Chapter 7: I wish I had said those words.

  Obasawain watched as the rain was getting really heavy, shaking his body to the core, as he kept the cloak hood up, and he took out a small flask of something hard. It didn't matter what it was truly, but it kept his body warm, and nobody could afford Blot right now, at least to spend it like there was no tomorrow. He needed the little he kept on himself, just in case.

  He wiped away some of the tears in his eyes; another night of watching and listening made his eyes and ears sharp but kept those bags under his eyes dark and dull. Perhaps he could ask that The Vanguard not have to do these missions that went into close to lunchtime, but then it was getting worse out there. Heroes were needed somewhere.

  He flicked some of the dirt off his left hand; the crescent tattoo embedded on the top of his hand reminded him of his mission. It was a black tattoo, embedded with a crescent shape with three sharp lines jetting off towards his fingers in equal parts to the crescent. It was similar to that of the death glyph of soldiers, but its slight difference was just a symbol of his beliefs.

  There was a good having something to fight for; at least he believed that it was good enough, distracted him from Creation knows what. He stood up as he adjusted his dark obsidian cloak as the flecks of water came off. He stood above the house district, listening and watching.

  That night, he had been watching over one of his Lunar Sisters, making sure they could help and watch over the people in the street that needed some guidance. Their methods were...shallow, but to believe that others in this city deserved to starve and be struck off the streets, there were always other options. What they do is simply a way for those without purpose to find it, or to seek it; there was little difference between the two. Now, it was close to lunch, and heading back would be a priority.

  "So why am I staying so long?" He had asked himself the same question for a while, almost two hours ago, when the rain wasn't so heavy and the atmosphere wasn't so lost on him. He could have left, could have just gone back a while ago with the Lunar Sister, but something kept him here; the past that washed with him here kept his mind fixated on this place, like a disease.

  He had taken another sip of that alcohol he had kept with him; it was definitely some kind of rum. He was beginning to feel that small buzz that kept his mind a little fuzzy, but it felt better than being cold.

  "Thank you, Twin Sisters, for keeping alcohol flowing and my mind sharp." He almost felt a little guilty saying something a little silly about his own beliefs, but what is religion if not for the fact of bringing those silly things to his life? In truth he was glad about where he was in life, but there were parts that confused him. They would often say he wasn't devout enough, but if he were any more devout, he would end up like Lunaria, and that was too far.

  The rain picked up again, even heavier, keeping most people off the streets as he stood above watching people enter their homes. The cold was starting to get to him as he adjusted his belt and the sickle he carried on it. The weapon was sheathed away in a small leather satchel made custom to keep the weapon's gleam and sharpened curve from slicing his pants. He didn't want to unsheathe right now; the weapon's luster would cause too many problems.

  As the rain picked up, Obasawain simply started walking towards another rooftop, connected via a small wooden bridge. Kursoon was always filled with tiny details like that, small rooftops connected, and buildings that caught the eye. He walked away towards the west; he had to return to the conclave at some point, and the rain would make a nice backdrop as he took a well-deserved nap.

  "Maybe the others will make some--" There was loud uproar in the street, too loud. Obasawain simply walked over back to the edge of the rooftop as he watched the people down below move away from something coming their way. His ears perked to the noise as he saw two figures running through the streets. They both turned a sharp right as they ran down the slanted street of the homes.

  They were dull; even in this heavy rain he could tell, their swirled grey skin almost overtook the other shades around them. One of them wore heavy clothing: a tan coat, hood, and shoes. He also wore a mask, not uncommon for Dull, but odd nonetheless.

  The other one, he wore...just clothing. Obasawain knew that Dull weren't common; one would even consider them rare of sorts, but most of them wore heavy clothes and things that covered their skin. He did not.

  "Why? Why not cover yourself?" That question would burn the back of his mind only for a moment before he saw them run closer. The other boy had long, flowing, stern black hair with bits of unkemptness that made it almost look like it would tangle too easily. His stride was strong, and he was a lot taller as he looked upon him closer.

  "A warrior's body." He thought to himself, an almost ideal to most soldiers. It would never happen, though; that thought in his mind almost felt like a reality check. The book ordained that they live afraid of them...he couldn't blame Kursoonians for it; they knew very little despite it all. He watched as both of the boys ran towards the street. They were heading for the sewer to escape; he saw the small pipe at the end of the street made to rush away the rainwater.

  "Smaller and thinner, it would take the other guards more time to get through that smaller pipe...clever." He knew better though; there were most entrances into that sewer, and if they couldn't find the escape, then they would just get caught. But it was a smart plan. He could almost hear the two of them shout that idea as they both kept running closer and closer.

  Then in the corner of his eye, Obasawain saw it. A luster he recognized in a heartbeat. An armored figure stood over on the other side of the street on a similar building that he stood on as well. It was almost as if they were staring at each other. Their armor was Runic Silver, easier to recognize than people think, as the rain droplets almost seemed to slide off the armor, not a single hint of moisture on the brilliant plate.

  In their hand was a maul, too big to be considered a Warhammer and too small to be a great maul that Luong would use. It shimmered that same shine as the plate itself; it was the exact same material. An extensive of both weapon and armor like that...

  "That would have set them back an entire fortune; it must be a personal guard for someone even more wealthy." Even then, that figure would have to be richer than he assumed. The process alone to make something so strong that would have set him back at least a blue enamel, that thought alone made his head hurt.

  The figure jumped from the building, as Obasawain was taken aback from the power of the jump. Runic Silver was heavy, even for trained soldiers. The figure leaped down onto the stone of the street and leaned his maul back to swing directly at the long-haired Dull before him. Obasawain wanted to look away, to jump in and help...but where would that get him? Even if it was raining, it was the middle of the day; he would be seen and then...

  "The whole mission is for naught." That made his head turn away; another look at would happen to the boy, and that old feeling would have come back. That hero that died in him would come back in full swing. There was no need for heroes anymore.

  In that moment, against every instinct and every fiber of his body asking him, no, pleading him to move and fight, he wouldn't. He fought for something else, something better. Protect himself, find those who have lost their way. Nothing more, nothing less. He was no hero.

  And yet a second later, there was no scream, no loud hit of something colliding with flesh and bone. That was odd. Obasawain gritted his teeth and looked back in a rush, hoping to only see the glimpse of grey blood spread throughout the street so that he could only feel that surge of guilt run through and let it be over.

  He was alive; the boy was alive. He was getting up from a seemingly impossible dive forward. The other boy in the heavy coat was too far away to be affected by the swing as both of them had moved from the street and squeezed through the sewer tunnel before them. He had seen the other guards move towards the tunnel, attempting to fit themselves in as some of them went forward slowly on their knees, while others went around street corners trying to find another way.

  Obasawain was stunned, at least for a moment. That dive would have been impossible, at least for just some boy. Did he use something? That question would have burned in the back of his mind, waiting to see that boy again to talk to him. The armored figure looked towards the tunnel as he had begun to run towards another entrance he knew of.

  Obasawain gripped his right forearm with his left hand, trying to calm himself from that rushing feeling within. Any more and he would find himself moving, acting...saving. When was the last time he saved someone?

  "Too long." He said out loud, his rough and tired voice piercing through the heavy rain. He closed his eyes to rising feelings deep within his gut like he was going to puke. That feeling never truly went away, but it came and went with time.

  "No... I can't do this anymore. I have a new purpose; we have a new goal... I can't just do that anymore!" He had almost yelled that too loud; others would hear him. He looked back to the sewer tunnel entrance, as the guards were now pushing through quicker.

  Someone had to do something.

  "And that someone won't be me." He said gruffly.

  So why was it that when he said that, he could feel his legs rushing forward towards the east entrance to the sewer?

  "By the Twin Sisters..."

  He was, by and large, a hypocrite.

  ****

  The rush of rainwater above them drowned out the rest of the screaming and clashing outside of the sewer as they sprinted through. The floor was made of solid stone, as a small stream down the middle of the bottom carried water through. They kept running north, following the single line of water that almost guided them away. The light at the end of the tunnel slowly faded away as Max'Sall slowed down to catch his breath. He slowly shifted towards the tunnel wall, which had since widened out to make more room for others down here.

  It was too dark in here, only plastered by lights that shined down from the rain-soaked morning. There were holes in the ceiling where water would descend into the echo chamber of water, and drips sauntered off the silence between him and Dormion.

  What was there to say? Did he really want to push some kind of words onto him that would hurt? No, there was nothing to say, simple as that. Max'Sall just wiped away some of the excess rainwater from his face, already annoyed that even more of that excess water was already on his hands. He barely felt the tap from behind as Dormion handed him a small rag. There was a look between the two as he simply smiled.

  What reason was there to be sad near him? Max'Sall didn't know. He simply accepted the small rag and wiped his face as they both sped-walked forward; they were still being chased. Dormion began to take off the heavy set coat and his face mask, clearly soaked from the rain. Max'Sall was used to Dormion showing off his face in privacy; his unkempt dark brown hair and paler skin mixed with heavy-set grey made it clear that he was dull. The scars that surrounded his lips were still there, which looked like some creature just tore into his mouth.

  His lips were damaged beyond repair; they've looked like that since the day they met. He could still remember that day. The heavy set rain was almost like this, just darker since the night had begun to set in. A man shivering in the cold, a boy looking for his lost mother. Max'Sall couldn't make out Dormion's father in the rain, but he wished that he had that day. Maybe he could have saved him. The lips around his mouth were mostly gone, besides a good bit of skin that resembled that once unbroken skin. Parts of the mouth were so broken that the skin didn't heal correctly, showing teeth and other parts of the inner mouth.

  Max'Sall didn't want to point it out; he never did.

  "We should keep moving downward; they say there is an exit pipe towards the back of the sewer, but usually guards are posted up there." Dormion said as he felt around his mouth. His fingers traced the bits of skin that didn't heal, his eyes almost darkening around him. What did he think about himself?

  What did many Dull think about themselves? Ugly, no doubt. It was ingrained into their own ideas; they were ugly and bland and served no purpose, yet they all would tell each other that they were beautiful in their own way. Did poor people tell themselves they were rich to others? Did it ever matter what words came from their words? What did it matter if a Dull called another beautiful? They wouldn't believe it.

  And yet... Dormion walked with purpose despite it. When was the last time he had let someone else see the person he was underneath the mask? There was a boundary of trust that Max'Sall was relieved to know he had carried with him. He stood straight and walked forward towards a crossroads of interconnecting platforms that were above the water flooding down below the grated platforms. The light only shined down upon him when the sunlight and the small bits of rain would go into the sewer; it alighted him.

  Max'Sall stood next to him, highlighted only by the light that descended upon Dormion. Maybe that was for the best.

  "What's next after we escape?" Max'Sall asked out loud, almost like trying to elicit a response from anything willing to listen. Dormion simply grasped the mask in his hand as he sighed.

  "Would it be odd for me to say that I'm not sure?" Dormion always had a way with words; it almost made him sound like he was trying to keep the mood up, even when it was incredibly difficult.

  "Nope, I didn't think we had much of a plan past this." He almost felt a bit of a chuckle coming from his lips, like a laugh he was trying to suppress. Dormion picked up on the mood as he simply laughed sheepishly.

  "Too much running and not enough thinking." He had eyed the path ahead towards a long, winding tunnel as they both turned a sharp left towards that tunnel.

  "I don't even know where we are. You think we can even escape this death trap?" Max'Sall had said, feeling on the wall like he could feel the way out in his fingertips. Dormion had quickly looked at the holes that would show up on the ceiling and didn't say much as he stared up at the ceiling.

  "We have before." He was right; they did that every day. That made Max'Sall a bit more relaxed in his movement. He pushed his hands through his hair, getting some of the moisture out as they both began to walk through this labyrinthine sewer.

  There was little to notice about the sewer within; there were small things here and there, like pipes and other such metal objects made to carry and push water through, but nothing Max'Sall could understand more than what he knew of what pipes were meant to do.

  This left his mind wandering around, looking, hearing...smelling. It was quite a bad smell; all the adrenaline pumping through his heart must have made him overlook the rotten smell permeating the area. Even Dormion had returned to putting his mask back on, though for the smell or himself, Max'Sall didn't know.

  He should have said something then, told Dormion what he should have. They had their argument only minutes ago, and yet he felt distant. The kind of distance that didn't matter, whether or not you were close to someone. It was faint, and he didn't understand it. Was there something he was supposed to say? Maybe there was, but he didn't know it.

  He could only see the scars, those hideous scratches and marks around Dormion's mouth, even when the mask went back up. Those images flashed back in his head. It wasn't that Dormion was ugly; it wasn't that the scars made his face look bad. It was the pain.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Every single inch of his mouth was covered in pain and suffering that you wouldn't know if you didn't see him, if you didn't know him. What was the point of judging and looking down on those that were less than you? They knew their place, and they lived within it. There was no point in reminding them how low they were.

  Was Dormion feeling that pain every day? Were those scars as bad as they had looked? He didn't want to ask, to hurt and bring back that pain he had seen before. Ever since he had gotten those scars, he was afraid to ask, afraid to hurt him more than what was already done. Dormion was his friend, his only light...so why did he feel so distant?

  "Do you think we will ever go back to how things were?" Dormion had asked. It didn't sound like he was trying to ask a question, more that he was trying to find some peace in an answer he knew already.

  "I don't think so. How could it?" Too many questions were wandering through his mind; how could he think about the future now?

  "I just want it to be." Dormion was fiddling with his fingers, nervousness setting in.

  "You want to go back to that scum?!"

  "I just want things to be normal again." The sheepishness returned.

  "When were things ever normal? When were our lives ever normal?" He didn't want anyone to answer that.

  "Nobody's life is normal, Max'Sall. You know that."

  "No, there is a normal. We just haven't seen it. Waking up in the morning with food on the table and the warmth of Lutana on your skin. With people that don't, despite you. That's normal."

  "Sounds like yesterday."

  Max'Sall paused for a moment, thinking back on yesterday. The time before his beatdown and the yelling he received from Caelen. That morning...was a good morning. He and Dormion had breakfast; the morning light cast its warmth upon them. With Dormion...

  What was normal anymore? Was his life normal? He had seen so many people wake up, with love and friends around them, eating and laughing. What was so different about their lives to them? They simply worked harder.

  He looked back to Dormion, who was simply smiling back up at the light atop the sewer. It made him smile too. That pain, that suffering, seemed to just flood away; he smiled towards him as they both walked down the long corridor.

  "Thanks, Dormion... Thank you for--"

  "Max, S'all!"

  "Huh?" There was a pause before he saw something in the corner of his eye shoot out from the darkness before them. It didn't hit them; it was just a shot in the dark. He saw the object move from behind them as he was trying to understand what was going on.

  In that moment of hesitance, he saw the object move towards him and strike him in the right shoulder, between his arm and his chest. At first there was no pain, just a sudden shock that went throughout his entire body. For a brief moment, that only kept him from screaming.

  That moment was gone, and blood oozed out of his shoulder, and tears formed at the sides of his eyes. He screamed in pain as he held the arrow, trying to pull it out. It only made the pain worse, that unbearable ache that rocketed every single thing he had felt before. Worse than the beatings, worse than the cold nights.

  "MAX'SALL!" Dormion was screaming his name as the sounds of thundering footsteps came walking through. The guards were all walking forward; he only saw their cyan and silver armor as a reflection in the small pools of water filled near their feet. Max'Sall looked up in tears of pain as he saw that four guards had their crossbows aimed at his head. Death was all he saw above.

  Dormion was taken away; he had seen the man briefly. The First Captain was back, and this time that look on his face, the guilt, was completely gone. He had simply replaced it with a strength that even Max'Sall knew he was only holding onto for someone else. He felt something fall into his pocket as Dormion's arms were grabbed away and held down by the First Captain.

  "Why...Why do this?" Max'Sall uttered the words before staring back at the First Captain.

  "Because The Book of Beginnings ordains that we keep the order from...you." Ah, the book. Max'Sall didn't want to hear about it anymore, that perfect book that did no wrong, that was right about everything. He didn't even know what was inside, and yet it felt like everything bad about his life was inside that book. He couldn't even read. He had no choice but to live by a book he couldn't even read.

  "What a cruel joke." That was all he could say, all that was needed.

  He looked forward as he saw all of them stand before him, all the cruel and awful people that ruined his life. Rylander, Barlow, and Yokan all stood beside the guards as their quiet snickering ate at his soul even more so. Dormion said nothing as all that could be heard was his grunting and his struggling as he was trying to get out of his grip.

  "Well, well. Two Dull, and one crime, seem like pretty common things around here." His smile said it all, a large and wide-toothed smile that evil itself looked away from. The other two men were nothing but smiles and laughter from the other side of him; there was no escape from this absolute cesspool of filth, but the people and the smell that rotted in his nose. How fitting.

  In that same darkness that sat behind them, more footsteps came through. First they were heavy; different from the thunder of the others, this was metallic and powerful, like the rumble of a quake. There, in the light above them, was the armored man and the armor that glowed too brilliantly. His massive hammer almost carried this absurd weight in the air itself, like Wind itself was keeping itself towards his side.

  He stood between Max'Sall and Dormion. The First Captain pushed Dormion to the ground in a quick shove downward, and he placed his foot on his back. They both looked at each other, Max'Sall gritting his teeth in frustration as Dormion only looked guilty, something that didn't look right on him. There were no words, just silent gestures; pain and blood dripped upon the grated floor of the sewer, beneath the water.

  Then, as if the world was trying to put Max'Sall anywhere else he didn't want to be anymore, he saw him. Caelen fell back as the guards walked to the side to let him through; there was an air of respect that Max'Sall didn't understand. They both stared at each other as he was behind Dormion, next to the First Captain.

  "Thank you, Captain. It seems that the problem has been solved. We will have to have a chat about your rank after this is done, yes?" Caelen had brushed off some of the dirt and dirty water on the captain's surcoat. He said nothing but a simple nod; there was no resistance.

  "We didn't take your stupid gemstone! I know that's what you're looking for, so don't play coy like I know you will, you bastard!" Max'Sall said, trying to keep the pain from spreading around his shoulder. It was spreading around his shoulder wound, and blood kept leaking out of his skin, not fast, but the bolt was mostly embedded into the skin, so the pain kept lingering inside.

  "Hmm, I thought you'd have more of a fight in you, Max. You too, Dor. You two have something of mine, my gemstone." Caelen said nothing as he stepped on top of Dormion with the captain. He screamed in pain; something must have been broken. They looked like they were forcing most of their weight on top of him.

  "We didn't take it!"

  "And I'm supposed to believe that? From a liar, from a Dull?"

  "You asked to deliver that satchel; that's it!" Dormion had replied as the force became stronger on his back. Max'Sall couldn't move; his legs wouldn't. All the strength he had was sapped from his body. The armored man took a single step forward but didn't move any other way.

  "Sir, shall we take care of this?" The First Captain had responded.

  "COWARD!" Max'Sall screamed in defiance. Rylander had walked over and kicked him in the stomach; the full force of his kick sent little Max Sall in his stomach out onto the floor. He gritted his teeth in pain as Rylander stood over him.

  "No talking back, Dull." Caelen had put his hand up, forcing Rylander to move, and Caelen simply walked over to Max'Sall as he kneeled before him, careful not to put his clothes anywhere near the bile he spewed up.

  "Max. I've just had enough of this entire charade we go through every single time. I understand that it's in your nature to take, but we've been doing this song and dance way too long. I had to let you go; just understand my side."

  "Your...side?"

  "Yes, I've had to work and put Dull to work without using them as simple laborers, and that hurts the way I look. You two have been useful in many ways, but after Rylander and his team have been working so hard for me these past few weeks—

  "Weeks?"

  "Quite. They were just meant to do the job better, and honestly, things have changed. Times are changing; the future has never been stronger; innovation and human ingenuity have been skyrocketing. We don't have time or money to waste on things of the past." Caelen stood up and adjusted his pant legs.

  "Things of the past..." Somehow, more than anything, that hurt the absolute most. He was not just useless, stupid, and replaceable...he wasn't even human anymore. The tears that formed in his eyes were no longer the tears from the pain. They fell down his face like a waterfall, and his mouth quivered. When was the last time he had cried...not since his mother was taken.

  "Don't be sad..." Caelen had said, taking a small towel from his pocket and wiping those tears from his face. That made everything worse; he kept his head down, close to the floor, so that nobody would see him suffer. He didn't want to suffer anymore.

  "We just need the gemstone back, and we can make this all quick." Caelen had said there was no hint in his voice of guilt; it was the same as if he was making a business deal. Max'Sall looked at Dormion, who had simply been softly sobbing against the floor. There was nothing for two anymore.

  Maybe if they were lucky, they would just get beat within an inch of their life. They could still be friends; they would have each other... they could--

  "I threw it out."

  Those words, he heard it correctly. Dormion had looked towards Max'Sall in a soft cry as he closed his eyes. Max'Sall couldn't move, couldn't breathe as those words escaped his lips. Caelen had simply sighed in frustration as he looked towards Dormion in pain.

  "No..." Max'Sall was trying to calm himself down.

  "Dor, you knew about the gemstone?"

  "I did."

  "No... Dormion, please." Max'Sall was trying to speak, trying to let anything escape from his mouth to tell him no. No matter how much his lungs burned, his head hurt, and this feeling of agony clouded his judgment; there was nothing to say.

  "Where did you put the gemstone, Dor? You know that I don't like being—

  "Somewhere, somewhere only I know. It might be just in a shop somewhere, across the road, floating down the sewer. It doesn't matter. I don't have it anymore."

  "NO! Please just stop! You can't!" Why couldn't he say anything? Everything could be fixed if he would just say something, so why was he hesitating? Dormion was his friend; he needed him; he needed that smile and that bravery he had. Why was he silent?

  Caelen simply laughed; his voice pierced the silence in the air as he simply looked towards Max'Sall in this hysteria. Max'Sall noticed that he wasn't looking at him, but there was something nearby. He looked to his right near his pocket as he saw the soft red glow in his thin pants in the darkness that he sat underneath.

  "That's what you thought... you could trick me. Dor, do you believe that you can win against me? That I wouldn't notice that piece in his rags? No, Dormion. You don't understand much, do you?"

  "I...just thought it was funny."

  Caelen's face was angry, his tan skin darkening at the face to show this pure anger that rocked his face. He went down to Dormion as he grabbed his face forcefully. Dormion simply looked at him; there was no pain in his eyes, no sadness, only a look of satisfaction.

  "You... You think you've won, have you? You can't! A dull person like you doesn't win; you never will!" Caelen walked away as he looked towards the armored man.

  "Kogon...do it." The First Captain looked towards him in surprise.

  "Sir, the gemstone! What about the--"

  "KOGON! DO IT!" There was no hesitation as Kogon stepped up. Max'Sall barely heard what the First Captain was saying, as he saw Caelen bat him away in frustration, and Kogon grabbed the massive hammer and walked one more step closer to Dormion. Max'Sall watched as the man Kogon began to lift the massive hammer.

  Everything was slow; his heart pounded in his chest as guards were walking away from the man lifting the huge weapon up. Caelen was screaming towards the First Captain as he was batting him away with his hand.

  Max'Sall sat there staring back at Dormion; their eyes met together as the tears were still streaming down his face. However, Dormion didn't cry; he didn't look sad.

  He was smiling.

  Out of every single thing that happened, the pain, the suffering. Everything that was going to get him killed, he still smiled. Max'Sall couldn't believe his eyes as the hammer rose to the apex of the room itself.

  Dormion simply looked at Max'Sall, and he could hear him speak something to him, as if the rest of the world went silent before Dormion's words.

  "Just keep swimming, Max'Sall."

  Those words hit him deep, stronger than anything he had felt before. Like a punch to his heart, he almost felt safe. Then the hammer came down.

  It was too quick, so quick that within a single blink, blood and small bits of organ were over the area itself. Max'Sall felt the cold drip of blood against his face, as everything was gone in an instant. Kogon lifted the armor up as the blood almost fell off the hammer itself; there was no noise, no movement besides the hammer moving up as Kogon looked at the bits of human life across the floor.

  "One more monster off the street."

  Max'Sall couldn't scream, couldn't move. Tears flooded out as he saw nothing of his friends anymore. Dormion was gone, dead, and all the pain flashed into his body in an instant. Some of the other guards were covered in blood, and Max'Sall couldn't even look at what remained of him. His eyes closed, trying to block out everything, everyone.

  Memories of the past flashed into his mind. The accident, his mother's burning eyes as they stared back at him in the darkness. That beating red of scarlet kept the tears flowing, as soft sobs came out in waves.

  Max'Sall hated crying, but there was nothing he could do anymore.

  He was back to drowning, and there was nobody there to keep his head up.

  Max'Sall didn't hear; he didn't see much else; his body slumped down as he looked forward towards Dormion's body. The neck was blown off the head as blood leaked out of what was remaining; he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore as his eyes closed and all went dark.

  ***

  Obasawain moved faster and faster into the eastern side of the sewer; he was already late, he hesitated too much, and he was already going to be too late if he hadn't moved quickly. He fiddled with the elixir at his hip, half-empty, which meant that he couldn't use it if he didn't need to.

  He turned corners quickly and sharply before sprinting towards a large corridor. This would lead to the other sections of the sewer, as long as he could find those boys; he could... There.

  In the distance he saw the light shine down on a group of people; the same armored figure stood before them as a thundering slam came down with that large maul. He could see the blood splinter off the wall, and there was silence in the area itself. Someone was dead, that was for sure, but there was no time to think about who and what, just what he could do in the time.

  He was faster than most, even if it meant that his bones would be aching the next morning; he already made this decision, and he couldn't turn around and act like what he was doing wasn't already risking a lot. It was, and that was the problem. But he was here, and that meant a lot more than he would have liked to think.

  He had leaped towards the side wall into a dead sprint, as the speed of stride carried him across the wall into a dark portion that covered his body mostly in shaded darkness. He ran across the wall, only for a few moments trying to keep his body hidden, even if footsteps could not be.

  He saw the man, blue of skin and stringy, look behind, looking for those footsteps, but the darkness kept him hidden for just long enough for him to kick off the wall and arrive above the scene itself. The armored figure was reeling back the maul as they looked towards him.

  Obasawain quickly checked the scenario, making notes quick enough so that he could make a simple plan. Dead boy, gone. Long-haired boy on the ground could be alive. Four guards, two swords, two shields, four crossbows, hard to kill, incapacitate. First Captain, armored figure, four regular men. He could do this.

  "Twin Sisters, guide me. Bless these men who have not seen the finality of Creation and its gifts. Grant me the boon of strength to defeat those that threaten to snuff out her Light and Shade. I will fight." He needed the oath in these times more than he thought.

  His leg immediately spun to the left as he struck the blue-skinned man. His body went down; the blow was hard and steady as his head slammed into the grated floor below. One.

  He landed close to the boy as he placed his hand on his neck. Breathing, that was good; the bolt in the shoulder was bad, but he would live. He looked towards the corpse below, nothing to save; that was his hesitation from before. He scowled in anger as he stood up to face the rest of the men.

  There was a silence before the armored man swung quickly towards him. The corridor was small, but large enough for the mall to meet itself close, but not close enough. Obasawain understood how to fight heavy weapons.

  "The weapon is too big to get proper swings, but there is no point in attacking armor without my..." He paused. He shouldn't use it; if they knew he would have to kill all of them seeing it. You can't just flaunt around fine weapons, and there was no space to use them either, not in here.

  "Not to mention the boy; I have to get him out of here. Defensively, take care of range before leaving." That meant that he would have to get rid of those soldiers first. He quickly moved in a zigzag pattern to get close to the first soldier. His eyes showed fear, but he held up the crossbow regardless. Obasawain flicked around his cloak, disorienting the soldier before he quickly slammed the heel of his black combat boots into the wood of the crossbow.

  It shattered instantly as he quickly swung his fist around the soldier to grab at the short sword on his belt. With a quick flick of the wrist, he pulled the blade from the sheath and raised the blade to the soldier next to him and stabbed it through the flint groove. It shattered as he turned the blade in his hand and held it at the side as he punched the same man. The soldier of ivory skin fell back as his blood contrasted on Obasawain's beige skin. Two.

  The other two soldiers were trying to give space to the armored figure as they swung the maul downwards towards him. Obasawain quickly pivoted his foot to the right as his body spun into an intricate dance and struck another soldier down, his crossbow falling to the ground. It would be good enough.

  "I can get this boy out; I just need those ranged weapons gone." He looked towards the final weapon as he had already launched the bolt out. Obasawain was already moving, so he was able to dodge most of the bolt, but it sliced into his forearm, where his vambrace was weak.

  "I'm getting too slow." He wasn't 25 anymore; acting like he was would get him killed, but what usually didn't? He took out the small short sword and flung it towards the last soldier, who simply let it strike against the string, as it was unusable after that. He felt his blood drip into his armor past his elbow as he quickly ducked and dodged back towards the boy. He saw a larger man go in for a huge grapple, but Obasawain was fast, and he ducked down into a low crouch and propelled himself backwards towards the boy.

  "The gemstone! GET THE GEMSTONE!" One of the men yelled in frustration as Obasawain grabbed at the boy's waist; he was surprisingly light, too light. When was the last time he had eaten? Though for a Dull, that question was most likely up in the air.

  He grabbed at the boy's waist and hoisted him up before the armored figure came charging back into the fight. He jumped into the air to make up a large amount of distance. Obasawain was forced to steel his nerves for the attack and instantly crouched down into a high jumping position as the maul went too far.

  "He assumed that I was going to move back...clever, but not against me." He pushed himself up as he hoisted the boy's body to his shoulder so that his right shoulder with the bolt in it wasn't getting pushed deeper out of the body.

  Obasawain pirouetted towards the place where the boys most likely came from, the west side of the sewer, and sped through. He could hear the screams of those behind, but he simply sped away. He could feel the rush of the wind of the city and the rain come through. He busted through the tunnel in a quick slide as he carefully roamed the city. He could feel the heavy rainfall on his face as he gripped tightly on the boy's body.

  "Let's see what the conclave has to say about you..." Obasawain only hoped that his back wouldn't ache after this.

  Max'Sall Part 1 End