The light was insanely bright, so much so that it physically hurt John’s eyes as if a laser were boring into his skull. He tried to lift his hand to shield himself, but there was no response. In fact, he couldn't move his arm at all, as if it had turned to stone.

“What the-”

He tried to look down only to find that he couldn’t do that, either. He couldn’t do anything, not even close his eyes, which would’ve helped immensely. He just had to endure the pain. Thankfully, the light eventually died on its own, but the sight that greeted him was not what he was expecting.

Zero, who was being pulled out of his body, grunted as a sort of black tendril pulled at his wrist. John traced the thing to- Prota? What was going on? Thankfully, with time being stopped and all, it seemed he had time to analyze the situation. Looking at everything he could, it seemed that time had stopped for everyone except him…

And Prota.

Although her face didn’t show it, she was clearly terrified, but her terror was slowly being replaced by confusion as whatever she had expected to happen was clearly not happening. In fact, she was moving better than he was.

“I- huh…?” she muttered softly, staring with trembling eyes at the tendril coming from inside her chest.

“What the hell…” John grumbled. “Zero! What’s going on?”

“This gooey shit won’t let go!” Zero yelled, pulling back. He regained some ground, but another tendril shot out blindly and grabbed his scarf.

“Hey! What the fuck?” Zero yelled angrily, making an attempt to get it back, but it was pointless. Yet another tendril emerged, restraining his arms as the scarf flew into Prota’s body. Its arrival was announced with yet another bright flash. The tendrils, clearly encouraged, began pulling even harder.

“Uh… John? A little help?” Zero grunted.

“What the hell do you want me to do?” John said. He was still incapable of moving, but it wasn’t like he needed to open his mouth to talk to his clone. “I can yell at them or something. Is that useful? Is that what you want? I can call them mean names, maybe they’ll get so offended that they’ll leave us alone. Thoughts?”

“Are you stupid? Are you slow? Maybe a bit of both?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s start from the source! Do you want to calm Prota down or not?”

“What do you mean, calm her down?” John yelled back. “How does that help?”

“What do you think, dipshit? Those tendrils are part of her! Let’s do something about it!” Zero growled. “Hurry up, dumbass!”

Prota watched, confused, as she watched two Johns yell back and forth at each other. What was going on? Why was one John monotone in colour? Why were they yelling at each other like this? What were these tendril things that were coming out of her?

Nothing made sense.

She’d expected John to die after touching her. After all, that was what had happened to everyone else. They’d touch her, or she’d accidentally touch them, and there’d be a flash of light, and when she could see again, they’d be dead. Technically, every single accusation of murder against her was true. She’d killed. She’d done it a lot more than she wanted to, but she couldn’t control it.

She still blamed herself for every life she’d taken. It didn’t matter that her powers weren’t her fault. All she knew was that she was to blame. And that maybe, just maybe, the rumours of her being a demon were true.

So when she’d backed off from John, it wasn’t because she was afraid of him. She was afraid for him. She was afraid of killing him, of taking yet another life. She was afraid of removing the only source of light in her dark world. And when he’d pushed her away, she’d been terrified that she’d done just that.

So why wasn’t he dead?

“Prota,” she heard. “Hey. Hey. Prota. Listen to me.”

John’s voice was coming out of his mouth, but his lips weren’t moving.

“Hey. Calm down.”

“...?”

“Yeah, just great, John,” he muttered. “That’s real helpful. How the hell do you calm someone down in this situation?”

John’s words weren’t exactly the most useful, but they seemed to have a positive effect. His actions were so bizarre that Prota had to temporarily stopped panicking in order to process what John was saying.

With that, Prota was back on track. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she was somewhat in control. She wasn’t just flailing about. Her emotions. Her thoughts. She tried to block them out, to keep them away. She was pretty good at it, after all. A year of suffering on the streets had taught her well. The time she’d spent with John had allowed her to open up a bit more, but ironically enough, that skill they were trying to get rid of was needed once again.

“Zero? Any progress?” she heard John say.

“Uh… well, they’re not stopping, no, but I don’t think they’re pulling any harder than before,” she heard John reply.

The voices were identical, but when she opened her eyes, she found that it was the monochrome John that had responded. So that was Zero. It was incredibly uncanny. There were minor differences between their tones and mannerisms, but they were so incredibly similar that it was nearly impossible to tell them apart.

“...Prota, do you think you can ask those things to stop? Maybe if you just ask kindly they’ll let go.”

Prota shook her head. She didn’t even know what they were. How was she supposed to stop them? Had she not been so scared she would’ve realized what a stupid suggestion that was, but it wasn’t like John was trying to be the image of helpfulness at the moment.

“John! Just calm her down! Stop being a dumbass and walk her through it!”

“How the hell do I walk her through it when I don’t know what it is?”

“God, you’re so useless,” Zero grumbled. “Prota! Close your eyes and focus. It’s gonna be hard, but just do your best, ok? There’s a little black orb inside of you. The tendrils are coming out of that. They’re part of you. Just like your arms or your legs, they’re part of you. You can control them. Picture it. Only you can do this.”

Prota closed her eyes. She was trying to listen, but it was hard to trust someone that wasn’t John. It was a good thing that Zero sounded just like him. All she had to do was pretend it was John that was guiding her through.

Limbs. The tendrils were just like her limbs. She could control them. Take a deep breath. Focus. Relax.

It was taking everything she had to take control, but she was doing it. Slowly but surely, they were pulling back, calming down, and loosening themselves, as if they were aware that the thing they were attacking was not an enemy.

It was as if the tendrils were acting as a subconscious of Prota, trying to defend her from harm by lashing out and attacking whatever came near, trying to keep herself safe by pushing everyone else away. It was just that the thing they were pushing away was the person that was trying to help her.

“It’s ok. I’m safe. I’m safe.”

The tendrils shook a little as if questioning her statement, but slowly they fell back as she continued to try and calm herself. Soon, they had releasrd their grip on Zero, who was rubbing his wrists.

“Hm. Well, that’s new. I sure do hope that doesn’t happen again,” Zero shrugged. Now that the situation was over, he was rather calm about the whole thing. He even seemed to be enjoying himself. “Well, have fun, John!”

With that, time resumed, and Aiden’s knife plunged right into John’s shoulder.

~~~

In Aiden’s eyes, the only thing that’d happened was the flash of light. Something like that wasn’t enough to stop him, but it had blinded him. There was a sense of satisfaction as he felt his knife plunge into flesh, and when his vision recovered, he saw that John’s shoulder was bleeding profusely. The gun was lying on the floor, and John was disarmed, holding onto his injured limb, his face contorted in pain.

“You can’t use your weapon anymore.”

“Like hell I can’t-” John started, but as he raised his arm, it protested, refusing to go up. A pain similar to a burning hot iron pressing into him shot through his body, causing him to collapse.

He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he momentarily blacked out. The pain. It was unbearable. It hurt so much. His vision began to white out, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to push through. He couldn’t afford to have his vision impeded in a time like this.

His right arm was starting to feel cold and numb, probably from the blood loss. He didn’t know. He wasn’t a doctor. The pain was making it hard to think. He had to survive. Survive. There was no way to talk his way out of this. He had to kill or be killed. His left hand was still hurting too much for him to fire his gun…

“Sorry, Prota,” John wheezed, gritting his teeth. “I got nothing.”

“You’re giving up? Just like that?” Aiden said, confused. He hadn’t let his guard down. He was too professional for that, but he was nonetheless confused. This was a life and death situation. Someone with John’s aura shouldn’t give up that easily…

Unless he’d read John’s aura completely wrong? Maybe it wasn’t the life of others that he held no regard for. It was possible that John simply did not care for himself. It was possible to mix those auras together, seeing as they were similar. Regardless, if his target was giving up, that just made Aiden’s job all that much easier. There was no need to question it. And besides, if the man was suicidal, maybe it was better to put him out of his misery.

“Nothing personal,” Aiden said as he prepared a final attack. There was no need to rush when you had the target right in front of you. “It’s just business.”

“You still can’t tell me who hired you?” John said, looking weak and vulnerable. Aiden considered the question. His target’s breathing was jagged, and the small child beside him clearly wasn’t going to be of any help.

“...fine. The Wynton family. I’m not a huge fan of them, but they paid well. It’s just business, after all.”

“Kh… business, eh?” John’s body shook as he propped himself against the wall, trying to get up. “Yeah, that’s fair, I guess. Well, except for one thing.”

“...huh?”

Aiden was confused. John was talking as if he had the upper hand, and yet he was helpless, unable to stand, legs shaking, arm bleeding out. What in the world was this man talking about?

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Just because you were hired doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences. You’re not the [Protagonist]. You don’t get a guarantee of surviving. Me and you, our lives don’t mean anything. We don’t matter. So that means I can kill you. And believe me, I’ve never lost a fight to a [Side Character].”

Despite his words, Aiden could see no weapon in John’s hand. His right shoulder was sagging from the pain, and he was in no position to fight back. Was it a scare tactic? A bluff? The man’s voice was getting stronger, yes, but still, he wasn’t even up yet.

There was no need for hesitation. There was nothing John could possibly do.

“I don’t think you’re quite in the position to be saying that,” Aiden said slowly. “But then again, who am I to deny the ramblings of the delusional?”

He rushed forward, knives ready.

~~~

Aiden would’ve been surprised to find that John hadn’t been bluffing. His mind was foggy with pain, but his mind was running as fast as it possibly could given the situation he was in. Eventually, it found a way through.

A [Protagonist] grows in the face of an emergency.

This is an emergency. Prota’s eyes were glowing. Glowing equals magic. An ability?

Damn. I hope I’m right.

Prota had probably taken something from John. What that was exactly, he wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain. She’d gained something. Her glowing eyes, her flashes of light, they had to be indications of some kind of energy. So he would gamble on something. He truly hoped he’d win it big, because this was really a gamble he should only take once.

“Prota!” he yelled, using his remaining energy to push himself off of the wall, throwing his body at Prota once more. There was one more flash of light as a light began to surround Prota, and he managed to nudge her in Aiden’s direction just in time. John watched in satisfaction as Aiden’s eyes widened just before a giant beam of light poured out of her, obliterating the assassin and the wall behind him. John would have to get that fixed, and it would cost a lot, but at the moment, it didn’t matter.

They were alive.

“Ugh,” John panted, letting his head rest on the floor. He wanted to sleep. His body was getting cold, but he couldn’t pass out just yet. He still had things to do. For one, he grabbed his gun and shoved it into his hoodie, where it’d be out of sight.

“Need a bandage,” he grunted, taking his scarf and wrapped it around the cut, tying it off tight to stop the bleeding. Blood soaked through, but it would be enough for now. He could even cope a little by pretending that it wasn’t bleeding, it was just the colour of hte scarf. That was what he told himself, but the shades of red were vastly different, and anybody with eyes would be able to see it. It was a shame that this scarf was now garbage, but at least he had hundreds of other ones just like it. With the bleeding dying down, John forced himself to get up. Something beside his arm was bothering him.

“Prota. Is that why you were so scared of touching people? Did you know that you took their souls?”

Prota was trembling, but she was able to show her confusion just a little bit. Take their souls? What did that mean?

“...you don’t know what your own ability does?”

As he thought about how to proceed, things connected in his mind. She’d likely been labelled as a demon girl after accidentally killing a bunch of people. The rumours must’ve been true. The reason she’d been so comfortable with talking about killing people was that she’d done it herself. She was familiar with it but actively hated it, which explained why she avoided touching him. It explained her lack of emotion, her blank face. It was a defence mechanism.

Killing people was never without consequence; the brain has a sort of punishment system for intentionally killing another fellow person, making you live the moment over and over again, forcing you to watch as the light leaves the other’s eyes, making sure that you won’t do it again. It wasn’t as if Prota had a choice, but her mind would punish her with nightmares all the same, especially considering her young age.

John might’ve been completely wrong. Everyone’s story was slightly different, and while many of them were similar, it was entirely possible that he’d guessed Prota’s story wrong. However, a lot of things just made too much sense for his guess to be off. He probably wasn’t right about everything, but he was probably right about some of it. Someday, he’d ask her about her past. It would be then that he’d figure out why she was the way she was, but… now probably wasn’t that day.

John looked down at the girl in front of him, who, as always, had a blank look on her face. This time, though, he could feel the fear behind those eyes of hers.

“Come on, Prota,” he grunted. “I’m gonna go… uh… I…”

With that, he fainted from blood loss.

~~~

About an hour later, he was shaken awake.

“Hey, hey. Are you alive? Sir?”

John frowned as he slowly opened his eyes, wincing as reality came rushing back in. His body screamed at him in pain, especially his shoulder, which was throbbing like crazy. He tried to ignore it, forcing himself to get up. As his vision came back, he saw a couple of guards milling around the area.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alive,” John wheezed out, his throat parched. The man who’d shaken him gave him a glass of water, and John didn’t think twice before downing the entire cup. He coughed twice, then sat up. His vision swam as his head felt light, which was to be expected, but he managed to stay conscious.

“Who’re you?”

“City guard. Do you need a healer?”

“What does it look like?”

The man called over someone in priest’s robes, who began chanting as a green light lit up the room. An intense soothing aura washed through John’s body, much of the pain fading away. He shuddered from the sudden, immense relief.

“Sorry. Light healing is all I can do,” the healer apologized. “You should be alright after this. Please feel free to visit the hospital if you require further assistance.”

“Yeah, thanks,” John muttered as he felt the wound in his shoulder closing. “So, what’s with all the fuss?”

“Is your memory alright, sir? It appears that there was quite the scuffle here. Do you remember anything?”

John hesitated. Right, it was obvious there’d be an investigation. With that in mind, he began to speak, leaving out quite a few details. The story boiled down to: “there was an assassin. He tried to kill me. He almost did. I fought back. He ran away and left that giant hole in the wall.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“Do you think I had time to chat?” John grumbled. “Look, it all happened way too fast. I really don’t have anything to tell you guys.”

“Sir, if you’re hiding anything-”

“I’m the one who almost died,” John said, frowning. He was giving his best “get a load of this guy” look. “Do you think I’d withhold any information about the guy that nearly killed me?”

“Very well,” the guard nodded. “We’ll do our best to look into this.”

The guards left, seemingly done with whatever they’d been doing. John grunted as he got up, heading upstairs. He found Prota hiding under the bed.

“It’s all good,” he said. “Come out. We need to talk.”

She slowly crawled out, looking around as if someone were going to pop out of the closet or washroom.

“To think today started with shopping for clothes,” John muttered, throwing his scarf and hoodie into the garbage. He pulled some bandages out from his closet and wrapped them around the closing stab wound, then sighed.

There was a lot to do. Things were being set in motion, and John was not entirely pleased about this.

“Zero, get your ass out here. You might as well, since she’s already seen you. I’m gonna need you for what comes next anyway.”

Prota watched in amazement as the monochrome version of John appeared, floating in the air like a ghost. He gave a little smile and a wave.

“Hi there, Prota. It’s our second time meeting, isn’t it?”

Other than the colours, he looked almost exactly like John. He wore a hoodie and would have had a scarf were it not for the previous incident. The hue of grey that coloured his shirt looked like it could’ve been red, and the pants and shoes looked to be of the same strange material.

“...” Prota couldn’t do much other than nod. She looked worriedly at John’s shoulder.

“Oh, this?” John snorted. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had a lot worse happen to me. Besides, I got a little bit of light healing. I’ll recover.”

John meant it as a reassuring remark, but it just made Prota even more nervous. What sort of situations was a bartender getting in that he was used to this?

“Let’s talk about your ability, ok?” John said. Prota looked away. She didn’t feel comfortable talking about this.

“Look. I understand you might not really like it, but we can’t just ignore it.”

“How did you know?” Prota said in a quiet voice.

“...huh? How did I know what?”

“The beam. How did you know?”

John leaned back in his chair.

“...I guessed?”

Prota stared at him.

“It was an educated guess. Also, I enjoy gambling. Come on, just let me explain.” He pointed to Zero, who waved again. “Let me formally introduce you to Zero. This is Zero. Say hi, Zero.”

“Hi, Zero.”

“That’s not funny and you know it.”

“But it makes you annoyed. I’d say it’s worth it.”

Prota watched in confusion as the two bickered for a bit, but it was so strange that it almost had a calming effect.

“Anyways,” John said, holding his head in his hands. “This is Zero. He’s my [Soul].”

“...soul?”

“Everything has a soul. At least, almost everything does. A soul is something’s life force. It’s what keeps them alive, what makes them an individual… it’s vital to someone’s existence. I can’t really explain, but… it’s what makes them, them.”

Prota cocked her head to the side. What?

“Do you believe in fate, Prota?” John said, suddenly changing the subject. It was an odd question, but she shook her head. “I don’t, either. Not ‘fate,’ at least. Well- actually, this is a talk for another time. I’m getting off track.”

He shook his head and continued. “Now, everyone has a soul. Zero is a special case, though. Souls aren’t usually conscious. Not that this matters. I’m only explaining this because of your ability.”

He leaned in and stared into Prota’s eyes. “When you touched me, Zero came out. Zero is a soul. This means you somehow pulled my soul out.”

Prota tilted her head in confusion. What did that mean?

“Prota. You can take people’s souls.”

Prota stared. She didn’t like where this was going.

“That would kill them. It would explain why you’ve been labelled as a murderer. But souls are also a form of energy. At least, that’s what I think. Regardless, you’ve acquired a huge amount of energy every time you've taken a soul. That would explain the flash of light. When you took part of Zero, you acquired more energy than you could hold, so when I pushed you, it discharged. Honestly, I was guessing about that one, but it worked, so…”

Prota stared at John. He’d done something as reckless as that based on a guess?

“Hey. I said it worked. Let’s not think about it anymore, alright? Wait, hold on, if you took in a soul… then wouldn’t we have heard of explosions going on around the city? No, but- ah, whatever. Probably just bad writing.”

He took in a deep breath and went on.

“Prota. I don’t know what you’ve been through or who you are. I’d like to know at some point, but that can wait. Ok?”

Prota calmed down. He hadn’t called her a demon. If John was correct, wasn’t this a demonic kind of magic? The ability to take souls. The ability to kill with just a touch. Was she really a demon? If so, why hadn’t John killed her? She’d expected him to chase her away, hit her, beat her, whatever, but no, he was talking with her as if discussing picnic plans for next week.

It was clear. He didn’t care about any of that. The only thing he saw in front of him was “Prota.” Not a demon. Not a monster.

He just saw her.

John stood up and stretched, oblivious to Prota’s fears.

“So. Let’s work on that ability of yours.”