VOXISTALE: Novel Edition

Chapter 135

Nikolai Vaspetin found himself leaning more and more into meditation. His injuries were grievous—or to make it clearer, his injury, singular. Undyne, whatever had been coursing through her, had packed quite the punch. Not once in Nikolai's long life had he ever known the experience of his skin being pierced, let alone his entire abdomen being impaled. To make matters worse, the wound was magically held open for reasons nobody seemed to understand. The only thing holding his guts inside his stomach was the cloth and cast structured around his waist. At least the bleeding could be contained, but even so, he'd lost so much blood . . . Never had he felt so weak. It was frustrating to feel this way when one spends their entire life being the top dog. Being unchallenged. Being physically superior to all. Undyne had been his match, he was certain of it. He'd never felt so alive, so excited—and he'd won.

Now Jonathan asked he guard the fire elemental withering away in cold storage, chained to the wall. Torture was pointless without purpose, Nikolai understood that. It was Krashna who had insisted the fire monster endure this. There was nothing to gain, but Nikolai had not argued. He had other things to worry about. Rubbing a hand over his face, Nikolai could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, moving quickly to the medical wing, where the leader sat alone. Slowly, he took a deep, long breath, and exhaled equally as long, and equally as deep. The purpose Jonathan had placed him here was for this. To await the arrival of the traitor and the child. That's what the Father had called them. Wasn't hard to guess who they were.

Rotating his shoulders, Nikolai rose from the cot he'd been sitting on. Save for the baggy pants covering his waist and legs, and his bandaging, he was naked, his scarred body on full display. "YA zhivu kak umirayu . . ." he muttered to himself, grabbing a half-smoked cigarette from a nearby footstool and the lighter beside it, proceeding to light what he presumed to be his final smoke. "Bez raka legkikh."

"Nikolai," a voice emerged from the hall that acted as an entrance to the medical wing. A voice coming from none other than one of Nikolai's former underlings, former experiments, and the only one that had managed to live long enough to come back and bite him in the ass. The leader let out a puff of smoke from his lips, which lingered in the air for a moment as he spoke.

"Nakonets-to ty pribyl, predatel'," the leader spoke quietly. Fuku couldn't understand what he was saying, but Raptor could. Everyone in the German sector of the Messiah was forced to learn Russian, only so that they could understand him.

"You know why we're here," Raptor spoke, deep green claws elongating from his fingers, appearing more jagged and sharp than earlier. "Tell us where your hostage is."

"Vy umny," Nikolai replied, taking a long drag from the cigarette. He closed his eyes as he held the smoke in his lungs, some drifting out of his nostrils before he let out a sigh. "Ty znayesh' gde," opening his eyes, he tossed his cigarette to the ground with the flick of his wrist.

"What's he saying?" Fuku asked, looking between Raptor and Nikolai.

"Your father," Nikolai spoke in broken English, his heavy accent leading his voice. "He is fire too, no? Fire no like cold," he gestured with his thumb to the large metal door, separating the medical wing from cold storage. "Zamorazhivaniye," he placed his foot down on the cigar, calmly snuffing it out. "Ty prishel ubit' menya, Raptor?" the leader asked, tilting his head to the side, audible cracks and pops sounding.

"That obvious?" Raptor asked sarcastically in response, his claws glinting as Nikolai rotated his head the other way.

"Togda ubey menya," he challenged.

"Hey," Raptor turned toward Fuku. "Go get your dad. The sooner the better," he suggested, stepping toward Nikolai. Fuku was quick to do just that, moving toward the metal door. Nikolai took a step toward her, but immediately backed up once Raptor took a step of his own.