Chapter 10 – Dumb and Dumber

In a dense forest almost 100 miles north of Chevalia, an enigmatic, young woman walked calmly through the vicious wilds. Her onyx-black hair styled in long twin tails swayed with the gentle wind as expectant dark brown eyes easily traced the tracks of her quarry. The absence of the moon's brilliant light did nothing to bar her path.

She had little difficulty navigating the tall brush as the path before her was matted down by repeated steps of large beings. This mostly served as a shortcut to seeing the tracks more easily as it didn't speed up her movement in any way. Not a single blade of grass touched her dragon hide boots as all brush within a few meters of her spontaneously ignited and was subsequently incinerated near-instantly. Neither the trees, insects, nor the brush beyond her radius was affected; it was only that which impeded her path.

Her mouth broadened into a wide grin. "I'm close. I can smell 'em. The rancid odor of wet dog is strong here."

She came here to find a specific tribe, to reap the harvest of a seed planted long ago. The vampires lived behind towering walls in homes styled after the fragile husks of Earth's modern age. They traded creativity for convenience and, rather than innovate new technologies of their own, they simply modified the wonders invented by their inferiors.

Did it work? Yes. Was it pathetic? Absolutely.

The tribe she was visiting was different. While they also borrowed from the mundane, they did so from an earlier age, the time before the mundane lost its splendor. Innovation in that way wasn't strictly necessary. Simpler solutions were all that was required as, in keeping a more primitive lifestyle, they kept the culture that interested her in the first place.

It wasn't ten minutes later when she found what she was looking for.

Large Teepees were arrayed in organized rows and columns beneath a tall tree canopy. They stood between 3-6 meters tall and double that wide made with, if she remembered correctly, dragon-horned bison hide. These were seasonal structures set up by the nomadic tribe that currently lived here. The camp was almost entirely cleared of brush and clearly leveled with earthen magic. Instead of wood, the teepees were made with super-hardened stone that was fused to the ground. Despite their primitive origin compared to the 'civilized' races, these were durable structures capable of easily withstanding the wind and rain.

A jolt of ecstasy ran up her spine as she passed by a ghost lantern, a subjugated phantasmal spirit in perpetual immolation; it a vampire in this case. To many, including the ones currently using it, it was just a floating, blue-tinted white fireball covered in the super dense web of a dread stalker spider. She though, heard in vivid clarity the screams of the immolating soul lighting this zone of the camp.

It brought her so much joy to see them dotting the camp with them. It was a symphony of screams that almost made staying focused on the task at hand difficult.

Just a little past the first lantern, she felt herself pass an invisible film.

*AWOOOO!!!!*

A powerful howl sounded in the camp, echoing across the forest. Then, multiple howls of varying pitches responded. She heard the shuffling of the grass as multiple large objects urgently rushed her way.

At first, she felt them out with mundane senses, seeing what others would feel in their presence. Nothing. Was the wind a little stronger than usual? Yes. Was the surrounding aether being displaced? Not to the degree that'd trip off their prey. If she weren't specially gifted and furnished with situational knowledge, that earlier howl and their physical approach would be her only way of perceiving them, a very dangerous prospect when so deep in their territory.

She was unfazed by the oncoming 'danger', instead pondering out loud, "Hmm… yes, this'll do. They've grown strong enough to be of use."

It wasn't more than a quiet mutter, but from the increase tension in her quarry, they must've been put on edge by her ominous words.

By now, she was surrounded. Whereas before, they were shadows; now, they were in the light of the ghost lantern.

She studied them with appraising eyes.

They were massive. Warg-born humanoids, or wargmen for short, covered in dark-colored fur. Their hunched, towering bodies were built with muscles that would make body builders jealous, glowing eyes like miniature full moons, powerful wolfen jaws that can easily split bone, and much more. They were glorious specimens, whose forms were designed to do little else but hunt and slaughter. These were the Hati, a powerful subspecies amongst the wargmen.

"You trespass into Waxing Fang Territory! Identify yourself, intruder!" A deep voice brashly demanded.

From the pack, a raven-furred Hati, much larger than the others stepped out. From the shine of his fur, and the lack of discernable battle wounds, this one was young. His power simply wasn't overwhelming enough for him to have hunted in the wider world and come out unscathed, nor would he seek to. Hati took pride in the battle wounds received from legacy-defining deathmatches. Most are healed, but at least one is made a permanent scar to commemorate the event. This boy's lack of them spoke volumes of his inexperience.

He was loud in everything he did. He wasn't hunched like many of the others, nor quiet. Instead, he stood before her with his chest out and shoulders back. Contempt was all she could find in his foolish eyes as they regarded her as an insignificant stranger.

'Must be the chieftain's son.' She immediately concluded. No other in a Hati tribe could hold such a position and be so weak.

Her eyes narrowed at the offending youngster. "Oh? Have you forgotten yourselves? No, have you forgotten the one you owe your current prosperity to?"

They should've recognized her. She'd ensured her storied been recorded and an appropriate tradition had been established to pass it down. While she didn't have the most distinguishable features, her magical signature should be enough for any experienced Hati to recognize her as a witch. The context clues could do the rest.

*Snarl*

Many among the pack snarled or snapped their jaws at her 'disrespect.' Her eyes swiveled, taking in the young pack that glared at her, eager to tear her limb from limb. There was no fear, no respect, and obviously no wisdom. When was the last time she'd seen so many youngsters beg for death?

Had the chieftain's son abandoned the old ways? Was this a rebellion?

The young man's eyes narrowed at the unexpected behavior. "Final warning girl." He approached her as if she were a child and got in her face, his snout just barely off her face. "Leave… or die."

*Puff* A powerful blast of air blew from his snout right into her face. Before it made contact though, the air stream ignited into a fireball that ran back up its travel path right into the boy's nose.

"AHHH!!!!!!" The wolf howled in agony as his nasal passages were lit in an agonizing blaze.

"Gaius!!!" "Dude!! "Lad!!" Cries of concern came from all sides. Any restraint that kept them in place vanished as fury consumed the tribe.

She was unconcerned, shaking her head at the upcoming pack of corpses. "Ismene was right…" Her dark brown eyes lit into a bright, fiery orange as the surrounding aether funneled into her like a whirlpool. "It's a fool's errand to waste words with ungrateful beasts. Better to cull them than waste the energy."

A shockwave blasted all of them away from her like feathers before a storm. She raised her index finger into the air and willed the aether to condense above it.

Her mouth twisted into its earlier manic grin. "Oh, well. I guess it wasn't meant to be!"

The pack's eyes widened in terror as they felt the torrent condense into a singular point, a miniature sun growing right above her delicate finger. The world grew cold as the aether trapped more and more heat within its all-consuming whirlpool. Not a hint of heat escaped to warn their senses of the incoming calamity. Their only means of discerning the true nature of the deceitfully chilling winds heralding their inevitable destruction was the literal sun blotting out their vision.

Their hearts dropped in their chests as the realization of the entity they'd provoked set in. Tears trickled for the less restrained, while a 'last stand' type courage blossomed for others. Still, even for the ones capable of mustering that final courage, it was all they could do to keep themselves from falling back on their butts.

Just as their would-be destroyer's hand began its descent, a grizzled cry boomed through the clearing, "Mercy!!!"

The woman paused just long enough for a Hati Warg as large as the earlier young leader to slide before her on his knees. Two dirt furrows trailed behind him as evidence of his landing force during his arrival. The man had literally launched himself into a full kneel from the beginning.

Her eyes squinted with appreciation at the rightful show of respect. She could tell; this one was much older than the rest. While the others had full coats of dark fur, this one's was peppered, reflecting his exceptionally old age. Combined with the extensive ledger of scars littering his fur, he was a much different breed than the boy.

Well, she knew exactly how experienced he was, after all…

"Lady Christina! I beg mercy of you! These idiots didn't know their place." He pleaded without any semblance of pride.

"Uncle!" The young leader from earlier stepped forward in outrage, immediately forgetting the crippling terror that'd necessitated the man's current groveling.

The elder's face snapped to his nephew with sun-scorching fury. "SHUT UP!!" His voice boomed in the clearing and into the forest beyond, causing the boy to flinch back. "You stand in the presence of our tribe's glorious patron, one among the divine trio who elevated us beyond mere wargmen."

The crowd quieted to a whisper as the boy's face paled to a greater degree than she thought possible for their species.

The elder slammed his fist into the ground. "What are you all waiting for!? Kneel!!"

The group stumbled to follow his instructions, finally free of the reveal's induced stupor. They groveled with heads pressed deep into the soil, none daring to say a word.

"Kasmourn." A reminiscent smile bloomed on her face as she regarded the elder kneeling before her. "Why don't you show me your home? I'm tired from my journey, and I would experience your people's bounties before discussing business."

He looked up with excited eyes. "With pleasure, my lady!" Shocking his nephew who sneakily looked up from the dirt his face was planted in.

The nephew could only look on in confusion. His uncle was the picture of courage and strength; the ideal he strived to achieve one day at the height of his days. Yet, here he was, a groveling puppy before this admittedly terrifying woman.

Christina, on the other hand, simply regarded the whole thing as natural and followed the elder into the camp. She found the whole thing funny actually.

She couldn't help but think, 'That woman's lucky I'm so well-connected. Otherwise, she'd be shit out of luck on the execution stand.' An unsettling grin bloomed on her face. 'Might as well go out with a bang. Better that than a whisper, right Drusilla?'

(With Leon and Shula)

Leon sat on his bed painfully nursing his wounds while Shula leaned on a nearby wall distracted by video shorts on her phone. It'd taken him an hour to fully regain consciousness and shake off the worst of his disorientation from that beatdown. It was in that hour that he learned for the first time just how great this new body was. Whereas, as a human, he would've been out for days, it'd only taken him an hour to regain his bearings in his current body. It'd take time to fully heal of course, just a whole lot less if the slow, but visible rate his bruises were healing was any indication.

"Hey, uh… thanks for the save." Leon said embarrassedly.

"Meh. It's no biggy. My best friend's a lot worse." She regarded him with a snarky side-eye. "Difference is, she usually wins. Kinda stupid to picks fights you can't compete in; not gonna lie."

"I know…" He muttered, scratching his head. "I just got…"

"Overwhelmed? Like a volcano boiling over?" Shula knowingly guessed.

"Yeah, actually…" His brows furrowed as he looked back with questioning eyes. "How'd you know?"

"I told you. My best friend, you know, the blondie that saved your weak ass; well, she's short tempered, arrogant, prone to fights, and condescending as all hell."

The silence was extremely uncomfortable, at least to him. The way she so causally tore down a woman she regarded as her best friend was unnerving to say the least. He understood her point, of course. He'd had the 'pleasure' of dealing with her twice now. Sure, she paid what he'd been led to believe is an astronomical amount of money to grant him a new lease on life, but that still didn't wash away the horrible impression she'd made on him in the few times he'd seen her. It didn't help that he personally felt her accomplice deserved the true praise for his salvation.

He struggled to find the right words, but ultimately decided on the ones at the top of his mind. "Umm… I thought she was your best friend?"

"She is." She replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "That doesn't mean I think she's a saint. She's nice to some people. You didn't see her snapping at Mike, now did ya. Contrary to what you might think, some people find the honest type endearing, even if they can be a little overwhelming at times."

"Sounds unhealthy." He muttered unconsciously.

"I'm sure you'd think so 'Mr. I'm going to pick a fight the second I wake up.' Seriously, how stupid can you be?"

His fists balled as the memories flashed through his still aching head. It was infuriating. He'd never been so humiliated in a fight before. He'd always fought to win and did so more often than not. He'd never been brutalized so completely in a straight fight.

Then, a realization hit him.

"Wait a minute… why did I react that way…?" His brows furrowed as he reflected on his actions. "I… something's wrong…"

Seeing his confusion, she once again looked up from her phone. "Wondering why you ain't as angsty and flinchy as you should?"

He didn't look up, still perplexed. "…yeah…" he half-heartedly answered.

"Call it a service. Illya hired a mind mender to work on ya after you got your puppet body. Trauma's not gone of course, but your brain's been healed enough to work through it. Basically, the circuitry in your noggin has been repaired to a working state, which gives it the tools it needs to fix itself. Only problem is, the first thing it usually does in that scenario is bury the trauma until it can collect itself. Not purely a biological thing, mind you. Half of it's the magic."

"What…?" He uttered incomprehensively. "You guys can do that?"

"Yep! Magic's great. I mean, I can't do that, but there are plenty of weirdos who love messing with minds. It's annoying as hell when it's being used against you, but it certainly helps with the healing process. Therapy's a lot easier when your brain is working as intended. It beats wrestling with trauma for years due to your own biology working against you."

"But why would she do that? She was so insistent that I remember everything on that Lucifer guy."

He wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light, but for a moment, he saw a flash of fury cross her previously cheery eyes.

'What was that? Did I imagine that?' He thought, disturbed.

"Don't worry about what you can't understand. She may be a blunt instrument when it comes to her job, but she's not heartless. The second she allowed herself to play the long game, a lot of options became available to her-," Her eyes looked at him amusedly. "-including making arrangements for your mental wellbeing."

"You mean, she came off like that-" he was cut off.

"Because she felt it's needed, yes. Michael and I don't always agree with her approach, but it works. From her perspective, destroying the source of the cancer is a much greater priority than treating the symptoms."

He really didn't know how to reply to that. It sounded so cold, so… evil. He was a victim. Was he just an inconvenience in her pursuit of the countess? Was his life meaningless if she could find her quarry?

Unlike before, Shula's eyes didn't leave him this time. He was practically an open book; his emotions flew across his face the second he experienced them. If it were anyone else, she'd let them come to whatever conclusion they pleased. It wasn't her business what they felt at her words. She liked to see people smile, yes, but that didn't mean she cared enough to go out of her way to correct what could only be an assumption based on a different set of values.

Unfortunately for her, Illya stuck her with this guy. If he goes all angsty, it's her bag to deal with. She needed this to stop now. She needed a distraction.

'How to get him out of the angst…' She pondered, while slipping her phone in her pocket. 'Wait. He was interested in magic, wasn't he?' A smile bloomed to her face at the surefire answer that'd presented itself. 'That's perfect!'

"Your name's Leon, right?" Shula asked, interrupting his descent into internal rancor.

"… yes?" He drawled.

She pushed off the wall and approached him. "You know… Illya put me in charge of you while you're working for her…"

"…and?" He uncomprehendingly asked, visibly confused at her sudden change. Whether it was the sudden interest in something other than her phone, or the expectant smile that'd risen on her chipper face.

"And, I'd say we do start with something fun. Don't you?" She eagerly asked.

It wasn't an act either. She genially wanted to go outside and do something. Even if it was rehashing the basics, it was much more exciting than babysitting him while he stewed in his emotions. She knew better than anyone the dark thoughts that creep in at one's lowest point. It's best to do something distracting before the conclusions can stick. Otherwise, she'll be dealing with an angsty teenager.

Dealing with the Illya of yesteryear was more than enough for a lifetime, and by the confused nodding of his head, it looks like she wouldn't have too.