His fingers twitch slightly, the leather of his half-palm gloves creaking softly under the movement, as he weighs her words, his mind clearly turning over her offer. Finally, he lets out a low sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
“You certainly know how to corner a person,” he mutters with reluctant smile.
Valencia chuckles softly. “I take that as a, yes?”
However, Velchanos falls silent and a heavy, ill-intentioned air surrounding him.
“How much do you know about this?” he lifts his gloved hand slightly.
Valencia hesitates, sensing something is wrong. “I…I kind of put together the pieces from today’s speculation, so I’m guessing you are cursed with the type that prevent you from using your ability,” she slowly moves backward while the unease creeping into her voice as she realises the gravity of the situation.
“So, you know.” His tone stern and clipped, but his eyes showing a glimpse of hope of something… something unreadable.
Disregarding of method she uses to come to that conclusion; he didn’t expect her to have thought that far to reveal such a precise answer. He let out a low sigh, shoulders slumping in a gesture of reluctant surrender.
“I’d wished you hadn’t said the right answer,” he mutters, his palm presses against his face.
He remains silent for a moment, contemplating. With deliberate movements, he removes his gloves—something he’s been hiding this entire time. His fingers are covered in a stark black hue, the colour extending only to the tips of his fingers, as though the darkness was slowly creeping down his hands.
He stretches his fingers and flicks his wrist, black tendrils of energy swirl around his hand. A long silver blade materialises in the air, its edge gleaming with a menacing shimmer.
Valencia’s eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping her as the weapon forms in front of her.
“You said you couldn’t use your ability!!” Valencia snaps, instinctively falling into a defensive stance as she leaps back. She lands several metres away, eyes locked on the alarming man.
“It’s not so simple.” He casually lifts the blade to rest on his shoulder, watching her movements.
“I am to only use my ability for , or someone who speaks of my curse.” He pauses, his gaze darkens as he stands in place.
“And the condition is…” he continues, the gravity of his words and situation settling in the air between them. “I must kill the one who knows.”
“And I must do it within 72 hours, starting now. If I don’t…” Velchanos’ voice turns cold, like a blade ready to strike. He makes his move toward her, their eyes now locked on to each other.
“I die instead.”
Without warning, Velchanos suddenly lowers the sword, the blade’s edge pointing toward the ground before striking.
Valencia barely manages to dodge with her super reflexes, the steel splicing past her throat by mere inches. The air hums with the force of his swing, her heart pounding at the sudden attack.
” she thinks, body moving on instinct as she leaps back further.
The brown-haired man doesn’t hesitate, pressing forward with swift precise strikes. He moves like a predator—efficient, merciless. The woman twists and ducks, narrowly evading each of his blow that slices through the space she occupied just moments before. Despite the sharp pain from her previous injuries, she holds her ground, weaving through his attacks with agility.
“She can still move like that, even with those injuries?Velchanos mutters under his breath and his grip tightening around his weapon.
She retaliates, shifting her weight before sweeping her leg low in a sharp under kick, targeting his balance. But the moment her foot connects, a jolt of shock hits her, he doesn’t move an inch.
Velchanos exhales, “Not bad for a patient.”
Before she can recover, he drives forward again. Valencia barely dodges, but the movement throws her off balances. She stumbles backward and crashes to the ground, the air wrenched from her lungs—just as his sword comes down toward her chest.
In a desperate surge of strength, she raises her hands and catches the blade in her palms. A sharp sting tears through her skin as cold steel bites into flesh, but she grits her teeth and holds firm, stopping it, if only for a moment.
Towering over the weaken woman, Velchanos presses the tip of his sword closer to her chest.
“Don’t hold it against me. Either you die, or I do.”
“Time out!!” Valencia suddenly blurts out as blood from her palm drips onto her chest.
Velchanos blinks. “…Are you kidding me?”
“I want to say something!”
“Your last words?”
“Now I get it! You’re using your ability to kill me because I know about this curse of your.”
Velchanos exhales sharply. “Congrats, you’ve caught up…”
“And I said, I know someone who can help you! Weren’t you listening?!”
He scoffs.
“A healer won’t work on this, if that’s what you’re thinking.” But something in her expression makes him falter, and his grip on the sword loosening slightly for a moment.
“I never mention any healer,” Valencia corrects him, her arms trembling from the strain of holding his sword in place. Her breath comes in shallow bursts, but her voice is steady.
“The person I know is a curse specialist.”
A flicker of doubt and hope crosses Velchanos’ features, but it disappears quickly as it came. “That person exists?”
“You haven’t given me a clear answer so I will say again.” Valencia takes a steady breath. “In exchange for removing your curse, you will protect me until I regain my ability. And I won’t forget to help you with something in return after. Then, we can be on our separate ways. How’s that?”
For a second, Velchanos says nothing. His gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that makes Valencia nervously wonder if she has finally convinced him. The silence stretches, filled only by the low stir of wind weaving through the streets.
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His fingers twitch slightly on the hilt of his sword, the exposed skin of his hand tightening with deliberation as he weighs her offer. He finally discharges the sword, and it vanishes into thin air.
“Fine,” he answers at last.
“I’ll accept the deal to protect you. But if your person fails, our deal is considered over. You know what comes next.”
“Deal,” Valencia replies, her tone light with a hint of relief. She shuts her eyes for a moment as she sits up, allowing a brief pause to breathe.
As she extends a hand to seal the agreement, Velchanos reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her up with a firm motion.
Velchanos glances over her, “So, how are you holding up? Any broken bones, cracked ribs, or is it only the bleeding from your palms?”
Valencia looks at him with a sarcastic smile. “Oh, you know, just the usual. Previous injuries, now bleeding hands… nothing too serious. I’m doing fantastic,” she quips.
“Well, well. I’m very sorry,” he apologises as he pulls out the extra bandages and first aid supplies he’d bought earlier along with her clothes and necessaries. He moves toward her without a word, gently wrapping the bandages around her palm to stop the bleeding.
A thought seems to strike Velchanos while he’s tending her wounds, and his gaze narrows slightly. “Since we’re apparently partners in crime now, how about some proper introductions to make up for all this?”
Valencia’s eyes widen slightly, letting out a soft laugh. “Oh, how silly of me. Forgetting to introduce myself to the person who nearly killed me,” she says sarcastically.
Velchanos smirks, the playful glint in his eyes returning. “Forgot to introduce yourself to the person you just roped into a life-threatening deal? That’s some first-class etiquette.”
Valencia chuckles, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Well, let’s blame it on Theodore,” Straightening her posture, she offers a more formal introduction.
“I’m Valencia, blood-bound extraordinaire, taking abnormal commissions in the night, and archivist for the Obsidian Vault during the day. And my caffeine intake knows no bounds.”
Velchanos snickers softly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, holding back his laughs. “Well, when you put it like that, who wouldn’t be impressed?”
“Flattery noted, Mr. Velchanos,” Valencia says with a teasing grin.
“Enough with the formality, just call me Velchanos.” His tone was dry but good-natured. “I’m a criminal psychologist. Part-time problem solver for the police and, as of today, apparently your bodyguard.”
Valencia gives him a playful side glance, “Having a job like that won’t have you turning into a criminal yourself, would it? No wonder you’re always so serious.”
Velchanos chuckles, his sound low and smooth, a hint of dark amusement and sadness in his voice. “I’ve seen enough of the darker side of the world to keep me from joining it.” He shifts his stance slightly, his gaze still lingering on the city below. “It’s the people who think they can control the darkness that are the real problem.”
“Not to mention those who abuse it for their gain.”
“Looks like you’re not just a bookworm, after all. You’ve got a sharp understanding of the world, Miss Archivist.”
The blue-haired woman looks at the man, the hint of a smirk fading as her words settle in. “Working side commissions… they can lead you deeper into the darkness than you think. .”
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The sun hung low in the orange sky, casting long shadows across the dense forest. The leaves rustle gently in the cool breeze, and their movements whisper in eerie waves of dancing woods and branches. The air is thick with the smell of earth and moss, and the faint chirping of distant birds creates an almost uncanny atmosphere.
Valencia and Velchanos walk side by side, their boots crunching against the uneven dirt path. The path leads deeper into the heart of the forest, the towering trees above them growing closer together, their crooked branches intertwining like long skeletal hands.
“How much longer do we have to go?” Velchanos asks, glancing at Valencia from behind.
“We’ve been travelling for five hours…” she ponders, “We are close. I’d say around 10 minutes.”
As they quietly venture deeper into the forest, the light begins to dim, swallowed by the thickening canopy above. The path becomes uneven, with tangled roots rising from the earth, forcing them to carefully step over them.
The forest around them grows darker each second, as though the trees themselves are closing in, blocking out what little light remains. The air feels thick with the damp scent of moss and decaying leaves, as the last sunlight fades into shadow.
With each step, the darkness deepens, and soon, the path is barely visible, swallowed by the overwhelming void of the forest. The quietness is broken only by the soft rustles of leaves in the wind and the sound of the two seekers’ footsteps on the dry leaves. The faint chirping of birds from earlier has long since stopped, leaving a silence that presses in on them from all sides.
Velchanos watches Valencia navigate the dark with ease, her movements stead confident despite the barely visible path, while he struggles to keep upHe can’t help but wonder,
There was something off about Valencia, something that made her seem almost… not entirely human. Her ease in the past and current incidents seem unnatural for a normal, perhaps, not for Blood-bound.
Or does it have something to do with her unique ability?
Velchanos squints, his eyes straining to adjust, but the dark is so thick that even the outline of the trees is hard to determine.
“Hey, I can’t see anything,” Velchanos murmurs, his voice almost lost in the heavy silence.
The woman glances over her shoulder at him, her eyes are sharp, scanning the dark ahead. She reaches into her bag and pulls out two small torches, the light barely cutting through the darkness as they click them on. The white beams flicker, casting fleeting shadows across the ground, but the forest around them remains a wall of darkness.
Valencia had instructed him—and herself—to avoid mobile phones during the journey. The risk of being tracked by Theodore, even though the faintest signal, is a possibility she couldn’t afford to ignore.
At first, they had considered leaving their phones behind entirely but ultimately decided to bring them along just to be safe. The dark and uncomfortable task of navigating the forest without proper equipment was alarming, and they couldn’t forget the dangers lurking in nature.
The two of them couldn’t use their abilities—a restriction that made their reliance on the phones even more critical. Yet, in this instance, the phone had to stay off, leaving them dependent on each other and the environment around them.
The torches, though useful, offer only limited help. The path before them is still shrouded in near-total hollow darkness, and the uneven terrain becomes harder to navigate. Velchanos’ foot catches on something unseen, his balance faltering as the beam of his flashlight swings wildly.
“Ah—,” he says, steadying himself.
Valencia glances back again and then steps towards him. She takes a step closer, reaching out without a word and grasping his hand firmly. His fingers tighten around hers, a silent agreement, a reassurance that they won’t let the darkness pull them apart.
“Stay close,” she says quietly. “I can’t have my future bodyguard wandering off in the dark.”
“How considerate, Miss Contractee.”
Continuing conversation to avoid the tension of silence of hand holdings, Velchanos finally voices the question that has been accumulated in him since they began their not-so-easy partnership. “I’ve been wanting to ask,” he starts, his voice hinting cautious. “How much do you know about Bounders? To be precise, how did you figure out there’s something wrong with me?”
Valencia glances at him from the corner of her eye, although it's dark, something in her eyes is telling that she can see everything clear as day. Her expression is cool and detached.
“You always ask , Velchanos,” she says. “Aren’t you curious about Bounders exist in the first place?”
He exhales sharply, “That too, but are all blood-bounders as knowledgeable as you? It’s like you already know ‘everything from a glance’. I can’t help but only wonder how you figure things out so quickly.”
Valencia chuckles softly, but there’s no warmth to it. “I think you’ve misunderstood.” Her tone is light, yet there’s an unmistakable weight behind her words. “You’re giving off a particular energy, like a curse. It doesn’t take much to notice.”
She doesn’t mention her ability:
Instead, she adds, “And I mentioned working in an archive. That’s why I’m so wise and mighty.”
Velchanos raises a brow. “That’s very cocky of you.”
She smirks but doesn’t humour him with a response. “Anyway, I’ll save the history lesson for later.” She slows her pace, tilting her head toward the path with a dim fire light ahead. “We’ve arrived.”
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The cabin stands in a state of decay, its timber darkened with age. The air around it thick with scent of firewood. Scattered dirty yellow talismans hang all around the area, fluttering slightly in the wind, their faded symbols offering some semblance of protection.
In front of the cabin stands an old man, unmoving, like a figure carved from the very bark of the trees. A long white veil hangs from his brow, drifting down to his chest, hiding his face in a curtain of pale linen. It’s impossible to estimate how long he’s been there—minutes, hours, days?
He stands with the eerie stillness of someone who has been waiting far too long, as if he had somehow known, that unannounced visitors would find their way to this forgotten place in the woods.
He doesn’t turn to face Velchanos directly. His posture remains rigid, yet his voice cuts through the still air.
“Boy,” he says, addressing Velchanos without looking at him, “you’re a walking glossary of curses. How many people have you made enemies of?”