I'm honestly afraid that after this chapter, you guys are going to form a cult and kill me...
This is long, but please read carefully! thanks! :)
XLIX: The monster
As soon as I issue the order, the specters chatter joyfully, wasting no time in dispersing into the streets, looking for new victims. When I look back down at the ground, I see that Jungkook and Jimin are already gone. No matter. The specters would find them soon enough.
Alighting on the ground, I take in the still carnage and buildings half on fire. As I walk through the streets, I see that they are littered with the bodies of Shadow Valley soldiers, civilians, even children. Even though specters disintegrate after death, it is clear that vampires do not. I want to feel something for these lost souls. Some twinge of guilt, of shame. Regret for my actions.
I feel nothing.
That brief, fleeting feeling I felt when I saw Jimin's heartbroken form is gone.
I kneel next to a mutilated child, still holding onto a small wood carving in his hand. His face is contorted into a scream, and his leg is badly burnt. I inspect the carvings. Did his father make it for him? His mother? Was someone with him when he died? Did they die with him? So many questions, that I'll never get the answers to. Because I do not know this child. Because he is only one in the thousands that have died. I stand up, and keep on walking, leaving the destruction behind.
The first time he killed, Taehyung saw his enemy's face for days after he was gone. He heard his voice in his dreams, and often woke up screaming from nightmares. And then he killed again. And again. And again. Soon, he stopped seeing their faces. He stopped wondering what their names were or who they left behind. He killed because he was ordered to, and then, once free of Bloodcrest, he killed to stay alive.
He stopped caring.
And that is who I was. The only difference between Taehyung and me, was that I never cared from the start.
"Still intent on your tricks?" A snarl comes from behind me. "It won't work this time." I suppress a sigh as I turn around, staring into the ever-disapproving face of Alastair Kim.
"The same to you, Grandfather." I give a small half bow, and Alastair's scowl deepens. He knows I'm not doing it just out of respect. Before I stand upright again, he sends a throwing knife whizzing in my direction, which I easily counter. Even though Alastair isn't a Mask, I'm sure he would have made an excellent one.
Alastair grasps his scim from the folds of his tunic twirling it over his head. He brings it down, but I sidestep it, bringing out my own scim and drawing a large gash on his right arm. He hisses in pain, but smartly moves out of distance before I can strike him again. We circle each other, my scim casually facing downwards, while his is twitching, weary of attacks. After about 2 minutes, he charges at me with a battle cry, his scim poised to strike.
"A little out of practice I see," I say, disarming him in one move and sending his scim skittering across the wood of the platform. I let him go and retrieve it, though he never turns his back on me.
This time, it's me who attacks, sending a swipe to his chest as he tries to bring his scim up to protect himself. All in vain. My scim finds its mark, tearing his tunic and meeting his skin. He cries out, backing away, hand on his chest to try and desperately stop the flow of blood.
"Running out of options, old man?" I laugh, and he grits his teeth. He feints to my right with his scim, but I duck, jabbing my elbow into his stomach so that he doubles over. A kick to the head sends him sprawling, and when he gets back up, there's blood bubbling out of the corner of his mouth.
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