27 Rune-Therapy

Once Michael's weapon passes the thief's neck, blood immediately shoots out like a hammered ketchup sachet. The thief drops his knife and clutches his throat to attempt to still the blood, but his windpipe quickly fills up with the crimson fluid, causing him to produce gurgling and choking sounds as he drops to his knees.

Michael just looks down at the knife with a distant look on his face, the runes on his left hand still shining as their effect lingers... His momentary daze is interrupted however when the coachman makes himself known via stepping on an unfortunately placed stick.

Michael's eyes shoot towards the man, and before he's even able to process the information a silver streak leaves his hand... His body had thrown the knife.

The coachman had the wherewithal to try and run, but his attempt had always been destined to fail. The silver streak flies through the air and pierces the base of his skull, instantly killing him as his brainstem is severed.

However, with the loss of his weapon, the Gandalfr runes fade, allowing Michael to drop to his knees and begin wrenching, hacking out spittle and stomach acid onto the dirt road as he processes what just happened.

The warmth of the thief's blood lingered on his face and hands, making him want to cut them off to be rid of it... Even now, he could feel the sensation of cutting through the thief's neck. As if he'd become infinitely familiar with it. It wasn't far from the truth either, as the clarity provided to him by the runes almost forcefully embedded the memories into his psyche. He'd make a joke about the runes being a 'knock-off Sharingan' were he not so distraught by what he'd just done.

Sure, he'd accidentally killed Guiche not two days ago, but there was a huge difference between accidentally killing someone at a distance, and slicing their throat while face to face with them.

A few minutes pass and Michael finally releases a shuddering breath, his sweaty, clammy hands trembling as he survey's the area. He does his best to ignore the three corpses as takes a seat on a nearby stump, trying to compose himself...

He know he'd likely have to kill again, but that didn't make this any easier... His prior thoughts of decimating armies alone now seemed foolish and incredibly arrogant. Not to mention a huge disregard for human life.

The only thing that really gave him comfort was the fact that these guys were terrible people. Thieves, kidnappers, and one of them even tried to rape him... Even if he didn't know their history's and how they lived until now, he could make a good guess of where they came from, and where they were going to end up.

Who knew how many people they'd hurt until he came along? They seemed fairly familiar when they were trapping him, and with that man's earlier words, he felt sick to think about what they'd done to their past victims.

Michael spits on the floor to try and clear his mouth, but this doesn't achieve much aside from aggravating his already overworking gag-reflex... Shaking his head, he shakily gets to his feet and walks over to the thief with a sliced throat, ignoring the blood pooling beneath him and picking up the dagger he'd been holding.

When making contact with the weapon, his runes blared to life yet again, suppressing his roiling emotions for now. With clarity overtaking his mind, he eyes the area again, quickly determining the most efficient way forward.

First things first, looting the corpses. He knew from watching documentaries that the smell of blood would soon attract predators, or at the very least, he didn't need to be seen standing over three bodies.

With the runes preventing him from acknowledging the fact that he'd killed these men, he quickly starts checking their pockets, clothes, and anything else they might've kept hidden on their bodies. Three coin pouches and two more daggers, one of which he had to pull from the skull of the coachman... That action alone almost knocked him out of his rune-granted clarity, but fortunately, he managed to suppress his reaction for now.

He would have taken their clothes as well, had they not been blood-stained and much too large for him to actually wear... It was better to leave them here than risk anyone discovering them... He couldn't use them for much other than tinder either, so there's that...

As for the sacks of loot the thieves already had stored on the carriage? After opening them up he finds a number of rings, necklaces, and luxurious-looking clothing. Michael wasn't sure how the currency in this country worked, nor how much even a piece of bread was worth, so there was little chance he'd be getting a good deal on this stuff... Not to mention the fact the original owners might come looking for them... Judging by the delicate engravings on the inside of some of the rings, they must've held some importance at one point or another.

As for the clothes? After checking them over, most of them weren't even close to fitting him properly. As had been the case most of Michael's life, he cursed his body's seeming inability to grow to a normal height... At least in that aspect, that's one thing he and Louise had in common.

He shakes his head as thoughts of Louise make themselves known, idling himself by trying on some of the clothes to see if any would look natural when worn... Even if they didn't, he didn't want to be sitting out on a cold night like this wearing what amounted to rags.

Eventually, though, he managed to find 'something... He wasn't too sure if it belonged to a man or a woman, but it was close enough to his size that he could wear it.