Chapter 25: Chapter 22: Forget-Me-Not 2

A lone girl navigated through a maze of towering ironwood, their massive forms casting shadows that loomed over her like watchful sentinels. She looked up and was gladdened to see the daytime sky lighting her way. 

[You’re not ready for this] Raisendel said matter of factly. 

“I’m not,” Chris agreed. She felt like a noob entering a secret side quest dungeon. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do anything. Isn’t there a way for you to talk it out with Ilias?” She asked Amphitrite.

[Not in my current state. The part of me in your soulscape only exists as a fragment. I’m willing to bet that the rest of my soul is completely inert, and thus severely limited. I’ll have to connect to the Domain again to regain form and function. And even then…]

“What?”

[I don’t think she’s in the mood to talk with anyone right now, not even me] The Lorien queen’s voice was downcast.

“That’s not true. I think she still needs you. At least from what I’ve seen so far.”

[You don’t know what the full story is,] her ancestor muttered.

“No, I don’t.” Chris chuckled wryly, being reminded of her foolish actions on a magicless world not so long ago. Ranting over an unfinished story. 

[We can come back another time, Christiana.] Amphitrite said. [Even if her strength has waned, Ilias is more powerful than you can imagine. You don’t want to face her when she’s like this.]

“You’re right on that too,” the girl replied. “But I’ll still try. I have to try.” She didn’t know the reason for sure. It was a faint calling, like the rhythm of her beating heart. Not the guidance of some higher power, but a mix of her own thoughts and feelings. “I don’t think she wants to hurt me. Call it misguided sympathy if you want, but I can’t live with myself if I just went on like everything’s fine.”

Ignoring Ilias’ pain would be going against everything that she, who assumed the role of Christiana Lorien, should stand for. 

[Just that alone won’t help you,] Raisendel cautioned. [Whatever sort of empathy you have for her situation, it’ll all be pointless if she cuts you down first. You’ll be delving into an illusory Domain controlled by, as we know now, a hostile entity.]

“And you aren’t stopping me?”

[Don’t get me wrong —what you’re doing is at the height of foolishness. Even if your goal is to help, which is commendable, you’re endangering yourself] she chided.

[However,] the spirit went on. [What’s life without risk? Hardship and struggle often teach more than many may think. I’ll support you, as I’ve always done. Go and help her --stay true to your calling. We can treat this as another form of training.]

“Thanks.” Chris said. “I appreciate it.”

[Of course. But just promise me that you won’t stay if the situation turns unfavorable.]

Before she could reply, the System interrupted with its own brand of encouragement.

[Notice: Host has entered the domain “Amphitrite’s Veiled Garden”.]

[Resuming trial. Complete the trial to earn rewards.] She tilted her head in understanding; the System had told her that the Domain’s trial had yet to be completed when she’d visited the first time.

“Wait, don’t tell me that the actual trial here is what I’m thinking of?” 

[Affirmative. Primary objective: Retrieve the individual Ilias Chaernenbolg from self imposed confinement. Secondary objective: Free individual Amphitrite Rex from unbound soul state. Primary objective must be completed to receive minimum rewards.]

[Estimated difficulty level at current power: S]

Tell me this shit earlier. Chris sent her annoyed thoughts towards the System. She frowned at its estimated threat level. Wasn’t really thinking of turning back, but I guess it’s too late now anyway. 

[I can’t feel a connection to the garden anymore.] Amphitrite chimed in. [Ilias is in control of the Domain’s mechanisms, be careful. I don’t know what you’ll face from now on.]

“Got it.” Hopefully I’ll last long enough in this condition. She’d gradually begun to sustain more liberal usage of Raisendel in her materialized rapier form, although she wouldn’t be pulling off any flashy moves like she’d done in her duel with Matthias anytime soon. A fully powered Rending Retribution would completely exhaust, if not cripple her right now.

As she thought this, the sky above started to dim. Soon, she could no longer piece out the light of the sun, and everything she could see had darkened into shades of black, like the whole forest had been submerged into a murky abyss. 

She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up while shapeless forms arose from every which way. She strained her mana enhanced senses, but could only barely make out the small and large creatures that were stalking towards her. They were darkspawn, all mimicked by whatever illusion magic Amphitrite had set up to test her descendants. Now, the Domain’s guardian —Ilias— had set them loose against her.

The beings were pulled from the depths of her nightmares. She shivered, the memories of being helplessly trapped on her bed and strangled by the limbs of the abyssal creatures still like raw wounds on her psyche. Before, she at least had Bertram with her to confront them. Now, she was alone.

[They are nothing but illusions. Whatever form they have comes from your memories.] Raisendel said, seeming to read into her thoughts. [Whatever injury they inflict,stems from your own fear. Remember well child, that as long as our bond exists you will never be alone in this world.]

“Got it.” Chris smiled. An elegant rapier formed in her hands, ancient magic tracing past motifs of tempest winds engraved onto the blade. The sword glowed a pale blue, acting as a guiding light in a forest of darkness. A gentle cradle of wind enveloped her, the two’s mana resonating with united resolve. 

Chris marched on, greeting an incoming group of all manners of illusory monsters. She narrowed her eyes at the forms of fake darkspawn crawling out from the ground, along with various other forms she didn’t recognize.

They aren’t real. Not real. She repeated in her head. Her grip on Raisendel tightened, her mind sharpening to a cutting edge akin to her own rapier’s blade. A deep breath cleared her mind of all distractions and worries, leaving only conviction. She greeted her enemies with a ready stance. 

 “Let’s do this.”

_____________________________________

After Ilias awakened from meditation, her once lively crimson orbs grew hazy with weariness. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.”

She’d thought that sleep would solve her problems as it always did, but her dreams had brought no reprieve.

There was a faint tug along the magic coiled around her finger, and she faintly smiled.

“Christiana, no, didn’t she tell me to call her Chris?” An oddly simple name for an oddly persistent and interesting human girl. But a tiny corner of her heart had rejoiced at the young princess’s return; she had felt comforted by the knowledge that anyone could still care for someone like her. 

However...

She should’ve never come here, hissed a traitorous voice in her mind. I should’ve never let her come this close.

How starving was she for another’s company? To see and feel the world with a companion? They’d only met twice and the girl was already prying into her past –a past that Ilias would rather keep hidden. 

Hunted down to the ends of the world. A life lived at the cost of endangering those around her. In all of the world, there was no greater sport for her bloodthirsty brethren.

Stay locked up here. It’s for the good of everyone else, the voice whispered. Remember what happened the last time you joined another?

The exiled demon had wallowed in her misery for gods knew how long, unwilling to move on, and stuck in a loop of her own making. If this child wanted to leave with her, then she had to prove herself capable of weathering whatever storm that would follow. 

This girl will die too.

They’ll all die.

She shook her head away from such thoughts. Her gaze sharpened as she summoned forth a power that had gone dormant in her isolation. As the limits on her strength were broken, her form changed.

Ilias stood up, her stature noticeably taller than the childish form she’d first introduced herself as. Now appearing as a mature woman in the robes that fit around her, she began to manipulate the ambient mana.

“Forgive me, Amphy. Your magic, your legacy, I’m taking control of them for one more time.”

She modified the mechanisms of the Domain to fit her needs with precision and prowess earned from centuries of refinement. All in order to conduct one final test, a gamble to the gods she’d once scorned. To see if fate would favor the day that she could let go of the past.

There is no hope, no salvation, the voice lamented. What’s wrong with staying here? Bask in the good memories, be drunk on whatever happiness you’ve salvaged.

“I’ve been here for so long, and the world hasn’t stopped for either me or you.” She spoke to someone who wasn’t there. Ilias twirled a tiny blue flower in her hand, speaking to the sleeping soul that resided within it. “I thought that I would be satisfied with just fading away into obscurity and oblivion, but it looks like your descendant has other plans.” Ilias smiled, thinking that the two shared similar personalities. The girl had inherited more from Amphitrite than just her blood, it seemed.

“Lorien women sure are stubborn. Although I probably shouldn’t be the one saying that.”

You killed her.

She fell silent.

After a long moment of stillness, she spoke again, and this time her words were towards the girl who advanced towards the garden of her sorrows, her timeless vault of memories. 

Would it soon come time to abandon it?

“I’ll be waiting for you, Chris.” The woman remained on the field, looking into artificial gray clouds that blanketed her self-imposed prison. She couldn’t help but feel uneasy. After all her years of knowledge and accumulated wisdom, there were few that intrigued the ancient demoness. Ilias thought to herself that there was more to the individual named Christiana than she first thought. 

_____________________________________

Chris panted, looking frantically around her to see if any of the creatures remained. Raisendel still glowed, albeit with a dimmer light than before. And with it she could see her reflection on the blade. Her hair had become disheveled, and her skin a shade or two paler than it was at the start. The cost of pushing herself during what was supposed to be a time of recuperation and development.

But it was a cost she could afford to bear.

She leaned on her partner for support, the elf spirit not complaining about being thrust into the dirt. In her soulscape, the ancient being could be seen worriedly floating about, while her ancestor Amphitrite paced around in agitation.

Raisendel wondered if she should call for Christiana to stop. Her contractor might not take heed, but at least the advice wouldn’t fall on deaf ears. Despite this, she couldn’t ignore the waves of determination that echoed out from deep within the nexus of the girl’s soul.

Chris let out a breath of relief when a rejuvenating feeling swept through her, like a breeze in the midst of sweltering heat, knowing that it came from her teacher’s own mana. She readied herself for her next opponent.

[Something’s not right.] Amphitrite said.

“What do you mean?”

[All of your enemies so far wouldn’t be remotely challenging to you on a good day, even with the current condition of your soul and magic taken into account.] She continued. Chris listened while surveying the area around her. [But they’re somehow more difficult to take on than expected. Ilias is trying to scare you away.]

“Is she trying to test me?” 

[I can guess the reason why.]

“What do you mean?” 

[Ilias’s situation is far from normal.]

[She committed a capital offense against their Demon God, and her own clan had forced what they called a “fitting punishment” onto her.] Amphitrite said. Her voice rose with a seething anger. [Those animals called it penitence. The robes she wore were enchanted to alert the Emerald Devils to her position at all times, and made them impossible to remove from the wearer. The damned demons took away all freedom and joy from her life. They would’ve hunted her down for all eternity if it wasn’t for my illusion magic.]

[How revolting.] Raisendel spat in disgust. [I never really liked their ilk. Too bloodthirsty and cruel to earn the gods’ graces, and always shunning those that did.]

[I almost succeeded in freeing her, in figuring out how to dismantle the enchantments in her robes, but… ] Amphitrite continued.

“But what happened?”

[We were found. And I died fighting.] She didn’t elaborate, as if even doing so would relive the memory of that day.

They were interrupted by a sudden rustling of branches. 

Hm? Another darkspawn? Chris turned and froze as she saw her opponent.

A jagged blade as large as she was tore through the top of a tree in front of her. A gauntleted arm ripped off obstructing branches, shredding through ironwood bark like paper with clawed fingers. Her adversary approached with thundering footsteps. 

The sword’s wielder revealed themselves from behind the cover of the tree, towering almost a meter above the lone human girl while donning a full suit of armor. Much of their form was wreathed in an oppressive aura, a notable feature being a helmet adorned with a demon’s visage twisted into a permanent snarl. Soulless crimson eyes stared at her as the terror dragged its weapon, tearing the earth asunder with a sword that could be likened to the brutal maw of Death itself. Its blade was serrated near the hilt, but tapered into a sharp cutting edge at the tip. 

Chris instinctively shuddered at the sight of the monster's full form. The plate it wore seemed to be lined with hundreds of scales of dulled colors that were worn from the wear of time. 

Dragon scales? She wondered, thinking of what kind of power it took for a being to collect the hides of those apex creatures like trophies.

She couldn’t shake off the feeling that she’d seen the armored entity in front of her before. But from where did she recognize its snarling visage? She had definitely never encountered it herself —she wouldn’t be alive at the moment if she did.

[Run!] Raisendel shouted at her in uncharacteristic panic, interrupting her thoughts.

But Chris remained still at seeing the new combatant. Her instincts screamed at her to flee with all her might. But her body, nay, her mana itself had frozen out of pure fear. Such was the effect of staring into the face of certain death, of confronting terror that crippled even the strongest of Wills. 

As if sensing her fear, the figure began to stride forward.

[No. Impossible. He can’t be here. You can’t have met him. They should all be sealed. But how then?] Amphitrite uttered.

S-System.

You are reading story Tragic Heroine at novel35.com

[Affirmative. Compiling requested data…Presenting data]

[Name: Visions of Death]

[Affection meter measurement: 0%]

[Description: You host the memories of a gruesome fate at the hands of a true demon. This fear, carved into your very soul, is now incarnated before you by the magic of another.]

 

She understood in the marrow of her bones and soul: the thing before her was different than all that came before. It could hurt her. Maim her. Kill her. Slaughter her as easily as it did when it…

When what? Chris blinked, confused at her line of thought. She had never even encountered this thing before. All she knew was that it was bad news.

Nope nope nope nope nuh-uh.

Chris wasted no time. She ran in the complete opposite direction of the approaching enemy. But no matter how she tried, she could still hear its thundering footsteps past her panting breath, and feel the ground rattle as its greatsword ground against it like an executioner sharpening his blade against a whetstone.

“What the hell is that!?”

[...The one who slew me.]

The illusion rose its swordarm in preparation for a devastating swing. Its shadow appeared to swallow up the fleeing girl, and she fearfully looked back to see its looming figure eclipse all light.

[Typhon Chaernenbolg.]

An earth shaking crash resounded throughout the entire ironwood forest as its sword swung down. The sheer force emitted shockwaves that seemed to make the world around them erupt. Clouds of dirt and rubble spewed forth from the ground like blood out of an artery. 

Chris twirled to dodge the debris and hastily brandished Raisendel to parry the worst of the projectiles. 

“Argh!” and was struck on the shoulder by one that she missed. She tumbled along the ground before landing in a crumpled heap. 

“Ugh… if this is supposed to be part of the Domain’s illusory defenses, then why does it hit like a truck on steroids?” she gritted out. Raisendel was right, she wasn’t ready for this at all.

The figure approached, and she felt each of its steps resounding through her entire body. At the moment she met eyes with its crimson gaze, fear took hold of her.

It was too real. Its menacing aura, the glow of its eyes, the rattle of its blade against the dirt and rubble.

The rapier in her hand faltered in its brightness, her Will to fight slipping away in the face of an obvious and overwhelming difference in power

Guess that’s that. Should’ve known I was biting off more than I could chew. Chris realized how naive she was. How could she expect for some invisible plot to protect her as it would the protagonist of a novel? Christiana was a tragic heroine whose death was meant to galvanize the main character into action. And here she was –an interloper trying to change that fate. Perhaps this outcome was the Will of the World that Raisendel spoke of.

The illusion of Typhon raised its greatsword with a single arm.

_________________________________________

Inside of Chris’s soulscape, a diminutive dragon raised its head. Pale golden reptilian eyes opened. It growled. 

Loch Segrios Gaoth Aldinn had awakened.

The miniature dragon recognized that he was sell and truly confined. In the dominion of a human’s soul, of all places. A weakling undeserving of his strength or loyalty.

He decided against roaring out with rage, remembering how easily he was subdued by whatever divinity had made its mark on the girl’s soul. He had been chained, captured, and muzzled like an enslaved werebeast. His glorious form, reduced to a mere fragment of its previous majesty. What humiliation! Such shame on the honored names of the warriors that came before him! 

He surveyed the chains of mana that wrapped around him, keeping him trapped in this little girl’s inner sanctum. In the height of his power, such paltry magic should have been nothing before him. But whatever had reduced him to this state had obviously made countermeasures.

The gods enjoyed playing their games.

He snorted, and a puff of smoke left his nostrils. Subversion went against his draconian nature. Loch’s blood boiled at the thought of slinking around; he wasn’t a newborn on its first hunt!

He spied it then. A strand of mana different from the rest. While all others were tinted in the silver and blue colors of noble virtues aspirations , this one was violently shifting, trembling with chaotic intention. His slitted eyes followed its path to the soulscape’s sea, where a mana storm brewed on the horizon.

Elation filled his veins as he recognized an emotion that seethed and thundered within. It was one that he was all too familiar with; he had channeled it into bolts of righteous fury against the enemies of the Archdragon.

Wrath. Marvelous rage, bursting with unharnessed power. It was everywhere within the roiling waters around him. He was in awe, seeing the sheer amount harbored within, not believing that a being as small as a human could nurture such anger. Tapping into it would be no easy task, but time wasn’t an issue for the ancient being.

He dove in, relishing the supercharged energy. His lightning was coming back to him.

Loch gave one last glance towards the cliff side where two others stood: the elf and another merfolk. They haven’t noticed him, likely preoccupied with the more pressing issues of their host.

The waters surged. However long it took, even the hardest stones and most stalwart of Wills, they could all be eroded and weathered away.

The tides rose in unstable currents, and they swept in his favor.

_________________________________________

Is… is this thing grinning at me? Chris thought. Indeed, the illusory demon appeared to be rejoicing in an easy victory. Its sword was raised tauntingly high like a risen guillotine. Its helmet’s previous snarl was morphed into a smug and wicked grin. Like a god sneering at a mortal ant. Mocking her for her weakness.

A vein bulged on Chris’s forehead. She rose up from the ground and dove towards the giant warrior with swirling mana gathered in her open palm.

“Did you think I would just roll over and die, motherfucker?!” Her fist slammed straight into the center of its chestpiece, causing a loud boom on impact. Dust and dirt flew out from great gusts of wind, and once the debris had cleared away it was clear that the monster in front of her stood unmoved.

She jumped up once more and alternated between several kicks in rapid succession, imbuing each one with enough mana to damage an ironwood tree. When the illusion swung its greatsword, she dodged and continued to weave in attacks, carefully avoiding becoming meat paste.

Lastly, she swung her rapier down in successive arcs, fortifying it with cutting wind.

She huffed. Chris couldn’t say with confidence that she was making progress. The monster was shrugging off her blows like they were insect bites.

I need more power. But should she risk pulling off another stunt like the Rending Retribution in her current state? What if it didn’t work, and she left herself crippled and helpless against this facsimile of Typhon?

She was answered in the next moment by an unexpected visitor.

“It hurts me physically to see this bastard again.” A familiar voice sounded out around her. Time and space froze. The illusion stopped all movement, but didn’t fade away as every other construct did. A tear formed in the fabric of space in front of a dumbstruck audience. Long, lithe legs stepped out, followed by strands of glistening green hair and white robes.

A woman who looked similar to Ilias shot a piercing glare at her. 

“You never run out of things that surprise and intrigue me.” 

“Eh? Weren’t you a little girl before?” Chris asked without thinking.

“Your mood changes quickly, huh? Weren’t you trembling in fear before I ended your suffering?” Iliad stepped closer, ignoring Chris’s reply and inspecting the frozen figure of Typhon.

“It’s fake, I know it is… but he looks just like he did the day I lost her. Just as heartless. Just as cold and cruel and overwhelming as he did in his life of slaughter.”

“What?” Chris asked, but found that she couldn’t move. She trembled as Ilias turned her crimson eyes to her again, this time flashing scarlet with barely concealed, simmering rage. 

“I wanted to test your mettle first. See whether you were worth the risk. I never expected this.” Ilias stepped up to the frozen princess. “I sealed my brother away with my own two hands. My magic sustained itself for eons with my own unfaltering Will. And yet you met him. How?”

“I… I don’t know.” Chris spoke the truth, but Ilias didn’t appear to be convinced. She felt her gaze burning a hole into her skull.

“So you deny any involvement. How brave of you. We’ll see about that.”

“W-wait, what are you—”

A dainty hand reached up to cover her eyes.

“Sleep.”

And her world went dark.

_________________________________________

 

A massive greatsw0rd cleaved through Christiana’s right arm. She screamed as the lost limb tumbled to the ground with a great spurt of blood, the vital fluid flowing freely from the gaping wound. Her beloved sword, her Raison d’Etre, lay buried somewhere within the gargantuan bodies of slain monsters, which littered the battlefield like a collection of small hills.

She never stood a chance. 

The princess of Lorien saw her men gaze hopelessly at her, saw the light in their eyes die and usher in despair and horror as she fell. They were encircled by demons. Creatures spoke only in whispered tales and legends, unknown to most of humanity. Now they lost their only hope. Now they would follow her to their deaths.

She’d failed them.

She could only offer a silent apology to her comrades as the demons brandished their weapons at their prisoners.

The monsters. The subjugation quest. It was all a trap. Were those nobles part of it? Did they invite these demons of old back into the world, right in the heart of Lorien? She prayed to the gods that her family would be alright. That her people would survive.

“You’ve lost.” A deep voice filled with apathy said. She ignored it, instead crawling on the bloodstained ground in search of her item. The communication crystal that Erfin had enchanted. She had to warn them. Her friends. Everyone. Rayden. They had to know that there was danger coming for them all! 

A gauntleted hand held her leg down. The sheer weight began to crush it, and she screamed herself hoarse. 

“Oi, listen when I’m talking to you.” The man appeared disinterested, albeit slightly amused —like a person toying with a bug on the ground.

The armored warrior raised his sword one last time. She flinched, and heard the anguished screams of her men ring out. The laughter of demons. The man chuckled at their reaction, and leaned his massive form down to speak to her paling face.

“How precious. How sad. Barely out of your mother’s womb and sent to fight. I’ve always respected and at the same time, pitied you humans.” His amusement ended there, replaced by a cold tone.

“Your ancestor gave her life to stop me. Destroyed an entire legion with her magic, that witch. Couldn’t escape my blade in the end, of course. Her blood now sits deep within her homeland’s soil.”

“My sister,” he began to laugh. “The brat, after running for so many years, bested me! Put me under a rock for how many centuries or millennia after.” He moved his helmet closer to her, such that she could see how each fang that lined the snarling face had a different shape and size. How there were nicks and scars in the metal from a lifetime of war.

“How ironic, then, that it was humans in this country that set me free.” 

Her eyes widened, she wanted to press him for more, but only wheeze came out. Dark blood threatened to rise up from her throat.

“Oh, and since you held your own against me for so long, I guess you deserve this honor.”

“My name is Typhon Chaernenbolg. A general to the Demon God’s ravenous legions. Clan master of the Emerald Devils.” He raised his sword again. “I don’t know how many I’ve slaughtered, but I’m sure you’ll find good company in the underworld.”

He thrust down.

A sharp pain turned into a deluge of agony in her chest. The sounds of killing entered her ears, and a feeling of coldness, of fatigue and oblivion, seeped into her veins. 

She hesitated at the gates of death.

“Ah…” her lips moved inaudibly. It was ok. She did her best. The gods would surely welcome her with open arms. However,

 

“I wanted… to see him… again.”