The path toward the eastern side of the slums was a maze of even narrower and darker alleys. The tension from the fight had dissipated, replaced by an uncomfortable silence broken only by the crunch of dirt beneath their feet. Asher walked a step behind Felt, observing how the small thief moved with familiarity through the area.
He decided to break the ice, or at least try to.
"Hey, how long have we been walking? I almost wish you'd stab me again," he commented with a tired smile.
Felt didn't even turn around. "Shut up and keep walking."
"Charming. Well, since we're going to do business, I should know who I'm dealing with. How old are you?"
She stopped for a second, giving him a side-long glance. "Why? Are you a worried gentleman?"
"I'm the guy you almost killed. Brat."
"Fifteen," she snapped, resuming her walk as if the number were irrelevant.
Asher whistled, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Fifteen… Professional thief from such a cute age? What a promising future. You should put that on your resume."
"Screw you!" she retorted, though without real anger. "I learn fast. And I'm good at what I do."
"I saw that. You almost cut me in half," he admitted. "Although you're also quite cute for a thief."
Felt shrugged, but Asher noticed her ears turn slightly red. "Flattering me isn't going to help."
"It was more of an observation on my part."
They reached a small wooden bridge that crossed the same murky stream as before. Felt stopped, turning toward him to point ahead. "Over there, at the end of this path, is the—"
She didn't finish the sentence. Asher, driven by an intrusive thought—an image of what that blonde hair would feel like between his fingers—reached out and softly stroked her head. It was an almost automatic gesture, a mix of curiosity and the boldness given to him by their strange post-fight familiarity.
The reaction was instantaneous. Felt went rigid as a board. A sound between a whine and a growl escaped her throat.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Take your hand off there or I'll bite you!" she protested, her voice an octave higher than normal. Her face was completely red.
But Asher was lost. The softness of her hair was addictive, and her angry embarrassment only fueled his impulse. Instead of withdrawing his hand, he played with a lock of hair, completely ignoring the warning.
God, it's so soft. I bet all of her is this—
"OW!"
--[Short Time Skip]--
After a few more minutes of walking, in a silence that was now less awkward and more of a truce, they arrived at their destination. It was a structure larger and more solid than Felt's shed, resembling an abandoned warehouse.
"So this is the place," Asher commented, glancing sideways at Felt before scrutinizing the imposing warehouse with a mixed feeling of curiosity and apprehension.
Felt, ignoring his comment, approached the massive door and knocked a specific pattern with her knuckles: two quick taps, a pause, and a third, heavier one.
"For a rat," a deep, gruff voice resonated from inside.
"Poison," Felt replied without hesitation.
"For a white whale."
"Harpoon."
"For the dragon lord."
"We are scum."
A heavy bolt slid open on the other side with a sinister metallic sound. Slow, but incredibly heavy footsteps approached. The door opened with a creak, and the figure that filled the entire frame was that of a giant. The man was so enormous he had to stoop so as not to hit the door frame, which was already over two meters high. His bulk was such that he completely blocked the light from inside.
"What took you so long?" the old man replied with a yawn that revealed a breath smelling of cheap alcohol. His eyes, small and shrewd, shifted from Felt to Asher. "Who's the boy, Felt?"
"Sorry to keep you waiting, old Rom. The target was persistent; it took a long time to lose her. Plus, I stole something from this guy, and he wants it back," Felt explained. "We need you to appraise the value of something he is offering me in exchange."
Rom studied Asher with a gaze that scrutinized him up and down, evaluating his strange clothes and his attitude. "Is that it then?" he growled. "In that case, follow me."
The interior of the warehouse was an organized chaos. Piles of objects of dubious origin—from candelabras to rusty armor—were stacked against the walls. Rom headed to a makeshift counter made of barrels and a heavy wooden plank.
"Let's see, what is this here?" Rom asked, holding the small phone that Asher had stolen from the corpse with surprising delicacy between his gigantic fingers.
"That allows you to capture a moment in time forever," Asher explained, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's very delicate, so handle it with care."
"A metia? I know of them, but this is the first time I've seen one in person…" Rom muttered, turning the device in the light. "If I were to sell it, I wouldn't ask for less than 15… no, 20 Holy Gold Coins."
"And what about this one?" Felt intervened with a sly smile, handing the iPhone 4 to Rom. "This is what this guy is desperately looking for. If he's offering me that metia in exchange, it means this also has value."
Shit, you little brat. Isn't giving you 20 Holy Coins enough? You want more? Asher thought, feeling a cold sweat on the back of his neck as he watched Rom's Brick-sized fingers examine his prized iPhone.
Rom held the device in his palm. His index finger was wider than the screen. Suddenly, the iPhone's screen lit up, showing a generic wallpaper. The giant blinked, surprised by the light, but it was clear he didn't have the slightest idea how to use it. "You're right about one thing, Felt. If the boy offers something so expensive in exchange, it means this artifact has equal or greater value."
Just what I needed. And I thought it would be easier. I'll have to lie. I must not show anxiety.
"Don't get the wrong idea," Asher said, forcing a tone of indifference. "It has more sentimental value than anything else. Obviously, the metia is more expensive."
"This wouldn't happen to be another metia?" Rom insisted, fixing his eyes on Asher's.
"Nah! It's just a flashlight… and it tells me the time. It's literally a magical pocket watch," Asher improvised, shrugging.
"Magical watch? I've never heard of anything similar before," Rom said, frowning.
"Yes, it's something new being manufactured out west… the west," Asher lied, holding his gaze.
"The West? Are you from Priestella, by any chance?" Rom suddenly asked.
The question hit Asher like a bucket of cold water. He froze, his mind racing. Was it a genuine question or a trap? If he answered incorrectly, he would be exposed as a liar.
"Nah, I was born on the outskirts of the capital," he replied as naturally as possible. "I just travel a lot. It was on one of my trips that I recently acquired it." That way, they can't suspect me or verify anything I said.
Rom observed him in silence for a moment that felt like an eternity. Finally, he snorted. "To be honest, I can't identify the real value of this. It's the first time I've seen one. I couldn't say for sure how much I'd sell it for." He handed the iPhone to Felt. "I would recommend that you trade it to the boy and keep the metia, which you could sell for at least 20 Holy Coins, or even more."
Felt looked thoughtful, weighing the phone in her hand. Finally, she let out a sigh. "I trust you, Rom. After all, you're the one who knows about this. I would have been cheated many times if it weren't for you." She turned to Asher with a casual gesture. "Fine, here you go."
Asher took the iPhone, and this time he put it deep into one of the pockets of his military jacket, feeling a wave of relief. Shit, finally. What a martyr, going through all this to get a phone back.
Looking out the window, he saw that night had completely fallen. His next priority, a safe place to sleep, hit him hard. He had been so focused on recovering the phone that he had neglected the most basic thing.
It was then that a soft but firm knock resonated at the door.
"Does it know the password?" Rom asked.
"I didn't tell her, but it must be for me. I'll go see," Felt said, turning towards the entrance.
"Do you have another deal today?" Asher asked curiously, watching the girl approach the door.
"You could say so. She asked me to steal a insignia and told me she would give me 10 holy coins," Felt commented casually as she slid the bolt open.
"Have you known each other for a long time?" Asher inquired, directing his question to Rom. "She seems to trust you a lot."
"Yes, I took her in when she was little, so I help her," the giant replied with a tone that revealed a hint of paternal tenderness. As he spoke, he walked toward a corner of the counter and picked up a club that easily measured one Asher long and two wide. "She's not cut out for this," he added with a sigh of worry that contrasted with his intimidating figure.
"I understand. You want her to leave this life, right?" Asher said, perceiving the melancholy on the old man's face.
"I was right, it was for me," Felt announced from the doorway.
And then, she entered. A woman of almost supernatural beauty. Her height was average, but her proportions were voluptuous and curvy, emphasized by a provocative black dress that clung to her figure like a second skin. The outfit, strapless and completely open in the back, highlighted every curve. It featured purple adornments, deep thigh-high slits, and a daring front cut that displayed her navel and a plunging neckline. Her skin was porcelain pale, a shocking contrast to her dark, intense purple eyes that swept the room and fixed on Asher with an unsettling intensity.
"Come in, take a seat," Felt said, inviting the woman in with a gesture that was intended to be professional but couldn't hide a bit of nervousness.
"There seem to be many strangers," the woman commented, her voice soft as silk, but charged with an intent that chilled Asher's blood. Her attention did not leave him.
"I'd have trouble if you scammed me. The weak have our tricks," Felt said, putting her hands on the back of her neck with a carefree smile intended to hide the tension.
"I know the older man," the woman said, approaching the table. "But what about the young one?"
"He's simply a client. We made an exchange before you arrived," Felt hurried to explain.
"I see then," the woman murmured, and although her words were accepting, her purple eyes did not release Asher.
"Alright, let's start the negotiations," Rom announced.
---
Once everyone was seated at the table, Elsa pulled out a small bag of coins and set it down with a soft jingle.
"Ten Holy Coins. That should suffice," she said. "Do you have what I asked for, then?"
"Yes, of course, I have it right here—" Felt began, reaching into her pockets.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as the girl searched fruitlessly. Asher noticed his own tension rising as he watched Elsa.
This woman hasn't blinked once since she walked in.
"Uh… where is it? I had it here…" Felt mumbled, a hint of nervousness in her voice. More than a minute had passed.
Did she lose it when I chased her or during our fight? Asher thought, feeling a cold sweat on the back of his neck.
"You don't have it?" Elsa asked, her voice serene but charged with a dangerous calm.
"Ehh, well, I… uhm… yes, I think I lost it," Felt admitted with an awkward giggle, rubbing the back of her neck.
Rom let out a deep sigh. "Felt…"
Asher saw the dark-haired woman's expression transform for an instant. A shadow of frustration crossed her face before the mask of serenity was put back in place. Something was very wrong. She was truly annoyed, and her calm demeanor was now chilling.
"I see. So 'you lost it'," Elsa said, standing up with a fluid motion. "In that case, there is no point in me being here."
"That's a shame. Please excuse her for wasting your time. You may leave," Rom concluded.
Felt was completely embarrassed, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. "I-I really am so—"
Before she could finish the word, Asher lunged at her. Both crashed to the floor just as a silver slash cut the air where Felt's neck had been an instant before. Instead, locks of dark brown hair floated gently to the ground.
"I shouldn't have entrusted this job to a slum rat in the first place," Elsa added, her kukri elegantly wielded. "My contractor won't like this."
A bestial growl then resonated. Rom brought his club down against Elsa's head with the force of a mill.
CRACK!
A deafening crash shook the room. The club did not find flesh; instead, it shattered the wooden floor, opening a crater where she had been. But Elsa was no longer there. She appeared like a ghost behind the old giant, propelling herself with supernatural speed to plunge her kukri into his nape. Rom, by pure reflex, managed to turn and block the blow with the handle of his weapon. The force of the impact made him take a step back, the floorboards groaning under his feet.
"I've never fought a giant to the death," Elsa commented calmly, dodging another of Rom's club swings with a spinning jump that pulverized the table into splinters. She landed with feline grace on the counter.
"Silence, Young woman! I'll mash you up and feed you to the rats!" Rom roared, delivering a vertical blow that Elsa eluded, shattering the counter in its place.
Rom did not stop. He delivered a succession of horizontal blows, each with the force to split a tree. Elsa began to block them with her kukri, but the power was such that she was forced to give ground, backing away with each impact, her arms absorbing the brutal vibration.
As the fight unfolded, Asher helped Felt get up from the floor.
"Felt, we have to go," Asher said, his nervousness escalating into panic.
"It's okay, Rom won't lose. I know him, he's strong," she replied with a confident, albeit shaky, smile.
"TAKE THIS!" Rom yelled, charging a downward diagonal swing with all his might. He did not realize that such a wide movement made him terribly predictable.
Elsa pivoted on the ball of her foot, dodging the blow by an infinitesimal margin. Taking advantage of the turning inertia, her kukri drew a silver arc. The blade found Rom's arm with a wet, crunchy sound. Flesh and bone yielded like butter. The arm, cleanly separated from the shoulder, dropped to the floor with a thud.
A scarlet torrent erupted from the wound, staining the floor and walls. Rom let out a choked growl of agony, his other hand instinctively clutching the profusely bleeding stump.
"ROM!" Felt shrieked, her cry torn by distress.
"Damn you…! I'll at least take you with me!" Rom roared, charging toward her with the fury of a wounded animal.
When he was about to reach her, Elsa moved faster than a blink. In a fraction of a second, she was on his back. Without mercy, she plunged the kukri into the base of his skull. The blade pierced flesh, vertebrae, and the jugular, emerging from the front of his throat in a spout of dark blood.
Rom convulsed violently, his eyes wide, before collapsing face down onto the floor. A crimson pool rapidly expanded around his head. The blood splattered onto Asher's hair and face, hot and thick.
Asher felt the air freeze in his lungs. He stared at Rom's motionless corpse and then at Elsa's sinister smile, who remained crouched on his back, impeccable except for the scarlet splatters on her dress.
That speed was at least Mach 1[1]. I couldn't see a thing, he thought, swallowing hard, the metallic taste of someone else's blood in his mouth.
"You wretched woman! How could you?!" Felt screamed, clenching her fists so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palms.
"Oh my, it seems you are braver than your friend~" Elsa said as she extracted the kukri from Rom's nape with a wet, grotesque sound. She brought the bloody edge to her lips and licked it languidly. "Or stupider."
"I'll kill you! Even if you don't fight back, you damned lunatic!" Felt growled, tears of rage and pain streaming down her face.
"You should be careful not to slip. I'm not very good with knives, you know?" Elsa said with icy sarcasm, spinning the kukri at dizzying speed before pointing it directly at the girl's heart.
Felt turned to Asher, her eyes pleading. "Sorry for dragging you into this." Immediately afterward, she lunged toward Elsa with a heartbreaking scream, but a hand stopped her firmly before she could use her Divine Protection. Asher held her arm tightly.
"Get out of here. I'll handle it," Asher said, his voice calmer than he felt.
"What? Let go of me!" she protested, struggling uselessly.
"Listen to me for once, you little shit! I am older than you, so you must obey me. What good will it do for you to die here? I'll help you escape," Asher ordered, firmly positioning himself in front of her like a human shield.
"How confident. You almost convinced me you'd succeed~" Elsa said with an arrogant, seductive smile.
Asher grabbed one of the shattered chairs from the floor with both hands. His knuckles were white from the pressure.
"Felt, when I give the signal, run. As fast as you can," he told her without taking his eyes off Elsa.
Felt's words caught in her throat. She wanted to scream at him, insult him for his stupidity, beg him to run away together. But she could only nod, a knot of terror and gratitude tightening in her chest.
Asher then charged forward. He was fully aware of his reality: he had no gifts, no superhuman speed, no magic. He was just a normal guy facing a monster. The only things he had left were wits and desperation. He knew he would die, but if his death meant the girl could live, then the trade would be fair.
She is fast. She can escape. Not like me.
When he was a few meters away, he pivoted on his foot and, grabbing the chair with one hand, threw it at Elsa with all his might. To his surprise, the projectile flew with unexpected power, straight at the assassin's face.
Elsa, unfazed, split the chair in two with a minimal movement of her kukri. But that was the distraction Asher needed. He lunged for Rom's club, buried among the rubble. The weapon was monstrously heavy, easily over a hundred kilograms, and yet, a force he didn't know was adrenaline, hysteria, or something deeper allowed him[2] to lift it. He propelled himself toward Elsa with a guttural scream.
"NOW, FELT!"
He unleashed a brutal swing toward the assassin's head. The blow only found the floor, shattering planks and kicking up a cloud of dust. Elsa had dodged it with a few side steps, observing his clumsy and predictable movements with disdain. Her gaze then shifted to Felt, who was running toward the exit. With a fluid movement, she pulled out a pair of daggers and threw them with deadly precision.
Asher had anticipated it. As soon as he finished his attack, he powerfully kicked a loose floorboard, sending it flying to intercept the daggers in the air. The blades plunged into the wood with a dry clack.
Elsa clicked her tongue, irritated, as she watched Felt disappear out the door. Asher, exhausted but not giving up, attempted more blows. Each swing was slower, heavier than the last. Elsa dodged them elegantly, moving around him like a shadow.
"It's pointless. It's clear you're a novice. Your movements are clumsy and you have no technique," she declared with chilling calm. "But I'll admit it was fun playing with you."
She then launched a quick slash. Asher barely managed to interpose the club, but the force of the impact made him recoil several meters, slipping in Rom's blood. Extreme exhaustion, lack of sleep, and his injuries overcame him. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor, without an ounce of energy left.
"What's wrong? Are you giving up?" Elsa asked with genuine curiosity, like a cat toying with its prey.
"I think I haven't slept in a whole day. Can't fall asleep either," he replied with sarcasm tinged with absolute exhaustion.
"Oh dear, poor thing. That's a shame. I'll admit you have determination. If you had acted sooner, perhaps you would have saved the old man too," she commented, approaching with slow steps.
"Don't remind me, you damned crazy bitch," he tried to growl, attempting to get up. But a sudden kick slammed into his abdomen, lifting him off the ground. Another impacted the same spot, sending him flying against the rubble with brutal force.
CRASH!
The impact resonated through the ruined structure. Asher fell among broken lumber, his body a sack of shattered flesh. Fractured ribs perforated his lungs, one arm hung at an unnatural angle, and a deep wound in his belly oozed dark blood. His face was bathed in scarlet, cut by the debris. He spat out a gush of blood and his vision blurred, going out of focus.
So… this is the end… he thought, as a sharp ringing flooded his ears. Through a red veil, he saw Elsa's figure approach and stop over him.
"Poor dear… you must be suffering greatly. Let me help you~" she murmured with a macabre sweetness. She knelt and lifted his blood-soaked shirt. "You have such a lovely color." She ran her fingers, cold as marble, over his traumatized abdomen until she reached the open cut. "It's so warm… Your insides must be a very pretty color~"
With the tip of her kukri, she opened the wound a little wider. Asher couldn't even scream. Bloody viscera slid out of the orifice with a viscous sound and fell to the floor.
"Does it hurt? Are you suffering? Do you want to die?" Elsa whispered in his ear. But she soon realized her words weren't reaching him. He was no longer listening.
Mom… Dad… This is as far as I go. I'm a disappointment… haha… I can't take it anymore. I'm so tired… It hurts so much… I want to see you… just one more time. I'll be good this time… I won't leave home again… I swear… Please…
These were his last thoughts, a final yearning for comfort amidst the agony. Before his eyelids, heavy as lead, closed forever, his entire world turned black. His time had come. To rest. Eternally.
.
.
.
.
.
The void was terrifying. There was nothing, he heard nothing, he felt nothing. He didn't know why he was still conscious.
The pain was gone. The memory of the glacial blade opening his belly was just a distant echo, a fading nightmare. The darkness surrounding him wasn't empty; it was heavy, tangible, like damp velvet against his skin.
Suddenly, a faint violet glow began to filter through. The shadows retreated, materializing into a dreamlike landscape. A garden of silver flowers swaying without wind, beneath a perpetual midnight sky. It was beautiful and oppressive in equal measure. The air smelled of wet earth and something sweet, almost putrid.
And then, he saw her.
Seated on an ebony bench, wearing a black dress that seemed to be made of the same darkness that surrounded him, was a woman of supernatural beauty. Her hair, silver like the flowers, cascaded to the ground. But what chilled Asher's blood were her eyes: vertical, intensely violet pupils, fixed on him with a soul-piercing intensity.
She stood up and approached. Her footsteps made no sound. Asher wanted to back away, to scream, but he was paralyzed, not by an external force, but by pure awe.
She reached out a pale hand and stroked his cheek. The touch was icy, but not unpleasant. An infinite sadness clouded her gaze, mixed with something else… relief?
"I've been looking for you…" Her voice was a melodious whisper that resonated directly in his mind.
Asher tried to speak, but only managed to emit a choked sound. The woman didn't seem to mind. She drew closer, until he could see his reflection in those inhuman pupils.
"Where have you been?... I missed you so much." Her voice cracked slightly, as if she had been waiting for eons.
She took his face in both hands. Her touch was both a comfort and a prison.
What is happening? Where am I?
"I'm so happy," she murmured, and for the first time, a sad, genuine smile appeared on her lips. "I can feel you… you're here, with me. Truly."
Her eyes scanned him up and down, studying him with a childish and profound curiosity.
"You look… different," she mused, a hint of confusion that vanished instantly. "You're more handsome."
This is so confusing… I don't remember you, who are you?
Before Asher could process the absurdity of that comment, she pulled him toward her. His face was pressed against her ample breasts. The scent of shadows and wilted flowers flooded him. He couldn't move; his ears burned and his body tensed.
"I love you." The whisper was an absolute declaration, an unquestionable fact of nature. "I love you so much…"
Why do you love me? Is this limbo? Were you the one who brought me here?
Asher felt the reality around him begin to blur. The garden was becoming translucent. The woman held him tighter, as if trying to prevent the inevitable.
"Be careful," she told him, her voice already distant, as if coming from the bottom of an ocean. "I'll give you a gift… so you know it's me. So that… you don't get lost again."
A strange sensation washed over him, as if a veil was being lifted from his senses. Suddenly, he was aware of a penetrating, sweet smell emanating from his own body. Her scent.
Then, everything went black again.
Asher gasped, returning to life in the cobblestone square of the commercial district. The stench covering him made him gag, the witch's odor permeating every fiber of his being. He... he had returned from the dead.
[1] For your reference, Mach 1 is equivalent to the speed of sound. She's even faster than that.
[2] He was able to use the Flow method to amplify his physical abilities at that time. This will be explained later.