Chapter 1933 – Layla’s Direction [Layla POV]
It was bitterly cold outside.
Of course the world was cold in all places that John’s presence did not touch. It was just that this current place she was at was cold in every single way. Snow, winds, clouds, everything was cold. The people were warm enough, but Layla did not care about the people. All she needed from them was food and the occasional stay at a hostel.
Everything beyond that was a distraction from her goal.
Layla had ditched Inferna a few days ago. After they had made that call to John, the justified stalker had destroyed the phone from pure nervousness. No matter, they had gotten the message through anyhow. She couldn’t call him again after for the same reason she had left Inferna behind: while Layla had her ways to escape Izha’s gaze, neither Inferna nor John did.
Anything she shared about herself could have warned her target on what was about to happen. That was a risk she could not run.
She was also reaching the edge of where she could run.
The forests of northern Alaska were, in every conceivable way, inhospitable. Layla was a decently powerful Abyssal, strong enough that she could have led her own little group of cronies, had her ambitions been left within the thoughts of a boring, sane person. She had some ability in fire magic in addition to her aura sensing and manipulation, so heat wasn’t necessarily the problem.
Everything else was complicated.
To start with, she had no idea where exactly she was going. She had been following whatever traces of Izha’s power she could get a grip on, a factor that was getting easier as she moved closer to where he was. She had a direction, but no true sense of distance. For all she knew, it was hundreds of kilometres into the wilderness.
Layla would need equipment to go out there and to squat it out while waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Even if she could mask herself from the Loryilm, she would only get one shot at this.
‘Just go and kill! Kill! Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab him in his ugly, parent-murdering face. Cut his cock off. Slice his throat. Drain the blood into a pool of gasoline and set it on fire! YES! FIRE AND STABBING!’ The constant stream of suggestions filled her with the animating spirit to just get out there. Running on pure emotion had worked for her before. Impulsive, lust and love driven decisions had delivered her into the arms of Claire and that had been one long success story!
If she was delivered into the arms of Izha and Tiamat, though…
‘Take a deep breath. Remember what you learned. Patience is a virtue.’ Layla stared out of the window of the hostel she was currently staying at. It was dark outside. It was almost always dark outside at this time of year in Alaska. Layla did not like it. John and her fellow haremettes were best appreciated in proper lighting. ‘Then again, darkness would heighten the sense of touch…’
Layla shook her head, banishing the pleasant fantasies to a day in the future. Her body protested the lack of pleasure. After months of spending more time in or near climax than not, there were certain expectations she had gotten used to. Too bad for her Pavlovian instincts that there was only one reason to orgasm and he wasn’t around! In fact, only bad girls would indulge themselves while there was someone who deserved decapitation out there.
Polishing her knife instead was the pastime of her choice. The plain weapon could be nothing but pristine when it slipped between Izha’s ribs. She herself had also been cleaned up, her clothes replaced with a fresh set. When she splattered herself with the gore of the Lorylim’s profane form, she wanted to feel it. Every droplet of spilled ichor would be a mark on her skin that she had enacted rightful vengeance.
‘But how do I get there?’ Layla returned to the issue at hand. ‘I’ll need snow boots, a backpack, a tent, a sleeping bag, and enough food for several days minimum and I have no money left, urgh.’ She had been lucky that, so far, she had only been asked for identification once. She had gotten out of that by quickly putting together some sob story about an abusive husband.
That luck would not get her the resources she needed.
‘Why can’t the weather be good enough that I can run on hate alone!’ Layla complained about reality. It had a tendency of getting in her way.
Despite knowing what she would find, she opened the purse that Inferna had left her with. Someone of her level always had millions flying around. She proved that much by withdrawing as much money as the bank would let her and giving all of that to Layla for the trip. Money that was, save for a singular $10 bill, spent.
‘How do I get out there?’ she asked herself. ‘Not a question I will get answered in here.’
Layla jumped off the chair and hurried over to the mirror in the bathroom. She gave herself one more inspection to make sure she had no wounds, scars, or growing infections. The former two would have been wonderful fuel for the hate she had for the Lorylim. How could they dare harm even more of John’s precious life by marring her? The last would mean she would have some carving to do. She’d sooner become a pretty corpse than one of them.
After she had assured that she was still a thigh-heavy, adorable brunette, she went back to her discarded clothes. Putting them on was the only time she let the knife leave her hand and the moment she had thrown over the jacket, she hid it in an inside pocket. She barely remembered to put it in its grey sheathe first. The odd material, neither wood nor metal nor stone, received the blade fluidly. The two items were linked in one way or another.
Layla spent her last remaining money on some dried meat and hard bread, hoping both would at least last her the day. While chewing on the former, she ran her mind through her options. Robbery? Obviously justified, since she was going to use the money to avenge her beloved’s parents. Whoever she took from should have been honoured to give to this cause, even if they never knew.
‘I’d give it back,’ she told herself. That was the compromise her rediscovered bit of non-John morality offered. Obviously, good and evil was defined by what made John happy and safe. Everything after that was just extra effort she made because she was nice.
What was the alternative?
Begging could work, but she would probably get too much attention. She was cute, she knew how this worked. Big eyes and a pout and anyone with a Y-chromosome would be out to help her. Problem was that she just needed money and men were typically too interested in impressing her, right up until the point she revealed it was so she could chase a guy better than them. Their hearts were in the right place, so Layla didn’t fault them. They, too, should be honoured helping John though.
So, since begging was likely to get her more help than she needed, robbery it was! Now she only needed to-
Layla’s eyes snapped to a nearby wall. It was just a building of concrete and insulation, but behind it she saw a group of five auras that burned brightly. All had the faint sheen to them that she had come to identify with individuals that had exceeded their natural boundaries via the Training Hall. It was prismatic, but dominated by gold and purple, a colour combination that belonged to John.
“This is easily the worst part of the war. Why did the king send us this far up?” one of the soldiers groaned.
“We literally all volunteered,” another one of the small squadron responded. Abyssals were always comfortable talking about their magical ongoings in mundane space. Unlike outright proof of magic, conversations about it were easily rationalized away by the normal people that had no idea about the divide and the glory of her future husband that lay behind it.
The five people went around the corner. They were well but casually dressed, winter clothes protecting them as well as they could from the horrid cold of mid-winter Alaska. Four of them had that sheen to them, the fifth’s soul was alight with her own power. Straight, bright pink hair made her stand out twice over.
‘Chemilia,’ Layla thought. During her long and detailed study of John’s life, the general of the Little Maryland turned general of Fusion had come up often enough to remain in her memory.
“We have a really simple choice,” the general stated. “We find the assholes or we live with the potential that this happens again.”
“But do they have to live somewhere so cold?” The soldier’s groaning was met with the chuckles of his compatriots.
‘Gallow’s humour.’ Layla shook her head. Coping was fine, but getting mad was better! There was no time for laughing, everyone should have been filled to the brim with spite, aimed right at the Lorylim’s throat. Alas, most people were just not dedicated enough to maintain her level of raw emotion. They just did not love hard enough.
At least their efforts were directed at the right target.
The group passed Layla without a hint of awareness. To them, she was just another mundane, standing by a street corner. She had reflexively masked her soul that way.
Running into them randomly was more than a small stroke of luck. It told her two very important things. One was that Fusion was preparing to push northwards already. If Chemilia herself was leading a scouting force, then a more sizeable effort could not have been far behind. This meant that the end of this war was close.
It also meant that there was a camp around. John was too meticulous and concerned a person to send out his subjects without a proper supply hub to return to. Given that they had just left an Illusion Barrier…
Layla gave the souls of the soldiers behind her one more glance, then turned the corner. She entered the space just as she adjusted the shell of her soul to resemble that of a specific soldier.
She emerged in a changed version of the local town. It had been a collection of homes before, with a few markets and drinking establishments scattered in-between. Nothing much, she couldn’t imagine that ‘going out’ was a very popular activity this far north, but enough to run a community.
Part of those buildings had been flattened and replaced with a fortification of elemental make. Walls of stone towered up high, an inorganic barrier towards any that would have assailed the space.
There were four people by the entrance, two of which immediately raised their guns at her. “Stand still and await identification!” they shouted at her.
‘Dangit,’ Layla thought. She had skipped over the possibility of appearing right in line of sight. ‘I have gotten too used to stabbing things that don’t rely on their eyes.’ “I’m standing,” she answered, the back of her heel tapping the ground at a quick rhythm. They were wasting her time with this.
The other two people by the gate were inspecting the justified stalker. One wore a thick, flowing robe of ash grey, heavily ornamented with red and gold embroidery. Even if she hadn’t known Lorelei’s looks, Layla would have immediately identified one of the lesser seers of the Order of the Golden Rose. The other person was not a person at all, but a humanoid robot.
“Her aura is pure,” the seer spoke.
“Identified as a citizen of Fusion,” the robot agreed. “La-le-li-looooooooooo…” The voice of the machine turned lower, then disappeared entirely.
“…Battery must be frozen again,” one of the soldiers groaned. “Purpose of visit?”
“That’s classified,” Layla lied through her teeth. They wouldn’t understand and she could not have them give away how close she was to finding Izha. “I need equipment, give it to me or stop wasting my time!”
Her harsh tone had the duo turn their heads. After a wasteful second of contemplation, they obliged. “Alright, fine. Come inside.”
Layla stepped into the fortification. The moment she was past the checkpoint, she scanned everything with her aura sight. There were about a dozen people around, most of which were inside a singular room, no doubt coordinating things.
‘The Lorylim really screwed themselves – at least Gaia also knows to help me get revenge,’ Layla thought. The machine functioning long enough to identify her but not long enough to share her identity was a stroke of luck too convenient to be natural, as was the lax stance of the guards. This whole chain of events was a gift horse that she would ride to the final battle.
The storage of the fortification was unguarded. To the Abyssals, what was inside was just not worth enough to warrant additional guarding. Tents, marching equipment, backpacks, spare Baelementium equipment, everything that she needed in one convenient spot.
This was way better than robbery. It was quicker and she was taking things that belonged to John! She could hardly steal from John when she also belonged to him. All she was doing here was shifting some assets around.
Layla quickly staffed herself. Her goal was to be back to isolation as quickly as possible. Izha wasn’t omnipresent and, from what she gathered, he only read current thoughts. The quicker she stopped being in people’s line of sight, the quicker she minimized the chances to be discovered.
The only little risk she was willing to take was leaving a note on top of one of the supply crates. On it, she wrote the direction the people should be heading. Whoever found it would hopefully bring it up or follow it on a hunch. With the degrees of separation between her and them at that point, Izha would be none the wiser as to her involvement. Hopefully.
‘I am yearning for the moment I can stop thinking about his stupid mind reading involvement,’ Layla thought. ‘That’s just the sprinkles on my chocolate cake of murder.’
With a grin on her face, she left the Illusion Barrier and set out north-west.