Chapter 9
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Chapter 9: Marion’s Determination
The Magic Pool is the stone pool, Blue Ore is the Magic Stone, and dungeon energy is magic. Like the small fact that "mole=gnome," with Victor, Tasha learned the common names of many things here.
"What else?" Tasha asked.
"What else?" Victor said confusedly, or pretend to be confused.
"Other than killing her, any other way." Tasha said, "I want her to live."
"Ah, you find her charming again?" Victor teased, "I really wish I could introduce you to the succubus clan, they would surely be able to charm your soul away at first sight, and you’d willingly give it. Alright, then eat that old tree sprite, since they’re staying together, they probably speak the same language."
"That won’t work either."
"What? Do you think this thing is ‘cute’ too?!" Victor shouted.
"Mind your own business." Tasha politely said, "Speak quickly."
"Sign the contract." Victor said. He sounded particularly unwilling, and after speaking those words, he remained silent.
Indeed, signing a contract with the Book of Dungeons could help learn the demon language. Once signed with the Orc girl in front of them, communication with her would be a piece of cake. But how to make her sign? Tasha could create a trap-free, simple and convenient contract, offering the best conditions, yet with no common language, communication was impossible.
If we can’t even talk, how can we sell this idea?
The beast-eared girl stared at Tasha in the air, guarding the unconscious old man nervously with the hair on her ears standing on end. Tasha wanted to show her goodwill, but she couldn’t speak a word (the language of undead sounded like a chilling wind to the living), and she had no face, not even able to smile. She asked Victor if they could help the girl or the old man, Victor said no, so Tasha was at her wits’ end.
The beast-eared girl had already hoisted the old man on her back, looking like she was about to run away.
Would she understand if the contract was brought out? Tasha tried a last-ditch attempt, creating a contract in the air. Besides learning the demon language, signing with Victor also granted the ability to produce a contract and a pen anytime, anywhere. With just a thought, a strand of magic was drawn from her body and turned into a shiny paper and pen hanging in mid-air.
Unlike the Book of Dungeons, which exuded an evident aura of evil (Victor claimed, "This is necessary presence!"), Tasha’s contract looked much harmless, as she always believed only fools would flaunt evil visibly. The translucent paper shimmered with a holy silver dust, the golden words beautifully curled, and the feather pen was as exquisitely crafted as an art piece. Placed in a different setting other than the wilderness, not brought out by a faceless ghost, this object might be reminiscent of elves or angels.
Tasha handed the contract to the girl with animal ears, hoping she would sign it with a shaky hand.
It’s okay to be suspicious, maybe she just hit her head?
The girl with animal ears responded by turning and running, faster than a rabbit.
Tasha sighed, realizing she couldn’t rely on a rare miracle. It took a lot of magic to solidify the contract, and she didn’t want it to dissipate. She used part of her ghostly body to hold the paper and pen, letting them float beside her. Ignoring the mocking from the Book of Dungeons, Tasha flew after the girl.
She ran very fast, considering her injuries and the heavy old man she carried on her back. Tasha was impressed by the toughness of this otherworldly race. If the girl continued to run wildly, Tasha would have to give up chasing to avoid dispersing her body. But just before she lost sight of her, the girl slowed down.
From afar, Tasha saw the girl with dog ears standing up, suddenly running towards the bushes to hide the old man. The girl with animal ears quickly dug up the surrounding soil and leaves, burying him. Her quick and well-disguised actions made Tasha wonder if the old man was being buried alive – Victor said he was a tree sprite, so it should be okay to bury him alive, right?
Tasha glanced at the pile of dirt hiding the old man, then caught up with the girl with animal ears. She ran even faster this time, fully focused and seemingly unaware of the ghost following her. Soon, even Tasha could hear the commotion ahead.
There was a battlefield ahead.
A small-scale battlefield, with one side being a group of ragged, short commoners and the other a small team of well-equipped soldiers. The difference in morale and equipment was clear, and if the soldiers weren’t greatly outnumbered by the commoners, the battle would have ended long ago.
This is a massacre.
Civilians cry and try to escape, while soldiers stay still, lining up with crossbows and shooting arrows. The arrows shoot out in a fan-shaped pattern, causing the fleeing people to fall down with arrows in their backs. Lots of blood flows into a stream, even turning the pebbles red.
Blaming the many civilians for not bravely resisting is like blaming a flock of sheep for not using their horns to face the wolves.
Then, a shepherd dog charges in.
The beast-eared girl doesn’t roar, she doesn’t make a sound, the first soldier who notices her only hears the urgent sound of water – from his own neck. Blood sprays out waist-high, and the soldier falls to the ground with a thud, while the soldiers whose vision is affected don’t have time to wipe the blood from their eyes. The girl rushes into the group of soldiers, holding a dagger in each hand. Like a missile, she tears through the line of soldiers hunting civilians.
Her angry green eyes gleam in the dark.
The soldiers draw their swords, line up, and load their crossbows. Blood splatters all over the battlefield, no longer just from one side anymore. The dagger cuts through one throat after another, until the hunters realize they can also be hunted, until fear crawls into the eyes of these killers.
The beast-eared girl is not invincible, a soldier’s deadly strike can wound her, a shooter’s precise aim can make an arrow pierce through her body. She is already injured, the scars keep accumulating, but she keeps fighting, her sharp blade never stopping, the wolf tooth necklace on her neck jumping with her steps.
She is a vengeful female warrior, she is a lioness gone mad, no one knows how this young girl, not yet fully grown, can keep fighting with arrows in her shoulders. She cuts off the obstructive arrow shafts, but the arrowheads deep with blood must be lodged in her flesh, causing intense pain with every swing of the dagger. So what? Her eyes only see the enemy, the enemy’s blades stained with the blood of the fallen, the arrows not yet shot can hit more living heads, so she continues her relentless battle.
Tasha thought the sight would disgust her. Before crossing over, she was just a regular person from a peaceful era and had never seen anything as gruesome as a chicken being killed. But somehow, maybe because she lost certain organs and hormones after crossing into this building, she was not numb to it, yet not sickened to the point of vomiting by the scene of killing.
Her gaze lingered on the girl with animal ears. Anyone present, as long as they were not scared witless, would definitely stare at this warrior woman.
Tasha felt a sense of déjà vu. She felt like she had seen a scene like this before, but it was strange, how could she have seen it?
As the girl staggered and plunged the last remaining dagger (the other dagger had slipped off due to the worsening injury on her left shoulder) into a soldier’s chest, then struggled to leap unsteadily, Tasha remembered.
It was on the ceiling of the library, where she saw Magic Stones shining with magical power that could last for a thousand years in a single moment of eruption. The girl seemed to be burning, fighting like a blazing star.
This scene… so beautiful.
This thought made Tasha gasp in her heart, doubting if something was wrong with her. But upon another look, she would still come to the same conclusion. It had nothing to do with a morbid fascination for blood or any hint of desire. This battle and what it contained were extremely captivating and truly stirring.
In the end, the girl fell, leaving only one soldier. He was terrified, fleeing in panic towards the distance. Someone tripped him, he got up, but was tripped again. The fleeing civilians had already gathered around them, unarmed but beginning to pick up stones.
The last soldier couldn’t escape.
The girl with animal ears was lying on the ground, breathing heavily. Her ears were drooping, and her hair and dress were stained red. Some people started searching for the injured, while others went to bandage her wounds. The atmosphere seemed to be calming down, with a sense of relief spreading among the crowd. Suddenly, an arrow shot up into the sky, creating a dazzling firework in the night sky.
The soldier signaling from the pile of corpses took his last breath, a cold smile on his lips.
The scene was as quiet as death, with someone letting out a sob before covering their mouth.
"A large force is on its way," Victor said, almost hoping for chaos, "How many are coming? These ragtag soldiers won’t stand a chance against them anyway."
There was no need for his reminder as the enemy force was already close. The sound of hunting dogs and marching troops could be heard from a distance, causing despair to appear on everyone’s faces.
"The dog still has some fight left in him, act quickly, or he’ll just be waste material," Victor urged.
The dungeon was vast with many passages, and right below them, the gnome was prepared. Tasha crouched down, approaching the girl with animal ears. She made her ghostly figure as transparent as air to avoid unnecessary attention in the crowd, but as she got closer, the girl’s green eyes suddenly opened and looked at her.
"Being invisible won’t help a dying person," Victor remarked.
"Sorry," Tasha whispered in her mind. She did have some respect for this brave girl, but since she couldn’t save her, Tasha didn’t hesitate to make use of her impending death. The current powers in the dungeon were no match for a large force. Compassion was one thing, but realism was another. Tasha was not an idealist.
At that moment, the beast-eared girl raised her hand.
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Marion was close to death.
She trembled very hard, maybe because she was cold (she had lost too much blood), or maybe because she was scared. Marion used to think she would bravely welcome death, like her father, who believed dying in battle was an honor. But now she found herself terrified, unable to close her eyes.
Suddenly Marion wondered, did her father really not feel fear when he died?
She smelled the scent of fire oil, smoke, hunting dogs, and an army approaching with torches and cleavers. It was like a replay of the night when she was seven, about to witness her family being slaughtered, helpless. Her mother had covered her eyes that night, but Marion saw through the gaps between her fingers from beginning to end, never closing her eyes – she always felt it was the right decision, the last night she could see her father and her kindred, the last second she saw them.
But Marion was afraid.
She feared the ruthless blades, the eyes of those humans looking at them like vermin, the two complementing each other, bringing ruthless death. They said Hybrids were born to die, Hybrids should never have been born, why? What did we do wrong? She had asked when she was young, but she stopped asking later. Humans were supposed to be enemies from birth, victors killing the defeated, it was only natural, ingrained in her hatred towards all humans like Marion. She knew once she couldn’t stand in front of her family, what those people would do to them.
They would kill all beings deemed as Hybrids, some harmless-looking breeds could survive, traded on the black market, becoming pets hidden from sight. They would never see their homeland again, never see the forest, cold cages would be their final refuge. And Marion would witness this, she would see how everyone she wanted to protect would die before her, how they would suffer a fate worse than death, and she could only watch.
Marion didn’t want to die a heroic death. She wanted to live, to stand tall like a high city wall, to be a strong shield, to be a blazing fire against enemies. Marion couldn’t die. She wanted everyone to live, no matter the cost.
No matter the cost.
Marion had heard stories about evil spirits, ghosts, and demons. Greedy people tricked into giving up their names in exchange for their wishes, only to lose everything in the end. Before real terror entered her life, those were the scariest stories she had heard. As a young girl, she used to sit by the fire, listening to the oldest woman in the tribe tell stories of those who lost everything.
"Don’t let the demon take your name, you wouldn’t want to know what happens after that!" the old woman would always solemnly say at the end.
"I would never do that!" Marion vowed, "Only foolish people who want something for nothing make deals with demons. I am a smart, hardworking, and brave girl!"
A faceless ghost stared at her.
"I have nothing left to lose," Marion thought. With desperate hope burning in her heart, she summoned some strength she didn’t know she had, struggled to sit up. Pushing away the surprised onlookers, she reached out into thin air and grabbed the shimmering feather pen.
"Hide everyone!" Marion shouted, and boldly signed her own name.