Chapter 705: True Demonlord [36] (1/2)

Greetings Lord Alchemist, I hope the note finds thee well. I would have opted for a more modern means of communication under different circumstances. The military has taken to restricting information in and out of the area. Trying times means I needed to improvise, what better way than analog. Rant aside, the reason for said letter is to request assistance. A certain individual from the Cobalt unit has arrived to conduct experiments on 'turned' and 'monsters'. An issue for doctors to leave the premises was issued, only certified medics were allowed to treat the patients. I currently write this from the hospice – far from what rumors say, the patients aren't necessarily wounded, liberty is taken whether one is hurt or not. More and more of the vigilantes are being ordered to permanently stay around Zone 3 and the dreaded infested land of Zone 4. Ever since the defeat of Antronla and the loss of Squad 28, 32, and 33, there is not much hope left. I have no idea what or why I've decided to write the note. How to start and end the conflict. It feels wrong, my conscience warns me, if matters do not change for the better, the military will turn the area into a research facility. The late Aptha's rescuer, the elven girl, was spotted walking well and good at the dormitory. The Alchemist Quarters has become a taboo subject in presence of the soldiers, the vigilantes are hopeful matters may change from Q5 Zone 3. I've rambled on long enough, word of warning, the dormitory isn't a haven any longer, either find a way to import supplies or be subject to the strictness of unbounded military power.

'Sign by Ada Rapht,' he paused, '-things aren't looking good for the vigilantes. Information blackout and the Cobalt unit, this doesn't smell so great. Why did a fellow Ardanian get involved.'

*Incoming transmission,* displayed across the lens, ”-what's the matter?”

”Igna, the dormitory isn't willing to grant access,” gunfire diffused in pants and cries, ”-more running less talking,” reverberated in the distance. ”-What should we do?”

”Retreat and don't turn back. Kill if you have to, I'll take responsibility.”

”Understo-” *Transmission Interrupted.* 'Trouble follows like my shadow,' glimpsed to the unconscious ladies, '-at least the drug's moving along nicely,' he smiled, '-Henzh's blood was the right guess. A cure can be made to counteract the curse and perhaps undo the 'turned' effect.'

*Knock, knock,*

”Who is it?”

”Hina here,”

”Enter,” he stepped out the research room, ”-the whole crew is here.”

”There's something we need to discuss,” said she in a somber tone. A look to the corner showed the messenger, '-he must have run his mouth.'

”Not here, the ladies are resting.”

Snaps landed, Meza sprinted faster than ever before, soon after, the armored unit pelted out of sight, ”-are they serious?” she gasped.

”The military for you,” he panted, ”-I knew this would have happened. I'm sure we're reported dead, there's no reason to believe otherwise. Should have been more careful – I doubt they're stupid enough to give chase.”

”Way to jinx,” headlights drove into the rear-view mirror, ”-I'll distract, focus on the road.” Stray boulders and rocks levitated and shot backward. A line of dust zoomed in the distance, ”-look there,” she pointed, ”-a bike and…”

”Yeah, looks like they're being chased,” he drifted around a corner, ”-do it now.”

*Woosh,* a harsh swipe toppled an already shaky structure, ”-make for the biker.” The rider in black sped forth, ”-that's a blocked alley,” cried the princess, ”-buy time,” out the hatch and into the fray. '-Crazy personality,' it made directly for the pursuers.

'If I'm correct,' hovered, '-the alley should have flat slabs,' a ramp swiftly built-in the nick of time, a growl of the bike ended in skids and screeches. *CRASH* smoke rose a few blocks away, ”-I need transport,” transmitted across.

”Meza, what happened?” inquired a calmer voice.

”Bowling I'd say,” he sat before a cacophony of bundled flames, ”-the pursuers are dead, the alchemist said to kill if needed right?” *Grrr* vibrations resonated, '-the structures' shaking.' A tall reaching building shadowed the streets, broken glass, a non-existent entrance blocked by furniture. Dark-brownish stains on the floor remain of rotten meat in a once flowerbed and a sense of uneasiness.

”Where are you?”

”Follow the pile of smoke,” the rumbles intensified, the heart raced, ”-hey, I think there may be monsters hiding in the building I'm currently under…” strained to stare the upper floors, '-oh god, crawlers,' quadruplets of disgusting appearances, roach-like in some instances and spiders in others, salivated. Goo landed to a slight fizz, '-acidic breath, seriously…'

”RUN THEN!” cried the earpiece.

”Thing is, I might have sprained my ankle in the landing…” a clueless chuckle upward didn't help the situation, a bone-breaking sound and wings coated in green spread nastily, the foul stench of sulphur and rotten meat permeated. '-Stand up Meza,' the hands glued in fear, '-why do they have to be insects,' he cringed, '-damned phobia, I-I…' The morbid grayness of the scene amplifies by a slow-rolling mist to the side. Streets, alleys, buildings, broken cars, and even the sky, was swept under a tsunami of fog. Slow-paced waves cherished the trip, Fia scanned the area erratically, the biker of before spun and left.

'Just my luck, insects up top and fogs to the side. I had to try and be an idiot.' Characteristic high pitch buzz fluttered; '-I so wished those flaps to have been pigeons…'

”Stop being an idiot,” green hues surrounded, crushed, and squeezed the bodily juices, Meza gagged.

”-Seriously?” hands on her hips, ”-the great strategist Meza is afraid of some insects?” a buzz stopped short of her neck, ”-pest,” a grit and the latter tore into pieces, he hurled. *touf, touf, touf,* deep and prominent, ”-Meza, we have trouble,” she gulped, ”-that sound doesn't inspire great news…”

”Why?” he wiped his mouth, ”-another monster?”

”No, far worse. The fog's here… the sound's associated to the envoys of Satuel. Little insects able to replicate any monster's ability,' heavy footsteps gave into scraping metals.

”Stand up.”

”I can't,” a look told of a different story, ”-my ankle isn't sprained, I've broken it…”

No sooner than a second, a figure flashed between the duo, dove into the fog, and eradicated the sizeable presence. Meza, still on his bottom beside the pool of vomit, crawled to the sidewalk. The outline of a lady exited the mist, orbs of black levitated in a circle. A show of the index and the orbs funneled out of existence. Heels against the asphalt, ”-are you familiar with the name Haggard?” the bike autonomously followed.

”Who might you be?” inquired Fia.

”A humble companion. I appreciate the help earlier,” she took off the helmet, ”-the place is far worse than I'd imagined,” locked onto the displaced ankle, ”-the kamikaze who dove headfirst,” *snap,* he hovered, ”-I'll lock the bones in place, might hurt a little.”

'Who's this pretty lady,' wondered Fia, '-there's a familiar aura about her.'

”Hold on a moment, what happened to the monsters in the fog?”

”Killed them, those weaklings aren't sufficed to be labeled monsters. Insects are but insects, they are to be crushed promptly. My question?”

”The Alchemist quarters a walk away. I don't mind flying there…”

”Sure, take the lead, I'll carry the headstrong gentleman.”

Another note was handed to the messenger, ”-here, a few potions to aid in future combat. Come as a squad next time,” said Igna.

”Understood sir,” the man ran off while stranger outlines appeared against the cloudy sky, ”-we're home,” said Fia, ”-Meza's broken the ankle, care to help?”