Crimson Servant

Francis stepped onto the stairs leading to the top floor room. As soon as he took one step, the wooden stairs creaked like rotten wood under the weight. The sunken cracks and the old and aged wood all showed the danger of continuing to step on them.

The dark elf ignored it and continued to move forward despite the creaking under his feet.

The cracks spread from his feet and spread to the walls, and the old decorations on the surface broke. Everything looked precarious. This dangerous building had exposed the real malice hidden in the danger on the surface. In a crack behind Francis, blood slowly flowed out. The "blood" raised its head and silently approached Francis' back.

When Francis stepped onto the fifth step, the blood tentacles were close enough to launch an attack, and the front end of the tentacles turned into spikes. Behind the steel-luster spikes, two split spiral tentacles were tightly wound like springs, and the tentacles launched their sneak attack.

In just a moment, the tip of the tentacle was cut off and fell to the ground, jumping twice on the steps and rolling downstairs.

Francis retracted his scimitar and looked sideways at the tentacles that attacked him.

He frowned slightly. This "dangerous house" failed to attack and was waking up. The steps under his feet and every wooden strip on the wall were coming alive, turning into an evil nest of flesh and blood.

"I will definitely beat him again." Francis said.

The group of tentacles launched intensive attacks, but Francis's flexible body swayed lightly like paper blown by the wind, dodging all attacks. He quickly jumped onto the steps that were being withdrawn, used the attacks of the tentacles to form a path, and rushed to the top floor.

He saw the only door. The group of tentacles behind him was about to complete the encirclement. Francis wrapped his magic cloak tightly and kicked towards the door.

The seal rune on the wooden door just flapped once, and then it shattered under Francis' violent cracking, along with the wooden door itself.

The dark elf stepped into the room, and at the same time, he heard a sticky explosion coming from the room.

John Kemp, the sorcerer, was covered in blood and his face was covered in red. He stood up from the alchemy table and turned back. The anger in his eyes dissipated after he saw who was coming.

"Francis?" He was a little surprised that the person who came was actually a dark elf. Thinking carefully, the only one who could break through his restrictions and appear in front of him safely was Francis.

The blood on John's body was gradually absorbed by the robe, and the violent tentacles behind Francis also returned to the original appearance of the hotel under the control of the sorcerer.

"You are too involved. Relaxing and carelessness can be fatal." Francis criticized.

"But I'm at home, and I'm afraid you are the only one who is still brave enough to move forward after seeing the flesh and blood. You can wait a little longer and wait for my blood to give me feedback."

Although he said so, John knew in his heart that Francis would not do that. He was hostile to his crimson magic, perhaps this hostility was brought from the Juancrete Plain. He would not touch the activated blood, nor would he compromise with it. Perhaps, the reason why he could be so cruel to John was also because of his feeling for the crimson.

Francis was different from Nora or Marianna who came to visit. He was always "warmly" welcomed by the crimson magic.

"What are you studying? You have locked yourself in the room for a month."

John was about to answer, but suddenly thought that the dark elf's eyes might have seen his behavior this month.

"I thought you had foreseen it, and there was no need for me to repeat these "boring" studies."

The dark elf crossed his arms.

"When Nora pestered you and wanted to tell you those druid bedtime stories about planting beans and getting melons, you never said it was boring. What's important is not how many times you have heard it, nor whether it is boring, but the necessary communication."

John's face turned red when he was reminded of the embarrassing incident. He covered his face with his hands and pretended to be helpless.

"Well, I want to test my new ability. I understand the essence of the Crimson God. I want to try to master the power of God. Can I use some powers like Virtis?" Francis glanced at the warlock's alchemy table. The blood stains from the explosion were still on his table, spreading radially from the center. "Oh, you made a plasma bomb." The warlock was sullen. Francis's ridicule made John a little angry. "It's just because your interference failed! What I'm doing is a great experiment. I'm exploring the possibilities of the Crimson Power. It's not a spell exchanged from Virtis by sacrifice. I'm trying to create myself..." "From nothing to create a life with the Crimson Power." "The God of Sacrifice, the predecessor of the Crimson God, Seclofas, created a world with the Crimson Power. Maybe as a Crimson Follower, I can do better than him." John looked at the dark elves. He didn't know what attitude the dark elves would take towards this experiment. He knew that this exploration of dark taboos would cause disgust among most people. So the sorcerer didn't even tell anyone else, including Marianna, but Francis, he first thought that he couldn't keep any secrets from the dark elves.

Francis's expression didn't change significantly.

"So is there any progress in your 'great' experiment? Not like the progress of this explosion."

"There will be." In fact, there was no progress. The interference of the dark elves only brought the explosion forward by more than ten seconds. Because of his proficiency, John was able to clean himself up quickly after each explosion.

"Don't be too ambitious, focus on the present is what you should do." Francis said.

"Wow, these words are really convincing when you have the power of prophecy."

Francis was not offended by John's sarcasm.

“Our abilities give us radically different ways of living, but that’s not enough to change who we are on the inside.”

The dark elf pointed his index finger at his eyes.

"These eyes can see the future of many people. Most of their futures are death, but that doesn't mean that I have to look at them the same way I look at corpses now."

“Only by accepting others and understanding others can you realize how special you are.”

John opened his mouth.

"Sounds like something Nora would say to me."

John succeeded in making Frances's still sunny expression darken.

"In terms of your talent for stirring up trouble, you are strikingly similar to that idiot druid, John."

It sounded like an insult, but John understood that this was the magical interaction between dark elves and druids. Nora always liked to provoke Francis and then be chased around by Francis with his sword drawn. Chasing may have been a form of entertainment for Nora, just as Francis also used beatings as a means of relaxation.

Realizing that the dark elf's eyes were becoming more and more dangerous, John immediately changed the subject.

"So, what's the matter with you coming to me? You're not the kind of person who comes to chat with me for no reason."

Francis's clenched fists slowly unclenched.

"Our plan. You have completed Nora and Mariana's part, next, is my part."

John nodded.

"Are you asking me to go somewhere to get something related to you again? Companions that I also need to recruit myself?"

Francis shook his head.

"No, I have already arranged a companion for you."

"who?"

John looked into Francis's eyes and realized that the warrior had different plans than the other two.

"My friend and I."

"I will personally assist you in completing the final part."

The warlock laughed, and John couldn't help but curl up his lips. He was immediately confident about this adventure.

"Then please take care of me, my companion, Francis Blade."

The dark elf nodded, and took advantage of the moment when the magician bowed down to salute in a show, and punched John on the forehead, making a thud sound.

"You really don't think you can escape, do you?"

"John Camp."