The dizziness held him down, but Ewan rattled his head and resisted, and the walls supported him as he went out of the coliseum. His intention wasn’t to fight, it was to survive. Thus, he broke into a run as soon as he exited, racing away from the crazies. The jerks from the dash sent waves of pain down his body, but he bore it, he had no other choice.
Iris grabbed his hair and withstood the hissing wind while Orange and Frost matched his sprint.
A couple from the masked group turned to fire towards him; the muzzle belched. Ewan molded his blob of blood into a concaved shield and blocked it all, covering Orange and Frost too as they bolted. The bullets rained on the blood shield, the endless patters drowned his heaves, but the salvo couldn’t penetrate, they couldn’t even dent it. Yet, the fireworks of bullets sang an ominous melody, it would be life-threatening if it continued.
“Found one here!” One of the masked men yelled.
Ewan ignored the increasing aggro and barreled down the street to the nearest building, the game arcade. The number of people outside had decreased, breathing people, so Ewan became an easy target among the fallen.
The blood shield protected Ewan and his Astylinds and let him reach the arcade building unscathed. Orange sprung ahead and pulverized the blockaded gate with his explosive punches while Frost erected a large but immobile ice wall behind them. It would take some time for those outside to break this wall down and get in.
A large hall with ticket counters followed the entrance gate. White-tiled walls with dried streaks of mop, a red carpet with muddy footprints, and a large modernistic chandelier dangling from the ceiling. People huddled together in the corner, screaming, their faces bloodless. Some broke down in tears and snot, some screeched and crawled away when the gate broke.
The moment Ewan entered; a heavy stench of urine bombarded his nose. Someone peed in here, and it was more than one bladder. Ewan held his breath and vaulted over the security gate. This was the ground floor of the gaming arcade, a floor for physical games.
Lift’s door was ajar with fingerprint smudges on its edges struggling for purchase, and the lights were off. Its control panel was dark too. So, he climbed the stairs, skipping steps, floor after floor, and soon reached the top floor—the tenth floor—with his heartbeat calmer than he was. This floor had restaurants and fast-food joints lining the sides, this was the food court. Overturned chairs, flipped tables, broken menu boards, food spilled everywhere on the ground, and grease fire blazed unattended. The masks hadn’t reached here, yet the chaos had descended… After he punched the emergency button for the fire extinguishers, as the white sprayed down on the dancing flames, he wandered away. The sound of his clacking boots echoed on the empty floor, and his quiet breaths hummed with it.
Soon the smell of freshly baked bread grabbed him, a welcome change from the stench of gore. There was a bakery up ahead, its inside intact save for the shattered glass door, its frame dangling by the hinge. This was a good place to rest and heal. The glass shards crunched and screeched when he walked in.
The people hiding on the lower floors might satiate the masked group’s bloodthirst. And if they came here even after that, Ewan would have a choice of either fighting back or fleeing through the roof. His enhanced physique would help him in this.
“Keep watch,” he said to Orange and Frost, and chugged down the chilled water he took out from the fridge, the glass bottles clattering when he shut it. He also poured some on his face and head, drenching Iris too who shivered from the deluge of icy water.
…..
The intermittent explosions rattled the cutlery and shook the furniture. Ewan shielded the savory buttered garlic bread from the concrete powder and dust falling down the ceiling and tore a mouthful. He’d stored all the fresh bread from the curved glass display counter in his claw-ring and was now balancing the comfy chair on its rear, his legs stretched up on the table.
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Iris had already healed all his major wounds and was now snoozing inside the blood rune, leaving the minor wounds to heal on their own. Frost kept a diligent watch near the door, his tail held still, while Orange swung on the chandelier. Toast too was out of the wheel tattoo, wincing from their shared pain at times, and nibbled his own bread on Ewan’s stomach, leaving crumbs on his tattered sweatshirt and inner t-shirt.
Another explosion went off and cracks raced on the glass counter, the decorative painting fell from the wall, baring several holes that were trials for the final nail that held it. Ewan shook his head and clicked his tongue, how did these people get so many first-degree contrabands anyway, it was beyond him. The only theory that could explain the current situation was that someone supported these masked people, someone powerful enough to get them these weapons. This also explained why there had been no response from the law enforcers so far, the crazy black suits were unusually quiet, given the situation. The masked people were having a picnic today, free and unfettered, at the expense of other people’s lives.
Ewan chuckled; it wasn’t like he had the right to judge them. The blood and gore might’ve fazed him, but the deaths didn’t. Now that he was calm, he found himself unfeeling of the massacre. His survival was his only concern.
He savored another bite and connected to the hub using the connector. Obria was a mess and he needed to know why. The price for Obria’s information was one Novas, much cheaper than any other information listed. And once he read the paid content, the reason justified it.
‘Political unrest. The Crown might be dead. New update coming soon.’
His connection cut and he lurched forward on the chair, the front legs thudding down, startling Toast—the tiny bit of news shocked him.
Vidovik was dead, since when? And who controlled the colony then… He wanted some answers from the hub, yet it saw him off with more questions instead. It could be the defense force that ruled the colony now, as the second most powerful force after the Crown. There might’ve been a coup in Obria that the public didn’t know about, or they faced an external threat that had destroyed the colony’s structure...
There were some signs of instability in the colony in the recent years, give or take five years. Risen prices, increased violence, decreased security, higher death rate. But he always took it as bad management, everyone did. Who knew, things were this bad. Now the attack from the masked group didn’t look so mysterious. It must be a political move; someone wanted the colony to fall into chaos.
He leaned back and pondered. If the situation could reach this level, an open massacre with no response from the law enforcers, was staying in the colony worth it? But he only had his one home. Where would he go if not here? His Pa must’ve left him that huge basement to turn it into an earning source. Ewan planned to modify a part of it into a garden once he came back from his hunt. He could grow herbs and plants needed for potions and sell them for a profit. Yet, the current situation shook his plans.
Ewan sighed. He needed to think more about this decision. For now, getting out of this mess came first.
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Status: Injured | Hypovolemia
Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
Name: Ewan Ayres
Species: Human
Vitality: 1.3
Spirit: 4.0
Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]
Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
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Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
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Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
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Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]
Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.
Novas: 71
Sol: 25