A white moon hung dangerously close to the circle of the second checkpoint. It bathed the jungles in its celestial glow, its light creeping through the foliage, casting twisting shadows of white. Within the radiance, four silhouettes stalked silently, their figures unable to escape the moonlight’s gaze. With grace and unity, they scaled the side of the inn, propping each other up as they rose in height.

  Finding a closed window, the lead figure reached into his cloak and retrieved a flask filled with a bubbling purple substance. He uncorked the substance with a pop, a smell of death pervading the air for a moment before drifting off with the wind. Pouring the contents onto the glass, the liquid fizzed and gnawed away at the glass. All that remained was an open, jagged hole on the side of the building, inviting the figures inside.

  With light steps, the figures climbed through the hole, their weight pressing onto the frame without a sound. Inside, two figures lay in separate beds, their breaths slow and steady, undisturbed by the silent intruders.

  With a nod from the leader, they split up. One of the cloaked shadows tapped lightly on the floor, making their way to the bed near the door. A small, curled figure lay asleep, their messy silver hair gleaming in the darkness.

  The other three surrounded the bed closer to the window, where a red haired woman lay. Her eyes were closed in peaceful solitude and she lay still. Almost too still, as if dead.

  Thinking nothing of it, the leader moved closer to the bed. Carefully, almost preciously, the figure unsheathed a curved dagger from beneath his cloak and started muttering incomprehensible words, as if speaking a lullaby in gibberish. He lowered the blade right upon the woman’s chest,

  “Idsi Lanthri Panrott Iandit Rawiet Lamdor Crawitt’sitl Fraltiye.” His voice was gentle, guiding the blade like a lost child. Yet when he expected the knife to hit skin, The woman shifted. She rolled over, her sword slashing through the air at a cultist. The cultist could only widen his eyes before his head tumbled off his body.

  At the wet thunk of the head hitting the floor, chaos erupted. The silver figure lept from the bed, Knives flashing in both hands with a manic grin. Kathy threw herself at her attacker, her face widened with glee.

  Meanwhile, Eyah had risen from bed and positioned herself between the beds, staring down her two opponents calmly.

  “Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?” The lead cultist growled, his voice raising with each word. His frustration pooled out, his teeth clenching while he spoke. “Do not interrupt a sacred ritual! Fall into Lamdor’s gentle embrace!”

  “Sorry,” Enyah replied confidently, her piercing gaze locked on her two opponents. “I’m not too fond of dying prematurely.”

  “You wouldn't be dying!” The man cried out, caressing the dagger with a light touch, “You’d be joining our god in eternal paradise!”

  “Then sacrifice yourself.” Enyah snorted, though she groaned internally. A crazed fanatic.

  “I can't. Not yet!” He replied, his face remorseful, as if he wanted nothing more than to leave this world. “I must… save all of these lost lambs. The world must see Lamdor’s splendor!”

  “You’re so kind, Lemuel.” The other figure cheered, her eyes glittering with admiration, like she was gazing upon a saint. “An inspiration to all of us!”

  “No, no.” Lemuel shook his head with modesty, though his face was smeared with pride. “I’m only a deacon, this is simply my duty.”

  Enyah rolled her eyes, but sprang into action the moment she regained her focus. She leapt onto the bed, using it as a platform to lunge towards the woman. With her weight behind her, she drove her cutlass downward for a slash. The woman barely managed to unsheathe her sword and raise it, blocking the attack. Yet the force made her stagger, buckling under the pressure.

  “You cannot escape your fate!” Lemuel roared, lunging at her from her side. She sensed multiple pricks coming fast, each aiming for a different area and coming in fast.

  Though, four attacks?

  Enyah backstepped quickly, reaching just shy of a bedframe. The unknown made her cautious. Raising her cutlass as a guard, she eyed Lemuel, whose cloak was thrown off in the fight.

  His hair, long and matted, fell in strands covering his face, but she could see piercing green eyes staring at her, wide with electric zeal. His manic grin was wide and toothy, fanaticism oozing out of it. His frame was thin, but packed with muscles.

  And then she saw them.

  Sprouting out of his back was two extra arms, grotesquely hanging above him like antennae and holding swords. Though human in appearance, there was something unsettling about the arms. A wave of disgust rolled through Enyah.

  “Is that… from the Mist?” Enyah grimaced, her voice cautious and disgusted as she recoiled away from the man.

  “The Mist? No, no. I wouldn’t accept anything from that blight.” Lemuel shook his head with a scoff of disdain. It didn’t hide the mad devotion that the man held. “This is a gift from Lamdor! To tamper with Fate’s dial, he wields four distinct hands, each guiding a different path.. To his faithful believers, he grants us the privilege of becoming just like him.”

  “Why would a being like Lamdor need believers like you?” Enyah goaded, confidence seeping through her steady voice. “What could the father of fate ever need from mortals?”

  “To end his eternal duty. And it’ll all start with that boy!” The woman hissed, her body tense and on the verge of pouncing.

  “Ooh! A four armed man!” Kathy chimed in, suddenly perched on the bed beside Enyah, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked at Lemuel as if he were an amusing pet. “That’s gotta be rough on the shoulders!”

  “It does ache a bit…” Lemuel admitted, before his gaze sharpened into a glare, “Are you mocking me?!”

  “How’d you know?” Kathy gasped, covered her mouth with her hand in mock shock.

  “Graaaagh!!” Lemuel roared, charting at Kathy. Or at least, he attempted to. Weighed down by his extra arms, his rush was… pathetic. He stumbled past the bed, his movements looking more like the flailing of a wild animal than a lunge of anger.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Kathy rolled back in laughter watching him, tears in her eyes. Enyah, however, narrowed her eyes. Not taking chances, she positioned herself between them and sprinted towards Lemuel, intercepting him. “You take the other one.” She called over her shoulder.

  She heard an excited “Okay!” from Kathy, but couldn’t respond, her mind focused on calculating her best move.

  Four pricks came upon her rapidly while she advanced. Four jabs. She registered the attack instantly, coming up with a countermeasure in less than a blink.

  Pivoting her body left, she leapt onto the bed, her balance unbothered by the uneven mattress. Lemuel’s four swords came upon her, but only two could reach her at their angle. Four down to Two pricks. She met them with her cutlass, steel against steel echoing in the night.

  She aimed a rapid slash on one of his arms, but he shuffled backwards just on time, parrying her strike with one of his swords, while his other arms stabbed at her from his right.

  Their back and forth continued, sparks flying while Enyah jumped off the bed and circled the man, denying him his full prowess. Her attempts at attacking back were thwarted as well. They were at a stalemate, neither side gaining an inch. Yet Enyah’s patience paid off, as Lemuel was losing his temper.

  “Die! For! Lamdor!” Lemuel spat, eyes blazing with fanatic fury. He swung wide, as if trying to spin in a circle. Ducking low, Enyah dove the other direction, slashing up towards his moving arm as she fell.

  Lemuel’s horrified scream of pain echoed, followed by the wet thunk of a dislodged arm slamming into the ground. Not giving him any room, Enyah struck with force, pushing him back step by step until he hit the wall. Gritting his teeth, he lunged forward, a whirlwind of steel as his arms flailed around.

  She stepped back, letting him barrel towards her before darting to his side and slamming into him with her shoulder. The force sent him tumbling straight through the open hole where the window used to be.

  Enyah looked down, watching Lemuel as his anger turned to wide eyed fear. He plummeted down and landed with a heavy thump, the sound ringing in the night. He lay there for moments panting, before a grin stretched across his face.

  Her face morphed into shock as she saw his severed arm regenerating, the torn flesh slowly morphing back to perfect condition.

  She clutched at her cutlass, a wave of revulsion flowing through her. She took a quick glance to Kathy, who was still engrossed in her own fight. With no time to waste, Enyah jumped through the hole, using the building’s frame to slow her descent. Her boots landed on the ground with a soft thud, she turned her eyes to Lemuel.

  “No mortal could hope to break Lamdor’s boons so easily.” He sneered at her, flexing his newly reformed arm.

  Giving him nothing but a glare Enyah launched herself towards him, seizing the initiative. Aiming a slash towards his leg, he moved to block, but she feinted, instead striking towards his stomach.

  He barely managed to move a sword to block, retaliating quickly with another slash.

  Aided by her intuition, she sidestepped, dodging by mere inches. Capitalizing on his failure, she struck back, using both hands to increase her weight.The added force caught him off guard. His attempt to block was casual and sluggish, earning a long gash on his arm for his blunder, reeling back in pain.

  He staggered back, clutching his injured arm. His grin faltered for a brief moment for a grimace of pain, before replacing itself with unbridled rage.

  “Not much of a swordsman, are you?” Enyah drawled, eying the crimson blood tipping her cutlass before flicking it clean.

  “My God's blessings are all I need.” Lemuel muttered with an unwavering tone. Slowly, fervently, he crossed the four swords in his hands together in a ceremonial manner, the blades forming an uneven diamond. “Without him, we wouldn’t exist. Without him, life wouldn’t go on. Marriage. Childbirth. Growing up. ALL HIM!”

  While Lemuel continued his proselytizing, Enyah’s gaze flickered to the gash on his arm. The blood still trickled, falling to the grass in single drops. It remained injured, the miraculous revivification that healed his extra limbs didn’t touch his preexisting one. Her lips curled into a grin. Only his ‘gifted’ arms could heal. Good to know.

  Lemuel’s narrowed eyes bore into her, speaking with mock patience. “Have you finally decided to join our lord’s embrace? Look at his blessings! He will not leave you wanting. Just hand over the boy.”

  “I’m good.” Enyah stated, affirming her beliefs. Religion, she mused, was nothing more than a drug. A drug filled with hope and faith that clung towards an uncertain future. She wouldn't be swept into muddied waters like that. Not willingly.

  The thought pulled at recent memories. Memories she wished she could bury. The faces of the Ferals, of the puppets. Her past encounters… her past kills… All miserable and desperate, ruined and brainwashed by cults, eventually dying to her hand due to their desire to sacrifice a child.

  The thoughts stopped. Only Drantei’s words echoed in her mind. “Focus, Enyah.” She told herself. She turned her attention back to Lemuel, who was grimacing at her earlier response with a frown.

  Enyah spoke, her voice cold as ice, “I'm not about to wait around for some God to solve my problems.”

  Lemuel bursted in anger, speaking in barely contained frustration. “Just accept him! Think about heaven! An endless feast. Everything you could ever ask for!” His fervor rose as he spoke, but faltered when he noticed her dark, unmoved expression.

  His face fell into a sigh. He'd have to guide this lost lamb himself. “Then we have nothing left to say. Wait for me, lost lamb.”

  Two figures stared each other down with only the moon as their spectator, its pearlesque light casting long shadows that sprawled between them.

  In an instant, Enyah moved, her figure becoming a blur, closing the distance between them in a blink. A feint towards his neck, redirected towards his arm. Blocked. He swung in retaliation, but she sidestepped, slashing upwards towards his side. Each movement felt fluid, instinctive. She felt in total control of the battle, its rhythm calming her emotions and sharpening her focus.

  Enyah revelled in the feeling. The thrill of combat, her body moving in harmony with her ability. The fight felt too easy. Like a child’s game. The zealot didn't know swordsmanship, preferring to swing four swords around and use his brute strength. She’d use that to her advantage.

  His swords flailed through the air, meeting no resistance. She exploited his weakness, dipping and dodging around his strikes, leaving shallow cuts across his body.

  “Would it be best to end this fight now?” Enyah considered, watching his futile struggle. After pondering, she held back. “No need to rush. This fight is good practice.”

  Their back and forth duel continued until Lemuel lost his patience. He charged forward with a guttural, inhuman roar, swinging his swords with as much strength as he could muster.

  Feigning exhaustion, Enyah let out quick, shallow breaths, moving back as if overwhelmed. He advanced confidently, gaining ground with each step. Maintaining this momentum, Enyah allowed him to close the gap, luring him with a sense of victory.

  With a burst of speed, she struck towards him, her cutlass gleaming in the moon.

  His eyes widened in alarm, but the momentum of his attack pushed him forward, continuing his strike. Two right arms rushed forwards for a strike, just as Enyah predicted. She twirled to the side, her movements gentle, almost like a dance. Her blade met his, parrying his strike with ease before twisting her sword in less than a blink,

  One of his arms fell.

  “AAAAAAAAAH!” Lemuel screamed a guttural yell, echoing in the night. He stumbled back, gripping his remaining swords tightly. However, Enyah wasn’t finished. She swung upwards, striking down the arm above in one smooth slice. It fell onto the ground with a wet plop, the grass below soaked in a crimson red.

  Lemuel staggered, his remaining arms fell limply to his sides, creating a grotesque picture. He groaned in pain, his knees hitting the ground hard.

  “I must…” Lemuel mumbled, but Enyah couldn't fully catch it.

  Before she could consider further, he steadied himself with sharp and focused movements that belied his large frame. He turned and bolted towards the jungle with unexpected swiftness.

  As he ran, he turned his head back, his face a horrifying mix between pain and fervor. “I'll be back! I will save you!”

  Enyah frowned as he escaped, watching his figure shrink into the darkness. She closed an eye, raising a finger while tracking his sprint.

  “Boom.” She muttered to herself, imagining the shot of the pistol piercing the target. If she had her gun on her, he'd be dead. Yet her pistol was with Rinne, providing extra protection while he hid in the restroom.

  Still, she wasn’t overly concerned. Even if he ran, he wouldn't be able to catch up to Zarts without using an airship or teleportation. A religion like Lamdors wasn’t the type to have either.

  She gave her bloodied cutlass a swing, blood sprinkling through the air, before sheathing it beneath her cloak, hidden from sight.

  “Heeeeeyy!!!!” Kathy’s cheerful voice called out from behind her. Enyah glanced back, spotting the girl swinging her legs while she sat at the edge of the broken window. “Had your fun yet?”

  “Just about,” Enyah replied, turning towards the building. “Killed?”

  “Killed.” Kathy confirmed, a pure smile blooming on her face, as if talking about picking flowers rather than slaughter.

  With a satisfied smirk, Enyah climbed the Inn's frame, gripping its wooden edges and pulling herself up. She slipped through the crack, landing safely inside the room. Kathy jumped to her feet the moment she landed, wrapping her with an energetic hug.

  “You know.” Kathy said, her voice muffled by Enyah’s cloak. Not that either of them minded. Kathy had always been a very touchy girl. Enyah was used to it by now. “I think I'm a real stunner with grey hair.”

  “You sure are.” Enyah replied, her tone warm but absentminded. She raised the girl in her arms herself. From a street rat to the skilled killer she was today. She'll always be a single ray of light in this dreary, disgusting world.

  Lifting her hand, she gently patted Kathy's head. She giggled, rubbing her head in response, like a cat showing affection. Even grown up, she's still a kid. Enyah smiled fondly.

  “Is the boy safe?” Enyah enquired, her eyes drifting to the closed bathroom door, its surface unscathed compared to the conflict closeby.

  “They never knew he was there!” Kathy begrudgingly separated from Enyah and gave a playful salute. Though mischievous, she knew when to be professional.

  Enyah nodded, satisfied. “Good.” She glances around the wrecked room, noting the aftermath of their fight. Two corpses lay on the floor, their freshly spilled blood seeping into the rug. This room was ruined for the foreseeable future. Not to mention the noise, keeping at least a few of her fellow patrons up.

  “I could still go with you. I'd be really helpful.” Kathy said casually, but her eyes betrayed her eagerness. Her stare was intense, almost desperate.

  “No.” Enyah said, her tone firm and offering no refusal. “Stay here. The port needs you. Those fanatics could strike the port any day, and the next stampede is coming soon to boot. Lots for you to do here.”

  Kathy’s shoulders drooped, her energy vanishing. “Okay…” she mumbled, kicking her heels on the floor in disappointment.

  Enyah placed a firm hand on her shoulder, startling the girl. She looked up, wide eyed, as Enyah spoke. “I'm counting on you.”

  Kathy perked up instantly, her back straightening and snapping back into her cheerful salute. “Yes! You don't have to worry at all. I'll keep our home safe and sound while you're gone!”

  Enyah smiled fondly at the energetic girl. “I know you will.”