Chapter 33 - The Lost Mirror

"I have to find the other doctors and nurses right away. This is serious," Kaeda muttered to herself after pulling her thoughts together from the shock. She sealed the body bag that held the corpse, then hurried toward the morgue door.

Her hands trembled from stress, fumbling with the keys she held. They slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She snatched them up again, frantically trying each one in the lock. Her anxiety made even the simplest movement impossible.

"At last," she whispered once she found the right key.

She flung the door open, dragging the body she was supposed to deliver. Slamming it shut behind her, she started running through the corridor with the corpse in tow, heading toward the doctor she was looking for. But in her haste, she slipped and fell hard on her back. The pain wasn't severe, yet something cold and wet brushed her hand.

When she lifted it toward her face, Kaeda froze. Her palm was drenched in blood. Panic struck her harder as she realized the walls around her were smeared crimson, streaked and dripping from every direction. Turning her head in a slow, terrified motion, Kaeda saw them. The bodies of the doctors, nurses, surgeons, all lying dead on the floor.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her hands trembled uncontrollably. The corpses were mangled beyond imagination, limbs torn apart, blood pooling indifferently on the tiles, organs scattered, eyes, arms, and legs strewn across the corridor. The once sterile white of the hospital was drowned in the grotesque silence of death.

"Doctor Simron? Raela? Johns?" she whispered shakily, moving the lifeless bodies to make sure they were truly dead.

"N-no... NOOOO!" Kaeda screamed, collapsing to her knees. Her mind was breaking apart under the weight of what she saw. She buried her face in her trembling hands, her sobs echoing through the death-filled hall.

"Well, looks like one little bunny slipped through," came a voice, smooth, calm, and chillingly casual. It froze her blood. The sound came from behind her, from the shadows. A faint golden gleam revealed that the man was holding a small handheld cannon in his left hand, aimed directly at her. Judging by the massacre around her, he was almost certainly the one responsible.

Kaeda turned her head, trembling, trying to see who was speaking, but before her eyes could meet his, the cannon fired.

A red bullet streaked toward her, dark veins pulsing across its surface as it tore through the air faster than sound itself. It was only inches away from her eye when, suddenly, it shattered, bursting into a hundred shards before reaching her.

A sharp crack of bones followed.

"Tch! Damn it," the man hissed as his weapon fell from his broken fingers, ligaments twisting unnaturally.

Standing before the terrified Kaeda was a crimson cloak, blocking her view entirely. That sight, the deep red fabric glinting faintly in the dim light, was like a flare of hope amidst the slaughterhouse despair.

"Are you all right, Miss Friola?" asked the newcomer, his voice calm, as though chewing on something.

"M-Marshal Mildura?" Kaeda stammered, recognizing him through her fear.

It was indeed the Marshal, casually munching on roasted chestnuts, seemingly unfazed by the horror around them.

"I can see you're frightened. Understandable, given this little blood-soaked performance. Get out of here! Now!" he ordered.

"Y-yes," she replied shakily, then ran off, dragging the corpse along the blood-slicked floor and past the fallen staff.

"I didn't expect to face the Marshal of the Dominions himself," said the other man, his voice dripping with bitter amusement. His shattered fingers regenerated within seconds, the sound of snapping bones echoing sharply through the hall.

The Marshal's eyes widened slightly at the display, just a flicker of surprise, before his face returned to its usual stoic calm. He turned his gaze toward the corpses behind him, studying them with cold detachment, as if piecing together the logic of carnage.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" the Marshal demanded, turning his gaze toward the shadowed silhouette before him.

"Zrukew," the stranger replied, and at that instant, his weapon morphed into a much larger rifle, retaining the same dark, veined texture it had before.

"Hm!?" Mildura's eyes narrowed, but before he could react, the rifle fired, a deafening blast tearing through the corridor. The shockwave was so immense it pushed the corpses strewn across the floor farther away and extinguished the flames flickering in the wall-mounted lanterns. Darkness swallowed the ruined hospital.

But the Marshal was no longer on the ground. A red spark glowed from above. He was clinging to the ceiling, his right hand crackling with crimson electricity, ready to strike.

"HAH!" Mildura roared, lunging downward with lightning speed. His electrified fist collided with the attacker's guard, sending arcs of red lightning dancing through the corridor. The impact reignited a few of the extinguished lanterns, casting jagged shadows across the walls.

The stranger barely managed to catch the Marshal's wrist mid-strike, halting what could have been a fatal blow.

"Ngghh!" he grunted, straining to restrain the electric surge pulsing through Mildura's arm. But the Marshal's strength was overwhelming. With brute force, he drove the man downward, smashing through the tiled floor.

They crashed into the first floor of the hospital, where everything was eerily still, an empty space, silent yet steeped in the same invisible death that hung over the upper floor.

"An angel?" the Marshal asked, now able to see his opponent clearly.

The figure stood tall, clad in a long black coat from neck to heel, gloves exposing his fingers. His hair was half-curled and golden, but his eyes, his eyes gleamed with an unnatural crimson light.

It was Lazrael. He met the Marshal's stare with a sly, wicked grin.

"No... something's off about you," Mildura said, voice low and measured. "I can barely sense any Lapis from you... and your Lagus is almost negligible. What are you?"

The Marshal unsheathed the blade at his hip, taking a firm stance, his tone turning cold and deliberate.

"Marshal Ilfar Mildura," Lazrael said with mock politeness, his grin widening. "It's been a pleasure to meet you. But you seem to have forgotten something."

Mildura's brow furrowed.

Lazrael dropped several uncracked walnuts onto the floor. The Marshal's eyes flickered with confusion, then, in an instant, the nuts exploded like miniature bombs. The corridor was engulfed in thick smoke.

Mildura swept his arm outward, dispersing the haze with a burst of electric energy—but Lazrael was gone.

"Damn it! What—?" the Marshal froze as he noticed a pool of blood and shattered bone fragments where Lazrael had been standing only seconds earlier.

"He teleported? No... that wasn't teleportation. What kind of cursed method was that? What was he, and where did he go?"

He turned in every direction, eyes sharp, scanning the darkness for the faintest sign of the vanished entity.

Kaeda was running down the corridor, pushing the stretcher with the corpse through rows of chairs toward the lower floor. Her hands trembled from fear and exhaustion. The tension she felt was like venom spilling over the cup of her soul. The hospital's false calm clashed violently with the storm of trauma echoing inside her.

"What's wrong, Kaeda?" asked a doctor who appeared suddenly from her left.

"Doctor Krels! Just, just look at his body in the examination room. Please, just look!" Kaeda cried, her voice shaking beyond reason as she shoved the stretcher toward him.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Tell me what happened," said the doctor, trying to soothe her while taking hold of the stretcher gently.

"Just look, doctor! Look at this damned body! Look!" she shouted, her fear boiling over into anger.

"There's no need," came a calm voice from behind them. "That body doesn't have a single organ, or even bones, inside it. I can already guess who might've done that."

Kaeda froze. Doctor Krels turned. Standing at the end of the corridor was Marshal Mildura, casually eating plum seeds as if nothing around him carried any weight.

"M-Marshal Mildura? What are you doing here?" the doctor asked, startled by his presence.

"Marshal..." Kaeda whispered weakly, her voice trembling, her red-rimmed eyes locked on him with quiet desperation.

"That body is like that because—"

But before he could finish, the seeds slipped from his hand and scattered across the floor.

"Wh-what is it, Marshal?" the doctor asked, worry creeping into his tone.

Kaeda stared at Mildura. His eyes had widened unnaturally, his hand frozen midair in shock. He wasn't seeing them anymore. His gaze was fixed on the tiles, which now seemed to distort and bend into dozens of colors, like a hallucination. The fallen seeds multiplied in his vision, twisting and spiraling as if reality itself was unraveling.

He turned toward Kaeda and the doctor, but his sight deceived him further, faces, shapes, everything blending together.

"Wh-what's happening? Why am I here? My head... it hurts," Mildura muttered, clutching his temples in agony.

"Marshal, what are you saying? You just said—eh? What?" Kaeda stammered. Her fear was gone. The trauma, the panic that had consumed her moments earlier, gone as if wiped clean. Strangely, she felt calm. Composed. More focused on her work than she had been in days.

She looked at the body, at the doctor, everything seemed... normal.

"Um, you should probably take that body down to the morgue," Doctor Krels said casually.

Kaeda looked at the covered corpse, staring as if something beneath the sheet was trying to surface, trying to remember itself.

"Wait. Something's wrong," said the Marshal suddenly. His wings burst open, crimson light flaring across the corridor, and he took off at high speed toward the place where he had fought Lazrael earlier.

"Marshal!" Kaeda cried, abandoning the stretcher and running after him.

"Kaeda! You forgot the body!" the doctor called after her.

Mildura flew through the corridors at blinding speed, desperate to confirm what had happened. The air around him pulsed with enough force to make the lights flicker and doors tremble as he passed.

But when he reached the room...

Nothing.

No corpses. No blood. No trace of the massacre that had drenched the walls moments ago. Only silence. A heavy, suffocating quiet that hung over the empty corridor.

"What... something's happened here. Impossible. I'm certain there were—"

"Hm? Marshal? Are you here for an inspection?" a woman's voice called softly down the corridor.

Mildura turned and saw a nurse, dressed in a pristine white uniform, her dark hair neatly tied back with a clasp.

"Oh, uh... nothing. I just can't seem to remember what I came here for. Are you aware of anything unusual that's happened in this hospital?" the Marshal asked, his tone calm but uncertain.

"No, Marshal," the nurse replied smoothly. "Everything has been perfectly normal. Are you feeling unwell?" Her voice was composed, professional, unwavering.

Mildura studied her closely. His eyes locked on hers, unblinking. There was something off about her—something too calm, too deliberate. He couldn't quite place what it was.

"I see... well then, carry on," he said at last, turning to leave with slow, deliberate steps. But then he noticed something, a chestnut shell lying a few inches from his boot. He frowned slightly.

"How did that get there?"

"In fact, Marshal," the nurse spoke again.

"Hm?"

"You need to sign a few medical reports, documents you discussed with Doctor Merula on the second floor, room twenty-three," she said politely.

"Really? I don't recall asking for such a report," Mildura replied, turning fully to face her.

"Here are the documents, already signed by you," she said, handing him a small stack of papers.

The Marshal's eyes narrowed. Each page bore his signature, twice, identical in every stroke and flourish.

"You don't remember because you recently participated in a neurological examination on the lower floor," the nurse continued. "It was to verify whether you had any information regarding the case of the deceased patient assigned to Mrs. Friola for morgue transfer. Temporary memory loss following such procedures is very common. I believe that's why you don't recall signing the forms. The reports were authorized in General Igorus Friola's absence, as he is currently navigating the Guhojre Forest on behalf of our nation."

"...Now it makes sense," Mildura murmured, nodding slightly. "I've heard of those side effects, but never realized they were this... pronounced. Very well. Thank you."

"The full health report will be ready in a few days," the nurse said, resuming her calm tone as she started to walk away. "Once it's available, we'll contact you immediately."

"Wait a moment," Mildura ordered sharply.

"Yes?" the nurse stopped, turning back to him. Her eyes were still steady, but her posture had stiffened.

"How do you know where Igorus is?" the Marshal asked, his voice low and commanding.

"We received a report from the nearest battalion to the hospital," she replied.

"Every report passes through me first before reaching any other institution," he said, stepping closer. "So tell me..."

The air shifted. A faint crimson aura began to pulse around his body, an invisible weight pressing down on the nurse. Her composure faltered. Fear flickered in her expression. Her fingers fidgeted against the documents, tapping anxiously.

"M-Mar—"

"Marshal!" Kaeda's voice rang out from behind him.

"Tch!" Mildura's focus broke for a split second. The nurse's lips curled into a wicked smile, a jarring contrast to her earlier calm, and she bolted down the hall.

"Damn it!" the Marshal shouted, his wings snapping open as he launched after her. He was faster, far faster, but a dark portal materialized in front of her.

"Heheh..." the nurse smirked, her expression now openly malevolent. Without hesitation, she leapt into the portal, which vanished a heartbeat later, leaving only empty air before the Marshal's eyes.

"Damn it all!" Mildura roared, slamming his fist into the tiled floor. The impact shattered several tiles but left the building intact.

"W-who was that? A nurse?" Kaeda asked, still breathless and confused.

"She was hiding something," Mildura said, straightening up. "Damn... I almost had her. If you hadn't called out—"

Kaeda froze, unsure whether to apologize or defend herself.

"The police district is hiding something," the Marshal continued, his tone heavy with suspicion. "Something the enemy could use. I don't know what they're after in this hospital. I thought it was about that boy's body, but no. Something else happened here. Someone was here before us. Now it's all been wiped clean. And you don't remember anything either, do you?"

Kaeda glanced around the corridor, as if hoping to see something that would prove him wrong, but nothing came to mind.

"Y-yes. I had a moment of confusion myself, probably from working too long. Hahaha... ahh..." she exhaled wearily, trying to mask her unease.

"Hm..." Mildura looked at her thoughtfully. "Take the body to the morgue. I'm going to the police station. I need to check something."

With a beat of his brownish wings, he took off down the corridor, passing her in a blur.

"O-okay," Kaeda replied quietly, bowing her head as he disappeared from sight. She turned and began to walk the opposite way, her footsteps echoing through the hollow halls.

Then, her left foot stepped on something. Soft. Strange. She looked down. A single golden hair lay on the floor.

She blinked, once, twice, and it was gone.

"Must've been my eyes," Kaeda whispered, and kept walking, not daring to think about it any further.

Somewhere else within the hospital, the dark portal reappeared, and from it stepped out the suspicious nurse. She kept walking down the corridor, her eyes devoid of any glimmer, as if a lifeless doll had been given a command to fulfill, not out of duty, but out of an inexplicable sense of will that couldn't be expressed.

She stopped.

For a moment, in that desolate corridor where no staff member was in sight, her body began to tremble. The trembling intensified until blood began to leak from her ears and nose, then from her mouth. Her jaw widened unnaturally; the flesh of her lips tore as two hands forced their way out, prying open her mouth like a gate to an underground world. The entire mass of flesh collapsed to the floor, and from it, a figure emerged.

A head.

A torso.

Legs, forming out of the thick, suffocating darkness.

The shadows around him receded in fear until the figure was fully revealed, Lazrael, his entire body drenched in blood, like a newborn dragged from the womb of death. He shook himself violently like a dog after a bath, scattering crimson droplets across the abandoned objects of the hospital, painting forgetfulness itself with life's residue.

"Everything went according to plan, madam," he said, gazing ahead at the dreadful silhouette before him, a shadow where everything and nothing were devoured alike.

"What was it you hoped to find in such a... let's say, inspiring place?" came a soft, melodic female voice from beyond the darkness.

"I merely wanted to reclaim one of my past failures. Though, in truth, it seems to have served me far better than I expected," replied Lazrael.

"Mmm... I see who you mean," she said. "Sometimes failures become successes. Much like the corpses that litter this hospital. Gods are meant to be perfect, and yet they die as pitiful creatures. I rather enjoy watching them, these little collections of death. I like seeing their numbers grow, leaving behind this pretty little place, once so full of life."

"I assume you know the mission King Tarnael, or rather you, madam, assigned to me," said Lazrael.

"Lazarus," she purred, "why didn't you kill that Dominion?"

"Hm?"

"You could have slain him with the Draken I lent you. You know what Draken is; the most terrifying force in existence. Death incarnate. No one can defend against it. Yet you walked away from a victory that was yours for the taking. Tell me... were you afraid?"

"I didn't wish to draw unwanted attention. And besides, my mission doesn't include unnecessary deaths," Lazrael said calmly.

"Being clever doesn't make you a good liar," the woman said, her tone shifting into something almost teasing.

Lazrael's eyes narrowed, staring into the darkness that hid her form, a presence without eyes, without mouth, without any discernible feature, and yet completely consuming.

"Then why kill the others?" she continued. "Were those deaths necessary? Or perhaps you fear your own perfection, Lazarus. Perhaps you ran because you couldn't stand to see your standards, your precious ideal of self, stained by the blood of someone stronger. You feared losing not your life, but your pride. You feared your genius might falter against something irrational, something that exists only in your mind. You, Lazarus, are a slave to yourself."

His fists clenched tight.

"Even the King of Angels knew long ago that you were never one of them," she went on, her voice now sharp and enthralling. "You were merely made to seem like one, a replacement, a puppet, sent on a 'mission.' Tell me, have you ever wondered what you would do if there were no mission left to follow? What would you become, Lazarus?"

Lazrael's eyes trembled with emotions he couldn't comprehend. They stared into nothing, unblinking, his face frozen, yet speaking volumes through its stillness: confusion, anger, emptiness.

"So you see... you're hollow," the woman whispered, her voice rippling through the shadows. "Without me, you're nothing. Do you see it now? How worthless you are?" She began to laugh, soft at first, then rising into an elegant, cruel echo that filled the halls. "Hahahahaha! You take orders, you obey them, and you think nothing afterward. You're perfect for that.

Now, my good boy, go back to your king, that master you serve so faithfully, and deliver those spheres to him. That much, at least, you can manage. Don't waste more time with the toys you've built for distraction. You're a grown man now."

"I'll try," Lazrael said in a deadened tone, his face drained of all life.

"Good boy," whispered the woman one last time.

And for just a fleeting moment, Lazrael's eyes glimmered faintly, the briefest reflection of warmth in a being long since lost...