บท 43: Chapter 20
It was the afternoon of the fourth day, after she heard about the monstrous players and their possible ambush, when a swirling darkness appeared in the dark hall to her right.
Without any hesitation, she assumed the defensive position and waited for the players to come through. This would be the battle of her life. Grasping her scythe ever tighter, Zesshi held her breath. Any moment now.
"[Greater Ability Boost] [Greater Evasion] [Greater Ability Sense] [Greater Reinforce Defense]," She muttered under her breath, applying martial arts.
First to come through was a humanoid woman in full plate armor with a helmet having two sharp horn-like protrusions. She raised a large shield and moved forward.
'Elf?' There was no doubt about it. By where those protrusions started they were meant to protect ears.
After the woman, a birdman stepped through, his bow was drawn to strike.
'I can't get a read, they-' She barely managed to block an impossibly fast strike from the elven woman, even with all of her boosts. Her knees buckled and her arms went numb from the sheer impact.
There was no time to observe what else poured through the portal as any wrong move could spell her defeat, forcing her to focus all her attention on the initial intruder. The elven woman didn't give her any room to maneuver and tried to kick her midsection, moving faster than she had seen anyone move.
It took all her strength to jump backward and gain some distance. But this maneuver proved to be a mistake. While flying through the air she was unable to fully change her trajectory, making her an easy target for impossibly fast projectiles shot by the birdman, who had somehow appeared behind the elf warrior.
An arrow exploded in her shoulder, its sheer force making her do a full flip in the air. Zesshi landed in a catlike pose, momentarily dropping her weapon from the pain. Her right arm refused to cooperate, the impact of the projectile likely shattering her shoulder bones and ripping through tendons. If not for her armor, the hit likely would've taken off her entire arm in an instant.
'This is bad! I can't even go on the offensive with two of them present.'
Zesshi desperately rolled out of the way as the elven woman's sword shattered the stone plates before her, grabbing the scythe with her left arm.
"[Heal]." Zesshi cast a healing spell while dodging a barrage of arrows that were tearing through the stone walls like they were hot butter.
Her right arm was functional again, but that helped little in the current situation of constant defense for her life. Pushed to the limits, with martial arts boosting her already impressive physical attributes, all she could do was desperately dodge and parry. One mistake and it all would be over.
'I should try to talk. Maybe…dammit…will you…give me…a moment to think.'
"Wait!" She cried out in desperation. The two figures stopped.
"Wait. You there, if you can beat me one-on-one, I will become your mate and bear your children!" Zesshi pointed at the birdman while panting. The constant onslaught of attacks had taken a lot out of her.
Her tired hands still gripped her weapon tightly. But a few more blocked strikes from the elf and she would be at her limit, so she had to make do.
Zesshi would have preferred a human husband, but there were no other options left at the moment, save for her trump card. But even then at best, she would kill one of them and enrage the other, not to mention the other figures she didn't even have time to observe.
"Like I would fuck the Theocracy's trash after what your pals did to my daughter! Whores like you are for the lowest of low!" The birdman shouted back angrily, knocking another arrow for firing.
"Now, now, brother. Don't break the young girl's heart like that. You may be her first crush. Be a good girl and get on all fours. If you beg hard enough we might spare you!" The elf laughed.
"Bastards!" She hissed.
'They mock me. They think I'm not even a threat. Surrender? No, they likely will torture me.' The fear within crept up like insidious poison. The last time she lost a fight was when she was but a toddler and trained with her overzealous and broken mother who hated her. The mask with only those two cold, hate-filled eyes was all she remembered about the woman who birthed her, and eyes she never wished to see again.
The question wasn't if she could win but if she could kill one before she was either killed or captured.
"Why would I surrender?" She shouted at the pair.
"The better question is why are you fighting for these humans? You aren't one of them. Do you think they will accept you if you hold the line here? You have already lost. The vault is breached, your handlers will find nothing more than what will remain of you." The elven woman's voice was smooth with a hint of superiority weaved in.
"There is no point talking with that twat. Let's finish this. We can feed her to the roaches later." The birdman aimed at her again, arrow glowing with power.
'So be it. I will go down fighting.' Zesshi steeled herself for one all-out attack. Her special talent let her use the abilities of the items the previous owner had, and she was holding the weapon that once belonged to the God of Death Surshana. The God's trump card [The Goal of All Life is Death] let her bypass all enemy defenses for one attack, making it an indisputably powerful skill. This one attack would have to count. Although she had the executioner class and could make a critical strike with any attack, it may not be enough against a player, so the only option was to cast [Death], which unfortunately meant she needed to touch one of her opponents during the twelve-second window the weapon's trump card was active.
First, she activated her own trump card [Einherjar], a constructed copy of her that would provide enough of a distraction to kill one of her opponents. Just as her avatar charged toward the elf, Zesshi activated TGOALID. A golden clock appeared behind her, counting down the seconds.
"Shit!" The elf screamed.
There was no time to waste. The birdman was taken by surprise as well. Zesshi charged forward, [Death] activated on her right hand. Just touching the enemy once was all that was needed, and she would achieve that.
There was a high-pitched whistling scream. Her head felt like a thousand needles were pushed through it all at once, hotter than a forge's steel. Zesshi paused, almost losing footing, and began falling. There was screaming in the background.
"Keep her stun-locked. Ten more seconds." One of them shouted at the other, her dazed mind unable to tell her opponents apart anymore.
'I…No…I can.' She forced her vision back into focus.
A blinding light. Searing pain. Something exploded in her face. Her eyes. Such terrible pain. A pained scream escaped her lips.
Six seconds. Five. Four. She needed to get to one of them. She forced her eyes open despite one of them not working anymore.
It was too late. A vial exploded on her chest. Thick red smoke engulfed her.
'No!' Zesshi tried to hold her breath and move out of the cloud, but the fumes stuck to her like a thistle. She couldn't do anything.
Three seconds. Two. The time was running out. Her avatar was already destroyed.
'I need to…' Another projectile exploded in her face. Zesshi raised her left arm, trying to shield her face as the noxious cloud slowly found its way inside her respiratory channels.
One second. The time ran out. She had wasted her opportunity.
A boot connected with her ribcage with a crack. Her armor wasn't particularly good against blunt-force attacks of such strength, and she knew she was doomed.
Zesshi felt herself flying and then a pang of pain in her back as her head connected with the wall like a cannonball. The underground stone contraction withstood the crash, her bones, not so much.
"[Hea-'' She tried to cast a healing spell. Another straight hit. A heavy object connected with her face. Taste of blood. She didn't feel her jaw, only endless pain.
Then everything went dark. She was floating in a dark void.
'Did I die? Is this all there is?' Her musings were interrupted by an onslaught of memories. Her brutal early life. The negligence of those around her. Nazaire was the only person who was ever truly kind to her. The woman was like a mother to her for many years. Getting a runny omelet for breakfast. Nazaire's funeral. The human woman died of old age before Zesshi reached puberty. Coldness from people around her. Growing distant, bottling up emotions. There were so few good memories in her life.
Her life ended in the same violence as it started. She saw her last moments as a passive observer. The pair of her opponents worked in remarkable coordination. They knew what her trump cards were and countered them as if it were just another fight. Maybe it was for them? Those players, Godkillers, likely had killed countless beings stronger than her, and had fought against the Gods themselves. What chance did she stand?
'Stupid. I was so stupid for not surrendering. Is this all there is in the afterlife? Just an endless darkness?' Her thoughts were muddled and her vision nonexistent, leaving her to contemplate.
The glimmering darkness and her memories were her only companions. Time stood still, frozen in the millisecond of her death as she watched.
A strong pull. Blinding light. She coughed up a clump of blood in her mouth, filled with the metallic taste of iron.
Zesshi slowly opened her eyes and gasped. Death itself stared back. The impossibly white skull with the dark burning flames pierced her soul, taking her breath away.
'Did the Ruler of Death resurrect me?' Zesshi tried to crawl backward, but her limbs failed her. With a small whimper, she looked up, staring back at the Godkiller.
"You are not permitted to die just yet." His voice boomed, deep and powerful befitting this dark God.
Frozen, she glanced up, her fingers feeling around the cracked stone floor on instinct alone for the weapon that wasn't there.
"Wwh…wwh…" Zesshi tried to speak.
"Do not resist. I will get my prize one way or another." The embodiment of death announced, reaching down and grabbing her face with his ring-covered skeletal hand, the monster's midnight dark robe filling the entirety of her vision.
There was no denying the will of the monster of all monsters. She let out another weak whimper, feeling a part of her very soul ripped away as she lay there. Whatever the dark God tore out of her, he stored in some sort of crystal exuding a pale blue hue.
"How interesting. The only ability worth considering wasn't yours to begin with. I wonder which item gave you the power to threaten my friends." The undead, holding her life on a thread, spoke to himself.
"I…" Zesshi stuttered. With every ounce of her willpower, she fought against the insurmountable dread suffocating her.
'I need to tell him. Please, Gods, give me strength.' She wanted to get away, to live, to not bear the responsibility of being the strongest defender. There were things in this world she could not hope to stand against. Her two attackers, as strong as they were, could not induce such deep primal fear in her. The ruler of all monsters was something so beyond her understanding, that the only emotion coming from his presence was an insurmountable dread no mortal was meant to overcome.
With her lips barely moving she uttered. "Th… th…the scythe." She hoped that would be enough for these monsters to let her live, even if it was a meager existence for just a few more moments.
The Undead monster leaned to the side and picked up her weapon, which had been hers for decades and was now somebody else's, the victor's. The crystal in the skeletal hand was holding dimmed as if all life was sucked out of it while the Ruler of Death inspected her scythe curiously.
"I see, one of your fake Gods had a few abilities similar to mine. Too bad your handlers didn't know how to properly utilize your power. I thank you for graciously donating your talent to me, Miss Fouche. I will put it to good use. Should I give something in return? Oh, but where are my manners? I am Ainz Ooal Gown, the Supreme Ruler of Nazarick. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The dreaded monster spoke with manners befitting a noble, scaring her further.
"L-Let m-me live. P-P-Please." She whispered, each of her breaths getting shorter in the suffocating presence of Ainz Ooal Gown. It was but a silly request from a foolish mortal girl with just a smudge of divine blood within her. How could she hope to stand against something that killed Gods with ease? She knew she should have begged to let her serve him, so that she could prove her worth, but her mind was blank, trying to escape the situation that it saw no way out.
"Very well. I will spare your life. But a piece of advice you should listen to for my gift to not be wasted. Break the shackles your handlers had put on you." Ainz leaned down and gently touched the side of her head, parting her smooth black hair. His skeletal finger caressed her ear gently.
Zesshi stopped breathing altogether, soundlessly staring back at the two enchanting flames dancing in the empty eye sockets of a God.
'He…he agreed? I… I will live?' She felt the gentleness of the touch she had not felt for a very long time. It wasn't a touch of a man lusting after her, but rather something else.
A memory of a plump woman, gently stroking her cheeks and singing in a soft voice that lulled her to sleep, surfaced. Nazaire was the only person to ever show her such pure kindness, kindness that had disappeared for years.
"You could be so much more, yet you think yourself subpar to these… humans. Is shame the reason you hide what you are? A frightened child used as a shield by unworthy scum who can do nothing else but stoop to the lowest of actions."
He stood up, towering over her with his massive form, and invited the elven woman to come closer with a wave of his hand, "Buku, please remove all Yggdrasil items from her."
He and the other males turned away, leaving Zesshi face-to-face with the elf. 'Am I nothing more than a child to them, or does the mere idea of seeing my body disgust them?' The sense of inadequacy crept in, a feeling she was very much familiar with.
The woman helped her up to her feet. Zesshi stood there, her legs wobbling and hands shaking as she shivered.
"Did I hit you a bit too hard on the head? Hurry up. We don't want more of your people to die foolish deaths, do we now?" The woman spoke softly, starting with her sweater.
Zesshi didn't resist as article after article was removed from her. Next followed the skirt, then boots, and finally stockings. The woman also removed all the jewelry.
"T-those are not…" She stared down at her bra and panties.
"I know. You can keep your underwear. Now then, we are off. Tell your handlers their pathetic false Gods won't save them. And next time, don't get in our way, there won't be any mercy for the second time." The woman stroked her cheek gently and departed through the oval swirling void that closed after her.
Only with the disappearance of that door to who knew where, did the sense of dread fade. She just stood there, shaking. Her jumbled thoughts could not form a sentence.
Ainz Ooal Gown, the Ruler of Death, let her live. How long she just stood there she could not tell, in awe of the power she had glimpsed and in fear of the very same power she was in awe of.
It was the panicked voice of one of the priests that brought her back to reality. "Lady Fouche, are you alright? What happened?"
She didn't answer and just stood there. The coldness of the underground hall pricked her skin, her tender flesh shivering. She hadn't sensed it at all. The priest ran around her and went straight for the vault, stepping over the corpses of the elite guards.
While she was out, they must have rushed in and died instantly. The priest ran out of the vault, his face as pale as hers. "Everything! They took everything."
"Zesshi! You lived! Tell me what-" Raymond, the new Pontifex, ran in. She turned to face him, as even she couldn't just bluntly ignore the head of the state.
"Your Excellency, everything is gone!" The priest shouted.
"I can see that. They even stripped her!" Raymond shouted back.
"Zesshi, talk!"
"Ainz Ooal Gown and other dark Gods came. I couldn't stop them. They told me to relay a message." She spoke while shivering, monotonously.
"What message? How did you survive? Why did you let them take your armor?" Raymond practically screamed in her face.
"Your pathetic false Gods won't save you… I couldn't resist them. I died, I think. They brought me back. I don't know why." Zesshi chose to not reveal the advice the dark Gods gave her.
"By the six, first the capital, now this!" Raymond dragged his palm over his face. "You are relieved of your duties until further notice. Go rest."
'This is all you have to say? I am nothing more than a bloodhound to them. I failed. If they find out I lost part of my power…I can't tell anyone." She slowly walked to the nearest corpse and tore off the cloak from the dead soldier to cover herself up, the cold finally getting to her.
In an ironic twist, the most dreaded of monsters showed her more kindness than humans who were supposed to be her people. The phrase, 'You can be so much more,' spoken in that deep, authoritative, maybe even fatherly voice, sat firmly at the back of her mind, the only thing she could think of as she trodded down the hallways.
Editing by aidan_lo.
Proofreading by aidan_lo, Saphire_Drake, clagan, LionLover, Lightflan, x4x, and NuggetLover.
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