A Wild Beast

Some time passed since I started following the guards. 

Throughout that time, there weren't any notable developments. But now we were standing outside some large door, and the guards stared inside with furrowed brows of frustration.

Two of the five swiped their swords from their sheaths and bolted inside.

Almost as if rejected by the room, they flew out at considerable speed. As they spun through the air, their bodies rag-dolled uncontrollably before crashing into the smooth brick wall beside me. 

Their journey ended when they slid down the wall to the floor and slumped over, unconscious.

The remaining guards looked back to their fallen allies in dismay and cursed the hidden assailant. Then, growling at their enemy, they brandished their blades toward the room.

One took the lead. 

"You're gonna pay for this, you-" his words were met by an airborne bowl. 

After the collision was the screech of breaking ceramic as the dish shattered into his face; his skin was shredded by the bowl's shards as they stuck out from his face. 

He crashed to the ground, dropped his sword, and clutched his new wounds while bawling. His tears mixed with the streaks of blood to form smears of diluted red across his face.

After seeing yet another of their comrades felled, easily no less, the final two hesitated even more.

They looked at each other and steeled their resolve. Then, gripping their weapons, they howled a war cry and thrust themselves into battle. 

The sound of grunting, metal clashing, and flesh being struck echoed through the halls.

"Shit! I can't just stand here!" is what I said, but what I saw wasn't a scene where I was necessary.

Standing in the room was indeed a wild beast. 

He was clad in rags, like Agawa and me. Unlike us, however, he wasn't battered and bruised. Instead, he was the one doing the battering and bruising.

Behind him lay one of the two guards, freshly beaten and unconscious.

Despite that, I felt more pity for the other one. 

Grunting and frantically grabbing at his assailant's arm, he was lifted into the air by the temples of his skull. I imagined it was a harrowing and terrifying experience.

The savage turned towards me, still holding the crying guard in the air. "Yo, soldier guy."

He was incredibly calm, especially considering what was happening. Then, proceeding with his dramatic reveal, he plunged his new victim headfirst into a nearby wooden table, splintering it into several pieces.

I should've known who it was by the guard's description. A savage beating, inhuman strength, and they looked like a wild beast? There was only one person who fit that description.

"Takagi?" I tilted my head in confusion.

"What? Do you know another badass around here? Yeah it's me, idiot," he snarked and approached me. "What took you so damn long? I've been having fun all alone, don't tell me you've been napping this entire time?" his expression became condescending.

I couldn't be irritated with him; what he said was true. "Sorry," I said apologetically, "I have no excuses."

My apology made Takagi recoil in discomfort. "Hey, stop that! I was only messing with you! Geez," he clicked his tongue in irritation, "why are you so serious?"

I sighed and straightened my back, turning my focus to the room. It was unmistakably a mess hall. Numerous wooden tables extended from one end to the other. Half of them were reduced to uselessness, aside from being used as scrap wood.

The aftermath of Takagi's destruction went far beyond just smashed tables; shattered dishes and scattered cutlery littered the area too.

There were multiple other guards, aside from the ones I followed, piled around the floor. All of whom were beaten to the point of unconsciousness.

"Admiring my work, huh?" Takagi said proudly. "If you pay your respects," he shook his head, "I guess you could be an underling."

Somehow, his arrogance was refreshing to me. I must've been relieved that he stayed the same despite everything we'd been through. He was still the same rude, arrogant, and savage Takagi who beat down an unbreakable door with a single kick.

'What a crazy bastard,' I chuckled to myself.

After our greetings, I stored Agawa at one of the unbroken tables to gather all the guards and tie them up. Once he saw what I was working on, Takagi joined me in locking them within the mess hall's food pantry.

With a tight pull in opposite directions, we secured each soldier one by one with various ropes and chains we'd scavenged. Now that they were bound, I did what I did best. I looted them.

To my relief, I found some of their armor actually fit this time!

I strapped on a leather studded vest, bracers, and shin guards. It was definitely a step down from my usual body armor. Still, I felt much safer with a shell around my soft flesh.

Takagi helped himself to several items from the pile. He grumbled to himself and fidgeted with the equipment for a few minutes but eventually figured out the various buckles and clips. He opted for shin guards and bracers but avoided the body armor for some reason. In addition to the armor, he only took a sword and a holster from the loot pile.

"Aren't you going to upgrade from those pin prickers?" he asked, pointing to my three holstered knives.

Seeing how well-maintained the longsword was, it was likely the better option for fighting.

Unlike the sword, the knives were incredibly fractured and dull, hardly reliable, to say the least. Still, when it came to combat, it was best to stick with what you knew, and I knew knives inside and out. Maybe once we escaped the mansion, I'd learn to use a sword, but I wouldn't risk our successes on a whim.

"No," I grasped my holsters, "these are fine."

Takagi lost interest and moved on. "So, what's her deal?" he gestured toward Agawa.

It wasn't my place to reveal the trauma of others, so I described the events as vaguely as possible. "She was attacked and passed out from exhaustion."

Takagi gripped his chin in intrigue. "Is that how you got those freakish wounds?" he nodded toward my wrists.

"No," I lifted my hands toward a lantern on the ceiling, "I broke out with these."

After laying eyes on my wounds, my mind became light-headed. Though I tried, I couldn't tear my gaze away; my eyes were obsessively chained to my lacerated wrists.

"Hey," he said, "you sure you're good?"

But I couldn't respond. My focus was ensnared by my injury. 

A driblet of blood landed on my cheek, and my body was reminded of how much I'd lost so far. Darkness encroached upon my pupils on all sides as I lost the strength in my legs.

My neck weighed heavily, and my eyes involuntarily closed. Though I struggled, I couldn't stay upright any longer. The last thing I felt was the impact of stone against my spine as it slammed into me.