Here's chapter five. *wipes brow* You cannot believe how hard that was. I nearly cramped my fingers typing it. But that's done, and I'm ready to show you the next chapter.
I managed to make this longer than usual. It took me the whole day to finish it. I hope you guys are ready for chapter six. ^_^ You won't be disappointed.
The clouds rolled by, letting the sun shine gloriously, the sky was painted its natural blue. The Emptiness was a neverending labyrinth equipped with many hiding places, providing a plethora of wonders to find. Its decaying buildings stood empty, ragged, resembling jagged teeth; sad but picturesque. Desolate. Oftentimes you became the unsuspecting prey to a lurking beast, and it was something that was impossible to avoid despite how hard you try. No matter what anyone thought, they were always caught in the perpetual game of life and death.
8 sat on a faded red brick, sharpening his butcher knife with a whetstone he was given by 5. He found it on a scouting trip, inside the remains of a shop. He thought it could come into good use, and 8's been using it ever since. He also allowed 7 to use it for her spear; her weapons weren't going to sharpen themselves.
The sound of footsteps echoed from behind, grabbing his attention. 8 looked over his shoulder, planting the knife's point on the ground. 7 strode up to him, a smile on her face, her spear in hand.
"Hey," she uttered.
"Hey, 7," he retorted, smiling himself.
7 paced around his spot, teetering between sitting and standing. She merely kept her gaze on him.
"How's that whetstone working for you?," she asked.
"Great," said 8, tapping his fingers on the grit side. The whetstone was as big as him; his head just stood a smidgen taller than the stone.
7 sat beside him, putting her spear down on the brick. She clasped her hands to his strong arm.
"Let's say you and me head out tonight," said 7, "after the twins have been put to bed. How does that sound?"
"Oh, well," he replied, chuckling, running a hand down the back of his head. "I, uh..."
"Oh, come on," said 7, "please?"
"I," rumbled 8, optics darting upward to the sky, "I guess that would be nice."
"You know it is," said 7, pecking his cheek.
8 turned his head, catching 7's lips in his own, flinging his free arm around her.
A set of footfalls resonated, prompting the two to look over and see 5 scurrying towards them. He had his quiver packed.
"What's going on?," asked 7.
"I saw a beast through through my telescope,"explained 5, "he's not too far from here."
"Well, let's get going," said 8, standing up. He placed his knife onto his magnet he carried on his back.
"Right," said 7, rising to her feet. She lowered her bird skull.
5 followed her and 8 down the courtyard.
"I just hope it doesn't try to escape," muttered 5.
"Ah, don't worry," proclaimed 8, "that beast won't see us coming."
"Yeah!," hooted 7.
The three rushed out the gates, delving into the dilapidated city of rust and metal.
"Where did you see that beast?," asked 7.
"I saw him in that direction," retorted 5, pointing forward to their left.
"So let's go before it runs," muttered 8, "I don't wanna waste my time doin' nothin'."
The trio went into the direction that 5 pointed, the fear and excitement riling them up. Their trail was barred by many human junk long forgotten and covered in dust. The sun shone off most car surfaces. The ground was soggy from yesterday's rain and the grass blades seemed to be getting bigger. Soon there'd be trees covered in green leaves.
7 climbed up to a mountain of rubble, jumping onto a wooden plank. She craned her neck, trying to catch sight of this beast. The suspicion was getting to her it was bound to eat her alive.
"Hey 5," she called, "what did this beast look like?"
"I didn't get a good look at it," remarked 5, "all I could see was its head. Looked like a dog, or something."
"Huh," said 8, pulling out his knife, "then it won't be easy to miss. I could use a workout."
A noise resonated in the air. It sounded like a pair of claws scratching through metal. The three stitchpunks stood, weapons held, ready to hear the sound again.
"Where did it come from?," asked 7, looking from one direction to the other.
"I dunno," replied 8. He lowered his salt shaker cap.
5 crouched down, removing his quiver from his back. He rummaged through it, looking through his collection of weapons, deciding which one was best. He finally decided on the fishing hook tied to a pole. He put his quiver back on, standing up. He joined 7 and 8, looking as alert as them.
A roar cut through the Emptiness.
"That must be the beast," muttered 7.
"Let's get 'em," said 8, taking off in a sprint.
5 and 7 followed after him, keen on catching the beast. The three ran past three buildings before they came to stop after hearing another roar fill the air. They looked to their left, peeing through the spacious road. They saw a figure hunched over, back to the ground, digging in the dirt.
"What kinda beast do ya suppose is that?," queried 8, lifting his knife.
"No idea," said 7.
5 narrowed his one optic. The beast had a long tail that was a television antenna. It had cylindrical pelvis and metal legs ending with sickle claws. It had metal plates on its back and a ribcage exposing wires and a battery in its core. The beast's head shot up, looking to its left, then to its right. Its red glowing mechanical eyes glared deep into the stitchpunks' small optics. The beast's head was indeed doglike, but the head was too flat and too elongated to be a dog's. The skull was bigger than a fox's but it had the same dental formula. That he could remember from the books he's read in the library and what the twins showed him. The top of the skull formed an even context curve from the rear to the middle of the nasal bones.
"I'll call it a Coyote," said 5.
"Well," uttered 8, "whatever it's called, he's not getting away." He took off charging at the beast.
"8!," called 7. She scurried after him, spear pointed at the ready. 5 was the last to go after them.
The Coyote roared, ending with a garbled bark. He scampered toward the three stitchpunks, rearing up when he was in close range. He let out a yelp.
8 lodge his knife into the Coyote's right hind leg, getting the claw. The beast cried out, kicking its leg, sending 8 flying off. 7 looked over her shoulder, watching him land on his back, knife dropping from his hand. She wanted to help him, but she had to stop the Coyote first. She snapped her head to the beast, glaring at him with icy fury. She looked at the beast's tail swishing back and forth. Remembering what she did with the Ravager, she trotted over to it, arms spread out. She turned her head, following each move the tail made. In an instant, she grabbed the thin tail, and held on.
The Coyote felt the stitchpunk grab his tail and he kicked his hind legs in an effort to get her off. 7 held on, while keeping a strong hold on her spear. She did what she did with the Ravager and climbed up, spear held close her body. With the Coyote running and making 5 chase it while he tried to take aim, 7 reached the beast's pelvis and kept her grip as she crawled down his spine. The Coyote screeched, it sounded staticky. She ventured 5 must've wounded; he thrashed his head, rearing, claws swatting at the air. She continued crawling, keeping her spear close to her. The beast got back on all fours, howling. 7 saw 5 rummaging through his quiver.
7 stopped when she reached the metal plates on the Coyote's back. She hesitated, then leaped for the beast's neck area. She grabbed on, her spear's blade pointed at the neck. She pierced her blade deep, bluish electricity crackling. The Coyote cried, his head thrashing. He took off in a run, hearing 5 calling to her. She looked over her shoulder, seeing him follow with his crossbow pointed it at the beast. Catching the hint, she jiggled her spear, feeling it loosen. She pulled it out, and held on, calculating the distance between her and the ground. 7 looked in the beast's direction and saw that it was about to crash into lamppost. Without thinking, she leaped, curling into a ball, somersaulting. She came to a stand and ran towards an overturned car. She stopped when she saw the broken glass and spun around, optics as wide as the moon.
The Coyote's head smashed into the lamppost, scampering in a dizzying state. His glowing red optics stared randomly at anything. He spotted 5 with a blade he must've picked up off the ground. He ran with the blade pointed. The way he held it, it was like he was going to throw a javelin, which was precisely what he was going to do. 5 threw the blade, stopping, standing hunched over. He watched the blade land into the Coyote's eye, piercing the glass. The beast whined, head thrashing. He ducked to the ground, forelegs grabbing at his muzzle.
7, seeing her opportunity, sprinted toward the Coyote. She leaped onto a broken lantern, pointing her spear's blade at the neck. She sliced his head clean off, and she landed with precision. The Coyote's head hit the ground, mouth agape. His headless carcass fell to the ground...dead.
5 walked up to her, standing beside her. He observed the Coyote's lifeless body. The skull stared vacantly into space, the jaw open like a cavern.
Another set of footsteps approached them. 5 looked up, seeing 8 trudging up to him and 7.
"What did I miss?," he asked, looking from 5 to 7.
"Oh," quipped 7, lifting her bird skull, "just the fun part." She sent him a smirk.
8 glanced over at the Coyote's skull, then at the beheaded body.
"Hey," she said, sidling up to him, "don't feel bad. You'll get the next beast." She playfully patted his arm.
The tall stitchpunk smiled. He slid his butcher knife on the magnet he carried on his back. He picked 7 up in his strong arms, and sat her on his left shoulder. He kept a hand locked onto her legs to keep her falling.
"8!," chirped 7, laughing. She clapped a hand over her mouth. She kept a tight grip on her spear, the blade pointing up.
"You two lovebirds," said 5, shaking his head.
"Hey, she's my girl," said 8, "I've gotta protect her."
"Oh, c'mon," teased 7, patting his head, "I'm not completely helpless."
"Yeah." 8 smirked.
5 grinned, head shaking.
7 and 8 waited for 5 to retrieve his quiver, which took seconds. The one-eyed stitchpunk placed his quiver on his back, scurrying toward the two.
"Okay," quoth 5, "I'm ready."
"Alright," uttered 8, shrugging.
The trio strode down the road. The wind blew, watching dingy scraps of paper flying by them.
"The day is young," lilted 7, tapping her fingers on 8's head, "I wish we didn't have to head home."
"Yeah," replied 8.
"If you want," offered 5, "you two can sneak off, I'll tell 1 you two went scout."
"Nah," said 7, "8 and I already have plans to sneak out tonight." She let out a giggle.
5 grinned savvily.
The three stitchpunks walked past a few buildings, feeling nothing but an overall contentment. A pair of red eyes glowed from one of the upper-story windows of the last building they passed. Although they didn't feel these eyes stare them down, its owner watched them, hating them. The three did not know nor would they guess they'd run into another predator.
9 opened his optics, taking in his surroundings. The light flooded in through the numerous windows, bathing the library with a white light, casting shadows against the stone cold floor. The room he was in was not his own, but 1's. The leader insisted on letting him take a nap despite his protests. A week had passed since the two realized their feelings for each other, and they had been closer ever since. Just two days ago 1 let 9 share his bed, seeing how they were so deeply in love. And this way, he could console 9 when he had his nightmares, no matter how hard the nights were.
He heard footsteps outside the room, 9 glanced at the dark yellow curtain. The curtain was parted and 1 took a peek inside.
"How was your nap?," he asked, strolling toward him.
"Fine," replied 9, changing position, so he was laying on his back.
"The headache's gone?" 1 stood over him, a worried look on his face.
"I can still feel it a tiny bit," said 9, rubbing the left side of his head.
1 sat on the bed, he caressed the zippered stitchpunk's cheek in an affectionate way. 9 smiled lightly. His optics gazed over at the room's decor. The bed he was lying in had soft satiny sheets the color of deep garnet with red and gold pillows supported by a bolster. The bed itself had what looked like a canopy cobbled out of a gold brocade curtain. Over to his left, his lightstaff was leaned against a bookcase with his penknife next to it. A large candle stood on its silver candlestick, next to it was a box of matches. 9 looked over to his right, marveling at the the jewelry box that was a smidgen taller than him with three drawers. 9 focused on the top drawer. That was where he stored the talisman. He turned his head, staring up at the ceiling. Sighing, he rested a hand against his forehead.
"Are you alright?," asked 1.
"Yes, " said 9.
"If you're still tired, you should rest as much as you need."
"No, no." 9 sat upright, scratching the back of his head. "The last thing I need is more rest. I just need to get out."
Just as he was about to get out of bed, the curtain was drawn, at the doorway the twins stood, flickering curiously.
'9?,' greeted 4.
'How are you?,' queried 3. 'We came to check on you.'
"I'm fine," said 9, smiling. He looked over at 4. He noticed the way she had her hands behind her back. It was like she was holding something. "Whatcha got there?"
'We came to give you this,' she responded through flickers. She and 3 strode up to him, standing next to his bed to his left. 4 showed him what she was hiding.
It was a small glass bottle topped with a cork that surprisingly fit into her hands. What the bottle had inside was what gartered 9's attention. Inside the bottle was a collection of miniature seashells along with sand. It brought a smile to 9's face.
"Where did you find this?," he asked, taking the bottle. He set it down on his lap, turning it over. He lifted it up, looking at the bottom.
'We found it in what used to be a gift shop,' said 3. 'We thought you might like it.'
"Oh," uttered 9, "well, thank you, you two." He set the bottle back on his lap, admiring its collection of shells and white sand. "This is beautiful." He tapped his fingers against the glass, then thumbed the cork.
'We tried opening it,' explained 4, 'I think it's stuck.'
"Ah, I see," quoth 9, smiling crookedly, "it would've been nice actually holding one of these." His gaze fell onto the minuscule shells.
9 rose to his feet, walking toward the bookcase the surrounded most of the makeshift room. He set the bottle down on a small empty space where three books must've belonged.
"I'm going to head outside," he said.
'We can join you,' flickered 4, smiling.
3 playfully tugged at his right arm, leading him toward the doorway, smiling. 4 joined by 9's left.
"Come on, 1," said 9, standing by the doorway.
"Very well," he said, standing up, "it is a nice day."
He joined 9 and the twins, making the stroll out into the courtyard. They saw 2 sitting on the bottom step. At the gates, three other familiar faces showed up. 7, 5, and 8.
"Looks like they're back," said 9, gazing at the trio walking though the black gates.
"So it seems," said 1.
'7!,' flickered 4 excitedly, waving. She broke away from the group, and scampered down the stone stairs.
'4, wait for me!,' said 3, trotting down the steps.
1 chuckled.
He and 9 made the stroll down the stairs, stopping at the bottom where 2 sat. The inventor glanced up, smiling delightedly.
"Hello, 1," he said, "hello, 9."
"Hi, 2," said 9.
1 gave a nod, then glimpsed over at the three approaching. 7 came up to them with the twins at her sides.
"You will not believe what we just did," she said, encircling her arms around the twins.
"A beast, perhaps?," guessed 2, raising a stitched brow.
"You guessed it!," chirped 7. She ruffled 4's hooded head, making her giggle silently.
"I'm going to go check up on 6," quoth 5, walking past her, tugging at the straps on his quiver.
"Okay," called 7, waving a hand.
5 made the walk up the stairs while the others watched him.
"So," spoke 9, turning to look at 7, "a beast, huh?"
"Uh-huh," retorted 8, he playfully ruffled the twins' heads.
"Too bad I missed it," replied 9.
"Aw, don't fret," said 7, breaking away from the twins, ushering him over. "You didn't miss a thing." She clapped his shoulder. "This beast, he was a real ugly one. With a skull like a dog. The Coyote, that's what 5 called him."
"Yup," said 8, pointing a finger.
'What else, 7?,' said 3.
"Oh well," cheeped 7, walking over to the garden, "you see, this one was a stubborn beast to take down. And not just because he..."
Her conversation was lost to 1's hearing receptors as he watched her and the twins drift off to the courtyard's garden. 8 and 9 joined them. 1 let out a long sigh.
"Something on your mind?," quipped 2, snapping his head to look at him.
"It's," began 1, but he stopped himself. The inventor looked at him, flummoxed.
A moment passed in silence. Then 1 spoke.
"It's about 9," he said, slumping over, fingers interlocked in thought.
"What about him?," queried 2.
"It's," said 1, looking up, "these nightmares."
"I see."
A loud cackle startled the two, prompting them to glance up, optics resting on the group standing in garden. The laugh came from 8, and he was undeniably ecstatic. The twins covered their mouths, giggling.
"Has he talked to you about these nightmares?," asked 2.
"Yes."
"What has he told you?"
"His recent nightmare," said 1 steadily, "involved getting captured by mechanical arms." He cringed. "They must've been the Machine's, that's all I can come up with."
2 nodded understandingly. He glimpsed over at 9. The zippered stitchpunk smiled at 7 holding out her arms like she were about to fly. This indicated her imitating the beast she and the others took down.
"Was there anything else?," inquired 2. He brought his cane down, the end touching the ground. He was hoping to get more out of this conversation than friendly banter.
"Well," said 1, straightening, remembering something else, "there is one thing he mentioned."
2 looked at him attentively, ready to listen to him.
"He dreamt at the end," explained 1, "that he saw me rescue him." He felt himself cracking under his own comment.
The smile on 2's face grew. "Well, that's different."
"But he also mentioned something about iron wings," included 1, turning to face him.
"Oh," said 2, "iron wings?" He rubbed a finger under his chin. "Hmm. That's something new."
"Do you know what it might mean?," queried 1.
"I haven't the foggiest," answered 2, "this is the type of thing I'd be talking about with 6."
"I know." 1 leaned back, optics gazing skyward. He shielded his face with an arm, the sun's light glaring down at him. "Strange, isn't it?"
"Not so much," remarked 2, "everybody has nightmares. They're not limited to just one."
1 sat up straighter, gazing over at 9 standing with 8, 7 and the twins. The smile on him was bright, content and unrestraint. But 1 could see the restrained pain behind it.
"You know," spoke 1, "I think 9's been a bit cooped up in here."
"I was about to say something about that," said 2, shifting position. "Take him out to for the day tomorrow. A change of scenery."
1 chuckled. "Change of scenery. Everything's practically the same when you live here."
"Not always." 2 pointed his cane at the tall grass blades taking sprouting out of the loose dirt. Observing them, 1 came to the conclusion that he wasn't wrong in his proclamation. Very soon this garden, and everywhere else in the Emptiness, would be lush with greenery.
"Then it's settled," remarked 1, "tomorrow I'll take 9 out, explore what we can. Hopefully this will take his mind off the nightmares."
2 smiled.
The morning sun rose over the horizon, imbuing the sky with hues of faint pinks and orange along with gold tints. The ramshackle town stood silent, worn away with decay; the roads laden with litter and other such rusty, sharp objects. The wind blew, being the only sound one might hear every so often. But with the teeming grass blades, it was a sign that life was beginning to return.
1 looked back at the path behind him, the library miles away from him. He had his crossbow held in hand. 9 stood by his side, lightstaff in hand. He didn't have his penknife with him, it seemed like the logical option, but 9 ventured he could pick up any blade he found in the ground in case the need arose.
"Come along," said 1, motioning for him to join him.
9 walked, sneaking a glance at the library before he looked away, ready to start the day.
"Where are we going?," he asked, catching up to him.
"Wherever we want," responded 1, running his hand across the crossbow's arc. "Anywhere you'd like."
The zippered stitchpunk gazed at the surrounding buildings, most of them being on the verge of collapsing. Some of them still had their windows, with glass intact if they were lucky. The piles of Steel Behemoths to were prominent everywhere he looked; it was something he had grown used to. But no matter what he couldn't make himself get used to seeing human corpses.
The overwhelming guilt lingered in 9 every once in a while, despite trying his best to suppress it. The least he could do was have a good time.
"Look over here," said 1.
9 was broken out of his thoughts, glimpsing over at 1, who pointed at a path to their right. He followed, quizzical.
"What's down there?," quoth 9.
"Let's find out."
He walked beside 1, nervous yet thrilled at the same time. The path they walked by was scattered with many miscellaneous litter ranging from rusty knives to broken glass. Grass patches took over most of what wasn't layered in glass; the touch of green made the ruins look less macabre. 9 observed a dented bicycle, one of its wheels missing; the handlebars useless and broken. Its metal frame was already rusting over. On the brick wall to his left, there was a large red splatter; it could've been either blood or red paint... 9 decided he didn't want to dwell on it, and continued walking.
1 stopped, standing before the remains of a long-ago abandoned establishment. Where there used to be windows and walls, there was now a large chunk of it missing, being a result of the merciless genocide that ended all of life itself. 9 peered in, seeing a glimpse of some grass blades sticking out of the ground. The doorway where the door once stood was wide open, allowing easy passage for any wanderer; pieces of broken glass layered on the floor.
"Come," said 1, holding out a hand. 9 took it, willingly letting himself forget all his troubles.
The two strolled in, avoiding slipping on the shattered glass. The interior was awash with shelves stocked with many knickknacks, some of them holding traces to a time long forgotten. The counter was located further into the shop; a bookcase to the left had fallen, where it leaned against the countertop. A round table held a vase, which surprising had not yet been knocked over. One thing that grabbed 9's attention was a gilded locket that he spotted on the floor. It still had its chain, he noticed as he picked it up. He opened it. Empty. It fit well in his hands.
"That's pretty," commented 1, sauntering up to him.
"I think I might take this with me," said 9, closing the locket, hearing a precise click.
"Of course, of course," said 1, "anything you like."
9 carried the locket under his left arm, taking the time to twist the bulb on his staff. The lightbulb lit, he held it up, and walked toward a further part of the old shop.
"See anything you'd like?," he quoth, surveying the walls and shelves.
"Hmm," mused 1, "I'm not sure."
9 stopped before a wooden box. It was covered in year's worth of dust; he ran a hand across the lid, wiping off some of the dust. He opened it. It was empty, as he expected. The box was obviously too big and too heavy to carry back home, so this one thing he would gladly turn down.
1 wandered across the shop. He stopped in front of a pile of broken porcelain. Perhaps these side to be dining ware. He could see what looked like miniature pink rose on the white porcelain. After a minute, he strolled toward a pile of shiny bric-à-brac. Crouching beside it, he saw that they were chains belong to necklaces. Their pendants were still intact; all he'd have to do was unhook it and they would no longer be part of the necklace.
A whoosh resonated from somewhere, prompting 1 to look over at the entrance. He didn't see anything, but he kept on his guard, turning back to the necklaces. A glint caught his attention, making him sidle over. He spotted a floral-shaped crystal knickknack. Setting his crossbow down, he picked up, observing its shining petals. Smiling to himself, he turned around, eager to this to 9 when a clatter grabbed his attention.
"1!," shouted 9.
1 spun around, dropping the crystal flower, pupils as wide as the moon. Standing over 9, clamped in its razor-sharp claws was an avian type of beast. The beast, which he now called the Skimmer, had wings made of rusty metal blades that moved like real bird wings; but these were not like the black leathery ones from the Winged Beast. It had a birdlike skull for a head, although 1,couldn't identify what kind of animal this skull belonged to. A vulture, perhaps? A condor. Its sockets possessed mechanical eyes, glowing red. 1 could see its ribcage as well as a battery in its core as well as wires sticking out of the ribcage. Its metallic tail ended with a steel claw. It reminded 1 of the arms on the Fabrication Machine. He was not going to stand for this.
"1, help!," reaching out a hand.
1 searched the ground, looking for something to throw at. Spotting a knife with a gold handle, he dropped the crossbow, and went for the knife. Plucking it up, he ran at the Skimmer, knife held like he were about to throw a javelin.
"Get your claws off of him!," hollered 1.
He aimed the knife at its chest, sending it flying at the aforementioned spot. The Skimmer deflected the knife with a wing, letting out a high-pitched garbled caw. It sounded somewhat staticky.
"1!," yelled 9.
The Skimmer flapped its wings, getting lift. It let out another caw. It flew for the doorway.
"9!," shouted 1, following after the beast.
9, in the Skimmer's grip, reached out a hand.
"Help!," he shouted.
When the Skimmer shot out the door, it ascended higher, the claw at the end of its tail snatching at the air. 1 ran out through the doorway, standing, listening to 9's voice crying out to him. He watched the beast until looked like a blot in the sky. Fear, sadness, grief, confusion, humiliation, and helplessness flooded 1. He trembled in silent fury. 1's anger couldn't be soothed by any form of outlet.
He wished for the ground to swallow him whole.
7 clanged her spear against 3's, blocking his attack. The hooded male backed up, holding his scalpel up his face, preparing to make his next move. He swung his scalpel, about to strike when 7's blade slid underneath his, making it fly off his hands. 3 watched with restraint wonder.
"Haha," cheeped 7, "looks like I win again." She smirked.
3 crossed his arms, expressing faux annoyance.
"Hey," said 8, walking up to him, "I think you did great." He patted him on the back. This brought a smile out of him, ending with silent giggles.
'Can I go next?,' asked 4, holding her own weapon: a blunt butter knife.
"Sure," said 7.
Just as the teo were about to start practicing, 8 interrupted by pointing at the iron gates.
"Hey, look," he said.
7 lifted her skullmet, blinking quizzically.
Approaching them was 1, but he was alone. His head hung low, clutching 9's lightstaff oddly. Sensing something wrong, 7 dropped his spear and ran up him.
"1," she said, clasping his shoulders, "what's wrong? What happened? Where's 9?"
When 1 found the courage to speak, it felt as though he had sawdust in his mouth.
"He's gone," he croaked wheezily, "it took him."
"What?," retorted 7. "What took 9?"
"A beast," he rasped, lifting his head up, pupils wide. "A beast took him. I tried to stop it! I couldn't! It—That beast!" 1 held the lightstaff close to him, as though it were 9 himself.
7 glanced over her shoulder, seeing 8 and the twins saunter up to them. The trio shared the same worried expressions as her. She looked back at 1, wincing at hearing the elder let out a choked sob.
It made standing here even more futile than not being able to stop the attack from happening.
Ooh, talk about harsh. Man, I feel bad for him. Hopefully they find him in the next chapter.
