Chapter 14 - Killer (Patreon)

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Turk was gleeful as he dragged me back to his little camp in the forest. He’d forgotten all about me trying to flee, how injured he was, or his horse being dead.

All that was on his mind was me, the archdevil he accidentally captured.

“It must be fate! It’s gotta be fate!” Turk’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he lifted me, bound my hands to a thick tree branch in the air, and let me dangle like a saggy leaf. “You’re really an archdevil, aren’t yah?” As if needing to remind himself, Turk parsed my hair again to see the tiny points growing from my scalp. “Gods above, I’ve done it. This is the big one. I’ve made it.”

I felt an intense amount of fear run through me.

But only for a moment. It was a false signal—something in my body reacting to the situation, not my mind. My thoughts stayed cold, unclouded, and ready.

I wasn’t even sure I was truly afraid with how brief the sensation lasted. The only glimpse of a solid feeling I could remember was the fear I had watching that demon eat all the corpses on the beach, but even then, I wasn’t sure.

I gritted my teeth and stared at Turk. He stared back, his eyes laced with curiosity.

“What?” I grunted.

“No wonder you’re so odd. It makes sense now. Your actions and words—it’s because you’re an archdevil.”

My brow creased. “Explain.”

The man smiled at me teasingly. “No. You hurt me and made me trigger the trap on my horse.” He walked close to me and placed his palm on my belly. Suddenly, his fist reeled back and slammed into me. Hard. “Ahaha! That felt good!” Turk gloated. “One more for good measure. It was a really good horse.” Again, his fist bashed my stomach. I felt the air launch out of me.

Still, I didn’t really feel anything beyond the pain. My mind searched for a way out, for basic self-preservation, but I wasn’t marred by emotions. Just thoughts.

My instinct was to laugh as a lie formed in my head. “Ahahaha!”

Turk was going to hit me a third time, but my sudden change stopped him. He keeled off and let his arms slap to his side.

I forced a monstrous look on my face. “You’re such an idiot.” Instantly, my expression deadened as I stared right into Turk. “Think through what you’re doing.”

A coldness overtook me. My mind had shifted into overdrive as it planned and developed a concoction of words and possible emotions that would best help me in the current situation.

“Have you ever met an archdevil before? No. Most people haven’t. We send our youngest to this continent to build experience so we know how your kind treats us. It’ s a rite of passage,” I lied, though the plausibility of my words were believable given the world we lived in. “I’m supposed to check in with my people at the end of each month. Should something happen to me, they’ll send a group of Hellknights to fetch me.” I grinned at Turk. “Even if you’re rid of me, I’ll remember you. I’ll find you. What do you think they’ll say when I tell them what you’ve done to me?” My voice lowered a level. “Do you think anyone in this country can protect you? Paradise doesn’t forget.”

The words flowed easily, but in the back of my head, my own ability to lie astonished me. I didn’t feel bad about what I was saying. This was a life-or-death scenario. But this wasn’t something I “remembered” how to do. It came naturally, like it was a part of me—a psychological condition engrained in my very being.

I saw Turk’s expression falter. There was uncertainty in his eyes for a moment, though only a hint of it. They briefly flickered down and to the right as if he was looking at something. Then he looked up to the sky. After a moment, he sighed and faced me. “I don’t believe you.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

“Maybe.”

I sneered. “Do you really think this noble you spoke of will be able to compensate you enough for the risk?”

“Oh, no. Not at all,” admitted Turk without a moment of hesitation.

I nearly flinched. “Then—”

“We’re changing plans.” Turk grinned, and his eyes lightened up. “Port Prosper’s a wealthy area, but it isn’t where this country's highest concentration of power resides. That’s in Camden.”

The capital. He was going to take me to the capital instead. I understood why when he said it, but he still explained the logic behind his move.

“Selling you to that noble really isn’t an option anymore, regardless of your threat,” relayed Turk. “He couldn’t afford you. The kind of money I deserve can only be found in the capital. We’re talking Marquis, Dukes, perhaps even a Prince.” He shuddered in place. “There’s a market there I’ll put you up in. Once people see your horns, the demand will be insane.” He paused. “I should test you out first, show you around town, maybe rent you out discretely. Get the public talking. People from other countries might come or send envoys just to buy you.”

“Doing that will only alert my people,” I said, and this time truthfully. If word got out about an archdevil being sold in the capital of a major human country, I doubted that would be kept under wraps for too long. The retaliation I’d threatened might become an actual possibility then.

“True. Then, I’ll let the market handle the advertising. They can do it discreetly.”

“Not that it matters.” I shifted back to my original lie. “My people will still find me.”

“Even if you’re telling the truth, I’m fine taking the risk.” He held out his arms. “Isn’t this moment fate? I didn’t even know what you were when I captured you, yet my plan worked. I have you under my control, and now I’m going to be rich. I was always destined to die a terrible death. Might as well live like a King before I do.”

I sneered. “Destined, huh? But what if I do this?”

I immediately fluxed my mana until all three crystals Turk strapped to my neck and wrists glowed with power.

Turk immediately slapped me. It disrupted my mana flow temporarily, causing the lights to dim.

“Oh?” I glanced down at Turk. “The face this time? I thought I was valuable merchandise.”

Turk gritted his teeth.

“My kind don’t need to sleep,” I lied. “How long do you think you’ll last constantly keeping watch on me? You can’t kill me. You can’t deform me. The most you can do is slap and beat me. Starting to see the problem?”

“I can brand you with the Mark of Enslavement,” said Turk. “I clearly need it. Thanks for the reminder.”

I frowned. “You think it’ll work? I’m a white-eyed archdevil.”

“Your individual power doesn’t matter. Might even help. It’ll use your energy against you to form the Runes. Requires significant crushed mana crystals, precise preparation work, and concentration—but it’s very overpowered for what it does,” he told me. “Mana is good and all, but Alchemy, Runes, and Arcworks will always be the equalizer.” He tapped his forehead. “A smart person will always beat brute strength if you give them time.”

Jessie warned me about this. No matter how powerful I became, the world had already invented ways to kill or capture people like me, and they were always getting stronger.

Arcworks were the first great equalizer—tools designed to help rookies survive their training years. The earliest was a fire-resistant shield. Then came blades with mana affinities, spears that launched pure mana, and armor keyed to specific elements. The more useful they became, the higher the demand for mana crystals—and the stronger the market grew for those who could procure them.

Alchemy began as a taboo—mixing monster parts and mana to heal the sick. It worked. Diseases vanished in days, bones could be mended in hours, and wounds closed in minutes—provided a person had the right materials and the coins to buy them. Once the stigma faded, the field exploded, expanding into buffs, toxins, and performance drugs.

Runes came last. No one knows who invented them—only that they rewrote the world.

Combining the flexibility of Arcworks with the power of Alchemy, someone created a magical language requiring ingredients and items to work in tandem with the words. The first Runes in recorded history allowed someone to teleport between two linked locations embedded with precise, powerful, expensive Runes. The second? Explosive traps that could destroy buildings, much like what Turk used on his horse. From there, everything changed. Even laws were rewritten to adapt.

Three different schools of thought. They were linked yet separate. Each had its benefits and cons, and all required materials to work. But they also served as the great equalizer.

Innovation always favors the desperate. Once, eye color ruled everything. It was absolute power. Now? Even the strongest can be branded, sealed, or killed if the tools and materials are good enough. I’m about to experience that firsthand if I can’t find a way out of this shit.

I smiled, breaking from my thoughts. “How about we test that theory out? If you’ve got any interesting items on you, I’d be happy to challenge you. Just untie me first. We’ll have a nice, fair fight. You might even win.”

“No chance.” Turk manifested his codex and opened it. “Don’t worry. I’ve made the mark dozens of times now. It’ll work, even on you. The mana crystals were always a temporary fix.” He lightly patted the side of his body I’d injured with mana. “I took them a bit too much for granted, though. You aren’t just some helpless brat. You’re a vicious fighter willing to do anything to survive. Like me! Won’t make that mistake again.”

I watched as Turk pulled five Polished Crystals out of his codex. They were high quality with significant mana capacities. They were powerful, reliable, and widely sought for advanced enchantments, manufacturing, and alchemy—usually used for advanced weaponry, magical constructs, or mass runic spells.

It showed how much he wanted to invest in my mark, which usually required only Refined Crystals at best.

“You think I’ll let you do that?” I asked.

“Oh. You’re right.” Turk nodded. “I’ll knock you out first.”

I gritted my teeth as Turk walked behind me and put his arm around my throat once again. I thrashed and thrashed but eventually passed out.

There was darkness for a while—

A flicker. The sensation of something foreign attaching itself to my mana pathways. A finger on my skin dotting on and off in a weird pattern.

Then, I felt an insurmountable wave of pain in my belly, like lightning was slowly drawing a picture on my skin.

My eyes lurched open, and I screamed, fully awake, as Turk pulled his hand away.

“All done.” Turk showed me his hand. There was a spiracle symbol with a six-sided box around the outside. It glowed green with his mana.

Breathing heavily, I looked down. That same symbol was burned where my belly button was.

I could feel it in my mana.

I was bound.

Turk walked up to me, removed the mana crystals on my neck and wrists, undid my bindings, and let me drop to the ground. “Let’s test this out, shall we? Stand.”

I did and immediately tried to mold my mana.

It didn’t activate for even a second.

Turk smiled. “Straighten your posture, put your hands behind your back, and bark.”

I immediately snapped to attention, did as he said, and let a bark slip past my lips. “Woof!”

“The marked one must obey any order of the one who holds their mark,” relayed Turk. He showed me his hand. “It’s a contract spell where crushed-up mana crystals are used as a medium for creating orders via Runes. It’s very basic, so I’ll have to refine it with verbal commands to get you just right.” His smile never faded. “You no longer have free will, though. You can’t even piss unless I tell you to first. Isn’t that wonderful?”

I said nothing. It felt like my mouth and jaw muscles were melted shut.

“Oh. Right. You can speak.”

I regained control of my mouth. “A contract requires two parties to consent,” I managed to squeak out, suddenly ‘remembering’ a legal term out of nowhere.

Turk patted my cheek. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. You don’t have to think much about anything ever again.”

I pushed myself to my limit, urging myself to disobey Turk’s order and fight him.

Instantly, my mana started circulating. It squeezed through my veins before circulating into the Mark of Enslavement on my stomach, shooting back up my body and attacking my nerves and muscles. “Gaaah!” I collapsed to the ground, shuddering, as the brand on my stomach caused all my mana to boil within me.

“Works like a charm.” Turk kneeled before me while I convulsed in pain. “And you know what the beauty of this thing is? It relies on the branded person’s mana to fuel it. I imagine that makes things harder for someone of your eye color.”

I felt anger pulse through me, but like all the other times, it was snapped shut like a box.

“Stand up,” ordered Turk.

Even through the pain, I rose to my feet without issue and stood before Turk.

“Good girl.” My captor examined me. “Lift your arms.”

I lifted my arms.

“Decent muscle structure. Slightly tan skin. Little on the darker side.” Turk examined me thoroughly without a care for my embarrassment. His fingers prodded at my arms. “Good proportions for your age. You’ll sell—”

A sword pierced through Turk’s back.

Nigel, huffing, collapsed onto the ground at full speed to my right. He heaved and gasped as he curled into a ball.

My eyes would have widened in surprise if they could.

Turk looked confused at first. His fingers prodded the blade, but looking at it, it seemed like he couldn’t understand what was happening to him. He sliced open his hand, trying to get the blade out as the pain settled.

Panic overtook him.

Then, his legs grew weak as he fell forward onto his knees.

“I…made…it,” huffed Nigel. “Saw him…take you…and…leave on…the horse. Ran…the whole way…wind mana…in my legs.” Nigel choked, reaching for me. “Saw the…horse. Found…you.”

Turk spat out blood. His mouth bubbled red as he gasped for breath. His fingers clawed weakly at the air like he was trying to undo what had just happened.

“I couldn’t leave you,” Nigel said before passing out.

I was still standing frozen from my prior orders with my arms outstretched.

What’s he going to ask me? What happens if Turk dies? Will I die? Will I be released? Or will I be stuck holding this pose for the rest of my life?

I searched desperately for a loophole.

Turk was bleeding out on the ground. He couldn’t talk very well. His voice sounded weezy. I’d already nearly killed him a while ago. It was a miracle he’d even survived that. This was it for him. The sword had entered through his back and exited at an upward angle out of his chest cavity.

His mouth filled with blood. He coughed, trying to speak, and forced out my name. “Y…en. K-Kill—”

That was all I needed. No target was specified. Just a command.

My hand raised before Turk could speak another word. Mana surged into it. I flashed it out, and a strip of water lashed out with an arc at Turk’s head.

It cleanly cut it off.

Turk gave me a surprised expression as his head toppled to the ground, and his body grew limp.

I felt a slight sting. Looking down, the brand on my belly started fading away. When it was gone, my skin didn’t show a sign that I was ever branded.

Thank the Gods, I didn’t die.

I glanced at Turk.

Wait. I killed someone.

I’d made use of the order and balanced it in my favor. I didn’t consider what I was doing; it was just an opportunity.

I had actually killed someone.

My legs shook. I took a step back and immediately stumbled. Shock swam through me, and my rational thought left.

Turk was a horrible person. He deserved to die.

But I’d killed him. Someone. For the very first time.

I felt a deep, unending well of pure guilt burrow deep into my stomach.

Then it vanished like it had never been there.

My mind rejected the feeling and locked it tight inside the mental box it kept all my other emotions. If someone were watching, they’d have seen a panicked girl’s face immediately blank as if drugged. Still, I could feel the aftereffects. My heart raced, my hands trembled, and my mouth felt dry.

Why is my mind like this?

I’d had my emotions muted or not respond many times over the years. This was the only time where I felt like I was being cheated out of a necessary feeling.

“I don’t like being different,” I whispered weakly. My mind didn’t even think the words. It was like my heart manifested them past my lips. “I want to feel things. Why can’t I feel things?”

My body didn’t respond. Instead, I felt cold, like I always did, and my rationality and sense of self-preservation took over once more.

It’s over. The mark’s gone. No one controls me. I can do as I wish. Nigel saved me. I need to tend to him.

Shaking away my lack of reaction, I crouched down on the ground by Nigel. He was dressed exactly as he was when he went to sleep—in simple pants and a shirt. He didn’t bother putting on shoes. His feet were bright red and cut as small streams of blood escaped through portions of ragged flesh.

“Fool.” I placed my hand on his neck. Nigel’s heart was racing dangerously fast, but he’d survive.

I contemplated the drive behind his actions. I didn’t know if I’d have chased after Nigel if he’d been captured, but he did that for me. I don’t know what prompted it or what he felt when he did, but I felt…lucky.

Nigel was still passed out. He breathed in and out rapidly. His hands had a little blood on them from stabbing Turk. Other than his feet and stamina, he had no significant injuries.

I dragged him away from Turk’s body toward a sturdy tree. Getting beaten and tortured had exhausted me, not to mention the after-effects of the mark itself. I couldn’t carry Nigel out of the area even if I wanted to. We were stuck until he woke up, perhaps a little later.

Carefully, I placed Nigel’s head on my lap while leaning against a tree for support. His warmth seeped into my skin. I didn’t know what it meant, but I didn’t move.

All the while, my gaze stayed on Turk’s head. Its lifeless eyes stared into me, and I stared back.

•

Time droned on, and Nigel barely stirred. His head occasionally bobbed left and right in my lap, but he never rose.

I found myself studying his face. As I did, my heartbeat sped up a little bit faster. I didn’t know why. Perhaps I was scared and couldn’t recognize it, but the feeling fascinated me.

I ended up staring at him for hours.

My finger unconsciously moved through his hair as I thought of a way to soothe him.

I guess I’m indebted to him now. I thought. Don’t know how I’ll make it up to him. He’ll have bragging rights over me forever. I don’t know how I’d have gotten out of this without him. He gave me the chance, and I took it.

Suddenly, Nigel began to stir in my lap. Slowly, his eyes crept open. They closed briefly for a moment as he relaxed into my legs before craning his neck.  

“Hmmm…Yen?” Nigel looked up at me, and I looked down at him. “You’re…okay?”

I couldn’t help but smile. Fool. He’s the one that passed out, and he’s asking if I’m okay.

“I’m fine. If it weren’t for you, I’d have been a slave for the rest of my life.” I pat his head, offering him some kind of reward. “Thank you.”

His voice was weak and exhausted. “You’d have done the same for me.”

“No. I wouldn’t have.” I removed my hand from his eyes. “Why did you do this?”

Nigel stared at me. His cheeks were rosy, and I felt his heartbeat pick up through my legs. “I care about you. You’re my friend.”

Friend? Is that it? Is a friend worth risking your life over? Can’t you just make new ones?

I noticed Nigel’s eyes drift above my eyes to the top of my head. The action confused me until I remembered—

My horns.

“Oh wow.” Nigel’s exhausted face looked from my horns back to my face. “They’re pretty.”

Just like that, he passed out again.

My heart started beating faster. The little tremors I felt before were nothing by comparison. It felt like a thunderstorm in my chest.

I couldn’t control it. The feeling overwhelmed me. My face started to burn, and I could no longer breathe without opening my mouth. Small gasps sprang out of my throat as my brain began to hurt.

What…is this?

Something inside me cracked.

My chest felt tight, like someone was pushing down on it from the inside. There was a pulse, soft at first, then sharper. Something was…stretching, like an old, sealed door being opened for the first time in years, groaning under the strain.

Water dripped onto my clothes. I looked down to see a few tiny beads and dark dots on my chest. When I looked up, though, I couldn’t see any sign of rain.

What’s happening?

My eyes began to blur. I dropped my head, and water swelled down my cheeks when I did.

I dabbed my finger against them, stunned to find tears.

I’ve never cried before. Not on purpose. Not like this. What the hell?!

There was no reason for it. No tactic. I wasn’t reacting to some sad situation, trying to imitate those around me. The tears were entirely involuntary and unprompted. It just happened—like a wound finally breaking open after years of pressure.

It got harder to breathe but in a different way from before. It felt sporadic and violent as my heart swelled. Warmth crept up my spine and neck as waves of something grew within me.

Why am I crying?

My eyes darted back to Nigel, and the tears only rolled harder, and my heartbeat thundered louder. I unconsciously grabbed at my chest as I felt my face burn.

“Something’s…weird…” I managed to choke out. My voice sounded raw and…emotional. It wasn’t the cold, analytical tone I always had. There was a warmth to it. Depth. Feeling.

I was feeling something.

It’s because of you. I realized while looking at Nigel. I placed a hand on his forehead. Why?

That little action caused my throat to close, and discomfort licked my neck. It was like I shouldn’t be doing what I was doing or that it felt wrong to do it at the moment. Yet, I wanted to. It warmed my hand and heart. It made my feelings that much stronger. It was almost like I had been poisoned.

I pulled my hand away just to test things. My heart beat less. I looked away. Everything returned to normal. If I couldn’t feel him breathe gently on top of my legs, I’d—

Suddenly, I became overly conscious of him lying on me and felt the immediate urge to throw him to the ground and scamper behind a tree.

But I didn’t.

I was still rational, thankfully. Instead, I stomached the feeling and tried to ration—

What the fuck is happening to me?!

I wanted to scream, run, claw the air just to breathe.

Everything I had ever wanted to feel—love, fear, awe, longing, shame, warmth, connection—they all detonated inside me.

And I couldn’t stop it.

I didn’t want to.

For the first time in my life, I genuinely smiled as I basked in it all.