Plague Doctors: Beginning of the End-Chapter 12 - : Dead of night

The next night, under a sky heavy with clouds that blotted out the stars, Dr. Willem made his way once more to the training grounds. The air was unnaturally still, the kind of silence that pressed against the ears and made every footfall seem louder than it should. The grounds themselves were eerily quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by an almost oppressive stillness. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath.

As Willem approached the entrance to the training grounds, he noticed something unusual, or rather, the absence of something. The plague doctors who typically stood guard were nowhere to be seen. Their absence was conspicuous, their dark, masked figures usually a constant presence at the perimeter. Perhaps they were patrolling elsewhere, he reasoned. The grounds were vast, and a thorough sweep would take time. Still, the emptiness gnawed at him, a faint unease settling in the back of his mind.

Shaking off the feeling, he pressed on. The brass door loomed ahead, its surface etched with intricate runes that glimmered faintly in the moonlight. He pushed it open, the hinges groaning softly, and stepped inside. The familiar scent of oil and steam greeted him, though the usual hum of machinery seemed muted tonight. The steam-powered elevator awaited him, its gears grinding softly as he stepped onto the platform. With a hiss and a shudder, it began its descent into the depths below.

The elevator carried him down to the lower levels, where the cells housing the larger creatures were located. This was no ordinary prison; it was a place designed to contain beings of immense power and size, creatures that would have been unimaginable to most. Willem's goal tonight was clear: he sought out a drider, a creature both fascinating and terrifying, in hopes investigating further. He was close, he could feel it. Every piece of information he gathered brought him closer to uncovering Charlotte's schemes, and he was determined to see it through.

When the elevator came to a halt, Willem stepped out into the darkness. The floor was pitch black, the usual flickering lights extinguished. He reached for a switch on the wall, his fingers brushing against the cold metal. With a soft click, the steam pipes along the ceiling hissed to life, valves releasing bursts of steam at intervals. The lights flickered weakly before finally stabilizing, casting a steady glow over the massive chamber.

The sight that greeted him was both awe-inspiring and unnerving. The cells here were colossal, designed to contain creatures of unimaginable size and strength. To his left, a warrior giant sat hunched in its cell, its massive frame restrained by thick chains. Even in its seated position, it towered at least five meters tall, its muscles rippling beneath its skin as it shifted slightly. Its eyes, dull and resigned, flicked toward Willem before looking away, as if the presence of a human was of no consequence.

To his right, a massive dragon lay curled in its cell, its scales glinting faintly in the light. Its wings, once majestic, were pinned to the ground by giant metallic pegs that pierced through the membrane, blood dripping steadily from the wounds. The creature's fiery, slitted eyes opened slightly as Willem passed, a low rumble emanating from its throat. It was muzzled, its jaws clamped shut, but the heat of its breath still seeped through, a reminder of the power it once wielded.

The hallway between the cells was wide, designed to accommodate the sheer scale of the creatures held here. Willem, in his leather coat and plague mask, seemed almost comically small in comparison, a lone figure walking among giants. The air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and something else, something primal, like the electric charge before a storm.

He moved with purpose, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. His mind was focused, his thoughts sharp. The drider was his target, and he would not be deterred. But as he walked, the unease from earlier crept back in, a faint whisper at the edge of his consciousness. The absence of the guards, the unnatural quiet, the way the creatures seemed to watch him with a strange intensity, it all felt... off.

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Willem pushed the feeling aside. He had a mission, and he would see it through. The truth was within reach, and he would not let fear or doubt stand in his way.

The creatures in their cells were unnaturally still, their usual growls and movements replaced by an eerie silence. Willem's footsteps echoed softly as he walked down the massive hallway, the flickering lights casting long, wavering shadows on the stone walls. The quiet was unsettling, almost oppressive, as if the very air was holding its breath. He glanced at the cells as he passed, the warrior giant, the muzzled dragon, the others, all watching him with an intensity that made his skin crawl. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Good evening... Willem," came a voice, smooth and familiar, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Willem froze, his eyes narrowing behind his plague mask. He turned slowly, his gaze darting to the corner of the chamber where the shadows were deepest. From the darkness, a figure emerged, tall and uncanny, her owl-shaped plague mask gleaming faintly in the dim light. Her black leather coat rustled softly as she stepped into view, her presence commanding and unnerving.

"Charlotte," Willem muttered, his voice low and tense. The pieces began to fall into place, the missing guards, the unnatural quiet, the way the creatures seemed to watch him with a strange anticipation. It all made sense now. She had orchestrated this. She was behind it all.

"What are you doing here, Charlotte?" he asked, his tone stern, his body tense as he prepared for whatever came next.

She tilted her head slightly, the motion exaggerated by the owl mask. "Am I not allowed to work in the dead of night?" she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She was playing the fool, feigning innocence, but Willem wasn't buying it.

"Don't act daft with me!" he snapped, his voice rising. "There are missing guards outside. I know that's your doing."

Charlotte let out a low, mocking laugh. "Urgh, men," she said, her tone dripping with disdain. "So aggressive, so... impatient. Let it play out, Willem. A slow burn is much more satisfying." Her voice took on a slightly seductive edge, as if she were savoring every word.

Charlotte's hands twitched while her fingers hanged by her sides. "Fine," she said, her voice cold. "I'm here to put an end to your self-righteous madness."

Willem's demeanor remained as it was, his serious tone keeping momentum by something serious. "You caught on," he said, his voice flat.

"Of course I did," Charlotte shot back. "I've been tracking your every move. I'm surprised you thought you could work undetected. But I've had enough of this act. It's time to conclude it."

Charlotte's head tilted again, her mask obscuring any expression, but her body language was unmistakable. She was enjoying herself. "So you eliminate me, and then what?" Willem asked, his voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. He could already tell she had planned tk end him there.

Charlotte spread her arms wide, her voice rising with a manic energy. "Well, I raise this school back to its former glory!" she declared, her tone almost giddy. She looked insane in that moment, her excitement palpable even beneath the mask. "No more weakness, no more compromise. This institution will become what it was always meant to be, a place of power, of control, of perfection."

Willem let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. "You? As Chief Surgeon? Haha! That is more than enough reason to win. I can't allow such madness in this institution."

Charlotte's arms dropped to her sides, her posture shifting as she prepared for what was to come. "Then stop me," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

Willem didn't hesitate. He dropped into a battle stance, his movements fluid and precise.

He stood firm, his plague mask obscuring his face, his leather coat rustling faintly as he shifted his weight. His stance was steady, his hands raised in readiness, though he was unarmed. Yet, his spirit was unshaken, his resolve unwavering. The air was thick with tension, the flickering lights casting erratic shadows across the stone walls. He could feel it, something was wrong. The silence was too heavy, the stillness too deliberate.

Then he noticed it. Shadows creeping in from the corners of his vision, subtle but unmistakable. His instincts screamed at him, and he spun around just in time to see four figures lunging at him from the darkness. Residents, clad in their plague masks and leather coats, weapons drawn and poised to strike. Two came from above, leaping down with deadly precision, while two charged from the ground, their movements swift and coordinated.

Willem didn't hesitate. With a burst of speed, he leaped into the air, flipping gracefully through the narrow gap between his attackers. He landed three meters behind them, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. The residents' weapons struck empty air, their attacks thwarted. They regrouped quickly, standing in a loose semicircle beside Charlotte, who watched with an air of detached amusement.

Vale, her reverse-curved demon daggers gleaming in the dim light, stood at the forefront. Beside her was a resident wielding short dual swords, another with steam-powered batons crackling with energy, and the last armed with needle-like daggers that glinted menacingly.

Willem's voice cut through the tension, sharp and laced with disappointment. "Residents? The more I learn about you, Charlotte, the more disappointed I am. You couldn't even face me yourself, so you manipulated these residents to do your dirty work?"

Charlotte's response was cold and devoid of emotion. "Kill him," she commanded, her voice slicing through the air like a blade.

The residents moved as one, their attacks swift and merciless. Vale was the first to reach him, her curved dagger slicing through the air with lethal intent. Willem sidestepped the strike with precision, his movements fluid and calculated. Before she could recover, he drove a fist into her throat with such force that she dropped one of her daggers. As she staggered, he spun, delivering a powerful kick that sent both Vale and the resident with the short swords crashing into the cell bars to his right.

The resident with the steam-powered batons charged next, his weapon crackling as he swung it in a rising uppercut. Willem stepped back, his movements measured, calculating the exact reach of the attack. The baton missed him by a mere half-inch, its energy dissipating harmlessly into the air. Willem seized the opening, throwing a left hook that snapped the resident's head to the side. The resident tried to counter with a swing of his second baton, but Willem saw it coming. He ducked under the attack, dashing behind the resident and grabbing his coat. With a swift motion, he flipped the man onto the ground, slamming him hard before holding him up as a shield.

The resident with the needle daggers lunged forward, her blades aimed at both Willem and her comrade. Willem's eyes narrowed. Her attack would have been fatal to both of them. Anger flared within him, and he spun, throwing the resident he held into her legs, tripping her. Before she could recover, he delivered a devastating uppercut that nearly tore her mask off and shattered her jaw beneath it. She crumpled to the ground, disarmed and unconscious.

Willem turned just in time to see Vale and the short swords wielder charging at him again. Vale was slower, still reeling from the throat punch. Willem dashed forward, grabbing her remaining dagger hand and driving a fist into her ribs. The sickening sound of bones snapping echoed through the chamber. He followed up with a punch to her underarm, paralyzing it and forcing her to drop her weapon. With a swift motion, he swung her by the head, slamming her into the stomach of the short swords wielder, sending both crashing to the ground.

Charlotte, however, had used the chaos to her advantage. She appeared from behind the fallen residents, her long silver talons extended like daggers, ready to strike. Willem leaped back just in time, narrowly avoiding her attack.

"Haha! No, Willem," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "I could definitely take you on by myself. But the hassle just wouldn't be worth it. You could injure me, and the rest of the school might find evidence tying me to your death. And the potential of you winning in a one-on-one battle? Too high. You call me a coward; I call it calculated."

Before Willem could respond, he heard the hiss of steam jets behind him. The resident with the batons had recovered, launching a powerful strike that cracked the ground where Willem had stood. But Willem was already in motion, flipping backward and landing on his hands. Using the momentum, he kicked out, striking both Charlotte and the baton wielder and sending them sprawling.

Vale, clutching her paralyzed arm, attacked again with her remaining dagger. Willem dodged her strike effortlessly, catching her wrist with one hand and her throat with the other. With a brutal motion, he choke-slammed her to the ground, the impact forcing a ragged cough from her.

Charlotte, undeterred, hurled two throwing daggers at him. Willem spun mid-air, catching them with precision. He landed, now armed, and smiled beneath his mask. "How stupid of her," he thought, "to consider me so weak as to employ residents to end my life. A rookie mistake for someone who prides herself on intelligence."

He dashed forward, ready to press his advantage, but after two steps, his vision blurred. He staggered, his body faltering for a moment. It was enough to stop him in his tracks.

"Hmm, that was fast," Charlotte said, her tone smug and satisfied. "Didn't think it would be this efficient. Then again, it did knock out every titan in these cells."

Willem's voice was strained as he stepped back, his vision flickering between blurry and clear. "What's... happening to me?"

"Sedative," Charlotte replied, her voice low and menacing. "The same one I used on the driders. I released it in gaseous form down here. It calmed the beasts, but your plague mask is more effective than I thought. Or is it? I accounted for that. The handles of my throwing daggers had needles, long enough to pierce through your gloves and skin, undetected. They were laced with the same sedative. The very daggers you caught to arm yourself. Now, let's try this again."

She lunged at him, her claws slashing through the air with terrifying speed. Willem dodged as best he could, but his body was slowing, his reactions dulled. He was barely keeping up, his movements sluggish. At times, he found himself reacting to afterimages of her, his mind struggling to keep pace.

Charlotte was relentless, her attacks growing more frenzied. Even in his weakened state, Willem's skill was evident. He dodged and weaved, his movements precise despite the sedative coursing through his veins. But it wasn't enough.

The resident with the short swords attacked again, swinging his blade at Willem but...it had vanished. At the same time, Charlotte lunged, appearing with the lost blade of the resident. Willem acted on instinct, pushing the resident out of harm's way. But in doing so, he left himself open. Charlotte's attack pierced through his stomach, the tip protruding from his back. He gasped, blood bubbling beneath his mask.

"This is why you would fall, Willem," Charlotte said, her voice cold and triumphant. "You care. And I knew your self-righteous nature would make you sacrifice yourself for them. Even at the cost of your own life."

With a swift motion, she slashed his throat with her talons. Willem fell to the ground, his body convulsing as blood pooled beneath him. He stared up at her, his vision fading. Charlotte removed her mask, her face the last thing he saw, a demonic grin stretching from ear to ear.

The resident Willem had saved stared in shock, clutching the wound Charlotte had inflicted during the chaos. He looked from Willem's lifeless body to Charlotte, who stood over the fallen Chief Surgeon, her smile wide and unhinged. In her hand, she held the short sword she had used to deliver the final blow.

The chamber fell silent, the weight of what had just transpired settling over the room. Charlotte's laughter echoed through the cells, a chilling sound that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it. Willem, the once-indomitable Chief Surgeon, lay dead, his sacrifice in vain. And Charlotte, her madness unchecked, stood victorious.