—A few moments before.
"Shit…"
As the darkness of the night enveloped the forest, I held the flashlight stolen from the beastmen tight. I felt it creak from how hard I was squeezing it to help me endure the pain.
A cracked rib was not something foreign to me. However, dealing with the pain outright without something to numb it was. Every step felt like a sharp knife wanting to protrude from my body. I wanted to howl at the moon with pain, but now was not the time.
I had been wandering around the forest, trying to make my way to the ruins, but as I stepped into the woods, several pairs of eyes were watching me. They weren't from a beast; that much I could tell without actually laying eyes on them. Each set felt cold and lifeless, yet one pair watched curiously.
I hope I was just being paranoid. Just the ghosts of those I've killed lingering around to torment me. But all that was ruined by a simple sound.
*Creek!*
A branch?
Some leaves?
Something was crushed beneath the weight of something heavy. I killed my light and quickly turned towards the sound, gripping my weapon tightly. The pain I felt in my chest would have to wait.
Somebody was there, that I was sure of. I wanted to rush forward, to swing my blade with a surge of power, to spill their crimson juices all over the ground.
"No…" I muttered as I shook my head.
I needed to regain my composure. Those thoughts…I refuse to become like Al. I lasted this long without losing myself to the madness, but the people of this world took everything from us. They should have just left us alone.
It's their fault.
What I did was justified.
"Stop it…" I shook my head once more.
We were the aggressors. That was the truth they had hidden behind lock and key. But why? Those were the answers I sought, yet these past few days I have spent doing nothing but playing house.
I was given a chance. My broken body was mended by means I have no idea how to explain to other humans. Yet so far, I have spent my time being toyed with by an old man and beaten to a pulp by a cute girl.
A wind blew, along with a voice. "You seem to have forgotten something."
I felt a chill run down my spine. The wind blew around with an unnatural kick. It spun around, kicking up fallen leaves and branches, making them dance under the light of the twin moons.
Then the wind stopped. Just suddenly, without warning. All that was picked up was dropped onto the ground.
However, that was not the end. The leaves, the branches, they were positioned on the ground forming an arrow.
"Is something guiding me?" I said, gripping my double-bladed saber in a way that I was ready to strike at a moment's notice.
I took slow, careful steps. I scanned the area—left, right, up, down. There was nothing, yet I could still feel those eyes watching.
"So the demon appears before me."
As I ventured deeper into the forest, a voice called out. It was smooth and calm. I stood still, holding my weapon tight with one hand as I turned on my flashlight.
"Oh, that's quite the light you've got there." A man said. Before me was a figure dressed in a black robe that could have blended perfectly in the darkness had I not shone a light on him. The figure opened his arms with a welcoming gesture as he smiled. Or at least I thought he did, as the robe that covered his body also covered his face. "Fellow brother of blood, to whom do I owe this honor?"
The man paused for a moment, then let out an "ah, how rude of me" as he lowered the hood covering his face. Silver hair and dark skin. Long pointed ears and purple eyes. He was an elf. From the books I have read up on, he seemed to be a dark elf.
God Stamps covered his ears, so vividly that I could see faint green glows emanating from the markings themselves.
"A noble elf," I muttered. His eyes widened with joy.
"Ah, so you can speak our language too; that makes things a lot easier."
What? If you thought I was a demon, how could you think I could not speak your language? That was what I wanted to ask, but something deep down told me that asking that would prove fatal.
"But," he continued, "noble is such an outdated term for those blessed with power. It is simply just a term the rich elves cling to as a means to prove that they are better than the common folk. But they aren't. After all, a noble can easily die from a loose arrow in the night's darkness."
His eyes sparkled upon those words, leaving his lips. His long, pointed ears bounced up a little as he leaned forward.
"So again, to whom do I owe the honor of meeting a brother bathed in blood?"
Bathed in blood?
Oh, that's right. I had gone blind to the smell of blood that I had almost forgotten that beastman's blood stained my face. But as I realized that, I took a moment to look at the dark elf before me. His robe, his hair, his skin—they all bore faint stains of dried blood.
"What are you referring to?" I asked, lowering my stance. I dropped the flashlight onto the ground so that I could hold my weapon with both hands.
The man hastily shook his hands as a wry smile lined his lips. "Hey now, I really don't care for violence at my own hands. So let us talk it out like normal intelligent beings, 'kay?" He then lowered his hands and looked up at the sky. "The blood stains you. The crimson juices from the deities above bless your skin on this beautiful night." He lowered his head and stared at me. His purple eyes narrowed not at me, but at my weapon. "So, might I ask you who you have robbed of breath?"
The dark elf's eyes were like his—hollow yet shimmering at the thought of death. I could tell that this elf could not think of anything besides murder. Like Al, he was insane. That was all the reason I needed to feel my blood boil. Looking at him reminded me of Al. The bastard who tried to kill me for trying to save ourselves from bearing the sin of killing the undeserving.
"It was self-defense," I said in a low tone.
The dark elf looked at me with a slight tilt of his head. His gaze never changed. "I was not asking for the justification of such an artistic outlet. Whether you kill for pleasure or survival, our deity, Aerivorne, welcomes it all the same. After all, change is needed in this world governed by the rules of the old. That is why we welcomed them to our world."
Just what kind of freak was this dark elf? As he spoke, his eyes widened, and a look of pleasure painted itself onto his face as if he was enjoying the thought of senseless murder. But only that, he said, they welcomed them to our world. Was that them referring to us humans? If so, just who is playing whom in this war?
This dark elf was bad news for me and others in the area. Anyone insane enough to speak such things with a face such as that could not be trusted not to turn an entire room of people into a rotting mound within mere seconds.
I wanted to cut him down. That way, I could save myself the headache of trying to figure out his motives.
"Ah ha!" The dark elf let out a shout as his purple eyes locked onto me almost intimately. "Those eyes! The eyes of the beast waiting to be freed from his cage. The true bloodthirsty monster banished from this world, resulting in years of boredom."
The time for talk was now over. It was clear to me now—no, from the very start—that trying to understand this dark elf was a waste of time. He spoke words and terms that held no bearing to me, or so I thought, but now was not the time to relish in the moment that slipped through my fingers.
The truth—a fragment I was searching for—cut down in an instant.
"Ah!"
In an almost unsurprising way, the dark elf let out a dying noise as his upper body slid off his lower half. I moved without thinking. I could not let the battle I had against the beastman repeat itself. While that man was not a noble, this dark elf was. I stood no chance against one without my armor, or so I thought.
It was like he said, '…a noble can easily die from a loose arrow in the night's darkness.'
No matter how strong one's magic might be, a simple weapon can still rob someone of their life in an instant.
His blood pooled around my feet. Yet I still felt his eyes.
"My…My…My…"
I flinched. His voice called out from the shadows. How? I turned to look at the corpse in front of me. Sure enough, the body was dead. There were no signs of life left. So how? How can I still hear his voice? I turned to meet another figure. The figure pulled off his hood, revealing the same face that I had just cut down. His purple eyes quivered as he hugged himself with a look of ecstasy.
"How…" The words trickled out of my lips. Was this a dream? How could there be two of the same person? I gripped my weapon tightly and charged once again at the figure.
This time, I was in control. No unconscious movements. I wanted this man dead. I thrust my blade through his chest. It felt as if I were cutting through a thick steak with a sharpened knife. I pulled the blade out and spun, slicing his head off with the opposite end of my weapon. Bloodshot out from his chest and neck until he fell lifelessly onto the ground.
"So that's what happens when you repress murderous intent for so long. How intriguing."
There it was again. The voice of the man I swore I had just killed.
Was I going crazy?
I turned around again, and sure enough, there was a figure that lowered its hood. A sick and twisted smile was painted on his face. He opened his arms as if calling me towards him.
"How does it feel? To be the painter of this masterful display of true art. The blood and viscera were thrown all over! The bones and the pure looks of enjoyment on the fallen bodies! You are a master of your craft, yet you keep it sealed deep within your own ego."
"Shut up!" I lunged forward once again. With pain throbbing in my chest, I pushed off the ground too hard. I spun, keeping my weapon parallel to the ground, and tore through him effortlessly.
[ZZZRT—]
"You spent the past weeks hiding."
As static from my ear implant filled my head, the dark elf's voice called out once again. I found him standing at one of the corpses, staring at it intensely. I never gave him a chance to look up; I sliced him in two where he stood.
"That face, that sweet crimson nectar. You missed the feeling of spilling blood, didn't you?"
I cut down another body.
"You bear the face of a monster. A predator. Peace isn't what you desire. It was never something you were destined to have. Revenge is what you seek, or have you forgotten?"
I stopped as he reappeared behind me with a dark smile that reminded me of Korne's. He held my weapon tight, but I couldn't move. He was right there, a foe needing to be slain, yet I stood, locked in place. Was this fear? Or—
"I told you, Aerivorne welcomes the violence when the forgotten deity forbids it. But judging by your face, that was not what you were wondering about."
His arms moved towards the sky as if welcoming the stars.
"We elven priests have a unique ability that other races cannot comprehend. I say 'we,' but there are only two of us. One being me, and the other running from the death he should have accepted a long time ago."
The dark elf lowered his arms and turned his gaze towards me. He took a step forward, carelessly trampling the corpses on the ground. With each step he took, a wet crunch filled my ears until he stopped just before me.
"You stand here motionless because you know I can provide you with answers."
"So then," I said. He was right. I could tell from the way he behaved that he knew something. How did he know what happened? And why does he know so much about me? "Just who are you? And what is this ability you claim to have?"
"I am a humble priest of Aerivorne. My body and soul belong to them. So, that being said, you may call me Shaelvir. As for my ability, it's—"
[Judas!] A voice rang loudly through my ear implant, drowning the words spoken from the dark elf. [You'd better make it here unless you want to be dead before you achieve what you want.]
The dark elf's ears twitched after he finished speaking, and he gave me a soul-robbing smile. "Well, the cat is out of the bag, I suppose, so I'll leave you with this small bit of information, seeing as you blessed my eyes with such an impressive display of dismemberment."
He pulled his robe tightly around him and lowered his hood.
"The one you seek is just ahead. I suggest you break away from that hesitation unless you want to die before the grand finale."
With that, the dark elf disappeared into the darkness, and as he did, the sky lit up with a fiery explosion. I gripped my weapon tightly to the point where I felt the skin on my palms tear.
Just what was he about to say before Velantra interjected?
That thought would have to either wait to be forgotten, as the dark elf's final words said the one that I seek is up ahead.
I had no other choice, so I sprinted. Ignoring the pain I felt from the broken bones, I weaved in and out of the trees, following the sound of gunshots and the light.
Just ahead…there were at least two of them. That sound, its timing between shots, I could tell who it was with ease. As their former leader, I had to know that sound. It was what separated hope from despair. But now that sound is coming from the other side, hope is no longer there.
Emlyn, our ace in the hole.
She was not the only threat. She would never venture out alone. It was me or Al that accompanied her on scout missions. Seeing as I am no longer on their side, there could only be one other person with her.
As I ran out into the open, I spotted a strange scene before me. Poppy was thrown against a tree, limping her way up, as a strange woman dressed in some kind of over-the-top apparel stood with a familiar-looking elf who seemed to be out of commission.
Next to that woman was my armor. As a sniper's shot rang out, my armor dashed towards the woman like a bodyguard, deflecting the bullet. As it did, I noticed him.
He ran out into the open with his signature spear aimed at the woman's head. Before I knew it, I felt my body surge with adrenaline. I ran in between the two and clashed my blade against his.
His bloodthirsty look.
His uniform.
The small knives he kept lined up on his belt.
There was no mistaking who this man was.
"Lucan." He was the first to speak after I pushed him off. His eyes burned with an unspoken rage.
"Al," I said, holding my side, hiding the pain I felt.
"You should be dead." He muttered as he readjusted his spear.
Without his armor, this should be a normal battle between two people. However, just looking at him, I could tell he was injured too.
I could not help but give him a hollow smile. "And you are gonna die."
"Heh, heh," Al laughed as he lowered his stance. "This is gonna be fun."