Mike and Altheack left Altheack’s nature-filled apartment just before dawn. The apartment, a sanctuary of plants, pets, and tranquility, felt like a distant memory as they navigated the city’s shadowy back alleys. They wore masks and carried changes of clothes in their backpacks, their movements careful and deliberate to avoid any surveillance.

At the outskirts of the city, they reached a desolate road and waited. Mike glanced around nervously, hoping for a vehicle to pass by soon.

"We could be here a while," Altheack said, trying to keep the mood light.

"Maybe you should show some leg. That usually gets a ride," Mike joked, smirking behind his mask.

Altheack grinned, lifting her skirt slightly to reveal a bit of her leg. "Like this?" she teased, her voice playful.

Mike's face turned a shade of crimson, and he stammered, "I-I was kidding, you know."

Altheack laughed, the sound brightening the tense atmosphere. "Relax, Mike. I know."

Sure enough, a few minutes later, an old pickup truck pulled up. The driver, an elderly man with a kind but weathered face, leaned out the window. "Need a ride?" he asked.

"Yeah, if you don't mind," Mike replied, still a bit flustered. They climbed into the back of the truck, settling down among old tools and bags of feed. The journey was quiet, the roar of the engine and the wind rushing past their ears. They exchanged occasional glances, silently communicating their shared anxiety.

When the truck pulled over at a rest stop, they hopped out, thanking the driver briefly before disappearing into the rest area’s restroom.

"Let's change," Altheack whispered. They entered separate stalls and switched into different clothes, hoping to throw off anyone tracking their movements. Emerging with new outfits and fresh masks, they quickly left the rest stop, blending into the sparse morning crowd.

They made their way towards the town's edge, where a dense forest awaited. Slipping into the cover of the trees, they moved quietly and swiftly, the sounds of civilization fading behind them.

"We need to be careful," Mike whispered, "The library isn't far, but we can't afford to be seen."

Altheack nodded, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. They trekked through the underbrush for what felt like half an hour, the thick foliage obscuring their path from any potential cameras. Each step was careful and measured, the forest's natural sounds masking their presence. As they reached the outskirts of the town, they paused to catch their breath, hidden from view.

"We’re almost there," Altheack said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Stay close and keep your head down."

Mike nodded, adjusting his mask as they moved towards the small town library, the quiet streets still empty in the early morning light.

They slipped into the library through a side entrance, the musty smell of old books greeting them. The librarian gave them a curious glance but said nothing as they quickly moved to the back of the building.

"Let's split up. Cover more ground," Altheack suggested. Mike nodded, and they each grabbed a stack of books, settling at separate tables. Hours passed as they poured over texts on demonology, ancient rituals, and historical accounts of demonic pacts, but the old books offered little new information.

Frustration began to set in. "Nothing useful here," Mike muttered, closing another dusty tome.

Altheack sighed, shaking her head. "None of these books are accurate from what I remember of Caldera. It's not even outdated—Earth never had real magic as far as I can tell."

Mike leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "I've spent years studying magic on Earth, and everything I found was bullshit or made up. This stuff is no different," he said, comparing it to the genuine knowledge he remembered from his past life.

Altheack nodded, understanding his frustration. "So, what's the plan?"

Mike stood up with a determined look in his eyes. "It's time to tell the world the truth, or as much as we know. We need to go digital. Reddit, Facebook—whatever it takes to reach people."

They moved to a secluded corner where Mike found a computer terminal and booted it up, using a secure VPN to mask their location. He began typing furiously, drafting a detailed warning and instructions on various forums and social media platforms. "People need to know how to fight these things," he muttered to himself, hitting 'post' and watching as the information spread slowly at first.

Meanwhile, Altheack kept an eye on their surroundings, ensuring they weren't drawing any unwanted attention. "Anything?" she asked, glancing at Mike's screen.

"Not much traction yet," Mike replied, his tone edged with disappointment. However, as the minutes ticked by, notifications began to trickle in. At first, it was a slow stream of comments, shares, and questions that started to flood the post. "Wait, it’s picking up. Look at this," Mike said, excitement creeping into his voice.

Initially, Mike responded politely to comments, earnest in his desire to inform and help. But the tone online quickly shifted; skepticism and ridicule began to dominate the responses. "You're just fearmongering!" one comment read. "Total BS, just a troll looking for attention," said another. Feeling his efforts were being mocked, a familiar irritation flared up within Mike. The restraint he'd been practicing gave way to a resurgence of his older, more confrontational self.

"Seriously? You idiots wouldn't know a real threat if it fucked your mom and slapped you with the condom, you clueless fuckwits!" Mike snapped back, his fingers clacking aggressively on the keyboard. The insults and curse words flew from his fingers as he reverted to his old ways of handling conflicts. "Wake up and stop being so damn naive!" he retorted, his responses growing harsher with each exchange.

Altheack, catching the shift in Mike's demeanor, glanced over with concern. "Mike, maybe take it easy—"

"No, they need to hear this, the hard way if necessary," Mike interrupted, his eyes fixed on the screen. His aggressive engagement turned the tide, sparking outrage and heated debates across the platform. Despite the negative backlash, it brought unprecedented attention to his post. As the online arguments grew, so did the views and shares, propelling his warning to wider visibility.

Each insult seemed to ignite another wave of interaction. The anger and shock generated by his words made people read more carefully, share more quickly, and react more intensely. Mike could see the numbers climbing, the reach of their message expanding exponentially. Even as he continued typing, a small part of him acknowledged Altheack's concern, but he couldn't stop. They needed to be heard.

"These people don't understand subtlety," Mike muttered, almost to himself. "They need a wake-up call."

Altheack sighed, recognizing the stubborn determination in Mike's voice. "Just don't lose yourself in this," she murmured, her voice soft but edged with worry.

Mike paused for a moment, looking at her. The concern in her eyes cut through his anger, if only briefly. "I won't," he promised, his voice softer. "But we have to do whatever it takes."

He returned to the screen, his focus sharpened. Each keystroke was a calculated risk, every insult a tactical decision to draw more eyes to their cause. The debate raged on, a storm of digital chaos, but amid the fury, their message spread.

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The uproar was not what Mike had initially intended, but it served its purpose, spreading his critical message far more effectively than his initial attempts. Despite the contentious path, his post was now at the forefront of the online community's attention, drawing more serious consideration from those concerned enough to look past the drama.

Within an hour, several thousand people had engaged with the post. The response was overwhelming. "We’ve got their attention. Now we need to move," Altheack said, her tone urgent.

"Agreed," Mike said, shutting down the computer. They reconvened near the exit, glancing around to ensure they hadn't drawn attention.

"We can’t leave the same way we came. It’s too risky," Altheack noted, her eyes scanning the library for another exit.

"Back door?" Mike suggested, nodding toward an emergency exit.

"Let’s go," Altheack agreed.

They took a cautious route out of the library, slipping through the back door and into a narrow alley. The streets were busier now, the cover of darkness beginning to fade. "No sign of trouble. Let's head back the way we came," Altheack noted, her eyes darting around nervously.

"Stay close," Mike whispered, guiding her towards the edge of town where the forest awaited. They moved swiftly, the dense foliage soon enveloping them once more, concealing their escape.

As they made their way through the woods, the weight of their actions began to sink in. "We've stirred the hornet's nest. The government will be all over this," Mike said, his voice tense.

"We need to stay ahead of them. We can't let our guard down," Altheack replied, her determination clear despite the fear in her eyes.

They continued deeper into the forest, hoping the trees would provide the cover they needed to stay hidden from prying eyes. The thought of returning to the sanctuary of Altheack's apartment felt like a distant dream as they navigated the dense woods, every step bringing them closer to an uncertain future.

Suddenly, a rustling sound surrounded them. Hooded figures emerged from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with malice. "We've been waiting for you," one of them hissed.

Mike and Altheack froze, their hearts pounding. "Who are you?" Mike demanded, stepping protectively in front of Altheack.

A sinister chuckle echoed through the trees as one of the cultists stepped forward. "No need for introductions," the figure sneered. "You’re coming with us."

Before Mike could react, two cultists slipped silently from behind him, swiftly grabbing Altheack. "Gabah!" she cried, casting a spell that summoned birds from the foliage. They swooped down, pecking at the cultists’ eyes, allowing her to momentarily break free.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Altheack began another incantation, "Jgoas," trying to summon vines from the earth. The vines shot up, ensnaring the legs of her assailants. However, the cultists' fire magic was quick to respond, burning away the vines before they could fully restrain them.

As the flames consumed her efforts, Mike, seeing Altheack in danger again, yanked a kitchen knife from his backpack. The blade burst into purple flames, mirroring his rising fury. "Mike, watch out!" Altheack screamed as a cultist advanced on him from behind.

The fight quickly turned brutal. Mike's actions were desperate and ferocious, a reflection of his former self resurfacing with every vicious slash and parry. He felled three men, his blade slicing deeply, driven by a potent mix of fear and fury. The whispers of Anna Sha crept into his ear, venomous and urging, "Kill them all."

His first target let out a blood-curdling scream as the knife gutted him, the flames cooking his insides even as they spilled out. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, mingling with the screams of the dying man. Laughing maniacally, Mike pulled the knife free, blood splattering across his face. "Die, cunt, die!" he roared, plunging the knife into another cultist’s eye, the blade carving through bone and tissue with a sickening squelch. Half the man's face melted away under the searing heat, his body convulsing as he collapsed.

A cultist with a baton swung at Mike, the blow connecting with a sickening crunch. Pain exploded in his arm as the bone snapped, but rage and adrenaline kept him moving. With his good arm, he slashed the knife across the man's throat, a geyser of blood erupting as the blade cut deep. The cultist gurgled, dropping to his knees before crumpling to the ground, lifeless.

Mike's fury was all-consuming, his laughter echoing through the forest as he tore through the cultists. But his relentless advance was taking its toll on the makeshift weapon. The blade began to warp and crack under the strain of the magical flames.

Amidst the chaos, a cultist grabbed Altheack from behind, pressing a knife to her throat. A trickle of blood stained her neck, causing Mike’s rage to spike. "Let her go, motherfucker!" he roared, advancing despite the danger. The sight of her blood was a stark reminder of what he stood to lose.

"Mike, run! Leave me!" Altheack pleaded, but Mike’s vision was red with fury. He charged, the failing knife still clutched tightly in his hand. He managed to gut another cultist, but his weapon finally shattered, the blade breaking into useless shards.

Desperation surged through Mike as he saw the cultist move the knife closer to Altheack. Summoning the last of his strength, he hurled the broken knife. The blade embedded itself in the cultist's throat, blood spurting as the man crumpled to the ground. Weaponless and fueled by raw rage, Mike launched himself at the remaining cultists.

With his one good arm and his legs, Mike fought like a wild beast. He kicked, punched, and even bit, each move driven by a primal need to protect Altheack. Bones cracked under his relentless assault, his roars of fury echoing through the forest. But the cultists' numbers were overwhelming, and they began to beat him down, their blows raining upon him until he was barely conscious. Yet he still stood, the remaining cultists wary of getting too close. One stabbed him in the back with a blade, only for Mike to roundhouse kick the man, sending him flying before Mike fell to one knee.

"Stop, please! You're going to kill him!" Altheack's scream pierced the haze of pain and rage. Another cultist had grabbed her by the hair, a knife cutting into her skin and causing her to cry out in pain. The sight of her blood and her cry of pain brought Mike to a halt, a thin line of blood trickling down her face where the cultist had started to carve her up. Altheack's screams turned into unintelligible cries of agony.

"Give it up, you fucking monster," the cultist cutting Altheack demanded.

"Fuck you! Get your fucking hands off of her!" Mike roared.

"Then surrender!" the man countered.

Mike took in the situation, his rage still boiling but tempered by the realization of his helplessness. He knew he couldn't save her. "I give up," he spat, his voice thick with defeat and fury. "Just don't hurt her."

As Mike surrendered, both he and Altheack were quickly handcuffed, their wounds ignored until they were secure. The cultists' grips were firm and unyielding, ensuring neither could escape.

As the forest fell silent, a woman stepped out from the shadows, her presence commanding. She was a Japanese girl around their age, her expression cold and calculating as she surveyed the scene.

"Good work," she said to the cultists, her voice cold and authoritative. She turned to Mike and Altheack, her eyes piercing. "You’ve made quite a stir online. We can’t have that, now can we?"

"Who the hell are you?" Mike demanded, his voice shaking with residual anger.

The woman’s gaze was icy as she replied, "I am Riko Tanaka. You’ll find out more soon enough." She signaled for the cultists to move.

A sack was thrown over Mike’s head, plunging him into darkness. He heard Altheack’s muffled protests as she was similarly blinded. They were led deeper into the woods, stumbling over roots and rocks, unable to see their captors or their surroundings.

"Fuck you, assholes!" Mike spat, struggling against the firm grips guiding him. The whispers of Anna Sha grew louder in his mind, urging him to unleash his fury.

As they were guided through the forest, Riko’s voice cut through the darkness. "Welcome to the Death Tooth cult. You’ll find we can be quite hospitable... as long as you cooperate."

"Fuck your hospitality," Mike growled, his anger boiling over. "You’re all a bunch of cunts!"

Riko chuckled softly, her voice cold. "You’ve got quite the mouth on you," she remarked. "Let's see if we can calm you down a bit." She stepped closer to Mike and Altheack, murmuring a few words under her breath, "Fash mor va."

A soft, warm light enveloped them both, and Mike felt a strange sensation. The pain from his wounds dulled, and the aches in his body eased slightly. Riko was using a mild healing spell, just enough to make them more comfortable but not enough to restore their strength fully. Mike felt bones snap into place and wounds close, the discomfort replaced by a lingering soreness.

"See? We’re not all bad," Riko said with a smirk. "Now, let’s keep moving."

Mike growled at her, his rage momentarily tempered by the unexpected kindness. "Don't think this changes shit," he muttered, his voice still seething with anger.

The cultists continued to guide them through the forest. Mike’s mind raced, the whispers of Anna Sha still echoing in his head, urging him to fight, to kill. But he pushed them down, focusing on Altheack’s footsteps.

Finally, they were pushed into a van, the doors closing with a metallic thud. The engine roared to life, and they began to move. The whispers in Mike’s head grew louder, but Altheack’s bound hand found his again, and he began to calm, his breathing slowing as the whispers receded.

Mike and Altheack's bound hands found each other in the darkness, their fingers intertwining in a desperate grasp. Despite the fear coursing through them, they squeezed each other's hands, drawing strength from their shared resolve. They didn’t know what awaited them, but they knew they had to stay strong—for each other.

"Just stay calm, Mike," Altheack whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.

Mike squeezed her hand, the anger simmering down but not fully gone. "I won’t let them hurt you again," he promised, his voice a low growl.

The van drove off, the engine’s hum and the occasional murmur from the cultists the only sounds in the confined space. Mike’s heart pounded, the uncertainty of what was to come gnawing at him. But with Altheack by his side, he knew they had a fighting chance.

As the van rumbled through the forest, Mike and Altheack held on to each other, drawing strength from their connection. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.