The forest trembled under the weight of their pursuit, as the bandits crashed through the undergrowth with reckless abandon. Their heavy footfalls echoed through the night, a rhythmic counterpoint to the whisper of leaves and the crack of branches. The battle that had birthed their flight was now nothing more than a distant memory, swallowed by the darkness that pressed in around them. Yet, the thrill of combat still coursed through their veins, a potent cocktail of fear and triumph.
Their prize, the unconscious form of Luxana, was cradled in the massive arms of the group's largest member. Her delicate frame seemed almost ethereal against his brutish bulk, a stark contrast of fragility and strength. As they pressed on, her limp body swayed with each thunderous step, a silent reminder of the violence that had brought them to this moment.
At last, they burst into a small clearing, a momentary respite from the suffocating embrace of the forest. Slivers of moonlight, like silver blades, pierced the dense canopy above, casting an otherworldly glow upon the scene. The wan illumination painted grotesque shadows across the bandits' battle-scarred visages, transforming them into nightmarish caricatures of men.
Their leader, a mountain of a man whose very presence seemed to dominate the clearing, came to a halt. His massive frame heaved with exertion as he rolled his shoulders, the movement rippling through muscles honed by years of brutal combat. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble, like stones grinding against each other in the depths of the earth, filling the air with a palpable sense of menace.
"The little wench ain't even strugglin'," one of the brigands scoffed, his voice laced with disdain as he nudged Luxana's motionless form with the toe of his mud-caked boot. "Figured she'd put up more of a fight, what with all the screamin' and thrashin'."
The leader, his massive frame silhouetted against the dim moonlight, let out a guttural sound of dismissal. With callous indifference, he unceremoniously released his grip on Luxana, allowing her to tumble unceremoniously onto the damp, moss-covered forest floor. His voice, rough as tree bark, rumbled through the clearing, "She's got more sense than that. The brat's clever enough to know when she's been bested."
The instant her body made contact with the earth, a change rippled through Luxana. Her eyelids, which had been stubbornly closed throughout their flight, suddenly fluttered open. But the eyes that gazed up at her captors were not what they had expected.
There was no trace of the wild, frantic fear they had anticipated.
Not a hint of the panic that should have consumed her.
Instead, her gaze was steady.
Composed.
Unnervingly deliberate.
In that moment, as Luxana's eyes met those of her captors, an unsettling realization began to dawn. Perhaps, they pondered, it was not she who had been bested after all.
Luxana rose with deliberate grace, her movements fluid and unhurried as she stretched her limbs, reminiscent of one rousing from a peaceful slumber. The flickering torchlight cast an otherworldly glow upon her alabaster skin, highlighting the unsettling gleam in her obsidian eyes. An inexplicable tension permeated the air surrounding her, akin to the electric charge preceding a tempest.
With calculated slowness, she raised her right hand, her fingers adopting the unmistakable shape of a finger gun—thumb erect, forefinger extended, remaining digits curled inward. She canted her wrist ever so slightly, the gesture both casual and menacing.
*Click*
The sound, barely audible, preceded a spark that ignited beneath the colossal bandit's chin. What began as a seemingly innocuous flicker swiftly transformed into a roaring inferno, engulfing him before he could muster a response.
The finger gun, typically a harmless gesture, had become a conduit for Luxana's mysterious power. In her hands, this simple motion had unleashed a force as deadly as any conventional firearm, turning the tables on her captors in a heartbeat.
As the flames consumed the bandit, the others could only watch in horror, realizing too late that their prize was far more dangerous than they had ever imagined. Luxana's calm demeanor belied the lethal potential she wielded, leaving no doubt that the hunters had unwittingly become the hunted.
The inferno erupted with savage intensity, engulfing the bandit's head in a maelstrom of unnatural flames. This was no ordinary fire; it possessed an otherworldly quality, clinging to his skin with sentient malevolence, burrowing into his flesh with ravenous hunger. His agonized howls shattered the night's stillness, a primal, guttural sound that echoed through the forest as he reeled backward, his fingers frantically clawing at his immolating visage.
The remaining brigands recoiled in abject horror, their eyes wide with disbelief, their weapons quivering in suddenly unsteady hands. Their voices, thick with terror, broke the stunned silence:
"What manner of sorcery is this?"
"She—she didn't even lay a finger on him!"
"By the gods, she's a fiend from the depths of hell!"
Amidst the chaos, Luxana remained motionless, a diminutive figure bathed in the hellish glow of the burning man. Her countenance betrayed no emotion, an inscrutable mask that only heightened the bandits' mounting dread.
With deliberate slowness, she raised her left hand, mirroring the gesture of her right. In a fluid, almost languid motion, she swept her arm through the air before her.
The flames, as if bound to her will, obeyed.
Like a tsunami of fire, the inferno leapt from the first victim, surging towards the remaining bandits with terrifying speed and precision. One by one, they ignited, their bodies becoming living torches.
The conflagration exploded across their forms, serpentine tendrils of flame coiling around limbs, torsos, and heads. Their agonized shrieks pierced the night, a cacophony of suffering that mingled with the voracious crackling of the supernatural fire. Weapons clattered to the ground as they flailed in desperate, futile attempts to extinguish the relentless flames.
But this was no ordinary blaze. It defied the laws of nature, burning with an intensity and purpose that spoke of something far more sinister than mere fire. In Luxana's hands, it had become an instrument of retribution, turning the forest clearing into a vision of hell on earth.
The supernatural flames clung to the bandits with relentless tenacity, defying all attempts at extinguishment. No amount of frantic slapping or desperate rolling could quell the inferno that enveloped them. The fire seemed to possess a malevolent intelligence, adhering to their bodies like a voracious, living entity. It methodically consumed their once-imposing forms, reducing them to writhing, smoldering remnants of their former selves.
Amidst the chaos, one bandit, clinging to the last vestiges of life, managed to lock eyes with Luxana through the shimmering haze of heat. His lips quivered, each labored breath a testament to his rapidly fading existence.
"Wh-what... are you?" he rasped, his voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
Luxana's response was nothing more than a soft exhalation, yet it carried an otherworldly weight. As if commanded, the flames flickered in response to her breath, their dance becoming more subdued.
In an instant, an eerie silence descended upon the forest. The once-fearsome bandits, men who had terrorized and brutalized with impunity, were now reduced to nothing more than charred, lifeless husks scattered across the forest floor. Remarkably, the surrounding trees stood untouched, silent sentinels to the carnage that had unfolded. Even more astonishing was the ground beneath Luxana's feet, which remained cool and unblemished, utterly unaffected by the hellish inferno she had conjured.
Luxana stood motionless, her ruby-red eyes inscrutable as she surveyed the scene of destruction. The contrast between her diminutive form and the devastation surrounding her was stark, a chilling reminder of the immense power contained within her unassuming frame.
The acrid stench of charred flesh permeated the air as Helios and Roxana erupted into the clearing, their chests heaving from exertion. Their eyes, Helios' gleaming ruby red and Roxana's piercing zircon blue, surveyed the scene of devastation illuminated by the fading glow of dying embers. Scattered across the forest floor lay the smoldering remains of the bandits, their bodies reduced to silent, charred husks.
Yet the gruesome tableau failed to capture their attention for long. Their gazes were inexorably drawn to the focal point of the destruction—a small figure standing amidst the carnage, untouched by the flames that had consumed everything around her.
Luxana stood motionless, her diminutive frame a stark contrast to the devastation surrounding her. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, met those of the newcomers without a hint of surprise or emotion. The air around her seemed to shimmer with residual heat, a testament to the otherworldly power she had unleashed.
Helios took a cautious step forward, his voice barely above a whisper, "Luxana..."
Roxana's hand instinctively reached for Helios' arm, her fingers tightening around his sleeve as she sensed the latent danger emanating from the seemingly harmless girl before them.
At the epicenter of the devastation stood Luxana, a stark contrast to the destruction surrounding her. Her long, ebony hair hung in disarray, clinging to her face in sweat-dampened strands. Her chest heaved with labored breaths, her once-immaculate attire now marred by soot and blood—none of which belonged to her. But it was her eyes that transfixed Helios and Roxana, rooting them to the spot.
Those ruby red eyes—mirroring Helios' own—gleamed with an otherworldly radiance in the pale moonlight, their vibrancy bordering on the unnatural. The intensity of her gaze seemed to hold a power all its own, hinting at the formidable abilities she had just unleashed.
A shiver of apprehension coursed through Roxana's body.
This is beyond the realm of normalcy.
As they cautiously approached, hands extended towards Luxana—
She trembled violently.
A powerful spasm seized her entire frame, causing her knees to give way.
Before Helios or Roxana could intervene, Luxana crumpled to the forest floor, her fingers digging into the earth beneath her.
And then—
A strangled gasp tore from Luxana's throat, her body convulsing violently as she lurched forward. Her trembling hand flew to her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the sound, but it was no use. What followed was grotesque—a wet, guttural noise that seemed to rise from the very depths of her being.
And then came the blood.
A deep, viscous crimson spilled between her fingers, cascading from her lips in a torrent. It splattered against the earth in thick rivulets, pooling beneath her trembling frame and saturating the air with its metallic tang.
Helios froze, his breath catching in his throat.
Roxana's heart stopped mid-beat.
"Luxana—?!"
Their voices broke the suffocating silence as they dropped to their knees beside her, panic etched across their faces. Helios gripped her shoulders firmly, his fingers digging into her as desperation seeped into his voice.
"What's happening to you?"
Luxana did not answer. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her hands clawing at the dirt as though seeking something solid to anchor herself. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the fading embers casting flickering shadows over the scene of horror and helplessness.
Luxana struggled for breath, her body wracked with violent convulsions as more blood gushed forth. Her vision blurred, dark spots encroaching at the periphery, and then—
A searing pain erupted along her left arm.
The mark.
It blazed to life, its glow intensifying against her skin, pulsating as though some dormant force within her had suddenly awakened.
Helios' gaze snapped to the mark, his stomach churning with dread. "That mark—"
His words were abruptly cut short as a sound—faint at first, then swelling in volume—rent the night air.
Laughter.
A laugh so loud, so distorted and unnatural, it sent shivers cascading through the forest, chilling the very marrow of their bones.
The laughter seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once, filling the clearing with its eerie resonance. It was a sound that spoke of madness and power, of something ancient and terrible awakening.
Helios and Roxana's heads snapped upward, their attention drawn to the ominous figure hovering high above the clearing.
Suspended effortlessly in the ink-black sky was The Joker—the very same man Luxana had encountered in Romania. His pale face stretched into a sinister grin, framed by dark attire that fluttered lightly in the night breeze. His laughter, chilling and distorted, echoed through the forest like a haunting symphony that refused to fade.
But he was not alone.
In his arms, he cradled Diana—the enigmatic girl who wielded control over Omeen. Her face was a blank canvas, devoid of emotion, unreadable in its stillness. Perched atop his shoulders was Luca, the peculiar boy who embodied both Azone and Alizah. Unlike Diana, Luca wore a faint smirk, his expression tinged with amusement as he observed the chaos unfolding below.
The Joker's ruby-red eyes gleamed with unrestrained delight, locking onto Luxana as she writhed in agony on the ground. Her trembling form seemed to entertain him, a spectacle worthy of his twisted amusement.
Then, his lips parted, and his voice dripped with mockery and malice.
"Well, well, well... it seems the little monster is finally beginning to unravel."
His laughter erupted once more, deafening and all-encompassing, as though the very heavens trembled under its weight. The forest seemed to shrink beneath the oppressive sound, signaling one chilling truth:
The hunt had only just begun.
The Joker descended with eerie grace, his boots touching the scorched earth as if he were stepping onto a stage. His smirk remained fixed, a mask of cruel amusement that never wavered.
Helios' ruby-red eyes narrowed, suspicion and anger burning within them. His body tensed, fists clenched at his sides, ready for any sudden move from this unexpected intruder.
Roxana, in stark contrast, rose to her full height, her bright orange hair flowing behind her like a cascade of fire. Her zircon-blue eyes, reminiscent of Luxana's own, flashed with a cold fury as she fixed the Joker with an unwavering glare.
"To think... you managed to survive," Roxana's voice cut through the air, crisp and unyielding, betraying no hint of fear or surprise.
The Joker's response came in the form of a low, amused chuckle before his voice rang out, each word dripping with mockery—
"How could I not, dear sister?"
Helios' breath caught in his throat, the revelation striking him like a physical blow.
Helios' mind churned, grappling with the weight of the Joker's words. Was this some cruel jest? No—the gravity in the Joker's voice left no room for doubt.
To be Continued...