Rick found himself standing before he was awake.
His heart hammered against his chest, the echoes of Monica’s roar a distant ringing in his ears.
It took a split second for his brain to process what had just happened. He was awake, out of bed, and every part of his body shook with the adrenaline of a man that was ready to run away from a monster. Except the feeling within his chest was not one to run, it was one to fight.
He wanted to fight, something… he was angry.
Angry?
Rick’s eyes whirled around the room. Dia was waking up. The bed was empty.
Monica.
The emotions weren’t his.
The second roar shook the room, the very castle. It was like nothing he’d heard Monica do before. It was like a bomb had gone off outside and the whole place had shuddered from the impact. How far off was that? No, something was wrong.
Deep inside his chest, anger, determination, fight. Fight. FIGHT. Eyes wild, he knew it was Monica. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. He’d not felt her determination swell up like this since the fight with the Baron.
Someone was going to die.
“Sir, what’s-.”
Dia met his gaze and recoiled. It took him a moment to realize he was snarling.
“GO!” He roared, hands shaking as he ran to get his clothes on. “Whatever’s happening, help!”
To Dia’s merit, she snapped instantly. The maiden moved faster than he’d ever seen her, out the door before he’d managed to finish getting his shoes on. His own mind was reeling as he strapped the short-sword to his hip. Things had been going so well, what had put Monica into this state? Was Monica being attacked? The Earl couldn’t have ordered such a thing, or could he? It wouldn’t make sense, if he wanted to attack Monica they’d all be captured. What was going on!? Rick stepped outside through the balcony and couldn’t see anything of importance. The situation was happening somewhere on the other side of the castle.
Ducking back inside his room, he rushed into the castle. It was pandemonium, maidens were moving left and right, breaking world record human sprint speeds as if it was nothing. Some doing so while wearing a full plate of armor. Rick should have bounced back into the room, the maidens left to continue their maddening rush at blinding speeds.
He didn’t, the fire inside him burned. There was no time to waste or hesitate.
“MOVE!”
And they did. As if he’d grown a forcefield that repelled them. The maidens moved, keeping clear of his way and sometimes looking warily as he began to walk towards the center of the castle, certain that from there he could find a way to the other end.
Rick’s steps faltered, head swimming, a burst of pain exploded across his shoulder.
“Sir!”
A small woman reached out to him before he could stumble. It took him a second to recognize her. “Mouse?” He muttered, turning his focus inward. He had to push Monica’s emotions away. The fight had begun and his eyes were having a hard time keeping track on anything that was still, like everything was moving too slowly, every single detail being sought out and scrutinized. Danger behind every corner, prey was rushing right within reach, the air stank of fear, he-
“Sir!”
A door opened, and he was hurried into a room. Darkness all around, and for a split second, he was blind. Panic swirled with anger. He kept pushing the emotions away, blocking them off, but something was wrong. Monica was pushing back, trying to shove everything at him at the same time. She was fighting against someone that made her blood pump and boil like a nuclear reactor that was reaching a critical point.
“My, you look like you need to take a breather.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The voice spoke from the shadows. A figure stepped forward into the beam of light, a figure of plump and generous proportions. Her face was obscured in the darkness. What little illumination entered the room hinted at her large breasts and generous hips, of a flawless body built for one thing and one thing only.
“Why don’t you come and relax?”
His skin tingled like he’d been thrown into a thunderstorm. The fire in his chest swelled and spread across his body. The words struck chords inside him that were all the wrong things, not when he was teetering at the edge of just punching someone. Worse still was that Monica had not relented in her insistence; she wanted him to feel her emotions.
Consciously or otherwise, she was fighting against him. Rick grunted, the tingling had very nearly made him slip.
“Wrong guy.”
Rick’s gaze locked on the window, marching straight towards it. If going through the castle the normal way wasn’t viable, he’d have to move around it from outside. The figure seemed to hesitate as he blew past her, opening the unlocked window.
Ground level, good. He hopped out, head on a swivel and trying to orient himself to find how close he’d gotten to Monica. From behind him there was a startled gasp, probably the lady realizing he wasn’t who she’d thought he was. He’d apologize if he saw her again.
The area he’d come out on was near some sort of stables. It looked unprotected and right next to the wall that led to the town. There were large cages with pigs and boars that were going absolutely wild with their squealing. It was likely the things were quite aware there was a monster in the loose, one with a taste for…
Rick stopped mid-stride, turning to stare at the pigs.
The beasts had abruptly gone quiet, staring at Rick as he stared back.
Had Monica started this? Someone else? Regardless of either, did he need to stop Monica or help her? Why was she pushing her emotions toward him? It was all coming into a blur of aggression and anger. His hand grasped the hilt of the short-sword. If he had to stop her, then some juicy bait could…
Rick realized the pigs had scurried away from the doors and into the very corners of their cages. Another roar, right as pain blossomed against Rick’s arm.
He didn’t have the time to waste here. He practically ran out of the area, following the castle wall in the general direction of Monica’s presence. The closer he got, the more knights he started to see moving around, nervous, preparing or organizing for something.
Each and every single one of them moved out of his way as Rick continued his approach. The sound of fighting became apparent soon after, screeching shivers and powerful thuds. It was like someone was setting off grenades inside an industrial sawmill.
The air trembled and shuddered, and Rick continued moving closer.
One knight moved to block his path, her armor betraying her rank being higher than that of the normal knights, perhaps a captain, perhaps a royal knight. He didn’t care. Rick’s gaze moved from his destination towards her, locking on the visor.
She flinched. But she did not move out of his way.
“Sir, your weapon.”
Rick followed her gesture. At some point he’d unsheathed the blade and was currently holding it as if he were just about ready to jump into a fight. His brows furrowed. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against any maiden, let alone whatever might be making Monica feel like this. But he’d be damned thrice over if he was going to passively sit back and watch.
The grip tightened.
“No.”
That, apparently, was not what she’d expected out of him.
Rick stepped past her. The maiden rushed to catch up. “We cannot let you approach the earl while armed.”
“Good, I don’t have plans to talk to him right now.”
Rick marched onward, not bothering to head in the direction of where the knights were tightly clustered together and instead moving straight ahead, to the volcano of emotion that was Monica. The blaze in his chest was turning into a pyroclastic flow searing its way through him, the hand grasping the sword was shaking. The knight that had stuck to his side was eying him every other second.
And as he pushed forward, he finally caught sight of the battle.
It was a one on one.
Monica stood, wreathed in shadows that flickered as if she were exuding wisps of smoke. Her naked figure was littered with dozens of tiny cuts and several deep ones, dried blood covered her skin. With her claws fully out, she snarled, muscles tense. Opposite her was Deneva, wearing her full armor regalia. Her body glowed with a faint reddish glow. On each hand, she wielded a weapon, a sword on her right, a spear on her left. The armor was chipped and dented in a couple of places, but otherwise untouched.
They jumped at one another, moving faster than Rick could follow. Monica weaved around the weapons as if she were no more than an illusion. Her blows landed on the armor, but each one gave an opportunity for Deneva to slash, poke, and prod. The ground cracked under their feet, each blow a concussive blast that Rick could feel against his bones.
Monica moved with fierce, unrelenting determination, anger.
And Deneva was moving defensively, countering and blocking, restricting Monica’s movements but never chasing after her.
Never taking the offensive.
“Who started this?”
He spoke with a low whisper.
The knight hesitated. “You should step away, sir. It’s dangerous to be this close.”
“If Monica stops, would your captain do the same?”
The knight didn’t speak, and that was all the answer he needed.
Rick moved forward and past the knights.