Chapter 171: The Crimson Tide [12]
The woman looked at Alaric’s form. Bleeding, barely conscious on the ground.
"Finish him," she said coldly.
One of the hooded figures adjusted his grip on his blade. Nodded.
But just as he turned to move—
A voice cut through the forest.
"Die, wermling."
CRACKLE!
A bolt of red lightning erupted and struck the hooded man’s head.
BOOM!
His skull exploded.
Gore and bone fragments scattered.
The headless body stood for a moment—twitching, swaying—before collapsing forward into the dirt with a heavy thud.
Blood pooled from where the head had been once.
Alaric stood at his place.
Sweat soaked through his clothes, plastering fabric to his skin. His chest heaved with each ragged breath. Blood still ran from his wounds.
But his eyes.
They were literally burning crimson. Bright enough to cast red light on the ground around him. And his pupils were gone vertical slits.
The remaining three figures froze.
One of them took an involuntary step backward. His weapon hand trembled.
"What the fuck—" he breathed.
The woman stared.
Her professional mask slipped as shock bled through her for just a heartbeat before she forced it back under control.
"What is this?" she muttered. Her knuckles went white around her dagger as she tightened grip.
"Was that..." One of the men beside her spoke, voice shaking. "Was that red lightning?"
The woman’s eyes narrowed. Her mind raced, trying to process what she’d just witnessed.
Red lightning.
Not blue or white like typical essence manifestation.
But Red.
That shouldn’t exist. Couldn’t exist.
How is this even possible?
Alaric’s head tilted slightly.
The woman made her decision in a split second.
"Surround him." She commanded. "He’s still injured. We take him down."
The other remaining men hesitated.
"Now!" she snapped.
They moved.
Years of training overriding their fear. Spreading out to flank him. Weapons ready. But their movements were cautious. Wary.
The woman circled to his right. Her wire coiled in her off-hand, ready to strike.
Alaric didn’t move. Just stood there. Breathing. Watching them with those inhuman eyes.
Waiting.
The woman struck first. Her wire shot out, aiming to wrap his legs—
But his hand came up. Faster than he should have been able to move with his injuries.
He grabbed the wire with his bare hands. It bit into his palm, drawing blood.
Then...
Crackle!
Red lightning crackled up the length of the wire toward her.
The woman’s eyes went wide. She released it immediately, throwing herself backward.
The wire fell to the ground, still sparking with residual energy.
One of the men charged from behind. Blade raised high.
Alaric spun. His hand shot out. Caught the man by the throat.
Red light flared.
And the man’s scream cut off instantly.
His body convulsed. Smoke rose from where Alaric’s fingers touched his skin.
When Alaric released him, he dropped like a puppet with cut strings. Twitching. Eyes rolled back. Still alive but incapacitated.
The last man and the woman backed away. Their formation broken. Their confidence shattered.
"What are you?" the woman breathed. Not a taunt. A genuine question asked with dawning horror.
Alaric’s head tilted again. When he spoke, his voice carried a cold, distant tone.
"Hungry."
"Hungry?" The woman repeated. Her eyes were still wide, pupils dilated.
The man beside her screamed.
"Aaaah!"
He turned and ran. Crashing through underbrush, not caring about direction, just away from whatever Alaric had become.
Though he just made it maybe ten feet away when Alaric materialized in front of him. Not ran.
Just... appeared. Like the space between them had folded.
CRACKLE!
THUNK!
His hand, wreathed in red lightning, fingers rigid like claws, punched straight through the man’s chest.
Crack!
Ribs cracked. Flesh parted. The sound was wet and horrible.
The man’s scream died in his throat. Blood bubbled from his lips.
Alaric lifted him off the ground one-handed. The man’s feet kicked weakly. Then went still.
He tossed the body aside like garbage. It hit a tree trunk and crumpled to the earth.
Alaric brought his bloodied hand up to his face.
Sniff!
His nose wrinkled. Expression twisting into disgust.
"Filthy worm."
He shook his hand sharply. Blood sprayed off his fingers, splattering across dead leaves and tree bark.
Then he turned. Slowly. Deliberately.
His glowing crimson eyes locked onto the woman.
She stood frozen.
The last one. Her professional composure had completely shattered now. Raw survival instinct took over.
She moved.
Fast. Desperate. Closed the distance in three quick steps, dagger aimed for his throat. The killing blow. End it before—
CRACKLE!
The ground where she was about to step erupted with red lightning. Electricity arcing across the dirt, turning it black.
She jerked back mid-stride. Lost her balance, but caught herself at the last second.
Her breathing came hard now. Ragged.
"We shouldn’t have followed him here," she hissed. Realizing too late what a mistake they’d made.
She adjusted her grip on the dagger. Backed up two steps. Her free hand dipped into her pocket.
Then she moved again. This time feinting left.
Her hand came out of her pocket. Three small spheres flew toward Alaric in quick succession.
Alaric’s hand shot up. Caught one mid-flight.
Then, suddenly...
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The explosions detonated in rapid succession. Smoke billowed outward, thick and choking, obscuring everything.
The woman didn’t hesitate. Her arm came back. She hurled the dagger.
Which flew through the smoke. Aimed where Alaric had been standing.
THUNK!
"Argh!"
A groan escaped Alaric’s lips as he staggered backward.
His hand went to his sternum where the dagger was buried. Blood spreading dark across his already-soaked shirt.
His fingers wrapped around the hilt. He yanked it free with a sharp jerk.
The blade came free with a wet, sucking sound. More blood followed, running hot down his chest.
He looked at the dagger for a moment. Then tossed it aside. It clattered against a rock and lay there, gleaming red in the moonlight.
Then the blood flow... stopped. Not completely, but slowing to a sluggish seep.
The edges of the torn flesh already beginning to knit back together slowly.
The woman saw it. Her face went pale.
Alaric’s head tilted. Those slitted pupils focusing on her.
He took a step forward. Then another. Each movement deliberate.
The woman scrambled backward. Her hand went to her belt, searching for another weapon. But. Nothing left.
"Wait—" she started. Trying to buy time. Trying to think. "We can—"
But Alaric moved.
Fast. Too fast for her to react.
His hand shot out and closed around her throat. Lifted her off the ground like she weighed nothing.
Then he turned and slammed her back into a tree trunk.
CRACK!
The impact drove the air from her lungs. Her ribs broke. Pain exploded through her chest.