Black Heart
Roland dashed forward, swooping low this time with his arm trailing downward; he feigned to attack the head but shifted his body and delivered a low kick. He sidestepped and plunged his elbow right into the young man's ribs. He heard bones crunch, and the young-faced assailant attempted to dash away. Roland exhaled a cool breath and pressed forward. He took two steps forward before desperately dodging to one side and parrying the daggers flying towards him.
A deranged smile creased against the fellow's face; this time, his attacks arrived in a flurry of quick and precise downward strikes. Roland felt his arm shake each time he parried a strike. He couldn't maintain this much longer and bit his lip down out of frustration. Another dagger aimed for his heart; Roland shifted his body and allowed the dagger to pierce his shoulder. The blade didn't budge and remained lodged in his muscle. The young-faced man flipped the second dagger so its bite pointed downwards; he rose like a viper toward Roland. A glint of madness flashed across his face as his dagger slammed down.
"Now you die."
Roland's gaze widened as he entered a deep focus. He dropped the glass dagger, and with his left hand, he pulled out the dagger lodged into his shoulder. Roland's feet remained planted against the ground. With his eyes refusing to blink, he followed the dagger all the way. He timed everything to perfection and sidestepped, the dagger buried between his clavicle. A searing pain shot down his arm; Roland didn't miss a beat and drove the dagger through the fellow's stomach. The fellow's body jerked upwards as Roland drove the dagger as deep as it could go; at the same time, he felt the dagger lodged into his shoulder dive deeper into his flesh and bone.
{Warning! Warning! Host has taken critical damage}
'I know-i know shut up!'
Roland shook away the mechanical voices and exhaled a deep breath.
He saw the round eyes of the fellow rattling out of panic; the young man creased a cruel smile before he coughed out clots of blood against Rolands's cheek.
"Heh-heh...I knew it...something...strange about you-cr-crip-cripple...gyeuk." Roland felt the dagger being pushed deeper into his arm.
Instead of growing weaker, the psycho was trying to take him down with him.
The pain shot through his right arm like electricity burning through his bones. He understood that without Omega's help, he would've already passed out.
"H-heh. At least I'll...be glad to know... I'll be seeing you in hell w-with me...heh-heh—hyuek-hah-aha."
Roland shifted his attention towards the dagger plunged into his body; if this continued any longer, then there was no way he would make it out without incurring a mortal wound. Left to make a split decision so quickly, the mental cogs began to move. Roland held no intention of dying, nor was he feeling heroic enough to sacrifice himself to rid the world of this psycho.
Instead, his eyes flashed open as dark thoughts centred in his thoughts. A cold wind swept through his mind, and Roland lunged his face towards the fellow's side and opened his mouth. "You can go to hell on your own. You deranged bastard."
He opened his mouth wide before he bit down against the neck with force and tore away flesh. A spray of warm blood filled his mouth.
{Bloodlust depleted}
{Bloodlust depleted}
{Bloodlust depleted}
{Bloodlust depleted}
At this point, Roland was devoid of any clear thoughts and sunk his teeth deeper. He felt the dagger move in his shoulder. Pain assaulted him again, but that only sent Roland's rage into a frenzy. Each time he tore flesh and spat it out, he breathed out a murky breath. Time passed, and by now, Roland already understood he had lost himself in the barbarity of his actions; there wasn't any notion of stopping until he met the callous hard bone barring him from biting any deeper. Something seemed to remind him he was human and not a monster.
When Roland finally came around, he realised two things had happened. On the one hand, he clutched onto a stiffened body, sprawled lifelessly in his arms with half of a neck torn apart and left in a caked fleshy mess. And in the second breath, the entire forest had gone eerily quiet.
Roland released the body and watched in horror as it fell to the ground like a sack of meat.
He blinked a few times in quick succession, clutching at the loose clothes around his chest and taking a few steps back. His heart was racing again. Faster than he had ever felt it.
'Omega-omega-omega...wh-wha-wha-what did I...i..i'
And just then, a delicate voice found him in the depths of his darkening turmoil. Her voice brushed past him a few times, but once he felt her frail hand, Roland jolted awake.
"H-hey, it's... it's ok...you won."
Twisting his head to one side, he saw the quite miserable-looking state of the little Swallow. Her thin frame was covered in fresh wounds; her short, silvery hair was a mess. But the most bizarre thing was the right side of her face. During the fight, Roland guessed half of her blindfold had been sliced at some point, revealing one of her large round eyes. A wonderous cyan tint filled with flickering flecks of gold and grey. Her lashes flew away from her lids like a score of doves. Roland was stunned for a brief moment; he couldn't remember seeing someone so angelic-looking.
He swiftly raised his gaze past her short stature. Where he slightly flinched, seeing the sprawl of dismembered bodies scattered around the clearing.
A whirring noise sounded within his thoughts, and a pulsating pain splintered against his temple.
{Congratulations on the battle won. My dear Host. Heart rate increased by 150%, but the Host's natural healing compulsion showed remarkable efficiency. Omega estimates it should take the host 2hrs, 34 minutes and 12 seconds to recover from the wounds sustained during the battle}
Roland rubbed his sore head and absentmindedly nodded. He tried to take a step forward, but his joints almost caved. The Swallow caught him midfall, thankfully.
"Jheez, look at you, almost dying before having a chance to live. You really are pitiful, weak prince." Although her cold words were the same, Roland noticed a pleasant smile creased against her small, round face. He chuckled painfully, understanding he had no strength to say anything back right now.
'This must be the backlash of predator mode. I...I need to remember that.'
"Right, since this likely will be the last time I spectate your awful fighting prowess. Let me grade your first real test. Ahem, now then, where should I start. Right! You were sloppy, although your movements were perfect and efficient for someone barely used to an iron-ranked body. You're still a low iron. And going against a core Iron like that was silly at best. Thankfully, he underestimated you. I counted five times when he could've killed you, but instead, he wished to toy with you. That's the only reason he's *gulp* left in that state."
Roland glanced one last time over his shoulder at the corpse. He felt a slight pang in his chest; he realised it wasn't regret but a slight fear. A fear towards his own sanity.
'I tore his flesh away, I... I tried to ea-'
"But rejoice, you won. And that's all that matters. You're alive because you won. And he's not alive. Because he lost. Whatever else you want to fixate on...breathe in and breathe it all away...little...prince."
Roland exhaled a pent-up breath and choked slightly on bitter bile built up from the wounds inside his mouth. The Swallow held him by one side, and despite the glaring height difference, they hobbled forward side by side.
The ground sloped upwards, and the thin trees grew apart until Roland could see the dense blue skies again in the approaching distance. On top of the hill, the golden sun peered through from the other side.
"Phew finally made it. Come on, let's hope they're here." They staggered up the slightly raised hill. By now, Roland was beginning to gain more mobility in his heavily fatigued body. The bizarre healing factor of his body was still a mystery to him, but it seemed to serve him well: ' Without it, I would've died fighting.' There was more to be thankful for than feared at this point.
Along the way, he kept quiet for a few reasons. His prime focus was on the pixelated screen floating in his view.
His stats were the same, except for one glaring change.
{Bloodlust: 46%}
Roland stared at the decreased values with a host of complex thoughts. The main thought was whether he was still human or not, a question he eagerly hoped the immersion into the world of magic might help him answer.
***
They arrived at the summit of the hill and thus exited the crowded forest, which was only a few feet away. Roland shielded his gaze from the blinding sun pouring its bountiful rays of gold over him. His eyes met the view of rolling hills and vast meadowy plains. No castles or mountains were in sight—simply a radiant blue covering the entire heavens. Before he could relax, Roland lowered his gaze; along the bright road twisted around the meadow sat two black-painted carriages with thick iron wheels.
A group of men in heavy armour gathered; some used whetstones to clean their great swords, and others looked to have been sleeping. One man amongst the nonchalant group wore a nervy look, with his eyes poised on high alert along the empty road.
A wave of euphoria quelled Roland's anxious spirits. Other than the new wisps of silver twisted with the heavy, dark silk of hair the man donned, he felt extremely glad to finally place an eye on the man known as Brutus, his uncle.
"We did it...come on, let's go and-" Roland took one step forward and felt the girl's weight loosen off his arm. The Swallow took a few steps back and glanced towards the crowded forest.
"My job is done. Little...heh, Roland?"
Hearing his name for the first time felt strangely warm, but it also felt final.
Roland's mouth parted in a bid to say something.
"Save your worries, I can't come with you." The Swallow quickly interjected.
"Heh, I must make sure Big Brother is alright. That dragon is trouble ya kno...sigh. But don't overthink; our duty is to protect you. And protect you we have. So... go and be great, away from this place."
The Swallow gave him a thumbs up before she scurried down the hill, and as quickly as Roland could blink, the silver-haired girl had vanished. She was gone just as quickly as he could blink.
'Both of them were gone?
A cycle of memories flashed across his mind, from the very first time he met the purple-masked figure to the day he carried him in haste after the ambush. So much has happened, yet their goodbyes were so quick he barely had time to process anything.
Roland stood there in silence, feeling the formless wind brushing through his tired frame. Once her back melded with the shadows afar, a gentle voice lingered in the passing wind.
"Grow strong...Weak Prince."
***
Roland exhaled a heavy breath as he took a few more steps forward, finally arriving in the line of sight of the men stationed in the middle of the bright dust road. His Uncle Brutus was the first to spot his arrival. The old brute's stiffened features naturally softened as the heavy-built figure clothed in dark armour swiftly made haste towards him.
Sounds of iron clattered noisily while the towering fellow arrived by his side and quickly swept him up into a bearish hug. Roland felt the wind slightly knocked out of his chest, but the embrace was warm, and the longer it went on, the more at ease he was beginning to feel. This felt rare. Roland hadn't felt this secure around someone since his transmigration.
"Thank the Goddess; you're alive and well." Uncle Brutus drew his gaze away and searched the area behind him in suspicion. A stiffened glare scanned across the heavy forest. Once he realised all was well, he breathed a relaxing sigh through his bearded mouth.
"What...what happened?" His uncle inquired with a grave expression.
Roland lowered his gaze slightly in thought.
'Good question. What the hell happened.'
Between his dealings with the ancient Rune, he mistakenly brought into his sea of awareness. And that mysterious realm covered in white sand where he heard things such as 'time wizard' and 'deities' Roland wasn't exactly sure how to best answer that question. Amid his thoughts, he did remember the triggering thing he first heard upon waking up during their escape.
"Uncle...My Grand... I think the Patriarch is dead." Roland said with a tone of slight unease. Brutus visibly shivered once he heard that; he shifted his deep brown eyes around concerningly before placing a firm stare upon Roland.
"Do you know who the new head of the clan is?"
Roland kept silent and tried remembering the brief things the willow had told him.
"Ye-yes! E-eric Cloud is the new patriarch," he said quietly.
That announcement drew another gloomy look against his uncle's face. Uncle Brutus smoothed his beard several times before signalling his men into action.
"We should make haste then and be on our way. Lady Herone is likely the cause of all this madness. And if I know anything about that woman, she'll relentlessly pursue us until we've crossed the border. You have everything you need, yes?"
Roland glanced at the large sack he slung against his back with mixed feelings. Other than a few scrolls, the glassed black dagger, and the pale mask inside, he carried nothing else but the clothes against his back. He combed over the way he had just come from. He felt lost when he remembered the two he had left behind.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a few moments. Finally ready to open, his mind felt clearer.
"Alright, I'm ready. Let's get out of this place."