Holden sprinted out of the portal room, his footsteps echoing through the stone hallway. He moved so quickly that the burning torches blew out as he rushed past.
His worries grew by the second. The boy had been a bloody mess when Holden first encountered him. Assuming he was a suspicious entity, Holden had withheld providing first aid. However, the current circumstances required otherwise. He didn't know what the Overseer would do—the old bastard was as unpredictable as always—but he knew the boy must at least be in good condition, especially since Holden believed he was somehow important.
When he entered the cold room, he heard faint shouts coming from the cell room, which doubled as the beast tamer's office.
Wait a second, Holden realized. Where is Vorkas? He should be here... in the cold room!
The shouts grew louder and more frantic. Holden clenched his teeth as he sprinted toward the cell room, drawing his sword.
Don't tell me that idiot went after the kid! Holden raced down the corridor, sword ready. As he neared the beast tamer's office, the shouts became clearer—not sounds of combat, but Vorkas' agonized yells.
He skidded to a halt just before the entrance, the scene hitting him hard. The boy lay bleeding out on the ground in front of the arch that led to the cell room. Behind him, flickering torchlight revealed chaos. The iron bars of the cell had been destroyed, seemingly pulverized. Chunks of rock and iron scattered across the ground. From his angle, he could see the motionless rear end of Gnash. Was the beast wounded? Dead, perhaps?
The boy was unconscious, head lolling, deathly pale beneath the grime and blood. A dark pool spread rapidly on the stone floor beneath his right shoulder. Holden rushed forward, holstering his sword. Kneeling beside the boy, his eyes took in the damage. An angry red line tore across the boy's tunic at chest height—a non-lethal but painful-looking scrape from Gnash's horn or talons. But the shoulder wound was bad—a deep stab wound still pumping blood sluggishly.
From inside the cell room, Vorkas's voice cracked with heart-wrenching sorrow. "Gnash... no... stay with me... please..."
This kid... first the cyclops... now Gnash? He's certainly a dangerous one.
Holden's jaw clenched. Part of him, conditioned by years of working alongside the tamer and his beast, wanted to check and offer aid. But the image of the coffin kept appearing in his mind. Something was wrong here—a potentially explosive secret that could unravel everything, possibly including Holden himself.
If my assumptions are correct, his life is more valuable than anything else down here right now, Holden thought grimly. And potentially more valuable than my own if I let him die.
Ignoring the gut-wrenching sounds from the cell, Holden focused on the immediate problem. He pulled a small med kit from his belt pouch and worked quickly, tearing open packaged gauze and pressing it hard against the bleeding shoulder wound. Hillel didn't even flinch. His breathing was shallow and uneven. Losing too much blood... Holden worked grimly, securing the pressure bandage, knowing it was a temporary measure at best.
He was just finishing when heavy footsteps echoed from the cell doorway. Vorkas emerged, staggering slightly. The large, brutish man was covered in Gnash's dark ichor. Fresh tears cut clean paths through the grime and blood on his face, but his eyes, when they focused on Holden tending to Hillel, burned with rage Holden had never seen before.
"Holden," Vorkas's voice sounded thick with broken rage. "Get... away from him."
Holden didn't stop applying pressure, keeping his gaze level. "He needs medical attention, Vorkas."
"He needs to die," Vorkas spat, taking a step forward. His own curved blade was missing; Hillel had probably torn it out of the wound. But his fists were clenched, trembling with the force of his emotions. "That thing killed Gnash! Now, move aside. I'm going to finish what I started."
Holden's eyes narrowed. "I won't allow it."
Vorkas seethed, eyes widening as his veins grew more defined. "You what? You're really defending this stranger after he entered the most secretive layer of this facility and murdered Gnash?"
Holden didn't answer; he kept his hand pressed firmly on the bandage wrapped around Hillel's shoulder as his mind worked. During his call with Overseer Mahadai, he'd learned that Mahadai wanted to eliminate the beast tamer. The man standing before him was simply an obstacle, compromised by his own rage—a stubborn object standing between him and the preservation of arguably the most important "thing" in the facility. He had already made up his mind.
Vorkas, noticing Holden's refusal to answer, raised his foot, ready to stomp down on Hillel's head. He was so consumed by anger that he didn't notice Holden's hand resting on the handle of his sword.
But before either could make a decisive move...
BOOOM!!!
A deafening explosion roared overhead, shaking the stone surroundings like an earthquake. Dust and debris rained down from the cracked ceiling as the explosion's shock ripped through the facility. Holden threw himself over the boy's body, shielding him from the dislodged stones. Vorkas looked up in shock, his rage forgotten as he stared upward, face pale under the grime and ichor.
"What in the..." Vorkas breathed, looking toward the stairwell at the end of the corridor past the cold room—the only way up.
Holden pushed himself up, glancing quickly at the still-unconscious Hillel. He couldn't leave him exposed, but staying here felt increasingly dangerous. "That explosion definitely detonated in the upper levels," Holden said, staring at Vorkas evenly. "We should go check, instead of wasting our time fighting over something as mundane as this."
His words had enough conviction to shake Vorkas. Despite being mere seconds from slaying the beast tamer, he knew better than to kill an ally, especially now. A new obstacle had presented itself. A third party.
Without another word, both men turned, Vorkas staggering slightly, Holden moving with wary speed toward the stairwell.
Hillel remained laid out on the ground, blood still seeping out of his wounds despite the hasty first aid. Thankfully, the echoing explosion produced enough noise to stir him awake. His eyes opened briefly, a faint crimson shimmer traveling across them.
----
"Ugh..." Hillel groaned as he rolled over onto his back. The loud boom from earlier had been so deafening that it shook him out of his unconscious state, barely. But he was thankful—he didn't want to fall asleep and die here in this remote location.
The ceiling above him, rough stone and dark, now sported fresh cracks.
That's no good, Hillel thought. Imagine if the ceiling fell on me... that would be so painful.
They were faint, but a series of muffled booms reverberated through the stone, most of the noise coming from the direction of the cold room. He stared upward, his eyes widening as the stupor drained from his mind. Holy shit, it just might cave in on me! I've got to move!
Looking around, the only possible directions were the cell room, the stairs that stood beyond the cold room, or the portal room.
Wait, where is that bastard beast tamer? He tried to kill me!
He scanned the area but saw and heard no one. The only notable thing was the beast he had fought. From where he was positioned, he could see its motionless rear-end plopped halfway out of the cell he was confined in. The beast tamer's wailing had stopped. The wound on the beast's neck should have been fatal, so it's probably dead. But the beast tamer... did he leave? But why? This is so confusing! I could've sworn he was going to kill me...
He turned over onto his knees, looking at the patch of ground where he had passed out. The stone was soaked in blood.
My shoulder! He gasped as his left hand traveled to his right shoulder, where he felt the foreign sensation of bandages wrapped over his wound. Somehow, during the brief few minutes that he was unconscious, the beast tamer had disappeared, and someone had wrapped his shoulder.
What the hell? Who did this?
A louder boom echoed through the hallway. He looked toward the cold room. The sounds seemed to be coming from the stairs that led upward, just beyond the cold room. Something huge was occurring above him, and he knew that staying here any longer would be foolishly putting his life in danger.
His wounds still ached, but not as much. His right hand, in particular, was utterly useless now. It hung off to the side, dragging against the ground as he used his left arm to keep himself up. Crawling on one hand and knees, he approached the cold room. The sounds kept getting louder, and the closer he got, the more apparent it became that fierce fighting was going on above.
He hastened his pace, practically sprinting on his bleeding knees as he turned into the cold room. He eyed the buckets in this cold space, refusing to look at their contents for too long.
The ground was incredibly cold, so much so that he could only afford to keep his skin in contact with it for less than a second. He gingerly crawled through, making his way toward the portal room instead of taking the pathway upstairs.
He knew it was a stupid idea, heading to a mysterious place where fearsome monsters existed capable of ripping his head off. But the thought of ascending the stairs and being caught up in the fight scared him more. It was an unknown, a circumstance he had no idea how to tackle. The organ farm, however, felt doable. It was like returning to conquered territory—he was a bit more familiar with its workings compared to the facility. Maybe, just maybe, he would have a higher chance of surviving there.
After a few moments, he returned to the portal room. The door was closed, and the buckets that had been placed in the room were now gone. He let out a deep breath, his ribs aching as he did so, before reaching up and turning the handle. His heartbeat felt like it was skyrocketing.
It's okay, Hillel. You just need to hide within the plants. If you see one of the monsters, don't look into their eyes and don't make a sound.
He turned the handle fully and pushed the door inward, revealing the inside of the farmhouse. It was as plain as before, just worser in condition. Pieces of debris could be seen littered on the floor near the door, where a significant concentration of light was pouring into the room. Gray light continued to flicker in through the cracks in the roof. Specks of dust traversed the atmosphere, catching the light and throwing it repeatedly.
The memory of the cyclops banging on the outside of the house remained firmly imprinted in his mind. He felt himself trembling and immediately bit his tongue.
He crawled through and pushed himself to his feet, his body aching with every move. Slowly, he approached the entrance to the farmhouse, or what remained of it, and stepped out onto the soil of the organ farm. The cyclopes, thankfully, stood further off in the distance, harvesting. However, he noticed their faces seemed to be doused in a black substance, likely ink.
That ink bastard, Hillel bit his lip in anger, remembering the image of the old man who had bested him in an instant. Is he on this farm? What is with my bad luck??
He groaned inwardly. Judging by how easily that man had knocked him out, he was way out of his league regarding strength. Reencountering him would definitely be the worst thing possible.
He limped around to the back of the farmhouse, glancing back occasionally to check where the cyclopes were. Once the farmhouse obstructed their view, he limped faster in the opposite direction, moving through crops and wet ground. He needed to get far enough away from the cyclopes to take a breather and give his body some much-needed rest.
Then, he would go back and check out the portal. Although he wasn't too thrilled about returning to the facility. The pain he'd endured there was significantly greater than what he experienced here on the organ farm. And for that reason, the wandering sentinels didn't seem so scary anymore.