"Bidea itxita dago!" Wilfred cried out, which created a closing over the opening the third eye cakra had created.
My eyes bulged at the gray concrete wall where the hole should have been. The wall existed as if there hadn't been an opening at all.
"Amazing." I exhaled my awe and glanced about the place we had come out to. I realised we were in a large storage room of some sort.
Leinard ordered us to rest.
I carefully lowered myself to the slate ground with War still in my arms and rested his head on my lap. My attention moved to Wilfred's complaints about his burning eyes.
"Here," said Leinard as he, blindly, handed over a vial of clear liquid to Wilfred.
I noticed he was blinking madly and pouring drops into his eyes. Wilfred did the same thing with the vial that was handed to him.
"Side effect for using cakra magic," Jensen commented between moments of catching his breath. "Back there was no other way around it."
Leinard and Wilfred were able to recover from their ailments, but their eyes were heavily bloodshot.
I turned my head and winced at the sharp pain I felt running down my neck and arm, but I wasn't going to let on about it. My worries were more on War's condition.
I checked his forehead for warmth and was relieved to see his chest gently heaving. He was alive but showing no signs of consciousness.
Wilfred removed his overcoat and placed it around War's body. He checked his face for breath, searched the inside of his belt pouch for something and pulled out a wet patch, which he placed on War's forehead.
"This will moderate his temperature and restore some fluids until we arrive at a medical unit," Wilfred reassured me with a gentle pat on my shoulder.
"I bet ten daro I know why the skrit was going feral in the West Wing," Jensen said, offhandedly, as he slung his sprained arm to his chest with a roll of bandage, he had pulled out of his belt pouch.
"That's hardly a bet," Wilfred commented as he sat, at ease, with his back to the wall.
I frowned, perplexed.
"Skrit demons exist in pacts we call florets. They communicate telepathically through optical imagery. Magis and demons skilled in semblance magic can bend the will of a floret using a skill called image-binding. In doing so a contract is forged with the binder, that's how we've been able to control them as sentry points for the labyrinth tiers," Leinard explained as he took up the spot next to Wilfred.
My frown deepened. I still didn't get it.
"I think you're using too many big boy words, Fearless Leader." Jensen joked. "Surely you've not forgotten why the demon rejected him."
"I beg your pardon!" I snapped at the jest Jensen was having at my expense.
"Ho, seems you understand what I was saying." Jensen chuckled.
"If I'd say one thing is that Famine's strong luck compensates." Wilfred tried to negate Jensen's cheek, but it ended up fanning the flames.
"True, true. There is always a flip-side to everything. Famine being dumb means that he is filled with dumb luck." Jensen bellowed with hearty laughter at the sight of my pouting face.
Wilfred sighed and gave me a look of apology.
"Luck aside. I'm curious. What made you decide to shoot at the demon's book?" Leinard gently broached the subject that seemed to be nagging on his mind.
I relaxed my features and stared upwards as I thought back to the moment, I had picked up the gun.
"Um, dunno. Instinct I guess," I answered and yelped at the jovial mate slap I felt to my back from Jensen's hand.
"Bloody spot on instinct that is," Jensen said.
He squealed with fright when he saw Small Cap crawl out of my pocket to perch on to my shoulder.
"Whaddahell!" He fumbled around his belt, one-handedly, for his sais.
Wilfred stopped Jensen from pulling them out. "Relax. Look the creature is more frightened of you."
Jensen lowered his guard when he realised that Small Cap had retreated toward the nape of my neck; his body curled up with obvious fear.
"What is it?" he asked me.
"He's Small Cap." I introduced Small Cap to the men.
"A Delena Cancerides." Leinard added with forced calmness.
"A what?" Jensen gawked at Leinard.
"It's a spider, you dimwit!" Wilfred rolled his eyes.
"Before you laugh at others for being dumb, consider your own lack of intelligence."
I chuckled at the banter, which seemed to lighten the mood of the place.
"I think we can safely say that the skrit won't ambush us any time too soon." Leinard changed the subject back to our situation.
He checked the condition of War's feet.
"If we don't get him to a medical unit, his heart will stop," he stated soberly and softened his approach when he saw the worry on my face.
"We'll get him to one, don't worry." He reassured me.
"This is the moment where you appreciate your handsome Captain." Trix intruded on our conversation as he stepped into the room through the far end door.
He brought in three newcomers who unfolded a sling type stretcher and laid it out to the ground.
"Do not worry. We shall ensure not to add further stress to his body," said a softly spoken man with an angelic and youthful face whose brown eyes carried an impression of a polite smile.
Half of his mid-length light brown hair was tied back in a topknot, and the rest of his fine locks tumbled freely about his broad shoulders. He wore the same uniform as Jensen and Wilfred with the addition of a pair of sheathed iron daggers strapped around his left thigh.
"You did well. Leave him to us. We'll get him to a medical unit in time," said a confident woman who also wore the same uniform.
I met a pair of soft, almond, eyes carrying the most delicate brown hue I had ever come across.
Her bob of brown hair hung stylishly to her shoulders with her fringe swept over her dainty forehead and held back by a pair of daisy clips.
Although she was wearing the same uniform as Jensen and Wilfred, her pixie-like frame made the clothes appear far more feminine.
She was beautiful. There was no doubt. I soon realised, she was the first, real woman I came across in life. This fact stirred a deep blush all over my face.
As I looked on her countenance some more, I couldn't shake a feeling I had seen her before. I racked my brain on where and noticed her features held similarities to Wilfred's.
"You're Lita right?" I blurted to her and received a strange smile in response.
"Chet. I never realised your popularity went beyond the Fourth Tier," grumbled a sour-faced girl who would look pretty otherwise.
Her fine, blond, ponytail flicked to the other side of her shoulder when she turned her head with a huff.
I saw her features were smaller and the shape of her face more oval. The blue of her eyes and the shape of her mouth was unremarkable. Her gloveless hands were stockier with small callouses on her fingertips and the mounts of her palm.
Her curvaceous frame also made her appear effeminate in the uniform. Where Lita's impression leaned towards delicate hers was more of cool and spirited.
"Ignore the Onihime," Jensen said sarcastically.
I stood back and watched War being lifted in the sling-stretcher. He was carried out by Trix and the other man.
I followed behind the procession, hoping we'd reach a medical unit soon.
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