Kennedy and Ezeikel ran away from the carpentry shop, rushing beyond their home.
The old man's movements never decelerated for even an instant, his eyes utterly fixated on the road before him.
He no longer gripped Ezeikel's hand, allowing them both to run freely, away from danger.
"We'll get as far away from The Rumbling as we can, entering into another town if we have to!" Kennedy declared in-between audible gasps.
"But dad, wouldn't that cause more problems for us? The gang that rules Wilston, won't they just slaughter us for trying to jump town?"
"Who told you that?! As a matter of fact, those people would welcome anyone into their town, as long as you have something to offer them."
'That's even more unsettling,' Ezeikel thought.
"Remember, we don't necessarily need to enter Wilston—that's our last resort. As long as the Rumbling doesn't reach this far, then we're safe," Kennedy's words of reassurance failed to calm his restless son.
Their race against time persisted, aching legs pushing through the tension to evade potential death. Father and son travelled past countless run-down enclosures, arriving at an empty space nearing the town's exit.
Questionable salvation was just a couple meters away. Then, Kennedy gave the signal, telling Ezeikel to stop running as he did the same.
Looking around, they could see that they weren't the only ones who had chosen this option. All around them, there were at least a hundred vampires who had rushed to the outskirts of town.
"We're safe at last," Kennedy heaved out an exhausted sigh, turning to his son with a smile on his face.
Ezeikel's breathing remained rough—plagued by the insidious chorus of panic-stricken assumptions. Slowly, he raised his head, unsure eyes gazing back at his assuring father.
'I... really hope so...' he muttered under his breath, feeling the pain of his heart beating rapidly against his chest.
"So... what now?" Ezeikel asked, slightly straightening himself.
"... We wait, hoping that devil doesn't think to come all the way out here," Kennedy eventually responded.
Ezeikel remained silent for a while, assessing their current situation. Then, a shocked expression found it's way back onto his countenance, his lips slowly parting as he addressed the older man.
"... The Abyssal Gang... they're really... k-killing people...? As in, people are being slaughtered...?" Tears slowly trickled down the corners of his eyes, his lips hanging wide open.
"... Yes, that's what currently happening?" Kennedy said. "This is the reality of the world we live in—being at the mercy of those criminals. Any one of them can slaughter countless of us if they do please. The Rumbling is simply an excuse for them not to wipe out the whole town all together."
Kennedy took a pause, observing Ezeikel's expression before continuing:
"A hundred lives—both those you might know and those you don't—ended just like that. Hold on a second, didn't you say you wished to challenge the royals, even if it's just the weakest amongst them?
"You said you're willing to die battling against them. Yesterday, you seemed so sure and confident in yourself, but now, faced with the threat of the Abyssal Gang, you seem different.
"Looking at you now, I don't see any of that bravado you were showing prior. Right now, all I can see when I look at you is fear—fear for your own life, not wishing to die, not here, at least.
"You want to live, yet despite that, you were blatantly stating you would throw your life away, all for the sake of revenge."
As Kennedy spoke, the other citizens continued looking around, calming themselves after escaping death.
When suddenly, one of them, a man who looked to be in his thirties with a receding hairline spotted a tiny dot in the distance. That dot, however, kept getting bigger by the second.
At first, he didn't think much of it. But after realizing the object was approaching their direction, his eyes lit up in horror.
His gazed shifted across, wary eyes communicating what he had just seen.
The others quickly followed his like of vision, realizing the same thing.
Ezeikel's gaze shifted once more to the dirt, lacking the will to look his father in the eyes.
His eyes appeared dull—lost of the vindictive vigor that once brimmed within them. But still, deep within his soul, the embers of hatred still shimmered, unberturbed by Kennedy rebuking words.
'I... I can't... I don't know...'
Kennedy's gaze shifted, noticing the figure rapidly approaching their location.
'Supreme Sovereign... please save us,' that one sentence repeated in his mind, his body trembling as the thorns of fear pierced his soul once more.
"There they are," Darion said, crimson light surrounding his arms.
Darion's figure arrived in the midst of the frightened crowd, venomous malice brewing within his crimson eyes. His fast sprint swiftly turned into a casual walk, each step echoing the dreadful intentions he harboured.
His gaze lingered on every single one of them, the weak townsfolk fearfully averting their faces from the stern figure. Suddenly, his attention fell upon the malnourished youngster, whose heart was infested by an echoing noise piercing his mind, soul, and body, pleading for him to depart from his current predicament, however way he could.
'Don't look up! Don't look up! Don't look up!' he thought in repetition, his eyes frozen still, facing the dirt as sweat descended from his expression in copious amounts.
'T-this bastard...! He killed so many innocent people, and now, he plans on killing us as well,' his jaws tightened, brows knitted closely together. 'Screw him!'
Fear and hatred fought within the catacombs of his dipolar mental state, neither force capable of overpowering the other. He remained at a bothersome equilibrium, unsure of what course of action to take. Yet, one particular thing remained painfully clear.
Act out, and he would be the first to be slaughtered.
Darion's attention lingered on Ezeikel for a while, before turning up to the lightless skies, a mixed expression finding its way to his usual sadistic countenance.
"It was all very simple, wasn't it?" Darion asked, sucking his teeth. "That day, I warned you all to never lay a finger on her, else I would start The Rumbling. I am pretty sure I made myself clear that day, even going as far as using one of you wretches to set an example to the rest.
"You people fear the Abyssal Gang, do you not? You pay us tribute on a monthly basis, constantly following the rules to avoid loosing your lives. You all did everything necessary to ensure you lived to see the next day."
He paused, shifting his feet.
"But then, for some inexplicable reason, you had the audacity to defy my direct order. Not only did you lay your filthy hands on her, but you... murdered her," the menace within his eyes returned, a subtle presence of something twisted swirling deep within himself.
One year earlier...
The putrid landscape of Fluxton teemed with unrelenting tenacity as the locals struggled daily to sustain themselves. All across, locals ran small business in exchange for coins to propel their lives forward how little they could, all in a bit to remain sentient.
Traversing the busy streets, a man in dark fitted leather clothes went about his job as being part of the Abyssal Gang. It was his turn to collect the monthly task from the locals.
Failure to meet the routinely fine, of course, bore its own consequences.
A clothing shop came into view, the lengthy figure arriving at its front entrance. There, a fairly old man with greying hair seated cross-legged atop the concrete platform, whistling a melodious tune as he weaved charming words, striving to entice potential customers to patronize him.
Noticing Darion's presence, the older man swiftly straightened himself, rushing up to his feet as he offered a deep bow to him.
"I greet you, Darion," the man spoke, his presence shivering as he gazed downward.
"Rise," Darion responded, disinterest evident in his tone. "The monthly tribute."
The old man raised his head, his expression darkened as the words escaped Darion's lips.
Suddenly, he fell to his knees, his fingers clasped tightly together as he began to cry.
"Please, Darion, I beg of you. You see, I wasn't able to make enough money... for the tribute. Business has been really slow lately—most people have been patronizing the newer stalls that've been opened recently. B-but I promise you, next month, I'll do-" his words were interrupted, a sudden blow sending his neck snapping to the side, his body flying back before crashing against a wall not too far behind him.
His back collided with the ardent solid, blood splattering from his mouth as his body swayed in agony.
An old woman quickly emerged from the inner part of the clothing stall, a worried expression plastered on her wrinkling face after hearing the loud noise.
"What's going i-" her legs buckled, giving way as she fell to her knees, tears gushing from her eyes as she pressed her head against the floor.