𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝕬 𝕳𝖞𝖆𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖍

{ 1 Timothy 4:1 }

Chapter 23's song: Move Me by Half Alive (Instrumental)

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{ "The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons." }
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4 Hours Later

"Get away from me!"

"Monster."

"Kill it!"

'Shite. I despise fightin elitists...' Vincent mentions, the manifestation of foul play, and people begin to solidify in his reality.

Vincent's eyes shift left and right towards the hostile entities that oppress him with biblical verses. The Ancient Aramaic chant begins to sizzle his skin, his flesh produces a black smoke rising from out of his body as he sways side to side in the hallways. His right foot gets caught in front of his other one resulting in him collapsing onto the ground.

The disembodied voice of spirits shouts louder in his brain, drowning his thoughts to maintain his sanity. 'Yer aff yer heid, Anteros (You're off your head.)' Vincent surmises, his body is already weary from his fight against Émeric. There are minor to severe slashes everywhere on his pale complexion. The dark substance seeping out of his expensive black suit. The dark blotches stain his white button-up underneath and he knows he won't be able to wear this same outfit again.

Vincent's figure abruptly shifts itself up against the wall as if he tossed himself on purpose. The anger within him overrides the anguish he's supposed to be feeling, nevertheless, he's been through way worse suffering. The somnolency starts to leisurely creep inside of him. His movements become less urgent and slower, and he notices his human body wants to lie down in the hallways to rest his eyes. 'Y/n...' Vincent ponders over the woman's name who has piqued his interest for quite some time.

His consciousness constantly goes in and out of his state. His eyes flash to black for a few minutes to have his environment: The hallway accompany his confusion. Eventually, without any plan, his subconscious mind brings Vincent in front of a door to a particular room. He needs help... He's losing a lot of mors and the only person who could assist him in his crisis.

Knock...

Knock...

After a few minutes, the door is peeled back from the unwelcoming seal to his assistance. The person is rubbing their eyes with one of their hands while the other one is on the doorknob to the entrance. "What is it?" The lady to the bedroom grouchily greets the critically injured Vincent. His body is leaning between the doorway immediately invading the woman's personal space.

The lady finally gets a glimpse of Vincent's state. She simply rolls her eyes, realizing he had way too many drinks at this hour. The lighting on the demon is inadequately lit on him. It doesn't illuminate all she needs to see to be more attentive to the dire situation. She doesn't distinguish the gashes and slices on his disheveled suit. "Vinny, why are you knocking on my door at three in the morning?" She rudely reminds him about the urgency of her suddenly messed up sleeping schedule.

Y/n crosses her arms against her chest before she finally peers down at an opaque substance dripping on the oak floor. Her attention searches for the source, however, she ultimately discovers the gaping cut on his left arm. The busted lip he obtained when attempting to shush his screams. His tie was cut in half by the Elitist's dagger. Her eyes simply widen by his state and Vincent hasn't said one word to the defensive woman, except for a feeble slip stating: Help me...