W's pupils suddenly widened.
"You! It's you—!?"
She sprang up like a shrimp. Even though she had been unable to move just moments ago, she still launched such an attack—a dark, poisoned dagger that had been hidden all along suddenly shot out. She intended to use that sliver of matte light to assassinate the great enemy before her!
She failed.
Persephone lightly snatched away her dagger, as if plucking a flower from a garden. At the same time she took the weapon, she slapped the middle of W's spine. The resulting paralysis throughout W's body, originating from her central nervous system, sent her crashing to the ground like a stone. She could no longer even speak.
Persephone's desire to kill her was hardly any more difficult than crushing an ant.
And W's resistance could go no further than glaring furiously at her.
Thus, the unappointed Doctor shook his head.
"After waking up, I kept considering one question—under what circumstances would the unparalleled martial prowess and intellect of this era, both of equal magnitude, end up in such a state even after joining forces? What made strength and wisdom unite? What caused that alliance to fail anyway, to the point that I even had to erase the corresponding memories?"
"I reached a conclusion, but unfortunately, I cannot voice it. And that excites me. It feels like a challenge. It means I no longer have the leisure to play role-playing games with vermin."
She bent slightly toward W, who could do nothing but glare angrily at her.
"You are not qualified to kill me. Perhaps you would have had a chance if that foolish woman were here. At that time, I would have upheld the promise I made to her. Even if you humiliated me in every possible way or killed me, I would not resist—but that was her right, her pity and indulgence toward you. It has nothing to do with you yourself."
"After all, in this world, the only person qualified to kill me besides myself is her."
The Queen of the Underworld lightly flicked the dagger in her hand. In the next instant, a suddenly erupting blade of air burst from her fingers and swiftly swept around W's neck.
With a wet thud, the purple-haired girl's head fell to the ground amid a spray of blood. Her indifferent, emotionless eyes met the fury and shock filling W's gaze.
Then everything in the world gradually grew blurred and chaotic.
Almost 4,000 words. This really should have been posted as two sections.
The Twenty-Ninth Section · Girl Packing in Progress
It was the same familiar street, the same familiar city, the same familiar time—apart from the lack of an apple stand, everything was exactly like certain classic scenes.
Surtr stood quietly at the street corner, thinking.
—My heart is so tired. Am I really the one with the problem?
—Did I really choose the wrong way to face this world?
—Do I... really have somewhere in this world to entrust my feelings, rather than it all being a mere illusion?
She closed her eyes and breathed softly. Thoughts surged endlessly through her heart like ocean waves, only to be completely gathered away in an instant.
She wanted to sleep.
She wanted to dream.
She wanted to go to any relatively peaceful, quiet dream realm, to soothe... or verify her thoughts.
Her restlessness lasted about ten seconds.
Then she opened her eyes and cast aside all hesitation.
"I am Surtr." She told herself, "I will not be easily misled, nor will I turn a blind eye to real mistakes. I will use my hands and eyes to verify everything and decide everything. I will not easily lose myself in the behavior formed by simple words and actions."
What Talulah had said seemed to be true.
Talulah's actions had proven her will and determination—she would rather give up everything she had, give up her cause, her family, her friends, and her beloved, than do anything but find a way to shift the position of her faction. She wanted to change herself from an outsider observing the world into a participant within it. Her feelings were pure and flawless, and were certainly not a trap or scheme.
But her ideas and understanding were not necessarily absolutely correct. Her thoughts might well have been induced by someone or something.
The earth and the ocean, the ocean and the sky—too many secrets were hidden in this world. No one could pronounce judgment on everything, and no ideology could decide everything. If one did not wish to fall into eternal darkness, then at the very least, one had to possess the ability to think and judge independently.
Thus, Miss Surtr softly exhaled—not heat, not Sulfur, nor burning time, but merely a slightly moist, faintly warm breath, common during late autumn.
"First..." Her gaze shifted toward somewhere at the end of the street—the familiar ice cream truck was still parked there just as before. While the shopkeeper hurriedly and chaotically packed up his stall, the sign above the elderly Ursus man's head swayed precariously as usual.
She silently walked over to the shopkeeper. Even though she was more than ten seconds late, she still caught the fallen advertising sign.
She received a word of thanks.
She ordered a triple-flavor ice cream.
And beyond that...
"Uncle, may I ask if you have any sturdy woven sacks?" She gestured with her hands. "It needs to be opaque, large, and big enough to hold... an entire bed quilt."
She received an affirmative answer.
Talulah felt somewhat hesitant.
She stood at the very top of the control tower, watching the entire city through the observation window. She was certain that the person she was waiting for had already entered the city. She was even more certain that it would not take that person long to find her.
After all, she had not deliberately concealed her movements. Whether by deduction, asking people for information, or searching for clues in the Reunion Movement's temporary base, finding her would absolutely not be difficult with that person's methods and abilities. According to her calculations, that person should have taken action by now, no matter what.
—Was she delayed by something else?
—Was it because of Rhodes Island, the current medical organization formerly known as Sarkaz Babel Tower?
—I heard that an important figure from Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals has been recuperating in Chernobog. Although neither her identity nor the specific information is known, I know that a squad will arrive soon... Perhaps she intends to deal with that matter first?
"Never mind. It's fine. She'll come sooner or later. Because she is Surtr." The Dragon Girl's eyelids drooped slightly. She held a purified Originium crystal in her hand. It was her weapon, and her destiny. As long as she swallowed this refined crystal, her Originium Infection and the accompanying Originium Arts would deepen within an extremely short period to a lethal degree rivaling even part of Frostnova's full strength. That would allow her to ignite her own life and make it blossom into a momentary firework.
—I will die. That is only natural. But I must do this... because humans cannot defeat gods. As long as gods refuse to understand and refuse to accept, humanity's strongest weapons—spirit, ideals, and will—will all become useless. And I have been gathering information about her, news of her. I know she cannot hold on much longer.
—This world is losing its appeal to her. Perhaps it will not take long before she looks at all things in the world the way a giant dragon looks at ants—a giant dragon cannot see ants at all. And by then, Terra's shadow... no, I cannot say that word. I cannot even think it in my head.
She bit the tip of her tongue. The sharp pain and metallic sweetness stopped her thoughts from continuing.
Thinking—thinking was dangerous.
And on this land, where countless ambitious people proclaimed themselves players when they were in fact no more than marionettes hanging from strings, only a very small number of those who held power and strength enjoyed the freedom to think as they pleased.
She gazed into the distant sky, watching the increasingly violent Cataclysm cloud and the entire city under the control of chaos and unrest. Her already uneasy heart grew subtly more agitated.
She unconsciously rubbed her fingertips. The coolness of the silver ring brought her inner turmoil slightly under control—it was Alina's final gift, torn from her horn before she left. Whenever she recalled that scene, the heart in her chest, no longer restless, filled with a piercing pain that cleared her thoughts.
—I deserve to die miserably, because to accomplish my goal, to drag her back into the world of the living, I willingly picked up the doctrine that the Black Serpent once taught me.
Before you continue