Aclysia watched her Master’s loss play out on the small screen of her phone.
From the mont she saw the manoeuvrability of his enemy, paired with his warning regarding her ability, she knew that his loss was inevitable. It was not a cherished thought and part of her hoped he would find a way to turn this around. However, she had been with her John since the first days of him shaping his build. As a matter of fact, much of the way he fought he had built around her being there to protect him. That she was not was a failing of the rules of the tournant. Utterly unreasonable rules, not to allow her to aid her beloved.
Alas, the world was often unreasonable when it ca to keeping them apart. Every ti they had to break a kiss or a cuddling session or when he raised his head out of her lap. Utterly unreasonably rules of ti and space, pulling them apart.
At least the reason why she was in the Boating Seaquence at this ti was acceptable. Protecting a mber of his harem was as justifiable a reason to be away from him as it could get. It was acceptable for a few hours, maybe a few days.
The sounds of Hailey’s work in the background continued, while her Master was chased around the arena. Happy hums accompanied every little click of the turning layers of the Rose being rearranged.
That she was so jovial while John faced certain defeat did not bother Aclysia. In tis past, it might have, but the first maid had long since realized that her Master’s true strength did not lie in his individual might. He was their leader, the force that drove them forwards into a glorious future, and even if he lost his own fight, he had the long term planned out to such a degree that their success was inevitable. It might take twists and turns, ups and downs, but eventually they would arrive at their fated destination.
Such certainty was the privilege of loving the greatest man to ever live.
“How’s he doin’?” The scratching of graphite on paper underlined the question. Her research notes were to be kept in the most secure location known to anyone in the harem: the Harem Comms. Each page of notes would be ‘copied’ by Hailey’s eyes and sent into a separate chatroom inside there. The images would only remain there for a month, but that was more than enough ti for Scarlett to pull them onto a local server only the harem and a select few had access to.
If anyone but Hailey was even capable of properly interpreting her enigmatic assortnt of hieroglyphs. Even with Aclysia’s heavily increased Intellect and Wisdom, the engineer-speech on the pages was utterly incomprehensible to her.
Not that she had looked up from the phone since the fight had started. “Poorly,” she said plainly.
“Has he been hit yet?” Hailey drawled.
“Negative. I hope the connection interference will be neutralized by the distance.”
“Do ya know that’s how that works?”
“No, but it is likely.” Aclysia pressed her lips together when the blade stabbed at John. On the screen, she could only start to get that the way his Particle Skin flashed was unusual. Everything else was swallowed up by the limited fra data the device was capable of. “Can you upgrade my display in under five seconds?”
“Dependin’ on what ya want to do, that’s gonna take up to a few weeks, sis’,” his country gal responded. “Crampin’ a thousand fras per second into that lil’ thang? Challengin’ ev’n for .”
Aclysia just humd. The fight and the experintation continued. Ti ticked on. Then, he was struck.
To prepare for what happened was impossible. She might as well have steeled her muscles against the impact of a celestial body. The phone hit the ground with a loud clatter as a horrendous amount of static flooded through the tiny opening that still existed between her Master and herself at that distance. That little bit that let each other know they were alive sowhere outside the range of communications turned into a cascade of corrupted data.
It pressed on all of Aclysia’s senses. Up and down beca difficult to grasp. The edge of her field of vision beca fuzzy, the centre blurry and way too bright, like the end of a long, dark tunnel. Her ears barely heard Hailey’s concerned intent and did not make out the words whatsoever. Even her sense of sll was depressed.
Aclysia realized she was on all fours after several seconds, staring at the floor. ‘Failure!’ she scolded herself. ‘The mission given is protection! Remain vigilant!’ Imdiately she raised her gaze.
And spotted a scene most foul.
A number of people, she could not make out how many, had surged into the room. Several were on top of Hailey, pinning her down with combined effort. There was a flash of a syringe and muffled screams of protest. More people stread into the room, heading for the Rose and herself.
“You – dare?” Aclysia heard her voice as sharply as the surface of a frozen lake cracking.
Hatred surged into her veins. Steaming hot through a body of ice, the difference in temperature burning painfully through her being. The static remained layered over her senses, but that did not matter. Reason did not matter. The accuracy of her senses did not matter. Purpose mattered. The property of her Master mattered. The safety of Hailey mattered, most of all.
In a haze of headache and confused senses, Aclysia inhaled deeply and bellowed out a breath of chilling frost. The temperature in the impromptu workshop dropped so sharply, the moisture in the air flash froze and fell to the ground as powdered snow. The cracking of glass barely reached her ears. The liquid inside the syringe had turned solid, breaking its container.
Fighting her way onto her legs, maid outfit making room for black scales covered in glacial ice, Aclysia grabbed the temperature of the room and pulled it down further. The blue gemstone in her chest shimred from all the mana flowing through it. Breathing heavily, she tried to focus on any one of the assailants.
A volunteer charged at her. Her diminished sight snapped over. She couldn’t even make out the person’s features. Hunched over and swaying, the only certainty she had was that all those that did not sport Hailey’s manifesting armour were her enemy.
The rest of her body was unsteady, but Aclysia’s arm moved at rapid speed. Claws of Black Ice caught her assailant by the throat. “You actually dared,” she growled. The initial mont of extre clarity had waned, leaving her voice to sound to her ears like it was coming out of an old-tiy radio. The heat of her capture under her hand was rapidly decreasing. Her claws dug into skin. Blood froze before it reached the first joint of her thumb.
Aclysia’s tail curved around. The black, frost-covered limb ramd into the person’s ribcage, freezing their heart in place forever. She had to shake the frozen corpse off her hand. Crystals of frozen red rained down in her periphery.
Blinking slowly, Aclysia tried to gain a view of the situation. She saw the bright blue blur of Hailey, fending off a few assailants. She moved faster, much faster than her enemies, but her strikes were wide and sloppy still. She fought like she was hamring a fencepost into the ground, not like she was aiming for a nimble opponent.
There was movent elsewhere. ‘They’re taking the Rose and making a run.’ The realization dawned like molasses. The temperature dropped further, reaching the negative 70 degrees that she was capable of. The soles of shoes froze onto the painted tal floor at this temperature.
Aclysia lurched forwards, her eyes unfocused orbs of hatred. It ran almost as deep as her love, often in parallel to that wonderful emotion – the pure hate she had for his enemies.
“What do you think gives you the right to even be a pebble in my Master’s way?” she hissed at no one and everyone. Tiemarath manifested in her hand. Sowhere, she realized that the blade was cutting a deep trench into the ground as she dragged it with her. The rest of her was too claid by the pulsing headache.
Every second the pain remained was proof that her John, too, was suffering. He was losing. He was being inconvenienced, set back, tornted. He had to see the lovable others of his harem get hurt in this sa way. Nothing would hurt her beloved more.
And she was adding to that hurt by failing in her duty.
The realization pushed Aclysia’s will into a singular point. She shoved her connection to her Master as far away as the landscape of her soul allowed. It hurt, but in a different way, more and simultaneously less real than the effect Karia’s magic had on their connection. Corrupted data still swirled around her mind. Rather than feeding right into her senses, it was only an obstructive influence at the side, though. Sothing she could keep at arm’s length, as long as her pure hatred was in the way.
Sight, along with all her other senses, snapped back to near total recovery. She saw the scene, the corpse she had flung into a bookshelf, the frost-covered interior walls of the workshop, and Hailey fending off three trained soldiers. They wore all black, their origin covered as best as possible. The Rose was gone. The door out of the room busted open at the flash frozen hinges.
Pulling her lips back into a grimace of pure rage, Aclysia Aided Hailey. The ability let her teleport right between the enigma engineer and one of her attackers. It only saved her two steps, but that was enough justification for her. Tiemarath swung in a wide arc, turning all three n into legless corpses in a shower of freezing gore.
Aclysia clawed at her face and scread. The impulse was primal, unrefined. All the training she put onto herself to regain her forr elegance was forgotten between pulses of pain and disappointnt in herself. Between all of that was a different emotion.
“Where did they go?” the first maid growled. Her posture was compromised, her spine still bent from the burden of fending off the distracting influence of the interfered connection to her one and only Master. Her legs were similarly bent, ready to let her charge in the direction of any foe she spotted. There were none remaining in this room.
“’Clysia, ya-“
“Where – did – they – go, Hailey?” Aclysia asked, each word another echo in the series of cracks that announced the descent of an avalanche. She hissed, another pang of pain threatening to dull her senses and thoughts to the point of uselessness. ‘Unacceptable. Master’s servants must always be sharp and ready.’
“They went through the door?” Hailey’s voice was confused, and Aclysia understood why.
“The door…” she muttered, taking the hand off her face. “Of course… How many.”
“Ten, ya killed four.”
“Six walking dead. Wait here.”
Hailey just gulped and nodded, her expression hidden by her helt.
Aclysia took one step. It was slow, terrible, insufficient. She scread again. She scread so that all that were obstacles to their happiness knew that death was coming. Then she ran.
The corridors of the yacht froze in her presence. She turned a corner, mindlessly running without a plan. A plan, as it turned out, was not required, only the unadulterated aggression of a slighted servant. She spotted a hole in the ship's hull and a man that was swimming as fast as he could towards the shore.
Aclysia leapt. The man was locked in motion before she landed on the frozen wave her presence created. His strength was enough to break the ice, but his sturdiness was far from sufficient to prevent him from being broken. Standing on the floe, Aclysia dragged the man out by the back of his neck, before unceremoniously relieving his spine of the burden of keeping his body upright. Without an ounce of hesitation, she carried the corpse back with her to the yacht, dropping the cryonically preserved body on the ground. Soone was responsible for this and she would extract every ticulous detail from their unworthy flesh bags when she was done here.
The barking of Claire’s wolves made her contort into another direction. Charging, almost running as much on bloodied claws as her legs, the weapon of his wishes stord down the corridors. She did not stop until she slamd the head of another assailant into a wall with enough force to make the skull explode like an egg. Brain matter painted the wall.
Hatred.
Aclysia heard the whimper of another soldier behind her. She turned around. The crying beca louder. Every mont she hated, it manifested around her as an aura. The throbbing in her head fuelled every delightful second of wrath.
Delightful?
Yes. Delightful.
“You dared,” Aclysia walked towards the soldier. She had seen his comrades fight. These n were level 100, at least, and properly trained. Yet, in her presence, this elite infiltrator turned into a crawling, whimpering ss. He tried to get away. His skin froze to the wall he touched and left a horrific handprint.
Aclysia did not enjoy the uncleanliness of it all. Ice had the advantage of being easy to sweep, except for sticky remains like that. What she did enjoy was the wrath. A twisted part of her took imnse glee in turning his enemies into pathetically grovelling slabs of desperation. It was the part of her that she had aid to rein back in over the past few weeks.
Still, it was part of her.
And was it not appropriate to let that part reign when she was crushing his enemies?
Her lips were already twisted into a grin, had been the entire ti. A mad smile, that she was aware enough to know, but oh so satisfying. It trembled with each painful pulse. “You thought you knew better than my John. You thought you could outsmart him. You thought you could take what is his.”
“I’m sorry, just let live and I’ll tell you everything!”
“Right answer.” Aclysia sunk her claws into his thigh. Black Ice tore off her digits and attached to his skin. She dropped the man and he began to crawl away. The shards of ice grew. Soon they would cover his entire thigh. She put a ntal limit on its growth, so he would only be incapacitated, not entirely enveloped by the material. “Stay, until he judges you.”
That was all she had to say. The pounding in her head demanded she continued the hunt. Three traitors to his world remained. Three criminals that had dared to touch one of her fellow harettes and to steal her magnum opus. Aclysia would continue hunting them until they were all dead or captured.
Such was her duty as his first maid.
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