AN: What!? I'm actually publishing a Chapter NOT at midnight? Must be Crazy Reverso Day!

Then again, it is rather short.

Before we begin, I'd like to address one of the reviews I received asking about if I could use Minecraft youtubers in my story.

The answer is 'No' for two reasons.

One, it would require me to look up Minecraft youtubers to get a sense of their character and personality, which would take time out of writing actual content.

And Two, people watch Minecraft youtubers because they enjoy their reactions and watching them compete against each other while commenting about random things. It's the character that people enjoy. I'm already trying to develop my own characters so, writing youtubers into my story seems kind of excessive and wasteful. If you want to read a story about your favorite Minecraft youtuber, look up a story about that youtuber.

*Phew*

Sorry. Just felt like saying that. I hope you understand my reasoning.

Anyway, congrats to Laner for answering last week's riddle correctly. The answer: Your name! Enjoy your cookie and your acknowledgement.

(::)

Puzzle: Dan's mother had three children. The first was named April and the second was named May. What was the name of the third child?

Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd add paint.

Beta: Myself...this time...for the third time...again...

Chapter 42

Dead and Gone

[Carys]

Lazuli was a Kingdom of Art.

One in which creativity and color dominated every aspect of the frosted tundra territory. Be it ice sculptures, paintings, stained glass mosaics, banners, or, more famously, Snow Prints. The Kingdom was so renowned as a hub for artists, that its very architecture resembled that of a pristine crystal chandelier, surrounding the mountain along which it was built. Ice and snow that never melted in the Kingdom's icy climate.

Even its name was tied to art. Lazuli. Half the name of the blue mineral generally used for dye. The same blue dye that made up their guards' leather caps.

Yes. If Lazuli prided itself on one thing, it was art.

Not that I cared for any of that. I ranked artistic talent somewhere between cauldrons and mundane potions in terms of usefulness. Furthermore, a Kingdom focused solely on art and self-expression could not endure any kind of war, should it arise. Lazuli's guards were arguably the weakest of all the Kingdoms.

Just standing in a Kingdom of such weaklings felt unbearable. There could be no potential allies found in such a prim, artsy place.

But that wasn't why I was there.

Getting in was simple enough. Just a well-aimed ender pearl over the toll gates. Crafters were always so afraid of being caught sneaking into Kingdoms and having to face a swarm of guards. However, people like me—people of strength—had nothing to worry about. Even if the guards were competent, I could dispatch them easily enough.

I left my horse tethered outside the Kingdom. I'd be back for it later.

Once inside the Kingdom, I glanced with mild indifference at the snow-packed buildings surrounding me. Lazuli was build along a mountain and structured so that the bottom housed the poorest, and the top housed the richest, and the King.

That's where I needed to go. The top.

But not to threaten the King. No. Just someone close by.

Once I got up there, I had to ask around for the exact location of my quarry. One such Crafter pointed me towards a pristine mansion built from snow and stained glass, a few ice sculptures standing guard like sentinels.

I glanced at one of them and smirked before flicking it tauntingly. Then I walked past and knocked on the door.

I didn't have to wait long before a woman answered the door. She had short tawny hair and her name was Patricia57. "Hello?" She asked politely, all while showing obvious confusion as to who I was.

"Hello." I spoke softly while giving a kind smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Would this happen to be the residence of the famous artist, Leo_Frost?"

The woman rolled her eyes before nodding in exasperation. "Yes. But I am afraid my husband is at work, answering all the requests from his many fans." She scrutinized me with obvious annoyance. "I swear, this is the tenth time a fan has been asking for him. If you think you'll be bumped up his reservation list just by trying to catch him at home, you'll have to—"

"Actually," I interrupted, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. "You're exactly the person I was looking for."

"Hey! She can't cut the line!"

"What!? I've been waiting here overnight and she thinks she can just waltz in and cut us? No way!"

"I want Leo to make a sculpture of me! And I'm highly ranked amongst the King's court! If anyone should cut it should be me!"

I ignored all their noisy prattle as I continued to carve my way to the front of the line. Right to where Leo was sitting patiently.

If anyone tried to stop me with an outstretched hand, I caught it, twisted it, and continued forward without even looking at the offending limb. Or the screaming owner of the now broken limb.

After the eighth arm, people began to realize I shouldn't be trifled with and settled for just verbal outrage without anyone acting on it.

Cowards and weaklings. All of them.

Once I reached the front of the line, I was greeted with a man sitting at a table, sporting rainbow hair done up in a pompadour. Ugh…looking at the thing too long was making me sick.

"Excuse you." The man, named Leo_Frost, spoke with very obvious disdain. "I have no respect for those that cut the line OR for those that break the limbs of my fans."

"What a coincidence. I have absolutely no respect for artists." I countered, smirking at the outraged look on his face.

"How DARE you." He spoke lowly as he got up from his seat. "If this is your way of getting me to accept your commission, you'd better just turn around…and…"

He trailed off in his rant as I lightly tossed a book on the table. He glanced at it carefully before opting to open it and read. It didn't take ten seconds for his eyes to bulge in horror as the implications of the book dawned on him.

He opened his mouth to protest, but whatever he thought to say died on his lips with the near-imperceptible shake of my head and my cold smile.

I leaned forward, making sure my lips brushed against his ear. "I'm in a bit of a hurry." I whispered, ensuring the people behind me couldn't hear. "So I'm going to ask you only to answer in nods or shakes. If a single word leaves your mouth, if you make any move to signal anyone…well…best not to think about it. Understand?"

He gulped before nodding silently.

"Good." I whispered. "Now, while I have absolutely no respect for artists or their work, I need one to make me some incredibly detailed Snow Prints. So I chose you, one of the greatest artists in Lazuli. You should feel flattered, no?"

After a pause, in which he realized I just asked him a question, he quickly nodded. Despite the arctic temperature, his forehead was already shining with a nervous sweat.

Making someone sweat in the cold…just another level of intimidation to add to my repertoire.

"Yes," I continued as I adjusted my grip on his table. "Your likenesses have received high praise, and I'm sure if I describe them to you, you'll make a couple of masterpieces worthy of my time. But the problem was that someone as famous as you would surely have multiple commissions, with requests pushed back for months. Just look at that line of fans behind me."

I shifted to the right to allow him to see all the disgruntled fans. But Leo kept his eyes glued to mine, perhaps too afraid he might accidentally do something I'd consider a signal, and act upon my threat.

"So, to speed things up a bit, I met your wife at your home and 'convinced' her to come with me for a bit. To a nice, safe, discreet location." The book I had shown Leo was his wife's citizenship information. I also flashed him her entry pass, which I managed to procure from her person, in order to further bolster my threat.

"One of two things is going to happen, Leo." I was ready to get to the crux of my conversation. "One: You say anything that isn't a 'Very well, Miss' and I will go directly to your wife and ensure she is never found again." He flinched in fear, but I was blocking that reaction from his fans.

"Or two: You say 'Very well, Miss' and the two of us meet outside the Kingdom, you with your art supplies and I with your wife, to make those Snow Prints. And when you are done, I will pay you the proper cost for your work, and you and your wife get to go home together, never to see me again."

I leaned back with my best fake smile, returning to my normal volume. "So, what do you say?"

To any of Leo's fans, I looked like I was ending a harmless conversation with the artist. Which was further bolstered when he nodded with a, "Very well, Miss."

While the fans behind me shouted their disapproval, I just smiled politely. And with almost no volume, whispered:

"Good choice."

The land surrounding Lazuli, which made up Northern Minecraftia, was covered in snow all year round. There were the occasional spikes of ice jutting from the ground or massive snow-capped mountains, but the constant snowfall made it a winter wonderland.

Herds of sheep traversed the frosted wasteland, their wool the only thing keeping them warm. With the abundance of sheep, most of Lazuli feasted on cooked mutton, with the wool left over. Because of this, colored wool was the primary medium for self-expression. Perhaps Lazuli's focus on art originated from the very availability of wool.

But more importantly, the daily snowfall made the landscape perfect for Snow Prints.

The idea for Snow Prints resulted from the usage of blank maps.

Whenever a new map was made, it projected an overhead view of the surrounding landscape to a certain radius from the map-holding Crafter. Therefore giving that Crafter a look at the expected terrain.

Since snow showed up as an untarnished white on new maps, it gave artists the blank canvas for which they could paint artsy crap to their heart's content. Only instead of paint, they used colorful wools.

Those were Snow Prints. Large scale pictures built flat along the snow and then mapped out to be fitted as a poster or picture. Since maps could be expanded by simply surrounding one with paper, artists could make larger scale Snow Prints for more detailed work. Whenever a Kingdom needed Wanted posters for criminals or self-portraits, Snow Prints were generally used.

I had to admit, my own Wanted poster was spot on. Like looking in a mirror. They really captured my cold, merciless, crimson eyes.

And it was that same detailed work I needed for three particular pictures.

"How is this?" The famed artist panted as he looked to me for approval. He had just completed all three pictures to my specifications.

I hummed in thought as I checked each one. I couldn't skip crucial details. They had to look exactly like the real things. "The eyes. His eyes are a deeper green than that. And his face looks more idiotic than that."

I then pointed to the second picture. "And that one needs a sharper hairline. Jagged near the forehead."

Then I looked at the third one, the largest one and frowned a bit. "And the eyes on that one aren't nearly as adorable as they should be! I want to see sparkles in those innocent eyes of his!"

Leo groaned wearily but returned to his work without verbal protest. He wasn't sweaty from exhaustion. Just the pressure of not seeing his wife ever again.

Which was understandable.

"You said you would bring my wife here." He ventured hesitantly. "Please…just show me where she is so I know she's okay…"

"You'll see your wife when I see those Prints." I shot down coldly with a hand upon my hip. "Though I assure you she's close."

Leo bowed low in apology before continuing. He walked over to the donkey he brought to carry his supplies and withdrew some green and lime wool. Despite the scare, he was devoting all of his focus to his work.

A proud artist, who would settle for nothing short of perfection.

A few more minutes passed, with him making corrections where I told him to. Shaping the Snow Prints into the faces of two despised enemies…

And one beloved companion.

"Stop." I commanded to which the artist complied. "That's perfect. It's like I'm facing them right now." I had to resist the urge of whipping out my sword and stabbing them in the eyes. Or burning them with my flint and steel.

That came later.

And would most certainly occur to the real ones. In time.

Leo quickly took out blank maps to make the Prints and presented them to me. "Please…my wife…" He whined as I accepted them.

To his words I withdrew an iron shovel and dug up a patch of snow nearby to reveal his unconscious wife. Alive and mostly unharmed.

"Here." I lifted the woman out of the hole and tossed her to her husband along with a stack of emeralds. "Your wife and your pay. Now leave."

Leo accepted both with a surprised expression, as if he was fully expecting me to murder both of them after the job was done.

I wasn't that—okay, yeah, I was that cruel. But he did his job. There was no need to kill him for it.

As for the emeralds…

I got them off the Snow Golems.

I kept my eyes focused on the artist's work, not even paying attention to him as he carried his wife and guided his donkey back to the Kingdom in the distance.

All that was left was to clean up the large wool pictures. With fire.

I took out my flint and steel and torched the first two; the ones of two hated enemies. I smiled darkly as the fire engulfed Cobb and Floyd's likenesses, its orange glow reflecting in my crimson orbs. The warmth radiating off that fire helped dispel the icy chill.

They'll burn. Both of them. Just like this.

As I was about to set fire to the third one, I heard the muffled sound of footsteps against snow. I didn't even bother to turn around to address the newcomer.

"This isn't a show."

I waited for a reply or the sound of the newcomer leaving. When I got neither, I let out a tired sigh and only then turned to face them.

The newcomer was a male. Brown hair, dark skin, black eyes filled with anger. Wearing a black shirt, a brown robe secured by light brown sashes at his neck and stomach. The lower sash acted like a belt, keeping his more useful supplies at the ready. He also had torn black pants, black gloves and boots with white fur lining. His backpack was black. And over it all was diamond armor.

Above his head, the name SaltOfTheEarth hovered.

"I'm in a bad mood right now." I explained as I regarded the man before me. "So unless you have something to say, I suggest you leave."

The man chuckled humorlessly to himself. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

I focused more on his face before shaking my head. "No. If I met you before, you must not have left an impression. I'm usually good with memorizing features."

Particularly if someone has angered me. I thought, remembering the Snow Prints I had accurately described to the artist.

"Figures." The man commented to nobody in particular. "I spent weeks tracking you down—months even—thinking of little else but my long-awaited revenge. And you can't even be bothered to remember me."

My ears perked at his statement. Weeks? Then he must know who I am…

"That's right, Carys." The man continued as he glared at me. "I know exactly who you are. Or should I call you, the 'Angel of Death?'"

My eyes widened just a fraction before returning to their neutral state. "Not many people are privy to that tidbit. And you want vengeance against me. Which means you're a member of the Endward Cult."

"Very clever." He congratulated with a mock clap. "I'm Lieutenant Salt of the Southern Division. The same division you and your faction laid waste to."

"Really?" I replied with surprise, the memory of the man becoming clearer. "I didn't think I missed one of you. I mean there was Garden, that other forgettable Lieutenant, a whole massacre-worth of cultists…" I trailed off as I ticked each one off my fingers, intending to rile the man up.

But he kept himself in check, only channeling his fury into his black eyes.

"Yes. You killed them all. And I was there. I saw you. And you saw me. But I escaped."

"I'd use the phrase 'running away' but if it helps you cope with your cowardice…"

"And I vowed I'd track you down by myself, and kill you for what you did." He spread his arms out wide. "And here we are."

"And here we are." I echoed as I brandished my diamond blade with slight boredom. "If you're trying to make up for your cowardice that day, you've certainly done so with this brazen meeting. Willing to face me all on your own when your whole Division couldn't?" I tsked chidingly. "Not very smart."

He let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Who said I was facing you alone?"

At his words, he snapped his fingers and the surrounding snow shifted, sprinkled with angry red eyes.

Wolves with brown collars, perfectly camouflaged by the snow, began to close in. They had encircled us during our chat, and on Salt's command had their fur bristled and teeth bared for battle.

There were quite a few of them. Salt must have tamed them as a sort of edge against me. So he wasn't completely brazen as to face me without a strategy.

I just laughed darkly, my eyes showing how amusing his efforts were to me.

If he thought a couple of wolves would be enough to kill me, he obviously didn't learn a thing from the last encounter.

"Attack, my pets!"

At Salt's command, the wolves lunged forward. I focused my attention on the wolves in front of me, staving them off with my blade. The ones that attacked from behind, while doing damage, were repelled by my Thorns enchantment.

Salt stayed back, arming himself with a bow as he took aim. His strategy was probably to use the wolves as a diversion while he sniped me from afar with a powerful bow enchantment.

However, he overlooked one thing.

As he took the first shot, I kicked the closest wolf in front of me. It took the hit and burst into flames, howling in pain.

Flame bow, eh?

Salt cursed as he loaded another shot. But I was already a step ahead.

I lobbed an ender pearl high over the group of wolves and placed a block of TNT before lighting it. Just as it was about to go off, the pearl landed, teleporting me away from the blast that killed most of the wolves.

However, the next instant, I took an arrow to the shoulder before catching fire. Salt had tracked the pearl and aimed a shot the moment I appeared. I withdrew a Fire Resistance Potion and drank the amber brew, smiling in relief as the burning pain faded.

The remaining wolves relocated me quickly enough, charging with growls and snarls. Maybe intending to avenge their fallen kin like Salt was trying to do.

'Trying' being the key word.

But wolves, like Salt, were unintelligent. Too stupid to take anything but the direct route. A simple streak of fire between them and I was all it took to incinerate them. They flailed in pain before fizzling away.

It was just me and Salt left.

At that thought, I leaned my head to the left to dodge his latest flaming arrow. I focused my eyes solely on his as I raced forward. Each desperate shot he took was either dodged, or taken with little concern. The Thorns enchantment worked the same for arrows, so each shot he landed hurt him too. Plus, the Flame bow was rendered useless by the Fire Resistance.

It wasn't long before he had to resort to his iron blade. He charged furiously with the sword raised high, Crit Aura resonating along the surface. "CARYS!"

He had already lost. Shouting like a mad dog and charging recklessly was going to cost him. I blocked his swing with my blade and kneed him in the ribs. He coughed in pain before I grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the snow. Then, for good measure, I grabbed his leg, placing my foot against its knee and yanked it sharply towards me, breaking it.

Something about the sound of broken limbs sounded pleasant to my ears.

Salt, with all the honor he could muster, only hissed in the agonizing pain I inflicted upon him. His Health was low enough that a simple strike could kill him. And a Potion of Slowness and Weakness kept him immobilized.

He had lost.

"What's wrong, Salt?" I taunted as I knelt beside him. "I thought you said you were going to avenge your Division. How do you expect to do that now?"

He glared at me with pure unbridled fury. "Lean in closer and I'll show you." He threatened with a snarl. He was probably prepared to bite my head off if that's what it would take.

I shook my head pitifully. "Poor Salt." I grabbed a fistful of his hair and shook it a bit. "So proud. So willing to take me on alone. So willing to avenge his fallen cultists."

I made sure to turn his head to face me so he could see my cruel smile. "But I'm grateful for your silly pride. You knew my face. You knew who the 'Angel of Death' was—something the rest of the Endward Cult has been trying to figure out. You had this information, and what did you do with it?" I watched the realization dawn on his face, verifying my theory. "You kept it to yourself. You wanted to hunt me down yourself, without any help. You wanted to bring my Head back, knowing you accomplished it yourself."

I patted his cheek, taking care to avoid his snapping teeth, before letting his head rest. "But, being the proud idiot that you are, you couldn't help but tackle this alone. And you lost. So now my identity gets to remain a mystery for a little longer, and my plans can proceed without having to worry about the Cult's interference."

"Spare me the lecture and just end it already!" He shouted with a face contorted in rage. "We cultists don't fear death! We don't fear the end! The only way forward is endward!"

"Well, I've met a few cultists that would disagree with you on that." I commented, remembering the cultists that had begged me to spare them before I silenced them for good. "But I can't kill you just yet."

I withdrew a Potion of Poison and lightly tossed it in the air before catching it in my palm. I continued this action over Salt's head, ready to drop it at a moment's notice.

"While your pride has withheld information about me from your allies, I'm hoping it won't be the same issue the other way around." Salt's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You must know a few of the other Lieutenants and Executives. Names, appearances, tactics. Give them to me and I'll make your death painless."

He spat in my face. "Fuck. You."

I wiped my face before smiling darkly and letting the Poison Potion fall. The poison ate away at his health, making him cry out in pain despite his resolve.

"You don't like that pain, do you?" The next potion I withdrew was a Potion of Healing, which I dangled tauntingly above his face. "I can make it go away. Just give me a bit of information. Who's the Northern Executive?"

He scrunched his eyes closed. "Kill me now, or I swear you'll live to regret it."

I sighed wearily before dropping the Healing Potion on him. I had to make sure he had enough Health before continuing with the torture.

I took out my flint and steel and brought the two together over his torso. The flames covered his body, making him scream in agony. I waited a bit before dousing the flames with my bucket of water, ensuring he was kept alive.

He gasped for breath, glorifying in the respite I was granting him.

"Information Salt." I urged mercilessly. "You think you can hold out? Against me? I am the strongest Crafter in the world. I will keep you alive. And I will use every method of torture at my disposal to make you crack. To make you scream all about the Endward Cult. And when that's done, you'll finally have the death you desire."

He let out another shaky gasp…though this one sounded different. Almost like—

"Are you laughing?" I questioned with a raised brow. "Don't tell me you're a masochist."

He let out another bark of raspy laughter as he cracked an eye open. "You…you called yourself…the strongest?" He let out another laugh.

I frowned at his comment. "I don't see what's so funny about that. I've killed countless cultists and Crafters alike, all without breaking a sweat." I tried to repress the memory of being tossed in lava by an idiotic Cobb and his sidekick. "No Crafter has come close to killing me."

Instead of ending his mirth, my argument seemed to spur on more laughs. "I…I remember…"

"Remember what?"

He opened his other eye, staring at me with malicious amusement. "I remember…You…back then…in Zeppil…"

At first, I thought he was rambling. Simple delusions brought on by the near-death experiences I was inflicting upon him.

But then a memory surfaced in my mind. One of a long time ago. Of a time I desperately wished to forget.

"You…" He looked directly into my crimson eyes. "Back then you were just a…sniveling…weakling."

"Shut up." I threatened lowly, gripping my navy blue jeans in…in…

What was I feeling?

"I remember…" Salt continued, enjoying the response he was getting from me. "We had just brought in a new…group of Crafters…for selection…"

"Shut up!" I raised my voice, panting in mounting anger. My hands were fumbling at my belt for the familiarity of my sword handle. But I was having trouble.

"How could I forget?" He sneered cruelly. "You were a wreck…hyperventilating…it took that friend of yours just to calm—"

I drove a fist into his mouth, silencing his words. Keeping them from reaching my ears. "DON'T TALK ABOUT HER!" I shouted as I slammed another fist into his throat. "DON'T EVER TALK ABOUT HER!"

I shook him violently, wanting to inflict as much pain on him as possible. No longer caring about possible information.

Salt just smirked victoriously. "Looks like…I riled you up…And all it took was…mentioning that friend of yours…how pathetic…"

That was the last straw. I lifted him by his robe and grinned viciously at him. "You've changed my mind. I think I will kill you now."

I downed a Strength Potion and dragged him away by his leg. With his body still paralyzed, he could do nothing to resist. Though it didn't keep his damned mouth from moving.

"You…you think you're strong? You're just another Crafter seeking revenge…" Salt coughed while being dragged through the snow. "So close-minded...You can't see…what we do is for the best of Minecraftia!"

I tried to tune him out as I passed the third wool likeness made by the artist. Screw information. I was about to kill the fucker in the most painful way possible.

"Crafters die all the time!" He continued. "But for those that cling to life, afraid, we cultists liberate them!"

"I'm about to liberate the hell out of you." I replied harshly before I saw the outlines of my intended destination.

"I don't fear death!" He shouted defiantly. "I welcome it! For it is in death, that a new life can begin! A life far superior to this accursed one of Mobs and survival!"

I released his leg and yanked him up by his robe. "Understand this." I began lowly, my crimson eyes alight with malice. "Dead is dead. You think there's a better life somewhere out there? You want to believe that? Well, that's a lie!

"When you die, that's it! There's no second chapter. No continuation. When you're dead, you're DEAD! Dead and gone! That's how I live! And that's how all Crafters live!"

My face adopted a devious expression as I pointed Salt's face away. "You see that?" I was referring to the outline of cobblestone along the ground, marked with several warning signs. "Know what that is?"

Salt's eyes widened in recognition. "You…you can't mean…"

"Ah, so you do know it." I lifted Salt into the air, sure that the paralysis effects he was under would soon wear off. "That is the Border. Part of an invisible dome of energy that surrounds Minecraftia like a fish bowl."

"Y-you can't…!" Salt protested, desperately trying to move his body.

I readjusted my hold so that he was raised high over my head. "Anyone that tries to cross that Border gets killed. Just look at all the signs they put up to keep Crafters away. And they even marked it with cobblestone."

"Carys!" Salt shouted. It took all his strength just to move his limbs. And even then it didn't do much.

"Why don't we see just how instant a death hitting that Border can be!?"

"You'll burn for this, Carys! The cultists—!"

"That's fine by me!" I shouted as I pulled my arms back. "I'll burn…but not before you fry!"

And with a grunt of exertion, I threw Salt against the Border. As soon as his body passed the cobblestone line, it abruptly stopped as if hitting a solid wall. Then, volts of electricity danced across his skin, jerking his body around and eliciting an earsplitting screech from him.

His body flashed a multitude of blinding colors before bursting in a pile of gear. Some of it passed the Border line, including his Head which rested on the snow just on the other side.

I panted, trying to calm myself down. I had become so incensed by a few measly words.

But I couldn't let that stop me.

"See?" I addressed, looking at Salt's disembodied Head. "Dead and gone…"

Silence was the only response.

I trudged back to the third wool likeness, all while muttering those same words in my head. My own mantra.

Dead and gone…

Dead and gone…

Dead and gone…

When I got to the third likeness, a beautiful picture of my faithful Mr. Piggles in all his pure adorableness, I didn't hesitate to light it. I watched as the flames consumed my faithful steed.

"Dead and gone…" I spoke aloud. Observing the three Snow Prints I had obtained. Cobb, Floyd, and Mr. Piggles.

The dead had no effect on the living. They were gone. Forever. And nothing could bring them back.

"Dead and gone." I repeated, regaining a bit of the composure I lost to Salt.

But the dead would at least be avenged.

The Endward Cult. King_Cobb. Flawwed_Floyd.

They and anyone else that got in my way would pay for their actions. Until they too were dead and gone.

Things like killing are second nature to me.

Second nature for the Angel of Death.

[Elsewhere]

In an underground cavern, several dozen Crafters mined away at the durable rock with stone picks. All while a cruel taskmaster shouted out obscenities.

"Pick up the pace, ladies! If you don't work, you don't eat!" The taskmaster roared while slapping the slower miners with his diamond shovel. "That goes double for you, new guy!"

The taskmaster pointed a finger at the new guy in the back. A recent acquisition from the plains.

The new guy tried to protest to the taskmaster's commands, but received a diamond shovel across the face. "Don't waste your energy flapping your jaw! That cobblestone won't mine itself! Now back to work!"

The new guy rubbed the spot where he was struck, royal blue eyes pleading, and flinched as the taskmaster raised his shovel threateningly. With no more words of protest, the new guy raised his pick and struck at the rock.

With an arrogant sneer, the taskmaster turned to observe the other miners. Though 'miners' was too generous a word. 'Slaves' would be more appropriate for the type of work being done without pay.

The new guy wiped some sweat from his forehead. The clothes he wore—a fine black suit and a white collared shirt with a red tie and dress pants—were out of place for the work he was doing.

How did this happen so suddenly? The new guy thought to himself as he swung his pick back down. What did I do to deserve this kind of luck?

"Hey, Nowhere." One of the new guy's fellow miners nudged. "I know it's your first day, but trust me, you don't want to piss these guys off. They can be cruel."

The new guy turned to regard his fellow miner. "My name's not Nowhere."

"But…the name above your head—"

"Just call me Noman."

AN: I feel really good about this Chapter. It's not exactly happy, and there's little humor. But I feel good about it.

The focus was Carys. And I felt like she got the focus she deserved.

Plus, remember Noman? If not, go back to Chapter 27. He's been gone for a long, long time. But I intend to remedy that with the next couple of chapters. Cross your fingers and pray I can pull this off.

Omake: Stranger Danger

"How are you holding up, darling?"

"Fine, dear. Just fine."

The artist, Leo, laid his wife on the bed in the safety of their home. After everything that happened, he decided to take the rest of the day off. Making sure his beloved wife wasn't shaken by the ordeal.

"Patricia, do you remember any of what happened?" Leo asked with concern. "Like the woman that did this. Carys, was it?"

Patricia nodded while holding her head. "Yes...yes I remember. She came to the house and asked about you. I thought she was just another of your fans."

"If she is, I'll do everything in my power to see that she is banned from all my fan-clubs." Leo stated with a conviction he thought sounded cool. Though given the context, it sounded rather lame.

"Thank you, honey." Patricia thanked with a kind smile.

"It pains me just thinking how she assaulted you." Leo wondered whether he should alert the guards...or would that only bring more trouble from that Carys lady.

Patricia raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I wasn't assaulted." She clarified. "I think she just knocked me out when my back was turned."

"Huh?" Leo questioned. "You turned your back to her?"

"Yes. After we left the house-"

"You left the house with this woman!?" Leo shouted incredulously. "What made you think that was a good idea?"

"Well, at first I was against it. But then, she said that she knew of a place with free cookies and kittens." Patricia explained to a shocked Leo. "So I thought - Free kittens? I got to see that! - And I followed her. But then when we started going down an abandoned and kittenless alley, I realized something was up."

"No kidding." Leo replied flatly.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would lie about free kittens." Patricia slapped a fist into her open palm as if realizing something. "She must be a really evil person to have lied about that."

"This is what happens when we talk to strangers. Next time it'll be you getting into a windowless warehouse or something." Leo couldn't believe how gullible his wife was.

"I'd never get led into a windowless warehouse." She assured with an easygoing smile.

"What if there were kittens in it?"

"..."

"..."

"...Free kittens?"

AN: Remember, if you see a sign on a windowless van that offers free candy and kittens...

Make sure to round up a bunch of people to tip the van over. That'll show those strangers.