Knock...knock...knock..
The room was dearthly silent. In a brief moment the atmosphere had completely turned on it's head.
"Get off her and answer it." The scared man regained his barings quickly, grabbing the hilt of a knife on his waist.
While they didn't have any real reason to be afraid, the sense of oppression loomed over them like the grim reaper.
"Y-yea, hold on." The man put the woman down and readjusted his belt. A hammer that lay on the table was grabbed tightly as he moved towards the door, each step feeling heavier.
Cautiously, he positioned his eye Infront of the peephole.
Squinting his eyes in irration, a vein bulged on his forehead as he looked through. On the other side lay the face of a middle aged brown haired man with sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes. All in all, he looked like an addict.
The other guys tensely waited for his reveal.
"Dammit! Calm down, it's just that junky!"
His words sent a wave of relief through everyone, cutting through the built up tension.
"Haha, let him in. I bet you pissed yourself haha!" Their moods relaxed as they joked.
BASTERDS! I wasn't the only one!
Indignant curses sounded in his mind, However he didn't reply and grasped the door knob, twisting it firmly before throwing it open.
"Your late!...huh?"
The door now fully opened, revealing a strange scene that left the gang member shaking in fear. In that brief moment his life flashed before his eyes, like it would be gone at any moment.
The scene that greeted him was not of a junky, but of his head that still dropped with blood from where it had been severed!
The gang members heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of a small white robed figure holding up a severed head to the level of the peephole.
Thud!
The head dropped to the floor.
The criminals breathing became rapid, a cold sweat forming on his neck. The man wasn't a coward in any way, but even the most battle hardened soldiers would tremble In fear at the feet of a weaver. They were an absolutely terrifying foe for average people. If their was one rule that everyone followed, it was to bow down and pray if you ever cross paths with one.
The tension hit once again, this time much more menacingly than the last.
The other gang members also shared this this sentiment as they watched the small robed child calmly walk past the door and enter their home.
Creak!
The old floorboards buckled slightly under the pressure of his steps, each one like a knife looming over everyone's head.
Suddenly, the boy stopped at the centre of the room, silent as a statue.
The scar faced man gathered every ounce of courage and stepped forward, violently slamming his head to the floor to bow Infront of the boy. A small wound seeped blood, but he couldn't even feel it under the immense pressure the boy was exuding.
"M-my Lord, this humble servant greats you." His words were stuttered and quick.
His entire body was trembling.
The scene of a man trembling Infront of a child would usually look like the funnier joke in the world. In this case, it was far from it. None of the gang members had any arrogance despite the boys seemingly young age. None at all.
"Euphoraline, I know you have it. Give it to me." The young and ethereal voice commanded with an eerie calm.
"My lord, y-you must be mistaken!"
The man who had initially opened the door tried desperately to save himself. If the church discovered the drug on them, they would be subjected to the worst torture known to man. People often whispered of prisoners being fed to horrible monsters that dwelled in the church's basement level.
A flash of light flew a Ross the room
SHINK!
The scared man felt he was in the presence of a demon as he watched his friend impaled with a knife. It was thrown with so much force he was pinned to wall behind him.
"Do you think I am a fool. Do you think my eyes don't see?" The boys yellow eyes shifted to the mother that had stood up, now completely frozen a static position. She was no more than a pitifull doll in her catatonic state.
"Y-yes, Ofcourse lord! I'll give it to you right away!" His hand tightly gripped behind his waist as he stood up with trembling legs and moved closer to the boy.
Fwoosh!
Instead of what he promised, the thug pulled out a knife in a desperate attempt to escape. The other two men saw a chance at the same time and rushed to attack.
As the boy lazily moved away from the knife barrelling towards his face, it's movements flowing through his vision in slow motion, the air rippled and the floors and walls took on a distanct liquid like texture.
"Have you have chosen your path? So be it."
A sandstorm instantly engulfed the entire building, it's sharp grains strong enounce to scratch wood. Three men, without a hint of visibility, lay separated within this sandstorm without any visibility. They were like lambs to the slaughter, standing no chance against the coming onlaught.
"G-guys, please get me out of here-"
Shing!
"Klay, what happened-!" Hearing his friends crys suddenly stop, the other thug shouted out.
Splat!
Another voice was cut off through the sand.
By this point, only one more remained. The entire ordeal having taken just under 10 seconds. That was all the Dreamweavers needed against the inferior mortals.
Thump, thump, thump
The last remaining scar faced gang member felt his heart race as he tried desperately to see through the cloud of sand. He gripped his knife so hard it threatened to break.
His senses dialed up to eleven as he tried to think of something, anything that could save this desperate situation.
"I...hold on, the girl!" His mind worked desperately and formulated a plan. The mother was standing close enough for him to just barely see her.
"Dont come any closer, or I swear she's dead!" He grabbed her and held a knife to her throat. The hostage didn't even register the danger though and looked around in a daze.
Soon, the sand dissapated and revealed a bloody visage.
All three of the gang members had been brutally slaughtered in the span of 10 seconds. One of them lay on the ground, all four of his limbs severed cleanly to form a pool of blood on the floor.
The other was pinned to the wall, a knife having been thrown with so much force it pinned him up like a painting.
And the last...a small arm was still piercing his chest, having been punched with enough strength to tear through bone and flesh.
The boys white robes now held a deep crimson stain, the arm that had gutted the thug even more so,
Squelch!
A horrible sound echoed, causing the scared man to flinch involuntarily.
The boy, having pulled his arm out and letting the now dead thugs body drop to the floor lifelessly, staired straight towards the last one standing.
His eyes were so calm it was unnerving, like nobody in this world existed other than him.
A bottomless pit of apathy that barely even registered the hostage or her kidnapper.
Their was no concern in his heart, only a gnawing evil that desired to break out from the depot of his soul.
It was then, that Cypher spoke. His voice was like grinding chark to the thugs ears, a promise that he knew he couldn't escape from.
"Euphoraline, give it to me. I'll make your death as painless as possible."