Book of Mors: Summoned

Arc: Knowledge is Power

Chapter 19, Part 1: Aftermath

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Mors' grin disappeared as he let out a lazy, sleep deprived yawn. Removing his foot from Bruce's chest, enabling the bearkin to take an unconscious breath, Mors glanced at the arena's board, noticing that he was the last competitor.

"But in the end, I will be, the last man standing." Mors chuckled at the unknown, yet familiar, song that resonated in his head, not realising if he had looked at the board moments earlier, he would have seen that he wasn't the only competitor left.

Letting out a deep breath as his body relaxed, Mors' skin prickled causing him to turn and see Verz, staring at him intently. Her eyes were sparking and, although he had not known her long, he was aware that it was a bad sign. "So much for being low-key. Still, I got to have some fun and let off some steam."

There was no clapping of cheers from the crowd, giving the stadium an eerie feeling, especially as the terrifying aura had scared the surrounding area into silence. Most of the spectators were embroiled in quiet, almost silent, debates or helping their companions that had fainted.

The quiet suited Mors perfectly. The lack of sleep, losing control, and then the sudden loss of power when the barrier collapsed had completely drained him, leaving him with a crippling headache.

Deciding that the first course of action would be to find somewhere comfy to sleep, preferably high and well hidden, Mors started to walk towards the arena exit.

As he walked, Mors stumbled on the rubble that was once a wall.

"And the winner is... a small pebble!" Mors shook his head, thinking about how pitiful it would be if he tripped and knocked himself out. "Not this time Mors. No passing out, Not getting carried off like a pansy. No near death experiences with the creepy ghost... things. Just walk out, find somewhere to sleep, rinse and repeat."

Mors abruptly stops as a hand landed on his shoulder, the weight almost causing his knees to buckle. "Brat, I think we need to have a little chat. Follow me."

"Bah, guess it was stupid to think I was going to get away with that cheap shot,"  thought Mors, a smile creeping onto his lips. "Still, totally worth it. Bitch demoness - 58ish, Mors - 1... for now. It's not like I am keeping score."

Kelora walked past Mors and then, realising she wasn't being followed, she turned around, revealing a wicked grin as she placed a hand on her hip. "Don't play hard to get with a demoness. It never ends well."

Mors shuddered, not because of her smile or the suggestive thoughts that came with her seductive voice, but due to her eyes. Opposite to her countenance, Kelora's eyes seemed, at least to Mors, full of genuine concern which startled the young demon.

Murderous intent, hatred, contempt, fear, Mors could deal with, but now she was looking at him with concern, he didn't know how to respond. Thankfully for him, he didn't need to.

"BRUCE!" A high pitched screeched tore Mors from his stupor as he turned to see a lamia, her red scaled lower half glistening slightly in the sunlight, curling over Bruces' body. Her red hair was tied back in a braid, displaying her pointy ears as tears streamed down her face, causing Mors to roll his eyes. "He's unconscious, not dead."

She was quickly pushed off as two huntsmen, silver bands on their right arms, appeared next to Bruce and started checking his vitals.

After an initial check, the two huntsmen sagged in relief. "Few minor injuries and broken bones. Passed out and... soiled himself. Two to three weeks recovery time."

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Mors swore he could hear a snigger from the other huntsmen and judging from the scornful glare the man got from the lamia; he hadn't misheard.

Relieved that Bruce was OK, even if he had disgraced himself, the Lamia raised herself on her tail and released a death glare at Mors. Weirdly, it made him feel much better, at least compared to the look he received from Kelora.

"You did this?" hissed the girl, small flames flickering over her hands.

"Ummm," Mors was at a loss. "No shit Sherlock. Of course, I did this. Were you dropped when you were an egg or are you just blind?"

A look of confusion passed over everyone's face, including Mors, who had no idea what a Sherlock was or why he had to launch into insult mode immediately. He just wanted to get some sleep, not start round two.

"Meh, I know there are no stupid questions, but that one was taking the biscuit." Mors' stomach rumbled, reminding him he was famished not just tired.

As Mors was about to turn away, he realised that even if he wasn't looking, he could tell exactly where the lamia was and roughly, what she felt. Frowning, he studied the girl's face, scarlet with rage, before everything started to come together. "You're Ethm-"

"Do. Not. Speak. Her. Name," roared the lamia, her face almost as red as her scales.

Mors could not finish his sentence, his lazy expression immediately turning to one of hostility. "Damn, is this the power of that bond, contract thing? Not even able to say that name. Time to leave before I have to break my vow and get me some snakeskin boots."

Mors hesitated a moment. "Scrap that, the thought is actually quiet repulsive."

"First you kill our mom, then you cowardly ambush my boyfriend in that black dome of your's and make him disgrace himself! Are you out to ruin my life? You son of a slime." The lamia looked like she was ready for a fight.

"I'm pretty sure he was the one that shit himself and, nope, I don't even know who you are, and after this, I doubt I will remember so don't bother telling me your name." Mors' eye twitched as he realised he was just making things worse for himself. "Not everything is about you princess. Look after your hairball of a boyfriend before he gets turned into a rug and forget we ever met."

"For the love of God Mors!, why can't you keep your mouth shut," thought Mors as he turned around, deciding that he was just making things worse. "I need to find out more about these contracts before I put my foot in the deep end. At least it seems like she doesn't know about it."

Mors glanced towards where Verz was previously and noticed she was gone. "Well, at least one pain is missing." His thoughts were short lived as he spotted Kelora still waiting, with what seemed to be a look of irritation. "Don't you have kittens to drown or something demonic to do?"

Kelora frowned, "I have no idea where you keep getting these preconceptions from? Why would I drown a kitten?"

As Mors past her, she moved to walked beside him before speaking in little more than a whisper. "Don't tell the beastkin this, but kittens do taste pretty good."

Mors couldn't help but chuckle. For some reason, his common sense on things, the bits of information he just somehow had, were often wrong but at the same time, not too far from the truth.

"So," said Mors in a tired tone. "What's with the change in attitude? Discovered how awesome I am and trying to win my favour?"

"Not in the slightest," laughed Kelora, which once again putting Mors on guard, expecting some sort of severe retaliation and not a lighthearted laugh. "Let's just say that you have earned some respect for that fluke of a hit you got in and sending for that lump of stone flying. Unlike the stories people like to tell, demons aren't sore losers and once we feel someone is worthy, we aren't that bad to be around."

She tilted her head as she looked at Mors, her smile growing "Well, the one's without the sin of wrath and pride anyway."

"Jealous?" Mors spoke before he could even think. "Am I not happy until I am beaten to a bloody pulp?"

Kelora laughed, which would have been somewhat enticing if she hadn't beaten Mors unconscious on numerous occasions. "Hell no. You're like a walking time bomb that can be triggered by pretty much anything. You're just fun to watch. It's like watching a mouse take on a tiger and by some miracle, survive."

Instead of getting irritated, Mors only felt a little depressed. "Tell me about it. It's like I am bloody cursed."

Kelora's smile vanished as her fist slammed into Mors, stomach, making him take a few steps back. "Don't ruin the mood. Damn, you were finally starting to act like a real demon and then you had to get all mopy."

After staggering back a few steps, Mors straightened, a murderous glint in his eye. "Oh, I am sure I could level out your swollen face somewhat, maybe even knock a few teeth out to complete the look."

Kelora shrugged and turned around before disappearing into the arena's tunnel. "Much better. Least I know there is some bite behind that bark."

While this had been going on, the red lamia continued to glare at the back of Mors' head, muttering under her breath until he disappeared into the exit tunnel. Turning around and returning to Bruce's side. Watching the medics patch him up enough to move to the infirmary, her fists tightened. "I won't forget this, Mors Letus. I will make you pay."