"MARK!"
Ara's panicked voice jolted Mark out of his daze, snapping him back to reality. He blinked, and in the next instant he found himself staring at the ground, with a pair of feet in his line of sight, the cold touch of a water whip wrapped around his waist, clutched in Ara's grasp made him tremble.
Mark's body shook involuntarily as replayed his recent brush with death in his mind, beads of sweat dripping off his forehead.
He lifted a trembling hand to his neck, feeling the warmth of his own blood. Pulling the hand back into view, he saw the crimson stain on his fingers, a stark reminder of how close he had come to the edge. The sight sent a shiver down his spine as he contemplated his narrow escape.
"Seriously! Don't go saying it's a two on one fight and go rushing in like a fool, you're not some hero." Ara scolded him harshly. "You could have been killed."
Ara's voice drew Mark's attention and he raised his head to her and he saw the water whip wrapped tightly around his waist, realizing he had just been saved by her.
"I-im sorry." Mark's voice trembled as he slowly rose to his feet. "Thank you Ara," he added with a grateful tone as he refocused his gaze on Romnwell.
"Don't be sorry, just don't underestimate him again, we have to cooperate to bring him down." Ara responded calmly, as she dispersed the water whip in her hand.
"Yeah, you're right," Mark shakily said, taking on a stance.
Romnwell stood a distance away from them, his form still blocking the exit. "Oh, it's a tag team now?" He said with a mocking tone. "Are we-"
His voice was cut short by a stream of a compressed water projectile that quickly flew towards his head, before he could dodge the projectile, Mark's figure was upon him from the opposite side, launching another attack. Romnwell was cornered, or so it looked.
"Hmph," with a slight chuckle, Romnwell suddenly twisted his body, raising his dagger, he used it to deflect the water projectile, following the momentum of his spin, he faced Mark and quickly used his other hand to expertly block the strike.
Taking advantage of the situation, Romnwell immediately grabbed Mark's shoulder and his hand suddenly became bright orange.
"Ahhhh," Mark's pained voice rang out as a sizzling sound came from his shoulder that Romnwell had gripped. Before Mark could recover from the shock of having his skin burned, a flaming fist landed directly on his face, maintaining his strong grip on Mark, Romnwell landed another blow. Mark tried to shake off the pain and free himself from Romnwell, but his grip only became tighter and his punches more brutal.
Just as Romnwell raised his hand to land another blow, a water whip flashed through the air, ensnaring his wrist. Romnwell's scowl deepened as he looked back at Ara with a glare, who had restricted his movement.
Ara tried to avoid Romnwell and reach Mark, desperate to heal his wounds, but Romnwell's was too quick. He pounced on Ara in a flash. His flaming hand closing in on her face like a vice.
"Ahhh," Ara's spine-chilling scream filled the air as Romnwell's grip tightened on her face that was still hurting from its earlier burn.
Her voice was cut abruptly by a cruel punch that left her gasping for breath. She doubled over, coughing violently, as Romnwell's savage grin grew wider, reveling in her suffering.
Romnwell grabbed Ara's hair and brought her face to his eye level.
"I must say, you both seem to make a good pair, don't worry I'll send him to mee-" he trailed off, his gaze drifting towards the end of the hall, where some figures emerged from a corner.
"Oh ho, what do we have here? You've done a number on them Romnwell, just you, aya, you're really a scary guy." Allan's voice rang out from the other end of the hall. He paused and stared at Ara's hideously burnt face, shaking his head with a chuckle, he spoke. "You are really cruel Romnwell, but who cares, I like it."
He then looked to the opposite side and saw Mark struggling to get to his feet, his shoulder and face marred with burn wounds. "A tough one, I see, a pity… or wait, what do I care? I'm done playing games, it's time to end this." Allan said with a smile as he walked slowly towards Mark.
"Romnwell, finish her off. I'll take care of him, there's still a lot to be done."
"Gladly," Romnwell said with a wicked grin as he gripped Ara's slim neck and began to choke her.
"Well, you weren't much fun," Allan's tone changed, his voice dripping with malice. Mark, seeing Allan approach him slowly, tried to force himself up.
"Still trying to put on a fight?" Allan asked, his tone laced with amusement. You should know when you're done for and just give up." Allan roared as he brandished his dagger, his maddening grin growing ever wider. With a chilling precision, he aimed menacingly at Mark's chest.
Mark, too weak from Romnwell's beatings, couldn't dodge the attack on time, he didn't even try, he just waited for the strike that would end it all.
Just as Allan's attack was about to hit its mark, his movements suddenly froze. Noticing Allan's pause, as if he were petrified or hesitant, Mark watched on in confusion, wondering why Allan suddenly paused in his attack.
As he pondered, the dagger Allan was holding slipped from his grip hitting the ground with a clang, the next instance Allan suddenly fell to the ground face first.
The sequence spooked Mark as he took an apprehensive step back, that was when he noticed a tiny hole on Allan's forehead that leaked blood. The sight sent chills down his spine.
"W-what happened to him?" Mark muttered to himself in shock.
"Hey what are you doing Allan?" This is no time to be having a nap, Romnwell said in irritation, his grip still tight on Ara's slim neck. "Hey go check him out," Romnwell signaled to one of his accomplices, gesturing towards Allan's motionless body.
"Alright," the young man responded, but as soon he took a step forward, he suddenly froze, before his body shuddered and fell limply to the ground, a tiny almost unnoticeable hole on his forehead leaked blood, mirroring Allan's fate.
Romnwell's hair stood on end as he watched the young man's body hit the ground, his eyes widening in shock.
"W-what?" Romnwell's voice trailed off as he struggled to process what was happening. Before he could comprehend it though, another thud sound caught his attention as he saw another one of his accomplices fall dead, a fearful expression painting his face.
Like that, one by one, all the Students that came with Allan all fell strangely, little red dots on their foreheads leaking blood, a strange and horrifying sight.
Romnwell's blood turned cold, his grip on Ara's neck softening involuntarily, as fear crept into his eyes.