Shallow Blood ™ Chapter 6: Crossing Into Espada Scene: The Forest of Shadows
The forest leading into Espada loomed like a living entity, its ancient trees clawing at the dim sky, their twisted branches swallowing the sunlight. A cold, damp mist clung to the ground, curling around Axel Spade's boots as he moved with cautious precision. Every step was deliberate, the distant cries of unseen creatures echoing through the dense foliage. The air carried the heavy scent of damp earth and decay, and his shallow breaths hung sharp in his chest.
Suddenly, a prickling sensation crawled across his skin. A creeping blackness spread through his veins, like molten ink snaking beneath his flesh. Axel stumbled, clutching his arms as he stared in horror at the intricate lines twisting across his skin, pulsing with a life of their own.
"Ahhhhhh!" he screamed, the sound raw and desperate, swallowed by the oppressive forest.
Pain tore through him, sharp and unrelenting, as if his body were being rewritten from within. The dark veins writhed like serpents, his vision blurring as his legs buckled. He staggered forward, desperate to escape the invisible force tormenting him, but each step only deepened the agony. The forest seemed to close in, its shadows twisting in mockery of his struggle.
Finally, his strength gave out. He collapsed face-first into the cold, damp soil, and darkness claimed him.
When he awoke—whether moments or hours later, he couldn't tell—the black veins had vanished, leaving his skin unmarred. His chest heaved as he pushed himself up, fingers trembling as they brushed against Kinslayer at his side. "What… was that?" he muttered, confusion clouding his voice.
Shaking his head, Axel forced the memory aside. There was no time to dwell. The border of Espada lay ahead, and with it, the unknown perils of Infernum. He rose, gripping his sword, and pressed forward.
Scene: The Encounter with the Thieves
The forest thinned into a desolate clearing, where the weight of Espada's oppressive atmosphere pressed down like a physical force. The sky hung muted and gray, streaked with ominous clouds, and a faint, acrid scent lingered in the air. Every rustle in the underbrush, every snap of a twig, carried an echo of danger.
From the shadows emerged three figures, their presence instantly unsettling. The thieves were rough and lean, armed and poised for trouble. Their leader, Roderick, was broad-shouldered, his sharp gaze missing nothing. Norman, wiry and agile, eyed Axel's sword with greedy interest. Shane, large and silent, watched with the coiled tension of a predator.
"Well, well… what do we have here?" Roderick said, his voice low and dangerous, a smirk curling his lips. "A lost lamb wandering into the wolves' den."
The thieves' laughter was harsh, grating, as Axel's hand tightened instinctively around Kinslayer. He stopped a few paces away, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. "I'm not here for trouble," he said, his voice calm but measured. "Just passing through."
Norman leaned forward, grinning. "Passing through, huh? With a blade like that? Maybe you should let us hold it… for safekeeping."
Axel's eyes flickered with a cold, dangerous light. "Not a chance."
Roderick raised a hand, feigning diplomacy. "Easy there. No need to get violent. Safety in numbers, eh? Join us—no harm, just company."
Axel hesitated, his instincts screaming that these men were opportunists, not allies. Espada was treacherous, and any help could be useful, but trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. He weighed his options, every muscle tense. "Fine," he said warily. "I join… but I keep my sword."
Roderick's grin widened, his teeth stark against the grime of his face. "Deal. Welcome to the pack."
Axel shook Roderick's hand, his grip firm but guarded. The thieves made room around their small fire, tossing him a crude blanket and a piece of bread. The firelight flickered across their hardened features, each face etched with stories of survival.
Shane studied Axel, his voice low with curiosity and suspicion. "So, stranger… what brings you to Espada? Not many wander into these parts without a reason."
Axel took a cautious bite of the bread, his eyes scanning the group, noting their weapons, the subtle tension in their postures, the way their glances darted to one another. "I'm on a personal quest," he said. "Passing through, nothing more. And you? What's your business here?"
Norman raised a mug, taking a swig of ale. "Survival. Espada's full of treasures… if you've got the guts to take them."
Roderick nodded, his tone approving. "Norman's right. Take what you need or get taken. That's the law of this land. We have our little operation… keeps us alive. Keeps us fed."
Axel raised an eyebrow, his lips tight. "Sounds dangerous. But I suppose… it's the way to get through another day."
Shane leaned in, his voice low and intrigued. "And what's your story? You don't carry a sword like that for show."
Axel's expression tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Let's just say I've had to use it before. And I'd rather not have to tonight."
Norman chuckled, shaking his head. "Guts alone won't keep you alive. You need to know when to fight and when to retreat."
"Exactly," Roderick said, raising his mug with a smirk. "We've survived this long by reading people, knowing when to strike, and when to step back."
Axel sipped from his waterskin, his posture relaxed but alert, Kinslayer resting against his side like a silent warning. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "But I'm not here to meddle in schemes. Just passing through."
Shane grinned. "Fair enough. But if you ever need a guide—or tips on surviving here—you know where to find us."
Roderick nodded, his tone warm but cautious. "Cooperation is useful… when it benefits everyone."
The fire crackled, casting long shadows across their faces. The thieves' laughter and stories filled the clearing, but Axel remained watchful, listening more than he spoke, every nerve attuned to the dangers of Espada.
Scene: Nightfall in Espada
As night fell, the forest around the thieves' camp grew darker, the mist thickening and curling around the trees like spectral fingers. The moon struggled to pierce the dense canopy, leaving the clearing dimly lit. Shadows danced unnaturally around the fire, stretching and twisting with a life of their own.
Axel sat a short distance from the flames, Kinslayer resting across his lap. The thieves had grown comfortable, their voices low with laughter and tales, but Axel's mind was elsewhere. He stared into the fire, haunted by the morning's events—the black veins, the agony, the collapse in the forest.
A faint pulsing stirred in his pocket, subtle at first. His hand drifted down, fingers brushing the black spade card, which felt warm, almost alive. "What…?" he whispered, confused.
The card hummed softly, its vibration like a heartbeat. A faint black mist curled from its edges, wrapping lightly around his hand before dissipating. His heart raced, the hairs on his neck standing on end. He glanced at his arms; the veins were faintly darker, like shadows just beneath the skin. Not painful this time, but… alive. A subtle pulse of energy moved through him, tickling the edges of his senses.
His breath quickened. The black veins in the forest, the agony that had felled him, and now this card—it was all connected. Something was stirring within him, something beyond his control.
"I… I can't let this control me," he muttered, tense but resolute. "Not yet."
The thieves' voices drifted across the fire, but Axel barely heard them. His eyes fixed on the spade card, its black surface seeming to pulse with a life of its own. The shadows around the camp grew heavier, stretching toward him. A faint whisper brushed his mind, soft but insistent, almost playful: Power… freedom… your path lies with me…
Axel's jaw tightened, a shiver running through him—not from the cold, but from the weight of what the card might mean. He withdrew his hand, holding the spade card before him like a shield against its call. "Not… now," he said firmly, defiantly. "Not yet."
A subtle black shimmer lingered around his fingertips, pulsing with each heartbeat, a quiet reminder that the Devil's Offer had already touched him. He had taken the card, but the path it offered was his to choose.
The night stretched on. The thieves dozed, their snores mingling with the distant cries of unseen creatures. Axel remained awake, sitting in the shadows, watching the card, feeling the pulse beneath his skin. The forest whispered secrets he couldn't yet grasp, and Espada felt alive, watching, waiting.
This journey was no longer just about finding himself. It was about resisting the pull of something ancient, powerful, and dangerous—something entwined with his very being. Axel pressed the card to his chest, taking a deep, steadying breath.
"I'll walk this path… on my terms," he whispered, his voice resolute but tinged with uncertainty.
But as the shadows lengthened and the forest deepened, one truth was undeniable: the spade card had chosen him, whether he wanted it or not. Its influence was growing, and soon, it would demand more than he could ignore.
To Be Continued…