Up ahead, they saw two shadows, one taller than the other. And beyond that, amidst the moonlight, there danced two figures, engaged in a vicious battle.
The crow let out a victory cry as they grew nearer and sped into the sky, escaping. Greeves reached to slash it with his knife, but the bird was long gone, apparently having achieved its objective.
"Well, this is fucking ominous," Greeves muttered to himself. But since they were here anyway, he dared to approach those figures. There was nothing to fear regardless, not when Judas was by his side – there wasn't a man for miles around that could best him. Apparently sensing that there was danger in the air, Judas unhooked his axe from his hip and carried it low by his side.
As they neared, the two figures turned, showering them in animosity.
The smaller of the figures took a step back, hiding behind the first, in his straw hat.
"Merchant..." Came an irritated whisper. "To think you'd come as well."
"And who might you be?" Greeves asked as he neared. Then he noticed a flash of red hair behind the figure, as he stood there menacingly. "Ah, who's that? That's pretty little Nila, isn't it? Well, good evening to you, sweetheart. Whatcha doing out here this late at night?
Taking a stroll? Mm?" It was only then that he could make out the figures doing battle a short distance away. The first thing he noticed was the sword – what was once his merchandise. Then he noticed a boy, then he noticed a monstrous Hobgoblin.
"From the look on your face, now you understand. If you're here, you'll stand there quietly. Distract the boy and I will kill you both," the man said threateningly.
Judas stepped forward, his axe in hand. "Watch how you speak to the boss, old man," he warned.
"This isn't good..." Nila murmured, her voice cracking. "Are you really going to leave him like this?"
Dominus frowned, a troubled look on his face. "I swore I wouldn't interfere... I will keep my word."
Beam grunted as he shifted out of the way, barely dodging the sword of the Hobgoblin as it swung at him. It slammed into the ground, causing a tremor.
Fear permeated every cell in his body. His whole being screamed out in fear of the impending death. Pain wracked his leg, as he forced it far beyond what he was currently capable of, in a desperate bid to stay alive.
They'd been at it for five minutes already, a desperate struggle, far longer than any such intense fight was want to go on for – especially when one side was so dominant.
But, surprising even himself, Beam was holding on. He lacked his strength; he lacked his speed and yet, somehow, even as blow after blow clattered into his body and blood poured from his busted lip and swollen eye, he still managed to defend.
In that sea of fear, in that atmosphere of overwhelming pressure, he felt the same floating darkness of void as he had in the river. Well, not quite the same – but there was a similarity to it. His fear came tainted with a heavy nostalgia that seemed to slow time itself, as though this here, these moments so close to death, as though he'd been here before.
And in truth, he had, though he hadn't felt it with his previous encounters with the other Hobgoblins. Perhaps, because some part of his being still had clung to hope then – a hope that Dominus would arrive and save his life the moment it became clear that he could not win.
Now there was nothing like that. There was no salvation. There were only red eyes, bulging green muscles and a massive swinging blade. The creature sought to split him in two this time. Beam eyed it carefully through his uninjured eye. It seemed slower than before – only slightly though.
Perhaps the Hobgoblin was tiring, or perhaps Beam was finally growing accustomed to movements.