Nicolai’s shield was already up and he deflected the pieces of paper sent from above as he lifted off the ground, the furniture clattering as they rushed at him. They were too slow and he was quick out of reach. Through his Soul Sense he felt the two girls behind him, also in the air and rising above the furniture.
Nicolai wielded the AA-12 in one hand, taking aim at the book. He slid his shield to the side and sent a burst of 12 gauge at the floating Imbued. It was caught and pinwheeled backwards through the air, paper bursting out of it, chased by a hail of 9mm from Beth’s SMG.
The undead had already turned into mist and it descended within a great hand of water vapour. Nicolai dismissed his shield and took the AA-12 in both hands, his Soul Sense focused and receptive. He knew what to look for, now. The mist poured around him and he felt a ripple in the Aura. It came from behind. Nicolai spun and aimed and squeezed the shotgun’s trigger. The AA-12 howled.
The undead was caught in the air by a hail of buckshot, its shield splintering, then it transformed into mist and passed him by. He grasped for it, his hand wreathed in lightning, but it kept its distance and as he’d yet to break its Soul Sense, he couldn’t aim the lightning from a distance.
Nicolai kept rising towards the top of the bookshelf, Beth and Jo right behind him, and they touched down a moment later. The furniture down there stirred angrily, glaring up at them. The undead in its mist-form roved between the wooden guardians.
‘Hit it with your Soul Senses,’ he urged, sending his Soul Sense tendril out to strike at the undead. However it was hard to do any damage as in its mist form it was difficult to properly hit it, though the undead also seemed unable to properly strike back for the same reason. In only moments it had left the range of their Soul Senses.
Nicolai stared down with narrowed eyes at the mist flowing around furniture some distance away. He wanted to kill it and take its Imbued, but the undead wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t trying particularly hard to take him down and retrieve the books he had stolen, because it knew if it overextended he would kill it.
It seemed to have conceded the books, at least for now. That struck him as strange. Surely its whole purpose was to defend the books? Once he left, wouldn’t it have failed in that purpose? He’d assumed it would have been given some order regarding this, and had also assumed it was not allowed to leave the library. Unless…
‘Come on,’ he said, turning and floating away, toward the exit. The furniture were clustered there, too, but he and the girls simply floated over them. The wooden guardians had no answer for their ability to fly and could only let out creaks of anger as they watched Nicolai and the others escape.
They touched down on the far side of the gap, at the top of the stairwell down to the ground. There Nicolai stared back into the library. The mist was among the furniture clustered there, the undead watching them from within. The three of them headed down the stairs, to stand by the statues at the bottom, and there Nicolai had his confirmation.
The undead’s mist emerged from the library to lurk at the top of the stairs, watching from a distance. So, it could leave the library. For some reason he’d thought it wouldn’t be able to, that it would be confined to its post. But he supposed there was no reason for it to stay when he’d taken the prize it had guarded.
This was why the undead wasn’t throwing itself at them. It had opted instead to wait. It would follow, and wait for a chance, and then strike. This was a wise move, the kind of move Nicolai would have made were their roles reversed.
‘It’s following us,’ said Beth needlessly.
‘Uh,’ grunted Nicolai.
‘That’s not good,’ she added.
‘Uh.’ That was, indeed, not good. He didn’t want to lead it back to the safe-place. He didn’t want to worry about it showing up in ambush at the moment he was most disadvantaged, which was exactly when he would choose to strike, if he were it.
It would be the worst kind of enemy, one with no goal other than killing him and taking the books. With its ability to rapidly damage ones Soul the moment it got its hands on someone, it might be lethal if attacking from ambush.
What would happen if it had left not just one stain of Soul rot on him, but two, or three, or ten? Nicolai had the impression that there was only so much of his Soul he could cut away.
He needed to do something about this, set some kind of trap for it and kill it. He still wanted its powerful Imbued. Either that, or at the very least to get away from it so it couldn’t follow them to the safe-place.
He deactivated his Imbued, the lightning fading from his body, the glow from his glove. He made sure to do this where it could see. This enemy had shown enough awareness and wisdom that he felt sure it would note details like this. It would be less likely to strike if it knew he was ready with the blue lightning, his primary weapon against it, and he wanted it to strike.
He reclaimed his Pegasi ring from Jo, since she couldn’t use it effectively while also wielding a gun, then led the other two out of the library area and they began their journey. Not towards the safe place, as he didn’t want to even indicate where their home was by moving in its direction, instead towards a place he thought could work for an ambush.
‘We’re going to set an ambush for that thing. We can’t allow it to find the safe place,’ he said to the others.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Jo.
Nicolai glanced over his shoulder, seeing the mist down at the far end of the corridor they walked within. The undead was keeping around fifty metres away from them. Not too close, not too far. It didn’t want to risk them getting away so and was close enough to pursue if they broke into a run.
Nicolai tapped his Mark and checked his map to be sure he was in the right place. His memory was on point. They were almost there.
‘We run,’ he said. ‘Ready?’ They nodded, and he started running, the girls in tow. Peeking over his shoulder he saw the mist charging after them. He restrained a grin.
They turned a corner, then another, and were heading towards an opening. Nicolai activating his Blue Hornet, his mind focused on stilling the ripples of Aura it released, working to hide its activation. ‘Once we come out there, Beth goes right, Jo goes left, hold positions there and shell up your Soul Senses. I’ll go up. As soon as it comes out, hit it with your Soul Senses.’
They emerged into the large room before the undead had had time to turn the corner behind them, still out of its view. The girls moved to either side while Nicolai floated into the air, rising high to ensure he could remain out of the reach of its Soul Sense, working hard to calm the Aura ripples now from both his Pegasi ring and the Blue Hornet. He couldn’t completely keep them hidden so rose high, in the hope that by being further away they would be less detectable. He flailed his arms and legs, charging up his Blue Hornet’s art as quick as he could, his limbs humming almost as the Blue Hornet’s wings had long ago, when he first saw it charge its Art. Not exactly graceful, but it did the job.
He heard it before he saw it, then the mist poured into the room. Nicolai relaxed his Pegasi ring and he plummeted downwards. Lightning crackled over his body, the Art made ready.
The undead reacted quick, the mist turning around, but Jo and Beth immediately struck with their Soul Senses from either side then a moment later Nicolai did the same from above. The triple strike had good effect in spite of the muffling the undead’s mist-form caused, and for a moment it froze, stunned.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Nicolai fell through it, activating his Pegasi ring at the last second to slow his fall, his hand crackling with lightning as he lunged for where he felt the undead hidden in the mist.
Lightning crashed through it and the undead’s form was revealed, spasming and twisting, trying to get away, ripped out of its mist. His Soul Sense along with Beth and Jo’s fell on it like a hammer, and its Soul Sense broke.
The undead struggled away and staggered into a run, down the corridor, while Nicolai advanced after it. He levelled the shotgun, a grin twisting his face as he squeezed the trigger. The shots ploughed into it from behind, smashing into its shield with sharp cracks. He’d be through in a few shots more. The shadows squirmed around it, hungry, eager, and then—
Attackers! cried Threat Analysis, Behind you!
Nicolai’s eyes shot wide. He spun in place, charging his glove and raising his shield just in time. A bullet snapped off his shield to deflect away, the crack of a gunshot sounding.
There was a group of people standing on the other side of the room, weapons raised. Jo and Beth, who were already positioned near to the walls, ducked into alcoves, taking cover. Nicolai, stood in the open, would have immediately moved in counterattack but he sensed that the group wasn’t going to shoot again; not yet, and he could use a little time. One of them looked about to talk. He held his shield ready before him, charging it back to full while staring through it at the new arrivals. None of them had a proper Soul Sense; no Cultivators.
‘That was a warning shot,’ pronounced one of them, a short man, calmly, smugly. ‘Drop your weapons and we’ll let you live.’
Nicolai gaped at the man, struggling to truly understand the words being spoken. The undead... He threw a look over his shoulder and saw the undead turn a corner, fleeing to go and plot its revenge. Gone. My Imbued… His gaze slowly returned to the people facing him.
The walls grew dark. The shadows rippled. Animalistic faces twisted with furious snarls swam into view. He could feel the darkness pumping through him, slipping easily from its cage. The walls were peppered with reddened eyes that stared at his Target, the man who had shot at him, the man who had allowed the undead and all its Imbued and the threat it represented to escape his grasp.
‘You stupid fuck,’ he spat, fully charging his Sheltering glove and sending the Grasping Finger Symbiote swimming through his body, into his hand, fully charged. His Node approached empty and he stopped himself just in time, leaving a few drops for it to keep funnelling Oma to his two unfinished lung Nodes.
‘Hey, I said drop the gun,’ said the short man. ‘You raise it, I’ll blast you. Keep it down or else—‘
‘Kill them,’ he messaged Jo and Beth, and Nicolai snapped the AA-12 up, already squeezing the trigger. He got two shots off in the quarter-second before they started firing back, blowing holes in two of them. He dropped the AA-12 as they fired, raised his shield as he threw himself towards them. Nicolai danced left and right, dodging most of their shots, deflecting the rest.
They were numerous and his shield was quickly suffering severe cracks, the Oma in his glove rapidly exhausting, but it was necessary for him to hold their fire, because meanwhile Jo and Beth were shooting from the sides.
He reached out with his other hand and used the Grasping Finger Symbiote to pull on a man in the back, dragging the man forwards to crash into another, sending them both to the floor and simultaneously pulling Nicolai rapidly forwards. An instant later he’d redirected the Grasping Finger’s effect to another, dragging that one off balance, too, orchestrating another collision in their ranks, then the same again.
Nicolai’s work with the Grasping Finger Symbiote knocked all of them stumbling and falling in the space of a couple of seconds, preventing them from accurately shooting—just for a moment—and pulling him rapidly toward them.
A moment was all that was necessary, as meanwhile Jo and Beth were shooting at them, and the girls didn’t miss. The enemy were yelling and screaming and falling and dying. Nicolai arrived and they were all on the ground in bloodstained heaps, the fight over only seconds after it had begun.
The short man was still alive. He had a hole in his knee and was taking in panting, horrified breaths, face screwed up with pain, trying to hold the the splinters of his kneecap together. He looked up and saw Nicolai staring down at him.
‘We weren’t gonna kill you,’ babbled the short man. ‘That’s why I fired the warning shot, I—‘
Nicolai’s pistol had appeared in his hand. He angled it and squeezed the trigger, and the man’s other knee exploded. His words transformed into a scream of utter, ruinous pain, more like an animal than a person.
‘Does that hurt?’ asked Nicolai.
The short man just howled and screamed and clutched at his knees. Nicolai shot him in a foot next. More screaming and shaking.
‘How about that?’ he asked, leaning down, then he shot him in the stomach, and then in the chest, the bullets going further up. ‘Does that hurt, you stupid fuck?’ he snarled as he kept firing and blood misted the air. The short man was a shaking, squirming thing of blood and pain and suffering and this was right, because he had cost Nicolai greatly and he deserved to die like the dumb shithead he was.
‘Idiot.’ Nicolai hissed, grabbing the man by the throat and squeezing the pistol against his head and pulling the trigger; a stark retort that silenced the wails. A spray of red caught Nicolai in the face as the dead man slumped, a hole in his forehead. Oddly soothing. He shot the man in the head again, then again, squeezing the trigger until the pistol clicked. Empty.
There was a rushing noise in his ears. An endless, furious whining. The faces in the walls were grinning at him and whispering. He rose to his feet and stomped on the man’s head. ‘Stupid, fucking, bastard.’ He ground the words out, accentuating each with another stomp. His savage breaths steamed in the frigid air. By the time he was done the man’s head was just a mess of blood and bone and brain, much of it coating Nicolai’s boot.
He felt movement from behind and turned to see Jo and Beth approaching, wary, guns half-raised, eyes fixed on him. He met their gazes, his face blank. His Mask was saying something but it was just a jumble, meaningless.
Kill them, whispered the shadows. Cut them up, snarled the faces, their eyes bulging, teeth gnashing.
‘Shut up,’ he snapped. He wouldn’t kill them. They were his.
‘What?’ Jo stared at him. She licked her lips. He saw her eyes dart down to take in the bloody corpse behind him. ‘Neither of us said anything. Uh. Are you okay?’
‘Mask,’ he murmured, and pressed his hands to face, massaging his eyes. When he removed them the shadows were still twisting and the faces were still there, staring at him, grinning at him, snarling at him. ‘Control,’ he snarled back at them. He couldn’t find his Mask. Where was it?
The girls were looking quite concerned. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. The urge to kill them intensified, squirming through him, and he forced it aside, redirected it to another target. A furious bark of laughter erupted out of him and he was spinning around and sinking to a squat beside the remnants of the short man’s body.
‘You stupid cunt,’ he hissed at the gore, not entirely sure if he was talking to the corpse or himself. His hand-talon slipped out and he stabbed randomly at the meat with short, savage jabs, which muscle memory aimed at the corpses vital points.
‘I think he’s dead,’ came Beth’s voice.
He peered over to see her staring at him, face twisted with disgust, while Jo was looking queasy to the side.
‘Just making sure,’ he growled, then rose to his feet and took a deep breath. He reached inside and wrestled with the darkness, struggling and pushing, attempting to get it back into its cage. His Mask came in from the side, back at last and helping out. It was embarrassed. The girls had seen him lose himself. Not good, not good, etc.
The world blurred around him and then he was holding the corpse by the leg and slamming it into the wall, putting all the strength of his body into the movement.
Wham. ‘Bastard!’ Smack. ‘Fuck you!’ Crack.
Calm down. He let the corpse fall. The bloodstain on the wall grinned at him. He couldn’t get the dark back in its cage. The hole was open. He could feel something, pressing into him from the other side. This is bad, thought some part of him, perhaps the Mask. This is a waste of time, a loss of control, and I am making myself vulnerable to attack, not to mention damaging my reputation, thought the part of him that considered itself the True Nicolai, or at least he thought it was.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning back to Jo and Beth, raising his hands helplessly, then those hands turned into fists and he snarled, struggling with the urge to punch himself in the face. Why was he like this? He staggered away from them, shaking his head, knowing he was just fucking everything up.
He laughed, astonished by how weak he was, by his inability to control himself, by this pathetic, childish lapse. The laughter rang out and out and out and the shadows and the blood and corpses laughed merrily with him, and the laughter was in him and it was coming through the hole.
Kill Jo and Beth, kill Maric, kill yourself. Kill kill kill kill—
‘Illogical,’ Nicolai hissed, scowling, confused. ‘Pointless.’ He shook his head. ‘What is happening to me? To you? Who is saying this?’ He watched the dark but it was hard to see it, it was all through him. But it wasn’t the dark, he felt sure of that. The dark would never tell him to kill himself. Everything else, yes. But kill himself? No. His inner eye turned to the hole. There were strands coming out of it, strands that reached into the dark… into him. They moved, and Nicolai felt an urge to move with them.
To do as they bid.
Nicolai’s face spasmed with rage. Never. Never again would he be slaved to another’s will. The dark twisted through him as he cut at the strands, gathered them, shoved them before him, and threw them through the hole.
And Nicolai lunged after them, driving forward, determined to put an end to this.
The hole grew, rising, lunging for him, and then he was through and Nicolai found himself in another world.
Strange and nightmarish beings looked down upon him. He felt like a frog at the bottom of a well and they the hungry herons, ghoulish faces staring down at him from far above.