AmethYst

Chapter Twenty-One

Grey abruptly regained his balance midair, standing like an invisible force was supporting him from below. "What are you doing down there?" he shouted. "I'll check from above!" Meanwhile, Crimson and the Xeno Corpse members rushed into the forest where the creature had disappeared.

"What just happened?" Miles gasped as his knees hit the dirt, wiping his mouth. "Stay here!" Grey commanded, still floating in the air.

"But what if it comes back?" Miles exclaimed. Grey turned his back to Miles, his eyes filled with vengeance. "Then you kill it," he replied.

"What?" Miles shouted, kicking the dirt on the forest floor in frustration.

As the minutes crawl by, anxiety gnaws at Miles. Where are they? His heart races as he paces back and forth, frustration boiling over. "What the hell is taking so long?" he mutters, dread creeping into his thoughts. "Don't you dare die on me, Crimson. I need you to help me find her!"

With a sudden surge of determination, Miles inhales sharply and takes off in the direction the group had rushed, fueled by the moment's urgency. He's so caught up in the moment that he doesn't even see the figure ahead. In an instant, he collides with someone, the impact sending him tumbling to the ground. Dazed, he grips his head, trying to shake off the shock as adrenaline pulses through his veins.

"Owww! Can't you watch where you're going?" Miles exclaimed, his heart racing as he jolted awake. His eyes widened, taking in the sight before him—a little boy, unconscious on the floor, his clothes torn and tattered. Adrenaline surged through Miles as he quickly assessed the situation. "What the heck happened? Looks like he got knocked out from the collision. But what's a kid doing here, of all places?" he muttered, frustration building.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the predicament. "Now what am I going to do with you?" Miles said, glancing back at the boy. With a surge of determination, he hoisted the child onto his shoulder. "I've got to get back to the cabin. If I can't find Crimson or Grey soon, this is going to get a lot more complicated!"

With each hurried step, the urgency of the situation sent his pulse racing. The eerie silence of the surroundings felt charged with mystery, as he navigated through the forest, determined to uncover the truth behind this unexpected encounter.

Hours slipped away as Miles wandered deeper into the forest, the moonlight filtering through the towering trees and casting eerie shadows everywhere. Panic surged within him—"I should have just waited for them!" he exclaimed, frustration igniting his voice. He glanced down at the small boy on his shoulder.

"Sorry, kid," Miles started, but before the words could fully escape his lips, an unexpected twist unfurled. In a sudden flash of light, the little boy morphed into the grotesque creature, of fused human organs and blood-soaked tentacles.

Miles's instincts kick in as he throws the creature violently against the gnarled trunk of a nearby tree. Disgust surges through him, causing him to shake off the lingering ickiness, his fingers brushing against his cloak in an almost frantic attempt to clean himself. He battles the urge to retch but manages to stifle it as he unsheathes his sword with a sharp, ringing sound that pierces the tense air.

Suddenly, in a shocking twist, the creature convulses and transforms back into a boy, springing to his feet with a defiant yet trembling stance. "You know, that's quite offensive, mister," the boy declares, a quiver of fear lacing his words. 

The forest around them buzzed with an eerie stillness, the kind that made every rustle of leaves and creak of branches feel deafening. Miles gripped his katana tightly, his knuckles white as a thousand thoughts raced through his mind. The boy in front of him—small, vulnerable, and far too human—stood motionless, staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

"This doesn't make sense," Miles thought, his heart pounding. How could this frail child be the same monstrous horror that I had just seen? He clenched his jaw, trying to push away the doubt creeping in.

"Turn back into your monstrous form, monster!" Miles shouted, his voice cracking slightly, his katana trembling as he raised it. The boy didn't flinch. Instead, his lips quivered, and tears began welling up in his impossibly wide, innocent eyes.

"Please, don't," the boy pleaded, his voice small yet steady. "I—I don't want to hurt anyone. And by the way... we may be hideous to you, but we do have emotions... and names."

Miles froze, the words piercing through his fury like a knife. His sword wavered mid-air as he watched the boy shrink back slightly, his tiny hands clasped tightly in front of him.

The tension in Miles's muscles began to ease, and he exhaled sharply. With a reluctant growl, he sheathed his sword. He approached the boy cautiously, each step deliberate, his heart hammering in his chest. Dropping to one knee, Miles tilted his head, studying the child.

"Are you... are you a Blood Screecher?" he asked, his voice softer now, though suspicion still lingered in his tone.

The boy nodded hesitantly, his eyes flickering with something almost like shame. "Yes... why do you ask?"

Miles forced a smile, his voice deliberately calm. "What's your name?"

The boy blinked, surprised, as if no one had ever asked him that before. "Idris," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Idris, huh?" Miles said, his tone friendlier now. "Sorry about this, Idris, but... you don't seem like what they described to me."

"What do you mean?" Idris asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

Miles's friendly smile turned cold. In a flash, his hand darted to his katana, unsheathing it with practised precision. He swung the hilt of the blade toward Idris's temple in a blur of motion, aiming to knock the boy unconscious.

The impact landed with a sharp crack—but Idris didn't flinch.

Miles staggered back, his eyes widening in shock. The boy stood as still as a statue, his expression unchanging. Slowly, Idris raised a hand to touch his head where the blade had struck.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Idris asked, his tone flat but carrying an edge of something sinister.

Miles felt a cold chill crawl down his spine. Idris tilted his head, his wide eyes locking onto Miles with an unnerving intensity.