Run, Hillel!
He scrambled backward instinctively, kicking off from the shattered barrel and putting the stone well between himself and the approaching cyclops. The monster bellowed and swung its massive fist.
Hillel flinched, expecting the well to shatter, but the blow stopped short. The cyclops pulled back at the last second and slammed its fist into the ground instead.
It hesitated?
Another cyclops—one of the ink-splattered ones that had been approaching from the distance—blinked rapidly and lunged at him from near the grinder. Hillel threw himself sideways, rolling awkwardly over exposed roots as pain shot through his shoulder.
He crashed into the grinder's timber frame. The cyclops swung down at his head, but again, there was that hesitation, that slight redirection. Its knuckles barely grazed the machine's iron bolts. The frustrated monster roared and shook its blinded heads.
They're trying not to damage the equipment, Hillel realized. And the crops. For some reason, these monsters seemed like they were programmed to protect the Farm's assets above all else.
It wasn't much, but it was something. Using the grinder for cover, Hillel pushed himself up, gasping for breath.
One of the newer cyclopes charged directly at him. Instead of running away from the grinder, Hillel ran alongside it. He dropped low when the cyclops tried to crush him against the structure.
The giant's arm hit the grinder with surprising restraint as if it was trying not to damage the machine, even while attacking him.
The impact still shook everything. Hillel scrambled deeper into the crop rows, deliberately positioning valuable equipment and plants between himself and his attackers. He bought himself a minute at most, ducking and weaving through the field.
But his body was giving out. Every movement was agony. His vision blurred from blood loss and exhaustion. His lungs burned, and his muscles trembled uncontrollably.
His foot caught on a thick root hidden beneath the leaves. He fell hard, the air knocked from his lungs. When he tried to push himself up, his left arm gave way. He had nothing left.
Through blurry eyes, he watched the cyclopes form a tight circle around him. One reached down with enormous fingers, closing them around his throat.
Hillel clawed at the hand as darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. The creature's earthy, foul stench filled his nostrils as the pressure increased. So this is it, he thought as the dismal grey sky began to fade to black.
Suddenly, the pressure vanished. He collapsed sideways into the mud, coughing as air rushed back into his lungs.
Thick, jet-black ink splashed across the cyclops that had been strangling him. The creature reeled back, both heads screeching, its single eyes squeezed shut as the liquid burned them.
"Back off." Holden's voice cut through the air. He strode into the circle, sword held reverse grip. Tendrils of ink coiled from every direction—off the grinder, out of mud puddles, even from the cyclopes' smeared faces—converged onto his blade until it gleamed like a liquid obsidian weapon.
With one sweeping motion, he lashed the air. The ink whipped out like a living thing, striking two more giants. They staggered back, howling and rubbing their blinded eyes. None dared attack while Holden stood between them and the machinery. When one tried using a sonic attack, Holden silenced it instantly by filling its mouth with ink.
Hillel's eyes widened as he got a good look at Holden. The old man was heavily injured, arguably more so than Hillel was, with several gashes lining the sides of his arm and torso. His grey clothes were stained darker with blood, and his face dripped red.
He knelt beside Hillel and slipped an arm under the boy's shoulders. "Thank goodness you're still breathing. Stay that way."
Huh? He's worried about me?
With surprising gentleness, he lifted Hillel and sprinted down an empty row, placing a broad trunk of organ-flowers between them and the recovering cyclopes.
Behind them, the six monsters roared together, but none crashed through the crops; their blindness made them overly cautious about moving.
Holden set Hillel at the base of a tall stalk. Then, he closed his eyes and let out a shaky exhale. "Listen. I believe you are an important asset to this organization. As a result, I will protect you and keep you alive. What I need you to do is stay still and don't move. Don't even make a sound. Otherwise, the cyclopes will kill you and if not them, the intruder will."
"Huh? You're not making sense," Hillel stammered. "What intruder?"
Before he could say anything more, a stone shot through the crops, aimed directly at Holden's head.
Holden's reflexes kicked in. His black sword snapped up, striking the stone and splitting it cleanly in two. The fragments skipped past his shoulders and thudded into the mud.
A figure in red appeared almost instantly, balanced on one of the fallen fragments. The newcomer's dark pink scarf fluttered as he twisted, executing a perfect spinning kick.
Holden tried to block with his forearm, but exhaustion and wounds slowed him down. The kick connected with crushing force against his head. He was thrown sideways into the pulsating plants, the impact reopening wounds and spattering the leaves with blood.
The red-haired man landed lightly, his dark duster coat settling around his baggy trousers as his gaze shifted to Hillel. He looked young; if Hillel had to guess, this man was around eighteen.
"Oh Inspector~! Will you tell me why a bloodied child is here with you on the organ farm?" The intruder asked, looking Hillel up-and-down with his dark pink eyes. "I'd hate to kill him... especially if he's working under you."
"Don't!" Holden roared, already struggling back to his feet and positioning himself between the intruder and the boy. "I won't let you touch him!"
The red-haired man tilted his head casually. "What happens if I do?" He lazily pointed an open palm toward Hillel.
"I-I'm not with him!" Hillel croaked. "I'm a prisoner—please—"
The intruder's eyes widened at Hillel's plea. "Aha! Is that so?"
Holden let out an angry growl and lunged forward, leading with his sword. But the intruder flowed around the attack like water. A blinding series of strikes—elbows, knees, and fists—folded Holden like paper and sent him rocketing backward into the confused cyclopes. He struck one giant's shin with a sickening crunch and collapsed into the mud.
That was... brutal, Hillel thought to himself, watching the spectacle in awe.
The intruder advanced through the sticky mud, his worn shoes leaving deep impressions. At his ninth step, he lifted his foot and placed it on one of the stone halves. Hillel noticed a brief glimmer of light as the shoe sole contacted the severed stone. The intruder picked up the stone and casually side-armed it toward Holden, the projectile moving at blistering speed.
Holden managed to roll aside; the stone buried itself in a nearby root. He pointed his sword at the root, expecting the man to teleport to it. But the intruder ran up behind him, having covered the distance instantly. A powerful punch slammed Holden into a cyclops's knee. The beast bellowed while Holden collapsed, half-buried in mud.
"I'd hate to have your job inspecting these ugly pieces of shit," the intruder said with contempt. "Don't you deserve a break?"
The cyclopes answered with their bone-rattling sonic shriek. The air trembled; Hillel felt his teeth vibrate painfully. Holden snarled a single word and snapped his fingers—black ink erupted from the mud around the giants' feet, filling their mouths and silencing them.
"Look at you—plugging your own comrades." The intruder laughed, shaking his head. Then, his gaze met the single, massive eye of the nearest cyclops.
He froze, caught by the creature's psychic stare.
Holden seized the opportunity. Ink coated his blade like boiling tar. Putting his entire body into motion despite his injuries, he unleashed a two-handed slash that sent a crescent of pure blackness carving through the air toward the immobilized assassin.
But a pulsating crimson-orange orb flared at the intruder's chest and detonated with a thunderous BOOM! The pressure wave scattered leaves and mud in all directions, shattering Holden's ink attack and simultaneously breaking the cyclops's hold.
The intruder shrugged off the last effects of the stun, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I didn't expect that. I guess I'll have to handle the distractions first." He drew a dagger from his belt.
It flashed through the air—not at Holden, but at the nearest cyclops's throat. The intruder followed like smoke, closing the distance in a flash. Three precise cuts silenced the giant into pieces, its black ichor spraying across the grinder.
Hillel's eyes widened at the sudden death of the monster. The same type of beast he had nearly died to was diced up as if it was nothing.
This man is dangerous!
While the remaining monsters reeled in confusion, Holden lunged for Hillel, scooping him up awkwardly with his good arm. He staggered desperately toward the distant farmhouse.
"Let me—go!" Hillel gasped, weakly beating at the inspector's shoulder.
"Stay still," Holden panted, half-dragging the boy. Every painful step left blood soaking into the dark soil. "We need to leave!"
They reached the portal frame—a shimmering tear in reality beneath the farmhouse's sagging roof. But before Holden could cross through, he heard the sound of footsteps right behind him.
A rose-pink flash sliced across Holden's vision.
He stared in shock at the empty space where his right forearm had been. His severed limb, still clutching the black sword, fell with a wet thud onto the muddy threshold.
Holden collapsed, dropping Hillel into the cold mud.
The intruder appeared behind them, casually wiping his dagger clean. "Told you," he murmured. "Distractions."
He effortlessly picked up the limp Hillel like a sack and leaped through the portal. He laid Hillel on the ground before turning around and decimating the portal door frame with several slashes. The wood instantly disintegrated as the doorway to the organ farm began to fade out of existence.
Trapped on the Farm side, bleeding out from his severed arm, Holden screamed a name or curse that was lost forever in the violent snap of the closing gateway.
"Serves that bastard right," The intruder giggled as he turned to Hillel, hoisting the wounded boy over his shoulder. "Hold on tight, now. We're gonna leave this place."
Vertigo hit Hillel hard. Wind rushed past his ears as the intruder carried him upward through the spiraling staircase to the surface. Each level they passed showed scenes of carnage: dead white-coated workers that were reduced to chunks of meat, masked guards charred or cut in half, and Vorkas's body torn apart among smoldering crates. The smoke, blood, and burned organic matter stench hung in the air.
Hillel, dizzy and in pain, counted six floors before daylight appeared ahead.
They burst onto a grassy hilltop just as the sun rose over the horizon. Gold, rose, and violet washed over the clouds—colors Hillel had forgotten existed after his time underground. He blinked against the brightness, his lungs filling greedily with clean air that tasted of pine and morning frost instead of blood and rot.
It's so... beautiful up here.
The intruder set him gently on the grass, some distance from the access hatch they'd exited. "Stay here," he said with a conspiratorial grin before vanishing back down the tunnel.
Minutes passed in silence except for the wind in the distant pines. Then, the earth shook beneath Hillel.
Boom... boom-boom-BOOM!
A chain of explosions roared up from below. The steel hatch blew skyward, tumbling through the air. Earth, smoke, debris, and orange flame erupted after it, shooting into the air.
Hillel could only stare in shock as the flaming debris rained down. Just moments ago, he was on the brink of death. Who would have thought that he'd survive? It felt like a miracle.
The intruder reappeared beside Hillel without a sound, his face flushed and eyes bright with excitement. He breathed a sigh of relief before turning to Hillel. "And now you're free!"