Chapter 5

The forest enveloped Akame and Aragon in a lush embrace as they traversed its verdant depths. Towering trees, their canopies forming a vast and intricate network, cast dappled shadows on the forest floor. Sunlight filtered through the emerald foliage, creating a mesmerising play of light and shadow. The air carried the earthy fragrance of moss and the sweet perfume of wildflowers, creating an intoxicating blend that hung in the tranquil atmosphere.

Aragon moved with a regal grace, his hooves making a soft, rhythmic melody against the underbrush. His jet-black mane danced with the breeze, echoing the rustle of leaves overhead. Akame sat atop him, a figure of quiet elegance, her eyes absorbing the serene beauty that surrounded them.

The forest seemed to stretch endlessly, revealing hidden glades and babbling brooks that whispered secrets of ancient tales. Shafts of sunlight created golden pathways through the foliage, illuminating patches of vibrant wildflowers that added splashes of colour to the green canvas.

As Akame and Aragon continued their journey, the forest unfolded like a living tapestry. Birds flitted between branches, their melodic songs harmonizing with the rustle of leaves. The air held a gentle hum, a symphony of nature's own making.

Akame, typically composed, allowed a rare hint of admiration to grace her expression. The beauty of the forest, combined with the rhythmic gait of Aragon beneath her, created a moment of serene tranquillity in their journey through the enchanting woodlands.

For Akame, every stride through the forest felt like a journey through time. The air, infused with the fragrance of earth and the whispering secrets of the trees, carried a timeless wisdom. In this serene enclave, Akame experienced a rare moment of peace, as if the forest itself cradled her in the embrace of ages gone by. Riding through the heart of the ancient woods with Aragon felt like a communion with the echoes of history, a fleeting yet profound connection with the essence of time itself.

As the day wore on, Akame felt the need for respite from the ceaseless journey through the enchanting forest. A secluded stream, hidden among ancient trees, beckoned Akame to take a moment to immerse herself in the stillness of the surroundings.

Guiding Aragon with a gentle touch, she led him to the stream's edge. The water flowed with a serene cadence, creating a calming symphony that echoed through the woodland. Aragon lowered his majestic head to drink from the crystal-clear stream, a testament to the untouched beauty of this natural sanctuary.

Captivated by the scene, Akame decided to make the most of the picturesque setting. She found a comfortable spot by the water, where the gentle ripples played a soothing melody. The forest, alive with the whispers of leaves and the songs of unseen birds, provided a serene backdrop for her impromptu break.

In her travel-worn crates, Akame located a wooden box containing dried black tea leaves. The simplicity of the wooden tea set mirrored the natural elegance of the forest that surrounded her. Taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings, she decided to indulge in the age-old ritual of preparing tea.

Aragon, content from his drink, stood beside Akame as she arranged the tea set on a flat rock. She had found the tea set among the other possessions in the wagon, it seemed like the Lord was nice enough to provide her with her favourite beverage. Akame carefully measured the tea leaves, allowing their earthy aroma to meld with the crisp forest air.

As the tea brewed, she started to admire her very surrounding, appreciating the artistry of nature and the simple pleasure of a calming tea break. The fragrance of the black tea, carried by the gentle breeze, intertwined with the scent of moss and wildflowers, creating a sensory that wrapped Akame in a cocoon of peace.

Seated by the stream, with Aragon as her companion and the forest as her witness, Akame savoured the rejuvenating elixir. The stream continued its melodic journey, and time seemed to slow, offering a reprieve from the complexities of her existence in this mysterious world.

The lone solider cradled the wooden teacup in her hands, watching while the surrounding forest came alive with the symphony of nature. Birds of various hues flitted among the branches, their melodic tweets creating a harmonious backdrop to the babbling stream. The rustle of leaves overhead hinted at unseen creatures moving through the ancient woodland, each contributing to the vibrant tapestry of life.

Aragon, who stood nearby, contentedly grazed nearby, occasionally lifting his head to survey their serene surroundings. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm and golden glow that danced upon the treetops, creating an ethereal ambiance.

Akame, with her striking features accentuated by the softening sunlight, exuded an air of peace. Her jet-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, catching the breeze in a graceful dance. The sunlight played with the strands, creating an interplay of shadow and light. Her red-ruby eyes, framed by a sense of introspection, observed the forest with a calm intensity.

Taking a sip of the brewed tea, Akame displayed a practiced grace. The wooden cup felt warm in her hands, radiating the comforting heat of the tea. The rich aroma of the black tea mingled with the earthy scents of the forest.

A soft smile graced Akame's lips as she savoured the flavour, allowing the essence of the tea to soothe her senses. The subtle symphony of the forest, accompanied by the rhythmic flow of the stream, provided a backdrop to her tranquil tea-drinking ritual. In this peaceful interlude, surrounded by the beauty of nature, Akame found solace in the simplicity of the moment, embracing the harmony between herself, Aragon, and the timeless forest that cradled them in its embrace.

She let out a satisfied sigh, "What good tea."

Akame, lost in the contemplation of her tea, found herself captivated by the rich, mahogany hue of the liquid. The warm, amber tones reflected the dying embers of sunlight filtering through the forest canopy, creating an almost ethereal glow. As she peered into the tea, the surface became a mirror, capturing the essence of the moment and mirroring her own thoughtful gaze.

In the delicate dance of light upon the liquid's surface, Akame caught a glimpse of her own reflection. Her red-ruby eyes, pools of introspection, stared back at her from the tea's reflective surface. The black and white attire she wore, adorned with bronze Chinese dragons, added a touch of exotic elegance to the scene.

Lost in the tranquil ambiance, Akame let her mind wander. The idea of cultivating her own tea leaves sparked a glimmer of interest. A small patch of land, carefully tended and nurtured, could become a sanctuary amidst the unfamiliar landscapes of this new world. The thought of creating a serene space, surrounded by tea bushes swaying in the breeze, appealed to her sense of solitude.

However, as she entertained the notion, a practical challenge emerged. Where would she find the seeds for these tea plants? The realisation struck her, and a wry smile played on her lips. In a world so different from her own, acquiring tea seeds wasn't as simple as a trip to the local market.

Akame chuckled at the irony of her musings. It seemed that, despite her yearning for a quiet life, the practicalities of this fantastical world presented their own set of challenges. The notion of divine providence providing her with tea seeds became a whimsical fantasy. Still, as she sipped the last remnants of her tea, Akame couldn't help but find amusement in the unpredictable new life that lay ahead.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest floor, an eerie stillness descended upon the woodland. The once vibrant symphony of nature fell silent, the melodic tunes of the birds abruptly halting as if snuffed out by an invisible force. Even the incessant chirping of insects ceased, leaving behind an unsettling quiet.

Aragon, the noble steed beneath Akame, registered the sudden change in the environment. His ears, usually perked attentively, now twitched, and swivelled with unease. The majestic creature shifted its weight from hoof to hoof, the air around him vibrating with a sense of restlessness. His large, intelligent eyes, usually calm and observant, now betrayed a subtle hint of anxiety.

Akame's heightened senses caught the subtle sounds of approaching footsteps, the snap of twigs, and the muffled whispers of the intruders. She, though surrounded by the palpable tension, remained an epitome of composure. She continued to sip her tea; her red-ruby eyes focused on the darkening forest.

The stillness seemed to magnify Akame's senses. She side-glanced without moving her head, scanning the periphery with a heightened awareness. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, a silent indicator of an imminent presence. A calm breeze rustled the leaves overhead, yet the silence persisted, emphasizing the unnatural shift in the forest's mood.

Despite the unspoken threat lingering in the air, Akame's countenance remained stoic. The wooden teacup in her hands felt warm against her palms, a grounding anchor in the midst of an unseen disturbance. The reflections in her red-ruby eyes betrayed no hint of fear or surprise, only a quiet acknowledgment of the shifting dynamics around her.

In the midst of this eerie calm, the forest held its breath, as if awaiting a signal. The tension hung in the air like a veil, and Akame, attuned to the subtle nuances of her surroundings, waited patiently for the inevitable revelation of whatever unseen presence had disrupted the natural order of the woods.

In the eerie hush of the forest, Akame's heightened senses came alive, transforming her into a vigilant sentinel attuned to the subtlest disturbances. Her ears, modified and enhanced through gene manipulation, serums, and liquids injected before and after birth, functioned like a finely tuned auditory monitor.

The intruders, though attempting to conceal their approach, failed to elude Akame's acute sense of hearing. The forest, once silent, now revealed their presence through the cacophony of their poorly muffled footsteps. Each step resonated like a drumbeat, a discordant rhythm disturbing the natural harmony of the woods. The crunching of leaves and twigs underfoot became an unintentional announcement, loud and conspicuous.

She could even hear their ragged breathing. The forest seemed to amplify their every breath, turning their attempts at stealth into a dissonant symphony that only heightened Akame's awareness.

Hushed whispers, furtive and indistinct, reached Akame's ears. The conspiratorial exchange, though intended to remain clandestine, echoed through the shadows like a series of murmured secrets. Akame, unfazed by the attempts at subtlety, effortlessly discerned the whispered words. Her mind catalogued the snippets of conversation, revealing glimpses of their intentions and motivations.

As the intruders drew nearer, Akame's red-ruby eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Her focus intensified, scanning the surroundings with a predatory precision. The gene enhancements that shaped her senses made her an unparalleled monitor of her environment; an organic surveillance system finely tuned to detect even the slightest deviations.

Despite the potential threat, Akame's countenance remained composed. The teacup in her hands, a seemingly inconspicuous accessory, contrasted with the charged atmosphere. It was as if she had become an integral part of the forest, a silent guardian attuned to the unseen ebb and flow of life around her.

As the intrusive presence in the forest drew closer, Akame's stoic demeanour remained unshaken. Her red-ruby eyes, reflecting an inner calm, betrayed no flicker of fear or concern. The footsteps, the heavy breathing, the whispered conversations—all were perceived through senses honed by gene enhancements, serums, and liquids injected before and after her birth.

These intruders, wielding nothing more than swords and arrows, seemed primitive in comparison to the adversaries she was created to face. The memory of modern-day weaponry and the formidable Nebula weapon lingered in the recesses of her mind, contrasting sharply with the antiquated armaments of this world. Akame, designed and trained for battles that transcended the limitations of conventional weaponry, found little reason for apprehension.

Her confidence stemmed not just from the enhanced physical attributes she possessed but also from the mental fortitude instilled in her through rigorous training. The intruders, though undoubtedly a threat to the tranquillity of the forest, appeared inconsequential in the face of Akame's experience and capabilities.

Akame, unfazed by the intrusion, awaited the inevitable revelation of the people. In the grand tapestry of her existence, this encounter seemed but a minor disturbance—an insignificant ripple in the calm waters of her resolve.

It wasn't seconds after as each one had emerged from the trees, their dishevelled appearances reflecting a life of hardship and toil. Dirty and covered in grime, their clothes hung loosely on their emaciated frames. Long, unkempt beards framed their leering faces, and their tangled hair spoke of a lack of care. The stench of sweat and filth clung to them, assaulting Akame's heightened senses with an almost palpable force.

As they approached, their malicious chuckles filled the air, a discordant counterpoint to the serenity of the forest. The leader, a particularly sinister-looking figure, stepped forward with a twisted grin on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he sneered, his voice laced with crude amusement. The others joined in, their laughter echoing through the trees. "A little lady all alone in the woods. What's a lonely girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Akame's nostrils twitched involuntarily at the overpowering odour that accompanied their presence. Her red eyes narrowed, a mixture of disdain and readiness flashing in her gaze. She maintained her seated position, her composure unwavering despite the crude remarks.

"A pretty little one, ain't it lads. Whose gonna have a taste of her first?" another one jeered, licking his dried lips while he pointed his blade at her.

The leader, a malicious glint in his eyes, stepped in closer, his breath rancid. His hands came down to his pants "Why don't I? I'll tell ya if she is good or not. If not, I'll just keep fucking her until she is ready for the next one if us lads."

A malicious grin played on their faces as they exchanged lewd glances, revelling in their perceived advantage.

However, to their unexpected response, Akame maintained her serene composure, seemingly unaffected by the crude remarks and malicious laughter that surrounded her. The intruders, their frustration growing, exchanged glances as their attempts to elicit fear or panic went unanswered. The leader's twisted grin faltered for a moment, replaced by a growing irritation.

"What's the matter, girl? Cat got your tongue?" he snarled, his tone turning more sinister. The others chimed in with mocking laughter, their attempts to rattle her met with stoic indifference.

Akame continued to sip her tea. The leader, unable to bear the silence, took a step closer, his voice dripping with cruelty.

"Bitch thinks she can try to act tough by ignoring us, aye. Sipping on whatever your drinking."

When Akame didn't respond nor acknowledged him, he threw in more insults. "I'll give ya something to sip on whore!"

Akame's red eyes flickered with a subtle glint of disdain and she side longed to the man who jumped with surprise as seeing her cold stoic red eyes gleamed a death stare at him. He seemed as if he was paralysed by just laying his eyes on her ruby orbs.

Then a smug grin crossed his lustful expression.

"Haven't seen ya type before betting you will do wonders if I shove this pretty cock up, ya cunt" he sneered, a sinister undertone to his words. The others laughed, their crude comments echoing through the forest. "Give you a nice warming welcome."

Akame's expression remained unchanged as she took another measured sip of her tea. She wasn't surprised by any of this. Men were all just lustful, incompetent ass holes who have nothing better to do then shove their penises into holes they shouldn't.

Well not all men, just some. But these ones, they come under those men.

"Bet she's never seen real men before." The others, their expressions mirroring the leader's perverse excitement, joined in with lewd suggestions and crude comments.

Their laughter intensified, a cacophony of cruelty that reverberated through the trees. Akame, her red eyes fixed on the steam rising from her cup, gave no indication of acknowledgment.

"The whores gonna be fucked once we are done" another one taunted, his voice dripping with insinuation.

Despite the escalating nature of their comments, Akame remained unmoved.

The leader, growing impatient with Akame's silence, turned his attention to Aragon, the majestic black stallion that stood nearby, calmly grazing on the forest floor. "Well look at here. A fine-looking horse, if I say so myself," he jeered, his eyes lingering on Aragon with a predatory glint.

One of the lackeys chimed in, a malicious smirk playing on his lips. "Another beauty aye? Maybe we should take this beauty for ourselves as well. A steed like this could fetch a good price in the right market. Or," he added with a crude chuckle, "we could have ourselves a feast tonight. Horse meat ain't too bad."

The others laughed, the suggestion of cruelty hanging in the air. Akame's gaze shifted ever so slightly, a subtle warning in her eyes. Aragon, sensing the tension, snorted and pawed the ground.

Ignoring their insinuations about her companion, the leader turned his attention to Akame's katana, the black and red blade that hung at her side. He sneered, "What's with that fancy piece of metal? Looks more like a toy than a weapon. Did the blacksmith mess up while he was drunk?"

Another lackey chimed in, "Yeah, probably some drunk fool tried to forge a sword and ended up with that curved mess. Look at it! It's all twisted and weird."

Their laughter echoed through the forest, a cruel symphony that resonated with the shadows. The leader continued, "I bet you can't even use it properly. Probably just swings it around thinking it makes her look tough."

Akame finally spoke, her voice steady and measured. "Aren't you right" she said sarcastically as she took another sip of her tea.

The leader, unimpressed, sneered. "She finally speaks. Thought I was gonna have mute for a whore."

The lackey who had mocked the sword took a closer look and, to his surprise, noticed the intricate craftsmanship. "Wait a minute," he muttered, his tone shifting from mockery to reluctant admiration. "This ain't like any sword I've seen before."

The others fell silent, a moment of realisation dawning on them. The leader, though trying to mask his curiosity, couldn't help but admit, "Maybe the blacksmith wasn't so drunk after all. That sword... it's something else. Nothing like in Westeros."

"Whatever it is we can sell it for a good price. Don't ya lads agree?"

As Akame finished the last sip of her tea, she set the empty cup down with a deliberate calmness. The leader, emboldened by the apparent vulnerability of her actions, let out a mocking chuckle, echoed by the others.

With a swift, side-glancing motion, Akame's red eyes bore into them, cold and unyielding. Her voice cut through the forest air like a blade, crisp and unwavering.

"You done? Because I'm done from listening to you all. Although, I mostly zoned out the moment shit started to fall from your mouths" she said bluntly.

"This little whore" one spat out disgustingly.

Akame with a clam expression swiftly raised her hand and pointed at the leader. "Consider this your only warning. Piss off ass hole or this curved sword would go right through your unholy ass crack."

There was a brief silent of complete shock before they erupted into laughter, the forest echoing with their mockery. "Look at the little girl trying to be tough! Trying to scare us with her little toy. That thin sword isn't going to do shit" the leader taunted.

Akame, her expression unchanged, stood gracefully. Her hand rested on the hilt of her katana, a silent promise of the storm that could ensue. "I see how it is" she sighed. "Fine. You had been warned" she stated, her voice holding a glacial edge.

The intruders, still dismissive, exchanged smirks and crude remarks about the audacity of a lone woman challenging them. Unbeknownst to them, Akame's movements were calculated, her senses attuned to the rhythm of the forest and the intentions of those around her.

As the leader took a step forward, a single, fluid motion unfolded. The black and red katana left its sheath, slicing through the air with deadly precision. The forest fell silent as the blade shimmered, its curved form dancing with lethal grace.

The mocking laughter ceased abruptly as the intruders realised the gravity of their miscalculation. Akame, the embodiment of controlled power, moved with a speed that belied her apparent stillness. The leader's eyes widened in terror as the blade neared, and the others recoiled in disbelief.

In the space of a heartbeat, the forest witnessed justice swift and unyielding and watched as the head of the leader fell to the ground. He crumpled to the ground, blood oozing out like an erupted volcano from its clean sliced neck.

The others, frozen in shock, stared at their fallen comrade on sheer horror.

Enraged by the swift justice dealt to their leader, the remaining intruders charged at Akame with their swords and axes ready to slash, their anger fuelling a reckless determination. However, their attempts to overpower her proved futile as she moved with an otherworldly grace.

The first assailant lunged forward, wielding a crude weapon with a wild swing. Akame sidestepped effortlessly, her movements almost dance-like as she expertly dodged the attack. In a swift counter, her katana sliced through the air, and the first intruder crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering beside him.

The others, undeterred by the fate of their comrade, pressed on with a frenzy of attacks. Akame, like a shadow in the moonlight, seamlessly evaded their strikes, her red eyes focused and unyielding. With calculated precision, her katana met each oncoming assault, the blade singing through the air with a lethal melody.

One by one, the men fell, their crude weapons proving no match for the fluid mastery of Akame's movements. The forest, witness to this symphony of combat, seemed to hold its breath as the black-clad warrior moved with a grace that defied the brutality of the confrontation.

The anger that had fuelled the attackers turned to fear as they realised the futility of their efforts. Akame moved like a spectre among them, her katana an extension of her will, bringing swift justice to those who had dared to disturb her.

As the last man crumpled to the ground, defeated, and humbled, Akame stood amidst the fallen, her red eyes surveying the aftermath. With an almost imperceptible sigh, she took a step back from the defeated assailants, her gaze fixed on the black and red katana in her hand.

In a single, fluid motion, she brought the blade up, the metal gleaming in the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. With a rapid swing, she flicked the katana through the air, the momentum shedding the blood that clung to its surface. Droplets scattered like crimson blossoms, falling to the forest floor in a silent acknowledgment of the violence that had transpired.

As the last vestiges of blood left the blade, Akame's movements became almost ceremonial. The katana, now cleansed, returned to its sheath with a precision that echoed the centuries-old discipline of samurai warriors. The metallic whisper as the blade slid into its scabbard resonated through the forest.

Akame's posture remained unchanged, a silent figure in the aftermath of conflict. Her red eyes held a solemnity that transcended the physical battle, a reflection of the weight she carried from a world scarred by war.

In the aftermath of the swift confrontation, Akame stood amidst the fallen, an enigmatic figure amid the bodies that formed pools of crimson on the once-green grass. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, a testament to the violence that had unfolded in the serene forest.

Her black kimono, now stained with the remnants of the skirmish, hung loosely on her figure. The long mae-migoro, with its slit on the side, swayed gently in the breeze, a macabre dance with the shadows that played across the clearing.

Her red and black katana, now cleansed and sheathed, hung at her waist, a silent reminder of the lethal dance it had performed moments ago. The intricate bronze Chinese dragons embroidered on her sleeves seemed to come alive in the muted light, coiling and uncoiling as if mirroring the violence that had transpired.

Akame's red eyes, once sharp and focused, now held an emptiness, a soullessness that bore witness to the countless battles she had fought and the darkness she had confronted. They stared impassively at the fallen, devoid of remorse or pity, like windows into a void untouched by the brutality of the world.

The stillness of the clearing contrasted with the chaos that had unfolded moments ago. The forest, now shrouded in a heavy silence, seemed to await its verdict from the heartless figure standing amidst the aftermath. The once-lush grass beneath her feet now bore the weight of the fallen, the bodies leaving pools of blood behind.

Aragon, the black stallion, stood at a distance, his gaze fixed on Akame with a mix of familiarity and respect.

With an eerie calmness, Akame walked back to her previous spot, the grass beneath her feet damp with the blood of those who had challenged her. The world seemed to exhale as she settled back onto the moss-covered rock.

Casually, she reached for the tea set, pouring the steaming liquid into the cup with a steady hand. The delicate aroma of the freshly brewed tea wafted through the clearing, a stark contrast to the lingering scent of violence that clung to the air.

The black and red katana, now sheathed and cleansed, rested at her side. Akame's movements were deliberate, devoid of haste or hesitation. She took a sip from the cup, the warmth of the tea offering a strange juxtaposition to the cool demeanour she maintained.

As if the confrontation had been nothing more than a brief interruption, Akame continued to drink her tea.

Aragon, the black stallion, approached cautiously, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Akame acknowledged his presence with a subtle nod, her attention momentarily diverted from the steaming cup in her hands.

As Akame calmly resumed her drinking her tea, the pungent scent of those filthy men began to infiltrate the tranquillity of the clearing. The once-subtle aroma of the brewing tea now found itself in competition with the sickening stench emanating from the fallen intruders.

Akame's stoic expression faltered for the briefest of moments as she brought the cup to her lips. The offensive odour reached her heightened senses, momentarily disrupting the serene tableau she had crafted. A subtle crease formed on her brow, betraying the underlying discomfort caused by the gruesome aftermath.

She took a hesitant sip, her red eyes narrowing in response to the juxtaposition of the calming tea and the repugnant smell.

A low growl of frustration escaped Akame's lips as she set the cup down, her gaze returning to the dead intruders.

Unable to ignore the repulsive smell any longer, Akame stood up. She cast a disapproving glance at the fallen bodies, muttering under her breath, "Foolish men, even in death, your presence is unbearable." The words, spoken more to the forest than to the lifeless forms, hung in the air like a quiet lament.

In a swift and fluid motion, she gathered her tea set and moved to a different spot, a few paces away from the grim aftermath. The smell, though slightly diminished, lingered like a haunting echo. Akame, now at a more acceptable distance, resumed pouring her tea and continued drinking her black tea.

An hour had passed and she concluded her tea-drinking and began to pack away.

The forest around her underwent a breathtaking transformation. The hues of the sky shifted gracefully as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting its golden glow across the landscape.

The once vibrant green canopy overhead took on warmer tones, the leaves catching the last rays of daylight like jewels adorning the branches. Shadows lengthened on the forest floor, weaving a tapestry of intricate patterns beneath the towering trees.

The sky, a canvas of evolving colours, transitioned from a soft, ethereal blue to a palette of warm oranges and fiery reds. Wisps of clouds caught the fading sunlight, painting streaks of pink and purple against the darkening canvas. The air, crisp and cool, carried the whispers of the approaching night.

As Akame meticulously cleaned her tea set, the forest around her became a silent spectator to the celestial spectacle. The sun, now a mere sliver above the distant hills, bathed the landscape in a final burst of radiance before surrendering to the impending night.

Aragon, the black stallion, stood nearby, his silhouette framed by the mixture of colours in the sky. The rustling leaves seemed to echo the quiet admiration of the unfolding beauty, as if the very essence of the forest paused to pay homage to the celestial ballet.

Akame, though immersed in her tasks, stole glances at the masterpiece above. And so, as the last embers of daylight flickered and faded, Akame finished packing away the stuff, carefully putting away the wooden box of dried tea leaves away so that it wouldn't fall and spill the only beverage she has.

When the lone solider had finished putting away the tea set, the night sky was already filled with many stars and she glanced up, her red eyes reflecting the shiny specks of light.

In the quiet of the night with the only the night creatures scuttering or rustling, Akame's mind wrestled with a decision. Should she press on through the night, or should she find a suitable spot to rest until the morning light?

After a moment of contemplation, Akame murmured to herself, "To keep going or to rest, it hardly matters." Her voice, soft yet resolute, carried a hint of detachment, a reminder of the unique nature that defined her existence.

Aragon, as if attuned to her thoughts, nuzzled against her shoulder, his silent companionship offering a reassuring presence.

Akame, despite the picturesque scene unfolding before her, felt no physical weariness. She was a living weapon, a testament to the advancements of science and the sacrifices made in the pursuit of power.

With the moon above the sky, shining it's natural glow, Akame decided to continue her journey through the night. The forest, now enveloped in the velvety embrace of darkness, became her realm once more. She mounted Aragon with a fluid grace, her hand reaching the reins before giving the black stallion a gentle pat.

"Lead the way" she spoke softly to Aragon in which he responded with a step of his hooves.

As they continued their journey through the night, the stars above began to twinkle, casting their ethereal light upon the silent landscape.

Akame and Aragon delved deeper into the shroud of night, the forest became a labyrinth of shadows. Akame, with her enhanced night vision, moved with an uncanny ease through the darkness. To ease Aragon's journey through the obsidian expanse, Akame extended her palm, summoning a flicker of flame. Fire, a primal force, danced in her grasp, casting an otherworldly glow that illuminated the surroundings. The warm hues of the flames painted the trees in fleeting shadows, revealing the mysterious beauty of the nocturnal realm.

Aragon, grateful for the gentle illumination, followed the trail of fire as it bobbed and weaved with Akame's movements.

Akame's fire magic, harnessed with a practiced ease, created an ethereal torch that cut through the night like a beacon. The forest, now alive with the mesmerizing dance of shadows and fire, embraced the duo as they traversed the labyrinthine trails.

The ambient sounds of the night became a symphony, blending with the rhythmic hoofbeats and the crackle of the magical flame. Akame, her red eyes ablaze with an inner light, guided Aragon with a silent understanding, navigating the forest through the eternal night.

As they ventured deeper into the heart of the nocturnal forest, the firelight revealed glimpses of creatures that stirred in the shadows—night owls taking flight, and elusive creatures of the dark retreating from the intrusion of the enchanted torch.

Just like the day, the forest was in enchanting trace in the night. Akame was mesmerised by its beauty. She doesn't know if it's the ancient feeling to it or that it's just her but she never seen forests as beautiful as this in her world.

It's when a hauntingly beautiful melody began to emanate from Akame's lips. The lullaby she hummed held a timeless quality; its origins lost in the recesses of her memory. Yet, the haunting notes carried an echo of familiarity, a connection that transcended the bounds of her conscious understanding.

The soft hum, a gentle counterpoint to the rhythmic sounds of their nocturnal travel, wove through the air like a spectral presence. Akame's red eyes, still ablaze with an inner light, held a distant gaze as if peering into the depths of her own past.

The lullaby, a tender refrain of unknown origins, seemed to cradle the night in its melancholic embrace. Its lilting cadence echoed between the ancient trees, a melody that whispered through the foliage and danced with the shadows cast by Akame's magical flame.

Akame hummed softly, the melody carried with it a poignant sense of nostalgia. She couldn't quite place the origin of the lullaby, but it resonated with a deeper understanding, a connection to a past she had glimpsed through the haze of the serums that had shaped her.

In the midst of the nocturnal journey, Akame found solace in the timeless melody. The lullaby, a thread connecting her to a distant past, echoed through the forest, carrying with it the weight of memories only she could decipher. And so, in the embrace of the night, Akame hummed the forgotten lullaby, a testament to the enigmatic tapestry of her existence woven by serums and secrets.

Akame continued her nocturnal journey, the echoes of the lullaby lingered in the air, a spectral companion to her contemplative thoughts. The forest, enshrouded in the soft glow of the magical flame, seemed to hush in deference to the musings of its enigmatic guardian.

Her mind, momentarily drawn from the path ahead, delved into the labyrinth of noble houses she had encountered in the journal. The Targaryen's, with their complex and often troubling ancestry, emerged as a puzzle she wished to forget. Their tangled web of relationships and intermarriages left an unsettling imprint on her thoughts.

Turning her attention to other prominent houses, Akame pondered the Stark's, known for their stoic resilience and connection to the North. The Baratheon's, marked by their prowess in battle, and the Tully's, guardians of the Riverlands, occupied her contemplations. The Lannister's, synonymous with wealth and political manoeuvring, stirred thoughts of power dynamics and hidden agendas.

The Martell's, hailing from the sultry Dorne, and the Tyrell's, masters of the fertile Reach, introduced a different flavour to the intricate tapestry of Westeros. Akame wondered about alliances and rivalries, the shifting allegiances that dictated the fate of the noble houses.

While she rode through the night, Akame couldn't escape the curiosity about the current state of these ancient houses. Were they still entrenched in their power struggles, or had the passage of time ushered in unforeseen changes? The journal, while providing a glimpse into their histories, left the present fate of these houses shrouded in mystery.

The question of extinction lingered in Akame's mind. Had any of these noble houses met their end, their names lost to the annals of history?

She thought to herself a little but then remembered she didn't give two fucks about neither of them.

The rhythmic gait of Aragon carried them through the night, Akame felt a moment of peace settle over her. The lullaby, now a gentle hum in the background, seemed to merge with the rhythmic hoofbeats, creating a harmonious melody that resonated through the forest.

Deciding to take a brief respite, Akame leaned back against Aragon, feeling the warmth of the black stallion against her back. With a subtle gesture, she released the magical flame from her palm, allowing it to hover above them like a luminous orb. The fire, now untethered, danced gracefully in the night air, casting an ethereal glow upon the duo.

Aragon, his ebony coat reflecting the ambient light, seemed to don a celestial aura in the presence of the levitating flame.

In a fluid motion, she extended her arms behind her neck, forming an improvised pillow. Her right leg swung lazily from side to side, while the other found a comfortable perch upon the saddle.

In this seemingly casual pose, Akame imitated the act of lying on the ground, gazing up at the night sky. The magical flame, flickering above her, cast a soft glow on her features, highlighting the redness of her eyes that reflected the starlit canvas above. The stars, like ancient storytellers, painted constellations that whispered tales of ages past.

The soft breeze carried with it the symphony of rustling leaves, blending with the hum of the lullaby that lingered in the air. Akame's red eyes, usually sharp and focused, softened as she immersed herself in the celestial ballet above.

Whilst gazing upwards and this moment of quiet reflection, Akame marvelled at the wonders above, finding solace in the simple act of gazing at the vastness of the universe.

What kind wonders this world held, she would think.

The night was long and Akame found herself gazing into the vastness of the night and contemplated the possibilities that awaited her. The unfamiliar terrain of this new world, coupled with the absence of a clear objective, left her in a contemplative state.

With a sigh that carried both resignation and acceptance, Akame muttered to herself, "Tomorrow... where do I even begin?" The words, uttered in the quiet of the night, hung in the air like a gentle plea for guidance.

In the absence of a clear path, Akame allowed herself a moment of vulnerability, acknowledging the uncertainty that shrouded her next steps. The question of what to do on the following day lingered in her mind like a nebulous mist. In the stillness of the night, Akame let out a bored sigh, her red eyes staring into the distance. Leaning against Aragon, she spoke with a hint of sarcasm and a touch of dry humour, as if sharing her thoughts with a companion who understood her unspoken language.

"Well, Aragon," she drawled, "seems like I've stumbled into a real puzzle here. No grand quests, no clear purpose. Just me and this ancient world. How thrilling."

Aragon, the ever-silent confidant, tilted his head as if acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. The hovering flame above cast shadows on Akame's face, emphasizing the sardonic curve of her lips.

Her mind continued to race with thoughts and ideas as it landed on one.

"So, I was thinking," she continued in a tone that dripped with sarcasm, "maybe I could start by finding myself some sort of job, like I don't know maybe just do favours for people for money. See what this so-called 'ancient world' has to offer a girl with no clear direction."

Akame then frowned as she remembered what timeline of the world she was thrown into, "If they are willing to hire a girl, if that is" she sneered bitterly knowing that men in ancient were all to stuck up to even consider having a woman do a job. They all saw them as the weaker sex, unable to do anything but be a cock warmer or baby making machine, especially during the ancient times. 

Their only job that was considered was either a maid, nanny, a mother, or worse a prostitute.

The lone solider felt disgusted just by the thought of having her body being used for pleasure by different men of all ages. She doesn't understand how women used to do it but it just disgust her thinking about it.

"I rather have a knife up my vagina than a strangers wrinkly dick up there."