The Phtumerian winched in pain as he fell against the wall. The blow had almost severed his right arm. There was no hesitation in what came after: The hunter simply pulled out his gun right in front of the pale-being's face, and then she pulled the trigger.

The Phtumerian's head exploded with small bits of cranial matter spreading over the hunter's body. Not that she cared anymore. Amy took a long sight, under her mask, pondering over how killing these beings had become so easy and most importantly enjoyable. She had trouble at first, even after talking with her mother. You couldn't just throw away fourteen years of New Wave conditioning about don't kill a person. Even if that person was actually some kind of weird alien that had to be put down.

Well then… then she found a way.

Amy had just to imagine that the Phtumerians in front of her were actually the person she hated the most: herself. Then, unsurprisingly, her compulsion against killing was much weaker than before. It felt good to finally lash out against herself for being a monster, for never belonging in the New Wave, for never being able to save everyone, for always risking destroying everything, for being a sick fuck that was attracted by her own sister.

She thought about it before: to build a clone. Actually, more a sack of meat, shaped as a copy of herself, a simulacrum, without a nervous system or a brain. She thought about building a clone, hiding it under her bed, then once Vicky and the others were gone, she would have been free to pull it out and beat it like a glorified punching bag; to tear her legs, to break her face, to rip her nails, to cover her in pheromones and look at the rats and stray animals that feasted on its body.

Amy never had the guts to go along with it, she always feared the look on Vicky and Carol's faces. But now, she was free. Here inside this Chalice Dungeon, she was free of giving in to her desires. To lash out and to vent out. She didn't have to worry about anything. No fear of unleashing biblical plagues, when she just wanted to test her powers. No glances of Carol that told her how much she hated her for not being a true hero. No responsibilities.

Yes, it was good. She was good. And besides, what a few bodies could ever mean? She was Panacea. The miraculous healer, everybody would still forgive her, for how much value she was.

She looked around; the room was clean. Seven bodies were lying on the ground. Good. The Good Hunter returned on the surface because she had to build something. Some secret project. She was actually alone this time. In a forgotten crypt, where everything was trying to kill her but, hey, that wasn't so bad…

She looked around again, making sure that nobody was watching her. Then, she waved her arm, letting the crow-feathered cape to flutter on her back dramatically, just like she saw Vicky (okay, spied Vicky, she always had the bad habit of never closing her room's door) practicing in front of a mirror. The first time was a dud, but the second time she got it juuuust right.

So cool.

Ma-maybe she could convince the New Wave to keep the cloak? She finally understood why Vicky loved her cape so much.

Actually, directly replacing the entire costume wouldn't have been so bad…

Having cleaned the room, she moved onto the next. The next chamber was long with the other end clouded by a thick grey mist. No enemies on sight, she could do this. She took a dept breath and stepped inside the room.

Only to get splatted into smithereens by a sudden flying cannonball. Without even understanding how Amy Dallon died her on the spot.

"So that's how you died the first time, uh?" The Good Hunter asked her, as she handled her a cup of tea, back into the Hunter Dream.

"Yes," She nodded, as she started to drink the tea. It had a weird taste but it wasn't so bad. A bit pungent and really sweet.

"Well, could've been worse. You could have been slowly devoured alive by a wolf-shaped beast."

"That's oddly specific…"

"That was the way I died the first time," Emilia told her.

"Oh."

"Anyways… How did dying felt like?"

"I don't know, honestly, it all happened so fast. One moment I was entering into a room, the next I am splotch of gore onto a wall…"

"Okay, then how do you feel like, right now?" The older Hunter asked Amy again.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how do you feel… happy? Confused? Scared? Angry?"

"I…I…uhm" She paused. The Good Hunter was right. How did she feel like? Part of her was traumatized, as a biokinetic, while unable to operate her own body, she had an intrinsic understanding of her own biology. The memory, even if incredibly short as she died almost instantly, of her burning remains was still haunting her mind. On the other hand, she felt also… happy? Not just for being alive, but also for being hurt… Maybe… Maybe she deserved to be punished for being a monster and a freak…

God, I am so messed up. She thought.

"I don't really know… that's a lot of stuff to process…"

"That's fine." The Good Hunter nodded.

"Any chance then that you tell me what you building inside the workshop?" Amy finally asked, overcame by her curiosity. The door had been closed shut. Actually she still never had a chance of exploring it, in the first place.

"Uh?! Oh, no, no, no. It's a surprise. Yeah, a big surprise. Don't worry about it. Actually, why we don't talk about the outside? There were some massive explosions. Some guy went on a bombing spree… Lots of burning buildings, people screaming, that's sort of stuff, I've got a massive shard of glass stuck into my arm!"

Amy shivered at the thought. A bombing spree?! Was Victoria alright? No, she had to be alright, she was Victoria. Her Victoria. But all the other people… all those civilians injured. It was her duty to heal them, the duty of Panacea…

…But Amy had just died.

And the thing was annoying her.

She could almost see the cannon down in the Labyrinth, mocking her, taunting her, with her fucking smug vulpine grin.

She found out that she didn't like being taunted and mocked anymore.

Maybe, she could just use a small trip down. Just a quick job to clean the place and then make the fastest sprint to the hospital. To home. Yes, that sounded good. "…And besides time doesn't flow here." Amy thought. "It will be over in a minute…"

Dealing with the cannon had been a surprisingly short affair. Without the element of surprise, it's had been easy to dodge the explosive projectile. Actually, the entire ordeal had made her reflect: She could have heard the shot coming by far. She just didn't pay any attention to the surrounding. She was so used to stay in the sidelines acting just as support that she had no idea of how to actually act in the middle of the action. No surprise here, she had always hated the idea of being a fighter in the front-lines…

Well, she had always hated it, until now.

The very idea of getting smeared over the wall by a sudden ambush again had forced her to change that: she had to pay more attention; to get sharper. Being immortal is worthless if she kept dying in the same way.

Fortunately, it seemed to work. Her earing was better, her senses sharper or they had just been that sharp from the start? This was what her mother meant before? Dying all over again, learning from mistakes, and getting stronger each time?

Well, she was definitely stronger now. She was pushing a large stone door that she would have never been able to even make budge before.

It was so close, now to the end. She had just to deal with what was after the final room. Probably just Watchers like those she had just killed before with Emilia. Nothing impossible. She stepped inside the final room...

...And the Amy saw the monster, coming to life to welcome her.

It was big, massive, and on fire. A canine body made of burning flesh and charred bones, a long neck culminating with a vaguely crocodilian head with a pair of burning bright eyes. It was, for the lack of a better description, a canine version of a ramped-up scaleless Lung.

The Watchdog stared at her, snarling.

She was going against a fucking dog-Lung.

The monster charged, throwing his massive body at her.

She hadn't even the time to start screaming.

The second time, she didn't fare much better. She dodged the charge but she didn't in time. Her legs still felt the hit, crushed into bits. She could only watch as the Watchdog breathed death towards her.

The third time, he tore her entire upper torso with a single bite.

The fourth time, vomited lava over her body.

The fifth time, she dodged the opening charge, then the Watchdog decided to explode, literally, carbonizing her flesh.

The sixth time, she managed to actually hit him with his cleaver but she died shortly after, torn by his burning claws.

And then she died a seventh time...

...And then an eighth time...

"WHY…" She growled under her breath.

...And then a ninth time.

"…WON'T…"

A tenth.

"…YOU…"

An eleventh.

"…FUCKING…"

A twelfth.

"…DIE!"

After the thirteenth death, she stopped. Why she was doing this? Why she was throwing herself towards fiery death? It was stupid, no it was insane. It was… It was…

Then she remembered the monster smirking at her.

The fiery grin stretching across his entire face.

"I've got the most powerful weapon of all, information."

The Watchdog was taunting her, mocking her, humiliating her. She hated being humiliated. She hated being mocked. Nobody was going to mock her anymore. Before she couldn't lash out. She had already to watch as the monster destroyed her family. No more. She was a hunter, now and a hunter must hunt...

She threw herself into the mist, once more. Once more staring the monster. The Watchdog lunged at her, just like he did the thirteen times before. She dodged perfectly this time, then she braved the fire touching the monster. Amy ignored the heat, ignored her own flesh burning at the touch, as she focused on the monster's biology. It was… clearer than before. She could now understand… things. Operating it was still too early, but she now understood more things… like… like…

…Like the fact that his legs were frail, worn by his very own fire, ready to break… if hit hard enough. The Watchdog caught Amy, devouring her whole but death didn't faze her anymore…

…For now she had a plan.

She faced the monster beyond the wall of mist, one more time. The watchdog charged, she dodged on the left. He charged again. She dodged on the right. He vomited lava and she dodged again on the left, then she stuck the right foreleg at the height of the elbow joint. The monster retaliated but she managed to dodge, repeating the same pattern: dodge and then hit, dodge, and then hit.

Left. Left. Right. Hit. Left. Right. Left. Hit. Right. Left. Left. Hit.

Amy realized that this wasn't a fight.

Left. Right. Right. Hit. Left. Left. Right. Hit. Right. Right. Right. Hit.

It was a dance.

A memory emerged from her subconscious, long forgotten. Eldritch beings clashing with each other, dancing with each other. Knowledge through the impact. Growth through conflict. So much more, she could be so much more...

The monster fell to the ground, his right foreleg collapsing under her continued assault, his equilibrium lost. One moment she was near her collapsed leg, the next she was over her head, plunging her saw cleaver deep into his cranium. She ignored the boiling sprays of bright-hot cerebral fluid as she kept pushing the saw deeper inside the monster head. The Watchdog roared in pain, raising and trying to shake off the smaller hunter.

Amy held the saw tight, as she was shaken in the air by the bigger monster. Still. she held tight until the blade was dislodged and her body flew at high speed, her back hitting the wall of the circular chamber. She was pretty sure that if it wasn't for the blood vial that she jammed in her leg, shortly after, she would have probably not been able to ever walk again.

The Watchdog stared at her growling softly, his eyes burning with anger, both literally and metaphorically, while bright-hot liquid leaked on the ground from the massive wound in his head. The hunter slowly lifted herself up on her feet.

The monster lunged and they started to dance again.

Dodge left. Right. Hit. Left. Right. Hit. Right. Right. Hit.

It was intoxicating. She was putting her life into the line and yet she never felt so alive, so good… To shed the shackles that society had put on her. No pressure into healing people. No responsibilities. Only conflict. It was so good, to finally be able to give in at her urges, without anybody knowing.

As she rammed the cleaver into the monster, a spray of boiling blood hit her, burning through her clothes, charring her shoulder black. She winched for the pain but after dying more than thirteen times she was starting to get used to the pain, she jammed another vial into her left leg.

The flaming monster capitalized on her injury slamming her with his massive claws slashing and cauterizing her flesh at the same time, while her body was thrown away by the sheer strength of the blow.

She injected another vial into her left leg.

God, the feeling was so great. Was that what her patients felt like?

Dodge. Right. Left. Hit. Left. Right. Hit. Right. Right. Hit.

The movement of the Watchdog started to slow down. His slashes were sloppier, less precise. Less a predator tearing his prey to shreds and more the prey trying to keep the predator away. His flames cooling down, like a candle that burned for too long. Instead… She… She…

...She was feeling better than ever.

Dodge on the right. Left. Hit. Hit. Right. Hit. Left. Hit. Hit. Hit.

Under the mask, Amy was grinning like maniac…

The monster tried one last gambit, his throat engorging as he tried to vomit magma over the hunter. Instead of falling back, she dived between his legs right under the monster's chest and pierced his torso, right where his heart should be.

The Watchdog roared in pain, screamed but Amy didn't flinch. The Hunter keep push the weapon deeper in the burning viscera, and then she ripped it out with as much violence as possible, tearing chunks of fuming flesh along with it. The fire over the Watchdog body died instantly, quenched and the monster fell, defeated, the prey slaughtered.

Amy crawled out from under the monstrous carcass. In hindsight, diving down a flaming monster for the deathblow wasn't exactly her smartest idea but she made it out in one piece all things considered.

The Hunter slowly rose on her feet. Her legs were trembling at the same time for the damage, the strain, and the excitement. Her heart was pumping non-stop. When the Watchdog fell, she felt something flowing inside her. She had no idea of how to describe it, only that she had already felt it before when she killed the Watcher but that time the feeling was dull and fleeting.

Now, it was something different, entirely…

Oh, she had to tell Vicky about this. She had to! Yes, Vicky, might take her for crazy but then again nobody ever told her that b̮e̱̞͇̬̯i̶̜̭ͅn̝̩̟̜̼̘̜͝ģ̦ c͖͙̠͕̻r̛̯͓̣̤͖a̺̫͙̣z̶͙̦̩͔̥ͅͅy҉̫͍ ̯̪f͖͈̟e҉̞̩l̯͉͙̭̫͎ͅt̷̹ ̱̯s̵̙̯o̪̭̠͖͢ ̤̝̰̺ͅg̢̟̞̹o̞̩͇̻̙͍o̦͖̹̦ͅḑ̝͓̦̯̥
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She started laughing, her laugh slowly escalating in a crescendo until she wasn't able to even breathe anymore…

When Amy returned to the dream, she instantly noticed that something was amiss. There was something different in the air. For how long, she had been down? Minutes? Hours? Days? Even Weeks maybe? Was she losing the cognition of time?

All these questions lost any significance, as she spotted a tall figure tendering the messengers near the tombstones She wasn't her mother. She tried to get closer at the suspicious figure, garbed in some unusual clothing and almost as if she had eyes behind the back, the figure stood straight and turned herself towards her.

Amy saw the Doll's face and her breath suddenly died in her throat.

"Welcome home, good hunter…" Victoria, the plain doll, greeted her. "What is it you desire?"