Minus Sixty One

What feeling of crawling under your skin. That prickling sensation that spread to your very core, straight to the stomach. Diego violently attempted to overwrite this feeling through cleaning himself, scrubbing his skin hard enough to make it irradiate with a reddish glow, similarly to his hair.

The young man was hyperventilating, scrubbing his arms, more and more, until all of the grime and dirt were gone. He needed it gone, he needed to be clean, he needed to feel clean. He needed to bleed, even if it were a little bit.

Diego took a deep breath, wiping down his body with a wash cloth, a tired look in his eyes.

I think it was just before I left Osuna... that was the last time I felt this shitty. He thought to himself, rubbing his collar slightly.

That feeling of touch that he'd get, he despised it because it would end up with that sensation... the sensation of crawling. That feeling of illness that had buried itself deep within his gut. Pain caused the feeling to subside in some way, along with washing himself.

It's a combination of things: the collective stress that had been built up for a time, the anger, the disgust. An overwhelming well of emotions, along with the reminder that he'll never be like anyone else. His red hair, the weight that has sat itself upon his scarred back.

Why do people within the Dharatee despise those with Crimson Hair?

Three decades ago, long before Diego was even a thought in his mother's mind, a man reigned across the snowy regions of the Dharatee. A man clad in white with long red hair that whipped against the storms that surrounded them. The Demon Lord.

For a time, they were considered one of the strongest men on the continent. No Mantra Blades, no Elioud. They were just power incarnate. They had raised arms against the people with a myriad of red-haired soldiers, slaughtering innocents all the while.

The Demon Lord had only one motivation in life, and that was to lead the Mortal Races of this world into a new age of evolutionary advancements, believing that the persistent influence of religious authorities had tainted the common people's motivation for progress, so he decided to instill progress himself through his very fists. He willed it through words and physical violence alone.

If the people needed a common enemy, he would become that enemy.

Thousands were killed in the path of the Demon Lord, until, one day, the Hero King of Haflastus revealed themselves, Mantra Blade in hand, Ilias Ioannes Nikolaou. Ilias took arms against the Demon Lord, and through their clash, societies fell. A man who wielded a Mantra Blade against one who rivaled the Mantra Blades themselves.

Legends have stated that if those who carried Mantra Blades were to clash, countries would fall to ruin from the battle alone, from the sheer power these weapons carried.

They were right, and through that, the Demon Lord was finally felled by the slayer of Lords, the Hero King Ilias.

From then on, the prejudice against red-haired people has persisted, believing them to be rageful and war-hungry. Not that the remnants of the Demon Lord's army had helped their cases.

Rumors have it that the Generals who had remained loyal to the Demon Lord persist to this day. It isn't impossible, as Ilias remains alive and healthy, barely looking a day over forty.

That is why someone like Diego is hated; it is why some discriminate against him just from his hair alone.

Diego looked down at a notebook set out atop a desktop set within the room he bought for himself at the local inn. It held various notes, medical, and crafting-related. They didn't share any sort of consistency. Diagrams showed off the make of his Flyssa and Harpoon. He flipped further to find sketches of random people in the city, speculations about any conditions or health issues they may suffer from.

He continued to flip through his notebook until he landed on a page regarding his mother. Diego licked his lips, scanning the page. It was a vague reference to what he remembered, trying his best to recall what she looked like, maybe finding out what had done her in. What was the real reason for her death?

Overdose seemed to be the only possibility he landed on after pages upon pages of notes. His eyes narrowed before closing the notebook.

Diego's attention turned to the door. Clicking could be hard on the other side.

Someone was trying to break in.

Diego took slow steps around the room, looking for a hiding place, watching the door.

Click, clack, tick, click.

Click!

The door unlocked, slowly opening as two men slowly walked in, scanning the room for the red-headed young man. They brandished broadswords, searching as hard as they could, failing to look up.

Diego clung to the ceiling, Flyssa in hand. The ball of his left foot was pressed against the doorframe as his other leg wedged itself into the corner of the ceiling, one hand gripping onto the scaffolding. Diego watched as one of their friends peeked their head into the room.

He shifted one foot across the ceiling, leaning forward as the door slowly crept open, more and more until it fully touched the wall behind it.

Diego dropped down with his knife, directly into the man's shoulder, before slamming into him, pushing them right out into the hallway.

The noise made the other two whip around, noticing Diego assaulting their comrade, blood quickly staining the man's clothes, the end of Diego's blade poking out from their chest. They looked panicked, and Diego acted quickly, making sure not to waste a moment.

Diego had made sure to aim the blade inwardly; all he needed to do was pull.

Diego pushed further into the man, pulling the handle of his Flyssa downward, cleaving into the man's lung, using the momentum to pull them to the floor, falling limp, dead.

Diego stumbled over the body, and his comrades rushed forward.

One swipe from the bastard sword of the man in front of him clipped Diego's face, but he managed to dodge out of the way before it could hit him. Just as the sword passed, it cleaved a bit of the wood in front of it, causing the wall to splinter.

Blood streamed down Diego's face, but the onslaught wasn't over. With barely a second passing, the other man stabbed forward, aiming for the young man's chest.

He dodged out of the way, slamming a shoulder into them, using their imbalance to knock them back into the wall behind them.

Again, the one who struck Diego previously sliced at him again. Diego slammed a foot into the man's leg, causing them to stumble over themselves.

Diego stumbled back as the men in front of him scrambled back into position.

They swing again, Diego ducking under the first strike, bending his body and slicing his blade through the other, letting the tip of his flyssa cut through the man's forearm. Diego wrapped one arm around their neck, using the momentum to throw himself back into his room, cutting them once again, aiming for their back.

Blood seeped out from the man's wounds, causing them to retreat as the uninjured one of the group slipped back in with a never-before-seen fury.

Diego knelt low, grabbing his harpoon, keeping it in his offhand as the man approached.

Diego threw the harpoon at the man, who smacked it away with the tip of their blade. Using that moment, Diego slid right from underneath the man's feet, stabbing at them with his main hand, quickly deflected. This man was much more experienced in combat compared to his other two companions.

The man took a peculiar stance, the edge of his blade pressing against their shoulder while their other hand was held close to their face.

Swipe, Diego was almost hit, but he could barely see the strike as it was suddenly back onto the man's shoulder, shuffling closer and closer.

Another miss, Diego saw it this time as the blade fired out at a lightning-fast speed before reaching back onto the man's shoulder. They changed their stance, their off-hand now in front of them as their blade stuck close to their shoulder.

Diego attempted to duck as they made a wide arch with their weapon, clipping a chunk of Diego's arm in the process. Diego stumbled back, bleeding from the arm and face. Before he could react, the cohort from before jumped out to attack him, still injured from Diego's previous onslaught.

Diego slipped downward, kicking the man again in the knee, causing them to stumble forward. He rolled onto the floor, using his legs to flip the man up and over him as his comrade rushed out from Diego's room. The man's eyes locked onto Diego's offhand, which gripped a rope.

Diego pulled, the harpoon sliding across the ground, knocking the man out from under his feet. Diego spun around, holstering his flyssa in one swift motion and throwing his harpoon with his new free hand at the injured cohort behind him.

Diego overshot completely, jumping to the side as a blade narrowly missed his shoulder.

The uninjured assailant attempted to pin the young man against the wall, but Diego managed to jump out of the way just in time, bringing his harpoon with him. Both men began rushing down the hall, Diego, fatigued, took his harpoon in hand once more, readying it for a throw.

Diego ran backward as fast as he could, throwing his harpoon in tandem, rocketing over the shoulder of the injured assailant, grazing their shoulder for a moment before Diego pulled as hard as he could, digging the weapon into their shoulder and falling down the stairs.

Diego pushed himself across every step, dragging the man down with him until he reached the bottom. A few other ingoers had awakened, looking to see what the commotion was about on the opposite end of the building by now. Holding lamps up to their faces as they slowly crept through the darkened lobby.

The cohort was stunned in pain, clutching their shoulder. Diego put a foot against the wound, violently ripping the harpoon out from their shoulder, causing blood to spray across the floor. They cried out, voice shaking as they clutched their wound.

Diego waited as his uninjured companion came rushing down the stairs, stopping in the middle of the steps, holding a stunned silence as he watched his friend cry out in pain.

Diego was desperate to make it out alive, and his expression showed it, pupils dilated, ready to pounce at any moment. 

"You... you fucking demon!" They growled at the young man, palms becoming red as they held a tighter grip on their longsword.

"You're the one comin' to ambush me in the night, asshole."

The man's head whipped around, watching as lights approached the stairs. His mouth went to open, "He-" Diego's harpoon shot out, catching the man in the chest before yanking them violently down the stairs. The man's eyes widened in an almost harrowing pain, arms locked to their sides as they gasped.

Diego quickly ripped off the shirt of one of the men, draping it around his head before dragging the man from the hooks of his javelin outside.

Diego rounded into an alleyway, whipping his harpoon around, dislodging it from the man's back, taking a chunk of it with him as blood sprayed across the walls and ground. Diego's breath was labored, watching the man flail in pain. His eyes were wide with terror, but he blinked it all away, remembering that they were once trying to kill him whilst he was sleeping.

Diego took out his flyssa, approaching the man who attempted to defend themselves with the last vestiges of life they had left, kicking at the young man relentlessly.

Diego grabbed their legs, throwing himself forward, mounting them. Their hands flailed helplessly, hitting Diego in the chest or face. The young man batted away the man's hands in a desperate fervor before slipping the weapon into their neck.

Diego swallowed, observing his surroundings for a moment before pulling himself back up to his feet.

"If I remember--" Diego whipped his head around at the voice. Aspasia appeared behind the corner, lamp in hand. A young man with black hair tied in a bun followed her. "There you are." She looked at the corpse lying out before Diego. "Looks like I was late." She sighed. "Get your things, you're coming with me."

Diego blinked. "W-What?"

"I said, get your things. We're getting you out of this inn."

Diego huffed, following behind as they quickly re-entered the inn. People looked at the commotion in worry, some about to break into a panic. Diego rushed up the stairs, running into his room to grab his things.

Aspasia looked to the crowd that had been collecting in the inn, holding a hand up to catch their attention. "Do not worry, we've only dispatched some bandits who believed it to be a good idea to try and rob a soldier of the Haflastus Military. You can all return to your rooms with peace of mind."

Diego rushed back down the stairs, backpack thrown over his shoulder.

The party absconded from the inn, and eventually, Diego was dragged to a massive mansion off the Naiad Coast, the building only sitting about an hour's walk away from the inn.

Diego stopped some ways out from the gate, astounded by the sight.

Aspasia noticed, stopping in turn. "What?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"You're an asset." She turned back around, limping her way inside the mansion as quickly as she could.

Diego found that to be a sufficient answer.