Chapter 77: Peak Interest

As Xenia descended with his obsidian knife clutched firmly in his right hand, fully recovered and determined, his strike found its mark upon the meditating and unsuspecting foes. The darkness enveloping them on the third floor of the Sardines factory had not completely blinded them.

Yet, in that crucial moment, Xenia couldn't suppress the surge of his bloodlust, allowing tiny particles of it to seep through. This unforeseen turn of events threatened to derail his carefully laid plans, setting the stage for an outcome far from what he had originally intended.

As the obsidian knife made its swift descent, blood began to trickle from the man's wound, prompting him to hastily spring from his meditative position. In the dimly lit surroundings, he remained oblivious to the identity of his assailant, the sudden attack catching him completely off guard.

"Is there another enemy?!"

As the floor guardian, the location of the lever to illuminate the third level was etched deep within the man's memory. Despite the enveloping darkness, he possessed an unwavering knowledge of its whereabouts, a mental map he had meticulously crafted over time. 

In a surge of urgency, he rose to his feet, determined to gain a clear view of his mysterious assailant. However, Xenia, ever the tactician, had anticipated this very move. Swiftly and instinctively, he had positioned himself at the lever's location immediately after delivering his calculated strike with the obsidian knife.

"He is waiting for me!"

The man came to an abrupt halt just shy of reaching the lever, caught in a moment of intense contemplation. He grappled with a critical decision: whether to press on and seize what seemed like an enticing opportunity or to pivot, embracing the possibility of an unexpected move that could potentially outsmart his elusive opponent.

"Why did Chief Mordecai have to make the walls so thick?! My sword can't pierce through it!"

All thoughts raced through the floor guardian's mind as he debated with himself, caught in a silent dialogue of choices and consequences. Xenia, standing poised near the lever, bided his time with a patience born of experience. He couldn't bring an immediate end to the fight, his bloodlust having briefly betrayed his intentions, but he remained vigilant.

As the guardian hesitated, Xenia seized the opportunity and made his move. With a swift and calculated strike, his blade carved a shallow, yet significant, perpendicular cut across the guardian's torso. The wound, though not immediately fatal, began to bleed profusely. This was a peculiar predicament, for the guardian possessed a skill that should have allowed him to halt the flow of blood, but the injury seemed to defy his mastery.

As his blood seeped out steadily, a weakening sensation overcame him, both physically and mentally, threatening to sap his strength and resolve in tandem.

"Damnit! The bastard is surely waiting for me at the switch! Ah, fuck it!"

Frustration and agitation etched themselves across the guardian's face, betraying the uneasiness swirling within him. These tumultuous emotions unwittingly broadcasted his vulnerability, sending a palpable signal that Xenia's keen sensory receptors immediately locked onto.

"Who are you?!"

Xenia held his silence steadfastly, refusing to yield to the provocations hurled at him by the floor guardian. He understood all too well that responding would be an undeniable giveaway of his position, and the last thing he wanted was for the guardian to recognize him.

"Not gonna talk, eh?!"

The floor guardian began to walk, but not in the direction of Xenia, where the lever and their imminent confrontation awaited. Instead, his steps led him back to the spot where he believed he had left Xenia's lifeless body.

"Something about his quick death feels amiss. I'm getting the idea that the kid is still alive and he is the same person that attacked me!"

The floor guardian followed his instincts to the precise location where he and his twin had once struck down Xenia with their swords. To his astonishment, there was no lifeless body, and the once-wet blood had vanished. His realization came too late, as Xenia had intentionally allowed himself to be sensed, predicting the floor guardian's next move with uncanny accuracy.

In an instant, Xenia exacted his vengeance with a level of precision that showcased the skills he had honed in the past. He wielded his obsidian knife with ruthless efficiency, subjecting the floor guardian to a relentless torrent of pain and suffering, retribution tenfold for his earlier actions.

Incredibly, even after enduring such agonizing torment, the floor guardian clung to life, though he lay prostrate on the ground, blood streaming from his mouth. His insides were a mess, brutally mangled by the obsidian knife, yet his spirit refused to surrender.

Struggling to speak, his vision blurred in the encompassing darkness, the floor guardian's eyes caught a faint, dwindling glimmer of light as the entire third floor bathed in luminosity once more. It was Crysalia who had pulled the lever, dispelling the obscurity that had shrouded them all.

"H-How?" From his dying voice, another life-fading tone could be sensed. "I was... sure I... ki— bleugh, killed you."

Though his vision remained hazy, the floor guardian could discern the unyielding expression on Xenia's face as the young warrior peered down upon him. He struggled to draw his sword, its blade now sheathed after his earlier desperate attempt to defend himself, but his strength had all but faded.

"Honestly, you did. I died back there. It's just that I took precautions that I'm alive once again."

Xenia was acutely aware of the need to guard the secret of his Gift from prying eyes. While he couldn't be certain whether Crysalia would remain tight-lipped about it, he exercised utmost caution, knowing that revealing his unique ability could potentially squander the advantage he held over his enemies.

"Uwah! He's bleeding all over!"

Crysalia's reaction was far from a surprise; instead, a hint of sarcasm flickered across her countenance as she approached the dying man before her. His condition seemed to trouble her little, if at all.

"I--I see... You, you are just like me. B-But how did you figure it out?"

"My existence is not of this world. I exist solely to let history unfold before me. Therefore, I knew most of the Gifts that spread throughout mankind."

"Is that... so? Too bad... you can't carry my will... with you. I would love to see through... your journey."

The frail thread of life that the floor guardian had clung to finally slipped away. Xenia and Crysalia bore witness to the ethereal particles of his departing soul, and in that moment, silence enveloped them all.

"Say less... I will let you discover the truth of our world."

Crysalia's curiosity piqued, and she tilted her head in contemplation, unable to fathom what Xenia had in mind. Yet, what Xenia did next left her utterly astonished, nearly causing her to burp aloud in sheer surprise.

With an eerie calmness, Xenia delicately sliced a piece of meat from the fallen guardian's body and consumed it raw. He chewed methodically on the flayed flesh, showing no remorse, before finally swallowing it. 

The aftermath, as expected when one absorbed the Gift of another, was a torrent of memories and experiences flooding Xenia's mind. He grappled with the past traumatic events and absorbed every significant detail from the floor guardian's life.

"Like me, you also murdered your friend to possess the power you think so highly of. Yllavic, your Gift won't be wasted."

Within Yllavic's memories, a haunting theme emerged – one drenched in regret and remorse. They vividly portrayed his deep-seated remorse for a fateful exchange he had made, sacrificing the life of a dear friend in a quest for unparalleled power. As the memories unfurled, the shocking revelation struck Xenia like a bolt of lightning. The very twin who had assumed Yllavic's own visage concealed the extracted essence of his lost friend, an unsettling twist that added layers of complexity to the floor guardian's tormented history.

"They were never separated. Friendship could not be severed by death. Yllavic remained in touch with Salve."

~