Fractured God

“Kevin…Kevin!? What's that kid doing here?” Tibaut said as he rushed over.

As soon as he placed his hands on his back, his hands were covered in blood.

“What the!? Holy shit.”

His back was covered in claw marks over a centimetre deep. That wasn't the only injury or even slash on him. He had less serious cuts all over his body, he was bruised all over and had a deep gash in his shoulder.

“What the hell happened to you man, Jesus Christ!” Tibaut couldn't contain his shock as he examined him.

“I-is that his name?” Agnes asked.

Tibaut’s face filled with general confusion, but as the blood left his hands sticky he realised this wasn't the time to be bogged down by something like this.

“Wha? No, his name is Kevin. (I suppose the Jesus I'm thinking of doesn't exist in this world.) Could you pass some of the healing potions you had earlier?”

("...")

(“Oh shit, it's his friend!”) Agnes thought as she nearly tripped over herself trying to get to the crate of potions.

He brought his head down to Kevin's chest and listened to his breathing.

(“Hey, Drake is this breathing good or bad?”)

(“Hmm, he'll be fine for another hour or so.”)

(“Wait, are you saying he'd die in another hour?”)

(“Make of my words what you will.”)

“Was it the priest or some other monster lurking in the dungeon that did this?”

The two pale women looked on at Kevin, unconcerned.

Agnes quickly ran over with two potions in her hands and Tibaut wasted no time emptying them down Kevin's gullet.

It took an entire crate of leftover potions for Tibaut to feel confident about Kevin's recovery. Even that wasn't enough to fully heal him. His bruises went away and looked to be fully healed but the lacerations across his body seemed to have healed skin deep, as he'd squirm whenever Tibaut or the pale girls touched the areas he formerly had wounds.

“How did this happen? Wait a minute in the first place, how the hell did he even get here? Why is he even here? (Drake how long has it been?)”

“Eh? Were you not expecting him?” Agnes asked.

Tibaut shook his head and left him with the two pale women.

“No, I'd be lying if I said I was close to him, besides he probably didn't know I was here. Wait a minute, are they already here?”

“Who?” Agnes asked.

“Uhh…(Well this is sort of a problem. How am I gonna get Agnes outta here with these guys around? Wait, I have bigger things to worry about.)”

As his mind sobered up from his admittedly deep slumber, he realised just how tumultuous the current situation was. He placed his hands on his head and looked to be deep in thought.

Agnes looked on in concern. (“Oh no, is this some group coming after him to kill him? Does someone high up in society want him dead and send the best killers in the country?”)

As Agnes let herself be taken away by her imagination, Tibaut noticed her gaze and straightened his posture.

“Trust me, Agnes, it's nothing serious, I'm just surprised about something.” He said before patting her shoulder.

“Well, if you say so.” She dropped the topic without further prodding.

As he looked at her with unshakeable confidence, he began hounding the miscreant that lay in his mind.

(“Answer me you asshole!”)

(“It's been about 9 hours since you fell asleep, experiment.”) They answered, disinterested. He could just imagine them, crossing their legs while sitting and staring at their nails like a diva when they said this.

And an image of exactly that, with their image blurred enough to obscure their finer details, was the only thing his eyes could see.

(“Sigh, you're so weird, but since you asked, I suppose I should oblige.”) The voice said with a giggle.

He briefly jumped, but kept calm, so as to not cause unwanted panic in Agnes.

(“Stop that you whore! And I thought you said they would be coming in a day?”)

(“How rude of you to call me that when I took on such a tame pose, you're quite the misogynist aren't you?”) They sarcastically remarked.

Tibaut rolled his eyes and the drake was audibly giggling at his annoyance.

(“To answer your question, they were a day away. A work day that is. After all, I never said what type of day I was talking about, you took that definition into your own hands.”)

Tibaut nearly bit his tongue off by accident when he heard those words. His whole body was shaking, teeming with blind rage. He did his best to keep his displeasure internal and began walking around the room in an attempt to calm himself down.

(“I'm going to kill you.”) He thought with strong intent. (“I'm going to make sure-”)

(“Mister murderer, are you sure you can stay down here while your comrades are possibly in trouble?”)

He walked over to Kevin and picked him up.

(“Tsk, when I have the time, I'll deal with you later.”)

(“I look forward to it ♡.”) They answered with an almost disgusting glee in their voice.

As he placed Kevin on his back, and Agnes couldn't help but admire the scenery.

(“That white hair boy isn't too bad himself… Honestly… both their bodies aren't too bad either…”)

As her mind started wandering, using both shirtless boys as a base for her ideas, she couldn't stop herself from drooling.

Oblivious to the vulgar thoughts and ideas flooding Agnes’s mind, he tried to adjust Kevin more properly on his back and began walking.

(“Can you at least help me retrace my steps back to the first floor?”)

(“Do you really believe I was keeping track of the path down here?”)

Why did he even ask? It annoyed him that they didn't have a better option than running around hoping to find the exit but he had to see what was going on.

As he walked towards the entrance, Kevin jolted awake, and Tibaut had to lean forward not to drop him.