"This loon is crazier than a bag o' ferrets."
Kelzar watched as the man stoked the flames surrounding the house. The enforcer's face was unrecognizable; the tissue and muscles around his face were clearly visible, with deep gashes and bloody wounds covering his forehead and cheek. His eyelids were gone, having been ripped off in his attempt to remove the glue off his face. Even his hands were not unscathed.
With only one health potion, the man couldn't repair all the disfigurements done to his face and was left scarred. The bloodhound warned him that if he didn't reach a doctor soon, the damage would likely be permanent. But the man was too far gone to consider anything other than immediate retaliation.
Oliver panted madly, throwing nearby materials to intensify the flames surrounding the house. Every once in a while, he would strike at the wall, tearing out a chunk with his monstrous strength. The damage dealt to him was enough to activate his Berserker skills. His eyes, absent of any eyelids, stared menacingly. His teeth were bared, grinding against each other. Portions of his face were beginning to regrow the skin, but it only served to make his appearance more frightening.
He looked closer to a demon than any of the inhabitants in Garbrandt.
The demihuman looked on, snout twitching slightly upon feeling the heat wash over his body. He didn't take part in the arson, drawing the line at setting homes on fire with children inside.
"I'm jist a tracker an' hunter, no' a bleedin' psycho." Kelzar muttered to himself, waiting patiently for the children to try and escape.
But he knew that if they did, a fate worse than burning alive awaited them.
----------------------------------------
Inside the house, all the children scrambled for a way out. Bentham and the others gathered all they could, keeping any flammable items away from the walls and throwing all the water supplies they had at the flames spewing from the cracks in the clay interior.
It had little effect. In fact, the water evaporated almost immediately, turning into steam and hissing violently. One of the children cried out in pain, straying too close to the resulting steam. He cradled a mild burn on his hand, forcing the older, injured orphan to corral them back into the center of the room.
As more and more cracks formed on the walls of the house, it allowed smoke to seep through.
"Guys! Stay low!" Sheila shouted, her eyes squinted as she struggled to keep them fully open in the rising heat. "The smoke is rising to the ceiling!"
All the children followed her, knowing she was more knowledgeable than anyone else in the room. With the orphans huddled together in a crowd, they hugged each other tightly. Bentham looked at their leader, Alvis, in desperation.
"We have to get out of here! Otherwise, we're fucking dead!"
Alvis gritted his teeth and made a break for the door. He grasped the first set of locks on the door before flinching violently at the unexpected heat coming off it.
KSH!
A portion of the wall exploded, revealing a set of bright orange flames crawling into the home. Bentham did his best to put the flames out using a damp shirt but to no avail.
'Fuck! The door's made of metal!'
It was the first time having multiple locks and mechanisms on the doors proved to be a double-edged sword. The brown-haired boy took off his shirt and used it as a protective layer against the heat, but it was only a small relief. The thin shirt could only do so much against the heated metal surface.
Alvis' body dripped with sweat, and he was completely devoted to his task knowing that multiple lives were on the line. As his hands blistered and the tips of his fingers were torched, he continued until the pain became unbearable.
"Argh!" The orphan was forced to take a break, clenching his hands into a fist to ease the burning sensation. He didn't take off the cloth, fearing the appearance of his appendages underneath.
Before he could continue, a person bumped into him and began continuing to break down the locks. Bentham cringed in agony but pressed on, knowing there was no time to delay.
"Sheila! The keys!"
The girl rummaged through her pockets and fished out a set of keys, which were required to fully unlock the door. Panic lacing her every movement, she began the process of opening the first lock; a thick, iron latch that had rusted from years of use.
Her face dropped, and Alvis watched as her movements became more and more frantic. It got to the point where she grabbed and shook the lock despite the intense heat burning her fingers.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Th-the lock-!" She stammered. "The keys don't work!"
Alvis wheezed and coughed, moving Sheila away and trying it himself. He believed for a moment that she may have used the wrong key in the heat of the moment, but he withdrew it and could see the edges of the key itself beginning to warp.
"Fuck! FUCK!" Alvis pushed through the panel on the ceiling where their hammer trap was. His adrenaline spiked to an all-time high. The flimsy contraption held together by nails, wires, and rope broke apart and he dropped back down with the hammer in his hand.
Letting out a scream, he struck the two locks. Alvis worked with a maddened frenzy, pushing his body past its limits. But every strike did minimal damage to the thick latches on the door.
After several seconds, he was forced to stop. His arms felt like lead. Looking at the others behind him, he could see the resignation on their faces. Tearful expressions, as the children he spent his days with realized they would meet their end in the fiery inferno. Bentham, whose wounds have yet to be treated, seemed to give up completely as well. Sheila had broken down, crying on the floor as she held the children tighter.
"HELP!" The boy shouted. Much of the clay lining the walls had broken apart and crumbled, revealing the concrete underneath. The flames had entered the building and slowly made their way into the center where the group of orphans lay.
With smoke filling his lungs, and burns throughout his body, he swung the hammer once more. Fire nipped at his limbs, making it so that being near the walls was a hazard in of itself.
"PLEASE!"
He threw his entire body weight into each strike, even when his joints creaked and muscles split. The boy could barely see in front of him, and his eyes were beginning to dry out from the intensity of the heat surrounding him.
"SAVE US!" Alvis shouted hoarsely, his vocal cords damaged after screaming and yelling for so long.
The teen fell to his knees, slowly succumbing to despair and hopelessness after his body gave out. He had nothing left to give. But through the crackling flames and crumbling debris, he could hear a certain noise through it all.
Laughter.
Sickening, terribly evil laughter.
"I'LL COOPERATE!" Alvis said hoarsely. He knew that even if the chance was slim, he hoped that surrendering would be enough for the insane enforcer to set them free. "PLEASE! OPEN THE DOOR!"
The laugh intensified, being audible despite their surroundings. The teen raised his head with all his might, before collapsing entirely onto the floor.
"You fucks! This is what you get! Die! DIE!"
Enforcer Wood's yells carried so much anger and hate, Alvis could picture his visage clearly as he spat out those words. For a brief moment, resentment built up in his stomach towards Chester and Damien. But it quickly deflated as he realized they were right; they had no right interfering in their business. The children were too weak. Too vulnerable against forces who wished ill upon them.
'I'm sorry.'
Sheila ran up to the boy, trying to pull him back to safety. She gasped at the splotches of burnt skin surrounding his body, as well as his mangled hands. He blearily opened his eyes to her tears dripping down onto his forehead.
"Come on, Alvis. You're not dying first. You've got a reputation to keep."
Bentham, barely managing to pull himself together, showcased a grim smile. He helped to pull their leader back into safety with his one good arm, before falling down onto the floor.
As the fires raged around them and chunks of concrete collapsed where Alvis had collapsed, it ultimately sealed their fate. Bentham pressed his head onto the brown-haired boy's body, hiding his expression from view. But sudden wetness on his arm and Bentham's shaking back allowed Alvis to realize that his long-time friend was sobbing.
"Bent...Bentham..."
"Huh-?" Bentham raised his head and hurriedly wiped his face and nose. "What?"
"You crybaby bastard...Your-" The boy's scarred lip turned upwards into a weak smile. "Your tears are stinging my burns."
Despite the situation they were in, Bentham cracked a stupid smile and punched him lightly on the shoulder, so as to not cause pain. Sheila sniffled and giggled slightly, torn between breaking down into fits of laughter or tears. Even the younger girls and boys who couldn't do much in the situation dragged themselves a little closer to where Alvis lay. He met their eyes and the boy felt guilt crushing him once more.
'Jacky, Cedric, Edward, Finn, Jasper, Carl...'
They had all come together, sharing stories of their past lives and dreaming of a future beyond the cobbled streets Nine orphans who only had each other as family. Their support system in a world that has forgotten them. Through thick and thin, they laughed, cried, and fought as one. They knew that they could depend on each other, even when the rest of the world had turned its back on them. The streets were unforgiving, but they faced them together, united in their struggle to survive. In a city that was full of danger and uncertainty, they were each other's only constant.
And for a brief time, it looked like their fate had changed for the better with the presence of the two adventurers who saved their lives.
But it was all coming to an end, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The acrid, bitter smoke filled his lungs and he hacked violently. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him. His body was in great pain, and Alvis slowed his breathing as everything seemed to fade away. The others held each other closely, inching away from the fires raging all around, before-
BOOM!
An ear-shattering explosion occurred somewhere close by. It was enough to rattle Alvis' skull and open his eyes. All he could see was smoke. Sheila and Bentham were watching over his prone body, keeping their heads low in response to the noise. It was likely a chunk of the wall had collapsed as the building materials crumbled away to ashes.
Warning! Your HP is below 20%!
The blue notification popped up in front of him. But past the transparent screen, he spotted small pieces of debris falling down where Sheila's head was. Alvis moved the moment he saw the shadow of a large chunk making a beeline toward the unaware girl.
It was as if everything was in slow-motion. He didn't even know how he got up; one moment he was on the floor, the next he had thrown himself to cover the girl from the crumbling concrete pieces falling from the ceiling. He shut his eyes, expecting the next few seconds to be his last, but nothing came.
"You-" An older man's voice cut through the noise, coughing after an unhealthy amount of smoke entered his system. "You guys okay?"
"CHESTER!"
Alvis opened his eyes to see Chester appear from nowhere, wincing slightly as he held up a massive, iridescent shield that neatly covered the place where the children were sitting. Chunks of debris slid down, and the orphan couldn't believe the man had made it in time to rescue them. All the other children blearily raised their heads, eyes lighting up in recognition as they saw the curly-haired man protecting them from the crumbling ruins of their home.
"Uh, guys, not to rush you, but we gotta get the fuck out of here!" The illusionist shouted hurriedly. "Follow me! I made a path through the back wall!"
Given a single ray of hope, all the children moved rapidly. They pulled themselves together, supporting each other, ensuring no one was left behind. Sheila shouldered Bentham, gritting her teeth as the boy lost the strength to walk some time ago.
Together as a group, they cautiously navigated through the burning house. Chester failed to keep the expression off his face as he remembered the maniacal laughter from outside. Veins on his neck pulsed as he saw the figure feeding the flames outside of the home. But he knew it was being taken care of.
'Damien, you have better killed that guy by now. Or I'll do it myself.'