Chapter 52: I’m the One Who Rings Death’s Bell, Part 6
War closed the door, plunging Sam into the darkness of the basement.
He supposed it could have been worse.
It wasn’t a musty, damp, or overly hot darkness. It was a well-kept basement at a comfortable temperature, but it was still his prison, damn it.
Sam gritted his teeth.
He twisted against the shackles once more.
He knew he would fail like he had failed so far, as nothing had changed, but he tried again anyway. He didn’t have much else to do or think about. And deep down, he knew that even if he managed to escape right now, it wouldn’t exactly be the ideal time.
War was out there with her dozens of soldiers, her puppets. She hadn’t said or suggested anything like it, but Sam was sure she could use them as her eyes and ears. Even if he broke the shackles and got out right now, carelessly and without a plan, he would simply be caught again in no time.
It was hard, being at this lowest point since he arrived in this world, but he had to calm down and use his damn head.
Everything had gone smoothly while he had limited himself to using his head, plotting one plan after another, any trace of apparent clumsiness or haste ultimately serving its purpose perfectly fitting into the puzzle he was building with his own hands. Since he lost control after Rose was killed and he reacted poorly, everything had gone from bad to worse.
Until he ended up like this, like a common prisoner.
Tied hand and foot, thrown into a dark basement like a sack of garbage. Yes, everything had started to go to hell since that moment. That’s why he had to keep a cool head, even though his blood screamed otherwise. Yes, it was a bit convenient to blame his demon blood for his decisions, but he would do it if he wanted to.
Sam thrashed against the shackles like a caged animal, and in his mind, he spun around and around like a dog chasing its tail.
The first point was something he had already established before.
He could by no means expect Violet and Christina to come help him. One thing was risking your neck for family, and quite another was throwing yourself into certain death, no matter how sentimental you were. Besides, War wasn’t stupid. She hadn’t told them the village, what it was called, or anything like that.
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How the hell were they supposed to track him without clues? Even if they wanted to try.
As for following him here, whatever this place was, he doubted it with Christina’s injury to her leg. She was risking losing her leg if she didn’t get medical attention; that seemed obvious at first glance, even to someone like him. It was a world of magic, so maybe someone could make her leg grow back like the limbs of a damn lizard, or heal it before that happened. But in any case, they needed to seek medical attention urgently, not follow him or do other foolish things.
And even if they could ask someone for help, the most rational option, the same problems applied double. Lost time, any trail that might have existed and he hadn’t seen being erased, trampled. By the time the cavalry arrived, all of this would be over, or they would find themselves in another village, or not at all. Or they would just arrive in time for War to massacre them.
In short, even in the best-case scenario, help would not be helpful at all.
He could only rely on himself.
The second point: just because it seemed that War had thrown him in this place without even putting guards on watch, showing no respect for his intelligence and danger, didn’t mean there wasn’t something there, watching him from the shadows. Invisible, intangible. Whatever the hell it was.
It just meant he couldn’t see his watchers at first glance, and few things were simple in this world or any other.
It could also be that there were guards placed right at the door; that sounded much simpler, but he wouldn’t dismiss the idea of an invisible watcher in the madness of the world he was in.
Third point: he couldn’t defeat War as he was now, and there was nothing wrong with that. He didn’t have to defeat her right now.
He wanted revenge, but if his goal for the moment had to be to escape to fight another day, he could accept that.
Sam gritted his teeth.
Yes, more or less.
All his plans went to hell in an instant. The basement door opened, and the person who entered was not War. Nor was it a puppet; it was clear at first glance that she was much more alive than those discarded shells.
There was excitement in her gaze, which he didn’t like at all.
She was a pretty woman, he had to admit. A thin white blouse and a long blue skirt. The style of her clothing was clearly out of place in this world, or at least in the small piece of it he had seen so far. A more modern style, using his world as a reference. She looked like a girl he could have seen any time he went out on the street. Ordinary except for her beauty.
Even so, he had no doubt she was dangerous.
Beyond the obvious—that everyone in this dead village was a danger to him—there was a clear sense. Like having a knife pressed against his back. He felt he would be torn apart if he breathed out of turn.
He locked onto that unease and spat out:
“Who the hell are you?”
“Guess,” she simply replied. “It’s not that hard.”
He wasn’t in the mood for riddles, but she was right; it wasn’t hard at all. Because unease wasn’t the only thing he felt when looking at her.
She was pretty, but not that much, deep down. She wasn’t even his type.
However, suddenly there was an overwhelming desire to throw her to the ground and take advantage of her until her body couldn’t handle it anymore. It wasn’t his usual lust. It was more like…
“Hunger.”
“Bingo. I’m here to rape you.”
Sam pulled back.
He was too surprised to feel offended or in danger.
I’m the One Who Rings Death’s Bell, Part 6: END