Heir Of Chaos

Dale’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he tried to move, immediately regretting it as a wave of pain rushed through him.

Every muscle in his body hurt beyond measure. But at least, if he didn’t move, the pain was considerably better.

’What happened?’ The last thing he remembered was...

’The assassins!’ All forms of exhaustion immediately left him, jolting him fully awake. He adjusted despite the pain and took in his surroundings.

If he could still feel pain then he wasn’t dead... or he was in Hell. That certainly wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

Dale looked up and took note of the rough, earthen roof of the room he was in — if it could be called a room.

There was only one door that served as the entrance and exit to the place.

He forced himself to sit up, and a slight tug on his arms was felt.

Dale looked down at his wrists and sucked his teeth. "How dastardly." His wrists were tied together.

To him, it was an unnecessary precaution. With how much his body hurt and a lack of information regarding his environment, it would be beyond foolish to attempt an escape.

Who knew? Perhaps in the chaos, someone would claim his life ’accidentally’ or otherwise.

He leaned against the wall, placing his head on it. ’Who knows how long I’ve been out?’ Dale glanced at his leg where the blade had cut him.

The nature of the injury would give him some idea of how much time had passed.

The area around the cut was sort of purplish — undoubtedly an aftereffect of the poison used on him.

Either way, it was useless trying to use the contaminated injury to check for the passage of time.

It didn’t take long for him to retreat to the crevices of his mind. "Who is she?" He was talking, naturally, about Sera.

The might she had shown against the worms was far beyond anything an Awakened was capable of.

Clearly, she was Ascended.

Dale groaned and mumbled to himself. Of course, he had to somehow get involved with an assassin group with an Ascended leader.

He still vividly remembered the Centipede and was in no hurry to get down and dirty with someone of that rank.

’Wings, a bow, arrows? Seems like something out of myth.’ Then it hit him. Sera was short for seraphim... as in the angel.

Dale rolled his eyes. ’How shallow.’

The assassin who could turn incorporeal was called Ghost, the one with poison was Toxin and the one with strength was Block. It seemed the only thing worse than fighting them was their creativity when it came to names.

He turned his eyes to the constraints binding his hands. It seemed to be made of leather, nothing technological that he could affect with his ability skill.

There didn’t seem to be any way to gain an advantage.

His mind eventually drifted to Ghost who he had killed. While he had aided certain deaths back when he was in the slums, doing it himself was completely different.

It wasn’t that he was completely overcome with guilt — he wasn’t, it was to survive after all — but it felt a little unreal in hindsight.

Dale didn’t know how much time had passed before the door opened. When it did, he put on the most pitiful face he was able to muster.

It wasn’t too hard because his situation was actually quite pitiful.

A lady stepped into the room and his expression immediately turned sour. "Oh, it’s you." He spat.

Toxin was finally without her mask and Dale could see her face. Her black hair had green and purple streaks while her ebony skin seemed flawless.

By all means, she was a beauty but to Dale, she was just another person stopping him from reaching freedom.

The main reason he had recognized her was because of her stature.

As for the reason behind his brash response, it was simple. The fact that he was still alive proved that he still had value.

And if there was one thing Dale prided himself on, it was milking out situations until he had enough to make cheese for a nation.

Toxin scoffed, "I’m not exactly happy to see that you’re still alive." Her response was rude but at least it was honest.

She stayed quiet, just staring at his face.

Dale shifted slightly, "What? Why are you staring at me? Haven’t you seen someone good-looking before? Or better yet, you want to memorize my face, don’t you?"

She ignored him so he continued. "Take a picture, it’ll last longer. Not that I mind you staring. In fact, memorize every inch of my face so you can tell the devil who killed you when I send you to hell!"

Toxin rolled her eyes and grabbed Dale’s binds. She dragged him to his feet before pulling him out of the room.

The room led into a large corridor that spread out like a spider web in all directions. As they walked, they made several sharp, confusing turns.

Dale tried to memorize the path but it proved to be impossible. Not that he planned on escaping but either way, it was a bummer that he was none the wiser.

Soon, they arrived at a door.

"Is this where you’ll offer me to your deity?" Dale spat out. He was trying above all things to incite a reaction from her apart from stoicism.

It was unnerving to be the only one clearly showing emotions.

She opened the door and pushed him in. On the other side, Block and Sera were seated around a round table with four seats.

Toxin dragged Dale and forced him to sit on the fourth one — strategically opposite Sera’s and shorter than the rest.

Dale tutted. "I would be flattered if it weren’t for the wall of muscle over there. Sorry to disappoint but I’m not into bondage." He spoke briskly.

Sera ignored his statement and spoke. "Before I begin, what is your name?"

He was curious what she wanted to say to him yet he couldn’t be too eager.

So naturally, he gritted his teeth and muttered with the most deadpan expression. "Ream." He was sure the recruit wouldn’t mind him borrowing his name.

Sera nodded, "So we can assume that your name could be every other name on Earth aside from Ream."

"Then what was the point of asking me?" Had he known, he would have said his actual name. That way, they would have been misled.

Sera’s eyes seemed to become colder as she leaned forward. "I think we should talk."