Fritz looked extra confused as he looked around the room he found himself in.
"W-what the hell do you mean?"
Kirchner smiled softly as he looked at his cowering reflection.
"Do you have any idea what it's like?" Kirchner's voice waned for a moment. "I had my dream life, her dream! To keep me safe, to help people, and yet somehow you were born. I don't know when we split, but you took my dream." The boys words dripped with disdain.
Fritz could only stare, stunned by the harsh words, a confusing mix of anger and guilt bubbling within him. "I... I didn't ask for this," he managed to stutter out, his voice barely a whisper in the stark whiteness.
"Neither did I," Kirchner snarled, his blue eyes hardening. "You were given everything that was meant to be mine. And for what? A life of running and hiding?"
The air between them crackled with tension, the enormity of Kirchner's bitterness filling the room. Fritz wished he could defend himself, wished he had words that would defuse the resentment festering between them. But all he could do was stand there, silent and helpless under Kirchner's accusing gaze.
Outside their shared mind space, the real world continued its unforgiving pace. Mack tightened his grip on Rose as her struggles weakened, her panicked breaths transforming into short gasps for air. Carl held Viktor down with an iron grip, unable to hide the smug smile that curled on his lips.
"I must say," Carl whispered to the unconscious boy beneath him. "I expected more resistance."
Meanwhile, at Neel's campsite, his men laid restless under the dark canopy of the forest. The silence of the night was punctuated with hushed whispers and nervous rustling as they waited for any sign from their comrades in Hoff Village.
Neel remained at his spot by the dying fire, his gaze cast towards Viktor's distant cottage. His thoughts were a tempest of calculations and predictions - every outcome weighed and meticulously taken apart.
His second-in-command, a gruff man named Trist, approached him quietly. "Do you think they've done it yet, boss?" he asked, his voice barely a ripple in the stillness of the night.
"Let's hope so," Neel responded without turning to face him. "For their sake."
Back in the Fritz household, Carl and Mack swiftly bound their captives, their movements practiced and methodical. They were professionals in a dark trade, their goals as clear as the night sky above them. They shared a brief glance and nodded at each other - the operation was going as planned.
Inside his mind, Fritz was trying to reason with Kirchner. "I didn't take anything from you," he argued back, his voice shaking as he spoke. "I was born like this...I had no control over it!" His words hung heavily in the vast white expanse between them.
Kirchner scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your ignorance doesn't change your guilt." His eyes glinted dangerously in the ethereal glow of the room.
"Neither does your anger validate your blame," Fritz shot back, gaining courage from somewhere within him.
An ominous silence descended upon them as they locked gazes - two halves of a whole, divided by fate and circumstance. Their inner conflict mirrored outside as Carl and Mack began to move their captives towards the door.
Just before they reached it, there was a sudden commotion outside. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the silent house followed by an urgent knock on the front door.
Carl's hand immediately went for his weapon while Mack shielded Rose with his body. They waited with bated breath as the knocking stopped.
"Eric! Rose! It's Father Oren, I saw the men at your door, and I simply wanted to ask if all was alright."
"Damn, it's the priest!" Carl hissed. He glanced at Mack, curtly nodding towards the front door. "Get rid of him."
Mack gave a tight-lipped nod, quickly standing up and leaving the room in quiet hasty steps, leaving Carl alone with the unconscious Rose and Viktor.
Inside his shared dream space, Fritz could feel something changing, a shift in the air around him. The edges of his vision blurred, the stark white room wavering as if under intense heat.
"What's happening?" he asked Kirchner, his voice trembling with fear.
"I'm not sure," Kirchner admitted, uncertainty flicking across his face for the first time. "But I think... we're waking up."
Back in reality, Father Oren knocked again, louder this time. "Eric! Rose!" he called out, worry lacing his voice. His instincts as a man of the cloth and as a part of the village were screaming that something was wrong.
At Neel's campsite, Trist looked up from the map he'd been studying. A slight frowning crease marked his forehead as he turned to regard his leader. "Boss," he began cautiously. "You don't think Father Oren stumbled upon our plan, do you?"
Neel glanced at him with a cryptic smile. "Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised." He seemed unperturbed by this new development, his gaze focused on the distant patch of forest where Hoff Village lay.
Inside the house, Carl gave Mack a curt nod before moving towards the door stealthily while Mack continued shielding Rose with his body while also trying to rouse Viktor from unconsciousness.
As Father Oren was about to knock again, Carl opened the door ever so slightly, in his hand a black powder pistol.
"Sorry, Father," Carl muttered, taking aim through the narrow crack in the door. His finger tightened on the trigger, ready to end the priest's life swiftly and silently.
But before he could pull it, there was a sudden blur of movement. An unseen force swung the door wide open, causing Carl to stumble back in surprise. His pistol went off with an echoing bang, the bullet ricocheting off the stone doorstep and into the dark night.
Kirchner mumbled something under his breath which promptly led Fritz to vanish from their shared mind space instantly.
Now standing in between the barrel of the gun and Father Oren was that brown-eyed boy.
"V-Viktor!?"
Viktor stood tall, his chest bare under the open night sky, his brown eyes reflecting the glow of the moon above. He looked at Carl, a slow smile creeping onto his face.
"Hello sir," he said calmly.
Carl stuttered, lowering his pistol. "How…?"
Viktor shrugged nonchalantly. "I woke up."
Mack's voice echoed from inside the house, panic resonating in every syllable. "Carl! What's happening?"
Carl didn't answer; he was too entranced by Viktor's stare to do anything but gape silently in return. Viktor stepped aside, revealing Father Oren behind him. The priest's brow was furrowed in confusion and concern.
In the shared mindscape, Fritz found himself alone amongst the stark whiteness. His heart pounded in his chest, thudding against his ribs as if trying to break free.
Back at Neel's campsite, Trist's frown deepened as he heard the distant shot echoing through the forest. "That was a gunshot," he said, unease manifesting into full-blown worry now.
"I know," Neel replied coolly, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. He stood up and paced towards the edge of the forest facing Hoff Village.
In the Fritz household, Mack emerged from within to find Viktor standing at the door, alive and well. The sight left him dumbfounded and momentarily paralyzed.
Viktor turned towards him and said with an eerie calmness, "Time for you gentlemen to leave."
Mack and Carl exchanged glances - their plan had suddenly fallen apart like a castle made of sand. They stared at Viktor, their minds racing with questions and fear. Viktor's stare was unwavering, a clear warning in his eyes. He had control now.
Carl fumbled with his pistol, the metallic click-clack of its mechanics echoing loudly in the silent night. His hand trembled as he holstered it, his gaze never leaving Viktor.
Mack stepped forward, his hand slowly reaching for his sword, but a sharp glance from Viktor made him retract it.
Father Oren finally spoke, his voice firm but shaky. "Viktor," he began, studying the boy before him with a mixture of relief and confusion. "What is happening here?"
Viktor didn't answer immediately; instead, he stepped aside and motioned for Father Oren to enter the house. Rose lay unconscious on the floor, her face pale and her breathing shallow.
The priest gasped at the sight before rushing to her side. He touched her icy forehead and whispered a quick prayer under his breath.
Viktor walked to Mack gesturing him to kneel down, out of fear Mack quickly followed the boy's orders.
"I don't want any blood in their beautiful home. But I swear to the Gods, if she's hurt in any shape or fashion besides that bruise I will rip you and your gang apart. I can sense your masters and… her." Viktor whispered his voice trailing off.
The pink-haired brat from Eldridge, she was still alive? Viktor thought biting down on his nails for a moment.
Viktor let the threat hang in the cold night air, his eyes locked onto Mack's in a silent challenge. Mack swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling as dry as dust. The boy standing before him was unlike any foe he'd ever faced. Viktor was no longer the quiet village boy they had deemed weak and unthreatening only days ago. Before them stood an avenger, resolute and unflinching.
Carl's gaze slipped from Viktor to Father Oren, who was now gently cradling Rose's head in his lap. The priest was muttering a prayer under his breath, his hands working over the woman's bruised face and body as if he could heal her with mere touch. Carl's heart hammered in his chest, the heavy beat nearly drowning out the sounds of the night around them.
Elsewhere in their shared mind space, Fritz wandered aimlessly, his fear growing with every moment. The stark whiteness of this place had once been soothing, but now it felt cold and unforgiving. "Kirchner?" he called out into the emptiness, but received no answer.
Back in the forest, Neel turned to his second in command, Trist, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "Whatever is happening over there," he said quietly, "it just might be to our advantage."
Trist frowned at this remark, but said nothing more. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the distant flickering light of Hoff village.
Viktor maintained his cold stare on Mack while addressing Carl over his shoulder. "And you," he growled, "You will tell your leader to leave our village before anything more happens."
Carl hesitated before giving a curt nod. His sweat-streaked hand fumbled again for the safety of pistol tucked into his waistband. A strangely comforting weight amidst all this chaos.
"Viktor, Rose… Her temperature is rising greatly!" Father Oren shouted.
Viktor's eyes flicked momentarily towards the priest, worry tingeing his otherwise cold gaze. He quickly turned his attention back to Mack and Carl. "Leave. Now," he commanded, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried a threat that even dumbstruck Mack could understand.
Mack nodded feebly, backing away from Viktor slowly before turning and sprinting towards the edge of the village with Carl close on his heels. The dust kicked up by their hurried escape hung in the air, mixing with the tension that had been left behind.
With them gone, Viktor quickly moved to Rose's side. Father Oren was working fervently over her, worry etched deep into his face. "She's burning up," he murmured, glancing at Viktor with fear in his eyes.
"I know," Viktor replied grimly. He knelt beside Rose, laying a hand gently on her forehead. She was indeed burning up; her skin scorching to the touch. Her breathing was ragged and each breath she took resulted in a gut-wrenching wince or a soft moan of pain.
Using his fingers he signed a sigil that glowed lightly above her before a suppressed smile appeared on his face.
"Father, please watch her."
Viktor said, rising from the floor. His face had grown ashen, and his hands trembled slightly. He turned to leave the room, but paused at the door. "I must fetch something."
Father Oren watched Viktor leave, his eyes full of worry but his mouth set in a firm line. He would not leave Rose's side now. The cleric looked back at the unconscious woman, her face so young and yet so marred by pain. He whispered another prayer, this one filled with more urgency than the last.
Outside, Mack and Carl ran through the silent streets of Hoff Village, their breaths ragged and their hearts pounding with fear. They could feel Viktor's threat hanging over them like a dark cloud, a promise of impending doom if they dared cross him again.
Next Chapter:40-Unveiled