Nothing happens. As each second drags on, the tense atmosphere feels like an executioner’s blade. The blade above their neck ready to swing in the next moment. Time seems frozen, and yet ticks on all the same. And still; nothing happens.
“It must be a false alarm.” Meize whispers. Ambrose ignores him, continuing to watch the door. Another minute passes. Then another.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Anastasia breaks the silence again. “There’s nothing outside.” Ambrose looks at her, but continues to remain quiet. She listens to the world outside. The cool breeze flows past the shack, playing a lonely song across its decayed wood. The grass weaves back and forth in its strength, soft but piercing to her ears. Insects echo out across the night sky no different from before. And still, Ambrose waits.
The slightest breath. Ambrose rams her shoulder against the door, sending it flying outward alongside the grunt of a large body. She rolls forward, her eyes peeking left and right before she jumps up and wraps her head around the shoddy wood sticking above.
Ambrose heaves herself upward as the swish of cold metal rings just below her. Her handhold gives way at her weight but she still steps above, carefully balancing her weight on the precarious wooden roof. With his own roar Meize comes crashing out after Ambrose. His eyes catch the vague outline of a figure still recovering from his swing and he rams his fist into their side, launching them three inches deep into the dirt.
“Two on the left.” Ambrose calls out. Meize swings his arms around and steps back, carefully weighing the metallic edges that glint even in the pale red glow of the moon above.
Ambrose maintains her balance as she reaches to her waist and draws out The Magician. She weighs it carefully as she stares at the darkness covering their enemies. Then, with her eyes closed, she focuses on the card. It glows softly, the magician’s smile inside the card growing wider still as she turns to stare at Ambrose, before the card lights up in a flash and burns away to nothing.
When Ambrose snaps her eyes open, the world lights up around her. Almost blinding, it reveals everything in her surroundings. She stares as the figures reveal themselves. Human. Villagers. Their clothes are worn down and tattered, with swallow skin and sunken eyes, holding a mix of everyday tools in their hands from wheat scythes to wood-chopping axes. Ambrose does a full circle, her feet being careful to press only slightly into the roof’s surface, as she observes the fields around them. A small wave of exhaustion rolls over her but she ignores it.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“There’s six of them.” Ambrose calls out, growing solemn as she stares out at the wide expanse. “Another four are hiding further away.” Meize is still holding back the two in front of them. Their weapons cut into his arms, but barely leave scratches with each slash.
Bunny steps out to the side of Meize and raises her staff with a flash of light. The two villagers swing their weapons toward Meize again but miss, digging their blades into the grass. Meize roars and presses forward, slamming a fist into the side of one of them. A heavy crack echoes out as it collapses, before he swings again, and the left side of the villager breaks away as they’re sent crashing into the ground.
“Call me a coward again.” Meize spits at Bunny.
“Coward.” Bunny sings as she steps around him.
“Bitch.” Meize grunts, giving his arms a shake. “I need a moment.” Anastasia steps out of the house after them, her eyes catching on the villager’s weapons.
“I think I’ve got it.” Anastasia mutters to herself as she walks over, taking hold of one of the scythe’s. Her eyes light up. “Oh, I’ve got a good one this time. I’ll handle the next one.”
“Good.” Meize says.
“Two more coming around the house’s left side.” Ambrose calls out. As she speaks Anastasia turns to see a silent villager moving toward them.
“Here we go.” Anastasia mutters. She takes a step toward the villager, watching it carefully. Its eyes are lusterless, its body moving quickly but in predictable motions. Soulless is the word Anastasia would describe it as.
Its blade swings toward her, and Anastasia steps up and swings her own. The blades meet and a metallic screech echoes out as they struggle against each other. Then she pushes again and a small boom echoes from the blade. It throws the villager’s weight backwards, sending it careening as Anastasia takes another step and slices her blade through its body. It falls and goes still.
Ambrose spares one last glance as the three turn on the final villager. She takes another step across the roof and jumps, sailing down to the opposite side of the house. She lands on the ground and immediately swings around, her fist slamming into another of the strange villagers.
“That’s unnatural.” Ambrose frowns as she feels her fist hit something far too solid. The villager looks down at her and brings its weapon up, swinging down. Ambrose steps to its right and grabs its arms, restricting its movements as she drags its weapon’s direction to its partner coming up on the side. The scythe goes right through its stomach, before Ambrose whirls around and cuts across the remaining villager’s body. Both of them collapse and Ambrose carefully observes as their body splits apart.
“Normal. Normal.” Ambrose mutters as she watches its guts spill out. Her nose wrinkles at the sight, but she maintains her focuses. “Not normal.” She catches sight of something red. Ambrose grabs the blade again and digs it through the viscous liquid. After a few moments the red object is revealed.
She drags it away from the rest of the villager’s remains. Cutting a piece of cloth from the villager's clothes, Ambrose reaches down and picks it up gingerly as she observes its structure.