404 - Being Not Found

"That wasn't a question," John said, narrowing his eyes at the mercenary lordess. Technically it also hadn't been an order, which was probably why she had been able to say "no" at all.

"I already told you, I don't want to be free. I want you to kill me," Arista said, her gaze unwavering.

"I'm not going to kill you. You've paid for what you did, and I may still hate you, but I said I would set you free after our trip. I intend to keep my word."

"I don't want you to keep your fucking word!" Arista spat. "I spent thirty years of my life as a ****, under such strict control I couldn't even go to the bathroom at my own will. When I finally got my freedom back, I swore that I would never be a **** again, no matter what it cost me. Honor, morals, friends... family... I sold out everything. I did everything I could and still wound up shackled again. If my life is going to be nothing more than long periods of living in that misery, punctuated by the briefest moments of freedom tainted by a constant struggle and the knowledge that I will soon return to that living hell... Then I choose ****."

John grimaced as he listened carefully to Arista's words. Were she anyone else, John might have comforted the clearly distressed woman. Might have told her that he intended to change things, to create an Abyss where a constant fear of enslavement wasn't justified…

But he didn't have it in him. He couldn’t give that kind of hope and comfort. Not to her.

"You can make that choice on your own, if that's what you want," John said dismissively. "I promised I would free you after our mission was over."

"And when my next master isn't so generous?" Hearing that word in such a negative, spiteful way put a grimace on John's face he knew he couldn't hide.

"Not my fucking problem," John spat, reaching out and tearing the collar away from Arista's neck.

The ripping motion caused a dull flash of blue light around Arista's neck as the **** collar's enchantments were forcibly ended via disconnection. And as the magical light flared, a far more physical explosion occurred, one of movement and momentum.

Arista wasted no time before she lurched forward, her hand already reaching for John's throat. Sophia and Layla reacted in unison, bursting toward her with lethal intent. But both of them were too far to stop what happened - that being the deafening sound of cracking as John planted an open-palmed strike on Arista's sternum hard enough to launch her a dozen feet away.

The former mercenary lordess let a rough grunt escape as she landed on her feet, though she was **** to stop raggedly enough that she was struggling to maintain her footing. Layla and Sophia were immediately rushing forward, putting themselves between her and John, claws and knife glistening as they approached the staggered woman with a lethal intent.

“STOP!”

John’s word reverberated against the cliffside with more **** and emphasis than even Arista’s staunch refusal of her own freedom, halting all of them in their places. A wave of **** fell across the landscape, and John felt a fire flaring in his chest.

“This is not justice. I will not be your executioner, Arista. Your punishment has been dealt. Sophia, Layla, leave her alone. I don’t care what she does - do not strike her!”

Everyone froze, including John himself. Sophia and Layla refused to meet each others’ gaze, but they did glance between Arista and John alternately. Arista slowly steadied her balance so that she could steady herself and rise fully to her feet, and although she did not move from that spot physically, her expression shifted rapidly between a typhoon of overpowering emotions.

“You cannot wash your hands of what you’ve done so easily,” Arista hissed. “You made the choice to enslave me. I won’t let you just walk away from the consequences!”

Arista started forward once more, her arm already pulling back for another strike. Sophia twitched, and Layla lunged. But John was already prepared for those reactions – he appeared between Layla and the enraged woman before either of them could strike, carrying himself with Orria’s Lightning Jump that was still copied by Purifier’s Muse. Layla halted her strike immediately when she noticed John in front of her – Arista continued with her left hook, but John deflected it with a quick elbow on his arrival. A burst of mana erupted from her fist as her arm reached full extension; even though the collar had been suppressing her mana, it seemed she had either retained or regenerated enough for at least some very basic, beginner-level spells.

“I chose to punish you. What happens after that is your own decision… and I will not let you **** my hand on this issue! I will leave you broken in this desert to die to the elements if you will allow nothing else, but I have made my judgement, and I will not kill you for this,” John growled, striking Arista with another quick kick outward, catching her shin and feeling the bone give way. Arista cried out in pain as she fell to one leg, her broken one resting limply on the ground.

John took two steps back, cautiously watching the downed warrior with disdain. “But, if you insist on this foolishness, I will make it as painful for you as possible.”

“You… you absolute fucking coward…” Arista wheezed, planting her hands on her shattered leg and forcing herself back to her feet, shaking and grimacing with pain. “At least give me a warrior’s ****! Give me the honor you denied me!”

“That’s not my job, nor my responsibility. If you want to die, take your own life. If you won’t do that, find another who will. It shouldn’t be hard in this Gaia-forsaken Abyss,” John spat. He turned, and began to walk away from the injured and downtrodden woman.

“I will… I will hunt you down. I will maim and kill anyone you care about. I will make you pay for this, I will make you regret the day you put that collar around my neck, John Newman! I swear it on my life!”

“Accept the consequences of your decisions,” John spat without glancing over his shoulder.

“Then accept yours!”

John paused mid-stride, his anger no longer concealed as a bloodthirsty scowl crossed his face. Even at Arista’s first act of defiance, a part of him had subtly desired to strike her down, to take the provocation as an excuse to slaughter her without mercy. Vallya’s laughter echoed in his mind as if taunting him to give in, to embrace the same joys she found.

“You truly won’t give up, will you? You’ll die by my hand, or at the very least by an accidental one while pursuing me?” John asked, his voice both hopeful and yet reserved.

“Look on the bright side,” Arista said, a defeat entering her voice that wasn’t there before. “I failed at protecting my own freedoms… maybe I’ll fail at pursuing you too.”

John’s reply fell dead on his lips, smart words failing as he understood the real weight of Arista’s words. It wasn’t so much her threats – although her knowledge of John’s ability and firsthand experience in his new world were a problem, she herself wasn’t much of an immediate danger. Instead it was the understanding of just how broken she truly was, and how firm her beliefs remained despite all she’d been through.

After being **** into her greatest fear of enslavement, Arista still insisted on not taking her own life. Was it pride? Honor? Something was driving her to insist on **** by combat, even after having her will to live completely shattered.

John strode forward before he even realized he was walking. Something was in his mind, neurons sparking with ideas that didn’t feel like his own, but somehow felt natural and right. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing himself until he was directly before Arista, reaching forward to cradle her chin with one hand in an almost gentle way.

”Do you yield your life to me?”

John spoke the words, though he wasn’t sure why. Everything suddenly felt rather distant, as though he were dreaming – he had an innate sense of things, things that he suddenly knew although he had no reason to know them. Knowledge of a life he’d never lived. Worlds expanded before him in the space between spaces, in the emptiness that was the universe itself. Threads weaved themselves between atoms, chaotic and wild… until Arista spoke.

“I yield my life to anyone willing to take it. If that is you… then so be it.”

The threads pulled taut, the worlds receded. One path opened before John, one he chose without choosing, one he walked without even knowing it was there.

”Purify.”

Blinding light erupted from Arista, covering not only her but the area around her, and physically forcing John back in a way that none of his other uses of the Skill had ever done before.

”What’s going on? Why did I do that? Why did it work? I don’t understand what-”

Shard of Bishamonten: Ascension Unlocked. Next reward at 25%

A whirl of wind so loud that John lost track of his own thoughts passed by, bursting from Arista’s location in one moment as the light began to fade, leaving behind something similar and yet oh so different. The glistening figure that John could see past the blinding lights was humanoid with no discernibly monstrous features, but it wasn’t until the light faded at last that John had even the slightest clue of what to expect.

Unlike most of his more recent creations, there had been nothing in John’s mind when he used that technique – he had no reason to expect it would work, had no reason to even activate it in the first place, so there had been no expectations or demands so much as casually passing through his thoughts. So it was with bated breath and a fearful anticipation that John watched the light dim, and a figure slowly emerge into reality around it.

Some part of him had expected a version of Arista to emerge, to be renewed and restored in an older state the way that Mithra had over a year ago. But it was not her that emerged… Instead, it was a woman who hardly even resembled the honed mercenary lordess.

Before John knelt a woman with long, brown hair that flowed and curled in a manner that would’ve taken any mortal woman hours to achieve half the level of perfection now on display, particularly given that those twirled locks fell just past her waistline. Her skin was fair and unblemished, pale but not overtly so. The woman’s figure was a slender one, so thin that it bordered on frail at times, most noticeably around her shoulders and waist.

That figure was contained in a powerfully elegant dress, one that was shocking both for being a creation of John’s born with clothing and also for the elegance and quality of it. Its scarlet red material flowed from her upper chest all the way to her feet, a strapless design that exposed all of her skin above her breasts as well as one leg through a slit that extended to only inches above her nether regions. It was a design of tiered skirts; multiple layers of pleats flowed down from her waist, a cascade of flowering fabric blossoms that would surely have been mesmerizing if she were only to stand and take but a few steps.

The woman’s relatively tight and revealing attire only emphasized her lack of musculature and her unassuming form. But despite her relatively meek physique, there was a power and strength in the emerald green eyes that shone outward from her very soul. A gentleness in everything about her, even the way she moved and breathed while kneeling there. It was something John hadn’t seen in a very long time – an innocence and curiosity that went even beyond Orria’s passion for research and discovery. A purity and newness that rivaled or perhaps exceeded even the Nekos’. A passion and enthusiasm for life itself that exceeded even…

???? ????
<John’s Creation>
Level 1 Human
10 / 10 HP
Relationship: 100
Alignment: 0

”So… so not only did I Purify a Human… but it created one as well.” John breathed, the words echoing in his mind. The weight of the realization felt like a meteor hovering over his head, overpowering, overwhelming, terrifying – and knowing very well that it hadn’t even hit him yet. Not truly. There were cosmic thoughts to be had, deep and unsettling ones… but for now, only one thought dominated John’s mind as he closed the distance between himself and the beautiful woman sitting on the desert ground. He knelt in front of her, watching the myriad emotions playing out across her eyes. As he reached out to her, she flinched – but only for a moment. She didn’t turn away as John’s fingers gently brushed her cheek.

“I’m… I’m John Newman. I understand this is all very confusing… for all of us, but I was wondering… who are you?” John asked, tilting his head slightly.

“That’s, um. That’s strange…” the brunette whispered, looking amused and curious.