Const Orphanage 29

As the indoor lights began to flicker erratically, casting alternating shadows and illumination, Georgewill's figure appeared even more sinister and terrifying. Each time the light brightened, it seemed to draw closer to the two, its bleeding eye and ferocious expression reminiscent of a demon crawling out from the depths of hell.

Its four arms wildly flailed in the air, movements grotesque and frenzied, like a dark deity on the edge of shadow and light, waiting to snatch and devour human souls.

Eerie in the extreme.

Altair took a deep breath and quietly said to Elvira, "You go first."

But Elvira stepped forward, patting his shoulder, "That won't do. I won't give you another chance to save me this time."

"It's dangerous here." Altair's voice was cold, but Elvira detected a subtle note of concern. "Don't be stubborn."

"When you distract it, I'll pierce its other eye," Elvira said, staring determinedly at Georgewill's eyes. "It makes me miserable; I must kill it."

No sooner had he spoken than the lights suddenly brightened! Georgewill charged like a berserk beast, launching kicks and punches at Altair, raining down on him like a torrential downpour.

Altair simply positioned himself to block and defend, not launching an attack immediately. He leaned slightly, deftly dodging one fierce blow after another.

From behind Altair, Elvira continuously shot flying knives, aiming directly at Georgewill's eyes, forcing it to dodge left and right.

When Georgewill threw a right hook at Altair's jaw, Altair slightly shifted his body, easily avoiding the attack. Following that, Georgewill attempted a high kick at Altair's head, which Altair blocked with his arm before forcefully pushing forward, sending Georgewill stumbling several steps backward.

Seizing the opportunity, Elvira leaped up from Altair's shoulder, using it as a platform to spring into the air. He landed securely on Georgewill's shoulder, holding a flying knife firmly in his hand.

Altair clenched his fist, gathering strength for a powerful punch to Georgewill's abdomen, followed by a precise side kick to its waist. Finally, he gripped Georgewill's wrists tightly in his hands.

Perched atop its head, Elvira aimed the flying knife at Georgewill's remaining eye and thrust it forward fiercely!

"Ah—"

With Georgewill's other eye successfully pierced by Elvira, it let out a sharp and mournful wail. The pain brought it to its knees, collapsing weakly to the ground.

Elvira leaped off Georgewill's head, landing on the ground and quickly performing a forward roll, his movements swift and agile.

Finally, he had successfully blinded Georgewill in both eyes.

Altair approached Georgewill, bending down to stroke its forehead.

Broken images appeared before his left eye:

"Will—Will—" a boy called out, clutching a piece of hard bread as he ran through the streets.

Night had already fallen, and the cold wind howled like a blade. The running boy was thin, his clothes too light, trembling in the wind.

"Will—"

Then, from a pile of trash at the corner of the street, an even thinner boy emerged, his dirty face like that of a helpless kitten. Hearing the call, he struggled to crawl out.

"George! George! I'm here!"

George hurried to Will's side, taking his hand.

"Will, how's your illness?" George touched Will's forehead, asking worriedly.

"You still have a fever!" George quickly sat down with Will in the trash pile, attempting to shield him from the biting wind.

"Brother, I might not make it." Will's voice was weak as he clung to George's sleeve, breathing laboriously.

"Don't talk nonsense!" George, frightened, hugged his brother tightly, trying to sound strong as he comforted Will, "You're going to be okay!"

Quickly, George helped Will sit beside a pile of trash, trying to shield him from the biting wind with his own frail body. "Look what I've got for you!"

He carefully pulled out a piece of bread from his embrace, treating it like a precious gem.

"Here, little brother, eat some. This will make you feel better." George gently broke the bread into small pieces, feeding them to Will.

"Brother, you eat too." Will struggled to chew the cold, hard bread, then offered some to George. To them, this piece of bread was a rare treat in the winter.

"I'm not hungry, you eat. I already had something on the way here." George rubbed his arms, which were covered in bruises.

Those were marks left from being caught and beaten by the shopkeeper when he was trying to steal the bread. Holding Will, George felt a piercing pain.

"Brother, let's light a match." Will huddled in George's arms, shivering uncontrollably.

In the depths of a trash pile, George found their sole treasure—a half-box of matches. Likely due to a bundle of trash not being properly tied, its juices leaked out, dampening the matches and rendering nearly all unusable.

George carefully selected, finally discovering the only match that could still be struck.

His hands trembling, he placed his hand on his neck, barely managing to feel a sensation. He gathered some scrap paper from the trash, took the match, and struck it against the box, igniting it.

A faint yet warm flame danced at George's fingertips. So bright, so warm. George and Will couldn't help but stare at the small light.

"Brother, I see a future with lots of delicious food for us," Will said, gazing into the flame, his eyes full of longing.

"There will be, Will, there will be," George reassured him. "Lots of delicious food, warm clothes, and a big house." George hugged Will tightly.

At that moment, snowflakes began to drift from the sky, falling gently, dreamlike and surreal.

This was the year's first snow, beautiful and pure.

On such a night of early snow, lovers huddled close, dressed in heavy winter clothes, hand in hand amidst the falling snow, making eternal vows.

The warm candlelight reflected on their faces, tipsy from the intoxication and deep kisses, creating the most romantic scene of the winter night.

"Snow is falling, snow is falling!" Children's excited cheers could be heard in the distance, as people opened their windows and stepped outside to greet the arrival of the first snow.

The snow grew heavier, as if the entire world was being enveloped in white. People clapped their hands joyfully, broke into cheerful dances, and sang moving songs.

Snowflakes gently landed on the trash pile, one by one, countless, as if all the snowflakes had gathered there.

George protected the fragile flame from the snowflakes, his hand trembling slightly from the cold wind, but he was determined to shield the flame at all costs.

As the light grew dimmer, despair filled George's heart. He looked up at the sky, tears glittering in his eyes, shaking his head repeatedly.

This was the only light Will could see, each second so precious.

The merry singing of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" came from afar. People were frolicking and playing together, their laughter and chatter unending.

Will slowly closed his eyes, as if he could hear his mother's gentle call deep inside. Snowflakes gently covered his face, taking away his last bit of warmth.

The weak flame struggled against the wind and snow, but ultimately it was extinguished. The brothers' only source of warmth was gone.

"Will? Will?" George felt Will's breath growing fainter and softly called out his brother's name.

Will no longer had the strength to respond; he felt his body burning as if engulfed in flames, perhaps this fever was a kind of relief for him, at least it could provide George a bit of warmth.

"Will... Will..." George held Will tightly, choking up as he called out his name. His voice was filled with endless grief and helplessness.

"Brother... hold me tight, then... you won't feel cold..." With effort, Will tugged at George's sleeve before losing consciousness.

George felt his body growing colder, as if covered by snow and ice, his consciousness gradually fading. Yet, he clung to Will desperately, tightly.

They were never to be parted.

Amidst his fading consciousness, he heard a man's voice, "Who's there?"

George no longer had the energy to reply; he only faintly felt a warm, large hand caressing his head.

The man dug them out of the trash pile.

He and his brother were saved. George couldn't help but shed tears.