Cole's blood roared in his ears.
The lock to this large gallery had rusted clean off. They had never been safe, then.
He wasn't aware the dread crushing him in a chokehold had receded until it came abruptly slamming back into his chest and left him dizzy. The spirit slunk forward, harbinger of torment, its form distorting and dripping wildly with each pace it closed in, and all but the dimmest wisps of late-day light winked out.
He couldn't do this again, not now, he couldn't—
His hands had started shaking again, refusing to tighten around his scythe no matter how hard he tried. Cole was dimly aware of voices reaching for him, but much louder ones, stitched together with the low hiss of the dead, drowned them out.
"Pay! Pay for what you DID!"
"Never escape—"
The words grated like nails against his ears. Everything else filtered through a haze. It was so cold.
What was wrong with him? This time he even knew the spirit was still roaming the area, ready to strike, and he was still knocked off guard. He was supposed to be stronger than this! It was infuriating how easily the spirit tore down his walls and sent him right back to feeling weak, like at Yang's temple, like when he was a ghost and his very existence had felt split off from reality.
Wheezing breaths rattled in his throat. His body was solid again, Yang reformed and his temple a harmless abode. Why was it so hard to stop feeling this way? If he crumbled, the mansion would win and he couldn't let that happen, but in the moment it was so hard to breathe. Cole would be okay because he had to be okay, so if his breath would stop sputtering long enough for him to get his head in this fight, that would be amazing—
"Scared … scary, scary—"
"DIE! DIE!"
A ball of dark magic shot through the room, barely missing Zane and blasting a painting into charred ruins. Ice shot through his veins as the magic dissipated into wispy tendrils, the room going dark as it seeped into the command to run forward, to check on Zane, to help, to do anything, misfired from his brain to his feet. Cole stumbled further away, letting out a choked scream as his back hit a sculpture. The chill of the marble seeped through his gi and sent another shudder through him; he had to blink to clear the watery blur over his vision, he couldn't do this he couldn't—
"COLE!"
The shout was piercing enough to break through the terrified haze. Tilting his head level revealed a wide-eyed, worried Jay, hand outstretched hesitantly near Cole's arm. Behind them both, Zane had already pulled out shurikens and retaliated, presumably to cover them.
That would explain the hellish screeching ringing in his head.
"Talk to me," Jay pressed. "What's going on?"
"I—" the word faltered pathetically, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "It's too much."
That illuminated absolutely nothing, but Jay seemed to understand anyway, which made it a lot harder to be mad at him.
"Twice in a day is a lot, huh? I'm sorry." Jay's hand still hovered in mid-air. Cole leaned into it, desperate to ground himself, and Jay squeezed his shoulder. His free hand, turned palm-up in front of his stomach, rose up, then down, in an unspoken order. Breathe with me.
In …
Slowly, he managed a shaky exhale. Out.
In … Out.
His chest still burned like a poker had been struck through it, but the dizziness was starting to clear.
"Better?"
"Starting to be," he rasped. Jay shot him a relieved smile.
"Awesome. Now, you think you're ready to chop-socky this miserable clown house, or d'ya need more time?"
Cole managed a small turn of his lips at the ridiculous phrasing, but it fell as the air, charged with dark tension, sent another chill through him.
He didn't know that he was ready, per se, but what other option did he have here?
He nodded quickly. Fresh adrenaline was coursing through his system, and he had to get it right this time. Channel that pumping heart and quick breath into his attacks, instead, and he would be golden. Afterwards, he'd feel terrible, he could already tell, but—one fight, it was just one fight, he could handle that. He had to.
"We'll be okay," Jay said, infusing his tone with encouragement. "Just look at that thing; it doesn't stand a chance right now!"
"Turn back now! NOW! Turn back!"
"Leave alone! Leave!"
"Stop, what, stop, STOP—"
"DIE!"
The spirit's thousand voices struck his ears again, and he screwed his eyes shut, cringing at the way his heart skipped. When he opened them again, lithe hands, with just the slightest tremble, were already gently resting on his arms.
"Oi. Lookit me."
Cole did, taking in Jay's pinched brow and his wearily determined face.
"Whatever that thing's doing to you, whatever you're hearing, focus on us instead! We've got your back. You've got this."
Right. He had this. They needed him. With another breath, shaky but stabilizing, he tensed and unfurled his fists. His stomach still hadn't stopped twisting in sickening knots, but that was a problem for after-fight him. So long as he didn't puke by moving too quickly, he could worry about it later.
"Plus, uh, that wasn't hypothetical," Jay added. "Seriously, look at it. Looks like an unraveled yarn ball. I bet we weakened it last night and it's on its last legs! We're gonna be okay," he repeated. "Believe in yourself, and us. We'll get out of here yet."
Taking one last shaky breath to prepare himself, Cole looked up into dark eyes and nodded, tightening fingers slick with sweat around his scythe again.
Anything he planned to reply flew out of his head as Zane ran up to them, metallic skin gleaming in the flash of exploding shuriken. Cole's heart dropped at the giant slash tearing diagonal through his cheek, shredded wires poking through it.
"Whoa, are you okay?"
"I am fine," Zane huffed, surveying him and Jay with worried blue eyes. "I merely got too close to it. Are you alright?"
"Close enough," Cole offered, with a weary grin. He was (metaphorically) see-through and he knew it, but there was no time to better collect himself. "But you're sure—?"
"Yes," Zane bit out, cautiously watching the roiling spirit stretch unnaturally as it recovered from his attack. "I am unharmed and the damage is mostly cosmetic. PIXAL is already reading me the riot act. I assure you I am fine."
Besides him, Jay snorted before charging brandished nunchucks with lightning and running ahead.
"Let's get this disaster over with!"
Glinting claws swept the air, barely missing Jay before he took cover behind a raised pillar and struck distorted, dripping arms away. Misty layers of darkness sloughed off the spirit's body as it turned back to them and marched forward, screaming with a renewed vengeance. Cole cringed and shook his head as garbled voices raked at his brain again, reminding himself furiously to stay focused on what mattered. With a quick breath—in, he took in Jay's noises of exertion, the faint whirr of Zane's systems as they optimized energy usage for combat. On the exhale—out, he flashed Zane a weak thumbs up. The concerned light in the nindroid's eyes didn't disappear, exactly, but relief joined it.
Dashing forward, he put all his muscle into a fierce swing, murky clouds of ectoplasm swirling out from the slice wound it left behind, then pushed aside cold, jagged limbs before they could reach him. The shink of its claws echoed inches from his ear, his heart leapt into his throat, and Cole allowed himself a shudder before he twirled his scythe again and jabbed. The blade found purchase in a glowing eye and ripped through viscous flesh as he yanked it out.
Anticipating its wrath, he hopped backwards into a three-pointed crouch, right as Jay dashed forwards with lightning dancing faintly across his arms.
"NO! No more!"
"DIE!"
Cole swallowed against the cotton in his throat.
Wild, crackling streaks of electricity met their mark, their light mixing with the spirit's sickly glow into a sinister indigo, and the spirit's body sparked as it twitched off the stings. Zane rushed back into the fray from his right. Shuriken embedded themselves neatly in wide, glinting eyes and blew up in a magnificent flare of heat. The noise from the explosion thankfully muffled the screams, as Cole raised his scythe over his head and charged. He still hadn't stopped shaking, but he hit true and sent it flailing back a couple inches. Gritting his jaw and grounding himself with the ache, he stepped back quickly and swung at another opening, the curved blade leaving misty gashes. Jay darted ahead of him to whap away with nunchucks the arms that had been shot out to slice Cole open. Then he let loose a sweeping arc of lightning that knocked it back further.
The beast convulsed again, stretching wildly like dirty slime. If it was still trying to hold itself together, it was barely succeeding; it was beginning to stretch apart, bleeding ectoplasm uncontrollably. The eyes were beginning to lose their gleam. Fanged mouths hissed as many with increasing desperation and Cole had to grab for a nearby statue to stabilize against as their voices lapped over each other, threatening to push him into that horrible sensation of being disconnected from the living.
"STOP IT! STOP HURTING US!"
"REVENGE—"
"Pleeease please ple-e-e-ase …"
"DIE, DIE, DIE!"
Jay, tired from the burst of elemental power, stumbled backwards with a hefty sigh. Zane flitted forward to freeze some of the spirit's feet in place, gracefully weaving between its snapping jaws and outstretched limbs to slice at anything he could reach. Cole froze, turning over the screams and whimpers clawing into his brain against his better interest; maybe it was because the spirit was on its last legs, but it sounded terrified, and the unease knotting up his gut refused to be set aside.
Abruptly a black, dripping arm crashed down against the nearby statue, smashing it to rough smithereens and sending a spray of debris into Cole's face. Another set of claws glanced his cheek and left a row of stinging cuts. He started back, gasping.
What was he thinking? Scared or not, the beast was trying to kill them! He was going to be uncomfortable no matter what; best to be uncomfortable but alive.
"I hope that statue wasn't too expensive," Jay quipped, knocking back outstretched, melted claws before bashing his nunchucks straight into a wall of eyes glaring them down.
"Eh, it wasn't that pretty," Cole cracked weakly. His head was pounding, but he squared his feet, feeling the ground under him and how it vibrated with each angry strike. "I'm sure no one will miss it."
"Don't be rude," Zane said, a quiet laugh in his voice. "Art is subjective." A clean flick of his wrist; another shuriken to an inhuman eye. It screeched again, Cole winced yet again—could it stop pleading—and the others cast him worried glances.
"Are you okay, dude?"
Cole dipped his chin in a curt nod and wiped aside the blood dripping down his face. He whipped his head around at a furious snarl, and met the sight of the spirit, newly freed of its icy shackles, lunging towards them. Its claws glinted in the dying light of evening.
A wall of malicious eyes narrowed.
Jay yelped.
Cole, mercifully, didn't think when he moved. For a moment, there was no second-guessing himself, just the conviction that he needed to keep his friends safe. Warmth surged through his arms and the scar on his head as he swung once, twice, then threw a solid hook at the rush of black shooting out at him. Its snarls crescendoed into a nonstop scream, but the blood pumping in his ears drowned it out well enough to keep his resolve steady.
Then, just as quickly as it had come on, the hot tingle receded.
"You guys okay?"
They nodded. Wasting no time, Zane barreled into action, giving Cole a valuable second to catch his breath.
"Whoa," Jay whispered, hanging behind. "Your hands. They did the thing from last night."
Blinking, Cole looked down. Sure enough, the last touches of a distinct orange glow were fading back under his skin.
Huh.
"I guess they did," he mused out loud. Pushing sweaty bangs out of his eyes, he marveled at how much more composed he felt after just a few seconds. The sensation of lava trickling over his arms was such a warm, comforting jolt back to reality that it was easier to think, to move. It was grounding.
"And they work amazing in a pinch, too," Jay said, eyeing his arms admiringly. "I think you should just keep fighting with those lava fists!"
"But my powers barely respond to me now!" Cole protested. "It just kind of happened."
"Well, think of it this way." Lightning lit up his friend's blue gi and scratched-up face. "There'll be more fights to practice with. I bet you'll figure it out faster than you can inhale a stack of Zane's pancakes."
Cole snorted, then groaned. His stomach growled at the reminder of proper food, then turned with lingering nausea.
"And hey." Jay watched Zane fend off the spirit, eyes distant. "You look more confident with 'em. I think it'd do you good." Then he sprinted forward and left Cole to ponder it.
Flexing his fingers a couple times, Cole reached for his power again, but it stayed blocked up under his skin, refusing to come with its usual ease.
Stupid magic. He could work out the kinks in his new ability later, but for now he had nothing to do except pick his scythe back up and keep fighting.
It happened while he was distracted by pulling Jay out of the way of lashing arms. Cole turned to check on him just in time to see Jay's eyes widen and his hand yanking at Cole's wrist. Before he could ask what the big idea was, the words caught in his throat as a chill snaked its way down his spine. His vision shook, the world seizing unpleasantly.
That was all the warning they got before a dark wave slammed into them.
It was probably magic, some part of his brain supplied, before rational thought shriveled up and died. The determination, the steady adrenaline keeping him moving, flew out with it. Judging by the anguished scream behind him, Jay was hit, too, but he just didn't have the wherewithal to worry, to even look in his direction. Suddenly it was like being back in the worst throes of panic; he couldn't even muster up the strength to curl up into a ball. His every cell rioted violently against itself. A numb buzzing shot through him, like he was being forcibly ripped from his own body. The rest of the world wasn't real. If the ground was still touching him, he couldn't feel it. Nothing registered except the fire in his chest and the thick black miasma closing in on him, he was choking on it, suffocating—
His stomach flipped in on itself before emptying its contents.
Evade sharp claws here, flinch away from the jaws snapping shut there—Zane darted from one spot to another, behind a wall, a statue, near paintings. The precarious game of keep away would not last long, not while he was fighting alone.
He risked a dangerous glance back at his friends, a pang going through him. They had taken a powerful hit from magic, it seemed, and he could not have begun to predict the havoc it had wrought on them both. Even in the din of battle, his enhanced hearing could pick up Cole's gasps for breath, Jay's wet sniffles even as he tried to nudge Cole back up. The sounds dug at his heart.
However, no matter how much it pained him, he could not turn around and ensure their well-being himself. There was still a much larger problem looming in front of him, and it had not become any less hostile.
Several problems, actually. Firstly, any being capable of inflicting so much damage while severely weakened, with an ability to regenerate, posed such a threat that his best efforts felt futile. Zane knew better, though; his friends were gaining their bearings behind him, and they were almost certainly finished if he allowed the spirit to slip past him and attack them now.
Claws scraped against his shoulder, slashing through parts and wires with a metallic screech. Zane ducked back before launching into a familiar white tornado, the faint icy glow illuminating the room. As it came to a halt, he stumbled for his footing; the move had bought him precious time as the spirit dissipated, but it had been risky on account of how much it had taken out of him. His energy reserves were beginning to run dangerously low now that the monster was putting up a more spirited fight, and with each passing moment his nerve circuits buzzed in increasing agitation. PIXAL was already nervously warning him that he could not keep up his current pace much longer without landing in dire circumstances.
Jay and Cole's nervous chatter dug into his ears as he slid under a furious swipe, and it served as a reminder: they could not protect themselves right now.
So Zane had to.
Until they had stabilized each other, he could keep blocking the spirit's malicious advance. Its form barely held, having mostly dissolved into a dripping, misty haze that blackened the atmosphere, yet it still threw its last moments into wiping their existences. As well as luckily missing the strange wave that took out Jay and Cole, he had frantically dodged three balls of magic thus far; he narrowly sidestepped another one as it whizzed past him.
So close. Zane watched its form shift and stretch out of control, dripping ectoplasm as it screamed. His limbs hung heavy as his power drained, response times cutting dangerously close.
He was so close to victory.
He just needed to hold out.
They spent a charged moment in standstill, he and the monster, as a thousand glowing eyes bored into him. Zane dared not move an inch. The spirit curled into itself; its constant rumble sharpened into an aggrieved snarl.
Then, in one tick of the clock, it pounced.
Alarmed shouts rang out behind him, their words lost on him. His legs were leaden instead of titanium in that moment. PIXAL's panic rushed through his systems and mingled with his own.
A blur of red shot into his field of vision and skidded to a halt in front of the spirit.