Last Born Of The Des Chapter 55: Burning anger

Chapter 55: Chapter 55: Burning anger

Chapter 55 – Burning anger

Cassius gritted his teeth as he dove out of the barrier, the motion followed by a spray of blood from his wounded, charred feet.

The stench of the Outskirts hit him like a physical wall the instant he was through, and he would never have believed he could be so glad to smell something so foul.

But there was no time for that.

The hole was still not fully sealed, and the fire risked escaping before it closed.

Having no intention of allowing that, Cassius performed one last act with his Bloodflame before his body reached the ground.

Mid-air, he twisted himself backward, watching the spray of his blood painting the air in front of him.

His First Skill activated, his mastery now standing at a height it had never reached before, the blood transformed into molten crimson fire droplets, each one vibrating wildly as if it wanted to detonate.

He contained them, then linked each blood-fire explosive droplet to the next — interlacing them like a man stitching space with thread — and built a large web of fire directly in front of the hole he had made to escape.

The desperate fire trying to claw out was momentarily caught in the web. And at that same moment, Cassius’s body hit the ground with a loud thud.

The breath was knocked clean from his lungs. His vision swam, breath shallow and ragged, too much poisoned smoke already burning inside his chest.

But there was no time to take a breath.

"We better run, lad." The old man said, landing on his back with the unconscious Océane on his chest, lips bleeding but grinning. "This whole building is going to explode soon enough with nowhere for that fire to go. We wouldn’t want to be close."

"Ah, well, why the hell not, old man?" Cassius groaned, spat a mouthful of blood to his left, his clothes reduced to scraps as he pushed himself onto his burned feet and immediately cursed hard at the mind-numbing pain. "Would have been quite a sight, don’t you think?"

"Not to someone who doesn’t wish to die."

"You’re already old and dying. Those are your own words." Cassius moved to the old man as he spoke.

He stood over him, his tired yet intensely bright red eyes pinning down the black ones of the man beneath him.

Without another word, he took Océane from the handless man’s chest, planted his staff-sheath against the ground, and pinned him lightly, "So you wouldn’t mind dying here, would you? I am actually helping cutting short your suffering. How merciful I am."

The old man smiled wryly, not having the strength to push back even if he wanted to. He was completely spent, his old body aching from every direction as if he had been beaten without pause for hours.

And his feet...ah, his feet were still sizzling.

’Ah. I am old now, aren’t I? This used to be nothing but a minor inconvenience.’

He shook his head at the mercilessness of time and looked past Cassius at the building slowly turning entirely crimson, about to explode.

And with the fire he unfortunately had the displeasure of tasting from the inside, the shockwave alone would be enough to send them both to greet Vorn personally.

That was a meeting none of them wished, certainly.

"Well, lad, I understand your concern, but we should run before it’s too late."

"Not before I know who you are." Cassius narrowed his eyes, internally tracking the state of the building’s coming detonation.

Not much time. As always.

[Cassius, trust me—!]

’I do, Queen. I do trust you. But I need my own reassurance right now. The moment I hit the ground I will lose consciousness, I am only standing on the last shred of my energy. Océane is out too. If he decides to act after, we are fucked. You are not omniscient. You cannot see what’s buried in the deepest corners of a person.’

[...]

Ananke fell silent, acknowledging the truth of her Blessed’s words. It didn’t ease her worry.

She sighed.

"Who am I, huh?" The old man muttered, lips trembling with exhaustion, as the building behind them went deep red, seconds from going.

He cursed internally. ’I have survived everything to this point. I cannot die here stupidly.’

Decision made with Vorn practically breathing on his neck, he parted his lips and spoke fast, words tumbling out in a wave:

"You don’t know me, lad! You don’t." He spat. "You no longer know us. But I was part of the Lightburner Squad under the direct leadership of Seraphim Hood, who is now known as the—"

"The Crown of the Revolutionary Army." Cassius finished, recognising the name instantly, eyes widening as understanding flooded in. "And also my aunt."

He cursed. The old man smiled crookedly.

"Ah, I damned well knew you looked familiar, b—!"

"That doesn’t explain why you’re here, old man! And speak fast!"

"Where else would I be?" He snorted. "Inside a Tier One City? The capital, even? You think I have any other choice after our failure to take the throne?"

"So you’re hiding."

"Lad, yes—"

[Cassius, for the love of everything, RUN!]

"—of course I am—!"

"No time!" Cassius made the call on Ananke’s shout and stored his weapon. He grabbed the old man and hauled him upright with no gentleness, making him grunt in pain.

"You should—!"

"Do you know this area?" He asked, as the old man swayed, fighting to stay on his feet.

"Well, yes—!"

"Then lead!" He pushed him forward, and the handless man knew better than to hesitate.

He clenched his teeth, swept his eyes across the deserted area and abandoned buildings, chose a direction, and kicked his aching feet into motion, running deeper into the shadows of the alleys at whatever speed he had left.

Cassius followed close behind, Océane cradled in his arms.

Not five seconds passed before a resounding explosion tore through the surrounding air, shaking the ground of the Outskirts like a full earthquake.

The shockwave erupted, fast and furious, and reached them within a heartbeat.

Neither resisted it. Each used the momentum of the shockwave against itself, adding it to their own speed, and rode it further into the dark — faster, but with fresh injuries for the trouble.

They finally escaped. Cassius followed the old man to whatever counted as a safe place.

As safe as the Outskirts of Desde City could possibly be, of course.

...

"You certainly took your time." Isolde hissed, wearing a black robe wrapped around her completely, sitting inside a carriage with Aissatou directly across from her.

From the outside the carriage looked entirely unremarkable — bland, with a driver wearing a permanent scowl on his ugly, sunburned face that made clear he was not being paid enough for any of this.

The horses were neighing and huffing furiously against the tight leash he had them on, making him snap and throw curse after curse at the poor beasts.

The inside was nothing like the outside. Luxurious, comfortable, built for long travel without an aching back at the end of it.

None of that did anything to soothe the restless knot tightening inside Isolde, though.

She was nervous. She was angry.

So she directed all of it at her old maid, whose eyes had begun darting around the carriage looking for somewhere — anywhere — else to land.

Tough luck. There was nothing else. And Isolde didn’t allow it.

"I asked you a question, Aissatou." She said again, leaning forward over the seat, legs crossed, eyes cold. "Why did you take so long to answer my call?"

"My Lady, I—!"

"No need to explain." She twisted her face. "I can already smell it. You reek of it, Aissatou. Your legs are shaking and your breathing is shallow and ragged even with your assassin training."

She tilted her head. "So. Who thought it worthwhile to satisfy the needs of an old lady? Leo the butler?"

Aissatou exhaled under her breath and gave up. There was no hiding from her master. "Yes, my Lady."

"Now, perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me — given all the Vorn-damned things happening today — but do tell me..." she cocked her head, amused. "Isn’t Leo married?"

"...He is, my Lady."

"So you’re his mistress." She said flatly. Aissatou flinched. "Aren’t you a little old for that sort of thing?"

"I am doing it for you, my Lady." Aissatou replied, managing a faint and unconvincing smile. "It could be useful to have something over the butler if you ever need it."

"So you’re telling me this is entirely impersonal."

"Entirely, my Lady."

"Then you wouldn’t mind at all if I were to mention this arrangement to Leo’s wife?" Isolde smiled without warmth. "I could earn her favour that way. She is more useful than Leo. She is my father’s personal maid, after all."

Her eyes glowed softly. "What do you think, Aissatou?"

Aissatou said nothing, watching her master with trembling eyes, fighting every instinct to react.

It was useless.

Isolde read her effortlessly, smiled coldly, let a dreadful plan settle quietly into place in her mind, then turned away and looked through the carriage window.

"I imagine you are exhausted after your hours of... dedication on my behalf. What a devoted maid you are, truly, Aissatou." She whispered. Aissatou’s eye twitched at the sarcasm. "Rest well before we arrive."

The old maid seized the escape immediately. "Where are we going, my Lady?"

"To meet an agent of the Third Fang." She pressed her lips together. "There has been an S-rank risk. Constantine told me to handle it."

Aissatou’s face went solemn instantly, her frame straightening. "S-rank?"

"S-rank." Isolde cursed quietly, dragging a hand over her face. "As for where exactly..."

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for whatever was ahead.

"...we are going to the Outskirts of Desde City."

—End of Chapter 55—