Lord Firel had raised his fist, muscles tensed, ready to deliver the final blow. Aiden struggled to loosen the fingers gripping his collar, but his exhausted strength wouldn't allow it. The cold breath of death was upon him.
Just then, a pungent scent of ozone spread through the heavy, dusty air of the church.
Firel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Hearing the crackle of static electricity behind him, he turned his head, only for his field of vision to be flooded by a blue flash. Bjorn's fist, coated in electricity, descended upon Firel's face like a sledgehammer.
The impact sent Firel's massive body flying sideways, crashing onto the floor with a loud thud.
"Aiden! You alive, buddy?" Bjorn asked, his voice cheerful and excited, as if he were in a bar fight.
Aiden parted his blood-filled mouth, but only wheezes escaped his throat.
Bjorn slammed his crackling fists together. "Let me take care of this scumbag, then I'll get you to a doctor. Just hang in there a bit longer."
From within the dust cloud on the floor, Firel slowly sat up. His jaw was hanging at an odd angle. He grabbed his chin with his right hand and, with a disgusting crunch, snapped it back into place, moving it left and right to test it.
"So, you're not human..." Firel said, his voice devoid of any pain; there was only pure curiosity. He locked his eyes on Bjorn. "You don't look like a half-beast either. Are you a curse?"
"That's exactly who I am, brooo!!!" Bjorn roared. His arms were covered in an uncontrolled current of electricity, illuminating the surroundings with their glow.
The crowd outside the church listened in fear to the noises coming from inside—the sounds of flesh striking flesh and static explosions.
Then, there was a sudden, deep silence.
The silence was broken by an object shooting out of the church door like an arrow. Bjorn's body somersaulted through the air, crossed the square, and slammed into the wall of the opposite building with a tremendous crash. As the bricks of the wall crumbled to dust, Bjorn was buried amidst the pile of rubble.
Firel cracked his neck and fixed his eyes back on Aiden. There wasn't a single scratch on him. "Now, where were we?"
Aiden felt an internal despair. Yet, the survival instinct was screaming in the farthest corners of his brain. As his trembling hands groped the floor, he felt a familiar vibration—a faint flow of spiritual energy.
"Firel!" he shouted, his voice sounding like a torn drum. "If you spare my life... I can tell you where Father's secret stash of holy masks is!"
Firel paused, then curled his lip in a disdainful expression. "Fear of death makes one tell creative lies. You're making yourself look pathetic, Eyeless Hunter."
Aiden didn't answer. He tightly gripped a long splinter of wood he found on the floor, ignoring the splinters digging into his hand. He focused all his attention on the flow of spiritual energy. With a final burst of strength, he sat up and threw the wood at a specific point on the thick pillar standing diagonally behind him.
The wood pierced the wooden cladding of the pillar and embedded itself inside.
At that moment, pure and intensely scented spiritual energy began to leak out from the opening. The atmosphere of the room suddenly changed, becoming heavier.
As Aiden's consciousness faded, a whisper fell from his lips: "You loved hiding things so much... You're just like Halo, Father..." And then he blacked out.
Firel walked toward the slit. When he ripped off the wooden cladding with one hand, he saw dozens of pristine, shining holy masks inside.
At that moment, his right-hand man, Carlos, entered through the church door. He looked at the corpses and the pool of blood around him indifferently, as if it were an everyday scene.
"Hey boss," he said, scratching his hair with his right hand. "All our guys are dead. What's going on here?"
Firel answered without taking his eyes off the masks. "Carlos... We'll be able to survive a while longer. Wake the kid up. I have questions to ask."
Carlos shrugged and headed toward the cauldron of holy water. He took some ice-cold water with a rusty bowl and dumped it over the unconscious Aiden's head. Aiden came to, gasping for air and coughing as if drowning.
Carlos looked at the empty bowl in his hand and scratched his head. "Uhh... Boss... Isn't this guy blind? How are we gonna know if he's awake when his eyes are closed?"
Firel walked heavily to Aiden's side and knelt on one knee. His shadow fell over Aiden.
"If you continue to be useful," Firel said, his voice no longer threatening but business-like, "I can cancel your execution and save you a seat at the island's leadership table."
Aiden clenched his bloody teeth, his wet hair plastered to his face. "My friend you threw outside... If he is still alive..."
Before he could finish his sentence, an earth-shaking bellow was heard from the pile of rubble outside. Bjorn stormed in through the door in a rage.
"HEEEEEY!!!! WHO ARE YOU TO THROW GROM'S SON ASIDE LIKE TRASH!! COME HERE!!"
Aiden pushed himself up slightly, holding his aching ribs. His voice was calm. "Bjorn... Calm down. We are making a peace treaty right now."
That animalistic rage inside Bjorn cut off instantly. "Oh... My bad. You guys carry on then," he said, holding his lower back as he limped out of the church.
There was a brief silence inside. Carlos turned to his boss in confusion. "Boss... Who is Grom?"
"I don't know," Firel said, letting out a weary breath. "He's a curse, probably making things up. Yes, Aiden, your friend is alive. Let's get to the point. Are there more masks?"
Aiden lifted his head slightly. The usual blank expression on his face was replaced by a sly smile settling on his bloody lips.