‘Second verse, same as the first.’
I’d like to say the pain is indescribable, but that’s just plain incorrect. As I tumble to the ground, vision blurring to lacerated red, every spindle of agony makes itself well known in my mind — I can’t concentrate on anything else.
Felix’s warning prevented a direct hit from my unknown assailant. Yet, the thing that hit me wasn’t aiming for my heart — it was aiming at something much deeper than that.
My soul.
Greasy thorns emerge and curl around the points of impact — I can feel them snaking their way through my body. The pain is something exquisite: I’ve only felt something close to this once. Invisible barbed chains tighten and constrict around my heart and creep up my neck. My body reacts far before my mind does and throws up a thin barrier around my vitals.
A curse. It couldn’t be anything else.
“Marie! Are you alright?”
A voice calls out to me. Then, my body is pulled from the floor and hauled against my will — I recognize the sensation of my feet being dragged across the ground.
My innate arcane defenses push away the shock and pain from my mind and reaffirm the situation with cruel clarity. Felix is dragging me by the arm and trying to haul me into a storefront for cover. I flinch in a combination of revulsion and panic and we both go crashing to the ground. Directly into a nice pile of glass shards and other fun debris.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I push off him and aim my Burst spell — only to feel something close to a wreath of blades erupting from within my arm. The spell fizzles out after that: I hold in a pained scream that comes out as a tiny grunt.
But Felix isn’t even paying attention to me. He’s kneeling by one of the shop windows, scanning the upper and lower floors for something.
The idiot I was trying to kill saved me from some unknown enemy. The situation is just so stupid that I want to laugh.
“Is that somebody you know?” Felix asks in a hushed tone.
I scowl and barely resist the urge to bludgeon him with the nearest applicable object. “What do you think?”
“That isn’t very good.”
I push myself to my knees and quickly assess the damage to my chest. As far as I can tell, there are no physical wounds, but the spiritual wounds run deep — my mind’s eye shows me the curse coiling around my circuits, choking their power. But in the meantime, my body still works. Good enough for me.
Then, my gaze snaps towards the origin of the attack — the assailant is already moving towards us.
They’re floating.
What is halfway across the court could only be described as a nightmare. It is an emaciated skeleton with ghostly white skin stretched taught across malformed ribs and bones. Loose chains and scraps of parchment wrap around its body like a mummy, waving freely in a manner that defies both gravity and logic. It holds out two glowing purple things in his hands — I pour a bit of mana into my eyes to enhance my vision. Then I immediately regret it.
In each hand lies a twitching eyeball the size of a grapefruit.
These are details that seem like just passing traits, but when put together, they form an amalgamation that should never escape the human imagination. I prevent myself from gagging and immediately aim both my hands towards the thing.
I don’t need to know what something is to destroy it.
I tap into the reserve of my mana and line up the constructs in my mind’s eye. Then, I load in all the mana at once — just like shoving a shell into the chamber of a shotgun. “Prime—”
Something goes wrong. The grasping tendrils reach up, penetrate the brain-blood barrier, and breaks my focus — I lose control of everything. The spell goes awry and fractured and splinters in every direction: my arms take most of the recoil and a searing pain burns my fingers. As in, I can smell the coppery burnt smell of boiling blood leaking from my fingers. And it hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt before — the initial curse was a mere tickling compared to this.
I would lose in a ranged battle without my weapons. I’m not even sure if my hands are still usable — I can’t feel the tips of my fingers. So, instead of finding out if I can take this thing, I turn tail and sprint out of the store and into the nearest maintenance door.
“Wait!”
Felix keeps pace with my ordinary pace. I’m forced to see his concerned mug in my peripheral as we sprint through the darkness, illuminated by a flickering phone flashlight.
“Where are we going?” he asks eagerly, almost like a dog that suddenly learned how to talk. “What was that thing?”
“Shut up,” I snap between pants, “get distance — need to get away from that thing…!”
“Understood.”
Then, he picks up his pace and leaves me in the dust. He just accelerates forward like it’s nothing, yet still stays close enough to me to reach. But I’m more impressed by his inhuman ability to create coherent sentences while running.
Our footsteps only slow down when we turn three more corners and stumble into a storage area. I pick a crate at random to crash land against — merely breathing is starting to hurt. Like there’s now a big red rubber ball of pain bouncing with each twitch of my diaphragm. It’s pitch black in her save for Felix’s phone light, but he’s just shining the light in my general direction and standing around awkwardly. He didn’t even break a sweat.
“Stop pointing that thing at me,” I wheeze.
He listens — the light tilts at a seventy-degree angle and shines upon bright yellow shelves and a 2-NORTH stencil on the wall.
“There’s old fuel in here,” he mutters. “Construction area.”
My breath stabilizes after a few moments and I turn towards my former query, very much regretting that I can’t just blast him right now. But there is a much bigger problem now.
“Were you followed?” I ask.
Felix shakes his head and glances at the pathway we came from. “Not that I can recall. But I think that thing was here when I got here.”
“Shit.” I press my burnt fingertips into my palm, grit through the lingering pain, and focus on the boy’s face. Shadows swim eagerly across his worried expression.
“I don’t think that creature was natural,” Felix comments. “By the way, there’s something on your neck—”
“No shit.”
My condition seems to have stabilized for now, but the lingering effects of the curse are clear enough. When I close my eyes and focus on the condition of my body — the flow of mana throughout my body — I can sense twinned growths fraying the integrity of my circuits. The beams that pierced through me bloomed these tumorous growths, and with each passing second, they’re slowly creeping towards both my heart and up my neck. The effects must be reflected on my physical body as well, but I’m not very intent on figuring out just how damaged I must look right now.
If either of those growths reaches my heart or my brain, I will die. I can’t use my spells either — if mana was fuel, then my mental construct would be the engine that makes things happen. And right now, the fuel pipe going from my tank to my engine has sprung a massive leak due to this damned curse. I’m lucky that I only received burns.
Erika won’t help me unless my life is directly in danger. Or, if my enemies are smart and have done as preparations as us, have erected a barrier that would be able to cut off our communications. I can’t count on her this time.
This situation, frankly speaking, is the worst situation I’ve ever experienced. It sucks eggs straight from a chicken’s ass. And then there’s just this clueless guy standing in front of me, completely unperturbed from the fact that I just tried to murder him not even a few minutes ago.
“What are you standing there for?” I point accusingly at him and frown. “This isn’t your fight. Why aren’t you running?”
Felix looks hesitant to answer, but not even a second later, he comes spilling the beans in full force. “I need you, Marie.”
“What… do you mean by that?”
“That’s the thing — I don’t know.” He looks me dead in the eyes through the darkness and stares hard. “I don’t know why I tried spying on you. I don’t know why the time or the numbers happen — I don’t even know if I’m real anymore.” He grabs his head with his free hand and sucks in a lungful of damp air.
“Time? What...” His words confuse me. Time? Numbers? What the actual shit is that supposed to mean?
“There must be some sort of meaning to all of this,” Felix mutters, calm voice breaking with a crack of disturbed mania. “You’re… magic. This is all supernatural. That means nothing is off limits — human logic and rationality no longer applies. I just… want to know what’s real. Please.”
Oh gods. This guy is having a gods damned existential crisis. This is the last thing I need.
It takes a moment to gather my thoughts. “Snap. Out. Of. It! Stop trying to understand — that’s precisely what’s gotten us to this point in the first place.” I gesture to the room around us and then step closer. “Haven’t you ever heard of the thing with curiosity and the—”
Stab. Pain pierces through my lungs and my chest and my neck and forces me to cringe in on myself. I gasp.
“Marie…!” The bastard has the gall to try to steady me. I grab onto his wrists and summon my fiercest glare.
“Just… shut up already!” With a jerk and a direct injection of spite into my system, I straighten up and drag him with me deeper into the labyrinth of concealed tunnels.
“Why are you taking me with you?” he asks.
“You ask too many fucking questions.” I tug him once more and he starts keeping pace properly. “I’m still definitely, definitely going to kill you after this. But first things, we need to get rid of that thing.”
“Can’t we just run?”
The sheer audacity of this rat bastard’s ignorance forces me to stop and turn on him. “Why do you think I’m going through all of this bullshit in the first place? I’m doing this — all of this — specifically to eliminate the spread of information.” I jab my index finger into his jacket, even though it hurts like hell. “Because if I don’t do this, somebody else is gonna come and do it. And if somebody else does it, not only Erika and I are going to die, but everybody in this god awful tourist trap of a town is gonna get dusted!”
I quickly realize that I’m sharing the secrets of our world to an outsider, but I realize just as fast that I don’t really care right now. Given the glimpses of knowledge Felix already has, something tells me he’s already been involved without knowing.
Although I can’t detect magic within him, his physical capabilities are way beyond average. Worst comes to worst, he can serve as a meat shield if I promise him what he wants. Fine by me if he gets killed in the crossfire.
I’ll need to get rid of him eventually, after all.
Felix seems to be satisfied with the explanation. His breathing stabilizes and he regards me with his usual cool and calm look. “What exactly are we up against, then?”
I actually have no idea. I’m pretty well read into the various mythologies and folklores of the world, but that creature’s appearance didn’t line up with anything I knew about. “I… I don’t know. You’re the nerd. Does that resemble anything in your made-up fantasy bullshit?”
I decide to purposely neglect the fact that some of the ‘made-up bullshit’ isn’t made up at all. It’s probably better for everybody involved.
The gears almost audibly turn as Felix’s face scrunches in thought. Then he raises his flip phone and starts pressing buttons.
He just keeps clickety clacking on his Nokia brick as we walk deeper into the tunnels. I turn and frown at the noise — it’s starting to drill another headache in my already burnt mind.
“What are you doing?”
“Research,” he says, not looking up from his phone. “You’re looking for a mythological creature, yeah? I’m seeing what I can find on Nupedia.”
This guy caught on alarmingly quick. I nod and keep pulling him along, searching for any signs of the enemy creature. “You play tabletop and video games, right? That should make explaining this much easier.” A corner approaches. I stop and make sure there’s nothing waiting for me before continuing my explanation. “Several theories and schools of magic are able to summon creatures that shouldn’t exist: beasts known as Phantasmas — I think we’re dealing with one of those right now. But whoever is against us is trying to get tricky. These creatures typically originate from myth and legend — by obfuscating and combining legends through a variety of means, they can conceal a summon’s weakness.”
Felix pauses. “A chimera?”
“...Yeah. Close enough.”
Chains, eyes, emaciated skeleton, and a curse that aims at the heart and head. These are all the clues I have to work with. And frankly, since eyes are a very common motif in mythology and folklore — windows to the soul and all that — that alone can’t really serve as an identifying feature.
“Could it be a Tenome?” Felix leans over and shows me a bit-crushed image of a funky woodblock print. There’s a scrunched up dude with oversized eyes in his palms.
A Japanese Youkai. Although not entirely out of the question, the chances that a mythological being of the east could have somehow made it over here are astronomically small. But it would be extremely foolish to consider a zero percent chance of anything happening when magic is involved.
“I doubt it.” I scan over the information on the tiny screen. “I’m sure something like a Tenome made manifest would end up… a lot more weird than that thing. It makes too much sense. I’m willing to bet on European origins.”
If only Europe didn’t have like thirty different cultures and subsets of myths. There could be any amount of combinations — I’m not some sort of walking encyclopedia that can recite facts on demand. My memory is already bad enough as is.
My shoulders roll in an involuntary spasm as I try to regulate the pain in my system. I really didn’t expect to end up as the hunted tonight. The part of the curse that cripples my magic is laughably basic — it’s just flooding my body with chaotic noise and leaving me unable to concentrate on my spells. A wrench in the engine of Marie.
“Gods, what a bother.”
“I think we’ll be fine,” Felix says. “Hang in there.”
Without my magic, I’m more or less just an ordinary girl with personality issues. Maybe I should’ve brought the gun that was owned by that sham of a mage from the other night. Hell, a gun sounds like the greatest thing right about now. Just aim, fire, and forget — physics does the rest.
I look over at the guy on my left; this absolute god of ignorance is still doing field research as fast as his fingers allow. Even though I tried to kill him, he’s just acting like nothing happened. I misjudged this guy completely: he’s not just weird — he’s utterly incomprehensible. Some part of me wants to crack open his brainpan and sift through the contents with a stick. Even though he’s standing right beside me, he may as well exist in an entirely different dimension.
However, as I think of other things to say to Felix, my ears pick up faint ragged whispers mixing with the winds:
Einmal lebte das Leben, einmal kam der Tod. [Once life lived, once death came.]
Der Mensch wird nicht mehr wissen, nicht weniger lernen. [A man will know no more, learn no less.]
Die Erlösung lauert. Du sehest kein böse und resiest dein lahres herz ous. [Salvation lies in wait. See no evil and gouge out your empty heart.]
Curses mixed in with the incantations of Kyvler. I snap my gaze to the sound’s origin.
From the end of the hallway, fist-sized balls of light come directly at us, bouncing off the walls and ceiling and floor, leaving deep lingering scars in the air. The light is a deep, curse-filled purple; a wilting lavender that is travelling at the speed of a high velocity bullet.
There is no time to dodge — the human body simply cannot react quickly enough to dodge bullets. But magic can.
Gravity takes hold of my soul and crushes it. My circuits whine as mana leaps from them and manifests in the air around me — the barrage of shots meet my impromptu barrier and dissipate before they can reach me. It’s an extraordinary crude technique, much like trying to stop a bullet by throwing buckets of my own blood at it. But a stray shot hits Felix right in the throat. I watch his eyes go wide as he takes a single step back, falters, and collapses. The hall is suddenly drenched in darkness as the only source of light goes skidding across the floor.
I quickly debate whether I should leave this guy to his fate. The following appearance of two glowing purple eyes suspended in seemingly thin air and the rattling of dragging chains help me make my decision.
I have no reason to care about Felix. I’m not some idealistic girl who’s chomping at the bit to sacrifice herself — morals are a nonexistent thing to me. So I start backing away, slowed immensely by the backlash of using more than a fifth of my mana just to stop a few shots.
The creature, now just a writhing mass of self-luminescent chains and eyes, approaches. Two of its metal appendages twitch, then aim directly at me. It can most likely sense my mana — I switch off my circuits and take another step back.
Yet, after only five steps, I hear a strange scraping sound. I turn and see the sight of Felix staggering to his feet, an amethyst scar tied like a noose around his neck. Before I can fully comprehend how he’s still able to move, he swipes and pockets the flip phone, picks me up, and bolts. The chains launch like twin vipers — Felix takes a hard side step and the metal noisily embeds itself a foot in the concrete wall.
His movements are nimble, like a deer racing through a rugged mountain side. Or, perhaps a fox leaping between rooftops.
After three corners and one staircase of me aggressively protesting being carried around, Felix shoulders open another maintenance door and sets me down on a plastic sofa. He collapses in the adjacent seat, clutching at his stomach and neck with a pained, self-satisfied smile. That smile I absolutely hate.
If he moved like that during our fight, then he could’ve easily evaded me for much longer. I look at him questioningly, unable to look away from the curse on his throat.
“With moves like that, you could’ve just ran away by now.”
“I just want answers.” He looks at his hands, then wipes the left side of his face. “There’s… a lot of things I don’t understand. That’s why I need you.”
He’s still fixated on that. “You need a psychologist,” I mutter.
The corner of Felix’s mouth cracks in a tiny smile. “Do I look like I have the money to go to a shrink?”
It’s such a lame joke that I can’t help but smile a bit as well. But we’ve still got other things to deal with. I’ve got other things to deal with. I take a few moments of respite before pushing myself to my feet. “I guess you win, then. I’ll let you off the hook for today.” I rest my hands on my nape and regard Felix with a stare. “Most of the entrances are rigged to explode on leaving, which I guess is how that creature managed to get in here — dumb oversight, I know. But I left myself an untrapped entrance.” I point to the south, past a small gallery of plastic trees. “Entrance 7C, if you walk through the third door from the left, won’t go up in flames. If you still want something from me, meet me tomorrow.”
Tomorrow would be Wednesday, just another ordinary day. An ordinary day in the life of Marie Weiss, where she'd muck about with her friends and generally be a person that contributes nothing to society. Then she’d go back on that mundane life and spend time with her lifelong companion Erika and generally not really learn anything important there, either. She’d just be happy to spend time with her and ignore the fact that merely spending time with the eccentric girl was corrupting her body and soul. Just another ordinary day.
Felix looks like he wants to argue, but swallows his complaints. He nudges an empty glass bottle. “Are you sure you—”
“I’m sure.” Since it’s this guy, I spell it out as clearly as possible. “I want you to leave. With all the stuff I’ve got set up here, considering another person’s safety will be a liability. So go on and get outta here. I’ll deal with you after I turn this thing into mythological paste.”
His only response is just a stare — like he doesn't believe me. That’s alright, because not even I believe in myself. This is a rather shoddy situation, all things considered.
No weapons. No spells. No tools. Ammunition without a gun to use it. A curse that’ll kill me in thirty minutes. The only thing I have left is pure brute force. The chances I’d be able to win unscathed are slim.
“A creature like that isn’t very tough,” I say, already walking away. “The only reason we haven’t killed it yet is because we just haven’t tried. So don’t make me waste any more of my time.” I muster another nasty look and nod towards the untrapped entrance. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
We stare at each other for a few more awkward moments, then go our separate ways. I turn and watch him duck behind a corner. His footsteps ring like distant raindrops.
A few seconds later, the tough girl act breaks apart. I collapse against a nearby wall and sink to the ground — everything really, really, really fucking hurts. It’s hard to breathe now, and every heartbeat feels like a stabbing. My only solace is the knowledge that eliminating the creature would dispel the curse. It’s just a summoned Phantasma: they aren’t very tough, realistically speaking.
A summoned Phantasma could be comparable to a balloon. It’s just a lot of hot air wrapped in a magical layer of specially wired ether. In a normal situation, that creature stalking me would be used as a scout at best — a thing meant to run in, gather information, then perish. I bet whoever’s looking through it is having a real good chuckle at my expense.
A blurry reflection in a scattering of glass shards looks as upset as I do. The curse has crept past the neck of my witches’ garb and made it halfway up my cheekbones. I can tell that it’s trying to go for my eyes as well as my heart, and I really don’t appreciate having either of those taken from me.
But it’s really no use whining and moping in a time like this — I need a battle plan, right here, right now. I put my fist in my palm and think.
I’m no saint. I didn’t stay here because I wanted to let Felix escape — I’m staying right here because this is the best place to settle a fight. This is the only place in the nearby vicinity filled with my traps and plenty of cover. If I step outside, I’m going to get sniped by chains and curses. And tonight is a rather terrible day to die, in my humble opinion.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“...Evoke.”
I raise my arms and focus on the state of my Sigils. Although they still burn brightly on my body, I can see their true state in my mind’s eye — the curse has crippled their ability to retain mana. Same goes for the rest of me. No pure force of will can restore their capabilities. The best I can do is manually reinforce my body’s abilities by storing and circulating mana throughout — I have enough left to go for at least a few hours.
I focus for a moment and let my circuits actively leak into my body. Just like last night, everything sharpens. Senses. Fist. Thigh. Bones. Although not much compared to Fortification and Reinforcement magics, my skin now has the consistency of stone. I can run pretty fast, jump pretty high, take a few hits like this. If my circuits were actually working, I could augment myself even further. I suppose I need to come up with a proper name for this technique at some point — that’s what all proper witches do, I hear.
Since I can’t connect to the sensor network around the mall, I’m stuck keeping a manual lookout. I position by pillar underneath a convex security mirror, keeping an eye on both the maintenance doors and mall streets.
I’m still not sure what exactly the enemy is fully capable of. We’re both long ranged attackers, but I’m not sure how good I am in a real melee. I have zero traditional martial arts training; the only stuff I know is the small selection of moves and techniques beaten into me by Erika’s self defence regiment.
But at least I have my Sigil. Although they’re technically one item, two patterns on my arms connected by circuits across my back, they’re the prime source of my power. Since this is a special occasion, I pour a bit of extra energy into them — mana spills through my clothing and coats my hands and forearms in a heatless blue flame. Squeezing out whatever force I can might just be the thing that allows me to survive this night.
In a head to head battle, a single blast from my unprimed Gale or Burst spell could’ve taken it out. I suppose that’s why it waited until I was winded to attack me. The Kyvler spell it has been firing is a simple and versatile Hex originating from tribal Germanic tradition that can target any part of the body. When enough mana is put into it, the excess energy manifests and can be used for either additional curses, or physical destruction. Kyvler has become synonymous with its overloaded version, which is quite unfortunate for somebody trying to defend themselves from the spell. You’ll never know what you’ll get.
So, in short, I’ve been inflicted with a killing curse that will stop my heart and gouge out my eyes. At my current rate, I have less than half-an-hour left to live. Felix has less than that, as I’m pretty sure he has no defences against magic.
The wounds on my chest ache, but something else throbs behind it; I feel myself looking up subconsciously, searching for something in the clouded night sky.
It’s that feeling again. That something is watching. Maybe the uncanny sensation haunting me my entire life has finally come to reap my soul.
Sei Reiniget in der feur. Böse zerstert böse. Treume nicht fïr leere zukommen. [Be cleansed in the fire. Evil destroyed by evil. Dream not of empty futures.]
Dein verzodense sēl werde erlösung finden in tode. [Your stained soul will meet redemption in death.]
Freu die gerechte, verdamnte die böse. Die Fluch der Gerecktigkeit komet for dier. [Free the righteous, chain the wicked. The curse of justice comes for you.]
A whispered curse brings me back to the present. The Phantasma rounds the corner, holding its eyes towards me. It’s about fifteen meters away from me at the end of the mall street.
A single ray of moonlight falls between us. A dozen shining red stars appear around the creature.
It fires a cascade of Kyvler, purple streaks that carry death. I raise my left hand and spill another fifth of my mana in a dense mist. Both cancel out — it seems to sense this as well. Three chains animate and launch towards me like impaling spikes. But I’m already moving.
I drop to my knees in a running slide then unleash two unrefined mana bursts to give myself dodging momentum — two chain spikes whizz by my head and torso. The third comes straight towards my chest. I throw up a forearm block — flesh and metal meeting with endless reverberation — and deflect the trajectory into and through a shuttered storefront. This leaves the creature open; I clench my burned fingertips and prepare a sprinting strike. The battle tips ever so slightly in my favor.
That is, until it opens its arms wide, preparing to embrace me.
Strafe, blinde, binte. Kinder mussen aufwachsen. [Punish, blind, restrain. Children must grow up.]
I fell for its trap. It was waiting for me to get close to activate a close range spell.
Liege in der better der dorne du hast gemacht. Bezhale deine shulde. [Lie in a cradle of thorns from your own making. Repay what you owe.]
I have too much momentum — it will still catch me, even if I try to dodge sideways. I grit my teeth and aim for its head.
Es ist zeit zur bereuen. Zeit zur shlafen. Zeit zur erlosung greifen. [Time to repent. Time to sleep. Time to reach salvation.]
My fist connects with its forehead — the impact travels through the carpals and metacarpals and phalanges in my hand and up my arm to my jaw. The skull breaks and it’s forced two steps back; my hardened hand is lodged where its brain should be and I feel some greasy slimy fluid vibrating around my hand. But the arms still come down behind me, cold as death.
Eich werde dich eretten. [I will save you.]
Sheer instinct pushes me into a vicious twist. I throw a one-inch elbow and make just enough space to slip underneath its arm.
It’s not enough.
The eyes in its palm roll back up and expose pure white and bloody red veins. Then, an astonishingly bright light erupts from its body. I hear the delicate ping of fresh ice shattering and a hundred thousand needles flying through the air.
I only have enough time to cover my vitals.
Time stutters. One moment, I’m flying through the air. The next, the back of my head hits the wall at an odd angle and I’m sent skidding and tumbling across the ground, mostly blind. My body is both white hot and cold at the same time — the entire organism weeps in agony. Although I managed to protect my vitals, I’m bleeding from about a dozen dime-sized wounds throughout my body. That attack would’ve killed me instantly had I not been actively enhancing my bodily integrity.
I manage to push myself to a knee and ignore the blood trickling down the left side of my face.
This is the time to counter-attack, but my body won’t let me. It’s been whittled down enough by curses and wounds that I can barely muster the energy to stay conscious. The sudden drop in my blood pressure doesn’t help — everything is flickering in shades of black and white. The night sky is the only thing that retains its colour: an asinine shade of dark pink.
The human body is both surprisingly durable and weak at the same time. One bad knock to the back of the head and you might drop dead. Yet people survive all sorts of things. Bullets. Amputation. Lacerations. Compound fractures. Mangling. As long as the important parts aren’t damaged, survival isn’t entirely out of the question.
I’m not going to let it end like this.
My legs inherit the remainder of my strength and begin moving. The steps are slow, yet steady; each one taking me farther away from this Phantasma.
But I don’t need to look to know what it’s doing. I can hear the slow snake rattle of animated chains — it’s lining up a finishing strike.
My mind goes blank. I’m not sure what to think. Should I have a flashback? Ponder the meaning of my life? Hope that I gain some last minute power that will allow me to turn the tides? The only thing I feel as I’m staring down death is the faint sensation that there’s some part of me that’s missing. Like there’s a hole where my heart should be.
Where is my soul?
As I gaze upon the chain that’s destined to take my life, a set of footsteps break the eerie silence. They’re rushing towards me with a pained battle cry.
A little ball of flame flies over my head, streaking towards the creature, tumbling and turning mid air.
A message in a bottle.
The flaming bottle breaks against its shoulder, and in an act that almost seems magical, fire traces the path of a cloudy liquid and surrounds the creature in a shroud of violent orange flames. It twitches and opens its mouth in a soundless wail.
“Come on…!”
A familiar voice reaches me and grabs me by the wrist.
I follow it, mind completely empty, dashing through halls and taking various detours and sharp turns. My body forgets how to do anything but run. We don’t stop until we’re on the other side of the mall, huddling behind the counter of a jeweler's shop.
There’s a small nest of supplies gathered here; I remember to breathe and my legs convulse, bumping into a cliche red tank of gasoline. A droplet of ignited mana cauterizes my wounds in a flash — should be enough to prevent my bleeding out.
“I did some thinking,” Felix starts, holding a hand over one of his eyes. “Whatever’s going on with that creature’s magic is a pretty big problem.” He slowly lowers his hand — it comes away with a red smear. “I can’t really see out of my eye that well.” His left eye is entirely blotted out by a criss-cross of purple threads — he sounds amused at his own misfortune, smiling away the tears of blood.
I don’t have a good response to that. I just cross my arms and give him an unamused glare. “Are you insane?”
“Yeah, probably.” He winces, leans forward, and grabs an empty bottle. Throws it up and down a few times. “This is a curse, isn’t it? I’m pretty sure it’ll kill me soon if I don’t find a way to deal with it.”
“I’ll have to deal with you afterwards, anyways,” I state, bluntly. “Do you want to die?
“Not really. But, honestly, after suffering through this curse’s effects, I’d rather be killed by a cute girl.”
That has got to be the most pathetic thing I’ve heard all year.
Without any sort of magical defences, he’s taking the curse on the chin. Which means he’s probably slipping into pain-induced delirium. I look at him and ask, “Oi, you feeling okay?”
Felix mixes another molotov cocktail with the most innocent smile I’ve ever seen. “Never better.”
I can tell that it’s a lie — his pale forehead is coated in sweat. “You sure about that?”
“Say,” he continues, “I’ve noticed something about you. You’re terrible at being good, and awful at being bad. So how about we make a deal?”
I don’t know what he means by that, but I feel pretty insulted. “Didn’t I just say I was going to kill you?”
“Something before I die. You’re smart, right? Can you explain one potentially magic theory to me?” He raises his watch, as if the red LED numbers explain what he means. 9:24:12 PM.
He does have a point, though. Our lives are currently hanging on a single thread of fate. I’m not sure why he insists on saving my life over and over, but he’s piqued my curiosity. “Sure,” I shrug. “One small favor. Sure.” I point towards the supplies around us and cock my head. “Got a plan, then?”
“Nope.” He closes his eyes and rests his head against chipped plastic. “I’m winging it here. I really hoped that Molotov would’ve killed that thing, but I probably shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. If it barely reacted to fire, then I don’t think mustard gas or improvised explosives would work that well.”
The implication is clear: “Help me help you because I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Besides, neither of us have much of a chance on our own. If we work together, at least one of us will make it out of here. Since we don’t have much time before that thing catches up to us, I trust in your abilities that much — you seem to know what you’re doing.” He puffs out his chest and stands up. “So think of it as a temporary truce. A deal.”
Flattery and fiery oration. He must’ve been talking to Aniya and Gabriel too much and picked up on some of their tricks.
I’ve been completely outsmarted, more or less. Not that I was a genius in the first place. I sigh and push myself up, grabbing a nearby tank of gasoline for myself. “If you’re pushing all the thinking onto me, I’m not going to let you off easy.” I prod him in the shoulder and unleash a dangerous smirk. “I’ll work you like a dog.”
Felix looks down at me, tosses up and catches a box of matches, then winks. “Woof.”
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A quick analysis of Felix’s body revealed that he is dealing with the curse much worse than me, if the bleeding and blindness wasn’t already a health indicator. In fifteen minutes, the tendrils of the curse would grasp his heart and squeeze him dead. In ten minutes, he’ll lose his other eye temporarily. In eight minutes, he will be completely immobilized. For the next six minutes, assuming he can push through the pain, he should be able to function at full physical capability.
Six minutes. We have six minutes to take out a chimera of mythological creatures.
I feel like this goes without saying, but this is much easier said than done.
I spend thirty seconds explaining the plan, intent, and execution to Felix in the most condensed form possible after delivering this information:
“So,” I say, climbing to the upper floors with the aforementioned boy in tow, “I still have several trump cards hidden away. We’re going to use one of them — we’re going to collapse a section of this place on top of it.”
“And how exactly are we going to do that?” Felix says, fiddling with a box of matches.
“As I mentioned, me and Erika had a lot of time to prepare. I’m not great at advanced magecraft yet, so I just set up a few glyphs here and there.” I take up a rolled up map from my pockets and point to several places circles in bright red ink. “If I activate them in a certain order, then a good section of the mall will collapse. We’re closest to the north-west sector — let’s use those.”
“You set up shaped charges on the support beams.” Felix looks very conflicted. “That’s illegal.”
“Semantics.” I shrug and gaze out towards the empty mall — no signs of the Phantasma yet. “Most Phantasma are pretty tough — bullets usually don’t work very well — but I’m almost certain several hundred tons of crushing debris will do this one in.”
Felix follows my gaze. “So what do you want me to do?”
This is the hard sell. “I need you to keep that creature distracted and contained in a mall quadrant for two minutes while I set up all the charges.” I rub the back of my neck and force a breath through my nostrils. “Think you can handle it?”
“Regrettably, I may be a little bit unprepared.” He tries to laugh away the tension, but just ends up gagging and coughing.
I roll my eyes and place my hands on his chest. More specifically, the little bandolier he’s crafted for himself. “W-What are you doing?” he asks.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I focus for a moment and inject a dollop into the molotovs rigged to each slot. “This should let your fire bombs do a little bit of damage. This’ll really catch its attention.”
There are many techniques to actually enchant items, but I know absolutely none of them. The best I can do is shove a bit of mana into the gasoline and hope it sticks around for long enough to use — the liquid within starts emitting a faint blue light. Although most items in the world are capable of storing mana, something abandoned and forgotten like old gasoline won’t hold much.
He looks down at the glowing molotovs on his chest, then gives a thumbs up. “Let’s give it a go.” He raises his scratched flip phone with my number on it. “Keep in touch?” he asks.
“Call me if you need anything.” I figure this is what cellphones are meant for — made to be used while coordinating the destruction of a supernatural creature. I’m sure that would make a fine tagline for a marketing campaign to the older fashioned witches and wizards. I dig my phone out of my pocket, wave, then run between levels to the ground. No time to waste. I have a lot of ground to cover.
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Felix has more or less forgotten about the whole time abnormality thing. He has many, many, many other things to worry about. Namely, not dying.
He watches Marie disappear into an old department store, then figures he should really get moving himself. The northwest sector is calling his name — he runs over there while making as much noise as possible.
All in all, he’s really impressed himself with how well he’s handling this situation. Withdrawing the calliper from his coat, he meditates on the etched numbers.
The instructions were clear enough. Survive for three minutes, trap the creature, and escape before the debris turns him into a pancake. To execute this plan, he has a thinly veiled yet extremely unconventional melee weapon, three fire bombs, a box of matches, and an IR gun. That last one doesn’t even do anything useful in a situation like this. He’s not going to be able to throw that well without any depth perception, either.
Execution is always much harder than planning. Felix does know who he is, nor does he know his own capabilities. If he has what it takes to make it through the night, then some fragment of his self will reveal itself now. He steadies his breath and waits.
The creature approaches from the southern street, floating two stories off the ground. Chains and loose tatters of clothes float and writhe in the air like tentacles that have broken free of all natural forces. The eyes in its palm twitch erratically, then lock onto him.
9:28:14 PM.
Felix braces against the calliper, his mathematical bludgeon, and grits his teeth. If only he could settle this with a twenty-sided die.
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The so called ‘shaped charges’ I had set up could be easily confused as graffiti. They’re clock sized glyphs etched into the various support beams inside the mall’s innards. The only thing that sets them apart is the fact that they’re glowing a deep blue.
I run through the labyrinth of steel girders and dark tunnels, smashing my fist into each trigger.
The theory behind this spell is extraordinarily simple. Instead of doing anything fanciful like rotting the pillars, inverting their integrity, transmuting the metal and concrete into dirt, or creating automata that could smash on my behalf, I just blow it up. That’s it. A simple ignition hex combined with a shatter pattern will just cause the pillars to explode. I’m sure a proper mage would want my head for using magic in such a perverse and brute manner, but I’m not exactly an elegant person.
The walls shake as I ignite the third glyph — my pre-scribed spell activates and sends a dismantling pulse throughout the entire scaffolding keeping this place up. In a few minutes, this entire place will come tumbling down.
I can only hope that dumb doe-eyed kid can hold out for long enough to escape.
----------------------------------------
The first attack is that same twin eye beam that initially crippled Marie — Felix forces his body to duck and roll. The world tilts as he barely tumbles out of the way past the rays; concentrated death grazes by his shoulder. It follows up with a volley of launched chains. Felix keeps moving, running up to the second floor, and manages to dodge most of them — the last one comes at his face. He swings the caliper upwards and deflects it into the ceiling.
He was not sitting idly as Marie put in her part to their survival. His mind has been running this entire time; simulating, calculating, plotting. He didn’t want to confound Marie with unconfirmed information, but he has a general idea of what he’s fighting.
The enemy is a long-ranged type that has slow reactions and low intelligence — it’s always aiming where they were, not where they will be. The chains and rays, although intimidating, are quite slow. They travel at the approximate speed of a hurtling football: difficult, but not impossible to dodge.
He’s confirmed at least a few of the creatures combined into the chimera. The key was the language — he didn’t quite understand until he heard it hurling curses at Marie.
It was speaking in Old High German, a predecessor to the modern german language. This significantly reduced the pool of creatures when intersected with the creatures that have affinity with the eye, even further when accounting for the other motifs of the summoned creature.
One part is the Sandman, a creature that puts people to sleep and forces dreams with magical sand. This iteration is obviously a corruption of some sort — there are other more horrifying versions of the same story that describe children who have their eyeballs taken if they refuse to sleep. The chains seem to be taken from the legend of Krampus: Santa Claus's demonic counterpart that chained, bagged, and dragged away naughty kids. This in particular makes him redoubt the nonexistence of Santa Claus, but he shelves the thought.
All together, mixed in with a few unknown variables, creates a sort of ‘nightmare’ creature. Like a mixed summon. And because none of the creatures were known for battling great heroes, their combat ability is relatively low. Interesting.
This analysis, however, was conducted in the vacuum of his mind. In reality, staying alive is much more difficult — there’s just so many factors he didn’t account for. It’s floating, meaning he can’t get a melee strike in. As he’s circling around on the second floor, he lights and lobs a molotov — whatever Marie did causes this one to streak like a shooting star. The bomb explodes against its leg — Felix hit was off-mark — and blood red flames begin eating away at its pale flesh.
However, all this seems to accomplish is piss it off. Lucidity and hatred are injected into its gaze: the creature is most certainly concentrating on Felix now. It turns, burning like a witch’s pyre, then charges towards him with bared claws. Felix takes a step back and prepares an upwards strike.
Something snaps before they can meet each other — both of them look up to a roof girder breaking off and falling towards them. Felix’s legs move on their own and carry him on a collapsed path to the ground level. The creature, now enraged, catches up with ease. He’s forced to flail around his caliper to deflect the wildly aimed chains — is distracted and fails to see the debrief in front of him. His shin hits a rock at an odd angle and pain explodes as he tumbles across the ground. Then, back trembling, he forces himself upright.
The creature leers at him from above, right leg charred to bone that’s magically connected to itself. Its appendages are just flailing around wildly, tearing apart anything that comes near — Felix can’t even get close anymore. Burning rot and powdered steel smell.
His hand gropes for his flip phone as he turns and runs. He can’t keep this up for much longer.
----------------------------------------
My phone buzzes as I reach the fifth glyph. I snap it to my ear and drive my fist into the trigger, detonating more support beams.
“Marie — can’t do this and collapsing — following me — can’t hold it off—”
Felix’s voice is distorted, interrupted by concrete-shredding impacts and desperate breaths.
My run slows to a jog as I shout back. “There’s only two charges left! Can you keep it distracted for one more minute?”
“Strong — fire not working — hold on—” Something crunches.
“Felix!?”
The line cuts to an almost mocking dial tone. I lower my phone and stare at the blinking CALL ENDED. I feel my heart stutter; half from the curse, half from my thoughts.
Turning back time and undoing the destruction of the mall is impossible — I’ve taken out enough supports and integral structures to guarantee its collapse. If I blow the last two glyphs, then the entire quadrant will come crashing down in a matter of seconds. There will be nothing left. All my problems will be taken care of.
If I ran back there, then I’d be trapped in a crumbling prison. We’d all end up dying with our bodies crushed to red and bone paste — I’m sure that would be a fine result for whoever is controlling the Phantasma.
...Right. I’d almost forgotten. The rush of confusing events and following skirmishes allowed me no time to think about the bigger picture.
Just like the other night, this was a mere scouting mission for my enemies. That Phantasma is nothing more than a puppet willing to die for its master. What was I doing on the defensive? I was running myself ragged worrying about extraneous details. I’m not a cold and calculating person — my strengths lie elsewhere. And right now, my gut is telling me that Felix has probably weakened the creature enough for me to face it head on. If I don’t blow that kid’s brains out with my own two hands, my ego won’t let me live it down for the rest of my life.
Quietly, I curse myself for my lack of resolve. In many ways, I’ve already been defeated tonight. I’m going to claw out one victory, no matter what.
The mana circulating through my veins intensifies as I push my circuits to bleed more — I smash the sixth glyph and use the impact to adjust my course towards the main street.
The roof and walls crumble and cough up a cloud of dust. An overdue structural death rattle. Pieces of the hall fall away like a broken jigsaw puzzle; I push my body between the gaps in a forced sprint. My hexes travel faster than me, sending a caustic snake of charged mana through the northwest quadrant.
The second floor is already collapsed by the time I get to it. I leap between collapsing sections and zero in on the only magical signature that isn’t mine.
Between cragged cliffs of broken civilization, a Phantasma of chain, eyes, and curse — a beast beyond the world of humanity — levitates several feet off the ground. It attacks relentlessly, cursing and howling into the winds, tearing up everything around in a wanton rampage. Opposing it is a single normal boy with no particular talents or skills. He still stands, bleeding from several grazing wounds spread across his limber frame, somehow having avoided a lethal blow despite being half-blind and inflicted with a heart-and-eye-crushing curse. A caliper, bearing no visible enchantments, is being wielded like a sword straight out of myth.
That boy blurs the line between bravery and stupidity, selflessness and greed. I’m still not sure exactly what he’s after. How could I let somebody like that outdo me?
I’ll pay back this damned Phantasma with everything I’ve got.
My charge takes me on a course near Felix — both combatants look at me as I interrupt their duel. The Phantasma almost seems happy to see its main target. It immediately loses focus in Felix and snaps all of its weapons towards me. Ten metres.
Slide. Roll. Deflect. Chains recoil, adjusting their trajectory. Six metres.
Five full-power curses launch towards me. I kick against the floor. Pain grazes my thigh, shoulder, left forearm — but they’re only grazes. There are only three metres left.
Keine seele ist auser erlösung. Deise kette verde dich erreichen, egal wo du reist. [No soul is beyond redemption. These chains will reach you, no matter where you run.]
Eich werde dich eretten. Eich werde dich eretten. Eich werde dich eretten. [I will save you. I will save you. I will save you!]
A final cursed incantation ebbs away at my soul.
But I’m not somebody who will fall for the same trick twice. Once more, its claws come from above. Not enough space for decisive strike. Two seconds to create space.
Mana swells in my fists. Left jab, early right hook — turn the momentum into a twisting side kick. My left heel strikes and fractures bone. One step back.
Whistling from behind — the caliper smashes into the Phantasma’s jaw. Two steps back. Claws rake the air in front of me.
I flood my knee with mana and drive it directly into the creature’s chin. Physics wavers: the mana is transferred directly into kinetic energy and applied to the fulcrum point. Neck crunches and impossible winds — the strike sends the Phantasma flying back. It goes skidding across the ground, chains rattling, smashing into a pile of mid-street debris. A sizable block of concrete then promptly lands on its torso and quashes it flat.
Die Erlösung lauert. —Erlösung lauert. Die —sung lau— [Salvation lies in wait. Redemption — The End—]
Desperately, like a trapped animal, it claws at the rubble, sputtering curses and guttural animal noises. The fading purple eyes in its palm look at me, twitch, then lose focus. We managed to fracture its manifestation — the curse loosens its grip and fades away. For a few moments, I watch the creature’s outline fading to spectral fragments of white.
“Salvation?” I snarl, turning away from the thing. “Save yourself first.”
A chunk of rubble smashes into a nearby bench and pulls me away from all the spiteful words I have for this creature. It’s a good reminder that I’m still in the middle of a collapsing building.
I grab the misused caliper and run. Felix had the foresight to start running without me; I catch up to him in four strides with my now-encumbered body. Everything seems to move in slow motion — I am the hare, and Felix is the narcoleptic tortoise. Even the collapsing building is merely a dusting of falling leaves.
Ahead of us, the roof is caving in at the edge of the stable zone. It’s already halfway down to the ground.
“We’re not going to make it…!” Felix says in a long, droning buzz.
It was only half an hour of relative powerlessness, but I’m reminded of just how much not having magic sucks. After freeing my circuits, I feel like a girl who’s just taken a fresh shower and put on a new pair of fluffy socks after walking around in waterlogged concrete bots. I’m basically fucking invincible.
I raise both of my hands and channel one of my favorite spells — the glyphs around my wrists overlap and combine into a single wide barrel. The trigger is the pull of gravity: my mind forces mana through the reawakened circuits and projects it outwards.
“Prime, Combine, Realign… Twinned Gate: Gale!”
The air in front of me crackles with electric blue light, then erupts. A solid arrow of twisting kinetic force blows a hole straight through the barrier, leaving nothing in its path — we race through the clouds of debris and skid to a stop in long-awaited safety.
Behind us, the northwest quadrant of the Centurion Mall collapses into a pile of rubble. The now open walls reveal roiling black clouds and black waters and distant thunder.
We made it. The nightmare is finally over. I collapse against a nearby wall, chuckling and sighing in relief. Ears are ringing. Ozone, powered stone, and burnt blood fill my nostrils — I wipe my nose and look over.
Felix on the ground, completely splayed out on his back. He’s also several magnitudes of torn up and bloodied — only suffered a few papercuts compared to me. I clear my throat and look away.
“Oi. Still alive?”
“Unfortunately,” Felix says. He closes his eyes and rests a hand on his forehead.
I sigh. I don’t think I have the energy left over to deal with this guy — it’s been a very long night.
“Now would be a really good time to kill me,” he says, glancing at his watch. “I don’t think I’m moving for a while.”
“If I really, really, really want to kill you, I would’ve done it by now. Idiot. Dumbass.”
“...You’re really not nice, are you?”
I still have his caliper in hand. I toss it back and we stay there for a while, watching the last pieces of rubble fall and faceplant. I look over and rest my chin on my fist. “You still want that explanation on magic?”
“Maybe later.”
“You know, you won’t be able to extend your life with rain cheques like this.”
Felix places his hands on his chest and clicks his tongue. “Drat.”
This was my first real battle. Can’t say I expected it to go as I wanted in the slightest. I take my earlier statement back — next time, I’m just going to fire off my biggest spell at the start of a duel and call it a life. Just thinking about doing something like this again makes me tired.
“Alright. You did help me out, so you get one.” I hop to my feet and start meandering towards the entrance. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
Felix pushes himself up to a sitting position and nods. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow.”
After all the fighting, the night had finally calmed. The ocean yawns, lapping away at the base of the mall.
“Gonna lay here for a bit,” says Felix.
I absentmindedly nod and wave goodbye. “Sure.”
I suppose I didn’t really know Felix. I don’t know if he knows himself, either. But for just tonight, I suppose we reached some sort of understanding. We had both encountered the unknown and came out on top.
I close my eyes and rest my hands on my nape. I’m going to have to do a lot of thinking on how to explain this one.
“Are you sure about that, Marie? Do you need another reminder?”
As though reading my thoughts, a voice echoes through the halls. It is a gentle and warm song, yet cold as winter’s first bite. I turn.
The shadows take form and coalesce at the top of the rubble pile — the elegant figure of woman out of time leers down at us. She bears a killing smile and dangerous eyes.
Unbridled terror courses through my body and causes my legs to tremble. It’s not just some emotional reaction — some primal part of my brain knows that something is wrong. Compared to the Phantasma we just defeated, she is just on another level. Most days, she conceals her presence and does a very good job of pretending to be human.
But not tonight. I can feel every single shadow around me starting to animate — as though the night itself just gained sentience.
“...Erika.” Her name spills itself from my lips like bile.
To that, the woman makes a cackle that isn’t a cackle and smiles wider than any human ever should. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
The nightmare is not yet over.
Or perhaps it would be better to say that it has just begun.