Crimson liquid pooled beneath the hovering body. Eyes constricting, mouth choking out desperate gasps. The tight robes wrapping the elf's slender body was soiled and tainted with deathly red.

Moulin could not process the scene before him. His thoughts were filled with the idea of a life taken because of his indefinite words.

"No!" It was Eilhara who screamed out, instantly yanking Moulin from his dazed stupor and positioning him back to the present. He watched as the horned man's expressionless face, with a hint of ruthless disgust, as he threw away the limp body of Phuna's father. Landing with a loud thud as if he was boneless.

Disbelief and anger molded Moulin's face. The youth gnashed his teeth and zeroed his eyes at the horned creature. No words could escape his mouth. Driven by ferocity and the urge to avenge Phuna and her father. His swift feet moved in unimaginable speed like a launched arrow. Sharp and fast. His grip on his sword tightened, knuckles turning white. He charged towards the grey humanoid creature. Feet, as if tapping on the fragile yet strong floor mirror.

The horned man only stared as he drew closer. The dagger within his grasp grew longer and sharper, transforming into a sharp saber, He was not using the blade slung on his back. As if Moulin was no threat. Only a mere thing who could not use his abilities yet still try to mindlessly attack without a plan in mind. Reckless and youthful. Under the dimness, his eyes glowed ominously. With an impatient mind, he raised the red saber and sent a slash towards Moulin. The force made the floor crack, black chips of crystals scatter on the ground as a red slash charged towards Moulin.

Moulin abruptly paused his steps, the friction under his feet scraped the floor with a pitiless screech. However, he was barely able to evade the attack.

Boom! Crack!

It struck a step in front of him and exploded before his front. He was powerfully thrust back. Crashing heavily at a stoned pillar. Pain exploded in his body. The stone pillar cracked against the impact. Webbed cracks spilled on the stoned structure behind Moulin's body. A leak of red rose from his throat and the youth spat out blood. It stained his collar and dripped on the shattered floor. Moulin heaved and spat beside this foot as he sluggishly removed himself from the pitiful dent of the tilted pillar. An unyielding will emerged from his silver eyes.

"Moulin!" Eilhara stifled a scream. She was right beside the body of the stabbed elf. Taking advantage of the horned man's concentration on Moulin. She watched the horrific strength of a single attack and how it threw Moulin into the air.

Moulin ignores her and once again fixed his attention on the horned creatures slowly making his way towards him. The impact seemed to have woken him up and this time he thought carefully.

"Child..." Red eyes scrutinized the vulnerable looking figure staggering to stand up. The red saber glinted dangerously at its tip was dragged on the floor, scraping a line as the creatures walked. "... Come willingly and I will spare your dog and the female. More lives don't need to perish because of your unwillingness..."

Moulin narrowed his eyes, fingers trying to expel even a single wisp of cold air. But to no avail it was useless.

Shit! He cursed internally.

Why could he not use his ability? He was already beyond exhausted. He needed support. Was he so weak without his powers?

Out of nowhere, a ferocious roar resounded throughout the dark hall. The horned man stopped. His gaze didn't even flicker as it landed on the prowling form of the massive Mystic beast stepping between Moulin and him. Its teeth were bared to intimidate. The man impassively stared and once again his saber.

Moulin flinched. "Snow!-"

In less than a second, wind bursts on Moulin's face. He shielded with his arms.

Crash!

Opening his eyes, he saw the whimpering form of Snow's large body at the far side of the dark halls. Blood seeped from his silver-white coat. He lets out a pained whimper before falling.

"Snow?" Moulin choked out.

"Eyes here, Child..."

A shadow loomed over Moulin's frame. When Moulin shifted his gaze he saw a large hand swiftly reaching for his throat. By instinct, he avoided the grasp, and let his sword charge towards the man's chest.

Clang!

Moulin felt his heart thunder.

Unfortunately, the blade was seized by the man's hand. Moulin took the chance to kick away the man's hold of his saber, letting it spin upwards. With a dangerous gleam in his eyes, Moulin caught the saber, swinging it to ruthlessly slash on the horned man's furred back.

Rip!

A sharp turn and the red blade ferociously tore the furred cape. It failed to even scratch the flesh of Moulin's opponent. The youth gritted his teeth as he leaped back when a hand once again reached towards him. However, the grey fingers only managed to forcefully tear the fabric of Moulin's collar.

Moulin heaved. Chest rising and lowering as his silver eyes met glowing red ones filled with great disinterest. His fingers clenched around the glass hilt of the saber. Helplessness began to seep into his expression. Glowing blood-red pupils stared as if it could cut through his soul and devour him. Moulin felt powerless as if no matter what he did he could not escape. He felt he needed to move but his feet refused. Control was slipping through his fingers.

With a deep breath, Moulin did not remove his cautious gaze from the horned creature. He began to slowly step backward.

Crimson eyes filled with impatience lowered. The man turned to shatter the blade of Moulin's sword with a clench of his fingers. Metal shards fell on the mirrored floor with a sharp clutter. Moulin felt like if he had let the man wound his fingers around his neck, he would unhesitantly snap his head off.

"That doesn't belong to you..." The deep voice spoke. Gaze aiming at the red saber within Moulin's grasp.

Moulin clenched his teeth. A tremble of his grip on the saber.

Red eyes narrowed, "How stubborn..."

From the hand that held the saber, an ache erupted from within Moulin's palm. Like a pin piercing deep into his skin. He quickly released the saber but it morphed, steel transforming into something fluid and foggy like a soft floating liquid. It stretched around Moulin's hand, swiftly curling around the slender fingers. When it touched the vulnerable skin, it felt like he was harshly rubbed by an urchin. It pricked his skin as if it wanted to draw blood. Moulin grunted and began to flick it off his wrist. The pain was excruciating as if his soul was being drilled.

He glanced behind him where Eilhara was worriedly staring at him with trembling shoulders. His eyes shifted to Snow who was shaking, slumped on the floor.

"Gh!..." He clutched his wrist tightly with his other hand as he felt the black-red sludge surrounding his wrist, climbing upwards. The harrowing pain had finally reached his head. Cut it off. He wanted to cut it off if it could relieve the pain.

Unhurried footsteps headed towards him.

Intimidated, Moulin forced himself to step back at every step the man takes. Fear stabbed inside his chest. He lifted his gaze. He feared him. Yes, he truly feared the man before him.

However...

Moulin steeled his feet to the floor. He refused to take another step backwards. Where could he retreat? Retreat to leave behind the princess and Phuna's dying father? The last wisp of courage left in his body came to harden the firmness in the bright silver of his eyes. With no abilities, an exhausted body, the agonizing pain arising in his arm, Moulin hardened himself as he faced the man drawing near in front of him.

For the first time, the corner of the horned man's lips quirked up. The amused expression on that dreadful face gave Moulin slight oppression.

"I admire your courage..." The man spoke. Somehow Moulin felt the pain on his cloud-shrouded arm lessen. "But if you insist on being stubborn... Your little friends will die. I shall not be merciful..."

Moulin remembered how the blade mercilessly stabbed into Phuna's father. He swallowed.

"I promise no harm will come to them..." The crimson gaze glanced at Eilhara's trembling form. Her silver pupils shook as she stared at Moulin.

"I do not trust your words..." Molina replied.

"..." The creature threw him a confused gaze. "And yet you trust that little pet yours which led you here... A trap. Cornered and... weak." His voice sounded as if to coax. "You trust this princess who misled you... And this... elven man whose child you saved... Urging you to bring the key to this very hall..."

Realization came to Moulin. His fingers clenched.

With amusement in his deep tone, the horned man continued, "Do you not even realize the intention of what led you here? Of what you need to find?... "

Moulin paused. Silence engulfing him. His chest suddenly tightened. He feared the purpose of the voice's intention...

...

Why was he led here?

A grin stretched across the horned man's face. The scarred countenance appeared frightening but there was a hint of satisfaction as he believed he had hooked that youth. He lifted his chin. A collar-like tattoo revealed itself on that dull skin. Cords filled with impatience bulged from his neck. An arm was stretched towards Moulin. Large grey fingers with sharp black fingernails itched to just grab the youth's neck and drag him to his master immediately.

"Come... My master will tell you the answers you seek..." He took a tolerant step forward.

...

Moulin stared at the hand. A gruesome apprehension swept inside him. Yet, the offer was tempting. He was tired of chasing and thinking about what to find. Going after the Whys and the Whats were driving him insane. Sometimes he wished that everything would end quickly. He didn't have to wait for the answer to be brought to him. Indeed, it was tempting.

His eyes narrowed.

However, the blood spilled by this creature's hand was something Moulin could not forgive. Seeing the blood staining Snow's fur and thinking about Phuna's devastated expression inc the news of her father's death would reach her ears, Moulin could not bear it.

He steeled his expression and lifted his gaze. Determination surged into those eyes, "I refuse..."

He wished this time... the life who would be lost wasn't Eilhara or Snow's but his...

Silence descended between the horned man and Moulin. Outrage and bitterness swelled within those blood-red eyes.

Moulin winced when a wave of heavy malevolent ambiance engulfed the entire hall. The blue flames flickered into the color of red. Like the sudden shift of the color of moonflowers in the midnight gardens. The corrosive aura seemed to make anyone lethargic, drowning them in their own suffering. Eilhara pulled the elven man near her while enduring the influence of the aura.

"Agh!" Moulin moaned in pain when the dark cloud around his arm began to climb to his shoulder. He suppressed an agonizing scream as he shut his eyes close and gritted his teeth. His knees gave out, crashing on the cracked floor. The sharp edges digging into his knees, drawing blood.

"Stubborn wench..." muttered the man. He grabbed Moulin's hair, forcibly dragging Moulin forward. Moulin began to claw at the man's fingers despite the pain in his arm.

BOOM!!

The ceiling exploded. Wood and stones began to fall from the ceiling. A cloud of dust sweeps throughout the halls and the once dim halls were filled with natural light. The floor cracked even more under the heavy debris crashing on its's surface.

Moulin and his captor stopped. Their gazes shifted to where the beam of light fell.

The dust settled...

Ruthless golden eyes narrowed.