Chapter 34

Amidst the muted illumination of the burgundy corridor, 621 stood before a sealed door, its surface worn and weathered from years of neglect. The constant knocking echoed through the hallway, a steady rhythm that seemed to reverberate through the very walls themselves.

After a moment's hesitation, 621 decided to respond to the persistent summons. His voice, cool and measured, cut through the silence like a blade as he uttered a simple "Hello" in response to the unseen entity on the other side.

For a few heartbeats, there was nothing but silence, the air thick with anticipation as if the entity on the other side hadn't expected a reply. Then, as if startled by 621's unexpected response, a voice sounded from beyond the door—a voice weathered by age and burdened with a hint of desperation.

"Hey, kid! Open the door, won't you?" the voice pleaded, its tone a curious mix of calm reassurance and underlying urgency. Despite the strangeness of the request, there was an undeniable sincerity in the old man's words that gave 621 pause.

"Why?" 621 responded, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected encounter. There was a note of skepticism in his voice, a subtle hint of suspicion as he sought to understand the motives behind the individual's request.

“What do you mean why? Just open the door and help me out young’un”, The old man's response was shrouded in annoyance as if it were common sense to let him out. “Have you no manners? If an elderly person asks you to help, you’d do it without question won’t you?”

621 thought for a moment, contemplating the thoughts of the man behind the door, truth be told he wasn’t sure if it was normal to help out the elderly if one asked of him; all he saw were potential targets.

“What if I don’t want to?” he then replied indifferently.

Silence ensued as if the presence behind the door tried to piece together what had just been said.

“What?...fucking kids these days have no respect, just what is life at this point?”, the man mumbled in hushed tones but 621 with his heightened senses still heard the man’s muted rambling.

"Ah, but my dear boy," he began, his words laced with a sly undertone, "surely you wouldn't want to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime, would you? Beyond this door lies a reward unlike any other, just waiting for someone bold enough to claim it."

621 remained unmotivated, his expression impassive as he scrutinized the old man's words. "What kind of reward?" he inquired; his tone still laced with skepticism.

"Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" the old man replied coyly, his voice dripping with calculated ambiguity. "But rest assured, kid, it is something truly extraordinary, something that will change your life forever!"

"And what if I don’t want it?" 621 remarked coolly, his voice betraying no hint of emotion, though internally he was amused.

The old man's demeanor faltered slightly, a flicker of frustration crossing over him before he regained his composure. "Ah, but you misunderstand, my dear boy," he said smoothly, his tone oozing with false sincerity.

"I assure you, the reward is very unique, an opportunity. But if you choose not to open the door, well... you may never know what wonders await you."

621 tilted his head before replying decisively, “I'm good, you can keep it for yourself.” He stepped away from the door seemingly eager to inspect the other chambers down the corridor.

However, before he could truly walk away, the old man's tone shifted, a note of desperation creeping into his voice as he called out to 621. "Kid! Wait, wait!" he exclaimed, his words laced with urgency.

621 paused, casting a sidelong glance at the sealed door before turning his attention back to the presence shrouded behind it. His expression remained stoic, betraying none of the curiosity that undoubtedly stirred within him.

"What is it now?" he asked, his tone betraying no hint of patience.

The old man seemed to gather himself, his demeanor shifting once more as he adopted a more conciliatory tone. "I understand your caution, my boy," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading. "But please, just hear me out. There's so much more at stake here than you realize."

Despite the old man's words, 621 remained unmoved, his resolve unshaken. "But, I've heard enough," he replied curtly, his gaze flickering back to the sealed door.

The old man's tone took on a note of urgency as he pleaded with 621. "Don't be like that," he implored tersely, desperation evident in his voice. "I can help you!"

621 paused, considering the old man's words. His curiosity piqued, he decided to entertain the conversation further. "With what?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"With your escape!" the old man exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement. "You were brought here by that man, weren't you?"

621 hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he nodded in agreement. "Yes," he admitted, playing along with the old man's narrative.

A flicker of relief crossed the old man's voice at 621's confirmation. "So, we're on the same side, young'un," he declared eagerly. "Just open the door already!"

The urgency in the old man's voice was palpable as he pleaded with 621 to act swiftly. "Quick! Before he comes," he urged, his tone laced with desperation. "Don't you know what will happen to us? To you?"

621 remained silent, his expression unreadable as he contemplated the old man's words. "No," he replied curtly, his indifference apparent.

The old man's desperation seemed to heighten as he implored 621 to understand their predicament. "Look around, kid!" he urged, his voice tinged with frustration. "Don't you know where we are? Are you blind or something?"

Despite the old man's insistence, 621 remained unmoved, his expression betraying little emotion. He surveyed his surroundings calmly, taking in the dimly lit corridor and the sealed door before him, in fact, he knew exactly where he was.

"No, I don't," 621 replied coolly, his tone unwavering. "Yes, I'm blind," he added confidently, feigning ignorance to the old man's urgency.

The old man's frustration boiled over as he pleaded with 621 to release him.

"Oh, dear heavens! Just let me out, punk! You need me more than I need you!" he cried indignantly; his desperation clear in his voice.

But 621 remained unmoved by the old man's pleas, his curiosity overriding any sense of obligation. "Who is he?" he questioned, his curiosity piqued.

The old man's frustration only seemed to escalate at 621's nonchalant persistence. "We don't have time for this, idiot! Open the damn door!" he snarled, his impatience evident.

However, 621 remained resolute in his decision, his confidence unwavering. "Then, I don't want to. I'll just escape on my own," he replied confidently, though inwardly amused by the old man's desperation.

Defeated, the old man's frustration was palpable as he begrudgingly agreed to explain. "Fine!" he exclaimed with extreme annoyance, his tone dripping with irritation.

"You want to waste time and jeopardize our chances of escaping? Fine by me!" he continued, his voice laced with bitterness.

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"He is the devil incarnate himself, a man who specializes in human experiments; a bishop from the Order of Shadows, curse be upon them, the blasphemous fiends," the old man explained through gritted teeth, his disdain evident.

"And we are trapped somewhere in one of their many bases," he added with a heavy sigh, his indignation seeping through the door.

"Do you understand now, punk?" the old man demanded, his frustration evident. "So please do tell me how you would endeavor in escaping on your own when you don't know anything!" he challenged, his tone harsh and unforgiving.

“And you’re blind!” he finalized with a mumbled curse.

621 absorbed the man's rant for a couple of moments, his expression unreadable as he pondered the implications of the conversation. Sensing the old man's frustration, he decided to press further, his curiosity piqued.

"Who are you?" 621 asked calmly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

The old man, exasperated by the question, retorted with a hint of annoyance, "Who am I? Who are you!?" His tone conveyed a sense of resignation, as if he had grown tired of the exchange.

Unfazed, 621 responded with indifference, "Me? I'm Frank," he declared, pausing for effect before adding, "Frank Nolan."

A deep sigh emanated from behind the door, the sound heavy with the weight of regret. "I'm Garion..." the old man replied slowly, his voice tinged with sadness, "Garion Dacre...though I fear that name has lost all meaning."

There was a hint of nostalgia in his tone, as if he was reminiscing about a bygone era. "A long time has passed after all," he added wistfully.

621 attempted to decipher the hidden implications behind the old man's words, he couldn't shake the feeling of melancholy that seemed to linger in the air. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Garion," he replied, though his words felt hollow, lacking the warmth of genuine sentiment.

"It's Sir Garion..." the old man corrected in a hushed tone, his voice barely audible. "Never mind that, how the hell did you escape your chamber, kid?" he pressed on, his curiosity suddenly piqued.

621 paused for a moment, considering his response. "The door was open, and I simply walked out," he replied casually, as if escaping confinement was a mundane task.

Silence enveloped the odd exchange as Garion processed 621's nonchalant reply. "There weren't any seals? No traps? No nothing?" he asked incredulously, his disbelief palpable.

"Not that I recall of, no," 621 confirmed, his confusion evident in his tone.

Another deep sigh echoed from behind the door. "Ah, it's useless then..." Garion lamented, his disappointment evident. "You probably can't even open this door," he muttered, his tone tinged with resignation.

With a harsh knock against the door, he emphasized his point. "You're just a blind fool," he added disappointingly, his words laced with sorrow. "Heed my advice, kid. Try and escape with your everything. At least, that would be better than the inevitable."

"Go now! And if you do escape, please report to the messengers of light, tell them my name! GO!" he shouted suddenly, as if sensing something urgent.

621 felt utterly perplexed by the old man's insistence, but he simply nodded and turned away from the sealed door. His destination wasn't the exit; instead, he headed towards another chamber, his mind buzzing with questions and uncertainties.

621 stood before another sealed door, his gaze fixed upon it expectantly. Unlike the encounter with Garion, this time there was no sound emanating from beyond the door—just an eerie silence that seemed to hang heavy in the air.

Daring to question Garion's remarks, 621 tentatively placed his hand on the door and pushed, hoping it would yield to his touch. To his dismay, the door remained firmly sealed, unmoved by his efforts. Undeterred, he applied more force, pushing with greater determination, but still, the door refused to budge, confirming Garion's assessment of his supposed inability.

Frustration gnawed at the edges of his mind, but 621 pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on his next course of action. He began to inspect the other chambers along the crimson hallway, but to his dismay, all of them were sealed shut, denying him access.

Just as he was about to abandon his search, his keen eyes caught sight of a door that was slightly ajar—a sliver of darkness peeking through the narrow gap. Intrigued, 621 approached cautiously, his senses on high alert. With a careful push, he nudged the door open, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, his guard still firmly in place, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Inside the chamber, 621's eyes fell upon a scene that deeply confounded him. The room was illuminated by the flickering blue light of torches mounted on the walls, casting eerie shadows that danced across the floor. A white stone table dominated the center of the room, its surface stained with dark splotches that hinted at its grisly purpose.

Upon the table lay a headless body, he recognized it almost immediately for it was the body of Vulture, the notorious criminal whose life had met a gruesome end at his very hands. The corpse was stretched out, its limbs splayed unnaturally, and its torso opened wide, revealing the cavity where its innards had once been housed.

What remained of Vulture's form was a macabre sight to behold. His flesh was pallid and sickly, mottled with patches of decay that marred his skin. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of old blood and the sickly sweet odor of decay.

Upon closer inspection, 621 noted the absence of Vulture's organs, leaving behind only a hollow shell of bones and desiccated flesh. It was a haunting sight, a stark reminder of the shopkeeper's gruesome practices and the fate that awaited those who crossed his path.

But, despite the brutality of the scene before him, 621 remained composed, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight with a sense of detached curiosity. It didn’t occur to him that he was in a similar circumstance to the body before him.

The meticulous precision with which Vulture's organs had been harvested spoke volumes about the shopkeeper's skill and expertise in the dark arts, leaving 621 both impressed and unnerved.

At the same time, there was a creeping sense of unease that settled over him as he gazed upon the lifeless shell of the once-notorious criminal. It was a sobering reminder of the fragility of life and the brutality of the world in which he found himself ensnared.

He couldn't help but wonder what fate awaited him if he were to fall into the shopkeeper's clutches, his mind conjuring up vivid images of his own body laid bare upon the cold stone table.

“Just what was his purpose in all this?” he pondered deeply, “why remove all his organs? Is this what it means to practice the taboo arts?”

The question echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain, casting doubt upon the path he had chosen to walk. He had always been drawn to the allure of power, to the promise of mastery over the arcane forces that lurked in the shadows.

The pursuit of power had undoubtedly consumed him, driving him to seek out forbidden knowledge and delve into dark practices that others dared not tread but something tangible forced him to think.

“Is all of this necessary?”

The question lingered in the air, hanging heavy with uncertainty. He had always believed that the ends justified the means, that any sacrifice was worth it in pursuit of his goals. But now, faced with the grotesque aftermath of his choices, he couldn't help but question whether there was another path he could have taken, whether there was a way to achieve his ambitions without descending into darkness.

Admittedly, 621 wasn't deeply horrified at what he was seeing at this point. In fact, all he felt was genuine curiosity, a strange fascination with the mysteries of life and death that lay before him. It was a tantalizing feeling that unsettled him, he couldn’t wrap his analytical mind to the feeling of distraught.

“Is this normal?”

The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of unease. He had always prided himself on his ability to remain detached and composed in the face of danger, but now, he found himself in a new territory, one that he couldn’t simply fathom.

Before he could even go further, 621's hazy thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind him.

"Catching up with friends, I see," the tone itself was laced with subtle amusement and a hint of mockery.

Whirling around, 621 found himself face to face with the shopkeeper, whose presence seemed to fill the room with an oppressive weight.

He stood before him with an air of casual indifference, his gaze piercing and inscrutable. His unkempt appearance, coupled with the faint glimmer of madness in his eyes, sent clear warnings deep inside 621's internal landscape, reminding him of the dangerous game he was playing.

"I don't recall asking you to peruse my very private chambers," the shopkeeper mused, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and malice. His gaze bore into 621 with an intensity that made the assassin's skin crawl, but he refused to back down.

With a steady voice that betrayed none of his inner turmoil, 621 reiterated that he had completed his assigned tasks and felt entitled to explore the chambers.

"I was sure you didn't disallow me from roaming afterwards", his words were laced with a quiet defiance, a subtle challenge to the latter’s authority.

The shopkeeper's response was a low chuckle that sent shivers down 621's spine. "Indeed, I didn't," he admitted, his tone affixed with amusement. "I swear you've got some of the biggest balls I've ever seen," he added, his grin widening into a predatory smirk.

Then the conversation took a darker turn as the shopkeeper’s demeanor shifted, his jovial facade slipping away to reveal some inclinations of the calculating mind beneath. "So, what do you think of your dear friend over there?" he asked, gesturing towards the headless body on the table with a casual flick of his hand.

"I had a blast opening him up as you can see," he added with a hearty laugh, the sound reverberating through the seemingly sound proofed walls.

But despite the shopkeeper's attempts to unsettle him, 621 remained unfazed. His expression remained stoic as he calmly replied,

"Nothing, I was just curious about his missing organs."

His words were carefully chosen, a subtle indication that he refused to be intimidated by the strange man’s menacing demeanor.

With a half-hearted chuckle, the shopkeeper brushed off 621's inquiry as if it were nothing more than idle curiosity.

"Oh, that?" he mused, his voice dripping with a strange mix of amusement and indifference.

"Just a little experiment," he added with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if the desecration of Vulture's body were no more significant than a mere trifle.

The cryptic nature of his response left 621 speechless, his mind whirling with unanswered questions. But before 621 could voice his concerns, the shopkeeper's tone shifted, his voice taking on a mysterious edge.

"You will find out soon enough."