JULY 24th, 2014.

“These seats kinda… suck, huh?”

Asuga’s voice quietly entered Seth’s right ear as she sat on a dark green pleather bench beside him on the metro. The inside was painted in a darkened silver, littered with any type of small trash that one could imagine. Gum wrappers, tossed wallets, used needles… all of those gave a moderately well-kept train a worn-down aesthetic. Large, panning windows stretched from one side of the car to the other, only being interrupted by the uniform metal bars cast from the floor to the ceiling, in front of where each person would sit on both sides. Cloudy sunlight bounced through the glass and against the dull metal, highlighting its lack of any real shine. There were few others on the train with the two of them.

Liam said the pneuma concentration around here was a lot thicker than usual… heavy anxiety ahead for anyone who isn’t a signer.

Asuga, with a pouty expression, pokes the side of Seth’s right forearm.

“Hey, what’s your deal? Are you ignoring me…?”

Seth leans his head back, pressing the top of his head against the back of the train’s window as the scenery outside passes like a blur. They were traveling on ground level and had just exited a subway tunnel.

“No, I just dunno what to say.”

That was partially a lie. In truth, he was exhausted from heavy, late research he’d done just the night before. He stayed up for hours on end, ignoring his need for sleep, desperately trying to find more information on the caretaker who was murdered. Eventually, just as he had started to give up, he found that the man’s full name was Julio Galanis.

However, Julio never worked as a caretaker, let alone with an orphanage.

An up-and-coming businessman, randomly murdered… That’s one thing, but the fact he never even worked with an orphanage?

Though he should’ve stopped there, his research pushed on as he continued to discover inconsistencies between his original world and the one he found himself in. Certain book titles had never been published, specific car models had never been greenlit for production… even indie entrepreneurs he had done investigative work for in the past never existed here. Movies he glanced at and saw advertisements for originally, but never saw due to his lacking financial status, were never released in theaters. They were relatively small details, even meaningless to him, given the weight of everything else he was surrounded by… but it caused him to wonder.

What else was missing?

He didn’t remember the name of the orphanage he came from, as hard as he tried to find it the night before, slamming away at a borrowed laptop that Liam lent him at the desk in his bedroom. There were a lot of details that were fuzzy at best, and completely absent at worst. He even tried to find information on his sister, Rena, but as they never properly had last names, he couldn’t pull it off. On top of that, he didn’t know Gabriel’s last name either, so all of it was a bust.

“Are you daydreaming…? Maybe having an important flashback?”

Seth blinks in confusion toward the ceiling of the train, as he lifts his head up off the windowsill and looks down at Asuga, smugly grinning at him.

“Ah… did I interrupt an important scene?”

“No,” he replies, bluntly staring at her, “Just trying to figure out what we’re supposed to do.”

Asuga raises an eyebrow, one that’s unimpressed, and begs the question if Seth was even paying attention.

“Really? But Liam made it pretty clear… we go in, find the thing that’s driving the pneuma in the area crazy, and then report back…”

Seth raises his head up, leaning back against the windowsill as he closes his eyes. He won’t admit that he’s still tired from his lack of sleep.

“I know I don’t have a lot of experience, or anything… but I still feel like it’s never that simple.”

Asuga points at him sarcastically.

“Or maybe, you’re just paranoid.”

Well, it’s not like I can deny that.

“...Guilty.”

Asuga crosses her arms, putting her right leg over her other as they clink together. Seth questioned for a moment if that would leave scratches, but figured that she’d never do anything that would damage them.

“See?” she said, ignoring Seth’s internal questioning about the ergonomics of her body language, “I bet Yggdrasil doesn’t worry like that.”

Seth leans forward, glancing over at her with a confused expression.

“Who told you about that?”

“Kat. She was laughing about it while talking to Keith.”

Those two…

Now you see. I should have killed her when—

No, I really don’t see that.

“Let me talk to him, just a little!” Asuga pleads, snapping Seth’s concentration internally back toward her.

“...That’s not how it works,” Seth replies while rolling his shoulders. The train isn’t the most comfortable place to be, after all.

She wags her finger in the air in front of her shoulders like a know-it-all, closing her eyes as her smug expression deepens.

“Listen, listen. I’ll ask Yggdrasil questions, and you’ll answer for me!”

Seth groans, annoyed at the suggestion.

“And why should I—”

“First question!” she cuts him off, raising her index finger up in the air.

She just cut me off like that, huh?

“Do you know any other spirits…?” she asks, trailing off as if she’s unsure if she should be asking the question or not.

Seth remains silent for a moment, as if he’s listening to something she can’t hear, and then begins to respond.

“Yes.”

Asuga’s eyes light up in a mix of excitement and hope, looking over at him with a newfound sense of drive.

“Then…” she trails off, darting her eyes away and looking to the side, “...Do you know the name of mine?”

Seth glances over at her while Yggdrasil gives his answer, not knowing how to react to the question she posed.

“...No.”

Asuga’s excitement quickly fades as her face takes on a bit of a dull expression while she places her hands in her lap, turning to face straight front as she looks downward.

“I probably… should’ve guessed it wouldn’t be so easy.”

Seth glances over again as he notices her eyes slowly drooping further down.

“You don’t know the name of your spirit?”

“Nope…” she responds, smiling to herself, “...Which is crazy talk for a signer, right? And I hate them… but I wanted to thank this one.”

The rumbling of the train against the tracks and the speeding wind hitting the sides fills the cabin as both of them fall into silence, each not sure how to reply to the other. Seth was curious but didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. Despite trying to convince himself to stay out of it, that curiosity ended up getting the better of him.

“Does it have… anything to do with your legs?”

Asuga hollowly chuckles, rubbing her hands against the dark metal belonging to both of them, finding comfort in the sharp cold of the metal. She was an engineer, after all. If anything was going to calm her down, feeling metal was at the top of that list.

“Sharp eye…? Or maybe it’s obvious.”

She raises her head, sighing as she does so. Staring at the ceiling longingly, she begins to recall her past, browsing over all the troubles she’s faced.

“You know how… signers are the only ones who can see spirits, normally? They like to hide themselves, and that’s how things should be… but sometimes…”

She gazes up at the ceiling, not taking her eyes off each of the lights lining the top. They don’t offer harsh enough of a glow to hurt her eyes, and she takes advantage of it.

“...Sometimes, they’re different. Sometimes… they’re angry. Vengeful, for whatever reason.”

Flashes of the fire elemental enter Seth’s mind. A creature that, when everything was said and done, said that it only wanted revenge against those who had killed a little girl. Seth was still unsure if stopping it was the right thing to do, but Yasu wasn’t wrong either. It could’ve hurt more people than just the ones who committed the crime. And that, if nothing else, could’ve been a lie as well. Asuga continues, as Seth listens intently.

“In my case… it was one rainy afternoon. I’d just gotten home from school… and that’s how every day went. I was called downstairs for dinner… and when I reached the bottom step, a bloodstain from my mother stained half of the living room in a deep, dark red. My father was stunned… and then he was killed, too.”

Seth moves his head over to his right, silently staring at Asuga as she continues to look upward at the train’s roof. He notices that she looks empty, a far cry from any expression he’d seen from her before this point.

“...And then it found me, and took both my legs. I… screamed something out, some words I never even knew. My vision went blurry, and I saw some white figure standing over me. Protecting me. And when I built these legs…?”

She looks downward at her lap, finally prying her eyes away from the ceiling lights. Guiding her fingers down one of the panels that made up her right thigh, she looked down at the prosthetic with appreciation. Seth was surprised to even see a small sliver of a smile appear across her lips.

“Honestly, half the concepts I tried, they should’ve failed. The tech just isn’t there yet. But, when I fired these up, when I connected everything… they worked. And I knew it wasn’t only because of me. Then, Keith found me… and said he could sense pneuma in them. That something was applying itself to them.”

Seth realized why she was looking at her legs with such a look of appreciation. Of course, she was proud of her own efforts, but she recognized that, in reality:

They were a team effort.

“Your spirit must really care about you,” he says, impressed by even the idea of a spirit going that far and doing something that felt so personal.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Honestly, I’m super conflicted,” she replies back with a small laugh, “These things killed my parents, but this one…”

She smiles wholeheartedly, looking up and outside of the window in front of them with a strong sense of pride.

“...They’re my partner.”

Seth noticed the choice usage of pronouns there. Picking up on subtle wording and body language… it was all part of being a detective, something he had to learn before he could confidently take any gigs.

‘They’ instead of ‘it’, huh…? That respect…

…Is something you should have for me. Yes, respect and fear.

Yggdrasil, cutting off his strain of thought, chuckles inside his head.

Of course, just my existence warrants that much—

“Stop talking,” Seth orders him, though…

…He accidentally said it out loud. As such, Asuga looked over to him with a delayed sense of shock, eyes wide open and her pupils shrunk in disbelief.

“...Whoa.”

Seth rapidly puts both his hands up and shakes them in front of him, denying anything he had just said.

“No, no, no, no! I was talking to him—”

Ah, there… that’s much better.

WOULD YOU SHUT UP?!

“No, no, I get it…” Asuga feigns despair, clutching her hands against her chest in a very dramatic fashion, “...You think it’s a sob story! But never mind that.”

She tilts her head up at him with wide, excited eyes, that almost look like they’re sparkling in awe.

“When did the Midnight King learn such cool dialogue? ‘Stop talking’,” she recites, in a purposefully deeper voice, trying to mockingly copy Seth’s own, “Ah, I can even feel the beating of my heart… So brash, so very crude…”

Seth, without saying a word, scoots himself over to the right of the bench, two or three meters away from Asuga as she pouts to herself. For the rest of the train ride, she kept asking if he was going to move back or not, and when he wouldn’t answer, she would just move over closer to him.

Though it was childish, Seth responded to that advance by scooting over even further.

. . . . .

“Ahhh…!” Asuga exclaims, stretching with one arm extended directly upward and the other clasped in front of it and behind her head, “It’s nice to finally walk around.”

Large walls towering over the rest of the buildings and streets surrounding them separated the unruly Outer Layer from the Inner Layer, as Asuga and Seth arrived near the western edge of it. The wall was a mix of off-white and grey, panel by panel, reaching into the sky and serving as a reminder that it was impossible to climb up into that other world lying just past it. No human could pull that off, maybe not even a signer.

And that’s just how they want it…

“Hey, look,” Asuga starts to say, pointing toward the wall, “Have you ever been in there? The Inner Layer?”

Seth places both hands in his pockets as they follow along the cracked sidewalk, glancing at cars passing them on a two-lane road. There aren’t many, most likely due to the thick pneuma presence not too far off. The two of them were between sandwiched residential and industrial areas, heading into the latter.

“Yeah. A few years ago. I had an escort, but it didn’t last for long.”

“Huh… so, what was it like?”

Seth scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Clean and pretentious.”

“Well…” Asuga begins to reply, leaning forward into her steps, “...Cycle Fighters is filmed there, and it’s my dream to see those iconic sets with my own eyes one day.”

Her voice is ripe with determination as she clasps her fists in front of her, gripping the air.

“Right…” Seth responds, looking away. Her energy output was just a little too high for his liking, though he didn’t mind her having a motivation like that. Better something that someone could label childish, than existing purely for the sake of getting rich.

Even though I’m poor, so… maybe it’s hypocritical? Eh, it doesn’t matter.

Seth glanced around at the environment, as they turned around a corner. In front of them was a medium-sized, two-story reportedly abandoned brick foundry that used to handle metal castings. It hadn’t been used for years, as any important manufacturers were moved into the Inner Layer. It’d been turned into a building site, as scaffolding surrounded each side of it, with torn tarps covering broken windows and such. However, it’d been a while since someone last touched it, with layers and layers of graffiti hinting at its age.

“Liam said this was supposed to be remade into some kind of storage building. The report was somewhere around here… but I don’t see or feel anything.”

Asuga nods, looking around with him.

“Same here, I guess we should just… try and go inside?”

That was a dangerous move to pull, given the number of squatters in any abandoned area. Not to mention that most of the time they double as drug addicts.

“Yeah, not a good idea. We don’t know what’s in—”

As he was speaking, his nose caught a whiff of something sour.

A putrid smell, and one he had come to know well over the years. As if by instinct, he draws his pistol and disengages the safety with his right thumb, walking in front of her as he reaches his left arm out behind him, warning her to keep her distance. His overall attitude and body language had shifted in less than a second, with his experience taking over his body as soon as he noticed something was wrong.

“Stay behind me,” he orders with a calm but intently serious tone.

That smell… someone was killed? Not that it’s uncommon, or anything, but…

As he inches closer to the foundry’s main entrance— two large openings that, once, had metal shutters covering them— Asuga stays behind him in a tight formation. She wasn’t trained with any particular weapon yet, so she only knew how to kickbox. As such, she figured being protected by a gun was likely smarter than rushing in herself. Though, she noticed that the entrances were barricaded by collapsed scaffolding that Seth couldn’t move alone.

Seth notices that, just before them, police tape is wrapped across and through the scaffolding itself.

That’s not standard procedure… this entire area would be locked down. Either that, or they would’ve used wood. But this is too sloppy… not something a Gatekeeper would do.

Asuga quietly speaks up, leaning closer to Seth so he can hear her.

“I can break those if you need me to.”

Seth places his free hand up flat over his shoulder, denying her assistance. She gives him a quick, sufficient nod and then backs up a little behind him.

He could smell it.

The thick scent of death. Of a corpse. It was harsh, and filled the air completely… most likely caused by a lot of bleeding, exposed wounds…

His mind flashes back to the pictures from the night before, from the various crime scenes. Lots of blood, usually to send a message. Mutilated bodies: the most exposure this type of smell could have.

Shit…

Without glancing back, he begins to address Asuga again.

“I might’ve jinxed us back there on the train,” he says while pointing with his free hand over to the scaffolding, “Quick. Break that.”

Asuga, without wasting even a moment, walks forward as Seth trains the gun beside her to cover her, as she raises her right leg straight up above her head with the sun faintly glistening against the dark metal. Bringing it down with a crash, it instantly caves in the scaffolding in front of the entrance to the right, crushing it under her leg and creating a makeshift path for the both of them. Seth quickly approaches the opening, with his gun in hand. Past the opening is a small garage-type room, with various bits of graffiti and two abandoned mattresses splayed across it.

There’s a door next to the right corner of the room, only just slightly open. Similarly to the scaffolding, police tape was scattered, almost as if leading the two of them toward the door, as it escaped underneath the gap between the floor. As they stepped forward, the smell became worse and worse… even Asuga had noticed it now.

“Wh-what is that…?” she asks through a pinched nose, grimacing at it.

“Just… keep your nose covered,” he replies, opening the door.

Outside it, there’s a grim atmosphere. The smell becomes even more intense, but the visuals they’re met with are sorely lacking in comparison. It’s a wide, open foundry, with even the rusted production belts and a few of the broken castings still around. Everything seemed to be a metallic brown, it felt dreadful, even without the possibility of a murder. There was one key detail, however. Something that stood you to Seth.

The doors that didn’t follow where the police tape on the floor was leading— a sharp right turn after the open door they stood behind— were wrapped and covered by police tape. Every path that wasn’t the one intended for them was cut off.

As if to make it obvious where they were supposed to go, handing rats in a maze a bright color to help them find their prize at the end.

There’s going to be a corpse. Someone here… is playing a game with us.

“Stay… stay here,” Seth says with an unmistakable hint of uncertainty, “If I make a loud noise, find me as fast as you can.”

“Wait,” Asuga says, pulling on the back of his parka, “I don’t think that’s…”

“Just do it, alright?” he spits out as he moves forward, inching out of the doorway. He wasn’t trying to be so abrupt, but not only was he feeling his blood rushing through his body, he also didn’t want her to see what he thought lay ahead.

As soon as he clears the way with his pistol held in front, he notices that the police tape leads up a rusty steel staircase, brown and darkish red in appearance, each step littered with manufactured holes. As he took a step over the police tape, his body hesitated. His hand holding the gun began to shake.

No… not now. Even if… no, especially if there’s a victim. They have to be found.

He sluggishly takes another step with the rusty staircase harshly creaking with each successive movement.

They can’t just rot away in a place like this. Dying, and never being seen again, never knowing peace…

Another hesitant step. He was scared, and he was afraid to admit it. After all, he labeled himself a professional for what he was. What he could do and what he could handle were two entirely different values. Despite that, he knew he had to continue as he slowly and painfully made his way up the staircase. As he reached the top step, he realized it was more or less an elevated walkway, leading from one part of the building to the other. The walls surrounding the walkway were brick, only interrupted by large paned windows that followed through for most of it. And as he approached them…

…He realized why the other entrances were blocked off.

As his eyes widened in shock and horror, he knew he’d been led. That it was a game to whoever the perpetrator was, and he was simply being shepherded through it. His eyes moved sporadically in all directions, taking in every detail of the scene that laid in front of him. He gasped, barely able to hold his breath, as he felt an inhuman groan begin to escape from his throat. Pressing his fingers against the glass, he helplessly looked on.

Police tape had been strung down from the ceiling like webs, and they held bits and pieces of a man suspended in midair. It elevated in intensity as it descended, with each cut-off of tape wrapped around and carrying a different organ, or body part. They were separated and shortened finely to make up for the lack of resources in this sadistic art piece.

And in the middle, most of the man was displayed there, suspended in a much more intricate web that attached to not only the ceiling but the sides of the production room… against abandoned metal water tanks, metal catwalks, and staircases, it was as if a flower of death had bloomed in this room. His arms, missing from his torso, were held up above his shoulders, as if he was in prayer. His hands, also missing from their original limbs, were held in place as if they were still there, bent at an angle as he presented what laid upon them to the heavens.

His eyes. With a harsh, forced smile, he presented his eyes to the heavens. His lids were closed in prayer as the corpse wished for the offering to be taken with grace.

But this man had found none. He was desecrated, his body disturbed, every inch of him displayed in a way that would drive someone mad just from the very sight.

But more than that, even more than the objective cruelty that laid before him, this disgusting hubris of inhuman action?

Seth knew the man, yet again.

“No… no, no, no…”

He gasped against his chest, gritting his teeth as his eyes began to close. They didn’t wish to see what he’d amounted to. Trying their hardest, they couldn’t shut completely as tears began to run down them.

“No… FENO!”

He banged his fist against the glass as it rumbled, resisting the force. He continued to slam against it, over and over again, gasping in desperation as he yelled.

“FENO! FENO!!”

Over, and over, and over again. But his wails didn’t have any effect. It didn’t change the reality in front of him, either.

And as his eyes widened in further horror, barely grasping the initial situation, he saw an illusion.

Blood was painted across each line of tape, each background element in a certain way that only he, at the place he stood, where he was led to, would be able to decipher. As Asuga ran up the stairs as he had instructed her to do so, his eyes glazed over the message. He could read what it said.

you are

a bug

As Seth yelled out in anger, in weak, helpless defiance against the words his eyes had just seen, he punched against the glass again, causing a cascade of cracks to form across it.

And again.

And again.

Until the cracks had deepened, but the window hadn’t fully shattered, and he slumped down to his knees, yelling in agony. The tears fell down his cheeks and hit the floor of the walkway.

There was nothing he could do.

Yet another person had suffered and had been killed, just because he existed here.

But there was no enemy, no face he could apply his hatred to.

Yggdrasil, offering no comfort, nor sarcasm, was absent with its commentary.

Asuga stared in shock at the scene before her, shielding her eyes shortly after, trying to get a grip on her fading sanity. She hadn’t seen as many corpses as Seth had.

Yet despite that, both of them were tormented and scarred by it.