A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Deathless Fortress]

Gretchen's gaze traced the geometry of her prison.

Translucent hexagonal panels of light slid into place one after another, sealing with a resonant sound that vibrated through her bones rather than her ears. The barrier was not oppressive in weight, but every angle was precise and every edge sharp. It closed in just enough to remind her that it was there, that escape was no longer an abstract concept but a problem now.

She lifted a hand and let her fingers brush the surface. The mana was cold and smooth. Solidified. Intentionally so.

Across from her, Koschei watched with open satisfaction.

"Surprised your transmutation isn't functioning?" he asked, his grin wide and unapologetic. Blood still darkened the ground near his feet, but even as he spoke, bone began to sprout from the bloodied stump where his arm had been severed. Veins followed, threading themselves into place, then muscle, then skin—an obscene reversal of injury, happening far too quickly to be natural.

He flexed the half-formed limb experimentally, as though it were merely stiff from disuse rather than newly regrown.

"Ordinarily," he continued, tone almost conversational, "you'd be able to transmute the walls of mana. Solidified or not, that's usually a trivial obstacle for someone of your caliber. In fact, I'd wager it would be easier for you." He tilted his head, studying her through the barrier as if she were an interesting specimen. "But there's an easy remedy for that, deary." His eyes gleamed. "I simply cover each spell in a layer of mana that constantly fights off your transmutation."

Gretchen did not respond aloud. Her expression remained composed, almost detached, as her hand slid along the barrier's inner surface, feeling for irregularities, delays, anything she could exploit.

("Ah. I see.") Her thoughts moved with far more urgency than her body betrayed. ("He expels the mana the instant my transmutation takes hold—then replaces it. Not after. Simultaneously. There's no delay at all. All of it is done in less than a second.")

Her fingers paused, resting flat against the light.

("And he's not reinforcing the barrier reactively. It's constant. A pressure system, not a wall.") She withdrew her hand and glanced down toward her feet. ("It encloses the ground as well. Completely sealed.") For the first time, a shadow of consideration crossed her eyes. ("I could transmute myself. Phase through. But that's… dangerous.") The thought lingered, unwelcome but persistent. ("If my brain or organs lose cohesion for even an instant, I die. And there's no margin for error inside a field like this.") Her gaze lifted again, sharp now, focused on Koschei. ("But the bigger question—how did he perform a spell of this scale so quickly?")

As if summoned by the thought itself, Koschei's grin widened.

"You're wondering how I managed it," he said lightly, tapping his staff against the ground. "I can see it in your eyes." He took a step closer. "Those spells you accused me of throwing around haphazardly?" he continued. "They weren't sloppy. They were merely preparation. Every burst of flame, every bolt of lightning—I let my mana linger. Sink into the walls. The floor. The air itself." He spread his arm, gesturing to the shattered fortress around them. "This place is saturated with me, deary. It's been mine since the moment we started." His voice lowered, almost intimate. "Once the groundwork was laid, solidifying the barrier was… trivial." His grin shifted, becoming something uglier, more lecherous. "So yes," he said softly. "Victory is mine."

He took another step forward.

"And now," he added, eyes dragging over her form without shame, "we're going to have a great deal of fun."

He licked his lips.

Inside the barrier, Gretchen exhaled slowly.

("I was hoping not to use something so risky.")

Her hand rose—not in panic, not even in haste, her intent was clear. She watched Koschei approach, her posture relaxed despite the tension coiling beneath her skin.

Then he stopped.

The shift was subtle at first—a hitch in his step, a tightening of his shoulders. His grin faltered. His eyes widened. Koschei looked down at his regenerating arm. The bone growth slowed. Stuttered. The veins beneath the skin darkened, then froze in place as though time had seized them. Horror crawled across his face, raw fear.

"W—what!?" he blurted, the word tearing out of him. His gaze snapped upward, staring at something that Gretchen could not see.

His breath quickened.

"No. No, that's—" He swallowed hard. "That's not possible."

Gretchen raised an eyebrow, her head tilting slightly.

The sudden, uncharacteristic fear unsettled her far more than the barrier had. Koschei did not seem like a man prone to doubt, let alone panic. But before she could analyze further, a voice drifted through the air—amused and entirely unwelcome.

"Come now, Gretchen," it drawled. "It won't do to be trapped like a little mouse."

Gretchen sighed.

She knew that voice.

Her eyes lifted toward the ruined upper walls of a fortress structure, where a figure stood. Golden fur caught the little light, almost glowing, and nine great tails swayed languidly behind her, each one moving with a will of its own.

Tamamo-no-Mae smiled down at her.

She leapt from the broken wall with grace, landing lightly on the ground as though gravity did not exist for her. The ruined stone did not even crack beneath her feet.

"Tamamo," Gretchen said flatly.

The fox spirit's grin widened as she approached the barrier, her steps unhurried.

"Seems you've been having some fun," Tamamo said, one of her tails brushing idly against the hexagonal light.

The barrier cracked. Just a thin fracture spreading outward from the point of contact. Another flick of her tail. The crack raced across the structure, spiderwebbing through every panel. In the next instant, the entire barrier collapsed, disintegrating into shards of light that vanished before they could touch the ground.

Gretchen stepped forward as though the barrier had never existed.

"I didn't need your help," she said.

Tamamo hummed, head tilting in mock offense.

"Is that really how you say thank you?" she asked. Then she gestured lazily toward Koschei with one tail, who now stood rigid, his body trembling, staff clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white. "Besides, I figured you'd have trouble with a semi-immortal opponent. So I decided to intervene."

"Immortal?" Gretchen echoed, her tone skeptical.

Koschei snarled.

"You— you!" he barked, thrusting his staff toward Tamamo with his remaining hand. "What did you do!?"

Tamamo turned her emerald eyes on him, utterly unbothered.

She smiled.

"Oh?" she said lightly. "Didn't you feel it?" Her tails fanned out behind her.

"Answer me!" Koschei bellowed again, his voice cracking. Tamamo's ears flicked, the sound clearly reaching her, but she did not look offended. If anything, she seemed amused.

"My, my," she said lightly, her tone almost sing-song. "You really could do with some manners."

Before Gretchen could object—or even register the movement—the golden fox spirit leapt upward. She landed effortlessly on Gretchen's shoulder, light as a feather, tails curling and swaying behind her. The sudden weight was minimal, but the intrusion was not.

Gretchen's jaw tightened. "Get off," she muttered, irritation sharp in her voice.

Tamamo ignored her completely. From her perch, she leaned forward slightly, emerald eyes fixed on Koschei.

"You," Tamamo continued, tilting her head, "have a very interesting kind of immortality."

Koschei stiffened.

"Hiding your soul outside your body in a needle," she began, voice calm, "which is inside an egg, within a duck, inside a hare, inside an iron chest—"

Her tails swayed lazily as she spoke.

"—buried under an oak tree," she finished, a grin spreading across her lips, "on an island."

She laughed then, bright and unrestrained, as if she had just recalled an absurd joke. The sound rang out strangely. Gretchen shot her a confused glance, brow furrowing. That reaction alone told Koschei everything he needed to know.

His face drained of color.

"Y-you…" he stammered, lips trembling. "You… but how!?"

Tamamo glanced at him sidelong, unimpressed.

"I saw a connection," she said simply. "Between your body and something else. Something very distant. Something that shouldn't be tethered so openly."

She tapped her temple with one paw.

"The eyes of yōkai are quite sharp," she added, almost idly.

Koschei's breath came shallow now, panic breaking through the layers of arrogance he had wrapped himself in for who knows how long.

Tamamo sighed.

"I didn't particularly feel like going to your island and destroying your soul," she went on. "That sounds exhausting. I'm far too lazy for that."

She smiled sweetly.

"But I did interfere." Her gaze sharpened. "I severed the connection. Just a little." She tilted her head again. "Rendering your regeneration null."

The words landed heavy.

Koschei staggered back, his feet scraping against broken stone. He looked down at his wounded body as if seeing it for the first time—at the blood that did not retreat, the flesh that did not knit itself back together.

"No…" he whispered.

"To be honest," Tamamo added, almost thoughtfully, "the way you built your immortality is terribly inelegant."

Koschei swayed, disbelief warring with dawning terror. The casual way she dismissed what had defined his existence—what had kept him untouchable—cut deeper than any blade.

"I don't understand what's happening…" Gretchen murmured, her voice low. Her gaze never left Koschei. "But from what I understand," she continued slowly, eyes narrowing, "he can't regenerate anymore. Right?"

She did not wait for an answer.

Her heel tapped against the ground.

The response was immediate.

Stone surged upward like water, the earth answering her call without hesitation. The floor buckled, rose, and twisted, transforming into a writhing torrent of spikes. They raced forward in a wave, destructive and fast, filling the space with grinding stone and a roaring force.

Koschei barely had time to react.

He lashed out with his staff, slamming it into the air before him. A thin violet barrier snapped into place, flickering under strain.

It did not hold.

The spikes tore through the barrier as if it were paper.

Koschei leapt back on instinct alone, but he was too slow. A spike pierced his abdomen with a wet, sickening sound. Another ripped through his leg, pinning him momentarily before shattering under the force of his fall.

He howled, pain ripping from his throat.

Swinging his staff wildly, he shattered the remaining spikes just enough to free himself. He rolled across the ground, blood splattering the stone, before collapsing heavily onto his side.

He spat blood onto the floor, chest heaving.

"D-damn it…" he rasped.

The pain did not fade.

It stayed.

No warmth of regeneration followed. No comforting pull of his body correcting itself. He lay there, shaking, unable even to push himself upright.

"How brutal," Tamamo commented casually, tails swaying behind her. "I gather he made you quite angry?"

She glanced at Gretchen.

Gretchen did not answer. She simply moved forward, step by step.

Koschei noticed her then.

His heart hammered as he sluggishly turned away, dragging himself across the ground with his remaining arm. It was difficult—humiliating—with only one arm and a body that refused to obey.

"N-no…" his thoughts spiraled. "It can not end like this…"

Desperation etched itself into every wrinkle of his face.

He heard her footsteps behind him. Slow and steady. With each step, a strange sensation crept in—cold, unfamiliar and terrifying.

Fear.

"No…" he whispered aloud.

Then—something blocked his view.

A hem of fabric.

A dress.

Familiar slippers. Stockings he had seen countless times before. The suddenness of the presence made Gretchen stop short, her advance halted instinctively.

Koschei slowly lifted his gaze.

Dark hair framed a perfectly beautiful, pale face. Unnatural crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as they looked down at him. Rosy lips curved into a smirk.

Ella.

She stood there calmly, hands folded, as though she had always been part of the scene.

"Shall I save you, Koschei?" she asked softly.