Chapitre 19: Her Choice ( 2 )
Slick sweat coated his left palm clutching the handle, but the sensation went unnoticed by the swordsman.
However, this didn't seem to hamper his movement forward. In fact, the man moved rather briskly, searching the parameters more recklessly in order to locate the target faster. In return, it was quite easy for Kalani to pinpoint him.
Ripples of air reached the boy crouching atop the boulder. 'Quite useful,' he mused wryly at this ability while underneath the sole of his foot laid a few rough pebbles he had brought up there. Plucking one out, he rolled it around in his left hand, his eyes clouded in thought.
'I don't sense another person besides him. Are they not sticking together?' Kalani gripped the rock he was holding. 'This... might be a trap. For all I know, the archer may be lying in wait. But, isn't this— also an opportunity?'
As the wind began to shift, his eyes squinted at how quickly the enemy was advancing toward his location. His plan would have to be carried out earlier than expected.
An ache then throbbed through his wounded arm, and he cast a glance at his hand, still subtly twitching from the earlier impact with the swordsman. He clenched it into a tight fist, his brows furrowing. 'If this is the swordsman, then it would be better to stay away.'
Upon deciding, the boy tightened a cloth wrapped around his leg, which clasped both of his weapons and a newer addition: the whittled arrow shaft with a sleek, sharper end. This was his last resort, but better safe than sorry.
With a whizz, he pitched the rock into the dense fog, the rest following in quick succession into different directions.
Then without so much as a break, Kalani alighted from boulder, his landing greeted by a deafening eruption.
Sound waves of all kinds returned to the boy, swamping and hampering his perception, but if it worked for him, wouldn't his enemy also be confused?
As the boy mused this while dashing through the chaos he had created, a queer, bubbly feeling rose within.
He— relished this.
...
The thunderous rattles reverberating through the huddled archer's ears blew his headache out of control. The only sliver of sanity he managed to retain was by hugging his remaining dagger closely.
Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow loomed closer.
A blackened cloak but warm, hazel eyes...
Despite the haze, the youth willed his tired legs to move a little. It was his...!
Then, he suddenly scuttled backward behind the boulder, his pupils dilating in alarm. It wasn't his older brother; those gleaming, emerald irises were never his.
'My bow,' his ocean-blue eyes jerked toward his weapon beside him, but as the footsteps grew crisper, he felt his chances slipping away.
A small sting of pain refocused his gaze to the blade in his hand and the tiny cut on his finger. Its pale skin really— reminded him of his brother's...
...nestled in a letter stained crimson.
The archer ground his teeth. He hated— no— he loathed 'them', but as long as his brother came back, he was willing to do anything, even if it meant taking a life. So as adrenaline pumped through his veins, he lunged forward.
A sharp peal of metal then rang out as blades collided, and properly for the first time, their gazes did as well.
It was only for a split moment, but a trace of confusion flitted through the target's eyes. This hesitation was all the archer needed as he pushed to let go of his weapon and reached behind himself.
Then with a resounding whack, the youth slammed the boy's temples with the bow. The target stumbled back, but he clutched onto the archer's cloak and aimed to plunge the dagger into the youth's neck.
He missed, and the youth punched the boy in the gut. A low grunt escaped the boy, yet not before the youth gasped sharply while staggering backward with a dagger imbedded in his abdomen.
Metallic scent of blood congested the archer's nostrils as he coughed uncontrollably, agony wracking his whole being. However, he dove for his fallen blade on the ground behind him.
As soon as his hand touched the handle though, a foot stamped down on his wrist. And with no mercy, a bloodied hand grabbed clumps of his ragged, blonde hair, hoisting his face upward before a kick to the stomach sent him struggling to breathe, much less able to fight back.
A hoarse chuckle then resounded from above the archer's curled body. "Oh, how far you've fallen... Neil."
The words indicated mockery yet the final tone betrayed a festering madness.
'Who?' the mind of the youth raced as he barely held on; however, searing pain coursed through his ankles, leaving him only to wheeze in reply.
Though the archer couldn't see, he knew his heels were slashed. Regardless of the outcome, he... would not be able to walk out of here alive.
As blood oozed out of his wounds, his life— his warmth— his dreams seeped out with it.
'Ah, this coldness reminds me of those days,' the youth thought hazily, faintly recalling his soiled brother's bear-like hugs as the rain pelted over their frail, numbed bodies in the back alley. Even though they were saved by their master, even though they finally had food on the table, even after they experienced what warmth from a fireplace was like... if he could just go back in time, he never would have let his brother go.
'But, it's too lat—' a deafening clang pierced the archer's ears, preventing him from losing consciousness completely.
His vision still remained blurry, yet a soft rub on the head made him strangely reassured, so much so that he barely felt the frigid surface of an obsidian sphere placed in his palms emanate a scalding heat.
"Hold onto that tightly," a deeply familiar voice addressed the youth. As the person got up, he grabbed onto the man's hand, touching. It was missing two fingers.
"Older brother..." the archer croaked, tears welling up in his dimming eyes. The remaining fingers curled gently around his before slipping out...
... for the final time.
A brilliant radiance akin to a roaring inferno was all he could witness before a power suctioned his limp body into something else.
His whole being felt thrashed around in whatever space he was in before landing abruptly. A sniff of pure air and fresh grass rushed into his suffocated lungs, ultimately lulling his worn body to sleep.
"Who~~~~"
...
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
SolAce
SolAce An even shorter chapter— yes— I know. But this was supposed to be linked with the previous chapter; hence why it seems a little unusually short. Regardless, hope you enjoyed it !
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone