Chapter 11: Faces in the Dark.

“Come on, come on, come on.” Nero whispered, practically glaring at his right hand in the process. Still, the familiar bright magic didn’t coat it with its reinforcing light. Only flickered and died.

The sounds were getting closer now, and Nero was running out of options. He could run or stand his ground like a man.

Nero was five steps into his fleeing sprint when a voice called from behind. “Relax, it’s just me.” It said.

He turned to see Selvas, purple eyes weighing him like ever and with a compound bow in her hands.

Relief flooded Nero, and then embarrassment. He smiled. “Oh, hello. Nice to see you again Selvas.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Is it? Or are you going to beat me up too?”

Nero winced. “Ah, you heard about that.” Of course she did, the fight took place in the middle of the street. “I’m terribly sorry about the way I acted.” He replied, sincerely.

His words seemed to glance off of her. “Mmhmm.” She hummed, then thankfully moved on. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Monster Hunting.” Nero explained.

She eyed him. “You don’t seem to be doing too great at it.”

“I do not.” Nero agreed, biting back the frustration of his recent failure.

“And yet you took down a Mother Spinner all on your own?” Selvas asked and the question hung in the air.

Nero decided he didn’t like talking to this woman. She was far too intelligent not to be dangerous, and he had enough danger around him already. Still, he couldn’t just tell her to fuck off, that would be rude and more suspicious than any answer he could actually give to the question she asked.

“I’m having a bad day, and like I said last time, I nearly died in that fight.” He replied with a noncommittal shrug. “I’m Nero by the way.” He said.

“Well, hello Nero.” She nodded. Selvas stepped forwards, taking note of the ground and seeming to spot details that Nero couldn't even begin to identify. “You were fighting a Sin Spinner here.” She mused.

“Not well, but yes.” He nodded.

Selvas’s eyes fell back on him, it was clear she was thinking about something but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. “I’m tracking a squad of outlaws, they’re wanted dead or alive. I could use your help, Nero.”

Well, he hadn’t actually humoured the idea of hunting humans. On one hand it seemed an absolutely barbaric thing to do, and on the other hand it would be objectively far less terrifying than his encounters with the beasts he’d come to expect from these woods.

Still, there was something uniquely disconcerting about hunting down another person.

“It pays five azure per person.” Selvas explained.

Well, with such a sound and philosophical argument placed before him, Nero couldn’t imagine refusing to aid the woman. “Of course, lead the way.”

Selvas did, and Nero followed.

Much of the day’s journey was a silent one, Selvas unlike Gunther was not at all one for conversation. Instead she focused more on keeping note of the woods and what may lurk within them. Nero appreciated the silence, but also found himself chafing at it.

Conversation was how he might be able to needle out what Selvas suspected about him. Has she been watching me? How long has she been watching me? Did she see me Light Breathe?

That last one was without a doubt the most important question, and it hung over Nero like a guillotine blade. At this point it was safe to assume Light Breathing might be an ability unique to him or the ‘God of Hell,’ which meant anyone actually seeing him train in public with it might as well have been told his identity outright.

Nero couldn’t imagine a scenario worse than that, he also couldn’t imagine a worse person to potentially have that information than one he just couldn’t get a read on.

How he usually understood people was often through finding a correlation between what they did and didn’t react to. If he wanted to know if a person knew more than they were letting on, he would base a structured story around a lie and if they poked and prodded it in an unnatural way then he had reason to suspect they already knew the truth.

If it sounded elementary, that was because it was. Most effective tactics were, in fact, the only reason why most people thought otherwise was because people who used them effectively liked to inflate their own achievements in the eyes of the public.

The difference between the best woodworker in the world and a middling one wasn’t the tools they used but how they used them. And Selvas just didn’t react to any which way he carved into her.

He knew she was suspicious of him, that much was clear but the exact reason could be anything, from the fact that he was a stranger who appeared out of nowhere outside her town to her seeing him use forbidden magic in person.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Both of those required very different solutions.

And what would your solution be if she found you out? Nero didn’t want to think about that so he focused on other things, such as how much better at survival Selvas was than him.

The woman hunted better with her bow, taking down prey that Nero had long since decided were far too swift for him to have any hope of catching.

The speed with which her arrow took off from her bow finally confirmed his theory that runes did in fact add enhancements to objects. In this case her runes likely made the bow more powerful than would naturally be possible, even with the mechanics, it wasn’t by much, but enough that its the speed and power behind her arrow looked unnatural to his new keen eye.

The ease with which she was able to cut up meat and slice through bone with her runed dagger had Nero deciding that the effect its runes had was making the blade sharper. Again, not by much, but Nero supposed every edge counted in Hell.

Selvas could make camp too, and make it well. No more waking up to the feeling of worms wriggling up his skin.

It felt emasculating really, he was a man so by law should have been better than her at manly things. Had he ever gone camping before? No. Had he ever studied the wilderness before? No. Did he have any experience with survival training in his life? None at all.

Still, it didn’t sit right with him and he silently let himself critique Selvas’ knot tying technique.

Hmm, yes, it’s supposed to be a lefty loop not a righty one, a professional camper would know.

“Are you going to sit there nodding like an idiot, or are you going to help me?” Selvas asked.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Nero nodded. “What can I do?”

“Help me tie the other end.” She said, gesturing to the rope on the other side of her tent.

He walked over and held the length of rope between his fingers and began to tie it around a tree. He could do this, he could certainly do this, he’d faced off against Sin Spinners and Face Eaters and all other kinds of horrors, he could tie a simple length of rope,

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Selvas groaned.

“Tying the ro-”

“That’s not how you do it.” She sighed, walking over, undoing Nero’s knot and tying an intricate one in its place. The woman talked as she worked. “You’ve got to make it easy to undo with a pull yet unlikely to come off on its own, that way you can pack up quickly if need be but aren’t at risk of it all falling apart in the middle of the night.”

“Huh.” Nero nodded. “Noted.”

“And you somehow survived here all on your own?” Selvas asked, voice sounding incredulous.

“Luck?” Nero said feebly.

“Luck.” The woman echoed. There wasn’t really a way to come out of that line of questioning unscathed unless he made up a companion who died helping him through it. Somehow that felt a little cruel to do, but it was the fact that it would be another lie to juggle around that actually had him hesitating.

“Who taught you?” Nero asked.

He hadn’t expected the woman to tense at the question and for a moment Nero thought he had somehow fucked up yet again. Something told him the issue was on her end not his however. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry.” He said. “The way you explained it, it was like you’d heard someone say it before and you were repeating it from memory.” He explained. It was either that or she’d taught this lesson. Speech patterns were often like footprints in the mud and when they changed it was likely a reflection of something in the person.

“I was repeating it from memory.” The woman concured, and it was a rather odd thing to see her seem if only for a moment unguarded. Her purple eyes still held the winter’s cold within them, but it seemed like at least there was a path into that frigid tundra. “My father taught me.” She finished.

Nero urged the conversation on, it was his first insight into this woman. And only hope of assessing if she knows your secret or not. “Ah, did he also teach you how to make those bows?”

The woman blinked. “Yes.” Her eyes narrowed. “You know, for a man who’s so shrouded in mystery, you ask a lot of questions.” Suspicious as always, but it doesn’t seem to be with any particular line of questioning. That was a good sign.

Nero shrugged. “I’m Inquisitive.”

“I noticed.” She nodded, heading over to the campfire she’d made, sitting on a log and roasting a piece of meat above the open flame.

“So.” Nero continued. “He was a Damned then?”

The woman froze, eyeing Nero again. “Yes.” She said, a silent question hung in the air.

Nero chose to answer it with honesty. “The composition and make for your bow, it’s really advanced, no other hunter I saw in the market had anything like it.”

Selvas seemed to relax a little at the question. “Yes, he’s from the other world.” She nodded. “Turned into a thrall and forced into obedience by a Demon Lord.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Nero said. That meant people from earth in this world could have an impact on its technology. The fact that it still looked so primitive was likely out of design by the Demons. Keep them unable to develop technology so they’re less dangerous and keep them from reading to prevent easy communication.

“Well, unless you have any more intimate questions about my past, I’ll be setting up some traps.” Selvas said.

Nero did have several questions, and not just about her past. Like how the world was structured, were there nations or was it all under one unitary body. Where do the Damned usually appear and how does one travel through the circles of Hell. He couldn’t ask them however, because he didn’t know how to ask them without giving himself away.

Nero shook his head. “None from me.” He told the woman.

Selvas nodded and headed off.

Nero let himself get comfortable once she did and sat down across a log of wood. He roasted meat out on the open fire and let his mind drift to the tune of the crackling wood.

There was still the matter of his Lightbreathing, it was night now, so perhaps it had come back. Nero resisted the urge to check for fear of being watched by the woman. He’d decided she didn’t have any direct suspicions about him, just the general ones that couldn’t be avoided when a stranger suddenly popped out of nowhere.

That was good, he needed to keep his head down, it was the smart way to get about, no matter how bad things got. He had to look out for himself, or else he would die, and Ember would… Well, he didn’t know what would happen to her if he died but he couldn’t imagine it would be great.

The Imp floated around the open flame, time spent around other people, though it made her excited, often seemed to eventually plague her with a certain loneliness. Nero couldn’t talk to her for fear of either coming across having a few screws loose or risk being found out entirely. So she was left to silence while time drifted by.

It was made worse when he took into consideration the fact that even on isolated days she could already only talk to him during waking hours.

He turned his mind to other things. Roughly ten seconds, maybe more. He could use his Light Breathing for about that amount of time, well, that was unfortunate, but it was certainly much, much better than nothing. He’d just have to use it more conservatively next time.

A screech from above clawed Nero’s eyes away from the flame and towards the skies. Something large and black tore through the air above like an arrow. Nero recognised what it was immediately, guts squirming with terror as a result.

“A Face Eater.” Ember whispered.

It was coming down, and coming down quickly. Very fucking quickly.

God, I fucking hate this place.