Adorned In Blood

The sound of squishing mud was heard, its soft plopping noises in marching cadence with the splattering water. Dirt was thrown everywhere, onto the bark of trees, the nearby foliage and the now muddy tunic which wrapped around a bloody leg. Of course, the crimson was no longer visible, now layered below a thick clay layer, like a pot in the process of being moulded.

Virt's backpack shifted up and down, carried forth by his inertia. Eventually, he simply tightened the strap around his chest and broke off into a full sprint, pain be damned.

His leg oozed red, the dry blood which had closed the wound now breaking apart, reopening it. Virt had a relatively low level of medical knowledge, but he knew that there was now an especially high chance of infection. Especially with that mud surrounding it.

He did not care.

There were children to save.

'Screw my leg. Screw the Church. Screw whoever left these kids here.'

He had acted all high and mighty a few moments ago, cursing why he did not just simply finish himself.

But now, in the presence of his duty, he could not turn back.

Like some twisted instinct wired into his bones—he couldn't help but move.

The whispers of prayer turned to a scream, gradually drawing him closer to its source.

The grey smoke now billowed over him, its towering silhouette dwarfing even the distance Earthen Mountains. Somewhere ahead, Virt could make out a small fire, slowly dwindling, chipped away by the strong winds and persistent rain.

Virt continued his dash, the screams devolving into a single, incoherent screech. Faint wisps of iron could be smelled alongside the strong scent of burning wood.

The fire grew closer.

A clearing could be seen up ahead, a primitive campfire very obviously placed in the center where the trees strayed from.

Almost like they were scared of something.

Virt slowed to a crawl, the deafening screeches overpowering everything but his habits, drilled into him by that ruthless instructor Mane.

Finally, his mind grew quiet.

The sizzling of cracking timber could be heard, granted an entrance into Virt's eardrums from the parting of wails.

Before him lay a grey stone building, its pointed roof towering above most of the surrounding trees.

Virt approached the ruin, the once grand walls of a broken cathedral now a charred mess, its only remaining feature the dove on the entrance. Ashes lumped together at its sides, as if it had only recently been scorched.

Inside, a loud thudding noise could be heard. Every thud sent a quake across the earth, shaking it to its very core.

It was not weight which sent the ground into a frenzy–its fear of what roamed above the burned surface did.

It was in that building where Virt heard a faint whisper.

A prayer.

"Please, Sid, Mane, Virt, anyone… save us."

The echoes reverberated throughout the interior of the deteriorating structure.

The plea turned into a flare, one meant to attract hope.

But with hope came despair.

And from there, all hell broke loose.

The ground trembled, as if a precursor of what was yet to come, instantly, chaos rippled through the air, belligerent screams and cries tearing through space.

"You fool! We signalled not to talk!"

The voice which replied was unintelligible, buried under screams of the other children and its own sniffles.

Virt was already leaping into action, thrusting away his bag and running toward the abandoned building.

Before he could make it there, Virt's leg gave out, collapsing under his weight.

'This fucking-'

He manifested a brace of Light, surrounding his leg in its cool embrace, tightening around the wounded limb and acting like a crutch.

With this, he could run.

He could fight.

He dashed into the desecrated monument, expanding his Zone and lighting up the whole area.

His mind registered what happened before his eyes did.

Bodies lay, limp and lifeless, their dark blood painting the oak benches of the church in a sick reversal.

Children hid behind pillars, trembling at the sight, their eyes wide and mouth shut, some forcibly closing it with their palms.

There was a devil in the sacred halls.

A scaly, purple rodent.

The human-sized Other lay on all four limbs, its whip-like tail moving along the dusty floor, as if scouting the region. Its incisors jutted out of its mouth, blood and bone shoved between the gap.

Its paws were fitted with sharp claws, and all of them were currently set upon another young boy, bruised and battered, but ultimately alive.

That young boy did not move, even his eyes seeming to be fixated on the giant rat on top of him.

Before Virt could react, the rodent bent down, delivering an awful bite onto the head of the young boy.

Or so Virt thought.

A bar of Light flashed before the boy's eyes, its radiance blinding everyone in the room for a few moments.

Including the rodent.

Diving below the beast, he snatched the child away like an eagle did its prey, tossing the child behind a large pillar which hid four of his kin.

The boy was safe.

However, neither the Other nor Virt was.