I spent the next few hours reading up on what had been going on in the world. Rumors out of the Midwest of some incursions into the smaller plains towns, and rumors about some smaller European countries being overthrown by a variety of end-time cults. There was an interview with a few higher-ups in the US military about me, of all people. How they would deal with me once I’m captured. Lots of talks about titanium cages, deep, underwater trenches, or nuclear explosions.
There was a website, adjacent to war-efra.com where Chosen posted videos of their dives after YouTube deemed the content advertiser unfriendly. Instead of cash payouts, as YouTube did, however, this site offered store credit on war-efra for anything. I click through this site for something to kill time. Highlight reels of Mirror; still the number one in the world’s, dives. I couldn’t understand a single word of what she and the people with her said, as they spoke in Japanese, but I gathered enough to know that they were her logistics and videographer crew.
Her fights, like always, were things of vicious beauty. She was the chosen of some sun god and used a mirror as her primary weapon. The mirror would split into a thousand pieces and dart around the battlefield; drawing small red wounds across the bodies of the squat green creatures that made up a majority of the creatures she fought in whatever city she was in. These wounds, while painful, were more often than not, also not fatal. They were a setup, as she’d use a shard of the mirror still within the small round, silvery body to fire a beam of light. This light would flash off of every single shard hanging in the air, and pierce through every creature nearby in an instant; leaving single holes bored through their heads or hearts. And, as normal at the end of her dive videos, there were flashes of numbers with how much she made, as well a few of the items she found with similar flashes of the yen cost.
Mirror’s most recent video was a little over an hour and a half long. Practically a full-length video. I decided to open it in a new tab watch it later and continue scrolling through some of the shorter videos.
By chance, I came across a few of William’s recordings of his dives. It was released within the last week and is recorded from a third-person perspective, by someone holding a pretty high-quality camera. I suppose he hired himself a videographer. Good on him. I click on the most recent one.
It starts with William in a building crouched low. He wears his once-thin blonde hair slicked back as he presses his finger to his lips. He points downward, and the camera pans down to peek through the slats between the floorboard. By this time, it was a setup I was familiar with; a house inside of the town. Instead of sneaking down there and finishing off the ratman meandering in the kitchen area, he pulled a jar out of his bag. Inside of this jar was a variety of winged insects. He whispered something into the jar and a reddish light emitted from it. All the buzzing stopped, and he grinned at the camera.
‘Watch this,’ he mouthed to the camera as he popped open the jar. The camera pans back to the floor and to the ratman leaning on the wall. The winged insects buzz down the stairs and draws the attention of the ratman. He pulls himself to a standing position and grabs his spear to approach the strange noise. Before he even got halfway across the room, the insects swarmed him.
“Now watch,” William whispered. The camera darts in his direction and he claps, the camera then darts to the creature, swatting the flies, gnats, and mosquitos away.
All at once, the flying insects explode with bright flashes and black smoke. As the black veil fades, the creature is seen staggering before falling face-first into the ground. William runs down the stairs, and the cameraman follows him. The cameraman stands at the edge of the staircase, as Willam picks up the spear.
“This spear can net a cool 100 dollars on the internet.” He said holding it up.
A cheesy cha-ching sound followed, and a $100 tally appeared at the bottom. Ah, he’s trying to copy Mirror. After this, he bends down and pulls the single copper ring off of the creature’s tail.
“This is pure copper.” He says, “Something of this weight will only go for a few cents.” He frowns deeply, “But other of these rat things,” he kicks the rib of the dead ratman, “Have silver, gold, and even platinum rings on their tails. No one knows why they’re so different, and why these rats put them on, but every single one has a ring on his tail.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
‘No one knows why...the rats put them on,’ huh? They’re a signifier of rank. Like chevrons on a sergeant's collar. I click off. It was poorly made and cheesy compared to Mirror’s practically professional productions. I click on another one of his videos.
“Who would win in a fight?” He spoke in a way that attempted to emulate the style of YouTubers playing to a younger audience, “A cat, or a rat? Let’s find out.” He motions the cameraman to follow him.
He’s inside of a dive somewhere on a small street. In the background, I could see bodies tucked away. He leads the cameraman around a corner. The cameraman scans over two things; one an Ir that I faintly recognize…one of the Ir that I had pulled out of the same dive I rescued Nyt from. What the hell? The Ir is bound and gagged. William rips off the cheap rope around its mouth. To the person who hadn’t interacted with Ir before, they wouldn’t notice the subtle signs of beatings and torture; the slight swelling around the creature’s already large eyes, and the crooked angle of their normally flat nose. The Ir tries to bite at William, but its teeth fail to pierce the Chosen’s skin.
“Aw. Wittle kitty is mad.” William said as he planted a kick on the creature’s chest to pull his hand out of the creature’s mouth. One of its teeth rips out on William’s skin.
“Would you look at that…” He said as he pulled it out, “This thing actually contains a little mana. If ground down into a fine powder it could be made with a variety of other ingredients into a potion that helps overcome mana lock."
William stuffs the tooth in his pocket.
“Are you feeling sorry for it? Don’t. This little monster was one of the Efrans Lawrence Able led to invade Arville a couple weeks back. Right before leading my sister into that trap.” He nearly spat as he spoke, though I noticed that, despite the quivering rage in his voice; neither his eyes nor the curl in his lips indicated any rage.
It was something that I had noticed about him before. He was very performative when it came to expressing emotions, yet when no one was looking his face would turn stoic, or cold. Or, at some points, annoyed if someone asked him to do something. I suppose I’ll have to explain to William as well what was going on. This fucking cult. Ruining my life and relationships.
“And here’s our other combatant! TA-DA.” He motions for the camera to pan over to the side of the building. An injured ratman is likewise bound and gagged. Neither of them had any arms or armor. “Now I have to get things ready. Watch closely.
He grabbed the Ir by short hairs on its head dragged it across the cobblestone toward the ratman, and then squatted down in front of them.
“Let Aite open thine eyes and listen to my words.”
A red glow emitted from him and washed over the two imprisoned creatures.
“You two are mortal enemies. You want nothing more than to kill the other, however, you will not see each other until both of you are on the street over there.” He pointed behind him.
When he was finished, a pair of red cuffs appeared on both of their wrists; barely visible, even with my Clairvoyance. If my magic stat wasn’t so inflated, I don’t think I would have noticed it. After the order was given, and the cuffs formed around their wrist he cut off their ropes. The two of them walk in the direction that William had indicated.
As soon as both of their feet touch the cobbles, the hairs on the back of the neck of the Ir bristle and it lunges forward. The ratman squealed angrily as it pivoted on its heel and punched forward; utilizing its longer reach to grab hold of the cat creature’s face before its razor-like teeth could cut up its flesh. Not missing a beat, the Ir wrapped its body around the creature's extended arm and kicked forward; the claws on its foot protruding just as the tips of its toes made impact with the creature’s face.
The claws ripped through the creature’s face like scissors through the paper as a chunk of cheek. The ratman slams the Ir’s body down onto the ground, and slams the fist of its other hand into the Ir’s face, landing a solid blow against the creature’s left eye. The Ir didn’t relent, however, as it raked its clawed feet downward; tearing through flesh and fur in long, bloody streaks.
As the ratman reeled, the Ir let go and darted forward raking its claws across the stomach of the injured ratman as it passed underneath its arm, once more reaching out for it like a sword’s man sliding underneath the arc of a swing to land a counter. The ratman fell forward and clutched its stomach. Just before the cameraman turned away, the image of the creature’s guts spilled out onto the cobblestone street.
“Well, it looks like cats are stronger than rats,” William says with a shrug. He reaches for his belt and pulls out a dagger. “Now, to finish this!”
The camera turns around to see William approaching the Ir from behind; flipping the dagger in the air several times. The Ir turns around as it clutches the side of its face where the blow had landed. It growls for a moment before William catches his dagger once more and launches into a vicious, attack. Stabbing forward into the creature’s sides, legs, arms, stomach, and chest. Purposefully avoiding killing it by sending small bits of healing energy through it. Again, it wasn’t something that most people would catch on to, but he kept the Ir alive to prolong its suffering as the pointed blade sank in again and again and again. The gray streets were painted red by the time the cameraman’s begging cries finally broke through to him, and he drove his dagger into the Ir’s chest; ending its suffering by puncturing its heart.
He turns; his right hand and sleeve painted a dripping dark red. He points the dagger toward the camera.
“If you’re watching Lawrence,” He says with a maniacal grin, “this is what I’m going to do to you and your fucking animals.” He spits out before the camera cuts off.