My sleep was good. Perfect, even.
Back didn't ache from lying atop a pile of Hellfire Beetle husks, and safety was all but assured.
Actually, I slept so deeply that I didn't even notice when someone entered my cell, only coming to it when I felt a finger press against my arm.
Repeatedly.
*Poke*
*Poke*
My eyes were still closed, and I showed no signs of being awake, choosing to wait and see if it would stop.
*Poke*
It did not, in fact, stop.
Okay, but what the hell's actually going on? Is somebody trying to wake me up? No, but why are they being so weirdly gentle?
I was confused beyond reason.
Focusing on my hearing, I sensed the person's presence; they were close to me, seated on the ground to my right.
Just as they reached out to tap me yet again - the unknown individual seemed particularly interested in my bladed arm - my eyes sprung open and I intercepted their hand with my left, claw-tipped one.
Finally, I got a good look at the perpetrator-
"..?"
And was left dumbfounded for what felt like the hundredth time this week.
It was a tall woman, towering by a palm's length above my own height, with black hair cascading down her shoulders.
And her expression… Was of someone who'd just discovered the most fascinating toy in the world, excitement transparently plastered all over her face.
Have I finally lost it? Trauma induced hallucinations? I mean, Bill did hit my head pretty hard a few days ago, so brain damage isn't entirely out of question…
The situation was much too far beyond comprehension.
***
Within one of Nether's neighboring towns, a criminal organization resided.
Under their Boss's flawless leadership, they successfully bribed the local law forces into ignoring their presence; that was, until their Boss met an untimely demise to the hands of Dren.
Dren's power was unmatched, and the same went for his henchmen.
He was the founding head of the Black Lake Syndicate - a group composed exclusively of demonic arts practitioners, all welding a technique passed down to them through Dren's direct teachings.
They were healers of the highest degree; in a large enough group, their regenerative capabilities bordered on immortality.
As a matter of fact, they were so overwhelmingly powerful that even Nether's royalty could only look the other way, choosing to feign ignorance despite their use of prohibited techniques.
It was no wonder, then, that an ordinary criminal organization was brought to the ground as soon as the Black Lake Syndicate set their sights on it.
And while Dren didn't spare the energy on killing every single member, their influence swiftly crumbled without a capable person to take charge.
A meeting was held to decide on a new Boss, in an attempt restore their former glory.
Well, calling it a meeting might be dressing it up too nicely.
Simply put, they fought a bloody fight amongst each other, and the victor was given the position of the new Boss.
The members of the criminal organization were by no means weak, and yet a single woman came out on top without receiving so much as a single scratch.
But that was the core of the issue - she way too obsessed with fighting. An adrenaline junkie, in layman's terms.
Under her leadership, they fought battle after battle, eventually losing most of their combat capable individuals.
The remaining few survivors understood that they would not last much longer with her at the wheel, and abandoned the organization shortly after.
She remained the last, sole member of the criminal organization, if it could even be called that anymore.
And now, the woman was faced with the hardest challenge of her life to date.
I'm so fucking bored…
The woman, who simply called herself Kaela - having discarded her old name and family ties - lamented her fate from atop a throne, now stripped of its former glamor.
"Argh!! I'm gonna kill someone at this rate!"
After that outburst, directed a nobody in particular, Kaela absentmindedly brought a finger to her face to chew on a nail, only to end up with several strands of hair in her mouth.
Her mood soured further as she spat the hairs out, and a thought crossed her mind.
Should I just go bald? It'd be so much more convenient.
But in the end, she gave up on the idea, for one simple reason:
The former Boss never failed to remind her just how valuable of an asset having a presentable appearance was, and - according to other's words - she was as pretty as they came.
Under the Boss's incessant coercion, she eventually caved in and tidied herself up; trimmed her nails, grew out her hair, and stopped wearing her favorite baggy clothes that concealed her well built physique.
Out of everything, being told to switch clothing was met with the most resistance.
An opponent's underestimation was a huge boon when it came to combat, but switching to a skintight top and a flexible battle skirt all but nullified the advantage, only slightly assisting with maneuverability.
Still, the benefits were undeniable - people started treating her as if she were royalty, mostly men for some reason Kaela couldn't quite grasp, and even the usually ruthless merchants became easier to haggle with.
She tapped on the throne's armrest rhythmically, irritation welling up, before coming to a decision.
I need to blow some steam off before I start breaking shit. But, who would be durable enough to take more than a few hits?
It didn't take her long to come up with a fitting target.
Nether's eldest prince, Malrik. Rumored to be ridiculously strong for his age, ain't he? Let's see how true those rumors really are.
Kaela cracked her neck - an action terribly unbefitting of her elegant appearance - and set out towards her destination: Malrik's palace.
***
…Things didn't go as planned.
Not even remotely.
Malrik, as it turned out, was powerful to a downright ridiculous degree, and his personal guards weren't any less capable.
It only took Malrik's forces three minutes to completely overwhelm Kaela, and she was promptly restrained; sentenced to life imprisonment within the jail known for their inhumane treatment of the inmates.
The notoriously famed Royal Detention.
A few hours later, she was getting unceremoniously dragged down a flight of stairs by a moody guard, into a dim basement lined with jail cells.
All of the cells were empty.
All except for one, where a single man slept, slouched against a wall with a peaceful expression.
At least I won't be spending my time here alone. Though, I expected as much.
Generally speaking, only the absolute worst scum of the continent ended up with a Royal Detention.
So, what would happen if you forced two awful people to live together?
Obviously, they would go for each other's throats within seconds - it was, bar none, the easiest way to make the prisoners' sentences a terrible time.
But despite knowing that, Kaela let sigh of relief, happy to have a neighbor she could chat with; the alternative was a slow descent into madness, out of sheer boredom if nothing else.
The guard shackled Kaela inside, and left without another word.
…Welp, I guess this is my life now.
With nothing better to do, she looked around, eyes landing on the man; he somehow remained asleep through the clatter of shackles and the obnoxiously loud door creaks.
It was only after her eyes adjusted to the darkness that she finally got a proper look at his features.
Is this guy a pervert? Why's he half naked?
His features… They were abnormal, to say the least.
The first thing that stood out was the lack of clothing - he was stripped bare, with only a torn cloak tied around his waist by the sleeves.
And then, there was his right arm. The lack thereof it, to be exact. It was cut off at the elbow, a threatening blade protruding in its place.
Kaela's eyes lit up at the sight.
Woah. I've never seen anything like it.
Forgetting all about her previously downtrodden state, she leaned closer to the man, and even more strange details came into view.
Metal enveloped several parts of his body in swirling patterns, seemingly etched into his very skin, much like the blade.
And he was rather young. No older than twenty five, though covered in scars unbefitting of his age.
Doesn't he look, like… Really damn cool?
Over her years spent in the criminal organization, Kaela had seen countless men, all bulging with excessive musculature - either that, or so thin that she wondered how they even had the strength to support their own weight.
In contrast, this man was lean, and of quite a small stature on top of that, while somehow still giving off a dangerous, almost palpably sharp atmosphere.
Suddenly, she recalled her late Boss's wisdom.
I'm sorry for ever doubting you, Boss. I get it now.
For the first time in her life, Kaela felt like she understood the true meaning behind his words - her first impression of the mysterious young man was overwhelmingly positive, influenced solely by looks.
If the Boss were to hear her blatant misconstruction of his teachings, he would have certainly rolled in his grave.
Kaela inspected the peculiar amalgamation of flesh and steel, poking the man's arm here and there with unrestrained curiosity.
A few minutes passed like that, until the man's eyes suddenly sprung open - he caught Kaela's wrist, a vibrant red gleam emitting from his gaze as he threateningly stared at her.
An exhilarating shiver snaked down her spine.
***
I stared at the mad girl, a firm grip on her wrist.
Something about her reaction, though, made me feel a strong sense of repulsion.
The hell's with that smile? You should be scared right now, lady.
I thought for a moment, before putting the pieces together.
Ah, no wonder she's crazy. Wouldn't end up in the same prison as me without a screw loose.
Having given up on trying to make sense of the situation, I let go.
She rubbed her wrist, the wide smile never leaving her face.
I made a disgusted expression, all the while analyzing her appearance.
She was clad entirely in black, matching her hair and nails, and fresh burn wounds marred her white skin and clothes.
Her outfit… Is she some kind of pervert?
Technically, she was entirely clothed, save for the patches clearly burn off in battle - but something about the combination a thin battle skirt and skintight top made it seem weirdly lewd.
Noticing my gaze, her smile grew wider.
"What, entrances by my stunning figure? Stare all you want, if that's what you wish."
Oh, that's what we're doing now?
Initially, I planned to ignore her completely, but I instantly changed my mind after hearing her remark.
"Hah, as if! Didn't you just sensually caress my arm in my sleep? That's considered harassment in the human world. Hell, if anything, you should know that better than me!"
I prepared a slew of insults, but she spoke.
"Just now - you said 'the human world', didn't you? Are you not human yourself?"
I snorted at her question, responding in a condescending tone.
It was somewhat out of character for me, to get this riled up over a regular exchange, but she grated on my nerves too much to care.
"Yeah, no shit. Your eyes dysfunctional or something? Just look at me; ever seen a human with steel embedded in their flesh?"
At my words, she tilted her head to the side, as if genuinely considering my question which I only posed in jest.
Then, she clapped her hands, as if the dots finally connected, and confidently replied.
"Nope! Never seen someone like you before. What are you, then?"
Is she truly clueless? Let's give her a bit of a scare, then. That should shut her down.
Along with those thoughts, I channeled a bit of essence into my eyes, directing the pressure her way.
"Listen up, you inferior worm. I'm a Threadripper. Your natural predator."
At my words, her expression changed - but not in the way I intended.
Instead of fear, she displayed subtle signs of excitement, and leaned even closer in.
I swiftly pulled back.
"Ohh! So that's why you look so unique. Hey, I've heard that Threadrippers eat humans alive. Is that true? Wait, will you take a bite if I give you my arm? I've never been bitten before!"
Yet again, I was at a loss for words.
It's gotta be a talent, right? She's so hard to speak with.
"Haaah, no. I'm not in the mood to taste the flesh of a mentally deranged human."
In a blink, she got on her knees, face planted into the ground in the most respectful manner I've ever witnessed.
I waved my left, clawed hand in outright refusal.
"Stop, it's disgusting. I'm not biting you, even if you begged for a week straight."
"Damn persistent, aren't ya?"
With a defeated look, the crazy girl sat back up, but not without complaining under her breath.
Well, I guess her being slightly unwell in the head has its upsides.
I comforted myself with the thought that, at the very least, she wouldn't get scared enough to trigger Voracity out of nowhere.
Can't imagine I'd be getting a pat on the back for killing another inmate.
The thought offered little consolation.
"Anyways, Mr Threadripper, is this prison really as bad as they say?"
"Don't call me that, I have a name. It's Ori."
Her shoulders shook at my words, as if barely holding in a laugh.
Did I say something weird?
"Ori? Just Ori? I expected something more, you know… Grand? The last survivor of the Threadripper race needs to have a badass name! Ori doesn't match your cool vibe at all."
Did she just call me cool? No, my hearing must've suffered from the injuries.
"Oh, yeah? Enlighten me on your name, then. Surely, it's not as 'lame' as mine?"
"Obviously, it's way cooler. Came up with it myself, after all. I'm Kaela!"
Truthfully, I couldn't give the slightest of shits about her name, but the urge to poke fun was irresistible, so I replied in the most unimpressed voice I could muster.
"…Is that it?"
I could've sworn I saw her cough up blood just now.
Is she getting upset? I mean, that was the goal, but I'm not sure about this.
Realizing that Kaela was about to start a tantrum, I quickly backpedaled.
"Relax, I was just kidding. It's a great name."
"Really..?"
"Yes, really. Look, this back and forth is getting exhausting. Can we switch topics before I lose my mind? Or you can just shut up and let me sleep; that also works."
She stared at me for a few seconds, expression rapidly shifting, and then voiced her next question.
"Then, could you try using your powers on me? Ah, and don't worry about causing me pain - I've been trained to endure damn near anything."
I considered Kaela's request for a moment.
I guess I could? I mean, I've got nothing better to do anyways. Sure, she knows how to get on my nerves beyond compare, but her pain tolerance is definitely no joke.
I threw another look at her singed skin, noting that she moved without so much as a flinch in spite of the burns.
Eh, whatever. What's the worst that could happen?
"Fine. But if you start screaming, you'll definitely get a solid beating later. Got it?"
She nodded in affirmation-
"Of course."
-And started taking her top off.
"Wait, wait, wait!! Why are you undressing?! Stop!"
On that day, I made a vow to myself:
I will never go along with a plan, no matter how foolproof, if it first has me asking 'what could go wrong' again.