Arc 5 | Chapter 198: One Type of Bomb

Shadows licked at her heels. Angry. Consuming. Filled with rage and an uncontainable hatred that was quite frankly unwarranted.

Sure, she might have been a catalyst for Key figuring out how to say fuck you to his family and their messed up beliefs—because Emilia still wasn’t convinced that the Stringer Matriarch hadn’t all but ordered him to kill her when she told her grandson to make sure she never saw her again—but with everything she knew about the boy, he would have gotten there eventually.

Eventually, he would have sought out the truth of the Risen Guard’s corruption, found out how much the Enclave’s training within labyrinths affected their members' mental state. Maybe by the time he found those things out, the world would have worn on him—would have filed his kindness and love down to a point ready to skewer everyone he didn’t already love.

Emilia doubted that would have happened.

There were different sorts of people, when it came to how their unfortunate circumstances affected them. Some people broke, the things that had happened to them turning them into jaded shells, every breath upon their skin liable to shatter their fragile protection. Others bent and morphed, changing themselves into someone who could survive the cruelties of the world. And the rest, small group that it was, refused to change. The world could beat them up, rip out their hearts, chew up their bodies and souls. Still, they’d be the same.

Most black knots Emilia knew were like that—unless they became obsessed with someone, anyways. Nearly every member of The Black Knot had come out of the war perfectly fine, the knots that led most of the population to fear them offering them a protection from the horrors of the world. Other people had popped out of the war perfectly fine as well. Helix was like that, mostly. Sure, he seemed to have a bit more of a temper now, less tolerance for people being stupid assholes, but Emilia wasn’t convinced that wasn’t just him growing into accepting that he was a petty bitch with strong beliefs.

So, Emilia supposed there was another type of person as well: someone who changed for the better, under the pressure of adversity.

Key reminded her of that, her memories of him overlaying with a younger Helix. Smiling, kind, their eyes filling with anger and sadness and passion in equal measure when they witnessed oppression, corruption, horror.

It was a little funny, then, that Sk’lar seemed to be blaming her for Key changing for the better: he would have changed anyways, she was almost sure. Key would have grown and learned and either fucked off from his family or taken it over, hoping that by the time the next visitation came around, his family—perhaps even the Enclave as a whole—would be in a better, more unified position to help.

The Enclave bodyguard did not like when she pointed this out.

⸂He is an obedient boy,⸃ the man snarled, sending a flurry of fire-laced shadows after her, icy heat biting at her back and sending a shudder through her for the simple fact that it felt wrong.

Those shadows felt wrong, and every time one grazed her skin, she felt it all the more poignantly. Visions seeped through her—or were they hallucinations? Images of the aether tearing and breaking, of it being hacked and burnt and sewn back together, flittered through her head. They felt so real, yet the very idea that the aethernet—that the universe—could lose parts of itself was… grotesque.

It happened, yes. Powerful events and attacks could profoundly damage the aether, and her own war-ending assault on it had definitely messed with it in a way that all the classes on creating and using skills said not to.

The things Sk’lar’s shadows showed her were a slow rising horror, however. Emilia wanted to brush them off, claim they were simply the result of some fear aspect in his attacks.

Emilia wasn’t so sure, something about the way dots were lining up in her head, conjecture and stories and fables all piecing together…

Emilia bolted to the side, trying to shake off her thoughts. As much as she wanted to stop and think it through, let Sk’lar’s shadows consume her so she might see the full force of whatever horrors were contained within them, she wasn’t quite ready to give up on doing something good for this world yet. Later. Later, she would think about it, along with her ever-growing list of things that she’d need to deal with in the real world.

Man, she was literally going to have to make a list, wasn’t she? There were just too many little things that were liable to be forgotten about, a thousand strands that she’d been putting off dealing with, had only just found out about, or had stupidly overlooked.

At the very least, this particular issue would land in the

new things to deal with

column—the things that were in the other two columns were extremely depressing. Still, all the tasks related to the aethernet were creating a daunting list on their own. Well, she’d have Conrad to help with it, assuming he showed up at their designated meeting spot, anyways—assuming that he hadn’t been killed by his family, either due to their anger at what had happened or the heartcore’s manipulations.

That

whole situation was also in the

new things to deal with

column.

Behind her, Sk’lar was still ranting about how Key had been a sweet, well-behaved boy before she came along. Emilia would have appreciated the stories he was telling of his friend—asset? client? was Key Sk’lar’s friend?—were they not being screamed at her and interlaced with death threats.

Fortunately, she was faster than the Enclave man, and after some extra effort, had managed to outpace his shadows by a few dozen feet. Switching her brain to autopilot mode, she continued running while searching through her inventory, looking over the blood weapons she had on her person while zigzagging through the now almost deserted hallways.

Occasionally, a Clarity member could be seen wandering about, but they seemed to have realized that Sk’lar wasn’t worth fighting—especially since he was keeping three people who had been wandering around killing anyone they came across distracted—and were giving them a wide berth. Every so often, one would attack one of the northerners, but the pair were skilled—not to mention had some bitch ass defensive abilities—and quickly dispatched anyone who got in their way while they made their way to the agreed upon ambush spot.

So far, Sk’lar had shown no indication that he had a map of his own, nor had he or any other Enclave member ever indicated their system had one. A quick message to Boundary and Rin as she ran indicated that neither of them had ever heard of the Enclave system having a map either, although there were several mapping gifts, so she couldn’t completely rule out the man having a map or the ability to see where they would converge with the northerners.

As such, it would be prudent to spend a little time distracting him while she led him to the ambush point, and several of her recently acquired blood weapons might be able to do so.

Maybe.

It was a bit difficult to be certain, as she’d never used them before. It was worth a shot, though, and as she rounded yet another corner, circling back the way they’d just come because Zyrex had run into several Clarity members and was running late, she smacked one of the weapons she’d stolen from Tobias onto a wall.

The {Blood Stickers} each had arrays written onto them, indicating various traps. Emilia doubted most would be more than a nuisance, but when she heard the first pop, blood and red glitter exploding out over Sk’lar, she smiled. The man screamed, more blood burning holes into his skin and clothing, glitter coating half his body and likely getting into his blood stream while his wounds struggled to seal closed.

It was strange, how blood sometimes burned, sometimes didn’t. Yet another thing that seemed to change at the will of the system, not that Emilia was complaining much about that one. For the most part, the burning aspect of the blood curse had been working for her. It burned when it needed to, left people—most notably her—alone when it needed to.

Another {Blood Stickers} hit the wall, another pop occurred just as she was turning a corner, just catching sight of a glitter encrusted Sk’lar running into a clear barrier.

Snorting, she stopped, knowing she was still half a dozen feet outside his attack range. ⸂Problems?⸃ she asked, all innocence and petty energy. Emilia spun the dagger she had swiped from Conrad—then proceeded to stash in her inventory and forget about—between her fingers. The {Blood Sword} was nice, but something about having Conrad’s only real weapon in her hands—and certainly the only one he’d made with his own hands, perhaps even with his own blood—felt good, right, like a little part of him was still with her.

It had been nice, carrying his energy with her, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Now, would she be admitting to her kinda-sorta friend that she missed having his slightly too-sexual feeling energy lingering inside her? Absolutely not. That man already had a huge ego. He didn’t need it getting any bigger.

Shadow blades split through the clear barrier and Emilia bolted, noting the way Sk’lar’s pace increased. The man still wasn’t fast enough to reach her—she hadn’t been running full out either—but it was a sign that he was pissed.

Good. Pissed people were more volatile, less predictable, and as dangerous as that could be, but they needed the man thinking as erratically as possible.

Smacking another {Blood Sticker} to the floor, thinking the man might have clued in to watch the walls, and not stupid enough to think his rage would completely blind him, Emilia bolted towards the end of the hall. This particular hallway was longer than most, featuring two, mid-hallway intersections with other hallways. One led straight through, creating a cross, while the other came in at an angle, merging with the hallway she had been leading Sk’lar down at a 45° angle he wouldn’t be able to see down—not unless he turned to look backwards down it, anyways.

The perfect place for an ambush, especially since she’d placed the {Blood Sticker} right at the beginning of the first intersection. If Sk’lar had enough sense to search for either of her missing companions, he’d have a bit of trouble when—

Sk’lar skulked towards her, eyes attempting to pin her to the spot. Of course, given she couldn’t really die here and had multiple escape routes, that wasn’t going to work. Good to know where his mental state was at and—

The man’s eyes snapped to the right as he stepped into the intersection, a cloud of smoke erupting around him as the {Blood Sticker}’s array activated. None of the {Blood Stickers} were particularly damaging, more annoying. Funny to watch, too, all things considered. There’d been a lot of beheading and disembowelling of Clarity members, and Emilia was happier with this more lighthearted battle, even if she was positive the man would be torturing her, should he manage to get his hands on her.

That wouldn’t be happening.

⸂You!⸃ the man in question snarled, surging out of the smoke towards her, so irate that he didn’t even bother to wonder why she was just standing there, waiting for him to reach her.

Not that he would.

Hyr slid out of the intersection behind him, their previously suppressed energy rising into a wave of power that filled the world with wind that whipped across Sk’lar’s back, sending him sprawling forward, knees and head slamming to the ground, just ahead of the angled intersection.

Emilia turned and sprinted, as fast as she could manage, and turned a corner, another, getting as far away from the northerners as she could, an eruption of fire exploding behind her, Hyr’s wind whipping Zyrex’s flames into an inferno that they hadn’t been sure they could contain well enough to protect her.

They were safe, according to them—they’d been training this technique in the real world for many years, and knew how to put up their own defensive walls—and her map—two light purple dots indicated their locations. Zyrex was moving, heading back to where his path met up with the hallway Hyr had come out of, while Hyr was still standing there, focusing on keeping the flames relatively contained—they didn’t want to burn down the whole building.

Eventually, they’d snuff out the flames, once Sk’lar was dead.

Oddly, the Enclave member wasn’t dead, despite the raging flames that welcomed Emilia when she finally circled around to meet the others.

⸂Why isn’t he dead?⸃ she asked, stepping in towards the relative safety of Zyrex, a thin barrier of shimmering blue-gold surrounding him.

The hy let her in, pulled her close, his expression pinched, black eyes focused towards where Sk’lar didn’t so much as scream. “Could his shadows have protected him?”

⸂Maybe?⸃ It wasn’t like she knew anything more about the guy than they did. He was a creep, something that was pretty obvious to anyone who met him.

“Should Hyr drop—”

“No,” Hyr said, their voice dark and strained. “Something is wrong. We should not release him.”

Release him

sounded so not good, but Emilia couldn’t really argue: something was clearly keeping the man alive, but for the moment, it didn’t seem like he could attack them back. Better to leave him contained, while they figured out what to do next—how to actually get rid of him.