CHAPTER 115: CHAPTER 115 I AM ALIVE???

By one in the morning, four figures were still searching, calling out names into the darkness. Their voices echoed faintly until they reached the narrow road where the accident had happened.

A high, metallic scent hung heavily in the air. They stopped. Norman, who was holding a torchlight with Thomas, swung the beam forward, leading the small group until they halted before the scattered body.

The corpses had been mercilessly dismembered, limbs torn and hanging loosely, each piece looking ready to detach at the slightest touch. The sight was a brutal invitation for the flesh to fall away completely.

Alexander’s foot slipped, but he caught his balance before he could fall. Curious, he looked down to see what had nearly pulled him down.

"Norman, bring the light. Let me see what I stepped in," he ordered.

Norman turned and directed the beam. Just as Alex suspected, it was a pool of dried blood. But it wasn’t just blood—there, half-submerged, was a skeleton, with only scraps of flesh clinging to the bone, its empty gaze fixed on them. Draven felt a sudden bile rise in his throat.

He’d made a huge mistake coming here. He wasn’t used to gory things, and now it surrounded him—the butchered bodies, the swamp of blood, the skeleton. What a disgusting sight.

"About to shit your pants, Draven?" Alex mocked, and all eyes turned to the shivering man.

Draven looked at where Alex stood, then at the curious faces of the other two. Anger flared in his chest at the public humiliation.

"How can you say that when we’re all looking for Xyle and Daniel? Just look at this mess—what if they’re part of it?" Draven shuddered as his thoughts spiraled. He wanted to be optimistic, but it was hard when they were nowhere to be found, and dead bodies kept feeding him the creeping dread that they might have been shut down for good.

"Giving up so soon? Pathetic. What would Daniel say if he found out?" Alex sneered. He stepped out of the dried blood, squatted, and began observing the scene—the corpses littering every corner. He counted ten in total.

"How are you so sure? Aren’t you afraid they’re gone?" Draven asked, his voice trembling.

Alex shook his head. He wasn’t afraid. He trusted those two. Daniel wasn’t an ordinary person—if he could survive someone as deadly as Adrian Valez, what was this? Xylander was the same. And they were together. They were alright.

"All the evidence points to Daniel and Xylander being okay. For one, this blood isn’t theirs. The fact that these people were butchered so mercilessly means the attackers were still pursuing them—meaning they were still alive," Alex explained. "Second, if their bodies aren’t here, it implies they escaped just before the bomb hit. That’s my theory."

His revelation hung in the air, stark and logical. The two servants nodded in agreement, but Draven still felt something was missing.

"Your examination is good, I won’t doubt it. But does it tell us where to look? Time isn’t on our side. You don’t know the dangers in these woods—the cold, the exposure. It’s all worrisome," Draven pressed.

His insight gave Alex pause. He was staring intently at the ground now, analyzing something Draven couldn’t see. What was he looking at? And how was he so good at this?

"I can make out two sets of footprints. They went that way, toward the woods—the path that leads back to the villa," Alex said finally.

Draven’s expression brightened with hope. Was he serious? How did he even see that?

"That’s impressive. Where did you learn to do that?" Draven asked, his interest peaking.

But Alexander didn’t indulge him. He simply pointed ahead. "Thomas, Norman—I hope your torches are ready. We’re venturing in."

With no room for excuses, Alex led the way. Draven followed last, sighing under his breath.

"Piece of jerk. It was just a harmless question," he muttered, his brief spark of interest fading as quickly as it had come. But then another thought struck him—the corpses. Would they just be left to rot?

"Alex, are we just leaving the bodies there?" he called out.

Alex didn’t turn. His voice came out harsh and dismissive. "Those people aren’t our concern. If you want to play grave digger or gardener, be my guest. Go ahead and bury them, St. Draven."

He continued walking, his face set in a stern frown.

Draven didn’t speak again. He kept quiet, walking sluggishly, already exhausted from the relentless trek.

Hisss...

A sound from the bushes froze Draven in his tracks. He looked around, petrified.

"Did any of you hear that? I think it was a snake," he said, his voice tight with alarm.

The two servants stopped and shone their lights around Draven’s feet, searching for the source, but saw nothing.

Alex, however, followed the beam of light and spotted a large python coiled and ready to strike. The others hadn’t seen it, camouflaged as it was, but years of training and experience had sharpened his eyes for things like this.

"Don’t move. Any of you," Alex commanded, his voice low and thunderous.

They all froze.

The hissing continued. Draven began to shake. He promised himself—once they found Daniel and Xylander, he would never put himself in a position like this again. Not only was it dangerous, but Alex used every opportunity to taunt him, to make him feel useless. And lately, he felt useless, even though he tried to convince himself he wasn’t.

Minutes ticked by. Then Alex slowly drew a gun, aiming it directly at Draven.

Goosebumps erupted over Draven’s body. His face went pale, a sickly wash of fear as surprise rashes bloomed across his skin.

"Alex, why are you pointing that at me?" he croaked, his throat dry.

Even Norman grew worried. "Sir, please, lower the gun. Whatever it is, we can resolve it."

Thomas joined in, waving his hands frantically. "Don’t make a rash decision!"

But Alex didn’t lower the weapon. His finger clicked against the trigger. Draven fell to his knees.

"Please, Alex, don’t kill me. I still have so much to do. Remember my unborn baby—Daniel’s child, please!" he begged, rubbing his hands together in desperation.

Alex only smirked. "Bye bye, shit hole."

He pulled the trigger without batting an eye. The bullet shot past Draven’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting his skull to blow apart—but nothing happened. He was still alive.

"I’m alive... I’m breathing," he whispered, stunned.

Thomas stared in terror at what Alex had actually shot. Lying dead beside an oblivious Draven was the massive black python.

"Draven—beside your leg," Thomas managed to point out.

Draven glanced down, then leaped back in horror at the sight of the dead serpent. He nearly flew into Alex’s arms, who caught him in a swift, bridal-style hold—only to drop him just as harshly.

"Climb into my arms like that again, and I’ll say bye bye to your head for real," Alex deadpanned. He turned and continued walking, still following the trail of footprints.

Grimacing, Draven held his throbbing backside. That jerk—why let him believe he was about to die? Why make him blurt out those embarrassing words? He couldn’t comprehend the atrocious things he’d said.

Norman helped drag him to his feet and whispered, "Scared you way too easily..."

Draven stood up begrudgingly, his face sour with rage.

"This isn’t over, Alexander," he promised under his breath.