Searching For Andromeda 63 No Other Choice

"Hosea . . ." Samuel muttered, with a bitter pang in his voice.

Samuel did not know how to feel. He had regarded the incident between him and Arletha to the back of his mind, forcing it out of his system. But this—now Hosea coming to kill him—not only him, but Ephraim too—led Samuel back to the dilemma of having to banter and provoke their perpetrator, or to stay silent with his mind in sheer disarray. To which of the following Samuel had chosen to follow, he had decided to go in between.

Bantering and having a chaotic mind filled with unanswered questions. He was Samuel. His mind was always a mess.

"Burn us to ashes?" Samuel snorted. "Why didn't you kill me when your group had the chance, Hosea?"

Hosea tightened a grip around his staff as he thinned his lips. Samuel knew that his words trigger people's distaste, his demeanor could send anyone bursting him aflame. But this was him. This was Samuel Albrecht. He couldn't really continue acting like an obedient boy, who was ready to obey anyone like that of a loyal pet.

Ephraim glanced back to Samuel, who was now smirking at Hosea, who had now looked at him with a stoic face. Ephraim was a quick learner; he knew what was happening. This man, the one Samuel called 'Hosea', had been in the Guardian's illusory image he showed to him, a probable member of the group Ephraim was considered joining.

However, seeing Samuel's reaction, and the threat this Hosea imposed, Ephraim wholly had second thoughts. Clearly, this man knew Samuel. And perhaps, the whole group does as well.

Is that why Samuel doesn't want to go with them?

His electric-blue eyes met that of Hosea, and all Samuel could see is a person trying to murder him. He couldn't see him the same - the one who was a reasonable person, and a very effective leader. Samuel couldn't see Ephraim with him. He had to take back what he had said about Hosea and Ephraim being similar.

Ephraim wasn't a backstabber.

He was lame, but he wasn't the one who would look like a murderer just to attain some set of goals. Even Samuel knew that much. He didn't need to carry a Ph.D. just to differentiate two people. Samuel sauntered forward daringly, his chin held high.

"Were your group scared of looking bad, so you wanted to do it in a secluded s.p.a.ce?" Samuel challenged, "or you wanted it to be clean, so you ordered only a one-man operation?"

Hosea's eyes were filled with both surprise and an expression Samuel couldn't decipher. He, for a moment, turned silent—completely taken-aback by Samuel's frankness. Samuel didn't regret saying that one bit. He held back earlier because he considered them his saviors. He held back because for once, he truly wanted to be nice. Not that he minded bantering to Esmeralda and to the others. He just wanted to do something for a change, and it this case, smoothing his sharp tongue.

But of course, that didn't last more than several hours. Turns out, they were planning to kill him. Samuel didn't have to please his killers. But then again, he still had this irrational feeling of giving them the benefit of the doubt, even when they had made it clear they were trying to kill him.

Samuel never considered himself as someone soft. He was the kind of person sending people to hate him. He was the kind of guy people would be nice to in person, but talk trash in the back. He knew this, and didn't give a d.a.m.n about it. Samuel was certain that people who usually revered him also had their share of badmouths about his name here and there.

"Really. I thought you all were genuine." Samuel said with a smirk. "Guess I was wrong."

"Shut up," Hosea mumbled. "SHUT UP. You don't know anything!"

"Samuel!"

Ephraim jumped towards Samuel, pus.h.i.+ng both of them to the edge of the stair. Hosea had just unleashed a fireball to their direction, which had burned and left a stamp onto the railings. Samuel felt his heart clench in an unpleasant way. Maybe it was because he gave Hosea the benefit of the doubt. Deep inside Samuel, he wanted to think that this was a mere joke. He just couldn't put his finger to the fact that the one who had saved and fed him, made jokes around him, was now off to cut his head. Or in this case, turn him into a roasted piece of meat.

"Watch out!" Ephraim exclaimed, his eyes darting to each of the fireb.a.l.l.s springing to be unleashed by Hosea's staff. Ephraim seized Samuel by the hand and roused to evade the fireb.a.l.l.s at all cost; soon the two of them were going to the lower ground as they try to dodge Hosea's flames.

"Stop!" Hosea hollered, running after the two as he began to conjure more of the fire spells. He ran to chase them without stopping his chants. Samuel and Ephraim continued to elude them as they drew lower and lower to the clock tower. Ephraim could still see new paths rising like erupting mountains, but he paid no heed to such detail. The only thing he had to think about right now is how to escape this certain mage (?) who was trying to burn them to crisp.

"Wait—!" Samuel uttered, pulling Ephraim back, watching the path they were supposed to go to inciting to collapse into mere debris. It crumbled like concrete dissolving into sand, and falling deeper below.

"You're not going anywhere!" Hosea bellowed from the far distance.

Ephraim and Sam began to turn back, only to have Hosea's flames stopping them to their tracks. Hosea's fire were the color of purple and red, forming a wall of scorch that had surrounded them ablaze. It acted like a cage, entrapping the two of them into a mage's noose.

Samuel and Ephraim had no choice but to stall, looking around with nowhere to go. They were now cornered at Hosea's mercy.

Hosea's dark gaze narrowed down to both Ephraim and Sam, who had now grew more vigilant. Hosea's steps were silent, yet they echoed into the vast like a killer haunting in the streets of Victorian London.

"What now, Hosea?" Samuel, once again, challenged. "What do you want me to do now? Say my last words?"

"Just accept the fact that you're not going to leave." Hosea answers. "Youngling."