Death found Sekoi to be the shittiest of shitholes that he had ever seen. In his own words, he would rather crawl up the asshole of a dragon and drown in scorching diarrhoea than live in any of the flimsy stone and wood huts around him.

  Snow laughed at his words, but he wasn’t joking. He considered killing himself the second the aroma of fresh pies followed by cum and piss hit the back of his nostrils and burned his throat like he’d gulped down several cups of acid.

  “It’s not that bad,” Snow squeaked. “After a while you just kind of forget the smell is even there, really makes you appreciate flowers when you walk by them.”

  “I am a conqueror; I do not sniff flowers; I will bear this horrid stench to strengthen my resistance to it.” He deeply inhaled through his nostrils a dozen times, hawking louder with each passing.

  “You’re going to vomit if you keep doing that.”

  “I do not vomit; I command it to stay inside my body, and it listens to me because I completely—”

  A potent scent of cow-dung hit his throat and made him spew up in his closed mouth. He swallowed it down, shuddering, wincing, smacking his lips together, enduring the taste of bile and rot.”

  “Could’ve just spat it out, no one would judge you.”

  “I… do not… spit out… this place is clearly crafted by the other gods as a punishment for this sinful nation.”

  He dismounted Esroh and was bombarded with dozens of kids begging him for food and coin. He gave four of them a smack and made them flee, then got judging stares from the other adults.

  “Discipline your brats!” he shouted. “Or the next time I’ll stick a knife in their throats.”

  Their judging turned to nods of approval.

  Death was confused. Snow got on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear. “Those kids are not anyone’s property, orphans, they’re mad you didn’t strike those little shits harder. The standard is to break their bones, make them cry, anything to deter them from doing it again… pretty cool, huh?”

  “Perhaps this town is not so bad. Are you just going to leave your horse untied and unguarded?”

  “Esroh is a good girl.”

  That once again doesn’t answer a thing, he thought. “And what if the horse gets stolen?”

  “Stealing Esroh?” she said with a laugh. “I love my horse, but she’s nothing special. If some little rat tries to steal her then clearly they need her service more than I do. Esroh doesn’t move carts, won’t travel if she’s tired, or hungry, can’t run very fast.”

  “She’s not powerful, takes after you.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I was not joking,” he said flatly. “You are the weakest woman I have ever laid eyes upon.”

  “I thought I commanded you to be nice to me?”

  “That is me being nice.”

  A woman walked by with the biggest breasts Death had ever seen, bare on display for all to see, tiny brown nipples on the large weights that were triple the size of Death’s head.

  “Why are you looking at her breasts and not mine?” Snow shouted, pushing them together to make her cleavage bigger. “Look at mine! You said you wanted to see mine!”

  “The gap between that woman’s teats reminds me of a large canyon I once visited at one of the northern nations. I am not staring at them for pleasure, Snow, I am simply astonished by how strong that woman’s spine must be. In fact, wait here, I am going to go and beat her to death so that I may steal that strength for myself.”

  She stared at him sternly and shushed him.

  “You stop me from killing?” he said, turning up his nose. “Let go of my arm, Snow. If you have a problem with me murdering innocents for my own progression, best you close your eyes.”

  “Too loud,” she whispered. “Look. People are watching.” She faked a loud laugh and punched his elbow. “You can’t be joking around about that, someone will take you seriously and arrest you, hang you for a jest.”

  She grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head down. “Just to be clear, Death, you are mine,” she hissed. “You looked at another woman’s tits. Do that again and I’ll murder that fat whale myself, get us both hung. You look at mine, mine only, unless it’s vital to your survival. That’s a command.”

  She’s very strange, Death thought. I can use her adoration to get what I want… just because I am a puppet bound by this curse doesn’t mean I can’t pull the strings of my own act. As long as she stays alive, perhaps I can become strong enough to finally find a way to break this wishing loophole she has forced me into.

  He pinched her chin and made her blush. “Fine then,” he said with feigned charm. “You’re the boss, Snow. However, between us, I do need to kill somebody preferably soon…”

  “Yeah, I can help,” she gulped.

  Perfect, Death thought. I have myself a companion, in time I shall test how dedicated she is to follow through.

  She guided death to a shoddy tavern flowing with drunken songs and the silhouettes of half-naked harlots walking pass the windows.

  Snow bounced on her feet, rubbing her hands together.

  “What are you doing?” Death asked.

  She stretched her arms.

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “Now, go in now.”

  Death was pushed forward through the swinging doors with a large shove. He collided with a bald man holding a plate of drinks.

  The glasses smashed all over the floor, and Death was drenched in beer from a rogue tankard that decided to smack him in the eye.

  The angry man scolded Death for his clumsiness, but went quiet when Snow squeezed through and apologised, cleaning the drips of alcohol off the man’s coat and begging forgiveness.

  “Bloody fool,” Death spat. “She’s the one who shoved me into here, direct your anger at her.”

  “Oh… I could never be angry at such a beautiful young woman, just be careful who you shove next time, alright miss?”

  She nodded and bounced away to a table.

  Death glared at the man and considered killing him. The guests were staring, he didn’t feel powerful enough to slaughter a whole tavern yet. He poked the man in his chubby boob and leaned in.

  “You are lucky,” he hissed. “You are lucky to have your tongue still attached to your throat, you swine, how dare you accuse me of being such an imbecile. Apologise to me.”

  “Excuse me?” the man said. “We’re both at fault. Where’s your apology to me lad? Don’t go thinkin’ being taller than me means a damned thing, I’ll sock you in your face.”

  “You drenched my garments in filth.”

  “Garments? Feller, your dusty pieces of cloth are probably a bit cleaner now. That wool around your shoulders and chest has gone black… must’ve dug up a corpse and just put on the outfit.”

  “Almost correct,” he snarled. “Prepare to—”

  “Death!” Snow yelled. “I command you to apologise and come to this table over here!”

  Death’s face twitched. “You are lucky a second time,” he said calmly. “I apologise for my rashness. Have a good day.”

  “That’s far better,” the man said humbly. “I apologise too, and I hope your evening goes fine and dandy.”

  These manners make me want to slice open my own throat. My legs are moving me over to the table against my wishes.

  The table she chose was large, a copper rim with a candle in the middle, snugly built into the wall with a blue-cushioned couch around half of it.

  She leaned on her arm and pursed her lips like a smug cat, then pointed next to her.

  Death sat as far away as she could. She shuffled around to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “This is a romantic place for a couple of lovers to share a first kiss, don’t you think?”

  He scowled at the happy dancers around the tavern.

  “The joyfulness of this place makes me feel ill.” His stomach rumbled. “See? Each of my organs are growling at me to escape.”

  “I think you’re just hungry.” She held his right hand and placed it atop her breasts. She took one of the fingers and poked it between them. He felt something cold, then plucked out two coins. “I’m good with my hands too,” she whispered. “You think I’d throw you into such a situation without a plan? No… it worked exactly as I wished, seeing you want to kill that man made me so… so… wanting.”

  Her hand rubbed Death’s leg, squeezing his groin and biting her lip. She put his hand between her own legs and pressed two of his fingers against the soaking cloth.

  “See what you did to me?” she purred. “I don’t care if you wear muddy clothes… I can’t wait to fuck you, to feel you deep inside of me, seeing you drenched in sweat and filling me with your warm heirs… I want your heirs all over me, dripping off my body when you’re done with me.”

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  This lust is beginning to get ridiculous, he thought. He didn’t react to any of it, his lips remaining flat, blinking slowly. She was so horny for him that she was shaking like she was naked in a blizzard.

  A stern ginger woman interrupted Snow’s blatant attempt to touch herself while Death watched.

  She was outrageously chunky and short, a verrucose blemished face, pus leaking from popped pimples, two fat slugs arched into lips like she’d been stung by a billion wasps.

  “What do you want, lady with the face of a fish?” Death asked in a blunt tone. “Can you not see that I am busy trying to understand why my companion here is inexplicably aroused?”

  “Fuckin’ ‘scuse me? What did you say to me?”

  “Apologies, fish lady, didn’t mean to offend.”

  I did. I did mean to offend. Fuck this woman, I want her to die violently at my own hands.

  “If yer not gonna buy somethin’ to eat or drink I’m gonna grab you by the ear and boot you out my bar,” the woman said.

  Death gave her the two coins. He didn’t know how valuable they were. “I’ll have anything with pork and a glass of anything that comes with a slice of lemon. Nothing like beer, my thirst can only be quenched by some nice fruity spoils.”

  The woman crossed her flabby arms. “We have fish and a bucket of oranges, take it or leave it.”

  “Fish?” he snickered. “How suitable.”

  Her meaty hand struck him like a mace. He wanted to swear and kill the woman; however, he forced his lips shut.

  If I play my cards right I could kill this whole tavern, he thought.

  He apologised and called the ogre beautiful. Snow giggled and ordered the same. They got a tiny silver coin in return.

  “If I had my full power I would rip her in half with my bare hands and scatter her body into millions of fleshy pebbles with the snap of my finger,” he whispered.

  “No killing for now. We can find a soul to claim together! Just not here, we’ll be thrown in a cell and hung.”

  “No cell can hold me.”

  “You know, call me a doubter, but I don’t think that’s true.”

  The ogre placed a steaming yellow fish on a wooden platter, served with a whole cucumber, two flayed tomatoes, and a single pea.

  Death tore out the bulbous eye and popped it like a grape between the roof of his mouth and his tongue, then ravaged the fish carcass with his fingers, devouring it in ten seconds.

  Snow hadn’t even began eating. She was holding the cucumber, blushing and staring at Death’s bulge. She wrapped her lips around the vegetable. Death stole it from her and chucked it deep into the dancing crowd. He heard the yelp of a woman and the sudden start of a scuffle from his actions.

  “Rude,” Snow huffed. “I was going to eat that.”

  “No you weren’t.”

  She devoured the fish even faster than Death. He was impressed, a feat not so easily achieved. She gave a hiccup, then fed him a slice of orange from the bucket just brought, which he reluctantly ate.

  I’m being hand-fed. Me, the conqueror of nations, is being fed an orange. Embarrassing.

  “I love the redness of your eyes,” she whispered. “Like staring at two blood moons…our children shall have one icy and one crimson, like frost and flame. Your nails, do you paint them black?”

  “I do not paint my nails. My nails are black from the centuries of bruising from slaying my enemies.”

  “How amazing,” she said in awe. “Mine are black because of the mud. We should get you some armour to wear.”

  “I do not wear armour. I wear the robes of my own crafting, sewn from the flesh and hearts of my enemies.”

  “Mmmm,” she moaned. “I can’t wait to see you in it.”

  “It is a marvellous piece,” he boasted.

  “How do your powers work?” she asked curiously. “The tales I read never explained them well.”

  “Anyone I kill, their physical power and abilities become mine, sometimes I get a glimpse of their memories in rare circumstances.”

  “Were you born with your powers?”

  “Is this an interrogation?”

  “Yes,” she giggled. “I want to know every detail about my future husband.”

  I want to contest that, but my voice won’t allow it. Damn these commands, she’ll think I’m complacent with the term.

  “Born with two,” he said instead. “Draining, gifting. I can gift powers. My mother wanted me to be a hero, I can see that memory clear through the fogginess.”

  “Do you have any other memories of this scarred man.”

  Death thought hard. He didn’t have a single one more. “I have a feeling it was personal,” he admitted. “It doesn’t matter. My efforts meant nothing, this world has been refilled with magical imbeciles boasting birthrights from the Original Gifter.

  Snow had no idea who that was and commanded him to explain.

  The world used to be without magic, without demons, no Hell, no Heaven, no anything. When the Original Gifter was born, it all changed in a heartbeat—Heaven sprung to life, angels singing in choirs in the clouds—Hell clawed upward, splitting the ground, spewing out monsters and devils. She could grant wishes without limits, giving powers of great importance to all who asked, creating the foundation for all magic used in the present day.

  He had a memory from his mother where she told him she believed he was the Gifter’s successor, given her powers in a similar yet unique manner.

  “Was she killed?” Snow asked.

  “No,” Death said. “She wasn’t like me. She was a mortal. Her final gift to the world was allowing her powers to be gained through inheritance and the luck of birth, her final gift.”

  “I think that’s a beautiful tale.”

  Of course she would, Death thought. A tale so simple would obviously impress the dull minds of mortals.

  Death’s ears snapped to a conversation at a nearby table. He stared at a scruffy man drunk on ale, yammering eternally about his swordsmanship, but occasionally dropping how he was more powerful than the scarred man.

  “That man over there has information I need,” Death said.

  “I heard it, made my tummy feel funny. I don’t think it’ll be that easy to find him… I’ve never heard of a legendary scarred man.”

  “Seduce him and lure him into that room, the one in the corner with black curtains.”

  “Those are the rooms where the guests go to… fuck… I can’t take him in there or he will take what is yours.”

  “I will keep you safe,” he said. “Your command compels me to. All of you belongs to me, but you will use your hands to entice him into that room. Did you lie when you said you would do this?”

  “I belong to you,” she purred. “All my innocence is yours; I shall lead him to that room… just don’t kill him, I command that, he can scream, no one will question screams, but people in Sekoi can smell blood like hounds.”

  “Do your duty, Snow,” he said impatiently. “Do it fast.”

  She joined his dancing and brushed herself against him teasingly. After several twirls of grazing her ass against him, she gained his undivided attention.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty one,” he said in a squeaky voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  She put a finger under his chin and leaned down to his ear. “I heard you’re good with a sword,” she whispered. “I bet you’re so good with this sword too.” She squeezed his hard cock through the leather and then twirled a finger around his drawstring. “What do you say we go to a place a little more… private… get you out of this leather.”

  He traced his finger across her pink lips. “I like it when pretty girls use their mouths,” he said. “You have the mouth for it, reckon you can sheathe my sword down that pretty throat of yours.”

  Her eyes held disgust for a second, then narrowed with a moan. “Come and find out,” she teased. “Let’s get you comfy in the room with black curtains.”

  They entered the dedicating fucking room.

  There was a bed laden with dried white stains on the thin silk sheet. He lit the candles excitedly and threw himself on the bed like a starfish. “Come on, baby,” he grunted. “Get on your knees for me and show me what a good girl you are.”

  Snow felt awkward. She wanted to peek behind the curtains to see where Death was. The man was getting agitated, undoing his own drawstring in impatience and exposing his dick, which was more dagger than sword.

  “The fuck are you waiting for?” he shouted. “You asked me in here, you damn little tease, you’re gonna suck my cock and do it good.”

  He stood angrily. Snow froze still and trusted Death’s promise. Before he got to her, the curtains flung open and Death broke the man’s nose with a single punch. He staggered back onto the bed, coughing blood. Death mounted him and beat his face to a bruise.

  “Death!” Snow yelled. “You have to ask him questions!”

  Right, questions… I almost lost myself in my instincts.

  Snow crossed her legs and went red from the violence.

  “This arouses you?” asked Death.

  “You do,” she squeaked. “Everything you do makes me feel butterflies in my stomach.”

  “Help me,” the man wheezed. “Gods, fuck, help me please.”

  Death punched the man again. “The only god who hears your words is me, you powerless slug, no help comes for the poor.”

  A dagger found the begging man’s hand; Death seized his wrist and stretched his arm up. “A tiny blade. You fool, were you thinking this would rescue you from this? Give me that, look at this, Snow, rusty from pommel to point, I know of a place this would fit nicely.”

  He slammed the knife into his kneecap and squeezed the scream shut with his other hand. He twisted it, his soul happy at the torment of muffled pleas. Snow was breathing heavily, enjoying the smile on Death’s face, dreaming of his kisses.

  “The scarred man,” Death snarled. “Where is he? What do you know about him?” He removed his hand from his gob and grabbed his ear. “Scream and I will carve out your liver and feed it to you.”

  “Wh—who?”

  Death ripped the knife out and stabbed the other kneecap. The man swung his head back, mouth wide open, neck muscles tensing in efforts not to scream. Death repeated his question.

  “Fool’s Lake!” he yelled. “He’s at Fool’s Lake!”

  Death smacked him and shushed him. He turned to Snow. “Is that in Sekoi?”

  Snow nodded her head. “I think he has more to tell,” she said deviously. “Can I give it a go?”

  “He only has two kneecaps,” Death said. “You said not to kill him, too much torture and people will surely hear.”

  “They will just think his screams are from being fucked hard.”

  “I don’t know anything else!” he begged in a whisper. “Please, I’m not even friends with the guy! It’s just a boast I make to seem a better warrior! Please let me go.”

  Death sat his victim upright and grabbed his throat from behind, sealing his mouth shut. He grabbed one of the man’s arms and kept it behind his back. “Grab the other arm,” he told Snow.

  She did it and waited for instructions.

  Hm… what could I say to test her devotion to me?

  “Bite off his finger.”

  She did so without hesitation, chomping on it like a horse would a carrot, freeing it from the knuckle.

  She gave Death the finger, he held it like a snack and took a nibble of the fresh red. I forgot how delicious human flesh tastes, a single crumb of it has sated me more than that fish.” His heart felt strange, seeing Snow with bloody lips and eyes waiting for praise.

  Is this the command affecting my thoughts, or am I finding her pretty on my own terms? I suppose I can share with her. He reached out an arm. Snow shuffled over on her knees and waited at the end of the bed. The man was still trying to scream through Death’s hand.

  “Your reward,” said Death, “is to share my hunger. Eat.”

  She stuck out her tongue and widened her mouth as much as she could. He slipped the finger in and then gently put his palm under her chin, insisting she seal her lips and chew.

  She crunched the finger to a mush. Bone, fat, nail, tendon, nerve, all turned to a light yellowy orange paste with spots of red. She opened her mouth a final time and let him see her hard work, then swallowed it after he pressed a thumb to her throat. He felt it travel down, and he felt strangely proud of her.

  She truly is on my side, Death thought. No normal person would do such an act.

  “You have done well,” he said. “Good Snow.”

  He patted her head then cupped her cheek, wiping the blood from her lips and making her suck it off his thumb.

  She rubbed her head against his knuckles like a cat, then asked if she could’ve done better, chewed faster, took more flesh, but Death was satisfied.

  “I’m going to remove my hand,” he whispered to the man. “If you scream, the next thing she bites off will be a lot more painful.”

  “The scarred man has a powerful weapon,” he gurgled. “I don’t know what it is… but it’s how he is so legendary.”

  That must be my scythe. I am coming, Souleis, loving hands will grip your handle once more if you remain patient.

  “You did have more information,” Snow whispered sinisterly. “Punishment for lying should be the removal of a cock.”

  “He would bleed out like a gutted pig, leave him be, anything more and he would surely die of shock,” Death advised. “Come, Snow, you will take me to Fool’s Lake, and we will scout to see if this scarred man is the one from my memories.”

  As they stood, Snow threw herself into Death’s arms, nestling against his chest with soft moans. “Did I do good?”

  “Amazing, Snow, I am proud.”

  She released a yip and jolted in surprise. The man, for some odd reason, decided to spank Snow’s ass.

  Two commands conflicting… my soul is prioritising the initial command rather than the latest.

  Death pounced on instinct, beating the man senseless. He didn’t stop when he had won. He laughed maniacally as he remembered her command: ‘if any man tries to touch me in a way that makes me not innocent for you, you will kill them.’

  He stabbed the man in the belly, lungs, and finished him off with a quick flick over his throat and ripping out his tongue through the fresh gash.

  Death felt alive.

  He was covered in sprays of blood, panting from welcomed exhaustion. He unravelled the cloth on his hand, and saw that his puncture had half-healed, now just a simple scab on either side. His muscles felt stronger, but not as much as he had wished. In the ten thousand years of his imprisonment, his draining power grew stale and unoptimised.

  My power has only increased by a little, maybe less than a tenth of what it normally should be. Progress is progress, I feel whole.

  “I ordered you not to kill him!” Snow whimpered. “How will we get out of this tavern alive when they find this? Death, why did you ignore my command?”

  He turned to her with a devious smile. “Ignore?” he said with a chuckle. “A man touched you and threatened your innocence, I did exactly as you once asked… I was just following your command.”