Re: From Elf Mage to Overlord Slayer-Chapter 31: Weirdo

Chapter 31: Weirdo
The stupid fight with Gandalf really messed things up.
Not in a "now I’m popular" kind of way.
More like a "now everyone thinks I’m a total weirdo" kind of way.
Before, I was just some Rank 3 loser who got lucky.
You know, the clumsy idiot who tripped his way into a couple of wins.
Now, I was the Rank 3 loser who somehow fought the legendary Captain Reynolds to a standstill.
The clumsy idiot who stared down a walking bonfire of grief and didn’t even blink.
It’s not like they respected me.
They just couldn’t figure me out.
The looks I got in the hallways weren’t just your standard "ew, look at the loser" sneers anymore.
Now they had a nice little sprinkle of "what the hell is wrong with that guy" suspicion.
So much for my brilliant plan of being a harmless scrub.
My Aura of Fear skill didn’t help things.
It had definitely leveled up since that fight with Kazuki.
It wasn’t just a vague "uh oh" feeling anymore.
Now it was a cold, sharp thing that clung to me like I’d rolled in something dead.
It made people’s skin crawl.
It made them want to be literally anywhere else.
Which was awesome, actually.
In the mess hall, I had a whole table to myself.
No one dared sit within a ten-foot radius.
They’d grab their trays of gross gray protein paste, look at my corner, and then run to the other side of the room like their hair was on fire.
It was my own personal bubble of social repellant.
Perfect.
Fewer distractions.
More time to think.
More time to plan.
My days fell into a super simple, super brutal rhythm.
Wake up.
Train.
Eat.
Study in the archives.
Train some more.
Sleep.
It was a grind.
The most important grind of my entire life.
I was sitting in my usual spot, shoveling down the tasteless goo, when someone popped my bubble.
Someone was standing right next to my table.
I didn’t even have to look up.
The auras of the other Slayers were all different, kind of like signatures.
Seraphina’s was sharp and cold, like a perfectly polished knife.
Gandalf’s was a raging bonfire.
This one was... different.
It was faint.
Flickering.
Like a candle that was about to go out.
It felt... broken.
I looked up.
It was an elf girl, probably my age.
She was clutching her tray like it was a shield, and her knuckles were white.
Her black training uniform was way too big for her skinny frame.
Her eyes were big and gray and full of a kind of nervous terror.
I knew who she was from the rankings.
Elara.
Rank 2.
One of the only people here who everyone thought was even more pathetic than me.
She was one of those "misfires" the guards were always talking about.
A soul that had already cracked under all the pressure.
She just stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"Is... is this seat taken?" she whispered.
Her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her.
The whole mess hall went dead silent.
Everyone was staring.
A Rank 2 was actually talking to the Rank 3 weirdo.
This was clearly the most exciting thing to happen all week.
My first thought was to tell her to get lost.
She was a distraction.
A liability.
But then I looked at her again.
My Aura of Fear was just pouring off me, this cold pressure that usually made people want to throw up.
She was feeling it.
I could see her trembling.
But she wasn’t backing away.
She was actually leaning into it, like someone huddling next to a block of ice because it was better than being in total darkness.
She wasn’t scared of my emptiness.
She recognized it.
The little Slayer protocol voice in my head was totally silent.
This wasn’t a threat.
This wasn’t an obstacle.
It was just... data.
"No," I said, my voice totally flat.
She let out this little sigh of relief and pretty much collapsed onto the bench across from me.
She kept her head down, staring at her food like it held the secrets to the universe.
She didn’t eat.
She just pushed the gray paste around with her fork.
We sat there in a bubble of super awkward silence for a full five minutes.
Finally, she spoke again, her voice still a whisper.
"You’re not afraid of it, are you?"
I didn’t have to ask what "it" was.
The training.
The memories.
The ghosts they made us fight in that stupid Echo Chamber.
"Fear is a waste of energy," I said.
It was the truth.
The cold, hard truth of my new programming.
She finally looked up, and her gray eyes were filled with this desperate, pleading look.
"How?" she asked. "How do you do it?"
"They make me see him," she whispered, her voice cracking. "My brother. He... he fell during the attack on the capital. I was right there. I couldn’t... I couldn’t do anything."
Her story was just another sad data point on a long list of tragedies.
But it was one I knew.
"You don’t fight the memory," I said, the words just coming out automatically, a piece of the code I’d written for myself in the Echo Chamber.
"You analyze it."
"You learn its patterns."
"You treat it like a boss mechanic."
"You turn the pain into a tool."
She stared at me, her eyes wide.
She didn’t get the words, but she got the feeling behind them.
The cold, detached logic.
She wasn’t looking at me like a person.
She was looking at me like I was an instruction manual.
A guide on how to survive being broken.
Before she could say anything else, a new presence crashed my party.
This one was not quiet.
It was loud.
Primal.
Like a predator that had just smelled blood.
A huge hand slammed down on the table between us, making our trays rattle.
"Well, well," a voice purred. "Look what we have here."
"The little broken birds, flocking together."
I looked up.
It was a woman, but "woman" felt like the wrong word.
She was a force of nature.
Tall, with wild, red hair braided with what looked like little animal bones.
Her black training uniform was stretched tight over a body that was all lean, hard muscle.
Her eyes were this startling, fierce green, and they were locked on me with a hungry, predatory glare.
Kaelen.
Rank 7.
The psycho of the top ten.
The one everyone else was a little bit scared of.
Elara let out a little squeak and tried to shrink into the bench to become invisible.
Kaelen didn’t even look at her.
Her grin got wider, showing teeth that were a little too sharp.
"I saw your fight in the Crucible, Rank 3," she said, her voice a low, husky growl.
"That little dance you do."
"The lucky slips."
"The accidental knockouts."
She leaned down, her face just inches from mine.
She smelled like pine trees, sweat, and something wild.
"That’s a load of crap," she whispered.
My face stayed a total blank.
I didn’t react.
"There’s something in there," she went on, tapping my forehead with a long, calloused finger.
"A monster."
"I can feel it."
"It’s hiding behind those dead, silver eyes."
Her grin turned into a feral snarl.
"I want to fight it."
"I want to see what happens when I kick your little cage until it breaks."
Okay, this was a different kind of challenge.
Seraphina tested my rank.
Gandalf tested my past.
Kaelen... she wanted to test the apocalypse I was trying to keep on a leash.
"Not interested," I said, my voice cold.
Her eyes flashed.
"Oh, you will be," she purred.
She stood up straight and looked down at me.
"Next Crucible session," she said. "I’m calling you out."
"Let’s see if your luck holds up against me."
With that, she turned and strode away, leaving a trail of nervous silence behind her.
Elara looked like she was about to have a heart attack.
"She’s insane," she whispered.
I just went back to eating my food.
Kaelen was a problem.
A dangerous, unpredictable variable.
But she was just another part of the training.
Another test of control.
Later that day, on my way back from the archives, I got cornered.
This time, it was the queen bee herself.
Seraphina.
She was standing in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed, with two of her high-level cronies.
She was blocking my path.
Her beautiful face was a mask of cold, stuck-up frustration.
"Quinn," she said, and my name sounded like an insult coming from her.
I just stopped and waited.
"I have been observing you," she said, her sapphire eyes narrowed.
"Your performance in the Labyrinth was pathetic."
"Your match in the Crucible was a fluke."
"Your rank is an embarrassment."
"And yet..."
She took a step forward, her expression twisting into a confused scowl.
"You fought the Captain to a draw."
"Kaelen, the beast of the Corps, is actively trying to provoke you."
"And the broken little Rank 2 follows you around like a lost puppy."
She tilted her head, like she was looking at a math problem that didn’t add up.
"None of it makes sense."
"You do not fit the data."
"So, I will ask you one time, and one time only."
Her voice dropped to a low, demanding whisper.
"What is your secret?"
I just looked at her.
The arrogant noble.
The top of the food chain.
She couldn’t stand that a piece of trash like me was a puzzle she couldn’t solve.
My secret?
My secret was a girl with amethyst eyes and a final, sarcastic smile.
My secret was the sound of a bone snapping.
My secret was a rage that could literally unmake the world.
And there was no way in hell I was ever going to share it with her.
I gave her the only answer I had.
Silence.
I just stepped to the side, walked around her little blockade, and kept going down the hall to my cell.
I could feel her eyes burning into my back.
I heard one of her lackeys whisper, "The arrogance of that low-ranker!"
But Seraphina didn’t say anything.
I had denied her an answer.
And in a place where knowledge and power were everything, that was the biggest insult of all.
I had a rival who wanted to expose me.
A broken follower who saw me as her only hope.
And a predator who wanted to unleash the monster inside me.
My quiet life was officially over.