Chapitre 2: Chapter 2
It was a black sky, the lights having dimmed from the galaxy. It was as if the stars themselves were afraid to come out and face the man roaming the streets. Well, not the streets but the city. The clattering against wooden rooftops and shingles were echoing through empty alleyways. Maybe it would have been even louder, had it not been for the heavy and panicked breathing of a man running through the city. He was being chased, but by who or what? He didn't know. However, it wouldn't take long to find out. His eyes were struck with fear every time he looked back, seeing the shadowy silhouette chasing him as his breathing became more and more erratic, the movements of the silhouette seemingly appearing and disappearing at will. Only one thing had revealed slightly who the man in the shadows was, a white mask with tinges of blue around it.
Then, it happened. The man running had looked back for a split second, seeing no one there. However, as his head was turning back to continue his run and see where he was heading, all that was seen was an elbow covered in black. He had burst his bubble without him noticing until it was too late, the man in the mask now looking down at the man who had tried so hard to escape him. It was pitiful, really. He was soon grouped up with two other men in masks, the same masks as the men who had captured Ulric all those years ago. However, the one in the middle, the man who's elbow now held a red stain on it due to the blood of the man, had a... Special mask on. His mask seemed to have a marking on it, a curve as if it was a treble clef without the curve on the bottom.
"No... Ulysses?" The man asked in fear, slowly backing up as he held his busted nose, the blood staining his palm.
"P-please... What did I do..." The man asked with tears in his eyes. The man with the special mask didn't respond with words, instead deciding to move up closer.
"I didn't hurt anyone!" The man yelled out, quickly silenced as a knee made contact with his jaw. Unfortunately, his mouth was open as he did so. This caused teeth to spill out and his jaw to break, cracks spreading in the bone. He was now gasping for air, attempting to crawl away. He didn't even hear the quiet noise of a blade scraping against leather, the dagger leaving its sheath to introduce itself to this man. It was an unfortunate end for this man, but it was something he deserved. The man in the special mask, now identified as Ulysses, looked back at his team and was given a small nod. He approached the broken man, his quiet whimpers unable to make too much noise due to the damage he had taken. He took a simple walk, going around the man as his footsteps haunted the man's ears. Soon, all the man could see was the black, muddy boots. His hands grasped onto them, begging for mercy.
Ulysses bent down, his eyes meeting his in the darkness behind the mask. The mask hid everything. It hid the true identity of Ulysses. It hid the emotion behind his mask that his face wouldn't have been able to hide. Did he enjoy this? Did he despise it? Was he conflicted? Was he excited? No one would be able to tell under his mask. This mask wasn't just a mask to him anymore, this mask was his identity. The identity of a stone-cold killer, someone who did what they needed to do, and then took their leave. That was all he needed to be. He needed to repay his debt to the man who took him in, who gave him his very own identity.
The blade reflected the man, showing his expression of fear. He felt the terror strike deep, traversing through his nerves and piercing his heart. Even with a broken jaw, everything was easily understood. No words were needed. His expression told the whole story, his face scrunching up in sorrow and despair. Terror and fear. Worry and denial. It was pitiful... The blade was pressed against his throat, a position that Ulysses had remembered being in. It was quite sad. Sad that he wouldn't have the same ending that Ulysses did.
"Vale, mi frater."
The blade sliced in a quick and swift motion against the jugular. The spray of blood was small, getting onto the mask of Ulysses, mixing in with the blue tinge. However, it quickly died down, turning into a slow waterfall as the blood spilled down the skin. It splashed against the ground, slowly continuing its path as it sunk into the cracks of the street. Ulysses simply took the sleeve of his black frock coat and used it in order to clean the blood off his blade, sheathing it once again. He turned his back, leaving the body in the street to be found when the sun rose, venturing back with his group.
Approaching the slums, the trio traversed their way through the ridden area. The individuals seem to be frozen with fear each time that they came into vision. Whispers were audible no matter where the trio in masks went. Their masks were infamous in the criminal world of Brevell, The Wilting Rose. It was an order that worked in secrecy, but everyone knew of them. Everyone knew of their mask, but no one knew how they operated or why. No one except for those who had direct contact. The three took a sharp turn into a dark alleyway in the slums, making their way into a cellar. However, this cellar was... Spacious, to say the least. It was well furnished, well lit, and split into multiple sections. Why? This cellar was the base for The Wilting Rose. It held home to dozens of warriors, the spacious and cozy area giving them a place to survive. The three reached for their masks, revealing their identity once they were safe.
The first one let out a breath of relief, chuckling as he and the other two individuals made their way to the sleeping quarters. He had bright blue eyes and fiery red hair. He was an attractive individual, with no visible flaws in his skin. He held a small smile, beginning to spark conversation with the other two. His body seemed to be leaner than muscular, allowing for swifter movement. His red hair was tied up in a man bun, allowing it to keep out of his eyes. A shorter individual, around 5'6 or 5'7 it would seem.
"Holy, Fleur!" The ginger spoke, chuckling as he stripped off his coat, hanging it on a rack along with his mask that was next to his bed.
"I swear I thought you were about to fall off the roof!" He joked, getting a playful punch to the shoulder and a chuckle in response by the one who also wore a normal mask.
"Yeah, alright Yahil." The person responded. They had a higher voice, reaching for their mask and placing it on the rack as well, revealing a woman with flowing black hair that was hidden due to her coat. As her coat was removed, it revealed the beauty of it, flowing down to her shoulder blades. Her body, much like Yahil's, was lean instead of muscular. However, she seemed to have at least a bit more muscle than Yahil did. She seemed to be around the same height, around 5'6 and a half. Her brown eyes shined brighter than anything else though, perfectly shaped. She had a smile that could brighten anyone's day.
"Now, you, Ulric! They're recognizing your public name just off of your mask alone now!" Yahil said in excitement, getting a small friendly laugh from who was clearly the leader of the group.
"Yeah, I noticed that. It seems you're really getting some recognition." Fleur added on as she watched Ulric remove his mask, placing it onto the rack along with the pair. He stripped off his frock coat, just like them as it revealed a comfortable woolen robe. His messy, short hair had remained on him from those days. However, he was much more attractive now. He was clean-shaven, smiling as he conversed with his two partners, his two friends. His bright green eyes seemed to reveal his dropped guard around the two, enjoying his time with them. Unlike the other two, while his body held little fat it was far more muscular. He was clearly strong, you could tell just by looking at him. But he seemed to have at least a bit of a soft side.
"Yeah, whatever. Yahil, Fleur. You guys did real good today. Now come here!" He said playfully, lunging after his best friends as they all laughed together, Ulric giving the two noogies for their trouble, laughter filling the area as chatter filled the rest of the base.
It had been 11 long years since that day he was grabbed off the street. And Ulric couldn't be happier right now...
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone