“You’re worried someone worse might take his place?”
“Until we know otherwise, yes.”
“But you don’t object to his death on moral grounds...?”
“Not particularly, no--hmm? Ah. Bohwanox just showed up. Hold on.”
“Bohwanox? What’s he doing here?”
“He’s telling me.”
“I can’t hear him.”
“Yeah, your soul isn’t linked to him, so--agh, I can’t carry two conversations at once like this. Just wait a minute.”
“...A-alright... um...”
“There’s something wrong.”
“What is it?”
“Bohwanox says he followed someone here who had the aura of death. But it went away on its own, somehow. I’m not sure what he means. He says he’s been investigating a series of missing persons reports, and he thinks this might be related.”
“Ah, uh... w-what do we do?”
“...Bah. We need you awake. This person he followed is probably in serious danger.”
“But it’s too soon, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“So, then...?”
“We make do. Get ready. Ah. Looks like they’re dissecting your body.”
“Wha--?”
-+-+-+-+-
Hector’s eyes stuck open, and he saw a woman in blue scrubs standing over him. He looked down to see his chest cavity pried open with metal clamps, and a pair of burly thugs watching in the corner of the room. One of them was wearing his helm.
She noticed his eyes open and froze. “Uh, guys...”
Hector sat up. They all screamed.
‘Keep them quiet!’ Garovel yelled.
He bounded up and barreled into the man with his helm, punching him in the gut and yanking the helm free. The other guy slugged him in the face, flooring Hector. They jumped at the opportunity to kick the huge gash that was his chest.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every night at midnight PST by ~400 words.