Chương 67: The First Ally?

Lloyd rubbed his stomach, staring down at it with a mournful look, and once again it let out that treacherous, growling sound, echoing through the tense silence of the clearing as though mocking the gravity of the whole situation. The clearing around him still held onto its oppressive quiet — no birdsong, no buzz of insects, only the faint rustle of leaves in the weak breeze and the heavy, lingering smell of smoke still hanging in the air like a thick, almost tangible cloud, clinging to his skin and clothes.

He looked around, scanning the dark gaps between the trees, trying to catch even the slightest hint of movement. Every shadow behind the trunks seemed suspicious, every rustle made his whole body tense, ready to block a blow at any second. The sunlight filtering through the leaves now seemed somehow dull, as if even nature itself couldn't dispel the gloom hanging over this place.

"The longer I stay here, the greater the danger. I think the sooner I leave this place, the better." Taking a step forward, Lloyd carefully stepped over one of the bodies, trying not to linger too long on the charred remains, though his gaze kept drifting back to them anyway, as if pulled by some grim curiosity.

A light, barely perceptible breeze brushed against his neck, carrying a strange, almost floral scent — utterly out of place amid this mix of smoke and blood — and out of the corner of his eye he suddenly noticed a figure standing right in front of him, as if it had appeared out of nowhere, without a sound, without any warning, without so much as a rustle of grass underfoot.

He immediately jumped back from it, taking several more steps away, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, the sound thudding in his ears, but the figure didn't so much as twitch, remaining completely motionless, like a marble statue that had somehow ended up in the middle of this gruesome clearing. For a moment it felt as though the entire world had frozen along with that figure — no sound, no movement, just the frantic hammering of his own heart.

Veins bulged on Lloyd's face, his brows knitting into a tense line, his fingers digging painfully into the axe handle, leaving deep marks in his palm. — Who the hell are you?! The stranger continued standing there with the same expressionless, emotionless face, his long, vivid hair swaying in the light gusts of wind, shimmering in shades of green like living foliage, while his sky-blue eyes stared straight ahead with a cold, appraising calm that sent chills down Lloyd's spine.

The stranger's white garments, clearly expensive and far from ordinary, only deepened the impression that whatever stood before Lloyd didn't belong here at all, in this place of death and destruction — like untouched snow in the middle of a scorched wasteland. — You may call me Lorian.

The stranger remained just as motionless, showing no gesture of friendliness, yet no hostility either — only a steady, almost unsettling completeness of calm, as though all this carnage around them was nothing more than an ordinary part of the landscape he'd long since grown used to, not worth a single extra flicker of concern. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Lloyd tried to steady the traitorous trembling in his fingers, still gripping the axe tightly, feeling his palms grow damp with tension. — Lloyd. It seemed as though the stranger was momentarily surprised — a barely noticeable flicker crossed his eyes and vanished just as quickly, dissolving back into that same icy calm.

He swept his gaze across the clearing, lingering on the scattered bodies a moment longer than necessary, studying the nature of each wound with an almost professional attentiveness, then turned his eyes back to Lloyd. — You don't know who did this? Lloyd was confused at first, not quite grasping the question, glancing back and forth between the bodies and the stranger, but after surveying the charred remains once more, he finally understood, an unpleasant new chill running down his spine.

— They were already like this when I got here. The stranger let out a soft sigh, as though he'd expected exactly that answer, and in that brief exhale there was something like faint disappointment, as if he'd hoped for more useful information. But then Lloyd spoke up sharply, trying to mask the anxiety gripping him behind a forced firmness in his voice, even as everything inside him tightened with tension, his knees trembling traitorously. — What do you want?

The stranger gave Lloyd a long, appraising look, as if sizing him up from head to toe, weighing something invisible on invisible scales, his gaze lingering on the axe clutched in trembling hands before returning to his face, as though trying to read something important written between the lines. — I need allies. Want to join me? Lloyd's eyebrows shot up in genuine astonishment, his mouth falling open for a moment before he managed to compose himself and restore some semblance of calm to his expression.

"Allies? Someone like me? Something doesn't add up here, what is he even after." Thoughts raced through his mind, cycling through one possible explanation after another — a trap, some kind of test, something even more devious hidden behind that icy composure — but none of them felt convincing.

The stranger, noticing the confusion in Lloyd's eyes, seemed about to add something more, his mouth opening slightly as if to speak, but then he suddenly turned his head toward the dense underbrush, his hand darting to the hilt of his sword and gripping it with an almost silent speed that made the very air seem to freeze for an instant.

Lloyd tensed immediately, feeling a fresh wave of icy alertness roll down his spine, and in that same moment his ears caught a quiet rustling from the bushes — approaching, multiplying, clearly unrelated to any wind, more like the careful but numerous footsteps of dozens of people creeping in from every direction at once. He snapped his gaze toward the sound and saw a sight that promised nothing good.

All around the clearing, from the dense wall of trees, various Players began emerging, gripping every kind of weapon imaginable — from simple swords to bows with arrows already nocked, bowstrings drawn taut and ready to fire at a moment's notice — and all of them were slowly but steadily closing in on the clearing, surrounding it from every side in a tight, unrelenting ring.

Their faces were tense, eyes darting warily from one figure to the next, and some gripped their weapons so hard their knuckles had turned white, betraying a fear barely held in check alongside grim determination.

Lorian took a step forward, positioning himself slightly ahead of Lloyd, as if shielding him with his own body, and in that simple, almost casual movement there was such quiet confidence that a fresh chill ran down Lloyd's spine — not from fear of the approaching Players this time, but from the sudden realization of exactly who had just placed himself between him and danger, like the only barrier standing between life and death on this blood-soaked clearing.

— Well then, looks like you'll have to wait for my answer. We've got company.