Edna collapsed on the floor, her eyes lifeless. The hand shredded through the door like it was paper. Soon a tall lanky man with blonde hair and a blonde pencil thin moustache stepped in, his brown leather shoes crunching on the splinters. He stepped over Edna’s body, not bothering to even spare a glance at her still open hazel eyes. A grey vest, pants and white shirt neatly arranged adorned his gangly frame. Eyes burning yellow behind spectacles and a wicked wolfish grin which seemed to sweep unnaturally up his face, almost reaching the corner of his eyes, he regarded his handiwork with apathy. His nose was hooked and his teeth sharp and pointy. Nails black and skin as white as a ghost. He was the apparition of death.

Oz wanted to scream and cry, but when those amber eyes rested on him, he couldn’t move. Even the box in his mind seemed to cower in fear. It’s… it’s not like I remember…He’s… scarier.

The yellow-eyed man licked his lips salaciously, as if savouring the sensation. He looked pensive as if calculating something.

“I only managed kill ten of Ed’s children… now his wife…” His voice was eerily calm, not at all the voice of someone who had just committed murder, more like the voice of someone recounting secretarial duties. His burning yellow eyes fell on the shivering boy. He approached, his eyes focussing on little Oz. Slowly his hand reached out and patted Oz’s thick black hair. “You seem familiar to me little boy… no matter… do you know where your sisters are?”

Oz managed to shake his head jerkily. Small tears streaked down his face. The sensation of the man patting his head revolted him. All he felt was fear. Intense fear. He kept shaking his head. It was all he could do.

The yellow-eyed man looked at him almost sympathetically, “That’s okay… you’re… frightened, yes? Terrified. I’ll put you out of your —”

A sharp gurgle shot out of the man’s mouth. His amber eyes were laced in confusion. As blood trickled out of his mouth he looked down to his chest. His eyes widened. There was a gaping hole in his chest and his heart was missing. He turned around as red fluid leaked out of the crater in his chest and bubbled out of his mouth. When he saw who was behind him, he smiled.

“McCarthy.” His voice was surprisingly steady at seeing the Chancellor gripping his still beating heart in his hand.

“Lee.” Came the flat and hard reply.

Squish.

The hand closed, mashing the organ to pulp. Lee sunk down to his knees and stumbled forward, almost crawling towards the Chancellor. Then collapsed in a pool of blood. His smile still etched on his face, he slowly drawled out, “I see you’ve advanced… I didn’t even sense your presence.”

McCarthy didn’t respond. A wind flickered around his hand carrying the red fluid and flesh off into the distance. McCarthy raised his hand casually and a wind flung Lee’s body like a ragdoll out the door.

“Get out of my sight. Worm.” He looked over his shoulder at Lee’s splayed out form spread across the grass. “Traitor,” he hissed vehemently.

McCarthy stooped down and felt Edna’s pulse. He frowned. His eyes misted over as if he was about to cry.

“This reminds me of that night,” he said to no one in particular. He looked up from his observation and locked eyes with Oz, he gave a start, as if noticing Oz for the first time. His ears could dimly pick up the laughter of the twins in the back rooms of the house. He cocked his head to one side as if taking in the tragedy of the scene. A small tear leaked out of the misting eyes.

McCarthy felt his chest clench, “How many times must I see things like this?” It was a whisper so quiet Oz could barely hear it. McCarthy’s blue eyes focussed on him. Then he gently blew, and a whisper seemed to surround every facet of the house. Oz’s eyes drooped. The laughter of the twins stopped. Three gentle thumps of children hitting the floor sounded out.

“Dormies.” Came the whisper.

McCarthy squatted down beside Edna’s body and closed her eyes gently. “Don’t worry, your children will forget this day… and they won’t see what will come next.” He gripped her head in his hands, then paused, “If the Green Hills are real… you of all people deserve to be there… Da Shan would be proud of your swordsmanship.”

He turned his hands.

Crack.

Her neck snapped back into place. McCarthy grimaced then pulled out a bag and floated her lifeless corpse into the bag. Then stowed it in his pocket.

I can’t let Ed find this out. McCarthy tried to think of a solution.

As he thought he let a wind sweep up the splinters and with a wave of his hand the door was fixed. It was good as new, as if it hadn’t been torn to shreds a few moments ago. The breeze rolled around his body, cleaning off dust and debris and arranging his hair.

McCarthy sighed, from the depths of his soul. I was too late…

He pulled out a cigarette.

He lit a match.

He inhaled.

BOOM!

The door exploded in a shower of splinters. The cavity in Lee’s chest had filled in and his spindly form tore through the door. Eyes alight with fury. Teeth exposed in a wicked grin. He lashed out, his black nails seeming to rend reality itself.

McCarthy was caught of guard. The claw was too fast. McCarthy’s eyes widened, and his lips twitched as the clawing attack raked through his back, scooping out flesh and vertebrae as it passed.

Lee’s face exploded with glee. Almost giggling he twisted his body and prepared to swipe again with his other hand.

BOOM!

Lee’s face crumpled. His nose shattered, and his cheekbones fractured. Before he could wind up his swipe McCarthy’s foot had connected with his face — sending him flying back out the door. The impact created a shockwave that cracked the walls of the house and the shattered pieces of the door flew into the air. McCarthy’s eyes burned with blue flame and his voice softly crooned out as he kicked.

“Dwi Chagi.”

Lee tried to right himself as he flew in the air. But his face was full of panic. Before Lee could recover himself, McCarthy leapt after him with unnatural speed and dropped an axe-kick on Lee’s chest in mid-air — sending his body careening into the ground with another powerful shockwave.

“Naeryeo Chagi.”

BOOM!

The secretary’s body smashed into the earth with meteor-like velocity. The ground exploded in a cloud of dirt and grass obscuring Lee’s fate. McCarthy slowly levitated down to the ground, about ten feet from Lee’s point of impact. He puffed absently, then realized his cigarette had fallen out of his mouth at some point. Keeping his eyes fixed on the smouldering earth. He lit a cigarette and looked around casually. Thankfully Ed’s house is a little out of the way… No one needs to see this.

He gestured absently, “Sasha…”

A ghostly girl materialized. She looked a little older than Matilda, perhaps a teenager. Her wispy face and form looked at McCarthy attentively.

He smiled at her and pat her head, “Make a wall… no one comes in or out.”

She smiled. Then vanished.

McCarthy’s eyes jerked to the clearing cloud of smoke. They widened a bit. Lee had climbed out of the crater. His clothes were shredded where McCarthy’s foot had struck his chest. The chest cavity had sunken in, resembling a crater on the moon. But the sound of popping bone and growing flesh filled the air. His body was knitting together before McCarthy’s eyes. The Chancellor sniffed. There’s no smell of medication in the air… it must be his… cultivation? But to have this level of healing… it would mean…

“You can’t kill me McCarthy! I’m stronger than you think.” Lee’s voice was still strained, from the pain of McCarthy’s attacks, but it was confident. His nose regrew before McCarthy’s eyes, cartilage and skin wove together as if guided by an invisible hand. The Chancellor just looked at his secretary with a cold expression.

“How long?” McCarthy asked the question that was burning in his mind. How long have you been a traitor? … Maggot.

Lee merely grinned wolfishly. “When Quan get’s here… you’re a dead man… I just want you to realize that… you can’t escape from me… I’ll hunt you down… forever.”

McCarthy snorted, “Big words from a man who can’t take a little kick.”

“You seem to have not realized it yet… how’s your back? Feeling better yet?” Lee licked his black nails as if fantasizing about the taste of McCarthy’s blood.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Ha!” McCarthy simply laughed. “Little tricks… it’ll heal eventually… I barely feel a tickle like this.”

“We’ll see how long you last.”

“Big tough guy… I’m curious ya damn dog. You’ve been acting all tough, talkin’ big. But I ain’t seen jack from you. Tell you what! I’m feeling generous, first move! Yours. Take it.” McCarthy drained his cigarette and pulled out another one. He lit it. As if unconcerned about the opponent in front of him.

Lee’s grin stopped. He quietly said, “Pride comes before the fall.”

McCarthy sneered, “You learn that when I dropped you?”

“Imbecile.” Lee breathed deep. His eyes burned brighter. Like the sound of a thousand peals of thunder. Like the crashing of an avalanche. He spoke. In the common tongue!

“By the light of the moon.”

The cigarette fell out of McCarthy’s mouth.

A rumble of thunder pealed across the sky. Blackness following in its wake. Like a sheet drawn over a bed, darkness blanketed the heavens. The sunlight was extinguished. The yellow fiery ball turned to a dim pale white. But the light under the sky was blood red. A white moon. A black sky. Red light.

Lee’s smile nearly split his face, “Surprised?”

McCarthy’s blue eyes went dim, “Witch… you’re a with the witches! You dare speak the language of men to the heavens?!”

Lee faded into the red light. His voice seemed to come from everywhere.

“But in a sieve I'll thither sail, and, like a rat without a tail, I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.”

McCarthy’s face went ghost white, “You damn cannibal! How many lives have you extinguished?! How many pounds of flesh have you consumed?! We’re cultivators!!!”

CHOMP!

Lee’s face materialized, bathed in red, four times the size as it was before. He bit down on McCarthy’s neck, swallowing his entire head. The Chancellor shouted with rage.

“TEMPESTATIS!”

The wind howled with manifest fury and rage. Forcing apart the red maw that had engulfed McCarthy’s head. The red teeth had touched the soft flesh of McCarthy’s neck for a moment but was forced back by the fierce gale. The wind raged, and Lee’s red jaw screeched as it was forced open.

McCarthy bounded away once his wind had forced the jaws apart. His clothes were drenched in sweat. His breathing heavy.

Lee materialized again, not a head, but his full body now — no longer bathed in red. This time his shadow seemingly alive and rippling with vitality. He appeared in an instant, faster than McCarthy could respond. He slashed out with laughter, black claw marks sailing through the air.

McCarthy leapt — but he wasn’t fast enough.

Plop!

His right leg was lopped off and dropped to the ground. When he landed he stumbled, his lack of leg throwing him off balance, and he ended up in heap. His chest heaved with exertion and his face paled at the loss of blood

Lee’s laughter echoed in the blackness.

“You will be delicious!” He screeched as he charged for McCarthy. He pounced on the prone Chancellor, his eyes hungry with desire and burning with hatred.

But then his face froze.

“Why can’t I move?” Lee’s voice was doubtful… he was shocked. Lee’s body was suspended in mid-air. In mid-strike — and he couldn’t break free! Then, his eyes nearly fell out of his head as McCarthy’s leg regrew in front of his eyes.

McCarthy frowned at the lack of pant leg. He snapped his fingers and a wind carried the fabric off his old leg and stitched it over his new leg in seconds. He stood and dusted himself off.

Lee’s eyes were full of panic.

McCarthy looked at him and gestured absently. Lee was lowered from the air and made to stand straight, a wall of wind binding his every move. Lee tried to speak but found his jaw was constricted by the solidity of the air around him. He couldn’t even blink. Soon tears began to leak out of his eyes. McCarthy floated up a cigarette from his pocket. It. spontaneously lit.

Lee was shocked. How can he… how can he do that?

McCarthy sat down, supported by and invisible chair, then reclined as a ghostly throne appeared behind him. He casually blew smoke into Lee’s eyes as he puffed absently. He tapped his cigarette and let some ash fall to the ground. His eyes looked at the entrapped secretary with fondness. As if recalling the good old days. But then his expression hardened, and aged. His expression resembled that of a tired old man, despite his youthfulness. He began slowly, his voice low and steady.

“It’s tiring Lee… it’s tiring to pretend you’re weak, just to let people show their true colours. You must have reached the upper levels of Captain Grade right? Both you and Jannes. Logically, an Abnormal Cultivator like yourself and a Psyker like Quan — both at upper Captain Grade — should be able to kill a Rear Admiral.” McCarthy flicked his cigarette away.

Lee’s eyes were red. His mind was running at a million miles a second. He was afraid… truly afraid.

McCarthy continued.

“People think I’m insane. I assure you I’m not. No I’m not… I’m not crazy. I can just smell treachery… first it was Da Shan… then Ed… now you… People I trusted.” He paused, then leaned forward and steepled his fingers.

“What is the wind Lee? Ah, I forgot… you can’t speak. I’ll tell you. The wind is the movement of particles. Did you know, everything is made out of particles? My wife… Maybelle… she came up with this theory and — well.” He paused, then shuddered as an unpleasant sensation rippled across his body, the sensation of being watched. “Maybe we’ll save that for another time… besides… I shouldn’t talk too long… maybe you’ll escape. I have one question for you… your answer will determine what I do next.”

Lee’s face was freed. Lee gasped and blinked his eyes furiously, trying to clear the carcinogenic smoke from them. He spat viciously at McCarthy as soon as he recovered, “I’m not telling you a damn thing!”

McCarthy ignored the defiance and casually spoke.

“What do you know about Paderborn?”

Lee froze. He stuttered mechanically, “How… how do you know… that name?”

McCarthy sighed. “Not a whole lot it would appear… that is the reaction of everyone who doesn’t know more than I do… or to be more precise… can’t reveal anything no matter what I do to them.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME?!”

“I hate witches… I will kill you all. I hate communists… I will kill them all! Liberty must reign even by force!”

“HOW DO YOU —”

“A cannibal has no right to speak!” McCarthy’s voice was quiet, but it was heavy like a brick. Lee’s head snapped back as if it was struck by steel not words. Lee’s eyes and ears dripped blood.

The hapless secretary gasped, “What are you?”

“Invincible.”

McCarthy looked up at the sky and peered off into the distance, as if he saw someone looking at him from way up there. Then he stared at Lee, “I have to get back to work… I need to find where Paderborn is hiding… don’t worry Lee, I can sense his eye. He’s not coming for you. But I suppose he wants to see how much power I’ve been hiding. I’ll grant you a quick death… but it will be the most painful experience of your life.”

McCarthy closed his eyes. Lee’s reality altering art vanished instantly. The blood red light vanished. The black sheet over the sky evaporated. Not erased but replaced. A deeper blackness took its place. It was cold, like the void of space. Empty. Devoid of reality. The fabric of the universe trembled around McCarthy.

He opened his eyes.

They were blue… all of it was blue. With a living flame.

“Respirare.”

The word filled the air. But emptied it. It was as if it never had been spoken and if it always had been spoken.

The void shattered. The sun returned as if it never had left. The grass was green. The crater from when McCarthy had axe-kicked Lee was gone. The splayed limb was gone. The birds were singing, everything was as if it was a normal day. Lee was gone.

McCarthy stood. His throne vanished. He looked at Ed’s house. The door had been repaired. He looked at the sky… Gone already Paderborn? Don’t worry… Da Shan and I haven’t forgotten about you… I will find you, you damn communist.

McCarthy walked, slowly, towards the Sect Headquarters, he started speaking. To no one in particular. His voice was in a lecturing tone as if talking to a student that wasn’t there, “We are neither living nor dead… we are just loose arrangements of matter… just specks arranged in an order… we are nothing. There is nothing. All is nothing. All will return to nothing. All that exists… is power.”

As he walked, a cloud in the sky, that resembled a woman. A beautiful woman. If a cloud could look beautiful. It frowned.

McCarthy whispered again, “You weren’t right about everything May… not everything.”

Jannes dropped out of the Thought Realm, landing on the ground in a heap. His clothes full of small holes from where Ebenezer’s roots had pierced him. The ground was hard and cold. There were no plants in sight. Just the long black humming needle that was the Transfer Point. Jannes stumbled as if drunk along the earthen floor, his hands finding purchase on the cold brown walls. The room was small, dark and square, a single torch hung from the back wall — opposite an empty archway that led to a flight of stairs. Jannes slowly inched along the wall till he reached the base of the stairs. Slowly, one step at a time, he stumbled his way up. The walls were transparent like glass. He could see bright lights all around, like stars in the night sky through it was midday. He paused to catch his breath. He always wondered if this place was truly above his planet, or if it was just an illusion.

He walked for hours.

Comets sailed by. Stars pulsed with life. The clouds on the world below rotated slowly. He had seen all this before, if it was easier to breath it would be easier to appreciate. The air was thin and cold… he was still dizzy from the Thought Transfer and the lack of oxygen wasn’t helping. The distance was too great to do in one jump, it took too great a toll on his body. But he sensed that if he didn’t make the jump… somehow… just somehow… McCarthy would have been able to hunt him down. But up here, he was safe. Finally, he reached the top of the stairs and he plopped himself down on the black and white tile floor. The air was so thin he could barely breath. He pulled himself to his knees and began to crawl forward.

The room was massive, it seemed to be without walls and stretch toward infinity. Only a few dozen feet from the top of the stairs was a man. He was sitting on a chair — a simple wooden chair — and his elbows were resting on a table. Both the chair and table were unadorned and crafted of black wood. His hair was wispy and blonde. Across his mouth was a pencil thin moustache. He wore a white shirt with a grey tie, vest and pants. His eyes were a soft amber. His face was handsome and perfectly shaped, his nose was straight, and he had high cheekbones. On the table in front of him was a pedestal, also crafted of simple black wood. But around the pedestal were twisting patterns, like ivy scrawling up a wall. Faces, shapes, plants and words — as if etched by a masterful hand. Suspended in the air above the pedestal was a bright yellow eye, aflame with fire. The eye looked down at the planet below, as if focussed on a particular point.

Then it shuddered and squealed.

The man at the table clutched his chest in pain and sweat poured down his brow. A small trickle of blood dripped from his mouth.

He smiled.

Then wiped the blood and gently stroked the eye, soothing it. It wriggled and squirmed, almost purring like a cat. The man withdrew his hand and thoughtfully rubbed his moustache.

The eye stirred.

It turned and focussed on the crawling Jannes.

The strange eye seemed to smile, then it spoke, it’s voice like the scrapping of stones, “Massster… the weak one… he’ssss come…”

The yellow-eyed man turned and faced Jannes, who had crawled within ten feet of him. His smile fell, “It’s good you remembered to crawl this time… it’s important to remember your place.”

The voice was neither light nor heavy. Nor loud nor soft. It was indescribable. It was just a “voice”. Completely neuter, with no characteristics. Devoid of emotion and without passion.

Jannes shivered when the man spoke to him. He mustered up his courage and spoke, “Master —”

“Do not say my name… failures like you are forbidden from speaking my name.”

Jannes recoiled as if slapped. He began again, “What do I do now? He knows who I am..."

The man smiled.

“You need a new face.”

The man’s hand descended towards him, the black nails contrasting with the white skin. Jannes tried to scurry away but it was like he couldn’t move or change his orientation no matter how much he tried. The man’s hand descended towards him, the black nails contrasting with the white skin. annes whimpered in fear as the hand approached, but he couldn't escape.

A sadistic grin warped the man’s face, “This might hurt a little.”

The cold empty room was soon filled with shrill screams.