“I know you’re going to ask me if we’ve made any progress,” Bellona said in frustration, clenching her fist. “But we’ve made no progress; it’s like the man is a ghost.”

Sentarus rubbed his eyes, trying to handle the stress. “Yesterday was the last day of the week we were given; we’re out of time.”

“Trust me, I’m just as frustrated as you,” Bellona growled, slamming her fist against the wall, leaving a small crack in it.

“Do try and be like me and contain that frustration,” Sentarus suggested with a sigh.

Bellona growled and tried taking a deep breath. As she did so, Kujou and Nitta ran into the office with hands on their swords.

“At ease, gentlemen,” Sentarus voiced while raising a hand. “Just some unchecked anger, that is all.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” Kujou voiced as he and Nitta left the office to return to their post.

“What do you think that was about?” Nitta asked once out of earshot.

“The Lord Commander has been receiving some undue stress lately,” Kujou commented as they entered the corridor and continued their patrols. “I believe she has been given an impossible task of some kind and now it seems as though she has failed.”

“Lord Commander Bellona?” Nitta asked, as if the words made no sense. “I’ve never heard her fail.”

“Remember the attack on Gurindai?” Kujou asked as they rounded a corner.

“Yeah, an immortal burned the city leaving only a handful of survivors,” Nitta repeated.

“I believe that was her responsibility,” Kujou continued, thinking back to the attack near the end of the previous year. “I was a member of the response team she gathered. We only found corpses and dust. I’ve never seen her so frustrated before.”

“I heard that the attack was over by the time any of us could act,” Nitta added on, starting to put the pieces together.

“Exactly,” Kujou chimed in. “And now it seems as though she was given a task she may not be able to complete.

“Poor woman,” Nitta lamented.

“That’s part of the job, rook,” Kujou responded in a steady tone. “People die; all you can do is minimise the risk of it happening again and save those you can. Not many can accept that.”

Nitta thought about it carefully, but was interrupted by another loud thudding, only this one shook the walls and was accompanied by a howl that reverberated through the walls. The two soldiers looked to each other and ran back towards the rear corridor where the sound was the loudest, blades drawn and silently preparing an attack.

They returned to the corridor and found nothing was out of place; no visible source of the destructive sound. Suddenly, the walls shook again and an inhuman growl bellowed through the air once more.

“It’s coming from inside the walls!” Nitta shouted and took a position near one of the walls while Kujou faced the other way and stood next to the other wall. The walls shook again, this time louder and deafening.

“What in the hells is that?” Kujou shouted.

“I don’t know, but let’s prepare for the worst,” Nitta suggested, holding his sword in a two-handed grip.

Suddenly, one of the walls exploded open in a cloud of rock and dust as flames and shadows poured from the hole in the wall. Nitta and Kujou watched in horror as a man with pale tattooed skin and dark hair stepped out of the wall, panting loudly as flames licked his body and he fell to his knees.

Nitta ran towards the man, much to Kujou’s protest, and tried to help him up. “Are you alright, sir?” he called out.

The man quickly turned and his draconic blood red eyes pierced Nitta’s soul as he howled in a deep growl accompanied by a high pitched ringing. Nitta fell backwards, afraid of the man, the creature.

The man slowly rose to his feet as the flames burning him subsided and eyed the two soldiers with contempt and hatred. Nitta returned to his feet and the soldiers prepared for a fight, readying their swords. The man howled once more, baring fangs as an ominous light shone from his throat like flames.

“That’s enough Arylos!” a booming voice cut in. The man turned around to the other end of the hall and the two soldiers could see Sentarus and Bellona in the hall, their weapons ready but not drawn.

“I need air,” Arylos hissed. “I grow tired of waiting and now your time is up.”

“Arylos, as your friend, I’m asking you to calm down,” Bellona pleaded, keeping a hand up but another holding onto her sword.

Arylos growled and took heavy steps towards Bellona and Sentarus, clutching a small blue charm in his hand. “I want out, so tell me you discovered something,” he growled.

“Nothing yet,” Bellona admitted with a shaking voice. “It’s like he disappeared on us and I can’t track him.”

“Then that either means he was never here, or he’s waiting for me,” Arylos summarised.

“Arylos, just give us a bit more time,” Sentarus once again asked.

“A week was our agreement,” Arylos growled, moving closer to the two.

Kujou and Nitta decided together to run towards Arylos with swords drawn, however Arylos heard their shouting. His eyes shone red as he turned to face them and the men fell to the floor, clutching their throats and unable to breath.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Arylos, let them go,” Sentarus ordered. “They’re just doing their jobs.”

Arylos snarled and considered the situation. “Then I am going back home,” he returned.

“We still have to make sure everything is safe,” Bellona cut in.

“I am tired. I am hungry. I am alone. I want to go home,” Arylos growled as his invisible hands tightened their grip on the soldiers, the sounds of them choking filling the corridor as their vision faded.

Sentarus weighed his options carefully before stepping aside and beckoning Bellona to do the same. Arylos snarled and he released the two soldiers from his grasp as they tried to catch their lost breath. With a snap of his fingers, the wall he destroyed slowly began to repair itself, like time had gone backwards. As he walked past Sentarus and Bellona, they could feel the flames burning inside him radiating from his skin.

As the furious Titan left, Sentarus and Bellona both mentally agreed that even if they wanted to, there was no way they could have stopped him.

Arylos continued out into the foyer and outside as the sunlight struck him hard, blinding him briefly as he took in the sights and sounds of the city. He smelled the spring air, taking it deep into his lungs and replacing the dampness of the cell he trapped himself in.

He knew he couldn’t be too angry at Bellona and Sentarus, and a part of him felt bad. But right now, he has had enough. This was all a preventative measure and he already had to lie to Iris to do it, something he’s not really proud of. He will have to apologise later once he clears his head.

He smelled the air one more time and could smell the scent of something delicious a few blocks away, something that caught his interest. He went down the palace stairs while readjusting his coat to expose his arms to the warm spring air and wrapping his small blue charm back around his neck. He walked along with purpose, his footsteps thudding as he went along and letting out a growl of anger and frustration.

They had a week, a fucking week, Arylos ranted. I should have just handled this myself as I always do. Shame on me for reaching out for help for once.

He continued along the streets, watching the people walk past him and regard him with looks of concern and fear. He eventually found his target; a small noodle bar whose aroma carried a heavy scent of spice and pepper.

He went in and found the shop was moderately busy but had a perfect space for him on the bar. He took a seat and the chef, an older tanned bald man, approached him from the other side of the bar.

“What are ye lookin’ to have today?” the man asked with a heavy accent.

“Give me something hot,” Arylos ordered. “Something with enough heat to wake the dead.”

“A man o’ taste, I see,” the man laughed as he set a bowl in front of Arylos and prepared a batch of noodles.

Arylos looked down at his hands as he thought heavily about everything. He examined his pale skin and black nails. His time of isolation reminded him just how inhuman he is and how human Iris makes him feel.

Iris.

He had to make up his mind. He has to go back to her, but will it be safe? What if his hunter was just waiting for this exact moment; for Arylos to show a sign of weakness for him to take advantage of. What if he will wait until Arylos returns home and get Iris involved, taking her hostage?

What if he already took her away?

Arylos shook the thought from his head, unwilling to accept that. Sentarus and Bellona may have failed him, but they wouldn’t let anything happen to Iris. He just prayed that once he made it back home, she would still be there.

“Her ‘ye are,” the old man called out and placed a batch of noodles in Arylos’s bowl and topped it off with a broth containing so much spice Arylos could swear he lost a few nose hairs. He saw the redness of the broth and the seeds of the peppers used.

Perfection.

Arylos took the spoon and chopsticks and dug in, slurping the noodles and enjoying the burn of the broth as it brought some life to his cold skin. He felt the burn in his throat and it brought him ease. It made him feel alive again and warm in his stomach. In a single sitting, he devoured all of the noodles and drank the broth, leaving nothing behind as he set the bowl down, gasping for air and letting out a relieved sigh.

“Ye must have been ‘ungry, mate,” the man commented, heavily impressed by the display.

“You have no idea,” Arylos returned with a laugh and a big smile. A part of him was tempted to get another bowl, but he figured he would leave room for lunch with Iris.

Arylos could then hear the rustling of the shop curtains opening as a man stepped in with heavy footsteps. He leaned over the bar next to Arylos as the Titan was cleaning up the broth from his beard.

“I take it their food is that good?” the man asked in a heavy foreign accent.

“You should try the hot noodles,” Arylos suggested. “I haven’t had something that hot in a while.” Arylos then looked over and saw the man wore a blue tattered cloak that covered his face. He looked down and saw a sword on his right hip.

At that moment, Arylos felt his stomach turn. He recognised the silver blade with diamonds in the hilt and leather grip. He could read the writing on the hilt and the runes stamped into the leather-wrapped scabbard.

Fuck me, Arylos thought, coming to terms with reality.

The man chuckled as he leaned further on the bar and took a long look at Arylos. “If I were to say I am a man from the far north, seeking out that which is lost?” he asked rhetorically.

Arylos took a moment and winced in pain. He knew what these words meant and now there was no hiding it. “I would reply that I am a lost monster of the north, it is I that you seek,” Arylos returned the reply with a deep sigh. “Are you sure you want to do this? Around all of these decent folk? They have nothing to do with this.”

“You are the one who got them involved,” the man responded.

Arylos let out one final sigh. “Alright then,” he replied and set a collection of bills and gold coins on the counter to pay for his bill and the old man came back over to collect.

“Oh, ye don’t owe me this much bud,” the man replied, not willing to take the money.

“The rest is to cover damages,” Arylos answered in an exhausted voice, preparing himself for what was about to come next.

“Damages?” the old man clarified.

“For what he is about to do,” Arylos answered while gesturing to the cloaked man.

Suddenly, the cloaked man took Arylos’s head and slammed it into the bar, leaving a deep crack in it as the man grabbed Arylos by his collar and threw him out of the shop, with incredible speed and strength, causing the entire front of the shop to come crashing down as Arylos landed on the other side of the street, knocking down a few pedestrians.

Arylos groaned and slowly brought himself up. “Are you alright?” he asked the people he fell into and they nodded as they got up, helping Arylos up. He turned around and saw the cloaked man approach him with a march and brought his fist across Arylos’s jaw, knocking him back down.

“This brings me little joy, you know that,” the man called out, keeping his hood over his face as he reached down and grabbed Arylos, who was still processing the pain. “But you have to make this difficult,” the man continued, striking Arylos in the gut and again in the face, knocking him back down to the dirt as he groaned.

Arylos slowly lifted himself back up as his jaw popped back into place and the man took out his silver sword from his waist and his arm convulsed as if the muscles were tearing.

Arylos knew that this would be it; this man, this thing, would give him no chance to fight back. He would make Baldr look like an amateur.