Rey, who had fallen a bit behind, had no choice but to stop thinking about the elders' behavior and make his presence known. Sudden flashes of light burst around him and, a heartbeat later, he snapped his fists downward, shaking off the blood that coated the sharp blades jutting from his forearms. The metallic edges caught the dim light, chipped and stained, as droplets of crimson spattered the ground.
Rey thought as he examined the nicks along his blades: "I've punched and cut through the bodies of the wailing souls suffering in the lower circles. And those other things we met along the way… but none of them felt like these bodies. These are more solid; they have blood and flesh that isn't rotting. They're definitely like the elders. From the world of the living… bounty hunters. On top of that, it seems I'm doomed to use these weapons only defensively. The thrusts driven by the action mechanisms, combined with the speed of my best movement, triple my attack speed—but at a cost to the sharpness of the blades." Staring at the chipped and dented edges of his weapons, he went on: "This is why you don't just take up a weapon lightly. For now, I have to make sure I don't break them."
No corpses fell on the two brothers up ahead—not even severed limbs. Only a great torrent of blood rained down, along with weapons and pieces of battered armor. Fifty people had been ground into chunks in the span of a single blink.
Jhades coughed out the blood of his enemies, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and burst out with a question:
"What the hell…?!"
The vampire thought it had to have been one of the elders. Yes, it had to be one of them—but when he looked toward the unwanted son of the family, he had no choice but to swallow hard. Dante lowered his head, horrified by the scene in front of them: the blood seeped like water between the tree roots, running in thin streams. Slivers of fingers, ears, splintered bones, eyes, and torn flesh were the only solid, recognizable things on the ground. Those scattered remains caught the gaze of the wolf pup, who couldn't say a word because of the knot tightening in his throat.
And how could he not feel threatened, when he had no idea whether the hundreds of shadows surrounding them were allies or enemies? Human-shaped silhouettes leapt from one place to another, scattering across the area like the unseen guardians of Paradise, desperate not to be noticed.
The answers came on their own to the mind of the one who could no longer maintain a cold, calculated demeanor.
"How many times did you have to cut the same man to leave him like this?" Jhades asked, turning his gaze to the last member of the group.
Rey had no time to indulge his brothers' reactions. It made no sense in a situation where their defenses were down and the enemy had already found them.
(Kiinnn, kinn, kiinn.) The screech of colliding metal rang out. In the same instant, the last one in the group vanished, and when the two youngsters whipped their heads around, they saw their brother reappear in front of them, while three spinning daggers still glinted in the air, tumbling chaotically. The danger had become undeniable: one of the three enemies was declaring hostile intent from the clearing.
The human wrapped in armor flicked his arms and, with a single movement, made ten daggers appear in each hand. Backed by his imposing voice, he hurled his words into the air:
"Leonel! So there you were! Why do you lower yourself to using weapons when you could be relying on the defense barrier and the sorcerer level you used to get through the lower circles?"
The white eyes glowing from within the forest's darkness seemed to focus on the words of the man who spoke the ancient tongue with a heavy accent. "Why would I rely on my best ability in a fight? Especially when the clan members are watching me," he thought.
"Oh? How long has it been since we saw you fall?" the man went on. "I suppose you must be stronger now, and I should be careful. But I can't keep myself from telling you my opinion—or our motives. Listen to this human talk. You might even learn something."
Rey tried to create a shadow so he could shift positions unnoticed, but another dagger flew straight toward his brothers' throats. He was forced to stay where he was, once more whipping up his blades to intercept the weapon's trajectory at the last second.
He had already realized that using "Aura" was useless against these opponents. And if he couldn't hide his presence, he also couldn't use his strongest move, because he would be left exposed and vulnerable during the time it took to charge the attack.
The imposing voice continued, dripping with resentment:
"Even if you lost your memories, in your past life you created this place that condemns my people. How does it feel to have the privilege of living well? Tell me, do you really think you have the right to enjoy life? Personally, I say no. Even though I don't know you at all, and I know for certain you haven't lived long, I can guarantee that what's inside you is just as filthy as that of all the horrible beasts and people you locked outside this beautiful place… or am I wrong?
"I've got questions in my head. Were you really baptized at birth? Have you never had sex, never eaten more than you should, never felt greed? Don't you want to lie down and do nothing while others spend their time doing something productive? Are you not violent, do you not hide things, have you never betrayed anyone? Ridiculous rules and assumptions for humans. I don't think it's fair that our race, just because it's the weakest, has to live by such standards. Not after everything we've done in life. Not after everything we've suffered.
"Why don't I see any god? Any elf? Any werewolf? Any being other than humans suffering the endless tortures of the hell you created? It's because they, precisely because they're strong, ended up as guardians. And the ones even stronger than them aren't even allowed in. That's how it is. This is fate: the weak must suffer…"
The three people in the clearing hardened their gazes at their leader's words, rage burning in their eyes.
"My heart burns," he growled, "after advancing so far, after suffering so much… we find you here, in this beautiful place. A place we'd also be entitled to if we were like you. Of course we would! I believe it. You and your brothers made the rules, and that's why you keep the privilege of being the exception. Therefore, if it's up to me, this will be the end of your life. Living is a burden, but since I am the voice that represents humans, I will keep on living so that this moment becomes the turn of those you once condemned to pronounce your sentence!"
The fallen bodies on the ground cried out as one:
"The gods must die!"
Another shout rose, even louder:
"Hell must end…!"
The roar grew even greater:
"And to make it possible, we'll start with you, Leonel De-Ranger!"
As the man spoke, a cloud of daggers was unleashed in every direction. Only the original—the one standing in front of Rey's brothers—managed to dodge them with quick movements of his hands. The hundreds of copies that had spread across the clearing were neutralized instantly, unable to defend themselves without weapons or armor.
"I have no idea what this lunatic is talking about. I don't know who Leonel is. I just know we have to run," was the shared thought that hit both Dante and Jhades the instant a dagger whistled past their faces.
Rey studied his enemies' faces. He understood there was no escaping a direct confrontation, and he also knew none of the elders planned to intervene. For him, the only option was to win in order to survive. He could not die, and he could not allow his brothers to be killed—not when he still wasn't sure if their mother loved them.
The two brothers turned, intending to flee toward the Great Wise Mage. Another attacker appeared, and with a single sweeping strike nearly cut them both in half. If not for Rey—who moved back with explosive speed, dodged, counterattacked, and cleaved the enemy's body first in two and then into four pieces—neither the young vampire nor the wolf pup would have survived.
Rey, more burdened than usual, said through clenched teeth:
"Dante, Jhades… try to stop getting in the way. If you don't fight the enemy because you're too busy thinking about how to escape, by the time you regret losing your chance to fight, it'll already be too late."
The two brothers couldn't help but swallow hard when they met the fury burning in the usually calm, expressionless face of their brother without a surname.
Rey shifted his focus. After warning his brothers, he finally noticed how his own hands were sweating, how his face felt tight after hearing the phrase "the end of your life." "What is this inside me? It's nothing like the survival instinct I had in the cave's darkness… or when I fought the arrogant ones in Purgatory. This is far more volatile, harder to control. My face… this expression I'm feeling… I don't recognize it.
"They can't be stronger than the enemies I've fought so far. But it seems that, since I can't use all of my sorcerer powers—Hero would figure out that I have his book—and my aura control is inefficient, I feel at a disadvantage. That disadvantage makes those words scare me, makes them feed the beasts lurking at my ears. Annoying demons that, by hammering away at me over and over, awaken a dangerous desire.
"To kill in order to live, right? Just like Dante said, I have a justification to kill, to feed those demons within me. But is it really okay? I'm getting used to taking lives… lives that will serve to make me greater as a warrior."
Dante couldn't ignore how shocked he was. If his brother, so determined to fight, hadn't saved his life, he would be dead already. "Is it really that easy to lose your life, even for someone invincible?" he wondered. He knew he had to fight, but he was also afraid of the three opponents—almost as afraid as he was of the elders. He didn't know what to do, but he did know he wanted to do something.
Jhades, caught between monsters, lost control of his breathing. Just making a decision without knowing the outcome first felt impossibly hard. "Do I go back to the Great Wise Mage on my own, or do I fight them?" That question spun around and around in his head. He understood that his chances of dying were higher if he made a move alone than if he stayed with the group.
Rey didn't wait for his brothers to decide. Releasing a great wave of threatening power and all his murderous intent, he leapt straight toward the leader of the three figures clad in worn armor, armor marked with the [OEM] logo—letters Rey did not understand and did not care to.
The wolf and the vampire saw a shadow streak past between them at incredible speed. In the blink of an eye, Rey shot out from the trees, aiming to circle their targets so the enemies would forget about his brothers. While the small hybrid ran as close to the ground as he could, he dodged the daggers that tried to skewer him, forcing himself to stay calm. White was involved as well, but the feline knew her role: to support her partner and circle the targets from the opposite side, making sure they didn't lower their guard or focus all their attention on a single point.
The boy with white eyes, keeping his distance, studied his enemies without stopping his circling run around them. The three imposing figures were his main concern. They weren't as big as his father, but they wore full plate armor, with the only gaps at the backs of the thighs and under the arms. Their three helmets were topped with different crests: one with red hair, one with gray feathers, and the last with red feathers.
The one with the red-feathered crest carried what looked like a pole weapon with two huge sharpened "ears," a dagger jutting from the center, and before the grip, a space where the remnants of what seemed to have been a flag still hung. The one wearing the gray-feathered helm had a thinner, more agile build. He stood upright, his right fist tucked behind his back, his left hand raised, holding a slender double-edged saber whose guard wrapped cleanly around his knuckles. The last one, with the helmet crowned in red hair—the one who had been speaking and throwing knives—stood in a more open stance than the others, holding in his left hand a massive greatsword still sheathed, its tip resting on the ground.
Not wanting to reveal his best cards first, Rey threw the daggers he had managed to pick up from the ground. The blades shot forward at high speed. The musket user felt the need to deflect them with his saber, but the other two simply covered their faces and let their armor take the blows. Rey kept circling them again and again, unleashing more than a dozen throws. Under the constant barrage, the three sets of armor didn't even crack, a clear sign of how tough they were.
The imposing voice rang out:
"Why does someone who isn't supposed to fear death try so hard to survive?!" When there was no reply, he continued, "What's wrong? Don't you know how to talk, Leonel?"
Rey, fully aware that humans used every kind of psychological tactic to achieve their goals, answered out loud without breaking his movement:
"My name is Rey… not Leonel."
One of the men standing beside the red-haired crest lost his temper; he tried to counterattack the constantly moving child with his spear. However, his more experienced companion stopped him quickly.
The imposing voice warned the spear bearer:
"Don't do anything unnecessary! If he'd tried to run away like the other two, I would've cut his head off without a second thought. But he's facing us, and he has cards he hasn't played yet. Even if he's just a kid, he moves using a discreet style of combat… I have no doubt he's extraordinary. That's why you keep your guard up, Frederick."
The man with the red-feathered helm grunted:
"What does it matter if he's extraordinary? This is the perfect time to kill him before the others come," he replied, switching to another language.
The voice answered:
"The parents aren't coming because they don't need to. We're the ones at a disadvantage…"
He lowered his gaze and dropped his visor to cover his face, then went on:
"He's still keeping his distance, and the guardian of this place at his side is just waiting to take advantage the moment we split up. I'm afraid we can't guarantee the safety of the wounded."
Stubbornly speaking in another language so only his allies and not his enemy would understand, he spoke like a man saying his goodbyes to those lying on the ground.
"It was an honor to make it this far, comrades. Thank you for your part in building a better world for humans… we are sure our successors will do the same. We are the voice, and therefore, we will never die in silence!"
Laughter rose from the dying bodies scattered across the clearing. Up until now, they seemed to have clung to life with everything they had, enduring the fire and tortures of hell. Those who could still move pushed themselves upright and honored their beliefs by placing their right hands over their chests. Others raised a fist to the sky, but one lifted his voice and began to sing what sounded like a hymn:
"Steel ships carry our bodies. Doors open onto new worlds, every field is a beginning and every world is ours…" The man's voice was out of tune. "Soldiers, advance. To fight is to serve, ha. To fight is to live, ha."
One voice became two, and two became three.
"Duty crashes down upon our minds. Hell stands before us, no sleep and always forward. Oh-oh-oh. Stay strong there. To the last drop of blood. Against wind, lightning, and thunder. Brave ones, to the battle in the land where silence reigns… The echo of our lives will ring in eternity. Even when our time comes and the heat leaves us, death will have to work for it. Weapons to the shoulder, at the call to battle we'll shout to the end. At the call of duty. Oh-oh-oh. Fire, advance. Oh-oh-oh…"
The one with the gray-feathered crest, speaking in his own tongue while everyone sang and died one by one, helpless under the hands of the boy and the guardian, added weight to his leader's words:
"Constan, Yacer is right. His eyes track every single one of our movements. We're being studied, and the fact that he's not using his best combat skills means he's cautious. Remember, we don't have our drug, and our mechanical suits aren't charged. We've got one chance left."
Yacer, the leader of the three, kept talking:
"Look at the strength and skill he uses to send back the daggers we threw at him. It proves he might have the conscious or unconscious ability to copy his opponent's movements, adding them to his own knowledge. That way he'll eventually gain the upper hand over us without even needing to use his best techniques."
Rey killed indiscriminately wherever he passed, never stopping as he snatched up the daggers that bounced back and hurled them again, all while running in circles and making sure he neither closed the distance nor stopped attacking. With sharp ears, listening through the constant ringing of metal, the boy also yearned to identify the new language the three opponents were now using, switching in and out of it. "I can't hear well. How inconvenient. On the ground they don't pose any threat, but I can't afford the mistake of leaving anyone alive who might harm me later."
The singing of the dying bodies faded little by little, and more blood spread across the ground. Yacer spoke again in another language:
"He's clever. He kills us one by one, and to avoid using his power he replaces brute strength with intelligence. His eyes are desperate to end this fight and, like a beast, he won't stop moving as long as he has strength left. This isn't the first time we've seen a non-human get back up as many times as it takes, waiting for us to let our guard down and give him a chance to land a finishing blow. We're not new at this. Rule number one when fighting any intelligent non-human entity is: the longer the fight drags on, the more likely we are to lose. But…"
With the death of the last soldier who had been singing, and without losing his calm, Yacer added confidently, just as his massive left arm shot out and grabbed the boy by the neck, lifting him off the ground only for him to vanish like the shadow he was.
"If either of the other two little ones in the forest steps in, we'll have our opening. Hostages are the weak point of anyone trying to protect."
Summoning every ounce of strength in his body, the man in worn armor with the red-haired crest swung his right arm in a savage strike meant to rip out the eyes of the boy who attacked him again with another clone.
Yacer, as if calling a battle cry, shouted:
"Hold formation. Guard up. Honor our fallen comrades. Let the voice prevail!"
Heads rolled across the blood-soaked ground. Under the claws of the guardian of Paradise and Rey's attacks, the last of the wounded and dying finally fell, leaving only the three original enemies standing.
"His supply of throwing knives can't be infinite," Rey thought. "That's why he's still holding on to his sword. If I'm not mistaken, even sheathed he could draw it quickly in close combat. A good swordsman makes sure there's nothing between his off-hand and the hilt. I've got no armor; I'm vulnerable—especially against a double-edged blade that can cut in both directions. I have to keep him from drawing his sword. If I neutralize his free hand, that should do it. A strike to the neck will be fastest; he'll have no choice but to sacrifice his dominant arm to block…"
Rey flooded his muscles with energy and reinforcement enchantments as he moved into what he judged the perfect spot. In just a few seconds he created a copy of himself, one that mirrored his propelled leap and attacked with the wrist blades. Spinning forward, he aimed a slashing strike at the enemy's throat; the edge of his attack managed to pierce slightly through the armor covering his opponent's wrist.
With too little time to spare, Yacer barely managed to pick out the original. Ignoring his sword's hilt, he thrust his hand in front of his neck to shield the weak point in his armor. He wanted to drop the sword he was holding in his off-hand and draw a dagger to stab the boy, but realized just how reckless Rey's move had been. "This little demon must be planning something."
And he was. Before his enemy could take proper precautions, Rey leveled his hand at the man's stomach and murmured the words of a shortened spell.
"Mark…"
Rey had just finished whispering one of the spells Heroclades had specifically allowed him to use (attack of the dark dragon), when a huge black bolt shot from his palm. At its tip, it formed the head of a dragon, baring its savage fangs. The black-scaled creature screamed, burning with hatred. It looked ravenous, with daggers in its eyes, several teeth missing, and a tongueless mouth that, once unleashed, behaved like a raging bolt of vengeance for all it had lost.
Realizing how reckless it was to keep his opponent that close, Yacer shoved the boy back in a desperate attempt to escape the impending blow. Even so, all he managed was to throw the still-sheathed greatsword in front of himself as a shield. He hunched over, curling in around his gut as he grabbed for the opposite end of the blade with his other arm to brace it.
The impact was so massive it drove him violently backward, even with his feet dug deep into the ground.
The dragon's half-open jaws clamped down on the greatsword and, after several furious bites, shattered it into pieces before crashing into two forearms encased in armor. Luckily for him, the head of the serpentine creature, chained in spikes, wasn't large enough to swallow his whole body. Even so, the blow was powerful enough to break the formation of the three humans.
But the other two didn't just stand there. While their leader was being dragged back, Constan and Frederick spun around, ready to attack.
White moved as well. With an intimidating roar and claws bared to kill, she lunged with her paws wide open. She aimed to lighten her partner's load, going straight for the wielder of the polearm, knowing he was the greatest threat at that moment. A spear was the longest-reaching weapon there, the one that could skewer her companion from behind.
Not worrying about his rear, Rey hit the ground again and went right back to running to avoid the other opponent's slashing saber. Even so, as soon as he got the chance, the boy rushed in to assist his feline partner against the more solidly built man carrying the spear.
Yacer, his smile broken, spat blood from his mouth.
"If there's anything I hate more than non-humans, it's feeling pain. Even as a sorcerer, you can chant with a shortened incantation. You must have been trained by someone remarkable. Among humans, only the elders who are raised from birth in this world of the 'called' are even barely capable of changing the elemental properties of objects. Calling used to be a trade some people made a living from, until one day certain non-humans turned that trade into a fighting style and carved their way through the gods."
He chose to say it aloud as he straightened his posture, undoing the V-shaped hunch in his back.
"You've managed to summon a weakened version of a dark dragon just to hit me, not to keep it present. So, are you unable to control your callings?"
Yacer shot forward from where he stood and, with a bit of anticipation, managed to circle around the boy. With fierce energy, he blended well-practiced moves with those of his companion, the saber wielder. Even though Rey kept his guard high, the man with the red-haired crest seized control of the fight with his bare fists. Yacer didn't care if he hurt himself on the blades' edges, so long as those same edges slipped through the gaps in his armor's joints.
Rey stepped back slightly and adjusted the angle of his arms, feeling his opponent's blood splatter across his face. If the fight continued like this, he wouldn't have to use any risky moves; his opponent would bleed out and die on his own. "Solving a complicated situation with simple methods is much more ingenious than solving it with complicated ones," Rey remembered the philosophy his master and father lived by. "Calling in a fight as unpredictable as this one isn't efficient. Not if I run the risk of ending up cursed by my own move. I must never underestimate either the knowledge or the strength of my opponent. If I can get my hands on a knife, I can kill all three of them at once. The only thing that wouldn't work in my favor is if an ally is inside the perimeter of my next attack. If that happens, they'll end up as ground meat…"
Over and over, Yacer smashed his fists into the boy, who was clearly plotting something by staying so still. Even when he reached the point of injuring himself further and bleeding from everywhere, he never once let the killing intent behind his blows weaken. The polearm wielder, while White bit down on the tattered flag and dodged the sharp tip, used a spinning kick to send the small liger flying, then grabbed one of the daggers strapped behind his leader's back. Constan, aiming for the small chest of the opponent his commander was hammering, hurled the dagger with all his strength, and its gleam made Rey's eyes light up.
The calculations were perfect. Rey couldn't help the change in his expression; all he had to do was catch that knife and he would win the fight. Making his preparations, he moved in to use "Aura." Ten shadows would be enough of a distraction, buying him the time he needed to Call "the cutting of a thousand knives," the same Calling he had used, along with his movement, to wipe out the hunters who had ambushed his brothers.
…
Meanwhile, in the forest, Jhades watched and saw that only three opponents remained—and that his brother was in trouble. If he chose to run and, for some reason, Rey died, the three men would definitely catch him long before he could reach the Great Wise Mage. It made far more sense to act and help his brother, who had already handled most of the work.
Dante stood with his arms crossed. He no longer saw those enemies the way he had at first; they weren't that big, not so terrifying, especially when his brother was holding his own against them. He was thinking too, though his thoughts weren't as deep as the vampire's. The wolf pup admired how reckless Rey was, for his knowledge and his strength, but at the same time resented him for taking on opponents he couldn't defeat. And if he couldn't beat them alone, why didn't he ask for help? Maybe then Dante would acknowledge him as leader. "Of course, if the invincible brother has to step in, he'd be submitting his position as leader. Still, if I jump in without being invited, he'll owe me his thanks, and mother will see I don't need anyone to protect me."
Priovam melted into the shadows and drew one of the two giant pistols he had received from the Great Wise Mage. From afar, as soon as he had his target lined up with both hands, he pulled the trigger and unleashed a burst of bullets at the mark he had chosen. The pistol was in automatic mode and, sure enough, Jhades hadn't realized this mistake. A mistake that guaranteed the effectiveness of the first bullet, but not of the ones that followed.
…
Seeing his opponent's victorious face and the knife halfway to its target, Constan heard the crack of a bullet burst. A heartbeat later, he watched the dagger he had thrown disintegrate in a spray of sparks, while several projectiles whistled dangerously close past him. The face of the one his leader insisted on calling "Leonel" changed, going dark—the look of an optimist watching a chance slip away right in front of his eyes. With the blast of the seventh shot, one of the pauldrons on Constan's armor exploded into a thousand pieces, but he told himself it didn't matter. According to Yacer, the moment the other two kids stepped in, the three of them would have their opening.
Rey kept his eyes wide open. Even with his hand outstretched, he failed to grab the dagger and canceled his "Aura" technique. On top of his opponent's blows, he was now forced to dodge the flying metal fragments raining through the air, as well as the bullets his brother was firing.
"Do not interfere!!!" he shouted, glancing toward White, who was the only one that seemed to hear him.
Rey's vision was swallowed up by a dense white smoke. He'd already learned that getting overconfident in a fight was never a good idea, and the smoke cloud left him no choice but to wait for his brothers to learn that lesson themselves. There was nothing he could do but wait to recover his sight or find an opening to properly channel the energy from his core and amplify the strength in his body.
Frederick jumped in front of the bullets and, after deflecting several with his sword, vanished from Jhades's line of sight behind the gas cloud created by a grenade Constan had thrown. The man with the gray-feathered crest moved quickly, reaching the forest and leaping between the trees to land behind the vampire who had decided to intervene.
Jhades pretended to be confused when he saw the armored figure drop down behind him, but he had already calculated the situation. The vampire had his second pistol aimed backward over his shoulder and pulled the trigger at the exact moment he couldn't hide the smile on his face. The thunder of the burst echoed through the area and, even though his opponent managed to move just enough for the impact not to be lethal, Jhades was sure he had the fight won. The young vampire spun around, raising his weapons to aim again at the enemy retreating the same way he had come, determined not to waste the wounds he had already inflicted and to finish off the threat completely.
When Frederick appeared behind the blue-eyed boy with his sword raised, he noticed the pistol and the kid's grin, which forced him to react and move as much as he could. As soon as the burst of gunfire rang out, one of the bullets punched a small hole through the front of the armor on his shoulder; the exit, however, was anything but clean. The human felt a whole explosion of flesh and bone behind his shoulder, forcing him to stagger back—but not before letting a viscous substance drip from his sword's hilt onto the boy.
Frederick barely caught a glimpse of the blue-eyed child turning to try and shoot him again, and growled through the pain:
"Not so fast, damn brat!" At the same time, he triggered a detonator built into his sword's guard, setting off the explosive substance stuck to the lower back of the vampire.
The explosion was brutal, especially for a child's not-so-resilient body. The clothes around his waist were shredded, his legs were torn from his body, blood flew through the air, and his intestines splattered across the ground. Screaming in agony, Jhades ended up on the floor, trying to move feet that were no longer there.
Dante, unaware that Jhades had become the target of one of the enemies, stepped into the clearing with his katana drawn, charging at the one with the damaged shoulder—the man fighting to keep his spear from being torn away by the guardian of Paradise's jaws. Constan noticed the obvious attack from a second child trying to take advantage of his weakened condition. With no choice but to release his spear, he raised the guard of his still-functional arm to defend against the clumsy thrusts the young wolf hurled at him.
Neither the edge of the katana nor Dante's strength was enough to damage the skin beneath his opponent's armor. Even so, once the wolf pup, carried away by the fantasy of cutting metal with metal, picked up the pace of his thrusts—
Constan seized the opening and slammed a brutal kick into the pup's face, breaking his nose and several teeth, sending him staggering back with his lips torn open. Out of control from the pain of his broken nose and the loss of several important teeth, Dante kept hacking away, but being blinded by the frustration of not being able to slice his enemy in two only made his movements even less precise—just like when he'd shattered his first sword against a rock.
Though he'd been taught the basic movements and the proper way to thrust, the wolf pup gripped the katana one-handed at the very bottom of the hilt, his thrusts landing with the very beginning of the edge right after the guard. He didn't even raise the weapon above his head, didn't push on the upper part of the hilt to make use of the curved blade, didn't take a step forward to put his own body's force behind his cuts. He relied only on his mediocre strength, with no technique and no finesse.
In full control of the fight, the seasoned soldier took advantage of the boy's temperament, leaping and leaving his opponent even more confused. Dante, forced to drag air into his lungs through his mouth, realized the enemy was planning to strike him from above. Regaining some calm, he brought his sword into a defensive angle to evade the blow and at the same time gave a second purpose to one of his claws.
Using the flat of the blade, Dante blocked and slipped away from the enemy's attack. Immediately after, with his free claw, he managed to sink his fingers deep into one of the exposed gaps in the armor on his opponent's leg.
Seeing how easy it was to cut his opponent even while he was at a disadvantage, the wolf pup began to laugh and added the kind of words that were so typical of him:
"I'm invincible. The poison in my claw will kick in soon."
He took a step forward.
A sound drew Dante's attention to the ground. When the pup looked back up, Constan was the one laughing last. Helpless in his ignorance, Dante never saw the explosive at his feet until it went off in a blazing blast that engulfed his whole body.
Not only was the sword ripped from his small hands, but the violent explosion tore away his clothes, burned his skin, and left muscles and even some of the bones of his supposedly tough body exposed. Drowning in pain, the boy tried to wipe his face to see and keep fighting, but he couldn't. He only collapsed onto the ground, barely able to breathe or speak.
…
As soon as the smoke in the clearing thinned, Rey was still dodging his opponent's suicidal attacks. He'd heard the two near-simultaneous explosions, but had no idea what he was about to see. Out of the corner of his eye, Rey caught sight of his brothers' mangled bodies.
"Judging by how they look and what I heard, they got hit by explosions. The smoke kept me from seeing how the detonations were triggered. That must be these guys' strongest card. If both the one with the gray-feathered crest and the one with the red feathers could cause an explosion, why hasn't this one made his move yet? Something doesn't add up."
Rey brought his hands to his neck and felt something foreign clinging there. As soon as he identified the strange sensation, he tried to rip it free. "What was splattering me wasn't just blood, it was this sticky stuff building up all over my body."
Yacer, seeing the boy's eyes and his frantic movements, backed away. "I can't let him figure out a way to escape," he thought urgently, while a kind of black plate slid from his mouth. He bit down on it and snapped it in two.
The fluid coating Rey's hair, neck, face, arms, clothes, and the ground around him detonated in a single explosion. The sound was horrifying, and the ground itself rose in a small cloud of dust. Rey ended up kneeling on the ground, his face burned and unrecognizable. He was still breathing, but not through his nose—through the open wound in his neck. With his jaw dislocated and his hands gone, he refused to fall or lose his balance, keeping his ruined guard raised.
…
Yacer, Frederick, and Constan limped over to gather around the dying bodies. Each of the three pulled a knife hidden in compartments built into their armor. The weapons were clearly special: each blade came with a strange yellow-liquid vial embedded into it, the contents dripping down to bathe the metal.
Frederick's words to Jhades could be heard clearly:
"It's a shame you won't be able to keep suffering in hell after this… This substance is designed to cancel out the immortality of those like you."
"Stop wasting damn time talking and neutralize the target already!!" Yacer snapped, wading through the flames as he made his way toward Rey.
The human looked pale, short of breath after losing so much blood. As soon as he stopped before the kneeling boy, he saw those newly healed eyes follow him. White eyes that froze him in place and made him swallow hard.
"My life doesn't belong to anyone but me. I'll live how I want and wherever I want to live. I'll die when I decide to die. And I've decided this is not my moment—it's yours," Rey said with his gaze from his knees, since his mouth could no longer form words.
"So… is it mercy to kill someone so they don't suffer? I'm just resting, but it's good to know that's the only thing I'll be missing out on before I finish you off," Dante added. "I'll tear your body apart because it'll be fun to tear it apart… take responsibility for the instinct you woke up."
"You lost your chance to kill. You lost your chance to live. You, judges, sentenced yourselves the moment you came looking for your own deaths," Jhades said. "Now I'll fight—because that's what I want."
With the little time his opponent had left him, and ignoring the pain tormenting his body, Rey finished his improvised procedure of channeling the energy from his core to reinforce his skin—and with that, to transform. Rising to the advanced rank of transformation and regeneration, Rey changed his form without having to fly into a rage like his brother and regenerated his missing flesh without following Jhades's methods.
Yacer drove his knife in a thrust aimed straight at his target's temple, but his arm stopped halfway—and then was split in two, bones bursting out between the armored plates.
Rey grew—his body expanded as the structure of his muscles, bones, skin, and flesh changed. It wasn't a werewolf's body; the beast he became was something else entirely. He went from wearing white fur with stripes to having the skin and size of a fully grown guardian of Paradise.
The first thing the now not-so-small Rey did, once his transformation ended, was unleash a thunderous roar right into Yacer's face, who was already screaming from the fracture in his right arm.
White recognized the body she was seeing. It was her father's body, altered with human traits. A body that brought back nothing but bad memories and a great deal of suffering.
At the sound of the beast's roar, Constan turned his head toward the massive feline rising up on two legs, and watched as the creature, jaws wide open, bit down and tore off his leader's helmet—then immediately followed with a rising hook to Yacer's stomach that sent him flying into the sky.
Rey kept the severed piece of his opponent. When he opened his claw, the broken helm dropped to the ground, and he lifted his head.
"Damn you!" Constan shouted at the top of his lungs.
With what little strength he had left, and after regaining some of his sight, Dante took advantage of his enemy's distraction. Enraged by pain, he transformed his right hand. With a single savage swipe, the werewolf drove his altered claw past the elbow and up between his opponent's legs.
Turning his gaze back to the boy, Constan spat blood through the helmet covering his face. He tried to strike with his poisoned dagger, but his body wouldn't follow. His lungs did nothing but struggle to breathe while his legs shook beneath him. "A fatal lapse," he told himself bitterly.
Jhades, having regained most of his emotional control, shrouded the area in a sphere of darkness that swallowed his opponent's body. The upper half of the vampire appeared behind Frederick, sinking his fangs into the man's neck while simultaneously stabbing him in the back with the knife-blades fused to the ends of his pistols—and on top of that, he pulled the triggers, firing multiple shots, drinking blood at the same time he emptied burst after burst into his opponent's heart to make sure he didn't thrash free.
Frederick felt each shot change the angle of the pistols, turning the bullets even more lethal. The rounds that tore through his chest also sheared off his other arm at the wrist. Helpless to do anything but watch his own hand hit the ground, the soldier let his body drop.
Rey, still on the ground, seeing that his brothers were managing on their own, spat out the helmet from his mouth and leapt with incredible force. His intention was clear: to reach the sky faster than his enemy. Faced with giants and colossi, the transformed boy saw only one thing—his target.
Yacer tried to turn his back to him, but never realized Rey was already waiting for him there.
The youth with white eyes wrapped his fist in black flames and declared:
"Mark of the Thousand Black Wolves!"
The two bodies collided in midair, but only the boy's devastating punch reversed Yacer's upward trajectory.
The human body encased in armor was slammed violently back down. Its brutal descent broke the sound barrier. The air sheared away every last fragment of the already shattered armor marked with the [OEM] initials. Wrapped in the agony caused by the flames and the savage friction with the air, the man was hurled inevitably into yet another impact—one that promised to be only slightly less brutal than the two that had come before.
The ground that received him, now faced with a body without any more protection, split and sank inward, forming a crater with a two-kilometer radius. A shockwave of wind so violent was unleashed that it ripped trees from the ground within ten kilometers, and everything up to thirty was toppled by the earthquake that followed in the wake of the entire chain of events.
By comparison, the shockwaves the elders generated were a hundred times more violent. Even though Dante and Jhades were battered by the blast, they didn't move from where they lay, their bodies welded to the ground along with those of their enemies. In a whirlpool effect, tree trunks that had been flung away were dragged back by other currents of energy rushing in from the surroundings.
Dazed on the ground, Yacer opened his eyes and saw the beast still falling, lining up to strike with a closed fist at tremendous speed and destructive power. He tried to react and get up as fast as he could—but how could someone move when not a single bone in his body was intact, his brain was damaged, and blood poured from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears?
"In the end… what am I so worried about?" he asked himself. "Touching him was enough… I am human, after all. The weakest race… I should've run when I had the chance."
Just a few meters before Rey could crash down onto his motionless opponent, with his power at its limit, he felt time run out—and as a consequence of his improvised move, he lost consciousness. The energy in his hands turned unstable, but, unconsciously, he discharged it forward to avoid suffering the side effects. The massive blast struck the ground right next to his target, disintegrating one of the man's arms and leaving another enormous hole in the earth.
"No!!! It would be unjust to stop doing everything I can to secure a better future for the generations to come. I am the voice of all humans, therefore I cannot die, nor be forgotten," Yacer thought the instant he opened his eyes again. He was disappointed not to have died, burdened with the duty to continue, and added out loud:
"Humans, you have seen what hell is like! The sacrifice of my soldiers will not be in vain. Even though I no longer harbor hatred within me, I, Yacer De-Mars, together with Frederick De-Phobos and Constan De-Deimos, under the command of Árjos Red De-Mars and all those like us in battle, made a god bleed and raised our voice. May humanity's successors never lose their courage and keep moving forward."
Controlling and forcing the energy running through his body—his partly robotic body—into motion, the man managed to replace the function of his skeleton and bloodstream with his mind alone. Breathing because he ordered himself to. Recovering because he ordered himself to. Moving because he ordered himself to. Speaking because he ordered himself to.
"Damn you, you who once called yourself a judge. Say 'hello' to those you condemn as lord. This is my final try, my last scream…"
Rey, still unconscious, hit the ground like a stone.
Frederick, after the last glimmer faded from his eyes, said:
"A vampire, in the end… Such a dishonorable, immoral act can only come from your kind. No matter. Stay close to me… as close as you can… I have no honor in battle either, and I never came here expecting to stay."
Jhades asked a question, worried—just as worried as he was amazed to see someone whose heart no longer beat still speaking:
"Are you even fully human?"
He had no choice but to finish regenerating his missing limbs if he wanted to escape. The smile brightening Frederick's face answered the vampire's question, and that was enough to make Jhades scramble back as fast as he could.
Dante pulled his arm free from his opponent's body and saw something he knew all too well from his time with his master: circuits and wires. Certain of what was about to happen, he realized part of the man's blood had no smell at all, and added:
"I'm invincible. Bets like this are fun every now and then. Whether Rey dies first, or I do, or Jhades, or you… it's all the same. We'd just be moving the inevitable forward a little. Like my master says: 'Stop worrying more than you have to, and I guarantee you'll suffer less.'"
The red-eyed wolf pup, before turning his back on the whole scene, grabbed his katana and ran with all his strength, leaving the nameless brother lying on the ground behind him.
Yacer, flushed and yellow-eyed, dragged himself closer to the small boy whose body was returning to normal. Using the one hand he had left, he grabbed the child by the hair and said:
"So you don't get the chance to use your defense barrier at the last second… there's no escape for you."
bursting out from the bushes with a powerful roar and the violence of a storm, White lunged in and tore off the man's remaining arm with a savage shake of her head. As hard as she could, the feline seized her partner's body and bolted in the opposite direction, racing past the other two young guardians of Paradise—two ligers who had remained hidden until that moment.
The flesh of the three bodies glowing yellow vanished, and their energy erupted violently. The explosion of light mixed with the earth, the wind, and the few remaining trees in the area until it crashed against Katherine's black ice, flooding most of the only patch of land that still held any vegetation. The sound, like thunder, rolled across the whole of Heaven. The shockwaves, carrying searing heat, burned what was left of the greenery, while the lingering smoke, dust, and heat promised to kill with their poison and toxicity.
As fast as they ran, the six youngsters were swallowed by the chaotic blast. Dante, Rey, White, and the other two ligers all lost control of their footing as they were hurled violently forward. Using evasive maneuvers, the five of them managed to avoid crashing into the largest objects, while smaller splinters of stone and wood slammed into their backs, buried themselves into their flesh, and in some cases passed straight through.
The light left Jhades with no shadows to hide in. Of everyone there, he was the one most affected despite not being hit by any debris—the light burned his flesh and melted his eyes. The shockwave ruptured their eardrums and made them all cough blood.
White's cries woke Rey, who, still half stunned, was tumbling through the air and smashing into everything around him. Unable to hear or see anything, the boy stretched out his arm and, the moment he felt the soft fur of his loyal companion, he made his core expand as far as it possibly could. He shut himself inside it—and everything in the area as well, including his brothers and the other two ligers. The nameless child set himself to endure as long as he could. The sphere cracked in several places, the fissures widened, and the barrier came within a hair of shattering completely. The force of the explosion passed through, and the event finally came to an end.
…
From the middle of the battlefield, at the highest point overlooking everything, where the Great Wise Mage had taken his stand, the Colossus of Darkness and Blood kept fighting the seemingly endless wave of enemies. Even as she battled with ferocity and skill, she formed a third hand, which pointed toward the place where the explosion had gone off—where her little ones were.
…
In the middle of the battlefield, Rey was the only one still breathing and able to move, though he wasn't far from dying from the radioactive poison eating him from the inside. Under the black rain, Dante and Jhades, in contrast, lay dead. It was a mercy Rey couldn't see, because death is anything but pretty when your brothers' internal organs are scattered across the ground. Broken bodies, missing limbs, unrecognizable faces—flesh, bone, and blood mingled with the bare rocks.
Rey's ignorance didn't last long. All at once, in the middle of a violent gush of blood, his vision returned. Even though he was burned all over and couldn't use his body's regeneration, he suddenly felt better—then saw his two brothers return to the way they had been before.
Turning his head, Rey saw his mother. It was she who was giving them their lives back and healing their wounds. She was using a lost elemental control, one with strict limits—and among those limits, the three guardians of Paradise did not exist.
"So my brothers passed the initiation process… I'm the one left," Rey thought. "Maybe if I'd died, I could take joy in this situation and all the others." Then another thought followed: "This is what they call radiation… I'm poisoned. With time and no treatment or outside help, I'll probably die. I don't think it can get worse than this."
He opened his eyes. His vision was no longer as clouded as before, and he realized there was something in his hands. Tears, pouring from enraged eyes—a torrent of water that wouldn't stop.
"No, no, no… you can't do this to me."
Maryam let go of his hand and went back to fighting, yet she was worried and couldn't hide it. What she feared most had happened and, despite being so far away, she heard for the very first time the desperate crying of the child who hadn't cried when he was born. A mother's worry, feeling one of her children's pain, has almost no limits—and the other two little ones were about to wake up. "How would they react if they realized their toys were broken too?" she wondered. "Maybe not as badly as Rey is. They died and came back… they learned what it means to rest in peace. Even so, loss is something hard to bear at any age."
The Great Wise Mage, wandering through the sky with his hands clasped behind his back, paused beside the vampire and spoke to the suffering mother, who pressed her hands to her chest and let her tears fall to the ground.
"You don't need to make room for worry in your mind. This is the life they were given, and they have the weapons they need to defend it and live it… I understand you can't do anything for the guardians, but perhaps I can."
Maryam, making the colossus bare its teeth and tongue to devour its foes, added:
"Worry. A word so tangled up with responsibility… isn't that right?" she asked, dismembering another opponent. "Aaaah, so many times a mother and I still haven't learned to let go of these feelings. I always regret it when I hear them cry… My chest tightens, and my blood twists."
Her tone shifted to something harsher, more scolding:
"They're just broken toys. Learn the lesson…"
Then, slipping back into her pained cadence:
"I wish I could say that to them. But this guilt I feel—for having let my whims run wild, for the future I've dragged my children into, for the life I gave them, for forcing them to live a fight they never asked for—won't let me be that hard on them."
Turning to the old man who waited patiently, she said:
"Great Wise Mage, I ask you, please… help them."
The red-eyed wolf pup, before turning his back on the situation, picked up his katana and sprinted with all his strength, leaving the nameless brother lying on the ground behind.
Yacer, flushed and yellow-eyed, dragged himself closer to the small boy whose body was returning to normal. Using his remaining hand, he grabbed the boy by the hair and said:
"So you don't get the chance to use your defense barrier at the last second… there's no escape for you."
Bursting out from the bushes with a powerful roar and the violence of a storm, White lunged in and tore off the man's remaining arm with a savage shake of her head. As hard as she could, the feline snatched up her partner's body and ran in the opposite direction, darting past the other two young guardians of Paradise—the two ligers who had stayed hidden until then.
The flesh of the three bodies glowing yellow ceased to exist and their energy exploded violently. The blast of light fused with the earth, the wind, and the few remaining trees until it slammed into Katherine's black ice, flooding most of the only area that still held vegetation. The sound, like thunder, rolled across all of Heaven. The shockwaves, searing hot, burned the last scraps of greenery, while the smoke, dust, and lingering heat promised death through poison and toxicity.
As fast as they ran, the six youngsters were swallowed by the chaos. Dante, Rey, White, and the other two ligers lost control of their footing as they were hurled forward. Using evasive maneuvers, the five of them managed not to crash into the largest objects, while smaller fragments of stone and wood slammed into their backs, buried themselves in their flesh, and in some cases tore straight through.
The light left Jhades with no shadows to hide in. Of everyone there, he was the most affected despite not being hit by any debris: the light burned his flesh and melted his eyes. The shockwave burst their eardrums and made all of them cough blood.
White's cries woke Rey. Still dazed, he was flung through the air, smashing into whatever surrounded him. Unable to hear or see, the boy stretched out his arm, and the moment he felt the soft fur of his loyal companion, he forced his core to expand as far as it could. He enclosed himself and everything in the area—his brothers and the two ligers included. The nameless boy resolved to endure as long as he could. The sphere cracked in several places, the fractures widened, and the barrier came within a breath of shattering completely. The energy of the explosion washed through, and the event finally ended.
…
From the middle of the battlefield, at the highest point of the area where the Great Wise Mage stood, the Colossus of Darkness and Blood continued battling enemies that seemed endless. Even as she fought with ferocity and skill, she formed a third hand, pointing it toward the site of the explosion—where her little ones were.
…
At the center of the battlefield, Rey was the only one still breathing and able to move, though he was close to dying from the radioactive poison devouring him from the inside. Under the black rain, Dante and Jhades lay dead. It was for the best that Rey couldn't see, because death was not pretty when your brothers' internal organs were scattered across the ground. Broken bodies, missing limbs, unrecognizable faces—flesh, bone, and blood blended into the bare rocks.
Rey's ignorance did not last long. Suddenly, with a violent spurt of blood, his vision returned. Even though he was burned everywhere and unable to use his body's regeneration, he suddenly felt better, and saw his brothers return to how they had been.
Turning his head, Rey saw his mother. She was the one bringing them back to life and healing their wounds. She was using a lost elemental control, one with certain limits—and among those limits, the three guardians of Paradise were not included. "So my brothers went through the initiation process… I'm the one left," Rey thought. "Maybe if I'd died, I could have been happy about this and everything else."
"This is what they call radiation… I'm poisoned. With time, without treatment or external help, I'll probably die. I don't think it can get worse than this," he told himself. Rey opened his eyes; his vision was no longer as cloudy as before, and he became aware of something in his hands. Tears, streaming from enraged eyes—a torrent of water that would not stop. "No, no, no… you can't do this to me."
Maryam released his hand and went on fighting, but she was worried and could not hide it. What she feared most had happened and, despite being so far away, she could, for the first time, hear the desperate crying of the child who had not cried at birth. A mother's worry, feeling the pain of one of her children, had almost no limits—and the other two little ones were about to wake up. "How would they react if they found out their toys were broken too?" she wondered. "Maybe not as badly as Rey. They died and came back… they learned what it means to rest in peace. Still, loss is hard to bear at any age."
The Great Wise Mage, drifting through the sky with his hands folded behind his back, stopped beside the vampire and spoke to the suffering mother, who pressed her hands to her chest and let her tears fall to the ground.
"You don't need to make room for worry in your mind. This is the life they've been given, and they have the weapons they need to defend it and live it… I understand you can't do anything for the guardians, but perhaps I can."
Maryam, making the colossus bare its teeth and tongue to devour its enemies, added:
"Worry. A word so tangled up with responsibility… isn't that right?" she asked, dismembering another foe. "Aaaah, so many times a mother and I still haven't learned to set these feelings aside. I always regret it when I hear them cry… My chest tightens and my blood twists."
Then, in a harsher, scolding tone, she said:
"They're just broken toys. Learn the lesson…"
And returning to her grief-stricken cadence:
"I wish I could say that to them. But this guilt I feel—for having let my whims run wild, for the future I've dragged my children into, for the life I gave them, for forcing them to live a struggle they never asked for—won't let me be that hard."
Addressing the old man who waited so patiently, she said:
"Great Wise Mage, I ask you, please… help them."
…
The three youngsters stood up. Jhades and Dante, happy to have survived, ignored the fact that they had died for a few seconds. More than ignoring it, they had learned that death was nothing special to them. Dying simply meant resting in peace. In a life where pain translated directly into suffering, death had represented the absence of pain, and so also the absence of suffering.
Rey, on the other hand, with his breathing broken by sobs, was clutching something somewhat fleshy to his chest, covered in soot and ash—what was left of a pelt. The one who had never had the chance to leave life behind did not understand what his brothers understood. Maybe that was exactly why he felt so guilty about what had happened.
The more those white eyes saw, the more his mind ignored everything around him and sank into an abyss of darkness. Inside Rey, a solitary mirror reflected the boy's mood: neutral; eyes wide open, watching everything that happened. The fall of that delicate, reflective object in a place without a floor marked how permanent the damage being done would be.
Another sharp sound of shattering glass rang out, then another, and another. One for every new feeling that could exist in the personality of someone emotionally unstable. Negative hues became the colors of the image reflected back at the boy—an image that no longer showed a single face. Within each and every one of the hundreds of fragments, a reflection of its own, independent of the others, now appeared. As many shards as expressions a face could make. Expressions ruled by emotions that turned into chains, chains that for a moment claimed Rey's body and will as their prisoner, as he refused to let go.
One of the two floating orbs appeared inside Rey and its voice echoed among the countless crystals as it asked:
"How do we react?"
It was Melody. At the boy's ear she whispered a soft whistle meant to soothe him as she held several of the broken mirror pieces together.
"This is only the first of many experiences to come," said someone with a male voice, turning and walking away from the matter.
The other floating orb appeared and added another question:
"How do you show that you care?"
It was Memory, who set old memories drifting in the air.
Jolted back to the outside world by the tremors of the battle between colossi and giants, Rey could not stop his hands from shaking. Still in shock, his breathing sped up in step with his denial, which banished disbelief—disbelief that was then strangled by his clenched teeth. Confusion left, and on its way out it quite literally greeted anger and outrage, the ones that now took shape on that small face. Rey, broken by tears, said:
"Why? This was my battle, it was mine. I told you not to interfere… Why?!"
Dante, without his usual energy, his eyes filled with tears, placed his hand on Rey's shoulder. The wolf pup acted like someone who had accepted that his companion was gone—for in a way, not living was good. The wolf, remorseful, admitted he had been wrong, that it was not fun to gamble in situations no one could control. He also apologized for running off without looking back and added, with a cynical edge, that they should continue their escape.
No matter how much he spoke or how hard he tried to be empathetic, Dante eventually grew tired and shouted:
"Enough…!" He expelled what air was left in his lungs. "Father said it's not right to cry over something that served its purpose… it makes you look less invincible."
Filled with rage, Rey brushed his brother's hand from his shoulder. As he got to his feet with aggressive intent, he forced his voice to sound controlled:
"Something? Invincible? Do you have any idea what you're saying?!"
With his fist clenched, Rey punched his brother in the face and went on:
"Think before you talk, Dante. I already told you—so your good intentions don't end up making things worse. If you see me crying, it's because I lost someone of value, not 'something.'"
Rey was right. Deep down, Dante understood that going against his brother wouldn't help anything, and if Rey was crying, why should he hold himself back? Tears of pain spilled from the red eyes that no longer cared about keeping up any kind of appearance.
Looking to the side, he saw the dead body of his companion: that little furry kitten who had always been happy to see him and followed him everywhere, trying to be as strong as he was—naive and innocent, who admired him despite all his flaws. The face wrecked by crying reflected, before the bearer of the white eyes, the way the little wolf was finally showing what he felt inside.
On the contrary, as a sign of the grief he was going through, the whole tangle of expressive mechanisms inside the vampire let out a crooked, off-key ironic laugh. For someone with a selfish nature, it was normal to suffer when others were well—especially when that "well-being" was death itself. The offensive sound coming from the vampire made the two brothers turn their heads. Jhades was no different; in his hands he clutched what was left of his companion's body, the rest crushed to death between two rocks.
…
Melody whispered the following words into Rey's ear:
"Crying and laughing… expressive behaviors working as catharsis. They're all in the same situation; none of them knows how to act, or how to show the world that this really matters to them and that they don't want to accept the death of someone close. Let yourself cry if you need to, so you can get rid of what's weighing so heavily inside you, what's throwing your mental balance off."
Another voice, completely different, added:
"Be very careful with what you feel inside. That's what makes you imperfect and, in many cases, what will push you into making the wrong decisions."
…
Dante, giving up on getting to his feet, said:
"If we're not going to run away… what are we going to do?"
Right then, in response to the wolf pup's question, someone else burst out laughing. Not pleased at all, the three boys paid a bit more attention to their surroundings until they found the source.
Yacer was still alive.
Lying in the middle of the crater, without skin, flesh, or bones, all that remained was a metallic skull with a single mechanical eye.
The little vampire's behavior shifted the moment he realized one of the ones responsible for his pain was still alive. For the first time in Jhades's life, someone's mere existence stirred up a rejection born entirely from within. The negative feeling didn't just flood the vampire's insides—it spread like a swarm through the little wolf and the unwanted son as well. Antipathy, aversion, resentment, loathing, contempt, rage—hatred made all of that bloom inside the young ones at the sight of the laughing thing.
Jhades took on the form of the beast that slept inside him and hurled himself at Yacer without mercy. As soon as he stood in front of him, he pointed the gun at his head and said:
"You bastard… you have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy this…"
Bullet after bullet spat out from the smoking barrel. Shot after shot slammed into that skull, but no matter where they hit, they didn't silence that grating, infuriating laugh. Yacer, with no facial expressions left to make, said:
"Bastard, me? Yes… blessed to die, that's what I am. Bastards, you—condemned to live and feel the most powerful poison in humanity… my voice goes on, without bowing or dying," he said, even after the skull had been partially destroyed.
What was talking now was some sort of square speaker, which was why the voice sounded so distorted. Jhades ran out of bullets, yet the eerie eye kept twitching and tracking him with its tiny lens. The vampire wanted to stomp the fragment of bone under his heel until it turned to dust, but something stopped him before he could move.
Up in the sky, still black but behaving as if the invasion was nearing its end, the words spoken by the Great Wise Mage rang across the area:
"Missionary of a Thousand Souls."
The old man, strolling through the air without a trace of concern, summoned with his Calling a throne of black sapphire stone. Seated on the throne was the figure of a rotting corpse, one that had clearly once belonged to a graceful, beautiful, elegant woman. Dressed in burned rags and scorched flesh, cold and lifeless, the creature seemed to draw a breath as it rose to its feet.
Wherever it walked, it spread shadows, and its terrifying presence tugged on the chain looped around its waist—a chain that held a countless number of beings with no solid colors, no essence of life, no hint of matter.
Ching, ching. Shuiiiing, shuiiiing. Trink, trink. The chains rattled and slid.
"Aaah, back to work…" the creature murmured in a breathy voice, red eyes gleaming. "Aaah, stealing relief and bringing pain…"
Its neck twisted a full hundred and eighty degrees, the sound of dislocated bones echoing in the air, and at last… the unfathomable gaze of that pain-bringing being fixed itself on the three children.