Tyssa: "Hope I can make it in time...!"
She raced up the stairs, her breaths coming quick, her heart hammering.
She tried to keep quiet -- she really did -- but the urgency outweighed caution.
The thick wool carpet muffled her hurried footsteps, and her slim frame helped her slip through the shadows. Still, every second spent here was another second Punjo and Rel fought for their lives.
She reached the upper floor -- but then froze.
Tyssa (hushed): "Shit... Now which way...?"
Two corridors stretched before her.
Each identical...
... Each a gamble.
Her stomach twisted at the thought of choosing the wrong path. Every second lost -- every step in the wrong direction -- could mean death.
Tyssa strained her ears.
Nothing.
The mansion's thick walls swallowed all sound...
It was eerily peaceful. Too peaceful.
Biting her lip, she prepared to pick blindly when --
She noticed it.
The carpet!
Where she stepped, the plush fibers flattened easily. And when she looked closer -- she saw them.
Footprints.
Two sets. One heavy, one lighter, pressed into the wool, leading down one of the halls.
Tyssa: "... Jargen."
A relieved smile flickered across her face as she followed the trail.
He had been there not long ago.
But was he still in one piece?
At the end of the corridor, sound finally reached her.
A sharp crack. Wood splintering.
Tyssa’s breath hitched.
Fighting? Guards?!
She picked up her pace, reaching what she hoped to be the office.
Dark streaks stained the doorframe.
A trail led inside.
She swallowed hard, placing a trembling hand on the door.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Then -- silence.
All noise within stopped.
Her heart pounded.
Was someone waiting on the other side? Had she been heard?
She hesitated.
One second.
Two.
Then, before she could move --
The door burst open.
Tyssa stumbled forward with a yelp, hands bracing against --
Something solid.
Something leather...
A folder. Thick. Heavy. Stuffed with papers -- maps, scribbled notes, plans.
And standing above her, blood-drenched and breathing heavily --
Jargen!
Tyssa’s eyes snapped up.
His chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths. His hands dripped red. His eyes, bloodshot, stared past her -- as if she weren’t even there.
And he was smiling...
A horrible, toothy grin.
Tyssa: "J-Jargen...!"
He didn’t respond.
Just shoved the folder into her hands and kept walking -- right past her, right down the way she had come.
Tyssa: "By the gods..."
Her fingers tightened around the bloody folder. But even as she held it, she couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting -- to the room beyond.
It looked like a warzone.
No...
Like a wild animal had been set loose...
... Or a monster.
The once-grand office was unrecognizable.
Furniture lay in ruins. The heavy oak desk -- splintered, gutted open, its insides hollowed out where the documents must have been hidden.
The floor was missing in places.
The walls -- riddled with traps and fresh arrows.
And then -- the blood.
Splattered across bookshelves. The walls. The ceiling.
It was everywhere.
Tyssa’s stomach twisted.
What the hell happened here...?
And then she realized --
Syl was gone.
Her breath hitched.
No body.
No trace of him at all.
She shuddered, her fingers gripping the bloodstained folder. Whatever had taken place there... it wasn’t just a fight. It was a massacre.
And Jargen -- the only one who could answer her questions -- was all too eager to leave it all behind.
Tyssa: "W-wait...!"
She ran after him.
His footsteps were slow, heavy, but his pace never faltered.
Tyssa: "Jargen, listen to me!"
No response.
Tyssa: "Punjo and Rel -- they’re fighting! In the lab!"
Nothing.
She moved beside him, walking fast, desperate to keep up.
Tyssa: "It's horrible! It's twice the size of a man -- stronger, faster -- it's got all of these arms, and it’s ripping the whole place apart!"
Still, Jargen didn’t stop.
Didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t even acknowledge her words.
Tyssa quickened her pace, keeping up beside him. When she glanced at his face --
Her stomach twisted.
Jargen was grinning.
Ear to ear.
Blood dripped from his forehead, streaking down his cheek, staining his teeth red. His knuckles -- bruised and raw -- were clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. His arm bled freely, gripping a dagger Tyssa had never seen before.
He didn’t look like himself.
Didn’t feel like himself.
Jargen: "Sounds like a good fight. Like a DAMN good fight."
Tyssa froze.
She stared as he marched forward, unwavering. Steady. Certain.
Driven.
A cold chill crept up her spine.
Tyssa (hushed): "Jargen... What happened to you...?"
As Jargen descended the stairs, something caught his eye.
A coat rack.
Hanging from it -- a paperboy cap. A long scarf.
Without breaking stride, he reached out -- gripping them with one hand and yanking them free.
The coat rack toppled.
He didn’t even glance back.
Instead, he adjusted the cap, tilting it low -- just enough to shadow his gaze.
With expert hands, he wrapped the scarf around his neck, securing it in a fluid motion.
Jargen: "Let’s make it one for the ages."
He let the dagger drop.
Fists met fists.
Blood splattered.
Tyssa flinched as she followed, eyes darting to the discarded blade.
Hesitant, she grabbed it.
Its hilt was worn, smooth from years of use. As she turned it, three faded letters caught her eye.
S. Y. L.
Her breath hitched.
Tyssa (hushed): "Syl... i-is he...?"
She didn’t want to know the answer.
Didn’t dare ask.
Jargen marched ahead.
His shoulders square. His pace certain.
Tyssa (hushed): "I don't know what's gotten into you, but please... Please save them, Jargen..."
And then --
He spoke.
Softly.
Low.
Jargen: "I will."
Tyssa’s eyes widened.
Her whisper had been too faint, even to her own ears.
But somehow -- some way -- he heard.
Jargen: "Punjo and Rel aren’t dying today."
