Chereads / Setta of the Stygian Furnace / Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Brave, mad, and kind

Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Brave, mad, and kind

"Thank you, I really appreciate your help."

Leora tried not to smile, but her eyes glistened. "What is that about? 'Be kind to everything and everyone,' she said, gesturing toward an elderly man in the distance. "Like that old man over there."

The crooked old man approached the train station slowly, using a cane to support his crawling steps. Leora noticed him from across the platform and quickly rushed to his side, like a Samaritan coming to someone in need.

Leora and Varo slowly helped the man onto a bench. Varo took a close look at the man sitting beside him; despite his wrinkled face and cracked lips, his eyes shone with youth. The old man adjusted his trench coat and settled into a comfortable position, not looking at Varo.

"You are a darling," he said with a smile, then shot a suspicious glare at Varo. "Even kind to your slave, but you should remind him to always lower his head."

Varo's head dropped instantly, his breath catching as he tried to steady himself, embarrassed. 'This man is going to be a pain in the ass,' Varo thought.

There was a brief silence.

"Understood. I'll get you a ticket," Leora chuckled nervously before walking to the ticket dispenser.

Varo watched her leave him alone with the elderly man. Though he had no reason to comply with a scrawny old man's words, he figured it was a little way of showing kindness and keeping a low profile for Leora's sake.

Varo wondered what it would be like to be in the old man's coat, which reminded him of the cold weather. Varo drooled at the thought of warmth and food, but the old man's words upset him, causing him to return to reality. He was rather hopeful.

Leora took her time returning. She smiled, despite her tired appearance. "Your ticket, Sir," she told the old man before taking a seat next to Varo.

The old man scratched his neck, then squinted and sniffed the ticket before reaching into his trenchcoat. "I have noticed something strange about you two," he said. "Could you please explain why you are out so late?" He stared coldly at Leora.

Leora narrowed her tired eyes. "I do not have to respond, sir; we are just waiting for the train."

Varo's heart thumped, he felt immense pressure sitting between them. The air became thick. He glanced at Leora, she looked annoyed.

The old man was outraged by Leora's response. He portrayed composure. "Here... Are some Rubries for the troubles and als–."

The train rumbled in the distance, its bright headlight dazzling through the darkness. The passenger train curved along its railings, screeching to a halt and emitting plumes of smoke. The train's warm air puffed at them. While the others covered their faces, Varo enjoyed the warmth.

Leora popped an animated smile. "Let's go Varo," she said tugging Varo to the train attendant, that smiled warmly at them.

"This way, please," the friendly attendant directed.

Leora's actions took Varo by surprise. He looked back and saw the old man toss the shiny currency into the dirt. His angry eyes met Varo's, but Varo was unfazed; after all, he could not cause any more problems.

Varo focused on what's in front him. A pristine nice coach! It was narrow, lit by warm yellow bulbs, and there were only a few passengers seated.

"Where do we sit?" Varo asked.

"It's late, so we can sit anywhere," Leora explained. "we'll sit far from the old man."

Leora and Varo were about to move farther away from the entrance when they heard the old man yell.

"Insolent brats," he said, throwing his cane. "How dare you disrespect me? Where do you live? "You were a sniveling child when I defended this country!!"

His cane smacked an oblivious passenger. The old man's outburst perplexed everyone, including Leora and Varo.

A train attendant approached him to address the issue.

"Calm down Sir, the train's about to move, please have your se–"

It happened so fast that the old man shifted as if he were about to fall. The decapitated head dropped with a dull thud, followed by a wet plop from the bloody headless body. It froze everyone. A woman screamed, others shaking in their boots, the old man stood manically with an absurd blade attached to his right arm.

"Do not tell me to be calm!"

Varo's eyes widened hearing the agitated scream. He felt a wrenching churn in his chest.

'That man died. What the hell! Is he insane or a demon?' His heart raced.

Varo looked at Leora, who was holding back her scream with her hands covering her mouth.

The old man looked at the corpse. "I did not mean it to you, poor soul; it is because of those brats," he sighed. "I suppose I will just kill everyone." He turned to the screaming woman and said, "Stop hollering!"

He raised his armed right hand and was about to strike the woman when the train jerked into motion.

The old man's balance was disrupted by the sudden movement. Leora decided to act,

"Get them somewhere safe," she told Varo, before flashing the gap and ramming her shoulder into the old man's stomach. She struggled fiercely to pin his weaponized arm.

One of the passengers, a man in a dashing doublet, attempted to unlock the vestibule leading to the next coach.

"Follow me," he shouted.

Varo didn't know what to do. Too much. It was all too much; everything was happening so quickly, but he found a way to move forward. He was furious, scared even. He grabbed a briefcase and dashed to where Leora and the old man were wrestling. "I will bash his head in."

Varo staggered and fell as a plasma beam blew past him unexpectedly.

The explosion shook the train, damaged the lighting, and tore a hole in it. The lights went out, then came back on. It also made the train hot with an acrid odor.

Varo's ears rang with pain as he heard another scream. The doublet man had a bowling ball-sized hole in his torso, and his entrails hissed up as steam before his husk-like body died.

Before Varo could react, Leora slid back, tumbling, her blood leaving a trail.

Hell! Varo could not believe his eyes, nor think straight. It was hopeless.

'How did it get to this? Is it because I'm a slave?

No, this geezer was a devil from the start.

The wind howled from the gap torn into the side of the train. Leaves were swept in and out of the gap of the speeding train.

"What have you done?" The old man roared, looking down at his puffed and coughing arm. "Give it back."

Leora barely got to her knees, clutching a hot mechanical compartment in her charred hand, as a small deep cut on her shoulder spewed blood. Her arm dangled, numb.

"Varo, he can't shoot beams anymore all he has his that blade," she muttered weakly.

"I am enjoying this; you want to play hero, huh!? Slave?" The old man burst out laughing. "I am going to kill everybody here."

What is bravery?

The plasma beam that took out the doublet passenger went straight through the train, and tore a hole in the coach where Varo stood.

Though the old man was unable to repeat such a terrifying attack, his mechanical blade was brimming with red, a result of the plasma beam.

Varo was the only one standing, his heart pounding, horror riddled his mind. The old man began to walk towards them, ambling slowly with drooling steps. He had predatory eyes. Despite the fact that his weaponized arm had severely burned him, he showed no signs of pain.

What could Varo do? Despite his initial determination to survive and have fun, everything fell apart. He could not survive and was not having fun.

Grass and wind howled in and out of the huge hole. The terrified passengers could not bear the dread; some prayed, whimpering, while others shook the closed door of the next coach. An attendant, who was sweating profusely, repeatedly clicked a button.

It was grim.

Varo gritted his teeth as he looked at the hole and the approaching old man.

"I am sorry about this," Leora said, slowly standing. She lowered her stance while holding her numb hand.

It was the stance same stance she had taken before tackling the old man. Infuriated by what he saw, the old man charged like a seasoned athlete.

Right there.

Varo mimicked Leora and flashed the gap, he leapt and swung a powerful kick, which the old man slashed.

Varo saw red—his blood. He didn't feel the pain, his body simply knew it was hit.

The old man waved his blade at Varo's face once more; it did not matter. Varo felt his kick shatter the old man's dome, cracking like thunder and sending the old man through the hole.

The old man was blasted, jagged metal pieces from the hole tore visceral chunks of his back as his body was flung out of the train.

"He did it!" A passenger shouted. "He actually did it!"

Varo listened to the relived people. Trembling pain cut through, as did the faint sound of rushing footsteps. He fell hard.

"Varo, your eyes!" He could hear Leora's shaky voice.

Varo was in too much pain to speak. 'Forget my eyes; I think I have been cut open,' he thought.

He felt a burning sensation across his torso as he curled up like a baby on the warm train floor. His ripped flesh rubbed against each other as they fought to keep his innards in place, creating a pool of his own blood around him.

"It hurts. It hurts so bad."

His head became heavy, and the sounds distorted and faded away.