— He was a man with a toned physique, torn clothes, and a light stubble; he was running toward Obi, his right hand clutching what remained of his left arm as he bled out, running as if trying to escape from something or someone. Obi abandoned the idea of grabbing his axe and pulled out a knife instead; it was a situation where he thought it best to keep his axe tucked away in case he needed to launch a surprise attack. He was too exhausted from last night—if he had to fight, he'd have to try to finish off his enemy with a single blow—
"Stop right there,"
— Obi said, pointing his knife at the man who had stopped about seven meters away from him —
"If you move, I'll finish the job of whoever left you in this state."
"Please save me, I beg you, don't leave me in their hands."
"Who are you running from?"
What a stupid question, as if he knew anyone here.
— Obi's muscles relaxed when he saw the man begin to cry, his eyes pleading for his life —
"I beg you, I have someone to take care of. Don't leave me here. Don't leave me in their hands."
— Those words, combined with the tears streaming from his eyes, were enough for Oberon to lower his weapon, letting out a deep sigh at the situation unfolding before him.
He approached the man, helping him to his feet —
What am I doing? The exhaustion of climbing is making me empathetic.
"All right, we'd better discuss this somewhere else for now."
— That's how they began walking away from where they were; there was no argument. Oberon was too busy pondering why he was helping a stranger.
Guided by that man, they ended their walk by entering an old warehouse, where Obi dropped him to the floor. He watched as the man gripped his severed arm tightly to stem the bleeding as much as he could —
"I don't have any bandages for your arm."
"Use my clothes."
"Do you have any disinfectant?"
"There are a few bottles of alcohol in the boxes behind you."
— There weren't many boxes, and when Oberon opened one, he saw they were bottles of drinking alcohol —
"This won't work."
"Why? Didn't you want to use alcohol to disinfect the wounds?"
"Yes, the problem is that the alcohol concentration must be between 70% and 90%; alcoholic beverages only have between 35% and 45% at most—it'll do you more harm than good."
— Oberon turned back to the man, tearing off the man's clothes and using them to tie a knot around the severed arm, pressing firmly and steadily. You could see the man clenching his eyes shut as he endured the pain. Oberon continued like this, pressing hard for ten minutes to stop the wound from bleeding —
"I hope that's enough. Keep the wound elevated; that way, the blood will have a harder time reaching it."
"Than… thank you, thank you so much."
"Information would be more valuable to me than your thanks."
— The man lowered his head, acknowledging the control Oberon had over him —
"My name is Guils. I'll tell you everything I know."
"Perfect. Let's start with what's most important right now: who left you in this state?"
"I'm part of a band of mercenaries from the underworld. My team and I were tasked with guarding a warehouse containing special minerals."
"Minerals? Like the ones floating above the city?"
"Yes, the floating gems you see are a specific mineral, Caelumite. They're minerals not found on every world, and they have unusual properties. We were guarding Hidrovoltites; we were supposed to wait for someone and take them to Fantasis, but…"
— Guils paused; he was trembling as he recalled what had happened to him —
"He appeared, wielding a peculiar weapon. He decapitated one of my comrades with a cold stare, a gaze fixed on the ground, as if he were unconscious. He killed all my comrades without even showing a single emotion, as if it were just another job to cross off his list, as if he were merely a puppet. it was a scene of horror. I tried to help, but as soon as he cut off my arm, all I could think of was running away, using my comrades as a distraction."
A peculiar sword? Could it be Krax?
"Was he wearing a red raincoat?"
—Guils shook his head to indicate no—
"No, he was wearing unusual clothing. I wouldn't know how to describe what he was wearing other than that it looked like noble attire but simpler. It was the first time I'd seen that kind of clothing. The only colors that stood out were black, white, and the red of the blood he was spilling."
That doesn't help me much, and it doesn't seem like he's going to give me any more interesting answers. Should I get rid of him?
"Where do you want to go?"
"Are you really going to keep helping me?"
"Well, for your sake, I hope I don't change my mind."
"There's a warehouse a little further from here. We weren't the only group that was hired."
"That guy you told me about—is there a chance he attacked them too?"
"No. If he let me escape, it means he was only interested in the Hydrovoltites. If he were a hired mercenary, he wouldn't work overtime, and besides, he probably doesn't even know about this warehouse."
"I hope you're right."
"Because I'll abandon you as soon as I see it getting dangerous."
— Oberon took Guils by the arm again, helping him up, and Guils guided him toward the warehouse. On the way, no one spoke; Obi just watched the rats scatter as he approached, until he spotted a butterfly that caught his attention—something Guils noticed—
"Looks like you like butterflies."
"Insects. I don't play favorites; I like insects in general."
"Really? What could you possibly like about such disgusting creatures?"
"That's just your point of view, but they're fascinating creatures with incredible traits, and those that live in hives display an amazing level of social structure."
— Oberon's words made Guils laugh, but he quickly stopped due to the pain —
"What's so funny?"
"You remind me a lot of my little brother; he also loves insects, except for spiders."
"Is she the one you're looking after?"
— Guils' expression was somewhat sad —
"Yes, she's all I have left, and I'm all she has left."
"Is that why you went into the underworld?"
"Mercenary work was getting more and more dangerous as the number of infected beasts increased. I didn't want to die and leave her alone, so I took the path that seemed safest to me—and also paid better."
I feel for him in his situation; making decisions more for his sister than for himself is something to respect.
"And what do you plan to do when you fly in front of her in this state?"
"It'll be hard to show her my severed arm, but better that than dying. Thank you so much."
"It's nothing. By the way, spiders aren't insects."
— A reply that made Guils laugh again before they reached the warehouse. Oberon pushed open the door, standing in shock alongside Guils when he saw that everything was bathed in blood—dismembered bodies, split in half— but what really made Oberon unable to look away was that man standing there, his sword drenched in blood and wearing a red raincoat —