Alasla: The New Age

Chapter Eighteen- The Ice Prince

Ralph had been fighting for the past twenty minutes.

When he entered the city, it was unexpectedly well-prepared. He wouldn't have fought like he did if it was not for the news that the Government did a round-check in all Five Regions, including Ling, for harpies like Caprison. He was declared dead when he fought the officers who came to take him.

What's wrong with this world? Why do they have to be dead? What did he ever do? How do a few feathers and talons set apart one life from another in such a way so?

His every breath smelt like blood now. He's pretty much sure his skull was broken and blood is streaming from the wound. He was shot by three bullets, luckily not in any fatal areas, and his Stone is slowly healing them. Way slower than Kanitha does, though.

But it still hurt. A lot.

He staggered to get on to his feet, the crowd backed away automatically. It's no different from the same night Forrest died. Surrounded by speculators, fought down to his last breath, life ended with a bullet through the head.

Except he won't. He can't. He's yet got promises to accomplish. He will do whatever it takes to smash this world into smithereens then let it re-build above its own ruins.

Hundreds of dead, disease-covered bodies surrounded their battlefield, veiling the area behind a green, ill fog. He silently apologizes to Kanitha, but he cannot keep their promise anymore. He knew that he was out of his mind. Forrest's death. Caprison's death. Losing Kanitha. Too much happened within three months. Too much than he can take.

He panted and spat out a mouthful of blood. He didn't have enough energy left to use his stone's power anymore, and the survivors of the battlefield also had Cauchards to defend against him. Although none of them was at Midnight level, some of them were close enough.

He knew he'd been losing too much blood. He had to end this fight quickly before he died of blood loss first. That would be a shame.

Keeping that in mind, he roared with tears of fury, smashing his fists down towards the ground, he activated his power one last time. A wave of emerald flame washed over the surrounding crowd, where ever it touches, skin blackened, blood flooded out, limbs crippled, and people died.

Bullets were fired at him in panic. He can't think straight. His mind is growing dizzy along with the heavy, blood-scented air. He dodged the bullets sub-consciously, then randomly lunged toward a person who carries a rifle. He screamed in fear and fired a few more times, but none managed to wound Ralph.

He landed on his opponent and picks up a random piece of rubble beside him. Without a second thought, he drove it down towards the person's frightened face.

"I'd rather you not."

Ralph's eyes widened. The voice cleared up the clouds clogging his mind a little. His arm with the rubble was tightly gripped by a powerful hand from behind.

A familiar voice.

He slowly turned his head around, it did not surprise him as Jerron's face loomed into view.

"Why not?" Ralph rasped. "Forrest is dead. Caprison is dead. Why should they live?" He hollered, forcing his arm out of Jerron's grip. He skidded backward to pull a distance between them. The man he was about to kill quickly clambered back into the crowd, craving its protection. But Ralph had no mind for him now.

Jerron looks the exact same as he did months ago. Except for a few more tired, aged lines across his face here and there. He stood in Ralph's mess, silently puffing on his cigarette.

"What would you like?" Jerron asks, almost as casually as if they're in a cafe.

"Isn't that obvious?" Ralph leered. "I want them dead!" He waves his hand at the people surrounding them, who had started to back off even more. "I want the Government gone! I want you dead!" He screamed.

"Unfortunately, your first two requests I can do nothing about. These are my people, and I have the authority to protect them. The Government I simply have no manners of wiping out. But luckily, your last wish shall be granted."

Speaking, he pulls out a sheathed sword. Ralph immediately recognizes it. It used to be so close to him during missions, it had been jumping across the line between life and death with him multiple times, it had been splattered with the blood of thousands.

It was his sword, Rain.

Jerron tosses it into his hands. Ralph looked up to him in doubt as his hands clasped over the sheath and hilt, feeling its familiar shape beneath his fingers.

"Kill me, if you like," Jerron shrugs.

Ralph stood frozen in silence. Is he for real?

But he doesn't really care. Real or not, he'll know when he tries.

Unsheathing the sword, he swung it between his fingers, then plunged it towards Jerron's chest while a thousand ways how Jerron might defend flashed through his mind. Every single stripe of his muscle was prepared when he stepped into Jerron's attack zone, getting ready for any form of attack that may come along.

Except it didn't. Except no defense came as his sword sank deep into his chest, then out from his back.

Ralph inhaled sharply. Years of experience had made him stand still, not shifting the sword another millimeter to prevent unnecessary damage.

"Why?" He whispered after a pause of absolute silence. "Why are you doing this?"

"I am no different from you, in the end," Jerron replied smoothly. "A larger, stronger, more official pawn of the Governments'. The lives of people like us are worth nothing. If you wish me dead, then here I am."

He took a step back, pulling the sword out of his body, letting the blood gush out from his wound.

"Nonsenses," a cold voice breathed in. A layer of icy frost spread itself over Jerron's chest, freezing the blood and veins solid.

"Ah," Jerron smiled frostily towards the crowd. "So you're here."

As the crowd slowly backs away, Ralph also sees the newcomer. Silvery blond hair, a large, heavy scarf covering half of his face, wearing thick, mismatching clothes.

But such silver hair and pale blue eyes could not be seen anywhere else other than one place. Even Ralph, who's never been to Garavia, cannot mistake this.

"Paulie Velinzhag," Jerron greeted. "What can Ling do for the Ice Prince?"