Day 271, Year 986, 41st Millennium
Upper Hive
Amidst the Ruins of a Desolated Zone
Eric's Perspective
Eric truly never imagined that after waking up in the Lower Hive, surviving and living and working hard in the Lower Hive for months, having been lost in a crazy future filled with crime, drugs, psychopaths, mutants, and aliens, he never thought he'd be... being carried like a princess by a beautiful nun.
Eric couldn't quite figure out how he felt. Between being utterly embarrassed, or so comfortable he wanted to fall asleep right there. Sister Celianne's muscular arms held him steady, warm, soft... but filled with power. He hadn't expected her to be so strong and steady. Her abs and monastic robes gave him a strange sense of security, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from blushing even more.
After spending about a full month in the Lower Hive, at the end of the month, he'd had a terrible experience with women. He'd been searched and fined by the police, and Raoul had forced him to do a job. Encountering a chaos cult, a mutant cult, an alien (a fully formed Geenstealer), nearly being raped by a blue armored monster with tentacles (a Night Lord), and encountering a zombie (a Poxwalker). Eric never imagined the end of this crazy month would be... being carried by a nun, walking slowly and gently like this...
"Ouch... Eric, don't be so excited... You're a nun, remember..." Eric muttered to himself quietly.
Eric felt a slight chill, but the warmth from Celianne's belly and arms masked it so much that I was practically falling asleep. He wasn't sure if the drowsiness was due to the medication. Eric turned to avoid her seeing me blushing like a tomato, and he caught sight of Castra walking beside him.
She was carrying his bag and gun, a large, heavy bag for a child. Water, food, tools, and even extra ammunition. A small child like her wouldn't be able to carry it... but she carried it with the same determined expression.
"Castra... Are you tired? "If you can't handle it, tell me. I'll go," Eric called to Castra. She turned to him immediately before shaking her head rapidly.
"I-I'm not tired! Sister Erica... Uh... Let's rest. I can walk," Caskra said in a slightly weary voice. Her face was completely swollen, but she still managed to smile. I felt both fondness and guilt for having this child carry his luggage for her. But he thought that he had protected her so much throughout the journey in the Lower Hive, and she wanted to repay him, even if it was something as small as carrying her bag.
"Well... Thanks," Eric said, smiling at her. He tried not to look too pale. Castra smiled back. Although her lips were shaking with exhaustion, her eyes visibly brightened.
"Sister Erica... Don't push yourself too hard. If something happens, what will I do?" she said in a gentle, concerned voice.
"You'll be fine soon. You can get out of there now... and you still want to do many things..." Eric said with a soft laugh.
About two or three hours passed.
Celianne continued to hold Eric firmly in her arms, her arms stronger than anyone of her stature should have.
But her touch was soft and cautious, as if she was afraid of further hurting him. This made Eric feel a little embarrassed, even more so. Sister Celianne had carried him for so long, and while she was incredibly strong, she shouldn't have held him for so long. Nor should he feel comfortable being held by her.
On the way, after a long silence, she spoke for the first time.
"What's your name?" Sister Celianne asked, turning to look at Eric. Eric tried to avoid eye contact with her for a moment before gathering the courage to answer.
"Erica de la Cruz," Eric replied, his voice slightly shy. Honestly, he had never been asked his name by a beautiful woman, and this was the first time.
"Can I ask you something?" Celianne's voice was soft, but oddly serious, the tone of someone accustomed to speaking to injured people. Eric turned slightly toward her. Her face was closer than he expected, and when he looked into her gray eyes, she looked so calm that Eric didn't know where to look. I cleared my throat slightly before answering.
"What's wrong, sister?" Eric tried to speak in a calm, even tone, but it was clear he was embarrassed. Celianne took a deep breath before continuing.
"Which district of Hive City are you from? And that rotting blood on your clothes...was it from a clash with someone?" Celianne asked, her tone changing, now calm and direct. Eric immediately answered honestly. She had been carrying him for a long time and even provided first aid, so why couldn't he answer that question?
"Castra and I are in the lower hive, sister. I live in District Z. As for the little girl, I'm not sure which district she lives in because she got separated from her parents and I accidentally met her. That district...has been taken over by mutants. But Castra and I managed to escape and travel to District E, which is full of walking corpses. I returned to Cassana and survived the walking corpses and finally found my way back," Eric explained, his tone equally direct, but he tried to avoid mentioning Raoul. He didn't know why he thought this way or why he acted this way. But in another thought, even if he recounted the whole thing, it wouldn't make much difference. At least Raoul died with his memories. But while explaining, he recalled his memories again.
The image of the armored monster groping him with its tentacles made Eric feel sick and tremble slightly, but he pushed the thought and feeling aside.
"...We both tried to find a way to escape upstairs, but the main elevator was already occupied by heretics and mutants...so we tried another way...and finally found a secret staircase...and we made it up." Eric finished his sentence with what seemed like perfection.
Sister Celianne, hearing Eric's story, paused for a moment, as if evaluating every word he said.
Then she nodded slightly.
"I understand," Sister Celianne said, her tone softening, clearer than before. Not only out of sympathy...but as if she accepted my words without question.
Perhaps Sister knew what he was going through and wasn't so alarmed, but also understood, Eric thought.
Then Sister Celianne held him a little tighter, as if to tell him through her body language that he was now under her care.
(Writer: Eric's imagination)
Eric blushed and tried to look away.
She turned to look at Castra walking beside him.
She was gritting her teeth and panting slightly. When she saw him looking at her, she quickly smiled, but it was a forced and tired smile. Eric asked softly.
"Castra... are you okay? If you're tired, you can tell me."
Eric asked.
"I'm okay! I'm okay. I can walk... Don't worry, Erica!" Castra spoke in a confident voice, but the edge of her sentence trembled slightly. Sister Celianne glanced at the child gently, then turned back to walk without saying anything. I saw the corner of her mouth lift slightly. That smile made Eric feel strangely happy.
Eric let out a slow breath, and before he knew it, a strange warmth and safety welled up in his chest. But now that she had helped him enough, Eric gathered his courage and spoke.
"Sister, I have something to tell you," Eric said in a slightly louder voice. Sister Celianne turned to Eric before asking.
"Is there something you want to say? Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked, counting the soft, concerned words. It made Eric want to get down and walk on his own, not letting her carry him anymore.
"I feel better now...and I should be able to walk on my own." "I don't want you to tire yourself out carrying me. I want to walk by yourself, sister," Eric said in a softer voice, sounding a little considerate. Sister Celianne shook her head slightly before replying:
"I don't think you can walk by yourself right now... What if you do and get hurt? You'll just be a burden to me... If you're worried about me or if you're too tired... don't worry, I'll find a place to stay soon." Sister Celianne said in a soft, gentle voice, her face slightly stern. Eric didn't think she was so intimidating, so he replied immediately.
"Yes, sister," Eric replied in a slightly softer, obedient tone. He didn't want to walk by himself now, if he knew she would be so aggressive.
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Vann's POV
Vann walked at the very back of the small procession of three, his lasgun gripping his knuckles so tightly that his knuckles were white. A sense of paranoia lingered like the smell of burning smoke that had seeped into his armor from every battle he'd had. He tried not to sigh too deeply, but his gaze never left the "woman" Sister Celianne was holding in a princess position in front of him.
The more he looked… the more uneasy he felt.
It wasn't normal at all.
Even after Sister had removed the woman's stinking blood-stained robe, the stench had faded to the point of being almost undetectable. But the unusual feeling… was still there.
"A woman from the lower hive?"
He smirked slightly at the thought, a place no one had seen. A land full of barbarians, manual laborers, gangsters, and all sorts of other things.
But then again, would someone from that class… have the pale, smooth skin of someone untouched by work or dust? And with the graceful features and blue eyes of aristocrats… Plus, her body didn't look malnourished or abnormal. The lower ones, if they weren't dirty and dark, were likely emaciated and malnourished...
But this young woman wasn't. Her body looked fairly strong, even with her injuries. Even beyond the soot and dust, her face was unusually beautiful. Too beautiful.
For someone to claim to have escaped from the underworld, it was strange, but not impossible.
Vann didn't like the inexplicable. It might seem very unorthodox, and unorthodox leads to death.
He frowned even deeper.
And he felt himself dislike it even more when he saw her cheeks flushed and her face resting against Sister Celianne's shoulder.
Not a slump of exhaustion, but a slump of... tenseness, a flush of embarrassment, a swoon of shame.
Vann glanced back, afraid he'd looked the wrong way. But she was still blushing, and she shifted like someone afraid to get too close or too far away at the same time.
The woman from the lower hive...embarrassed by being held by Sister? Could she be a lesbian? Or maybe she was thinking something strange? It all seemed suspicious.
He gritted his teeth, his thoughts swirling in circles.
Yes… That little girl seemed sincere, but some cultists had "kept" children to lure people to their deaths time and time again. He glanced behind him, looking back the way they had come, unsure if anyone was following them.
Every moment of silence made his heart beat loud enough to be heard through his helmet. He tilted his head to look at the two men in front of him again.
Celianne walked calmly, even though she was carrying a gun, a medical bag, and was carrying the woman. Meanwhile, that child… Castra… followed them intently, carrying a bag nearly half his body.
Vann didn't like to think this way, but he couldn't help but wonder:
Had the child been tricked? Had the white-haired woman been bait? Had she been hiding something behind her injuries? He tightened his grip on the gun again, his breath hard, sharp, and utterly wary.
Because beneath that unusually pale beauty,
under the obvious embarrassment of her shoulder,
under the weak utterance of "Erica,"
there was something Vann, a frontline soldier who had seen real battle, could feel in his spine.
Something...wasn't right.
He followed the three with a tense stoicism, not forgetting to look back every now and then, both for fear of mutants or heretics showing up and for... the white-haired woman doing something "unusual" like he always feared seeing.
But he couldn't deny that she was incredibly enviable.
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Writer: Eric now has one more enemy. LOL. Curiosity is the most normal thing in this universe.