Chapter 169

◈ Chapter 169:

There was a sense of nothingness in the place she floated.

No, that wasn't quite true, not nothing. There was a shroud over the nothing, an ephemeral lie that the nothing was something, and because the nothing was stated as being something it was no longer nothing, it was the thing that was claimed as something.

It was a lying space.

Lyra floated in the lying space alone and disembodied. Alone, that is, apart from the black knife that floated before her, its black blade reflecting light that didn't exist in the nothing, another lie.

But that was only fitting for the knife, the lying knife in the lying space. She knew its story just by looking upon it. She knew because this was not a lie of omission, no, it was a direct lie, and a direct lie was told to your face.

The lie told her of the knife made of lies, or rather one lie, a lie so perfect, so piercing, and so believable that when it was uttered it had twisted the very air, wrending itself into reality. A lie that became a physical material once spoken.

A black metal.

That metal had been taken not by a metal worker or a blacksmith but by a laughing dancing jester, a jester who had worked the material into what she saw before her.

The lying knife.

She was drawing near to it now, her disembodied perspective causing the blade to loom large in her view, filling it, seeing deep within that lie of a reflection, a reflection that could not exist because there was nothing to reflect. Yet she could see that the knife did reflect, it reflected… people… flickering faces, part of a jester's hat, black scales, a snake tail, a terrified girl, Lyra.

Lyra felt her heart stop as she peered into those depths and for a moment saw herself reflected, trapped inside, trapped just as neatly as she had been trapped by her own lies in her past, lies that had boxed her in, restricted her.

A prison of self made lies more potent than the bars of any cage.

Lyra the liar and her lying knife, or was it the lying knife and its lying Lyra?

The lying knife came close and then she —

— Lyra woke up.

Mostly.

Her eyes were glued shut with crust and she let out a long pained groan as what felt like a lead brick placed between two slices of buttered bread was repeatedly pounded against her brain, a heavy pulsing drum beat.

"Hey, looks like she's finally up."

"Hrmm." came a bass growl, definitely Rain.

"Maybe we should get Vash to look at her, she looks two steps away from being an undead."

Lyra felt some indignation hearing that somewhere in her consciousness, but her brain was so fogged that it was impossible to muster a response.

Instead she opened her mouth… and immediately regretted it. It was like her tongue had turned into sandpaper resting in a pile of sand. Not the nicest of feelings to wake up to.

She struggled up on shaky arms and tried to turn, to sit on the edge of the bed.

Of course with her eyes still being glued shut she managed to somehow miss and with a rasped yelp found herself falling off the bed.

She hit the floor with a thump.

Her groans redoubled as she lay limp.

"Ha—lp," she slowly wheezed. "W—ate—r."

After a moment she felt a massive paw take hold of her waist and she found herself being picked up like a limp doll and placed in a very large and fluffy cross legged lap.

Hands moving vaguely she clutched at a moving arm which moved up to her face, a cup held delicately between digits. After a moment it tipped back and the nectar of the gods flowed into her mouth, well, actually just regular water, but it sure tasted like it.

She let out an almost sexual groan of relief. Truly this must be how a person lost in the desert must feel after finding an oasis!

After a moment the cup withdrew to her distress, and to her greater distress a moment later a soft yet rough paw pad that had been splashed with water pressed against her face and wiped across it, smearing her nose and eyelids and mouth to the side. Her hands flapped madly at the air as the careful paw pad washed her face clean like a gentle scrubber as she spluttered, hands slapping at the big arm.

That was one way to clear away the sleepiness, and she found she was able to open her crusted eyes at last.

She blinked blearily and squinted up at her benefactor, a giant wolf monster that bodily held her.

"Hey," she croaked. "Why do I have the worst hangover I have ever heard of or experienced in my entire life?"

"Because you're a big sheepy idiot who took a single drink from a stranger and then wouldn't stop drinking that drink until you were black out drunk," said Opal to her side.

"O-one drink?"

"Yes, one drink," gravelled Rain as he looked down at Lyra in his lap. She was wearing the dress from the party still, splashed copiously with dried blood. Neither of them had been capable of doing anything but passing out in beds next to each other after they had stumbled back from the disaster that had been the party.

The bed Rain had crushed when he flopped on it had been turned entirely crimson by his injuries, and so had most of the floor. A night's rest and Opal furiously throwing their entire stock of healing potions over him had stemmed the tide of red and he'd eventually woken and cleaned himself and the bed.

That just left Lyra's dress.

His paw came down on the still limp sheep girl and pinched the fabric and then began to lift.

A hungover Lyra let out a yelp and desperately tried to grab hold of the cloth, but to no avail, her dress was lifted, arms yanked up as the sleeving thing was tugged over her breasts, head, and arms, and then tossed aside.

Lyra gave Rain a hungover look, her arms crossed over her bra clad breasts.

"Do you mind?"

"It was dirty."

"That doesn't mean you just take my clothes off and expose me!"

"Why?"

Lyra glared hungover daggers at him, then flapped her hand in one direction. Rain followed her hand to see Pickle with her siblings, as if to point out it was inappropriate around them.

They were playing on one of the beds. They had gotten a collection of jewellery from somewhere, Pickle and the curly haired human girl were wearing tiaras while the younger messy blonde haired boy was wearing a crown, each of them had piles of necklaces around their necks as well as rings on every digit. Red was by the side of the bed, peeking up over its edge at them with eyes narrowed, watching the jewellery with a possessive gaze.

"So?" said Rain.

Lyra dragged a hand down her face.

"I'm too hungover for this. Gods what did I drink…"

Rain seemed to hesitate.

"Do you… remember what you said, when you spoke to Eliza?"

"I spoke to Eliza? What did I say?"

Rain's gaze moved away from the girl in his lap and he nibbled his lip.

"H-hey, why aren't you looking at me? Wh-What did I say!?"

Rain ignored the increasingly paranoid sheep girl wiggling around in his lap and watched Pickle instead. Better that way.

As he watched, the older sister suddenly snatched Pickle's tiara and placed it on top of her own. She was practically preening as Pickle fumed at her.

"Give!" cried Pickle trying to grab for it back but being far too short to reach.

"Hmm? What's that Pickle? I couldn't hear you over the sound of my new tiara."

Pickle curled her fists at her side and scowled up at her sister.

"M-maybe you shouldn't do that Kala," mumbled the younger smaller boy sat cross legged beside them, his hair nearly covering his eyes.

"Or what?"

"Or Bean might come…"

The girl blanched, but then set her jaw. "I don't care, I saw this tiara first anyway so it's mine."

"Don't need Bean," muttered Pickle glowering up at her sister.

"You think you can take it from me? What have you got?"

Pickle snorted then lifted a finger and pointed.

"Got fluff."

Kala turned to see Rain staring at her.

He loomed at her a bit, which was impressive considering he wasn't close to her and was sitting down. Kala squeaked and stumbled back before tripping and falling on her rear, the second tiara dropping from her head.

Pickle stomped across the bed and picked it up. She buffed it with one fluffy paw and placed it on her head. She gave Kala a smug look.

Lyra watched Pickle imperiously  strutting across the bed with her regained tiara. Truly the sudden wealth had gone to this family's head. It was genuinely a little concerning.

She was distracted by a finger poking her in the thigh.

"That human is like you, you know," said Opal, leaning over Rain's lap to get at her.

"Hwuh?"

"Stealing things. You stole Rain's kill."

Rain made a rumbling noise of warning, but it was too late.

"You killed that leveler, you killed Eliza. You used your fancy teleporting knife and you stabbed her in the heart and then she died and went puff."

"D-Don't be silly, I don't just kill people, that's not me, I don't do that, I'm not like that."

"How do you know? you were black out drunk!"

Lyra stiffened. "B-Because that's not something I do, I—"

Rain interrupted her before she could go further.

"It was self defence. She was going to kill you because she realised you mattered to me. I should never have put you in that position… but I… I needed to end her myself. That chance is gone forever now and that feeling, I can't get rid of the…" his paw clenched and he let out an unsteady breath.

Rain almost spoke aloud the half recalled nightmares that had haunted him during the night, a night wracked with half healed pain. The dark watery grave with light rippling above had kept him, and since he had woken the number of tiny little claws picking and plucking and pulling at the back of his brain felt like they had increased, trying to steal away his sapience, making him into a mindless ravening animal.

Failing to kill and eat Eliza had come with a cost… and for the first time he realised that this was more than just in his head. The result of killing and eating Adlen had been very very real.

He just didn't know why… or maybe he did. When he had died at the bottom of the lake he had physically and otherwise left part of himself on the shore, part of himself left with his murderers. He wasn't whole, and because he wasn't whole he was struggling with whatever he had become.

He didn't have to experience it to know next time he was ravenous it would be that much harder to remain in control.

Lyra stared up at Rain, a clearly distressed Rain. How had she not noticed it yet? He was… genuinely upset.

"Uhm, I didn't mean too…"

"It's… fine. I put you up to all of this, I made you take us in there."

Lyra made an unhappy expression. It was weird feeling guilty for something she didn't remember doing, or at least only very barely. As they had spoken memories had started to seep back a little, being flirted with by various horny lapine, the elf with the red eyes, water everywhere, and then the knife in… Eliza's heart?

…Come to think of it, that had happened to Wranvyre as well.

She held up her hand and the knife materialised in it. It was a simple but intimidating thing, the blade and hilt all of the same piece of metal with wrapped black leather for grip.

Otherwise it was unremarkable. Even its reflection only reflected her own visage.

A small green hand reached out and snatched it.

"Hey!"

"You twigged it too, didn't you? Your weird ass knife vanishes corpses when stabbed to death in the heart."

"If you must know, yes. It's— I didn't know it could do that."

"So why does it do that?"

"Obviously its some magical acid the blade is able to conjure, a thing designed to hide bodies after assassination, obviously."

But then there was that half recalled dream, the memory of it already slipping between Lyra's fingers.

Opal flipped the knife over and hummed as she examined it.

"An unknown dangerous spicy knife. Yep, you'd best give it to me for safekeeping as the armourer of pointies."

Lyra scowled and gestured at the air. The blade disappeared from Opal's hand and appeared back in Lyra's hand.

"Hey!"

"What do you mean hey? This is my knife!"

Opal lunged for it, her pregnancy crashing into Lyra and the weight of it knocking her back in Rain's lap.

She successfully wrestled the knife from Lyra.

"I'm responsible for all the sharp stuff so you should give it to—"

Lyra grabbed for it and their hands collided, the knife went spinning free before thumping into the floor point first a few feet from Pickle who was climbing down from the nearby bed. The small goat girl eyed the knife warily, then she took a step toward it, reaching out a paw, clearly curious.

"Nope!" said Lyra, the blade vanishing and reappearing in her hand. She struggled up from Rain's lap still only in her bra and panties. "Pregnant people and children shouldn't be playing with dangerous things."

She stalked over to the nearest set of drawers and yanked open the top draw, quickly burying the knife amongst her spare garments and sheep themed pyjamas.

Just before the knife disappeared beneath the cloth, the reflection, just for a moment, was of a face other than her own.

She paused, unsure of what it was she had caught out of the corner of her eye. Just her imagination? But that face… Surely the guilt of becoming a murderer of levelers and not just monsters was starting to get to her,  driving her mad, her moral framework coming apart, her world view… everything was fractured and she stood alone on crumbling ground.

She found she didn't want to think about it.

Turning back she found Pickle and Kala had found a distraction. Red had finally lost patience and thieved their tiaras then fled with them, holding both tiaras down on his own head.

A furious Pickle and Kala, now allied, raced after him, scrambling under the beds or bouncing over top as the gold obsessed kobold tried to escape with his loot.

Lyra was about to turn back to Rain, perhaps to snuggle in his lap, when she heard a cry of alarm from the ongoing chase.

Pickle came rolling head over heels out from under one of the beds wrapped around something, something round and white and bony.

The goat girl came to a stop with a skull upside down in front of her, its eyes aflame with green.

"What is the meaning of this!" cried Vash.

Lyra drew in a breath and turned on Rain and Opal.

"What did you let him out forrrr!"

Opal scratched her nose.

"We didn't let him out. He just turned up back here on his own because you were so drunk out of your head that you left him behind at the party. You didn't have your woolspace open while you slept so…"

"So you should have hid him then!" whisper hissed Lyra, "They've seen him, they've seen the freaking necromancer that was never supposed to be seen!"

Opal sniffed, "I did hide him. Under a bed."

Lyra put her hands to her head as she watched Pickle and Kala examine the upside down talking skull.

After a moment Pickle picked Vash up, still upside down, and wandered over to Rain.

"Friend?" she asked, holding a sputtering Vash up.

"No, this one's name is Boner," said Opal confidently.

"B-oner." said Pickle slowly, as though permanently memorising the name in indelible ink.

"Y-You said you wouldn't call me that any more!" shrieked Vash.

Opal tilted her head, "I'm not though, she is."

"Boner!" exclaimed Pickle. Yes, this simple one word name fit well into her vocabulary, and truly this thing was made of bone. Yes it was a very good name.

A strangled sound of frustration came from Vash, and then he finally snapped.

"This— all this playing around, acting like nothing happened, this idiocy! You don't know, you don't know, none of you know!"

"What's got you so sulky?" yawned Opal flopping into Rain's lap. "We all made it out didn't we?"

"You saw her yourself! The red eyed elf, Sombur! My master from when I was alive!"

There was a collective pause in the room, even Pickle and her siblings seemed to think this was of some gravitas, of what gravitas they had no idea, but it sounded important.

"Who are you talking about? Murmer? And didn't you die… a long time ago?" said Rain.

"Hah, Is that what she goes by now? And yes, centuries ago! Yet she hasn't aged a day! She's escaped death, she shouldn't- she shouldn't be alive!"

Rain rubbed the bridge of his nose and frowned.

"And she was your master, you, the so-called famous necromancer?"

"...She was the one who supported me when I found myself with one of the most hated Classes, she encouraged me. I would never have become the greatest necromancer of my century without her, the greatest summoner of my century."

Opal wriggled in Rain's lap. "So? Isn't that a good thing? You can tell her to piss off if she bothers us."

"T-Tell her to-, no you don't understand. I was great in my time, and so was she. I died, I lost my Class, I became a Classless undead, but she, she lived on, lived for centuries more, and all this time she… has been levelling."

"If she is that powerful then why isn't she the Ranker of this city?"

"Because she's already been that! She quit as Ranker of Florens in my time, she grew bored of it! If she wanted to be Ranker, Ranker of any city, I have no doubt she could become so. She never stopped in all the time I knew her, never stopped seeking levels, power, and powerful new summons. I fear the very thought of what she has become…" The skull somehow managed to physically shudder despite being just a skull.

Rain tilted his head to the side and frowned. "How does this matter to me?"

"Sombur is the most powerful leveller currently in Florens without a shadow of a doubt, and just as she poached from me in my century for her menagerie she will seek to poach you from me now, she will try to take you from me. You've foolishly attracted the attention of a leveller more dangerous than any other in this accursed city and put your bright future as my undead servant at risk!"