Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 5967

Chapter 5967: A Scream Of Pain! II

She did not stay a hoe. Her long handle drew in and shortened, and her blade softened and curved and drew inward, and the light that she was made of gathered itself into a shape, small and upright, standing in the snow on two feet. When it settled, she was a person, or something close to one, no taller than THE Farmer’s waist.

She was small and round-faced and unfathomably sweet to look at, and at the same time she looked very, very old, with the look of something that had existed since before anything else had a name.

Her skin shone blue and gold, smooth and faintly glowing, and across it ran thin rivers of molten white, branching and rejoining over her arms and her cheeks and down the back of her neck, tracing exactly where her nine pieces had once been joined.

Her hair was long and fine and made of drifting threads of gold light, and her eyes were large and deep blue, rimmed with gold, ancient and gentle and a little startled, and she wore a simple wrap of woven blue-gold light that fell to her bare feet.

She looked down at her new hands, small and blue-gold with white rivers running across the backs of them, and she flexed them, and they moved. She could stand. She could see with eyes now, and feel the snow on her skin, and breathe the cold air of the farm. And for the first time, a thought came to her that she had never been able to think before, quiet and hopeful and very bright. Maybe, just maybe, she could be of real use to THE Farmer now.

She turned toward him. He was standing exactly where he had been, staring down at her with his mouth slightly open and his gold and obsidian eyes as wide as she had ever seen them, and she thought his face was the most shocked she had ever seen it, too. The mighty Hoe straightened her small back, and set her small hands together in front of her, and began to bow to him, deeply, as deeply as she knew how.

As she was doing so...

HUUM!

A horrific pain hit her before she was halfway down. It went through her all at once, from the top of her head to her bare feet, and her small body doubled over in the snow and her hands clenched against her stomach.

She knew this pain. It was the pain of being broken, the pain she had carried in her seams for as long as she could remember, the oldest thing she knew. But it was not coming from her seams. Her seams were gone.

It was coming from something else, something set deep inside her pieces, very old and very cold. As the pain climbed, she understood what it was, and the understanding was worse than the pain. It was a condition. Someone had placed it inside the pieces of her long ago, so that if enough of her were ever gathered together again, if nine pieces ever became one, this pain would wake and force her to cry out, and her cry would be a signal, so that whoever had placed it would know where she was.

Someone had wanted to find her. Something had wanted to know the moment she was whole again.

THE Farmer’s hands closed around her. He was kneeling in the snow in front of her, his face gone pale, and his authority poured into her all at once, warm and endless and deep, an endless warm sea of it flowing through every part of her. It soothed everything it touched, and it did not touch this. The pain went on climbing, untouched, and she felt him feel that, and push harder, and still nothing changed.

And because he had told her it was okay, she screamed.