Raging Phoenix: Part Six

Ælfgifu was slowly growing accustomed to the bitter taste of dirt, the obvious result of having both her hands and feet restrained for almost a day. ”[Status.Window]…[Status.Window]— [Status.Window]!” The girl cried until it felt as if a thousand blades were carving into her throat. However, no [Window] appeared to banish the darkness of that wretched cave.

She first glanced down at her hands, tied with nothing more than a cheap rope, the kind one could buy at a store, then, gritting her teeth, she pulled with all the strength she had left. “C’mon! C’mon! C’MON!”

As she strained, her thoughts went to a training session from just a few days ago, when Mr. Anhogi had kicked a block of incandescent steel straight at her. At first, she had dodged it out of fear. But after the professor’s cruel words—and Kafka’s cheers—she faced it head-on, punching the molten boulder and shattering it into a thousand shards, and even though the ‘Sinful Blade’ had clarified that the exercise was meant for little babies with special problems, Ælfgifu felt so proud of herself.

“So…why?” After her final desperate cries faded into breathless sobs, her strength abandoned her as well, leaving an intense pain free to overwhelm the girl and halt her feat. The ’Dust Symphonist’ lost her balance and collapsed into the mud—staining her yellowed porcelain.

”Why…w-why always me, oh ’I-imperfect E-eclipser.’” Her tears removed the insipidness from the dirt in her mouth. ”Mom…then Æthelred…D-daddy…What I’ve done to deserve this.” After another bite of dust, the Marquise De La Marche shifted her attention to her feet, kicking frantically at the rope that bound them in a desperate attempt to tear it apart. Yet, all she managed to do was scrape away the layer of dirt coating the floor, revealing a treasure hidden for thousands of years—a mosaic.

Hundreds of tiny tiles had been revealed by her relentless scratching, and thousands more seemed to stretch across the entire floor. Ælfgifu did her best to clear the ones within her reach, rolling across the ground to uncover them, and in the end, she succeeded in bringing to light a grand artwork that spanned the entirety of her wretched cell. It depicted a lavish banquet, its guests dressed and behaving with divine-like opulence, indulging themselves in a thermal spring where the water had been replaced by red wine. Yet what truly captured her attention were the—imperfections.

Many tiles appeared misplaced—for example, the face of a handsome prince was affixed to the body of a fat slave, who was gently kissing the slender and gorgeous legs of…a horse—and mesmerized by its mysterious allure, Ælfgifu tried to envision the ’correct’ version in her mind. However, there was one simple yet fundamental problem—it didn’t exist. Millions of possible tiles arrangements could produce a coherent version of the mosaic, and the few mosaics she managed to imagine all felt correct. “Except this one…” she whispered.

”ကျွန်ေတာ် မတရားလုပ်ေနတယ်၊ မင်းက ေြခာက်ြခားေနတယ်.” A scream in the distance shattered the only moment when her mind was free from the dark thoughts about her future. Her captors were seated around a rotting wooden table, playing a card game as alien as the language they spoke. ”ေကျးဇူးြပµ၍ ြငင်းမေနပါနဲ။့ ငါ့ကို ေငွေပးပါ။.” The loser barked, drawing a serpent-shaped blade and lunging toward the winner’s throat. ”ေကျးဇူးြပµ၍ ေချာစွာ ေြပာပါ။ ငါ့ကို မုန်းတီးေနပါလား.” In less than an instant, his teeth sharpened and two pairs of sharp fangs grew in his mouth, blocking the knife by grinding it. Then, the winner bit the loser’s throat, tearing it apart with sheer strength, and as the victim died in a pool of his own blood, the other pirates laughed at him while the humanoid beast feasted on his tracheas. ”ေကျးဇူးတင်ပါတယ်။ ကျွန်ေတာ်အကူအညီလိုအပ်ပါ ေမးြမန်း&ုိင်ပါည်။.” With a powerful kick, the pirate tossed the corpse toward Ælfgifu. It slammed against the mana barrier that sealed her cell from the rest of the cave, splattering blood across the bluish wall.

Already paralyzed by shock, the girl could do nothing as a storm of incomprehensible insults got past that barrier to hit her. She covered her ears, desperate to think about anything else, and when her gaze finally lifted, the girl discovered that the ceiling of that way-too-large cave was lined by magnificent statues. Those outside her cell were hyperrealistic, depicting figures similar to the ones in the mosaic, but the ones nearby puzzled the Marquise so profoundly that she momentarily forgot her fear. They reminded her of the sugar cubes she dropped into her tea—thousands of tiny marble blocks, somehow fused together to form life-sized sculptures.

Perfect from a distance, but imperfect up close—this isn’t their hideout. It took her a while, but the ’Dust Symphonist’ finally understood the truth. Perhaps the pirates had simply taken over an ancient temple to establish their den, but she was sure that wasn’t the case, seeing something in their eyes hidden beneath the overconfident masks they wore—a flicker of fear mixed with curiosity whenever they glanced at the cubical statues. Someone else is behind this…Ysoline died…for me. “Dammit!” She screamed, again and again, desperate to extinguish the flames of guilt and fury raging inside her chest.

”တာဝန်ရှိည်.” Her kidnappers yelled, ordering her to shut up. Then, some harassed the girl with vulgar gestures so crude they broke through the language barrier, and for the first time in her life, the Marquise felt genuinely grateful for her sister’s abdication—she knew all too well what would have happened otherwise. Nevertheless, their behavior betrayed their true intentions, and free from the threat of retaliation, Ælfgifu unleashed a storm of insults at the pirates, who, like children at the zoo, retaliated by tossing garbage at her.

Everything about them felt alien to her. Their bronze skin, the colorful cloths draped around their bodies instead of real clothing, and the tribal tattoos completely covering their arms. Would they ransom her? Sell her as a concubine to some warlord? Or sacrifice her to the God of Death, like what happened to Princess Cassandra in episode 37? She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. And she felt powerless, but this time, Ysoline wasn’t there to hold her.

”[Status.Window]…[Status.Window]—[Status.Window]!” She tried again, and failed again. Frustrated, she punched a nearby rock, and for the first time in a week, the wounds didn’t disappear. “Why…?” Her answer came as soon as she glimpsed at a small pool of blood left by the dead pirate, revealing something she hadn’t noticed before—black spots all over her neck. These things…just like during the Dungeon Raid… As she began connecting the dots, the sound of footsteps echoed through the forgotten temple, prompting every pirate to stand at attention.

”You’re finally awake.” The voice spoke in Adamic. ”So, how have you enjoyed this unexpected holiday, Marquise Rougedior?” From the shadows emerged a familiar figure—fair-skinned and golden-haired—and for a slight moment, the sight of someone other than the pirates soothed her heart. However, that comfort evaporated the instant she saw his expression—more devilish than anything she had ever witnessed. ”You may be a little confused about your current situation. Nonetheless, I’m sure you’re smart enough to be a good girl—right, boss?” Another figure joined the main stage. A strange one, indeed, because it wasn’t a person at all, but a colossal tiger—three times the hugest pirate—which slowly reached the man’s side, roaring at the girl behind the barrier. ”My name is Perry,” the man said, pulling a small remote out of his pocket. ”An innocent victim of your cancerous Empire, who’s found new life among this pirate host.” He pressed a button, and the barrier vanished. ”None of my friends speak our language, which makes me your only hope.” He leaned in close, licking his lips as he caressed her cheek—his piercing blue eyes locked onto her. ”So the rumors were true. You really are a living doll, sculpted from the finest porcel—” Her lungs might have run out of oxygen to scream, but her teeth were still sharp. ”AAAAAAAAAAH!” Perry screamed as Ælgifu hydrated herself with his blood.

*Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ROAAAAAAAAAAR!* The giant tiger was about to retaliate, but Perry—still reeling from the pain—raised a hand and calmed the beast with a command in a foreign language.

”I’ve heard Marcher girls were beasts,” he sneered, wiping the blood from his face. ”But I never thought it was meant literally.”

”My sister is going to unleash the full power of the Phoenix to find me…burning alive, under argentine flames, every single life-form in the a-archipelago…I-it d-doesn’t matter w-where you try to h-hide…she’s…going…to…kill…you…all.” The words were so defiantly in Ælfgifu’s mind, but all her trembling lips could muster was a broken whisper—amusing Perry.

”No attempt at negotiation? Are you stupid, or just smart enough to realize who hired us?” He leaned in once more, this time seizing her by one of her pigtails, cruelly pulling her head up.

”Don’t touch my hair!” She screamed through her tears. In response, Perry smirked before slicing off one of her pigtails with a knife.

”NOOOOOOOOO!” Her voice cracked, her throat raw from screaming, but, somehow, she found the strength for one last screech. ”How c-could you? My f-father l-loved my h-hair…MY FATHER LOVED MY HAIR—NO ONE CAN TOUC—” Her words were cut off by Perry’s fist crushing onto her petite face.

”Shut up, you fucking bitch!” Her head slammed against a stone, her vision blinking in and out. Then, the ex-waiter grabbed her second pigtail, cutting that one too. ”Your father is dead. Your mother is dead. Your brother is dead. And the rest of your family? They despise you, begging your sister to change her mind.” He kicked her directly in the stomach, sending her rolling toward the wall. Without her [HP] to absorb the blow, the pain was unbearable and her body betrayed her, losing control of her urges. ”Ahahah, did the Marquise De La Marche, the descendant of Heroine Maëlys, really just piss herself? Ahahaha!” Perry snickered, placing his feet over her face to keep it on the ground. ”Spoiled brat, that’s what your subjects really think of you and what they call you behind your back. No one ever loved you, and the only reason anyone endures your cancerous personality is your inheritance.”

”LIAR! Ysoline…” Ælfgifu split a cocktail of slipt, tears, and blood. ”S-he w-was…m-my…f-friend.” Although the porcelain doll was now covered in cracks, she found the strength to defend the only light she had ever known. However, Perry guffawed at her.

”And here I thought you were smart.” His lips twisted into a devilish smirk. ”Ysoline, your only friend—has sold you to us." Ælgifu’s heart and mind were now forced to face what she had suspected deep down but refused to believe. ”Why so quiet now?” Perry mocked. ”Let me guess—you already knew, didn’t you? You just didn’t have the courage to admit it.” He crouched down beside her, savoring the decomposition of her reality. ”If you die, the title of Marquis passes to your cousin—Ysoline’s fiancé. Convenient, no? And do you know what else she told me? That it was her father who forced her to stay close to your side, and that smiling at you every day was torture because in your little dollhouse, no one else existed but you.”

“L…i…a…r…” Ælfgifu whispered, too broken to shout.

”No wonder she hated you. You don’t even realize how you treat people. Your brain is rotten to the core, so putrid that your vile behavior seems normal to you.” From the pirates' table, he took a bottle of fake Bologne, popped the cork, and poured it over her bleeding wounds as if they were goblets, savoring her spasms with sadistic delight. ”Cheers, little Marquise. Oh, I almost forgot, hey, boss, it’s time to introduce yourself.”

A semi-conscious Ælfgifu blinked through blood and tears, watching as the towering animal beside Perry slowly rose to his feet. As he stood, his form began to shift, morphing into something between a wild beast and a man. He was covered in vibrant orange fur marked with black stripes. His claws were long, curved like sickles. And, his massive fangs could crush any bone with ease. Yet, unlike a mere tiger, his upper body was as sculpted as a strongman, each muscle perfectly defined. By contrast, his lower body was built for speed with slender and powerful legs that could outrun any prey—the apex predator.

…It’s him…he killed Ysoline.

The creature stepped forward, placing three fingers against Ælfgifu’s large forehead. Her amethyst eyes met his opal ones—a rainbow spiraling around a white pupil.

”I present our leader, the rightful ruler of Par Myarthaw—Level-19α ’Panthera Phasmavisor’ Ghatobhàmi Gauda.

Suddenly, the ’Dust Symphonist’ felt three sharp objects pierce her skin, and the next instant, Gauda dragged his massive paw downward.

”Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”

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