1
Izumi ran. Her feet felt weirdly light, as she followed the secluded path deeper and deeper into the woods, the same path that ancient people's feet had trampled for centuries before her. She didn't feel much anything at all. Her body seemed like a hollow, dried up eggshell, dangling in the wind. It was all like a dream. She had to have been dreaming, seeing a nightmare, there was surely no way real life could be that terrible? No, it could. It could be worse. But what about it? All her dreams were nightmares, and so was all of her life. There was not one good, uplifting vision mixed in anywhere. There existed no distinct, tangible differentiation between her dreams and reality whatsoever.
It was a dream.
It was reality.
It didn't matter.
None of it mattered.
Nothing she did mattered.
Nothing anyone did mattered.
So I might as well—
Izumi arrived at a clearing between the misshapen trees.
There was a small basin, at the bottom of which stood odd little houses. Weather-beaten, rundown huts, collapsed and abandoned ages ago. Ancient fireplaces in circles of blackened stones. Rotted tanning racks, moss-covered whetstones. A dried up, crumbled well, remains of carts and carriages, old pots of rusted-through iron and plates of hand-shaped clay.
Times changed.
Civilizations evolved, science and technology spread together with the written word, replacing cults and religion. But this place, forgotten by time, remained as a proof of the once intimate relationship between men and the Divine. To the people living here, religion wasn't a matter of faith. Not a matter of dreams.
The gate of truth—Varnam.
But to the lone woman from Earth, it didn't matter. None of it mattered.
Izumi ran into an ambush.
Of the twenty knights who had set out with the vizier, thirteen had been slain. Seven were left. Six stood there, blocking the path through the abandoned village. It seemed they'd been forewarned and had been waiting for her. Armed with bows, kneeling, they spotted the woman and quickly took aim.
There was no time to even think about taking cover.
Izumi lowered her stance, turned sideways to minimize the target area, and flipped her wide sword in front of her as a shield. It didn't cover her completely, but so long as her vitals were guarded, she didn't care.
Six arrows were fired simultaneously.
Four, aimed at her chest, were deflected by the sword and rebounded around harmlessly. One scraped the back of her left thigh. One her right arm a bit below the elbow. There was no fire. Neither arrow bore the dreadful rune. Only surface wounds.
The rebounded projectiles had yet to fall to the ground, when Izumi made her move.
She grabbed the Amygla's handle with both hands, lifted it high above her head and flung the greatsword across the air.
“AAAGH!”
The heavy projectile impaled the knight in the middle of the line through the lower abdomen, while he was reaching for another arrow. His companions were staggered for a heartbeat—and no more.
The ability to control and contain one's emotions on the battlefield, recall the patterns ingrained through rigorous training and years of field experience, and act undisturbed under all conditions...these were the qualities expected of an “elite”. Unbending mental and physical fortitude, gained by forcing both the body and the mind to the limit of human potential, and beyond.
As if their minds had become one, those five remaining knights reached for a replacement arrow in unison, to fire again. No one was left behind, all motions were flawless and swift. But it didn't matter.
Izumi ran.
She wasn't a soldier. Not a knight. Not a mercenary. A nobody.
The experience guiding her actions was largely virtual, imaginary.
Outside the training halls of modern combat sports, where everyone was friends and never fought to kill, she had only faced warriors that were digital, in worlds that weren't real. But to her right now, whether it was reality or a game—it didn't matter.
It's a nightmare. A nightmare. Just a bad dream. Nothing is real. It doesn't matter.
Izumi saw everything through a hazy, unfeeling mist, as if in slow motion.
She was only in another arena shooter, nothing more, and examined the situation with the disinterest of a tired gamer.
Trying to hide behind the huts was pointless. The archers would pin her down and drop her as soon as she'd show her head. Dodging five arrows on open ground was clearly impossible. But if she had to dodge only one, things would get simpler. Therefore, she ran. She picked the knight furthermost on the right and dashed straight at him.
Even though his movements were slowed down by the heavy plate armor, it took the knight only a few seconds to draw a fresh arrow, set it and pull the string. Even as the enemy came closer and closer, he controlled his nerves and didn't waver, didn't blink. There was no chance of missing from so close. He relaxed his fingers and let go.
But Izumi was faster.
Reaching out, she grabbed both the bow and the arrow in her fist. Exactly how terrible was her grip strength, to halt the weight of sixty pounds trying to propel the projectile at her heart? Tackling the knight, she turned the bow to point left and released her hold.
A series of sharp whistles rang out in the span of half a second.
Not even steel plate could withstand a shot from a military grade compound bow from this range. The knight closest to the left was pierced through the side. He recoiled back, involuntarily lowering his aim and loosened his own arrow. It pierced the leg of the knight in Izumi's embrace, a finger's width from her thigh. The soldier behind the second followed the target too far before firing, hitting his own, staggering comrade in the arm, an inch below the shoulder. The bloodied shaft slipped straight through the flesh, brushing past Izumi's temple.
The remaining two recognized they were too late and held their arrows, instead leaving the line to recollect the target.
Quickly looking up to check which way they were going, Izumi rolled the other way, keeping the third knight between them. She drew the longsword from the belt of the knight she had knocked down, slipping past the fatally wounded man in the middle, and stabbed the blade into the throat of the third archer.
Instead of leaving him right away, Izumi kept him standing by holding the sword up, and hid behind him. One of the remaining archers expected her to emerge from the other side sooner and wasted his arrow. Letting go of her involuntary bodyguard and the sword piercing his neck, Izumi rolled out and picked up the Amygla from the corpse of the fourth imperial.
She didn't waste energy trying to parry the remaining arrow, but simply took a step back. He had aimed ahead, which made his arrow miss its mark by a considerable margin.
“Wait...” Realizing he wouldn't have the time to shoot again, the knight dropped his bow and retreated. But he misjudged the ancient greatsword's reach. Izumi's wild horizontal swing smacked him by the side of the head, breaking his neck.
The last man had the time to take out another arrow, but his nerves and the thick gloves finally failed him at the intense moment, and the feathers slipped from his grasp.
“Damn it…!” He could only lament his pitiful failure, as the greatsword's blade cleaved his shoulder in two.
The one surviving knight tried to limp away, the arrow sticking from his leg. Holding up her sword like a javelin, Izumi threw the weapon through his back.
“That liar,” she muttered as she went to pick it up. “There was only one magic arrow.”
—“Hey!”
As Izumi extracted the sword and tried to swing it to get the blood off, a voice called out to her from further down the path.
Yes. There was one more enemy left.
A knight emerged from behind the huts and blocked the road through the village. He had a bow and a vine of arrows as well, but he now removed them and threw them away.
“Right,” Izumi glanced at him with little interest. “Twenty men headed out with the vizier. Only nineteen are dead. You were the nifty sniper?”
“I did not wish for this,” the knight said. “Why could you not stay with the rest? Your friend's blood stains your hands as much as it does mine.”
“Not at all,” the woman said. “Soon enough, the only blood visible on your hands will be your own.”
The knight untied the strap under his jaw and pulled off his helmet.
Izumi had seen a lot of knights in the past few days, even spoken with some, while serving the meals and walking around. But this one she could recognize by name. She should've recognized him by name. But not really. The name was too difficult for Izumi to memorize and recall so easily. At the very least, she recognized he was “someone with a name”, which by Izumi's standards was a lot said.
That name was Leterrié.
Captain Sehegilia Den Duneb Alais Leterrié.
Not that Izumi could know it at the time, but the man who had so graciously agreed to assist with Yuliana's sword practice was none other than Miragrave's second-in-command.
Removing his chestplate and utility belt, Leterrié drew his sword.
“Will you not turn away? Will you not consider the lives of my men as sufficient repayment for the loss of your friend? So far as I am concerned, the repayment steeply outweighs the crime.”
“Repayment?” Izumi repeated.
“Enough people have died on this vain quest. I would prefer not to add to them.”
“Hey, tell me. Since you seem to know the value of human lives so well, why don't you tell me this—Exactly how do you begin to pay back for something that has no price?”
“Lady Izumi, please...”
“Rise said she owed me for saving her life. That by saving me, we'd be equals again. Isn't that silly? She had it all wrong. I couldn't even begin to understand how much I owed her, until I realized I couldn't ever repay her. Poor girl. She could've saved my worthless hide a thousand times over, and we never would've become anywhere close to equals in this life. Your blood, the blood of your knights, the blood of that vizier, the blood of your whole Empire—would only be pocket change next to my debt to that girl. I don't get it. What should I do now? I have no idea. Killing you won't even make up for the interest. But well...I guess it's a start.”
Gripping his sword tighter, Leterrié looked sternly back at Izumi and raised his weapon,
“I see there is no other way then. Come, my friend. You will find that I am not selling myself so cheaply.”
“I don't know if you noticed, but it's not a branch I'm holding today.”
Had this ancient land ever witnessed a more bizarre and sadder scene in its unrecorded history?
Facing off in the middle of the abandoned village, surrounded by corpses and broken houses, were a valiant knight of the Empire and a woman from another world.
Itaka Izumi, in her two-handed stance, facing forward, the Amygla's tip at the level of her line of sight.
Captain Leterrié, his sword raised above his head, in the stance he knew as the Swan, ready to strike.
Like that night on the field outside Varnam, they now stared through one another. This time, there would be no lessons.
No advice.
No rematches.
No illusions.
Only one would leave this place alive.
Izumi's weapon was far heavier. Leterrié knew blocking it was too foolish. He had to bet on superior mobility and land the first strike, which was why he removed his armor. Izumi wore no armor in the first place, but the sizable weapon would slow her enough. She needed momentum to be able to land the killing blow, and time and space to acquire it. If only he could seize the initiative, she wouldn't be able to keep up. That was why he had picked a high stance over her mid-stance. All he had to do was keep that massive weapon from being raised, and it would be his victory.
Leterrié was good-intending, not stupid.
The knight had discreetly gathered all the tactical advantages to his side before the battle even began. He had learned from their brief confrontation earlier and knew not to underestimate this woman.
Meanwhile, what did Itaka Izumi think?
How did she prepare her heart for the confrontation?
Nothing.
Nothing at all went through her mind.
They had faced off once before—she never doubted she would win.
The knight slowly advanced. Bit by bit, he inched forward, while Izumi remained still, expressionless, as if asleep.
The tip of the Amygla wavered a little.
Judging he was close enough, the knight made his move.
Leterrié quickly threw his whole body forward and swung down his arms, to strike away the sword blocking his way. The second move following right after, a stab through the shieldless chest, would end the fight. But he was too slow.
——“TSUKI!”
The woman let out a loud shout in a foreign language.
The force of her voice hit him like a blast of air, making his spirit waver for one fleeting fragment of a second. An instance too long. By the time he recovered, the Langorian holy sword had stabbed through his throat and pierced the spinal cord.
This in one step.
In the second step, Izumi moved past the knight captain and turned around, extracted the blade and swung down overhead, executing the mortally wounded man.
“By the way, stabs to the throat are prohibited in low-grade kendo,” she remarked over his corpse and continued on.
There was a lesson, after all.
Izumi ran, through the ancient village, deeper and deeper into the woods.
2
The horses refused to go on. Vizier Rubeus Attiker knew it had been a mistake to let the knight driving the cart off, but he had wanted to be alone when he would find the spring. He was no horseman, though he knew how to ride one well enough. But the pair before the cart now were wholly opposed to continuing, and his commands had no effect on them whatsoever. They neighed anxiously and pulled the cart to the side, where the wheels dug deep into the trench, causing it to tilt dangerously. It was as if they were frightened by something ahead. Or just plain stubborn.
“Fine,” the man said to them after climbing off the cart. “I will tell his majesty. You're sausage. Wurst.”
Despite his threats, there was no other choice. He had to continue on foot. If the spring was close by, the barrels could be carried there and back by hand. A strenuous job, but if twenty able-bodied knights couldn't do it, then who could? After one last scowl of disapproval to the disobedient horses, the vizier left to follow the barely visible path in the knee-length grass.
After a short distance, he discovered that there would've been no way to drive the cart through there anyway. The path grew narrow and bumpy. It was difficult even for walking, still muddy and slippery from all the rain. Attiker nearly tripped over the treacherous roots and vines several times. The slim strings of spider web hanging everywhere clung to his face, making him spit and shudder. He was hot in his thick overcoat and wiped sweat off his forehead.
The air seemed mysteriously warm here, misty and humid.
Had the forest fire reached this far?
This is Hel. The nest of misery where the dishonorable dead are cast and forgotten for eternity. No doubt about it.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
The trail continued downward, at a continuously steepening angle. It couldn't even be called a path anymore, just a muddy, filthy gulch carved into the hillside by rainwater. Did the Varnamians really come this way? Each time a new initiate was let in on the big secret, they would trek down this hideous footpath, risking injury? No way. It started to seem more and more likely that Holms had lied to save his neck. The abandoned town had proved to be true, but that didn't mean there was a spring too. Exactly what awaited at the end of this grotesque way? Surely not the dung heap of ancient settlers?
I knew I shouldn't have let him go. I've gone soft. 'I have a family', boo-hoo! Who doesn't, you dumb little bastard. I don't care about the laws and contracts, I'll have the man whipped silly once we get back.
The vizier slipped. The soil gave out under his heel and Attiker fell on his back, sliding down the muddy slope without control, certain he would break his leg. However, the trail delivered him to the bottom with almost anti-climactic softness and ease, finally expelling him on a smooth landing.
“What I wouldn't suffer...for the good of my country,” Attiker sighed, climbing back up to his feet and wiped his lap, his coat dyed red-brown with mud all over.
However, what he saw next disgusted him far more than the state of his clothes.
Attiker thought he had slid down the side of a ridge, with the forest continuing as usual ahead. He was mistaken. What he had fallen down in was a large pit, a cylindrical depression at the bottom of the forest. What he stood on was a narrow rock ledge, and a foot or two beneath it was water.
Not simple water.
It was a nauseating pool of filth, deep crimson in color, too turbid to see through. It was as if someone had managed to wound the very earth itself, and this pool was where the drained blood gathered and rotted. There was a weirdly sweet, revolting stench hovering above the fluid. Attiker hadn't been imagining it. The pit was clearly warmer than the air, giving off light steam. There was no telling how deep the water was, or what kind of unpleasant life forms dwelt in it.
“Don't tell me...This?” he looked around in disbelief. “This is the fabled spring? The grand secret those peasants were keeping for all this time? The source of eternal youth? This...this cesspool! This isn't fit for consumption! I can't take even one vial of this shit to his majesty! He'd have my head on a platter!”
—“Oh, you mean he too?”
“What...?”
The vizier turned around.
Behind him, stepping down the trail, was a woman—Itaka Izumi.
“You—what are you doing here?” he asked. “What happened to the knights?”
“Nothing worth writing songs about,” Izumi answered.
Attiker didn't understand. She had to have slipped past them somehow. The flora grew dense here, it wasn't impossible. The alternative, that this woman had somehow carved her way through twenty knights—was absurd. Impossible. No, perhaps they had pitied her and let her through on purpose? The troops had decided to rebel and do away with him, leaving the dirty work to this mercenary? Whatever the truth, the fact was that he now stood trapped between the pool of filth and the murderous woman.
Izumi took off the magnetite vest and the greatsword, dropped them on the ground, and took a step forward. Was she planning to finish things with her bare hands, the vizier wondered and shuddered. Then, she unbuttoned and took off her surcoat too. In a rush, she tore off her shirt next, kicked off her shoes as well.
“W-what are you doing, you mad woman!” The vizier yelled when she started pulling off her pants and underwear. Without answering, now fully naked, Izumi picked up the pace and walked steadily towards the man—and past him.
“Last one in is a rotten egg!” she said and leaped off the ledge, into the red pool.
In horror and dismay, the imperial advisor watched the woman sink into the foul water with a massive splash. She soon surfaced again and wiped her face. The viscous liquid clung to her skin and hair, coloring her completely red, not all that unlike blood. Scooping the water in her palms, Izumi lifted it to her lips and drank it.
“What are you doing!?” Attiker yelled at her, thinking he was going to faint.
“Don't yell like that,” Izumi frowned at him. “See? My feet reach the bottom here. It's safe, just like a hot spring.”
“Who cares about that!? This—whatever it is—it can't be healthy! Isn't that obvious just by looking at it? Why did you drink it, you idiot!?”
“It's not that bad really. Doesn't taste like much of anything. A bit sweet, maybe? It's not blood, if that's what you're thinking.”
“I didn't ask for your appraisal of it!”
“Well, my options are: drink it and get poisoned; don't drink it and die of old age; drink it and nothing happens; or maybe drink it and get young again. I can take those odds.”
“Whatever! Well? Is it working?”
Izumi looked at her hands and observed her body's reactions for a moment.
“It's pretty warm and nice to soak in, but I don't feel anything special...”
“Oh, bollocks! It was a lie. There was no spring of life! Oneiromancers, gatekeepers, divines, ancient cults, all of it lies and legend! Metaphors, smoke and mirrors. We came here for nothing, simple as that.”
“Nothing?”
“That's right, nothing. It was a failure. And I'm leaving.”
“Hey, hey...”
The woman's expression turned serious and she waded back towards the shore.
“I almost changed my mind back there,” she said. “For a moment, I thought there might not be anything bad about growing old. If only you have the right person to grow old with, then a life of peace and quiet might be even better than being an adventurer. It could be better than being young again. But you left me with no choice. If I didn't come here and drink this shit now, she would've died for nothing! She believed in me. To the end, she believed in me. To me, who is nothing, who achieved nothing in life, who wasted her days wishing for the impossible. Had I made different decisions, maybe I could've met her sooner? Had I tried a bit harder, maybe I could've kept it from happening? I can't stop thinking about that, and it hurts.”
Izumi climbed up and strode towards the man. Before the nightmarish vision, Attiker backed up, but she quickly reached him and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat. The strength in her arms forced the man on his toes.
“And for what reason did I lose her? Nothing, he says! So many died getting you here, to this place, and now you say you don't want it? What are you, a baby!? You don't get to give up!”
“I—I have no idea what you're talking about, you lunatic witch! Unhand me!” he shouted at her.
Izumi turned and dropped him on the rock floor with a hip throw. Then, seizing him by the collar behind his neck, she started to drag him towards the water. He tried his best to resist, like a cat being taken to bath, but his hands and feet failed to gain traction on the slippery surface.
“A miracle or not, it's what you came for,” Izumi said. “So take it. Fight for it to the end! Yes. Take it to his majesty or drink it yourself, I don't care.”
“What are you doing, sto—hnnnngggmmh—!”
After reaching chest-deep, Izumi pulled the vizier up, forced him underwater and held him in place. He kicked and struggled, blindly groping for her with his hands, but Izumi held him down firmly, back against her hip and there was nothing he could do.
“Oommhhh——!!”
Large bubbles surfaced in an incessant stream, the remaining air in the man's lungs rapidly depleted. But Izumi wouldn't let go.
“Well? How is it? Drink it all up! Unite mankind, unite the world, rule over all the races, make everybody live forever, anything! I don't care what you do with it! Take it all, every last drop! I'll even cough up what I took, if you want it. Just take it, take it, take it, take it, take it, take it, and give me my Rise back, you bastard—!”
The struggling arms slowly lost tension. The kicks grew sparse and feeble. The bubbles stopped coming. But Izumi wouldn't let go. As if she were a sailor thrown overboard and the vizier a lifebuoy, she gripped him with all her might.
——“He’s gone.”
Izumi was brought back to her senses by a hand gently touching her arm. She slowly released her hold on the imperial, who floated without tension in the murky water.
The woman turned slowly to her right and saw Yuliana standing by her. The look in the princess's crystal-clear eyes was full of pain and compassion, making it heart-breaking to look at. Seeing it, Izumi's anger dissipated at once, and she regained her situational awareness.
“It’s over,” Yuliana said, her lip trembling. “Let's go back.”
“...Okay.”
Izumi followed the girl to the shore. However, she had barely crawled up from the pit, when they suddenly heard a loud voice coming from somewhere above.
“Humans!”
That deep voice filled the entire pit.
It didn't sound like a voice produced by human vocal cords. Turning around, alarmed, the two women looked for its source. And what they saw next made them doubt their eyes.
A large elk walked towards them, straight through the air, as though on invisible stairs. It was a majestic creature, with pale, silvery fur, crowned as the king of the forest with a pair of enormous antlers.
While she didn't know enough to say for sure, Izumi was fairly confident that regular elks in this world couldn't speak human languages any better than those in her own, nor fly. This left only a few options to explain the nature of this fantastic beast.
The Divine of Felorn, the messenger of Hamaran——Matheus, Lord of Streams.
“Um, hello?” Izumi said.
“Hamaran would weep, were he here to witness this day,” the elk spoke, ignoring her. Not that it moved its mouth, the sound had to have been telepathic in nature. “Humans raiding our holy grounds, burning, betraying, slaying, trampling the ancient vows, desecrating all that is pure and good. Answer us now, blasphemers! Why doth thou insist on delivering this evil to us? What hast made Felorn the target of thy boundless corruption? Hast thou ran out of lands to pillage outside? Art there no more beautiful things left anywhere in the world for thee to pillage? Speak! For we doth not understand.”
“Well, I don't know about the others,” Izumi answered, “but I just came here for a drink.”
“Thou sate thy thirst with expensive mead!” the Divine howled. “There is much we can forgive, but not this. Doth thou not see it? Our creator made thy days numbered as an act of mercy! The emiri and goti art forced to carry the ever-growing burden of their years upon them, never to know rest. They go on until the expansive eons crush their spirits and they become torn apart by the horror and despair of existence. From this, humans art spared! Thou art able to meet death in peace and comfort, surrounded by love and thy kin! Thou may leave life before it becomes a curse upon thee, singing its praises until the hour thou expire! Yet thou wouldst discard this priceless gift of thy own will? Envy and ignorance art thy religion, fools! Doth thou have any last words of defense, before I take thee to the netherworlds whence there is no return?”
“Forgive us, Lord,” Yuliana bravely looked up and said, as frightened as she was. “But did you not begin this yourself? Did you not unjustly have your servants attack us, again and again? We were only defending ourselves! Had you left us in peace, none of this would've happened. We had no intention to harm anything in these woods! Please believe it!”
“Lies!” the elk's voice grew louder. “Thou shelter evil in thy midst, deliver Death to our kind! Thou act guiltless and speak gentle words, while hiding abominations behind thy back! Didst thou think we would not see it? Vain child! In our kingdom, nothing may hide our gaze! Thou came to plunder life, but it will only bring thee curses!”
“Please, Lord Matheus!” the princess insisted. “I don't understand! What evil do you speak of? Tell me!”
“Enough of thy deceit! Repent in Death, should thou possess an honest heart!”
“Don't be so angry. It's bad for your heart,” Izumi said.
As nonchalant as she acted, Izumi was far from confident. She had fought various kinds of opponents since coming to this world, and for that, she could tell easily enough that the entity before her now was in a league of its own. The animal hovering in the air, beyond reach, radiated indomitable might, free of mortal weaknesses.
It was neither a man, or a monster—an avatar of a godly power, veiled in ancient, timeless presence.
How was it even going to attack?
There was no way to guess it just by looking at it.
Izumi glanced briefly over her shoulder, at the sword lying on the ground, a few feet away. Would she reach it before she would die? If she were alone, she would try nevertheless. But Yuliana stood by her side. If she made a mistake, losing the girl as a consequence—the thought alone petrified her.
Was there no other way…?
Meanwhile, Yuliana—knelt.
Lowering her head, the princess closed her eyes and spoke,
“Hear me, o' radiant sprite, I beseech thee, the Noon of the White Sun. Become my blade, coat me in thy wings, guard me with thy blessings, bring upon thy foes the purifying blaze. Lord of Light, the keeper of my soul, thy vessel calls thee by thy hallowed name—Aesa Aiwesh.”
“What—?”
Even the heavenly elk was taken aback by the sudden ritual.
But even more surprised it was to see the princess's form disappear in an eruption of pure white light. From that light extended two pairs of large wings and the radiance soon condensed around a different figure, clad in an immaculate white garb.
That sublime vision now stepped lightly up in the air and confronted the elk.
“That visage…?” Matheus spoke. “It cannot be—Aiwesh? Thou yet live?”
“The songs of my death are greatly embellished,” the Lord of Light greeted her sibling with a wide smile. “How do you do, brother? It has been a while.”
“Where hast thou been? The goti have been awaiting thy return for six thousand years. Why didst thou abandon the people of thy god and maker?”
“The old beards were too dull, so I left them,” Aiwesh lightly answered. “Lately, I find myself liking your people better. In fact, I would prefer to have them all for myself. Since you appear to care as much for them as I for my own.”
“What jest is this?” Matheus's confusion only deepened. “Moreover, thou hast taken a human for a vessel? It violates the Covenant! Our kind is not to possess intelligent races—Doth thou mean to make thyself a king among men?”
“Says who? If it was so important, they should have carved it on stone.”
“This chaos, is it thy doing then? Hast thou instigated this crusade against my brethern to sway the humans? Is it to extend the days of thy seduced followers? O', how low hast thou fallen, child of the sun!”
“Why so paranoid? It makes you seem weak,” Aiwesh dismissed his words. “Perhaps you should get out more?”
“What…?”
“You were always so hasty, little brother. Jumping into conclusions before others have finished what they have to say. In that sense, you are indeed much like your humans. I have brought no one here, and I personally could not care less about your little bath tub. But, I did wish to meet you one day, for an unrelated reason. For having that opportunity now, I thank the stars.”
“What reason...?”
Aiwesh floated closer, reached out her hands and gently touched the head of her brother—or his vessel—caressing the great antlers. And then said with the sweetest smile on her lips,
“I would like you to——die for me, brother.”
Suddenly gripping the antlers, the Lord of Light proceeded to break them off the beast's head in a brutal display of force. With its skull shattered, blood gushed out of the animal's head in massive horizontal torrents, spilling over the pool underneath. Discarding the horns, Aiwesh lifted her slim arm and without hesitation stuck it through the opening, into the elk's brain.
“My people, your people, your power—I will take all of it. King among men? Do not be ridiculous. Perhaps you are content playing sovereign over an anthill, but that is not enough for me. Nowhere close. Until the day everything on Ortho lives and dies by my will, I can only count myself among the lowest of beggars.”
The mauled form of the divine beast slowly disintegrated into tiny particles and scattered away, the spirit in it drained by the other. Finished, the bloodied figure of Aiwesh descended back to ground level and faced Izumi.
“You ate your own brother,” Izumi noted.
“I devoured,” Aiwesh answered. “Tell me, how does it feel?”
“Well, I think it's pretty sick, to be honest.”
“Not that, my foolish pet. The water you have ingested.”
“Eh…?”
“I wondered what the fabled spring was like,” the Divine glanced at the pool. “My brother could not have created such a thing, and it did not sound like Hamaran's business either. In all honesty, I did not think it ever existed. But now I see. It is Cinthardia-tree, its sap. There must be one growing nearby. It is spring, after all, so the sap flows thick and escapes any opening. It has mixed into the water in this hot spring, generating a most curious mixture.”
“Sap…?”
Coming closer, Aiwesh's fiery gaze stared through Izumi's naked form.
“I observe changes in your cellular structure. It seems there was some truth to the fairy tale, after all.”
“For real?” Izumi looked at herself, obviously not seeing anything unusual.
“Human cells have a certain mechanism which makes them self-destruct when they have achieved their purpose and can be replaced. The molecules in the sap bond with the cells and disable that timer, allowing them to live indefinitely. Ah yes. Much like the disease called cancer in your world! You have become cancer itself, Itaka Izumi.”
“I'm not sure if I appreciate the comparison...” the woman grimaced. “Doesn't that mean I'm going to die?”
“I think not,” Aiwesh said, looking at her closer. “In preserving the lifespan of your cells, they are also kept from multiplying, so the risk of harmful mutations occurring should be low. It will not restore your childhood, but in a sense, you have attained the longevity you wanted. I suppose we can only wait and see what comes after.”
“So, I'm basically immortal now?”
“Not quite. The toxins and metals already accumulated in your body in your past world will cause your organs to fail in another two hundred years, or perhaps three. Oh, and as your cells are not multiplying at the usual rate anymore, it means your body cannot regrow any lost tissue. Whatever wounds you sustain must be restored with magic. Or you will die.”
“In the end, I can't really tell if this was a good deal, or a bad one...” Izumi furrowed her brows.
“'Nothing in life is free'—is that not how your people say?” Aiwesh replied. “Ah, I have one more thing to share with you, now that I have the chance. So that you would not despair too soon.”
Leaning forward, the Divine spirit reached out her blood-soaked hands and held Izumi's face. It felt like quite a dangerous position to be in, but just how dangerous, Izumi could only guess. She had a hunch, but it seemed like such an outrageous thing to even suggest, that she soon rejected it from her consciousness. Because of that, she only stood still with a blank look on her face, as the Lord of Light leaned forward and—kissed her.
A kiss straight on the lips.
A soft but intense kiss.
A gentle but irresistible kiss.
The Divine relaxed her hold a bit, making Izumi think it was over, but then pulled her back, reaching for the woman's tongue with her own, toying, tormenting, comforting, blending. When she finally let go, Izumi collapsed on the ground, gasping for air, her knees weak.
Aiwesh looked down at her with a playful smile and licked her lips.
“Perhaps my vessel will one day overcome her shame and redeem her promise to you. But until that day, you may consider this an advance payment.”
“My first kiss...” Izumi mumbled. “I had my first kiss taken by a goddess...No one's going to believe it...”
“How many times must I tell you? I am not a god.” Then, growing more serious, the spirit added, “In Grelden, I taught you to read human language. Now, I have taught you to read the language of the gods. I have granted you the resonance of runes. You will still need to learn them, the same as anyone else, but their power may now respond to your foreign spirit. Make good use of this rarer than rare talent. You will need it.”
“Eh…? Um, thanks, I guess?”
“Oh, I have given you much tonight, but there is one last bit of advice I feel compelled to share with you, for your own good.” Her usual ethereal smile returned to the angelic being's lips. “Go find some plain water and wash up. You smell most foul.”
3
Of all the people who had set out in search of the miraculous spring, only two returned to the outpost. A pair of exhausted women. One was a princess, one was not from this world. Yuliana had freed the horses made to pull the barrel cart, and rode one back, Izumi seated behind her. But even if Izumi felt this was a good moment to roll the ending credits, the day and the adventure were both far from over.
They dismounted outside the palisade and walked in through the side gate, where an assembly of knights was ready to receive them. A scout had detected their approach from a distance away, of course. They hadn't tried to hide.
The imperial elite company's numbers had greatly dwindled over the past few days. Not even ten were left standing. The wounded had been carried aboard the wagons, where they struggled with their injuries and fever. But the survivors burned with an intense will to live and return to their homes.
Before the line of spears and bows, the two women stopped.
Neither had the strength nor the will left to fight.
Whatever their fate was going to be, they could only face it.
Colonel Miragrave walked past the line and approached the pair. Looking at their exhausted faces and muddied, bloodied clothes, she asked,
“What became of Attiker?”
“He might've had one barrel too many,” Izumi answered.
“I see,” the woman closed her eyes. “It seems the water of eternal youth was not fit for drinking, after all. I shall pass the news to his majesty.”
“Master...” Yuliana looked at the commander with an apologetic face.
Miragrave turned away and looked north, towards the trees.
“I presume the captain and his men have had their share of the revelries? No, don't say it. The answer is written on your faces. Have you said your goodbyes to Felorn yet? Then, if you don't mind, let us be off without delay. While the day lasts us.”
“...Yes,” the princess nodded.
The knights lowered their weapons.
What had happened in the woods? Even if there were curious minds among them troubled by the question, no one voiced it. What they had seen of the forest so far had thoroughly satisfied their curiosity.
The mission was at an end.