In the west outer hallway, Akira and Griffin stood still. A small trail of blood, like something or someone had been dragged away led forward into a poorly lit section of the castle. They didn’t know this, but that way led to the kitchens.
Judging by the scrapes of blades against the stone walls, whoever this blood belonged to didn’t go down without a fight. Griffin knelt down, picking up a scrap of a finely embroidered cloak, his teeth clenched through his anger.
“Vardon…” he pocketed the cloth, and stood back up to his full stature. “Fuck, who the hell’s strong enough to kill both the cobalt knight and you in a single night? Well, I suppose that kind of monster could exist in the Demon Lord’s castle.”
“Aren’t you upset, your friend is dead… how can you be so casual about it?!” Akira demanded an answer from the beastkin, who refused to turn and face the swordsman properly.
“Damn right I’m upset, but I’ll grieve when it’s safe!” he shouted, slamming his hand against the cold stone bricks. “There’s still someone important to me in this place, I have to track down this murderer and tear out his throat before he hurts her! Vardon will understand if vengeance for him comes second to her protection.”
A distant sound echoed through the hall, traveling down from the way they had come before. The sound of slow footsteps, had one of the others come to search for them? If so, they really shouldn't be traveling alone with a dangerous killer on the loose.
Cheap novels Griffin had read in the capital’s library often told stories like this. Trapped in a location with a killer, everyone turning on one another. It was like a sick joke to be put into such a cliched setup, the killer probably wanted them to devolve into a hysterical mass who couldn’t trust each other… though he couldn’t rule out the idea that somebody here actually was the culprit.
The ones with the most motive were the goblin, but she seemed woefully too weak to slay two powerful heroes, and the Demon Lord himself. But Beelzebub looked to have withered away to almost nothing, could he really be strong enough to do this anymore?
Nobody else had an obvious motive for a crime like this, so the only option is that there was another being alive in this castle. A thirteenth person. It was the only logical explanation to Griffin, who turned to face the direction of the footsteps.
“Making it easy for me, you bastard? Alright then, bring it on.” he clenched his fists and raised them into a trained martial artist’s stance. Akira saw his fellow hero’s body tense up, and raised his own weapon. He looked towards the dimly lit figure as it walked down the hall one slow step at a time.
They couldn’t see the figure’s face, they appeared to be wearing a dark cloak over their head and body. But what they could see was that the figure held a sword at their side, unsheathed and ready to strike.
Akira, also a swordsman, leapt ahead of Griffin. The mysterious attacker swiftly moved, blocking Akira’s sword with his own swing. Their swords clashed again and again, sparks lighting up the dim hall. Akira dipped his head under a wild slash, thrusting his sword forward towards the attacker’s body, but the seemingly male attacker managed to leap back just in time.
The cloaked man held his twisted, evil looking blade to the sky, and it burst into flames. It was none other than the missing cursed blade of the slain Siegfried, Incindra. The flaming sword moved faster than before, cutting through Akira’s blade cleanly. The fire sword cut into the young man’s left shoulder, but he rolled away before he lost the entire arm.
Before he could recover, the cursed sword sank into his gut, and he felt the man’s heavy boot kick him down the hallway. Akira coughed up blood, unable to stand in that moment.
The air was thick with killing intent, both from the attacker, and also the beastkin who stood behind the fallen Akira. He stepped forward, unafraid of the assailant and his enchanted blade. His eyes glowed yellow as the blood of the beast flowed through him, his already impressive muscles bulging even more.
The flaming sword thrust out, but Griffin vanished. His huge body moved at an unbelievable speed, sliding around to the back of the attacking swordsman. His thick, tree trunk-like leg shot out, kicking the exposed back of his opponent, who flew down the hall and stumbled back to his feet.
Griffin rushed him down like a rabid dog, his fists flying at the swordsman in a fury. The attacker became the defender, unable to keep up with the beastkin’s wild moves. Griffin deflected the blade with his left arm, ignoring the cursed flames burning his skin, thrusting his right fist into the swordsman’s chin with a mighty uppercut.
“Get out of here before you bleed out, you idiot!” Griffin called back to the still prone Akira. “I can handle this guy.”
“Urhhg… I’ll be back with the others, St-Stay alive!” Akira struggled to get up, using the wall to support himself as he ran down the hallway.
And soon it was only the two of them. Their fight continued, Griffin’s strength and speed dominating the mysterious opponent. But no matter what he did, the man did not fall. The swordsman fought like a possessed corpse, shrugging off all damage, acting even more as a berserker than Griffin’s wild combat style.
As the battle raged on, Griffin slowed down, various wounds appearing all over his body. But still, the swordsman fought as fierce as the beginning, and the balance of the duel shifted in his favor.
Incindra ripped through Griffin’s chest, bursting out of the man’s back in an inferno of magic flames. The hooded swordsman came in close to the fatally wounded man, close enough that Griffin could finally see his face.
“So that’s how it is… guess looking for Vardon was pointless, huh?” Griffin smirked, defiant to the last breath.
His left hand struck the swordsman in the abdomen, his claws piercing through his flesh. It wasn’t a fatal blow by any metric, but it would certainly hinder him in the future. The swordsman finally showed a reaction to the damage he was taking, staggering back and clutching his bleeding torso.
“I never liked you…” Griffin said, slumping against the wall next to a snow covered window, the middle finger of his right hand frozen in an upward position as he breathed his last.
-
Vi wept, her pale fists pounding against the dead man’s chest. But Griffin did not stir. His body was cold, the blood on his body beginning to dry already. The rest of the guests, and Beelzebub, stood to the side in silence.
“Not again… why?! Why do I have to watch you die again?!” Vi screamed, her tears falling endlessly on the smug looking face griffin had died showing. “Beelzebub!”
She rushed over to the thin demon, shoving him against the wall in her misguided rage.
“Make this stop already, aren’t you the Game Master?!” her voice wailed, her body shaking in anger and sorrow.
“I can’t.” he replied solemnly, his gaze off in the distance. “I told you already… I am not the Game Master. This macabre game isn’t my style, either.”
Nine remain.
