Author's Note (A/N):
A lot of you mentioned preferring regular updates rather than big chapter drops like I did last time, so I'm working on creating a realistic schedule I can stick to. Once I've figured that out, I'll let you all know.
I'm currently working on three other stories:
First story: A simple idea—after performing his final Jutsu, Nagato is transported to the Worm universe. After learning where he is, he decides there are a few people who need to experience PAIN.
Second story (tentative): This one might get scrapped, but it's a Mass Effect crossover where humanity has access to Wakandan and other MCU elements. Didn't think the timeline would be this complicated to work out! Maybe I'm making it harder than it needs to be, haha.
As for my original story, it's going to take a bit longer since it's a big project and I want it to be as good as possible. I'm aiming to have the first chapter out by the end of the year or early next year. It will mix the magic and mysticism of Harry Potter, the political intrigue of Game of Thrones, and the grittiness of Worm, with some elements drawn from Halo. It may sound super cracky and convoluted, but trust me, there's a vision behind it!
Let me know if there's a particular story you'd like me to focus on.
Chapter 9: Eyes in the Shadows
The room was dim, illuminated only by the cold, flickering glow of a monitor. Coil sat at his desk, his posture rigid and controlled, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. His masked face remained impassive, hidden in the darkness as the grainy footage looped again, every detail scrutinised. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the projector.
The tailored black suit clung to his form, the image of a coiled white snake wrapping around his torso like a symbol of his calculating nature—silent, poised, always in control. His gloved fingers rested on the arm of his chair, unmoving, but his mind was miles away, dissecting every frame of the footage. Whoever this new cape was, she had his attention. She was a new and unknown piece on the board, and Coil was not a man who tolerated the unknown.
Across from him sat Tattletale, her sharp, calculating gaze flickering between Coil and the monitor. As usual, she wore her casual smirk, as if none of this fazed her. Dressed in a dark hoodie with her blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders, she might have looked relaxed to an outsider, but Coil knew better. Beneath the casual facade was a razor-sharp mind, her power always working, teasing out fragments of truth from whatever scraps she was given.
Yet, beneath that exterior, she loathed him.
Lisa had been a sharp kid, smarter than most, her gift for understanding things always setting her apart. But her power had made her something more—something dangerous. She hadn't asked for this, hadn't asked for Coil to find her, to see her potential and exploit it before she even had a chance to figure out what she wanted for herself. He had given her an offer that felt like no choice at all. Join him, work for him, and he'd provide protection, resources—and security. But the alternative was unspoken, a silent threat that had hung in the air when he approached her. She had known. She had felt the trap close in around her the moment she agreed.
And now, years later, here she was. Still trapped. Still under his control.
Her smirk twitched as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, watching the way he calmly rewound the footage again. Everything about him was so perfectly calculated, every move planned with ruthless precision. She could read most people like open books, pick apart their secrets, their motivations, but Coil was different. His powers made sure of that, frustratingly difficult to decipher even with her own abilities. Every time she got close to unravelling the exact mechanics of his control, it slipped away like smoke. It was as if he could see every move before it was made, like he existed in more than one reality at once.
It was maddening.
The tension between them was palpable, but Lisa hid it well. She'd grown used to Coil's methodical, predatory nature—the way he studied people like they were just pieces on a chessboard. It was a dynamic she resented, but one she'd learned to live with. For now.
Coil's voice finally broke the silence, cold and measured. "She doesn't move like a typical Brute," he said, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "No brute force, no overwhelming physicality."
Lisa leaned forward, letting her power tug at the deeper details of the fight, pushing past the surface level. Oni Lee's dangerous, unpredictable. Yet the girl held her own. She didn't panic the way a rookie should have, and her dodges weren't random—they were precise.
"She's dodging Oni Lee in ways that a rookie shouldn't be able to," Lisa murmured, more to herself than to Coil. "That's not just instinct. It's tactical adjustment. Some kind of combat precognition, maybe?"
"She's not just some brute," Lisa continued, her voice more assured now. "She's a Thinker. And a disruptive one at that. With the right training, she could be a real problem for anyone who underestimates her."
Lisa's fingers drummed idly on the desk in rhythm with Coil's. "But she's also drawing power from somewhere. Like Maxout in Seattle." Lisa paused, her eyes narrowing as a headache began to pulse behind her eyes. "Except Maxout was all raw energy, uncontrollable. This girl... she's calling on something controlled, something external."
Her eyes shifted to the raven on the screen. The creature circled the girl like a sentry. "And that—might be a projection. Every time I focus on it though, I get the mother of all Thinker headaches. Like trying to solve a puzzle where pieces don't quite fit."
Coil's gaze stayed on the raven. His tone remained cold, distant, but Lisa could sense the curiosity behind it. "Could it be Tinker tech? Or a Trump ability?"
Lisa shook her head, biting back the frustration. "Not Tinker tech," she said sharply. "It's too organic. It moves with her and works in perfect tandem with her. It's... different. A Trump power would make a lot of sense"
Coil's eyes remained fixed on the screen as he rewound the footage again, the raven frozen mid-flight. "What does the raven do?" he asked, his voice low. "Is it augmenting her?"
Lisa sighed, feeling the frustration of gaps in her understanding gnawing at her. This girl was slippery. Her abilities didn't fit into the usual categories that Lisa's power wanted to push her toward.
"It's amplifying her, no doubt," Lisa said, her voice steadying as she spoke. "But it's not that simple. It's like Glaistig Uaine's spirits—an extension of her power, not just something she's controlling externally. The raven might even be the focal point for her abilities. I don't think it's sentient like Glaistig's spirits, but it's not a simple projection either."
Coil paused the footage, his fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the table. "Could she be a Master?"
Lisa leaned back, crossing her arms, her eyes flicking back to the frozen image of the raven on the screen. "Maybe. Or a Shaker, affecting a radius around herself with the raven extending her range. Either way, she's adapting fast. If we don't act soon, she's only going to get stronger."
She glanced at the screen again, watching the raven's tight circles. The girl's strikes were awkward, lacking finesse, but there was something instinctual about her movements. The raven acted like an extra pair of eyes, and Lisa's smirk deepened slightly.
"She's no Alexandria," Tattletale added, amusement creeping into her voice, "but the raw power's there.
Coil rose from his chair, his shadow casting long across the room. His steps were deliberate, his mind already formulating a plan. "Weaknesses?"
Lisa's smirk returned, though it was tinged with bitterness. "She's untrained. Hesitates in battle. Right now, you could catch her off guard easily enough. A decent Striker or a well-placed trap could take her down. But give her time... and she'll start controlling the battlefield."
Coil's pacing was slow, every movement calculated. His silence was unnerving, but Lisa had long since learned to ignore it. It was part of his game—keep everyone guessing, never show all the cards.
"The raven," Coil murmured, his voice thoughtful, "Is it something we can use? Or should we eliminate it?"
Lisa crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on the still image. "I think the raven's integral to her abilities. Take it out, and you might cripple her. But it could backfire. If we don't understand the full connection, messing with it might trigger something worse. We need more information. Like with most Parahumans—you don't push until you know what you're dealing with."
Coil nodded slowly, his gaze still on the footage. "Find out more. If she's a threat, we neutralize her. If she's useful, we bring her into the fold."
Lisa smirked, though the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. She'd figure it out. She always did. But the resentment was still there, gnawing at her from the inside. No matter how much she learned, no matter how many answers she found, Coil was always one step ahead. Always in control.
"No rest for the wicked, huh?" Lisa muttered, still feeling the aftereffects of the Ruby Dreams casino job from a few days ago. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling as she stared at the frozen footage one last time.
"She's got power, sure. But more importantly—"
Her smirk widened slightly, the adrenaline from a new puzzle kicking in.
"She's got potential."
Taylor sat alone in the abandoned church, the faint light filtering through the cracked stained-glass windows casting fragmented beams onto the cold stone floor. Her back rested against the altar, her fingers absently tracing the smooth metal of the spear laid across her lap. The weapon hummed quietly in her hands, a barely restrained power rippling beneath its surface, vibrating softly like a waiting storm. A week. It had been a full week since she had stopped going to school.
They'll notice soon. Taylor knew it was only a matter of time before the school reached out, before her father would get a call. The question of how she would explain her absence loomed in the back of her mind, but it felt distant, almost irrelevant now. How could she explain this? That she had spent every day inside a ruined church, training with magic she barely understood and a weapon she had forged from her own rage.
She hadn't planned to just disappear. But everything had changed, and the mundanity of Winslow High had become... irrelevant. Sitting through classes, pretending nothing had happened—it wasn't something she could stomach anymore. Not with everything she'd learned. Everything she could do.
The life she had left behind—the taunts, the isolation, the helplessness of Winslow—seemed so far away now. Unimportant. How could she miss it when her path had led her to something so much more powerful, so much greater? Instead, she had come here, to the forgotten church, away from the prying eyes of her old life, the life that was quickly fading away.
For the past week, she had done nothing but train. She had honed herself, her magic, her armour. The armour, once foreign and cumbersome, had become a second skin. The runes etched on the inside hummed faintly with her energy, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. Each day, she pushed further, learning to channel the Odinforce that had once overwhelmed her, bending it to her will.
But it was the spear—her spear—that marked the true transformation. The ruby core, set at its centre, pulsed with a deep red glow, casting long, ominous shadows across the stone floor. The weapon had been forged shortly after the armour, born from her realization that mere protection was insufficient. She needed more than that: she needed a conduit for her rage and power, something her enemies would fear, a vessel to unleash the storm raging within her.
The anger had surged within her, raw and sharp, driving her forward. As she hammered and shaped the metal, the Odinforce surged through her—too fast, too much. It felt like a storm of energy, both light and electricity, tearing through her with an intensity that made her bones hum. She couldn't control it.
Her vision blurred as the power consumed her, pulling her deeper into its current. The electricity and searing light fused together, blinding in their intensity. That was when Muninn acted. He had been her guide, her anchor when the Odinforce nearly consumed her. Without him, she might have lost herself entirely.
From the shadows, the raven watched her spiral out of control. His dark wings beat once, and the world around her shifted. The church vanished, replaced by a realm she couldn't fully grasp—a glimpse, a tear in the fabric of reality. The memory of that place was fragmented, but the energy there was alive, pulsing with an otherworldly charge. The light was fierce, like staring into the heart of a star, searing through her with a power that defied comprehension.
She had drawn from that place, absorbing the raw energy into her body and the weapon she was forging. Her hands moved instinctively, the spear taking shape in her grasp as the light and electricity crackled through her fingers, burning the runes into the metal. The light and electricity were bound together, fused into the very core of the weapon.
As she gripped the spear, the ruby core warmed in her hand, its vibrant red light intensifying with each beat of her heart. She could sense a whispering sensation, a subtle current of thought that resonated with her own will. It wasn't verbal, but the message was unmistakable.
In her mind, a name surfaced, a name that felt right, imbued with the power she could almost taste. "Flokkr," she murmured aloud, feeling the word echo with a deep, reverberating energy. The ruby seemed to hum in agreement, its pulse synchronizing with the rhythm of her breathing.
Taylor tightened her grip, and the ruby's resonance grew stronger, pulsing with a steady, rhythmic light. With each beat, the spear seemed to affirm its name—Flokkr was not merely a label, but a declaration of the weapon's essence and its bond with her. It spoke to the depths of their connection, as if recognizing her as its true wielder. Taylor could sense the spear's sentience, hungry for her power and the blood of her enemies.
The ruby's insistent energy flowed through her, reinforcing the silent pact between them. Flokkr was hers, an extension of her power and a tool for the path she had chosen. The spear was more than a weapon; it was a reflection of her strength and resolve, a channel through which her will could manifest in battle.
Taylor's confidence solidified as she embraced Flokkr's presence, feeling the raw potential of the spear syncing with her own formidable energy. The name felt like a promise, a testament to the power they would wield together.
She had tested it that same day, standing in the shadow of the altar. With a flick of her wrist, she hurled the spear across the room, watching with satisfaction as it sliced through the air with deadly precision, embedding itself in the far wall. Then, with just a thought, it returned to her hand, crackling with the same electric energy and searing light that had forged it.
The spear had become more than just a tool; it was an extension of herself, resonating with her thoughts and emotions.
In its retracted form, the spear functioned as a staff, showcasing its versatility. The solid ruby core at its centre absorbed and deflected incoming blows, whether in staff or spear mode. Each strike was met with a subtle pulse from the ruby, dispersing the force and redirecting the energy away from Taylor. In this form, it was ideal for non-lethal takedowns.
When the time came for offence, the spear's true power emerged. The blades, controlled by magic, retracted smoothly into the staff's central shaft, leaving only the staff visible. Upon magical activation, Taylor's energy surged through the weapon, causing the blades to extend with a burst of light and electricity.
The electricity within it responded to her will, summoning arcs of lightning that danced along the blades, sending ripples of power through the air. She could call upon lightning at will, striking enemies from a distance or blinding them with bursts of searing light. The blades could cut through steel, leaving trails of blue-white energy and shimmering heat in their wake.
Taylor ran her fingers along the shaft of the spear, feeling its subtle hum of power. The ruby glimmered softly in the dim light, casting a faint red glow across the stone floor.
Despite all this, she knew she had barely tapped into the spear's true potential. She had only glimpsed a fraction of the power it held, a vast reservoir of strength and energy still waiting to be fully unleashed.
She had poured everything into this weapon—her anger, fear, and frustration. It had absorbed it all, evolving into something far greater, a true emblem of her strength. She glanced over at Muninn, perched quietly in the shadows. He had been her guide, and now, the connection between them was stronger than ever.
The church was quiet around her, the weight of the past week heavy in the air. Taylor closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. She had changed. She had grown stronger, more dangerous. Whatever came next, she would face it head-on. She wasn't the same girl who had walked the halls of Winslow or the vulnerable cape who nearly perished on her first night out. That person was gone—consumed by the fires of the Odinforce, lost in the storm of light and energy.
Whatever transpired when the school finally contacted her father, or whenever she finally faced the dragon, whatever the consequences, she was ready. No matter the enemy, she was prepared. She had Flokkr, the armour, and the power to change everything. She would never break or bow again.
