Viktor wanted to cut this existential crap, but he gazed at the area around the park from the height of the wheel. There was indeed nothing. Absolute NOTHING—just a spotless void. It gave him more creeps than he’d got inside the helicopter simulation. Shadow spoke in his soft, ingratiating voice:
“These illusions… the most undercover fears and crushed dreams, the extinct fire of hopes and the fresh wounds of bygone times… this cursed child sees us through and knows all our secrets. It wants us to face our pain.”
“But you haven’t surrendered… or kinda have?”
“I am immune to my past, as I’ve come to terms with it. With the anguish and abasement, with the injustice and betrayal that can break even the most generous heart. I was a puppet, yet I still believed I was the reason for other people’s sufferings.”
“Yeah, this is terrible but—”
“Do you know why this cursed child has chosen the Ferris wheel for me? Isolation. The higher you go, the more things you can observe. You don’t focus on smaller details, but the whole picture displays itself in front of you. I’ve realized a lot while being here. I am… we are all so distant to each other. A man is alone. Always alone.”
A glimpse of tears was visible in Shadow’s eyes as he continued:
“Alex… his name was Alex. But it’s in the past now. I’ve done everything I could, and I can’t let my guilt devour me alive. Finally the things have come to the way they should be. Here I finally see the unavoidable loneliness of every person in the world, so there is no point in fighting… I feel… relaxed. I want to stay here and enjoy the harmony which had been stolen from me many years ago.”
“So…” Viktor was lost somewhere in the middle of his speech. “You’re not coming?”
Shadow smiled warmly at the Amber. “Yes, exactly.”
“Uuuuurgh, you healers are stubborn as hell!” Viktor snorted and scooped Shadow over his shoulder, then leaped from the capsule before he had time to object.
The wheel, as if obeying some mysterious command, began to spin ten times faster. Viktor made it to the drive rim below and slided down, then he grabbed the beam, spun around, and both of the mages landed on the roof of the lower cabin. The Amber waited until it was as close to the ground as possible and touched down on the platform with exit stairs. The wheel calmed down immediately.
“Can you walk?” The strong man set Shadow on his feet—the latter staggered, and Izumi ran up to support him. “Guys, he’s rambling. Better to look after him. Nothing says ‘wipe’ like a healer in the group going crazy.”
“Shadow-san?”
“I… seems like I’ve succumbed to some cursed delusions... ” The Celestial straightened up as his slightly blurred mind began to clear. “I guess it’s alright now. Thanks, Viktor.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Are you sure?” Hitomi asked.
“If you can be sure in anything at all in a place like this…” Shadow flicked back his long hair and looked around. “By the by, I feel like we had more people at the start of our journey.”
“Three are still missing. Shame I can’t send my spirits to search for them…”
“Did you guys mention a funhouse and mirrors? I see something like that on the area map.” Viktor pointed at the board nearby where a hand-drawn picture represented the layout of the theme park.
“‘World of Illusions,’” the investigator said, reading the headline.
“My Goddess, how romantic and precise,” Shadow grunted.
“Like a low-level dungeon.” Hitomi rolled her eyes and set off in the indicated direction. The rest followed her while the Celestial was casting empowering spells on the go.
The house in question was not very far away—and appeared to be a small circus tent in black and white stripes with violet magic crawling out all around it.
“This is bad.” Viktor shook his head. “The magic is so freaking cursed, ugh. The twins might be there, right?”
“I… I would suggest that the emotions they are experiencing are running too high…” Izumi scowled with remorse.
“Should we all go together?”
“This is not the best idea, Hitomi. All rides here establish their own illusionary worlds within the whole system. If there are indeed mirrors which represent the psyche, it will be impossible to take the captive out by force. Not to sound too arrogant, but I am afraid that it is only me who can withstand the mental magic of that sort.”
“But I have won over my own illusion too!” Shadow exclaimed and, when everybody glanced at him in disbelief, added modestly. “Well, with a few nuances, of course…”
“It is decided. I am going alone.”
“May the Light guide you, Takeshi.”
Hitomi’s voice encouraged him a bit. He smiled with a corner of his mouth, adjusted his glasses, and moved inside the marquee.
The investigator grimaced at the heavy rumble in his head and imagined rather than actually saw the world recreated by the illusion. Cracks were running along it with shards reflecting the snow-white walls, splattered with thick purple spots. Izumi concentrated and realized that it was the Academy’s lab, distorted in dozens of spaces and dimensions. There was a draft, yet the door was closed. Blood from overturned test tubes was dripping down the colorless desks. There was nothing behind the windows but the same viscous milky emptiness.
A stifled female scream came from behind the door. In his mind, Izumi approached it and grabbed the handle—then ended up inside the exact same room. He repeated the process, but it happened again. And again. Each time, more and more blood filled the office, and the girl’s shriek was more distinct.
“I don’t understand…” the investigator tried hard to keep up his defenses against harsh mental intrusions. “Why the Academy, not the MedCorps? Elia has never studied there. Perhaps it is my mind that is projecting its own concepts into the foreign illusion? Whose memory is it?”
Izumi felt like he was losing his mind. A little more, and he would give in to this distorted magic, no matter how much he resisted. Upon entering and leaving the same room, the investigator understood that this cycle must be broken. Thoughts were running like impulses in his head: forward, left, forward, right, forward, point, forward, point, left.
Following his distraught intuition, the mage picked up a splinter of a mirror and cut the palm of his left hand. Reddish blood, so bright against the background of universal whiteness, streamed from the wound.
Suddenly, the screams outside the enchanted door stopped. The dulled tinnitus in Izumi’s head changed to a high-frequency ringing. He grimaced and, after opening his eyes, saw a girl approaching. Horror immobilized him.
Moku? No, this was not her.
Deadly pale skin, snow-white hair—and wild eyes with thin trails of violet blood trickling from its corners to the chin.
There was no doubt she wanted to kill him.
At the last moment, he lunged toward her—and a bloody shard flashed in his hand.