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“I always told myself I’d have a great quip before I died.
Turns out, life-or-death situations don’t instantly make you more clever.”
— Kiseki “Ki” of The Second Circle
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A pale, bloodied woman threw her crimson hair over her shoulder. Moments later, her vision was clouded again—this time by a much darker red. Her heavy sigh sputtered into a cough.
I was so close.
She spat at her opponent, “I guess it doesn’t really matter to you, does it?”
Kiseki—Ki as she preferred to be called—unsuccessfully tried to wrap her hand around her weapon, but the cold steel of the revolver would have done little to give her courage in front of the monstrous bear dwarfing her underweight frame.
Any observer could have foretold the result of the fight before it had even begun: she was one hundred and fifteen pounds on a good day, with “armor” that consisted of black jeans, an athletic crop top, and a forest-green jacket that was most useful as a raincoat. Meanwhile, her opponent was a living nightmare of open fractures and purple, bubbling flesh that squeezed against fur to create tight bundles of pseudo-muscle.
Even from fifty feet away, the stench of rotting meat and a low, unrelenting gurgling sound threatened to mix vomit with the biting rust that had been ever-present in Ki's mouth since she had been launched into a tree. She pushed herself to a knee and hugged herself across the shooting pain in her ribs.
One bullet left. Definitely won’t pierce it. Maybe I should…
No, I’ll go down swinging.
She clenched her jaw and grabbed at her revolver again, but this time she was met with a sharp crack and dull stinging in her fingers. Her tears of frustration turned into bitter laughter at the sight: ice.
She had created ice.
After all of this time. After a lifetime of effort. After a lifetime of no real magic. She had created ice.
Too little, too late.
Pain, joy, and despair flowed into a current that left her swimming. Ki stumbled to her feet as her consciousness barely stayed afloat. She pulled off the remnants of her jacket, exposing internal bleeding that had become far, far too external.
“Alright big guy, why not make it four for four?”
The living corpse tensed its supernaturally reinforced muscles and spewed out a hiss that grew into a deep roar. As it sprang forward, Ki could sense time moving, yet everything seemed frozen. Twenty-four years of waiting for magic and planning what she would do with it came into her mind like an avalanche. Hope anchored her in the confusion, allowing her to grab onto a memory: a meditation mantra.
A lake! Water imagery always helps. Imagine a lake… Now freeze it… Wait, I need to calm the water first. Wait, what about—
Ki didn’t realize she had made a mistake until her vision was engulfed by fur and flesh.
Her newfound magic wasn’t powering up.
She wasn’t having her hero’s moment.
Memories had flashed before her eyes in a last-ditch effort to find a solution to an unsolvable problem.
Ki couldn’t follow what was happening anymore, and the pounding in her ears had drowned out her thoughts. A cocktail of dread and euphoria stiffened her muscles and made her reflexively shut her eyes. As she lost consciousness, she realized that the last strategy had been decided for her: hope this was a nightmare.
I’m gonna di-
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—Cassie—
In the background, a muscular, well-defined figure had been watching the entire fight. Underneath the hood of her sleeveless vest, the only movement from Cassie’s body had been the swaying of beads on a strand of her golden hair that reached just below her chin.
She had watched Ki enter the fight with nervous confidence, watched her overcome the monster’s corrosive aura, and watched her be utterly crushed. It was tempting to join the fight immediately, and she had to employ multiple tactics—namely mindful breathing and focusing on the flavor of the hard candy in her mouth—to remain in place.
Let her fight first. She needs this.
Cassie’s movements came in phases: after Ki had nearly broken her back against a tree and started to cough up blood, Cassie spit the cherry candy into a wrapper and tucked it away into one of the many pockets of her similarly colored pants.
Then, Ki started to fumble for her revolver, so Cassie summoned orange, rain-like energy that coalesced into a baseball bat.
When the monster raised its body to bring a deformed paw down on the woman, Cassie adopted a wolfish grin and finally leapt into action. The monster was out of Cassie’s league, but she didn’t care. She had already turned off the part of her brain that worried about the fight’s outcome.
Cassie twisted her hips as she exploded through the air, thrusting her momentum through a translucent, hand-length space she’d created between her bat and the skull of the bear.
Her visage never wavered while the bear fought the sudden pressure from the intruder’s weapon. As the magically reinforced bubble of pure force sent shockwaves down the wooden handle, a sharp crack echoed throughout the forest clearing, and the hulking mass was flipped onto its side.
Being hyper-focused on the present did have its disadvantages—she fully felt multiple knuckles break from the recoil of her bat shattering. Cassie shifted to the sensation of hitting the ground and let go of the bat’s handle, rolling upwards to scoop up the collapsed woman.
She stumbled for a moment; while Ki was roughly the same height and lighter than her, she was ganglier and completely dead weight. Cassie moved with the stumble, throwing the dead weight over her shoulder in a firefighter’s carry.
A sudden burst of invisible pressure made her drop her smile as she realized she couldn’t afford a glimpse at her handiwork. Even from a distance, the aura surrounding the bear had made her break into a cold sweat, and when she had been close to the beast she’d gained a million butterfly companions in her stomach.
Luckily for both women, these companions overrode an adrenaline-induced battle high Cassie would normally chase. She turned and shunted magical energy through her legs, propelling the two into the forest.
She felt a pull on her body for a moment, followed quickly by a sudden rush of momentum. Despite escaping the encounter created by the infinite forest ‘dungeon’ known as the Mugen Mori, Cassie did not stop. There was little time: her shoulder had started to burn from the freezing temperatures being emitted from Ki’s body, and her breathing was becoming worryingly shallow.
There should have been a route immediately outside the encounter, but trees continued to wind onto her path, and the forest overhead blocked any opportunity to get her bearings.
Why am I the caged animal?
She had always hated the Mugen Mori. She hated the tightly grouped trees, the ever-changing paths, the inconsistent battles, and the unpredictable weather, among other things. One could influence the paths that would appear through specific entrance selection and by performing specific rituals, but it always felt like the so-called Will of the Dungeon, the Madou, was in control.
The entire forest felt like a lie, an exercise in restriction dressed up as infinite choices. The near-lifeless body on her shoulder hadn’t helped matters by entering the ‘Second Circle’, a massive step-up compared to the beginner adventuring areas of the First.
I’m not giving up after a year of waiting.
She pulled herself from her thoughts and focused on the crunching of grass and flashes of trees. Maintaining her speed while protecting the woman, Cassie recklessly pushed through forest debris, coming the closest she had in a while to regretting her sleeveless shirt.
What was that thing you always said? She thought of her grandfather for a moment. He told her to savor the pain like a fine wine: investigate its flavors, catalog them, and learn to enjoy them. Ki reminded Cassie of him. They both focused on analyzing the situation, even to their detriment. It wasn’t bad advice… It was just dwarven beer was too bitter and drinking wine was frustrating (even being a half-elf ‘granted’ a surprising resistance to lowland alcohols).
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After what felt like an eternity—the oppressive atmospheres of dungeons could make even those with the crest of a Rule Breaker exhausted in minutes if they were not trained—she spotted a tree with a red bandana tied around its trunk. The bandana disintegrated as she took a hard left and leapt over a brook that marked a boundary between the Second and the First.
Cassie was grateful Ki hadn’t ventured past the entrance of the Second Circle, and a dull heat gave proof of relative safety: the compass in her hand had adopted a golden hue and stopped spinning. She followed the arrow’s new direction, and just as the muscles in her legs began to pull, Cassie exhaled sharply and hurled herself through foliage shrouded in unnatural darkness.
She kept moving, knowing this was the ruined fort where she’d left her two companions. Cassie tried to head toward the center of the encounter, but her heart caught in her throat as her legs finally gave out. She slammed her knees into the soft dirt and caught Ki’s body in her arms. While she tried to ignore the sharp pain in her lungs and catch her breath, Cassie unconsciously squeezed Ki against her chest.
Up to that point, Cassie had refused to even let pain enter her mind as a concept. Her subconscious had deemed it too risky to even try her mentor’s technique of reframing pain.
Those fears were proven right when the world turned black.
…
Cassie suddenly felt nothing. A blissful nothing. She was almost comfortable in the weightlessness of it.
…
She felt a forceful shock, like being thrown into a lake in the dead of winter. The initial panic was quickly overtaken by a deep, penetrating coldness.
It was a coldness that could be felt in the bones.
A coldness that stuck with a person near the warmest of fires and on the happiest of days.
A coldness that extended from physical pain to an overwhelming, heart-dropping weight of sadness.
The weight made Cassie want to claw her own heart out. Her lungs screamed for oxygen and she tried to flail imaginary arms, but the desire to surface was overwhelmed by the feeling that the world was laughing at her attempts to fight. A part of her began to accept that this was it, that she should give up and let everything end.
Just as her awareness was on the brink of fading, Cassie felt a spark of warmth. She took advantage, letting the warmth guide her to a golden light. Something stopped her before reaching it, though: a whisper telling her to not leave the sadness behind.
She would never be able to put into words what made her do it, but Cassie kept herself within the crushing weight and reached out to the sadness. Oddly, she didn’t feel ill intent from it, nor did she want to fight it. The crushing feeling didn’t register as an enemy in her head, either.
The pull to oblivion was strong, but the alien spark had helped her separate her ‘self’ from the barrage of sensations. Using her newfound clarity, she reached out, grabbed the sadness, and reached for the light.
———
As she regained sight, Cassie was shocked at the absence of the cold. She could sense the freezing magic coming from Ki, but there was a distance. She laid Ki down and looked at her own hands. Cassie could tell her heavily tanned skin was turning purple, but she couldn’t blink her eyes into focus to confirm the exact damage.
Blurry? Did this girl make me need glasses?
The blur emitted a chorus of tiny crackling noises before shattering and drifting away. Her mind raced while her vision cleared.
Or did I just use my power on my own body?
“Cassie.”
“CASSANDRA”
Cassie side-eyed her two travelling companions, namely the man in his late thirties that had yelled at her.
“I see you, Aidan of The Second Circle”
In all honesty, she hadn’t been very impressed by the man yesterday at their first meeting. He slouched enough to drop his 6-foot frame to a generous 5'10 and managed to be both skinny and out-of-shape in all the wrong places. He wore a rolled-up dress shirt (well, was probably a dress shirt at one point) with a rose hanging out of the front pocket, a buttonless vest, and blue, dirt-stained pants that came up short to his oversized boots.
Aidan did have a few striking features: crimson hair that hung loosely below his ears, striking emerald eyes, and various nicks, cuts, and burns on his body (including a seemingly perpetual sunburn on his pale skin) that indicated a well-traveled life.
Those scars and the sheathed knife on the small of his back showed he could at least somewhat fight. The metal rings hanging from holes at the base of the blade also caught her attention, but she wasn’t going to pry into it—in case they would have an opportunity to fight.
Cassie locked eyes with Aidan, almost forcing Aidan’s out-of-focus left eye to remain still.
Aidan’s voice cracked from dehydration. “That’s not really how our last name works—never mind.”
Cassie interrupted in her own gravel-filled tone, “Bold, maybe-”
A quiet voice tried to interject, and while neither of the two could make out what he said, it did make them both turn toward him. They stared at the teenage boy while he took off a multi-pocketed, snow-white jacket (that, frankly, was wearing him).
‘Kossetsu’ said, “Cassie, cover your hands with this and start warming yourself by the fire. If it starts to burn, you are too close. Aidan, help me prop Ki up against this log and try to offset her body temperature with your magic.”
Impressed by his determination, Cassie and Aidan acquiesced to his expertise as a healer. While Aidan helped move Ki and created a small flame with the snap of his fingers, Cassie sat by the campfire, trying to take her mind from her screaming body.
She took stock of Kossetsu. Much like his voice, he was fairly unimposing: he was the shortest of them, and even with his frame covered in oversized clothing, it was obvious he didn’t have a body type suited for combat. Cassie was far more interested in his choice of headwear: he had hidden his face with a medical mask and hood inside the city, then nervously adopted a stoic drama mask at the entrance to the Mugen Mori.
While healing was a rare, much sought-after ability, hiding his identity in and out of town seemed like overkill. She'd tried to gauge if Kossetsu had any secrets when he removed the mask, but she only glimpsed a shaved head with hints of speckled, snowy hair that stood in stark contrast to his warm brown skin. Everything seemed to indicate he was a normal human.
Cassie also wondered what lay beyond his accident-prone nature. He nearly burned himself when they made a fire, declined to take his leather gloves off when they shook hands, and lost his footing multiple times in their short journey.
After getting a feeling for him, Cassie had started to suspect something besides (or possibly including) awkwardness: he couldn’t feel physical sensations.
This theory gained more traction after he took off his jacket, leaving him in just an undershirt. In some ways, he looked worse for wear than Ki. He was battling an invading paleness, and various tattooed pathways were unsuccessfully trying to hide a collage of cracked lines across his body.
Well, unlike Ki, his lungs are blood-free.
Kossetsu didn’t speak while he pointed to different areas on Ki’s body for Aidan to warm. He paused while he took off his gloves, then said shakily, “Ok. Here… Here’s what will happen next: I will not be able to talk to you, hear you, or see you. Beforehand, I will show you where to guide my hand. Once I begin, you are going to hear some disturbing sounds from my body… Ignore them and continue until I pull my hand away.”
Aidan tilted his head and tried to look at Kossetsu through his drama mask. Kossetsu instinctively looked down. Aidan’s voice changed into a clear, smooth tone as he said, “Your healing comes at a cost, doesn’t it? More than magic.”
Kossetsu didn’t say anything, and Cassie raised her eyebrows. She’d heard of self-destructive offensive and defensive magic, but having healing magic like that seemed unsustainable.
Aidan continued his inquiry, “Do you have to bear this burden alone?”
Kossetsu’s head shot up. “W-what?”
“Do you have to bear this burden alone?”
For a time, the only sound in the camp was Ki’s softening breathing. Kossetsu’s choked response spilled into a torrent of words: “I don’t. No one ever offers that. I mean, the pain is unbearable to someone unaccustomed to it, and I’m usually paid to be the healer. I couldn't—”
Before he could continue, Cassie and Aidan offered their hands.
Kossetsu tried to collect himself. After letting out a deep breath, he looked up at both of them and whispered, “It’s going to hurt. I can’t guarantee how much I will have to take from you…”
He took off his mask, looking toward their voices with pale, colorless eyes.
“But if it's too bad I’ll bear it! I won’t just be some scared kid!”
At Kossetsu’s command, they covered both of his hands with their own. Aidan and Cassie regarded each other, then started to guide Kossetsu’s hands to the worst of Ki’s injuries.
A brutal assault of pain flooded their bodies, but everyone remained silent and accepted the challenge head-on. In a mix of spite towards their new enemy and solidarity with their ally, they refused to utter a sound.
— — —
They were silent when it felt like they were being stabbed in the gut.
They were silent when fresh bruises appeared on their arms.
They were silent when they felt like vomiting from the pain.
The fractures on Cassie’s knuckles crept down her hand, and a muscle in her calf tore.
Aidan felt the burn marks on his stomach grow hot and expand, while his left eye watered from a splitting migraine.
Kossetsu’s nose bled, and his bones shivered and screamed from new cracks forming over old breaks. He suddenly got a feeling the worst was yet to come—this timely instinct allowed him to enter his inner world when he felt powerful consequences surging to his new friends.
He didn’t bother looking around. Even though he now had sight, he was surrounded by a void that only held a full-body mirror. In that mirror, he saw a silhouette surrounded in fog. Kossetsu wasted no time and stared at the shadowed reflection, sending a message of intent:
“Give me more. I am turning on my sense of pain and ability to speak. If I utter a sound or pull away, I will kill myself.”
A grotesque, blindingly white smile stretched across the shadow’s ‘face’.
Kossetsu found himself back with his patient. He held his body steady and continued his healing. Unfortunately, he could never adapt to the pain—that was part of the pact that gave him strength.
Kossetsu involuntarily began to weep, and he wondered if he would grind his teeth to dust. Despite it all, he refused to let the pain impede his ability to magically summarize, re-imagine, and transfer representations of Ki’s injuries.
The process felt excruciatingly slow. It had to. Any kind of rush would result in the transfer being one-to-one. Throughout the thirty minutes of agony, none of the three uttered a sound. When the pain reached its peak, they all looked at Ki and thought the same thing:
If it’s for you, I’ll bear any burden.