ã€ŠPowerless Before Youã€‹


 Prologue

    Act 1: Through My Deaths, I¡¯ll Build a Better World!

    This is the story of a girl who died¡­ and then died again.

    ¡°Did I really come to this world¡­ just to die like this?¡±

    Her last thoughts played through her mind as she lay on the ground, her head and back floating on a puddle of her own blood, her hands attempting fruitlessly to cover up the gaping hole in her belly. The sky she looked upon slowly lost its color, its trademark light blue giving way to a cold and harrowing, yet somehow still comforting, black.

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    Her vision fading, her muscles unable to respond, every speck of her being had given up, ready to accept its destined fate.

    But before her breath fully vanished, before her soul could finally embrace death¡¯s merciful arms, her mind uselessly struggled for one long second.

    A memory played, seemingly for no reason but to mock her, to remind her of what a wasted opportunity this last life of hers had been.

    What that memory was, you may ask?

    Well, luckily for you, I know. I saw it. I heard it. Everything she felt, I felt.

    So now, let me tell you what that memory contained.

    Even better, let me tell you every one of her memories. The ones before that day. The ones from days after.

    Let me tell you the memories of the girl who naively thinks she can challenge the world.

 Chapter 1: A Life Reborn

    Within the depths of an alleyway¡¯s darkness, a girl lay on the floor. She wasn¡¯t asleep, but she also wasn¡¯t awake.

    She was in a trance. A gross feeling no mortal had experienced.

    Within the depths of a dark alleyway, a girl lay on the floor. She wasn¡¯t asleep, but she also wasn¡¯t awake.

    Words couldn¡¯t explain the state she was in, for words were made by mortals. And no mortal had experienced what she had.

    ¡°Where am I? Last thing I remember¡­¡± she whispered, struggling not to fall to the ground.

    Blinding light cut through the darkness she had found herself in. Walking into it, she was met with a sight that her imagination could¡¯ve never conjured.

    ¡°What¡­ the¡­ Fuck!¡±

    Before her eyes, a street could be seen, with a town square found on the other side of the road. But what struck out most was the appearance of the people she could see all around her. Their clothes were, to put it bluntly, antiquated. Most men that passed by her were dressed in tunics, while long gowns were the usual sight for women, not a single pair of jeans in sight. The entire street¡¯s buildings resembled medieval architecture, with most buildings made of basic stone and wood.

    Awestruck, she decided to walk towards the plaza, stepping on the road, fully intent on crossing it. Unfortunately for the freshly-awakened maiden, her hearing was struck by a loud sound, accompanied by the screaming voice of a man, with words that could be identified as some sort of profanity.

    Quickly turning her head to the right, she spotted a tall vehicle. If she had to use a single word to describe it, ¡°carriage¡± would be it. And yet, an important element one would associate with a carriage, a horse or some other kind of animal to push it, was sorely missing. Regardless, it rushed toward her, at sufficient speed to send her flying.

    Before she could even attempt to react to what her eyes were seeing, a loud scream assaulted her ears

    ¡°Watch out!¡±

    The owner of the voice, without a hint of hesitation, leaped forward and shoved the girl, preventing her untimely demise. Both their bodies slid across the ground as they screamed, ending up one on top of the other. The uppermost body belonged to the heroine who had just saved the innocent bystander¡¯s life, a young woman with golden locks and eyes, clad in a green tunic that left the left half of her torso exposed, who didn¡¯t waste a second to exclaim:

    ¡°It seems your life continues, due to the effort of none other than I, a carrier of the Light of Justice!¡± Now please,¡± she continued, stretching out her arm, ¡°allow me to hear your name.¡±

    At this point, everyone in the general area was staring at the two women, who were causing quite the ruckus.

    ¡°Ma¡­ Elena. No, actually, Maria. Maria Elena.¡± was the reply, her face red like a tomato. ¡°I prefer Elena.¡±

    ¡°Maria, huh?¡± was the blonde maiden¡¯s reply, disregarding Elena¡¯s preference. She proceeded to perform three consecutive backflips, before carrying on speaking. ¡°Not a name you often hear in these lands. But it matters not, for the Light of Justice does not concern itself over the frivolousness of names.¡±

    ¡°Why did you ask my name, then?¡± replied Elena, understandably confused, as she got up.

    Her facial expression swiftly shifted, from confident to dumbfounded.

    ¡°We-Well, it was for no reason other than to satisfy my personal curiosity. But as I said, the Light of Justice cares not for names and last names. Hence, why I didn¡¯t tell you that my name is Lucia. I simply prevented tragedy from occurring, for I am just fulfilling my duty as a noble bard!¡±

    ¡°So, Lucia the bard. Very well then.¡± Hearing Elena speak, Lucia realized her own words had betrayed her yet again, and let out a sigh. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna try to seduce me, are you? Because if so, you can skip the whole rolling part¡­¡± Elena stared down at the self-proclaimed bard¡¯s left thigh; oddly, her pants covered one thigh and left the other one exposed.

    ¡°You heathen! To think this fair maiden risked her life to save such a dog in the shape of a person!¡± She Karate-chopped Elena on the shoulder. ¡°Farewell, for my heroic abilities are required somewhere actually deserving of them!¡±

    Not wasting a second, Lucia started sprinting in the direction Elena was facing. She ran for about fifteen meters, before coming to an abrupt stop. She rotated her body by 180 degrees, and began running again, this time the complete opposite way.

    ¡°It seems I have misjudged where the light guides me to. Farewell¡­ again,¡± she hurriedly said as she passed Elena, her figure disappearing into the horizon.

    To say Elena was perplexed at the events that just transpired in front of her would be the understatement of a lifetime. But not as confused as she was at the environment that currently surrounded her. Why did everyone look like a medieval peasant on the twenty-first century? Why was she almost run over by a carriage, instead of a car? The, admittedly low, possibility of there being some sort of medieval faire she hadn¡¯t been aware of certainly existed, but that didn¡¯t explain why she awoke in the middle of an alley.

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    All of those questions weighed on her mind as she walked around the square, home to many peculiar sights. Flowers of many different colors were planted on the ground. Street vendors were found in vast quantities. Kids were playing and loving couples could be seen sitting on the ground, enjoying the warm evening. Most folks were gathered around a fountain, which could be found in the center, a statue of a woman serving as its decoration. Elena, who had been wandering aimlessly, decided to walk towards it. As she approached it, she found herself lost in thought.

    Placing that question on the back of her mind, she found herself right next to the fountain¡¯s water. She stared at its surface with a curious gaze. The cleanliness of the water caught her attention immediately. She was used to such fountains containing the dirtiest water possible outside of sewers. Yet not only was the water crystal clear, it even appeared to be safe for consumption, as all around her kids and adults alike were drinking directly from it.

    Realizing she was pretty thirsty herself, she thought to herself, Hmm, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to take a sip, would it? I am feeling really thirsty¡ª I mean, I am always thirsty, but in a different way than usual.

    With a smug smile, she patted herself on the back for what she considered a clever joke. She couldn¡¯t prevent her mind from flashing images of men and women she¡¯d previously felt thirst towards¡ªmost of them fictional, but that¡¯s besides the point.

    No piece of fiction however could prepare her for what would appear before her eyes upon attempting to lower her lips for a sip.

    ¡°¡°Is that¡­ me?¡± she stated, as she stared, intensely, at her own reflection.

    A reflection, a sight one is used to seeing as commonly as they see the sun, yet the face being displayed was that of a stranger to Elena. Her hair was brown, her eyes were piercing blue, and her skin was pale as snow.

    It was a feeling hard to describe. To glance at one¡¯s own reflection and see a face unlike one¡¯s own¡­ it was a situation few could claim to have experienced. Even fewer could claim to have the fortune of waking up and have their face be replaced by one of incredible beauty, with a cute tiny nose and without a hint of acne or any kind of red spot.

    At this point, she took notice of her waist, which was noticeably thinner than the day before.

    ¡°Oh my gosh, I¡¯m thin now!¡± she said excitedly, stroking her belly. All that fat that¡¯d weighed down on her, both figuratively and literally, had vanished without a trace. She¡¯d never been exactly a looker, so this sudden metamorphosis meant she got a supermodel body with none of the soul-draining dieting required.

    Her excitement would be spoiled by the realization that people all around her were staring, at the weirdo who appeared confused by their own reflection. Trying to hide her shame at her weird actions, she decided to step away from there and ignore the awkwardness.

    As she strolled away without a destination, her mind began to wander, far too many things happening for her to make sense of.

    How did this happen? Last thing I remember, I was standing on that bridge and¡­¡±

    Her brain hit the metaphorical pause button on that thought, her hands striking at her forehead as if to force herself into forgetting. How she¡¯d arrived at this situation was not a matter worth pondering. That was a memory she¡¯d rather keep foggy, for to think back to that day would just mean to poke at a wound.

    It¡¯s not like she had much to complain about, anyway. Her new body was a total improvement in her eyes. And the package it came in was no less appealing; she was wearing a classy long white dress, adorned with vertical stripes from top to bottom. The most eye-striking part was found right underneath her cleavage, where what appeared to be the black silhouettes of a crow and a cicada served as decoration.

    Besides, there was no time to waste sulking. She needed the headspace to make sense of what was going on in the present.

    She had acquired an entirely new body, one belonging to someone else. While she didn¡¯t believe in reincarnation, it was certainly a possibility that needed to be considered. If that was the case, who did she reincarnate as, and where? It was a mystery that called to be solved. Considering her surroundings, odds were she¡¯d traveled back in time.

    ¡°Where on Earth am I?¡± she thought out loud. Finishing saying that, she struck upon a Eureka moment. ¡°Wait, Earth¡­ am I even on Earth?¡±

    Upon careful consideration, she arrived upon a more likely hypothesis. One whose truth she had a simple way to figure out.

    She approached a man, sitting down alongside his wife and two daughters. She hunched down, poked his back, and asked, ¡°E-Excuse me, sir, where¡­ are we?¡±

    Right as she finished uttering those words, she realized the absurdity of what she¡¯d just asked. The man, unsurprisingly, only raised an eyebrow as a response, while his family exchanged confused glares.

    So, in an attempt to save face, she tried to clarify. ¡°I mean, like, what city is this, not like, this world, or something, you know?¡±

    As previously mentioned, she attempted to save face. The attempt had failed miserably. Seeing the man¡¯s blank stare, she let out a shy, awkward laugh.

    Thankfully for her, the uncomfortable silence was ended by him, who after a quick laugh of his own, stated, ¡°You¡¯re a very strange young lady, to find yourself asking about the very place you¡¯re standing on right now. But since you appear to need help, I¡¯ll answer anyway: this is Catella, the capital city of Luzterna, the Kingdom of Everlasting Light.¡±

    ¡°Thank you so much for your time, good sir! She followed her excitement with a respectful bow, unsure of what the customs of this place even were. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry for¡­ being all weird,¡± said Elena, while being weird.

    She turned around, her back facing the family, and began strolling away, with little, excited hops taking the place of steps. She heard the man say, ¡°No problem. Have a ni¡ª¡±

    The man cut off his speech, while his wife let out a screech. Elena was no longer paying them any attention, however, her mind turning somewhere else.

    Catella, Luzterna, those were places she¡¯d never heard of. She considered herself pretty bad at Geography and History, but there was no way even she was dumb enough to not remember a kingdom with that name.

    Thus, the mystery was solved.

    A place where everyone is stuck in the Middle Ages. Where Elena was an uncommon name. And with places not found in any map she knew.

    There was only one conclusion that could be reached.

    ¡ªShe had been transported to another world.

 Chapter 2: A Villainess in Another World

    ¡°How didn¡¯t I think of this sooner? I was transported to another world! Oh, what are the odds that I, of all people, got Isekai¡¯d.¡±

    A concept that to your average person may seem only uncanny, but that to one like Elena proved simultaneously exciting and familiar.

    ¡°I wonder, is this the world of an Otome game? Or maybe just a plain-old novel?¡± she pondered out loud, inspecting her surroundings in search of a clue.

    She compared the sights in front of her with those stored deep within her memory. Back in her world, Elena had read many a tale of maidens who found themselves whisked away from their regular, boring lives and thrown into exciting worlds of fantasy. Often, into stories they already knew, meaning they could use their knowledge of future events to their advantage.

    For better or for worse, it seemed she¡¯d found herself in such a scenario.

    ¡°I do hope this is like those older Isekai like Inuyasha, tho, where there¡¯s a way to return home. Mom will be worried sick if I don¡¯t return in¡ª¡± Elena halted her speech, clenching her jaw and aiming her gaze downwards.

    After a second of silent contemplation, she turned her frown upside down, raised her fist up to the sky, and shouted, ¡°Who cares about that shitty country anyway, I¡¯m in a fantasy land now! It¡¯s only a matter of time before some handsome prince will come sweep me off my feet.¡±

    For a moment, Elena locked any memory of her hometown away in a mental box. Right now, she wanted to give in to the excitement of the prospective romance and adventure that awaited her in the future.

    ¡°In fact, if average romance novel pacing is to be believed, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be meeting my romantic lead riiiiight¡­ NOW!¡±

    Elena turned around dramatically, and pointed forward. Her index finger was aimed at no person; instead, a dog barked at her before running away.

    ¡°Ok, so that didn¡¯t work.¡± Elena closed her eyes and walked a few steps forward. ¡°But maybe my love interest will be¡­ YOU.¡±

    Opening her eyes, her view only showed an old man selling knives, having one for each wrinkle on his face.

    With a defeated sigh, Elena crossed her arms and said, ¡°Ok fiiiine, I¡¯m being an idiot. I¡¯ve only been here for about half an hour, I guess I shouldn¡¯t expect to be handed out a romance immediately.¡±

    Of course, love usually began to bloom within one hour of reading or gaming, so perhaps it was expected for her expectations to be set as such. But in real-time, it would take far longer.

    ¡°Besides, odds are I¡¯m already engaged or something. That¡¯s usually what happens to the main characters in these kinds of stories. Although that¡¯s usually because¡­¡±

    Elena was left scratching her chin, eventually coming to a realization. In most of the tales she¡¯d read, there was a distinction drawn between heroine and protagonist. Generally, there¡¯d be a character who appeared to be the protagonist of the story, the pure, kindhearted heroine. The actual main character was the character who got transported from Earth, usually taking the role of¡­

    ¡°...the Villainess!¡±

    The idea ate away at her thinking like a termite chews wood. For whatever reason, she¡¯d always taken a liking to villains, so being put in the place of one could certainly prove entertaining, if nothing else.

    ¡°...¡±

    That said, she took a glance at her clothing once again. While her dress was certainly quaint, it was still quite plain in a way uncharacteristic for an aristocrat, as Villainesses usually were. Plus, she lacked any sort of jewelry or other forms of expensive items; no necklaces, no rings, nothing demonstrating an excess of wealth.

    ¡°I swear, I better not have been reborn as the world¡¯s poorest villainess¡­¡± She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. ¡°That does sound like a Light Novel title, though. ¡®I was Reborn as the World¡¯s Poorest Villainess! All Routes Lead to Bankruptcy.¡±

    She had a good laugh at the expense of Light Novel titles, but it would prove to be a laughter of short duration.

    From behind, her ears heard a coarse voice call out, ¡°There you are, I¡¯ve been lookin¡¯ for you.¡±

    Elena¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Could it be, my romance arrived at last?¡±

    It was be fair to say that either she was wrong, or she was gonna wish she was wrong. For once she turned around, neither a handsome prince nor a suave duke was the originator of the voice. Instead, in front of her stood a large man approximately in his 40s, wearing a shirt too small for his size, his belly button left exposed. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and whenever he opened his mouth, it was clear a few teeth were missing.

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    ¡°Oh, come on now. Is a handsome rogue too much to ask?¡± whined Elena, rolling her eyes.

    Focusing too much on the man¡¯s appearance would turn out to be an error, as it led her to overlook a saber he wielded on his right hand.

    Pointing the blade to Elena¡¯s neck, the man said with a threatening voice, ¡°You little rat, you thought you could hide?¡±

    Fearful, Elena¡¯s only reaction was to raise her arms and mutter, ¡°I-I¡¯m not who you¡¯re looking for. I just got here.¡± She looked all around her. As all this commotion was occurring within a public space, she assumed someone would come aid her.

    But nothing of the sort happened. Every man and woman either completely ignored what should be an unusual situation, or gave a curious glance before looking away, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

    ¡°You lyin¡¯ brat, I¡¯ll cut your arm right off if you take me for a fool again!¡± The burly man sheathed the sword and approached her with heavy steps. Using his left arm, he gripped Elena¡¯s left shoulder and pulled her down, with enough strength to cause the petite girl to drop face-first to the ground.

    Immediately, she felt some kind of metal touching her hands, ¡°What are you doing?¡± she screamed out. A clicking sound made her realize what it was. The man had put her in handcuffs.

    The brute pulled her body and told her, ¡°There we go, now you better behave, you little shit.¡±

    Her eyes drenched in despair, she made one last desperate glance to see if someone, anyone, would notice her distress. Once more, adults played dumb, but she now took notice of a small boy of red hair, who briefly stopped his walk and looked back at her with a curious gaze, before getting dragged by his hand by his mother.

    Her attention then shifted to a group of three other children, who in unison all raised their arms in excitement, cheering the giant man on as if he was a hero.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get goin¡¯.¡±

    With a small push from her back, Elena was left with no choice but to walk, to follow her captor¡¯s instructions.

    Where she was being taken, she did not know. But right now all she could do was think. Think of an escape plan, or if nothing came to mind, at least think frivolous thoughts to distract herself from her dreadful potential fate.

    Nobody seemed to care about me¡­ maybe I really am a Villainess.

    So far, she hadn¡¯t really thought through what being reborn as a Villainess could entail. Most stories she¡¯d read involved being reincarnated into women of high status, ones who could be said to be the aristocratic version of high school bullies. Generally, they lived lives of wealth and glamour, to serve as foil to the kind-hearted heroine, usually a commoner.

    Yet there she was, in the middle of a dirty city street, surrounded as she walked by folks with rags for clothes and the occasional rat that strolled by.

    Just my luck, she pondered. Of course luck would have it so that she, of all people, had to be reborn into such a shitty situation.

    Maybe this was her punishment for her behavior on Earth. Maybe the role of villainess truly did suit her.

    After a long stretch of walking mindlessly, they arrived at the parking spot of a vehicle. To describe it, a truck would perhaps be the most accurate word, featuring ten wheels and a cargo area at the back. At the same time, one could mistake it for a carriage; the wheels were tall and the driving area was lovingly detailed, with glassless windows to the sides of the driving seat.

    ¡°Now Get in, you filthy Marked!¡±

    That sudden order knocking her out of her trance, Elena pointed at her chest and asked, ¡°Are you talking to me?¡±

    ¡°I told you not to play dum¡¯ with me.¡± The thug raised his saber with his right hand, ¡°Unless you wan¡¯ a taste of me bla¡ª!¡±

    His attempt at intimidation would be interrupted, as some kind of orange projectile flew right past him, hitting a wall and startling him.

    ¡°Who the hell was that? Show yoursel¡¯, you coward!¡± yelled the giant, pointing his sword forward, attempting to bait whoever fired that into a fight.

    ¡°Coward?¡± asked a deep, masculine voice, remaining hidden, ¡°You, who captures innocents in an attempt of making a buck call me a coward?

    ¡°I¡¯ll show you a thing or¡ª¡± Before he could finish, a gust of wind blew, and before it could even subside, the once seemingly unmovable giant was knocked down to the floor like a domino, lying there while grabbing his leg in pain.

    But the worst news for him was found a few centimeters from her neck; a rapier was pointing at it, threatening to slice it were he to make a wrong move.

    And holding it was a young man of brown hair, light-brown skin, and lean build, who mockingly said, ¡°Here, I showed myself, you happy?¡±

    ¡°Get Him!¡± A swarm of ruffians arrived running at the scene, totaling five total, their swords raised over their heads.

    Catching them with his eye, he rolled his eyes. ¡°More company. Neat.¡± Gripping his blade¡¯s hilt with both hands, he replaced some sort of green crystal inside the sword with a red one he took out of his pocket, and then pointed the weapon upwards and closed his eyes. ¡°Flame of the Sword God, Bless my Blade!¡±

    Chanting those words, orange slowly began painting the end of his blade, a curtain of flames beginning to surround it.

    ¡°That brat¡­ he¡¯s a Sword Artist!¡± one of the men exclaimed, in dismay. From the way the sword was shaking, it was evident a great power was contained within the weapon, yet the young man¡¯s hands remained firm.

    ¡°Very observant.¡± Opening his eyes, the confident brown-haired rogue swung at last his rapier; the blade traveled in an arc, cutting the air in front of him and releasing its surrounding flames.

    With only that single movement of his arm, the surrounding street had become ablaze, tainting even the sky with an orange hue.

    Wasting no time, the man turned around and glanced at Elena with a grin. ¡°Now, if you all excuse me¡ª¡± he rushed toward Elena and began bridal carrying her, before turning his attention back to his enemies, cowering before the spreading hellfire¡ª ¡°I have places to go. Gotta follow my rainbow, you know, usual rogue stuff. Later!¡°

    Not without taking the time to pull his tongue out, he sprinted out of the scene, Elena in tow.

 Chapter 3: Love and Death

    Carrying a maiden in his arms, the young man ran faster than anyone Elena¡¯d ever seen in her world, slipping by people fast enough to be invisible.

    Elena gripped his shoulder tightly, her whole body solid as a boulder, as any bad movement could result in her flying off. She paid little attention to her surroundings, instead focusing on the man¡¯s chest, his white shirt leaving enough space open to observers.

    Eventually, he stopped by a dark alleyway, hidden away from the eyes of any onlooker.

    ¡°This should be good. I¡¯m sure we must¡¯ve lost them by now.¡±

    He let Elena down, the two of them standing face-to-face. A closer look at the man¡¯s features let her admire his bright golden eyes and light-brown skin. His nose, meanwhile, was long and in a bit of a funny shape, serving as contrast to his roguish look.

    The time she spent inspecting his looks was time spent breathing an awkward air, as the two remained in silence, both expecting the other to say something. The man immediately blocked his nose with his hand, noticing Elena¡¯s focused stare and feeling perhaps a bit insecure, his cheeks growing red.

    In fairness, so would anyone, were they to be stared at with the intensity of a camera from a documentary.

    ¡°Oh, hmm, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to stare like that. Well, I mean, I did mean to, because you¡¯re handsome, but not like, so intensely, you know?¡°

    The man scratched his head, in disbelief at her ability to dig her own hole.

    ¡°Nononono, I didn¡¯t mean to say you¡¯re handsome, I meant that¡ª¡± she bit her tongue¡ª ¡± But that also doesn¡¯t mean that you¡¯re not handsome, because you are. But I was looking at you weirdly, so what I meant was¡­ you know.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I know what you¡¯re talking about, but let¡¯s end this discussion right here.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    The hole had morphed into a full-blown ravine, so Elena was eager to accept any lifeline thrown her way.

    The man began looking into the street, before saying, ¡°Anyway, before one of these assholes comes for us¡±¡ªhe turned around to face Elena¡ª ¡±why don¡¯t you give me your name?¡±

    ¡°My name? So, you don¡¯t know me?¡±

    Both their faces turned blank at the absurdity of the question. Inside Elena¡¯s Earthling head, it was a perfectly sound assumption to make that whoever her savior was probably had some prior history with the person she was now replacing. Maybe a previous lover or a long-lost sibling¡­ the former being the preferred possibility. Otherwise, why risk your life for some random girl, especially when it seemed social etiquette was to just sit by and watch her be dragged to a dismal fate?

    ¡°Uhm, no? Do you remember having met before?¡±

    Once again down in the ravine, Elena shook her head while saying, ¡°Nonono, I just thought it was strange to go out of your way to save someone you don¡¯t know, so I thought maybe YOU knew me from somewhere.¡±

    A snort was his reaction, accompanied by a sudden eye closure. ¡°Nah, saving damsels in distress is more or less my job. That¡¯s all. Nothing personal.¡± He opened his right eye, hoping mayhaps to get a peek of Elena¡¯s reaction, then closed it again upon not seeing a face he wanted. He repeated this process a few times.

    Unfortunately for him, Elena remained stone-faced, thoughts pecking her brain. His was a response that brewed further questions. He was dressed like a scoundrel, with leather boots and a plain white shirt covered by a brown coat. Were he to wear an eye patch, it¡¯d be a fair assumption to say he was a pirate. Yet apparently, he was in the business of saving ladies from being sold, rather than doing the selling himself.

    Perhaps he was a thief with a heart of gold? That was her immediate assumption upon laying eyes upon him, but only as a result of his mesmerizing appearance. It wouldn¡¯t be fair to assume someone¡¯s virtue just based on their looks.

    Then again, if she¡¯d truly been transported to the world of a romance novel or game, beauty would in fact be the perfect way to measure a person¡¯s virtue. If nothing else, he seemed to be kinder than those dreadful thugs from before.

    Maybe his name would provide a hint? Usually, bad people in these kinds of stories would have evil-sounding names. Of course, her wanting to know his name undoubtedly factored into her thought process, but it did originate from a place of reason. She needed to learn what sort of character this man could be slotted into.

    She inhaled air deeply, selecting her upcoming words with great care. If the man before her was the hero of her story, learning his name was surely a moment of great importance. This was a scene she needed to nail.

    ¡°Of course, I''ll give out my name. But only so long as I first hear yours¡±¡ªshe let out a fake cough, followed by pounding her chest and then grabbing the hem of her dress¡ª ¡°So, would my ears be so blessed as to be witness to its lovely¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Miles.¡±

    ¡°¡ªsound¡­ huh?¡± Her pretentious question was answered in as cutting a fashion as possible. It was evident a tinge of tiredness colored his voice. Likely, stemming from tiredness at her.

    ¡°Miles. That¡¯s my name.¡± A silence filled with awkward stares filled the air separating them. Miles began tapping his right foot, before saying, ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re gonna tell me yours?¡±

    ¡°My name? You wanna know my name?¡± Elena pointed at her chin.

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s only fair. I told you mine.¡±

    It was her hope he was actually curious about what her name was, but politeness was all she could read from his tone. Nevertheless, after the failure her attempt to get his name turned out to be, she wasn¡¯t gonna let this chance slip by.

    ¡°Well,¡± she stretched her left arm upward, the palm of her hand high-fiving the heavens above, ¡°if a face like yours asks for my name¡±¡ªshe winked at him¡ª ¡±then I have no choice but to answer¡­¡±

    Frustratingly for her, Miles only reacted with confusion, furrowing his brow with his arms crossed. All these antics were for the aim of building anticipation to the grand reveal, so seeing his face gave her no pleasure.

    As a result, she cut her speech short, originally planning to flirt, or at least attempt to, for a bit longer. Instead, she shut her eyes and only added, ¡±...and that answer is my name, which is¡ª¡±

    ¡°WATCH OUT!¡± Miles¡¯ scream assaulted her ears before she could finish, his body plunging forward, shoving her down to the floor. He wasted less than a second prone on top of her, for he quickly got up and unsheathed his sword. ¡°Are you ok?¡± he asked, without averting his sight from whatever danger had just attacked them.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I am¡­ except for¡­¡± She was about to say she wished to remain sandwiched between the ground and his body for just a little longer, but swallowed that thought upon looking forward, realizing it was no time for being horny. ¡°Oh no.¡±

    The same ruffians from before had somehow found them. Or maybe they were different ones, she could not remember. But it mattered not. What mattered was that Miles knew they were trouble, and were preventing them from escaping the way they came.

    Worst of all, they each carried some sort of weapon in their hands. If it could be described succinctly, it could be said to resemble the barrel of a cannon stemming from medieval times, but with the grip and trigger of a modern firearm underneath it.

    ¡°We have you now, rat!¡± one of them shouted.

    Biting his lip, Miles slowly turned his head around, pointed towards the depths of the backstreet, and with a brief glance at Elena, yelled, ¡°Run!¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Elena was frozen by a mixture of fear and stubbornness, not wanting to leave him alone despite her lack of combat value. It was then, that a faint but deafening sound reached her ears, the sound of a flame about to wrap the air.

    That sound would be polluted by the scream of one of the thugs. ¡°Eat this!¡±

    The sound was now accompanied by a sight, that of a burning red fireball, floating right in front of the weapon the criminal held. Within the blink of an eye, the fireball began accelerating toward Miles. It frightened him not; he stood his ground firmly and swung his sword. The blade directly parried the projectile, diverting its path. The fireball instead collided with the ground beneath them, a spiral of flame spiraling in all directions.

    ¡°Run, I said!¡± Miles shouted again. The fire had spread chaos across the battlefield, and he knew that protecting her any further would prove difficult

    This time, Elena¡¯s instincts followed the order. She turned around and launched into a mad dash, careful not to trip on the hem of her own dress, the shrieks of men increasingly decreasing in volume with every step.

    Her pace would come to a screeching halt at a moment¡¯s notice, for suddenly she dropped to the ground.

    This stupid dress she thought.

    In truth, something had struck her back, the force of the impact shoving her body downward. But in the heat of the moment, she paid it no mind; in fact, she lacked the ability to analyze the scenario and realize what had truly happened. Instead, she simply attempted to stand up as efficiently as possible.

    However, right before moving a foot forward to continue her escape, her vision suddenly blurred intensely, the world before her shaking before her eyes. Her knees crumbled suddenly, catching herself with her left arm to not collapse completely.

    ¡°Wow, what¡¯s going on?¡± She managed to lift her body up yet again, but standing completely still was all she could manage, her body refusing to move any further. The adrenaline had done a good job so far distracting her from a burning sensation coming from her belly, which was not calling for her attention.

    Ignoring it no more, she placed her right hand on the spot, without giving it much thought.

    ¡°ARRRGH¡± she screamed, suddenly met with unimaginable pain, as she¡¯d touched something she shouldn¡¯t have. She quickly put her hand away, which now seemed to be bathed in some kind of sticky liquid.

    ¡°What the¡­?¡±

    Elena stared disturbed at her own fingers, now clad in the crimson color of blood.

    Her whole body was shaking and her breath was rapid, her mind trying to come to grips with what was happening. Filled with hesitation, she slowly lowered her gaze.

    ¡°No¡­ nonononononono this isn¡¯t happening.¡±

    A big hole had formed in the middle of Elena¡¯s belly, increasing in size with each second, as the skin that once formed her torso had begun melting away, her intestines one wrong move away from flying off. The pavement she was standing on had become flooded, her leaking blood painting the ground red.

    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± Elena¡¯s speech started to falter, her body using most of its energy just trying to stay alive. ¡°...I must¡­ make it back¡­ to him.¡±

    Elena began moving her right leg, a futile attempt to walk. It wasn¡¯t even the right direction, or maybe it was. It didn¡¯t matter. The world once again blurred, up had become the same as down, left the same as up. All sense of direction vanished, there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to go, for death surrounded her on all sides.

    Eventually, the farce broke down. She lost her balance, dropping face-first into the ground, soaked with blood.

    Her organs scattered across the ground, floating like leaves in a red pond. Elena writhed in pain as the countdown began for her life to end.

    She made one last, desperate, defiant attempt to get up, planting her hands on the floor to lift herself up. While she managed to achieve some height, gravity would render her efforts a waste, crashing down into the pond of blood once again, albeit this time facing the sky.

    She wasn¡¯t scared. Her body trembled, yet she was not scared. And if she was scared, then it was not the main emotion flowing through what remained of her.

    That would be rage. Pure, unbridled rage

    ¡°Did I really come to this world¡­ just to die like this?¡±

    Her brain hadn¡¯t shut down quite yet, but she wished it had, for its only remaining use was to torture her. As the sky shifted from blue to black, all she could do was to chastise herself, to rage at her feeble self for what a waste her life had been.

    Through some divine intervention, she¡¯d gotten a second chance at life, and she had wasted it by dying like a dog.

    Her opportunity for adventure, gone.

    Her opportunity for romance, gone.

    The golden eyes of the handsome man who saved her, who reached out his hand when no one else would, flashed through her eyes as if to mock her, to remind her of what she almost had. Of what death was about to rob her of.

    And during that final breath, his eyes vanished, and in their place, eyes as green as emerald shone in all their glory.

    A face the girl couldn¡¯t remember, but nonetheless felt familiar. That was the last vision she¡¯d see.

    A figure that spoke in a voice she¡¯d claim she¡¯d never heard, but that nonetheless her soul knew intimately.

    The dark figure began whispering to her, long after her ears had stopped hearing.

    She couldn¡¯t fully make out the message; she wasn¡¯t yet desperate enough be able to. But she heard it all the same. Those would be the last words her current self would hear.

    ¡°Em¡­arms¡­¡± I said.

    It was my soothing voice what¡¯d serve as the lullaby for her sleep, her consciousness melting away, becoming one with the darkness of despair.

    <hr>

    Waves struck her ears, sea salt pierced her nostrils, and the ground appeared to shake underneath her.

    What this coordinated attack on her senses was, she had no idea. Her mind had been stripped of the ability to comprehend.

    This was because she had to be dead. Dying was all her mind could remember.

    The despair felt when the realization struck. The infernal pain of having your guts spill out.

    It was an unforgettable feeling. One that¡¯s many times imagined, but only once experienced.

    To have felt that unbearable pain meant desire for eternal sleep was the only possible method of coping. And she was blessed to at last be at peace.

    No matter if she could smell or hear, the only conclusion she could draw, the only conclusion she wanted to draw, was that she was dead. After yet another life of failure, all she could hope was for a graceful afterlife.

    And at that moment, the words she thought were her greeting on the heavenly gates reached her ears.

    ¡°Hey, you! You¡¯re finally awake, huh?¡±

    Seeing nothing but darkness, Elena grinned. Suddenly, her desire to see the world before her spiked up, for only her eyes could confirm the insanity of what her hearing had told her.

    ¡°Todd Howard¡­ you¡¯ve done it again, you son of a bitch!¡± she whispered, before at last slowly opening her eyes.

    It could only be this way. Too many hours spent playing that blasted game. It was only to be expected, then, for there to be no escape. Not even in death could she escape. Perhaps she was in hell instead? Were that the case, odds were she¡¯d open her eyes and come across a silhouette of a red spaceman, or something.

    Why was she even having such strange thoughts? Then again, maybe they aren¡¯t so weird. She had already reincarnated into the world of some random Otome game or manhwa she couldn¡¯t even remember the name of, so why couldn¡¯t she now show up in Skyrim? Would be less weird, if anything.

    Once her vision returned, the image that unfolded in front of her was nothing expected. With a clear, blue sky serving as the background, a gorgeous blonde woman stared down at her.

    ¡°Hey look! She opened her eyes. About fucking time,¡± said the woman, calling out to someone outside Elena¡¯s view. Her voice had been the same that first said she was awake. Any similarities with any video game she¡¯d played were a mere coincidence.

    It was at that moment that Elena¡¯s consciousness fully returned to her body. It¡¯s not often the realization of being alive hits you, but it had just hit Elena, feeling a wooden surface against the skin of her back.

    ¡°Oh, thank the goddess,¡± cried out a masculine voice, one Elena knew well. Tilting her head in its direction, she saw the originator of said voice. It was Miles.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± Elena wasted no time asking. She¡¯d get her reply not with words, but in the form of an earthquake of sorts, the ground seemingly vibrating. That combined with the sea salt in the air, as well as the sound of waves made her guess she was in some kind of large ship.

    ¡°You¡¯re in our ship. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re safe now,¡± answered Miles, confirming her suspicions.

    Standing up, Elena continued, ¡°Well, good to know we¡¯re nowhere near those morons from the alleyway.¡±

    The moment that last word left her mouth, a scarring image swept through her mind. Those dreadful moments filled with despair, visited by death within the confines of a dark alley, fire tearing apart her flesh.

    A painful, burning pain¡­ one that was currently absent from her torso. Her hand slowly caressed the area beneath her chest, her mind bracing for the worst. Instead, it felt completely normal.

    ¡°Wow, your medicine must be superb,¡± said Elena, with a wide smile, ¡°that hole in my body is completely gone. Did you use some kind of spell, or something?¡±

    ¡°Uhm, we have no healing magic in our squad,¡± replied the blonde woman, ¡°but you weren¡¯t particularly injured, anyway.¡±

    Understandably, Elena was bewildered. ¡°Huh?¡± She clearly remembered being brought within an inch of her life. Had she dreamed it?

    ¡°Yeah, after I took care of those goons, I ran by your side. One of them had taken a shot at you, but when I inspected your body, you were completely unharmed, albeit you had passed out. I guess the shock was a bit too much.¡±

    Elena scratched her chin. She didn¡¯t want to believe the two people in front of her were liars, but neither could she dismiss the very real pain she¡¯d experienced.

    But from these two contrasting viewpoints, she¡¯d eventually have to pick one to place her faith in.

    For somehow, she¡¯d awoken alive, despite having encountered what could only be referred to by the name of ¡°death¡±.

 Chapter 4: All Aboard

    ¡°So, Elena¡¯s your name, then?¡±

    Brown wood served as the building blocks of the ship Elena now found herself sailing in, with only a metallic double door, presumably leading to the living quarters, being an exception. A clean view of the sky was blocked by the gigantic yellow sails, the wind acting as the force pushing the vessel toward its destination. A watchtower was also visible, a few meters away from being tall enough to pierce the sky.

    In summary, this ship could be said to be¡­ well, a ship. It had all the elements one¡¯s mind associates with a sailboat from the Golden Age of Piracy from Earth.

    A quick look without even moving her feet was enough for Elena, at least for the time being. Right now, there were questions she needed answered.

    ¡°Yep, that¡¯s what most people call me,¡± Elena said. ¡°Anyway, now it¡¯s my turn for questions. Why did you bring me heeeeeere?¡± Elena¡¯s feet danced, the ship¡¯s tilt nearly breaking her balance. ¡°And where are we goooooing?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s someone who wants an audience with ya¡¯, and guess what, it¡¯s none other than the Queen herself!¡± It¡¯d been the blonde woman who¡¯d answered, crossing her arms and resting her body on a nearby mast.

    ¡°The queen? The queen of¡­¡± Elena attempted to recall the name the old man had said earlier. Once arriving at the answer, her face lit up with pride, like a child remembering an answer to a test. ¡°...Luzterna, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    Both the woman and Miles reacted with befuddlement. ¡°Huh? Were you hit in the head as a child or just badly educated?¡± she said, tilting her head while playing with her hair, ¡°Luzterna doesn¡¯t have a queen.¡±

    Realizing her screw-up, Elena quickly brewed an apology. ¡°Erm, forgive me¡­¡±

    Mommy was the next word that came to mind to complete that sentence. She didn¡¯t know the woman¡¯s name, so her mind defaulted to horny when under pressure from a pretty face, especially one intensely glaring at her with deep, brown eyes.

    The sudden staredown gave Elena a chance to take note of the woman¡¯s attire. The lady staring at her with furious red eyes was clad in tall boots and a red jacket, while her head was adorned with a black hat. It was a fair assumption to make she was a pirate just like Miles, although her pristine skin and well-washed golden hair may serve as evidence to the contrary. Then again, Miles also looked squeaky clean, so perhaps people here somehow looked gorgeous despite sailing the open sea and getting into fights to the death. That kind of thing was common in fiction.

    ¡°Leila, come on now, cut her a break.¡± Miles had broken into the conversation, defending Elena from the perils of looking like an idiot.  ¡°She¡¯s not even from there.¡±

    ¡°Yes, exactly!¡± Elena happily accepted the lifeline thrown her way.  He¡¯d even said the woman¡¯s name out loud, saving her the trouble of asking that awkward question herself. Double success.

    ¡°I¡¯m filing that under badly educated, then.¡± She grinned for a second, then tilted her head again, seemingly a habit. ¡°Wait, but then what in the world were you doing there?¡±

    Elena morphed into a shower of sweat. ¡°Well, uhmm, you see, I¡­¡± Some sort of feasible explanation surely existed, though knowing her, she¡¯d likely end with her foot in her mouth.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to answer,¡± Miles interrupted. ¡°I understand it¡¯s difficult to talk about such a traumatic situation.¡± He spoke confidently, seemingly with a better grasp on Elena¡¯s situation than Elena herself.

    ¡°But don¡¯t you think it¡¯s weird that her name¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh hey, the little miss woke up at last!¡± An orotund voice boomed, loud enough to deafen those standing on land. It came from a burly man, whose physique would put bodybuilders back on Earth to shame. He wore a white shirt, one too small for his size, and facial hair covered his chin. ¡°My name is Bronson. I¡¯m this little dude¡¯s best friend¡±¡ªhe pulled Miles into a hug, to his displeasure¡ª ¡°Nice to meet you. Elena was your name, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Despite his appearance being that of a brute, he spoke no differently from Miles.

    ¡°That is correct. Maria Elena, to be precise, but you can just call me Elena.¡±

    ¡°I like the sound of that!¡± Bronson said, flexing his bicep while showing his perfectly-white teeth. Who would¡¯ve thought that these pirates also had good dental care?

    ¡°Wait a minute, we have a man missing.¡± Miles aimed his head upward, then fired his voice toward the heavens. ¡°Galen, get down here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right there.¡± The response came from the watchtower, with a disinterested tone of voice.

    Miles shook his head, then exchanged glances with Bronson. The latter winked, then called for Galen himself. ¡°Galen, get your ass down here. Like you did last night!¡±

    ¡°Oh fuck you!¡± Galen exclaimed, then began sliding down the ladder. Miles and Bronson, meanwhile, gave each other a fist bump.

    ¡°If I recall correctly, I have told you against saying stuff like that out loud carelessly,¡± Galen wasted no time and began reprimanding Bronson, despite him being a short, scrawny man whose head barely reached Bronson¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Especially considering we have a new person aboard, the status of our relationship is better kept under a tight lip.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re not doing a very good job yourself, then,¡± Leila cut in, then pointed to Elena with her thumb. ¡°She heard everything, dumbass.¡±

    Galen gulped. Begrudgingly, he turned around to meet the new member of the crew. ¡°Uhmm, hello, miss. I know you may be having a misunderstanding right now, but I assure you¡­¡±

    Galen halted his careful speech mid-sentence. He was drenched in worry, yet he was not being met with the reaction he had in mind. Elena¡¯s knees were shaking, which then gave way to small hops in place. Her face had a goofy grin, and her nose exhaled so quickly it seemed steam would begin pouring out any second.

    ¡°Miss, are you alri¡ª¡±

    Before he could even finish, Elena had leaped forward in the blink of an eye, gripping his hands and raising his arms upward. ¡°You two are a thing?¡±

    Galen began stuttering incoherently, so after a small chortle it¡¯d be Bronson who¡¯d respond. ¡°Yes, for a couple of years now. That¡¯s the reason he joined us, in fact.¡±

    Elena released Galen¡¯s arms and began rubbing the palms of her hands together, sporting a diabolical grin. Her breath had accelerated even further, near the point of hyperventilating.

    A BL story out in the seas. Oh, be still, my fainting heart.

    Whether it was Earth or this new, fantasy world, nothing could slow down the brain of a fujoshi given steam. The little time she¡¯d spent interacting with the duo proved enough for dozens of scenarios to run through her head. The height difference alone was tantalizing¡ª surely, on cold nights, Bronson serves as the big spoon, and¡­

    On second thought, better save the thought for later. For when she can be horny without inviting weird looks. The kind of look the two of them were giving her at that very moment, for example.

    Besides, even the not-rotten side of her brain had reasons to find this development a positive one. She wasn¡¯t sure what was this world¡¯s view on gay people, and considering Galen¡¯s behavior earlier, odds were they weren¡¯t very positive. In any case, considering Miles and Bronson were friends, it seems among the members of this pirate crew at least homophobia was not a thing. A relief, to be sure, especially since she herself wasn¡¯t exactly the straightest stick around.

    ¡°But,¡± Galen suddenly yelled, before lowering his voice back to normal, ¡°whatever image you have of me is sorely mistaken. I am in fact the son of a family of merchants, and I¡¯ll let you know¡­¡±

    ¡°Go on, bottom,¡± Bronson murmured to himself.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Galen turned his head sharply toward Bronson. ¡°I don¡¯t recall ever saying I¡¯m that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t recall you saying you¡¯re not¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh you little¡­¡±

    Galen began flailing his fist at Bronson, with little effectiveness. Elena meanwhile simply observed the sexual tension silently and from a distance, frothing at the mouth.

    Much as she wished to enjoy it for longer, there was something that piqued her attention. She glanced around, then spotted them. Miles and Leila had apparently snuck out of the group, and were having a private conversation. Well, calling it a conversation might be inaccurate: Miles had his arms crossed, looking away, while Leila talked to his profile. From her body language, it appeared she was scolding him, her glare so stern it could bring children to tears.

    ¡°Did Miles do something wrong? I thought he was the captain here,¡± Elena asked.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°He is,¡± Bronson answered, ¡°but she¡¯s the oldest here, so she acts as our mom sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I see.¡± She acted as Team Mom, then. Maybe calling her mommy earlier wouldn¡¯t have been so out of place. Then again, it would¡¯ve been cringe, so maybe not.

    So, in summary, through luck and¡­ more luck, she managed to land herself a spot among a crew of pirates, consisting of a handsome rogue, a tall and beefy hunk, an older yet still sexy pirate lady, and a pathetic twink.

    Maybe her stay in this new world wouldn¡¯t be so bad.

    <hr>

    ¡°Here¡¯s your room. Or rather, our room. We¡¯re sharing. Lucky me.¡±

    Faster than Leila could finish her words, Elena had lunged toward her new bed, her back crash-landing on the mattress like a meteorite strikes a planet. Her body wasted no second making itself at home. ¡°Ohhhh, it¡¯s so comfy.¡±

    ¡°You better not fall asleep. Not with how much you slept earlier today. I still gotta show you the bathroom.¡±

    ¡°Oh that¡¯d be quite nice. I gotta get rid of the stench of the alleyway. Could you come back in five minutes? I don¡¯t think Mr Bed wants to say goodbye quite yet.¡±

    ¡°Get up. Now,¡± Leila coldly ordered, then struck the wall with her arm.

    ¡°Yes, mommy!¡± Elena uttered brainlessly, as she got up.

    ¡°Mommy? Ugh, what¡¯s wrong with you young people? Anyway, follow me.¡±

    The two walked down a hallway. The brown walls were devoid of much decoration, only the occasional candle to light up the way. Eventually, they reached the end, where two doors were found.

    ¡°Here we go, here¡¯s the bathroom. Don¡¯t go making too much noise. The captain sleeps in the other room.¡±

    ¡°Got it. Now excuse me, I think I¡¯ll take a shower.¡±

    ¡°Roger. Everything you need for that should be in there. See ya.¡±

    Elena waved her hand, then turned to open the door. As her fingers came in contact with the doorknob, she came upon a silly yet harrowing realization.

    I¡¯ll take a shower, she¡¯d said so casually. Only just now had she considered the possibility of this bathroom being nothing like she was used to. This was, after all, a medieval world. Medieval people weren¡¯t exactly known for their amazing hygiene. A modern shower would be unthinkable.

    ¡°I don¡¯t actually smell that bad, do I?¡± she thought out loud. She smelled her armpit sneakily, before coming to her senses. ¡°I¡¯m just second-guessing myself for no reason. If I¡¯m gonna live here, I need to get used to stuff like this.¡± She let a long breath fill her nostrils, then opened the door.

    ¡°Oh, thank heavens.¡± To her pleasure and surprise, the bathroom looked ripped out of the modern world. A modern-looking toilet with toilet paper, a modern sink in front of it, and last but certainly not least, a modern shower faucet. It even had knobs to regulate the water¡¯s heat!

    Her worries put to rest, she quickly removed her dress. She didn¡¯t really have any other clothes, and at least to the eye they seemed clean enough for reuse, so it¡¯d probably be fine to put them on again. She couldn¡¯t find a place to hang them, so she just left it on top of the toilet cover, then did the same with her underwear, which was a provocative pink. She then made her way into the shower, turning the left knob.

    ¡°Ahhh, I¡¯m in heaven!¡± The burning heat of the water assaulted Elena¡¯s body mercilessly, flowing down with the strength of a river. She didn¡¯t mind, however, for she was used to burning hot showers¡ª in fact, she found them relaxing, the steam erasing the problems hounding her mind.

    Of course, this was not an excuse for dillydallying. Last thing she wanted was for the hot water to vanish and to be turned into an ice cube. She didn¡¯t know how water was heated, but she¡¯d rather not find out, so she began washing her body with the nearby soap. Waste too much time, and she¡¯d land in hot water¡ªor cold, in this case.

    Despite her concern, a shower is a shower, and humans can¡¯t avoid their natural instincts. Her mind began wandering off, although for once her shower thoughts were not totally useless. The warmth of the water released her of stress, and gave her a space to truly reflect on all the craziness that¡¯d transpired today.

    ¡°Not only did I get Isekai¡¯d, but managed to end up surrounded by a bunch of lookers, ¡± she spoke to the showerhead, as if it was her psychologist. ¡°But this world is a bit strange. On the one hand, it¡¯s the most generic Isekai world I¡¯ve ever seen...¡±

    But at the same time, it¡¯s got a bunch of modern conveniences, such as the very bathroom she found herself in. People¡¯s names also appeared devoid of any kind of pattern; first she got told her name was weird, then the next moment she was met with others just as Spanish-sounding as hers. Yet, there were also English names such as Miles, so who knew?

    ¡°...¡±

    As she drove her hand to her belly in order to wash it, she also brought one more oddity to mind.

    That rumble in the alley, led to her getting shot. It all happened so quickly it was hard to adequately picture the scene in the moment, yet it all made sense when thought about retroactively.

    All except for the fact she was alive.

    She felt the water touch her skin, the sound of it colliding with the floor, its blue hue rushing downward. This all told her this was no dream. She was undeniably alive.

    And yet, that hard fact contradicted the vicious feelings she¡¯d felt before. Of her body parting with her soul. Of writhing in agony. Of her life flashing through her eyes, just to remind her of what she was about to lose.

    Death. It was a mixture of many colors of pain that all came together to form a picture that carried the name of death.

    She could say for certain she¡¯d experienced death. Her conclusion had to be correct, for she, and only she, had prior experience with the phenomenon referred to as death. Hence, she could tell it apart from something more mundane like passing out.

    ¡°Perhaps¡­ I¡¯m somehow¡­ immune to death?¡±

    It would explain why Miles found no wound on her body, and why she felt so healthy despite taking such a blow. It was usual in Isekai stories for the otherworlder to carry some sort of ability or superpower. Perhaps she¡¯d been blessed like that? In fact, she remembers hearing about an Anime where a dude gets an ability that lets him cheat death.

    She sighed. ¡°Now I wish I¡¯d checked it out when that guy recommended it to me. I¡¯m sure I could learn a thing or two.¡± She couldn¡¯t come up with ways to abuse this ability, although some opportunity to do so would undoubtedly show up sooner or later.

    Regardless, if her suspicions were to prove true, this supposed skill would aid her tremendously. Not that she planned to die again anytime soon, but in a fantasy world inhabited by god-knows-what, something like this was always a boon.

    Anyway, I better finish cleaning myself

    She continued spreading soap all across herself. Despite being covered in foam, it was impossible to not take notice of her body. It was strange to feel envious of the body one inhabits, yet that was the situation she found herself in. Were she to witness this naked body in front of her, she¡¯d no doubt react with lust at the presence of such a beautiful woman, yet this body now belonged to her.

    Back on Earth, she and beauty went together like salt and water. Yet there she was, wearing skin the likes of which she could only dream of. Guilt ran through her, realizing she¡¯d stolen this peerless body from its original owner. Worse of all, there was a high chance she¡¯d straight up killed her. Usually in these types of stories, the reincarnated female lead would receive at least part of the original character¡¯s memories. But no matter how hard she strained her brain, she couldn¡¯t remember anything that wasn¡¯t proper of her.

    ¡°All this thinking is making me anxious. I better get off the water.¡±

    She did just that, turning the knobs to stop the water from running pointlessly, then grabbed a nearby towel.

    ¡°Ave Mar¨ªa!¡± she began singing. She wasn¡¯t one to sing during the shower for whatever reason. Instead, she preferred to save singing for drying time. Thus, as she spread the towel across her body, she happily carried on chanting, ¡°cuando ser¨¢s m¨ªa¡­¡±

    All this time, she¡¯d been speaking English effortlessly. She was bilingual, so it came naturally to her. But when it came to singing without putting much brainpower into it, her native Spanish was what came out.

    However, a seemingly innocuous lyric would prove disastrous.

    Her tongue froze, unable to continue speaking. The white walls of the bathroom lost their shine, replaced instead with a deep black tinge. In fact, there were no longer walls. Only a seemingly endless darkness, surrounding her in every direction.

    Elena could tell her body was moving. Yet she remained static; her soul remained fixed in place. Every action her body was undertaking was beyond her control. There were no brakes, no word she could shout. She was moving somewhere, and she could no more than wait. Wait for a chance to regain control¡­

    ¡­and that happened soon.

    At a moment¡¯s notice, color returned to the world. Namely, she was now surrounded by the brown of noble wood. Not much of an improvement in terms of aesthetics, but it felt tangible, unlike that indescribable darkness from before.

    But the hallway¡¯s walls weren¡¯t the only thing surrounding her. As she attempted to move her body, she realized she was being held, her back subjected to the gentle touch of warm hands, while her head rested on someone¡¯s chest.

    She stared upward, and once again found herself entranced by Miles¡¯ golden eyes. She had no desire to question how she got into this situation¡ªshe simply took a break from thinking, basking in the light of his eyes for a pair of seconds she enjoyed like they were minutes.

    Her surroundings, her worries, they were all whisked away. Only her current view mattered. Nothing more.

    And then, reality manifested itself, and she noticed something a little important¡ªshe was still naked.

    ¡°Unhand me, pervert!¡± she cried out, instinctively.

    Miles defended himself. ¡°W¡ªwhat? You¡¯re the one who randomly approached me while naked. If anyone¡¯s the pervert, it¡¯s you!¡± He stared furiously into her eyes; he seemed to be trying real hard to focus on her face, however his eyes on occasion turned against him, aiming themselves toward her body.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. She began contemplating how this could be with a bite of her lip, before deciding to discard that thought. It was better to worry about the why later. Instead, it¡¯d be better to make use of this sudden opportunity brought before her lap.  ¡°Were we¡­ uhmm, planning on doing something. You know, just asking.¡±

    Miles grimaced. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, or why you¡¯re just walking naked down the hall.¡±

    ¡°But do you dislike it if I walk around naked?¡± Elena asked, wearing a sleazy grin.

    ¡°Wh¡ªwhat? What kind¡­ of question¡­ is that?¡± Miles¡¯ face became red like an apple. He attempted to hide his embarrassment by looking away, yet he couldn¡¯t muster the strength needed to prevent his eyes from casting her the occasional glance at her naked body.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s for you to answer.¡± She placed her hand on his shoulder and caressed her own lips with her index finger, now staring at him with eyes that made no effort to hide their thirst.

    ¡°I DON¡¯T KNOW WHAT YOU¡¯RE TALKING ABOUT!¡±

    Following his childish yell, Miles shook off Elena¡¯s grip and dashed across the hallway, heading out of the living quarters and toward the ship¡¯s bow.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s somehow not the worst attempt at flirting I¡¯ve had,¡± Elena said, throwing some shade at herself. Of course, she wasn¡¯t usually naked for those, so I guess that helped this time. Then again, Miles seemed pretty uneasy, so maybe not.

    In any case, it was a good idea to check on him.

    ¡°I better get dressed first. Can¡¯t chance him jumping off the boat.¡±

 Chapter 5: Superhuman

    Careful steps led Elena back to the ship¡¯s outer deck, the metallic doors connecting it to the living quarters remaining open. As soon as her nose kissed the sea salt, wonder struck her eyes.

    ¡°Wow.¡±

    To her surprise, the star-filled sky was not all that met her upon looking up. A blanket of light blue stood between her and the sky. It was some sort of protective barrier, bordering the edges of the vessel. Perhaps it was to prevent people from falling into the water? In that case, it¡¯d probably be more useful during daytime, when people actually wandered the deck.

    In any case, she¡¯d soon be able to get an answer to that question and many more.

    ¡°There he is.¡±

    Miles stood in a firm stance, swinging his arms in a heated sword fight with the surrounding air. Strong gusts of wind blew his hair and clothes, but he seemed unbothered by the cold, his entire body and soul focused on his training and nothing else.

    How can he handle this weather while looking so aloof? I¡¯m freezing!

    Elena sauntered toward him, aiming to talk. To talk about what, she didn¡¯t know. All that mattered was that, if he truly was her story¡¯s romantic lead, they needed to start on the right foot.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Miles asked, without turning around.

    Elena halted abruptly in her tracks. His resonant voice filled her with fear, and the possibility of seriously annoying him shaped itself likely. Perhaps an apology was in form. ¡°Hey, uhmm, sorry for the whole running naked thing. I¡¯ll try not to do so again.¡±

    Miles snorted. ¡°Try? Is that something that¡¯s hard for you to avoid?¡±

    ¡°Nononono, of course not¡­ unless you want me to, of course.¡±

    He turned his entire body around, then spoke sternly, ¡°No. Don¡¯t do that. Like, seriously, don¡¯t. It¡¯s weird.¡±

    ¡°Ok, ok, I won¡¯t do it again. I promise,¡± she said, flailing her arms. It¡¯s not like her antics were intentional, anyway. One moment, she was merrily humming some songs from her hometown, the next she was sleepwalking in the nude. How one thing led to the other, the world would never know.

    Once she finished speaking, Elena cast her gaze downward, fiddling her thumbs. Partly out of being self-conscious of how ridiculous this entire scenario was, but also due to not wanting to be entranced by his eyes again. Last time, it felt like a spell was cast upon giving them a glance, stripping her of her senses and drowning her in his gaze.

    I¡¯ll probably go crazy if I look him in the eyes again.

    Then again, one small peep wouldn¡¯t hurt¡ªshe briefly looked up, and for just a second, the wind that before struck at them viciously had lost its bite.

    For just a second, the surrounding sea, the clouds towering above them, none of them mattered. In that brief instant, the two of them simply exchanged gazes.

    That look was all it took for Elena to realize the weight those pupils carried.

    ¡°If you¡¯re done apologizing, then go to sleep,¡± Miles said, being the one to break the eye contact. ¡°I have training to do.¡± He turned around, now having eyes only for his blade.

    She was indeed done apologizing, but Elena was not gonna allow herself to be sent to bed so easily. Not when her mother used to order her to, and certainly not when she¡¯d just learned something filled those eyes with anxiety. Stroking her lower lip, Elena gave careful consideration to the words soon to follow.

    ¡°Why do you fight?¡± she asked. ¡°Why did you save me?¡± Those questions had been brewing in her mind since their first meeting in the city.

    Miles continued flailing his weapon, before eventually bringing it to a halt. ¡°I follow the Queen¡¯s orders,¡± he said, straight to the point and with no mincing of words. ¡°Now, could you please leave me be?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not just doing it for the money, right?¡±

    Call it womanly instinct, call it a desperate wish that he was covering some kind of interest in her, but Elena felt there was sadness hidden behind the harsh exterior Miles was putting up. His cold demeanor contrasted heavily with the dorky embarrassment he¡¯d shown earlier in the hallway.

    Miles tightened the grip on his rapier. ¡°What makes you think that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to put it, but you just¡­ don¡¯t seem like the type, you know?¡± Her words were delivered clumsily, for they were not true to her real self. In truth, little he¡¯d done suggested any deeper cause for his actions. It was just her attraction to him what led her to cling to the hope that he was more than a simple sellsword.

    A long, loud exhale was Miles¡¯ immediate response. Elena bit her lip, unsure if it meant good or bad news. She wouldn¡¯t have to wait long to find out, as he turned around and spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for my sister.¡± His voice was brittle as if about to shatter, his eyes cast in the direction of the floor.

    Elena brought a hand to her heart, as if trying to slow down its beating. It¡¯d felt a touch rotten to say it, but this scene was a success; Miles had opened his feelings to her, even if for a small, fleeting moment.

    Plus, the wind blew his hair, boosting his aloof aura. Elena was left choiceless but to stare intensely, resisting the urge to squee.

    ¡°W¡ªWhy am I telling you this!¡± he began shouting, all while stomping the wooden floor with his right foot. He then crossed his arms and looked away, his pout still visible to Elena.

    Now, she couldn¡¯t hold her squee in any longer, finding him adorable. Once her fangirl mode was turned off, she decided to be serious and give him some reassurance. ¡°No need to be embarrassed. If I can help you out with finding your sister, I¡¯ll do what I can!¡±

    It was an easy promise to make, considering there wasn¡¯t much she could do, anyway. Regardless, she raised her fist to the sky, a motion that acted as a seal to the envelope that was her conviction.

    Following a defeated sigh, Miles said, ¡°Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we¡¯re handing you to the queen as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. The Queen. The Queen I have a date with. The Queen of¡­uhmm¡­¡±

    ¡°Eternasia,¡± he filled in.

    ¡°Yes, that.¡± She began scratching the back of her head. ¡°I embarrassed myself earlier before Leila.¡±

    ¡°I have no idea how you can grow up not knowing that,¡± he said, his disbelieving face seemingly desiring to be facepalmed, ¡°but in any case, you better strengthen your geography if you want to be a part of our crew.¡±

    Miles raised a valid point. It was probably unwise for a globe-trotting pirate crew to not know the first thing about the world they were sailing.

    In fact, the best course of action would be to educate herself as soon as possible. So swallowing her saliva, she braced herself for the upcoming cringe and straight-up asked, ¡°Could you, like, give me a rundown? Pretty please?¡±

    Miles narrowed his eyes, a sign of being flabbergasted by Elena¡¯s request.

    ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s just¡­ my parents sheltered me a lot as a kid. So like, yeah. You know, never got the chance to learn much.¡± It was about as good of an explanation as she could muster. She could come clean about being from another world, but that would sound even more unbelievable.

    Despite her dishonesty, her words seemed to have lit a fuse in Miles, who raised his eyebrows and stared at her curiously, before asking, ¡°Was your relationship with your parents¡­ uhmm, you know, complicated?¡±

    His question cut through Elena like an axe cuts wood. This whole conversation, it¡¯d been her who attacked him with inquiries into his self, an attempt to break down his defenses and strike at his heart. Yet now, it was he who had delivered a counterattack, searching for an answer Elena struggled to find the strength to give.

    ¡°Yeah. I suppose you could say so,¡± she said solemnly, caressing her left arm. Despite her voice sounding feathery, she found pride in her response. She was proud she¡¯d answered with honesty, even if Miles probably had no way of knowing her parents were not of this world.

    A faint, yet sweet smile seeped out of Miles, who then said, ¡°Fine. Let me give you a basic geography lesson.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Ok, so as you already know, the country where we met is called Luzterna.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± She nodded along.

    ¡°And the city is called Catella.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±

    ¡°Over to the west, we have¡ª¡±

    Miles carried on with his improvised lecture, to which Elena paid attention to. Or at least, she pretended to, her mouth giving out a steady supply of right¡¯s, uh-huh¡¯s and ah, I see¡¯s, all perfectly timed to give the impression she was listening. Instead, Miles¡¯ explanation entered her left ear and exited through her right, as she instead focused on the gap of his shirt, exposing his chest full of white hair and sharply defined abs.

    ¡°¡ªare you even listening to me?¡±

    ¡°Y¡ªYes sir!¡± she yelled, startled after like a minute of zoning out.

    ¡°Geese, what I am going to do with¡ª¡±

    Miles halted his speech mid-sentence, for his eyes became fixed on the horizon. Elena shifted her own gaze to where Miles was looking, and spotted it; covered by a white mist, the shape of a ship was discernible.

    ¡°Sir,¡± cried out Galen, as he slid down the watchtower¡¯s ladder. ¡°Ghost Ship spotted in the distance.¡±

    ¡°Ghost Ship?¡± Elena parroted, realizing this meant bad news. She felt a touch annoyed that he might¡¯ve been listening in on their conversation, but it was not the time to give such petty concerns time to brew.

    ¡°Tell everyone to gather here, weapons ready!¡± Miles ordered in a desperate tone.

    ¡°Roger!¡± Galen turned around, then dashed down the stairs to the living quarters.

    ¡°Elena, follow after him.¡±

    She heeded his words; however her body remained immobile.

    ¡°You heard me? You¡¯ll be safer inside.¡±

    ¡°Will you be fine?¡± she asked, sensing worry in his voice. There was not much she could do when it came to combat, but she still wished to contribute in any way she could. If it was true she was immune to death, then if push came to shove, she could serve as a sacrifice of some sort.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about¡ª¡±

    Before he could finish, a loud sound akin to that of a flowing waterfall pierced their ears, growing increasingly louder by the second. Elena raised her vision and was met with some kind of substance, flashing different shades of purples and blacks and flying through the air.

    Most importantly, it was flying through the air towards her.

    ¡°Watch out!¡±

    Before she could process that her shock was too heavy as to allow her to move, she had been shoved away. Miles had dived forward in her direction, both their bodies dropping one on top of the other onto the hard ground.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    This is the second time this has happened today, she thought, as Miles¡¯ body pressed hers. If attractive people throwing themselves on top of her was going to be a common occurrence, then she wasn¡¯t one to complain

    Those cheeky thoughts would pass as easy as they came, for they were still in danger. Miles quickly got up and drew his sword. A small explosion of purple fume had happened where the purple substance met the vessel¡¯s wood. It cleared out in no time, but what stood before them was a tall, almost humanoid figure.

    ¡°Kill.¡±

    Bones filled what appeared to be the creature¡¯s torso, while its face had random patches of skin intertwined with plain, naked bone. A long, thin beak stood where a person¡¯s nose would be, and a long horn decorated its forehead. The surrounding air became polluted with a smell so putrid it made mortals wish for death.

    ¡°Spawn of the Crow God, how dare you invade my beloved mother¡¯s domain!¡± cried out Miles, his face swollen in anger.

    ¡°Kill,¡± the creature repeated, now gripping its horn. The skeletal creature used its hand to slowly pull its own horn out. Once held in its hand, a black aura wrapped the horn, transforming it into a long spear.

    ¡°Watch out!¡±

    Despite resembling a human, the creature lacked a will. Killing was its only desire, and it had no qualm with throwing its own life away in the aim of fulfilling that ambition¡ªif it even had a life, that is.

    And so, the creature started its charge toward Miles. The latter stood firm, proudly raising his weapon but careful not to commit to any sloppy movement he may regret.

    ¡°Kill.¡±

    The creature¡¯s single word was monotone, almost calming, a complete contrast to the pure bloodlust it demonstrated with its harsh attack. The horn-turned-weapon attempted to poke at Miles¡¯ chest, but it was avoided, as the agile rogue dodged to his right.

    Now to its right, Miles readied his blade for a counterattack. There was a difference in range, as the spear significantly outranged the rapier Miles wielded, but he quickly made up the difference with a swift dash forward.

    Once close enough, Miles raised his blade, attempting to bring it down to cut through the monster¡¯s skull.

    ¡°Kill.¡±

    To his dismay, his blow was blocked. The edge of his blade crashed with the tip of the spear, blocking his attack with such force he recoiled, being pushed a few steps back and nearly losing his handle on his weapon.

    ¡°Stupid Dark Kabeasts,¡± he whispered, as he swept the sweat off his forehead.

    The Kabeast had in truth not tried to guard against his strike. To do that would mean going on the defensive, and only beings with care for their lives can know of such a concept. Instead, it had attempted to quench its lust for death with a stab on Miles¡¯ neck. It was simply an unhappy accident that their weapons had decided to meet with one another.

    ¡°Kill.¡±

    What distinguished a Dark Kabeast from a soldier was the way the being saw killing. It bore no meaning if the one perishing was a fellow warrior or an innocent. Death was the only language it understood, a language with all its words spelled the exact same way.

    Hence why, the Kabeast turned its head and then its body, much like a cursed doll. Its target had shifted, turning its attention to the closest living being it could find and rushing in its direction.

    Elena, who had been watching the fight from the sidelines, was now about to meet the sharp end of a spear.

    ¡°ARGHH!¡±

    Elena¡¯s reflexes were nowhere near those of Miles, but she still managed to leap away in time to save her life. Unfortunately, the Kabeast had swung while taking evasive maneuvers into account, and the spear managed to clip her leg. The sudden pain killed her balance, and she dropped prone on the floor, blood quickly beginning to leak out of her injured leg.

    Time froze for a second, as thoughts raced on her mind.

    Don¡¯t tell me¡­ not again...

    Once again, she was lying on the ground, facing a dangerous situation far above anything she was used to dealing with on Earth. The creature was fast, so if it comes to finish her off, death would once again befall her.

    This time, she could at least get on her knees, the adrenaline enough to ignore her pain for a second.

    But it was not enough, as the Kabeast had closed the distance in the time she had barely managed to only think.

    ¡°Kill.¡±

    And thus, the beast stabbed with its spear.

    Would this be the last time? Was it even truly death what she¡¯d experienced before? Earlier, she¡¯d thought about abusing her potential ability to avoid death, yet now that the chance to confirm if such an ability truly exists, she was met with fear. Fear was the only emotion that swept her body as the device of death traveled toward her, only prayer left as her only form of defense.

    Her prayer would be answered, for the stab would not go through.

    The Kabeast split in two, its torso and head propelling upward, as its legs fell to the ground.

    In the nick of time, Miles managed to cleave through the Kabeast¡¯s body with his sword. Despite its exterior being raw bone, organs flew out of its body like confetti out of a pi?ata, tainting the floor with blood and other internal liquids, some of which slashed Elena. It was gross, but she was just happy to be alive.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elena said, before bringing her gaze down. Lying on the floor, a heart beat, devoid of blood to pump yet beating nevertheless. Eventually, it dissolved, turning into a purple liquid that quickly evaporated.

    ¡°What even are these things?¡± she asked, as Miles helped her get up.

    ¡°Kabeasts. Usually they¡¯re incapable of piercing the barrier,¡± he said, in reference to the barrier surrounding the boat. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong here.¡±

    He wouldn¡¯t have time to think, as once again, that waterfall-like sound from before resounded. Behind them, three more Dark Kabeasts spawned. One wielded an axe, another a sword, and the last one had sharp claws for hands.

    A single Kabeast was enough to serve a challenge to a warrior of even Miles¡¯ skill, their lack of concern for their own survival enough to overcome the disparity in skill. Three of them would prove an insurmountable problem.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you use that fire thing you did in town? You know, where you swing your sword and it goes woosh?¡±

    ¡°Are you insane? I¡¯ll set the ship on fire.¡±

    Miles nonetheless readied his weapon. No number of monsters could put a dent in his determination. If they kept coming, he¡¯d eagerly cut every last one of them.

    ¡°We¡¯re here!¡±

    Announcing his arrival, Bronson stormed into the battlefield with careless bravery. He bent his beefy legs and leaped into the air, flying over Miles¡¯ and Elena¡¯s heads, a large battleaxe held in his hands; he swung it over his head as his body plummeted downward, the blade landing on a Kabeast¡¯s skull with enough strength to quake even the air itself.

    ¡°I¡¯ll cover you,¡± said Leila to Bronson, she too arriving at the scene. Out of her trouser¡¯s pocket, she pulled out the same gun-like device Elena¡¯s seen before; once again, a fireball came out of the barrel and engulfed the enemies. The device produced enough recoil to almost knock Leila backward off her feet, yet her skillful handling of it shone through, and she managed to keep her balance.

    The combined power of the two fighters was enough to diminish the threat the two beasts created, but the battle had not ended. More and more Kabeasts kept spawning the instant one fell. The crew¡¯s pirate ship had turned into a battlefield, one where one side was able to provide reinforcement. Bronson, from this point of view, could be said to be the one who defends the frontline; he stood strong and swung his axe sideways, aiming to control as much space as possible, each swing catching multiple creatures at once. In case any Kabeast tried to catch him off-guard, Leila could pick them off from a distance. It was a simple battle plan, one they seemed to carry with proficiency, but also one whose efficiency was limited by the never-ending forces the two of them were up against.

    Galen, meanwhile, was a no-show. Considering his body was lanky and his character was posh, it was a safe guess that he wasn¡¯t much of a fighter. What was more interesting was Miles, who, despite his fighting prowess, was staying out of combat, instead glancing intently at the Ghost Ship

    ¡°Thank you, guys,¡± said Miles, breathing a sigh of relief. ¡°Please handle these guys. I¡¯ll take on the ship.¡±

    Elena raised an eyebrow and stared at him incredulously. ¡°You¡¯re gonna take on the entire ship all by yourself?¡±

    ¡°If I can take out the captain, the Ship will disappear.¡±

    ¡°Ok, but how are you¡ª¡±

    Before she could finish, Miles pulled a red stone out of the hilt of his sword, a small hole left in its place. Then, without even sparing it a look, he slotted in a stone of similar shape but of light-green color.

    He raised his blade toward the sky, then proclaimed, ¡°God that blesses us with the warmth of Wind, give my feet the strength to carry me through, give my blade the edge to cut through adversity.¡±

    From out of nowhere, gusts of winds began to blow from all cardinal directions. Miles¡¯s blade had become the compass that guided all these disparate winds; they swirled around the blade, encasing it in a shield of gale.

    Soon enough, the blade¡¯s blessing had spread to the body of its owner. Soon enough, there was no longer a distinction between sword and swordsman. Miles had become one with his sword. Miles had become one with the wind.

    Elena, who stared with awe, blinked, and in the time it took for her eyes to open yet again, Miles had vanished from her sight. ¡°Where did he¡ª¡±

    Suddenly, the water caught her eye. Off in the distance, large water splashes could be spotted, as well as a human figure whose size decreased every second.

    Un-fucking-believable.

    Whatever that stone Miles had used was, it¡¯d allowed him to merge with the wind. Hence, he earned the will to move at a speed only befitting of the wind. His feet came in contact with the surface of the water and moved fast enough to not sink, the sea splitting every time he took a step.

    This guy is either Sonic the Hedgehog, or Jesus.

    Elena was in absolute disbelief that not only had she been blessed with a hot but dorky rogue for a love interest, but also he just so happened to be a superhuman.

    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t I find men like that in my previous¡ª¡±

    Her thinking out loud was interrupted abruptly, as the ground shook beneath her feet, the sudden earthquake accompanied by loud thuds.

    ¡°We¡¯re hit!¡± Leila blurted out.

    Leila¡¯s call was enough to figure out what had occurred. A projectile had collided with the ship, throwing it out of balance. The ship began to tilt, the flat floor slowly morphing into a slide of death.

    Bronson stabbed the floor¡¯s wood with his axe. Clinging on to it like a hanging bar, he made it harder for gravity to take effect and cause his body to slip off. Leila, meanwhile, was fast on her feet, and opened a small trapdoor that hid a stairway. Using its walls as a surface to stand on, she had no issue with finding her footing

    ¡°Elena!¡± they both shouted in unison, their voices screeching with worry.

    It spoke to their confidence in their abilities, that even in such a precarious scenario, they were mostly concerned with Elena¡¯s safety.

    There was reason for this concern, as Elena was far less athletic than either of them. When the boat began tilting, Elena found herself slipping, what she called floor now next to her as a wall.

    ¡°Oh crap.¡± It was do-or-die. She needed to find something to grab onto, or else the ocean¡¯s tides awaited her.

    Of course, the possibility of waking up after death came into her mind in the form of brief flashes. Considering her lack of fighting skills, it would perhaps be better to let herself die, and just let Bronson and Leila handle everything, and wake up in a better scenario.

    After all, she¡¯d heard them. All they did was call her name, but that was all it took for her to know she was nothing more than a load. They spared no worries for one another; only for the worthless non-combatant.

    ¡°...¡±

    But she gave up on that train of thought.

    Not because it was a train on the wrong track, mind you. But because she gave one glance at the water. It splashed the side of the ship with the strength of a storm, and that was all it took for her to disregard any and all route that had a wet coffin as its destination.

    To die by drowning¡­ hell would freeze over before she went through that.

    Hell would freeze over before she allowed herself to go through that again.

    Thus, in the nick of time, her eyes caught wind of the watchtower¡¯s ladder, the same one Galen used to climb it up and down. In one last desperate struggle, she lunged toward it just as the ground seemed to vanish beneath her feet. Much like Bronson, she managed to hang on for dear life, her feet dangling over the air. Tears of blood rained down, stemming from her prior leg injury.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± Elena exclaimed joyfully, as she breathed a sigh of relief.

    Of course, it was inaccurate to say the danger had ceased. Her arm strength wasn¡¯t the best, so there was only so long she could hold on before falling down. But for a moment in time, Elena cared not. She was simply happy to avoid being at the sea¡¯s mercy, and the adrenaline prevented her mind from feeling her leg¡¯s pain or from feeling her arm starting to tire.

    In any case, the moment would come to a fast end, as that unbearable odor pounded her nostrils once again, growing ever stronger. Drought with hesitation, she looked upward.

    Standing on the wood of the now-angled watchtower, a Kabeast approached her, a spear in its hands.

    There were no words it could say, and there were no words she could say for it. By simply glancing at it, Elena could tell her death was its only goal.

    As the creature raised its weapon, little room remained for ambiguity, no room for choices beyond two. Elena had to choose between hanging on to certain death by blade, or gamble for the faint hope of survival born of opening her hands and letting herself fall.

    It was a simple choice with an obvious, correct choice. And yet at first, her body froze, the prospect of a burial by sea chilling enough to slow down her decision-making.

    Yet, as the spear approached her neck, she made her decision.

    Her hands released their grip on the ladder, and her body began sliding down. The time spent hesitating had come to betray her, however, and the spear¡¯s edge managed to clip her forehead.

    ¡°AUGH!¡± Elena let out a loud groan, loud enough to reach the heavens.

    ¡°Elena!¡±

    The others called her name. But it didn¡¯t matter. The sharp weapon had torn a hole in her skull. All her head now knew was pain. Sound, vision, all had been replaced by pain, the passage of time beginning to both slow down and increase in tempo.

    Before her senses shut down for good, she felt her body become one with the sea. Soon, the only record of her life would be her red blood, breaking the monotony of blue by painting a small portion of the ocean.

    Her vision was blurred, but she knew what this was. She was soon to drown. Yet somehow, panic was the only emotion she couldn¡¯t feel. This time, peace overwhelmed her body.

    Her body sunk deeper and deeper into the depths, the surface growing increasingly out of touch. It felt like hands were dragging her down, dragging her further from him.

    Is it foolish¡­to hope?

    Once again, death came accompanied by mocking images.

    Wouldn¡¯t it be nice if Miles somehow dived into the water? If he risked his life to save her? If the man was truly superhuman, surely such an act of heroism wasn¡¯t beyond him.

    That foolish idea was all her mind could cling to, a brief respite from its despair.

    That was the image her mind left her with, as the water filled her lungs, bringing her life to an end.

    Swallowed by waves of the Dead Sea, was a foolish girl.

    A girl foolish enough to think hope existed for her, ignorant to the fact that her fate was already sealed. That all roads she could take only led to one end.

    The moment the surrounding ocean blue was replaced by the darkness of death, any picture of hope disappeared.

    Because in death, my dear Elena, there is only one face you¡¯ll see.

    Mine.

 Chapter 6: Emotion

    ¡ªDarkness.

    That was all her existence had become. Time no longer mattered, feelings were no longer there. An ever-present darkness flooded her very soul, drowning her spirit in a dark sea.

    Like all deep waters, however, there was a surface, distant yet attainable. And soon enough, she reached for that surface.

    As soon as her head rose out of the depths, the darkness of despair she¡¯d been drenched in gave way to a more gentle, even peaceful darkness. A darkness clad in familiarity, one which Elena, no, every living being had experience with.

    She had no voice with which to describe it, yet her subconscious mind could feel the difference: this was the darkness of sleep. A profound sleep, no doubt, but one unlike that of death. A sleep with an expiration date, one whose darkness would soon give way to light.

    And her mind was correct, as soon enough, a ray of light broke through her dark realm.

    ¡ª

    A light-brown ceiling met her eyes, both eyelids working a Herculean effort to not close like blinds. Some faint decorative patterns adorned the ceiling, but what most stuck out was the giant chandelier hanging down, its bowl as well as its chains made of gold.

    She twisted her body a bit, a simple action she¡¯d become unaccustomed to. She was lying on a bed, her head resting on a pillow while her lower body was covered by bedsheets, the fabric adorned with ornate flower patterns. Further observation of her surroundings revealed a large closet, a large double door, and a window through which light entered the room. A desk with a mirror also stood opposite to the bed, all sorts of fancy jewelry scattered on top of it.

    On occasion, Elena¡¯s view of the world would shake, but it was only an illusion, her head not yet back into the habit of perceiving reality. In truth, everything was static. Unlike the dizzying interiors of the pirate ship, everything stood in place. The wardrobe stood in place, the chandelier stood in place, the mannequin by the door frame stood in place¡­

    Wait¡­ a moment.

    What Elena was seeing wasn¡¯t actually a mannequin. Despite her lack of even the faintest motion, it was evident the female figure by the door was no doll, but instead a real, human girl. This clarity came from her deep blue eyes, which were aimed at the wall in front of her, then suddenly switched to intently watching Elena.

    ¡°...¡±

    Elena had already arrived at the conclusion that this was a person of meat and bone. Yet as the seconds ticked by with nothing but stares exchanged between the two of them, she began to cast doubt on her own assessment. Now that she got a better look at the girl¡¯s pupils, she could tell they were in an uncomfortable middle ground between reality and artificiality; her eyes were too devoid of life to belong to a person, yet her pupils had a natural beauty no human creation could ever imitate.

    The eye contact would be shattered, as the girl abruptly turned her body around and opened the door, leaving. The presence of large windows and a red carpet were the only hints Elena could catch of the room¡¯s exterior.

    Left alone and fully back to her senses, Elena took the time to make sense of her situation.

    There was no chance she somehow found herself back on Miles¡¯ ship. From the little she¡¯d seen of this place, it seemed far too lavish compared to the modest living quarters of Miles¡¯ crew. Not to mention, the ground wasn¡¯t moving all the time from constant waves.

    She¡¯d woken up somewhere else, somewhere she couldn¡¯t recognize. In a sense, she was in the same position as when she first arrived upon this world.

    The door opened, bringing her contemplation to an end. The girl from before strolled in, her face carrying no emotion but with steps of precise intent; she stood right in front of the wooden door like a statue. With her light-brown skin and brown clothes, it was easy to think she was trying to use the door as camouflage; her unusual silver hair shattered any chance of that occurring, however.

    Notably, she hadn¡¯t closed the door while stepping in, with a good reason. Soon enough, a tall, young man rushed into the room, his blond hair a mess.

    ¡°You¡¯re finally awake. Thank Goodness.¡±

    Once again, Elena had Skyrim flashbacks. After a small shake of her head, she brushed them aside and concentrated on what was going on.

    The man stared at her lovingly, with an earnest smile to accompany his piercing green eyes. Throughout her time in this world, Elena had been on the receiving end of many a stare, yet something about his felt different. It felt like his pupils were camera lenses, trying to capture as much of her as possible.

    ¡°Number 9, help her get dressed,¡± he suddenly ordered. ¡°I want to see her in the most beautiful dress this land has ever seen!¡±

    Breaking her camouflage, the girl nodded her head, then finally said, ¡°Yes, Master Charles.¡± Her words were as devoid of emotion as her body was devoid of motion. It¡¯s surprising she didn¡¯t just die from her heart not moving fast enough to pump blood.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, that won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Elena said. ¡°I can get dressed by myse¡ª¡±

    Elena tried to get up, but the moment she planted her feet on the ground, she caught wind of her own naked body. She let out a ¡°Whaaaaaat¡±, her face shifting between discomfort and embarrassment.

    Charles briefly stared open-mouthed, before turning around and crossing his arms. He began stammering, ¡°E¡ªhem. My¡­ my dear, it is improper to show yourself like that in front of a man.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s my dress?¡± asked Elena, throwing glances at every corner of the room.

    ¡°It was dirty and full of holes. Improper cloth for such a beautiful girl as yourself. But inside that wardrobe you¡¯ll find dresses that¡¯ll make you forget about that old rag.¡±

    Every sentence he said was followed by a brief pause, during which he cast a quick look at Elena¡¯s body. He was trying to be discreet, but Elena wasn¡¯t fooled, causing her to roll her eyes and groan. Even if this body wasn¡¯t hers, she didn¡¯t appreciate being ogled.

    Defeated and with a grimace, Elena said, ¡°Fine, she can help me out. But you better get out of here!¡±

    She voiced her order like she owned the place, and Charles reacted accordingly. ¡°Yes, of course, I¡¯ll leave you two ladies alone.¡±

    Fast on his feet, Charles abandoned the room and closed the door. Elena let out a long sigh. ¡°I thought that creep would never leave,¡± she voiced out loud. Immediately after, she covered her mouth with her hands, remembering she wasn¡¯t actually alone. Just now, she¡¯d been struck by the realization that saying such things in front of one of Charles¡¯ subjects might be unwise. With hesitation, Elena¡¯s eyes slowly shifted toward those of the girl, expecting to be met with some sort of reaction.

    ¡°...¡±

    In hindsight, she had no idea what had made her expect such a thing. Normal human behavior, perhaps, but that was not something this girl, whom Charles had referred to as ¡°Number 9¡±, had displayed so far. Case in point, she reacted by not reacting at all, instead calmly approaching the wardrobe¡¯s door, then opening it.

    ¡°Choose,¡± Number 9 said.

    Water began flowing inside Elena¡¯s mouth. A long row of elaborate dresses presented themselves before her like it was a catwalk. From diamond green to salmon pink, the full gamut of colors was represented. Even she, who cared little for dressing well, could not deny the glamour each finely crafted piece of tailoring exuded.

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    ¡°Please, make your choice,¡± Number 9 repeated.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare rush me,¡± she replied, hearts on her eyes. She was bad at making decisions, and this time was certainly not going to be any different.

    After about twenty minutes, her eyes became entranced by one with a crimson red silk, with open shoulders and accompanied by a scarf made of fur. She began imagining a movie scene where she, oozing in glamour, assisted a large ball while taking zips of wine¡­

    Wait a moment, I don¡¯t even drink.

    Besides, it¡¯s not like going partying was something she desired anyway. She had no idea where she was, but regardless of where this was, she wanted to get out of dodge and get back to her pirate adventure as soon as possible.

    ¡°...¡±

    She took another glance at the dress again.

    But¡­ if I¡¯m gonna be stuck here anyway¡­. might as well make the most of it!

    Simply put, the dress was far too pretty to let herself wrapped up in silly worries, so she told Number 9 to help her put it on.

    ¡°Very well, My Lady.¡±

    ¡°No need to be so formal,¡± said Elena with a cheeky grin. She stood up, fully exposing her nude self to Number 9¡¯s gaze. ¡°Just call me Elena,¡± she added. As much as she enjoyed the sound of the word lady being used in reference to her, she¡¯d rather not get treated like a master.

    In contrast to Charles, Number 9¡¯s focus remained solely on her lady¡¯s eyes, it at no point diverting toward Elena¡¯s breasts or thighs.

    She at first said nothing, but then let out a ¡°Very well, Elena.¡± Her body was firm as a rock, and her speech remained formal to the point of being robot-like, which made the use of Elena¡¯s name by itself stand out.

    ¡°Wow, you learn pretty fast. I was expecting you to say ¡®Yes, Lady Elena¡¯ instead,¡± Elena said, imitating Number 9¡¯s speech patterns. Or lack thereof. ¡°Are you an AI or something?¡±

    ¡°I do not know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Ironically, her denial made her come across as even more robotic, still uttered in complete monotone despite the strange nature of Elena¡¯s question.

    ¡°Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn¡¯t know what that is.¡±

    Without bothering with some sort of closer for their conversation, Number 9 stretched her right arm, with the aim of pulling out the hanger with the red dress.

    It was then that Elena spotted what appeared to be a tattoo on her arm. It was colored blue, and appeared to be in the shape of a full moon, with splashing water surrounding it. Presumably, this was an artistic representation of the changing tides of the sea.

    ¡°Please turn around,¡± she asked, holding up the dress.

    ¡°Uhhm, sure,¡± Elena replied. She wasn¡¯t sure why turning around was necessary, but was happy to oblige.

    As soon as her back was turned, something unreal occurred.

    An audible gasp left Number 9¡¯s mouth.

    This was the first time the girl had shown so much as a hint of emotion, catching Elena off-guard. ¡°Is everything alright?¡±

    ¡°You¡­ you¡­ are a¡­ a¡­¡± she stuttered in response.

    ¡°I¡¯m a what?¡± Elena asked, tilting her head.

    Elena¡¯s confused tone caused a flip to switch inside Number 9¡¯s mind, as she performed a short hop in place, and then followed by bowing her head repeatedly.

    ¡°My apologies, Elena. It will not happen again.¡±

    Elena giggled. ¡°You have nothing to apologize for. Come on, help me out.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    ¡ª

    ¡°Oh my gosh! I. Look. Incredible!¡±

    She couldn¡¯t believe what she saw as she stared at the mirror. Clad in an elegance worthy of making any supermodel quake in envy, Elena was overwhelmed with glee.

    ¡°Woooo!¡±

    She stretched her arms to her sides like an airplane, then began spinning her body around. The hem of the dress spun along with her, a whirlwind of red possessing the air.

    That lasted until she started to feel dizzy.

    ¡°Wowowow¡±¡ªshe flailed her arms, trying not to fall backward, ¡°ok, let¡¯s not do that again. Seriously though, just look at this thing! I look like a queen! Mara would seethe if she saw me like this!¡±

    It was a simple pleasure, but not one she was used to. She rarely got to dress up in anything fancy during her previous life. And even when she did, she never felt her body could live up to the beauty of whatever clothing she¡¯d decided upon. But now that she was borrowing someone¡¯s else¡¯s skin, that feeling was entirely absent.

    For the first time in her life, the mirror had shown Elena a frame that pleased her.

    ¡°Man, screw feminism, sometimes all you need to raise your mood really is to just look pretty!¡± she joked to an audience of only herself.

    She wasn¡¯t being serious, of course, but she couldn¡¯t help but admit her hypocrisy. Back when she used to read Isekai comics, she¡¯d roll her eyes at all the screen time wasted on showing lavish fashion that existed for no reason but for the sake of costume porn, cringing at the protagonists who¡¯d go crazy over some florid clothing even when far more important things were going on. Yet there she was, observing the dress from every angle, noticing small details she hadn¡¯t before.

    Of course, the fact that she was the one wearing the fabric instead of just being a reader with an escapist fantasy probably helped. Criticizing a character¡¯s actions became a lot harder when she was the character in question. The emotional high of wearing beauty overruled any potential cynicism toward fashion she might¡¯ve once had.

    ¡°How do I look?¡± Elena turned around and asked Number 9, who observed her shenanigans how a guard dog watches a house.

    Number 9 didn¡¯t respond. She showed no sign of having even registered the question. ¡°Hey, how do I look?¡± Elena repeated. Again, no response.

    Maybe she didn¡¯t realize I am talking to her?

    It¡¯d be strange, since nobody else was in the room, but this girl was full of surprises. To guarantee no further miscommunication, Elena needed to refer to her by name.

    Wait, her name¡­

    Embarrassment overtook her body. She¡¯d forgotten to ask for the girl¡¯s name.

    ¡°Uhmm, I know it¡¯s kinda awkward to ask for this now, but¡­ what¡¯s your name?¡± she asked, sounding as if she feared she¡¯d get kicked in response.

    Not even two seconds went by, and ¡°Number 9¡± was the curt reply Elena received.

    ¡°Oh come on, that¡¯s not a name. That¡¯s a number.¡± It was at that moment that it sunk in that the girl¡¯s clothes were all worn out, with torn-out spots all over her body that left her skin exposed. ¡°Also, there are plenty of clothes there in the closet, you should get something better to wear.¡± The difference in their attires was vast, so much so that it was making Elena feel uneasy.

    In a rare moment of showing emotion, Number 9 raised her eyebrows, then said, ¡°Huh? I am a servant, I am not allowed access to the Royal Wardrobe.¡±

    Her voice was clad in anxiety, and her hand gripped her shirt. Luster now filled her eyes, her stare no longer that of a robot masquerading as a human, but instead those of a frightened girl.

    The feeling of uncanniness pounded further at Elena¡¯s neck. While seeing some emotion come out of Number 9 was an accomplishment, to see fear be that emotion only served to raise the question of what the source of that fear was.

    Furthermore, her answer also made no sense. Even if she was a servant, why would the owners of this place disturb the regal atmosphere by disallowing the staff from dressing well?

    At that moment, a sudden knock on the door startled them. After a moment of hesitation, Elena said, ¡°Come on in!¡±

    The door opened, and a tall man of silver hair made his way in. He was clad in plate armor, and four scars of different shapes were strewn across his face.

    ¡°My lady, allow me to introduce myself,¡± he said to Elena, placing his hand on his heart, ¡°My name is Thales Lockgood, head of the Knights of Luzterna and your escort for the day. I am pleased to meet you.¡°

    ¡°Uhmm, an escort, you said?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Prince Charles requested for me to come pick you up. Please, follow me.¡±

    ¡°P¡ªPrince?¡±

    The gears inside Elena¡¯s head began spinning at Mach speed. Not only had she awoken in some sort of luxurious palace, but in the most important place in the country.

    If fortune kept up, she could maybe end up as a princess, as she¡¯d only dreamed of as a child. Charles hadn¡¯t particularly appealed to her tastes in men, but who knows, maybe talking to him would change her mind.

    She began rapidly tapping her chest with her hands, a joyful reaction to such exciting news.

    ¡°Shall we go?¡±

    ¡°Y¡ªYes!¡± she confidently answered.

    Wasting no time, she followed after Thales, eager to see what this would all lead to.

    So eager, in fact, she nearly missed out on an important detail.

    As she was crossing the door, she glanced back at the room of her awakening one last time.

    She spotted Number 9. She couldn¡¯t get a good look, but she appeared to be shivering and hyperventilating.

    Worried, she tried to go back in, but Thales blocked her with both his arm and with words. ¡°Please, let¡¯s not delay any further. Prince Charles is waiting for us.¡±

    ¡°I just thought that¡­¡± She didn¡¯t want to call someone by a number, so there was no path that allowed her to continue with that sentence.

    ¡°Don¡¯t concern yourself with such matters. Making the prince wait could prove disastrous,¡± Thales spoke, with such sternness and conviction as to come across as a touch intimidating.

    Elena felt a shiver down her spine. His black stare engulfed her body, and made her hesitant to disobey.

    ¡°Sure. Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter 7: Sweetener

    Elena walked the floors of a long hall inside what had turned out to be the Royal Palace of the country of Luzterna. To her left, paintings of gorgeous women hung by the walls. To her right, large windows delivered a view into the Royal Family¡¯s vast gardens, as well as the profile of the knight currently walking beside her.

    A man of many achievements, as indicated by all the medals decorating his uniform, but of scarce words. Thales silently walked, his hand always hovering over his scabbard.

    ¡°So, where are we going, exactly? I can¡¯t walk for very long in heels, you know?¡±

    Her words were an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but instead they only served to make the return to silence even more discomforting. Thales simply gave her a stern look, his eyes shifting to the left but the rest of his head still facing forward.

    They traded looks for but a second, but it was enough to send Elena through a mixture of emotions. She put out a timid laugh and then immediately gulped. She¡¯d spoken out of turn, and now had to breathe the awkward air. At the same time, there was something admittedly attractive about the man¡¯s towering presence. His high stature and firm posture carried across his role as a knight, and the presence of faint battle scars showed his experience in battle. Then, his white hair combined with the occasional wrinkle to give the impression of¡­

    He¡¯s a daddy she thought, without even a sliver of shame.

    Eventually, Thales opened a door for Elena. It gave way to a room with a large table in the center, chairs right by it. A tall, lit-up chimney was present, as well as another one of those really large chandeliers. A green carpet gave color to the ground, while yellow paint did the same to the walls.

    Thales pulled the nearest chair. ¡°His Highness will arrive soon. Sit and await him here.¡±

    There was no please or other form of sweetener for his words. Thales phrased his words like an order. Even for such mundane matters as this, his behavior remained that of a Captain.

    ¡°T¡ªThank you.¡±

    Elena lowered her rear to sit while inspecting the contents of the table. Before her butt could even touch the chair, she¡¯d already begun salivating. A cavalcade of sweets, from chocolates to pastries, lay on the table, tempting her to eat them. Her eyes gravitated toward slices of cake with both Strawberries and slices of Pineapple on top, instantly bringing back memories of her aunt and the delicious cakes she used to bake.

    As if possessed, Elena instinctively began reaching for a slice. However, her brain then immediately started pressing the brakes. She swiftly pulled back her arm, and simply sat there, her mind fully active and her body devoid of action.

    On second thought, maybe it was better not to eat anything.

    Besides, this entire meal felt too extravagant for her.

    Is this just an average tea time for people here?

    Tea was indeed served as well. In the center of the table, there was a tray with a circle of teacups, each made of fine porcelain. There was one missing, however. Namely, the one right across from the nearest to Elena.

    It wasn¡¯t actually missing, of course. It was in the air, held by slim fingers and on the receiving end of a form of kiss, bright red lips taking a long zip out of it.

    Only just now had Elena¡¯d noticed that the food wasn¡¯t her only company. Sitting in parallel to her was a lady of crimson hair, its length enough to cover both her entire back and a bit of her eyes. What it couldn¡¯t cover was the brief, intense stare she briefly gave Elena, before closing her eyes and taking another zip of tea.

    ¡°Umm, hello?¡± Elena waved her hand nervously.

    The woman opened her eyes, the same intense glare striking at Elena, who was now visibly shaking in her chair. She now placed the teacup down, gently as if laying a baby to bed, and grabbed a bite of a nearby muffin.

    Elena simply stared with awe. This lady¡¯s movements seemed calculated, choreographed even. As she bit into the muffin, no crumbs fell onto the table nor to the floor, and what few remained on her face were cleanly and efficiently cleaned up with a napkin. The delicacy with which she performed every action was unlike that of a human, akin more to that of a Barbie doll. It was certainly unlike that of Elena, who was a complete monster when it came to munching down food.

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    All this time, it appeared the woman was either unaware of or indifferent to Elena¡¯s presence. It would eventually prove to be the latter.

    ¡°Are you going to eat something?¡± the woman said out of the blue.

    Startled, Elena felt her throat clog up. ¡°Umm, no, I think I¡¯ll pass,¡± she answered, twiddling her forefingers. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about leaving anything for me.¡±

    ¡°Are you implying I¡¯d be such a pig as to eat all of this by myself?¡±

    ¡°Nonononono,¡± Elena replied, shaking her head rapidly, her sweat flying through the air. She was attempting to be courteous, yet it seemed her statement had been interpreted in the worst way possible.

    ¡°Maybe filthy commoners like yourself could fill your bellies with so much sugar, but a lovely maiden like myself must make sure to maintain their lovely figure,¡± she said, then bit into another muffin.

    Elena twisted her mouth at what she heard. She didn¡¯t know the exact details of this world¡¯s society, but odds were that a commoner couldn¡¯t afford such an extravagant banquet very often, if at all.

    Then again, she did bring up a good point. It was probably a good idea to not eat much. This body was borrowed, and it¡¯d be unfair to its original owner to tarnish it with fat. Besides, it was fun to have a thin body for once, and she was somehow not particularly hungry, despite having gone days without eating.

    After she herself was done with eating, the woman raised her chin, and with a smirk said, ¡°Hmph, do my words possess such bite as to leave you both without hunger and without speech?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Elena blurted out.

    ¡°Eat already. It is disrespectful of you to stand in the presence of none other than Annalise Dermak and make me look like a cow with an unstoppable hunger.¡± As she finished saying that, she swiped a slice of cake. Despite her previous remarks, she carried on eating without anything resembling self-control.

    From her prim dress, to her golden earrings and necklaces, Annalise reeked of wealth and privilege. It was to be expected for her to display behaviors that were alien to a commoner, yet common sense in the alien world of the rich. Hence, why she¡¯d be offended by Elena¡¯s inaction. To one shaped by a world where your appearance defines you, it was a sin to give the impression of being a gluttonous hawk.

    Elena remained silent and motionless, and for that was met with a glare so bitter as to zap the energy out of her.

    ¡°Oh, my bad,¡± she muttered.

    Maybe it was for the better to play along with the whims of the wealthy. She bit her lower lip, before reaching for a slice of the same cake. Unlike Annalise, her arm¡¯s movement was slow, drenched in hesitation.

    In truth, all along, there was a wall, a great force that¡¯d prevented her from eating anything, so subtle it lacked a physical form, yet so firmly present that she had no option but to acknowledge its presence.

    The pastry slowly approached Elena¡¯s mouth, vibrating along the way, the strawberry nearly slipping off. Her eyes identified its taste as likely to be a delight, yet her stomach groaned all the same.

    This contradiction was one born of her mind. During her last few years on Earth, she¡¯d been unable to enjoy sweet things. Not for dislike of their taste, nor out of any specific medical concern. No, her palate had simply unlearned how to perceive their taste. The sugar seemingly vanished the moment it hit her mouth, instead her body experiencing an overwhelmingly sour sense of emptiness.

    A gluttonous slayer of candy as a child, adolescence had ripped from Elena a pleasure she¡¯d once enjoyed. Simply glancing at the table full of pastries was enough to perturb her.

    ¡°So, what are you waiting for?¡± Annalise remarked smugly, her index finger on her chin. ¡°Are you so inept as to not know how to eat?¡±

    Ever since she arrived in this world, she¡¯d failed every trial she had to overcome. The ruffians shot her, the deathly Kabeasts pushed her into the cold waters. To add something as mundane as eating a slice of cake to such a list would be embarrassing.

    So, she took a deep breath, and let her mouth open, the cream topping dancing with her tongue.

    Suddenly, her eyes lit up, at the same time the slice slid down her neck

    Annalise tilted her head, as Elena looked as if she¡¯d found a diamond.

    ¡°It¡¯s so good.¡± She exclaimed. She took another bite, this time with no hesitation, then repeated, ¡°It¡¯s so, so good.¡± She then continued munching down on the piece of cake at the pace of a hungry pig. Before long, she¡¯d swallowed it whole.

    Annalise looked in disgust. The girl that before had shown restraint even to breathe had now morphed into a vicarious beast, devouring biscuit after biscuit with reckless abandon, stuffing one after another in her mouth like they were nothing.

    Tiny tears began forming in Elena¡¯s eyes. ¡°It¡¯s been¡­ so long.¡±

    Though her thoughts may be her own, her brain was nonetheless not hers. It had not yet been tainted with worries and anxieties, and thus, its reaction to glucose remained a normal one.

    Elena caressed her own shoulders with a warm smile, undisturbed by Annalise¡¯s increasingly condescending glare.

    Thank you, new body.

    What this world had in store for her future, she didn¡¯t know. Maybe she¡¯d die again. Maybe she¡¯d face many great injustices. Maybe she¡¯d have her heart shattered into a million pieces.

    But at least this moment, she wanted to savor.

    ¡ªAt least for this moment, she was living a fantasy.

 Chapter 8: Si Yo Fuera Como Ellas

    Time passed, and no further words were exchanged. Silence reigned in the room, as Annalise played with her hair.

    Elena continued her relentless assault on the tea table, unconcerned by the silence. What did bother her a touch was the occasional scornful gaze, stemming from Annalise¡¯s round, green eyes. But they lasted a short time, as Annalise would raise her chin and the state of things would return to normal.

    There was a tacit understanding between both women that there was nothing to say, nothing to discuss.

    It¡¯s expected for two women¡ªno, for two people¡ª left in the same room for a long time to spare no second before chattering incessantly. This silence between them, therefore, was a form of communication in itself. There was a meaning to be found in the two of them having run out of words meant for the other.

    Elena knew what her reasons were. She wasn¡¯t one for speaking with strangers. Her mother, for example, could strike up a conversation with anyone she just met on the spot, blabbering endlessly to them like she¡¯d known them her whole life.

    Elena was different. Her words were always delivered with intent. Maybe to ask for something, or to tell a joke. She was unable to simply speak for the sheer pleasure of speaking. If she were to talk to Annalise, it¡¯d be with the intent of trying to know her, but that desire was not present within Elena.

    This left the question of why Annalise had no wish to strike up a conversation¡ªhowever, Elena could presume an answer.

    Earlier, Annalise had referred to her as a commoner.

    Her haughty behavior as well as her expensive accessories and clothes gave away her position as a noble, or something of the sort. A woman born to great wealth and an easy life as a member of the upper class. If this was an Otome game, she¡¯d fit the bill as the typical archetype befitting of a Villainess.

    Despite being disguised with clothes ripped from the Royal Wardrobe, Annalise had correctly assessed Elena¡¯s position in society¡ªor rather, that of the original owner of Elena¡¯s body. As a result, she¡¯d been deemed as someone beneath Annalise, someone not worthy of being spoken to.

    This was probably for the best. To speak with a stuck-up noble would be enough to ignite Elena into a frenzy. She knew a couple of girls like that back in school, lacking in actual noble blood but carrying the attitude nonetheless, and hearing them speak was enough to want to rip their throats.

    People who thought themselves superior just for existing¡ªthose people were the lowest of the low.

    Thus, Elena was grateful for the silence. It was wiser then, to carry on blissfully indulging herself with all the delicious treats laid in front of her. If the lady in front of her were to cast her a judging eye, then it was better to not even bless them with the privilege of bringing her own eyes to her level. She had no time for gazes belonging to snakes, snakes whose poisons she recognized very well.

    Sadly, the silence would not last.

    ¡°Lady Annalise, there you are.¡±

    Opening a door behind her, a trio of girls entered the room and greeted Annalise. They were clad in surprisingly plain dresses, each one of a different primary color and devoid of the intricate patterns Annalise¡¯s had. Their black hairs were all styled similarly, and their facial features differed little, all featuring tiny noses and brown eyes. They all sat next to Annalise, and coldly glared at Elena alongside her, who remained sitting on her lonesome.

    The splendor Annalise gave off only shone brighter when sharing a frame with those three girls. If this were a game, you could tell just from a look that Annalise was an important NPC, while the others were given a standard female model by the devs in order to save money.

    ¡°This is the Marked the Prince is so obsessed with?¡± one of them suddenly asked, pointing at Elena with the subtlety of someone who pretends they¡¯re being discrete, but doesn¡¯t actually want to be.

    ¡°Idiot! You weren¡¯t supposed to say that out loud¡± another reprimanded.

    ¡°I could¡¯ve never guessed from her plump shape¡± the last one added.

    Elena burrowed her frown and gritted her teeth. She didn¡¯t want to start a ruckus, and so let the words pass through her. Even so, she couldn¡¯t hide her annoyance at the mention of her shape¡ªshe was skinnier than she¡¯d ever been, and somehow that was what they were attacking?

    ¡°Girls, please,¡± Annalise cut them off, with a hand gesture resembling that of a conductor of an orchestra. ¡°It¡¯s not her fault she was born being an affront to the Goddess.¡±

    As she finished uttering that last s, laughter arose out of her. Before a second could go by, the other three joined in on the laughter, as if they were actors waiting for the moment to read their lines.

    ¡°OH HO HO HO!¡± was the overwhelming sound that filled the room.

    Any attempt at subtlety had disappeared. The snakes had gotten their fangs out, no longer hiding their murderous intent.

    That was when Elena understood.

    They hated her.

    Same as the silence from before communicated indifference, their behavior communicated hatred. All of their actions were canned, carefully plotted to hurt Elena.

    She didn¡¯t know why¡ªno, she did know why. It was for reasons beyond her control. That was why they hated her. Or rather, why Annalise hated her. The other three, as far as Elena cared, were not human. Despite being made of flesh and bone, they were accessories, no different to the necklaces and chains Annalise had on her body, more doll than women.

    She knew their type. As their mocking laughter drilled her eardrums, recollections of her past life rose to the front of her mind, records of vipers that bit with similar fangs.

    And so, Elena lifted her chin, exceeding in pride, and with a concrete plan of action¡­ simply smiled politely.

    The four women exchanged confused stares between each other, but it did not disturb her. She was resolute in her behavior.

    No matter how much it hurt, the correct path was to pay their words no heed. This was the technique that¡¯d always served her well back in her school days, and it¡¯d no doubt be effective here.

    Bullies, by their very nature, seek to strike at the powerless. But most sweet of all is the prey that lacks the power to fight back, yet possesses the will to do so. For a bully, there was no juicier fruit than a lowly creature, trying with all its might to make a stand yet strengthless to do so.

    The way to minimize pain, thus, was to let the poison of their words that¡¯d entered her body dilute itself with the water from her blood. To simply embrace their scratching edge and face them with a smile on her face.

    After all, a prey that shows no resistance is one that won¡¯t entertain.

    Trust me¡ªI know this from experience.

    ¡°Lady Annalise,¡± a voice suddenly called, full of sound but devoid of emotion. ¡°Forgive my imprudence, I¡¯ll be taking care of the plates.¡±

    Everybody turned to stare at the open door, through which a young maiden of crystalline blue eyes and small stature made her way into the room. The girl known by Number 9 bowed her head, standing next to the chair Elena was sitting on.

    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m the one in need of apologizing,¡± Annalise said, smirking while throwing side glances at the members of her posse. ¡°It seems we got the wrong address. Looks like we stumbled upon the Marked convention.¡±

    Once again, Annalise laughed and the rest joined in on cue, a wave of laughter that was clearly performative in nature, as her joke was not worthy of such a reaction. Elena paid the chortling itself less mind this time, as her mind latched on to something much more important.

    That word¡ªMarked. That was the word they¡¯d now twice used, first to refer to her and now to refer to Number 9. They¡¯d also mentioned something about being an affront to the Goddess.

    Most importantly, it was the same word that bandit had called her the day she arrived on this world. With only the utterance of that word, he¡¯d been able to capture her in plain view of the surrounding crowd. A simple word was all it took to give that man the power to relieve her of her right to freedom, of her right to be human.

    Elena¡¯s mind began to ponder. To ponder a nefarious possibility, one that she hadn¡¯t considered up until this point, in part because it was too dreadful to even consider it.

    The fantastic stories she used to read back on Earth often involved not only humans, but many different races of varying characteristics. Tall elves, short dwarves, or beastmen with fur for skin, among others. However, in darker works, writers would attempt to add a touch of cynicism to the setting by making these races discriminate against each other.

    How well each work executed this depended on the writer¡¯s skill. Elena recalled many a story clumsily employing the power of analogy and arriving at conclusions of questionable nature. But even so, there was a good reason this trope made its way into so many narratives¡ªit was a way of using fantasy to handle complex real-life topics, such as racism and xenophobia, while staying one step removed from the pain caused by the real deal.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    All fine and good, but if it turns out she¡¯d been reborn as a member of an oppressed people¡­ well, she couldn¡¯t tell for sure what that would entail.

    Her eyes filled with doubt and anxiety. Like a dog chasing their tail, Elena began rapidly inspecting all plainly-visible parts of her own body, looking for a hint. She grabbed her ears, attempting to feel out their shape with her fingers; they were round, as expected of a human and unexpected of an elf. She wasn¡¯t particularly short, and she lacked in fur.

    She was a regular human, of that there was no¡­

    ¡°YOU. BEAST IN THE MOLD OF A HUMAN!¡±

    A loud yell broke Elena out of her trance. Her eyes saw a slice of cake, now splattered all over Annalise¡¯s dress.

    ¡°All you pigs know how to do is serve, and you can¡¯t even do it properly.¡±

    For her part, Number 9 gave no reaction to the relentless assault of vile words, instead continuing to collect the empty plates without missing a beat. She turned around to leave, but amidst the loud screaming, a new presence made itself known.

    ¡°Good morning, ladies.¡±

    With a tone that balanced a line between pompous and uncannily serene, Charles announced his arrival to all in the room. He was better groomed this time, his straight hair flowing down to his shoulders, albeit with the occasional rebellious strand of hair that went in its own direction. Bags underlined his eyes and his blinking lasted for a long time. Really, his entire aura just screamed, ¡°I just woke up¡±. Despite this, he was still a handsome young man, his natural beauty shining through despite his best efforts.

    ¡°Oh, Prince Charles, thank you for coming here. This filthy Marked just ruined my favorite dress!¡± Annalise¡¯s vile finger pointed at Number 9. ¡°Driven by her beastlike impulses, she let one of the remaining pastries drop on my fine self.¡±

    Elena hadn¡¯t been paying attention when the cake made contact with the dress, but she needed no proof to cast disbelief at Annalise¡¯s claims. There was no way that girl, who¡¯d barely shown any emotion up to this point, was willing to do let their anger get the best of her.

    ¡°Is this true, Number 9?¡± Charles asked.

    Number 9 gave no response, instead simply casting her gaze at the floor and standing straight.

    ¡°Your Highness, why are you wasting your time asking for that Marked¡¯s opinion? Just dole out the appropriate punishment for her imprudence.¡±

    Before that last word of hers managed to fully leave her putrid mouth, Annalise pierced Elena with her alluring eyes colored gold.

    It was a very calculated look, one that¡¯d been crafted like how a blacksmith crafts a blade. The aim of that look was to invite. To lure Elena into a trap, to bait her into humoring them with the response they¡¯d longed to see.

    Elena clenched her fist over her chest and bit her lip, but that was all she was willing to give. She recognized Annalise¡¯s scheme, and so, she took a deep breath.

    Everyone surrounding her understood her place in society better than she did. Even with the power to cheat death, making a stand at the wrong time, in front of royalty no less, could come with terrible consequences, consequences she couldn¡¯t even fully comprehend herself.

    Because, when death itself was off the table, there was no knowing what a bad ending could mean for her.

    Thus, she remained quiet in her chair, confident in her inaction being the way forward. She decided to let time flow, with her in silence, for any misplaced word was a potential deliverer of a grim fate.

    That was, until she caught sight of a single, falling tear.

    The once emotionless girl, only known as Number 9, was trembling. With a hand blocking a gasp from escaping her mouth, Elena stared intensely at her profile. Her left eye, which Elena once thought carried no will, was the starting point for a watery trail, the leaking tear traveling from her eyelid down to her cheek.

    Her face otherwise bore little difference from before. But like water in a dam, it didn¡¯t matter how well-contained she kept them. Sooner or later, some droplets of her true emotions had to slip through.

    Elena¡¯s heart began thumping loudly. A cold wind washed over her shoulders, a wind that shouldn¡¯t be able to exist inside the warmth of the Palace, but that she, and only she, could nonetheless still feel.

    Her sight began rapidly shifting back-and-forth, between the soft face of the girl holding back her tears, and the devilish ones full of scorn who were responsible.

    Si yo fuera como ellas¡­

    A line from an old musical randomly began playing on Elena¡¯s mind, encapsulating her current state of mind.

    She didn¡¯t have much to be proud of. Not much she¡¯d accomplished, neither here nor in her old world.

    But when taking even a mere glance at the smug, haughty faces of Annalise and her goons, she remembered one crucial thing.

    No matter how much of a failure she was¡­ no matter how she looked, no matter how she spoke¡­.

    There would always remain one aspect of herself she would always wear with pride.

    She wasn¡¯t like them.

    ¡°Your Highness!¡± Elena said, standing up with a loud stomp of her foot. ¡°This girl right here, she hasn¡¯t done anything wrong!¡±

    Elena was uncertain of the veracity of her statement, but she nevertheless fearlessly spoke, looking at Charles dead in the eyes with her back straight and her fist raised.

    ¡°You filthy marked, you dare make a liar out of me?¡± Annalise said in response.

    Stroking his chin, Charles said, ¡°Hmm, if there¡¯s some sort of misunderstanding here, maybe it¡¯s better to let this go.¡±

    Hearing Charles¡¯ words, Annalise¡¯s face became pale like a ghost. With raised eyebrows, she said, ¡°Your Highness, you take this Marked¡¯s words over mine? Over those of your fianc¨¦e¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°M¡ªMy¡­ dear,¡± Charles answered, with hesitation at uttering the word dear, ¡°It¡¯s not like that. I just think it was a simple mistake on our servant¡¯s part.¡±

    ¡°No, Your Highness,¡± Elena interrupted, ¡°it was no mistake. That woman is attempting to frame this poor girl for something she hasn¡¯t done!¡± Elena patted Number 9 on the shoulder, who reacted with a curious stare. ¡°She dropped the cake on herself.¡±

    ¡°Preposterous! You dare accuse me, Annalise Dermak, of being capable of such an act of pettiness? Do you not know of my status as a noble maiden?¡±

    Elena smirked. ¡°You are mistaken. It¡¯s precisely because I know of your so-called status that I know you¡¯re capable of such childish antics.¡±

    Elena had barely come to know Annalise as a person, yet remained steadfast in her accusation. This confidence came from her understanding of women like her. The kind to spread gossip about you behind your back. To look down on those without strength, despite their own power being one they were simply born with.

    Both of their sights clashed like swords in conflict. Annalise¡¯s eyes began losing their fire, put out by the splash Elena¡¯s words had caused within her. Her pupils began scrambling around in a panic, before placing their hopes on Charles, who remained silent with a dumbfounded look on his face.

    Eventually, he¡¯d had enough. ¡°The two of you, halt this nonsense!¡± he said, raising his voice. This¡¯d been the first time he seemed willing to speak using his authority as a prince. ¡°Annalise, please return home. I¡¯ll arrange a carriage for you and your friends.¡±

    ¡°Hmph¡± Annalise crossed her arms, then looked away.

    ¡°As for you¡­¡± He carried on, now looking at Elena.

    Oh, shit.

    His piercing green eyes washed over her body, her face turning sour.

    She¡¯d spoken out of turn, the reverberations of which she¡¯d cast aside in her mind. Whereas before she was fearful of the kind of punishment the young prince could dish out, seeing the distraught face of that beautiful girl had caused her to forget about all that and act rashly.

    Now, those terrible scenarios resurfaced. The reality where she did that which she¡¯d sworn not to do had come greet her.

    Thus, she took a breath deep enough to fill her soul, and awaited Charles¡¯ judgment.

    Charles let out a sigh, then finished speaking. ¡°...you¡¯ll go to town to pick a better-fitting dress. Thales will escort you. Wait for him here.¡±

    ¡°H¡ªhuh?¡±

    Elena was surprised, to say the least, but was certainly not one to complain.

    Annalise joined in on her confusion. ¡°Your Highness, will you seriously allow those two disrespectful Marked to walk away scot-free?

    ¡°Are you questioning my decision, Annalise?¡± he asked, frowning, a threat that was unsaid yet present in his voice.

    ¡°No, of course not, my Lord,¡± Annalise responded, a tinge of fear plaguing her voice.

    ¡°Then, I think it¡¯s time for all of us to make our retreat.¡±

    Charles stepped out of the room, just as quickly as he¡¯d arrived. Annalise and her goons wasted no time following suit, but before leaving Annalise threw one last piercing, scornful glare at Elena.

    Elena, for her part, simply pulled her tongue out.

    It was a crude response, but the only one fitting for the situation.

    Elena was not like them. She was not one to play games with feelings. She had no desire to hide her hatred of their kind under constructed masks. If they asked her, she¡¯d state bluntly that she hated them.

    It was that what differenced the two of them, the rift that existed between their lifestyles.

    A rift she was proud existed.

    Despite the mocking gesture, Annalise swallowed any further nasty words she might want to spit out. She and her trio of evil dolls abandoned the room in quiet, delicate steps, playing up their image of glamorous nobles. Elena and Number 9 were left alone, the tranquility of the room having returned after minutes of arguments.

    ¡°Well, I guess I just gotta sit here and wait for knight-daddy to come pick me up,¡± Elena spoke to herself, forgetful of the fact that she wasn¡¯t alone. Once she remembered Number 9 was standing beside her, her face turned blank. ¡°Uhmm¡­ forget you heard¡ª¡±

    ¡°Cordelia.¡±

    ¡°¡ªthat. Wait, what did you say?¡±

    ¡°Cordelia. My name is¡­ Cordelia.¡±

    It was a sound so faint as to qualify as a whisper. Yet that voice impaled Elena¡¯s ears with force.

    Number 9¡ªno, Cordelia, had spoken aiming her mouth and eyes toward a wall, yet it was clear her words were directed at nobody except for Elena. They were her answer to the question Elena had posed before, to which she at first had no answer to give.

    A warm smile drew itself across Elena¡¯s face. ¡°Cor¡­delia.¡± It was a beautiful name befitting of a beautiful girl. Elena brought her fingers to Cordelia¡¯s shoulder, before trying to give her feelings voice. ¡°What a wonderful name.¡±

    She couldn¡¯t say for sure what factor had allowed Cordelia to say her own name that didn¡¯t exist on their first meeting, but she had a theory¡ª perhaps, it was better to call it a hope.

    ¡ªShe hoped it was her action what had brought that change in this girl.

    Cordelia turned her body and raised her head. Her sight clashed with that of Elena¡¯s. Her deep, blue eyes were devoid of emotion, but proved no less enticing. Elena felt the depth of the sea swallow her as she lost herself within their beauty, the surrounding world vanishing from vision.

    It¡¯d been making her voice heard what¡¯d brought her that reward.

    She didn¡¯t know it at the time. But by making that careless stand in the name of that girl, she¡¯d won the right to indulge in the sight of those eyes.

    But it ran deeper than that.

    By standing up against injustice, she¡¯d taken the first step in a long road toward being herself. The version of her she¡¯d always yearned to be.

    She didn¡¯t know it at the time.

    ¡ªBut it was at that moment, that her story truly began.

 Chapter 9: Magic

    Accompanied by the prince¡¯s most trusted knight, Elena walked the seemingly endless halls that formed the Royal Palace. Once again, the man let out not even a single word, his lips impossible to make move no matter how many curious glances Elena threw his way. He was a stone golem, not a hint of emotion displaying on his face.

    Is this entire workforce made of iron, or something?

    In any case, Elena didn¡¯t want to converse anyway. Nor did she want to pay attention to the walls and ceilings that surrounded her.

    Her heart was living in the past, stuck in the scene of heroism she¡¯d been the protagonist of. Cordelia¡¯s eyes contained the beauty of ice within them, and they had Elena¡¯s whole body frozen, the euphoria of the moment unable to melt away. It was as if a magic spell had been cast on her, one that caused her to relive that scene over and over in her head.

    All that¡¯d happened was she¡¯d learned Cordelia¡¯s name, but even something as simple as that was an achievement to one like Elena, who never accomplished anything. Her heart could not avoid pounding at the possibility of what was to come, of her actions having struck a chord within the heart of such a beautiful girl.

    Sinking ever deeper within the sea of her mind, she wasn¡¯t paying attention to the road ahead of her.

    ¡°My lady!¡± Thales cried out with his left hand stretched out, too late to do anything.

    Elena¡¯s right foot disappeared, and a second left one seemingly took its place, as her sense of balance was shattered by the sudden drop-off. It was the first step in a long stairway that led down to the first floor of a large, central hall. Elena went down it in the clumsiest (and most fitting for her) way possible, blitzing down the stairs as she desperately stomped the ground to regain her balance.

    It was a waste of effort, as her body began inching forward, her face soon to pay a visit to the cold ground¡­

    ¡­instead, her back was kissed by a gust of wind, and her chin landed on the shoulders of a man who was taller in stature, but who stood on a lower step. Her torso was caught by the grip of bony hands, the touch of some sort of metallic object feeling up her abdomen.

    Like it was just another day for him, Thales spoke with a solemn voice. ¡°Prince Charles would be mad if anything were to happen to you. Please be more careful.¡±

    Somehow, Thales had run down the stairs faster than she did and managed to prevent her from face-planting into the hardwood that composed the lower floor. Considering the wind she¡¯d felt earlier couldn¡¯t be natural, it was likely he had abilities not too dissimilar to those that Miles had displayed earlier.

    Elena instinctively wrapped her arms around his body, which were appropriately cold for a man of his age. She pulled back and stood straight, getting a better, more direct look at the knight¡¯s face. He sported a gray, finely-shaved goatee, and his right cheek was adorned with the faint scratch of a battle scar. His eyes looked tired, but his pose was firm, all compounding to the aura of a battle-hardened veteran who still had fuel in the tank.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I was just stuck in my own head, I guess.¡± She bit her tongue once she was done with speaking, sure that an awkward silence was soon to follow. It was an excuse so bad as to not be an excuse at all, despite being in fact the truth.

    ¡°There is no thought so important as to ignore your own safety. Especially one from a precious woman as yourself.¡±

    His words were stern, but drenched in an air of politeness. Elena frowned for a second at the random mention of her gender, but because it was drowned out by a compliment it quickly evaporated within her mind.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, I¡¯ll be more careful from now on.¡±

    A large, wooden door opened behind them, the outside world¡¯s light seeping into the walls of the palace. The hardwood beneath their feet was composed of black and white tiles, their pattern bringing a chess board to mind. Another chandelier hung above their heads, albeit one far larger and more elaborate than the one found in the room of her awakening, each candle held in the hands of figures of naked women that adorned the bowl.

    As her eyes perceived the sun¡¯s light for the first time since waking up, Elena took a second to actually breathe in the situation she was finding herself in. Scratching her head, she stared up at Thales, who gazed dashingly into the distance, mind focused on a goal that stretched beyond the limits of the palace¡¯s walls.

    ¡°Umm, excuse me if this comes across as rude,¡± Elena asked, slurring her words, ¡°but, where exactly are we going?¡±

    ¡°Prince Charles was dissatisfied with your choice of attire,¡± Thales answered, disregarding any sort of subtlety. ¡°He wants his future bride to look as dazzling as possible during the night of the ball, and he¡¯s concluded that no dress currently found within the Royal Wardrobe is up to the task.¡±

    ¡°I see. I guess this dress isn¡¯t THAT fancy in the large scheme of things¡ªwait, did you just say¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ah, it appears Adolf has just arrived.¡±

    Thales ignored Elena¡¯s further questioning, and instead began strolling forward. ¡°Please, follow me.¡±

    Elena didn¡¯t hesitate to walk along, but her mind was still flabbergasted by those words.

    Future Bride.

    At no point had Elena consented to being the holder of that title. She knew barely anything about Prince Charles, and he knew barely anything about her. Plus, that name sounded stupid, bringing bad memories of royalty from her world. And yet, his most trusted knight spoke of her being his bride with the calm one states that the sky is blue.

    Of course, the possibility existed that Charles knew the original owner of her body. But considering the cold reception the staff seemed to give her, that was unlikely. Besides, hadn¡¯t Annalise referred to herself as his fianc¨¦e? What was going on?

    ¡°Good day, Sir Thales. And nice evening to the new and beautiful maiden. May I have your name?¡±

    The man¡¯s question¡ªAdolf¡¯s question, to be precise¡ª shook Elena out of her trance. He wore a fine black suit with a purple tie, and a top hat in his head. He was shorter than Thales, but still stood a head above Elena.

    Realizing she¡¯d remained silent for a tad longer than was comfortable, she apologized, then replied with a warm smile. ¡°Oh, apologies, you startled me for a bit. You may call me Elena. Just Elena.¡±

    Adolf gave a polite smile of his own, then gave his own name. ¡°Pleased to meet you, lady Elena. Perhaps Thales already told you this, but my full name¡¯s Adolf Hitler.¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    Elena¡¯s face, once wearing the warmth of a smile, froze like an icicle at the man¡¯s utterance of his name.

    ¡°E¡ªexcuse me?¡±

    ¡°I understand your confusion, My Lady,¡± Thales chimed in, catching Elena¡¯s bewildered face.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Adolf over here hails from a land outside the Three Big Nations, so I understand his name may sound unusual to your ears.¡±

    Ah yes, clearly. THAT¡¯s why I was worried.

    ¡°Sir Thales is correct. I come from the humble territory of Belngich.¡±

    ¡°Let me guess, you had a neighbor called Goebbels?¡± Elena snarked.

    ¡°Well, yes, how did you know?¡± Adolf asked, intrigued.

    She cast her gaze aside. ¡°Just a hunch,¡± Elena muttered under her breath. She crossed her arms and began inspecting his body and clothes in detail, dreading the possibility of catching wind of any unsightly symbols.

    Of course, the judgment she was currently casting might be a tad unfair. This was a different world, one with a different history and naming conventions. It was perhaps unjust of her to assume the worst of this seemingly innocent man, just because he happened to share a name with the most evil man from her world.

    At the same time, it¡¯s not like her reaction was devoid of logic. She still couldn¡¯t say for sure if this world she¡¯d been transported to was that of a novel, game, or some other kind of fictional tale. Were it so, a man sporting such a name was worthy of the highest levels of suspicion, for even if he wasn¡¯t on the same level of villainy as¡­ well, as Hitler, it was nonetheless a telltale sign from the author that he was not a man to be trusted.

    Plus, top hats like that were tacky, anyway. Can¡¯t trust a man wearing one.

    ¡°By the way,¡± Adolf said, bringing his face near Elena¡¯s and placing his hand to the side of his mouth, ¡°I am aware of the rumors circling about you. Just between you and me, you do not need to worry. You¡¯re welcome inside my carriage.¡±

    Gripping the neckline of her dress, Elena brought voice to a question she may come to regret. ¡°Rumors? About me?¡±

    ¡°You know, about being a Marked. As I said, you don¡¯t need to worry. I will not stand for discrimination!¡± said Hitler.

    Okay, this is getting stupid now.

    But no matter how goofy the source of this information was, there was value to be gained from paying heed to his words. They seemed to confirm at last that the Marked everyone constantly talked about were indeed outcasts of the world. Worst of all, it seemed she belonged to it, meaning she was essentially playing her new life in Hard Mode.

    ¡°Anyway, please accompany me.¡±

    The three of them stepped through the door. A straight road painted gold guided them to the front gate, the vast green of the Royal Gardens surrounding them to the left and right. Adolf, whom Elena internally now preferred to call ¡°Mr. H¡±, rushed ahead of Elena and Thales, stepping through the open gate.

    ¡°Here we are. Please wait inside, my lady.¡±

    He opened the door to his vehicle. It was a machine familiar to Elena, in more ways than one. It resembled a traditional carriage you¡¯d see in a museum, but it lacked the animals required to push it. Instead, from the window she could see a steering wheel for a driver, not unlike a modern car.

    This was the second time Elena had been privy to such a vehicle, and since she was now lucky enough to be able to talk with a driver of one, she wasted no chance to give word to her curiosity.

    ¡°How is this thing powered, exactly?¡±

    Mr. H grinned. ¡°Only the finest Wind Crystals in the entirety of Luzterna! It¡¯s amazing what the Royal Family¡¯s budget can allow!¡±

    ¡°Wind¡­Crystals¡­¡± Elena poked her lips with her fingers.

    ¡°Have you never seen one?¡± Mr. H asked as he tilted his head and furrowed his brow.

    ¡°Umm, no. I was very¡­ umm, very, very sheltered as a kid, yes, so I never got to learn many things.¡± Elena minced her words as she built her lie. Granted, it was true that she was very sheltered in a lot of ways, but that was not the reason for her ignorance.

    ¡°Well, I could show you,¡± said Mr. H, ¡°but I think the Kingdom¡¯s greatest Sword Dancer is a better candidate.¡±

    Mr. H side-eyed at Thales, who stood with his arms crossed, anger brewing on his face. ¡°I do not respond to that title,¡± he said solemnly.

    ¡°Come on, stop being such a killjoy! Give the little miss a fun show.¡±

    ¡°You think I have the time and energy to dance like a monkey for you?¡± Thales said, looking at Mr. H straight in the eyes and with anger in his voice. Elena could not help but raise her eyebrows, at seeing the stone golem show even the most basic emotion.

    ¡°Well, you do have time, that¡¯s for sure. You are the one who insisted on bringing that girl along, so we still have to wait.¡±

    Elena was confused. ¡°Huh? Who¡¯s that girl?¡± Surely, it couldn¡¯t refer to her. After all, she was already there.

    ¡°Ugh, fine, I¡¯ll do it.¡± Thales let out a defeated sigh, his eyes rolling like clothes in a washing machine. ¡°But just know I¡¯m wasting precious Wind Crystals because of your idiotic behavior.¡±

    Mr. H just laughed loudly in response, while patting Thales¡¯ back. ¡°Good thing the King pays for them. Hahaha.¡±

    ¡°Idiot,¡± Thales curtly said.

    Elena meanwhile was blessed by a small grin. It was amusing how quickly the cold robot had turned off the polite module of its programming. It appeared these two had been acquaintances for a long time, and Thales¡¯ knightly attire wore off a tad when in the presence of Mr. H.

    Once the thunderous laughter came to an end, Thales began a slow walk away from his two companions. Knight mode was back on, as each step he took had the firm quality expected of a man of the military. Without turning around to face Elena and Mr. H, a chant began spilling out of his lips.

    ¡°Oh Wind God, you who wash this land with your love. Give my blade the will to become wind.¡±

    His right hand reached for the scabbard hanging by his waist. His fingers kissed his blade¡¯s hilt, and no later than that, a strong gust of wind began to shape the air.

    It¡¯s just like what Miles did back then.

    The nearby bushes and trees began to dance, their leaves struggling to hang by, to not be swept away by that overwhelming force. Thales¡¯ hair too had spiked up, caught in the ensuing hurricane.

    He himself, however, stood resolute, his voice carrying on with his proud song. It was a song devoid of melody, yet its power was no less.

    ¡°Let me dance along with my blade. Let me be and also not be, to feel your love through my blade.¡±

    Thales¡¯ body began to vibrate. The saber left its hiding place and was drawn, carving a path through the air as it sought its destination. He pointed its tip skyward, both his hands gripping desperately onto its hilt. The impression was that had he any less strength, the blade would burst upward like a rocket.

    The winds continued building themselves around Thales. A swarm of many different winds surrounded his body, some cold, some warm. They all came together and used his body as a meeting ground¡ª a melting pot of sorts, where all these disparate winds blended as one under the control of their new master.

    Such was the strength emanating out of the Sword Dancer, a strength only those worthy of wielding the power of the gods could reach.

    ¡°Let me become one with the wind!¡±

    Thales words brought end to his chant. And those words became truth¡ªfor the man truly became one with the wind.

    ¡°What?¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Elena¡¯s eyes hadn¡¯t even blinked, yet their view of Thales, the Sword Dancer, vanished before them.

    The man who was now wind had begun to move. To the eyes of the common man, this was a fact impossible to perceive. Nonetheless, the man blinked out of sight, a floating trail of green energy the only remaining proof of his existence.

    Elena¡¯s skin writhed for a moment, freezing at the taste of the chilling explosion of air Thales had just released. Her knees felt weak, burning with a desire to jump and be swallowed upward, to spring forward into the sky, becoming lost in a sea of clouds.

    Being in close proximity to a Sword Dancer was all it took, for her spirit to begin to wander. To savor for a second the power belonging to the beings who ruled it all.

    ¡°And that¡¯s it.¡±

    With a voice so monotonous as to qualify for sleep-aid, Thales laid his sword to rest. He slotted it into the scabbard completely casually¡ªor at least, as casually as possible for a knight like him. The scattered winds immediately regained their calm, and the shining sun blessed them with its usual heat.

    Like a paused movie, it felt like time had ceased moving. Now, the man who had just been one with the wind stood solidly like stone. His elegance, however, had been tarnished by his adventure as the wind, as his uniform was now decorated by more than just medals. Little green leaves spread themselves across his body, some right by his neck and others all the way down to his trousers.

    None perturbed the man, whose face portrayed nary a smile¡ªand in turn, made the situation far more comical.

    ¡°You hit the head on the trees a bit there, old buddy?¡± said Mr. H, winking his left eye at Elena.

    ¡°Performing the Dance of Wind Union is a task of significant challenge even to those experienced in the art of the Sword, such as myself. Also, I am not your buddy.¡±

    Elena was a bit thrown off by his bitter tone. Apparently, these two were not as close as she¡¯d estimated.

    ¡°Hehe, I suppose you ain¡¯t! But come on, we¡¯ve been working together for so long¡­ I thought we were more than that.¡±

    ¡°Shut your mouth.¡±

    The exchange between them was admittedly amusing, but a more important thought sprung to Elena¡¯s mind. ¡°Umm, by the way, Sir Thales. Can you also use fire?¡± she asked, in a straightforward fashion.

    The startled look Thales gave as a response told her maybe it wasn¡¯t such a straightforward matter at all.

    ¡°This guy? He can¡¯t even light up a kitchen, Hehehehe.¡±

    Rolling his eyes at Mr. H¡¯s joke, Thales turned Knight mode back on and responded to Elena. ¡°Well, I am indeed able to use firearms, if that¡¯s what you mean. But if what you¡¯re asking is if I can perform the Fire Dance of the Sword God, then I am afraid I must disappoint.¡±

    ¡°Most swordfighters are lucky to even master one! Only those truly blessed can become a dancer in more than one element.¡±

    Raising his chin slightly, Thales was now the one to raise a question. ¡°Are you interested in the power of Fire, Lady Elena?¡±

    ¡°I just happened to know a guy who could in fact also shoot fire from his sword, as well as do something similar with the wind, so I thought maybe¡­¡±

    Her saliva began traveling down her neck at record speed, as intense stares hounded her from two directions. Mr. H and Thales reacted with shock at Elena¡¯s casual confession, exchanging communicative glances with one another, accentuated by small nods of the head.

    I put my foot in my mouth, didn¡¯t I?

    ¡°A man able to be one with both wind and fire,¡± broke the silence Mr. H, stroking his white beard. ¡°There is only one man in Luzterna who fits that profile.¡±

    ¡°W¡ªWho?¡± asked Elena, sweat building down her neck.

    ¡°Miles of the Dead Sea Pirates,¡± Thales said, slurring the sound of Miles¡¯ name. ¡°He and his band of ruffians have caused many a ruckus to the Kingdom¡¯s forces.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, the Queen¡¯s lapdog, or so the rumors say,¡± Mr. H added. ¡°A formidable threat in battle, and with the only ship able to sail the Dead Sea, he proves quite the hard rat to catch, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    As they talked between themselves, Elena could sense her pulse begin to leave her. Her thumbs began to ache from how hard she was hunching her fists, and the red of her lips seemed to cower inside her mouth, due to the force with which she was pressing them together.

    The beautiful young man of blue eyes she¡¯d met, the one who¡¯d saved her from a cruel doom. It was he who was now the target of vile words.

    Not unlike earlier at the tearoom, Elena wanted to clap back and shut those disgusting sounds off.

    ¡°...¡±

    But when reminded of the power that man wielded, it was a feeling that left as soon as it came.

    I thiiiiink Miles will forgive me for this one

    Not that he¡¯d even find out about this. In fact, who knows if she¡¯d even get to ever see him again. But she still felt a sense of guilt about her inaction. She wasn¡¯t blind to the resemblance between the scene taking place and the one from before: a bunch of lowlifes blabbering on and on about two people of eyes as pristine as a sparkling sea, who Elena knew were not deserving of such slander.

    Of course, knew was perhaps too strong a word. He didn¡¯t know much of either Miles or Cordelia. Yet she couldn¡¯t help herself from jumping at Cordelia¡¯s defense, caring little for harm or foul. Hence, her hesitation at doing the same for Miles, who if anything she knew a bit better, was a contradiction within her being. Faced with the same itch from before, she could now control her own body, prevent herself from acting in a way that could prove unwise.

    There were several possibilities as to why this could be the case. But there was one reason she chose to believe in above all others, one that brought her an uncanny sense of comfort.

    I guess I really do like girls, after all. Tehee.

    That sly comment to herself came accompanied by a smirk. But under the guise of a cheeky joke hid a cold shovel, with which she could dig at her own buried pains. Hence, that smirk of hers began slowly fizzling out bit by bit, as the arrival of old memories warped it into a frown.

    ¡°Forgive my delay,¡± intruded the voice of a girl. Both Mr. H and Thales turned to look her way, and so did Elena a second later, after crawling out of the hole that was her mind.

    ¡°Cordelia?¡± Elena could not hide her shock, her hand brought to her lips in a goofy manner. ¡°You¡¯re coming with us?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Miss Cordelia is inseparable from Thales.¡±

    ¡°That is correct. I shall be of service to Master Thales,¡± said Cordelia without blinking.

    While displeased with her formal tone, Elena could not disguise her excitement at the prospect of spending more time with Cordelia. Elena began giving little claps of her hands in quick succession, as well as showing her teeth with a gleeful grin.

    ¡°So, let¡¯s waste no more time. Please, get on the back of the Carriage.¡±

    ¡°Is Cordelia also going on the back?¡±

    ¡°Affirmative,¡± Cordelia said.

    Her face lit up, Elena hesitated no further, getting into the vehicle without any more haste. Cordelia sat right next to her, their breaths close enough to mix.

    Once everyone was ready, Mr. H got on the driver¡¯s seat and stepped on where the accelerator would be in a car. As he did, wind began surrounding the vehicle.

    ¡°Now, lady Elena, let me show you the power that the Goddess has blessed us with.¡±

    The Carriage began moving, slower than Thales earlier today but about what you¡¯d expect from a car.

    ¡°Oh, I guess the crystals can also be used to power machines!¡± Elena said, impressed. Through the use of the crystals, it seemed this world had achieved a level of technology not unlike that of her world.

    ¡°Very observant! That was the last gift our beloved Goddess left us with. Machines that allow us normal people to harness the power of Magic.¡±

    ¡°Magic? There¡¯s magic in this wor¡ªerr, in this Country?¡±

    ¡°Only the Marked can make use of Magic, but it is true,¡± Thales explained from the front seat. ¡°After the Battle of the Barrier, casting magic became taboo.¡±

    Thales name-dropped what sounded like an epic battle, piquing Elena¡¯s curiosity but not to the point of inquiring further about it. There was only so far she could push her ¡°fish out of water¡± excuse before crossing the line into absurdity. Besides, her interest in the conversation was waning, as her focus lay outside the windows.

    Unlike before, Elena found herself in the richest area of the city. Hence, the people roaming the streets were clad in elaborate wear, the men wearing suits and top hats while the women walked in colorful yet elaborate dresses.

    The nearby buildings stood out for their bizarre architecture. Many could be identified as luxurious homes, featuring large gardens and several floors of height. Yet they also drew the eye with odd features, such as pairs of uneven windows and ceilings that were smaller than the perimeter of the house they were meant to cover.

    Wouldn¡¯t this cause rain to flood the inside? Elena pondered, befuddled.

    Then again, if rich people here were anything like in her world, odds are that the point of properties such as these was not to serve as a practical living space. Rather, they were meant to bring other wealthy eyes towards the house¡¯s owner, for they served as artistic statements first and housing second. In other words, they were glorified, expensive paintings, a way for their owner to present themselves as an appreciator of the fine arts.

    ¡°Blagh.¡± The disgust Elena felt caused her mouth to rot. She no longer could stand looking at such disgusting opulence. Especially not when such a lovely sight was what met her upon returning her sight to the inside of the carriage.

    Cordelia stared forward, her eyes seemingly devoid of life. Observing her profile, Elena took notice of the girl¡¯s tiny nose and dry lips, as well as the tiny shape of her delicate hands as they rested atop her knees.

    Becoming aware of Elena¡¯s less-than-subtle staring, Cordelia slowly turned her head. In an instant, the blue that filled her eyes changed its meaning. Before, her eyes wore the blue of winter, cold and hollow like a deadly snowstorm. But the second both their eyes met, it was as if the water of life began to flood into her irises, as the void of her pupils grew in size. The left edge of her mouth started to shiver, as if a smile was attempting to form.

    With a swift motion, Cordelia¡¯s head returned to its previous position, and the girl attempted to morph back into her doll-like self. However, cracks began to show in that facade, as her cheeks burned red with embarrassment. One more shy, curious glance was thrown at Elena, who met it with a cheeky grin and a tilt of her head.

    Elena could feel a bond had begun to form between her and the girl. There had been no words exchanged between them, but that was because there was no need for them. Her beating heart was so loud as to make any other sound superfluous. The blood pumped by said heart carried her joy; every vein in her body was bursting with pride, knowing it was she who was the sun to the beautiful blue flower sitting next to her, the reason the flower began to bloom.

    It was perhaps a bit presumptuous of her, but she began to picture a future between the two of them. Where slowly but surely she helped Cordelia break out of her shell, and soon those faint exchanges of stares became exchanges of kisses, and maybe even they could¡­

    So entrenched was she by her daydreaming, that she failed to perceive the touch of a hand gripping the back of her dress. What did break her out of her trance was the figure of the girl beginning to diminish in size.

    Had she done something wrong? Why was the frame of that girl she¡¯d come to adore eluding her all of a sudden?

    At that moment, the entire outside of the carriage came into view.

    ¡°What the¡ª¡±

    Her body collapsed to the ground, before forcibly being raised back up, as the barrel of the same gun-like device from her first day on this world began poking the side of her head.

    Her eyes scrambled in desperation, attempting to make sense of the events transpiring. A large crowd of people had surrounded the carriage, blocking the road with their bodies. The protesters carried picket signs and flags, though Elena could not tell what their message and patterns were. Many of them had tattoos on their faces, others on their arms and legs.

    It appeared it was a protest held by a group of those referred to as the Marked.

    ¡°Dogs of the Royal Family. Surrender yourselves, or the girl¡¯s brain is toast.¡±

    The booming voice making that threat originated from behind Elena. She couldn¡¯t bear witness to their face, but she could see and feel the touch of their hand as it blocked her mouth. It bore long nails and slim fingers, meaning it was likely the hand of a woman.

    Mr. H, Thales, and Cordelia promptly got off the carriage. The three of them stared with concern at Elena, who¡¯d been taken as a hostage.

    ¡°What are your demands,¡± asked Thales, his hand hovering over the handle of his blade.

    ¡°I¡¯d leave your hands where I can see them if I were you, buddy,¡± the woman said, pointing her gun at Thales. ¡°Any wrong move and the lot of you will regret it.¡±

    Thales glared at Elena with a grumble before admitting defeat, letting out a sigh and raising his hands up in the air. His stern glare was one with purpose, one that Elena understood, for her eyebrows raised in response. It was an anger born of the realization that were Elena not there, a man of his skill and strength would be able to easily combat the threat posed by these protesters. Instead, her being used as a human shield meant he had no choice but to comply with the woman¡¯s demands.

    ¡°Very good. Now you two¡ª¡± she pointed at Mr. H and Cordelia¡ª ¡°follow along.¡±

    Mr. H wasted no time obeying her orders, shivering in place as his arms reached for the sky. Cordelia, meanwhile, was slower, her body motions drenched in hesitation. Her eyes did not grace the woman with their presence, instead their focus relegated exclusively to Elena.

    Once again, both their eyes met.

    She couldn¡¯t bear it.

    The pride once filling her body had vanished. She could not allow herself to host any pride, when she¡¯d committed such a sin. The sin of tarnishing the beauty of those eyes, filling them with worry and anxiety.

    In an attempt to regain her pride, her body began to resist. She tried fighting against her captor, shaking her body and throwing a reverse headbutt.

    ¡°You little¡ª¡±

    A mighty punch made impact with Elena¡¯s right cheek, drops of blood flying as her body fell to the ground. A boot stomped on her back, as that croaky voice penetrated her eardrums.

    ¡°You have guts, little girl. I respect that.¡± As she finished saying that, the woman raised her foot, then crashed the weight of her boot onto the back of Elena¡¯s head. ¡°But you are also incredibly stupid, as to be expected of noble trash.¡±

    ¡°Elena!¡± Cordelia cried out, distraught.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I don¡¯t plan on hurting her,¡± the woman reassured. ¡°It¡¯s you lot I want gone.¡±

    Elena¡¯s eyes could barely see above the ground. Her thoughts were scrambled by the pain of having her brain stepped on. Her breathing had fastened, her legs could do no more than flail without a point, and her body had been denied of motion.

    Despite this, she had one last ace up her sleeve. A power only she could wield, which she wasn¡¯t even sure she did in fact have, but on which she was willing to gamble everything.

    There remained one part of her body that was free to move. With her hands, she began to pound at the foot of the woman standing on top of her.

    ¡°Hahahaha,¡± laughed the woman. ¡°Are you really that willing to die?¡±

    There was no intent on Elena¡¯s part in actually harming her. Elena¡¯s sole intent was to serve as a distraction, a ploy to bring the woman¡¯s attention onto herself. Even if this resulted in the loss of her life, thanks to her power it¡¯d be a more than worthwhile sacrifice, so long as it guaranteed Cordelia¡¯s safety.

    The woman pointed her gun downward at Elena. ¡°Well, if the noble worm is so desperate to die, then I¡¯ll be happy to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Llenar tierra de l¨¢grimas!¡±

    ¡°What!¡±

    The woman was interrupted by an unexpected chant. Elena was also caught off-guard by hearing random Spanish used in this world; but perhaps what shocked her most was whose voice had been responsible for uttering those words.

    ¡°You traitorous scum!¡± The woman stepped off Elena¡¯s body, and began walking toward Cordelia. ¡°How dare you cast magic against your own people!¡±

    Elena now had the strength to look upward. The gun¡¯s barrel was aimed at Cordelia, whose arm tattoo was glowing, a blue aura stemming from it. Without missing a beat, the woman pulled the trigger and a fireball began to form, before propelling itself forward toward Cordelia.

    ¡°N¡ªNooo.¡± Elena could do nothing but watch helplessly.

    ¡°As if!¡±

    A wind blew, and the projectile made of flame was cleaved in two, each half spiraling through the air before striking the floor. Thales had reacted to the woman¡¯s shot, and blocked the attack by cutting through it with his sword.

    ¡°Tsk. Everybody, retreat! We don¡¯t know what that spell¡ª¡±

    She couldn¡¯t finish her alarming order, as her body stood motionless, her mouth wide-open.

    A stream of water began pouring from the sky toward the earth, essentially turning the street into a river.

    The stream shoved all that lay in its path; the protestors, the carriage, the streetlights. Living or inanimate, the current didn¡¯t care in the slightest. They were all whisked away by that unstoppable force. The woman dropped her weapon and began attempting to run away; it¡¯d soon prove fruitless, for it was inevitable for the water to catch up and whisk her away.

    ¡°Elena!¡±

    Before Elena, who remained laying on the floor, could make sense of what was going on, Cordelia leapt toward her.

    The two of them shared an improvised hug. Elena pulled Cordelia into her embrace, wrapping that skinny body with her arms.

    Time froze. The walls surrounding her vanished. As she felt Cordelia¡¯s body weigh on her, all she knew was she couldn¡¯t let go of her.

    She couldn¡¯t allow for that frail body to be harmed. Whatever happened, she wanted to protect her, to hold on tight to her, no matter who or what got in their way

    She couldn¡¯t bear with tragedy befalling such a beautiful girl.

    She couldn¡¯t bear going through that again.

    Elena held on to Cordelia¡¯s body as hard as she could, as the flowing water washed them both away.

    ¡ª

    Was this death?

    Who knows. It didn¡¯t matter.

    All that mattered was that she wasn¡¯t with her right now.

    The body of that girl, so fragile yet pleasing to the touch. She couldn¡¯t feel that girl¡¯s skin caress hers.

    That was a feeling worse than death. Worse than any circle of hell.

    If she could change that, then it would be worthwhile to wake up. To return to this cursed world filled with suffering. If it was for a chance to hold her hand and kiss her lips, she¡¯d be willing to face it all.

    Hence, she had no choice but to open her eyes.

    ¡ª

    ¡°You¡¯re finally awake.¡±

    The image of the world drew itself before Elena. A ceiling carved with drawings of some sort of woman was what first met her. Soon, her eyes would begin inspecting what lay to her left, and she¡¯d see some sort of altar. Then to her right, a large wooden door, with a red carpet adorning the floor.

    ¡°Waaaaake up!¡±

    With a raucous shrill, the woman speaking at Elena hurled a bucket of cold water at her. As in, the wooden bucket struck Elena¡¯s nose, and then the water spilled all over her.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Elena asked, as she quickly got on her feet, her whole body now soaked.

    ¡°Well, you see, I wanted to wake you up, so I filled a bucket with water. But since I knew it was water what¡¯d made you pass out in the first place, I thought that¡¯d only make things worse. So I decided to hit you with the bucket itself instead!¡±

    It was flawed logic, but it could be said to be logic. Well, if you ignore that physics make it unlikely for the water to not spill out, that is.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m awake. You happy? And who are you any¡ª¡±

    Her sentence was cut short by her own memory.

    The woman ran her hand through her long, blond hair. ¡°Well, it seems my identity remains a secret to you. Let me introdu¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your name was¡­ Luc¨ªa!¡±

    That strange lady she¡¯d met on her first day in this world¡ªthey had once again come face-to-face.

 Chapter 10: The Aura of Death

    ¡°Your name was¡­ Luc¨ªa!¡±

    Never could she forget that name. Not when that mesmerizing face of sharp golden eyes was irrevocably linked with her moment of arrival into this world.

    ¡°Indeed¡­ you are correct.¡± The woman of angelic blond hair closed her eyes, crossed her arms, and began tapping her left foot. ¡°I can¡¯t recall telling you my name, however¡±

    ¡°But you did. In fact, you kinda blurted it out back then¡­¡±

    As she said that, Elena inspected her surroundings. A tall ceiling stood above her, carved with the figure of a blonde woman wearing a long, white dress. Pillars connected the ceiling with the floor; some were painted yellow like gold, others gray like silver. Behind Luc¨ªa¡¯s head, a staircase led to an altar. There were two lit candles on top of the table, one on each side. On the wall behind it hung a sword, much like a cross would on a Christian church, one with a hilt made of gold and adorned with small jewels of many colors.

    ¡°Where are we? Is this some kind of chapel?¡± The building lacked pews for people to sit, but otherwise it fit the look to a tee.

    ¡°You tell me.¡± Luc¨ªa shrugged her shoulders. ¡°I only found you here.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    ¡°I indeed am. It was quite amusing, actually. You were writhing violently on the ground, shouting incoherently about some girl, while hanging desperately to life.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see what¡¯s so funny about that¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just that your image betrayed my expectations,¡± Luc¨ªa said, placing her hand on her chest. ¡°Usually when I spot my target, I expect to find someone who¡¯s given up on their life. Instead, I found an unprecedented strength. An unrelenting will to cling to this world of mortals.¡± She pointed to Elena¡¯s dress, which was the same one Elena chose back in the palace, albeit tarnished due to the sudden flood. ¡°All while looking absolutely glamorous, if I may add.¡±

    Luc¨ªa spoke grandiosely, accompanying her words with exaggerated hand motions. Yet her tone overall was too casual for the weight her words carried. Elena could not help but be taken aback. What did she mean by ¡°spot my target¡±?

    ¡°Were you¡­ looking for me?¡±

    Luc¨ªa wasted no time in answering. ¡°In a sense. But it would be more accurate to say it is your aura what called for my attention.¡±

    Elena¡¯s answered question had only led her to more questions. ¡°My¡­ aura?¡±

    ¡°Indeed!¡± Luc¨ªa clapped her fingers. ¡°The Aura of Death you wear is the natural enemy of the likes of me, a humble follower of the Light of Justice!¡±

    The Aura of Death¡­

    What it referred to, she couldn¡¯t say for sure, but were she to hazard a guess, Elena would bet she was referring to her ability to return from the death.

    A shiver began to wrap Elena¡¯s body. A memory crashed into her back in the form of wind, drenching her mind with fear.

    She remembered the numbing touch of the void. The endless pit of darkness that death was. Just thinking about it was enough for her neck to feel as if it was being strangled. Her skin turned pale and her eyes lost their luster.

    She had so far not tried to think about it, much like we don¡¯t think about what happens when we sleep. But nothing could change the fact that she knew death. She¡¯d seen what secrets it held, what lay on its shores.

    Yet, it was impossible for her simple human mind to truly grasp the overwhelming depths of the valley was death. The brain was designed for life; it held no ability to conceptualize what it meant to not live. All she could paint was a fuzzy picture, for death still held mysteries even to her, a unique existence unlike all others, blessed with the privilege of having met death and lived to tell the tale.

    ¡°But you don¡¯t have to worry!¡± Luc¨ªa waved her arms, noticing Elena¡¯s discomfort. ¡°I mean you no harm. My intention is to rid the likes of you of that Aura. The Light of Justice points me toward the direction of poor souls like yourself, who reek of the cursed smell of death.¡±

    Elena tilted her head. ¡°So, you want to get rid of my power?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean by power, but indeed! I intend to fight back against the

    grip the Dark King holds over your soul!¡± Luc¨ªa pointed at Elena. ¡°To release you from the cold hand of death.¡±

    Elena tilted her head. ¡°Hand? I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re being figurative, here?¡± Her question was accompanied by a nervous laugh. She shuddered at the thought of having to face some sort of hand-monster. Playing The Legend of Zelda had given her enough trauma in that regard.

    Luc¨ªa waved her finger. ¡°Indeed¡­ NOT! Just because it is only my valiant self who can see it, doesn¡¯t mean that the hand of death isn¡¯t real. When lost souls like yourself fall into despair, they fall powerless before the cold fingers of the Dark King.¡±

    ¡°So, I¡¯m a ¡®lost soul¡¯, then? Whatever that means¡­¡±

    ¡°Indeed! Although¡­¡± Luc¨ªa began scratching her chin. ¡°You really do seem oddly upbeat for one with a soul as tainted as yours. I wonder if¡­¡±

    Her eyes began to carefully scour every visible spot of Elena¡¯s skin, from her exposed arms to her slender legs. She even took a peek under Elena¡¯s dress, much to her complaint.

    ¡°Hey, cut that out, pervert!¡± Elena grimaced as she blushed

    Luc¨ªa ignored her and kept looking. Eventually, she inspected Elena¡¯s back, right underneath her neck, and her face lit up.

    ¡°I knew it. You carry the Mark of the Raven.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Confusion painted Elena¡¯s face, but it was a confusion quickly cleaned out by her previous knowledge.

    ¡°That mark¡­ does that make me one of those ¡®marked¡¯ those people speak of?¡±

    Elena raised a question she already suspected the answer to. She only wanted confirmation, from someone like Luc¨ªa, who seemed to know all the secrets there was to know in this world.

    ¡°Not just any marked, but a wearer of the Mark of Darkness,¡± Luc¨ªa replied, ¡°The most despised marked of them all! Kicked from the mainland even in Eternasia, looked down upon by even other marked.¡±

    Luc¨ªa spoke completely matter-of-fact, but the horror that information carved on Elena¡¯s face was palpable.

    She was in a world where she expected to live out a fantasy. To be able to escape the injustices of her own flawed world, where the course of your life was determined more by the circumstances of your birth than any aspect of your self.

    Even she, who was relatively treated well by it, felt nothing but disdain for her world. Knowing she¡¯d left such a shameful place was the one thing that had so far kept her going. Had her world not been as putrid as it was, homesickness would have long since begun to plague her. She¡¯d start missing the touch of her mother, the warmth of her room, the pleasant sounds of the bands she used to idolize.

    So to now know for sure that not only was this new world no different, but that she might be at the bottom of the ladder¡­

    Her mind shut down, her body becoming a statue.

    Mom¡­

    That was the only thought she could muster. The image of her mother, that woman she once took for granted, now drew itself in the front layer of her mind, acting as a reminder of the safety net she now lacked, of the arms she could never return to.

    Why¡­ why did I do that¡­

    Noticing Elena¡¯s distraught look, Luc¨ªa attempted to console her. She tenderly grabbed Elena¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°But hey, don¡¯t worry! I am not going to harm you! I am a marked myself, in fact!¡± Luc¨ªa took a step back, then continued. ¡°Here, take a look.¡±

    She gripped her pants right underneath her waist, and began pulling it down, leaving her thighs and underwear exposed to the naked eye.

    ¡°Wowowow, relax, I believe you!¡± Elena covered her eyes, caught off-guard by the sudden exhibitionism. She did leave enough of a gap between her fingers through which to sneak a peek. Much as we wished to lust over Luc¨ªa¡¯s long, slender legs, what she needed to focus on was the secret her skin hid.

    Carved on her right leg was a birthmark, golden in color. It was hard to make out, but it appeared to be the figure of a woman. She had 8 arms; at first glance, it appeared each stretched out in a cardinal direction, however there was no arm stretched out to what would be the north; instead, there was one extra arm stretched toward the south-west. The marking featured detailed eyes and a detailed nose, but no visible mouth.

    On second thought, it resembled the woman whose image adorned the ceiling. In fact, odds are they were one and the same.

    Luc¨ªa fixed her pants back up. ¡°So indeed, you can place your faith on this humble¡­ baaaaaard.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Elena asked.

    At a moment¡¯s notice, Luc¨ªa¡¯s gaze lost any semblance of a fixation. The focus of her eyes suddenly became the ceiling, then the floor, then the walls. The palm of her hand came to softly kiss her own forehead, and her torso and legs began to shake wildly.

    ¡°The Light of Justice¡­ is drawing¡­ my way forward.¡±

    Those same eyes that before were in a frenzy now slowly closed, and the shaking of her body came to an abrupt halt. As she froze like an ice statue, Elena couldn¡¯t help but savor the delicacy of her fine eyelashes.

    ¡°Let¡¯s Go!¡± Luc¨ªa shouted with no indoor voice. Her eyes opened wide and her fists kissed her hips. She stared and pointed at the large, wooden door behind Elena, then began moving her feet rapidly.

    ¡°What? W¡ªwait, don¡¯t leave me here!¡± cried Elena, as Luc¨ªa dashed right by her. She had no idea where she was, and being left alone in this world was likely a death sentence.

    Luc¨ªa stopped by the door, and without turning around to face Elena, said, ¡°Well in that case, why don¡¯t you join me in my little quest to vanquish despair? HIYAAH.¡±

    The bottom of Luc¨ªa¡¯s foot struck the doorframe of three times her height. It was a double door, each side engraved with a depiction of a woman carrying some sort of crystal, both carvings a mirror of one another. Said crystal lit up all of a sudden, and soon afterward the door opened on its own.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Did you do that?¡±

    ¡°It was the Light of Justice. Now come on!¡± Luc¨ªa rushed back to Elena and grabbed the latter¡¯s hand. ¡°There is not a lot of time.¡±

    ¡°Wait, where exactly are we¡ªgaaaah.¡±

    And so, hand in hand, the two Marked left the strange chapel by way of sprint.

    ¡ª

    ¡°Slow¡­ down¡­¡±

    As the weird woman pulled her along like a horse pulls a cart, Elena¡¯s lungs started to cry out in pain, a burning sensation making its home on her chest. She wasn¡¯t much of an athlete in her past life, and her new body appeared to make little difference.

    ¡°We can¡¯t¡­ any second longer and that person¡­¡± The usually plucky Luc¨ªa spoke with an unusual tongue soaked with grit. Elena couldn¡¯t see her face, but she swiped the sweat off her forehead as she continued her relentless charge forward.

    While her speed was nothing compared to that of a Sword Dancer, she still dashed across the streets of the city at a velocity impossible for your average woman to reach. Elena¡¯s head bobbed up and down, her attention divided between the desire to observe her surroundings and the need to watch her step.

    Not that there was much to gain in doing the former, anyway. It was nighttime, meaning it was far too dark to easily make out much in the way of architecture. There were next to no people wandering the streets, nor were there any vehicles to take note of. It was only when they approached the occasional streetlamp that a clearer picture of the environment drew itself; compared to the more obviously medieval buildings she¡¯d seen earlier, the faint few houses seemed more modern, featuring walls of concrete and clearly built with simplicity and minimalism as a priority.

    Then again, she wasn¡¯t able to carefully inspect them. Right now, her priority was to not trip and fall over.

    Which of course, happened anyway.

    ¡°Shit!¡± Elena yelled as her body plunged head-first to the ground, paddling the air with her arms. Unfortunately for her, Luc¨ªa ignored her cries, refusing to slow down.

    Elena therefore was dragged across the city roads face-down, earth filling her mouth and muddying the beauty of her face as well as any remaining glamour of her dress.

    Fuck my life.

    ¡°Here we are!¡± Luc¨ªa suddenly exclaimed. She released her grip on Elena¡¯s arm, and ventured forward on her own.

    Elena, for her part, took a second to rest her body, as she remained prone for a couple of seconds. Eventually, she planted her hands and pushed her body upward.

    What greeted her eyes was a new picture for her, yet one that sent a chill down her spine due to its uncanny familiarity. She was standing on top of a bridge, overlooking a river of crystal blue water. It floated at sufficient height for a fall to prove lethal.

    A puff of wing breath at her neck, suffocating even her spirit. The hem of her dress danced alongside the wind, flowing delicately. Her hand pressed against her own chest, as if to ensure her heart remained in function.

    She recognized what was sweeping at her soul. It wasn¡¯t the wind itself, but rather the memory the wind carried within its grasp.

    ¡°Stop!¡±

    A booming roar shook the air, bringing Elena back down to Earth. She turned her head to the left and was witness to Luc¨ªa, who found herself wrestling with another girl. Her body under Luc¨ªa¡¯s grip, the girl was skinny, had long red hair, and had short legs that kicked the air as an act of defiance. She was clad in a black dress with red slippers, and the sleeves were short enough to reveal her arms.

    ¡°Let go of me! I just¡­¡±

    The girl pleaded for Luc¨ªa to free her from her grasp. But Luc¨ªa did not relent, holding the girl with ever-more increasing strength. The girl struck back, trying to break free by kicking at Luc¨ªa¡¯s legs with the heel of her foot.

    ¡°Impossible. Nobody will die under¡­¡± Luc¨ªa¡¯s words were briefly frozen, as she felt the impact of the girl¡¯s strike. However, the strength of the blow was that which was expected out of a fourteen-year-old, so she brushed it off and continued talking ¡°...under my watch!¡±

    Elena ran toward the two of them with her leg¡¯s remaining strength, and, as she watched the scene unfold, asked, ¡°Luc¨ªa, what¡¯s going on?¡±

    The young girl gazed at the approaching Elena, and knowing she was outnumbered, halted her struggle and calmed herself down.

    Luc¨ªa meanwhile looked bizarrely gaily, smiling as she gave a thumbs-up. ¡°A job well-done, if I would say so myself. Through the power of the Light of Justice, I have brought salvation to yet another soul preyed upon by the hands of death!¡±

    There she spoke again of those so-called hands of death. There had been no appearance of a Hand-monster of any kind, yet Luc¨¬a still spoke her words with conviction. Elena stared at Luc¨¬a for a second, in complete befuddlement. Her focus then darted toward the young girl, who was sitting on the ground with crossed arms. The girl¡¯s cheeks were drenched with tears, and her arms were filled with scratches colored like rubies. Her eyes were so devoid of soul they threatened to pull those who stared at them for too long into a white void.

    Elena bent her knees and extended her arm. ¡°Is everything OK?¡± She attempted to run her hand through the girl¡¯s hair, but an attempt would be all it¡¯d be.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡±

    The girl slapped Elena¡¯s hand away. It wasn¡¯t painful in the slightest; what was, however, was the duel of gazes Elena and the girl were now having. Whereas before those eyes were devoid of anything, now wrath was brewing within them.

    ¡°You¡­ruined my death!¡±

    ¡°Ruined?¡± Elena¡¯s fingers kissed her chin.

    ¡°I just¡­ can¡¯t go on living anymore¡­ without him¡­ so why did you two imbeciles¡­¡±

    Her mouth continued providing further sound to that ire, endless profanities flowing out of it. She hurled curses at Elena and Luc¨¬a, for daring to stand between her and the death she yearned for. What the contents of those words were, Elena did not know, as their meaning had become lost by the time they entered Elena¡¯s ears.

    Her mind was too focused on the girl¡¯s glare, which was sharp enough to pierce Elena¡¯s skin¡­

    No. That would be an inaccurate assessment of the situation.

    The girl¡¯s eyes served as a mirror. Reflected in them, was Elena¡¯s face, a face that wasn¡¯t hers, but rather she was just borrowing, one blooming with a beauty she never could¡¯ve hoped for. It was that image then, what trapped her attention, as she stared at her own curious gaze.

    That her face wasn¡¯t hers was a blessing in this scenario. If she had to see that old, putrid figure, while simultaneously being assaulted by obscene, hateful words, then she wasn¡¯t sure if she could even¡ª

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    A whisper leaked out of Elena¡¯s dry lips. Her voice lacked power, and thus the girl continued her rant.

    ¡°...don¡¯t you get it? I just want to die. What do you idiots gain by¡­¡±

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡±

    Elena¡¯s yell slashed through the veil of anger the girl was covering herself in, her eyes turning anxious while her mouth opened wide. This was due to the transformation Elena¡¯s body language had taken; her brows were furrowed, her fist was clenched, and her legs were stiff.

    Elena grabbed the girl¡¯s arm in a hush, bringing it closer to her eyes. She inspected the scratches it hid. They were the work of a knife, albeit with not too deep of a stab as for blood to leak out.

    As she held that arm, Elena stared deeply at the girl¡¯s face. ¡°Repeat,¡± she said with her voice turning taut, ¡°why do you claim to want to die?¡±

    The girl drew her eyes away, likely suffocated by the fire of Elena gaze. She gritted her teeth, but through the gaps between said teeth a response to Elena¡¯s question came out. ¡°My boyfriend cheated on me¡­ called me horrible things¡­¡±

    It was now Elena¡¯s turn to be filled with ire. She tightened her grip on the girl¡¯s arm, and her stare grew in intensity.

    ¡°I just want to die¡­¡±

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡±

    The girl had repeated those words, and Elena thus repeated her answer to those words. This time, Elena would challenge the girl¡¯s supposed death wish even further, as she then added, ¡°What do you know about death?¡±

    The girl flinched back at the cutting edge of Elena¡¯s question.

    ¡°Do you think death is an escape? A solution to every one of your little problems? Do you not care about your family, your friends, who will no doubt grieve you?¡±

    Elena hurled those questions with reckless abandon, unconcerned by the distraught that was increasingly building across the girl¡¯s face. She was speaking from a position of authority, for not only was she older but had also experienced death itself.

    ¡°I¡­I¡­I¡­¡± was all that the girl, confronted for the first time with what the reality of death truly entailed, could manage to mutter as a response.

    ¡°Of course¡­¡± Elena wickedly grinned at the girl¡¯s speechlessness. ¡°You are nothing more than a stupid little girl,¡± she uttered under her breath.

    Under the judging eyes of Elena, a unique existence who carried knew death, this girl was no more than naive and ignorant. How dare she think she was worthy of throwing her life away, just because of some mere relationship problems? Did she not consider all of which she¡¯d be leaving behind? Did she not think of all the places she knew, she¡¯d never get to see again? Did she not think of her mother, whom she¡¯d abandon senselessly?

    For Elena, such a being was not deserving of her pity, not deserving of the grief victims of suicide get. That was the reasoning for the heat that fueled her eyes, with which she sternly engulfed the girl, hoping to forge the meaning of her wrath into the girl¡¯s skin.

    ¡°Mar¨ªa, that¡¯s enough.¡±

    That name. A name only uttered by her mother.

    Its sound washed Elena¡¯s body like a bucket of cold water. Her eyes began to blink in rapid succession, as if reality was redrawing itself before her. She felt the warm touch of a hand on her left shoulder. She cast her gaze upward, as she looked for the owner of that touch.

    It was Luc¨ªa, of course, who remained standing. Back during their first meeting, Elena had given her full name, Mar¨ªa Elena, but despite her stated preference for her second name, Lucia had clung to her first.

    ¡°Look at this poor girl,¡± Luc¨ªa continued, ¡°You¡¯re tearing her tiny heart apart.¡±

    Slowly, out of hesitation, Elena turned back her head toward the direction of the girl, seeing first-hand the result of her handiwork.

    The girl was fully bawling, her hands shaking rapidly. Her voice had turned into an incomprehensible shriek, and it was clear she was hyperventilating. Finally, her long nails were digging into the skin of her knees.

    Elena¡¯s eyes, once fueled by fire, turned sour. A freezing wind bit the nape of her neck, and her heart pounded in her chest so rapidly it was clear it yearned to escape.

    Why did I say such awful things?

    The girl weeping in front of her was a mere teenager. Could she really be so lacking in compassion as to not feel for a young maiden who lost their first love? Was she so cold, as to judge someone¡¯s reasoning for taking their own life?

    Besides, who was she really, to speak so confidently about death? Just because she¡¯d seen face-to-face with death before, didn¡¯t mean she was a worthy arbiter to decide who was worthy of dying and who wasn¡¯t. Especially when she herself¡­

    ¡°...¡±

    The answers to all those questions were complicated, so much so her brain wanted to shut down. But unfortunately for her, she couldn¡¯t stop thinking, and in doing so, she realized the truth.

    Those words of anger she¡¯d lobbed at the girl had their target wrong. Elena, who considered herself a caring person, could never hurl undeserved abuse at someone else.

    Therefore, the real target of her hatred was¡­

    One last time, Elena stared into the eyes of the girl. There, she saw the reflection of a beautiful, thin woman, with brown hair and perfect skin.

    Now, that reflection began to morph. That skin became corrupted with spots of acne, and her torso began to grow in width.

    Elena¡¯s throat ached, for the reflection began to show the source of her anger.

    That old, putrid body she wished to leave behind and never see again.

    ¡°No¡­ nonononononono!¡±

    Like birds, a storm of thoughts flew toward Elena from all directions and pecked at her skull, too many for all of them to be processed. She began pulling her own hair, attempting to shut them all down. It proved futile, for she was a slave to the darkness of her own mind. She quickly got up, turned back the way they came, and began to dart out of there.

    ¡°Mar¨ªa, wait!¡± Luc¨ªa cried out, but it was too late. Elena had left the scene, and while she probably could catch up to her, she couldn¡¯t leave the young girl alone.

    ¡ª

    Stupid¡­stupid little girl¡­

    Elena continued to run. She ran and ran across the bridge, no destination in mind and the above as her only thought. So long as she escaped that cursed place that¡¯d brought her so many bad memories, she had no doubt she¡¯d feel better.

    Her run was as brisk as she could manage, despite there being no reason for it to be so. She wasn¡¯t being chased, and even if she was, no way could she outrun Luc¨ªa.

    In reality, it was her past what she wished to escape, despite the understood impossibility of doing so.

    It was because her past had no physical shape, then, that her sprint was aimless. A simple charge forward, indifferent to direction or course.

    And because of that, she was not paying attention to her road forward.

    And because of that, she was in for a shock when she bumped into a person at full speed.

    ¡°GAH!¡± Her body was shoved backward because of the resulting force of the collision. However, before her back could crash into the ground, her downward momentum was stopped by a pair of burly, masculine hands.

    Elena performed a long blink, and when her eyes opened again, she was transported into the sun, as she was absorbed into the golden abyss that was the man¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Are¡­ are you ok?¡±

    ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­ Miles!¡±

    The man she thought twice she¡¯d never get to see again. Who she thought death had split her apart from on two separate occasions. That same man was now who was holding up her body, a miraculous meeting only the night stars were witness to.

 Chapter 11: Tug of War

    ¡°How, why, I don¡¯t even know¡­¡±

    With those scattered words, Miles voiced his disbelief at the unreal situation. At the intertwined gazes that he feared would never again cross.

    Miles and Elena, against all odds, had run into each other again, atop a random bridge in the giant city of Catella, the mightiest of all in the Kingdom of Luzterna. Miles¡¯ hands held her back, preventing her fall, his own torso having followed the arc of her descent.

    They both shared a moment of frozen time, their breaths intermingling and both their bodies leaning forward. Miles¡¯ beauty overwhelmed her view of the sky; his hair was blown by a sudden gush of wind, covering any sight of the blue above. The warm comfort of his fingers washed away the uncertainty that Elena had been living these days, the gold of his eyes providing light in a dark sea of incertitude.

    Elena¡¯s look of shock slowly morphed into one of relief, her mouth widening with the warmth of a smile.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± she asked the handsome man, as the hypnosis induced by his sun-colored eyes wore off, and she regained proper footing.

    ¡°I should be the one making that question. I thought you were dead¡­¡± The strength of Miles¡¯ voice slowly started to dwindle. ¡°I thought I¡¯d never see you again.¡±

    Miles caressed his own shoulder and cast his gaze downward. It felt as if melancholy rained out of his tired eyes, a cascade of emotion that eroded even the way he spoke, his words sounding feeble, as if his throat was about to break from uttering them. Elena, at first, was taken aback by being the source of such an anguish, an indication of the depth with which she¡¯d touched the young man¡¯s heart.

    A second later, she instead began tapping her right foot with excitement, shattering the mood the cold night sky had generated a moment before.

    ¡°Aww, did you really miss me that much?¡± she teased, her index finger on her bottom lip.

    ¡° H¡ªHuh? I mean¡± ¡ªhe began stammering, while his cheeks took the color of roses¡ª¡±I¡­ it¡¯s not that I was wishing every night to see you again, or something like that.¡± He paused and scratched his head. He raised his view and was met by the playful eyes of Elena, who pretended to be hurt by placing her heart on her chest, as if suffering a heartache. ¡°Ok fine! I did miss you, okay?¡±

    He crossed his arms and pursed his lips, as a slice of his heart was released into the world for Elena to see. For her part, Elena just chortled. There were few things she found more adorable than a man in a tug-of-war with his own emotions.

    ¡°By the way, where is your crew?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re at Bronson¡¯s place. His family owns a tavern, and we tend to go drinking when we¡¯re in the city. I just¡­ felt like taking a walk.¡± Strangely, Miles let doubt be inserted into that straightforward statement, gulping between each sentence. He looked upward, as if searching the stars for guidance. Was there some deeper meaning to his nocturne stroll?

    ¡°So you guys are just hanging out? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be wanted criminals, or something?¡±

    Inadvertently, Elena¡¯s casual remark seemed to hurt Miles a surprising amount, as he furrowed his brows. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t consider myself a criminal, for that requires me to be in the wrong. But to answer your question, it is a secret place, one the Knights will never find out about. Where those who live within the outskirts of the law can dance and enjoy themselves.¡±

    ¡°Dance, you say?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Nothing professional, of course, nor is it an art of war like my Sword Dancing. The tavern has a dance floor in which¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see. Mind if I join you, then?¡° Elena asked abruptly, winking. Devious plans were forming inside her head, so her mouth rushed into speaking before Miles could finish his sentence.

    Miles was at first a bit startled by the bluntness of her voice. He regained his composure quickly, then answered, ¡°Of course.¡± He stared directly at Elena¡¯s eyes, and raised his fist. ¡°Looking for you is why I came here after all. I¡¯m not losing you again.¡±

    The conviction he spoke with. The pristine luster of his eyes as he made his vow. It all proved too much for Elena, who began pounding her own chest with both hands like a gorilla while blurting out a squee.

    AAAAARGH. Be still, my beating heart!

    ¡°Ehem,¡± Miles coughed, blushing, an admittance that he¡¯d gone a step too far in showing his feelings. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s get going, shall we?¡±

    ¡°Lead the way, oh-so-handsome rogue.¡± She cheekily pulled out her tongue.

    Miles, meanwhile, only spoke the language of the awkward. ¡°Umm, yeah. Follow me.¡±

    The two walked side-by-side, their footsteps the only sound that gave the night any struggle to maintain its calm. The river beneath, the surrounding wind, and the sky above; those were the sole other entities they shared this faint moment in time with. They both took turns exchanging shy looks; well, it¡¯d be more correct to say that Miles¡¯ eyes were the shy ones, as despite the slyness of her glances, thirst was contained within the depths of Elena¡¯s pupils.

    Elena searched for something to talk about as they abandoned the bridge, their steps leading them to a small plaza, a different one from the large one from her first day there. As they crossed it, Elena took note of a monument built right in the center, surrounded by patches of grass. It consisted of a large statue, one of a tall woman raising a blade toward the heavens. Despite there being a difference in the quality of the craft, it was evident this was the same woman from the carvings in the chapel.

    ¡°Give me a second,¡± Elena asked Miles, diverting off their course. She closed in on the

    structure, and noticed a plaque with some text explaining it. She leaned her head to read, and¡­

    Oh shit¡­ I can¡¯t read.

    Despite the citizens of this world speaking English, it seemed they used a different form of writing than she did. In all likelihood, they used different symbols for the same letters. Just a quick glance revealed some of those symbols repeated with higher frequency than others, likely being vowels. All it would now take to decipher this was¡­

    ¡°Do you need glasses, or something?¡±

    Miles noticed the strain Elena¡¯s eyes were putting themselves through, all to read a simple plaque. She must¡¯ve looked completely ridiculous.

    ¡°Uhm, yeah, I lost them back when we met.¡± Miles¡¯ question had provided her the perfect alibi. She didn¡¯t want to explain how she, a grown woman, was unable to read. ¡°Mind reading this for me?¡±

    A chortle climbed out of Miles¡¯ throat. ¡°I don¡¯t need to,¡± he replied with a chill voice, his right hand on his hip. His gaze climbed upward toward the statue¡¯s head, then he added, ¡°It just says it¡¯s a statue of the Goddess.¡±

    Elena¡¯s gaze rapidly shifted its focus between Miles and the statue.

    ¡°This is supposed to be the decisive moment of the Battle of the Barrier. But I don¡¯t know. I feel she¡¯d be far more bruised up than this.¡±

    The statue depicted the goddess as a woman of perfect skin and unparalleled beauty. Her hair was long, too long in fact, to the point of not being practical in battle, for it reached her feet and made it easy to trip over. The sword was held in an awkward position, one that left her body far too exposed. And on the topic of leaving things exposed, the woman¡¯s breasts were so large it was fair to call them balloons, with her cleavage exposed and painted with a different color. It was likely the sculptor took some¡­ artistic liberties, if what it was portraying was truly a warrior engaging in battle.

    Elena returned her gaze back at Miles, who watched the statue with strong disgust on his face; the glare he had back when defending her from those brutes did not compare to the intensity of his current one. It appeared he yearned to demolish it with his sight alone.

    ¡°Not a fan of this statue, I figure?¡± Elena asked, tilting her head.

    He let out a faint grunt. ¡°Not a fan of Cromalsky in general,¡± Miles replied monotonously. He closed his eyes for a second, then began to flail his arms as he ranted, ¡°I just. Hate. The way he sculpts bodies. You can just tell he was sculpting with one hand. Just look at the curves and the way¡ª¡±

    Miles hit the brakes of his own mouth, realizing he was going on a tirade about something Elena likely didn¡¯t care about. His head thus slowly began to turn, dreading seeing the young woman¡¯s reaction.

    Elena, meanwhile, snorted with a grin on her face. The grin only grew, as Miles¡¯ cheeks began to paint themselves red.

    He diverted his gaze shyly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He fake coughed. ¡°I got carried away there. I¡¯ve traveled the continent a fair bit, so I¡¯ve gained something of an appreciation for art, I guess you could say.¡±

    His ¡°apology¡± only made Elena blow even more air out of her nose. This sight was in fact one she could probably enjoy while munching popcorn; that of this tall man, whose fighting strength exceeded those of armies, geeking out about art and then getting all embarrassed about it.

    ¡°Oh please, I don¡¯t care,¡± Elena said, wearing a smile that had lust written all over it, ¡°If anything, I¡¯d rather you tell me aaaaall about it in excruciating detail.¡± She had no real interest in the arts of this new world, so to claim that she¡¯d carefully listen would be a lie. It was in hearing someone speak their love for their interests what Elena found great pleasure in.

    Miles¡¯ pupils grew in response, his hand on his chest as if he needed to check his heart remained there.

    The stroll toward the bar resumed, with his endless blabber about art being the sound that defined the city¡¯s night. Elena listened carefully, painting her face like that of one who listens, all while retaining precisely zero information.

    ¡ª

    Within the depths of the city¡¯s alleyways, a large, wooden door stood tall. To reach it, they had to trek through the most rotten areas of the city. Houses had broken windows, rats wandered around like they owned the place, and the roads were made of dirt. Were she in her native town, Elena would likely not transit a place such as this during the late hours of the night, not unless she wanted to return home with a knife on her back. This time, however, she was accompanied by one of the most skilled fighters in the land, and was too distracted by their conversation. It was only once they arrived at their destination that she looked around and felt the hands of discomfort rub her spine.

    Miles, meanwhile, remained composed. Standing by the door, he knocked twice; he then raised his thumb, then his index finger, then finally his middle finger. He then knocked on the door three more times; it seemed that was his way of counting seconds.

    An eye peeked through the peephole, and a masculine voice said, ¡°The password.¡±

    ¡°Stop messing around,¡± Miles replied with a furrowed brow, his arms crossed.

    ¡°You never play along. ¡±The door swiftly opened, and with a hearty laugh, the large, muscular bull of a man called Bronson was who greeted them. ¡°About time you came back¡­ and what do you know, you even found little missus!¡±

    Realizing she was the focus of Bronson¡¯s attention, Elena waved her hand at the man. ¡°Nice to see you again, Bronson. I wasn¡¯t expecting you to be the kind to run a business here.¡±

    ¡°BWAHAHA, well, I wasn¡¯t expecting you to be alive! Come on in!¡± The two of them walked right in. As they did, Bronson continued speaking. ¡°My parents have run this place for years. I set off for the seas years ago, but I help them out whenever we¡¯re in the Capital.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The bar was made of wood, from floor to ceiling. The walls were adorned with paintings; the one that stood out most to Elena featured a man and a woman, along with a small boy¡ªpresumably Bronson, but it was hard to believe that was the same person as the giant next to her.

    ¡°So yeah, if you excuse me, I have work to do. I decided to let my old man and woman have a day off¡­ much to some people¡¯s dismay.¡±

    Bronson let out a sigh as he said that, for his eyes had spotted a figure approaching him. A lanky, short man, with bags that acted as shadows for his eyes and a build frail enough for a breath to knock over. He carried a plate in his right hand, which itself carried bottles of beer and wine.

    ¡°Bronson, do I really need to deal with these drunks brutes?¡±

    ¡°If you want to make your in-laws happy, then yes.¡±

    ¡°Y¡ªYes sir! I hadn¡¯t noticed you there. My apologies.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t an order, just a simple statement of truth. But the moment he heard Miles¡¯ voice, Galen, lover of Bronson and look-out boy for the crew, quit his whining and pulled himself together.

    His composure lasted little, as when he caught sight of Elena, his face began to lose its luster. ¡°Oh, and what do we have here, a new client? Welcome to the Axe¡¯s Blade, you may have a seat.¡±

    Miles and Bronson exchanged glances, while Elena found herself simply muttering ¡°Ummmm,¡± unsure what to reply.

    ¡°She¡¯s Elena, she¡¯s the girl Miles met last week.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Galen could not hide his shock from coloring his face. He then whispered into Bronson¡¯s ear, ¡°But she fell on the Dead Sea? Even the best of swimmers drown on those waters. How on Earth is she here?¡±

    Despite his attempts at being subtle, Elena overheard the question. This caused her to freeze in place; she had no response to such an inquiry.

    The truth was that she had died; yet, the fact she was standing there acted as irrefutable evidence against that truth. It was unlikely she¡¯d be believed if she made such a claim, regardless of its veracity.

    As a gulp traveled down her neck, Miles took the weight off her shoulders, answering in her place. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s here, and that¡¯s something worth celebrating. Go fetch her a drink.¡±

    ¡°Y¡ªYes sir!¡± He turned to Elena. ¡°What may I get you, milady?¡±

    ¡°Umm, is milk alright? I¡¯m not much of a drinker.¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± He bowed, several times in quick succession. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to pick only the freshest milk for the most exquisite of tastes. You can place my faith in me!¡±

    As he said that, Bronson blanketed him with the warmth of his gaze. The burly man then closed his eyes and shook his head, while carrying a wide smile. It was clearly the face of a man who was thinking of his lover, simultaneously wanting to kiss him and strangle his neck.

    Elena knew only pieces of the relationship those two shared, but it proved enough for her to fill the remaining holes in her head. She began to bit the nails found on her index finger, as her gaze flipped back and forth between Galen¡¯s back and Bronson¡¯s tall shape; the mental equivalent of fan fiction was what went through her mind.

    Yeah, I bet he DOES know a thing or two about milk, ifyouknowwhatImean.

    She was prevented from sinning further, as the sudden wail of a woman called for her attention.

    ¡°WHYyyyyYYyyyY!¡±

    Sitting by the nearby table, a woman drowned her sorrows in red liquor. The skin of her face was bathed by her own tears. The blonde hair that adorned her head was disheveled, each strand wandering in its own separate direction.

    ¡°Whyyyy did you have to leave me¡ªElena?¡±

    Her drowsy head spun wildly, as she howled her screech of woe. Yet the moment she placed her eyes on Elena, her head halted in place, as if she¡¯d regained clarity.

    ¡°Hey, remember me?¡± Elena raised her arm as a way to greet Leila, whom she¡¯d met during her stay on Miles¡¯ ship. The perception she had of Leila was of a mature, badass pirate lady who always kept her head below the clouds. That image was betrayed by the shameful display in front of her, whose dopey expression seemed straight out of a cartoon.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I remember you¡­¡± Leila scratched her chin rapidly, a thought sneaking through the alcohol inside of her and reaching her brain. ¡°You¡­ you are the one who stole my cookies the other day!¡±

    ¡°H¡ªHuh?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll show you a thing or three you ruffian. Let¡­ me¡­ show you¡­¡±

    Leila¡¯s voice increased in intensity, to the point of sounding like a threat, before losing force as she continued to speak. Her remaining energy fizzled out alongside her words; her head came crashing down onto the table.

    ¡°Is she ok?¡± Elena asked with raised eyebrows.

    ¡°Define ok¡­¡± Miles replied. ¡°It¡¯s probably bad for her, but this is how she always acts when she gets drunk.¡±

    Miles'' expression showed exasperation, as if begging for someone to kill him. Elena hid her giggles, but she couldn''t deny that it was amusing, that the seemingly mighty Dead Sea Pirates were all a bunch of dorks when outside battle. It was a group of ruffians consisting of a drunk, a hunk plus twink couple, and with a shy, awkward art nerd for a leader.

    ¡°Please¡­come back¡­¡±

    Those slurred words were the last Leila could muster, as she seemed to pass out. Elena could barely make them out, however. Not only did Leila say them with her mouth kissing the table¡¯s wood, but there was music that fuzzed their sound.

    It was then that Elena took notice of said surrounding music. Surprisingly, it was quite familiar to her ear in terms of genre; despite it originating in this foreign world, it could safely be classified as pop. In the center of the tavern, as Miles had said, was a small dance floor; just from giving it a glance, it was evident that Bronson¡¯s bar gathered many folks from different backgrounds. Some were burly men with tattoo galleries for arms. Others were ladies in pompous dresses, likely noblewomen sneaking into the slums for a night of fun.

    The lyrics of the currently playing song were primarily in English, but random bouts of meaningless Spanish seemed to be spiced in, gatherings of disparate words that failed to form coherent sentences. This mixture of languages briefly raised Elena¡¯s suspicions, but her mind, which was ever-quick to change its focus, prioritized what her eyes were now seeing.

    Miles was standing with his back to the wall, tapping his left foot eagerly to the beat. His gaze was scattered, shifting wildly between the ceiling, the dance floor, and Elena herself. Whenever his eyes clashed with those of Elena, he¡¯d quickly cast his gaze aside, as if he was ashamed of even having said eyes. His hands were in constant motion, scratching random spots of his body,

    A black wind seemingly crashed against her skin, carrying with it recollections meant only to displease. Such motions were not unlike those of the girl she once was. This girl, many moons ago in a world roofed by a different sky, would display similar body language when placed in a place such as this, intended for social interaction.

    Her wish, a simple one; to have someone, anyone, ask her for a dance. She could¡¯ve herself been the one to do the asking, of course, but her body lacked the beauty required for such a hunt to prove fruitful. All she could do was beg in silence, hoping someone would take pity on the lonely girl standing all on her own.

    Now, she stood with the fortune of borrowing a beauty she could never dream to achieve. She knew this chance wasn¡¯t one she could permit to slip by.

    Licking her pink lips, Elena placed herself before those eyes the color of the sun, reached out her hand and confidently said, ¡°Wanna dance?¡±

    ¡°What? Me? Nononono.¡± Miles¡¯ sank into his shoulders as he gave his answer, which only managed to make Elena¡¯s smirk grow in intensity. ¡°I cannot dance. Not in the slightest.¡±

    As he uttered his statement, he gave quick glances at Elena, trying to read her reaction. Horror wrote itself on his face, as she revealed no hint of hesitation, not in her face nor in her words. ¡°Stop being so gloomy, come on!¡±

    ¡°Hey! wawawawait¡ª¡±

    Dragged by the arm like a dog on a leash, Miles was forced into the dance floor, unable to form a valid complaint. As they both stood there, surrounded by dozens of others, Miles could not stop giving his attention to other couples there, like a robot trying to analyze how humans act.

    ¡°I¡¯m not much of a dancer myself, you know,¡± Elena said, speaking the truth. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter what you do. What matters is having fun. Just let loose. Watch.¡±

    She demonstrated by starting to flail her body randomly, hopping in place like a bunny on drugs. Then, she began shaking her butt, humping the air with its round shape as she bent her knees. Her style (if it could even be called that, as it was just a melting pot of every dance move she¡¯d ever learned in her previous life) stood out when compared to the rest of the crowd, who despite the pop-like music, seemed to take a more traditional, ballroom-esque approach to their movements.

    It didn¡¯t help that, on top of her unusual ways, Miles stood there like a statue, simply staring in confusion like a lost puppy.

    ¡°Come on now, don¡¯t let me all alone, man. Are you seriously worried about people watching us?¡±

    In fairness, she couldn¡¯t deny she had an advantage in this scenario, a difference between the two of them that affected the way the two could act. Although she¡¯d stated that what mattered was simply having fun, it was a fact that dancing came with a set of unwritten rules. Back in her old world, on the rare times she allowed herself to dance, she knew she could not bring too much attention on to herself; stand out too much, and everyone in town would brand you as weird. She was new to this world, however, and therefore, didn¡¯t know anyone currently in the tavern. This meant she had no problem dancing however she wanted, as there¡¯d be no judgmental gaze for her to care about.

    Still, the idea of a mighty warrior being too shy to bust a groove was pretty funny. It was yet another grain of sand in the beach of cuteness that was Miles.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that, it¡¯s just that¡­ the only dance I know is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up and dance with me, already!¡±

    He could not finish his sentence. Elena did a twirl right before him, her long brown hair trailing along the motion of her slim body. It was completely sloppy in technique, but it appeared to captivate him, as not only did his words trail off, but suddenly¡­

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    That was her response to him catching her hand, causing her spin to end prematurely.

    Like before on the bridge, time stood completely still. The sound of the music vanished, the sounds of surrounding chatter disappeared, even their own ability to speak was not there. All that remained were their eyes, a window to each of their souls, which now lay bonded through their intertwining fingers.

    Then, time began to run again. Elena could tell it did, because she spotted a faint, slow, nod of Miles¡¯ head. It was subtle, but it meant he accepted her invitation, to be dragged into her world.

    Elena responded the only way she knew how.

    With a grin worthy of a demon, she pulled his arm like she was playing tug of war. His body was launched forward toward her, but before they both could crash into one another, she stepped aside and released her hold on his hand.

    Miles¡¯ body began spinning from the force of Elena¡¯s pull. Once he stopped, Elena met him with a smile. A similar smile displayed itself in Miles¡¯ face, a sign that he finally understood.

    He stretched both arms to the side as he tapped his foot. He did a twirl, then halted, then did another, ducking on the second one while striking a cocky posy. One that lasted little, as he burst into laughter.

    ¡°Yeah, you got it!¡± Elena cheered him while clapping, pleased with the result of her stubborn insistence. The man who just before was too nervous to show a hint of his self was not only grooving carelessly to the beat, but was also laughing at himself. In fact, this might¡¯ve been the first time she¡¯d heard him laugh.

    He continued with movements that were swift and full of grace. He hopped around the dance floor, mixing in kicks to the air. Each time he crouched, he covered his head with his hands. It was clear his dance was one influenced by his time in the battlefield, a reminder that no matter how upbeat, this man was still a warrior of unlikely ability.

    Maybe it could seem a bit uncanny, but so long as he was enjoying it, Elena was not one to reproach. It did make her look lame in comparison, but again, she cared not about anyone¡¯s opinion.

    As she thought her thoughts, she stood still, too occupied with observing him. Suddenly, her hand was gripped.

    ¡°Come on, now you are the one just standing still. That¡¯s not really fair, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Elena blushed, overwhelmed by the gold emanating from his eyes. It felt chilling, to be the one being teased for the first time.

    Hand in hand, the two danced. It was not sloppy, nor was it graceful, but rather something in between, something born of the ways each of them lived. It was the dance of two people, born from different worlds, coming together as one. Their hands were the rope that tied them together; neither pulled harder than the other, for neither wanted this game of tug of war to end.

    And yet, without knowing it, Elena would still bring it to an end. Each peek of his eyes she got slowly built her yearning for the perfect closing act for the night. So, she pulled herself toward him like a magnet, then swiftly placed her left arm on his left shoulder, and then¡ª

    ¡°Catch me.¡±

    With that whisper to his ear, her body began to fall backward, as if to meet the ground with her back.

    While at first, he could only raise his eyebrows in confusion, the first glimpse of her tender body descending like a leaf in fall was all it took for Miles to comprehend the meaning of her whisper. His instinct as a man took over, and he placed his hands to prevent her fall.

    All the stares of curious onlookers had surely morphed into ones of envy. But those stares mattered not, for they no longer existed. Neither did the music nor the walls of the club.

    All that mattered were the two of them, stranded in a world where time did not pass. Elena, suspended by the grasp of the beautiful man¡¯s firm arms, had her lips only a few centimeters removed from his.

    The perfect finale she¡¯d foreseen to her night had already arrived. So perhaps it was nothing but greed to ask for more. To reach for that which she always yearned for. For all her wishes to be satisfied, to seal it all with a kiss¡­

    Please¡­ let this be¡­

    They were covered in sweat. But it didn¡¯t matter. They barely knew each other. But it didn¡¯t matter.

    So long as she could live this fantasy, nothing else mattered.

    Everything, her many deaths, her time in the castle, all would be worth it, so long as she could finally¡­

    ¡°Everyone, halt right there.¡±

    That voice. It broke through her ecstasy, and brought her soul plummeting back down to the world.

    The voice was then joined by dozens of others, which blended together into a surrounding hubbub. All of them showed concern with their sound, evidence of something being wrong.

    Elena stood back properly, and looked squarely at the origin of the voice. Standing by the pub¡¯s entrance was a tall man, clad in armor adorned with medals. His hair was gray, and a sword awaited hungrily on the scabbard by his waist.

    ¡°Hand over the girl, and all of you shall be allowed to walk free.¡±

    ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­¡±

    The one gracing them with his presence¡ªnone other than the greatest of the kingdom¡¯s knights, Thales.

 Chapter 12: Help

    It all happened in the blink of an eye.

    That world of ecstasy. Of dancing and smiling, where her anxieties vanished by the overwhelming power of song.

    The world contained within the walls of this club¡­ it had crumbled.

    In the blink of an eye, the floor that had witnessed her dance morphed into a battlefield. A face-off, between two of the greatest warriors in the land.

    ¡°Miles!¡±

    Elena called out the name of the lovely man with whom she¡¯d been sharing the evening with. But her words were too slow, because those of any person would be too slow. Upon glancing at the wrinkled and scarred face of Thales Lockgood, Miles¡¯ eyes flared with anger, and in a flash, he seemingly warped right in front of Thales.

    *Clink*

    No words, no grunts, no chants. In an instant, Miles had become one with the wind, and swung at Thales¡¯ chest, no will beyond that of taking the man¡¯s life.

    Against any opponent, such a swift maneuver would prove enough to win the battle. Despite charging at him head-on, Miles¡¯ speed was such that it could qualify as a sneak attack, not giving the average warrior a chance to react.

    Thales Lockgood was no average warrior.

    The seemingly instant strike by Miles was met by Thales¡¯ own blade, which he quickly brought out of his scabbard. Hit by the force of a freight train, Thales slid backward, as the two remained locked in a clash of steel, their faces close enough to share breaths.

    Miles hopped backward, trying to regain a bit of distance after his scheme failed.

    ¡°Impressive,¡± Thales said. ¡°You managed to quickly build up enough Wind Mana around your blade for a quick strike. That¡¯s the kind of dirty fighting I expect of the son of¡­¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Miles blinked with his golden eyes, then without so much as opening them raised his blade. Once again, he lunged at his opponent, sending his way a series of five, consecutive blows, which were slower than the one before but with significantly more strength. Thales, however, effortlessly blocked them all, without a hint of desperation on his rugged face.

    ¡°I must warn you, though your skill is astounding, if you think I¡¯m an opponent you can simply overcome through sheer brute force, you will be disappointed. You¡¯re going to have to give it your all if you want to get past me¡±

    Miles frowned at the sound of Thales¡¯ words, which were uttered with an uncanny calmness considering the situation.

    Though both combatants were trained in the art of Sword Dancing, there were vast, evident differences in the way both of them were approaching this fight. Miles¡¯ way was to swing fast and to swing first, wanting to drag the battle to a close as quickly as possible using his speed. Thales, meanwhile, simply stood his ground like an iron wall, standing by the entrance and blocking any attack that came his way. It was his way of evening out the difference in age between them, employing a fighting style that required less movement out of him. Most peculiar, he was not even attempting to land any counterattacks, content with simply stopping Miles from defeating him.

    Of course, this was also because killing Miles was not his actual aim.

    ¡°But¡­ if you hand over the girl, we can tie a bow to this little skirmish, and then forget this happened.¡±

    Elena, who¡¯d been watching from the sidelines, felt her heart stop. She was the one responsible for the events unfolding, and she was the one who could put an end to them. Thales was here with the sole purpose of retrieving her and returning her to the castle that she¡¯d unintentionally escaped from. To surrender herself was a very real option that needed considering. The rest of the patrons, who¡¯d been dancing minutes ago like this night was their last, now surrounded her with looks of concern and indignation, knowing their lives had been thrown into danger because of her.

    Most importantly, Miles¡¯ life was also in danger. The concern showed in his eyes, as he gave quick glances at Elena before refocusing on his enemy.

    If I stay here, then¡­

    ¡°Bronson, Galen, get Elena and the others away! I¡¯ll distract him!¡±

    ¡°Yes sir!¡±

    Elena couldn¡¯t even finish her thought, as suddenly a bony hand gripped hers, beginning to drag her away.

    ¡°W¡ªWait!¡± Elena said to deaf ears. Although she didn¡¯t want to leave Miles alone, she was strung along by Galen, who grabbed her hand and began running.

    ¡°Apologies milady, but the boss¡¯s orders are orders,¡± Galen said. Despite his scrawny build, his strength was enough to overwhelm Elena.

    A loud shout then echoed in the air. ¡°Everyone, follow me to the back entrance.¡± The shout belonged to the burly man by the name of Bronson. On his shoulders, the figure of a blonde woman could be spotted.

    ¡°G¡ªGood, morning everybody, hip¡±

    Leila, too wasted to move, was being carried by Bronson, who wasted no second running to the back of the bar. The other clients, totaling about eight total, followed him.

    ¡°Let¡¯s take the stairs. From there, we¡¯ll¡ª¡± Bronson kept giving everyone orders, but even his roaring voice was drowned out by the sudden, loud swoosh.

    The noise came from the entrance. Elena looked backward as she was running, and noticed the two men clashing swords had vanished, taking their fight outside.

    Please¡­ be fine.

    It was a miracle that she and Miles managed to meet. It was an even bigger miracle that they managed to meet after her having met death.

    Thus, she could not prevent anxiety from building inside her chest. No matter how confident she might be about his skills, she couldn¡¯t help worrying about what might happen should the worst come to pass. Especially when the reason the young man was risking his life was because of her.

    So, in a move she knew she might regret, she shook her hand, breaking free of Galen¡¯s grip.

    ¡°Milady, where are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I want to help!¡± Elena said, before starting to dash in the opposite direction.

    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t¡ª¡± Gales wanted to stop her, but from his panting it was clear he did not have the energy to give chase.

    Foolish though it may be, Elena wanted to help. What she could do to help, she didn¡¯t know, but she knew she wanted to help. Even if it was just by blocking an attack with her body, that would be more than enough for her.

    She had the ability to cheat death. So as long as Miles lived, any encounter would be a success, even if it led to her death. In a way, it could be said her life was of less importance, as this current life of hers was just one life in many, a privilege most aren¡¯t privy to.

    Hence, she couldn¡¯t accept simply turning tail, all while someone else risked their life for her.

    Elena dashed outside into the same alleyway she and Miles had arrived through. It was then that her skin turned cold and the hem of her dress was swept upward, a sudden gust of wind that threatened to take hold of even her soul. She inspected her surroundings, trying to catch a hint of Miles.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    And a hint was all she caught.

    Above her, on top of the nearby rooftops, a large concentration of wind built up. To describe it with words would be doing such a sight a disservice, but it was like two small tornados crashing into one another. Beams of light could be seen taking the arc of curves, accompanied by the loud thunk of steel meeting steel. Their bodies were invisible to the naked eye, swallowed by the whims of the wind.

    It was a fight that exceeded that which humans were capable of. A struggle between two forces of nature, both unstoppable and relentless. Such a battle was meant only for those who were exceptional, for those who could soar beyond the heights that their humanity limited them to.

    Elena forgot her ability to breathe. Such was the natural result of seeing two masters of the wind, locked in battle against each other with the intent to kill.

    Only when he took the time to pant that Elena could actually spot the figure of Miles, whose energy seemed to be faltering. Standing on a roof, he inspected the street turned battlefield from the high ground, looking for the sight of his foe.

    Instead, he caught sight of Elena, and raised his eyebrows in horror.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he quickly yelled.

    Knowing she¡¯d come there with no plan, Elena had no answer. Nor did she have time to think of one.

    In the span of a thunder strike, Miles, who had his attention on Elena, leaped high into the sky. Where he once stood, the swinging arc of Thales¡¯ blade could be found. The old knight had attempted to strike during a moment of inattention from the young pirate, going on the offensive for the first time. To his surprise, Miles had predicted such a tactic, and managed to dodge by reaching for the far skies.

    A trail of wind rained down, following Miles¡¯ sword as it plunged downward in search of its prey. Before hitting the ground, Miles swung his weapon, attempting to cleave his enemy¡¯s neck.

    Instead, his slash only managed to cut the air, as his target vanished before his eyes.

    ¡°What the¡ª¡±

    Elena covered her face with her arm, as suddenly, a barrage of small chunks of glass stormed toward her, cutting her fair skin. They originated from the window by the wall of a nearby building, which exploded all of a sudden.

    When her eyes became unperturbed again, she stared at the battle yet again. Now, the standings had changed. Thales and Miles were exchanging blows, with the former standing on the opposite side to where he had been just before.

    Could it be¡­ that he ran along the wall, then tried to hit Miles from behind?

    If Thales, who appeared past his prime, was capable of such a maneuver, then who knew what else could those who called themselves Sword Dancers achieve?

    A gulp ran down Elena¡¯s neck as she kept an eye on the fight. At moments, she could describe what she saw as a battle of two men, a delicate dance with their blades as the participants. At other times, the picture the combat gave off exceeded her understanding, both participants turning into green blurs; they were two separate winds, each blowing in the opposite direction, that through their swords threatened to impose their will on the other.

    What am I even doing here?

    Elena asked herself the same question Miles had raised less than a minute before. And just like before, she had no answer¡ªbecause there was none.

    She had no business even thinking she could provide anything for such a battle, a battle where no regular human could so much as contribute, let alone one as worthless as her. Such a battle was a realm reserved only for those who went beyond the norm, beings whose fighting spirit let them overcome the limits of their flesh and bone.

    Grasping that she was out of her element, Elena turned around to make it back inside. Unfortunately, a cyclone struck her back, and before her eyes, the figure of a man appeared, blocking the entrance with his body. Thales, carrying scorn in his eyes, raised his blade high, and without a word, let it run loose on her head.

    Elena closed her eyes and shivered in fear. The following second proved interminable.

    Why? She¡¯d approached the battle willing to die. So why was she shivering? Why did she struggle to look death in the eyes? Why did death still bring her fear?

    A shriek was what enveloped sound itself. A shriek that could have come from her lips, yet it was not accompanied by the harrowing sensation of her skin being torn apart, as she expected. The screech had come from someone else, someone with a masculine, heavy voice.

    Someone whose life mattered more, and who was now being subjected to the pain that belonged to be hers.

    When Elena opened her eyes, she saw Miles; his posture was weakened, his knees were shaking, soon to crumble. His cheeks, his lips, his forehead; they were all washed in blood. His right hand clutched the hilt of his blade. The other, covered a wound to his chest.

    Elena could only watch in dismay. Gasp at what her presence had brought on the body of this man who, in a moment of desperation, risked his life for hers. For a life that mattered so much less than his.

    Why? I am such an idiot. I always make everything worse.

    Panic began to set in in her.

    Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy

    Elena tortured herself with words of self-deprecation, hoping one of them might allow her to turn back time, to walk back on her foolish decision. It was a fruitless effort. Nothing could erase the fact that her mere presence might have cut Miles¡¯ life short.

    ¡°I must congratulate you,¡± Thales said. ¡°You managed to deflect my blows enough to survive. But I must warn you, this is the end of the road for you. I¡¯ll be taking care of the girl from now on.¡±

    Despite his sorry state, Miles still raised his blade with conviction. Glaring at Thales, he said, ¡°Ne¡­ver¡­You¡­¡± If he had further words, he could not utter them, as blood was all that his throat was able to spit out.

    Gusts of winds began to surround Thales, the tip of his blade shining with hunger for further flesh. ¡°Farewell, Miles of the Dead Sea Pirates. I wish our fight had been an honorable one, but this was all I could offer you.¡±

    Thales showed dignity through his words, despite said words carrying his killing intent. He appeared to show regret over employing such an underhanded tactic, despite not having shown hesitation in doing so. Thales, who was a seasoned fighter, understood that such schemes were a necessity when under the fire of battle. It was perhaps as a form of respect, then, that Thales showed no restraint against fighting dirty, as it acknowledged Miles as a formidable opponent.

    Elena, however, felt no such respect for the person that was Thales.

    ¡°You fucker! How dare a supposed knight resort to such tactics?¡±

    At hearing her scorn, Thales aimed her gaze toward her. ¡°You are the one who turned this into a two-versus-one. I would watch your tongue before calling me dishonorable.¡±

    Scowling was all she could do in response. Despite his words being in jest, they still served were a reminder of her original aim: to help. Thus, she had no leg to stand on in this discussion, as being a combatant was her intention from the start. This meant that Thales was completely within his right to target her.

    As ever, her mere presence had spelled nothing but trouble, a waste of flesh who could not do anything beyond stand around and be useless.

    If there was any way she could redeem herself, she would take it.

    Thankfully, there was one such action, one single role that she, and only she, could do to wash away her sin.

    She ran in front of Miles¡¯ body, extending her arms from side to side. ¡°Leave Miles be, and I¡¯ll go with you,¡± she proclaimed.

    ¡°What!¡± Miles voiced out loud. Despite struggling to even speak, his disbelief was voiced loud and clear, as if Elena¡¯s actions were so out of pocket that even his wounds forgot how to function. ¡°Elena, what are you¡­¡±

    ¡°Trust me. I¡¯ll be fine¡­¡± Elena slid her hand on his cheeks, swiping off the trails of blood. ¡°I trust that you¡­ will come for me.¡±

    If this was the only way she could help, so be it. Compared to giving her life, some would say that she was getting off easy. For Elena herself, this choice was a no-brainer, and on her eyes her determination was written. Her fiery eyes were like emblems, and carved within them was Elena¡¯s confidence.

    Her confidence in that they¡¯d meet again.

    This meeting¡­ it could not be a simple miracle. It had to be the work of fate.

    Such was her perhaps naive belief.

    Miles¡¯ face went through several emotions at the events unfolding. Sadness, anger, dismay. But eventually, acceptance was what he settled on. He bowed his head, then whispered, ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡­ couldn¡¯t protect you. This is¡­ my fault.¡±

    Elena reacted by bringing her hand to her chest. The cutting edge found within Miles¡¯ words was aimed at himself, yet Elena could also feel it scratching her heart.

    Why was this man, whose life was at risk due to her mistakes, also blaming himself? Why did she, on top of everything else, have to deliver mental stress upon his poor being?

    ¡°No. It is I who¡­¡°

    ¡°I agree to such terms.¡± Thales cut her off, then sheathed his sword, a warm smile building on his otherwise stone-cold face.   ¡°You are surprisingly reasonable, Lady Elena. Now please, let¡¯s waste no more time and return to the Castle.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me Lady.¡± She sighed, then began walking toward Thales. She made a Herculean effort to keep her body upright, but eventually she snuck in quick, backward looks. Although Thales accepted letting Miles go, the young pirate was still heavily wounded, to the point his body collapsed on the ground.

    Thales seemed to pick up on her concern, and so, as soon as she stood by his side, he said to Miles, ¡°I must apologize for my behavior. Capturing Lady Elena was my objective, and I yearned to accomplish it no matter how dishonorable. You have truly entertained me tonight, however. I would like to have a proper duel against you someday. So tonight, let me help you live until that day comes.¡± Thales clapped his hands, then gave a call. ¡°Cordelia!¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    From within the alleyway¡¯s shadow, a figure of a young lady entered the scene. Even with a sleeping sun, her blue eyes sparkled with intense light, drowning those who stared into them with the might of the sea.

    ¡°Your orders, Master?¡± Cordelia said, her voice brittle like glass.

    ¡°Cordelia! You are¡­ you are safe.¡±

    Elena¡¯s voice boomed within those city streets, yet they had no impact on the statue made of flesh called Cordelia, who simply received them with a cold, unfeeling stare and with lips sealed like an envelope.

 Chapter 13: Stubborn

    Those icy, blue eyes of Cordelia stared straight at Elena, but bore no reaction to the latter¡¯s presence. In fact, they carried no feelings at all. Any stranger who glanced her way would conclude that the girl could not feel at all, an empty puppet simply playing the part of a living being.

    ¡°Please, heal the ruffian lying on the floor. Enough so that he won¡¯t die, but not enough as to be a threat.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± Cordelia bowed dutifully. She raised her hand and aimed her dead eyes at Miles, whose wounds showered his body with the taint of blood. ¡°Curar¡­ cuerpo.¡±

    As her lips released the sound of that simple incantation, Miles¡¯s skin began to glow blue. Grunts of pain came out of his lips, but despite that, his condition was improving. Tissue began to cover the hole on his chest, and the red bruises all over his face gave way to a light brown that matched the rest of his skin.

    Noticing his healed wounds, Miles immediately tried to get up; a strong pain from his back put a halt to that attempt.

    Cordelia had followed the order to the letter. Miles¡¯ health was such that he would end the day alive, but had no chance to carry on the fight.

    ¡°Take care of yourself until our next bout.¡± The target of Thales¡¯ eyes switched. ¡°Cordelia, we are leaving.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± Cordelia uttered again the same response as before, unblinking like a machine. She stepped forward to where Thales and Elena were standing.

    It was then that her doll-like face was touched by the light of the moon. Elena stared intensely at her petite body, awaiting eagerly to be washed away by the girl¡¯s beauty as it drew ever closer to her vigilant eyes.

    Albeit the current situation was most unfortunate, so long as she could please her eyes with the sight of that blooming flower, then maybe she¡¯d enjoy a brief moment of respite.

    Instead, the orchid that presented itself before her eyes was one with withered petals. The silk-like skin that shaped Cordelia¡¯s face had become spoiled by the presence of bruises, one underneath her nose and one on each cheek. Those blue eyes Elena found so alluring had their beauty eclipsed by the black cue right underneath them, evidence of the damage they¡¯d taken.

    Just as before, it was correct to say Cordelia¡¯s face resembled a doll. But before, she resembled a collector¡¯s doll, perfect in skin and with delicate features. Now, it was more appropriate to call her a beaten kids¡¯ plaything, like a Barbie whose owner had been far too rough on her.

    ¡°Cordelia! What¡ªWhat happened to you?¡±

    Her roar carried a mixture of emotions; wrath, dismay, despair. Elena took a step back, reeling from the agonizing frame in front of her. Her eye twitched, and her hand clung to her beating heart.  Nonetheless, Cordelia seemed immune to the effects of her concern, as she simply walked right next to Elena, her ears acting deaf and her pupils not even moving to bless Elena with their presence.

    ¡°This was her reward for her disobedience ,¡± Thales explained. ¡°Albeit the King had no love for the protesters, casting magic in the public eye was a sin most blasphemous.¡±

    A knot tied itself within Elena¡¯s throat. Her fists were clenched, perhaps because they too could not bear to witness the state of the young lady.

    Elena blessed Miles with her last soulful look of the night. The young man was not only too weak to fight, he was too weak to speak, too weak to so much as raise his head and look her in the eyes. But Elena felt the message her lips would send would nevertheless reach its destination.

    ¡°I¡¯m going with them. I can¡¯t leave Cordelia behind¡­ so please, come save us.¡±

    Elena¡¯s words were carved out of foolish ambition. She spoke as if she was making a choice to leave with Thales, and she spoke as if there was anything she could do to help Cordelia. Yet, that she still had the strength to utter those words sprung her heart to bounce with pride, as they carried her hope within their sound. So long as she believed that everything would turn out well, she was willing to push forward, to face any threat that came her way.

    ¡°Now, lady Elena, let us return to the castle,¡± Thales said. He drew his sword slightly, its sound his way of reminding her of what disobedience entailed.

    She needed to cling to that hope, to counter the suspicion, or perhaps worry, that nothing she did could help Cordelia in any way.

    And yet, Elena wanted to try. To fight

    Because if she let such a beautiful girl suffer¡­

    If she sat idly by without standing up for what she believes¡­

    I¡¯d rather die a thousand times!

    She could not allow herself to be powerless. Even if the road ahead led to her demise, she¡¯d venture said road if it meant protecting that girl who¡¯d touched her heart.

    With Cordelia as the fuel for her resolve, Elena turned around, puffing her chest, and walked out of the alleyway alongside Thales and Cordelia.

    <hr>

    The room she saw was plain.

    While she acknowledged that the room was filled with paintings and pillars of elaborate craft, her eyes refused to give them an ounce of care. For Elena, all this room contained was a table with which to playfully pound with her anxious hands.

    As soon as they set foot in the royal palace, she and Cordelia were separated. She was brought to the same room where she¡¯d awoken the previous day, where she spent the night. Once the morning came, Thales appeared and escorted her into this room, then told he to take a seat as he stood guard by the door, the two of them waiting for the prince to arrive. Cordelia, meanwhile, was ordered to attend the gardens, as Thales revealed after much pestering from Elena.

    But while Elena may have lost sight of her body, nothing could remove Cordelia from her mind. The passage of time hurt Elena, as each second was spent reminiscing on that alarming portrait she¡¯d been witness to last night.

    Escape plans began to form in her mind. They were crafted not with use of careful consideration, the kind to ensure success, Rather, they were built out of a gallant desire, molded by the wish of being the one to grab that girl by the hand and drag her away from danger.

    A creak struck her ears. Through the door, a young man of average stature and blonde hair came in. It was none other than Charles, prince of the Kingdom of Luzterna, who waved a heavy smile on his face. Despite his status, Elena¡¯s heart could not be swayed by his elegance, or lack thereof. Compared to the last time she¡¯d seen him, his looks were a marked improvement. His hair was properly combed, for one, and he wore blue regalia worthy of a royal. Yet his trousers were clearly a size too big for him, and his sleeves did not fully cover his arms. This all served to demolish any princely charm he might have, in spite of his face not being too ugly to look at.

    Of course, he could be the sexiest man alive, and it would have no impact on the spite that now filled Elena¡¯s eyes. She glared intensely at him with a furrowed brow and a finger on her chin, wishing deeply to scorch him alive in the spot. It could not differ more from the green look of glee Charles gave in response, accompanied by a wide, inviting smile.

    He kept licking his lips, evidence of wanting to speak, but struggling to let the words out. Eventually, he said, ¡°I¡¯m so, so grateful to have you back. I thought those protesters harmed you.¡±

    ¡°What did you do to Cordelia?¡± Elena curtly replied. She cared not for whatever the young man had to say; her aim was one and one alone. The vitriol with which she spoke was evident, leading Charles to blink rapidly. Only then, did the depth of her anger seem to sink in.

    ¡°Do you mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°She means Number 9, milord,¡± Thales said, stepping into the conversation.

    ¡°Oh, her. Well¡±¡ªhe scratched the back of his head¡ª ¡±after Thales informed him of her behavior in the city, my father gave her an appropriate punishment.¡± He began twiddling his fingers upon seeing Elena¡¯s face, which only seemed to flare up further. ¡°But we¡¯re getting off-topic¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± Elena halted his attempt to sway the course of the conversation. She puffed her chest and turned up the heat of her stare. ¡°What gives you the right to subject a girl to something like that?¡±

    Charles just silently played with the neckline of his shirt, then stared at Thales, expecting perhaps a lifeline to be thrown his way. When that didn¡¯t arrive, he spouted out the truth. ¡°Well, she¡¯s a Marked, you know. That is the treatment they deserve.¡±

    He spoke naturally, as if he was telling the weather. Elena, disgusted with his words, flew into a fit of rage. ¡°That of a slave?¡± she asked, punctuating the sound of each word.

    ¡°I suppose you could say that. As you must know, that is what the Goddess ordered for the Marked following the war.¡±

    Elena¡¯s heartbeat increased with every syllable his mouth spouted, raw dread filling her body and cooling her skin.

    Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Why she¡¯d been captured the day she¡¯d first arrived. Why there were riots on the streets. And most important of all, why Cordelia¡¯s eyes were devoid of emotion, why her clothes were in such a dismal state, why she was referred to by a number instead of a name.

    That girl who¡¯d quickly won over Elena¡¯s heart¡ªwithin these royal walls, she was no better than a slave, a simple tool the royals employed for housekeeping and other tasks. That was the fate that had befallen her, all for the crime of being born with a mark on her arm.

    Elena cast her gaze downward, with eyes so swollen they were about to burst. She remained in silence, as Charles kept talking, explaining the details about why the Marked¡¯s oppression was justified in his eyes; Elena had no mind to pay him or his lore, as she was too caught in her emotions, and no explanation could make such an abhorrent act as slavery be justified, anyway.

    That was, until something he said actually reached her ears. ¡°...I understand why seeing her like that must be hard for you, as you yourself carry a mark.¡±

    Clarity hit Elena in the form of wind. He¡¯d just reminded her of a fact she¡¯d been neglecting, perhaps because it was such a harrowing truth. This fate Cordelia was a victim of was not one exclusive to her. Not only were there likely many others under the same curse, but she herself was one of them.

    ¡°But you need not worry. I will make sure that nobody finds out, and that you¡¯re treated with the utmost of graces.¡±

    Elena couldn¡¯t avoid tilting her head. Right after going on a tangent about why the Marked deserved no rights, he insisted she had nothing to worry about. ¡°Why are you treating me like this?¡±

    Charles shut his eyes, and gave a grin that rode the line between warm and devilish. He stood up, and began wandering the room, much to Elena¡¯s confusion. He looked wistfully, and eventually spoke.

    ¡°I just¡­ had my heart stolen.¡±

    ¡°Huh? By me?¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Charles stared at her, his eyes carrying the essence of a lovesick puppy. The intensity of his stare was such, that Elena found it a bit suffocating. He then added, ¡°I remember that sunset. I was walking by the beach, unsure of what to do with my life¡ª¡±

    ¡°Uhmmm, you¡¯re a prince. I don¡¯t think you should be struggling too much with that.¡±

    ¡°¡ªand then, I saw you.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what? You were the one who found me?¡±

    ¡°Yes. You were lying on the sand, your hair washed by the incoming waves. Although I first caught sight of you from far away, your beauty captivated me instantly, and the spell only proved stronger as I grew closer.¡±

    ¡°My¡­ beauty?¡± Elena gave her own body a passing glance, her mind needing a refresher as to what it looked like. She wasn¡¯t used to such a pleasing term as beauty to be assigned to her.

    ¡°As soon my eyes caught a glimpse of you, I knew I had to make you my wife. I knew¡­ that I loved you!¡±

    Charles gave his declaration with all the strength of his chest, and it managed to pierce Elena¡¯s heart¡ªjust not in the way he hoped. Instead, she felt great pain, as she gripped her dress. ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± Elena said, albeit only with the strength of a mutter.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Even if she hadn¡¯t her current hatred for Charles¡¯ self, she¡¯d deny his love. It was a foolish, so-called love, one born from a first sight that was filled with misunderstanding. It was not one aimed at the real person who called herself Elena; it was love for the person who once resided inside this body, a body that she was simply borrowing.

    Felt like an insult almost, a slap in the face. To hear an I love you, that phrase she¡¯d always yearned to hear back in her original world, directed at herself, but only thanks to a charm that was not hers. She could thus not be accepting of such a sentiment, as surely it would dissipate were he to see the real, ugly self dwelling inside her body.

    But in spite of it all, there still remained a reason for her to accept his proposal, one that much as she might want to, she could not overlook.

    ¡°So please¡­ marry me.¡± Charles stretched out his hand. ¡°To have you at my side¡­ it would make me the happiest man in the world. And you would live the life of a queen, free of the suffering your mark would bring upon you.¡±

    Elena¡¯s expression lit up at the sound of his words. If it¡¯s true that the treatment of the Marked was that abhorrent, then to take his hand in marriage was a no-brainer.

    Why struggle, why be subject to the whims of oppression and cruelty, when she could be the wife of one of the most powerful people in the land?

    That was the question that swam through her mind, which was an ocean of contradictions. Her whole past life she¡¯d been raised with progressive values, and despite holding those convictions close to her heart, the option still seemed appealing. Who could judge her, for casting those ideals aside, if it meant living a life of vice and pleasure? All at the cost of being the wife of a man she didn¡¯t care for¡ªa price women often had the misfortune of paying anyway.

    With her decision made, Elena rose to her feet. She stared intensely at his hand, then began reaching for it with her slim fingers. Her hand was shaking, clad in anxiety about what it was about to do.

    But suddenly, the hesitation was whisked away, as in one swift movement, Elena solidified her choice.

    A thundering smack was heard, followed by the audible gasp the observing Thales let out.

    With the force of a speeding truck, the palm of Elena¡¯s hand slapped Charles right cheek, leaking a red mark. He recoiled backward from the impact, barely managing to keep his footing, his back scraping the wall behind him.

    With a raised chin and eyes so scorching they could set a forest ablaze, Elena wasted no time letting her stance clear. ¡°You think I will sit by, merrily being your little wife, as you oppress those you see as beneath you? You think I can just go along and pretend to love someone who¡¯s willing to enslave another fellow human? Because let me tell you, I¡¯d rather die a thousand times!¡±

    ¡°Lady Elena, remain quiet,¡± Thales cut in, hand on his blade.

    ¡°Halt, Thales,¡± Charles ordered. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, I expected you to refuse at first. But I don¡¯t mind that. Stubbornness is a quality I admire in a woman, actually.¡± Stars were written on his pupils, as if he actually enjoyed the sight of Elena standing up to him. ¡°But I know in due time, you¡¯ll grow to reassess my proposal. Until that day comes, you can be a guest in the palace.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, what is wrong with you?¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Are you really that horny that you¡¯ll even forgive me slapping you just because I¡¯m pretty? You don¡¯t know anything about me, what do you even see in me?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly it! You¡¯re like a mystery. You have no past, you showed no awe at being stuck at the palace. I just¡­ think you¡¯re really¡­ interesting.¡±

    Of course HE would say the line.

    Elena sighed, bringing her palm on to her face.

    Much as she hated this whole scenario, she could not deny that his flattering perception of her could come in handy. If he really wanted to host her, in the unwise hope that she¡¯d turn her opinion on him around, then so be it.

    ¡°Very well then,¡± Elena said, her voice playing the role of a noblewoman, ¡°if you want me to feel like a guest, then surely it would be no problem if I wandered the gardens by myself for a little bit?¡±

    ¡°Of course not, my beloved. Thales, please let her go.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, are you sure this is wise? To allow her to live here, despite rejecting you.¡±

    ¡°Worrying about being wise is a concern of a warrior, Thales. I, who live a life of privilege, would rather not drown myself with such worries. If I want her as my wife, nobody will prevent that. Not her, nor you, understood?¡±

    With a defeated sigh, Thales said, ¡°Understood, your Highness.¡± He stepped aside, letting Elena pass through the door, who did so with only one objective in mind.

    <hr>

    Wandering through the Royal Gardens seemed an endless endeavor. Green was the overwhelming cue that filled the eye no matter where one may look, with bushes and trees that were as tall as they were picturesque. Other colors sometimes snuck into view, originating from the numerous flowers that sprung life to the otherwise lifeless palace.

    Elena, however, did not allow herself the opportunity to appreciate the plants. She wasn¡¯t much of a gardener, so while she could tell there was a wide variety of flowers on offer, she wasn¡¯t one to gain much from inspecting or smelling them.

    Besides, there was only one flower in this whole garden prone to the beauty needed to make her heart dance feverishly. In search of her, she¡¯d maintain a steady gait for years, were it to come down to that.

    Even if it meant running with heels, as she was doing now.

    Where on Earth is this girl? My feet are killing me.

    Elena cast her gaze in all directions, met with disappointment no matter where it went. The gardens were spacious enough that it was possible to wander around for a significant period of time only seeing plant life. It was a good thing the palace itself stood so tall, else it¡¯d be easy to get lost, not unlike a hedge maze.

    But if there was one good thing about that lifeless stream of green, it was that any and all sound stood out. As Elena was taking a breather, hunching down from tiredness, her ears began to make out the nearby sound of clipping shears, likely fighting a mighty brawl with rebellious vines.

    ¡°That must be her,¡± Elena said out loud, with little in the way of proof but also in the way of doubt. Swallowing her saliva, she prepared for one last hurrah, one last sprint with the sound as her guide.

    To her welcome surprise, her assessment had been right on the money.

    ¡°Cordelia, there you are. Finally, I found you. You have NO idea how long I¡¯ve been looking for you. I needed to see¡ª¡±

    The relief Elena wore was soon extinguished, as she began to choke on her own words upon witnessing Cordelia¡¯s reaction¡ªor rather, the lack of it. Those blue eyes of hers were not granting Elena a dive into their oceanic depths, instead remaining set on the vines she was relentlessly cutting down, making use of shears almost as tall as her body.

    Elena¡¯s throat turned sour, not from the heat but rather from concern. As the two remained in silence, she began to fear their relationship had somehow reset in the time they were separated. But she cast those doubts aside for a moment, and rebuilt her smile, before adding, ¡°Anyway, now that we¡¯re here, all alone, we can devise a way to leave this crazy place.¡±

    Both of the shears¡¯ scissors crashed into one another, their collision generating such a loud sound it startled Elena a little. But if their sound was what pierced her ears, what pierced her heart was that it was Cordelia¡¯s sole response, as she again denied Elena so much as a glance, let alone a word.

    A long, long breath began to fill Elena¡¯s nostrils. Whatever was going on, it was evident her words were not reaching the girl. Thus, she changed her tone, going from boisterous to genuine and solemn. ¡°Listen. I can see from your face alone that you¡¯re not treated well here. Your eyes show they¡¯ve been through hell, your arms have scratches. And worst of all, you have no freedom. You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re a slave! Treated as no better than the tool you hold in your hands.¡±

    Cordelia continued her gardening as normal, unaffected by Elena¡¯s statements, which were meant to cause her to reflect. All that Cordelia afforded her for a reply was a light nod, as if acknowledging Elena¡¯s words as true, yet denying them of the weight they deserved.

    Elena clenched her teeth for a second, but she then shook her head wildly, as if attempting to scatter her doubts away. No matter what, she would not be stopped. She would continue giving voice to her resolve.

    ¡°So please, Cordelia, let me help you. Don¡¯t you want to lead a life of freedom, where you serve nobody? I¡¯m sure you do. So, you need to get out of here!¡±

    Once again, her words were swollen by the wind, reaching nobody.

    Frustration began to set in. Was Cordelia truly a robot, a soulless being that cared not for her own self? That could not be. Earlier, Elena had seen hints of the girl who hid underneath that robotic mask, who wore a smile sweet as sugar. It wasn¡¯t much, but she wanted to believe there was more to Cordelia to be uncovered, further reaches of her soul that Elena had yet to explore.

    ¡°I need you to get out of here,¡± she yelled, a yell that soared out of her throat with force. ¡°I can¡¯t simply stand by as you get hurt. So please, when Miles comes¡­ leave with me. I need you to come with me.¡±

    That moment of ire was all it took for all pretenses of selflessness to be thrown away. It wasn¡¯t just that she wanted Cordelia not to be hurt. She wanted to be the one to save her. To take her hand and brisk her away from the evils of the world.

    Even if it was against Cordelia¡¯s own wishes.

    Complete silence was what she received as an answer to her speech. This was an improvement, as it meant the shears had paused in their work, meaning Cordelia had been reached by her words. Such was their success, that her words even got Cordelia to turn around and face Elena, her wounds now in full display.

    With a soft, yet hollow tone, Cordelia at last spoke. ¡°I cannot.¡±

    A curt sentence. That was all that Elena, who met it with rapid breathing and a clenched fist, got for a response.

    Stammering, Elena said, ¡°Why not? Can¡¯t you see that you¡¯re¡ª.¡±

    ¡°The world is dangerous out there,¡± Cordelia cut in. ¡°I never want to leave these walls ever again.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± That was all Elena¡¯s mouth could spout.

    ¡°My living situation is better than most Marked. I was treated far worse before Master Thales found me and brought me here.¡±

    Cordelia gave her explanation completely matter-of-factly, yet with every letter uttered, Elena seemed to only sink further and further into despair.

    ¡°Why¡­¡±

    ¡°So while I understand your concern, Lady Elena, I must reject your offer.¡±

    ¡°Why¡­¡±

    ¡°I may not be happy here, but at least I know Master Thales will stand up for me and prevent me from being killed.¡±

    ¡°Why¡­¡±

    Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy¡­

    No other thought reached Elena¡¯s head.

    Why was she willing to subject herself to this? Why wasn¡¯t she seeking greener pastures?

    Why was she being so foolish?

    Why was she being so, so, so¡­

    ¡°Why must you always be so stubborn, Mara?¡±

    She¡¯d closed her eyes as she raised her question, and opened them instantly upon finishing it.

    It had come out instinctively, a habit born out of repeated wording of similar questions.

    That name that had just slipped out of her lips. It was not the name of the girl in front of her, who now stared in confusion with her blue eyes. And yet, she¡¯d blurted out that name without hesitation, as if her tongue had a life of its own.

    With eyes drenched in tears, anger formed within Elena¡¯s face. Such obstinate behavior had flared up something within her, as she replaced her usual pleasing look with a deathly, aggressive glare, before huffing, ¡°Fine, then. Do what you want, you stupid girl! But let me tell you one, last thing: if something happens to you, I won¡¯t share a tear, you hear me?¡±

    She turned around and stormed out of Cordelia¡¯s sight. Before she could fully leave it, she heard her name being called.

    ¡°Lady Elena, wait!¡±

    ¡°I told you not to call me that.¡±

    Elena continued walking, escaping from Cordelia¡¯s peripheral vision. She walked a decent distance, as long as her tired legs could last.

    Her fury, however, didn¡¯t last as long, as regret had fully swallowed her in the time it took her breath to regain its normal rhythm.

    ¡°I said some nasty things back there,¡± she thought out loud. ¡°I guess I couldn¡¯t help myself. That idiot¡­¡±

    The anger within Elena was given fuel by Cordelia, who¡¯d unintentionally awoken a memory deep within her. The pain of that memory was so boiling, that she couldn¡¯t maintain her emotions in check. But thinking it over, it was understandable that Cordelia would not be so eager to simply abandon her life; even if her current situation was bad, it could always be worse.

    But possessing that understanding did not mean that Elena was willing to throw the towel. Even if she may not see it now, she was sure that one day, Cordelia would realize the wonders of freedom, and take her hand.

    It may take a while, but Elena was willing to wait.

    ¡°I should apologize. It was not right for me to explode like that. Not when it wasn¡¯t really her fault.¡±

    She admitted she was, partly, at fault. She¡¯d never deny being correct in feeling wrath, but where she¡¯d gone too far was in screaming at her, all while blaming her for sins that were not her own.

    Thus, she decided to return to where that girl stood, and give out an apology.

    Before beginning to move her feet, she took a second not only for a breather, but to give a quick look at her surroundings. Albeit she was not one to care for gardening, even she could admire the beauty of the hive of roses that adorned the nearby bush. They were so plentiful and full of elegance, that their scarlet red even overwhelmed the ever-present green that the gardens were so abundant with.

    In fact, the roses¡¯ were of such a captivating color, that their red hue overtook not only her view of the garden, but also her view of the sky, her view of the entire world.

    She felt a strange peace fill her stomach, which lasted until the instant when she realized it was not the beauty of the flowers what had painted her world red.

    It was her blood.

    ¡°Hel¡ª¡±

    With blood blocking her vision and a mouth blocking any potential scream from leaking out of her mouth, Elena could now feel the sharp edge of the knife that had pierced her throat. It began traveling down her neck, before suddenly abandoning her flesh, then returning again in brisk fashion, now piercing her back.

    Seconds took hours, as the familiarity of this scenario presented itself before Elena.

    This was death. She was dying. Soon enough, she would die.

    The world began to lose its shape, becoming distorted. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, then closed them again, so on and so forth, as if trying not to fall asleep. Each time she closed them, it was with the knowledge they might not open again for the remainder of her life.

    In truth, she actually hoped they would not open.

    Death was a process that could be needlessly dragged out. Although she did live with a fear of death, once within the grasp of the arms of death, there was no need to struggle against its embrace with pointless stubbornness. Even less so, when she knew her eyes would open again eventually.

    Thus, she simply relaxed, and calmly awaited for her breath to dissipate, knowing that her attacker¡¯s efforts were a waste, that she¡¯d soon rise again.

    Yet, any attempt at calmness would be spoiled, as before her soul could vanish from her body, one last sound reached her ears.

    ¡°Elena!¡±

    The crying sound of a girl, whose blue eyes Elena could make out, even when their sight was clouded by the surrounding dark fog of death.

    With such a presence as its last sight, Elena¡¯s soul was restless.

    She couldn¡¯t speak. She couldn¡¯t hear, or see any further. By all accounts, the existence known as Elena had vanished from this realm.

    And yet, with nobody besides the endless void she found herself for a witness, Elena made a vow. A vow so strong, it resounded across the entire realm of the dead.

    Even if I have to die a thousand times¡­I will not give up. I will return, and I will save you.

 Chapter 14: Ni Una Menos

    Once again, death had come for her.

    Once again, she was drifting within the walls of that endless void. Up and down were the same, left and right were the same. She felt nothing, but she also felt everything. The existence of the one known as Elena had been vanquished, the flame of her life extinguished.

    She was an exceptional being¡ªone that not only knew death, but knew it intimately, in a perverse, unruly way.

    To the point of being able to tell when something was off.

    There were many other, unfortunate souls cursed to wander the sea of the beyond. Some who¡¯d been doing so for millennia before her, others since more recently. Some were murdered, others took their own life, and others succumbed to illness. These souls differed in many ways, but despite their differences, they all shared in common one thing.

    Death was always the same.

    It was impossible, for the embrace of death, to feel cold one moment, and then scorching hot the next. Death was death, from the first moment it reared its head until the end of time. It was a constant, a sensation that never changed. This is what made it so terrifying to mortals, but also what led to its soothing effect on the perished. To all those whose lives were wasted in a world of incertitude, there is nothing more peaceful than a chance to rest, with no need to worry about the weather, or taxes, or war, without having to concern oneself with the challenges of the next day.

    How was it, then, that Elena could feel her soul itching uncomfortably?

    On previous deaths, at the moment her heart stopped beating, her soul, like that of all mortals, understood it could not sustain spending eternity in distress. Thus, her agony was slowly filtered out, until all that remained was peace, the quiet of a soul that understood its place in the endless abyss that was death.

    This death, however, was different.

    There was no peace. She was struggling. She should feel nothing, yet she could still feel herself shaking, as she struggled against the surrounding darkness that was her world.

    It was like swimming. She, more than ever, strove to find light. Before, it was the light that sought her, forcing her to return to its realm. Now, she herself was pushing forward, trying to find a way out of the nothing she was enveloped by.

    She swam, and swam, until at last, she found light.

    What was it that led to this change in behavior in the girl who¡¯d met death before?

    Simple. There was something she needed to do.

    Someone she needed to protect.

    <hr>

    The world returned to Elena.

    The same one that¡¯d just left her. It was still early in the morning, the same blue sky reigning above. The flowers that surrounded her retained their varied colors, and the green of the garden remained ever-present on all sides.

    But while the garden was unchanging, it now found itself with the presence of an intruder.

    ¡°You filthy Marked! What are you doing here?¡±

    That voice belonged to a young man, as she could tell from its pitch. What his name was, it didn¡¯t matter. All that she cared about was that he was an enemy.

    Elena was lying prone on the ground. Her curious hands began inspecting her own body, looking for evidence of her death. To her shock, her neck was intact, while her back appeared devoid of wounds of any kind. She was like a toy that¡¯d been fixed after being played with; with a body that appeared brand new, without any proof of past damage.

    Knowing this, she knew there was an opportunity here. Sneakily, as to not attract the assassin¡¯s attention, she slowly raised her head.

    She witnessed something she feared, but thankfully, not what she feared most.

    The gardens of the Royal Palace had turned into a battleground. That of two people, both of whom clashed with weapons that they wielded with insecure hands. As they stared off, they both shivered with fear, said fear being all that prevented them from lunging toward one another, bringing this conflict to a bloody conclusion.

    ¡°Dammit, all she ordered was to kill the girl with brown hair. I didn¡¯t expect to have to sully my hands further,¡± the man complained under his breath. He was short and skinny, wearing torn-down clothes that featured holes all over the silk. His skin bordered on gray, and his hair was black like chocolate. He appeared no older than a teenager, which explained the way his hand swerved back and forth in rapid succession as he held his knife. He likely lacked experience as a proper assassin, dealing with a task far above his skills, and was now cowering at having to also get rid of a witness.

    For her part, Cordelia held the shears she¡¯d been using on the vines like she was hugging them. That tool, despite failing at qualifying as a weapon, was the reason she remained alive. Any wrong move from the assassin, and she could counter by stabbing him with the blades. To an experienced killer, this would be easy to avoid by carefully plotting the moment to strike, but this man lacked such ability.

    Thus, both would-be combatants were trapped in a deadlock, both lacking the courage to make a move.

    Elena, however, could not simply stand around and wait.

    She rose to her feet at a moment¡¯s notice, and with a sprint she didn¡¯t even know she had in her, she tackled the man who¡¯d caused her death just moments before.

    ¡°What the¡ª¡±

    He had the time to voice out a reaction, but not enough to swing his knife. Before he knew it, his body was pushed forward, breaking his focus and causing his weapon to drop to the ground.

    ¡°You¡­ you are supposed to be dead!¡± he screamed out, as his body hit the ground.

    ¡°Cordelia, let¡¯s do it!¡± Elena pleaded to Cordelia, all while performing exaggerated hand motions, suggesting she stabbed the bastard with the shears on her hands.

    ¡°Elena! You are alive?¡± Cordelia naturally pondered.

    ¡°Now¡¯s not the time for questions! We need to get rid of this guy.¡±

    ¡°G¡ªget rid?¡±

    ¡°Kill. We need to kill this guy. Geese, do I have to spell it out?¡±

    As she listened to Elena¡¯s explanation, Cordelia took a step back, diverting her gaze toward the nearby intruder, gloom seeping out of her eyes. Elena placed her hand on her own chest; she could feel herself absorb Cordelia''s dread, understanding its source.

    Cordelia shuddered at the thought of taking a life.

    ¡°Too late!¡± The young man rolled across the ground while their eyes were distracted. He picked up the knife from the floor, and lunged toward Elena. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s up with you freaks, but I¡¯ll kill you both.¡±

    Elena froze. If before death came as a surprise, now she was staring right at it, at the tip of the knife that approached her chest.

    The knife sunk deep, reaching Elena¡¯s beating heart.

    But it wasn¡¯t just the blade that did.

    ¡°Elena!¡±

    Cordelia¡¯s scream brought Elena a mixture of anger and euphoria. She regretted it had to be like this, that those blue eyes had to be witness to her weakness, to her body succumbing before the power of death. But it¡¯d be dishonest to ignore how much it pleased her to hear real, human emotion within Cordelia¡¯s shrill yell. To know it was her who¡¯d awoken something within that precious girl of blistering beauty.

    Such at awe was she, that it was enough to drown out the pain her chest experienced, which struck her all at once with the strength of a rolling boulder.

    ¡°Please¡­ stay alive¡­¡± she pleaded.

    Elena smiled at her, then collapsed to the ground, her eyes losing their luster, the windows into her soul sealing shut.

    ¡°Now stay down!¡± the man said. He voiced this with both anger and a sense of disturbance, as he couldn¡¯t help but find uncanny the warmth of Elena¡¯s smile as she was cut down. He then immediately turned eyes toward Cordelia. ¡°Now, to eliminate the witness.¡±

    At the last second, Cordelia blocked the incoming blade using the shears. However, the killer did not let up, as he followed his failure with several more swings of the knife. They appeared random, as if he was simply rapidly flailing his arm around in the desperate hope of maybe landing a blow or two on her skin. His fighting style seemed improvised, lacking the refinement and grace one would expect from a warrior.

    Cordelia put up a respectable defense, avoiding harm to herself. But even when the man left clear spots open for a counterattack, she seemed unwilling to take the opportunity.

    Without realizing it, Cordelia had reaffirmed Elena¡¯s view of her, as someone who needed to be protected. If she lacked the strength needed to dispose of the threat at hand, then this battle would never come to a conclusion¡ªat least, not to a favorable one. At best, it¡¯d just be an endless tango, both combatants teasing the idea of killing the other, but never going through with it.

    At worst, she¡¯d pay for her hesitance with her life.

    ¡°Perish, already!¡±

    His last attack, luckily for him, cut through the skin that made up Cordelia¡¯s arm. It wasn¡¯t a deep cut, yet its pain was enough to startle her and make her release her weapon, the shears flying through the air before landing on the grass. Then, with his free hand, he landed a quick jab at Cordelia¡¯s stomach, her whole body recoiling backward, before dropping to the ground.

    His knife had gotten to lick the girl¡¯s blood. However, it still craved for more, not being satisfied until it drained the life out of her. It was to sate that thirst, then, that he raised his knife yet again, its edge soon to plunge downward into Cordelia.

    And at that moment, blood was indeed spilled.

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    The green that shaped the garden¡¯s color was tainted by an outburst of red. The grass became red, as did the nearby lilies, which were spectating the entire fight. Only the sky kept its hue, albeit the way Elena looked at it would probably change forever.

    In fact, she could not see anything the same way as before.

    Not when her eyes were forever spoiled by the blood she had just spilled.

    Both she and the assassin took turns assaulting their opponent¡¯s body. She¡¯d drawn the first blood, using the dropped shears to dig deep into his back, catching him by surprise. Without even seeing the identity of his attacker, he quickly turned around and retaliated, throwing an instant slash with his knife that wasn¡¯t aimed at anything in particular. She stepped backward to dodge; her stomach was caught in the attack, and it began pouring out blood.

    When his red eyes caught sight of Elena, they began to boil with anger, and his mouth became filled with profanities. ¡°You damn bitch! You faked your death!¡± he yelled, his eyes bursting with such bloodlust they appeared ready to pop-out.

    ¡°Is that¡­ how you speak to¡­ urgh, to a lady?¡± Elena said. It would¡¯ve been a more biting clap back, were it not for the fluidity of her speech being affected by the pain that stemmed from her torso.

    It hurt. It really, really hurt. But it wasn¡¯t a big wound, and even if it were, death was but a minor setback. Thus, she grinned through the pain and readied to face the man head-on, despite her lack of battle prowess.

    He, meanwhile, held the knife forward.  He furrowed his brows in an attempt to intimidate, however his grip on the weapon was loose, betraying his intended image. This was meant as a way of controlling the space before him, telling his opponent that were they to step too close, they¡¯d bear the might of his weapon.

    It came as a shock, then, when Elena charged at him, bursting forward with a soaring roar, fearing not for the death that was written on his weapon¡¯s edge.

    His knife traveled its expected route, landing on the girl¡¯s shoulder. But albeit it possessed the might to bring death, such a small tool lacked the force needed to stop a suicidal fool¡¯s march.

    Elena performed a stab with those large scissors, both blades traveling the air before burrowing into the man¡¯s chest.

    ¡°ARGH¡­ WHY, WHY GODDESS, WHY¡­

    His screech of pain had such a penetrating sound, it could shatter the spirit of all with the misfortune of hearing it. It was no ordinary cry, no. It was evident just from listening that it carried his regrets, his despair at knowing this pain was punishment for his own sins.

    In the chaotic scramble, the man flailed his arm and stabbed Elena¡¯s chin, perhaps an attempt to take her down with him. By contrast to him, she didn¡¯t so much as scream, instead simply enduring the pain with eyes both as fervent as they were cold.

    The two remained within breathing distance, connected by the blades that were piercing their bodies.

    ¡°What the hell¡­are you?¡±

    He, who feared death, stared into the depths of Elena¡¯s eyes, eyes that lacked that same fear. Elena¡¯s face would not change even as his knife sunk deeper and deeper inside her head.

    ¡°Wh¡­aaaaaa¡­ttt¡­yyyy¡­¡±

    The man began to stammer, as if his mind was breaking from what his eyes were telling it.

    But it made sense. It was only normal for a mortal brain like his to crumble, bearing witness to such a being.

    A being that exceeded death, and stood despite it. An unnatural existence, that held no fear of death.

    It was putrid. It was terrifying. It was beyond what his mere, mortal words could explain.

    Anger. Sorrow. Dread. All those emotions visibly swirled through his eyes, as his death leaned closer and closer. His body flopped wildly, like a fish on land, a fruitless attempt to scare death away.

    One by one, every one of those human emotions began to disappear. The anger that once flooded his eyes began to slowly vanish. His sorrow stopped having meaning. And his dread over what awaited him in the beyond¡­ it could no longer exist.

    All of those pesky, varied emotions blended into one at his moment of demise.

    All that remained within his soul¡­ was peace.

    <hr>

    ¡°Elena, I need to treat you right now.¡±

    That voice.

    ¡°I¡¯ll remove the knife from your skin.¡±

    That soothing, pleasing voice.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t move.¡±

    It was a selfish, maybe even lecherous, desire. But Elena wanted to be absorbed by that voice, to die by it if necessary.

    The struggle her body was in was such, it overrode even her ability to think. She could not remember the way her surroundings, whatever they were, were shaped. And while her eyes were unharmed, she could not bear to open them, for to do so would mean to stare at her murderous handiwork, at the face of the man whose life she¡¯d cut short.

    Thus, Elena placed her faith, her entire self, in that voice. Her steps, faint and slow, were guided by that voice, how a sailor follows a siren¡¯s song. Wherever it led her, Elena would go.

    Besides, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

    ¡°Elena, please, stay still¡­¡±

    It was beyond description how much Elena¡¯s soul jumped with joy each time she heard that voice. The distress it carried within its tone only served to further pleasure her, knowing how it arose from concern about her safety.

    Her zombie-like walk reached Cordelia¡¯s petite body, and without so much as a thought, Elena spread her arms, wrapping them around Cordelia¡¯s body and pulling her into a hug, resting her chin on the young girl¡¯s right shoulder.

    ¡°What are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shhhhhh,¡± Elena silenced her, finger in mouth. ¡°Please, don¡¯t worry your beautiful little head over me.¡±

    ¡°B¡ªbeautiful?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elena said, as she softly caressed Cordelia¡¯s head and played with her silver hair, using her hands stained with blood. ¡°So long as you stay alive, what happens to me doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    A harsh sob began to leak from Cordelia. ¡°Why¡­ are you treating me like this?¡±

    Elena, who pressed her body even tighter, met those words with a wide smile and a whisper to her ears.

    ¡°Because¡­ I can¡¯t allow myself to lose you¡­ the way I lost...¡±

    The two remained in the other¡¯s embrace, exchanging tender, passionate touches, as they both bathed in the blood that soaked Elena, fruits of the conflict that¡¯d ended in their victory.

    Long seconds of peaceful bliss passed, until the moment came, for Elena¡¯s body to crumble to the ground.

    <hr>

    Long ago, there lived a girl.

    She lived in a world much like the one this story takes place in, but also different in some specific, arguably inconsequential ways. A world filled with water as much as it was filled with strife and misery, where the difference between those who suffer and those who prosper could come down to mere chance.

    She was a high school girl like any other. Mara was her name, and albeit gifted in terms of academics, she was sadly lacking in looks. Her teeth were long and her skin had an unappealing gray tint. She dressed modestly, cheap t-shirts and skirts that revealed a low-status to those with trained eyes.

    Most who saw her would not think much of her. Others, meanwhile, would pick on her, say mean things to both her back and face. Boys, in particular, would often be the cruelest, punishing her for the unforgivable crime of being an unattractive woman.

    There was one person who saw her differently, however. And one day, after school activities were done and they were about to leave, the two talked in a hidden corner near the front entrance, where no teachers could hear them.

    ¡°Please, don¡¯t do this!¡±

    ¡°Elena, I¡¯ve already decided. I¡¯m going with him. Don¡¯t try to stop me.¡±

    Deep silence served as music for their conversation, which had turned increasingly emotional. Elena pressed her hand against her chest, staring with a troubled expression as her plea fell on deaf ears.

    ¡°I don¡¯t belong here. And neither do you. At last, I¡¯ve found someone who appreciates me. So why are you, of all people, so insistent on stopping me?¡±

    ¡°Because¡­¡±

    Elena cast down her gaze, unable to provide a solid argument to counter Mara¡¯s words. She had valid reasons for concern, as the man Mara was talking about was much older and lived in another city. But she knew said reasoning would do nothing to spark change in Mara, as it¡¯d proven ineffective before.

    Most importantly, Elena could not dispute her because, in part, she thought she was right. Elena, who wasn¡¯t herself a ten in the looks department either, always yearned to be whisked away to somewhere else, somewhere far from the crummy life she led. Where she was surrounded by people who understood her, where she didn¡¯t feel like a stranger in her own home.

    So who was she to cast judgment? If she could, Elena would love to be swept off her feet, to be given an escape route from the rotten world she lived in. Why was she, then, showing such rejection to her friend¡¯s scheme?

    ¡°...because¡­ because I love you!¡±

    Elena¡¯s words struck the air with aplomb, making Mara¡¯s eyebrows raise with shock. To Elena¡¯s dismay, many more emotions followed said shock in rapid succession; first confusion, then sorrow, then finally disgust.

    ¡°What¡­ what do you mean? Are you saying you¡¯re a lesbian?¡± Mara asked, narrowing her brown eyes.

    ¡°Huh? Umm, no, I mean¡­¡± Drips of sweating began sliding down her neck, as she realized she had no ready answer to such a simple question.

    Elena¡¯d had crushes on boys before, and none on girls. From that, it was a natural assumption that her response should be a resounding ¡°no¡±. Additionally, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mara was straight, meaning no love could bloom between them.

    And yet, against all her wisdom, she gambled all her faith on those words of love, which had snuck out of her lips yet were nonetheless delivered with conviction. They were powerful, meaningful words, words that Elena had spoken with all the strength that hid inside her fragile heart.

    Under her own nose, a deep affection had formed inside Elena. It was only now, when the target of her passion threatened to leave, that those emotions truly took shape, becoming impossible to ignore.

    It was naive, but she clung dearly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, her words would prove enough. That they¡¯d ignite some kind of passion within Mara, and lead her to reconsider, that they¡¯d sway her heart such that she¡¯d change her mind, and cause her to stay.

    Elena hoped her love would save her.

    But it was not meant to be.

    ¡°Ugh, whatever. I¡­ don¡¯t have time for this. Goodbye.¡± A roll of eyes was the last expression Elena ever saw of Mara, as she turned around to leave through the school¡¯s front gate. As she trudged forward, she uttered some last words; they were no longer aimed at Elena, but they would nevertheless play ceaselessly on her mind for the rest of her life. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I thought you might understand me.¡±

    Left alone, Elena could do nothing beyond whispering to herself, as she drowned in a sea of tears.

    ¡°Why must you always be so stubborn¡­¡±

    Elena did not hold the same kind of power over Mara¡¯s heart that she did over hers. That much was certain. She¡¯d have to swallow that knowledge, as she prayed that her concerns were misplaced, that everything would turn out alright.

    A few months later, Mara disappeared.

    Her body was never found. Her family grieved her, showing her the love they¡¯d never shown her in life. The man she was rumored to run away with was never found or identified.

    Soon, her existence became nothing more than a memory, her name spoken only in passing, when listing disappearances and femicides. A value in a statistic, nothing else.

    But Elena did not forget.

    Every year, marches were held in her city, in protest of sexist violence. Thousands of women gathered in droves, filling the streets with flags and signs.

    And every year, she attended those marches, the memory of Mara being the wind beneath her wings. Despite lacking concrete proof, she knew it was this supposed boyfriend who¡¯d murdered her. She could bet her life on it.

    Every year, she¡¯d learn of that year¡¯s number of femicides. Of girls who, like Mara, lost their lives at the hands of hateful men.

    And every year, without fail¡­ the number would increase.

    No matter how hard she protested, no matter how loud she screamed, nothing seemed to change.

    There were so many girls out there who were in pain, and she was powerless to help any of them.

    Eventually, it all began to take a toll on Elena¡¯s mind.

    Why do I even bother? There¡¯s nothing I can do to help.

    Thoughts of helplessness, thoughts of despair. The constant, unfixable state of the stubborn world overwhelmed her to such a degree that she soon stopped even trying, abandoning any attempt at activism and instead locking herself in her room. There, fantastic tales of escapism filled her days with joy, stories of young women whisked away from the cruel, crushing reality of their normal lives.

    Outside, the world remained in its usual, dismal state.

    But when she sunk deep into those stories¡­ those issues seemed to vanish.

    <hr>

    As she dove through the endless sea of the dead, that memory haunted what remained of her soul, igniting it with a flame she wished she could¡¯ve had during her original life. But as she molded over it, the more she arrived at an important, but unexpected conclusion.

    There were very few similarities between Cordelia and Mara. The two couldn¡¯t be more different if they tried.

    They didn¡¯t share the same color of hair, nor the same color of eyes. Mara was fairly tall for a woman, whereas Cordelia was barely taller than a teen. Cordelia was reserved, aloof, resembling a robot before a person, whereas Mara was fiery, possessing a strong temper. And of course, Cordelia possessed a mesmerizing beauty, while Mara looked about average, if seen through a generous lens.

    But despite all those differences, thy shared a crucial aspect that overrode them all. One strong link that only Elena could spot, for it only existed within her mind.

    They were both girls that Elena wished to save.

    So long as this wish existed, Elena could not fear death. She¡¯d face any blade, gun, or lance, because so long as a hint of sorrow flowed through Cordelia¡¯s eyes, she could not give up.

    In the name of making that girl happy¡­ she¡¯d overcome even death itself.

 Chapter 15: Divine Decree

    Slowly but surely, the world regained its color. Soon after, it regained its shape.

    Beautiful walls colored like gold welcomed her back to the world of the living. A painting hanging from one of them assaulted her reborn sight; the silhouette of a woman extended her arms toward her, pulling her soul back into the world of the living.

    ¡°Cor¡­Cordelia! Where, where are you?¡±

    Elena inspected every existent direction, all in hopes of catching a glimpse of the girl for whom she¡¯d risked her life. She spared no time to make sense of her situation, to fully breathe in the air that filled her newfound lungs. There was no time to waste on such a senseless diversion. That girl, whom Elena yearned above all to protect, was the sole reason why her soul had not shattered into pieces, why it had not succumbed to the vacuum that was death. For the sake of getting to stare into those eyes, Elena could even forgo lingering on death. Such was the strength of her desperation, the extent of her will.

    Thus, she couldn¡¯t help but grimace when a husky voice informed her that her desire would remain unfulfilled for the time being.

    ¡°She is gone.¡±

    Coldly but succinctly, the figure sitting by a chair answered her question. He then performed a fake cough, and sculpted a smile onto his face.

    From Elena¡¯s point of view, his was the face of a snake acting friendly to their prey. Albeit she¡¯d never paid him much attention, his blonde hair and slender build were enough to reveal the sitting young man as Prince Charles, a man whose behavior had obtained little besides scorn from Elena.

    ¡°You¡­ Why are YOU here? And what did you do to Cordelia?¡±

    ¡°That is not something you should concern yourself with. My future wife needs not to interact with such a lowlife. Instead, we need to discuss our plans for¡­¡±

    Elena raised an eyebrow, before beginning to ignore Charles, who kept blathering on long after Elena had stopped paying attention. Her surroundings now actually came to her attention. Once again, she had awoken on a bed, except this time it was far larger, enough for two people to sleep in, and so was the general room. The bedsheets felt soft to the touch and were uniformly a crimson red, barring right in the middle where a golden crest in the shape of a sword was visible. A large window let in light and served as the gate to a balcony that oversaw the gardens below. The bed frame was made of solid gold, and there was a green jewel carved into it for further decoration.

    It was evident this room was of significantly more importance than the one she¡¯d stayed in previously, meant not for guests but rather for members of the Royal Family.

    ¡°There you go again, calling her your future wife,¡± rang a louder, booming voice that carried a scolding tone.

    Elena gazed upon its origin, and witnessed a tall man with a defined mustache and a long beard, standing in the corner of the room. He wore a blue robe decorated with rubies right underneath his neck, and by his stomach the same golden crest from the bedsheet could be spotted.

    The crown he wore on his head revealed his identity, as well as the reason for him standing there¡ªhe was no other than the King of Luzterna, chosen by the light to lead its people.

    ¡°I would like to remind you, my son, that you already have a fianc¨¦e. Miss Annalise, hailing all the way from the Meritocracy.¡± The king began to look down toward Elena, carrying the devil¡¯s judgment within his piercing almond-shaped eyes. ¡°I advise you quit wasting your time with a filthy specimen such as this. You know taking a Marked as a bride is impossible.¡±

    Elena could not avoid growling in response to the man¡¯s dehumanizing words. Not only was he speaking ill of her, but by extension, he was speaking ill of Cordelia, who too shared in the curse of the brand.

    Before she could mutter a word she might regret, however, Charles stood up and met the challenge issued by his father¡¯s words. ¡°I will not allow such slander towards Elena. Especially coming from you, who when my mother needed you most could not resist sleeping around!¡±

    At his son¡¯s accusatory tone, the king gritted his teeth and stomped the ground. ¡°Silence!¡± The man shouted, locking gazes with Charles.

    Meanwhile, in the background, Elena gave small, quick claps, while saying Ooooohhhhh like she¡¯d seen a nice play in a football match. She still didn¡¯t like Charles, but she had to admit, it was a nice retort.

    ¡°What happened between your mother and I is ancient history. It is irrelevant to our conversation.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, sweep it under the rug.¡± Charles raised his tone, beginning to sound like a spoiled child. ¡° When you go around fucking the maid it¡¯s all fine, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Charles, I told you to be silent!¡±

    Oh my, we got some family draaa¡ªma!¡±

    Elena¡¯s eyes kept flipping back and forth from one man to the next. They were watching like hungry hyenas, enjoying the scene before them that resembled a Mexican telenovela. The king¡¯s face had become red like a strawberry, flustered by his son¡¯s scratching remarks.

    Regaining ¡°Leave now, father. One day, when I run this Kingdom, you can rest assured I¡¯ll spend those days with a woman I love by my side, one whose eyes make my every morning a treat to look forward to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ugh, you were always the romantic.¡±

    ¡°¡ªunlike you, who live with naught but bitterness for the woman who dumped you.¡±

    tutututu! The sound of air horns blared inside Elena¡¯s head. She could no longer hide her amusement, as faint whispers of laughter began to slip out of her closed mouth.

    Part of that amusement stemmed from how much it shattered her perception of the man named Charles. The prince of weak build and who couldn¡¯t so much as do his hair had stood up to his father, swinging his words with the intent of delivering humiliation to no less than the king of the land. The feelings he felt for her were what had propelled his behavior; even Elena, who felt nothing but scorn for him, couldn¡¯t avoid having her heart touched by such a resolve.

    Of course, that positive impression was one of faint length. The time she¡¯d spent dead might have seemed eternal, but it wasn¡¯t enough to make her forget. Once the memories of those deplorable words, muttered by the same mouth, finished flooding back to her, the faint smile she wore became poisoned, giving way to a grimace that revealed her true opinions of the young man.

    ¡°I have heard enough of your platter for the day. If you want to take in a lover, that is your course of action to decide.¡± The king turned around, and stepped toward the door. Before stepping into the hall, he turned his head and said, ¡°Just beware¡­ you might inquire the wrath of the Goddess herself!¡±

    Both Elena and Charles became startled by the thunk of the closing door, the king¡¯s anger taken out on the innocent wood. Once the sound fizzled out, the air started growing heavy, as the two remained alone.

    ¡°Soooo¡­ where is¡ª¡±

    ¡°I told you this already. She¡¯s gone. Thales took her away, that¡¯s all I know¡±

    Elena no doubt paid attention to the information she had just gained. But what came across as more worthy of note, was the emotion Charles had worked into his response. Perhaps more accurately, the lack of emotion, as he sounded dead, defeated, worn down by some imaginary weight on his shoulders.

    ¡°Umm, are you okay?¡± Elena asked, with concern that was legitimate, despite her lacking opinion of him. It was simply her nature to want to play therapist.

    The man aimed his gaze at Elena, then smiled while he collected his thoughts. He sat back on the chair, both their heads standing at the same height. ¡°I apologize for my behavior. My father truly does infuriate me sometimes.¡±

    ¡°I understand. I can imagine having your father be the king must make him an even bigger pain in the ass than parents usually are.¡±

    Charles¡¯ eyes widened. ¡°Indeed. He really believes I¡¯m nothing more than an extension of him, a mere plaything he can shape to his will. But thankfully, books have put me on the right track.¡±

    ¡°Books?¡± Elena tilted her head.

    ¡°Yes. Fairy tales, romance stories. Are you not aware of what a book is?¡±

    ¡°Oh, nonono, trust me, I do. It¡¯s just, well¡­¡±

    For some reason, Elena had assumed he meant some sort of special type of book, one that foretold prophecies or something like that. The truth was far more mundane. He just didn¡¯t seem like the bookworm type.

    Charles laughed, then added, ¡°I know it might seem childish, for the future heir of a nation to be so enthralled with such tales. But books raised me, almost as much as my parents did. Most of what I know of the world I know due to spending hours in the Royal Library, devouring every book I could find.¡±

    Those books didn¡¯t teach you to not be racist, however.

    Despite her inner voice¡¯s snark, Elena still felt curious. His face lit up like a firework, his hand pounding his chest, as if he was straining his whole soul just by speaking. Was there honesty to the words he was filling his mouth with?

    ¡°So when I saw you, laying there on the shore, so beautiful, like a doll made of the finest clay¡­ I just knew this was it. The start of my fairy tale.¡±

    ¡°The start of your what?¡± Elena was flabbergasted. Was this guy serious?

    ¡°Indeed. I¡­ am not destined to lead.¡± He averted his gaze, before clenching his right fist. ¡°My brother was supposed to take the throne. But after his death¡­ there remains no one else to succeed my father.¡±

    ¡°...¡± Elena said nothing, as she bit her lower lip.

    ¡°Could you believe that? Me! The fuck-up of a prince. Rule an entire nation. I never¡­ I could never hope to¡­¡±

    Charles started shaking in his seat, his face acquiring a red hue.

    Elena attempted to remain silent. And while her lips were succeeding at that, her heart betrayed her intentions, as its thumping threatened to overwhelm even the sound of her own thoughts. Or perhaps, she was intentionally ignoring her thoughts, as she didn¡¯t want to accept she was having them. Having such thoughts was unforgivable, a sin that spoke to her own weak, submissive self.

    She, whose scorn for the man sitting before her couldn¡¯t be washed away even by death, was now having her judgment slightly shaken. As a gulp traveled down her thin neck, she came to the cruel realization that she, at least for this very instant, sympathized with the man named Charles. She knew that she was forbidden from feeling anything beyond contempt, so long as his words on the Marked remained fresh within her memory. Yet, something about his words cast a mirror upon her, as if she couldn¡¯t help but identify with his plight, with those words she could picture herself uttering.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°So please, I beg of you¡­ at least stand with me on the White Blade Ball.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°At least for one day, I want to feel happy. I want my heart to flutter and to be swept up by the beauty of a woman. Afterward, I promise I¡¯ll tell you where that girl is, and then let you go return to¡­that man.¡±

    Elena¡¯s eyes lit up. Contrasting his childish demeanor from before, solemnity was what accompanied his words. He appeared defeated, yet his eyes shone with an earned maturity.

    ¡°Are you for real? What happened to the whole being your wife bit?¡±

    ¡°As much as I hate to admit, my father is right. I have obligations with my country to fulfill.¡± He let out a hearty laugh, then pressed the palm of his hand on his cheek. ¡°Besides, you made your intentions pretty clear.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah. Sorry about that,¡± she said, not actually being sorry. While slapping him was perhaps a touch too brazen, she held no regrets about rejecting his proposal. Even now, she remained uneasy around him. This was the result of the values with which she¡¯d been raised, that prevented her from accepting a life under the reigning thumb of a man.

    ¡°To push further would be worthless. I can tell from the fire in your eyes. You¡¯re not the kind of woman to change.¡±

    ¡°You think so?¡±

    ¡°At first, I thought you were simply stubborn, but after further thought, I can tell you have convictions. That is something I can respect¡­ something I could never aspire to. If being Queen wasn¡¯t enough to tempt you, then I guess nothing will be.¡± Charles raised his fist, as he pressed his lips. ¡°And I will not force you into anything. At least that way, I will differ from my father.¡±

    There was an irony to the situation, which Elena noted inside her mind but Charles appeared blind to. Just after stating to have no conviction, Charles had resolved to not be like his father, to not follow his philandering ways. It was a low bar, granted, but it was a form of conviction all the same.

    Slowly but surely, a faint glimmer of respect was growing within the confines of Elena¡¯s heart.

    ¡°There¡¯s one last clause to this agreement you need to know, however.¡±

    With dread on her tongue, Elena dared to ask, ¡°What is that?¡±

    Charles inhaled deeply, then refined the sharpness of his stare. ¡°Once we part ways, you will return to being an undesirable in my eyes.¡±

    Elena¡¯s heart sank. Quickly but surely, all the respect Charles had gained from her crumbled, as it was a respect built under the pretense of forgetting. If enough time passed that she could forget his hateful words, only then could a better image of Charles begin to take shape.  Even if she intellectually understood that such was the way one like her was perceived, hearing it being put into words caused a sense of disgust that transcended her ability to process. Her whole body felt like it was pushed by wind, stemming from those green eyes that poked at her being.

    ¡°Why¡­ Why must you treat us like this?¡±

    Elena brought her clenched fist to her chest and appeared to cry, although no tears actually fell out, too clogged up within her eye sockets.

    Her question was as much of an inquiry as it was a prayer, as she above all wanted to know why. What compelled him to treat a fellow human being like this.

    What leads a man to consider themselves above another, built out of skin and bone just like he? That was a mindset she could never grasp, not in her old world nor here. It was unlikely Charles had a satisfying answer for such an impossible conundrum, but he was the only one she could ask right now.

    ¡°Because the Goddess decrees it so.¡±

    Her eyes opened, made to do so by the force of his answer, an answer she never expected to hear, for it was one that should not exist. He straight-faced gave an explanation for his racism.

    Understandably, Elena wasn¡¯t going to let it end at that.

    ¡°What do you mean? Your so-called Goddess ordered you all to be racist pricks?¡±

    Charles narrowed his eyes. ¡°You really don¡¯t know anything, do you? Well, let me give you a quick history lesson. Five hundred years ago, the Goddess of Light fought desperately against the Crow King and his forces, who threatened to engulf the world into darkness. His army was comprised not only of warriors, but also of powerful spellcasters, whose magic was so powerful, they tore the Goddess¡¯ forces asunder.¡±

    Elena listened to his story, albeit with brewing frustration. ¡°What does this have to do with¡ª¡±

    ¡°The descendants of those spellcasters¡­ they are who we now call the Marked.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she yelled, lost for words. ¡°Is that why they can use Magic?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. You do know some things¡­ In any case, such power threatened to shatter the balance of power in the continent, a threat beyond that a regular human could manage.¡±

    So, it appeared that in this world, prejudice wasn¡¯t born only from simple ignorance. Those known as the Marked were special people, who on top of the abilities inherent to humans were also able to perform feats of magic.

    ¡°After winning the war, the Goddess declared the use of Magic as a perversion, and forbid any use of magic under threat of execution, for were the Marked allowed to roam free, their superior magical skills would result in chaos across the continent.¡±

    Despite sounding like complete rubbish, Elena actually gave this notion some thought. If the power of Magic was such that normal humans could not hope to compare, then perhaps it was only logical for fear to exist. Her mind flashed back to stories like X-Men for a point of comparison, where despite what the narrative might tell, humans had plenty of reason to fear Mutants, when all it took was for one Mutant to have a bad day for half the world to explode.

    Of course, all that careful consideration stopped mattering, when she remembered that she herself was a member of those hated people. It was easy for her to forget, far easier than it should be for a woman her age. In her past life, albeit inhabiting a body lacking in many appealing attributes, she had the blessing of possessing white skin. Being looked down upon for an aspect you can¡¯t control; it was all a new nightmare for her. Were she to have experienced racism since birth, there was no doubt that she wouldn¡¯t be giving Charles¡¯ perspective even a slimmer of consideration. This was a flaw within her person that she had no choice but to acknowledge.

    ¡°The Kingdom of Luzterna was founded soon after. Those who were slaves under the Crow King and their children remained slaves under the new rule.¡±

    He told his story without any shame, uttering his words like it was a lecture on a topic without controversy, like math. It was only once those words reached Elena¡¯s ears that the hatred those words concealed bore fruit.

    Her stare was frozen solid. The walls appeared to lose their golden hue, instead painted with the color of blood. This country, maybe even this entire world, was built with dead bodies as its foundation. The anger this flared within Elena was indescribable. Her hands gripped her dress by the chest area, as if blocking her heart from leaping out.

    ¡°On the anniversary of the War¡¯s deciding battle, many balls are held in the many Cathedrals and chapels spread throughout the country. The biggest is held by the Cathedral atop Tomser¡¯s Hill, with thousands assisting from across the entire continent.¡± He sighed, then continued. ¡°As the next in line for the throne, I will be expected to give a speech and make myself known as the future king among the populace. My carefree life as a prince¡­it is soon to end.¡± He paused to straighten his gaze.  ¡°So I beg of you, please gift me one night of pleasure.¡±

    Every bone of Elena¡¯s body wanted to reject this man. To do so would be to live according to her own values and virtues. She wanted to go off, telling him in detail why everything about his mentality was wrong, why it was evil without bounds.

    But if she wanted to learn what happened to Cordelia, if she wanted to give herself the best odds of survival, then she¡¯d have to play coy.

    ¡°Listen carefully, Charles,¡± she said. Charles straightened his gaze, following on Elena¡¯s cue, who had done the same. She added, ¡°I will go with you to this ball. But know one thing.¡±

    ¡°What would that be?¡±

    ¡°I despise you.¡±

    Perhaps unfortunately for herself, Elena did not know how to play coy.

    ¡°You called me an undesirable. And perhaps you¡¯re right.¡± Elena pulled out her tongue before chuckling at her own self-dig. ¡°But let me tell you. I know of one girl who shares this cursed Mark whom I simply desire with all my soul. So I can¡¯t let you say such things.¡±

    Her words were brash, and at first glance may appear naive and lacking in perspective. But in truth, she¡¯d given great thought to her stance.

    If it was true that the Marked possessed skill beyond those of normal humans, then it might seem at first that fearing their abilities was only logical. Elena however, understood that such a supposedly logical perspective was in fact rubbish, born out of blind prejudice. So long as people like Cordelia held humanity within them, then such a belief needed to be crushed without question.

    Charles¡¯s eyebrows reacted to her sudden burst of pride that seeped out of Elena. He bit his lip, undoubtedly taken aback by being talked back, something most unusual for a royal.

    ¡°I believe your stance on the Marked¡­ it¡¯s all bullshit,¡± she said, not mincing words.

    There were few aspects of herself Elena felt real pride about. But the way she lived per the virtues instilled by her mother was one of them.

    If her read on Charles was accurate, she could likely go back on her previous refusal, taking him for her husband. Then, she¡¯d likely escape the life of danger he was threatening her with, instead enjoying a life of luxury at the palace.

    But to do so¡­to accept such a life¡­ it would mean abandoning the values that shaped her as a person.

    She could never face her mother if she committed such a crime.

    ¡°There is one thing you hit the mark on, however,¡± she said.

    He tilted his head. ¡°And what would that be?¡±

    Elena smiled, a smile so wide it could enwrap the entire room. She pounded her chest twice, then pointed at Charles with her index finger.

    ¡°That you and I¡­ once this party is over, you and I will be enemies!¡±

    Elena, filled with newfound confidence, revealed her intentions. She held no intent to play by the rules of the powerful of this world. If bastards like him reigned, she would be a rebel. Even if she was weak, she could at least find pride in standing on the right side of the fence.

    Even if I have to die a million times¡­ I will change this world!

    She had no reason to fear. She had the power to survive death, a privilege unheard of. It would be irresponsible, it would be most selfish, to have such a power and not use it to reshape the world.

    With optimism as her flag, Elena wore her virtues on her smile.

    Charles snorted and shook his head, before saying, ¡°Very well. Prepare yourself for tonight, as tomorrow we¡¯ll be enemies.¡±

    ¡°Inde¡ªwait, tonight? The ball is today?¡±

    ¡°Yes. So fit yourself into a nice dress. I don¡¯t want to see you with that old rag ever again. And take off those weird contact glasses. They harm your beauty.¡±

    As he said that, Charles got up and left the room. With his words fresh on her mind, Elena¡¯s feet hit the floor, and she leaped out of bed. She then observed what he referred to as old rag.

    ¡°This dress¡­¡±

    Right now, the cloth that dressed her was the same white dress she wore on the first day she got transported into this world. It was in perfect condition, perhaps in even better shape than it was originally, as there was no dirt to corrupt the pureness of the silk.

    When she first arrived at the castle, Charles took this dress away from her, leaving her in the nude¡ªwhich was kinda creepy, now that she thought about it. But in any case, he said he hated the dress, so it was unlikely he would order for it to be fixed up.

    Also, what was that about taking off contacts? I didn¡¯t even know those were a thing in this world.

    Those words confused her. She noticed a large mirror on the wall, and approached it. The revelation painted itself on the glass, the sight of her eyes bringing shock to those same eyes.

    ¡°They¡¯re¡­ black? Weren¡¯t they blue before?¡±

    She was trying to remember. She only got to stare at her new reflection once, the day she arrived at the city capital, on a water fountain in the middle of a plaza. So while perhaps the water distorted her perception of her eye color, it was unlikely she¡¯d make such a mistake. Especially when Charles had also implied a change in the hue of her irises.

    So the question became¡­ had her eyes been toned black somehow? Were her deaths in part to blame for this?

    Her index finger stretched out her lower eyelid, attempting to get a better look while hoping she was wrong in her mind. It looked as if her pupil had absorbed her irises, an overwhelming dark that seemed unnatural, especially when next to the snow-like quality of her skin.

    Before she could mull over the implications further, she heard loud knocks. The sound came in an easily discernible pattern. Three knocks, a long pause, then three more knocks. It reminded her ears of a ringing phone, not so much in the sound itself but in the consistency of it.

    Right next to the bed of her awakening, a large windowed double door led to a small balcony. On the other side of the glass, the figure of a small bird hovered. It lacked in feathers, skin or bone. Only its silhouette could be seen, colored by a green hue. It crashed its beak onto the window, revealing itself as the source of the knocking.

    Enthralled by the creature, Elena opened the doors, and as soon as she did, the bird lost its shape, and a cold wind blew at her.

    ¡°Wowowow.¡±

    Her skin crawled at the ensuing breeze, but her ears were not blessed by the expected swoosh. In its place, the wind seemed to be whispering a message.

    Attend the White Blade Ball tonight. I¡¯ll be looking for you.

    Once the message concluded, so did the wind, the temperature rising back to the way it was before. Elena, who remained standing, was amazed.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­ Miles¡­¡±

    The wind had delivered his words to her. She didn¡¯t know how he¡¯d done it, but even now, trapped in the castle, he¡¯d made her feel less alone.

    She smiled as she watched over the gardens below. The dread for the night had turned into eager anticipation.

 Ch 16: Beyond Forgiveness

    The dawn of the evening arrived, and with it, a picture most disagreeable.

    ¡°Why is she coming?¡±

    Venomous spit uttered by the mouth of an exasperated viper. That was the reception Annalise gave Elena upon learning the latter would be coming along to the White Blade Ball.

    The voluptuous woman was painted in red from head to toe; red hair, red lipstick, red dress, red heels. The dress accentuated her hips and left exposed her long arms and legs. It was far more sexually charged than one would expect from a good-mannered aristocrat, and Elena could not disguise the lechery that fueled her gaze.

    ¡°What are you staring at?¡± Annalise protested with narrowed eyes, covering her cleavage with her arm.

    Dang, she does have a nice body. Shame she¡¯s such a bitch.

    Observing the female body with a mixture of both envy and lust. That was a common practice for Elena in her previous life, who intuitively knew she could do so without arousing suspicion the way a man would.

    Of course, her feeling envy for another¡¯s body right now was only due to old habits, as her current body could look just as erotic as that of Annalise. Maybe it was because she didn¡¯t care as much for the event as she did, or maybe it was just the way she liked to dress back then informing her attire today, but Elena dressed far more modestly in comparison. A light-brown, puffy dress with long sleeves. She too wore heels, but they were far less tall and chosen for comfort over appeal.

    Then again, maybe I could fix her.

    ¡°Elena is coming because I want to. That¡¯s it.¡± Charles said, attempting to shut his fianc¨¦e up. He was straight and to the point with her, almost cold. He failed to show much affection for the woman he was one day meant to marry.

    Annalise, who already only rarely blessed Elena with her gaze, cast aside her eyes while crossing her arms. ¡°Am I really supposed to spend such an important festivity with the likes of her?¡±

    ¡°You can stay if you want,¡± Elena joked.

    ¡°Hmph. To think I will allow my fianc¨¦ to dishonor my name, taking such a foul being in my place.¡±

    With crossed arms and a raised chin, Annalise expelled an air of both arrogance and stubbornness. She lightly stomped the ground with her heels, to show she was firm on her stance.

    Both ladies growled like hounds, their ire approaching their boiling point. It was only inevitable for an insult to soon break free out of one of them.

    Before that could come to pass, the sound of steps would be what would break that deadlock.

    ¡°Please, Annalise¡±¡ªCharles strolled up to her, then slightly raised her chin with his right hand, while his left arm enwrapped her hips¡ª ¡°you have no reason to fight with Lady Elena. You know my heart beats only for you.¡±

    Having her soul plunged into by those green eyes of the Prince, Annalise deflated, her speech beginning to falter.

    ¡°A¡ªa¡ªapologies, your Highness.¡± Annalise, who seemed deeply love-struck, suddenly glanced at Elena with a devilish grin on her face.

    That pride quickly gave way to shock, once she caught sight of Elena, who showed no signs of displeasure at the currently unfolding events. Instead, she had a smirk of her own. She even gave an ironic thumbs-up.

    Maybe they deserve each other.

    ¡°Oh, there he is.¡±

    The three of them were standing by the entrance to the Royal Palace. They were waiting for Mr. H to deliver them to the Cathedral where the ball was meant to take place. Driving the same horseless carriage from the last time she¡¯d left the Palace, Mr. H parked right before the trio and got off, opening both the front and back doors.

    ¡°Prince Charles, Miss Annalise, Lady Elena, welcome aboard.¡±

    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind bringing a Marked along in your vehicle.¡±

    ¡°Annalise, you know how Sir Hitler is, doesn¡¯t look down on anybody,¡± said Charles, to the sound of Elena cringing.

    ¡°Well, considering how badly it fared last time a Marked got inside, perhaps he should be more wary of who he lets ride his car.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Mr H shouted with the full strength of his lungs, ¡°I have no concerns for such trivialities. After all, the Royal Family provides me with the best insurance the Kingdom can buy!¡±

    The carriage had some parts without proper paint, and was filled with scratches all over the place. This was probably the result of being targeted by those protesters, as well as being caught in the crossfire of Cordelia¡¯s spell. Or crosswater, in this case.

    ¡°Now, get on. Let¡¯s not make the Goddess wait.¡±

    ¡°sigh Very well.¡± With the prim and grace appropriate of a noble, Annalise got inside first, raising her bare legs.

    Before he could follow, Elena elbowed Charles on the arm. ¡°Wow, quite the snazzy performance there, Mister Prince Charming.¡±

    ¡°tsk. I only played a character from a book I¡¯ve read. She might be a bigger hassle than most, but no woman can resist a Prince out of a novel.¡°

    ¡°Didn¡¯t seem that successful on me.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. And that¡¯s what I find so intriguing about you, Elena. How you¡¯re able to resist me.¡±

    He spoke with fierce passion, worthy of the lead of a romance novel. Despite this, Elena inspected his body from top to bottom with narrow eyes and a grimace.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Maybe if your pants fit you properly, I¡¯d be more interested.

    Albeit he wore a fancy black suit and was well-groomed for once, he failed to measure to Elena¡¯s idea of a proper Prince. His pants were a tad too short, leaving some skin exposed right before his shoes. Elena was not usually one to get caught up in such small details, but when thrown into his otherwise posh look, those little nitpicks stood out like a sore thumb. Charles¡¯ Prince Charming persona was a farce; and as long as the man remained the way he was, a farce would be all it¡¯d ever be.

    ¡°Anyway, shall we proceed?¡± he said, inviting her to get inside the vehicle with a motion of his arm.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t waiting for your order!¡±

    With a roll of her eyes, Elena sat on the backseat, next to the pouting Annalise. Muscle memory took over, as the motion of her body was well-practiced. It was an amusing thought. In a world of fantasy and magic such as this, the mundane often became the oddity. Thus, there was something uncanny in the fact that she was basically getting ferried somewhere by car; despite resembling a carriage, the lack of horses to pull meant what she was sitting was, by definition, an automobile. The seats were even arranged the same way as a modern car, two seats on the front and a longer one at the back.

    ¡°Let¡¯s head out,¡± Charles ordered Mr. H, who sat to his left with his hand on the wheel.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t the King gonna come with us¡ªOUCH! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU¡±

    The wheels hadn¡¯t begun turning yet, and there was already conflict in the backseat. Wearing a pompous look, Annalise had just slapped Elena with the side of her fan.

    ¡°Ignorant leech! Are you so ignorant as to not know the customs of this Holy Land? The Monarch must arrive first, climbing up the hill on foot. That is the Ritual of the White Blade.¡±

    Annalise concealed her sneer behind her open fan, but Elena could nonetheless picture it to the detail. She growled in response, giving a glare that burned with the might of a thousand suns.

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk about being a leech, Ms. Noble who never worked a day of her life!¡±

    A brief silence. ¡°Oh no, here we go again¡­¡± Charles muttered under his breath.

    The pattern of a flower that was carved into the fan took its leave, as Annalise closed it, the frame of the closed fan acting as a wall that separated each of her eyes, each burning with the intensity of rubies. ¡°Excuse. You dare speak libel of me, who rose among the ranks of the Meritocracy? You, who was raised by rats, making a living out of the spoils of hard-working folk, dare lecture me on the virtue of my work?¡±

    Words made of hot gas. That was all Elena¡¯s ears could make out. Even more so than Charles, Annalise was a person whose image had already been crafted in Elena¡¯s mind; that of a snotty noble, who claimed superiority just for being born on a golden cradle. So long as she wore that pristine skin that had never seen a day of work, there was no argument her putrid mouth could spout able to change that picture.

    ¡°Ladies, that¡¯s enough!¡± Charles cried out. He sighed, then added, ¡°Goddess, this will be a long night.¡±

    It was your prerogative to bring us both.

    Both shushed, they looked away, each in the direction of their respective windows. If arguing was disallowed, then cold indifference would be what they¡¯d show one another. No other possibility remained, as both sets of eyes considered their opponent to be unworthy of their presence.

    The vehicle began to move, soon exiting the Upper district of town. Despite not knowing the layout of the city, it was obvious when the realm of the common folk began. The architecture she saw at first was elaborate, palaces of multiple floors and with lustrous gardens. Once they reached poorer areas, the houses became smaller, and they often lacked in proper maintenance, with stellar features such as broken windows or missing doors.

    Elena remained with her gaze glued on the world beyond the door. Last time she got on a carriage, she¡¯d been too occupied with the precious girl who accompanied her within the walls of the vehicle. Now, the half of the seat to her left was a void that could not be stared into, else she risked boiling alive by the fastidious presence that called itself a woman. Therefore, she passed the time by observing the sights the capital city had to offer.

    Strategically, it was also a good idea. She needed to learn all she could about this world if she hoped to survive¡ªnot that she needed to survive, but minimizing death was always a plus.

    ¡°There are a lot of fountains,¡± she pondered out loud.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± answered Mr. H. ¡°It was a big achievement of Your Majesty¡¯s reign to install at least one of those on every single plaza in the capital. Now most of the city has access to clean water.¡±

    ¡°Really? Do they clean them very often ?¡± Elena asked, thinking back to the dreadfully dirty waters of her world¡¯s fountains.

    ¡°Ho ho ho!¡± Mr. H visibly cracked up, maintaining his grip on the wheel. ¡°The fountain manages that on its own.¡±

    ¡°Wait, really?¡±

    ¡°A waste of Water Crystals, if you ask me,¡± muttered Annalise, still staring out the window. Albeit she¡¯d given her opinion, she had no desire to participate in the conversation. She was simply giving voice to her view, as she deemed herself incapable of having a perspective without worth.

    Mr. H continued his explanation. ¡°The Water Crystal inside powers a mechanism that removes the impurities found within saltwater. The infrastructure can be expensive, but it provides a boost to the people¡¯s quality of life. If the latest census is to be believed, all homes in the capital have access to potable water.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s incredible!¡± Elena remarked.

    ¡°Of course! And what¡¯s more amazing, is that its widespread use was spearheaded by none other than Your Highness himself!¡±

    Elena blinked rapidly, in confusion. ¡°Wait, are you serious?¡± She glanced at Charles¡¯ back, mouth wide open.

    The prince brought his palm to his hand.¡°Silence!¡± Charles scolded.

    Elena was bewildered, yet also happy. If his words were true, this kingdom had managed to develop an efficient system for giving its citizens potable water¡ªwith Charles being the one to thank for it.

    ¡°Come on now, your Highness! Is it really out of place for a servant like myself to hand out some well-earned praise?¡±

    ¡°I am not King. All praise should fall upon my father.¡±

    As those two argued back and forth, there was a contradiction that began to build within Elena¡¯s heart. A contradiction that did not actually exist, as both facts were not in opposition to one another. But within her mind, they were two pieces of knowledge that fused like water meshed with oil.

    This world, which cursed some of its children with an evil as heinous as slavery, also featured virtues that excelled those of her original world.

    Ahead in some ways, behind in others. To one who thinks of progress as a linear climb, such a conception was beyond real.

    Elena shook her head. She realized it was presumptuous to reach conclusions. This was, after all, the Capital City of the Kingdom. Who knew if these conditions were equal throughout the rest of the land. And besides, no amount of infrastructure, no amount of pretty roads, could make up for the worst injustices that humanity could muster.

    But regardless, there was something euphoric, in knowing her view on things could be challenged, if even slightly.

    Her hollow eyes stared at the back of the seat in front of her. There, Charles was sitting with his forehead with the glass. She couldn¡¯t see his face, but the solemnity of his view was still evident.

    Maybe I could even change my mind on¡­

    Before her thought could even finish, her eyes diverted on their own onto Annalise, as if possessed by a demon. Coincidentally, their unspoken truce seemed to have come to an unspoken end, as their gazes, which should never have crossed, challenged each once again.

    No. Some people are beyond forgiveness.

    That was the conclusion she¡¯d arrived at, drawing on those snake¡¯s eyes for evidence.

    There were people in this world she could simply not see eye-to-eye with. Whose hearts were impure, full of a malice only humans could muster.

    This was a truth she had to remember; to sway from that path meant to abandon who she was, her ideals that were hers and hers alone.

    With that reflection under her breath, she recalled her memories of Charles, and reaffirmed her stance on them.

    I fucking hate these people.

 Chapter 17: The Ball

    Their trek across the city was one full of both varied and similar sights. Despite the differences in status, most houses shared a commonality; all were decorated with the same flag, featuring two black stripes sandwiching a white one. Within that middle one, the outline of a rapier could be made out. Faint purple lines formed something of a circle around it, as if the blade was being defended from the darkness of the nearby hue.

    It was, honestly, a bit of a boring design, a true affront to vexillology.

    The streets also changed their tune to reflect the holiday. Those wandering the streets wore bright clothing, as if wielding the might of the sun in their clothes. They were attires that screamed ¡°Religious Event¡±, long garbs that probably made it easy to trip over. Everybody was perfectly, uniformly white, any ounce of impure color surgically removed¡­ well, except for the occasional freak wearing a mask resembling a beast, complimenting it with dark tunics.

    ¡°It¡¯s so strange to see people in costume right in the middle of the Society of Light,¡± Elena commented, making an anime reference few would get even in her own world.

    The White Blade Ball was not just a simple event for the Royals. It was in fact just one small part of today¡¯s celebrations.

    On this day, five hundred years ago, the Goddess had put an end to the tyranny of the Crow King¡ª known also through other titles, such as the Death God, the Ruler of Death, or even just the somewhat generic Demon King.

    In any case, it was a date worth of massive celebration, to commemorate the day of the War of the Barrier came to an end. The land where the Goddess gathered her forces was treated as a Holy Land, and from there, the Lightwielding Kingdom of Luzterna was born.

    ¡°It¡¯s common for folks to disguise as Kabeasts and attempt to frighten children,¡± Mr. H. explained. ¡°I don¡¯t think that is part of the Goddess¡¯ orders, but hey, if people find it fun, who am I to judge!¡±

    The drive carried on, until eventually, they left the confines of the city. Buildings vanished, and green plains took their place. Large patches of farmland could be spotted, droves of cows and sheep scattered around, taking bites out of the growing pasture. Most eye-catching were the large machines found near the stables, about the same height as those. They were made of deep-gray steel, with cylindrical tubes that flowed diagonally downward into the earth. In the middle, there appeared to be a crystal emanating a brown aura.

    Elena wanted to ponder what their use was, but instead she made an assumption and reserved her query for a later date. She¡¯d already asked enough questions for now, and besides, she felt confident her guess was correct.

    Much like the vehicle she was sitting on was powered by Wind Crystals, those machines must be using a similar source of energy to help with raising cattle and growing produce. From the brown hue and the fact the machine was connected to the ground, she figured those crystals could channel the power of the Earth.

    So far, this world had Earth Crystals to work the soil, and Water Crystals to purify water. She¡¯d also seen Miles use Fire Crystals to engulf the world aflame, and of course there were Wind Crystals that gave objects motion. Magic spells also existed, and although she¡¯d only seen Cordelia cast Water Magic, surely there were spells that corresponded to the remaining elements.

    Were there any more? Elena couldn¡¯t help but wonder what further secrets this world had in store.

    Suddenly, she felt as if her seat had done a hop. After about 20 minutes of running a straight road, the carriage began ascending. They had arrived at the famous Tomser¡¯s Hill, and were now going up the trail that led up to their destination. The road was thin, enough for one vehicle to pass through and nothing more. Mr. H, hands on the wheel, steered to the left sharply. That was the skill a driver needed to transit these roads, else it meant careening off a cliff.

    Despite the precarious situation, Elena remained calm. She¡¯d taken many excursions back in her old world that consisted of similar scenarios, her eyes fixated on the window as their tour guide drove on mountainous terrain like it was a parking lot. It wasn¡¯t a perspective everyone shared, but when it came to driving, she¡¯d rather sit by and let someone else take the wheel, relieving her of any and all control over her fate as she instead focused on the scenery. Besides, with her power, she¡¯d be fine anyway¡ªit¡¯s not like she cared about anybody sitting with her.

    Thus, as they approached another turn and a new frame, before covered by the hill itself, revealed itself, her eyes became fixed on the upcoming view.

    It was nothing like she expected.

    Beyond the window, there was a large amalgamation of trees, stretching out in a crowd as far as the eye could see. That itself wasn¡¯t of note¡ª all of them being dead was. Most were bald of leaves, and the few that weren¡¯t had any remaining green tainted by the black of ash. The land they stood on painted a similar dreary picture, scorched of any life it once held and replaced with a dull, cold gray.

    It was a dead land; a part of the world itself that had perished, and she was looking at its corpse. Like a painting, it was like a pocket dimension where time stood still, devoid of motion, devoid of blowing wind. The land itself cried tears, tears of dismay at what it had become.

    Elena stretched her hand out, coming in contact with the glass, her thick eyebrows raised in disbelief.

    ¡°What happened here?¡±

    ¡°It was a casualty of the War of the Barrier. The Demon King made the land unusable.¡±

    When thinking of victims of war, the mind does not usually default to thinking of land as one. But if Charles¡¯ words were truth, it seems the Earth bore the scars of the conflict.

    ¡°The blessing that the Earth God gave us¡­ it was ripped away from the lands beyond the barrier. Now, no life can sprout within the Forbidden Lands.¡±

    Charles spoke solemnly, with real weight given to his words. He let out a deep sigh.

    ¡°Apologies for my attitude. Usually, war only lives through the images our brains paint from reading books. So to witness its consequences through my very eyes¡­ no matter how many times I see it, it never stops making my skin crawl.¡±

    Lands where no life could sprout. Soil where no food could grow. That was what the War of the Barrier had left the continent with.

    Elena gulped, letting the impact of what she was seeing sweep over her brittle body.

    <hr>

    About a few minutes passed, and their trip filled with uncomfortable silences and people who didn¡¯t want to be there had come to an end. Atop the hill, a large cathedral awaited them¡ªand right outside it, crowds of people.

    They all were dressed extravagantly. The women of course wore a variety of colorful and elaborate dresses, but perhaps most interesting were the men. Albeit some were clad in straightforward, elegant black suits, others carried ridiculous golden garbs that stretched all the way down to their feet, probably difficulting their step. Those same men also carried what appeared to be rosaries¡ªalbeit with the shape of a blade, rather than a cross. Atop the cathedral, the large figure of a similar-looking blade could be seen, its handle gripped by the sky itself. This resemblance was unlikely to be a mere coincidence¡ªthose men were likely members of the clergy.

    Umm, shouldn¡¯t they all be inside?

    As she pondered that, Mr. H. opened the door. Elena, who was leaning her body on it absentmindedly, was caught off-guard and made her glorious entrance by¡­ plummeting face-first to the ground. Gasps and curious stares were thrown her way at the sound of the ensuing thud.

    Annalise, for her part, wasted no time. She, who was the very picture of nobility, decided not to wait for Mr. H. to open the opposite door. Instead, she slid her behind across the seat and left in the same direction as Elena; to get off the carriage, she planted her tall heels on Elena¡¯s back, briefly crushing her with her weight, all while wearing a mischievous smile.

    ¡°We have arrived on time,¡± Annalise said, pulling out her fan such it covered her red lips.

    In the middle of eating dirt, Elena let out a ¡°Fuck¡­ you¡­¡±.

    ¡°Annalise, Elena, stop playing around.¡± To Charles¡¯ orders, the two of them stood next to one another, Elena swiping the dust off her dress. Suddenly, they heard someone call for them¡ªwell, for one of them.

    ¡°Lady Annalise, you are here.¡±

    ¡°Oh great, it¡¯s the Thing A Through C Patrol.¡±

    The targets of Elena¡¯s snark were a trio of young women, whose names did not matter. They were Annalise¡¯s flunkies, and that was all they were. People only through strict definition, mattering in this story as much as set-dressing did in a movie.

    ¡°And the Marked is also here?¡±

    ¡°How is she even alive¡ª¡±

    ¡°Silence, you fool!¡±

    The slap of Annalise¡¯s fan came down fast and hard upon the spine of one of the members of her troupe, who Elena had decided to refer to as Thing C.

    ¡°Ehem. Anyway, Prince Charles, shall we go ahead and meet with your father?¡± she said grabbing his arm. She was playing it cool, but intermingling her words with fretting glances at Elena¡¯s way. Unfortunately for her, she was failing to deceive anyone. Elena responded to that anxious gaze with a roll of her eyes and crossed arms, which served to cause further blemishes on the mask of confidence Annalise was portraying.

    This bitch hired the assassin, didn¡¯t she?

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    She lacked in proof, but she had the intuition to make that claim. The killer she¡¯d had to fight off must¡¯ve been hired by Annalise herself. She hadn¡¯t made many other enemies in this world, so unless her body belonged to someone really important, there was really no one else who would want her dead.

    It was a cold scheme¡ªone truly worthy of one with deserving the title of ¡°Villainess¡±.

    Being the one transported from Earth, Elena had guessed that if anyone was to play the part of Villainess, it would be her. That was the way it worked in the stories she used to read: a woman from the real world is reborn as the antagonist of a story she read. But in truth, when faced with true wickedness, such an assumption revealed itself as nothing but presumptuous, for her heart lacked the evil such a role required. Ordering someone dead; such a contemptible act was far beyond her.

    ...then again¡­

    As her mind pondered if she could kill someone, a realization drew in¡ªshe was no better. The very assassin who¡¯d come for her head ended up losing his life at her hands. Granted, it was all in self-defense, but what her reasoning was didn¡¯t change that the result was the same.

    Death.

    No matter how she spun the scenario, how much or how little detail the scene had within her recollections, the truth refused to change. A man was killed, by someone who never believed they¡¯d be capable of such a deed.

    Giving into the adrenaline, however, she cast aside any objections she had to killing¡ª no, actually, they were never cast aside. It was more accurate to say they never even flashed her mind. Driven by the eyes of Cordelia, the girl whose eyes had enwrapped her very being, Elena soldiered through any doubts her conscience might have raised, and plunged that blade into the man¡¯s eyes with unthinking cruelty.

    She perished as a result of the battle, but for the sake of Cordelia such a price was worth paying for. But death did still have an effect on her. Swimming through its depths let her forget, if only briefly, the impact of that battle, the way the man screamed in agony, the fresh blood that splashed onto her lips. Bathed by the light of life, now she actually could reminisce and clearly visualize the damage her actions had caused. The memory of spilling blood made her stomach turn, while the atmosphere felt as if it froze where she stood.

    ¡°Lady Elena, is everything all right?¡±

    Blinking rapidly, Elena was brought back to reality. A masculine voice as monotonous as it was threatening, she immediately identified who it was that was calling her name.

    ¡°Sir Thales! You are here too.¡± Elena showed some surprise in her expression, but then her face straightened, and she cut to the chase. ¡°Where did you hide Cordelia, you bastard?¡±

    ¡°I am afraid I cannot answer that question.¡±

    The Captain of the Royal Knights, Thales Lockgood, bowed before Elena, seemingly the only one to make note of her presence. They both stood isolated from everyone else, as Charles and Annalise had gone ahead. ¡°I am honored to receive you and Your Highness tonight. Although, I am surprised Lady Annalise is also here.¡±

    ¡°Well, ask your boss. He¡¯s the one who insisted we both come here.¡± After the brawl the previous night at the tavern, Elena was understandably indifferent to his knightly demeanor.

    ¡°Tsk. Seems the apple doesn¡¯t fall too far from the tree.¡±

    They both exchanged chuckles¡ªmuch to Elena¡¯s surprise. Thales, who had shown nothing but calculated stoicism, had just thrown some smack at Charles¡¯ way.

    Raising his chin and staring at Charles¡¯ back, Thales continued. ¡°I feel sorry for the both of them. Forced into a marriage neither wants. Especially Lady Annalise, forced to be a child bearer and nothing more.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯d be much more than that anyway,¡± Elena blurted out. She nearly bit her tongue, realizing it might come across as a tad misogynist, but on days when her tongue worked faster than her brain, there was little she could do to stop it.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I cannot share such a judgment. Nobody who rises among the ranks of the Meritocracy is deserving of so little. Yet that is the way this land rules her life must be.¡±

    Despite holding some resentment, Elena observed Thales with interest, as the man displayed consternation within his frown.

    ¡°She¡¯s been groomed all the way from birth to be the Prince¡¯s wife. For one born in the Meritocracy, where those who show effort are meant to prosper, such a destiny must feel like an insult.¡±

    A walking uterus. That was the role reserved for women across the Kingdom of Luzterna¡ªno, across the entire continent. As Thales explained, it is expected for girls who turn 18 to abandon any and all desires, and to marry so they could bear children.

    Slaves to the whims and desires of their husbands¡ªand this was the fate of those who weren¡¯t ACTUAL slaves, whose situation was often even worse.

    Yeah¡­ I¡¯d rather not think about it right now.

    Being both a Marked and a woman, Elena was caught at the crossroads of both kinds of discrimination. At first she grinned her teeth, perturbed by the revelation, but she then shook her head and put her thinking on hold for a bit. If she let the gears of her brain clank too loudly, she risked sinking fully into despair, a prospect that was not helpful to anyone.

    Besides, there was an event to celebrate¡­ not that she had any idea what any of it entailed, but still.

    ¡°Let us begin with the Ceremony.¡±

    The entrance to the Cathedral was led into by a group of steps, adorned with a carpet the color of gold. Atop the steps, stood Charles, his father the King, whom she¡¯d seen earlier that day, and next a womanly she didn¡¯t recognize. She wore a long, sterile white robe and a black hat that covered her face, barring her mouth and chin. Why she was wearing something that obstructed her vision, Elena did not know.

    ¡°Tonight, my brothers, we are gathered to honor the Goddess¡¯ victory over the evil one, and  her forging of the very nation we stand on.¡±

    Cheers from the audience were the reception to her speech, which was deliberate and oddly lacking in length. Her voice was robotic, as if any and all emotion had been stripped away. It reminded her of Cordelia, back when they first met, only somehow even more dull.

    At the speech¡¯s conclusion, the King drew a rapier out of his scabbard. It was hard to make out the details from far away, but it resembled the blade found on the Kingdom¡¯s Crest. Likely a replica, but seeing how this was a Royal, it being the real deal was not out of the question. In any case, he handed it to the woman, who turned around to face the Cathedral¡¯s large wooden doors and pointed the sword¡¯s sharp end toward the heavens.

    ¡°Now feast. Feast on the banquet the Goddess has prepared for you. Revel in your gluttony, for tonight the Goddess casts her eyes shut on sin. That is your just reward, for allowing your blood to be shed under her command.¡±

    Ringing bells made a melody, which boomed across the air all the way to the edges of the capital city. That sound announced the coveted time had come; the brown that served as the doors¡¯ hue gave way to a golden glow. Slowly, the doors began to open, welcoming visitors to rush in.

    ¡°Let us step inside, Lady Elena,¡± Thales said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find joy in all the food the Goddess has prepared for us.¡±

    ¡°The what has what now?¡± Elena questioned, scratching her head at his statement. ¡°Should I expect to meet this Goddess of yours inside there with an apron and a spatula?¡±

    Even Thales, whose stern demeanor usually rejected the prospect of showing emotion, let out a brittle laugh. He further expounded, ¡°You are mistaken, for the Goddess does not dwell on this Earth. Her Light Magic is what blesses us with a fruitful banquet. Every year, on this date, the doors to every church in the Kingdom open, allowing all citizens to eat to their hearts¡¯ content.

    ¡°Wait, so the churches remain closed the rest of the year? Then how about¡­¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± At her pause, Thales narrowed his eyes.

    ¡°N¡ªNothing!¡± Elena was thinking back to her time with Lucia, and how the bard managed to open the door with a spell. However, seeing how that girl was a Marked, it was better to play it safe and not say anything.

    ¡°Anyway, why not have a bite?¡± He gestured her forward with his arm.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Using magic to generate food seems a bit sketchy¡ª WAIT, IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?¡±

    On top of a table lay several plates filled with a wide variety of mouth-watering dishes. Some standouts were boiled turkey drenched in a bittersweet sauce, chicken wings mixed with finely cut carrot slices, and several different types of salads¡ªyet none of them mattered. Elena dashed forward, shoving any fool in her way that stood between her and her goal.

    ¡°Oh, ham-and-cheese sandwiches, how I missed ya!¡±

    She spoke to her food like it was sentient before taking a bite out of it. The plate was quite full compared to the others containing the more elaborate dishes, but she was certainly not going to complain. She was a simple girl, who preferred a light snack over a full-course meal if she was assisting an event like this. Especially when the sandwich tasted this good.

    ¡°Yummy! It has just the right amount of mayonnaise to not feel too dry.¡± As she finished swallowing, another thought approached her. ¡°Wait, mayonnaise. There is mayonnaise in this world¡­dang. There goes one potential business venture out the window.¡±

    Many stories she read involved people from Earth bringing inventions over to the new world they were transported to. Often, mayonnaise was one such thing brought over¡ªokay, it was almost always mayonnaise. But it seems this world was already knowledgeable in the ways of mayonnaise.

    Then again, do I even know how to make mayonnaise?

    She laughed internally, realizing her genius backup plan had a crucial flaw anyway.

    Her good mood was cut short, as she noticed something was off.

    All of a sudden, all surrounding eyes had become aimed toward her. Was it because she was just talking to a sandwich? She WAS acting strange, so such reactions would only be natural, but did her voice really stand out that badly in the clutter of chatter that composed the Cathedral¡¯s sound? Was it simply due to crumbs of bread being scattered all across her dress, shattering any illusion of glamour her attire was meant to convey?

    No, there was a deeper reason for all the stares.

    ¡°I will make her my wife!¡±

    That proclamation was uttered underneath a statue of a large, womanly figure. In other words, with the Goddess herself as his witness, Charles stated his intentions while pointing at Elena.

    A replied slipped out of the shaky lips of the woman from before. ¡°Such a notion¡­denied.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ I am tired of listening to what some woman with a bucket on her head says.¡±

    Gasps were heard from every direction. The King, who stood nearby, told Charles, ¡°My son, you cannot speak like that to the Pope.¡±

    ¡°I shall speak how I want,¡± Charles carried on with his tantrum. ¡°Tonight, the people of this kingdom were meant to learn of my true self. Well, here I am!¡± He flailed his arms wildly. ¡±I am not one to submit to tradition. I will marry this woman, Marked or otherwise.¡±

    Further gasps were heard, as people learned of Elena¡¯s identity.

    Did you really need to mention that, you idiot?

    Idiot and a liar. Elena had arranged to assist the White Blade Ball with him, all in exchange for being told Cordelia¡¯s whereabouts and being set free. Yet now, he was shouting to the wind his intention of making her his wife. The sleazy prince was going back on his word.

    ¡°Sir Charles, are you really speaking the truth?¡± Annalise called out from the crowd, in disarray.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Charles affirmed solidly. ¡°I will marry the woman known as Elena, and there¡¯s nothing you, or my father, or the Pope can do about it!¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t there someone you forgot to ask?¡±

    Elena¡¯s eyes sparkled at the sound of the voice that had just cut in.

    A loud whoosh overtook sound itself. Charles, whose instinct told him to utter insults as a response, had his breath swept away by the sudden hurricane.

    One of the guests, dressed in a suit, took center stage and swung the blade by his hip. In the blink of an eye, all the remaining guests were knocked over, powerless before the harsh winds. The man in a suit was not affected of course, as the wind that ruled over the Cathedral was no natural disaster, but rather an extension of the man himself.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need this anymore,¡± he said, removing his suit, revealing the jacket of a pirate. He glared at Charles, pointing his rapier¡¯s edge, and added, ¡°As for you¡­ you don¡¯t need any woman in your life for the time being. So apologies, Your Highness, but Elena is coming with me!¡±

    The sly smirk of a rogue, accompanied by the beautiful eyes and smooth skin of a prince. Those were the features that defined the man whom Elena hoped would come to her rescue.

    The male lead of this story, one could say.

    ¡°Miles!¡±

 Chapter 18: The Desires of a Man

    ¡°You!¡±

    Two young men, one leading a life of Royalty, the other one of piracy, exchanged gazes under the Cathedral¡¯s ceiling.

    ¡°You are the one Thales told me about¡­¡± Charles slowly rose to his feet, hands up.

    ¡°And you are the worthless prince everybody¡¯s always gossiping about. I¡¯d say it¡¯s an honor to meet you, but in truth, I¡¯d rather we skip the talk.¡±

    Miles¡¯ eyes flared. It was impossible to read even an ounce of the somewhat shy man from before. Wielding his rapier was what caused this change in temperament, his mind only having room for battle.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± chimed in Thales from behind, unsheathing his own weapon, ¡°allow me to take care of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Silence!¡± Charles exclaimed, still under the careful watch of Miles¡¯ blade. ¡°This will not be allowed to stand. Nobody will take Elena from me!¡±

    From the side of his hip, he began to reach for a scabbard he kept concealed. Before he could, wind blew, and he was knocked down, by the force of a literal kick in the butt.

    Miles rolled his eyes, not having any of it. He extended his arm toward Elena, and said, ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get out of here.¡±

    Tears began to seep out of her eyes. ¡°You came¡­ I knew you would¡­¡± She began to extend her own, shaking hand, but suddenly got pulled backward.

    ¡°It seems you have come for a second round.¡± The man who raised his challenge was Thales, who wrapped Elena around his arms.

    ¡°You think too highly of yourself if you believe I care about settling a score with you. Such concerns are foreign to a man like me.¡±

    Miles was disinterested in finding pride in his fighting. His eyes appeared tired, lacking vigor. His sword arm remained steady however, meaning he would certainly fight, even if he lacked excitement at the prospect.

    This in truth only made Elena more pleased. He¡¯s doing this all for me. What a lad.

    ¡°In any case, let the fight¡ª¡±

    ¡°Halt.¡±

    The order stemmed from a most unexpected place. Prince Charles stood yet again, a rapier held in his hand. It was a work of beautiful craft, its hilt adorned with multiple sparkling jewels and built out of silver. The steel was of considerable length, making it perfect for stabbing.

    ¡°Nice antique you got there. Are you trying to sell it to me?¡± Miles teased. He lowered his own rapier, not treating the prince as a threat.

    ¡°Duel me.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness!¡±

    Charles ignored Thales¡¯ objection, his sight remaining fixated on Miles. ¡°No Sword Dance, no Magic, and no funny tricks. Just man to man, blade to blade. If you can best me, I allow you and Elena to leave.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Elena exclaimed. ¡°Are you serious? Miles, you¡¯re not wasting your time with this buffoon, are you?¡±

    Miles raised his eyebrows. He glanced to the side, to where a large statue of the Goddess stood, extending her arms.

    ¡°You know what it entails to declare a duel within this Holy Land. Let alone when under the direct protection of the Goddess. Are you willing to suffer the consequences when you lose?¡±

    The prince gave an immediate reply. ¡°I would not raise my challenge were I not!¡±

    He spoke confidently, yet his spine betrayed his intentions. His sword arm shook in hesitation, and his teeth kept biting at his mouth. Only his eyes lived up to the image he meant to convey, as they glared with the feverish intensity allowed only for a fool.

    ¡°Now, remove those Magic Crystals you love to rely on so much. Fight me like a real man.¡± He kept on barking, like a small dog barks at a wolf.

    ¡°Tsk. Very well.¡± Shrugging his shoulders, Miles accepted the duel. He raised his sword and, with his other hand, removed the Wind Crystal from its slot at the hilt, before putting it away inside his pocket. ¡°I care not for your little game, but if this results in less fighting, then I accept.¡±

    He found no pride in his swordplay, no honor in victory. His reason for accepting, if reluctantly, was only because it meant dealing with an easier opponent than Thales. The scowl he¡¯d held since arriving had changed nothing; call it a duel, call it a brawl, a skirmish, whatever. A battle was a battle in his eyes, and he approached every battle with the same will.

    Miles stepped forward. Both duelists locked gazes with one another, signifying the start of the duel.

    Charles smirked. ¡°Well, then. Let us begin¡ª¡±

    No less did he finish speaking, his weapon found itself on the defense, vibrating from the impact it had just received.

    Even without the swiftness of body enabled by the Dance of Wind Union, which Miles routinely employed, the handsome rogue was light on his feet. He lunged forward and struck, an overhead swing that threatened to split the prince¡¯s head apart. Only a quick reaction kept Charles alive, but even so, he recoiled backward, pushed by the sudden force.

    Although Charles grimaced wildly, Miles was not one to distract himself with such amusement. He wasted no time and swung twice more, now aiming for his gut. This time, Charles¡¯ defense was better, swinging himself to counteract somewhat the strength of Miles¡¯ attack.

    ¡°Such depravity. Have you never been taught how to fence?¡± Charles, as if demonstrating the proper form, thrust his blade, aiming for Miles¡¯ shoulder.

    Both men wielded rapiers, yet their fighting could not be more different. Charles held his with one hand, and his movements were dignified, practiced like a dance move. The long distance between his hand and the tip of the sword encouraged him to poke at his opponent meticulously, as he outranged Miles significantly.

    While grumbling, Miles stepped to the side, avoiding the stab and countering with a blow of his own.

    Miles¡¯ style was much more erratic. He used both muscular arms of his to grip the hilt of his blade, throwing all of his strength into each of his swings. It wasn¡¯t the proper way to use a thrusting weapon like a rapier, rather just the way he was taught.

    He was a Sword Dancer, a type of warrior who could dictate the will of Fire and Wind through his sword; each swing served to carve a path for them to follow, a path through which Fire blazed and Wind blew. And for one like Miles, whose way of life had been dictated by the Sword, switching fighting styles would be like switching souls. Therefore, even when not powering his blade with Mana Crystals, his swordplay still reflected his way as a Sword Dancer.

    It was a clash of lifestyles, so much as it was a clash of steel, between one who simply learned the sword for sport, and one who was raised by it.

    A wide, curving slash neared the Prince¡¯s shoulders. Miles, who had stepped closer, was within breathing distance of Charles. That distance would grow, as the latter barely managed to parry in time; once again, Charles was pushed backward, this time his back crashing into a nearby table.

    Charles stood, his face becoming increasingly deranged. His princely attire became corrupted by trails of sweat. Combined with his heavy breathing, the weight of the battle on him was visible.

    Despite this, he raised his blade, and with his other hand gestured Miles to come in. ¡°Come on, are you afraid? For the supposed son of the continent¡¯s fiercest warrior, you are nothing but a disappointment.¡±

    ¡°You really think such taunting is gonna affect Miles?¡± chimed in Elena, who was watching from the sidelines. From her view, he was faking his bravado, his words serving only to hype himself up.

    Unexpectedly, Miles bit the bait, plunging forward anyway with a roaring cry, seeking the conflict¡¯s resolution. He raised his arms over his head as he made his charge, the intent to kill written on his eyes.

    Charles grinned. ¡°Got you.¡±

    The reality of the prince¡¯s scheme had unraveled. It was a straightforward plot: taunt him with his father in order to lure him into approaching carelessly. He stabbed at the approaching Miles¡¯s lower body, using the range of his rapier to his advantage to pry at a spot that was unprotected.

    The sudden, violent thrust of his blade proved effective, as it mercilessly pierced¡­the air.

    ¡°Huh?¡± he expressed, gawking at the man who should be there, but was not. He began to turn his neck, when suddenly he was struck by a most unexpected object.

    ¡°What the¡ª¡± His expensive white suit was now washed by stew. ¡°Get down from there.¡±

    At a moment¡¯s notice, Miles had hopped over the prince¡¯s head, landing on the table behind him.

    Standing atop it, Miles held a plate containing a cake in his hand. He ignored Charles¡¯ command, instead chucking the pastry at the prince¡¯s face. The resulting explosion of cream not only soiled his handsome features, but also impacted strongly enough to drop Charles to his back.

    The battle, which had begun as an honorable duel, ended as a skit out of The Three Stooges.

    ¡°You lose,¡± Miles stated coldly, his rapier hovering near Charles¡¯ neck.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s cheating! You broke the rules!¡± the defeated prince cried out. ¡°Don¡¯t you have any honor?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Miles cuttingly replied. ¡°Honor is what fools cling to when their smarts aren¡¯t as developed. You, who treat the sword as a toy, could never comprehend that.¡±

    The duel had exposed both their approaches toward the sword¡ªwith Miles¡¯ as the victor. For Miles, the sword was no sport, subject to such meaningless concepts as rules. It was a tool to be used, not unlike any other. His swordplay was not forged by instructors, but by the chimes of battle.

    ¡°Now, forgive me¡±¡ªhe returned his blade to its resting spot in his scabbard¡ª ¡±I shall leave with the maiden.¡±

    Elena smiled. She glanced upward at Thales, who shook his head with defeated eyes, while saying, ¡°By the stipulations of the duel, we will allow you to leave.¡± He returned his arms, which were keeping Elena in place, to a neutral position, allowing her to step forward and approach Miles.

    ¡°Thank you for¡­for¡­¡± Elena began to lose her words, swept up by joy. She looked at his savior with love-struck eyes, clenching her own hands.

    Within Miles¡¯ scowl, which had been unbreakable throughout the duration of the duel, the faint markings of a smile crept in. He swiftly deflected his gaze, clearly embarrassed, before saying, ¡°Ehem, it¡¯s only my job. No need to thank me. This fight was nothing for me, anyway.¡±

    Elena giggled, then gave a smirk worthy of a devil. ¡°Suure. Whatever you say.¡± Battle mode had been turned off, and Shy mode took its place, much to her pleasure.

    ¡°This¡­ is not over!¡±

    The proclamation came from the ground, shattering the lovely atmosphere. Charles raised his head, boiling with anger.

    ¡°Umm, you kinda lost. Looks pretty over to me,¡± Elena snarked.

    ¡°Silence. I will have my way.¡± Despite looking like a monster made of cream, he raised his blade with vigor once again.

    This time, he held no delusion of playing fair.

    ¡°You are right, Miles. Honor is for fools. So look at this!¡±

    With his other hand, he revealed a crystal, glowing with the hue of gold.

    ¡°That is¡­ a Light Crystal!¡± Miles exclaimed.

    ¡°Light Crystal¡­ I guess there¡¯s another element,¡± said Elena, pensively.

    ¡°Your Highness, release that right now!¡± shouted Thales, concern carved on his face.

    Smirking, Charles fit the crystal into the open slot by the hilt of his blade. ¡°I will fulfill my desires as a man, no matter what!¡±

    He swung his blade, and the world was washed by light.

    <hr>

    ¡°...¡±

    The ground was moving, jumping on occasion from bumps on the road

    ¡°They are catching up to us!¡± called a voice, which hailed from above. ¡°Hurry up.¡±

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°We¡¯re moving as fast as we can. Any faster and¡ª¡±

    The world she saw, which was beginning to regain clarity, trembled wildly. She saw Mr.H,  desperately struggling to steer the wheel as his vehicle lost control.

    ¡°brbrbrrvrb¡±

    Confused by the sudden change in environment, Elena attempted to ask about her whereabouts, only for a mouth gag to distort the question¡¯s sound. To make matters worse, rope kept her tied to her seat, and her hands were cuffed to one another.

    ¡°brsafsrsa,¡± She struggled in place, making more noise than she made progress.

    ¡°You are awake¡­ apologies, my Lady,¡± said Mr. H, who undoubtedly heard her muffled cries for help. ¡°I owe my life to the Prince¡­ what he desires, is my will.¡±

    His excuse only further fueled Elena¡¯s ire more, as she fiddled her body even harder, attempting to break the rope chaining her in place¡ªstill to no avail.

    Tried as she tried, in the face of the two men kidnapping her, she was powerless.

    ¡°Fireball incoming!¡± He called. ¡°I¡¯ll try to block it with my sword. HYAH!¡±

    The other one, Prince Charles, stood atop the roof of the carriage. Albeit she couldn¡¯t see him, she could hear him giving his accomplice orders, as well as keeping him updated on the state of the outside conflict.

    A crackling hiss grew louder and louder, before splitting into two. Elena, despite having her mobility restricted, could observe the battle transpiring outside from the rearview and the window to her left. Thus, she witnessed a projectile made of flame through the air in their direction, before shattering; the ground both to her back and to the side was engulfed.

    ¡°Light of Will, Light of Life, accompany me in this battle. Disc of Light!¡±

    From where Charles was standing, a sword beam flew. Their target soon came into view.

    Riding some sort of bipedal creatures, three knights of the Kingdom approached the escaping trio. The beasts were black, resembling iguanas, and moved their legs at unparalleled speeds.

    The Beam Charles fired cut through one of them, an outburst of gore stemming from both the ride and the rider. The other two remained firm in their chase.

    The result of this battle was already sealed. From the rear, the knight nearest to them aimed the barrel of his gun at them. Flame particles began to gather, which former a large fireball that flew towards the moving vehicle.

    In the seconds before it made impact, Elena faced forward and breathed in deeply, a way of steering herself up for what was to come.

    The world trembled.

    ¡°The Engine! It is not responding. Your Highness, get off!¡±

    As if playing a prank on their cursed selves, the road presented them with a sharp turn, just as control over turning abandoned the hands of the driver.

    Elena shut her eyes, bracing herself for death as the ground she sat on plummeted, sliding off a cliff.

    The world she saw¡­ it came to a crashing conclusion.

    <hr>

    Did she die? Did she live?

    Did it even matter?

    To one who could return from the realm of the dead, the distinction between living and dying was near irrelevant.

    All that mattered was what she sensed, what she felt. The deep dark sky, and the stars that broke its monotonous homogeneity, were real, they were there, up there and she could perceive them.

    No matter what, Elena would continue to live.

    Could she even say she knew death, then? If death was meant to be final, a road that could not be walked backward, then could she really say to have experienced it, if she was ignorant to its rules?

    What am I even thinking about?

    Clarity returned to Elena, who was lying on the ground, having a round of philosophizing like the one had following a strange dream. Her recollection of events was foggy, as she¡¯d lost her ability to sense somewhere along the way.

    She rose to her feet, not struggling particularly to do so. She observed her arms and legs; there was no sign of a wound anywhere. The grass surrounding her feet retained its natural hue, not a drop of blood anywhere.

    ¡°Hmm, I guess I did die,¡± she thought out loud, finger on chin.¡±

    While the rope keeping her immobile might have acted as something of a seatbelt, if her understanding of physics was correct, nothing could really soften the blow of such a crash. At the very least, some wounds should remain on her body.

    ¡°Tehee. How often can you say that outside of videogames?¡± she said, referring back to her statement about having died.

    It was bizarre, but having died was a more sensible possibility.

    Staring at the unsoiled, pristine skin that made up her hand, she pondered, ¡°Whatever¡¯s reviving me seems to like me pretty. There¡¯s not a spot in here¡ª¡±

    She gasped at the realization she¡¯d just made. Not only was her body intact, but she wore the same dress as the day she first got transported into this world.

    ¡°What the¡­¡± she exclaimed, raising the hem of the dress. ¡°I¡¯m wearing this again? Did someone change my clothes? Eww.¡±

    Barfing at the idea, she rejected that possibility outright. In all likelihood, it was returning from death what was to blame for her change in attire.

    ¡°Also, where¡¯s Mr. H.? Or Charles, for that matter?¡±

    She put the thought on hold, as she narrowed her eyes at her unexplainable solitude. Charles¡¯s absence could be explained by him leaping off the cart at the last moment. But Mr. H was on the front seat up to the moment they rolled off the cliff. Even as a corpse, he should be somewhere nearby. To make matters even stranger, the broken parts of the Wind-powered carriage lay right near her feet. Even if he somehow flew, he couldn¡¯t have landed too far.

    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to look for him. I might not like him much anymore, but it¡¯d be harsh to just leave him to be eaten by ants.¡±

    Elena began a slow gait, shouting to see if she could find the eccentric gentleman. The open field of her awakening soon gave way to a small meadow, one composed of the same dead trees she¡¯d seen on her trek up Tomster¡¯s Hill.

    ¡° Dang, they look even more depressing up close,¡± she expressed, clenching her fist at the dreadful image. The dead lands she was made to travel brought sorrow upon her soul.

    ¡°The faster I find that man, the sooner I get out of here. MR.H!¡± Following her screech, she poked her tongue with her index finger, before adding, ¡°Then again, I guess that¡¯s not really his name, derp.¡± She bit her lower lip; she REALLY didn¡¯t want to have to use his real name, but if it helped, she would.

    So, she steadied her throat to shout his name. Right before her vocal cords could generate sound however, her ears whiffed some sort of noise. It vaguely resembled a human voice.

    ¡°Wait, could it be?¡±

    In excitement, Elena hurried in its direction, stepping through the trees and arriving at the edge of a cliff.

    What met her eyes pleased her. The back of a tall, elderly man was the figure that cut through the dark environment.

    ¡°There you are, Mr. H. Or I guess I should say¡­ nevermind. We just need to get out of here.¡±

    No response. She repeated her words, still to no avail.

    ¡°Umm, are you okay¡ªoh no.¡±

    Seeing him standing by the edge of a harsh, deadly drop, Elena feared the worst. Carefully, she approached the man, and slowly extended her arm.

    ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t know what is troubling you. But there¡¯s no reason to give up. Life is beautiful!¡± She began stuttering a bit, unsure of what exactly to say that wouldn¡¯t turn ugly. ¡°Listen, if love is your concern, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find a beautiful wife. So let¡¯s go. No matter how hopeless it may seem, you can always¡ª¡±

    A response finally came.

    She received it not through her ears, but through her fingers¡ªwhich were cut off in a single slice.

    It took a moment for the sensation to reach her neurons, as the image of flowing red liquid froze her retinas. But the moment it did, her mouth¡ªno, her entire soul, screeched in agony.

    ¡°GAAAAAAAAAH!¡±

    With tears born from pain, she saw as the silhouette of a man standing before her revealed its true colors. His skin became inhumanly pale, with bones visible on his face. Where his nose should be, a long beak took its place. On his torso, bone could be seen, as well as organs like kidneys and lungs, uncanny in how motionless they remained. Saw-blades took the place of his hands, his joints optimized for his one task.

    ¡°Kill,¡± it uttered constantly, like a broken record.

    All this grotesque contrasted with the fancy suit and top hat that decked him, serving as a mere reminder of the gentleman he once was; Mr. H had turned into a Kabeast¡ªslave to the Demon King, a corpse man walking among the living.

    ¡°Nonononononoooooo!¡±

    Elena, in disbelief, began stepping backward, before turning around and sprinting away. Her hands still recoiled with pain, leaking tears of blood that left a trail as she ran.

    She didn¡¯t care. To bathe in her anguish was an exercise in futility. Looking backwards, hesitating, was a one-course trip to death.

    Of course, with her power, death was not fatal. But still, Elena ran.

    For even now, death frightened her.

    ¡°AGHHH.¡±

    Albeit the moonlight proved a worthy flashlight, it was still quite dark, and in her haste, Elena tripped over a branch, coming to face with the ground.

    Time paused, but her nervous system did not. The pain of her fingers rose to the front of her mind again. She sucked them with her mouth, but such measures were not effective with a wound of this scale.

    All she could do with this faint time before the Kabeast caught up, was reflect.

    That bastard!

    Stranded in a land of dead trees, chased by what was essentially a zombie. That was her fate¡ªone brought not by her own deeds, but only due to the desire of that foolish man.

    ¡°Why¡­ I didn¡¯t want any of this!¡±

    She gritted her teeth, in exhaustion. Why did she have to pay for the mistakes of a man she didn¡¯t even like? Why was the suffering inflicted on her fingers one that she had to pay?

    ¡°Why¡­¡±

    Why, in this world of fantasy, did she have to be subjected to similar torments as in her old world?

    ¡°...¡±

    Unfortunately for her, her eyes gifted her a cruel reminder: that the threats that lay on this world were not only those she knew from her old life.

    Kabeasts, such as those approaching her, were also a danger to her.

    She was almost completely surrounded. North, east, south. Only west allowed for safe passage.

    With a pounding heart, Elena quickly rose to her feet and began one last, desperate dash, barely managing to bolt away from the steel weapons the Kabeasts wielded. She felt her long hair be slashed, unable to fully escape, but couldn¡¯t care less. Walking away with her life was achievement enough.

    She ran with all the speed she had, managing to outrun the creatures which, for all their sadistic might, were pretty slow on their feet.

    ¡°There¡¯s the hill. If I manage to get up there, maybe Miles¡­¡±

    Her efforts would be rewarded, as the familiar image of Tomster¡¯s Hill came into view. It would be a steep climb, especially when missing fingers, but in the face of death even venom resembled hope.

    ¡°I¡¯m almost there. Just a bit¡ª¡±

    Her fortune was immediately reversed.

    Her nose splattered the rest of her face with blood, injured by crashing into a surface of some sort. She dropped prone, in part from the impact, in part due to restlessness.

    ¡°What NOW?¡± she said, frustrated at her constant disgrace. She bent one knee to begin standing up.

    She stretched her arm forward, the one whose hand remained unharmed. The instant her fingers felt a sensation, a purple wall drew itself before her.

    ¡°You have got to be kidding me?¡±

    It was a barrier, that stretched out as far upward as she could see, and to her left and right as far as she could see.

    ¡°Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.¡±

    Her eyes widened at the booming, ever-present sound, foretelling her upcoming demise. She turned her head around in hesitation, as she saw a picture most petrifying.

    An entire battalion¡¯s worth of Kabeasts, from all sides, were inching closer and closer to her.

    ¡°HELP! HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE!¡±

    She pleaded, bumping the barrier over and over again with her fists, attempting to somehow shatter it.

    But no one heard her prayers, and the barrier would not bulge. The entire world collectively agreed¡ªher life was forfeit.

    She felt desperation, of course, but most of all, she felt lost, abandoned, like an unwanted toy. She was unworthy of salvation, denied the warmth of a helping hand.

    Turning around one last time, she closed her eyes, unwilling to stare directly at her incoming fate. Following a deep breath, she sprinted madly at the Kabeasts, who outnumbered her a thousand-to-one.

    There was no plan, no real wisdom to her run. Just a blind, desperate prayer that somehow, she¡¯d move fast enough that they wouldn¡¯t be able to catch her.

    Reality quickly put those hopes to rest.

    A blade cut her legs, preventing further running. Her body crumbled to the floor, and at that point, she was up to the demons¡¯ mercy. The creatures all bunched up, blocking her view of the sky.

    A view that would be only blocked further, as arms in the form of sabers stabbed her eyes, painting the world red.

    Her torso was torn limb by limp, with her organs feeling the penetrating edge of blades. Her thinking became fogged, as something dug into her brain.

    She screamed, as loud as if was pointless, as no respite existed from her suffering. Eventually, her screeching did stop; not because her pain subsided, but because her throat itself was being torn apart, tearing her tongue and vocal cords. Even screaming was a respite disallowed to her.

    Every inch of her body was profaned, every part that helped her perceive the world dismembered, every nerve run over by cold, uncaring steel. Everywhere that existed, she could feel the relentless assault of those beasts, simpleminded in their desire to kill. The existence once known as Elena stopped existing, all that remained of her person being a pile of guts and gore.

    Her vision, her hearing, her smell. They all crumbled. No sensation could be felt, except for one.

    Pain.

    Her existence had become pain. Pain surrounded her. It was ever-present. She couldn¡¯t escape it, she couldn¡¯t shut it off. Time and space themselves became warped, as pain overwrote them.

    She saw a tall figure appear before her¡ªseeing it not through her eyes, but through her soul. But it did little to calm her woes.

    It hurt. It just hurt. It hurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurt.

    Nobody could erase this pain. Nothing. Pain was all she was. Pain. Painpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpain.

    But despite all, she remained alive.

    Although her existence had become pain, life refused to abandon her.

    Why? Was it just to mock her?

    She yearned for death. Death, as scary as it was, was tranquil. It was not painful. And that¡¯s all that mattered. Relief from pain. She didn¡¯t want to feel hurt. Just that. Nothing more.

    About ten more excruciating seconds passed, and death finally arrived.

    <hr>

    In truth, all along, her pleas for help had been heard.

    I lacked the power to answer, but I heard them, listening to them carefully.

    Just remember, my dear Elena. So long as I hold power over you, you are subject to my desires.

    You might not know me. You might not recognize me. But just know.

    When your pain becomes too much to bear¡­ I shall be all you see.

    <hr>

    ¡°Elena, Elena!¡±

    Her eyes opened. The sky showed its bright, blue hue. It was still being blocked, in part, but rather than a meeting of bloodthirsty demons, the figure she was seeing exhibited an aura of calmness, even as he begged for her to wake up.

    ¡°Thank the Goddess, you are alive!¡±

    Miles stared straight into her eyes, their faces within breathing distance, his hand grabbing her back.

    ¡°W¡ªw¡ªwwwwwww¡­¡±

    ¡°Elena?¡±

    In an instant, Elena burst upward, before stepping away from him.

    ¡°Are you alright,¡± he asked, concerned.

    ¡°I¡ªI¡ªIIIIIIIIII¡­¡±

    She was stuttering wildly, unable to form any coherent words. Her neck was dripping with sweat, and her eyes were wide like they¡¯d seen a ghost.

    She was alive.

    And that scared her.

    For life had become pain. Yet there she was, alive but not in pain. A feeling she¡¯d become unaccustomed to.

    But what would disturb her most would be the sight she witnessed once she inspected her arm.

    Her skin was in pristine condition. Her torso was intact, and her legs functioned normally. The dress she wore, featuring the same cicada-inspired design as the one it had on her first day on this world, was strung together perfectly.

    Like a doll that was repaired after a child played rough with it, she showed no sign of scratches or wounds. No hints of the pain she¡¯d experienced.

    The only proof that remained were the scars carved deep in her memory.

    To the tune of a loud wail, Elena collapsed to the ground.

 CH 19: Invisible Wounds

    Elena awoke.

    This time, death was not the reason for her slumber. She had simply passed out for a brief time. But death was the reason why she had passed out in the first place.

    When life returned to her¡­ her mind was in a shattered state, and the following sleep provided not enough respite to put its pieces back together.

    ¡°Elena, are you alright?¡± Miles asked. No response. ¡°Can you hear me?¡±

    ¡°Blrlrlrgasfafs.¡±

    Elena babbled random sounds, unable to connect syllables properly. She stared intently at her arm, then at her chest, and finally at her legs, all of which trembled wildly.

    There were no bruises, no wounds, not so much as a scratch. Her skin was pristine, pure and pale as silk. Her dress, the same she wore her first day on this world, was stitched together perfectly, no thread out of place and without any splashes of blood.

    She was the picture of a doll, unravished by the passage of time and displaying a beauty that could make a rose flare with envy.

    And yet¡­

    ¡°Brlrllrlrlllarlal.¡±

    The wounds remained. She could picture every single beast that¡­ no, actually, she couldn¡¯t. They all blended together. An army of vicious beasts, all attacking together from every existing direction, all united by their single-minded thirst for inflicting death. All her mind could picture was this same body, that seemed so peerless in its construction, being violated from head to toe by sharp blades, being ripped apart until only a paste of blood and guts remained.

    Those wounds were not visible. They did not serve to blemish her fine features. To those who saw her, there was no hint of what she¡¯d endured, of the struggle she carried.

    But the wounds remained. As mere memories, but they remained.

    Those memories were enough to prevent her mind from regaining composure. Pain had become her entire world. Every time she exercised thought, the wounds flared up again.

    The mush of blues and greens that assaulted her eyes might once have been identified as sky and grass, but her ability to comprehend things remained impaired.  All she saw, all she heard, all she smelled, was pain, pain was all her soul knew.

    Elena no longer feared death.

    She had once naively believed that she¡¯d seen all that death hid in its depths. And in truth, her assessment was correct. To her, witness to death on more than one occasion, death held no more secrets under its sleeve. Death was tranquil, lacking in chaos, an eternal sleep that differed not one second from the next, a trip devoid of adventure.

    It was life, then, what she had to fear. Life was what still held new ways of torturing her, further unknowns that could lead to suffering. It was while alive that those unforgettable sensations became forged into her flesh. Had she not been alive, she¡¯d never have experienced the physical pain of being torn limb by limb like prey, the psychological pain of crying for help that would never arrive. The pain of¡­

    Any pain. Pain that wouldn¡¯t go away so long as she was alive. Pain that came with being alive. Painpainpainpainpainpainpainpain¡­

    Living itself was pain. By contrast, death was not. Death was, in fact, the salvation from the pain of living, the calm after a storm of suffering. The moment death arrived, her pain subsided, and her only regret was that it hadn¡¯t come sooner.

    It was seeking to escape that pain, then, that her soul began to yearn for a return to slumber.

    With great force, Elena bashed her head against the nearest hard surface. It didn¡¯t matter what said surface was, so long as it had even a slight chance of cracking her skull wide open. If successful, she¡¯d leave behind the pain of life, and be soothed back into the eternal sleep of death.

    Each slam hurt, but it felt comforting, in a sense. Even in the storm of pain that clouded Elena¡¯s mind, the damage to her head still stood out, signifying she was stepping ever further on the road to death.

    ¡°Elena, please, calm down!¡±

    It should have been impossible. But somehow, his voice broke through to her.

    The warm touch of his hands pulled her back. Her ears regained the full depth of their abilities, as the faint sounds of water droplets managed to pierce her hearing.

    Her eyes scanned their surroundings. Before, albeit they were functional, the world they perceived consisted of nothing but a mush of shapes that were impossible to make sense of. Now, the shapes that surrounded her were definitely walls of stone. The dank atmosphere told Elena she was in some sort of cave, however it was one with a unique, purple lighting. It made it possible to see, so there was little to complain about, but it regardless proved disorienting to Elena, who was still making sense of the world.

    ¡°Where are we?¡± Elena asked, fighting off a headache.

    ¡°Thank the heavens, you spoke. You showed no wounds, but the way you were panting so heavily was painful to see.¡± Miles breathed a sigh of relief, before adding, ¡°We are in a cavern right underneath the Cathedral, within the depths of Tomster¡¯s Hill.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Elena nodded along, but unfortunately, her head hadn¡¯t fully recovered. There was a fog of noise, as if a woodpecker was drumming inside her skull. Despite being the one to ask, she was unable to truly comprehend Miles¡¯ answer. She was simply shivering too much. Not due to cold¡ªalbeit the low temperature didn¡¯t help. But because, even now, she remained numb from the freezing tundra that was her memories.

    She shook her head fiercely, fighting off the dreadful recollection drilling at her brain.

    Then suddenly¡ª she was pulled into a warm embrace.

    Her eyes widened as her head found rest within welcoming shoulders.

    Everything happened too fast. She, who was still reeling from the images her mind was projecting, suddenly felt the rate of her beating heart accelerate.

    Her senses remained too broken to understand properly. She could not muster the gleeful response such a happening deserved. But she knew this was the work of Miles¡ªwhose touch was his way of delivering support.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve been through, but¡­¡±

    Miles spoke, doubt scattered throughout each of his words. He slurred many of the sounds, as if he wasn¡¯t sure if he had permission to say what he wanted to say. The movements of his fingers were fidgety, and his stare lacked focus.

    It was plenty evident that Miles was not well-suited for matters beyond fighting. To provide comfort to an injured soul; that was a task beyond him.

    And yet¡ª he gave it his best shot.

    ¡°I know full well what it¡¯s like to keep pain hidden. So please, feel free to count on me.¡± Miles said, nodding his head. His voice sounded soulful, but in a way that was complimentary to his usual, stoic demeanor. The words had their emotion massaged, as if they wanted to sound softer than they were allowed to be.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Still, they proved enough for the fire of Elena¡¯s eyes to light again. It was a burn that could fizzle out at any moment, so Elena took the opportunity to truly see what lay before her.

    A field of flowers, all blooming in spite of the lack of sunlight. They emanated the purple glow that gave the cave its color.

    Extending his arm, Miles grabbed the one nearest to where they were sitting, before gifting it to Elena with a smile. ¡°Here, give it a sniff. It might help deliver some peace of mind.¡±

    Elena wrapped her slim fingers around the stem. Observing it up close, it resembled a clematis, albeit smaller in size. It was obviously not the same flower, though, as it grew underground. She brought it to her nostrils, and closed her eyes, letting the fragrance wash all over her. If the elated face Miles had made was earned, it was sure to have a calming, pleasing effect. So, she braced her mind to feel a soft embrace stemming from a floral smell.

    And then she began to cough.

    ¡°ARGH! cough. Are you trying to poison me? This is dreadful! cough.¡±

    ¡°What? Nonono,¡± Miles denied while shaking his head violently. Twiddling his thumbs, he added, ¡°I mean, it usually helps me feel better, so I thought¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d rather choke on tobacco,¡± Elena said, grumpy. Once the anger fizzled out, however, she noticed that Miles had begun to hide his eyes, his gaze directed at the nearby cavernous wall.

    At that moment, Elena gripped the bodice of her dress, and began to reconsider the situation while taking a deep breath.

    ¡°Miles, let me ask you something. Why did you bring me here?¡± Elena held her suspicions about what his reasons were, but she raised her question nonetheless.

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know. My mother used to bring me here whenever we were in the capital, and I remember it making me feel really happy.¡± He left out a tsk, then continued while laughing at himself, ¡°But I guess it¡¯s just a random cave if you don¡¯t have that nostalgia.¡±

    Elena covered her mouth with her hand, preventing a squee from leaping out of her. Which it did anyway, albeit a bit muffled.

    He took me here just to make me feel better. ARGH, so adorable.

    ¡°W¡ªWhy are you staring at me like that! It¡¯s uncomfortable!¡± Miles¡¯ complaints only intensified his cuteness.

    With her mouth curving into an earnest smile, Elena began to laugh, a laugh so pure and earnest it took her a second to realize that tears were rolling down her face.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she said. ¡°I just wanna say¡­ thank you, my friend.¡± She spoke no more, letting any further words for her eyes.

    The flower smelling might have been a bust, but it did not matter in the long run. What did matter is that Miles, the fearsome warrior of the Dead Sea, took the time to try making her feel better; and to do so, he searched the inner depths of his heart, seeking a way to connect with hers, sharing a hidden spot of emotional significance to him.

    Like impulse, Elena drove her head into his shoulder, much to his embarrassment. As her head dug into his jacket, his nervous hands responded by caressing her hair.

    Everywhere, all at once, sensations assaulted her body. The chilling breeze that blew inside there. The warmth of Miles¡¯s fingers. The scratchy fabric she was rubbing her cheek against. The joy of sharing a quiet moment with someone. Even the repulsive odor of the remaining flowers.

    Not all were positive. But they were sensations unique to life, ones that the dead did not know of.

    At that moment, any yearning for death had vanished. Elena had remembered the virtues of being alive.

    Feeling at peace, Elena felt compelled to inquire further about the man who¡¯d shown her such compassion. ¡°Tell me more. About this place. About your mother.¡±

    After a pause to recollect his thoughts, Miles began a wistful recollection. ¡°She adored this place. She said the purple glow reminded her of why she¡¯d fallen in love with my father.¡±

    Miles growled and grimaced as he mentioned his father, then let out a breath long enough to bring down a house of straw.

    ¡°Was your father¡­ like, umm, how do I put this politely¡­¡±

    ¡°An asshole?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that! Geese, it feels strange to hear you be so vulgar. I was expecting a ¡®bastard¡¯ instead.¡±

    ¡°He deserves the lowest words I could muster.¡± He let out another breath, then clenched his fist and aimed his gaze directly at Elena. ¡°Speaking of which, I have something to ask of you.¡±

    She tilted her head. ¡°Of me? Sure, not like there¡¯s much that I can do.¡±

    ¡°I want you to come with me¡­ to save someone we both care for.¡±

    At his vague statement, Elena pulled back her head, and faced him directly in the eyes.

    ¡°Our family once consisted of my father, my mother, me of course¡­ and my younger sister.¡± He paused, clear that even mentioning his sister was excruciating to his tongue. ¡°But after mother passed away, that asshole sold my sister into slavery to pay off gambling debts.¡±

    Elena gasped, not just from the horrible deed being described, but because her brain had finished making the proper connections. Miles had mentioned his sister before, but as far as Elena knew, she¡¯d never met her. But now, he was saying that this sister of his was someone she too cared about.

    The pieces were put into place. Someone who needed saving. Sold to slavery. Someone they both cared for. She didn¡¯t need to hear the name, because it already wrote itself before within her lips.

    ¡°Cordelia! Cordelia is your sister?¡±

    ¡°I only caught a glimpse of her in that dark alley¡­ but I know it was her. She had my mother¡¯s blue eyes and silver hair. And her Water Magic had the same touch as hers.¡±

    The girl whom Elena had sworn to protect, and the man whose protection she hoped to always have. The two of them were siblings, meant to grow together and share their youths together, but were separated by the shameful greed of their father.

    Immediately, a single thought crossed Elena¡¯s mind as that weighty revelation seeped in.

    Is everyone in that family destined to look hot?

    She then shook her head, and with it, shook off that silly, inappropriate for the situation thought.

    ¡°Miles¡­¡± Elena said, raising her head and straight of shoulders. Miles stared back intently. She then pounded her chest, right underneath her breasts, before pointing at him dramatically.

    ¡°You can rely on me.¡±

    The pain she¡¯d endured last night would never fully go away. It¡¯d carved a permanent spot within the depths of her mind, waiting for the moment to resurface, to bring her back to that moment of agony.

    But just because a wound leaves scars, doesn¡¯t mean it can¡¯t heal.

    These invisible wounds she carried¡­albeit slowly, they had started on the process of healing. Thanks to Miles¡¯ caring heart she could, if only for a moment, cast aside the pain she¡¯d endured, and look forward to life.

    Thus, she could not refuse to pay back the favor.

    ¡°I promise. Whatever it takes, I¡¯ll help you patch your family back together.¡±

    There remained no doubt that behind that wall of aloofness he put up, hid a soul tarnished by wounds. The way he spoke of his family; it carried a sorrow too palpable to be unreal.

    Elena couldn¡¯t even fantasize of fully removing those wounds. Nothing was that powerful, not even healing magic. His mother would remain dead. Cordelia¡¯s past of forced servitude could not be erased.

    But if she could at least bring brother and sister together at long last¡ª then his healing was sure to begin.

    <hr>

    ¡°Oh, there you are. And you found the missus!¡±

    Stepping out of the cave, Elena and Miles were met by Bronson, who waved his arm from a distance. Before long, his large frame rushed toward them, but not before signaling the rest of the crew to follow him.

    ¡°Nice to see ya again, big guy,¡± Elena said nonchalantly, hitting him with her elbow.

    He crossed his arms and said, ¡°Hopefully this time you won¡¯t disappear on us immediately.¡±

    Elena scratched the back of her neck. ¡°Yeah¡­ that does tend to happen when I¡¯m with you guys, doesn¡¯t it? Screw whoever¡¯s writing this script.¡± She laughed.

    ¡°Unfortunately, we won¡¯t have much time to relax,¡± Miles chimed in, serious-minded, ¡°We need to save my sister.¡±

    ¡°Right!¡± Elena gave a determined clap of her hands. ¡°But wait, do we have any idea where she is?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Bronson replied, ¡°but we do have a little prisoner who I¡¯m sure is willing to spill a bean or two.¡±

    ¡°Prisoner?¡±

    Not a second after Elena finished her pondering, Leila and Galen caught up. But what was most important was who they brought along; with his hands tied and made to walk by way of knife, the one who accompanied them was, a young, blonde man. Albeit possessing handsome features, his hair was in a complete scramble and his skin was showered in mud.

    Nonetheless, he was impossible to misidentify. Elena¡¯s pupils shrunk at the sight. ¡°Charles?¡±

    ¡°We meet again, Elena¡­ shame it¡¯s under these circumstances.¡±

    The one who was meant to guide them to the whereabouts of Cordelia¡ªit was none other than the very crown prince of the Kindgom of Luzterna.

 CH 20: Caution

    ¡°You! What are you doing here?¡±

    Disgust filled her eyes.

    She hated the man before her¡ªno, the word hate was far too light to convey the extent of her feelings. Before she stood a figure who represented everything she hated about the world, about men, about humanity itself. A man so toothless, he stood by as the Kingdom he was soon to rule was filled with inequality and discrimination.

    Elena¡¯s question was met with silence on his part. Instead, it was Leila, who, with something of a grin, answered. ¡°As you can tell from the knife I¡¯m pointing to his back, he¡¯s not here willingly.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong, rogue,¡± Charles protested, aiming his eyes toward Leila, ¡°I have come to make amends.¡±

    ¡°Make amends? For what, trying to kidnap me?¡± Elena said. ¡°Because good luck with THAT!¡±

    ¡°Yes, you are quite perceptive. Truly a woman worthy of my love.¡±

    ¡°Dumbass!¡± She stepped forward, ready to slap him, but Miles¡¯ arm stopped her in her tracks.

    ¡°I understand your frustration, lady Elena,¡± said Galen, ¡°but after some, uhmmm¡­ pressuring, the prince has agreed to collaborate with our search for our Captain¡¯s sister.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. I believe I can provide information that¡¯ll help you figure out Number 9¡¯s location.¡±

    His explanation only further ignited her. ¡°Seriously? Am I supposed to believe that you, of all people, want to help us save Cordelia? After you broke your promise of letting me go after the ball? I wouldn¡¯t buy a hot dog from you, let alone that bullshit!¡± She took a breath, as if to calm down, then continued spitting bile. ¡°And her name is Cordelia, by the way. Cor-de-li-a. Use it or consider ending yourself.¡±

    ¡°Miss Elena, please collect yourself!¡± Galen said, gesturing with his hands to make her lower her volume.

    ¡°Shut up. I¡¯m not getting shushed by some walking Uke stereotype,¡± she growled at the short, effeminate man, baring her fangs.

    ¡°U¡ªunderstood¡­¡± Galen whispered, his voice and face losing any and all sense of dignity. He was clearly taken aback by the word he did not know the meaning of.

    ¡°Elena,¡± began to say Miles, placing her hand on her shoulder, ¡°I understand your concern. But he¡¯s the best lead we can get for my sister¡¯s whereabouts.¡±

    ¡°I know, but¡­¡±

    Elena cast her eyes to the side, her mind running simulations. Her distrust of the crown prince was such that she could not help but worry. Odds were high that he would lead them all into a trap, or instead betray them at a crucial time.

    Such was the kind of man that Charles was, a kind that she held nothing but contempt toward.

    Reading her concern, Bronson, who had remained silent, flexed his arms and reassured her. ¡°Don¡¯t worry missus. You can count on me to set him straight in case anything does go awry.¡± He cracked his knuckles.

    ¡°If I do indeed mislead you, I will accept any punishment you ghoulish criminals deem appropriate,¡± Charles swore. ¡°I myself have interest in aiding you, anyway.¡±

    Elena tilted her head, burrowing her brows. ¡°What could you get out of helping us? You¡¯re already a prince, you already have everything and nothing to gain. If you expect me to reconsider your marriage proposal in exchange for this, then you can shove¡ª¡±

    ¡°I want to walk my own path,¡± he interrupted. ¡°One different from that the Kingdom¡¯s built for me. Perhaps this is childish, but I believe even a small act of rebellion would be plenty to set me down the correct road.¡±

    ¡°Oh, give me a break.¡± Elena was getting fed up of his shtick.

    ¡°Besides,¡± chimed in Leila, throwing her hands up, ¡°having the prince as a hostage could be of great benefit to us if we were to go against the Royal Guard. So long as we¡¯re careful, I believe he¡¯ll be a great asset.¡±

    ¡°Leila, aren¡¯t you supposed to be the serious, mature one of this crew? Why are you going along with this insanity?¡±

    ¡°Listen kid,¡± Leila said, placing a hand on her own hip, her eyes calm, ¡°so long as we have our mind set on saving this girl, we¡¯re facing an uphill battle no matter what. You got any idea where she is?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Elena admitted, scratching the back of her neck.

    ¡°Then we gotta take anything we can get. Any measure of caution went out the window the moment we agreed upon doing this, anyway.¡±

    Leila had a point. So long as they yearned to save Cordelia, risk was inevitable. They had to play the cards they¡¯d been lucky to draw, even if it meant feeling uneasy.

    ¡°But are you all really willing to risk your lives on sketchy information?¡± Elena asked.

    Saving Cordelia was her responsibility, an oath belonging only to her. If anyone should risk their life, it was her, especially when her ability meant it was not a risk.

    ¡°It¡¯s true we could end up squashed like rats if something goes wrong,¡± Bronson said, ¡°But finding Miles¡¯ little sister has been one of our goals for as long as he¡¯s been Captain¡­ we cannot abandon her now. Not when we finally know she¡¯s alive.¡±

    As Bronson gave his explanation, his arms motioned wildly, generating an aura of pride that filled the air. There was a fire to his eyes that was shared by all the other members of the crew, who too raised their arms without missing a beat. Such was the comradery they all shared, one so intense it led them all to stand together, willing to come face-to-face with danger for the sake of bringing Miles¡¯ wish to life.

    ¡°Everyone, thank you¡­¡± said Miles, wearing an expression that said it all. It was one that Elena had seen a couple of times, reserved for when his emotions ran deep and true.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Elena said, straightening her posture. ¡°But if he steps out of line, I¡¯m killing him myself,¡± she added. Her tone implied she was joking, but the glare she directed at Charles spoke the complete opposite.

    ¡°Now, spit out all you know,¡± Miles ordered, drawing his blade.

    ¡°Well¡­¡±

    <hr>

    Her heart wanted to leap out, to escape her body, which had turned cold. Knots had formed on her stomach. She bit hard into her lower lip, as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing.

    Well, make sense was perhaps not the most accurate term. As what she¡¯d just learned was perfectly in line with the lofty expectations she had of this Kingdom. But even so, she wanted to erase this information from her mind, as to acknowledge it as a truth would be too crushing.

    Reacting to the dismay that visibly flowed through Elena, Leila reassured, ¡°If she was only taken there two days ago, there¡¯s a good chance she¡¯s still alive. She¡¯s young and can work.¡± Her words proved enough to reignite some hope within Elena, who clenched her fist with determination.

    ¡°My parents told me some rumors about this Thales fella,¡± added Bronson, who was native to the Capital. ¡°That he had a knack for young maidens. Do you think he might protect her?¡±

    Charles, the target of his question, answered. ¡°Yes, Sir Thales always seemed fond of Number 9. In fact, he pleaded with my father to forgive her for casting magic in the middle of town. But after she attempted to heal Elena, even he had no choice but to take her away from the Palace.¡±

    ¡°No choice, you say?¡±  Elena asked.

    ¡°Pretty much. This is the standard punishment for those who go against the Goddess¡¯ Decree, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± She yelled, hoping her scream would shatter the prince¡¯s bones. ¡°You can shove your Goddess¡¯ orders up your ass. Can you not see the depravity your Kingdom is guilty of?¡±

    As punishment for using magic, Cordelia had been relocated to an underground bunker, built to contain Marked prisoners. There, they were forced to work to the bone¡ªuntil they could no more, at which point they were sentenced to death.

    ¡°Depravity? Before, those guilty of using Magic were simply hanged. Nowadays, we allow them to at least be useful to us before death. If they¡¯re going to be executed anyway, don¡¯t you believe this is more proper? For their lives to provide worth until the end?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak of death¡­¡±

    Shutting her eyes so tears wouldn¡¯t leak, she gave that whisper as her only response. Despite being too faint to hear, everyone else went silent.

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak of death!¡± she repeated, now yelling. Her now-open eyes burned, seeking to plunge the target of their hatred into hellfire. ¡°Don¡¯t speak as if you know it. All those poor people, forced to spend their last days in despair and pain¡­ that is scarier than any rope could ever be!¡±

    Elena, who knew death with unnatural intimacy, understood the difference between life and death, and which of those concepts she feared the most. When her mind pictured the horrors these underground camps could contain, death was the least of her concerns. For death was at least calm, pleasant, devoid of pain. As painful as it¡¯d be, Elena¡¯s mind could withstand Cordelia being dead. Yes, she would grieve she could maybe come to grips with that.

    But life? It was life that held worse horrors.

    Was Cordelia being tortured? Was she forced to starve, going insane in the process? Worst of all, had someone tried to take advantage of her? Such were the fates that societies shaped by cruelty reserved for those lowest in the ladder.

    No matter how dreadful, so long as she couldn¡¯t confirm nor deny any of those possibilities, Elena had to acknowledge them as possible, and that made her very soul shiver.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    As Elena began wailing, Leila came up to her and pulled her body into a hug. Meanwhile, Miles, who wore a stern face, continued the interrogation.

    ¡°You sicken me,¡± Miles said. ¡°You really believe such measures come from a place of humanity?¡±

    ¡°Why else would we? Hanging is as simple as efficient as an execution gets. What other reason is there to prolong a murder?¡±

    ¡°You read history books. You should know what happened with dead Marked bodies around fifty years ago,¡± Miles said, matter-of-fact.

    At his words, Charles tensed up, gulping. ¡°You are not saying¡­¡±

    ¡°Does the crown prince really not know such a basic fact?¡± said Galen. ¡°Even I, hailing from Eternasia where the practice is long-banned, am aware of the prominence of Ashes Gathering in the Kingdom.¡±

    Elena, who¡¯d been absent from the conversation, paused her sobbing and lit up at the unfamiliar term.¡°What is that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming my lady is aware of Mana, correct?¡± Galen asked.

    ¡°The thing those Crystals use?¡±

    ¡°Correct! Historically, Mana was always harvested from the Earth, and then used to build Magic Crystals, which are then used to power devices. It is said the energy comes from dead humans and animals. However, in recent years, some insane scientist from the Meritocracy discovered a way to farm Mana from living Marked. It was given the name of Ashes Gathering, as it requires cremating the targets. The results are much more efficient than the old-fashioned way, but it kills the victims in the process.

    Galen gave his lecture completely straight-faced; in contrast to Elena, whose horror only grew as he said every word.

    ¡°Hold on. Are you accusing my father and my country of carrying an illegal practice? That is impossible!¡±

    ¡°Why else would they hide their activities under the earth?¡± Miles retorted.

    Charles was left with no counter-argument. This was knowledge that books had not provided him with.

    ¡°The Kingdom¡¯s always been lacking in Mana compared to other countries. You can tell when my father has been using his carriage a lot because he starts complaining about the price of Wind Crystals,¡± said Bronson. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t shock me if those bastards looked into alternative means of obtaining Mana.¡±

    With crossed arms, Elena then asked, ¡°So you¡¯re saying that this is all so they can get¡­ fuel, basically?¡± She lifted an eyebrow as she phrased her question.

    ¡°Pretty much, yeah,¡± Leila said, nonchalantly. ¡°Some years ago, some big businesses got into conflict with Luzterna¡¯s government due to the scarcity of Mana.¡±

    ¡°Of fucking course.¡±

    It was just so typical. Even in this world, human greed led to death and suffering. She rolled her eyes a bit, groaning at how on-the-nose this entire set-up was¡ªit being for the sake of fuel of all things only further reinforcing the point.

    After a long, long breath, Miles spoke, authority contained within his voice. ¡°But as Leila said earlier, her being young and able means she¡¯s likely still alive. So before the worst comes to pass, we must make a plan of attack.¡±

    Everyone nodded, in agreement. Except for Charles, that is, who cast his sight downward, wearing the look of a beaten puppy. This caught Elena¡¯s attention. She observed with curious eyes, but then shook off that sudden, fleeting feeling.

    Perhaps he was pondering if all he¡¯d been told was a lie, if he was complicit with atrocities he had no way to justify.

    Regardless, there was no place within her for any shred of sympathy toward his kind.

    For Elena to hold so much as even a glimmer of hope that he might change his ways¡­ that was a fault with her, a fault that needed to be corrected.

    <hr>

    ¡°Are you sure you want to use this? Won¡¯t your parents get in trouble?¡±

    At Miles¡¯s overly-cautious question, Bronson casually replied, ¡°Don¡¯t worry mate, I¡¯ve got the police routes memorized. I¡¯ll make sure to drive where nobody will spot us. ¡±

    ¡°Just made sure to cover your face, Mr. Breaking-into-state-sponsored-events,¡± Leila advised to Miles in a teasing tone.

    The large vehicle belonged to Bronson¡¯s family, and it was often used to deliver food around town. As was typical of this world, its exterior resembled that of a carriage, while the inside was like a modern truck, with similar seating arrangements: two seats at the front, and a large one at the back. It also featured a trunk at the back.

    ¡°Wait a moment,¡± Charles said, ¡°There are six of us. How are we going to fit in?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s very simple,¡± Bronson answered. ¡°You see how you can carry baggage on the trunk? You could even fit a prisoner in there.¡±

    ¡°Yes? I don¡¯t follow.¡±

    Miles and Bronson exchanged looks of understanding.

    Immediately afterward, they shoved Charles into the trunk, to the sound of his complaining.

    <hr>

    Following Charles¡¯ instructions, Bronson drove across the Luzternan countryside. According to the prince, the camp Thales supervised was a few dozen kilometers away from the capital city, hidden underneath the earth.

    Bronson and Leila, who knew the area deepest, sat at the front. At the back, Miles and Elena sat at the edges by the doors, with Galen right in the middle.

    This fricking guy.

    Before getting in, Elena hoped to sit next to Miles, perhaps resting her head on his shoulder. Instead, she acted too slow and Galen entered before her. Thus, she instead placed her head on the windowsill; a bad idea, as it hurt every time they hit a bump.

    Meanwhile, a conversation took place in the seats before her. ¡°Are you sure we got the location right?¡± Leila asked.

    ¡°Well, no. His instructions were¡­ pretty vague. But a large meadow with zinnias on the outskirts of the city can only refer to Tumba de Beatriz.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Elena asked, intrigued by the Spanish name.

    ¡°It¡¯s one of the many meadows found along Route 40.¡±

    Leaving the city of Catella in most cardinal directions led to either sea or to forbidden land. But to the southeast, on Route 40, the Kingdom¡¯s most important trade route, it was possible to appreciate the beauty of the country¡¯s many colors.

    It is said that, to incentivize trade between the towns bordering the southern coast, the Goddess orchestrated a project to plant a wide variety of flowers all along Route 5. Some historians cast doubt on this theory, but in any case, it results in a journey filled with the diverse colors of sunflowers, marigolds, and, most relevant to them, zinnias.

    The group arrived at Tumba de Beatriz, getting off the carriage (except for Charles, who remained trapped in the trunk). A swath of zinnias bathing in the sunlight received them. Most wore vibrant pinks and oranges for their petals. But there were a shocking amount of dead flowers mixed in, tarnishing the overall picture with their uncanny brown roots. It felt both unnerving and appropriate, as if they foretold the ugly secret that hid underneath the picturesque landscape.

    ¡°So, what do we do now? Do we just¡­ dig a hole?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°That is unfeasible,¡± responded Miles, taking her suggestion far more seriously than she¡¯d meant it to be. ¡°The Kingdom uses an advanced mechanism to prevent intruders from reaching their camps.¡±

    Galen, sitting next to him, added, ¡°We don¡¯t fully comprehend how they function, but we believe they use machines powered by Earth Crystals to allow entrance to the depths below.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, I see¡­¡± As Elena began to ponder their situation, her eyes became fixated on something to her right. ¡°Over there! Look!¡±

    Fortune was on their side¡ªand not on that of the people who were approaching them.

    Like a caravan, a line of people strolled the grassy plains. Among their ranks were men young and old, as well as women and children. Most wore nothing but plain, brown robes that barely fit them; others, most often female, walked in the nude. The only exception were a group of young men, whose attire consisted of military uniforms.

    The Dead Sea Pirates, moving as one, all hid behind a nearby tree. Elena took a moment to realize, standing alone foolishly, but followed along upon realizing.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­ this is where they bring the Marked sentenced to death!¡± Elena exclaimed.

    ¡°So Charles was right,¡± remarked Galen.

    But the question still remained. Where was the entrance to the supposed bunker?

    The answer came immediately.

    A brittle yet noticeable earthquake broke the tranquil aura of the environment. The Zinnias refused to remain stationary, and began to hop along to the earth¡¯s vibration. A large area then was left without flowers, occupied only by the green of grass¡ªand there, a large hole appeared.

    Like a lid being removed from a jar, a piece of soft earth began to float in the air, revealing a staircase that led downward. The soldiers instructed their prisoners to descend down the flight of stairs, to the sound of much protest.

    ¡°This is our chance. Let¡¯s go!¡± said Elena.

    Before she could run off, Leila reprimanded her. ¡°Hold on. We can¡¯t just go there guns-blazing. We¡¯ll alert everyone that way.¡±

    ¡°But we have no choice! Who knows when else will that entrance show up again!¡± Elena complained.

    ¡°Leila¡¯s right. We must make use of the element of surprise,¡± said Miles.

    ¡°But¡­¡± She sighed, having Miles of all people be the one to shoot her down.

    ¡°Bronson and I will try to look into ways to make it inside,¡± spoke Miles further. ¡°You three interrogate Charles some more. He might be hiding some hints.¡±

    ¡°Psst, you don¡¯t have to ask,¡± said Leila, smugly.

    The group continued talking, but their voices bounced off Elena¡¯s ears. Her eyes became fixated on the poor prisoners, who were pushed by way of blade to march to their deaths. She felt as if she could read all of their minds, as if she could taste the dread over what their future would entail.

    Each of them were a person. Each of them, had a change of being tortured, of being killed.

    The longer they stood around, the better the odds that every single person she could see would lose their lives.

    But in the name of maximizing success, that was a necessary risk. It was the proper course of action, as to strike recklessly could result in not only the deaths of the prisoners, but also in the death of Miles, of Bronson, Leila, Galen, and yes, even in the death of Prince Charles himself.

    Thus, she had to make do with staring from afar, powerless to do more.

    That was the proper, cautious thing to do.

    And then, her sight would prevent her from doing the proper, cautious thing to do.

    It was too far to make out properly, but her eyes would need to be shameless liars to make up such a thrilling vista from nothing.

    A young girl of silver hair, whose steps lacked assuredness.

    She couldn¡¯t confirm her identity from that distance. But it still proved enough. For any and all caution to be thrown out the window.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go!¡±

    To her bold declaration, the entire team reacted with shock.

    Galen gasped. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Are you suicidal?¡± Leila exclaimed.

    Elena smirked. ¡°Well, yes, but that¡¯s beside the point.¡± She thumped her chest, swelling with boldness. ¡°I¡¯ll sneak among the other Marked. Once there, I¡¯ll try to find a way to open the entrance for you guys.¡±

    Although her plan had some solid reasoning, it still proved unnerving to her companions. To Miles especially.

    ¡°Elena¡­ if you do this, I won¡¯t be able to protect you. You realize you could die, right?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry,¡± Elena said. She paused, searching for words worthy of following. The search proved unfruitful, as Elena could not justify her seemingly random burst of confidence.

    In truth, her bravado was no more than an act. She deemed herself unworthy of wielding courage, as she knew that was a quality she lacked. But what she did possess, was a special ability unique to her, one that allowed her to circumvent death itself.

    For normal humans, fear of death is what prevents them from performing dangerous deeds. If she was a normal human, the possibility of dying would cause her to hesitate, and make her reconsider her quest to save Cordelia.

    For better or for worse, she was not a normal human. Her ability to be so had been stripped off her the moment she arrived on this world.

    Nothing then, could ever stop her.

    ¡°You can count on me! If these bastards want me dead, then I¡¯ll make sure to live. I¡¯ll remain a thorn in their side until you can come and rescue me!¡±

    With those words, Elena expressed her conviction. She could not explain her powers, but she hoped the light shining from her eyes would prove enough to convince him.

    ¡°You will rescue me, won¡¯t you?¡± she said, teasingly.

    She would save Cordelia, and Miles would save her. That was the way her relationship with both siblings worked. And she liked it that way.

    With a tired sigh, Miles could not help but raise his fist, bow his head, and respond, ¡°Yes. I will save you. That¡¯s a promise.¡±

    His earnest expression. The warmth of his voice. Elena could lose herself in those golden eyes for hours, swimming in their sweet caramel. But at that moment, he was not her utmost priority.

    Right now, saving the girl she so deeply esteemed was all that mattered.

    With a quick weave to the rest of the group, Elena dashed madly across the plains.

 CH 21: Ill Change This World

    The flames had long subsided. Oxygen filled her lungs and her skin regained its pristine state; no burns, no charred skin, simply a girl whose beauty could sprout jealousy within the moon itself.

    The environment she found herself in, meanwhile, differed in its entirety.

    Steel walls of an entrapping, pale gray tint, with only the brown of rust to break some of its monotony. The air seemed to distort itself to feel as damp as possible, mixing the stench of sweat to create the most unpleasant of odors.

    Reviving from her last death, Elena¡¯s head recoiled, her view of the world seeming to tremble as she regained her consciousness.

    ¡°You, little Princess there, get to work! You¡¯re gonna get them mad at all of us.¡±

    The sound caused further knockback within her newborn senses. She violently shook her head, forcing reality to regain sense.

    The order had come not from a guard or knight, but from a fellow prisoner, a woman of bulky build clad in a brown robe that lacked any ornaments. Chunks of her hair had been ripped from the back of her head, revealing what looked to be a number 189.

    Most perplexing, was what her hands were doing. Before her passed an assembly line. Her role was assembling crystals, which the conveyor belt then led toward a box.

    Elena approached the woman, and asked, ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°What do you think?¡± she replied, irritated. ¡°Trying to survive, of course.¡±

    The exhaustion was written all over her. Not just in her tone, but in the way her hands moved. They were like a machine, repetitive in their motions, only that unlike an actual machine her movements showed signs of slowing down.

    Elena was confused at first by her answer to her question, but as she looked around herself, the unfolding reality stripped her of any and all doubt.

    All around them, there were other prisoners like the two of them, working the assembly line. At its start, green liquid was poured into a container, which was then transported across many spots to produce a final product: an Earth Crystal.

    Elena held in the vomit forming in her mouth. What she could not hold in, however, were her words of disgust at such a sight.

    ¡°You are building crystal off the blood of your brethren?¡± she yelled.

    Those outrageous words caused the woman to bonk her fists on the conveyor belt, before turning and raising her head to meet Elena¡¯s eyes, ¡°It is that, or getting leashed. At best. At worst¡±¡ªher voice mellowed out, her gaze cast down¡ª ¡±you are sent to the cremation chambers.¡±

    Elena¡¯s heart thumped her chest at what the woman was conveying. She and the rest of the workers surrounding them all shared the same lack of spirit within their eyes. They were beings who had succumbed to their fate, who¡¯d accepted they had no choice but to either work or die.

    The woman then exclaimed, ¡°I don¡¯t know who you think you are with that snazzy attire, but if you¡¯re not a guard, then get used to your new life.¡±

    With her white dress of fine silk and elaborate adorning in the shape of a crow and a cicada, Elena stuck out like a sore thumb. Her perfect skin also betrayed the notion that she might have spent time working there; dirt and sweat were the only creams that embellished the faces of everybody else.

    She was an outsider to this factory, someone whose soul remained unbroken by the evils of forced labor.

    This was unlike the woman before her, who slammed her eyes shut, and said, ¡°Now do your part!¡± Work! Work, work, work, until you¡¯re too old to work¡± Her exasperation and despair were evident in that last part, which she repeated like a mantra. She bit her lower lip, then softly added, ¡°Then they¡¯ll cremate you. One last use out of your tired bones.¡±

    ¡°I am not going to,¡± Elena revoked.

    ¡°What? Do you have a death wish?¡± the woman answered, befuddled by the strange girl¡¯s behavior. ¡°Or are you so naive as to think you have a choice?¡±

    Ignoring her question, Elena further observed her surroundings, this time paying attention to what lay above her head. She noticed a wide glass window, placed to observe those working at the assembly line.

    And that¡¯s when she spotted a most familiar sight.

    ¡°I have to go. But before I do, could you tell me your name?¡±

    ¡°Huh? 189.¡±

    ¡°No, your real name.¡±

    ¡°Why do you care?¡±

    ¡°I just do. Answer me.¡±

    With a sigh, the woman revealed her name. ¡°Amelia.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Nice to meet you, Amelia.¡±

    With a wave, Elena dashed in the direction of the window.

    Elena, who came from Earth, knew a thing or two of working until old age. It was a notion, a way of life, for which she always held disdain. She was not one to judge a person¡¯s worth and virtue for how much sweat their body could produce. Any system where refusal or inability to work meant death was a system she disapproved of.

    Thus, there was only one fate she could envision for this dreadful labor camp: complete destruction of everything it stood for.

    It was with that frame of mind that she¡¯d asked for that woman¡¯s name.

    She made a promise. To that girl who burned to death right within her grasp. That they¡¯d make it through. That a better world for everyone would be built by her hands.

    Thus, the reason she asked for Amelia¡¯s name was simply to boost her own resolve.

    As she was one of the millions of lives for whom she was fighting for.

    <hr>

    For better or for worse, Elena was not a selfless being.

    Despite stating she¡¯d fight for the sake of everyone, there were still people her heart prioritized.

    The correct course of action was to try to find that machine she¡¯d seen before, to open the gates for Miles and the others to make it inside and tear the place asunder.

    But the picture that window had revealed took control of her body, and so, toward its direction she was propelled.

    Sneaking past the guards stationed nearby, Elena opened a door to an area overseeing the Crystal Factory, and before finishing closing the door, a name leaped out of her mouth.

    ¡°Cordelia!¡±

    There she was. Within the depths of a most dreadful place, but safe, without a scratch on her light-brown skin.

    The girl¡¯s profile met her call, but to her horror, it was with indifference. Cordelia¡¯s eyes remained fixated on the world beyond the window, while her arms showed no change to their motions, remaining set on sweeping the floor.

    Reacting to the lack of response, Elena breathed a tired sigh, and raced toward her body. ¡°You are alive! We need to get out of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do not touch me,¡± Cordelia said, in monotone, slapping away Elena¡¯s approaching hand, with a motion that was twitchy but devoid of much force.

    Elena glanced in confusion. Cordelia, who rarely showed strong will, staunchly rejected her touch.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? I¡¯m trying to get you out of here,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°I am fine here. You are not needed,¡± was Cordelia¡¯s response, straightforward but with a hint of apathy to her voice.

    ¡°W¡ªwhat?¡± Elena¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Are you blind? Can you not see how terrible this place is?¡±

    Once Elena¡¯s question was raised, Cordelia¡¯s slim fingers tightened their grip on the broomstick. The sweeping motion the broom was performing was put on pause.

    ¡°I remain alive. That is all that matters.¡±

    A cold response. So cold, Elena could feel time itself freeze.

    Silence had overtaken the room, but not in its entirety. From outside, the sound of profanities and cracking whips snuck in the form of whispers.

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. Are you saying you want to stay here?¡±

    ¡°I am unhurt. That is all that matters.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a slave!¡± Elena yelled, unwilling to sugarcoat the scenario.

    ¡°Master Thales keeps me safe. That is all that matters.¡±

    ¡°Thales?¡± Elena furrowed her brow at the mention of that man¡¯s name. ¡°That man is running this hell house in here, and you¡¯re speaking glowingly of him.¡±

    ¡°Lady Elena¡­¡±

    Elena was taken aback, her eyebrows raising at the speed of rockets.

    Cordelia¡­ that girl she¡¯d put so much of her heart at risk to reach¡­ she was staring dead-straight at her, while referring to her with a formality she thought they¡¯d grown past.

    ¡°...I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, but here I am alive and cared for. That is a blessing of the highest order for a Marked such as myself.¡±

    <hr>

    Cordelia.

    She knew that word. She knew it was her name.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    But she did not know the relevance of it being her name. More than a name, it was a memory. A memory she¡¯d inherited from what felt like a past life.

    She didn¡¯t recall much from those days, her mind too underdeveloped back then. But while the pictures her mind had collected were fuzzy, she knew there was a before and an after, a moment of separation between her two lives.

    Without notice, the blue skies and seas that gave color to her life were replaced by dreary grays and browns. The blowing winds that would caress her skin gave way to the hurtful bite of whips and lashes.

    The moment those sceneries disappeared, so too did the significance of that name.

    Cordelia.

    She hid that name deep in her chest, locked somewhere within its confines where nobody, not even herself, could make use of it. When called to, only to the sound of numbers did she answer.

    ¡°Number 36, come here!¡±

    ¡°Yes, master.¡±

    One day, she was taken away from those dreary walls. Sunny fields full of cotton now surrounded her, and with it came the return of wind, albeit one much warmer than the ones from the sea.

    But even with the change of scenery, the whippings did not reside.

    ¡°Number 27, you sniveling rat, take this.¡±

    The number assigned to her had changed. The colors surrounding her had changed. Her age had changed.

    But the pain remained.

    It was a never-ending cycle. Moving everywhere across the continent, her body collecting scratches and wounds like souvenirs.

    As she grew older, she began to understand more and more. That she was a ¡°slave¡±, that there was something called ¡°freedom¡± that she lacked, and that some of her fellow brethren yearned for it.

    But she didn¡¯t care. They were concepts foreign to her life, and thus she failed to make sense of them.

    Her only wish was for the pain to go away.

    And one day, a rush of wind granted that desire.

    The man holding a whip above her head morphed into red paste. The golden arc of a sweeping blade cut through his stomach, a large hole where skin once resided.

    The bursting blood spiked her face, dyeing the world before her with its tint. Her eyes nonetheless remained observant and unblinking, as the man who was meant to harm her dropped dead to the ground.

    All the while, blowing winds once again caressed her face, unlocking a memory from before she could form memories.

    There was a melting of emotions. Her uneducated mind lacked the resources to precisely pinpoint what she was feeling.

    And before she could come to grips with what she¡¯d witnessed, a large, imposing figure approached her. He held a weapon as he glanced down at her, causing her to shiver in response.

    To her surprise, he withdrew said weapon, kneeled down, and reached out his hand. His features became discernible. He had wrinkles on his face, gray hair, and scars on his forehead. But despite that, something about the man¡¯s face calmed her. Perhaps it was the warmth his eyes conveyed, or the smile his lips formed.

    ¡°Tell me your name,¡± the man said, patting her hair.

    The girl hesitated to reply. So many numbers had been assigned to her, in such a short span of time, she didn¡¯t even really remember what the correct response should be. The lashings had helped block out such an important detail.

    Her mind searched further. She traveled back through time, to that life she had barely any recollection of. And within the reaches of that foregone world of sea, there was where the answer to his question was hidden.

    ¡°Cordelia.¡±

    She spoke that name. For the first time in this life of hers, she had given sound to that word.

    It caused her eardrums to recoil a bit; such was the shock of hearing her own name.

    But it caused no such reaction in the man before her, who instead narrowed his eyes and simply said, ¡°That¡¯s a lovely name.¡±

    That was the day Cordelia was saved.

    <hr>

    Her childish eyes were on a feast.

    Once again, her world had changed its hue. Walls and ceilings surrounded her, but they were carefully crafted, full of patterns and eye-catching colors. There was clear intent behind their design, built to please the human eye.

    ¡°Cordelia, meet Number 8. She will teach you the ropes around the Palace.¡±

    ¡°Aww. What a cute girl.¡±

    The woman Thales was introducing to Cordelia met her with a smile, albeit one with clear cracks in its sincerity. The plain brown robes she wore contrasted with her silky-smooth skin, as well as with the intricate wall patterns that lay behind her. She was not too advanced in age, around her forties or fifties, but next to Cordelia¡¯s childish frame she appeared ancient.

    Perhaps most notable, she had a large, blue brand on her forehead, of a similar pattern to the one Cordelia had on her arm.

    ¡°My name is C¡ªCordelia,¡± she said, her voice so brittle it could break.

    As the woman heard that name, her eyes widened, and then she gave Thales a look of concern.

    ¡°So long as you remain here, you shall be known as Number 9,¡± explained the woman. ¡°And call me Number 8.¡±

    She patted the young girl¡¯s hair, before taking her by the hand and guiding her through the palace.

    Number 8 became Cordelia¡¯s teacher. How to clean, how to cook, even how to read. Those were all teachings acquired through Number 8¡¯s tutelage.

    But perhaps most important, Number 8 taught her how to survive. How not to enrage her patrons, the best techniques to avoid beatings. She¡¯d taught her magic, including how to heal her and other¡¯s wounds. But was instructed to use it only in private, else she¡¯d be rightfully punished for going against the Goddess¡¯ will.

    And Cordelia took those teachings to heart.

    Whenever the Royal Family ordered anything, Cordelia learned to oblige without complaint.

    Whenever Sir Thales requested anything out of her, Cordelia also followed his orders. Not only because he was her superior, but because she remained indebted to him.

    It was thanks to his sword, after all, that Cordelia¡¯s world had changed.

    He was the reason she could sleep every night in a soft bed. He was to thank for her belly being filled and her thirst being quenched.

    Every once in a while, she¡¯d hear whispers from Number 8 about concepts such as ¡°freedom¡± and ¡°rebellion¡±.

    They remained foreign to her.

    She¡¯d become content with her way of life. If there were further peaks for her life to reach, she had no intent of climbing toward them.

    Why would she, when the fear of falling remained present within her?

    One night, Number 8 was slain.

    That same blade that once carved Cordelia¡¯s new way of life also brought an end to that of her mentor, creating a wound on her stomach that resulted in a sharp, sudden demise.

    Before even cleaning the blood off his weapon, Thales, the finest of the Kingdom¡¯s knights, placed his hand on the shoulder of Cordelia, who silently observed the unmoving body that¡¯d become besmirched by blood and guts.

    ¡°Such is the fate of those who harbor dangerous ideas in this Kingdom.¡± Thales sounded ashamed, showing pity for the very woman his hands had killed. ¡°It is a shame her life had to end like this, but alas, I am only a sword who follows the Divine Decree.¡±

    The words he was saying sparked confusion within Cordelia, who stared up at him with her pale blue eyes. Thales, perceptive of the young girl¡¯s gaze, gave her a smile not unlike that of their first meeting.

    And without any further changes in his expression, he sternly said, ¡°So from now on, follow my every command. Otherwise you will end up like her.¡±

    Slowly but surely, Thales began to give her new orders. For her to undress, to run her hands down places she didn¡¯t even know men had.

    Cordelia happily obliged.

    Her body, ever since birth, had been cursed with that putrid brand, and all it¡¯d ever been good for was enduring whippings and beatings. These sensations that Thales was making her feel were new, and confusing at times. But compared to that pain from before, they proved soothing. On the right day, they were even pleasurable.

    If this was the price for not ending up like Number 8, then she would pay it with gusto.

    Everything was fair for her, so long as she never felt pain again. So long as she stayed alive.

    <hr>

    ¡°Bullshit.¡±

    Just that word. That was Elena¡¯s only rebuke to the truth she¡¯d just learned.

    ¡°Bullshit. Can you not see the way that fucker groomed you? How he abused you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t comprehend what those words mean, but I do not need your input. I would like to remind you that it is due to meeting you that I was sentenced to death. Meanwhile, It is only due to Sir Thales¡¯ grace that I remain alive.¡°

    Elena¡¯s heart stopped beating for the entire time it took for her to process Cordelia¡¯s words.

    ¡°Are you saying¡­ I¡¯m the reason you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Cordelia answered without a second of pause. ¡°When I first cast magic in the city streets in order to protect you, Thales pleaded to the King to forgive me. It worked, but then the very next day I was caught using healing magic on your body, and the King was not as forgiving in this instance.¡±

    Elena could feel the soreness of her throat increase with every word of Cordelia¡¯s explanation. It was a feeling most despicable, one that threatened to taint her very soul.

    This girl whom she swore to save¡­ that girl had only been harmed by her actions, by her very arrival into her life.

    If her feelings toward Cordelia had never existed, then she¡¯d be currently in the palace, without freedom but at least without fear of death.

    ¡°But worry not,¡± Cordelia remarked. ¡°Thanks to Sir Thales¡¯ goodwill, I have avoided the Cremation Chambers, as well as some of the harshest lines of work.¡±

    ¡°Goodwill, you say?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Yes. He has even arranged a room for me to sleep in, featuring a bed.¡±

    A situation utterly despicable.

    Cordelia had been the one to utter it, yet it was Elena who understood the hidden meaning of that word.

    So long as he could keep using her body, Thales would not allow Cordelia to die. That was what this ¡°Goodwill¡± of his entailed.

    At that knowledge, Elena readied her vocal cords to speak. She wanted to explain, to reveal the barbarity of that man¡¯s intentions.

    Cordelia¡¯s furious gaze silenced her before she could even begin to speak. Those blue eyes she¡¯d once been so smitten by were now rejecting her soul.

    She¡¯d been trying to impose her own will on the girl called Cordelia, ignorant of her needs, indifferent to her desires. Despite being a Marked herself, her behavior had been that of privilege, a privilege brought over from her past life on Earth. She thus had failed to see the situation from the perspective of one born in this world, acting on values that proved far too naive.

    It was only fair, then, for Cordelia to push back against her, for those eyes built of sea to not share the same priorities as hers. To reject freedom was a notion incomprehensible to Elena, as sensible as that of rejecting air. But to Cordelia, who¡¯d never known such a thing as freedom in the first place, it was something she believed she could do without.

    These were perspectives alien to one another, simply incompatible. So long as that breach between their worldviews existed, it was undue for Elena to continue imposing her will. Who was she to claim what was best for this girl? All her efforts had accomplished was delivering further suffering to someone she claimed to esteem.

    That was the conclusion at which she wanted to arrive. The judgment she deemed most appropriate.

    But she couldn¡¯t.

    She wasn¡¯t quite ready to accept that hypothesis, as there remained a small sparkle of doubt brewing within her heart. A glimmer of hope that her actions had not been entirely misguided, that there was more to the story than what Cordelia was revealing.

    ¡°Cordelia.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lady Elena.¡±

    Elena clenched her fists. ¡°Why did you heal me?¡±

    Stone-faced, Elena had raised her question, and the impact on Cordelia proved immediate. The silver-haired girl recoiled, taking a step back, and bringing her hand to her chest, to catch her heart in case it decided to jump out.

    ¡°Why did you use magic, which is supposedly forbidden, just to protect me?¡±

    Elena continued striking, fishing out an answer out of Cordelia, who began to tremble with doubt, yet remained devoid of a response.

    ¡°Answer me!¡± Elena ordered, now in the form of a roar.

    She remained silent, but Cordelia answered all the same. The way her face contorted revealed the truth of her emotions.

    Deep down, in the same place she¡¯d once stored her name, hid a tinge of desire within Cordelia. A desire for freedom, a yearning to escape the harsh life of a slave. Otherwise, why would she have done that which is taboo?

    If Elena could bring that desire to life, if she could be for Cordelia a window into a new life. Then no matter how unethical, how unwise, she would¡ª

    ¡°Silence, Elena.¡±

    The one to answer Elena¡¯s words was not Cordelia, but a person who¡¯d just arrived to the room, and who carried with his very being an aura of dread.

    ¡°Thales!¡± Elena shouted. ¡°You bastard. I am going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°To what? You are powerless here,¡± said Thales.

    Elena gulped. Her anger had blinded her, and she¡¯d underestimated the danger of the situation, insulting the man at a time when every second mattered.

    Her eyes sought a way out, but it was pointless.

    ¡°Let me go, you creep!¡± Elena screeched, her body held up by Thales¡¯ bony hands. She punched his chest, but her fists bounced off him, causing as much damage to him as would a piece of soap.

    ¡°Cordelia, please remain here and await for further orders. And forget anything this woman has told you,¡± he commanded.

    ¡°Y¡ªYes, Sir Thales,¡± answered Cordelia, sounding wheezy.

    ¡°Is that hesitation I hear in you, Cordelia?¡± said Thales, raising his chin.

    ¡°No, Sir Thales,¡± Cordelia said, returning to her usual, monotone form of speech, pulling up the hem of her dress.

    ¡°That¡¯s pleasant to hear.¡±

    With that final remark, Thales left the room, bringing Elena in tow to a place unknown.

 Ch 22: Staying Alive

    The flames had long subsided. Oxygen filled her lungs and her skin regained its pristine state; no burns, no charred skin, simply a girl whose beauty could sprout jealousy within the moon itself.

    The environment she found herself in, meanwhile, differed in its entirety.

    Steel walls of an entrapping, pale gray tint, with only the brown of rust to break some of its monotony. The air seemed to distort itself to feel as damp as possible, mixing the stench of sweat to create the most unpleasant of odors.

    Reviving from her last death, Elena¡¯s head recoiled, her view of the world seeming to tremble as she regained her consciousness.

    ¡°You, little Princess there, get to work! You¡¯re gonna get them mad at all of us.¡±

    The sound caused further knockback within her newborn senses. She violently shook her head, forcing reality to regain sense.

    The order had come not from a guard or knight, but from a fellow prisoner, a woman of bulky build clad in a brown robe that lacked any ornaments. Chunks of her hair had been ripped from the back of her head, revealing what looked to be a number 189.

    Most perplexing, was what her hands were doing. Before her passed an assembly line. Her role was assembling crystals, which the conveyor belt then led toward a box.

    Elena approached the woman, and asked, ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°What do you think?¡± she replied, irritated. ¡°Trying to survive, of course.¡±

    The exhaustion was written all over her. Not just in her tone, but in the way her hands moved. They were like a machine, repetitive in their motions, only that unlike an actual machine her movements showed signs of slowing down.

    Elena was confused at first by her answer to her question, but as she looked around herself, reality itself removed her of any and all doubt.

    All around them, there were other prisoners like the two of them, working the assembly line. At its start, green liquid poured into a container, which was then transported across many spots to produce a final product: an Earth Crystal.

    Elena held in the vomit forming in her mouth. What she could not hold in however, were her words of disgust at such a sight.

    ¡°You are building crystal off the blood of your brethren?¡± she yelled.

    Those outrageous words caused the woman to bonk her fists on the conveyor belt, before turning and raising her head to meet Elena¡¯s eyes, ¡°It is that, or getting leashed. At best. At worst¡±¡ªher voice mellowed out, her gaze cast down¡ª ¡±you are sent to the cremation chambers.¡±

    Elena¡¯s heart thumped her chest at what the woman was conveying. She and the rest of the workers surrounding them all shared the same lack of spirit within their eyes. They were beings who had succumbed to their fate, who¡¯d accepted they had no choice but to either work or die.

    The woman then exclaimed, ¡°I don¡¯t know who you think you are with that snazzy attire, but if you¡¯re not a guard, then get used to your new life.¡±

    With her white dress of fine silk and elaborate adorning in the shape of a crow and a cicada, Elena stuck out like a sore thumb. Her perfect skin also betrayed the notion that she might have spent time working there; dirt and sweat were the only creams that embellished the faces of everybody else.

    She was an outsider to this factory, someone whose soul remained unbroken by the evils of forced labor.

    This was unlike the woman before her, who slammed her eyes shut, and said, ¡°Now do your part!¡± Work! Work, work, work, until you¡¯re too old to work¡± Her exasperation and despair were evident in that last part, which she repeated like a mantra. She bit her lower lip, then softly added, ¡°Then they¡¯ll cremate you. One last use out of your tired bones.¡±

    ¡°I am not going to,¡± Elena revoked.

    ¡°What? Do you have a death wish?¡± the woman answered, befuddled by the strange girl¡¯s behavior. ¡°Or are you so naive as to think you have a choice?¡±

    Ignoring her question, Elena further observed her surroundings, this time paying attention to what lay above her head. She noticed a wide glass window, placed to observe those working at the assembly line.

    And that¡¯s when she spotted a most familiar sight.

    ¡°I have to go. But before I do, could you tell me your name?¡±

    ¡°Huh? 189.¡±

    ¡°No, your real name.¡±

    ¡°Why do you care?¡±

    ¡°I just do. Answer me.¡±

    With a sigh, the woman revealed her name. ¡°Amelia.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Nice to meet you, Amelia.¡±

    With a wave, Elena dashed in the direction of the window.

    Elena, who came from Earth, knew a thing or two of working until old age. It was a notion, a way of life, for which she always held disdain. She was not one to judge a person¡¯s worth and virtue for how much sweat their body could produce. Any system where refusal or inability to work meant death was a system she disapproved of.

    Thus, there was only one fate she could envision for this dreadful labor camp: complete destruction of everything it stood for.

    It was with that frame of mind that she¡¯d asked for that woman¡¯s name.

    She made a promise. To that girl who burned to death right within her grasp. That they¡¯d make it through. That a better world for everyone would be built by her hands.

    Thus, the reason she asked for Amelia¡¯s name was simply to boost her own resolve.

    As she was one of the millions of lives for whom she was fighting for.

    <hr>

    For better or for worse, Elena was not a selfless being.

    Despite stating she¡¯d fight for the sake of everyone, there were still people her heart prioritized.

    The correct course of action was to try to find that machine she¡¯d seen before, to open the gates for Miles and the others to make it inside and tear the place asunder.

    But the picture that window had revealed took control of her body, and so, toward its direction she was propelled.

    Sneaking past the guards stationed nearby, Elena opened a door to an area overseeing the Crystal Factory, and before finishing closing the door, a name leaped out of her mouth.

    ¡°Cordelia!¡±

    There she was. Within the depths of a most dreadful place, but safe, without a scratch on her light-brown skin.

    The girl¡¯s profile met her call, but to her horror, it was with indifference. Cordelia¡¯s eyes remained fixated on the world beyond the window, while her arms showed no change to their motions, remaining set on sweeping the floor.

    Reacting to the lack of response, Elena breathed a tired sigh, and raced toward her body. ¡°You are alive! We need to get out of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do not touch me,¡± Cordelia said, in monotone, slapping away Elena¡¯s approaching hand, with a motion that was twitchy but devoid of much force.

    Elena glanced in confusion. Cordelia, who rarely showed strong will, staunchly rejected her touch.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? I¡¯m trying to get you out of here,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°I am fine here. You are not needed,¡± was Cordelia¡¯s response, straightforward but with a hint of apathy to her voice.

    ¡°W¡ªwhat?¡± Elena¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Are you blind? Can you not see how terrible this place is?¡±

    Once Elena¡¯s question was raised, Cordelia¡¯s slim fingers tightened their grip on the broomstick. The sweeping motion the broom was performing was put on pause.

    ¡°I remain alive. That is all that matters.¡±

    A cold response. So cold, Elena could feel time itself freeze.

    Silence had overtaken the room, but not in its entirety. From outside, the sound of profanities and cracking whips snuck in the form of whispers.

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. Are you saying you want to stay here?¡±

    ¡°I am unhurt. That is all that matters.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a slave!¡± Elena yelled, unwilling to sugarcoat the scenario.

    ¡°Master Thales keeps me safe. That is all that matters.¡±

    ¡°Thales?¡± Elena furrowed her brow at the mention of that man¡¯s name. ¡°That man is running this hell house in here, and you¡¯re speaking glowingly of him.¡±

    ¡°Lady Elena¡­¡±

    Elena was taken aback, her eyebrows raising at the speed of rockets.

    Cordelia¡­ that girl she¡¯d put so much of her heart at risk to reach¡­ she was staring dead-straight at her, while referring to her with a formality she thought they¡¯d grown past.

    ¡°...I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, but here I am alive and cared for. That is a blessing of the highest order for a Marked such as myself.¡±

    <hr>

    Cordelia.

    She knew that word. She knew it was her name.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    But she did not know the relevance of it being her name. More than a name, it was a memory. A memory she¡¯d inherited from what felt like a past life.

    She didn¡¯t recall much from those days, her mind too underdeveloped back then. But while the pictures her mind had collected were fuzzy, she knew there was a before and an after, a moment of separation between her two lives.

    Without notice, the blue skies and seas that gave color to her life were replaced by dreary grays and browns. The blowing winds that would caress her skin gave way to the hurtful bite of whips and lashes.

    The moment those sceneries disappeared, so too did the significance of that name.

    Cordelia.

    She hid that name deep in her chest, locked somewhere within its confines where nobody, not even herself, could make use of it. When called to, only to the sound of numbers did she answer.

    ¡°Number 36, come here!¡±

    ¡°Yes, master.¡±

    One day, she was taken away from those dreary walls. Sunny fields full of cotton now surrounded her, and with it came the return of wind, albeit one much warmer than the ones from the sea.

    But even with the change of scenery, the whippings did not reside.

    ¡°Number 27, you sniveling rat, take this.¡±

    The number assigned to her had changed. The colors surrounding her had changed. Her age had changed.

    But the pain remained.

    It was a never-ending cycle. Moving everywhere across the continent, her body collecting scratches and wounds like souvenirs.

    As she grew older, she began to understand more and more. That she was a ¡°slave¡±, that there was something called ¡°freedom¡± that she lacked, and that some of her fellow brethren yearned for it.

    But she didn¡¯t care. They were concepts foreign to her life, and thus she failed to make sense of them.

    Her only wish was for the pain to go away.

    And one day, a rush of wind granted that desire.

    The man holding a whip above her head morphed into red paste. The golden arc of a sweeping blade cut through his stomach, a large hole where skin once resided.

    The bursting blood spiked her face, dyeing the world before her with its tint. Her eyes nonetheless remained observant and unblinking, as the man who was meant to harm her dropped dead to the ground.

    All the while, blowing winds once again caressed her face, unlocking a memory from before she could form memories.

    There was a melting of emotions. Her uneducated mind lacked the resources to precisely pinpoint what she was feeling.

    And before she could come to grips with what she¡¯d witnessed, a large, imposing figure approached her. He held a weapon as he glanced down at her, causing her to shiver in response.

    To her surprise, he withdrew said weapon, kneeled down, and reached out his hand. His features became discernible. He had wrinkles on his face, gray hair, and scars on his forehead. But despite that, something about the man¡¯s face calmed her. Perhaps it was the warmth his eyes conveyed, or the smile his lips formed.

    ¡°Tell me your name,¡± the man said, patting her hair.

    The girl hesitated to reply. So many numbers had been assigned to her, in such a short span of time, she didn¡¯t even really remember what the correct response should be. The lashings had helped block out such an important detail.

    Her mind searched further. She traveled back through time, to that life she had barely any recollection of. And within the reaches of that foregone world of sea, there was where the answer to his question was hidden.

    ¡°Cordelia.¡±

    She spoke that name. For the first time in this life of hers, she had given sound to that word.

    It caused her eardrums to recoil a bit; such was the shock of hearing her own name.

    But it caused no such reaction in the man before her, who instead narrowed his eyes and simply said, ¡°That¡¯s a lovely name.¡±

    That was the day Cordelia was saved.

    <hr>

    Her childish eyes were on a feast.

    Once again, her world had changed its hue. Walls and ceilings surrounded her, but they were carefully crafted, full of patterns and eye-catching colors. There was clear intent behind their design, built for pleasing the human eye.

    ¡°Cordelia, meet Number 8. She will teach you the ropes around the Palace.¡±

    ¡°Aww, What a cute girl.¡±

    The woman Thales was introducing to Cordelia met her with a smile, albeit one with clear cracks in its sincerity. The plain brown robes she wore contrasted with her silky-smooth skin, as well as with the intricate wall patterns that lay behind her. She was not too advanced in age, around her forties or fifties, but next to Cordelia¡¯s childish frame she appeared ancient.

    Perhaps most notable, she had a large, blue brand on her forehead, of a similar pattern to the one Cordelia had on her arm.

    ¡°My name is C¡ªCordelia,¡± she said, her voice so brittle it could break.

    As the woman heard that name, her eyes widened, and then she gave Thales a look of concern.

    ¡°So long as you remain here, you shall be known as Number 9,¡± explained the woman. ¡°And call me Number 8.¡±

    She patted the young girl¡¯s hair, before taking her by the hand and guiding her through the palace.

    Number 8 became Cordelia¡¯s teacher. How to clean, how to cook, even how to read. Those were all teachings acquired through Number 8¡¯s tutelage.

    But perhaps most important, Number 8 taught her how to survive. How not to enrage her patrons, the best techniques to avoid beatings. She¡¯d taught her magic, including how to heal her and other¡¯s wounds. But was instructed to use it only in private, else she¡¯d be rightfully punished for going against the Goddess¡¯ will.

    And Cordelia took those teachings to heart.

    Whenever the Royal Family ordered anything, Cordelia learned to oblige without complaint.

    Whenever Sir Thales requested anything out of her, Cordelia also followed his orders. Not only because he was her superior, but because she remained indebted to him.

    It was thanks to his sword, after all, that Cordelia¡¯s world had changed.

    He was the reason she could sleep every night in a soft bed. He was to thank for her belly being filled and her thirst being quenched.

    Every once in a while, she¡¯d hear whispers from Number 8 about concepts such as ¡°freedom¡± and ¡°rebellion¡±.

    They remained foreign to her.

    She¡¯d become content with her way of life. If there were further peaks for her life to reach, she had no intent of climbing toward them.

    Why would she, fear of falling remained present within her?

    One night, Number 8 was slain.

    That same blade that once carved Cordelia¡¯s new way of life also brought an end to that of her mentor, creating a wound on her stomach that resulted in a sharp, sudden demise.

    Before even cleaning the blood off his weapon, Thales, the finest of the Kingdom¡¯s knights, placed his hand on the shoulder of Cordelia, who silently observed the unmoving body that¡¯d become besmirched by blood and guts.

    ¡°Such is the fate of those who harbor dangerous ideas in this Kingdom.¡± Thales sounded ashamed, showing pity for the very woman his hands had killed. ¡°It is a shame her life had to end like this, but alas, I am only a sword who follows the Divine Decree.¡±

    The words he was saying sparked confusion within Cordelia, who stared up at him with her pale blue eyes. Thales, perceptive of the young girl¡¯s gaze, gave her a smile not unlike that of their first meeting.

    And without any further changes in his expression, he sternly said, ¡°So from now on, follow my every command. Else you will end up like her.¡±

    Slowly but surely, Thales began to give her new orders. For her to undress, to run her hands down places she didn¡¯t even know men had.

    Cordelia happily obliged.

    Her body, ever since birth, had been cursed with that putrid brand, and all it¡¯d ever been good for was for enduring whippings and beatings. These new sensations that Thales was making her feel were strange, confusing at times, but compared to that pain from before they were soothing. On the right day, they were even pleasurable.

    If this was the price for not ending up like Number 8, then she would pay it with gusto.

    Everything was fair for her, so long as she never felt pain again. So long as she stayed alive.

    <hr>

    ¡°Bullshit.¡±

    Just that word. That was Elena¡¯s only rebuke to the truth she¡¯d just learned.

    ¡°Bullshit. Can you not see the way that fucker groomed you? How he abused you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t comprehend what those words mean, but I do not need your input. I would like to remind you that it is due to meeting you that I was sentenced to death. Meanwhile, It is only due to Sir Thales¡¯ grace that I remain alive.¡°

    Elena¡¯s heart stopped beating for the entire time it took for her to process Cordelia¡¯s words.

    ¡°Are you saying¡­ I¡¯m the reason you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Cordelia answered without a second of pause. ¡°When I first cast magic in the city streets in order to protect you, Thales pleaded to the King to forgive me. It worked, but then the very next day I was caught using healing magic on your body, and the King was not as forgiving in this instance.¡±

    Elena could feel the soreness of her throat increase with every word of Cordelia¡¯s explanation. It was a feeling most despicable, one that threatened to taint her very soul.

    This girl whom she swore to save¡­ that girl had only been harmed by her actions, by her very arrival into her life.

    If her feelings toward Cordelia had never existed, then she¡¯d be currently in the palace, without freedom but at least without fear of death.

    ¡°But worry not,¡± Cordelia remarked. ¡°Thanks to Sir Thales¡¯ goodwill, I have avoided the Cremation Chambers, as well as some of the harshest lines of work.¡±

    ¡°Goodwill, you say?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Yes. He has even arranged a room for me to sleep in, featuring a bed.¡±

    A situation utterly despicable.

    Cordelia had been the one to utter it, yet it was Elena who understood the hidden meaning of that word.

    So long as he could keep using her body, Thales would not allow Cordelia to die. That was what this ¡°Goodwill¡± of his entailed.

    At that knowledge, Elena readied her vocal cords to speak. She wanted to explain, to reveal the barbarity of that man¡¯s intentions.

    Cordelia¡¯s furious gaze silenced her before she could even begin to speak. Those blue eyes she¡¯d once been so smitten by were now rejecting her soul.

    She¡¯d been trying to impose her own will on the girl called Cordelia, ignorant of her needs, indifferent to her desires. Despite being a Marked herself, her behavior had been that of privilege, a privilege brought over from her past life on Earth. She thus had failed to see the situation from the perspective of one born in this world, acting on values that proved far too naive.

    It was only fair, then, for Cordelia to push back against her, for those eyes built of sea to not share the same priorities as hers. To reject freedom was a notion incomprehensible to Elena, as sensible as that of rejecting air. But to Cordelia, who¡¯d never known such a thing as freedom in the first place, it was something she believed she could do without.

    These were perspectives alien to one another, simply incompatible. So long as that breach between their worldviews existed, it was undue for Elena to continue imposing her will. Who was she to claim what was best for this girl? All her efforts had accomplished was delivering further suffering to someone she claimed to esteem.

    That was the conclusion at which she wanted to arrive. The judgment she deemed most appropriate.

    But she couldn¡¯t.

    She wasn¡¯t quite ready to accept that hypothesis, as there remained a small sparkle of doubt brewing within her heart. A glimmer of hope that her actions had not been entirely misguided, that there was more to the story than what Cordelia was revealing.

    ¡°Cordelia.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lady Elena.¡±

    Elena clenched her fists. ¡°Why did you heal me?¡±

    Stone faced, Elena had raised her question, and the impact on Cordelia proved immediate. The silver-haired girl recoiled, taking a step back, and bringing her hand to her chest, to catch her heart in case it decided to jump out.

    ¡°Why did you use magic, which is supposedly forbidden, just to protect me?¡±

    Elena continued striking, fishing out an answer out of Cordelia, who began to tremble with doubt, yet remained devoid of a response.

    ¡°Answer me!¡± Elena ordered, now in the form of a roar.

    She remained silent, but Cordelia answered all the same. The way her face contorted revealed the truth of her emotions.

    Deep down, in the same place she¡¯d once stored her name, hid a tinge of desire within Cordelia. A desire for freedom, a yearning to escape the harsh life of a slave. Otherwise, why would she have done that which is taboo?

    If Elena could bring that desire to life, if she could be for Cordelia a window into a new life. Then no matter how unethical, how unwise, she would¡ª

    ¡°Silence, Elena.¡±

    The one to answer Elena¡¯s words was not Cordelia, but a person who¡¯d just arrived to the room, and who carried with his very being an aura of dread.

    ¡°Thales!¡± Elena shouted. ¡°You fucker. I am going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°To what? You are powerless here,¡± said Thales.

    Elena gulped. Her anger had blinded her, and she¡¯d underestimated the danger of the situation, insulting the man at a time when every second mattered.

    Her eyes sought a way out, but it was pointless.

    ¡°Let me go, you creep!¡± Elena screeched, her body held up by Thales¡¯ bony hands. She punched his chest, but her fists plinked off him, causing as much damage to him as would a baby.

    ¡°Cordelia,¡± he said, ¡°please remain here and await for further orders. And forget anything this woman has told you.¡±

    ¡°Y¡ªYes, Sir Thales,¡± answered Cordelia, sounding wheezy.

    ¡°Is that hesitation I hear in you, Cordelia?¡± said Thales, raising his chin.

    ¡°No, Sir Thales,¡± Cordelia said, returning to her usual, monotone form of speech, pulling up the hem of her dress.

    ¡°That¡¯s pleasant to hear.¡±

    With that final remark, Thales left the room, bringing Elena in tow to a place unknown.

 CH 23: Despair Soon to End

    ¡°Let me go already!¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡±

    Following her request to the letter, Thales opened a door. He then chucked her body onto a soft bed, before locking the door; the room was simple and to the point, the walls a plain gray and lacking in adornments. The only stand-out sight was that of a table, atop which rested a small butter knife. The walls were thick, preventing screams from seeping in or out, creating a suffocating aura.

    Besides that, he and her were all alone, staring down at each other, an exchange of mutual disgust.

    ¡°For someone so fragile-looking as yourself, to willingly come to a place like this¡­ it¡¯s quite unexpected, I must admit.¡±

    The praise made Elena groan, as she wanted to hear no praise from such a man. ¡°I would say it surprises me to see a man of your stature running a place like this¡­ but I am not shocked in the slightest.¡±

    In this world, many things ran contrary to the preconceived notions instilled upon her by the stories she¡¯d consumed in her previous life. The charming prince turned out to be a pest without a spine. The handsome rogue turned out to be more awkward than suave. It was only in-brand for the veteran, chivalrous knight to turn out to be a monstrous pervert.

    ¡°You are the worst kind of man there is,¡± Elena said, furrowing her eyebrows. ¡°One that¡¯s blind to the misery of those beneath them.¡±

    ¡°Your words harm me, but thankfully they lack in bite,¡± Thales said. His piercing gaze only grew in potency as he stepped toward her. ¡°I care not for the judgment of a rabid dog grasping at straws. Especially when it is such a misunderstanding of my character.¡±

    The authoritative tone of his words sent a shiver down Elena¡¯s spine. He was refuting his accusation, claiming her words were bred out of ignorance.

    Met by such a claim, Elena raised her chin and said, ¡°Are you blind or stupid? Look around you! Everybody who steps in here fears for their lives.¡±

    Elena knew first-hand the extent of the evil taking place in this underground camp. Even those who stayed alive were dead in spirit, the labor forced upon them irreparably shattering their souls.

    ¡°I am simply carrying on the Goddess¡¯s Decree,¡± Thales answered, not a hint of emotion on his face. ¡°Were I not to be the one to do so, someone else would.¡±

    ¡°So? Is that the way you justify yourself? All that matters is that you¡¯re the one responsible for all the suffering. Even if you¡¯re following your religion¡¯s doctrine, that is no excuse for such horrendous abuse.¡±

    Elena made her argument concise and clear, trying to reason with the seasoned knight. To her, no order from no Goddess was above and beyond the rights of men.

    He answered with a hearty laugh. ¡°Gahahaha, do you really believe all that nonsense matters to me?¡± he said. ¡°You are correct, darling, no words exist that can justify such brutality.¡±

    Elena was shocked¡ªThales agreed with her. She narrowed her eyes, then said, ¡°What? Did you suddenly have a change of mind?¡±

    ¡°No, milady. I am nothing if not consistent.¡± Thales sauntered around the room aimlessly, as he cracked a smile¡ªan uncanny one, not just for how uncommon a sight that was, but because of how devilish that grin of his looked. ¡°The Goddess demands we punish the Marked who break the taboo. The Kingdom, in turn, pays handsomely for those willing to step up to such a task.¡±

    ¡°So money is all you want?¡± Elena said, repulsed.

    ¡°Of course not. No gold is worth the cost of poisoning one¡¯s soul. Only one reward is worthy for a man willing to step on their own morals.

    ¡°What are you¡ª¡±

    Her question trailed off, as the reality of the situation presented itself to her senses. The softness of the bed she was sitting on and the lustfulness of his gaze came together to cause a quake that shook her very core.

    ¡°Luzterna¡¯s hateful policies create vulnerable women and children. I think that¡¯s something we can both agree on,¡± Thales said.

    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is¡ª¡±

    His explanation only further brewed her hatred for him, her opinion of the man somehow sinking lower and lower.

    Elena had indeed misjudged him. He was not the kind of man that Elena believed he was; the kind to obediently carry out his country¡¯s doctrine without question. He was far too cunning and astute to be such a man.

    No, the kind of man Thales turned out to be was far more despicable.

    ¡°I have fought bravely in the name of this kingdom, to the point of placing its safety above that of my lover. Is it not fair to at least be rewarded? To be pleasured by any woman I want? It¡¯s a fair deal for them, too¡ªthey get to avoid death, via the privilege of my protection.¡±

    Thales was the kind of man who understood his role in society, and had decided to take full advantage of it. For Thales, his reward was control. Power. Through his role in the military, he got close to women whose lives were on the brink of extinguishing. Desperate to cling to life in any shape or form, these women gave in to his demands, powerless to escape death in any other way. Most damning of all, these women would then feel grateful to him, considering themselves lucky to remain alive.

    ¡°You¡­ you monster. Argh¡­¡±

    Elena began sputtering random sounds. She lacked the vocabulary needed to express the extent of the revulsion she felt toward this man. When she imagined the faces of not just Cordelia, but of who knows how many scared girls giving in to his whims, she was filled with a burning need to crush his entire body like a worm, for him to drown in a boiling pit.

    The most undesirable of fates; that was what her only wish for the man called Thales Lockgood.

    Thales, noticing her dismay, smiled deviously while closing the distance between them. ¡°Worry not¡±¡ªHe raised her chin with his hand¡ª¡±You are not going to die. You are quite the pearl, after all.¡±

    His voice sounded soothing, but it ran Elena over like a fierce, chill wind. So much so, that Elena¡¯s eyes widened like she¡¯d witnessed a murder. In direct consequence, the delight on Thales¡¯ face grew exponentially, pleased with the fear that seeped through Elena.

    He had not said it directly, but neither were blind to what was going on. There was a reason for him locking the door, trapping them in this room with a bed and thick walls.

    He brought me here to¡­

    That thought morphed into static before it could finish, as she didn¡¯t want to comprehend it.

    Normally, fear of death was what disallowed humans from acting, for it was the ultimate consequence for one¡¯s actions. But Elena¡¯s power allowed her to circumvent death. Hence, death was something she had come prepared to face; the source of her bravery was knowing she could beat death. When she stared at that fiery furnace before, knowing she would awake and carry on with her fight was what kept her sane, what allowed her to retain her willpower.

    But what her ability had not prepared her for, was for those things in life that were scarier than death.

    Rape¡­ it was different in her mind.

    Normally, it would be presumptuous to refer to it as a fate worse than death. No matter how hurtful life may be, creatures want to avoid death.

    But to an existence like Elena, one possessing a warped perception of life and death, it was easier to arrive at a conclusion.

    She¡¯d rather die.

    From the point of view of an outsider like myself, it was perhaps a silly assessment. Many of her deaths were not too dissimilar to rape. Back in the Forbidden Land, hundreds of Kabeasts profaned her body, her powerless but to wait for the pain to end. Afterward, she was left with scars that were not visible on her skin. Instead, they resided only on her mind¡ª and were she to try and tell someone else about them, she¡¯d be met with disbelief.

    And yet¡­ sexual assault carried baggage that remained impossible to ignore. Inside Elena¡¯s mind, she saw such an act as the worst of fates, one that would forever taint her body and soul.

    ¡°I have some quick business to attend,¡± said Thales, almost mockingly. ¡°Wait here like a well-behaved girl.¡±

    He locked the door and left. There were no windows to jump through. The walls were too thick for cries for help to be heard.

    Nonetheless, she pounded on the door and cried for help, but even she knew it was fruitless¡ªwell, not entirely. These actions on her part were a distraction, something to divert her mind from what was soon to come. The moment her last bit of hope disappeared, she¡¯d be left with no choice but to confront her upcoming fate.

    Her calls for aid began to sound distorted, as she began to weep. She shut her eyes, then slammed her head repeatedly against the steel.

    ¡°Why am I so stupid? Who do I think I am?¡±

    She could use this time to curse Thales, to blast the wicked man he was. Instead, the target of her ire was only herself.

    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t save anyone¡­¡±

    What made her believe she could change the world? That she pondered as her forehead began to bleed. Elena knew exactly the kind of worthless woman she was¡ªher life on Earth had taught that lesson effectively. She was a shut-in with no job who merely pretended to assist university, living in a world full of tragedy and misery which she had no power to fix.

    So why would it be any different here?

    Perhaps it was her power that had planted that delusion on her, or perhaps her new, beautiful body led her to believe she was an entirely new person. But whatever the case, she was the same Mar¨ªa Elena in both worlds, a woman incapable of making a difference. All she had accomplished was to get herself into the worst fate imaginable, one from which she considered herself unable to recover.

    Her back slid off the wall, her whole body collapsing to the ground.

    I should¡¯ve just accepted Charles¡¯ proposal.

    Like a recording, each decision she¡¯d taken on this journey began to flash in her mind. But none stood out more than the moment she slapped Charles¡¯ marriage proposal away.

    Had she accepted, then she¡¯d be fine. Well, perhaps fine is an undue word. She¡¯d still be subject to the whims of a man she detested. But at least she¡¯d be in the Palace, where death was foreign, and as the wife of the Prince she was sure to lead a better life than that of most Marked.

    To have taken that path would have meant abandoning her values, those instilled on her by her mother and by years of feminist and progressive thought. It would have meant carrying a life of luxury, while others like her struggled under the boot of subjugation.

    But really, would anyone have blamed her? When the alternative was indescribable, excruciating pain, anybody would be excused for choosing the easy alternative.

    Her childish, naive desire to live up to those ideals was what led her to reject such a prime opportunity for an easy life in this world. And what did that get her?

    A seat in this damp, soulless room, awaiting anxiously the moment she¡¯d get raped.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    There was no escape, nobody to help her. All she could do was drown in despair.

    But in an ironic twist, giving in to despair would be her salvation.

    ¡°I will save you¡­¡±

    In that sea that was despair, my voice reverberated. Its orotund sound painted her world black, vanquishing all surrounding color. Her torso was being held in a choke, by hands that were invisible to the eye but perceptible to the touch.

    Light had forsaken Elena. She remained alive, but her soul had run out of fuel. Such was the extent of her despair, that it had extinguished the light of her life.

    ¡°I will fulfill your desire. You know what to do.¡±

    My voice, at long last, managed to reach her. It rang in her ears, so loud it muffled the faint sound of my chains breaking.

    Her eyes opened like cracked eggs, no longer able to close even for blinking. There was no flame to them, yet they appeared filled with uncanny conviction. She rose to her feet, then approached the nearby table. There, her hands gravitated toward the knife lying there, placed there seemingly for her sake.

    She, who yearned to escape life¡¯s horrors, proceeded to act without hesitation.

    ¡ªThe knife carved a cut across her neck, painting the floor with an outburst of red.

    <hr>

    ¡°I have returned,¡± said Thales as he made his way inside the room. He wasted no time before locking the door again, putting the key in his pocket. ¡°Ah, what a proper lady you are. Eagerly waiting on the bed for my return.¡±

    Elena, who sat on the edge of the bed with her hands on her legs, showed no reaction to his arrival, nor to his words. Her gaze was straight, focused on what was before her and nothing else.

    ¡°You appear to still be shocked. But don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll enjoy yourself before you know it. And if not, then it will end soon.¡±

    No matter how barbaric, Thales seemed unable to get a rise out of his prey, who appeared indifferent to his existence.

    ¡°Are you trying to play hard? Because let me tell you, I do not¡ª¡±

    Before finishing giving voice to his threat, he began to caress her chin¡ªwhich proved a big mistake.

    An icy wind swept his shoulders, and it carried a message.

    Stay away from her.

    ¡°What the¡ª¡± He recoiled, his hand momentarily reaching for his blade. He inspected his surroundings, but there was nobody.

    ¡°I must be imagining things.¡± He shook his head.

    Meanwhile, Elena remained wordless, with a dead gaze.

    ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s continue with our thing.¡±

    His bony arms surrounded Elena¡¯s torso, and his lips closed in upon hers. Her lips were frozen like ice cubes, devoid of any and all motion.

    But that was not the only reason why the resulting kiss felt so chilling to Thales.

    Heed my last warning. Stay away from her.

    This time, Thales fully drew his sword, his arm shaking with trepidation. There was no target for his blade to strike. Only the silent Elena, who was too rude to even bless him with a glance.

    ¡°Are you doing this, did you cast a spell, Witch?¡±

    Still, no answer. Elena was a mannequin, stripped of all that could be conceived as a will.

    ¡°Answer me! Don¡¯t play dead, you little¡ª¡±

    In that instant, Thales, with his eyes gunning for violence, placed a hand on her shoulder, intent on swinging with the blade in his other arm.

    For a warrior as prudent as him, it was an unforgivable mistake.

    Fool. In accordance with my host¡¯s desire, you shall be punished accordingly.

    My previous warnings were mere whispers, their sound hard to fully make out.

    This time, my thunderous voice overtook sound itself. The colors that shaped the world fell before my might, an endless void all that remained.

    What is going¡­on?

    Those would be Thales¡¯ final thoughts while belonging to this world. Thoughts that, due to my being chained to Elena, I should be unable to hear. But at that moment, their souls were connected, and the realm of his mind became mine to pick.

    <hr>

    ¡°Any requests, Master Thales?¡±

    ¡°W¡ªwhat? Oh, it¡¯s just you, Cordelia.¡±

    Thales awoke from what felt like a nightmare. A nightmare that took place in the very same place he now stood; a room deep in the Underground Camp, where he took fair maidens with the purpose of taking advantage of them.

    ¡°Ugh, sorry, I had a horrible nightmare.¡± He stretched his limbs as he lied on the bed. ¡°Please, do the same as always.¡±

    ¡°Roger, Master Thales,¡± she answered.

    Vague order, but Cordelia knew what to do. Without a second of delay, she began to unbutton his trousers. Her thin fingers caressed his crotch, as he rested back his head, savoring in the pleasure.

    ¡ªAt least, until he felt the stabbing edge of a knife pierce his groin.

    ¡°GHAAAAAAAAAA¡±

    He yelled in pain, unable to process how the pleasure had rapidly morphed into pain. It was a transition so swift, it fogged his senses. All he could see was the figure of Cordelia, devoid of emotion, raising the knife she held before stabbing again. It was a constant loop.

    ¡°S¡ªstooooop. I beg you!¡±

    The finest of knights, Thales Lockgood, was being punished for his deeds, and was left powerless to do anything beyond plead for mercy.

    A plea that, surprisingly, served a purpose.

    Cordelia put a sudden end to her stabbing. She then stared directly at him, and stepped toward his face. His mouth was constantly opening, an action resulting from his constant screaming in agony.

    ¡°As you order. I will stop,¡± Cordelia said.

    With her free hand, she held the bottom of Thales¡¯s jaw, ensuring it would not slam shut.

    And with her other hand, she drove the blood-soaked knife down his throat.

    The same edge that had pierced his cock was now digging deep through his throat, cutting his tongue. Even screaming was a fate too kind for Thales, who could only stare in horror at the merciless blue eyes of his executioner.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It will all be over soon,¡± she said.

    Her face became darker and darker, as eventually, the black void of death took over her shape.

    <hr>

    ¡°GAAAAAAAAAAH!¡±

    Thales awoke from a nightmare. A nightmare that took place deep within the Underground Camp the King had tasked him with managing. He could feel vomit swell up within his throat. He felt his entire soul shake, his eyes tired.

    A nightmare, that was the mantra his mind repeated. It had to be a nightmare, for such pain was beyond reality.

    ¡°What is the matter, Sir Thales?¡±

    Pulling him out of his trance was a crisp, ethereal voice, belonging to a woman of milky skin with a blue tattoo on her forehead.

    ¡°Samantha? What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Albeit the Royal Family has traveled abroad, we are still within their domain. I implore you call me Number 8.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter, you should be dead. I killed you. With my own hands.¡±

    The woman, her real name Samantha, tilted her head, as would anyone were they told that they were supposed to be dead.

    Such was Thales¡¯ confusion, he managed to overlook an important detail of the situation¡ªSamantha was sitting on his bed, naked before him from head to toes.

    ¡°Why are you naked?¡± he asked, furrowing his brow. He then glanced downward at himself, and noticed he too was naked.

    ¡°You ordered me so, Sir Thales. Now, please, let me pleasure you.¡±

    Thales let out a sigh. Surely, what he¡¯d seen before must have been no more than a bad dream. As he peeked at the woman¡¯s breasts, his shoulders relaxed.

    ¡°Very well then.¡± Thales leaned his body forward, savoring her lips as he ran his hands down her body.

    And in the gap between his kisses, a faint mutter came out of her¡ªmore specifically, a spell.

    ¡°Hielo¡­ perforar.¡±

    Once again, his screech was loud enough to reach the heavens.

    He fell out of bed, recoiling from the agony inflicted on his behind. He landed with his back to the floor. Towering over him was Samantha, who cast her glare downward.

    ¡°Stop¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry,¡± she said, ¡°it will all end soon. Hielo¡­perforar.¡±

    Her conjuring was accompanied by a flail of her hand. Two icicles floated above each of Thales¡¯ two eyes.

    And before he could truly grasp the depth of what their presence meant, they both rained down toward him, ravaging his sight.

    ¡°NOOOOO, PLEASE STOP! SOMEBODY HELP ME.¡±

    He was in the Royal Palace, so somebody should be able to answer his desperate pleas.

    But nobody came.

    More and more icicles continued to pierce the rest of his body. As soon as they tore through his skin, they immediately melted, mending with his outpouring blood.

    The finest of all the Kingdoms¡¯ knights, Thales Lockgood¡ªreduced to nothing more than a puddle of blood.

    <hr>

    ¡°GAAAAAAH.¡±

    Thales awoke from a nightmare.

    ¡°Lord Thales, what is going on?¡±

    ¡°SILENCE, WITCH. STAY AWAY FROM ME!¡±

    The target of his outburst was a young girl with blonde hair and a green mark on her nose. She wore leather and held a whip in her right hand. She gave off the appearance of a dominatrix, especially as she sensually sat on the bed with crossed legs and enchanting pink lips.

    On any other day, Thales would give in to the seductress, to his primal, lustful desires. Today, he wanted nothing to do with her.

    He got up and dashed toward the nearest door, wanting freedom from the trapping walls. With great haste, he rotated the doorknob and opened the door as widely as his arm strength allowed.

    But no salvation existed for him.

    He dropped to his knees, as he stared in despair at the world beyond the door¡ªan empty, endless void of black.

    ¡°What is this¡­¡± he muttered.

    All remaining light that resided within his soul gathered together in his throat, all in service of managing one last, mighty shout.

    ¡°Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?¡±

    That was the last question uttered by an existence that had resigned itself to its fate.

    It was pitiful, honestly. And it was such a polite question that, for whatever reason, I felt an uncontrollable itch to answer.

    Floating in that shadowy world made of null, within the confines of that door frame, my husky, masculine shape revealed itself before his worn-down eyes.

    ¡°You¡­ you are¡­ the Crow King!¡± he uttered, realizing he was standing in my presence.

    ¡°Wow, real impressive for someone who¡¯s never seen me in the flesh. Those sculptors and painters must have done a fine job capturing my fine features,¡± I said, complimenting his historical knowledge. ¡°I¡¯d rather you not call me by that title, though. It¡¯s a bit embarrassing if you ask me.¡±

    ¡°Crow King, why are you doing this to me?¡± he repeated his question from earlier.

    ¡°Are you listening? I asked you not to call me that! Besides, I¡¯m not doing anything,¡± I replied, stretching the truth out a bit. It was indeed my power what allowed these repeating deaths to befall him. However, I was not the one who desired this fate for him. ¡°You can thank Elena. She¡¯s the one who has a vendetta against you.¡±

    ¡°Elena¡­¡± he muttered. ¡°Are you helping her?¡±

    ¡°Ummmm, depends on your definition of ¡®help¡¯. I have my interests separate from hers.¡±

    ¡°Then please, stop this. I¡¯ll serve you however you want. But please¡ª¡±

    ¡°Denied.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    His last remains of hope were vanquished upon hearing my rejection, his tearful expression akin to that of a kicked puppy.

    ¡°I might be an evil God, but I have some principles. The way men like you behave¡­ you disgust me. Pretending to be all nice and kind, before revealing yourself as a monster. If you consider yourself worthy of holding power over women, then act like it from moment one!¡±

    I grinned my whole way through my speech, as he visibly trembled further and further from despair.

    I put my arms behind my head, relaxed and with a cheeky smile. ¡°Now, if you excuse me, I have plans to scheme. And you have a date, so I¡¯ll leave you two alone. Don¡¯t worry, it will¡­ be over soon.¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± he pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. I was no longer within his sight, as I slammed the door shut.

    ¡°Sir Thales, don¡¯t ignore me!¡± said a feminine voice.

    Before abandoning that putrid mind for good, I took one last peek.

    The cracking sound of a whip was heard, hitting Thales¡¯ shoulder¡ªthe tip turning into a snake¡¯s jaw, its fangs digging through his veins with deadly poison.

    This death would be a slow, agonizing one.

    I hope the next one is a bit easier on the bastard.

    <hr>

    ¡°Die, you fiend!¡±

    Elena awoke¡ªmore precisely, she regained control over her body.

    ¡°What the¡­ where am I?¡±

    As she observed her surroundings, her shoes stepped on a puddle¡ªcomposed of blood.

    ¡°How did this¡ª¡±

    ¡°You killed all of them, you Witch!¡±

    The man yelling at her while aiming a gun her way was one of the camp¡¯s guards. The two of them were surrounded by dozens of corpses, all belonging to the man¡¯s colleagues.

    Elena raised her arms. ¡°Uhmm, sorry, you got the wrong girl. I cannot kill a fly.¡±

    ¡°Like I¡¯m going to believe a filthy Marked as yourself. Am I supposed to believe the entrance opened on its own, as well?¡±

    ¡°The what now?¡±

    As she heard that, she took notice of the sunshine that was making its way inside the compound. To her right, was the same machine she¡¯d seen upon arriving in here.

    Somehow, she¡¯d managed to kill every guard in the vicinity, while operating the machine that allowed entrance into the underground bunker.

    How that happened was a mystery¡­ well, a mystery to her.

    Because I know.

    It would perhaps be a spoiler to give too many details, but let¡¯s just say¡­ killing Thales was not her only desire.

    Above all, Elena wished for Miles to come and save her.

    And who am I not to oblige

    A sudden gust of wind blew.

    ¡°What is going¡ª¡± The man dropped his weapon abruptly.

    His hands lacked the strength to hold on to it, for he was dead. A sword cut through his stomach, depriving him of life in an instant.

    The wind had halted, along with the guard¡¯s heartbeat. The wind¡¯s purpose was to deliver death. With that role fulfilled, there was no more need for such a gale.

    All that remained of it was the swordsman responsible for it¡ªMiles of the Dead Sea Pirates.

 CH 24: The Delusion of Believing

    This was a promised reunion.

    Elena was confident she and Miles would meet again. Their constant meetings had to be the work of fate. Of that, she was sure.

    And yet, the scene she was currently partaking in conveyed a whole different emotion than that she¡¯d once imagined. She was standing before his gaze, completely paralyzed. Her body was shaking, and the words she tried to say sounded blurred.

    This was not a sweet, happy reunion, no. The two had met in a sea of bloodied, odorous corpses, in a place that put hell itself to shame.

    Elena leaped into his embrace, her body a mind of its own. Feeling the weight of her head on his chest and the wetness of her tears on his shirt, Miles began caressing her hair.

    ¡°It¡¯s Okay. I¡¯m here.¡±

    His words were tender, yet they rang hollow to Elena. Not because she doubted their sincerity. Rather, it was she who could not feel soothed by their sound. Such was the weight her soul carried, the damage she¡¯d endured.

    ¡°I was so naive. So, so naive,¡± Elena repeated like a mantra as she pounded his chest. She then took a step back, stared Miles directly in the eyes, and proclaimed, ¡°Please, Miles, take me away from here.¡±

    The true nature of the horrors she¡¯d witnessed proved enough to melt her conviction. Right now, more than anything, she wanted to escape this slaughterhouse, to be whisked away to the light of the sun,, where she would be safe from such depravity.

    ¡°I will,¡± Miles said, raising his fist. ¡°Once we defeat the remaining guards, we will make it back to our carriage and¡ª¡±

    ¡°I just want to leave!¡± Elena screamed.

    The two exchanged gazes in silence, a silence cut only by her occasional sob.

    The one to break the silence for good would be Elena, who solemnly said, ¡°I was so foolish to think I could make a difference. All fighting did was get me in danger.¡±

    That was the conclusion she¡¯d arrived at based on her action¡¯s results. All along she¡¯d been deluding herself, trying to live up to her ideals. But all she¡¯d accomplished was not only getting killed repeatedly, but nearly getting raped.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the eyes of those sentenced to this hellhole. They have no fire, no desire. They¡¯d be better off dead.¡±

    Images flashed through her mind. She had tried to ignore them, to not be swept by the desperation they invoked. But she could only ignore them for so long.

    All the faces of those she¡¯d met here¡­ they belonged to soulless husks, bags of meat that lacked real will. The cruel fates befallen them had ripped them of all desire, and they turned into animals, carrying out orders like sheep while waiting for the moment of slaughter.

    She didn¡¯t blame any of them, She could never fault those who had resigned to their misfortune. But she no longer wanted to fight for them. Not because they didn¡¯t deserve a hero.

    Simply, she was no longer delusional enough to consider herself capable of being that hero.

    ¡°Who knows what¡¯ll happen if you fight further. Perhaps we¡¯ll all get killed. So please, let¡¯s just high-tail it out of here while the two of us alive. If you¡¯re there with me, at least I can still have my high-seas adventure. And at least, I can be ha¡ª.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t believe what you¡¯re saying.¡±

    Her words trailed off. Miles spoke curtly, his gaze growing stern. Elena felt her heart drop as she bathed in the radiance of his golden eyes, which for once felt not pleasing, but rather cold, like a bucket of freezing water.

    ¡°The Elena I know would not be content with knowing others suffered, all while carrying out a joyful life.¡±

    At his declaration, Elena let out a tsk with her mouth, then said, ¡°You barely know me. How can you speak so confidently of a rotten woman like me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. Maybe I don¡¯t know you much,¡± Miles admitted, scratching his back. ¡°But I want to believe my impression of you is correct. That you¡¯re the kind of woman whose ideals center those in need.¡±

    Elena was flabbergasted. Those same beliefs she had not long before called childish and naive, were the reason Miles said he believed in her.

    ¡°You are correct. That is me,¡± Elena said, with sorrow in her tone. ¡°But what does any of that matter when I can accomplish nothing? All I can do is hide and cry.¡±

    ¡°In that case¡± ¡ªMiles bent one knee, then reached for her right hand¡ª¡°I shall be your sword. If you ever feel powerless, I shall fight in your stead, helping you out in seeing those ideals come to fruition.¡±

    Her face contorted, as if about to swell up with tears. The man who up to now had been shy of emotions was speaking with such passion, Elena could not help but be moved, especially knowing she was the target of his fire.  But before she could open the waterflows, Elena had one question in need of answer.

    ¡°Why? Why do have such faith in me?¡±

    ¡°Because I love you.¡±

    His declaration reverberated across the entire underground. Her eyes sparkled at the might of those words, words she¡¯d always wished to hear.

    ¡°Ehem.¡± Miles got up, and pretended to cough. ¡°I¡­ might have gotten a bit carried away there. Maybe love was too strong a word¡ª¡°

    ¡°Say it again!¡± Elena ordered.

    ¡°Uhmm¡­ I love you?¡±

    ¡°Again. With pride!¡±

    ¡°I LOVE YOU!¡±

    His scream, loud enough to awaken the nearby dead, was followed by a curt second of silence. Immediately after, Elena began to laugh maniacally.

    ¡°W¡ªWhat¡¯s so funny? I meant everything I said. So much so, I even spent an hour planning my speech in case we met again. That¡¯s how much your absence affected me, you know?¡±

    Elena¡¯s laughter began to reside, sweeping off the faint tears that plagued her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she said, ¡°The only clown here is me.¡±

    How had she been so selfish? The ideals her mother had instilled upon her were the foundations that shaped her very person. To abandon them would mean to become someone else, someone she deemed far more despicable than her actual self.

    There was a cause to that selfishness, and that was fear. Fear that those ideals may prove too unrealistic, too unfeasible for the harshness of reality.

    But what she¡¯d neglected to realize was that, even if that were true, there was still value to be found in those convictions. Others might share them, and find in her a light to follow.

    Such was the case of the man before her, who, captivated by her fire and will, had uttered those words she thought she would never hear.

    I love you.

    His words played on her mind.

    I love you.

    Like wood thrown at a fire, she could feel her soul ignite each time she remembered those words.

    I love you.

    Elena thumped her chest. She was ready to continue her fight for what she believed. To honor the promise she¡¯d made to that dying girl. To build a world without misery. And most importantly, to give Cordelia a life worth living.

    ¡­but before all that, there was time to tease Miles a bit.

    ¡°Well, I was also laughing at how cute you looked.¡±

    ¡°C¡ªcute?¡± Miles¡¯ cheeks turned red like tomatoes.

    ¡°The oh-so-serious rogue, finally opening up about his feelings,¡± Elena teased with a devilish grin, imitating the voice of the narrator of an epic poem. ¡°Truly something worthy of a romance novel.¡±

    ¡°Shut up. I¡ª¡°

    ¡°Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but we need to act fast.¡±

    Meeting the two of them was the rest of Miles¡¯s crew. Leila twirled the gun in her hand, Bronson held his axe with both of his, and Galen¡­ well, he looked healthy. Despite being outfitted for battle, it was relieving to see their faces again.

    ¡°Nice to see you again, Missus¡¯!¡± Bronson exclaimed.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m happy to confirm your safety,¡± added Galen.

    ¡°You guys¡­¡± Elena said, smiling widely.

    Miles¡¯ cheeks regained their brown hue as he switched back from love-struck boy to battle-hardened leader. ¡°I am not sure if any soldiers know we¡¯re here, but seeing how we haven¡¯t been attacked yet, I think we might still have the element of surprise.¡±

    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is, we just strike as fast and hard as we can?¡± Bronson said.

    ¡°Pretty much.¡±

    ¡°Wow. That doesn¡¯t seem like a very laid-out plan,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°It is when we have the intel we have,¡± Leila said. ¡°This is where our little friend comes in.¡±

    In her joy at seeing them all again, Elena¡¯s eyes had glazed over a face that did not belong. ¡°Charles? What are YOU doing here?¡±

    ¡°I came to see my Kingdom¡¯s actions with my own eyes,¡± replied Charles. ¡°I have read books that spoke of Underground Bunkers such as these, but I always assumed them to be mere fabrications. To know my father was carrying out such cruelty beneath the Earth¡­ what an insult to the goddess.¡±

    ¡°Thankfully, those books of his were quite descriptive. We got him to spill out all he knew, giving us a pretty decent idea of how this place is set up,¡± Leila said.

    ¡°Ok, so this is how we will do things¡­¡±

    With everyone¡¯s eyes on him, Miles laid out the battle plan. Bronson would strike at the heart of the facility, where all the prisoners were gathered and the biggest concentration of average guards would be. Charles would go with him, in part because it was Bronson who was tasked with keeping an eye on him, but also because his swordplay would certainly come in handy. Leila and Galen were tasted with freeing the Working Quarters, as well as preventing any further Cremation Gathering from being carried out. As for Miles, he would run to the west wing; there, new recruits in the Weapon Arts were trained, and they would prove most challenging for anyone else to challenge.

    He had given instructions to everyone. Except for one.

    ¡°Finally, Elena¡­¡± He paused, and looked her square in the eyes. ¡°Please, look for my sister. Bring her home.¡±

    Elena brought her hand to her chest at the difficulty stemming from his request. With his fiery eyes, Miles communicated something they could both agree on: That it fell on her, and on no one else, to drag Cordelia away from that dreadful life of hers. But just because she knew it was her duty didn¡¯t mean that Elena was sure she could do it. Before, when she last met Cordelia, the beautiful girl was a stone, unwilling to move even to seek a better life. If words existed that could change her mind, then Elena was not sure if she could find them.

    With that doubt swirling in her mind, Elena nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best. I promise.¡±

    She could not shush the dread that reverberated within her. She was not a superhuman who could do such a thing. From now until the moment their gazes crossed, Elena would breathe with dread, dread at being unable to provide Cordelia an escape from the darkness she called life.

    And yet, Elena made Miles that promise, with conviction. That she would do her dangest for the sake of that girl, who knew nothing but pain and lashes.

    To do otherwise, to surrender to her fear¡­ it would mean to betray not only the love she had for Cordelia¡­ but also the love Miles had for her.

    ¡°Okay, if everyone is ready, let¡¯s move out. Dead Sea Pirates¡­ and Prince Charles, Time to Strike!¡± Miles raised his fist up high.

    To that last order from him, everyone cheered. Except for Elena, who simply giggled with narrowed eyes aimed at Miles.

    <hr>

    Deep underground, a battlefield had sprouted.

    This murderous camp, which resembled hell in its ability to inflict misery, now also resembled hell in appearance. The main area of the bunker, where guards watched over the resting prisoners, had become engulfed in flames.

    The guards, taken aback by the sudden heat, readied their weapons. Most were not Sword Dancers, so there was little they could do to prevent the fire from spreading.

    And there was even less they could do against the earth-shattering blade of an axe, which in the chaos took the chance to cut through their heads one by one.

    ¡°Who is this bastard? Where did this fire come¡ª¡°?¡±

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    ¡°Ask and you¡¯ll get your answer,¡± said Bronson in a boisterous tone, cutting that guard¡¯s torso like it was a tree trunk. With a grin unbothered by the bursting guts and blood, he then raised his axe upward, and with a roar struck at the earth with force.

    What ensued was an earthquake of flame, spreading in all directions from the point the blade collided with the ground.

    Contrary to what Elena believed, Bronson was also a Sword Dancer¡ª well, Axe Bruiser would be the more accurate title. The Axe was a brute, chaotic weapon. In contrast to the Sword Dances employed by Miles and Thales, which let the user become one with the element they were borrowing from the Gods, Axe wielders lacked such refined control. The fire that sprouted then from Bronson¡¯s strike was chaotic, independent.

    ¡°Missus, Princely Boy! Get everyone away from here!¡±

    The plan was to cause enough chaos that the guards could not interfere as Charles got the prisoners to escape from their Living Quarters. Elena, who was meant to go after Cordelia, decided to take a detour and tag along, not trusting Charles at that job.

    Carefully trekking through the fire and flames, Elena and Charles entered the Living Quarters. They were met with a crew of people, all Marked, who were observing the outside commotion.

    ¡°I am here to ask for your collaboration in defeating the Camp¡¯s guards,¡± said Charles, using his typical princely mannerisms.

    His plea, however, only served to sprout confusion among the people.

    ¡°What is going on? Are they going to cremate us all?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the girl who went into the Cremation Chamber a couple hours ago! How is she alive? She must be a spy for the guards.¡±

    ¡°And isn¡¯t that Prince Charles? The bastard is probably here to kill us all.¡±

    All those questions and more composed the endless murmuring that took place. Elena felt overwhelmed by so many stares being directed her way. Charles, meanwhile, terrified his own eyes by inspecting the surroundings. The walls all were in dreadful conditions, with spots lacking in paint and signs of humidity running all over them. The beds looked as soft as stone, and the heat was so aggravating he began to fiddle with his shirt to generate a bit of wind.

    Charles looked at Elena, their gazes meeting. His look was one of distraught, that of a soul who realized the extent of his wrongdoing. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, as he let the barrage of insults coming from the prisoners penetrate his heart.

    I knew I had to come along Elena snarked within her thoughts.

    When faced with those among his people whom he¡¯d failed, Charles was powerless to say a word.

    Thus, when it came to rousing everyone to action, the task befell to her.

    ¡°Listen up, everybody!¡±

    Elena had readied words to say. They might not be the most impactful or most practiced, but desperate for time, they would be the best words she could muster.

    ¡°I am one of you. I know how disheartening it can be to feel like death and suffering are all that remain of life.¡±

    A knot formed on Elena¡¯s throat. The long pause resulted in many stares of doubt to come her way.

    And yet, Elena carried on. ¡°Death¡­ can be scary. When all one knows is life, it can be horrifying to think of the opposite.¡±

    ¡°What is this lecture you are giving us?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, save your philosophy bullshit and tell us what¡¯s going on!¡±

    ¡°But!¡± Elena cried out with the full strength of her voice. ¡°Just because death is scary doesn¡¯t mean one must accept life without question. All of you¡­ the fire in your eyes has been drained by the Kingdom¡¯s cruelty, am I right?¡±

    Buzz was heard from the crowd. Elena couldn¡¯t make much of it out, but whatever they were saying, it had no effect on her conviction.

    ¡°So let¡¯s regain that fire! Right now, the famed Dead Sea Pirates are raiding this compound. Let¡¯s all help them out and obtain our FREEDOM!¡±

    She raised her arm to the sky, to the sound of dead silence. Before her mind could process that silence, a brittle voice spoke up.

    ¡°Freedom!¡± cried out a little girl.

    ¡°Freedom!¡± her mother joined in.

    One after another, more and more voices joined in, echoing the utmost desire deep within their hearts. A single, unified cry for freedom roared with the might to extinguish sound itself.

    ¡°Kill them all!¡±

    Like a demon, a guard had appeared from the flames behind Elena, carrying the cannon-gun typical of this world. A fireball began to form on its canon, directed straight at her back.

    ¡°Tierra. Dividir.¡±

    The same little girl from before shouted, now with profound strength. The Spanish-sounding cry caused a faint quake to hit the Earth.

    The land where the man was standing split in two, a small crevice forming beneath his feet. The man¡¯s weapon escaped his grip, and the fireball was launched toward a nearby wall, causing a small explosion but hurting nobody.

    ¡°Right, Magic. All the magic you know, use it in the name of your freedom. Combined with Miles¡¯ strength, there is no way we can lose!¡±

    ¡°YEAH!¡±

    Like an avalanche, the Marked prisoners, once devoid of soul, roared and rushed into battle. Any fear was eradicated from their faces, as this was a battle against death, a battle to regain the light of their lives.

    ¡°You gave quite the inspiring speech there,¡± said Charles, he and Elena the only two who remained standing there. ¡°I¡¯m impressed. Despite being a Royal, I could never aspire to be so eloquent with words.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you could recite a fine speech yourself. But so long as all you know is the pampered life of a Prince, anything to come out of your mouth will ring hollow.¡±

    At her harsh words, Charles scratched his chin, as if what he was told was beyond mere comprehension.

    ¡°Now, help out in the battle, if you please. I have a girl to save.¡±

    Her detour was over¡ª only Cordelia was her objective.

    Making sure not to trip on any corpse and to not be charred by the fire, Elena sprinted madly toward the east wing of the bunker. There, the blunt of the production of Mana Crystals took place. This was also where Leila and Galen were fighting¡ªwell where Leila was fighting. She wasn¡¯t sure what Galen¡¯s purpose was beyond moral support.

    ¡°Ah, my lady, I see you have joined us here in our little skirmish,¡± said Galen. He and Leila were taking cover behind a wall. Leila took the occasional peek, and fired at guards that were stationed on the other side.

    ¡°Cordelia is over there, where the glass is.¡± Elena pointed at the area overlooking the factory.

    ¡°Let me finish sniping these guys, and I¡¯ll make it safe for you to run for it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Leila.¡±

    ¡°No pro¡ªshit!¡± Leila could not finish her sentence, as she was almost set on fire by a fireball that braced her head. ¡°This is gonna take a while,¡± she said, frustrated. ¡°We¡¯ll try to clear the way for you.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­¡± Elena closed her eyes and leaned her back against the wall. ¡°Cordelia¡­ just wait for me.¡±

    And wait¡­ Elena would also have to wait.

    Leila was in a drawn-out sniper duel of sorts. Combat consisted of her peeking her head and trying to shoot at guards far away, who responded in kind. Galen sometimes tried to be a distraction for the enemies, but in general, it wasn¡¯t a very exciting fight.

    So instead, let¡¯s look for a more¡­ exciting battlefield.

    <hr>

    On the opposite side of the facility, a brute slammed the ground with a spear

    ¡°Eat dis, Sea Dog!¡±

    From where his stab was placed, the ground began to fluctuate. Tall obelisks made of Earth formed, taller than the man responsible for them. Then as if the wind was shoving them, they all slid forward. They came from all directions, and were all about to crash with each other in the same spot.

    In the middle of where the pillars were to meet, there stood a man. A man Elena esteemed. A man whose thoughts, foreign to the mind I¡¯ve been reading to you since Chapter 1, I should not be able to see. But when Elena hit her lowest point and gave in to the deepest of despairs, a new power unlocked within me.

    And so¡­

    Crap, he¡¯s trying to crush me Miles thought.

    Miles looked at his surroundings and understood standing still meant a crushing demise. Quick on the draw, he devised an escape scheme, one born from past experience. Lance Executioners were a group very much alike Sword Dancers. Using the power of the crystal featured on the weapon¡¯s hilt, they could manipulate the corresponding element, using the terrain for war. The Lance Executioner variety of the Weapon Arts was probably the most common, as the spear was a simple weapon for the average folk to pick up.

    It carried one big disadvantage, however. Compared to the abilities bestowed by the sword, a Lance Executioner was limited, lacking in flexibility. In the case of using Earth Crystals, the user could shape the environment by raising parts of the soil, but there was little more creativity to be found. These limitations helped making the technique easier to learn, but there was a reason more prestigious knights favored the endless potential bestowed by the sword.

    Sword Dancers, wielders of the preferred weapon of the God of Warfare, were only limited by their ingenuity and by the element they were channeling. And in the case of Miles, only the latter was a limit.

    ¡°Let me become one with you, Wind that gives us motion!¡± He chanted.

    With his blade as the link between his flesh and the Gods, Miles became one with the wind. He performed a wide leap, the sole of his feet impacting the incoming pillar. A tornado had formed in the gap between the pillars, as Miles ran on the impromptu walls like he was doing parkour. Each lap, he was ascending higher and higher, until eventually ¡ª

    The pillars all crashed into one another, extinguishing the wind that had formed in the middle.

    And standing atop them all, his head bracing the ceiling, was Miles, who wasted no time leaping down to face his opponent.

    ¡°Impossible, not even Master Thales could escape that trick,¡± exclaimed the man, perplexed. He had a bulky build and his skin was soft, devoid of bruises.

    ¡°If he is as good as he claims he is, then he definitely could,¡± Miles refuted. ¡°Never trust the praise of the man training you.¡±

    ¡°Bastard! Are you making fun of my abilities?¡±

    ¡°No, I have no intention to fool around with scum like you. I am here to kill you.¡±

    Baited by his boastful declaration, the man charged blindly with his spear. Despite being a Lance Executioner, it appeared his skill with the actual weapon left a lot to be desired, as his motions were blatantly telegraphed.

    Against an opponent like Miles, such a blunder was akin to suicide.

    ¡°AUGHHHH.¡±

    In the blink of an eye, not only had Miles dodged, but he stood behind him and chopped off his head with a single swing of his blade.

    As the head fell to the ground with the rest of his body following, Miles took a moment to breathe. The poisoned air of the underground was faint relief from the battle, but in that moment it only served to reinforce the melancholy Miles was facing.

    Despite being large of shoulders and with a large nose, the man wasn¡¯t lacking in handsome features. His raven hair gave him a mysterious aura, and the girth of his arms probably could have been useful for household chores.

    Why, then, would a man like that waste his life in such a hellhouse? Was money the reason? If so, there had to be more lucrative paths.

    Miles had a theory. Men like him yearned for control. To be able to order those beneath them. Learning the Weapon Arts, then, was simply a way to amass further power, and with that power came more control. Control he could then use against the powerless Marked sent here against their will.

    ¡°Then again, what do I know,¡± he thought out loud. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I fight myself, let alone why others do.¡±

    With his job done, Miles began to withdraw his blade. But before it could find rest in its scabbard, a wind blew, and his weapon swung yet again. The clank of steel meeting steel reverberated across the entire facility, its sound scattered by the mighty gale.

    ¡°You intercepted my sneak attack. Impressive.¡± The speaker was a slim woman of white hair. Her head barely reached Miles¡¯ shoulders, yet venom seemed to run across her bat-like eyes and scarlet lips.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t much of a sneak attack. The wind was too prepared for one who merely intends to eliminate their prey.¡±

    ¡°A fair assessment. I suppose I should expect no less from the famed Miles of the Dead Sea Pirates. Oh, how I have yearned for this moment.¡± She smiled with a show of teeth, the tip of her tongue visibly dancing in the gaps between them. ¡°Taking your life will be a major hurdle overcomed in the way toward mastery.¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­ do I know you?¡± asked Miles, perturbed by her so blatantly salivating for battle.

    ¡°My name is Thalia. Thalia Esterwell. Now that you know my name, we can carry out this battle as equals.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about equals. I¡¯m not one to froth from my mouth at the prospect of taking a life. You might wanna check a therapist on that, or something.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. Your evaluation of me is incorrect. My aim is to walk the path of the Wind Sword. Killing is simply an obstruction in my way, but not my goal.

    Miles tilted his head. ¡°What use is there in a blade, besides killing?¡±

    ¡°What a brute the finest Sword Dancer in the continent turned out to be. The Sword Dance is an art passed down across generations. Only a fool would be ignorant to its beauty.¡±

    Her platitude only served to perplex Miles further. When he thought of art, his mind flashed back to the many sculptures he¡¯d witnessed across his travels, the glorious architecture of the Eternasian Castle, heck, even Elena¡¯s freestyling at the club had a quality of its own.

    While his technique might be called a ¡°dance¡± and be an ¡°art¡±, Miles struggled to frame it in the same vein as all those. Whenever he ¡°danced¡±, people died. There was no beauty, no grace, it was a dance in name only, a technique developed exclusively for the battlefield.

    ¡°Allow me to demonstrate the ways of one who has chosen the path of the sword,¡± Thalia said.

    ¡°You chose this?¡± Miles asked. As he finished his question, he tightened the grip on his blade. ¡°Why? Who would be so blind as to willingly choose such a cursed path?¡±

    There was exasperation to his choking voice. To him, the sword was not something one chose. It was his way of life, imposed on him by his father, the fiendest among fiends in the Three Seas. When he thought back to all the blood he¡¯d spilled, he could not imagine why someone would willingly take such a route.

    ¡°My reasons are beyond your interest. All you need to know is that I shall be my opponent.¡±

    Miles grimaced. His head ran full with questions, but he¡¯d have to put them away until his sword quenched its thirst.

    She pointed her blade at Miles. ¡°Thalia Esterwell. Apprentice to Thales Lockgood, and follower of the way of the Wind Sword.¡±

    ¡°Miles.¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±

    The might of two hurricanes roared at once. Their collision was so fierce, even the steel that formed the walls trembled at the harsh winds.

    Thalia lived up to her words. Her movements were elegant, immaculate, complementary to her own pristine beauty. She¡¯d sweep by Miles, attempting to strike a blow. Miles would block, and instead of getting locked in the struggle, she¡¯d run past him, her lavish hair trailing behind her.

    This pattern repeated several times, causing her to taunt, ¡°What¡¯s going on? Are you so mesmerized by my fine craft that you¡¯re unable to move?¡±

    Her villainous words did hold some truth. Contrary to his usual fighting style, Miles was going on the defensive, content with blocking the incoming attacks without delivering one of his own.

    There was a reason for that, a bug in Miles¡¯ neck that kept pestering him, preventing him from going on the offensive.

    For a long time, he¡¯d been fortunate. Ever since that day he avoided remembering, all his targets had been men. Statistics played a role no doubt, as most who went the route of banditry were men, but he liked to believe fate had made most of his opponents male for his sake, as drawing his blade on women was the one thing he detested.

    ¡°Now, DIE!¡±

    Thalia ran, unobstructed, to Miles back, and with a fine sweeping motion that was worthy of sculpture, she aimed at the man¡¯s neck, intending to send it flying in a single slice.

    ¡ªInstead, Miles ducked, and before she could react, the tip of his blade pierced her stomach.

    She groaned. She vomited blood. In case it wasn¡¯t enough, Miles dismembered her arms and legs.

    The once beautiful woman of petite build now lay in a pool of blood, her blood mixing with that of the man who was Miles¡¯ previous victim. The image of Thalia¡¯s silk-like skin was tarnished, as all that remained of her was a picture of spilled guts and a face of agony, sufferer of a gory end.

    Miles was about to lay rest to his weapon. Instead, he took a second to inspect it, to breathe in the red coloring its tip.

    Despite his misgivings earlier, when push came to shove, he brandished his weapon against a woman all the same.

    It was mere delusion, then, to believe even against women he could overcome his programming. He was a machine raised for battle, and his blade did not discriminate between man or woman, Marked or non-Marked, friend or foe.

    Recollections sparked through his mind.

    I shall be your sword.

    I love you.

    Those were words he¡¯d offered Elena, words that formed a promise.

    A delusional promise.

    When he stared at the tarnished corpse of the woman he¡¯d just killed, there was another body that seemed to take its place in Miles¡¯ eyes. The frame of a girl he once loved, and who met her end by his hands.

    So, why was he so deluded? What made him believe he and Elena would be any different? As a machine of war, the only end awaiting any woman who was target of his love, was¡ª

    ¡°There he is! Get him!¡±

    Once again, his blade would be deprived of rest. A swarm of guards rushed toward him.

    With a shrug, Miles removed the Wind Crystal from the slot in his sword¡¯s hilt, and replaced it with a Fire Crystal he kept on his pocket.

    Usually, he avoided using fire whenever he could. It was the element his father employed and taught him, and it was too chaotic for his own taste. Wind, the element of freedom, was his preference. However, it required a certain mindset, and after the previous battles, he was simply too distraught to make proper use of Wind.

    ¡°God of Fire, brandish my blade with your flames of ire!¡±

    Of course, it also helped that he disdained every single person here.

    No matter the reason, no matter the excuse, nothing justified the slaughter of fellow human beings like they were cattle. That alone served to stir anger from Miles, which fueled the fire emanating from his blade.

    ¡°Perish under my flame, your punishment for your misdeeds!¡±

    ¡ªMiles swung his blade in an arc, engulfing his enemies and his surroundings in a ceaseless inferno.

 Endgame: Live With Me

    Ever since that cursed day, my power has been limited.

    These shackles that bind me¡­ I, the once-mighty Dark Lord, who triumphed over death itself, am trapped in this void, without so much as a link to the world I strove so hard to subjugate.

    How humiliating. How unfair.

    Thankfully, that eventually began to change.

    Through those eyes, I regained my view of the world. I could see its sights, hear its sounds. She and I were one. I knew her joy, her pain, her anguish. Our connection was one deeper than that of sharing minds¡ªour very souls were intertwined.

    Even then, the hold these cursed shackles have on my body remained present. My vision of the world was restricted to her perspective and hers alone. An improvement over the¡­ nothingness of before, but still annoyingly limited for such a supreme being as myself.

    But then, Elena submitted to despair.

    I am still not fully free. Not even close. But at that moment, one of these shackles was set loose, and a surge of power swelled from within me. I could feel it, breathe it.

    My vision now extended beyond that of Elena, and included those she held deep affection toward.

    First, I used my power to spy on that swordsman, the oh-so-famous Miles of the Dead Sea Pirates. Peeking through his mind, I saw it all. His trauma, his anxieties, as well as his approach to the blade. Learning all this proved quite valuable, were we to one day meet on the field of battle¡ªwhich, if everything goes according to plan, is quite likely.

    Sticking to him for too long would be boring, though, as he basically just gets into fight after fight with the bunker¡¯s guards. And I¡¯d rather not be deprived of seeing Elena for any longer. I still want to test out my power a bit more, so how about we switch perspectives again?

    Yes. Let¡¯s switch. To that of a certain girl¡­

    <hr>

    She swept the floor.

    Over and over and over. Her hands had turned sore and the floor was more than clean of dirt.

    But she¡¯d been ordered by Thales to sweep the floor, and a machine is unable to stop by itself. The only other order she¡¯d received was to wait for him, in that very room, and thus she would do.

    Her aquamarine eyes occasionally took their eyes off the floor to look at the world beyond the glass window on the wall before her. She felt a tinge of guilt at falling for such a distraction, but her hands were able to maintain their effort without the need for her eyes¡¯ focus.

    What presented itself to her was a sight most uncanny.

    Where there should have been workers focused on the production of Mana Crystals, instead chaos was unraveling. Guards were taking cover behind the machines, getting into gunfights with some mysterious enemy. Who these aggressors were, she couldn¡¯t make out from her limited viewpoint. All she knew was that they could aim fireballs with utmost precision. So much so, one struck a guard directly in the head, melting his face into ashes. Eventually, the guards were snuck upon by a crowd of people; Cordelia recognized them, as they¡¯d been working on the assembly line not long ago.

    Despite spending so much time with a knight of Thales¡¯ caliber, Cordelia had never seen a true battlefield. That little skirmish in the palace garden with Elena, as well as the time Thales cut a man before her, were the closest she¡¯d ever come to being in one. Even now, she remained unsure if what she was witnessing could even be called a battlefield. There was fighting, and people were dying horribly. It fit the description Thales always gave her of what a battlefield was.

    But like with all the instances before, her reaction differed from that which most would deem appropriate. She was mildly curious, but largely apathetic. Although she recognized some of the faces being killed, she¡¯d only seen them from afar, and struggled to have any emotional reaction to their deaths. They were not part of her world, but rather beings foreign to it, that existed in a realm beyond her reach.

    In a twisted sense, this was a relief. It meant she wouldn¡¯t get distracted by agony, and could carry out her task of sweeping the floor without delay.

    What also brought her relief was that¡­THAT girl was not taking part of the battle. Because if she was, then Cordelia¡¯s heart would begin to thump.

    She remembered that feeling. It felt alien to her, because to her it felt alien to feel. Elena was the only person who had managed to elicit such strong emotions from her.

    And immediately, the consequences proved disastrous.

    Driven by her newfound emotions, Cordelia acted rashly. She broke the taboo and used magic to protect Elena. Those actions deemed her a target of the King¡¯s ire, and sentenced her to death. It was only by Thales¡¯ kindness that she was alive at all.

    The lesson had been taught. Emotion led only to pain. Her course of life had been the correct one. Giving up control over her destiny and obeying Thales unquestionably was the route to survival.

    She observed the battle further. The Marked, treated like cattle, were striking back against their oppressors. She understood this, but found no will to root for either side. To do so would require a strong opinion about the world, and it was safer to abandon such concepts.

    ¡ªThen, the door to her left opened broad, and Cordelia froze.

    Her eyes remained set on the glass. She couldn¡¯t remove them, as she knew the moment she shifted her gaze to the figure that had just entered the room, her heart would thump once more.

    ¡°I returned to hear your answer,¡± the girl gallantly declared.

    ¡°I have no idea what you are talking about,¡± lied Cordelia. She knew exactly what Elena was referring to.

    Last time they met, Elena raised a question. A simple one, but that nonetheless cut through Cordelia¡¯s heart like a razor blade.

    Why?

    Why had Cordelia risked so much for Elena¡¯s sake?

    The truth was, Cordelia had an answer. But it was a dangerous answer, one that threatened to disturb the entire foundation of her being. So, she stored it in a box, the same box inside her mind where she¡¯d once stored her name.

    Knowing that Elena had not bought her lie, Cordelia confessed, ¡°Because you cause me to feel. To feel crazy, dangerous things.¡±

    She spoke completely matter-of-factly. Elena closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.

    Cordelia then turned to face Elena, her face rigid as stone. ¡°So please, go away. I don¡¯t want to feel that ever again.¡±

    ¡°Lies.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true. Remember when you told me your name after I stood up for you?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°I do recall that, but I don¡¯t comprehend what relevance that has.¡±

    ¡°You told me the name those bastards tried to erase from you. Deep down, a wish for freedom was dwelling inside of you.¡±

    ¡°Impossible. I have no desires but those of my masters. I shall dutifully carry out¡ª¡±

    ¡°You think yourself an emotionless machine, but it¡¯s not true. You can smile, you can laugh, you are a normal girl! A normal girl afraid of being hurt. The only thing abnormal is this shitty situation you¡¯re in!

    Elena arguments turned into yells. So sure was she of her conviction, of there being humanity dwelling inside Cordelia.

    Cordelia, for her part, looked for a rebuttal. Instead of rejecting Elena¡¯s argument, she seemingly changed the subject completely. ¡°But all you¡¯ve done is getting me closer to death. Before, I at least lived in the Royal Palace. Now I¡¯m stuck here.¡± As she spoke, she choked on her words a bit.

    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Elena admitted. ¡°I have caused hardship upon you, have I not? I cannot fault you for being weary of me, thinking all I can offer you is misfortune.¡±

    ¡°If you understand, then why do you insist?¡±

    ¡°Because that mentality¡­ it is one born only of fear!¡±

    Cordelia blinked repeatedly, in rapid succession. Elena was claiming her inaction was motivated by an emotion, namely fear.

    Before, Cordelia had concluded emotions were what led her to act recklessly, and thus any trace of emotion had to be squashed from her mind. But if Elena¡¯s assessment was correct, then her will to submit was just as illogical as her will to rebel.

    ¡°You are afraid of even worse pain. You are afraid of death. It¡¯s only normal.¡±

    ¡°And so what?¡± Cordelia shouted, her voice growing croaky. ¡°This is the life I¡¯ve been granted. I cannot do anything to change it!¡±

    ¡°Those are not your words. Those are words that have been implanted upon you by those ruling over you!¡± Elena claimed. ¡°After all, you are the one who decided to use magic. You are the one who went against the taboo.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Cordelia whispered, eyes downcast.

    ¡°You are the one who wants to be free!¡± Elena yelled. ¡°You think you are powerless, yet you showed you can fight for more!¡±

    ¡°SHUT UP,¡± Cordelia shouted nasally, tears flowing down her cheeks. ¡°I can¡¯t strive for such a life. I am a Marked. Servitude is my penance for being born.¡±

    ¡°Just because you were served lies your whole life doesn¡¯t make them true. You weren¡¯t born to serve. No one is. You were born to live! As yourself. As Miles¡¯ little sister. As Cordelia!¡±

    ¡°Live?¡± Cordelia repeated, as if befuddled by the very idea.

    Elena tilted her head and gave a warm look. ¡°Right. You¡¯ve barely had a taste of life. Of what it can be.¡±

    Elena stared directly at her own arm. She caressed it with her fingertip, as if she was tracing a wound. But there was nothing there, only her silk-like skin.

    ¡°Living can be scary,¡± she said, in an exasperated tone that sounded like a confession. ¡°There are fates in life that can excel death in how scary they are.¡±

    Despite speaking to such highbrow concepts such as life and death, her words awoke something in Cordelia, who reacted with raised eyebrows.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°But there is a lot of good in life, too.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡± Cordelia asked, in earnest.

    Elena let out a hearty laugh. ¡°What a broad question!¡± She brought her fists to her hips. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe laying on grass with a friend, breathing in the sounds and smells of nature.¡± She laughed again, now with an away glance. ¡°Then again, I guess I would not know much about that, the shut-in that I am.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t comprehend. Do you not practice what you¡¯re so eager to preach?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ guess I don¡¯t. Maybe I don¡¯t know much of what it truly means to live myself. But¡±¡ªshe clenched a fist, before extending an open hand¡ª¡±that¡¯s why I want you to live with me.¡±

    ¡°Live¡­with you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I want you to come with me. To sail the seas by my side, by your brother¡¯s side, enjoying the wonders of the world with people who care about you. Slowly but surely, I want us to discover what living is all about¡ª together!¡±

    That was her simple plea. But more than that, it was an invitation. To take her hand and sail into a world that extended beyond her current one.

    Could she really make such a daring choice? Cordelia pressed her hand into her chest, feeling her heart endlessly pump, seemingly pushing her forward with every beat.

    ¡°But¡­ won¡¯t there be pain?¡± Cordelia asked, her voice tearing as it rang.

    What Elena was asking her to do, to reject her entire way of life, was a course Cordelia had considered before. Every time she placed so much as a foot on such a forbidden road, she was met with whips and lashes. Could Elena promise that wouldn¡¯t be the case? That she would be free of the dreadful pain?

    ¡°Maybe. I can¡¯t promise life will be devoid of pain. I¡¯ve said it before, but life has as much danger as it has joys. But what I can promise is this: I will protect you. I shall be there on nights where you want to cry. Help you get back up when you fall down. It may not be worth much¡­ but I swear, I shall give it my all for your sake!¡±

    The world surrounding them began to be set aflame. The fire of the fighting outside was rapidly approaching, sinking the insides of the underground bunker into a hellfire worthy of itself. Temperature rapidly rose, and orange served as background to Elena¡¯s firm figure.

    Before smoke began to seep into her lungs, Elena repeated her plea with all the force they allowed. ¡°So please, Cordelia, live with me! I am weak, I cannot promise you more than what I already have. The one with the power to decide your fate is you and you alone!¡±

    She reached out her hand once again.

    The world Cordelia always knew was crumbling, morphing into a sea of fume. Hers was a choice between dying with that world, or taking that girl¡¯s hand.

    ¡°I¡­I¡­¡±

    ¡°ELENA!¡±

    A booming cry cut into their heart-to-heart, its familiar sound awakening dread within the both of them.

    Like a demon, a figure appeared from the flames. Its skin was charred and its movements were bumbley, almost zombie-like. It carried ash where hair should be, and its eyes were all sclera. Yet its tall physique was unarguable male, and the blade it held in its arms revealed its identity.

    ¡°S¡ªsir Thales!¡± Cordelia cried out, her eyes about to pop out of shock.

    The man he owed her life to, Thales Lockgood, had made his appearance in a state that defied the normal boundaries between life and death. Cordelia froze; even now, he held an undeniable power over her.

    ¡°ELENA!¡± he screeched. His voiced sounded hoarse, like he was in constant agony.

    Ignoring all but his goal, the former swordsman lunged forward, sword arm raised above his head.

    The greatest of all the Kingdom¡¯s knights, Master of the Dance of Wind, was now a shambling, brutish beast relying entirely on instinct, and this was reflected on his swordplay; it lacked the finesse and refinement proper of such practiced hands. Instead, his swing was blatantly telegraphed, and he was propelled forward like a dog that drags its master by the leash. Elena, his target, swiftly leapt out of the way; were he to have been his usual self, such a notion would have been impossible, and Elena would have been torn open in an instant.

    The momentum Thales carried with himself was such that he continued strolling forward after missing, until his body crashed into the nearby wall.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Cordelia asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Last time I saw Thales he¡ª¡±

    Elena cut herself off with a gulp, then had to get dodging again. The Thales-zombie wasn¡¯t done, and with blood spilling out of its mouth, jumped at her again, delivering a series of quick strikes.

    ¡°ELENA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!¡±

    Why did it hold such a single-minded obsession with Elena? The creature bearing Thales¡¯ image seemed to completely ignore Cordelia¡¯s presence.

    There was no time to ponder such questions, as the tip of Thales¡¯s managed to brush Elena¡¯s left arm, inflicting a grave wound in the progress.

    ¡°ARRRGH.¡±

    Elena was no seasoned fighter who could easily fight off pain. She plugged the hole spewing blood with her right hand, but the pain had distracted her long enough for Thales to close in easily on her.

    ¡°RELEASE ME FROM THIS HELL!¡±

    Thales shoved her forward, causing Elena to tumble down, landing on her back. Thales placed his foot atop her torso, and readied his blade for a finishing blow. Bits of his skin corroded, turning into a red liquid that fell on Elena¡¯s skin like raindrops fall to Earth.

    With her movement restricted, if that blow was delivered, Elena¡¯s life was sure to end.

    The girl who had promised Cordelia a new life, about to be slain by the rotting remains of the one who¡¯d given her her current one.

    As the flames surrounding her grew increasingly stronger, drawing the curtain on her world, the correct choice became obvious to Cordelia.

    ¡°Hielo. Generar. Volar.¡±

    Cordelia extended her arm, motioning with her slim fingers. The air around her swirled, and dozens of small icicles formed right before her eyes, floating in the air.

    The ability to generate ice was something her teacher, Nr. 8, had taught her back in the Royal Palace, but she¡¯d never once actually tried. She never could bring herself to do so, for she remembered the icicles that neared her corpse the night of her death. And yet, many times she¡¯d looked at Thales, and for some reason, wished she could erase that memory and drown his body with icicles.

    Was the deed she was about to commit some deep desire within Cordelia that even she never knew about? The weariness of her eyes implied the answer was yes, as did her satisfaction as the icicles flew, impaling the back of Thales in rapid succession.

    The creature recoiled, releasing a crying wail. Holes formed in its torso, guts spilling from them. And yet, it seemed to not perish, as the arm that held its blade remained in motion.

    ¡°Hielo. Generar. Volar.¡±

    In haste, Cordelia repeated her incantation. This time, her arm was aimed higher, and the icicles followed its lead. This time, they struck the hilt of his blade, sending it flying. It landed, with its tip getting stuck on the ground right next to Elena¡¯s face.

    Thinking quickly, Elena used her hand to draw the sword from the ground, tearing off Thales¡¯ leg. Instead of freeing her, this caused the rest of Thales¡¯ body to collapse on top of her. In the ensuing wrestle, Thales began to punch and bite her face.

    ¡°ELENA, YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO ME!¡± Thales cried out repeatedly as he struck her.

    Alive or dead, Thales was consistent. His hands were built for violence.

    And Cordelia had seen enough.

    ¡°Y¡ªY¡ªY¡ªY¡ªY¡ªY¡ªou have¡­ done this¡­to me¡­¡±

    Cordelia grabbed the blade from Elena¡¯s hand¡ªand stabbed Thales with it.

    The same sword that had slipped out of his hands penetrated what remained of Thales¡¯ stomach. If before he tipped the line between the living and the dead, now his body had chosen death, as it ceased all motion.

    Elena, who remained lying on the ground, shoved away the corpse she was buried under, and was met with a most inspiring sight: a soft hand that reached out to her from above.

    ¡°I want to live¡­ with you,¡± Cordelia declared amid tears.

    Fear had long held a grip on her, but when the crucial moment of decision arrived, life was what she had chosen.

    Elena smiled, then without hesitation grabbed the girl¡¯s hand, rising to her feet before hugging her frail body.

    <hr>

    The cruelty that took place under the plains of Tumba de Beatriz had come to a fiery end. Those who had been held prisoner within those hellish steel walls were led to the outside, where the light of the sun received them all with warmth.

    ¡°You are my¡­ brother?¡±

    Among those who now dwelled in the light was a girl of silver hair and brown skin, whose eyes sparkled with wonder.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I guess you don¡¯t remember me¡­¡±

    The young man brought his fingers to his eyes, acting as a dam for the tears he was holding back.

    A rendezvous that he surely sought his whole life, it was a different experience for Cordelia, whose memories of that world of sea were fuzzy.

    Still, Cordelia felt her blood ache, as she knew she and the man before him were connected.

    ¡°Cordelia¡­ that is your name. I have never forgotten. I remember how crisp my mother¡¯s voice sounded when she said your name¡­ or, I guess I should say, our mother.¡±

    This new world being born before her was still so confusing. Never before had she pondered who her mother could be, or if she had a lost sibling. Such questions simply did not belong in her world, and now she was receiving all the answers to all those unasked questions.

    It was overwhelming, it was perplexing, in a way, but it was also inviting. The sunshine was so strong, it marked this was a new beginning.

    ¡°Welcome home, my precious sister.¡±

    Weeping, Miles embraced her petite body. This was the first time they¡¯d conversed, yet he was treating her with such kindness, with a word like precious. Cordelia meant more to him than he could ever mean to her, that much was evident. Thus, she was unable to pay him back with an equal level of warmth; she simply stood stone-faced, sinking into the touch of his sinewy arms while hers remained next to her torso, like those of a statue.

    But perhaps that was fine. After all, Elena had said that they would slowly learn what living was. It was forgivable if in some occasions, Cordelia did not respond appropriately.

    ¡°Hey now, I was the heroine here. When is it my turn for the hugs?¡±

    At that teasing remark, both siblings reacted by pulling away from one another, and aiming their gazes at its originator. With a cheeky smile, Elena waved at the two of them.

    ¡°Is that an order? I believe I can hug you if you want,¡± Cordelia said.

    ¡°That¡¯s clearly not an order!¡± Miles complained. ¡°And even if it was, it was aimed at me.¡±

    ¡°Unlikely. I am the most frequent target for Elena¡¯s hugging.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Miles exclaimed.

    ¡°Relax my lovelies. It¡¯s a joke. There is enough of me for the both of you anyway.¡±

    ¡°I¡ªI understand,¡± Miles said, slurring his words.

    ¡°I will take this information into account,¡± said Cordelia.

    Elena strolled up to them, then placed one of her hands on their respective shoulders. ¡°I am just happy brother and sister are reunited at last. Not all families are so easy to rebuild.¡±

    Fate had brought the three of them under the same sky, and that was a blessing that was not to be taken for granted. After much fighting and suffering, there was something soothing about the simple pleasure of sharing the light of the sun with the two people she most esteemed. Elena¡¯s deep dark eyes were hard to read, but with the clear glance she gave Cordelia, it was clear as crystal how much this moment meant to her.

    ¡°So, Cordy, are you ready for your new life?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who this ¡®Cordy¡¯ person is, but if you want my answer, then I can confirm it is positive.¡±

    Elena sighed and facepalmed, likely at Cordelia¡¯s response, which sounded like an algorithm putting words together. Then, the corner of her mouth contorted into a grin, followed by her striking a dramatic pose.

    ¡°Oh, oh, heat wave, oh, I think I¡¯m about to pass out!¡±

    ¡°Elena!¡± Miles shouted, as Elena fell onto the grass.

    ¡°Elena, it can¡¯t be! I took care of all of your wounds!¡± Cordelia said. There was legitimate concern to her voice, far less robotic than she had sounded literal seconds before.

    ¡°Then please, take another good look at me,¡± Elena cried out, extending her arm toward the sky. ¡°Check my pulse.¡±

    ¡°Yes, let me observe¡ªGAH.¡±

    Cordelia¡¯s body was pulled toward the earth, rolling across the green plain. Laying there next to Elena, she could feel the touch of the grass on her back, as well as smell its odor. The endless beauty of the sky, the song of chirping birds, even the disgusting look of a nearby snail. Those were sensations that were always there, inhabiting her world, but that she had only just now become able to truly perceive them.

    She closed her eyes. Nothing, no one, had told her to, but something compelled her to do so anyway. Some of those sensations remained. Others disappeared into the void. But they were sure to reappear once she opened her eyes back up.

    What she was experiencing¡­ was life. Her senses were working together to let her savor life itself.

    ¡°I¡­think I like this,¡± Cordelia said in bliss.

    She opened her eyes, and was met with the black voids that were Elena¡¯s. They might make her seem scary at first glance, but there was an undeniable warmth to them that dared eclipse that of the sun.

    The two smiled at each other, both their gazes locked, their souls bounded as one.

    ¡°Funny. But don¡¯t mess around like that. We both were seriously concerned for you.¡±

    Miles¡¯ attitude was that of a party pooper, staring down at them with crossed arms. But Elena did not buy it for a second, and pursed her lips, before saying to Cordelia, ¡°Don¡¯t pay him any mind. He¡¯s just jealous he¡¯s too stuck-up to roll on the grass for a bit.¡±

    ¡°What? That¡¯s not true. I¡¯m not stuck up at all!¡±

    All Miles¡¯ denial accomplished was for Elena to wink at Cordelia, riling him up even further.

    ¡°Then get down here,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°Fine! I will.¡±

    With body language befitting of a cartoon, Miles sat on the grounds, his arms remaining crossed on every moment. He then stretched out his legs, and finally lay on the pasture like the two girls.

    ¡°See, that wasn¡¯t that hard,¡± Elena teased.

    ¡°I¡­ suppose not,¡± he said.

    The three of them lay there, hand in hand, motionless but with purpose, taking in the sights and sounds that life offered.

    The sun cast its curtain of light on their bodies, and with it, came the falling curtain on this story, which had concluded its first act.

 Act 1 Epilogue

    ¡°We are setting sail toward the lands of Eternasia! I have exchanged words with the Queen, and she has promised shelter for all of you.¡±

    The captain¡¯s announcement reverberated across the entire deck of the ship, which had become less spacious as a result of their latest escapade. Of the hundreds of Marked kept prisoner beneath the soil of Tumba de Beatriz, dozens chose to venture alongside the Dead Sea pirates, albeit briefly.

    Queen Imogen, ruler of Eternasia, offered asylum to those persecuted by neighboring nations. Before Elena had even arrived upon this world, Miles had been in direct contact with the Queen. Through the use of a device similar in shape to a telegraph, except way bigger and powered by a Wind Crystal, Miles could send the sound of his voice across the entire world; the device fired green energy in the shape of a bird.

    ¡°You know, I was wondering how Miles had managed to speak to me back in the Palace,¡± Elena said, thinking out loud.

    ¡°You really are ignorant to the ways of the world,¡± chimed in Charles from behind her back. ¡°The use of Sound Channels is the most used way of sharing sound and music. I have no idea how one person can be so uncultured.¡±

    ¡°And I have no idea how you are still alive,¡± clapped back Elena with a glare.

    Once the events of Tumba de Beatriz came to an end, most of the prisoners were naturally happy about being granted freedom. But there was brewing unease among some of them about the presence of the Crown Prince¡ªalbeit, former Crown Prince might be more accurate at this point.

    ¡°I was on the team that wanted your head to roll, for the record.¡±

    Charles gulped, burning under the blaze of her vengeful hostility. Despite his cooperation, Elena¡¯s opinion of the man remained below low.

    ¡°Well, you changed your mind quickly when Number¡ª I mean, Cordelia, said she didn¡¯t want me to die. Although you still kept your usual grumpy face.¡±

    Elena rolled her eyes. ¡°You are lucky she¡¯s such a pure soul. Else you¡¯d be dead meat, pal.¡±

    Being the one victimized by his family the longest, Elena had suggested allowing Cordelia to be the one to decide if Charles¡¯ head would remain glued to his neck. To no one but Elena¡¯s surprise, Cordelia rejected that option without giving it an ounce of thought, her heart too innocent to seek retribution in such a way.

    ¡°Calm down, sweetie. Boy here might be a lost cause, but murdering Royals is outside our agenda anyway. He¡¯s remaining alive whether you like it or not.¡±

    The one to walk into their conversation was Leila, who attempted to ease tension with her usual carefree yet scolding attitude. She was carrying a box, meaning she couldn¡¯t strike her standard hand-in-hips pose, yet she still exuded a confident, mature aura.

    ¡°Thank you, lady. I am glad you take my side,¡± said Charles.

    Leila glowered at him. ¡°Tsk, don¡¯t think too much of it. I just know how much more valuable you are when not a corpse.¡± She turned her head toward Elena. ¡°As for you, start thinking of any skill you can contribute with. No matter how much Miles insists upon me, I will not allow any member of the Dead Sea Pirates to be a simple slacker.¡±

    ¡°Harsh! But fair,¡± Elena replied. She felt fear travel down her spine, as a slacker was exactly what she was. But if she planned to stick around, she wouldn¡¯t have like to be forever a guest.

    Speaking of which, that last thought made Elena realize something. ¡°Wait, does that mean I¡¯m officially a member of the Dead Sea Pirates?¡±

    ¡°I suppose. It¡¯s not like there¡¯s an initiation or anything. The only requisite is hanging out with us. And you claim to have no place to go, so I guess you¡¯re sticking around?¡±

    ¡°Yep. No place nor purpose. That is me.¡±

    ¡°Welcome to the club, then.¡± With a wink, Leila brought the conversation to its conclusion, turning around to leave towards the lower deck, her hips swerving from one side to the other rapidly.

    ¡°God, she¡¯s so hot,¡± slipped out of Elena¡¯s lips as she stared at Leila¡¯s back, smitten by the older woman¡¯s allure.

    ¡°She could be your mother, you know?¡± mocked a husky voice.

    ¡°That¡¯s not true! I¡¯m too old for her to¡ª¡± She halted her speech, realizing that her body in this world might be younger than her mind.

    Embarrassed, Elena turned to face the origin of the voice. A burly man of tall height, whose thighs could shatter a watermelon in two¡ªit was Bronson, who observed her with crossed arms and a grin.

    ¡°H¡ªhey big guy,¡± Elena said, sweat dripping down her neck, trying desperately to switch topics. ¡°How are you guys holding up with the passengers?¡±

    ¡°Galen is who you should ask. He¡¯s the one tasked with managing our rations. All I do is help serve the food, and occasionally help an old lady walk without falling over.¡±

    The queen had provided them with enough money to provide food for all those whom Miles liberated in the process of saving Elena. The ship had enough beds for most of them to sleep, but a few people had no choice but to sleep on the floor of the deck.

    With a smirk, Elena said, ¡°So he manages you guys¡¯ budget? Quite a competent one, the little twink.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that repulsive-sounding word means, but that is indeed my job.¡±

    ¡°GAH! Can you guys just stop sneaking up on me?¡± Elena complained to Galen, who had joined the conversation abruptly, same as Bronson and Leila had.

    ¡°I am not a fighter, but my background in finance allows me to work brilliantly as the crew¡¯s treasurer. For you see, when I belonged to one of the kingdom¡¯s noble houses, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Save your exposition for later. I got things to do,¡± Elena said, her eyes distracted by something that was certainly not the rangy man rambling on.

    ¡°Excuse me? What a rude, little¡ª¡±

    ¡°Relax, Galen. You¡¯ll have plenty of time to annoy her later,¡± Bronson teased.

    ¡°Oh you¡ª¡±

    Their bickering faded into the background, as Elena dashed further and further away from them.

    Her eyes had decided on a target, and she could not delay. Like a sailor follows the song of a siren, she was bewitched by beauty.

    Wearing a tea green dress, intricately patterned with sunflowers, Cordelia stood underneath the shining light of the sun, eclipsing it with her beauty. There was something so picturesque, so pristine about her small frame juxtaposed with the endless sea. Elena was simply lost for words; adorning her head was a straw hat, which made Elena want to joke about One Piece, but she knew such a reference would land with a thud.

    So, all she did was stand, awkwardly, with her mouth wide open.

    ¡°I have been told this dress once belonged to my mother. Do you like it?¡±

    They both fell into silence, as the wind blew their hairs.

    Her question was both cold in sound, yet heart-melting in its sincerity. In the gap of time between Cordelia raising her question and Elena answering it, Cordelia¡¯s eyes slowly opened more and more, eagerly awaiting Elena¡¯s opinion.

    Elena tapped her foot, then snorted. She felt guilty. Who was she, to leave a girl like this waiting for so long?

    For one reason or another, Elena¡¯s judgement was valuable to Cordelia. She was unable to find words that were worthy of explaining the extent of her feelings, the burning of her soul. But that was no excuse¡ª she could not deprive her of what she wanted to hear.

    With a tilt of her head and a smile that excelled even the sun in warmth, Elena simply said, ¡°You look lovely.¡±

    They were simple words, few words. Again, in no way were they enough to cover all she meant to Elena. But they were honest words.

    The appearance Cordelia gave off was lovely not only for how pretty she looked. No, what enthralled Elena was seeing this girl, who so far had only carried worn-down rags for clothing, be clad in such pristine silk. Before, even her beauty could not escape the shackles imposed on her by this cruel world. Now, she was allowed to truly shine.

    ¡°You truly think so?¡± Cordelia raised her fist, covering her mouth with it.

    If she was trying to hide her feelings with it, it proved ineffective; Elena could spy the corner of her mouth slowly morph into a smile.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Aww, you¡¯re so cute, like a little doll!¡± Overwhelmed by surging emotions, Elena lunged at her, engulfing her body with the warmth of a hug, her cheeks rubbing against Cordelia¡¯s.

    ¡°L¡ªLady Elena, what are you doing?¡± Cordelia blinked in rapid succession and her eyebrows sharply rose. Even if it was simple surprise, it was a joy to see a hint of emotion sneak into her face

    ¡°My bad, I just couldn¡¯t contain myself,¡± Elena said, stroking her hair while staring tenderly. Said tenderness soon morphed into frustration, as she added, ¡°Hey, I told you not to be so formal.¡±

    ¡°I offer my apologies.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re doing it again!¡±

    ¡°In that case, I apologize again.¡±

    ¡°Well, can¡¯t expect everything to be solved in the first arc, I guess.¡± Elena shrugged her shoulders.

    Their little exchange would be cut abrupt, as Leila returned to the outside of the ship, then strolled toward them.

    ¡°So. New girl. Let me show you the ropes.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Madame,¡± Cordelia replied.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather you not call me that,¡± said Leila, frowning.

    ¡°See! She doesn¡¯t like the formality either!¡± Elena said.

    ¡°The formality is not the problem¡ª augh, never mind. Come on, let¡¯s get going.¡±

    With her patience at its limit, Leila dragged Cordelia by the arm, leaving Elena by her lonesome.

    Thankfully, nearby was someone also in need of company.

    Staring off into the distance, Miles was hanging out by the edge of the boat, done with delivering his little speech. Young women curiously stared at the back of the man of masculine beauty, but his aloof body language proved enough to dissuade any potential approaches.

    ¡°What you looking at? Because all I see is too much water. 7.8 out of 10.¡±

    ¡°GAH!¡± Ripped out of his trance, Miles bumbled wildly out of shock, flailing his arms as he strove to maintain his balance, else he¡¯d fall back-first into the ocean. ¡°Don¡¯t sneak up on me like that!¡±

    Elena giggled. ¡°Tehee! Sorry, I couldn¡¯t resist seeing you get all flustered like that. A nice change of pace after talking to Miss Emotionless just now.¡±

    Both siblings were prone to hiding their emotions, but Miles¡¯ were significantly easier to fish out.

    ¡°You joke, but at least she smiles a bit when she¡¯s with you,¡± Miles said, then glanced at the floor. ¡°I always dreamed of the day I would meet with my little sister again. But I could never imagine this¡­ she acts so aloof. Only with you does she show even a hint of emotion.¡±

    Elena crossed her arms and pursed her lips, saying nothing in response.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Doesn¡¯t that remind you of¡­ someone?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me? Let me tell you, I show plenty of emotions to other people besides you.¡±

    ¡°Oh really? Exemplify,¡± Elena challenged.

    ¡°Well, I told Bronson the other day I was, uhmmm¡­ really hungry.¡±

    ¡°Oh wow¡± Elena expressed a sarcastic surprise. ¡°He¡¯s meant to be your best friend, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Do you often share any manly secrets, or something like that?¡±

    ¡°Umm, I guess not. He mostly talks to Galen nowadays.¡±

    Male friendships, amirite? Elena snarked within the confines of her own mind.

    ¡°In any case,¡± Elena said, putting her elbow on his shoulder, ¡°give Cordelia time. She¡¯s been through a lot, and lots of things are changing around her in a very short amount of time. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll start to see you as her brother soon.¡±

    ¡°I suppose so. It¡¯s just¡­¡±

    His words seemed to be stuck on the edge of his lips. A strong wind roared, threatening to whisker those words into the sea beyond.

    ¡°Come on now. Don¡¯t start hiding stuff from me as well. Spit out what you want to say, or else you¡¯ll choke on it. That¡¯s what my mom used to always say!¡±

    He left out a chuckle. ¡°I guess her face is so much like my mother¡¯s. It¡¯s simply uncanny to see her being so cold toward me.¡±

    Elena¡¯s eyes lit up. It made sense, yet felt like such a silly thing to get hung-up on. Cordelia was not his mother, and the many circumstances surrounding her life justified her withdrawn behavior.

    But at the same time, Elena could sympathize with Miles¡¯ plight. She imagined the face of her own mother, showing nothing but complete indifference to her mere existence. Such a nightmarish image was enough to not just make her skin crawl, but to shake the very foundation of her own soul.

    What did her mother think of her? Her contemplation had brought that once-sleeping question to the forefront of her mind.

    Was her mother happy she was gone? Did she feel her world improve with Elena¡¯s absence?

    Like a student who didn¡¯t study enough, she had to answer ¡°Yes¡± to all those questions, and blindly hope on being correct. It would do her no good to ponder how correct she was. So long as there was no way to redo the decisions that brought her here, picking at the past accomplished nothing.

    And in this world, there were still things she could do. Things she had to do.

    ¡°Miles?¡±

    Her gaze grew in intensity.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I need to ask something of you.¡±

    It was abrupt, a non-sequitur, almost. And it was selfish perhaps, to so suddenly forgo any pretense of worrying about him.

    But Elena needed to make her request. Worry corroded her soul every second that went by, worry at her answers being wrong.

    If her mother was in pain due to her actions, then there was no going back. In grief she would spend the rest of her waking days, all due to the foolish behavior of her selfish daughter.

    Thus, if Elena had inflicted such a pain upon her mother, then at the very least she needed to accomplish something in return. She had to live by the ideals that woman had instilled upon her, else both of her lives would be wasted.

    Only if she could make an impact, only if she could change this world¡­ only then, could her soul even dream of redemption.

    ¡°I want you to help me. Fight for me. Be by my side as I push for a better world.¡±

    Miles raised his eyebrows. Elena displayed conviction as she spoke, not stopping to make her usual brand of jokes and playful teasing.

    ¡°What I saw in that camp was enough to make my stomach curl.¡± Elena closed her eyes, meaning to blink. But as those inhuman memories flooded back to her head, she struggled to open them back up, fearing that those images would become her reality again. ¡°I want a world that¡¯s fair for all. Where such atrocities are not tolerated.¡±

    Elena opened her eyes. She found some peace at Miles¡¯ compassionate gaze, but her soul heart remained flared up.

    ¡°But I am weak,¡± she confessed. ¡°I alone do not have the power to save anyone. Not even Cordelia.¡± She widened her eyes, then pleaded, ¡°So please. I need you to work with me. To build a world better for her. For people like her.¡± Elena scratched her back. ¡°For people¡­ like me.¡±

    Elena had power, but being able to survive death was not enough. In the path to changing the world, death was not the only horror she needed to face. Many challenges would come her way, and she knew many of them would prove unsurmountable by her alone.

    She needed someone to fight alongside her. Someone who possessed the strength she lacked. And that someone¡­

    ¡°Not gonna lie, I expected something weird coming from you.¡±

    ¡­met her conviction with a silly joke.

    ¡°W¡ªwhat? What does that even mean?¡± Elena said. It was now her turn to be the flustered one, crossing her arms as she hid her red cheeks.

    ¡°Sorry. I just wanted to answer Elena-style.¡±

    ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t funny. I was like, really putting my heart out there, you know?¡± She pouted.

    Wait, is this how I always come across? Elena pondered, smacked right in the face by the role-reversal.

    Miles brought his hand to his chest. ¡°In that case, let me also put my own heart out there.¡±

    The gravitas had returned to his speech. Elena observed in intense silence as he drew out his blade from its scabbard. He then stabbed the wood beneath his feet, bending one knee as the blade traveled downward.

    As he gripped the hilt, Miles raised his gaze to meet Elena¡¯s.

    ¡°I shall be your sword,¡± he proudly declared. ¡°I might have reunited with my sister, but if she is to be truly safe, then the world must change.¡±

    A wide smile was drawn on Elena¡¯s face. Miles was not a Marked, but he understood how unkind the world was toward their kind. Having survived such chaotic events, even such simple words brought reassurance beyond description.

    ¡°Thank you, Miles. Thank you, for letting me borrow your power.¡±

    ¡°No, thank you, Elena,¡± he said. ¡°I have spent so long single-mindedly following the Queen¡¯s orders, all for the sake of finding my sister, I have not given thought to what I should strive for beyond that. So thank you, for thinking for me, a mere sword who lives off others¡¯ orders. I trust your judgement in the path to a better tomorrow.¡±

    Elena was unsure if she truly understood what he meant. But she was sure the meaning of his words would make itself clear one day. What mattered today was that promise he¡¯d just made, to be her sword. He would be there, aiding her in her fight against injustice.

    There would be many struggles to come.

    But so long as she had at least a bit of power, she was sure not even death could stop her. Not when her end was to change this world.

    ¡°Oh, umm, speaking of which¡ª¡± Miles scratched the back of his head¡ª ¡±we do still need to meet with Queen Imogen. Just saying, in case you¡¯re thinking of doing something crazy like raiding another camp.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning such a thing!¡± Elena complained. ¡°But also, wow, way to kill the mood. Didn¡¯t you say something about no longer blindly following her orders?¡±

    ¡°I never said that! Just that now I¡¯ll blindly follow yours as well!¡±

    Miles had succinctly summarized their conversation, but had embarrassed himself in the process.

    ¡°Whatever. Listen, you probably want to talk with the Queen anyway. She is infamous for being sympathetic to the cause of the Marked.¡±

    ¡°Really? Well, that¡¯s a relief, knowing you aren¡¯t working for a bigot.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s also our benefactor, meaning without her, we¡¯d be drowning in debt. So even if she was one, we¡¯d probably have no choice!¡±

    He let the sound of his last word linger, implying it was supposed to be a punchline to a joke. The awkward silence and the grimace Elena made showed how effective of one it was.

    ¡°That joke completely flopped, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yeeeeep. Touchy subject matter. Plus, it barely qualifies as a joke in terms of technique.¡±

    ¡°My bad.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. But how about from now on you leave the joking to me, and I leave the fighting to you?¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡±

    <hr>

    Like that, the Dead Sea Pirates set sail toward their next objective: meeting with Queen Imogen, who according to Miles, held beliefs similar to Elena¡¯s.

    Would this rendezvous be a mere distraction from her goal, or a key event in her life?

    Only the wind knew.

    But what Elena did know, is that it was a stepping stone toward the peak she wished to reach.

    One where everybody could laugh and smile.

    Struggle was inevitable. To climb such a mountain meant challenging even death itself.

    But in the name of bringing change upon this unfair world, she would bear it all.

 Act 2 CH 1: Unique Existence

    Act 2: Power Found in Despair

    ¡°Waaap! Bchow! Pfttpup!¡±

    Swords clashed, yet the sound of clanking steel was conspicuously absent. What was there in its place was a mere imitation, a mockery of the noise naturally born from a battle.

    ¡°Are the sound effects really necessary?¡± complained a man of boyish good looks, who observed with crossed arms the sparring session taking place before him.

    ¡°Absolutely! Well, I guess not necessary in the strict sense of the word. But it helps me put my all into each swing!¡±

    The woman who was making those sounds with her mouth, Elena, was currently practicing the art of the sword. Brandishing a wooden sword on her right hand, she set her aim on her target, and readied her arm for her upcoming attack.

    On the receiving end of her gaze stood the handsome rogue by the name of Miles, captain of the ship they were on and expert swordsman. He held his own weapon vertically, ready to parry whatever blow she could muster.

    ¡°Elena, remember what I told you,¡± he said. ¡°Your grip on your sword is far too weak.¡±

    ¡°Kaaaaapow!¡±

    Ignoring her instructor¡¯s advice, Elena lunged forward, putting all her might into one, overhead swing. It was an ambitious maneuver, one beyond her level of swordsmanship.

    Predictably, it ended poorly.

    Before her sword could even collide with that of Miles, she lost her hold on the hilt, sending it flying while spinning like a boomerang. Miles¡¯ arm swung instinctively to parry the now-projectile, resulting in the weapon being sent rocketing upward across the air.

    Defying all physics, the wooden sword spun in the blue sky for what felt like an eternity, before at last beginning its descent. Everyone observed in awe, as the sword perfectly followed a straight path down its destination: the head of Charles, former Prince of the Kingdom of Luzterna, which it cartoonishly bounced off like a rubber ball.

    ¡°Ugh, the pain!¡± Charles exclaimed, before passing out.

    ¡°Well, that was an impressive display of skill¡­ is what I would be saying, if any of that had been intentional.¡±

    Snarking at Elena with a hand on her hip was another one of the members of the crew. She was a blonde woman, whose unparalleled beauty was not tarnished by the occasional wrinkle on her face; if anything, such failings only heightened her mature, motherly aura.

    Elena turned to face her, and let out a sigh almost immediately. ¡°I didn¡¯t think swinging a stick around would be so difficult.¡±

    ¡°Miles would not be such a renowned figure if anyone could pick up a blade and swing it all willy-nilly. Wouldn¡¯t you rather learn to wield a gun instead? You aim, pull the trigger, and people die! Its simplicity is why it¡¯s my preferred weapon.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for the suggestion, Leila. But I think I¡¯d rather die.¡±

    She responded with an upbeat, almost joking tone. But hidden within her words, was the anguish of one which had seen what was forbidden for mortals to see.

    In this world, what were referred to as guns were more like portable barrels of a cannon, which generated fireballs through the use of Fire Crystals inserted into a special slot. While the end result was a dead person, same as the guns she was used to, the method they achieved this through was horrific. The poor victim shot with this gun-cannon hybrid would have their skin and skeleton devoured by flame.

    Observation was all that was required to deem such a fate nightmarish, but observation was not all Elena was basing herself on. No, memory was also key to her conclusion.

    Elena was a unique existence ¡ªone that knew of death.

    The day of her arrival upon the unknown kingdom of Luzterna, any pretense of escapist fantasy was crushed in an instant by that unforgettable sensation. Scorching heat tore apart her stomach from the inside, transforming her into a mess of sprawling blood and guts.

    Elena of course, endured¡ªthrough the power I had imbued her with, death was nothing but a minor setback.

    Still, with such a recollection implanted on her brain, she could never inflict such agony upon another, even with the knowledge such a death would be final.

    Besides, traveling the path of the sword brought along some benefits.

    ¡°Anyway, you got any more of dem practice blades? I think I can afford sweating a bit more.¡±

    She wore a cocky grin as she said all this. In truth, she hated exercise, as was expected of any nerdy woman who did not take care of her shape. What she truly enjoyed was sparring with Miles, their sweaty bodies engaged in an exchange of blows that shared more with tango than it did with fencing.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve had enough training for today,¡± Miles said.

    ¡°What? But you¡¯ve barely moved at all!¡± She clasped her hands together. ¡°Oh, how I yearned to see your body dripping with sweat, after an exciting workout session¡­¡±

    ¡°W¡ªwhy would you want to see that?¡± Miles said confused, stammering all over his words. ¡°That would require me to go all out. I¡¯d never do that against a novice.¡±

    ¡°My body is sweaty from work, Lady Elena. You can admire it instead if you want.¡±

    Butting into their conversation with her aquamarine eyes was a silver-haired girl of petite build. Her name was Cordelia, and not only did she share parentage with Miles, but she was also target of Elena¡¯s affections.

    And also her lust.

    ¡°Cordelia, for the last time, no ¡®Lady¡¯. Also, please drink some water. I don¡¯t want you to pass out from exhaustion. Besides, sweat doesn¡¯t look good on you. You¡¯re just tarnishing your cute looks!¡±

    Despite having eyes for both, the way Elena perceived Cordelia¡¯s body differed from how she perceived Miles¡¯. Her image of Cordelia was that of a frail doll, one whose beauty had to be maintained by her hand.

    In fact, it was only through her own insistence that Cordelia ended up doing chores for the sake of the crew. Both Miles and Elena were insistent on simply having her as a guest, but the girl was adamant on helping out. Thus, she began to fulfill tasks like cleaning and laundry¡­ which were originally assigned to Elena.

    ¡°Speaking of which, let me handle the laundry next time. The washing machine is pretty much identical to the one I had back home,¡± Elena said, feeling a tinge of guilt at having imposed so much work on Cordelia, work that was rightfully hers.

    ¡°But last time you attempted that, you shrunk all of Sir Galen¡¯s shirts,¡± said Cordelia.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m incompetent?¡±

    ¡°Negative. But I am also not claiming the opposite.¡±

    ¡°Ouch.¡±

    Shot through the heart by the girl I love. How painful.

    ¡°Land Ahoy!¡±

    At the booming call, Elena raised her gaze. Sliding down the ladder from the ship¡¯s watchtower was Galen, who landed on his feet with a grace befitting a man of such feminine beauty.

    ¡°We shall reach shore in about 30 minutes,¡± Galen reported to Miles.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Miles said. ¡°I¡¯ll prepare a formal announcement. The Queen has sent an envoy to greet us on the beaches of Barpueblo. We¡¯ll then be escorted toward the town, where Elena and I will meet her in person. Everyone else can wait here.¡±

    Their latest adventure had resulted in the Dead Sea Pirates rescuing dozens of prisoners, kept in cruel camps and made to work until their bones crumbled. Many of them joined the Pirates on their journey to Eternasia. Here, Queen Imogen, ruler of the biggest nation in the continent, had promised them shelter.

    ¡°Wait, just the two of us?¡± Elena said, puzzled.

    ¡°Queen Imogen has taken an interest in you. It was on her command that I was ordered to rescue you from those ruffians,¡± Miles said, in reference to the first time he and Elena met.

    His answer only confounded Elena further. The two of them had never met before, so what inspired such an interest within the queen?

    That was the question that haunted Elena, yet she could not give voice to such an inquiry. After all, there was a possibility so likely as to approach truth.

    Elena was a unique existence¡ªone whose body was not her own.

    Following her death, Elena¡¯s soul abandoned the body and world of her birth, and was transported into a world of fantasy that existed beyond her knowledge.

    Such a scenario was not so strange in the realm of books and manga, like the many she¡¯d read on her spare time. But living it through fiction did little to prepare her for how alien to human experience her current self was. The body she was now inhabiting, comprised of an exquisitely smooth skin and a lean shape, differed from that she¡¯d been born with, from that she¡¯d cultivated throughout her life.

    The moment her soul was reborn, she hijacked the body of some poor young woman, whose fate now remained uncertain. She possessed no memories of the original lived experiences of her body¡¯s previous owner; no matter how much she focused her brain, all she possessed were her own recollections of her life on Earth.

    It was within those memories where the answer to her question likely lied. The girl the Queen wanted to see was not Elena, but her predecessor, whose identity was a mystery.

    Arriving at that conclusion, Elena gulped. If the Queen and the previous-her knew each other, then she¡¯d need to pretend to be someone else during their meeting.

    ¡°So, umm, how nice is this queen? Is she, you know, like¡­ prone to anger?¡± Elena asked, twiddling her fingers in anxiety.

    ¡°Well, as a former noble of Eternasia, I believe I am most qualified to answer that¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a bitch, at least from what Miles always leaks.¡±

    The guttural voice butting into the conversation belonged to a muscular man of brown skin. His shirt was a tad too short, leaving his bellybutton exposed, and his thighs were built like mountains.

    ¡°Bronson! Don¡¯t interrupt me like that! I believe we have spoken on this matter in the past. I do not like to hear such vulgar language.¡±

    With the speed of a gazelle, Elena bolted to where Bronson was standing, and with her hand to the side of her mouth whispered to him, ¡°And this is the part where you go ¡®that¡¯s not what you said last night¡¯¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what you said last night!¡± Bronson repeated, before giving Elena a thumbs up accompanied by a proud grin.

    Nailed it big guy!

    At the ensuing scene meant to tease him, Galen¡¯s face swapped through different emotion in rapid succession. First, he blushed. Then, he shook his head rapidly and flared up in anger, leading him to yell, ¡°I also told you not to speak of such matters!¡± Embarrassment returned to him, as he crossed his arms and diverted his gaze. Finally, the stomped the floor madly, then glared at Elena. ¡°And I don¡¯t know what your deal is, but he does not need to be provided material!¡±

    She giggled. ¡°What can I say, I know what words get a rise out of an Uke.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re using that strange word again. I do not know its meaning, but I feel I should be disgusted.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather not explain, thank you very much.¡±

    Elena was a unique¡ªactually, no, in this regard she was not unique at all. Plenty of women like herself existed, who loved to gawk at attractive gay men. Whether her pleasure was of a sexual or just emotional kind, she couldn¡¯t tell for sure. But teasing Galen in such a manner certainly made her heart burn hot with something.

    ¡°She¡¯s stern, but fair,¡± Miles said. ¡°You have nothing to fear.¡±

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right¡­¡±

    <hr>

    At last, the sailing crew reached the shore of Barpueblo. Miles explained to their guests that they would handle business with the Queen, setting in stone the details of how the prisoners would receive her help.

    Afterward, he approached Elena and said, ¡°It¡¯s time to go.¡±

    ¡°About time. I¡¯ll follow as soon as the ramp is deployed.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Before she could finish raising her eyebrows, Miles picked up Elena¡¯s body, carrying her bridal-style.

    ¡°Wait, what are you¡ªdooooooooiiiiiiing!¡±

    To the sound of Elena¡¯s screaming, Miles¡¯ feet leapt off the wood that comprised his ship. Holding on to his shoulders with the tightest grip she could manage, Elena felt the impact of the wind on her face.

    Gravity finished playing its role, and Miles landed on his two feet. The earth itself quaked, awed by the grace of his athleticism and strength of leg.

    Well, at least that¡¯s what it appeared to Elena, whose head was scrambled from the sudden drop in velocity.

    ¡°Are you insane? What happened to the perfectly good ramp we used to get up to the ship?¡±

    ¡°This is faster, more efficient,¡± Miles replied bluntly, missing the point. ¡°We don¡¯t want to keep the queen waiting.¡±

    Elena sighed, then muttered under her breath, ¡°I¡¯m starting to see how you and Cordelia are siblings.¡±

    She was a touch dizzy, but she stood on her own feet nonetheless, maintaining balance. Now, the reality of her surroundings made itself clear.

    ¡°Wow, this place is real empty for a beach.¡±

    The sand beneath their feet was of a white so pure and clear it seemed robbed from paradise. And yet, it was as lively as a desert, Miles and Elena the only form of life in their surroundings. In the distance, two watchtowers could be spotted, with large cannons aimed at the ground, the only reminder of humanity¡¯s footsteps in this painting made real.

    ¡°Barpueblo is a holy place, and it¡¯s pretty secluded from the rest of the Old Kingdom,¡± Miles explained. ¡°Only those on a pilgrimage make the rough trip all the way here. We sort of cheated by sailing across the Dead Sea.¡±

    The ship of the Dead Sea pirates had a unique feature¡ªit could surround itself with a special barrier, rendering those who dwell within it immune to the bad aura of the Dead Sea. Normally, those who dare sail those cursed waters at the call of the night risk turning into Kabeasts, but the protection the barrier offered circumvented that curse. So, while they still needed to be wary of Ghost Ship attacks, having the Dead Sea all to themselves greatly aided the Pirates in getting around the continent.

    ¡°Still though, look at this place! You¡¯d think at least some tourists would come here.¡±

    ¡°Not really the time of the year for that,¡± Miles said. ¡°The harsh winds and low temperatures are enough to put off beach-fanatics.¡±

    Immediately after Miles finished speaking, Elena began to shiver.

    ¡°Dang it, why did you have to point it out! Now I realize I¡¯m freezing,¡± she complained. Her dress was quite elegant, but it left her arms exposed to the breeze.

    ¡°Worry not, I have brought warm clothes.¡±

    The one to say that was a figure who was slowly approaching them, standing out against the naturalistic environment. It wore a blue military uniform, decorated with medals and featuring a tie. Hair was white and long, and carried an androgynous face; slim chin and nose, and eyelashes of significant length. Whoever this person was, they stood on the line dividing masculinity from femininity.

    ¡°Thanks!¡± Elena said, as she blindly extended her arm to grab one of the sweaters this person was offering. On second thought, she realized how odd this all was, and asked, ¡°Wait, who are you?¡±

    The stranger¡¯s brought a hand to his heart, bowed, and said, ¡°I am here on behalf of my Lady, Queen Imogen. She considered you might be lacking in warmth after spending so much time in Luztena, so she suggested I deliver some clothes befitting the temperature.¡±

    ¡°Elena, this is Fidele, Imogen¡¯s strongest knight,¡± Miles said. ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you again.¡±

    Oh, like the Cuban guy? Elena thought. I guess they¡¯re a man, then.

    At his statement, the knight raised their eyes. ¡°Please, sir Miles, do not utter that name. It is only my queen who can permit such a name being uttered. Until then, please call me Margaret.¡±

    Wait, but that¡¯s a girl¡¯s name¡­

    Elena was confused, in part because of what they¡¯d said about the queen¡ªonly she could allow for their name to be said? It was bizarre.

    ¡°Ehem, but let¡¯s not wait any more time on me. Please, accompany me. I shall lead you toward Queen Imogen.¡±

 Act 2 Ch 2: The Queen

    Led down a yellow trail, Elena and Miles followed Fidele down to the town of Barpueblo¡ªalthough to use such a term might constitute an insult to all towns across the world. In size, it resembled a town in an RPG more so than any real one Elena had ever seen. There might¡¯ve been about fifteen roofs total visible to her eyes, all uniform in their dull, gray hue.

    ¡°Man, you weren¡¯t kidding when you said this place was desolate,¡± Elena said to Miles. ¡°I¡¯ve seen abandoned houses more lively than this.¡±

    ¡°Very few people live here,¡± Miles said. ¡°This makes it the ideal spot to meet with the queen.¡±

    There was a need for secrecy in their meetings. As a wanted criminal in Luzterna, if truth got out that the queen of Eternasia was in cahoots with him, diplomatic relations would turn awry.

    ¡°But won¡¯t it be obvious for the people living here that the literal queen of the country is here? Rumors spread like fleas in small towns like these¡±

    ¡°The regular trek over here is treacherous. Means of communication are limited. It is hard for information to seep in and out from here,¡± chimed in Fidele.

    As they stepped into the town proper, two kids, a boy and a girl, rushed up to them and hugged Miles¡¯ legs.

    ¡°Miles! You are here,¡± said the boy. He had disheveled black hair and wore a glorified rug in the shape of a robe.

    ¡°We are finally eating fish tonight!¡± the girl added. As if a complete mirror image of the boy, she wore an elegant blue dress and her hairstyle consisted of elaborate golden twintails.

    ¡°Nice to see you two,¡± Miles said, as they ecstatically danced around him. ¡°Bronson will soon come to deliver supplies. Now go back to playing, we have adult business to handle.¡±

    ¡°Awesome!¡± they both yelled in unison, as they ran away with their arms raised toward the sky.

    ¡°Popular with kids, huh?¡± Elena teased.

    ¡°Not particularly. They are just happy they get to eat abundantly for about a week,¡± Miles said.

    Elena asked, ¡°You guys have to feed this place?¡±

    Fidele answered in Miles¡¯ place. ¡°Since they are able to cross the Dead Sea with ease, my Queen has tasked the Dead Sea Pirates with providing resources to Barpueblo about once a month.¡±

    That quelled Elena¡¯s remaining question about the town, namely how they managed to survive being so stranded from the rest of the nation.

    Elena chuckled. ¡°So the mighty Miles of the Dead Sea Pirates is in truth an errand boy, huh?¡± She poked at Miles¡¯ arm, hoping to get a reaction out of him, but the most she got was a roll of eyes.

    ¡°In fact, delivery was supposed to be three days ago,¡± Fidele added. ¡°But the Dead Sea Pirates¡¯ latest skirmish delayed the scheduled arrival. It would prove unsurprising if there has been ire among the population, as a result of the lack of supplies.¡±

    ¡°Wait, so you¡¯re saying I am the reason these people were going hungry?¡± asked Elena with a soppy face.

    ¡°Yes. You are the one to blame.¡±

    ¡°S¡ªso blunt!¡± Elena exclaimed.

    ¡°My Queen has ordered to wait until after the rendezvous before delivering the supplies. So I think it¡¯s in everyone¡¯s best interest to not waste any more time. Let us carry on, please.¡±

    Fidele¡¯s voice sounded carefully modulated, as if trying to sound more formal than what was natural. Yet now, it sounded as if a spoonful of honey had seeped into it, Fidele¡¯s order delivered with a warm, almost hypnotic sound.

    Following her instructions, Elena and Miles carried on for a few meters before arriving at a building. It was a small structure, but it stood out for actually having some decor on the entrance, the wooden door full of carvings in the shape of fish.

    Stepping inside, a dark room met them, illuminated only by the fire from a chimney. By it sat a hooded figure, who stood up and removed their cloak as soon as they heard of the arrival of guests.

    ¡°It is great to meet you at last, My Child.¡±

    <hr>

    The light emanated by the fire suddenly felt dim. As Elena stared into those golden irises, she felt her soul ignite. The overwhelming aura the woman before her dispersed spoke to her, whispering to her that this was an existence before which she had to submit.

    ¡°I¡ªI am honored to meet you, Your Majesty!¡± Elena awkwardly shouted, her body growing tense, with sweat dripping down her neck.

    Miles facepalmed, while the Queen only laughed in response.

    ¡°No need to worry, My Child,¡± Imogen said, weaving her hands in a careful motion. ¡°You are safe in my presence. I can only imagine how harsh your travels must have been.¡±

    As the queen spoke, Elena could feel her shoulders regain ease. Her motherly voice and mature appearance put her in a trance, bringing back flashes of her actual mother. The woman before her was the personification of femininity, with long, blonde hair that reached down to her wide hips.

    ¡°My Queen,¡± said Miles, bending down on one knee, ¡°as you ordered, I have found the girl carrying the Black Mark.¡±

    ¡°You have served me dutifully, Miles. Know you shall be appropriately rewarded.¡±

    In complete contrast to right before, Imogen now spoke sternly, in a matter befitting the authority of an absolute monarch. Elena felt a sense of uncanniness in more ways than one; hearing Miles refer to her as ¡°the girl carrying the Black Mark¡± as opposed to her name made her feel dehumanized, as if she was a mere good that they were about to trade.

    ¡°My Queen, I have one request,¡± Miles said, raising his golden eyes. ¡°Please, provide shelter to Elena. Keep her safe.¡±

    ¡°Huh? But I am part of the Dead Sea Pirates now.¡±

    ¡°Our way of life is simply too dangerous. So I beg of you, bring her under your wing, away from harm.¡±

    Elena couldn¡¯t help but feel dancing butterflies in her stomach. It was pure emotion what fueled the sound of Miles¡¯ request. Even in the darkness of the room, it was clear to see how sincere Miles was in his concern, the depth of his care for her.

    At the same time, though¡­

    How dare he?

    Despite the flutter of her heart, a part of Elena also felt insulted by his behavior. She was willing to join the Dead Sea Pirates of her own volition, ready to live up to her convictions and change this world. And yet now Miles was suggesting she stay behind?

    Does he think I¡¯m useless, or something? I mean¡­ I wouldn¡¯t really blame him for it, but still! Don¡¯t say it!

    Elena¡¯s thoughts were reflected on her face, her way of looking at Miles becoming a questioning one. Imogen¡¯s eyes scanned Elena¡¯s face, before focusing on Miles.

    ¡°I understand the cause of your concern, but we both know that is impossible,¡± Imogen coldly answered. A frown drew itself across Miles¡¯ mouth as she said that. ¡°And I am afraid you have no room to complain. After all, even now, you remain in my debt.¡±

    ¡°Y¡ªyes, my Queen.¡± Miles spoke with an uncanny reverence, as if afraid. Elena felt thrown off, as that was an emotion Miles had never displayed.

    ¡°As for you, my dear Elena, I require your power.¡±

    ¡°Power?¡±

    If Imogen¡¯s words were meant to quell her confusion, then they only had the opposite effect.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    What kind of power could the queen of a nation seek within a frail woman like her? Unless of course¡­

    Does she know I can revive after death?

    Elena could not ponder the implications of Imogen¡¯s words for long, as the queen would soon dispel the confusion.

    ¡°Beyond the Dead Sea, there is an island where a community of Black Marked live. Within its confines hides a Sanctuary said to belong to the ancient God of Death.¡±

    A lot of new terms were thrown Elena¡¯s way, but before she could ask what any of them meant, Fidele, who had been standing in silence until now, said, ¡°According to the Goddess¡¯ 17th Scripture, she lay her blade to rest within the confines of the Death God¡¯s Sanctuary. Only the arrival of a Black Marked born from the Kingdom of Light shall open the way to the sacred blade.¡±

    Though Fidele¡¯s words were delivered completely matter-of-fact, they made the queen burst into laughter. ¡°Oh, Fidele, you always take any and all opportunity to show your studying of the Goddess¡¯ word.¡± She began to pat Fidele¡¯s head.

    She used that name. I guess that¡¯s what I should call him.

    ¡°Ehem¡­ What matters is that you must seek this blade, and deliver it upon my Queen¡¯s hands.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, umm¡­ Fidele,¡± Elena said as she raised her hand, hesitating as she uttered that name. ¡°So you¡¯re sending us to fetch a sword for you? Are you all lacking in weapons or something.¡±

    ¡°Fool!¡±

    Elena¡¯s heart jumped with worry at Fidele¡¯s reaction.

    ¡°Sorry! Did I use the wrong¡ª¡±

    ¡°The Goddess¡¯ Blade is no mere sword. It is the centerpiece in order to open¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough, Fidele¡± interrupted the queen, her voice balancing on the line between collected and angry. She then stared Elena straight and said, ¡°I apologize on behalf of my knight. He gets quite jumpy when someone is uneducated in the ways of the Goddess.¡±

    Elena breathed a sigh of relief. She was fine with getting yelled at for being ignorant¡ªthat was normal to her by this point. But she feared that Fidele¡¯s ire was for a different reason¡ªthat she¡¯d deadnamed him, something she¡¯d rather avoid doing, even if done without malice.

    But because Fidele¡¯s freakout was unrelated to the way she referred to him, it meant that was his preferred name. Imogen¡¯s referring to Fidele as he also confirmed he was indeed a man.

    What was the deal with asking to be called Margaret before, though?

    She couldn¡¯t make sense of it all, but she¡¯d have to shelve that thought for the time being. Everyone¡¯s experience with gender was different, after all.

    ¡°My Child, I cannot spill out every detail surrounding that artifact, but there is something I can say.¡±

    The queen paused her speech for a moment, closed her eyes, and played with her long fingers, mustering strength to utter that which would follow.

    ¡°Obtaining that item is key to changing this world.¡±

    Time froze around Elena.

    She knew the meaning of those words. She knew the sentiment behind those words. Words that could well have been her own, yet now resounded inside her ears.

    Her feet began to feel sore. A tiredness that had been building up for a long, long time.

    Because since the day of her birth, the world on which her feet stood had been a horribly, horribly flawed one.

    How dearly she wished to vanquish the Earth. To wander a word devoid of any blemishes, without crime and injustice. If such a world existed, she would gladly trade all she was to live in it, for none of Earth¡¯s virtues could make up for its myriad of issues.

    The day she awoke in that alley, she thought that day had come. The world of her fantasies had become her reality.

    That was not the case.

    In fact, her new world was in some ways worse. Discrimination was rampant. Injustice was the common coin. If she lacked the power to bring change to her old world, then she had even less of a chance of improving this one.

    So¡ª

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±

    The sound of the Queen¡¯s words bathed her soul in relief. Within those golden eyes, she founded a kindred soul, who too saw the ills plaguing the world.

    Imogen smiled. She then pointed at a door behind her and said, ¡°Come here. Let us speak in private.¡±

    ¡°My Queen, I object!¡± Fidele shouted. ¡°Are you sure you want to be left alone with a stranger? One from Luzterna, no less. Let me stand by.¡±

    ¡°Conceal your objection, Fidele,¡± Imogen said, with the full strength of her throat. ¡°I would never cast doubt on one who shares my fate as both a Marked and a woman.¡±

    At the queen¡¯s casual reveal of being a Marked, Fidele¡¯s eyes went into panic. However, caught bewitched by the reproaching gaze of his queen, Fidele simply straightened his posture, then said, ¡°Very well. Sir Miles and I shall stand by as you converse.¡±

    Queen Imogen led Elena to a back room. It was dusty and lacking in decor, but the bed with fancy sheets revealed it acted as the Queen¡¯s sleeping quarters during her trip.

    Imogen sat on the bed and crossed her long legs, making herself comfortable. Were she not to know ahead of time, Elena would not know she was the queen of a country.

    Looking up at Elena, who remained standing, Imogen said, ¡°You are a Black Marked. But on top of that, you are also a woman. By the law of the Divine Decree, you are the most wretched of beings. That much is a law of this world.¡±

    Elena was flashbanged by her words. She knew that was the case, but it being stated so plainly truly put her reality into perspective.

    The fact that Imogen claimed to share in that suffering only reinforced the seemingly inescapably truth. Her words were spoken with authority on the matter, for her experience with the ills of the world exceeded Elena¡¯s by far.

    ¡°But have you ever pondered if such laws are truly immutable?¡±

    Elena¡¯s eyes lit up at her question.

    Perceptive of the girl¡¯s reaction, Imogen answered herself. ¡°Common sense dictates the answer is no. The Goddess decreed who shall submit, and that is simply how it is.¡±

    In actuality, the world was not flawed. It was functioning exactly as designed. After the war against the Despair Lord, the Goddess ordered for those who wore the cursed mark to be subjected to disenfranchisement and discrimination.

    ¡°But Magic¡­ it is the only force powerful enough to change that.¡±

    Confounded, Elena asked, ¡°You want to use magic to get rid of injustice? Can you really just¡­ do that? That simply?¡±

    The concept was strange to Elena. Using a fantasy power to remove societal ills seemed unfeasible. Generally in stories, magic might influence the way civilizations ran, but the only way to solve problems born of people was by working through them as people.

    ¡°Why not?¡± Imogen playfully asked. ¡°Magic is the power of altering reality. It has no reason to abide by humanity¡¯s silly codes and rules.¡±

    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is¡­ you know a spell that can fix the world?¡±

    In a soothing tone, Imogen replied, ¡°More or less. But in order to cast it, I need the blade that once belonged to the Goddess.¡±

    Elena¡¯s chest thumped in disbelief, albeit in a positive way. As someone from Earth, she always pictured societal change as a slow process, one that took years or even centuries. To be told a simple spell could put an end to such seemingly natural concepts was a shock to her system, a comforting lie that should be treated as such.

    But in a world ruled by magic, such thinking was short-sighted. She didn¡¯t know what the limits were to magic¡ªif any limits even existed in the first place.

    Catching wind of Elena¡¯s skepticism, Imogen said, ¡°You must understand, like you, I once believed in the power of people. As a kid, I always looked forward to becoming queen. I hoped my rule would lead to a time of peace and equality¡± ¡ª Imogen raised her head, while legs playfully kicked the air above them ¡ª ¡±Oh, to be so childish again.¡±

    She spoke of days gone by with a mixture of nostalgia and bitterness. There was a tiredness to her eyes, one that could only fester in a woman who had gone through many lifetimes in one.

    Even as queen of Eternasia, the extent of her power was limited. Decisions made by the Crown of Glory, as the reigning monarch was known, could not override those made by each province¡¯s local Duke.

    ¡°As ruler, I tried to implement laws against slavery. Beneath the Dukes¡¯ sights, I offered shelter to those escaping death. I tried to forbid marital rape. In some parts of the country, I even succeeded. I have done all I can, and yet¡ª¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t enough,¡± Elena said, completing her sentence.

    They both stared into each other¡¯s eyes. Elena¡¯s were dark, Imogen¡¯s gold. And yet, within each other, they found understanding.

    As they slept. As they showered. Even now, as they calmly conversed. At every waking second, there were others like them. Suffering. Subjected to misery.

    Carrying that knowledge was all it took for their days to be imperfect. It was a ball-and-chain they both dragged, that at every second threatened to corrupt the light of their lives.

    ¡°I was born both a Marked and a woman,¡± said Imogen. ¡°No amount of royal blood can change that fact. So please, Elena¡­ let me cast my hopes in Magic. It is the only course toward salvation I still see.¡±

    Elena would always carry some doubts regarding such plea, a desperate one born from the depths of despair

    However, faced with a wailing soul that shared in her pain¡­ she could not blame her for believing in the impossible.

    ¡°Queen Imogen,¡± Elena spoke deeply, ¡°I believe in your conviction. I don¡¯t consider myself good for much, but if you insist there is something I can do¡­¡±

    Elena stepped forward with care, not diverting her sight even slightly from Imogen¡¯s eyes. She put a hand to her shoulder and clenched her fist with the other.

    ¡°If there is something I can do in the name of changing this world, I won¡¯t give up until I succeed. Even at the cost of my life.¡±

    A determination she had long held, meeting one who could comprehend her struggle only further strengthened it further.

    Alone, their dream of a world devoid of strife would never come true. But if their powers were to align toward the same goal¡­ then such a seemingly impossible reality might come to fruition.

    That she would give her all in the chase of that end¡ªthat was the feeling she wanted to engrave upon Imogen¡¯s golden eyes.

    ¡°Tehhee.¡± The queen giggled.

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Elena asked, flustered. She was not expecting such a reaction to her soulful show of conviction, let alone from a woman as mature-looking as Queen Imogen.

    ¡°Nothing. It would take too long to explain.¡± As Imogen said that, the smile plastered on her face had a certain brittleness to it, as if her mouth could not pick between a smile or a frown. Soon, the frown won the tug-of-war, as with a bitter face she said, ¡°But please, don¡¯t speak so lightly of throwing your life away. Death is a fate beyond the understanding of normal humans.¡±

    Oh trust me, I know more about death than you can image Elena wanted to say, but preferred to keep it in her thoughts.

 Act 2 Ch 3: Images

    The meeting with the queen had come and gone. Miles and Elena returned to the ship. Soon after, all the former-prisoners were led to town, where the queen had prepared ten carriages to escort them to the Eternasian capital, where she could provide shelter for all of them. Galen and Bronson, meanwhile, head down to town to provide supplies such as wheat and fresh fish.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s the mission?¡±

    With a hand on her hip and an inquisitive tilt of her head, Leila planted that question upon Miles and Elena, who were now standing aboard the ship of the Dead Sea Pirates¡ªknown across the lands as the Hellwaves Traveler.

    ¡°We are sailing to Dead God¡¯s Isle,¡± Miles reported. ¡°Our objective is an ancient relic found in the depth of the Island¡¯s Palace.¡±

    Leila flipped her long, blonde hair, and with narrowed eyes interrogated further. ¡°That freaky place again?¡± The concern was audible in her voice.

    ¡°I¡ªis it dangerous?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°Not particularly. Kabeasts do dwell the nearby seas, but the islanders use magic to keep them under control,¡± Miles said.

    ¡°The beasts aren¡¯t my worry. It¡¯s the people,¡± Leila commented. ¡°Their leader in particular. He always made me feel uneasy.¡±

    ¡°We have no choice. We must follow the queen¡¯s orders¡ªunless you know of a way to pay off a debt bigger than a mountain.¡±

    ¡°If I knew, I wouldn¡¯t be a pirate, kiddo.¡±

    ¡°So wait, you guys owe money to the queen?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d say it¡¯s more than just money. You see, Miles¡¯ father was quite the¡ª¡±

    ¡°Asshole,¡± said Miles bluntly, completing Leila¡¯s sentence for her. Elena, for her part, let out a hearty laugh, caught off-guard by the sudden swear that had seeped out of Miles¡¯ mouth.

    ¡°Yeah, pretty much. He was a complete dumpster of a person, and a gambling addict to boot. But he was the mightiest warrior this side of the Black Swordsman, so the Queen employed his blade often. He was so deep in debt, however, that even now Miles is forced to follow her orders.¡±

    EIena felt this Black Swordsman was a person of renown, but she¡¯d rather hear that tale later. Right now, she fixated on Miles, who remained with downcast eyes.

    Catching her look of concern, Miles snorted, then stomped the wooden floor, straightening his posture. ¡°If it makes you feel any better, the queen has said that this will be one of our last tasks. Soon, our debt will be fully pardoned.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you feel bothered by having to abide by her orders?¡± Elena asked.

    Leila threw her hands up. ¡°Nah. Ever since she pushed for the abolition of slavery and for women¡¯s rights, my respect for Queen Imogen has only grown. Visiting creepy places is not to my liking, but there are worse agendas out there one can push in exchange for coin.¡±

    Pirates working for the crown¡ªthat was the reality of the Dead Sea Pirates. A close crew that lived by honor instead of treachery, who prided themselves on doing good before making gold.

    And whose ship featured surprisingly modern commodities, like a clean toilet and warm showers.

    I¡¯m so happy I¡¯m heading out to adventure with THESE guys!

    Elena¡¯s eyes began to shine with the light of stars, as words burst out of her mouth like bullets out of a machine gun. ¡°I agree. Queen Imogen had such a mature, wise aura to her. My shoulders felt at ease in her presence. I feel I can truly trust in her mission, whatever it may be. Also her hair was so long and pretty and her hips¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wow, slow down there. I said I respect her, not that I idolize her.¡± Leila¡¯s words came as a form of reproaching Elena, who was starting to sound like a fangirl over someone she¡¯d just met.

    ¡°Sorry, got carried away. What about you, Miles? Does it bother you to be in her debt?¡°

    Despite her casual tone, Miles gave Elena¡¯s question serious consideration. He stroked his chin repeatedly while thinking.

    ¡°I suppose not. A sword is not meant to complain about their master¡¯s will, after all.¡±

    His response had been one born from careful contemplation, yet it only served to disconcert Elena. ¡°A sword? You¡¯re not a sword, silly!¡±

    ¡°Captain Miles, we have returned.¡±

    Interrupting their conversation, Galen had arrived at the ship¡¯s deck. He appeared taller than usual, looking down from below at the usually-taller Miles. There was a reason for this: he was sitting on the shoulder of Bronson, who carried him effortlessly with his brawny arms.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be ready to sail when you give the order, Miles,¡± said Bronson.

    ¡°Very well. That would be now. Without carrying the former prisoners, we have no reason not  to sail at top speed.¡±

    ¡°This thing can go even faster? I better ready my stomach, then,¡± whined Elena.

    ¡°Everybody, to their position.¡±

    ¡°Roger,¡± said each member of the Dead Sea Pirates, all in unison¡­minus Elena of course, who lagged a bit behind.

    ¡°R¡ªroger!¡± She performed a military salute, a completely unnecessary maneuver as her peers did no such motion. Besmirched by everyone¡¯s awkward stares, she tried to change the subject.

    ¡°By the way, where are Charles and Cordelia?¡±

    ¡°Last time I saw them, they were by my mother¡¯s old library, reading a book,¡± Miles said.

    ¡°Reading a what now?¡± Elena screamed.

    ¡°A book,¡± Galen said, sounding absolutely pompous in his tone. ¡°I understand commoners as yourself might not have heard of such devices, but let me explain them to you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Be right back. I have some eggs I need to scramble.¡±

    With steps that resounded like those of a giant, Elena abandoned the deck and went down to the living quarters. Strolling down a hallway, she took a turn left and then another one right. She burst open the door to her right.

    ¡°What are you¡ª wait, wrong room.¡±

    She¡¯d heard murmur stemming from around that area, but misjudged the direction the sound emanated from. Instead, she entered the room Bronson and Galen shared, as evidenced by portraits of the two of them hugging.

    As much as it inspired her¡­curiosity to see what else they kept there, she closed the door, turned around, and opened the new door before her.

    ¡°Now, what are you doing?¡±

    Miles had called it a library, but in truth all the room had was a shelf full of books and a round, wooden table by the middle, all illuminated by candlelight. A modest space, but Charles and Cordelia appeared quite comfy, as they sat by the table reading, each holding one side of the book.

    ¡°Hello there, Elena,¡± said Charles, raising his eyes as he faked cordiality. ¡°Have you come join us? You might need to fetch another chair.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like that plural of yours,¡± Elena said with disgust. ¡°Cordelia, what are you doing with him?¡±

    ¡°We happened to coincide here, so Lord Charles suggested we read together. My apologies for not informing you.¡±

    ¡°So you came here of your own volition? Or did ¡®Lord¡¯ Charles¡ªwho, by the way, is no longer your boss, so you can drop the ¡®Lord¡¯ thing¡ªdrag you here?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I have. Reading was one of the few pleasures I was allowed back in Catella. The collection here does not compare to the Royal Library, but¡­¡±

    Cordelia paused her speech. She tenderly ran her fingers down the pages of the book they were reading just then.

    ¡°I was curious what books my mother liked. If I read the same words she once did, maybe I could learn a little more about what kind of woman she was.¡±

    Such a profound reasoning spoke to Elena, who was swarmed with emotion.

    ¡°AUGH I¡¯M SOOOORRY I CANNOT BE MAD WITH YOU!¡± Elena said, a blubbering mess, as she violently rubbed her cheeks on Cordelia¡¯s.

    ¡°It is fine, I am not offended in the slightest,¡± Cordelia said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll read with you. Just the two of us. I was something of a bookworm back home, after all.¡±

    ¡°Hmph.¡± With a pompous look and mannerisms, Charles rose to his feet, attracting the looks of the two girls. ¡°Since I appear to have been replaced in the role of reading partner, I guess I better make my leave. Unless either of you are opposed, of course.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry,¡± said Elena, in a reassuring tone and with a big smile. Her eyebrows then furrowed, giving way to a glare worthy of a fiend that revealed her true feelings. ¡°You are indeed no longer needed. So you are invited to get the fuck out.¡±

    She was disguising her disdain in polite language, but in the end she couldn¡¯t keep the act up. Such was the animosity Elena held for Charles, a man who stood for everything Elena despised.

    Cordelia remained silent, her innocent blue eyes only blinking in response to the scene before them. Devoid of anyone willing to defend his presence, Charles made his leave.

    ¡°Phew, thought he would never leave. Are you okay?¡± Elena asked Cordelia. ¡°He didn¡¯t put any strange ideas into your head, did he?¡±

    ¡°Your concern is unwarranted. All Prince Charles did was aid me with some complex vocabulary I couldn¡¯t quite make out.¡±

    Raising her chin in a proud manner, Elena said, ¡°Hmph. Worry not. I am here now. I shall read along with you!¡±

    She gave no pause to her bravado. With a confident smile, her behind plopped into the wooden chair Charles abandoned. Her hands grabbed the open book, and her eyes stared at the first page with the intensity of a sunbeam.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ wait, I can¡¯t read.¡±

    Realizing her mistake, her eyes briefly darted toward the direction of Cordelia, who simply observed her with confusion.

    ¡°Nononono, I meant, I just have eyesight problems, that¡¯s all! I obviously can read, ehem.¡±

    Her attempt to backtrack was not going to fool Cordelia, not when her hands were clearly fidgety.

    ¡°It is understandable if you were never taught how to read. I myself only know how thanks to my teacher.¡±

    ¡°Well no, it¡¯s not that. It¡¯s just¡­¡± She held a finger to her chin, struggling to explain. ¡°I CAN read, it¡¯s just¡­ we don¡¯t use these letters in my hometown.¡±

    Cordelia¡¯s eyes lit up, and she clasped her hands together, hungry to learn more. ¡°Really? I¡¯ve been taken across the entire continent, and I always saw these same letters. Where are you from?¡±

    ¡°Umm, I¡¯m from Far. Far away. A small town. Probably never heard of it. Yeah,¡± lied Elena, puffing her chest. ¡°Culture¡¯s pretty different, y¡¯know?¡±

    ¡°Will you take me there one day?¡± Cordelia asked, a sincerity the girl seldom showed. ¡° I remember how elated I felt when I finally understood the meaning of those letters I¡¯d seen over and over again. I¡¯d love to experience that again.¡±

    She was spewing out bullshit, but Cordelia seemed smitten all the same. This made Elena¡¯s shoulders release their tension, and she felt relief wash over her. Cordelia¡¯s blue eyes devoured her with their innocence, and Elena felt the emotions her heart was pumping out take over her mind.

    She¡¯s so precious.

    She was overwhelmed. Her heart was beating rapidly. Cordelia¡¯s presence brought light into her life like a doll does to a child.

    To be looked this way, to be perceived with such amicable eyes¡­ for a self-described loser like Elena, such a sensation was unnatural, a contradiction to the rules of the world.

    Thus, she would record this moment in her memories forever.

    ¡°Sure. I promise we¡¯ll go there someday. I¡¯ll teach you all the words I know.¡±

    She followed her supposed promise with a giggle, an acknowledgement of the falsehood of her words. The odds of taking Cordelia to her hometown, her real hometown, were slim, as her birthplace existed only in her memories.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    But when she saw Cordelia¡¯s adorable, blissful reaction, she knew lying had been the correct choice. For it was the option that led her savor those eyes she so esteemed for a little while longer, eyes that glimmered with such delight Elena could not believe they were looking at her.

    ¡°BUT! That will be in the future. In the meantime, wanna read this out loud? For me?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Cordelia replied, taking hold of the book with excitement.

    They both smiled and laughed together, enjoying both the story as well as this time they shared together.

    <hr>

    She thought it was over. But that night, those sensations returned.

    A swath of creatures, bunching up together, taking turns tearing apart her body limb by limb. Edge of blades mercilessly penetrated every sensitive part of her.

    That was at least what she could make out. In truth, the pain was so overwhelming, so complete in its malice, that it exceeded the spoken word¡¯s ability to describe. It was an experience more proper to an animal, one who¡¯s fallen victim to a predator: a being once full of life, reduced down to a spattering of flesh and bone.

    There was no reason for this suffering. It wasn¡¯t born out of malice or a hatred for her persona. It wasn¡¯t some karmic payment for a misdeed she¡¯d committed. She¡¯d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, surrounded by Kabeasts that acted in accordance to their destructive nature.

    And yet, it remained a burden she and she alone had to carry.

    The only person who could be blamed was¡­

    <hr>

    ¡°ARGHH!¡±

    Her back hit the wooden floor with aplomb. She managed to avoid injuring the back of her head by a stroke of fortune. Her feet were kicking the air, and the back of her legs were making contact with the bed she¡¯d just fallen out of.

    The room Leila had assigned to her was simple, featuring a bed, a desk and little else. But it was sandwiched between the rooms of Miles and Cordelia, which meant Elena appreciated it beyond the actual contents of the room. Most relevant, it also featured a window for the sake of natural light; the presence of a dark sky beyond the glass indicated it was still nighttime.

    ¡°That dang nightmare¡­ again¡­¡± Elena blurted out as the world she stood on spun, her hand gripping her forehead to slow down her headache.

    Reliving that agonizing moment had proven enough to disturb her sleep. This wasn¡¯t the first time it¡¯d happened, but at least before she¡¯d awoken at the time of day. This time, she would have to spend a boring rest of the night doing absolutely nothing, as the rest of the crew remained and she wasn¡¯t sleepy in the slightest.

    ¡°I could take the opportunity to stargaze in solitude, I suppose. Okay, technically I think Galen should be keeping guard on the watchtower¡­ then again, that¡¯s just a chance to mess with him a bit,¡± she said, grinning like a devious cat.

    With careful steps, Elena sneaked around the hallways of the ship¡¯s living quarters, intending to head outside. As she got closer and closer to the double doors separating the deck from the areas below, she became startled by the growing cacophony of clanking steel.

    What is going on?

    Carefully, she slightly opened the right door and peeked through the resulting gap.

    ¡°I knew it! That son of a bitch!¡±

    Under the light of the stars, a duel was taking place. Miles and Charles traded blows back and forth with one another, grit filling their faces.

    ¡°GAAAAH!¡± Charles roared as he lunged forward.

    Putting all his force into his blade, he aimed an overhead blow toward Miles, an attack as ferocious as it was delicate in form. Wordlessly, the weapon¡¯s arc spoke the emotions of its wielder; the blade swung with strength, but its path was revealed in advance. Charles¡¯ motions, albeit showing proper technique, were too telegraphed, too revealing of his inexperience with real fighting.

    Miles blocked with a flick of his wrist, as swift as it was effortless. His eyes did not shake at the incoming attack, nor did his arms experience any recoil.

    Nothing more than a casual display of the strength of Miles of the Dead Sea Pirates, a man for whom fighting was as common an experience as breathing.

    Their swords locked with one another, their faces within kissing distance, Charles pushed with all his might. Sweat was beginning to drip down to his neck as he tried to overpower the handsome rogue, whose entire being seemed to exist to stand above him, an ideal he could never reach no matter how hard he tried.

    A pointless struggle with an expected end. Miles¡¯s strength combined with the weaving of the ship proved too much for the former prince, who lost his balance and fell on his back.

    The tip of his blade threatening Charles¡¯ neck, Miles said, ¡°You lose!¡±

    Still spying through the door, Elena breathed a sigh of relief. Not that she had any doubt of Miles¡¯ victory, but it was still reassuring.

    ¡°Now, kill him, kill him!¡± she excitedly muttered under her breath, giving a thumbs-down like a Roman Emperor.

    To her surprise however, Miles slotted his blade into its scabbard and offered Charles a hand to get back up.

    ¡°You are too predictable. In a real battle, concealing your intentions is key to keeping your head on your shoulders.¡±

    ¡°This is the fifth night in a row you¡¯ve said the same thing!¡± Charles complained.

    Oh, they were just sparring realized Elena. In hindsight, Galen was likely watching from the watchtower, so he would have rushed to announce to everyone else if there was suddenly a traitor among them.

    ¡°Because it¡¯s the fifth night in a row you¡¯ve done the same thing,¡± Miles said. ¡°When closing your distance with an enemy, prioritize your run, then strike with a quick blow once you¡¯re within striking distance.¡±

    As he put his own rapier away, Charles diverted his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t help it. My emotions influence the way my arm moves,¡± he said, defeated.

    ¡°If you want to improve as a fighter, you must forgo focus on all but the fight before you. That was what my father instilled upon me as a kid,¡± said Miles. ¡°We¡¯re done for the night, let¡¯s head to sleep.¡±

    And that¡¯s my cue to leave Elena said to herself. She didn¡¯t want to be caught spying on them, so she turned around to head back to her room, at least until they both left.

    ¡°I know you are there, Elena,¡± Miles shouted, clearly exasperated.

    At hearing him call his name, Elena¡¯s body froze. Miles opened the door behind her, and approached her frame.

    ¡°What are you doing these late at night pretending to be stealthy?¡± Miles asked.

    Without the grace of even turning around to face him, Elena answered, ¡°Oh, I just, couldn¡¯t sleep, yeah. I wasn¡¯t spying on what you guys were doing or anything.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not like these nighttime spars were meant to be a secret or anything. Galen was already watching us from above.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡± She turned around.

    ¡°If you¡¯re having trouble sleeping, I can give you my mattress.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no no no. That¡¯s not the problem. I¡¯ve just been¡­ having recurring nightmares, is all.¡±

    Elena admitted that with a hint of shame, rubbing her own shoulder. Miles reacted to her feelings, a look of concern growing on his face.

    ¡°I see¡­ I suppose I can¡¯t help you. You have been through a lot, after all. But I¡¯ll see if Leila¡¯s heard of any way to quell nightmares.¡±

    Elena felt touched by his honest, caring demeanor, but at the same time was a tad perplexed. ¡°Is there a way to prevent bad dreams in this world?¡±

    ¡°Not that I know of. But I don¡¯t know all there is to know.¡± He tenderly touched her shoulder. ¡°See you tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°S¡ªsee you.¡±

    Miles departed toward his bedroom, abandoning the reach of Elena¡¯s longing gaze.

    Immediately afterward, she began squealing uncontrollably. ¡°He cares for me so much. So. So. Cute.! She felt like bawling, almost. ¡°Anyway, I should get back to my objective: getting some fresh air.¡±

    She went through the doors and got to the upper deck. There, she remembered she had company.

    ¡°Oh, right. You¡¯re still here.¡±

    ¡°That I am,¡± said Charles, speaking directly at Elena. Her annoyance at his person was so evident that he picked up on it immediately, the young man recoiling in response to her grimacing.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Elena¡¯s question served the double role of both inquiry and accusation. Her tone indicated she was suspicious of the young man.

    Charles, picking up on the hidden meaning behind her words, gave an adequate answer. ¡°I have no hidden motives, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re implying.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb with me. You want me to believe you¡¯re all buddy-buddy with both the girl you treated as a slave and the man you tried to kill? Yeah, right.¡±

    ¡°Your lack of belief is comprehensible. But improbability is not the same as falseness. I cannot prove my loyalty to you lot, but that doesn¡¯t mean it doesn¡¯t exist.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°Whatever. Augh, I don¡¯t even understand why they didn¡¯t just kill you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, did nobody tell you?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Elena exclaimed. She was simply thinking out loud, not expecting Charles actually to have a reason.

    He reached into his pocket. In the palm of his hand, he held a cristal that emitted a glowing light.

    ¡°This crystal might seem familiar.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, don¡¯t remind me. That¡¯s the crystal you used to flash-bang us during the ball.¡±

    Despite the disgust she voiced, she found herself at an emotional crossroad as she observed the crystal. On the one hand, it reminded her of that woeful day, when a series of events led to the most traumatic sensation her soul had ever tasted. But at the same time, the light seemed to massage that same troubled soul, putting her mind at ease.

    Wow, I¡¯m easily distracted by pretty lights. She shook her head.

    ¡°These crystals allow for a Sword Dancer to channel the power of the Goddess herself. Light crystals are extremely rare, however, so only members of the Royal Family of Luzterna know how to wield their power.¡±

    ¡°So not only is Miles training you, but you are training him to use Light Crystals?¡±

    ¡°In effect. Also, attacks powered by Light mana are effective on Kabeasts, so even as a novice in the sword my abilities shall prove plenty useful¡±

    Elena could not help but remain a bit concerned, but she accepted his explanation. It was relieving, in a way, to know Miles had assessed the risks inherent to having such a shaky character like Charles onboard.

    ¡°So then, Elena, let me ask the same question you posed back at you.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Which one?¡±

    ¡°What are YOU doing?¡±

    Elena tilted her head. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°You asked why I was reading with Miss Cordelia and training with Miles, am I correct? So let me direct the question back to you. What compels you to perform similar actions?¡±

    It was true she had done the things Charles claimed. Earlier in the day, before landing at Barpueblo, she¡¯d been training with Miles in the art of swordplay, using wooden swords. Then, she sat next to Cordelia, reading a book alongside her.

    ¡°That is none of your business!¡±

    ¡°I suppose it is not,¡± Charles said. ¡°I just find it a little curious how you were so quick to accuse me of misconduct, despite being unable to justify similar actions.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t know I needed your permission,¡± Elena snarked.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to justify anything to me. But can you justify your actions to yourself, I wonder? When I saw you spar, there was no ambition in your eyes, no will to improve. Could you answer what drove you to doing so, then?¡±

    Elena, who had so far dismissed his words as sententious nonsense, suddenly felt a wind sweep over her.

    In truth, she never held any delusions that she could one day wield a sword. More than training, what she was really doing was playing with glorified sticks.

    All along, it was no more than an excuse to flirt with him. Spending time with him in the sunlight, their bodies sweating as she dropped quips and he touched her body to fix her posture. It was a fantastical scenario taken straight out of a High Seas romance novel.

    ¡°And you were so insistent on taking over as Miss Cordelia¡¯s reading partner, despite being unable to even read. Was there some deeper reason for your behavior?¡±

    ¡°What are you¡­¡±

    She could not refute his accusation. Albeit she did enjoy reading, she was compelled to act by a foolish, naive desire. She wanted to have Cordelia all to herself, to keep pristine the pretty little doll she saw in her.

    Her view of both Miles and Cordelia was distorted by fantasy stories she¡¯d read throughout her life on earth. No matter how much she learned of them, how much honest affection she felt toward them, she could not disguise that her feelings were shaped by the expectations she had of them.

    Miles was the handsome rogue who saved her whenever she was in danger. A man willing to risk it all for his lady. Strong arms that made her feel safe when she received their hugs. A face that featured handsome features as well as an overly-long nose for a touch of cuteness. A stoic personality that was a front for his more dorkly, caring side he only revealed to her.

    Her ideal romantic lead¡ªthat was the image of Miles projected inside Elena¡¯s head.

    Cordelia was a weak, broken girl of unusual yet attractive appearance whose spirit had been torn down by the cruel hand life had dealt her. Estranged from her brother, Cordelia had been forced to work against her will. To survive, she¡¯d discarded all emotions and desires for life. That is, until Elena swooped in, rescuing her and returning the light to her life.

    A precious little maiden for Elena to protect¡ªthat was the image of Cordelia projected inside Elena¡¯s head.

    Were those images truly accurate representations of their persons? Or was she just fitting them into pre-existing archetypes from stories she¡¯d read?

    And finally, there remained one topic Elena had put off thinking about, banishing within the recesses of her mind: was she allowed to hold feelings for the two of them at the same time? Or was she simply stringing them both along? Miles had even confessed his love to her, but she¡¯d failed to respond to him, as she was yet to balance how she felt toward him with how she felt toward Cordelia.

    I am a rotten woman

    Elena could not help but feel disgust toward her own self. Not just for her perverse viewing of those she supposedly held dear¡ªbut for needing Charles, of all people, to be the one to point it out.

    ¡°I hate you.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°I meant what I said. I hate you,¡± Elena repeated.

    Their relationship had not improved. Elena still despised him. But now there was a new reason. Him pointing out flaws within herself, flaws she¡¯d rather ignore, only gave further fuel for her hatred for the man that was Charles.

    ¡°If my words have hit a nerve, I recommend looking inward,¡± Charles said. ¡°I do not believe it is only hatred for myself what you hold.¡±

    ¡°Stop pretending you know anything about me,¡± she said. ¡°No matter how much you blabber, my image of you will never change.¡±

    ¡°Really? Is your opinion of my person truly set in stone?¡±

    Her fists shook. ¡°I am literally awake right now because I cannot sleep. And you know why that is? Your little stunt at the ball led to one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. And you expect me to forgive you? Nope. Not possible.¡±

    Charles¡¯ eyes glimmered at her harsh words. He scratched the back of his head, his gaze darting in every direction.

    ¡°I suppose my actions have caused you unbearable harm. For that, I can only apologize.¡±

    ¡°Your apology is worth nothing.¡±

    ¡°If you need to speak about what happened to you, I would be glad to listen,¡± offered Charles.

    At that suggestion, Elena grimaced, and said, ¡°Why would I want therapy from you, of all people?¡±

    ¡°Because you cannot tell anyone else, am I correct? Not even Miles or Cordelia.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    How presumptuous of him, to consider himself more worthy of her trust than the man and woman she loved. Elena wanted to stomp him like a bug, squashing his life in an instant.

    ¡°You have a secret you haven¡¯t told anyone. Otherwise, you¡¯d have died long ago.¡±

    ¡°You bastard, how do you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because you just told me!¡± He chuckled.

    Elena bared her teeth. He was correct. Her ability to return from death was not something she¡¯d shared with anyone else. As far as she knew, there was nothing forbidding her from revealing her power, no spell that kept her from speaking. She¡¯d simply not been compelled to.

    Why could that be? Was she just¡­ afraid?

    Would spreading knowledge of her ability change the image she held of others? The image they had of her?

    Meeting Charles¡¯ intense stare with one of her own, Elena puffed her chest. In many stories she¡¯d read, sharing knowledge about such dangerous power would result in terrible consequences, often leading to either the listener''s or speaker¡¯s deaths.

    I guess if I¡¯m willing to risk anyone¡¯s life, it¡¯s his.

    With that morbid thought, Elena readied her throat.

    ¡°Listen Charles. When I d¡ª¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got trouble!¡±

    Her confession was hastily interrupted. Descending at the speed of raindrops, Galen slid down the watchtower¡¯s ladder and announced the incoming danger.

    ¡°Kabeasts¡ªthey are swimming rapidly toward us!¡±

 Act 2 Ch 4: Useless

    ¡°Death Sirens! They are swimming towards us! Sir Charles, please get inside!¡±

    Agitated, Galen performed the role of a human alarm. Through the use of a special telescope powered by a Fire Crystal, he¡¯d managed to spot the incoming threat even in the dark of the night.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that would be unwise,¡± Charles replied. ¡°On such narrow corridors, a fighter of my quality could prove¡ªARRGH!¡±

    Without even finishing his sentence, Charles let out a screech as he dropped to his haunches and covered his ears, his face conveying pain.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Elena asked with a widened stare.

    ¡°Oh no. It¡¯s begun already,¡± said Galen.

    At that moment, a loud whisper sailed across the heavens. It was uncanny in its beauty. It carried the pleasantness of a song, and simultaneously caused your stomach to turn.

    ¡°Go tell everyone else,¡± said Elena, observing Galen standing still like a statue. ¡°I¡¯ll watch over Charles.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Lady Elena, but you staying here is dangerous. I advise you to accompany me¡ª¡±

    ¡°GO!¡±

    Elena shouted her order, and Galen was left with no choice but to comply. ¡°Very well. But be careful. The Siren¡¯s song is a powerful spell, said to hypnotize all men who listen to it. Nobody knows what effect it may have on the Prince.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Hurry.¡±

    Turning away from Galen, Elena turned her attention to Charles, whose body had now collapsed onto the wooden floor.

    ¡°Come on, resist it.¡±

    Elena tried to hold Charles tightly, but his body rejected her touch with a violent quake. Undecipherable nonsense seeped out of his mouth, the cries of a man whose control over his own body had been overruled.

    Despite this, Elena insisted, her arms surrounding his torso. She felt she had no choice. If these Sirens were like those from myths from her own world, then leaving Charles alone could result in him hurling himself into the sea.

    Part of me would be fine with that Elena thought to herself. But much as she wanted to entertain that thought, the situation asked for seriousness out of her. She licked her lips, put on a brave face, and put all of her muscle strength into wrestling with Charles.

    ¡°GAH. ARGHHAHAAHG.¡±

    Almost as if suffering a seizure, his entire body would not stop shaking, all while his voice exclaimed blood-curdling screams. Elena glanced behind her, hoping to see the rest of the crew arrive at last.

    ¡°Come on already! I don¡¯t know how much longer I¡¯ll be able to hold him in¡ª¡±

    She halted her complaining mid-sentence, as she was struck by an unusual sight.

    ¡ªHer left arm, launched upward, scattering drops of blood as it flew across its path.

    Her eyes widened. Her entire body froze, unable to process the situation. Her throat was so dry she could die of thirst.

    It was happening again. The memories were coming back. Where her arm should be, there was pain. Indescribable, undecipherable pain.

    Was today a day that would forever haunt her dreams? Her nightmare had begun in a similar way, losing a limb at the hands of someone she thought she could trust. Was today gonna result in a similar fate?

    Those questions troubled her mind as she witnessed Charles rise to his feet and turn around to face her. Unlike Mr.H before, his overall appearance did not differ much from his usual self. His skin retained its usual form, and he lacked the beak common to Kabeasts.

    Only one aspect had changed.

    The aggression his eyes conveyed¡ªonly a murderous beast could carry such a gaze.

    Recognizing trouble was approaching, Elena gripped the side of her shoulder to prevent blood from leaking and leaped to the side. Her guess proved correct; Charles lunged at her with his sword with all the weight of his body, swinging at the air Elena left behind.

    Her movement was a preemptive one, out of necessity. Bearing the pain from her arm, her already-slow reactions would not have sufficed to dodge in time had she waited for Charles to swing. She¡¯d been lucky to guess both his intention as well as his timing. Had she moved any sooner, Charles would¡¯ve realized and altered the trajectory of his attack. Had she been any slower, she¡¯d have been cut like Swiss cheese.

    Then again, would that be so bad she pondered, as the aching from her torn limb burned into her soul.

    She was going to die. The bells were tolling for her inevitable end. And yet, the nightmarish requiem dragged on, filling the air with pointless tension building toward a climax long forecasted.

    She didn¡¯t want to die. Death still terrified her. But death itself she was willing to make peace with. It was the prelude to death what she truly feared, a piece consisting of her screams instead of notes.

    A putrid odor filled her nostrils. She glanced to her left and let out a defeated sigh.

    Of course. There was no other way.

    ¡°Kill,¡± a dozen demonic voices said in unison

    The creatures that uttered that word differed in appearance from those found in her recurring nightmares. They carried the look of voluptuous women much like mermaids, except their lower body resembled the bottom of a slug rather than fins. Their breasts were bare, with their nipples possessing the shape of a beak. Their arms ended in sharp, feline claws the size of Elena¡¯s entire head. A mere poke by one of those would be enough to stab through Elena¡¯s intestines.

    They lumbered toward her from the right, while Charles did the same from her left. Surrounded, the inanity of her situation made itself clear.

    Why was she struggling? Any second that she remained alive, the worse her death could be. Taking death by Charles¡¯ blade was probably painless in comparison to what she knew those creatures, driven entirely by bloodlust, had the potential to dish out.

    Charles¡¯ blade swung in a horizontal arc, aimed at Elena¡¯s neck. Compared to the one previous, it was a slow, clunky attack, lacking in proper form and easily avoidable.

    ¡ªAnd yet, it landed upon its target, splitting Elena¡¯s head from her body.

    <hr>

    ¡°Get up.¡±

    A feminine voice called for her.

    More than a person, it sounded like a memory. Its sound overwhelmed the maelstrom of darkness that comprised her surroundings.

    ¡°You really haven¡¯t changed at all.¡±

    A correct assessment.

    For one with a power like hers, to slumber in the realm of the dead was no different from sleeping in her bed.

    Much as before, Elena had been given an opportunity to fight. To stand tall against adversity.

    And same as before, she¡¯d chosen the route of weakness.

    Elena had said that she¡¯d fight to change the world. And yet, she was afraid of the hardship such a stance would bring. That was why, when faced with the risk of a painful, drawn-out death, Elena instead chose to be slain in a quick, clean manner.

    If she was an existence transcendent of human limits, one content with suffering in the name of her beliefs, then she would have no need to ever make such a choice. Knowing she was more useful alive than dead, Elena would have stood tall and fought, however she could and for as long as she could, against the rampage of the incoming beasts.

    But that was not the existence that Elena was.

    She was a brittle being, one whose determination was as fragile as the bones that formed her body.

    She could fill her mouth all she wanted, with platitudes about ending the injustices of the world. But so long as her resolve was a faltering one, she would have no choice but to submit.

    ¡°There¡¯s no helping you. Die and stay dead.¡±

    ¡°No. Shut up!¡±

    Her drifting soul fought back against the voice. The clouds of darkness dispersed, and light broke into the dark void that filled her whole world. The light led her back, to the world she yearned to return to.

    Simply adorable. Worthy of a laugh. There remained enough light inside of her to snatch her away from my grip.

    It was only a matter of time, however. The day would soon come.

    One day, my dear Elena¡ªyou¡¯ll be powerless before the despair inhabiting your soul.

    <hr>

    The world surrounding Elena had changed.

    The tranquility of the nightly sea remained there. A deep blue hue spread endlessly in both sea and sky.

    Yet within the barrier surrounding the Hellwave¡¯s Traveler, chaos had ensued. The screech of creatures assaulted her ears, and that odor she¡¯d smelled as she died only grew in intensity.

    Lying prone, Elena slowly opened her eyes, observing the battle from the floor. She saw about six Death Sirens, crowding up together with bloodlust on their hungry claws.

    ¡°Die, you scum.¡±

    A feminine scream announced the upcoming attack. The azure that tinted the air was suddenly tainted by a splash of orange. An explosion of fire heated the atmosphere, spreading flames across the body of the beasts.

    ¡°Leila got¡­ this under control, I see¡­¡± Elena whispered under her breath.

    Her body was back to usual form after reviving from death. Her arm was stitched back together, and her head was glued back to her neck.

    And yet, Elena felt weak, weaker than she¡¯d ever been. Observing her immediate surroundings, the area near her was free from danger. All the monsters appeared indifferent to her existence.

    She¡¯d been gifted the opportunity to stand up and contribute something to the result of the battle. Maybe yell at the creatures and provide a distraction.

    Instead, her body rebelled against that idea. Perhaps she found the wooden floor just as comfy as a bed, or perhaps she was simply too afraid of that soul-crushing pain again. But in any case, Elena acted as a mere bystander to the carnage, content with seeing Leila successfully shoot their enemies.

    But her view would come to be blocked. Beefy legs clad in black slops got in the way.

    A sight she¡¯d peeked at many, many times with lustful eyes, she immediately uttered the name of the man those legs belonged to.

    ¡°Miles?¡±

    Her body radiated a sense of relief. She raised her eyes and head upward. She was met by the face of the handsome, young pirate.

    Except it was all wrong.

    The luster of those golden eyes shone for its absence, the void of his pupils eclipsing it entirely. A spire of screams overtook all other sounds, and at that moment, Miles¡¯ right arm began to lurch. Without a word, he raised his blade before the cowering Elena, who simply covered her face with her hands as if it would accomplish anything.

    Elena screamed her lungs out as the blade came down toward her, a scream appropriate for an attack of such magnitude.

    An attack that never reached its target.

    ¡°Barrera. Invocar. Proteger.¡±

    The sound of steel slashing through steel that should¡¯ve followed his swing was forbidden from taking shape. In its place, a splosh reverberated loudly. A barrier made of floating water waves appeared before Elena¡¯s eyes.

    The way waves dictate the course of a ship, the waves altered the course of Miles¡¯ blade, diverting its cutting edge away from Elena.

    A Water spell cast with the aim of protecting one dear. Miles turned to face the caster, who¡¯d dared get between him and his victim.

    With an arm extended as her silver hair fluttering in the wind, Cordelia strode toward them. Her azure eyes, which at a glance blended in with the dark of the night, shone bright with fierce determination.

    ¡°Lady Elena, please find somewhere to hide.¡±

    ¡°I told you not to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not the time!¡± Cordelia shouted as Miles lunged with his blade at her. ¡°Invierno. Encubrir. Alrededor.¡±

    Rays of blue beamed out of her raised arm. Soon, that blue glow spread across her entire body, and soon spilled out of her and into the world around her.

    In an instant, waves of ice traveled the air in all directions.

    Miles, caught by the sudden frostbite, found his feet frozen in a block of ice. As he was moving forward when this happened, the sudden break in his forward momentum caught him off-guard, and he flailed his arms and dropped his weapon. The magic Cordelia had cast forbade him from moving, effectively removing him from the battle.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The Death Sirens recoiled at the blizzard of Mana. It didn¡¯t kill nor particularly harm any of them. What the ice did manage was to stun them long enough for Leila to aim her gun at the heads of three of them. The ensuing fireballs torched the creatures¡¯ bodies,

    Elena, by contrast to all of them, felt the temperature decrease, but was otherwise unharmed. The cold Cordelia had brought was a selective one, that actively chose who to hurt and who to ignore.

    But a spell of such magnitude was sure to come at a steep cost. Especially on one with as frail a build as Cordelia.

    With the grace of a fluttering feather, Cordelia collapsed to the ground. Her descent was slow, as if she was fighting to stay afloat.

    ¡°Cordelia!¡±

    Elena raced to the girl¡¯s aid, catching her body with her arms.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about Miss Cordelia. Tiredness is a natural part of casting such powerful magic. I need you to concentrate on the battle.¡±

    The one speaking to her was Galen, a fact Elena only recognized once she saw his face, for his voice lacked its characteristic pompous ring. Instead, he spoke in a hurry, desperation coloring his tone.

    ¡°You can¡¯t expect me to just leave her here! I¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll watch over her,¡± Galen interrupted. ¡°I beg of you. Help out Bronson.¡±

    Galen¡¯s honest plea struck Elena with the force of a cannonball. The words he uttered made an impact on her, but not the one she suspected he was hoping for. Elena blinked in rapid succession, then tilted her head.

    ¡°Pardon? You are asking me to help out a tough guy like Bronson?¡±

    ¡°Whatever you can do, it¡¯s sure to be more than I can,¡± he said, glancing down at himself. ¡°Look!¡± He pointed with his arm.

    On the opposite wing of the ship, a unique branch of the battle was taking shape. Bronson found himself wrestling against a small platoon of about a dozen Death Sirens. They weren¡¯t slashing at his skin with their claws. Rather, they stretched out their necks like rattlesnakes, and used them to cuff his limbs. One Death Siren wrapped his arms, another his legs. One more choked his neck. As they did this, their bodies lost their monstrous appearance, instead morphing into rope. Normal-seeming, brown rope. The remaining Sirens pulled his body, trying to drag him into the sea. Bronson struggled, difficulting their efforts, but should nobody intervene a moist fate awaited him.

    ¡°The song the Death Sirens chant¡­ it seems to have a hypnotic effect on men of the sea,¡± Galen said.

    ¡°Well, do something. You¡¯re his lover, aren¡¯t you?¡± Elena said, feeling saliva rush down her neck.

    ¡°I am useless!¡± Galen said. ¡°Anything I try would end in disaster. So please, Lady Elena, I beg of you¡­¡±

    The strength of his words began to fizzle out the longer he spent uttering them, more tears coming out of his eyes than sounds came out of his mouth. He was so assured in his own lack of worth that Elena could not help but believe his words. Among the many options that existed for getting them out of this situation, having Galen fight was not the correct one. It would not lead to victory.

    ¡°Ok, but what about Lei¡ª oh.¡±

    She interrupted herself, not having the gall to go forward with that suggestion.

    At that moment, Leila had her hands fully served. Albeit she¡¯d managed to kill off three of the Death Sirens that were encroaching on her, the other three remained chasing after her. Worst of all, a familiar attacker was also on her tail; the hypnotized Charles too was aiming for her head.

    For a long-range fighter, Leila was holding her ground surprisingly well. She weaved between the slashes of both claw and sword, and used her long legs to deflect attacks when dodging was out of the question. But it was purely a defensive effort. The shots of her gun took a long time to charge compared to modern firearms from Earth while having about as much recoil, meaning that from such a close distance it was hard to shoot effectively. Plus, Charles made sure to stand in front of the creatures, ensuring he could block any fireball.

    It was clear that such a battle, were it allowed to carry on in its current state, would result in Bronson¡¯s death at best, in everyone¡¯s total annihilation at worst.

    Why me?

    It was unfair. A request beyond her level of competency. But it was a task that fell upon her all the same. Someone had to provide a turning point in their favor, and it appeared that person had to be her.

    But why her? Galen¡¯s frigid gaze and shivering body made for a pitiful, pathetic sight. But much as she wished she could claim to differ from him, to affirm so would mean to speak with a fervor that simply did not exist within her. After all, just minutes before, she¡¯d deliberately chosen to jump at a blade¡¯s edge, in exchange for not exposing her body to a worse pain.

    Was she really the kind of person who could provide a turning point in a battle?

    A raucous noise penetrated her ears, causing her eyes to blink. It was the screech of a Death Siren, who was approaching her and Galen. Before it could reach its destination, the creature was assaulted by an explosion of flame, seemingly coming down from the sky. This attack was enough to divert the beast¡¯s attention, instead turning for the one who¡¯d launched the fireball.

    This person was of course Leila. Despite being in a life-or-death struggle herself, Leila made the effort to leap into a nearby wall, bend her knees as the sole of her feet made contact with the wood, and propelled herself into the air. In mid-air, she shot toward the Death Siren who was creeping toward Elena and Galen.

    Witness to such a desperate maneuver, Elena clenched her fist, all remaining doubt exiting her body.

    With people such as Leila and Cordelia giving her all for her sake, she knew she had no right to lazily stand around. If it was up to her to make a difference, then she needed to make use of whatever chance she was gifted.

    Glancing around the environment, Elena had to devise a plan. Her eyes finished their darting upon noticing Miles¡¯s sword, lying on the ground. Without a sign of trembling on her pulse, Elena¡¯s legs began to move, one after the other. She crouched momentarily, picked up the blade, and looked at the Death Sirens that had Bronson under their control.

    She closed her eyes. Her mind ran simulations of what might occur were this to go awry. She¡¯d get torn to shreds. Dozens of sharp claws would puncture her body, stripping her of her blood and guts. Her eyes would get poked. Her neck would get cut open.

    Steered up for such fates, she let out a roaring cry as she rushed forward.

    ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH¡±

    With all the strength her arms provided her, she swung at the slug-like torso of the nearest beast.

    The steel she wielded clanked against it, and the weapon bounced off her hand, sent flying before landing on the floor.

    ¡°Huh?¡± she exclaimed, as she stared at her now empty hand.

    ¡°Oh right,¡± Galen chimed in, ¡°Death Siren bodies have the appearance of slugs, but they possess the sturdiness of metal.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re telling me this now!¡± Elena reproached.

    All her pathetic attempt-at-an-attack had succeeded at was angering the Death Siren, who roared at Elena, showing its fangs.

    ¡°Oh crap!¡±

    The Siren stretched out its torso, and used it to sweep the floor in front of it, knocking Elena backward into the floor.

    Towering over its supine prey, the creature with the appearance of a busty woman readied its claws for a killing strike.

    ¡°Kill.¡±

    Elena took a deep breath. Then, she let out a chortle.

    Isn¡¯t it funny? I always used to post on Tumblr about wanting sexy women to tear me apart. And now that it¡¯s about to happen, I¡¯m afraid.

    More than a thought, a coping method. That dreaded pain was soon to arrive. Scars that would accompany her for the rest of her life were about to be carved on her psyche. All she could do was close her eyes and wait for it to be over.

    Those sensations she dreaded so, so much¡ªthey never arrived.

    In their place, she felt a breeze. That of a sword that moved so fast, it seemed to kick up wind as it traveled.

    ¡°Miles?¡± she said, questioning what her eyes relayed to her.

    The hypnotized swordsman stood between her and the beast, blocking the deadly blow. His body remained in a lurching state, and the color of his eyes alternated between its natural gold and a black that represented corruption.

    Even now, he was struggling between the seductive song of the Sirens, said to turn all men into slaves, and his will to fight for the woman he cherished dearly.

    ¡°He¡¯s resisting the spell for me!¡± Elena could not help but let out squee, with hearts in place of pupils.

    More than just resisting, however, he was overcoming it. Albeit he could not speak, he no longer showed hostility against Elena. Instead, his sword cleaved the Siren¡¯s head in one clean swoop.

    Understanding the threat Miles presented, two of the remaining Sirens lunged at him. They had the numbers advantage, but that was all they had. They cut through the air with their dirty, disease-ridden claws, but being mere monsters they lacked any real finesse. Miles, demonstrating the quality of his swordsmanship, parried each attack effortlessly.

    In order to protect their heads, which were their only weak point, the creatures grew in size, so much so their faces were about to pierce the sky.

    An attempt at powering up would require a similar increase in power to overcome. It was not a coincidence, then, that a harsh breeze began to blow.

    Miles¡¯ raised his sword. All around it, the wind began to dance.

    Soon, all of Miles¡¯ body was one with the wind.

    The sky, the sea¡ªthe entire world¡ª began to tremble, shaken by the power emanating from his blade. But Miles stood firm, simply staring upward at the creature that pretended to be his enemy.

    ¡°Kill.¡±

    A giant claws attempted to crush him. Even for a regular warrior, it was a predictable attack. For one that was merged with the wind, it was like avoiding a tortoise.

    Thus, Miles leaped into the air in an instant. He used the beast¡¯s arm as something of a stepping stone, landing his feet on it. Then, he bent his knees and leaped even higher. Once his upward momentum halted, he began running sideways up the Siren¡¯s torso, which despite its larval look was solid as titanium.

    Reaching the peak of the creature¡¯s height, Miles jumped and landed on its massive breasts. As they bounced downward, he swung his blade and cut its neck in one blow.

    As the head flew, he used the bouncing breasts as an improvised trampoline, propelling across the air into the head of the other Siren, who stood in parallel at a similar height. Swinging his sword, Miles became a soaring, human buzzsaw. The tip of the blade dug into the second Kabeast¡¯s forehead. Recoiling in pain, the creature tried to crush him with its hand, like trying to stomp a bug. Miles pulled the sword back and began to plummet; less than a second into his descent, he struck the neck in mid-air, cutting it in one fell swoop.

    He continued falling, his body about to collide with the floor. He slashed the air right beneath him; a gust of wind slowed his fall, making way for an elegant landing.

    Even after having known him for a month, Elena was awestruck. This was the power of a Wind Dancer. A man who could merge with the wind itself, channeling the power of the Wind God as fuel for his run.

    To think that in this world, warriors of such caliber existed¡­

    ¡ªTo think she seriously believed there was anything she could contribute to a battle of such scale.

    <hr>

    ¡°We won!¡±

    Elena, who remained entranced by the swordsman¡¯s transcendent skills, blinked rapidly. Leila¡¯s triumphant proclamation brought her back to reality.

    ¡°We did?¡± Elena glanced in all directions. There were no signs of any Death Sirens anywhere onboard.

    ¡°Charles here seems to no longer be under the Sirens¡¯ spell,¡± Leila said.

    ¡°I can confirm,¡± Charles said. ¡°I am back to being myself.¡±

    ¡°Not sure if that¡¯s a good thing, to be honest. But I guess not trying to murder us is an improvement,¡± Elena joked. ¡°Does that mean the creatures retreated?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± answered Leila. ¡°We slayed about half. The others recognized a lost cause and escaped into the sea. With them gone, their song lost effect.¡±

    ¡°So these creatures can enchant all men who hear their song¡­ wait a minute, then why wasn¡¯t Galen affected? He seemed fine to me.¡±

    Elena raised her question, and the impact on Charles and Leila was immediate. They both began pulling the collar of their shirts, and Charles let out a fake cough.

    ¡°Well, you see¡­ legends speak of Death Sirens seducing men, but it¡¯d be more accurate to say ¡®people who like women¡¯,¡± Charles explained. ¡°And Galen, well, y¡¯know¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh. Right, they look like women. Yeah. That makes sense¡­¡±

    Except it didn¡¯t. There was one thought that was dragging her through the mud.

    Elena bit her lower lip. She turned her head to look behind her, attempting to do so subtly but failing. What was on her mind was evident.

    Cordelia was lying on the floor. She was sleeping, recovering from the exhaustion casting that spell had caused her. Elena was relieved to confirm, but in truth, that wasn¡¯t the reason Cordelia was on her mind.

    ¡°Cordelia wasn¡¯t affected by the spell...¡±

    The implication of that fact weighed on her, so much so her heart wanted to escape from her chest.

    All this time, every time she met Cordelia¡¯s azure eyes, she¡¯d felt nothing but passion seep out of them. She was sure such tenderness in the face of a young lady could only be born from love.

    It was this concept that boosted Elena¡¯s resolve, what pushed her to fight in Cordelia¡¯s name.

    But if all along, Cordelia wasn¡¯t into girls, then surely she¡¯d been led astray.

    Elena felt betrayal take over her. Every act of rebellion she¡¯d made on the young girl¡¯s name flashed before her eyes. Each one seemed to lose its purpose.

    Then again, it had no effect on me, either.

    Continuing her thought from earlier, Elena exhaled smoke out of her nose, bewildered at her own hypocrisy. She, of all people, deserved no right to speak on this matter.

    Back in her world, most of her crushes had been men. Some real, some fictional, but men all the same. Only once had she been able to speak of loving a girl; even then, those were reckless words, words born from intense emotions that perished that same day.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry so much.¡±

    ¡°Waaah!¡±

    Resting her arms on Elena¡¯s shoulders, Leila looked at her with a smug grin. Her lips made of roses were so tantalizingly close, Elena had to fight off the impulse to smooch them. The perfection of her golden hair and pristine skin only served to further that urge.

    ¡°The spell is also ineffective on Marked. Which means that you and Cordelia were also immune to it.¡±

    Leila had read Elena¡¯s mind, effortlessly spotting the source of her worries. Elena wasn¡¯t sure if Leila¡¯s perception was extremely good, or if she was just that easy to read. Probably the latter.

    As she pondered further about things that mattered little, Elena had come to a realization.

    ¡°Wait, does this mean that you too are a Marked?¡± Elena asked.

    Leila tilted her head, sinking the both of them into an uncomfortable silence.

    ¡°Huh? Where did that come from?¡± I am not, for the record.¡±

    ¡°But then that means¡­¡±

    The realization struck Elena.

    The gorgeous blonde woman before her¡­ would never be into her. She could feel her soul leak out of her.

    ¡°I count this as queerbaiting¡±, she said under her breath, defeated.

    ¡°You count this as what, not?¡± Leila asked with a perturbed look.

    ¡°N¡ªNevermind. Anyway, you said Charles¡¯ back to normal, right? Then that means¡­¡±

    She glanced back to where Miles was standing. His hand was on his sheath. He was striking cool, dramatic pose. He brought his hand to his forehead, suffering a headache.

    ¡°What the¡­ what happened?¡±

    Elena stepped toward him, then said, ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry too much about it. You just got possessed by some demons. No biggie.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Miles yelled out loud. ¡°Did I harm anyone?¡±

    ¡°Nah, don¡¯t worry¡­ well, ok, you did try to kill me at one point, but Cordelia protected me! Everything¡¯s hunky-dory.¡±

    Elena spoke completely nonchalantly. Yet, her words provoked a reaction out of Miles, who brought his fist to his chest while his gaze froze.

    ¡°Again, don¡¯t worry, everything¡¯s fine!¡± Elena waved her hands. ¡°In fact, you looked really cool fighting all those monsters!¡±

    ¡°Is Cordelia fine?¡± Miles asked. His concern was written all over his voice.

    ¡°Yeah, she is over there, resting but untouched. Galen is watching over her, see?¡±

    Elena pointed at where Cordelia rested. To her shock, however, she was all alone, as Galen was not within her frame of view.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡±

    ¡°GAAAAAH!¡±

    Before she could even ask where he¡¯d gone, a cry of agony revealed the answer.

    Glancing to her left, a sight most despicable itched itself into her eyes. On his knees, Galen stared at the cold, uncaring sea.

    ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± Galen uttered, his voice deprived of any strength.

    Oh, shit.

    They had managed to fend off the Kabeast attack, but they¡¯d taken a casualty in the process¡ªBronson, under the Sirens¡¯ spell, had been dragged to the bottom of the sea.

    Left alone without the man he loved, Galen¡¯s heart appeared about to break. His legs were shaking, appearing willing to follow Bronson into the water. He stomped the floor with his fists, and his tears became one with the salt sea.

    ¡°I am all alone now.¡±

    Looking at the profile of the grieving man, Elena felt her own heart flutter. There was something so vivid, so intense about the emotions being portrayed, the scenario seemed ripped out of a BL manga.

    She kept that thought to herself, and simply strolled up to him and caressed his back, attempting to console him. ¡°Galen, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± He shouted, slapping away Elena¡¯s well-intentioned touch.

    In an instant, Galen¡¯s sorrow had morphed into wrathful aggression. He got on his feet and stared at her with a piercing gaze. He said no words, but Elena felt her soul sink into a puddle with every passing second.

    He then turned his body to face Miles. The intensity of his glare only increased, revealing the real target of his ire.

    ¡°You¡­ you resisted the Siren¡¯s spell for her. That¡¯s supposed to be impossible.¡±

    When only considering their meaning, Galen¡¯s words were of praise. But his cold tone and harsh body language revealed the truth of his feelings.

    ¡°And you did that for whom? For a random girl you barely know. But not for your supposed best friend?¡±

    His accusation struck a vein within Miles, as the pirate captain¡¯s eyes widened in response.

    ¡°Galen,¡± Leila interceded, ¡°Miles was literally mind-controlled. You can¡¯t just hold him accountable for something like this.¡±

    ¡°SHUT UP! Don¡¯t stand up for him¡±¡ªhe returned his focus to Miles¡ª ¡°We all know that you never cared for Bronson at all. Ever since finding your sister, all you care about is getting into some random Marked girl¡¯s pants!¡±

    ¡°Galen that¡¯s enough!¡± Leila shouted, trying to return order to the crew.

    Having lost control of his emotions, Galen was on the receiving end of everyone¡¯s stares. All of them empathized with him, but it was clear they perceived him as the bad guy. Miles, meanwhile, made no attempt to defend himself, simply casting his gaze downward, admitting guilt.

    ¡°Whatever. I don¡¯t know why I attempt to reason with any of you. I don¡¯t know why I joined this stinking crew!¡±

    Carving a trail of tears as he went, Galen dashed into the lower, presumably to share with his pillow his lament.

    ¡°Galen, wait!¡± Elena tried to say, but it served no purpose, her words unable to reach him.

 Act 2 Ch 5: Human

    With the arrival of the morning light, the Hellwave¡¯s Traveler inched closer and closer to its destination.

    But the air that permeated the ship¡¯s deck was not one of triumph. Having witnessed Bronson be dragged into the sea and Galen¡¯s ensuing meltdown, trepidation began to fester within everyone.

    ¡°Is Bronson¡­ dead?¡± Elena asked, struggling to even entertain the thought.

    The sound of her question struck both Miles and Leila harshly, but their reactions differed. Where Leila made a pained expression, Miles crossed his arms and played it aloof.

    In the end, it would be Charles who would answer for them. ¡°I read a tale about a man dragged into the depths of the ocean by a Siren. The man was taken to an underwater cavern, where the two fell in love. But in truth, all the creature wanted was to suck the Mana out of his blood.¡±

    ¡°There is little concrete knowledge about Kabeasts, as those who encounter them rarely live to tell the tale. So legends are about as reliable a source as any,¡± said Miles. The way he spoke piqued Elena¡¯s interest; completely stone-faced, his body language not conveying any strong emotions. Considering the man who was supposed to be his best friend could be dead, Miles showed little sign of being affected.

    ¡°Miles, are you okay,¡± Elena asked, extending her touch toward him.

    Miles slapped away her hand before it could reach him, then further added, ¡°In any case, there is little we can do. We are about to land on Dead God¡¯s Isle. Elena, please take Cordelia to bed.¡±

    ¡°Oh right, she¡¯s still snoozing.¡±

    Elena looked at the floor, site of the resting Cordelia. The sight of such a cute, innocent-looking girl in peaceful slumber made it easy to forget her tiredness was one born of battle. For the sake of those she deemed dear, Cordelia cast a spell of such magnitude, it wore out her frail body.

    Those known as the Marked were a special people. Not only were they cursed with a special birthmark, but a special energy known as Mana flowed through their blood. Said special energy, the same that powered elemental crystals, was generated at the moment of ingesting food, and was spent every time a Marked cast a spell. Unsurprisingly, such a large exhaust of a body¡¯s Mana reserves could result in tiredness in its owner.

    ¡°Wait, are you asking me to bridal carry her to her bedroom? Because if so, I am ready to ser¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hold on Miles,¡± Leila said, cutting Elena off. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay leaving her here? I am no expert on magic, but I¡¯m sure poor girl over here will wake up with a pit on her stomach.¡±

    ¡°I can confirm,¡± said Charles, backing up Leila¡¯s claim. ¡°Back in the palace, one of the ways we ensured our slaves wouldn¡¯t use magic against us was by carefully curating their meals. That way, even if one of them had some rebellious ideas, their hunger would nip them in the bud.¡±

    A silence followed his words, accompanied by intense stares in his direction.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I really wish the Sirens had taken you instead,¡± snarked Elena.

    Leila clapped. ¡°Anyway, back on-topic. Bronson was the only one who cooked in here, and he¡¯s gone. Meanwhile, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be received with a glorious banquet by the islanders. I say we take her with us.¡±

    ¡°Seems fair to me. I guess I¡¯ll have to carry her for a longer distance,¡± said Elena.

    ¡°I¡¯ll carry her myself,¡± chimed in Miles. He approached Cordelia¡¯s body and picked her up with no issue. ¡°You¡¯d probably drop her along the way.¡±

    A statement lacking in tact, but far from inaccurate. Elena¡¯s arm strength was not much better than in her old body. In some ways, it might even be worse. The sole reason Miles had tasked her with delivering Cordelia to bed was because he didn¡¯t want to intrude in his sister¡¯s room.

    With that matter settled, only one question remained in Elena¡¯s mind. ¡°What about Galen?¡±

    ¡°...I think it¡¯s better we let him have some time alone,¡± Leila said, closing her eyes. ¡°Losing the one you love dearest¡­ it¡¯s the kind of pain one can never recover from.¡±

    Exhaustion. Experience. Those were the words Elena associated with Leila¡¯s tone and facial language. It was evident to all who heard her that Leila was speaking not from a place of sympathy, but rather from empathy, from the place of someone who had felt the very pain she spoke of.

    For a moment, Elena felt compelled to inquire about what event had made Leila feel like that. But on second thought she realized it was out of place to pry into what was undoubtedly a touchy subject.

    Besides, with the ship soon to reach the nearby shore, she wanted to set her mind to the upcoming island adventure.

    <hr>

    A feeling of d¨¦j¨¤ vu was setting in. Elena and the others were standing on a beach not unlike the one they¡¯d just left, chilly winds striking their back and white sand tickling their feet. An enigmatic figure came to greet them, this time wearing a black robe.

    ¡°I have long awaited your arrival, o¡¯ chosen one.¡±

    Rubbing his wrinkly hands as he spoke, the man drew nearer, the details that comprised his face revealing themselves. A single, thick eyebrow served as roof for his threatening red eyes. His nose was elongated, with visible hair hanging from his nostrils. The shape of a black crow could be seen on his chin.

    Elena¡¯s eyes shifted to her side, where Miles was standing. ¡°Please tell me he meant you with that whole ¡®chosen one¡¯ bit,¡± she muttered to him

    ¡°To think these old bones would be blessed to see the day of your arrival, Dame Elena,¡± said the old man.

    She sighed.

    Bending knees so worn-down they appeared about to crack, the old man showed his respect toward a girl he¡¯d never before laid eyes on. Elena, for her part, met such a formal welcome with a roll of her eyes.

    ¡°His name is Malachi,¡± said Miles. ¡°He¡¯s the patriarch of this place, and a master of Dark Magic.¡°

    ¡°Ahh, the creepy old wizard in a robe trope. Should I be worried?¡±

    ¡°Filthy brat! This robe is an important relic given to me by¡ª¡± the man began to cough, realizing he¡¯d behaved improperly. He regained his composure, then said. ¡°I understand my appearance being a source of concern. But worry not, I harbor no ill will. I have made the appropriate accommodations for your comfort.¡± He paused. His head slowly raised, and he stared straight at Cordelia, who was being carried on Miles¡¯ shoulders. ¡°Albeit, I was not informed about that girl.¡±

    Elena furrowed her brow, feeling uneasy about the scornful way he referred to Cordelia.

    Miles, in contrast, maintained politeness. ¡°She¡¯s my sister. We managed to find her before meeting with the Queen. She¡¯s sleeping right now.¡±

    ¡°I see. Consider yourself lucky. The Lord has blessed her,¡± said Malachi.

    ¡°Blessed her? She was a slave!¡± Elena protested, shattering her performance of politeness. With a few words, Malachi had managed to turn on a fuse within her, causing some concerned looks from her comrades to be aimed her way.

    Malachi, for his part, only crackled again. ¡°Such insolent words,¡± he said. He didn¡¯t sound mad, instead speaking like a teacher giving a lecture. He continued, ¡°A girl in such dire conditions is most susceptible to death. For her to even be alive is a form of mercy from The Lord.¡±

    Not the worst example of logic stemming from a pious man she¡¯d heard, but it made her fist clench all the same. There was no color that could paint Cordelia¡¯s life as anything besides a nightmare. The kind of fate only monsters could inflict upon others.

    Elena decided to remain silent for the time being, but her opinion of Malachi only sunk further, and her opinion of this so-called Lord was not much higher.

    ¡°Your accommodations will suffice. One of our members is staying behind on the ship,¡± said Leila in reference to Galen, who remained in his room crying out his sorrow. ¡°And another¡­¡±

    Leila began to choke on her words. She cast her head down.

    ¡°The other was dragged into the sea by a Death Siren,¡± said Charles, finishing her sentence. It was clear the event didn¡¯t affect Charles as deeply, but he still spoke in a mournful manner.

    ¡°I see.¡± Malachi scratched his chin, then said, ¡°I must sincerely apologize. I tasked Ronalma to sing a song meant to prevent Death Sirens from roaming the seas. I suppose it was ineffective.¡± He let out a discrete laugh. ¡°I guess The Lord¡¯s arrival is truly coming soon.¡±

    ¡°Your excuses don¡¯t amount to jackshit, old man,¡± Elena said.

    ¡°Elena, please behave,¡± Charles said. His body was shivering in fear of what fate the loud-mouthed girl could get them into.

    ¡°I understand, Chosen One. So I hope it pleases you to hear that those who are taken captive by Death Sirens are said to awake on this shore about a week after being captured.¡±

    Everyone¡¯s eyes celebrated at learning that information.

    ¡°Of course, those are only theories, but all forms of hope are good. At least, that¡¯s what I believe.¡±

    As faint as it was, the possibility of Bronson being alive was enough to ease their worries for the time being.

    ¡°Now please, follow me. I shall lead you to the village.¡±

    <hr>

    The village was an uncanny painting, shaped by both color and black. The many houses had the size of huts, yet they looked like works of art rather than of necessity. Each roof featured gargoyles of different kinds of misshaped birds, with similar shapes carved into the black wood. Lavender and Marigold flowers adorned the sides of the road, the only splash of color on the gothic landscape. They were placed one next to the other with unnatural precision, the distance between every flower equal even when measured with a ruler.

    ¡°Somehow, the flowers only make me feel even more uneasy.¡±

    ¡°Probably because these flowers are artificial. No flowers grow in this place,¡± Miles explained, walking next to Elena. Charles, Leila, and Malachi followed right behind.

    ¡°Dang, you can tell just from looking at them? Impressive.¡±

    ¡°When you spend so long at sea, you learn to cherish every flower you see.¡±

    Elena hadn¡¯t considered that. It was only logical for Miles, who¡¯d been raised by nothing but endless images of sky and sea, to grow an appreciation for flowers and architecture.

    So adorable Elena thought. As she did every time pretty much every time she interacted with him.

    She was absentmindedly staring at him, savoring the sight of his adorably long nose. This distraction prevented her from noticing the obstacle before her.

    ¡°GAH!¡± she yelled as she bumped into a humanoid-shape, which caused her to fall backward to the ground.

    Her scream was one of surprise. It would be followed by a scream of terror.

    ¡°AHHHHHHHHHHH!¡±

    When she looked upward, the gray sky was the expected sight. Instead, her biggest fear appeared before her.

    A Kabeast. A Kabeast not unlike the ones that had torn her body apart limb by limb. Her eyes identified the shape as a Kabeast, despite their desire to look away.

    Her entire body tensed up. She didn¡¯t understand. Why? Was she about to die? She was meant to be safe. She was surrounded by her friends. Why was this demon breaking into her world at a time she was meant to be safe? It was unfair, it was¡ª

    ¡°Descansar. Criatura. Abortar.¡±

    Before her friends could brandish their weapons and cut the beast apart, the Kabeast crumbled into a pile of bones.

    ¡°Sorry for the scare! Children, I told you not to summon Kabeasts all willy-nilly!

    The one apologizing was a young woman with long brown hair. The bags beneath her eyes showed signs of lack of sleep. On her forehead, a black tattoo with the shape of a crow could be spotted.

    ¡°Let me introduce you all to Naomi¡° Malachi said. ¡°She looks after the village children.¡±

    ¡°You take care of all children here?¡± asked Elena, worried about the workload that implied.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the most glorious of jobs, but I do what I can to support the community,¡± said Naomi with a warm smile. A smile that then gave way to a threatening frown worthy of a devil, as she turned to face the nearby kids. ¡°Apologize to the Chosen One for your behavior!¡±

    ¡°We apologize, o¡¯ chosen one.¡± A choir composed of nine girls sang an apology, with a formality so uncanny it seemed drilled into the children. Many of them possessed similar Crow-shaped birthmarks, although in which part of the body it was differed for each girl.

    ¡°Why were you letting children summon those creepy things anyway?¡± asked Elena.

    ¡°Kabeasts are only dangerous at night,¡± Naomi explained. ¡°Our population is low, so we use Kabeasts to fulfill tasks we otherwise lack the manpower for.¡±

    ¡°Yeah! We needed an extra player, so we tried to summon a beast for our team.¡±

    ¡°Player?¡±

    Elena noticed that one of the girls was holding a round ball in their hands, about the size of an average ball in football. The girl attempted to excuse their behavior, but she only managed to piss off Naomi further.

    ¡°That¡¯s because you girls insist on ignoring poor Shiri!¡± she scolded them

    The girl in question was sitting by the shadow of a nearby tree. At the mention of her name, Shiri briefly glanced in Elena¡¯s direction. Her shy purple eyes appeared cursed, and the woe her overall expression portrayed only reinforced that impression. The white hair adorning her head made her appear sick.

    But perhaps most eye-catching were her arms¡ªor lack thereof.

    ¡°We can¡¯t play with her!¡± the girl with the ball complained. ¡°She doesn¡¯t have arms.¡±

    The girls began passing the ball among themselves, catching it with their hands as if demonstrating what separated them from Shiri.

    Elena, however, was not impressed.

    ¡°Using your hands with a ball shaped like that? Disgusting. Give me that!¡± She stepped forward and caught the ball in midair. She¡¯d already esteemed it to be so while watching it fly, but holding the ball in her hands only confirmed her calculations. The ball was also the same weight as a normal football ball.

    ¡°Probably better than the Jabulani, at least!¡±

    ¡°Jabuwhatnow?¡± asked Naomi.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You wouldn¡¯t get it.¡±

    Naomi tilted her head and furrowed her brow. Charles then chimed in. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You get used to her nonsense words eventually.¡±

    Elena approached Shiri. ¡°Come here,¡± she said, gesturing with her hands.

    The little girl simply stared up at Elena, not saying a word.

    ¡°Chosen One, this is a waste of our time. I must lead you to your place of stay,¡± said Malachi.

    ¡°Take everyone else, I¡¯ll catch up to you later,¡± Elena said. ¡°There is football to be played.¡±

    ¡°F¡ªfootball?¡± said everybody besides Elena, their voices in synch.

    ¡°Is that another of those ¡®nonsense words¡¯ you mentioned?¡± Naomi asked Charles.

    ¡°In effect,¡± he confirmed.

    Ah, I see what¡¯s happening.

    Elena smirked. This was her moment. The fact that everybody voiced their confusion, rather than just the residents of Dead God¡¯s Isle, showed that football as a concept did not exist.

    Most Isekai stories had the protagonist inventing Mayonnaise, or books, or some kind of technology.

    Her destiny? To invent The Beautiful Game.

    ¡°It is time to introduce these silly people to my superior culture¡ªwait, no, that sounds really bad now that I say it out loud. Ehem, it¡¯s time to colonize¡ªno wait, that sounds even worse. You know, a lot of Isekai is kinda uncomfortable when you stop and think about it¡­¡±

    At this point, everybody was staring at her with questioning looks. So, she cut to the chase. She let the ball fall to the ground, and lightly kicked it.

    ¡°We¡¯re gonna play using only our feet,¡± she said, giving a demonstration. One that ended with the ball slipping beyond her control, as despite her boisterous attitude, she was terrible at ball handling. ¡°Hence the name, ¡®football¡¯. Okay, I guess that¡¯s not actually why it¡¯s called that, but that¡¯s a story for another day.¡±

    Regardless, it impressed the girls. ¡°Your feet? Isn¡¯t that harder?¡±

    ¡°Yep. And that¡¯s precisely the point!¡±

    Elena continued explaining the rules, while Miles and the rest continued on their way to their place of stay.

    <hr>

    ¡°This is¡­ certainly luxurious,¡± Leila said.

    After months of sleeping at sea, it was a shock to their system to be treated to such extravagance. Despite not looking any different from the other houses, the walls on the inside were made of gold, and the floor was decorated with an exquisite red carpet. To their right, a metal table featuring all manners of fresh fruit. Acting as something of a lounge, there were two couches in the middle of the room, as well as a table with playing cards.

    ¡°Before his the decisive battle, our Lord left us with precise instructions on how to treat you upon the arrival of the Chosen One.¡±

    ¡°Is that a music machine?¡± Charles asked, pointing to a device positioned right before the farthest wall. It featured a glass compartment, with a Wind Crystal inside to power it.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°You are correct, Young Prince,¡± Malachi said.

    ¡°I thought you lot despised the Goddess¡¯ Craft?¡± explained Charles.

    ¡°Did you pick that up from a book?¡± Leila teased.

    Malachi cackled. ¡°We are forbidden from employing any device powered by those sacrilegious crystals. But we do make an exception for those found here, which are reserved for your use. You can also find a refrigerator with food.¡±

    Charles, who was silent but actively listening, then said, ¡°So you¡¯re saying that the Crow Lord himself prepared this house just for us? Am I really meant to believe that?¡±

    The Crow King. Humans in this world are born to fear the sound of that name. Entire histories are said to have met their end in the wake of his ambition and brutality.

    Thankfully, he had been killed 500 years ago. Following the War of the Barrier, a conflict that spanned generations, Goddess Mary defeated the forces of he who intended to engulf the world in Darkness. After the decisive battle, she spent her dying breath casting a barrier that surrounds the entire continent of Manposito to this very day. Those who stepped outside the confines of the Goddess¡¯ protection barrier were at risk of succumbing to the Crow King¡¯s latent dark aura, transforming all non-marked into cursed Kabeasts.

    The Hellwaves¡¯ Traveler was a unique ship possessing the ability to create a barrier not unlike that of the Goddess. It was this quality that allowed the Dead Sea Pirates to travel the cursed sea in a safe manner¡­ albeit at risk of the occasional attack from Kabeasts. The barrier''s blessings lasted about a week, permitting the crew to spend the night outside the ship, even in a land like this, beyond the reach of the Goddess.

    ¡°His orders have been passed down since the war. As his followers, we must abide by his word. So please, make yourself comfortable.¡±

    With that explanation, Malachi abandoned the hut-turned-hotel.

    As soon as the old man abandoned the building, Charles began to complain. ¡°You lot are crazy for coming here regularly! These people are followers of the Evil One!¡±

    ¡°Relax, princey boy,¡± said Leila, throwing herself into the nearest couch. ¡°That guy is dead and buried. Queen Imogen has restored relations with the people on this island. They have nothing to gain from attacking us.¡±

    ¡°And what exactly does Malachi have to gain by allying with Imogen anyway?¡± said Charles.

    ¡°Do I need to remind you of the aftermath of the war?¡± said Leila. ¡°You should know it better than any of us.¡±

    The war in question was not the War of the Barrier. Instead, Leila spoke of what has come to be known as the Border War. It was a conflict much smaller in scope, but that occurred within living memory. A territorial dispute that ended with the annexation of the southern regions of Eternasia, its length spanned a single year, yet saw a level of bloodshed unprecedented for a people used to peace.

    Generally, when people of the continent spoke of ¡°a war¡±, the Border War was what they meant. The fact that Malachi had said ¡°a war¡± to refer to an event that was by now ancient history was fairly unusual. It was a demonstration of how isolated this island truly was.

    ¡°Was Imogen really that desperate for allies?¡± said Charles.

    ¡°I mean, pretty much.¡± Leila crossed her legs. ¡°Where else is she gonna find people who hate Luzterna? In the Meritocracy? Yeah, right.¡±

    Leila snickered at the very idea. She was born in the Meritocracy of Efrener, northwest of the Old Kingdom of Eternasia. An empire that prided itself on rewarding those who worked their hardest and punishing those who were slothful. At least, that was the official line. Leila had always referred to it as ¡°a junkyard¡± ripe with misery of all kinds, and claimed she would never return there so long as she lived.

    More relevant to the conversation at hand, the Meritocracy had been aligned politically with Luzterna ever since the day of the Kingdom of Light¡¯s birth. During the Border War, Efrener had stayed neutral, but was said to sell weapons to Luzterna in secret. In the case of a full-scale conflict however, Efrener would certainly join the fighting proper, and Eternasia would be under attack on two borders. It was no surprise then that Imogen sought allies from beyond the Dead Sea.

    ¡°Listen kiddo,¡± Leila said to Charles, ¡°I¡¯m sure you still have some love for the land of your birth. But anyone outside of that shithole would celebrate if tomorrow it disappeared from the map.¡±

    Charles bit his lower lip, hurt by Leila¡¯s sharp tongue.

    Miles saw the direction the convo was headed, and cut it off by saying, ¡°Imogen also needs the sword that¡¯s sleeping in this place. I remind you both that tomorrow, we¡¯re going into the Sanctuary to search for it. So stop it with the squabbling and get some rest.¡±

    He lay Cordelia¡¯s body on the couch opposite Leila¡¯s. Then, he turned around and stepped toward the door.

    ¡°Wait there, young man! You order us to go to bed, then just sneak out?¡±

    ¡°I am going to train by the woods. Practice in solid land will be crucial in case we find any Kabeast in the Sanctuary.¡±

    ¡°Wait, Miles, I¡¯ll go with you!¡± said Charles with a puppylike expression. ¡°I need to train as well.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure your princely behind isn¡¯t tired?¡± Leila teased.

    ¡°I¡¯m more than fine. So much so, I am sure I will land a blow on Miles today!¡± He motioned with his hands to psyche himself up.

    Leila wasn¡¯t too convinced. She shifted her eyes toward Miles, and asked, ¡°Has he landed a blow on you before?¡±

    ¡°Not in any of the five sessions so far.¡±

    ¡°I got close one time!¡± he bellowed. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s a first time for everything. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    <hr>

    Their sparring blades clashed with intensity, the clanking steel awaking the moon from its slumber. Nearby trees danced to the beat of the cacophony of strikes, their steps guided by the blowing wind.

    As expected, Charles¡¯ swordplay remained nowhere near Miles¡¯. He remained too aggressive, too risky. Every blow Charles attempted seemed designed to be his last, putting the entire strength of his being into the dance of his blade.

    Such an approach to fighting may prove worthwhile when fighting against chumps, where a single stroke could mean victory. But in a drawn-out duel between powerful combatants, it was key for Charles to be flexible.

    Every time Charles went on the offensive, Miles repelled all his blows with quick flicks of his wrist. The inefficiency of his attacks only served to anger Charles further, meaning he spent even more energy with each attack, which caused him to tire quickly.

    With Charles panting heavily, all Miles had to do was tap him with his arm to knock the prince to the ground.

    ¡°URGH. You beat me again.¡±

    ¡°You defeated yourself. You wore your body down needlessly,¡± said Miles, extending an arm to help him get back up.

    ¡°But you kept parrying all my swings! How am I meant to break your defenses.¡±

    ¡°Patience. It is better to strike at the correct time once, than to attack senselessly a hundred times.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t waiting around just gonna get me killed?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Miles admitted.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound very reassuring!¡±

    Miles laughed at the boy¡¯s face of stress. He then added, ¡°But maybe dying is better than certainly dying, which is what happens to the reckless. Save your stamina for the appropriate moment. Else you¡¯ll end up tired and become dead meat.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± Charles took a sip out of a water bottle. ¡°I think that¡¯s enough for the night.¡±

    ¡°Wait, there¡¯s something else we need to do.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you remember why we let you join the crew?¡±

    A skill only those in the Royal Family possessed. The ability to carry out the Sword Dance of Light. Said to borrow the power of the Goddess herself, to perform such an ancient technique required the use of the rare and expensive Light Crystals. Only the Royal Family of Luzterna had easy access to a reserve of them. Thankfully, Charles had grabbed about a dozen before he abandoned the Royal Palace.

    ¡°I want to learn to wield the power of Light. It will come in handy for tomorrow¡¯s dungeon crawl,¡± said Miles.

    ¡°Are you sure you want to run down one of our precious few Light Crystals for the sake of training? Isn¡¯t it better to just rely on me in case things go awry.¡±

    ¡°I plan on learning sooner or later,¡± Miles replied. ¡°I want to master all five Elemental Sword arts like the Black Swordsman did.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see then how it is.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Miles tilted his head at Charles, who made a funny expression.

    ¡°You are trying to replace me! So that I will no longer be useful and you can kill me without any loss to your cause!¡± Charles pointed his finger while stomping his feet, like a cartoon.

    ¡°Negative,¡± Miles said. ¡°Stop being a buffoon. Teaching me was part of the deal for letting you join us.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just¡­¡±

    Charles¡¯ few remaining words lost their sound as they were leaving his mouth. He appeared to be stimming by repeatedly playing with his blonde, unkempt hair. His skin was so pale, the moonlight that illuminated him appeared crepuscular in comparison.

    ¡°Answer me, Miles. What leads a powerful man to yearn for further power?¡±

    The question befuddled Miles. Yet the green eyes of the young man who¡¯d raised the question stared at him with such childish sincerity, there was no other option. Miles possessed the answer to that question. For the only way that boy could entertain such questions in the first place was by observing Miles.

    ¡°You are already the strongest warrior in Manposito. You have mastered the Sword Dance of two elements, Fire and Wind¡ªa feat only the Black Swordsman has achieved in the past. And yet, you seek further power.¡±

    Miles now understood Charles¡¯ curiosity. And he answered it curtly. ¡°My father ordered me to be the strongest. That¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Really? That¡¯s all?¡±

    ¡°Yep. A sword has no desire of his own. All it can aspire is to be the sharpest.¡±

    Charles stared intently at Miles¡¯ golden eyes. A smile then grew on his face. Out of that mouth, a laugh began to seep out.

    ¡°Then I guess I cannot teach you.¡±

    Miles raised his eyebrows. ¡°What do you mean.¡±

    Charles drew his sword out of its scabbard, before slotting a Light Crystal in the handle. ¡°Light is life itself. It is the fuel of the soul.¡±

    Miles listened to Charles. The student had now become the instructor, his speech seasoned with a wisdom uncanny for the boy who, minutes before, was throwing tantrums like a petulant child.

    ¡°I was trained in the Sword Dance of Light by my older brother. I¡­ wanted to be like him so much. That was my path, my source of life.¡±

    Prince Johan of Luzterna, firstborn son, heir to the throne and brother to Charles. The Warrior Prince who met his end on a battlefield.

    Seeing grief build up on Charles¡¯ face, Miles said, ¡°I am sorry for your loss.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Charles said, vanquishing any hint of tears. ¡°After his death, I was aimless, and lost my ability to wield the light. I was so depressed, I could do nothing but sink my head into book after book. That was until I read one uplifting story of a Prince finding his own way after losing his kingdom. It was within those pages that I found a new will to live. I thought, maybe I too could forge a new path for myself.¡±

    A will to live. Did Miles possess such an abstract thing?

    For so long, his objective had been to find his sister. But with that accomplished, what remained?

    Only one image sprung to Miles¡¯ head. A girl with brown hair, whose very existence served to ignite Miles¡¯ heart.

    ¡°I know it sounds silly, to be inspired by something silly like a story. But you can¡¯t argue with results.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think of it as silly at all. In fact, I envy you,¡± Miles said.

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°I have nothing of the sort. Better a story than nothing at all, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Charles smiled, then tightened the grip on his blade. ¡°Goddess. It might be sacrilege for a sinner as myself to borrow your might, but please¡­ bless my sword with the power to vanquish evil!¡±

    In an instant, Charles¡¯ blade shone more intensely than a thousand suns. A power so awe-inspiring, it exceeded the eye¡¯s ability to process. It was Miles¡¯ soul what recognized the glow before him.

    Charles swung his arm, and a disk of light flew across the air. It had the width to hit multiple trees at the same time. Said trees were not hurt by the Light of Life. Instead, cherry blossoms bloomed within those branches, a beauty unseen in the drabness of the woods.

    Charles withdrew his sword, but not before removing the Crystal and handing it to Miles. ¡°I need to sleep, but if you want to keep practicing, let me leave you with your first lesson¡­ If you have anything that lights up your life, channel it into your blade.¡±

    With those words, Charles waved goodbye and began his gait back to the hut.

    Before leaving earshot of Miles, he said, ¡°Oh, by the way, Elena is hiding behind the bush over there.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I already know,¡± Miles replied.

    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡±

    Like a child found in hide-and-seek, Elena came out of hiding with slumped shoulders.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two,¡± Charles said, then made his exit.

    ¡°Spying on us again?¡± Miles said.

    ¡°Nonononono¡­ okay, yes.¡± Elena¡¯s index fingers kissed one another. ¡°So, light magic, huh? Pretty cool.¡±

    ¡°Not magic. I am channeling the Mana from the crystal into¡ª¡±

    ¡°So magic, then.¡± Elena pulled out her tongue and winked. She understood the difference between both concepts, she was just fooling around. ¡°You look pretty crestfallen for someone learning a new kickass technique.¡±

    ¡°You are using the word ¡®learning¡¯ very loosely. I doubt I can master Light.¡±

    ¡°Why? You are preeeety capable, if you ask me. Or if you ask anyone, really.¡±

    Miles let out a sigh. ¡°I am not infallible. I have tried to master Water before, but I simply couldn¡¯t put my mind to it.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°I am a sword before I am a man. All I know how to do is kill. I lack the empathy needed to¡ªGAH¡±

    Before he could finish expressing his sorrow, a round object impacted his chest¡ªa round ball, to be precise.

    ¡°Listen to Mr. Edgy the Hedgy over here. Give me a break. Here, let¡¯s play some football, that¡¯ll cheer you up!¡±

    ¡°Football?¡± Miles scratched his head at the unfamiliar word.

    ¡°A game that I just totally invented and copyrighted earlier with the island kids. Yep, my invention, no one else¡¯s. You play it by kicking the ball. Come on, pass it to me.¡±

    Miles stared at the ball, then at the girl who smiled widely at him.

    He didn¡¯t understand what was the point of it, but since Elena asked him to, he would comply. ¡°Ok, here I go.¡±

    He lightly tapped the ball with the side of his foot.

    It became a missile.

    The ball caught fire as it traveled, before colliding with Elena¡¯s face. It was unclear in the dark, but it appeared as if multiple teeth flew out in several directions. Elena fell to the ground face-up. The ball then soared vertically, before crashing back down; it bounced on Elena¡¯s head multiple times, each bounce accompanied by a groan of pain.

    ¡°Elena, I am so sorry. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t waste your time. I do not forgive you,¡± Elena said in a stentorian voice, still lying on the ground.

    ¡°What?¡± Miles exclaimed.

    ¡°You hurt me so badly, you think your words alone can earn you forgiveness.¡±

    ¡°I¡­I¡­¡±

    He was heartbroken. Her words held his heart in a grip. The light that illuminated the world seemed to vanish the longer time passed.

    He could not live. Not with the knowledge of having harmed her. Not without her grace.

    ¡°So, if redemption is what you want¡­ you shall pay by planting a kiss on these lips!¡± She brought a finger to her lips.

    ¡°W¡ªWhat? I am not doing that!¡± Miles hid his face, which had become painted red like a tomato.

    ¡°Te-hee. I¡¯m joking, I¡¯m fine.¡± She winked, before rising to her feet.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mess with me like that!¡± Miles said, crossing his arms.

    ¡°Sorry, sorry.¡± She tapped his shoulder. ¡°You just sounded so angsty, I thought it would do you some good to have some fun.¡± Elena¡¯s hands messed with the ball, likely a way to keep her hands busy while she considered what to say next. Eventually, she found the words she was seeking. ¡°That whole ¡®not having a will to live thing¡¯¡­ is that true?¡±

    The heavy shift in her tone rendered Miles speechless. Elena¡¯s eyes, which were a deep black, were counterintuitively beaming with light. Her hair danced to the sound of the wind. The moonlight brought out the beauty of her pale skin, resplendent like an angel.

    Witnessing the portrait of this beautiful girl staring at him with such tenderness, light began to flow inside Miles.

    ¡°Listen, I know things can be rough, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m fine,¡± Miles cut her off. He drew his blade, and slotted in the Light Crystal Charles had handed him.

    Miles, who was staring at Elena, physically closed his eyes. But the image they projected onto his mind was not erased, not in its entirety. The drab painting of a forest at night began a process of correction, carefully removing the traces of deep colors that signified the presence of darkness.

    Slowly, more and more light began to seep into that dry world. Light overtook the trees made of dark wood, light overtook the sky of dark clouds, light overtook the occasional crow sneaking into frame.

    The light of life sought to consume all that composed that world of Death the Crow King had built.

    And yet, Elena¡¯s frame remained.

    She stood against a background of light, the remains of that worthless world. In his mind, she was his light, the fuel of his soul.

    ¡°Goddess, lend your power to this humble blade!¡±

    Miles opened his eyes. But even before he did so, he could confirm his success. He could feel his sword glow with the power of the Goddess, a glow so mighty it threatened to overwhelm the horizon that hid far away.

    ¡°That¡¯s my Miles! I knew you could master¡ª¡±

    A power too fierce to control, a power too fierce to predict. To Elena¡¯s surprise, his sword produced a shockwave, knocking Miles backward. His back crashed with a nearby tree, causing an apple to fall on his head.

    ¡°¡ªit. Oh shit! Miles, are you ok!¡± She rushed to his side.

    ¡°No, I am not,¡± he said, resting on the ground. ¡°I¡­ I think I might die.¡±

    ¡°What? Are you serious?¡± Elena panicked. She had no way to imagine how disastrous failing to control the power of Light could be. She glanced in all directions. ¡°What am I supposed to do?¡±

    ¡°There is one thing you can do¡­ kiss me.¡±

    ¡°Like a True Love¡¯s Kiss? Ok, I will do anything¡­ wait a minute!¡±

    Elena¡¯s face froze once she realized she¡¯d been duped. Her pale cheeks began to blush,

    Miles laughed maniacally as he got up. ¡°We are even now.¡±

    She crossed her arms and pouted. ¡°Geese, you¡¯re mean. I was really concerned for you there.¡±

    ¡°So was I when you pulled your prank,¡± Miles retorted.

    ¡°But that wasn¡¯t as serious! Besides, you know I¡¯m always up to some tomfoolery, so you could¡¯ve predicted it. How was I supposed to expect you of all people to mess with me? You are not one for jokes¡±

    Miles smiled, with a warmth he hadn¡¯t felt in a long time. ¡°I am not normally the kind to crack jokes. You are correct.¡±

    Miles briefly paused his speech. He needed some time to properly choose the words he was about to say, for he needed words that spoke of the light that dwelled within his soul. If he failed to convey their meaning, then he¡¯d fail to convey to Elena his will to live.

    ¡°Thank you, Elena. When I¡¯m with you, I just feel more¡­human. I feel I can forget my worries, and simply breathe.¡±

    Miles inhaled deeply with his nose. Dead God¡¯s Isle may be a gloomy junkyard that reeked of death. But the air that entered his lungs was filled with life.

    ¡°I¡­ will go rest for tomorrow. Please do the same.¡±

    Elena remained frozen in awe, so much so she didn¡¯t reply at first. Eventually, she said, ¡°Yes. See you tomorrow.¡±

    <hr>

    Miles returned to the hut, his heart still dancing in remembrance of his time with Elena. Light bulbs powered by Fire Crystal provided light to the main lounge even at night. Five doors could be seen, one of which led to the room that was assigned to him. Miles¡¯ body had some stamina remaining, but he was still too tired to do anything but collapse into bed.

    At least, that was his plan.

    ¡°Lord Brother.¡±

    Right as he was about to open the door, a voice so faint it could pass for a whisper called for his attention.

    In his haste, Miles had overlooked his young sister sitting on one of the couches. She held a book in her hands, one he recognized.

    ¡°Oh, Cordelia, what are you doing this late at night?¡±

    He raised his question, despite possessing a hint of what the answer was. Cordelia¡¯s book once belonged to his mother. It wasn¡¯t a storybook, though; it contained a list of Water spells, some of which she would cast back when she was alive.

    She stood up. ¡°I was simply reading.¡± Cordelia¡¯s answer partly confirmed Miles¡¯ suspicions. But she was playing shy about the identity of the book itself.

    ¡°I see. Do you need me for anything?¡± Miles said. He carried himself with manners too formal for a regular brother-sister relationship.

    Cordelia stood up, and stared intently. Her lips quivered, as if they couldn¡¯t make way for the words that she wanted to say.

    ¡°If it is not too important, please talk to me tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Are you in love with Lady Elena?¡±

    Miles was astonished by the weight of that sudden question. He remained there, frozen, trying to process the situation. His quiet, demure little sister had enunciated her words with a fire able to ignite the sky. She wasn¡¯t a child asking a curious question, but a hawk planning their next move.

    ¡°Because I must let you know. Even if you are¡­ I don¡¯t plan to lose. Even if we have to fight to the death, I will not lose.¡±

    The girl faced Miles straight, a look so sharp it felt it could slice him in half. Miles, for his part, possessed a blade that definitely could slice her petite body in half. But that fact was irrelevant. Cordelia¡¯s resolve would not waver even before the strongest warrior on the planet.

    A passion so raw, so ferocious that even Miles felt tiny compared to it.

    ¡° You have nothing to worry about. I am not in love with Elena.¡±

    It was a lie. But a lie that brought a positive effect, an effect Miles hoped for. The murderous intensity of Cordelia¡¯s stare diminished, and the innocence he associated with her eyes returned.

    ¡°I see¡­ in that case have a good night¡¯s rest,¡± Cordelia said. Following a polite bow, she opened the door to her room.

    ¡°Wait a minute, Cordelia,¡± Miles called out.

    Cordelia halted her movements, and curiously stared at him.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re not just reading for pleasure¡¯s sake. I¡¯ve heard you sneaking into Mother¡¯s library, and taking a look at her books of spells. That¡¯s how you learned that powerful spell from last night, right?¡±

    Cordelia bit her lip in a discreet fashion, a rare display of emotions.

    ¡°I¡­ wanted to learn all I could about Mother. So that I could help Lady Elena.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Miles scratched his chin and closed his eyes. ¡°Then I have both a tip, as well as a request.¡±

    ¡°I do not comprehend,¡± Cordelia said.

    She did not comprehend, and neither did Miles. There was no reason for him to provide the information he was about to spill. He was only about to help his rival in the process.

    Perhaps his willingness to do so was an admission, a surrender.

    If there was to be a competition for Elena¡¯s feelings, he¡¯d rather not take part in it.

    ¡°Elena¡­ she¡¯s been suffering from recurring nightmares.¡±

    Cordelia opened her mouth wide. For the emotionless girl to express herself nonverbally, it meant what she¡¯d just heard had shocked her to her core.

    ¡°When I was a kid, I used to have nightmares too. But she used a spell to ease my suffering. Since I was asleep, I didn¡¯t know how the spell goes, but I¡¯m sure she wrote it down somewhere. So, my request is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    She was a clever girl. She did not need Miles to put the two-and-two together for her.

    By sharing this, Miles had helped Cordelia in the way she hoped for most. She¡¯d told Cordelia a memory of their mother she had no access to. At the same time, Cordelia could seek this spell and use it to help Elena¡ªgrowing closer to her in the process.

    ¡°I shall use Mother¡¯s knowledge for Lady Elena¡¯s sake.¡± She turned around to enter her room, before saying to Miles who was facing her back, ¡°Thank you for telling me this¡­Brother.¡±

    Miles was left alone in the lounge.

    ¡°I am just a blade, after all.¡±

    Miles spoke to nobody, except perhaps the right hand he was staring intensely at. In his view, his skin was made of steel.

    His were hands that killed. His were hands that killed women, women like Agnes, that girl he once loved. Or rather, that he claimed to love, just like how his father claimed to love his mother. If he truly did love her, then his hands would not have showered on her blood.

    So, in a way, he hadn¡¯t truly lied when he told his sister that he didn¡¯t love Elena. So long as he possessed hands able to kill her, he could not love her.

    ¡°My precious little sister¡­ I entrust her to you. Please make her happy.¡±

    He wept briefly, then wiped his tears away, banishing them. They would be the last tears he¡¯d ever devote to Elena. From the moment dawn arrived, his heart would course-correct and concern itself with only the goal entrusted to him by his father. To become the strongest.

    ¡ªAfter all, it would be most cruel for an inhuman blade like him to stand in the way of love.

 Act 2 Ch 6: Weakness

    Miles and Elena¡¯s little night hangout¡ª

    No, wait. There were some scenes I skipped in this story.

    My bad. What a failure of a narrator I am.

    Let¡¯s rewind, okay? Yes, let¡¯s go back about¡­ 6 hours or so.

    <hr>

    ¡ª6 Hours Before.

    ¡°GOOOOOOL!¡± Elena shouted at the top of her lungs, cheering for the girls playing before her.

    ¡°The chosen one is rooting for us!¡± cried out the girl who scored the goal.

    ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± responded one in the opposite team. ¡°The Chosen One said the same thing for our goal.¡±

    With rocks serving as posts, a match of football was taking place. And as the laws of football dictated, an argument soon ensued. Elena, being the only one to know the rules she¡¯d ¡°invented¡±, was by default stuck as the referee, meaning she had to intervene.

    ¡°Calm down girls, I¡¯m cheering for both teams equally. No fighting, okay?¡±

    All 10 girls nodded in agreement, treating her words as gospel. Real referees would die of envy at how religiously they followed her orders, resuming the match without any objections.

    Her job done, Elena returned to watching from the sidelines. At that moment, Naomi approached her. Now that the two were close, Elena took a better look at her features. Her hairstyle consisted of black, tousled braids that carried the impression of someone who cared about their appearance, but had no time to actually polish it. Her figure resembled an hourglass. Comparing their heights, Naomi stood about a head above her, yet the aura that emanated out of her was friendly and inviting.

    ¡°It seems your game is a real hit. It¡¯s been centuries since something new happened in this village,¡± Naomi said with a warm smile.

    ¡°It took a while to explain the rules. Especially the offside rule. But I¡¯m glad these girls are having fun. They certainly picked up the rules faster than I did! I needed my uncle to pretty much give me a university lecture to understand everything.¡±

    She was a woman into football. While far from an oddity, the sport in her world was associated much more with men. It was ironic, then, that she was teaching it to girls first.

    ¡°You know, now that I think about it¡­¡±

    Elena observed her surroundings. Plenty of grown women strolled by, some stopping to watch the football match, others clearly focusing their eyes on Elena. From a distance, she could spot women working the fields, helped by Kabeasts. But there was a suspicious lack of men among the passersby.

    ¡°There sure don¡¯t seem to be a lot of men around here.¡±

    ¡°Oh wow, you truly are ignorant, Chosen One,¡± Naomi said in a completely casual tone.

    ¡°Huh? Something else I don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°There have not been men in the village even since the end of the war besides Patriarch Malachi.¡±

    ¡°What? How does that even work? Where did these children come from, then?¡± asked Elena with a scowl, pondering the possible explanations her mind concocted, such as that of homosexual reproduction.

    ¡°We do not age. We do not die. The children you see have remained as such since the day of the Demon Lord.¡±

    Elena gasped, letting the implications of her words sink in. The land she was in was frozen in time, its residents not growing old. The girls playing before her were in an eternal childhood, undisturbed by the threat of adulthood. The one exception was a greasy old man, whose orders were law.

    That last detail made Elena¡¯s stomach turn in disgust.

    ¡°It is my job to look after the children. It is the reason for my existence. I have carried my duty for hundreds of years.¡±

    The strain in her voice was palpable. Such was the result of centuries without experiencing change.

    ¡°Unreal¡­hundreds of years taking care of the same children¡­my mom could barely handle ten! And a single child, at that.¡±

    Elena grinned widely in response to her own joke. Naomi laughed along without missing a beat.

    ¡°It¡¯s a thankless job, but what can I say? I¡¯ve grown fond of the little fellas. Sometimes I wanna stab every single one of them, but I resist. For the sake of the tribe.¡±

    She crossed her arms as she smiled proudly, observing the children she raised. Even just from her profile, Elena knew she and Naomi had built up a good rapport from their limited interactions.

    ¡°Naomi, you seem knowledgeable about all the lore of this island. What¡¯s the deal with the whole ¡®Chosen One¡¯ bit?¡± Elena asked.

    ¡°You do not know?¡±

    ¡°Are you calling me ignorant again?¡±

    ¡°I am not.¡± Naomi responded bluntly. ¡°I simply needed to assess your level of knowledge. I have no intention of offending you, Chosen One.¡±

    ¡°Well, you kinda did anyway!¡±

    Elena grimaced in a goofy manner and slapped Naomi¡¯s back. Naomi showed no response, however, her face dryly maintaining a cold expression.

    ¡°Unfortunately, I am forbidden from sharing such information,¡± spoke Naomi.

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    At the sound of Elena¡¯s question, Naomi slowly turned her head.

    ¡°The Patriarch has outlined what actions must be carried through to fulfill our Lord¡¯s desires. We must not diverge from his orders. Only once you come in contact with our Lord, will my conversation privileges be updated.¡±

    ¡°Your what?¡± Elena said, confused.

    ¡°Further discussion of this topic is disallowed.¡±

    Naomi brought her hand to her chest as her unblinking stare absorbed Elena, not elaborating any further. The shape of her pupils grew. The soul of the young woman Elena was talking to vanished, as Naomi appeared zombified, uttering her words with thoughtless, pious devotion.

    ¡°Umm, Okay, I understand. I think. Give me a way to contact this Lord of yours and then let¡¯s get back to this conversation, alright? Maybe a phone number or email address,¡± said Elena, in a joking manner.

    ¡°Impossible. It is the Lord who shall approach you,¡± Naomi said in monotone.

    ¡°May I ask when that shall be?¡±

    ¡°Further discussion of this topic is disallowed.¡±

    Elena was well and truly creeped out by now. Naomi showed no signs of being a threat, but the way her tone had become increasingly cold felt uncanny, like a switch had been flipped inside her brain.

    ¡°Oooookay, then,¡± blurted out Elena. Her eyes darted, seeking escape from the pressuring vortex that was Naomi¡¯s stabbing stare.

    They would find solace, as she caught wind of a familiar figure, spying on the two of them from afar while wrapping their body in a brown cloak. Upon their sights crossing, the onlooker raised their eyebrows, grimaced, then turned around to withdraw.

    ¡°So, ehem, would you mind watching the kids for a minute? It¡¯s your job, after all. I have¡­ something to do,¡± said Elena.

    Elena¡¯s words reached their target, and seemingly caused the switch inside Naomi to flip back. Her round brown eyes regained their color, their pupils shrinking in size. The woman clapped her hands, and with enthusiasm said, ¡°Of course, Chosen One. Anything to help you out. Albeit, I¡¯m not sure I got the right grasp on the rules.¡±

    ¡°Just ensure they don¡¯t kill each other. Be right back!¡±

    Elena began to run, but she still felt a tenseness permeate her shoulders.

    <hr>

    Elena gave chase. The cloak the person wore disguised their body beyond their face. To most, that alone would not suffice to assess their gender, as it was a face that sat at the edge between femininity and masculinity. But Elena, who recognized that face, not only knew it belonged to a man, but also knew the man¡¯s name, a name she yelled as she ran.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°Galen, get back here!¡±

    Hunter and prey inched ever closer, the distance between the two vanishing further with each passing second. Elena couldn¡¯t believe it, but there was truly someone in the Dead Sea Pirates less athletic than she was.

    Eventually, the chase came to an end, as the man wearing a hood halted his sprint completely. Reacting to that, Elena stopped as well.

    ¡°You decided to follow us after all? Are you feeling ¡ª¡±

    better, Elena wanted to say. But the answer she sought was delivered to her in a form most unusual.

    ¡ªIn the form of a punch.

    ¡°...¡±

    Elena caught Galen¡¯s fist. It was a slow, clunky hook. Were she to attempt to block a similar strike from most men, odds were her arm would fall out. But coming from a scrawny man like Galen, it lacked the force to defeat even a frail girl like Elena.

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Elena reproached, tightening the clutch she held over his fist.

    ¡°What I think I¡¯m doing¡­ What do YOU think you¡¯re doing?¡± responded Galen. ¡°Messing around with some random children, when Bronson might well be dead?¡±

    Elena bit her lips. Galen¡¯s bony arm began to shake. He cast his head down, tears falling like rain droplets.

    ¡°I spent hours in bed. Sulking. Trying to make sense of it all.¡± Galen raised his head, staring at Elena dead in the eyes. ¡°So how dare you! How dare you act so cheerful when I¡¯m in so much pain?¡±

    His voice audibly creaked. He attempted to disguise his grief by covering his words in a posh tone, but it was pointless. Each movement of his head scattered tears across the green grass.

    Elena stared in silence, full of desire to provide comfort but dry of words that could accomplish that.

    She knew anything she said would be in vain, yet against her better judgment she spoke all the same, ¡°Galen¡­ I know how you feel. A long time ago, I also lost someone I¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t! You have no idea how much I¡¯ve given up for him! My family, my lifestyle, even my path to nobility. I¡¯ve had to sleep in that nest of rats they call a ship. Clean underwear. Risk my life against Kabeasts!¡± His voice, swelling with rage, mellowed out into a contemplative sorrow. ¡°And I did all that for him. I am the biggest of fools.¡±

    Elena bit her molar. She truly had misspoken. Overestimated her ability to understand his feelings. She naively thought she could empathize with his dismay, since she too once had lost someone she loved.

    But in Bronson¡¯s name, Galen had sacrificed a lot. Elena, by contrast, never gave anything up for Mara¡¯s sake. When she had the chance to act on her supposed love, she chose to dwell in sloth instead, watching helplessly as she was robbed of her life by some lowlife.

    Her grief could not compare to his. She was unworthy, too full of sin, to share such a pain.

    ¡°Now he¡¯s gone. And I am powerless to do anything about it.¡±

    Two souls, joined together by their hands, joined together in their lack of power.

    Galen admitted to his powerlessness. From his body to his soul, Galen did not conceal the weak man he was. His entire persona radiated an aura of weakness. Within the realm of his eyes lay a man who had given up on making a difference, who¡¯d accepted his role and couldn¡¯t change it.

    ¡°Miles could¡¯ve saved him¡­ and yet he chose to save you. They¡¯re supposed to be best friends¡­ do you understand why I hate you? Ever since you appeared, our so-called captain only cares to get in your pants.¡±

    ¡°Galen.¡±

    ¡°No, you can¡¯t. You always have that pretty boy saving your ass. You don¡¯t know what suffering is!¡±

    ¡°Galen!¡±

    ¡°Nobody understands me. Especially not a slut like¡ª¡±

    ¡°Galen!¡±

    Her exclamation cut through the flow of toxicity Galen was spitting out. Elena¡¯s piercing black eyes radiated with the ire of a mother who¡¯d seen their child misbehave. So intense was her burning stare, Galen took a step back and withdrew his fist, else he would be set on fire.

    Following a moment of silence, Elena spoke carefully meditated words, ¡°You are right. Although I have suffered, I cannot understand how you feel.¡±

    A confession. Giving up everything for someone she loved was a challenge she could never rise up to. Elena, who deemed herself a weak, slothful person, saw a limit to how much of herself she could risk for others. Even risking her life for Cordelia¡¯s sake was only possible thanks to her ability to revive from death. Had her life truly been on the line, she couldn¡¯t say if her actions would have been the same.

    Galen grinned, taking her words as an affirmation of his views. ¡°At last, you admit it.¡±

    ¡°I also cannot promise to bring Bronson back. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s alive, and besides, I am too much of a lazy, pathetic woman to perform such heroics anyway.¡± Elena swallowed saliva, then added, ¡°But I can promise one thing.¡±

    Galen, who at this point watched with crossed arms, said, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll put my all into bringing you two back together.¡±

    Elena put the entire strength of her chest into her declaration. There was no sense of irony, no jokes to deflect the seriousness of the moment. She didn¡¯t stammer, nor show any signs of ulterior motives. She was vowing to put her entire being into their cause, to not rest until the two were together or her soul was shattered.

    ¡°Is that supposed to make me feel better? The pledge of a self-admitted powerless girl?¡± Galen remarked.

    ¡°Nothing I say could ever erase your sorrow. I am not so conceited as to believe I am capable of doing such a thing.¡± Elena raised her chin high. ¡°But promising to do my best¡­ that¡¯s gotta count for something, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    Her little resolution failed to cheer Galen up. If anything, her words and deeds had the opposite effect on him, as he turned around and left with a scornful look.

    ¡°Hmmph!¡±

    But that didn¡¯t matter. In truth, she was mostly speaking to herself. She needed a wind to push her forward, a reason to fight.

    She couldn¡¯t fault Galen for not believing in her¡ªbut she¡¯d make him believe in her. No matter the cost.

    <hr>

    ¡ª4 Hours Later.

    Miles and Elena¡¯s little night hangout came to an end. Accompanied only by the starry sky and the weaving trees, Elena let the smell of the nearby forest fill her nostrils.

    ¡°It smells like shit,¡± she stated. Perhaps a bear took a dump nearby.

    Then again, do bears shit on the woods in this world? Or in this island, for that matter?

    Such pertinent questions would need to wait for an answer, as the time for jokes had passed. Elena slapped her cheeks, and said, ¡°Okay Elena, concentrate.¡±

    Ignoring the odor, Elena began her stroll across the forest. She had no destination, but she did have a goal.

    Find Bronson.

    Making such an effort was likely a waste of time. Her finding even a hint of Bronson would prove a miracle. Perhaps the sagacious move was to rest well for tomorrow¡¯s dungeon crawl.

    But a promise was unbreakable. Because Elena had promised to give her all, she could not allow herself to waste away in bed. Any ounce of energy remaining in her must be spent on fulfilling that promise. To act otherwise would be an act of hypocrisy, an admittance of the weakness of her character.

    The howls of wolves could be heard. The shapes of bats invaded the sky. Elena gulped, understanding the dangers she was daring.

    ¡°Worst thing that can happen is I die,¡± she said to encourage herself. Only to one with a power like hers could those words bring relief. And even then, they only relieved her for a brief moment. Those previous deaths had left scars within Elena, albeit not physical ones. So the idea of undergoing such trauma again proved enough to send shivers down her spine.

    ¡°GAH!¡± Suddenly, she turned around, catching whispers of bushes, informing her she wasn¡¯t alone. ¡°Who¡¯s there? In the bushes.¡±

    Nobody answered. Elena gripped her upper arm, trying to collect herself. Surely, it was just her imagination.

    Then, the rustling intensified.

    No figure came out of hiding, no threat made itself present. All the same, new images presented themselves before Elena.

    Albeit calling them ¡°new¡± was perhaps a misnomer. Elena¡¯s eyes closed to blink, and when they opened back up, familiar landscapes rushed to her mind, ones that lived in her nightmares.

    Her sight wasn¡¯t her only sense affected. Being impaled. Burnt alive. Drowning. Those were the sensations that accompanied those gruesome images.

    Her breath began to falter. Her arms and legs were on the verge of collapse. She could feel her brain overcharge with dread.

    No threat made itself present, no. But even the possibility of danger proved enough for her to experience her nightmares while awake.

    ¡°I¡¯m an idiot, what am I doing¡­ I need to get back to Miles!¡±

    In her panic, Elena¡¯s ideals perished. Her will to keep her vow, to truly push herself, was squandered. In the face of death, something as unimportant as a promise was irrelevant.

    ¡°Deses¡ª. Abs¡ª. Des¡ª.¡±

    Blending in with the wind blowing her back was a faint yet adenoidal voice. She could make out some words that seemed Spanish, but their sound was too subdued to affirm what they were with efficacy.

    It didn¡¯t help that her mind was too occupied with running forward.

    It didn¡¯t help that her mind was too occupied with not tripping over any branches on the ground.

    It didn¡¯t help that her mind was too occupied with what she would tell Miles upon seeing him again.

    It didn¡¯t help that her mind was too occupied with figuring out what day it was.

    It didn¡¯t help that her mind was too occupied remembering who she was.

    It didn¡¯t help that her mind was too occupied with trying to remain sane.

    It didn¡¯t help that her mind was too occupied.

    It didn¡¯t help.

    It.

    <hr>

    As ever, Elena awoke.

    As unlike ever before, Elena awoke.

    She had no headache, no lingering pain, no desire to cry like a newborn baby. Such reactions were only befitting of souls who returned from the dark void, whose senses used to death were suddenly confronted with the light of life.

    And Elena was not such a soul.

    ¡°What is this place?¡±

    Her surroundings differed from those she saw while living. A void of darkness surrounded her. The only color that shattered the black infinity was a red carpet lying beneath her feet. Following its trail led to a small staircase. Atop its steps, there was a tall coffin, surrounded by eight pillars. Each had a chain of a different color attached.

    Their purpose? To act as shackles for the man lying in the coffin.

    The powerful, fearsome, and, if you ask me, really handsome man who was now calling for Elena.

    ¡°At long last¡­ we meet face-to-face,¡± I said.

    Seeing a face so finely crafted and a body as ripped as mine must have come as a shock to her system after so much time gushing over that mediocre rogue. Mesmerized by my beauty, she was left wordless, staring up at me with tender eyes.

    ¡°No need to be afraid. As a wise woman once said, the worst thing I can do is kill you, right? And guess what? You¡¯re already dead. Even I can¡¯t kill what¡¯s already dead.¡±

    I was joking before. I am not a fool, I could read her body language. The hesitance in her steps and the way she bit her lips revealed she was afraid of me. An understandable reaction, but one I hope to surgically remove from her.

    It was a reaction improper to the woman I love, after all.

    ¡°Where am I?¡±

    ¡°Always straight to the point with your questions. I like that about you, Elena,¡± I said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. ¡°But to put it bluntly, you are¡­ in my domain.¡±

    Elena furrowed her brow. ¡°Your domain? And you are?¡±

    ¡°Who am I?¡± I briefly cackled, before earnestly answering, ¡°I go by many names. Demon Lord is my personal favorite, but because it¡¯s you, you can call me¡­ Ernest.¡±

 Act 2 Ch 7: Propiedad Privada

    She stared blankly at me.

    Oh, how my heart jumped. At last, I got to experience those eyes through my own. No more of that putrid world that surrounded her; all my attention was on her and her alone.

    Having her before me was like watching a movie whose image had been upscaled. Her slender legs, shaking as a result of my frightening presence, appeared slimmer, more alluring. The pink in her lips that made the prospect of a kiss simply irresistible. The perfection of her hair, a work of nature achieved through no effort.

    But oh, how brutish of me, wasting so many words lecturing about something as trifling as her body¡ª a body that wasn¡¯t even hers. The trepidation her timid steps revealed was far more exciting. Her head kept turning in all directions, her feeble mind still unable to accept that there was nothing to the left, nothing to the right, nothing past me.

    ¡ªAll that existed in this realm were two, intertwined souls.

    Now that Elena had stepped foot in my domain, the curtain began to draw on the real tale. A tale of cat and mouse, of prey and predator, where I, the all mighty¡ª

    ¡°So, you are the Crow King I heard about?¡±

    As I heard her question, I felt my throat tighten. The grin I wore so proudly abruptly faded.

    ¡°I thought it was just that old geezer who called me that,¡± I muttered involuntarily as I facepalmed.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I suppose that¡¯s me. The Crow King,¡± I said, rolling my eyes. ¡°That¡¯s what those idiots of Manposito decided to call me. But as I said before, please call me Ernest. Calling people by their name is the proper thing to do, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t going to admit before her how embarrassing I found that title. Like, I get it. I do have a Crow-shaped Mark on my chest, and the previous God of Death was a literal crow. So it¡¯s fitting, to an extent. But that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t resent it. A man has feelings, after all.

    ¡°Umm, sure,¡± Elena said. ¡°So, ¡®Ernest¡¯, what¡¯s with the chains?¡±

    ¡°Oh, these stupid things. They¡¯re here to keep me bound.¡±

    8 pillars surrounded my coffin. 6 of them had a corresponding chain, that went over the coffin and were attached to its opposite side.

    What happened to the other two chains, you ask? That¡¯s a secret.

    ¡°Trapped? Are you unable to move?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much. Believe me, it used to be even worse. Before I had no option but to stare at the ceiling. Well, not the ceiling, because there¡¯s no ceiling, but you know what I mean. Nowadays I can at least flex the top of my body and flail my arms around.¡±

    Demonstrating exactly that, I exposed my chest to her sight. I flexed my biceps, bringing attention to my large, muscular arms.

    A real shame the chains prevent me from showing her something¡­ even bigger, but alas.

    Elena crossed her arms, apparently not impressed by my display. She then said, ¡°So you¡¯re just stuck there?¡±

    ¡°Yep. For over four-hundred years. Suuuuper dull. But at least now I have you for some company.¡±

    I reached out with the tip of my finger for her forehead. Oh, how I wish my finger could morph into a brush. With red paint¡ªno, with blood from my veins, I yearn to mark an X on her skin, denoting what¡¯s my property.

    Elena quickly stepped backward, avoiding my touch with disgust on her face.

    In hindsight, such a reaction was expected¡ªand what I desired.

    She was the kind of woman not to be vanquished easily. Not because she possessed the power to resist. But rather out of a misguided sense of pride. Due to those naive convictions instilled upon her by her mother, Elena believed there was sense in resisting, that there was a point in not giving up.

    How daring, how provocative. It made my heart beat with agitation, leap with anticipation.

    ¡ªFor I knew the moment she gave in to despair, her fall would taste all the sweeter.

    ¡°My apologies. As you might surmise, I¡¯ve been quite starved for human touch.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not my problem, buddy,¡± she said.

    ¡°You speak far too casually for someone standing before a god who presides over death,¡± I said.

    ¡°Over death? Are you the Death God the island is named after?¡± Elena asked with a hand on her hip.

    ¡°Ahh, I see you fell for a common misconception. The island is named after my predecessor. Notice how it¡¯s called the Dead God¡¯s Isle. Not the Death God¡¯s Isle. There¡¯s a difference. Even experienced cartographers make that mistake.¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°There was a God of Death before you?¡±

    I chuckled. ¡°A foolish bird who believed itself above death. My hands, lustful for power, tore it apart limb by limb. The notions the creature held about life and death were torn asunder, and for the first time of its pathetic existence, experienced the full truth of death, a truth even Gods cannot escape.¡±

    But alas, that¡¯s a story for another time. How could a man dedicate words to such a boring tale, when a fair maiden struck him with a look possessive of such innocence?

    The way she scratched her chin spoke to her lack of understanding. Her eyes widened as I spoke, naive to the true rules that reigned this world. A feeble-minded creature, who all she could do was aim her childish sight upward, at a superior being who spoke with authority.

    Her words may deny it, but her body language conveyed what Elena truly was.

    A powerless, spineless woman.

    One that belonged to me.

    ¡°But don¡¯t wreck your puny mind trying to make sense of anything I just said.¡± I placed my hands behind my head. ¡°Just make yourself comfortable. We are here forever, after all.¡±

    ¡°Forever?¡± Elena repeated, like a parrot. ¡°Umm, no thanks. I have people waiting for me.¡±

    Vomit-inducing, how persistent she could be. I needed to shut her down. ¡°Death is permanent. And you¡¯re dead. So¡­grieve yourself. Don¡¯t take too long, there¡¯s seven stages to go through!¡±

    ¡°I died again? I don¡¯t even remember. I was in the woods, I began running, and then my mind went blank.¡±

    ¡°You got hit by a Ball of Darkness and Destruuuuuuction,¡± I said, breaking into song. ¡°A common attack used by the islanders. It¡¯s probably a spell with a name, but I¡¯d rather call it the Ball of Darkness and Destruuuuuuction. It messes with your soul. Then kills you. Not sure who launched it, though.¡±

    Elena witnessed my blabbering with wonder. ¡°So, you know how I died.¡± She paused, then bit her lower lip. ¡°Then surely, you also know that¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, that little power of yours. I¡¯m well aware.¡± I interrupted. ¡°I gave it to you in the first place. Don¡¯t try to Deathplain me.¡±

    My comments were brimming with irony, mockingly playing on a term women like Elena liked to use. All the same, Elena¡¯s eyes were filled with understanding, her eyebrows spiking upward.

    ¡°You gave my power to me?¡±

    ¡°Slow on the uptake? Or do you just get a kick out of parroting things you hear? Seriously, you do that a lot. Anyway, yes, I did. Consider it a gift born from the goodness of my heart.¡±

    My words made Elena¡¯s entire body quake. Whatever emotions were flowing through her, they were powerful enough to stun her.

    Noticing her silence, I commented, ¡°Now, I¡¯m sure you have a bunch of questions on your mind. Like what your power is called and what its limitations are.¡±

    Wide-eyed, Elena listened to me.

    I closed my eyes, and with a cocky grin and a casual tone, said, ¡°I haven¡¯t actually thought of a name for it, but seeing how this world loves its Spanish spells, how about Revivir post-Muerte. Sounds spooky enough, and is actually grammatically correct for once.¡±

    ¡°Why¡­¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± I glanced her way.

    What a fool I was.

    In my narcissistic desire to hear my own voice, I¡¯d neglected to properly observe her reaction, working entirely off my assumptions on what her response would be.

    ¡°Why¡­¡±

    I thought I¡¯d have to satisfy her curiosity. Instead, it was me who feasted on her anguish.

    ¡°Why¡­¡±

    This scenario proved to be far more appetizing.

    ¡°Why¡­¡±

    Elena simply raised her question with the weight and repetitiveness of the beat of a drum. Tears overwhelmed her eyes. The way she stared conveyed such frailness, such weakness, that her words from before her death, that claimed she¡¯d try her best, felt downright comedic.

    ¡°Why do you keep me alive? What do you see in me?¡±

    More than a question, it was a lamb¡¯s screech, a wail.

    Within this realm our minds were no longer linked, and yet I could still see every picture her eyes were seeing. Every death, every moment of suffering her soul had endured. To carry that weight, to carry death as a memory, was a burden she and she alone had to face. A soul who knew death was an affront to nature, a perversion of the very concept of life and death. By gifting her with Revivir post-Muerte, I have cursed her to be such an existence, a monster who shattered the very foundations of the world. Death may be scary, but most would choose it before living that.

    So why did I give her that power? Well, the answer is very simple. Because¡ª

    ¡°Why all this? Why can¡¯t you just bring me back home? Cancel my death! Return me to my mother!¡±

    Oh, Elena. How you pleasure me.

    Even when I can read your thoughts. Even when I think I have you all figured out, you always seem to find a new venue for my curiosity.

    I was blind. I neglected to consider the impact of her life on Earth on her current self.

    Elena was a woman whose death was the result of her sins. Her punishment was to live in a jail built out of guilt. Every second she remained alive was a second she spent in regret, thinking back to the world she failed to change, to the mother she left behind.

    As the man responsible for keeping her alive, I was, in a way, also to blame for her sorrow.

    How¡­convenient.

    I reached out my hand. The same body that had once rejected my touch now surrendered, letting me grab her chin with no resistance. I raised her head, aiming her eyes at mine. I intensified my gaze, hoping to penetrate her entire soul.

    ¡°I want you to be¡­ mine.¡±

    Did that explanation suffice? Probably not. But it would have to do. There were no words that were worthy of condensing the extent of my feelings.

    ¡°I think you¡¯re¡­interesting.¡±

    But if words proved unworthy, then I pray the deep stare of my eyes proves enough to stamp my love in her heart.

    ¡°...¡±

    Ah yes, that word. On second thought, maybe there a word of such magnitude did exist after all.

    I desire to make a woman mine. I want to see her submit to adversity, to fall so deep into darkness that her only escape is to devote the entirety of her being to me. But it can¡¯t be any, run-of-the-mill whore littering the city streets. It has to be a woman who resents everything I stand for. A woman of conviction, who when driven to despair has no choice but to throw those convictions by the wayside. A woman who rebels, only to be crushed by the injustices that plague the world.

    To yearn for someone so intensely, you are even willing to risk the depths of death itself¡ª

    ¡°I love you.¡±

    ¡ªWhat is that, if not love?