“This is all your fuckin’ fault, worthless brat! I never shoulda had you! Oh Goddess, why burden me with such a foolish idiot son!? If I have sinned then lemme toss him into the furthest pits of Hell as penance!”
Smoke rose from the glowing orange horizon, flames hungrily devouring the thatch-roofed structures that made up an inconsequential village on the edge of the Kingdom.
Silhouettes of fleeing villagers mingled with disgusting abominations wearing the flesh of the fallen. Shadows danced in tandem with the monstrous creatures as they cut down the living, muttering profane verses like the demons they were.
His mother’s voice blended into the distant screams from far ahead, even though she was right behind him.
“Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone!?”
“I just… wanted to keep the crops safe.”
He had found an old piece of steel, stuck it up as a cross, and decorated it with some of his worn-down clothes to make a scarecrow. There was nothing inherently wrong with that; it didn’t even go against the Church’s teachings. It was just a chunk of metal, not any sort of artifact or relic.
And yet, Mother didn’t care.
“Goddess smite your dumb ass, boy, you really can’t do anything right! I’m sure all our corn ‘n wheat will be nice and cozy after those damned monsters finish tearing through the town!”
“I’m sorry…”
“Tell that to the poor sods dyin’ over there. Look, they’re even coming this way.”
Except, it wasn’t the villagers coming towards them. Glistening metal plates, stained red with blood and “decorated” with gore, caught the light of the spreading flames and sparkled like vile jewels crafted from human suffering. Lumbering, shambling, and staggering toward ■■■■■ were the Whispers that he had “attracted” to their village, as Mother would have anyone believe.
Even though there was no way that the piece of metal he found could have done anything like that.
Even though their village was on the northern edge of the Kingdom, had no walls or guards, and was poor and just as likely a target for a Vampire harvest as it was an enticing pillaging location to those Harpies in the north.
“Well? The hell are you sittin’ around for? Quit bein’ a useless sack of shit and go deal with the mess you made!”
“Wh…What?”
He turned to look at his mother , bewildered. He was just a nine-year-old boy. In his hands was a scythe, a simple garden tool for getting rid of weeds and threshing wheat. There was no chance he could do anything to those abominations. The blade would snap off the handle the moment it struck one of them.
Mother’s face was obscured… perhaps by the smoke, but ■■■■■ could still somehow make out her fury and disgust.
“The hell’re you staring at me for? Clean up your mess, or die. I don’t give a shit one way or another, but I never wanna see your ugly mug again!”
But, there was a third option. Something much easier than fighting a horde of Whispers. Something that years of pent-up aggression and hate had guided him toward. It was a sin, in the eyes of the Goddess and any other righteous figure. But he would survive.
With a desperate wail, the boy stood up, clenched his hands tightly around the scythe, and—
—charged toward the burning village.
Huh?
He was confused, even as his legs dragged him toward the vignette of carnage. This wasn’t what he intended. The only thing between those ruined pieces of lumber was death, waiting to taunt him for bringing a paltry tool to war. It would be better to ■■■■■■■■■■■■ and flee. Only a single, frail obstacle stood in his way.
Isn’t that what… happened?
And yet, the child yearned to be a hero, someone who’d prove the world wrong. So she took up her scythe and bravely faced the threat, ignoring the words of that hateful woman. There was no need to pay lipservice or regard to a ghost.
■■■■■ hated those monsters more than anything. No, he hated Vampires more. Everything wrong with this world was their fault. This disaster, this ruin. Every twisted choice that dragged him onto this sinful path. But these foul creatures barred his way, their coarse whispers of damnation grating on his ears.
So she would clear the way. Just as before.
■■■■■ raised his scythe, and shrieked as he dashed through the field of wheat, ready to strike the closest of the beasts that threatened his people.
＊
Cecily cradled her unconscious sister, staring agog at the nightmare unfolding a hundred feet away from her. The rest of the townsfolk had all gathered around as well, not a single one of them lifted even a single finger in assistance of Lycoris.
But who could blame them?
Cecily had seen the video, same as all of them, but that had done nothing to set her expectations for what was unfolding before her now.
All Vampires knew—perhaps instinctively—that the Aphtangloa were somehow different; that they commanded terrifying powers and were capable of feats unimaginable was no secret, and their exploits were etched into the annals of history for good reason.
But Lycoris was just a girl, the same age as Cecily. She looked sad, seeing her friends lying on the ground; she got embarrassed by being undressed; she grew hungry, got tired, and lost her temper just like anyone else.
It was just… that she operated on a different, grander scale. Or perhaps it was that Cecily was a meager little pond minnow, and she was watching a shark open its great maw for the first time. Like she had opened her eyes and seen a world completely alien to her own.
She watched, as Lycoris grunted and howled and bared her fangs, her eyes glittering like scarlet stars as she danced—no, dancing was too elegant a term to describe how she moved about—as she threw herself between the Whispers covered in rags and gore. It was… hard to look at them, but nobody present could draw their eyes away from the spectacle, entranced by the Princess’s performance.
Every swing of her heavy scythe reaped a half dozen of the monsters, even as more kept pouring out into the main thoroughfare. Each swing carried her body forward, the scythe’s weight and momentum exaggerated by the strength she put behind it. She’d slam it into the ground to pull herself over slashing talons; or, she would suddenly jerk back the other way, striking with the opposite end to impale a Whisper, before kicking it off of the end of her scythe.
Even Mira sat with the group of civilians, his head lowered as he timidly peered at the carnage down the street. He chirped angrily when Lycoris first ran off without him, but as soon as she wailed, he began cowering. Cecily could sympathize with the poor myrh.
One of the Fangchasers, Bolte, had asked Lycoris for orders when they first caught sight of the approaching horde. She’d looked at him in a daze—or a trance, maybe.
At first Cecily thought it was because she was so shocked by the grotesque sight of the Whispers covered in… meat and blood. But then she started to quietly apologize, confusing everyone present. And finally… she got up and ran off on her own, and the one-sided slaughter began.
At one point, Lycoris flapped her wings and flew above the throng, hefted her weapon high over her head and transformed it into an axe, before hurtling straight down and striking the ground with such force that the nearby buildings trembled, the impact causing a small tremor to knock some of the civilians off of their feet as they gawked.
However, her onslaught continued unabated by the quake. The Princess lashed out at any Whisper within reach. If she was crouched in a low stance, she’d carve through their legs and then slam her axe into the wriggling bodies. If she had her scythe raised high, she’d slice through their heads (aside from the ones that already lacked them). And if her blade was in too awkward of a position to slice, she’d simply tear one of their bladed limbs free and shove it back into them.
She cut a terrific figure as she darted to and fro, like a hungry beast butchering hapless prey. At one point, Cecily caught herself almost pitying the creatures that had ruined her home.
Long after everyone had lost track of time, standing or sitting in the cold winter night, watching the Princess’s rampage, the horde of Whispers began to gradually thin out. Types of machines other than the humanoid flesh-takers had filtered in once her slaughter began, attracted by the noise, but it seemed they were finally running out of reinforcements.
Or… looking closer, it wasn’t that the Whispers were running out of troops, but they had started fleeing from Lycoris. Cecily had never seen a Whisper in person before this week, but what she knew of the fearless killing machines was being contradicted right before her very eyes. The winged centipedes had flown away, but that seemed more capricious than this. Machines tripped over each other as they scrambled away from the Princess, an ironic twist considering they had instilled that same panic in the citizens of Kranes just the other day.
Some of the fleeing Whispers ran past their group, not even giving a passing glance at the mass of civilians as they fled from the Aphtangloa. Nobody said a thing. Nobody dared even move. But everyone remained breathless and transfixed, wondering what it was they should truly be afraid of.
＊
■■■■■ breathed heavily, standing alone in the darkened, burnt remains of the village. He had done it. He had saved his home…
His scythe was heavy in his hands, its snath slick with sweat from his arduous battle with those demonic brutes. He breathed heavily, desperate for air after… after…
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Lycoris’s chest awkwardly convulsed. She didn’t need to respirate, the only use oxygen had was as a tool for conversation. She blinked and looked around at the smouldering ruins once more. A cool breeze caught her twin braids, her bangs tickling her nose as a wave of fatigue sank into her bones. Her tongue nervously poked one of her fangs neatly tucked away with the rest of her teeth.
No, that isn’t right. I… I fled. I… I… Mother… What have I done!?
Panic gripped her as the weight of the truth crashed into her, reality and imagination contradicting as the hazy curtain gradually unveiled the worst of her memories. But this wasn’t Gossamer Village, that wasn’t the Hawthorne Lodge at the corner of the street…
The ruins of buildings around her were all collapsed or torn through, not burnt. They were made of stone and concrete, not lacquered redwood. The bodies beneath her were metallic and varied, only some possessed the grotesque skin patches.
`An error has occurred and… shut down.`
`Am I pretty now?`
`Fly… fools…`
`Stop Code: PAGE_FAULT_IN_NONPAGED_AREA`
The bizarre and maddening whispers continued to rise from the sea of scattered corpses stretched out around her. Even broken and smashed apart, some still desperately clung to whatever facsimile of life they possessed.
It went without saying, but she had wrought far more carnage than just a single withered corpse.
Then, what was I just… doing?
Turning around, Lycoris saw the group of civilians all bundled together in the middle of the street. They all had strange looks on their faces. When she took a step forward, she saw the crowd collectively wince away. She must have looked absolutely horrendous after… whatever had just transpired.
Sliding her grip on the scythe to just under the blade, she walked toward them as casually as she could manage, given her level of disorientation and fatigue. She felt like she really had just spent an entire night fighting off a horde of monsters, that wasn’t good. Lycoris still had to get everyone to the hospital, she couldn’t be out of energy already.
At the same time, she was rather confused by what she saw. Everyone continued to tremble as she drew closer, looking torn between fleeing and fainting.
But she’d dealt with all the Whispers present.
“Why are you all gathered in the middle of the road? What of the wounded? And what if they return?”
“Ah, well…”
“Y-Your Highness, um…”
Cecily sat on the ground, still covered in Lycoris’s blood and holding her sister against her. She squeezed her tightly upon Lycoris’s approach and bowed her head deeply, her blood-splotched green hair falling around her shoulders as she trembled. It looked like someone tried to wipe it off, but after it had already partially dried and soaked in
She struggled to speak, her teeth practically chattering, “Th-That was… a-a, um… s-spectacular fight…?”
“Yes! The child speaks true. Thank you, for that,” Bolte added stiffly.
Lycoris looked between the two of them in confusion. “…You’re welcome? Did you not hear what I asked? We need to keep moving. There will undoubtedly be more coming for us. I think.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. Take the helm and we shall follow you, Your Highness!”
Were they really so shaken by the sight of those Whispers? What in the world happened while I was fighting…
“What about the injured? Did you see to Vanessa?”
“Y-You don’t need to worry about her, Your Highness!”
Bolte stepped in front of Cecily and Vanessa, wringing his hands with his ears drooped obsequiously.
That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting… Lycoris frowned and tried to look around him, but he stepped in her way again. Either he was trying to prevent her from seeing the state Vanessa was in, or he was trying to… protect the two of them from her?
“If she’s still unconscious, we’ll have to have someone other than Cecily carry her, though. Perhaps we can put her on Mira’s back? Speaking of, Mira!”
She called out to and looked for the myrh, finding him cowering with his head tucked between his paws near the ground. Seeing this, Lycoris frowned to herself as a familiar spike of anxiety struck her heart. She had seen this before. It was the same way that horses feared her. Except, it was on everyone’s faces.
Forcing away the budding fear, she raised a hand to stroke his neck as she stepped toward him. It was all just in her head; it made no sense for him to be afraid. It made no sense for any of them to be afraid.
“It’s okay boy, I took care of them. There’s no need to be so spooked.”
“Chrrr…”
Her hopes that it was only that were swiftly dashed. He hadn’t been afraid of the centipede Whispers, after all. Much to her dismay, the myrh inched away from her as she approached.
Lycoris felt her stomach plummet.
“W-Wait wait, I didn’t kill… I mean, I’m not…” she stumbled over herself, the tension draining from her shoulders as she let her scythe slip between her fingers. “I’m on your side! I…”
It was the same as before.
Their eyes silently cast judgment upon her.
Unvoiced aspersions dug into her mind. It didn’t matter whether it was fear, envy, or hatred. It didn’t matter what they said.
A terrible chill overtook her, tucking her arms against herself did nothing. It didn’t matter if she made herself as small as possible.
Lycoris didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t a monster. She was a righteous citizen.
The bodies at her back and stares ahead spoke otherwise.
She knew the truth, deep down.
But, Lycoris wasn’t the same person anymore. It wasn’t the same circumstances. She had done the right thing.
It wasn’t fair. There was no winning either way. Whether the pendulum swung toward powerlessness or mighty, the result was the same.
And, as a result, something happened that caught even Lycoris off guard. Unable to bear the feeling welling up inside of her, as though her tiny frame had a reduced capacity for enduring the onslaught of emotion, the dam burst.
Her throat constricted as she choked up. Something hot welled up and ran down her cheeks.
Lycoris squinted her eyes shut, unable to vocalize her frustration as anything but a pitiful croaking sob.
She was overwhelmed. She was crying, sobbing.
Stop it! This isn’t the place for this! We have to get going… but… but… stop! Stop… looking at me like that!
But she couldn’t stop herself from lamenting how unfair it was.
Why did she always have to be the “other”? Why did nothing ever go right for her? Why was she so cursed?
She knew this was unsightly; she knew it wasn’t how a princess should behave. How an adult should behave.
But she couldn’t stop the tears or grief or frustration or—
“I’m sorry, Lycoris!”
A small, warm pair of arms wrapped around her. Trembling, the girl roughly Lycoris’s age embraced her.
Upon opening her eyes, Lycoris saw the blue-stained dark green hair of Cecily, who’d pressed her face into the Princess’s shoulder. She was so startled by the girl’s sudden hug that her immature and inelegant sobs abruptly cut off with a hiccup.
“N…No, I should be the one to apologize,” she mumbled morosely.
“You didn’t do anything wrong though! It’s just like you said, you protected us! You’re… um… really amazing, Lycoris,” Cecily replied, her words sounding somewhat forced.
“What about your sister…”
“The girl will be alright. I think we should all feel a little more confident in our ability to make it to the hospital after seeing that,” Bolte cut in over their little heart to heart, a pained sound of urgency in his voice, “And of course on that note, I agree with your earlier assessment. We should resume our march before more arrive.”
“Oh, yes. Right,” Lycoris nodded bashfully.
Lycoris cleared her throat and broke the hug, but only after giving Cecily a small pat on the head. There was still one other matter to tend to: the bird, giving her a troubled and curious look from his resting position on the ground.
“Now Mira, be nice to Lycoris. She’s your owner, after all! I’m sure she’s never done anything to hurt you before,” Cecily chided as she wagged a finger from over Lycoris’s shoulder.
“He’s not actually… I mean, I guess I can’t really argue against that, at this point… How am I supposed to explain this to Mother?”
“Come on Mira, hop to it! Lycoris still needs her faithful steed to ride ahead!”
“I could just run on my own. I suppose I am a touch worn down though… Can he even understand spoken language, incidentally?”
Lycoris muttered as she sniffled away the last of her tears, though Cecily appeared too focused on Mira to hear her question. The animal timidly stood up with his head lowered at her beckoning and shuffled forward, appearing almost bashful under the scrutinizing gaze of every Vampire and Fangchaser present.
Mirroring how the two of them first met, he timidly approached only for Lycoris to eagerly embrace his neck, gently scratching the side of his head where Cecily had once instructed her to.
His countenance—or whatever equivalent a bird-headed horse-cat could have—improved as she hugged him, and with a purr-like chirp he brushed his head against hers.
“Krrrrr~”
“See? She’s still the same princess you know and care about,” Cecily sniffed.
He gave Lycoris a little lick with his strange bird-like tongue in response.
But the cheery moment was short lived as a deep, bassy reverberation resonated through all of their bodies. In the distance, where the mound of Whisper corpses was, towering pitch-black hexapedal machines began to gather. They let out strange low warbles that caused the surrounding glasswork to shatter, the noise reminiscent of a melancholic beached whale.
The spindly-legged creatures gradually lowered their telescopic legs, their ovoid bellies splitting open down the middle as they scooped up the scraps remaining after Lycoris’s frenzy, their strangely fluid movements and noises causing the hairs on the back of Lycoris’s neck to stand on end.
They were most likely another form of Whisper, but they seemed so utterly unearthly that Lycoris felt a bodily fear and discomfort while watching them move.
“We need to go.”
She also didn’t miss the urgency in Bolte’s voice.
“W-Wait, what are we going to do about Big Sis? She still hasn’t woken up yet.”
“I’ll carry her.”
There was a thunk of an iron pipe on the ground, as Gier, the black-haired Fangchaser, crouched down to pick up the teenage Vampire. He had a morose look on his face, as he kept his attention purposefully fixed away from Lycoris and Cecily. He was notably unaccompanied by his graying mother.
Rather than bring up the obvious, Lycoris nodded and gave Cecily a small pat on the shoulder, before hopping onto her makeshift saddle.
“Let us depart before those eerie things decide to make themselves our problem. We’ve already lingered overlong… Though that’s my fault.”
“I’ll… I’ll help too.”
Cecily struggled to lift Lycoris’s scythe, offering the handle to the Princess while the blade still rested on the ground. After handing it over, she picked up Gier’s iron pipe—one end sharpened into a spear—and puffed her cheeks out seriously.
“I would prefer that you don’t do anything dangerous, Cecily… I’m sure your sister would agree. At the very least, stay near Gier and keep your sister safe. Maybe hand that pipe to someone else so you don’t hurt yourself.”
“If you… say so, Your Highness. I mean, Lycoris!”
“Vanguard, stay with the civilians, now that it’s clear they’re watching us. Try to remain as close to me as possible, in case they attempt another aerial attack like before. We’ll need to move quicker to keep any reinforcements from catching up, if they send any.”
With an odd mixture of emotions swirling in her heart, Lycoris spurred Mira into gear as she circled around the group and pointed forward with her scythe. Hopefully her brief crying fit hadn’t ruined her image in the eyes of those present.
They moved out once everyone had formed a shield wall again, and Lycoris put her hand to her chest and squeezed Mizar. The little ritual helped to calm the torrent of feelings rushing around aimlessly inside of her, but less than she would have hoped. Confusion and frustration dominated what remained, as she wondered why she struggled to keep her personal feelings in check.
Had all of that… “Princess training” been for nothing?
As though answering her unspoken question, the lament of the eerie Whispers in the distance warbled once more, before Lycoris’s group disappeared around the corner.
