My sudden dash of enthusiasm was quickly shot down when I realized I wasn’t really a murderer, rapist, or something worse with powers. In fact, I was further weakened when in the presence of said powers.

I stood in my place as I realized I was still just a normal human in terms of combat prowess and wouldn’t last a single round against any of them if I dared to get in their way.

I needed support. A meat shield even.

The public in front of me had exploded in cheers and howls and all kinds of disgusting remarks as most of them made a sprint for the gate to the upper levels. While some more animated characters made their way to the lifeless head lying in the center. The nausea was increasing.

A dark-skinned guy with lean muscles reached the skull first, and with more than human speed and ferocity kicked the skull. The sound of crunching bones and splattering blood disgusted me yet they relieved an angry part of me which raged at the denial of a chance for revenge.

The flying head making its way towards another prisoner stopped in its way as I noticed myriads of fine threads poked through it. It looked like a porcupine whose owner recalled it promptly as I found the head levitating in front of a man wearing a golden suit and a golden overcoat.

‘Where the fuck did he even get the suit fr- oh…. Fashion!’ Dammit that’s just way too cool, I thought through my rising nausea and weak body.

I can only imagine the ways I could’ve used this kind of power and the fact makes me drool a bit. Why does the world have to be so unfair?

I shook my head off such thoughts before they led to something worse.

‘You are good too mist. You are good too.’ I consoled the Source above my head as I looked at the golden man who now held the bloody head in his hands.

‘Maybe I can befriend him till he can show me out of here? He looks strong enough.’ My decision was based on the way he so effortlessly stopped that head mid-flight.

A head was already quite heavy. And then you freaking add superhuman velocity to it and it’s just a momentum to die for. Quite literally.

I watched the man with a sudden frown on my face as he lowered the skull to his waist, his face distorting into one of content as his pants open-

‘Yea, that’s enough of that little shit. Whom then!!?’ I looked around restlessly as everyone was making their way to the exit. The crowd was still rowdy and some of them even took roundabouts to destroy the place as much as they could.

I saw a splendid display of flying dots, a man who literally created a mini mountain range with very spiky peaks around him for protection, abstract concepts, and even someone who quite literally collapsed his whole cell causing earthquakes to go across the place. My nausea and light-headedness buckled my back as I stood with my hands on my knees.

And that’s when I realized this place was much more dangerous than I realized for me. While no one really can survive a collapsing building, they had the chance to protect themselves, unlike me.

The man who caused this - an Architect as I assume he is - laughed in delight as he looked around with those mad eyes of one who would give anything for blood. He was dead the next instant.

As I watched the man about to place his hand back on the walls with absolute dread, his hands were instantly cut apart as a blade of squares and triangles.

Before he could even cry out in pain or defend himself, an old man with a sparse head of white and black mismatched hair sneaked behind him with agility unlikely of him, as he touched the Architect’s head, and instantly the two halves of his body were parallelly off by a few centimeters.

Those few centimeters made all the difference as he flowed apart in a shower of blood and organs revealing the old man behind him.

The old man had mismatched eyes looking in two different directions, and a nasty grin, only made more menacing by his burned lips. It was Bri.

Bri chuckled in amusement as he looked up from his latest “experiment” and his eyes locked with mine.

My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if I had mistakenly found him as my enemy. Before I could even open my mouth to verify myself, his eyes brightened and the next second he was upon me and embracing me in a wide hug as he exclaimed, “8-12 - lived - you!!”

‘How did he reach me so fast’ Was my first instinct before relief flooded me and I fell in his arms, my body exceptionally weak.

Dammit, I feel emotional. My first friend in this world is an ugly freak and a murder hobo. I couldn’t be any more proud of myself.

“Yes, I live. Good to see you’re kicking too. Let’s get out of here quickly!” I suggested as I noticed that most of them had already left the level apart from the few ‘demolition workers’ and the golden freak.

“Yes - go - let’s!” He said before he turned and the next second he had somehow slid at least 5 metres. I once again stared at him dumbly as he repeated the step a few more times and within a few seconds was already by the stairs.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Suddenly noticing the lack of me by his side, he turned and saw me standing where I did.

“Why - you - are - slow - so.” He scowled and the next thing I knew, the ground itself moved beneath my feet and I almost lost balance, as I was a few meters away from my position.

‘How is he doing this!? He’s not a ground manipulator, is he?’ I wondered but I already knew was an Analytical Cubist. Before I could figure out the mysterious use of powers, I stood by his side and we traveled through the stairs as if walking on a super-fast escalator.

‘Dammit dammit dammit! This is way too cool!! I wanna do this too.’ I cursed internally as I stopped myself from vomiting all over.

I still watched the stairs as we ascended past the seventh and even the sixth floor. We were catching up with some of the people at the start and I noticed we have slowed. I looked at Bri who still scowled at me as he said, “You - too - are - weak! You - even - not - metamorphosed - magic - for. I - left - should’ve - ou - y!”

I think I should’ve been ashamed of my lack of strength but all I can try to distract myself from my weird stomach was the fact that Bri got worse with his words the more upset he got.

“Sorry.” I silently apologized as I continued looking at the stairs. We were on the 4th floor when I finally realized what was happening.

‘So he takes the tile beneath our feet as the original object and then displaces half of it overlapping with the target tile before losing control of it. His maximum range should be around 5 meters give or take.

‘Then he continues with the other half and continues in this fashion. Ah, a very ingenious use of Analytical Cubism and its misplaced object property.’ I mused as I scrunched my nose and kept looking at my feet.

The reason behind not looking up was not just my fascination towards the technique, but also an inherent disgust towards the sharp metallic smell everywhere. I can already imagine the bloodshed which has taken place in the levels and I did not wish to lay my eyes on it.

Instead, I closed my eyes, a risky maneuver considering my location, but I felt for the subtle changes in the mist of luck around me. It still whispered good luck to me and I believed it fully.

I couldn’t not trust it. It felt intrinsically close to me, almost like a part of me.

Before long we were at the top floor and I finally dared to look up.

My worst fears came true as I finally vomited. It was just too much for me. ‘Fucking too much.’ I cursed.

Around me splashes and designs of blood painted the debris. Broken bodies squashed beneath broken walls. Dust rolled around the room and settled on broken limbs as the room smelled of dirt and acid. Pained gasps, screams, and choking noises unsettled me.

It was a pity that I couldn't kill those three torturing assholes, but I wasn't strong enough to find them, nor brutal enough to actually kill them.

My partner must’ve felt my discomfort as we very quickly made our way through the giant hole where the main entrance should’ve been. I had seen a huge metallic gate at the base of the stairs and I just now realized the sheer strength before the man who slung that monstrosity so far away.

Walking out of the prison, I finally took a deep breath and looked around me.

Roaming hungry criminals, an ill-prepared crowd, and an ill-prepared government. What could go wrong?

Shaking my head, I felt bad for it. I felt extremely bad and guilty for the innocents who would be implicated in this, but I could do nothing about it. If it were up to me I would’ve killed them all, but I can’t.

‘Not like how I fucking am currently. Dammit!’ I once again cursed my powerlessness. This was getting very frustrating.

I prayed a silent prayer for the innocents before planning my escape plan. I could no longer stay in the Viscountcy since I’d be nothing but a prison escapee. I need to leave. And I need to do it before the local Artists can come.

I looked at Bri, who at the moment stared at a row of houses in front of me with an almost nostalgic look and rubbed his burnt lips. I suddenly realized that I was not completely safe with him too.

‘But what can I fucking do? Can I run all the way to the border without being caught?’ I shook my head at the thought. Not to mention my already declining health, the local authorities would be on us any moment.

These are emergency times and I do not delude myself by thinking I can leave here alive on my own.

- - - * - - -

“What is happening!?” The Viscount in a rare show of anger shouted.

“We- we don’t know sir. All the prisoners from the central prison are suddenly out of their cells and roaming the streets or trying to flee.” The defense minister, shaking slightly, reported.

“How did they get out of their cells? How are they using their powers?” The Viscount once again shouted “Didn’t we have tattoos made from a Section 2 Artist just to avoid this kind of a situation? And where is Wazed?”

“The current report states a sudden intrusion by a high-level Artist, possibly Section 3, who blasted the main gate and decapitated Wardon Wazed before nullifying the tattoos and freeing everyone. There had been no signs of the Artist since that attack.” The man reported, sweat dripping from his head.

“How- how is there a fucking Section 3 Artist here!!? No no no this can’t be… this can’t be…” The one who spoke this time was the financial minister, or the Third, his expression one of despair as he collapsed on his seat.

His elder brother, First, sat in front of him, he too downcast and lost as he tapped the table almost aimlessly.

The Viscount was suddenly quiet. He slowly sat down as he pondered this development. It was too fast, too sudden, too insidious. He didn’t have the time to prepare.

But he can’t sit and do nothing. He can’t let a hostile Section 3 Artist roam around.

“Activate Plan Soul.” He said softly, his whole body deflated as he said that. Soul, the only way in their arsenal to resist a Section 3 Artist. This was a plan of steep price as it actively costs lifespan.

Thousands and hundreds of thousands would die to activate it, but this was a price he was willing to pay.

“I’m - I’m sorry, Sir.” The defense minister now actively crying as snob flowed through his nose and his voice stuttered, as he delivered the final piece of bad news, “The murals in the place have been de-activated.”

“What…. What are you saying?”

“We can no longer use it, sir. I’m really really sorry.” He broke down on his knees as he cried profusely. A dead silence filled him as he continued “Someone tampered with The Intelligence or stole it. I’m sorry sir. I’m sorry.

“I’m so so so so so sorry!!”

- - - - * - - - -