OK, extra chapter since I was free today.
Blood and gore warning? Though, I suppose if you've read this far, you're already used to it...
Don't worry, there will be fluffy chapters in the future! Yay!
Anyways without further ado.
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D1C13 - Tails
The tent flaps open, and the inside of the tent is sprayed with blood.
I blink in bewilderment.
Where there had been three men, there were now three bodies with holes where the heart was. One by one, they slump onto the ground half their torso inside the tent. With no heart to maintain the pumping and blood pressure, their blood drips out instead of squirting in rhythm. Their blood pools around them.
The tent flap flutters slightly as it falls back down. It does not close fully with the bodies in the way.
I can see their faces, glassy eyes in a frown with lips still pulled back in a snarl. I had not a single shred of sympathy for them. Even when I was back on Earth, I had long since understood the concept of eat or be eaten. Admittedly, I did most of the eating but there was no shortage of people who wanted to one up the “prodigy”. Even as a genius, I had to fight for my place, there was no shortage of talent around, I was only slightly more talented than others.
Even this place was a dog eat dog world. In the words of my ever wise, all-knowing grandpa. “A half-baked heart will only ruin you, sympathy will get you backstabbed and mercy will be the death of you. In family you can trust, in love you doubt. In friends you mistrust, with comrades there will be no doubt.” In this world, these words were ever more so, there was no Geneva Convention for human rights to make things nice and safe for you, there were no police that would arrive barely in the nick of time to save you. In the wild, you fought and you lived, or you fought and you die.
These men were trying to get me, so I had no problem with their deaths. Had I been anything else in my past life, I would’ve thrown up at the sight of the holes and all the blood. As it were, I had seen worse. I’m sorry but you’ll have to do better than that to make me puke. Of course, that doesn’t count the carriage ok? That thing is a monstrosity. It should be destroyed at the earliest convenience.
Leaning and moving about, I repositioned myself to get a better look out my peek-hole. The gigantic silhouette of a woman with 9 tails appeared. The shadow move towards the tent flap and it raised. My moms beautiful face popped into existence as she came over to where I was hiding. With my moms beauty and the peek-hole I was viewing her through, I had the vague sense that I was somehow committing a crime. I laughed off the thought. They call beautiful woman vixens and my mother was one, in the truest sense of the word.
The top of the basket was lifted and my mother brought me out of the basket with her slender hands. I don't know how it works but she gave me frowning smile. A frown at the fact that I had slightly damaged her favourite clothes basket and a smile at the fact that I was safe. It was somewhat ridiculous in context that both me and my mom was smiling at the moment, me because I had just escaped death. My mom because she had just eviscerated 3 men in a mere instant. She gave me the once over to make sure I was fine and then switched to holding me with one arm. As she made the shift, I realised what killed the men as I saw the blood on the tips of her tails that were swishing to and fro.
It was absolutely entrancing, I wonder if I too, would one day, grow tails like my mother. I may sound somewhat bloodthirsty, but it is a given fact that you need strength to survive in the world, either personal strength or otherwise. Of course, I could not even control my own single one at the moment so being able to gut and rip the hearts out of men in an instant was merely a pipe dream, as attractive as that sounds. I felt like there was something wrong with that statement, but I didn’t mind it. Once again, the rational Diana had concluded that the scent of blood had stimulated my animal half making me think bloodthirsty thoughts, but I paid no attention to her. Always so prim and proper. Hmph!
My mom held me close as she rummaged for something in the basket with her free arm. It took her the entirety of 5 seconds to find what she was looking for. She proceed to then wrap me up in some kind of blanket thing and then wrap the rest around herself. Eventually, I was stuck to her back nice and tight thanks the the baby wrap. Her arctic white hair was flecked with blood splatters here and there. However, because her hair was braided, there was no loose hair to blow into my face and tickle me. My head was free to turn and look around and I was high enough to look over her shoulder somewhat but my hands and feet were tightly wrapped.
After checking and double checking to make sure I was 100 percent secured to her back, she went to the corner to the tent for some satchel. Opening it, she checked its contents. Looking over her shoulder, I was able to see a bunch of red and blue vials along with a map and several pieces of food. She then open the chest that the satchel was located on top of. Opening it, I could see a whole ton of blue vials. With deft hands, she transferred the vials to the satchel. Once she confirmed the contents, she slung it over her shoulder and went to the other corner of the tent. Here a silverish bow and a quiver of white feathered arrows lay. With a belt, she secured the quiver just under me, to the small of her back. Grabbing the bow, we left the tent.
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Outside the tent was a chaotic scene. The sounds of battle had faded from my mind when my mom arrived. I was so taken with her arrival that I hadn’t really noticed anything else. Now that we had exited the safety of the tent, the full extent of the battle could be seen. Whoever coined the phrase, “War is simply controlled chaos” really knew their stuff. Some tents were on fire, their flickering flames casting devilish shadows on the ground. Around us, there was a whirlwind of fights happening. Some were one on one. In other cases, men were being ganged up, two against one or three against one was not uncommon as each man searched for an advantage in battle. And what better advantage was there than strength in numbers?
My mom took a look around the tumultuous battlefield and seemingly decided on a course of action. She began running in a certain direction but I was too confused to tell where we were heading. I wasn’t able to tell what was going on at all. The flickering light of the flames made me dizzy and the disconcordant sounds of clanging metal and shouting gave me a very disorderly feeling. Although, I suppose I have to get used to this if I am to take part in battle in the future. Of course, I could alway just be the pretty princess and get married to some rich fool and live a comfortable life, but where would the fun be in that?
(AN: More like, where would be the story in that! Not that I’m knocking on politics stories with female mcs lol)
A soft breeze sifted through the air, shifting the scent of the battlefield around. I could smell the pungent odours of sweat as our men fought on. The ashes from the still burning fires tickled my nose, but in the end, the most heavy smell was that of blood. Thick and thin, fresh and congealing, blood was everywhere on the battlefield. I saw soldiers who had won their fights taking a short respite drink half of a red vial and pour the remaining half onto their wounds. They magically knit back together and the soldiers would then throw themselves back into the fight with a fresh scream, getting new wounds and spilling fresh blood.
This scene was one that I saw happen everywhere around us. My mom walked briskly, advancing steadily and surely in her chosen direction. I watched on from over her shoulder as she calmly nocked, aimed, and loosed arrow after arrow at whoever dared charge at her. None of her arrows ever missed and whilst she wasn’t able to kill every enemy with a single arrow, she never let a single one live. Some, seeing her skill with archery, turned and ran but even they were not spared. A quick arrow always found its way to the back of their skulls.
At those who decided to fight, she would aim for their heads at first. If it bounced off the helmet should they be wearing one, she would then aim at the knees. Once they were crippled, she would put an arrow through their throats as they fell. Making them gurgle in pain, not even giving them the chance to say “I used to be an adventurer until...”
If their fallen bodies were in the way she would take a few seconds to extract the arrows with one of her tails. Often, It would make a “smuck” sound as her tail ripped the arrow from the flesh. Without even giving the blood a chance to dry, she would then nock, aim and loose the arrow at another enemy. Even so, despite her amazing rate of aimed shooting, every now and then an enemy would get close before she could put them down with her arrows.
That wasn’t a problem at all. Instead of doing something inelegant like hand-to-hand combat, she would simply use her tails to either whack their heads with such force that they were instantly beheaded with a sharp crack or thrust the tip of her tails into their chests, completely destroying the heart, leaving a hole in the torso. Armor and helmet didn’t do a damned thing, my moms tails went through the enemy like a hot knife through butter.
Sometimes, as if for giggles, she would would swipe and break the legs of the more belligerent ones, especially the ones who scream their battle cries loudly which then made me cry a bit. My mother only needed one or two tails to whack and stab everything that came her way, so she would use the remaining tails to stab several holes into their bodies. Which would then make me giggle in mad glee.
Sometimes, they would call her a monster and scream and beg for their pathetic lives. Hah! you were the ones who decided to attack. Mercy is for the weak. Die. Vaguely I wondered why she didn’t just let them all run at her and behead them all instead of shooting them with arrows. Then I realised that every time she used her tails, some blood would splatter onto her despite her best efforts at using her tails to block the blood.
I guess my mother didn’t fancy the prospect of being drenched in blood. Even us ladies have standards. It was a efficient way to kill someone but it was no doubt very messy. I was glad I had water magic, in the future, when I learnt my mom’s tail whacking technique, I would make a screen of water so that no blood would splatter onto me when I beheaded and heart-ripped my enemies. Rational Diana shakes her head at my bloody thoughts and tells me that I have been corrupted but what can I say? It’s an absolutely genius plan. Absolutely bloody genius.