Chapter 117

  Written by Bayzo Albion

  "Lone one," I muttered, licking my cracked, dry lips. "Easy prey."

  Ignoring the searing stab in my side, I hobbled forward. My heart hammered in my chest like a trapped animal desperate to escape. My hands trembled from exhaustion, but the hunter's thrill, the heady rush of impending triumph, drowned it all out.

  "Wait," her voice came from behind, sharper this time, edged with unease. "You can't... it's not like the others."

  "I'll manage," I snapped without looking back. "I have to."

  The ant's antennae quivered, picking up the vibration of my words, and it charged with terrifying speed for its bulk. Its footsteps thundered through the earth, sending pebbles skittering.

  I drew my knives and lunged with a roar.

  The first strike missed. It couldn't see, but it sensed the air's displacement and jerked aside with primal instinct. Its mandibles snapped shut inches from my shoulder, the sound dry and bone-like. I rolled away just in time, but the twist ignited my wound like wildfire, stars exploding behind my eyes. The world blurred for a heartbeat.

  "No... damn it... not now..."

  With a desperate surge, I thrust upward, burying a knife into the joint of its foreleg. The blade scraped along the chitin, carving a deep gouge but nothing more. The ant didn't flinch—it rammed me with its body like a battering ram. I flew back, slamming into the ground, air whooshing from my lungs in a ragged gasp. Above me loomed its massive shadow, blotting out the faint light. Mandibles gaped wide, ready to cleave me in two.

  "No!" I shouted, scrabbling backward, knowing I was too slow.

  And in that instant, she appeared between me and oblivion. My silent companion.

  She took the blow meant for me, the razor-sharp mandibles clamping down on her shoulder with a sickening, wet crunch. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for her scream—but instead, a low, resonant groan filled the air, as if the very atmosphere compressed and tore from unbearable agony.

  Then the curse activated.

  Darkness, thick and alive, erupted from the abyss within her, enveloping the wound. With a sharp, whip-like crack, it rebounded straight into the ant. The creature's body convulsed in silent horror. The same crunch that had shattered her bone now echoed through its exoskeleton with a deafening snap. Its legs buckled unnaturally, head thrown back in voiceless agony.

  The soldier ant collapsed, limbs twitching, armor splintering, but it clung to life. Her curse had done its work, and I watched as the beast suffocated on its own twisted magic.

  Yet I couldn't let it end like that.

  "No, the experience is mine!" I gasped, staggering forward on my bad leg.

  I plunged my knives into its thorax, over and over, until the spasms ceased.

  > System: You have slain a soldier ant. Experience +250.

  The message flared in my mind like cold fire. Only then did I turn to her.

  She sat on the ground, her dress torn at the shoulder, blood oozing in thick rivulets. Yet she stared straight ahead—calm, silent, without a whimper or groan. As if the mangled flesh wasn't even hers.

  Rage boiled up inside me, not at the ants, but at her. At her for throwing herself in harm's way, for acting like her life was disposable.

  I closed the distance, my small hand reaching up easily to her face, and slapped her hard across the cheek. The smack echoed through the silent woods.

  "You whore!" I yelled. "Why did you do that?! I told you—stay out of it! I can handle myself!"

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  She didn't flinch. Her cheek bloomed red from the impact, but her eyes remained doll-like, vacant and serene.

  And that made it worse. My breath came in ragged bursts, my heart pounding wildly. I realized then: the slap wasn't just anger. It was fear, frustration, everything twisted together.

  I was about to turn away when I saw the change.

  A crack.

  Thin but unmistakable. Her face was no longer a flawless mask.

  Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, real fury sparked in them—sharp, burning, alive.

  In that moment, the air shifted. A black spark ignited between us, faint as a static discharge, and the slap's force returned.

  My head snapped sideways, lips splitting against my teeth. Pain seared my cheek, nearly knocking me off balance.

  I froze, hand pressed to my face, breathing heavily.

  And she just sat there—silent, wounded, but no longer doll-like.

  Now, fire burned in her gaze.

  The sting on my cheek burned like flames licking skin. I lowered my hand slowly, exhaling through clenched teeth.

  It hit me all at once: this wasn't accidental.

  It wasn't some automatic curse.

  She stared right at me—and I knew she'd sent it back. She'd let the slap land, let the pain echo, then pulled the invisible thread when she chose.

  "Damn... she controls it..."

  The thought struck harder than the recoil.

  She could decide: absorb the blow or reflect it.

  She could unleash the boomerang on her terms, at her whim.

  A chill raced down my spine.

  Not a silent puppet. Not just a slave.

  A person wielding power that could turn my own rage against me.

  I stood there, chest heaving, while she remained seated on the dirt. But her calm was different now—breathing not with submission, but with the quiet certainty that the reins were hers.

  As I stared, a primal instinct kicked in, deeper than thought: she wanted me dead. It wasn't a flash of anger, not a fleeting impulse born of wrath. No. The desire hung between us, thick and tangible, heavy as a blade pressed to my throat. It emanated from her in a relentless, icy chill.

  She sat utterly still, posture relaxed, eyes as glacial and fathomless as ever. But I read every nuance differently now: the subtle tension in her fingers, poised to clench; the shadow beneath her lower lid; the abyss in her pupils, holding nothing but void ready to consume. I saw it clearly: if she truly willed it, it would end right here, in this filthy forest thicket. One precise, effortless moment. No scream, no struggle.

  My gut twisted in knots, breath catching in short, ragged bursts. "She's completely insane... She's not even angry; she's just... considering it. Holding back only because she chooses to. One wrong move from me, one misplaced word—and I'll be just another body in her wake."

  My lips moved of their own accord, forming a hoarse, choked apology:

  "I'm sorry..." I forced out, my voice sounding foreign, shattered. "I... I was wrong. Stupid."

  She said nothing. Didn't blink. Didn't shift her expression. Just watched. And in that wordless scrutiny, in her silent appraisal of my terror, the torment intensified. Her quiet was worse than any threat—a suspended sentence, execution pending.

  I backed away, step by limping step, stumbling over roots but never breaking eye contact, my wide, horror-filled gaze locked on hers. My hands shook so badly I feared I'd drop my knives. All my earlier bravado, my boastful madness, evaporated like mist. I wasn't the master here, not the hunter—I was prey, granted a few paces by the true predator's whim. And I had to make them count.

  "Sorry..." I whispered again, the word dangling uselessly in the air.

  She didn't move. No nod, no glance away. Her absolute stillness said it all.

  I spun and fled, hobbling and nearly collapsing into the depths of the forest, away from her, away from that piercing stare that stripped bare my every inadequacy. Each stride shot flames through my side, my leg buckling beneath me, but I drove myself onward, numb muscles screaming, far from her gaze that saw through to my worthless core.

  I limped onward, half-running, blind to the path ahead, stumbling over gnarled roots and clutching at low-hanging branches for support. The forest blurred into a sickly green haze before my eyes, my breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps that clawed at my throat. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, erratic and desperate, as if it were trying to burst free from its cage.

  *Farther... I have to get farther away from her...*

  Every step tore fresh pain through my side, like a red-hot nail driven into flesh. My leg burned, heavy as molten lead. My body shook with exhaustion and fading adrenaline, fear finally breaking through. I clung to thoughts of the city—solid walls, a soft bed—but the truth closed in: I wasn’t going to make it.

  My strength drained frighteningly fast, as if something unseen had pulled the plug. Sweat streamed down my skin while the forest seemed to feed on my terror. A hollow chill settled in my chest, my breath hitched, and my legs turned to cotton, heavy and uncooperative.

  "Damn it..." I rasped, nearly collapsing as I grabbed onto the rough bark of a pine tree. The texture bit into my palm, but it couldn't hold me up. "Damn it... no…”

  My vision swam, thoughts unraveling like smoke in the wind. In a flash, her image appeared before me…