The Pseudo Semicolon

CHAPTER 24: Justice?

Akira was panting heavily as he ran through the woods, feet crunching the twigs below as only one thought ran through his head. Please let them be alive.

He recalled Maximilian's plea, about not being like the Elites. Now why would he have written that unless he was afraid of Devland going off the rails when he found out the truth? Why hadn't Akira connected the dots before?

Slender branches extended like boney hands, grazing his cheek and almost making him topple over. Fear gripped his heart with a vice-like force, making it difficult to breathe properly.

He finally appeared over the manhole and took off some parts of his costume that would slow him down. Then, with his phone in his mouth, he carefully climbed down, his steps echoing through the dark tunnel. He jumped into the muddy water, wading through it with all his strength, Akira stumbled onto dry land on all fours, taking a moment to breathe before he was running again, towards what he was hoping weren't dead bodies.

Akira stuttered to a stop in front of a curtain, blocking the view of the cavern. With ragged breaths, he opened it, taking a slow step inside.

"AKIRA! HELP!" Charlie shrieked before dissolving into coughs. Akira's stomach turned at the sight of all the Elites; They were all chained to different places, but not so far that they couldn't touch each other. An empty plate stood in the middle of their circle.

The Elites weren't in any better condition; expensive clothes torn and battered, face scratched and bloody as their limbs were tied tightly by a heavy iron chain. Their eyes were wild and filled with hunger, mouths dry and cracked. Akira had never seen them look so... pathetic, so powerless.

When Akira heard footsteps behind him, he turned to look at the owner of it, a humourless laugh escaping his lips as he felt like his whole mind was tearing itself apart. "Devland—what is all of this?"

"The Elites chained and trapped and hungry." Devland replied, and Akira involuntarily flinched due to the coldness in his tone.

"HE POISONED US!" Jason screeched, "DRAGGED US HERE—AKIRA YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE US!"

"You give me too much credit, Jason." Devland barked a laugh, "I had some help."

"Who? Who helped you?" Akira asked, though he had an inkling of an idea. Devland gazed into Akira's eyes, his face blank and emotionless. Akira hated seeing him like this.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow moving from one Elite to another, slowly snaking its way around the cavern. It belonged to no one—a huge pitch-black shadow of a creature that sprouted two horns from the top. It stopped, facing Akira.

Ghostly tendrils stretched from the creature, desperate arms edged with claws extended from the shadow. Akira screamed and stumbled back in fear.

But his blood ran cold when he looked down and saw a hand through his stomach.

Akira started choking, blood dripping down from the edges of his mouth. A certain sense of dread, grief and hunger took over him and—no, he was back there again, back on the dirty streets with blood splattered on the walls. He was a little boy again, numb with hunger and his breath shallow. There wasn't fear in him, there was only acceptance, acceptance of the fact that he wouldn't even live long enough to see the sun set.

"The Devil..." Akira whispered as he saw the formless creature in all its glory. A huge monster with curved horns appeared; its face was dripping from its skull, blood and skin splattering on the ground with a sick squelch, its eyes were glowing spheres of white with tiny veins of black snaking its way through it. It's chest was bare, ripped open so Akira could see its ribs and its beating black heart. Its legs still hadn't formed yet—maybe it was because the last sacrifice hadn't happened yet—but then how did he get so powerful?