B2 - Chapter 45: Whose side are you on

  Zerus continued to run; minutes had passed since she planted the Twisted Seedlings. By now, her shoulder was mostly reformed, the flesh having regenerated. There was little pain to feel, all thanks to Enya.

  As she ran, holding Enya pressed against her, the forest behind them shook.

  She stopped for just a moment and looked back. A faraway rumble rolled through the trees. It could have only meant one thing. The Twisted Seedlings had sprouted, and their pursuers were now fighting them.

  It bought Zerus time.

  But it was time she didn’t want.

  Whoever this child in her arms was—she didn’t want to bring her to Pin, her master. There would be no grace waiting at the end of this journey. No salvation. Just pain and misery, waiting like old friends. Zerus knew that well, no matter what Pin’s desires were.

  She continued to run, her body moving on instinct. Her mechanical implants drove her forward, ignoring her thoughts. No matter what she wanted, she would keep running.

  The experiments done to her body had ensured that nothing could slow her down for long. Not wounds. Not exhaustion. Not doubt. Regeneration simply meant she could continue being useful—as a slave.

  A few minutes later, the forest’s edge came into view. This was the end of the green, and the beginning of a remote stretch of plains that turned into depleted desertland. All that stood here were shattered stone structures and an endless horizon of sand.

  She crossed into the sand, just a few steps in—then she felt it. Enya’s head shifted slightly against her shoulder.

  Zerus looked down, then followed her gaze upward.

  A raven.

  High in the sky, wings spread, coasting on the wind. Out here? Beyond the forest? Almost as if… as if it was following them.

  Her fingers twitched. Claws extended—blood dry along their edges. With a sharp motion, her arm thrust upward. A red streak shot from her palm.

  A beat later, a sharp squawk cracked through the sky as black feathers exploded in a sudden burst. Enya stirred. She turned her head slightly, just in time to catch the flurry of feathers drifting down.

  And then—

  “Pell!” Enya screamed out.

  Zerus’ gaze snapped forward.

  There, far back—just barely visible near the forest’s edge—were her pursuers. A bicorn galloped along the treeline, a man gripping the reins tight.

  She grunted, and a low growl rose from her throat.

  They had caught up.

  “Tell them to stop, or else I’ll be forced to kill them,” Zerus growled, her voice almost feral, raw at the edges.

  Enya’s throat tightened. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.

  “I—I can’t. I can’t send any more messages to—”

  She didn’t get to finish.

  Zerus grabbed her by the front of her robe in one sudden motion, lifting her into the air with a single arm.

  “You’ve been sending them messages?” she snarled, her eyes narrowing.

  “I-I-I-I—” Enya stammered, her voice tripping over itself, too many thoughts all crashing at once.

  Then, something hurled her away.

  That something—was Zerus.

  The demon had tossed her aside like a ragdoll.

  Enya tumbled through the air, crashing into the sand several meters away. Her body hit the ground hard, sand kicking up around her. Her eyes fluttered open—once, then twice—before she twisted around and spotted her captor dashing away in a blur.

  To the left, just in her peripheral vision, she noticed something spinning through the air.

  A weapon.

  It must’ve been aimed at Zerus.

  Then came another. A second projectile—fast, sharp, a blur of gray and black. It streaked past, just barely missing.

  A dagger, probably.

  Zerus twisted mid-sprint, narrowly dodging it with a graceful pivot of her body.

  “Kid!” a voice shouted.

  Enya turned—and saw Pell sprinting toward her.

  “Hey! You alright?!” he called out, reaching her and scooping her up under her arms. He hoisted her high, examining her quickly, shaking her a little too vigorously. “Are you hurt? Any injuries?! Broken bones?! Bruises?!”

  “I’m f-f—” she tried to answer, but quickly sealed her lips shut. “P-Pell—s-stop—I-I’m gonna throw yup again…”

  “Argh,” Pell groaned, then dropped her unceremoniously back to her feet.

  A loud metallic clang echoed nearby.

  Pell whipped his head around just in time to see it—

  Zerus had closed half the distance, claws extended in a blur of motion.

  But she didn’t land a blow.

  Josier was already there.

  His twin blades met her claws mid-strike, steel ringing out against sharpened bone. His weapons—two sleek daggers with carefully etched runic engravings—flashed in the sunlight. Longer than standard daggers, shorter than full swords—somewhere in between. But in his hands, they moved with the precision of a master.

  With a forceful push, Josier shoved Zerus back, both skidding slightly before dropping back into stance.

  He didn’t look like the man from earlier.

  Gone was the carefree demeanor, the slightly disheveled, half-professional attitude. Though he still wore his black suit—still had that unkempt hair and casual air—there was no mistaking it now.

  He was still a War Paragon.

  And not just any—a platinum-tier.

  Josier dropped low, his blades angled outward in opposite hands. Zerus mirrored him, her claws gleaming in the light, body crouched, ready to strike.

  There was no signal. No sound.

  Just instinct.

  The kind of shared battle sense that couldn’t be taught—only felt.

  They moved at the same time.

  Steel met claw again in a storm of motion—swipes, counters, flicks of the wrist and bursts of force. A flurry of strikes exploded between them, too fast for most to track. Sparks flew with every clash. Neither gained ground. Neither relented.

  For the first time… Enya saw what it was really like for a monster—a demon—to fight. It was wild and chaotic. A fierceness that she hadn’t seen before. She watched them clash, one flurry of movement after another, before tearing her gaze away and looking back up at Pell.

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  He noticed her. “What?” he asked.

  “Can you tell Josier not to hurt her?” Enya asked, voice almost pleading. “I don’t think she’s a bad person.”

  Pell barely had time to reply.

  A sudden burst of energy—a red shockwave—rippled outward from the fight, a visible ricochet of force from one of their exchanges. Pell reacted instantly, grabbing Enya and lunging sideways. The two of them tumbled across the sands in a whirlwind of motion.

  They rolled several times, sand filling Pell’s skull, Enya’s dress caked in dust. Another blast cracked the air just as they stopped.

  When they looked up, the fight had escalated.

  Josier now stood not with just two daggers—but with ten. Two were in his hands. The rest floated in orbit, slashing outward at unpredictable intervals. Each blade struck like a phantom, timed with precise, surgical rhythm.

  Zerus had shed her cloak entirely in the chaos. What remained were her worn, scorched clothes—ripped and frayed, barely clinging to her frame. Her body was now fully exposed.

  And it wasn’t just demon.

  It was also machine.

  The glass chamber at her chest—the one encasing her heart—gleamed faintly under the sun, sparkling in the light that reflected. Black runes and sigils scrawled across her skin pulsed like living ink, slithering as if drawn by invisible serpents moving for their next meal.

  The daggers came again.

  Zerus blocked them—not just with her claws, but with her arms, her hands, even her shoulders. One blade struck her forearm and bounced off with a metallic clang. Her skin, enhanced and reinforced, rang like stone.

  “Kid, are you seriously dumb?” Pell muttered, slowly getting to his feet, shaking sand from his eye sockets.

  Enya pushed herself up as well, brushing grit from her sleeves.

  “That demon asshole kidnapped you and is probably trying to kill you,” Pell continued, throwing his hands up. “And now you’re asking me to spare her? Did you get brainwashed or something? This is where you’re supposed to tell me you want to shish kabob her with one of your bone spike spells.”

  “I don’t want to kill everything, you know!” Enya snapped.

  Her voice lowered after that. Her shoulders fell a little.

  “But… Zerus. She’s being controlled by someone. Her master. A really rude—and evil—little girl. She’s making Zerus do things she doesn’t want to do.”

  Pell didn’t say anything, but the thought flickered through his mind.

  Sounds awfully like someone I know…

  “She didn’t want to hurt anybody,” Enya insisted. “But she can’t help it. Pin did something to her body. Just look at her!”

  She pointed back toward the battle.

  Zerus lunged forward with terrifying speed, claws flashing. She slashed horizontally—cutting Josier into five distinct pieces.

  Or so it seemed.

  The image vanished into smoke.

  Without hesitation, Zerus planted her foot, twisted her hips, and turned mid-step to block two incoming daggers aimed at her back. She knocked them away just as Josier dropped from above—descending from the sky like a shadow.

  He landed lightly and pushed off again, gliding back across the sand.

  The fight resumed. His stance was low. Controlled. Calculated. The daggers still hovered, ready for the next assault. His expression didn’t change.

  Focused. Cold. Unshaken. He was completely different from the man who had helped out inside the spiderling cave.

  He wasn’t treating her like a monster. He was treating her like a threat.

  Zerus, meanwhile, moved like a puppet.

  Her limbs twisted and shifted with unnatural pops, joints bending in ways that shouldn’t have been possible—like a shapeshifter forcing its body into a new shape it didn’t quite belong in.

  “She has chains,” Enya said again, more desperately now. “Chains and weird magic wrapped around her! She’s being controlled—she can’t stop herself!”

  Pell ground his jaw, the sound dry and grating without flesh to muffle it.

  “And what exactly do you expect me to do about it?” he snapped. “She’s still trying to kidnap you. Even if we let her go, she’ll just keep trying. That’s what she was made to do.”

  Enya pouted, her voice soft. “Is there really nothing we can do?”

  Before Pell could answer, a sharp, guttural scream tore through the air.

  Both of them turned.

  Zerus was down on one knee, pressed against the sand, one arm clutched tightly to her side. A long, jagged gash tore across it—skin split wide, with dark blood oozing out, metal plating beneath cracked and glowing faintly from impact.

  Josier stood nearby, blades gleaming.

  But they were different now.

  No longer just high-quality weapons—each dagger pulsed with mana, glowing faintly from their cores. Enya could feel the enchantments surging through them, resonating with refined force. They weren’t just weapons anymore—they were conduits.

  One was stained red.

  Zerus let out a strained groan as she pushed herself back up, face contorted in pain. Her eyes—bloodshot, furious—burned with something far more primal now. The caution from before, the restraint in her movements…

  Gone.

  And with it, the fight changed.

  Enya’s brows knit tight. Her irises flashed bright yellow—Absolute Focus activating in an instant. There was no need to hold back anymore. Not with Pell here. Not with Josier fighting at full strength.

  Through her vision, Zerus became clearer.

  The black sigils across her body still slithered—wrapping, moving—but now, something else stirred. Something deeper.

  Enya’s heart skipped a beat.

  The chains wrapped around Zerus’ heart—the ones locked within the glass chamber—were tightening. They pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, glowing faintly with a light that wasn’t mana.

  It was colder. Something ethereal.

  Callendryl Chains.

  Is she going to burn her lifeforce? What does that even mean? Will it kill her?

  “Come on, kid,” Pell said, grabbing her shoulder. “We need to back off. Josier’s got this.”

  He tugged her gently, pulling her away.

  But Enya’s eyes stayed locked on Zerus.

  She couldn’t look away.

  The glow in the chains intensified. The runes spiraled tighter. Zerus’ claws twitched, and her stance widened. Every part of her frame trembled—not from pain, but from release.

  “Josier! Be careful! She’s getting stronger!” Enya yelled, voice cutting through the rising wind as Pell pulled her clear of the fight.

  Josier didn’t answer.

  His eyes remained locked on Zerus, brow furrowed, posture shifting. He must’ve felt it too—the pressure in the air thickening, heavy with something unnatural. The sand at his feet trembled. The floating daggers around him pulsed erratically, responding to the unseen shift.

  Zerus stood fully now, her chest heaving. Her arms hung loose at her sides, but her claws twitched like drawn blades. The runes along her skin had begun to glow—lines of black fire racing across her limbs in jagged trails. The chains inside her glass chamber coiled tighter, binding her heart tighter with increasing pressure.

  Her mouth opened. A sound escaped—low, cracked, somewhere between a gasp and a growl. The air warped around her. Her red eyes seemed to darken.

  Josier shifted his stance.

  And then—

  She vanished. A flash. A crack in the wind.

  She reappeared mid-sprint, claws drawn back, slashing downward with terrifying force.

  Josier blocked it—barely. The impact sent a shockwave through the sand, kicking up a spray that clouded their feet. His knees bent to absorb the force, but his body skidded back, leaving a groove in the ground.

  “Her speed—” he muttered, his voice calm, but edged now with focus. “She wasn’t this fast before.”

  He retaliated. The floating daggers shot forward; two, then four, then all eight in rapid succession, striking at different angles. Zerus dodged the first few, then charged through the rest, taking the hits directly. Steel met skin, and some blades clanged off, but others embedded into the joints where skin met metal.

  She didn’t slow.

  Josier raised both blades to guard, but Zerus led her attacks and feinted. Her claws flashed sideways, then twisted mid-strike and went low.

  A flash of red struck the sands below.

  She slashed through the fabric of his suit, landing a blow along his side. Josier staggered, breath catching hard—but he recovered, spinning to bring his dagger across her midsection.

  Zerus leaped back, breathing hard, one claw trailing blood behind her.

  Off to the side, Enya watched; eyes wide, her heart hammering.

  “She’s hurting herself,” she whispered. “Those chains—every time she moves like that—it’s draining her.”

  Josier moved again, but this time, he activated some type of skill. He commanded one of his floating daggers to shoot forward. It pierced the ground a few meters away from her; the blade buried in the sand.

  She turned to stare at it briefly, but noticed nothing wrong with it.

  When she turned her head back to face Josier, he was already gone.

  What happened next was almost like a scripted play, where each action was preplanned.

  Josier appeared where the dagger was, a flurry of the remaining blades spread in a fanning motion, barely a meter away. But once the blades came within closer range, Zerus’ body snapped around, the black sigils on her body accelerating in motion.

  She struck every single blade that came at her—then, without letting a single pause exist, she grabbed forth and caught the two blades within Josier’s hands that aimed to strike at her sides. They both held still, struggling in a deadlock of strength.

  Josier’s calm expression shifted, and now his eyes became that of sheer focus and adrenaline.

  Zerus no longer resembled who she was just moments ago. Her expression had turned feral; the black runes around her constantly moving without end.

  Enya gritted her teeth, watching the fight go on. Not only was Zerus hurting herself—she was also losing herself.

  Neither Josier nor Zerus were leaving this battle unscathed either. Injuries appeared on both. She clenched her fists.

  She used Insight on Zerus for the first time, hoping to see anything important.

  Skill: Insight has been activated.

  Target: Zerus Larenune

  Revealed Information: A demon from the Larenune family. Significant modifications have been made to her body, including a binding ritual which involves Callendryl Chains. If the chains are severed, the host will die. The enslaving ritual can be interrupted by temporarily replacing the soul with another, and disconnecting the chains, before replacing the original host back.

  The weakness to the chains… it involved the soul?

  Enya was a necromancer—a class that involved the dead and souls—but she’d never done anything like replacing souls in a body.

  Could her Bonecarver’s Quill reinsert Soul-Energy if she took it out? Could she extract the soul and break the curse?

  She’d never tried it before.

  Taking her soul could also mean straight-up killing her. What if—later on—her class gained a skill to manipulate actual souls, and not just Soul-Energy? If she did something reckless now, would it cause something irreversible to happen?

  As Enya thought about the possibilities, her mind working through different routes and plans, weighing what-ifs and outcomes, the situation continued to grow more dire.

  Zerus’ body continued to be stabbed, struck, and beaten. She had grown stronger, but Josier was slightly better. He was struggling himself, but it was clear: Zerus was losing the fight.

  Not to mention—Enya could feel it. Her body was being destroyed, strained, and pushed to its limits.

  Those stupid chains…!

  “Pell!” Enya shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. “There’s something I want to try! I need your help to stop Zerus!”