Don’t Blame Me

"Ahhh…"

Another scream echoed from the distance. Liam Caine knew there was no choice but to lead his team forward to confront the threat.

Zack Wright, the exorcist with incredible jumping ability, had been cut down, one of his legs severed cleanly. He was now being helped back by Theo Carter, both of them battered and bleeding.

"What happened?" Liam asked urgently, as one of the team members rushed over to help Zack with his injuries. Luckily, the exorcist's weapon had healing abilities.

"A group of robed figures. Couldn't gauge their strength, but one of them cut Zack's leg clean off with a single strike!" Theo gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "The guys who brought our food—they're all dead. Their vehicle got blown up."

"Get yourselves together, everyone!" Liam commanded, scanning his team with grim determination. "We may not make it out of here alive."

"But they won't get away either!"

"Kill them!"

The exorcists roared in fury, their veins bulging with rage. Each of them had accepted their fate, their battle lust now at its peak.

In the distance, five figures in gray robes approached slowly. Their faces and bodies were entirely hidden beneath their long cloaks, making it impossible to discern their gender or identity. Yet, the oppressive aura they radiated was unmistakable—each of them carried a presence as strong as Captain Anya's, though theirs was far more terrifying and sinister.

Liam knew their odds against these cloaked figures were slim, but no one in his team faltered. Their eyes burned with defiance as they faced their deadly opponents.

"Did Lady Hawthorne say we had to kill them?" one of the gray-robed figures asked, turning to the others.

"No, she didn't. But they'll defend the Bull-Headed Aberration, so we have to kill them regardless," another responded matter-of-factly.

"Hehehehe…" The third robed figure let out a giggle—girlish, but disturbingly eerie.

Without further conversation, two of the figures stepped forward, drawing curved blades, and charged at the exorcists.

The gleam of their weapons cut through the night like sharp, deadly claws, slicing through the air with unnerving precision.

Liam took the lead, drawing his sword, the Sentinel, and swung it in a wide arc, unleashing two powerful slashes of energy aimed directly at the cloaked attackers.

But the figures moved unnaturally, contorting their bodies like twisted marionettes. They dodged his energy slashes with impossible agility, their bodies shrinking to avoid the attack. When the energy dissipated, they resumed their original forms, closing the distance with alarming speed.

Several exorcists stepped forward, their enchanted weapons glowing brightly.

A torrent of fire burst from one exorcist's blade, forcing the two attackers to split apart. Black arrows followed, launching from the flames and striking the cloaked figures squarely. The exorcists cheered—finally, a hit!

But their celebration was short-lived. The figures simply snapped the arrows in half as if they were twigs and continued their relentless charge. Now, they were almost upon the exorcists.

Sweat dripped from Liam's brow. He exchanged a wordless glance with his comrades before yelling, "Hold the line!"

The two cloaked attackers descended upon the exorcists like wolves among sheep, their curved blades slashing through the air with deadly precision. The exorcists fought valiantly, but they were quickly overwhelmed, forced back by the sheer power of the assault.

"Why do they even resist us?"

The remaining three cloaked figures stood off to the side, idly watching the carnage unfold.

"Because they're foolish relics of the old world, still ignorant of the truth of this one," one replied, sounding almost amused.

"Hehehe… I can't wait to eat them…" the girl in gray giggled again, her voice sending a chill down anyone who heard it.

"Then you can have the leftovers," another cloaked figure replied. She had once been Lady Hawthorne's favorite, but after offending her, she was transformed into this crazed form—a human weapon like the rest of them.

"Hehehe… I'll clean up after them," the girl in gray replied eagerly, her eyes locked on the battle with disturbing focus.

Elsewhere, Danny Locke, one of the exorcists, barely managed to block a brutal strike from the curved blade, the force of the blow leaving his hands numb. Before he could react, he heard the unmistakable sound of another blade cutting through the air behind him.

His weapon had been effective at holding off the attackers, but now, Danny was trapped—caught between two of the robed figures. His ears rang with the deadly whistling of the blade.

Blood splattered across the battlefield, but it wasn't Danny's.

Standing between him and death was his comrade, Lucas Fields. The older man had taken the full force of the blade meant for Danny, his frail body crumpling to the ground.

"Lucas!" Danny screamed, rushing to his fallen friend. They rolled together to the ground, narrowly dodging another strike from the robed assailants. Several other exorcists jumped in, trying to fend off the attackers and buy Danny time.

"Don't blame me…" Lucas coughed, blood spilling from his mouth as he struggled to speak. His eyes were glassy, his voice weak.

His entire abdomen had been sliced open, his intestines spilling out onto the ground.

"Don't blame me… for taking your last piece of meat… I was just… so hungry…"