Trapped in a dream, the girl writhed about mad. The girl was reminded of the incident with the inanis. And how it made her feel alive to edge the cull of death and survive. It was a disgusting feeling, but pleasurable — like that bliss of seeing a rival fail.

Surrounded by flesh, the girl should be terrified, petrified. But she found herself smiling instead. She was in control. She was the one who decided who fell and who got back up. It was a disgusting but pleasurable feeling.

Anise caressed the walls of flesh around her — this space of only flesh. Pulsating, beating masses of flesh. It was soft flesh, tender like a baby. She squeezed it. Blood oozed into her hands and made her palm sticky. Anise punched the flesh and a wail sent the entire room quivering. The girl got goosebumps. In her trance she breathed in the sour scent of iron tinged sweet with lust. It was a disgusting but pleasurable feeling.

The girl ventured deeper into the womb of red and white flesh. She came upon intestines hung from the ceiling which she played with like ribbons tied to a swing. Then she came upon eyeballs which she used as balls for various games. She thought of the bones perfect to fashion into accessories or bowls. Next were skin which she used to clean the blood off her hands.

At the end of the halls of flesh, after an assortment of bones and meat, she came upon a dead child. The child bore the face of that same face pierced that early dawn some month ago.

And reality crashed back onto Anise. She glanced behind her, at the trail of blood and guts. She felt disgust take form of vomit and charge up her throat. Her knees trembled and she leaned on the walls — but threw herself off them once she realized the walls were of pulsating flesh.

Catching her breath, the girl looked for an exit. Any door or hole or crevice. She found none.

“Little girl, are you not pleased with your gift?” Usha spoke. And Anise saw the goddess for the first time in her life.

Usha was not beautiful. The goddess was grotesque and terrible. Her face was burnt such that it reminded one of roasted chicken of venison, this smoldering patchfield of soot and meat. Her entire face was burnt so that her two iridescent eyes stood out more like two halos in a crowd of blackness. The top of her head urged with the utmost desperation to grow hair, but only a few pitiful strands, like the ends of a frayed rope, poked through.

Anise desperately wished for Usha to wear clothes. Her body was the reagents of nightmare. Two sagging tits drooped from her lithe and bony body. These tits were like the odd offspring of a dried up eggplant and a bitter flaccid penis. Withered away, the pungent sour wafting from the breasts sent Anise into a dizzy frenzy. Attached to the torso, beside these sagging breasts, were eight arms, similar to a spider. Four stemmed out from the general area, but the others stretched out to act as legs from her pelvis area. Propped up, the goddess reached the ceiling in her grand grotesque form. These limbs were as malnourished as the goddess body. Yet that supposed frailness and thinness added an unbeatable sense of wariness and terror to the fallen goddess.

The goddess opened her mouth to speak again and Anise saw her crooked, green rotten teeth.

“After all, this is what you wish for deeply, little girl. The same as I do. You want destruction. You want war. You want blood and guts! You want death.”

“I —”

The goddess inched forward, making great gushing noises as she plodded across the fleshy floor. Usha tilted her head and hissed into Anise’s face.

“Do not lie to me, little girl. You’ve lied to yourself much too long.” The goddess pulled back and bit at the flesh ceiling. Tearing away at the flesh, blood splattered onto the girl below, dotting her lips and cheeks, and the goddess slurped the meat up in pleasure. “You do not fear death. You fear the thrall of it; of losing oneself and bringing death to those near you. It excites you, no? I can smell your ecstasy — and I can taste your self-loathing and disgust.”

Anise wiped away the blood from her face with shaking arms. “I —”

“Silence!” The goddess commanded. On her burnt face, slits opened up, ripped apart, to reveal miniature slithering tentacles. These slimy things lunged out and caressed the girl’s face. “I tire of waiting. My little babies here shall kill you if you do not speak truth, little girl.”

“If I die, you die,” Anise responded with pants stuffed in-between words.

Usha tilted her head with a snarl. “So you imply you lie, no, little girl? No matter, I was lying too. These babies of mine — they’re much more fun than just detecting lies.”

The probing tentacles suddenly shot forward and gouged deep into Anise’s face. Tore away skin and flesh until all latched itself deep into the girl’s brain. Blood and flesh of the girl littered the floor;

Usha used her hand-legs to pick it up and throw the delicacy into her mouth.

Anise’s conscious was sent into an alternate reality. She was naked, but there was nothing to cover herself up. Rather, the space around her consisted of darkness. The girl was unsure if that was because there lacked light, that she had no sight, or darkness simply existed. The girl groped around, but found nothing.

Until suddenly a flare of light bursted in front of her. Illuminated, the girl discovered herself to be in a coliseum of some sort. A pit reeked of death and guts — that spoiled odor of cheese marinated with the manure used to feed the crops. Opposite her, the girl saw the arrival of a human man — surely seven feet tall — bulged with muscles and similarly naked.

“Kill!” The announcer said in a whisper which pierced the silence like a sharpened dagger. He said no more.

The crowds began to cheer in odd, distorted chants. Anise saw these people and onlookers shroud in murky darkness.

The man charged at her, muscles rippled across his gross body of flesh. Anise dodged and rolled. She knew there was no discussion to be had. The man was a feral beast. And as she felt the adrenaline course through her, she knew she was one too.

The girl grabbed a good size rock from the ground. The beast opposite her pounded his chest and roared. Time slowed for her again, similar to when she faced the inanis: that hazy sensation of non-existence and absolute existence.

The beast charged at her with hands held like the mandibles of a spider or the tusks of elephants. The girl waited. When the beast was inches from slamming her down, the girl ducked. She leapt aside. Rolled and spun. With a scream, the girl did what she must — she pounded the rock onto the beast’s back.

The beast turned in a fury. He swung his arms like flails. The girl ducked and charged. She jammed the rock into his crotch.

The beast stumbled back with pain. The girl continued. She leapt onto the beast’s scarred chest with her feet stabbing into the beast’s crotch. Bang! Blood spluttered from the beast’s nose. Bang! His eyes unfocused as a white glow came into them. Whack! The beast’s neck cracked audibly and several yellowed teeth flew out and landed elsewhere. Bang! Bang! Bang!

The girl did not cease. With that same ferocious smile from the night she laid in the pool of blood, the girl slammed the rock into the beast’s face — the man’s face — without remorse. Battering it until the skull shattered and the rock plopped into the mush of what once was a man’s face.

Anise stood up awkwardly and stepped back. As the adrenaline died, she felt the weight of her actions buckle down on her shoulders. She felt disgust — with the pleasure she felt.

“Who says to kill is shameful?” The announcer’s voice floated down. The voice wrapped around her.

“Hear the crowd?”

Anise heard the crowd. They were cheering. Pounding their chests at her display of superiority.

“Why is it wrong to kill? To reign superior?” The announcer asked.

Anise looked at the crowd. At the dead man in front of her. She asked herself the same questions.

“B-because, they don’t deserve it.” Anise replied.

“Is that what you were taught, little girl?” The announcer’s husky voice took on a shrill octave as it barked at Anise’s stupidity. “Then what if they do deserve it?”

“I —”

“It would be good — right! justice! heroic! — to kill them then, right?”

“What if they’re human?”

“So?” The announcer asked. “Kill them too.”

“What if they’re family? Or friends? Or children? People I don’t know?”

“Did it feel good when you were bashing that ape’s head in, little girl? It will feel even better if you did it to people who are guilty — especially sinful people you know. And of the people you don’t know, well, there’s a certain pleasure to that too.” The goddess whispered temptingly into Anise’s voice.

Leaving the girl flushed, the goddess retracted her tentacles back into her face. The girl awoke from that acid trip screaming as the delayed pain tore into her. Yet, despite that, she felt her heart warm and fill with something akin to anticipation.

“You can’t deny what you are, little girl. A vessel for me, Usha the Fallen, the Decayed.” With those final words, the grim goddess stabbed through the writhing girl’s chest with a swift strike and tore out her heart.

Anise woke up in a cold sweat. It was still night time. Moving her hands uncertainly, she touched her face. She was smiling.

The following morning, Anise walked through the city. Pacing about the busy streets, bustled with noise and rapid movement which seem to drown any hope of friendship. At last when the Church bell rung noon — the sun hung lofty overhead — the girl walked to the Academy gates. She showed the Djinns guarding the gates the letter. After a short moment, the girl was ushered in through the gates. Her heart fell as the gates clanged dully behind her. The Djinn with a sewed up pus-spewing head led her to the center building — more of a mansion with three stories — erected prominently on the campus green. The banner hung above the doors was of the allegiance of the Church of Aalok, the Convent, and the High Lord. It was of a white triangle with a circle inscribed inside and a simple cross inscribed in the circle against a black background.

“Young girl, the dean is at the top floor, right down the hall. Just keep going down the halls until you find some stairs — climb the stairs and repeat. Best of luck,” the Djinn said politely and shuffled its way back to the gates. Anise followed those instructions until she found herself at a set of great black doors.

She knocked.

“Come in, I’ve been expecting you,” a wispy voice sounded from inside.

The girl entered and found a very short man seated on stacks of books behind a desk.

“Don’t be so surprised, take a seat Lady Tan’ae, or should it be Din’ae since you are married to the baron’s heir?” The bearded man asked.

Anise took a seat and replied, “Anise would be fine.”

“Good, cause I hate formalities the most,” the old man replied with a roll of his eyes as he started stamping several documents. “I am the dean — obviously — now if you did not know that, then please leave as I do not accept imbeciles — no matter how connected, rich, or gifted. Good? Good. My name is Filmvar ad Trinquen ne Quarto Gysille Jacqui — a mouthful, now you share my hate for formalities. And yes, I did not even include my formal titles which would be Chancellor of the Left, Marques of the Right, Dean of the Academy, Knight of Rhetorics, and so forth. Just call me Fil, and we will be swell.”

After such a bizarrely long introduction, the dean hardly seemed out of breath at all. After the introductions, the two went through the standard procedures: filling out forms, legal documents and records, blood signatures and such.

Then came the interview.

“I sense something in you. Something primal and dark,” the dean said. Though, he seemed more bored than interested. “Will that something be of an issue to the safety and bla and bla of this academy?”

“Oh, he could sense me without even touching you,” Usha remarked with interest.

“I ask you, will it be an issue?” Dean Fil leaned forward on his stack of books.

“He’s going to find out regardless — your bloodlust is not entirely influenced from me,” Usha laughed.

“Does anyone know when anything becomes an issue?” Anise replied a bit shakingly.

Dean Fil leaned back and stroked his beard. “Of course, else, why would we need a dean?”

“I believe a better question would be, will you be able to stop that something if it does get out of hand?”

“Did you not hear my title as Knight of Rhetorics? And, your counter was poorly executed — I can only hope your counters with a sword will be better. Now why do you want to enter my Academy?”

“I need the money.”

“Honest — somewhat. Satisfactory answer, I suppose,” the old man yawned. “Though, certainly it has to do with more of that something deep in you. What will you do with your mother?”

“Cherish her.”

“That’s all? Well, I suppose that’s an apt response for someone afflicted with such a debilitating mental disease. What of your in-laws?”

“I do not see how that’s relevant to the interview.”

“Your father-in-law is the baron of a rather important region. Answer the question, please.”

“Serve them as a daughter should.”

“So have children, and plenty of it.”

Anise scowled. “Are there no female knights who are also mothers?”

“I’m just afraid of miscarriage. Final question, what do you believe is core to life?”

“Not being dead.”

“First time I have heard that answer; rather liked it.”

“Does that mean I pass?”

“No, there’s still the physical portion of the test and the practical examination to be done. However, I like your spunk if nothing else.”

“That’s not a very good attitude for a dean to have,” Anise frowned. “There are no more questions?”

“I heard the young lady of the Tan’ae house to be charming — I am disappointed. You are such a bore,” Dean Fil replied. “And no, there are no other questions — you are a somewhat important figure that I have information on you. I’m just disappointed, that’s all.”

Anise pouted and stuffed her two cheeks out. “You happy?”

“Eh, my niece who recently turned 76 years is more charming.” The dean hopped off his stacks of books and began walking. “Come now, follow me. I may have lived a long time already, but I don’t have all the time in the world.”

“Little girl, you have become much more feisty since accepting your blood,” Usha remarked.

“I haven’t accepted anything. I’m just listening to reason. We need the money and treatment.”

The dean led her to another room in the building. It was a weapons room filled with racks of spears and swords and maces. Shields lied in a corner and bows in another. The dean had her do some exercises which he jotted down the results.

“You run fast though not the speed of a scout. You can lift weights, heavy weights, though you run out of breath faster than others. Endurace is unstable — I cannot tell if you are decently worked or nearing fainting. Moving on, weapon skills. Which one is most comfortable for you?”

Anise pointed to the swords and daggers.

“Good, we will start with a barehanded demonstration and save that for last.”

Anise punched and kicked at a wooden structure with various protrusions acting as arms and legs. She bruised herself more so than accomplish much with the wooden dummy. Next the girl moved on to using shields which she found to be a clunky affair ill-suited for her. Then she tried spear maneuvers and nearly jabbed the dean in the eye. After a series of moderate success and many fails, the two came upon the sword.

“Do you want to know your current assessment?”

The girl nodded.

“Your interview is an obvious red flag — but you don’t seem to be an imbecile and those are the only people I refuse to accept. Your physical capabilities barely edged out the acceptable values. And so far, your weapon skills are amateurish. Extremely so. But I am rather lenient on weapons, as most are not blessed to wield a sword and still have aptitude with a spear. But do know, this Academy only accepts those gifted— and so far, only that something lying inside you dissuades me from simply rejecting you.”

“Girl, will you borrow my power? You have never properly experienced my boon to you,” Usha said.

The girl mentally shrugged. Immediately she felt a hot sensation ripple through her. She grabbed the rapier and a dagger. The dean raised his brow.

Anise performed a series of sword exercises in front of the short man. There was no fault in the exercises: it was fast, sharp, and strong. Yet, it was not exemplar.

“Why are you holding back girl?” Usha asked with irritation. “Afraid you will kill him? I doubt it with you being at such a low level.”

Anise allowed more of the power to take form. A great miasma of lilac took form around her and her movements flourished. At first the purple looked like lotus flowers, but Dean Fil quickly saw them as odd wraiths.

A cold seeped into his body and stole his warmth. This sensation lingered upon his heart.

A storm gathered around Anise as she did her swordplay. The wind cut deep into the walls and floor as Anise picked up the pace. A distinct howl began, a chilling bite. When Anise felt her eyes burn and turn an iridescent purple glow, she stopped. With a roar, she plunged the sword into the ground and the sword exploded into shards which pierced into the nearby walls. The girl punched her dagger through the air and the blade shattered in her hands, cutting it. But that destruction caused a shockwave which took the form of a wolf and tore through the air.

Getting up, the girl looked at the dean for appraisal.

“A bit flashy near the end, but that’s what being gifted is at times. A rather interesting something you have there — though whether that is enough, I do not know, and it seems you do not know its capabilities either. Perhaps I will chance on it; perhaps not. It depends on the practical portion — go grab a new sword and dagger, some gauze, pre-soaked in some medicine, as well for that hand, and we will go to the mock fight.” Then the dean looked at her. “Are you not afraid of me telling someone of that something?”

Blushing, Anise replied, “I honestly have not thought about it. Will you tell?”

The dean shrugged.

Furrowing her brows, the girl followed the man to the next part of the exam.

“Arei, you are free?” Dean Fil called out to a student as he and Anise stepped out onto the campus green.

Arei, a tall slim man dressed in leather armor, jogged over. He greeted the dean with a bow. The man smirked and gave a haughty once over at the girl.

“Dean Fil, wan me ta fight ‘er?” Arei asked. The dean nodded and led him and Anise to an open patch of grass.

“I’ve been meaning to replace the grass here, so go wild.”

Arei cracked his joints and took his sword from its sheath. He ran his tongue over the blade. “Nam

Arei, maja’ing som swardplay — hap to be a knight, or a merc. Pleased ta meet ya.”

“Anise. Pleased to meet you to,” the girl smiled and held her dagger and sword.

“Do you want my power?” Usha asked.

“I will use it when I deem it necessary, so shut up, you rotten goddess.”

“Begin!” Dean Fil announced and let his arms drop.

The two charged at each other. Arei gripped his sword with both hands and held it downwards at the side, as if tearing through the ocean like an oar. Anise held her two weapons in a cross formation.

Right before the collision, Anise spun and swung her sword downwards. Arei blocked it with an upwards sweep. The two blades glanced off one another. Arei’s blade was heavier and bigger so

Anise stumbled a few steps back. But the girl recovered faster and jabbed with her dagger. Then a swipe. A slice. A cut.

Arei blocked them all easily. Slicing his sword upward as if following the current of a coursing river, the man tore through Anise’s block. Anise pulled back her head and saw strands of hair fall in front of her. Then following through the slice, Arei curved his sword back down like a pendulum. Gritting her teeth, Anise blocked. She was unsuccessful once more and had to leap back. She rolled to the side as Arei took the chance to jab his sword forward.

Getting back onto her feet, the two resumed their exchange of blades. It did not take long for both to fall into a natural rhythm. Arei’s swordplay mirrored that of water, swift and forceful, yet elegant and fluid despite the heavy sword. Each strike carried the indomitable motion of an ocean wave. Anise’s swordplay was much less polished in comparison. It felt like an awkward puppet show. Yet despite that awkwardness of the style, or perhaps because of that awkwardness, the girl had survived. However, now that the two were used to one another’s method of swordplay, Anise began to worry.

Arei had figured out exactly where and when openings occurred in Anise’s blocks. He targeted them extensively and Anise received numerous faint cuts on her arms and cheeks. However, one unfortunate engagement left her with a gaping gash running down her left calf.

“Do you want to give up?” Dean Fil asked.

“No!” Anise shouted back.

Despite the throbbing at her left, the girl stood firm. Her face curled into a smile. Arei felt that smile to be intimidating — a blend of feral anticipation and human coldness. Arei charged forward, sure the girl was at her last legs — the loss of blood muddling her sense of the situation.

As the man charged forward with a sweeping blow, Anise waited with her two weapons in a cross-formation.

“Ya thin’ I’ll fall fa tat?” Arei shouted and pivoted on his right heel. Spinning, the man slipped his way around Anise and sliced at her back.

Anise reacted. No, it was as if she foresaw it in her concentration and simply did the things which must be done. Despite her stabs missing as Arei slipped past her, the girl was able to use that momentum and spin to block the other man’s strike.

Her dagger caused Arei’s blade to glance upward, but the small blade flew out of her hand. Left with only her sword in her left hand, the girl gripped it in both. She lunged forward. Arei easily blocked. Yet, he slid backwards.

He wondered why the girl didn’t use just the sword from the beginning. Anise’s swordplay improved once she was just using the sword. Though it was nothing special, it was a stabler form than previous. Each strike carried more weight and there was less delay in transitions and response. However, was that enough? Certainly not.

Arei met each strike with force and pushed the girl back. The girl rolled and grabbed the dagger. That costed her time. Arei leapt forward and Anise was unable to properly block with her sword.

“Usha!” Anise called in her mind. Instantly her body was filled with power and she punched forward with that dagger in her hand.

The dagger exploded as it smashed into Arei’s blade. The impact did not shatter Arei’s blade but the man who was unprepared stumbled several feet from Anise. The girl quickly charged forward and swept at the unsteady man’s legs.

Arei hopped into the air. Anise sliced her blade upwards. Arei brought his own sword to meet it, and he ricocheted himself back. Then he charged and with one mighty swing of his sword, he knocked

Anise’s blade away.

“Sorry,” he smirked and placed his sword on the girl’s neck.

“That will be all, Arei. Go run along to your whores now.” Arei laughed from the dean’s words and went off on his merry way. Dean Fil turned to Anise.

“Did I fail?” The girl asked with a frown.

“You definitely lost,” the dean nodded. “But you lasted a good bout against Arei. Of course, he isn’t the best swordsman in the Academy — but he is second. And that something of yours seems special enough. But more importantly —” He stared intently at her eyes. “You were holding back. Of course, I don’t mean your swordplay — that was average at best. I meant, your killing intent.”

Anise bit her lips and looked away.

“I felt it. And Arei did too at some point. Girl, you have an excess bloodlust. You would have killed him if you were serious.” The dean found confirmation in Anise’s silence. “Of course, that is if he did not kill you in self-defense first. Anyhow, report to the Academy early in the morn tomorrow — we will have a dorm set up for you then.”

“I pass?” The girl asked with surprised wide-eyes.

Dean Fil rolled his eyes. “Barely. That something of yours couple with that excess bloodlust should produce some result worthy of bearing my Academy’s credentials. And, like I said, your swordplay isn’t too shabby. But remember, you barely qualified as being gifted — though that something and excess bloodlust seems to be a curse — so you better work. Besides, there are certain — let’s say occupations — that someone craving of blood can truly fulfill.”

At that the dean said no more and escorted Anise to the gates. Anise walked her way home and felt very tired.

“Hmph, ‘if he did not kill you in self-defense first’! We could have killed him easily if you had accepted all my power.” Usha exclaimed on the way home.

“That’s not the point, besides we got in.” Anise grumbled. “I think we would have definitely been rejected if I did kill him. And have a squad dispatched to kill us.”

“We can kill them too.”

"Do you even have enough power for that?"

"Hmph! Even at my weakest, if you take in all of my powers, you would implode from an overload."

Anise rolled her eyes. "Then why do I want to use all your powers?"

"Little girl, if you become strong enough, maybe you can enjoy the full extent of my power and stop being so useless! Hell! Maybe then you can get me back to full strength!"

The two bickered until Anise reached home. She told Bolverk the good news. Then they fabricated some lie about being employed as a governess to the rest of the household in order to preserve Mari’s sanity — what is left of it.

Author's Note: Well, Anise should be less of a whiny brat now (except maybe not, since that is her character : p). As always, thanks for reading.