Ah!
Axiel's consciousness drifted, suspended between waking and oblivion, his mind ensnared in a suffocating fog. Darkness enveloped him—thick, inescapable, and smothering. It clung to his senses, wrapping him in a void that devoured all notion of time, space, or self. Somewhere, distantly, his thoughts struggled to cohere, but each effort dissolved into the same inky blackness that pressed in around him.
A faint, throbbing awareness began to stir at the edges of his mind, and with it came a trickle of disjointed memories—fleeting, fragmented, like shadows flitting through a dream. He had been swallowed by something—something monstrous, unfathomable.
But how?
He was Axiel, the empire's mightiest hero, undefeated in battle, revered and feared across nations. Yet here he was, trapped, immobilized, rendered helpless by… what? His thoughts fluttered, half-formed. What had happened? His body felt hollow, as though the very essence of his strength had been leeched from him, leaving him vulnerable and adrift.
He tried to clench his fist in frustration, but there was no response. His fingers wouldn't move. Panic surged. What's happening? His body felt foreign, unresponsive. Before he could make sense of it, a searing pain tore through his skull, sharp and relentless like a hammer crashing down. The world spun violently, and he instinctively reached up to touch his head.
Relief—his head hadn't shattered as he feared. But something wet and cold slicked his fingers, and the sharp scent of metal invaded his nostrils. Blood. His blood.
What has happened to me?
His heart pounded in his chest, hammering against his ribs as he struggled to open his eyes. Even this small act felt like lifting the weight of the world. His eyelids were unbearably heavy, as though they had been nailed shut, and every attempt to force them open sent waves of exhaustion through his already weakened body. What in the name of the gods had happened to him?
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to force his eyes open. The world around him was a blur of shadow, the edges of his vision murky and indistinct. The darkness pressed close, almost suffocating in its thickness. It clung to everything, warping shapes, bending light, leaving him trapped in an endless, suffocating gloom.
His surroundings were unclear, but the strong, cloying scent of blood filled the air, and something about the space around him screamed of confinement. Was this a dungeon? A basement? A tomb? The air was thick, heavy with a palpable sense of dread, and something in the stillness around him spoke of confinement—of death.
His thoughts were too clouded, too slow to piece together the answers. Think, Axiel. But his mind was sluggish, and nothing made sense.
Axiel struggled to move his arms, only to be met with the biting pain of rope digging into his wrists. Bound—he was tied down. Each movement sent searing pain through his body, as though the very bindings themselves were infused with his torment.
Despair gnawed at him, but he refused to give in to it. He had faced death before. He had stared into the abyss countless times, and this was no different. It couldn't be different. He wouldn't allow it to be.
Then, as his blurry vision adjusted to the gloom, his gaze fell upon a figure sprawled on the ground, lying just a few feet in front of him. A woman. She lay motionless, her body pale, arms stretched out as if in her final moments, she had reached for him. The crimson pool of blood beneath her was vast, and it took Axiel a moment to comprehend the horrific sight before him.
He didn't know who she was.
Who is she?
But a deep pang of sorrow surged through his chest, sharp and unexpected. Somehow, he knew—she was someone important. He couldn't explain it, but looking at her lifeless form filled him with a profound sense of loss, as if she had been tied to him in some way, something more than a passing stranger. His heart ached, as though it recognized what his mind couldn't.
The sight of her twisted him inside. Her face was pale, drained of life, her once-strong features now softened in death. There was something about the way she lay there, her body between him and the unseen threat—had she died protecting him? The thought made his throat tighten, guilt and confusion battling for control.
Why? Why would she sacrifice herself for him? Who was she? The more he tried to grasp for answers, the more his mind spun in circles. But none came. Still, the weight of her death pressed down on him like a mountain. The way she reached toward him, as though she had been trying to protect him even in her last moments—it sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through him.
Axiel's fists clenched against the ropes binding him. He had no memory of her, no idea how they were connected, yet the sorrow he felt was raw, visceral. He had fought on countless battlefields, had seen death up close many times, but this—this was different. There was an undeniable gravity to it.
He tried again to move, straining against the ropes, but his body was weak, and the bindings held firm. Desperation clawed at him. He had to know. He had to understand why the sight of this woman made his heart ache like it was being torn apart.
But he couldn't move, couldn't reach her, couldn't undo what had been done. The only thing he knew for sure was that she had died for him—and that knowledge filled him with an unbearable sorrow he couldn't shake.
Just as he was agonizing over what's in front of him, the oppressive silence was shattered by a soft click, the dim room suddenly lit up. The light almost blinding Axiel couldn't help shutting his eyes. A small and soft-spoken voice that seemingly seemed to have belonged to a young woman spoke through the cold silence.
"Ahh… it seems we were late."
The voice that spoke was delicate, almost gentle, like the whisper of wind through a crypt. Axiel froze, his heart pounding louder in his chest. The woman's voice carried no malice, but there was something unsettling in its calmness.
Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, approached. A second voice, this one smooth but weighted with cold detachment, followed the first. "The culprit is already gone. Mrs. Dayton has passed away." He spoke as he examined the lifeless woman.
'Are these people the ones responsible for this?'
'But the way they talk, it doesn't seem to be the case.'
'Rather, are they here to supposedly save us?'
Axiel's mind, already overloaded with questions, raced with more thoughts. Who were these people? Had they been sent to save him? Or were they the ones responsible for this massacre? He couldn't tell, and in his current state, he was in no position to fight if they turned out to be enemies. He forced his breathing to steady, though his heart pounded mercilessly in his chest.
"Oh, but this guy here... he's still breathing." Axiel's body tensed. The voice came from right beside him. How had this man moved so close without him noticing?
Axiel could feel the piercing gaze of the man who crouched near him, the weight of his eyes a tangible pressure. "And it seems he's awake." The man's voice was laced with something unsettling, almost amused. Axiel forced himself to stay still, though his mind screamed in frustration.
"Silas, don't grin like that. It's… unnerving," the woman's soft voice drifted through the room again, disturbingly casual for the scene. Despite her words, there was no real rebuke in her tone. Only the barest hint of amusement, as if this were nothing more than a twisted game.
"Kai, learn to read the room." The man who shares almost the same features as the girl spoke as he stood up from examining the corpse. "This lady here will be taken back to the organization." He turned his gaze over to Axiel, it's cold and apathetic. "Is that guy able to move?"
Axiel could feel the real meaning of the young man's words, he could tell that he meant to inform him of what they are going to do with the woman while the second seems to be his way of asking whether he will follow them or should they leave him be.
Axiel sighed; his pretend sleep won't work on these youngsters alright. He tried to open his eyes but as expected, he couldn't move a limb.
"Kui," the girl addressed the more serious young man, "what are we supposed to do with him? Leave him here to die? We're taking him back, of course! Ask him questions later, after he's treated." She scolded without raising her voice, it's soft-spoken however, you could still feel the stern and firmness of her tone.
The young man called Kui pressed his lips together and looked away, "That's what I meant," he muttered under his breath.
"Silas!" The girl snapped again, her gentle demeanor still intact. "Stop standing there looking creepy and carry him, will you?"
Silas grinned wider. "You're hurting my feelings, princess," he teased but didn't hesitate to crouch down beside Axiel, who couldn't shake the unease that crept up his spine. Silas' smile was too wide, too knowing, as if this whole situation was a twisted game to him.
Axiel remained silent, his mind swirling. Who were these people? And why was it that, despite their eerie behavior, a part of him almost... trusted them? Or maybe it was just his body giving in to exhaustion. Either way, as Silas reached for him, Axiel could do nothing but wait in silence, the darkness closing in once more.
"Let's get you patched up, hero," Silas whispered close to his ear, that unsettling grin never leaving his face.