When August told her they would be washing his dog, Samarie didn't know what to expect.
Sure, she had jumped at the chance to get love advice from a man who had proven success. However, what had the girl miffed was what exactly made this dog more special than others.
Of course, she was hard pressed to find any dogs in the Vatican's basement. But, she had read about them in her spare time. They were descended from wolves after being domesticated, bred for a variety of purposes, and generally were Man's best friend in all regards.
The textbook Samarie used emphasized their importance to maintaining a healthy mind due to their friendly nature with humans.
But as soon as they entered into the deepest part of the labyrinth beneath the city, Samarie felt like that descriptor was far from what was before her.
It was large enough to fill the corridors of the bunker she barged into. Its face bore countless eyes on its visage. And its body held many scars from battles long passed. It even had more than a few swords poking out of its thick mane, their handles still bearing the literal hands of those who used them.
"Careful now, she scares easy," The mustached man warned, the words coming out in the same tone one used when mentioning the weather. "But, I think I found where that pesky sword went…"
His tone went dark, the man's eyes focusing on a certain point on the dog's body.
Particularly, on a sword bearing an eye along its surface. The blade pulsating like it was alive, generating a thick… malicious miasma around both itself and the dog.
"Don't worry girl, this will only hurt for a bit," August cooed, arming himself with his bow. An arrow notched along its string. "In the meantime, Samarie I'll need you to either play distraction. Pluck the blades from its back, if you can. But, under no circumstance, should you hold any of them by the handle, you got that?"
His call came with another warning. Though, the girl didn't need to be told twice. Not when that thing was doing all the convincing she needed.
Who in their right mind would ever grip that cursed thing?
Although, perhaps she'd have to rectify that thought when her mind suddenly brought up images of those who tortured her.
Maybe some people would…
Nodding, the girl took a few steps forward. Samarie flourished her spear, widening her stance as she faced off against the mad beast.
'A family dog, he said. It would be easy, he said…' The girl was quickly doubting there was anything normal about August. But, he'd still press him on his promise. Lest she leave here empty handed.
Now, she had a dog to restrain-
Powerful legs pushed off the ground as the air crackled with force.
A beast that massive did not have the right to move that fast!
Her entire field of vision was filled by an endless abyss, outlined by a row of razor sharp teeth. What kind of dog was this thing?
Wait, the sword! It was doing something to the animal! Something unnatural, otherworldly!
Her bikaku kicked off the ground, throwing her out of the way!
Samarie let her thoughts drift, reaching out into the ether. The space between reality and the otherworldly presented itself before her.
In an instant, a chaotic whirlwind tried to swallow her mental pressence. An entity much older than the bloodsucker she had just hours earlier!
It shouted with the voice of a thousand souls, actively tearing through her mental barriers like they were paper.
Just what was this thing!? What did August get her into?
Retreating into her mortal body, Samarie's back bent at an unnatural angle. A claw sweeping past where her head had been.
Her legs lifted off the ground, as she took to a handstand, where she spun as though she were born to walk on her hands. Spinning just in the nick of time to avoid major injury.
"Samarie!" A trio of green arrows pelted the beast's hide, sticking out as it reared its ugly head towards August.
"Is he supposed to be this aggressive!?" The girl demanded, pushing off the ground to kick the distracted hound in the teeth. "I feel like you were holding out on me!"
Twisting her body in mid air, Samarie mounted the dog's back. However, she was just barely able to hold onto its back, as it tossed and turned for her to let go.
"Miasma!" The mustached man replied, sliding into the fray as he fired another volley. "The sword with the eye. You need to remove it! Moonless will calm down once she's free from its influence!"
Easier said than done, especially when this… Moonless wanted to get rid of her.
Right. Steady. One step at a time.
Samarie let out a deep breath, her body wobbly as she clung tight to the hound. Her Rinkaku stabbing into the poor thing to tether the girl down.
Using her Bikaku, she carefully slid along Moonless' body. Stubborn as a tick, she would not let go. Not until she was able to remove what ailed the dog.
However, as she inched closer, a voice entered her ears.
"I have what you seek, you know?" It whispered so closely to her ear, that Samarie swore she could feel its cold breath. "Power? Knowledge? The legion knows all. Has all."
The Miasma whispered to her, visions of its previous wielders all around her.
"Let go." They demanded, the voices calm, and yet certain. "Let go. Kill the remnant's of the Violent One's Bloodline."
Despite her barriers, Samarie felt herself slip. That one small tug found her falling to the floor.
Where Moonless took a step back, no longer snarling. As though the sword lessened its hold over the dog.
A black miasma seeped from its wounds, contaminating the air. And entering Samarie's body.
It made its way into her system, the girl's veins darkening.
The sword was clawing its way into her.
"We can help you, Samarie." They whispered, each voice layering over itself. The sound reverberating into her very soul. "Love is a simple wish. All we ask is for your body. Your submission."
Retreating into the confines of her mind, the girl was met with a horrific sight.
Over the representation of her body, fleshy tendrils wrapped around her figure. They writhed, prodded, played with her.
It made Samarie sick to her stomach. It wasn't enough for her body to be physically violated, but mentally as well?
Her blood boiled, her heart beating in her ears as she faced the sword's assault.
This horrid thing… what was it doing to her?
Heat burned in her chest. But it wasn't dread, far from it. It was the same emotions she felt when casting Grogoroth's spells.
What was this?
Was it the ability to cause great violence? To dominate her foes?
Samarie filed her thoughts, inevitably coming to a conclusion.
The sword was not allow to exist for a moment longer.
The moment she got her hands on it. No amount of temptation, or promises would save it from her wrath.
Anger, perhaps the emotion she was trying to label was righteous anger.
Samarie stalked towards her the tendrils, her gait steady despite the rage brimming underneath her skin.
Leaping off an invisible platform, her body shot towards the corrupted miasma. Enhanced by the binding vow, her strength rose by several notches, giving the entity no time to react as she tore into it.
But, once she was able to to get a firm grip on the things, she realized something was off about these things.
Each tendril was made of individual segments, each consisting of interlocking arms that formed to create a greater mass.
Legion, Samarie remembered the sword saying. A collective of souls that the sword damned. Each a victim of the wielders that came before.
And it wanted to make her its next host.
However, Samarie just about had it with people deciding what was good for her or not.
Stripping the tendrils off her body, Samarie ripped them apart. Literally breaking down their influence over her.
Although, something still irked the girl. How exactly did they infiltrate her mind if they were defeated this easel-
Her words were quickly answered. When a tide of arms pounded at the walls of her mind, surrounding her from all sides. "The legion consumes. The legion claims yet another fool."
The words echoed all around her. The space between her and the malevolent entity shrinking with each second that passed.
The words… Each one seemed to strike like a physical blow. But maybe that was why she was affected in the first place.
Hearing the possibility that this thing could help her understand the heart better… It was too tempting.
And in that one moment of weakness, Samarie saw why she had fallen. Too eager, greedy. Her impulse to make things right…
But Samarie also knew that was wrong. Just as she hated when others forced something down onto her, the girl also felt as though it was wrong of her to put any of this on others.
Even if it would have helped her get her shot with Marina… In the end, she would have forced what she wanted onto someone else.
On top of that, she wasn't even sure if it was the right advice.
"You're right, you can give me everything I want," Samarie's voice was a whisper in the wind. "But I doubt anything I own won't be yours as well, right?"
Without another word, the hands' aggressiveness intensified two-fold. Each tendril clammering to get into her mind, to consume her until nothing was left but an empty husk.
But she refused to be anyone's puppet.
Normally, destroying the sword would have been a simple matter. When she could have struck it down with a simple hollow purple, it would have already been annihilated. Along with Moonless and everything else behind it.
However, because of her binding vow, she could do nothing else but use her hands.
As though it had been ignored, Samarie suddenly found herself stirring from her mindscape. Her body sat up, groggy, and in a lot of pain. But, that wasn't her biggest concern.
Why had she been brought out of her trance?
Looking around her, she saw August battling out with the beast. He employed hit and run tactics to make sure Moonless wouldn't have a moment to recover, lest the dog bled more or made the wound bigger.
But it wasn't exactly that. She knew it was something else. Her instincts were telling her of something.
Her hands inevitably found themselves gripping her dropped spear. The weapon calling to her heart, speaking words deeper than anything verbal could have conveyed.
The siren's song brought Samarie more comfort than she would have admitted. But at the same time, it spoke true to August's earlier words.
A weapon spoke to its master.
And this spear…
It was telling her to kill that sword.
And who was she to deny what it wanted?
Looking towards Moonless, Samarie aimed her sights towards the hound's back.
She would need a great amount of accuracy to not hit the beast. However, the spear listened to her intent. Whispering assurances into her thoughts.
All the girl needed to do was strike, and her blows would ring true.
For it was in the echoes and remnants of its previous user's will, that its true power lurked.
Steeped in the practice of the Sergals, the spear had adapted the art's most lethal trait.
The sure-hit effect that guaranteed her aim would never fail her.
Though, Samarie also felt it was a fleeting thing.
As the longer she used Gae Bolg, the more her will would taint the spear's. Overwriting what the Sergal spent years, perhaps decades, embedding into the weapon.
Just this once, she'd embody the Sergal she'd stolen this spear from.
Just this once, Mataneko. I'll use every last drop!
Otherworldly energy coalesed over the spear, a visible crimson glow radiating menacingly off it.
And with much effort, Samarie hurled the spear. The weapon cleaving a path through the air.
To the spear, there were only two things that it knew.
It would soar, striking the sword known as Miasma, and dousing it in a curse even more wretched than the blade could ever produce. And it would do so no matter the barrier between them.
Miasma, sitting on Moonless' back, witnessed the spear's flight, knowing its trajectory was surely to meet it. It commanded the glassy eye hound to move out of the way before it could be struck. Even taking the blow for it in the worst case scenario.
It would find a different host. Someone that was more mallaeable. A sulfur cultist, perhaps. One it could twist in its grip.
In an instant, the hound disengaged with the clashing August, the sword calling forth a thick Miasma to block sight lines.
However, even in the haze, the spear still tracked their position, following their trail at every step.
Even when Moonless ran like a bat out of hell to escape its pursuit, it was still behind them. And it would always be behind them.
There was no escaping the Gae Bolg.
No amount of speed or agility would leave them scot free.
And so Moonless faced it head on, backflipping off a way to get the jump on the spear.
Moonless raised her mighty paw, as the spear shot back towards the hound.
With a final burst of effort, Moonless dashed into the fray, colliding with the spear head on.
Only, when the spear was bound to hit the dog's paw, there was no amount of force that could stop it.
An unstoppable spear, and Moonless was not an immovable object.
The beast's paw was maimed beyond belief. However, it was not the intended target, so its injuries were lesser than that of Gae Bolg's true victim.
There was no bargaining with it. No amount of smoke could allude to its aim.
From the moment it was thrown, a conclusion had already been made.
The spear pierced the eye, erupting into a million pieces, as the spear suddenly sprouted thorns from its tip.
When all was said and done, the spear returned to Samarie's grip, exhausted of the otherworldly energy it had steeped in.
'You did good, Gae Bolg. You can rest now.' She sent her thoughts into the spear.
The battle was over, and the tension between her shoulders uncoiled.
"Moonless!" August yelled, running towards the wounded hound. "Are you okay there, girl!"
The dog's pained whimpers ached at the man's heart. Alas, he could do little but aid in her recovery.
"Samarie, quickly!" He urgently called, "Grab my bags, I need to make sure both of you are okay!"
The girl was stunned for a moment, seeing the scene before her.
This was a dog, and yet, the sight before her… Was the purest exchange of love she had seen in her entire life.
Love was not only about the wild passionate emotions, but also about the softer care that people exchanged… Or perhaps it wasn't just people.
As in this case, Samarie doubted that August loved Moonless in a romantic sense. But more in the way that was described in her text books.
Dogs were a man's best friend.
And she was seeing it first hand.
Shaking from her reverie, she replied. "On it, Sir August!"
But just as Samarie reached for the bag in question, her blessing decided it was time for her to receive another gift.