ALL NOVEL Chapter-38 Soul
The screams and the salvo of bullets ripped the silence apart, they were near. Ewan stretched his limbs, popped his neck, and got ready to head out; his choice was to fight back. Toast went back into the tattoo and Orange and Frost took their position as vanguards. Though Iris healed most of his wounds, Ewan still lacked blood and didn’t want to use <Blood Rein> yet. So, he picked up the dark-brown tower shield with a chunky layer of ice on the outer surface and moved it around to acquaint his hand with it. It would protect him from the bullets while he commanded his Astylinds, or at least he hoped it would. The ice layer that Frost created was for insurance; in case it couldn’t.
The trio moved away from the bakery and to the stairs. Ewan thudded the one Novas shield before the narrow stair opening, its curved edges keeping it up, and hid behind the wall by the side with Orange and Frost. One after another, the burst of discharge snuffed the screams on the floor below, and some steps came closer when quiet descended. They were moving up and it was more than one person.
A bout of hysterical cackle followed a barrage of bullets. Ewan released a quiet breath and took out his ‘Obsidian Dagger’ as the bullet shower chipped and shredded the ice layer on the shield, pushing it back, the wood scraping the tiled floor with a groan. Ice shards scattered about, some pecked Ewan, most wet the stairs.
The sound of rifles raced in sync. Ewan counted and presumed, also factoring in the sound of steps. There were three people, all firing at the same time. He waited for them to stop, and soon they did. They were now reloading.
Go!
Ewan grabbed the shield with his left hand, dagger in his right, and dove down the stairs. Orange and Frost followed suit.
“Fuck!!” One of the masked men screamed. The other two backed away from Ewan’s path, but he hammered one down to the floor with the shield, using all his strength to crush him under.
Throat!!
Orange blasted towards one of the masked men, the step below him blackened and cracked. The man made no moves, he stood frozen, as his eyes reflected the little monkey and his feral grin. Orange used his explosive Fire-Anima and clobbered his throat.
“Hel…” His neck exploded into blood and gore with the boom ripping half his face apart before his word ended. It painted the walls red with gooey pieces of muscles, bones, and brain sliding down. His lifeless and headless body plopped down as the stench of burnt skin and blood wafted.
While Orange completed his kill, Frost had already hurled and jammed an icicle in the second masked-man’s throat who fumbled and dropped the rifle’s magazine. He gurgled and reached for his neck with trembling hands, his body twitched, and he collapsed. His death was far less gory, but he died, nonetheless. Ewan too stabbed the man he was suppressing, reaching from the side of the shield. But he missed the throat and stabbed his shoulder instead.
The man screamed and wrestled. He heaved the shield up, but Ewan held it down with all his might and then some. He shanked the dagger out and knifed again without aiming. This time it was the side of his chest; it plunged in his lungs.
The masked man gasped for breath, his inhales ending in whistles.
Die already!
Ewan flung the shield aside and pushed the dagger in his throat with a grunt, all his weight behind the stab. Warm blood splattered on his contorted face, some got in his mouth. The taste of iron… His eyes gleamed green for a second but faded away soon. This was not the time to let his instincts run amuck—he reined it in.
The man died and Ewan rolled to the side, heaving for air. He didn’t move much in this fight yet was already out of breath, and his heart pounded. His face was feverish, the ceiling blurred, and his throat parched; it stung when he gulped.
Orange, with not a hint of blood on him, ran to Ewan and hopped on his chest, up and down, screeching.
“Yeah, you did good,” Ewan said with a smile and patted his head, his breath slowing down.
Frost?
He sensed extreme hunger from Frost. The little imp stood beside the corpses, staring at them, his intense emotions flooding Ewan’s senses.
You want to eat them?
Souls, Frost gave a vague reply through their connection. After a moment of thought, Ewan agreed. Frost grabbed at the air above the corpses and stuffed the empty hand in his mouth. Only a few minutes later, after Frost relished and digested it all, Ewan sensed its effects. He grew stronger; he verged on the Level-2 barrier now.
Was it a Demon thing? Orange didn’t react to it, so it should be.
Ewan frowned and mulled; he should change his plans. He wanted to stay on this floor until the mayhem settled down and only fight back when they came for him. Because fighting them didn’t benefit him in any way. But Frost changed things. If he could grow by eating souls, the current situation would become an all-you-can-eat buffet for him. And this was a special case—the law wouldn’t punish Ewan for killing them. It shouldn’t….
“They’re the ones attacking. I’m only defending myself….” he muttered.
The rifles could make it easier for him to fight back; he picked one up and checked. Alas, the biometric lock nulled his idea, he threw it away with a defeated sigh as its plastic stock cracked on the marbled steps. It also killed his budding plan of disguising as one of them in its infancy. The lack of a rifle could give him away, and if he carried one anyway, the red light on the trigger would be his doom.
So, after the body check of the three dead ones didn’t bear fruit, he moved on.
The shield held tight in his left hand, he edged down the stairs to the floor below, his supple joints silencing his movements. His knuckles had turned white, and sweat drenched his hair, rolling down his temples. Orange and Frost were once again the vanguards, they mimicked Ewan and moved without any noise.