07 - Trypa

“So… kid, you’re an Apostle of Apollo, aren’t you?”

Wasting no time on small talk, the man immediately started questioning Fíle.

“How did you know,” Fíle replied, genuinely baffled. Not responding, the man reached behind Fíle’s ear, tugging one of his hairs out of his scalp.

“Ah! What are you doing,” File asked, surprised.

“Look, kid. Notice anything odd?” Holding the hair up to Fíle’s face, the man waited for Fíle to notice.

“It’s… gold?” Looking closely at the strand of hair, Fíle noticed the bizarre color of it. Fíle’s hair had always been straight brown, so having a pure gold strand of hair was truly peculiar.

“When an Apostle uses a god’s power, they are also subjected to the god’s influence, which can cause unusual side effects,” the man explained. “For example, when I use my god’s powers, I grow a little taller each time.”

Looking at the man, who was around average height, Fíle wasn’t able to believe this. “But you look pretty average to me,” Fíle stated.

“That’s because I was lucky enough to have an ability that allows me to negate the side effects,” the man said unamused as his body started undergoing rapid changes. Besides nearly doubling in height, the man’s beard vanished and his hair went from dark brown to completely black.

Stunned, Fíle simply looked up at him while not saying anything.

Trying to stand up straight, the man ended up hitting his head on the ceiling so hard a small crack formed. “Oh shit, sorry about that,” the man said, rubbing his head in pain. “So, yeah. See what I mean,” he said while shrinking down to the size that he was before. Seeing this, Fíle realized that he didn’t even know this man’s name.

“Uh sir… It’s nice to meet you and all, but… who are you, and why are you in my house?”

Looking down at the boy for a second, the man remembered that he had yet to introduce himself. Sitting down in the chair he put at the end of the bed, the man started introducing himself. “Name’s Peiratís, but you can call me Pierre. Basically, I came here to find Àndras, but I smelled you dying and decided to save you before going to find him. Pretty glad I did too, seeing how much of a hidden gem you are. Honestly, how does an Apostle of Apollo not attract any attention whatsoever?”

Noticing many strange aspects of the man’s monologue, Fíle didn’t know what he should do. First of all, why did he come here to find Àndras? His brother had been in the army for the past couple of years, and seeing the man’s armored attire, he should have known that as well. Second off, smelled him dying? Yeah, dead men do have a pungent aroma, but Fíle wasn’t dead yet. Had he misspoken?

As Fíle looked at Pierre in confusion, Pierre was also looking at Fíle, wondering what to do about him. Despite there being over 8 million people in the country of Greece, only 5,000 appearances of Apostles of Apollo had been noted within the past 10 years, half of which did not possess any combat driven abilities. And while he wasn’t certain, Pierre could feel something special about this kid.

“Say kid, how about you enroll in the Military Academy.” Pierre suddenly questioned, interested in Fíle’s response. “Military Academy? Sir, I can’t do that. Without me, there’s a chance my family might starve. Yeah, my Aunt has a job, but, well… I’m not sure it’s enough for two people to live off of.”

In her free time, Aunt Gyn would create toys by carving them out of wood or sewing them. While profitable, it was debatable whether or not this was enough to support two people at once.

“Besides, I really have no interest in going back to school. I don’t really get along well with other people, you see.” Fíle’s gaze wandered down to a peculiar mark that sat on the back of his hand. Every time he looked at the circular scar, he could almost feel the burning again.

“Well, learning to socialize is an important skill in life. I’m sure your aunt would agree with me on that. But, on the off chance that it’s harassment you’re worried about, then stop. Most students there are too busy… uh… doing stuff to bother you,” Pierre offered, his gaze wandering as he hesitated.

“Huh… well, I probably should have asked this earlier, but,” Fíle continued, “Mr. Pierre—“

“Just Pierre is fine,” Pierre interrupted.

“Right. Pierre, who exactly are you,” Fíle asked with an expression displaying curiosity and a little bit of fear.

“Oh yeah, I guess I didn’t elaborate too much on that end. Allow me to reintroduce myself,” he said while standing up, engaging in an exaggerated bow. “Lieutenant General Pierre, at your service,” Pierre said in a completely unfitting deadpan tone.

It seemed that nearly dying would not be the most surprising thing File would experience that day.

…

“No…”

Starting mortified at the scene before him, Kakó couldn’t even move. In front of him was the image of Nazarius being impaled by a spear. This wasn’t real, right? This wasn’t what Kakó wanted…

Blood soaked through Nazarius’s clothes as he looked down in horror at the newly added spear in his gut.

“Hahaha! Who would have thought you’d be stupid enough to to stick around after getting so far?! Honestly, you were sooo close to escaping, yet here you are, skewered like a kebab,” the guard maniacally laughed, digging the spear even deeper into the boy’s flesh.

‘Uugh,’ was the only thing Nazarius was able to squeak out before a combination of bodiy fluids started trickling out of his mouth. As the blood, spit, and stomach acid inched down Nazarius’s chin, Kakó made eye contact with him.

Nazarius’s gaze grew fierce as it spotted Kakó. Why was he here? To mock him for being stupid enough to fall into his trap?

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Yet, as Nazarius looked at Kakó’s face, he couldn’t detect a smidge of narcissism. Instead, all he saw was pure dread. As Nazarius wondered why Kakó looked so terrified, the guard turned around with Nazarius still on the end of his spear, inducing copious amounts of pain.

“My lord, I apologize for my tardiness, but I have succeeded in capturing the thief.”

When the guard kneeled in front of the lord, he held his spear vertically -with the tip facing upward- causing Nazarius to slip down the shaft and get caught onto the guard's hand, leaving half of the spear covered in blood.

“Couldn’t you have subdued him in a cleaner manner? Well it’s not like he would have survived the day anyway,” Dysosmos sneered, watching the blood of the boy leak onto the bottom half of the spear. “I apologize,” the guard responded.

Verging on the edge of permanent unconsciousness, Nazarius’s life flashed before his eyes. As his eyelids grew heavy, he started pondering his few regrets. ‘I can’t imagine how Aunt Gyn will feel, knowing that both of her sons died within the same week. Aunt Gyn… I’m sorry for all of those times I worried you… I wish I told you how grateful I am and how much I love you… well it looks like I won’t ever get the chance…’

“Hey kid, don’t die yet! I haven’t even had the chance to torture you yet! Damn it,” Dysosmos muttered. “Hey Ypirétis,” Dysosmos commanded, “find this kid's family already!”

“Ah, yes my lord,” Ypirétis said frightfully. Looking upon the horrific scene in front of him, Ypirétis gulped before shakily sticking his pointer finger in a puddle of the kid’s blood. Closing his eyes tightly, he brought his finger up to his mouth and licked the blood off of his finger.

“Ugh, it’s so gross…”

“What was that, Ypirétis?”

“Uh, nothing my lord! Where was I? Oh yes.”

Suddenly, Ypirétis started swiveling his head on his neck, like he was looking for something. Becoming more nervous by the second, he started freaking out.

“Um, my lord,” Ypirétis gulped.

“Yeah, what? Spit it out already,” Dysosmos responded impatiently.

“…It appears that this boy has no living family.”

“What?!”

Looking around, Dysosmos eventually spotted Kakó, who was still frozen in place due to the transpiring events. Running over to him, Dysosmos’s face contorted in anger for the umpteenth time that day.

“You little shit! You told me he had a family,” Dysosmos roared as he started violently shaking Kakó.

“W-w-wait sir-r! I ca-an expla-a-ain,” Kakó exclaimed, stuttering from being thrown around in Dysosmos’s arms.

“Well, do it now and do it quickly,” Dysosmos screamed, still shaking Kakó.

“Na-az… that-t bo-oy is-a ado-opte-ed,” Kakó explained, leaving out Nazarius’s name as to not make things worse than they already were.

“…”

Not knowing what to say, Dysosmos put Kakó down and started walking over to the mutilated Nazarius. Sensing his intentions, the guard tilted his spear diagonally, causing Nazarius to slip off of the spear and hit the ground with a sickening thud.

“Hey half pint. I don’t know who you are, but I promise you… within the week, the heads of every single one of your family members will be on a pike outside of my store. You hear me?!”

Not thinking to ask anyone of the boy's name, Dysosmos grabbed Nazarius by the scruff and started dragging him back to his store, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. As Dysosmos looked around, he noticed something odd. His store, which towered above the rest due to its structure, couldn’t be seen despite its abominable size. Sensing that something was off, Dysosmos picked up the pace, dragging Nazarius along all the way.

As Dysosmos grew closer to the store, he noticed a crowd had gathered. ‘So the plebeians finally recognized the greatness of my shop,’ he thought to himself. As he dug through the mob, the quaking, which was still occurring, started to settle down.

Trailing behind Dysosmos, the guard noticed that something was wrong and reached for the lord’s sleeve before realizing that that was probably a bad idea. Reining his arm back in, he opted to be silently vigilant instead.

“Move out of my way plebeians! I must enter my shop to sell you my—waaaaht in the name of the gods is that,” Dysosmos shrieked, finally spotting the deep, ominously crimson hole in the ground that sat where his shop should have. Stunned, Dysosmos blankly stared at the opening, not being able to process what was happening.

“…Ypirétis, what is that,” Dysosmos finally asked in an eerily calm voice.

“…”

“Ypirétis,” he repeated louder after a few seconds of silence. However, no matter how much Dysosmos called Ypirétis, he never answered. Getting impatient, Dysosmos moved closer to physically gain Ypirétis’s cooperation when, suddenly, the guard intervened.

“My lord, I believe it would be in your best interest to stay behind me for now,” he stated.

“Why?! What the hell is going on?! And where is my store,” Dysosmos complained.

The guard looked at the large, orange-glowing hole with a bitter look on his face. Pointing at the hole, the guard started to explain.

“On rare occasions, the underworld will break through the surface of the world of the living, resulting in a trench such as the one before you to appear. And if I’m not mistaken…”

Taking a deep breath, the guard attempted to calm his nerves.

“In under twenty four hours, this town will be flooded with the creatures of the underworld. In other words, my lord, I suggest we get out of here before we run out of time,” the guard explained desperately.

Seemingly understanding the situation, Dysosmos’s completion grew pale. “So does that mean that my store…?” Dysosmos looked down in disbelief at the entity that had swallowed his business.

“… I’m afraid so, my lord,” the guard said, knowing full well what he was asking.

Stunned, Dysosmos simply looked at the wreckage for a while, clenching his fists. It’s been a long time since he felt anything was so helplessly out of his control. As his fists tightened, the somewhat soft feeling of cloth reminded him of something. Looking behind him, Dysosmos laid his eyes on the back of the dying boy’s head.

‘Right after this little shit robbed my store… wait a minute… there’s no way…!’

Making an unreasonable connection, Dysosmos’s face once again twisted in anger. The only difference is that this time, streaks of sadness could be seen on his face. Grabbing the boy’s collar with both hands, Dysosmos pulled his face up to meet his.

“You bastard! You had something to do with this didn’t you! What did you do?! Tell me!”

The boy remained unresponsive as a tear slipped down Dysosmos’s round face. Looking back at the hole, Dysosmos thought of only one thing to do.

“Hey, you. What was your name again,” Dysosmos asked the guard.

“…it’s Ponirós, sir,” he responded, a bit confused by the sudden developments.

“You said that hole is connected to the underworld right? So, if I drop something on it, will that thing slip through?”

“Well, yes sir, that is how it should work. However, no one has really thought to try to put something through one before,” Ponirós answered. Wondering what was going through his lord’s mind, Ponirós eyed the kid before putting it together.

“Wait my lord, you couldn’t be thinking—“

“Silence Ponirós,” Dysosmos intercepted, dragging the lifeless corpse of the child to the gaping hole in the ground. As he arrived near the entrance, the crowd that had started to dissipate placed their gaze on the man grasping a corpse.

Not saying a word, Dysosmos grabbed Nazarius by the neck and hovered his body above the trypa.

“Rot in hell, you little bastard.”

…

“Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Mumbling under his breath, Ándras was shoving his way through the crowd of people who were frantically running away. Because of the large number of people running towards or into him, Ándras was having a hard time running back to his house. If he tried to run faster, he would just end up running into more people.

Eventually, the number of people thinned out enough to where Ándras was able to run at a somewhat fast speed. However, as he looked around trying to gauge the situation, Ándras noticed a small crowd of people who were not fleeing. Seeing this unexpected sight, Ándras decided to take a peek as he ran by.

As he looked through the small mob, Ándras was able to make out something particularly unusual.

A rotund man was grasping a familiar looking child by the neck, holding him over the source of the past quake.

Stopping dead in his tracks, the only thing Ándras could do was look on in horror as the man dropped Nazarius into the trypa.