Erik looked at the unconscious lackey. Something was weird about this person. The red mist in his chest bubbled, like it was trying to tell him something, but he couldn't tell what it was.
"Keep track of him." He said while walking toward the alley the lackey ran out from. Collum and Mallory followed, vigilant, ready to protect the young master. Their instincts suddenly started pulsating. They dashed forward, standing in front of Erik, making him stop as he looked at the two with a raised eyebrow.
But they weren't looking at him as they stared at the alley, like some dangerous creature had settled there, making the alley its home and was waiting for its prey. Collum gripped the giant sword tightly as he gave Mallory a look, who nodded. He felt that being in there was something that they might not contend against. His guts were telling him that if they went in there, it would be the last thing they'd ever do. He then turned to Erik and said, "It's not safe, young master. We should call the general."
Erik's eyebrows raised further. He stared at them, seeing their serious expression, fell into contemplation. Honestly, he didn't feel any of the "not safe" they talked about. His intuition might be weak, but there was something else that was telling him it was safe, a feeling that came from his heart. Like, an essential part of the cogwheel that he needed might be in there.
Collum and Mallory stood guard by him, the feeling they got from the alley dreaded them, just as they thought they were safe they felt their souls leaving their body.
Erik walked past them, turned the corner, and vanished from their sight. Both were shocked and, even trained, took a moment for them to come out of their daze. They turned to one another, unwillingness visible in their eyes, but now they had to.
'Why are the Frostbornes always this reckless?' Collum said to himself as he rushed inside, suppressing his discomfort as much as he could, heck he even closed his eyes for a moment as he turned to corners, a little humiliating and idiotic, but he didn't care. He said out loud, "Young master, take cover."
There was no reply. Collum's eyebrows scrunched, and he slowly opened his eyes, just to squint them, become the things differed from what he expected. There seemed to be a predator, but it was gone, there were only bodies it left behind, likely it had its meal and didn't want to bother with them. He internally heaved a relieved sigh, but his eyebrows scrunched as his mouth corner turned a little down.
Mallory had the same expression. Their senses were quiet now. A false alarm? That was not right. They suppressed their curiosity for the moment and looked at the mangled bodies and then turned to Erik, this display of gore didn't affect them much. They have seen enough bloodbaths, this much doesn't surprise them, well maybe the killer seems to have a vendetta, that he/she tore open one, plucked their hearts and such.
"I'll call the guards."
Collum said, nodding at Mallory, and after he got a positive reply from her, he was gone. Erik was still standing there, not moving one bit. Mallory thought he might be shocked after seeing such a display and wanted to comfort him but stopped.
'This might be the experience he needs,' she thought and stayed behind, vigilant.
If only she could've seen him from the front, she would've changed her mind, she would've noticed a slice over Erik's right hand, closing slowly as tendrils of the thing, the one that made their guts and senses turn haywire, slowly vanishing into his hand. The slit then closed like it was never there.
Erik could feel the thing moving up in his arm toward his chest, like his arm was a stream, and it was a fish that moved with the flow, it moved up without any blockade or resistance. Strangely, he didn't feel any repulse or fear from it. It felt familiar, like it was a part of his own, and it was returning to its rightful place.
"Uhhh*"
A groan sounded, breaking Erik's concentration over the creature, and he looked toward the source and soon found the owner of that groan. He didn't know what to say to this guy.
Mallory followed him and found a wounded young man, or a boy, almost on the brink of death. He was bruised up to a state where no one could tell who he was, if not for Erik's trait, he would have been in the same boat.
Erik looked at Mallory, who, like receiving the order without Erik saying a word, walked forward, took out a piece of paper and was about to place it over his chest.
"Let me," Erik said. Mallory stopped, looked at him with one eyebrow raised, but didn't question and handed him the paper as she moved to the side.
Erik put it over Valcroy's chest and tore it down, vertically. A warm ray of light covered him, his wounds closing at a visible rate. He was out of danger, but still needed further medical attention.
Mallory could now tell who the wounded person really was as the bruises healed up a bit. She took a deep breath, 'Isn't he..' She stopped as she saw Erik putting Valcroy over his shoulder and walking away.
'What's so special about this squire?' A thought appeared in her mind, but she got rid of her and followed Erik, only to be stopped by his words, "Clean this up and find out about these people."
"Yes, young master." She said, bowing slightly and saw his fading silhouette, wondering about Valcroy.
Erik, meanwhile, was also thinking the same, but there were many more questions in his mind that he needed answers to.
"What are you?"
That was the question even Valcroy didn't know the answer to anymore.
"What were you doing there?"
Valcroy needed to be unconscious to answer that.
"And what is this thing?" he asked, directing his gaze towards his shoulder blades. The thing, the heart-like creature, was slowly reaching his chest, but he didn't stop it. Maybe Frostbornes really are reckless.
He took Valcroy to his tent and told the crew to inform him when he's awake. He also inquired about Alyssa, and finding that Valcroy visited him didn't garner much change in expression from him, but when he heard what the bald doctor said about the condition of Alyssa after he left and his inquiry about a mysterious woman made him raise his eyebrows.
.....
"Hmm*"
Valcroy hummed in his sleep, his mind drifting from one place to another, just as he was sinking more and more, he felt a touch? His eyelids trembled before opening slowly. Everything was hazy at first, but soon he regained clarity. Greeted by a familiar blue sky, he soon became lost in thoughts. Just then, he felt like there was someone else there with him, making his head turn, albeit slowly. Even the tiniest movement was giving him a dose of pain.
He opened his mouth, lips cracked, definitely from the beating he took, his voice coming out as he said, "Alyssa."
Alyssa was sitting next to him, busy dressing his wounds. She seemed to be lost in her world as she monotonously dipped the cloth in warm water. Then used it to clean his wound, before grabbing a dry one and wiping the water as well. After which she brought out a gauze and rolled it around that wound, covering it.
"Eh?"
Valcroy's words brought her out of her monotonous world. Her face lifted toward his and saw him looking at her, his lips curled up, eyes crinkled as he smiled at her warmly. She just stared at him for a while, making the room fall into an awkward silence.
Valcroy saw her dazed expression and verified that it was their Alyssa. He chuckled as he saw her frozen and asked, "What happened?"
"Val!" Alyssa said out loud as she jumped into his embrace, forgetting about all the wounds he sustained.
Sniff*
Waaaa*
Valcroy grimaced silently as he held patted the crying girl, who was bawling her eyes out. Fortunately, they were in the tent he was in before and no one could hear her, otherwise it would take weeks before she dared to look up. She would say she'd rather die from embarrassment than lift her head, a bit extreme, he guessed.
"There, there. It's okay. I'm fine now, see."
Valcroy patted her back and consoled her as she cried and cried for a while before stopping. And then came the embarrassed part, she wanted to leave his embrace but didn't want to look at him; she felt like she did something extremely embarrassing.
He knew what was going on and decided to help her, as he said, "Alyssa, we all have moments like these, and it's nothing to be ashamed of." He wanted to look a wise individual but now didn't know what to say further.
Some would say heartless bastard, but then he really didn't have one. Alyssa left his embrace and sat next to his bed on a chair, her head hanging down, ashamed to look at him while her hands fidgeted. Just as she was about to say something, he heard Valcroy ask, "How do you feel? Pain anywhere?"
She looked at him, he was a filled with wounds from head to toe but here he was, asking about her, a warm feeling rose in her, and she said, her voice a little on the lower end of spectrum, "I'm fine."
Valcroy nodded. Alyssa continued her work, catering to his wounds. He looked at her, a warm smile over his face, and a thought occurred in his mind, 'Oli needs Alyssa's personality, she's too lively.'
Alyssa felt a gaze and looked at Valcroy, who was lost in thoughts, with his eyes locked at her, making her lower her head. She didn't want to meet his eyes after the act she pulled earlier.
"Ow!"
Pain assaulted him, Valcroy looked down and saw his hand tied like it was running away.
"Sorry, sorry…."
Alyssa kept saying she loosened the bandage before running away.
"It's okay… and she's gone." Valcroy said, smiling wryly as he looked at her fleeting figure. He shook his head and loosened the bandages further. He waited, in case she returned, but she didn't, which made him exhale, shaking his head, he thought, 'Oli's better the way she is.'
Valcroy looked at his state and muttered, "They really did a number on me."
He remembers what happened after he snapped in the alley. Valcroy lost control over his body. He could hear and see everything, but other than that, nothing was in his control, like he was a passenger in his own body.
He looked at his fingers as he remembered his nails turning into claws like it was a very natural thing. "How did I do that?" He said, and thought about having them and just the next instant, it happened, his nails started growing longer and sharper, making him almost yell out in surprise.
Valcroy internally said, 'stop,' which stopped them, and they turned back to normal. He looked at his hand, eyes wide. He didn't know it was possible. "Is it normal?" he asked, but there was no one there to answer.
Unlikely, otherwise people would've used them, which looked sharp enough to cut through steel, in their duels, etc.
After the claws retracted and he got his nails back, Valcroy tried again, the claws returned, he did it again and again, like a child finding a new toy, he wanted to experiment with them but now was not the time, he couldn't even move a bit without groaning in pain.
His eyes turned hazy, still fixated on his hands, remembering them ripping hearts out of those people, ripping one to pieces and slicing one's head off. He wanted to stop at multiple points, but his body was really not in his control, so he could only look as he diced them up, especially the last one. Good thing he couldn't see his eyes that those people saw, it was a whole different world of craziness.
He remembered when the boss turned around, a red crescent blade, similar to the one he used in his nightmare, formed in his hand, this one was completely made of blood of the people that died before. Taking advantage of boss's ignorance and the lackey's distraction, he sliced the head. The blade passed through his neck, like a hot knife through butter, and voilà, one more dead, with the blade's serrated mark over the neck and the head.
Valcroy clenched and relaxed his fist as he remembered everything vividly, even the blood and flesh that splashed over his body, but this time, he didn't feel sick or wanted to throw up. Maybe because he saw heaps of them before or that because the ones he killed had murdered a lot of people. He didn't know which it was, but it helped in, and his consciousness was clear.
Still, this brought one more thing, no, two things, to his attention.
'The nightmare was not a nightmare.' Somewhere in his mind, he knew it was true, but he kept on denying that and now. He had no choice but to accept it, especially with the second thing that came after, the heart-shaped creature he saw squirming in his hand before he lost consciousness back in the alley.
He very much knew that this creature was from that place, so a question arose that he needed an answer for.
"How did it arrive here?"