The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 31: Chapter 31: An Undying Calamity

Read chapter 31 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 31: An Undying Calamity Warmth spread across Kael's chest. Els' gentle gaze, coupled with the sharp edge of her voice, reminded him of his mom. Slowly, he began to nod, then shifted to shake his head. "Not planning to get hurt." He grinned. "But it's nice of you. Anyway, don't push yourself. Anchors, remember? You don't want to stress yours by running when you should crawl, right?" Els flicked his nose. She chuckled at his grimace. "With how skinny you are, I bet even a breeze could wound you. Try to avoid windy days until I'm done crawling." Kael glared at his arms. Dirty sleeves waved over his skin, too broad to touch it. "Crawl away from me, then." Waving his hand to the edge of the shelter, he grumbled low enough not to be heard about how she blended into the crowd as a man just by changing her dress. As Els moved away, Tonio stopped waving his candle. He folded his coat's sleeves, glanced at his lean but ripped arms, at Kael's, then nodded as if that single contrast explained everything. "No rat meat. Weak." "You, too? Catch your rats and leave me alone." He threw relic 78 at Tonio, then buried himself beneath his blanket. The frame of the round glasses sagged against the cloth, forcing him to peek out. "Bad, bad!" His arm still raised, Tonio showed his teeth. A deep furrow creased Kael's brow, yet he swallowed his retort. Instead, he picked relic 78 up and pointed it at Tonio. "Do you remember why we need them?" At Tonio's reluctant nod, Kael pieced together what the rat-man failed to tell. Four hours since he wore them. They feel worse. Mhh. We must recover before wearing them again, or our eyes will rot as if we hadn't removed them. But for how long? Only Tonio can feel when it's safe. The survivor's truth, or rat instincts? Eventually, he lowered the glasses. "Put them on when they're not bad anymore." Tonio's red eyes darted between the relic and the flickering lamppost outside. For three heartbeats, silence. Then, he coiled on his blanket with a conceding scowl. "Tomorrow hunt. Kael no stop. Okay?" For a moment, Kael closed his eyes. They couldn't conceal themselves simultaneously. Trust Tonio? He did, as weird as it was. What he didn't trust was Tonio's mind. What if he ran into people, or worse, ran to a whore without money to pay for her services? No, he remembers why we hide, his enemies. I can subtly remind him. Until late evening, he disguised his lesson as a question-and-answer game. Each time Tonio's answers made him roll his eyes, he used names he couldn't forget. Strangers report to Garrick. Whores inform Sister Harrow. Not true, but they both hated these two enough that pinning every problem on their backs lifted a weight he didn't know pressed on his shoulders. Somehow, he even found amusement in it. "What would you do if a woman smiles at you?" Tonio squinted. "If woman smile?" Kael tilted his head. "Like the one from earlier." "Pretty." "And pretty people never betray?" Tonio's nose twitched. "Sometimes." "Who pays them to talk?" Tonio paused. "Sister Harrow." Kael nodded once. "Good." When his eyelids couldn't resist the plea of sleep anymore, Tonio stared at him with a new shared understanding. Or rather, the same one he had in the sewers. No matter what happened down there, their enemies remained the same. The sun didn't rise on the slums. Tons of iron made sure it never did. Vagrant sunrays struggled to filter through, only to meet the suffocating embrace of factory steam. All Kael had to measure time was his own exhaustion, the clock tower, and the unchanging glow of the lampposts. Neither woke him up the next day. Instead, a man's voice, too loud, twanging in the chilly air, did. "I tell ya, Jones. We'll butcher the hairy freak together. The booze's ours!" Jake? Kael's eyes flung open as a dozen men cheered at his door. Els threw him a worried glance. "Hide!" He barked, searching for Tonio. The rat-man, crouched on his blanket, let out guttural growls, ready to pounce yet hesitant. He ret