Chapter 14: Blood and Resolve
Sir Bolton's fingers tightened around Oliver's leg, and the boy screamed as a sharp crack echoed through the vent. Pain shot up Oliver's spine, and his vision blurred. His entire body stiffened, instinctively trying to pull away, but the grip was too strong.
His efforts proved useless against a superior power. To Bolton, he was nothing more than extra seasoning to the delicacy that was Velma.
On the banquet floor, Velma lay dazed, her vision tunneling from blood loss. But the moment she saw Bolton dragging her little brother backward through the vent, something inside her snapped.
"No…" she whispered. "No!"
Her trembling hand slammed against the blood-soaked floor, and with a cry, she pushed herself up. Her body screamed in protest, but her will was louder. She kicked off with what little strength she had left, launching herself at Sir Bolton's back and wrapping her arms around his waist like a shield.
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" she roared, summoning every last drop of Aether she had. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
Bolton growled. "Persistent little—"
He struck her across the face, hard. Velma reeled, blood spurting from her lip, but she didn't let go. She clenched her jaw, drawing the final spark of Aether to her teeth, and bit down—right over the Norran Vein, a rarely exposed blood channel near the lower rib that bypasses most Aether defenses, lying just beneath his reinforced skin.
Bolton's eyes flared as a thin stream of blood gushed from the bite.
"ARGH!" he howled.
His grip faltered—just for a moment—but it was all Oliver needed. With a primal cry, he kicked with his good leg, slamming it into Bolton's face. The older man cursed, clutching his bleeding side, and Oliver slid deeper into the vent.
Bolton reached again, but it was too late. The boy had gone too deep.
But then Oliver suddenly stopped. He dug into his clothes for the dagger.
For a moment, even Bolton looked on with curiosity. Was the rat finally developing some spine?
In Oliver's eyes was something else that seemed to blanket his earlier fear.
Then he hesitated, placed the dagger back, and crawled deeper into the vents.
"Useless..." Rage twisted Bolton's face. He turned back to Velma and slammed her against the floor.
Blood pooled beneath her, her breathing now shallow. But her eyes—half-lidded and barely open—watched the vent. Watched Oliver vanish. Relief settled in her gaze as her head hit the floor, and everything faded to black.
But Bolton was too angry to let Velma have the release she had just earned. He walked over, planning to teach her a lesson.
Oliver dragged himself deeper into the dark passage, pain and fear burning in his chest. "Not again… not again… not again…" he whispered like a chant, his voice breaking as tears blurred his vision.
He had barely escaped—again.
And yet again, Velma had done it. Even against all odds, she had saved him.
His broken leg throbbed violently with every movement, but he didn't stop. Something inside him was moving, growing. The fear was still there—but so was anger, and guilt, and something deeper: resolve.
The same resolve that had finally given him the courage to disobey his captors for the first time.
The same resolve planted in his heart when he saw her corpse. Now, it was growing, charging through the forest of fear that had swallowed him for so many years as a slave.
Sir Fen Bolton. You piece of absolute SHIT! How dare you touch my sister... I'll... kill you. No, I'll first tear you apart, limb from limb. Curse words grew in his heart as his hatred ripened. Just you wait! All of you wait... I'll kill all of you! I'll get my revenge.
Finally, he saw it—a faint light at the edge of the vent. With one last kick, he broke through, tumbling into a familiar room.
He gasped.
It was his mother's chambers.
And, as anyone would guess, it was no sanctuary.
After all, that creature had been stationed here.
Smoke and shadows coiled through the air like living things. The smell of blood was thick—iron and rot. All around the room lay mutilated corpses of soldiers, shredded as though by claws or blades.
Their Aether had been useless here.
At the center of it all stood the Demon, Accra.
It barely looked human. Its body was cloaked in writhing black Aether that oozed like smoke. Its eyes—red, lidless, and glowing—snapped toward Oliver as if sensing prey. In its grip, a whimpering soldier begged for mercy.
The Demon smiled.
Then snapped the man in half like a twig.
The sound of bones breaking echoed as the corpse fell in two, blood painting the walls—some of it hot and fresh, splattering Oliver's face.
And then there was silence.
Oliver, on one good leg, barely breathing, stared in horror. Cold sweat ran down his neck. He had come here out of desperation, but now that he stood before the monster, his body refused to move.
The Demon tilted its head.
A child?
Oliver's voice trembled in his mind. W-What… what am I doing here? AHHH... Yes, I remember... I want power... I want the Alchemist's Seal.
Back at the banquet, the massacre still raged.
Screams and clashes echoed across the marbled halls. Aether bursts shattered stone pillars. Noble blood stained velvet carpets. Most of the kingdom's resistance had been crushed—or betrayed.
And yet, in the heart of the chaos, Richie Von Rich sat calmly, a glass of that same Aether-poisoned wine in hand.
Seraphina turned. If not for her power, her dress would have been drenched in blood not her own. Her eyes—slits of glowing violet—narrowed as she watched him. He was smiling, sipping the wine that should have made him powerless. If he was drinking it, then he was definitely immune to the dungeon's poison. The glass trembled slightly in her hand.
Why hasn't he moved? Even though he thought out that plan, where is his desperation, like the others? Seraphina took a step forward, her eyes meeting Richie's.
He raised his glass in mock toast to her. "Lovely night, isn't it?" he spoke softly.
"I bring ruin to your whole world, HUSBAND, fresh on the night of our union. Yet, here you are, sitting, enjoying the show. Hmmm... Is it true what the demons say... you are actually a really cruel man?"