Oliver winced as his head spun, a fogginess in his mind that stopped the world from making any bit of sense to him. He didn't know why, but despite his current daze, a lingering feeling of urgency poked at him, telling him to get up. He suppressed the feeling as he cracked an eye open and looked around, but found himself in an unfamiliar space.
He was sitting, legs-out on the dusty, rubble-littered floor of an unlit room. The walls and floor were made of stone, a fact confirmed by the feeling of the hard surface pressed flat against his back. It was small, claustrophobic, and cold. The only light source filtered in from between the iron bars of a metal door on one side of the room. Was that…a cell door? 'What the hell? Where…'
His train of thought slowed as he noticed a muffled pitter-patter emanating from the ceiling above him. There was no pattern to the sound, but it reminded him of—
'Rain…?'
He stopped, the word invoking some memory. 'Right. There was a storm the other night, and looks like it's still going on. Ugh, when did I fall asleep? What else happened?' His eyebrows slowly furrowed as he thought. 'Arthur wanted to talk with me about something so we went to his tent. But then…'
Then Vhesla appeared.
Oliver's mind went numb as he remembered. He remembered the hard, torrential rains that came down, blanketing the region in swirls of darkness. He remembered the orange glow of the blazing debris that had once been Arthur's tent. He remembered how loud the rain was, so loud he couldn't even hear the fire, let alone his own thoughts. Then he saw Arthur standing alone in the darkness, only for him to be torn to pieces.
Oliver's eyes clenched shut in tandem with his fists and his jaw. When he saw the blood and the way Arthur spiraled into the ground, his mind had gone completely blank. He'd been in complete shock. He did nothing to help when Arthur went still. He did nothing but sit and stare as the man that tried to save him was mutilated right before his eyes.
'Oh no…'
Then Vhesla, the lovely succubus he knew to be his mentor, a person adored by many, darted from the skies and landed on him in a straddle. He knew it had been her who landed upon him, her who had been the one to attack them. Her voice was unforgettable, even as the rain had blinded him from seeing her face.
He knew what he saw and heard—he knew for certain that everything he witnessed was real for how hard the scene had been burned into his brain. And yet, a large part of him sat in denial. 'No…that can't be what happened, right? That wasn't real. Vhesla…Vhesla would never! She's a harmless succubus!'
His surroundings proved otherwise, though. The fact that he wasn't in his tent, but rather what was obviously a prisoner's cell, told him that whatever happened when he was last awake had not been a figment of his imagination. That, and he knew he wasn't dreaming. The air was stiff and cold, biting at his skin in a way no dream could possibly emulate. This was real.
'Vhesla, no…' In the end, he realized what she had done. Vhesla, the succubus who taught him what he now knew about magic, the succubus that had been so friendly and forthcoming that everyone seemed to like her, had murdered Arthur.
'How could this happen?' Had the signs always been there? How did he not see it coming?
"Actually…I think there's a couple things I could still teach you. Call it a reward for being such a good student."
Oliver's gut twisted into knots. Everything hurt.
'What is this…?' She'd captivated him with everything she had—with such a pretty face, a flawlessly beautiful body, and a forward personality. But…was that personality all a lie? An act? Was every gleaming smile or encouraging cheer she gave him fake? A facade for everyone to see?
Because if so, he took the bait hard. He thought she'd been so cool and nice and interesting…
"Meet me at my tent. Just before dinner tonight. Don't be late, 'kay~?"
Then she went and said those things to him, and his heart was thrown into conflict. 'Why even toy with my feelings with a honey trap like that? You could've just asked for help and I would have come!'
His eyes stung, and the realization of what his anger was directed towards made his fists clench harder. 'That's what you're mad about, you fuck? What is WRONG with you? She killed Arthur!' His vision blurred as his eyes grew wet. 'Shit…'
Why? Why did she even decide to teach him? Why did she even put up with his nagging for her knowledge if she was going to do what she did? Did she enjoy the despair? Was it all just fun and games for her?
And where was this? Where did she bring him? Why had she decided to spare him and not Arthur!?
Oliver hugged his hands around his knees and pulled them in close as he began to shake, burying his face in them. 'Arthur…shit.'
And what about everyone else? What about Anchorage? Had she done something to everyone else too? Why would she? She wouldn't have had anything to gain by killing everyone. But then she'd killed Arthur so easily. Who's to say that she didn't kill anyone else just because she could. 'I don't…I don't know. I don't know! I don't know!'
Who was she? Who was Vhesla? Was that even her real name? He'd trusted her. It'd only been a week-and-a-half, and he'd trusted her so fully. Was it because of her projected kindness? Was it because she'd been ready and willing to teach him? Was it because she was so charming and attractive, she made him nervous? The thought made him physically ill.
'I can't…' His teeth ground together, and he couldn't hold back a sobbing wheeze, the sound a mix of anger, betrayal, fear, and sorrow. 'Shit!'
He couldn't believe it. Any of it. Eleven days into this new world. This cursed fucking world. Eleven days was all it took to make budding friendships, learn so many new things. And not even a minute for it all to be torn down—just a moment for his journey to come to an end.
His thoughts began to spiral as he realized his situation more and more. He couldn't get the image of the blood out of his mind, and the claustrophobic walls of the cell began to weigh on him. Yet, at that moment, all he could think of was home.
"I had everything…" he muttered to himself. "I had fucking everything. I did it all right. I learned everything, blasted my way through school. I had a career ahead of me. I could've had a good fucking life…so why? Why am I here?" Why did he have to experience this pain and misery? Was it really all just pure bad luck that he'd been dragged to another world? At the wrong place, at the wrong time? He glared upwards at the ceiling.
"If there is a god up there who brought me here, now's the time to fucking show yourself," he ground out.
There was no response. Maybe it was selfish of him to think that things should have been going his way. He'd been so cautious though. He told himself the risks, he knew how insane trying to survive in a world like this was going to be. Maybe it was because he'd acknowledged those risks, he thought he'd be invincible. Maybe he just never considered to accept the possibility that he would lose…
Oliver's face fell back down to his knees as he began to cry, a dark curtain falling over his thoughts. He found his foot bouncing rhythmically. Stuck in the darkness of a cell, the images of death so clear in his mind, he started to crack.
'I'm sorry… Fuck! I'm sorry! Mom. Dad. You'll never see me reach the heights you wanted, but…at least you won't have to see what happens now…Make sure to take care of them Judy. Allison.' He thought about his friends and what they would think. 'Daniel…I guess I'll never get to give you those hundred push-ups I owe you for that poker game…Edward, take care of that Satisfactory world will you? You'll be managing on your own from now on…Kim, I wanted to see you and Ashley get married. Best of luck to you two…Emma, make sure to get that cs degree. Maybe you can make it up for the two of us…"
His jaw went numb with how hard he clenched it. 'Fuck! It's over. It's all over. I'm gonna die alone here. I'm gonna die all alone, and nobody will ever know.' It was ironic. A part of him wanted to laugh. A younger, more depressed version of himself was going to be right. He was going to die alone. Unheard and unloved. 'And I'm dying a virgin too. Fuck me, I covered all the bases back then. I fucking—huh?'
Something cut through his downward spiral into self-loathing. It was something integral to him, a warm part of his existence he could no longer live without. 'What was…my mana!'
He stopped, trying to still his beating heart. The claustrophobic room pressed on his nerves, but he pushed back when he realized just what he'd been doing. 'No. No no no no—the fuck was that end-of-the-line shit I was thinking just now?'
What in the actual fuck had he been thinking just now!? It wasn't over, not yet. Far from it, in fact. He wasn't dead yet, and he didn't need to be. He was still alive, so there was still hope.
How could the death of one person and the lies of another pushed him so far? All the way to the brink of suicidal depression? Two people he'd known for no more than two. Fucking. Weeks. How could this have affected him so much? He didn't think he was a bad person, but realistically, should he be feeling what he currently was when he barely knew anyone involved?
'What's been wrong with me recently? I gotta get my shit together!' He had to stop. He had to think and find a way to understand and control his situation. Oliver tried to push his writhing emotions down and slow his breathing. 'Now is not the time to cry my eyes out.'
He recalled the thoughts he'd had on his second day in this world, the resolve he culminated as he determined to himself that mindset mattered. He needed to quit it with the self-destructive thoughts and push on.
Where there's a will, there's a way, and thankfully, it was his mana that reminded him of that notion. Ironically, it was Vhesla that had taught him how to use it. 'Fuck off. I almost gave up just then. I can't. I should go home. See them all for myself. I still have so much unfinished business. A life to live.'
His body shuddered, his breathing hitching over and over again with every breath, almost choking him with his own tears, but mentally he roared at himself to calm down and think.
Clearly, whatever Vhesla wanted from him, she needed him alive to get it. Maybe he could use that somehow? And if he couldn't, he could still attempt to escape. He just needed to wait for the right time.
He wanted so desperately to figure out what happened. Why it happened. Who Vhesla really was. But that wasn't a priority. Right now, it was survival.
The young graduate attempted to call upon his mana to produce some light. He didn't expect for it to be immediately stone-walled, frozen in place by some external force. 'What?'
He raised his arms to eye level. Only then did he realize his hands had been cuffed. 'How did I not notice these before!?'
Maybe it was because he'd been having an emotional breakdown. One he still deeply desired to continue, if the shakiness in his breath and the tears streaming down his face were any indication.
The pair of cuffs were made of metal, and had some unidentifiable runes engraved on them. 'Fuck. Magic bullshit.'
Slowly, Oliver got to his feet, shaking slightly. He surveyed the room again, but found nothing new. Just small dunes of dust that filled up the corners of the room, and piles of rubble. Was he in an abandoned building of some kind? It was in an obvious state of disrepair, what with the crumbling walls and ceiling he just noticed. He looked down at himself. He was still wearing everything he'd last been wearing, but his gun and ammunition were gone. 'Figures.'
He turned to the cell door instead. He could still hear voices discussing, and only then did he come to the horrifying realization that Vhesla might not have been working alone. Was she out there discussing with her husband?
Did she even have a husband…?
He trudged over quietly, trying not to think about the lies that she'd spun. Through the bars, he could see a dilapidated stone hallway, but not much in either direction. The voices however, grew loud enough for him to understand. He also heard the crackling of a fire.
'A fire indoors?' He shook his head. Nevermind that, he needed to listen in.
"—definitely a stretch to say that, but fine, I'll keep my word. Not much else to get excited about these days anyway," a low, unrecognizable male voice grumbled. Oliver frowned at how it sounded, like it belonged to a grizzled old war veteran. "So, Elle, was it? This was your first op, no? What'd you think?"
It took a second for Oliver to realize that the man who spoke was now addressing a second person that wasn't Vhesla, which meant that there were at least three unfamiliar people out there. 'So she isn't working alone!'
"Well…I guess it wasn't what I expected," a young, down-trodden female voice of not-Vhesla replied. "It was my first time taking a life…multiple lives. I…I don't know how to feel. Those settlers were just so…defenseless."
As the woman spoke, unwitting of Oliver's wakefulness, the young graduate's heart dropped. 'Is she talking about Anchorage? No…they killed everybody?'
"You'll get used to it," the old grizzled voice spoke again, seemingly brushing 'Elle's' concerns aside. "Death is just a part of life. You just need to remember that here, it's all for the greater good. With their sacrifice, one day we'll have a better world, a brighter future. You're doing the right thing, so try not to lose sleep over it."
That man…he spoke so casually, so carefree about the murder of an entire village worth of people. People that had been his friends. People he'd laughed and joked with, people he enjoyed games of volleyball with! Oliver's teeth clenched so hard they hurt, feeling as if they were on the verge of cracking. 'Greater good? Greater. Fucking. Good? This has to be a joke…'
A silent rage began to boil inside him. The heat of his emotions almost made him miss the next part of the conversation.
"Alright," the young woman conceded, her voice sounding no less down-trodden than before. "It's just…that town—if you can even call it that…I thought we'd have more of a challenge to face. Only those two sentinels put up much of a fight, but even we managed to take them down."
'Even Layla and Natalie? No way!' Oliver's eyes widened. He remembered the fight he'd witnessed. Layla had divided a several-ton rock in two with ease, and both she and Natalie displayed frankly ridiculous levels of speed and acrobatics that would put any world-class athlete back on Earth to shame. And these guys, whoever they were, managed to defeat those girls? Suddenly his chances of escape were starting to dwindle.
"Well Elle, first of all, those sentinels were only students, First-years at that. Second, Anchorage was weakly-defended because it was an inside job," Another unfamiliar male voice that spoke this time. This one sounded young and pensive. "The planning took months, but the results are pretty genius in my opinion."
'What?'
"Really? What do you mean?"
There was a short pause in the conversation that had Oliver's fists clenching in anticipation, but soon the man spoke again.
"You've heard about Operation: Manifest Expansion, haven't you? Basically, it was the Gallant Region's big plan to expand its territories north and west with five new towns. Those towns were planned to eventually become major cities within a decade, paving the way for a domestic trade network so strong it would make Valor the most self-sufficient country in the world, which of course, would allow it to expand its borders even farther. That's a problem for us, because the farther north they expand, the higher the risk they discover our operations. We could lose valuable assets."
Oliver's brows furrowed as he listened in, clinging on to every word the unknown man was saying. 'What? What operations?'
"Naturally, it was in our best interests to somehow stop the operation from going forward, but we had to be smart. Attacking a bunch of state-sponsored towns that would no doubt be lined with guards armed to the teeth? Out of the question. Even if we managed to deal significant damage, we risked too much in revealing our existence to the world. We don't have the manpower to attack a country yet—hell not even a major city on our own. So instead of directly attacking those towns, we figured why not let the forces of nature do it for us? Lure some Chaos and Distorted into the build-sites to delay construction and maybe even halt the operation if we're lucky, and while we're doing that—since we had plenty of time on our hands, why not plant a spy that could siphon funds away from the project and direct them towards our own operations? So we did just that. But therein laid another problem: we could only siphon funds so quickly without anyone noticing, and by the time Valor would actually get to building the towns, only one would be put out of commission."
"You mean…Anchorage?"
"That's right."
'What…Wait. But then why…?'
"But…if we managed to siphon away enough money to stop a town from being built, then why did Valor send all of those settlers out?"
Oliver ignored the fact that the woman, Elle, was asking the same questions he was wondering. 'Yeah. Why would they?'
"Here's the neat part. They wouldn't."
"Huh?"
"Yep. You see, while we were planning this, one of our strategists realized that we could plant a…political time bomb of sorts. Say…who do you think the citizens of Valor would blame if a state-sponsored group of civilian settlers was sent out into a gray zone with pretty much no protection at all, just for all of those innocent settlers to get annihilated."
'...Oh shit!' Oliver's eyes widened as he heard Elle also gasp in realization.
"Now you get it," the pensive man continued. "Imagine the political explosion Valor's leaders would have to face. All we had to do was plant some forged evidence of funding embezzlement by select politicians, and it'd plant a seed of deep mistrust between the public and parts of the government. Accusations of incompetency and greed would smear their reputations across the floor."
"...Holy crap."
"Once we put the full plan in motion, all our little insider had to do was pull some strings, leak the evidence, then get out of there. Suddenly, Anchorage, despite having practically no budget, is being built anyway, and by a bunch of innocent civilians nonetheless. And, since Anchorage would be left so terribly defended, it would be easy to tear it all down. Everyone would just blame it on Chaos or the Distorted anyway. So, in the end, we managed to delay the construction of four towns, destroy one town, siphon away enough funds to sustain our own, and plant a political time bomb that probably won't leave the people happy. All for the low-low price of zero casualties on our side."
'...Fuck…' Oliver felt weak. 'So everyone at Anchorage was pre-planned to die? For months…?' He felt like he might just throw up.
The programmer slid down the wall, laying back against it as he curled up into a ball. Horror, fear, and rage swirled together in an agonizing emotion he couldn't bear. 'Fuck…I gotta get out of here. Someone needs to know about this!'
"That's some heavy stuff," he heard Elle say. "I…I know I joined this willingly, but then what about all those people we took from Anchorage? I don't think they'll be feeling very cooperative after we did what we did."
'You're damn fucking right I won't cooperate! If I had a gun I'd SHOOT all of you!'
"That's what the slave collars are for. We need to keep them in check until we get them to see the truth."
'W-Wait, slave collar?' Oliver's blood ran cold. He reached up to his neck. When he felt the thin band of metal and the runes engraved on its surface, he struggled not to panic. 'No…No! This can't be!'
Frantically, he grasped at the metal band, only to seize up as a crackle of red briefly illuminated his cell. 'No—'
A wave of pain so intense that it made him black out for a moment washed over his body. He fell to the side, struggling as hard as he could not to scream, hands splayed out on the dusty ground, sweat already dripping down his face. All the while, some cold presence tickled the back of his mind, forcing him to comply. He would not touch the collar again.
'H-Holy shit. No!' Slavery? He was going to become a slave? A deep pit swallowed his stomach at the thought, his throat closing up.
To be bound to someone else's whims, unable to control anything that he could do. That was the worst kind of fate. Would the collar hurt him every time he went against an order? Would it take control of his body? His mind? Would it overwrite his thoughts so that he wouldn't even know he's being controlled? 'N-No, anything but that.'
He struggled to contain his breath, slowly pushing up against the wall for support as he recovered from the collar's shock.
"Where did we even get these collars from anyway?" Elle continued, and Oliver stilled himself to listen in. "Haven't these been illegal in Valor for, like, ever?"
"The countries in West Ordo still allow slavery, even in this modern day and age," a different female voice said. It wasn't Vhesla, but definitely an older woman. "The Order Kingdom especially makes collars strong enough to contain mamono. They're rare and hard to produce, but they're perfect for what we do. With these, we can recruit individuals that are willing to fight for what is right. We need them."
The voice of the first, grizzled man grunted in agreement, making the first sound he'd had in a while. "You're definitely right about that. Sometimes I feel like the entire world is against us."
"That's because the entire world is against us," the pensive man spoke again. "Order Kingdom, Valor, Remalgia, Teria—doesn't matter. They all want us gone. Which is why the collars are necessary. The more allies we can get out of them, the better."
There was another long silence. Finally, Oliver heard a sigh, then the first girl spoke again. "I guess you're right. Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Well, yesterday's enemy can be tomorrow's friend. It all just takes a little time. You'll get used to it, Elle."
More silence. It went on for a few seconds longer this time, but just when Oliver thought that maybe something happened—maybe they'd somehow caught on to the fact that he was awake, the older woman spoke again.
"By the way, Elle. Your brother is getting married soon isn't he?"
"Eh? Oh, yeah! I won't make it though. He and Stelle operate in Ineba…"
Oliver's brow scrunched in confusion as the conversation took a turn into normal territory. The now irrelevant conversation faded into the background as he tried to understand what he'd just heard. No matter how much he thought about it though, he couldn't make sense of it. Were they slave traders? Clearly not. 'Needing allies? Fighting for what is right?'
Did they mean allies as in an army of slaves? Shit, that would be the worst outcome. He feared the reality, but what could he do about it? There was already a freaking collar around his neck!
'Christ. This is who you work with Vhesla? This is what you do? Going around killing people for the 'greater good?' What the fuck…'
He tried to manipulate his mana again, to no effect. When that didn't work, he tried biting the restraints off, but quickly came to the conclusion that his teeth would break before the cuffs did. 'Why the hell did they even put these on me if they already put a damn slave collar around my neck? Shit!'
He tried everything he could think of in frustrated silence, but nothing gave. When he finally exhausted every option, rather than give up, he tried them all again. He didn't know how long he kept up his efforts to escape—it could have been minutes to hours for all he knew, but only once he'd failed three times each did he well and truly understand how futile it was.
He was fucked.
As he sat back against the wall, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled white-noise of the ongoing storm outside, he could only go back to thinking about things he didn't want to think about. Home. His family. Friends. Arthur…
He didn't know when he fell back asleep. But as he did, even with how down-trodden he'd grown, he repeated to himself, 'Find a way. Find a way to escape. I will find a way…'
A loud clank startled him awake, immediately drawing his attention to the cell door. He froze upon seeing the figure that stood half-illuminated in the doorway, then he remembered where he was and what happened. 'Shit. It wasn't a dream.'
The man that stood there was a large, shaven-headed, broad-shouldered giant that loomed over him menacingly. Only half of his face was illuminated by the hallway lighting, but it was enough for Oliver to see the scar over the man's left eye, along with the pair of dog tags around his neck. The man wore a leather harness over a black t-shirt and black pants. Strapped to the left-shoulder of his harness was the sheath of an upwards-pointing combat knife, and at his hip was a pistol—large caliber if Oliver had to guess.
If looks could kill, the glare that the man was giving him would have turned Oliver to dust. But that on its own wouldn't have been enough to intimidate the programmer. No, there was something else, something instinctual.
Oliver's skin crawled at the man's mere presence, his mana reacting negatively to their proximity. Somehow, from primal feelings of fear alone, Oliver knew in no uncertain terms that this man could kill him in an instant. His power, his presence, his aura—it was overpowering.
'Holy hell,' he thought, a chill running down his spine. 'Is this what anime characters mean when they say someone's presence is overwhelming?'
"On your feet," the man uttered. Despite talking normally, his voice was deep and powerful, and it seemed to reverberate throughout the room. Oliver could only wonder if the man's imposing voice was an effect of his aura, or if he was doing something to his voice consciously. Either way, the effect it had was the same; Oliver flinched at the man's words.
Before Oliver even had a chance to register the actual order though, his body moved on its own. The collar glowed dimly as he rose to his feet, his legs and torso aching terribly, and he noticed with great distress that it did not feel as though he wasn't in control. That meant that the slave collar was able to mess with the mind. Internally, he raged at the thought, but could do nothing as the man who held his metaphorical leash looked him up and down.
The shaven-headed man didn't seem to glean much from his inspection of the programmer. With a stone-cold expression, he nodded towards the hallway. "Go join the others."
Involuntarily, Oliver did as he was told. "Where are you taking me?" he dared to ask, voice so hoarse he surprised himself.
He got no reply as he walked flat-footed into the hallway, but the question was completely forgotten when he saw who all was there. His eyes widened, and he almost choked on some minor feeling of relief as he identified each person in the group. But just as quickly as that feeling of relief came, it evaporated when he saw the expressions on their faces and the conditions of their bodies.
The hallway opened up into a large, empty room where Natalie and Layla idled side-to-side near one wall, the former with her eyes cast to the floor and faded tear tracks running down her face, the latter glaring at the ground with such intensity it seemed she wanted it to burst into flames, a nasty gash near her left eye. Both were dressed in their combat clothes, torn up and damaged as they were. Amanda stood across from them, cracks in several places along her sandstone-like skin, a sorrowful look in her eyes, and the Yuki-Onna that Oliver never learned the name of stood next to her, wearing a dirty kimono, her eyes hidden by locks of her hair and the darkness of the room.
Oliver slowed for a moment when he caught sight of a helpless-looking Kikimora. It was Lorraine. Arthur's wife.
Strangely enough, Lorraine seemed to be the least distressed of the five mamono. Perhaps, she did not know of Arthur's passing? Oliver let out a pained breath. She had a right to know. But how could he tell her?
All five of the mamono had metal collars around their necks. Oliver imagined the one around his neck looked much the same. The only difference between any of them was that Oliver was the only one who was handcuffed. It didn't really make that big of a difference though. They were all still slaves right now, and they were all hurting in some way.
That they were all alive at all wasn't much of a comfort to him once he realized how broken they seemed. They were all such powerful people, way stronger than he could ever hope to be. And yet, here they stood…
"Oliver." Had he not been under the slave collar's control, he would have stopped dead in his tracks. That voice, so silky smooth and feminine, yet friendly in a teasing way, could only belong to one person. "So nice of you to join us."
His eyes found the subject of all of his conflicting emotions in an instant. She stood there, a little past the group of mamono prisoners, wearing her usual risque outfit, an expression on her face that Oliver couldn't read.
"Vhesla." His own voice oozed with venom that he couldn't contain. Fitting, he felt, for a liar and a fake. "What have you—"
"Ah-ah! No speaking," the succubus interjected. Almost instantly, Oliver's lips sealed shut of their own volition. He inwardly growled. "And that goes for all of you. Not for now at least. Everything will be explained later. Then you'll be able to understand why I did what I did."
Oliver glared at her. She wasn't even trying to hide anything at this point. For one reason or another, that pissed him off more.
"I…hope that when the time comes, you can forgive me, Oliver. You too, Yukino." Vhesla suddenly turned to the Yuki-onna, a sympathetic expression on her face that Oliver couldn't identify as real or fake. "I know what your dream is. But don't worry, it's not over. Nothing is over. For any of you. In time, I will help make your dreams a reality. I promise you that."
'Liar!' Oliver roared in his mind. 'You lied about everything else. Why would I believe you now!?'
"Usually, this is the part where we would send you away, and you'd be shown the truth. The horrible secret of this world. Then we would implore you to make the right decision and fight for the greater good. But right now, something else has come up." Vhesla sighed, placing one hand over her ample chest. "Keller, if you'd please?"
"Fine." Oliver jumped at the sound of the shaven-headed man's voice once again. Keller, his name was. Everybody looked at him. "A few minutes ago one of our transporters carrying precious cargo was hit by a distorted infestation. Extreme-class. They've requested backup and we're responding. All of us. Be prepared for a fight."
'What?' Flashes of distorted imagery zipped through Oliver's mind. The faceless horrors beneath Nexus Tech that almost tore him apart. A phantom pain surged in his arms. 'Please no.'
"This will be as much of an introduction into our ranks as much as it will be a test for you," Keller continued, expression barely shifting. "Try not to die."
'Oh God no. I'm not gonna survive that.'
"Oliver." His head snapped back to Vhesla. The woman spread her arms out, as if beckoning him for a…no way. "Come here."
He couldn't stop himself as he stepped into the woman's arms, no matter how badly he wanted to get away. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug he wanted desperately to say was devoid of any warmth, but it wasn't. Her body—her skin was so warm, soft, and sumptuous, it was pleasant and naturally comforting. The feeling was alien, and he was reminded of the fact that he'd never hugged a girl before outside of his own mother. What made it worse was the fact that he didn't want to leave the warm comfort of her embrace. He hated it.
"I'm proud of you, Oliver," the woman whispered to him warmly, almost like a mother would, her breath barely tickling his ear. He shivered at the feeling, knees shaking slightly. "You've come so far in such a short time. I'm sure that with your work, you'll be able to reach the stars."
He could feel her. So much of her, from the way her chest pressed against his own, to the way she lay her head on his shoulder as she spoke. He faltered for just a moment. 'Why would you do this to me?'
"But for now, it's time for your final test before I officially become your mentor." Finally, she pushed away from him.
He was immediately relieved to be away from the succubus, but a small part of him wanted to stay. He stamped that part down. Violently.
"Oliver. We want to see what you are fully capable of. Your power could be what we need to tip the balance of our fight against the world. Layla, Natalie, and Amanda, hold him in place."
'Wait what!?'
The three mamono Vhesla ordered looked confused at one another, but they did as they were told. They each gave him different expressions ranging from pity to fury as they grabbed him both roughly and gently. He gasped at the foreign sensation of their skin on his own. Such alien feelings were the textures of scaly skin and stone that was soft, but none of it felt bad. Natalie and Amanda's claws and hands were cold to the touch, but Layla's were warm, and wherever any of them touched him, his skin tingled and he shuddered, wanting to pull away from them. Before he knew it, the sentinel partners stood on either side of him, and Amanda stood behind him. Closely. Too closely. He could feel two soft, but pointy pressures on his back that he desperately ignored.
"Yukino, make sure he can't move his feet." Vhesla's order snapped his attention back to the situation. Suddenly, the Yuki-onna was splaying her fingers in Oliver's direction, and just as suddenly, his feet were encased in blocks of ice that were, thankfully, not very cold somehow. "Good. Now Oliver, don't move. I'm going to light your Soul Flame now. All of this is just a precaution. We don't know what will happen when an angel's soul is awakened."
Oliver felt all of the mamono around him tense at the mention of his apparent species, but they said nothing. Probably because they couldn't.
Only then did he notice Lorraine standing, staring at him with such fear-filled eyes. 'Shit.'
"Alright. Now, relax."
His muscles relaxed on their own, and he stood in place, waiting with bated breath. Vhesla put her hand on his chest, sending a small shock of something through him, then she closed her eyes. She began speaking in a language he'd never heard before, chanting something quietly. A pinkish glow began to surround her body, then a dense mass of it gathered around her hand, swirling down the length of her arm in spirals.
Then he felt it. A burning in his chest that slowly spread throughout his body. After a moment, his own skin began to glow a light golden sheen. At first, whatever was happening felt good, tingling all over the surface of his skin. But then…
Oliver's eyes widened when every square-inch of his skin flared up with pain. Had it not been for the mamono holding him, he would have probably curled up into a ball on the floor. He looked up at Vhesla, only to see that her face was twisted in a mix of concern and confusion. "Hm. Are you alright, Oliver? This process shouldn't be painful."
"I-I don't know, I just—AGH! AHHHHHH—!"
Pain. Pain! Excruciating PAIN! Agony the likes of which he'd never felt before. A visceral torture so bad his skin went numb and his vision blackened from the overpowering sensation. It felt as though every fiber of his being was being destroyed, torn apart down to the atom, then rebuilt over and over again! He struggled to look down at himself, but he did, and what he managed to see terrified him.
He could no longer hear as people shouted, likely Vhesla or Keller—he couldn't tell who, for his entire focus was on what was happening to his body. His skin, his muscles, his bones moved, ripping off of his body in lengths and glowing a bright fiery golden color as they turned to formless dust. Dust that swirled and spasmed as it came together, coalescing into new shapes that took the places of the old ones. For moments at a time, he could see his own raw flesh and blood as they exploded off of him, his nerves bursting with agony, then those ripped apart too, and he could see his own internal organs: the heart, the lungs, the liver, the gut intestines, and a hundred other things he couldn't possibly hope to name. Then it was all covered back up as new layers of muscle appeared, blood flowing into them, skin layering atop it all, only for everything to tear right back off, again and again in a cycle that threatened to draw him into madness.
Soon the agony was so overwhelming he couldn't even think. It was getting hotter and hotter, his body glowing brighter, bright enough to completely blind him. Then existence itself was pain and suffering. He wanted to die, he wanted to die, he wanted to die, he wanted to die he wanted to die he wanted to die he wanted to die hewantedtodiehewantedtodiehewantedtodiehewantedtodiehewantedtodiehewantedtodiehewantedtodiehewantedtodiehewantedtodiehewantedtodie—"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"
Then it all stopped. And he exploded.
A deafening boom was all he heard as he blacked out one last time for a couple of seconds. When he came to, he was on his back, looking up at the ceiling, confused out of his mind. His body shook as he struggled to remember his name. Through his blurred vision, he could see damage. The walls and ceiling of the large room were cracked and charred black, bits and pieces of rubble falling from the latter. The floor was too, if the uneven texture of the ground he was laying on was any indication.
Amanda was stumbling to her feet, trying to help Natalie up from their place across the room. Yukino and Lorraine were face down in different positions adjacent to them. Vhesla was slowly standing up on the other side of the room, her wings unfurled, but clearly burnt and torn in places, a pained expression on her face.
Seeing her, Oliver partially snapped back into focus. Everything was numb, and he could hear his rapid heartbeat in his ears. The adrenaline was kicking in. But when he tried to get up, he found he could barely move, only managing to prop himself up on his elbows.
He raised his arms to get a closer look at himself. His eyes widened and he froze up when he found both of his arms cut to bloody shreds. Blood dripped freely from the many holes and lacerations along them. Feeling light-headed, his vision blurred again, and witnessing his own body torn up so badly, the programmer whimpered. "A-Ahh…"
He barely registered the rapidly approaching footsteps, too fixated on the red that left his body. Just like Arthur.
He started to hyperventilate as the numbness faded and the pain began to set in again. What happened next was a woozy blur. A group of people appeared from entranceways on either side of the wall behind Vhesla. People in many different outfits, with many different appearances, all with different weapons, seemingly ready for a fight.
Disoriented, scared, and half-blind, Oliver turned away from the sight of his mutilated limbs, looking around without knowing what he was looking for, until he caught sight of Layla.
He thought to call out for help, but could barely collect himself. Strangely, the sentinel was grinning. Then Oliver noticed something peculiar. The salamander's slave collar was missing. That, and both of her clenched fists were glowing.
"Sayonara, bitches."
Then she raised both fists, and smashed them into the ground.
Suddenly, Oliver was in free fall as the floor caved in beneath them, the screams of many drowned out by the sound of crumbling stone, then he shouted in pain as his back cracked against the ground of the next floor. Before he could even sit up, he heard the loud cracking indicative of crumbling infrastructure, then he was falling again as the next floor failed and fell through as well. His body spun midair, and he was rattled as he slammed face-first into the ground, and he groaned as bits of concrete peppered his skin.
Ears ringing, he was almost totally discombobulated, but something about his fall managed to knock some sense into him, and he was once again aware of himself. Growling under his breath, he tried to catch his bearings. He saw his arms spread before him again, but this time, they were…completely healed!? 'W-What? But I was just…'
Was he hallucinating now? Ignoring it for the moment, he looked around. He was laying on a large, cracked piece of stone. The air was white with dust, and rubble completely covered the floor of a rectangular room full of old chairs and tables. There were multiple entrances and exits.
Among mounds of rubble and across a couple of tables and chairs lay several unrecognizable bodies, most of which were moving, but obviously out of commision. Shouting and a faint commotion echoed from all of the entranceways.
'This is insane! Layla…she blew up the entire floor!? I have to get up! This is our chance to escape!'
He froze when he finally caught sight of a familiar shape and hair color. One woman lay prone against the ground, struggling to move. Oliver struggled to breath, but he barely managed to wheeze out, "L-Lorraine…"
The woman barely responded. Gritting his teeth, Oliver began to drag himself over to her. He needed to help her. He needed to save her. He was obligated to. But as he pulled himself closer, his back got caught on something. No…it wasn't his back. His back wasn't that big, and it didn't spread out behind him so widely. But it felt weird, definitely a part of him, but unfamiliar. He looked up, over his shoulder. What he saw made him seize up.
Wings. A giant pair of majestic, white-ish, golden-orange-feathered wings spread apart from his back, both stuck under large pieces of stone. They were massive, at least seven feet long each, with primary feathers almost as large as his torso, and carpals and secondaries as large as his arms.
Oliver looked back to Lorraine. 'Nope. N-Not real. That's enough, Oliver. That's too far. Y-You're just hallucinating things now, t-that's it!'
The pain was finally disappearing, and the blur in his vision was subsiding with the ring in his ears. Snarling in denial, he rose to his feet, mortified by the feeling of his new appendages lifting the piles of rubble off of them easily. Feeling them, feeling those new appendages attached to him—it made him want to cry.
He tried to flex his new muscles to fold them in and out of the way, which he thankfully managed to do. Only after that did he notice a few more things. His senses, from his sense of smell, to touch, to sight—the whole nine yards had been amplified to an unknown degree. He tried to ignore it, hurrying his way over to Lorraine.
"Lorraine! Lorraine, are you okay!?" He flipped the woman over, but was astonished by how violently he almost did it. He'd barely lifted her and she seemed to flip over on her own. He realized what was going on immediately. "Fuck. Fuck!"
Shaking his head, he studied the Kikimora below him. Her eyes were closed, but she was still breathing. A loud bang startled him. He looked in the direction of the sound to see a masculine figure in a mask entering through a busted door, a Kalashnikov-esque rifle raised and ready to fire.
The figure didn't get far though. Out of nowhere, Layla appeared, her bare fist crashing against the masked man's face. The man cried out as he went flying, losing his rifle as a result. Layla snatched the weapon out of the air as the next figure entered the room, then Oliver flinched at the echoing crack of a gunshot as the newcomer shot at the sentinel. The bullet seemed to ricochet off her skin in a flash of red though, then Layla slammed the butt of her newly acquired gun on the figure's head. They dropped like a sack of potatoes, allowing the Salamander to take their gun as well.
"Nat!" She tossed the weapon into her partner's hands, who Oliver just noticed had also recovered from the fall. Amanda was also somehow still alive, as was the pained-looking Yukino on her back.
"Guys, let's get out of here before they recover," Layla said calmly. She looked at Oliver. "You…carry the kiki. Stick close if you don't want to die."
Swallowing, Oliver only nodded before crouching down to pick Lorraine up. A firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned and looked—
Pain erupted across his face as he saw stars, sent several feet backwards into a table that broke under his weight. His wings spread across the remains of the table, he coughed and blinked through the pain, looking up to see the shaven-headed man. Keller. Vhesla's ally. "Fuck."
"Think you can blow us up and get away with it? I don't think so."
"Spread out! Shoot him!" Layla roared as she and Natalie raised their rifles, leaping away from one another in the space of the room. Amanda's face was full of worry as she turned and ran, trying her best to keep Yukino safe.
Keller turned away from Oliver as the first rounds were fired, then he dashed after Natalie, knife in one hand, pistol in the other.
Natalie continued to retreat, firing rounds from her rifle that seemed to break against the man's skin, a thin yellow shield flaring wherever he was hit. He returned fire at the sentinel, then got within striking distance far too quickly.
For a moment, the world froze. Oliver's throat clamped shut as he saw Keller's knife rip through Natalie's own aura shield, sinking deep into her gut. The girl locked up on the spot, her mouth open and eyes wide in a silent, terrified scream. She coughed, and blood spurted from her lips.
"NATALIE!" Layla exploded where she stood, roaring like a dragon as her skin burst into flames with a wave of force that cast dust throughout the room. The ambient temperature increased several degrees, the glare in her eyes intense enough to kill, and Oliver swore he saw tears. "You BASTAAARD!"
Like a wild animal she threw herself at Keller, unloading her rifle in his direction, throwing it when it clicked empty. Keller ducked and weaved, dodging every other bullet in small bursts of speed that were inhuman, then he slapped the gun away.
Layla threw a flaming fist right at his head. Keller blocked. Then the two engaged in a brutal melee that had them traversing the room. As they fought, any remaining furniture was torn apart in the path of their battle.
Oliver groaned as he pushed himself up, dislodging his wings from the broken table. His fingers started to curl as an anger he didn't realize began to build up inside of him.
"Fuck. Fuck!" He ground out. All of this was happening. Why? Why to him? What the fuck did he do to deserve any of this? Stranded in another world full of death and despair he wanted nothing to do with. Then he had to deal with all of this shit. His face twitched as his fists clenched, creaking and popping. "FUCK!"
Glaring, he turned his attention back to the fight, just in time to see Keller throw Layla into the ground. The woman struggled to get up, but Keller stepped on her back, producing his pistol. He aimed it at her head.
Something in Oliver snapped. He'd already lost so much. His family, his friends, his old life. Everyone at Anchorage. Max and Helga. Arthur. He was done with losing things, even if it was the life of a woman he barely knew. He was done.
"FUUUCK!" His roar drew Keller's attention, but it was too late. With an instinctive thrust of his wings, he was off of the ground and across the room in an instant. His fingers posed like claws, he grabbed Keller's face with everything he had, snarling with teeth-bared as he soared towards the wall. "FUCK YOU!"
Holding nothing back, he crashed into the wall at full speed, hoping with every fiber of his being to smear the man in his grasp across it. Instead, the stone wall cracked in a small spider-web pattern, and Keller's yellow-tinted shield shattered. Without letting up, Oliver continued to fly, his wings beating powerfully as he dragged the man headfirst all across the wall at high speed, fast enough to make him almost horizontal to the ground, defeating gravity. Then he jammed his thumbs into the man's eyes. "DIE! DIE! FUCKING DIE!"
The man yelled in his grasp, then Oliver felt several strikes to his gut. He only let up when the pain kicked in and he realized Keller had stabbed him multiple times. He faltered, his wings shuddering as they folded inwards, and they both careened towards the ground.
The crash was painful, and Oliver felt his head and back smash through several objects before he came to rest. He struggled to breath again, and he touched his chest, seeing blood coat his fingers. Looking at his chest, he saw the many stab wounds, but was shocked when they began to close up on their own. In only a few seconds, he was healed. It was as if he was never stabbed in the first place.
Filing the phenomenon in his mind for something to worry about later, he rolled onto his stomach, shifting his wings out of the rubble, then got to his feet, looking for Keller. The man was already on his hands and knees, but the back of his head was bloody and raw, and blood dripped from his eyes. 'What the hell is this guy made of?'
Even as he wondered that, Oliver hurried over and kicked the man in the head as hard as he could. He would take no chances and abuse his anger as much as he could in this moment, if only so he wouldn't falter. He didn't want to feel bad at what he was doing. He couldn't feel bad. This man was working with Vhesla, and had stabbed Natalie and was just about to execute Layla. He probably killed many more people, too. People Oliver knew.
The programmer was a little surprised at the loud crack that sounded like a gunshot as his foot connected with Keller's head and the man was sent several feet over, onto his back. He didn't let up though. He hurried over and put a knee across the soldier's gut, ignoring how Keller's eyes were glazed over. He pulled his arm back and punched as hard as he could. Another crack and a small shockwave, and Keller's nose was broken. Oliver's hand hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to what he felt when Vhesla did whatever this was to him.
His other fist cracked against Keller's defenseless face. Then the other one. Back and forth he went, each hit harder and harder, faster and faster. "ARGH!'"
Then at last, he raised both fists above his head and brought them down with a shout. "RAGH!"
Blood gushing between his fingers, he breathing heavily. The world swirled around him as a result of his anger. Taking deeper and deeper breaths, he finally began to calm down, and he sat back on the ground. Keller didn't move, his face an unrecognizable mess.
The adrenaline was still rushing through Oliver's veins, but now, without the anger, there was only fear and sadness. He wanted to cry again.
His new wings shifted behind him, reminding him that he was no longer himself. He was no longer a human, was he? He was an angel now. Or something. 'What happened to me…?'
He sat there for a second, until he heard a pair of timid footsteps, and he looked up. Amanda was looking at him, a complicated expression of wariness and doubt on her face. She crouched down near Layla's prone form, still staring at him, before she turned and shook the young sentinel. Layla groaned.
"Ugh…what just…" The woman lifted her head. She stopped when she saw Natalie's still form. "Nat…N-Nat?"
Oliver's heart sank as he heard the distress in her voice. The sentinel ignored Amanda, pushing off of the ground to get to her friend. Slowly, Oliver turned away. A few feet away, he spotted Lorraine. The woman was still unconscious.
Giving Keller's body one last look, Oliver got to his feet and walked over to the widowed woman. He didn't know how to feel. At the moment, it was all a confusing jumble of everything that made him feel nothing. 'We still need to get out of here.'
Carefully, he picked Lorraine off of the floor and held her in his arms in a princess-carry.
"Nat…! Hey, Nat? NAt…"
Oliver's heart clenched when he heard Layla's voice crack. Turning, he moved over to the Salamander that was in denial. He never thought he'd see such a strong person cry. Amanda stood over her, an unsure look on her face.
"L-Layla?" a voice whispered.
"NAT!"
'She's still alive?'
Natalie was looking up at her friend, blood caking her lips. She coughed, a certain vacancy to her eyes. "I-I…I don't want to die, Layla."
"You're not gonna die. You're not gonna die!" Layla cried.
"I-I don't want to die."
"Shut up! You're gonna live!" she roared. She looked at Natalie's open wound, blood seeping out. "What do I do what do I do—"
She was panicking, Oliver knew. There was nothing that could be done. He felt helpless. But…something tickled his senses.
Natalie's mana…it felt weak. What if he…
He gingerly set Lorraine down, then approached Natalie, whose eyes were beginning to close, face drained of color. Layla looked on the verge of breaking down. It was a terrible scene. He had to try something.
Crouching down, he put a hand on the mortally wounded woman's abdominals.
"What are you—"
"Let me try something."
He closed his eyes. As he focused on his mana, he realized how much sharper his senses had become. He could sense the details around him, how dense the mana was in every square inch of space. Not only that, but his mana pool was significantly larger—four or five times its previous size. He had enough to let loose a barrage of mana blasts that could surely destroy at least a small area.
Natalie's mana was running thin, and it was stagnant—not even circulating as Oliver's constantly was. He wasn't sure how he managed to heal himself earlier, but he had a feeling that either his new physiology, or his new mana had something to do with it. Maybe both. Perhaps, he could give Natalie a boost, if not heal her himself?
Carefully, he prodded Natalie's mana with his own. It barely reacted to him. Frowning, he tried to push his mana into her body and coax hers into motion by circulating his around it. His plan worked! Natalie's mana moved by itself to the wound in her gut…but it didn't do anything.
Biting his lip, Oliver tried giving her his own mana. He cut off a portion of it and felt as it naturally distributed into Natalie's mana pool, making it almost balloon in size. Almost instantly, the mana he gave to her moved towards the open wound and got to work. Oliver opened his eyes. Much to his surprise and relief, Natalie's stab wound was closing, though at a much slower rate than his did. 'Huh. It worked.'
Layla gasped at the sight. Even Amanda leaned closer to see. It took a few seconds for them to realize they weren't seeing things, and a few seconds more for the wound to fully close. Once it did, Oliver sat back and sighed.
Layla didn't wait though. She hovered over Natalie, grabbing the girl's shoulders. "N-Nat?"
There was a beat of silence before Natalie opened her eyes. Her reptilian pupils turned softly to the salamander's own. "Layla?"
"You're okay!" The salamander cried, wrapping her arms around the girl.
"A-Ah, Layla! I can't breathe!"
After a few seconds more of crushing the girl in a tight embrace, Layla finally turned to Oliver. She grabbed one of his hands, shaking it profusely as she looked him in the eyes, her own face messy with tears. "T-Thank you. Thank you so, so much."
It was a weird scene. A girl he knew to be kind of a bitch, sitting so emotionally vulnerable to him, also wearing combat armor that was more like sexy underwear than anything else as she thanked him for saving the life of her dying friend.
Oliver tried to smile. He couldn't. Not really. "I didn't…you're welcome." He was getting anxious now. "Come on. There might be more guys like Keller coming if we don't get out of here." Thinking what he said over, he paused and looked around. "And Vhesla. She's gone. Shit, she could be hiding anywhere."
"Nat, can you walk?" he heard Layla ask, and he turned back to the group of mamono.
The lizardman blinked at the question. "Yeah. Actually, I feel great." She stood up without trouble, picking up the rifle she'd dropped, then she half-turned to Oliver, looking him up and down. "T-Thank you…for saving me, but…what, er, who are you really?"
Oliver opened his mouth, but paused for a second. "I…don't know anymore. I thought I was human until a few minutes ago, so." He shook his head, crouching down to carry Lorraine again. "This is all new to me."
"Oh…"
"Yep." His hearing picked up on a distant commotion coming from the entranceway opposite the one that had already been breached. "You guys hear that?"
"Yeah," Layla growled, tossing her fiery hair over her shoulder as she stood up. "Let's go. This way."
Without waiting, she hurried to the open doors, only stopping to grab a pair of pistols and an ammunition pouch from the belt of one of the unconscious men, affixing it to her…combat panties. Natalie followed her, checking the magazine on her Kalashnikov-esque rifle. Silently, Amanda nodded to Oliver, then hurried off.
Taking a deep breath, Oliver gave one last look at the wrecked room, noticing a metal object on the floor. It was Keller's gun.
Frowning, he held Lorraine with one hand to pick it up, and he took it with him as he left the room.
The group of six ran through the halls of the building, eventually breaching the doors that led to the outside world. Outside, they found themselves on the streets of what looked like an abandoned town, complete with smaller skyscrapers, old decrepit department stores, and rows of destroyed and dilapidated townhouses and apartment buildings. It was still raining, though not as hard as it had the night Anchorage fell, but enough to warrant concern for their well-being if they stayed out too long.
Perhaps it was the luck of the devil, but the streets weren't completely empty. There were several vehicles, including a small van with its headlights on, and a bored-looking man sitting in the driver's seat, a mask pulled down to his chin. An enemy.
Layla and Natalie rushed him, pointing their guns at the windshield and demanding he get out. Wisely, the man did, and Layla knocked him out with a headbutt.
'Ouch. Tough,' Oliver winced at the blow. He and Amanda went to the back and pulled the double doors open before laying their respective mamono down gently in the seats. Oliver let Amanda climb in first, but he paused, turning to the line-up of remaining vehicles. 'It'd be bad if they followed us.'
Stepping to the side, he called upon the only spell he currently knew. A certain giddiness built up inside of him as he saw the mana blast swell, much larger and more voluminous than the last time he did it.
"Oliver? What are you—" Layla was cut off as he fired the blast.
It exploded on the hood of the closest car with astonishing force, breaking all the windows and crushing the engine. Oliver could feel the shockwave from where he stood. He repeated the process four more times, blasting the rain away until every vehicle left was no longer operable. In the end, what remained were several burning wreckages, prone to explode soon. Satisfied, he looked at Layla, who had a brow raised.
"Just so nobody follows us," he explained.
The salamander nodded. "Good thinking." Her eyes flitted to his wings. "Hop in the back. Me and Nat will be up front."
He nodded, then complied, folding his inconveniently large wings to fit in the back. They brushed up against the ceiling, but luckily, they fit. As he pulled the back doors closed, Layla took to the wheel, and without a moment to spare, she hit the gas, and they were off.
After ten minutes, they were leaving the perimeter of the abandoned town, following a road to who knows where. But at least, it didn't look like they were being chased. When he was sure of this, Oliver sighed and closed his eyes.
He needed a day or two to process what just happened, and to get used to the new…changes that his body had gone through. That, and a couple more to rest.
A/N: Man, what do I even say. It's been a couple of months. Hope you enjoyed the chapter I guess. It was very difficult to write, and busy as I am, harder to find time to actually write it. Thankfully, chapter 8 is already partially done and…well that one is gonna be a really special one I think.
Please, leave a review, let me know what you think. Cya later I guess.