Chương 110: 23 - SAVIOR COMPLEX

Tyene Demue knelt over a bed of flowers. They were bright and colorful, filled with some of her mother's favorites. This particular one was covered in a vibrant sea of pink hydrangeas. They formed in little bulbs, forming balls of flower petals that looked no different than pink confetti. They were artificial, lined up in the illusion of a greenhouse that had seen better days. But it was a remote house out on a plain where no one would ever think to look for her.

Her mother's house, where she would go to get away from everything.

"Since when did you pick up smoking?" German stood behind, watching her take a drag of a cigarette, blowing the smoke into those pretty fake petals.

"At the same time I gained weight." She stood, turning to him.

"Does that make me unattractive to you now?"

"I didn't say that." She watched his eyes glower over her body with that expressionless, analyzing glare she was used to out of him. But she knew him well enough to know that her new form didn't give him comfort. Even if his eyes didn't show it. But even though he thought he could hide his thoughts, he couldn't hide the cracks in his skin, and the black smoke leaking out of him. He was overloaded. She shook her head, seeing that her smoking was making him uncomfortable.

It likely made the overload feel a little worse, so she put the cigarette out on the floor.

"This place was one of my mom's favorites," she said.

"I hate it here."

"We can go somewhere else," German said.

"No. Don't be stupid. I'm not going with you. You know, I had a good thing going until you showed up."

"It wasn't going to be a good thing for long. Corlander is likely there as we speak. He's going to level that city until he gets the Bestower loot. I had to come and get you before it was too late."

"Look at you." She caressed his cheek, feeling the warmth escaping it.

"So calculated except for where it counts. Is this your attempt to be my white knight? Overload yourself so that you can protect me…" German gently took her hand in his. But before he could get a word out, he dropped to a knee, the overload wearing him down. She could see the loot stamps on his neck, reacting to him, slightly glowing: tracking, hypersensitivity, telepathy, and the Wanderer. She sighed.

"Don't kill yourself for me. I'm not worth it." He strained to look up at her, still holding her hand.

"You are more than you know."

"That's all in the past. Let it stay in the past. I'm not that same person. You and I don't belong together." He stared at her before forcing himself to smile.

"Yeah… you have gained a little weight."

"Don't be a dick." She patted him on the head.

"Now, do me a favor and go get Vienna before you croak."

"Why? I thought you hated her."

"Vienna can fix you. And then I can continue what I was doing, knowing you didn't die because of me." German reluctantly nodded, but as he prepared to teleport away, she stopped him.

"And one more thing…"

"Repent! Repent!" The word repeated itself over and over again inside the chamber. The room was made of dark stone. Dozens of shelves leaned against the walls, filled with hundreds and hundreds of books from every era of mankind. But their words would pale in comparison to the one echoing across the room.

"Repent! Repent!" Each time it was said, it was accompanied by the crack of a whip tearing at skin. There was a room of men, dressed in dark robes, hiding their identities with black ceremonial masks. They were angular and plain because they were meant to be faceless. The largest man in the largest robes used his whip like a sacred cleanser, as if every time it cracked, it cleaned away the ugly parts of the soul. The man below him was kneeling down, bent over, hands squeezing two wooden poles on each side of him.

He was naked, best to see the red gashes that formed on his pale skin. And above him, the masked man continued to shout, "Repent! Repent!" The man contained his pain every time the whip hit, never shouting out. Never pleading for it to stop. This brought a strange sense of enjoyment to his torturer, who only used it to further fuel the strength of his whip. He deserved this. This was punishment for his crimes. He gathered up one final lick before the silver-haired man screamed out, "I repent!"

The room began to murmur, everyone congratulating themselves for a job well done. But the large man knew he wasn't finished. He reared his hand back to continue what he started. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

"My Bestower!" A man, not of the ritual, scurried down the stairs, coming into the room with a huff.

"What is it!?" The man with the whip snapped.

"We are in the middle of the cleansing." The intruder bowed.

"I'm sorry, but someone's come to see you."

"Is it Corlander? Is he here already?"

"No… It's a man and a woman. Dark-haired, slightly asian." The large man shook his head.

"Just other citizens. Remind them that this library is a sacred place and the Bestower only speaks to those whom he has invited to speak to him."

"Yes… but…"

"What is it now!?" The large man bucked as if he would strike him with his whip.

"I'm sorry. But one of them mentioned the name 'Redeemer.'" The large man suddenly stiffened, dropping his guard and his breath. He turned to the man on the floor.

"What should we do?" The silver-haired man suddenly stood from his heap on the floor. One of the masked men brought him a black silk robe. It wouldn't show the blood through it. He wrapped it around himself and sat down in one of the library's chairs. He was a middle-aged man with a slim build and a pointed chin. He was freckled all over his body, but despite the bloody gashes all over it, he sat confidently sipping on a glass of wine, completely unbothered by his pain.

"It's been a while since I've had a visit of that sort." He said in a lifted melodic voice.

"By all means, let them in."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Grace." Moments later, T'balt and Vienna were escorted down the stairs, seeing the spacious room filled with acolytes and books. There was blood scattered across the floor, with a few people hurrying to clean it up with plain towels.

"Ah. I've not seen either of you before. But by all means make yourselves comfortable." The man with the silver hair said. He got up to shake both of their hands.

"My name is Uriel Grace." When he shook T'balt's hand, a speck of his blood came off on him. He went to shake Vienna's hand, but she ignored it. She gestured to T'balt, clearly wanting him to do the talking.

"My name is T'balt, and this is Vienna," T'balt said.

"Ohh… is that Shakespeare? I'm a fan."

"Yeah. Listen." It wasn't the time for pleasantries.

"You're Uriel Grace, the one they call the Bestower?" Uriel smiled.

"You are… correct." T'balt couldn't stand that smile. He wanted to cut it off as soon as it showed up.

"Graceland is under attack right now, don't you know? Your people need you. They're up there dying while you've been… What have you been doing this whole time?" Uriel nodded his head, not in agreement but as if there was a miscalculation in his brain.

"My apologies. I thought this was something else." He removed his robe, revealing his nudity, and turned around, assuming his position back on the floor, holding the two wooden stakes.

"I am very busy, actually. This is the 32nd day of my penance. David, you may continue." The large man bowed.

"Yes, sir." He then whipped Uriel again and again.

"Repent!" he echoed. T'balt didn't know what to think. He had no idea what the hell was going on here. The robes, the whipping, repentance? But he did know that he was being ignored. The city was being ignored. And he kept thinking back to the church, when Acelin… Nrv attacked, and Monan couldn't be bothered to leave his room. The people were shouting his name because he pretended to be their savior, only to ignore them when they needed him.

"You made this city!?" he suddenly shouted.

"How can you not care about it being destroyed?! They're out there fighting a monster that's here to get to you. And they think you're going to save them."

"I'm not," Uriel said as he struggled between whips.

"And I never said I would. In fact, I sent messengers warning people of this very day. If they stayed, hnngg…"

"Repent!"

"That was their choice. It's our, hnngg…"

"Repent!"

"Our recompense. For the world to become whole again. Aghhh…"

"Repent!"

"Right. Give me a moment, David."

"Oh, sorry." The masked man stopped, clutching the whip on his side. Uriel put his hand up.

"You're fine. Now, where was I? Yes," he turned back to T'balt.

"All things I build are doomed to be destroyed in an endless cycle of joy and pain and pain and joy until I have paid fully for my crimes." He spoke with his hands together, like a priest would.

"So you're just going to let them die?" T'balt asked, staring. Uriel shrugged.

"It's not something you're going to understand unless you are deeply spiritual." He turned back around, assuming the submissive position. But as soon as he did, that's when she struck. Vienna sped behind him, hands illuminating the Loot thief's glow as she went for the back of Uriel's neck. She was so fast, powered by speed loot that T'balt's "Wait!" didn't have time to reach her. By the time he said it, she was already on top of him.

But to everyone's surprise, Uriel had covered the back of his neck with his hand, so when she went to extract his loot, it was almost like he held it in place. He reacted too quickly. He must've had his own reflex loot in there.

"Vienna, what are you doing!?" T'balt called. She didn't answer for all the masked men in the room, who had drawn their attention to her. They all went to attack her, but none of them had any loot. They came at her with bare fists and a whip. Vienna drew her knife.

"Don't!" T'balt shouted. He moved with his own speed loot, to stop the masked men from attacking. But Vienna's own speed, he couldn't stop. Like clockwork, she slashed through each one of them in a matter of seconds. There was nothing they could do, not even the big man whose life's finale ended with a knife to the top of his skull. There were about eight of them, all bleeding and dead on the floor.

"Vienna, we came here to ask for his help, not to kill him!"

"That's what you came here for!" She snapped.

"I came to take the Bestower loot to use it as a bargaining chip."

"You don't seriously plan on taking up Corlander's offer." They stared face-to-face. T'balt stood ready, not knowing if Vienna was going to start another fight with him. He had to stop himself to remember who she was and what her goal was. And she was still a Redeemer. Just then, Uriel stood up from the ground. He looked over all the bodies, poking some of them with his foot, checking if they were all really dead.

"You killed David," he said.

"And it didn't look like a very nice death." His tone was surprisingly calm for everything that had just happened. The silver-haired man pointed a finger.

"You have the Loot Thief. That one is quite powerful. Though it's a trick that's been used on me before… it didn't work then either. No, I'm sorry to say, the only way the Bestower loot is leaving my body is through my corpse." Vienna turned to him, preparing herself for a fight. T'balt hadn't decided what he would do, knowing that Uriel would have every right to come at them both.

"Listen," he said.

"Things have gotten out of hand. Let's just take a moment—""Oh no, don't misunderstand me," Uriel said, holding his hands up in peace.

"I'll gladly give it to Ms. Vienna here. Just… do me the favor of killing me first."