"Did that happen?" Pierce murmured, an expression of doubt and distrust on his face.
"Yes! That thing... That thing tortured Elisa right in front of me!"
Pierce saw the lost one in front of him almost reaching a collapse, only a thin and fragile thread still kept him sane.
"But Ingrid is still alive! We have to go now!" tears rolled down the awakened's cheeks.
Pierce stayed quiet. Then, he raised an eyebrow in disbelief and said:
"Why did he allow you to escape? And how do you guarantee that Ingrid is still alive?" the doubt came out with a sharp blade, cutting Luka's impulse with precision.
"The monster must have already killed her, do not worry about that anymore." Pierce lightly patted the young man's shoulder, trying to comfort him.
"No... But I'm sure she is still alive... If we go now we can rescue her and still kill that bastard!" Luka pushed the hand away decisively, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
"I will not repeat myself, and if you keep insisting, I will assume that you are a possessed one." Pierce's authoritarian tone left no room for argument, ending the discussion right there.
"Ah... No..." Luka pronounced with difficulty, his world collapsing.
Pierce could only watch the expression of the lost one shatter, despair sprouting from the depths of his pupils.
'I ask forgiveness, I would also like to rescue her... But the risk is too high.'
Unfortunately, that was the truth.
Pierce and Welthe could no longer take risks without concern, a little more than thirty awakened remained, and it would only get worse and worse.
They could dispatch some to protect the cells where the prisoners were, but only that.
If they gambled with the lives of more lost ones, eventually they would run out. And just as the awakened depended on the masters, they also depended on them.
If one of the two sides were completely exterminated, the other would fall soon after to the prince of war.
Pierce could be certain of that, after all, he had already seen masters more experienced than him fall under the demon's blade.
He was not foolish enough to underestimate his enemy.
After asking two awakened to take Luka to a separate area, checking if he was not a vessel of the prince, he headed to a meeting with Welthe in the hall.
There were many things to resolve.
They had to check how many resources remained, calculate daily costs, discuss the patrols...
And about Saint Cormac.
They were waiting for the saint, because they could not deal with the prince. Welthe did not like the idea at first, but after so many deaths, she admitted they could not handle the threat.
The saint was their only hope, because in a battle of attrition, Mordret had a clear advantage. And unless they managed to make the connection, effectively imprisoning the prince, they would have to wait until he returned.
Upon arriving, he found Welthe sitting in a dark wooden chair. Her eyes trembled, as if searching for something unreachable.
She noticed his presence, letting out a poorly contained sigh of relief.
"Hello Pierce, where have you been?" her fingers tapped the table nonstop, her shoulders curved with exhaustion.
"A member of the Rabbit's Foot group came back. Apparently, the prince caught them and tortured one of their companions." Pierce commented without thinking much, dragging a chair to sit in front of Welthe.
"I see... You kept him under observation, right?"
Pierce snorted in response:
"But of course, I'm not a fool. Besides, our morale is low, we must minimize this incident as much as possible..."
There was a small pause, a deafening silence covering the senses of both.
"I think that day when he tried to invade the cage there was another reason." The austere face looked more worn than ever.
"There's a chance his objective was not even to capture the prisoners. It's more likely he was only shaking the general confidence, and..."
"Pretending he did not know how to act, wanting us to believe he was learning to behave like a human." Welthe completed, the lips once scarlet red now dry and faded.
The sound of nothing stretched on, until Welthe broke it:
"And about the prisoners? Are we just going to leave them there?" Welthe stared at him, while scratching her forearm, her teeth clenching tightly.
"It's what we have left to do. Sending more awakened, or even one of the two of us is far too dangerous. Let that beast consume them, they would die anyway."
"Right..." Welthe nodded, smoothing her hair with her hands meanwhile.
The tension left by the conversation lingered in the air, and neither of them spoke another word until the end, when Pierce left the hall.
'We— no, I will not die in this place, right? I am an ascended! I survived the second nightmare successfully! This should not be anything too serious...'
'Is it?' her mind was beginning to play tricks on her as well.
"..." her hand slammed down hard on the table, making dust fall and the wood creak.
"You are thinking too much, Welthe..." the woman murmured to herself, massaging her temples.
But deep down, she knew she was not.
———
In a strange scene, a young man with orange hair and skin white as snow, gathered with several... People? In any case, they were preparing a large barrel of soup.
The smell of meat mixed with vegetables was at the same time comforting and unnatural.
A bonfire warmed it, making the soup bubble, the heat reducing the freezing winter air.
"Can you pass me the onion?" Mordret asked politely to the young man beside him, who had torn clothes and an exposed chest marked by an ugly scar.
The young man nodded his head before extending his hand and handing over an onion.
"Thank you..." the wooden spoon stirred the soup, not letting it burn.
Mordret scooped a little with the spoon and brought it close to his mouth, tasting it with a cheerful expression.
"Oh... Who would have thought my cooking skills would remain? Lucky me!" he hissed with an easy smile on his face.
Something poked his shoulder, calling his attention.
"Uh... What is it?"
The owner of the hand was a young blonde woman.
Her cold face seemed even emptier than usual.
"You never change, Ingrid. Always wanting what is not yours." Mordret shook his head in visible disappointment.
"But what can I do? Should I satisfy the desires of a corpse? Hehehe..." laughing at the irony of the situation, Mordret continued stirring the wooden spoon, while the people around him kept moving in silence.
This vessel he now possessed was a lost one with dangerous power, capable of raising corpses and making them fight for him.
It was a great find, considering the last vessels he had taken.
Mordret breathed deeply, feeling the smell of food make his body relax.
Now everyone was together.
Each one of his friends gathered.
Toshi was in a corner cleaning the rubble. Olly accompanied him.
Lion, with his head stitched to his neck, helped Kithy and Mia carry supplies. Tomi and Holi prepared some synthetic pastes.
Hozoin trained with a sword, swinging it nonstop, but the air never entered his lungs.
Elisa, Ingrid and Mateo were inseparable, walking together through the corridors, collecting shards of glass.
Unfortunately Benlan's body was too torn apart to accompany them.
Besides that, many others walked through the great hall, doing their respective tasks.
It would be a beautiful scene.
If it were not for the fact that none of them breathed.
And for the dried blood staining their pale bodies.
Mordret whistled, leaving the spoon with one of the dead. He stretched, while speaking quietly:
"I think it is receptive enough..."
His spine cracked with an abnormal sound, but Mordret did not mind.
"Now we can go get them."
Corpses surrounded him as they walked through the dark corridors, marching toward the prison.