Emil

Emil rushed towards the gate. Dale trailed closely from behind.

“Are they going for the battering rams?”

“No idea! But the entire gang suddenly started running towards the gates!”

The entire gang? Did they get impatient and decide to overwhelm us with numbers instead? It seemed unlikely. The move was too impulsive. It incurred too much casualties. Emil thought Elias was much more calculating given rumors of the Red Fang’s turf wars. Throwing lives away to brute force his way through was not how he fought.

What the hell are you planning, Elias?

Barricades were already being set up as Emil and Dale ran pass towards the sentry towers. Raz was shouting in the background, rounding everyone into positions. Emil sprinted up the ladder—his lungs burning by the time he reached the top.

The sentries on duty didn’t seem to have noticed him. Whatever was happening beneath dominated their attention.

“What’s going on?” he asked. The two sentries spun around. Their eyes were wide, shaking in horror like they had just witnessed something incomprehensible. They mumbled, stuttering something incoherent while pointing their trembling hands at the path below.

“Move!” Emil shoved them aside.

Below the sentry towers, the Red Fangs were desperately climbing over the rubble towards the gate. They kept glancing back—shouting obscenities as if they were running away from something.

The source of their fear seemed to be a single man. Alone. He was on the outskirts of the path, trudging slowly towards the Red Fangs. Emil shuddered. The hair on his skin rose. His mind stirred, suddenly overcome with an intense dread. He didn’t understand why, but watching the man’s ghoulish movements sent shivers down his spine.

In the midst of his confusion, he noticed black lumps littered around the man’s vicinity. There was a thick stench of char permeating the air—interwoven with a thick, fatty odour. It was not unlike meat being grilled on a firepit. It would be another second before he discovered how apt this comparison was.

Wait, those are—

Emil covered his mouth. His stomach churned at the disturbing realization. It took every ounce of his willpower not to throw up.

The black lumps around the man were corpses. Red Fang members. Dead. Incinerated until they were nearly unrecognizable.

The man suddenly screamed. Emil winced, plugging his ears. The loud, harrowing screech didn’t sound like something that could be made by a human.

Without warning, orbs of flames flared into existence. They orbited around the man’s body, flickering with an ominous incandescent glow. The man stomped forward. The flame orbs suddenly paused, hovering still as if frozen in time, before snapping towards the Red Fangs.

Screams pierced the air. The unfortunate members clawed at their bodies as flames devoured them with glee. In just a few seconds, their cries abruptly stopped. With a quiet thud, they fell—the remains of their bodies collapsed into a pile of ash.

Where did those flames come from?

Emil forced himself to not dwell on the horrific sight. He scanned the surroundings. There was nothing that could explain what he just saw. There was no ignition source, no tinder, nothing that the man could use to produce scorching flames with his bare hands. It didn’t make sense, unless—

The realization struck him like thunder. It was the only reasonable conclusion he could think of.

He’s an Exalted.

Exalted were special individuals with otherworldly powers that couldn’t be explained by logic. Emil didn’t know much about them, except that appearance wise, they were indistinguishable from normal Ordinaries like himself.

In the slums of Lower Dannan, the Exalted were a rarity—their existence something of a passing legend that he would occasionally hear amidst whispers on the streets. Emil never paid much attention to those rumors—they always seemed so far-fetched that he was sure they were exaggerated.

Seeing an Exalted up close, however, made him realize how wrong he was.

If anything, the rumors downplayed what they could do.

The remaining Red Fangs arrived at the foot of the gates. Emil glanced down, watching as they desperately banged against the door. The Exalted loomed close.

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“Open the damned gates!” It was Elias who yelled over the chaos. Their eyes met. Terror. Panic. The pleading glint in his gaze was unsettling. “Emil! Let us through!”

The Exalted continued his approach, now blocking off the exit out of the path that led to the compound. A deluge of burnt corpses laid in the wake of its rampage.

Questions flared in Emil’s head. Why was an Exalted here? Why was it doing all this? Was it seeking vengeance against the Red Fangs?

As the Exalted got closer, however, Emil understood. Its eyes were blood-shot with madness. Its skin was warped and wrinkled, smeared with an ominous blue glow as its veins popped onto the surface. Its expression was terrifying—its teeth bared like a feral beast; fangs protruded outwards, curved, tearing into its own jaws. Blood dripped from the self-inflicted wounds, drop by drop, leaving beneath a crimson trail.

The thing was no longer human. Whatever rationality left in the person was long devoured by insanity. What remained was a monster on a warpath—one that would not stop until it had burned itself out.

“…Tell everyone to evacuate,” Emil said. Dale and the sentries gawked at him, dumbfounded.

“Move! Tell everyone to leave! Now!” he screamed this time. The urgency in his voice jolted the boys out of their daze.

“A-Are you sure? What about the compound?”

“We can’t defend it. Not against that thing.” Emil grimaced at his own words, staring at the Exalted. “Use the emergency exit. Take whatever food you can grab. Leave everything else behind.” Most of it is going to be burned to ash anyways.

He grabbed a crossbow from one of the sentry’s hands. “I’m going to use the Red Fangs to buy us some time,” his voice shook as he uttered those horrific words, “Now go!”

Dale and the others scrambled down the sentry tower. Emil turned his attention back to the corridor. The Red Fangs began tossing themselves at the gate. The metal door creaked with a violent thud from every collision.

Emil loaded his crossbow and took aim at the largest member below. His hands wobbled. His heart screamed with guilt. It has to be done. He imagined Mia, Raz, and Dale being engulfed by the raging inferno—their screams piercing the air as their bodies melted to ash.

The possibility of that reality was all he needed.

I’m sorry.

He pulled the trigger. The crossbow clicked. The iron bolt soared through the air and plunged directly into the large teenager’s neck. Blood spurted like a geyser as he collapsed.

Emil immediately loaded the next bolt. His lack of hesitation startled him. The daily desperation to survive as an orphan eroded his sense of morality. These barbaric atrocities that he could have never fathomed himself doing, he now did so with ease.

As long as it was to survive.

As long as it was for his friends.

As long as he could find the justification, he could do anything.

“Emil!” Elias yelled from the foot of the gates, “What are you doing?!”

Emil responded with a snap of his crossbow. Elias ducked as the bolt narrowly missed its mark. Something seemed to click in his head as his desperate gaze twisted with fury.

“You bastard!” Despair and resentment clouded his blood-shot eyes. “I’ll kill you! I swear on it! Even if I’m dead, I will not forget this!”

Without warning, Elias spun around towards the Exalted. The monster in human form continued to dragged itself forward—a low, guttural growl escaped its throat with every step. Elias raised his hands skyward.

“Come! We’re breaking through! Follow me with the determination to die!” he screamed. The Red Fang members cried in response, rallying behind their leader’s desperate last stand. Elias charged, brandishing the machete he held aloft. His men followed close, intent not to let their leader face the monstrosity alone.

The Exalted paused, staring them down. Its eyes suddenly gleamed red. Emil watched as the space in the area began to vibrate, flickering with uncertainty as if it had a will of its own.

Suddenly, a high-pitch ring buzzed in his ears. Emil felt a surge of hot air rush towards him. For a moment, the heat was almost uncomforting, like a warm embrace from an old friend.

Then he saw white.

***

When he came to, he found himself staring at the wretched sky. His vision blurred. The air was thick with smoke. His eyes watered, irritated by the ash and soot. He was on the ground somewhere. Flames cackled over the dull ring in his ears as they devoured every inch of his surroundings.

Emil tried to pull himself up. His body, however, refused to cooperate.

Huh?

Confused, he glanced down. Oh. His lower half was a bloody mess. Most of his clothes had been incinerated to ash. The exposed skin beneath was on the verge of peeling from the intense heat. His left leg was disjointed—bent so unnaturally that it was nearly pointing backwards.

Did I fall from the sentry tower?

Emil searched for the gate. He found the sentry towers engulfed by flames. The gate had been destroyed—the door blasted off into smithereens, the broken remnants just barely hanging onto the hinges. The Red Fangs were nowhere to be see. In the midst of all the rampaging flames, Emil saw the Exalted. Slowly, it limped towards him.

Well, this is kind of terrible.

He smirked at his own calmness. He already accepted his fate. Emil couldn’t feel a single thing—not even the excruciating pain that have been screaming from his torn leg. Only a faint numbness frizzled along his body. His nerves must have been scorched by the heat.

How long has it been since he ordered Dale to evacuate? He couldn’t recall. Everything was a blur. As long as they made it out of here—

“Emil!”

He froze. Panic raced through his mind. Did he hear that correctly? Did someone call his name? No, I must be hallucinating. There’s no way they—

“Emil!”

This time it was unmistakable. It was Raz’s voice.

Emil forced his desecrated body to turn around. His jaws dropped in disbelief. Raz was standing atop of the burning ruins of the compound. His face was blacked with soot. Lingering behind the veil of flames and smoke, Emil could make out silhouettes of the other children.

He didn’t want to believe it.

Why?!

WhyWhyWhyWhy?!

Why are they still here?!

His heart wailed. They should have evacuated ages ago. Emil turned around. The Exalted was suddenly alert, its head twisted towards Raz’s direction.

“Leave! Run! Get out of here!” he tried to scream. But no sounds would come. His voice croaked. All he could produce were unintelligible gasps.

Please! Go before it’s too late!

Raz and the others didn’t understand, however. Suddenly, they were sprinting towards him, screaming his name frantically.

No! No! No!

Emil tried to wave them away, but it was already too late. Behind him, he could hear the Exalted cackling with glee.

The last thing he saw was his friends devoured by flames.