The World Is Mine For The Taking

Chapter 14: Chapter 3 - In The Dead Of The Night (1)

It was exactly midnight when I, Elise, strolled down the dark alley, the sharp click of my black stilettos echoing on the cobblestone pavement. The full moon cast its glow, revealing three figures hiding in the shadows.

"Took you long enough, Eclair," one of the men in the middle, seated in a wheelchair, remarked. He leaned in, allowing me to see one ember eye as the rest of his face remained shrouded in bandages, lit by the moonlight.

"It looks like that man really did a number on you," I said with an amused tone.

The man in the wheelchair scoffed, his ember eye narrowing at me, the dim moonlight casting an eerie glow on his scarred face. "This is just a temporary setback."

I couldn't help but chuckle, my voice a sultry symphony laced with a hint of mockery. "Temporary? From where I'm standing, it looks like a permanent downgrade."

His grin widened, revealing a set of sharp teeth that glinted in the shadows. "You always did have a sharp tongue, Eclair. But let's get down to business. I've got a proposition for you."

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"We need your skills, your... expertise," he said, gesturing to the dimly lit surroundings. "The underworld is changing, and we need someone who can adapt."

I smirked, knowing there was more to this than met the eye. "Adaptation comes at a price. What's in it for me?"

The man's ember eye gleamed with a sly glint. "Protection, power, and a taste of the pleasures this world has to offer. Join us, Eclair, and you won't regret it."

I considered his offer, the allure of the dark side calling out to me. "Maybe, but I don't play second fiddle to anyone. Remember that."

He chuckled, the sound resonating through the alley, echoing like a dark hymn. "You were never meant for a supporting role. We want you at the forefront of this new era."

To be honest, the proposition was tantalizing. If I took a leading role in this underworld transformation, the chances of finding my younger brother would skyrocket. However, caution held me back. This man, a master of betrayal, spoke with a silver-tongued persuasion. I couldn't simply accept what spilled from his lips.

"You seem a tad guarded," he observed.

"Who wouldn't be, especially when dealing with someone like you?"

The man chuckled. "Do not worry. What I'm telling you is the unvarnished truth this time."

I cast a furtive glance at the two men flanking him, their shadows dancing in the dimly lit alley, before returning my gaze to him.

"As of this moment, I've got zero interest in diving into the depths of the underground, let alone leading it. I've got to apologize for that."

"I had a feeling you'd say that," he sighed. "Well, nothing much I can do about it, I suppose."

"I half-expected you to pull a gun on me for turning you down, but I guess I was off the mark."

"Seriously? You think I'd dare to pull a stunt like that, especially with someone as formidable as you, given my current state? Even these two here wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell against you. Am I right?"

No argument there. Those two were nothing more than lambs headed for slaughter in my presence. Any foolish attempt at violence would only lead them to a swift and futile demise. And if this man in the wheelchair wasn't as battered as he is now, the tables would be turned, and I would find myself at the mercy of his strength. Fortunately, he's been so thoroughly beaten that it's beyond the realm of possibility for him to defeat me.

"You're not quite the hot-headed troublemaker the rumors make you out to be, huh?"

"I've been on my best behavior lately, thanks to a certain someone."

"I don't know the details, but that someone must be pretty powerful to have you acting like this."

I didn't have all the details about what had really gone down with this man, but I'd caught wind of some rumors. The moment those whispers reached my ears, I found myself oddly intrigued by the individual who had pulled off something like this against the underground's second-in-command. I knew he wouldn't be thrilled with me prying into his affairs, but I had to ask. There was this gut feeling, this inexplicable intuition, that delving into this might provide some insight into my brother's whereabouts. I couldn't quite put my finger on why I felt this way, given the slim chance of this case having any connection to my brother, but the feeling gnawed at me relentlessly.

"Mind if I hit you with a few questions? I'll entertain your proposal if you indulge me."

"Really? Well then, lay it on me."

Our eyes locked, a tacit agreement forming between us. "Just how formidable is this individual?"

He held my gaze for a moment, his lone eye locking onto mine before he let out a resigned sigh. "I knew you'd ask that..."

He then tapped his bony finger, also swathed in bandages, onto the armrest of the wheelchair.

The men flanking him delicately adjusted his position until the moonlight fully bathed his entire body. Witnessing his complete form, I grasped the harsh severity of his condition. It was almost inconceivable that this man clung tenaciously to life, given the state he was in.

He held the prestigious position of the underground's second-in-command, a role second only to the underground king. His ascendancy to this position was attributed not only to his exceptional intelligence but also to his formidable strength, a strength that even surpassed my own – a fact I begrudgingly acknowledged.

Yet now, observing him in this state, his body wrapped in bandages like a mummy, one arm severed along with a leg, it was genuinely shocking.

"I reckon you can gauge the might of that man just from the injuries I've endured. But, if it's to satisfy your curiosity, I can elaborate... Truth be told, I have no clue about his true strength. He toyed with me like a puppet, effortlessly controlling me even as I exerted every ounce of my skill. I pushed myself to the brink, almost to the point of self-destruction, and yet, he never went all out."

"...He restrained himself when you were at your limits?" I queried, genuinely puzzled by this revelation.

"That's right. I threw everything in my arsenal at him, and still, I couldn't land a hit. Couldn't even get close. His power... it felt akin to waging war against the very essence of darkness itself."

His solitary hand, ensconced in blood-soaked bandages, clenched with such intensity that the fabric itself reddened, evidence of lingering wounds that still bled.

"He mocked me, you know," he rasped, his voice tinged with the bitterness of that haunting encounter. "Dancing around, effortlessly evading and deflecting. All the while, that damned smile never left his face. I'll never forget the frustration that consumed me, the sheer powerlessness. I, renowned as the underworld's strongest, reduced to a pawn in a man's twisted game."

His gaze bore into mine, and the bandages seemed to drink in more and more crimson, saturated with the weight of his words.

"But... the true helplessness engulfed me when he unleashed a magic spell beyond my comprehension. It was like facing the might of a monstrous entity," he uttered, the words hanging heavy in the air.

I listened in silence as he recounted the tale of his futile struggle against a force that seemed beyond mortal comprehension.

"He played with me, toyed with my every move as if I were nothing more than an insect," he continued, his one visible eye reflecting a mix of anger and resignation. "No matter what I did, it was like trying to grasp smoke with my bare hands. And then, the magic... I can't even find words to describe it. It was as if a colossal beast had awoken, and its sheer presence overwhelmed me."

The moonlight cast an eerie glow on the scene, emphasizing the grim reality of his injuries and the torment he had endured. The air seemed thick with the echoes of his struggles.

"Even now, as I stand before you, I can still feel the remnants of that dark magic lingering within me," he confessed, a haunted look in his eye. "I've been broken, physically and mentally, and I fear I may never fully recover."

Recovery seemed an elusive specter, drifting out of reach for him both physically and, judging by the visible tremors, mentally as well. How had someone managed to bring down the supposed strongest member of the underworld? And if this enigmatic figure truly existed, what inscrutable motives fueled his actions?

"I've got another question for you."

The man in the wheelchair ceased his trembling, as if snapping back to reality. Despite this, a lingering unease still haunted his lone eye. "Go ahead. Ask away."

I drew in a deep breath before continuing, "What did he call himself?"

I was aware of the titles bestowed upon him by the underworld—virtuoso, playwright, showman—all signifying a mastermind and performer of grand spectacles. But I sought his true name, if he had divulged it to this man. Yet, the man shook his head, indicating that no such revelation had occurred.

"...But," he added after the decisive shake, "he left me with a dire warning. The reason I still draw breath is to relay a message to the underworld. He proclaimed that a day would come when only one king would reign in this world. Those donning the guise of kings should renounce their titles, lest they incur the wrath of the sole and undisputed monarch."

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