A/N: Yeah so I am really tired right now so, this chapter is raw as a me and that one woman the other day going at it. Just kidding, please don't report me. In any case I am going to put the chapter up and then fix it later, tomorrow morning actually of the grammar and spelling error that is no doubt there but right now I just want to put it up so the readers can enjoy it. Hopefully.
Also to my guest reviewer, for one I suggest you get an account so I can PM you personally. Easy for me that way but meh, it's just my suggestion. Two you wrote down "another Marine author" with me and Faust and yes I know Faust, we've exchanged a couple messages before. For one I'm not a Marine, well I was trying to but I was medically discharged when they found out that I had this eye condition while in boot camp aka recruit training. In short I shipped out this year July 25th and returned home September 5th with my DD214, which is my discharge papers. That really hurt me considering I wanted to be a Marine since I was a kid. In any case my recruiters told me if I wanted to go back I have to do surgery to fix my eyes, gonna be spending hardcore money on that bull shit. So yeah, got discharged and now I'm trying to go back. So there a little about me. Hope that cleared some stuff up.
Anyway, enough with my rambling. Enjoy the story.
The change was sudden and abrupt. One moment he surrounded by the oppressive heat of the Middle East but now he only felt the cool subtle wind that danced across his face. Even more surprising was the change in scenery whereas the boring brown drab of the desert had been replaced by the vibrant green of woodland forests.
Still as amazing and grateful he was to be out of danger there was still one glaring issue. He was in complete agony.
Currently he had a nickel sized hole in his stomach, the only upside being that the bullet punched clean through meaning a smaller exit wound. Still while his guts may have been spared from being exposed to the outside world he was still losing an alarming amount of blood and the problems only continued to mount from there.
Groaning in pain PFC Jayce Allster managed himself into a kneeling position, finally taking taking a good look at his surroundings.
The forest he was in was rather quiet with the birds chirping and the sound of small insects carrying over the gentle breeze. However his eyes caught something else, the other wounded Marines.
They were strewn about on top of each other and for a moment he had thought the two had perished. Only the low groans proved the that they were indeed alive but only just.
Holding his bloody stomach he slowly half crawled, half walked his way to the two wounded. From an immediate viewpoint it didn't look good.
Sergeant Howard had been shot in his right thigh, he wasn't so lucky. The bullet had done it's purpose and practically bulldozed it way through his thigh and left a large exit wound. At this point the limb merely holding on by, quite literally pieces of flesh and skin. The sight made him gag.
Next to the Sergeant was Lance Corporal Luis who had been heavily injured during the opening minutes of the firefight. He was in critical condition with loss of blood, severe concussion and numerous shrapnel wounds both light and deep throughout his body. The injuries he received made him the most injured of the trio and with the Sergeants mangled leg, everything was put on the PFCs shoulder.
Swallowing he began to apply whatever immediate treatment he could do to help stem the bleeding of the Sergeants leg.
Thankfully the two Marines had passed out, making it easier for him to apply the first aid treatment without much trouble.
In the back of his mind however he began to have doubts whether or not he could take care of the two Marines. Their injuries were too fatal and he wasn't too well versed in treating the kind of wounds they had received.
For the briefest of moments he contemplated leaving the Marines to their fate but quickly shot down the idea. He was better than that but to his shame and self hatred, the thought continued to linger long after he finished helping the Marines and began focusing on his own injury.
He didn't know how long he had been treating his bullet wounds but he had noticed that the forest suddenly seemed quiet. Far too quiet for his liking as the sounds of nature that welcomed him disappeared.
Something was coming.
Protect….
He grabbed his rifle and glanced back to the still unconscious Marines.
Run….
A million thoughts raced in his mind, he needed to find someone to help them. Whatever town, village or city he'd be grateful for anything at this point.
More importantly he had to get the two Marines out of here, it was beginning to become dangerous with whatever that was out there and nightfall slowly approaching.
He was running out time both for him and the injured.
"Fuck it." He grunted, moving towards the duo. Taking a knee he winced as a flash of pain speared throughout his stomach. Reaching out towards the Sergeant's face he began lightly tapping his face in an effort to wake him up.
After a couple tries and no luck he sighed in frustration.
Give up…..
Shaking the thought away he began to gently pick the Sergeant up in a fireman's carry, careful to not agitate his injured limb. Grunting at the extra weight he grabbed the Sergeants hand and non injured left leg and held the two together with his right hand. Using his left arm he grabbed the Lance Corporal by the back of his kevlar vest and began slowly dragging him behind him as he walked forward.
He began his walk to salvation however far away it may be.
As he trudged forward, burdened by the weight of two Marines and their equipment, his sense of trepidation grew as the minutes passed.
Constantly, his eyes darted around looking for the unseen threat that was surely there.
Something had been stalking him for a while now, how long he didn't know but by now it had to be a couple hours. Even during his handful of breaks over the course of his lone march the sense of being watched only grew. It didn't help that he was alone in some random land that he had no idea how he got there.
Unless they were magically teleported, which was honestly starting to become a very real possibility as much of an asinine conclusion that was.
He sighed in relief as he reached a clearing. He set the two Marines down gently near a tree, careful to not aggravate their injuries. As he carefully laid Lance Corporal Luis down he took a hesitant glance at his face. It looked unnaturally pale though he had lost a lot of blood so it made sense.
He bit his lips at that before finding something else. Perhaps even more alarming than anything else.
He was getting weaker. Not entirely from physical exhaustion necessarily but something more pressing.
Blood loss.
He could feel his vision slowly swimming in dizziness. It was starting to get bad and he could see that if he didn't get proper medical care soon then, he'd pass out too. Which meant almost certain death for the other two Marines who had been unconscious all this time.
That in itself was something to look into, it was weird that both the Sergeant and Lance Corporal were still unconscious. Although he did see that at one point the Sergeant was fading in and out of consciousness before succumbing back into unconsciousness.
Either way he had to find help, quick and if that not too far off smoke was any sign then help was right around the corner. He just needed a quick break and-
"Grrrrr….."
His blood froze as the ominous growl reached his ears. Turning around he found a wolf like creature with black fur and red eyes Staring right at him. With its razor sharp teeth bared it was clear the creature had anything but peaceful intentions.
Cursing inwardly he brought his rifle up and leveled the sights on the wolf's lookalikes head.
He swallowed some accumulated spit in nervousness and almost instantaneously his stress levels spiked once more.
Kill….
"Come on….come on….back off." He lowly whispered to himself, edging himself towards his injured comrades. And in doing so closing the distance between him and the beast.
Suddenly and without warning the wolf attacked, it's powerful legs propelling it forward.
Without thought he reacted and fired his rifle, a three round burst slamming into the beast and stopping it cold as it slid into the ground.
However before he could relax a chilling howl echoed throughout the forest.
"...Fuck my life." The grunt whined before moving to pick up the injured.
Grabbing the Sergeant in a similar manner he attempted to bring the injured Marine in a fireman's carry only for both of them to fall to the ground.
His legs had given out and it was only now did he realize that he had a hard time standing back up.
'No...no, no, no...come on legs. Fucking COME ON!' He cried internally in desperation.
They had to get out of here, as fast as possible but his legs simply refused to work. Long hours of marching on top of an hour of rough combat had worn down his already exhausted and battered body.
However….his gaze turned to the two Marines.
Run….
Leave them….
Dead weight….
….Live
His hands gripped his rifle hard, he couldn't run away, not now. Not when salvation seemed so close.
They wouldn't leave him behind if the situation had been reversed, they would rather stand tall and die protecting him.
And so would he.
Foolish….
Oh he knew it was foolish but despite what his mind said. Despite it being like the right thing to do, something made him stay. Something in his heart made him want to stay with his Marines….his brothers and protect them.
Gritting his teeth he grabbed the Sergeant and placed him near the center of the clearing. Quickly jogging over to the Lance Corporal he did the same. He put them side by side and grabbed a handful of magazines from their pouches and laid them on the ground near his feet.
And so he kneeled there in the open clearing, his comrades sleeping peacefully and him in front of them, waiting for the oncoming onslaught. And in the evening skies where the blue sky began to turn into a red hue PFC McAllster locked and loaded.
Prepared to give his life for the Marines behind him.
In the dead silence of the forest he could hear the thumping of his heart louder than anything else.
Louder than his rifle clicking into semi auto.
Louder than the wind that blew.
Louder than the steady flurry of footsteps that most certainly didn't belong to any human.
Suddenly and without warning a couple of the wolf like beasts bursted out of the treeline and made a beeline for the injured trio. Only to be halted by a flurry of 5.56 caliber rounds fired from the barrel of an M16.
Mentally he rejoiced a little at seeing the couple of wolves fall. Perhaps it was because of mental and physical exhaustion but it didn't matter to him. The creatures attacking him were very much alive in the sense that it could be killed.
It gave him some relief that he wasn't fighting some monstrosity.
However just because one or two were easy kills didn't mean a whole entire pack of the fuckers would be.
Almost immediately whatever sense of elation died as he saw the numerous glowing red eyes that peered into the clearing.
His teeth clenched….how many were out there?
'Come on you fuckers, have at it.' He mentally growled, leveling his sights on a pair of eyes and letting his service rifle rip into the attacking animals.
Out of his peripherals he could see that a large handful had flanked him, effectively surrounding him on nearly all sides. There was only one exit and that was directly behind him and that route would take him straight to the closest settlement where he saw the rising of smoke.
As much as it was an opening it was also a trap. The animals expected him to take the one route and then pounce on him from all sides while using the trees to get in close.
Clever, if he was honest.
However unbeknownst to the creatures, he was in this for the long haul.
Snapping his attention to the right he popped off a couple rounds in rapid succession killing one and forcing the rest to back off.
Taking no break he spun around a full 180, catching a handful crossing out the tree line and into the open.
From one target to another he quickly downed several but was unsuccessful at killing any of them. That was fine though, the downed wolves would be too wounded to press the attack anyway.
Snapping back to his front he found the wolves cautiously moving about. Their prey was a beginning to be a tough nut to crack.
Amidst the combat the young PFC noticed something of a fear in the wolves.
His rifle. Rather it was more accurate to say the sound his rifle made.
The creatures were unfamiliar of the sound of gunfire, it frightened them. Forced a sense of danger in their instincts.
It was a weakness he was going to exploit.
Uncaring of any collateral damage he may or may not cause he flicked his selector switch back into burst fire and emptied the rest of the magazine into the forest before reloading.
He could hear number of whimpers from the cover of the treeline, some of his rounds had struck true. The burst of fire had scared away the pack but sense of foreboding still lingered.
They were regrouping.
"It's like the furry shits are being controlled." He whispered to himself as he slowly inched towards his teammates.
After tense moments of stressful quiet the young Marine came to his decision.
They were getting out of here while they had some time.
Slinging his rifle across his chest he grabbed the magazines off the floor of the forest and shoved it on his body. From the cargo pockets to whatever space he had on his vest he crammed in the extra mags.
Reaching down he ignored any format of gentle treatment as he simply grabbed both Marines by the back of their kevlar vests and proceeded to drag both of them as he sprinted towards civilization.
His movements however was noticeably slower than before as he struggled to push through the exhaustion and thick vegetation.
Another chilling howl caused a shiver to run down his spine.
Faster…
He just had a little more to go.
….Faster
The sounds of his stomping feet gave way to the thumping of his heart and labored gulps of air.
FASTER MARINE!
He roared in defiance as his muscles burned from exertion, as his stomach wound leaked even more life precious fluids. As his grip on his comrades threatened to loosen.
Fight!
Dropping the injured Marines he turned around to find another pack closing in on him.
With tired arms he hefted his rifle up and began blazing away at the fast moving silhouettes that approached him. Letting his rifle sling over his chest again he grabbed a grenade from his vest and primed the explosive.
With a grunt he lobbed it in front of him, intent on using the explosion as cover to grab his buddies and retreat.
If anything it would buy him a few seconds.
Not bothering to see the results of the lone grenade he turned around, grabbed the injured and began moving away from the approaching pack.
He ignored the near deafening explosion and the resulting concussive force from that engulfed him as he ran with an almost single minded zeal.
Almost there….
He could see the forest beginning to open up.
At the same time he could practically feel the snapping jaws of those demonic looking wolves.
As much as he was getting closer to relative safety the damn persistent four legged bastards were closing in even faster. They smelled his blood, his weakness.
Every step seemed more impossible than those last. His wound hurt. His body hurt. Everything hurt. He wanted to stop moving, rest for a couple seconds but doing so would mean his death.
He had to keep moving, even if he had to sell a part of his soul to the devil with every step he had to keep moving.
Come closer…..
Something else reached his ears, voices. Of people.
Hope swelled in his chest.
I'll save you….
Yes! They could save him and his Marines!
I'll protect you…
That was fine! As long as he and his buddies received medical treatment.
…..You need me
He tripped, falling face first into the ground. Recovering as fast as he could he shot up with his rifle raised and looked around. "Who the fuck…"
"Grrrr…"
Hearing the growls he snapped out his trance and stumbled to his feet. He slogged his battered body towards salvation and with his comrades in tow he pushed for the final stretch, uncaring for the deep gasps of air as he desperately tried to inhale as much oxygen as he could.
After what felt like an eternity the trio of Marines practically exploded out of the dense woods.
The first thing that PFC Allster saw were bunch of small stone and wooden buildings.
Finally!
Finally he had found civilization which meant they could help him. It also meant that the wolves would be less likely to attack. Hopefully.
Still though he had to cross an open field to reach the outskirts of the village and the best part was that he could see a gathering of villagers starting to form.
The distance from the treeline and the edges of the villages couldn't have been more than 200 yards. Normally running such a short distance was child's play for the Marine but in this case, lugging his 5 foot 9 frame burdened by two Marines along with their full gear, it proved to be the longest 200 yards of his life.
With an agonizing last couple of steps the young Marine finally allowed himself to collapse in front of the villagers. He didn't mind the stares he got nor could he blame them for staring so intently.
After taking taking a moment to catch his breath and very briefly rest his legs he stood back up, albeit with some difficulty.
He looked around trying to find someone in some sort of leadership position whoever they may be.
"Hey-" Before he could continue he was cut off by cacophony of barking. Snapping his head back to the woods he found his pursuers had caught up and showed no signs of stopping like he had hoped for.
"Fuck!" He cursed out loud before grabbing one of the villagers, a male to be precise. He pointed at the injured Marines.
"Take them to safety!" He roared at the man, his nonexistent patience showing. To his surprise and horror however the man didn't understand him, merely standing there with a panicked and confused expression.
Cursing in frustration he pointed at the two Marines. "Them!" Then at the houses. "Safe!"
It was only after an old man taking initiative did the man follow. Seemed like the grandpa pieced things together. Thank god for old people.
By now the majority of the villagers had already began retreating back into their homes, leaving a small detail to take care of the injured duo.
Turning around to face the rapidly approaching pack of wolves he spared a hesitant glance at the Sergeant and Lance Corporal. He was taking a risk leaving them to the villagers but he didn't much of a choice. It was either leave them in the hands of the unknown people or protect them while he fought off the wolves. A hard prospect if the numbers of the damned creatures meant anything.
As he took a knee and aimed down his sights once more he made made a mental note of the fact that the demonic wolves were already within at least 100 yards.
Gritting his teeth at the prospect of the upcoming fight he let his rifle loose with authority, making sure to make every single shot count.
As he let loose upon the approaching pack he heard the civilians scream as the heard the loud bark of his service rifle. It only proved to annoy him further. As if a language barrier wasn't bad enough.
Shoving the errant thought to the back of his mind he focused on lining up his shots in an accurate and efficient manner. He had to whittle down their numbers a much as he could before the got into close quarters.
Switching from one target to another he found himself getting into a grove, a rhythm almost. Even so however he quickly found it harder with every passing second to ignore the burning sensation in his arms.
With an ominous click his rifle refused to fire. Cursing he ejected the empty magazine before putting in a new one but before he could send the bolt home he found that the wolves had closed the distance.
With a loud thud he was sent tumbling to the ground. For a moment he laid there breathless before his brain drove into overdrive. One of the beasts was on top of him, the vicious looking teeth only held back by his rifle that was wedged in its jaw. It was the only thing holding the beast back and even that wouldn't be enough with the others closing in fast.
With a roar of defiance he rolled over, pinning the demonic looking wolf under him. Yanking his rifle from the jaws of the beast he smashed the buttstock into the side of its head. A textbook strike, killing it instantly.
Grunting he quickly got off the dead beast, slammed the bolt home and began backpedaling while desperately trying to hold back the tide of the animals. He wouldn't be able to kill all of the fuckers, at least not without some help or a genius plan. Neither of which seemed abundant in this case.
All he could do was to fight a retreating battle, making sure the damned villagers got the injured injured to safety. After that….well he didn't think that far ahead.
Right now all he could think about was ending the fuckers trying to having an even munch.
He growled as his rifle clicked empty once more. Unable to change magazines he slung his rifle and switched to his sidearm.
Pulling out his M45 standard issue pistol he reengaged the enemy however despite his efforts a couple managed to get close the distance. The sheer numbers of the wolves were beginning to overwhelm him.
Grunting from exertion he kicked one back before putting a round into its head, spraying brain matter into the ground that was steadily getting doused in blood and gore.
Suddenly he was blindsided by a stray that had escaped his attention. Yelping in surprise and pain the young fell onto his back once more as one of the charcoal beasts latched onto his left arm.
Blood began pouring out of the fresh wound, dripping on his face almost mocking him of his injury. With his left arm holding back the wolf he placed the muzzle of his pistol underneath its chin and fired the last round of the magazine. The slide going back showing the empty chamber of his pistol.
Pushing the weight of the wolf off of him he look up to find more screaming. To his further surprise and horror the detail in charge of the injured Marines had dropped the duo and proceeded to run away.
What made matters worse was the group of wolves approaching the downed men. What pissed him off even more was the fact that the old man was the only one who had stayed, his thin and frail frame still trying to pull the two Marines despite the danger he was in.
Raw anger fueled his exhausted and battered body. It being the driving force that enabled him to ignore the searing pain in his left arm and abdomen.
With a terrifying roar he brandished his Ka-Bar and charged headlong into the small pack.
His first victim was the "leader" of the pack. Forgoing tactics he lowered his shoulder and bulldozed straight into the side of the beast, slamming it into the stone ground. With a vicious stomp to the neck he ended its life before changing targets and slashing at the black figure of a wolf lunging at him.
Ignoring the whimper of the grievously injured wolf he tackled another four legged figure. Raising his bloody knife up he quickly and viciously stabbed the victim underneath him repeatedly, turning the neck area of the beast into gory mush.
A loud bark got his attention, forcing him to turn and see a wolf already about to sink his teeth into his body. Without care he turned to face the beast, prepared to give up another part of him to kill the damned creatures. However before any contact could be made a sharp shard of ice speared its way into the body of the wolf.
He turned to find an odd sight. A girl with silver hair and two practically identical maids with red and blue hair. Best part was the floating shard of ice around them and the metal spiked ball of death welded by the blue haired one. Also...
'Since when did cats fucking float?' He thought to himself seeing the floating feline next to the silver haired girl.
He was snapped out his trance however when he saw a black blur out of his peripherals, one that was going towards the old man and the injured Marines.
With his rifle and pistol empty he reacted in an almost frantic manner as he ripped off his helmet and threw it at the wolf. As the helmet struck the black beast, it turned to face the being responsible only find said being bearing down on it with a vengeful expression.
Half crawling and half leaping he chased down the threat and threw his body into the creature. With a satisfying thud the beast was sent flying into a wall. Without pause and grunting in exertion he crawled on top of said beast only to find a single red eye glaring up at him. Grabbing its neck in a death grip he mercilessly drove the sharp and bloody knife into its eye, making sure to twist it up and through the brain and skull.
Getting off the dead creature he stumbled towards the old man who was looking at him in horror. For what he didn't particularly care.
As he stumbled forward he reloaded his pistol and in his peripherals he saw something in the distance, simply watching him.
It was a small black puppy but something seemed wrong about the damn thing and in the haze of battle he aimed at the little thing and fired. Off in the distance he saw a small explosion of blood but to his surprise the little puppy began scampering away, blood pouring out of its head.
The .45 had only grazed the damn thing, forcing it to flee. As soon as it did however the black demonic looking wolves began to beat a hasty retreat. It didn't help that the trio of women joined in on the fray chasing the things away into the woods.
Panting from exertion he found himself collapsing onto his knees. Turning to look at the duo of injured Marines he found it surprising to find both of them completely still, the rising and falling of their chests absent.
Panic gripped his heart as he crawled towards them, unknowing of the trail of blood he was leaving.
'No...no, no. Come on you fuckers, you guys can't be dead!' He thought to himself in despair.
Whatever hope he had was destroyed when he reached the duo and found them completely still, unmoving to the world around them. It was as if they were merely taking a nap with their peaceful expressions.
Perhaps it was because of exhaustion or perhaps he simply had enough of holding everything back but he couldn't help the tears that began falling down his face.
What had all this been for? His Marines were dead and he himself was half dead too and the result of the torment he went through in the past several hours were for nothing.
He pushed himself physically to get them out of danger. And they died.
He swallowed his sinful temptations and refused to leave them behind. And they died.
He bled for them. And they died.
"What the fuck…." He sobbed out as he gripped the Sergeants kevlar vest in a white knuckle grip.
Unable to hold back his tears the young Marine completely broke down. His forehead rested on the Sergeants kevlar as his tears intermingled with the dried spotches chest of blood, dying it in a reddish color.
As the seconds passed by he became more aware of the dizziness that had taken over his consciousness. Nausea filled his body.
Unable to hold himself back he leaned away from the Sergeants body and vomited up his stomach contents onto the ground. After what seemed like an eternity his strength left him completely as his face dropped on to the puddle of his own vomit.
He felt so tired.
'Maybe….maybe I should just go to sleep.' PFC Allster thought to himself, his eyes fluttering closed. Vaguely he was aware of the concerned looking face of the silver haired female looming over him as he passed out.
Honestly Emilia didn't know what to think about the chaos around her.
She had expected the worst when Ram had reported that barrier holding back the Mabeasts had been broken. It was only after did she and the twin maids rush down to the village.
They had expected many things, which was either they got lucky and fixed the issue before the Mabeasts could attack or the worse case scenario where the village was overrun by said beasts. Which in that case they would have had to push back the Mabeasts before fixing the barrier.
It also didn't help that the fourth candidate had just been picked several days prior, leaving just one more candidate before the "competition" could begin. And due to it, she had been overwhelmed with various paperwork varying from simple letters to straight marriage proposals.
Roswaal had also just left for the capital just the other day too, leaving her and the maid twins in charge of the mansion and the surrounding area.
All in all this came at the worst of times but she couldn't simply abandon the villagers to their fate.
She had called Puck out in advance ready to defend anyone in case the situation rose.
As they had approached the village they heard the loud booms in the air, rather it was more accurate to say it sounded more like a sharp crack than anything else.
The foreign sounds scared her, she had never heard anything like it and as they approached the village, the sounds of cracks grew into roaring thunder.
However suddenly the thunders grew quiet and she began fearing for the worst.
What she actually found couldn't be farther from what she had imagined. The village was intact with most of the inhabitants being in the relative safety of their homes. Only a small handful were still out, they had been carrying two bloodied individuals before they turned tail and ran away. Which left a lone elderly man still trying to drag the injured away.
Everything had happened so suddenly.
She heard a terrifying roar. One that genuinely startled her. It scared her to think what kind of man could make such a sound.
A man garbed in tan clothing, practically covered in blood and a chunk of his left arm bitten off, tore into the pack that was rushing for the trio of vulnerable men.
She along with the maids saw in horror and awe as they witnessed a form of savagery unknown to them before then.
He used everything he had, his body, his knife even his helmet of all things to protect the two injured that were clothed similarly to him.
She could see his pain, agony and exhaustion but he kept going. Determined to protect and kill whatever threat he saw.
They were shocked out of their trance when the thunder roared once more.
The small black thing in his hand had been responsible and it had them flinching and covering their ears. Despite it she could see the Mabeasts starting to retreat and taking the advantage she had told Ram and Rem to take care of the rest while she took care of the injured.
She ran towards the group of men, the only one not bloody being the old man. Getting closer to them she could see that the previously enraged man had hunched over one of the downed men. She saw the white knuckle grip and the shaking of his shoulders as he held onto the deceased.
Both men laying on the ground had passed away, most likely from the injuries that littered their bodies. From the uniformity of the three, it was safe to assume they were part of some group or faction. Perhaps militant in nature but that didn't matter much for the half elf.
Seeing the almost demonic man in such sorrow was painful. They must have had a close relationship, one of kinship and brotherhood. Something she had only read in novels, never experienced in her life.
She scrambled to him when he vomited and began losing consciousness while laying there fade first in his own vomit.
Applying whatever aid she could administer, she had to internally wince at the low ringing in her ears. Her eyes trailed down to the black contraption he had put on his body. It was a small thing not much bigger than her hands yet something so small created such a thunderous sound.
Yet another thing about this man that frightened her but nonetheless she continued her healing of said mystery man.
Minutes passed, how long precisely she didn't know but it was long enough for Ram and Rem to drive off the Mabeasts and repair the barrier. Looking around she could see that slowly the villagers were starting to come out of their homes.
She smiled at the relieved expressions on their faces. Even though they would still keep her at arms length due to her half elf heritage and silver hair, it didn't particularly matter to her. She was just happy to have helped prevent what could have been a disaster.
Although if anything she had to be thanking the mystery man currently laying on the ground. He was the one who had done most of the work, whether he meant to or was simply a byproduct of him trying to protect his comrades she didn't know but was nonetheless grateful.
"I wonder where he's from?" Puck mumbled to himself, getting Emilia's attention.
Emilia frowned at the question. "I don't know but we can ask him once he's awake."
'These are some pretty awful injuries he has though.' She thought to herself. 'His ankles are swollen, he has a bunch of small cuts all over him. The worse injury is the hole on his abdomen, he managed to stem the bleeding but internally the area around the wound is completely destroyed. That's not counting the chunk of flesh that was bitten off by one of the Mabeasts.'
All in all things looked grim for the man even with her healing. He had lost a lot of blood after all.
'How he managed to keep fighting despite his injuries is amazing.' She glanced over at the two deceased bodies. 'Probably because he was fighting to protect his friends….I'm willing to bet they had a close relationship.' She thought with a small amount of envy.
'I always wanted someone like that. Someone that I know would be at my side no matter what.' Her solemn thoughts seemed to reach Puck, who simply rested on her shoulder.
Shaking the thoughts away she sighed as she finished the process of healing. She would have to continue to patch up any remnants of internal damage but for now her patient was out of immediate danger. Now the only problem was to fix the curse that was no doubt placed on him when he was bitten.
Beatrice would hopefully take care of that. Hopefully. She was positive if she were the one to ask then there wouldn't be too much of an issue. Although you really didn't know what the child-like being was thinking.
She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard yelling in the background.
"How could you leave those men behind like that?! Even the old gramps didn't just run away like that!" Emilia turned to face a growing crowd surrounding a middle aged woman holding her child.
The woman looked furious, causing some of the men she was yelling at to flinch.
One of the taller men, took offense to that however. "The two guys were dead anyways! Why should we risk our lives for some strangers?! For all we know they may have been the cause to all this! Unless...it's that witches doing then I honestly wouldn't be surprised."
Still the woman didn't back down. "Even so look at that man!" She pointed at Emilia or more accurately the unconscious man. "He was covered in blood carrying those two all by himself! He looked exhausted, probably was from running away from the Mabeasts. Whether he was responsible or not doesn't matter, he trusted you and your little entourage to get these two men to safety!"
Before things could escalate Emilia broke the stalemate.
"U-umm sorry to interrupt but could someone help me carry the three men over here onto a cart? I'd like to give the deceased a proper burial and continue treating the injured back at the mansion…" She internally winced as her voice came out more hesitant and meek than she had hoped for.
Several moments passed and her expression started to fall. It didn't surprise her that none of them would help.
"I'll help." To her surprise the same women that had been scolding the men stepped forward. "Come on, go back to daddy. I have to help the lady over there." She gently prodded her child away.
To Emilia's further surprise a few more stepped out, one of which was the same old man from before.
"I….um...thank you." She mumbled out, taken aback. She hadn't expected the kind of response she had gotten though it was probably only because of the unconscious man at her feet.
Everything else passed by in a relative blur. They had loaded the three men onto a wagon with no particular issues and afterwards, she along with Ram and Rem made their way back to the mansion.
The ride was made in silence, each keeping their thoughts to themselves. In one shape or another their thoughts converged on the three mysterious men.
Their uniforms were unfamiliar to them, meaning the trio was most likely from another country. Either that or were a small group within Lugnica.
Their weapons were strange too, most likely some sort of magical weapon. It would explain the ear splitting noises they made. The only relative familiarity were their knives, the only weapon they could identify properly.
Within her spot beside the unconscious man, Ram took the chance of peace to scrutinize the black weapon. Gingerly she traced a finger along it's charcoal length, taking note of the small amount of heat she could feel.
'Perhaps a fire based weapon.' She silently mused to herself. It would explain the heat emanating from the weapon.
However there was a small issue with it being a fire based weapon. There was no signs of fire being used. If anything the corpses of the Mabeasts were severely mangled rather than showing signs of being set on fire.
'No, it might be better to say it's a projectile weapon instead. If it used a form of combustion to propel a projectile then it would explain the heat.' Whether it was a conventional weapon or a magically enhanced however one remained to be seen.
When he woke up, there were many things he was expecting. Feeling the soft cushions of a very comfortable bed however was not one of them, though it was a luxury he was willing to exploit.
For a while he merely stared up at the foreign ceiling, thinking about the previous events that had led up to this point.
He was in a firefight in Fallujah, Iraq before coming to this place...wherever this place was. The strangest thing though was he didn't know how he got here, one minute he was in Iraq and one blinding moment later he was here. Yet in and another land where people didn't speak English and this time he didn't have some half breed translator with him.
His next thoughts trailed off into the demonic looking wolves he had fought in the woods. In his entire life he had never seen something quite like that. He was aware of the various myths that floated around the Internet but up until this point that was just that, a myth.
Then there were the fuckers who had abandoned the wounded.
Briefly his anger flared before a solemn thought crossed his mind. 'They're dead...'
That's right, somewhere along the fighting and dragging their bodies through the woods, the two men had died after succumbing to their wounds. In a sense it was a miracle that he himself was alive at all considering his stomach was pretty much destroyed by the bullet that passed through him along with the chunk that was bitten off of his left arm.
If memory served him correctly then he had passed out in a pool of his own vomit. That must have been fun to clean up for whatever poor soul was picked to do so.
Idly he wondered who had taken him in. 'Probably that silver haired girl' He took an appreciative look around his room. It looked like something rich people lived in. 'Ayyy did I get picked up by some rich girl or something? This shits legit.'
He was taken out of his thoughts by the door opening. Snapping his eyes to the entrance he found the two girls in maid outfits that looked practically identical, with the exception of their vibrant hair colors.
'Wonder how they made the pink and blue hair work? Most of those weeaboo fucks look like garbage in their little outfits.' He thought to himself as took a glance at the maids.
The pink one simply bowed in his presence. "It seems like our guest has awoken. My name is Ram and this is Rem, we are the maids of this mansion. How are you feeling sir?"
'Ah fuck me, here we go again.' He thought to himself. 'Oh well, fuck you whatever divine fucker is looking at me, I got real good at playing charades.'
"Yeah so, listen babe I can't understand the hell you're saying and neither can you understand me so how bout you strip and hop on?" Normally he wouldn't say something so crass but they didn't know what he was saying. At least he hoped so.
Their titling of their heads in confusion solidified his suspicions. He did however let his moment of immaturity pass, getting into a more serious demeanor.
Sighing he got out of the covers and stood up, taking notice of his clean desert utilities and his dog tags. He picked his deserts up he and pulled up it against his body.
"Can I see the guys that had this on? You know they're…" He paused in hesitation before making a slitting motion with his finger across his neck.
For a moment the girls looked at him with a confused expression before the blue haired one whispered something into the pink haired one. Something seemed to click with them afterwards as they both nodded and ushered him to follow them.
Making sure to quickly change back into his deserts he noticed that even his boots and socks had been cleaned, although the wear and tear of a Marine stomping around in them was still present. Sighing he put his dog tags underneath his deserts and made his way out of his room.
Stepping outside of his room he had to hold in an urge to whistle as he took a glance at the interior. He was definitely in rich people neighborhood. Which was great or complete shit, depending on how things went.
He turned his attention to the blue hair maid in front of him, noticing the red haired one was gone.
"Please follow me sir." With that she began walking at a sedate pace.
Falling in behind her Allster absently remembered not seeing his gear or weapons inside his room. Mentally slapping himself in the head for the amateur mistake he let out a sigh.
Wherever he was, he was all by himself. No one to rely on to watch his back. Personally he didn't even know what to do with the bodies of the dead Marines. Giving them a proper burial came to mind, they deserved that much at the very least.
'It's funny how that comes from the guy who couldn't even save them.' He thought in bitterness. He wasn't too hurt by their deaths, he barely knew them. Only by rank and name did he recognize those two. Even so they were Marines, he trusted them to watch his back and they trusted him to do the same. Such was the strength of camaraderie between Marines, it didn't matter if you were from the West Coast or East Coast, a Marine was a Marine.
Yet he had failed when it mattered most.
'If I hadn't stopped for fucking breaks then they would've made it….' He should've kept going, if he did then maybe those wolves wouldn't have attacked. He was probably within their territory, making them more aggressive.
He bit the inside of his cheeks as frustration mounted. 'Some fuckin Marine I am. Can't do a damn thing right you fuckin boot.'
Hell with his performance even POGs would laugh at his pathetic ass.
"Sir? We've arrived. Your...friends are through his door." He was snapped out his thoughts by the foreign voice of the small blue haired girl.
He pointed at the door. "Through here?" Receiving a nod he placed his hand on the doorknob but for some reason his hand failed to open the door.
He closed his eyes and turned his head away from the door. "...Fuck." He whispered. His grip tightened on the know and with a steadying breath opened the door.
When the door opened he was treated to a peaceful sight. One that made holding himself back all the more difficult.
The two Marines were placed beside each other on a large bed on top of the covers. Instead of their desert utilities they had the sleeping garbes that the maids had no doubt put on. Their uniforms placed neatly on a stand beside the bed.
Their gear and weapons, including his were placed on a corner of the room, almost out of sight. Their covers and kevlar helmets were neatly placed on the ground in front of the gear. All in all it was a serene sight, almost as if the Marines were merely sleeping,
Slowly walking his way to the bed, he took notice of the dog tags that were placed on top of the folded utilities. With a hesitant hand he reached over and grasped both dog tags with his right hand. The dog tags were cool to the touch and practically weighed nothing yet holding another Marine's dog tags in his hands felt so wrong.
He couldn't help a bitter chuckle. "So this is what holding another Marines dog tags feels like." Clenching the metal dog tags tightly he rolled them up and put them in his pockets.
Looking on at the Marines he noticed something amiss however. Their injuries were gone, as if they never happened. Especially Sergeant Howard whose leg was hanging on by a thread. That very same leg was….normal. Like a bullet hadn't even touched it.
His widened as he held his belly. "What hell, where are my wounds?" He whispered out, seeing his left arm was also completely fine.
There was no way he healed over night and the chances of him being unconscious for such a length that his wounds healed without even a scar was damn near impossible.
He snapped his attention to the single maid who was in the same room with him. Her expression was hard to read, though he could see a feel a small amount of empathy emanating from her.
His body tensed up. The mysterious way he arrived here, the demonic wolves, foreign people and wounds healing without even a scar. Nothing added up.
He found himself forgetting his dead comrades for glaring at the small maid. "Hey girl….the fuck am I doing here?" He growled out, noticing her tensing up not in fright but in anticipation.
'That's right this blue bitch was throwing around a spiked metal ball. She's a combative? Or is she friendly?' He thought while slowly edging towards his weapon.
He didn't see an outline of any weapon on her nor did he see one on her person. When he got within a couple feet from his weapon he suddenly found himself staring at an armed individual. The very same spiked death ball he saw earlier. One that quite literally appeared out of thin air with a rattle of metal.
Her entire demeanor changed too, gone was the expressionless look. What replaced was a glare that dared him to do anything she deemed a hostile action.
"Bitch." He simply mumbled, backing off. Turning around he made his way around the bed when he gave her the middle finger. In hindsight it was probably a bad idea but at the time it was funny to see the surprised and even offended expression on the small girl.
'I guess the fuck you finger is the same no matter where you are.' He thought with no small amount of amusement.
His moment of fun however was ruined he saw the peaceful expression of the Sergeant. "Damn it, Sergeant why couldn't you be a badass and live through that shit like a motherfucker? Leaving a brother out dry like this, fuck you man. Fuck you man...I ain't a boot anymore you know? I was gonna rub that in front of everyone's face."
He let out a defeated sigh. "...But fuck me right."
Most would think that was a question but a Marine knew otherwise. For a Marine most likely heard his Drill Instructor say something similar when their platoon screwed up during recruit training. Which was a lot.
"So...3080. Fuck me right."
"No, sir!"
"No, no, no 3080, that isn't a fucking question. Fuck me right."
"...Aye Sir!"
"Good shit, now I'm gonna pop your little hearts. Climb 'til you die fuckers."
"Aye Sir!"
The memory of his training platoon popped into mind for some reason. Those were simpler times, where becoming a Marine seemed like the only thing mattered. What came after didn't register for most them, including him. It was only during SOI did he realize he was going off to fight in the Middle East.
He was taken out of his thoughts when the door opened. Looking up he found the same blue haired maid holding the door open for him, silently ushering him to get out.
Clicking his tongue in annoyance he ambled over to the girl without a verbal response.
Without a word the maid closed the door behind him and began walking down the hallway.
"What the fuck you want from me?" He growled out. The maid didn't even give him a response, only continuing to walk to wherever she was taking him.
After a couple twists and turns she stopped at a door. Opening it for him she bowed slightly. "Emilia-sama is waiting for you, please go inside."
Now he didn't know much Japanese but he recognized the suffixes to a decent extent. "Bitch did you just say-"
"Please go inside sir."
Opening his mouth he stared at the girl before making his way inside.
The first thing he saw was a recognizable face, the silver haired girl standing in front of a desk. Which had paperwork strewn about on top of it.
'Ah shit, is this girl the top dog around here?' He thought to himself in surprise and dread for the upcoming talks. Well attempt at talks at least. Talking was hard when no one could communicate properly.
"God this just gets better and better." He groaned out.
