A few twists and turns, that's all it took before we'd reached what looked to be a total gift basket!
We came across a deserted street, with the only activity being from a boisterous shop…as well as the few guards who'd remained outside.
Beyond its planked walls and a singular bay window, one could see numerous soldiers dressed in steel, all enjoying a feast fit for a celebration.
Reading the swaying, decayed wood sign that swiveled above the door, I discerned the words: "The Flametail" paired with an etching of clinking glasses surrounded by a fiery swirl.
"Fucking booze…" I growled in a low whisper and ground my teeth.
I've always hated alcohol. Throughout my life, it's been a recurring antagonist of mine, a foe that I had to confront on a daily basis.
It wasn't just me, either. My mother and brother, too, both suffered at its hands through verbal abuse, cigarette burns, and beatings. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for a member of the Takagi family to make a friendly visit to the hospital. From morning to night, I was always haunted by the filth of that garbage.
The memory of my past set fire to my blood, broiling my insides. My eyes had frozen in an evil glare as I fixated on the obnoxiously drunken soldiers. I had wanted nothing more than to catapult myself inside and beat every person there senseless.
In spite of my anger, I knew I shouldn't blame them for it; but common sense was a luxury my anger rarely afforded. The sight of drunks reminded me about the mother I'd left behind...and the person I left her with.
I gritted my teeth and buried my emotions deep within my soul, restricting my thoughts to only thinking about how we'd steal the carriage before us.
The prize stood alone within a shifting mist that hung low to the slightly moist street, except for two mares and three guards. Looking past the guards, I saw the horses were connected with a thick, tied rope and secured to the front of what would be our getaway transport.
The horses, a pure black stallion and a spotted tan saddler, might've been even sturdier than the carriage itself. Beneath every layer of skin, they hid flesh so toned that even the most muscular bodybuilders would suffer in jealousy. You couldn't even call them living beings anymore; rather, they were fleshy tanks on hooves.
I imagined what it'd be like getting caught underneath such beasts, to be subjected to their hooves and full mass as they trampled over me. What came to my mind was how they'd crush and squish my insides with absolute ease. They were capable of totally flattening my body into a mass of ground up bone and shredded muscles.
Though such a gory image should've intimidated me, I could only smile confidently. After all, we wouldn't be the ones worrying about being trampled.
We crept closer and crouched behind a stack of sealed, bulky, beige brown wood boxes. Peering between the cracks, I noticed more details about the guards outside.
For starters, they appeared utterly drunk. Beyond the unintelligible muttering, giggly hiccups, and flushed faces, the only explanation was that they'd been under the influence, the same as the men inside.
I clenched my fist on the crate, disfiguring the wood and nearly injecting splinters into my hand. Following my grip, my face tightened as I ground my teeth together to calm my endless seething rage. My anger grew exponentially as I tried to tame my fury; repressing it only seemed to make it worse. My desires to shatter the skulls of the drunkards in front of me were stronger than ever.
'C'mon, you idiot! Now isn't the time.' I insulted myself, trying to stem my oozing hatred.
Shocking me from my inner conflict, I felt a warm sensation pressed against my shoulder.
"Hey, "Ayame whispered, "calm down. If we're going to do this, we need to do it quietly."
"I know!" I growled under my breath. "I know..."
Still tripping over one another, the guards halted their movements by supporting themselves on the wagon. Out of the 3 that were there, only one still grasped their weapon, a bulky gray longsword.
Oddly, I noticed that their armor hadn't matched those who'd been inside. It more closely resembled the rousing captain we'd seen at the gate. It was almost funny how different these three were from their supposed leader.
While the captain emitted a charisma and intimidation fit for royalty, something you'd expect from a so-called 'demon,' the three standing before me were reminiscent of nothing more than insignificant bugs.
"What now?" Kamida whispered.
Stopping, I asked myself the same question. Did we ever actually make a plan? Sure, we agreed to follow them, but in all that time, we never really took the time to discuss anything in depth.
Turning my gaze to Ayame, she answered my confusion with a nod.
"What?" I grumbled.
She nodded again, this time more fiercely, jerking her eyes toward the carriage.
ραпdα Йᴏνê|(сòm) "What?!"
Her face twitched with irritation. Then, she silently mouthed an order to me, emphasizing each word as she went. "Go. Over. There. And. Knock. Them. Out...OKAY?!" She finished with a wide-eyed glare, revealing all of the whites within.
Usually, I'd be tempted to disobey when given an order, especially in such a belittling way.
However, I guess this was her way of acknowledging my greatness, so I forgave her. Out of everyone in our group, I was the strongest, barring Sato.
"Heh, if you insist," I smirked, ready to finally get a chance at some action.
I lowered Sato to the ground and rested his head against one of the crates. "He's your burden again for a bit, Agawa."
"Just don't get too beat up by some drunkards!" She whispered in retort.
On the warpath, I glanced at my waist to see the leather holster wrapped around it. Wondering to myself, I asked, 'Should I finally use the sword I'd picked up?'
Thinking back about all of the blood, I decided against it. Though it was justified... Though I was a punk... I didn't want murder to be something I'd become accustomed to. At least, that's what I'd strive for so long as I could help it.
Pulling my hands to view, I smirked. "Yup, these are my favorite, after all." I balled them up into a veiny fist, constricting the muscles to the point of complete spasms.
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