The Uninvited Guest

Leonardo stood in the center of the room, his eyes lingering on the intricate shapes Adelaide had carved into the walls. Each pyramid was etched with fervor, the pattern obsessive in its detail.

"How did you get Phase Ignition?" he asked, voice low but insistent. He wasn't sure if he was speaking as an investigator or a reluctant confidant. She was a riddle wrapped in a labyrinth.

Adelaide's eyes flicked up briefly, then returned to her work, as if the question barely warranted her attention.

"Killing someone," she said flatly, then paused. "No—not just killing. I threatened him. Told him to hand it over or I'd end him. He gave it to me... and I killed him anyway, a nasty refined he was." A brittle laugh escaped her lips, empty of joy. "So, yeah—still killing."

Leonardo felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Why kill someone just for a skill?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

She turned to him, gaze sharp. "Why do you carry a sword, then?"

"It's blunt," he murmured, almost ashamed, the weight of his own justifications pressing against him.

Before he could react, Adelaide was on her feet, yanking the weapon from his side with startling strength. She examined it, fingers tracing the etched blade.

"You've already merged it with your skill?" she said, eyes narrowing. "You're using Ascendant, aren't you?"

Leonardo stiffened. "No, I—"

"Yes, you are," she cut him off, handing the sword back. Then, without another word, she turned back to her wall of pyramids, her focus unshakable.

"Artifacts are kind of like that too," Adelaide said absently.

"Artifacts?"

"Yeah!" Adelaide replied, smiling, radiating a warmth that surprisingly made Leonardo's heart brittle with ease. "Your outfit's also an artifact. I saw the way it swarmed around your body. Anyway, my sword's called Heat-Bearer. It was made by a flamesmith." Adelaide began, then just stopped, not continuing.

"Oh, are there different types of artifacts?" Leonardo asked, intrigued. He touched his attire. Artifacts are probably just enhanced objects; I might know what this does. He then tilted his head. If she doesn't answer, I should just ask next.

"Oh, there are three," Adelaide said, tapping her chin. "Like my sword, Heat-Bearer? Made by a flamesmith. It's a Fixed-Function. One job, perfectly—it attacks with heat, nothing else. Doesn't care if you're fighting in a blizzard or a library." She shrugged. "It's useful. Predictable. But boring."

Leonardo's eyes flicked to his own attire—fabric shifting. "And… this?"

"Context-Locked," Adelaide grinned. "Changes with the where and when. I mean that's what I think it does; most armor-based artifacts are context-locked."

She leaned closer, voice dropping. "Then there's Resonant. Rare. Like…" Her finger brushed his sleeve. "It makes you stronger based on your attachment skill. Faster. Like a second heartbeat tuned to yours." Adelaide's smile didn't reach her eyes now. -

"But souls change. Skills evolve. What happens when your Story Skill shifts?" Her smile faded slightly. "If your path twists? It shatters. Poof. Ash." She snapped her fingers.

"Or…" Her voice dropped. "...it tries to hold on. Sinks its hooks deeper. Fuses to your core. Ever seen a knight whose armor grew scales? Or a mage whose staff burned through their palm?" She met his gaze. "That's not power anymore. That's a cage."

Adelaide winked. "See? Not just things. They're… conversations."

He watched her, bewildered. She was relentless—obsessive. Her hands trembled with each stroke; her breathing was ragged.

"Aren't you getting tired?" he asked. Elara could only use her attachment skill a few times before exhaustion set in. Surely Adelaide couldn't keep this up forever.

"Tired?" she echoed, not looking up. "Of course I'm tired. But I need to finish the pyramids. Otherwise, I don't think I'll sleep."

"Why did you kill, then?" Leonardo pressed, trying to understand. "Was it the rain? The acidic fog? The soil? The men?"

Adelaide's eyes flicked to her sword, her expression distant.

"The battlefield during the last cycle was a blur of screams and steel," she said quietly. "I wanted to feel powerful—to own something no one could take away."

"Killing doesn't bring you closer to your goals," Leonardo said gently. "It just pulls you further away."

"My goals?" she echoed, as if the concept puzzled her. "Right. My goal was to be with my family." Her voice softened. For a fleeting moment, Leonardo saw a glimpse of the woman behind the madness.

He hesitated, then took a breath.

"Your husband is still alive."

Adelaide blinked. "Yes?" she said, expression unreadable.

"Your husband—"

"Leonardo," she interrupted, her tone shifting. Cold and unyielding, her eyes locked onto his. "Do you know why I hate people? It's not the wars, or the blood. It's the lies. The petty deceptions they use to justify everything."

Leonardo opened his mouth, but she didn't stop.

"You think humans are good? Look at me. People talk about forgiveness, but they hold grudges like blades, ready to cut deeper. They justify betrayal and selfishness, and call it survival. I see the rare flickers of good—but if you think humanity is pure, you're lying to yourself."

She turned fully to him, eyes dark and hollow—like the deepest caverns of Volnia. Leonardo recognized that look. He'd seen it before.

"Adelaide, I—"

She wasn't listening.

Where have I seen that look before? The thought surfaced, unbidden.

"And you've just given me another reason to hate you," she whispered. Her voice was low, nearly lost beneath the sound of her carving. "A new record—less than a day of knowing you."

"What?" Leonardo asked, stunned.

"I'm going to kill you," she said suddenly.

She stood in one fluid motion. Her hands flared red, Rasvian energy crackling around her fingertips.

A blast of heat slammed into Leonardo's chest. He staggered back, clutching at his shirt as the burn spread across his skin.

The room spun. Shapes twisted in his vision as pain seared through him. He tried to stay upright, but Adelaide was already advancing—slow and deliberate.

"This isn't about you," she said, almost gently. "It's about everything you represent."

The red light in her hands surged, aiming for his head.

"Adelaide—" Leonardo gasped, the word torn from his lips.