Hollow stood tall even with blood dripping from his abdomen from the stab ready to take on the fight against the invisible monster that almost took their lives.
"Let's see what it's got," he said, his voice low and eager.
Hollow took a step forward, his sharp gaze fixed on the dark, trembling void in front of them. The oppressive energy was unmistakable now, whatever was out there wasn't just strong; it was malevolent.
Liliane reached for him, panic lacing her voice. "What are you doing? You're hurt... you can't possibly think—"
But Hollow didn't hear her. Or if he did, he didn't care. The presence of the spiritual being, the sheer weight of its power, had ignited something in him. For a brief, reckless moment, he forgot the frailty of his human form. His lips curled into a feral grin as he surged forward, straight toward the unseen predator.
"Hollow, stop!" Liliane's voice was drowned out by the sound of his footsteps pounding against the dirt.
The air grew heavier as the creature lashed out, its invisible claws ripping through the ground where Hollow had stood just a second earlier. He moved with startling precision, dodging the attacks with an agility that belied his human limitations. But he couldn't escape entirely. One of the slashes grazed his side, leaving jagged marks across his ribs, his shirt tearing as fresh blood seeped through the fabric.
"Tch, I'm not fast enough," he muttered to himself, grimacing as the sting registered. But he didn't stop. As another wave of energy surged toward him, he leapt into the air, his body twisting with the ferocity of his past instincts. He landed a flying kick toward where he thought the creature might be.
It connected, barely. His foot struck something solid, and pain shot through his leg like a bolt of lightning. The impact felt like slamming into a concrete wall. He stumbled back, his weight shifting awkwardly as his human body screamed in protest.
"This is hopeless." he admitted aloud, limping as he retreated. The creature retaliated, the oppressive aura sharpening like claws raking across his senses. Hollow raised his arms instinctively, but the next strike didn't come.
Instead, he pivoted, running back toward Liliane. She stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief and panic as the air rippled around her, the presence closing in.
"Time to go," Hollow said, grabbing her hand firmly.
"What, wait, what are you—" Liliane stammered, but Hollow didn't let her finish. He pulled her along, forcing her to run as the air behind them erupted in a flurry of destructive energy.
They sprinted through the park, the shadows chasing them with an unrelenting fury. Hollow led the way, his grip on Liliane's hand steady despite the blood dripping from his wounds. Every muscle in her body screamed to stop, but the sheer terror in the air kept her moving.
When they finally emerged from the park's boundaries, the oppressive weight lifted. The night was quiet again, save for their ragged breaths. Liliane stumbled to a stop, doubling over as she tried to catch her breath.
"What the hell was that?" she managed, her voice trembling.
Hollow leaned against a lamppost, his expression calm but distant. "A spiritual presence. Strong one, too. Haven't felt anything like that since…"
His voice trailed off as he looked down at his shirt. The fabric was soaked through, the gray now a deep crimson. Blood dripped from the wound in his abdomen and the fresh slashes on his side, pooling on the sidewalk beneath him.
Liliane straightened, her eyes widening as she took in the sight. "You're—Hollow... you're bleeding!"
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. That happens when you get stabbed and clawed, I guess."
"That's not funny!" Liliane snapped, stepping closer. She reached for him, hesitating only slightly. "You're losing so much blood. We need to—"
"I'm fine," Hollow interrupted, his tone dismissive. "I've dealt with worse."
Liliane stared at him, her anger giving way to something softer, something she didn't want to name. He had saved her. Thrown himself into danger without hesitation. And she had repaid him by stabbing him. The realization twisted uncomfortably in her chest.
"Just… let me help you," she said quietly, her fingers brushing against his arm. "At least let me treat your wounds."
Hollow tilted his head, his usual indifference giving way to a faint flicker of surprise. He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "If it'll make you feel better."
Liliane sighed, already pulling out her phone to find the nearest pharmacy. "You're unbelievable," she muttered, more to herself than to him.
Hollow's lips quirked into a faint smile as he leaned back against the lamppost, his gaze drifting toward the park. "Is that so?"
Outside the pharmacy, Hollow leaned casually against the wall, his face illuminated faintly by the glow of a streetlamp. His shirt bore a spreading crimson stain, but he didn't seem to notice, or care.
Liliane emerged moments later, tightening her coat around herself to hide the bloodstains that had seeped into her clothes. A small pharmacy bag dangled from her hand, her grip firm and her movements brisk. She glanced at Hollow briefly before muttering, "Let's go."
Hollow pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her, his footsteps quiet yet steady. Liliane kept her gaze forward, her lips pressed into a thin line as her thoughts churned, the tension between them as heavy as the silence of the night.
Hollow's apartment was exactly what Liliane expected: sparse, cold, and devoid of personality. The small space consisted of a small living area with couch and table, kitchen and a bedroom further. The walls were blank, the shelves empty, and the kitchen looked like it hadn't been used once. If anything, it felt less like a home and more like a temporary holding space.
"You live here?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with disbelief.
"Well, yes," Hollow said simply, moving to sit on the edge of the couch. He pulled his blood-soaked shirt slightly away from his torso, examining the torn fabric with vague disinterest. "Do what you need to do."
Liliane hesitated before pulling out the supplies she had bought. Her hands trembled slightly as she unpacked them, the events of the night catching up to her. "Take off your shirt," she said, her tone brisk, more out of practicality than anything else.
Hollow complied without a word, pulling the tattered fabric over his head and dropping it onto the floor. Liliane stared for a moment, her gaze drawn to the deep slashes across his ribs and the gaping wound in his abdomen. The sight made her stomach churn. But the other thing she checked for was the Black Hole he used to have in his chest, the mark of an Abyssal, it was truly gone.
"Doesn't that… hurt?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost unsure.
"It's no big deal," Hollow replied, as if that explained everything. When he saw her frown, he added, "When I was an Abyssal the hunger used to hurt much more. Always did. The stronger I got, the stronger the hunger became. It was constant, like having my insides clawed apart."
Liliane froze, the cloth in her hand halfway to his side. She didn't know what she had expected him to say, but the bluntness of it caught her off guard. "You mean… all the time?"
He nodded. "You get used to it. Makes this stuff" he gestured to the knife wound and claw marks, "feel like a sting."
She didn't respond, focusing instead on cleaning the wounds. Her hands were steady now, her mind fixated on the task at hand. Hollow's calmness unnerved her, but she pushed the thought aside. The sooner she patched him up, the sooner she could leave.
The process took longer than she expected. Cleaning, stitching, and bandaging the wounds felt like an eternity, though it was likely less than an hour. Hollow sat still the entire time, his expression neutral, as if he were merely waiting for the rain to stop.
"You're lucky you're not dead," Liliane said as she finished wrapping the last bandage.
"Not my first close call," he replied almost jokingly, leaning back slightly. "Won't be my last."
She exhaled sharply, sitting back on her cushioned seat. "You saved me back there," she said after a moment, her voice quieter. "Why?"
He looked at her, his gaze steady. "I wouldn't allow you to die like that. Especially not after just meeting you again."
The simplicity of his words startled her, but this time, they carried a weight that left her momentarily speechless. Not after just meeting you again. The phrase echoed in her mind, tugging at something deep within her chest.
It wasn't grand or poetic, but there was something unshakably honest about it. She couldn't tell if he meant it as sentiment or just cold practicality, and that uncertainty made it linger all the more.
Liliane glanced away, her hands fumbling with the supplies as she tried to focus. "You're strange," she murmured under her breath, unsure if she wanted him to hear it or not.
As time went on during the process her mind began to wonder. I came here to kill him… the demon responsible for taking so many lives... It is my duty... So... why am I stitching his wounds?
By the time she finished, it was well past midnight. Liliane glanced at the clock, then at the couch where Hollow sat, his eyes closed but his breathing steady. She stood, brushing off her skirt. "I should go," she said softly.
Hollow opened his eyes, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll see you out."
"You don't have to—"
But before she could finish, his body gave out. He stumbled, collapsing forward, and Liliane barely had time to catch him. His weight pressed against her, and she staggered, lowering him carefully onto the couch.
"Hollow!" she said sharply, but his eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Panic surged through her as she checked his pulse, finding it steady but weak. The blood loss and exhaustion had finally caught up to him.
She stared down at him, her emotions tangled in a web of confusion and frustration. This was her enemy, the one she had sworn to kill. He was right here, vulnerable and defenseless. It would be so easy.
Her fingers brushed against the bandages she had so carefully applied. The memory of him shielding her, throwing himself into harm's way without hesitation, flashed through her mind. Could she really justify killing him now?
With a frustrated sigh, she reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and covered him. "You don't even make it easy to hate you..." she muttered, sitting back against the wall. The adrenaline had faded, leaving her body heavy and her mind clouded. How did it even come to this?
She didn't intend to stay. But as the minutes ticked by and her eyes grew heavier, she realized she didn't have the energy to leave. For now, she would stay. Just until morning.