Hello Scrolls and Nazarins, bringing another chapter of my fanfic The One Who Came Back.
Zesshi's past comes to light.
With you
The One Who Came Back
Chapter 55: Recognition
A white and black-haired elven child ran through the corridors of a palace with wooden walls... - This was a dream; Zesshi knew she was dreaming. The same nightmare always haunted her. She was still a child. In the dream, her mother was never rescued by the Theocracy, and Zesshi lived in the Elven King's palace. Every time, she was fleeing from the monster, a distorted, gigantic, and naked version of her father.
The more she ran, the closer he got until he grabbed her, immobilized her, and abused her. But this time was different; when Decem reached her, knocked her down, and turned her around, the monster's head exploded.
Her body and everything around her began to dissipate into smoke. From the midst of it emerged her savior, an elven child, reaching out a hand.- "Are you okay?" - Zesshi woke up to the sound of the voice.
"Are you okay?" - Mare asked by the bedside.
The half-elf threw herself into his arms, sobbing. Terror and relief overwhelmed her.
Mare could easily let her go, but he didn't know what to do or where to touch to push her away.
Suddenly, Zesshi was thrown against the bed by a flick given with such force to her head that smoke seemed to come out of the spot.
"No permission, no touching," - Aura said grumpily as she watched the half-elf rolling in pain from the blow received.
"Aura! Y-you didn't have to hit her; she's still very weak, you could've killed her."
"She has to know her place, like any little pet needs to know the limits. Here, another potion."
Mare took the purple potion and poured it over Zesshi's head, easing her pain.
"Drink the rest; it will improve."
"Again, this different potion, it's stronger than the ones I know."
"They are still new things, so we need to know if they won't kill anyone," - Aura teased.
Zesshi just squinted her eyes and then drank. Due to her high levels, only a Yggdrasil red potion could quickly recover her, but they didn't trust her enough to provide one, so it would take weeks for her to recover from the fight with Mare and the session with Neuronist.
"Better?"
"Yes, thank you, Lord Mare... and Lady Aura."
"Th-the others will come to help you, and I'll go out with my sister, we'll be back later."
After the twins left, Zesshi was alone, lost in her thoughts.
'What was that? I felt so safe.'
"Excuse me, Milady, do you need anything?" - one of the elves said upon entering the room.
"Don't call me that; I'm not a princess or your mistress. I won't give you orders unless you tell me to do so."
"We apologize, my lady, but we cannot help treating you as superior."
"Why are you slaves?!" - Despite her previous words, she still sounded disdainful.
"Slaves? No, why being a descendant of the Elven King makes you superior. It's the law, and we were taught that way. But we are no longer slaves; we were liberated when we came here. We work willingly to repay a debt of gratitude, and we are blessed to have Lady and Lord Bella Fiore as masters, even though they don't want to be called that" – smiled the older elf.
"From where do you come, and what were you doing?"
"We come from a village east of Crescent Lake; we were kidnapped and sold when young. We've always been together; our power increases when we are close to each other. We've had several masters, and we can use healing. So, an adventurer bought us in the end. He was handsome, and we thought we would have better luck than the others, but... he beat us, abused us, humiliated us, mutilated us, and beat us more, like most humans, he hated us" - said the elf, holding her now intact ear but remembering what had been done to them.
Zesshi spent the afternoon listening to their stories and what their people had gone through. None of this was new, but the perspective was. Now, she knew it personally. She had been taught and programmed to hate elves, despise her heritage, hate herself. She had been brainwashed by the Theocracy. They called it lessons, but they were tortures, sessions of beatings that only stopped when she became stronger than them. Still, the conditioning continued. They humiliated her, belittled her, and scorned her. They wanted her strength, feared her strength, hated her strength. They turned her into a weapon ready to fire; they just needed to aim in the right direction.
Perhaps she didn't become the weapon they wanted because of a moment in her childhood:
When she couldn't endure the torture anymore, Zesshi Zetsumei escaped. She was 24 years old but looked 8. She tore the bars from the window of her room and jumped from the tower where she lived. That's why she started living in the underground of the Pontiff's Palace after these events, but her name wasn't Zesshi yet.
Trying to escape through the city, she was noticed wherever she went. With her short hair, her ears gave her away. People pointed and cursed. No elf should have intact ears; she must be a fugitive, they said. Someone alerted the guards.
Being pursued, she didn't know, but she was much stronger than all those people. She ran to hide in an alley and with a stolen knife, she pulled the tip of her ear and tried to cut it, without success. Her skin was already too strong, leaving only a few cuts and pain. Then she raised the knife to deliver a strong blow, but before lowering it, a hand held her. There was no strength, but the voice made her stop immediately.
"What are you doing, Pointy?"
The girl looked at the human who smiled. He didn't seem like a pervert or someone who wanted to take advantage. His smile was gentle.
"My name isn't Pointy. Step back, or I'll hurt you," she said, pointing the knife at the person who had stopped her.
"Calm down, I don't want to harm you. I just want to help. Come, if you want, come in. This is my tavern, The Beast, open to anyone in need, not exactly at this hour of the morning, but I can make an exception," the human said with a smile.
She didn't follow him. She still pointed the knife at his back when her stomach growled. It had been days since she had been given food, part of her "training."
"I have a stew that's delicious."
Finally, she decided to enter.
"You know, you shouldn't trust people. Most here aren't as nice."
"I can defend myself. I'm strong."
"I imagine so. Here, eat."
The girl grabbed the bowl and started pouring everything into her mouth.
"Easy, easy, easy, there's plenty. You don't need to swallow it all at once."
The second bowl was eaten more slowly.
"I'm called TW. What's your name, Pointy?" he said, extending his hand.
The girl took it hesitantly.
"I'm called An..."
At this moment, the man had a seizure; his body stretched, bending backward, his eyes rolled back, as if he had been hit by a lightning spell. He shook all over and foamed, lasting only a few seconds, and suddenly passed.
"What happened, what happened, are you okay?" the girl asked worriedly, thinking she had hurt someone.
"I-I'm fine, I... ugh... ugh... I need to tell you something. You need to believe me. Someone will come in through that door and call you. You will try to escape; he will stop you; you will fight. He, for now, is still stronger and more experienced than you. You will die."
"You're crazy, you're trying to deceive me."
"No, believe me, they already know you're here. Someone is watching you, a seer. They will arrive soon. Believe me, you need to go with them, or they will kill you. Pretend they convinced you, pretend you accepted. Be firm, be strong, that's the only way you will survive."
"Lies, you just want to sell me."
"No, I'm your friend, Pointy. Believe me, I saw what could happen. Believe me, he will call you by a name you never told me, he will call you Zesshi, the Certain Death."
At this moment, the door banged against the wall, kicked by a person wearing white and gold divine armor. The man took off his helmet; underneath was a young Dominic Ihre Partouche, the first seat of the Holocaust scripture and future Cardinal of the Wind. He didn't bother to introduce himself.
"Well, well, well, look who we have here, the little Certain Death," he said mockingly with a smirk. "What do you think you're doing, Zes-shi."
The girl hated the nickname; they never called her by her real name. They mocked her as if she were a tiger who had had its claws and fangs removed.
"I-I, I..."
"I-I-I what, little elf? Thought you could run away, hide?"
"I'm sorry, my lord, I found her lost and hungry, so I brought her here. I didn't want to drive her away..." TW said as he approached, then he was struck.
The man flew across the room and hit the opposite wall, breaking a table with the impact.
The child ran and held his head; then he whispered in his ear, and she let him go, approaching Dominic, who had already put on his helmet and was ready to fight. She looked at him and spoke.
"I was just curious, wanted to see the city. I was lost, just needed directions. He's not important. Let's go," she said as firmly as she could.
Dominic tilted his head to the side, pondering the words, then made way for the girl. Before leaving, he tossed a gold coin into the tavern and left.
Zesshi snapped out of her memories; she always remembered the whispered words.
"Pointy, you're very curious, lost, need guidance, i'm not important, trust yourself. Your name is..."
"I'm called Antilene Heram Fouche. Call me Antilene," she said to the elves.