Lament of the Lost

"Not much of a loss, is it?" the woman, the herald of death, remarked, not hiding her disgust at the sight of us.

If I were back home, on Earth, unrestrained by orders to keep my mouth shut, I would throw her mismatched shoelaces back in her face - so to speak. But I wasn't there, nor was I free, so I just stood quietly, my heart warming with hope.

"Not much of a loss, ma'am? No. No, no, no, no. You have no idea. This would set my research back weeks - months, even."

"Either that, or we cut off our tail - if you know what I mean?"

It wasn't hard to imagine the blood draining from the asshole's otherwise pale face. The tables had turned and now he faced the same plight he himself was putting us through almost every single day. I couldn't remember, nor did I want to, how many of the poor souls, or the lucky ones as we used to think of them, who hadn't survived his vile concoctions, I had helped dispose of in the storm drains running under the cellar.

"I . . . I do, ma'am," our deranged master stammered, gnashing his teeth. "How much time do I have? The research upstairs . . . it'll take me at least . . . "

"There's no need to rush. If we were pressed for time, I would not be standing here with you discussing your failures. Think of it as - a precaution."

"I see . . . then do you think there might even be time for a few experiments?"

‘NO!’

If it weren't for the damn skill and the collar around my neck holding me in place, I would have slumped to the ground, trembling in despair. Instead, I stood there like an animal on parade, arms down along my body, wings spread, tail wagging, just as our deranged master had commanded, all the while the prospect of more pain loomed over me like the scythe of death I so desperately wished would already take my head off. 

‘Please, just say no.'

"Sure."

'Noooo . . . you . . . you bitch!'

 "What do you have in mind?" the woman, this - this shoelace bitch, asked, her eyes boring into me. "I sincerely hope your potions can do more than turn a human into . . . this."

"Oh, they can, I assure you. But I had something other than a potion planned for this one. What would you say to seeing her with . . . a Beast Core?"

"To put one in her? Just a waste of resources, mind you, we provided."

“W-well, it’s . . . ”

". . . but you have my attention, Dungreen. Seeing her writhing in pain while her body eats itself might lift my mood . . . actually, I can't wait to see it.”

‘Lift her mood? Screw you, you . . . you twisted BITCH! Go and shove that damn core up your ass!’

Whatever it was, that . . . that damn Beast Core, it didn't sound any different to me than his vile concoctions. Just another thing to wreak havoc on my body, inflicting more pain and likely robbing me of another chunk of my humanity.

“Oh, and imagine if she were to accept the core - wouldn't that practically make her a beast? My young one would love to train a pet like her."

' . . . what?! A pet?! Me? That bitch couldn't be serious, could she?'

"Is it, yes . . . ma'am?"

“Tsk, weren't you listening, yes, let’s go with it.”

"Excellent. YOU! Out. We have work to do."

The keys rattled in the lock of my cell, and my feet moved. The [Master's Lover], the nastiest skill - or weave as they call it here - of my [Slave] Array forced upon me by the asshole, as well as the slave collar, were doing their accursed work. 

'NO! No, I won't - go!'

Tasting the blood from my bitten lip, I resisted the pull, screaming my mind out. If they thought I would put myself through the torture for their enjoyment without a fight, they were damn wrong.

"What . . . is this?!" the deranged asshole yelled when I got no further than the cell door. "I said get out, cunt!"

His methodical voice rattled in my head like the sharpest whip and the sweetest melody at the same time, urging me to heed his command. It was so tempting. The easy way out. All I had to do was move. 

And I did.

But once my leg moved, and the crippling headache clouding my sight eased for a brief moment, it gave me a chance to get my shit together. 

"You dare?! Maybe I should give one of the males the Stud Potion and let them have a round with you, cunt. Get OUT!"

"A what?" the shoelace bitch asked, unfazed by my desperate defiance. "Care to tell me more about this - potion, Dungreen?"

"Um . . . you see . . . one of my side projects, nothing of importance, ma'am." 

"Are you sure? Perhaps I should peek into your mind and see for myself what exactly you are using the supplies we have provided you with. Tell me you weren't stupid enough to contact someone in town?"

"No, ma'am. I . . . I only used leftovers, nothing that would limit the research . . . and in my spare time . . . to clear my head."

"Oh, that's something I could help you with. Just say the word, and I will wipe it clean like it never was."

The woman's chuckle was so unnerving that my resistance slipped and I took another step. A mistake, a colossal mistake. While my eyes were still fixed on their footwear, hidden as it was behind the haze of a crippling headache, theirs turned back to me.

"You're out of the cell, huh? Finally, follow me!"

Much to the asshole's infuriation, I didn't move one bit, hunkering down in my refusal to follow his orders. A painful effort that the World Rune Lattice, or World Lattice for short, but basically some sort of magical System, saw fit to reward. The tingling in my skull, on the brain side, was unmistakable. The Lattice notification, the way the runes binding every creature on this planet communicated. Whatever it had on its calculating runic mind, it engraved directly into your grey matter.

• 105th glyph engraved on Indomitable Will (⦿⦿⦿⦿)

Of course. The [Indomitable Will] was the skill solely responsible for my ability to stand up to the asshole's orders - also, for not going nuts in all that time. For over a year and a half, trapped in this nightmare, cut off from my family, my world - yeah, our so-called master knew very well why he let his slaves have this skill, for all the trouble it brought to his deranged life.

"I said, FOLLOW ME!"

'And I - said NO!'

"All right, as pathetically funny as this is, I don't have all day. Need some help? An array-less Slave is a cinch for me."

My ears twitched at the gnashing of the asshole's teeth. 

"If you would be so . . . kind . . . please, ma'am."

Before I knew it, without so much as a warning, along with the mechanical grip of the slave collar and the calculating embrace of the Lattice, something new touched my mind, something organic, something . . . living. If I didn't know better, I'd swear the shoelace bitch had her hand inside my skull, her fingers probing my brain, looking for a crack in my defenses.

'GET OUT OF MY HEAD!' I screamed at the unnerving fingers, which paid less regard to my brain than the runes of a slave collar.

"That - won't - do."

Huh? What was that? Did some goddess finally take pity on me and decide to hear me out? If so, why did her voice sound so unnervingly familiar? 

"Impressive defenses - I might say. Ah, there . . . "

Before I could shake off the shock of having another voice in my head, the shoelace bitch's fingers brute forced their way through my defenses and dug into my mind. What followed was something I knew all too well. The horror of being forced to watch your body do things out of my control.

"Shall we?" the shoelace bitch asked casually while I struggled with the consequences of losing the biggest battle of my life. Shivers racked my body, my ears rang, and warm blood trickled down my nose. 

Quite a lot of it, actually.