Twack, twack, twack! — the repetitive sound echoed across the dark basement. Mold that grew in the corners filled the space with a distinctive smell. Sweat was dripping from Denir's body. It was about four a.m., but he didn't plan to rest even for a bit. The metal plates were soft, so he wouldn't be tired if he was doing something small. On the other hand, Mooden was forging something larger. The half-conscious man was smithing an armour from scratch. The table with his equipment shook with every strike. There was a hammer, square pieces of nickel alloy, and, of course, a manual on armour craftsmanship. From time to time, his eyes closed on their own, but he had found a good remedy for it. He would throw everything to the side and slap himself. As he finalised today's work, his face was red, almost as if he had thrown hands with somebody.
'Three days remain. I have no freaking time to spare. I'll nap for two hours today and tomorrow. Before the Sloth's siege, I'll have to recover from the sleep worth a shit. My vision becomes blurrier with every hit, damn... The clock seems to go faster with every minute I work here. Still, the armour isn't half of my necessary preparations. I have battle experience similar to a historian. Just kill me already... I can't use the Darkest Cloak for all the vampires. Even if I could, they would probably notice after five eliminations. The chest plate is finished, and the back one is halfway done. I think I deserve some rest,' he thought, heading out of the room. He lifted a black curtain and opened the wooden door. As the man was going upstairs, he noticed the coffee bag. The butcher rushed to it, picked it up, and slammed it against the wall. The beans spread onto the stairs. A smirk appeared on his face for a moment.
"Who thought that coffee tastes good? It's bitter as hell, and it's nowhere close to the Carolan tea. I'll ask you once again. Who the hell thinks coffee is great?! Huh! Answer me, you cruel world!" he argued with himself. His eyebrows frowned shortly after.
Argh! — Denir fell to the ground, curling down in pain. Ekh, ekh — he was coughing blood. A taste of iron filled his throat. His eyes teared up, and his breathing grew heavy. He crawled to a cabinet, searching for a remedy. It was cramped with the citrus fruits he had bought. The man had found a green substance, which he injected into his thigh. After a while, his senses returned. Conscious, yet lifeless as it gets, he stood up. Moodeen looked out of the window; it was sunrise. Most would wake up at that time, but the butcher was falling asleep. With the last ounces of his strength, he threw himself on the couch. The man didn't bother to set an alarm; he was sure to wake up after two hours. After all, he stressed out like hell. Moreover, his body was stiff as a rock and covered in goose bumps. Still, he fell asleep instantaneously, despite his horrible condition.
At the same time, someone else had woken up. Laudis got up from bed and stretched. His right hand burned like he had touched molten iron. He sat on the couch, trying to keep cool. The youth wanted to endure his agony for a little longer. Perhaps Udania could heal him, yet still, he snapped in an instant. It wasn't his mental strength's fault, but his body's. His flesh rushed out of the hotel on its own. The receptionist glanced at him with curiosity. The kid stood before the leather bag that he had been striking the previous night.
'It's no use, I don't have my wooden sword—'
His hand hurt even more than earlier, which was surprising to him. The youth fell to the ground, staying conscious with his last ounces of strength. The boy thought he had reached his pain limit. Yet, he was greatly mistaken. It was a mere beginning of the suffering he would endure later on...
'To hell! I can't go back for it... I guess I have no other choice then...'
Laudis, supporting himself on a wall, stood up. His legs were trembling, and sweat poured down his body. Thu — the youth hit the target for the first time. Thu, thu, thu! With every punch, the pain slowly faded away, yet his breathing grew heavier, and his heartbeat was racing. After a while, he noticed red trails flying in the air and the stains on the leather. He didn't concern himself much about them, thinking he must be imagining things. However, the kid was quite far from the truth.
'Every strike makes my suffering go a little farther away. I don't know why, but somehow it's possible to neutralise pain with a physical activity. Damn, I didn't run in a while, my breathing is heavy as shit. Ten-minute practice won't make me tired, would it?' he thought, punching. A subtle smirk drew on his serious face.
"Ahhh... I didn't sleep too well," stated Solisia, wiping her eyes. She noticed the absence of Crimson Eye.
"Have you seen him, Udania?"
"No? Should I? I woke up not long ago," the blue-haired woman replied, brushing her hair.
"Shh! You hear that?" asked Dantenium, focusing on the quiet noise.
"Yeah... Almost like someone's hitting a bag—" the girl snapped in a second, glancing in the corner. The wooden sword laid in the corner, supported by two walls. She sprinted out of the room, almost jumping from the staircase.
The prodigy stood frozen in disbelief. The youth was striking the bag for at least one hour straight. His hands and forearms were covered in blood. His eyes were empty. His hair was messy and wet. He was training in a light-red puddle. Thu, thu! — the strikes spread across the hotel's yard. She tried to come closer, but Dante stopped her in time. The boy turned back for a second. His expression told them, 'Go to hell, you, bastards', or so they had interpreted.
"You cannot stop him. He's solely focused on the target. Thus, he will neutralise any obstacle."
"Then, what can I do?"
"Just watch."
The Warrior of Hades took a deep breath and ducked up to him. Laudis spun in place, trying to deliver a right hook to the man's jaw. He dodged the strike effortlessly and punched his stomach. The youth folded like a book. The crimson-haired took him over his right arm. He dragged him to the hotel.
"Where am I?" asked Laudis, regaining his senses. He looked around. The rest of the Crusaders, without Gladius, were in front of him. As for him, the kid was sitting on the couch.
"In the hotel. Now, would you tell us, why the hell are you mentally challenged?" stated Dante with a wide, ironic smile.
"Why do you think so?"
The man took his hands and showed him his knuckles. They were red, scratched, and covered in blood. As soon as the youth had touched them, the pain went through his body. It was weaker than the one he had experienced with his right hand before; therefore, he faked his reaction. Why wouldn't he be grateful for a lesser suffering?
"Okay, okay. I get it. Still, why would you care about it? It's not like they're your hands."
"Indeed, they aren't mine, yet you damage yourself just before the crucial fight. If I were a captain, you would be suspended for such behavior."
"As the captain, I'll punish you later. From now on, remember to wrap them beforehand. You wouldn't want another wound, would you?" declared Gladius, entering the room.
"Yes..."
The Crusaders left the hotel and headed outside the city. The sun slowly drifted in a cloudless sky. The air was dry and rough. The wind blew so lightly that only the surface sand moved. Vendors were shouting, trying to get attention. Most locals were working at that time, leaving the vast majority of customers foreigners. A strong smell of incense and spices entangled them, giving the women a minor headache.
'The pain went away for a while. Kill me, it hurts even more than before. If we stopped, I'd fall to the ground. Damn, it burns like shit,' he thought, hiding his suffering.
They were only a few meters from the gate when suddenly, a man bumped into Laudis.
"Excuse me," he blurted, distancing himself. He quickly hooded himself and headed to the city center.
"Stay where you are; otherwise, I'll cut your dirty hands," the boy replied, grabbing his forearms. His legs gave up; even if he wanted to, he couldn't move even a meter.
"Quit it. He bumped into you, but he didn't do anything else. Leave him by," stated Solisia, somewhat disappointed by his attitude.
"Will you show them what you've stolen, huh?" the youth declared, reaching for his sword.
"Just take it and leave me alone, you, freak," the thug muttered, trying to escape from his catch.
"Do you think I'm stupid? Give me my sack of money, or I'll slash you up with my knife," Crimson Eye continued. Disgust drew on his face. The kid himself didn't know why he was so pissed by a mere thief. It could be explained that it was a mix of exhaustion and pain, forcing his odd behaviour. After all, he used to be one of them. Still, his temper was the shortest it had been in his entire life. His grip tightened, and his forearm veins popped out under his light blue robe. He couldn't distinguish any sound. He could only hear a few rustles near him. Suddenly, he felt a strong mana source on his right shoulder. It was Dante, to be precise, his left hand. Laudis returned to his senses. The Crusaders looked at him with uncertainty. The thug's hands were slowly losing circulation, changing to light purple. His eyes were glazed, almost like they were saying, 'Forgive me. ' His whole body was trembling in fear. The youth let go of him, and he returned his money sack in an instant. Then, the thief bowed, hitting the ground. The bystanders looked at the sight, marvelled, and scared. On the one hand, they appreciated the return of stolen coins. On the other hand, no thief would bow to anyone. The boy reached out his right hand, craving to use his Mark of Knowledge. Gladius lightly smacked both the man and the youth, so they could regain their senses. The paladin had hooded the others, and they left Zachiria.star
"What's wrong with you?" murmured Solisia, glancing at him.
"Do you think it was wrong? Do you think you would go easy on that thug? Do you think you would do better? To all of those questions, there is only one answer, no chance in the damn hell. My hand was burning since morning, and that's why I went outside. I started punching the bag to hide the pain, the pain from my hand that felt like it had been burned in the fire. Then, when I had been tired and pissed, a thug robbed me. My patience had had enough. I let loose of some of my boundaries. You shouldn't judge someone if you don't know the reasons behind his actions," responded Laudis. He wiped off sweat from his forehead.
"I don't think he did anything wrong. Look, someone tried to steal from him. He had every right to execute the justice, even if it came down to decapitating the thief," interupted Dante, balancing his sword on his right palm.
"Are you all right? Since when were you so aggressive—" the girl continued, frowning.
"I was joking. Keep going, youngling," he said, patting her head. From the four of them, only Laudis noticed something odd about his response. His eyebrows twitched a little; it could have been a tick, and that's how the youth had classified it.
Star of Piscaria wasn't a fan of it, and she tried to punch him. The man caught her forearms during the strike and started carrying her on his back. At first, she threw some kicks, but after a while, the girl accepted the act. Udania grabbed the boy's sleeve.
"Can I try to heal your hand?" she whispered.
"If that's not a huge deal, then I'd be grateful about it."
An honest smile drew on her face. The blue-haired recited the spell and began healing. She held his hands tightly, almost like she didn't want to let go of them. His knuckles healed completely, and his hand burned less.
"Thank you," he told her, with a smirk. In reality, magic only healed his knuckles. The pain was the same as it was before. The care of someone else was enough to ease his suffering.
"No problem," she replied, walking beside him.
'If I had an older sister, I'd want her to be like Udania,' thought Laudis, looking at the dunes.
Somewhere else, Denir was in an opposite situation. He stood in a pit filled with snakes. The walls were too steep to climb out of. The animals were slowly tangling around him. He shook them off with force, stomping on them, but from every dead one, two new ones appeared. The butcher was fuming. He started picking them up and ripping their heads off. Blood burst out of their thin and slimy bodies. A stench of rotten corpses filled the space. After a while, he realised there were too many of them to handle. He accepted his fate. Vampire's Butcher lay down and awaited them. The reptiles tightened around his thin body and bit into him. When he was losing consciousness, one huge one was coming from the sky. It opened his mouth and aimed for his head. When it was a few meters above him, Moodeen noticed that it had no eyes. Tsch — the snake decapitated the man. Denir woke up.