SL Chapter 23 Despair of the Weak
"Poor girl, I wonder whether she has anyone we can contact to come get her body." said the old lady, madam Selena. It seems that she also had extensive experience with death as she wasn't as shaken as that actress girl, Frida.
"She was a weakling. Good thing she was the first to be taken out. Her dumbness would have burdened the rest of us, in time." spoke the woman beside Eric's resting form. Her sheathed sword was being hugged close to her chest, yet the posture she had adopted was one where Allan was certain that should anyone attack her or Eric, she would be capable of retaliating. So far, he hadn't taken a step into the other room, where the battle had taken place, but even when he had been disoriented because of the explosion, he had still been able to feel the intensity of the battle.
"Why can you say that with a straight face?! A person just died!" shouted out Frida, who was crouched on the floor, with a puddle of vomit right before her. Her orange hair was a mess, with some of it singed, and her previously fair skin was now marred with both soot and a few injuries. Among all of them, she was the one who had been affected adversely.
"Hmpf!" scoffed Lanaley.
"What?" Frida asked upon seeing the condescending expression painted across the other's face.
"You might be the next one to die after everyone." The moment she spoke, Frida paled before forcefully standing up and walking over to stand before the other woman.
"What about this burden here? Or are you insinuating that it would survive with its current state!" She challenged. Allan almost found the woman's antics humorous. She was akin to a cat challenging a lion in its prime. That was a battle the cat would most surely lose.
"I will protect him. He fought with his life on the line, yet survived. I am starting to wonder whether our boss saw some quality within him that we couldn't see. And don't stand before me with your small body trembling like that. Your stupid guts won't save you if another enemy were to attack." And with that, Lanaley released a potent murderous aura that had the other woman scrambling away, with her face paling a few shades.
"There is no need to get heated. She is now a dead body. All that we can afford her is a proper burial. But for now, it will be better if we were to stay put and wait for our bosses to decide what to do. Has anyone managed to contact them?" Madam Selena asked.
Before Allan could answer that question, the hairs on the back of his nape stood up, causing him to leap away towards the hole in the wall, one breached through the earlier battle. His eyes didn't even leave the entrance of the room. He hadn't been the fastest in feeling that kind of danger, instead it had been Lanaley who had retreated with the unconscious Eric, followed by himself. The granny had been last, and not because she had been slower, but because she had had to grab Frida and retreat with her. The poor girl had just frozen up in the face of that dangerous sensation, allowing the granny to easily drag her back.
The door to the room rippled before exploding in such a way that there were no pieces larger than an inch, but the shrapnel didn't reach any of their positions, only spreading around the entrance.
Steps, ones with a certain rhythm echoed within the quiet room as a figure made its way inside. The fear Allan felt in this moment had surpassed that which he had felt upon the multiple battlefields he had traversed. The murderous aura was potent enough for him to feel as if a tongue was licking the back of his neck. Whoever had entered was a dangerous fellow, one they couldn't handle even if they banded together. For a moment, he wanted to flee, yet he felt a pain within his mind as the Spirit Oath exerted its influence.
"Its interesting how rich kids always fail to do things themselves. They always want to push the task onto someone else, blaming them for failing afterwards... Yet, they don't dare take the risk themselves. Do any of you believe that such people are worthy of being the power holders of the world."
The thing that left the deepest impression in his mind was the creepy crow shaped mask that was eerily similar to the face of a true crow, even mimicking the facial feathers. Through the eye holes, the brightest shade of orange eyes regarded each and and every single one of them with indifference. Even though he couldn't afford to have his attention slip for even a moment, he didn't fail to make out the increasingly obvious trembling of Frida through the corner of his eye, nor the obvious smell of her urine in the air.
"... I must say, this is the first time that a lady has urinated upon laying eyes upon my magnificence! What's your name, girl?" After cackling extensively for a few minutes, the man asked. His voice behind the mask was distorted, and he seemed to have become genuinely gleeful, yet Allan couldn't afford to relax. He could feel his lungs straining to take in each breath due to the debilitating effects of the fear holding his body and mind hostage.
"F-Fr-ida." The woman stuttered out.
"Since you had such a magnificent reaction, I am placing you as the last one to be killed. Now, who's going to tell me where that woman... What was her name again? I can't bother to remember... Anyway, where is that bitch with those weird eyes hiding? Am a bit on a deadline here. If anyone has a great answer, they get to take the second last position, closer to this lady."
Only silence greeted the man's question. That silence stretched out, causing Allan to feel as if needles were surrounding him, capable of stabbing him with just a small flinch on his part. A bead of sweat materialized upon his brow, and slid down. He didn't even try to wipe it off as that might be misconstrued as an attack, thereby causing his death. Fear was a powerful tool. He had never taken the stories of his comrades seriously before when they had mentioned their encounters with Spirit Lords, but now, he was very willing to believe that they had even truly failed to convey the magnitude of what they had really been facing.
"Aha! How could I have forgotten? The Spirit Oath! You won't be able to speak even if you know of their positions! Though, I already knew that. Relax fellows, I was only toying with you. In fact, I already know the location of your boss lady. But because your Spirit Oaths will compel you to defend her at all costs, you will have to die. It's a sad way to die. I know. But that's just what happens when you have to trade away your freedom in a bid to awaken. Maybe in your next lives, you will be born rich enough to not have to go through this... If there is one."
After that, he raised his palm, upon which a golden coin materialized, one which caused Allan's eyes to narrow. He even heard a gasp from his side. It seemed that everyone had finally realized where Jeffrey's coin had come from. And remembering Eve's death caused Allan's face to pale. At that time, the true owner of the ability hadn't been using it. But now...
Allan willed himself to try and move, yet the Spirit Oath within him fought him with all its might. He really really wanted to run away. He wasn't meant to die like this, in a place like this!
The coin was flicked upwards, with his eyes following it as it spun before once again landing within the man's palm.
"... It seems like you get to live another day."
When he spoke those words, Allan didn't feel elation, only puzzlement. What was with that cryptic statement?
Then he felt it, another murderous intent just as potent as the man in the crow mask's, if not more. Then a man walked through the door frame, one who was clad in a plain grey office suit, his scalp covered in short purple hair that only reached the tips of his ears, and the same exotic eyes as the boss lady, allowing some of the weight he had been feeling in his heart to settle down. But not entirely.
"Why didn't you leave, fake crow?" He asked, having stayed by the entrance to the room. His voice was calm, without any fluctuations that would give a glimpse into his true emotional state.
Allan groaned and fell to his knees the moment the man spoke as a powerful spiritual pressure slammed into his brain like a sledge hammer, causing his vision to blur the moment the man spoke.
"Watch your tone, freaky old man! Don't think that because I didn't act, I fear you. So, please, am pleading with you on behalf of your daughter and every child you have in this building. Don't push my buttons." This time, the man in the crow mask's voice came out colder than before, having lost its previous frivolous tone.