A few hours ago, when the morning breeze had brushed the tips of the long grass and caressed the feathery leaves of the trees, with a sword within its sheath, a man walks solemnly. His shadow, cast upon the dry ground as the sunrise brightened the sky.
He felt the cool breeze brush his face. He breathes in it. Relief seems to flood in his heart but he knew it was only momentary. Golden eyes seemed to glow as he gazes towards the small but ahead of him. Hadrian, with a hand on his scabbard, approached the small house where his injured subordinate stayed. Hadrian had awoken much earlier than Moulin. After making sure his beloved was comfortably sleeping, Hadrian left the house to head to the healer's hut to visit Ordan.
The curtains parted revealing the interior of the room. Sitting on one of the wooden chairs of the room was Lord Cillius. The man, surprised by the sudden visit, instantly moved to stand up and bow to his master. Hadrian shook his head and instead let the man stay on his seat aware of the distinctive character of his friend to always bear the pain.
"Good morning, your excellency. I wasn't expecting your visit..." Ordan bowed his head.
Hadrian nodded to him and asked, "How is your injury?"
"Healing. The bone is recovering. I will be able to move freely after a few days."
"Good, we will set off after your recovery..." Hadrian glanced at Ordan's leg and began to drag a chair for him to sit.
Ordan didn't expect that Hadrian would want to leave the village so soon. Although It was true that they could not stay here for too long, Ordan thought that they would perhaps spend a few weeks here. But if it was Lord Hercullio's will then Ordan could not refuse.
Perhaps... Does he have a plan?
"Milord, is there something on your mind?" He asked.
Hadrian glances at him impassively. "The seashells these nagas had obtained from the merfolk tribe can generate mana. We can utilize these shells to power the conveyor bands."
"The conveyer bands?" Ordan raised his brows. "but with the distance between Skilis and Meian... It is impossible... We would not be able to communicate with our people in Thundralln with such a vast distance..."
"We don't need to communicate. Once the bands are activated, our location can be determined. This may be the only chance we got..." Hadrian narrowed his eyes as he stared at Ordan. Feeling as though he had offended the man before him, Ordan lowered his head and quietly acknowledged the Lord's plan.
"The second thing I want to discuss with you involves the retrieval of our abilities..." Hadrian spoke calmly. There was a sudden feeling of tightness in his chest but he chose to ignore it. Hadrian gazed at Ordan patiently.
Ordan lowered his gaze with a nod, "I have done what you have ordered, Milord. I spoke with the healer about our circumstance involving the loss of our ability. We will need to remove the poison before it will sever our spiritual veins from the accumulation of the functional mana in our mana core that would collide with the stagnant mana in our spiritual veins. Our best option would be consuming a herb that would remove the poison in our bodies... However, we do not know if there are any herbs strong enough to remove the poison..."
"I will speak with the chieftain of the tribe regarding that matter-" Hadrian frowned when a piercing pain erupts in his head. He stopped and raised a hand to hold his head. Scorching heat began to sear its way through his veins. The wooden surface of the table beneath his palm cracked under the pressure of his hand.
"My lord, are you alright?" Ordan struggled to stand up as he noticed the unusual paleness of Hadrian's face.
Hadrian raised a hand and he stood up from his seat. With a hand grasping his head, he struggles to steady his breathing. "I will leave. Do not allow anyone near the forest on the west side of the tribe. Inform the chieftain..."
With those words, he left the hut. His footfalls were heavy as he walked farther away from the place. It was starting. He had thought, his mana surges wouldn't happen within a few months. Perhaps, it was because of the restriction of his mana. It could restrain all of his energy, thus the accumulation triggers the surge.
A memory flashed in his mind and he was too powerless to resist it. The taste of grime on his lips as he was trampled to the ground. Poisonous smoke burning his lungs, draining away his life. The conniving smiles of the people who tortured his mind for years...
Hadrian gritted his teeth as his hands trembled with resentment. Golden eyes burned with hate. Smoldering with the urge to hunt and kill.
The nearest tree that his hand could reach was crushed under his strength. Splinters flew in the air when he realizes that he finally reached the forest. Even the air he breaths seemed to burn his inside. The only way to lessen the pain was to release his oppressive aura. It would give him a moment of relief during the neverending suffering.
The sword was still with him. Driven mad, he would wield this sword to destroy...
Searing pain. The veins in his head throbbed. He could taste blood on his tongue.
Release...
He needs to release everything...
An agonizing grunt escapes his throat.
......
"Where's Hadrian?"
Silver hair stuck to his forehead as sweat dampened his skin. His eyes were filled with worry as he spoke. Moulin huffed as Snow and Keir confusingly stayed by his side, perceiving the worry of their master.
Ordan who had confronted Moulin as soon he returned, began to explain the situation. "The lord's mana became destructive. His mana surges are starting. I already told the chief to vacate the-"
"Where Is He?" Moulin repeated with serious eyes.
"..." Seeing Moulin's unyielding countenance he could only sigh and respond. "He is in the forest, west of the village..."
At those words, Moulin immediately turned his heels
"Wait! You shouldn't get near him!" Ordan reached out to grab Moulin only for the youth to swat his hand away.
"Don't stop me..." Moulin hissed.
"No, you don't understand." Ordan hastily explained. "His mana surge influences his rage and hostility. Anything or anyone that gets close to him will be annihilated by his hand. He is not himself. You are the last thing he wants to see in this situation."
"Don't get in my way, Lord Cillius. I am aware of what is happening to him. Mana surge or not, he is Lord Hadrian Hercullio. He is my lord. I know what I'm doing..."
"Do you? He carries a sword." Ordan narrows his eyes. "He will cut you and perhaps he will end your life without realizing it..."
"He won't hurt me..." Moulin softens the glare in his eyes as he spoke. "I believe in him..."
"..."
Ordan could do nothing to the affection that was used against him. Witnessing the determined look in the youth's eyes, he could only submit to it. Those eyes were powerful. Resisting it was futile. With a sigh, he held the hilt of his sword and face Moulin. "I will go with you..."
"The aura will suffocate-"
"I am aware but I will not have Lord Hadrian hurt the one he cherishes. I fear the world would end if he truly accomplishes it..."
"He won't. He will know it's me..." Moulin reasoned.
Ordan knitted his brows. He only hoped that nothing would truly happen. The nagas would be devastated by the destruction that Lord Hercullio would bring. Possibly, they would be named the cursed ones in a heartbeat when the news reaches their ears.
"Let's go..." Moulin began to walk towards the west side of the village. White silver strands were swept by the harsh cold wind as the youth walked with piercing eyes. Lord Ordan follows him from behind as the skies turned increasingly dark. The naga children began to retreat their homes with fearful eyes as perilous lightning flashed within the dark skies. The wind sang with violence. Heavy rain at the verge of pouring around the small village.
Moulin became anxious as he hastened his steps. He felt the madness from the strikes of the wind and the anger from the thundering skies.
He only hopes to be able to ease his lover and calm the turmoil within him.
•••
Twigs snapped beneath his steps. The pointy edges of the leaves gave an itchy feeling as it grazes his skin. The sound of fleeing birds rang in Moulin's ears as he searched the forest. Ordan, with his injured legs, struggled to follow Moulin. He endured the stinging pain from his leg and emotionlessly observed the anxious youth in front of him.
Delicate fingers caressed a cracked part of a tree. The dents on it were the clue Moulin needs. Hadrian was near. He began to run into the forest, noticing every part of his surroundings that was crushed or wrecked.
The oppressive aura began to suffocate them to the point of choking the more they traveled deeper within the forest.
Moulin kept going and going. Anxious and uncertain. There were doubts in his heart but his need to find Hadrian was stronger.
Emerging at the edge of a forest, he found himself in a clearing. Or should he say what was previously a healthy part of the forest.
The trees were sliced clean, rocks were crushed, and rain began to pour. The sullen atmosphere was almost heart-wrenching. The rain fell on Moulin and the youth tried his hardest to keep himself calm as he watched the lone figure several meters before him.
The rain had drenched the golden strands on the man's hair. He had torn his clothes, revealing the rippling muscles of the man's back that faced the youth's gaze. Blood dripped down from the hilt of the sword within the man's clenched hand. It tainted the ground in crimson.
A few seconds passed and Moulin finally found his voice despite the terrifying aura surrounding the area.
"H-Hadrian..."
Golden eyes flashed as the head whipped to look behind his shoulder. The madness in his mind influenced him. Driving him to swing his sword.
Moulin watched as the black tip of the blade was hurled towards him. It cut through the air, aiming at his throat.
He instantly pulled his shoulder back and the sword wooshed past at an alarming speed. It ruthlessly pierced through a tree.
Silver eyes widened in disbelief...