The hooded man in the back raised his hands to the air, drawing motes of light from the surrounding energy and weaving them into something of a brown rod. Lorelei circled him slowly, and he mirrored her, taking a step sideways for every step she made. Once enough energy had gathered around her body, she lunged — but her target was not the man before her. It was the hooded man behind him. She vaulted onto his shoulders, using him as a springboard, and launched herself forward. Caught off guard, the hooded man stumbled back in terror. Her blade swept within an inch of his face — until his boss interjected with a single punch that sent her tumbling across the snow, rolling to a halt.
"Frail body you've got there," he laughed, then turned to his partner. "Get your thing ready again."
Lorelei coughed, forced herself upright, and reset her stance. She resumed her assault, striking relentlessly at every opening, but the muscular man was no beginner. He blocked each blow with an easy, practiced grace. She feinted at his face; he grabbed her blade. She raised her gun and aimed it between his eyes.
"Let me go," she said.
"You attacked us first, little missy. And you killed five of my guys," he replied, glancing at the body of a former crew member, whose blood now painted the first snow a deep, spreading crimson.
"You were going to capture me anyway."
"Aw… I'm sad to hear you have such a bad impression of us mercenaries. Maybe some of us do that, but—"
"But?" she pressed.
"We're one of them!" he roared. He released her sword, leapt back, and signaled. A colossal iron rod came hurtling at her.
Lorelei just barely deflected it, but the impact sent tremors of pain through her hands. Before she could blink, the man was in front of her, driving a fist into her abdomen, then a rapid barrage of blows, each carrying the full weight of the last. Somewhere in the chaos, her eyepatch fell away — and he saw the number six in her eye. He launched himself backward to his partner's side.
"What are you?" he asked, all pretense of carelessness gone. "Some kind of mutated monster?"
Lorelei dropped to her knees, blood dripping from her face.
"I asked you a question. What are you?" he repeated, shouting now. "Are you with those Arsetlan bastards?!"
The ticking of the clock intensified; her vision swayed.
"If you die right now, they'll see you come back to life."
"How… how long… does it take?" she whispered between ragged breaths.
"In your current state, it would take me nine hours to reconstruct your inner organs."
"…"
"I don't recommend it, but there's another option."
"What?"
She heard his footsteps, slow and deliberate, crunching through the snow toward her.
"I could manually pump your heart to its limit — but only for a short while. It would increase your heart rate and energy flow. That would give you about seven seconds to move before your heart bursts. It's basically suicide."
His footsteps drew closer until they halted directly before her.
"Do you want to risk it?"
She heard the metal of his gauntlets clatter as he raised his hand.
"Do it."
Her heart surged — not just blood, but energy flooded through her limbs, distributing itself evenly to every corner of her body. The glove came down at her head, but her sword was already up. She deflected it, knocked him off balance, and sent him sprawling with a kick.
"6"
Her blade carved through the snow, reappearing before him in a blur. She lifted it — drove it through his leg.
"5"
She wrenched it free and swung once more, taking his head clean off.
The hooded man, who had watched the entire scene unfold, collapsed to the ground. He scrambled through the snow, desperate, until his back met a tree trunk. Lorelei advanced on him slowly.
"Wait. Wait! Please! Wait!"
"4"
"Wait! Please! I'm not part of this! I was dragged into this! Please!"
"3"
"I'm not in this, I swear! This is my first time! I'll never, never, ever do it again! Believe me, please! I needed the money!"
"2"
"I beg you—"
"1"
Lorelei lunged, blade extended, and drove it clean through his chest into the tree. She placed her hand on the hilt, ready to twist and carve his heart loose — but her own heart came to an abrupt, grinding stop.
"0"
She fell flat on the snow before him, and her heart burst inside her chest. The force of the explosion shattered her ribs outward, exposing the hollow they had protected. A slow death, quietly masked by the ticking of clocks and the red veil of her own blood curling over her eyes.
0 000 007
"Argh! Someone help! Help!"
The hooded man quivered, struggling to pull the sword from his chest, but his movements froze the moment he saw white particles beginning to reconstruct Lorelei's broken body. Nearly forgetting his own pain, he watched as the pure white energy swirled, hardening into crystal that outlined her new form. Then it shattered and dissipated — leaving behind a body like a sinless doll. Every movement she made held his gaze: the moment her eyes opened, the soft groan that escaped her lips. The blood splattered across her shirt and jacket evaporated entirely. Her disfigured face rebuilt itself, flawless. Her missing organs replaced with new ones.
"How…"
Lorelei rose and looked down at him.
"What… what are you?"
She pulled the blade from his torso, and his hood fell back, revealing dark hair spilling into the snow. He pushed himself up on worn, trembling hands, barely managing to stand. Lorelei watched him in silence. The thought of escape had already left his mind. Fighting her was impossible in his state — and even if she spared him, the cold would claim him soon enough. He dropped to his knees, lifted his face to hers, and clasped his hands as if in prayer. Scars and marks of old abuse traced his features. A tear rolled down his cheek, then another, and another. This was not a desperate plea for mercy. It was an act of acknowledgment. He had seen the white particles with his own eyes, felt their warmth settle over him. They had made him forget his pain and lose sight of his own life.
"An angel…" he whispered.
It was the only conclusion that made sense. The white particles gathered around her, forming something like a wing extending around her left eye and covering her number. There was nothing else to call her. An angel to mortal eyes. An untouchable figure. An existence blessed by a god they could only believe in.
Lorelei slowly pulled her hand from its glove and held it bare before his face. Instead of fear, he felt only patience — awaiting what he believed to be deliverance. His bruised face, softened by a gentle smile, waited as her hand lowered and finally touched his cheek.
"Thank you."
It was the only words that could be spoken. As if nothing else would do. His body began to decompose into wisps of frail purple, and with them came flashes of memory — recollections of his life, his existence, the person he had been.
"Manny."
That was his name. It was what the people in his memories called him — the name given to him at birth. The particles faded into the sky, and Lorelei bowed gently before turning away.
"A creative mind."
She stopped at the voice.
"What do you mean?"
"The color they dissipate into," the voice answered. "It represents them. The person they were."
Lorelei had never considered it that way, but as she recalled, it all fell into place. Silvia and Maria's bright yellow. The town woman's caring pink. The kindled blue of the little boy. It all made sense now. She pressed a hand to her chest and bowed again — a gesture of respect for every soul she had taken, every existence she had erased, every naked personality she had witnessed.
She marched on past the decapitated body, retrieved her fallen eyepatch, and wrapped it around her eye, now marked with the number seven. She picked up her gun, set her gaze on the pillar ahead, and nodded.
"Alright."
Once again, she set off toward her objective.