Mentally, she felt more attuned than ever, a heightened awareness lingering since the day's inception, preceding the tumultuous encounter that disrupted everything within the confines of the mall. At a sensory level, her perceptions exceeded the boundaries of human definition.
The Id, in some semblance, remained subdued. Its persistent urges, however, manifested physically, evident through tense muscles, snapping joints, twitching fingers, clenched teeth, resonant groans, and a disturbingly savory, bloody taste that enveloped her tongue. Yet, amidst this chaos, the Ego, though tormented by the day's tribulations and the loss of bodily autonomy, somehow retained a semblance of clarity.
'What is happening to me?' MK questioned, sensing a distress that permeated not only her body but also her beleaguered mind, as if pierced by a venomous spike, if such an analogy could even make sense.
The poison had infiltrated her brain, activating neurons responsible for taste and hunger, thereby explaining the swollen tongue and the intense, primal urges stemming from the depths of the Id.
'Please! Please! Please! End this! I can't endure it anymore!' Desperation clung to her words, a fervent plea for release, even death. The burden of the day's experiences seemed insurmountable, and even if she were to regain her body and alleviate the pain, her worldview had been shattered in a brutal manner, leaving an indelible mark on her very essence that no healing could erase.
"HAAARRR!" The agonizing shriek tore from her throat, spraying blood instead of saliva, inflicting more pain upon her. And within, a torrent of tears flowed unabated.
"Settle down, spawn!" The voice, previously addressing her by name, resonated once again. Each word anchored her to her true conscious self, bolstering her Ego and lifting them from the abyss. With one of two sentences, the voice further restrained the Id, just as it had control over her body.
"I wasn't supposed to say anything, but I can't ignore the pleas of the innocent. Regrettably, I don't have the power to reverse your condition, not to restore you to who you once were. Before completing my task, allow me to offer solace by saying that while the past remains immutable, the future holds possibilities beyond your wildest imagination."
...
Minutes earlier.
He intercepted her mid-air as the Vampire callously hurled her against the building wall. Despite her inhumanly broken form, she was feisty, put-up resistance and struggled within his grasp, making the task all the more challenging. Knocking her out was not an option; she teetered on the brink of transforming into a loose Thrall, the final stage before succumbing to the fate of a man-eating Zombie. Thankfully, he subdued her just in time, preventing her from tasting human blood.
Every move he made was meticulously planned, guided by none other than her – Venessa. There was no room for luck or chance; it all hinged on her Sight.
With her slung over his shoulder, he noticed the peculiar Ninja-like girl making her way through the hole in the wall. She reached safety just before the Vampire's Blood Magick erupted in primal madness. At a distance, it seemed like she fled hastily, her frantic body language spelling out a resounding "NOPE". It took him a split second to comprehend the reason – the arrival of the late Adjudicator!
He observed the tardiness of the Adjudicator's arrival, deeming it an abysmal display for someone tasked with upholding the stability of the Material Dimension – a self-proclaimed declaration that seemed nonsensical in his eyes. Nevertheless, the Adjudicator, a Third Level Metamorphosis wielding the formidable Median Staff, held an indisputable authority that few could challenge within the Material Dimension.
Undeterred, he departed without the fear of glancing over his shoulder. While he was certain the Adjudicator was aware of their presence, neither he nor the young woman posed, pose, or would pose a threat to the Material Dimension, possibly ever, let alone to the Divine Dimension.
Having distanced himself from the commotion, he paused in a secluded park and gently placed her on the ground. Observing her physical and mental turmoil, he refrained from speaking to her. He was aware that any action he took had already been foreseen by Venessa, absolving him of blame and likely factored into her enigmatic plan.
…
Presently.
He didn't have much to say to the distressed girl, but offering some measure of solace seemed the least he could do before whatever concoction Venessa had devised unfolded. Gently swiping her face, he closed her eyes and, with his index finger, parted her bottom lip, opening her mouth. Retrieving a jar from his saddlebag, he unsealed it, revealing a gooey black liquid that emanated green Magick, enveloping his hands in an otherworldly glow. Large bubbles burst in the jar as it made contact with the air.
Bringing the jar close to her lips with utmost care, he began, "In this world dominated by the 'Seven', some believe a 'Trinity' holds the second-best mandate." Pouring the gooey black liquid into her mouth, it flowed smoothly, leaving the jar sparkling clean.
The liquid traversed through her paralyzed body, observed keenly by his all-consuming, glimmering green eyes. Her wounds emitted wisps of smoke as they healed. The liquid tinted her obsidian black, and a thin, wax-like membrane seeped from her pores, shaping a human cocoon around her. At that moment, he caught a final glimpse of all facets of her neurotic self, now falling dormant as the liquid seamlessly fused with them.
'It is done,' he pondered, standing upright. Although the process had only just commenced for her, by morning it would undoubtedly be complete. Uncertainty lingered regarding the outcome of the Trinity – the nature of the creation destined to emerge from the cocoon.
'If it were anyone other than Venessa, I would have wagered it ending in failure, with nothing remaining when the sun dissolves the dark substance.'
Taking a step forward, his foot dipped into The Gray. "Like all of Them, she is magnificent, omnipotent in comparison to us mere mortals. She refrains from flaunting it, but I understand. I know she prioritizes her interests above all. I also know that while she exhibits omnipresence, it is merely an exceptionally keen sight. Some time ago, I received advice that I'll share with you, though you probably can't hear or won't remember... Do as she asks, but only when she's watching." With that, he departed.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
...
08:00
It had been a sleepless night. Michael remained in his parents' bedroom, as did anyone else present that night, excluding the Vampire who departed swiftly – vanished from this world. "It's morning. The sun's up. We opened the windows, and... there's that huge hole in the wall letting it in," Dan cautiously approached Michael. "Is it safe to go out?"
"No, Dan," Michael replied, his tone a mix of apology directed at his little brother and the others, and a silent wonder as to why he had to reiterate himself for the eleventh time. Seated on the floor, fingers folding and unfolding, Michael leaned against the wall, facing the entrance to the bedroom.
'I feel like something changed in me,' he mused, his hands clenching, confident that even without his pale azure Magick, he could make a considerable dent in those giant bank vaults seen in movies. With his pale azure Magick activated, he could even pry them open. 'Definitely with Symbiosis ON,' he thought, gaining a surge of confidence.
'Becoming stronger isn't all...'
His pupils flitted around the room, observing his little brother still eyeing him and his parents, along with Chris, fixedly staring from the bed. They weren't contemplating any additional remarks. Dan had spoken on their behalf, and the interval between Michael's response and their minds processing it had barely passed. It was as if his mind was operating on overdrive.
'Weird,' Michael blinked, acknowledging that adjusting to his newfound strengths required him to manage them at a pace suitable for the present company. 'How did you suddenly make me like this?' he inquired for the hundredth time, yet String, moving about his upper chest, projected mild satisfaction. The only reason Michael had grown stronger was that It had become stronger, displaying disinterest in his new owner's lack of knowledge.
"When will the police arrive?" Chris muttered. Unlike Michael and his emerging powers, he had somewhat acclimated to the pain in his broken leg. "I don't know how people missed the wall collapsing, but it's morning. Don't they have work to go to? Or do they just ignore the chunks of rubble and mistake the hole for remodeling?"
Despite his rant, there was a silver lining – not the one radiating through the hole in the wall. Following Michael's miraculous resurrection, Chris managed to get a signal and call his home. He spent an hour talking with his wife, son, and daughter before reluctantly hanging up. Concerned about the battery, Peter and Mary initially claimed they would stay in the bedroom until Sunday, another full day.
"Maybe we should call the police?" Peter suggested.
"To tell them what?" Michael dismissed the idea. "Wait for David."
The fact that they had survived the night, and that he had even grown stronger, reinforced his trust in the enigmatic David. Furthermore, partly due to the changes he underwent that night and partly because he had run out of patience for arguments, Michael's attitude was unintentionally harsher than it had been at the beginning of the night.
"How about I make everyone breakfast?" Mary offered, attempting to ease the atmosphere.
Neither she nor her husband had been the most attentive parents to Michael after he graduated high school. The realization that they thought they had lost him and then seeing him well had taught them that a change in attitude was necessary to improve their relationship with their third child. Perhaps, if they had made that change earlier, things wouldn't have come to this...
Peter and Mary had yet to engage in a proper discussion between themselves. They awaited the opportunity to sit alone and later include Michael in the conversation. Since the latter half of the night, they exchanged glances, communicating the best they could in their secret language. Chris noticed but refrained from interfering, understanding that he and his wife used a different "dialect" in their secret communication. While their children could sometimes sense when the secret language was being used, they never quite grasped its meaning. Currently, three of the five people in the room were not paying attention, allowing Peter and Mary to share their concern for Michael, who they sensed had undergone a transformation since waking up. Though he appeared outwardly angry, he seemed more distant, almost behaving like a stranger whose only connection with them was the shared situation.
"I'm not hungry," Michael stated plainly.
"Are you sure, honey? I understand you have... powers, but even superheroes eat on TV and in comics. They do, right, Dan?"
"I don't really watch or read, Mom."
"They do," Chris interjected. "I watch with Katia. We binge-watch a show every other month. In my heyday, I also used to read comics. For some, especially speedsters, food is a must to maintain their high-calorie uptake."
"So, Michael..."
"You can't leave the room, Mom. If you want, make something from the stuff we brought."
"And you will eat with us?"
"Yes, I'll eat."
Despite the awkward atmosphere, Mary and Peter felt a sense of relief when all five of them ended up enjoying chocolate sandwiches.
In their last exchange, they were determined to make it work.
"Yeah, my personality has changed too. Or rather, it's like the night at The Debinger when I kissed MK and bit Mason."
Michael's brow furrowed, concealing himself from the gazes of the others. In a solitary word, he recognized his demeanor as "aloof," an acknowledgment that curiously imparted a semblance of levelheadedness to his thoughts. The drawback, however, lay in his inability to discern whether this aloofness stemmed from his natural state, the influence of String, or the ramifications of the Demonic Contract. The first he could embrace, the second he would resist, but for the third... he pinned his hopes on David providing a solution.
At 08:37, a solitary footstep reverberated just beyond the room's threshold. Michael leaped to his feet. 'One footstep? Whoever it is emerged from The Gray!' Recollecting every detail David had shared about permissions and the blockade through The Gray, Michael's confidence faltered. Since the Vampire breached the barrier, certainty regarding permissions had dissipated. Now, he realized that fixating on the entrance to the bedroom was futile, given the enemy's capacity to materialize from any direction.
"I can practically smell your hostility, kid," David emerged outside the bedroom. "Don't let it reign over you. Your growth may be exponential," he entered and paused before Michael. "It's only good to bully the helpless, Helpless."
With a tap on Michael's shoulder, David effortlessly deflated his bravado.
"Disappointing. I thought you realized when you saw us in the hallway."
"I... did," Michael brushed off David's hand. "If you were an enemy, should I have not struggled?" It wasn't the sole reason. What he refrained from mentioning was the shift in his mental state, and the lingering euphoria from his transformation had yet to subside.
"That depends. You must know your enemy to decide whether to struggle for the tiniest chance of survival or relent for the mercy of a quick death."
Allowing Michael to contemplate his words, David turned to the others. "It is safe to go out. Everything is over."
Peter, Mary, Dan, and Chris hesitated to leave the room, lacking the same level of trust that Michael exhibited toward David.
"If David says so, I believe him," Michael reassured them, despite his own surprise.
"The apartment requires a bit of cleaning and repair; otherwise, you will soon be able to fully return to your normal life."
"There's blood-" Michael intended to warn but realized mid-speech that the night's events had likely made them immune to a new shade of red on the walls and floor. "Somebody should take Chris to the hospital."
Dan and Peter carried Chris out while Mary searched for the car keys. "That monster assaulted you. You should come with us for a checkup, at least," there was a tinge of plea in her voice, though she couldn't shake the impression that physically her son was better than ever.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Myself and your son need to talk. From what I see, he's alright. I promise no additional harm will occur to him."
David's words were polite, but something in his presence pressed them to leave. He resumed his attention on Michael when the two of them remained alone.
"Shall we proceed to the epilogue?"