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Arc I Chapter 8

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“Aargh!” His war cry echoed across the plain as he charged into his demise. In his ignorance, the young knight attacked.

Aurora grinned. The boy underestimated her. They usually did, but not for long. Her attacker proved an easy target. The boy was inexperienced, reckless. His stance offered multiple openings. His technique lacked refinement. His footwork was mediocre. His balance terrible.

The boy was young, barely an adult, yet he was determined to kill her. So young, yet so eager to forfeit his life. Her heart pitied the boy, but only slightly. Pity was a commodity rarely affordable on the battlefield.

In the blink of an eye, his fate was sealed. Aurora ducked, dodging his blade. His reaction was slow. His defensive skills lacklustre. Her counterattack aimed for his exposed legs. Strengthened by her mana, her kick cut him down with scythe-like precision. The boy hit the ground.

The boy gripped his sword. He resisted, but resistance was futile. Her saccharin grin welcomed her newest victim.

Aurora drove her heel into his chest with relentless brutality. Once. Twice. Thrice. His ribs cracked beneath her assault. The boy gasped for air as desperation gripped him. His arm weakened and his grip loosened, finally releasing his sword. It only took some minor persuasion before acquiring his sword and turning her new blade against its former wilder.

No hesitation. No doubt. Her hands served judgement and rammed her steel through his throat. Her blade tasted the luring taste of blood. Her steel thirsted for more and she was happy to oblige. The boy's life ended soaked in crimson.

Aurora greeted the enemy with her cutest smile. Their faces had paled. Gone was their previous confidence, replaced by outright terror. They witnessed a monster, a demon from the deepest depths of hell. Yet the battle raged on.

Her mana still defied her, unstable, fluctuating, an unreliable ally at best. As things stood, she couldn't rely on her magic.

Her petite hands struggled to wield the weight of her blade. Tiny, unblemished, smooth like silk, they lacked her strength, her endurance, her skill ...

These weren't her hands ... This wasn't her body ..., wasn't it? Her clumsy movements ... Her slow reflexes ... Her terrible coordination ... Her disorientation ... Her headache ...

Not her instincts failed her, her body did. Her muscles were unable to keep up with her pace. They lagged behind, slowing her down. Her body had shrunk a few years.

The humorous tides of fate had turned her into a little girl, a cute little girl, possibly the cutest little girl across the entire realm. Her appearance was adorable like sugar, a true paragon of supreme huggly cuddliness. Her fluffy black hair. Her pale complexion resembling polished marble. She even approved of her ostentatious yet cute choice of clothing. The frills suited her. Everything was better with frills.

Her petticoat, her blouse, the use of lace and ruffles, felt ... appropriate, even natural. It was her destiny to be dressed like a lovely human doll. What she lacked was an umbrella, but missing accessories were the least of her worries. Being a cute, huggable little girl didn't prevent her from being killed. Quite the contrary, her new body proved ... detrimental, fragile, frail. Even wielding a simple sword strained her underdeveloped muscles. Fortunately, the enemy didn't press their advantage.

A gleeful smirk crossed Auora's lips, showing no weakness, no fear. This fight would be a close run thing. “Oh, my, what a shame. I hoped he would last longer.~ So who wants to try his luck next ⁓? I hope you don't keep a little girl waiting ⁓. I feel so bored without your precious company ⁓. I need some strong men to entertain me ⁓. Or do you really already want to leave ⁓?” I

“You fucking bitch!” Guenther exploded. He would kill this slut and piss on her fucking grave! And if it was the last thing he did! He had received the order from high-up to eliminate Aurora, the last heiress of the House of Schwarz.

He didn't ask questions. The less you knew about such delicate matters, the better, but circumstances had changed. The mission had turned into a personal matter.

Guenther clenched his fists. He would make the girl suffer. He would make her pay. Readying his blade and his remaining mana, he channelled his magic and invoked the power of lightning. Electrical sparks gathered, only waiting to be unleashed. The powers of magic were on his side. He would get his revenge.

“Fulmen!” Layers of arrays formed. Luminescent circles rotated around his sword., their ancient glyphs glowing in the dark as they absorbed his mana.

Aurora didn't bat an eyelid. The spell charged, targeting her. Not that she wasn't used to this kind of friendly reception. Hardly a novelty.

The spell activated. Thunder roared as a brilliant bolt of lightning pierced the darkness of the night. A stream of heated plasma shot forwards, destined to vanquish everything its way.

Exhaustion overcame Guenther. His lungs were panting, but it was worth it. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face. Battling Geralt took a toll, and his previous spell cost him his remaining mana. He might be a mage knight, but even his reserves were limited. Nevertheless, the girl was finally gone ...

The sound of clapping hands echoed through the night. Uneasiness overcame Guenther.

The girl stood before them, unscratched, unfazed. “Quite impressive, yet deeply disappointing. I have expected more.”

A smirk betrayed her amusement. “Hitting hard is important, my friend, but aiming is equally important.”

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