I watched in astonishment as the boy walked towards me. His hands were casually behind his back. "What's your name?" He asked, examining me with a gaze I somehow recognised.
"Exxo." I replied, the power in his voice familiar. Similar to that Mistress who ordered their death. The boy frowned, confusion flashing across his features.
"Is that your real name?" He asked, concern lacing his voice against his will.
"It is the only one I know," I replied, wondering where he was planning on going with this.
The boy turned slightly and walked towards me with only the slightest of measurements. I watched his steps warily. If he was going to attack me, this was a poor strategy to do it.
"Are you sure?" The boy asked, frowning slightly, his gaze casting onto the ground. I managed to pull up some hatred for the boy—he had no right to ask me such questions. Even if I did have another name, what was it to him?
"Why do you even care? I've been assigned to kill you!" I say, trying to make him snap out of it. Whatever he was doing, this boy seemed to be attempting to do something to me. Hypnosis? I had no idea at this point.
"Assigned?" The boy echoed. "You've been assigned to kill me?" He asked.
I nodded. "The Mistress told me that I had been given powers only I could wield, which meant that I had to be given the right orders," I said, revisiting those memories.
"What else did she say?" The boy asked, nodding as if my reaction to this was good.
"She said that because I was most powerful, only she could give me orders. Then she stabbed a syringe into my upper arm and I knew that her words were everything." I looked carefully at the boy as I said this.
I blinked in shock when I saw his expression. It was utter hatred, fury burned in his eyes and darkening storm clouds thundered around his face. It was nothing like I'd ever seen. Maybe he planned on fighting me now.
"What would you say if I told you I was more powerful than that woman?" He snarled.
I took a step. "That is not possible, no one can defeat her. She is only in this world."
The boy chortled and I looked, momentarily, over at the girl. She seemed just as clueless as I. Maybe she was faking it—to make me feel that my reaction was called for. That me not fighting back was natural against his overwhelming demeanour.
"Do you really think a truly powerful person would need to tell someone that they were powerful? Your Mistress," He snarled. "She is desperate because she knows that I exist. She wants my power—and you're a puppet on some strings that supposedly will get her there."
I scowled and wondered if she really was like that. I didn't ask the question though. I knew that only I would find out who was more powerful now—I had to fight him.
I grimaced when his face fell as I reopened my palms. I felt the blood drop onto the floor once again. I held my breath, I didn't need to speak anymore—there were no words for how my command would be carried out. It would have to happen.
"I'm sorry," I began, looking up at him through my lashes, not wanting him to see the remorse on my face. "But it doesn't matter whether you're more powerful or not—you just have to have the will to get a job done." I looked back down at my hands.
"That's all it is," I said simply.
I then flicked my bloody whip across the boy's face. He was void of emotion as it scraped a gash from his cheekbone to his upper lip. It healed before my eyes. I gaped, he most definitely was powerful. But so was I.
I walked up to him and punched him in the gut, he doubled over coughing liquid too dark to be blood—but it couldn't be anything else. "Fight me!" I shouted, kicking him in the same spot.
He shook his head. "I can't fight you." He muttered.
"Why can't you fight me?!" I shout, I felt like an army General. Screaming my commands into whatever face I liked because I knew they would obey me.
"Because," He began. "You're Archer Crawsley, and I can't afford to lose someone I love to the Vaxxine Squad, again."
I frowned but continued to shout. "Well you've got no other choice—I'm not going anywhere and neither are you!" I take a deep breath and kneel down beside him.
"Prove to me that she's wrong—prove to me that I'm wrong to follow her…get up and fight!" I had to shout the last word if he was going to need inspirational speeches every time he lost confidence in himself—the last word before battle needs to be emphasised.
He groaned and took my open hand, his blue eyes sparked and he pulled me forwards into him. Landing a solid punch in my gut. "To return the favour." He muttered.
He pushed me away and I stumbled backwards, barely succeeding at keeping myself on my feet. "Very well," He said. "Because you asked me so kindly to—I will fight you." He flashed me a quick smile. "Be on your guard." He warned.
Then he disappeared. I frowned and located his heart, still pumping at the same beat…maybe a little faster. But it was how fast it was circling me that shocked me. Was he running?!
However, it didn't matter how fast he moved because I could tell where he was. At all times. I closed my eyes and lashed out, flinging all of my arm strength into it. He hissed but didn't stop running. I kept my eyes closed. This time I would use both my whips. I pinpointed where he was and l thrashed the whip, swiping for his knees. It hit. he kept running as I assumed.
I swung harshly and felt the whip crack somewhere on his back. He let out a muffled shout of shock. I opened one eye and saw him standing in front of me as if he'd never gone running.
"Thanks." He taunts. I blink but don't react. If I do, it ruins how this fight could end. I open both eyes, knowing he wouldn't run anymore. He would attack me head-on.
I don't react as he seems to drag mist from his palms, in the way I did with my blood. I don't react when he gathers the mist into floating balls around him, and soon, he's covered up completely. I frowned and waited for him to come to me.
The cloud moved towards me and before I knew a powerful kick flew, aiming for my chest. I dodged it and lashed out. But my attacks didn't make contact. I considered that maybe I should change my weapon. Whips were effective—but in this battle, it required a close fight.
I muttered one command under my breath and I watched contentedly as the blood morphed and shifted into a twin pair of swords. I continued to effectively dodge every kick and punch the boy threw at me. I then struck into the mist with one of my swords and waited for him to cry out, to alert me I had hit something. In a cloud of mist—it was hard to tell what was what.
Then a hand reached out and pulled me in, by the sword. The boy grabbed my swords and pulled me in. I couldn't hide my shock at that move—did he not feel pain in the same way others did?
I wiped the emotion off my face as soon as his figure come into view. He looked at my defensive stance and sighed. I watched in utter shock as he floated towards me, grabbing my hands and healing the cuts in my palm. The swords disappeared.
"What—" I began. He silenced me with a look. I stayed quiet. He let go of my hands and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. As if he didn't want to do what he was about to do.
"Listen," he started. "I know you're in there." I frowned, not sure if he was talking to me or someone else. I was myself, I wasn't hiding anything.
I placed a hand over my heart, it seemed to unnaturally throb. I looked back up at the boy and suddenly wanted to know what he was talking about. I wanted to relate to the words that poured from his mouth.
"I keep thinking that you're in front of me, but then I remember what Miyoko did to you and it all comes back to me. I can't help but want to take you far away from here, but here is all you seem to know at the moment." I watched, partially mesmerised as he hides half of his face behind his hand. "Please, Archer I know you're in there, so give me a sign—anything. I just want to bring you home." A tear falls.
"But I can't unless you prove to me you're still here."
Silence. I stared at him and, for once in the time since I'd woken up, I understood what he was going through. "I—I don't know what you're talking about," I said quietly, internally shouting at myself to speak up—to tell him that I could feel what he was saying. If only I could obey another's order. I would gladly obey his. But I didn't know why.
I looked away from him, closing off from his vulnerable state. I couldn't watch his face fall. I couldn't. He seemed to be trying to reach deep inside of me, to find something I didn't think was there.
But how did I feel so relaxed with him, it was unnaturally so. I felt as if I should hug this boy in front of him. But I'd been ordered to kill him.
So I needed to stop letting my emotions get in the way. I couldn't obey. Even if he was more powerful.