The sky was dark, the clouds blocking the little light coming from the moon. The rain started pouring heavier. Below them were the vehicles—stories away from their ticket to freedom. They were drenched and cold, but the heat emanating from their anxiety kept them warm. A few minutes passed, and the group was starting to get restless.
"Are you sure he's still going through with it? What if he got scared?" Eva asked Cleo.
"No, I saw the determination in his eyes," Cleo replied.
"Shu had to pee three times now, so roughly around forty-five minutes have already passed," Eva said, as Shu side-eyed her at the comment.
"Let's wait a few more minutes. I felt his determination. If it's taking him this long to get to Liba, then that only means he's in some kind of trouble," Cleo said, arms crossed and wearing a worried expression.
Meanwhile, Felicia and Arma were both on their third bottle of booze, drinking under the shade of an old house.
"So you were planning on killing Liba, huh? And here I thought you just found my stash of booze," Arma said as he took a drink.
"You seem rather okay with what I'm planning to do," Felicia replied.
Arma let out a deep sigh. "Let's just say I get it… Actually, I wanted to do that too. It's just that—I'm scared to."
"Well, I wouldn't really call myself brave," Felicia chuckled, then continued, "I think I'm just venting. Looking for something to unleash all this anger and regret."
He sipped the booze. "No sane man would easily give up life like this—but my life was already bad even before I became a pre-decadent." Felicia puffed a smoke. "Humor a dying man for a bit."
"I'm all ears," Arma replied.
"My little brother… he died when he was only eleven. I was fourteen back then. We were poor, and we had a fight with this silver-spoon brat," Felicia breathed heavily. "He was an entitled little runt. His dad had connections with the capital's government—probably why he was so cocky. One day, things got heated. He made fun of our parents and our lifestyle.
My little brother though, with his sharp tongue, snapped back at him. I forgot the exact words, but he said something about them probably partaking in incestuous relationships because of how ugly the kid was. I was laughing my ass off. The brat, however, looked like he was about to pop."
Felicia took another sip.
"He charged at my brother. They fell… and my little brother hit the back of his head on the pavement. I rushed in—furious. I wanted to kill that kid… but I couldn't leave my brother.
He was staring blankly… and he was bleeding from the nose."
Felicia put his hands over his face, trying to cover the tears.
"A day after he died… my parents—my mom was mourning, my dad was furious. They tried to hold the kid accountable for his actions, but nothing came of it.
So my dad… he tried to attack the kid's father. But, well… trying to fight people like that head-on was never going to end well. He got sent to prison after that."
"My mom grew distant after the incident. She would snap at me—look at me like she wanted to say something horrible, but instead, she just cried. Maybe she realized it wouldn't bring my brother back. She didn't do anything wrong, but from that day on, our relationship started to drift.
My dad, on the other hand, got even more depressed in prison. He accused my mom of cheating, and after a few years, she stopped visiting. And so did I—because unlike her, he blamed me for everything.
Nothing was ever resolved—not for years—until both of them finally died."
Felicia took one last sip before throwing the bottle aside.
"And now I'm doing the exact same thing my father did."
"Well, I think it's time. I've been talking for far too long now," Felicia said, taking another sip from the bottle one last time.
"Before I go…" he pulled out the tonic and handed it to Arma.
"This…" Arma looked shocked.
"It's a tonic Cleo smuggled. He wanted me to give it to the doctor—she's part of the plan. But I feel like it's better off in your hands," Felicia said as he stood up, ready to leave.
"And thank you."
He then made his way to Liba's quarters, heart pounding. "This must be what my father felt," he thought.
Three guards were stationed near the entrance. One of them—a mercenary girl with red hair tucked under a beanie—noticed him.
"Hey! What are you—this area is off-limits," she called out.
Then she paused. Something about Felicia's body language… his face, his stare—it struck her. It was something she'd seen countless times on the battlefield.
The look of someone about to kill.
Her instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, she reached for the gun at her side. It was a modified flare gun—single shot, loaded with a shell containing powerful sedatives, strong enough to put down an elephant.
Felicia was faster.
He stomped the pavement, breaking it apart, and kicked the debris toward the mercenaries. Sharp fragments flew—some lodging into the red-haired girl's eye just as she fired. The shot missed. Felicia dodged with ease and blitzed the remaining two soldiers.
He struck one square in the chest. A loud crack echoed as the man collapsed. The third guard fumbled with his holster, trying to draw his weapon. Felicia grabbed the second soldier by the leg and hurled him into the third with brutal force, knocking both to the ground.
The skirmish was loud—loud enough to wake Liba.
"What the hell is going on?!" Liba shouted as he burst out of his quarters, hair loose and messy with bangs falling over his eyes. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts.
But despite his half-dressed state, he instantly assessed the situation.
He raised his hands, summoning a pair of sickles.
Both were about arm's length, their handles wrapped in faded bandages tinged with a reddish hue. Near the top, where the blades connected, the material binding the handle to the edge had a skeletal texture with a nightmarish design—like a face stretched and contorted flat so that its mouth could protrude the blades.
Liba gripped one of the sickles, and veins began to protrude from the handle, snaking their way up to the blades. With a single swing, Liba sliced through the air, unleashing an air slash that shattered through two thick stone walls as it surged toward Felicia.
Felicia quickly grabbed one of the soldiers, using the body as a shield to block the attack—severing the soldier in the process.
He looked down at the corpse, a faint sense of guilt washing over him. But he had no time to dwell on it.
"FELICIA!!! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" Liba roared. As the dust settled, Liba stood there—smiling, holding his armaments.
Felicia steadied himself and assumed a defensive boxing stance.
Liba chuckled, plunging his sickles into the ground before mirroring Felicia's stance. "I know that stance too," he said, then added provocatively, "Well, Felicia—come at me!"
Felicia lunged. He opened with a sharp left jab that struck Liba's face, immediately following it up with a straight. Liba, however, dodged by stepping sideways and bending his torso, then prepared a devastating hook to Felicia's side.
Felicia staggered from the blow, pain radiating through his ribs. He lost his balance and collapsed to the ground.
"Awww, want a breather?" Liba said, taunting him.
Felicia charged again. Liba went for a straight, but Felicia ducked under it and landed a punch to his abdomen. That's when he felt it—hard as iron. Tougher than even the armor worn by the Decadents he'd fought before.
Liba grabbed Felicia's hands and yanked him forward, winding up a devastating uppercut. Felicia braced himself—just before the blow sent him crashing through the roof.
"That strength… He's a freak of nature!"
Meanwhile, Cleo, his team, and a few of the mercenaries guarding the vehicles caught sight of Felicia flying through the air.
"HAHA! NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Cleo shouted seeing Felicia
The commotion caught the attention of the soldiers stationed nearby. Alarmed by the noise erupting from the main camp, they began moving in to investigate.
"Look! They're going!" Deborah said, spotting a third of the soldiers rushing toward the ruckus.
"Alright, Shu. You're up," Cleo said.
"Alright," Shu responded, raising an open palm to signal the others to stand by. He waited a few seconds until only a handful of soldiers remained.
With a sharp forward gesture, the group leapt down from the cliff into the vehicle lot. Only five soldiers were left—and with the element of surprise on their side, Shu and Cleo swiftly took them out with precise strikes to the chin and liver, knocking them unconscious.
Cleo gave Eva and Deborah a look, signaling that the coast was clear. The two quickly moved into the warehouse. It was surprisingly organized—Eva found the keys in a drawer without much trouble, while Deborah grabbed an extra can of gas, just in case.
Cleo checked the vehicles while Shu stood guard. The four of them worked systematically and efficiently, each focused on their task.
"Here are the keys," Eva said, handing them to Cleo.
"Let's go! Shu!" Cleo shouted as the others jumped into the vehicle.
Cleo started the engine and slammed the brakes, tearing off and successfully escaping the scene.
"HA! HA! EAT SHIT, YOU BASTARDS!" Cleo shouted with glee, while the others sighed in relief.
"I—I can't believe it!" Deborah said. "I thought it would be way harder!"
"Now don't jinx it!" Eva replied.
Meanwhile, one of the mercenaries Shu had knocked out began to stir. Still groggy, he fumbled for his flare gun, aimed it at the sky, and fired. A red flare shot upward and exploded like fireworks, lighting up the rainy night
The soldiers, Liba, and the nearby laborers—awakened by the commotion—all saw the flare.
But more importantly, from a distance, a hooded figure holding a spear spotted the red light piercing the stormy sky.
"Oh wow, now that's a first! Someone actually trying to escape! Well then, doggy—let's go for a walk," the hooded figure said.
From the dark stepped a man—hunched over, bald, eyes full of madness and scars. His skin was slick with sweat, his upper torso wrapped in bandages similar to the laborers' hunter straps, but marked with strange, cryptic symbols. His hands were bound together, twitching with anticipation.
"Ugh... UH, GRAHH!" the bald man growled, drooling as he grinned.
"You over there," the hooded figure pointed at a nearby soldier, "start up the engine! I'm about to commit some acts of violence."
Meanwhile, Cleo and his group were speeding through the rain-soaked road when—THUNK—a spear suddenly lodged itself through the metal frame of the vehicle, just inches from Cleo's head.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Cleo shouted, ducking instinctively.
The spear slowly began to vanish, fading into the air. Eva leaned over and peeked through the hole it left.
"We're being followed by the mercenaries! Just one vehicle… and someone's on top with a spear! And…" Eva looked again, eyes widening. "AND A GIANT FLOATING EYEBALL BEHIND HIM!"
"WHAT!?" Cleo exclaimed.