In the Exiled Mansion
Mercenaries.
Once knights, once mages. Once men who raised banners in the name of a kingdom, a crown, a continent.
They do not fight for justice. They do not bleed for oaths. They do not mourn the dead.
They only now march for Zevi and nothing more.
And so, after seeing a mansion with dead knights guarding the gate, and the twin masters of the Hart household tied inside the carriage, their next action was predictable.
"Loot!"
One of the three mercenaries, holding a staff, exclaimed in his most joyful expression whilst saliva poured out his mouth.
"You're thinking of looting that mansion?"
The second, a wiry man with a crooked grin scoffed and adjusted his grip on the axe in his hand.
"You've lost it."
"What?! Think, idiot. If we free the twins, what will that gain us? Only a forgettable reputation and a small chunk of Zevi!"
"But that's the rumored mansion of the Archduke. Look at the crest! You want to rob the family that trains with zaen-hardened swords since they're toddlers?"
The third one, silent until now, crouched beside one of the bodies slumped at the gate.
"Fools."
He said.
"Both of you, shut it a sec. Look at this."
He peeled back the knight's cracked chestplate and pointed to the jagged hole in the knight's chest where the heart should be.
"Straight through the armor. All four of them have the same wounds."
The other two responded in unison,
"Huh?! What does knowing that—"
"…You're saying one guy did this?"
Even though they both had always argued, they were still in the same team as all of them were friends— or rather, friends with the third mercenary.
The third one stood and brushed off the dust off his gloves.
His gaze turned toward the mansion.
"Exactly. I'm saying one person walked through four trained knights like they were nothing.
"And I'm saying... if that person's still in there, and we go in—"
He gave them both a flat look.
"We're looting for our ruin."
"...?!"
"...?"
Step.
Thus, the third mercenary only walked back towards the carriage.
Step. Ste—
"Ughk-kh…"
But just as he barely took three steps, a gurgling sound escaped given that a hand of what seemed to be that of a wolf punched through his back and pierced his chest.
Blood sprayed out.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
He was the strongest among the three. It was not because of him being able to wield a weapon or cast a magic, but his ability to weave the ever-flowing zaen like a puppeteer.
And yet…
Cough.
He turned around right after.
Behind him stood a figure draped in black with a half-mask with a design of the wolf covering the upper-left portion of his face.
"Wha—"
The figure pulled his hand out.
Thud.
The mercenary's knees buckled. The light in his eyes faded before his body collapsed forward.
But even before the corpse even hit the ground, the staff-wielding mercenary (the one who wanted to loot the mansion) already turned his heel and rushed to escape, riding a fairly-huge boulder.
The other one remained.
The wolf-masked figure rotated his heel and readied itself to chase after the one who ran, but the one holding an axe stepped into his view and halted him.
"You better escape, idiot."
He whispered to himself, though it was meant for the one who ran away.
Without any hesitation, his veins pulsed as he lifted the axe above his head in a full arc and pounded his feet on the frost-laced ground with enough force to break the crust of ice beneath.
He launched forward.
Swoosh!!
The axe came down and sliced the air with a roar of displaced wind.
But the masked figure did not block it as it was obvious that even his wolf-transformed hands could not block a soaring axe.
Instead, he shifted his weight onto the ball of his rear foot and pivoted his body in a smooth half-circle.
Blast!!
Snow exploded as the axe struck ground where he stood a second before and jagged cracks formed across the frost.
"Die!"
The mercenary snarled, yanked the axe free off the ground, and spun into a wide horizontal slash meant to bisect his opponent from hip to shoulder.
But the wolfed-hand— wolf-masked— was already moving and performed an uppercut slash with his claws that, in that moment, seemed like a scythe.
Metal met muscle.
But not as the mercenary intended given that his arm got split open at the wrist as his bone fractured under slice.
Blood splattered in an arc behind him as his grip failed and the axe flung from his hand, spinning twice in the air before embedding itself blade-first into a nearby mound of snow.
Thud.
The mercenary staggered backwards, and his face groaned in pain as he clutched his ruined limb.
Step.
The wolf-masked figure took a step forward. His right-hand was still human, but his left was that of a wolf.
His right hand, still human, clenched into the fist as he rotated it for maximum impact.
The punch landed square against the mercenary's jaw and his feet left the ground as his body twisted lifeless midair.
Step.
The figure walked towards the mercenary.
Slowly.
There was no use in chasing the one who escaped now, given that he might have already reached the village of exile.
Thus, he just focused on the matter on hand.
The mercenary groaned, still alive, but cannot open his eyes as his body was intertwined on itself like a rope.
"Don't hold a grudge against me."
The wolf-masked figure stood over the fallen mercenary whose body still twitched faintly in the snow blood bubbling weakly at the corner of his mouth.
He kneeled down shortly after.
Step.
He planted his right foot beside the mercenary's ribs and leaned in.
"I was just ordered not to leave any witness."
There was no weight behind his statement.
Slowly, he his wolf-like left hand downward
His claws plunged through flesh, muscle, and ribs as he carved a path until the mercenary's heart. He snapped it free from the tendons and began to pull his hand back.
As he did, the wolf-like features began to recede as fur shrank back into skin and claws turned back into that of a human nail.
"Though I…"
He lifted the half-mask just enough to reveal his mouth and pale lips pale before he chewed the heart.
Still munching, he added:
"...I have failed to accomplish it."
Munch.
Nevertheless, he still continued to eat it. When it was done, he spat a piece to the side.
"Bitter."
He complained.
Glancing sideways, he looked towards the first mercenary he killed earlier.
"I wonder what 'his' tastes like."
Step.
He began walking toward the first corpse.
Step. Step.
But then, he halted his steps as he saw the twins behind the stained glass of the carriage, watching him.
He just stood still.
Though he was ordered to not leave any witness, and so not to kill the twins. It was what Eden had ordered him, and he cannot actually defy it given that he was now tasked to follow her commands at least, until the Archduke returned.
After all, the twins were most likely not to talk about this given that if they did, they would be accused as the one behind this predicament.
In all honesty, even the two knights who followed them here were the ones off-duty.
Step.
Still, though the figure decided to leave them alone and leave the scene immediately, that will only happen after he gets to taste the heart of the other mercenary.
Step.
Step. Ste—
But then again, just as he took a few steps, an arrow made of ice pierced the ground where his next step should be.
He immediately halted once again.
After all, he did not have to think of who was the one behind it.
Eden.
They still have somewhere on their next stop to visit.
Thus, he dashed toward the corpse, tore out the heart, and took a bite.
"...Tastes the same."