Interconnected: Spliced Souls

It took five days to get from Waveret to Canary, and the trip was mostly uneventful. Dineria gave me one-on-one training with the bow when we stopped for breaks. Fisher and Arnold offered Srassa advice, with the former dickbag offering to spar with her with a shield he pulled from [Dimensional Storage]. He was one-armed, so it was a defensive match, but goddamn... He was something else.    

He dodged and avoided strikes from Srassa as if she were a puppy. Momo joined in, and it ended with neither of them even so much as connecting a glancing strike against his shiny shield. I refrained from making it a 3-on-1 because I couldn’t be sure my anger would remain unbroken.    

It was festering in my soul like a vile disease, and my calmness was the solution that made it less explosive.    

Seeing Dineria help Feral also warmed my heart. I had a soft spot for that kobold since he seemed so friendly and innocent—almost like a big, cuddly, oversized teddy bear.     

During the nights, I offered to take the shift with Fisher to watch the campfire. But I never said anything to him. During the day? Yeah, I did. But not when night fell.    

I always silently stared without blinking, never once breaking my concentration. The point was to unnerve the shit out of him.    

I didn’t know if it worked, but he never brought it up during the day while we traveled.    

On the fourth night, however, when we were 15 hours away from Canary, Fisher finally broke the silence, with only the fierce campfire providing any illumination. Those stern eyes looked at me, and he used his remaining arm to readjust the burning wood with his sword’s sheath. “Why do you volunteer when you have nothing to say?”   

“…”   

“Did I do something…to upset you?”   

“…”   

“If you have a problem—”   

I retrieved a piece of paper and scribbled a note asking to meet with him and Arnold tomorrow night.    

The location?   

A shack in the slums. It was one I knew they were familiar with.    

And I ensured the message mentioned having info about a pair of singi siblings.   

When he read it, I saw the acknowledgement in his eyes. He didn’t have to say anything…because he knew…   

He knew…I was the woman Arnold had killed. I smiled, baring my teeth...looking at the man sleeping in black armor. I turned to the man in silver armor—the one with an engraving of a fish.     

What was Fisher feeling?   

What fear went through his soul?   

Was he afraid?   

Mad?   

Upset?   

Angry?   

Disappointed?   

I observed his face the rest of the night. When it came time to wake up the next group to watch the fire…we didn’t move.    

The two of us locked eyes until the morning sun came up. Fisher apologized and said he was so engrossed in our conversation that he lost track of time.    

But that was a lie.    

I did my best to act like the regular Servi during the last leg of our journey. 

---

It was night when we made it home, but something was amiss. There wasn’t anything wrong, but I smiled when I saw a bunch of signs and logs marking out a couple of acres a ½ mile away from Canary’s gates, but it was within sight of the city’s ramparts. It looked like the different areas were already marked, and the foundations for the various buildings were being constructed.   

It honestly looked more like a homestead. It would probably have a few gardens, some storage buildings, and maybe a barn for animals. The guards protecting the land saluted Fisher when we walked by.     

Are they building it outside? That’s odd.  

There may not be enough room within the city, Itarr. Rearranging and fixing the slum to make space would take a few years. Perhaps they want to get it built first, then they’ll tackle the more pressing issues.   

Albert makes a good point. I’m happy it’s being built so soon. How long before it’s done?  

Two months? Perhaps three? I’d need the blueprints to make a more accurate estimation.   

I was happy. I really was.   

The first thing we did was check in at the guild. Fisher, Arnold, and Dineria gave their reports and handed in a document they had kept—separate from the notes she had given us—and we were given a bonus of 50 SP and a promotion to Beginner Rank 2. Even Feral was promoted that high, skipping almost a dozen ranks and acquiring around 110 SP.    

He didn’t have his Skill Tablet, so he couldn’t do much about spending it. But Srassa said she couldn’t summon hers, which was something the two of them bonded over for the next few minutes.    

Before we left, I reminded Momo of our guild name, and after a quick vote, we officially enrolled with Warden as Butterfly Rumble.    

We even got the name stamped on our new dog tags. We could also choose an emblem, and we chose a butterfly, obviously, with a pair of boxing gloves on its antennae.    

“IT’S SO COOL!!!!” Momo exclaimed, holding her dog tags to the nearby lantern. Her tail wagged at supersonic speed. I thumbed my finger over the etched sphere.  

That’s right. We’re called Spheres now. I’ll never get used to the nicknames.   

Fisher and Arnold broke off with Feral to lead him to an inn, and Dineria walked us to the Crimson Grotto. Nimyra was here, and she opened the door—topless— before running out and jumping in my arms. She smothered my face between her chest, realized her nudity, and rushed to put on a shirt before coming back out.    

She wanted to know all the details, so reminiscing about our time at Waveret was fun. It was getting late, and Srassa was sad I wasn’t staying at her place.    

I told her I would see her at the guild in the morning. “If it isn’t a problem, maybe I could stay over a few times a week?”   

“Really? Yes. It’s more than okay!” Srassa happily said. She and Momo left me with a hug, and I watched them and Dineria walk down the stairs. She still had to take them to the mansion.   

“Servi!!!!! Welcome back!!!!” Nimyra threw off her shirt and hugged my face between her breasts. Now that we were alone, she didn’t have to worry about making anyone uncomfortable. She led me to the couch, and we talked about Adenaford. “Lucy’s doing just fine. She’s already made friends with the maids at Marko’s estate.”   

“Marko? That’s the name of the one who buys slave girls and helps them out?”   

Nimyra nodded. “He’s an excellent man. And he graduated from the academy a decade ago, so I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to look after Lucy.”   

“I seriously want to meet him. But I’m happy to hear about Lucy.”   

“And that’s not all. We took a tour of the academy the day after we arrived. She met the teachers and talked with the headmaster. We took a carriage to the farm outside the capital and saw the horses. She doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life, but the world’s open to her. I have plans to see her during the festival... Although I don’t know when it'll happen. Summer’s about over.”   

“Momo, Srassa, and I were talking about it. I don’t know if we have permission to attend the ball, but I’d like to experience a big, fancy festival.” I changed the topic to the orphanage. Nimyra said the permits and contracts were approved faster than anything else had been under Parrel’s rule. And the duchess and crown were paying top dupla for quality supplies. The current ETA was about 3 months.  

Albert was right on the money.    

We chatted a little more, and I learned the guild had money invested in it. In return? They’d open an academy to teach the ins and outs of being an adventurer, offer lessons in combat and magic, and learn how to live off the land.   

It'd be what Dineria taught us but on a larger scale. There wasn’t a need for any orphanages before because Viridian wouldn’t have permitted it. Or maybe that bastard was cheap and didn’t want to put his money to good use, but one was coming. Many helpless children needed a good home, food in their starving bellies, and a warm blanket over their frigid bodies. Colder weather would be coming soon. It wouldn’t surprise me if death by freezing was common for the have-nots. The end goal was to make it entirely self-sufficient. The children would grow their food and raise the animals, and those would be sold to Canary.   

And maybe it would grow from there. I hoped it did.   

Just had to wait for it to get done.    

“But it’s time for me to go. I have something I need to do,” I said, standing up.  

“Really? But you just got back.” Nimyra whined.     

“I have to talk to someone. And I won’t lie to you about the location. It’s going to be in the slums.”   

“No, I can’t—” Nimyra stood as her face frowned.     

“I know you’re worried. And that’s why I want to show you why you don’t have to feel that way. I should’ve done this earlier. It wasn’t right to keep it from you.”   

And so… I displayed my immortality.   

Nimyra didn’t vomit.    

She didn’t yell in fright, throw a fit, or curse at me for being a monster.    

She merely cried while rubbing the already-healed gashes going down my arm. And then she hugged me.    

And it was one of the most emotional embraces I had ever gotten.    

She cried for what felt like hours, and then we had a much-needed conversation about me before I needed to leave.    

I thought about that talk during the walk.    

Her words really stuck with me like nothing else had ever done before. Dineria said she would forever be my mentor—someone I could turn to when I needed help.    

But…   

Even though Nimyra offered the same, her voice hit harder because she was sad I was immortal. That I wouldn’t ever die. That I would forever and always be unable to escape the pain.    

I didn’t see it as a curse. And I had told Nimyra as much. But she said I didn’t have the experiences she had gained over a 200+ year lifespan. There were things in the world worse than dying, and death was the only reprieve from them. To be unable to obtain even that was one of her darkest nightmares, which made me wonder what kind of hell she endured before becoming the Queen of Night.     

She never resorted to killing herself, but if even that option was taken away, then…   

She didn’t finish. But when I left, Itarr was upset. She never thought her power would be called a curse. I’d never heard her voice tremble with so much emotion before.    

Is that why I was locked away? Was my power so feared that…that… Servi, will you come to regret it?   

“Never.” My answer was firm. “You’re why I’m alive—why I’m here. Why I was able to free those slaves and destroy those smugglers in Waveret. I’ll probably regret a few things, but I swear you will never be one of them.”  

Itarr sobbed. She was probably curled up in her bed, crying into a pillow. “I love you.”  

I didn’t think she heard me wailing. I desperately wanted to dive into our soul world and hold her against me…but I couldn’t. Not when I was ten minutes away from facing off with Fisher and Arnold.   

Leave Itarr to me. I’ll comfort her.   

“Thanks.”  

You’re most welcome, my friend. 

---

“We’re here. What did you want to speak with us about?”   

I leaned against the shed with my eyes closed and looked up when I heard a voice like nails. I wanted to rip out my eardrums and go deaf rather than listen to the pathetic fucker.   

“You seriously don’t remember, jackass? It was a night like this.” I opened my eyes and saw two men in their respective armor. They held their helmets in one hand while resting the other on their weapons' hilts. 

“Sorry, but it’s not bringing a bell. How do you know about this place? Fisher?”  

“… She’s the one you killed.”  

“I don’t recall killing humans. Now, if you’re talking about some bitch who tried to help a wildkin... I remember her face as clear as day. The expression of death…it was all someone like her deserved.”  

“And you still don’t get it? That was me, you fucker. I’m the one you killed.”  

“Bullshit. The dead can’t come back to life. It’s impossible.”  

“Fine. It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not because you’re going to die. Both of you.”  

“Die? Yeah, right. What can you do against me?”  

“I know you’re the weak one. I know Fisher’s better in every way. You’ve been riding his successes for a long time. There isn’t anything notable about you. You’re not strong. You’re not smart. You’re just a pile of shit. And I’m not even going to let you turn into that. You’re going to die. And there won’t be enough for the crows to pick at you.”  

Arnold’s left eye twitched. I swore I saw a vein on his forehead before wearing his helmet. “Fisher, kill this brat. Clearly, she’s delusional.”   

“You can try, but I won’t die.”  

Fisher drew a silver sword etched with colorless runes and put on his helmet. He…looked so sad…so abused. The man walked without malice, then closed the distance in seconds. He stopped his thrust at the last second, apologizing before piercing my heart.   

My blood ran hot. It covered Fisher's sword in dark crimson…but I remained standing.   

“I told you this won’t be enough to kill me.” I snarled, showing blood-stained teeth as I absorbed his sword. Suddenly, he jumped back, watching the fatal wound...turn nonlethal.   

“You’re a goddamn monster…” The color drained from Arnold’s face.   

“I’m the monster? I’m not the one who tortured singi and cut off their ears.” I took a step forward, summoning my scythe. “If anyone’s the monster, it’s you two sons of bitches.”  

Arnold’s face… Oh, seeing so much fear flow through his face was thrilling. He tried to run, but Albert suddenly appeared from the shadows with a dozen zombies and skeletons.   

How could he have so many?  

Blood crystals. If they could be used to summon him, couldn’t they act as the resources needed to use [Summon Undead]?  

Yes. They could. And there were undead covering this area of trash-filled dump. Even after I went so far as to clean it before moving in with Srassa, the place was already a shit hole.   

Itarr’s abilities seem like a debug tool to test the forbidden skills. That must be a hint to the big mystery. It must be.    

“Why don’t you take a seat? Don’t worry. My zombies won’t kill you unless you move. And don’t think you can kill them… Even the weakest variant is much stronger than you can handle. Actually, why not give it a shot? You're free to leave if you can kill the one with the horns.”  

Albert threw one of the tridents to Arnold. He looked at Fisher, who looked at me. “You can’t kill me. It’s impossible.” I used my hand to tear my heart from my chest and bounced it around. A second one regrew, and the veins, arteries, and bones from the ribcage regenerated via fleshy tendrils. “So, here’s how it’s going to go. If Arnold wins, you’re free to go. But if he cannot, he'll watch while I kill you. And then I’m going to kill him. He’s going to get devoured alive. He’ll be eaten by the dead. He’ll groan in agony and beg for the sweet release of death, but it won’t ever come. Because I won’t let it be quick. He’s going to suffer.”  

“You bitch! Fine! I’ll kill that goddamn monster! Just watch me!” Arnold threw away the trident, drew his sword, and ran towards Albert. The former butler was cool and calm, and he engaged the lieutenant in a fight that couldn’t be called one. Yes, Albert was smaller and weaker, but he was so far above Arnold in skill and technique that the bastard was knocked to the ground in ten seconds.   

He cursed and stood, only for Albert to dash through his legs in a slide. He sidestepped and twirled his trident around his head, slamming it into Arnold’s neck. He was flung sideways to the ground, groaning in pain.   

“GODDAMN IT!!!!!!”   

“Ooooohhhhhhh, someone’s mad. Get the fuck up and fight. It’s too late to be a little bitch when you find someone stronger.”  

“FISHER, KILL HER. THAT’S AN ORDER!!!! RRRAAAHHHHHH!!!!” Arnold decided to run away, but he was a fool. A wave of Shockwand was all it took. The bolt of electricity flew past him, destroying the pile of trash. It sent up blood and dried corpses. He skidded and turned around, only to find Albert right there. His flurry with the tridents gained from those Merfolk eclipsed anything Arnold could muster.   

Albert had access to their files when he was Viridian’s butler. He confirmed what I had heard from Dineria.   

Arnold… He was nothing. All the success he had ever achieved as a guard in Canary’s employment came from riding Fisher’s coattail.    

“See? He’s going to die,” I said when Albert brought Arnold to his knees. He restrained his arms and used [Skeletal Hold] to further immobilize him. All that was left was to press his trident against his neck after ripping away the helmet.   

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? FUCKING KILL HER!!!” 

---

The foe standing before me was not of this world.    

She had to have been a being sent by the divines to punish me. How else did she avoid death when my sword destroyed her heart?   

Arnold… He was being toyed around with… That child with the black horns was similar to the rumors about a great warrior who once resided in Keywater.     

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! KILL HER!!!”   

There it was—another order.    

When Arnold said kill…I needed to kill.    

As much as I wanted to become a better man…he held the leash. I couldn’t disobey him.    

I turned to Servi, who grinned. Her expression was one of a rabid hound or dog—something that only craved violence. She summoned the sword she stole and threw it at me, which I caught.    

Then, the fight began. Servi whistled when I channeled skill energy through my sword, causing the colorless runes to burn alive with an azure glow.     

And it ended when I severed her neck from her torso, the blue, sapphire-like fragments dancing around her gruesome wound.     

But it began anew once her head regenerated. 

And it ended.    

But it began anew when her torso somehow grew from her legs. She was naked, yet mysterious powers worked to cloak her in overalls.    

And then the fight ended. This time, Servi was cleaved down the middle. Her combat skill was not even worth discussing. She moved like a kid without feet, attacking far too soon with so many wasted movements that I wanted to shout in anger. 

When I first acquired [Champion’s Trance], I had grown to master the sword after an hour of fighting.    

After living for more than two decades since then, my skill was unrivaled. Swords? Axes? Bows? Crossbow? Scythe? Hammers?    

If it was a weapon, I had mastered it.    

But it didn’t matter what I did. Cutting didn’t work. Cleaving Servi in half caused her to laugh like a demon. The few spells I knew were canceled by some unknown means.    

Nothing I did…had any effect.    

My strength was reduced to nothing because what could you do when your opponent couldn’t die? The thousands of severed body parts and hundreds of gallons of blood told a tale that didn’t need to be spoken.    

I was dealing with an undying monster with power over the dead.    

But was she the monster?   

Or was it me? A reaper who had stolen thousands of lives from misguided anger?  

I wanted to be better.    

I wanted to be someone my daughters could look up to with joy.    

They were my everything—proof someone like me could still find love in the arms of an exceptional woman.    

But…   

This was my end... It didn’t matter how many times you killed someone if they always kept coming back.    

Servi wouldn’t tire out. My reaction speed was slowing after four hours. Only I noticed it, but it was there.    

Eventually, I’d slip up. Just one inevitable mistake would end my life. 

But if it didn’t happen by morning, what would happen?   

Would she let me go? I doubt her allies knew of her undying secret, although I couldn’t be sure Dineria and the others weren’t already dead.    

I doubt that. My instincts are telling me they’re alive and well. She probably doesn’t want them to find out about this.    

“What’s wrong? You haven’t killed me in ten minutes. I’m starting to think you’re about to give up.”   

Servi taunted me. She danced her scythe from hand to hand and slowly approached me.    

It seemed…I was really about to die.    

“Mari… Meri…”   

“Hmm?”   

“I’m sorry your father isn’t someone you can be proud of. I’m sorry I won’t be there to hold you anymore…” I dropped to my knees, loosening my grip on a sword paid for by a man with a soul stained as black as mine. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to teach you anymore. I’m sorry I won’t be able to see your children grow up… And I’m sorry I won’t be there to protect you… Marissa, my wife…”   

I couldn’t stop the tears. I hadn’t cried like this since my youngest daughter was born. Marissa—my beautiful, beautiful wife…   

“I’m sorry you fell for me. I’m sorry I’m not the kind husband you thought me to be… I’m sorry I’m too weak…to become the man you and our sweet daughters deserve…”   

“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! GET YOUR ASS UP AND FIGHT! FISHER!!!”   

“Arnold…” I heard Death approach, but I didn’t want to face her. I turned to my greatest regret. “I wished I had killed you earlier. I wished I was strong enough to have ended your life the day I met my wife. I committed so many murders at your hands. I slaughtered more than I could ever hope to remember…all because you couldn’t let go of your grudge. My wife healed me. My daughters’ laughter cured the hole left in my heart. But… You kept luring me in. You kept wanting to return me to the reaper I used to be. But I don’t wish to be him anymore. You told me to lead Feral away and kill him before meeting with you, but I couldn’t. Feral wasn’t responsible for what happened to our village. I…refused to end his life and gave him money to travel to Adenaford.”    

I heard Death’s footsteps squelch against the blood-soaked ground. I started talking about my wife and family and my past and hopes. And my dreams. And my wishes. And my concerns, yearnings, and everything else that made Fisher Fisher, including the time I leaked information about the underground slave market to help bring it to a close. And my betrayal… My slaughtering of all those that looked to me as this pillar of strength...and their death by my hands.     

I wasn’t trying to play into her kindness because I didn’t deserve any.    

I just deserved death. And I wanted for her sword to take my head.    

But Death walked past to Arnold, who endlessly cursed me. He struggled against the bony arms coming from the ground. He cried when that scythe was raised. Death…it arrived for all. Except her. Because Death couldn’t die. You couldn’t have Death kill Death because she was a part of nature.    

Arnold tried to speak. He begged and offered his undying loyalty, but those pleas fell on ears that wouldn’t listen.     

“You’re a piece of shit. Feral’s a sweet kid. He’s kind. He’s much more human than someone like you,” said Death. She brought the scythe upon his neck…   

And Arnold was dead. His head rolled away, vanishing into thin air. His body slumped to the ground, a splatter of blood fishing from his stump, but that also disappeared.    

“What about the singi children? The ones you tortured. Are they dead?” asked Death. She picked up my sword and swung it around before it vanished.     

“Yes. It happened…three days after.”   

“And you let it happen?”   

“I…did.”   

“You’re a coward.” Death spat at me. “You’re going to die. What? You thought I’d spare you because you have a family? I’d rather them grow up without a father. You don’t deserve any happiness. You deserve nothing but death. But you deserved to be punished. I will have you face your crimes. Stand up. We’re going to talk to someone.”