His eyes snapped open and he jumped up from his seat, his drink being knocked over in the process. He ignored the clanking as the can of juice emptied over his newly polished floors and rushed towards the door. Pulling on a coat, he hurried down his twelve-story apartment building, spamming the elevator button in the process, and back onto the streets all in one breath. The crowd that had gathered around the block closer to the south told him that that was where the gunshot happened. He quickly located a shortcut hidden in the creaks between a library and a restaurant, then dived into it without a second thought.
Feeling his heartbeat thumping through his body as well as the churning pain in his abdomen from leaping through the tightly packed track, he felt cold splatters of raindrops pattering onto his head. His grip tightened around the gun he carries in his pocket as the streak of light indicating the end of the shortcut grows brighter, preparing for whatever was going to come ahead.
He jumped one last time and skidded out onto the rainy city outside, splashing up a ring of rainwater across the puddled street as he looked up just in time to witness what was ahead.
In the center of the crowd, illuminated by the lights from the cars that were stopped on the side of the road by the commotion, stood Jerron and Forrest. The people around muttered to one another, explaining what was going on. Jerron held a dark, glistening automatic in his hand, smoke still lingering around its nozzle that's being pointed at Forrest, his luggage tipped to one side, and he himself kneeling on the ground. The rain washed the blood down the road, but that didn't stop more from leaking out between his shivering fingers clutched tightly over his shoulder, where the bullet had hit.
His dark, glimmering eyes met Ralph's through the sea of people. Then his expression tightened as he screamed his name.
Ralph was frozen to the spot. Every eye on the street turned to him. The people who were standing next to him that had neither noticed nor recognized him before are now backing away at the speed of light, clearing out a path that he doesn't plan on using because Forrest is charging straight at him.
"Run with it!" Was the last thing he managed to say. At the same time he threw a shimmering item towards Ralph, another gunshot rang through the air.
The item, which turns out to be a curious-looking shard of emerald, landed in Ralph's palm right after Jerron's bullet sliced through the air and sank itself into Forrest's skull. A sickening amount of blood bursts out from his head as he thudded down onto the pavement beneath. The people around his lifeless body backed away with gasps of fear, shifting their frightened glances onto Ralph and Jerron instead.
Ralph's mind went blank for one good minute as he continued to stare at his best friend that was just alive and running a second ago. Now he's as still as ever, with his eyes rolled back, blood coming out from both his head and his half-opened mouth.
The rain smashed down so hard that it was flooding into Ralph's eyes, waking him up from his daze. The sharp edges of the stone he holds in his hand slowly pierced his skin as he tightened his grip around it. Jerron was facing him coldly, his expression veiled by the downpour. Fear and anger thudded through Ralph along with an unfamiliar emptiness. Logically, he knew he should run with what he was holding like Forrest instructed him to. But his heart is telling him to charge at Jerron no matter what and get a bullet through his head the same way he did to Forrest.
He can't, though. He can't do that to Jerron, who had been like a father to him for his whole life.
He pulled out his gun but dropped it onto the road with a loud clank. Instead, he slipped the stone into his pocket, tightened his fists, and ran towards Jerron.
He saw him smiling. He has thirty seconds. From watching past duels and battles fought by Jerron, he's figured out a pattern. If Jerron's opponent failed to defeat him in thirty seconds, Jerron would deal a fatal blow that will actually kill.
Twenty seconds...
Ralph's strikes were swift and fast, but Jerron dodged them with no pressure.
Fifteen seconds...
Ralph pulled out his pocket knife and waved it at Jerron, but he caught his wrist in his grip. Ralph swept his leg at his head, but as Jerron tightened his clutch, the sound of Ralph's wrist bone cracking filled the air along with his scream.
Five seconds...
He can't do it. He tried thrusting his elbow into Jerron to at least deal some damage, but he blocked it with a mere slap.
Time's up.
Finally, Ralph felt a hand slamming onto the back of his neck, knocking him onto the freezing, wet street. He felt his consciousness draining, he was partially surprised that Jerron didn't kill him after all, but also somewhat disappointed in his own actions. He looked around and again saw Forrest, not so far from him, motionless and dead.
"I'm sorry," Jerron whispered behind him just as everything had started to black out. "It's not me who's killed him."
Blood. A splatter across the street was washed away by rain the next second. The rain washed away the city, the people, and the blurs of flashlights that shimmered in the dark. But Jerron's voice remained.
"It's the world."
Feeling his warm teardrops swirling in his eyes, he closed them, and his consciousness slipped away.
YOU ARE READING
Alasla: The New Age
Fantasy"What killed him isn't me. It's the world." Ralph had never asked for much. Not even his own identity. But when his best and only friend got murdered by the man he calls father, he was forced to set off on an expedition to unravel the truth of this...
