Embrace Me, Then Kill Me - Chapter 2

Countless attempts, repeated agony. Death would draw near, only to retreat without fail, leaving her with an infinite life once more.

It was as if death itself were taunting her, tilting its head in a shimmering mirage before vanishing without a trace.

Tears scalded the corners of her eyes as the skin slowly knit itself back together. She loathed this body, this cycle of life. It was pitiful. To be reduced to a body that couldn’t even die, rotting away in loneliness. This was the fitting end for a butcher who had dared to cling so greedily to life.

Better to go somewhere no one can find me than to become the shadow of a living wraith. Lock myself away, seal my existence. If I let time pass in silence, perhaps rest will come someday.

So, she locked herself away.

An abandoned temple in the Kingdom of Eustania proved the perfect refuge. She descended the endless stairs leading deep underground, shut the stone door firmly, and wove a barrier of magic to seal the entrance. The last faint light faded, and darkness settled over everything. It was a silence so profound, as if all life had died.

She spent hundreds of nights yearning for the past, thousands of nights in torment, and tens of thousands in regret. In stark contrast to her pulsing heart, her soul was crushed and tattered like a worn-out rag, old and threadbare.

Eventually, she forgot how to count the days. Her emotions, her memories—all wore thin and faded like a stone statue in a ruined temple, or a soul atoning for its sins in purgatory. Thus, she forgot joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure.

She became a hollow shell, merely mimicking a human, petrified in that desolate place.

Thud.

It should have been as quiet as yesterday. This place, where nothing ever changed, was a void.

For the first time in who-knew-how-long, the concept of sound existed. Like a dragon awakening from a long slumber, she flexed her hand, opening and closing her fist in an unfamiliar motion.

Eyes long accustomed to the dark traced the lines of her palm. Her slender, long fingers were as pale as a wax doll’s. For a moment, she wondered if her hand had always looked like this, then noticed a faint light seeping in.

Following that light with her gaze, another thud reverberated. This one was longer, heavier. The air carried the vibration, borrowing the wind to deliver it.

Change had come.

Change? She shook her head. Impossible.

An anomaly in this timeless space where nothing flowed? And for someone to break the magic she herself had cast and reach this place?

Just as she thought that—

Crash! With a tremendous crack, the stonework collapsed.

The temple door had opened. No, it had been obliterated. Shattered fragments of the stone door tumbled across the floor, reaching up to her knees. As the dense dust settled, a torrent of light poured in.

She flinched, squinting against the piercing brightness.

Then, silhouetted against the light, a figure appeared.

“I finally found you.”

Her long-dormant hearing reacted with acute sensitivity.

A voice, profoundly low and resonant, thick like a beast revving up before a roar, seized her ears.

Looking up, she saw a rugged man.

He had hair like raging flames, blazing eyes, and a stature so tall he seemed to brush the ceiling.

With a massive greatsword resting lightly on his shoulder, he swaggered forward. Then, from a distance of two paces, he looked down at her with a decidedly arrogant expression.

“They say the Dancer of the Battlefield was beautiful… but seeing you now, you’re more than what I expected.”

The nameless man’s lips curved in a long, satisfied grin. Without warning, he leaned down and lifted her chin between his fingers.

Flash-

The light streaming through the shattered temple door illuminated her eyes directly. The hazel nestled within the green shone mysteriously. A color that seemed to emit a gentle light one moment, only to turn cold and detached the next.

Staring into her eyes for a long moment, the man muttered so softly it was almost inaudible.

“Hazelnut.”

Looking at her utterly ruined sanctuary, she thought, Who is he? Who could break through the seal I cast and destroy the only sanctuary I had left?

Are you truly an intruder? Or are you the savior who will release me from this wretched cycle?

As if answering her question, the man smiled. Then, with an intensity that seemed ready to swallow her whole, he declared:

“Good. I like you. You’ll become my bride.”

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[ Manastone.

No one knows when this mysterious ore containing mana first appeared. It is only speculated to have originated from the old magic kingdom, Eustania.

In the past, during an age of abundant magical power, it is said that humans in Eustania wielded magic directly. Records state they could conjure water and fire by incantation and wield forces close to miracles by manipulating nature.

At its pinnacle was the ‘Dancer of the Battlefield.’ The Dancer was a being akin to a legend in Eustania. She confronted a dragon with her immense power, and people praised her like a goddess.

But one day, she vanished without a trace. And in her stead, Manastones began to appear in the world.

Some believed it was a gift left behind by the Dancer of the Battlefield; others thought it was remnants of the dying magic she once embodied. Whatever the truth, one thing remains undisputed: so long as mana stones exist, she exists—here with us, now and forever.

Even at this very moment, as you read these words. ]

—Ullr’s Chronicles: The Advent of the Magic Kingdom 

As described in a book he had read long ago, the woman possessed a beauty as if a goddess had descended.

The man gazed down intently at her, who lay in a deep slumber as if she didn’t belong to this world. Her hair, falling past her waist, was a frail shade of brown as it would fade at any moment. And the eyes he had glimpsed before she collapsed were indeed the mysterious color he had guessed.

“Just as I thought.”

Everyone described her eyes as emerald green. He alone believed they were a subtle mix of green and brown. Ever since he first saw her in that dusty mural in a warehouse during his wretched childhood, he had sensed it.

His heart burned at the certainty that he had finally found her. Slowly, he brushed a hand across her pale cheek.

“Hurry and show me those eyes… Dancer of the Battlefield.”

╭══ ≪ •❈• ≫ ══╮

She opened her eyes to the sound of birds, and shadows danced in her vision.

It took her a while to realize they were the dense leaves of lush greenery. Blinking once, a dew-laden forest came into view. The tree root against her back was solid. The scent of rain-damp earth prickled her nose. The damp leaf caught between her fingertips gave off a grassy smell. It was all so vivid, so fresh, making the concept of the ‘outside world’ strike her anew.

Suddenly remembering those blazing red eyes, she pieced together the situation. The man who had invaded the temple amidst successive shocks had dragged her outside. Emerging from the dark cavern, the direct sunlight flashed before her eyes, blinding her, and she lost consciousness.

As she slowly sat up, a voice reached her.

“You’re awake, Miss Bride!”

“You are…”

A girl who looked to be in her late teens, who had been tending a fire, turned her head. Seeing the wavy, silvery platinum hair, large green eyes, and notably long, horizontally pointed ears, she realized the girl was not human.

“A nymph.”

“Wow! How did you know? Miss Bride is the first person to recognize Pomona at a glance!”

The girl’s eyes widened in wonder. Her cheerful voice echoed through the forest like a chime.

She pointed to the girl’s ears and answered simply, “It would be strange not to.”

“No, it’s not! Other people see Pomona’s ears, but still don’t know who Pomona is. They just say they look unusually long! But they look totally different to me! Hmm, maybe they’ve never seen a nymph before?”

The nymph chattered on. Something in the girl’s rambling struck her as odd.

“Are nymphs rare?”

At that, the girl’s eyes grew even wider than before.

“Are you really asking because you don’t know? Nymphs are… not even half, nor a quarter, nor an eighth as many as humans! We’ve had short lifespans since forever, so we don’t live long. The only reason Pomona has lived this long is all thanks to Lord Jin! The other nymphs who lived in my village would have died long ago, too, if Master hadn’t brought them to Astan!”

Before she had sealed herself away, nymphs were a common sight on the roads. They sometimes formed contracts with mages, becoming subordinates, and there were many villages inhabited solely by nymphs.

Short lifespans? Impossible. 

They were a race that lived long years alongside mages, sustained by their overflowing mana.