Chapter 171 - Malevolent
While keeping an eye on the captive in his room through his perception, Vern moved to a room far away from each and every one of the raiders. This way, even if they realized something was wrong, it would be a while before they could get to him.
The way things stood, the hotel was essentially in his full control. These people weren't even trying to manipulate the structure. After all, their shade sequence had nothing to do with it, and even if they wanted to, he doubted their measly insight into the matter would allow them to wrest away the subjective ownership of structure from him.
He wasn't just some ordinary observer with control over structure. He probably understood it deeper than most others in lower three shades. I mean, there's still a possibility that I can't control some things, but I can't be sure unless I give it a shot.
There was a lot one could do besides toppling over entire walls or ceilings to do harm, especially when the targets were not exactly the agile kind.
Nodding, he closed the door of the maintenance room on the third floor, which was directly connected to the staircase in the middle of the corridor. Not just that, it had another internal set of stairs going up all the way to the terrace in case he needed an escape.
Finding a random chair, he settled down and closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the three-dimensional image of the hotel in his perception.
Having lost the track of the figures that represented these brainwashers during the illusion, it took him a bit to mark them back in the sea of moving figures represented by an outline of dark instability in stable architecture.
Of the three, two were still on the ground floor. One was sitting by the bar, doing lady-knows-what, and the other was in room 117, his figure melding closely with another—surely a result of the man using his amnesia-inducing visions.
Finally, the last one, besides the two keeping guard outside the hotel, was heading towards room 208—Wilfred’s unit.
I don't think so.
----------------------------------------
Knock, Knock.
Seluvis rapped on another door and snapped on his new set of gloves for the job. He didn't like touching them with his hands directly. After all, most brain were a pool of rot and piss that was best kept at a distance from himself.
He was only doing this worthless job because the higher angels demanded he do so. Otherwise, he would never bother with the minds of mundanes. They were so…small, and limited, and lacking.
Burning their memories or ingesting their nutrients didn't help him at all—not even for new insights, as he'd done it hundreds of times already. If that wasn't useless, then rats were gods. He personally didn't mind children's brains as they had so much potential, but the old codgers and close-minded garbage in here wasn't worth even another glance.
Tch, he clicked his tongue. Unfortunately, it had become nigh impossible to get his hands on children's brains since Duskfall, and he was all but starving.
I hope I get lucky and the person inside's an observer. That way, this trip wouldn't be completely in vain since he didn't really care about the rewards he'd get for the mission. Higher angels were pompous and treated lower members like him as cannon fodder.
How would he ascend higher if he stuck with the measly amount of 'legal rations' they allotted to him for these missions?
So, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible, he knocked harder, his eyes glowing brightly as he did so. He would pull the target into a simple daydream.
It was the catch-all Vision that allowed him to target a single person at a time and manipulate exactly what they felt and saw. This made him wonder, What should I conjure for this guy?
He'd lost his creative streak after just a couple days of obtaining this power and couldn't be bothered to make up an interesting scenario anymore. So he conjured the tried and tested inciting sequence, where the one opening the door would be this person's most hated enemy. Now, he just needed to gaze into the man's eye to initiate it.
"I'm coming. Please wait."
"Hurry up!" he grumbled.
Click!
"Huh? It's not opening."
Click...click.
Seluvis pushed the door from his side as well. However, it didn't budge at all. These fucking mundanes. They thought themselves smart and that they could get away with lying to him.
Well, this wasn't the first person who didn't want to open their door. He knew how to deal with these. He changed the mold in his perception, and instead of trying to replicate this guy's worst enemy, he prepared the image of a police officer and…
Bang Bang! "Open the door right now! This is a lawful inspection, and resistance will be considered a crime against the crown."
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Suddenly, the peephole became dark—surely the guy inside looked through it, and this was the opening Seluvis needed. He envisioned himself as most menacing of the policeman and initiated the vision with a mental command.
"Uh…umm, officer, I'm not lying." Stuttered the voice from inside, utterly terrified. "It's…it's not opening. I apologize. I'm trying."
"Don't waste my time, lordling. You'll be going straight to jail for failure to comply if you don't open up right now."
Click Click Click Click…
The door shook and rattled, but no matter what the guy did, the god-damned thing didn't budge. Annoying, Seluvis grumbled as he tried kicking the door himself to no avail.
"Officer, please listen to me. I am really not trying to avoid inspection. I am a law-abiding citizen and a servant of the government myself. Please, please trust me. I have nothing to hide. Maybe—maybe the butler can do something about it. Right, right. BUTLER! A little help here!
BUTLER!! Please, this is important."
Seluvis sighed, This is bullshit. "Okay, stop shouting!" He ordered, "I'll look into it." He didn't want to create a commotion just yet. He couldn't pull a large crowd in his daydream, after all.
Well, at least not yet. He was making good progress as a second shade Persuader towards the Unifier, but he wasn't there just yet. Heck, that was why he hated this waste of time. He could be doing better things.
"Wait right here," he reminded the man inside who was clearly not an observer, for he hadn't resisted at all. Another waste of time.
Regardless, he thought, I think the second person whose memories I wiped had a master key to the hotel on him. I can just grab them. If even that doesn't work, I can maybe ask one of the other guys to shoot the damned thing.
He didn't like guns or weapons, but they had their uses at times like these.
Nodding, he beelined towards room 212. Without bothering to knock, he barged in and walked towards the waste of skin sitting by the corner, dazed, hugging his knees.
The man wasn't even worth getting his hands dirty over, but luckily, he had his gloves on. Someone as close-minded as him would serve no purpose in any society—not even as fodder, and would instead pollute his insights if he tried to feed on him.
Shaking his head, he kneeled and patted down the man with disgust clear on his face. Following the jingle of the keys to his breast pocket, he thrust his arm into it and pulled out the key bunch when—
Crack…Thudd!
"Aghhh!" Seluvis cried out as something heavy smashed onto his back, and he lost his balance. "Mother of a trollop fucker!" He shouted, splayed on the ground as the fucking…wardrobe crushed him underneath itself.
"What clay brain made this garbage," he screamed, followed by a plea, "Someone help!" His back began hurting like a half-breed on coal, and he couldn't help but curse louder, "Fuck! Someone help me, angels above!"
The wooden monstrosity continued to crush him, and the air began to feel scarce as he slowly became desperate. What in the name of gammon-faced bastards are these people doing? Why is no one helping me?
He was sure that at least six or seven on this floor still hadn't lost their memories. So why in the name of rotten angels are these sewer scums not coming to help me out!?
As the towering thing crushed him, and his breaths became ragged, his eyes landed on the waste of skin in front of him. The falling wardrobe had missed him by a hair's breadth, and he stared back at Seluvis with blank eyes.
"Useless rat-fink!" he shouted, feeling the wooden knobs trying to crush and impale into his back. He couldn't even get this waste to try and help him out now that his memories were buried—slowly burning away. There was nothing to make him daydream. Not unless he could touch his head—which he couldn't from down here.
"Aghhh, fuck these pebble-brained halfwits. They can't even help a fucking stranger, for fuck's sake. This lot deserves to lose their memories." Unfortunately, he couldn't pull them into his illusions without seeing them proper.
Realizing no help was coming his way from these scums, he pushed his arms against the ground, trying to lift the motherload of the towering furniture on his back.
"Haghhhh!!!" he screamed louder, and he could swear he heard a bone crunch inside himself somewhere as he somehow managed to slip out of the damned thing.
THUMP! It smashed down onto the floor as dust blew through the room. Cough! Cough! Agh… he hacked, feeling his lungs almost on the verge of bursting out.
"Why is it so god-darned hard to breathe!" he spat, engaging all his innards to suck in some more breath.
This didn't feel right.
Something is wrong! he realized, breathless. There was no way this was normal. He was never a patient of these breathing diseases. Even with that god-damned thing falling on him, it didn't make sense that he couldn't breathe easily. Not when he was a second-shade observer. It ascended his body to new heights, where such mundane problems became distant.
That's when he realized another oddity. I can't hear for a god-damned thing. The carriages, the wind, the crowd, nothing! His eyes then landed on the bottom of the wardrobe. There, he noticed a cracked leg. Is that what happened?
The leg of the thing just happened to crack when I was there?
No. That can't be! He held his back as it screamed at him to rest and crawled towards the exit, shouting, "Captain! Bayle! Keeth! Something's off here. Someone is playing with us. Something malevolent."
He somehow made his way over to the door. However, when he tried to push it open, it didn't budge. He tried harder. And harder. And even harder.
.
.
.
Nothing worked.
A chill crept down his spine, but he tried to maintain his composure and yelled, "Open the door! This is not funny! I am Angel's envoy. If you don't stop this right now, there will be consequences."
He tried once more.
Nothing.
This…
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and his heart pounded like a drum as he scurried towards the window, intent on not being caged in here. Captain should still be outside, and if I can just appear in his line of sight, he can surely read my emotions and understand that something's wrong.
That was his only hope.
Because he was now one hundred percent sure that something was indeed targeting him, and all this wasn't some coincidence.
Using his arms to push himself forward and mouth to breathe, he rushed to the other end of the room. However, when he had to stop to take a deep breath, something gleamed in his peripheral vision.
He snapped his head over, and the light in the room changed. No, it brightened. The world turned bright as the gas lamps on the chandelier overhead became…bigger?
"Nooo!" He realized what was happening and his brain exploded with dread as a scream escaped his mouth. He tried to throw himself out of the way—
Smash! Crunch! Tinkle! Squelch!
"Aaaghhhh!!!" he shrieked in pain as he felt his pelvis crush under the weight and his bone being punctured by the metallic tip. A hot wave of excruciating pain washed over him as it impaled him into the ground alongside itself, only to be burnt by the hot steam of the gas lamps that continued to radiate light.
He screamed and bellowed, but the room only grew brighter and brighter.
And brighter.
And brighter.
.
.
.
Until white was all that remained.