How had it ended up like this?
He faced down three more knights with his new blade, finally able to keep pace with them to an extent. Of course, exhaustion and pain weighed him down.
Artemis's lungs felt like they were on fire. He could barely draw in a breath as he moved swiftly, swinging his silver talwar blade towards a stalwart onyx knight ahead of him. It bounced dramatically off the midnight plated armour, causing him to curse as he reeled backward, barely avoiding the retaliatory strike.
Steel cut deep into his flesh from behind, piercing the space between the new leather cuirass, spilling his blood onto the murky stone floor of the fortress. He spun around, knocking the blade out of another knight's hand with his sword. The knight looked at him furiously, red-dotted pupils glaring in a blood-lusted manner.
He had just wanted to sleep! He wanted to waste his day away, forgetting who he was, what obligations he had, what family he belonged to!
And most of all, he wished to ignore the Demon tormenting him!
Why had he ended up in this terrible predicament!?
He grimaced, pushing into the parry of the third knight as he knocked its sword away. He reached forward, blood flying as he grasped at the Knight's helmet, pulling it clear away as he thrust forward, driving the point of the talwar into the furious amalgamation of miasma that replaced its flesh.
It dissipated in front of him, the collection of onyx armour clattering to the ground below.
How long had it been since he had been transported to this ancient city? Over several hours, he had experienced more horrors than he had ever dreamt up in his constant nightmares. But this was all real, it was dire enough to put his life on the line.
Underneath the night sky of pitch-black stars, Artemis's body went into a frenzy, trying to collect itself. He couldn't breath, his muscles ached, and the wounds on his back and arms pulsed like flames. Just a single fight sent him into this state.
If only he had spent more time studying the blade, he was two years out of practice… even though he had practiced by himself, it wasn't nearly enough to supplement his lack of fighting sense.
He had spent far too long in his reclusive state, pushed too many people away.
This lazy Prince couldn't bear it… couldn't bear his mistakes.
He would make up for it, he would return to the Palace, he would escape this damned city.
He had to survive this hell at all costs. He couldn't afford to die. He couldn't afford to accrue more wounds. He couldn't, by any accord, afford the debt to death he was carrying.
He stabbed downward into the other fallen knight, piercing through where the seal would have been.
Why are these knights appearing as blackish miasma? And more than that, the other Knight wasn't anything like this. Is it the case that the miasmic knights are different from the hollow ones? Perhaps only one kind is inhabited by a Spirit, and the others are reliant on the strange bloody runes? But, from what I've seen, aren't Spirits typically brighter colours?
The only time I saw such a darker Spirit was…
…when I met Lark…
There was a key trait that determined the difference between a Daemonic Spirit and a normal one, which was their innate Origin. Whatever life they lived, where they were born, how they died, how satisfied they were with their lives, and how powerful they had become were all determining factors, but what mattered most was what they were.
It didn't matter if they were a kind creature or an evil creature. Even the most disgusting of beings could be the most gentle, but those of vile nature were hated, vilified by Fate and its happenings. Then, Fate would only choose a few of the worst that it had determined, making them quite a rare breed of tragedy.
Those terrifying, ugly creatures were who became Daemonic Spirits.
Sometimes, these Spirits were kind and amiable, and despite their namesake and Origin, they were often quite helpful and pleasant.
Lark just happened to have been a terrible one, both through their outward appearance and their deepest, vilest heart.
But why were there so many of them in the dark city!?
That should be the last of them in this area… I need to keep moving… but…
The wounds he had accumulated festered.
Should I try using the black water again…?
But Lark warned against it… it could be dangerous to expose myself further.
He decided to simply bandage his wounds, tearing away sheets of his night clothes that he had wrapped around his waist, now sporting the leather cuirass and its midnight attire.
He walked through the depths of a building, one of its walls decayed and charred by flame.
One of the palace's towers had long-since fallen over, crashing into the building. A hole had been split clean into the ceiling, and in the floor, a massive ravine was created. A large gap in the side of the tower, which remained intact, had been opened up, faint moonlight peering into it.
He studied its length, seeing how it still reached up towards the upper floors.
If I follow the interior of this tower, can I reach the top of the palace?
If that's the case, I won't even have to challenge the creatures in the palace's further depths…
That is, as long as the tower doesn't also hold terrifying beasts…
And on that note, he caught a glimpse of one such creature that had been silently tormenting him since his arrival.
In the distance, standing across from the massive gaping hole that had been torn into the palace's structure, he saw the pale-eyed shadow. Its glowing yellow gaze stared at him adamantly, its shape becoming formless as he stared back at it. The human-like apparition melted, merging into the shadows as it disappeared completely.
Artemis glanced around warily, searching for any movement in the shadows around him. But in the dead of night, that was easier said than done.
But after a while, nothing happened. The shadow didn't reappear to attack, and the night remained silent and fearless.
Can blades even kill shadows?
Suddenly, Artemis felt warmth on his neck, wetness dripping down towards his collarbone as sharpness pressed against his skin. A flash of silver shot across his vision, watching as a hand holding a blade forced him to the ground, his knees aching intensely as they hit the stone.
"W-what the fuck…!?" Artemis stammered, trying to turn around to face his aggressor.
But he couldn't move.
He only saw the glint of an iris churning a bright-green colour.
He felt… paralysed. Every inch of his body begged to burst away from the figure, but he couldn't even form the thought of moving. His thinking had slowed significantly as well.
A cold, disembodied voice spoke out. It was feminine, soft, but filled with violence, like it had an extreme desire to press down the knife further. It was laced with warning, and he had been tasked with a duty to comply.
"You're a person, a real one… and you're following me. Are you a Reaper?"
"A… what?" Artemis stammered. "No-no, I'm not that. I'm not following you."
"No, a Reaper would never deny being a Reaper. They have nothing to lose. Who the f-ck are you?"
"I'm no one. I just want to find my way out of here."
"F-cking liar. Who sent you to interfere with the Lord's plans?"
The Lord? What the hell is she talking about?
The knife pressed against his skin, causing him to twitch instinctively.
"I just got stuck in here! That's it! I woke up this morning and I was trapped in here!"
He was suddenly thrown to the ground, spinning around as he hit against a pile of rubble, pointing stone digging into his back. He let out a pained groan, his shaky vision glancing up towards his aggressor.
Facing the woman, he felt all of his duty to withhold falter. She had a… calming sense about her. Even though she had threatened his life, it felt like he could tell her anything, seek her comfort, her approval. It was odd.
But more than that, she was eerily familiar.
She had pale-red hair that flowed down her shoulders and back like rainfall, and a pale face of freckles like stars on her cheeks. She wore a bright-yellow cloak which waved in the nighttime breeze, backing up as she held the silver knife in his direction, her free hand anticipating any movement he might suddenly make to attack.
But he was far too preoccupied to think about combat.
This was the woman he had seen in his dream!
Who is she? Why was she in my dream!?
If she's really real, and the light is real… then… what about those shadows!?
The ones who will block my way forward?
No, forget the shadows! Just who is she!?
She studied his face for a moment, hers eventually twisted with a sense of mad confusion.
"What, you're really being serious? You didn't come here on purpose?"
Artemis slowly propped himself up, glancing at her. "Yes, I'm being serious. I woke up this morning to find that I had appeared here… I don't know where I am, or what's going on, and I keep having to fight terrifying things and suffer greatly."
He scoffed, suddenly adopting a callous, calculated look.
"I don't want to fight you, not because I couldn't win, but because I'm tired. I would like to rest before I continue trying to find my way out of this hell. I would rather not do it covered in your blood."
Her eye twitched, her frown curling upwards. She let out a curt laugh, covering her mouth as she replied, "so you're a Clown. I see. Jokes are your forte."
"It's not a joke…"
At least… I don't think it is. Could she beat me in a fight?
He wasn't very good at anticipating the strength of foes, not as long as they looked particularly menacing. But he didn't get that sort of sense from the woman. She was quite… pleasant, despite her callousness.
Maybe he didn't need to act so rough in front of her.
"I can't make any promises about helping you, but you can follow me. I'm not exactly looking to escape from this place, though. So you'll have to find that for yourself."
She extended her hand, frowning slightly, as if the act of basic manners was something she disapproved of, but complied with regardless.
"I'm Ruffliette. No last name, no accolades, nothing at all. Just Ruffliette."
Artemis extended his hand wearily, which shook with fatigue, still bloodied from his last battle.
"I'm Artemis… just Artemis."
He still felt he should conceal who he truly was from her.
After all, she had held a knife to his throat.
What else would she do if she found out he was a Prince?
She turned away with a grin, sheathing her knife. "It's a pleasure, Artemis."
He watched as the woman began to walk into the shadows, the bright-yellow cloak fluttering behind her.
"What if I don't want to follow you?"
"You said you wanted to rest, right?" She replied casually, waving her hand. "So, let's take turns fighting. One person can rest, and the other can fight. I'm also quite tired, so I wouldn't mind company. What is there for you to worry about. Can't you kill me quite easily, as you said before?"
His eye twitched, her spitefulness was quite annoying.
But even though she had threatened his life, he still felt enamored by her.
So, Artemis took a step forward, following behind the woman as they headed towards the fallen tower.