"I didn't tell you to move," spat the officer.
Pain seared through Charles's fingertips and all the way up to his forearm, forcing his hand to tremble. The officer's thick steel boot dug into his skin, blood staining the rocky, beige gravel.
"Ah. . ." Charles grimaced. "I–I'm sorry. It's just. . . If he doesn't have the fish, there's nothing stopping him from tearing our ears off." His back ached from bending down at the strange angle.
"Quiet," the officer hissed.
Emory, having been without his fish for a while now, wrinkled his eyes.
WAAH!
The carriage driver jolted first, followed by Charles, and finally, the four officers. Emory's wail was comparable to the siren that blared weeks ago. In fact, it might have been louder.
The officer glared at Charles. "Make him stop. It's annoying."
"I–I can't, sir. He needs the fish, and for that, you have to lift your boot. Please."
"Don't talk back to me."
A searing sting distressed Charles as he was kicked in the face. He had no time to recover before the officer's thick boot drove into his face again. And again. And again. Charles's face became unrecognizable; the military man's steel-toed boot assumed a new shade—red.
He calmly stated, "Authority over all."
His face contorted with swollen cheeks, eyes, and lips, Charles was overwhelmed by the urge to run and embrace Emory. The child struggled on the ground a couple of meters away, his arms flailing in the air, his screams enveloping the sky.
"E–Emory. . ." Charles attempted to move but was immediately pummeled to the ground.
He wanted to curl up into a ball with Emory safe in his arms. He wanted to tend to the torturous injuries on his face. Why had he even come here? Was this a sign by the universe telling him that mourning Isabelle's death was a mistake?
This was the first step to forgetting his time with her. He was slowly becoming someone like Amadea, who had forgotten the year her own husband died.
This was supposed to be a mournful event. Why were they being tormented? Who was this officer? Did he even have the jurisdiction to hurt them when they had done nothing wrong?
Fear, obviously, prevented Charles from asking these questions, especially to a person of authority like the man in front of him.
Thaos, who had been responsible for beating Charles, beckoned his subordinates. "Hold him down, Rutan. Agun, stay next to the driver. . . in case he does something."
Rutan and Agun ran off, one toward Charles, the other toward Eren Seisyll.
The final member of the military, Lawrence, stayed next to Emory, occasionally grabbing his sword and wondering if it was okay to just off the crying child. He peered at the child with disgust.
Thaos marched slowly toward Emory, brushing his thick black hair to the side. "Rutan, now!"
Charles's aching eyes froze. No. Surely, no. The officer has to have some humanity left! As Thaos approached Emory, he simultaneously unsheathed a silver sword and clenched it. A twisted smile usurped his face.
"No–" The world around Charles shook. "Stop, please–"
A foul, burly hand covered his mouth. Then an even larger body loomed over him, perching on his sore back.
Rutan's slimy voice slithered into his ear, "You can't help him. No one's going to help you. Sad, huh? So sad." He chuckled. "Tell me, how does it feel?" Rutan leaned closer, a dirty breath agitating Charles's nostrils, "How does it feel to be so powerless?"
Charles muffled, shifted, and arched his body in ways he'd never done before. All to get Rutan off of him. But after every try, the buff man smacked his face and sneered, "Never ever!"
No! Charles's mind buzzed. He had lost Isabelle, his world, just fourteen days ago! Not Emory, he pleaded internally.
Please, not him. Take me instead, I'll die. I'll gladly give you my life, just please!
I'll die if that means Emory can live!
Charles mustered all his might and squirmed left, catching Rutan off guard. The latter's body twisted as he fell, allowing Charles to escape his grasp.
Now free, he stumbled to his feet and screamed, "Stop! Stop! Hic–Kill me instead! Leave Emory alone, he's only a child–hic! Emory's done nothing wrong!"
Thaos snorted. "Relax, we'll get to you soon. Do you really think we'd kill the baby and let the other two live?" He glanced back at Eren, the carriage driver.
Thaos's sneer made Eren shiver and desperately want to bolt. Just as his foot left the carriage platform, Agun's muscular arm reached out and grabbed him.
Thwump!
Launched against the floor, Eren's back throbbed.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no! P–Please not me, leave me alone! K–Kill him, he asked for it! I want to live! Let me go, let me go!" He flapped around vigorously but was too scared to actually make a run for it.
"Shut up." Agun elbowed Eren, quieting him for a moment.
"Emory!" Charles bellowed. He got to his feet and ran as fast as he could toward his child. Alas, Charles should have participated in his class races. Rutan caught up to him in mere seconds, pulling him by the collar and hurling him to the floor.
Faint colors of black, white, and gray appeared in Charles's vision. His throat itched, like he couldn't speak anymore. His arms, legs, and torso froze.
Finally, amidst all the brutality, and just when Thaos's silver sword was about to reach Emory's neck, Charles's eyes rolled to the back of his head.
. . . .
Standing before the wailing child, Thaos couldn't contain his grin. I'll do as you say, my Liege. Anything for you.
Yesterday, when he had been patrolling aimlessly, a figure that only he could see appeared. Fearful and awestruck, Thaos's interest skyrocketed.
Was he a chosen one, the protagonist of this story?
The figure instructed him to go into a secluded area, and Thaos immediately obliged. He hummed with anticipation. "Yes?"
The man, shielded by an ethereal light, was stark, rigid, and commanding. "Kill the child who will come to you in a carriage tomorrow."
Thaos had never killed anyone before, so apprehension was a given. While he was familiar with brutal fights and liked being a power-hungry sicko, he'd never taken a life. He'd never seen the luster escape someone's pupils as they drifted to eternal slumber.
However, all it took was this powerful being's command to change his ideology. He didn't need a gift from this Entity; selection for this task was more than enough!
"Kill the father and the carriage driver as well. No one but you and your subordinates will bear witness."
Thaos nodded his head. "Yes, yes, and yes. Anything else. . . uh. . ." He didn't know what to call this being.
The silhouette paused, his radiant robe glistening in the sun. He looked at Thaos with two gleaming eyes. "I am a menial of Usurped Emperor Maisedes."
"Usurped Emperor Maisedes. . ." Thaos echoed. Like Liege Maisedes, Father of Houtis?
The menial calmly added,
"Call me Tragedy."
. . . .
Eren Seisyll dreadfully watched Thaos's sword reach the edge of the baby's neck.
He's going to kill him, and then me?
In truth, he didn't care for the child one bit, nor did he care for the unconscious father. Eren just wanted to leave. He never should have taken this job. He had a wretched divorced wife to hunt! A son to find!
I can't leave with this scary man behind me! Someone, help!
. . . .
Everyone watched with anticipation.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Why had Thaos paused? His sword was only centimeters away from Emory's neck.
Boom!
The sky crackled and the trees whistled. No, whistling wasn't quite correct. It was a different type of sound. Something everyone present bore familiarity to.
A laugh. A simple, mocking laugh. It mimicked the exact laughter of regular humans.
The rocks did so as well. Soon, the sand. The clouds. The grass. The air!
Everything around the seven people in this remote area snorted without end!
In the thick of all this preposterousness, Thaos tensed. The rest of the group watched the inanimate objects around them giggle in astonishment, but his eyes quivered, like the weight of the world hit them.
Inexplicably, Thaos's sword plopped to the ground, followed by its wielder. His pupils dilated, and blood profusely left his ears.
"Agh!"
Pain! Unimaginable pain! Yet his subordinates remained oblivious! Thaos rolled all over the floor, howling for the agony rippling across his body to end.
". . ."
He clutched his knees and whimpered, "It's. . . Uh. . . I was told to! T–That's right! I was told to by a powerful Entity!"
There was a pause.
"L–Liege Maisedes! Yes, him! D–Don't mess around with his plans, or e–else. . ." Thaos's ear visibly distorted.
Suddenly, a searing pain convulsed in his left hand, the one that had gripped the silver blade. Thaos's hands, both of them, exploded without mercy. Blood sprayed all over the ground, leaving two gushing wounds on his bulging arms. His face reddened as he bawled in misery.
Another pause.
Thaos's feet ruptured and exploded violently. A pool of crimson liquid covered the area and deepened by the second. His ear-splitting screams grew louder and louder.
Another pause.
A bubble formed right above Thaos's stomach. He watched the mysterious mass with woeful eyes, wishing for the pain to end his life.
Pop!
The bubble on his chest expanded, reaching the size of his upper body. Without warning, it popped and took his full waist with it.
"Ahhh!" He rolled on the ground with whatever frame he had left. The pain was too much! Too, too much!
"Maisedes, Liege Maisedes, help me! Tragedy! Save me, Tragedy!" he yelled, finally gaining the attention of the other humans present.
Finally, those captivated by the laughing ecosystem woke. Rutan, Agun, and Lawrence, Thaos's subordinates, saw their superior in his sorry state.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!"
They each ran away, crying at the top of their lungs.
Eren Seisyll's eyes greyed, his face paled, and his arms froze.
Charles Vaughan, who had not yet woken, lay a distance away.
The blob of flesh known as Thaos moved his mouth slightly and whispered,
"Contrivance. . . is. . . infinity. . ."