Iris watched Hecate's battle. It was sad—because of her. She made her sad. Why did this happen? Why couldn't Hecate just stay ignorant? Why must everyone try to tell her what she should do? Did Hecate survive the Labyrinth? Did she live her life? What gave her the right to be sad because of her?
Iris sighed, 'Calm down,' and she did. Controlling emotions was easy; she just needed to detach herself from everything. She was alone in a void, and nothing could ever reach her. She would leave in four days; until then, she could just stay away from Hecate.
Diantha looked at her, confused. Ilona did not say anything, for which Iris was grateful. Ilona's existence was stressful for her. She was Laydell, but in his prime, and a lot more willing to force her will on the weak. Ilona was a hypocrite; she said never to call herself inferior while showing how inferior she was—as a mage— let alone being human.
"Did something happen?" Diantha asked.
"She came to realize I might be in the same condition as Winny," Iris spoke, her voice flat.
"I see…" Diantha did not say anything more. She was better than others. Iris liked her. Diantha never tried to pry more than Iris wanted. If only Laydell or Hecate were like her.
"I want to see the city… I'll return later," Iris picked up Winny and placed her on her head.
…
The city was warm, and everyone was happy, moving, and doing things. She attracted gaze wherever she went. Unlike the first night when she came here, now, everyone knew who she was. They stared at her in awe as if she was some sort of fairy. She did not like attention.
Iris hurried off to an alley, escaping everyone's eyes. They would not follow her; that would be absurd, or so Iris thought, but a group of young children, as young as when she fell into the Labyrinth, came following her. Iris panicked. What now? She decided to fly away, but that scent, the same as what that man that assaulted Jill was in the alley. She could not just leave children here alone.
Iris sighed and decided to use her abhorrent power, "Leave." Children's eyes turned blank as they turned and returned. Iris stood watching them leave. She controlled little children, children who had no power to resist. She was vile, no different from a monster from the Labyrinth. She clenched her teeth. She wanted to run away from this place. But. She must return.
“Even I would never do something so low, to control little children. Are you sure you’re not a monster from the Labyrinth?” A mechanical voice asked from behind. Iris could feel that bizarre presence manifest.
“I am. I believed once I was not, but that mirage has rotted away as I watch these humans and how different they are,” Iris replied, indifferent. Even she could feel how alien her voice was, just like everyone in the village said. She was not human, an inferior, a monster, an alien. That’s all she was—at least, Winny accepted her while understanding all that.
“Hoh,” the unassuming boy whistled, mirth in his voice— not mechanical anymore, his aura changed too, it was more living like, “Here I thought I would see something interesting, a vain effort to appear as human, a conflict. Nothing. You’re disappointing,” His voice gave her a contrasting impression, he was immensely exuberant.
“Accepting my imperfection makes me strong,” her hand reached for her blade, but it found nothing. She had left it in the Grand Duchess’s room. She would retrieve it if needed.
“Accepting my imperfection makes me strong,” the boy mimicked her, then snickered as if he had heard the funniest joke of his life, “Oh, I did hear the funniest joke of my life. Accepting your imperfections makes you stale, incomplete, and weak. Only by overcoming imperfection do you become strong.”
“You’re wrong,” Iris could not even fathom how he arrived at such an illogical conclusion. “A blind man cannot see; only by accepting that fact, only by accepting his imperfection, will he be able to find another way to see the beauty of this world. If he never accepts his imperfection, he cannot move from his weakness, he will become stale at that moment for the rest of his life, he will remain incomplete and thus weak.”
“The beauty of this world?” The boy spat as if he had chewed shite, “I cannot even comprehend how you arrived at such an illogical conclusion. I will correct the wrongness in your statement. Only by not accepting his blindness can he find a way to acquire vision; only then can he overcome his imperfection.”
“Blind cannot acquire his vision; if he does, then that was never an imperfection but a temporary obstacle,” Iris could not even care about this debate anymore. He was a fool, “It would seem we are in a disagreement.”
“Such is the outcome of talking with a fool,” the boy looked up, and Iris followed suit. The sky was covered in dark clouds; it would rain, and not some light shower.
Iris sighed, “I have no desire to spend any more energy talking to you. State why did you come here?”
“No reason, I am just curious—What are you?”
“That question is for me to ask—What are you?” Iris could not even make herself believe he was alive. At least, the thing in front of her was not. Then, what was it? She found her curiosity falling to the side. She did not care about him or this farce that was happening here. She wanted to leave. Away from humans, among the monsters—where she could kill as many things as possible without questioning if she was doing the right thing.
“Is it me, or are we repeating each other?” the boy said, his aura turning even more lifelike and murky.
“I have no interest in talking,” Iris turned, preparing to leave. Her senses rang, and the boy appeared in front of her— he held a dagger filled with mana. He was targeting the neck. No. Left hand. Or, right. Iris realized it was her chest. Iris stepped back, and the dagger, like venomous snake, bolted down at her chest.
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The alley lit up in purple and green as their mana collided. Iris staggered back. The weaver’s orb she summoned to take the hit in her stead was completely black and slowly crumbled. Now, she could not summon this Orb for three days.
Iris's attention was on the boy whose dagger, too, was crumbling from impact. Iris pointed her finger at the boy. A purple laser shot from her finger, piercing the boy’s head. His eyes turned blank. A purple magic circle manifested behind him that absorbed the laser.
The boy’s body changed; it became much taller and bulkier and fell on the floor dead. The boy was never here; he was using this person as a puppet. Iris could not believe she was a split second away from dying at the hand of a puppet.
Iris sighed, walked closer to the dead body, conjured her strings, and flipped him over. It was a young man she had never seen before. He was plain, and she wondered who he was.
She heard footsteps and looked behind. It was a young lady, the same lady who was combing the cat on the first night here. She looked panicked and rushed to the young man’s side. Dead man. Her face filled with tears.
“Kane!” the lady shook the boy, and tears fell on the man's body. She tried again, and again.
“Kane!”
“Kane!”
“Kane…”
“Kan…” She could not complete her words as her shoulder began to quiver and she began crying.
Then, she looked up, at Iris, her face filled with rage, and Hatred. Her fist clenched, “Why did you kill him!”
“I…” Before Iris could answer, her heart clenched. She killed this Lady’s son. Iris could not find a voice to explain the reason.
“Monster!” Lady punched her in the nose, Iris cried in pain. Winny jumped off to the side. She did not use the mana to protect herself. She could not, the lady was nonmage, and if she used her mana, it would tear apart her hand. Lady was her enemy even if Iris knew she was not.
A weaver’s orb appeared above Winny, swallowed her, and shot up in the sky.
Iris fell, and her head collided with the stony surface.
“You monster!” Lady screamed and kicked her in the stomach. Iris could move away but she did not want to. The pain she caused this lady was nothing compared to whatever this lady could do.
“Monster!” Lady kicked her again, Lady did not even see where she was hitting. All she wanted was to let out the anger of losing her child. Tears started to fall as she kicked her again. She climbed on top of Iris and started swinging her hand at Iris’s face. Iris let out another pained scream.
Iris was weak without mana, no stronger than a ten-year-old. She was not capable of taking a beatdown from a healthy adult. Lady slammed both her hands at the same time, crushing Iris’s nose. Her bangle broke and pierced Iris’s lips.
People on the street heard the commotion and came rushing in. They pulled away the lady from Iris. They gasped at the sight of her mutilated face. Lady stomped her hand as she was pulled away, crushing her wrist.
“Murderer! That monster Killed Kane! Kill her!” Lady shouted and attempted to break free from the hold. Someone dragged her away from Iris.
“What do we do?”
“Call Knights,” Someone suggests.
“Wait, Isn’t that Lady Lancaster’s Vassal?”
“What!”
“You’re right, what do we do?”
“We should call Knights and let them take care of this.” the voice paused, “And I’ll go to Lady Diantha’s house and inform her.”
Iris tried to stop him, but she could not speak. The damage was done, and she was in no shape to do anything.
Iris did not want Diantha to know what she had done. Diantha loved people; she would see her as a monster too. No, she saw her as a monster. But, at least, she did not call her one. Iris did not want to hear Diantha calling her a monster.
Soon, Knight came and hauled her into their van. As gentle as she expected them to be. At least, she could use mana again; they would not be able to harm her.
Her mind was filled with dread as they dragged her through the corridor and threw her into a cell. She could hardly breathe with her swollen mouth. And this place made her cough as she sucked in breath. Iris coughed blood.
She did not know how long she was on the floor before someone came and gently lifted her off the floor and took her outside.
Iris saw Diantha standing in the hall; there was no one else. Did she make them leave? Knight placed her on the desk, bowed, and left.
“Wait,” Knight stopped, “Why is there no healer?”
“Commander did not order a medical emergency,”
“I see. Tell Lady Ilona—we need to go to the hospital,”
“N...no,” Iris coughed out, barely.
“What are you saying, Iris? You need a healer,” Diantha spoke very gently. She did not call her a monster. Was she unaware of what she did?
“N...no,” she barely coughed out. There was no point in calling a Healer. Normal healing magic used energy that was too pure for her body; filth would expand far too quickly. She would rather use her Mother’s gift. It used a different type of healing, one that was suitable for monsters of the Labyrinth—like her.
“Alright, you can leave,” Knight left.
…
Karl reiterated the events that had transpired in the alley following Kane’s death.
“I am smarter than you realize,” Laurent chuckled as she quoted the words Iris had said to her. “Only a fool says something like that—here I thought she was sharp. A pity, truly a pity. I was expecting much more from her. A simple-minded fool and Lancaster’s pawn. If only all the Level 6 were this simple—our lives would be much easier. Wouldn’t you agree, Vin?” Laurent looked behind. The unassuming boy stood, his hand behind his back, his eyes hollow.
“Judging an emotionally unstable state for someone's intelligence is neither wise nor virtuous, My Lady,” the boy spoke mechanically.
“You’re no fun, Vin.”
“Wanderer (Iris) survived, as you would expect. We should be prepared for a storm,” as if on cue, the sky lit up, followed by a roaring thunder, casting light into the mostly dark room.
The boy had hoped to take out Caster with the dagger—he was sure to succeed. His class, his fighting style, and the location of the exchange all deemed it impossible for a caster to survive, even more so with how little distance they had. Truly, a different beast the Wanderer was.
“A storm, indeed,” Laurent smiled. Things were falling into place even better than she had anticipated. A little too perfect, to the point that even she found it creepy.