Eight weeks flew past them like an airplane. Though Edin and Rowan had been working together for the past two months, they still felt like they had not known each other that well. Rowan had not pestered him with queries since the incident in Norman's car. Meanwhile, Edin had not initiated any sort of conversation. Their relationship had been largely professional. While Edin was content with mere professionalism, Rowan was hoping that it would evolve into friendship.

Whatever their relationship was, Edin was grateful that Rowan was eager to slay whatever monster that neared them, even if he was on a break. It was not because Edin was scared of being mauled to death—the beasts that neared the village were lesser threats compared to the glæsseling he had slain. What frightened him more was the prospect of losing control of his own bloodlust. The mere sight of the red liquid would awaken his own inner monster, thirsting for the forbidden drink, and had he not been inside the post he would have charged towards the beast and butchered it himself. And so, instead of watching his partner and making sure that he could hold his own on the battlefield, he would look away until he had returned. He wondered if Rowan was tired of doing all the killing.

On the contrary, Rowan was quite happy with the unofficial arrangement. As Norman had told them, each guardian was paid for every beast they slew in addition to their monthly wage. Each brute that dared to prowl near the post brought a smile to his face instead of fear. Ordinaries would see death; Rowan would see a paycheck. When he was not out on the field, stabbing and beheading the poor beasts, he would be lounging inside the post, calculating what his income would be and thinking of all the ways he could spend it. Before the first month had even ended, he had procured enough funds to buy an affordable yet reliable car. By the end of the second month, he had two homes: a modest house in his hometown, where he would reside during the weekends; and a compact apartment he rented in the village, where he would stay during weekdays and workdays.

In addition to the enviable pay, the act of killing the beast itself was rewarding to him. Each battle brought him an adrenaline rush that coursed through his veins. He would deal with the larger monsters rather quickly, but toy around with the smaller ones. He would tease them for minutes by mindlessly waving his metal whip around, pretending that he was a tamer at a circus, before delivering a deathly blow that would end them in split seconds. He was, however, disgusted by brutal torture and excessive gore, even if the subject of agony was a beast. Though the beasts' fearsome figures and disfigured carcasses did scar his mind, he had grown accustomed to them.

This was why Rowan thought of Edin as a peculiar person, seemingly averse to murder though it was the main part of the job. Sure, the monthly salary was already handsome on its own, but he could not fathom why anyone would not seize the opportunity to earn even more, especially if it was not that hard. Then again, Edin was living with Arden Mægenstern. Even a year's worth of their salary, combined with the pay they would get by slaying a thousand beasts, would not even be a penny to the vast amount of wealth that Arden possessed. No, Edin did not need the extra money. He had extra money—assuming Arden had given him a separate income.

And so these two very different men ended up getting along with no difficulty despite their drastic differences. On one hand, Edin was averse to slaughter and anything related to it; on the other hand, Rowan was always looking forward to the battlefield, both in the literal and figurative sense.

Then the third month came.

It was another regular day at work. Edin reclined in his rolling chair as he watched the monitors, Rowan sitting not far from him. In the latter's hand was an ice-cold cup of water. He sipped as they watched the screens for any threats.

A dark mark formed in the corner.

"What d'you think that is?" Rowan asked.

"Might be a car," Edin said, folding his arms across his chest. He knew it was unlikely to be a car from the shape of the mark. He was stating his wish.

Rowan continued drinking. They observed the mark. It grew in size. Its hazy form morphed into something more recognizable as it slinked towards them. The first thing Edin noticed was its backward-bent knees.

Rowan nearly choked on his water. "D'you see that?"

"Are you talking about the knees?"

Rowan nodded, a worried frown framing his face. Dread laced his voice as he asked, "Is that a glæsseling?"

"We can't be sure," Edin replied, though he was certain that it was a glæsseling. "Senior Norman said that only small beasts roam near here, not bigger ones like glæsselings. Let's zoom in."

Edin pushed against the floor with his feet and rolled towards the control panel. His right hand gripped a joystick while his left rotated a knob. The beast grew till its ghastly figure filled an entire screen. Its slit-like eyes glared at them, and its long snout revealed a row of long, pointy teeth. It snarled. At once, they could see its distinctive tongue.

Rowan gulped. "It's a glæsseling."

"I know."

The two stared at each other for a moment. Neither party was willing to leave the post.

"Uh, Edin, you haven't killed a single beast the whole time we were here," Rowan reminded him. "Why not you do it this time?"

"I would, but, that thing caused me trauma."

"That thing caused you trauma?"

"Well, when I killed one—"

"You've killed a glæsseling?" Rowan exclaimed. "Edin, you get out there. You've done it before. I don't want to do the killing this time."

Edin took a deep breath. He reluctantly rose from his chair and paced towards the door. His fingers wrapped around the metal handle—it was cold, almost unusually so, as if to tell him to turn back. He could not. He pushed it downward, opened the door, and set foot on the desert.

The beast was still a far distance from him, but it was close enough to fill him with fear. Edin refused to draw his sword. No, he would not draw blood from the beast this time. He could find another way. He would find another way. He had fire and lightning at his disposal.

Rowan watched the scene unfold from the comfort of the post. He was leaning forward as he sat on the chair, elbows on his lap, fingers fidgeting, eyes focusing on nothing but the many screens in front of him. He eyed his partner with curiosity. It was not hard to be curious—for one, he had never seen Edin in action; two, he had slain a glæsseling before; and three, he was a student of Arden Mægenstern, the most powerful and important guardian in Idelhen. He could not help but look forward to what was about to transpire. Rowan held his breath as he saw the distance closing between the beast and his partner. They were about to clash.

Edin halted in his tracks. The beast, too, had stopped. They were about a hundred meters apart. The glæsseling lifted its head. Its nostrils flared; it was sniffing the air for prey.

Edin extended two fingers from his arm and prepared his stance. He aimed. Goosebumps ran across the surface of his skin as he gathered electricity in his fingertips. He recoiled his arm slowly.

The beast lowered its head. It snarled.

Then its sharp tongue shot towards him.

He thrust.

Slash.

Crack!

Its tongue pierced the top part of his shoulder. Edin cried out in pain as he clutched his bleeding wound. He looked at it. Crimson was flowing.

And it painted his vision.

Edin gripped the tongue and yanked it out of his shoulder. He glared at the beast—his lightning had felled it. Another bolt would kill it.

But he would not kill it just yet.

He summoned a sword. Tongue still in hand, he cut off its tip.

The beast wailed. It tried to reel in its tongue, but his grip remained firm. He took a step and sliced through the organ. It wailed louder. He did not let go. He stepped forward and cut off some more. And more. And more. As he shortened the distance between him and the beast, so did he shorten its tongue, leaving a bloody trail behind him. The creature's squalls curled his lips into a smile—music to his ears.

Rowan gasped upon the display of sadism. This was torture! He desperately wanted to look away, but his curiosity compelled him to keep looking. Edin would kill it soon. Rowan was sure of it. He did not seem like he could become any crueler.

At last, Edin was standing right in front of the beast. What he did next horrified his partner.

He tore its tongue from its throat—with his bare hands.

The creature unsheathed its claws and swung its limbs. Tried to fight back. He severed them with his sword.

He tormented the beast with his blade, driving it through every body part except the vital organs. It bawled and begged for him to stop, rolling on the coarse ground, but he would not relent. Its death would be slow, and he would relish every minute of it.

Rowan covered his ears, but he could not block out the beast's agonizing screams. A chill ran down his spine once he heard a second voice coming through the speakers.

It was the sound of a man cackling.

At last, Rowan could not stand it. He jumped out of his seat, barged through the door, and sprinted towards Edin. His heart thumped harder than it ever had. It must stop at once!

Before Rowan could say anything, he saw Edin piercing the beast's heart. Its bloody body stilled, and Rowan breathed a sigh of relief.

And then he widened his eyes once he witnessed the same sword beheading the corpse. It then resumed mangling the dead thing.

Though it had stopped moving, Edin did not stop stabbing. He could not stop. He would not stop until every drop of blood had flown out of its bleeding body. He swung his blade up and down, back and forth, opening every vein he could find. A euphoric cry erupted from within him once he sliced its main artery, unleashing a fountain of dark red.

"Edin! It's already dead!"

Edin snapped out of his trance, his menacing smirk replaced by a clueless expression. He looked downward. The glæsseling was now nothing more than strewn organs drowning in a pool of blood. He was soaked in crimson from top to bottom, the color staining most of his skin. His lips parted in disbelief.

He then looked at Rowan. Rowan stood roughly ten meters from him; his eyes and mouth were wide open in sheer shock. If one were to replace Edin with the ghastliest creature that could be conjured, Rowan would be just as petrified. To say that he was frightened would be a severe understatement.

"I-I was just making sure that it was dead."

They both knew that it was not the case.

"Anyway," Edin said, trying to diffuse any awkwardness, "I'll clean this up—"

"No it's okay, I'll clean this up—"

"No it's—"

"No I'll clean it up," Rowan insisted. He marched towards the carcass and retrieved something from his pocket. "You go get changed. There's blood all over you."

Edin gave a quick nod and let his sword fade into thin air. He returned to the post, leaving behind a trail of red footprints, and scraped his soaked shoes on the doormat before he entered. He took a step. There was a bit of red where his sole met the floor, but it was barely visible. He could wipe it off with tissue later. He fetched a spare set of clothes from the storage room, headed to the bathroom on the second floor, and refreshed himself.

Meanwhile, Rowan was cleaning up the mess that Edin had left, occasionally averting his gaze so that he would not look at the disfigured corpse for long. He shuddered. The scattered body parts were already unnerving to look at. What chilled him more was the fact that his partner, the quiet and unassuming one, was the one who was behind it. He never guessed Edin was capable of such violence. The manner in which he was violent unsettled him too. Sure, Rowan had experienced thrills when he was slaying beasts, but what he saw in Edin was not adrenaline. It was something else completely. Thirst. Lust. It was almost as if Edin found pleasure in bloodshed. Perhaps he did. Rowan shuddered once more. He would not be surprised if his partner licked the blood off his blade had he not stopped him in time. He wondered if he would have known of Edin's bloodthirsty nature had he not pushed him to slay the glæsseling.

When he was almost done decomposing the body, Rowan's mind rewound to the times he and Edin were in the same room. He appeared so innocent. So unthreatening. So harmless. He recalled his reluctance to kill any monster, no matter how small it was. He now understood why Edin was so reluctant to fight.

If Edin made even the smallest cut, he would not be able to stop himself.