All her life, she had been sulking in the shadows. Her blood lust and volatile nature led her into numerous scuffles with others of her kind, forcing her to hone her combat techniques to defend herself from the chaos she got into and this transformed her into a battle-frenzied maniac.

She had barely made friends with sentient life, as her title as royalty forced her to socialise with others of her kind. Not many times had she thought of making real friends, as she was used to the life of lies, war and fallacy. She had long forgotten the ideals of getting along with weaker races.

A life where she did not have to hide in the shadows? A pathetic dream. Instead, she embraced her flaws and used them to her advantage — pushing herself down the path of carnage. Even now, she found it difficult to make peace with herself and all the innocent lives she had claimed.

She had long accepted her inability to gain peace as retribution for her sins. Vysla chuckled with her head bowed, her eyes watering up. After a few seconds, she raised her head, her gaze locked upon Mark. She wanted to crawl back into the darkness, but couldn’t move. She did not understand why she was tearing up, she had to dispose of this waste… she had to—!

Mark watched her calmly. He didn’t know what was going on in her head, but he could see her in a lot of pain. He was curious, but he maintained his stance. In this confused state she had put herself in; any idiotic acts he made would be dangerous.

Vysla collapsed to her knees, tears welling up in her eyes as she bowed her head. She could not arrange her thoughts anymore, the images of everything she had lost flashed in her heart and She tried to laugh it all off, holding back the warm tears. Never in her life had someone extended their hand towards her, not even her parents no matter how hard she struggled around them.

She was nothing but another killing machine. There would never be happiness or peace in her life as long the lives of the people she killed continued to haunt her. Even her parents treated her as nothing more than a political tool of destruction. She grew up to believe in all of that; to believe that there would never be peace in her soul… Didn’t she?

Vysla felt a hand rest on her head, and she froze. She couldn't even raise her head to look up at this person. He petted her head, and she clenched her fists tight, her arms vibrating. She was never going to fall prey to her own inconveniences — since time immemorial, she’d accepted the madness.

If she could live like this among others, she could finally take a breather and enjoy all the things she never did — all that she always envied others enjoying so happily. She could finally settle down and figure out a way to gain peace. Even if she had to keep killing or give her life to another.

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Feeling his hand on still her head, Vysla frowned. She wondered if he was trying to console her, and if she should feel consoled. She wiped her tears, cleared her throat calmly, and he withdrew his hand, then stepped away from her. She stood up with her face as dry as the Sahara, frowning as she knitted her brows, “If I do not kill you now, what would happen to me?”

Mark remained in his defensive stance, ready to pull out his sword at any moment, wondering if she had truly surrendered to his towering might and charisma, giving in to his promise of peace. He no longer had the drive to drag out this fight any longer. She was too overpowered to finish off now.

Mark stared at Vysla, and they locked their gaze in silence. What were they supposed to do now? Shake hands? Should they look away and act as if they hadn't been trying so hard to kill their selves?

“I guess we should call a truce? I could apologise for attacking you earlier, and I don’t need your forgiving pity, but… I want you to help me understand this world.” Vysla forced a fake smile, she was an extremist in wearing perfectly fake expressions. Honed from mastering years in the craft.

Mark blinked, and then he held out his left hand to Vysla. She stared at his hand then stretched out hers for a handshake. Mark accepted her hand calmly, it was not as cold as he expected, from a guy literally shaking hands with a dead body’s perspective.

"I promise to try my best not to attack anyone here, as far as you help me in retire. The moment I grow accustomed to this world, we can finalise what we put to a pause here. Do you agree?" Vysla’s eyes lit up as she stared into Mark’s, expectant of his reply, somewhat.

“I agree.” It wasn't going to be anything difficult right? Mark would act as a guide like how Balder had done for him when he first arrived here. He would take this job seriously, as the lives of many were involved — and well, he wanted to use this opportunity to learn all he could to know this life form he had encountered. To better myself as a hunter, of course. Yes. Most definitely.

They broke their handshake, and Vysla stepped away from Mark. She looked around, seemingly wondering what else she could do apart from dashing after him with killing intent. Inside the room was too small for her to practice her techniques, and she could not wander outside in this state. As Vysla looked around, she caught a small ball of silver fur on the bed.

She could not sense any life from there, but something felt weirdly odd about this little ball and she decided to approach it cautiously. Just as she was about to check it out close up she heard Mark approaching the door and then she turned to check with her brows narrowed.

Mark reached the door and dragged it open violently.

There was a stunned yelp, and then with a crash as the figure leaning on the door crashed to the ground before Mark on all fours. It was the 'visitor' from earlier, and, to Mark and Vysla, she had not left the premises after being coldly chased out. Instead, she decided to stand outside and eavesdrop.

She was leaning on the door until Mark sensed her presence. Mark who noticed this, was not impressed by her nosy behaviour and detected a level of threat associated with this behaviour.