XVIII. Apparently no one expected an attack would happen that night. People ran around screaming as hordes of unknown monsters suddenly appeared out of nowhere within Morroc, effectively ripping to shreds the overall sense of frenzied contentment that blanketed the oasis city.
Still frenzied, yes. For Sevrin, who struggled to keep her wits about as she unsheathed her bastard blade, it was like the fabled Ragnarok—the End of Rune-Midgard—only that there was nothing mythical about this. There was nothing magical with the sound of bones being crushed as they were being gnawed on by monster’s jaws; nothing fairytale-like about the children’s screams of terror.
As she ran, she stepped upon a discarded Smiley Mask, crushing it with her heel, and one could say that the resulting damage it had caused to that porcelain mask, now smeared with mud and with cracks spreading across its visage, could very well be an apt parallel to what was happening.
A scream.
Sevrin immediately turned and craned her neck to try and filter out the source of a woman’s terrified shrieks, though in the midst of the pandemonic ruckus—people running around screaming…monsters swaggering about making their way into the horrified throng like tanks…and houses and establishments all ablaze—it was quite hard to do.
Yet she managed to discern where it came from: an alley nearby. Without any hesitation, she ran full-speed, toppling over tables and tripping two people in the process.
The alley was pitch black; yet a woman’s frightened sobs and slithering of slick flesh was all Sevrin needed to visualize the situation at hand. She bit her lip; wishing that she wasn’t too late. There are times when the victim could still be heard crying yet with limbs torn apart....
“Show yourself.” Sevrin mouthed the words solemnly as she held out her bastard sword in front of her.
A stirring. “PLEASE! PLEASE HEL—“
Crunch.
“Damn it.” Knowing that there was no more victim to save, that there was no reason for her to take caution, Sevrin charged ahead blindly in the darkness, her blade leading the way for her. She would eventually hit flesh.
And she did. She felt hot liquid splash and pass through the slits of her helm’s visor and of her iron cain; Sevrin bit her lips close, not willing, in any way, to taste the warm fluid running across her face and lips.
Hiss.
The unseen monster was still alive; despite Sevrin’s twisting her blade in its flesh. She quickly pulled out and poised for another attack, her other four senses struggling to compensate for her lack of vision. The rhythmic patter on the seemingly cobble-stoned ground indicated that the beast she was dealing with probably had clawed feet; and her uncannily sensitive touch told her that this particular beast was not driven to kill by instinct; Sevrin felt pure menace oozing out of it.
Her mind was screaming for her to move, now!
Not a moment to lose! Sevrin quickly swung her blade in the widest possible radius she could manage, trying to feel for bare walls. Cobblestones were no use if she was aiming for a powerful Magnum Break; she would have to hope for brick walls....
The sparks emanating from her blade told her she had hit gold; gathering her strength, she swung her blade around, this time with force applied on the hilt, charging her Magnum Break with more friction.
The flame trailing the tip of Sevrin’s bastard blade illuminated the scene—which for the moment shook her—yet her quickened instincts pushed her to plunge her sword into the monster....
