A Gorgeous White

Cloaked by the storm of beasts that encircled but dared not come near him, golden and mighty, the man stood. He gave no ounce of his strength yet. It was his presence that terrified the monsters, soaked in his poisonous horrendous air that the lord indifferently produced. The shouts of vengeance and cries of battle hazily came to his hearing. For his men, they believed the creatures were slowly fearful of their blades and noises. However, they were only peeling off a delicate layer from the thick wave of the swarm. 

Lord Hercullio's mind wasn't with his men. They are elsewhere, searching and nudging at the depths of his spirit where he tugged at the tiny golden bond, tying his life to another. He carefully unraveled the sensations the bond gave him from the other side. Fear, confusion, and denial?...

A moment later, Hadrian clutched the hilt of his sword, black as midnight. At last, he withdrew his blade from his sheath let it gleam within the darkness. He turned his heels and headed for the archway to the inner fortress. Some of the men noticed his sudden departure and hastily called for him. 

"My Lord?" 

"Let him go." Emlen spoke hoarsely to the knight nearby. His wounds weren't too painful anymore, and Jagra yielded to his argumentative stare. " He knows this side of the swarm has become bearable. We can take care of the rest. When it gets complicated, he'll return."

No one questioned him further, and resumed taking care of the surrounding malibreeds. Their weapons sliced through bone, scale, and flesh. The two pieces of the mutated female malibreed in the distance caught Emlen's attention. He stared at it deeply, recalling the sense of helplessness still lingering in his heart. Then the slash of that gem-like sword, cutting it into two. Emlen averted his gaze and picked up his sword. 

'Hadrian better find Moulin,' Emlen clenched his jaw before he charged to battle. 'Or else I'll never accept him.'

........

"My Lord!" A maeruthan and an elf came running towards Hadrian after they finished blocking one of the open hallways. Hadrian glanced at them. 

"The vaults are secured, and the people have evacuated." The elf reported, respectful and straightforward.

"The hidden entrances of the east?" Hadrian narrowed his eyes. 

The two warriors looked at each other and shook their heads, "It's been checked. There are no more people."

A heart hardened. Hadrian nodded to them before he went off. His steps are loud and exposed, echoing in the tunnels of every creature's ears. The grip on his sword is ruthless, as though it was crushing it in punishment. A bloodthirsty rage came over his hand, and he did not think clearly as he cleaved his way through the monsters impeding him. He tugged at the soulbond like a lost wanderer clutching into a ruined map for hope. 

'If Kier had failed...' The world seemed to darken as Hadrian didn't finish his own thoughts. 

When he cut down the last foolish malibreed in his path, he paused briefly. Perception buzzing like a drumroll in his ears. 

Within the darkness of the hallway, a vague figure approached hastily. 

Hadrian brought out his hand. Crackles of violent electricity surged around his palm. His golden eyes narrowed dangerously. 

Whoosh!

A large white beast moved past Hadrian at high speed. There is a strong gust of wind at his right. Claws screeched against the floor behind, forcibly halting its movements. 

Out of the blue, a large-mouthed creature came crawling into the hallway. Its wings were broken, but it was quick on its feet. Two rows of razor-sharp teeth and a long slithering tongue drenched in black slime bared itself as it charged toward the man in its path. 

In a flash, it met the cold merciless beam of gold, piercing a giant hole through its head and vaporizing its flesh and bones. It fell limp in the next second, sliding to a stop towards the tips of Lord Hercullio's boots. The golden-eyed man sheathed his sword indifferently.

Hadrian narrowed his gaze, aware of the presence behind him. He didn't turn around to look. 

"Snow..."

The Opallian beast behind him wagged its tail. There are two people on its back, clutching the beast's fur, unable to dismiss the frightful experience a few seconds ago. 

"My-My Lord..." Eilhara stuttered as she carefully climbed down Snow's back. Arcefi followed. His emotions weren't less chaotic than the princess's. 

Finally, Hadrian turned around. His expression didn't change even when he met their troubled eyes. He turned to Snow. Moulin wasn't with him.

"My Lord, we have urgent news..." Arcefi hurried to explain. He clumsily dug into the pockets of his robes and hastily pulled out the tiny object within his grasp. "The young master, Moulin, found the last fragment. We must bring this to the oracle immediately!"

"Moulin..." Hadrian's attention wasn't on the little key of hope within the elf's dainty palm but on the one named he mentioned. He grabbed the seed and averted his gaze. "Leave the area. Go to the vaults. I will find him."

Arcefi furrowed his brows. Inwardly, he felt that they weren't talking about the same person. "B-But, My Lord. Gala'En needs-"

Hadrian shot him a dark look. Golden eyes swirled with hostility. His gaze spoke what didn't need to be said. Arcefi swallowed his words, trembling in his heart. He unconsciously took a step back. 

"Arcefi, come..." Eilhara quickly interfered. She gently tugged at the purifier's arm. "We must go..." 

Eilhara couldn't mistake the threat from the High Lord's gaze. There was only one person who could calm this silent beast, a treasured one. They mustn't interfere. He was far higher than them, even within the walls of their territory. 

"Please, be safe, your excellency." Eilhara spoke. 

Hadrian only glanced at them before turning to Snow. "Bring them to the vaults."

Snow whined yet was unable to refuse. With his snout, he nudged each elf. Eilhara carefully climbed on Snow's back. Arcefi followed reluctantly. His leg swung over the width of the Mystic Beast's back, and he lowered his head, staring at his weak dirt-stained hands. His thoughts were unknown as they departed. 

Lord Hercullio turned. Gloom enshrouds his being. Anyone who looked at him would retreat, afraid. 

He took out his sword. The dark blade reflected the golden glare of his pupils. Then he entered the dim hallway. The sunken desire silently scorched his insides. 

......

A deserted banquet halls echoed the chaos beyond its walls. Sometimes, it caught the screams of agony and the thunderous cries of bloodshed. The beautiful crystal chandelier which brought beauty to the vast interior now laid waste on the cracked wood-polished floor. Crystal fragments spread all over the surface. 

In the silence, a sudden flash of light illuminated the halls. It burned like the golden licks of an embroidered sun. The light faded quickly, and a large dark-haired beast appeared, descending hard from the high ceiling. The golden-blood wolf landed heavily on the floor, causing four web-like cracks to break the wood beneath its body.

Kier panted, huffing loudly as he finally felt the exhaustion. He consumed mana too much.

On his back, a slender figure raised its torso. He breathed heavily. Silver pupils, quivering. He looked around, scanning his surroundings and feeling the soft fur underneath his fingers. It took him a few moments to realize that he was temporarily away from danger. Swallowing, Moulin hugged Kier's back and gave himself a few seconds to clear his mind and calm his heart. 

But how can he be calm?

'Alsander... It was Alsander...'

'Just what happened?...'

His mind is screaming desperately. However, there was no one to answer him. 

Kier made a sound. He lowered himself to the ground slowly. Somehow, he was aware of Moulin's troubled emotions. 

Moulin furrowed his brows and smiled faintly before he raised his head. A shuddering sigh escaped his lips as he stroked Kier's head. "Hadrian asked you to come for me, didn't he?"

Kier huffed in response. His golden haze affirmed Moulin's question. 

Nodding, Moulin finally lifted himself off Kier. His body slid off almost wearily, slipping slightly as his feet met the floor. Relief washed over him as he felt the solid ground beneath his feet. The hardness under his soles almost made him want to kneel and kiss the floor. Thankfully, Kier steadied him on his feet.

Moulin patted the wolf's head dotingly.

Bang!

The sudden noise caused him to raise his guards immediately. The temperature within the halls lowered drastically. Moulin's attention shifted to the end of the halls, where a small door was forcibly opened on the wall. 

"Don't make me force you! Listen to me!"

"Shut up! Let me go! I am not losing anyone again!"

"You'll die!"

"He's my brother!"

Moulin's eyes widened. These voices...

When the two finally sensed another presence within the area, they abruptly stopped, shifting their attention. The two people froze, recognizing the familiar aura within the cold halls.

"Moulin?" Phaelona called.

"Phaelona, Colahn..." Moulin hurriedly approached the two. Kier trailed behind him. His large figure followed like a possessive predator.

"Young master!" Colahn hastily neared Moulin, scanning the youth's poor state. "Are you hurt anywhere? You must be treated immediately!"

" I'm fine.." Moulin shook his head, giving a don't smile. Afterwards, he turned to Phaelona, as pale as a person near death. The youth's gaze narrowed.

"What happened? Tell me..."

Colahn sighed, "Young master-"

"It's Nael!" Phaelona spoke with reddened eyes. She, who had always looked so confident and bright, was tearing her soul apart. Her fingers trembled violently. "Gala'En's core. He felt an intrusion and separated himself from us."

Moulin's blood froze as the words entered his ears.

However, Phaelona doesn't stop.

"The core is being invaded."