Chapter 41: Weak And Infantile.

Barnabas pointed at Alexander, moving his mouth and tongue as if trying to say something. Unfortunately, for some reason, his throat wasn’t working, and he couldn’t speak.

Alexander knew what Barnabas was trying to say and rolled his eyes. Then he stood up straight as he said, "I started it."

"At least you know to own up to it," Tessa said, eyeing him and inspecting him.

"And it seems you haven’t lost control. So I’m guessing this wasn’t something you did because you were hungry and wanted to kill him to eat him."

"But now I’m wondering why you would risk punishment to initiate a fight knowing full well how risky it was, but going through with it anyway. That doesn’t sound like a smart thing to do," she said skeptically.

Even though it didn’t sound like a question, he still replied, saying, "I’ve been looking forward to beating him for a long time. I felt this was a good time as any since you said we could do anything."

"I didn’t mean anything literally," she said, scoffing.

"But yes, you can fight. You can even injure each other lightly. The one thing you can’t do is kill another Apostle without permission."

"Apostles aren’t Drones after all. They are expensive and not easy to replace. So you need permission from Lord Bane to kill an Apostle."

"So far, the only permission you have to kill an Apostle is in case they’ve lost control. Even then, you need proof."

After reaching this point, she said to Barnabas, "Have you lost control?"

Barnabas shook his head hurriedly as if he was afraid he couldn’t tell her that he hadn’t lost control fast enough.

"Anyway, the fight is over," she said as she dropped Barnabas on his butt.

Blood had gotten on her hand while she was holding Barnabas’s neck. So she put her hand in his hair and used it like tissue paper to clean her hand.

While she was wiping her hand, she said, "You’re not allowed to fight for a week. And when you fight next, take note that if you kill each other, you will wish you were dead, and you will lose your freedom forever."

"Trust me. You don’t want to cross Lord Bane," she said before turning to leave.

Barnabas glared at Alexander and swiped his hand across his neck. His neck was barely attached to his head, so the move was more comical than threatening.

At least, Alexander found it amusing. He chuckled and said, "I am looking forward to it. I only hope that I won’t accidentally kill you."

His words inflamed Barnabas again, and the man stepped forward, waving his fist for another round. But then he remembered that they couldn’t fight for another week.

So he stopped in the middle of cocking his arm for a swing. But he was still unwilling to give up, so he spat at Alexander.

His saliva was bloody because there was a lot of blood in his mouth. Some of the blood was Alexander’s, but some was his too.

The bloody saliva sailed through the air and fell short of Alexander. It fell in front of Alexander, who was already moving away to dodge the projectile.

"You spit as you fight, weak and infantile," Alexander said, sneering at him.

In response, Barnabas huffed. Then he turned and marched away. His feet stomped heavily, kicking up dust as he walked away. Clearly, he was still angry.

As soon as Barnabas turned to leave, Alexander’s tense nerves relaxed. The tension and anxiety that had been building in his muscles and bloodstream eased off as adrenaline stopped flowing through him.

He suddenly felt tired, physically and mentally. The feeling was worse than when he completed that training when Tessa made them carry heavy stones for most of the day.

For some reason, his broken arm and injured shoulder began to ache. He knew they were damaged earlier, but he was only now knowing the full extent of the damage through pain.

As the high of battle left him, he took a while to relax. He inhaled deeply and exhaled heavily.

When he finally felt good enough to move, he took a step forward. He didn’t fall as he had expected, so he gained more confidence and took another step.

With slow, hurried steps, he walked toward the main building in the compound. It was toward the four-story, cube-like building with no roof. This was also the same direction Barnabas walked earlier.

As he walked, he passed Robert. Robert shook his head and said, "You’ve changed."

"I know," Alexander said curtly, in no mood for conversation.

"In the past, you were someone I could trust to tell my sister where my life savings were. Now you’ve become someone that I might entrust her safety to."

Alexander chuckled, unwilling to talk and unable to find an adequate response.

But Robert continued, saying, "You’re a strong man now. But you’re a bad fighter."

"Not for long," Alexander said, determined. "If I can become a strong man, I can become a good fighter."

"We shall see," Robert said, chuckling.

"Yes, we shall," Alexander said, promising both Robert and himself that he would become a good fighter.

All along, he had been walking. By the time their conversation reached this point, he had put significant distance between himself and Robert, making it untenable to keep talking.

Robert didn’t keep pestering him and turned to leave. But while he walked toward the center of the compound, Robert approached its exit.

Alexander glanced at him briefly before turning back to see the group of three servants following him.

’Ah yes. There are still these guys,’ he thought, remembering the Drones who had been saddled with the responsibility of serving him.

He had mixed feelings about them. On the one hand, he wanted to be pampered with servants waiting on him hand and foot.

On the other hand, he didn’t want potential food walking around him and tempting him. In fact, he could already feel his hunger stirring.