8. Mordakus

8

MORDAKUS

T he sun beats down mercilessly as I scout ahead, my eyes constantly scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The landscape is a patchwork of ruins and overgrown vegetation, nature reclaiming what was once a thriving town. Every step I take is calculated, every sense on high alert.

Behind me, I can hear Eve's lighter footsteps and Vincent's occasional mew. I glance back, watching as Eve points out various plants to the creature, her voice a soft murmur carried on the hot, dry wind.

"Look, Vincent," she says, kneeling to examine a scraggly bush. "This is mulop. It can help stop bleeding if we ever need it."

I turn away, pushing down the warmth that threatens to bloom in my chest at the sight. Attachment is dangerous. I learned that lesson the hard way, years ago...

I shake off the memory, refocusing on the present.

We can't afford distractions out here.

"Eve," I call back, my voice gruff. "Keep up. We need to cover more ground before nightfall."

She jogs to catch up, Vincent cradled in her arms. "Sorry," she says, slightly out of breath. "I just got excited about all the plants we're seeing. There's so much life out here, even after everything that's happened."

I grunt in response, unsure how to react to her enthusiasm. Part of me wants to encourage it - her knowledge has proven useful more than once. But another part sees it as a potential weakness.

"Just stay alert," I say finally. "Plants won't save you from a demon attack."

Eve's face falls slightly, but she nods. "I know. I'm trying to be more aware, like you taught me."

I notice she's holding herself differently now, more upright, her eyes darting around in a pale imitation of my own vigilance. Even Vincent is getting into it, his whiskers and tail pointed, eyes darting around.

It's a small change, but a noticeable one.

Despite myself, I feel a flicker of pride.

"Your mentality is improving," I admit grudgingly. "Keep it up."

Her face lights up at the meager praise, and I have to look away.

These... feelings... they're dangerous. A distraction we can't afford.

"Mordakus?" Eve's voice breaks into my thoughts. "Can I ask you something?"

I tense, wary of personal questions. "What is it?"

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

The question hits too close to home, stirring up memories I'd rather forget. "It doesn't matter," I say curtly. "Focus on the present."

Eve sighs, frustration evident in her voice. "I'm just trying to understand you better. We're in this together, aren't we?"

Her words spark an unexpected surge of anger. "We're not 'in this together,'" I snap. "I'm keeping you alive because you're my prisoner. Don't mistake that for friendship."

The hurt in Eve's eyes is immediate and deep.

She falls silent, hugging Vincent closer.

I know I should apologize, but the words stick in my throat.

It's better this way, I tell myself.

Safer.

We walk in tense silence for hours, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon. Just as I'm about to suggest we find shelter for the night, a sound catches my attention. Voices carried on the wind.

I hold up a hand, signaling Eve to stop. "Stay here," I whisper. "I'm going to check it out."

Creeping forward, I peer over a ridge. In the valley below, a small group of survivors has set up camp. They're armed, and from their postures and the way they handle their weapons, I can tell they're dangerous.

I'm about to retreat when I hear a scream. One of the survivors has spotted Eve, who must have followed me despite my instructions.

Everything happens in a blur. The survivors charge towards us, weapons raised. I feel a familiar heat rising within me, a primal urge I've long struggled to contain.

"Eve, stay back!" I growl, my voice deepening as I feel the change begin. There's too many of them.

Twelve. Thirteen. Fifteen.

The first attacker reaches me, and something inside me snaps. My vision goes red, and I feel my body shifting, growing stronger, more bestial. I'm dimly aware of my horns elongating, my skin hardening into scales.

I meet the first attacker head-on, my now clawed hand easily deflecting his makeshift weapon. With a roar that's more animal than human, I grab him by the throat. His eyes widen in terror as he sees my transformed face. I squeeze, feeling his windpipe collapse under my grip, before tossing him aside like a rag doll.

Another comes at me with a rusty slab of metal. I dodge and retaliate with a backhand that sends him flying into a crumbling wall. The sickening crunch of breaking bones is music to my demon ears.

Two more rush me simultaneously. In my frenzied state, I welcome the challenge. I duck under their attacks, my demonic speed making their movements seem sluggish. Rising up between them, I grab their heads and slam them together with bone-crushing force.

One by one I slay them.

They try to retreat.

But I'm faster.

Stronger.

What follows is a brutal, savage display of violence. I tear into the attackers with inhuman strength and ferocity. Bones crack under my grip, flesh tears beneath my claws. The rational part of my mind screams at me to stop, to regain control, but the demon within me revels in the carnage.

The last attacker, seeing his comrades fall, turns to run. The demon in me won't allow it. With inhuman speed, I'm on him in an instant. My claws rake across his back, tearing through cloth and flesh alike. He screams in agony as I lift him by his hair, bringing his face close to mine.

"Mercy," he whimpers, but the word means nothing to the beast I've become.

In mere moments, it's over. The attackers lie broken and bloodied at my feet, some moaning in agony, others ominously still. I stand there, chest heaving, the taste of blood in my mouth.

Slowly, the red haze fades from my vision. I feel my body returning to its more human form, the demonic features receding. And then I hear it - a small, frightened whimper.

"Mordakus?" Eve's voice is small, frightened. I turn to see her staring at me, her eyes wide with shock. Vincent is trembling in her arms.

Looking down at my bloodied hands, I suddenly see myself through her eyes.

A monster.

A killer.

Just another one of them…

"Are you hurt?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intend.

She shakes her head mutely.

"Good. We need to move. Now."

"A-are you one of them?"

"Yes. But I have power," I say, already starting to rummage through their campsite. "And I'm on your side."

As we hurry away from the scene, I can feel Eve's eyes on me.

The fear and astonishment in her gaze cuts deeper than I want to admit.

But it's necessary.

She needs to survive when I'm gone.

We find shelter in an abandoned shack, the silence between us heavy and oppressive. As Eve settles down with Vincent, I take up my usual position by the entrance, standing guard.

But my mind is in turmoil. The ease with which I dispatched those survivors, the brutality of my actions - it's a stark reminder of what I am.

And yet... the fear in Eve's eyes haunts me. For the first time in years, I find myself caring what someone else thinks of me.

It's a dangerous feeling, a weakness I can't afford.

As the night wears on, I watch Eve sleep, Vincent curled up beside her. They look so peaceful, so... innocent.

Everything I'm not.

The realization hits me like a physical blow: I'm growing attached. To Eve, to Vincent, to this strange little family we've cobbled together.

I clench my fists, angry at myself for this weakness.

Attachment gets you killed. Caring gets you hurt. I know this. I've lived it.

But as I look at Eve's sleeping form, I can't quite bring myself to regret it.