The Villainess is the Villainess [LitRPG]

Book 2: Chapter 35 - The Realm of the Four Gods

Sound fled. A note resonated, vibrating marrow. Power, hungry for hope and terror, drank greedily from their collective pulse. Violet mist coiled up their legs like ghostly ivy, numbing skin and stealing warmth. Desdemona's resolve buckled; she half-turned to bolt, but Gravens' gauntleted hand anchored her, calm steel over quaking shoulder.

Reality lurched. The library stretched, snapped, and shattered into shards of starlight. Time spun and stalled, a coin flipped in the amethyst void.

When the light died, eight figures stood beneath a false autumn's sky—and the Trial began.

They stood in a small forest clearing where several massive trunks lay toppled, the saplings that would one day replace them still unborn. Seraphina's gaze swept the scene as she hurried through a headcount—everyone was present. Three possible starting points existed for this Trial; sheer luck had kept the party together. Probably her Luck.

Overwhelmed by the moment, Desdemona lurched toward a nearby bush and began to retch.

"Milly, see to Lady de Savant," Seraphina ordered, her voice clipped. "It won't do if she is not herself."

"At once, milady," the maid replied, rifling through one of the brothers' packs for water and a handkerchief.

While Milly tended Desdemona, Seraphina assessed the rest of her party. Already slowing us down, she thought with an impatient tut. Why did I bring her at all? I must have been out of my mind.

She turned a slow circle. Trees—nothing but more and more trees. She knew their destination, yet the "how" of getting there eluded her.

"Frest," she called to the former bandit-turned-knight, "which way is northwest?"

Frest shaded his eyes, gauging the sun's angle. "That way, milady."

The towering brothers, Giles and Krayton, nodded in agreement.

"Excellent. Ladies and gentlemen, that is our heading." She clapped her hands. "Come along—chop-chop!"

***

Trudging through the undergrowth, Seraphina could not help but question how she had chosen to enter the Trial. Why had she made everyone to enter through the book in the library, just like the game? Surely she could have slipped the book out, trotted to the stables, and brought a few horses along for the journey. Of course, the game likely enforced some arbitrary limit, like an arcane radius on the tome—carry it too far and it would probably detonate in a burst of eldritch confetti for all she knew. The noblewoman had ultimately chosen to make the safest and best call she could with the facts she had. Later would be the time for experimentation. Still, a part of her wished she had tried to bring some mounts into the library; seeing a pair of horses wedged between the reading desks and shelves would have been worth a reprimand from the librarian.

The large sword on her shoulder caught on a low-hanging branch, a now repeat occurrence, which caused a small spark of irritation to flare.

Seraphina would worry about the limits of "The Realm of the Four Gods" later, when she sent Ibn to clear this Trial. Perhaps she would even get him to do it in the "normal" way, after all, the boy needed some challenge in his life. However, for now, it seemed they had either arrived before the scripted events of the dungeon or had simply wandered off-course, because no column of smoke marked a burning village.

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Almost as if the world took offense, a shrill scream split the air. Whoever was yelling clearly was not enjoying the conditions in their present life.

"A cry for help! Finally, at last, we are getting close. So off we go!" Seraphina declared, pointing toward the direction of the scream. "Desdemona, scout ahead."

"Is that altogether wise, milady?" Gravens asked, his handsome brow creasing with worry.

Desdemona rested a hand on his arm, earning a withering glance from Eloise. "I shall be quite all right," she said, hesitant but firm. "I have… certain abilities."

"The lad's right," Frest added, rubbing his chin. "It isn't proper to send a girl off alone. I'll scout ahead instead, milady."

It seemed that Knighthood was rewiring Frest's brain—Seraphina had little use for an overly chivalrous Frest who went about saving damsels in distress. Probably one his new acquired habits of trying to show off for Miss Templeton. She needed to nip this in the bud before it spoiled his "unique" properties.

"Are you questioning my orders?" Her tone turned glacially cold. "I know exactly what Desdemona can do. She is far more capable than she appears."

"Not at all, milady." Frest shrugged, his voice brushing the edge of insolence. "Only offering my view of the situation. After all, Lady de Savant is unarmed. Should we not at least…"

Seraphina held up a dainty hand. "She will do much better without a sword or dagger. It would just get in the way," she explained, turning towards her friend.

"Please go ahead, Desdemona." Seraphina's smile turned warm as summer. "The sooner we finish this Trial, the sooner I can savor one of your teas."

Desdemona nodded, slipped into the thicker undergrowth, and vanished behind a broad oak. Gravens moved to follow, but Seraphina's icy glare rooted him in place.

"That would be boorish of you. Give a lady her privacy, Sir Knight."

Gravens looked like he had been slapped.

There was a rustle, then the crash of something large plowing through brush in the direction of the scream.

"I do hope Desdemona controls herself," Seraphina murmured. "Though a little rampage might help loosen her up—she's been rather tightly wound as of late."

The rest of the party simply stared at the heir to the Sariens Duchy.

"What exactly is Lady de Savant's… special talent, milady?" asked one of the brothers—Giles, who, Seraphina noticed, had grown stockier since arriving in Meridian; in fact, both brothers' faces looked a touch rounder.

She let a thin, cold smile curve her lips. "A lady is allowed her secrets. Desdemona would not appreciate us prying."

Still, their uneasy expressions made even her worry.

"Truly, she could probably clear this entire Trial by herself if she'd stop holding back," Seraphina huffed as if this was explanation enough.

The original Seraphina could relate to Desdemona. In fact, that was probably why they had such a high affinity with one another. Seraphina had spent years drilling herself to restrain and hide her certain unnatural Strength. Perhaps in much the same way Desdemona had been taught to also hide certain aspects of her Change. This Seraphina, however, cared little for such theatrical self-denial. In herself and in others.

"But what lies ahead, Lady Seraphina?" the doll-like Eloise asked. "What caused that scream?"

"Oh, just an invading army tormenting an NPC—" Seraphina caught herself; these people would never grasp gaming nomenclature. "—a hapless village. Desdemona can travel much faster than us, but it would be rude to let her handle everything. Let us hurry along."

"Yes, we should aid those villagers! It is a Knight's duty!" the noble Sir Gravens exclaimed.

"Remember," Seraphina said, almost conversationally, ignoring her Knight's outburst. "None of this is actually real. The Divines set this Trial as a test for us 'mere mortals' to prove our worthiness." Part of her had to perform mental gymnastics even to say so—wasn't this whole world arguably unreal? An unreality within an unreality?

"So, Frest." She gestured to his heavy crossbow. "No need to fret about friendly fire on anyone outside of our group."

Frest flashed a wry grin. "Never worried much before either, milady."

"Excellent." Seraphina turned on her heel. "Now—let's save some villagers before Desdemona goes a bit over the top."