Black Eyes Chapter 8: Prison Break

he three sat and stood in a cave-like place Mike had shown then, tucked away not far beyond the great Magmalian wall. Clover hardly said anything; it seemed tears were all that she could put forth. It’s all my fault, she kept thinking. The place was cool, and the sun was cast behind the western hills, and was completely hidden. A dim, eerie mist flowed through the quiet place that seemed to darken by the second.

“We need a fire,” Mike said, standing.

“There’s only one way this could work,” Kyle said, after quite some time of silent brainstorming, “but we can’t be the ones to carry out the plan; we’re wanted, and no doubt even posters of us are already put up.” Clover jumped up quickly in fright, clinging to Mike who was close by, staring out at the entrance of the cave. The boys flashed their sights over to the figure a little distance off.

Though the figure was shady and dim, recognizing the long, black overcoat and the elegant handle jutting over the figure’s shoulder, Kyle knew who it was. A visible smirk appeared on Kyle’s face immediately. “Blade,” Kyle greeted, walking toward him quickly.

“Could it be?” Mike wondered, trying to identify the figure clearly, squinting his eyes, “Blade, the legend of Zakashi Village?” Mike wondered aloud.

“You know him?” Clover asked, already admiring the man’s straight, silky hair, wishing she could steal it even for a day. The man walked toward Kyle, making himself a bit more visible. He grabbed the boy’s steady, outstretched hand and held it tightly for a moment.

“I am Mike,” the now jittery introduced excitedly, rushing to him. Clover just continued to look at him, certain he couldn’t perceive her stare as she was at the darkest part of the cave.

“Greetings,” the man’s voice came forth – he had the polished voice of some kind of nobleman or high ranking army officer. Still, the sound of potent youth was in his voice.

“What’re you doing here?” Kyle asked.

“Stole my question,” Blade replied, “I don’t have a deed or title, but this is my territory you’re in – my hideout,” he told Kyle. Still, there was no sign of threat or annoyance in his voice. He sounded more like he wanted them to feel like his guests.

“Our apologies, Blade,” Mike came in, “it’s mighty fine meeting you in person, though.” He laughed a little. Kyle glanced over at Mike curiously.

“This man saved Lex’s life back at Smoke Hill a few days ago,” Kyle went on.
Clover looked at the man with new interest, wondering what had happened back at this ‘Smoke Hill’ her brother spoke of.

“I get the feeling he isn’t out getting us dinner.”

“He’s captured,” Mike confirmed without hesitance.

“Hn. This kid knows just how to find trouble where it’s hiding, eh?” Blade said, not sounding the least bit surprised or sympathetic.

“This kid sacrificed himself to save us all!” Clover attacked fiercely in Lex’s defence, making Blade look at her quickly. “He turned back and froze the guards so we could escape!” She was unmistakably annoyed with Blade’s tone and apparent indifference to Lex’s capture.

“Hmmm…” Blade muttered, obviously trying hard to understand the situation properly. “Just what are you kids up to?”

“We killed the queen,” Kyle answered, a hint of pride in his voice, like he was the one who actually committed the act.

The aloof expression of Blade’s face was distorted for a little while, and he was silenced by what he had heard. “Heh… Assassination of the Magmalian Queen… Been hearing whispers of that since only a few hours ago… Am I to believe that a bunch of bored kids pulled that off? You know, groups more powerful than you can imagine have failed terribly at assassinating even the high generals… And you three along with that Lex kid took down the queen?” His scepticism was obvious, and though he had many reasons to believe that such a story was made up, Clover flared up at him.

“Don’t joke about it!” she blasted, her voice twisted by her crying. Blade looked at the girl’s face, at her eyes, and looked back at Kyle.

“Hmmm… Way to make it into the bingo book…” he said under his breath.

“Please, Blade, we need your help to get him back!” Kyle begged.

“That’s right! Mike came in, “Word is you can kill anyone with one strike of your sword!” the boy raved.

It seems this man’s quite renowned, Kyle thought, wondering just how skilled Blade really was.

“Can you really help us, Blade?” Clover asked, “We’re begging!” she pled, crying even harder, “I’ll pay you back somehow! Please! You look like a good man!”

“You assassinate the queen of the second most powerful province in Libson, and you think you can pay me to get involved in this mess?”

“Second most powerful?” Kyle inquired curiously.

“Though uncommonly known, the Herculean army is superior to the Magmalian – their weaponry and tactics are far better, and their rigid system gives far less room for corruption.”

“Looks like you really know your shit, Blade!” Mike commended, sounding quite impressed.

“I do my homework,” Blade answered, his tone conveying his slight smirk.

“Lex!” Clover reminded, sounding gravely annoyed.

“Hmmm… The queen was killed… I assume a powerful sorcerer got you in and out of the tower and has abandoned you now that the deed is done.”

“She didn’t abandon us!” Clover said, “She…”

“Same thing!” Kyle came in harshly.

“I see… In any event, security will be much tighter everywhere in the province for at least a few months.”

“That’s no matter! We need to get him outta there!” Clover cried, “We’re the reason—”

“That’s enough, Clover!” Kyle came in on her, glancing back at her with fierce eyes.

“The queen… Was her murder well deserved?” Blade asked.

“It was,” Kyle answered quickly.

Blade seemed to ponder deeply for a moment, then he made a low sound that they couldn’t quite read. After a short while longer, he made a sudden snap, and in an instant, five armed men surfaced at the mouth of the cave, each dressed as mysteriously as he. Mike grinned, even chuckling a little. Clover gasped in fright, uncertain whether to rejoice or force herself to summon up mana. Kyle just looked on with widened eyes. “I never fancied that woman anyway,” Blade said, “now listen closely; this is the plan…”

***

The bleeding, half dead Lex sat in a cold, dusty cell in the Magmalian prison. Chains of thick steel bound him to the rough, dirty floor. His wrists were tied together behind his back by the special black rope. He was quarantined, put further deep than even the beasts who killed women and ate babies alive. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, trying harder than ever to summon up even a bit of ice energy, but the only result was a faint wave of pain pulsating from his wrists and his head. He wondered wearily whether he was blind; not even a strand of moonlight pitied him where he sat. His hunger seemed to wither and turn to dust , leaving only a hollow, empty feeling that made him want to die. After thoughts that couldn’t help him escape flooded his mind, even they left him, and he lost even the ability to think, or to remember anything. He felt completely alone, but he wasn’t. He opened his eyes again, seeing nothing, then he closed them resignedly and found a strange, sudden peace in the stillness.

Trium… he heard the faint, familiar voice whisper, He is coming, Lex Leo… You must find the other half… Only then can I lend you my true power… Hurry, Lex… The prince… he seeks it…

***

After what seemed an eternity of waiting to the most wanted criminals in the province, midnight had finally come, and it was time for Blade’s plan to be executed. Blade, the ‘Legend of Zakashi Village’, and his team of experts and samurai walked purposefully along the dark road, none of them carrying swords Master Chuck would rank anywhere below ‘A’, none of them with swords or fists that were unfamiliar with blood. Kyle kept up with the men, feeling humbled by them already and more than honoured to be trotting the same ground as they. Mike was made to stay back at the cave with Clover, who bothered him even more with her sobbing and worrying. “The prison’s thirty-five yards ahead,” Blade said in a low voice. From where they were, they could see standing lamps at the prison gates and guards watching militantly. “This is as far as you go, Kyle,” Blade informed, and the group halted with him.

“What you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice down, confusion and disappointment wrinkling his face. Blade pointed to a bundle of rocks a few yards by.

“The pile of rocks, that’s your spot,” Blade said.

“My… My spot?”

“Yes. Stay there and keep watch.”

“Keep watch?” By now his tone reddened.

“Seems he’s a little slow, Blade,” one of the men muttered, causing another to snicker quietly.

“You’ll remain here. You joined my team, so that’s not a question,” Blade made clear. Kyle hissed and pouted quietly, slowly finding himself behind his rubble.

Blade and the others continued and soon reached the gates, walking up to the guards with the expressions of no-nonsense killers on their faces. One man put his hand out to stop the highly suspicious group of men in black coats, who weren’t even trying to hide their arms. “Major Nines speaking,” he introduced, sounding just nervous enough for Blade to recognize, “there is no visitation at this hour of night; please return in the morning, at the third hour the earliest,” he informed them. He, along with the other soldiers about kept their hands close to their swords and their eyes fixed on the group of men. Blade and his men analyzed everything quickly. There were six soldiers there, including the major, as the men had expected, and perfectly enough, Blade and his team were six.

Blade made a visible glance just over the Major’s shoulder, then made a slight nod, distracting the man for an instant. Then, in a quick movement, the six ‘visitors’ drew their swords as one. They guards drew theirs in defence. Knowing how the Magmalian soldiers were trained even better than they knew themselves, the six men easily, with accurate predictions, read their movements and killed their opponents, each with a single fatal attack. Stealth was critical; deaths had to be instant; there could be no clashing of swords, no screams of pain, no leeway to signal for backup.

The six guards lay dead on the ground in a pool of blood. One of Blade’s men bent and took a key from the Major’s left shoe without guessing. The man tossed the single key to Blade. Blade made some hand signals to the men, signalling wordlessly to them to stay where they were. They nodded in understanding. Blade jammed the key in the door and turned it. He entered the large room of cells, leaving the door open behind him.

Inside was dimly lit. There were several entrances and guard posts to the main campus of the prison – Blade had hypothesized that the prisoner he was looking for was being held in this particular building, which was the least visited and one of the least often used. Tens of cells were joined together on each side of the long room, leaving an unpaved aisle running between them. The cells went dimmer and dimmer as they went down the line. Another guard walked up to Blade quickly, looking confused and worried. “How—” He glanced down at the blood dripping down from the sword Blade held in his right hand. The blade was sleek and slender, and seemed to hunger for even more blood. The soldier cast his eyes back up to Blade. “Who—who are you?” the man asked, his voice shaking uncontrollably. He slowly drew his sword, obviously wondering if it were a good idea.

“Better question. Where is Lex Leo?”

The man’s breathing became excited and Blade could hear his heart pounding out of his chest. He pointed the shaking sword toward Blade, who seemed not to even notice it. “I don’t-- know who you are, young man, but I am a well-trained soldier!” the man struggled to say, “and I have here a first grade sword, and I can call for backup!”

“Now that won’t be necessary,” Blade said in a calm, emotionless tone. “Just lead me to the Icemaker.”

“I can’t do that; I’lllose my job!”

“You will lose much more than that if you don’t begin to cooperate,” Blade told the shaking man in an unquestionable tone. Blade could almost hear the soldier’s thoughts word for word as he looked at his face: the guards out there… they’re all bloody dead! They don’t pay me enough for this… But if I just hand the prisoner over… Those idiots behind me are sleeping… Maybe if I could wake them up… Blade already assessed the situation, and worked out the most probable endings. Blade looked down the dim aisle. There were four soldiers behind the shaking guard, their backs flat on the hard floor, their heads on small bags. “They couldn’t help you if they were awake and had me surrounded,” Blade said.

“Your sword,” the guard said nervously, “lay it down and I will free the boy,” he said. Blade, still looking at the man with blue-cold eyes, cased his sword and rested the sheath against the wall just behind him.

The empty-handed Blade looked at the guard, and saw his expression change slightly. Blade sighed, realizing the man’s thoughts. With a sudden burst of noise, the guard charged at Blade sword first. With a simple movement, Blade effortlessly evaded the attack. He grabbed the man’s wrist, jamming his thumb’s nail into the artery there, slicing it. The prisoners began a chaotic uproar. The man’s sword fell from his hand as blood spewed from his wrist. Before the man could cry out, Blade grabbed his head and forced it down to meet his rising knee. The impact knocked the guard unconscious. Blade tossed the soldier aside as the woken guards rushed toward him with their swords. The swordmaster maintained his composure, dismissing the enemies without trying. He grabbed the first attacker’s right wrist, dodging his sword, then jumped and kicked the other incoming soldier, sending him crashing into another. Blade flung the soldier he had grabbed behind him; he hit the ground hard, his wrist bleeding out. The fourth soldier made swift, accurate swings at Blade’s head and chest, but it took nothing out of Blade to dodge each attack. Barely moving from where he stood, he avoided each of the well-made swings. Blade then made a sudden jump-kick, sending the man a few yards away to hit the ground hard and roll turbulently, leaving his sword behind.

One of the guards, on rising, swung at Blade’s neck from behind. Blade lowered his head, and the sword nearly grazed his hair. There was a cracking sound as Blade wedged his heel under the man’s chin, then turned in the air with a powerful spin-kick, blasting the man’s cheek so hard that his head took a three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn on his neck before he fell. Blade grabbed another rising soldier and bashed his head against one of the cells. Rough hands reached though the bars and grabbed the soldier’s head, dirty nails digging into his flesh. Blade turned and helped another standing soldier to his feet, then broke his neck and let him fall. “Quiet down! Quiet down and you’ll all be released!” Blade shouted over the noise, and the chaos was suddenly tamed.

“Who are you?!” One prisoner asked, a heavy man with crusty hair.

“Blade.”

Blade took out the keys that he had snatched from the first guard he had encountered inside. It jingled, and the noise was resurrected. “Too much noise! Order!” Blade demanded, and the noise settled again.

“One question, Blade!”

“No questions!” the man snapped, briskly walking down the aisle, walking with a torch that was stationed at the door, glancing across at each cell for the familiar-faced Icemaker. After searching though many cells, he started to encounter vacant cubicles. As he progressed, the cells looked worse and worse, and the flames flickered more and more nervously. It seemed these cells were reserved for the worst of criminals. Soon enough, Blade reached the last pair of cells. In the left cell, he saw a boy in chains; he was on his knees, and his eyes were closed. He appeared lifeless.

“Lex!” Blade called, “Lex!” The boy opened his eyes suddenly, almost abruptly enough to frighten Blade. They flashed black for an immeasurably short while. Blade looked at the boy’s pale, sunken eyes. The confused, weary boy looked at Blade, struggling to stay awake. Blade started jamming keys from the packed bunch into the locks. The prisoners began to make even more noise than before. The fifth key did the job, and Blade went into the cell. In a hurry, he used the same key to unchain Lex. The next second, he untied the tight ropes. Lex just sat and stared at Blade hazily.

The swordsman glanced far up the corridor, seeing a solder rising and slowly making his way toward the door. Blade stood up quickly and hurled the bunch of keys over the length of the aisle with tremendous force. The keys blasted the solder in the back of his head and he fell. In a few seconds, Blade was helping the same man to his feet. He grabbed the man’s collar. “No-one leaves until we’re all free!” Blade said. The prisoners roared in agreement. Blade locked the door and hurried back down to where Lex was. They boy hadn’t even the strength or awareness to crawl out of the cell.

“What… are you doing?” he finally asked faintly.

“Building a makeshift army.” Blade grabbed the boy and flung him over his shoulder.

“Who are you?”

“Blade.”

The swordmaster threw the bunch of keys into the cell closest to him from where he was. “Hurry! Pull and pass!” Blade commanded. In a brawl, with surprising speed, the prisoners found their keys and freed themselves, passing the bunch of keys along. Blade was already at the door, the fallen guard still at his feet. Prisoners still bound made the most noise, hurrying the others to send up the keys. Men jumped out of cells with vigour and flexed their muscles.

“Blade the hero!” one man shouted, and a chorus of praise followed. Blade glanced around at the criminals with combing, narrowed eyes.

Hope these bastards don’t make it too far out. He recognized some of them, and knew that all in all, they were some of the worst criminals in the entire Magmalian prison. “Can you walk?” Blade asked, putting Lex down. He crouched to his hands limply like his feet had no life in them.

“I’ll try,” the boy said, struggling to stand.

“Hm. This won’t do,” Blade said, not sounding worried or very concerned though, “in any case, I should need the use of my hands.” He crouched down. “Get on… Hurry.” Lex jumped on Blade’s back without further hesitation.

“Why?” the confused boy asked, “Why go to such lengths to save me?” Blade stood and wordlessly waited for all the prisoners to be freed.

“Save your strength, kid,” he answered. “We move out as one!” he commanded, then unlocked the door and kicked it open. As expected, a company of soldiers had surrounded the compound. Blade’s men were hidden in the shadows, waiting for their leader to appear. In the noisy chaos, Blade and the men he came with fled the premises quickly. The confused soldiers fought the escaping prisoners, detaining most of them. Blade and his followers moved quickly though the darkness, Kyle’s hideout already in sight.

The men in black cloaks stopped suddenly, realizing they were surrounded by tens of armed men. “You’re not going anywhere!” one of the soldiers declared; he was dressed differently from the others— and even they weren’t dressed like the ordinary soldiers either— they wore full blue suits, and carried black and red scabbards with the Magmalian emblem on them, blue handles jutting out from them. Blade looked around quickly, counting the men, assessing them quickly.

These men…

“This is Under-supreme General Marco, leader of the Magmalian Army!” the man introduced, sounding like he was the king himself. “A prison break?! This is unacceptable, and punishable by death! Whoever you people are, you’re well-trained, but my team of special operatives does not know the meaning of defeat. We will crush you criminals like the insects you are!” A look of disgust and fierce arrogance reddened the man’s eyes. He was in a full-black suit, and carried a black sheath with the red insignia of his army.

Blade put Lex down, and the circle of cloaked swordsmen surrounded him, facing the special ops and their infamous leader. “The pile of rocks… Kyle awaits you there. Make a run as soon as you see an opening, then return to the hideout with him. As if coordinated, the swordsmen drew their swords together. The two circles of men clashed suddenly, and Lex took a sprint toward the pile without looking back, an enemy sword nearly grazing him.

“Jason! Get the boy!” Commander Marco belted, and one of the soldiers gave chase. Lex, weakened by hunger and aches everywhere, with half the chaser’s speed, struggled toward the checkpoint. Even from the darkness, he saw Kyle’s eyes, and he somehow knew he would be alright. Kyle ran around the rocks and attacked the frightened soldier suddenly. Special Operative Jason Pertroski, and former captain didn’t see his death coming. Kyle rammed his sword into the man’s side. As blood gushed from the middle-aged man, he stumbled and fell, Kyle’s sword still deep inside him. He wouldn’t have wished to live to see the boy who killed him after he had taken down some of Magma Town’s most wretched criminals. Kyle ran up to the floored man, not feeling the same heaviness he felt when he had killed the royal guard. He pulled his sword from the body. Lex ran up to him quickly and hugged him tightly, panting, grabbing the back of his head as his muscles weakened.

“Oh God… Kyle…” Hearing swords clashing just yards away, Kyle grabbed Lex and quickly ran with him in the direction of the hideout.

Kent’s bellow of pain screeched through the cold night as one of Marco’s men drew his sword from his chest. Blade took a quick glance in his direction, his teeth tightly clenched and eyes wide. Blood gushed from his friend’s chest with no end. Blade watched, with no time to mourn, as his friend fell with a hole in his chest that the greatest sorcerer alive couldn’t heal. He turned his attention back to his own duel that same second, defending against another of Marco’s powerful attacks. By now, there were five distinct duels that didn’t disrupt each other, and no clear winner could be seen in any of them. Marco sent another heavy, downward swing at Blade. Quick reflexes allowed it to be dodged. Blade had noticed, from Marco’s very first strike, that his opponent was physically stronger than him, just slightly, but enough to be taken into consideration. His blows were some of the heaviest he’d ever encountered, and each of his attacks were accompanied by dead-on accuracy and sharp movement. Blade took another swing at Marco, using more effort than he was accustomed to. Marco blocked the never-failing strike and delivered a quick and forceful kick, sending Blade around seven meters away; he landed skilfully on his feet and skated back for another half meter, but his sword not in its rightful place. With impressive speed, Marco ran toward Blade and delivered a flying kick, sending him on his back, skating on the hard ground. He then rushed on to the fallen Blade and dived down at him, his sword held by both hands. Blade rolled out of the way of the deadly attack. Marco recovered quickly, standing, sword in hand. Blade took the opportunity and recovered his sword, facing the under-supreme general and the strongest fighter of the most feared army on the continent.

So he managed to land two attacks of that calibre in such quick succession, Blade thought, his face not showing any worry or uncertainty. Cost me some dirt on my coat, but his fighting technique is fully analyzed. I’ll end this quickly.

He recovered that quickly? Marco thought, impressed. “You fight like a Zakatian,” Marco said, a slight smirk on his face, “and you seem a bit too experienced for a boy your age… You must be Blade of the Land of the Sword… prodigy of Zakashi Village.” Even a man like Marco sounded honoured to fight Blade, but there was no sound of fear or uncertainty, only interest and excitement.

With that, the army man charged at Blade again. With a sidestep, he evaded Marco’s attack, then he managed to trip him. With heavy force, Blade used his right foot to sweep Marco’s feet off the ground. Marco fell flat on his back, still not fretting about losing the fight. Moving to stand, Marco defended against Blade’s vicious swing. Marco’s eyes widen as his sword was knocked from his firm grip, landing meters behind him. He watched as Blade sneeringly cased his sword. “Insolent!” Marco blasted, rising quickly. Blade easily evaded Marco’s close combat attacks. His eyes glared in annoyance as he tried with all his strength to land even half a punch. Blade jumped back as Marco jumped at him, kicking at him several times in the air. Marco spun quickly, swinging at Blade with knives he withdrew the tiny moment his back was turned to Blade during the revolution. Blade’s blue-grey hair flashed in the dark, bouncing off moonlight as he skilfully dodged Marco’s strikes. “Keep still!” Marco’s teeth clenched tightly and his eyes bulged as he struck at Blade faster and faster, and less and less accurately.

“Your emotions are obscuring your judgement, General,” Blade said, like he was training the soldier. This further riled Marco, and his attacks became even easier to dodge.

“I’ll slice that cool look off your face!” he bantered, kicking and swinging at Blade, who seemed to be dodging each attack with less effort used to dodge the last. Blade sunk his hands down into his pockets, and there was a languid look of boredom on his face. Blade kicked away one of Marco’s daggers as he stabbed at him. With a loud cry, Marco gave his next strike all he had. Blade jumped and spun in the air, kicking the other blade from the soldier’s hand. Marco stepped toward Blade with a fast and slightly more accurate than expected punch, not accurate enough nevertheless. In one quick movement, so sudden and unseen it baffled the soldier, Blade slithered behind Marco and held his glistening blade a few millimetres from his neck. What?!

Blade held Marco in the hostage position for a moment long enough for the soldier’s mind to process his new reality. “Make them surrender,” Blade told him calmly.

“You will not get away with this,” Marco said, a red anger and shame in his tone. Blade pulled the cold blade toward Marco’s neck, that he could feel the chill, the breath of death. “Battalion Zero! Floor your weapons!” his command rang out. The puzzled men seized fighting and drew back in defensive positions. The eight swordsmen that made the four duels instantly realized the situation.

“Took you damn long enough,” one of Blade’s men muttered under his breath. What was left of Battalion Zero was stupefied by what they saw. Blade looked down at his dead teammate with cold eyes.

“Blade, take his head off! We’ll handle the rest of them! They killed Kent!”

“Enough blood has been shed by our blades for one night,” Blade said calmly. “Get them to surrender,” he told Marco, sounding annoyed of having to repeat.

“I said floor your weapons, dimwits!” the man belted. The soldiers released their swords to fall on the ground.

“Now make them leave.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.”

“And why the hell should I trust you?”

“… You shouldn’t.” Blade pulled his sword back slightly. Marco didn’t even feel the slight slice; he just felt his blood running down to his chest. He shivered mildly.

“Battalion Zero, head back to the base!” he commanded.

“Commander—”

“That’s a goddamn order, dammit!” the man raged, no room for argument left by his tone of voice.

The soldiers turned and headed away from their leader’s dilemma. They were soon out of Blade’s sight, but Blade knew they were lurking close by. Blade moved his sword from Marco’s neck and pushed him off. Marco turned to face Blade, who made a swift an unavoidable strike at his face. The very tip of Blade’s sword ran down Marco’s right cheek. The army man grabbed on to his bleeding face, staring into Blade’s cold, apathetic, lazy eyes. “You’re getting old, General,” Blade said, “this scar will help you remember Blade, the Zakatian legend. You have a lot of cleaning up to do; you should leave my sight as quickly as your feet can take you.” Marco’s eyes were sunken in dishonour and disgrace. He could find no words. He turned from Blade, hoping he would deliver a fatal blow, but there was none to rescue him from his humiliating defeat. He slowly walked away, passing the bloodshot-eyed men in black cloaks who itched to kill him. He breathed heavily as he walked past the last one, and then hastened his steps.

Blade glanced down at Kent’s body again. The men were grim-faced and red inside. “I knew this was a bad idea,” Mizuki muttered, “Kent died, and for what?! Strangers!” the man raged, tears settling in his eyes. “What have you done, Blade?!” Mizuki rushed on to Blade with his sword thoughtlessly. Blade didn’t as much as fidget, and his dim expression remained. His eyes were cast down on the bloody ground. Henry and Shawn grabbed the raging man, whose eyes were redder than Kent’s blood. Turner silently stooped and wrapped Kent’s body, and took it out of the pool of already thickening blood slowly and reverently. Blade glanced quickly as he heard a low rustle in a nearby bush.

“I’m sorry…” Kyle sobbed, guilt flowing down his face in salty streams. One of the men hissed.

“Go back to your friends and celebrate Lex’s return,” Blade told Kyle.

“You might as well go with them,” the now much calmer Mizuki said in a cross and bitter tone, walking over to Turner to help him hold up Kent.

“Leave us,” Blade said to Kyle, glancing at him with a look that made Kyle leave without argument.

“I’m taking him home,” Mizuki said, and he and Turner walked past Blade with the body. Henry and Shawn looked at Blade for a moment more, then grimly walked past the unmoving man. Dark rainclouds covered the moon. The ground where Blade stood alone dampened a little more.