Humans are a funny thing. They laugh, they cry, they whine, and more importantly they die. That is the sad truth, and a truth I find oddly comforting.

Right now, for instance there is one such human digging a long, sharp dagger into my spine. Smiling as if he had accomplished a grand feat.

Am I a monster? Am I a demon? To some I would imagine so. But no, I am just a girl, a girl who cannot die.

So why does he feel so accomplished, why does he smile while burying his cold steel into my back? Because he is human, because he found a new pet to enjoy, a new hobby. And judging from his old, haggard face, a new hope.

So here I hang, in a dark, dripping dungeon. Manacles around my hands, feet barely touching the ground. And a friendly old man, testing the limits of my immortality. Quite funny, now that I think about it. He is going to die long after I do, after all.

I feel the cold steel slowly slip out of my back, and feel the soft flesh slowly start to knit back together. Soon after I can start feeling my toes again, which is always a good sign.

“How do you work?” He mutters, the words hissing and garbled around his rotting teeth.

From what I could tell, for the seemingly eternity I have locked down here, he is trying to research my vitality. Considering he is human, and the fact I had a sharp dagger severing my spine, he isn’t doing this for charity work. Like many others he is just trying to preserve his life, to which I could tell him, isn’t always the best of ideas.

After all, he has a few options.

Option 1 – He slowly dies from old age after unsuccessfully trying to unlock the secret to my immortality. I escape eventually, and pretend none of this ever happened.

Option 2 – He succeeds, I eventually escape, and bury him in a tomb of his own blood and guts. Cursing him to live out his immortal existence in pain and agony. I am after all, usually much stronger. Present circumstances, magic draining manacles and crystals aside.

Option 3 – I escape, and rip out his throat. And that option seems to be more and more likely as time goes by.

You see, despite this old man’s belief. My magic is a bit more complex than what a few manacles and crystals, which were currently lining the walls of my cell, can handle. Sure, they may be able to contain me for a while. But not very long.

And both the manacles and crystals were slowly ending their life expectancy, a few days more, and I shall enjoy the feeling of my nails digging into his skull…or throat. I haven’t particularly decided yet…the eyes are good too.

The old man prods and pokes me with various instruments for a while longer, getting more and more creative with each passing tool, but eventually tires and leaves the room with an audible sigh.

I stretch and strain my back, legs and arms and feel the joints pop with each contortion. Healing so fast does have its downsides. That is to say, healing so fast is incredibly uncomfortable, and leaves bones, muscles and joints quite stiff. A small complaint for an otherwise extraordinary ability, maybe. But there it is.

Soon enough I hear the distinct sound of a metal door closing, and I stretch out my mind, fusing it with my mana. Soon enough, I find each and every crystal that line the walls of my cell. Just like before, they are 24 in all, and filled to the brim with my magic.

It is said that each mage, no matter how weak or strong, has their own type of magic power. They usually hold traits relating to the user. And as I touch the crystals I feel my own.

Riddled with a murky depth of the wild, you can practically taste my age from my mana. It radiates the true nature of the earth – wild, untameable, and a foreboding presence of pure power. Despite that, I wouldn’t call myself the apex of all magicians. In fact, I am limited to one thing, and one thing only...

With an audible crack the crystals start to break, and I smile. It is finally time.

Then I hear a commotion, and break my concentration. Damn, the old man is probably back. I hung there in annoyed preparation that was sure to be another prodding session. He isn’t usually so quick, but I suppose he will be dead soon, so whatever.

No, I realise…past the door of my cell I hear something distinctly different. I hear the sound of heavy armour, and there is only one type of trouble that comes with armour that heavy…

Suddenly, the door to my cell bursts open, and a Knight stand before me, helmet-less, and eyes filled with shock and pity. He approached me carefully, arms slack and loose, his body language screaming ‘I’m not scary, I promise.’

“You are safe now,” he said in a soft but gravelly voice.

Fuck, did I just become a damsel in distress?

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Bustling was a word I would use to describe the scene before me, right now. The kingdom of Etania was one of prosperity and wealth. With various products of trade, ranging from the game of the southern forests and seas to the strange herbal tonics of the illusive northern tribes, we managed to flourish.

One such town I was in was on the border of the Deep Wood of the forests. Known for the strange occurrences that lay within, it was usually deemed as off-limits to the general public. The Guild of Adventurers and Military had both agreed on two main things about the Deep Wood.

Firstly, the beasts contained within were of startling strength, ranging from the mid-ranged B-Class to the almost mythical S-Class the further one wandered in.

Secondly, it was deemed that only those of substantial military accomplishment, or those deemed strong enough by the Guild would be allowed entry, and as such, we had come to investigate some odd reports.

Various villages, including the one I was standing in now, had reported an old man had come seeking supplies. Thinking he was a mere traveller, or perhaps a new resident, various tradesman at their respective village had complied with his requests, even if a little strange. But looking at it from a whole, it was much more disturbing.

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He had commissioned various forms of magic resistant metal from smiths, each in strange shapes, and various stones from the more magical inclined of the villages. All in all, one might assume he was but a mage seeking to experiment various theories, so the villages had overlooked it.

However, those in the capital had not.  Piecing together the various chains, and other metal pieces he had requested, they found something incredibly disturbing. A human sized manacle.

Slavery. The word burned on his tongue, and had long since been outlawed in their country. The first Queen, who the country had been named after, Etania abhorred such practices. Something that most people here related to even today, especially myself.

And so, the military had sent me. As a knight who can hold his own against even the feared S-Class beasts, I was deemed fit to delve into the Deep Wood. As soon as the man had resurfaced not a month before, I was ordered to set out.

I passed through the village, met with awe-filled stares and gasps, and found myself quickly upon the entrances of the Wood. Without hesitation, I quickly crossed the threshold.

I didn't wish to waste any time, and quickly set about finding his last known location. Being occasionally met with a low ranked B-Class monster didn't help any, but he quickly found fresh tracks deep within the forest, unmistakeably made by a human, if he wasn't getting rusty that is.

Picking up my pace, I found myself rushing through the forest, following the tracks as best as I could in my haste to find the slaver scum. Soon enough I arrived at my destination, and found a crude, if not sturdy looking home. Looking above and past the foliage of the forest, he found it to be dusk, and if the lights were anything to go by, the suspect was asleep.

I strode to the shack and briskly knocked on the door, my platemail and rage making my knocks much louder than I should have been. I patiently waited for the man to answer the door, and was shocked instead.

The door literally exploded and blew me back onto the forest floor below. I shifted my weight and managed to roll enough to land on my feet. I looked up and found the man throwing something at my still crouching form.

Bombs.

Dashing to the right as fast as I could I felt the searing heat blast to my side, but otherwise managed to leave me untouched. The man continued to throw a flurry of explosives nonetheless, unperturbed by my dodging. He threw them randomly in my direction, maybe seeking to restrict my movement, or perhaps with mad hope that one just might hit me. Regardless, he left me with one option.

I drew my sword and surged forward to the one location not littered with bombs – him.

With a smooth arcing strike, I cut across his chest, blood spraying along the wall and floor as I found my target. Dropping his non-primed explosives, he wheezed out something, but was unable to speak. Blood flowed from his wound and he collapsed lifeless on the ground.

I expected the man to be stronger than that to survive in this forest, perhaps a mage or old warrior. Then it hit me, despite the almost constant attacks on the way here, the man’s tracks were strangely void of any creature, no matter how weak.

I started searching his body and found various objects. An old bit of jerky, a long serrated knife, and lastly an orb of magic. My whole body told me this orb screamed power, and I imagined belonged to an extremely powerful mage. I had often found that some older, wiser and more powerful mages and warriors reeked of this sort of power. I found that perhaps it could have repelled monster attacks.

I collected the orb and wandered into the man’s home. Searching for anything I could, including a possible slave. Passing what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen, I found something that practically screamed bad - a pure metal door. It stuck out like a sore thumb in an otherwise makeshift home.

As I opened the creaking metal door, I was met with a stone staircase leading downward. I had never like cramped places, too many walls and not enough escape routes. But nonetheless I carried on.

I sheathed my sword and began descending the steps, and quickly found another steel door. Expecting this was where he kept any slaves I opened the door carefully, cautious not to scare anyone should I be right, and I was most certainly right.

There hung a woman, barely in her 20s, dangling from the ceiling. In an attempt to seem as non-threatening as possible I hunch over, with slack arms, as I steadily approach her.

“You are safe now.” I told her.

But strangely she just stares at me with an expression I imagine would be a mix of contempt and amusement. Strange.

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Author Corner

Spoiler :

So this is my second attempt at writing a fiction.

I was tempted to go back and continue trying to write my previous fiction that I dropped, 'The Pale Dragon' but after reading through it, I found two things.

1. I had no idea where I want to go with it.

2. Writing something again you didn't enjoy writing as a hobby is a stupid idea.

Maybe I will go back to it one day. But I want to try writing something a bit different instead, perhaps once I get this going forward a bit more I will go and revisit/possibly rewrite it.

I don't know.

I will try and release one or two chapters every fortnight. I am releasing as I write, so I don't have any stockpiled chapters. So don't expect too much in that regard.

I will add tags as/if they happen.

So here it is. Hope people are interested, leave any feedback/suggestions you may have. Tell me I am a horrible person and deserve to die. Whatever tickles your fancy.