BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 156's

"Nmh ... Hans?" Jose placed a hand over Hans' burly arm that was embracing him. He felt so small to be in the arms of the man. "You're cold or what? Can you let me go?"

Rolan desperately held back the laughter beside him. The man even needed to cover his mouth with both hands firmly so that his laughter would not gush out.

You can embrace whatever Argent you want to protect, he did say that, but didn't expect Hans to actually do it.

"You guys see that too?" jose whispered when Hans finally apologized and let go. The creature he called was still standing quietly behind the dark shadows of the trees. The part of his body that was like a perforated bridal hood seemed to expand and deflate slowly as if he was breathing.

Or maybe it was the wind, Jose thought.

"Where might not see? If such a big one is not visible, my eyes will be blind" said Rolan. His back was bristling and cold hot. He was sure that the workers currently gathered around them also had great goosebumps like him.

They also saw the creature, which stood still in the corner of the eye and seemed to be inching closer. The only thing that kept them calm was Jose who when he first saw the creature could still take a leisurely step and so easily decided to turn around as if he saw nothing. The calmness of the young man was contagious to everyone, giving courage.

Jose stared around, making sure they all noticed him. "We went into the castle. If the creature is chasing, run away. Don't fight things you don't know. Dodging is also part of the tactic, it is not a shame. You remember what we came here for?"

The workers nodded. Their voices sounded like a flood when they said, "Pick up Mr. Marco."

"Getting Marquis Argent." Jose nodded. Through the corner of his eyes he saw the giant bridal hood was getting bigger, which meant getting closer. Surprisingly, there was no sound whatsoever he heard except the whirring of the wind and the friction of the leaves above them. "We're not here to face the forest creatures, so don't waste time. If necessary, we'll stay in the castle until morning comes."

Hans nodded. Jose moved his head, asking them to leave first, but Hans and Rolan shook their heads firmly.

"You go first!" hiss Rolan.

Jose actually prefers to be the last one to ensure the safety of all his workers, but he knows it's free to argue. He rose from behind the shrub where he hid, then traced the heel of his shoe and bounced far ahead. The wind rustled in his ears, making a familiar sound of thunderous prowess. He hasn't run like this in a long time.

Rolan followed behind without a fuss. He was accustomed to dark nights where the tread of his steps should remain as silent as the grave.

Hans and his workers ran in the same silence.

***

Marco fell from the altar when the monks in front of him stepped forward, attacking him. But it's only temporary. He got up quickly after slashing his short sword at the legs that locked him up. The sword was already dull and could only make two or three monks fall, but it was still effective at resisting attacks. Torn flesh shed blood, and blood made some people tremble or slip.

Nothing is more easily provoked than the youth. Their emotions are still unstable. Their hot blood always bubbled up asking for proof. In desperation, they will still push forward for the sake of one compliment of their courage. Children function as dramatic elements. No one would not be moved to see the nine-year-old cry out angrily brandishing a sword as if it was the world that was at fault with him. When children hold weapons, the frame he wears is no longer a combatant but a victim of resistance, because the child should not be there. Should have been the kid at home, playing in the yard. That's why many wars use children as an offensive as well as an effective defense.

That's why, Marco realized while holding back the slash after slash that came, these children were made guard soldiers.

He nudged one child's nose violently, kicked the other's heart, grabbed one of the young men's ears and threw them to the side as an assault repellent, and all that he did while being careful with every single short sword attack that was launched originally towards him.

Something sharp sliced the side of his waist. Marco twisted his body and slammed the side of his sword into the nose of the idiot young man who gasped happily and was shocked to stab him. The young man fell, but the others had not. There were still many who screamed furiously at her.

Thirsty, hungry, cold. He felt his body stagger. Someone managed to scratch the sword on his forehead, making the blood splash over the view.

Marco fell resting on the tip of the sword, but was unwilling to give up. He doesn't want to die here, stabbed like a bolster pig at a party table. With the rest of his strength, he swung his hand, chopping down anyone who approached to break down the road, looking for a crack.

There were other exclamations caught by Marco's ears in between the brawl, a voice he felt he had known. A voice he hadn't heard in years.

The gerald?

As soon as the name flashed, the monk-robed youths surrounding him were revealed to have fallen like they had been hit by a cannon. Gerald roared loudly and beat up whoever reached his hand, throwing so many czech youths into the air like paper dolls. Behind him, dozens of Argent workers did the same: roaring and sniffing all those who stood in the way. Despite carrying weapons, none of them used their sharp sides when moving.

Marco smashed down a young man who was still recklessly storming him. Through his blurry gaze from the blood, he saw Finnian also rushing in, directing the workers he led to drive the unarmed guests to a corner of the hall.

Far out there, covered in the back and forth of busy humans, Marco sees Jose running through the courtyard of the castle followed by several others. Randy was there too.

It was only after seeing his nephew that Marco became aware of all the pain that was afflicting him; it was as if Jose removed the blockage of pain that he had. Or maybe, it was just because he felt relieved. His ankle hurt to the bone. Blood seeped out from the side of his waist. Head pain. All the muscles in his body are like being pulled apart. He retreated, leaning his body against the stone altar tiredly. Five Argent workers stood on their backs, serving as barricades.

In a few minutes that felt like hours, the hall was conquered. Sitting party guests gathered on one side of the hall, guarded by dozens of sharp-armed workers. The cloaked monks were stripped of their swords. No more fighting, all the weapons have been dropped and collected by the workers. Jose ran in, kicked hard at someone who was muttering something while lying on top of a chalk circle, then walked up to him.

There's no hug. There is no greeting. Jose just lowered his head in a respectful greeting and said, "We picked up Uncle. We'll go home when Uncle's ready."

Go home.

The word echoed like music in Marco's ears. He nodded, still clutching the side of his bleeding waist. Bodies slumped around him, taking lives and removing the death dregs, spreading a foul scent into the air.

A worker came running with a chair, offering it to Marco, who was happily sitting there.

Rolan came a short while later, bringing with him Hans and ten workers behind him. Hans joins forces with Gerald, organizing the surviving men and marginalizing the bodies.

"Alright, Princess," Rolan lashed out while kneeling in front of Marco to examine the wounds on the man's body. He opened his black sling bag and took out an antiseptic. "These princes have come to save you. You can calm down."

"Have one of the princes make me food and drink" Marco growled as the wound on his forehead was cleaned. "This princess is so hungry."

Jose moved his head, commanding one of the workers. "Is there anyone else here, Uncle?" tanyakanya. "Other than the ones in this hall?"

"Come on, Jose." Marco smiled. He felt a strange pride infiltrate his heart seeing Jose so effectively and calmly controlling the workers. Just a few days they hadn't met, but he knew Jose had grown much more mature than the last time they parted ways. His nephew was no longer the same young man who sulked when picked up by the patrol police. "I don't know about people, but here there's at least one golem roaming around."

Rolan swore to hear it.

***