The worst had been over, and Virgil's next breath was with relief. The new guy and Michael were alive, but incapacitated. All he had to do now was treat his wounded people and return to the demon hunter hideout. So, Virgil made his way to Michael and began to release him from his chains; metal clanking clashed with the demon hunter's grunts for a stronger presence in the room. After a moment, Michael was set free and was carried in Virgil's arms– a blade still lodged in his chest.
"You guys can come in, now," he called out.
On cue, the rest of the band entered the throne room, and their collective responses of shock upon seeing their leader being impaled prompted Virgil to explain:
"He's alive, don't worry. Not even this can kill Michael."
Then a look of concern shifted to their newest recruit: Lucius.
"He's alive, too," the impromptu leader reassured.
"WOO! I knew you'd be alive, man! I mean, I had my doubts at first, 'cause you seemed dead dead," a voice from the crowd called out. The signature loudness and unnecessary chatter could only belong to one person: Noel.
And Noel removed himself from the crowd and made his way towards an unconscious Lucius.
"I got you, man," he muttered before hoisting the beaten demon hunter over his shoulder with the sword affixed to his back. "Shit, dude, you're heavy. Or maybe it's just your sword."
Noel turned to face the one carrying Michael.
"Thanks for catching me when I fell out the window, Virgil. You're a real life-saver. Literally."
"You didn't fall out. You we–"
"No, no, no. I fell out," he sternly affirmed.
A sigh of annoyance escaped Virgil.
"Alright, let's get out of here. We're all bloodied up. We need some rest," a statement validated by the audible agreements from the group. And so began their path out of the castle. No words were shared amongst them; a habit of theirs when they travel.
And when they made their way through the civilian-littered streets, their seeds of labor blossomed into a crescendo of applause, much to the collective smiles of the group. Their goal was to rescue Michael, but they had also freed the people from demonic terrorism. Their fearful eyes from before had turned into ones of admiration.
And just before they left the walled city, Virgil stopped walking.
"Wait. I have an idea. Here, hold Michael for a bit," he instructed a member of the group before making his way back inside the city as the rest of the group watched.
Virgil held his hands out, silencing the cheers. And when it was totally silent, he began a speech:
"You are free now. You may choose to stay here and enjoy life while you can, but know this: demons will come again. I can tell each of you have been wronged by a demon in some way– especially by the one named Cain. Or, you can join our cause as demon hunters and do to them what they've done to you. There's a chance you'll die either way, but the difference is: if you join us, you'll be able to do something about it. It's your choice."
Silence swept over the civilian group, until a man completely covered in bandages and a distinctly deep voice came forth.
"I'm a blacksmith. I want to join your cause. I'll make any weapon for you so long as you take out that bastard Cain," he spoke with potent bitterness in his tone.
Virgil surmised Cain was the reason the man was covered in bandages, and he sympathized.
"Welcome aboard, blacksmith. I assure you, that demon will pay for his sins. Anyone else?"
"For saving us," a voice in the crowd spoke, "and for what those demons have done to us, we're all with you." The crowd nodded and let off various hmms, for they shared that sentiment.
"Say," another one spoke, "you've got some injured people. Why don't you stay here and let us treat them? There's medics with their supplies here."
A few medics removed themselves from the crowd.
Virgil turned to the demon hunter group before shrugging and facing the crowd once more. There was a chance demon reinforcements may come, but his people getting proper care would be beneficial.
He would take that risk.
"That'd be great. Guess we'll be here for a while. Alright," he declared while turning to his group, "take Michael and the new guy to a medic. Everyone else, I implore you to take it easy."
The people scattered and intermingled, and Noel made his way to one of the medics with Lucius on his back.
"Hey, think you can take care of 'em?" he asked while turning to show his back, and thus more of Lucius's injuries.
"Damn, he got beat up," she muttered to himself as she circled Noel, examining Lucius's injuries.
"Hey," Noel reminded her.
"Ooh, sorry. Yeah, I can fix that."
"Great! Where would I put him?"
"The hospital. It's far from here. Follow me," she instructed.
A few minutes of walking–not far from here, Noel thought–and the two entered the city's hospital; a marble room with several beds lined up and accompanied with medical supplies. Placed on one of the beds was Michael, who had several medics working on him.
"No idea how that guy is alive," the medic commented. "Anyway, put him on this bed." With a grunt of effort, Noel tossed Lucius onto the bed; its white sheets were quickly stained with his blood.
Noel's carelessness did not go over well with the medic.
"Are you out of your mind? This is my patient, so unless you want to mend his injuries, I suggest you be a little more careful, 'kay?"
"Sheesh, my bad," Noel muttered while rubbing the back of his head.
An exasperated exhale and the medic gathered her supplies to begin working on Lucius's injuries. Noel hung back and observed.
"Man," he whispered to himself, "when are you gonna wake up, Lucius?"