And now, there were five of them.
Quies, Abel, Elis, Red, and…
"Silque, what about you?" Abel called out to the young man beside Elis.
'Silque…'
"I'm fine. Elis came to help me a bit after we were ambushed, but by that point, the thing was practically dead."
Silque raised a hand to brush off imaginary debris from his shoulder plate, though, it didn't look much too exaggerated. Elis shot him a glance from the side.
Quies focused on remembering that name. This would be the cohort he would, most likely, be spending time with for however long the amount of time they spend in the depths is…
…perhaps these would be the people he would die with. The people he laid beside on the cold floor of judgement as blood poured from numerous wounds on his body.
'I won't die.' he thought to himself.
Quies formed his right hand into a fist—digging the tip of his middle finger into his palm to suppress the pain and bleeding. He had gotten used to the pain at one point. By now, though, his mental fortitude had withered, and the pain enveloped his mind once again—perhaps with an even greater potency compared to the first time he formed his crimson blade.
'Do they remember me? The cohort I met when we were in Etris… Abel did, but I don't know about the rest, especially Red. But, he should remember me from Etris, right?'
He wouldn't. Quies never met Red.
None of them met Red, in fact.
"How long have you guys been down here?" Quies asked bluntly. It was the most important question after all.
For one, the depths were not a forgiving place—and that didn't only apply towards physical harm. In fact, physical harm might be the least of one's worries when spending time in the depths, mainly because of their body, if you could call it that.
Most people end up in the depths after they die—their soul being violently ripped out of its corporeal vessel and dragged into the bellows of hell. Quies was a part of this group. Having their souls ripped out of their body also meant that the 'bodies' they have here aren't actually their true bodies.
In a sense, it is their soul's interpretation of what its vessel once was. Before death, the soul and the body are deeply entwined, obviously, so there's no doubt that the soul would remember most, if not all, the physical attributes—exterior and interior—of the vessel.
It was quite a tough idea for Quies to wrap his head around, and he wasn't alone. Many others have been puzzled regarding the relationship between the body and soul, along with the effects of the depths towards this link.
Once the cohort had regained control over their situation, Quies finally got a response.
"I couldn't tell you how long we've been here. Keeping track of time is near impossible." Abel responded.
'In hindsight, that was not a great question to ask. I've been having a terrible time keeping track of how long I've been here.'
Before Quies could continue the conversation, the sound of shifting sands caught his attention. It was Red.
"What was your name, again?" Red spoke from not too far away.
It was the first time Quies heard him speak. A chill went down his body, but he didn't know why. His voice was soothing after all, like a calm breeze that swept over these blunt blue dunes.
"Quies."
He responded bluntly, foot dragging across the sands.
"I'm glad we found each other again." Red said vaguely.
Quies didn't respond, an unknown discomfort muted his voice. An awkward silence fell upon the group as everyone grew still.
"How much can you hold, Abel?" Silque said abruptly.
"Confidently one, maybe two. They don't have much meat on them anyway." Abel responded, shifting the backpack-like carrier he had on his back.
"I can help you with that." Quies said, prompting a glance from the two members of the cohort.
"With what?"
"The threshers."
Abel looked back at Silque for a moment.
"I have nothing but my hands and my blood, and I'm starving." Quies added.
Meanwhile, Elis was busy preparing bandages and other remedies to treat the injuries they received. She and Silque were drenched in blood, though Silque was the one who bled the most.
Quies could tell. His innate sense and mastery over bloodrend had heightened skills which previously needed mental effort to a plane of subconscious function. For example, he could innately sense the 'kind' of blood from just a whiff and glance. It was something he learned—a skill he enhanced—to better his survivability in this terrible hell.
In fact, Quies could tell that most of the cohort was injured. Only two people here were unscathed from the battle: Quies and Red.
Thinking for a moment longer, Abel eventually gestured, with a slight weakness, for Quies to follow him. It was a subtle difference, but Quies could tell.
He glanced back at the cohort. Elis was starting to aid Silque with his wounds. Red approached with a measured pace, not at all in a hurry to help the two cohort members despite his flawless condition.
"Quies."
"Right, I'm coming." He said almost immediately. He turned away from the cohort and forced his feet to move towards Abel, who was now a couple of steps ahead of him.
They approached the thresher which had fallen closest to the cohort. Quies assumed that one of the two—Elis or Silque—had taken this one down.
"That's your name, right? Quies?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah."
Abel glanced back at the cohort before unsheathing a small knife.
Well, small compared to…
"Ah, right, I dropped my sword…"
"You dropped your sword?"
Quies, being the privileged bloodrender he is, couldn't fathom losing a sword, especially when fighting against multiple enemies. Then again, his sword was made of his own blood, and he didn't have the need to carry it around everywhere, sheath it, unsheath it, sharpen it…
"Before you came. One of those guys pounced when I least expected it."
"They dug?"
"Both at the same time."
Quies recalled when he saw Abel fight the two threshers before he sent his blood beam through one of the reptile's skulls.
"Good thing I came, then."