Lilieth doubled over and vomited all over the floor again. The nauseating feeling of molten bile traveling up her throat and out her mouth was incredibly revolting, and she didn’t like the fact that she was starting to get used to it.

  “—Kgh, ah, argh...”

  She had let her guard slip for just a moment, and like a stalking predator, that memory resurfaced. She had been slowly walking through the cave, using her hands to feel around the walls as she head for the exit. And every so often, her mind will unwittingly play back that memory. That brutal scene.

  Every part of it was so vivid. The sight of blood was bad enough, but the stench was even worse. Why did her memory have to be so strong? She had always believed that her perfect memory was given to her by Eulalie as a gift, but now, she saw it as just another one of the curses She ... no, she saddled her with.

  Wiping away the leftover puke from the corners of her mouth, Lilieth continued her slow walk forward. She had wanted to at least bring Talgerda with her, so that she could give her a proper burial. And she tried. But Talgerda’s body was in such a bad shape that she worried it would just fall apart if she tried to drag it with her.

  Lilieth didn’t want to see such a sight. She didn’t want to hear the sounds it would make, or the pervasive stench it would leave behind. She knew if she did, this accursed mind of hers would jot it all down with perfect strokes, and add to her already growing list of tormenting memories.

  She shook her head. Don’t think about it now. If she began to think, then she’d eventually remember. She had already puked a handful of times while walking, and was certain that she’d already completely thrown up her entire breakfast. She didn’t want to know what else would come out if she vomited again. Right now, she had to focus on getting out.

  The only thing of Talgerda’s that she was able to bring with her were her two swords. The longsword, and the shoddy shortsword that belonged to her twin brother. She carried them around her waist, the longsword’s scabbard dragging across the ground. It was far too long a sword for a girl as small as her.

  After a few more minutes, she had finally reached the end, only to be met with rubble blocking the exit. She touched it, just to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. It was rough, hard, and very real. She was trapped inside.

  “Right,” she said. “They ... he said to seal the ... the entrance...”

  She tried to recall Verlaine’s words when she died, trying desperately to remember only those words and nothing else. It was a laborious task, and the moment she had done so, she immediately focused right back to the problem in front of her.

  She closed her eyes and focused within herself, checking how much mana she had regained during her sleep. Blessings were a strange thing. All she needed to do was focus deeply, and everything she needed to know would be known. Her level, how much mana she had, how much mana she could carry, her spells, how much mana each spell used, and so on.

  All people had mana in their bodies, but only the Blessed can intuitively feel it like this. She focused deeper, trying to gauge how much mana she had, and-—

  “...Huh? It’s full?”

  Mana regenerated naturally over time. It was a slow process, which could be hastened using mana potions and the like. But Lilieth’s mana reserves were completely topped off. So either she had been dead long enough for the mana to fill completely, or...

  “...Or my resurrection caused my mana to fill up? This is going to take some getting used to.”

  Talking about her own death and resurrection so casually was certainly an experience she didn’t expect to have.

  She placed her hand on the wall, and chanted, “[Sculpta].”

  Lilieth’s hand sunk into the stone, which had become soft like clay, and she began to claw her way out. She only made a hole small enough for her to crawl through, since she didn’t want to use up too much mana.

  Once she had finally broken through the other side, Lilieth stood up and saw destruction spread out before her.

  Trees flattened, their leaves gone entirely. Every blade of grass was missing, and the soil seemed dull and devoid of nutrients. What greenery existed could only be seen far into the distance, and Lilieth immediately realized that all this destruction created a path that led towards Zusa’s direction.

  Lilieth could only stand agape at the sight. Was Zusa saved? Was that creature defeated? Looking at the scenery around her, it was hard to imagine that such a monster could be defeated.

  “...Haah.”

  Lilieth took a deep breath to calm herself down. After using Sculpta to reseal the entrance, she started walking. Not towards Zusa, but towards the direction of the next major city: Artemest. It was the fourth largest of the Krysanthian megalopoleis, though she’s never actually been there before.

  She didn’t know if that monster was still alive, so heading to Zusa could be dangerous. There was also a chance that she’d find Verlaine and the others there, and she couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t finish the job if they ever found out she was still alive.

  Not that she saw herself as alive.

  “Now that I think about it, it’s strange that the creature went for Zusa instead of Artemest,” she said to herself.

  Even though Zusa was more populated, Artemest was closer. Why did it start heading towards the farther city?

  Then again, the creature was an anomaly. For all she knew, it might’ve simply chosen a random direction, and happened to march towards Zusa. There was simply too much she didn’t know. What that creature was, what the swords were, why she was given that vision...

  The horse she bought from Markosh was gone. Devoured, in all likelihood. At any rate, she’d have to walk all the way to Artemest now. As for what she’d do after she arrived, well, she hadn’t thought about it.

  She began her walk, until the patches of destruction eventually gave way to greenery, and she was surrounded by trees once again. The forest was quiet, though. All living things had probably fled when that monster emerged.

  Then, in the distance, she saw something. Smoke, rising from somewhere within the forest. Not black smoke, but gray. A campfire? She walked in that direction until she arrived, seeing a man sitting on a log by the flame. A familiar face.

  “Lord Markosh...” Lilieth muttered, catching the man’s attention.

  He had an empty bottle of ale in his hand, and his face was flush red. A scowl was on his face. “You again...”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He scoffed. “What else? Runnin’ away. Zusa’s done for.”

  A chill fell down Lilieth’s spine. “Done for? Did that monster actually...”

  “So ya know?” he jeered with a slur to his lips. “Didja see that monster fer yerself? Blasted thing’s too bloody big. It’d be a miracle if th’city’s still standin’.”

  “But ... Verlaine, he should have...”

  “Verlaine of the Hundred Accolades, eh? Yeah, I did see him an’ his folk headin’ towards that thing last I saw.”

  “Did he lose?” Lilieth asked.

  “Bah, who knows. I didn’t stick around to find out, that’s fer sure. I ain’t countin’ on it. Verlaine can hunt himself a dragon, but that thing ain’t no dragon. Proper monster, that was. Stupid, blasted little ... fuck!”

  Markosh threw the empty bottle and a nearby tree. The bottle shattered, the sound startling Lilieth.

  “I don’t got nothin’ no more! All me money, me house, all of it! I ran as soon as I saw the damned thing! And now it’s gonna eat everyone! Everythin’! Can’t stay here. But, I don’t even got a single coin left ... fuck!”

  Markosh buried his face in his hands, venom seeping from his every word. Lilieth had no words of comfort for him. She couldn’t find any. She wasn’t Talgerda, who always knew what to say. Knew ... what to...

  She shook her head. Do not remember that scene. Do NOT remember.

  “Lord Markosh, it’s alright. Everything will be alright,” she said, not knowing if she believed it. Empty words were all she could offer, but she had to at least try. “Zusa won’t fall. Even if it has, that monster will be dealt with. A Fourth will be sent here to slay it, surely. And then—”

  “You. Yer a noble, aint’cha?” Markosh spoke, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes rose to meet hers, and she could feel her entire body convulse with fear.

  “Pardon?”

  “Yer loaded. Must be. Ain’t nobody got two hundred gold jus’ to buy a bloody horse.” Markosh stood up, and drew a small dagger from his waist.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Lilieth’s entire body began to freeze over. Her breathing hastened. She could feel herself lose control over her own body as it shook. He didn’t need to say anything else. Lilieth knew what he planned to do.

  “W-wait, wait! I-I’ll give it to you!” Lilieth said. “All my coins! You can have it!”

  In truth, she had no money left. Not a single coin. She had lost her coin purse in the chaos, and she figured it must’ve sank into the water. Still, she hoped that by saying that, she’d be able to get out of this situation somehow. She could trick him. However—

  “Nah, nah. Me? I’m smarter than that. Real, proper smart. I’ve gotten an idea, I did.” Markosh began walking forward with slow, stalking steps. “Don’t resist, ya brat. I’d rather have ya without a scratch when I sell ya back to yer parents.”

  “I’m not a noble!” Lilieth replied, taking steps back. “I-I’m from Hesperus! I’m just a commoner!”

  “Really? Then I’ll sell ya to some pervert somewhere. Lotsa freaks pay good coin for brats like yous. I’m gonna have a fresh new start. I’m gonna make things right again, and yer gonna be me ticket to it!”

  Lilieth turned and ran. She didn’t think about anything else; she just ran.

  “[Enhance Agility I]!”

  She heard Markosh chant a spell. Lilieth turned, and saw Markosh rush at her, faster than what a person could normally run at.

  It was slow. Compared to the others—Verlaine, Left, Yupanai, Talgerda—Markosh was very, very slow.

  But still faster than her.

  “—Ah!”

  Lilieth tripped over herself, and fell to the floor. By some miracle, Markosh’s arm, reaching out to grab her, had missed, and he too had ended up tripping. Markosh groaned, holding his head. He seemed out of it.

  She realized that he was still inebriated. He had just been drinking. Seeing this as her chance, Lilieth grabbed a nearby piece of rock, and raised it over Markosh’s head.

  If she brought it down, she could kill him. She just needed to hit him again and again, until his head split open.

  “—Kgh!”

  She froze. Because the instant she thought that, the image appeared in her mind: Talgerda’s face, half-caved in. Blood, muscle, tissue, and bone spilling out like confetti.

  Her limbs locked up. That was enough time for Markosh to realize what was going on.

  “You little...! [Enhance Strength I]!”

  He chanted another spell, and threw a fist straight towards Lilieth’s chest. She was blown back, dropping her rock, and leaving her on the grass, gasping.

  Each breath she took was agonizing, as if her lungs were refusing oxygen. She convulsed, grabbing at her throat and chest, not realizing that Markosh had approached too closely.

  He got on top of her, covering her mouth with his hand. His other hand held a dagger, raised and at the ready.

  “Enough, ya brat,” he said, speech slurred. “Don’t fucken’ move. Don’t wanna sell merchandise with cuts and holes, but ya need to be taught a lesson or two.”

  Chills beset her. He was serious. If she fought back, he’d kill her, and take everything she had.

  Maybe it was fine. It was the smarter decision, to simply go along with him. If she did, then he’ll capture her and sell her somewhere, but she’d be alive. She’d find a chance to escape someday. But if she didn’t, if she fought back, she’d die.

  She came back to life once. Would it happen again? What if this was the last time?

  Tears fell.

  I don’t want to die...!

  Those were her earnest thoughts, even after all that had happened. Even after that emptiness she felt at having been abandoned, at having caused Talgerda’s demise.

  Behind Markosh, beyond the canopy, she saw the open sky. Bright, gleaming, beautiful. A clear, cloudless sky. She could almost see Talgerda, flying through the air gracefully, her laughs flying with her through the winds.

  What would she have done?

  She would’ve fought. She would’ve given her all.

  “...”

  Seeing that sky, a single thought appeared in her mind.

  I want to fly like she did.

  Markosh raised his dagger, sadistic glee on his scar-ridden face. Every muscle in Lilieth’s body had separated from her weak heart and decided to fight back.

  She shook her head, ripping her mouth free from his clutches. Then, without thinking, she chanted:

  “[Bedivere]!”

  “Wha—?!”

  Her body fell. It didn’t fall down, as she was already on the ground. No, it fell up.

  Lilieth’s perception shifted, and suddenly the sky was below her. An endless void that stretched out beyond eternity. And she was falling into it.

  Her stomach turned, and she screamed in panic. She disabled the spell as fast as she could, and suddenly she was falling towards the ground again. She had risen a few feet upwards, and landed with a solid crash. Heat spread out across her body, but she was still able to move. Lilieth pushed herself up, coughing out a bit of blood.

  Something stung. Hot. Something felt hot.

  She looked around. Markosh was on the ground too. When she “fell” up, she had knocked up upwards as well, and he had landed head first into the ground. He hadn’t gained his bearings yet.

  Lilieth didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t a fighter, so if she hesitated, she would lose. Markosh would capture her, or kill her. There was no reality where she could win against him normally. This was her only chance, and she had no leeway left.

  She ran in and grabbed a nearby rock with both hands. Then, she dropped to her knees beside him, raised it above, and drove it down towards his head.

  A loud “thunk” sounded. Markosh’s face slammed against the ground, disorienting him further. Lilieth drove the rock down again, and again, and again, screaming each time.

  Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Crack. Crack. Splash. Splash. Splash.

  Lilieth continued. It didn’t matter that Markosh wasn’t moving anymore. It didn’t matter that her own hands had been drenched in something warm. She just kept hammering down, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see what she was making. She didn’t dare stop until her own arms gave out, and the rock fell to the ground with a wet thud.

  It was over, right?

  She opened her eyes, seeing Markosh, prone on the ground. The back of his head was entirely red. Red all over, straining the grass beneath him. She had the urge to vomit yet again, but she resisted. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down.

  But she couldn’t. When she tried to breath, pain assaulted her stomach. Her stomach...

  “...Ah.”

  She looked down, seeing a dagger lodged into her abdomen.

  “Oh no,” she whispered out. “Oh no oh no oh no...”

  She must’ve fell on top of the blade when she landed on the ground.

  Panic set in. Blood. Too much blood. Below her was red. A pool. She lost too much. Blood. Cover it. Stop. Stop the bleeding.

  It was painful. Hot. Pain. Hot. No, stop. Bleeding. Stop it. Loosing too much.

  She tried to use her clothes to plug up the sides of the wound. No, it wasn’t working. It still seeped out. She tried holding the dagger firm, even pushing it slightly deeper to plug the wound.

  “...A-argh, urgh...”

  She doubled over, hands on the ground. The dagger slipped out, and blood poured. The pain was too much. Her vision was getting dim. It was ... cold. Her body, once blanketed in an unpleasant, painful warmth, was growing colder and colder.

  Breathe. She needed to breathe. A deep breath.

  But she couldn’t. Every time she tried, her stomach surged with pain. Short breaths. She could only take in breaths too brief for comfort.

  Feeling strength leave her, she gently laid herself to the ground, turning her body so that she at least stared at the sky.

  She was going to die again. Was it ... ironic? Ironic...

  “———”

  It was getting hard to think.

  It was getting hard to...

  It was...

  “I ... don’t want to...”

  Everything went dark.

  ███████ stared at aged letter, like he always did every afternoon when he woke up. Riddled with creases and cuts and stains, the ink in its words faded almost completely. Yet he remembered what it said as if it were the day he first read it.

  He caressed the words gently. His wife’s handwriting had always been so beautiful.

  Where are you living now? Are you doing well? How’s our daughter?

  Are you all happy without me?

  Such thoughts arose, as they always did, with no one to answer.

  ███████ shook his head, folding up the letter and placing it in his jacket pocket.

  He left his home, a rather comfy and large house, newly bought. He felt pride at now having owned such a beautiful residence.

  Gone were the days when he had to risk his life for scraps. Being an adventurer without any Blessings was an arduous task, and it barely put food on the table. No wonder she left, taking their only daughter with her. He could’ve given them a better life. He should’ve.

  Now that he had been Blessed, things would turn around. He was earning more money now. He had bought his own house. He was rising up in the world.

  Yet she never responded to any of the letters he sent. He didn’t know if the letters ever arrived, or if she just chose not to reply. Had she even read them at all?

  No matter. He just had to work harder. Earn more. Have a better life. They’ll come back, one day, when they see how far he’s come.

  ███████ failed a commission. An entire wagon was destroyed. Several boxes of goods lost. The guild halved his pay. A shame, but sometimes it happened. He wasn’t hurting for money at the moment. At least nobody was injured.

  A member of ███████’s party stole the relic they were hired to retrieve and ran off with it. As the party’s leader, ███████ had to compensate the client with his own money.

  He found himself visiting the bar more often nowadays. He was Blessed now. Shouldn’t things get easier?

  ███████’s party disbanded. One too many moments of him showing up drunk to a commission. One too many arguments with his party members. Eventually, they got sick of him and left, like everyone else did.

  Fine. ███████ didn’t need them. Working alone was always his thing anyways.

  Alone...

  ███████ lost the letter.

  Finally. Finally, he saw her again.

  She came to visit him.

  At the worst possible time.

  After he had wasted all his hard-earned money on nights of booze. After he had burnt every bridge he made these past few years. After he had been so convinced that everything was well and truly over for him.

  She saw him, and decided that he hadn’t changed one bit.

  Where are you living now? Are you doing well? How’s our daughter?

  Are you all happy without me?

  So many questions he wanted to ask. So many things he wanted to tell her. And he didn’t say a single word, even as she walked.

  Again.

  The world was ending.

  A giant monstrosity had descended upon Zusa. It broke through its impregnable walls, devouring everything in sight with its amorphous body. He was, ironically, fortunate that he had spent the night passed out in an alley, or he would’ve been swallowed by it, along with his entire house.

  ███████ was Blessed. In times of need, he should’ve been one of the ones who stood and fought.

  So why was he the first to run?

  Where was the ███████ who knew how to be brave?

  Maybe he lost it, along with the letter. Maybe he never had it at all.

  It didn’t matter. He needed to survive another day. Just another day. Then he can give it his all again. He’ll work again, he’ll get all that money back.

  Because she returned. She actually came back. He messed up again, but it wasn’t over yet. She’ll come back again, and he needed to show her this time that he had made it. So he needed to live.

  As ███████ ran, he saw them, running the opposite direction. Olivier Verlaine and his party. Broken, battered, beaten. Yet with resolve in their eyes. They headed towards that beast, that manifestation of destruction. How could they do it?

  It was a fool’s errand. They’d never win.

  ███████ kept running.

  He’ll always keep running.

  Lilieth opened her eyes, seeing the forest canopy above. The chirping birds, rustling leaves, and gently blowing wind surrounded her like a warm, comfortable blanket.

  She sat up, looking down at her own body. Her dress was still in tatters, ripped apart and covered in blood as it had been. The grass she was laying on was dyed red with dried blood. In front of her, the dagger laid, its blade completely red. Yet, her own stomach was fine. Not a single wound.

  “Again...”

  She came back from death again. Maybe she really was an undead now.

  Lilieth turned her gaze to the body lying beside her. His bloodied head facing the ground. The stench was already overpowering. Vomit-inducing.

  “...Lord Markosh.”

  Those were his memories, weren’t they? Those too-vivid visions she had. Once more, memories that didn’t belong to her. Powers that didn’t belong to her.

  Lilieth Lasvenn was a Sculptmage, not a Skymage. She should never have been able to use Bedivere, ever.

  “Nothing makes sense anymore...” She laid back down and sighed.

  At least she could breathe again.