Kyros sat in his seat, the roars of the bystanders of the colosseum ringing around him. He was part of the crowd, but was not 'one' of the crowd. His head was downcast, wallowing in the pool of despair lied out in front of him.
"Ho! He's really running for dear life!"
The girl next to him, Arivia, exclaimed, her eyes gazing at the spectacle below.
The thought of his kin enjoying the bloodshed as entertainment further advanced the Goblin's melancholy.
'Freewill.'
That was the word that came to mind multiple times.
'Free.'
His kin had argued that they had been placing restrictions on themselves, effectively halting their ability to be 'free.'
Kyros did not understand. His entire worldview and reason for living had essentially been void. Was he forcing unrealistic standards on the rest of his kin?
Pushing away the fact that they had been 'acting' the entire time, this was more of a fundamental question to ponder.
Was happiness rooted in suffering for others? Was causing harm, facilitating harm amongst each other, was that the freedom they searched for? Casting aside everything?
The goblin could not understand, and further sank deeper into his thoughts, the abyss slowly dragging him downwards.
____________________________________________________________________________
"—Ha! Ha! HA!!" The panting of my voice litters the area as I frantically sprint down the forest path, occasionally hopping over the various objects that decided it would be appropriate to block me.
My body is warming up from the frantic movement, my torso swinging back and forth.
Gosh, I do a lot of running, don't I? Well, in a world full of nightmare creatures that'll do things worse than killing you, running's kind of the only option.
The sound of visceral screaming sends a chill down my spine, snapping me straight back to the reality of the situation, and the equally visceral abomination chasing me.
"We can't run for any longer! It's faster than us!" Arax exclaims, his mandibles moving in succession.
He's right. That thing is a human grafted to a skinless horse. No, that thing on top can't even be a human anymore.
It's like a fucked-up centaur that never made the cut.
He's got a great personality though, really!
It screams once again, the pitch increasing in volume.
"AAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Wait, never mind.
This thing is a horse, meaning it's twice as fast as a regular human and a bug human. Any attempt to outrun it would be downright idiotic. I'm not even sure how I have managed to run this long, which has been a minute, without getting my head lopped off, or worse.
"Lower your head!" Arax yells, and I comply.|
I flinch on my way down, closing my eyes. I can feel the wind shooting over my head and past my ears. Okay, this is the moment.
Right now, there is only one thing to do.
I quickly twist my body around, taking advantage of the attacker's momentum, and run the other way.
I know horses can make sharp turns, incredibly sharp, actually. But what I did not expect was the rider to dig one of its clawed arms into the ground, allowing the body to loop around in my direction, not sacrificing any momentum.
Alright, Skinny here is not as dumb as he lets on. Or they?
"Distract it for a few more seconds! I can feel my arcana reserves activating!"
That's right, 25 minutes have passed. Tyrox stated that after thirty minutes, everyone would have their abilities returned.I nod, while internally panicking. I leap over a fallen branch.
The pressure right now is unreal.
Okay, I need to analyze my surroundings, I need to think, and use whatever's around me.
As I run, I observe the area around me. Abandoned houses. Broken ruins. A well. Fallen trees. Wood. Stone. Could I trip it into the well? No, it's too big to fit inside.
I make a sharp turn and practically leap into a broken house, scrambling past shattered furniture. My foot slams into the leg of a table, and I almost end up tripping.
Finally, I desperately make my way into what seems like a kitchen, judging by the array of cupboards and a furnace, left with burn marks from an era long past.
The Nuck, that's what I'm calling it, is skinless, or basically a giant walking open wound.
As inappropriate as it is in this situation, my head recalls a time at the beach. I actually had accidentally cut my finger open while playing with a pail, resulting in a small portion of skin being rubbed off. And of course, blood started running down.
Fearing getting in trouble, I, of course, tried to hide the wound by running down to the sea, to wash off some of the blood, and hopefully avoid a confrontation with my parents.
So I hauled my little stupid self onto the sea, trying not to cry, and dipped my little finger into the ocean.
—And proceeded to let out a scream that would give jets a run for their money. I was also banned from going to the beach ever again.
Point is-
The sound of rumbling erupts from the living room, interrupting my thoughts like a ball crashing through glass.
I begin frantically flinging open cabinets, adrenaline starting to pump into my nerves. It's trying to fit inside the house, desperately attempting to get access into the kitchen, which is connected by a thin hallway of sorts.
The sound of clawing erupts as the screaming intensifies.
"AAAAAAAAAIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!"
My hands push away containers, slamming open cupboards.
Shit! Shit!
DODGE NOW
I turn around, just in time to notice a clawed arm raising above me, prepared to cleave me in two. I grit my teeth as my eyes shoot open in surprise.
" —kh!!"
I'm leaning on the counter, so I roll to the left, dodging the attack.
Currently, the horse itself is halfway in the living room, and the rider is halfway into the kitchen. The issue here is that the arms on the rider are so long that they allow it to basically reach into the kitchen, attempting to grab at me like some kind of a mouse in a hole. In its efforts, it's practically desecrating the already worn-down kitchen.
It can't see me, since its head can't reach the hallway, but I'm not sure it's any better at this point.
I grab a pan-like ceramic object and hurl it at the hand to no avail. It only bounces off onto the ground, shattering into pieces.
Okay, the creature is skinless, so obviously—well, not obviously, but salt is hopefully going to do some damage to it. That's why I'm in the kitchen, where you can usually find salt, regardless of the time period or even world.
A lone object in the corner catches my attention.
I quickly turn around to see the claw now aiming to cleave me in half, horizontally this time.
I grunt as my body leaps towards the ceramic object. This thing better be salt!
As I soar, my hand just barely manages to grab the container, and I land onto the ground, holding the item close to my body.
"Gh!"
I quickly gaze at the object and notice a white, flaky-looking dust slightly spilling out into my shirt. I have no time to taste or make sure of its existence, given that the arm is now aiming towards my body, which is on the ground.
I grit my teeth, grabbing a handful of salt and hurling it in the general direction of the arm. The salt soars through the air, actually glinting for a moment before spreading itself on the creature's arm.
For a moment, the arm suspends mid-air.
Then, a scream erupts once again as it flails around. A black spot erupts from the arm, opening like a wound.
A weakspot? This wasn't there before.
"AAAAAAAAAIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!"
So it did do something.
I scramble to my feet, gripping the container tightly. It is ceramic, with a clay-like texture that feels almost glassy against my fingers.
Alright, I need to get the rest of this salt on somewhere more prominent, probably its main body, or the 'horse'. The main issue, however, is that it's simply too fast. It's big, but fast.
Damn it.
The arm retracts away from the kitchen, pulling back into the living room, and from what I hear, leaving the house entirely. The only thing that remains now are the specks of dust floating around from the attack, a sign of recompensation.
I hesitantly step outside the kitchen, poking my head out for any sign of danger. I'm alone. Speaking of alone, where is Arax? I'm not assuming him to do anything of any substance, given the severity, but he could have at least done something.
No, I can't expect him to do something that substantial; his ability is still being nullified.
My feet slowly crunch on destroyed glass in the living room, stepping over destroyed furniture, a level above the destruction it was before. My head scans the room slowly, like a lighthouse for any signs of danger.
Before, the signs of damage to this area were the shackles of time and rot, slowly disassembling this place and the memories that previously clung to it.
Now it has been destroyed by something violent and immediate.
It's sad to think about.
I finally make it to the entrance, still utilizing my ability to scout for any kind of indicator of danger. I guess I'm also looking for any signs of Arax.
One foot steps outside onto the dirt, the wind my only indicator of any kind of movement. Now I just realize, I'm frantically panting like a dog, and I'm covered in scratches and dirt.
I won't die here, but the thought of death slowly worms its way into my brain. A realization starts to set in as well.
I haven't set a checkpoint in a while. Actually, I completely forgot where I set it previously. If I were to die and use DD, would I have to retract all my steps to this point?
The thought gnaws at me.
I can't die.
Alright, I can't settle on death as a possibility anyway. The key here is to live as if I'll die once and forever. Contemplating such a negative outcome is bad enough. I clench my fist.
I won't die here, never again!
Something hard touches my foot.
"—-?!"
Everything flips upside down.
'Something' grabs my right leg quickly with such force that it wouldn't be surprising if it broke, or even tore off. I'm lifted off the ground upside down, grunting at the sudden pain. My world flips instantly, blood rushing to my head like an hourglass turned over.
I'm suddenly made face-to-face with a creature that is close enough to be 'human' yet crosses into uncanny valley territory. Within my cursed sense of vision lies a skinned face, the bottom half of the jaw grotesquely overgrown. Its eyes are still intact, boring into my form.
Its mouth suddenly opens.
It then lets out an ear-piercing scream.
The Nuckalevee, of course.
"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!"
The sound of a microphone's feedback invades my head.
I attempt to cover my ears, but the damage has already been done. My brain feels as if it is bouncing around in my head. My ears feel as if a blood vessel has been popped inside. The cold feeling of liquid begins steadily making its way outside my ear.
Dizziness strikes me like a hammer, and my eyes can't focus on the creature in front of me. If i didn't cover my ears, I'm not sure if I would have survived.
My eyes slowly adjust to the creature's face.'
Its head convulses like a physics bug in a video game, flickering left and right as it lets out groaning noises. One of its eyes begins to pop free, sliding down to its chin, connected only by a loose optic nerve now fully exposed.
The other eye faces the opposite direction, the red flesh visible.
What I'm looking at is something that shouldn't exist, an abomination that feels like only the peak of an iceberg of nightmarish monsters.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't still afraid.
But wait, this black spot oozing goo in its left arm… is this the result of me using the salt?
As my mind finishes on the word salt, my gaze snaps to the container in my left hand, now spilling flaky grains onto the ground.
"No! No! No!"
I reach out my left hand, managing to capture some of it onto my hand. The issue is I can't throw it from my position.
I'm upside down. Any attempt to throw it will only send the salt the opposite way. Not only that, I'm too far from its body to do any real damage, and I'm not about to waste the last of it on the arm holding me. If I use it now, yes, I'll be released, but I won't have any way to defend myself.
I don't know where Arax is. I'm pretty much alone at this point, and I'm too tired to run any longer.
My right fist stays clenched.
The mouth of the 'rider' arches backward as it opens wider, its maw fully coming into view. A snap rings out as it increases the distance between its maxilla and mandible, further displaying its teeth. They're disturbingly human. White, almost pristine.
AA smell akin to flowers fills my nostrils, a scent that deceptively contradicts the source it comes from. A smell of life emanates from a creature of death.
Another snap rings out as it pushes past the boundaries of its body.
I'm dead! I'm really going to die! I'm going to have to redo all of this crap! I can't!
It slowly begins pulling me towards its maw, prepared to take a chunk out of my abdomen. It's a slow movement, instilling even more fear and adrenaline rather than quickly killing its prey.
My fist clenches even tighter. I can feel my nails digging into my skin. As soon as I get near its mouth, I'll–
"Glacies-11, Perforate."
"KHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTMMMMM!!"
The sound of metal grinding against metal rings through the air for a split second before exploding outward.
The creature lets out a sharp yelp, its grip tightening as it shakes me violently.
"Glacies-11, Perforate"
"PWWF!!"
Another 'gunshot' rings out through the air, and immediately after, blood explodes from the left of the Nuck's face, splashing some onto my face.
It's getting attacked, yet it is desperately clinging onto my leg as if I'm a meal too tasty to give up easily. I dangle left and right, with no control over my body. I am at the mercy of this thing's grip.
"G11, Perforate"
The chant has shortened.
"PWWF!"
The 'gunshot' rings out through the air once again. This time, the creature's forearm explodes in blood, releasing its vice-like grip onto me.
I slam into the ground on my back, dirt exploding around me. There was no way to brace myself.
"Kh.." I groan as I quickly get to my feet. I'm exhausted at this point now.
My right leg feels as if it's on fire, and my fist is starting to become fatigued from clenching it for so long.
There's blood running down the sides of my ears, and a good portion of my face is covered in that thing's blood.
Not to mention the amount of scratches on my body, given that the only clothes I'm wearing are a half-rag, only covering half of my body.
The only thing I can smell is iron.
I wipe my ears with my free hand before wiping my face in succession with the rags outfitted on me. My breaths are as heavy as an anvil pressed against my chest.
Still dizzy, I snap my attention back to the Nuckalevee, whose focus has shifted to a new threat to its existence.
In front of the monster lies the familiar yellow insectoid, Arax, gripping his right forearm. And on his forearm lies a strange-looking, blue, arrow-shaped tool poking out of the top. He's an insectoid, so it'd be more appropriate to say it was poking out the little section in between his arm and forearm, which most insects have. One must remember that he contains an exoskeleton, so the arrow was actually underneath the carapace that covered the topper portion of his arm.
The same arm is in a state of pronation and completely straight, aiming at the creature. His left arm, however, holds its hand completely flat, aimed towards the mushy intersection between his right forearm and arm that was previously mentioned.
His left hand shoots towards the midsection, jamming itself inside for a split moment, before removing it.
"G11, Pereforate!"
The arrow shoots out faster than most guns I've seen, quickly making contact with its target, who staggers backwards. Strangely enough, the fountain of blood that erupts does not disperse; instead lingering for a longer period of time.
The Nuckelvee charges at Arax, who swiftly dodges in my direction, leaping over the attack. He lands on the ground, rolling into a swift crouch before jamming his hand into his right forearm.
"G-11, pereforate!"
It fires again at the horse's neck, which had been in the process of relocating its body position towards it's opponent.
The horse drops instantly, killed by the strike, akin to a puppet having its strings cut.
Great shot! It should be dead by now!
"We got it." I gasp.
The man shakes his head, his hand still aimed at the creature.
"While these creatures typically possess two minds, one inside the 'rider' and 'horse, if one dies—"
The rider suddenly grabs the head of the horse, a sickening crunch ringing out, the grotesque sound of flesh mushing together complementing the sound. A scream erupts as muscle tissue and bone fragments fly into the air, any semblance of uniformity gone.
The top half of the horse's skull is crushed, leaving only the lower jaw intact. Cerebrospinal fluid and gray matter spill out, mixing into a grotesque pink slurry that pours from what remains of its head.
___________________________________________________________________________
A roar erupts from the stadium in succession to the events occurring inside. Sable Veil was one of the audience members. At this point, they could not do more than watch their enemy, Tyrox, who stood across them, in a minaret of sorts. It was clearly a room for the 'leader' to enjoy watching his subjects tear each other apart.
At this point, the Nuckelavee had crushed the top half of its skull. It was no longer a "they", now an "it".
"Uwah! That's so nasty!!" Arivia exclaims, leaning over her seat. The goblin in front of her turns its head for a moment, seemingly annoyed by the girl, only to return to watching. "What's it even doing?"
The girl turns to Asakawa, who had been leaning back in her seat. She was to Arivia's left, her arms crossed.
"When one portion of a Nuckelavee suffers a loss in one of the two organisms that compose it, the remaining one will take control, having complete jurisdiction over its movements," she informs, her tone almost dead.
"In that creature, there is always a lack of complete control," Kors begins. "This lack of coordination between the two is often the saving grace for those attempting to escape. But now…"
A silent beat passes.
"You hear that, Navi?" Arivia leans to her right, elbowing the silver-haired girl. "Mr. Slave's going to end up looking like a wrung-out towel." She grins.
Navi's eyes slowly travel toward Arivia, empty, before moving back down to the stadium. A clear message is relayed; she did not care.
Arivia raises an eyebrow for a moment, the demeanour confusing her.
'She's back to being herself again….To be honest, it was too good to last. That guy did some real magic, for sure.'
Arivia sighs before returning her attention to the display below.
Perhaps she was only teasing her friend to see that persona emerge again. That same persona that had manifested itself ever since the arrival of that boy.
Navi was always quiet, similar to Asa. The difference was that Navi actively avoided talking altogether. There was a sense of alienation always clinging to her whenever she entered a room.
Arivia still recalled the day the girl had entered the team, and the words she spoke to her for the first time.
"Don't present yourself as someone you're not."
She had only attempted to be friendly, to welcome Navi into the environment. Instead, she had received a cold slap in the form of words. To say it had affected her was an understatement.
After that day, she did not speak to Navi for about four months.
After that time had passed, Arivia had believed the two could make up and forge a tight kinship.
She couldn't have been farther from the truth. There was only a professional relationship akin to a workplace. They had become mere acquaintances, nothing more, nothing less.
Arivia would make friendly comments every now and then, but they never truly landed, only resulting in Navi responding bluntly.
But when that boy seemingly dropped out of nowhere, something changed. From then on, a small light seemed to turn on in Navi's personality. She spoke more.
What she said was not particularly positive, but she was more expressive.
But…
It was never directed toward Arivia.
Yes.
None of it.
Despite approaching Navi multiple times after her sudden change, Arivia never received anything resembling warmth.
What did he have that she didn't? He wasn't particularly friendly, only submissive. Arivia was always friendly toward her subordinates and never assumed a different persona that could be potentially unlikable to others.
She could admit she was jealous of Kaito and wanted him to disappear, and that would be the truth. But in another sense, she wanted him around, just to spark that thing he brought out in Navi once more.
Still, the possibility that he had done something to Navi was not ruled out. If he were to live past this altercation, she would firmly force him to apologize to Navi Highergald.
Why did she care so much?
"Please don't die again, Navi."
_________________________________________________________________
Kors observes as the strange Entomion jams his finger into his arm, firing another Glacies projectile at the Nuckelavee.
"It's interesting, isn't it?" Asakawa comments. "Entomos tend to perform better when it comes to casting spells, especially as Thaumites."
Kors nods.
"It is because they lack the same nervous system most other Sapients possess. Pain does not come as easily to them, allowing them to cast spells at a quicker pace."
Kors points at the Entomion.
"He is utilizing the underside of his upper arm's carapace to store multiple Glacies arrows beneath it. This is only possible due to the fog mist he is storing underneath."
Typically, to utilize Glacies spells, water must be present. The aspect of Glacies could not be utilized by those who used Koho, only Thauma. When it came to Thauma spells, the inherent quality of equivalent exchange was lowered, but the presence of the manipulated element was still required.
A simpler way to understand it was this. Koho created, while Thauma manipulated.
"And because of his lack of pain, he is continually piercing himself, resulting in his arm becoming a pseudo firearm of sorts."
"Though…"
____________________________________________________________________________
"It isn't doing anything anymore!" I gasp.
This is the twentieth shot, and still no lasting damage. Ever since the rider crushed the horse's head, it feels like the thing has become invulnerable.
No. It does take damage. It just shrugs it off moments later like it's nothing.
My eyes snap to Arax. His shoulders rise and fall as he stays crouched, breathing hard. He is clearly getting tired from the constant attacks. The Nuck, on the other hand, does not look tired at all.
If anything, it looks more energetic with each passing second.
Speaking of seconds, how much time do we have left?
I glance at the back of my hand. The strange mark implanted earlier has grown to nearly twice its original size. When we started, it was no bigger than a marble.
Now it is the size of a golf ball, almost swallowing the back of my hand entirely. A black stain, with thin tendrils spilling outward like veins.
Yeah, this is definitely a curse as Tyrox said.
We probably have ten minutes left, judging by its growth. If the pattern means anything, once it covers my entire hand, time is up.
I clench my fist.
Please let this thing be a hider. Otherwise, we're dead.
I glance at my right hand. Salt still coats my palm. Not much, but enough. My eyes track the ice arrows flying toward the creature, each one striking cleanly.
I can't coat an ice arrow with salt directly. It would melt before it ever reaches the target. The speed alone would accelerate the process.
My mind travels to when I threw salt at it for the first time. Black patches seemingly opened around the area of damage. Where are those weakpoints?
An idea pops into my head.
It's vague and risky.
But maybe that's exactly what I need.
I cup my hands around my mouth.
"Arax. Get over here!"
The insectoid nods, narrowly dodging a strike before leaping toward me.
"Follow me!" I shout, already turning toward a nearby large building. It is only a few steps away. We rush inside, bursting through the door. The room we enter is already destroyed, given its age. This doesn't actually seem to be a house, but more along the lines of a school.
The footsteps behind us say everything. It's following us to a tee.
They suddenly slow down, rumblings taking their place. Crumbling erupts from the walls. The creature is forcing its way in, its size barely fitting through the structure.
Then it happens.
Pale, skinless flesh tears through the doorway as the Nuckelavee forces itself inside, letting out a horrific scream that echoes through the school.
"Glacies Eleven. Perforate!"
"PWWF!!"
The shard fires upward, slamming into the roof directly above the creature. Ice cannot drill through stone, so it shatters on impact. But this time, the fragments sparkle, unnaturally reflective.
The creature notices.
As the shards rain down, they brush against its skin.
It screams.
Black spots bloom across its body where the salt touches, eating into its flesh. Most of the damage spreads across its shoulders and the upper half of the horse body.
It quickly spins towards its nearest victim, me.
Pure rage clearly floods its movements, wild and erratic. It extends an arm towards me, ready to seize me into it's grip. I try to leap away, but it is too fast. Its claws sink into my waist, lifting me off the ground with brutal force.
I struggle, but its grip tightens, its claws digging into my skin. It snaps open its jaw in succession, seemingly learning from its past mistake of taking its time to kill its prey.
A smirk crosses my face as it yanks me closer, my left arm lining up with its mouth.
"Here's some seasoning!"
I raise an ice arrow in my right hand, its surface coated in salt.
The creature notices.
It shifts targets instantly, clamping down on my attacking arm instead, trying to eliminate the threat. It has successfully trapped my arm in a suspended motion within the confines of its mouth.
An electric jolt of pain shoots through my body as the creatures omnviorous teeth, akin to a human's, draws blood. I can see its teeth tearing into my skin and flesh, some sinew visible.
"—Hngh!!"
I cannot pull free.
I can only push.
Its bite is powerful, but it is tearing rather than crushing… If I push forward, I can still…
If I…
Its grip tightens.
"HGGGGH!!"
IF I PUSH MY ARM FORWARD I CAN MOVE.
My grip does not lessen on the arrow, but I can feel its surface melting due to the salt on its tip, and the general heat emanating from the creature's body. It lets out a shudder.
The water from the ice is still melting, which has salt in it, so it's still painful to the creature, given that it's going inside its body.
This is not what I planned, but I have no choice.
I shove my arm forward.
Skin peels back as its teeth anchor in place. The pain is indescribable. The only thing keeping me conscious is adrenaline flooding my nerves.
We're both in immeasurable pain here, each one trying to overpower the other ina desperate attempt to win. It's trying to keep my arm stabilized so I don't stab the back of its throat, and I'm trying to keep my arm intact.
"HRAAAAAAAAAAAGHH!!"
Blood paints my arm a sick red.
My grip weakens.
No. No. NO.
I will kill this thing.
My vision whites out as agony consumes me. I feel every inch of skin tearing free from muscle.
My grip tightens.
"GHHHHHRAAAAAAGHH!!"
Then, for a split second, my arm slips free from its bite. I've pushed to the point that it is no longer being held down.
It surges forward like a bullet.
I feel the arrow stop.
The creature screams, piercing and inhuman, releasing me as black mass erupts around its head, exposing its weak point.
"Arax! Now!" I scream as I crash to the floor.
"Glacies Eleven. Perforate!"
The projectile slams into the back of its head. Blood bursts outward as it drills deep before exploding into ice shards.
Throughout the entire process, the creature stands motionless.
The air itself seems to hold its breath as we remain frozen, gasping, waiting for it to fall. The world has died for a moment. The victor of this fight will be decided in this moment.
…..
….
…
..
.
The Nuckelavee, rider of the night, collapses to the ground. No longer moving. No longer alive. What remains is nothing more than an object.
I force myself upright, relying only on my left arm. My right hangs uselessly at my side, skin loose and torn, blood still pouring down it. But my mind is already elsewhere.
I run toward the corpse.
"Quick! Look for a hider's mark! We've only got a few minutes left!"
I grab the creature's forearm, straining as I lift it, rotating the joint and scanning every inch for a mark. Nothing. I drop it and move to the other arm, repeating the process, my hands frantic.
Nothing.
I let out a strained grunt as I release it.
"Arax, help me out here!"
I circle the body, checking its legs, its joints, anywhere a mark could be hidden. If we do not find it, we are dead. No, this thing has to be a hider. Why else would it be down here?
"Oii!!" a voice calls from outside the school.
I snap my head toward the nearest window. Two figures step into view. Wall and Stiyl. In Wall's hand is a black severed arm, bearing the same insignia the goblin had.
They found one.
I look back at the Nuckelavee's corpse.
"That thing isn't a hider. I checked its entire body."
I turn to Arax. He is standing completely still.
"Arax, let me see your arm real quick. I don't doubt you or anything, but just let me check."
Desperation is driving me now. We have to find all the hiders or we are done. There are three in total. One was in the starting area. One is in Wall's hand. The last one has to be here.
Five minutes left.
"Here you go," Arax says, lifting his right forearm toward me.
There is nothing there. Just the hard carapace of his armor.
Relief washes over me, but it does not last.
"Ah, wait a moment."
He lifts the carapace.
Underneath.
Underneath.
Yes. Underneath.
An insignia.
My eyes widen, my stomach dropping so hard it feels like it tears through me. No. No, it cannot be him. He has to be joking. This has to be some kind of sick joke.
He attacked Tyrox. He hates him. He despises him. There is no way it is him. He.. He killed his wife, right?
"It can't be…"
My voice breaks. I'm tired. I can't deal with this anymore.
"It can't…"
My gaze slowly lifts to Arax's face. My breathing is erratic. I cannot catch my breath.
I am staring down the shaft of an ice arrow, its tip aimed directly between my eyes.
"What… who…"
"JUST WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, ARAX?!"