Slayer

Waves of terrible battle reverberated through the soil of a western forest. Rather than a hunter stalking its prey, or a duel shared between like minds, it was a battle of instinct--a desperate struggle of survival between mindless beasts who fought for neither sustenance nor pleasure. Punching, clawing, grabbing, biting, ramming… torn flaps of bloodied muscle littered the flowers like drapes, and the frenzied cries of creatures who had abandoned their humanity completely filled the desecrated woodland with a distinct forbiddance.

Exhaustion meant nothing. Defence, too--a fantasy dreamt up by civilised beings, unfit for combat defined by savagery and violence. It was a battle of dominance crystallised, focused to a perfect realisation of instinct unconcerned with meaningless rituals. Even so, there was no questioning the abnormality of such a thing. Where in this godless battle had the line been drawn between animal and beast? It may have been more correct to say that those two creatures were barely 'alive' at all. Rather, they had sacrificed their very souls to ensure their survival, for there was no greater demonstration of power than that which resulted from mindless combat.

Just how long did the battle rage on? A few minutes? 15? Perhaps an hour? Like the particulars of their movements, such frivolous details were placed aside in favour of strength. Only when the fight had concluded--when a single beast stood victorious, was it even registered that the sun had already fallen. As her senses returned, she saw the beauty of the world marred by a battle that should never have occurred. With trees felled, flowers sundered, and the soil discoloured with blood, a passer-by wouldn't have been able to hazard even a somewhat educated guess as to what had occurred there. Sapped of the strength to stand, she fell without resistance into the mess of gore and skin hanging from the weeds like garlands, and closed her eyes to focus on nothing else but tempering her rapid heartbeat.

"Hah…" The stench of iron made her want to vomit, "Fusala…"

Dribbling out from the red haze of her shadow, something appeared. A Homunculus, rising from the darkness like some creature of myth, expression indeterminable.

"Please do not attempt to move. You have sustained dire physical trauma." As always, the first thing out of her mouth was a succinct recommendation, "I will aid you with a variety of mundane and alchemical remedies."

Alchemists were most often healers. The profession was always in high demand, especially when considering the effectiveness of alchemical droughts compared to more traditional herbal medicines. As a master of her craft, it was no surprise that Fusala's understanding of physiology bordered on obsessiveness. The 7-Coloured Sphere--her key to a pocket dimension containing a slew of powerful reagents, guaranteed that remedies to all manner of ills were always close at hand. Pale's condition was not especially life-threatening, but the tax of exhaustion had immobilised her, and in the middle of that forest, the wounds she had sustained would more than likely harbour infection if steps weren't taken to prevent it.

It had been four days since their departure from the Wolfkin village. The ageing elder had insisted that Pale remain for longer to hone her skills, but it was a pointless effort. Whether she had only grasped the foundations of Senpo or not, time was of the essence. Uncharacteristically, Fusala supported Pale's impulsiveness, more aware than most of just how little time the two of them truly had before the Steppe would be overrun with Demons.

"The Demon King's castle is located within Hena, a frozen wasteland to the north." As she gathered supplies from the wagon to create a campfire, Fusala explained the situation in full, "Historically, Demons have always emerged from that direction, quickly overwhelming the Henklomeon Steppe within weeks of their appearance. Therefore, it is imperative that we depart from the region as quickly as possible."

She poured a flask upon the encircled formation of firewood and tinder--so-called 'Alchemist's Fire', a kind of bottled igniter used in place of more traditional methods. It was considered one of the six fundamental items of alchemy, and its synthesis was a frequent requirement for budding alchemists hoping to graduate from academies. As the campfire flared up, Fusala dragged Pale by the arm to its side, and quickly began cleaning her wounds with antiseptics, much to the girl's displeasure.

"Ah… ah!" Clenching her teeth as a stinging sensation ran across her arm, she was jolted into becoming at least half-aware of her surroundings, "That hurts!"

"It will only hurt more if you continue to move. Please be still."

"Hah…" Forcing herself to relax, Pale sighed, "A single Demon injured me this badly… we won't get anywhere having to rest after every battle."

"The fact that you were able to incapacitate a Demon without my help is worthy of commendation." Fusala complimented, "Senpo is a remarkable discipline. It inhibits the body's natural response to pain, allowing for the kind of relentless offence necessary to defeat such a creature. However, the after-effects are debilitating. Without a healer close by, it is unlikely that you would survive the shock that results from the sudden loss of adrenaline."

"Adren- huh…?" Pale blinked, "I don't really get it, but you're saying that if it wasn't for you, I'd be dead already?"

"No." She paused, "You would be in the process of dying. Ignoring your internal and external wounds, it is more than likely that harmful bacteria thriving in the humid environment of this forest would infect the lacerations."

"Bacter-"

"You would fall ill."

"Right. Of course…"

"Wild animals generally avoid conflict." Fusala mentioned, "A predator will only attack a creature incapable of defending itself, or one which is unlikely to put up a fight. It is the fear of injury, and subsequent infection, which nurtures this behaviour."

"What's this, all of a sudden?"

"As intelligent creatures, we understand that risks must be made in the name of the greater good. A retreating commander may send a group of soldiers to the rear guard with the intention of sacrificing them to ensure that a greater number will escape. We do not fear light injuries due to our mastery of medicine and surgery. It could be said that this capacity for sacrifice is one of the defining characteristics that separates a man from a beast."

"Am I a beast, then?" Pale asked, "Is that what you're saying?"

"In order to channel the power of Senpo, one must defeat the thought of 'risk' entirely, and become devoted to victory, whether pyrrhic or otherwise. A beast could never hope to understand such self-destructive behaviour. When you fought this Demon, your fury could have easily been compared to that of a cornered animal. But, truthfully, that 'fury' is a fabrication. Faced with the possibility of death, a beast is forced to become aggressive, but once an opportunity to escape presents itself, its timid demeanour will return. It is not a display of power, but desperation."

Lowering her head, Pale could only see the outline of Fusala's form as she thought carefully about her next words.

"Senpo… does not mimic the behaviour of an animal, but a Demon." She concluded, "Striking without consideration for one's health, and pursuing victory at all costs… it is the martial art of an uncontrollable monster."

"A Demon…" Allowing her eyes to stray from the campfire, Pale could just about see the gargantuan silhouette hovering just out of the light's reach. It was impossible to imagine how she had brought low such a creature using nothing but her hands--truthfully, she didn't remember a second of it. Only the repercussions of her actions--her aching knuckles and seething wounds, reminded her of that thoughtless battle.

"I believe I now understand why Senpo was made forbidden by the Beastkin tribes." Fusala continued, "Protecting newborn children was only a small part of it. The real reason was to prevent the dehumanisation of the 'soul' evident in all intelligent creatures. To prevent… 'Demons' from being created."

"Hm…" Unable to muster a reply, Pale fell into silence, "If I- ah! What are you doing!?"

"This wound requires stitching. Please do not struggle."

"Mention that before taking a needle to my stomach!"

"Please continue with what you were saying. It will help to dull the pain."

"What I was trying to- ah…" Wincing as Fusala threaded a length of silk through her skin, she resumed, "-Trying to say, was that… if I have to sacrifice my 'soul' to become stronger… then I'll gladly become a Demon if it means… being able to fight back…"

"It is highly unlikely that you will be able to defeat every Demon in the world. I would recommend having a more realistic goal in mind before we continue travelling."

"What am I supposed to do…?" She asked, "I already failed everyone at the most crucial moment… I couldn't save a single person from being killed by those things!"

"Even so, to continue without a purpose will only result in death." Fusala countered, "You have endured much suffering to reach this point. It would not be… no, it would not honour the memory of those who were killed during the Demon attack if you were to die pointlessly."

"How would you know?"

"...Excuse me?"

"You didn't lose a thing..." Pale averted her eyes, "Barion is still alive. Even your wagon is right here with us. Don't tell me that I'd be doing a disservice to my people by searching for revenge when you don't have the first idea of what I've lost."

"On the contrary, despite having little personal connection to the Beastkin, I am capable of recognising the anguish you have endured."

"It must be easy to pity someone when they're so far below you…" She muttered, "After all, if it wasn't for you, we would have all been dead… it must feel good, to know you were the Hero that appeared to save us all."

"Not particularly."

"I…" Closing her eyes, Pale allowed her head to rest against the soil, "I'm sorry, Fusala…"

"Do not apologise. It is important not to bottle your feelings up." Fusala replied, "You are in need of rest. Not only from your battle, but from the struggles you have endured to reach this point. It is only natural to feel frustrated when you feel as if nothing can be done to change the state of the world."

"I know. Thank you." She sighed, "...Tomorrow, let's decide on what we plan to do next. I want to be able to find a reason… not just to fight, but to live."

"I agree." The shadow-girl finished, "But for now, please sleep. I will make sure nothing interrupts you."