Chapter 13
Under the trees in the cold night, Rava looked down from the branches at her new master. When she was pulled from the void, she expected to be bound to a useless, lecherous man. Instead, she got this little sorry thing. But the madness within her was undeniable, the potential. Looking at her was like looking at the most delicious blood in a glass chalice of innocence. Occasionally it spilled over, but what she truly wanted was to completely shatter that chalice. Tomorrow's mission would be important to achieve her goals.
Layla, now at the outskirts of Gizani, the city of bad guys, gazed at the small, shadowy settlement.
"Why are you looking like we don't know why we're here?" Rava's voice was a low purr beside her.
"Do we really have to?" Layla whispered, a tremor in her voice.
"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet, now?" Rava moved closer, her gaze fixed on her naive master. Her lips curved into a slow, unsettling smile, then she subtly shifted her attention to another direction. Layla followed her line of sight, and what she saw stunned her.
A dilapidated jeep was pulling a group, mostly women and children, with all the men somehow injured. They were surrounded by armed men, their faces grim in the dim light. The jeep lurched forward, dragging its human cargo further into the heart of Gizani.
It didn't take a genius to know that all these people were just taken. Soldiers wouldn't come this far into the country, so their fates weren't hard to guess.
"Oh, look at that small girl," Rava purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "She looks so beautiful. So cute, like you, innocent. Those brutes will probably sell her off to the highest bidder, don't you think? If only there were someone willing to save her."
Layla was visibly wavering. Even if she wanted to, could she take all these men on? The thought alone was daunting.
"There are twelve men," Rava continued, her gaze fixed on the scene. "About five of them have guns, of questionable capabilities." She paused, a glint in her eyes. "I can't see into the truck, though. So you probably should take the truck out first."
"How am I supposed to take out the truck?" Layla hissed, her voice tight with desperation.
Rava let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Oh, my sweet, naive little master. It's truly pathetic how little you understand your own power. You merely need to activate your soul mark. Unleash the effects of madness that binds us. Let it tear through you. It's a simple flick of a switch, darling. Or perhaps you enjoy watching these unfortunates suffer?"
A flicker of something dark ignited in Layla's eyes, a shift so subtle Rava almost missed it. Then, a wave of raw energy surged from Layla, chilling the air around them. Rava's eyes widened, a genuine surprise flickering across her ethereal face. Layla had done it.
With a primal scream that was more beast than human, Layla launched herself forward. The goblin sword, a blur of ancient iron, shot from her hand. It tore through the rusted side of the jeep's cab with sickening ease, punching through metal and flesh. The driver spasmed once, his head slamming against the steering wheel as the truck veered sharply. The front passenger gurgled, a red spray blossoming on the shattered windshield as the sword continued its deadly trajectory, pinning him to the seat. The jeep, now driverless, swerved wildly, then slammed into a discarded pile of rubble, grinding to a halt.
Chaos erupted among the armed men. Shouts, curses, and the clatter of dropped weapons filled the air. Layla was already among them, a whirlwind of furious motion. She disarmed the nearest bandit with a brutal shove, snatching his machete from his trembling hand before he even registered her presence. The blade sang as it arced through the night, a flash of silver followed by a wet thud. The bandit, his eyes wide with disbelief, crumpled to the ground, his own weapon now a part of his demise.
The other men, momentarily stunned, fumbled with their ancient firearms. One managed to raise his gun, but Layla was faster. She ducked under a wild swing from another, the machete a deadly extension of her will. She didn't just parry; she carved. A sharp slice across one man's wrist, the gun clattering uselessly. A brutal, upward strike to another's throat, silencing his scream before it fully formed. The two men with guns, their faces contorted in fear, managed to fire off a few wild shots, but the bullets went wide, tearing harmlessly into the dark night.
The madness that fueled her was a roaring inferno, sharpening her senses, dulling her pain, and erasing all hesitation. She moved with impossible speed, a blur of rage and precision. A swift kick to a knee, an arm twisted into an unnatural angle, the glint of the machete reflecting the faint moonlight as it found its mark again and again. The captured women and children in the back of the jeep huddled together, whimpering, their eyes wide with terror, not knowing whether to fear the men who had captured them or this new, terrifying force that now tore through their captors. They pressed themselves against each other, trying to become invisible, the sounds of the brutal, one-sided slaughter echoing in their ears.
Within moments, the remaining ten men lay broken and still, their bodies contorted into grotesque shapes on the dusty ground. The air, thick with the metallic scent of blood, was suddenly silent, save for the ragged breathing of Layla and the muffled sobs from the back of the truck.
Layla, her chest heaving, slowly turned from the carnage. The red haze in her eyes began to recede, leaving behind a cold, unsettling clarity. She walked towards the crumpled jeep, her footsteps crunching on loose gravel. Reaching the back, she peered inside the dark interior, where she saw a lone, terrified man huddled amongst the freed captives, desperately trying to make himself small.