The Blessed

CHAPTER FOUR

Fear gave way to a lack of comprehension. A medieval castle made from obsidian stone loomed menacingly at the center of a large transparent dome that had material similar to that of the bridge. Within the confines of the castle were five large bronze statues, each raising a finger to the sky.

Next to the Castle was a triple-story brick-faced building. To the extreme left was a long and wide structure that looked like a hall. In the foggy distance behind the castle, was another large multi-story building. A fair distance to the right of that was a thick orchard. Just above the various types of fruit trees was steel-webbed dome with milky white glass.

On the other side of the glassy dome was infinite space, just like at the bridge.

The earth seemed haunted with spaced trees of varying sizes. The grass that flanked the cobblestone path that led to the castle was moldy green. The chilly air sent goosebumps up my exposed arms. Beneath my feet was a thick gray circular platform with an engraving identical to the symbol on the door.

The closer we got to the castle, the more its dimly lit windows looked like sunken eyes. I wanted to run away; everything was moving way too fast.

Grunts and shouts came from my left. On a large rectangular platform made from gray concrete, were five benches filled with spectators watching the battles before them. I realized that minus the coat and the hat, the people who seemed to be around my age had on plain cotton shirts, chains with small pendants, tan brown pants, and dark brown knee-length boots

To the extreme left was a woman and a man circling each other. The two had thick matte gray chains snaking around their forearms down to the concrete below. The chains dragged behind as they stared each other down. A few feet to their right, the fists of two men with thick golden bangles around their wrists collided and formed a visible shock wave that sent the loose gravel flying in all directions.

Further to the right. A tall skinny girl parried an attack from a shorter, stouter girl and knocked her off her feet. Their weapons looked exactly like Franny’s staff. Next to them, two large built men held out their right arms. Two man-sized swords with black blades and golden handles materialized in their hands.

Unlike the rest, to the extreme left of the platform, five people with bows in their hands faced a row of five black and white bullseye targets.

There was a large middle-aged man with a coat and a hat behind them.

“Ready!” he barked.

The five raised their bows,

“Aim!”

They pulled back on the bowstrings. Sparks crackled and flickered between the black wood and the taut string. Finally, arrow-shaped bolts of electricity formed in between.

“Fire!”

At the speed of light, four of the arrows hit different points on four of the targets. A stray bolt penetrated a tree trunk before dissipating into nothingness.

“What did I say about your shoulders Carol!”

“Sorry sir.”

“What’s sorry is your aim!”

The spectators on the bench chuckled. Carol looked down and tucked a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear.

“Again!”

“Hey!”

It was Amero.

“Stop messing around will ya?”

We were now approaching the entrance to the castle. It looked like the mouth of a predator. The small staircase a jagged tongue. The curved in oval outline baring two large sharp teeth that served as doors.

Amero pushed past the entrance doors.

“Now just be a good little boy and shut the hell up.”

It was warmer inside, but the gray walls of the foyer looked damp. Almost as if the foyer had been weeping about something and was poorly attempting to hide it.

Maybe it was also been rejected by the love of its life…

Seated at the desk behind the statue was an elderly woman with thick glasses. Her hair looked like a mess of spiderwebs tied into a bun. Her overripe skin clung loosely to a small skeleton.

“Agnes.”

The woman’s head bobbed.

She was asleep.

“Agnes.”

Amero and I shared a look.

“Agnes!” this time he punctuated her name by banging the half semi-circle-shaped desk.

The old woman nearly fell out of her seat. She looked at us, her eyes squinted and searching as if she was trying to solve a math problem.

“Is the big man in?”

She simply nodded before crossing her arms and returning to her nap.

“Come on.”

We arrived at a door to the right side of the room.

On it was a golden plate with the label, ‘DIRECTOR’.

Amero knocked lightly.

“Come in.”

The Director’s office was a large room that could only be described as neat. A thick burgundy carpet covered all corners of the floor. There was a chest of drawers which was placed at the extreme left of the room. On top of it was a silver tray with two small glass cups and a glass jar half full with what looked like milk.

Hanging above the chest drawers was a large portrait of five individuals, two women and three men. To the extreme right of the office was a large bookcase that covered the entire lower half of the wall and stretched from the front of the room to the frame of a large window behind the large black desk. The window itself was so large it nearly served as a fourth wall.

Through it, I caught sight of a peculiar tree. It had a thick trunk and red flecked leaves.

The man behind the desk had his face buried in a worn-out paperback. He flipped a page and placed a marker before giving us his attention.

“Deputy Amero.” he said.

His voice was of a smooth baritone quality.

“The mission was a dud. There wasn’t a Renchi in sight. But…” Amero nudged me forward,

“We did find this.”

I stood there, not quite sure what to do with myself as I became the object of the Director’s scrutiny.

“A Stray?”

“Yeap. Found him at the scene of the supposed Leak. We should probably get the surveillance system checked out ASAP. A bunch of the teams have been reporting duds recently.”

The Director arose from his chair.

“His name is David Pakati.” Said Amero.

He was a large and muscular man. Even in old age, I could tell that people must’ve avoided physical altercations with him at all costs. He strode over and stood in front of me. As he towered over me, saying nothing, I noticed there was something different about his attire.

His coat was neatly pressed. His cotton shirt was a lighter shade of white. His polished boots shone even in the dull light that permeated the atmosphere. I also noticed that his badge was purple, instead of gold or silver. His pendant had a symbol similar to Duke’s, a small sword.

“Hello son,” said the large man.

He offered me his hand and I shook it.

“My name is Ryan Frost”, he said, “I’m the Director of the Blessed Association.”