A Gunslinger’s System in a World of Magic

Chapter 78: Triss’ First Kill

The moment the words left his lips, Henry knew he had lost any chance of shutting down the topic, and soon, Triss would ask a question that would 'force' him to go into detail.

Sure enough,

"What does that mean?" Triss asked, sounding genuinely curious despite the slight tone of outrage Henry failed to detect.

Henry took a few seconds to pick his words carefully. He didn't think Yelena's past was his to discuss so when he spoke, he kept her confidence as well as he could.

"She's not a killer," Henry said.

"A killer?," Triss let out and she wrinkled her nose, "Like us, you mean? You think we're killers?"

Her tone made it seem Henry's words had hit her ears wrong but seeing as he couldn't tell how anything he had said could be offensive, Henry continued,

"Well, yes," he said, "We've taken lives… But she's different. She's— been through a lot."

"And you think I haven't? You think Stefan hasn't? You think Charles hasn't?"

Henry looked taken aback by the near spite in her voice and he pulled back in Nyx's saddle with his brow raised,

"That's not what I mean—" he started to say but Triss interrupted,

"I think it's very stupid of you to call us Killers. I don't know about you but no one I know kills because they want to. We kill because we have to!"

"I know—" Henry said looking stunned at how quickly the conversation seemed to be getting away from him. It seemed strange to him that all that anger could be because of a few lines he had just said.

And then Triss tore into a rant,

"I don't think you do. I saw her yesterday, you know. We all did. She killed three people. From what we heard, she killed three more before that. She's as much of a 'killer' as the rest of us.

I don't see how she's different."

Silence followed with only the clopping of horse hooves to break the monotonous air.

Henry thought to break the silence but Triss' lips were pressed so tightly together and the atmosphere was slightly awkward that he wasn't sure how to start.

And then, he heard Nyx's voice in his head.

"-Henry, I don't think this is just about what you said-"

Henry's eyes widened and he looked at the back of Nyx's head. The horse gave no indication that she was having a mental conversation. She just remained intent on following Charles' lead as she continued,

"-I think you hit a sore spot.-"

"-Did I?-" Henry wondered. He didn't notice that there was a different tone to the thought of those two words until Nyx answered,

"-Yes, you did-"

Henry's eyes widened,

"-You can hear my thoughts?-"

"-Not all of them. But I heard you just now and before.-" Nyx answered. She seemed as surprised about it as he was.

'I see,' Henry thought, 'Can you hear me now?'

Nyx said nothing. Her head angled ever so slightly like she was listening for something but she didn't respond.

"-How about now?-" Henry asked and this time he noticed the tone shift.

"-Yep-" Nyx answered gently.

'I think I get it now. She's not hearing my thoughts, I can just talk to her in my head,' Henry surmised.

If he were to describe it, Henry would have said his entire mind was like a room that he could roam in freely without any interference or anyone peeking from outside but after his bond with Nyx, a demarcated space was created.

The demarcated space was small and he could enter it at Will and talk to his horse with his mind while preserving the privacy of his thoughts.

If he were to guess, Henry would say Nyx's mind was the same. She had just been able to access her demarcated space long before he could. This guess made even more sense since Henry had never once heard Nyx's thoughts besides whenever she wanted to 'talk' to him.

The discovery that he didn't have to reduce his voice to a whisper when having a conversation with Nyx for want of people thinking he was going mad to be discussing with a horse, excited Henry. He wondered what the range was.

"-You can talk to her now-" Nyx said suddenly, "-I think she's calmer.-"

"-Oh. Right-" Henry said and then added with a smile, "-You seem to have a lot of insights into human behavior.-"

Nyx chortled,

"-Animals are naturally insightful and observant. We just either don't have enough intelligence to process what we 'observe' or we can't talk and engage about what we 'observe'.

Now get to it.-"

Henry pulled himself out of his conversation with Nyx and opened his mouth but Triss beat him to it with her head bowed slightly. Her tone was unmistakably the start of an apology,

"Listen, Henry—"

"What was your first kill?" Henry asked.

Triss looked to the side at him with her eyes wide,

"Why do you ask?"

Henry shrugged but the look on his face could not be any more serious,

"I'm curious."

Triss pursed and looked away. They rode in silence for a few minutes before her mouth loosened to answer,

"15 years ago," she said.

Henry's brows furrowed. He had hardly ever paid attention to it but he did now and determined Triss was in her early twenties at the most. A kill Fifteen years ago, she must have been very young which made it likely, that the person she killed was very close to her. Or had been close to her.

"Who was it?" Henry asked in a low voice that Triss had no trouble hearing.

"My Father," Triss said.

"I'm sorry," Henry said, his tone somber.

Ahead, Charles dipped his head but otherwise remained silent.

"Don't be," Triss said and let out a laugh lacking any mirth, "He was a horrible man. A terrible drunk."

Another period of silence before Triss let out a long sigh as she started,

"He was never all that good. He never lost an opportunity to beat us. Stefan suffered the most because he always tried to protect me. Proud Older brother that he is.

After Mother got sick, Father got worse. When she died, life became hell.

Mother used to absolve some of Father's frustrations even when she was sick and once she was gone, there was no one to stand and take some of the pain away.

You saw the scars on my back?"

Henry nodded slowly.

"He gave me most of them," Triss said with a sad smile,

"It went on for a month after Mom died and then, one day —I was seven, Stefan was Ten—, he came home drunk as usual and started to beat on Stefan. He was going to start with me but Stefan stood between us and took the pain instead.

I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know I WAS thinking. I grabbed the kitchen knife, lunged at him, and plunged it into his back.

He yelled and called me all sorts of names. He tried to throw me off. He was stronger. Strong as any drunk ever is. Slammed me against the wall before lumbering all about but I held on. I wrapped an arm around his neck, pulled the knife out, and stabbed him again somewhere else.

Over and over and over. Always changing where I stabbed and causing as much damage as I possibly could.

His blood spewed all over me. It blinded me, it entered my mouth. But I didn't care. Not in that moment, at least. I didn't have to see him. I didn't even mind the taste of his blood.

I just wanted him dead.

Eventually, he fell to his knees and then to the ground but I didn't stop. I kept on stabbing him and crying until Stefan recovered from being stunned and pulled me away."