Chương 73: CHAPTER 72 – Deep In Hatred

"Lance Klint… What a pitiful creature you are." The blood had long since abandoned the boy's cheeks, leaving them pale and lifeless. The gleam in his eyes was something closer to the skin of a jaundice sufferer than to the previous gold. Lance's fingers trembled, trying to clutch and squeeze the tentacle coiled around his neck. Weakly, he bit into that slimy mass of shadows, panting through clenched teeth.

"You are so torn between your forms that your essence has completely shattered. You are driven by a hatred so rooted in your soul it makes the skin crawl, but it isn't yours. It belongs to someone else. Your very existence is so anomalous as to be useless." Tears slid down Angel's face, slow, causing him to tilt his young, pallid face.

"Who are you… To speak like that… Who are you… To think you know me…" His drool slid down the tentacle, mixed with blood and a purplish fluid, dense and slightly luminous. His sighs were laboured, and at times they remained trapped in his lungs, making him cough.

"Nobody, but a miserable individual bored by this world and by life. When you live only because you breathe, you start to understand people and the perpetual sadness that surrounds them." Angel reached the arm into the shadows, slowly extracting a series of sheets, bound by a double, dark string.

"This is yours, isn't it? I read it, but I wasn't able to place you even once in these pages." Lance's eyes flooded with blood, and his arms immediately began to thrash.

"GIVE IT TO ME!" The black fibres composing the tendril began to tear slowly, but just as swiftly, others took their place, rendering all his effort useless. Angel watched him in silence, washing the excess water from his dark eyes.

"There's nothing for you here… The real dossier was never forwarded by your members to the Institute. Someone deliberately kept it hidden, and the why is even more mysterious than the how." Lance's frenzy stopped completely, leaving him confused and frozen with his mouth open. His eyes narrowed, unable to process.

"This is proof that you are just a pawn, no different from what I am. You follow orders just as I follow orders. We have nothing that doesn't make us akin to a tool." Between his fingers, a silvery glint flashed, followed by a brief flame, incapable of brightening the darkness.

"No, wait… Please…" That tiny flame drew closer and closer to the white edge of the paper, caressing it with its sparks. Angel did not move his gaze from his finger, bringing the dossier ever nearer.

"STOP!!" His screams did not reach him, and after an eternity trapped in that darkness, his eyes managed to satisfy themselves with that flame, so bright and lively. The remains of the papers finished their metamorphosis into ash directly in the air, rewrapping the room in darkness. Lance lowered his head, with an empty expression and his lips parted.

"I'm just following orders, but I didn't expect that destroying this evidence would leave you like this. Did you really need it that much?" Angel let the lighter slip into the shadows. The silver was slowly devoured by the darkness, leaving them once again trapped in that vain obscurity.

"What orders… Why does everything have to go wrong… Why?" Angel tried to understand if he was trying to have a conversation, perhaps to express hatred, but none of that emerged from those empty, lifeless words.

"I'll explain to you what we're doing here and why we need you, if that consoles you. After all, nothing forbids me from talking to you or revealing part of the plans this time." Lance's neck flexed slightly, trying to frame his face.

"The attack was planned to retrieve Grayson Dirac for ourselves. However, our client decided to abandon the original plan to recover something inside the foundations of this separate space. I'm sure you have many questions, but I am strictly forbidden from speaking about the latter." Lance finally managed to frame his eyes, swallowing blood with difficulty.

"Why are you killing, then? The director, Winoc, all the people now burning… Why?" Angel rested his head on his shoulder, looking at him with a lifeless, tear-stained air.

"They were in the way of our plans, just as we are in the way of yours. Did you believe the conflict could be stopped by talking it out? That's a naivety only those with power or heart can believe. This is a bloodbath, nothing more." The shadows stirred for a moment, rippling across the floor and binding themselves to the boy's ankles. For an instant, it almost seemed as if Angel's eyes had lit up, but by then, many things for him were only impressions.

"When Changeant found me, I was just a human wreck, devoid of guidance or objectives. I was brought here by my blind faith in the orders given to me. Living is too frightening and sad. The yoke of control soothes the suffering of freedom." Suddenly, a warmth passed through the boy's flesh, bringing lucidity back to his head.

"Do you enjoy following orders? Don't you have a will of your own?!" Despite the pain in his chest and abdomen, Lance still managed to snarl those words with force.

"No, it's useless to have one. Following orders and doing what I'm told is safer and simpler." Lance's lips moved to form an expression of complete disgust, clouding his tongue with a taste far worse than that of burnt flesh.

"I separated you simply because I was asked to. I kept you here to keep you from interfering with Mr Malcom. You are a fundamental piece for the world our client is trying to build, and we cannot allow you to be hurt or to stray. Your blood is necessary…" It was only then that Lance realised all his wounds had been slowly plugged by the shadows, as if they were a kind of gauze.

"And the rest of NOIR? Don't tell me you're reserving the same treatment for them?" Angel stared at him for a few seconds, then raised his face to the boundless darkness above him with a faint sigh.

"By now, Malcom and the others will have already found them. Perhaps the only one who'll be saved is that girl, but she certainly won't receive the delicacy with which I've been ordered to treat you." Faced with that so lifeless face, long stripped of all regard and personal pride, Lance's blood exploded, rushing into his hands and gushing from his wounds.

"WHAT DO YOU FIND SATISFYING ABOUT THIS?! YOU'RE A MISERABLE SLAVE WHO HAS LOST EVERY TRACE OF HUMANITY!" His drool and blood slid slowly down Angel's face, gathering on his pointed chin. He remained still for a second before cleaning himself with his wrist and whispering something.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. However… it's an excellent way to keep my hands busy." It was there that something began to boil in the boy's mind, a feeling different from anger. A melody of shattered glass and crackling took shape in his eardrums. Slowly his sight grew darker than the shadows surrounding him, and the distant dripping of water accompanied the slow flight of Angel's figure. The dark tendril had remained, yet of the room, not a trace.

He was trapped in an expanse of dark water, which not even the unsettling pale moon could illuminate. Only the quivering dance of reflections could give him relief in that darkness, while an impulse kept pressing from inside his chest, yearning to erupt outward.

"Finally, you've begun to yield… Your poor psyche, I mean. I was just wondering when I'd get to savour a bit of your emotions." In the half-light, the water began to move, generating small ripples at times. The voice halted along with the waves, and a black veil slipped away from the darkness that had birthed it. Shortly after, a tall, dim, black figure glided over the veil of water.

Its face was obscured by that veil that Lance had long since learned to hate, and as soon as he managed to focus on it, his senses were invaded by that metallic scent of fire and blood.

"Eve…" The figure drew near in silence, without displacing the docile water's surface by a single millimetre. In an instant, Lance found himself staring at her veil, while her hand delicately turned his head toward her.

"What are you worried about now? They're using you, they're keeping you prisoner… Free yourself." The cold on his cheek moved toward his hand, slowly drawn toward the curves of her chest. She slightly moved aside her dress, revealing the icy, white-as-snow skin, yet that was not the detail that made Lance panic.

"You can't feel it, can you? My heart has been still for years now. That's why I crave yours." Almost suddenly, Lance's hand began to sink into her body, dragging his frame. Almost immediately, his strength returned to him, and he tried in every way to tear himself from his fate. Lance turned his head slightly, staring at the dark, perpetually seething mass on his arm.

"Still thirsty? This time I'll make sure to provide you with a great banquet, my dear tool." Eve's voice became gentle, if only for a miserable instant.

"Don't resist, devour everything. Every single thing… Dismember it all." So great was the force that his arm started to bleed, yet it kept being dragged inside her chest.

"Dissolve into rage… Become the fuel for my hatred and burn everything, my Vessel." He stopped his futile resistance, letting himself go, deeper and deeper into that void, cradled by that malicious, ethereal laugh. Lance sank into the darkness inside that entity, sliding into the depths. A wave of fire enveloped his heart, surging through his veins like condensed fury.

"Can we play? Jude is tired, and Mum too…" It was the first voice to break the silence. It echoed in his skull incessantly, while other sounds seemed to form directly in his mind.

"Big sister, Damian is with Mum, would you mind helping me with the laundry?" It was the second voice to batter his hearing. The weight of those memories, at least. That was the only way he could define them. After all, it's difficult to call something a "memory" when you don't even know if it's yours.

"I love you…" The third voice erupted straight from the underworld, igniting something deep within his being.

"It's cold, but it doesn't hurt. I'm hot, but I'm comforted. The problem is this thirst, which won't go away. I really need to drink. And who were those voices? It doesn't matter, I just want to drink now." His ideas began to migrate, travelling along the channels of his instincts up to his lips, moistening his dry maw with drool. A little laugh escaped his throat, dictating the trembling of his bloodied fingers.

It was only then that he reopened his eyes, finding himself wrapped in the faint darkness of the offices, trapped observing Angel's lifeless, pallid face.

"You lost consciousness for a few minutes… I think I should help you." Angel moved closer to examine the wounds, but something stopped him. His spine had stiffened, and immediately an imaginary weight collapsed onto his shoulders. He jumped backward, distancing himself as much as possible from that smiling face. Lance had not moved, but the contours of his figure had become evanescent, as if he were slowly turning to smoke. The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"You're right…" Lachesi began to coil around his forearm, binding itself as if it were a moult. Most of the mass slipped between his fingers, solidifying into a jagged, long mass, entirely similar to a firearm. The barrel was a block of black, jagged iron, while the grip was slightly curved toward his wrist, without losing its square traces.

"All these deaths… Right now I shouldn't care about anything. I should think about my own needs right now." The tentacle crumbled, letting the boy slide to the ground. The name on Lachesi began to rearrange itself, merging with other letters, but this could only have been a trick of the darkness to Angel's eyes. What was certain, however, was that Lance Klint now glowed with a dull yellow, coming from his eyes.

With a smile, he looked over his shoulders, noticing the sharp metal of his rescue device embedding itself in his flesh. Lance swiftly tore it off, then hurled it against the wall with such force that it ignited." Something's not right here… My shadows aren't responding." Angel took another step back, petrified as soon as he saw those golden pupils cross with his own.

"Oh, Angel… You were right, now I just want to let loose a bit. Take off these masks and these tribulations and…" Everything fell victim to silence, as Lance appeared right in front of him, gripping his cheeks with such force that he bled. His pupils began to contract just to adapt to the glow of that monster's eyes,"… Kill …" Dozens of soft shadow-darts sprouted from beneath their feet, shattering against the boy's abdomen. Angel shot backward, cushioning the landing with the quivering slime."

That must be the Relic mentioned by Mr. Malcom… Lachesi." Angel's attention poured entirely onto the weapon gripped in the young man's hands, now slightly more melted and shapeless. He looked around, slowly withdrawing the shadows from the windows, finally uncovering a sliver of the false moonlight. Lance stared at him sharply, bursting into laughter, perhaps directed at his attempt to flee. Guided by that laughter, he tore the lances off himself, smiling and suddenly raising his fist.

Lachesi condensed between the boy's knuckles, transforming into a subspecies of sharp, dark, vibrating armour. Angel had the reflex to throw himself backward, as the laughter shattered and an electric hiss sliced through the air. Angel's body was hurled into the air, blurred by dust. His eyes, for the first time, swelled with emotion, facing that column of smoke and debris, then closing just as the impact hit the ground.

The entire tower seemed to explode from within, swelling for an instant and then erupting into a rain of dense concrete slabs and molten iron. The ground fractured under the weight of the impact, collapsing into a chasm. The nearby hedges were swept away, and even the distant columns of smoke bent like trees.

"What is that thing?" Angel murmured, stuck with his back on the roof of the secondary office. The few shadows left to him had shielded him from the impact, slowly pushing him upward until his legs could support him. He looked around, as the grey rain continued to fall ceaselessly. On the roof, besides the debris, a few dark metal crates remained, very likely for armaments.

"I can't hold him. I'd better follow the directives and leave…" Angel turned toward the moon, slowly making his way to the ledge. A new laugh rose from the earthen haze, followed by a violent jolt that made the entire office tremble. Angel spun around, only to find his arm torn off and hurled away into oblivion.

"Satisfy…" Angel threw himself aside, gathering all the darkness of the night around his stump. The glow appeared before him again, and this time it grabbed his leg. In a single movement of the wrist, everything composing his flesh from the knee down was torn away. It was then that he lost his balance, noticing that his shadows could no longer hold him.

"Thirst…" His jaw was clamped in Lance's grip, who now hovered together with him in the air. The ground vanished from beneath their feet, as the wind began to wrap them in its force. Angel felt nothing, save the blood gushing from his mouth and then the sound of shattering glass. He slammed his back forcefully against the glass, fracturing it, but not enough to make him plummet into the building. In the moonlight, a shadow foreign to that world was bathing itself, before everything went black again.

Lance crashed onto him, grabbing him by the throat and hurling him backwards, with such violence that the rest of the windows collapsed. His grip tightened immediately, as he let himself fall parallel to the building. The wind again began to flow between their fingers, before the boy's laughter completely blurred its hissing. Angel was crushed against the glass, flattening a long road of shards and frames.

Lance pressed his legs against the surface, dragging his victim with even greater speed, stuck with his face wrapped in a mixture of slime and blood. Their reflections formed among the fragments wetted by light, distorting at the passage of the blanket of debris. Lance kept laughing, launching Angel in his mad race. He saw the ground growing ever clearer, deciding to hurl himself forward with a smile and grab the human projectile by the leg.

With an ever more piercing laugh, the boy lifted him, anchoring himself to the wall. Angel was catapulted into the lower floors of the building, enveloped in an explosion of wreckage and debris of every kind and shape. His body completely smashed through the chairs and tables, finding himself stretched out and with a single eye able to focus on the cables and lights hanging from the ceiling. His skin had been replaced by a dark slime, as had the rest of his innards.

"They didn't tell me… I'd be watching a demon." Angel murmured, staring at the shadow with yellow eyes slowly sliding into the room. A single ray of moonlight illuminated his face, revealing the sharp canines and the cruel grin. Lance's skin was paler, almost completely white were it not for the dark, revolting veins where Lachesi had taken root.

"I feel really good, you know?" He murmured, kicking the chairs from his path. Lance stopped to stare at Angel's mutilated body, then lingered on the face stuck in a bored, empty expression.

"It's annoying to admit I've failed…" He whispered, as the shadows wrapped the remains of his flesh. Lance smiled, shooting a single dart of pure Frequency at the ceiling, causing his cocoon to fall to the ground. Angel managed to stand before pointing with his mutilated hand at something at his feet, still trapped in the darkness. Beep Beep Beep The incessant beeping triggered the boy's curiosity, forcing him to focus on those strange silver casings, glittering with a sinister red glow.

Lance picked one up in his hands, noting with displeasure that Angel had vanished. A flash enveloped the room, followed by a blaze so terrible it swallowed the entire building and caused its collapse. The carbonised structure slid over its own skeleton, releasing a rain of sparks and flames. A crater and incandescent rubble kept company with the remains of the vegetation swept away by the disaster. Smoke and flickers rose from the mound of rock, while stones and glass slid with an annoying succession of noises.

Suddenly a hand burst out, hurling aside any obstacle.

"Weapons have no will, no desires… But what would happen if a soldier became the weapon?" Lance emerged, his clothes reduced to burnt, consumed rags. The scars had become terribly more pronounced and had begun to pulse with a light mix of black and violet. He looked around, carefully observing the great tower. There, threads of energy danced continuously, mixing from the depths of the earth up to almost the tip.

"Malcom… David… Lucas… Dirac… I think I'm going to have fun tonight." With a smile, Lance jumped down from the little hill, finding his path barred by those humanoid machines he had seen several times alongside Malcom. The few parts of flesh, belonging to some Helspawn, spasmed at his sight. The rifle barrels were pointed at him, directly at his face. Instead of exploding bullets, there was a clinking sound, and all the automatons fell to the ground, bereft of their heads.

One of them rolled to the boy's feet, and with brutal elegance he crushed it underfoot. The remains of their crystals began to flow into his body, like a mist." Feed on them, devour their flesh… The taste of rage is sweet, isn't it?" That same mist gathered at his shoulders, tearing through the air until it birthed a silhouette veiled in a purplish slime. Only the red, almost black lips jutted out from that burnt veil.

"It's not the real one… But I'll make do." He said, addressing the moon shining in the sky, then immediately turning to the boy, busy trampling the sticky remains of his victims.

"Quench your thirst on their blood, tear everything apart just as they tore us apart. Let me return to life for Jude and Damian…" The shadow laughed, vanishing into the air, leaving Lance locked in a march toward the tower entrance. Once he passed the rubble, the pools of blood, and the heaps of shell casings, he reached the door, blocked by a couple of bodies in red suits. His smile cracked. Lance knelt before one of them and pulled off the helmet.

The dark hair gathered in a braid and the docile, lively face forced Lance to turn his head for a moment. Without thinking, he placed a hand on her forehead, closing her greenish eyes. That done, he stared at the door, striking it with enough force to open a gash between the already battered doors. Once vanished into the shadow, only the noise of fire and bullets echoed through the night, then suddenly stopped. The eyes of that lifeless body snapped open, then closed again.

It slid, stretched out on the ground, its throat animated by unsettling spasms. Suddenly it stopped for a few moments, devoid of any unnatural connotation, and abruptly a hand burst from its mouth. A limb wrapped in a very dark veil, scattered with crystalline scales, but with skin of such whiteness as to make snow envious.

"Oh Albedo… Bring the Queen of the End back to this earth, nourish her and then allow me to drink your blood and eat your flesh." The body had been completely stripped of flesh, and now a towering silhouette of darkness and crystals, with eyes open and vigilant on every cranny of its body, loomed before the entrance kissed by the light of the night. It stretched its hands toward the moon, almost as if in prayer, opening them in a hideous, unnatural embrace; so mechanical was the movement.

Its thousand eyes gazed in the world devoid of time.

"Jude will be for me… The meal for her great rebirth." With those words, everything resumed flowing, and the figure vanished completely, returning the corpse to its place. In the depths, near the lower research cells, a ferocious melody resounded among the gargantuan steel pipes.

"I've never liked you! I knew it from the first time I saw you!" Maica exclaimed, erecting a series of distorted columns of iron and rock, reduced to dust in less than a few moments by a shrill whistle.

"You should have tried harder that time, then! Don't get angry if you lost badly…" The wall beside her trembled, exploding and revealing a figure in a long white fur coat. Maica was grabbed by the neck and thrown onto the platform just above the tank. She recovered rather quickly, distorting the ground to launch herself into the air. The ground exploded, revealing Lautre, balanced on a single leg atop his small tuning fork.

"ROMAN!" Lautre turned, crushing the air with numerous vibrations and flinging away the darts of greenish tendrils. His smile widened, satisfied at the sight of the bearded man, in a greyish, ruined suit.

"You must be Lautre Clerc? Do you mind if we take your life?" Roman asked, stomping his foot on the ground and raising a series of twisted limbs of slime, sublimated into a thin rapier.

"I'd like to… But it's been too long since I stopped at a bar in the city!" Lautre threw off his fur, revealing the dark tank top and the equipment strapped to his back, slightly different from that of his companions. It was darker in colour and also more compact, as if it were fixed only to his spine, and it also had two holes where it connected to the shoulder.

"Shame… I'd have appreciated something less grotesque, at least for today." Roman smiled, waiting for Maica to reach his back, perching herself on a distorted, gloomy structure that had once been a pipe.