Bab 161: Blended?

"What a f****** lunatic," Blood spat aggressively.

But Emile didn't hear him. Instead, his eyes lasered onto Michaelangelo's corpse. He hung from the wall, impaled by a single red spear.

The crystal shaft pierced the foxes chest, popping his heart like a balloon. Blood dripped off the edge of the crystal spear as well as from the lips of the gold fox.

The scene replayed in his mind, Michaelangelo's sudden arrogance and his untimely demise. The more he thought about it, the more realization crashed onto him like a tsunami leveling a metropolis.

"Blood?!" Emile jumped from his pad and grabbed the boy's shoulders, shaking him in a controlled panic, "Why did you kill him?!"

"Why did I kill him?" Blood repeated while remaining calm, his facial expressions unchanging and his bored attitude spreading to his mannerisms as he lazily picked his ear, "Were you listening to the rat? He had it coming."

Emile suddenly felt a wave of essence explode from behind him. He strained his neck as he launched it aside, evading a stone as it plummeted through the air and slammed into the wall, cracking the ancient stone this room was built in.

"How dare you!" A bottled up rage released from one of the foxes as his voice tore apart.

"This is why I didn't want you to kill him," Emile sighed.

He let go of Blood and began walking towards the other foxes. With his hand outstretched, essence spread and swirled around his palm.

The white particles danced in his palm, they swam between his fingers and dove underneath his wrist before colliding in the center, solidifying into the shape of a cylinder.

Emile wrapped his fingers around the thin cylinder and the moment he did so, the essence responded and moved in a controlled fashion. The remaining sparks of light rushed to fill in the gaps of his scimitar, when it was finally completed, the light faded and the black sheen of his sword revealed itself.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Emile said dejectedly.

Meanwhile, another fox picked up a stone from the fireplace. This time, however, the stone engulfed in flames. The fox held the burning rock between its fingers, concentrating even more heat into the stone before hurling it at Emile.

Emile's eyes remained on the floor, as if uninterest overtook him. The scorching stone arrived before his skull and yet Emile continued to ignore it.

With only a second remaining, his scimitar blurred unnaturally and the stone split in half. Its momentum died immediately and it dropped to the floor where Emile crushed it with the back of his boot.

Witnessing this, the foxes quieted down. The one who threw the rock subconsciously took a step back, his knees wobbled and his teeth clattered.

Fear had penetrated their hearts and it was too late to make amends.

"Excuse me, kind sir," a fox approached Emile on his knees, he held his paws up and kept his head down, refusing to even look at Emile.

Funnily enough, Emile also refused to acknowledge the fox. Instead, when the kneeling fox entered Emile's reach his sword blurred again and the fox's neck subtly shifted.

Emile stepped past the fox, his knee bumping against the foxes body. The impact of his knee rattled the fox, giving his head it's one more needed push. Then, his head slid off his shoulders and collapsed onto the floor, a splatter of blood accompanying its fall.

The remaining foxes stood still. No, they couldn't move even if they tried. Their fear had long ago petrified them, sentencing them to a cageless prison and a seat on death's row, all confined within the walls of their own bodies.

Emile arrived before another fox. He raised his sword slowly this time, allowing his spectators to see his sword's movements.

Once it reached its highest point, Emile tightened his grip and swung down, but before the edge of his blade cut across the fox's neck Emile stopped.

He turned his head towards the door of the Ceremony room and bent his neck, squinting at the doorway with curiosity.

"Blood," Emile called out with his sword resting on the neck of the fox beneath him, "can you take care of our friends here? It seems like I'm needed upstairs."

Blood broke free from his daze, he never expected Spright to so ruthlessly slaughter the foxes. He felt they were even harder to kill than humans, they were so adorable after all and their screams and wails were much more heart wrenching than most human adults.

"You can leave it to me," Blood replied after a moment.

He cast a glance at Michaelangelo and the headless fox and immediately their puddles of blood rose into the air. The blood formed a spiral, it flew through the air like a conscious tornado and rammed into Blood's hollow shoulder.

The blood solidified, forming a semi-solid semi-fluid combination of crystals. With the amount of blood available to him, his new arm continued to grow.

Thrice the size of his natural arm, Blood's crystal limb looked like it belonged to a gorilla. It hung low, his fingers mere inches away from scraping against the floor as he walked.

He clenched his fist, feeling the power it contained and smiled.

"Yeah —" he approached the kneeling fox held captive beneath Emile's blade, "this'll definitely do!"

Blood slammed his closed fist on the fox's skull and it immediately shattered. His spine crumbled like paper and his head popped like a grape.

Brain matter exploded from the fox's ears, his eyes burst from his sockets and swayed back and forth, still attached to the optic nerves.

Emile tipped his sword up, leaning its back end on his shoulder. He stepped away from the puddle of brains and blood and passed through the doorway leading upstairs.

He stepped onto the staircase and began climbing. Since it was a spiral staircase, Emile was momentarily alone. Nobody could see him as he patiently took each step at a time.

Internally, though, Emile was the opposite of patient.

He stopped climbing the stairs and leaned against the wall. His available hand flew across the air and covered his mouth, then he gagged.

He felt his stomach acid rise, burning his esophagus and putting a truly horrid taste in his mouth. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, using all of his willpower he swallowed the clump of acid and released a heavy sigh.

'Jesus Christ!'

'Blood completely…'

'I — I don't even know'

'Blood crushed, smushed, f****** blended!'

'I can't even think of the right word to describe what that psycho just did!'

Emile grew used to many things in this new world, the constant killing was naturally one of them. But the degree to which he's accepted murder had a limit and Blood just crossed it.

It might seem odd, Emile obviously recognizes that he just beheaded one of the foxes, but his brain quite literally perceived it differently.

Since he's been training with the sword, he subconsciously began to look at his opponents like puzzles. Each stroke of his sword, each cut he formed was a piece to their puzzle.

Cutting off an arm was removing a piece, beheading a fox was like popping off a toy's head. If he cleaned up the blood and purchased some high quality glue he could put the pieces back together and it would look relatively the same.

He didn't know why, but that thought comforted him. Just the idea that he could put someone back together helped him cope, but what Blood just did.

Emile thought back to the explosion of brain and skull, the puddle beneath his shoes that was littered with fragments of the fox's skull and clumps of still pulsating brain mush.

He couldn't put those pieces back together. Blood broke the puzzle beyond recognition and Emile was nowhere near prepared enough to witness such a gruesome scene.

Emile shook his head. Now wasn't the time to come to terms with Blood's brutality. He didn't know what Michaelangelo did to the others, if anything. It could have all been talk, an empty threat to get Emile to talk, but either way he needed to find out.

He took another step and continued up the staircase.

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