Chapter five: Down in the Crypts
Disclaimer¦ I do not Highschool DxD
At some point in our lives, we've heard the many stories where some brave hero gives their life to make a better tomorrow and save the day. And because of their sacrifice, the good guys win, the survivors all cheer, and evil is vanquished. But the heroes, they never know if their sacrifice meant anything. They never know. They just hope they do; and the people they leave behind, they're emboldened, no, they're pissed that their friend had to die and are ready to put their enemies heads on pikes for revenge. The conflict ends, they mourn the dead, life moves on, and it's the survivors' responsibility to rebuild so that the sacrifices weren't in vain. And the hero never knows that, because of their sacrifice,
Ain't that a bitch?
Kazuto's chest rose as he took a quick, desperate breath for air, his exhale disturbing the dust from crushed stone and the ash. The Library was torched, nothing remained but the shape it left in the ground; the stone pillars had completely shattered when the explosion went off, which, of course, was no surprise. The wood in it's design was either still burning or was nothing but ash being blown away by the late night wind. Nothing left but rubble and destruction and a remote, silent forest. Except for the sinking hole where the main hall was built. Much of the rubble had fallen into the pit, an empty, carved labyrinth underneath the building that had once covered it.
Kazuto's eyes were moving underneath his eyelids, dark crimson circles around his eyes, blood flowing from a deep cut on his scalp. His eyes opened slowly, red and irritated, before he looked around in confusion, nothing but stone and the dark. Kazuto tried to move, straining, heaving to get up. All he could do was move his head. Kazuto took a wheezy breath as he managed to stand up, though he was hunched over as he did. He clutched his side in pain, a jagged, deep cut that was oozing and bleeding, meat, skin, gore, and blood sticking to his burned and hole riddled black t-shirt. Kazuto grabbed at his side, ignoring the sickening squelch his hand made when it touched the wound, as he walked forward.
"Why am I not dead?", Kazuto asked, his voice hoarse and dry. He ducked underneath a pillar, light invading the dark and illuminating the small portion of the collapsed building. His body was sore as he took a few steps, or limps forward toward the exit, stepping out to a hallway carved from stone and covered in runes and glyphs. Kazuto increased the pressure on the wound near his oblique muscles (even though he never exercised), and took a step forward, his boots stepping on the dirt floor as he reached out and ran his hand against a familiar image carved in stone.
The Grim Reaper sat on his horse of bones, the stallion standing on it's hind legs and kicking the front ones, the skeleton rider on it's back holding on by one boney hand, it's scythe at the ready to reap the poor soul that ran from it's master in the other. Kazuto shivered at the image and removed his hand from the image and moved down hall, ignoring the haunting images of death, and the horror of torture in the afterlife carved on the walls. Finally, after at least a minute of walking, the carvings ended and it came to one room, held shut by a steel door. Muffled music played behind the shut door. Kazuto placed his hand on the knob, anxiety causing him to look behind himself. This place is damn creepy and there is no way it was empty or that nothing heard a building collapse into the catacomb. Kazuto took a deep breath and opened the door.
Gimme, gimme shelter or I'm going to fade away!
Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones played on a cassette player in the small room, modern fluorescent lights hanging above and illuminating the table in front of him, a respirator mask and a sawed-off double barrel shotgun with an ammo box filled to the brim with shotgun shells. Kazuto felt like he had stepped through a totally different place; a runic catacomb and then the Institute? The exorcist checked behind himself again as he shut the door, unease eating away at him as he walked toward the table, his hands touching the mask and gun before he noticed a small piece of paper, folded neatly and tucked away underneath tbe respirator. He slid the piece of paper out from underneath it's hiding place, unfolding it, and read the note scrawled out in Sharpie:
If you're reading this, it means you're on Ghül duty. Good job pulling the short straw. Taking care of the Ghüls is simpls; feeding them is all you have to do but if they get disobedient, use this shotgun and send them back to our Lord. And wear a goddamn respirator, it smells like shit. Don't know if it blocks out smell, but here's to hoping for you. DON'T GO NEAR the ones who are changing. Yours,
- A
Kazuto put the note down, confused. What the hell is a Ghül?
He looked at the steel door, footsteps echoing and getting closer. Shit! Kazuto panicked, looking for somewhere to hide but the small room offered no hiding spot. Kazuto just hid next to the doorframe, hoping no one looked next door. The door swung open, Azureil walking sporting bandages wrapped around his back where his wing used to be and, smelling blood and turned to Kazuto.
"Really?" the Fallen Angel asked. "Did you even try to hide?"
Kazuto rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you didn't give me much to work with so this was the best I could think of at the time. Yeah..."
"I mean, you just hid next to the door, I could've come in looking towards you and it'd be over in a second if I had my gun."
"Yeah, I know..."
The room was filled with silence and it became awkward. Kazuto punched Azureil dead in the nose with his left hand, bones crunching in Azureil's nose and Kazuto's last two knuckles.
"Ah, what the hell! You can't even knock me out!" He placed a finger on his nose. "Ow! I think you broke my nose!" Azureil sat on the floor, trying to stop the flow of blood from his nostrils.
"What about my knuckles!" Kazuto sat on the table, holding his last two fingers together.
"Do you even breathe with your fingers?!"
Kazuto shouted, grabbing the shotgun and slapping the Angel in the jaw with the handle and sending his head down to the floor. With an unconscious Fallen Angel down, and proof that he wasn't alone, Kazuto had to get back to the church. He looked at the small shotgun in his hand; 8 gauge, no stock, and light. He was going to enjoy this.
He leveled the shotgun down to Azureil's head and pulled the trigger. The gun just clicked.
"Well, that didn't work and I'm not killing him with my teeth." Kazuto said with annoyance.
Kazuto decided it was a good time to treat the oozing wound on his side. He lifted the T-shirt up, barely able to keep himself from gagging as the clotted and definitely infected wound dripped bits of meat as the squeezing of his shirt left when he pulled it off, his absolutely broken fingers screaming. In pain, Kazuto wrapped the tee around his wound and tied the sleeves for more pressure. Kazuto tried, he really did. Holding it in was hard.
He screamed.
He screamed in agonizing torture, tears of pain clouding his eyes. The scream echoed down the hellish hallway, and the sound of running footfalls down the runic hall.
Oh, fuck me!
Kazuto grabbed the shotgun, finding the latch and breaking the weapon in half, two spent shells wizzing past his head. Kazuto rushed to the table and practically ripped the top off of the ammo box and dug his hand in, shotgun shells dripping from his hand as he loaded two in and placed the rest back in the steel box and took the box into his right hand, the shotgun in his left.
"Come on, you sons of bitches!" Kazuto shouted as he placed his shoulder to the right of the door frame. Valkyrie was somewhere in the rubble, and, as shitty as he was with guns, he needed something to protect himself.
"We need Azureil back here!" a woman shouted from down the hall. "I can't handle our Lord's gifts alone!"
Men, all garbed in long, black hooded robes, Ak-47s in their hands as they sprinted toward the exorcist, their cloaks billowing behind them. As they ran, at the same time, quick and calculated, they removed their right hands from the trigger, and pulled back and cocked their rifles, bullets raining down against the stone wall Kazuto hid behind. With ricochets in his ear, Kazuto waited for a pause, which finally came when they had to reload, and charged out the door and toward the Cloaked Men. The Cloaked Men finished reloading and the brass hail flew once more, bullets catching his right arm twice, both of his shoulders, and three times in the right leg. Kazuto pushed through, his will alone pushing him along. The hall seemed to shorten as Kazuto slid past the Cloaked Men, and unloaded a round into the man on the right. The gun bounced, sending his wrist back farther than his .44 did. His wrist ached, but the man fell to the ground. Kazuto whipped around quick before he got a round in the back and shot the remaining shell, lead thunder tearing into last Cloaked Man. Kazuto got up, aching and sore, but he was still kicking.
He looked down and placed the shotgun in his pocket, the weapon making his pocket bulge and the handle stuck out. He pried the fingers off of the AK and held it up. Looks cool, he thought. He rounded the corner, rifle in hand, before he stopped immediately. What he saw was shocking.
A female Fallen Angel was kneeling, blue magic battling in her hands, her Victorian dress barely passing as clothing with all the rips and tears it had. Kazuto watched in amazement, blue bashing against dark purple, magic becoming unstable. The Fallen screamed in effort, literally haulling the black magic toward herself and threw it up into the air. With a sense of accomplishment, she kneeled in a bizarre way.
She was offering herself.
"Oh, mighty Hades, Ruler of the Underworld, Master of Death, I, your humble servant, plead to you oh mighty Dread Lord, to bestow upon me your gift to control your subjects!"
The magic became unstable, warping and shaking until the magic dissipated, leaving behind a large black mass. It was indecisive, flickering between the Angel and the exorcist before it flew through Kazuto so lightning fast, he didn't see it move. In an instant, all the energy and the warmth disappeared; Kazuto felt frozen to the bone and exhausted to the point where he could barely hold himself up. The mass stopped as if to mock before it shot down the hall. Toward the unconscious Azureil.
Kazuto knew he was fucked if he stayed, so he ran as fast as he could without passing out.
"I want HIS head! Send the Ghüls!" an angry voice came from deep within the cavern. Kazuto just kept running, no idea where to, but he had to get the fuck away. Kazuto could hear people running behind him but he didn't look back. Fuck this place. Kazuto had no idea when he got outside but he was. Doesn't matter, he thought, he wanted to get the hell away. Soon enough, after what felt like years, Kazuto stopped. He fell to his knees, his skin crawling and chalk white. He tried to keep himself from hyperventilating but failed. He felt different; that, that thing had taken his mind and his energy. He felt helpless.
Four girls rushed him, and they wore the same school uniform. Confused, Kazuto lfted his AK, only for a girl with blonde hair and gray eyes to put a sword to his throat. Kazuto could've cared less. Two girls were behind him, he could sense that but he couldn't see. A girl with beautiful eyes and hair as crimson as the blood flowing from his wounds approached him, placing her arms under her bust.
"You were the one who destroyed the library and killed the Fallen we were after. You have my thanks."
Kazuto felt exhaustion on a level no ordinary human could, like he had ran across the Atlantic, but decided to fall asleep then and there. Kazuto leaned and collapsed, asleep. He could still hear voices, and after a few minutes saw the red flash.
