"So, why are you headed off to Orario?"

Jove attempted to make small conversation with his two new traveling companions. In particular, the question was directed to Abel, who was seated to the left beside him. Abel had been surprisingly quiet ever since he had boarded the wagon. His brother seemed quite content with staying his rather isolated self, finding himself a cozy seat in-between the boxes of varying spices. Abel just stared up and out into the night sky, the trees momentarily blocking his vision as the trio continued to ride.

"Oh, just visiting someone," Abel replied, his eyes still fixated on the spacey spectacle above him.

"I see," Jove said, half to Abel and himself. Jove felt as though it was getting harder to engage in small talk at his age, much more initiate it. He somehow felt compelled as both the driver and the owner of the wagon to do so. In his mind, he frantically began searching for another topic to discuss with his supposed co-driver.

"Ah, another," Abel noted to himself mentally. Another star had shot across the night sky, painting a stream of milky white across its blackened complexion, if only for a moment.

Seeing the slight shimmer of vim in the young man's eyes as he continued to (quite literally) stare off into space, Jove committed a driver's sin and allowed his eyes to wander upward. Jove's mouth gaped slightly as he did so. It was almost as if he reverted into his childhood. Memories began coming into fruition through his eyes as he continued to stare. And in an instant, he was back as a child once again.

His grain-sized fingernails clasped onto the rough bark of the oak tree. He felt the thrill of the wind rushing over his messy hair as he continued his climb, each breeze filling his adventurous spirit. The branches seemed so close yet so far as he continued his climb, yet it made his heart flutter with exhilaration all the same. Suddenly, a loud snap rang out in his ears as the branches now grew farther and farther, seemingly rejecting his naive hands. His vision blurred in estranged color pallets as his fragile and frail body spun about in the summer's winds. The azure blue sky meshed violently with the deep emerald grass. Flashes of a towering brown tree stock continued to glare at him as he descended further down in a wild spin. Suddenly, darkness enveloped his eyes and the world went still. His limbs tingled and quivered, but it all felt so still around his frail figure. He felt his muscles stiffen against what he presumed was dirt. Then came the strange yet all too familiar feeling of tears welling up in his eyes. He stifled them briefly but it only served to bolster his ever sudden outburst of cries and wails that resonated from his parched and tender and infantile lips.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Abel said—still not taking his eyes off the sky. But, he still noticed the childish wonder radiating off of Jove.

Jove shook his head to prod his mind back into focus, back into the present.

"Yes, they are," Jove replied quietly. "I had forgotten just how beautiful the sky looked at this hour."

"Hm, you wouldn't be the first," Abel said gently, somberly as he finally averted his eyes from the stars and turned his head back to the road.

"Oh yes. Jove?" Abel said, now turning his head to the right to stare directly into Jove's eyes.

"Y—yes?" Jove stuttered out, shocked at the sudden action and by the sheer intense stare that Abel's eyes held.

Abel's finger straightened out to point towards the path in front of the wagon. "Tree," he said plainly.

Jove's eyes shot open as he pulled the reins of the horses to the side, causing them to swerve sharply to the side. Mere moments after, a darkened silhouette of a piece of the surrounding forest that had long since collapsed, was passed by the wagon.

Jove was panting heavily from the adrenaline rush he felt a moment ago. He clutched at his chest, trying to quell the now erratic beatings of his heart. It felt as though that maneuver had just shaved off five years of his life. He could feel his death now... heart failure.

"Good reflexes Jove, as expected from an experienced driver such as yourself," Abel said, smiling warmly at the elderly man.

"Wha—Why didn't you say something?!" Jove cried. He swore his heart couldn't take much more of this.

"I did, didn't I?" Abel retorted as he closed his eyes and leaned back, his hands interlocked together and planted on the back of his head.

"Doing good back there, Seth?" Abel called out. There was no vocal answer to his question. The sound of paper turning was the only indication of an answer. "Ah, he's fine. Didn't skip a beat in that book he's reading."

"Sounds like a real page turner," Jove joked, trying to lighten the mood and the stress on his heart. Abel chuckled as he closed his eyes.

"Yeah, no kidding. Although..." Abel's lips curled into a mischievous Cheshire-like grin. "Elise will forever be a better partner for Joseph than Kathryn could ever dream of being."

The atmosphere in the back of the wagon sharply became murderous at Abel's statement. The bloodlust was practically palpable from Seth. Jove felt shivers run down his spine at the sharp contrast between the once passive man to the now homicidal man. Abel just laughed.

After the three traveling companions had calmed down—Jove maintaining control and speed of the horses, Abel lazily leaning back and relaxing in his seat, and Seth resuming his reading—they traveled in relative peace and silence. Only the ominous hooting of owls and rustling of nearby bushes broke the silence, though they could easily be ignored. They traveled like this for a short while, until suddenly, Jove brought the reins to his chest abruptly, causing the horses to grind to an immediate halt. Abel was halfway through a yawn before his body was jolted forward. It was his turn for his eyes to shoot open in shock.

"Woah! What's going on?" Abel asked, his neck cranking in every possible direction in utter confusion.

"The—the road... it's blocked..." Jove answered, his voice teeming with fear.

Abel shook himself out of his stupor and narrowed his focus towards the road. It was blocked. But it wasn't by a tree trunk. Instead, it was a wagon, not too dissimilar to the one that the three were riding in. Abel let out a deep exhale and turned to Jove, his gaze solemn and dour.

"Jove, are you afraid of death?" Abel asked, his voice barely audible.

What sort of ridiculous question was that? What kind of sane person wouldn't be afraid of death? Only suicidal maniacs wouldn't fear such an all-powerful thing as death. It is the ender of all things, the consumer of life. How could anyone not fear that kind of absolution? And what awaited him after death had consumed his flesh, leaving it rotten and putrid? Heaven, to be with the gods of Tenkai? Or was it nothing, like all the skeptics believed and preached? Though, if he had to be honest with himself, that wasn't what terrified Jove the most about death. It was the pain that was associated with it. Some are just lucky and pass away in their sleep, peacefully succumbing to their demise. But most were unfortunate enough to feel the clutches of death pry into their bodies and rip their souls merciless; all the while, they would scream and beg for mercy, their faces flushed in pain-filled sweat and tears.

Yes, Jove was afraid of death.

"I—"

"If you are, then I suggest that you close your eyes and cover your ears for the next short while."

"Wha—"

"You there!" a masculine voice called out from the treeline. "Get the fuck out of the wagon with your hands up!"

The voice was slightly muffled, suggesting that the man had some covering over his face. On the edge of the treeline, on the left hand side of the wagon, the twilight of the moon dimly lit the silhouette of a hooded figure. His physique was brawny and muscular. In one of his hands, the silver blade glimmered in the moonlight. Its edges were chipped and gnashed, causing it to become serrated.

Jove felt cold sweat begin to formulate atop his forehead. He felt his gut churn; mucus stick to the back of his throat. His hands began trembling violently. Though he tried to stop them by clenching the reins tighter, it only served to make his fear more vivid and visible. Jove turned to Abel in response to the man's demands. Abel however looked to be preoccupied. He was diligently unwrapping the bandages that covered his left forearm. In the back of the wagon, the indifferent sound of another page folding and turning could be heard.

"I said get the fu—"

"Hush..." Abel said quietly, grimly. He was on the last strip of gauze that covered him.

The man grit his teeth in fury. How dare he tell him to 'hush'?! The gall of the bastard. He ought to teach him some manners. Yeah, he'll personally gut the sod. He turned and shook his head forward, gesturing towards the stationary wagon. The bushes all around the wagon began to rustle once again, and figures hidden in the forest's womb began to emerge. They wore hoods and were equipped with various weapons. Five had daggers; three had hatchets. And last, the most muscular of them held a battle ax. Nine had emerged, including the leader who would make it ten men in total. They began to slowly move towards the wagon from all directions—weapons drawn and poised with murderous intent.

Two of the men with daggers came from the right; the other three came from the opposite side. The three men armed with the hatchets crept up to the back of the wagon. The man with the ax stood beside the leader of their group. The moonlight revealed the pearly white teeth of the leader's grin as a sickening, sadistic smile spouted on his face.

They were merely ten feet from the wagon when the last bit of bandage fluttered and fell upon Abel's lap. He looked to Jove and saw the sheer fear within the elderly man's eyes. Abel smiled warmly. "Don't you remember our contract?" he asked. "And now would be a good time to do what I told you earlier."

In an infinitesimal instant, the two men approaching the wagon to the right, behind Jove, suddenly burst into geysers of blood. Their flesh seemingly liquified into the all too familiar shade of crimson. No scream came from them, only the sound of their fresh blood splattering onto the dirt road. Before Jove or the other assailants could react to the gore, Abel turned to the other three men approaching his side of the wagon. Upon gazing into eyes with the leading man of the three, the once vivacious blue eyes became lifeless and grey. It all happened so quickly, far too quickly for the naked eye to process. First the right arm, then the left leg; the abdomen, the collarbone, the chin, the temple. Each strike was a mere nanosecond apart from one another. The man's body became a mist of blood that splattered onto his compatriots. At first, it didn't register to them. Then they felt the estranged liquid spatter upon their faces, their skin becoming painted a deep crimson red. Then, they heard the sound of flesh squelching upon the ground, mushy and fleshy. Finally, they noticed the body, or what was left of it. It was now nothing more than an oversized slab of sliced, butchered, and slaughtered meat.

Before either of the two could scream, Abel put his index finger to his lips. That was all they saw before they could feel their limbs and innards begin to slip apart. Their viscous bodily fluids were all that remained to try and hold them together. But it was moments later before their bodies splattered upon the ground, falling and shattering like fleshy glass.

The men flanking the back of the wagon saw it all. Each and everyone that was approaching the wagon was turned into glorified pools of flesh and blood. Their bodies had seemingly erupted into violent streams of blood, their organs nothing more than chunks of meat to smother together against the dirt road. The three men looked to each other, and without a word, dropped their hatchets and fled as fast as their feet could carry them. They only took four paces before they collapsed to the ground, joining their companions in the clutches of death's grasp. Once again, it was far too instantaneous. First their feet, then their calves. Thighs, waists, chests, and finally, neck—the strikes were traveling upward. Soon, there was not enough flesh to strike anymore.

From the treeline, the last two remaining men could only gape at the scene with wide eyes. Everyone was dead. Anyone who had approached the wagon was reduced to carcasses if you could even call them that. "What the fuck..." was all the leader could mutter, his grin far gone. Never before had he seen such a slaughter. No, this was an absolution. There was no fight, no struggle, not even a scream.

Abel's scarlet eyes narrowed at the two remaining highwaymen. He couldn't let them live; that would be a violation of his contract to Jove. These men were still alive and still posed a threat to them. Their very existence dubbed them as such. Abel scooted himself to the edge of his seat and pushed himself off the wagon. A small puff of dirt and dust formulated around his dress shoes as he landed. He slowly began to walk towards the edge of the treeline, caring for his step to disallow blood from tainting his footing.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Neither of the men had moved, their bodies visibly shaking. Their souls cried out in terror for them to move, but their mortal coils kept them from doing so.

Those who are confronted with a terrible fear of an unknown entity will either do one of two things. They will either try to conform themselves and try to coexist with such a thing, or they will attempt to terminate it with extreme prejudice. The muscular man chose the latter.

He let out a fierce cry as he swung his ax overhead. He ran full force at the young man, continuing to cry his lungs out to bolster his strike. In a few short seconds, he was a foot away from Abel. Adrenaline pumped to every corner of his body, fueling him to the verge of madness as he swung his ax down to strike Abel's face. However, the flattened, cold steel of the ax's blade never met its target. Instead, it became suspended in the air a few inches away from Abel's face. The man couldn't move, he couldn't even move his facial expression. He was seemingly frozen in time.

Abel simply stepped to the side and continued to walk forward, past the ax and the man wielding it. After taking three steps, Abel snapped the fingers on his left hand, and the paralyzed man burst into blood and flesh, like the others before him.

That's when the leader saw it. Strings. They fluttered about and glistened in the moonlight. They were everywhere—weaving in-between the high branches of the surrounding forest trees, winding around the leaves of nearby underbrushes, and coiling themselves around the bodies of his fallen comrades. But most importantly, they were wrapped loosely around the young man's forearm, fingers, and fingertips. The leader turned around and saw countless strings blocking off any chance of escaping. He was in a spider's web, woven by this would-be victim. He dropped his blade in a pathetic surrender of defeat.

Abel stared callously at the man. He noticed; all the strings littering the forest. It was such a shame that it wouldn't change the outcome at all. He was already dead the moment he called out from the treeline. Abel raised his left hand towards the man and clenched his fingers into a fist. There were no screams, pleas, or prayers as the man ceased to exist in his entirety. The strings hung all around collapsed in on the man, in sync with their master's command. They wrapped around every inch of his body, covering him like a mummy. Then, they all began to gash into him.

First, his skin, then the muscle, finally the bone.

When the swarm of string subsided, not even a drop of blood was spilled. The liquid was seemingly vaporized by the contemporary and countless flurry of slashes, along with everything else. Abel sighed, and with a flick of his wrist, summoned all the strings back onto his forearm. They all dispersed from the high branches, the leaves of the underbrushes, and the fresh corpses of Abel's victims. They all reeled in and returned to their resting place, undoing the web in its entirety. Sure and satisfied that he had not misplaced any last bits of string, Abel turned and made his way back to the wagon. All Jove could do was stare as the young man sat beside him once again.

"Sorry, you had to see that. But for what it's worth, I think all in all that went rather well. Wouldn't you say so, Jove?" All Jove could do was blink before he felt his consciousness slip from his grasp as he collapsed backward into his seat.

"Oh, whoops."

"..."

"Well, I did warn him."

"..."

"Hmm, how about the two of you switch spots. Our courteous driver has earned his rest, wouldn't you agree?"

From the back of the wagon, the sound of a book cover thumping together as it closed was heard. Soon after, a masked face emerged amidst the boxes of spice. Seth looked at Jove and slid his hands under the elderly man's arms. Scooping him up, he gently placed him lying flat on the wagon's bed. After ensuring that he had not placed Jove in an uncomfortable position, Seth slipped out of the wagon and sat beside his brother.

"All set?" Abel asked, smiling smugly. Seth sighed and nodded as he reached back into his cloak and pulled out his novel once again.

"Alright, now then," Abel said as he grabbed hold of the reins. "Joyride!"

For the next short while, screams of pain and tear-filled apologies rang out throughout the forest and into the night.