UCPA Chapter 38: Annoying Restlessness

Chapter 38: Annoying Restlessness

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: PlumSauce

 

Wizard’s potion produced thick smoke that transformed humans into half-wolf, half-insect monstrosities. Because the concoction contained werewolf blood, werewolves themselves were immune.

The potion affected other beings as well — some went into shock or died suddenly, while others experienced severe limb distortion. The vampires’ reactions were minimal, mostly mental. Several prisoners became violently enraged, while others huddled in corners, trembling or muttering incoherently.

“John, are you all right?” Coraci asked, tilting his head to study him.

“I think so… But also…I don’t know how to explain it.” John wasn’t deliberately withholding the truth — he genuinely struggled to put his feelings into words. He experienced intermittent palpitations and anxiety, almost like a human would. When he passed near the damaged wall, an inexplicable fear washed over him — only to vanish when he caught sight of Coraci and the other guards nearby.

“Let’s hope this helps.” Coraci gathered the white feathers scattered on the ground and distributed them to John and the other guards and prisoners who might still be affected.

The mothman was nowhere to be found, and Mr. Russell could very well have been attacked by one of the creatures. Both the on-duty and off-duty guards mobilized, splitting into three groups: the first to drive unruly prisoners back into their cells, the second to head directly for the warden’s office, and the third — largest — group to search the entirety of the Bunker for newly spawned creatures.

Since these things had once been human, the guards hesitated to harm them at first. But they had become fully mutated — ferocious and impossible to capture — so the guards had no choice but to kill them.

Volvo was tasked with eliminating the rampaging beasts. John, Coraci, and several guards headed out to search for Mr. Russell, taking the shortest possible route through a hidden door prisoners couldn’t pass through, approaching the outer layers of the Bunker.

They soon realized the creature was faster than they were. It moved through ventilation shafts, tearing through walls as it went. The new outer teeth on its mouthparts could bite through the metal wall cores. Also, likely because the “creature” carried no dark attribute, it wasn’t deterred by the runes and holy relics embedded in each wall.

The one digging outward had to be intelligent. It had a clear goal, unlike the others that attacked and gnawed at anything they saw. In fact, it might even have been Wizard himself — if he were the caster, he might have a way to retain his mind.

Near the passage leading to the third gate, they encountered several monsters prowling the area. Coraci suspected they had been deliberately left there to slow the guards down.

Killing them wasn’t easy. A young werewolf guard was injured — his arm bitten clean in half, held together only by a strip of muscle.

“Can you hear me?” Coraci asked, bandaging him and rubbing the fur along his jaw. “Stay focused — do not revert to human form, you hear me? I’m going to set your arm, and it’s going to hurt… You, come help me!”

Several other werewolf guards moved in to help Coraci treat the wound. On a human, such an injury would cause them to bleed out quickly, but in wolf form, their bodies were stronger and blood loss was slower. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t immediately life-threatening.

While they worked, John stayed alone in a small storage room at the end of the passage.

Werewolf blood wasn’t usually tempting to a vampire, but as the blood sprayed, John felt his eyes redden and his fangs bare themselves.

It was probably the influence of the potion’s smoke. Normally, even if a human bled in front of him, he wouldn’t react like this. He had taken the initiative to withdraw into the storage room. A human guard even hooked a baton to the outer door handle.

Even minor injuries took time to treat. During this time, Coraci walked to the storage room, unhooked the baton from the door handle, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him.

“Hey! That’s not a good idea!” a human guard called out. He was in the middle of setting his colleague’s dislocated shoulder.

Coraci’s voice came from inside. “It’s fine. We’ll head out again in a few minutes. I just need to talk to him.”

The storage room was dark and cramped, the shelves along the walls stacked with bottles of cleaning agents. Since John was leaning against them, the bottles and wooden racks trembled.

Coraci drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. In such darkness and tight quarters, closing his eyes actually made him feel a bit more comfortable.

“John, are you okay?” Coraci stepped closer. The room wasn’t large, and he brushed against John’s arm as soon as he reached out his hand.

“Their reactions probably upset you,” Coraci said gently, his hand resting on John’s arm — only for John to suddenly grab him back.

John yanked his wrist hard, pulling Coraci into his arms. He hugged him tightly, forgetting all about the etiquette of bloodkin not bringing their faces too close to someone else’s neck.

Coraci could feel John’s hands shaking, the crushing strength of his arms made it almost unbearable.

Several bottles of cleaning agents clattered to the floor.

“Coraci? You okay in there?” the guards outside called.

“I’m fine — it’s too dark in here, I bumped into something,” Coraci yelled back, trying to keep his voice steady even though his face was pressed into John’s shoulder, making it hard to breathe.

“What if we die here?” John murmured into Coraci’s ear.

Coraci was baffled by the thought. There was danger all around, yes, but they weren’t anywhere near the point of worrying about death.

“Or me. Or you… It’s not impossible,” John continued. “That thing wants nothing but to kill. And even if it’s not that one — even if we survive this — there could be something even worse in the future…”

“John, calm down. We’re both fine right now,” Coraci said, wrapping an arm around John’s back and patting him lightly, hoping to offer some comfort.

He was certain the potion’s smoke was affecting John — and the effects were gradually appearing. Maybe the white feathers didn’t do much for bloodkin.

John shifted, his tight hold loosening into an embrace with his arms draped over Coraci’s shoulders. Coraci felt more comfortable now.

“I keep wondering,” John said, his thoughts scattered and his questions seemingly random, “if I died, or quit, what would happen to you afterward?”

Even he himself didn’t realize that he had been turning this question over in his mind for a long time.

“Coraci, do you know about the hunter Driftwood’s past? He once worked with a vampire. But during a mission, Driftwood didn’t save him, and the vampire was killed by his own kind… They drained his blood, extracted his soul, tortured him until he was like a dried-out corpse, and the sunlight destroyed him completely… I know that’s an extreme case — really extreme — but I can’t help thinking…whether human or vampire, there’s no guarantee we won’t face something just as horrific, right? Especially since we deal with all kinds of dark creatures. Who knows when…”

“John, I’m not going to give up easily — and I will not let you die,” Coraci declared firmly. But at this point, John probably wasn’t listening anymore.

“You’ve always been kind to me,” John said, releasing his hold to cup one side of Coraci’s face with one hand. In the darkness, Coraci couldn’t see him, but John could see Coraci clearly — just as he could see everyone else. “You’ve helped so many different beings… Some I didn’t even know existed. Furnace spirits, Bewildering Monsters, demons… You even treated the mothman warmly, and you’ve been good to the werewolves too. Tell me — if I were human, would you still partner with me? I mean…if I weren’t a dark creature, not bloodkin, would it make a difference to you?”

John’s words tumbled out faster and faster, to the point where Coraci could barely follow. Even though he couldn’t see, Coraci still opened his eyes, keeping them fixed in John’s direction.

“To the Association, am I really any different from a friendly bloodkin in need of rescue? Any different from the werewolves or the mothman? Sorry… I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m not trying to accuse you — I just can’t stop myself from thinking…if one day I left the Association, or if I died, maybe you could partner with Carol. Or Lathander. I’m not irreplaceable. The Association has always worked with all kinds of dark creatures…”

Coraci mirrored him, lifting both hands to hold John’s face.

“John, calm down and listen to me,” he said. He had no idea how close they were in the darkness, but John’s breathing was the only thing he could hear. “You are irreplaceable. Not Lathander, not Carol, and definitely not the werewolves here. Do you hear me?”

John lowered his head slightly, his jaw tight. His fingers slid into Coraci’s hair, clinging to the warmth of human skin.

“If you were human, and you wanted to join the Association, I’d still want you there,” Coraci said firmly. “Instructor Jere could train you, and I’d guide you myself. If you agreed, I’d want you as my partner. I could teach you so many spells. I admit it — I’ve always been passionate about helping all kinds of beings, whether they’re furnace spirits or gilomorphs. But this isn’t just my work — it’s ours. We’ve always helped them together. This job is my pride…but more importantly, it’s the reason I met you. Isn’t that true?”

John looked up at him. There wasn’t a single trace of light in the storage room, so Coraci couldn’t see him — but John could see Coraci perfectly. His gaze was slightly off-center, not quite meeting John’s eyes. John found it a little funny, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

Coraci went on. “If you want to ask what makes you different from other dark creatures, it’s simple. I help them — sometimes heal them — but when we were dealing with the gilomorph hostage situation, when we were figuring out how to catch the Clade dogs, when we were helping the headless knight and Mr. Burton, when we were dealing with the Abyssal species’ problems… the one protecting me, helping me, was you. You’re not my rescue case. You’re part of my life — my partner and my friend. Whether you’re bloodkin, human, or something else entirely, that will never change.”

He pulled John into an embrace, one arm slipping beneath his to wrap around his back, his hand patting gently. It was almost like comforting a child, but it worked.

“I’m willing to help Burton, or any bloodkin here, but I wouldn’t let them feed on me. Honestly, I didn’t even want to come to the Bunker as a temporary guard — it doesn’t suit me. But because you were coming too, I felt at ease. You and I have been through a lot together — things no one else here has. You’re John Lockland. You’re not just anyone, and no one could ever replace you. Do you understand?”

John held him lightly. Words still swirled in his mind, too hazy to form a complete thought — like scraps of paper caught in a breeze.

“Coraci… I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry too,” Coraci murmured. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be living your old life — writing little reports for magazines, working like an ordinary person. You wouldn’t be facing demons, wizards, and creatures you’d never even heard of before.”

John chuckled. “Funny — clearly I’m the dark creature and you’re human. But somehow it feels like our roles are reversed.”

“Then…do you want to keep living like this?”

“I do.”

With their companions’ help, the human guard’s dislocated wrist was temporarily set, and the werewolf with the severed arm was able to stand again. The storage room door opened, and Coraci and John stepped out together.

“He all right now?” one of the guards asked cautiously, glancing at John.

“He’s fine,” Coraci replied. “It was just the potion’s smoke. The symptoms have eased a little.” He patted John’s shoulder as he spoke.

They pressed forward, skirting a corridor blocked by a collapsed ceiling. The air around them was quiet — no signs of fighting or destruction.

 

Author’s Note:
Actually, back when the smoke first appeared, there were already vampires in the dining hall who became either agitated or fearful… John probably just had a delayed reaction to the toxin. That stuff affected different races in different ways — sometimes severely, sometimes mildly, and sometimes not at all.

When John was under its influence, everything he said was still the truth… it was just kind of like that emotional, teary state you get after drinking too much.

 

This Title is available for faster chapter releases through paid Patreon membership. Any proceeds go to keeping the website running. Check it out HERE.