Chapter 235
A flash of silver light seemed to tear the very air, followed instantly by the blunt, heavy sound of a body collapsing, pitching forward into the churned earth.
The attacker, a figure impossibly small for the violence she wrought, tossed aside strands of long, golden hair that had fallen across her face, already poised to sprint towards her next target.
Her movements were a whirlwind of controlled chaos, drawing not only the panicked ire of her enemies, but also sharp, protective criticism from a voice calling out across the battlefield.
“Ais! Come back! I can’t protect you out there!” Riveria, yelled in the distance.
At only nine years old, Ais possessed a striking, almost ethereal appearance.
Her golden hair flowed like spun sunlight, framing a delicate face, while her large, golden eyes held an unusual intensity.
Together, these features gave her the unsettling appearance of an exquisite porcelain doll come to life.
Though her usually rosy cheeks were now streaked with the grime of battle and the less welcome stain of blood, the grim markings seemed only to highlight her beauty, doing nothing to diminish the chilling value placed upon her by allies and enemies alike.
Despite her tender age and tiny frame, she wielded a full-sized silver sword with surprising ease, her small fingers curled confidently around the hilt.
“It’s fine, I can do it,” Ais replied, her voice a soft, almost emotionless monotone that carried surprisingly clearly over the din of combat.
She ignored Riveria’s increasingly desperate cries, already sprinting, a silver blur darting towards another cluster of evilus soldiers – the very enemies Finn had directed her blade towards.
Panic flared among the approaching group.
“G-golden hair and golden eyes! It’s the Doll Princess!” one soldier stammered, recognition flashing in his eyes, swiftly followed by terror.
“Who else looks like that?!”
Ais tightened her grip on her sword.
“It’s War Princess,” she grumbled under her breath, a rare flicker of irritation showing on her otherwise impassive face.
She hated being called a doll, especially by strangers.
It felt dismissive of her purpose, her strength.
Currently, Ais was a level 3 adventurer – an achievement almost unheard of for someone so young.
Yet, despite her diminutive size, it was folly to underestimate her.
She was a genuine threat, a miniature killing machine.
She was clad in a unique set of blue battle clothes, heavy-duty Pallum armour specially refitted and scaled down, affectionately known as the ‘Alice Dress of War’.
Finn himself had commissioned it, designed for maximum protection and mobility specifically tailored for combat against humanoid opponents.
Moving like the wind, Ais weaved through the ranks of the evilus soldiers, a silver streak of motion.
Her sword was a blur, slashing, stabbing, and parrying with decent technique.
She wasn’t aiming to kill, but to incapacitate, her blade finding limbs and joints.
Before long, the immediate area around her was littered with groaning, disabled figures.
“This… this can’t be happening,” the leader of the small evilus team muttered, staring in disbelief at his fallen soldiers.
“She took them all down so fast… and didn’t kill a single one.”
It was a difficult feat, neutralizing opponents actively trying to take your life; it was far easier, far more instinctive, to simply end them.
But as Ais silver sword danced, parrying blows and disabling foes, not once did she succumb to bloodlust or the easier path to victory.
Her sole purpose, was to neutralize, to render them harmless.
Nothing more.
“Ais! I said come back!” Riveria’s voice cut through the quiet settling around Ais.
This time, it held a sharp edge of finality, her motherly patience worn thin.
“I have had it with you ignoring me!”
It was Riveria who had imposed the stricture of "no killing" on Ais in this battle.
Her deep-seated maternal instincts recoiled at the thought of such a young girl staining her hands with the blood of other people.
Slaying monsters in the dungeon was one thing; they were undeniably alien and hostile.
Aiming that terrifyingly sharp blade at another person, another thinking being, felt like a burden too heavy for Ais young soul.
This was why she had no adequate retort when Finn, had pointed out her hypocrisy.
Allowing boys as young as Raul to face the dangers of the front lines while trying to shield Ais from the same was illogical, though emotionally understandable.
She knew Finn was right on a logical level, but the feelings knotting in her gut were a different matter entirely.
Clutching her side, where aching injuries flared from trying to keep pace with Ais reckless charge, Riveria began to walk, slowly but purposefully, towards the girl who felt like a daughter to her.
“That girl… she’s a monster,” the last standing evilus soldier cursed under his breath, hidden behind some rubble.
Though the three units he’d been leading were small, he had felt a sense of pride in his command.
Now, his entire force was decimated by one single girl.
Valletta, his commander, was not a forgiving person.
He knew the brutal fate that awaited him if he fled, disgraced.
‘I have to do this’ the man thought, a desperate resolve hardening his features.
He slipped a shaky hand into his robe, his fingers closing around the cool, rough surface of an inferno stone – a last resort, given for such desperate occasions.
“O Lord! I offer up my life in…”
He didn’t get to finish the suicidal mantra.
A flicker of silver light, impossibly fast, danced past his eyes.
He tried to press the trigger embedded in the stone, but his hands refused to obey.
For a confused moment, he didn't understand why.
Then, a sickening lurch in his stomach confirmed the horrific truth.
His hands were completely missing.
Cleanly severed from his shoulders.
“Finn told me how you guys blow yourselves up,” a monotone voice stated calmly from behind him.
“I won’t let that happen.”
As the realization fully dawned, a crimson geyser erupted from the stumps where his hands had been.
‘She cut my hands… without touching the bomb’ the man thought, his mind reeling in agony and disbelief.
‘I can’t reach it…’ His body crumpled, falling backward onto the blood-soaked ground.
“It’s over,” Ais said, her voice flat, as she flicked her sword, sending droplets of blood spiraling into the air.
The immediate sound of battle around her ceased, replaced by the more distant clash of steel and shouts from the main conflict.
A small, internal sense of satisfaction bloomed within Ais.
She had completed her task efficiently.
That nascent feeling was abruptly shattered by a firm, stinging smack on the back of her head.
“Ugh,” Ais groaned, reflexively rubbing the spot.
“’It’s over’ is just what you think, you careless child!” Riveria’s voice, sharp with exasperation and underlying fear, cut through the air.
She had reached Ais, her expression a mixture of relief and annoyance.
“This isn’t the dungeon out here, it’s a war! You never, ever let your guard down until you are somewhere safe!”
Ais, however, wasn’t truly listening to the lecture.
She kept rubbing her head, turning to peer up at Riveria with large, teary golden eyes.
It was moments like these that she acted her age, albeit subtly.
If Loki had been present, they would undoubtedly have fallen for the act instantly, wanting to scoop up the ‘adorable little girl’ and take her far away from this grim reality.
“Why don’t you listen to me, young lady? Why do you never listen when I’m talking to you?!” Riveria pressed, her voice rising slightly.
Seeing that Riveria wasn’t falling for her feigned tears this time, Ais facade crumbled slightly. Her gaze softened, and she finally spoke, her voice small but earnest.
“Well… I thought they were no match for me,” she said simply, as if stating an obvious truth. “And I was right.”
“That is exactly what I’m talking about! You…..” Riveria began, ready to launch back into her scolding, but Ais interjected again, her voice gaining a quiet sincerity that stopped the High Elf mid-sentence.
“I also did it because… because you are hurt,” Ais said, looking down at the ground for a moment before meeting Riveria’s eyes.
Upon hearing this, Riveria froze, her planned lecture vanishing.
“So I thought… I had to work harder,” Ais continued, articulating her simple, child-like logic.
“I didn’t want to see you hurt again.”
It was a gesture of love, pure and innocent, a child’s uncomplicated affection for a cherished member of her familia, someone who had taken on the role of a protector and mother figure.
Ais was young, inherently shy, and often awkward expressing deep emotions with words.
She simply stated the raw, unfiltered truth of her feelings.
Riveria closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep, steadying breath.
When she opened them, the frustration had softened, replaced by warmth.
She knelt on the ground, bringing her emerald green eyes level with Ais’s wide, golden ones.
“Ais,” she said, choosing her words carefully, her voice gentle.
“I am happy you care that much about me. Believe me, I really am grateful.” She reached out and gently cupped Ais’s cheek.
“But please, do not forget that I feel the same way about you. I worry about your safety, Ais. Even more than I worry about my own.”
“Okay,” Ais replied, nodding her head slowly, absorbing the words.
“Now, come here,” Riveria said, coaxing her closer.
“Let’s get that blood cleaned up.”
Sensing that the immediate danger of a scolding had passed, Ais trotted over, like a docile kitten seeking comfort.
She lowered her head, presenting her face for cleaning with unquestioning trust.
Riveria pulled a clean white scarf from her cloak and began gently scrubbing the blood and dirt from Ais cheeks.
A small, tender smile played on Riveria’s lips as she cleaned the girl’s face.
But her smile quickly faded, replaced by a somber expression, as her gaze fell upon the scarf now stained crimson.
“Ais…” Riveria’s voice dropped, becoming quiet and serious.
She looked down at the bloodied cloth with sadness in her eyes.
“Don’t ever get used to the smell of blood.”
Ais watched her, her golden eyes wide and attentive.
“To kill another person… it is something that should be abhorred,” Riveria continued, her voice heavy with the weight of experience.
She looked back up at Ais, her gaze piercing.
“Remember that. Never forget that it’s people you are fighting, not monsters. But,” she qualified, the pragmatism of a warrior surfacing, “there are sometimes people begin acting like monsters. Those you can kill without hesitation, if there is no other choice.”
Ais stared at Riveria, her young face contemplative.
She didn’t offer an immediate answer, perhaps still processing the complex nuances of Riveria’s words.
She simply stared back, appearing lost in thought.
“Riveria,” she spoke at last, her voice hesitant.
“Yes, Ais?”
“Why do people kill each other?” Ais asked.
It was a question that had never truly occurred to her when fighting monsters; their hostility was a given, an instinctual drive.
But fighting people felt different.
Riveria was momentarily startled by the suddenness of the question.
She held her tongue for a moment, knowing this wasn’t a question to be answered carelessly.
“I know about the Evilus,” Ais went on, trying to articulate the confusion swirling in her mind. “But… don’t we have other things to fight?” she pressed, glancing towards the direction of the distant dungeon entrance.
“Shouldn’t we be fighting the monsters instead of each other?” Ais insisted, her voice soft but carrying a child’s clear logic.
Riveria sighed, a sound heavy with weariness.
She looked up at the wide expanse of the sky above them, the grey a stark contrast to the red on the ground.
“Sigh… you are right, Ais,” she said, her voice low.
“You are absolutely right.” She looked back down at the blood-stained scarf, then at the small, earnest face of the girl who had just dispatched over a dozen people without taking a life.
“What fools we are… to spill the blood of our brethren so easily.” The words were muttered almost to herself, a lament for the endless, cyclical tragedy of conflict.
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