Chapter 176: Book Three – Chapter Eight – Part Eight – Wetwork

“Ah, those bolts are poisoned, aren’t they?” Servi asked, tilting her head. Her sudden words and confident demeanor froze her opponent in his place, and he found himself feeling odd. The scornful, hateful look on his face softened, and he removed his finger from his crossbow's trigger and lowered it. Even then, he never looked away from his opponent's single eye.

In his mind, he didn't know why he couldn't just shoot her. Was it because he was frightened? He did find the whole situation puzzling because he couldn't understand the Human in front of him. Her actions just didn't make any sense at all, considering she stared death in the face, and that confused his instincts. 

A part of Mierkia believed that firing the arrow would mean the end of something grand, and what if that something was his life? It was possible his self-preservation drained his violent anger and replaced it with something else, something that would grant him a few more seconds with his life.

"That's right," he said, stalling for time. "It's created from mashing up dried shiroblooms, mixing in the venom of a poison dragon, and adding a few pinches of Red Scythe. Have you heard of it before? Red Scythe is a nasty little mineral that can be used as a substitute for all kinds of things relating to fire and explosives. For example, if you were to coat a sword with it and hit a rock, it'll blow up. I know a Kobold who puts that shit on his steak because that's the only thing that he can taste.

"When added to the two ingredients I talked about, the substance changes to a sickly green color. I don't know why it happens, and to be honest, I don't care enough to find out the reasoning. All I know is that it allows me to kill from a distance. It's something I made by myself when I was first starting off as an assassin, so I'm proud of it. If just a drop gets into your body, whether it be from an opening like your mouth or ear, or a wound like a cut, you're fucked. You'll freeze in place, and your body will shut down a few seconds later. Then, after foaming from the mouth--"

Servi stood up and activated 1,250 instances of Protection. "Just shut up! I don't need to know every little fucking detail about it, and I don't need to know the culinary preferences of some random Kobold. It's not like that pathetic poison is even going to work on me. You're just putting off this fight because you don't have any balls. If you're gonna shoot me, then fucking shoot me! Take revenge for your shitty brothers! Go and bury them in a pile of cow shit if you get out of here alive!" Servi shouted. She stomped forwards a step, prompting her foe to take a warning step backwards. Servi's words forced Mierkia's rage back to the forefront of his mind, eliminating what little self-preservation he had left. Anger guided his arm, forcing it to aim at the one person he needed to send to the afterlife. With a simple breath, he pulled the trigger. The incoming poison-tipped arrow struck Servi's cheek—or it would if it hadn't simply shattered as if it smashed into a boulder.

Servi advanced forward with one foot in front of the other. Each step brought her closer to her dead target. More importantly, her forward march forced her would-be assassin to step backwards. “St-Stay away!” he cried in fear. Each step resulted in a panicked trigger pull, and each arrow fired her way wouldn’t strike through. Her Protection could guard against a nadrium sword! Puny projectiles breaking her invisible shield would be akin to a child taking down a giant with an inflatable toy. “You’re nothing but a monster! Stay back, monster!!!” Droplets of green liquid splashed against her invisible shield, tumbling down to the wooden floor. 

“Aww, you’re trying to hurt my fucking feelings? I’m not a monster... I’m something worse than an intangible bag of fear from the depths of hell!” Servi stopped in her tracks and psychotically rubbed her hands down her face. A growing, destructive feeling welled up from within the depths of her soul. It scratched and howled, begging for freedom. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare! I hurt! I kill! I rip my enemies a-fucking-part, and I devour their fucking souls!!! I’m the Mad-Fucking-Dog, and I’m here to end your fucking life!” Without any warning, Servi rushed forward faster than Mierkia’s trained eyes could follow. She kicked off with such force that the wooden floor under her crackled and buckled, leaving an alternate path to the floor below.  

From Mierkia's point of view, it was as if she suddenly appeared in front of him, and he couldn’t do a single thing to fight against her. Servi tore off the cloak and jabbed her fingers into his armored chestplate. Servi felt something warm and soft, and she grinned. The bones in her fingers snapped when she ripped his breastplate off. In a rage, he swung his arms in a wild fashion, eventually getting a clean hit. But Servi didn’t drop him. Instead of granting him a moment of peace, she gave him an eternity of suffering.  

Stabbing her bloody fingers back into the injury on his chest, she faintly brushed against one of his ribs and yanked it out, leaving a large, open wound. Mierkia’s agony-filled screams reverberated throughout all three floors, and it was only a few seconds before there was a pounding on the door. From the room under the study, a few guards attempted to climb up. However, they wouldn’t make it far at all. Using his own rib, Servi carved Mierkia’s neck tattoo off, absorbed it, and threw his barely alive body into the hole leading to the floor below.  

“Wha—AAAHHHH!!!!” She heard a few screams coming from the hole, but her job was finished when a few red souls flowed over to her.  

“I don’t have to kill anyone else. I can just go back to Deset. But where’s the fun if I do that? The gnawing inside me... It wants to come out... Should I let it? Maybe a little, right? Just a little? That'll be okay, right....?” As Servi whispered to herself, her voice growing more ragged and deranged, she heard several loud bangs coming from the door.

“Frankie?! Are you okay? What the hell is going on?! Sorry, but we’re coming in! We found Barry’s corpse!” A voice spoke from beyond the door, and Servi guessed it came from a Kobold because it was deep and rough, like a growl. When the door exploded open a few seconds later, her guess had been proven right.  

Eight heavily armored and armed warriors rushed into the room. They kept far away from the clear hole and stared at the girl holding a bloody rib.  

“I'm the Mad Dog, right? Right?! RIGHT?!” Servi growled deeper than even the Kobold who spoke at the door and lowered herself down. She kicked off, creating another hole behind her, and tackled the Kobold into the wall. Somehow, it kept standing, but the same couldn’t be said for the Kobold splattered in half. The organs inside his midsection had nowhere to go, so they created their own exit in his lower back. Red hot crimson showered Servi's face and chest, and her rage and violence-filled eye roared alive with bloodlust.  

She swung the rib around at the crowd frozen by fear, bashing the chin belonging to the closest Elf. His head spun nearly 180-degrees, killing him and destroying Servi’s weapon at the same time. Soul Essence of Primal Combat activated, alerting her to an incoming stab. But Servi deactivated the skill and took the attack head-on after removing her Protection.  

The Koena who attacked her had a sword, and it pierced through her armor to her heart, but Servi only screamed with delight. Her hands went from her joyous face to the two daggers resting at home on her waist. Pulling them, she spun around with no rhyme or reason. There were no techniques, tactics, or even logical sense to the feral motions she performed. It couldn’t even be called combat. Her daggers pierced solid plate, yet they only did so because of her inhuman strength. The pommels and handles left big holes in the side of faces and bare skin, yet it was her raw and rabid power that empowered it. And in the midst of it all, Servi growled like that of a Mad Dog. It was like she had forgotten how to act like a Human.

In only ten short seconds, the eight intruders lost their lives. The room, painted red, pink, blue, and white with blood, flesh, scales, and bone acted like a temple of death. Anything that entered would die by the hands of the sole survivor, a blood-stained girl whose facial expression resembled that of a rabid beast. Her eye turned to the hole, and she jumped down it.  

Three men littered her view. She killed the left one with a dagger tossed between his eyes. His head split open, embedding part of his brain to the wall behind him. She dragged the middle-most man to her with Telekinesis and ripped him apart from head to groin. She killed the last man, a Human with brown eyes and black hair, by beating him to death with the two halves of the man she tore apart. Suddenly, an arrow pierced her head, and she turned to the shooter.  

He was a boy, no older than sixteen or seventeen. His eyes showed no sense of hesitation or fear in the face of a bloody monster.  

“Die, monster!!!” he shouted.  

"THAT WON'T FUCKING KILL ME!!!!!" Servi shouted and unnecessarily snapped her fingers. The arrow acted almost as if time was reversing. It retraced its steps, flying in a perfect arc until it pierced the shooter's shoulder armor and struck fleshy gold. When he collapsed back in obvious pain, Servi used Telekinesis to float him over to her. She pulled out a dagger and slammed it into his back, but she didn’t stop when he cried for mercy. With his body acting a bowl and her blade a mixer, Servi spun her hand in circles. Every bone that broke, every muscle that snapped, every single joint that cracked and shattered brought her untold joy as if she were a chef making a bloody, red soup. She stopped a few seconds later when his back nearly became hollowed out, but not because she wanted to. Her ID had suddenly appeared from nothing and slammed into her arm.

SERVI, STOP THIS!!! WE CAME FOR WHAT WE NEEDED, AND WE DON'T HAVE TO STAY HERE ANYMORE!!! Itarr wrote.  

Servi tossed the boy to the ground, spilling the soup-like contents of his hollowed back, and threw her ID against the wall. Servi muttered something incomprehensible as the red dust flowed towards her body. She looked up and down and all around when footsteps closed in on her position.  

 “I’ll end it... I’ll end it all!!!!” Clapping her hands, Servi summoned a Fire Wall. A tremendous red flame roared alive, consuming her and the entire mansion in a blaze lasting only a single second. The fire, so insanely hot, instantly scorched everything, even the very ash it produced.  

Other than a lone girl, everything had been turned into a a dark black stretch of scorched earth. The only reason Servi came out unscathed wasn’t because of her immortality or Protection. It was because one of the properties of Fire Wall. If she wished it, then the flames created from her would be unable to harm her. It was an extra option that required vastly more Skill Energy, and anyone could use it. In her case, the extra Skill Energy required was the same as scooping a bucket of water out of a 1,000,000,000,000 liter pool as thousands of water hoses constantly kept it filled.

The large mansion with a yellow roof didn’t exist any longer. By the time morning came, a few people would argue that there wasn’t anything left to find in that area of blackened ground. People did notice the moment a bright red light, even brighter than the sun, illuminated nearly the whole of Arcton and New Arcton as a whole, but most believed it to be an illusion or something similar.

But it wasn’t an illusion. It was real. The one who created such a flame disappeared into the thin line between existence and non-existence as she soared across the skies. Her blue eye and mind wandered back to Old Man.  

Do you feel sad? Itarr wrote on the red stone tablet.  

“I don’t. I only feel regret,” Servi replied.  

Did you want to save him? 

“No, I only wished I could have killed him myself. I should have done it the moment we left Deset. If not then, I should have slaughtered him after we entered through the red-bricked tunnel. But he's dead... And that's fine.” 

What about his granddau— 

“She means nothing to me. If she dies from the disease, then she fucking dies. I will not go out of my way to do anything. She isn’t my responsibility, alright?! If he cared about her, then he would’ve DONE SOMETHING ABOUT IT! ITARR, WE DON’T CARE ABOUT OUR ENEMIES, ALRIGHT?!!! THEY ARE CALLED ENEMIES FOR A GODDAMN REASON!!!!!” Servi shouted, straining her lungs because any sound she produced wouldn't be heard by anyone. 

After receiving Servi’s abuse, Itarr slumped back into the depths of hers and Servi’s soul. Nestled into a ball, she cried and cried to pass the time because she couldn’t do anything else.  

It’s all my fault…Servi, I miss you… I miss the girl I fell in love with… Itarr's mind and attention then turned to the ring’s innards. While Servi had egged on her crossbow-wielding foe, Itarr absorbed Old Man’s belongings. Other than the dupla he had been collecting, she found a single letter assaulted by time and the elements.  

She read it over and cried when the realization hit her. Old Man always intended to come back in his granddaughter’s life, but he didn’t know how. The letter was proof of him trying to organize what he wanted to say, but his life ended before he gathered the courage. 

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Old Man, I promise you I’ll make sure she receives this letter. Even if I have to go against Servi… Even if I have to betray her again… I’ll do it. I swear I will. Your granddaughter deserves to be happy...

---

“Here you fucking go.” Servi slapped Mierkia’s bloody tattoo on the table in front of her. Even though it was nearly approaching midnight, the same table still carried the identical cups and plates as it did when Servi first took on the mission to kill Snare.  

She no longer felt sick or odd by the vast openness above her, but in turn, her anger had grown by leaps and bounds. When Carmelo didn’t look up from drinking out of his cup, Servi raised her hands and slammed down. The table broke and shattered, and Servi pointed at the proof. “Frankie is dead. That fucking Dwarf is dead. Old Man is dead. Mierkia is fucking dead. And I know you aren’t going to fucking pay.” 

“My oh my, are you perhaps saddened by Old Man’s passing?” Carmelo said the chant for Telekinesis and let go of his cup. It remained floating as he gently cradled Clarence.  

“No, I wanted him to die. I wanted to kill him.” 

“You do realize you’re admitting to being a traitor to your boss, right? And you don’t feel anything?” 

“Like I care. You wanted Old Man dead. You wanted me dead. You probably want all of us dead. I even bet the targets the 5th wanted you to give me were different than the ones you actually gave me. And guess what? I want everyone to die, too. That’s the only reason I’ve been playing your goddamn game. And no, I didn’t feel a thing. If anything, I could’ve completed the mission far sooner if I’d went solo.” Servi brutally grabbed a nearby chair, spun it around, and sat down.  

I probably should confront him about the robbery. The first team was supposed to bring chaos and slaughter to the nobles, but I didn’t see any sign of that. No, I don’t need to think. I’m just an assassin... A Mad Dog who kills and slaughters to sate her desire.

“Hahahahahahaha!!!! Yes! This is what I’ve been waiting for! A monster! You’re the monster with an insatiable appetite for killing!!!” Carmelo broke into a mad fit of laughter and didn’t stop even when his skin turned a slight purple from a lack of air.  

“Monster? No, I prefer to be called a Mad Dog.” 

“Mad Dog, eh? I like it even better. Fine, how about this? I’ll be your master, and I’ll tell you who to kill. Use your fangs to rip their lives, their flesh, their very souls, from their bodies, and bring me back the proof. Do that, and I'll let you chew on their bones and feast on their meat."

“That’s fine with me. Just give me the autonomy I deserve, and I’ll sink my fangs into anyone you want.” 

“Then it’s agreed. I’ll give you your next task right now. I’ll even give you time to prepare.” 

“What are my orders?” Servi stood up and ran a hand through her lavender-colored wig.  

“I want you to kill my boss, the leader of the Mafia. I don't know how you fight, but you clearly have some sort of ability that is perfect for killing. You always seem to do the impossible even when I set you up to fail. Complete this final contract, and you'll never want for anything ever again.” 

Finally! Finally! I knew someone like Carmelo had grand ambitions! He’s a sucker for power! 

“As you wish. He’ll die on Saturday. I’ll leave in the morning to prepare. Don’t come looking for me because you won’t find me. Don’t worry, I won’t run away. I’m a good little Mad Dog. I’ll be sure to be in the right spot at the right time.” Servi turned away from Carmelo and walked towards the door. When her hand grabbed onto the handle, she heard a squeaky and childish voice come from behind. Looking back, she saw a small fairy-like creature hovering in mid-air.  

That’s just another spirit for me to kill. She left without speaking a word aloud and made the quiet trek back to her room.  

During her walk, Servi's vision slowly morphed. The walls turned into a glittering utopia full of bright blue skies, and the floor transformed into waves of verdant grass. In a sense, it was like Servi had been transported to a place where dreams became reality. Obviously, she was still inside Deset, but just for once, Servi allowed her mind to wander free. When she imagined a life of leisure with Momo, a pretty wooden table appeared. With it came two glasses of apple juice and a pair of chairs. A quick thought later, Servi stopped dead in her tracks as the sight of her best friend appeared from a whirling tornado of cherry blossoms. She only saw her back, which was clothed in a white sundress, but it was a glimpse of her ultimate goal.

Servi instantly thrust her arm out, grasping at what wasn't there. That crude behavior crushed her daydream, dissipating it into a whimsical mist. She looked down at her clenched fist and sighed.

"I'm doing this for... I'm doing this for you... That... That scenery I saw... It'll be us... One day, that'll be us...me and you...you and me... It feels like..." You're the only thing keeping me Human... Servi couldn't say those last words out loud, so she settled for uttering them in her mind. With another sigh, she shook her head and continued walking.

---

When she entered through the door, Servi had an urge to slam her foot into the sleeping Singi’s chest. However, she fought against that feeling.

“Itarr, fill the room with Kaasuvuoto’s sleeping gas,” Servi ordered. She stepped over Carrie and sat down against the wall.   

Servi, why did you pledge loyalty to Carmelo? 

“If you need to ask, then you don’t understand. I didn’t pledge anything. I lied to Carmelo so I can leave this fucking place without him going into a frenzy. If I had just left, there's a chance the boss would've been alerted or something. How? I don't know. Besides, it’s all going to plan.” Servi’s reply held a harsh tone. Her words stabbed at Itarr like knives chopping a frozen chunk of meat.

Okay, Servi. But what if this is something that will also get his attention?  You aren't being subtle at all... No, I shouldn't think like that... I’ll believe you, Servi. I always believe you. You have a plan... I know you do... I’ll let you think things over because there’s probably a lot to sort through. I love you, Servi. 

Love? A Mad Dog doesn’t love. It only kills. I’m not worthy of anyone’s love, and no one is worthy of the love of a Mad Dog like myself. Servi thought. Her eye stared ahead. It never blinked.  

Servi, you didn’t say you love me. You do love me, right? You’re probably just thinking about how to spend the next two days, right? I want to say the Mafia is somehow corrupting you, but that can’t be true! I believe in you! I know you still have Momo’s rescue as your main goal. I hope you know I meant it when I said I believe you. Because I do believe in you. You were the one who rescued me from my imprisonment. If anything, keep my love and belief in the back of your mind and heart and draw on it when you need their strength.  

Itarr wanted to write those words on Servi’s ID, but she ultimately settled for speaking them aloud inside their interconnected soul. 

---

Seven hours later, when Kaasuvuoto’s gas had naturally dissipated, Carrie woke up on the floor of her room. She felt something cool on her face, which turned out to be tears.

She had been crying in her sleep.

When Carrie stood up, her head turned to the empty bed. The sheets were still folded up from when she made the bed the night before. She had intended to wait for Servi to get home before slipping under the covers, so she took a small nap on the floor while she waited. Somewhere along the way, she must've dozed off. More small tears flowed from her eyes. They traveled down her cheeks, tracing it so delicately like fallen leaves would a tree, and sorrowfully dripped to the floor.

“Williana…you didn’t come home last night... Why?” she whispered while holding back a sob. “Why… Why does my heart hurt so bad…?”  

The dam of tears broke free, and Carrie dissolved into a sobbing mess. Her tail curled around her waist, and she hugged it ever-so-tightly.  

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