The room was bathed in a soft, muted glow, the faint light accentuating the silver shimmer of Raven's hair as it cascaded in damp waves over her shoulders. Mavis, now fully in control of Raven's body, glanced briefly at her reflection in the mirror. The mismatched hues of crimson and gold stared back at her, their brilliance undiminished by the dim lighting.
She adjusted the loose shirt draped over her—Raven's body felt both familiar and foreign, its movements fluid yet requiring a subtle acclimation. A soft knock at the door broke her reverie.
Mavis tilted her head, a curious smirk forming as she approached the door. When she opened it, she found Serine standing there, clutching a long case tightly against her chest. The red-haired archer's sharp red eyes widened ever so slightly, flickering over Mavis's damp hair, her slightly disheveled appearance, and the shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder, revealing a tantalizing hint of skin.
"Wraith!" Serine greeted, her voice carrying a hint of nervous energy. "I hope I'm not intruding or anything."
Mavis leaned casually against the doorframe, one arm resting lightly on the edge as her other hand traced idle patterns along the wood. She smiled, Raven's usual reserved demeanor replaced by an ease and confidence that caught Serine off guard. "Not at all. I just finished freshening up. Come in."
Serine hesitated but eventually stepped inside, her gaze darting around the room before settling on the long case in her hands.
Mavis closed the door behind her and turned to face Serine, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "So, what brings you here? Don't tell me you're still trying to give me a share of the reward from the ant subjugation. I thought we already settled that."
Serine shook her head quickly, her red hair swaying with the motion. "No, it's not about that. Actually…" She took a deep breath, her confidence returning as she held the case up. "I brought you something. The team and I—well, we wanted to thank you properly, so we made this for you."
Mavis arched a brow, the golden and crimson hues of her eyes glinting with intrigue. "A gift?"
Serine nodded, stepping forward to place the case on the nearby table. With a quiet click, she opened it, revealing the katana nestled within. Its blade gleamed with an ethereal radiance, the steel appearing to shift between shades of silver and obsidian. The hilt was wrapped in rich, dark leather, accented by silver filigree, and the scabbard was carved with intricate patterns that evoked both fire and shadow.
"We used parts of the Queen's core and shards," Serine explained, her voice brimming with pride. "And we pitched in to have the best blacksmith in the city craft this. We thought it suited you better than gold."
Mavis stepped closer, her hand reaching out to grasp the hilt. The katana hummed softly in her grip, the energy within it resonating as though recognizing its wielder. She unsheathed it with a smooth motion, the blade singing faintly as it cut through the air.
"This… is exquisite," Mavis murmured, her voice softer than Raven's usual tone but carrying an undeniable weight. She tested the balance with an experimental swing, the motion fluid and effortless. "You and the team went through so much trouble for this."
Serine's cheeks flushed as she shifted nervously under Mavis's gaze. "It was worth it. You've done so much for us already—this is the least we could do."
Mavis sheathed the blade with a satisfying click, then turned her attention back to Serine. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, her mismatched eyes locking onto Serine's red ones with a piercing intensity.
"I'll treasure it," Mavis said, her tone low and steady. "And I'll make sure it's put to good use."
Serine nodded, a soft smile forming despite the faint pink in her cheeks. "We're all lucky to have you, Wraith."
Mavis returned the smile, though there was a flicker of something deeper in her expression—an amusement that only she understood. She placed a hand lightly on Serine's shoulder, her touch lingering just long enough to elicit a startled yet pleased look from the archer.
"Thank you, Serine," Mavis said, her voice carrying an almost velvety warmth. "You're a good friend. Raven is fortunate to have someone like you by her side."
As Serine turned to leave, she hesitated at the door, casting one last glance over her shoulder. Mavis gave a slight nod, her smile still in place, and watched as the archer disappeared down the hallway.
Once the door clicked shut, Mavis turned back to the katana, her expression shifting to one of quiet contemplation. She ran a hand along the scabbard, feeling the craftsmanship and the latent energy thrumming within.
"Such loyalty," she murmured to herself, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "It's fascinating, the bonds these humans form. Perhaps there's more to gain from this than I thought."
In the back of her mind, Raven stirred faintly, still lost in the depths of her subconscious. Mavis glanced toward the mirror again, her mismatched eyes reflecting back at her—a perfect masquerade of the one they all knew as Wraith.
The scabbard was a work of art, carved with delicate patterns resembling intertwining flames and shadows. The design seemed almost fluid, shifting slightly as the light hit it, creating an illusion of flickering fire and swirling darkness. Silver inlays traced along the edges, their polished surfaces reflecting a subtle, otherworldly sheen. Small, embedded crimson gemstones were set at precise intervals, each one glowing faintly, as though infused with the essence of the Queen's core.
Mavis drew the katana from its scabbard with a slow, deliberate motion. The blade sang softly, the sound like a whisper of wind through a deep canyon. The steel itself was unlike anything she'd seen—it seemed to shift between silver and black as it caught the light, its surface etched with faint, glowing runes that pulsed with an inner energy. The runes were ancient and mysterious, their meanings lost to all but the most learned scholars, yet their power was unmistakable.
The weapon radiated a subtle heat, not uncomfortable but rather a testament to its fiery origins. At the base of the blade near the guard, the image of a coiled dragon was engraved, its body entwined with flames and shadows, symbolizing its dual elemental nature.
Mavis admired the craftsmanship with a glint of satisfaction in her mismatched eyes, the crimson and gold hues gleaming as they reflected the katana's faint glow. "A weapon like this deserves a name," she mused, holding the blade aloft. The mana within it seemed to hum in response, resonating with a rhythm that was almost alive. She closed her eyes, feeling the weapon's essence intertwining with her own, its fiery and shadowy origins merging seamlessly with the aura she now carried in Raven's form.
A smirk tugged at her lips. "Raven shouldn't be the one to name this, after all, her naming sense is terrible." She turned the blade slightly, watching the runes catch the light and pulse faintly. "Let's call you Karitoru, reaper of souls."
The name rolled off her tongue with a weight that felt right, as though the blade itself accepted the title. Mavis sheathed the katana, the click of the scabbard sealing the moment with quiet finality. "Karitoru," she repeated softly, her tone carrying a faint reverence. "You'll serve me well."
Satisfied, she turned her attention to the window, her mismatched eyes scanning the lively city streets below. The faint murmur of voices and the flickering glow of lanterns hinted at activity even in the late hours. She stretched leisurely, feeling the fluidity of Raven's body as she moved, and allowed herself a moment to savor the experience. It wasn't often she had the opportunity to fully immerse herself in the mortal world, and she intended to make the most of it.
"Let's see what humans normally do at this hour," she murmured to herself, a hint of amusement in her voice. "The night markets and street vendors seem to be bustling. How quaint."
Adjusting her cloak to conceal Karitoru, Mavis slipped out of the room with a graceful ease that belied her imposing presence. The halls of the Adventurer's Guild were quiet at this hour, the muffled sounds of distant chatter and clinking mugs echoing from the main hall below. She descended the stairs silently, her footsteps as light as a shadow's caress, and nodded briefly to the few guild members still lingering about. None seemed to notice the subtle shift in her demeanor—Mavis had ensured that her masquerade as Raven was seamless.
Once outside, the cool night air greeted her, carrying with it the mingled aromas of grilled meats, spiced pastries, and other delicacies from the market stalls. Lanterns strung across the streets bathed the cobblestone roads in warm, golden light, casting dancing shadows that seemed to sway with the gentle breeze. The sounds of haggling merchants, cheerful laughter, and the occasional street performer filled the air, creating an atmosphere of lively camaraderie.
Mavis walked leisurely through the market, her sharp eyes taking in every detail—the flicker of mana in enchanted trinkets, the subtle shifts in body language as vendors negotiated with customers, the way certain individuals clung to their belongings as if guarding precious secrets. It was a fascinating display of humanity, one that she found both amusing and oddly endearing.
She paused at a stall selling jewelry, her gaze drawn to a pendant crafted from blackened steel and set with a deep crimson gemstone. The merchant, an older man with a jovial smile, began extolling its virtues, claiming it was enchanted for protection. Mavis merely tilted her head, her expression unreadable.
"Protection, you say?" she murmured, her voice soft yet carrying an undercurrent of intrigue. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the pendant, and felt the faint hum of dormant mana. "Interesting… but not quite what I'm looking for."
Before the merchant could respond, a commotion from a nearby alley caught her attention—a group of rowdy individuals, their drunken laughter echoing in stark contrast to the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Mavis's expression darkened slightly, the corners of her lips curling into a subtle smirk.
"Well," she said to herself, turning away from the stall, "it seems this night might be more entertaining than I anticipated."
With a purposeful stride, she disappeared into the shadows, Karitoru resting at her side, ready to unleash its reaping blade if the need arose. The night was still young, and Mavis, in Raven's form, intended to make the most of it.