"Now then..." he said, his voice suddenly sharper than steel, "Which one of you... is the Hero Candidate?"
Every eye in the room turned to one name. One thought.
Ben.
But he wasn't in the hall.
Richard narrowed his gaze at the cultist, his mind whirring like a thousand year old machine. He didn't know who this man was.
Or why he was here for Ben. And how he had already known about a Hero Candidate being here.
But one thing he did know?
This day just got even more interesting.
And the game... was just beginning.
As the man asked that, several other hooded figures rushed inside as well as they headed toward the audience and started attacking.
The screams were everywhere.
They twisted through the air like ghosts–raw, chaotic, and full of the kind of fear that stripped the soul bare.
Blood splattered across stained glass windows, once bathed in divine light, now washed in carnage.
The cathedral floor had become a canvas of crimson, severed limbs twitching as if still trying to escape, heads rolling with dull thud as they bounced off the marble.
The hooded figures moved like phantoms through the chaos. Their blades sang death with every stroke.
One cleaved through a crusader's torso diagonally, blood spraying luke a burst pipe, staining the robes of a weeping nun behind him.
And Richard? He was already running.
Not from fear. No. He didn't run from anything. This was more of a strategic retreat than anything.
Alice was right behind him, her breathing ragged and full of panic.
Reid and Elena had broken off earlier to join their parents and their guards. They were mages with real firepower.
Good.
That meant fewer liabilities.
But Beatrice... she was shaking like a leaf caught in a hurricane. Richard grabbed her hand, his grip firm as iron.
"Move!" He barked, dragging her toward the backroom.
As they passed a hallway, Richard glanced to his left.
A child's severed arm lay crumpled on the ground luke a discarded doll's limb. Blood trailed along the walls in thick streaks.
A woman's voice screamed just before being abruptly cut off with a wet schlk. Then a body hit the ground outside with a boneless thud.
"Tch".
They burst into the backroom and bolted the door shut.
Richard spun around, his eyes scanning the room.
As they were leaving before, he tried searching for Evelyn, but he couldn't find her.
Most likely already escaped. Maybe she went to save the children at the orphanage.
He turned to Alice and Beatrice. Both pale, both trembling. "Do either of you know any spells that match your affinities?"
Their silence answered him before they even shook their heads. Alice's lips quivered. "I–I just awakened. So did Beatrice."
'Figures.' Richard thought, but didn't say it. He should've known. Afterall unawakened weren't allowed spell books till they awakened.
Unless you know, you have someone who has a spell book.
Then he clicked his tongue. "Fine. I'll do it my self."
Moving to a nearby table, he saw paper, but no pen.
Improvising, he bit into his thumb. Blood welled up, thick and dark red. He then began to scrawl symbols and words onto the paper, each letter precise despite the urgency.
The incantation wasn't long, but it was powerful. He handed it to Beatrice. "These are fire incantations. Recite it exactly as written."
She looked at the blood-stained page like it was poison. "W-Where did you get this...?"
"Later," he snapped. "Just know that if you don't use it, we all die here."
Alice gave him a sharp look. "You're not even a mage. So how do you even know those incantations?"
Richard offered a smirk, teeth red with blood. "That's... a secret."
Then he opened the back door—and the horror doubled.
Began Hills, their town, was a hellscape now. Flames rose in the distance, houses charred black as soot.
Screams echoed through the alleyways, cut off one by one. The sky above was a hazy orange, thick with smoke and death.
He could see a group of civilians trying to flee but then a cloaked figure appeared from the shadows, slicing two heads clean off in a blink.
Shhhink–THUD–THUD
Alice clamped her hands over her mouth while Beatrice almost threw up.
"Stay together!" Richard barked, as he dragged them along the church's edge. "Eyes open!"
From behind, one of the hooded figures noticed them.
"Run!" Richard shouted, pulling Beatrice forward.
The figure blurred toward them, balde gleaming like death's fang.
Beatrice, still trembling, raised the bloody incantation with her free hand.
Her voice trembled as she said, "Exuro hasta. Ignis Lancea!"
The air ignited in her palm, forming a burning spear of flame. She thrust it forward–unsteady, clumsy–but the spell responded.
FWOOOOOM–THUNK!
The flaming lance pierced the cloaked man's chest, bursting out the other side. His scream ripped through the street as fire devoured him, his hood falling to reveal a blackened, melting face before he collapsed into a smoldering heap.
Beatrice froze, eyes wide in horror at the sight bit Richard didn't give her time to grieve over it.
"Let's go!" He yelled, yanking her arm and sprinting.
He passed a corpse hanging from a broken window, it's intestines draped like decorations.
A young boys leg lay under a broken bench. The stench of burnt flesh and blood was thick, clogging the air with metallic bitterness.
As if a light bulb lit up above her head, Alice glanced back toward the church as she whimpered. "My mother... I–"
"Later dammit!" Richard growled. "Right now, survival is our priority!"
As they rounded a corner, a cloaked figure battling a crusader landed hard in front of them.
The impact crack the ground, dust and blood flying. The figure turned toward them, madness gleaming in their eyes.
He started moving–
But then Richard saw it. A vehicle just parked a few meters beside them.
"There!"
He rushed forward, dragging Beatrice. Alice followed, eyes darting behind her.
The hooded surged forward, only for the crusader to grab him mid-motion. They began clashing again as their weapons rang out like bells of doom.
Richard opened the door and shoved Beatrice inside, then Alice. He then jumped in.
When he entered, he saw that the key was still there and exhaled. "Praise my past self..." he muttered.
He then turned the key and...
Vrrrm–click.
The engine purred to life.
"Any chance any of you know how to drive?" Richard asked as he turned to the two of them.
Both girls shook their heads, obviously still terrified.
"Great. Time for a crash course."
He gripped the wheel, shifted it to reverse when–BANG!
The entire vehicle lurched. The roof dented as something landed above with the weight of a predator as the metal groaned.
A voice then followed.
"Who's there...?"
It sounded distorted, almost devilish even. So much so it made the girls freeze instantly.
"Come on out..." it gasped. "I can smell you, you know..."
Richard grit his teeth.
"Hold on."
He slammed the gear into reverse.
VROOOOM–CRASH!
The car shot backward, slamming into a wall. The figure on top screamed as he lost his grip.
Richard didn't wait–he slammed into drive and jerked the steering wheel hard.
The vehicle swerved in a brutal fishtail motion–centrifugal force doing the rest.
The hooded figure was flung from the top with an audible CRACK, crashing into a nearby vehicle with a metallic CRUUUNCH.
His hood fell as he crashed and his red hair spilled out, dishelved and wild
His face–young, early twenties–was marred by a jagged scar running down his left cheek. He spat blood and laughed as he looked up, his eye twitching like a rabid animal.
Richard's gaze lingered for only a second before he slammed on the accelerator.
VROOOOOM!
The vehicle surged forward into the fiery townscape of Began Hills, past corpses, past ruined homes, past the smell of burning wood and flesh.
They didn't speak.
Not because they didn't want to.
But because the silence was better than the truth.
They weren't safe.
They were just... less dead than others.
And as for Richard?
His smirk had returned.
Even powerless, even surrounded by blood and horror and screams...
This was his world. The world he was accustomed to.
And...
The world he enjoyed the most.