Kapitel 113: Chapter 112 - Wrath
"YOU STUPID...!!" Magus growled, his voice a raw snarl as he brought his fist down and struck her across the face.
Amoria gasped, head snapping to the side, her cheek burning with pain. Blood trickled from her nose, staining her lips and the green grass beside her with a deep shade of red.
"Ahh..! P-Please... I-I'm sorry...!" she whimpered, trembling as tears mixed with the streak of blood running down her face.
But her words fell on deaf ears.
"FUCKING... BITCH!!" he roared, his fury unrelenting. His fist crashed into her face again, the sickening crunch of bone reverberating through the air. Her nose broke with a brutal snap.
And still, his rage hadn't burned out.
His fist rose again, trembling with wrath.
'Of course he's angry... I was so foolish.' she thought, dazed as the taste of iron filled her mouth. Her head lolled back, resting on the grass beneath her.
Her vision blurred. Blood dripped down her chin, pooling on the dirt below.
Another blow landed, splitting her lip this time. Her head whipped to the side, hair falling across her face. She didn't bother to brush it away.
"Magus... stop. She's had enough!" Marcy's voice rang out, soft, pleading—but hesitant. Submissive.
"She defied him," Lalyn said coldly, folding her arms. There was no pity in her voice, only quiet resignation. "She needs to learn."
"But—!"
Another fist struck Amoria. Harder this time.
Her head lolled again, the pain barely registering anymore, lost beneath the haze of confusion in her mind.
'Why...? Why did I tell Van...?'
She blinked through the blood dripping into her eyes, staring up at Magus's twisted expression—rage and betrayal carved into every line of his face.
'Magus told me not to. He warned me.'
Another strike. Her jaw cracked painfully, but she barely noticed.
'Why...? Why did I hurt him like that...? I don't even understand myself.'
"Fucking bitch... Dumb, fucking whore!" Magus growled, his voice dripping with venom as he sat heavily on Amoria's lap. Her face was swollen, bruises blooming across her skin where his fists had landed. Blood dripped from her split lip, staining her chin.
She could barely see through her half-shut eyes, but she could hear him. His voice cut through the haze like a blade.
"M-Magus... It... It's okay... Maybe—maybe he'll understand—" Marcy tried to speak, her voice trembling.
But Magus's roar silenced her.
"NO, HE FUCKING WON'T, YOU STUPID BITCH!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the clearing. Marcy recoiled as if she'd been struck. Even Lalyn and the two assassins flinched at his outburst.
Magus stood, wiping the blood off his knuckles as he glared down at Amoria. His lips curled in disgust.
"Van wanted something genuine," he hissed, pacing like a caged animal. "And that retarded whore took it all away by telling him."
He spat on her, the glob of saliva hitting her cheek. She barely flinched.
Magus stopped pacing and crouched down in front of her, gripping her by the chin. His nails dug into her skin, forcing her to look up at him.
"All you had to do was play the part," he said coldly.
"Be the perfect girlfriend. Make him believe you were immune to me. That you were special. But you just had to slip up, didn't you?"
Amoria said nothing. She couldn't. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, blood dripping onto the grass beneath her.
Magus's grip tightened painfully.
"You fucking whore," he said again, the words coming out like a curse.
The scene blurred—fading from her mind like a nightmare evaporating in the morning light.
"Mom?"
Amoria blinked, pulled from the memory by the soft tug on her shirt. Her mind drifted back to the present like smoke dissipating in the air.
She looked down to see Lizzy, her daughter, gazing up at her with wide, curious eyes.
"Oh, yes, Lizzy? What's up?" Amoria asked, her voice softening as she wiped her trembling hands on her skirt.
Lizzy hesitated, shifting on her feet. Her gaze flickered downward, then back up to her mother's face.
"I... I feel this itch in my lower belly," Lizzy said quietly. "Can you... Can you look? Please?"
Amoria smiled faintly and knelt beside her. "Of cour—"
She froze.
Her eyes narrowed.
'She wants me to look...? Not heal her…?'
Amoria's fingers twitched as she steadied herself, pushing aside the unsettling thought. Ever since Lizzy had turned nine, she'd always asked to be healed when something was wrong. Whether it was the smallest of stomach aches or the worst headaches, her daughter never once asked for a simple check.
Amoria knelt behind the counter, out of sight from anyone who might be watching. She lifted Lizzy's shirt, exposing her lower abdomen.
She scanned her daughter's pale skin carefully, her eyes narrowing as they swept over every inch.
'Hmm… nothing out of the ordinary…' she thought, though unease prickled at her senses.
"A tummy ache?" she asked, her voice light but careful.
Lizzy shook her head. "Oh, uh... No. Not really. I don't have a tummy ache. It just… it hurt there a bit ago."
Amoria's gaze sharpened.
"When?" she asked softly.
Lizzy fidgeted. "Oh… uh… a bit ago. Since… since me, Anne, and Michael went out for a break."
Amoria hummed thoughtfully. "I see… Did you eat something bad, maybe?"
Lizzy shook her head again. "No."
Amoria's eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing them.
"Did someone… do something to you?"
Her voice was soft, but her eyes glinted with madness momentarily.
Lizzy's eyes widened in alarm.
"No! Of course not!" she blurted out, recoiling slightly. She could feel the intensity radiating from her mother.
Amoria's gaze lingered on her for a long, tense moment.
Finally, Amoria nodded with a soft smile. "Okay."
"I see." She sighed softly. "Well, I don't see anything out of the ordinary. You seem perfectly fine to me," she said, rising to her feet.
"Just in case, I'll cast a healing spell on you—"
"Ah, haha, no need, Mom! I don't need to be healed!" Lizzy quickly reassured her, waving her hands as Amoria raised her palm toward her. "It passed, so it's all okay! I'll just go back to work."
Amoria lowered her hand slowly. "Oh…" she murmured as Lizzy turned away.
Her gaze lingered on her daughter's back.
And then, a memory flickered through her mind.
----------------
"Just in case, can you please heal me? I prefer to play it safe," Lizzy said in her memory, her voice soft and cautious.
---------------
Amoria's eyes widened—a sudden, piercing clarity cutting through her haze. Her gaze sharpened, her pupils shrinking like a predator's.
'That's not like her.'
Her hand trembled slightly before she clenched it into a fist at her side.
As Lizzy walked away from the counter, Amoria subtly raised a finger from below her waist and whispered, her voice low and guttural:
"P̷a̴rå̵l̴̄ax."
The word slipped from her lips like a curse.
Lizzy staggered—her body swaying once before collapsing to the floor.
To any onlookers, it would appear as though she had fainted out of nowhere.
Amoria darted forward, catching her daughter before she hit the ground.
"Lizzy?!" Amoria cried out, her voice a perfect note of concern. Her arms wrapped around her daughter, holding her close.
"W-What's wrong with her?!" Marcy and Misa rushed over, panic flashing across their faces as they looked down at the now-sleeping girl.
"Hm… I'll try to heal her," Amoria said softly, raising her hand over Lizzy. A soft green glow shimmered from her palm, casting a calming light over her daughter's small frame.
But it was just for show.
No spell was cast. Not a single effect rippled over the girl.
Marcy's eyes flickered, her gaze narrowing slightly as she noticed the blank spell. Her lips parted, but she said nothing—watching, waiting.
Amoria glanced up with a calm smile. "I guess she just needs some rest. Thank you for your concern!"
Without hesitation, she lifted Lizzy into her arms, holding her daughter with the gentle care of a mother—but her eyes remained cold, distant.
"Misa, you can cover for her, right?" Amoria asked, her tone light.
"O-Of course!" Misa nodded quickly, hurrying to reassure the concerned patrons.
"Can I use one of the rooms?" Amoria turned to Marcy with a soft, polite smile.
Marcy blinked. "Yeah. Go for it."
Amoria nodded in thanks and carried her daughter upstairs, her footsteps steady and calm. Marcy watched her go, her mind racing.
'Something's off… Something's going on here. That priestess wouldn't use a blank spell outta nowhere. It seems like I was the only one who noticed it.' Marcy glanced around, her eyes scanning the room for any suspicious movement.
Upstairs, Amoria nudged the door to a vacant room open with her foot. The door let out a low creak as she stepped inside, the sound fading into the stillness of the house. She closed the door softly behind her.
Her gaze drifted down to Lizzy's peaceful face, the child still sound asleep in her arms.
Amoria crossed the room with steady steps and laid her daughter gently on the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lizzy's forehead. The girl's breathing was calm, undisturbed by the world outside.
But Amoria's expression hardened.
She straightened, her posture tense as she pointed her palm toward her daughter. Her gaze darkened—a thousandfold. Cold. Surgical. Detached.
Her voice came out soft, but with unyielding purpose.
"Appeuhurs, Vark Melaver."
A flicker of energy passed through her hand.
And then—
The slave mark appeared, etched into Lizzy's skin. There, on her belly. The very spot Lizzy had complained of hurting.
Amoria's breath stilled as she stared. Silence hung in the room like a heavy veil.
She stood upright, closing her eyes for a long moment. Taking it in. Processing the truth laid bare before her.
When she opened her eyes again, they were shadowed with resolve.
'Oh, Goddess who governs us,' Amoria thought as her gaze lifted toward the ceiling.
'Please forgive the poor soul I'm about to send to your realm.'
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes glinting with a quiet, simmering fury.
'And forgive me... for the state they'll be in.'
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