"I am Lia."
She spoke the na with a flicker of feigned confusion. Skele-Pride remained
seated in the reed chair, silent, his gaze fixed on her. The soulfire burning
within his sockets didn't so much as ripple.
Lia didn't falter. She maintained her rhythm.
"I only woke today. My mories are a void. All I know is that Doctor William
recovered , treated my wounds, and assisted with my residency registration.
That is the sum total of my existence."
Her tone was sincere, her eyes perfectly projecting the lostness of a victim.
This was fundantal training: When under interrogation, never display tension
or evasion. The more transparent you appear, the more the interrogator will
doubt their own deductions.
Pride still didn't speak. Instead, he began to rise from the chair.
The movent was agonizingly slow. Yet, Lia felt her heart rate spike in that
single instant. Her eyes perford a lightning-fast sweep of the courtyard.
Five Skeleton Berserkers—all Tier 4. One Dragon-man—Ignius—radiating a Mana
signature of at least Tier 5. And the skeleton in the chair... she couldn't even
gauge his level. Instinct scread that he was a predator far beyond her current
capacity to resist.
Worse yet, she could sense sothing slithering in the shadows beyond the
courtyard walls. Shadow Guards, most likely. At least three of them.
Every extraction route was already sealed.
"The Arcane Legion recently processed a planar transit accident," Pride said,
watching her reaction with clinical interest. "The Mana fluctuations from that
event terminated in the exact sector of the forest where you were discovered."
"And then you manifested. Violently wounded, yet with zero evidence of an
assailant." He took a step forward, closing the distance. "Even my best trackers
couldn't find a single useful lead."
He leaned in, his skull inches from her face. The coldness of his presence was
like a physical weight.
"With so many 'coincidences' stacked atop one another... did you truly believe
you could deceive ?"
The soulfire in Pride's sockets flared with a sudden, mocking brilliance.
"You really are... quite arrogant, aren't you?"
The mont the words left his jaw, a crushing killing intent locked onto Lia.
Her body reacted before her brain could even process the threat.
The next second, her hand was clamped firmly around William's throat.
She controlled her strength—the gesture was a threat, not a strike. But the
ssage was clear: with a single twitch of her fingers, she could snap the old
man's cervical vertebrae.
"Let pass," Lia commanded.
She looked at Pride. Her voice remained steady, but her eyes had undergone a
total transformation. Gone was the bewildered girl. In her place stood a
professional who had walked through a thousand death-zones. Her gaze was cold,
rational, and stripped of all human warmth.
Pride halted his advance. He looked at Lia, then at the captive William.
"This scene... it truly brings back mories," Pride mused, his tone carrying a
disturbing note of amusent. "Even if I let you walk out that gate, where would
you run? How long could you possibly last?"
"That is my concern." Lia's grip tightened marginally. William let out a faint,
pained grunt. "If you wish to avoid aningless casualties..." She stared death
into Pride's sockets. "...then swear by your King that you will let depart
this town."
The courtyard beca a powder keg.
Every Skeleton Berserker reached for their hilt in a synchronized clack of bone
on steel. Gold light began to swirl in Ignius's slitted pupils. The shadows
beyond the wall hissed with restless movent.
But Pride simply raised a gauntleted hand. All movent ceased instantly.
He watched Lia, his soulfire pulsing with an accelerated rhythm. "How
fascinating. You're gambling."
"You're betting that we, the Undead, will honor an oath sworn in the na of our
Sovereign." Pride's tone turned playful. "You understand the Undead well. Or
rather... you understand our kind of Undead."
Lia said nothing, but her heart sank.
She had made a fatal error. A mundane, amnesiac human girl would have no concept
of the honor codes governing the Sovereign's generals. Only soone who had
spent lifetis observing the dead, or lived within an Undead society, would
know to demand such a specific vow.
"However," Pride continued, seemingly weighing the entertainnt value of the
situation. "In exchange for making this evening sowhat less tedious... I will
grant your request."
Lia blinked. She hadn't expected him to actually agree.
"I swear by the na of the Sovereign of Evernight," Pride declared, his voice
carrying the weight of a decree. "For the next hour, I shall not pursue you, I
shall not harm you, and I shall not obstruct your departure from this town."
Lia's mind raced. Why? Why let a confird infiltrator walk away? It was
tactically unsound.
Unless... he was absolutely certain he could reclaim her the mont the hour
expired. Or perhaps, he simply didn't care how far she could crawl in sixty
minutes.
Lia took a deep breath. She had no other options. To stay was to be captured; to
flee was a sliver of a chance.
She began to retreat toward the gate. One step. Two. She dragged William with
her, using him as a shield.
The Skeleton Berserkers didn't move. Ignius watched with silent, draconic
intensity. Pride sat back down in the reed chair, crossing one leg over the
other as if preparing to watch a play.
Lia reached the threshold of the courtyard. She could sense the street was
clear; the patrols had been pulled back. Even the Shadow Guards had vanished
from the periter. They were actually honoring the vow.
She prepared to shove William aside and vanish into the night.
But then, a strange sensation flooded her chest. It was a "logical error" in her
processing—a feeling she had never experienced in all her centuries of service.
It was a sharp, localized pain.
She glanced sideways at William.
The old man hadn't spoken a single word during the entire ordeal. He hadn't
begged. He hadn't struggled. He hadn't even shown the standard physiological
signs of terror. He simply stood there, accepting the betrayal of the girl he
had saved from the dirt.
Lia couldn't understand it. Why does this human make feel like this?
In her career, she had taken countless hostages. Nobles, peasants, soldiers,
children. She had never felt a single ripple of emotion for any of them. To her,
a hostage was a tool—an asset to be spent for ti or leverage.
But now... she felt... Guilt?
The word was a foreign invader in her mind. She was a spy. A Tier 5 agent who
had discarded her humanity for the mission. She shouldn't be feeling anything.
And yet, the sensation persisted, making her entire form feel heavy and
wretched.
She leaned in toward William's ear. In a voice so low only the two of them could
hear it, she spoke a single phrase.
"I am sorry."
William didn't look at her, but a soft, gentle smile touched his lips. It was
the look of a parent forgiving a child for a broken vase. He didn't speak. He
simply offered a small, knowing nod.
Lia released her grip.
She spun around and bolted from the yard. Within seconds, her silhouette was
swallowed by the dark alleys of the town, vanishing into the night.
☆☆☆
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