Everything around me had gone black.
Obsidian black.
Pitch black.
No, rather, the term 'black' was inaccurate for this certain situation, unlike what people may think.
When people tend to lose consciousness in a way or another, whether asleep, or knocked out in a brawl, from excessive bleeding or out of suffocation, they commonly think associate everything around them blacking out suddenly.
But that is a common misconception, you know?
In reality, everything becomes colorless.
What you see is actually the first definition of colorlessness, not 'black'.
?
-------------------
A lone figure could be seen walking in the desolate the snow-swept waste that reached halfway up the boots, the heavy footsteps of the dark blue military boots walking, a white heavy furcoat draped over the body, a hood over the head.
Black leather gloves adorned the hands, preventing it from freezing as an unfortunate result of the wintry hell-on-earth.
The hands that held a small case suddenly unlocked it with a 'Click!', throwing the box aside, and holding a rectangular-looking box that was a mix of dark silver that approached grey, and a quite quaint woodish brown.
Click, Click.
In a motion of pressing a side toggle, the rectangular box unfolded from the stock to the barrel, revealing a bolt action rifle, its beautiful design contrasting the blue light of the sky.
"..."
The figure stared at the rifle for a few moments, before pulling back her white cap, and reached out to the side of her thighs, shaking her head, as if brushing her white hair strands that blocked her vision.
She narrowed her eyes, as she pulled out the Bowie knife strapped to her thigh, and briefly secured it as a bayonet, before inserting a magazine from a deep pocket in her oversized jacket.
She pulled back the bolt, before releasing it, silver-white runes glowing for a fraction of a second, before dissolving as if they had never existed.
".... It seems Friar truly has sound judgement when it comes to weapons, it seems. I owe him an G. orb when I go back. That bastard... And here I thought he wouldn't know anything on weapons other than his non-sensical spells"
She muttered unpleasantly, quickening her steps, as she navigated through the woods with trees that reached the heavens, as far as the eyes could see, their width immeasurable thick, length akin to that of a football field.
Thin purple moss grew near the bottom of the trees despite the weather being filled with the white powder.
Her eyes scanned the distance before her, before she tilted her head at an oddity, her doll like eyes not reacting to anything in particular.
"It smells like ... meat. Human meat."
She turned her gaze to the distance as she realized why her instincts had been suddenly enabled out of nowhere, as if a switch had suddenly activated them on co-pilot.
Since her childhood, her keen sense of instinct had never proved to be incorrect, and currently, she didn't think her instincts were giving false flags either.
She closed her eyes for a moment, as she slowed her mind process, arranging her thoughts like a puzzle.
Upon completion, she opened her eyes, and raised her rifle with one arm, before pulling out a revolver with her empty hand and .... sprinted!
Her suspicious were not unfounded.
The report she had received from was not false, nor was it of fabrication as she had initially thought.
Despite that, her thoughts whirled, as she thought on her suspicion back at HQ, where the inaccuracy of information had exceeded its initial tolerance.
However, despite that occurring, none had caused major damage to the system, which at first seemed to be an act of caution.
But it was not that at all.
"Benedict is up to something" She concluded, muttering, her deltoids strengthened from the application of First Term Mana.
With a peculiar gaze that held neither hostility nor amiability, she continued sprinting until she reached the edge of the forest, where her speed suddenly started slowing down noticeably, as she started walking.
"The smell of meat ... has grown stronger. I wonder what happened on the borders. If this comes out, it could cause an international incident between the two majornations, to fight on a no-man's zone, I reckon."
As she approached the edge of the forest, where the thin line between the UPG and The Empire stood, a no-man's area, she halted her steps, as she noticed a slumped figure near the borders.
"First evidence of the Violation of The Gervene-Leneant Agreement, one imagines."
She cast a single gaze towards the corpse that was punctured in two places in its body, the blood seeping out into the snow, as she kicked the corpse over with her feet to get a better look at the face.
'So in the end, the World War is inevitable. Their eagerness to bring down the Empire is beyond meritorious.'
She looked at the body for a few moments, her gaze moving from the blackened patches of blood on the hips to where the liver should be, to where a visible hole was cleanly drilled through the lower ankle and the frozen string, and the pale face of a young man, his eyes closed.
Yet his implacable fear was visible in his last moments.
"Pity"
The body was slightly hardened from the frost, and seemed relatively new, Logic concluded.
"The attack on this place did not happen in more than an hour ago, one imagines" She concluded in observation, rubbing her lower lip out of habit.
However ...
If there was one thing that did not sit well with her ...
It would be how they had exactly found out about this attack.
Where there was a watchtower near the borders equipped with military instruments that could detect P/T - E.S (Permanent / Temporary Energy Signatures) in different wavelengths, ranging from the most basic energy form where even a slight ripple from the branch in the Universal Barrier that surrounded the Empire would been automatically inscribed in an automatic Log Book.
She would have to investigate this when she returned. It seemed there were more rats besides Bernald who had a hand in cooking the Devil's meal.
Yet, she had not received any of that when the corpse before her, before he turned into a corpse, had trespassed through the borders, no sirens or alarms as per the Custom Procedures required by the Domestic Law of the Empire, as per a Decree of the Minister of State Defense.
And for it to be first relied by the person she had placed her suspicion on the most, one who had frequently subtly tampered with small details that wouldn't cause any major issues ....
Irrefutably.
'Foolish'
She spat in disdain.
It was a clear act of redirecting suspicion from him, by giving a true fact. But even that was not enough of a reason to motivate a person like Bernald, who had no hostility not love for the empire, but merely materialistic value.
Perhaps she could find a lead on his motivations through any evidence in this setting. Her white eyelashes fluttered for a moment as she strolled over to the barrier, and closed her eyes focusing on the core in her body.
"Emanus Dextras, ir Gordus, ile prolamon"
She muttered under her breath, before she placed her rifle on the ground, and extended her hand, taking out the ring on pinky finger. She held the ring in her hand which contained the symbol of a tree that extended beyond clouds and apples dangling upon it.
"Abracus ahamanas, alakras, azaras"
Steadying her breaths, she concentrated on the ring as she slowly but steadily pushed energy in pulses into the ring. After a few moments, of nothing occurring, a thin thread suddenly appeared from the center of the ring, before breaking into several other threads, and created a portal creating a circular form, and spinning.
Spinning at a certain Euclid Frequency, they etched themselves upon the barrier, forming a portal where Logic took a deep breath, picked up her rifle, put on her ring, and walked through it.
A ring granted by the Church of the Lord's Articulacy. One that granted access to the portal that separated the no-man's zone from The Empire without giving off false alarms to the watchtowers nearby.
With her unmoved expression, the woman's gaze scanned her new surroundings once she passed the barrier. Placing the stock of the heavy rifle with a thud on the snow and leaning it against her thigh, she confirmed the rounds in her revolver, and pulled back the hammer.
She raised her arm in the sky for a moment, before he finger pulled the trigger.
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG
Once, twice, thrice, quadrice, pentice, hexice, septice, octice!
Eight times, she shot, the shells falling out one after the other, ejected, before she lowered her arm with her unreadable eyes, tilting her head, for the first time letting out a small smile.
"..... They're far gone"
Strolling around, she first noticed the short amount of snowy shore land mixed with ice before the start for a lake-like river that extended hundreds of Hexes (Meters), yet her attention was not drawn to the mystical beauty of the water rippling, nor the beautiful violet Evergreen-resembling trees.
Instead, the smile on her face grew wider, her disbelief palpable with her wide eyes, as she stroked her neck roughly. She took a step forward after taking off her boots, directly walking into the freezing water, and blinked as she looked at the appearance of tens, no, hundreds of corpses floating on the water, the blood tainted a noticeable fading red.
"Oh my"
The debris of the collapsed bridge was mangled with the remains of the fully destroyed train, nothing left, the black charred color remaining on the half dangling train. She saw a white colored bird moving its beak, and removing the eye of an unfortunate corpse, another having its facial muscles and tongue devoured by other birds.
Corpses.
Tens.
A hundred.
No, Hundreds.
Hundreds of corpses.
"Ah. Its because of him, isn't it? I finally understand."
As if she wondered why this thought never occured to her, Logic tilted her head with a thoughtful expression etched upon her face, as she curled her toes playing with the cold white sand beneath her feet.
"Who knew that taking a walk like this once in a while other than skinning those human cattle would be this beneficial?"
She shook her hair, folded her sleeve to her elbow, letting out a cold breath of frost before bringing her hands to the water, and washing her face.
She returned to the shore, and equipped her weapons, securing them, her arms red from the aftereffect of the cold, yet she paid it no heed.
"Bernald. I'll simply frame hi-"
Click, Clack!
Pulling back the bolt handle rapidly, she crouched, taking position as she narrowed her eyes with full focus, her eyes gleaming a fait ripple of silver in her dark pupils, readying for a snap shot.
Upon seeing nothing in vision, she stood up rapidly, and moved towards the sound that came from beyond the barrier. However, even so, she could not relax.
Despite the sound coming from the territory of the empire and not sensing any presences around her when she entered the river-like lake, her caution did not allow her the luxury of trust.
With a loud sharp tone, she spoke as she approached cautiously, eyeing the setting around her for potential routes to take if things did not go as expected.
"Oblivion!"
In response to her loud voice, no response came from beyond, nor any sound could be heard.
"I pride myself in Oblivion!"
No response.
The other side was not an ally, as they didn't recognize the coded format, neither did they respond.
The woman's double cross-like earring painted in white and black shook for a moment, before she let out a sigh of frost, putting her rifle on the floor with no visible audio and took out her revolver taking out eight pieces of ammunition and rapidly inserting them into the chamber.
Placing it back with a click, the woman's sharp eyes suddenly turned a transparent blue as runes glew on the revolver.
The pale lips of the woman parted.
"Refused"
"For if you embrace oblivion"
The blue-silvers appeared, rapidly moving around the four-Hera (inch) barrel, an expansive view of the world's edges, borders, corners appearing before her, calculations running through her head.
"You embrace your demise of loyalty. To yourself."
All inaccuracies self-corrected, a transparent anchor appearing from her feet, firmly planted on the earth, the barrel twisting and rotating at high speeds.
The chamber rotated in the opposite direction, glowing in an orange color.
She pulled the trigger.
Yet, it was at that moment that she saw a figure staggering, holding its side, head swaying.
It muttered uncomprehensible words, a red liquid staining its teeth as it breathed heavily, leaning on a tree, its left latissimus dorsi basically gone.
Yet, her expression did not change.
The moment the bullet left the handgun, the space around lagged for a moment, as the pressure of the bullet exceeded the threshold of drag possible, shooting through the stomach of the figure that was staggering.
"Agh!"
The young man stumbled on the ground, blood pouring from the new wound on the stomach, as he weakly tried to cover it with his hand, but was unable to.
The woman approached the young man, the revolver' barrel slowing down, fizzling with steam from the high speed rotation, as she approached the haggard figure on the brink of death, strolling as if nothing had happened.
The figure's eyes were half closed, dead like a fish's, as if death was merely a neighbor knocking on the door asking for a bag of spices for its dinner, gravy.
A gravy of death.
The hand that was trembling, covering the wound, fell, and faint breaths were audible to the ear if focused enough.
"May you should raise your voice next time when someone calls, don't you think? One truly imagines."
The man did not respond to her, his lifeforce becoming faint by the second. Without being able to speak a word to her, his dry, cracked lips parted, frostbite eating away at his body at several spots, reaching the lower part of his neck.
"... a ... v .... e"
"Hm?"
The woman who was about to leave, turned back to the man, and walked back to him, her hair fluttering with the wind as if she had no care in the world.
"Since I am in a good mood, I will listen to your request. But be quick, no? Only one request, I imagine."
Putting her ears near the shallow breath of the young man, she nodded her head, listening to his request.
Would he ask for mercy for a swift death?
Perhaps ask about taking care of his family?
Maybe ask to be saved?
"Sa....ve. Me"
Bingo.
The woman let out a shrill laugh, her eyes the same as ever as she heard his request, nodding his head, before standing up, and turning the chamber of her revolver with a click.
"No"
------------------------------------
The man's vision consciousness started to blur as he heard her words.
------------------------------------
Ah, what a pity.
I guess I really will die this time.
----------------------------------------
No luck, huh.
I wonder how many times this makes me, losing consciousness again?
------------------------------------------------
The last thing Noel remembered he saw was the black unfamiliar circle of the diameter of the barrel of the revolver pointing towards him.
But what really stuck to his brain was the tattoo on the woman's neck, extending in a full 360 degrees, even covering her nape.
A dashed lined ran across her throat, marking it with black ink deeply engraved under her skin, no ...
Faintly under her muscle, but visible?
Above it something was written in beautiful writing.
𝒞𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒