Paola’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl as she hovered on the edge of consciousness. The fight had been a blur of pain and desperation, and now, lying here, she truly wasn't sure what she had been thinking, taking on that monstrous golem by herself. The confidence that had driven her into battle felt like a distant memory, replaced by the harsh reality of her broken body.
She winced as another wave of pain washed over her, each breath sending sharp stabs through her chest. I was overconfident, she thought bitterly. So stupidly overconfident.
As her vision flickered, she caught glimpses of Selene. The demon had the perfect opportunity to take the slippers and leave her to die, like every other fallen star before her. Yet, that didn't happen. Instead, Selene had chosen to save her, to carry her through the relentless sands in search of help.
Paola remembered coming in and out of consciousness, the memories fractured and blurry. She recalled the sensation of being jostled as Selene ran through the sands, the demon’s voice occasionally breaking through the fog in her mind. There had been yelling, desperate pleas that she couldn’t quite grasp. Something about her dying... Was it in a small shanty town? Everything was a blur, but each time she came to, her health was lower, her body weaker.
Then there was the blue-skinned woman. Her touch had been gentle yet firm, her voice carrying a strange, lilting accent that sounded almost... French? Paola tried to focus on that detail, but the thought was too fleeting, too tangled in the mess of her failing senses. I’m not on Earth anymore... So why does she sound like that?
The woman had been urging her not to go to sleep, to stay awake, but Paola knew she was past that point. The healer's mana worked its magic, trying to mend the damage inside her, but it wasn’t enough. The pain was too much. Her body was beyond repair.
She thought back to the fight, her mind grasping at the memory of it. She had been doing okay—maybe even well—until the end. But then the golem had gotten hold of her. The image of the Hulk slamming Loki around from that old Avengers movie flashed in her mind, and despite everything, she almost laughed. She had always found that scene hilarious, but now... now it was her being slammed around like a ragdoll. The way the golem picked her up and smashed her into the ground, over and over, it felt like her body was being torn apart from the inside.
Her lungs, her organs, her bones—everything was crushed, torn, and shattered. She could feel bones tearing through her flesh, the unseen punctures within her body. She knew she would have already been dead if it weren’t for the slippers, giving her that last bit of strength, but even that wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough.
The healer’s mana continued to work, trying to knit her back together, but it was a losing battle. The agony was too great, her body too far gone. Paola felt a cough coming, but when it came out, it was a wet, gurgling sound, and she tasted the metallic tang of blood as red bile dribbled from her lips. She was too tired to fight it off, too weak to resist the pull of darkness any longer.
Just a small nap, she told herself, just a small breather...
Her eyelids grew heavier, the world around her fading into a soft, enveloping blackness. She let herself slip away, too exhausted to care anymore.
As she drifted into unconsciousness, a system message popped up in her mind's eye:
-----
SYSTEM MESSAGE:
YOU HAVE DIED.
-----
The words were stark and final, and as they lingered in her vision, Paola felt a strange sense of peace. The pain was gone now, replaced by a profound silence.
And then there was nothing.
***
Poca knew she was running out of time. Her fingers trembled as she channeled every last drop of mana she had into Paola's shattered body. She could feel the strings of light trying to hold together the broken bones, the torn muscles, the failing organs, but it was as if Paola’s body was fighting her from the inside. The damage was too great, too overwhelming.
With a final, desperate push, Poca tried to knit the woman’s insides back together, her hands glowing with an intense blue light. But it was futile. No matter how much energy she poured into the healing, Paola’s body resisted, rejecting the life that Poca was trying so desperately to preserve. The strings of mana began to unravel, slipping through her grasp like water through a sieve.
Suddenly, Paola’s body convulsed violently. A vile fit of coughing overtook her, and she spat up blood, the dark crimson splattering onto Poca’s hands. The sight of it made Poca’s heart sink further, a deep sigh escaping her as she realized the battle was lost. Her head dropped in defeat, the glow from her hands fading as she pulled back, exhausted and broken.
Paola murmured something, her voice barely a whisper, about needing a nap, about just wanting to take a breather. Poca shook her head, her voice trembling as she pleaded with the woman. "No, no, you can’t go to sleep. If you do, zat will be it. You need to stay with me."
But Paola was already slipping away, her eyes fluttering shut, her breathing growing fainter with each passing second. Poca reached out one last time, desperate to find any sign of life, any thread of hope that she could still cling to. But it was too late. Paola was gone.
Poca’s shoulders slumped, her breath hitching as she slowly withdrew her hands, the finality of the loss settling over her like a shroud. She turned to Selene, hoping for some sign of comfort, of shared grief, but what she saw in Selene’s eyes was far more unsettling. Fear, horror—emotions that seemed so foreign in the eyes of the demon who had once been so strong, so unshakable.
Selene looked down at Paola’s lifeless body, then back to Poca, her expression filled with turmoil. It was clear something was deeply bothering her, something that went beyond the tragedy of the moment. Poca could see the pain etched into Selene’s face, a pain that spoke of more than just grief.
Poca opened her mouth to offer some form of comfort, to say she was sorry, but before she could speak, Selene did.
"I’m sorry for leaving," Selene murmured, her voice thick with regret. "I’m sorry for even showing up."
Poca’s heart clenched at the words, but she said nothing, her own feelings too tangled to express. She watched as Selene’s eyes fell on Paola’s body, then back to her, a look of determination crossing her features.
"I’m sorry for this," Selene whispered, her voice barely audible as she reached down and began to undo the belt that held Paola’s dimensional bag. Poca’s eyes widened in confusion and alarm as she watched Selene pull the bag off the dead woman’s waist.
"What are you doing?" Poca asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and rising dread.
Selene didn’t look at her, her focus entirely on the bag. "I need something from this."
A bad feeling washed over Poca, her instincts screaming that something was very wrong. She reached out to stop Selene, her hand trembling as she did so. But before she could make contact, Selene’s hand moved with a speed and force that caught Poca completely off guard.
In an instant, Selene backhanded Poca with the mithralite arm, the very arm Poca had gifted her. The blow sent Poca crashing to the ground, her lip splitting open as the force of the strike reverberated through her. She tasted the metallic tang of her own blood as it dripped down her chin.
For a moment, Poca lay there in stunned silence, the shock of what had just happened taking a moment to register. When she finally looked up, she saw Selene staring at her own hand in horror, her amethyst eyes wide with disbelief.
"Poca... I..." Selene stammered, her voice trembling as she reached down, as if to apologize, to help Poca up.
But Poca recoiled, a surge of fear and sorrow flooding her senses. "No!" she shouted, her voice breaking as she pushed herself away from Selene. "Just... just leave!"
Tears welled in Poca’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. The pain in her chest was far worse than the sting of the cut on her lip. What had happened to Selene? What had turned her into this? The kind demon she had met, the one she had saved, had been consumed by something dark and twisted.
Selene’s face crumpled with guilt and regret, but she said nothing more. She slipped away, her movements quick and silent, not daring to look back. Poca watched her go, feeling a deep, hollow ache in her chest as Selene disappeared into the shadows of the night.
Once Selene was gone, Poca reached up and touched her split lip, feeling the sticky warmth of her deep blue blood on her fingers. She channeled a small amount of mana to heal the wound, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional agony that gripped her.
She leaned back against the wall, her eyes fixed on Paola’s lifeless body, the reality of what had just happened crashing down on her. What had Selene become? What had driven her to such desperation, to such violence?
Poca’s tears finally spilled over, sliding down her cheeks as she struggled to make sense of it all. She had tried so hard to help, to save, but in the end, she had lost more than just Paola. She had lost the Selene she had once known, the one who had planted seeds with her, who had shared moments of quiet joy in the garden.
Now, all she had left was the blood on her lips and the corpse at her feet.
The storm outside may have passed, but inside Poca’s heart, the tempest raged on.
***
As the darkness enveloped Paola, another system message appeared in her mind's eye, floating in the void like a distant star:
-----
SYSTEM MESSAGE:
YOU HAVE 8 MORE LIVES REMAINING.
-----
Paola would have blinked if she could, but there was nothing—no eyes to open, no body to control. Just that message hanging in the void, a stark reminder of her mortality. Eight more lives? She thought, confusion swirling in her mind. What did that even mean?
Slowly, she began to feel something. Not all at once, but as if her soul was being carefully placed back into her body, piece by piece, everything slowly plugging back in. It was an eerie sensation, like waking up from a deep sleep but in reverse. The nothingness began to recede, replaced by the faint hum of existence.
Then the pain hit. It wasn’t like any pain she had ever felt before; it was a pain of the soul, something deeper and far beyond what she understood as physical agony. It clawed at her very essence, tearing at the fabric of who she was. She wanted to scream, but there was no mouth, no voice, no way to express the torment that wracked her being.
The torment stretched on for what felt like both an eternity and an instant, the concept of time losing all meaning. Just as she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, the message shifted, bringing with it a new set of options that flooded her mind:
---
SYSTEM MESSAGE:
AFTERLIFE SKILLS UNLOCKED. SELECT ONE.
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Invulnerability of the T'shal'ara (Diamond-Tier Ability):
Grants temporary invulnerability for short periods. While active, all damage is negated, and the user is immune to all forms of physical and magical attacks. This ability can only be activated once every 24 hours.
Rapid Teleport of the T'shal'ara (Diamond-Tier Ability):
Allows for instantaneous teleportation to any location within a vast range. The user can teleport multiple times in rapid succession, making them nearly impossible to track or catch. This ability has a short cooldown period.
Vision of Truth (Diamond-Tier Ability):
Enables the user to see the levels, strengths, weaknesses, and detailed information about any person or creature. This ability also reveals hidden objects and illusions, providing unparalleled insight in any situation.
Flight of the T'shal'ara (Diamond-Tier Ability):
Grants the ability to fly at incredible speeds with perfect control. This flight is silent, leaving no trace, and can be maintained indefinitely as long as the user has stamina.
Regeneration of the T'shal'ara (Diamond-Tier Ability):
Accelerates the body’s natural healing processes to an extraordinary degree. Wounds that would normally take weeks to heal are mended in seconds. Even grievous injuries like severed limbs or fatal wounds can be recovered from over time. The user can focus on specific injuries to heal them faster.
Ethereal Step of the T'shal'ara (Diamond-Tier Ability):
Allows the user to become intangible, passing through solid objects and evading attacks effortlessly. While in this state, the user can move freely through any terrain, but they cannot interact with the physical world. This ability can be sustained for a short duration and has a moderate cooldown.
Chaos Strike of the T'shal'ara (Diamond-Tier Ability):
Empowers the user’s physical attacks with chaotic energy, dealing massive damage and causing unpredictable effects on enemies. Each strike has a chance to disorient, debilitate, or outright obliterate foes. The nature of the chaos energy means that no two attacks are the same.
Cat’s Grace of the T'shal'ara (Diamond-Tier Ability):
Enhances the user’s agility, reflexes, and senses to superhuman levels. The user can move with extraordinary speed, dodge attacks with ease, and strike with precision. This ability also heightens the user’s awareness, allowing them to react to threats almost before they happen.
-----
Paola's mind reeled as she tried to process the options before her. T'shal'ara? She thought. What the fuck is a T'shal'ara? The abilities were powerful, beyond anything she had ever dreamed of possessing, but the names meant nothing to her. She had to guess, to trust her instincts.
Invulnerability sounded useful, but maybe too situational. Rapid Teleport could save her life in an instant, but would it help her in the long run? Vision of Truth was tempting, the ability to see the strengths and weaknesses of others could give her an edge in any fight. Flight? It sounded almost too good to be true—freedom in its purest form. Regeneration… that would keep her alive, wouldn't it? And what about Ethereal Step? The ability to become intangible could save her from any trap. Chaos Strike and Cat’s Grace both promised power, but in very different ways.
Each choice came with its own potential, but also its own risks. She could only pick one, and she knew she would need to choose wisely. There were only eight skills, one for each life she had left. This decision would shape her future, her survival, and her path in this strange, dangerous world.
As Paola hovered in that void, the choices of afterlife skills swirled in her mind, each one promising immense power, yet each one carrying its own implications. T'shal'ara… the word echoed in her thoughts, alien and confusing. She had no idea what it meant, but somehow it felt connected to her in a way she couldn’t fully grasp. The weight of the decision pressed on her, and after deliberating on the possibilities, she finally made her choice.
Rapid Teleport.
The moment she chose, another system message materialized before her:
---
SYSTEM MESSAGE:
RAPID TELEPORT OF THE T'SHAL'ARA (DIAMOND-TIER ABILITY) SELECTED.
Description:
Allows the user to teleport instantly up to five times within a created distance. The higher the level of this skill, the farther the range and the more precise the teleportation. The next skill level will unlock an additional teleport and a wider range of movement. This ability makes the user nearly impossible to predict or catch, providing unparalleled mobility in combat or during escapes.
---
Paola tried to wrap her mind around what she had just been given—a gift for dying. It didn’t make sense. The thought of it being a reward, a skill to enhance her abilities in this dangerous world, felt both surreal and unsettling. But more than that, the term T'shal'ara kept gnawing at her.
What in the fuck is a T'shal'ara? she thought again, frustration growing as the answers remained elusive. Why am I considered one? The title seemed foreign, disconnected from anything she knew. She was just a girl from Earth—or was she? Each new revelation seemed to pull her further from the life she once knew.
Before she could delve deeper into her confusion, another message appeared, its tone more cryptic:
---
SYSTEM MESSAGE:
THE T'SHAL'ARA GROW STRONGER WITH EVERY LIFE THEY GIVE.
Note:
So long as they die an honorable death, the T'shal'ara shall rise anew, empowered by the experience. This path will lead to their destiny, a journey of strength and purpose that culminates with their last life. The T'shal'ara believe:
"With each death, we honor the life to come; with each rebirth, we draw closer to our true selves."
---
Paola read the message slowly, trying to grasp the meaning behind it. An honorable death? It seemed like every piece of information only led to more questions. The T'shal'ara were supposed to grow stronger with each life they lost, and yet, she had no idea what her true destiny was. The words of the saying lingered in her mind, cryptic and profound.
"With each death, we honor the life to come; with each rebirth, we draw closer to our true selves."
What is my true self? she wondered, the uncertainty gnawing at her. The message spoke of destiny, of a path that led somewhere—somewhere important. But the idea of having to die again, and again, to reach that point was both terrifying and overwhelming.
Before she could ponder further, she felt a pull, a force dragging her back toward consciousness. The void began to fade, replaced by the dim awareness of her physical body. The pain started to return, a dull throb at first, then sharper as the seconds passed. Her senses slowly returned, piece by piece, the world around her coming back into focus.
And then she was back, fully aware, fully alive. The agony of her injuries hit her like a tidal wave, but beneath that was the burning knowledge of what she had just experienced—the choices she had made, and the strange, unsettling truth about her existence as a T'shal'ara.
As she opened her eyes, the memory of the void and the messages lingered in her mind. The Rapid Teleport ability was now a part of her, a powerful tool that she would have to learn to wield. But even as she took her first shaky breaths, the questions remained.
What am I becoming?
Paola opened her eyes slowly, the world coming into focus as she found herself staring up at a makeshift ceiling, an odd mix of metals and cloth materials pieced together to form a shelter. The air was heavy with the scent of something earthy, and as she turned her head, her gaze met a pair of mismatched eyes—one a deep, vibrant purple and the other a soft, mossy green.
The eyes belonged to a woman with light blue skin, her face framed by wavy black hair that cascaded down her shoulders. But it wasn’t the color of her skin or her striking eyes that held Paola’s attention. It was the intricate stitches that ran from the corners of her lips to her ears, and the staples that encircled her neck like a choker. Paola's eyes drifted down to where navy-blue ribbons crisscrossed between two exposed, delicate breasts, creating a strange yet beautiful pattern on her chest. The woman wore what seemed to be a simple dress made from a potato sack, which despite its simplicity, managed to accentuate her figure.
Paola noticed the dirt stains on the woman’s bare feet and calves. The woman sat there, staring at Paola, her expression a mix of horror and disbelief, as though she were struggling to find the right words to say.
Paola coughed softly, managing a small, “Hi.” Her voice was weak, but it broke the silence.
The woman, still cautious, slowly moved closer, her movements hesitant, as if she were approaching a wild animal. Paola could see the tension in her posture, the way her mismatched eyes studied her with an intensity that made her feel like she was being inspected.
Finally, the woman tilted her head and began to speak, her voice carrying a thick accent. “You are... alive?” she asked, almost as if she couldn’t believe it herself.
Paola nodded weakly, her throat dry. “I think so...”
"Are you… a necromancer?" she asked, her tone cautious. "Or do you 'ave any necromantic spells? Anyzing related to ze undead, undeath, or… devils?"
Paola blinked, confusion clear on her face. "No," she replied.
The woman seemed to study her, then asked again, "Non? No pacts? No dark magics zat deal wiz death?"
Paola shook her head. "No, nothing like that."
The tension in the woman’s body visibly relaxed, and she let out a slow breath. "Très bien," she murmured, nodding to herself. "Très bien."
She moved even closer now, hesitantly at first, but then with more confidence as she placed her hands over Paola’s chest. A soft, warm blue light emanated from her palms, and Paola felt a soothing sensation wash over her as the woman began to heal her injuries. The glow pulsed gently, like strings of mana knitting her insides back together.
Paola watched in awe as the woman worked, the light mending torn muscles and shattered bones with a delicate touch. Despite the intensity of the situation, Paola felt a strange sense of calm. This woman, despite her eerie appearance, exuded a serene and gentle aura.
"Why were you asking those questions?" Paola asked, her voice steady despite the lingering pain. "Why were you worried about necromancy?"
The woman paused for a moment, her hands still glowing as she concentrated on healing. "Because," she began, her accent thickening as she spoke, "you were dead only moments ago. Dead is dead, no? One does not come back unless zey 'ave made some sort of… deal or pact."
Paola raised an eyebrow at that. "Then why are you healing me if you thought I was… undead or something?"
The woman chuckled softly, a small smile forming on her lips. "Healing is what kills ze undead, ma chérie. If you were truly undead, I would 'ave changed my approach."
Paola couldn’t help but smile at that, finding the woman’s reasoning both logical and oddly endearing. There was something about this blue-skinned healer that made Paola want to protect her, to keep her safe. She was adorable, in her own strange way, and that made Paola feel a sense of warmth she hadn’t expected.
As the healing continued, Paola realized just how much better she felt. Her strength was returning, and the pain was fading rapidly. She could already feel that she might be able to sit up soon, maybe even crack a few jokes. The thought brought a smile to her lips.
"Thank you," Paola said softly, her eyes meeting the healer’s once more. "You’ve done more for me than I could ever repay."
The woman gave her a gentle smile in return, her fingers working delicately as she continued to heal Paola’s wounds. "Non, non," she replied, shaking her head slightly. "Zere is no need for repayment. Healing is what I do. It is who I am."
Paola let out a small sigh of relief, feeling the last of her injuries mend under the woman’s care. She took a deep breath, finally feeling whole again. "I don’t think I caught your name," she said, tilting her head slightly.
The woman looked at her with those mismatched eyes, her expression softening. "Poca," she said simply. "I am Poca."
Paola smiled. "It’s nice to meet you, Poca. I’m Paola."
Poca nodded, her fingers still glowing with that soothing blue light as she finished the last of her healing work. "Likewise, Paola," she replied, her voice soft and kind.
Paola slowly began to sit up, feeling a rush of relief as her body responded without the searing pain that had wracked it before. But just as she was getting comfortable, Poca, who had been watching her intently, asked, "What 'appened to you? And 'ow do you know Selene?"
Paola's eyebrows shot up as memories came flooding back. "Selene! Where is she?" Her hand instinctively went to her belt, but she only found her bare stomach. She glanced down at herself and saw that her cloak was still in tatters, barely covering anything. The self-repair feature must still be on cooldown from her last fight. With a sigh, she realized she was once again basically naked, wearing nothing but strips of the cloak that provided minimal coverage. At this point, though, she was fine with it.
Poca watched her carefully, her expression a mix of concern and regret. "I tried to stop 'er from taking your belt," Poca admitted softly, her accent thick with sincerity. She pointed to a recently healing gash on her lip. "But Selene, she stopped me."
Paola winced, guilt rising in her stomach. "You didn’t need to do that, especially if you thought I was… dead."
Poca nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Oui, but it didn’t feel right, letting 'er take your things like zat. I knew Selene some time ago, and… she doesn’t seem to be ze same person anymore."
Paola’s curiosity piqued at that. "What do you mean?"
Poca shook her head, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. It was clear she was conflicted about her feelings toward Selene. "I don’t know… I just, I just feel zat something 'as changed in 'er. She used to be… different."
Paola could sense Poca’s hesitation, the internal struggle she was facing. It was as if Poca wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if she should. Paola decided not to press her further and instead offered a reassuring smile.
"Do you need your bag?" Poca asked, trying to shift the conversation.
Paola nodded but couldn’t help smiling as she did. "Yes, I do. But don’t worry," she added, seeing the confusion in Poca’s eyes, "I know where Selene is, and I know where my bag is."
Poca tilted her head, clearly puzzled. "But 'ow do you know zat?"
Paola chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let's just say I have a bear that's following her trail."
Poca’s confusion deepened, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of what Paola was saying. "A bear? Following 'er trail?"
Paola just grinned, enjoying the perplexed look on Poca’s face. "It’s a long story," she said, waving it off playfully. "But trust me, I’ll get my stuff back."
Poca shook her head, still baffled but clearly relieved that Paola was alive and seemingly well. "You are a strange one, Paola," she said with a small smile, her accent making the words sound almost musical.
Paola leaned back, letting her gaze linger on Poca for a moment longer than necessary, a subtle warmth in her eyes. "Takes one to know one, Poca," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of something more.
Poca caught the nuance in Paola’s tone, her own smile widening just a bit as their eyes met. There was a brief, unspoken exchange—an acknowledgment of the connection they had, however fleeting it might be. Poca’s gaze softened, a touch of curiosity and interest sparking behind her mismatched eyes.
Paola, feeling better but still aware of the challenges ahead, knew she had to confront Selene. But for now, she was content to be in the company of this strange yet captivating blue-skinned woman who had just saved her life.
She would deal with Selene soon enough. But for now, she had to gather her strength—and her thoughts.
The night was still young, and the chase was on.