by J. J. Pavlov
"Now isn't the best time." Kamii comments in a neutral tone as if making a point to show that she doesn't care about their motivations for contemplating a suicidal advance through this trap-filled corridor.
The other six undead are coming toward them, and they seem to miraculously avoid activating any more blade traps. Three of them are men wearing chain coifs, so a sword won't be able to decapitate them as easily as it did the one they met earlier.
Gram rams his shield into the first that reaches him, sending the undead woman staggering back toward the two directly behind her. Sigurd then shoots a crossbow bolt into her knee, causing the joint to lock up. She stumbles and falls, tripping up the other two right after her. But they soon get back up and continue toward them.
"Switch with me!" Rolan commands, telling the bard to move to the back while he takes the front alongside Gram. However, in the cramped corridor, he can't get past Leif and Vigdis quickly, who each carries a bulky backpack as well.
"Should I use fire?" Seeing that the onslaught of enemies won't be stopped by conventional weapons so easily, Leif asks. He knows that using his magic in a confined space is a double-edged blade. If it gets out of control, all of them could get hurt or worse.
"No, I will use water!" Vigdis doesn't possess many forms of attacks, but she still bravely lifts her staff and announces. But before she can start an incantation, Kamii pats her shoulder and drops her backpack on the ground carelessly.
"Huh? Kamii?!" Gram notices too late and is unable to hold her back, as the little dark elf runs past him.
She comes up to the undead woman and swings her cursed arm against her chest plate. It causes her to stagger back a step, but nothing more. However, Kamii doesn't let up and hits the enemy again. This time, she stumbles backward several steps.
The third hit has enough force of impact to make her fall onto her back. Then the cursed arm crashes down on the chest plate four more times until the fourth hit caves it in. Kamii's eighth swing is aimed at the helmeted head, crushing it as well as the skull underneath almost effortlessly.
"Wha-" Gram's voice starts behind her, but somebody pulls her back by her left arm just in time before the next undead can get her into his grasping hands. The one that saved her from that fate is Rolan, who managed to squeeze his way past the two mages to reach the front.
"... how did you do that?" The leader asks the little dark elf in astonishment and looks at her crab arm.
"My curse." She explains curtly and shakes off his hand that's still clutching her upper arm.
"That is an incredible power." The big man comments while staring at the blood dripping from her pincer.
"I am loath to interrupt your expressions of awe, but the undead approach." Sigurd comments as he puts on another bolt and aims.
"Let me take care of them." Rolan announces and puts his hand on the hilt of Roshanee, but Gram grabs his arm to hold him back.
"Don't. We can handle this." He stares into the leader's eyes intently, as if silently pleading that the latter listens to him.
"If you don't have the will to act, I'll do it." Kamii states in a matter of fact tone and motions to walk past them again, but Rolan shakes off Gram's grip just like she did his earlier.
He steps past her and draws his enchanted sword. Its blade glows in a brilliant white, like the sun during high noon. Everybody's eyes are drawn to it in fascination, even though its brightness sears itself into their retinas. Leaving behind a streak of light when it's swung through the darkness, it cleaves through the armored torso of the undead at the very front as if moving through thin air.
In a dance of death, Roshanee cuts through chain and plate armor as if they don't exist. The instant the third enemy's head separates from his shoulders, Rolan sheathes the sword and falls back behind Gram. Kamii wonders why he stopped but then notices that his face is strained from exhaustion and his arms are shaking. Despite possessing a brilliant light, the sword is more like a cursed blade rather than a holy one; it seems to drain the wielder of energy when outside its sheath.
"This weapon has incredible power, but I'm not yet worthy to wield it." He notices her gaze and turns to give her a tired smile. His breathing is rugged, and beads of sweat are glistening on his forehead. "I can only use it for a short time and will be really tired afterward."
"Then it's my turn again." Kamii states with a determined gaze and passes them by before anybody can hold her back. Only two enemies are left, one lacking an arm while the other wields a shield. The latter is more challenging to handle, but neither can be considered dangerous.
Once again, she swings her cursed arm repeatedly, not letting the undead retaliate. The first attack is weak once more and doesn't even stagger the enemy, but every subsequent hit seems to double the weight of the impact like it did before. That means her cursed ability resets the force of her attacks after a while of not hitting anything. She knew that there was such a power in her, but this is the first time she properly takes note of it. After all, there weren't many opportunities to try it out while she was a slave.
On the fifth hit, the undead is sent flying against a wall, and on the sixth, its head cracks and splatters into many pieces. The instant that happens, she runs toward the last one and delivers a back-handed strike. However, the force behind her arm has disappeared again, and she bounces off the deflector at the center of the shield, which was raised unexpectedly quickly for a seemingly mindless undead.
Her eyes widen in surprise when he raises his sword, understanding that she can't avoid it now that she has been brought off-center. But that's when an arrow hits the enemy's shoulder, causing it to barely veer off target. Hreidunn just saved her life.
Gram charges the undead with his shield, sending him tumbling backward. A clicking sound announces the activation of a trap, and sparks fly; a spinning sawblade emerges diagonally from the wall and scrapes against the big man's shield. It doesn't cut through the thick metal, but the impact is enough to send even him flying.
Luckily, the blade moves toward the one that activated it instead of toward the group into which Gram just barreled. It shaves off the top half of the undead man's head as well as his shoulder before disappearing back into the wall. With the seat of his spirit gone, the unholy magic keeping the body alive dissipates, and he collapses to the ground, a normal corpse again.
With this, no more enemies remain standing. Everybody sighs a breath of relief and quietly congratulates the members that did all the work. Even though she expects it, nobody mentions Kamii's mistake that nearly cost her life. They instead praise her combat abilities and wonder about her cursed arm. Suppressing the urge to smile, the little dark elf silently enjoys the warm atmosphere. But then she glances across the group members' faces and feels that something is missing.
"Let's continue." She cuts the celebrations short. Her mood soured when she realized that the feeling stems from the fact that Mahkotoh isn't here. Over the past two moons, she has gotten used to her absence, but being in a dark tunnel after narrowly avoiding a life-threatening situation alongside Rolan and his party reminded her of their journey through Rathgolim.
"Alright. Back into formation." Rolan announces, sensing Kamii's emotions and thinking it best to occupy her mind with something else again. "I trust your judgment, Sigurd."
"Leave it to me." The bard nods and takes point alongside Gram again.
Chapter 63 - The Great Deceiver
"I thought we were already on a culinary tour through the sultanate, but this food here is even more amazing than anything else I've had so far." I say after swallowing another bite from the grilled cheese and washing it down with a considerable amount of cinnamon wine.
"I have to agree, Chloe." Hestia asserts, leaning against me during the meal. "There are so many flavors to discover here."
"In more ways than one." Asoko adds, caressing the cheek of a girl in her arms with a smile. While I've been gorging myself on food for the most part of however long we've been here, she has been eatin
g women left and right. The throne room is filled with naked bodies in various stages of undress, dishevelment, and exhaustion.
"Why do we not join her?" The angel girl asks and nudges me with a lovely expression, and I suppress the urge to jump her right away. But I have no answer to her question, only a nagging feeling in the back of my head that prohibits me from engaging in carnal pleasures. Even though this city is a paradise where reason holds no sway, something still holds me back.
"I'm fine eating for now." Replying with an obvious deflection of the topic, I reach out with my right hand to pick up the last chicken leg while raising my left hand to order another serving of everything.
"Hey, why do you still have those?" Suddenly, Asoko points at me and asks. Even now, I haven't taken off my red cloak although it's quite filthy and frayed in many places. But she's referring to my bare forearm, from which the sleeve slid down when I raised it. "Can't you just make them disappear?"
In particular, she's pointing at the scars on my skin. They're small grooves, lined up to form the most basic system to count something. For a moment, I wonder how they got there, but then remember that I was the one who carved them in myself. The reason eludes me right now, though.
"Wake up!" A voice echoes in my head, and I turn around in surprise.
"Did you say something?" It sounded like Asoko's voice - or my own.
"I was wondering why you didn't make them disappear. We can heal from such things easily, no?" Repeating herself with a slightly concerned expression, my other half asks again. She's wondering what's wrong with me, but so am I.
"I guess so, yeah." Shrugging, the thought to erase the scars on my arm begins to form in my head, when the door to the throne room suddenly opens. It's Al-Majnun, still in his jester outfit and mask, accompanied by a group of men and women wearing far less. Many are carrying trays filled with more food, others clearly fulfill a role that would satisfy Asoko's appetite better. "Oh, right on time!"
"Come here!" The other me that formed out of my severed lower half exhibits the exact kind of lusty behavior one would expect from a being with such an origin. She beckons over all the newcomer girls and women but explicitly waves off the men. At least in that department, she's the same as me.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Kuroe?" The Great Deceiver asks me, wearing the smiling jester mask as an expression of his mood.
"Oh, yes, I am." Asoko answers. Then she turns her head to realize that Aj-Majnun is leaning over the couch I'm sitting on and addressing me.
"Yes. The food is great." I quickly reply to bridge the awkward moment.
"That's good to hear." The jester tilts his head and speaks in a tone a parent would employ while talking to their child. Then his mask changes to a neutral one, as he rounds the couch and gestures at my other half. "But why don't you partake in those pleasures?"
"I don't feel like it." I avoid looking in his face and glance at Hestia instead. Something is holding me back, even though she asked for it many times after continuously watching somebody looking exactly like me making love to others; to her, it must have felt like torture even if she knows that it's not me doing it.
"I can understand that you wish to remain faithful to your one true love." Al-Majnun turns his head to look at the fallen angel, who blushes under his hollow gaze. "But even her you haven't touched once so far."
"Something just doesn't feel right." I shake my head and lower my gaze.
"Is it the locale? There are private rooms." He offers with a finger pointing up.
"Come on, Chloe. Let's go." Hestia whispers into my ear and entwines her fingers with mine. It causes a shudder to run down my spine from feeling the excitement rising. But even though it's been so long since our last time, my mind seems to be preoccupied with something else.
"Maybe it has something to do with those scars?" Asoko suggests, and I look down at myself. All in all, there are more than forty lines, though I can't for the life of me remember what I was counting. However, I have a body that can heal any wounds, so there must be an important reason that I went out of my way to keep those.
"Why not remove them? You may feel liberated then." Al-Majnun leans in on me and speaks in a very persuasive tone, his voice echoing through my head.
"Don't you dare!" My own voice echoes back, and I spin my head around to stare at my other half across from me. But she's busy with a new girl, so it couldn't have come from her.
"Guess I'm just tired." Shaking my head, I look down at my scars once more.
"You haven't slept ever since the festivities began. Heal your scars and rest your mind." The enticing voice of the Great Deceiver reaches my ears, but by the time he finishes his sentence, my thoughts have already become sluggish.
"Yeah, that sounds good." Now even my voice feels distant, as I lift my arm to erase the scars with a simple thought. My body is just that convenient.
"I don't think so!" Roaring this, I rip my face open from the inside. The halves of my split torso fall lifelessly to either side as another me steps out from the empty shell like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Turning each finger on my right hand into a blade, I carve five more lines into my left forearm. They represent the number of days I've been away from Kamii, and our stay in this city while hypnotized has wasted that much more time. My will to not erase them until I'm back by her side acted as an anchor for my consciousness to return from the beyond.
"Wha-" Hestia looks at my corpse and then the new me with round eyes, unable to comprehend what just happened. Asoko is the same, stopping her groping hands on the girl in her arms to take in the confusing scene of me popping out of myself.
"Why?!" Al-Majnun's mask switches to a surprised one but instantly changes to an angry expression. "Why would you forfeit this dream for the harshness of reality?"
"This isn't a dream; this is a nightmare!" I shout at him and transform into my real appearance. With my much bulkier body, I charge at the jester, but he dodges nimbly. But tentacles sprout from my back and wrap around his neck. "You're not getting away!"
Suddenly, one of the many men partaking in the orgy in this room produces a curved sword from somewhere and cuts off my tentacles. At the same time, two more blades pierce me from behind, but I don't even flinch. Instead, I pull them in until I feel them up to their forearms inside my body, at which point I bite them off with jaws forming around them.
Blood sprays, a man and a woman scream, and I spin around with blades forming on my arms. They slice the two humans into pieces within a split second, and I return my attention to Al-Majnun. But more and more of the previously occupied humans get up to their feet to defend their god. Not one of them looks capable of magic, so not one of them can slow me down, let alone defeat me.
"Stop it, Chloe!" Hestia screams, but I ignore her and charge right at the naked men and women standing in my way.
"What are you doing?" Now, Asoko has risen to her feet as well, unable to comprehend why I would go on a rampage so suddenly. Luckily, she isn't transforming to fight me yet, so I need to destroy the source of their brainwashing before she decides it might be the only way to stop me.
Cutting my way through the humans protecting their god and leaving behind only scattered body parts, I quickly reach the slender man. The expression on his mask is one of incomprehension.
"Die!" I draw back my fist and roar.
"Why are you so in love with death?!" Once again, his pitch changes to the deep and reverberating one, as his jester mask shows anger rather than fear at his impending doom.
I punch in his general direction, not intending to actually land a fist on him. Instead, my forearm spreads into a whole array of spikes from which there's no escape. But when they hit him, his form scatters into an explosion of cloth scraps. Either this body was a fake, or it's one of his powers as a god.
"Go back to sleep!" His voice comes from behind me, and I turn around to see a floating mask next to Hestia. The scraps he scattered into travel on an unnatural whirlwind that reform his
body behind said mask. His gloved hand grabs the angel girl's throat and the other points at me.
"Don't you dare hurt her!" Asoko suddenly says in my stead. It would seem that she has awakened from her hypnosis as well now, as her angry glare is directed at Al-Majnun. "I haven't tasted her yet, so it would be such a waste."
"That's your reason for wanting to stop him?!" I snap at my other half, who shrugs with an expression that seems to ask what other reason she needs. Well, anything is better than her standing against me.
"All of you are-" The god begins, but suddenly looks down in surprise. My discarded shell, which I didn't have the time to reabsorb into my body, has started to unravel into tentacles. One of those has grabbed his ankle and drawn his attention.
Is that going to turn into another me as well? Before that happens, I have to take it back inside. Asoko is already enough; I don't need more individuals sharing my identity running around.
"This is... I see now..." Al-Majnun mutters absentmindedly, and his grip on Hestia's throat loosens. He seems to have gleaned something from seeing my discarded piece move, but for me, that's the perfect opportunity to get the angel girl away from him. And I don't hesitate to take it.
"Mico Coruscaris!" I chant at the same time as I extend an arm to pull Hestia away from him. The invisible wave of heat burns everything in its path and hits the masked god like a physical object. Mask after mask burns and crumbles away until an empty blackness comes to light.
"All... is revealed." He mutters in a strained voice before his body turns into ash and disappears under my spell.
"Pilos Aquos." I quickly cast the water bucket spell over my shell, which has caught on fire as well and is writhing in agony. Flames really are the most apparent weakness of a Crawling Chaos, it would seem. Then I quickly run over and pull the mass of tentacles into my body, making sure to encompass it completely. Just like how slimes reproduce, I fear I'll get taken over instead if this most likely still brainless being can wrap itself around me.
