The death knight in the silver armor looked perplexed due to the question he was being asked by the apprentice soul vampire. He looked around him, trying to find a figure similar to him—only scrawny and greatly smaller—his heavily plated fingers clicking heedlessly against his greaves. He then looked back at the apprentice soul vampire and said absentmindedly:
[Maybe... he went somewhere.]
The apprentice soul vampire scoffed softly, uncertain whether to display paranoia or disgust at the death knight's blatant lie. He settled on a stony, cautious facade to mask the frantic flurry of emotions caused by the claim that Floki's whereabouts were conveniently unknown, aiming a cold look at him as he asked:
[Do you actually believe the rubbish you just spouted?]
The death knight was taken aback by the bitter words the apprentice soul vampire spouted, a toxic display that felt eerily personal. He was forced to take the situation seriously, even if he had not done so before, realizing this wasn't merely a display of pride or arrogance but something far more volatile.
He felt the apprentice soul vampire was genuinely enraged with him; however, the reason for this vitriol was not known to him at all. Even when they treated each other as rivals, they had not treated each other in such a distasteful manner, treating their past encounters with a degree of honorable professional respect. Yet, now, the vampire was treating him with unparalleled disdain; talking with poisonous words and looking at him with a strange, unnatural expression, like a stranger trapped inside a familiar face.
Not wanting to escalate the situation in a horrible way, he replied with an answer he believed the vampire wanted to hear, sporting a forced chuckle while saying,
[He is probably outside, right now, just frolicking around.]
Maru, the apprentice soul vampire, gave a grim smile, his tone conveying a chilling sense of finality. It was a grave promise that implied something terrible would happen if he had to bring Floki back inside the cavern himself or if the death knight could not find or return Floki within the hour.
[Sure, I suppose you're right,] Maru murmured, his voice dripping with menacing undertones.
[So, all you need to do is go out there, take him from wherever he is, and bring him back inside. It's as simple as that.]
If the death knight could gulp, he would have, driven by the absolute finality and tone of caution he sensed from Maru's seemingly ordinary words. Instead, he felt a watery, unnatural sensation above his head—like a surreal fever—a phantom warmth causing hot, imaginary water to cascade down his bare, desiccated bones. It was a sensation of utter vulnerability he hadn't felt in centuries, a silent acknowledgement of a threat far beyond his comprehension, forcing him to voice a slow, uncharacteristic response:
[I... suppose...]
The massive death knight got to his feet and headed out of the cave, the cool air blowing softly on his hardened skeletal structure and armor plates. He wandered absentmindedly, wondering why Maru was giving him the cold shoulder—as if Maru suspected him of being associated with the disappearance of Floki, or worse, believed he had killed Floki and was now denying being the perpetrator.
The death knight became lost in thought, puzzling over why Maru would think such a thing. He thought inwardly, sure he wishedhe never knew the guy, but that didn't make him a murderer. Every time he saw him, the guy was always doing something to infuriate, spouting nonsense about throwing large corner pieces into the large body of water ahead, and claiming he sailed softly through a dangerous body of water alone with only a ketch, and the only damage the ketch received was a small crack to the upper part of the hull. What a load ofabsolute nonsensethat was, he inwardly muttered,
And then there was more, not counting the many names the insufferable little brat always seemed to call him—like Silver Gargoyle, Gravity Punch, or Boxing Champion. He admitted he secretly liked that last one until Floki cruelly clarified the intent: he wasn't calling him a Boxing Champion because he possessed any actual technical skill or finesse. Instead, it was because in a life-or-death struggle, he would instinctively rely on clumsy, repetitive strikes, stalling a fight that should have ended in a single blow. This stubborn inefficiency dragged every encounter out into a grueling sequence of ten or twenty unnecessary strikes. To top it off, Floki had recently dubbed him "Bigfoot," a name he absolutely loathed for its mocking implication of his uncoordinated, heavy-footed movements.
Initially, when Cord was dubbed "Bigfoot," he rebuked Floki for the slight. He would have lunged at the insufferable bastard—aiming to end his life then and there had Maru not intervened. However, despite these violent impulses and the dark fantasies he occasionally entertained, the Death Knight didn't harbor a true, burning passion of hatred for Floki, nor did he dignify him with the title of nemesis. Instead, Cord viewed Floki as a mere side character—a convenient punching bag or a vessel for his misplaced frustrations whenever the mood struck him. While his disdain was genuine, Cord wouldn't exert the effort required to hunt him down; rather, should their paths cross, he would likely just corner him and rant incessantly about trivial grievances until the nuisance withered under the verbal assault.
As for the name "Bigfoot," it turned out to be a cruel, ill-omened joke—one that ultimately cost him his foot. He didn't know if it was due to Folki's visceral dislike of the limb, or simply because he was a scrawny bastard, but when they were battling that gargantuan squid tentacle the other day, his namesake appendage was severed. He had spent the past few agonizing days, having lost his grace and agility, desperately attempting to graft the severed tissue, slowly trying to reattach the mangled limb back to his body using the energy within his body, a few binds that held his severed foot in place, and a flat rock that he place his leg horizontally on.
During that time, Cord couldn't join Maru and Floki in their various, desperate expeditions to take down the colossal squid—or, more importantly, sever its primary tentacle. It was a tremendously tall task, and they failed every time, returning bruised and defeated. It became evident they needed Cord's unique charming qualities : his unparalleled strength, his raw force, his tenacity, and that terrifying, chilling war cry. They desperately missed the sight of his beautiful armor—not just for protection, but for morale—and the way it glistened intensely, almost magically, when light shone on it. Just imagine a stoic warrior facing a powerful, monstrous foe, his armor gleaming brilliantly with each calculated step he took; how could they not miss such a thing?
They came to him expectantly yesterday, hoping he would show his prowess and beautiful presence as they tried to battle the squid's tentacle again. Fortunately, Cord, their star hero, felt his leg finish healing at that exact moment. He stood up shakily, the tension thick in the air, yet he offered a confident, reassuring nod, agreeing to lead them into the fray once more.
Cord remembered all this well because he had just agreed to have him join their trial to take down the squid tomorrow. However, Cord paused, noting something was off; his expression shifted, a strange, internal, and empty fixation, even though he had no eyes on his face. He lingered for a moment, considering a few things until he looked back, contemplating whether he should call upon Maru, for he had discovered something perplexing. Although this new, subtle observation was not immediately concerning regarding Floki's safety or whereabouts, it felt urgent enough to merit a second thought.