Several disappearances and unexplained events have been registered shorty after the commercialization of an ancient statue linked to some legends from a mysterious place called "Reich der Finsternis" in eastern Germany, there is no know route leadin...
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The Holzmann Diaries, Part 1: Anneliese's Defeat
The grounds surrounding the asylum were far more expansive than Liz had anticipated. Extravagant flowers flourished all around the hospital maintained by Amelie's order, their vivid colors painting an ironic contrast against the bleakness that had engulfed their journey. At times, butterflies fluttered among the blooms, adding a fleeting touch of life to the air. While the floral scent no longer felt overpowering, it still failed to seem inviting. After trudging through forests suffocated by an abominable mist and battling to survive, arriving in this seemingly serene place felt almost surreal.
Tobias walked alongside her, guiding her past several quaint stone-and-wood buildings, their tiled roofs so low they nearly touched the ground. Balconies lined with vibrant floral arrangements and assorted pots adorned the structures, adding a rustic charm. Before they could ask after the officer they were seeking, a commotion from another part of the compound pulled their attention.
As they approached the source, Liz braced herself for what they might find. Sure enough, the scene was as grim as she'd expected.
Nick stood amidst a cluster of refugees, many of whom still bore the gaunt, weary traces of illness. His gun was leveled at one of them, his stance unwavering. Liz's gaze landed on the man he was threatening, and recognition struck her like a blow. Mark Warren—his face hardened by hatred and defiance—stood before them. She had seen his picture in Commander Williams's briefing: the mercenary leader whose reckless actions had incited the Holzmanns' wrath. The man responsible for Nick's father's death.
"I still don't understand how you have the nerve to wear that uniform, you son of a bitch!" Warren spat, his voice seething with venom.
Nick didn't flinch. His expression remained as cold and unyielding as stone. "A maggot like you has no right to lecture me about anything," he replied, turning his back on him with calculated indifference. "You should be grateful to those who pulled you out of that hellhole. Although, had I known today was supposed to be your execution, I might've suggested we delay the rescue by a day." He cast Warren a sidelong glance, crossing his arms. "Then you could've joined your father in hell."
The words hit their mark, igniting a fire of rage in Warren's eyes. He bent down, grabbed a rock, and hurled it at Nick's back. But the officer sidestepped the attack with ease, his sharp gaze narrowing as he advanced on his would-be assailant.
"What's the matter? Gonna shoot me now?" Warren taunted, throwing his hands wide in mock invitation. "Let's see how tough you are without your toys."
Nick sighed, exuding the weariness of a man who found the situation beneath him. With a deliberate motion, he removed his gun and combat knife, tossing them to the ground. Then, flexing his fingers like someone preparing for a casual exercise, he stepped closer.
Fueled by fury, Warren lunged at him with wild abandon. But Nick caught his wrists mid-swing, delivered a crushing knee to his stomach, and shoved him to the ground in one fluid motion. Warren collapsed, gasping for air, clutching his abdomen as he glared up at his opponent.
