<< - Do you need it again? - asked the town's wise man.
Namjoon was a man with such an old appearance that he seemed to have an ancient oak bark as a cuirass from so many folds in his brown skin. He was observing him, waiting for an answer, sitting in a rocking chair that looked as old as his owner, in the gallery of the entrance to his house.
A teenage Yoongi was on his knees in front of him, resting his forehead on the wood of the worn and dusty floor just a few steps away, in a silent plea that the man understood well.
A thick, wide black jumpsuit covered him, with a hood that practically covered his entire face. Despite not being able to see them because of the thick cloth, the old man knew that the young man was wearing headphones because they played music so loudly that he could hear the rumbling of the instruments even from his seat.
Namjoon sighed, closing his eyes slowly as he stopped rocking, ready to get up from there.
It didn't make sense for him to speak, as he knew the boy wouldn't hear him with that thunderous noise in his eardrums. The pale, thin boy never wanted to hear around him the rare times he left his half-collapsed house.
He was not that old in vain, so he safely assumed that what the teenager did not want to hear was not audible to others, and he was not old enough to meddle in such matters. He didn't want to delve too deeply into the reasons as to why this young man needed his help.
From his neutrality, he also did not judge the coat that Orphan Min wore even on days of sweltering heat. He had seen that as he walked, he covered his view to the sides with anxiety, sometimes even tugging at the edges of his hood so as not to see beyond his own feet.
The boy heard and saw things that others did not. It was evident to the elderly observer… and the rest of the people. Even the most ignorant of the town avoided approaching the desolate terrain where the white-haired young boy now lived absolutely alone. There were no visitors, no letters, no friends, no family. The old house of Min shamans was an area that no one wanted to tread, fraught with bad omens and death.
Slowly, Namjoon headed inside his house to find a bottle of water on which to pray, determined to intervene only with that pious favor.
He did not wish to have the same fate as the young man's parents. >>
The hospital ward smelled of death.
The unearthly cold that absolutely enveloped the entire site seemed to have no intention of abating. The windows were misty, already with a light layer of frost.
The only ones in that long corridor were the two of them.
Yoon did not represent any risk for that millennial entity that had manifested there and had made it clear. Despite having declared his intentions to eliminate him, the figure of the caramel-skinned young man was still in a relaxed posture and smiling superiorly at him.
That way of underestimating him only infuriated the Medium, determined to make him swallow his words one by one, infatuated as an infant. Min hadn't come prepared, but he always boasted that he had an ace up his sleeve, and he would not allow that cloudy night to be the exception. He clenched both fists, wrapping the only items he carried inside his coat: an ancient relic and his precious holy water.
He wanted to kill him.
He was determined to do it.
He had imagined that same privileged situation a thousand times. He had dreamed of that precise moment so many nights that he could not count them… but he was at a disadvantage. It was only a few months since he had made up his mind to fight for his pathetic fate, and he hadn't expected to find the cause of his misfortune so quickly.
He didn't have half the experience he should have to face a fucking ancient demon like the one he had right now in front of him. And although he bothered to admit it, there was an unavoidable reality to what the entity had told him in the beginning: he never had a guide. He knew little, primarily self-taught and a little that he remembered about his parents.
But he didn't have time to pity himself on his life, which was draining rapidly by the minute.
Breathing in that rotten air that churned his insides, he made up his mind to put an end to it all. If he had to die trying, he was ready for that to happen, then… Or so he told himself as he took his first step.
Yoongi was quick, at least from a human's point of view. He ran towards the demon, closing the distance with agility. His speed was fueled by the irritation generated by the sneering smile that youthful face gave him and the flash of laughter that he could see in her lifeless eyes.
He mentally repeated every inch of approach that it would kill him. He would eat so much expensive food that he would gain ten kilos. And that, of course, he then would charge his service exaggeratedly more costly.
The holy water flask inside his pocket exploded in his hand, and only there was he aware of the pressure he was exerting as he approached the Vetala, who challenged him with a pedantic smile.
"There is no turning back…" He would try his best with what little he had. "It doesn't matter if I'm dying. I don't have much time left, anyway," he encouraged himself.
A war cry rose from his throat, a product of adrenaline mixed with the pain he felt. He pounced on the entity that seemed to be amused by his pathetic attack, finally lifting in his good hand an ancient cross that he had obtained as a reward for one of his works.
The absolutely black orbs of the demon stared at the antiquity before returning his attention to the boy's face with no trace of amusement on his features. He clenched his jaw, hardening his countenance, making him terrifying. He was fucking pissed off, and in the center of his ego, for a few brief moments, the young Medium rejoiced, knowing that the one who had erased that sly smile had been him.
However, his attack was abruptly stopped from one second to the next when the Vetala was inches away from his face in a split second. The wrist where he still held the relic was being held by one of his icy, black hands, while his neck was held firmly, but without pressure, by the other, like a silent threat. His long fingers were so cold, they burned where they touched skin.
-Where the fuck did you get that from? - He asked, almost brushing his nose on his, filling the silver-haired's nostrils with putrid breath, so intensely that it made his eyes sting.
The Medium did not reply and only smiled with difficulty but victorious.
His bloody hand tightly grasped the one clutching his neck with another swift movement.
The small pieces of glass from the jar that he broke dug into his palm, but they didn't hurt more than the rest of his body, nor did they waver in his determination. He held on with all his might, muttering words in a lost language.
Blood and holy water mixed into a single liquid falling onto the demon's arm that smoked as a chilling roar came from his thin lips.
He had it.
The prayer had been learned by hearing it repeatedly from Namjoon's mouth over the years. He knew from the effects the water had on his pain that some power must have over that particular demon. The cross, however, knew exactly what it was for. He had heard it from his royal owners, who, desperate for his help, offered it to him as a reward.
When the Vetala wanted to withdraw his hand trapped by the Medium, releasing his neck in the process, Yoon slipped out of his grip on his good arm and nimbly placed the cross on the entity's open palm.
The pale boy superiorly stared into the deep, dark orbs of his opponent just before seeing him crash to his knees as if there was a massive weight on him.
-A containment… – the demon murmured, looking at his hand, which was squeezing the relic against his will, driven by its power – That's a dirty trick… But you know I can go against this… - he added, then turning his gaze towards him, with hatred on all his features.
I know… - muttered the other in response, but without erasing the smile, as he panted from the pain in his hand and body – But, in the meantime, you can't leave or hurt me unless I do it first - He said, reciting what the client had said about that object.
-Where did you get this?- He asked again, relaxing his tone of voice to return to the same sly air at first, but with his rigid expression in clear annoyance.
-That's not the point now, - he replied, trying to think clearly how to proceed. He knew that that cross was a momentary prison, and he doubted he would give him too many minutes to act. He could see the Vetala's smoking fingers tremble around the carved hilt and he knew he was trying to loosen it. If he didn't hurry, he was likely to make it before he could do something to eliminate it. That ancient incantation only gave him time, and he wasn't sure how long.
-Well, it seems to be an interesting fact that is worth telling… – his voice was still casual, despite struggling to free himself from his invisible hold. His muscles were abnormally marked, adorned with veins as black as his eyes that bulged through the caramelized skin. Yoon could notice that the walls and the floor, just as venous as the body in front of him, were beating at the same accelerated beat, probably concentrating on opening that palm that was holding the spell – But if you don't want to tell me, at least you could tell… Maybe your idea is to defeat me with this trick? –
A wry snort came out of Min's mouth.
Fucking no. He knew not. He had only one attempt to deal with the situation that he had. He shortened his time span. He had to channel all of his energy into a single blow and hope that it would serve since he had nothing concrete to eliminate a demon of that caliber.
-Give me enough time, – he replied dryly. He couldn't just let go of it, either. It wasn't an option.
-I don't think it will work out for you, – the demon said mockingly, raising his head to look at the boy for a moment, with a row of sharp teeth in a huge smile that evoked the expression of a true psychopath.
Min swallowed hard.
He did not answer because after his statement, the being kneeling in front of him leaning to the right side to see behind his back as if observing something in particular – You have a visitor, Min Yoongi – told him the devil, with curious amusement.
It was impossible.
He wanted to laugh at the poor attempt at distraction. He hadn't felt a thing. Never a presence (living or dead) escaped his sensitive perception… but he could not do it.
The sound of the door opening thunderously made him turn in surprise to the rear of him, only to see the precise instant that the irritating boy with glasses rose from the floor with a ridiculous expression of triumph on his face.
He was drenched in thick, dark blood as if he had wallowed in that filth that secreted the walls. Of course, he couldn't smell it like him. It was likely that he couldn't even see the hideous throbbing reliefs that covered most of the pavilion.
-What the fuck ..?- He murmured, looking at him with both anger and surprise.
It couldn't be. Again he hadn't felt it.
He did not understand how an ordinary subject could twice in the same day be imperceptible to his abilities.
-So pathetic is your sensitivity? Didn't you feel it?- Scoffed the young man kneeling on the floor.
-CLOSE YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!- He yelled at him in exasperation, addressing the demon, again losing his composure.
Everything had just gotten complicated. He already had a difficult situation without the "help" of the nosy hospital owner's son.
-No, Yoongi, you are going to close your mouth- said that uptight man solemnly, taking a step forward, finishing crossing the entrance - You are both arrested - he sentenced.
He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or hit him.
"Have you no idea when to stop?" he thought.
Yoon watched as the throbbing veins began to spread in the direction of this Hoseok guy. They moved fast, intertwining with each other as being part of the same living thing… or semi-alive. With disgust, the eyes of the pale young man saw how concrete masses were slowly generated in front of him that took the form of human arms and hands as dark as tar.
He saw them crawl from the floor, the walls and the ceiling making unpleasant sounds.
Averting his eyes from that disgusting live mutation, he glanced at young Jung, who was keeping oblivious to his surroundings.
"The idiot didn't see it. He didn't see anything that was happening". He wanted to yell at him to go away, but he didn't. He wouldn't listen to it. He was too stubborn for his own survival.
He had just condemned himself. He couldn't defend against it. If he did, it would be spending his only attack.
-Choose me? Or your friend? - The demon asked behind him, at the precise moment that several of those limbs pounced on the criminalist, climbing up his body and going to his neck to squeeze him in unison.
Something inside him squirmed uncomfortably, watching the young man try to breathe unsuccessfully. Still, he refused to give importance to his own sensations. He had long ago decided that people weren't worth it and that he shouldn't be attached to any.
And, damn, that guy had just met him. There was no reason to waste valuable time on him. He had to save his very existence right now.
"He's asked for it ..." he told himself, returning his full attention to the Vetala.
-It will not work. I don't care what you do with this guy. - he just answered him. His guts made a strange sound at his own words.
-Oh, you really don't care?-.
-It was exactly what I said, Vetala… -.
-How much formality…! We are already acquaintances. Call me V. – The boy replied, amused as if he were not strangling someone at that very moment.
A monster. Beneath that profiled and the attractive body was a fucking monster.
-Stop talking to me-.
-Will you let him die? It feels like a familiar moment… – The boy smiled, showing his pointed teeth again – Ah, of course! Like when you let your parents die!
Yoon tensed in his place.
-That was something totally different-.
-Did you ever wonder why you are living? - He asked, almost interrupting him, with a half-smile.
-Because you are a sadistic son of a bitch who decided to kill me slowly ..- he answered confidently.
"V," he laughed uproariously. Min felt sick with the whole scene behind him, even if he was watching it directly. He could hear the young Jung slowly stop shaking, only accompanied by the unintelligible pleas of the ghost of his mother.
-You really never see anything that's in front of your eyes,- the other ruled when he finally stopped laughing.
Icy arms wrapped around Yoongi under the Vetala's amused gaze. The criminalist's mother had separated from her son.
-I can't do anything… - he murmured, gritting his teeth without even looking at her. She smelled of blood. Not just that mess that soaked Hoseok's clothes, but a strikingly fresh one that made him watch the hands squeeze him. In desperation, she had scratched her own firstborn to save him.
She didn't like his answer because she squeezed him tightly, digging her fingers into his chest like a silent, distressing plea.
-I can't,- he repeated.
If he attacked first, he would release the demon. The containment was clear about it, it only guaranteed a single attack before breaking and he couldn't waste it.
-But I can,- V interrupted, drawing their attention.
What the fuck? – He couldn't even reply. After his brief statement, the woman was already with the demon from one moment to the next.
-She can't free you… – he told him with less firmness than he would have liked. He was not really sure. His knowledge of that cross was only the sayings of those who had given it to him.
-Of course not .. - the man said calmly - But you never understand anything, Min Yoongi.
For a fraction of a second, Yoon saw a silent apology in the ghost's sunken eyes that left him puzzled. After that, she put her hands on the demon's bloody hand.
-She can't free you,- he repeated with a dry mouth.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, suddenly feeling slightly dizzy. The air was getting heavy.
-Have you ever heard what can be done with blood?… - the demon asked, openly ignoring the words of the silver-haired man, as if he had not said anything that deserves to be answered.
Yoon began to see something cloudy. The pavilion started to blur from one moment to the next.
-What are you…? - He trailed off, feeling short of breath and partially understanding what was happening.
His blood. He had given him access to the blood of his own accord when he exposed it to the water in the flask. And he was mixing it up with Jung's, in who knows what a twisted dirty trick.
-Son of--…!!! -
It was hard for him to think. The air was not entering, even though nothing was choking him. Evidently, he was beginning to decompose like the criminalist, as if they were one.
The pavilion began to spin uncontrollably by the time it finally dawned on him that he was dying too and whirled toward where the boy with glasses was already purplish.
The demon's laughter rang out loud in his eardrums as he tried to run toward Jung. The remains of bodies already held him a meter from the ground, where he was suspended inert. He had stopped moving and seemed unconscious.
He knew it wouldn't be long before he ended up in the same situation.
Summoning all the energy he had left in his suddenly numb body, he leapt into that slimy mass made of limbs.
Everything happened confusingly. Yoongi knew that he had attacked, but he did not even know if he had hit the target. He only knew that he was on the cold floor and couldn't open his eyes.
-You wasted your attack, Min Yoongi ..- V whispered in his ear before he fell unconscious.
WordPress.com
No comments:
Post a Comment