Chapter 99: Cloak changes Hands!
Adrian looked at the fainted figure of Tessa lying on the ground, he saw the morale of the people drop. He had to step up in her stead but even he was finding it hard to maintain his cool.
Tessa had a gentle appearance as her eyes remained closed. Her backpack that contained the cloak was still on her back as she laid lopsided on the ground.
She was exhausted beyond limit and out of energy, both physically and also with her powers alike.
Adrian knelt a distance away from Tessa, his hands trembling as he looked at her unconscious form sprawled on the ground. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow, and her once-bright eyes were closed in complete exhaustion.
The cloak—their one source of hope—was still in her backpack, but even that felt like a distant lifeline now. The atmosphere around them was thick with despair. Adrian clenched his fists, knowing he had to step up in her stead, but for the first time, doubt crept into his mind.
"She's out of energy... completely drained," he muttered to himself, eyes flicking between Tessa and the approaching bandits.
Tessa's face remained calm, almost serene, but Adrian could see the toll the battle had taken on her. Her backpack, which still contained the cloak, slumped against her back as her body lay in a twisted position on the cold ground.
Suddenly, a loud shout broke through the tension as one of the bandits charged forward. Adrian lunged, but before he could get to him or stop him, the bandit yanked the backpack off Tessa's back and sprinted away.
"No!" Adrian's scream tore through the air, raw with frustration. His heart plummeted as the reality hit him—they had the cloak.
As if on cue, the rest of the bandits stopped their assault and turned to follow the thief, leaving behind a scene of chaos and devastation. Adrian collapsed to his knees beside Tessa, overwhelmed with regret. "This can't be happening… not like this."
---
Red Bandits' Base
Hours later, the Red Bandit camp was alive with celebration. Bonfires lit the night as the bandits drank and cheered, reveling in their hard-won prize. The backpack, now infamous among them, had become the symbol of their victory. D'zy, the leader of the Red Bandits, sat amongst the crowd, nursing a drink, though the losses of many of his men weighed on him.
"Finally... the cloak is ours," he whispered, eyes glinting with pride.
But the revelry was cut short when an eerie silence swept over the crowd. From the shadows, a voice as cold as death sliced through the air.
"Do you have the backpack?" The voice carried a weight that made everyone freeze.
The bandits turned, parting to reveal a lone figure walking toward them—Ikehara. His entrance was like something out of a nightmare, his presence alone enough to make the bravest men shiver. He moved with quiet menace, his eyes sharp, gleaming with an unreadable intensity.
D'zy swallowed hard as Ikehara approached. He had seen what this man—or whatever he was—could do. The memory of Ikehara cutting down his men without hesitation played on a loop in his mind. "Who has the backpack?" Ikehara asked again, his voice deceptively calm.
No one moved. No one spoke. The crowd, once filled with jeering and laughter, stood in terrified silence.
Ikehara smirked, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "So... you want to play games with me?" His tone dropped into a lethal whisper. "Do you know who I am? Did you forget who I am?"
D'zy raised his hands in surrender. "I told them not to provoke you," he stammered, his voice trembling. "I warned them..."
Ikehara's gaze swept across the group, then he melted back into the shadows without another word. For a moment, the bandits dared to breathe again—until the first man fell, his throat sliced open in a single, silent motion. Panic erupted as another fell, and then another. The bandits began to scatter, but it was no use. Ikehara moved like a phantom, cutting them down one by one. His precision was terrifying, and no one could see him coming.
Blood pooled on the ground as more bodies fell, and the air was thick with fear. Finally, one of the bandits, his face pale with terror, ran forward, tossing the backpack at Ikehara's feet.
"Take it!" he shouted. "Take it and leave us!"
Ikehara stepped out of the shadows, his deadly gaze softening as he reached for the bag. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" His voice was almost soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos he'd just unleashed. With deliberate calm, Ikehara opened the bag, rifling through its contents until he found the cloak.
A slow smile spread across his face as he held the ancient cloak in his hands. The Cloak of Restoration shimmered under the firelight, and as Ikehara draped it over his shoulders, the transformation was immediate. His injuries—the fractured bone in his leg, the deep scars across his chest—mended instantly. He stood taller, a renewed power coursing through him.
"This... this will be enough," Ikehara whispered to himself, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "I might not even need the other ingredients to raise Rhemon back to life."
He turned to D'zy and tossed a small flute at him. "If you ever need my help again, blow the flute, and I will come." Without waiting for a response, Ikehara disappeared into the night, leaving behind a massacre.
D'zy stood amidst the carnage, his men lying dead or wounded around him. He glanced at the bandit leaders, his voice hard. "I warned you. I told you not to provoke him. Now, do you see why?"
One of the leaders, face twisted with fury, lunged at D'zy. "You cost us everything! What was the point of getting the cloak if we were just going to lose it like this?!"
He was restrained by the others, but the anger simmered beneath the surface. D'zy said nothing, but his expression was grim.
---
Back at Tessa's group, which were still within the outskirts of Akanon city, the mood was equally somber. Though no lives had been lost, Tessa's loss of consciousness weighed heavily on everyone's minds. Adrian cradled her in his arms, refusing to leave her side.
"We need to get her back to the Rhemonic lands," Nyala said softly, her fingers brushing over Tessa's hand as if that small touch could wake her. "The Blood Moon Flower... it's our only chance."
"We're too weak," Nymff interjected, a frown etched deeply on her face. "If we're attacked now, we won't survive the journey. We have to recover first."
Nymff felt like Adrian should be with her and not cradling someone else, but that felt like something a self-centered person would say, so she had to keep her true feelings hidden.
Adrian remained silent, his heart heavy with guilt. He glanced at Tessa's still face, his chest tightening with each breath. Nymff's words echoed in his mind, but all he could focus on was Tessa. She was the center of his world right now, and nothing else seemed to matter.
Ecdy stood nearby, watching in silence, his hands clenched into fists. Seeing Adrian hold Tessa so closely, especially in her weakened state, stirred something ugly within him. A possessive rage simmered under his calm exterior, but he kept his thoughts to himself. For now.