BXBX NOVEL Chapter 80: Don't let your fury out.
"Have they found anything yet?" Strax asked. Xenovia, unfortunately, shook her head. "Six hideouts of this V guy have been discovered, but we haven't found any clues about Beatrice. I'm starting to think we're following a false lead." Xenovia said, her eyes showing concern—not for Beatrice, of course; she didn't even know the woman. The problem was… Strax...
Xenovia knew many people; she had traveled a lot in her life, meeting various peoples and people of different social classes, different lives, ways of living, and personalities, and she had never seen anyone as possessed as Strax...
She was good at reading expressions, but Strax... she could no longer see any emotion coming from him other than pure fury.
"I need to find this woman... this man... is about to unleash everything inside him," she thought, while a voice came to her mind. "Be careful with him... that aura... it's not of an ordinary human, or rather, it's not even human." Xyn said in her mind, and Xenovia was intrigued and quickly questioned, "What do you mean by that?
Of course he's human!" Xenovia retorted quickly, "No. His physique is bestial; I sense an aura... of something very different from a human." Xyn said, avoiding too much comment.
Xyn had been noticing several things about Strax, but now... his fury was not that of a human, definitely not. And it was making her impatient. She had extreme sensitivity to other beings, but Strax... was human and yet not, and it was driving her crazy. "Control," she said.
"He cannot explode yet; hold on as long as you can. I have a bad feeling, a very bad feeling," the Spirit said, forcing Xenovia to stay by his side, not letting him slip away.
[The main mission has progressed]
Strax read in front of him. Something changed, something happened... why would the mission progress now? Nothing was happening except for one thing… Beatrice.
"I'm going back to look," Strax said, standing up. He could no longer contain his anxiety. His patience was running thin; he needed to do something. Sitting and doing nothing was not in his nature; he really needed to do something.
"No, you're staying here." Xenovia said firmly, standing up and forcing him to sit on the couch. "I will call your wives; you're not leaving from here." she said, her gaze much colder than before, as if something wrong was happening. Strax was speechless; for a second, he felt he should step back, but he didn't.
[The Main Mission Advanced]
Again, the same message. Something was happening... and he couldn't do anything. "I already made the request, but it was denied. All my efforts are on searching for her throughout the city. You just have to wait.
In three days, the Garden of Swords will open, and until then, we'll find your wife. Calm down; you're about to explode," Xenovia said, and Strax couldn't even complain. He was in no position.
He was then forced to accept, his anger growing exponentially with each passing second.
A few hours ago... when Beatrice was captured.
Beatrice wandered among the hanging dresses, her fingers caressing the silks and laces with a delicate touch. It was a brief respite from the chaos surrounding her life, a moment where she could lose herself in choosing a special dress. The crimson caught her eye, the silver details capturing the light.
The attendant approached, her smile welcoming. "Madame, this dress will be perfect on you," she said, holding out the crimson dress.
Beatrice smiled in response, taking the dress and heading to the fitting room. The boutique was quiet, except for the distant murmur of conversations. Entering the booth, she held the dress against her body, admiring how the fabric draped elegantly, molding her curves with precision. "My darling will love this, won't he?" she wondered.
The reflection in the mirror showed not just the dress but a woman determined to please her husband, or rather, to reward him.
Suddenly, the boutique doorbell rang with unusual intensity, like a harbinger of something sinister.
The atmosphere, once welcoming, suddenly became tense. Beatrice stopped, her eyes fixed on the curtain separating her from the rest of the store. Her instinct warned her of danger.
"Beatrice von Steinhardt," a male voice sounded, authoritative, from outside. "You're coming with us."
Beatrice's heart raced. She quickly drew the dagger hidden in her dress, trying to prepare for the worst. "Who are you?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady as she cautiously pushed the curtain aside.
The three men who appeared had stern expressions and wore dark suits, completely out of place in the boutique's setting. "You're coming with us," one of them said, the tone making it clear it wasn't a request.
Beatrice narrowed her eyes, gripping the dagger firmly. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Leave now or you'll regret it."
"Miss, we're just following orders. You're coming with us, whether you want to or not," one of the men said, advancing. The damp cloth in his hand reeked of chloroform.
She backed away, her blade poised perfectly. "You have no idea who you're dealing with!" With a swift motion, she tried to strike the nearest man, but the cramped space of the fitting room and the surprise of her attack reduced its effectiveness.
He dodged, grabbing her wrist firmly, forcing her to drop the dagger, which fell with a dull thud to the floor.
Beatrice was still weak, lacking the techniques and strength of Strax or Monica, let alone Samira. She already knew she was dead weight, but she hadn't realized how much...
Struggling with all her might, Beatrice tried to break free, her body twisting desperately.
She kicked, bit, and scratched with her nails, but the number and strength of the men were overwhelming. "Strax!" she screamed, hoping her shout would reach someone, anyone, who could help.
"Easy, miss," one of the men murmured while another pressed the cloth to her face. "V wants you alive."
The sickly sweet scent of chloroform invaded her senses, and Beatrice felt the strength drain from her body. Her vision began to blur, the sounds around her becoming distant and indistinct. She continued to struggle, but each movement grew heavier, slower. "Strax... help" the word escaped her lips in a desperate whisper as darkness overcame her.
When Beatrice woke up, she was in a cell, her hands and feet bound and a gag covering her mouth. Her body ached all over, and the only sound she could hear was the dripping of broken pipes echoing in the room.
"Where am I…?" The question echoed in her mind, but the gag turned any attempt to speak into muffled murmurs. Beatrice tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but each movement was restricted by the tight bindings. Pain radiated through her body, each movement feeling like she had been beaten.
She took a deep breath, trying to control the rising panic. Her thoughts turned to Strax, to the last memory of her trying to fight off her captors in the boutique. "He must be looking for me... I hope he's okay... knowing that man, he must be about to explode." She murmured to herself, already knowing that Strax would come after her, but his mental state... that was hard to predict.
She knew what he did to his former butler, knew he trained every day to become stronger, and knew his goal was to work hard so they would never face hardships, but here she was... kidnapped.
She understood how his mind worked, so now... at this moment, she had no doubt he was preparing to kill anyone in his path... On one hand, it was comforting to feel loved, but on the other... she was afraid of Strax changing because of this.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly. Beatrice lost track of how much time had passed, the seconds blending into minutes and hours. The sound of dripping became almost unbearable. "I need to get out of here," she thought, but she had no idea how.
Finally, she heard a different sound. Heavy footsteps echoed from the other side of the wall. Beatrice lifted her head, her eyes fixed on the small opening where dim light filtered in. "Someone is coming," she thought, fear and hope intertwining in her chest. She tried to move again, but the ropes cut into her skin, and the gag prevented any cry for help.