As a child, Dallion loved watching zombie movies with his friends. It was discouraged by their parents, which automatically made it interesting. Also, there was a lot of blood, violence, and jump scares. Nearly always, the watching session would be followed by a “serious” discussion regarding how one would survive in a zombie apocalypse.
Right now, Dallion didn’t have to imagine it. Whatever Alien had done had effectively transformed a large party of the people into the equivalent. They weren’t slow, decomposing, nor did they seek brains. But laying eyes on him was enough for even old ladies to become violent and set off to fight him.
Keeping out of sight, Dallion watched a rather expensive car drop off Atol a few roads away. Despite his warning, she had convinced someone to lend a hand. Thankfully, she was cautious enough not to let him see Dallion.
With a whisper she made the man drive off, then—only after making sure that no one was looking at her—did she pick up the phone.
Dallion’s mobile vibrated.
“Nice car,” Dallion whispered.
“Haven’t you learned by now?” The woman spoke casually, but there was slight tension in her words. “Where are you?”
“Head towards the oak, then continue along the street. You’ll see me in a few miles.”
The woman looked in Dallion’s direction, but her perception trait had to be less than his, for she didn’t comment on noticing him.
“I really have no idea why I put up with this,” she hissed.
“Because you’re hoping that I’ll be able to help you relearn some of your skills, but mostly because you don’t want to remain alone in a world of awakened.”
“Shithead.” She closed the connection.
As she was approaching, Dallion went through his plan. In typical fashion, it was rather reckless. He had found what he suspected to be Alien’s home. What was left was to get there in one piece. Combat splitting gave him a substantial advantage, but it wasn’t foolproof—one mistake too many and Dallion could end up dead.
Putting his phone away, Dallion looked at his left hand. All the scars and scrapes had vanished, courtesy of Lux. Sadly, it wouldn’t be enough to stop a knife or bullet.
“I wish you were here old man,” Dallion said, thinking of Adzorg. “At least then I’d know what spell your apprentice is using.”
In some ways, it felt like music, but the general behavior didn’t fit. Also, when Dallion had tried using his own music skills to convince a biker to stop chasing him, there hadn’t been any real effect.
The only thing he could think of was the use of limiting echos. It wouldn’t be the first time. Yet, to place echoes in so many people, Alien would need a lot more than dedication.
It took ten minutes for Atol to reach Dallion. Even in these circumstances, she refused to run, out of caution and pettiness in equal measure. Seeing that no one was following, Dallion stepped out of his hiding spot and went to meet her.
“You better have some good news.” The woman shook her head.
“I know where he is,” Dallion said.
“That’s it?” She didn’t sound at all impressed.
“Magic seems to require electricity in this world,” Dallion continued, as if she had asked a completely different question. “There’s one house that’s been using loads of it for years. The residents aren’t anything special, but they got approved for unlimited tier usage.”
“I got to live in a five-star hotel for a month without paying.”
“He’s there, I’m sure.” He turned around and looked in the opposite direction. “Half a mile that way. You can see the house.”
There was only one house in the area and it didn’t seem at all what anyone would imagine being the home of a powerful mage. It was nice, and no doubt expensive, though hardly luxurious by any means. It would be great for someone out of college, yet anyone used to power and luxury would skip it for something at least three times as large.
“That?” Atol winced. “Mage standards have fallen a lot since my time.”
“It’s not what’s on the outside,” Dallion said with a serious expression. “The reason he’s constantly using so much power is to maintain the illusion spells inside.”
“Shit…” The woman managed to say. “That stuff works here?”
“Magic is magic. If you have the skill, it’s just a matter of finding the power source, thus… electricity.”
“So, we’re walking into a death trap?”
“You’re not.” Dallion tossed her his phone. “You’ll be the distraction.”
The woman looked at the phone. It was obvious what Dallion was suggesting. He would be taking most of the risk, though her involvement wouldn’t be completely risk free.
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“You did this a lot there, didn’t you?” It was probably the saddest comment one could make. “When do you want it?”
“Give me ten seconds and dial. Contact’s name is Alien.”
Saying that, Dallion combat split and dashed towards the building in question. A few months ago—or several years in the awakened world—he would have been terrified putting his life at risk like this. He had gained a lot of experience since then, plus there was a reason pushing him forward this time.
The ground beneath one of his instances suddenly gave in, then vanished altogether, revealing a thin metal mesh covering a pit. It was an elegant and inventive use of illusion magic, creating a low-cost trap.
Spikes, Alien? Dallion faded his instance in question, then split again. In his mind, the COMBAT INITIATED rectangle had just lit up. He had made the first move and now it was time for the mage to respond.
A series of walls emerged surrounding the mage’s building. Multiple illusions placed around it had changed focus, changing reality into what would serve Alien best. The move was surprisingly amateurish. Dallion had expected a lot more; maybe not the ground gaining the shape of rays of destruction destroying half the neighborhood, but definitely more than this.
His instances changed directions. While one rushed straight for the neighborhood power pole. Relying so much on electricity, Alien had made the choice to get a building physically close to it. That provided him the benefit of using large amounts of power from the entire grid when he needed to. It also made him vulnerable.
“Nox,” Dallion said, slapping his hand on the concrete base of the pole.
In less than a second a mesh of cracks formed all over its surface. No longer capable of maintaining its own weight, the pole tilted, then fell, tearing the cables as it did. The entire neighborhood was left without power. Soon enough everyone would be calling the electric company with complaints and demands for an update on the situation. More importantly for Dallion, the wall surrounding Alien’s house instantly vanished, replaced by a set of tiles covered in wires that formed complex patterns.
Got you, Dallion thought as he split again. Now both the external and internal defenses of the building were gone.
Three seconds remained in the ten seconds until Atol’s call. Things hadn’t gone exactly to plan, though it was still possible to use it to Dallion’s advantage.
Placing his hand on the door was more than enough to break it open. One of his instances immediately rushed in… only to be shot into the corridor wall by a shotgun. The remaining two instances paused, pressing against the walls on both sides of the door. Brute force wasn’t going to be enough for victory.
Evaluating his options, Dallion simultaneously jumped onto the building’s roof, went to the nearest ground-floor window, and broke the door’s hinges again. In two of the cases, Alien was waiting for him. Shots were triggered after the fall of the door and at Dallion’s attempt to go through the window. Going through the roof, surprisingly, wasn’t anticipated, so Dallion chose that as his reality. That alarmed him somewhat. If there was one thing that he knew, it was that Alien wasn’t stupid. He would never leave such an obvious weakness, unless he wanted to fool someone into a false sense of security.
Tiles, Dallion said, using his empathy ability. Are there any traps beneath you?
Traps? Several of them asked, surprised. There are no traps.
Just improvements, another added. The metal sheet beneath can withstand anything.
Metal… so that was the mage’s trick. For one, it was probably reinforced steel. For another, there was a good chance that it was covered in illusion symbols as well.
Right then, a ringtone sounded. It was faint; no one without awakened skills would have even noticed, but Dallion did. Not only that, but he was able to pinpoint its location within the building. Despite recent events, it wasn’t coming from the ground floor, but the second.
There could be many reasons for that. There was no reason for Alien to have the phone with him at all times. Dallion himself would leave it in his dorm on frequent occasions. However, the place that the phone usually was had to be the one most frequented.
Rushing along the roof, Dallion used his athletic and acrobatic skills to smash through two of the second-floor windows. In both instances he ended up in the same room. Neither was followed by a gunshot.
The room was small, full of cheap furniture, and a computer that had probably gone out of fashion in the year two thousand. Cables covered the walls, forming symbols. Funnily enough, Dallion could recognize quite a few of them. Once the power was restored, the place would likely be at least ten times as large, pleasantly cool, and possibly full of waterfalls.
A pair of shots punctured the door of the room, followed by the start of a click—the mage was reloading. This was it—the best opportunity Dallion would get. Splitting again, he leaped into the door. Splinters exploded all around as Dallion entered the corridor. A man with a rather impressive rifle was there, in the process of reloading.
Instantly, Dallion grabbed the weapon. He expected Alien to put up some resistance, but surprisingly, he was able to pull it out of the man’s hands even before Nox could break it.
It was only then that Dallion got a good look at the man. There could be no doubt that it was the last archmage of the Academy. Alien’s features were recognizable, even if he appeared four times younger. Skinny, unshaven, wearing a pair of clothes that most people would throw out, there was nothing left of the grandeur the man had in the awakened world.
“Alien?” Dallion asked, unable to believe his eyes.
The other didn’t say a thing, staring forward in sheer terror.
“What are the rest of your countermeasures?” Dallion asked, using his music skills to nudge the man. “Are there guards in the house?”
“No guards,” the other replied. “Can’t be trusted.”
The response made one thing clear. Alien wasn’t making an attempt to take over Centennial. He was hiding from someone, or possibly something. All the layers of protection were just that—a means to ensure that the mage knew when other awakened came close and could deal with them.
“Who’s after you?”
Alien didn’t say a word.
“Why are you hiding?”
The sound of a creak caught Dallion’s attention. It seemed that there was someone else in the house, after all.
With Alien’s mobile still ringing in the background, Dallion split into instances. Letting go of Alien in one of them, he rushed along the corridor. There was no telling who he’d stumble on. It could be an unsuspecting guest or it could be another awakened.
As it turned out, it wasn’t too difficult to find out. Within moments, Katka emerged. Unlike Alien, she appeared almost the same as she was in the awakened world, possibly a bit older.
“I thought it might be you,” she said, looking at Dallion. “And to answer your question, he’s hiding from everyone. There aren’t many mages in the world, and everyone who remembers hates us all.”