The bitter taste of blood filled Corin's mouth. His body ached all over, and exhaustion spread through him, making his legs buckle until he could barely stand.
'Damn it, if only I had more charms,' Corin thought bitterly. He clenched his fist, barely suppressing his burning rage. "Oh, how I wish I could kill the bastard." But he had to hold it in; otherwise, he wouldn't survive the consequences.
The higher-ups were searching for certain people. He didn't know the exact criteria, but he knew one thing: they had to be strong, just like this boy. Corin had survived the most hopeless time of humanity, back when the Eye of Unmaking appeared. He had fought to survive both before and after joining the clan.
That included battles with other"burdened," but he had never seen any burdened as strong as that bastard.
"Malik, lend me a charm," Corin asked hesitantly. His companion leaning on a greatmace was looking far less battered. Malik let out a heavy sigh, took out a charm from his pocket, and gave it to Corin. These charms were incredibly hard to get, and the clan's supply was limited. They were a powerful boon even for those of higher rank, so they were only given out sparingly for the most important missions.
This was why they were in such a terrible predicament. Crippled and with dwindling supplies, they had no room for mistakes. They had to reach the capital. Travelling through these ruins, where God knows what horrors dwell, was a death sentence without the charms. Their power was unique: they could freeze anything, not in a physical sense, but by freezing the abstract concept itself. When Corin used it to stop the bleeding, the charm froze the very concept of his wound bleeding.
"Prepare to leave," Corin ordered, his tone grim. "Jeron, make sure he is knocked out."
The large man, Jeron, turned to Corin. "Do we have any sedatives left, sir?"
"No, we used it all on his brother," Malik replied in his stead, with a tint of annoyance. "Just knock him out."
As Jeron advanced towards the boy, they heard the sudden bang of gunshots, followed by the deafening noise of something crashing. Jeron halted. They all tensed as they glanced in the direction of the sound—the very direction they were headed.
"Curses, this can't be a coincidence," Malik hissed.
"It might be an ambush," Jeron said, not hiding his wariness. "Can't we take another route?"
"Calm down. This is the safest route," Corin reassured them, his voice confident. "In this state, we wouldn't survive the perils on the other paths."
"B-but sir—"
Before Jeron could finish, Corin cut him off. "Even if it is an ambush, it really isn't a threat. Think about it. We heard gunshots, did we not? Who uses guns these days? They can't seriously harm even a low-level 'burdened,' so whoever it is must be either mundane or a dormant at best."
"Still, we should check," Malik gazed at the distance with a lost expression.
Corin gazed at Malik with a frown.
"Yes, we should," Jeron agreed in a relaxed tone. Corin's frown grew deeper. 'Why are they-' before he could finish the thought, a cold spike of dread, a premonition, lanced through his gut. Something was terribly wrong.
His head snapped back, his eyes searching for the one variable he hadn't accounted for—the source of all their current misery. He looked at the captive. The boy's head was still bowed, a perfect mask of pathetic defeat. But as Corin watched, the boy slowly lifted his head. The matted hair parted, and his eyes, gleaming with a terrifying intelligence, met Corin's. A vicious, bloody smile split his face, full of chilling malice.
A smile that promised ruin and reveled in the trap Corin was walking into. In that instant, Corin didn't see a captive boy; he saw the monster they had foolishly cornered.
Before he knew it, his lips began to move on their own.
Corin gritted his teeth and spoke in a muffled voice, "Jeron, stay here. Malik and I will check." The words hung in the air, alien and wrong. Corin's mind screamed in protest, the chilling image of that wicked smile seared onto the back of his eyelids. A trap. It was a trap! He tried to shout, to warn Malik again, to wrestle back control of his own tongue.
He glanced at Malik. The wariness that had been etched on his companion's face was gone, replaced by the same placid, empty resolve. Malik simply nodded, his greatmace held loosely in his grip, as if he were heading out for a routine patrol.
The sight pricked at Corin's pride, making his own hesitation feel like a shameful failure.
'Why am I hesitating?' The thought came sharp, condemning, but it felt foreign in his own mind. 'This isn't some red zone. What's the worst that could happen? I've faced worse. Far worse.'
The caution that had preserved him for years twisted into something bitter, shameful—like a shackle he needed to break. A grim smile curled his lips. Corin was full of dark resolve. The caution that had kept him alive for years suddenly felt like a chain, and he was eager to break it. A grim smile touched Corin's lips.
'Whoever they are,' he thought, the last of his wariness burning away like fog in the sun, 'they sure are unlucky.'
Without another word, Corin turned and walked, his stride now confident and purposeful, aimed directly at the heart of the sound. As they moved, a profound silence descended upon the ruins.
****
Kael's fingers dug into the gritty ledge of the second-story window, the only muscles in his body that dared to move. He held his breath, the air thick with the taste of rust and old stone. Below, in the small courtyard he had chosen, his two targets emerged from the shadows.
They moved with a strange, purposeful stride, their heads high. There was no caution in their steps, none of the wariness Kael had counted on when he first laid this desperate plan. It was wrong. It was too confident.
'Whatever, it's good for me,' Kael thought, still wary. There was no more time to think. As the two men reached the center of the courtyard, looking around in confusion at the emptiness, Kael shifted his weight. He planted his boot against the splintered, groaning support beam he'd spent the last hour positioning. With a guttural yell that was torn from his lungs, he kicked.
For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Then, with a deafening sound, the entire facade of the opposite building gave way. A tidal wave of concrete and twisted rebar crashed down into the courtyard behind them, sealing the very entrance they had just used. A dense, choking cloud of grey dust erupted, swallowing everything from sight.
Adrenaline flooded Kael's veins. The first part was done. But the sound would travel. It would bring the real monster he was using as bait. He had seconds to escape.
Pushing off the ledge, he landed silently on the floor inside, turning to sprint down the darkened hallway. The clock was ticking.
The hallway was enveloped in darkness, and Kael plunged down it, his lungs burning, the gritty taste of dust coating his teeth. Every second wasted was a second closer to the monster arriving, a second closer to the kidnappers regaining their senses. His plan was a cascade of falling dominoes, and if he wasn't fast enough, he'd be crushed by them. He vaulted over a collapsed section of floor, landing in a spray of shattered glass ten feet below. He rolled, absorbing the impact, and came up sprinting. His mind was a frantic metronome counting down to failure.
Then a screech tore through the night, a sound of scraping metal and organic agony that vibrated in Kael's bones. It was the monster. It was closer than he'd expected.
He pushed himself faster, muscles screaming in protest. Bursting out of the building's shattered entrance, he skidded behind the husk of a burned-out vehicle before sprinting toward the camp with everything he had. But the kidnappers were already searching, and it didn't take long before they spotted him.
"There he is!!" Malik's yell cut through the ringing in Kael's ears.
Kael didn't wait. He sprinted with all his might towards the camp, their yells echoing behind him. Their direct path was sealed by the debris. It would take them precious moments to detour. Every second was a lifeline. He ran without looking back, his lungs felt like they were on fire, and his legs were on the verge of failing, focusing only on putting as much distance as possible between himself and his pursuers.
After running for around a minute, he risked a sharp turn into a collapsed alleyway, pressing himself into the shadows. He listened, his heart hammering against his ribs.
'Alright... it seems like I lost them,' Kael thought, gasping for air. He was drained, but he couldn't stop. He pushed off the wall to keep moving, grateful he hadn't passed out. But the relief did not last long.
Suddenly, a profound sluggishness washed over him. It wasn't just exhaustion. He tried to run but his already tired legs felt like they were sinking into wet concrete. Each step became a monumental effort, as if he were trying to run through deep water.
'W-what?' Kael's chest tightened in panic.
He stumbled, forcing himself to look back. The alley gave him a clear view of the path he'd taken. They weren't there. Then his eyes scanned higher. Standing atop a pile of rubble, giving him a clear line of sight, was Corin. He was standing perfectly still, one hand outstretched. He was continuously chanting something. The crushing weight on Kael's limbs was joined by a new, more terrifying pressure. He felt his mind being taken over by something alien, cold and invasive. It slipped through the cracks of his consciousness like freezing water. Kael's own thoughts felt sluggish, distant, like words spoken by a stranger.
Panic clawed at him, but even that felt muted, stolen by the thief in his own mind. Kael's heart roared in terror. He had to do something fast, otherwise he'd turn into a mindless puppet.
He took a deep breath, trying to regain composure. He had to think, and panicking certainly wouldn't help. So Kael calmed himself, trying to find the optimal solution. A sudden realization hit him, and an idea began to form. Kael looked at the crest hopefully.
'This might work!'