Chapter 9: Keepers of Purgatory

Edith put her hands to her mouth and opened her eyes as she watched the little boy's blood trickle down his foot until it fell to the ground. That man, in his other hand, held a crude pistol, which he had drawn and fired just as Rey had taken the first step forward to attack.

"You are young..." said the fellow with a Machiavellian laugh, ignoring the blurred vision he had had. "And very naive."

White and Edith went to assist him, but Rey moved from place to place quickly to dodge the next shots. He warned loudly:

"Don't interfere!"

Smiling, the little boy showed perfect murderous intentions on his face, which stopped the movements of his two companions.

"You'd have a better chance of beating me if it was an old-style fight like in the books,"

The man kept firing, but his blurred vision became more and more pronounced. As far as he could remember, he had never missed more than two shots in a row, which led him to think that something was out of the ordinary.

Rey disappeared from where he stood and reappeared behind his opponent.

"You have made a fatal mistake. You have just reminded me that there are no rules in combat. When it comes to winning, any means is fair game."

With his teeth out, the little guy, from behind, broke through the cloth and metal protecting the subject to tear a chunk out of his neck. Holding a sword and a pistol in each hand, the pirate had to hit another shot to win the fight, but for some reason he could not. It was as if he was fighting a ghost, something he saw, was there and then vanished. It wasn't blurred vision, but rather there were several individuals in the same spot moving like shadows in different directions.

Rey, on the other hand, was familiar with firearms from books. He may not yet be able to move his feet as fast as a bullet propelled by an explosion, but he could see his opponent's hand and when he pulled his finger to pull the trigger, which gave him the advantage of knowing when to move and dodge.

The spectators, who were fighters who had not been able to beat the pirate, were stunned. How was such a ridiculous attack possible? At least the little guy should have used his other arm, right? For one thing, a normal being wasn't capable of moving that fast or using his mouth in such an act. "He's not a child," thought the pirate-clad fellow. "To top it off, that creature has chewed the piece of meat he had in his mouth and swallowed it."

Click, click, click, sounded the gun's hammer being triggered, indicating there were no more bullets left to fire. With no loaded weapons, the subject was left with a sharp-edged musket and a neck still spurting blood. Resigned to lose, the pirate shouted as he followed the little guy with his eyes:

"Atrocity! Demon! How dare you bite me!"

He tried to swing his sword, but it didn't have enough reach or speed, if he wanted to do something, he had no choice but to throw it, even if he knew it would be ineffective against his opponent. "Sure! If I distract him by attacking the girl with him, he'll have to show up," he said to himself looking in the direction of the little girl who was dressed in black and seemed terrified by everything that was going on.

"My defeat is written in ink.... But you'll still have to try hard! In the meantime, I will take her life!" he shouted angrily and immediately prepared to swing his saber.

Halfway through his swing, he fell to his knees on the ground in horror. Falling face first to the floor, he could find no words to speak or strength to do anything. With his mouth open and his eyes lost, he knew he was dying, but he asked himself, "How? At what moment? What was my mistake?" until he saw it all black and could not even think clearly anymore....

Rey, with a lunge of his spear-like right claw, had pierced the subject's stomach. Opening his hand he grabbed his heart and with a hard yank ripped it out, all in the blink of an eye, using his opponent's blind spot to his advantage. Back on the ground, at the foot of his fallen opponent, Rey took the throbbing organ into his mouth and Munch-munch, nom-nom, yum-nom, glup, he ate it.

Rey, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb, answered the silent question:

"If you don't have unlimited attacks, firearms are no better than melee weapons. Once you run out of bullets, you run out of advantage."

Turning around, Rey threw a disinterested smile into the air as he continued on his way. It could be said that he was proud of himself, he had won the fight so easily despite being a child. Edith, on the other hand, followed him as she trembled in fear, thankful that she had not been pitted against such a monster. White took steps with her head held high, she was proud of her partner and was definitely inspired to be just as strong.

After defeating whoever stood in her way to the castle and painting the streets red, the little one drank the blood from inside the helmet of one of her fallen foes and then tossed it aside. In his presence, the attackers wasted no time in introducing themselves or exchanging words. Several exchanges of attack, always one defeated and one victorious, who kept on walking like this until he crossed the entrance of the castle. Inside the fascinating structure, Rey made his way to an empty throne. On the back of the wall stood imposing and supreme statues of two beautiful women intertwining their hands. One was playing with water, the other with the leaves of a tree. It was not difficult to deduce that the two sculptures represented old women in their prime.

A voice, echoing and echoing in the immense hall adorned with banners and columns supporting the far distant ceiling, addressed the little boy:

"Have you come to try your fighting style!"

Rey:

"No" he replied and continued: "I have come to learn how to cry out."

The voice said:

"Then you must..."

Intoned with gallantry and ready to continue with what she intended to express, she realized that she was wrong and rectified herself:

"What did you say?"

Rey folded his arms and kept silent as if he did not intend to repeat himself. The voice continued:

"Clamoring is not a style of combat" Pausing, she argued her answer. "What, you didn't find it fabulous to fight against so many subjects!!! Are you in the wrong circle? Because if you're really superb and live up to those sharp eyes of yours, there's no way you'd want to give up your beliefs to learn someone else's."

"They were no longer humans, much less warriors with pride. I only fought desperate ghosts who wished to win an eternal 'last stand'..." After yawning deeply, he continued, "You are no different" The little boy turned to look at the Parcae. "Edith... let's leave."

The voice, in an insulted tone, said:

"How dare you, you have a broken arm, you can hardly breathe properly and you dare underestimate the power of someone like me? I don't mind losing to anyone, but I won't lose to you! Face me just once! I assure you... you'll end up begging me to be your master...."

Rey even paid attention to the desperate sounding words.

"Only someone I recognize as worthy or courageous enough to enter battle at my side could be my master. A coward reluctant to show his face is even close to being worthy of such a title! Farewell. Immerse yourself in your ideals and keep waiting for someone like you."

Suddenly, another voice spread through the place like a melody. One that sounded relaxed and powerful, which stopped Rey's gait:

"Little one. You must not leave. There is still time for you to find what you seek and, if you accept my bargain, to learn the ways of sorcery."

"Yes, it must be her. That lady of benevolent character, true to her convictions, brave, selfless and strong-willed." After thinking, Rey named aloud:

"Clara" As he turned his face away.

The eyes of the little boy without a surname reacted as if they were in for a big surprise, for, like the statues, they encountered the figure of a young and beautiful woman. Pale skin, light brown eyes, hair of the same color, long and braided. With the body of someone brave, but the look of an innocent, worried and protective girl. She wore a crown of olives on her head, a low-cut white dress of thin fabric and two straps that reached just above her knees and sandals that braided her ropes to her ankles. It could be said that, had it not been for her voice, Rey would not recognize her, even if she passed in front of him. Not only because of her appearance, but also because of her look. She, whom the little boy remembered as a being past in years, with an illustrious, pure and clean personality, looked young and sad. Perhaps due to the fact that the individual who had spoken before had become so arrogant.

Clara, somewhat quizzical, said:

"Yes, indeed. And you are...?"

As soon as she asked the question, she flashed a smile and a gesture of obviousness at the sight of the little boy's white eyes. Like someone judging herself for having forgotten, she continued:

"You are the son of Mrs. Maryam and Mr. Wulfgang. Forgive my memory, but I don't think I ever got to hear your name."

"My name is Rey. I have no surname..."

Clara, with the gentleness of a grandmother watching her grandson, said:

"I see. I'm glad you are still alive and that you grew up so strong and noble...".

But, deep down, she was somewhat disappointed. She had hoped that the one who had recognized him just by the way he looked would still be who he had ceased to be, after all he had found his way back to his castle. But no. It was not him.

The other voice said in complaint:

"Old woman, that I have no time for your talk. In a fight between men you should not get involved even if you are the one who trained me. My pride would not allow my enemy to show me mercy for knowing you!"

Clara, ignoring the words of the so proud man with the young and muscular body coming out from behind the statues, continued to talk to the little boy:

"Rey, forgive me and forgive him. I must confess that it is my fault for his behavior. Among all my disciples, there are many who mastered my advanced style, the Water Lord; few developed any skill related to the control of the liquid, except him. Therefore, my great-grandson proclaimed himself to be the Rey of the proud and a God-ranked user."

Rey could understand that he was the only one among the human disciples with elemental control and since there was no one like him among his peers, he had been carried away by pride. Calling himself a God style user was not very sensible, although perhaps because he fought against humans it made him underestimate the greatness of God rank. It was better to call him False God. Though from his body structure, Rey could tell that the subject present was serious about his training, but perhaps he had had neither goal nor rival, and had not grown at all or exploited his greatest potential to the fullest.