Rose stabbed into the creature three times in a row.

  The first two were trying to go for the kill, the third was to attempt the kill, just in case. All of them were in vain, as it kept moving under her boots. To be entirely fair, she had expected as much as whatever it was most likely didn’t quite have the same vital organs as a person, and didn’t seem at all to be as fellable as the average animal. She found quite unnerving, even through the adrenaline rush that was keeping her body moving even after such a fight. Then, in a quick swing, she cut its head off.

  She jumped from the creature, only then registering that she was, in fact, in the ballroom of the royal palace, where she was supposed to be exonerated in a matter of about less than an hour, perhaps half of it, she wasn’t sure of the time; and surrounded by nobles that were slowly processing what just happened and going from baffled to terrified. She was quite lucky that they were reacting with surprising slowness to it, otherwise things were doomed to become rather awkward rather quickly.

  Then she saw Lord Crato and putting the blade low, approached him.

  “Milord, I may be mistaken, but you do have things to do with the security outfit of the ball, correct?” She asked. She wasn’t registering the smile in her face, even if she could very much feel it.

  Crato nodded, he seemed to be visibly disturbed, which was understandable.

  “Then maybe the officers in charge of it should be called given that something was pretending to be one of the guards of the palace.” She pointed at the monster. “Speaking of which, what is it?”

  The mustached man glanced at the thing that was laying, not quite immobile, on the floor. To him, it seemed like the severely mangled corpse of a guard; his limbs were twisted in impossible ways, the severed head had a ghastly expression of pain, he seemed to have been thoroughly crushed. And yet, when he blinked a couple of times, Crato saw that one of his arms was noticeably longer than the other, that the body itself seemed to be vibrating a bid on its own, and that the eyes, which were of a sort of impossible bright blackness, seemed, although he could only tell by sensation, to be examining the hall.

  “Is it dead?” He asked, gulping.

  “I am quite afraid that it is not, frightfully enough.” She answered. “So we should better make sure that it is not the only one of these creatures around.”

  That was logic that he could certainly get behind of, even if there were just so many things that didn’t make sense at all about what had just happened and that very much threatened to make him completely lose his mind.

  “Lady Wynthart, if you would be so kind to tell me, where did you get a glowing sword from?” Suddenly asked Maran. Rose hadn’t realized that she was there at all. Not only that, but the minister of justice himself was just a couple of steps away from her; a sight that would be humbling when the adrenaline ran off.

  “Oh, this? It is just the sword Lord Crato gave me.” She smiled at Maran, having only noticed at that very moment that yes, the sword was indeed glowing. “I should apologize to the room for the upsetting spectacle.”

  The creature’s head, just as she was walking to the center of the ballroom to deliver an apology that both Lord Crato and Miss Rabineau had told her wasn’t necessary, suddenly joined up with its twisted neck. It shambled upwards in a movement that was impossible for a human being, and it drew screams through the entire assembled aristocracy. Some tried to leave running but found themselves trapped in by overwhelmed guards who were somehow not sure wether to evacuate or not. Its whole figure wobbled, the skin losing its any semblance of a human color and acquiring the look of a grinding stone. It began mumbling something.

  “Mine.” It said. Rose gritted her teeth and got in position without saying a word.

  She sliced through one of its legs as if it was made of butter, moving at lightning fast speeds to close to the ground that any onlooker would had assured, had they’ve seen the footage at a speed in which she was more than a blur, that she should have just fallen to the floor. However, her precision at cutting with the blade did nothing, as it quickly healed itself as if made of clay.

  “You know? That should be my line, you being my prey and all of that. And it will probably be once I figure out what you are, and manage to end you.” Rose answered. Another swing, another slice, this time an arm, and it grabbed it in mid-air and put it back on itself.

  Bingo. That was their weakness. Now she just needed a way to exploit it without too much effort in the way. At the moment stamina was a very precious resource that she was running out of in a distressingly quick manner.

  “I am nothing.” It said. “A vessel for. A harbinger of. Fate.”

  Rose flinched, its manner of speaking was just as unnerving as its general appearance. “If you are nothing then, it would do good to all of us that you took it seriously.”

  It didn’t react to her taunt at all. A shame really, she could only do jokes like that when high on the flames of battle, so not having it be provoked felt very much like a waste of her mental energy. Although, that said, the lack of reaction also extended to the creature itself. It wasn’t moving, it just stood there, seemingly finding it difficult to do so. Perhaps this was her chance, but she preferred to be cautious given the monster’s apparent immortality.

  The door’s to the ballroom suddenly opened, just then, the constable appearing from it while followed by a dozen royal guards who had seen the crash and had finally processed it enough to move inside. Maybe she had brought them back to reality, but Rose obviously couldn’t really tell.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Constable!” She yelled. “We did not have the time to have any conversation up in the wall, given the fury of this thing, but could you tell me what it is?” “I’m afraid not, milady. I haven’t the faintest idea.” Clarissa answered, getting close enough to the creature, although still of course at what she judged to be a safe enough distance, and pointed her own sword at it.

  It turned its head towards the constable. “You. Will. Stay out.”

  “Can’t do that, you shambling asshole.” She responded, briefly glancing at Lady Wynthart. “Now, whatever you are, you’re under arrest for so many crimes. Mostly what we’d consider terrorism.”

  It laughed, or at least let out a sound that gave the bone-chilling impression of it being a laugh. Some lady in the background fainted; clearly most people out there in the aristocracy had never seen anything even remotely scary like Clarissa had, back in the desert. Of course, nothing that she had seen, from sky-ghouls to hypnotic scorpions or the dreaded flesh-eating hiveworms were as incredibly strange and disturbing looking as the monster in front of her, but still.

  Then the lady chopped its head off in a single jump. She could hardly believe it and upon accepting it, she wanted to clap. Quite impressive. She hadn’t had the time to process that apparently the prince’s former-and-soon-to-be-again fiancee was pretty much a Berserker Swordsaint. Swordsaints were fairly common, but all the ones she had heard about were old men living in hermitages on the far west or beyond the Golden Walls. There were a couple in Lastria, of course, but as far as she knew they had also sworn to non-violence and retired to live isolated in monasteries in the north.

  “Constable, please do not stand there with an empty expression thinking that this is over.” Rose Wynthart was suddenly standing next to her. She was fast, sure, and it was combined with her inner monologue distracting her, but she was negatively surprised for a moment. “Observe.”

  The creature’s head met its body and it rose up, again.

  “If you wanted to tell me it could regenerate, I’m afraid that I already knew that, milady.” She muttered. Rose tilted her head slightly and nodded. “That said, thank you for getting it out of my hands. A few minutes more and well, it wouldn’t be in my hands anymore anyway.”

  “This. Is not about. You.” It said. Taking a wobbly step towards them.

  They looked at each other in the eye, and then back at the monster. “Collectively, or you mean an specific one of us?”

  “We. Want. She who was. Chosen.” It said, fairly loud. So, probably not the police officer, if only by relevance. At least she thought as much.

  “Well, then you should make a different decision. I am quite sure that there is plenty to choose out there that does not involve killing someone.” Rose answered, taking a step forward herself, although not too sure of what to do beyond cutting its head off again so she could keep it silent for a moment.

  It laughed. This time it was more recognizable as one. Its jaw dislocated from how strong the laughter was, hanging low down to the middle of its chest. The royal guard uniform was beginning to break from the twisted movements of that monster that seemed made out of clay. Perhaps it was some kind of golem? Rose didn’t know enough of that kind of thing to even make any kind of educated guess, and she was conflicted about wishing the presence of his Highness to explain because he’d be exposed to physical danger and she would not tolerate that.

  “You think. Wrong.” It said, taking a step that if it wasn’t for the general wobbliness, could come out as genuinely threatening. “There is no need for killing.”

  “Sure, look, half-molten golem or whatever you are, I have read enough swashbuckling tales to know how a villain talks and that their offers about not having to kill are always a lie, so spare it to me. Die by my blade or just end me. I would much prefer the former though.” Rose’s smile faltered a little bit.

  “We just need you to wake up.” This time, upon speaking, the creature sounded almost human. A shiver went down Rose’s spine, cold sweat appeared in her forehead. She didn’t know why, but the idea of ‘being awake’ whatever that meant, terrified her. However, she also realized something important, it was the same thing that the figure in her townhouse told her.

  It didn’t take much brainpower to put two and two together. Rose breathed, trying to keep herself calm.

  Right, first of all, thinking it through, that thing wasn’t a monster. It was a magical construct. Meaning that there had to be a mage behind it, almost surely the same one that had tormented her and ended up causing her to lose her mind for nearly two months. Most likely the same one behind the the mass disappearance and murder of the people who apparently lived next to her, she didn’t have many details on that. Probably enough, they were also the one behind causing that thing that seemed like a panic attack but now she was sure wasn’t, and thus, through all of this time, a massive pain for her. Maybe not the direct originator of her problems, but all the saints knew that at that point, all calming thought processes had stopped and she was about to blame it all on the piece of shit golem and whoever mage had the stupid fucking gall of sending it to keep tormenting her.

  Her sword fell to the floor, losing its glow. Rose ran across the room, jumped and kicked the thing square on its core, sending it flying back through the broken window. Her logic for the attack was as simple as one would expect from a berserker like her: If the blade doesn’t work, the fists might.

  She was so ready to take all of her rage on the construct that she was downright drooling. A terrifying sight that, for some reason, although she didn’t at the moment have the brainpower to really think about, seemed to make every single noble in the ballroom cheer.

  Rose jumped to the window herself, fists up to plummet, and then fell on one of her knees just outside.

  It was gone.

  Only what seemed like metal tubes, arranged in the broad shape of a human being, although more resembling the base of a scarecrow than anything else, laying on the ground. She couldn’t even curse. It was merely a second and it was gone. There must have been some kind of reasonable, magical explanation for it, and in a few minutes she was to realize that the metal was kind of the golem’s equivalent of a skeleton, so it hadn’t so much escaped as it was just gone. Completely fulminated and not from her own hand. Which she would find disappointing when the high of the adrenaline went down and she started crying. But for now...

  She turned around towards the partying nobles, from the other side of what was a grand window, now a mess of missing glass, under the rain. And was met with a near-unanimous ovation.