Chapter 14 - Similarities

Excellently done," Otto's voice broke the solemn moment of relief—his robe billowed in the morning wind.

"Come along now..." The elder's voice trailed off as my fingers lost warmth and sensation. Warm blood gushed from my chest and arm, soaking my clothes as my vision blurred and darkened.

Why is it... getting darker?

Warm blood gushed from my chest and arm, soaking my clothes. My vision blurred, the darkness encroaching with each heartbeat. As consciousness slipped away, I wondered if I'd ever wake again.

———

My eyes fluttered open to a light tap on my cheek. The first rays of dawn filtered through the ancient, ivy-covered walls, casting long shadows and illuminating the dew-kissed cobblestones.

Sensation returned to my skin as the frigid ground sent a shiver down my spine.

"I didn't think you would last," Otto said. After tapping me awake, he withdrew to tend the fire.

Realizing that the barbarian was only a few feet away, I scrambled backward, trying to put as much distance between us as I could.

Otto broke the tension with a light chuckle. "As I said before, I am not going to kill you."

He must be insane...

"I wouldn't treat your wounds just to kill you," he continued. The morning light reflected off Otto's scalp as he tilted his head upward.

A glance at my arm and chest confirmed his words, but fear was a potent repellent. My eyes stayed locked on him as he poured tea from a kettle.

"Take it—for the pain," he offered with an outstretched hand. Reluctant to accept, I only withdrew further, sliding against the cobblestones below.

To hell with trusting him.

"It took quite the restraint not to kill you," he said, his voice growing dense, "especially after ruining such a fine robe."

I halted my retreat, gazing at his fused eyes in complete disbelief. A cold tremor ran down my wounded back.

I'm sure of it. He can see.

He waved his hand over. "Come... we have much to discuss."

Accepting the invite, I hoisted myself up and limped over to the crackling fire. A thud broke the stillness as my knees hit the ground.

"Quite a night," a grin played on Otto's lips. "Tomorrow will be even better, I suppose."

Tomorrow?

My teeth ground against each other in apprehension. Right then and there, I had a burning desire to take this cup of his and—

"Why did you join the war?" Otto's abrupt question interrupted my thoughts—sending a shiver down my spine.

"It puzzles me... how someone who carries the same scent of a bishop was found in the Southern region, of all places," he mused.

A tempest of anger and bitterness boiled within me. I was nothing like that... bastard. The tea shook as I clenched the cup—almost to the point of breaking.

Otto raised his hand to drink from his tea. "I see... in that aspect, we are quite similar."

Similar?

His remark tugged at my mind. In what way were we similar? This monster could have tea with someone and then kill them the next day.

We weren't similar, not in the slightest.

He set down his cup, only to pour more tea into another one. Why? His actions raised more questions than they answered.

Questions that would soon be answered.

"Would you like some?" Otto directed his words toward me, extending another cup of tea.

Didn't he already give me a cup?

My body twisted back—face to face with a monster. My fingers quivered, my throat became parched, and tears welled in my eyes.

It was Benedict...the Crow.

Each second stretched into an eternity as the Crow's crimson gaze seeped into the very essence of my soul, staining it with an indelible mark of dread and despair.

His familiar yet deathly stench pierced my nostrils like a sharpened spear, leaving an acrid trail of decay. The Crow's noir presence darkened the atmosphere, turning the light of dawn into midnight.

I stumbled backward off my knees—it was as if the ground beneath me had collapsed.

"For today, he won't be killing, but training," Otto continued to speak, but my eyes remained focused on every movement of the cloaked monster. "I wonder why your Dove isn't here?"

"Grhh…" Benedict grunted in response, his silver hair fluttering in the wind.

With graceful precision, Otto lifted the weights at his side and arose from his seated position.

The elder let out a sigh. "Well, I suppose my work here is done."

Done? Was I going to be left here alone with this monster?

A loud thud filled the terrace as he dropped to the ground. My psyche thrummed with anticipation—would I have to fight again? I whipped my attention to the back, expecting to see Otto—but he was gone.

"Grhh," the masked demon grunted in an irritated tone, seizing my attention. My eyes followed his finger, which pointed to the ground.

When did that get there?

On the ground lay an elegant and slender spear, similar to one I had seen earlier. But this one was different.

The curved spear lay flat under the morning sun, its blade catching the light and casting a serpentine shadow. The wooden shaft, reinforced with metal, glinted softly, hinting at the weapon's hidden prowess. Across the spear, a fine collection of beige powder was delicately spread.

I could...

Grabbing the spear and plunging it into the unsuspecting Crow became an enticing idea—but only Masse knew what this monster could do.

Benedict raised the spear with one hand before shifting his unsettling eyes to mine—causing my stomach to turn. Then he snapped it into two as if it was a twig.

"Grhh..." he grunted once more in expectation.

What did he want?

Benedict snapped. He reached forward, placing a hand on my shoulder, and pulled me into a punch from hell.

Damn, it! Right in the ribs as well.

"There are two ways to learn: repetition or blunt-force trauma," Father's words replayed within and proved true once again.

"Grhh..." Benedict released his dread-inducing grunt once more. But following his orders was impossible.

Another punch was coming.

I braced, closed my eyes, and prepared my abdominal muscles for another punch from hell.

But instead, he leaned forward and grabbed the spear fragments, matching them together.

What did he want?