My bloodline grants me superiority over all!
Jorel bellowed, his voice laced with an almost frantic arrogance. He delivered a final, bone-jarring punch to the man's face. His hand momentarily lodged in a grotesque tear on the man's head, the impact sending a spray of black tar.
The man merely swayed, a morbid fountain of blood erupting from his mangled face and exposed gut. His multi-limbed hands froze mid-air, twitching. A horrifying wheeze tore from his throat, black particles like necrotic dust spewing forth as he revealed teeth as black as decay.
Then, with a pale, chilling shriek, he flexed the muscles in his numerous arms.
"Team! Team! Team!" The man shrieked, his voice an unholy chorus. His many hands darted forward, each seizing Jorel.
Jorel was instantly immobilized, yet no hand struck him. They simply tugged, a relentless pull that left him utterly helpless.
"Ahh!" Jorel cried out, struggling against the unnatural grip. A searing agony, sharp and profound, lanced through him, sinking its teeth deep into his very bone marrow.
"Arghh!" he screamed again, coughing as the pain was a relentless tide that consumed his breath. The man's grim smile painted across his black teeth and simply stared while his hands still lightly pulled at Jorel.
This… can't be it!
Do something, goddamnit!
…Nnngh!
Jorel thrashed, but the hands held him fast, each movement intensified the excruciating pain.
BLOBP!
Then a lone, spherical earth bubble erupted from the ground between Jorel and the multi-limbed man. Jorel's fading gaze fixed on it, bearing a flicker of confusion amidst the agony that replaced the air in his lungs.
In the blink of an eye, two figures burst from beneath the earth, their emergence momentarily distracted the man. His grip loosened, and Jorel, seizing the opportunity, he broke free and scrambled backward to put distance between himself and the monstrous being.
More earth bubbles followed in the wake of the ascending figures, obscuring Jorel's view of both them and the man. One of the airborne bodies screamed as it began its descent, while the other braced for impact.
They landed with a jarring thud, and then a sword, gleaming faintly, clattered onto the ground, rolling to a halt at Jorel's feet.
Hmm…?
His attention, snatched from the falling figures, now fixated on the sword. As his eyes landed on it, they widened.
"M-My sword!" He bent, snatching it up, his fingers caressing the sheath as he admired its familiar form.
"But how? This was taken by that peasant." Jorel looked back, the metallic clunking of dented armor echoing in the clearing.
"Ughhnn…" Burtu groaned, a low, pained sound.
Jorel slowly retreated, his mind reeling from the chaotic flurry of events. Instinctively, he then drew his sword, raising it in a defensive guard.
The multi-handed man, his arms still held aloft, shuddered as they appeared to retract, shrinking back into his gut..
"..." Marichi's eyes snapped open, and the first thing he saw was the man, the very same man he had stabbed earlier, yet who refused to die.
His body reacted on pure reflex, springing up and moving away, he then took the stance of a coiled predator as the earth bubbles continued their slow, ethereal dance.
Wait… It's that same man! How didn't he die?!
Marichi grunted, his hand instinctively going to the dagger in the pouch on his lower waist.
"You…" Jorel's voice rose in a sharp, accusatory tone as he recognized Burtu through the gaped bubbles and black particles.
"You tried to kill me!" His teeth gritted, as his tone fermented into pure hatred.
"You had the effrontery to do such! To me?!" He scoffed, his disdain palpable while he pointed his sword at Burtu.
"S-Sir J-Jorel…" Burtu's heart clenched. He then quickly rose and scrambled towards Marichi.
"I really hoped you died, you pious bastard!" he muttered under his breath as if venom laced his whispered words.
Jorel?
That name…
Marichi's thoughts raced as he focused on Jorel.
It can't be…
"Tch!" He scoffed.
…So he did survive…
Marichi's face paled, but the hand gripping his dagger tightened, his knuckles stark white.
But more importantly…
He can't see my face!
His mind raced, swiftly tearing a piece of cloth from his sleeve and wrapped it from his nose below.
"Oh, it's you!" The strange man turned his attention to Marichi as he tied the makeshift mask.
A grim smile stretched across his black teeth, his hands hugging himself in a grotesque embrace.
"You came back!" he shouted.
"See! I said he'll come back." A lower, conspiratorial whisper followed.
"Yes, yes, yes, he did." Then, a higher-pitched mumble.
"Told you he will."
"Ohh, shut up!" A deeper, resonating tone emerged from him, his body trembled violently.
"They're here now… So they'll be part of my Team!" He snarled, raking his fingers across his own flesh, drawing black blood.
Jorel, Marichi, and Burtu watched the man, their bodies recoiling in horror as the earth bubbles slowly drifted away.
"Where are you and you and you going to?" Two of the man's hands plastered themselves to his face, while three others pointed accusingly at the trio.
"There's even nowhere to run to," he grinned, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
Marichi swallowed the lump in his throat feeling as if it were a heavy stone.
"How are you still alive? I slit your throat and stabbed you in your head." He stepped forward and slowly moved to the side, circling.
"Me? You talking to me, right?" The man pointed at himself.
"Right?!" he shouted, digging a finger into his own flesh.
"Yeah, it's you…" Marichi hesitantly confirmed.
How does he even seem to have more hands now?
He sighed, a weary exhalation.
"Hey!" Jorel's voice cut through the air, stern and sharp.
"And who are you?" he calmly questioned, his expression a mixture of disgust and contempt, as if he'd just witnessed a rat vomiting.
"The one with cloth over his face." his voice lowered, dripping with disdain.
Shit!
Marichi's eyes locked with Jorel's, a silent challenge passing between them.
"First, I fall into wherever this place is," Jorel grunted, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
"I almost died to something I couldn't even see, and oh, also fought a strange… man…" He gnashed his teeth, waving his sword vaguely in the man's direction.
"Not to mention a pauper's rat tried to kill me." He sighed dramatically, placing his fingers on his eyes.
Thanks, Slov…
Really could've just sent a messenger…
He thought sarcastically, the bitterness evident even in his internal monologue.
"Now I'm with some strange man, a peasant, and now a thief." He raked a hand through his medium-long, golden-brown hair and tapped his foot repeatedly.
The strange man also tapped his fingers on his mouth and watched them, seemingly struggling to stifle giggles.
"Sir Jorel… Please, you really have to forgive me." Burtu dropped to his knees, bowing his head to the ground.
"I-I was so afraid that I lost all reasoning!" He screamed, his voice strained.
Heh…
From what I've heard and seen…
A little groveling is seen to do the trick.
Burtu smiled sinisterly, his forehead pressed against the ground.
"Forgive? Heh…" Jorel scoffed, a sneer twisting his lips. He started to walk closer, his sword still drawn.
"And what exactly gives you the right to call me a peasant?" Marichi's sharp but challenging voice cut in.
"Huh?" Jorel was momentarily nonplussed.
The man's focused on them both, silent, his hands relaxed while his black teeth were seen.
"So what? Just because you're a noble?" Marichi lowered his shoulders and twirled his dagger.
Such disrespect!
Jorel hissed in his mind, his anger simmering.
"You do know who you're talking to, right?" Jorel waved his hand dismissively in the air.
"Oh, I do know who you are," Marichi chuckled, a low, unsettling sound.
"But I don't care."
He lowered his head, his eyes fixed on Jorel like a viper, cold and unblinking.
It's always the same with you nobles…
Always the damn same.
The corners of Marichi's mouth curved upwards, a mocking smile.
"Peasants truly never learn." Jorel muttered, grinding his teeth.
Great… He's shifted his attention from me.
Burtu smiled.
Ten and that brat seem to be occupied while that strange man looks like he's concentrated on them.
This is my chance!
He smirked, slowly rising and creeping away with the man's head fixed on Jorel.
"Look, I don't have time to stroke your petty itch." Marichi's voice dropped while he felt as if insects crawled under his skin.
"I think neither of us do at this moment." He added, his gaze flicking to the man.
"We have bigger things to worry about." He tightened his grip on his dagger, his eyes locking onto the strange man.
He called me petty?
How… How…
Dare he?!
Every fiber in Jorel's body tensed, his head bowing, not in defeat, but in a silent, grudging agreement with Marichi.
"Oh… What a shame," The man said, his voice tinged with feigned sadness.
"I wanted to watch people fighting, it's been sooo long." He stretched, a series of grotesque pops emanating from his joints.
---The end of chapter 27---