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[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 113 – The Gathering
🕑 Added 2025-02-17 04:24:28 +0000 UTCThere were a lot of showers to choose from. Mel didn’t care much to avoid going into the other Magi’s rooms, especially since they hadn’t arrived yet.
As far as she considered it, it was their fault for not claiming dibs yet.
The only one she didn’t go into was Gwen’s, since she was already in there. Plus, it opened into an indoor forest paradise with various viking decorations.
She picked the first and nearest room, which naturally wasn’t hers. Mel would never have chosen a room so close to an exit and generally preferred multiple avenues of escape, which was why her room was near an exterior window.
Worst-case scenario, she could use [Condensate] after leaping out the broken window to slow her fall.
The moment Mel peeled off her clothes, she knew that Gwen hadn’t been joking. Apparently, the healers didn’t think it was necessary to deskunk her because she reeked.
How the hell didn’t I notice this before? It’s like a zombie ate a trash can full of used diapers, then was doused in gasoline and set ablaze by some sadistic zombie survivor.
Multiple times, Mel struggled not to hurl chunks all over the shiny gold veined marble flooring. Whoever this room belonged to, they had grown up rich. Or just preferred the finer things in life. Mel certainly hadn’t designed this one.
Despite the many places Mel had traveled to, she wasn’t used to such surroundings. Her upbringing wasn’t exactly stable.
Mel always traveled light, and she usually allied herself with the poor and downtrodden. This was all unfamiliar territory to her. Perhaps it was because of her shitty childhood that she always sought out other poors and tried to lift them up, or maybe she just felt comfortable in squalor.
One thing she did like about having money–or at least bumming off somebody else–was the hot, luxurious water. Two months of bathing in cold streams, always looking over her back to make sure some person or monster wasn’t about to kill her, was nerve-wracking.
And the bathroom situation? The less said about that, the better.
The number of Warren’s “elites” that Mel had killed when they squatted out in the woods was staggeringly high. They had instituted a buddy system for crying out loud.
Not that it saved them. That just gave Mel a two-for-one.
Things had only grown moderately more comfortable when she traveled with Gwen and Thomas. He had been able to use some ritual that rigged up a basic functioning shower, although that was still stretching the definition of the word.
Especially compared to this monstrosity carved into the wall. It could practically fit a foursome. You could even add a dwarf to the mix.
Even then, it wasn’t like they had every day to kick back, watch some TV, read a book, then take a shower. Most days, Thomas didn’t set anything up because they’d be moving camp shortly.
The tail end of the trial had been compressed into a third of its usual timeframe with no time to breathe or eat, let alone take a shower. Clearly, the stink of monster guts and her own sweat was compounded in the Hall of Martyrs.
Gwen’s stockpile of ingredients had grown increasingly thin, without enough time to devote to foraging and harvesting. Apparently, that last day’s feast had completely blown through her stockpile.
It took nearly an hour to scrub herself completely clean. Thankfully, the shower had some mondo strong anti-gunk enchantment because when she was done the place looked just as clean as when she first stepped in.
Mel looked at her clothes with disgust. She summoned her [Exile Twinblade] and picked them up with the tip to keep the stench as far away from her as possible.
For the slightest moment, she wondered how much she could sell her clothes for. Surely some lonely guy (or girl! Depravity knows no gender) out there would pay top dollar for something so…marinated.
Hush looked up at her from the sink that was filled to the brim with soapy water, having no idea what she was contemplating.
“Nah,” Mel said. She looked around until she found the object of her desires.
A normal washing machine would likely blow up from the concentrated filth, but the small square box set into the wall with a porthole for a door would be able to handle her dirty clothes just fine.
There was even a small instruction card for its use. The instructions were simple. Place dirty clothes inside, drop one of the many hanging ritual papers inside and thread a small amount of mana to start it up.
The ritual paper smelled like honey and lavender. It looked like rice paper to Mel. Red runes and sigils adorned the strip that crinkled in her hands as she tossed it inside and shut the door.
I love magic, Mel thought as the machine flashed several times. The drum filled with light. In less than a few seconds, the door opened to reveal warm and clean clothes.
It felt a little weird wearing armor around when there was no present danger. She had gotten used to doing it around Hal in Brightsong, but that was different.
She could only remember visiting a few cities with Hal, and none of them were like the Seabrim Crater.
With the other competitors able to attack her with impunity, Mel wasn’t about to drop her guard. She expected to see a lot of people taken out of the Convocation in the next few days as the normies bought into their new life and forgot about the danger the other competitors posed.
If I were one of those Grand Orders, my first point of business would be protection details, Mel thought to herself, slipping on her armor and braiding the left side of her hair.
She was just heading out of the bathroom, her freshly laundered witch hat perched just so on her blonde head, when Mel noticed somebody was sitting on the bed in the next room.
Charlie looked up at her through thick lashes with a slight smirk on her crimson painted lips. Black wavy hair tumbled past her shoulder, revealing multiple silvery loop piercings in her ear. Even during the Convocation, the striking woman had managed to present herself with style and cool confidence.
Mel knew for sure you couldn’t spend battle points on lipstick, eyeliner, and nail polish. And yet, every time she saw the woman, she looked fresh out of the salon.
“Hello, Mel. Did you enjoy my shower?” She leaned forward, seeming at home surrounded by such finery. This room basically had the interior of a mansion, with a lifelike rendering of a California sunset beach along the far wall.
Mel found herself uncharacteristically without a witty retort. She had been so surprised to see anybody, let alone her singular rival, Charlie.
“Power play!” Mel blurted. The words just came out before she could engage her brain. Her mind short-circuited whenever she saw this woman, and she suddenly forgot how to speak and act.
So she defaulted to being a bitch.
Mel stalked out of the room as fast as she could without actually running, as if she had planned to do that all along.
A smile blossomed on Charlie’s lips as she watched Mel go.
Mel stalked right up to Gwen, who was lounging on the couch, her mane of red hair contained in a cocoon of a towel. “You could have told me they were here!” she hissed. “Now I’m going to have to sleep with Charlie, so she doesn’t think I’m weird!”
Gwen looked up curiously, a partly eaten pastry halfway to her lips. She blinked, slowly catching up to what Mel said. “I mean, don’t you already? Besides, you went into your ex’s room. I figured you wanted to see her.”
Mel stared at her. “My what?”
Gwen stared back, then put down her pastry and got up. She glanced past Mel’s shoulder, then led Mel into her own room. “I said your ex. She just got here. Logan’s on the mend in his room.” She shut the door behind them.
“Yeah, I fucking got that! When were you going to tell me that we were dating?”
Gwen chewed her lip, trying to figure out how to answer her.
Mel pointed at her. “I swear to all the gods in all the universes if you somehow ‘forgot’ that my memory is on the fritz, I will hoof your front butt so hard.”
“No…It’s just, I figured you might remember her. And it seemed like maybe it wasn’t that good of an idea to get into during the trial.”
Mel threw up her arms. “Yes! Sure! I’d suddenly remember a girl I dated, but nothing else. Sounds like me, doesn’t it? Just blow past all the important stuff.”
“You remember Komachi and Sylvie,” Gwen pointed out.
“Nobody could ever forget Komachi,” Mel countered.
What she didn’t say was that there were more Komachis than STIs out there.
“And I didn’t think you could forget Charlie Asleton, your on again and off again ex.” Gwen loped over to a log cut into the shape of a couch. A lazy river meandered through the space, providing a gentle background noise. It mixed the smell of clean water with fresh air. “I’m sorry Mel, I…don’t know. I guess I made a mistake. If you want me to keep you from being alone with her, I can handle that.”
“Now, hold on. I didn’t say that.” The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was doing. Mel cleared her throat. “What I mean is, I’m not worried about it. But if you’re going to be my bestie, I need to know you’ve got my back.”
“I do, Mel,” Gwen said with a genuine smile.
“Then I forgive you,” Mel said magnanimously.
Gwen made an unconvinced, noncommittal noise in response. “She can be…persistent with you.”
“We’re battling for control of the Magi here,” Mel pointed out. “I don’t have time for pretty little princesses, okay? If we don’t get our shit together, somebody is going to take us out before we can cause a problem. You think the Covenants are going to just let what we did slide? And they’re the least of our problems after the beating we gave them.”
Mel honestly didn’t know about that last bit, but ever since that fight, she had an itching sensation between her shoulder blades as if she was being watched.
Gwen’s expression darkened. It was times like that when Gwen’s wolf-like nature showed through. “They are already after our lives. I plan on showing the [Vile Missive] to the Magi.”
“We need to rally together, or they’ll pick us off one by one. The Magi were already divided when I found you. I’m willing to bet they had a hand in that somehow.”
Mel reached over to a branch and snapped off a twig. She held it up to Gwen. “Alone, they’ll break us until there aren’t any Magi left to oppose them.” Mel snapped the twig.
She gathered up several more and flexed, but didn’t snap them. “Apes together, strong.”
Gwen’s deadpan face told Mel that she didn’t get the reference.
“Aw, c’mon. Nothing?”
“It’s a nice sentiment?” Gwen offered. “I get your point, Mel.”
But not the reference. There goes like half of my charm. All of my memes are useless!
Mel looked around for a table. She found one in a cross section of a massive tree stump that grew up from the floor. Mel began emptying out her inventory onto the table. “First thing first. I need you to get the Syndicate’s gift basket and then Heath. I need to check something out.”
Gwen looked curiously at her. “Like what?”
“When Heath’s here.”
Gwen didn’t press Mel further. She loped outside and returned quickly with Heath slung over her shoulder. She apparently didn’t bother to wait to ask him to come inside.
Gwen placed him on his feet by the table.
“Woah, what am I doing here?” He looked around. “Is this your bedroom? Did I just get invited into–”
“Mel wants to talk about something,” Gwen cut him off quickly with a sharp look.
Heath shut up and looked serious for once. “What’s going on?”
