Free Web NovelSeveral days passed.
"You're aiming too late."
The voice gritted her teeth.
Then came the golems, which were heavy and slow. Enormous, made of dark stone, with red cores in their chests and arms capable of shattering the ground with every blow.
BOOM!
The first time one struck close to her, the impact lifted her off the ground and sent her rolling several meters.
"That was cheating!"
The golems taught her something else.
Not every enemy was dodged the same way.
Against demons, she had to read routes.
Against golems, she had to read weight.
Matt explained it in a calm tone:
"When it raises its arm, don't look at the fist."
"Then what do I look at?"
"The feet."
"Why?"
"Because if it can't shift its weight, it can't change the strike."
The voice looked at the golem's feet.
The arm came down and she dodged by very little.
BOOOOM!
The earth exploded behind her.
"Ah!"
"Better."
"It almost crushed me!"
She learned to use the heavy gun against them.
Not to shoot wildly.
Not to try to break them head-on.
But to open cracks in their legs, force them to kneel, and expose the core.
Then came the flying stones, which the voice despised. Small, floating rocks covered in red runes that moved erratically and fired beams.
ZAAAP!
"Damn it!"
The beam passed right beside her ear.
Matt spoke:
"Don't curse. Move."
"I can do both!"
"Then do them properly."
The stones had no face.
No wings.
No muscles.
No breathing.
No clear signals.
They just floated, stopped, and spun before firing.
The voice missed more against them than against the demons, and that infuriated her.
"Their pattern makes no sense!"
"The runes glow slightly brighter just before they fire."
Then came the serpent. The same kind of serpent that had given Matt so much trouble in an earlier room.
The serpent was large, long, covered in black scales, with red eyes. Its movements didn't follow any normal line. It slithered along the ground. Then through the air. Then under the grass as if the earth were water.
The first time it appeared, the voice immediately stepped back.
"No."
Matt raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
"I don't want to fight that."
"That's too bad."
The serpent lunged.
The voice screamed.
"Matt!"
The serpent grabbed her by the leg and dragged her several meters before she managed to fire at it.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Missed two.
The third hit its jaw.
It let go.
But the serpent dove back under the grass.
The voice was left gasping, hands trembling.
"That's horrible."
"Yes."
"You faced that thing?"
"Yes."
"And you survived?"
"I'm here."
The voice looked at the ground.
"That's not a reassuring answer."
The serpent taught her not to trust the ground.
To listen.
To feel vibrations.
To not only look at what was in front of her.
And above all, not to stay still when she couldn't see the enemy.
Days passed like that.
Demons.
Golems.
Stones.
Serpents.
Demons again.
Golems again.
Combinations.
Two golems and demons.
Stones firing while she dodged serpents.
Demons forcing her to look up while the ground trembled under her feet.
The voice fell many times.
Yelled many times.
Got angry many times.
But she stopped giving up so quickly.
That was the first thing Matt noticed.
He didn't say it.
Of course he didn't.
But he noticed.
The voice was clumsy.
Yes.
Inexperienced.
Very much so.
She got nervous when something overwhelmed her.
Sometimes she asked obvious questions.
But she listened.
That was the strange part.
Iris never listened like that.
Iris would have pretended she already knew everything.
Would have kept a cold face.
Would have said something arrogant.
Would have failed and then blamed the weapon, the enemy, the ground, or anything that wasn't herself.
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The voice didn't.
The voice got frustrated.
Got scared.
Got embarrassed.
Asked questions.
Tried again.
Failed.
Thought.
And when Matt told her something useful, even in the most insufferable way possible, she applied it.
Not always well.
But she tried.
That was dangerous, because it meant she could improve fast.
And she was.
Matt watched her take down three demons in a row one afternoon.
Well, it wasn't a real afternoon.
There was no real sun.
But the fake sky had afternoon light because he had decided it should.
Three demons descended in formation.
The voice didn't fire at the first.
Nor at the second.
She aimed at the third.
The one closing off the escape route.
Bang!
The shot went through a wing and the demon fell. The second one lost space to turn.
The voice switched weapons.
The heavy gun blazed.
BAANG!
The explosion split it into black shadows.
The first one tried to correct course.
Too late.
The voice was already aiming.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots.
One to the chest, one to the head.
The demon dissolved in the air.
The voice landed on the grass, breathing hard, her hands still tense but not trembling as much.
Matt watched her from the chair.
He said nothing.
The voice turned toward him, still expecting a correction.
"What did I do wrong?"
Matt rested his cheek in his hand.
"Your attitude still needs work."
The voice lowered her shoulders.
"Right…"
"But you're much better than before."
She blinked in confusion and Matt looked away.
The voice stared at him, then smiled just barely.
Not like Iris.
Not with elegant pride.
Not like a princess who had just received a tribute.
It was a small, tired, relieved smile. As if those awkward words were more than she had expected to receive.
Matt felt something strange in his chest.
An irritation.
Not physical.
Not exactly.
'What a pain.'
He was proud.
A little.
Very little.
He obviously wasn't going to say it. He'd rather fight the eight-armed skeleton again before saying something that uncomfortable out loud.
But he was proud.
And that bothered him — but it also worried him, because every day that passed, she looked less like a simple parasitic voice.
Less like an incomplete copy.
And above all… less like Iris.
◇◆◇
The voice landed on her feet after dodging a beam.
The field was destroyed.
Well, destroyed until Matt decided to fix it.
There were craters everywhere. Black marks on the grass. Pieces of floating stone dissolved into smoke. Golem remains sinking into the earth. Demon shadows slowly fading.
The voice was breathing hard. She had a cut on her cheek, a burn on her arm, and a dark mark on her side. But she was smiling — not much, just a little.
In front of her, one of the flying stones spun in place, trying to charge another beam.
The voice raised the light gun.
She didn't aim directly at it.
She aimed a little higher.
The stone rose, just as Matt had said it would.
Bang!
The shot broke the central rune.
CRACK!
The stone fell to the ground.
THUD!
Silence.
For the first time in a long while, no other enemy appeared.
The voice kept her aim for a few seconds.
She waited.
Looked at the sky.
Both sides.
The ground.
Nothing.
She frowned.
"Matt?"
Matt was sitting in his chair, as always, but this time he wasn't reclined. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
The voice slowly lowered the guns.
"Did something happen?"
"No."
"Then why did it stop?"
Matt stood up.
The voice went still.
Not because standing was impressive, but after several days of watching him sit in that chair as if he were part of the landscape, seeing him get up felt strange.
Almost ominous.
Matt stretched his neck, then his shoulders.
"You've warmed up."
The voice blinked.
"I've warmed up?"
"Yes." frёeweɓηovel.coɱ
She looked at the crater-filled field. Then at the monster shadows dissolving.
"All that was warming up?"
"More or less."
The voice went quiet. Then tightened her grip on the guns.
"Are you going to summon the impossible cave enemy?"
Matt looked at her, then let out a small laugh.
"No."
The voice didn't relax.
"Then?"
"For now I'm not going to make you fight that skeleton."
"For now…" she repeated, in a very unconvinced voice.
Matt raised a hand and a black sword appeared between his fingers.
Not from anywhere in particular.
It just appeared.
Long.
Dark.
Smooth.
No unnecessary ornaments.
The blade seemed to absorb part of the field's light.
The voice swallowed.
"What is that?"
"A sword."
"I can see that."
Matt held it naturally.
Too naturally.
"From now on, you need to learn something else."
The voice raised her guard.
"What?"
Matt looked her in the eyes.
"How to fight Iris."
The voice went still.
The wind moved the grass between them.
For a few seconds, that was all that could be heard.
"Iris…" she repeated.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Matt tilted his head slightly.
"Do you really need to ask that?"
The voice didn't respond.
Matt took a step forward.
"If you're going to stay with the queen, sooner or later you'll have to deal with Iris."
The voice gripped the guns.
"I know that."
"No. You don't know it enough."
The voice frowned.
Matt continued:
"Iris isn't like those demons. She's not like a golem. She's not like a stone that fires beams."
"You don't need to tell me that."
"Yes I do."
The voice lowered the guns slightly. Matt studied her with an expression that was hard to read.
"What have you been watching in my mind all this time that you still don't know?"
The voice tensed.
"I saw things."
"What things?"
"Memories."
"That doesn't answer the question."
The voice looked down.
"Seeing memories isn't like consuming them all at once."
Matt said nothing.
She breathed slowly.
"It takes time. A lot. Sometimes they're clear, sometimes not. Sometimes it's like being inside them, but other times they're just fragments. Voices, images, sensations…"
Matt looked at her in silence.
The voice tightened her fingers on the guns.
"And besides…"
She stopped.
Matt narrowed his eyes.
"Besides?"
The voice didn't respond.
Her expression changed.
Not much.
But Matt noticed.
Nerves.
Embarrassment.
Something close to fear.
"What?"
"It's nothing."
"Right."
"Really."
"You're getting nervous."
"No."
"Yes."
The voice clicked her tongue.
"I'm just saying I couldn't always concentrate on the memories."
"Why?"
She pressed her lips together.
Matt looked at her. Then smiled just barely.
"Because I was in the middle of a fight?"
The voice went quiet.
Matt's smile became a little clearer.
"Were you afraid I'd die?"
The voice's eyes went wide.
"No."
Matt raised an eyebrow.
The voice looked away.
"Well…"
"Ah."
"Don't make that sound!"
"What sound?"
"That one."
"Ah."
"Matt!"
He didn't move.
The voice swallowed. Then spoke quickly, as if she needed to justify it before he drew the wrong conclusion.
"Yes, I was scared. Happy now? But it wasn't because of you."
Matt looked at her.
"No."
"It wasn't because of you," she repeated, louder.
"Right."
"It was because if you died, I would die too."
"Of course."
"And because back then you were ignoring me almost the entire time."
"Also."
"And because you were always exhausted."
The voice took a step toward him without realizing it.
Her voice grew more intense.
"You were hurt, you weren't sleeping properly, you kept fighting, you kept pushing forward, you kept using blood even though you hated doing it, and every time you thought about something, it felt like part of you wanted to give up."
Matt went still.
The voice was breathing faster.
"I was paying attention because I didn't know when you were going to fall. I didn't know if you were going to stop moving. I didn't know if I'd have to take control to keep us from being killed."
Her fingers trembled slightly.
"And it happened."
Matt said nothing.
The voice looked down.
"When you launched that attack against the skeleton… when you lost consciousness… if I hadn't taken control, we'd both be dead."
The field went quiet.
Matt looked at her.
There was no mockery in his face.
No anger either.
Just a strange expression.
The voice seemed to realize she had said too much, and went rigid.
"That doesn't mean anything unusual."
Matt blinked. Then let out a low laugh.
Not mocking.
More tired.
"Relax. I didn't think anything unusual."
"Your face said otherwise."
Matt looked down at the black sword for a moment.
Yes.
She wasn't lying.
As much as he wanted to deny it, that annoying voice had done something.
When he fell, she took control.
Clumsy.
Scared.
Inexperienced.
But she did it.
She didn't immediately run.
Didn't hide.
Didn't freeze until she died.
She fought.
She survived.
Found the exit.
And then kept learning.
Matt gripped the sword handle slightly tighter.
"Have you thought of a name yet?"
The voice went completely still.
"What?"
"A name."
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"You…"
She pointed at herself, confused.
"For me?"
"No. For the sword."
The voice looked at the black sword.
Matt sighed.
"Yes, for you."
The voice didn't respond.
Her expression changed in a way Matt hadn't expected.
She didn't get excited.
Didn't smile.
Didn't make a joke.
She just went still, as if something too heavy had just been placed on her.
"I…"
Matt watched her.
"You never thought about it?"
The voice looked down.
"No."
"Not even once?"
"No."
Matt frowned.
"Why?"
She took a moment to answer.
"Because I didn't think I needed one."
Matt was quiet.
The voice gripped the guns.
"Originally I was just going to come out, replace you, and stay with the queen so you could leave."
"Yes."
"If I had to use your name, I would."
Matt didn't react.
"And if the queen wanted to give me another one, then…"
The voice stopped.
The sentence sounded wrong even to her.
"I'd use that one," she finished quietly.
Matt looked at her for several seconds.
Then spoke:
"That sounds miserable."
The voice looked up.
"What?"
"Letting that woman name you."
The voice looked down again.
"I hadn't thought about it that way."
"Start."
The wind moved the grass.
The voice looked at her hands.
Then at the sky.
Then at the field Matt had created.
A fake space.
Yes.
But open.
Large.
No walls.
A place where she could fall, get up, make mistakes, and try again.
A place where, for the first time, someone was asking her what she wanted to be called.
The voice felt a strange pressure in her chest.
Not like before.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Something harder.
"Do I have to choose it right now?"
"No."
Matt rested the sword on his shoulder.
"Don't stress about it. Pick anything and then change it when we get out of here."
The voice looked up sharply.
"No."
Matt blinked.
"No?"
"I'm not going to do that."
"Why?"
She gripped the guns.
"Because it's not just anything."
Matt watched her. The voice swallowed.
"A name is…"
She stopped, searching for the words.
She didn't have them clearly.
But she kept going anyway.
"It's how others are going to call me."
Matt didn't respond.
"It's how they'll know they're talking to me."
Her voice dropped.
"I don't want to choose it carelessly…"
The field went quiet.
Matt looked at her with a serious expression.
For a moment, she thought he'd make fun of her.
That he'd say something like "how dramatic" or "it's just a word."
But he didn't.
He just sighed.
"Fine."
The voice looked at him.
Matt raised the black sword.
"Then think about it while I hit you."
She blinked.
"What?"
"Vampires tend to spar with each other."
The voice took a moment to process the topic change.
"Spar?"
"Yes."
Matt spun the sword once.
"Training, hierarchy, entertainment, pride… all that nonsense."
"That sounds very irritating."
"It is."
Matt made a face.
"They also use it to show affection."
The voice looked at him in surprise, mouth falling open at that declaration.
"Affection?"
"Yes."
The way Matt said the word was pure distaste, but the voice couldn't hold back a small smile.
Not elegant.
Not coy.
More nervous and a little awkward.
"So does this mean you're starting to feel something for me?"
Matt disappeared.
The voice opened her eyes.
"Huh?"
She had no time to react.
Matt appeared right in front of her.
Too fast.
The voice barely raised the guns.
Too late.
Matt's fist hit her stomach.
BAAM!
The air left her lungs.
"Ghk!"
The voice was sent flying backward and fell on her back in the grass. The guns slipped from her hands.
One fell to the left.
The other rolled to the right.
She lay there, clutching her stomach, trying to breathe.
Matt walked toward her with the black sword in one hand.
"First lesson."
The voice coughed.
"Cough! Cough!"
"Don't say stupid things when someone with more experience approaches you armed."
The voice looked at him through eyes watering from the hit.
"Th-That was… too much…"
"No."
Matt stopped a few steps away.
"I went easy on you."
The voice swallowed air as best she could.
The pain spread through her mental body, heavy and real. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
Not as bad as outside.
But enough.
Much more than enough.
Matt raised the sword.
"If you're going to fool Iris, at minimum you need to last five minutes fighting against me."
The voice opened her eyes, disbelieving at that declaration.
"Five minutes?"
"Yes."
