Shattered Line

Chapter 41: Cost of Life

The King turned to him and the Noble flinched, his posture slouching.

"Sarr'ock, speak your useless thoughts again, and you'll never think them again," he growled. The air mimicked his mood, heavy and murderous. His gaze reunited with hers but narrowed. "Your hand," he commanded.

Isla nodded, raising her palm open. He shifted his gleaming red Zweihänder, slicing her skin, the motion swift and painless. Blood droplets oozed free, dripping down her arm.

He copied the act, red blood appeared, contrasting the tanned skin. The exposed life-fluid levitated into streams, circulating his hand. Each droplet followed the twisting rivulet, defying nature.

They may be different races, but their blood resembled one another. How odd. The sight and meaning held an unspeakable weight.

He snorted, drawing her attention back. "Begin," he commanded.

"Begin what? I don't enact blood contracts on a daily basis. Explain," she retorted before clamping her mouth tight and lowering her gaze. "I'm sorry. Please explain for this fool."

He donned no change. If her contentious words drew anger, she obtained no fist. "Combine your blood with aura," he voiced, deep and hard.

Isla directed aura upon his instructions and glanced upwards, waiting.

He snatched her hand, locking his fingers.

"Say your demands," he added while squeezing his grip.

Isla released a haggard breath then swallowed. "Help me end my father's life, for good."

"The day your father dies, I own you."

His declaration reverberated through her. Was she making a terrible mistake? Would this not be far worse? She had a chance, she could still run. Her heart leaped, thumping wild and fast.

Her hand burned as tendrils of blood coiled around their connection. The liquid entwined them, suctioning her skin. With the blood's movements ending, her aura reacted, challenging the contact without her discretion. Yet, nothing partitioned their connection, instead, her aura drained. Her knees weakened and her head sagged.

He released her limp hand, retracting his back. Without pause, his exposed wound disappeared, and skin tone blended. Her eyes widened, scrutinizing her own. She noted the soft pink flesh fringed by purple discoloration. He exceeded her regeneration. Or did all Demons heal quick?

"Sarr'ock," he barked.

"Yes, your greatness, Lord Calimitrin Ignas Mascero." The Noble scampered forward, his body prostrated before his King, his head bent.

"Tell the generals to prepare their men."

"Yes, of course, my Lord." He crept upwards, bowing consecutively as he scurried away.

The King pivoted, his cape whirling alongside. He strode towards an exterior corridor obscured behind the watchful Nobles and low hanging banners. His men divided on his approach, bowing before his passage. They each straightened a stride later, following his exit.

"Well, that went well," Asterick chuckled.

"A little too well?" Lance questioned.

Isla's stomach tussle mellowed and she breathed deep, her lungs invigorated by dust-coated air. Better, but not whole. She sold herself, nothing would revoke this truth. She sighed, and her gaze wandered, spying Lucifer's stiff form. His eyes darkened, their irises pinpointed upon his King's retire.

She inched towards him, massaging her healing hand. "Lucifer?"

He remained fixated without a response. She touched his arm, eradicating his trance-like state. "Nothing, my dear," he replied, peeking at her. "Now, let us make our own preparations."

"You don't have to come."

The darkness clouding his vision faded and their previous red richness returned. "Nonsense. I will and I should."

She nodded, training her view on the throne chair. "Fine," she murmured.

"That does not make you happy?"

"It's not that. I'm grateful, truly." Isla paused, searching for the answer. "But my choice. No, nevermind. It's too late to regret."

"I cannot decry your worries, but know that I'll assist in any way possible."

"Stop. You've done more than enough, Lu."

"Your praise blinds me."

"Cracking jokes now, are we?" Isla quipped.

He laughed. "I've come far in my old age."

Isla smirked and rubbed her brow. Should she tell him about her father? Explaining before she sought death held weight—no, she should. "You know, I finally met him."

"Was he everything you thought he would be?" Lucifer questioned, facing her.

"A complicated experience." She cleared her throat. "I expected more, perhaps more hate and anger. I had always thought I earned his hatred from my mother's death. But it wasn't there. I didn't see it. Why did he hunt me? Why now, does he choose to earn my trust or allegiance instead? Too many questions and I fear none will ever be answered."

"Does knowing matter? Would it change your portrayal of him?"

"No. I'd be an idiot to believe such."

"Then gain what you can, that's all you can do."

He was right, but the understanding neither removed nor quelled the underlying feelings. She wanted to know, painfully so.

"Don't get confused by his words, remember him for what he's done."

For a moment, Isla shut her eyes, her forehead nagging. She stroked the point, soothing the dull ache. She must forget her looming woes, only actions paved her pathway to victory, not her worries. Once more, Arcadia beckoned her. Her last stop before challenging Elysium.

She returned her attention to Lucifer. "I need to head to Arcadia before this fight. There's something I must do."

"Very well. I'll keep his excellency busy," he responded with a playful bow before her.

She smirked, short and quick before spreading her aura. She pictured the marketplace, the rows of shops lining the street, but most importantly, the operational base of Varnis.

A/N: Things are heating up, almost to the end! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.