I grimaced as the Logic arced up the scepter in bolts of cyan energy, sending the weapon trembling. The spikes adorning the firecage lengthened, arching slightly upwards into a wicked curve, and I prayed that was it, but the Logic still kept pouring out of me, draining my reserves. The vibrations grew so intense I had to let go of the handle, but instead of dropping, the weapon floated at head height, trembling with barely restrained power.

It stilled, and with it, the entire world. Then it advanced.

{CONSUMED LOGIC - 300 LB}

{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 40 LB}

{[Pharus, Wrath of the Torchbearer] v.06

IS NOW

{[Pharus, Fury of the Torchbearer] v. 1.0

{Reign.}

A Bell tolled from my core, blasting the square with a sound so powerful that it shook stones out of the mosaic, blasted the rats backward for dozens of meters, broke doors from their hinges, and ran a crack through the upper left corner of the marble arch. With a grinding sound that drowned out everything else, the fragment began sliding down as my weapon underwent its transformation.

The head, still blazing, came free of the handle, which shortened considerably. In the meantime, the flaming cage that made up the top of the torch grew up and together until it completely enveloped the flame. The fire roared, dark blue tendrils licking at the bars of its new prison as if angry at its incarceration. Then, a long chain connected cage and handle, and the weapon slammed back into my palm, ready for violence. At the very same moment, the undone fragment of the broken arch crashed into an adjacent building with earth-shattering finality, ending the moment of rapt stasis that had held the battlefield in its grasp.

I didn’t care, my pulse still hammering a steady rhythm in my ears, snuffing out everything but the weapon thrumming in my hand. My wrist shifted, and the chain lengthened, letting the censer fall to the ground where the flames licked at the broken stone.

I watched the weapon scorch the marble, one part of me terrified, another fascinated. The former part pleaded with me to realize what I was doing. To stop. To rest. It warned me that if I kept spending my Logic like this, I wouldn’t have any left when I truly needed it. It was afraid.

The latter told me to keep going, to do what was necessary.

It pronounced power to my anger, and whispered safety to my fear.

It coaxed my worries with the promise of unending confidence.

It gently pulled me into its suffocatingly hot, neverending embrace…

I could be invincible, untouchable, uncaring, it said, setting my nerves crackling.

Maybe. But Sam, who do you want to be?

Suddenly, the drumbeat of my pulse calmed, and a cacophony of sounds rushed to fill the void. There were cries of pain and fear. Zephyro was yelling my name, over and over.

My vision expanded, shifting from the pinprick attention of battle to wide-eyed horror. All around me, buildings had collapsed. The mosaic was completely ruined. The rats, blasted away by my Wish, had landed in the middle of the refugees and leaped at the chance to eat their fill. They had sunk their rotten teeth into the hands of a young woman one on each side and they pulled her deeper into the panicking crowd and out of sight and…

“Look, Torchbearer! Look at your city! This is all you have wrought. Fire and ash, a hellish gloom devouring the light. Is this the progress you promised us? Or is that just the price?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I only wanted…” I mumbled, breathlessly.

“Ah-ha! So you admit it! You are nothing but a demon, sent from the thirteen hells to lead our people astray!”

“No, I…”

“Sam! Oh fuck, Sam, they took the gate and the armory. They have the rifles, Sam. They have the rifles! The fucking rifles YOU insisted on stockpiling!”

Stolen novel; please report.

“But I…”

The woman screamed once more, and my head snapped up. Something ruptured wetly, cutting off the scream.

Something in the crowd flashed, bright cyan making long shadows erupt under the feet of the distressed.

The single fiber that remained of my confidence creaked under the strain.

Who do you want to be, Sam?

My eyes darted around, trying to find purchase for my focus, respite for my battered mind. I spotted Zephyro, far away. Even from a distance, it was obvious he was in a rough spot. His clothes had partially rotted away, rust covered large patches of his armor, and his combat vest, pristine just minutes earlier, sported several rips and tears.

The confusing parts were that he hadn’t healed himself and that I couldn’t spot the source of the damage. Had he been caught in the explosion? But that wouldn’t explain the rust and the rot. The coyote I remembered from earlier would fit the bill, but I couldn’t see it anywhere. There was no way Zephyro could have killed it on his own, was there?

The Vizier had pushed his hands underneath a large slab of stone that had previously been a wall of a house bordering the plaza and was trying to lift it. A few of his people were attempting to help, frantically shouting as they tried to move the debris. Still, even after checking Ardor was still active, I couldn’t spot any explanation for the damage he had suffered. If it had been the Feral, perhaps it had been buried under the rubble, or blown away? Whatever the case, I had neither the time to ask, nor to help. The panicked screams from behind me were a constant reminder that the rats were still running amok in the crowd, and there was no one to deal with them.

No one but me.

I hefted Pharus, wrapping the chain around the handle to stop the censer from dragging over the floor and announcing my approach, then sprinted for the crowd.

It did not part for me as I had been used to, and I had to push myself through the press of bodies. Elbows and shoulders and hands pushed back as the crowd enveloped me, forcing my arms to my side. I smelled sweat and fear, saw flashes of wide eyes and teeth bared in panic. My anger was right there, offering to insulate me from all of it, to cloak me in a shell of supremacy where dread would find no purchase.

It took me everything I had not to reach for it. I couldn’t. If I lost control in the upcoming fight, Pharus’ new form would slice through the crowd like a scorching scythe during the autumn harvest. A thought surfaced, telling me that I was afraid of myself, but I pushed it down as far and hard as I could without snapping in two.

Luckily, the press of the crowd changed in front of me, with people fleeing away from a source of harrowing screams. I had to struggle harder for a brief moment, but then I was through, excess momentum sending me stumbling into a clearing in the crowd. In its middle laid an elderly man two with two beasts—significantly larger than I remembered—bearing down on him. They both looked up in unison, red eyes glowing faintly cyan with stolen data, jaws dripping with blood.

I exhaled, wishing the breath wouldn’t tremble as it did, then let a tiny length of chain free. The censer slid down with a barely audible clink as my fear mounted. Somewhere, deep in my mind, buried under the memories of year-long wars, Stax laughed.

Hahaha! Of course I’m afraid. We all are. Every time we draw steel. It’s what makes it so exciting.

Yeah sure they call me brave, and I like that, but bravery does not mean you’re never afraid.

One rat took a step towards me while the other delivered a killing blow to its victim. As the Feral pulled the Logic into itself, both of them glowed red. Their muscles bulged in unison, and their movements became an iota smoother, more predatory. No sign of the bizarre mutation I had come to expect.

[KXng’X-Mi_d-1]

[Absolute danger level: medium]

[Relative danger level: medium]

[KXng’X-Mi_d-1]

[Absolute danger level: medium]

[Relative danger level: medium]

I blinked. No more clues than that, besides that they shared the exact same readout. I briefly considered upgrading Ardor but held back. The Ferals came closer, and this time, outside of that comfortable cocoon of hate, it was me who took a step back. I cursed myself for showing weakness as the Rats perked up and approached, climbing over glitching, dried-out husks they had left in their wake. I twirled Pharus in my hand, a reflexive gesture, and it sent the censer roaring through the air, traveling in a perfect circle around my weapon and trailing blue flame.

This time, the rats were not impressed. Without hesitation, they charged. I took another step back and bumped into a teenager who was desperately trying to shield a younger kid with her own body. I almost dodged, but then I realized that would place the people behind me in danger. I had to stay, to fight. The rats were almost there. Fear swelled, its icy cold seeping into me. The anger was right there, I could just take it… My eyes went wide.

When in doubt, take a swing.

Without thinking, I did exactly that. With a cry that sounded more confident than I felt, I dropped low and swiped my morning star right-to-left, close to the ground. The censer hit the Feral in front, and blue flames spread around the impact point. The beast screeched and fell to the side as the head of my weapon bounced back and up. I leaned forward and put the energy of that movement into the follow-up, sending my weapon crashing deep into the fallen Rats’ flank. Bone crunched, fire roared, spreading further than before.

My head snapped up, frantically trying to locate the other Feral as I braced for a counterattack, but it never came. The other beast lay to the side, in exactly the same pose as the first, shuddering as it tried to get to its feet. In a snap decision, I twirled my weapon, made the chain quickly wrap itself around my hand, then hit the first Feral with the flaming cage as though I were still wielding a mace.

The hit broke the beast, and both of them died in perfect synchronicity.

It was creepy as hell.