The walls were huge with pillars as its support, behind the Throne was an effigy, a statue, it looked like a hermaphrodite, asexual, like Blair. The Place was dark, but the moonlight illuminated its grounds, shining through corners it meant to shine. The architecture was deliberate, the walls inscribed with dead words, some looked Latin and some looked old-English, written as if it were a confession of truth, a last resort, leading towards the very center.
I tried to decipher what I could, after all, language was an interest of Mine, at first it was hard to read, some of it was scribbles and some were unfinished.
I spoke the words that I can, a mannerism I adopted back as a child: Change does not change— The Epitome— Irrational— Look.
The Words were utter gibberish, incomplete or at least what it sounded like, in Blair's ears it sounded, a mix of Unholy holiness, the language of gods.
And in His mind, confusion and reverence began, "How can he speak so without dying? Unless—Is he one of them? And if so, Then Am I one of His chosen,..."
"We should be safe here, for now," I said.
"Lor— Uhm, Nicaisse, we mustn't stay here for too long, this is the Dilapidated City, it's lingering with who knows what," Blair replied in a shivering tone.
The Dilapidated City, I don't know much about it, but I've read it once saying it used to be a frontline of war.
"Even the Ministry tries their best to avoid this place, not just pillagers, or bandits, but some say, one of the Most wanted resides here, so much that rumors of how no one in authority has ever been here and returned," Blair added.
His teeth gritting, hands visibly shaking. He is in a very vulnerable state, confused, broken, and lost.
[I must be the one to "guide" him,] we thought.
"Do not worry, give your faith in me," I assured,
"Bu—"
He was about to say something, but I shrugged intentionally, A push and pull.
As we explored for a minute or so, we finally found a way to open the lights. *Click the lights fluttered at first, it wasn't subtle or simple, it opened hanging chandeliers of grand sizes, reaching the very top of the ceiling, it was curved and reinforced.
And at the Side were spiraling large stairs leading above the tower. The lights added shine to the parts that were earlier dark, but moreover, it gave the Box Blair was carrying a bright shine; it was apparently lined with gold, or something of the like.
"About the box," I asked, "What's in it that your Stepmom had to go such lengths just to find and open it?"
"Well—, He paused, I never knew myself, all I remember is how Father always told me not to ever open it, ever," Blair replied with an intrigued look in his eyes, curiosity as to what's so important with such a Box, that it had to cost His beloved house, his old life.
But before we even began to continue
*Bang
A gunshot resonated on the walls of the tower. It came from behind, from the Very door we entered, luckily we were not hurt, and naturally my gaze was directed to the source.
It was a revolver, or something that resembled an old one, it was by the hands of a middle aged man, He looked ragged, like a beggar, a look you can already smell from afar, alongside him was a large man, carrying an axe, and 5 others who looked the same, some were carrying a broken sword, and some sticks engraved with sharp nails and and Iron.
"What kind of history mash-up is this?" I thought.
Then the Men spoke, in a sluggish tone, like they were trying hard to intimidate.
"We never knew some of the people would even dare to step inside our territory, more over inside here in the very center of it," He said, "What are you historians? Or treasure Hunters? Well, doesn't matter, it's all the same, you'll be dying tonight," He threatened.
One of the guys beside him added, "Look, they're carrying something shiny, it seems they actually found some treasure here." The others looked closer and were convinced that it was the same
"Well, well, you're thieves after all, why don't you put it down, and we might escort you out safely?" The other guy shouted in command.
Blair almost followed "Alright—"
"Didn't you just say we would be dying tonight?" I interrupted Blair, "They don't intend for this to go down peacefully, I've seen those looks, they're murderers, plunderers, they justify their killings with whatever reasoning they can find," I whispered to Blair.
The poor kid trembled in fear, but with a still hint of bravery.
"Make sure not to cause damage to the treasure," The Man with the revolver whispered.
Then—
I acted quickly enough as the large guy swung his axe. It was fast, but sloppy, it had power but lacked technique, I could exploit that, but— my left hand was obliterated as I tried to shield Blair, "Quite fast huh?" He said.
I quickly manifested, as I dragged Blair away [Cellular Regeneration], as usual, I was able to stop my receptors cancelling the pain, but I wasn't fast enough to heal a whole torn arm, before the Large Guy punched me away from Blair, sending me across the Throne room.
Luckily, it wasn't strong enough to make me faint.
*BLUDGEEE
"WARGHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Blair shouted in pain as He was being pounded right in the stomach. Blood was vomited out of his mouth, as He was limp on the ground.
"I cannot let this drag on, I must save Blair," I whispered to myself as I saw—
They were laughing
mocking, waiting as if this were just a show
As if it's some sport..., then looking back at Blair, time felt slower, the Laughter, the blood, the weak unable to fight, it wasn't Blair that I saw, it was Kamryn, the Confessors, the Houses, and A world full of people with a twisted sense of Humor.
I tried all I could to stand, but the blow was devastating, and my feet refused my command.
My legs trembled — dead weight. "Stand," I hissed. "Damn it, stand..." As I see Blair slowly reaching his death.
In that Moment, as if resonating with My Anger and Frustration.
He was resonating
Then the clock tower ticked
[You called]
"I lack strength." Tick, Tick, Tick
[I answered]
His voice whispered behind my ear.
And it ticked its last.
[Didn't I tell you? I'm your power, your strength. Allow me to carry the weight that you can't.
The Visionary, one of the prodigies of the High People,
The Lunatic, scorned by many,
The death bringer, the Murderer, is posted in every wanted poster.
NICAISSE KHOLER.
The Man with Revolver shouted, "Hah! Entering these lands, you stepped into the wrong bit, boy, you can't even break our sweat."
I can't believe we actually struck gold. It was like taking candy from a child.
I was watching, waiting for it to all reside, then whatever treasure we get, I would probably use it to enter one of the brothels at the Night Market. I was brimming with joy, but then—
Across the Hall, the other older guy, its blood stood alongside, as if it's pushing its body to stand. Like a spider with its long, slender hands, his blown hands grew in an instant, pointing directly at Bodger as he was mauling the Kid.
"Are... are my eyes tricking me?" I said, as I looked at my other men, who were also taken aback, I then turned back, trying to warn Him as fast as I could, "Bodge—"
*BLOOOOGHEDD
A loud bang shook us all, as Red Mist enveloped the Hall, my vision was obscured, and my nose ached in the stench of what I can only think of as Iron, of Blood.
"Bodger was gone!" said one of my men. He was right. Bodger was gone, no, not dead, not decimated, GONE. What stood in his place was the Man, it looked like He was trying to help the child.
Then he turned, with those bloodshot eyes and a wicked, wide smile.
Everything was silent; it was bright, but it felt dimmed and dark.
Then, only a single word resonated
Sacrificium sanguinis (Blood Sacrifice).
Blair woke up, cradled on the Throne, Rylee has put Him, His fatal wounds aren't found and no Pain was left, His dying body was restored to what it was before, a miracle far better than a typical doctor, it was as if god's mercy had saved him, all he remembered was, Him being a helpless kid, beaten up, useless, pathetic, and While Nicaisse was—
"I can't... what happened?" Blair whispered...
Around him, scattered were red-stained mist, lingering in the air, and the people who threatened them before were nowhere to be found. In that moment, He didn't need any divine knowledge or wisdom of the ancient to understand,
That is not to say that the Men are gone or missing
But in fact,
They're everywhere, scattered in the air.
He questioned himself
What is this being that stands before me...
What fate had crossed my path?
"For He acts like A man, Speaks like a Prophet, Walks like a Demon... and Sees like god"
Then—
*Dhugggg
The large door of the Tower closed, and the air hissed inside.
Nicaisse subsided, like a spider on its web, a hunter waiting for its next prey.
[I'll answer the call of dying, and the ignorance of the living] Nicaisse whispered...
I understood what He meant, and understood more, from the Houses, from Kamryn, from everyone, how this world—
Like any other, "This world lacks no great leader, but rather good people, for you can expect a shepherd to guide a pack of wolves but turn them not into a flock of sheep."
Then this world doesn't need a shepherd— It needs a predator.
Rylee's words resonated with Blair's ears, and with the walls of the Tower, and the Bell rang, as if nodding to his revelation, accepting that it had found its new Lord.
As Rylee was walking towards Blair, without a rush, and each with careful and delicate steps, it held dignity, authority, something Blair had finally recognized.
"I'm sorry— you've saved me twice this moment, and yet...I'm Helpless, Useless,"
I reached my hand towards Blair, like a helping hand for those that had fallen, "Then let me help, in return for your Faith, I will give you strength, and I will give you Purpose."
That moment, Rylee's words, as if stemming from a deep sense of emotion, to dominate and not be dominated, to live even if it cost the lives of others, a new passive power had awoken
[Cognitive Dissonance]
A power writing itself into the fabric of reality, a power not to change but rather to tamper with the emotion of others, a power that infects doubt with conviction, with their very thought process, a power that gives purpose to the lost.
Rylee, No— My Lord, had reached His hand to this lowly me, He had offered me purpose, a purpose I shall receive, Blair had a sudden revelation, "This child is now yours," He responded
As our hands touched in acceptance, something pulsated in response, my brain throbbed, and my vision blurred.
In Blair's Mind, he thought, "If this world is full of useless shepherds (leaders), you above all, would be its cleanser, the one that Predates the Predator, and I shall be your power, I shall be your bloodhound."
For shall fulfill your purpose.
Blair responded to my Offer without hesitation, and with words I jest not.
"If I can expand my own power by neurogenesis, then like other Manifest, I can do the same to Him."
So I began, the ritual I never knew I would do, a ritual that would shock and awe the people from the future
[Enlightenment]
I imagined the picture of Blair's neurons rapidly generating, this time, I had every second, I had control, rush is not needed, and hesitation is not warranted, it's slowly developing from the,
Axon to the Soma,
to the dendrites,
and the Myelination,
to the internal connections, as its Synapse firing in rapid succession, in coordination.
Blair agonized, but not in pain, but in reverence. He held his Pain, as his gums bled from his greeting teeth, and His hands clenched, the feeling of the Brain exploding, frying. It was a process that felt similar to an electrocution,
I was not able to invoke Pain Nullification, for all I focused on was giving him what I could, to elevate His power,
If in this world, I were the Author's pawn, then Blair would be my defector.
That very moment, a name was reborn, A bloodhound— not to beg or to scour scraps, but to feast on the flesh of demons.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A man was running. Not with purpose, but in blind, hysterical fear.
Hurgh... hurghh... hurghhh...
He pushed through beggars, scrap-merchants, and street performers, stumbling past the alleys of the Dilapidated City..
People gazed with discontent, others menacing, and some with a scheming look...
"Helpp!!! Helppp!!!! He looked at me, He knows, He knowssss, It— Came... a demon..." He shouted as He Bumped into a worn-torn tent, illuminated by stolen rusty old lamps. Inside were sketchy merchants, others were Hooded personal retainers, and at the center was a Man and a Priest, in a calm discussion.
"Thank you again for your sponsorship, Mr. Peyton," said the Priest, as He negotiated with Peyton
But it was broken.
"Help, me Help uss!!!," The man shrieked, "It was a descent of a demon." Then screamed in despair
Peyton raised a brow,
"What is this bugger whimpering about? What demon says you beggar?" Peyton replied in a weird way of speaking.
There in... In the tower, a demon a.. a...aaaa— the man agonized as He tore His own face with his fingers, in fear and frustration. "He saw me, He saw me." He mumbled, till He fainted, collapsed even, with His facial skin scraped, and eyes bloodred.
"A demon aye?" Peyton mumbled
One of his retainers leaned down and asked.
"Are ye goin', sire?"
Peyton stood, His sword in one hand, and the other waved in command.
"Gather the Men, no Human would cause such anguish, this is not a hunt, this will be an extermination."
"Whut ayre will we be esterminantin' sire?" One of his men asked, in odd fashion, and Peyton replied.
A HORROR.
Inside the Clocktower...
An Hour after
Blair finally relaxed, as His newfound strength and established faith surged through the very fragment of His character. His eyes gleamed Purple, as He knelt in reverence, different. He was no longer a boy, but a blade of his Master.
"My Lord, I await your word," Blair spoke to me with such a dignified tone.
I cannot let His confidence, His loyalty, unanswered, so I ordered, in the same tone and manner,
His words became the Law in the face of Blair.
If I need to survive then I cannot be idle, but only a fool lets himself be seen... Then—
"The unknown cannot be killed when the spoken cannot be seen. Become my Proxy— cleanse the unclean"
If refuse to just play the script made by the author, If need to be a predator then I must first make this Tower surrender.
"Stay," I commanded as if a master speaking to his dog
"if you're my Bloodhound, then keep all intruders at bay, until your owner returns home," Rylee added.
His words etched a sense of meaning in Blair's soul, and in His words, He followed.