Maya's head jerked from a forceful slap, but the girl remained unconscious. Mary paused, scratching her head. Then, grabbing the Knight maiden under her armpits, she hoisted her up and propped her against the house wall.
"I think I may have overestimated your dosage," said the young witch, her tone laced with what sounded like genuine regret. "Not to worry. I have something to revive you."
With that, she stood up and scrutinized us.
"I'm going to the car. Don't get into mischief while I'm gone." She flashed a bright smile. "But then again, you can't!" Having said her piece, the witch retreated into the house.
I needed to regain my composure. I was seething with such fury that I had the urge to sink my teeth into the witch's neck and rip it apart. The downside was that this rage didn't aid me in any way but only fuelled the dark adept's powers. How had I let myself get ensnared like this? I'd fallen into this "blast from the past" like a moth to a flame. Adding insult to injury, I'd been outmaneuvered for the second time by kids barely nineteen. First by Nicholas, now Mary. On the other hand, everyone, including Zanh Kiem and Abel, not to mention the House on the Hill, were confident that Eshin's leadership and the Dark Branch of Lily were eradicated. This partially vindicates me, as I couldn't have possibly foreseen such a thing. But ultimately, this excuse won't assist in extricating me from this predicament.
And never mind Mary's ambush. How had I missed that I had two full-fledged raigs living right under my nose - those I genuinely considered my friends?
And how did Maya end up in this witch's clutches? She had additional protection from a personal bodyguard within the university premises, an elite-class mercenary at that. How had Mary managed not only to drug and bind our Valkyrie but also covertly transport her to this remote cottage?
The fact that the young witch had managed to distract everyone who could possibly aid us during her ritual spoke volumes about her meticulous planning. I wouldn't be surprised if all the cottages in this complex were rented out by her for today and now stood vacant. The local guards might have been bribed or replaced with her people.
If only I could control my body! If only I could access the Break!
Looking at the unconscious Maya, my teeth clenched in anger.
Wait! What?!
I'd managed to move my jaw slightly. I attempted to move my arm or leg, but to no avail. Nevertheless, I felt that the witch's control over my body had slackened. Just a bit; for instance, I could tilt my head slightly and twitch a finger. Perhaps, like with Maya, the witch had miscalculated the dosage, but in my case, it was the other way round? After all, she considered me the least threatening since, in her eyes, I was a weak sensum, nothing more. But the moment a glimmer of hope sparked within me, everything reverted to the way it was, and I once again lost all mobility. Damn! Just a second ago, I was able to move my finger, but now I couldn't even do that! What was happening?
"Clearly, I overdid it with you," Mary reappeared on the veranda, stating with an air of nonchalance, "I'll admit, the plan to capture you was the weakest part of my calculation. That's probably why I pushed it so far."
Crouching down in front of Maya, the witch pressed a cotton ball soaked in some unknown substance to the girl's nose. Maya's nose twitched, akin to when exposed to ammonia, causing her eyelids to flutter open rapidly. It took her about ten seconds to regain her senses. She tried to move and when that failed, attempted to shift to the Break, but both attempts proved futile.
"You're trying in vain," Mary grinned, patting the girl's cheek, "You're as weak as a newborn right now."
Evidently, Mary had drugged Maya with something else since she could move, albeit weakly. Perhaps the poison's effects waned over time? But now I was starting to think that what we were filled with wasn't a poison in the ordinary sense. It was some sort of alchemical mixture that, in addition to its chemical impact on our bodies, required the witch's attention to function fully. After all, I was able to move when the witch was far enough away from us, but as soon as she returned, the potion regained its full strength.
"Ha! Bet you didn't see this coming when your classmate's girlfriend invited you to a city café to 'chat about boys,'" Mary's voice was laced with mockery. "A girlish tête-à-tête..." A satisfied smile stretched across the witch's face. "Honestly, I merely dangled the bait without expecting much. But, lo and behold, you took the bait!" The Dark One playfully ruffled Maya's hair. "So, how did you enjoy our little chat? Quite an unexpected turn of events, wasn't it?" The young witch rose to her feet and performed a ceremonious bow. "Lady Knight, allow me to introduce myself - I'm Mary, the heir of Annabelle the Many-Faced, the last Gifted in the Dark Branch of Lily." Finishing her theatrical sketch, she leaned over the girl. "And the one who'll be responsible for your demise today!"
Clapping her hands together, the self-satisfied witch straightened up, seemingly absorbing the wave of emotions overwhelming Maya.
"Just so you don't get lonely, you won't be dying alone today." Mary stepped back, making a sweeping gesture towards us. "Your classmates, and maybe even friends, will accompany you to the afterlife." She snapped her fingers. "Christian, also known as Break Knight Rex. Claire, known as Break Knight Kael. And Izao..." The witch seemed puzzled for a moment before continuing, "Just Izao."
Suddenly, Mary's expression shifted. From triumphant, it abruptly transformed into one of concern.
"What's happened?" The young witch leaned towards Maya. "You were overflowing with despair and self-disappointment, all of it mixed with a hint of fear and surprise. A rich cocktail of emotions. It was... And then, out of the blue, your fear vanished. Are you... Are you pitying me?!"
Angrily, Mary pulled the gag from the Maiden Knight's mouth.
"Speak!"
"Cough... cough..." Clearing her throat, Maya returned the witch's scowl with a smile. "Did you bring Izao here?"
"Yes! What about it?"
"Everything's a blur right now. Tell me, is he wearing his usual robot shirt?"
"What does that have to do with anything?!" The witch screamed, both confused and furious.
"So, is it the one with robots or not?" The Valkyrie chuckled.
"Of course it is, it's Izao!" Mary threw her hands up in exasperation.
"Phew..." Hearing the answer, Maya relaxed. Even bound as she was, she now appeared as confident as a surefire winner.
"Explain!" A scalpel appeared in the witch's hand, an ominous sign for Maya.
"You brought Izao here yourself." The Maiden Knight answered calmly. "You brought the boy with the robot shirt here."
"So?!!" Mary roared, bringing the scalpel closer.
"That means I won't die today." Having said these words, Maya playfully stuck her tongue out at the witch.
The Dark One jerked her hand but stopped short of striking.
"You're clever." Mary moved away from Maya. "Almost provoked me into killing you quickly. But no! I have a plan, a sequence, and I will follow it." Mary twirled the surgical instrument in her hand. "Everything in its time."
The Dark Gifted, overcoming Maya's resistance, replaced the gag in her mouth.
"That’s better. I was beginning to tire of our conversation. Besides, the sun has already set." She lifted her gaze to the night sky. "And the Southern Cross is in the optimal position." Turning to us, the witch gave a sweet smile. "I'll leave you again, but, as before, not for long."
As soon as Mary left the veranda, I attempted to move again. The first change I felt was when the witch vanished from sight. A barely perceptible change, and had I not been focused on myself, I would have easily missed it. At first, I could clench my jaw a bit, and then, when the witch moved further away from us, I was able to move my index finger. The most significant improvement was my ability to turn my head slightly, just enough to see Maya better. But as soon as I got excited, my progress was reset to zero, and I lost even that minimal control over my body. It was evident that Mary was returning.
"Here I am," the witch announced, appearing on the veranda with a toolbox in her hands, as though she had been away from us for a significant amount of time. "I see you've missed me," she jestingly added, despite her absence of less than a minute. "Bear with me, there's just a little bit more to do and then it'll all be over for you." For some reason, she felt the need to clarify, "It will end for each of you in turn. Two hours, tops." Then, turning her gaze on me, she added, "And you, my feast, will be the last."
Placing her box on the floor, Mary settled down beside it and started to rummage through its contents. As she pulled out items, she would always comment on them, laying them out beside her. Whether it was dried grass or a flower, she would definitely elaborate on its origin and use. If it was a vial of liquid, she would not leave it without an explanation. Anything else was given the same treatment. However, I didn't pay much heed to her. While she was conversing with herself and leaving us be, I attempted to regain control over my immobilized body. Judging by the expressions in their eyes, it seemed like my friends were doing the same.
"Four four-leaf clovers," Mary exclaimed, slight surprise coloring her voice as she inspected the dried flowers in her palm. "I'd forgotten I had these. They're not necessary for the ritual, but a touch of luck can't hurt. I'll put them in the outer circle." She nodded to herself, setting the clovers aside.
The witch seemed to be deliberately prolonging her actions, as if she was savoring every moment. It may well have been the case. If she truly fed off our emotions, then such behavior on her part could be understood. More so, she seemed to believe that she held all the cards, and that she was in total control of the situation. And I had to admit, from my unsuccessful attempts to regain movement, she did seem to have control over everything.
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The fact that I was serving as the main course today was infuriating. Even my fear for my friends' and Maya's lives was overshadowed by this fury. My Spark was the catalyst through which she was drawing even more energy. Failing to regain control of even a single finger, I decided to take a different approach. I attempted to relinquish the external and focused my attention inward. I sought out my Spark... and, to my surprise, I easily sensed a faint but warm glow within my soul.
When the witch initially started her monologue, I didn't try to reach out to my Spark. On the contrary, I tried to "not touch" it, even to distance myself from it. This was because I was wary of playing into the witch's hands; as a sensum, I was completely inexperienced, and compared to Annabelle's granddaughter, I was nothing more than an infant. But now, with unexpected ease, I could sense my Spark of Giftedness. I had never experienced such clarity and distinctiveness before. It seemed that this was the witch's doing, deliberately "exposing" my Spark to make it easier to siphon energy from it. Speaking of which, as I "listened" to myself, I could feel a thin, dark stream of energy originating from my Spark and flowing outward. It felt as though a foreign black leech had attached itself to my aura. In fact, why "as though"? That's exactly what had happened - the leech was foreign, it had attached itself, and that leech was none other than Mary.
Focusing on my Spark, I attempted to obstruct the dark "stream." Unfortunately, it was unsuccessful, perhaps due to my lack of knowledge on the matter - merely wishing for it wasn't sufficient. But how exactly was it done? Seizing the opportunity provided by my heightened awareness of my Spark, I tried to condense my aura through it, hoping to construct a spiritual barrier in the path of the "stream." To my surprise, I made some headway initially, despite never attempting something like this before. However, my triumph was fleeting. When, through an extraordinary mental exertion, I managed to slightly dampen the energy outflow, the "stream" abruptly intensified and retaliated. It felt as though someone had jabbed a taser right into my liver.
"How amusing," Mary chuckled, gazing upwards at me. "Carry on," she urged, her tone suggestive of support. "Fight back, try to break free! Come on, don't be like a sacrificial lamb, show some courage!"
Was she ridiculing me? Was she simply bored?
It didn't seem so.
Once again, I introspected and comprehended the situation. The more I resisted, the more vigorously my Spark functioned and radiated energy. Consequently, the energy outflow transmitted to Mary via the dark "stream" drastically amplified. That's why she was goading me; she benefited more when I made an effort to resist rather than accepting my fate. She might have even intentionally made my Spark more "visible," baiting me into action. Well, I don't care! Even if my resistance worked in her favor, it didn't mean I had to resign myself to fate and patiently await my doom. Even if this was her battleground and not mine, I still had to make an attempt. I had to take action - victory was impossible without it. If I waited passively, I'd surely lose. Although, even with resistance, there was a ninety-nine percent chance of defeat. But at least there was a sliver of a chance, and even if it was minuscule, I would die knowing I had given it my all.
Five of my attempts to stifle the "stream" had been fruitless. I had tried to constrict it like a tourniquet, construct a barrier, and even audaciously attempted to reverse the energy flow. The most I had achieved was another patronizing smile from the witch. In the meantime, Mary had finally finished preparing the ingredients and picked up a piece of chalk.
"Ugh!" She sighed heavily. "I've never liked this part." Her face contorted as if she had been forced to consume an unusually sour lemon. "Drawing... But without the correct lines, the proper ritual can't be constructed." She raised her index finger, and in a slightly altered voice, as if mocking someone, she proclaimed, "Alchemy is not only art but science too, my child!" Lifting her head, the Dark One surveyed us carefully. "Don't worry, only half an hour remains before the ritual commences. As soon as Antares aligns correctly in the sky, we'll begin!" Dropping her gaze, she looked at the chalk in her hand and sighed heavily: "I just have enough time to complete everything."
From her tone, one could assume that she genuinely cared about us. And it wasn't a pretense - she just perceived the world differently than we did. Other people were not equals to her, but rather seen as nourishment, tools, or at best, playthings. The way I might converse while preparing meat on a grill or in a pan, that's how she spoke to us. It made me understand El Cid better, who chose the rule of the shapeshifters. Because if the alternative was the reign of beings with such worldviews over the human race, then everything had been done correctly.
The internal struggle I was facing, trying to block the energy leakage from my Spark, was akin to a duel between a seasoned swordsman and a novice who had just picked up a sword for the first time - where I was the novice. Each of my actions was not only countered - they were deflected at the precise moment when I thought I was about to make a breakthrough. And they were deflected with an infuriating ease. Mary didn't even glance my way or look up from creating the intricate flower-like lines that the chalk in her hands traced on the veranda floor. To her, my duel, my fight, which I waged at the edge of my strength and abilities, was nothing more than a background process that didn't demand special attention.
I wondered about her Power rank. No doubt she was a formidable Seer, yet I didn't think she had reached the notorious level of Dark Lord, a rank equivalent to the revered title of Maker. Given time and experience, she'd undoubtedly attain it, but for now... Regardless, her current strength was more than enough to easily handle me, especially considering her expertise in Alchemy which was evident in her confident chalk strokes.
What could I possibly do to counter such an adversary, especially on her home turf? Essentially, nothing. My resistance was akin to a carp flopping in a frying pan. I might be able to thrash exceptionally, but it wouldn't save me from the inevitable searing. I knew I had to quit these futile attempts and strategize something genuinely effective. "Had to" was indeed the right word and "just do it" an apt phrase, except for one tiny detail: it's challenging to act effectively when you're clueless. So far, all my efforts had only amused the young witch, without altering the situation in the slightest.
If I had been wearing Metatron, theoretically, my armor should've shielded me from Mary's energy, unless I had drastically underestimated her power level.
Perhaps the projection technique could assist me, but it necessitated sensing the armor on oneself, visualizing in intricate detail that I was already clad in it. A crucial aspect of this was reproducing tactile sensations, which was currently impossible, considering I couldn't even feel my own body.
But having tried everything else, why not give this a shot? As Mary was engrossed in her drawing on the veranda floor, I attempted to meditate. However, despite my best efforts, it was futile; meditating in my current predicament proved to be a challenge, seemingly reserved for those who had practiced it for a lifetime. My attempts to detach from the situation and enter a meditative state were bluntly thwarted by the harsh reality.
Having squandered half of the half-hour Mary had granted us on unsuccessful attempts, I abandoned the conventional approach to meditation. Instead of fruitlessly struggling, only providing amusement for the witch, I paused to reassess the situation. I tried to sense my surroundings and, to my surprise, I made a discovery. My assumptions had been correct: the poison we'd been administered was a complex concoction, fully effective only when bolstered by the witch's dark energy.
What methods of resistance are available to me? The Break? It's closed off. I can't escape or engage in combat either - my body refuses to cooperate. Well, if something were to distract the Dark One... enough so that she would be forced to lift her energy pressure from us, I might be able to regain partial control over my body. But, even now, while she is fully engaged in her drawing, the energy pressure from the Dark adept remains consistent, giving me no room to maneuver.
The only avenue of struggle left for me is my Spark. Especially now, when I can sense it more distinctly than ever before, due to the witch's influence. Yes, I comprehend that this is a battlefield where my adversary is vastly superior, but what other options do I have? Unless I surrender and just wait resignedly for whatever fate has in store. Such passive waiting isn't my style, but with each passing minute, despair threatened to overwhelm me, much like treacherous quicksand.
Maya's unyielding spirit kept me from succumbing. The girl too was fighting, trying to free herself from her bindings or spit out her gag. Yes, like me, she wasn't having any success, but she wasn't giving up. Moreover, she had some freedom of movement, unlike us. Although she was still significantly weakened - to the point where every action was a struggle; in addition, the girl was securely tied up. Most likely, Claire and Christian are also striving to regain control over their bodies, but their efforts are invisible due to the paralysis.
Maya's gaze, which she was using to try and "burn" a hole into the witch's back, revived my desire to resist, which I felt I had almost lost. If she isn't giving up, then I have no moral right to do so either.
Shifting the focus of my attention inward, I immersed myself in the contemplation of my Spark. If not for the dark stream that clung to my energy core like a leech, siphoning away my energy, the Spark, which I was "seeing" with such clarity for the first time, was breathtakingly beautiful. It was like a small misty star burning deep within my chest. And the "fog" that it radiated, spreading throughout my body, nourished it with energy. These foggy waves were uneven: they formed powerful currents, barely noticeable threads, and even ephemeral whirlpools.
Following an odd feeling, I directed my attention to one of these foggy swirls. In response, the fog twitched as though someone had blown on a light cloud. As soon as I shifted the beam of my perception slightly to the side, the swirl reacted accordingly.
This strange "game" was so captivating and unusual that it momentarily distracted me from my predicament. Changing the focus of my attention, I first compressed the swirl into a dense foggy ball, then tried to mold it into a different shape. Unfortunately, this proved challenging. Forming a ball of fog was relatively easy; all it required was evenly "grasping" the swirl with your attention. But attempting something more complex proved nearly impossible. I could merely blow on the fog, unable to shape it as one would with clay.
Shifting my perception, I attempted to mold the swirl near the dark stream into something resembling a dam. Then, I planned to move this vague barrier to block the energy outflow. However, my plan crumbled at the first stage: theoretically, it might be possible to craft a dam from a cloud, but in practice, I significantly lacked the necessary skill.
Under the direction of my focused attention, the misty swirl adopted any random shape but not the one I desired. Just as clouds in the sky can morph into various forms due to air currents, reminding onlookers of different objects, so did my energy. Yet, time after time, I persevered, hoping that I might accidentally achieve something dam-like. But the fog seemed to deliberately taunt me. It adopted any form: a ball, a disk, a hand, a flower, even an elephant, but never the one I needed. I adjusted my level of attention, the breadth of my perception beam, the focus point - all these modifications yielded some results, but the problem was that to fully understand how it worked, I would require days, weeks, even months of strenuous training. This was fundamentally beyond my reach - such sensitivity to one's Spark is the domain of a Seer, and for me, this power rank is as remote as the Moon. And I didn't have days or weeks for all these experiments, but at best, ten minutes.
Despite the lack of better ideas, I persisted with my experiments even as Mary started the final third of her drawing. When the "fog" once again took the form of a bunny, I was so irate that the witch sensed it, giving me a thumbs up in validation. The Dark One evidently relished any intense emotions, particularly those such as anger, fury, or despair. Even I could feel how my anger outburst increased the energy flow along the dark stream.
Any other sensum in my position would likely have been drained by such an energy outflow. But the peculiarity of my Spark is that it partially compensated for the losses, replenishing the energy from the Break. Yes, this compensation was less than the losses, but I still hung on. Probably, it is this uniqueness that makes me so interesting to the witch. She receives much more energy through me than she would from any other Gifted of my level.
Suppressing my anger as effectively as I could, I once again "struck" the "fog" with a wave of attention. I "struck" it and barely managed to contain a surge of surprise that almost morphed into a cautious hope, which I couldn't afford since the witch would instantly sense this emotion. Having secured the result of the random "strike," I pulled the "fog" closer to the Spark and sent an additional thread of energy to it. As anticipated, the "fog" intensified due to the fresh supplement. And when I let go of the pressure, the cloud, having taken a form that sparked hope, began to expand in size.
Within a minute, I had accomplished my task. The once minuscule whirlwind, which had inadvertently taken the form of an armored bracer, teemed with energy and found its place, "cradling" my wrist in a foggy embrace. The entire process had taken no more than two minutes. Once the "bracer" was secure, I reached for the next clot of fog, already well-versed in what needed to be done and how. The predicament was that Metatron comprised fifteen parts, and Mary had no more than eight minutes until her drawing was complete. Chances were, I wouldn't be able to finish in time. However, I embarked on this race against the clock because it was the only glimmer of hope for salvation.