V4C2 Instincts

Jean stood hesitating before the door, grouped soldiers behind him. His wandering eyes fell on their weapons. Some swords, shields, and a uniform of pure energy or armors they had stolen from the demons. Strange, he thought. This vision seemed more absurd than usual? More insecure? He looked around: polished rock surrounded him, containing two corpses lying in blood, soldiers and that door.

Thinking the group was stronger didn't reassure him. It wasn't logic, more like a fear running through his body, a sixth sense telling him they were in danger. That he was in peril. He knew it, somehow. A voice was telling him! If he were to step across this door...

''Jean?'' François said ''We're not going?''

''Of course, we are. Just the time to make up my mind.'' Jean said. ''But...'' he thought about the words graved above the door. Did an easy way out really exist? His logic was telling him not, his mind was naively hoping otherwise. Usually, he would have dismissed the thought and preferred logic, but his instincts tipped the scales.

''We'll wait a few dozen more minutes, take this time to ready yourself, I fear this test might be the worst one. François, Emilie, come with me.''

Jean led them a few dozen meters back, at the now-closed entrance where the trio deposed their shields.

''It isn't like you, Jean,'' François said. ''Making the troops wait like this alone... it'll make them more stressed than anything.''

''I know. Sadly, it has nothing to do with logic, it's like something telling me not to go in - sufficiently strong to pull you guys along. I want you to reason me, to prove me I should go.''

''Well, you heard it too, I don't think there's much-''

''Stop bullshiting me. Why do you think I bring you two out of the whole squad? I know you both knew of the test and, while I can forget the fact you spoke no words of it, I want your thoughts about it: should we trust it or not?''

''Food's running low. We don't know if the last test is yet to begin or is nearing its end. Even if it's true, we might die out of starvation before. It's not like we have many choices, we need to go.''

''And what're your thoughts, Emilie?''

They both looked at her.

''We shouldn't. These words are to be the truth.''

''Why?''

''I couldn't explain it. But anyways, going will surely kill us.''

''And not going will starve us for sure; we've less than two days worth of rations. Plus, we'll need to come back if we actually escape. There's no time nor resource, we'd better go before some demons decide the same.''

''My point, exactly. As much as we need provisions, so do they, and more than us. As long as we wait, they'll clear it for us.''

''I'm not gonna waste my breath on you, priest.'' François turned to Jean. ''Jean, didn't you say you owe me one? Look at my wound carefully, if I could wait for it to heal, I'd have long proposed so. But time is what we lack most. The more time we waste, the more likely the ancient zone is to be discovered, or the whole area covered; I would better fight with near to no chances of winning than dying for sure.''

''I need to think.''

''It could mean treason and death for you, Jean. You better thought it deeply.''

Jean was left alone, no doubts relieved.

They both think we need to go, he thought. But his instincts feared that place. He couldn't go. Were there really no other options?

A strange light flashed across his eyes. No, there was indeed another option. Multiples options.

***

We come back to Jean around half an hour after our conversation. It seems like the limit François thought acceptable.

''Did you make up your mind?'' François asked.''Soldiers are becoming more and more reckless, we can't lose more time.''

''Almost there, you've come at the right time. I wanted to ask you a question,'' Jean said, turning towards us.

His face was relaxed, serene. Too serene.

''Have you got any strange feeling coming since the last fight?''

''What are you talking about?! time is pressing.''

Jean studied his face.

''I'm no righteous knight. No knight can ever call himself righteous as there's no righteousness''

''the hell you're talking ab-''

A flash passed by, blinding me while I fell into the hard rock floor pushed by a hand, a loud sound slamming in my head, hearing gone, and then, there's something on me, one hand gripping my throat as the other searched for my waist.

'Emilie!' Tenebre's will was vanishing as the pressure disappeared.

Opening my eyes, I saw it was Jean, calmness all over his face, Tenebre to his waist, tightly squeezing François throat, face becoming red as his arms uselessly tried to remove Jean's arm. Incomprehension sparkled more than pain; no wounds covered François' body anymore.

Both pure and sacred energy began healing my head. I couldn't die now, I couldn't! An electric-like shock woke up my entire body, sense amplifying, strength surging, mind ricing to conceive a counterattack.

'Come!' I ordered, invisible threads of sacred energy launching towards the demons.

Jean merely watched from above with bored eyes. He slowly raised a foot, slamming it down my chest. I let out a muffled cry, mouth dripping saliva, uselessly trying to struggle.

''Preparing a sneak attack, are we?" Jean snickered, "You'd be already dead if I wanted so. Bind."

Jean's hand drew closer, flooding the atmosphere with black energy. It surrounds us, tackling and enveloping my whole body. Then, it began forming dark straps tying us.

Suddenly, Jean released his grip on François. He fell, ass first, gasping.

''You should just have told me,'' Jean said. ''Tragedies mostly happen when one stops being sincere. Now, we should be able to talk.''

Jean swiftly dodged to the side in disbelief.

A scenery from another world appeared in a circle like an illusion halo. There stood a Jean whose despair could be read in his face. The illusion vanished.

'Our' Jean fell to his knee, barely breathing.

'What had happened?'