"August!" Octavia shouted, her legs quivering as she staggered over blood-slicked tiles toward her brother's side. Crimson bathed him, yet he remained oddly serene amidst the gore.
"I'm fine, Octavia!" August said as he turned around and met Octavia's gaze with a warm smile. Yes, it was his usual warm, genuine smile, but in this situation it just did not fit. It was like an innocent, brand new doll standing in the centre of a gothic, abandoned mansion.
"H-how...?" She asked, her voice cracking.
"Oh, that?" He gestured casually at the mutilated Clawback beast. The group's gazes were drawn to the macabre scene - limbs torn, entrails strewn like party streamers.
Martin smirked. With John gone and this little brat here, they would be fine. August seemed like someone he could control after all, but John? No, he was a feral beast, there was no controlling him.
Martin grabbed a brand-new towel from the stalls and said, "Here," passing the towel to August.
"Thank you!" August said, his demeanour still too genuine for what had just happened.
"August!" Octavia called, frustration seeping into her tone. "I asked you a question!"
"It's just a Skill from the System, Octavia. Don't worry about it," he said, dismissing her.
Rage burned within Octavia, her features distorting. She was not used to her little brother's dismissive attitude, but before she could say anything, Dalia began to scream in panic and panic struck Julia's face who was still beside her.
Unable to do anything, Octavia could only stare as Dalia spasmed. Darting her gaze across the room, scanning everyone's faces and no matter how much she pondered about it, she couldn't help but think something was seriously wrong with August.
Amidst this nightmare, her brother's cheerful nonchalance chilled Octavia to the bone. How could anyone remain so detached? At worst, his expression might be grave, but this? His eerie delight was wholly unnatural.
Octavia's thoughts broke as crashing sounds erupted from the store's entrance. John hurtled in, shoving debris aside heedlessly. A glint of pink liquid sloshed in a glass bottle gripped tightly in his hand.
"Get out of my way!" he bellowed, barreling towards Dalia's fading form. The group scrambled to clear a path, shaken from their stupors by John's explosive reappearance.
Julia's face lit up seeing John, then tightened with alarm. He resembled a walking ruby, so drenched in scarlet he seemed a bloodied bed of roses after a storm. Cuts and gashes adorned his body.
Further away from the group, Martin clicked his tongue. His plan was foiled, he would have to put up with John for a little longer, but this small event didn't escape Octavia's perception. She began to understand a little bit more about this group they had just met.
John rushed to Dalia's side, droplets of crimson trailing behind. He knelt and cradled her head softly. "Dalia," he urged, desperate to rouse her.
Her eyelids fluttered yet remained sealed. "Drink this," John insisted, tilting the glimmering potion to her pale lips. Sensing fading embers of life, he pried open her mouth and administered the Health Potion carefully.
Octavia observed with interest. Where had he gone and why had he returned looking like he'd been shredded through a meat grinder? She'd lost all concept of time during the chaos. Ten minutes since he left? Thirty? The attack had rattled her usually unflappable poise.
Yet here John was, materialising potions out of thin air with an aura of assurance. Octavia found her fascination growing. Just what other tricks did this intense man have up his sleeve? He seemed to eclipse even August's bizarre powers.
As the liquid entered Dalia's system, the group observed silently. As she drank the last drops, John materialised another bottle out of thin air. Octavia's eyebrows raised further and she had almost forgotten about August. John seemed even more intriguing with every second.
"Julia, remove the cloth and lift her shirt," he directed. Julia could guess what he was about to do and did as she was told. She was growing accustomed to believing in John's confidence.
Julia lifted Dalia's blood-soaked shirt with trembling hands. Dalia whimpered as the fabric peeled off her torn flesh.
John carefully angled the bottle, allowing the mysterious liquid to coat the wounds. It sizzled on contact, eliciting cries from Dalia as it bubbled over shredded skin and muscle.
Observing intently, John noted gradual regeneration occurring before his eyes. The process seemed agonizingly slow, but steady visible progress marked each passing minute.
"What now?" Julia asked as Dalia's wails quieted to whimpers.
"Now we wait," John replied, settling down cross-legged, ready to stand vigil by Dalia's side.
As he relaxed his guard briefly, the mangled corpse of a second Clawback entered his view. With a start, he noticed August and Octavia drenched in blood.
"What happened here?" John demanded, gaze darting between the gore-spattered siblings. An uneasy silence greeted his query. No one seemed willing to explain the violent scene that had unfolded in his absence.
Seeing as no one was answering, John surveyed the room once more. He noticed two things. August's entire body was covered in blood and there was a much smaller amount of blood on Octavia's face.
He had cooked up a narrative already, but it seemed implausible. He did not think August was strong. If he was, he would've helped with the first Clawback. The strong one was Octavia, but the evidence said she was away from the beast at the moment it died.
"August, right?" John stared him down.
"Yup, that's me!" August replied with a disconcerting cheer.
"You killed this beast?" John questioned, eyebrow raised sceptically.
"Ahh...yeah, I did!" August admitted, tone oddly hesitant.
He was right after all, but how? As he observed Octavia's expression, he surmised that this was a shock to her as well.
John's suspicion grew. A timid boy spontaneously manifesting hidden strength? And intentionally concealing it even from his own sister? This reeked of a familiar archetype, though John couldn't recall where he'd encountered it before. Regardless, he didn't like the implications.
Before he could probe further, a raspy groan silenced the room. Dalia shifted, vision blurred, taking in the shadowy forms around her. Relief washed over her spotting John whole.
"What...happened?" Dalia croaked.
As John drew closer, he knelt down, resting his hand on he shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
"How are you feeling?" He asked. Dalia smiled, his concern transmitted a warmth through her. Despite her lingering disorientation, his sincerity brought a faint smile to Dalia's face. She clasped his hand in gratitude, only to be interrupted by the sharp thud of approaching footsteps.