Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

"Oh please, I know this is all very emotional to you and all… But perhaps you should consider another way, your blade is never going to leave even a single mark on me" she simply stated, slowly turning to face Isilt, each and every of his furious strikes repelled, he couldn't even force her cloak to slightly bend inward as a result of his attacks, it was like battling against a statue, all seemed of the same durability, carved out of the same, impenetrable stone.

Gritting his teeth, she wasn't even pretending to be defending against his assault, just standing there, waiting for him to exhaust himself like a hyperactive child whose parents didn't want to deal with.

And that expression, mild amusement, eyebrows slightly raised, as if impressed by the utter lack of strength and skill in each of his movements, in all of his actions-

"Dammit! Run away Pitit!" freeing one hand from holding the hilt, he punched the assassin in the face, the only one feeling any pain being himself, he had thought that maybe, if he switched the sort of damage he was dealing…

"What about you and-"

"Just run! Don't worry about anyone else… I'll be catching up as soon as I defeat her" his sister didn't believe a word of it, but followed what he said anyways, remorsefully looking at the two felled knights and Isilt's back as she ran off, Tarq and Ilte were not yet dead, but it was unlikely that they were going to get up again.

'How did she manage to slip away completely from Sir Aramap's attention?!'

Smirking, The Death Dealer extended both arms, her cloak parting ways, as though inviting Isilt to try hitting something other than the cloak, just so he could see for himself that it was equally as worthless perhaps.

"Defeat me? Have you grown a third ball or something? Perhaps a secret technique passed down the generations that no one has ever heard of and that coincidentally perfectly fits the situation? Is your next strike going to draw blood from me after being fueled by the power of familial love?" willfully stepping up to him, the tip of his sword right up against her chest, aimed to the center of the beating heart within.

"Let me tell you Isilt, I have seen many things, many ridiculous things… I can not put into words how much I would love for you to pull out something even more ridiculous!" feeling the fin-limier's warm breath on his face as she got awfully close, the trainee frowned, stepping back.

"I don't know why you are so hard to cut, but I was taught one thing about seemingly indestructible foes…" breathing in and out, trying to calm his nerves, his muscles felt like they were burning, swinging with full force at such a tough opponent repeatedly was definitely exhausting work, even more so when done with full knowledge that it was not going to work, still whilst reason and instinct both fell in accordance concerning the direness of this situation, hope and disillusion were going strong.

'Just one good strike' they said in unison

'There must be a limit to her resistance' they whispered into his ears.

'Someone will arrive and defeat her, you just need to hold out a little longer' they claimed with conviction.

But as things went, these murmurs grew less believable.

'It's all just a dream, you will soon wake up'

Hope was beginning to be infected by desperation… disillusion turning to madness.

And when that well came to become entirely dry as well, all pretences were dropped, Silt actual thoughts on the situation slipping through the cracks formed upon the shell he used to convince himself to keep trying.

'As long as Pitit can get away… It does not matter whether I win or die…'

"What was that? You began a sentence and didn't finish it, you know little guy… You better conclude what you starts when it comes to a lady-" she retrieved a one-handed warhammer from beyond the veil of her cloak, running one finger across its head "-Otherwise, she might feel a bit insulted"

"...I was taught that some parts of the body were always weaker than the rest!" finishing his sentence, Isilt kicked off the ground, putting his whole weight into this thrust, nothing resounding as the blade made contact, the knight-in-training only feeling like cursing.

All that he could see was that damn smile, Maliah had shown a variety of them, the expressions she wore upon her visage were diverse, all disturbing in their own rights, be it by their simple look or by the simple fact that they were upon her face, but this one, just a small grin, the sort that was supposed to be charming, the kind a fair maiden directs at the one who had stolen her heart from across a crowded room as an ultimate show of affection and tenderness.

That was exactly what that beast of a woman had formed her mouth into, as the tip of Isilt's blade pushed up against her very eye, keeping it wide open, not even making any attempt to move away, she did not care, having been perfectly confident from the very beginning that the trainee's blade would never manage to even prickle her flesh.

Isilt could only remain in place, and just keep on pushing harder, what else was there for him to do? He could not run away from this animal, and there were no greater weak points on the human body than its ocular globes, no, he could only persevere and hope that his efforts would bear fruits.

Maliah blinked, and as her eyelid closed, part of the blade was chipped away, once, twice, thrice, five times, seven times…

"What sort of hole did you crawl out of?" as if his blade was reduced to near nothingness, he dropped it, but did not move from his spot.

"Some have said that I had crawled out of Hell, others that I had been spat out by the Abyss… All sorts of vile places were supposedly lined up to be my hometown… But the truth is, that the only hole I clawed my way out of was that everyone else slipped out like pieces of dung… I was born in a nice little place, a village lost and neglected, it was a nice place indeed, I could do what I wanted away from prying eyes in all of those woods, I truly thrived…"

Grabbing the youth's head, her expression shifting to a broader smile.

"Why do you look so sad, Isilt? Gonna cry? Want a little kiss on your forehead? Do you? You should, you would be the first to get a kiss from Maliah, the renowned Death Dealer~"

Putting his palm on the assassin's approaching face, Isilt had never felt so disgusted in all of his life.

"I would rather drown in a cesshole than have your face anywhere close to mine!"

"Aww… Really? That's nice, it really is! I truly left a good impression in so little time, huh? I can't believe Loimos was right on this, taking an extended break has made me so much more talented!"

"Loimos?"

"Oh, everyone is always eager to talk about him whenever he is mentioned, heh? But don't bother, if you are interested, I'll get your corpse-self to go and shake his hand, I can arrange that, he is my best and only buddy after all" Continue reading stories on My Virtual Library Empire

Repositioning her hold upon Isilt's head, without declaring her intentions, shoved her thumbs into his eyes, slowly forcing him to the ground as though tucking the trainee to bed.

"I'll make sure you keep that look as an undead, you are absolutely dashing"

Straightening her back, Maliah pulled out a small pocket watch.

"Goodness gracious, you really don't notice time passing when having fun" she commented to herself, immediately struck by five consecutives javelins in the face.