Chapter 118: Of Twisted Minds

Anger consumed her like mad. She thought of nothing in the few years other than revenge and revenge. She thought of her days as maddening. The tears of a once old friend, her only ally in the world still ever present in her memories like an eternal flame.

She held a barbed lance. This lance has pierced many Orc hearts and bathed on Orc blood for quite a time now. But now all of the Orc’s are dead, by her hand. She joined the forces towards their volcanic mountain and used her hatred for them to perish them rightly.

She killed every single Orc and those who tried to escape were hunted down by her. She led her army into the heart of the Orcs and now they are no more.

The Orcs are nothing but ashes of the past. The death of a friend she loved was now avenged. All the Orcs are now down to hell.

Yet killing them all didn’t bring her friend back. She felt empty as she holds her barbed lance. She sees the bloodied lands of the Orcs and how empty it was without their green-skins. Only drunkards intoxicated with a victory could be seen on the lands.

The Orcs are either hanged on stakes or stabbed on pikes. The ‘lucky’ orcs were thrown in the volcano were mostly the Pyromancers are trained. But without the ritual, all the normal Orcs were killed there. She led their death by dragging them.

Those who fought would be stab by her barbed lance. She showed no mercy to the Orcs. She remembered her loving ally being killed by them. They did not show mercy. They did not show any ounce of empathy as they kill her. She could remember and it will never leave her head.

She is clouded by vengeance. Her thoughts were blank and all she could think was annihilation. She hated them and through this hate that she became worse than she thought. Only through the last Orc got pushed that she seemed to awake from a long dream.

She found herself covered in blackened armor. The barbed lance that she carried everywhere now felt eerie to her. Then, thoughts and memories rushed into her head. She thought how terrible it was. And even with that rush of memories. The hatred she had for the Orc’s did not seize.

“Milady, are you okay?”

A man covered in plate asked her. He looked worried. She thought that she didn’t need the company so she sent the man away curtly. She found a spot to sit and frown. Looking at the magma below her she then thought. They are all dead. What now? She never expected her obsessive hatred to be done and over with.

She stared fixedly at the magma beneath her. Her eyes never missing any bubbles that pop and release a wisp of smoke. Her thoughts were blank. And there was nothing she could think at the moment other than worry. Her vengeance was done just like that.

She fought many battles. Unknown to death, unknown to living, always in a hill of corpses, covered with blood, holding a green head with two protruding fangs near the cheeks.

Her eyes whirled like a pool. Her brown hair that was usually inside a dreary black helmet fluttered wildly with the air. The hot magma beneath her made her skin glistened with sweat. Tears appeared at the edges of her eyes. The bratty princess who lost her only friend was human again.

As if she woke from a long slumber. The horrible memories of what she did resurface on her head. She remembered a warm gentle back. She remembered a smile without any light on the eyes. She remembered a strange man who’d help without being asked.

She remembered the man feeding her. She remembered that defiant man she could not understand washing her armpits without any intention to take advantage of her. She remembered the way he moved like a panther. She remembered how that man would protect her in the darkest night. She remembered how that man would protect her as if his body was made of steel.

It was odd how she could remember him. There was no one in her twisted little head that sparked her attention other than the odd man who once carried her through vast mountain ranges. When she was depressed at the lost of her friend and only ally the man took care of her knowing that she could walk and just do fine.

“Ah.”

She remembered the touch of that man. She remembered his fingers crawling up her shoulder blades, her forearms, her thighs and her hair. She was at first irritated that the man did not touch her. She was rather vain and she knew that no man would pass up the opportunity to impregnate a lady of a noble house.

Yet the man did not see her that way. Protecting her from everything and killing everything for her, caring for her as if she was a treasure.

She hated that man out of pride. Yet when she thought of his actions and the way he was gentle with her. She began to think that maybe it was not that bad.

However, she knew what she did to that man. She remembers that man’s lonely yet satisfied smile as she pushes that man off a cliff. She remembered that face that didn’t hate her and knowing what she did. She thought of how cruel she was to her benefactor.

Her eyes grow dimmed. Her eyes became hazy and her heartbeat grew wild. Her thoughts that were blank suddenly went twisted. The lady who was obsessed with Orc slaying suddenly had the urge to learn necromancy and bring that person back to life.

Why would she want that person back to life? In fact, she wanted to ask if that wrought steeled man was still alive. She saw him fight and how the arrows of normal bandits would bounce off his skin. He was tough as steel, as deadly as a panther and was as gentle as a prince of a fairy tale.

Unexpectedly, the twisted lady who held a barbed lance in her hands made a smile unbefitting for a noblewoman. A smile filled with love and obsession. As if yearning for a touch she wanted to have. Now that she was done killing all the Orcs.

She wanted to go back and cling on that warm back. She wanted to be fed by that hand again. She wanted her body touched lovingly again.

Thinking about this made this odd lady touched her cheeks as if she was normal.

But she was not.