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Gilgamesh [Grimdark LitRPG]
Book 3: Mercy [Part 2]

Book 3: Mercy [Part 2]

We ran for a few minutes before continuing at a controlled ambling pace. To go at a run in a place such as this would be inviting trouble. Predators had a habit of being drawn to running prey and it would draw attention to us. Though the encounter with the hateful woman had yielded few gains in experience, I had received a point in Constitution for surviving what probably were two near-fatal blows. Who would have known? Perhaps I had made a mistake in focusing on just being able to absorb damage. All it meant was that I would just die slower, I thought bitterly. I resolved to invest some points in some of the more offensive attributes on my next level up.

Eventually, we reached what a somewhat shaken Theo referred to as home. It was a makeshift structure, cobbled together from random pieces of wood and assorted debris, barely resembling a lean-to shack.

“So… thanks for earlier mister ser. For saving me! That was a fight like the stories!” the small girl piped. She continued to blabber on for a bit in incredulous thanks, but I simply nodded in return. I wanted this day over with.

“Before I go in, who, or what, was that?” I breathed.

“That’s prolly the Monster… they say you don’t see her and get to live,” she answered fearfully. I could even hear the distinct capitalization. “Say, like, it kills the unfortunate. Some folk ‘round here have been calling it Mercy on because that it’s like a mercy if you… or something.”

“If that was Mercy… then I am Justice,” I proclaimed, trying to comfort her. Even as the words left my lips, I couldn’t help but cringe. Very off-brand. Oddly, I sort of felt responsible for her and though the words were in half-jest, they felt sort of right. Something approved.

The shelter seemed precarious, as if it might collapse at any moment. Yet, when little Theo pulled aside a piece of cloth that served as the door, she gestured grandly for me to enter, her smile beaming with misplaced pride.

“Theo…” a woman’s weak voice called from within.

“I brought help, Mama,” the little girl offered back.

The last dregs of an early evening’s sun filtered through the many holes and cracks of the shelter, creating a sort of half-gloom. The stench of disease, stewed for too long, hung in the air like the notes of an overplayed song. Lying on the pallet was a woman ravaged by what I assumed to be disease. I drew a sharp breath in disgust. Sores and pustules ran across her arms and face, and her eyes were rheumy and almost unseeing.

Seeing my reaction, she smiled sadly. For all of her disfigurements, when she smiled I saw the clear familial resemblance to Theo. The woman lifted an arm, pointing to their collection of meager things.

“Theophania, remember… your manners, give our… guest some water at least,” she said faintly, a hint of stern iron in her voice. I saw in her the pride of the poor.

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“Yes, Mama!” Theophania exclaimed, whizzing off happily. In almost record time she produced a dirty and chipped cup and a vase full of dubious water.

With a certain seriousness, Theo poured water into the cup as if it were the finest of wines. When she finished, she bowed in a courtly manner and offered me the cup. The moves were rehearsed, like a stage play.

“My thanks to you for your hospitality,” I replied in turn, giving her a curt nod. In the formal way, I held the cup in both hands and raised it to my lips, pretending to drink from it.

“Leave… us now, Theo. Keep a lookout in case the bad men come. The gentleman… and I have things… we must discuss,” the sick woman commanded.

With one last curious look shot in my direction, she parted the cloth of the entrance and left their humble abode.

“Thank you… stranger. My name is Elenora… to whom do I speak?” she managed to get out, before she was overtaken by a fit of coughing.

“Gilgamesh is my name in these lands,” was my reply. Automatically, I sat down by her crude pallet to better hear her words.

“Your answer… leads to more questions. A man of mystery. But… I am growing tired. There is some money over there,” she pointed weakly at the corner. “Not a lot… but enough to see for my funeral rites. You have a look about you…” she paused, drawing a weak breath. “ I did not actually think that Theo would succeed in finding someone willing to help. I had sent her off to find Mercy so I could be alone while I took poison. An end for both of us. We are a pitiable pair. Me, most of all, for being a coward and clinging onto this worthless life. But perhaps something can be saved from our failure. Ah, a Copper badge, you must be an Adventurer, yes?”

“Yes, I am. And you, you are a sick creature to send a child off like that.”

She avoided my eyes, instead focusing on my badge. “Who are you to judge me? That badge proclaims that you have killed, too, like Mercy. Every day I have prayed for deliverance. Then I… ask you… please end my life,” she pleaded.

“Are you sure that is your wish?” came my frank response.

Temptation clouded my mind as my hands sought to wring out what little life was left in her, just for the experience. It was not every day that something was served up to me, meager though it might be. A twisted part of me even whispered that it would be rude not to accept. Also, it would be a form of justice for Theo.

I shook my head in denial.

“Please… I lack the strength to take even my own life,” she rasped, before another round of coughing overcame her.

I felt angry. Anger at myself. Anger at the world. “My hand will save,” was my stern response. In an almost sympathetic reaction, Entropic Aura burst out of me, uncontrolled.

It was too late to hold it back, and I wished to experiment. It was as unstoppable as the urge that compels someone to throw a stone into a calm pond, just to witness the disruption—the expanding ripples, the aftermath. What would happen if light intertwined with darkness? I commenced the Greater Heal spell, feeling its threads resist my call as though coerced. The pure melody of righteousness emerged. Chords of light clashed with the waves of gray and funereal black. Strands of gold managed to interweave, morphing into a new liquid bronze. The normally vibrant auric gold faded, becoming as muted as the evening’s light.

As if in complaint, the textures of the world failed to load properly, morphing into strange shapes and anomalies. My vision glitched as the world turned monochrome before color returned. Was this spell bugging out the world? An error that could be exploited?

For a brief moment, I believed I was on the brink of uncovering an irreverent and unholy truth. However, that insight slipped away as the spell took effect on the woman.