Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

Hell and High Waters

The tail end of my stressful night is defined by an uncanny silence. I walk along the trench of spikes encircling the mansion as I stare out across the gap and watch for enemy reconnaissance. It ended up snowing in the middle of the night when Rouge and I returned to the mansion a day ago. It's built up enough to hide parts of the traps or at least make them harder to see, which works in our favor.

I struggle to keep myself alert, having seen nothing out of the ordinary for the entire night. Two sleepless nights have not helped me either, but I can't let that get in the way of my watch. If the enemy were to discover that we knew of the incoming attack, Zalga would change her plans. If there's anyone lurking on the other side, it'd be my duty to risk life and limb to stop them from seeing the castle alive.

No matter how much I try to distract myself, I can't help but think of my father. Was it right to do that in the first place? What if we end up winning and driving Zalga back? His mercy killing would, instead, become a heartless murder. Rouge would tell me I had a heart if I shed even a single tear, but having emotions does not change the fact that I remain a murderer.

This battle will be a turning point in the war between Slenda and Zalga. I can't afford to let my mourning get in the way of my vigilance. Regret, fear, and sadness would only become a detriment to my will to fight with knife and fist, tooth and nail. I can't hesitate now. Not when my courage matters most.

My surveillance is disturbed by Slenda's telepathy, which makes me jolt from the unannounced link with my thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Slenda asks me.

The tension in my body is purged by a relieved sigh, "Everything's quiet on my end, Slenda."

As I climb up a tree and sit on a frozen branch, Slenda repeats her question, "No, are you alright?"

"What's got you so worried about me?" I ask, focusing my eyes on the shadows along the snow.

"Rouge told me what happened at your old home," Slenda stirs up dark thoughts in my mind.

"And?" I gulp.

She must sense the disturbance in my mind because she apologizes, "What am I saying... this is the worst time to ask about it."

"I doubt I'm the only one thinking of all the ups and downs in life leading up to now," I dismiss the subject, "Is everyone in position?"

"Everyone is reporting heavy silence and nothing more. The sun should rise within the hour. When it does, Zalga will come knocking," Slenda warns.

I shiver despite knowing of our imminent doom. Somehow the fact is worse when someone like Slenda tells it to you straight.

"I recommend sitting in a tree until dawn and holding your position," Slenda suggests, "Ambush the frontmost Dregs. Remember that the Terrors are your number one priority."

"Way ahead of you. I remember what we discussed with Helen. They won't see me coming," I assure Slenda, my leg dangling over the edge of the branch as I lean back onto the trunk.

"Very good, (Y/N). Good luck. Try not to take too many risks," she warns me before cutting off the telepathy.

Resuming my silent observation, I whisper to myself, "I won't."

I may have the skillset worthy of a Proxy, but I'm far from attaining the level of experience needed to be as valuable as Angel or Rouge. There's a real chance that I could slip up and become a Dreg's dinner. A healthy amount of caution is necessary, but not so much as to stop me from engaging any enemies I feel I can handle. Killing as many Dregs as I can before they reach the mansion is a secondary objective, according to Helen. Assassinating the Terrors is my primary goal.