I Killed Her
If the god had given some hint, it might have bestowed something capable of opposing me. I'd learned the hard way last time that curiosity can invite disaster. I chose safety over satisfying my curiosity. Tulisa was someone I couldn't let live anyway. It was just a matter of time.
"Next, then."
As my gaze swept over the witches cowering behind Tulisa, none of them even thought to flee—they just trembled. They might possess somewhat unusual abilities, but they were only threats to ordinary people.
Miriam's soul began to slip free. Yet absorbing this fragment felt off somehow. Wouldn't that watchful entity have anticipated this? Could it be a trap?
That being surely knew Tulisa couldn't stop me. Abilities like brainwashing people into slaves or turning them into meals weren't particularly useful even if I absorbed them.
I decided to forgo the fragment embedded in Tulisa's soul. Compared to the one from Nergal I'd absorbed in the past, this was far smaller anyway. Come to think of it, I had no idea what happened to fragments I let pass. Watching this one might prove interesting.
"Um, holy one?"
One witch stepped forward with a beaming smile and approached me. It was Siesta of Illusions. She probably thought she'd cast an illusion on me, but parlor tricks like that didn't work.
"Shut your trap and stay put, you hag."
People who saw Siesta of Illusions thought her a stunning beauty, but her true form was a wrinkled crone. Her already ugly face twisted further as she retreated.
The ghost shaman Naru, the one I'd been most curious about, lurked at the back of the group, gauging her chances. It was obvious she was plotting something—either flight or attack.
"You there, Naru."
"Y-yes?"
She jolted upright at my call. Western witches tended to be beauties, so why were the eastern ones so lacking? Naru the ghost shaman was downright homely. Not that I planned to discriminate based on looks. I was just curious about the reason. The world still held many mysteries I didn't understand.
"Are the souls you control ones you've killed yourself?"
The souls Naru manipulated were resentful souls. I didn't fully grasp the principle behind her control. If she could command wandering souls or evil spirits the same way, she'd be a serious threat.
"N-no, sir."
Naru controlled exactly twenty-three resentful souls. Not every killing produced one. They formed only with intense grudge upon death, and even then at very low odds. To gather twenty-three by her own hand, she'd have slain hundreds.
"Then how do you control resentful souls?"
Did she peel them off others? But the numbers didn't add up. In any ordinary territory, collecting resentful souls was trivial—few nobles lacked one or two clinging to them. Especially here near the Great Labyrinth, mercenaries trailed them like chains.
"W-well, one day I just... suddenly knew how."
That tracked; most witches awakened their powers that way.
"I'm asking about the method. Can you control every resentful soul you see?"
Each of Naru's resentful souls was feeble—comparable to my own when I'd first become a drifting soul, maybe a touch stronger. But two dozen combined could pack a punch.
"No. I have to... resolve their grudges first."
That was an unexpected mechanism. She'd resolved twenty-three grudges?
Resolving them still meant killing, in a way.
"Why not gather more you can control?"
"Because it requires killing people."
Naru seemed more level-headed than expected.
"Then why join this mess?"
"Tulisa said she'd build a world where women like us could thrive."
"A world where everyone else is enslaved, you mean?"
Naru bit her lip without replying. Even with Tulisa dead, the three hundred who'd eaten witch stew remained comatose slaves. They might wake eventually—or die that way. A subtle test with healing authority yielded no response.
Even a tiny shard of divine authority could wreak such havoc on the human world. It could bring good, too, but I'd witnessed firsthand how it could twist.
Tulisa had incited them, sure, but these twenty-four witches, gathered to forge their own paradise—most had likely endured persecution after awakening, twisting them thus.
"So, what does your 'thriving world' look like?"
No one answered. Hard to speak when any reply might mean death.
I wasn't clueless about a subordinate's position.
"Is it one where you're on top? Then it's hell for everyone else—just like what you suffered. 'I went through it, so you should too.' That's not the path to a better world, even in a thousand years."
The witches kept their heads down. Time to decide their fate. Mass execution had never been the plan.
"Wait here. You're free to leave. But if I catch you stirring trouble, no mercy."
I left the witches and moved on. Relocating them to the New Continent crossed my mind, but a better option existed.
I arrived at Needlestone, the village where western witches gathered.
"We've been expecting you, holy one."
"First time seeing you in person. Melania."
The great witch Melania, leader of the western witches, awaited me in the village center.
"You saw me coming?"
"Yes."
She had prophetic gifts—not frequent or clear, but not to be dismissed.
"Then you know why I'm here?"
"Of course."
"Can you handle it?"
"That part isn't clear. But we'll do our best. The poor things."
Melania smiled brightly. Same wrinkled granny as Siesta, but worlds apart in vibe.
"Then I'll leave it to you. Call if issues arise—I'll handle them personally."
"No need."
"Thanks anyway. Saves me work."
"Just doing what's right."
Melania exuded inexplicable certainty. Had she foreseen that much? If so, good.
I returned to the eastern witches. Though I'd kept watch, five had slipped away in my brief absence—Siesta with four young ones. Nineteen remained.
"Why stay?"
"We have nowhere else."
Siesta didn't seem rooted anywhere, but whatever.
"Someone's building a better world your way—different methods, but yours. I'll send you there."
I escorted them to Needlestone. The village witches had prepared a welcome. The easterners started bewildered but gradually warmed.
As I watched, a young witch approached.
"Long time no see, holy one."
"Yeah, it's been a while."
It was Nivea, the girl whose curse I'd once lifted, now blossomed into a stunning beauty.
"Leaving so soon?"
"Nothing left for me here."
Nivea hesitated, but didn't speak. I wasn't blind, but played dumb.
"We'll meet again someday."
Not prophecy, just a hunch. Or she could visit.
"I'd like that."
Nivea beamed. Succubus blood, maybe? Her smile had an enchanting pull.
I headed back to the eastern witches' village to deal with the three hundred motionless bodies. Then my clone tracking Tulisa's soul spotted something odd.
Normal souls ascend skyward, dispersing at a certain height. At that point, external interference struck Tulisa's soul. A hand reached from void, snatching the fragment—not a full body, just a sudden grasp, then gone.
Original owner reclaiming it, or someone else? Needed answers.
The moment the fragment vanished, the stew victims awoke, fleeing every which way. Dodged that chore, at least.
I chose Drakan for questions. Bastet was friendly but dodgy on details.
I skipped descending nearby, heading straight to the Great Labyrinth, blasting through the entrance in twelve hours to the plaza where I'd met Drakan before. From the shadows emerged the massive golden dragon.
Always an impressive sight.
[What brings you, wandering recorder?]
"A question, Drakan. Something strange happened today—do you know?"
[I do.]
"Whose fragment was it, and who retrieved it?"
[Unknown owner. Juno reclaimed it.]
Small mercy. If the original took it back, I'd feel cheated.
"Were outer god interferences always this frequent?"
Plenty in my lifetime alone. Drakan's tales skipped gods—either he didn't know or they weren't there.
[They were. Not this often.]
"Why now?"
[Our power falls short—mine and Juno's.]
Honest, but implied more to come. Me handling each one?
Annoying, but outer god fragments fueled my growth if processed. Imotep wanted to wait last time; I'd need strength by then. Record-keeping grew power too slowly.
"Must I keep stepping in?"
[Not necessarily.]
"Alternatives?"
[No—it's your choice.]
Irresponsible much? A few Nergal shards left alone could doom the world.
"If I don't act, the world might end?"
[This world stagnates.]
"Not sure what you mean."
[In your reincarnator companion's world—how many ascend to godhood?]
No chief god, yet humans held outer gods at bay for 250 years. Must teem with powerhouses. Setas's old unit alone made gods freak as "godslayers." Thousands like him.
"Plenty, I'd say."
[Yes. This world?]
One ascension in millennia—Drakan. The issue?
No supply for Juno's aides. Current candidates? Me and Howard, maybe—uncertain even then.
"Stagnation in that sense."
[Precisely. We fail to block sometimes, and permit at limits. We want struggle, growth.]
Juno and Drakan's logic held. Valid. But the sacrifices loomed vivid.
[Worry not. We've prepared long. Aid comes soon. Recorder, mind your duty.]
Drakan vanished from sight. I'd been relocated—farther this time. A familiar face awaited.
Familiar to me, anyway. I'd watched her long enough.
"I've awaited you, second holy one."
She knew me? And why wait?