Anastasia [2]

Rummaging through Feras' belongings, Marek retrieved a pouch containing copper and silver coins, meager spoils but better than nothing.

"Strong prey on the weak, while the weak falter against the strong," Marek muttered, discarding his bloodied sword.

He found that this little gang was exactly representing these words.

With precision, Marek exchanged his bloodstained shirt for a fresh one from Feras' wardrobe, tailoring it to fit his frame.

Spotting a nearby mirror, Marek studied his reflection with a mixture of detachment and unease. The blood marring his fair complexion and blond hair, coupled with the shadows under his eyes and the cold, empty stare, would likely send chills down the spine of even the most seasoned adult.

Though his appearance differed vastly from his Ajekreian self, Marek remained convinced that anyone familiar with him from that world would recognize him in an instant.

[Milord, people might arrive soon. It's best to leave under the cover of night.]

"I know."

The pursuers seeking Anastasia's capture could arrive at any moment.

Taking a deep breath, Marek wiped the blood from his face and trimmed his bangs slightly. Splashing water over his features, he forced a small, reassuring smile onto his lips.

As the door to the storage room creaked open, Marek entered cautiously, flicking on the light to survey his surroundings. His eyes quickly landed on Anastasia, bound and gagged.

Hurrying to her side, Marek gently splashed water on her face, hoping to rouse her from her state of shock.

"Hm!" Anastasia's eyes fluttered open, her body tensing as she attempted to move.

"Shh," Marek hushed her, placing a finger to his lips with a grave expression.

Anastasia's initial panic subsided slightly upon realizing that her captor was not a grown man, but another child like herself. However, the trauma of her abduction still lingered, evident in her continued struggles.

With a sigh, Marek decided to intervene. "No other choice. Third Rank Spell."

[Milord, it's risky–]

"Silence, Prometheus."

Placing his hand gently on Anastasia's head, Marek invoked the spell "Cool Mind." A soothing white glow emanated from his hand, enveloping Anastasia and easing her distress. Gradually, her resistance melted away as a sense of tranquility washed over her, overshadowing the memories of her ordeal.

A genuine smile graced Marek's lips as Anastasia calmed under the spell's influence, despite the pain and strain evident in his own body. 

"Do you remember your name?" Marek asked gently, removing the gag from Anastasia's mouth.

"A…Anasta…sia…" Anastasia replied with a broken voice.

"Do you remember anything about your family?" Marek asked another question. 

Anastasia shook her head, her expression haunted by uncertainty.

Good. Because I have no intention to hand you over to anyone else.

He believed that the safest place for Anastasia was by his side, a conviction born not only of arrogance but of conviction. Even if it wasn't the case, he wanted her by his side—just a selfish desire of his in the end.

With care, Marek freed Anastasia from the ropes binding her limbs, assisting her to a seated position.

"We must leave before others arrive," Marek declared, wiping the blood from his lips, ears, and nose with a subtle use of a Third Rank Spell.

Anastasia's sudden grip on Marek's sleeves drew his attention, her tear-filled eyes searching his face.

"Who... am I?" she choked out, her voice trembling with fear.

"..." Marek looked down silently at her.

Anastasia's grip tightened, her desperation visible as she posed another question, her voice strained with emotion. "Who are you... to me?"

This time, Marek smiled as he extended his hand. "Consider me something like family. A brother, if you wish."

Anastasia's reaction was profound, her fear and confusion momentarily assuaged by the notion of kinship, even if it might be a fabricated lie. Yet, she found hope in Marek's words, sensing an honesty and sincerity that eased her troubled heart after not remembering anything except her name.

Tears welled in Anastasia's eyes as she gratefully accepted Marek's hand, finding comfort in its warmth and strength.

As they exited the storage room, Anastasia's gaze fell upon the blood-stained ground and the headless—

"Don't." Marek acted swiftly, guiding Anastasia's head to rest on his shoulder, shielding her from the gruesome sight.

"W–What... happened?" Anastasia managed to ask, her voice trembling.

"Some rival gang attacked," Marek explained calmly. "They slaughtered everyone and fled. I managed to escape and found you. Here, wear this."

Marek draped a cloak over Anastasia's head, concealing her too catchy features amidst the danger of the slums.

"What... about... the others..." Anastasia's voice faltered as she asked about the fate of the other children she had glimpsed.

"I didn't see them. They probably ran away," Marek replied smoothly, masking any hint of hesitation in his response.

If they were lucky they would be found first by the knights otherwise it would be other gangs. Their survival was inconsequential to his own escape, and he had no intention of involving himself further in their plight. Two children in cloaks would attract enough attention already.

"Don't strain yourself to speak," Marek reiterated gently. "I'll search for water and food, but first, we need to leave this place."

"Th-Thank... you..." Anastasia nodded weakly. 

As they approached the entrance, Marek paused, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding darkness. The moon's feeble rays barely pierced the blackness, casting an eerie glow.

Even in daylight, this place didn't offer much comfort, let alone at night. Marek couldn't shake the unease that settled over him, memories of Arthur notwithstanding. It was unusual for children like him to be out so late.

Where could this be? 

Marek wondered, his mind racing. While it seemed logical that this location was near Anastasia's country, Marek knew better. She had been captured in her homeland but then transported by ship to the Holy Continent.

Though Marek was certain they were on the Holy Continent, pinpointing their exact location proved elusive. He wished he could summon one of his Apostles immediately, but checking Prometheus' hidden Command revealed that the conditions weren't entirely met, despite his recent actions that fulfilled most of them.

Even if Prometheus was there, Marek doubted how much help he could offer in his current state. And while he was confident in his ability to handle most threats in the area, he hesitated to resort to violence, especially in front of Anastasia, who had already endured so much trauma.

Contrary to her fate in the Game, Marek desired a peaceful and different life for Anastasia now that he held control. She was still pure and untainted by the true cruelty of the world so why would he throw her in that world willingly?

He would never do that to her.

Whatever.

Tightening his grip on Anastasia's hand, he grasped the hilt of his concealed dagger with his other hand.

I have seen worse in Ajekreia.