He had let the darkness overtake him.

  At this vital moment, he had regained his clarity as though he were an outside observer.

  Was this truly what he wanted? To throw his life away in some tantrum?

  What he wanted…

  The world wasn’t interested in what he wanted.

  If it were up to him, he would never have met these bastards, not to mention throwing his life away in battle with them.

  Sigh. This is taking a little long, isn’t it?

  He had heard that time moved slower close to death, but this felt a little ridiculous.

  Just as he was trying to figure out a means of expediting his own demise, he felt a warm and wide hand on his shoulder.

  “Eli,” he heard, nearly jumping out of his skin at the familiar voice. “It’s fine.”

  The rough-haired boy didn’t turn around, almost disbelieving what was happening. He hesitated for a long time but managed a faltering “Dad?”

  “So you still recognise this old man?” he asked sarcastically, turning him around to face him.

  “But…”

  He was so confused.

  “I saw everything,” he said, grey eyes meeting yellow. “You needn’t be afraid, though. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, I promise.”

  Elijah felt a plethora of emotions shoot through him at the words, but took in a deep breath instead– this wasn’t the time to process all this.

  Later.

  Hopefully.

  Instead, he nodded solemnly, acknowledging his father’s words.

  “You fought well.”

  Those words, which left a strange tingling in the young Lycan’s chest, were the last thing he heard before he came to.

  He found himself in the same position he had been in before; his dad must have pulled him into his mindscape[1] for the conversation.

  Feeling simultaneously complicated and relieved, he reversed the transformation and released his victim from his grasp, raising his hands above his head in surrender as the ash evaporated.

  The result was a vicious strike to the temple with the back of the silver dagger, which caused him to fall to his knees.

  The brutal sting produced a strained smile, and he kept his hands raised while they attended to their injured teammates.

  “You bastard!”

  The impassioned cry came after Yachit had finished inspecting the damage to her teammate's hands. The osu dog hadn’t held back at all, and all the bones in her hands had been shattered like pottery.

  She rushed at him and punted him to the ground with her steel-toed boots.

  Although it was a pretty brutal strike –much more powerful than he had expected from a regular person of her level– Elijah was unbothered and merely smiled cockily even as she sat on his chest, pinning him to the ground and landing punch after punch on his face with bloodcurdling ferocity.

  No harm will come to you, he’d said… I’m never listening to that man again.

  One could hardly blame the boy for losing some confidence in his father since the first thing that happened after his reassurances had been a clobbering. Luckily, she seemed to be tiring herself out.

  Damn it!

  Her wound had reopened from her exertion, and since it was her dominant hand, she hadn’t been able to bring even two-thirds of her usual brawn to bear despite the rabidity of her attacks. She yanked him upwards, having to extract the head, half-buried in the ground beneath, to inspect her handiwork.

  To her great chagrin, though, not only was he fine, but his powerful healing factor was already at work and in no time, there would be no evidence of her fury on his person.

  Such blows were no laughing matter, and he was in a great deal of pain, but the combination of his father’s reassurance and his opponent’s desperation did something to soothe his injuries, and he managed another cocky smirk.

  Her face twisted resentfully at this.

  You’re dead!

  She raised her fist high in preparation for another strike, and most bizarrely, it seemed to turn to stone as a dangerous red energy condensed around it. It was now closer to a miniature comet than a fist.

  Elijah’s relaxed mood completely evaporated at this, and he tried to trigger his transformation. He was certain he’d be killed if he took a hit like that directly without any buffers.

  “What’s going on here?”

  The trill of a sing-song voice broke through the tension on their little battlefield and drew the attention of everyone on the field towards the speaker.

  At some point, unobserved by all engaged, a luxurious horse-drawn carriage had arrived at the very edge of the fighting. It was from this eccentric vehicle that the question had originated.

  The next moment, the door was flung open automatically, revealing the surprise visitor and causing everyone present to hiss internally.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Not her,” was the universal sentiment.

  Stepping down, and apparelled in uniquely Human attire (the frills of her garments and softness of her shoes approaching the ostentation of a child’s doll), a dark and small girl with long hair, braided generously with threads of blue that matched the dress, made herself visible to them.

  “Lady Chukwudifu,” Julnan said respectfully, making sure to perform a sincere half-bow and signalling the rest of his team to do the same.

  Her gaze passed over the scene with contemptuous amusement, and she dismissed their greetings with a careless twitch of her finger. For a second, though, her eyes locked on the still-bound Elijah, and she flashed a cold smirk at him. This extracted a wince from the Lycan, but no one else noticed, as their full attention was on the eccentric heiress.

  Why did it have to be her? Julnan asked himself.

  He recalled the warnings his master had given him about many dangerous figures around whom he ought to tread lightly, including the young master’s own brothers. The Lady Chukwudifu stood out among that roster because she was the only one who was that young.

  If she were just a mere heiress, then the situation wouldn’t be as pernicious. No, this doll-like young lady posed a challenge for more reasons than one.

  Firstly, the Chukwudifu clan to which she belonged was not one of the rabble among the nobility (sometimes, even the landed gentry[2] fancied themselves nobility) but actually a major player involved in close to a quarter of all the trade that went on in the Lowlands.

  Secondly, she had a special talent for inciting conflict, seemingly for the simple pleasure of the fallout.

  Their only hope was that she was merely passing by and therefore disinclined to disrupt their activities too much.

  “I recall asking what was going on,” she said after a period of silence.

  “My apologies, young mistress,” was the reply, “we’re merely running an errand for our master, Busa.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be in this horrid state,” she said, pointing the fan she held with a loose yet elegant grip at them, indicating the state of their uniforms from the violent exchange. “And all this when you had the numerical advantage.”

  It was quite true that they all cut sorry figures in the aftermath of such a struggle and that their superior numbers should have let them deal with the issue with far more composure than they had managed, but her critical comments still left their sting.

  “Your words are very apt, young mistress. We can only reflect on our shortcomings and do better, and so not bring the Lion to shame by our ineptitude.”

  Julnan’s answer was quite impressive; rather than getting into an argument with the young mistress, he accepted her words (there were few things more futile than arguing with a Highborn) but also reminded her that they were representatives of nobility themselves, without implying any threat.

  Even Yachit couldn’t help but note his seeming aptitude for statecraft in his favour.

  It had to be understood that although Reigina was a land of great brutality and violence, it was also one of convention and formalities. The slightest breach of etiquette might be taken up as an offence and constitute a problem for one’s faction. It was like tightrope walking on a sword suspended over fire– treacherous to say the least.

  Chaina’s smile grew two sizes, but the expansion made it seem all the colder, by contrast. As though she were getting ready to reveal a set of reptilian fangs at any moment.

  “So,” she said, “what is it you’re doing for your master that requires causing such a ruckus?”

  “With all due respect, young mistre–”

  “You wanted to say that this matter is a private matter of your clan, right?” she asked condescendingly, anticipating his words.

  “You must understand…”

  “I mustn't do anything,” she continued, “not when mere lackeys harass one of my servants.”

  The declaration shocked everyone present, and none more than the person she was referring to, Elijah.

  When did that happen? He asked himself in alarm, though he maintained a neutral expression.

  Julnan, who had thought he had the situation under his control, could feel it slipping rapidly. She was clearly lying, but it was more than impossible to accuse her of that. In this realm, the veracity of your claims was directly proportional to your power. Even if she had said the sky was pink, they would not be in a position to casually contradict her.

  The same would be the case, although to a lesser extent, even if Young Master Busa were present, as he was the youngest main scion of the Dari clan and could definitely yield far less power than the Chukwudifu heiress.

  As the gears in his head turned, a careless comment was grumbled by one of his subordinates.

  “Since when do Goblin Highborns keep osu as servants?”

  Before anyone could even blink, a vicious lash cut through the air and landed on the offender.

  The very next moment, the servant who had spoken was writhing on the ground and screaming in pain.

  “Young mistress…” Julnan was at a loss for words, but gestured subtly to the rest of them not to move.

  “Yes, Julnan?” she asked sweetly. Her honeyed words did nothing to belie the evil she had planned for them, though.

  Despite his surprise at hearing his name called out suddenly, the young team leader composed himself and tried to address this eccentric demon calmly.

  Yachit, on the other hand, could barely contain herself and had to ball her fists till they made a cracking sound, just to keep herself from exacerbating the already problematic situation.

  This apparently amused Chaina to no end, and she smiled haughtily.

  “You’re angry?”

  Before Julnan could say anything, she raised her hand to silence him and allow the girl to speak.

  “Yes,” the Highborn retainer said through clenched teeth.

  “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully, placing the folded fan under her chin and pouting her lips as she did.

  “I don’t see why you would be, to be honest.”

  She had expected total rage at her words, but the usually eruptive young girl assumed a cold fa?ade and listened to what the Goblin heiress said.

  “It’s as you said earlier: if a dog tries to make sport of a lion, what is the only conceivable result? I merely beat up a dog for testing me, and you should all be grateful; had I even decided to kill him for his insolence, it wouldn’t have gone beyond me needing to compensate your master a small sum. This fan is worth much more than most of your lives.”

  She threw the fan away as she said this, but the tall driver, who still held on to the whip he had used on one of the servants, received said fan from her with such delicacy that it seemed to validate her claim.

  This was the reality of Reigina. It was a jungle, and there was always a bigger predator out there. They had acted as they liked with an osu like Elijah, and indeed, even if they had killed him, the most they would need to do was offer a propitiatory sacrifice to the Earth Goddess, since the osu were specially marked out for her.

  The reality of the scenario did not make it any easier to swallow, though, and the resentment of the group was tangible.

  Surprisingly, though, Yachit’s voice rang out with reason instead of the expected impetuousness.

  “Thank you for taking the time to instruct us, young mistress,” she said with a deep bow, “we will take your words to heart… With your permission, though, we will take our leave, as some of our members have received serious wounds and require treatment.”

  Chaina seemed as though her appetite for torment had been sated, and she bade them farewell with instructions to tell their master that she was anxious to share a cup of tea with him sometime and that her doors were always open to him.

  This was met with respectful affirmation.

  In a few moments, the formerly chaotic battlefield had been cleared, and the only ones who remained were the heiress, her attendants and the lost osu, who had not moved from his position other than to bow respectfully towards her.

  She looked him up and down with disdain before giving a sharp “You’re late!”