I just want to know if this chapter was engaging or not, that's all.
Without any delay, they glided over the slumbering horde. The air around them was thin and filled with sulfur. Deron was not going to run out of breath; inside his chest, his lungs kept expanding and collapsing relentlessly.
Thick sulfur in the air entered his nose; the scorched-earth taste on his tongue faded as the air filtered through his lungs.
A few minutes ago, Deron's breath raced like a horse as he carried his unconscious partner. She was heavy before, but now, she did not weigh him down like before; her obsidian leg must have weighed a kilogram or two.
Deron's breath was now calm as relief sparked in his chest. However, his stomach twisted.
I shouldn't feel like this.
He sighed; he had to explain himself to Neg when she woke up. She had to now live in shame as amputated fiends were looked down upon, as amputation was a mark of uselessness. Prosthetics existed, but Deron could not afford them. However, if their plan succeeded…
Deron's right arm pained slightly; the wound was clotted, and a few drops of blood flowed out. But as a gladiator, his tolerance of pain was high. He ignored it and diverted his attention to Neg.
Before he could further think about it, a whisper cut through the fog. It was Ryne.
"Just keep your distance and glide down into the city."
Wings of Deron and his band-mates flapped softly as they moved forward, beneath them, the obsidian limbs twitched.
Click-Click-Click.
One loud flap, and Deron may have to slash his limbs too…
With the soft flaps, the bandits reached a height. It was colder than before, and tiny bumps stood on their skin. This height was perfect to glide down without any trouble.
The gentle flaps of their wings slowed until they disappeared entirely; the bandits now strode forward, their wings fixed open above their shoulders. Deron cut through the air and the thin fog as he held Neg tightly.
Click-Click-Click.
The clicking of the mantises was now right beneath them. Without looking down, Deron glided forward along with the group.
As they descended, the fog thickened around them. Fog obstructed his vision and swallowed them entirely. Only black silhouettes and pale green light were visible in the fog.
Deron kept his ears open and hoped nothing came for him. He also hoped for the voice not to return.
…
A few hours had passed, Deron's shoulder ached, and he felt sharp pain all over his wings. Neg was still unconscious; however, her breath was calm, and her legs had stopped bleeding. Fiend's body was impressive; even if they lose their limbs, they will not bleed out to death. Instead, their blood clotted at a very high speed.
So, Deron did not worry about her death. His eyes swept the other bandits' faces. His sight was met with half-closed eyes, pale faces. It was evident from their expression that they, too, felt what Deron felt.
But they had only managed to scale half of the wall. Deron knew he had to stay composed; if he lost his composure and fell down, he would not die. However, he will definitely break a limb or two.
They still had to glide for a few more hours before reaching the ground. Deron's eyes could no longer see the clear silhouettes, either; everything was blurry.
Deron narrowed his eyes, but it was still blurry. However, the air was no longer thick. So at least his tongue no longer had to taste scorched earth for every few minutes.
With every passing minute, Deron's body swayed. His wings now weighed more than Neg. Every inch on his upper body ached. His breath picked up again, and he started sounding like a pack mule hauling a dozen bags.
A few more hours…
Deron endured the pain and kept gliding along with his group.
…
Finally, they reached the ground after gliding for a couple more hours. Deron's boot met the cold, darkened stone ground with a soft thud. His face finally loosened as his feet gave up, and he knelt on the ground.
With a deep inhale, he retracted his wings. It felt good. His upper body no longer felt heavy, and the pain that spread across his wings now lessened.
He carefully untied the knot and let Neg sit on the ground, and he let his body slump onto the stone ground. Fog swallowed them. It was thick; everything around him was milky.
Deron knew that at any time something might attack. But he did not care; all he could think of was to sleep.
Soft thuds echoed around him as the other bandits landed. Deron lay on the stone beside Neg, and his breath finally began to slow down.
For a few moments, Deron's eyelids closed. With a heavy sigh, he sat up.
He fumbled with his pack, his fingers stiff and trembling, and pulled out the leather-sleeved bottle. The pop of the cork felt deafening in the heavy silence. He tilted the bottle, letting a few droplets of lukewarm water splash onto Neg's pale face.
Her breath hitched. A low, ragged moan escaped her lips as her eyes twitched open. Her red pupils were hazy at first, wandering through the grey void before finally locking onto Deron.
A soft whisper escaped her lips.
"Deron."
Deron took Neg into his arms and embraced her; the warmth shared between them was soothing. Their heartbeats echoed between then their bodies pressed tight for a few minutes.
Deron rubbed his mate's back gently as he buried her head into his neck. He knew he had to answer for her leg in the next few moments.
However, Neg grunted and tightened her face. Deron realised she finally felt the pain.
She pulled away and looked at her clotted stump of a leg; the colour on her face drained as she realised it. Her hands twitched as he tried to touch the leg she used to have, but her arms waved in the air.
Neg's jaw parted wide, as her eyes widened. Deron could not bear the look on her face. With a sigh, he spoke in a low voice.
"I am sorry, I had to do it. You were turning into glass"
Deron looked down at the stone road. He could not meet her eyes. So it was better to look down.
Neg sat in silence; she no longer looked at him. For fiends, it was better to die than live a life of uselessness.
However, behind him, he could hear a commotion going on. The loud voices of his bandmates reached his ear.
"You stillborn! You killed him for nothing!"
"Then what else do you want me to do? Die with me?"
The bickering behind him carried on as Deron ignored it and looked forward.
An hour has passed as the bandits moved forward into the city, and the milky fog around him obstructed everything. Deron carried Neg on his back as she slumped her head without speaking.
Deron looked around; he could only see the black stone road before him. Now and then, a scorched crooked figure met his gaze, only to turn out to be a metal lantern post. Sometimes, a pale green light emitted from a far distance.
Except for the footsteps, nothing else reached them. The silence was deafening. Deron simply walked forward; surprisingly, the voice in his head was silent. Maybe for once it sympathised with him.
However, a hard thud tore through the silence. Somewhere in front of him, heavy footsteps echoed in the fog.
Deron and the bandits beside him halted. Ryne stood in front of him and spoke in a low tone.
"Be ready."
Thud-Thud-Thud.
A figure emerged out of a blurred turning, the black silhouette of which had a pale green light emitting from it.
Multiple branches emerged from the centre part of it; they twitched as they moved at an uneven pace. Deron hoped the apparition moved away, but it did not. It stood still in front of them and down the street.
Deron's heart beat grew loud; he could hear the others' heart beat too. His ear could sense the breath of Neg, even though she lifted her head.
The apparition finally turned toward them, its figure grew close as the footsteps grew louder.
Thud-Thud-Thud.
Quickly, Deron pulled out the schimitar on his belt, and everyone followed them. Everyone beside him now carried a weapon in their arm.
Ryne now carried a buckler and a rapier. With each step, the apparition's figure grew clearer.
Its head had an ever-screaming face, pale light emitting from its mouth and empty eye sockets.
Its skin was scorched, and a thick black skin covered its body and emitted pale green light. Its organs were visible through the skin.
The branches were its limbs; its crooked limbs had bone blades emerging through deformed palms.
Thud-Thud-Thud.
Its limbs twitched at an uneven pace.
Deron didn't think; he simply reacted. He shifted his weight, ensuring Neg was secure against his back before his hand clamped around the hilt of his scimitar. The cold steel felt like an extension of his arm. His breath slowed to a predatory crawl, his boots anchoring deep into the stone.
However, his voice in Deron's head spoke again.
Let's see what your superior race is capable of, gladiator…
Without any delay, they glided over the slumbering horde. The air around them was thin and filled with sulfur. Deron was not going to run out of breath; inside his chest, his lungs kept expanding and collapsing relentlessly.
Thick sulfur in the air entered his nose; the scorched-earth taste on his tongue faded as the air filtered through his lungs.
A few minutes ago, Deron's breath raced like a horse as he carried his unconscious partner. She was heavy before, but now, she did not weigh him down like before; her obsidian leg must have weighed a kilogram or two.
Deron's breath was now calm as relief sparked in his chest. However, his stomach twisted.
I shouldn't feel like this.
He sighed; he had to explain himself to Neg when she woke up. She had to now live in shame as amputated fiends were looked down upon, as amputation was a mark of uselessness. Prosthetics existed, but Deron could not afford them. However, if their plan succeeded…
Deron's right arm pained slightly; the wound was clotted, and a few drops of blood flowed out. But as a gladiator, his tolerance of pain was high. He ignored it and diverted his attention to Neg.
Before he could further think about it, a whisper cut through the fog. It was Ryne.
"Just keep your distance and glide down into the city."
Wings of Deron and his band-mates flapped softly as they moved forward, beneath them, the obsidian limbs twitched.
Click-Click-Click.
One loud flap, and Deron may have to slash his limbs too…
With the soft flaps, the bandits reached a height. It was colder than before, and tiny bumps stood on their skin. This height was perfect to glide down without any trouble.
The gentle flaps of their wings slowed until they disappeared entirely; the bandits now strode forward, their wings fixed open above their shoulders. Deron cut through the air and the thin fog as he held Neg tightly.
Click-Click-Click.
The clicking of the mantises was now right beneath them. Without looking down, Deron glided forward along with the group.
As they descended, the fog thickened around them. Fog obstructed his vision and swallowed them entirely. Only black silhouettes and pale green light were visible in the fog.
Deron kept his ears open and hoped nothing came for him. He also hoped for the voice not to return.
…
A few hours had passed, Deron's shoulder ached, and he felt sharp pain all over his wings. Neg was still unconscious; however, her breath was calm, and her legs had stopped bleeding. Fiend's body was impressive; even if they lose their limbs, they will not bleed out to death. Instead, their blood clotted at a very high speed.
So, Deron did not worry about her death. His eyes swept the other bandits' faces. His sight was met with half-closed eyes, pale faces. It was evident from their expression that they, too, felt what Deron felt.
But they had only managed to scale half of the wall. Deron knew he had to stay composed; if he lost his composure and fell down, he would not die. However, he will definitely break a limb or two.
They still had to glide for a few more hours before reaching the ground. Deron's eyes could no longer see the clear silhouettes, either; everything was blurry.
Deron narrowed his eyes, but it was still blurry. However, the air was no longer thick. So at least his tongue no longer had to taste scorched earth for every few minutes.
With every passing minute, Deron's body swayed. His wings now weighed more than Neg. Every inch on his upper body ached. His breath picked up again, and he started sounding like a pack mule hauling a dozen bags.
A few more hours…
Deron endured the pain and kept gliding along with his group.
…
Finally, they reached the ground after gliding for a couple more hours. Deron's boot met the cold, darkened stone ground with a soft thud. His face finally loosened as his feet gave up, and he knelt on the ground.
With a deep inhale, he retracted his wings. It felt good. His upper body no longer felt heavy, and the pain that spread across his wings now lessened.
He carefully untied the knot and let Neg sit on the ground, and he let his body slump onto the stone ground. Fog swallowed them. It was thick; everything around him was milky.
Deron knew that at any time something might attack. But he did not care; all he could think of was to sleep.
Soft thuds echoed around him as the other bandits landed. Deron lay on the stone beside Neg, and his breath finally began to slow down.
For a few moments, Deron's eyelids closed. With a heavy sigh, he sat up.
He fumbled with his pack, his fingers stiff and trembling, and pulled out the leather-sleeved bottle. The pop of the cork felt deafening in the heavy silence. He tilted the bottle, letting a few droplets of lukewarm water splash onto Neg's pale face.
Her breath hitched. A low, ragged moan escaped her lips as her eyes twitched open. Her red pupils were hazy at first, wandering through the grey void before finally locking onto Deron.
A soft whisper escaped her lips.
"Deron."
Deron took Neg into his arms and embraced her; the warmth shared between them was soothing. Their heartbeats echoed between then their bodies pressed tight for a few minutes.
Deron rubbed his mate's back gently as he buried her head into his neck. He knew he had to answer for her leg in the next few moments.
However, Neg grunted and tightened her face. Deron realised she finally felt the pain.
She pulled away and looked at her clotted stump of a leg; the colour on her face drained as she realised it. Her hands twitched as he tried to touch the leg she used to have, but her arms waved in the air.
Neg's jaw parted wide, as her eyes widened. Deron could not bear the look on her face. With a sigh, he spoke in a low voice.
"I am sorry, I had to do it. You were turning into glass"
Deron looked down at the stone road. He could not meet her eyes. So it was better to look down.
Neg sat in silence; she no longer looked at him. For fiends, it was better to die than live a life of uselessness.
However, behind him, he could hear a commotion going on. The loud voices of his bandmates reached his ear.
"You stillborn! You killed him for nothing!"
"Then what else do you want me to do? Die with me?"
The bickering behind him carried on as Deron ignored it and looked forward.
An hour has passed as the bandits moved forward into the city, and the milky fog around him obstructed everything. Deron carried Neg on his back as she slumped her head without speaking.
Deron looked around; he could only see the black stone road before him. Now and then, a scorched crooked figure met his gaze, only to turn out to be a metal lantern post. Sometimes, a pale green light emitted from a far distance.
Except for the footsteps, nothing else reached them. The silence was deafening. Deron simply walked forward; surprisingly, the voice in his head was silent. Maybe for once it sympathised with him.
However, a hard thud tore through the silence. Somewhere in front of him, heavy footsteps echoed in the fog.
Deron and the bandits beside him halted. Ryne stood in front of him and spoke in a low tone.
"Be ready."
Thud-Thud-Thud.
A figure emerged out of a blurred turning, the black silhouette of which had a pale green light emitting from it.
Multiple branches emerged from the centre part of it; they twitched as they moved at an uneven pace. Deron hoped the apparition moved away, but it did not. It stood still in front of them and down the street.
Deron's heart beat grew loud; he could hear the others' heart beat too. His ear could sense the breath of Neg, even though she lifted her head.
The apparition finally turned toward them, its figure grew close as the footsteps grew louder.
Thud-Thud-Thud.
Quickly, Deron pulled out the schimitar on his belt, and everyone followed them. Everyone beside him now carried a weapon in their arm.
Ryne now carried a buckler and a rapier. With each step, the apparition's figure grew clearer.
Its head had an ever-screaming face, pale light emitting from its mouth and empty eye sockets.
Its skin was scorched, and a thick black skin covered its body and emitted pale green light. Its organs were visible through the skin.
The branches were its limbs; its crooked limbs had bone blades emerging through deformed palms.
Thud-Thud-Thud.
Its limbs twitched at an uneven pace.
Deron didn't think; he simply reacted. He shifted his weight, ensuring Neg was secure against his back before his hand clamped around the hilt of his scimitar. The cold steel felt like an extension of his arm. His breath slowed to a predatory crawl, his boots anchoring deep into the stone.
However, his voice in Deron's head spoke again.
Let's see what your superior race is capable of, gladiator…