Chapter 43: Disease of disloyalty.

Hunter stared at her. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was being insane, but the raw determination in her eyes silenced him. He could see why she had dared to storm the Pit in search of a bodyguard with his skills, the woman was about to dip her toes in dangerous waters, and she had no idea just how deadly it could be.

He let out a long breath and gave a slow, defeated nod. If he gave in a little now, she would also be forced to compromise when he needed to go beyond the veil. It was a win-win choice. "Fine," he muttered, pulling his weapon into a more comfortable position. "Let us see where your compass leads us to."

"That is the plan," Zyra said, nodding and finally breaking her serious face.

They moved forward into the tree shadows, both of them silently praying to whatever superior beings were listening that the road would not lead them there.

"So, tell me about this compass of yours." He said, filling the silence. "Is it a family heirloom?"

Without hesitation, she gave a response, "Mmm, something like that. It was a gift from my mother."

Hunter went ahead to affirm in his mind that the tattoo on Zyra’s hand had been Zena’s once upon a time. But if that was the case, how was it passed on? Did it migrate after her death? Did the mother draw it on her daughter’s arm when she was a child? Were there some types of nanobots under her skin that pointed directions in real time?

How the hell did it work?

"Will you be passing it on to your own daughter in future?" He asked.

"I suppose." She replied. "Family heirloom after all, I can’t take it with me when I die."

***

Meanwhile, back in the damp, stone-walled territory of Greenwich, the atmosphere was thick with betrayal and mistrust.

A group of heavily bruised and bandaged men stumbled through the doors of Achilles’ office. They were trembling, their faces pale with a mix of pain and pure terror. They were the men Ocean had brutally tortured this morning, because they hadn’t been able to find Zyra. He blamed them for failing to find a mere girl.

But they didn’t slip away to lick their wounds after their beating. They went straight to Achilles to report the matter despite the consequences.

Achilles’s brow furrowed in sheer disbelief before a bitter curse slipped past his teeth. No one touched his men...not if they valued their lives. Whoever did this was already a dead man walking.

"Tell me the bastards who did this are bedridden," he growled, his voice dangerously low. "Because I don’t want people to think the Pit boss has grown soft and his men are trash."

"Boss! There is something that you must know!" Scotty sobbed, holding a broken arm against his chest. "It’s Ocean, that short fuck! He’s gone insane.... more insane than normal!"

Achilles, who was casually pouring a glass of dark wine, didn’t even look up. "Ocean? Calm down and tell me clearly what he has done this time round."

The men swallowed hard, scared about what the boss was going to do after he heard the entire story. But the longer they hid it, the more trouble they would be in. "We found.... the girl on the wanted posters in the Jungle at the low level Shardhorn dungeon."

Achilles got to his feet quickly like the seat had suddenly grown too hot. "Zyra S-scorpion?"

Scotty nodded eagerly. "Yeah, her." Around him, the others chimed in with their own murmurs of agreement.

"Okay...what has that got to do with Ocean?" Achilles asked, pouring more wine into the glass.

"He made a deal with her that she would take him to another dungeon and he would protect her! Then, he threatened us just to keep her secret safe! But the girl got what she wanted, set a fire in Madam Cammy’s brothel and escaped." Scotty said in a high-pitched voice.

The wine glass stopped halfway to Achilles’ lips. The room turned deathly cold. He slowly set the glass down. His face didn’t change expression, but his eyes turned into two pieces of ice.

"Damn it!" He cursed, he could not blame Zyra, but what she did not know was that she had made a deal with the devil. Ocean was a very good hunter, that was the only reason Achilles had kept him around. But he had loose screws in the head. Whatever deal they had, he would make sure she went through with it, willingly or unwillingly, and then kill her after.

Hunter had been right about Zyra’s naivety. The pampered Soul maiden thought the post apocalypse was safe just because she lived in a safe village. "Where is he now?"

Scotty combed through his hair with his fingers. "He left to search for her himself. He said she had something that belonged to him."

The men stood still, waiting for his instructions.

"For keeping such information to yourselves, you will have no pay this week, I do not expect to hear this story elsewhere and pray that nothing happens to that girl." Achilles waved his hand dismissively. "You didn’t see Zyra Scorpion. As far as you know, she is dead."

The men scrambled to obey, quietly grateful the punishment hadn’t been worse.

Without another word, he pulled out his phone and dialed his cousin’s number.

Ring...

ring...

ring...

No answer. It went straight to voicemail. "Hunt call me as soon as you get this." Achilles lowered the phone, muttering more curses. "How has she brought her chaos to my doorstep? Damn Soul maiden, troublemakers, all of them."

With a sharp, metallic clack, Achilles cocked his heavy pistol, the sound echoing ominously against the walls. He threw it over his back and walked out. He too was going to hunt...but for Ocean. Disloyalty was a disease in his camp, and Ocean had been sick for a long time.

*****

The High Council of Earth or Planetary Assembly, as it preferred to be known as, was comprised of four rulers from each nation, the divine soul maiden, and the commander-in-chief, who was a representative of all the hunting guilds.

This group met and communicated regularly, discussing all the important affairs of the surviving humans, wars and matters to do with survival.

One of those meeting was being held on this very day, at the Assembly Hall, a towering high rise in the capital. This particular meeting couldn’t have come at a better time, because over the past few days, the nations had gone absolutely mad. Rumors of murders and disappearances were traveling faster than light, and the citizens were panicking.

Today, the big bosses needed answers. Specifically, they needed them from the Mayor, a man who had been urgently invited to sit in the hot seat.

High Commander Volkregin, the venerable ruler of the Iron Vale Confederacy, was the first to open his mouth. He was a very short man, but his beard was magnificent...so long it almost tripped him when he walked. He stroked his chin hairs aggressively, his eyes glaring like hot coals.

"Mayor! Explain yourself!" Volkregin barked, coughing slightly as a stray piece of beard flew into his mouth. "Why on earth are your hounds turning our nations upside down? You are digging up every backyard looking for a Soul maiden. Accusing our people of hiding her. This is ridiculous."

Before the Mayor could even swallow his saliva to answer, a sharp scoff echoed across the grand hall. It came from Her Ladyship- Valarie Turnip, the beautiful but stressed-out ruler of the Jersey Republic. She slammed her teacup down, nearly cracking the fine porcelain.

"And I demand to know if there was truly a need to throw my people into a fortress!" she barked, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and motherly worry for her people. "My citizens are living in absolute terror! Not to mention, you went shooting people like a complete lunatic in Myrtle City! Up until this very moment, their blood has not been cleaned up! You better have a good explanation for this."