The scent of burnt miasma and ozone hung heavy in the air, it was disgusting. Kirai stood in the center of the dissipating mist, her scythe still humming with the echoes of the battle. The black mist it exuded coiled around her like a living thing, feeding off the residual magic and dissipating tension. Her chest rose and fell with deliberate slowness, not from exhaustion but from a strange exhilaration coursing through her veins, after all, she could keep going for days if needed.
The Archmage had been... amusing. His spells had crackled with raw power, each one a challenge, a test of her instincts. He was the first opponent she had faced who could match her movements in this new form. And yet, it had all felt like a rehearsal, a dance with no true stakes. She knew that he didn't put his back on it either, which only brought a smile to her face. Her armor pieces made of daemon steel were burning, scorching her skin, the pain told her that it hadn't been a dream, this was all reality, but even so, her body kept regenerating at a vertiginous speed.
Her golden eyes burned like embers as she tilted her head, pondering the fleeting encounter. The Archmage had retreated before the fight could escalate. He took the smart choice, but maybe she had pushed him into picking that. After all in the midst of the battle she had said only one word.
"Eugine" She said again looking at the wall, she could feel the gaze of the scared watchers, and the still confused look on the archmage's face.
When she was about to slash at him, one distant memory flared to life, a peaceful night under the moonlight, while talking with a redhead man about magical nonsense, she couldn't understand the words she was saying, but every time he mentioned her name it distorted, making it impossible to learn it. When she said his name out loud, his face contorted into confusion, used that explosive spell on her again and vanished.
A great deal of her wanted to consume him. But she hadn't. Not yet. Something held her back. Perhaps it was the part of her still tethered to her former self... the faint whispers of humanity that hadn't been entirely drowned out by the miasma. And then, from the other fortresses, purple smoke started to emerge, it was a signal. She picked up her scythe again and prepared, unknown words of her past told her to be on alert. Across the red wall, countless loopholes were opened to make way for cannons.
Hell rained.
The thunderous sound of the artillery erupted, it seemed someone had made the decision and given the order to attack. But she remained calm. As soon as the concentrated barrage started to rain upon her she moved gracefully to avoid the projectiles. There was some fire spell barrage thrown at her too, but she just cut the spells using her blade and moved forward, onwards to her objective. With each step she made she covered a vast distance of land, it was thrilling, every meter advanced she could hear the panic, they couldn't stop her, and when she was near enough she jumped, surprising everyone, she was climbing the wall while running as if it were flat land.
Kirai's ascent was nothing short of mesmerizing, a defiance of all natural laws, an affront to the mortal minds witnessing her. Her steps against the wall left faint scorch marks, not from friction but from the residual miasma that clung to her form. The barrage of cannon fire continued, deafening explosions rippling through the air, but it was futile. Every projectile was either evaded with inhuman precision or shattered by the swipe of her scythe, which moved as if it had a mind of its own.
"Pathetic!" She burst into laughter as she kept going.
When she reached the top of the wall, her leap was a blur, a burst of speed that left the defenders gaping. She landed among them with the grace of a predator, and the archmage was gone, she looked around to see if she could find him, but he had long disappeared as she started moving. The defenders looked at her with trembling hands.
But there was one, one among them who acted even with the fear. Out of respect, she had retreated the miasma back to her allowing the puny humans to breathe, her eyes met the frenzied look con Gamelin's eyes.
As he swung down with all his might, the blade met resistance... not her flesh, but the smooth, curved metal of a scythe. Gamelin gritted his teeth, stunned. How had she raised her weapon so quickly? He hadn't even seen her move. He pushed harder, sweat beading on his forehead, but it was like trying to press down against a solid stone. Her strength was effortless, almost bored.
And then, to his horror, she smiled at him.
"You won't get past this wall, demon!" he shouted, his voice a little stronger, though he felt his heart pounding with every word "I am a soldier of the Order of Wollsokia" he managed, swallowing down his fear "We don't fear monsters!" He pushed with all his might, he should have created a miracle, he had to... "I'll stop you, even if it costs me my life!"
But instead of striking him down, she just looked at him with that quiet, detached gaze, as if considering him. He felt small under her scrutiny as if she were peeling away the layers of his resolve and finding them wanting.
"Do you really think you can stop me?" she asked, her tone almost… sympathetic. And then, with a casual flick of her wrist, she brushed his sword aside, sending him stumbling back "Tell me" she said, her voice soft, almost curious "Why guard this wall with your life? What are you protecting?"
He blinked, caught off guard by the question. What was he protecting? The kingdom, yes, the people. His honor, his family's name. But under her gaze, the words felt flimsy, hollow. He struggled to find his voice "We… protect the people. The kingdom. We keep monsters like you from spilling into our lands and taking innocent lives"
Her smile faded, and for a moment, a shadow passed over her face... a strange look, as if she were recalling a distant memory, something that lingered at the edges of her mind. It was gone in an instant, replaced by that same empty gaze.
"People…" she murmured, her eyes darkening as if the word itself tasted bitter "Is that worth dying for?"
Gamelin forced himself to meet her gaze, clinging to the last remnants of his courage "Yes" he said, his voice barely a whisper, but firm, he was scared, more scared than ever, he had never spoken with a Mistborn, this was wrong, but her determination was sincere "Yes, it is"
Gamelin knew reinforcements would arrive, but by the time that happened he would long be dead and every soldier here too, people would come here just to be cut down by the enemy. She looked frail, like a young girl, a teenager, a good deal of her skin was revealed, but the few plates of armor she had were worth more than a castle, it was from a material impossible to forge by humans. But to his surprise, she lowered her weapon.
"Then live" She said and jumped to the other side of the wall.
Leaving behind a group of soldiers broken and confused, they of course were happy to be alive, but they couldn't understand why were they alive, after all, with a swift movement for sure she could have turned them all into minced meat.
...
...
...
Far below the wall, Kirai landed with a graceful thud, her hoofs meeting the cracked, dry earth without a sound. She gazed up at the towering structure behind her, its defenders still visible as specks atop its battlements. She could feel their fear, sharp and bitter in the air, but it no longer interested her. She had spared them because they didn't represent any threat to her, and they didn't present a challenge.
Her scythe dissolved into a dark mist, curling around her body before disappearing entirely. The ground beneath her hoofs blackened where the miasma pooled for a moment, then sank back into her. She turned away, her golden eyes scanning the horizon for her next destination. She wouldn't have to worry about the defenders of the wall at all, their fortresses were made to fight against that side of the wall, not the realms of man, they couldn't fire their cannons at her in this direction, and when they manage to get down here she would have been long gone.
Her hunger stirred again, a deep, gnawing emptiness that no victory, no bloodshed, could fill. It wasn't food or drink she craved... it was purpose. She had been born of chaos, molded by the miasma into a creature of destruction, but the whispers in her mind spoke of something more, she wanted answers, she wanted more power, she wanted things she couldn't describe.
And so she began to hastily move toward a nearby forest, it would serve as a base of operations to plan her next step. And just like that, she vanished from the place as if she never existed, leaving chaos and anger behind her. The only proof was the deteriorated spot where she had landed, distorted by the miasma's influence. After all, right now, she was no more than a phantom, an illusion, smoke and mirrors.