43 A sweet and gentle thing

<span style="font-size: calc(var(--rem) * 1px * 1.0625); letter-spacing: 0px;">They woke to the sound of explosives.</span>

A fire erupted with panicked cries and barking dogs. Leonel was already up, and Julian hissed as he tossed the blanket off his body.

"What in the world…" He growled in annoyance, hands reaching around for his glasses. They were handed to him directly in his palm, and Leonel was before him as though nothing had happened the night prior.

"We need to get out of here," the Inquisitor replied tersely and tossed him his walking stick while Julian was still trying to fix his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Though he yelped, he caught the stick tossed to him without any trouble. "Don't rush me!" He hissed, "and don't think I'll let you off on what you've done to me the night before!"

Leonel rolled his eyes, "Do that later. Not now."

The Inquisitor kind of had a point.

The house's location was still kind of central, and now the city was alive with rife.

What kind of rife was still unknown… It seemed that everyone and their mothers had been chasing them down during the night, but what now? Were they fighting each other? Just what as going on.

Without the time to ponder over the details, Julian climbed to his feet. His right leg was both sore and numb; he probably slept on it funny after the abuse he'd suffered the previous night. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he followed Leonel out into the hall. The door opposite to their's was still shut.

Leonel wasted no time and knocked. "Open up! We have to go!"

The door flew open, revealing Illysa's panicked visage, "We can't! W-We can't!" She repeated desperately, her eyes darting back and forth, from Julian to Leonel. "Mother-- I-I mean Anderina has a fever!"

Julian cursed and pushed past the taller man blocking his way, "Let me see."

He couldn't say that this was a surprising outcome. Anderina's wounds were plentiful, and the poor women required rest and care that Julian couldn't provide without his tools of the trade. A pity he couldn't bring them along for the trip.

Anderina's brow was like a furnace, her breaths long and dragging, and eyes stared out blearily.

He had already checked her wounds for infections. This might be something else, something internal. A deep sigh escaped his lips; the motion outside was nearing. He almost swore that he could hear something cry out, "Fuck the Divine Light!"

He looked to the side, seeing Illysa's pale visage and Leonel's frown.

A call had to be made.

Leonel was already glaring at him as if trying to communicate something that he couldn't quite understand. Hence, Julian just smiled and turned to Illysa instead, "How fast can we travel out of the city from here, while avoiding the main roads?"

Illysa blinked, her eyes teary, "I-I know a way…! We're close to the Dump, and it's harder for the guards to find us there... but the people in the Dump can be scary. And also…" Her eyes veered toward Julian's right leg, and he understood her meaning.

It was bad enough that he was a cripple, but now there was this sick woman to deal with a well. Leonel had only two hands. And not to mention he was the only one among them who could provide protection reliably.

"One of us will have to stay," Julian said bluntly.

Leonel's reaction was a wordless growl, and Illysa's eyes widened in horror. "W-what are you saying!?" she cried in terror.

"Well," Julian explained calmly, "How many of us can protect ourselves? And how many of us are currently mobile? Of course, there is also the option of remaining here, and we can all perish in the crossfire of whatever is going on outside!"

Illysa's face was pale, not liking any of the options being presented. Her heart was galloping, in attempts to flee. But she couldn't escape. There was no choice.

From the bedside came a dry cough. Anderina's chest heaved, her red-rimmed eyes blinked. "…let it be me. Leave me behind. I will only slow you down…"

"Absolutely not!" Illysa shrilled, her hand squeezing the frail woman's, forgetting that Anderina's digits had been thoroughly beaten and bandaged. She whimpered upon realization and released them as though burned. "I'm not leaving you here!"

"I will…only slow you down…please. Please protect my cute girl." Her voice cracked against her throat. She was looking up, a silent plee to the men who stood at her bedside.

"Stop that nonsense," Julian chuckled, "We came all this way for you, how could we even think of leaving you behind after all that effort?" Though in his mind, he also knew that Anderina was the best candidate to be left behind.

It was either her or him. The latter option was a good possibility as well, and Julian wouldn't contest it if he were voted out.

But Leonel suddenly cut in, "How about I propose something else then? Something that doesn't involve leaving someone here to die."

"Oh?" Julian rose a brow. "I'm listening then."

Leonel drew in a breath. It might not be the best idea. He too, knew that leaving either the woman or Julian behind was going to increase their chances of getting out of their predicament. But he found himself oddly reluctant on both fronts.

"Alright so…" the Inquisitor began.

…

The city was trembling under artillery fire. People screamed as they scrambled out of their shambled houses. Nathaire marched forward, her visage glassy and calm.

A townsman snarled at her angrily, "This is all your fault! This wouldn't have happened if you fuckers hadn't come into Fauster! You should have just left our affairs to us! We don't need your shitty Witch Slayers or your High Bishop!"

She did not react to his provocation and said with a soft lyrical voice, "Surrender yourself to the Divine Light. There is yet hope for redemption."

"Take your fucking redemption and shove it up your fucking asshole!" The man spat.

"I see," Nathaire hummed absently as she raised pointed her Witch Slayer forth. The tip of the blackened blade dripped red.

The man paled at its sight. His earlier bravado fled in a single instant. With a horrified screech, he shuffled backward and made a turn to run.

Too slow.

The black spear tip pierced his heart. Blood pooled out of his mouth, and with a heavy thud, the man fell.

Nathaire hadn't the time to say her prayers. A rain of bullets came from her right. Her reaction was lighting, spear twirling like a makeshift shield, deflecting the glowing blue bullets coming her way.

On her right side was a narrow alley. A cityguard with a pale visage startled when he realized that not even the magitech weapon in his hands could pierce through Inquisitor Nathaire's defenses. He wasted no time to dash into the labyrinth of alleys, hoping that his superior knowledge of the city would help him outrun the monster in the shape of a woman.

There was no such hope.

Nathaire was like a rabid wolf, who hunted and mulled down anything that crossed her path. She chased down the cityguard and cornered him with her superior speed and strength.

He cried, the fear wrecking his body from inside out, eyes bulging. He raised the weapon and aimed it at her; pulling the trigger to no avail.

He'd run out of bullets.

"Surrender yourself to the Divine Light. It is not yet too late." Her delicate features were slapper with little dots of blood. Her lashes lowered in a half-lidded gaze. She was likened to an angel in appearance, her red hair fluttering in the whispering wind.

A monster.

A beast.

The man cried in his heart hopelessly. He threw down the Blue Iron Weapon and put his arms desperately. "I surrender!" He shouted. "I surrender to the Divine Light so please spare me!"

For the first time, she smiled—a sweet and gentle thing. Nathaire's Witch Slayer stabbed right through the man's throat. Blood gargled, he stared at her in shock before she withdrew her spear, letting her drop dead.

"May the Divine Light receive your troubled soul," she whispered a soft prayer before turning her attention to the weapon that had been left, discarded.