Fifty-Second Time’s the Charm
'Probably should have cut the ropes around my wrists'
Emile ran through the dissipating essence still searching for Blood. He arrived at another intersection and stopped.
Closing his eyes, he listened to the world around him. There were doors opening and closing. Locks clicking. The awkward jumbling of wood clanking against itself as the puppets searched the hallways.
'Where the hell is he?'
He heard Chief Khon yelling at his subordinates and the ting of swords colliding. And then he heard something he hasn't heard in quite a while; the unnerving laughter of the guardian.
Emile ran towards the cackling woman, sure that Blood was also in hot pursuit. He turned down another corridor and found the decrepit woman walking between an intersection.
Moments later, he felt the ground beneath him shake as tremors traveled through them. Emile stopped running and looked ahead at the guardian.
"They say the fifty-second time's the charm!" Blood's voice traveled through the hallways and found Emile's ears.
Blood's behemoth arm shot past the wall into frame. It was reaching forward, open palmed, ready to grab the woman's head.
Emile blinked and then Blood himself appeared in the frame. Like a car crash, Blood bulldozed over the frail woman, crushing her head into the floor, stomping it into mush until it finally turned to sparks.
Blood straightened his back and composed himself. Looking around he noticed Emile and the crazed look captured in his eyes faded away.
"Oh, hey man!" Blood waved with his monstrous arm.
The two came together in the middle of the intersection. Emile hasn't seen Blood for the past few days since they've both been occupied with hunting. Overall, the Blood Prince looked the same.
"What's with the rope? You into that stuff?" Blood chuckled.
"Just get it off, idiot." Emile held his hands up.
"And no—not into that stuff. Khon and his little gang found me." Emile said.
"Oh… that's not good."
"Also, apparently that Drake you fought destroyed their village or something. Khon's pissed." Emile told him while rubbing his raw wrists.
"Eugh—" Blood strained the muscles in his neck and made a weird, disgusted sound, "not again."
"Again? I'm sorry, again?" Emile pushed.
"Hey this losing streak is gonna turn into a winning streak eventually, I'm telling you." Blood argued.
"Losing streak?!" Emile shouted, "Against what?! Enemies you can't beat?!"
"Yet!" Blood corrected, "Can't beat yet!"
For a few seconds Emile couldn't respond. He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask more questions like 'why,' 'are you an incompetent moron,' 'were you dropped as a child,' important questions like those.
But he didn't have time. Khon was on their tail and this was the final trial. There was nowhere else to go.
"Okay! Well we have to fight Khon eventually or somehow get out of here while running from them."
"Is that guy here?" Blood asked, "The guy who obliterated my shoulder?"
"No. Thank God." Emile said.
"Gods." Blood corrected.
"What?"
"Nothing. I guess they're dead anyway so it doesn't matter." Blood trailed off.
"There they are!" A man's voice echoed down the hall.
Emile and Blood simultaneously looked down the hall. Khon and his gang just entered one of the opposing intersections and now the two groups were only separated by the length of the hallway.
"Wow. That's good timing." Blood commented.
"Could you just give me the dagger!" Emile demanded.
Like usual, Emile ran the fine point of the blade across his shoulder. Blood used the fresh fluid to further reinforce his colossal arm, forming a layer of hardened crystal around the points that didn't move.
He also molded a thin layer of crystal around his real hand and added spikes to his knuckles. With the rest of the blood he constructed a crystal chest plate and layered the section protecting his heart.
"What is this?" Emile asked, "What happened to the spears?"
"I'm experimenting with new combat styles. Get off my back." Blood hissed.
"Right now?" Emile gestured to the group of men sprinting towards them, "You're experimenting right now?"
"Are you ever happy or do you just enjoy being a soul-sucking parasite?" Blood turned and faced Emile.
"You couldn't even begin to understand the complex range of emotions you put me through. You are, and I can't stress this enough, a psychotic—"
A rope suddenly locked around Emile's waist and was violently pulled down the corridor. Emile's body lifted off the ground and tumbled down the hallway.
He stopped himself from rolling and sat up, now he was just being pulled down the hall, his butt sliding across the floor. With Blood's dagger in hand, Emile cut the rope around him and quickly got on his feet.
He looked down the hall and locked eyes with the man holding the rope. Emile made up his mind. The rope guy was going to die first.