Dance With Darkness And Light - Chapter 23 No Blood Lef

A young female maid knocked on the door; she told him that the meal was ready and that she would leave it in front of the door. Bazuul thanked her and retrieved the dish from outside. It wasn’t anything special, certainly not as fancy as the meals in the palace but good nonetheless. In front of him was a bowl of simple but flavourful noodle soup with tender meat and several vegetables.

Afterward, he meditated for a bit and upon finishing he realized that it was already about to be evening. He decided to go to bed and wake up early in order to explore the city further.

He drifted into the misty world of dreams immediately and started dreaming about her. It wasn’t her of old, not the one from Earth, but a version of her as a young woman about sixteen or seventeen years old. Before he could entirely witness her grace though, something interrupted him. A hazy, incomplete projection of Velamar appeared and shattered the dream he was indulging in. For some reason, Velamar seemed unstable, flickering in and out of existence as he said.

“Lost in the dreams, found in the darkest of streets. Trapped within a mountain of schemes, to muse or to haste, a choice made for eternity it seems.”

After that, Velamar vanished only leaving this cryptic message behind.

Suddenly a strong force, reminiscent of a tidal wave rolled over Bazuul and pulled him out of his dream world back to the room he rented at the inn.

Bazuul was perplexed, wondering what this…sort of riddle meant. Yet, he was unable to comprehend the meaning behind it. He couldn’t sleep anymore, and since it was only about to be ten pm, he decided to take a stroll in the city and have a look at the nightlife.

He left the inn and walked around aimlessly for a while, as a matter of fact, the metal poles were actually street lights, just as he had thought. What led him to believe that this kingdom of Donar, or at least its capital city, Leizyr, actually used electricity. Something he never thought he would see in this world. Before long he eventually found a plaza with little stands still opened. The square was filled with an abundance of different colored lights and gave him the feeling of being at a funfair a stark contrast of the dimly lit streets that depended on the occasional lightning strikes.

After passing all the stands, he entered a side street that seemed to contain more stands and shops still selling their articles. The way the stands and shops were positioned and the edged buildings formed by thunder reminded him a bit of Diagon Alley from Harry Potter. Actually giving him the feeling of something familiar, a comfortable feeling he had not felt for a while. He eventually entered a shop that focused on inscriptions in the hopes of maybe finding an arcane codex for his thunder attribute.

He spent about half an hour inside but ultimately, came out empty-handed. Slightly dispirited about that fact, he kept on strolling around this Diagon alley-esque side street. After a while, upon passing a dark side alley, his acute hearing made out the sound of metal clashing among other sounds. “A fight?” he thought.

Both intrigued and interested he entered this dark alley intending to have a look, and maybe even learn something about possible competitors already fighting. He looked around the corner and saw three, for what seemed to be men, clothed in black with masks on, surrounding a young woman he could only see the back of.

She was rather tall and slender, had straight, back long blonde hair, wore a white robe, and held a crescent-shaped scythe in her hands. For some reason, Bazuul had the feeling that he had seen her before, although he could only see her from behind.

The two men behind her attacked, and the one in front followed a second later. She lifted her scythe and swirled it at an incredible speed which made the edges of its form became blurred and jumped up. Again, the sound of metal clashing against one another could be heard; apparently, she dodged all three attacks. She even seemed to have slightly wounded one of the men at his shoulder, as a part of his black robes opened and revealed a cut in his flesh and a bit of blood flowing out.

“Surrender yourself to our master, witch!” One of the men yelled as the one beside him chuckled like a hyena, before attacking once again.

As she landed on her feet, she turned around to face the other two because they once again attacked, at this time she finally revealed herself to Bazuul. Although it was dark in this alley and he shouldn’t see much, he could see her clearly. At this moment the air inside his lungs left him, his heart seemed to have stopped beating, and his face became pale for a second. Then his heart started pounding again; the sound of his pounding heart seemed immeasurably deep and loud. He could hear it loud and clear, but also feel it throughout his body. It felt like it would make his head explode at any moment. Rage, so strong, unlike anything he felt before manifested inside of him and rose at an extremely fast rate.

He saw the one that had his shoulder wounded silently approach her from behind in order to initiate a sneak attack while she was preoccupied with the other two.

“Lost in the dreams, found in the darkest of streets, trapped within a mountain of schemes, to muse or to haste, a choice made for eternity it seems.” he suddenly thought, as he remembered the riddle which Velamar left him in his dream.

Like a vision in his head, his subconscious visualized how the man behind her attacked, and what they or their master would do if they succeeded in capturing her. That was the moment Bazuul snapped. He growled lightly like a wild beast, his muscles, his face, simply every muscle in his body, contracted in a seething rage. He pounced with a hellish scream that echoed throughout the alley and shook everyone’s innards as he vanished in the shadows.

All of them, also the pretty girl, was shaken to the core. She almost passed out but bit her tongue to stay awake; the other two had the same experience but managed to remain conscious by lightly stabbing their legs. The one initiating the sneak attack though, couldn’t help but throw up a mouthful of blood. All four seemed cautious. They could feel something ominous, something dark, looming in the shadows.

Drunken laughter echoed through the alley, making them feel as if they dropped into a bath of ice. Then a voice just as dark, surrounded them from all sides and roared. “Nobody touches her! NOBODY! HURTS! HER!!” After that, killing intent that could easily fill the space between heaven and earth rolled over them. Her body shook involuntarily at this since she never felt a killing intent as thick and ferocious as the one she was witnessing. It was so dense that it even became slightly hard for her to breathe. One of the men already fell to his knees and passed out shortly afterward.

Then a cutting sound was heard right after what felt like the cold sharpness of a sword manifesting behind her. The one that was still able to stand shrieked with a terrified expression. She turned around and found the sight of blood flying in the air. The man with the wound on his shoulder had been cut apart vertically into two halves. Behind him, crouched a barely visible figure with an expression, with a face, seemingly carved out of rage, in his hand, a black blade dipped in blood.

The figure stood up, and one would assume gravity would drag the flying blood onto the ground, but apparently, the suction force of the blade was stronger. It devoured all the blood in the air and within this dead man’s body before his emptied husk could land on the ground. After it was done the man as dry as a mummy, and the blade began to glow in a violet hue, as if in delight. Then the young man’s gaze fell upon the masked man that now stood behind her. The cloaked man could feel death’s cold grasp around his neck and by instinct turned around to run as he screamed.

“The shadow of the blade will hear of this!”