My Last Wish is to XXXX Hot Guys! – Huh? No you’re not. You’re going to bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms!

The sun hadn’t risen when they set out the next morning. It’ll be a survey and retrieve mission. They got to figure out how many enemies are present, find the jade crest, and safely get out of Ryden.  

Her head’s still pulsating when they quietly slip out of the front gates before dawn breaks. The landscape outside is in utter chaos. But what she isn’t prepared to witness is the sheer immensity of Estelian corpses lying in puddles of boiling water, stained red. Blossoming across the fields like grotesque poppy patches. The air reeks of rot and molten flesh. A putrid gut-wrenching smell she can never get accustomed to. It shakes her wide sober. 

She is willing to acknowledge that she caused this because she picked a side. Yet she can’t stop her lips from trembling when she steps over the body of a teenage boy. He is no different from Ovid. A mere child forced into brutal conflict. A pawn in a cruel game he does not understand. She scrunches at her chest. It feels so uneased. Is this really, okay? Did she really do the right thing?  

Soril holds onto her wrist, giving her hand a little squeeze as he pulls her forward to pick up their pace, 

“It’s them or us. Don’t regret the lives you saved or the people you protected.” 

“I know... I’m not regretting it. I’m just processing it. It feels a lot different living through the consequences of my actions than just observing it from my well.”  

“It’ll get easier with time.”  

“I don’t think I can ever get used to it.” He says nothing. She forces herself to look at their faces. Remember the corpses as she meanders through the burning earth. Their skins have partially melted from the endless hot steam pouring out the crevices of the gigantic fissures. It scotches her when she brushes across.  

The forest is harder to navigate compared to when they came. The paths are buried beneath huge mud slides, trees grounded in the mix, huge roots, towering to the heavens. Twisted limbs, sticking out gruesomely like wayward branches. A stray nail scratches her shin as she passes. The finger snaps from decay. The animals she once saw are gone. It really is difficult to stomach. She feels like gagging. But she steels her heart. Repeats to herself. Don’t waver now. Don’t waver now. The only thing she can do is offer her prayers. The only solace she can provide is to stop this war once and for all. Don’t waver. 

But she’s only able to shake her mind clear when they’re a half day’s journey in and the surroundings are untouched by her destruction. Now the sun is hanging tall in the late afternoons. With nothing to consistently remind her of her sins, she can focus on their goals. Changing her perspective, at least this means Estelis can’t attack again until the land has settled. Kanra will be safe for now. They’ll have some time to plan things out. 

But just before she’s able to start, Soril abruptly drags her behind a tree. Whispering,  

“Do you hear that?”  

She concentrates. It sounds like embers crackling. Directly north. She nods, peeking over the bark. She could see just a hint of blue peeking out from the forage. An Estelian encampment. A large one at that too from the radius. She guesses, probably a retreating unit. This probably means there’ll be others in the vicinity. Soril’s gesturing her to go around. It wouldn’t be good if they alerted them this early into the journey. The last thing they want is for word spread that there’re incoming infiltrators and Estelis strengthens their security.  

They’re keeping themselves low as they approach. Careful of any twigs and leaves in the soil. But... it’s strange. Unnerving in a different sense. It’s deathly silent otherwise. There isn’t a single patrol soldier in sight. No chatter. No noise. What’s going on? Did they already spot them beforehand and they’re hiding in the bushes awaiting ambush? The closer they get, the heavier this unsettling dread crawls down her spine. She feels goosebumps on her nape. No... it’s something else.  

Something much creepier.  

She smells blood in the air. Fresher. Increasingly intense. She’s finally near enough to spot an unmoving arm streaked burgundy portruding from beneath a tent. Cautiously, Soril stands up. There’s a disturbed look on his face as he examines the scene. She follows shortly after. It’s like she thought.  

Everyone’s already dead here. At least fifty men. The corpses are horribly mangled. Brutal. Like a butcher’s chopping board. At a glance, it almost resembles Soril’s work. But it isn’t nearly as neat. The edges are jagged. Made from a much larger, bulkier weapon. But what’s weirder is that... from the footsteps. It doesn’t look like there was even a scuffle. They’re trying to get away. A one-sided slaughter. Who could’ve possibly frightened so many armed men with such little resistance? But Soril’s walking forward. She hastily runs after him,  

“Is this done by someone you know?” he merely shrugs,  

“There isn’t anyone else in Astia that kills like that. Maybe the royals contracted someone from the outside. Guess I’ll hear from the Crown Prince in two fortnights if they did.”  

Huh. Strange. Did Estelis make other enemies then? 

They stumble upon a few more encampments enroute. Each of them, in similar states. The perpetuator was picking them off, one by one, so quickly that none of the others are even alerted of the encroaching danger before it’s too late. Even the one escaped squire that’s sent on his way to send word, has been massacred mercilessly. His lonesome corpse, discovered impaled against a sharp branch. Tossed by a violent force. 

They’re being consciously hunted down. 

Night is falling when they stop at yet another campsite on the halfway point they reached. Soril’s bending down to pick up a metal plate from one of the corpses, he rubs the silver paint off to reveal its bright golden color inside, 

“This is Godorian steel.” His face looks familiar. In fact, all the bodies here she recognizes. They’re the Estelian double agents. The Elite unit especially trained to assassinate Soril. Except, now they’re cleanly cut to pieces. This means,  

“The weapon this assailant used is even tougher than that?”  

“They could just be leagues stronger. Whoever done it have my speed, and Judas’s strength.” he flips the metal shard on its slide to show her, the edges resemble smashed glass,  

“Slicing through these require lots of build up momentum.” 

"Why do you seem so impressed?”  

“I am impressed.” he shrugs dragging a few corpses away from a bloodied tent. Carelessly sweeping a severed head off a stool, before snapping the woody legs to collect in a pile,  

“Godorian armor hard counters me. But this person has just turned the tide for us without needing me to even do anything. Feels like a lucky break.” it’s getting late, does he intend to camp here? 

“What if they’re our enemy too? It won’t be safe to stay.” 

“That’s precisely why we should stay. They won’t come back.” 

“How do you know?”  

“If I were sent on a mission to clean up retreating enemy stragglers. I’ll neatly go from camp to camp from downstream to up. The enemies won’t be escaping backwards into unsafe territories even if they are eventually alerted to my presence. Instincts will have them run to where their main base is to find comfort in larger numbers.” he’s poking the charcoal with a stick, getting the fire going before scavenging for a pot in one of the tents to plop it on top, finishing the sentence afterwards, 

“Soldiers without a commander are no different from scattered sheep without a shepherd. These soldiers have been dead for a day. I won’t waste time double checking somewhere I’ve finished my business. I’ll pursue forward.” 

“Okay, Mister edgy serial killer.”  

“Takes one to know one.” 

“That’s not a compliment.”  

“Is it not? Killers are the only sane ones in a war.” Is he being sarcastic? She can’t tell. He’s still wearing that same deadpanned expression as he plops a few potatoes in before closing the lid. Probably took those from the Estelians too. She stops pondering over it.  

She focuses on the surroundings instead. It’s awful and grisly. A limb here, a torso there. Some brain splattered all over a rock. Intestines dangling off a branch. Even if they are enemies. If they’re going to stay here for the night, leaving their desecrated bodies out in the open just doesn’t sit right with her. She’s picking a sword up from the ground. Making her way to softer soils and begins shoveling,  

“I should bury them.” she says. 

“Don’t bother. They won’t bury your body if you were killed.”  

“It’s not like I have anything better to do than sit around and wait for potatoes to cook.” she turns her attention back to her task, ignoring his toneless mockery of,  

“You’re stupid.” in the background. But it surprises her when he joins by her side a few moments later, helping her out with another sword that he’s picked up,  

“I thought you said I’m stupid.” but he isn’t looking at her as he works, muttering beneath his breath with the slightest tinge of reluctance, 

“I feel like being stupid too.” and she can’t help but giggle.