The two searched and searched, asking anyone who’d listen. Aria had disappeared. Noone could claim they saw her, leaving the two with nothing to follow. That’s when the two searched around the caravans, asking the merchants for any clues. There, they met a familiar face. She worked alone, packing goods onto the back of a giant lizard, a mount commonly used by the Imperial army.

“Mary?” Troy asked. The girl was none other than Mary, the halberdier who carried her spear on her back.

She turned to meet the two, smiling at Troy before staring wide eyed at Isabelle.

“Well, Aria wasn’t kidding. It looks like she really did tame a demoness.”

“Speaking of Aria, have you seen her?” Troy asked.

“Aria’s gone?”

Mary froze. The lazy look on her face vanished and in its place was a mix of surprise and intrigue. Troy had no idea what was going on, and as far as he knew, this was nothing but Aria disappearing on her own. There was no foul play involved. He thought of Mary as an airhead who was somehow also reliable when the time came.

He wasn’t wrong. She was a lazy airhead for sure, but under the folds of sloth hid the mind of a schemer — the reliable part of her.

Mary smiled at their misfortune.

“Well, it looks like she’s disappeared. Do you think there’s any reason for that? Was she acting strange earlier?”

“She seemed a bit distant, but looking around, it seems like no one's seen her.”

“That leads me to believe that this isn’t a simple case of a child getting lost, but something else entirely,” Mary answered. “If she were lost, she’d ask around for help, making herself a memorable person. However, it might be on purpose that no one has seen her.”

“On purpose?”

“Maybe she’s gone into hiding. With the commotion of the festival, it wouldn’t be too hard for her to… disappear.”

Mary had a sinister tone in her voice, a tone that betrayed her calm and slightly empty expression. Her eyes dug into Troy. He could feel her prying into him, like she was taking her outstretched arms and grasping his helmet, snapping it apart to reach for his slime core.

“Maybe… she’s been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped,” Troy whispered, and Mary nodded.

“A kidnapper might’ve taken interest in her, and in the chaos of this festival, may have lured her away.”

“For what reason? Why would anyone do that?”

“Because she’s special.”

Mary’s sinister aura grew. She reached over to her lizard — a symbol of the Empire — before petting it on its scaly head.

“You know, the Ardyne Empire holds many secrets,” she whispered. “Would you believe me if I told you that the Emperor both knows and supports a secret kidnapping ring?”

“The Emperor!? A kidnapping ring!?”

“The Empire controls this continent, and to maintain that control, they must do… unspeakable things.”

“Someone from the Empire’s gone and kidnapped Aria!?”

“Perhaps,” Mary answered. “You know, when I first saw Aria, I could feel it — an untapped potential. Looking at her, I could tell that she had latent talent. Every second she spent not training that talent was a second gone to utter waste. I’m sure you felt it too, didn’t you?”

Troy couldn’t deny it. When she looked at Lady Aria, he felt that there was something there — something that made her stand out from other children. Troy, himself, was nothing special. He was an ordinary fellow cursed by a witch. Isabelle, too, was an ordinary demoness.

“Who is that girl?” Mary asked. “Do you know where she came from? Who her parents are? What sort of blood runs through her veins?”

Troy knew nothing about Aria. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t answer her. Mary must’ve felt an ounce of pity for the two because she had something important to tell them.

“Aria is not who she seems. Even she doesn’t seem to remember it, but that doesn’t change the fact that she originated from someplace far more… sinister… more sinister than you can ever imagine.”

“I don’t care who she is,” Isabelle said. “Just tell me — do you know where she went?”

Mary paused, raised her arm, and clenched her fist. From her hand came a thin trail of light — light that scattered in six different directions. She plucked a string, and from the vibration alone, she could tell who it came from.

“She’s gone off towards the south, out of this city and towards the forest.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“The forest?”

“She’s taking matters into her own hands,” Mary answered. “She’s doing exactly as you told her to, didn’t you?”

Hearing that, Isabelle knew exactly what was going on. Aria had disappeared to train alone — to grind up EXP. For whatever reason, she didn’t know, but something swelled inside her, a growing dread. Isabelle could tell that something was creeping up from the darkness, threatening to swallow them whole.

Isabelle and Troy followed the strings Mary plucked, strings that connected to a person they had no idea even existed.

On the other side of the city was Aria. Vanishing into the blizzard, she relied on a singular tool, a satchel full of explosive potions. With four potions in both hands, wedged between her fingers like playing cards, she began her indiscriminate rampage.

No creature got away unscathed. She was relentless, absorbing every drop of EXP that filled the forest. She had no weapons of her own. The best she could do was carry with her a big stick, and like a caveman, she finished off weakened monsters with the wooden mass.

Snow bats, ice crows, white tailed boars — anything that moved became her prey. Aria hated killing and death, but for the sake of the servants she saw as her new family, she threw away those notions of peace and tossed aside pacifism in favor of a violent grasp for power. It was something she should have done long ago.

With every potion she synthesized and every swing of that bat of a stick, she felt the pain that came with harming and hurting gradually fade away. Eventually, after hours, she found herself surrounded by patches of blood that stained the snow red.

To go from level seven to eleven in just a few hours — she didn’t know why, but for whatever reason, EXP came naturally to her. It wasn’t just a puberty induced multiplier. It had to be something more.

With those newly acquired skill points, with bloodied hands, she brought up her menu. From the mirror reflection on the screen, she saw how muddied her face became with blood smeared on her cheek and clothes.

That’s right. Monsters still carried blood in their veins — veins that pumped oxygen to muscles and mana to cells. It was a process she didn’t quite understand.

Going from seven to eleven granted her six skill points. One for when she got to level seven, three more for reaching ten, and two for eleven.

She heeded Isabelle’s advice. Each skill point went towards magecraft.

For one point, Magecraft tier one; it granted her the ability to use basic magic.

For five points, Magecraft tier two; intermediate spells filled the pages of her internal grimoire.

For another point, Swordsmanship tier one; it granted her the ability to wield swords more efficiently. The bat in her hand became a sort of ‘sword’. The skill multiplier slashing and slicing damage, which was inapplicable to the bat.

With the power of intermediate spells, she only had to rely on her own internal mana to cast them from her fingertips, and with night settling and the snow pouring down, she cast a flame that became her campfire. She was forced to take the flesh of the animals she slayed and cut it into bits and pieces she could eat.

Roasting it over the fire, she watched as blood and juices spilled out of the chunks. She always hated meat since it came from living beings, but after taking a bite of a boar’s tender flesh, she had different ideas.

She knew deep down that humans were monsters, and only separated and made themselves distinct from their monstrous heritage to feel better — to feel civilized. Sitting in the snow and eating the flesh of beasts filled her with a sort of inhuman instinct.

She felt sharper.

She could see further, better in the dark, and focus on details better.

She felt stronger.

Before, she had to cut the flesh apart with a little dagger she carried as a tool, not a weapon. For whatever reason it felt natural, slicing flesh with her tool, dicing it to small, easier to consume pieces.

She felt more confident.

She had her confidence pooled into her craftiness, tossing aside the idea that she could use her two hands to fight, but now she felt it — strength in her small arms. Now, they could sling spells and swing swords.

She had gained so much for breaking one of her sacred rules; to never kill. That’s when she went over to a stream and saw her reflection in the moonlight.

She had dirtied herself. Her hands were stained with crusted blood and her face dirty, with chunks of mincemeat on her chin.

It was all to protect Troy, Isabelle and of course, Gray. Isabelle was quick to accept her and became a sort of older sister slash mother figure. Troy happily took on the role of protective bodyguard slash older brother.

Meanwhile, Gray became a sort of mentor. He took her in and made her his protege — the person he would one day trust with the ownership of the East Tide Dungeon.

That’s when she paused.

Why exactly did he choose me?

Was it boredom? Pity? A happy surprise? Or maybe it was Sulphur who charmed him so, forcing him to hire her and make her his second in command.

She washed herself, and when the freezing cold water of the stream chilled her hands so badly that they shook, she simply snapped, and just like that, warmth returned to her. A gentle blue flame rested by her side, replacing the wisp and Pen Pen who had disappeared.

It was most likely her breaking the contract that did them in. Without it, Pen Pen no longer belonged to her, and neither did the wisp.

It was lonely, sitting there, alone by the riverstream. All she could do was quietly watch as an aurora borealis lit up the sky. For some reason, she didn’t feel tired. Not in the slightest.

Her whole life, she went on as a pacifist, but now that she sat — caked in blood — she found herself in a strange sensation of peace. She could smile and slip a hand into the water, pulling out a little trout effortlessly.

This world didn’t feel real. To sit outside, warm in a blizzard, restless in the middle of the night — it was surreal. On top of that, to see her experience bar fill up in the bottom left corner of her vision, it was all so strange.

It was… unnatural.

She had ice magic which allowed her to create a sort of igloo shelter, and by a campfire, she laid like a fox in her den. All she could think about was that man — the man with the katana.

He saved her for sure, but he disappeared after that.

The sight of blood filled her with so much guilt, believing that she had caused his death. That was enough to set her down the path of pacifism.

Now, she had spilled blood and deep down enjoyed it, too.

Maybe if she stayed in her forest hut her whole life would this have not happened, but it did. If he could meet that man again, she’d apologize to him for breaking the vow she made in the face of his death.

“Sorry.” to him. To Troy and to Isabelle for making them worry, and towards Gray for breaking the contract she signed. Her eyes shut, and she soon fell asleep under the blizzard’s lullaby.