The Bloodbath Odyssey; I reincarnated to become the cursed

Walking towards the infirmary was Sarah with lackadaisical steps.

An agog and agitated expression kept her mood asunder.

She thought about the boy she had rescued, what was he doing out there all alone, and where the hell was he from?

She knew it was stupid to ask questions while on her way to get the answers, but she couldn't help but feel baffled.

Zolomon's words repeated themselves in her mind.

His questions, the way he stared at someone, at times, it was as if he saw through all their lies, to an extent that she nearly rephrased herself at an instant.

And now, going to see that boy brought back all those questions Zolomon asked, swirling in her mind.

"It can't just be a hunch. No, it can't,"

She said to herself, trying to push away that feeling that kept telling her Zolomon didn't act by mere luck.

He knows too much than he should. I mean, how does he do that? She gets the point that he is a White Elder, but damn, he's good at it.

His discretion, his being at the right place at the exact time, knowing and suspecting the uneasy and glean things, it all astounds her.

The only inklings she had were of things happening around her, and she hardly assimilated them.

Meanwhile, Zolomon's words kept ringing in her head:

...

"I know you might be wondering why I called you back, Sarah,"

Zolomon had asked.

"Yes sir," she answered after she sat down.

"I want you to tell me what happened in that woods, and Sarah, please do not lie to me," Zolomon requested, his voice very gentle and not meagre.

Sarah stared at him for a fleeting time, why he needed the information was a blank space to her.

She cleared her throat and narrated everything to Zolomon, not missing out any detail.

Zolomon didn't muddle, but neither did he look baffled or worried. His expression wasn't readable to Sarah, and she found that strange.

Zolomon's lips curled for a while, putting Sarah in deep consternation, as if he knew what she was thinking. But how could he?

"The boy you brought in here, do you know him?" He asked, but not inquisitively.

"No," Sarah replied as humbly as she could.

She needed not to flout in front of a White Elder, since being an Azren depended on humility as well.

"But did you notice anything about him, anything at all?" Sarah's mind now segued into thoughts.

She hadn't noticed anything, though she was almost petrified by the thing she had seen in those woods.

"No," she simply said.

Then came the question that nearly compromised her:

"Why did you and Lucy decide to help him then? You two had no idea who he was or what he was… then why?"

Sarah was dumbfounded.

The idea of that cricked her brain. That was a very credulous behaviour which they had displayed intuitively.

What if it was all a setup? A game that was set to trap them? Or worse? How would they have known?

Sarah sat deliberating on what to reply Zolomon, but she couldn't find something so soothing and reasonable enough.

"He, he was in danger and I... we decided to help," she found herself saying at last.

"Is that so?" Zolomon threw back.

Sarah nodded.

Zolomon looked at her coldly before he replied,

"Very well then. Off you go."

...

"...Sarah, anytime this year," a voice said in front of her.

Doors flung wide open as the owner of the voice looked at her in total askance.

She had thrown herself into a retrospective daytime dream and hadn't noticed that she had arrived at the infirmary and was now standing by the door.

Nurse Stacy, who had opened the door, had called her name a billion times, only for her to jerk awake at last, in total destitution.

"Oh my God, Stacy, I'm so sorry," she stuttered as she walked into the wing where Simma was.

Her steps squirmy as she flounced in a way before sitting on a chair a few inches away from where Simma sat.

Simma wasn't sure what to say to her.

Well, he wasn't so good at knowing what bothered people when he hadn't even figured out what bothered him.

But he could tell that either a guilty conscience was going on in Sarah's mind or that she was sick.

He cast another look at Sarah, her black long hair, her brown eyes, it looked familiar. He made to talk, but another sensation was there, a sensation that he might have felt before but rarely comes by, he felt shy.

She was beautiful, not a mere speculation, but a real constellation like no other. Her beady black long hair, her brown eyes, her curves, even her worried state was all perfect.

Simma, not in the least, knew anything or had seen anything that looked appealing since his childhood, it was as if life was just beginning for him.

Even his dreams, which he had had three times now, weren't so good, it was just a foot away from being called a nightmare.

Sarah breathed down and, replying to Stacy first, she said,

"I'm fine... I'll be j...just... you know… Anyway, how is he feeling?" she asked Stacy.

Simma couldn't just ignore the fact that he was there, and she had to ask Stacy about his well-being as if he couldn't speak for himself.

"I'm fine, miss??," he chirped in.

As Sarah turned to face him.

"oh, Sarah… just Sarah. No need for the 'miss.'"

"Right," Simma replied with a slight nod. At least he could do that now. His neck was in crick no more, and he was getting better.

"And you are?" Sarah asked back.

He hesitated for a while before he answered.

"I'm Simma."

Sarah and Nurse Stacy stared at each other at once as if planned, maybe because Stacy had told her he wasn't saying who he was, or that he had just said it.

But Sarah couldn't wait to release the question that had been hanging on her chest the whole while.

"What were you doing out there in the woods?"

At those words, Simma realized it was her who had helped him together with one other person.

"So it was you then in the woods?" Simma asked. It sounded rhetorical, but Sarah answered, though.

"Yes," she said flatly.

Simma bent his head, trying to find the right answer.

The question had triggered his memory lanes, but he jolted his head. The real fact here was that he wasn't sure if to tell them the whole truth, and wasn't sure if they already knew about the Haydes.

But if he told them that he was being trained like a slave in the Haydes, why wouldn't they suspect that he is a Singrith, or even worse?

He breathed. He had to make up something fast and smart, at least till he finds out that they can be trusted.

He needed not to be too intuitive right now.

"I... I uh... I was taken from where I was by that man just a couple nights ago and then... I clearly didn't know what he was or who he was. He had just kidnapped me and then…"

He paused and took a deep breath, buying himself time to think out more lies, but it was blank.

"Who am I kidding? I'm not so good at lies," he pondered.

But just then it struck him, he could really make up a lie from fragments of the truth. And that he did, since he continued,

"Not like he kidnapped me, he bought me from the Haydes as a slave. He heard I was a good one, a good fighter, and he bought me. But I pleaded with him to take me with my very close friend, and he did."

He cleared his throat and went ahead.

"I tried to escape, to get us out, and that was when he killed my sis... friend. And then I got mad. I wanted to fight him... and it turned out he was a Singrith."

It was all too much to take in. Sarah couldn't have imagined what being a slave had cost him, the pain, the exploits, and then the devastation.

She was getting very emotional, but she didn't want to break down or be seen as someone soft in front of Simma.

"That Singrith... do you know the reason why it didn't die after I drove my sword through it?" Sarah asked.

"The only time a Singrith dies is when it comes in contact with the sun or any violent ray. Apart from that, the only option is to separate its head or destroy the heart," Simma replied.

"Any more questions?" he asked.

Sarah was surprised at that question, but nevertheless she said, "No."

As Simma darted his eyes to both of them, his face was stern and mean as he said,

"Good, 'cause I'd like to ask mine… How do I get strong enough to exact revenge?"