The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackling of distant flames and the ragged breaths of the woman huddled against the wall.
The blood-soaked man's head swiveled with unnerving slowness, his eyes, previously fixed on his prey, now locked onto Elias. They were not human eyes. A cold, predatory light gleamed within them, and Elias felt a primal fear coil in his gut, colder than the damp stone beneath him.
The man's lips peeled back from gritted teeth, revealing clenched jaws. His eyes, already alight with that cold gleam, suddenly flared with a blinding, intense rage that pierced Elias to his very core. It was the unmistakable gaze of a person driven to their absolute limit, consumed by an explosive, barely contained fury at this audacious and utterly inexplicable defiance. A low, dangerous sound, like rock grinding against rock, vibrated in the man's throat, but his eyes, fixed on Elias, were the real message
Release me now.
Every muscle in the man's arm tensed, a dangerous human pushed past his limits. He tried to pull his arm free from the unexpected man's grip, a slight, almost dismissive tug that nevertheless nearly tore the man's arm from its socket. Elias gritted his teeth, holding on by sheer instinct, knowing that letting go meant the sword would finish him.
As Elias held on, the man's strength intensified, a raw surge of power against the construction worker's desperate grip. With a snarl, a cold, guttural demand ripped from the man's lips, "Let go, you bastard—" Before the words even fully registered in Elias's reeling mind, a heavy, armored boot lashed out. It connected with Elias's stomach in a sickening, bone-jarring impact.
A choked-off grunt, not even a scream, was all Elias could manage. The world tilted. Pain, sharp and blinding, exploded through his abdomen, stealing his breath. His grip on the man's arm dissolved instantly, fingers splaying uselessly as he stumbled backward, clutching his stomach with both hands. He doubled over, gasping for air, the coppery taste of bile rising in his throat as he collapsed to his knees, utterly winded and disoriented.
The man stood over him, his chest heaving, his gaze flicking from his now-free sword arm to the pathetic figure on the floor. His eyes narrowed, a spark of baffled fury joining the cold rage.
How dare this nobody..? -wait, How did he even get here?
Then, with a sudden, violent motion, the man's hand clamped around Elias's throat... he was yanked upwards effortlessly, his feet dangling uselessly above the stone floor, his back scraping against the rough wall. The man's face, now terrifyingly close, was a mask of cold fury and genuine, disbelieving confusion.
"Who are you, dog?!" The man's voice, though still guttural, was laced with an unnerving calm that was far more menacing than his earlier snarls. His eyes, burning into Elias's, narrowed further.
"How did you appear here, within this room?! My men should have swept every corridor, and cleared every shadow! Not a single rat should have slipped through! Speak!".
As Elias struggled for air, the world swam. His throat felt like it was in a vice, every breath a desperate, ragged wheeze.
"If... you- [a raw cough tore from his lungs] you want me to speak [another painful gasp] then let me go you goddam bastard! Let...[coughs] go of me!" he rasped, defiance burning in his eyes despite the agony.
With a furious grunt, he grit his teeth and, gathering what little strength he had, lashed out with his foot. His kick connected with a dull thud against the man's armored side, the impact jarring his own leg more than it seemed to bother his captor.
A flash of renewed, cold anger flickered in the man's eyes. He didn't even flinch. Instead, a dangerous sneer spread across his face, and his grip on Elias's throat tightened further, cutting off what little air remained.
"Struggle if you must," the man's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "It will gain you nothing but pain. The answers will come, one way or another."
In the meantime, as the man remained entirely focused on Elias, the young woman, still huddled against the wall but no longer under immediate threat, saw her chance. A flicker of survival, fierce and desperate, ignited in her wide eyes. She could try to escape.
Yet, as she looked at the struggling man who had, against all odds, tried to save her, a new, complex emotion stirred within her – gratitude mixed with a terrifying sense of obligation. Even through her fear, she couldn't simply abandon him.
Her gaze darted around frantically, searching for anything. Amidst the debris and blood-splattered floor, her eyes landed on an unfamiliar, bright yellow object lying near the broken chair. It was undeniably alien to this world, strangely rigid and curved.
it is most likely the same peculiar head-covering Elias had worn when he abruptly appeared, likely having fallen off during the subsequent struggle. It offered a potential, albeit flimsy, weapon.
With agonizing slowness, praying for the man's continued distraction, she began to crawl. Her movements were deliberate, each inch gained costing her a silent struggle against her own trembling limbs. She held her breath, her gaze occasionally flicking from the bizarre yellow object to the two men locked in their brutal, suffocating conflict. Only a few inches separated her outstretched hand from the object.
But at that precise moment, the man's head twitched. It was an almost imperceptible movement, perhaps an instinct honed by countless battles, or merely the shift of his gaze from Elias's face to his struggling body. His eyes, already blazing with fury at Elias, now slid, with unnerving slowness, towards the young woman. Upon seeing her reaching, his sneer twisted into a fresh mask of shocking, incandescent rage.
"Lady, Anastasia.. how touching. ", The man's voice, though still fixated on Elias, dropped , carrying a chilling undercurrent that seized the air. His eyes, already alight with fury, now fixed on the young woman with a cold look that exuded the aura of a predator. That predatory gaze halted both Elias even in his strangled state and Anya, spearing them with a primal fear that pierced their very core. Anya froze, her arms and movement halted midway, it won't move no matter how much she tries, in her head, desperately screamed
Move!.. please move!
The man's gaze snapped back to Elias, a fresh wave of brutal intent replacing the predatory focus on the woman. "You...stay still.." he snarled, his voice a guttural rumble. With a sudden, explosive heave of his powerful arm, he launched Elias.
The world spun in a dizzying blur as Elias became a helpless projectile, propelled across the chamber. He slammed into the wall with a sickening thud that vibrated through his bones and fell to the floor, leaving him breathless and dazed, a new, searing pain erupting in his back and head.
Dust motes, disturbed by the impact, danced in the flickering light of the distant flames. The man then turned his full, terrifying attention back to Anastasia, his voice a low, chilling command. "I have a more pressing matter to attend to." His eyes, burning with a cold, absolute resolve, narrowed as he looks back in such a cold gaze towards Elias. "So- stay put... outsider"
The man's menacing command echoed in the chamber, but Elias barely registered the words. His entire world was a throbbing kaleidoscope of pain. His ribs screamed, a sharp, searing protest with every ragged breath, and the back of his head throbbed from the impact against the unforgiving stone. He lay crumpled where he'd landed, every muscle screaming, a useless, pathetic heap.
Through the haze of agony and the dust motes dancing in the air, Elias watched, powerless, as the man began to move. Slow, deliberate steps carried the blood-soaked figure across the room, the glowing sword still clutched in his hand, a beacon of terror. Each measured stride brought him closer to Anastasia, who remained frozen, a statue of pure horror, her hand still outstretched towards the strange yellow object.
A jumble of thoughts, frantic and contradictory, warred within Elias's reeling mind.
This was it. He had completely, utterly messed up.
He'd charged in, propelled by some idiotic, instinctual need to help, and now he was broken, useless. He couldn't even stand, let alone fight this monster. This wasn't some back alley brawl, this was a force of nature, a predator with no equal. He had been so out of his depth.
Why? The question burned, sharp and insistent.
Why had he done this? Why was he trying to save her?
He didn't know this woman. She was a stranger to him. He had no grand ambitions, no heroic destiny. All he wanted was to graduate, to escape cheap foods, to live a normal, quiet life. He had willingly walked into a maelstrom, all for someone he didn't know, someone who was clearly already condemned.
He could have stayed hidden, watched, and probably survived. Now he was just a broken mess, and she was still going to die.
A wave of crushing helplessness washed over him. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs refused, screaming in protest. He gritted his teeth, a guttural sound escaping his bruised throat.
What could he possibly do? Nothing. He was nothing here.
And that was when his eyes met hers. Anastasia's face was a mask of pure terror as the man approached, a chilling tableau of impending doom. But amidst that horror, Elias noticed something else – not just a tremor, but the fierce, desperate contortion of a will refusing to break. Her vibrant, deep violet eyes, wide and bloodshot, were rimmed with angry red veins, swollen from unshed tears and the constant, silent screaming of her soul.
Every muscle in her neck and jaw was taut, her teeth gritted so hard her cheeks seemed sunken. It was the raw, agonizing visage of someone who wanted to live, who fought with every fiber of her being, even as her body betrayed her. He saw the almost imperceptible tremor in her outstretched arm, a primal will pushing her frozen body inch by agonizing inch towards his discarded hard hat. She was trying. She was still trying to survive, clawing for any sliver of hope, even against impossible odds.
A wave of bitter self-loathing washed over Elias. Here he lay, complaining, regretting, even internally blaming his own misguided impulse, while she, facing certain death, was still fighting.
How pathetic was he?
He was no hero, that much was clear, but he wasn't a coward either, not completely. Not when faced with that raw, undeniable will to live. He had intervened once; he couldn't simply abandon her to her fate now, not when she was still clinging to life with such desperate tenacity.
He clenched his jaw, a guttural growl escaping his throat. A sharp, metallic tang filled his mouth, blood welling up from where he'd bitten down, but he barely registered it against the roaring pain in his body. Every muscle, every bone, screamed in protest. His back felt like a splintered board, his ribs a cage of broken glass. The impact with the wall had knocked the wind out of him, but this pain was deeper, more fundamental. It felt like his very essence was being torn apart.
But he grit his teeth, the intense adrenaline and a surge of grim determination overriding the agony. The brokenness of his body was absolute, a relentless tide of torment, yet a single, burning thought ignited in his mind
Move damn it. Just move!
He clawed at the stone floor, ignoring the grinding agony in his shoulders, pushing with legs that felt like lead. Each shift was a fresh wave of nausea, each breath a struggle against the crushing weight in his chest. His vision swam, pinpricks of light dancing before his eyes, but he forced himself forward.
With a final, raw surge of will, Elias pushed off the floor. It wasn't a graceful leap; it was a desperate lunge, a broken man propelled by sheer, unadulterated resolve. He stumbled, half-crawling, half-shoving himself across the floor, driven by a singular, grim purpose, directly towards the man with desperate, unwavering determination.
He screamed to ignore the pain he was experiencing, "Hey bastard! I am not done yet..!".