"Eli! Move—we need to run!"
A voice rang out. It felt familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Not that it mattered.
He was in the middle of lowering the woman in his arms when the pain hit—sharp, disorienting, and strangely clarifying. Like it was peeling something off his mind.
"No… don't," he muttered, eyes wide with distress. "I… I don't want to remember."
But he remembered one thing clearly—he mustn't let go of the unconscious woman in his arms.
"What the hell are you saying?! We don't have time, this is a Class IV!" The voice echoed around him—urgent, angry. His gaze swept through the haze of pain and hatred.
There, in the distance, stood two women. One wreathed in cursed flames. The other, shouting at him.
Their eyes met. Something shifted in the dirty-blonde girl's stare.
Was that… fear?
Good. That's what she should feel.
My brothers are fighting. I need to help them.
He lunged forward. The tendrils still clung to his body, slithering up his form. But he didn't let go of the unconscious woman. He couldn't. The compulsion ran deeper than the flesh.
No matter, once this is taken care of, she'll feel the bliss too.
He threw a high kick at the flame-wielder—the one hurting his family. She didn't flinch. The other woman intercepted the strike, shielding her ally with practiced precision.
"Get a grip, dammit!" she barked, deflecting him with force.
The flame-wielder said something in her foreign tongue, sharp and commanding. Elion didn't understand it—except for a few strange words that somehow made sense.
"Torak don't ven save zhal... vek nazir en flee, Eshrod. Kelrek ven'tor dorash nor much longer!"
"I don't care!" the other snapped. "We're not abandoning him. He still has Farha too!"
Elion didn't pay the words much attention. They didn't matter anyway. He launched another kick toward the flame-wielder. Again blocked—but this time, his brothers were ready.
They connected to the protector—the black handed Gremlin.
Gremlin?Why do I call her that? She's not even that short… or ugly.
He would have loved to ponder more on the subject, but right now was not the time.
The Gremlin screamed, tendrils sinking into her skin. As she was connected to the greater whole, Elion could sense what she was sensing. See what she was thinking.
She knows me...
But how? I've never met her before.
Have I?
Seeing her writhe hurt him—not physically, but in a way that twisted his chest.
I... I should help her.
No you fool! This is your enemy! The one trying to destroy your family…
But… she could be family too.
Right, if she connects too, I'll be able to help her! She'll understand, she'll feel bliss too!
So why did that thought taste so bitter?
Gods, I really am a selfish bastard.
It was only a matter of time before she joined him anyway. The priority was the flame-wielding idiot. Once she was gone, everything would fall into place.
He lunged again, but the Gremlin struck him mid-charge.
How is she still moving?!
He saw it then—her sword, dripping with the blood of his brothers.
She cut them… she severed the connection.
No. No, no, no. You don't cut family!
And yet… deep down, Elion was relieved.
He didn't know why. The contradiction gnawed at him. Like he was missing something, missing the point.
He felt strings tug at his nerves.
Mother is here!
Behind, in the gloom of the forest, a figure was walking slowly. She had the form of a human with two horns reminiscent of the fire-wielding idiot.
Mother is miles ahead of her in terms of charms!
She harbored a slender, pale body. Looking as exquisite as always… even if it was his first time meeting her.
She wore a white and… crimson dress, her smile was radiant and reassuring. Just laying eyes on her made his confusion vanish.
He knew what he had to do:
Lower the woman. Let her join the family. Then end the flame-wielder. Finaly, welcome the Gremlin.
It was a great plan, a perfect plan really. Something only Mother could come up with. And with her, it was infallible, they would win, win easily at that.
Elion was unfathomably happy.
His smile widened—unnervingly so, but there was no malice. Only joy. He and Mother were here to share the bliss.
Huh? What is Mother saying?
Behind me?
"ARGHH!" His scream pierced the void above.
The fog clogging his mind vanished, leaving only fleeting remnants of bliss.
"No! Don't go! I… I NEED YOU!" He screamed, pleaded, but it was vanishing.
And now he saw her clearly.
Mother looked… different. No, not Mother… the Class IV.
Her dress wasn't white and crimson—it was rotted silk, stained with dried blood. Her skin was corpse-pale, purple veins bulging beneath the surface. Her eyes were gone and her smile—gods that smile.
It was utterly broken and wrong.
"You back with us, nutjob?" Eshrod's voice cut through behind him.
She stood, sword in hand, covered in gore. She had severed the tendrils binding him to the Class IV with one decisive slash.
She looked like hell—bloodied, tired, still standing only out of pure grit.
Kellta was fighting to keep the abomination at bay with a torrent of flames.
Elion shook off the remaining fog in his mind. Truth be told, it wasn't exactly okay, and he was still heavily confused, but he knew now. He needed to get the fuck away from here.
"I… I'm—" He didn't have time to finish his sentence before Eshrod grabbed his collar and yanked him back.
The three Unlocked ran, Kellta keeping the wall of flame up for as long as possible and Elion carrying Farha. He had never let go of her.
The forest passed before him, but his leg hurt and his mind was numb. He only ran because that's what he had to do. That's what his… friends? Yeah… that's what his friends were doing, so he followed.
Eventually, the forest thinned. The tendrils lost ground. The Class IV didn't follow.
When they finally stopped, Elion collapsed, gasping, mind spinning in every direction in a blurry mess of thoughts.
"What the hell was that?" Eshrod asked, breathing hard.
The young cook wasn't sure who the question was meant for, but Kellta answered.
"I don't know. That was my first time seeing something like it."
She hadn't been connected, so her mind was clearer. But her body showed the toll.
The memories of what happened never left Elion's mind, but they were distorted and hard to recall. It was as if his manipulated self was now mixed with the real thoughts he was having during the moment. The thoughts that were buried and tucked away by the Class IV.
But one memory stood out in horrific clarity.
He almost gave Farha away.
Even being ripped from the bliss wasn't as painful as that…
He turned to Kellta, gathering what little focus he had left.
"Thank… thank you."
She looked confused.
"For saving me," he clarified. "Us."
After a moment, she asked,
"Are you… okay?"
Elion took a deep breath. Normally he would have put on a mask, said everything was alright, but right now, it didn't seem feasible to him.
"No," he said honestly. His voice was quiet, shaking. "I need… rest. I don't know what to do. How to feel. This is…"
His words fell apart.
"Just rest," Kellta said softly, her tone reassuring. "We'll keep watch."
That was all he needed to hear. Right now, he just needed people to trust, and at least for this moment, he had complete trust in his companions.