Chapter 15 - A Slave to Fate

The overhead lights shifted to a menacing crimson, signaling the building's lockdown. With a deafening thud, all doors slammed shut. Argent, her task complete, moved stealthily from the mansion’s entrance to the next checkpoint at the River border.

The only escape route lay in the hands of Mr. Dawson, whose fingerprints were now a gruesome souvenir in Hound's possession—both hands severed and hidden away. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled the air, remnants of a desperate act to keep Daryl from bleeding out. In the center of the room stood the Dawson family, Emily among them, bound and gagged as if they awaited execution, their muffled whimpers slicing through the tense silence.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Erlin,” Hound’s voice reverberated through the dimly lit room. His guard mask lay discarded on the floor, revealing a morbid expression, one that seemed perpetually trapped between mirth and madness— the guard that followed him, pierced by his own sword.

“Have we met?” Erlin asked, keeping his voice steady, betraying no hint of fear.

“If I had a coin for every time you murdered me, I’d be a resident of River by now!” Hound’s laughter was unsettling.

“Care to elaborate?” Erlin responded, brow furrowing with confusion.

Hound ignored him, cutting to the heart of the matter. “My demands are simple: a dark attribute symbiote and a military rank relay core.”

“So, it is you we were expecting.” Erlin took a calculated step closer to Hound, his fearlessness juxtaposed against the welling dread inside him. “And if I refuse?”

“I’m not asking, Erlin,” Hound snapped, a glint of madness in his eyes. “You’re a commander; you understand the essence of sacrifice. Holding the Dawson family hostage won’t suffice. But your life—held in peril—now that’s leverage enough to shake the base.”

The weight of realization struck Erlin, causing his composure to falter for the first time.

(At the Border)

Argent gripped the two-way radio she had snatched from Erlin as she entered the mansion. She quickly reported Hound's demands, emphasizing the dire consequences should they refuse. The response was swift; soldiers were dispatched to survey the estate, a blockade set in motion while panic erupted among River’s citizens as they evacuated.

(At the Mansion)

“So, you’re holding me hostage?” Erlin balled his fists, defiance radiating from him. “I could easily overpower you and turn the tide.”

“My life isn’t enough to warrant a change in plans,” Hound retorted, a chilling chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m not holding you hostage; I’ve already killed you. You just don’t know it yet.”

“What kind of madness is this?” Erlin challenged, confusion bubbling beneath his anger.

Without warning, Hound lunged, his eyes shimmering with a disconcerting light, the tattoo of tears marking his allegiance shining brightly.

“A seer?” Erlin’s brows knitted together in disbelief.

He narrowly dodged Hound's blade, quickly unsheathing his sword to parry the next strike aimed at his torso, causing Hound to stagger back.

“I suppose you earned that commander title for a reason,” Hound quipped, smirking as he advanced once more.

(Package Escort)

As the heavily guarded transport ventured beyond the base's perimeter, elite seers emerged from the shadows, each strike deliberate and lethal. They swiftly overpowered the soldiers, leaving those who survived to face a grim fate—executed in cold blood. In mere moments, they secured their package and disappeared into the darkness.

(At the Mansion)

Erlin fought with all his might, his movements precise and efficient. His strength lay not in sorcery but in sheer skill. Yet, without his gear, his physical prowess was insufficient against someone who had studied him through countless realities. Each of Erlin’s movements, every dodge and counter, was etched into Hound’s memory, leading to a prophecy of defeat.

As Erlin dropped his guard for a fraction of a second, Hound seized the opportunity. Summoning immense black flames and silver smoke, he launched an uppercut that sent Erlin’s head flying from his body, leaving only a smoldering skull attached to a burning spine.

The lockdown prevented the soldiers outside from grasping the chaos unfolding within. Hound approached a wardrobe, retrieving the severed hands, now soaked in blood, and made his way toward a hidden passage, a path he had seen in his visions.

Emily, straining against her restraints, managed to wriggle the gag from her mouth. “You mentioned visiting my home first. Are my parents safe?”

Hound paused, a shadow of amusement crossing his features despite his pain. “I assured them I was a friend. They cooperated in sharing your location. So yes, I let them live. I’m not a monster…”

A breath of relief escaped her lips, but the weight of the situation loomed larger than ever.