Chapter 38: [36] Crimson River

The act of ripping demonic cores from the skulls of beasts was a delicate one. A person would ebb a knife or a small blade into the forehead of the creatures and slowly slice out the spherical chunk of swirling mass. One imprecision and it was possible you would simply stab the thing and break it on impact. Of course, Alicia merely wiggled blood at her hand, made claws of them, and ripped the orbs out from the scattered, dead, Shadow Wolves as if she were plucking grapes off vines.

That was a shocking sight for most of the raid group, however, watching the bloody girl rip the things out as easily as one would tear paper. Then their eyes bulged at how Claire merely froze the creatures' heads, flicked with a finger, watched them shatter into fine grains of ice-dust, then picked up the remaining orbs as if they were pebbles.

"Fuck," Via Goodwill cursed, wondering if telling the two about the things had been stupid on her part, and hurried to stab and twirl the blades fashioned from her chains to remove the orbs the 'old-fashioned' way.

While the rest still scampered across the section of the forest, weaving through torn down trees to get their share, Claire and Alicia stood at a corner, having decided they had picked enough as they counted.

"I have 13," Claire said, "You?"

"Twenty-three!" Alicia grinned.

The ice queen took both clumps into her hand and, with a wave, ice came over the black orbs and they soon shattered into a realm only two people knew.

". . ." Albert Stref sighed, a hand clutching three orbs. At the very least, he stole better than most of the group. Most had gotten one or two, Via had six, and there was a Knight with a crossbow strapped to his back, decked in full iron armor, that cried silent tears at the realization he did not bring a blade. How was he to have known they wouldn't be splitting things evenly?

The raid group moved after that little break, and after they had mended to small wounds. At the latter, Alicia shocked them some more. While it was painful to be healed by her, watching her mend wounds and cuts, stitch skin back together, held a different feeling. Certainly, it was more effective than swallowing down a health potion.

". . .are you two heroes?" At this point, the bunny could not help but ask as they trekked through the thickness of the dungeon's forest.

The sun's light shined down and, though the parts of the sky they could see was clear and blue, the leaves of the trees overhead blocked their sight.

"Who knows really," Claire merely replied to the girl she didn't quite like, while Alicia walked at her side—mind in her own head.

Until, she stopped with nose sniffing.

"I smell blood," The vampire said.

Via rolled her eyes as the group stopped, her ears twitching, "We're in a dungeon, of course you smell blood, it's all around us."

"No," Claire shook her head, "Listen."

The group walked as they listened. Soon, the sounds of roars and growls entered their ears. The sound of pain, too, came. These were not normal. It reached them and they knew it as the beastly growl of suffering.

"Let's move quickly. . ." Albert Stref settled to walk faster.

A few minutes later, when the sound had grown wilder and stronger, they stepped out of the forest and into a cliff's edge.

A wild land of brown spanned ahead. There were mountains below an azure sky, and the sun shined its light upon the realm. Yet, within this space, their eyes widened.

Red painted the ground a hundred feet down. Red flowed, broke into lines as thin as ribbons, and formed into lines as thick as the trunk of trees.

'A river of blood,' Claire thought, her eyes spanning more of the area.

The river of blood was interesting, yes, but it paled in comparison to what brawled above such a river.

Beasts ripped into each other, mangling and tearing and snapping. There were wolves, there were goblins less evolved then Claire had seen before, and there were more creatures she had yet to ever see.

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Within that mass of blood, a figure fluttered like the wind. Cloaked in black, the thing they could make out as human stood within the midst of the river of blood, its clothing bellowing with the breeze.

"The hell is that?" The bunny asked.

"It's a person, I think," Albert Stref rubbed his chin and held onto his sword.

"It's a boy," Alicia said, her eyes better than anyone's there as she blinked.

"It's another hero. . ." Claire muttered.

[Name: Vander Slade

Race: Ghost

Strength: F

Speed: F

Mana: F

Skills: Hero (OverLord), Phantom (Unique),

Overall: F]

'An extremely weak hero,' She thought with some interest.

"That's a hero?" Via arched a brow, "I've never heard of him, her, or it. Whatever that thing is, it sure as hell doesn't have even an 'Introduction' in its book to be called a hero."

"It's a boy," Alicia said, again, wrinkling her nose in displeasure at the stench she smelled.

"Yeah, whatever."

Around the boy that appeared as if he were a ghost, beasts massacred each other as he stood, merely watching. When his head raised, and eyes locked onto her own, Claire saw orbs of pure blue that floated and danced is if it were an ethereal flame.

He took a step forward.

His figure blurred, walking through the bodies of the dead as if they did not exist. He walked and he passed as the beasts ignored his existence. Under the bright sun, his feet stepped in the red of the crimson river, but he brought them out and took an unsoaked step after another.

It was as if he floated through the massacre.

"Draw your weapons!" Albert Stref called out as he watched the thing's steps with caution.

The group upon the cliff readied their weapons, the sound of blades leaving sheaths resounding. Claire called him a hero, but they had never heard of the individual. To them, he only appeared like the controller of demonic beasts.

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