[Author's Note: Hey, Author here. Just a little note that this chapter has a bit of gore. Normally that isn't a big deal, but some of the contents in the chapter could be a bit disturbing. I mean, you probably won't be affected by it, but this is just a heads-up.]
"Teacher…?" A confused voice called out. Jean, standing at the other end of the room, stared wide-eyed at the intruder.
"Boy! You know who this is?!" The sentinel's voice was a harsh bark, his attention snapping to Jean.
"He-He is our—" Jean's mumbling response was cut short as dozens of water spears materialized out of thin air and hurtled toward him with deadly precision. "Curse it!"
Jean cried out, pulling Anne behind him, shielding her from the attack.
As the water spears barreled forward, everyone other than Anne began to morph. Their bodies twisted and contorted, grotesque transformations overtaking them until they stood as towering grey giants.
Their pulsating grey skin, the sickly smell of noxious breath—Claude recognized them all too well.
These… things. These monsters!
Jean, Jacques, everyone... had become one of them.
The barrage of spears struck the giants, piercing their flesh, but their wounds healed quickly, leaving only superficial wounds. Worse, they began to replicate, creating more of the hideous creatures.
But Claude paid no heed.
His eyes gleamed with a manic light as the puddles of water formed by his attack scattered and thickened into a dense, enveloping mist.
"I wish you all a wonderful journey…" Claude spoke, yet, his eyes dripped with malice. "To hell."
Hiss!
The mist began to bubble and boil, the room filling with an unbearable heat. Screams of agony pierced the air, violent and guttural, like animals caught in a snare.
They wailed and howled, their cries rising in pitch until they broke into rasping coughs. No words were spoken, but anyone who heard their cries could imagine their torment.
The sound of claws scraping desperately against stone followed—panicked thrashing in a vain attempt to escape the searing pain.
Monstrous cries. Wet, raspy breaths. The gurgle of choking lungs. Claude's lips curled into a grin as he watched.
From experience, he knew that these creatures' internal organs were usually not resistant to extreme temperatures. Their flesh may heal, but their insides would not.
Beads of sweat rolled down Claud's brow as waves of heat assaulted him. Yet, his mind remained still. There was nothing left to care about. No satisfaction, no pleasure.
Where was the victory?
Where was the sweet release of revenge?
All he found was emptiness, a vast and hollow void, stretching endlessly within him.
The mist dissipated. Where once there had been looming giants, only distorted, crimson-streaked corpses remained. Their skin had bubbled and burst and their flesh had atrophied and sloughed off like melted wax.
Faces twisted into masks of agony, mouths open in silent screams. Eyes, now milky and lifeless, stared into the void, their features unrecognizable.
Except for one.
In the centre of the room stood a single grey figure, swaying and barely able to hold itself upright. The tattered remains of its clothes, fused with its burnt flesh, gave away its identity.
Jean.
His body quivered, trembling from the effort it took just to stand, but still, he held something in his arms. His last, desperate act of defiance.
As he collapsed, a small bundle tumbled from his grasp.
Claude froze, his breath catching in his throat.
It was Anne.
The little girl, despite being drenched in sweat, with skin as flushed as the shrimps nobles dined on in their lavish banquets, crawled towards her brother.
"No… no, no, no…" Her voice cracked as she shook him, tiny hands clinging to his burnt skin. "Jean, please… get up."
Claude took a step forward, a clenched fist by his side.
"Step away," he commanded, his voice hollow.
Anne didn't move. She was trembling, but even so, she clung to Jean, her head shaking furiously. Her gesture grew firmer as Claude approached, more defiant.
Mia…
The now unfamiliar name drifted to the surface of his mind.
He saw her again. A small girl with big, curious eyes, was tugging at his sleeve, begging him to teach her something new. She used to follow him everywhere, laughing, full of life.
Claude clenched his fists, shaking away the memory. Mia was dead, and so was any trace of the quiet village life he had once cherished. That life was over.
Without another word, Claude summoned a hand of water and flung Anne away, sending her small frame skidding across the floor like a discarded doll.
Now, nothing stood between him and Jean.
"So, this was it…" Claude muttered, his voice low, detached. "Things like that… they don't just appear out of nowhere." His thoughts spun, a mix of anger and clarity. Those horse-like monsters… Jean and people like him had invited it all, for what?
To satisfy their desires?
To save their loved ones?
Claude's heart was cold, his mind colder still.
Why did that matter to him?
Why should he suffer for someone else's pain? Or, for their greed?
All he had ever wanted was a simple life. A small, peaceful existence surrounded by friends and family. But that was gone now, a dream as distant as the stars in the sky.
Water pooled around Claude's hand, swirling into a shimmering blade. With a simple thrust, he plunged the blade toward Jean's motionless body.
Squelch!
But it didn't just pierce Jean. A tiny figure, standing between them, had taken the hit.
Claude stared down, his heart stopping for a brief second. Anne… She had thrown herself in front of her brother.
The room fell into a suffocating silence. Claude's hand trembled. He stared at the impaled child, her eyes wide with shock, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
She fell, collapsing in a crumpled heap next to Jean, her small body limp and lifeless. The void within Claude grew, swallowing him whole. This should have meant something. He should have felt something—sorrow, guilt, regret. Anything.
But yet... there was nothing.
Just nothing.
Whizz!
The sound of steel slicing through the air broke the stillness. Claude barely reacted as a blade came swinging toward him, but with a flick of his wrist, a disc of water formed, deflecting the attack with ease.
"Really?" His voice was calm, unnervingly so. Whilst his mind was slow to react, his body was not, it turned to face the assailant. "You think I wouldn't notice the absence of your corpse? Right… sentinel?"