Sealed In Darkness

10. What Is The Color Of Your Soul?

Colchis. As/A: 3084.

Milen

"I am so used to this metallic taste of blood in my mouth, so much that it has already become a cliché... quite redundant even." Milen chuckled and spat a ball of blood moulded in phlegm.

His face looked fresh, as though he had not just feigned weakness, and intentionally received countless kicks and punches. Although he had occasionally landed a few of his own, but from a side view, he looked desolate like he was at the edge of the abyss, and a small nudge would send him falling into it's deep, dark, cloudy chasm.

Of course it was faked. A bait to lure the big fish.

Suddenly a bright light flashed through his eyes, and he immediately became ferocious like a dog with a scythe at its neck. Within his slight spur, already marking his prey, he suddenly broke through the dozen men, pounced on a man with slender body and squinting eye, eyes that bore the extreme caution and meticulousness of a veteran. The man stood a few feet from the mob who had encircled Milen. He hadn't attacked, be simple watched with his hands folded behind him.

A quick jab to the throat, and another immediately followed, rushing and bombarding at his chest. Milen exerted a tiny bit of strength to attack. Quick and decisive.

The slender veteran eyes first bore shock. He'd never expected that their prey had such mountainous strength, and looking at Milen face where a sly grin glued to it, the veteran suddenly understood that they were the prey, falsely strutting like predators.

He knew that they were all being played by Milen. Immediately alarmed, he wanted to expose his findings and raise an alarm, but it was too late.

Cough!

Blood spurted from his mouth, his face suddenly grew pale, and he dropped on the floor.

"He... He's dead!" Someone stuttered as he cried.

Milen immediately killed the grin on his face, resumed the facade of a sorry state: dropping to the floor and struggling to stand. Staggering a few times, he slowly turned at the bewildered crowed, turned back ahead, and jolted off at full speed.

But all this was from a while ago, and Milen had successfully dragged out the bigger fish, and now had him ensnared.

"Do you know the word righteousness?" Milen asked, the corners of his lips slowly curled, but his gaze shot at the quivering man caught between a stone wall and himself, showed his viciousness: a cold deadening look that felt like billions of ice cold razor, slicing through his skin. This made the man almost wet himself.

"I'm not entirely sure," Milen continued. "but I think it is when a person does right, right? C'mon RIGHT-eousness...that's a no brainer."
He let loose a sickening laugh.

"Please, let me go, I -" the man pleaded, and pushed himself deeper into the wall, wishing he could be absorbed by them and appear at the other end.

This man's wish was simply a pipe dream. Where they stood was a narrow alley: a slim path between two tall building, enjoined by the equally heightened stone wall his back was pressed against.

"Do you know what righteousness and I have in common?"

Milen asked again.

The man whose galloping heart would have easily overshadowed whatever sound he would have made, with fear of further angering the enemy before him, he was better off staying mute.

Why did he let greed land him in this precarious situation. The person he had tailed, in order to threaten at gun point for all his money and belonging, although initially looked weaker than himself upon trading fists with some of his lackeys before "running" for his life, turned out to be something that should never be touched: a demon whose eyes were dead to all forms of empathy.