Chapter 12. Who Are You
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*"What's going on, Ferr?" Giles asked, approached the young man with his curly hair, who operated the camera; also procured the device that allowed them to eavesdrop on the conversation below.
Ferr checked his equipment, scanning each component. Everything was intact—no glitches, no failures. He clicked his tongue, his brows knitting together.
"I've no idea," he admitted. "Everything checks out. The only possible issue was with the connector. You know…" He hesitated; unease crept onto his face. "And it's… Hmmm… expensive."
His tone carried more than just concern for the camera—it mirrored his feeling about Old Tigo's situation, of how helpless he was, not even with Sir Giles being there.
…
Lifting Tigo by the hair, Lucca jabbed a finger behind his left ear, digging into the flesh. Beneath the skin, there was a very small, almost naturally occurring swelling.
"Uhhhhh…" Tigo softly groaned, his body tensing as the pressure increased.
Mayor Lucca eventually extracted a small metallic object that resembled a spider.
And he recognized it immediately.
This was an outdated device used by people from the Central to listen covertly to the conversations of others.
Due to its low production cost, a few of the Vanguard squads still employ it for reconnaissance, espionage, or surveillance against organizations or individuals suspected of posing a threat to the empire.
With a slow smile, Lucca crushed the device in his palm, letting its remnants scatter to the floor.
"Nice one. So, you're in it too, huh, Tigo? Not enough to mingle with the Underside—you even work with them? Now tell me. Where is it?"
With an immense effort, Tigo shifted his body, turning his shoulder, neck, and eyes slowly; to meet Lucca's gaze. After much grunt and heavy breathing, he finally succeeded.
Face to face with him in his blurry sight, Tigo's rage surged.
He spat directly onto Lucca's face, who simply closed his eyes in response―a mixture of blood and saliva landed on the latter's face.
Tigo scoffed in a contemptuous tone. "Heh, you loser. Over my dead body!!"
One of the guards scrambled forward in panic, hastily offering a handkerchief to Lucca.
The mayor apathetically accepted it, his expression unchanging as the guard quickly retreated to his original position with inaudible steps.
Lucca took it without looking and dabbed his face. His indifferent stare remained fixed on Tigo, who was busy gathering more saliva and blood in his mouth, preparing for another round of spittle.
"Crrraacccchhh…"
Just as Tigo was about to spit again, Lucca pressed the handkerchief to Tigo's mouth, gagging him, then drove his fist right into the center of his face, breaking his nose.
The blow sent Tigo crumpling, his head striking the hard ground with an awful thud. Blood spilled onto the floor.
Lucca seized his collar, dragging his barely-conscious body upright.
"C'mon, Tigo, stop this folly. Tell me!!? Where is it?"
Tigo coughed, his voice a rasping whisper. "If the Central is so amazing, why don't they come here themselves? Let me guess. Germs. The bastards gag at their own filth. Damned pussies, dumping their trash and gagging at the stench. Even animals have better morals than any of you. LOOOSSSEEERRRR."
Lucca's grip tightened.
"You know they'll torture you again? If the Central arrives, they'll rip through your mind. You will lose everything—even yourself. Your fight will mean nothing. Their deaths will mean nothing, too."
Tigo's teeth clenched in rage. His voice, shaking but unbroken, rose to a furious snarl. "Don't you dare mention their death right on my face!!! From the very first start, you can stop all of this. But you didn't, you coward. You wretched monkey. It was all your fault. Coward!!!"
Blood, tears, and spit—all spurted onto Lucca's face, who closed his eyes once more; a silent acceptance, even though he could easily block it.
Seizing the moment, Tigo summoned all the strength he could muster and moved his head, attempting to bite Lucca's nose. The major instinctively jerked his head back, and Tigo's audacity was met with another punch.
Tigo hit the ground, his body motionless save for the labored rise and fall of his chest.
"C'mon. Tell me!!?" Lucca's frown deepened as he leaned down. His patience was thinning.
Tigo coughed, each breath gurgling through blood. A rattling sound, sharp with dying laughter.
"Try me," he rasped. "Go on—cough—cough—give it a shot." His lips twisted into a grin, smeared crimson. "Here's a hint. My magic didn't die from injury. No. I spent every last drop locking my mind. Try it—TRY IT. Let's see how many of them I take down with me."
His laughter turned to hacking, choking on his own last effort to defy the fate forced onto him since he was still a child.
***
Tigo's eyes blazed with a fury and resolve amidst his soaked sweat and bloodied body.
Lucca raised his eyebrow. "So, you let yourself become this old and sickly just to hide it?"
"Ha, at least I'm not like you, who submitted willingly like the trash you are. Even if it means I'll be damned forever, I won't betray the others who died for this. Even Jess and Kris, those two scaredy cats, died like the heroes they are. What about you?!!!"
Lucca's fingers twitched. His gaze, once indifferent, sharpened into something dangerous.
"What about me? What about me, Hahhh!?"
His voice cracked with fury, climbing to a raw crescendo.
His features twisted, contorted by an unchecked rage that had long festered beneath the surface, clawing for release. What had once been a composed mask shattered—anger bursting forth like a dam finally breached.
"You fools—what the hell are you fighting for? For the same bastards who stabbed you the moment they got the chance? We bled for them. Trained for them. Protected them. And yet, the second they got a taste of gold, what did they do? They betrayed us. Every single damn one of them. Did you forget how the others died? Did you?!"
He gritted his teeth, forcing his voice low. His fury did not lessen; it simply condensed, dense as coiled iron.
"But not all of them are in the wrong. Lots of them are innocent. Have you lost your mind to blame everyone your eyes can see?" Tigo flared back without fear. He also slowly unlocked something deep inside his mind as his sight gradually returned to normal.
Lucca exhaled slowly—an eerie calm washed over him, unnatural in its stillness.
"… They are innocent. Yes. Until they aren't anymore."
Lucca's neck twitched. A subtle yet unsettling, grotesque movement.
For a fleeting moment, Lucca's eyes glazed over. Hollow. Vacant. As if something foreign had passed over his soul.
While this happened, Tigo's heart galloped.
He widened his eyes in horror. His breath hitched in his throat as he noticed something sinister writhing beneath the skin of Lucca's face. It began at the exposed flesh of his neck, a ripple that slithered upward, weaving its way under the taut skin.
Tigo's sight was drawn to the corner of Lucca's right eye. Countless tiny legs emerged, writhing in a macabre dance.
The sight was reminiscent of a millipede, but far more disturbing―an abomination that defied nature itself.
"Wha-what. What are you? … Who are you?" Tigo's trembling lips tightened as he anchored himself to comprehend the mystery behind what was happening to Lucca, his old friend from the past, when they were still knights under the Central Region.
***
…
(A/N)
(2) "The Central" in fact served as the capital and the very heart of the Eschaton Empire, strategically located at the midpoint of the Four Vassal States. The current events of the novel unfold in Ralrain, one of these four vassals, specifically within the city of Mirthwater.
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"Who are you???" Old Tigo demanded, his voice gripped in fear.
The insect vanished, scuttling onto the top of Mayor Lucca's head, disappearing beneath his slicked-back black hair. A slight bulge pressed against the strands—a hidden grotesqueness.
Lucca shook his head from side to side, as though shaking off an unseen weight.
Then, slowly, his face returned to its usual coldness, his expression detached, distant.
A guard, who had accidently caught a fleeting glimpse of the horror, shivered uncontrollably, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he struggled to swallow.
Lucca's gaze flicked to him.
The guard stiffened even further, his body locking in place. Sweat soaked the fabric of his uniform.
Fortunately, the mayor's attention did not linger. He turned back to Tigo, who stared, mouth hanging open in trepidation.
The mayor began, "I hate to repeat myself, Tigo. Where is it?"
His voice, now hoarse, carried an echo of another voice that lingered closely beside his own.
A voice that Tigo recognized came from a…
Woman.
Tigo's breath hitched.
"You… you're a witch, aren't you?" His words faltered, a trembling accusation. "What are you? I've never heard of a witch controlling an Igniter's mind—"
"Arrrgggghhhh…"
The thought shattered mid-sentence.
A spine-chilling scream suddenly tore through the air.
Bloodcurdling.
Agonized.
Even the nobles, many of whom had been lazily reclining in their chairs, half-asleep and bored, flinched, startled by the sudden eruption of the horrific pain.
The source?
It was Lucca's fingers.
They had plunged into Tigo's stomach, twisting inside him as he liked with brutal force.
Tigo convulsed, choking in his torment.
"Tell me… Tell me, Tigo! Where is it?"
Lucca's voice slipped back to its normal tone as he withdrew his hand, blood splattering in his wake.
Tigo gasped for breath, his body shuddering from the horrendous pain. He formed words without sound, but Lucca could read them—words drenched in venom.
"Die, you little bastard!"
The mayor replied with a smile. Cold. Empty. "You are as stubborn as ever, comrade…"
A tear unwittingly escaped the corner of his left eye, rolling down his cheek like an afterthought.
Tigo's eyes widened in incredulity.
Shock.
Recognition.
Struggling to articulate the tangled words within him, Tigo finally spoke.
"...Y-you… you're still there, aren't you, Lucca…? Eh…"
*Jleb*
A blade sank into Tigo's chest, directly pierced his heart. Blood splattered onto Lucca's aloof face as he released Tigo's collar, allowing his body to crumple to the ground.
The knife was unlike any ordinary weapon. Its handle, thin and twisted, closely resembled human fingers with a tree root-like texture―something that was born, far beyond normal human craftsmanship.
Lucca's voice barely held emotion. "You're still as foolish as ever, Tigo."
Death crept closer.
Eyes empty, looking at the sky. Tigo exhaled one last drained breath, his limbs shuddering in erratic spasms. Blood seeped beneath him, pooling like ink spilled across the execution platform.
Ran, who witnessed the scene, covered her mouth. Fresh tears blurred her vision. "Grandpa Tigo…!"
Yet even in his final moments, Tigo's thoughts remained defiant.
"Not yet… It isn't over yet…"
Then—suddenly—the black mist erupted.
It spilled forth from his body, pouring from his mouth, his eyes, his ears—expanding, curling through the air like living smoke.
The five nearest guards barely inhaled a wisp of it.
And yet, within seconds, they convulsed violently.
Their hands desperately clawed at their own throats, gasping, choking. Their faces darkened—shifting into a sickening shade of purple.
Something inside them was biting, consuming; tearing them apart from within.
…
On the other side…
Once the device began to emit nothing but static, white noise, those at the building's rooftop could only watch helplessly.
"Sir Giles, can you… hic. Can you do something?" Ran voiced trembled, slick with grief.
Sir Giles shook his head, eyes weary.
"I'm sorry, little Ran… But I can't. The Central guards are protecting those nobles. If I intervene, they'll retaliate. And if we're exposed, it would be too dangerous for you and the others."
He replied, casting a glance at El and the boy next to Ran, whose name was Gill.
"So, even someone like you can't fight them, teacher?" Gill swallowed hard, repeatedly blinking his swollen eyes from the earlier cries.
He and El had quickly wiped away their tears before facing the others.
Sir Giles sighed. "I could handle four or five. Any more? Well, it's hard to say. Remember what I said that time, I'm a former knight, yes. But injured…"
"Then don't," Gill grumbled. "Let's just stay here."
"Yes, we stay." Sir Giles exhaled. "But you kids need to leave, now—"
He barely finished the sentence before Ran and Gill shouted in unison.
"NOOOOO!"
Their voices reverberated, raw and stubborn.
El, who stood on the side, awkwardly smiled.
He quietly shrank as he noticed the attention of the others, including Sir Giles, had turned to him, expecting him, being around the same age as Ran and Gill, to join in their protest.
'What the heck… Why are you all looking at me?!' he wanted to shout in protest. 'I didn't even know those people down there! This isn't my pain—I just got caught in yours! I'm here because I'm curious! That's all! Yes… It's just curiosity…'
But his quieter self-won.
Instead of speaking, he timidly lowered his gaze.
Ran turned back toward the execution grounds, only to end up crying once more.
Her lips trembled as she weakly uttered, "Grandpa Tigo…"
And in that moment—just when her sobs had begun to quiet— the black mist expanded.
It swiftly consumed the entire execution platform.
Creeping.
Swelling.
Pouring toward the citizens near the gates.
Toward the nobles who had lounged in comfort, entertained by the spectacle.
Now, they stirred.
Uncertain and extremely disturbed.
"What is that?" someone murmured.
But no one had an answer to that.
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