Homecoming | sequel of "Home" [✔️]

Chapter 15

The door glowed red hot, like molten metal. Bakar backed up, wary of the sudden intrusion. He raised his fists, fumbling to bring himself into a fighting stance as the pounding outside got louder.

Though the darkness shadowed his expression, his fear was not hidden. Was this another attack? He thought, clenching his fists tighter. He was unarmed, defenseless. What could he do against—

A body crashed through the melting door, the silhouette of a young child skidding on the metal ground like nails on a chalkboard. He left a black skid mark, crashing into the wall beside Bakar. The wall dented, leaving a hole larger than his body size.

Bakar was quick on his feet, shooting towards the young boy in instinct. "Ali!" He shrieked. There was no blood or bruises on Ali, but that's not something to be expected, even from a supernatural power wielder, especially having taken a harsh blow.

The scent of smoke hung in the air. He could catch the hint of singed iron and distant ionizing smoke.

The boy himself did not present the factor of life, head drooping to the right, his body rigid. He himself barely reacted to the attempt of assault, arms hanging by his side and legs spread out. Even from a small distance, Bakar could feel the unsettling warmth emitting from the child. It reminded him of a dying furnace, cooling off its boiling temperatures.

His eyebrows furrowed, his lip twitching. His eyes darted between the penetrated door and the boy, his instincts screaming at him to protect him with his body, his life, and everything he's got. Rubber soles screeched on metal, the air around his face suddenly warm with frantic breaths that are his own. In front of the empty space, arms touching the light that poured from outside, he spread his arms out to the unknown, shielding the young child with his own life.

Silence and peace greeted him instead. Ali's breaths were shallow, but Bakar's breathing was labored and uneven. All he could hear were the hum of the lights, and the whispers from afar. For a moment, he thought he had won, that he'd frightened the attacker with his actions.

His limbs were stiff, cracking as he turned around. His shadow loomed over the unconscious boy, concern creeping into cracks of his expression. His muscles tensed as he knelt, knee pressing onto the cooling steel floor, his jeans moving to adjust to his posture.

Bakar's gaze was unreadable, brows furrowing and unfurrowing, intentions darting between pain, grief, or conflict. He clenched his teeth, frowning at the boy in concern, as if remembering the obstacles they'd faced together, once upon a time. His eyes were not the way he should looked at family, or friends; instead, it was torn, staring at someone who used to be his light, now destroyed and reduced to a destructor of his world.

It was disappointment.

His eyes widened as he heard the flash of metal. He whirled around, adrenaline gushing, breath hitching, and felt the cold, thin blade of metal in his lower back. The pain came almost instantly, attacking his senses as his muscles clenched, digging into the unforgiving weapon unwillingly. Thick, warm blood trickled from the wound, sinking into his clothes.

The blade was pulled out swiftly, which Bakar gasped in surprise. Blood spurted from his wound, pouring down the back of his legs like a scarlet fall. Shell-shocked and wounded, he whirled around, but he fell to his knees as the ache of his wound.

A shadow of a teen fell over him. They wielded a fine blade, the tips dropping with blood, droplets falling to the floor like warm rain in a summer's day. Only it was anything but warm, and it was nowhere near the bright lights of day. The closest equivalent was the blinding shine of the sword, reflecting trickles of blood.

"Who are you?" Bakar grunted. Pain screamed in his mind, urging him to roll all over the floor and curl up and cry in pain. His fists were clenched, teeth gritting, yet still finding the determination to glare up at his attacker, glare seething with hate and anger.