"Hey, Vondak," Miles said, forcing a grin as he scratched the back of his head. "Why do you keep saying I'm not from around here?"
Vondak turned to him, his dark eyes gleaming with something unsettling. His lips curled into a sadistic smile. "Because, Miles," he said, dragging out the words, "you would know about my thirst for good fighters." He ended the sentence by licking his finger slowly, as though savouring a thought.
Miles felt a chill run down his spine. This guy is seriously creepy, he thought, trying not to show his unease.
"And what exactly do you mean by 'your thirst for good fighters'?" Miles asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Vondak stepped closer, his movements deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. He licked his lips, the gesture making Miles instinctively tense.
"When my father was alive," Vondak began, his tone unnervingly calm, "he was the only one who could keep me in check. He was unmatched—no matter how hard I trained, I could never surpass him."
Miles noticed Vondak's expression shift, a strange mix of admiration and something darker glinting in his eyes.
"The countless sparring sessions, the relentless drills—he always came out on top," Vondak continued. "At first, I hated it. The frustration, the humiliation... but over time, I began to crave it. I even interrupted his meetings just to demand another sparring match."
Vondak stopped a step away, his grin stretching wider, the corners of his mouth glistening with saliva.
"But now, Miles," Vondak said, his voice lowering to a near whisper, "I'm asking you. Please… take me to heaven."
Miles grimaced, forcing an awkward laugh. "First off… eww. Just—eww. You need some serious help. Maybe when we get to Alpha Dawn, there'll be a doctor who can fix whatever this is." He turned back to the helm, muttering under his breath, "Seriously, what did I get myself into?"
Behind him, Vondak let out a low, guttural chuckle. "I can't take it anymore," he said, his voice trembling with a twisted excitement. "I want it so bad."
Miles tensed, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the helm. "You want what?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder cautiously.
A sudden force slammed into Miles like a wrecking ball. It was a swirling mass of dark smoke, moving with an unnatural speed. Miles crashed into the helm, the impact sending the ship lurching violently to one side.
"Vondak!" Miles shouted, struggling to get his footing.
The dark mass shifted and coiled behind him, solidifying into Vondak's unmistakable form. His grin was broader than ever, and his eyes burned with an eerie, malevolent glow.
Miles stared at him in disbelief, his breath hitching. "What the hell…?"
Vondak stepped forward, the deck creaking under his deliberate movements. "Surprised, Miles?" he asked, his voice smooth yet dripping with menace.
The helm sputtered, sparks flying as it cracked under the force of Miles' earlier collision. The ship began to spiral, its once-smooth flight turning chaotic. Miles scrambled to steady it, but the controls were unresponsive.
"Are you insane?! You're going to crash us!" Miles yelled, his panic mounting.
Vondak didn't seem to care. He loomed closer, his grin unwavering. "Oh, Miles," he murmured, his tone almost playful. "Give...me everything you have got."
Miles' mind raced, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The ship's not responding—We are going to crash! Panic tightened around his chest, but he pushed it aside. I have to get off. Fast. If I ever want to see Laurel again, I can't let this fool drag me down.
His eyes flicked over the broken controls, desperation setting in. The ship groaned, leaning dangerously to one side, and the deck tilted beneath his feet. With a sharp breath, Miles slid to the edge of the ship, grabbing his sword with a tight grip, knuckles white with determination. His heart hammered in his chest, but his mind stayed focused.
Vondak, smirking wickedly, disappeared into the shadows, vanishing without a trace.
Miles' mind raced as he glanced down at the moonlit canopies below, the trees swaying like dark sentinels beneath him. His pulse thundered in his ears, but there was no time to hesitate. With a swift breath, he gathered his strength, launching himself off the edge of the ship.
Crimson stood alone in the dense woods, his teeth gritted as he bit his lip. I shouldn't have gone after Gale, he thought, but now wasn't the time to dwell on that. He turned his gaze toward the looming mountains ahead. "Don't worry, Lilith. Don't worry, Gale," he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched tight. "I'll come for you before Nox does something I know she will regret." With that, he dashed off down the path leading toward the mountains.
Above him, the moonlight illuminated a shadowy figure—a massive bird hovering over the forest, its wings casting an eerie silhouette. Crimson smirked.
Without hesitation, he adjusted his pace, his eyes locking on the bird above. "That should work."
Crimson's speed increased as he pushed himself harder, weaving through the trees. With a swift leap, he planted his right foot against one tree and used it as a springboard to launch himself toward another. His body moved like a shadow in the night, agile and relentless. He climbed to the top of the tree, quickly positioning himself for his next move.
With a sharp whistle, he called to the bird.
The creature's immense beak let out an ear-splitting screech that echoed through the woods. Crimson winced, covering his ears as the bird's call reverberated through the air.
The massive beast descended with terrifying speed, its wide mouth gaping, intent on swallowing Crimson whole. But he was already in motion.
Using the momentum from his perch, Crimson bounced off the treetop, shooting into the air. The bird followed, its beak snapping in pursuit. Crimson's heart raced, but his focus never wavered. Mid-flight, he conjured a rope from thin air, his hands deftly tying it as the bird soared beneath him.
As the bird passed, Crimson made a quick, graceful turn in midair, looping the rope over its beak and pulling it tight. The creature thrashed, struggling to shake him off, but Crimson was relentless. With a forceful kick, he slammed his legs into the bird's sides, his grip tightening on the rope as he adjusted his position.
The bird's violent struggles began to slow as Crimson reached forward with one hand, gently stroking the bird's feathers as if calming it with a touch. Slowly, the creature stopped fighting, its wings beating less frantically. Crimson guided it expertly, the two of them soaring toward the mountains, the winds howling beneath them.