AN: Oh, this chapter was fun! I've been dying to write Varuna the moment I started this fic. So protective :3c Hope you enjoy reading~!

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Chapter 7:

It took both Denzil and Talon to drag an unwilling Bryce toward the stone structure in the centre of the chamber. Where they set about actually chaining him down upon the altar with the use of shackles and chains. Flat on his back, his arms pulled out to his sides as chains anchored him to the structure.

And all Falkner could do was watch.

He knew that Bryce had the abilities and will to fight the two men easily. But he did not. In his mind, he couldn't. Not with the way Naseer kept Falkner at bay with a knife to his throat.

Frustratingly, he was only there to ensure Bryce's continue compliance.

"What are you going to do?" Falkner asked, peering at Naseer from the corner of his eye.

"He's just a conductor," Naseer cryptically replied.

"What's going to happen to him?"

Naseer shrugged carelessly as he readjusted his grip on the knife mere inches away from Falkner's throat. "We'll just have to find out."

To be so dismissive of someone's pain was greatly disturbing.

When they were satisfied that Bryce was fully restrained, Denzil and Talon stepped away from him. And off the altar. Naseer lowered the knife from Falkner's throat and promptly handed it to Talon, who then took on the task of guarding Falkner. A task he took on too willingly.

Falkner made no attempt to hide his disgust when Talon snared by his elbow and dragged him closer toward him.

Talon had long abandoned his mask, and he shot Falkner a conceited smirk. "The show is about to start."

Yeah, that sounded ominous.

Bryce pulled at the shackles. "What the fuck you planning to do now?" he spat.

Denzil stepped back from the altar and folded his arms impatiently. "The greatest treasure owned by the Adalbern family is this altar. Through the use of this altar, powerful spells can be transferred into other objects. Unfortunately to some, it requires a human presence to be used as a conductor."

And that sounded really ominous.

Naseer approached the altar and pulled out a book that was hidden in his runemaster robes. He flipped the book open and then tore out two pages. For some reason, Falkner found that both surprising and unsettling. His concern only increased when Naseer dropped the book to the floor without a concern and walked around the altar to stand by Bryce's head.

He then took the two pieces of paper and placed them upon the altar, each one on either side of Bryce's head.

Standing up tall, Naseer pressed his hands together in front of him in a position similar to that of someone in prayer. He began speaking a string of words that Falkner did not understand, but had heard Nitish utter on numerous occasions.

The two sheets of paper suddenly disintegrated into black ash and then...turned into writings and symbols. The archaic writing flittered over the stone and touched the bare skin of Bryce's arm.

And Bryce screamed.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he withered upon the stone altar, desperately tugging at the chains and shackles. His back arched up off the stone as he continued to make various noises of pain and suffering.

"Bryce!" Falkner tried to move forward, but Talon had a firm grip on his arm and kept him back.

All Falkner could do was watch helplessly as his teammate, one who would never reveal the true extent of his injuries and pain, scream out in agony.

He tugged desperately at his bindings as the ancient writing flowed from the altar and onto Bryce's skin. It appeared as if the writings were flowing, moving tattoos. Snaking its way over Bryce's skin and body.

Falkner's movements became more frantic when Denzil boldly stepped toward the altar, and stepped upon it. As he did so, he slowly extracted a blade from a sheath at his side. He stepped over Bryce's body, one foot on either side of his hips as he stared down at him with sadistic impassiveness.

He gripped the handle of the sword in both hands, the shining silver blade down toward Bryce.

Falkner's heart stopped in his chest.

Denzil then stabbed Bryce...in the arm.

Bryce did not even react to the attack. The writings that were flittering over Bryce's skin suddenly unfurled, moving toward the blade that pierced his skin. As the archaic writings left his skin, he gave a strangled cry. And then, he slumped down against the altar and panted loudly, gasping desperately for breath.

Still unconcerned, Denzil removed the blade from Bryce's arm, allowing blood to flow unimpeded upon the altar. He stepped over Bryce once more, barely giving him a second look as he removed a handkerchief from his pocket, idly wiping the blood from the blade.

Falkner lurched away from Talon suddenly, catching him by surprise. His sharp, sudden movements also resulted in the ropes loosening around his wrists. He gave one last strong tug at his bindings and was rewarded with his hands being freed.

He did not have time to feel relief at regaining the use of his hands. He scrambled upon the altar and dropped down to his knees by Bryce's side. He immediately began work on removing the shackles from his wrist, noticing with a wince that the delicate skin of his wrists was bloodied and bruised.

It was the sword wound in Bryce's arm that had Falkner's full concern, however.

Falkner was slightly grateful that Denzil aimed just for Bryce's arm. With the hatred he had for him, he figured that Denzil would aim for somewhere more vital. Still, the injury was not ideal in the slightest.

Bryce was bleeding quite heavily.

"Bryce, can you hear me?" Falkner asked, his heart in his throat as he gathered his teammate into his arms and let him rest upon his lap. "Say something."

The only response was Bryce's heavy breathing.

He was so pale. Unconscious, unmoving. His breathing laboured. Eyes squeezed shut tightly. Falkner had never seen him in such a terrible state. Not since he was attacked by a FOE in the Lush Woodlands so long ago. He had endured numerous injuries and battles since then. He was in really bad shape.

What had that ritual done to him?

Promptly realising that he had a medica in his pocket, Falkner pulled it out and promptly poured the contents upon Bryce's wound. He then revealed a handkerchief and tied it tightly around the arm, knowing that with Bryce in such a state, he needed the healing to be slow.

What Bryce really needed was Isiah's healing.

"Hmm, I can feel a slight difference within the blade."

Shifting slightly to get a better grip on Bryce's arm, elevating it to ensure he did not bleed out, Falkner shot Denzil a glare. "What are you planning to do with that?" he asked as the deranged man inspected his blade impassively.

"Vengeance, I suppose," Denzil murmured. "Toward those who punished my grandmother for crime of being born from the wrong father."

That was such a narcissistic way of framing it.

"This sword is imbued with the skills of sudden death to enemies while increasing the wielder's strength and defence." A smirk finally crept its way upon Denzil's lips. "Quite impressive, wouldn't you agree?"

Sudden death...? Didn't nightseekers already possess an assassination skill?

...No, he did possess it. But he wanted to ensure death came to his victims.

"My lord," Naseer approached Denzil, "these tomes-"

"Do what you wish with the tomes," Denzil stated as he slowly placed his blade back into its sheath. "I have no need for them. In fact, if you find anything in regard to the Adalbern, destroy them. Just like they tried to destroy my grandmother."

Naseer nodded his head eagerly before he scurried toward a bookcase. Talon watched the runemaster with an indifferent stare before he, too, turned his attention toward their so-called lord.

"What about them?" he asked, indicating toward Falkner and Bryce with a tilt of his head.

Denzil's cold stare flickered over toward them. "I've decided that in order for Adalbern to pay for their abandonment of my grandmother, a Adalbern to become my slave. Fitting, wouldn't you agree?"

What? Was he crazy?!

"Bryce would never allow himself to become anyone's slave," Falkner snapped in response.

Denzil gave him a chilling smirk. "All the better."

"In that case, can I have the redhead?" Talon suddenly asked, his gaze predatory as he stared directly at Falkner. "He looks fun."

"He's a willing companion to a Adalbern. Do what you want."

"Oh, I plan to."

Falkner unconsciously pulled Bryce closer to him.

Those men were greatly disturbed individuals. He could not even begin to imagine the utter hatred Denzil had seething under his skin. To hate someone so intensely because of their supposed family connection. To hate someone for how they perceived them to be, rather than who they really were. Bryce knew nothing of the Adalbern family. Never knew about the vault. Never knew of the scandal that eventually destroyed the Adalbern family.

Yet, he was being punished for the supposed crimes of his supposed ancestors.

Talon was equally vile in his own way. Yet, his motives were a complete mystery. He did not seem interested in the numerous treasures around them. Seemed to find joy in evoking fear in others.

Naseer's motives were likely much simpler; he wanted the vast knowledge stored in the possibly hundreds of different tombs. But what kind of knowledge was he searching for? How did he know how to conduct the ritual? Did he have plan for others?

He did not like not knowing a single thing about his enemies.

Falkner's jaw tightened. He could not take the three of them on his own, especially without a weapon of any description. But Bryce needed medical attention. He had no idea what that ritual did to him, but the way he screamed...

He had to find a way to get Bryce to safety. And fast!

"Bryce!"

Falkner snapped his head up and looked toward the entrance of the vault. Where a thankfully familiar nightseeker stood. He immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Varuna, over here!"

Varuna immediately honed in on his direction, and indifferent to the other men in the room, darted over to where they were, still situated upon the altar. Varuna reached Bryce's side and dropped to his knees. He took Bryce's hand in his, gently stroking his face with the back of his hand. His touch, however, did not awaken Bryce from unconsciousness.

And that disturbed him greatly.

"What happened?" Varuna demanded. "Who did this?"

"They did," Falkner readily replied, indicating over Varuna's shoulder with a sharp up-tilt of his chin. "They used him in some kind of ritual. I don't know any more than that."

Varuna immediately spun around, somewhat startled to note that there were in fact other people in the room with them. His gaze soon landed on Denzil, however, and despite not knowing a single thing about him or the situation, he glowered at him with venom in his gaze.

"You..." Varuna's voice was low and menacing as he slowly stood up. His shoulders were hunched, his hair falling over one side of his face as his hands reached out to wrap around the handles of his blades. "What did you do to Bryce?"

"You better drop your sword, or he'll see you as a threat," Falkner advised the other nightseeker.

But Denzil shook his head. "No. I think I'll see what this blade can really do."

Typical. Though, he had to admit that he was looking forward to seeing Denzil have his ass handed to him by Varuna. That newly enhanced blade of his, however...

"Varuna, that blade-"

"Look after Bryce for me," Varuna interrupted as he took a sturdy step forward. "I'll handle this."

Denzil unsheathed his blade in a threatening manner. "This should be quite entertaining. Let's see how well you'll fare against this blade, shall-"

Varuna darted forward suddenly, moving so quickly that Denzil did not have the time to finish his antagonistic ramblings before he received a brutal kick to the centre of his body. Under the ribs and above the stomach. So violent was the attack that Denzil's eyes widened, his breath escaping with a rush of air from his lips, and he lurched backwards several feet.

"Take that blade," Varuna growled, "and shove it clean up your ass."

Denzil dropped down to one knee; his weapon stabbed into the ground for support as he wrapped an arm around his stomach. He coughed and spluttered a couple of times to get his breathing. After a few seconds, he peered up at Varuna and sent him a furious, violent glare. "How dare you..."

Varuna did not care much for that glare, nor his words he uttered with a growl. He was so unimpressed that he lurched forward; blades unsheathed swiftly from his sides. Denzil's eyes widened a fraction before he abruptly leapt to his feet, raising his weapon just in time to clash against Varuna's blade.

"That weapon is said to have instant death!" Falkner exclaimed toward Varuna.

But the white-haired nightseeker did not respond. Did that mean he was in Silent Assassin Mode? If so...Denzil was going to be for a very brutal fight. Falkner had only witnessed Varuna in such a state a couple of times, but he was as efficient as he was brutal.

But only toward threats.

Falkner readjusted his hold on Bryce. With Varuna here, then that meant that others could not be far behind. How Varuna had found them, he would have to find out later. He was intensely grateful, whatever the method.

Still, he and Bryce were not out of danger yet. A fact that Falkner was quickly reminded of when Talon stepped in his line of sight.

"Yeah, I think I'm just going to take what I want and leave," he said with a perverse grin. "How about you?"

Falkner glared at him. "Go to hell."

Talon's grin grew more sadistic. It disappeared a moment later, however. He suddenly lurched his head backwards, just as something silver flew past his face, just grazing the very tip of his chin. His eyes darted to his right and he made the motion to reach for his own weapons.

Only for a figure dressed in black to appear right next to him, and deliver a swift kick to his side, striking in the approximate area were his two lower ribs resided. The kick forced Talon out of his line of sight, where he was promptly replaced by another nightseeker.

Another nightseeker that was thankfully familiar.

"Falkner!"

That...that was the first time he had heard Telem raise his voice.

He was worried for him, wasn't he?

"I'm fine!" He definitely was now.

"For Christ's sake," Talon muttered as he held his side with one hand, with the other promptly revealing several knives hidden in his jacket. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

Telem snapped his head in Talon's direction but peered at Falkner from the corner of his eye. "Did he do anything? How many are there?" he asked as he drew his dual blades.

Falkner could not help but send Talon a satisfied smirk. "There's only three of them. And this guy is all yours. Kick his ass."

Telem's eyes narrowed. "Very well," he uttered, his words terse.

He then sprung forward, immediately engaging with Talon in battle.

Falkner readjusted his hold around Bryce once more, tightening his grip on his arm when he noticed that blood was beginning to seep through. He looked down at his teammate and frowned, worry causing a pain to appear in the centre of his chest. To be unconscious for so long was not a good sign. It was so...unlike him.

What kind of damage had that ritual caused him? Would he be able to recovery from it?

No, he could not think like that. Ok, so Varuna and Telem had managed to track them down. The others were not far behind. All he needed to do was wait and keep an eye on Bryce to ensure he kept breathing.

"Naseer, do something about these assholes!" Talon suddenly shrieked.

Well, Talon certainly lost his confidence quickly. Not much a tough talker when he was facing off against someone who was more than willing to engage in a fight, was he?

"Very well," Naseer answered coolly as he stepped out from behind a bookcase, a large leatherbound tome in his hands. "I've uncovered a few more Burst Skills. Let's see what these spells can achieve."

Burst Skills? Damn it...

Naseer cradled the tome in the hook of his arm as he raised the other above his head. He closed his eyes in concentration and began to utter runic words once more. His voice grew louder as he moved through the verses.

A rain of jagged ice shards suddenly rained down around him, prompting him to wince and curl in toward himself in an attempt to shield himself from the shards. The unexpected attack caused him to stop mid incantation.

Where did that come from?

"No," an all too familiar voice stated calmly as he, too, stepped into the vault. "I won't let you do that."

Nitish. And he was not alone. Isiah and Biast stood by the vault's entrance, the purple-furred bushi in a guarding stance while the skilled medic swept his gaze quickly over their surroundings.

There were not enough words to describe Falkner's relief.

"Isiah, over here!"

Isiah immediately narrowed in on his direction, and without hesitation, hurried over to him. His gaze soon fell upon the unmoving Bryce in his arms, and his brows furrowed, an expression of expert stoicism on his face.

"Are you ok? What happened?" he asked.

"Something about a ritual." Falkner motioned to the blood-stained cloth around Bryce's right arm. "A sword was stabbed through his arm."

Isiah made no attempt to move Bryce from Falkner's hold, and neither did he. It was the most comfortable place for him, for the time being at least. He aided Isiah the best he could during his inspection of Bryce, dutifully following all he commands.

With Nitish now part of the party, he would be able to keep Naseer busy, while Varuna and Telem took care of the two other nightseekers. It allowed him and Isiah to concentrate entirely on Bryce.

Falkner could not help but wince when Isiah unfurled the what was once a white handkerchief around Bryce's arm. The wound was not particularly large, and thankfully Denzil had angled the blade to miss the bones of his arm. But it looked to have severed a few blood vessels and tendons.

"How is he?" he asked.

Isiah's expression was terse, but not grim. "Low blood pressure, high pulse, unconsciousness. He's alive, but in distress. I need to get him into the clinic so I can ensure his arm doesn't get infected."

An infection was probably Bryce's greatest threat.

"Isiah!"

Prompted by Roxbury's voice, Isiah lifted his head up. "Over here!"

Mere moments later, Roxbury joined them atop of the blood splattered podium. With him were twins Achyuta and Zesiro. It was such a relieving sight to see. Yes, even Zesiro.

"Falkner." Roxbury said, slightly out of breath. "What happened here? Are you ok?"

"Don't worry about me," Falkner immediately replied. "Bryce is in a pretty bad way."

Roxbury glanced down at Bryce and a flicker of shock and concern appeared in his eyes. He pushed aside his emotions, however, and took on a commanding role. "Biast, take him and Isiah back to the clinic as quickly as possible. And Falkner-"

"I'll stay here," Falkner interrupted. "Don't worry about me. I'll just slow you guys down."

He had already caused Bryce enough trouble. The last thing he wanted to do was to delay his healing.

As Falkner helped Biast to take Bryce into his arms, a loud crash echoed throughout the vault, causing Falkner and others to wince at the noise. The source of the sound, however, was something Falkner could not help but find a bit satisfying and amusing.

Denzil had crashed through a bookcase, breaking the wooden structure and scattering books across the floor. He landed flat on his back atop of the rubble, his arms splayed out to his sides, with obvious pain on his face as he heaved desperately for air. He looked as though he had endured a powerful kick to the stomach, one that sent him flying.

And it was obvious who landed such an attack.

Varuna stalked silently from the dark corners of the vault, his weapons down by his sides, his white hair covering the left side of his face. Only a piercing, crimson coloured eye could be seen.

"H-he has the blood of a Adalbern!" Denzil bellowed as he hauled himself into a seating position, something that took a lot of effort to do. "He probably lived a life of privilege!"

Varuna tensed, violently.

"Privilege?!" he suddenly spat, true rage in his voice as he stalked closer to Denzil. "His mother is a selfish con-artist. He doesn't know who his deadbeat father is. He doesn't know who his half-brother's father is. He doesn't know any of his family members. He doesn't even know if he has other siblings out there."

He...he was talking. He never did that in Silent Assassin Mode before. That meant he was not in the trance. That meant...he was simply furious.

...Understandable, really.

Denzil scrambled to his feet and held his blade in front of him. His grip was shaky, however, and there was an expression of distress, no utter fear on his face.

"He has nothing to do with your so-called ancestor's troubles. Nothing to do with you," Varuna continued. In one fluid movement, he stabbed his blades into the ground by his feet and lunged forward. He bypassed Denzil's blade easily.

He then snared him by the collar of his shirt with one hand, as the other grabbed the belt of his pants. He twisted his lithe body, and with a strength that Falkner did not know he possessed, he lifted Denzil over his shoulder, off his feet...

"So, how dare you punish him for something he didn't even do?!"

And slammed him head and shoulders first into the ground.

A sicking crack was heard. The sound practically echoing around the vault. Followed by the sound of Denzil released a strangled gasp.

He then fell onto the ground, unmoving.

Varuna stood over Denzil's body, shoulders heaving up and down as he breathed heavily. He staggered suddenly, arms flopping listless by his sides. He jerked to his right, in their direction. Where Biast stood with Bryce lying still in his arms.

"Bryce?" Varuna murmured as he took another unsteady step forward.

Roxbury immediately darted over to stand in front of him. "He's with Isiah. He's going to be fine. You can rest now," he said gently.

Trusting in his words, Varuna fainted, falling straight into Roxbury's arms. His response meant one thing; the threat had passed.

Zesiro stepped forward to stand by Roxbury. He took a moment to take in their surroundings before he turned back to Roxbury, placing a hand on the small of his back. "You lead the guys back to the clinic. Everyone else will stay here..." A sly grin made its way onto his lips. "We'll make sure to take good care of these guys."

Honestly, let the guy have his fun. The bastards deserve it.