Apocalypse Healer - Path of Death-Chapter 57B1 - Who Are You?

A cold blade pressed firmly against David’s neck, the unknown man’s words resounding in his head.

Regressor?

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What was he talking about? David had no idea, but he wasn’t going to enable the man’s antics. Not after the blade on his neck cut into him.

He willed the [Law of Blood] to his command, the Words of Power resounding in his head. Blood gushed from the faint cut in a ray. It pressed against the blade, shoving it aside.

The man’s eyes widened, his eyes lingering on David’s neck. He backtracked, his lips parting.

But David was unwilling to wait and listen. He continued reciting the Words of Power in his mind, while applying [Bless] on himself. The ray of blood froze in the air and shifted. It transformed into a dozen bloody needles that blasted toward the man once they had fully formed. David kicked the cobblestone beneath and leaned forward, reaching top speed in an instant.

The black-obsidian blade materialized in his hand as the unknown man’s sword turned into a blur, parrying most blood needles. He was fast, almost too fast for David to keep up, but he wasn’t fast enough to block all attacks at once. But something odd occurred when the needles were about to cut into the man’s skin. His body exuded a silver hue in one moment, and the bloody needles passed through him in the next. They phased through the stranger.

David accelerated, his dagger sweeping across the man’s chest, only to phase through as well. However, the dagger cut through the silver hue, earning a surprised stare from the unknown perpetrator.

“You have to be,” he murmured, “A Law, a Relic, and a soulbound weapon that can cut through–....”

David didn’t let him finish. He took advantage of the man’s distraction and cast [Shield of Blood] thrice, but not to protect himself. The three crimson shields came to live beside and behind the man. He must have realized what was happening because his expression shifted. His body tensed and David noticed his grip around the sword handle tightened.

The fight was about to turn serious.

“Stop right there!” A commanding voice reached David, “Who in the Pantheon’s name allowed you to fight on their sacred grounds?!”

David would much rather rush at the unknown perpetrator and fight him, but he saw him click his tongue and sheath his sword. His eyes lingered at something, or on someone, behind David.

“I should execute you both on the spot!” The same voice resounded. Finally, David turned to see a group of elves, dwarves, and other races march through the market square. They headed their direction, their hands lingered on their weapons ready to be drawn at any moment.

“Who are you guys?” David asked straightforwardly. He wasn’t good was mincing his words, neither was there a need to do so.

The newcomers weren’t injured. Their weapon were clean and looked like they had been polished for hours, and their armors didn’t even have a dent. They were clearly not participants of the Horde conquest.

“We are Arc’s reinforcement, and your personal hell if you stir trouble on my land!” The dwarf at the head of the group bellowed. He had a long, gray beard and was fully clad in heavy plated armor. He wielded a shield and mace just like Torb.

“And who are you?”

The dwarf’s eyes drifted to David’s left arm and his expression shifted, but only for a moment, “So you’re that kid.

“You are too late,” David’s expression turned cold, “You should have been here much earlier.”

Someone behind the dwarf shouted something, but it wasn’t in a language he knew. However, the leader turned around and grunted something before turning back with a sigh.

“Traveling the worlds isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s even worse when you travel to a newly integrated world. But you are right. We were too late. Too many good people died because we weren’t present.”

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There was no need to hide the truth. The whole situation had been a big mess. It was unfortunate. Still, Arc was standing. Many had survived.

“But that shouldn’t be your concern, David,” The dwarf’s expression shifted back, “Don’t look at me like that. It is only obvious that I know the man who cleared the Demon Rift.”

He nodded at David’s black arm covered in various vibrant golden glyphs, “The gods crazed you with a powerful Relic.”

“That’s why it is even more disappointing you’re tarnishing their sacred grounds,” he sighed deeply, “As a member of the Familia and a resident of Arc, you have broken several rules by unsheathing your weapon and fighting in the sanctuary.”

His voice grew in volume. It turned steely, his eyes shifting from David to the other man, “As for you. You must be Zachariah. I don’t know the situation between you, and I don’t care that both you and David protected Arc with your lives. You tarnished the Pantheon’s greatest gift by drawing blood in this place.”

The dwarf turned to his comrades and gestured to David and Zachariah, “Detain them! The cold walls of the detention cell will clear their minds.”

Arc’s reinforcement jumped into action simultaneously. They unsheathed their weapons and approached the troublemakers with guarded strides.

“There is no need to act like this,” the stranger, who was apparently going by the name Zachariah, walked leisurely past David. He joined the reinforcement and glanced back at him, “Are you not coming?”

David felt like throwing the Obsidian Blade at Zachariah. That man was the reason he was being detained for, yet he acted like…this.

Calm down. Allowing anger and frustration to consume you won’t help anyone.

He breathed in and out, calming his nerves. The Obsidian Blade disappeared in his mind space and he turned to Torb and Melach, who had been with him all day long. They survived the disaster with the Demon Horde.

Melach was still weakened, the consumption of the Fragment of Power still lingering on his Mana Core, but he was getting better. Torb, on the other hand, was doing much better. Half of his body had been shattered in the Horde annihilation and it was a miracle he’d survived. But he was already back on his feet, leaving nearly no hints of the condition he had been in merely a few days ago.

“Rest a little bit,” David sighed again, “I will be back soon.”

The reinforcement was upon him, but he paid no heed to them. David walked through them, his eyes lingering on Zachariah. He joined the stranger, who smiled at him. There was no trace of guilt in his eyes. If anything, the man stared at him with an abundance of interest.

“We’re going to have a good talk in prison,” David grumbled and Zachariah nodded.

“That’s what I thought,” Zachariah’s smile didn’t cease, but his eyes felt cold, calculative, “I have many questions.”

David thought the same, his mind still lingering on the man’s earlier words.

Regressor.

It didn’t make any sense before and still didn’t, but David couldn’t think of Zachariah as someone spouting nonsense. He never heard of someone called Zachariah and clearly never met him before. However, there was something confusing about Zachariah.

The pain in his voice…the desperation lurking deep in his eyes…

It wasn’t logical, yet Zachariah’s antics, the way he moved and fought, and the fact he recognized his relic, soulbound weapon, and even the [Law of Blood] like it was the simplest thing in the world, made it had to believe he was a human of this world.

He was simply too used to everything.

There was no ounce of fear in Zachariah’s eyes as the armored men and women around him inched closer and he even slapped one elven man’s hand away as he reached for his sword. David walked up to Zachariah, eying the glaring elven man and Zachariah who looked at the Protector in disinterest: almost like he wasn’t even worth the specks of dust underneath his feet.

The man planted seeds of confusion in David’s heart and he hated it. David paid no heed to the youngest Protectors as they surrounded him and Zachariah. There was no weapon for them to take. The Obsidian Blade was well hidden within his mind space after all.

The dwarven leader said something to the elven man, which brought a smile to Zachariah’s lips. It wasn’t much, but to David, who had been paying attention to Zachariah, it was a lot.

Did he understand what their leader said? Wasn’t that in dwarvish?

David was still having difficulties differentiating the other races’ native languages, but he could tell some vocalizations apart at this point. And then there was Zachariah, who could apparently understand the dwarf and elven man.

“Who the hell are you?” He blurted aloud, earning an amused gaze from Zachariah, “I want to know the same.”

His expression shifted, turning eerily cold, “Who the fuck are you, David?”