NOTE: Mildly gruesome in middle

A small bell tinkled above my head and I had to let my eyes adjust in the dark space I had just entered. Incensed smoke hugged the low ceiling, swirling slowly. Faint light spilled from between gaps of a lamp plastered with paper. 

Actually, the whole room was covered in paper. I tread carefully past snarling lions and abstract images, eyes darting over the twisted snakes and flying owls on the walls. So many drawings, so much talent. 

Is there a way to steal artistic talent? 

Someone coughed, a raspy sound, and my head jumped to a short dark man. Actually, scratch that. His skin was pale; it were all the tattoos in the blackest ink that transformed him. Hundreds and thousands of tattoos; or maybe it was just one giant one. 

"Can I help you?" he asked in a deep voice. 

"You the tattoo man?" 

He scowled, tattooed eyebrows drawn together tightly. "Yeah, I'm the Ink Artist. What's a girl like you need in here?" He did not seem pleased now. 

"A tattoo." 

His eyes scoured my body. "Really?" 

I raised my hands in surrender. "Truly." The Ink Artist still didn't believe me. Time to milk it. "It's pay back to my fiance for running off with one of my friends. First step of the ten day play: get a tattoo." 

His eyes bore into mine. I neither flinched nor looked away from them. "Shall I take my money somewhere else?" 

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, towards a small bed. I walked over, shaking the piece of paper out. "I have the drawing here." 

"I normally preferred to create my own." 

"Oh." So I went through all that humiliation for nothing back in the tavern? If I had known they liked to create their own, I never would have shown the group my horrendous drawing ability. "Well, I really prefer this one. It represents me more."

With a grunt, he accepted the paper. I sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly nervous. His tools sat on a little table next to us; I hadn't been expecting needles. 

"Colour? Placement?" The man grabbed a red leather stool and dragged it over. 

"Black. Right shoulder blade," I replied in just as many words. My tongue felt heavy. I swallowed and almost choked because of how dry it was. 

What was I getting so worked up about? I was finally going to get a tattoo. 

"I'll need you to remove your shirt, in case the ink spills." I gave him a wide eyed look. "If that is okay with you." 

I nodded and slipped off my top, now only in the crop top Meliodas had gifted me with the other day. To keep my mind off what was to come, I asked, "So do you get many people?" 

"Several each day. The townsfolk, not so much," he sighed as he organised the tubes he needed. "Lie down," he said without looking at me. I did as he asked, now facing a wall with a beautifully drawn tree in a frame. "The days are busy when Holy Knight recruits are sent to Baste Prison to observe and learn the trade. Many, after a good many drinks, stumble their way here on a dare." 

"At least they know they're getting quality work," I praised him. 

He said a gruff thanks then something cold brushed against my shoulder blade. A shiver went through my body and along my hairline. "How big do you want this?" 

"About the same size as the drawing. Please." 

A low hum filled the air. It took all my willpower to not turn and see what it was. 

"So, what's with the fox?" he questioned, moving round before me for something. When he had finished rummaging in little tins, he turned back to me. A tube of paper sat between his lips. Smoke issued from red embers as he sucked in a lungful of air. 

Now I knew why so much smoke was in here. 

"A sin," I responded quickly. "And that payback I mentioned earlier." 

"Ah. Greedy, are ya?" 

"Quite," I mumbled, forcing a smile. 

He moved back behind me. "What's your name?" I blurted out. 

"I have none, besides Ink Artist." 

"Oh. Well that's too bad." 

"Not so much. Names have a lot of power and ain't wise to spread it like the common folk do." 

I decided to shut up after that. I had a feeling he was sending me a hint. 

"You ready?" 

I nodded my head, suddenly feeling sick. Something ice cold touched my shoulder, followed by a sting. Muscles clenched, my nails dug into the bed's sides. Surprising how I could still feel pain from something so small after everything I had been through. 

"Relax," he growled. Yes, because your angry voice would make anyone relax. But, after a couple of seconds, my muscles returned to normal. 

The feeling of him drawing or inking the tattoo, whatever it was called, felt almost calming now. My eyes drifted such. With such a dark room, who wouldn't have a nap on the bed? 

"Done." I almost flew off the bed, heart jack hammering. I must have actually fallen asleep. 

"Thank you." I scrambled off the bed. He held a mirror to me and I twisted ever so slightly. Red puffy skin surrounded the beautiful drawing of an ink black fox. "Whoa," I breathed. It was magnificent. 

"Okay then, now about the payment." The Ink Artist began moving his stool and table out of the way to reveal a wooden desk covered in paper. So much paper it had actually blended into the wall. 

It was in that moment that I realised what else I had forgotten in the tavern. Money. Sure, I didn't have any of my own, but Meliodas had some lying around, and I had started stockpiling it in my room. 

But that meant I didn't have it with me now. I didn't hesitate any longer - I crept towards the door. A hand clamped on my shoulder and dragged me back roughly. I stumbled, arms windmilling, before crashing against the side of the bed. My right shoulder ached from the tattoo and the impact. 

"I think not." He stared down at me, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Some very important people are searching for you," he unravelled a piece of paper, a crude drawing of my face on it, "and I can't let an opportunity like this pass by me." He chuckled and rolled up his sleeves. "Sin of Greed."

I got to my feet and scrambled away. He followed me and it was then that I realised I had gone in the wrong direction. Realising my own mistake, I readied my stance. If he wouldn't let me leave willingly, then I would have to fight my way out. Then get the hell out of this town. 

The Ink Master spread his thick arms wide, the way a hunter would to corner a frightened animal. "You're not getting out of here." 

"Sorry, mate," I spat, "but I have important business to attend to. Can you take a raincheck?" With that, I pushed off my left foot and sent a strong side jab for his face. 

It connected. Hard. Something went crunch in my hand, but I had no time to focus on the pain. Following through, I shifted my weight and sent my knee into his mid-section. 

Crack! Clang! 

A scream rocked the shop. 

I fell to the ground, clutching my knee. Bone protruded at awkward angles and my shaking hands failed to stop the bleeding. How? How had he done that? Pain, so much pain, rendered me immobile and I keeled to the side. My gritted teeth and tense jaw were the only things keeping the tortured screams of agony at bay. 

The Ink Artist literally transformed before my eyes. Sure, he still had all his tattoos, but he seemed to grow taller, more muscle than fat now. His shirt tore under his arms and around his midsection, and parts of his body developed metal plating. 

"Metalmorphosis," he explained, following my bewildered stare. Smugly, he said, "An ability of mine. It can turn parts of my body into cold, hard metal." He walked towards me, swiping blood away from his lips. "makes it harder for enemies to get in surprise shots."

"Holy Knight," I assumed through gritted teeth. His mouth broke into a toothy grin. 

I panted as I tried to crawl away, but a wave of pain pinned me down. 

I had to... I had to escape. If there was one Holy Knight in town, then there would be more. Eliabeth, Meliodas, Diane - they were in grave danger. And this time, I was the only one who could help them. 

"Let's go," he said, wrapping an arm around my waist and hoisting me into the air. "My superiors have been waiting a long time to get their hands on you." 

He moved towards the door and I saw my chance. One of the needles he used lay on the table. Steeling myself, I lunged out and wrapped my uninjured hand around the handle. Then, with a cry, I twisted in his arms and stabbed upwards. 

He shouted in pain and released me. Injured knee cracked against the ground and my vision went dark. But I had to move; this would be my only chance. I might have levelled the playing field a bit, but when he recovered, he'd be cranky as hell. 

I dragged myself inch by inch along the ground, vision returning slowly. The Holy Knight still writhed in agony and I snuck a glance back. The needle protruded out from under his collar bone. 

Wood bit under my nails as I made it closer to the door. So close, so close. Suddenly, it flew opened, sent the little bell ringing and bathed the room in harsh sunlight. I winced, adverted my eyes and cried in relief. Someone must have heard me screaming. 

Footsteps closed in on me. I looked up at the person with teary eyes. 

My heart skipped a beat, my blood ran cold. Suddenly, I found it very hard to breath. There were not one, but two men in the room, both in silver armour. 

One was another Holy Knight with spiky red hair. The other... 

"Leraj?" 

A/N: comment if you saw that coming, because not even I did. 

Give me your feedback guys! You know I can see you hitting that star up there; now just post a little comment (just not 'omg! update soon!') I really appreciate it when my readers talk to me. 

The next section of the fanfiction will mostly deviate from the anime itself. I might place POVs from some of the main characters to give you a heads up on the time line and such, but for the most part, it's going to be about Estra. 

If any of you can guess what is going to happen to her and how it will happen to her, I will give you a cookie (somehow) and maybe do something nice for you (comment on one of your stories, a shout out, etc.) ^_^ I'm feeling generous because I'm just so excited with how this fanfiction is moving!!!!! 

This might also be the last update for a little while as I'm trying to focus on my others books that I have neglected a bit and concentrate on my studies (ick).