Arcanist In Another World-Chapter 43: Monster

Out of the deep darkness of her eyes oozed squirming tendrils reaching toward him. Sharp nails scraping at the ground, crying in a shrill scream that dinned in his ears. His skin prickled with fear. His heart thumped hard in his chest. Everywhere in his body there was a slimy, sticky feeling that seemed to be getting worse.

The young woman was close to him, hissing through yellow teeth, rot dripping from the tip of her black tongue. She cackled with mad, raspy laughter. She snapped her head round, and her neck cracked, and bones jutted out of her ribcage, tips bloody and sharp like daggers, inching ever so closer to his chest.

He couldn’t do anything. Apathy was there for a moment and gone after a labored breath wheezing out of his lips. The Resonance was riddled with cries and pitches too strange for him to recognize. The woman’s song was gone, veiled under a being so sinister, so unalive that Valens couldn’t recognize her anymore.

“Who are you?” he croaked, mouth dry with dread. He tried to kick himself away from the woman, but the steely hold of her hands fixed him in his place. He sank into the muddy ground. Knee-deep now and too spent to flail. His shoulders popped. Pain flooded over the Resonance like streams through a broken dam.

Everything hurt.

He reached for Apathy, the ever-relieving web, to gain control of his mind. It wasn’t there. All he found was a deep, dark nothing. Dawn's lights were gone. The songs of the world quieted.

And the shadow loomed larger still.

Lifesurge threads bloomed over his hands. Lifemana cuddled him tight and spread gentle warmth across his skin. The shadowy tendrils hissed at the touch of them, squirming like worms faced with dangerous acid. Yet they pressed on, thousands of them, tiny jagged teeth biting into his flesh.

His mouth parted with a silent scream. He peered into the darkness itself, an abomination wicked beyond logic. Immaterial. This was nothing like facing a Skeleton or an Oarfang. There was nothing for him to face here.

But he could protect himself. Do something to alleviate the pain stabbing at his core. Another Lifesurge roared alive, and the threads of it curled around his heart, down through his veins, pouring in waves over his legs. His toes twitched. Sensation slowly returned as he nursed his body back to health. Getting rid of this ominous influence, inch by inch, he claimed back control as he raised his head and gazed at the pair of black eyes.

No more the Healer. This called for the Warmage who had no regard for the empty oaths.

Thousands of worms over his skin, a thick shroud that threatened to drown him. Inferno lashed at them quick as a whip, stabbing into the dark tides like lights of the morning sun. His chest heaved. The heat of his own spell filled his brain with blinding pain. He blinked. He breathed. He felt Apathy there over his emotions, the broken net picking itself back from the pieces.

He felt it settle back once again. The pain and the fear, the invisible dread taking hold of his heart… Gone. Then he pulled himself off to his feet, slowly, deliberately, reaching for the woman’s hands that remained over his shoulders. He clasped them hard with his own hands and pulled the woman close.

She shrieked, a hellish scream that was anything but human. It wasn’t Selin. It was something else. A sickness, true, but one that Valens had no prior knowledge of. He had to burn it away. There was no other way.

Inferno spattered over the squirming shadow of the woman, ripping into its tails like famished beasts out for fresh prey. They consumed the evil and swallowed it with a burning fervor, the woman screaming and thrashing, her nails digging deeper and deeper still inside Valens’s body.

But pain was nothing a Lifesurge couldn’t fix. Waves of lifemana stitched every hole that opened around his veins and cut into the nails, ripped across them easily as though a sharp sword through a rotten branch. Clumps of it were slathered with Lifesurge threads, bound and forced back from inside his body, cast away in slimy bits down the ground.

Valens rose to his full height and gazed at the woman. Flames devoured her shadow, now getting closer to her icy skin. She looked so brittle. Weak and senseless to have a chance against the angry flames. Yet her dark eyes were still full of poison, veins wriggling underneath her shell like scared little centipedes.

This was no human. This was a monster deserving a painful death.

No.

Flames lashed at the glass-like skin. Burnt painful holes across her arms. Seeped insidiously through her veins, around her lungs, and up into her heart.

No.

Her eyes squinted in pain. The darkness that had taken hold of them receded as the flames consumed her from within. She blinked as though unaware of her surroundings. Horror twisted her face.

No.

She screamed. Pleaded with teary eyes, blood streaming down her face. But Valens wouldn’t be deceived a second time. He had learned his lessons.

Stop.

He looked at her with indifference. Watched her burn and burn away. Trash over the ground like a sickly little girl, too small and afraid to do anything. Death would be her remedy. It would keep her clean.

“Eats away the mind.”

Valens shivered. He cast his gaze around him in haste, fingers of his right hand trembling. Captain Edric was there, watching him with a hand over his sword. Garran and Dain were focused on the woman, hesitating as though they weren’t sure if they should intervene. Celme had torn her eyes away from the woman and was frowning out into the sky. Marcus rocked back and forth over the ground, arms cuddled around his knees.

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“Who?” Valens demanded. That voice was no more. Not in this place, and not in this bare patch of dirt. He was in a different world, his Master was. Already dead, perhaps, body buried nameless under some mountain where nobody could find him. That was about how things went with offenders. Inquisition erased their existence not only by killing them but also by making sure they remained forgotten.

Valens snapped back at the woman, half of her body burnt beyond recognition. She was still alive, still breathing, eyes wide with painful emptiness. She was looking at Valens as if he was the monster, as if he was the darkness that claimed her. As if he wasn’t the one who dealt with that shadow.

“I—“ Valens paused and swept his hand over the air to quench the Inferno. Stepped forth through the burning rain and kneeled beside the woman. He stretched a hand out and scowled when the woman dragged herself screaming back from him, clawing at the mud.

“Please!” she cried. “Please don’t kill me!”

Valens swallowed. He… wasn’t trying to kill her, was he? There was a shadow. The evil that’d taken hold of her. The Inferno was aimed at it, not the woman. Why did she look so torn, then? All that blood and burnt skin, bones poking out of her chest, all broken in bits. She was barely breathing. Her frequencies… Valens frowned. She was not long for this world.

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“I hate half-measured bastards,” Garran muttered, shaking his head. He was standing by Dain for a moment, then appeared by the woman with the Wraithspike raised high over his head. Burning still with the embers of the wood. The runes over its surface all bright and gleaming. “Next time, finish the deed when you’re at it, will you?” He breathed and stabbed the sharp tip down into the woman’s chest.

Valens flicked a finger. From the mud under the man’s feet a block of solid earth shot up and caught him by the chest. Flung him away a good two paces, down the ground with his armored feet sliding across the stretch. He gave a surprised yelp at the speed of it, then turned at Valens with narrowed eyes.

“Gone mad, have you?” he said, mouth curled with distaste. “Or have you decided to finish her off by yourself?”

“There’s nothing to finish off,” Valens said and hated his voice the moment the words poured out. Hated this man who could remain so calm after nearly killing an innocent woman. “The shadow’s gone.”

“Stab her.” Captain Edric’s voice was brutally emotionless and focused solely on the mission. “There’s no escape from the dark veil. Once you’re in, you can never come back unless you have a Hexmender sane enough to see his own fingers.”

Garran wiped the side of his lips, grunted his way to the woman, glancing briefly at the earth block before hauling the spike like a dog seeking its master’s approval. He brought it down with all his worth as the runes over the spike glinted once again.

“No.” Valens pulled a finger up, and the Gravitating Earth pushed the man from two sides. Garran frowned slightly as he leapt back to avoid getting stabbed by the earth blocks. “You can’t kill her.”

“He’s truly gone mad,” Garran said sourly.

“Step aside, Healer,” Captain Edric’s voice had a sharp quality to it as he spoke. “Unless you want a sword through your neck. The deed must be done.”

Valens scowled at the pair of them, then back at the woman with difficulty. She was bleeding. Burnt like a log over the flames, faint wheezing of her breaths growing silent by the second.

“The shadow is gone. I watched my spell consume every piece of it. Scorched it through her veins. Nearly killed her to cleanse every bit of that evil,” Valens said. Yes, he was trying to save her. He hadn’t lost his control. He had no other choice but to hurt her, as the shadow had seeped into every part of her body.

Liar.

Garran turned dubiously to the captain. The man frowned with a hand under his chin. He rubbed at his clean face, then trudged briskly over to the woman, gave a biting glance to Valens as he passed by him. When he unsheathed the sword, Valens stepped back and raised his hand.

“Don’t be a fool,” Captain Edric said to him. “I wouldn’t have a use for my sword if I decided to kill you.”

The weapon screamed a clear cry as the captain pulled it free from the sheath, dawn lights gleaming across its smooth surface. A round, multi-faceted jewel cocked inside its cross began glowing as the captain brought it near the woman. Garran and Dain loomed behind him, eyeing Valens with clear doubt.

“Captain, what’s our plan with this mad fool?” Garran asked. “I’d rather not kill him even if it turns out that he lied to us. What do you say, Dain?”

Dain shrugged.

“Guess you’re right. Let the captain decide,” Garran said. They had a different way of communicating, where Garran used words and his sharp tongue while Dain, more often than not, decided to settle on a shrug or a nod. That, and the occasional ‘Fool’ that never came out right.

Valens swallowed. He wanted to step in and take a look at the woman’s state with a Lifeward down through her core. To check if there was anything left from that shadow still hiding inside. To see if he could save her from death creeping slowly into her heart, but a part of him refused to move.

He’d been a Healer most of his life. Now, he didn’t know what he was anymore.

“It’s clear,” Captain Edric said, tapping a wary finger on the gleaming jewel. Its pristine surface was alive with golden lights, shining brightly over his golden armor. A frown stretched his lips thin as he looked over to Garran. “It’s gone.”

“Can’t be,” Garran muttered as he squatted down near the woman, peering into her eyes. Seemed he was waiting for an inkling of a reaction, perhaps a flinch or a wince from the woman that would prove the shadow’s lingering filth. The runes over the Wraithspike alighted, and multicolored lights spilled out over the woman.

Nothing happened.

“It’s not there,” Garran said shakily. “How can this be?”

“I told you I’ve dealt with that shadow.” Valens forced himself to take a step toward the woman. Under their hesitant gazes, he stretched a hand out and felt her forehead cold under his palm. Getting colder still as he called a Lifeward.

This is right. This feels right. This is what I should do.

She choked at his touch. Turned wearily to the side and wheezed out a pitiful breath. A terrible rasping, hissing whiff of air rattled out from her lungs. The inner web of her body was a mess. Burnt skin through her robe, burnt veins, and burnt everything. Valens stood silent at the sight of his own doing.

Lifesurge threads washed over her as she finally passed out in pain. Down her skin, into her lungs, nursing everything with painful dedication. The arteries and the veins. Her soft, rosy cheeks were smeared with her own blood, and dried streaks of crimson splattered all around her face. Valens wiped them with a patch from his robe, face creased, and heart pounding in his chest. Calling for the Healer within him but not wishing to hear his words.

Only the patient, now. Nothing new and nothing complicated. An hour of work. Over the ground rather than a stretcher. A pair of warriors instead of assistants. Men speaking. Men whispering. Men hesitating. Not the white-washed walls around him anymore, rendered and cleaned after every operation. Only the dawn lights being consumed by the dark clouds, and a sky that was getting dreary by the second.

But the work scarcely changed. Another Lifesurge inside, through the blood flow, picking the ashes apart. Stitching every broken hole with perfect precision. Master Eldras would’ve been proud. But then, Valens couldn’t bring himself to think about him anymore.

Heavy silence through it all. The woman’s pulse returned back to its healthy rhythm. The frequencies of her body streamed into a song of natural cadence, of a peaceful rest and forgotten pain, of the joy of being whole again. Her breaths came out in long, deep sighs. Chest rose and fell in muted appreciation.

Valens wiped the sweat off his face. She would need more sessions for her skin, but she would live. Whether she could forgive him or not…

That’s not relevant anymore.

“We’ll get her to the cathedral,” Captain Edric said when Valens picked himself off the ground, muscles aching with the effort. “Have Lenore check on her.”

“Shit on that crazy woman, captain. I’d say we kill her here and be quick about it. No need to bring a maniac into the case,” Garran said. He might’ve lacked the zealous madness in his eyes, but he’d proved himself equally twisted with Mas, if for different reasons. A man of practicality, Valens presumed, one that didn’t want to deal with complications.

“Is she going to be okay?” Celme’s voice was warm and familiar, her words like a soothing song in Valens’s ears. Finally, someone who had an ounce of humanity left in them to ask about the young woman.

“Yes,” Valens said. Apathy settled back over his mind, and the fear and the rage quieted. Became distant noises to the intelligent part of his brain. “But there’s no cure for painful memories. She will have to live with them.”

“She will,” Celme said, laying a warm hand over Valens’s shoulder. Her blonde hair danced in the morning breeze, still sullied by blood and mud but beautiful in a way that sprinkled easing relief down through Valens’s chest. “Our people are strong. We all learn to live with our shadows.”

“That thing…” Valens muttered as he gazed back at Selin. “It spoke to me. I thought it was Selin at first, but it wasn’t. That voice belonged to that shadow, or whatever it was.”

“Delirium.” Captain Edric trudged off toward them with a hand over his sword, looking somewhere between mildly bothered and slightly relieved. He jerked a thumb back at Selin. “The shadow’s tongue. Not much of a language, but a bunch of noises they make when you force them out from the victim. Vile and wicked, eh, Healer?”

“A bunch of noises?” Valens said.

“Some nonsensical bullshit,” Garran said sourly. “There’s been an effort at deciphering the vowels from the Scribes, but they’ve not much to show for it. If people knew all the horrors under the cathedral—“

“Enough,” Captain Edric’s face twitched at Garran, then he glanced at Valens. “We’ll keep her close for now. You can treat her on the way. Wasted enough time with this case already, and I won’t have a bunch of miners screaming into my face just because a stray Healer decided he could take shadows with an Inferno.”

“Sool,” Dain muttered.

“Uh,” Garran grunted. “Brackley, was it? Can’t we go round that town and straight into the capital, captain? You think it’d be wise to bring this woman—“

“Wise or not, the Umbril was silent. We can’t kill her unless we’re sure the shadow is still in there somewhere.”

“Great,” Garran said and brisked off with the spike hauled over his shoulder. Valens heard him mumble to himself about ‘mines’ and ‘the stench’ on his way.

“Keep an eye on her.” Captain Edric’s voice brought his attention back to the present. “Make sure she lives.”

Valens breathed in. “I will, captain.”

“Good,” Captain Edric smiled. “Then back to the carriage. We need to have your bunch washed down and cleaned up in Brackley. Can’t go around reeking of rot and blood in a town. We have a reputation to keep.”

“I can use a bath,” Celme said. “Lord knows it's been a long week.”

A bath, Valens thought. Yes, he could use a bath as well to wash this filth off of him, but that part about the shadow’s tongue… It bothered him still.

It wasn’t nonsense that came out in that rasping voice. Valens heard her well and clear. She, or whatever that evil influence was, told him he didn’t belong here.

It knew? Or was it a coincidence?

…..