Chương 66: Blueberry Boy

Maria Rose drove unenthusiastically through the city.

She neither sped nor slowed. Like an instructor, her driving was perfect and monotone.

In the hills of Sao Paulo, the peak of the city, mansions stretched egregiously.

Various architectural designs coated the hills: most spanish, those homes were white with orange clay roofs. Some homes were Roman, as intricate columns adorned the properties and sculptures made of marble littered their yards.

Maria drove towards one of these homes.

Up a neatly sorted cobblestone road, white columns welcomed guests to a luscious yard filled with sculpted bushes and fountains made of baby angels. Lanterns adorned the side of the road and lit the path towards the gates beyond.

Maria stopped at the gates — steel bars barred her path.

A guard, unidentified with a pistol strapped to his waist, poked his head through the small building used to deter the public from entering the property. Upon finding Maria, however, the guard shot himself back into the security hut and opened the gates.

As the gates parted, Maria drove her race-car red coupe further up the road.

Her engine alone sent the birds in the garden to the skies. A low rumble rattled off her muffler.

Finally, Maria approached the front of the mansion. A massive fountain sat in front of it. In the center of the fountain, a nude man made of stone delicately rested his thumb upon his lip. From the man's genitalia, a stream of water poured into the fountain.

Maria drove around the fountain, along a round-a-bout, and parked her car in the open space before the white steps that led to the luxurious home. Monotonously, she opened her car door and stood still.

A blank expression was cast across her face. Dull eyes. For a few select moments, Maria did nothing.

Then, her car door opened again and a tall foreigner stepped out. Waves of mist accompanied him.

His hair was wild and black. His skin was pale and white. His eyes were amber and golden.

Cain wore a black button up with the top few buttons undone. His bare chest was exposed to the night, his black corruption poked through his shirt and melded with the darkness of their surroundings.

"Lead me inside." Cain said.

Immediately, Maria began to move. In her highheels, she stepped up the white steps without any trouble and approached the pristine white double-doors that led into the mansion.   Meanwhile, Cain stood to the side, behind the columns that kept the massive building afloat. He studied the property. Although most of it was white and stone, the door knob, for example, seemed to be made of pure gold.

Around the fountains too, gold leaves adorned the head of the man of stone and gold detailings hung from the apex of the pillars around.

Instead of knocking, Maria pressed an inconspicuous button beside the door.

"Hello?" A staticky voice responded through a speaker beside the door.

"It is Maria." She simply said.

Suddenly, a red light lit from beside the door. Maria stepped yonder and fitted her eyeball just an inch before the light.

Cain witnessed a streak of light coat Maria's eye. Then, the red light turned green and the sound of cogs turning and locks unlocking echoed from beyond the doors.

The double-doors parted and an aged man stood waiting. He wore a simple tuxedo and kept one of his arms raised. Across his arm, a quality handkerchief hung.

"Will you be staying for long, Miss Maria?" The butler asked.

"Hmm?" Maria replied.

The light returned to her eyes. She looked around in wonder and before responding to her brother's butler, Maria clutched her head.

"I'm…" She looked at the butler, "I'm terribly sorry, Juan, but what did you ask me?"

"Will you be staying?" The butler repeated, "Should I tell the chef's to prepare dinner?"

Maria looked back at her car. Confusion warped her expression.

At the same time, Cain readied himself.

From behind the column, Cain's figure blurred and morphed unceremoniously. His alabaster skin faded unto the background all while black cloth engulfed his visage. Then, two candle lit flames ignited where his eyes lay.

Two strips of cloth exploded out from behind the column and tore towards Maria and the butler. The strips of cloth entangled the two people instantaneously. It started with their eyes and blocked their vision.

Then, like a mummy, the strips of cloth spun down their frames: covering their mouths, embroidering their chests, and binding their arms and legs tightly together.

Muffled screams tried to escape from the black cloth, but its sound was weak and its reach was minimal.

Death stepped out from behind the column. Hovering above the ground like a ghost, Death slowly rose up the white steps and slithered above the two writhing bodies beneath him.

He slowly meandered through the open doors and once he passed, a strip of cloth shut them.

Candle lit eyes roamed through the mansion's entrance.

Before him, a wide open hall stretched. The floor was marble and above, an iridescent chandelier lit the expansive space. To both the right and left, a curved stairway led above, but Death saw through the stone and wood that built this home

With |Spirit Eyes|, Death saw the souls move through the mansion. On the first floor, twelve signatures roamed the area. On the second floor, eight and in the basement — Death saw the traces of over twenty souls tightly compacted together.

The souls below, though, seemed different than the rest. They seemed weaker, flickered gentler, and what was supposed to be bright and joyous instead appeared gray and hopeless.

Interestingly, apart from the oddities of the souls below, another soul stood distinct from the rest.

This soul was on the second floor, far in the back of the mansion, quite a distance away. This soul burned beside another, mundane, soul which was the only reason Death was able to recognize its differences.

The soul in question was slightly brighter, yes, but its depth was different. Death found it hard to analyze, but it presented a similar feeling as gazing into an endless sea — the bottom simply could not be perceived. All that could be seen was the mere fact that it was deep, deeper than a pond, for example, or a lake.

Even lakes of which the bottom cannot be seen, the darkness that encapsulates it is different.

Similarly, this soul — although slightly brighter — contained a depth of light Death could not see the end of.

Curious, Death made his way towards the irregular soul.

He floated up the steps and glided through the halls. As he traveled, he passed even more marble busts, renaissance paintings, and various artifacts kept securely placed behind glass casings.

Up on his right, Death watched two soul signatures approach from the hallway's intersection.

Death dipped into his Spirit. Suddenly, a thin film of corruption slid across the edge of two pieces of cloth. Vantablack, the pieces of cloth devoured light itself as it traveled.

The guards turned the corner.

*shing*

The pieces of cloth momentarily hardened. Their soft and supple edge transformed into that of a blades' and without the guard's themselves noticing — their heads rolled off their shoulders.

*thud*

And plummeted to the red carpeted floor.

Death continued unperturbed. His ghostly visage floated at a constant pace and as he passed the two headless corpses — they too collapsed to the ground.

In the maze-like abomination that is Emilio's mansion, Death advanced towards the flickering soul and each time a guard stumbled near him, their heads would fly.

***

Days passed since the fight for metal. Now claimed on behalf of the humans, another group of men was stationed there twenty-four-seven.

Thus far, the Orc's remained quiet. They hadn't tried to recapture the ore yet, but Isaac felt it was inevitable. As such, he had the boys build a few more buildings.

These huts, however, these makeshift cabins, were scattered around the crater about six miles from camp. It was there that Isaac and Olive settled: on the border between us and them, human and inhuman.

Olive naturally had no opinion where she stayed. Her focus was her skill, her craft. It was something she prioritized above all else — strength. As such, Isaac invited a few more faces to live on the under-construction mine.

If Olive wanted to train, she'd need people to train with — right?

Koa lived there. Darnell did too. Even Teddy.

Teddy was the first person Isaac invited (forced) to live near the crater. His Ability, that of communicating with plant-life, was their gem in the rough. Although not combat oriented, Teddy was an incredible scout in the making.

A person who would be so vital in the future that they simply could not afford to be lax in his beginning.

Besides Teddy, Darnell volunteered. After his close encounter with death, Darnell searched within and what he found did not please him.

Darnell suddenly felt weak — a feeling he had worked his whole life to escape; the very reason he started boxing to begin with. And through boxing, Darnell found strength.

On Earth, the mundane person could not scare Darnell anymore.

But here, in the outskirts of the universe, against beasts the likes of which had never before been seen — Darnell suddenly felt weak again. So he needed to train and who better to train with than the very person who saved him?

Then, there was Koa.

Koa kept to himself. He was quiet and did his best not to affiliate with many, but he could not escape Isaac's tyranny.

If Teddy was their future scout — then Koa was their future glass cannon.

Not only that, but Koa wielded power unlike the rest. His Ability was destruction reincarnate. A feat only similar in prowess to a single person before him — Skyler Parker.

Skyler Parker, another Awakened with a gift so geared towards destruction that she once completely wiped out a division of Awakened without even meaning to.

In addition to Teddy, Darnell, and Koa, there was an unexpected fourth.

A boy named Clark.

A boy, not due to his age since he turned twenty-four this year, but due to his appearance: plump and rosey skin, thick and voluptuous strands of brown hair, and well — he was short.

Clark was pudgy and cute and he stood out from the rest of the men summoned, his physicality especially. For the most part, Clark was useless.

He hasn't been able to activate his Ability yet. He's neither strong nor endurant enough to assist with construction and his hands are so soft and so delicate that even weaving grass leaves him cripled for hours at a time.

So why did Clark volunteer for what appears to be the most strenuous and dangerous job thus far?

"I like Olive." He told Isaac one day.

"You two seem close —" He continued, "would you put in a good word for me?"

Meanwhile, Isaac stared at the blueberry boy beneath him. For a moment, he was stunned.

Isaac spent every second of every waking moment in heat. He constantly thought about the camp, the Orcs, the ore, the future women, Earth, his wife — Isaac had never been so stressed. Although he would never admit it, he actually missed scumbag Sutton.

And now he had to add middle-school romance into his schedule?

'Ridiculous!' Isaac thought.

"I will do no such thing —" Isaac shut him down, "however, we're moving to the ore deposit in two days. You're free to join us. You can talk to Olive there."

Immediately, Clark agreed.

///LostNoteFound///

Moofin and Hooverfh!! Thanks for the stones!! :D