Awakening of the Weakest Slayer

Sezel exhaled sharply and his body gave out, his legs collapsing as he fell to his knees. The wound in his shoulder wasn't just pain, it was burning as if it had been infected by some acid, or poison.

'Shit, this thing stings.' He cursed internally, his hand fumbling to pull away the tattered remains of his jacket. He looked at the injury, and his heart hammered against his ribs. The area where the beast's teeth had torn into him was already turning a deep, sickly purple. Five jagged rents in his flesh, so deep he could clearly see the glint of his own bone beneath.

Sezel didn't wait after seeing that, it was certainly poison, he immediately rushed to the dead body of the beast and put his hands on it to absorb its core. As the familiar, ethereal light flowed into him, the beast's body dissolved into nothingness. He immediately checked the wound again.

The torn flesh had begun to knit itself back together, but there was still some pain left, he tried moving his shoulder, it was a little stiff and painful, 'Guess a common beast's core only does that much.' he sighed, a bitter wave of disappointment washing over him. He was healed, but not whole.

He almost wished for another weak beast to appear, another source of life force to complete the mending. But he immediately crushed the thought, not after what happened just now. Fighting half-blinded, with your only source of light being the moonlight was not ideal at all.

Sezel picked up his katana and silently made his way to the upper floor. The others had already searched most of it. It was a clothing section, its racks now filled with ruined, moth-eaten garments that smelled of dust and damp decay.

Vesta, however, had found some clothes for Mari that had been sealed in plastic, miraculously preserved. She no longer had to swim in the oversized jacket, and she seemed genuinely happy as she showed off her new outfit to Sezel — a white overcoat and jeans. Looking like an adorable little doll.

There were a few outfits for men as well. Sezel chose to change out of his own blood-soaked rags, opting for a finely woven white shirt and a pair of simple black pants. He caught his reflection in a shard of broken mirror and was startled by the image. The clothes hung on his gaunt frame, making him look like a ghost trying to imitate the living. If he were a little healthier, he might have looked like one of the gentlemen from the old world.

They spent the latter half of the night inside the mall, taking turns for keeping watch. There were occasional activities of something stirring on the ground floor, but luckily none of the beasts came for inspecting the first floor.

Soon the incarnate rays of the sunlight illuminated the whole mall in a pristine light, there was not a corner left untouched. Sunlight entered from all directions, through the broken glass windows, and got reflected further by the broken glass pieces. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams, and the long, deep shadows of the night began to recede.

Sezel hadn't really slept. He couldn't. A full day had passed since he had entered the Spirit Realm, and instead of finding answers, he had only accumulated more questions.

He sat up, stretching his stiff, aching body. Across the wide, open space, Vesta was sitting alone by one of the shattered windows, her silhouette a stark, elegant shape against the morning sun. In the sunlight and the sweet breeze, her silken hair looked even more cultivated, as if they were shimmering.

Sezel found he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was a creature of impossible grace and power, when suddenly she turned around as if sensing that someone was watching her. For a long, breathless moment, they were locked in a silent exchange. A faint hue of red crept up Sezel's cheeks, and he quickly looked away, a strange, unfamiliar heat flushing his skin.

'Wh...Why is she looking at me like that?' he couldn't deny it, he had clearly seen a smile on her face, he slowly turned back around, indeed it was true. She was smiling, looking towards him.

Sezel mustered what little courage he had and stood, his steps slightly wobbly as he walked over to her. He sat down beside her, a respectable distance between them, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the rhythmic, whispering tune of the breeze flowing through the overgrown wilderness outside.

"Ahem," Sezel cleared his throat, "What rank are you, Vesta?" he initiated, deciding that a direct question was the only way to break the heavy silence. "If you don't mind me asking."

Her gaze flickered towards him for a second before turning back towards the open sky. She lingered for a moment, "I am a Rank-5," she finally said, her voice a calm, simple statement of fact.

Sezel just narrowed his eyes slightly. He had suspected as much after her performance last night, but the confirmation still sent a jolt through him. But there were more questions that brewed. Why wasn't he told about her when they showed the names of all the Rank-5 Slayers in the world, at the facility?

"I know what you are thinking," she said, her voice soft, as if she could read his mind. "My presence here is a secret."

The words came as a shock 'A secret, yet she is telling me?' It wasn't quite certified. Was this a bait? Why would she, a secret Rank-5, confide in him, a stranger she had met just hours ago?

"I told you because you're the same, right?" she insisted, her words pulling him from his spiraling thoughts.

He was dazed, staring at her face, her sincerity both confusing and terrifying. 'Is she serious?' She had to be assuming, guessing. How could she possibly know? But a sliver of doubt, cold and sharp, pierced his composure. Could she see his Fable?

"Why do you think so?" he asked, his voice a mixture of genuine curiosity and one part terror.

"Are you really a Rank-3?" Vesta asked, turning to face him fully, her ruby eyes locking onto his, seeming to pierce through every lie. He froze, not having any answer to that question. "I am sure you are not," she continued, her voice gentle but relentless. "And I was certain of it when I saw that thing last night." She gestured vaguely, a silent reference to his spectral puppet.

Sezel had no answer. He remained silent, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"A man who lies to others will eventually lie to himself," she said, her words were like shards of ice. "And when he starts believing his own lies, there will be no line left between truth and falsehood. He will slowly, inevitably, lose himself."

The line hit Sezel harder than any physical blow.