[A boy only seeks freedom]

———xxx———

Whatever creature the mother appeared as was something straight out of a person's nightmares.

The dim lights from within the glass chambers flickered violently, casting an eerie glow that highlighted the creature's sharp edges.

Protruding white bones that stuck out in various places, and impossibly long limbs that tangled with each other as she stumbled forward. The blue casting in the darkness made her seem to glow, while a beautiful woman face attached to a long, slender neck.

"Danny." 

It sung in a sweet, syrupy voice.

"Danny, come here."

"Danny. Danny. Danny. Danny. Danny. Danny!"

Her beautiful, wide eyes peeked out around the corner, close to the towering ceiling. Like her creepy son, she didn't blink and continued to watch them as the dangling limbs swung around, scraping against the ground.

Lucas glanced over, repulsed. However, his target wasn't the bony woman, or the child that had scampered to a corner with a terrible expression—

—it was the man before him.

A kick, a swing. Left, right. Dodge. Attack.

He gasped, the glide of dark metal narrowly scraping past his eyes.

The slender sword cut a sharp arc through the air, thrusting forward. Lucas had noticed it earlier, not questioning the weirdness of it considering the situation they were in. It almost didn't seem solid, with whispering shadows floating at the edges as if a mirage.

He ducked, a few strands of hair pitifully cut off. Kicking his leg from under him as he grabbed for the sword, using the other's wrist to swing at the woman, who had approached.

They fought around the woman that was sliding closer, helping and attacking each other simultaneously.

When the creature's long nail stabbed at him, the other used his sword to block it. When the creature lunged at the other, Lucas slid past and knocked it to the ground.

The man laughed loudly, amusement clouding his deep blue eyes. "What's your plan, darling?"

Lucas scowled, continuing his rain of attacks. One after the other. A fist against a sword. It was clear who the loser would be, but the man seemed to be taunting him with the blade rather than striking to kill.

Well, Lucas' aim wasn't to win.

Though the resilience of this man was irritating, persistent and unavoidable. Like a damn weed, decided Lucas, as he twisted away once more.

A sharpness scrapped into his flesh, digging at the meat inside before he winced, leaping away from the woman's hold. A wound gaped open on his arm, leaving a disgusting and bloody pool of red.

He wouldn't die from it, and he had a feeling that his physical ability increased slightly since the Cinderella Story.

But it significantly impacted his ability, his mind blurring from the pain. Of course, his plan was never to escape on his own—his current strength wouldn't allow for it. 

Thankfully, a perfect sacrifice was there to help him out.

A rain of cuts decorated Lucas' pale skin as he huffed, looking at the other whose clothing was also ripped and bleeding from various edges.

The woman cackled, her neck twisting upside down until her head grossly flipped, dangling in the air. It was straight out of a horror movie, that even Lucas' expression distorted at the sight. 

Wrinkled, broken flaps of skin, and the sickening crunch of bones as she twisted and jerked. He even made out the mess of open chunks from the gaping wound.

"Danny, don't be disobedient. Don't you want to be a good boy?" She was like a spider, crawling forward. "Danny, do what I say. Come here, and be a good boy."

The little boy shook his head quickly, gulping. "I don't wanna wake up."

"Danny!" Her bony fingers stretched closer.

The child scampered away. "I wanna play."

"Danny, listen to me!"

She leaped into the air, mangled body jerking forward as the boy covered his small head, shaking it violently. Before she could reach, a blurry shadow appeared in an instant.

The man swung his sword, slicing off two chunks of her curved limbs. "I think we both know he doesn't want to."

Her scream filled the air, but the man was relentless, slicing and cutting into her as if she were a mound of ground meat. The black sword split in half as it thrusted out, connected by wispy swings that controlled it's movement. 

Lucas narrowed his eyes, watching the floating strands that wrapped along the handle of the sword, down and weaving between the man's fingers.

The strange, smiling boy rushed forward, panicked. However, Lucas tilted his head back with a glare that made the child run to the corner, unable to do anything but giggle and cry.

Eventually, all that was left was her quivering corpse, and the protruding white bones that stuck in the air from the cut up flesh.

He straightened his back, and tipped his chin to lazily glance back at Lucas. His fingers wiped a smudge of blood off now crimson lips.

It was like a death sentence.

First, he approached the curled up boy who was rocking back and forth on his feet. The man crouched down, blood still splattered over his body. He scrutinized the child for a moment, unbothered by the warped expression that teetered between helpless snickers and choked sobs.

"You killed my mommy?" shivered Danny.

The man nodded. "Deader than dead."

Lucas fell silent listening to the conversation. "....."

The man pointed to the corpse, poking it with his blade. "Is that really your mommy? She looks awfully scary."

"...my mommy is very beautiful."

"Your perception of beauty is very screwed." said the man honestly. "Tell me, are you awake right now, boy? The fishes look almost drawn, as if purely from your imagination. And your mother is definitely unique, don't you think?"

Panic flickered in the beady eyes as his tiny hands grasped the man's arm desperately. "I'm not dreaming! No, no, no!"

"Should I wake you up?"

He slowly lifted the sword with a careless move of his arm; the boy scurrying back, terrified. The deep voice mimicking childish speech bounced off the walls.

"Don't wanna, don't wanna, don't wanna!"

Lucas had a warning throb in his chest, but before he could move, the sword slammed past him, ramming into the glass. Cornered and pressed to the railing, with a gaping wound that grotesquely continued to bleed.

The man had moved at a speed he wasn't prepared for, especially with his wounds.

"Are you willing to answer me now?"

The man's arm pressed against his throat dangerously. There was a careless teasing in his voice, but Lucas had a feeling that these lighthearted words were something to take completely seriously. "Who are you?"

The reflection of the water calmly rippled off their skin in the narrow passage, and he felt the cold bars digging against his back. It made his breath restless and strained, the mutilated corpse behind proof of the creeping danger that approached.

Lucas' expression didn't change. "I'll be the final survivour of this damn apocalypse. Nice to meet you."

The greeting was in a way, laced with challenge and provocation.

One dedicated to the person before him.

The man laughed, his grip pushing the sword deeper as cracks spread along the glass, spreading across until Lucas could see them reaching above his head. "I don't know if I'd quite call this a nice  meeting."

"You're right. I didn't want to meet you."

Another flirtatious laugh. "I was going to say it was a wonderful meeting, actually."

"It wasn't." Lucas looked disgusted at the idea, and the other felt as if he should be somewhat offended.

"I thought we were going to help each other escape?"

"We were."

The man stared at him calmly, then back at the child. "I have a hypothesis. If I tell you the objective, will you tell me how you planned to help?"

Lucas raised his eyebrow before spinning out of the other's grasp, snatching the guns at his belt and jerking them up to the fine cracks along the glass.

One eye closed, the other aimed with precision for a center where they all gathered, successfully striking it as the bullet pierced into the fragile material.

Water begun to spill, and he turned to fire a few more rounds at the most concentrated areas of breakage. 

"The easiest way to leave a place with no exit?" said Lucas calmly, a fire blazing in those cloudy eyes, as if painted with life within the chaos. 

"You make your own."

A man who could be bound by no rules.