Chương 212: 200. Doctor's orders

"I'm pretty sure giving someone dementia isn't part of your skill set. Don't get me wrong, but you're not there yet. And as for your father… from my experience, sacrifice for their children comes to them naturally. If his actions were for you, it would be a good death." He gave a short laugh, his eyes still glued to the darkness of the parking lot.

"Too naturally," he whispered before continuing.

"The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. Every clinic we tried had a new, different idea, each more costly than the last. But do you know what the worst part was?" He turned slightly in his wheelchair to look up at me.

"It was the hope. Every scan they did, every physical exam, everything was all right. Nothing on ultrasounds, CT scans, and any other imaging device on God's earth. My legs just wouldn't work. My parents said I used to move them when I was a child, so I should still be able to, right? So they tried one doctor after another. Some suggested a mental issue, so then it was psychiatrists. Others suggested microtumors, so chemotherapy, and so on and so forth." He paused, looking back in front of himself.

"I imagine it all cost a lot," I said, prompting him to continue.

"Oh yes. Three different jobs. I barely saw my father. My mother took care of the rest and also worked, but her own health wasn't in top shape either. And finally, one day, Dad just didn't come back. We called, searched, nothing… Police came three days later. He got involved with the mafia to pay for my treatments. Got him killed… My treatments got him killed." He gave an involuntary, ironic smile.

"The ones you just said would never work, no matter what. Those got him killed…"

"You couldn't have known."

"Yeah, I get that much. Doesn't really help, you know, no matter how many times I repeat it. To make it worse, they never found the guy who did it, probably someone higher up in the organization. My mother didn't take that well. And that night, when the police came, my gift, it kinda… grew?" he half asked.

"That can happen to mages. High emotions, fear, and stress awaken the mana. I imagine something similar happened to you."

"Well, it happened in the worst moment possible." I smiled at his words.

"That's how the world works. I know some who believe the universe itself has a sense of humor. It's just that it's a really dark one." I noticed a shadow of a genuine smile pass his lips before they fell back into a grimace.

"That it does. My gift strengthened. What had previously been whispers turned into screams. I couldn't stop it. I could sense the emotions of those around me. And the worst one? Among all the people I sensed? Was my mother. She… She blamed me for what happened to Dad. And every day she told me she didn't, I knew she lied. Her feelings were like tar pouring over me each time I saw her. There was this tic, this flicker on her face I could sense before she got her emotions under control.

Her mental state began deteriorating. She could barely control herself, and one day—one day, I just couldn't take it. I confronted her. We argued, and then…" He grew silent.

"You attacked like you just did to me," I said.

"Yes. She fainted. And when she woke up, her mind… she wasn't the same person. She barely remembered me." He finished speaking, his voice almost breaking. Not only could I see the pain on his face but also feel it in the aura around him. It spilled into the very air. A fascinating sensation. Had I opened my mind, I might even have reflected it, sensed his suffering myself. It was almost tempting…

"Well," I said, shaking off the strange idea, "if it's any consolation, you don't have enough power to leave a permanent injury like that," I explained to the downtrodden Josh.

"All you did was aggravate an already existing wound and most likely speed up something that was right around the corner. If one attack really caused such a change, then a rapid deterioration was coming, and coming fast." He nodded his head absentmindedly.

"I hope you're right… Well, anyway. I hate reading minds. Every time I do, every time I feel myself in someone's head, it feels like I'm in my old house, my thoughts mixing with my mother's. Every time, it's like a cold hand grips my abdomen and squeezes, then twists. I hate it…" I took a deep breath and then exhaled, using the time to pick my words.

"Well," I began slowly, "you're gonna have to either get over it or get used to it." He flinched at my words.

"As you learned in your life, the world doesn't care about sadness and hardship." Each of my words took him further aback. I could see he was also getting slightly angry, even if he did not realize it himself, as the sensation seemed to creep into his aura.

"I can just quit," he spat.

"If you want to quit, then be my guest," I replied. He fully turned to me with a frown. I could feel his mind extend lightly, a simple touch on my aura, trying to feel my mood before retreating after getting nothing. His mind was acting out of instinct as he clearly wasn't controlling it.

"Are you serious?"

"What did you expect, begging?"

"No. But… some help? I hoped you'd offer a solution beyond get over it." I let a short laugh escape my lips.

"I think you're mistaken about something. I can turn a middle-of-the-pack mage into a good one. I can teach spells, skills, techniques, and ancient knowledge. But I can't teach mindset. I can stress-test and bring out a will that's already there, but if it's not, then there's nothing I can do. I do think you have that will inside. I think you have potential. But reading people isn't my specialty. If you're too weak, then quit." Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent.

Report any sightings. He stayed still for some time, lost in his thoughts, listening to the silence around us. I felt something tug lightly at my senses in that stretch of silence. But before I could wonder what my instincts were telling me, he spoke again.

"Fine, let's see about that will. So it's mental defense next? Or do I have to repeat today?"

"No, you did well. We'll work on your defense." I was glad he didn't fold right there, but his tone seemed to indicate a postponed decision rather than a full commitment. I decided to check out his father's case, as maybe there was something to be done there. Nothing like good old revenge to motivate a lad, after all.

"Well, let's…" I paused as the weirdness finally registered with me. The parking lot was quiet, very quiet. The song of the night critters was entirely missing from the background. Something was not right.

"Get in the car," I commanded Josh, changing my tone from casual to firm.

"So I guess the pep talk's over, huh?" he chuckled, but when he looked up at me, he immediately noticed something was wrong.

"Get in the car and lock the door. Keep your head down, below the windows," I commanded and took a few steps in front of the van. I looked around, snapping my irises open as my consciousness extended around me. Sure enough, there was a strange aura nearby, most likely scaring off the night critters, their primitive brains picking up on the danger. The presence felt weird, human but with an edge, akin to a loaded spring. Its source was far enough away not to be obvious, but was approaching slowly.

I let the staff unravel into my hand and called on Sally, for now, in the form of a large dog sitting by my side. Finally, from the line of trees near the parking lot, a man approached. To my surprise, he was wearing a doctor's uniform. It was dirty and torn, decorated with splashes of unidentified liquids, some of which were even faintly fluorescent. He was middle-aged with thinning hair, although as he approached, I noticed it wasn't so much thinning as pulled out in patches, leaving bald spots.

He also walked slightly tilted, his gait uneven, almost limping.

"That's far enough," I said out loud, pre-casting Pierce.

"What?" He raised his eyes to me, eyebrows knit in an expression of confusion.

"I said that's far enough."

"Sir, I'm just going to the office to drop off documents. No need for hostility." He tried to lie, which was almost funny considering his overall presence.

"Then you can walk around us," I said in a calm, even voice.

"Hehe." A chuckle escaped his lips. The man dropped the rather weak act and, bending forward, began laughing like I had just told a great joke. The cackling continued until it gave way to a cough.

"Ahhhh." He exhaled, getting the outburst under control.

"Not sure what I was expecting. You didn't seem that stupid."

"And you are?" A smile split his face, showing bloated gums missing some of the teeth. Judging by the state of the flesh, it was a rather recent thing, as some of the wounds in his mouth still bled.

"I'm Terry."

"Almost a pleasure. I'm—""Samuel Alhazred. I know who you are."

"That's rather unfair. I have no clue who you are," I said, then stopped him from speaking by stretching my hand.

"Wait, let me guess. You approach in the middle of the night. You seem to know me. You look like a psycho, and you clearly have a disease. I assume you're related to the recent trap I found myself in. Am I correct?"

"Disease?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Oh no, no, no. This is my blessing, a miracle of Lazarus," he began. While he spoke, I made a fist and smiled, flexing my muscles in a gesture of triumph.

"First guess. Still got it. By the abyss, the FBI should learn from me." He tilted his head, looking at me with pity.

"Yeah, keep joking. If that makes it easier for you, I don't mind."

"I'm afraid I'm all out of humor after that one," I said, keeping the smile on my face.

"So, disciple, apostle, servant of Lazarus, or whatever you call yourself. What brings you to this parking lot?"

"Bodies."

"That makes two of us. They're in the morgue. Just talk with the attending doctor, and they'll lead you—""Your bodies," he specified.

"That one might be harder. We're kinda using them right now. But if you wait a few hundred years, I might die of old a—" The attack came suddenly at a speed barely perceptible to the naked eye. Thankfully, I was prepared, as my Shield materialized the moment the projectile almost pierced me. In the same motion, I fired the Pierce spell right between his eyes. The attack connected, leaving a large hole in the middle of his face.

But his aura barely changed as the flesh squirmed and undulated, drawing itself together, with fleshy tendrils beginning to stitch the hole shut. I used the moment to see what exactly the attack was and, to my surprise, saw something akin to a gun. It was clearly enchanted and heavily modified to launch special projectiles, but its sound and overall shape resembled a large handgun's. Then I noticed movement near my feet and saw that the projectile was squirming, using many small tentacles to crawl toward me.

It looked like a stinger merged with fleshy tendrils.

"Ugh," I grimaced, looking at the thing, praying to the old ones it never landed in my flesh.

"I was really hoping," the creature spoke back up, its voice mutated at first, flowing through a damaged mouth, only to come out normal by the fourth word, "that this would kill you," he said with genuine regret.

"Well, likewise. Impressive healing."

"Impressive reflexes."

"I don't suppose seeing my impressive casting, if I say so myself, made you realize you stand no chance and decide to roll over dead?"

"Hehe. They told me you're arrogant."

"Who are they?" I asked, hoping to get an answer, only to be rudely ignored.

"Once I bring you to her, the queen will take me back. There is no life without her. So please, kindly give up, and I can give you to her whole and intact." I just clicked my tongues and began casting, preparing to shred the enemy with a quick attack. The man opposite me finally opened his doctor's coat, revealing a rather unpleasant sight, even by my standards. His body had growths similar to tumors, except for the separate auras they gave off like fully conscious beings in their own right.

On his lower ribs, there were four fleshy sac-like growths, evenly spaced and cleanly grafted to the skin. The upper ribs had five more. These, however, were different, uneven, and hastily stitched to the flesh. The wounds where they were sewn were still red and leaking pus. The eggs pulsated, and before he could try to pull anything from them, I fired dual-cast Cutting Storms into his upper chest, trying not to cut into the sacs attached to his body.

I commanded Sally to deal with the projectiles from the strange gun the man still held in his arms and prepared for another spell, as my attacks, even before they hit their mark, didn't wipe the strange smile from his face.