Chapter 9
Figures in the Mist
Helsing was the first to run, making a break for the kitchen!
"Helsing—!" Saga quickly followed after her, as did Maxwell. But they were going to have to go through the crowd to do so!
The Lady Solona was certainly agile, even in the dress she was in. She ducked and whirled through the crowd like a gymist, sometimes using others as springboards. And with the flare of her skirt, it would certainly have been a performance!
Maxwell and Saga though were more bogged down by the ensuing chaos. People were wildly throwing punches, or throwing themselves at one another, creating doggy piles of rolling bodies. Marines used their riffles as staves, trying to push back criminals trying to overwhelm them.
Yet somehow in all the chaos, Carina's performance kept uninterrupted. No one tried to jump on stage and have it out on there. It was like her song was a ribbon in the wind, ever-turning yet unbroken, fluttering against the breeze.
Helsing was close to the doors! "Dammit!" Maxwell ducked out of the way of another thrown torso. "Saga!" he called out to the swordsman and waved his hand.
A glyph appeared in front of him, one that should perform the Fade Step if it worked, this time. "Through here!" However, Maxwell could not afford himself any doubt. It had to work!
Saga saw the glyph and pushed another patron away as he ran forward. Both men entered the glyph and sped like mist through the crowd. Many were startled by the spell, some thinking ghosts had somehow cursed them all!
But some of the marines had a better idea what was happening, "IT'S HIM! IT'S THE MAGISTER! THEY'RE HEADING FOR THE KITCHEN!" Toma yelled over the crowd. The spell worked, but Dreak had clearly informed him on some of Maxwell's capabilities.
Then Toma's voice went shrill when he saw Saga with him! "SAGA!"
The outlaws burst through the doors into a minor foyer where they had entrances to the kitchen, and the men's and women's washrooms. "It won't be long now! The marines are definitely going to lock this place down before—This way!" Saga saw doors to the kitchen were still swinging, so they dashed right in.
Many of the kitchen staff were already against the wall, as if they had already parted way for someone else. They were scared and confused as to what was going on back in the theatre. The swordsman and mage ignored that though as they saw the open door to outside, fog drifting in. Helsing must have ran through here!
Maxwell and Saga exited into an alley where trash and trash cans had been left open, but they could see the trail end of a green dress turning around the corner.
"Solona!" Saga called out to her as the two ran for the street. Their meeting may have been brief but he did feel a spark of a connection with the rogue princess in their talk.
Solona was dashing down the street, while bundling up her dress. Helsing knew she had to run, and hopefully find a place to hide. If not, then she was going to be in trouble. It didn't matter who found her first!
Saga and Maxwell dashed to make chase, but they were interrupted when Toma suddenly skid through the clubhouse doors.
"SAGA!" Toma rushed for Saga, his former mentor. His skeleton hilt katana raised high!
Maxwell looked between Helsing and Saga's disgruntled student, "Think you can take him?"
Saga took out his dagger, "Yeah! Just make sure the old geezer gives my sword back!"
"Right!" Maxwell then sends a mental relay to Mordred, "Good luck!" then the mage gave chase to Helsing, veering away from the hell-bent marine.
Toma didn't even register Maxwell as he ran past him. He just jumped-slashed at the silverette.
Saga was almost sad for his student. His skill with a blade had definitely improved. Quick successional strikes slashed at him with deft hands and blurred speed. Yet he deflected the blows, using his dagger to skate the katana edge away from him, and grappling with his other hand.
Toma quickly broke the hold by elbowing him in the face, then spinning around for a hurricane slash! Saga though, undaunted, leaned back from the katana's edge, then recoiled into a massive shove!
Two palms impacted Toma's chest and stomach, sending him rolling onto the ground. But like a coiled serpent, Toma spun back onto his feet into a low crouch, blade in a horizontal guard.
The two swordsmen circled each other, each reassessing each other's strengths and weaknesses. Looking for when to strike!
"Is this what you've become Saga!? A scoundrel sneaking in the night!?" Toma glare daggers at his former mentor.
"If you already think so low of me, then I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you further Toma!" Saga replied, switching the dagger into his other hand.
"Curse you Saga!" The youth growled, "You were the world to me! A man of principles, despite his injuries, looking to make the world a better place!"
"Then you picked up that damned sword," Toma shook his head. The Shichiseiken, once revered as the World's Most Beautiful Blade, "—ruining everything around you, and now you won't even show me the respect to face me with it!?" He could see Saga didn't have the sword on him.
"The Shichiseiken is a demon's blade!" Saga retorted. "You know we couldn't allow anyone else to fall victim to its influence!"
"We—!? You ran off like a thief in the night! You barely spoke a word after Maya's death! You couldn't speak to Izaya-baba! You couldn't speak to Lacos! You couldn't Elven speak to me! It was like you were dead to the world! Then when Marine HQ called for a report, you killed Bismarck and Boo Kong!"
"They didn't even feel any remorse for what they did! For what WE did—! Under MY influence!" Saga banged his chest, clutching a fist over his heart. He still blamed himself, for letting the sword control him. For his own weakness! "I was already dead inside, and the navy wanted to brush the whole incident under the rug! They didn't care about those who died, Toma! Those who we were supposed to protect!"
When he was young, Saga wanted to become a Sword for Justice! A slayer of evil and guardian of the innocent. He though that dream died when he lost his sword arm, permanently gimp after being tangle in a chain and blown up in an explosion.
It was a sacrifice he was willing to make! To make sure his dear friend Zoro lived when they teamed up, together! The Way of the Sword is a lonely path. Only when they intersected did one meet their destiny! But to reunite with an old friend and cross blade with him! He saw Zoro's strength since he left the dojo, and the sky was only the limit of his potential.
He was still committed to his purpose!
"But Bismarck and Boo Kong—!? They just brushed off their actions with a smile! With no pity! No regret!" Saga pointed his dagger at Toma, "Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have felt disgusted at their smiles!"
For a brief moment, Toma felt a flicker of hesitation flare in his heart. Then and eagle's cry pierces the air, making both swordsmen look up.
It's Buzz in his fully feathered form, swooping down from above the street. A massive eagle, holding a skull and a weapon in each talon. That weapon was his sword! Buzz drops the Shichiseiken above Saga and the swordsman catches it by it's shoulder strap.
Saga glares at the scabbard. The cracked leather. The rusting hilt. An artifact of such beauty, now reduced to an ugly refraction of itself. A sword that has brought him so much pain…
…But he had to let it go. Stowing the tanto dagger, Saga grasps its hilt and flicks the scabbard of the Cursed Holy Sword. It flies off the blade, ringing like a shrill bell. The ominous jade gems turn red and glow in the night, eager for blood to be spilled. His arm begins to burn, as fade smoke begins to waft out from beneath his robe.
"You wanted to face me Toma?"
Saga stood there, bathed in the jade wisps and dark in the cinnabar light. Like a hungry ghost eyeing its prey.
The time for words had passed.
"Then come."
Now was the hour of the sword!
O O O
Meanwhile, "Thanks Buzz!" —it was race time for Maxwell.
The mage willed his foci toward himself as the skull fell from the cap wearing bird. Mordred's skull joined the rest of his anchors around his belt as the sling revealed itself out of the sash's folds.
Max was chasing Helsing into the red light district. The street was full of colourful lights and bystanders. Some people were gangs of men on a tavern crawl. Others were gaggles of gals looking to dance the night away. There were even paramours plying their trade around a street corner. All of them in states of dress Max wouldn't be caught dead it, but ultimately that mattered little.
"Damn it!" Helsing accidentally collided with a party goer, but kept running. Maxwell was fighting to keep up! She was barreling down the street, pushing and shoving people aside as she ran. Sometimes her pet serpent, Alucard, would hiss and make people step back, but that was only when Alucard was watching them!
He didn't even realize Helsing had that snake on her! That dress really concealed thing under there!
Maxwell didn't stop to apologize or hesitate, though. He was jumping, weaving, and magicking his way down the sidewalk, following in Helsing's wake. Maxwell couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop running, or else he risked losing her in the streets and tonight would have been for nothing!
He was gaining on her, though a slower pace! "Come on!" Helsing was quite light on her feet! That must have only come with years of experience trying to escape pursuits like him. The only magic Maxwell dared use was the Fade Step. Any other spell, and he would have had to slow down—! And Helsing already had quite the head start.
Max saw her turn a corner, and immediately hastened his legs to go faster! He was NOT letting her get away!
The mage used the Fade Step to glide into the new road. Alucard had dropped down from his mistress's shoulders while Helsing tried to prying open a manhole cover. She was going to try and escape through the sewers!
Maxwell didn't hesitate, he slammed his hand onto the ground and cast a spell!
"AHHH!" Ice erupts from the sewer grate, trapping Helsing in Winter's Grasp. Cold radiates from the chunk of ice as Helsing tries to pry herself out, but it's useless. Her arms, legs, and dress are sealed shut in the frozen prison, and only her head can move. The serpent retreats from the ice, recoiling from the sucking warmth the ice permeates. Alucard had been too close to the spell to begin with, and it shivered as it searched for warmth.
"FINALLY!" Maxwell huffed as he slowed his beating heart. It had been a hard run!
"ARGH! MAGISTER!" Helsing had rolls her head to chew out her pursuer! Maxwell walked forwards, carefully keeping an eye on the kuja-hebi to see if it react to his presence. However, the serpent seems to have coiled up on itself, trying to preserve it's body heat. Alucard wasn't going to be slithering anytime soon.
"Expecting someone else?" Maxwell introduced himself, half rhetoric, in the deserted street.
"Damn you!" she spits out.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me, my lady."
"What in infierno are you even doing here!?" Helsing cursed, "Don't tell me you're actually here to do my tio's dirty work!" but then she paused.
"He just wants you home, princess!" Maxwell tried to stress. "Look I know nobility can be a circus sometimes but—"
"Ha! Hahaha!" she chuckled, "You actually think you know the nobility? Vete a la mierda, pedazo de mierda! You have no idea what's going on in this country!"
"…Maybe. But you're in no position to negotiate, princess!" Maxwell thought it strange how he had to chase her five blocks down a street to escape him. Last time, she used that crystal powder to escape the square. Did that mean she had none? Or was there a falling out?
"Ha!" She hung her head, her hair covering her face, "You have no idea just how much danger you're in, hombre."
Maxwell thrusts his hand to grab Helsing by the cheeks, "What do you know about the Children of Nightmare? Where are they!?"
She shakes her head out of his grasp, "You sure you want to know that?" Helsing smiles despite her captivity, "Those locos really have it out for you…!"
Maxwell grimaces, "I already have an idea about what they are serving… And if they actually have the means to summon it here, then they have to be stopped!" Maxwell conjures a fireball and holds it like a pitcher, "Now where are they!?"
"AKUMA GAS!"
"Oh no!" Maxwell looks up at Helsing's response, only to be blinded by a jet of mustard collared smoke. He coughs and stumbles back as he is forced to choke on the foul-smelling concoction.
"*COUGH—!* Fuck…!" Max suddenly feels his throat tighten and his muscles twitch, contracting! It's the gas! Maxwell can't breath, the fumes acting like a nerve agent!
Maxwell quickly tries to casts Dispel on himself, trying to disrupt the toxins. He's on the ground but Maxwell feels the magic working! The mage rockets out of the snake with a Fade Step. He makes it out, but Maxwell still lands on his hands and knees as he retches from the poison in his system.
"Jeez, did you have to spray it near Helsing, Skunk One?" A muffled voice spoke in the gloom. Maxwell looked up to see one of the Children of Nightmare, wearing a gas mask approach. "You know she's one of our allies, right?" He heard the sound of ice shattering. They were here for her!
The smoke clears, and Maxwell can see Helsing coughing on the residual fumes of his attacker's smog. He wears the same robes, but it's more like a cloak, as it hangs over an unusual hump on his back.
"What allies-gas? You know what the master wants-gas." Skunk One, a small statures man with a beak like nose and huge overbite, stands on one of the jutting icicles. "She needs to be part of the machine Rachet designed-gas. I did my part, Borodo-gas."
Skunk one then takes out a pouch of powder, "I'll make sure to get her out of here-gas. YOU just make sure the Magister dies-gas! PRAY FOR THE NIGHTMARE-GAS!" He throws it down, and both he and Helsing disappear in a cloud of blue dust.
"Prey for the Nightmare…" Borodo takes of his mask and pulls out a kris dagger. Maxwell could barely make out any facial details below the hood. But he could see the eyes. Both sclera were bloodshot red, and Borodo's pupils were dilated to almost pinpricks.
This guy wasn't a cultist. He was a thrall!
Maxwell rolled when Borodo brought down the knife to stab him. His movements were almost mechanical. With every step, Borodo knelt down to stab the dagger into Maxwell's heart. However the mage kept rolling.
As he did, Maxwell tried to observe Borodo. If it was his intent to kill him, Borodo was doing a poor job of it! Most thralls, from what Maxwell had read, weren't as jerky with their movements. Their very will would have been supplanted by the maleficar's blood magic, and would carry out their orders without hesitation.
So maybe, this victim still had a meter of willpower left!
Maxwell had heard stories of victims to try and resist possession. However, almost no one was prepared to defend their own mind. Most thralls were mindless, little more than puppets. If this thrall was capable of speech, then the maleficar they were facing was more powerful than Maxwell thought, or this guy was another example of Grand Line bullshit-ery!
Drawing Mineive's hilt, Maxwell uses it like a wand to summon a Stonefist colliding with the blood slave. Borodo was thrown onto back by the rock, but like some sort of demented puppet, Borodo stood back onto his feet. Maxwell watched in fascination as he stood up; Knees, pelvis, torso, they all snapped up like hinges as Borodo stood erect.
"Good hit," Borodo's shoulders popped back into place. He didn't even wince pain! "But you're going to have to do better than that." The dagger flicked into a normal grip.
Maxwell energized his familiar's anchors and had them fire off arcane bolts to keep Borodo at bay. It worked, to an extent.
Borodo wasn't quick, but he took on heavy fire all while keeping his left arm raised. He was using his left forearm as a shield.
As the sleeve tore away, Maxwell could see a metallic glint under the fabric. Steel bit into the thrall's bicep above the joint, and Maxwell realized this man also had a prosthetic arm! The extension was about twice the size it should have been, encased in a bulky shell. However Borodo's prosthetic actually allowed for hand movement and a full range of motion! The fingers moved and the elbow's hinge was mechanically flexible! Maxwell would have been in awe at the technology if he wasn't trying to stay alive!
But that arm also gave Maxwell an idea!
Maxwell started aiming for that arm, his familiars focusing on the prosthetic! He started using Immolate, trying to expose the mechanical arm!
Borodo kept walking through it though, stabbing his dagger downwards at the mage's chest! Maxwell jumped to the left, flicking out the the Spirit Blade like a whip! Each one was deflected by the kris, then Borodo reached out to grab his neck!
Maxwell allowed it, taking a calculated risk! His iron fist felt like a vice-grip, choking the air out of him, but Maxwell held onto the gauntlet! He pushed his leg against Borodo's chest and armpit, making the arm stretch further!
"ARGH—!" He felt the kris dagger drive into his thigh, again and again! The wavy edge burrowing through his flesh, but Maxwell held strong! Using his good hand, Maxwell aimed at the bicep of Borodo's mechanical arm and fired a Stonefist!
He got lucky, overpowering it. The Stonefist fired like a cannon shell and ripped through the trall's arm! Blood and shavings went flying while Maxwell fell like a plank of wood! Maxwell had quite literally disarmed him!
But it wasn't over! Though jerking at the trauma Maxwell had just inflected, Borodo still knelt down to stab Maxwell again through his side!
"GRAH!" Maxwell cried out in pain, but clubbed Borodo with his own arm! Borodo's head flew around with a meaty thwack, then Maxwell blasted him away with a Mind Blast!
Maxwell winced at the pain, but he had to keep the dagger in for now! First he needed to cauterize his leg!
Using a trick he hadn't used since he was an apprentice, Maxwell summoned fire around his prosthetic and slammed it onto the wounds! The smell of burning hair was disgusting, and his fleshed sizzled, but it was working! The brand will keep his wounds shut until he had time to recover.
Maxwell got up, throwing the dagger out of his liver! Then he sealed the wound with ice, hoping the contract the blood vessels around his side. It was all sloppy work, but it'll do for now!
Taking a risk, Maxwell withdrew Mordred, Mineive, and Salem, and conjured a Spirt Blade attached to his own prosthetic. Then Maxwell rushed in with his weapon held high!
Borodo tilted his head at the change of tactics, but raised his fists and dagger. If the Magister wanted to die so quickly, he was welcome to it.
Maxwell started with a stab. Borodo parried! Jab! Grab! Chop! Block! Maxwell had the advantage of his blade being left handed. Plus, they were equal now!
Maxwell jutted his head into hand, activating a Mind Blast, throwing the thrall down! But as Maxwell made to thrust, Borodo kicked up at his chest!
The mage stumbled back, but kept his advantage! He struck down Veilstrike, repeatedly, onto Borodo's prone form!
Bang! Bang! Bang! Each strike felt like a safe being dropped on him! Yet Borodo could not feel a thing! The pain like an empty echo in the back of his head.
Then Maxwell froze him in ice! His torso like the back of a blue turtle.
"Huh. So you can be effective at melee range." Yet, the blood thrall didn't seem concerned. Borodo smiled, almost like he appreciated being defeated.
"Who are you!?" Maxwell barked, bringing another spirit blade to his neck, "Where are the Children of Nightmare hiding!?"
"Now now, Trevelyan, even you know this thrall can't answer that question." Another voice, a deeper voice, then began to speak over Borodo's. It chilled Maxwell to the very bone. Borodo's eyes glowed with a sickly hue of green. The corners of his mouth stretched into an almost impossible grin!
"You…!"
"Yes~" The Nightmare spoke through Borodo's body. Plucking at the bloody strings that bound the thrall to his master. "Well, well, if it isn't my favourite plaything."
Maxwell brought the blade closer, "Leave this body! You have no right to him, demon!" The blade grew brighter, as if reacting to Maxwell's intent.
The Nightmare threw back it's head and laughed, "HA! Hahahahaha! No right? I have EVERY right!"
The Nightmare leaned forward pressing Borodo's jugular against the edge of Maxwell's construct. "This body was offered up to me by my champion! I felt it, as my priest plunged his blade into this one's heart and sewed the gaping wounds back together!" The demon turned Borodo's head as if to eye Maxwell, "You think you can stop what's happening?"
A cold pit began to drop in Maxwell's stomach. "Even now, my followers gather to herald in my arrival. I will be PHYSICALLY in the Grand Line!" The Nightmare shivered as if anticipating the moment, "So much power… abundant like berries in the brush. Succulent fruit, waiting to be plucked, leaf and stem!"
Maxwell wouldn't deny, there was a lot of power to be found in the Grand Line. The seas were turbulent and the seasons were without reason. The Islanders inhabited the Fade like pegs on a crib board, watching over their inhabitants like silent guardian angels. Pirates roamed the seas like lions, powerful and blood thirsty. And Devil Fruits were abound, stemmed from the reckless fallen sailors who entered the Pirate's Graveyard.
But the most important, and relevant, fact was that the Grand Line was shielded. Some misty barrier hovers in the Fade barring all entry into its space, effectively isolating the stretch of ocean. The only way to dream-walk in was to be physically in the Grand Line. And spirits didn't have this workaround luxury. Not unless they wanted to expose themselves!
And this demon may just have a way…!
"You're in over your head again, Trevelyan. Crippled. Weak. Drowning in the vastness of powers both near and beyond. Hahahahaha!"
Quicker then he could blink, the ice shattered! Maxwell suddenly found himself pinned on his back, Borodo's hand clutching his face like a claw.
"Fortunately for you. I still want you alive." Those unholy green eyes of the Nightmare bore down into him! "Armless or not, your affinity for the Fade far outstrips that of my chosen… It's almost ironic how much he wants you dead! Whereas I need you alive..."
The nightmare chuckled, "My priest may bitch and complain, but by the time he fulfills his role, his usefulness will have come at and end. And I will have collected a new puppet to entertain my hunger." Fear paralyzed Maxwell, as the Nightmare turned his jaw to face him.
"So by all mean, little bird, spread your wings. Pretend you can be a creature of the night. Swoop down and try to catch the mice flittering in the dark. Are your feathers clipped, owlet? Your wings aren't what they used to be."
The Nightmare then leant down and whispered in Maxwell's ear. "But be warned, mage. The darkness you stumble in is like the depths of a coal mine. Be careful not to become the canary and choke on it's fumes. For it is the maw that will swallow you whole!"
Borodo then coughed up a glob of blood. Half retching, half laughing, a coagulated mass bubbled out of his throat. It seemed to ferment and writhe on the city street as Borodo threw it up! Maxwell looked at it in horror. A pure manifestation of blood magic, cut out of the thrall like a slab of meat.
The blood shivered to a halt, then he lights in Borodo's eyes then dimmed, signalling the demon's withdrawal. The Nightmare was gone, for now…
Borodo then promptly fell unconscious, collapsing on top of the mage. Maxwell barely noticed him.
"F***…! I really am out of my depth here…!"
…It was over…
Why did that feel so fast but so slow at the same time!?
Maxwell dragged a hand over his face and closed his eyes. He had to centre himself.
He knew why, of course, logically. Encountering that demon, fighting without a staff, it was a rush! It awakened something in him! Old memories, old fears, hidden fears, new ones.
Just staring through those primeval pools… it had made him remember what he had forgotten.
The fear.
The terror.
"Maxwell, focus! You have to deal with that side wound!"
Maxwell could remember it now. That primal sense of hysteria emanating from it's ancient presence. Maxwell had rocketed through the Fade. He had seen many things through the void, but now he remembered where it began. What he first sailed through.
A veritable a sea of screams and hideous laughter!
The clacking of hungry mandibles of a giant spider, as eight lightless eyes pierce your soul. The thundering charge of a blighted war party, darkspawn prepared to destroy everything in its path. The piercing roar from on high before a dragonfire rained down upon them. The cold dread as the executor looms above you, steel kissing the nape of your neck!
They all laughed as they played on people's fears! Ghouls, imps, abominations! Demons, all laughing, jeering, cackling as they became your source of terror! Your most crippling anxieties!
But nothing, no demon or spirit, could compare to that moment when Maxwell set eyes upon it!
—His familiars tried to focus through his hand, using its proximity to heal the wound!
Power beyond comprehension! Horror beyond reckoning! Fear that crucifies you and leaves you paralyzed in horror.
You dared not scream. You dared not look away—! Lest it suddenly disappear and stand behind you!
That's what it looked like. Tortured souls and wicked hearts all revolving around one central demon.
The Nightmare…!
He remembered the demons being stirred up in a frenzy. Claws reaching, arms lashing, teeth gnashing as they suddenly saw unexpectedly prey the feed on—!
And then it was gone—SNAP! Like a fleeting dream… But it very, VERY, much real!
That's what he saw at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. All as the Fade flew him away like a fleeting gale. Terror incarnate. Feasting on the fears and horrors of dreaming souls just before they woke up.
…And his sister had defied it. Twice!
He couldn't help it. Maxwell laughed. The absurdity of it all! The Inquisition! Corypheus! The return of the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel! It may as well have all been fairytales! BUT IT WAS REAL MAKER DAMN IT!
Tears ran down Maxwell's face. Whether from hilarity, or terror, he couldn't tell!
A demon like that didn't need to possess a mage. All it needed was a victim, an idea, and take its time corrupting it into whatever depravity it could unfold! Then the Nightmare would let it go, the dream rapidly unraveling, and the memory would swallowed up it like cooked noodles.
O what terror it could unleash if it was in the real world! Beyond the Veil! In this Blighted world abandoned by the Maker!
…
…But why hasn't it crossed over yet…?
Maxwell paused, suddenly sitting up straight. Borodo's body sliding over to the wayside.
WHY hasn't the Nightmare crossed over into THIS world?
It was like cold water had splashed over him! There is no Veil here. Nothing standing between this world, and the Fade.
So why hasn't it emerged from one of the Four Blues? There were plenty of men, women, and mages across the seven seas. It didn't even need the Grand Line to emerge into the physical world and terrorize its people!
So why has it only attacked mages in their sleep? And why bother gathering a cult to help summoning it?
Something wasn't making sense here.
Maxwell frowned, "Or have I gone crazy again?"
"No. You're actually quite sane, despite it all." Mordred replied through their mental connection.
"And you may actually be correct," Mineive agreed with her master. "Something doesn't add up in this little mystery of ours."
"Spirits are capable of manifesting freely here. Little Garden and Merry have proven that," said Salem, stating the facts. "For what reason would a demon of fear need a flock of followers? It has a whole kingdom orbiting its space, engorged by terror of the Blights. Surely Fearlings, Wraiths, and other such demons would have followed their leader here." All three of them were still working on his wound!
"And yet, no demons…" Maxwell agreed, suddenly taking interest in his own health. They would have leapt at the chance to be here! A free range or mortals, battlegrounds, and ruins. The temptation would be irresistible!
…Maxwell looked down towards the strewn body of Borodo, resting on top of his legs. Pausing, he reached over and placed two fingers against the side of the thrall's neck, in morbid intrigue.
Borodo was… amazingly alive, for a former thrall. His plus was slow, but steady. Maxwell thought it might have been a minor miracle for his survival. But now the question was: What was he going to do with him?
Maxwell had already lost Helsing. But, Borodo here was a thrall working directly under the cult.
If he woke up, there was a chance that Borodo would remember some details about the Children of Nightmare. He could interrogate him! Whether or not Borodo was a willing victim.
However, there was also a chance Borodo would remain permanently comatose. Blood magic affects both the mind and body. Suddenly having the infection ripped out of you was sure to be traumatizing, and Maxwell wasn't sure he wanted to find out.
Correction, he knew how he could. The act of Mind Walking.
—Maxwell hissed, refocusing on his own wounds.
It was a spell that used blood magic to draw the victim's consciousness into the Fade so that a practitioner might communicate with them. Maxwell had done a deviation of this spell when he used Blueno's blood to have Mordred, Mineive, and Salem lurk in the assassin's mind. The power of his Door-Door Fruit was simply too potent to ignore!
However, Maxwell was hesitant to use it on Borodo. There were too many questions as to his origins. And Maxwell feared he may damage Borodo's mind beyond repair if he tried.
He was going to have to stash him somewhere. Somewhere he could keep him hidden.
Maxwell didn't want to risk a hospital. There was a chance the city guard would catch wind of his prisoner and interfere with his business. Bellos had already proven that tonight…
Perhaps his hotel room? He was already using it as a base for operations with Saga and Schneider. However, dragging an unconscious body past a bustling tavern was sure to raise questions. Even the inn keeper. Maxwell wasn't sure Ever would ever allow it, no matter what relationship she had with Schneider.
So where could he hide him…?
"My my… Now this is a find," a feminine voice sounded behind him.
"Who's there—!? Argh! Maxwell quickly pushed Borodo off of his legs and jumped to his feet. He had no idea if they were friend or foe. Although, he had to bend over fowards, still reeling from the pain!
Turning around, Maxwell saw a woman hiding behind the street lamp. She had been surprised, not expecting to be overheard. However, she quickly schooled her features and walked into the light.
Maxwell thought she may have been a prostitute, given her attire. She was blonde—hair done up in luscious curled pigtailed. Hoop like earrings hung on her earlobes. Her eyes were like delicious caramels. Long black eyelashes, and purple eyeshadow, giving herself a sensual look.
She wore a black and yellow corset, with the letter "Q" stitched onto each bosom. Her underpants were also black and yellow, with a fur laced waistband.
Her leggings were also mismatched. One was a black fishnet, while the other was a pink stocking, but rims had that same fur cuff on resting against her thighs. And she wore low red heels.
Maxwell wasn't impressed with a bumblebee theme, but he knew better than to judge a threat on first appearances. "Who are you?"
She smiled, teasingly, the way only women knew how. "The name's Honeyqueen. But feel free to call me 'Queeny,' or 'Honey,' or whatever else you like, sugar," Honeyqueen winks at him. "Now, what's your name?"
Maxwell felt awkward at how flirtatious she was being, but answered, "Maxwell Trevelyan."
"Trevelyan…? Trevelyan…!" She closed her eyes as if trying to remember where she had heard that before.
"Oh! You're that magician that's in all the wanted posters! Part of the Straw-Hat Pirates, right?" Well, at least she was informed. "…Where's your beard?"
"Ugh…" Maxwell hung his head, still healing himself. He was never going to let this down, was he?
"Anyway," Queeny's eyes drifted over toward Borodo, "I'm impressed you were able to take Borodo down. He's a tenacious bastard when he thinks he has a chance."
"You know him?" Maxwell gestures to the unconscious thrall.
Honeyqueen reluctantly nods, "Yes… I know him. AND how he got mixed up with the Children of Nightmare. If you're fighting them, then I think you should listen to what I have to say. —Not here though…!"
Maxwell stares at her for a moment. She's not uncomfortable, but Max could tell Honeyqueen did not want to have this conversation out in the middle of the streets. The fact that she didn't know who he was right away suggested that she may be a third-party. And if she knew about the cult, then he could get some valuable intel out of her.
"…Alright," Maxwell wills his mace back into it's holdster. The fact whether she could be trusted or not could be determined later. "Where are we going?"
Honeyqueen stands up straight, turns around, and starts walking down the street. She gestures behind her, "Make sure to bring the theif with you. He's going to be important."
"Thief?" Was she referring to Borodo?
Maxwell gives the man a look-over before trying to drag him him up like a dead boar. It was a little awkward, picking him up. He had to hook Borodo's legs around his good arm, and hold his forelegs.
"Grah! …Bitch!" His left side felt like pins and needles as he dragged Borodo on the street. Honeyqueen had picked up his mechanical arm, leaving him to drag the body.
The mage then follows the Honeyqueen though, into the night. Hoping he can get answers…