17:25
During the journey, he keenly observed her moments of frustration – snapshots of agitation, grumbling discontent, and animated gestures aimed at the windshield. Her behavior unfolded in a manner more erratic than he could have anticipated, especially given his reluctance to readily accept the concept of mental illnesses. It simply didn't align with his belief system. While he acknowledged the potential influence of underdeveloped brains and brain damage on various mental conditions, the sudden onset of such behavior, particularly after hearing his daughter's account from the previous night...
Up until this morning, she had epitomized the image of a perfectly healthy young woman. No visible injuries, no telltale signs of swelling – just an overall pallor to her complexion. As they neared their destination, spending each passing minute in close quarters, he found himself grappling with the possibility of an ailment taking hold. The conviction solidified when they were a mere four minutes away, and she abruptly stiffened, emitting a sharp shriek while forcefully slamming her foot onto his, compelling him to bring the car to an abrupt halt.
His knee throbbed relentlessly, aching with a force that made him ponder the paradox of how such a slender girl could unleash a power nearly shattering his bone. Adrenaline might have been masking the pain, or had the damage already been done? The display of inhuman strength at his home earlier provided irrefutable evidence of the power she wielded, leaving little room for doubt.
"We're not far, MK," Chris cautiously uttered, mindful of avoiding another explosive reaction. The car came to a stop, and MK's countenance shifted to one of solemnity. There was a fleeting glimpse of rationality in her expression, and Chris seized the moment, hoping to tap into that reservoir.
MK remained fixated on the world outside, her gaze piercing through the scratched windshield. Fingers now digging into the skin of her leg, her nails drew blood as her Id grappled for dominance. Yet, a foreign sense, a support to her fragile Ego, stirred her Super Ego once more. It brought a semblance of reason, but not the kind Chris could easily influence.
The transformation she underwent after Novak bit her elevated her beyond the constraints of the Material Dimension. Her Super Ego, while not strictly adhering to the norms of this Dimension, still maintained an instinctual allegiance, at least as long as her Ego resisted complete assimilation by her Id. This allegiance extended to the rules, customs, and hierarchical structures of the Cross-Dimensional realm she now inhabited.
Chris's unease heightened with the absence of any response. Refraining from insisting on a verbal acknowledgment, he gently applied pressure to the gas pedal. The vehicle inched forward, prompting MK to forcefully slam her fist onto his leg.
The unmistakable sound of breaking bone resonated, accompanied by a surge of pain that didn't subside with a singular blow. Seizing control, MK swiftly extracted the car key and aggressively dismantled the steering wheel.
Fortunately, Chris had managed to bring the car to a stop when compelled by MK's earlier outburst. However, the commotion had not gone unnoticed. Although the sidewalk was relatively sparse in pedestrian traffic, the sudden spectacle drew the curious gaze of several onlookers.
As three high school seniors strolled homeward, concern etched across their faces, they approached with inquisitive gazes. "Is everything alright?" they inquired collectively, their worry tangible.
Two of them ventured closer, genuine concern etched on their faces. "Do you need help, miss?" they queried, while a third attempted to open the driver's door. Chris, sensing the impending misunderstanding, groaned, issuing a futile warning. The trio, immersed in their concern, failed to discern the true dynamics of the situation. Despite the actual circumstances, Chris, in appearance, seemed to be the agitated party.
Attempting to compose herself, MK revealed a subtle vulnerability. Despite Chris's attempts to clarify, the trio, oblivious to the true nature of the situation, reassured, "It's okay. We won't hurt you." One of the boys moved to the passenger's side, opening the door, while the other two positioned themselves, ready in case Chris posed a threat.
Persistently, Chris attempted to convey, "She's a threat." But MK, absorbed in her instincts, remained silent. Her eerily pale countenance, coupled with her stillness, created an impression of profound distress – though not for the reasons the boys assumed.
"Dude, just sit in the car and don't do anything. I'm calling the police and recording you," one of the boys warned, caution lacing his voice. "Miss," the boy on the passenger's side gently nudged MK's shoulder. "You can come out-"
Before his friends could comprehend the unfolding events, MK unleashed a swift palm strike to the boy's stomach, propelling him to the other side of the street. "Ben!" his friends exclaimed, shock and concern intermingling in their voices.
MK pivoted her head in their direction, her teeth bared in a threatening display.
"No, MK!" Chris swiftly intervened. "They're just kids. You want me to take you to Michael, right? I agreed to take you to Michael. We're almost there!"
Crawling across Chris, MK halted just above his body. The two boys bore witness to terror emanating from her eyes – a sight indescribable that paralyzed them with fear until she averted her gaze, stopping millimeters from Chris's face.
"Mi… chael," Chris slowly repeated.
MK sank back into her seat, assuming the role of a passive observer. The warning pulsating from her senses lingered, but the ongoing encounter and the persistent reminder of her objective coaxed her Ego to the surface, if only by a fraction.
Stepping out of the car, she spotted a vehicle halted in the middle of the road. Its driver, having noticed the highschooler sprawled on the pavement, joined the growing crowd. The gathering comprised both fellow students and a few pedestrians, all drawn closer to the unfolding scene involving Ben and the parked car.
A palpable pulse coursed through MK's body, originating not from her heart but from the same source that had unsettled her before – back when she scrutinized Rika. Her Ego struggled to label it, settling on "hunger" during the previous encounter. Now, with unfamiliar faces closing in and impeding her view, the term "ravenousness" seemed more fitting as it surged through her Ego, amplifying the influence of her Id.
Chris descended from the car onto the sidewalk, grappling with his own physical limitations. Uncertain of how to guide MK further or convey the situation when she approached, he faced a dilemma. The two boys retreated, supported by others wearing the same school symbol on their shirts.
MK brushed aside all considerations. Within her, the forces of Id, Ego, and Super Ego were distinct, driven by disparate motivations. The Ego, acting as a mediator, sought to temper the unrestrained impulses of the Id through the guiding influence of the Super Ego – potentially preventing calamities and preserving lives. Before Chris, she came to a halt, visibly quivering from the effort of restraining herself.
"You've injured my foot. It's only fair that you carry me," he uttered, praying that his request wouldn't unleash her wrath. The air hung heavy with tension as MK processed his words, the struggle between her internal forces playing out on her face like a tempest.
Bowing slightly, MK effortlessly lifted him, a man towering over her by a head, clasping him with one arm like a child cradling a doll by its shirt. The spectacle left onlookers bewildered, while Chris, in pain, relied on MK for support. To his relief, she refrained from any physical retaliation. He gestured with his hand.
"Take it slow, please. This way."
…
17:56
David declared his entrance. Michael, Dan, Peter, and Mary gathered in the living room, an atmosphere of tension palpable. An anticipated unease lingered in the air.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"In an hour, the sun will set. Head to the bedroom... What's the issue?" David inquired, noting the subdued enthusiasm compared to when he departed.
"A friend contacted me…" Michael proceeded to explain.
"A redhead girl?"
"How did you know?"
"I observed her in the company of the four members from the House of Dobroutes."
"The Vampires?! Did they turn her?"
"She had been bitten, but the transformation eluded her. Their kind, those Vampires tracing their lineage, held back from turning others into kin. Instead, they molded her into a half backed Thrall, a fate I halted when I intervened. The trail to her led through the lingering traces of Demonic Presence clinging to her being. You're better versed in the specifics than I am," he said.
"We shared a kiss," Michael admitted.
"And you don't typically indulge in romantic exchanges with attractive individuals, do you? I don't intend disrespect. This all traces back to the breach in the contract..."
"But it was just a kiss!" Michael pleaded earnestly. Dragging MK into this situation merely for her kindness differed greatly from involving Mason, who had willingly acted like a prick.
"There's no such thing as 'Just a kiss', much like there's no such thing as 'Just a Demonic Contract'. Once this is resolved, you'll comprehend. Regarding that girl and your friend's father, an unrestrained Thrall resembles a man-eating Zombie, inevitably heading in that direction. Yet, for now, she's driven by her last directive upon release – to find you. Until then, she'll retain a semblance of rationality, enough to avoid inflicting severe harm on someone deemed useful, like your friend's father. And no, Kid, she can't revert to being human, not even under her maker's sway. Unless we terminate her, she's destined for a complete transition."
Michael's refusal surged forth despite his brief acquaintance with MK. "I..." His thoughts stumbled before he vocalized, "Don't touch her. Leave her to me."
David fixated on his own reflection, contemplating dire consequences. "A single drop of human blood could turn her into a Zombie. She wouldn't opt to meet death as an abomination," he asserted, striding past Michael. "Underestimate her not. As a Thrall, she wields physical prowess. Fused with the Worm, it demands all your might just to contend. Should she progress from Thrall to Zombie, she may lack the strength of the weakest pursuer after your bounty, but she'll still overpower you."
The revolver, a constant companion in Michael's hands, felt tighter, an unyielding anchor in his grip.
"What's the holdup?" David queried, addressing the rest of Michael's family.
"Chris, Eric's father, is a friend," Peter clarified. "If he's en route and it's too hazardous once we seal the door, leaving him stranded isn't an option."
Following Eric's plea, they clung to a newfound belief amid the brutal truth unwillingly unveiled.
"Commendable patience," David acknowledged. "I won't insist on shutting the door, but it's advisable to enter promptly. Michael is my main concern, and you are his top priority. I'm here to offer support without imposing it, especially since I can sense you accepted the current situation. Take care and ensure your safety."
Seating himself with crossed arms, David pulled a chair from the dining table. Despite his assurances, Michael's parents and brother hesitated, lingering at the bedroom entrance, their doubts about David's sincerity evident, even amidst the acknowledgment of the surreal situation.
Positioned near the dining table, Michael stood by David, facing the apartment entrance, time unfolding in profound silence.
19:30
An hour and a half passed, marked by an eerie quietude until David rose from his seat.
"They've arrived," he announced. "Been here for an hour, yet haven't gained entry. Others want them to probe under the cover of darkness – the most opportune time for the troublesome among them," he informed Michael before leaving. "As for the girl and your friend's father, handle them as you see fit while I deal with the rest. Michael, no further guidance until this is over. Your survival depends on quick adaptation, learning to carry your own weight in this world," he concluded before departing.
Leaving the apartment door ajar, David left Michael with much to ponder but little time to process. "Mom, dad, Dan, get into the room. Chris and MK are on their way."
No sound of movement greeted his call. Over the past hour and a half, David hadn't checked whether they had entered the bedroom or what they were up to. He refrained from eavesdropping on their conversations, relying solely on hope that they had heeded his words. Unfortunately, they had not.
"Why did you come?!"
All three individuals made their presence known as Peter and Mary seemed to be reluctantly led by Dan, who responded when prompted. "Mom and dad are friends with Chris," he stated, intentionally omitting any mention of MK as they were unfamiliar with her. "We want to ensure the situation doesn't escalate."
Dan's tone carried an underlying passive-aggressiveness, a nuance that resonated with Michael for the first time, striking a chord deep within him.
In a sudden burst of frustration, Michael erupted, shouting, "What the hell do I have to do to convince you?! Or do you hold me in such low regard that you'd rather jeopardize your lives than extend a little trust my way?! I understand! I am the root cause of all this! I've messed up everyone's lives! I was a wreck before, and I might still be, but I'm damn well trying! Really, genuinely trying! So, can you please cut me some slack!"
The tension that had been building over the past few hours finally reached its breaking point, leaving the three momentarily stunned.
'Finally!' Michael panted, still burdened by remorse and the grim reality of the situation. Nevertheless, a weight seemed to lift from his chest, replaced by a sense of newfound lightness.
A prickling sensation at the nape of his neck jolted his focus away from his family towards a disturbing feeling, its origin a mystery – whether it brewed from within himself, the swirling String, or both.
"Chris!" Mary gasped, eyes widening at the sight of the man sprawled on her floor, a disheveled contrast to the person who'd spent recent nights with her, Peter, and his wife.
"I am... sorry," Chris muttered, head bowed in a blend of weakness and shame, avoiding the gaze of his friends.
Mary moved forward to assist, halted by restraining hands – Dan's and Peter's. Both men visibly stunned by Chris's condition and even more so by the woman he accompanied.
Contrary to the monstrous portrayal by David and Michael, she didn't exude overt malice. Yet, normalcy escaped her in torn attire, peculiar body language, and an unsettling fixation on Michael.
'She's different from last night, but she terrifies me, terrifies String…'
'I caused this to her!' Michael furrowed his brows, guilt gnawing within.
She was simultaneously the girl from the previous night and someone entirely different, a source of fear for him and String.
'She intends to hurt me...'
"MK...?" Michael cautiously approached, his uncertainty palpable.
…
She Saw him. Smelled him. Heard him.
The remaining directives resonated within her – Touch, Taste – imperatives heralding her liberation. They drowned the Super Ego, diminished the Ego to a mere fragment, surrendering all to the primal Id.
"I won't hurt you, MK. Do you recognize me?" Michael’s voice held a soothing tone as he placed the revolver on the dining table.
"Michael, don't!" Dan's voice erupted in protest.
A feral growl escaped her lips, an inhuman desire propelling her toward Michael, urging contact and the indulgence of his essence.
…
She moved swiftly. Michael's eyes narrowed as he pondered, 'What kind of physique does she possess?' His pupils contracted as he instinctively shifted to aim the revolver, influenced by String's enticement. However, he abruptly halted the motion, taking a step back.
Her arms and fingers morphed into formidable weapons. Two swings missed him narrowly, the dining table shattering under the impact of her unrestrained power.
'Can I match that...?' Without Symbiosis ON, doubt clouded Michael's confidence to confront her overwhelming strength. "Go to your room!" He yelled at his parents and Dan, continuously dodging.
MK outpaced him not only in speed but also in physical strength. Struggling to keep up, he relied on his well-balanced Physique, a facet somehow linked to his brain, eluding the grasp of the Status Window. This unique attribute enabled him to anticipate the trajectory of MK's attacks and discern their subsequent flow.
"I need to reach Chris!" Relief washed over him that Eric hadn't appeared, but shock gripped him at what MK had done to his father. He couldn't bear to let his friends down by allowing further harm to his father.
With no specific technique or form, just seven points in Magick Ions, Physique, and Psyche, along with ample reading experience, Michael pondered, 'Can I do this?' His eyes glinted with determination. 'I won't seek your help, not yet.'
Clutching his fist, he began accumulating Magick, acutely aware of the diminishing reserves in his Pool of Magick Ions. Pain seared through him; channeling without focus was a taxing endeavor. With only seven points in Psyche, reinforcing his body with Magick exacted a toll greater than manipulating makeshift telekinesis.
The fifth and sixth strikes propelled them into the living room, a considerable distance from the apartment entrance, all within a mere two and a half seconds from the initial swing. Michael clenched his teeth, finding it more challenging to retain Magick in his fist than to channel it. 'There has to be an easier way...' Not that he had time to figure it out.
As his Pool of Magick Ions was depleted by half, he deftly maneuvered around the eighth swing and delivered a precise punch to MK's liver – or at least where he assumed it to be located. The impact lifted MK into the air, sending her crashing into the wall and then to the floor.
Hastily, Michael sprinted to Chris and swiftly carried him to his parents' bedroom.
"Close the door!" Dan's snapped.
Michael's hand hovered over the knob, a momentary pause seizing him as MK regained her footing, a telltale bruise evidence of his well-aimed blow.
"Michael, close it! Now!" Dan's voice pierced through, palpable in every syllable.
"I'm sorry..." Michael's voice was a whisper, resolute as he finally turned the handle, shutting the door and isolating the chaos unfolding beyond its confines.