Bladed Soul: Ascend To Necrosberg

XIII - The Seven

He's too fast!

The guy in golden armor suddenly appears before me. With his fanged sword in the air, I raise my frost blade in defense. I know the ice would break but what choice do I have?

Here it comes!

Time appears to be slowing down as his great sword lashed. I could feel the force of the blow slicing through the air. I could feel the tingle of collision as my blade shatters. The power of impact as it crawls along my wrists. I could feel the throbbing of my heart with shock. Is this the end of the line for me?

The next thing I hear is Serrah's sharp scream piercing through the air. Then, an unbearable pain shoots across my chest, followed by a fountain of red which clouds my vision. My consciousness drifts away. I could hardly see the guy's face but his laughter rings clearer than any sound else.

I lost. I lost to an unknown stranger.

I can't move my body but I can lucidly feel the pain. I fall down on one knee, catching the balance with my hands on the ground. A cough seizes my breath, making me I spit. Holy scite. The crimson fluid stains the sands. Blood. I'm surprised that it tastes bitter and sour.

My vision keeps shifting from blurry to cloudy as I try to stay awake. Air is getting scarce, as if my life depends on every breath. I don't have the strength to look up but the guy's golden greaves shines brightly, reflecting the sunlight that hits them.

Surprisingly, I'm not scared. True, I'm in pain but there's no fear residing within me at all. In fact, I'm disappointed. In the end, I wouldn't be able to avenge Mergrande. I'm not even close to licking Lazaddon's feet.

"Arthus!" The soft touch of Serrah's hand caresses my face. "Oh my gods. Your wound..." She's obviously panicking.

"Heh! So this is the infamous Merlin scumbag who managed to trick Lazaddon?" Smirking, the guy stomps his sword, burying its tip in the ground. "Tough luck. I was expecting somebody who's more troublesome. I don't understand why it needs the seven of us to get this guy."

"Orders are absolute, Dragor. Don't you dare overdo it. He's still our mission." His short friend warns. I couldn't really make out who these people are thanks to their hoods and cloaks.

Mission? Are they here to assassinate me?

"Eh? How could I overdo things when he's no fun at all?"

Another guy with a bow and sword strapped to his back laughs. "Oh yeah? Don't unleash all your frustrations on the poor kid, mate."

"Shut yer trap, Harleigh. I'll kill you next."

"Just quit fooling around, you chimp. They won't be happy if you bring back a corpse." A feminine figure sighs, drumming her fingers on the staff she's holding.

"How could this wimp be worthy when he can't even handle a small cut?" Dragor mocks, spitting at the ground in front of me.

"Excuse me," a small voice belonging to a young girl butts in. Cradled in her arms is a worn pink doll. "Should I heal him? He seems to be in pain."

"Forget about it, Amor. Do it and I'll chop you too."

"Okay. Sorry."

One of them is just standing on the corner, observing the ruckus. Like the others, he's well-concealed but his arms and legs are wrapped with dirty bandages. Why do I feel something dark emanating from this mysterious man?

Serrah is shaking now. I could hear her rough breathing. Her hands are balled into trembling fists. 'Serrah, don't.' I whisper but my words fall into deaf ears.