'The Sanctuary of the Kishin is located in the dead reaches of the Nevada desert. Though its exact location is unknown, rumours have it that anyone unfortunate enough to come within a certain distance to the area is overcome with a desire to travel to the Sanctuary and are also equipped with the knowledge to do so. What happened to them afterwards… no one I've spoken too seems to know or wants to speculate about.
The scholar in me feels compelled to at least approach the area to get a taste of what is like and record it for knowledge's sake. However, if I have learned one thing in my travels, and this is not limited to this continent, it is this:
There are things out there people are better off not knowing about.'
Mukta Chalaka, An Atlas of North American Cities
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
Chapter 10: Dungeons and Books
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
Liz's head hurt. A lot. Also, this was the umpteenth time she found herself face down in an unknown location.
"Fucking hell," the teen mumbled as she brought up a hand to massage a sore spot on her head. "This is getting ridiculous." What was this, the fourth time she's been knocked unconscious? "This day sucks."
The elder Thompson found herself surrounded by darkness. The only source of light was a faint orange glow, the source of it obstructed by a corner. When her vision eventually cleared, she saw the flame's glow reflect on a metallic surface extending from the wall's corner.
A cell.
She was in another goddamned cell.
The only thing that stopped Liz from verbalizing an apocalyptic torrent of expletives was her sister's voice coming from somewhere to her left.
"Ow…" a soft groan came, probably from the cell beside the older Thompson. "Sis, my head hurts…"
"Patty! Are you ok?"
"I've got an ouchie…"
Liz found herself growling, in a mix of desperation and anger. Her sister was in pain, there was nothing she could do, and worst of all, it was her fault. Her fault for trusting that stupid brat in the first place. Goddamnit, she was fine the way it was, why not just shoot the bastard after they were done with the caretakers-?
"Lizzie…?"
Her sister's voice distracted her from her mental rant. "Patty, how are you feeling?"
"My head hurts a bit…"
"Are you bleeding?"
"Nah," the younger sister drawled. "It's like when you've been sleeping for too long and you wake up suddenly and everything's groggy-"
Liz sighed in relief. "It's gonna be alright. Get some rest, ok?"
"Okay…" the younger teen mumbled.
Another groan came from the right. This one belonged to a male voice she'd come to know recently.
"Kiddo?" Patty asked. "Ay, you're alive!"
"Joy…" the older sister flatly said.
"My stomach," Kid hissed as Liz heard him attempting to sit up. A defeated thump indicated he instead settled for being face-up on the floor. "The stitches are still broken."
"Right," Liz said in the same flat tone.
"For crying out loud Elizabeth, don't say you're still mad at me-"
"It's Liz and fuck you-"
"Goddammit Liz," Kid hissed in pain, breaking off whatever he wanted to say.
"Look at that, little brat can swear," the older Thompson drawled.
"Sis, Kid's in pain…"
"I don't care. He's the one responsible for getting sliced up in the first place."
They spent the remaining time in silence, on opposite sides of their respective cells. The older Thompson kept her gaze on the corridor outside of her cell. She lay on the right side and towards the bars, Patty next to her. They couldn't reach each other, unfortunately. The first thought that had occurred to Liz was her or Patty transforming and shooting at the cell until it gave away, or until an unlucky guard passed through. No such luck.
Kid was sprawled on the left side of his cage and towards the back. He lay down flat on the ground, arms around his stomach as if trying to keep his guts from slipping out. His eyes were closed and his breaths swallow. The constant silence made the pain all the more obvious. Goodness knows how much his wounds had been infected right now…
Footsteps. Someone was heading their direction.
Liz shifted from her position, her hand reaching out for her sister who tried to stick her head between the bars to see who was coming. Kid remained motionless in the back of the prison. Two men came into sight.
One of them was the same stocky man she, Patty and…Kid had taken out when they first partnered up, only to face again and lose miserably. The memory felt like it had happened ages ago, yet it was less than a day old and already the sisters seemed to be Meister-less again. The other man, an elderly person dressed in heavy robes seemed faintly disinteresting to Liz. Despite his wrinkled face and a seemingly permanent frown, the only parts that that stood out were the extravagant robes he wore. They seemed to be of multiple layers and the colours were a dark variation of black, red and yellow.
The old man threw the teens a condescending look. Liz clenched her fists and scowled in response. She didn't like the old-timer already.
"These are the ones?" Upon hearing his gravely and ruff voice, Liz disliked him even more.
"Yes, sir," the stocky man deferred to the elder. Liz figured out that it was the old man who was in charge.
"Hm."
The old man stared at the sisters. Liz stared back, adding a sneer to the mix. Patty looked between the two.
Eventually, the man broke the staring contest, looking further into the cell. "And the boy…?"
"Laying down cause his stomach's doing the re-rendition of the parting of the red seas, with guts instead of water," Liz growled.
The stranger grimaced at the older Thompson.
"You got a problem, old man?"
"The disrespect-!"
"Is there someone-?" came Kid's faint voice, only for the teen to pause when he looked at the two people outside the cell. "Oh." The old man looked at Kid who completely ignored the elder, instead giving the stocky man a death glare. "Joe."
"Hey Kid."
The boy frowned at the man's casual tone. He shifted his attention to the other man. "Who's the fossil?"
"Watch your tongue, boy!"
"Or what? You'll make me regret it?" To the sister's hidden amusement, Kid's voice tone was surprisingly acidic. "I'm already bleeding from ten different places sir, one more won't make a difference."
"What is he talking about?"
"The boy has a nasty wound on the stomach and abdomen," Buttataki explained. "From what I could gather, these three fought against the Medusa's child."
The old man now looked mildly intrigued. "And survived?"
"Obviously," Kid muttered.
"Yes, but the boy apparently got impaled with the Demon Sword. His wound was sutured, but the stitches broke."
"So that is why he's bleeding in a corner like a pathetic rat."
Kid rolled his eyes. Liz thought it was appropriate since he did call the elder a 'fossil'.
"No matter. Prepare them for questioning. See if we can salvage anything from this new mess."
Liz frowned at the man's words. Whoever that elder was, he was in a managerial position, ranking over Joe. Secondly, it seemed that this Academy was not in the best of states; had the library assault cost them so much manpower?
It didn't matter. She just had to figure out a way to get herself and Patty out of this place, wherever it was.
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
"You're up first, Kid."
"You don't do handcuffs," the teen stated in confusion, as he noticed the lack of any restraints.
Joe gave him a deadpan look. "What are you going to do, bleed on me? Besides, you're in the catacombs. If you get lost here, you'll collapse from hunger long before you even find the exit."
Well. Kid couldn't argue against that.
The boy's first attempt to stand up did not go as planned. It would have been great if he was in a stage comedian in search for the lowest common denominator of comedy, but his intentions were the complete opposite. After a bit of fumbling and some jerky limbs, Kid made it on two legs, though that didn't mean he appeared to be stable on them.
Joe, the one responsible for escorting the boy, frowned at him in concern but a glare kept him at distance.
Despite his desire to appear somewhat in control, Kid only made it to the first turn across the convoluted mess of hallways, before he felt light-headed and almost walked into a wall.
The man only let out a small sigh, as he stopped and turned to the teen.
"Need some help, buddy?"
"I'm fine," Kid said, leaning on the wall for support while his hands wrapped around his stomach. "And I'm not your friend, nor are you mine."
Joe frowned. "I'm just offering help, no need to bite my head off," he said, reaching out at the boy.
Kid slapped -or more accurately, lightly pushed- the hand away. "Thank you," he uttered sarcastically, "but I don't need your help."
The man put both hands on his hip, giving the boy a disapproving look. "You still mad at me?"
Kid let out a small grunt as he moved away from the wall. One hand was still clutching his bloody shirt while the other was tightened in a fist. "Just get me to wherever I'm supposed to be. I doubt the old man would approve of your empathy."
"Fine, be difficult." Joe sighed. "Whatever floats your boat, I guess."
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
It was about twenty minutes later, after a number of twists and turns in the dungeons –for that was where they probably were, if the stone walls and sparse light were of any indication- they arrived at the destination. The room was bare, save for an old wooden table and two chairs. A naked light-bulb provided the room with some light, but the dust tinted everything orange.
"You're late."
"Sir, the boy is still injured. He can't walk very fast."
The elder man huffed. "Excuses."
Meanwhile, Kid made a wobbly beeline for the empty chair, neatly collapsing on it. However, this caused the elder to focus on the teen.
"As for you, child..." the man said as he stood up from across the table, towering over the boy. "You have some explaining to do."
Kid didn't answer, still clutching at his wound. The room felt uncomfortable, the air heavy. And there was something… something beneath them. A presence. Whatever it was, he couldn't see it clearly and it was giving him a headache.
"Your little shenanigans have cost the Academy quite a bit of manpower. You can imagine my patience is running thin, child."
The teen didn't reply. His hand was still clutching his side. A thin trail of blood was making its way down his side and onto the chair. It wasn't just the headache. Ever since he woke up at that mad scientist's lab, Kid had been clumsier than usual, tripping and feeling a bit uncoordinated. It had only gotten worse after he met the scientist for the second time, in the wannabe-Antarctica mortuary. Even now, when he was coming to this room, he'd stumbled on nothing.
…It was like he was five all over again.
The elder must have taken Kid's unresponsiveness for something else entirely. "Good Lord- Joe, go get some bandages! The last thing I need is the boy passing out because of blood loss!"
To the man's credit, Joe went out of the room and came back with medical supplies fairly quickly.
Kid hissed as his once-white shirt had to be literally peeled off him, the dried blood acting as an adhesive between the cloth and his skin.
"Oh crap," Joe muttered under his breath.
"What?" Kid murmured, having closed his eyes from the disorientation.
"How the hell are you still conscious?"
"It's a neat party trick," Kid shot back at the man.
Joe looked down on the small bottle of ointment. "Antiseptic's not gonna cut it for this one." He turned to the elder man. "He'll need stitches."
"That can be arranged later," the man said.
"Right... I guess I'll just dress the wound for now…"
A bandage was hastily wrapped against the wound which was still bleeding, but at a lower rate than before. Though it did not stop the constant pain coming from the area, Kid felt it a bit more protected. Maybe it was a placebo effect, he didn't care; any sort of relief was welcome at this point.
"Let's get to the point." Of course, the old man did not show any type of concern. Good, that would mean Kid wouldn't feel any hesitation when he eventually got the chance to punch him. "It seems that you and another girl were present at the library at the time of our raid. Not only that, but you actively worked against us, acquiring a very important… item."
"…This is about the book and the notes, isn't it?"
"I will be honest." He placed a familiar book on the table, looking just as heavy and ominous the first time Kid had glanced at it at the Library. "We are looking for the notes, child."
Kid frowned. "You already have the book."
"And?"
"…Why would you need the notes?" Maybe he could turn this around and acquire some information. "Do they say something the book doesn't?"
"And how would you know what the Book and notes say, child?"
Kid frowned. "Let's not pretend. I had the Book. I took a peak."
"At the Book?" the older man said pointedly.
"Yes."
"How much did you read?"
"Not much, so I don't know why you're so interested…?" Kid paused at their increasingly disbelieving expressions.
"…You can read the Book?!" Buttataki blurted out.
"Joe, be silent," the man hissed.
Kid just realised his mistake too late. He clamped his mouth shut yet the damage had already been done.
The elder took out a piece of paper and scribbled a symbol into it.
"What does this symbol mean?"
"I don't know what that symbol is," the teen quickly said, not even bothering with looking at the symbol. "I was bluffing about before-" That excuse was weak, and they all knew it.
There was a swish, and a knife was embedded a few centimetres away from Kid's bound hands. The boy jumped in surprise and backed up as much as the seat would allow him.
"The next will go straight through your wrist, child."
Kid gulped. Ok, that was actually intimidating.
The elder gestured towards the paper. "Translate this to me, child."
What to do… Worst case scenario, he could fuddle the translations, right? No one would know except him.
Should he lie about this symbol? Probably not, they already know its meaning. If he did, that could potentially reveal his ploy to trick them in the future. Alternatively, it could mean that Kid was indeed bluffing.
"What if I give a wrong answer?"
"Then… you would be of no use to the Academy. And you will be disposed." The elder gestured at the knife.
Kid nodded hesitantly in understanding. Plan A it was. Fuck him sideways. Just what the hell had he gotten himself into?
Gulping, Kid looked at the symbol. It looked like a sideways eight superimposed on all possible degrees. Unsurprisingly, he recognised the scribble's meaning almost immediately, as one does when seeing a simple word.
"It means… 'Great Old Ones…?" The meaning itself… Nothing sprang to mind, but a chill went down his spine.
Joe gave the Kid and then the elder a wide-eyed look. To the older man's credit, he composed himself before addressing the boy. "…Correct."
Silence loomed over the three. Joe frowned and looked backed and forth the elder man and Kid. As for the teen, Kid took a small gulp, still focused on the symbol.
"Who are you, child?" the elder eventually said.
The boy raised his head to look at the man. "What do you mean?"
"Where do you come from? How do you know this language?"
"…My name is Kid."
"I find hard to believe that parents would name their child something like that."
"I'm not lying." Kid did his best to suppress any hint of nervousness.
"Your family?"
"I'm adopted."
"What about your biological family?"
Kid shrugged his shoulders.
"You have not met them? At what age were you separated?"
"Young."
"So no memories?"
In normal circumstances, Kid found it tedious to talk about family whenever it was brought up. It usually went the same route as it had gone now. The pity he occasionally received was unneeded at most. Kid was fine with the family he had grown up with. Of course, he was facing a homicidal elder right now, so his answer was less than articulate. "No."
"Ah, this is infuriating."
The next few questions were of a similar calibre. The old man was very interested in Kid's ancestry, though the boy made it clear he had no knowledge of it. Finally, with a frustrated wave of the hand and harshly spoken words, Kid was escorted back to his cell, only for Liz and Patty to be taken out. During that time, Kid rested. His dressed wound felt much better and was not bleeding anymore.
It was much later during the night that Liz and Patty showed up, with Buttataki as their guard. The older Thompson gave him a venomous glare, before scooting down on the opposite side of the cell with her sister. Jo closed and locked the cell doors, and made his way out, the light fading away until the whole dungeon was submerged in darkness again.
Neither party slept well that night.
\*~*~*~*Many Years Ago~*~*~*~*/
It was noon. The sun was high above bland concrete buildings, structures still in development. Steel pipes and sacks of cement mixture were scattered at the centre of the 'neighbourhood'. Said centre was but flat-pressed ground, no pavement in sight, with weeds and other hardy plants growing in sort bursts across it. Yet, despite the potentially hazardous building equipment and sweltering sun above the makeshift 'square', young kids played around with no care in the world. Most had formed cliques of peers with whom they played small-scale games like hopscotch. One large group had managed to get a solid round of hide-and-seek going. Yet a smaller number of children were alone, entertaining themselves. A young blonde boy got up from his fifth attempt of trying to stay on a bicycle for more than ten seconds. A skinny preteen girl was arranging rocks in different patterns on the ground.
And a certain black-haired young boy was sitting on a makeshift seat made up of some extra bricks against a half-built concrete wall, away from the sun, close to where some of the aforementioned builders were keeping an eye out for the children.
"Hey, Kid!"
The boy whipped his head to the source of the sound.
A short but well-built woman stood over him. Her blond hair was tied to a knot and held back by a flowery bandana, speckled in dust and dirt. The same could be said for her clothes, a pair of baggy grey pants and a nondescript T-shirt.
Kid gave a small smile and a wave to the familiar woman. After all, Marie was the closest thing he had to a family, as it was with Azusa who, he noted after looking a few meters behind the Scandinavian woman, was downing down bottles of water like she'd just been rescued from the Sahara desert.
"What's up?" the blonde woman cheerfully asked. "Why are you here alone?"
The child shrugged. His shoulders jerked awkwardly.
Marie gave him a patient smile and sat on her knees so she was an eye level. "You don't wanna play with the other kids?"
"I'm ok," Kid said, his voice soft but raspy.
"Hide-n'-Seek Championship!" Their attention was taken by a buck-toothed boy who'd climbed the brick pile in the middle of the square. He had fuzzy red hear covering his eyes, but proudly displaying his wide smile. "Listen up y'all!"
"Oh!" Marie clapped her hands in delight. "You should go and play, Kid!"
The boy looked away and made a non-committal sound.
"Aw, come on, don't be like that!" The boy gave another non-committal answer, this time fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "One time?" Marie playfully pleaded. "For me, please?"
The boy lightly groaned. "...ok..."
The woman gave him a triumphant smile before bringing the boy close for a hug. "It'll be fun!" Marie playfully rustled Kid's hair. "Go kick their buts-!" She cut herself off. "Don't actually. It's just hide-n-seek."
"Ok," the boy said with more conviction as he disentangled himself from Marie's hold.
As Kid walked towards the gathering, he passed by his second guardian, Azusa. She was drenched in sweat and looking more miserable than a wet dog, but she managed to give the boy a small wave as he walked by her. Kid reciprocated the gesture.
Eventually, he made it to the centre where most of the kids were gathered. Almost every child was there, save for a small boy being scolded by a builder who was probably his dad, and the waifish girl now arranging rocks in a cyclical pattern.
"Yo! What's your name, new guy?" Kid was immediately confronted by a boy almost twice his size. He was visibly older than him, though his uncut blonde hair made the stranger look more childish.
"Kid," the shorter child replied in a low tone.
The older boy paused and gave him a puzzled looked. "Really?"
Kid nodded.
The blonde regarded Kid for a moment before shrugging to himself. He turned around, now facing the bulk of the gathered children. "Ok, y'all!" He shouted, "lemme say everyone's names, so ya know who yer tagging!"
The boy rattled off the names while pointing to an individual to show which name belonged to whom. Surprisingly, he remembered everyone's names correctly, which was a feat for an 11-year-old and a gathering of about 25 people.
After about ten more minutes of aimless shenanigans and lots of miscommunication, the game was underway. Using the sophisticated method of 'Eeny, meeny, miny, moe' the 'it' was a bulky girl with short brown hair. She gave the crowd a look of despair before resigning to her fate, spun around until she was facing the pole and began counting.
"5, 10, 15..."
The children scattered in all directions like teens in a police-raided party. Some, due to lack of experience, or maybe sheer naivety, chose obvious spots, like hiding behind poles or laying down next to a steel beam. Others were more creative, like employing half-used material to build 'innocent' pile of rubble or even hiding where the builders where gathered. One entertaining soul ran to his mom and they basically exchanged clothes, right down to an elaborately held together hijab.
As for Kid, he had no grandiose ambitions. He ran to the foundations of a half-built building, in the corner closest to the guard post, so that way he'd be close to it. As for seeing the girl leave, he didn't need to outright see her. Just her soul.
A small smile crossed Kid's face. This was a chance to practice his secret ability, as he'd taken to calling it.
"40, 45, 50..."
He'd figured out most other kids didn't have this ability. At first he thought it was strange, but he'd come across to accept it as something that simply 'was'. Azusa and Marie also didn't seem to mind; they were hesitant at first, but Marie soon got excited, whereas Azusa gave him plenty of helpful advice, first and foremost being 'watch your step so you don't bump into a wall.'
"65, 70, 75..."
Besides, that wouldn't be the first time his body did weird stuff. Kid had extremely poor eye-to-hand coordination, and sometimes it felt like he was operating his body through some unintelligible middle party. It'd gotten better as the years passed and he grew older. However; as small patches of dirt and pulled weaves on his shirt revealed, he was nowhere near as balanced.
He also tended not to use his voice much. It didn't physically hurt, but whenever he heard himself speak it felt... wrong. Like he was using someone else's vocal cords. But Kid had heard his voice would change when he grew up and he was looking forward to it. If he had to pick a favourite voice, he'd go with Brandon's, a middle-aged jolly builder. He had a deep voice, but unlike some of the other men here, his voice never felt threatening or maybe it was that Brandon himself was not a hostile man. Whatever. He had a nice voice.
"...90, 95, 100!"
Any chatter immediately died down, as the area became deadly quiet -save for the adults watching the whole thing in amusement. Kid heard shoes against gravel, as the keeper hesitantly stepped forwards, still double checking her environment.
This was it. Kid's normal vision was partially obscured as several technicolour orbs materialised in his field of view, each representing a soul. He couldn't see the colours very well, and the orbs looked like they'd been smudged with extreme prejudice. It was way better than going blind though.
Several minutes passed. In those, three people were caught, one girl managed to get herself safe, whereas there was an intense argument between a boy who claimed the girl had pronounced his name wrong and nearly ended in a wrestling match. After an almost reenaction of one of Undertaker's finishers, the keeper girl had grown more reckless and ventured further away from her post.
Yes! There was his opportunity! He bent down, ready to dash around the corner...
The sole of his foot slipped, resulting in tangled legs and the boy found himself face down on the dirt, with a dull throb on his right palm.
Kid looked up. On the edge of a half-built wall, a protruding rusted metal rod was flaked with a dark red liquid.
The boy slowly brought himself up and examined the wound. It was kinda deep, it throbbed and there was a lot of bleeding. His palm was covered in the red substance.
The teen let out a small hiss as he applied pressure to the wound. He should tell Azusa and Marie about this. Betty, a girl a few years older than him, had gotten a scratch from a rusted nail and she ended up getting very sick... Kid hadn't seen her since.
He also had to get to them fast. Kid's wounds differed from the norm. Who knows? Maybe he could mention his guardians how he healed faster than most, the same way he'd told them about his ability to see souls-
"Ha! I got ya!"
He looked up to see the keeper girl eyeing with a look of satisfaction as she ran to her post. In his distracted state, the boy hadn't noticed he'd walked out of his hiding place and into the open. Kid frowned and shook his head.
"I'm hurt."
The girl's expression fell and she stomped her foot. "That's totally unfair! What happened?!"
"…Scratch," Kid mumbled as he held out his hand.
The girl grimaced when she looked at the boy's bloodied palm. "That don't look like a normal scratch."
"It's not serious."
She huffed and crossed her arms. "Whatever. I give you a free pass, but just because I'm doing good so far, ok?"
Kid nodded with the slightest hint of annoyance at the girl's behaviour. If he hadn't slipped, he would have to the post first and declare himself safe. Instead, the boy walked away and towards his guardians. He saw Azusa sprawled next to a wall for cover, a wet towel over her head, while Marie was merrily chatting with the now Hijab-less woman. Azusa seemed to sense his approach, as she took the towel off her head and gazed at the boy. She noticed the red over Kid's right hand, and her eyes narrowed in concern.
A scream resounded through the impromptu sandlot.
The world around Kid became a whirlwind of movement, and he was now behind Azusa and Marie, specifically right behind Azusa's thigh. The brunette placed a hand on Kid's shoulders, barely reaching him due to the child's short height.
There was a haggard looking woman, with a deep semi-healed wound on her shoulder. Kid remembered her from a few days ago. Apparently, she'd been heavily injured, but miraculously recovered, and today was her first day of coming back.
"Tina," Marie asked, "what's wrong-?"
"He- whatever the hell he is wrong! I saw him! I saw him, I tell you!" She whipped her head maniacally. "He's the one that did this to me!" She was frantically pointing at a stocky man sitting alone. Brendon.
"Saw what ya screaming harpy?!" A lanky man yelled as he waved around his half-eaten sandwich.
"I saw it! That's why I was attacked! I saw it doing it… Eating-" the shrill-voiced woman shivered, hugging herself for comfort. "Eating a soul!"
There was silence. Kid found himself pushed behind by Azusa, as Marie stepped in front of them. The boy watched from behind his guardians.
"W-what?" The Muslim lady stuttered as she backed away from the man, hiding her son from view.
"B-Brendon?" The lanky man with the half-eaten sandwich said as he stepped forwards. "What the hell…?"
Kid frowned. Brendon was a bad guy? In a way, it made sense. The employers didn't check who they hired as long as they were fit for the job. Marie had the upper body strength, whereas Azusa functioned as her team's brain, ensuring they were working at maximum efficiency. But that also meant all kinds of people were working at the site.
"Oi, that's not true, right man? We've known each other since we were snot-faced brats. I know ya man. You don't do stupid... Or bad."
Brendon did not respond. The people had now formed a circle around him.
"Say something, man!"
The man remained motionless. "For my daughter... had to be strong…"
Kid looked at the skinny girl a few meters away. Her rocks were now chaotically strewn as she stood up and looked fearfully at the crowd, her back against the wall. Still the boy had his doubts. The man usually was jovial, and occasionally brought candy for the children. But lately he'd been acting strange….
Maybe if Kid used his Soul Perception… Marie and Azusa had said corrupt souls look very different from human ones…. Kid took a deep breath and focused. Maybe he could use his Soul Perception to get to the truth…
The boy's breath hitched. It was red, the soul was a deep blood red. It monstrously pulsated with corrupt power, like a heart gone horribly, terrifyingly wrong.
As if in slow motion the man's eyes went red, as his jaw unhinged revealing rows of serrated teeth. People around them panicked and fled. Kid felt himself being dragged away, but the boy did not willingly move. At that single moment something stirred inside him, a primal feeling the boy had never experienced before.
Fear.
He felt himself shoved and pressed into something soft. He looked up to see Azusa had tightened her embrace. From the sides, Marie's hand seemed to glow, but Kid couldn't get a very good look. They were in some kind of cover, as they were in the shade. There were yells screams and the area was filled with the cacophony of desperate battle.
This went on for some time. How much Kid did not know, as was held securely in place by Azusa. He did not see Marie, but sensed her soul was close. Eventually, the sounds of the battle and terror died down. Some people were moaning in pain. Dust had filled the air. Azusa slowly relaxed her grip on Kid, until the two made it out of their cover to see the aftermath.
It was not a pretty sight. A huge steel pipe was poking out of the man's –if one could still have called that distorted figure human- stomach. The sickly-looking girl was nowhere to be seen.
The next few moments were surreal. People gathered around the fallen creature hesitantly, and ready to run at the slightest provocation. One person had said good riddance. Another threw a rock at the body. And all around there were questions. How? Why did it happen? Where there any signs-?
A burly woman took a brave step forwards and marched right up to the fallen Kishin Eggs. Her tanned skinned was marred by countless scars, yet her powerful figure overcame any signs of weakness, such as her slight limp.
"First and easiest way to see if someone is corrupted," The woman's commanding voice shook Kid out of his stupor, to see her slicing the Kishin Egg's forearm. The cut was deep and Kid was reminded of his own sliced palm. "Create a wound." she paused. As if magically, the torn flesh pulled itself back together under many fearful gasps. The woman looked up, her face a sombre mask. "Humans don't heal that fast."
"They say, that whatever happened ten years ago sealed our fate! That we'd all go mad! Well, I say they're wrong! People have been organised and build communities in this continent before whatever the hell happened 800 years ago! We're no different! Humanity will persevere!"
What followed was a cacophony of encouraging yells soon accompanied by witty slogans and battle cries. The people vowed they wouldn't be weak… they wouldn't reduce themselves to the worst kind of parasite. Most of them would fail. After all, it wasn't humans versus monsters. It was one's self versus their desire for power.
But for a young black haired boy, none of that mattered. Because at that moment, Kid looked down at his own bloodied palm.
There was no wound.
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
Beta'd by Sakura23165. Feedback is appreciated.