The exit (1)
"I won't kill you or anything like that, just… Well… It's not my initial goal." He spoke, and his attention briefly shifted to the irony of the scene before him—a group of fallen hunters, and he, a solitary and powerful being confused in his own existence. "Anyway, I just want a way out of this place."
The words spoken by the being rising before them, words of surprising humanity, resonated in the ears of the hunters. The shock was evident on their faces, deeply marking Marcus, who couldn't hide his disbelief.
"A monster is speaking the human language?" The question emerged in his mind, intrinsic and insistent, while he tried to assimilate the idea that the creature before them, so fearsome in power, shared something so fundamentally human: the ability to communicate.
But Marcus's shock, that brief moment of curious surprise, soon turned into fear, a visceral and profound fear. The implications of what this represented were frightening. A monster with a human appearance, speaking like a man and expressing unequivocally human desires, was something that transcended the understanding and expectations of any hunter.
The idea that such an entity, a being of such notable and fearsome caliber, could pass unnoticed among humans, disguise itself under the guise of normality, shook the foundations of what Marcus and his squad understood as a threat. It wasn't just the possibility of an attack that perturbed them, but the prospect of infiltration, of a hidden enemy at the very heart of humanity. The danger that Thomas represented at that point seemed to have no limits, rendering him something akin to a living weapon, a personified scourge with fatal potential for all around him.
Was he a harbinger of a greater threat, or an isolated case, lost and confused in his own capabilities and origin? The answer to these questions weighed in the air, leaving Marcus with not only the responsibility of ensuring the safety of his comrades but also the burden of deciding how to deal with a variable as unpredictable and potentially devastating as Thomas.
Thomas remained motionless, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the hunters before him, searching for a clue that might explain their stunned demeanor. In the depths of his consciousness, a doubt began to form: "Am I being ignored? Damn… Has my face become so ugly that they mistake me for a monster or something? Is it so unusual for someone like me to speak?" The surprise of the hunters was palpable, and Thomas, unable to untangle the web of their fearful and confused looks, opted to reiterate his question, this time a bit more insistently: "So? How do I get out of this place?"
Marcus, bearing the mantle of leadership and courage that the situation demanded, knew that the answer he provided could seal not only the fate of his squad but indirectly, that of many others. Composure and sincerity were his only options in front of the being that mingled human traits with such formidable power.
"Because of the dungeon break, the dungeon is temporarily locked until it is completed, or until 24 hours have passed. Only then will it be opened again." The truth came from Marcus's lips without hesitation. He did not intend to deceive; his priorities were in line—to ensure the survival of his squad and, if possible, to cooperate with that strange being, even aware of the danger it could represent.
As he informed Thomas of the situation, a quick calculation ran through his mind. "I don't know the strength of this monster, but I'm sure the world's heroes should be able to take care of it. I just need to make sure we get out of this place alive. I cannot fail again as I failed in the past!" Although brief, this thought carried an iron determination, born from the ashes of past mistakes and the unwavering will to not repeat them.
Now it was a matter of seeing how Thomas would react to the information. Would he be patient enough to wait? Or would his nature compel him to seek a more immediate and potentially more dangerous solution? The fate of the hunters and Thomas hung in the balance, the scales of which were in the decided hands of Marcus and the unknown will of the powerful being before him.
The gears of Thomas's mind were working at full speed, the puzzle pieces of his current situation beginning to align with the fragmented memories and traces of knowledge he possessed. "Dungeon? Dungeon break?" He pondered the terms that sounded strangely familiar, and, in a flash, he associated them with the chaotic events linked to that malevolent voice that had dragged him here.
Thomas realized, with a growing sense of understanding, that there was a connection between his past choices and the emergence of monstrous portals during such a turbulent period as World War II. A connection that in itself seemed unthinkable, but given the evidence mounting before his eyes, became plausible.
With a smile reflecting his epiphany, Thomas quickly inquired with curiosity and urgency, "What year is it?"
This question took Marcus by surprise, and shock was visible in his expression. The leader of the hunters could not have been more confused - should a monster know what era it was in? Or worse, why would a monster be concerned with dates?
"What year is it? Does a monster know these terms?!" Marcus's mind throbbed with frenetic thoughts and doubts. The possibility that Thomas was something more, something other than a monster, began to seem not just optimistic but plausible. The hope flickering in his chest was undeniable, he wanted to believe in that idea fervently. That before him stood not a monster, but a human.
His trained mind, shaped by years where instinct and experience guided his actions, did not allow him to accept this possibility too easily. Scepticism and caution had become his creed, an inescapable part of who he was as a hunter.
And so, contemplating the danger and the potential revelation that answer could bring, Marcus made his decision and replied with some caution:
"We are in 2023."
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The switch in the narrative to the outside of the dungeon introduces a drastic change of scenery. The prestigious Wembley Stadium, normally a stage for grand events and celebrations, had been turned into a staging ground for an impending conflict, its usual clamor replaced by a palpable tension.
The stands were filled with hunters of various calibers, each dressed in the distinctive attire of their profession. All eyes were fixed on the red portal that pulsed with sinister energy, the epicenter of collective anxiety.
Next to the portal stood two men who seemed to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Leo and Arthur, supervisors of the English Hunter Association, were figures of authority, contrasting with the understated chaos that surrounded them. The usual assertive command one would expect from them was overshadowed by palpable concern, as they exchanged their observations.
"We have gathered all the hunters in our country in this single stadium. However, the only S-class huntress in our country hasn't arrived…" The eminent concern in Leo's voice seemed to spread further anxiety in the already tense environment.
Arthur, upon hearing Leo's words, felt his teeth clench, reflecting the growing desperation of the situation. Worrying thoughts filled his mind: "We are about to go to war against whatever comes through that portal, and we do not have our strongest hunter present!" Frustration was undeniable; the country was about to face a catastrophic contingency without its champion.
As time mercilessly ran against them, the gazes of the two men oscillated between the portal threatening to pour unknown horrors upon their nation and the void left by the absence of their most powerful warrior. This absence not only implied a deficit in strength but also served as a psychological blow to the assembled hunters. In such circumstances, the spirit and morale of a troop could be as crucial as their fighting capability.
The air fraught with tension and doubt that enveloped Arthur and Leo underwent a sudden change as a clamor rose. The sound, sharp and imperative, dispelled the negative thoughts and heralded the much-awaited news: the arrival of Elizabeth Rose.
The words "Make way! Make way for the RANK-S huntress, Elizabeth Rose!" interrupted the anxious murmur of those present and captured everyone's attention. Commanding immediate action, the hunters opened a pathway through which a dazzling figure advanced.
Leo and Arthur turned their gazes in the direction of the voice and, as they witnessed the scene unfolding before them, their expressions mirrored a mixture of relief and admiration. A girl with wheat-golden hair and eyes as blue as the crystal-clear sky on a summer's day walked towards them, cutting through the crowd with determined steps.
Elizabeth's appearance did not go unnoticed by anyone; her features seemed carved with the delicacy and precision worthy of a Renaissance masterpiece. The renowned beauty she possessed resided not only in her lush aesthetics but also in the power and presence she exuded.
Dressed in a form-fitting female vest adorned with silver details, the huntress wore attire that, while clearly functional and ready for combat, did not neglect her femininity. The tight pants complemented her slender figure, outlining the strong legs that had often been her support in fierce battles. The high boots strengthened her stance, giving her an air of majesty and control.
Around her, respect was visible on the faces of the hunters who made way for her passage. The aura that Elizabeth Rose emanated was a combination of gracefulness and iron resolution, a rare glimpse of elegance and destructive potential coexisting in perfect harmony.
The arrival of the rank-S huntress, the strongest in England, instilled a new wave of hope and determination through the ranks of those present. The future battlefield witnessed the advent of a warrior whose name was synonymous with feats and victories, and perhaps, the key to success in the looming crisis.
Seeing Elizabeth Rose advance through the crowd towards them, Leo and Arthur promptly positioned themselves, affirming with their stance and attention the importance of the huntress. Arthur, whose familiarity with Elizabeth allowed for a somewhat more personal tone, began to address her with a relieved expression: "Rose…", but before he could even elaborate his thoughts into words, she interrupted him.
"Sorry I'm late. Update me on the facts." Elizabeth's words sliced through the air between them; there was no room for pleasantries or unnecessary banter. She was fully aware of the weight of her responsibility, and the urgent desire to perform her role resonated in her straightforward speech.
Arthur, recognizing the need for brevity, nodded his head, exchanging a brief look with Leo before stepping forward to fulfill her request. With as much clarity and conciseness as possible, he began to recount the current situation, highlighting the crucial information: the emergence of the portal, the estimation of potential threats, the positioning and preparedness of their forces, and the current state of the city and country in the face of the unexplainable and menacing presence.
As Arthur spoke, Elizabeth maintained a focused demeanor, absorbing every word. She listened intently, already mentally devising strategies and preparing to lead the other hunters in what could be one of the most challenging battles of their lives. The confidence she commanded was a salve to the fear and uncertainty that permeated the stadium, a visible source of inspiration for all present hunters. With Elizabeth Rose in position, the English hunters' association finally felt ready to face the unknown.
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Author's Notes:
Hello readers ╰(°▽°)╯ I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If there are any mistakes or questions, leave them in the comments! Leave a comment (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞