The Girl Raised by the Death God Holds the Sword of Darkness in Her Arms - Volume 4 - Chapter 5.8

VIII

“I have word that Lieutenant Colonel Claudia has slain the enemy commander. Their forces have thus ceased all organized attacks. We will now shift to cleaning up the remnants.”

The runner wore a beaming smile.

“Knew we could count on the lieutenant colonel. So far as I can tell, our victory is assured.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Olivia agreed. “Right, I’m off for a bit, so you look after the rest, Ashton.”

She slipped from Comet’s saddle and petted the horse’s back, saying, “I’ll be back soon, okay?” Then, inexplicably, she set off walking west. In that direction lay a forest.

“Excuse me? What’ve you got to do in the forest that you’re leaving me in charge?” Ashton called after her. “Don’t tell me you’re going to catch a bird or something because you’re hungry.”

“I wouldn’t tell you that. There aren’t any tasty-looking birds around here.”

“So if they looked tasty, you would?” Ashton retorted. Olivia cackled, but didn’t stop walking. They should have been about to declare victory, but how could they when the legion commander, the most important role, was absent?

Ashton explained this to Olivia, but all she said was, “You two take care of all that.” With that, she vanished between the trees.

“You seem to really enjoy hide-and-seek, but do you really want to keep going?” Olivia pushed her way through the forest until she came to one tree and looked up into its branches. There was a rustle of leaves and a small shadow dropped straight down to the ground.

The shadow—a man—stood up in one smooth motion. “How’d you know?” he said, without any trace of apology. He was dressed all in black with a mask, like the rats Olivia had seen elsewhere. Yet there were small variations in his attire, and more significantly, the quality of the bloodlust she sensed in him was entirely different. This, Olivia concluded, was a different species of rat from the ones she’d met before.

“You did a good job of veiling your bloodlust, but you still focused too much on me.”

“Ah, so that was it.” A chuckle escaped the man’s throat.

“By the way, why are you so small?” Olivia asked. She’d been wondering ever since she’d first laid eyes on the man. He was an adult, but he couldn’t have been taller than Patty from the Ashcrow Inn. Even if he hadn’t gotten enough to eat during his growth spurt, that wouldn’t explain his being this small. It was a mystery on the same level as the mysterious mystery box of mysteries.

“Being this size has all sorts of advantages in an assassin’s line of work. It’s as simple as that,” the man replied matter-of-factly.

“You mean you’re that size on purpose?”

“Well, I did will myself to stop growing, so yes. I suppose I am.”

“Wow. That’s a surprise.” Olivia had never heard of anyone willing themselves to stop growing, not even in a book. Even now, the world was full of things she didn’t know. She felt a childlike sense of amazement.

“You’re one to talk. While you were out there playing soldiers, I saw chance after chance to take your head off. Only, even though you look laughably defenseless, in reality, you’re anything but. I thought in that case, I’d hit you with my Qi and that would end you, but you laughed it off—even though I threw enough Qi at you to knock out a normal person. But then, you’re of the Deep Folk, our old enemy.”

Olivia was always being called “monster” and “death god,” but this was the first time she had heard “deep folk.” She asked the man what it meant and saw the eyes peering out of his mask ever so slightly widen.

“You don’t even know your people?” he said. “But then again, that’s not so strange. You were only a baby, after all.”

“Huh? Do you know something about me?” Olivia, who had thought Z was the only one who knew about her infancy, felt a sudden rush of interest in the man. He might even know where Z had gone.

“I never dreamed you’d still be alive after going into the Forest of No Retu—”

“Okay, whatever. Do you know about Z?”

“Z?” The man paused, then said, “And what if I do?”

“You do know, don’t you!” Olivia cried, leaning forwards excitedly. The man quickly drew back, then leapt lightly into a tree.

“Won’t you tell me?”

“Whatever happens, you’re going to die here. Knowing won’t help you.” With that, the man came at her, freewheeling through the air between the trees and the ground as he released knife after needle-shaped knife at her with no discernible pattern. Only when Olivia had knocked them all down did he return to the ground.

“You are better trained than the Deep Folk I fought long ago. I see why Nefer was worried...”

“Have you given up? Will you tell me about Z now?” Olivia leaned in towards the man again, but then her hand brushed against something. Red liquid dripped to the ground.

“Huh?” Straining her eyes, she saw something that looked like threads drawn taut all around her without gaps. It looked like it’d be tough to get through without touching them.

“You finally noticed.”

“What is this?” she asked, lightly prodding the thread in front of her eyes. She could tell it wasn’t ordinary thread, but nor was it steel wire or anything of that sort.

“Specially crafted thread made from the silk of the Chano cocoon, imbued with my Odh. It cuts better than any crude blade.” He drew his left hand back and, with a straining noise, Olivia saw the threads begin to close in on her. She put her hand on her sword. 

Madala watched Olivia draw the ebony blade. “Don’t make this difficult with futile resistance,” he said without expression. “No mere blade can cut through my threads. Escape from the Boundary of Mortal Severance is impossi—?!”

Without any forewarning, Olivia threw the sword. It sliced easily through the threads that stretched out from the back of his left hand and impaled his right shoulder. Madala was thrown backwards by the impact and pinned to a tree behind him.

Unbelievable. She cut through my threads, he thought. Injuries sustained, laceration to the right shoulder. Otherwise...unharmed.

He took hold of the hilt of the ebony blade that pierced both him and the great tree to pull it out. As he did so, a hand pale as eggshells covered his own. There was only one person it could be. It was Olivia.

“Your scurrying around was getting annoying,” she explained. With a smile, she pushed the sword in deeper. Madala felt a burst of pain in his shoulder as blood spurted from it unchecked. Beneath his mask, his face contorted with agony. When more than half the length of the blade was buried in the tree trunk, Olivia at last removed her hand. It would be impossible to pull it out now that it was embedded so deeply.

“Now I can listen without distractions. So, could you tell me about Z?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you.”

“Okay, where is Z no—”

“I don’t know a damn thing about anyone called Z.”

Olivia paused. “You lied?” She was still smiling, but all color had drained from her eyes. Madala felt ice-cold sweat run down his back.

“I never lied. All I said was, ‘And what if I do?’ You just jumped to conclusions.”

Olivia sighed. “Human language really is so difficult.” Her hands reached out slowly to cradle Madala’s face. With a loud crack the mask covering it fell to the ground in pieces.

“You’ve beaten me, in spite of everything...” he told Olivia. “But this is the beginning, not the end. From here on out, you—the Deep Folk—shall know no peace. My brethren, the Asura, will make sure of that.”

“Do you mean you have other friends who know about me?”

“And what if I do?”

There was a pause, then Olivia said, “I can’t wait to meet them.”

Madala felt extraordinary pressure on his temporal bones. Through the gaps between Olivia’s fingers, he caught a glimpse of her face. She wore a sweet smile that sent a chill through his soul.