Chapter 16.2

“Damn it all,” she spat, a bloody glob of resentment escaping her lips.

A gut-wrenching scream ripped through the silence. Odelliana whipped her head towards the sound. “Brother!”

A group of familiar faces – the very boys who’d tormented Matthias the previous night – materialized. They huddled around the lifeless body, spewing curses and howling in fury.

Odelliana, seizing the opportunity, attempted to flee. However, her battered body, already weakened, refused to cooperate. To her misfortune, the boys’ mourning for their fallen leader was short-lived.

Their eyes, burning with vengeful fury, locked onto a single target. “You bloody witch! You killed my brother! I’ll tear you apart!” The largest boy roared, snatching a hefty sword from the corpse and charging at Odelliana.

Just as the massive blade threatened to cleave her in two, a figure abruptly interposed, diverting the attack. Odelliana’s eyes widened. A broad back filled her vision, framed by ebony hair like a midnight sky. The boy, his approach silent and swift, held her attention. With a crude dagger snatched from the ground, he parried the blow of the giant sword.

In a lightning-fast counter, he disarmed the attacker and closed the distance. A ruthless thrust of the dagger found the boy’s neck, severing the carotid artery. The victim, unable to even emit a scream, crumpled lifelessly, blood erupting like a crimson geyser. Matthias, now stained crimson, stared down at the fallen boy.

Is this life any different from the previous one? The thought flickered across Odelliana’s mind, quickly dismissed. No matter the changes, the beast slumbering within human fear remained constant.

He turned slowly, wiping blood from his face with a grimace. Then, in a surprisingly gentle voice, he spoke. “I should have killed them all before this.”

The boy standing amid the carnage remained eerily composed, posture ramrod straight. It was a surreal image – a figure drenched in blood, yet exuding an air of almost priestly dignity.

“Leave the rest to me,” he said.

Odelliana felt a strange bewilderment. This cold, ruthless side of Matthias, the one mirroring the “him” she knew, clashed with the amiable demeanor he’d displayed just half a day ago. This Matthias felt like a stranger.

Slowly, Matthias turned his head, gaze fixing on a single point. “Do you want to continue?” he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

The boys, fear now a palpable presence, trembled under his calm stare. The stark difference in skill was evident, their will to fight utterly shattered. Yet, they remained frozen, neither fleeing nor engaging him.

With no answer forthcoming, Matthias did something that sent a fresh wave of horror through Odelliana. He gently, or so it seemed, placed his foot on the leader’s head and pressed down. The seemingly light pressure crushed the already lifeless face beneath it.

The remaining boys, faces drained of color, finally reacted. They turned and fled in a panicked scramble.

As the tension bled away, leaving only the echo of the ordeal, her strength deserted her. Her body, pushed to its limit, crumpled, no longer able to hold itself upright. A hand, unexpected and strong, suddenly encircled her waist, effortlessly holding her up. 

The scent of Matthias – a comforting mix of dewy grass, damp earth, and the metallic tang of blood – washed over her. Strangely, amidst the acrid war smell, his unique aroma muted the nausea. And so, Odelliana found herself cradled in the young boy’s arms amidst the bloodbath for quite some time.

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