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I felt alive.

Stolen vitality thrummed in my veins, bringing the heat I’d mostly forgotten.

The sensation was so pure, so raw, that I nearly lost myself.

It didn’t matter who I killed. Each harvest returned a shocking, nearly erotic, addicting sensation.

All living were food.

That was what my new power whispered.

Embers of raw lifeforce warmed my hands as long as I used the Soul-Drinker Daggers. Each attack bestowed me a fraction of a feeling I thought irrevocably lost. It was so intense that a part of me was glad that I didn’t indulge in the murders during my stay in Silver Oasis.

The other part regretted the lost opportunity.

I could feel my pale skin turning increasingly pink, even though most of the harvest ended up hidden in precious glass-like orbs.

We mulched through any who opposed us like a blade going through the skin, our opponents stabbed, pierced, broken - be it undead, monsters, or just a man trying to defend his family.

All their souls were thoroughly gnawed on.

Our advance hadn’t gone unnoticed as more undead and monsters appeared, including those blessed with enhanced physiques and magic. I wasn’t sure if it was a conscious effort or a natural reaction to the carnage we had brought.

Anyway, these opponents should be the best of the crop.

The time passed and - caught in the symphony of destruction - we reacted late to the nearby commotion.

A pack of ghouls, not unlike Knut’s subordinates, burst from the nearby house, their crooked teeth still dripping with human blood. It took them seconds to notice our presence before they roared with an animalistic challenge. The meaning was clear - a hunter had noticed its prey and a hunt had begun.

I chuckled.

How wrong they were.

The ghouls started sprinting in our direction on all fours, racing to which one would tear into a tempting snack first.

Humans were equated to food in their tiny minds.

Alas, the quickest was also the first one to die, its head cleanly detached from the neck. I didn’t know if these were the same as Undying but I wasn't taking any chances. It was my common dagger that was used as an executioner’s blade. There was no need to waste my stilettos, the dead tasted foul anyway.

The rest of the enemies lacked the presence of mind to react in time. We cut them one by one, teleporting through the nearby shadows. Soon only two remained, growling at us, with their backs to the wall.

I took a moment to observe them - their withered bodies, bald heads with only a wisp of hair remaining, and bloodshot, animalistic eyes - I took it all in. They wore remains of clothing - simple pants and shirts now stained with blood and piss. Their emaciated faces were filled with crooked teeth, cutting through what once was lips. The tips of their fingers already turned into bone claws, ready to rend and cut.

With a sigh, I realized that these were natural-born undead - the necromancers did not raise them but rather they appeared when a starving human committed one of the taboos. Cannibalism, in this case.

Had the situation in the Geinard Kingdom really turned so dire that a man had to feast on his fellow man?

With a scoff, I ordered the kobold to finish these damned souls and soon their snarls and growls turned into whimpers and then faded into blessed silence. The only sound remaining was the crackling of the fire devouring the surrounding buildings.

As I contemplated our next steps a group of disheveled humans ran into the burning square.

They stopped moving as soon as they saw me, their hurry forgotten. Some whimpers and prayers could be heard from the mob. Was I really that scary?

Surprisingly that thought didn’t bring me discomfort.

The desire to harvest them grew in my mind, before deflating.

This bunch was pitiful and weak. Their clothes were singed from fire and turned black or gray from the coal smudges. Many of them carried children and the elderly, even with the carriers' gaunt and desperate faces pointing to the beginning stages of starvation. They stopped, wide-eyed at the sight of butchered bodies surrounding me. There was a yelp when my kobold attendant appeared from the nearby shadows.

It was funny.

Despite their apprehension the group still tried to move, the howls of monsters coming out from behind them adding desperation to what might’ve been otherwise a foolish courage.

“Lady Death, please spare us.”

“Spare the young ones, at least, Lady Death.” They begged while bowing, their feet never stopping - like a starved many-legged centipede. Even so, their pleading eyes never left my face.

“Lady Death, please!”

“Go.” I sighed, feeling uncomfortable with the cries of the weak, and instead focused on those hunting them. The monsters were trained, and well-fed. Surely a tastier treat than this bunch of refuse.

With me moving out of the way the humans redoubled their ministrations, before quickly disappearing from my sight - or so I thought.

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My attention was grabbed by their hunters instead.

Uncomfortably quickly a band of monsters appeared in hot pursuit. Their leather-clad bodies bristled with muscles, aggression, and killing intent, many of the rank-and-file soldiers carrying bloodstained weapons and armor.

Some of the items still had Geinard Kingdom's heraldry attached.

These new foes were humanoid creatures, at least mostly. Their rippling bodies and mouths filled with fangs made identification a banal task. They were called orcs. They seemed a bit different from the standard description. Less bestial and more human-like, similar to how Uno’s beastkins looked and felt. Amongst their ranks were some dog-like monsters - surely trained to track their enemies by smell or blood.

Leading them was a somewhat larger and more muscular orc, clad in a filthy robe. His skin was covered in black-inked tattoos. Unlike the ordinary weapons of the soldiers, their leader carried a staff fitted with a shrunken head and adorned with some feathers.

Despite its crudity and the barbarism of its make, I could sense some sinister magic dwelling inside.

Overall the twenty or so monsters arrived at the square, their faces filled with disgust at the sight of splattered ghoul remains. It seemed like the undead were universally hated by the living, monster or not. Their attention snapped to my figure as soon as I started my walk toward their lines.

They weren’t in a proper formation but there was some primitive thought given, with shieldbearers staying at the front, and spearmen bunched up in the back. This illusion of civilization quickly dispersed though, as their shaman-like leader roared.

“Dead kill dead! We kill dead too!”

Weird. Monsters rarely spoke in civilized languages. None I had fought in the past cared enough to learn them. It wasn’t the end of surprises, though. A weirdly intelligent voice came from the crowd. “Is this one dead, boss? She looks weird. We shouldn’t be killing other monsters. The boss’ Boss said so.”

The leading orc grinned. “If the not-dead is alive then we make her dead and everything works out! We kill dead! Charge!”

““CHARGE!”” His soldiers repeated, eyes full of glee and bloodlust.

I chuckled.

Their stupidity was somewhat charming… but there was still killing to be done. I nodded to the kobold, and he grinned back.

“Yes, Mistress, I know. I’ll kidnap the smart one, while you get some exercise.”

“Good.” A servant who understood his master so well was a blessing.

The shadows churned as I stepped through, appearing behind the enemy lines. My body twisted, as the daggers reaped soul after soul. Surprisingly, the frontline immediately turned, their tower shields and various weapons bristling in my direction.

There was no panic, no fear, just a desire to see me killed.

I answered their laughs with my own savage grin.

The fight devolved into a deadly dance, a hunt. It’s a bloody ceremony where I cut, stabbed, and bashed my victims, bathing in their fluids and a cacophony of screams.

A grunt of pain, when the hand was separated from the arm.

A squeal, when I gouged an eye.

A cry, when a bone broke under unreasonable force.

A whimper, when my dagger cut a deep furrow into skin, muscle, and fur.

A last forlorn sigh, when the stiletto plundered the soul of a monster and its life.

And my own moan and tremble, when the delicious lifeforce filled me up.

Alas, anything good had to end, as I was reminded when the buildup of dark mana from the shaman leader started to grate on my nerves. It felt wild, and dirty, like a vulgar song cradled on the winds of mana. The last few treats crawled away in fear, their earlier hubris thoroughly crushed, just like their arms and legs. The chant I intentionally ignored grew noisier and more irritating.

The orc leader wasn’t laughing anymore, instead, he focused on casting his magic - from what I could tell it was some kind of a large-scale attack.

Fool.

Didn’t he understand that his guards were no more?

Even as darkness gathered in his palm I teleported nearby, the everpresent flame creating easy-to-traverse shadows. And, just before the last words of the chant were spoken, and the spell unleashed - I struck.

The dagger cut through his throat, turning the words into a gurgle.

He still stood defiant, full of hate, as both his magic and life slowly trickled out, while he tried to stem the bleeding. His hands turned crimson long before the light left his eyes. Then my attention turned toward the only unharmed survivor.

The orc was smaller than his peers, but also denser, creating a rather comical sight. He twitched nervously, observing his surroundings, as my kobold retainer kept a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to kneel.

After glaring at the monster I nodded in appreciation.

My retainer - as always - understood the intention.

“So, piggy, why did you attack us, huh?” He spoke in a threatening tone.

“I… I…”

“You will tell me everything, don’t worry about it. We’re going to be the bestest of friends.” Then, noticing my stare, the kobold coughed. “Erm… Mistress? It seems like humans left you a… gift.”

He pointed away and I noticed that indeed, there was someone alive amongst the ruins.

A girl remained, or more likely had been left behind by the escaping group. She looked about eight or maybe ten years old. It was hard to tell due to how thin she was… the grime didn’t help either. The girl wore a once-white one-piece dress and carried a crude, wooden doll in her hand. She stared at us, her eyes devoid of fear, deadened by the things she had seen.

I tilted my head questioningly but the kobold only shrugged. It was the girl who spoke.

“Dad left. Then Mom. To find food. They never came back. Auntie took me away from home. To meet them.” She spoke calmly, even when her bare feet were cracked and bleeding. “Uncle said I’m useless. Better left to the monsters. A bribe.”

Her eyes were clear blue, unblinking.

“A cool monster is better than the deadies. Or the gross ones.” She made a face. A first expression since I had met her. “Are you going to eat me?”

I could only stare.

The thoughts I refused, the revenge I was living for, it all swirled in my head.

Questions.

How old my sisters would be if they weren’t thrown away like trash? How would their life end up? Would they also be sacrificed for the good of the Kingdom? To save others because they were “useless”?

A cold rage overtook me. I squashed it down.

I wanted to run back and slaughter these refugees. Splatter their blood on the walls. Those who left a child as a sacrifice to a monster, to pay with her life for their passage should be punished.

So says the monster.

“Name.” A word came out of my mouth scratchingly.

“I’m called Maria, pretty miss.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So. Are you going to eat me or not?” Maria asked without a shred of interest.

I shook my head.

“No.”

There was another bout of silence.

“So… she’s going with us, right, Mistress?” My retainer grinned before quickly adding. “And before you ask - no, I’m not going to eat you either, little one.”

“Mister?” Marie turned to the captured orc.

The monster coughed.

“I would gla-...” Before he finished my kobold smacked him on the head. A warning, just enough to draw blood. “Gladly carry you, young miss. No eating, I swear.”

The girl looked disappointed.

It seems like I picked up a troublesome one.