Chapter 41: Electric Reunion
Arthur’s head was turning toward the sound on a swivel, muscles tensing with each degree of rotation. The air felt heavy around him, pressing against his skin like an invisible weight as he struggled to locate the source of the disturbance. But before his gaze could reach whatever made the noise, his eyes widened dramatically, pupils dilating in shock at what unfolded before him.
As he was turning his head, barely one foot from his face, a silver spear surrounded by dancing tendrils of lightning flew past his eyes. The weapon cut through the air with terrifying precision, creating a subtle distortion in the atmosphere around it. The crackling energy that encased the spear cast fleeting shadows across Arthur’s face, illuminating his expression of pure astonishment for just a fraction of a second.
Momentarily distracted from whoever had thrown it, Arthur let his eyes trace the spear’s trajectory as it sailed through the air. The lightning arcing around the weapon seemed almost alive, pulsing and shifting with each microsecond of its flight. The air visibly warped around the projectile, creating ripples like those on a disturbed pond surface as it tore through space at a remarkable pace.
The silver weapon found its mark, striking the monk squarely in the chest. The impact created a sound that was somewhere between a thunderclap and the snapping of ancient bones. The monk’s skeletal body was launched backward with tremendous force, traveling almost thirty feet before crashing unceremoniously to the ground in a heap of bones and fabric.
Arthur stared at the fallen figure, his mind racing with disbelief. ’What the hell!? Is it dead?’ The question barely had time to form in his consciousness before receiving its answer.
No, it wasn’t. The skeletal monk lying on the ground stirred, its movements jerky yet deliberate. Bony fingers wrapped around the spear that was sticking through its torso, the smooth metal shaft looking alien against the yellowed bone. With a single, fluid motion it pulled the weapon free from its ribcage. Almost immediately after extraction, the spear destabilized, dissolving into a cloud of crackling electricity that dissipated into nothingness.
The monk, seemingly unhindered by what should have been a fatal wound, dragged itself back to its feet with mechanical precision. The empty eye sockets in its skull somehow managed to convey malevolence despite the absence of eyes, and its posture suggested renewed determination.
"Hey, quit standing around, we gotta go before that thing kills us." The voice came from behind, cutting through Arthur’s stunned observation.
Arthur snapped his head around so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. There, somehow only feet away from him now, stood a boy—one he recognized instantly. The newcomer was the same age as Arthur, actually a year older. He had no shirt on; it was tied behind his back, functioning as some sort of makeshift pack or carrying solution. His chiseled, muscular body spoke of years of physical training, while his confident, eccentric face was framed perfectly by his distinctive spiked blue hair.
Arthur momentarily forgot about his pain as pure shock took over his system. His jaw slackened, and he could barely form the word that escaped his lips: "A-AZIEL!?"