Chương 210: Act 3, Chapter 60: Four men and one date / the fourth man

Day in the story: 23rd January (Friday) Alexandra May"He is not picking up from us either, Alexa," Evan replied to my question about Jason. We sat in the dining hall on a break between classes.

"And he hasn't shown up for a week or so. We joked that he got jealous of Peter's FBI training and is studying the way of the friggin' sword in some vacation mansion of his or something."

"Yeah. Probably," I answered, but it wasn't looking good. Ever since I got my additional brains, I realized that Jason's strange behavior could be due to Malik's shadow having a strong influence over him. And even though the Domain's look changed, that other Malik could still be in there, and the love for his brother might prove detrimental to my plans on how to dispose of him. Finding Jason before he got in my way would be instrumental in making sure he didn't appear and make things more difficult for me.

"You miss him or what?"

"Of course not. Left my best panties at his apartment and want them back," I shot back, making him shut up with his comments.

"If you hear from him, can you let me know?"

"Yes."

"Great," I replied, taking an already empty plate with me and waving him off. I moved through the hall, deep in my thoughts. I texted and called him many times. I'd planted spy-ders in his apartment too, but it was difficult to tell if he'd been there a minute ago or a week before, due to his aversion to making it look personal. For all I knew, he hadn't been there for at least two days, as that's how long my minions had been stationed there.

I had Maya look for an echoing brand of magic when she was looking for music too, but we were not sure whether he was using that or something else. And secondly, whether he was using magic at all. The Domain he took over from Malik had been closed to my attempts to get inside. Every time I tried, my soul had been put under so much stress while battling his Authority that I just gave up. And now even his closest friends proved to be of no use in trying to find him.

"It's you, isn't it?" A sudden, familiar voice brought me out of my thoughts as I walked through the alley to the building that housed the Interdisciplinary Lab—where my next lecture was supposed to be. I didn't have to turn to see a man of Chinese descent to my right, coming from the other lane between other students. He pushed them aside gently while getting closer to me. He wore a cap, brown trousers, and boots, along with a puffy grey jacket.

I knew the face as soon as I saw it, despite the fact that I hadn't seen him in a long time—and the posters of him had long been torn off the posts.

"I don't know you," I replied, turning toward him and furrowing my brows. He'd only seen me in the Usagi mask, so there was no reason to assume that he knew what I really looked like.

"But we met. I am certain it's you." He was the one who ran along with me and the guys through Chinatown and over the building bridge before I'd sent him here.

"Not my fault."

"Oh, come on," he muttered under his breath as I kept walking away. He, unfortunately, ran to catch up to me.

"I've been looking for you forever!" I turned around to face him.

"Listen here." I pointed a finger at him.

"I remember you now. You're the guy who was supposedly harassing everyone on campus. I think that 'supposedly' can be safely dropped now, don't you?"

"Yep, got to be you. Same attitude."

"What exactly do you want from me?" I decided on a different approach, while at the same time misdirecting his attention for a second with a sudden turn of my head. He followed the motion to check what caught my eye, and in that moment I quickly infused one of the fighter folded wasps in my bag, teleported it to my hand, and released it behind me with a command to fly high and cover above the man, unseen.

"I want to follow you."

"I am not on Insta."

"Insta?" he asked, confused.

"No, that's not what I meant. I want to follow you in your adventures. You have great power if you managed to get through the Mirrored City and back."

"I'm at a loss here. Did you try a medical professional? Something seems to be wrong with you."

"You're keeping it a secret?"

"That's it. I'm out of here. Do not ever come close to me or I will call the cops." I told him, then turned around, feigning enough outrage to get the attention of everyone close enough.

"I can't let you go."

"Watch me," I replied and started walking away. Unfortunately for both him and me, he decided once again to go after me. His approach changed from passive to aggressive—black and red shadowlight settled over his frame like the first time I ever laid eyes on him, a deep, fiery-looking thing, almost like wood burning over a hot furnace. The wasp struck down from the air as soon as a new order flowed into it over my invisible shadowlight link, and I had decisions to make.

I could have left—teleporting out and leaving the guy here while protecting my identity as a mage—but at the same time, there were hardly any cameras here, and he was outright dangerous to me, and therefore could be to my friends. I did something else I was good at—I ran. I bolted as fast as I could toward the doors of the nearest building, while he swatted away the wasp, destroying it in one swoop.

He was surprised briefly by the course of action, but with his body supported by shadowlight, he was faster and was gaining ground on me with every stride. His body swelled with muscles that bulged so hard they tore his clothes apart and yet it did not slow him down. People around were shouting in terror, seeing him change like that. They did not help in any way however, when I dropped right onto the ground in front of me. I stumbled as my left side paralyzed mid-motion.

A jolt of pain ran through my soul, and it was enough for the guy to catch up to me and grab me with oversized hands, lifting me into the air in a tight breath-expelling squeeze. I had run in here hoping to reach a spot below the cameras to call Usagear and fight him off, but in the state I was in, I lost both control of the left side of my body and control of my abilities. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Mistress will be glad," the monstrosity the Chinese guy turned into said through a wicked smile full of sharp teeth.

"So glad." He squeezed harder right as a man who hadn't been there a second ago drove a glowing, fiery knife into that swollen mass of muscle in his abdomen. It seared the skin and whatever lay beneath, forcing him to drop me onto the ground. I will never get to do my job, Alex complained in my mind as he drove a kick into the man's groin and followed with a punch that sent him reeling backward.

The initial stab hadn't drawn any blood—whether due to Ghostflame's nature or some other reason entirely, I couldn't tell.

"What!? Who are you!?" the monster shouted, startled by my Persona's sudden appearance. It wasn't me who had summoned him. Alex had called the spellbook to himself, selected the University anchor, and sprinted toward me until he was close enough to use the phone's cover as a point of connection to blink into position at my side. He could not teleport directly to any of my tattoos as my aura sense stopped working around my body.

The Sword of the Rose flared into his hands in a burst of multicolored shadowlight as the knife vanished into the Domain. He slashed at the man's side, but the blow was deflected with a swift motion. The force sent the sword flying, though it remained tethered by Alex's Authority, ready to return. One brave—or foolish—student decided to step in. He rushed to my position and dragged me away from the fight.

Once we were far enough, two more joined him, lifting me off the ground and carrying me into the building I had been trying to reach.

"Are you okay?" the first one asked. I recognized him vaguely—he studied with Peter and the others—but his name escaped me.

"Alexa, right?" he added when I didn't respond. I couldn't answer. My body was locked in a constant surge of pain, my soul stretched thin as if one half of it were trying to catch the other, but never could. I let the question hang unanswered and leaned back against the wall behind the bench they had set me on. Alex Weatherlight People gathering around us were quickly becoming a problem.

Phones were raised, cameras pointed straight at the fight between me and this monster and I was not planning on keeping him alive. Fortunately for me, I was already wearing a mask meant to make me look like Rhythm—Malik's dear, fratricidal brother. The misfortune of the situation was that I would have to fight with music to keep the pretense. Something we were still just learning to do. It was easy with painting or drawing—most of the time, what you see is what you get.

You wouldn't say that an oil painting of fire is about flames and burning, as much as it portrays the thing. Music, on the other hand, is about something. It describes a process instead of showing it outright. And whether Robbie didn't care how he manifested parts of those soundtracks—we did. We required identity to operate. That's why, so far, we settled on just a few tracks: ones that portrayed a process or a phenomenon not only through words, but through rhythm, cadence, voices, instruments, and melody.

All of it contributed to the final artistic creation, just like color, shapes, technique, subject, style, and perspective did in a painting. I dodged with a fluid motion to the side, pressing a hand behind my back to the ground and cartwheeling away, landing on both feet while leaving one of my singing blades on the ground behind me—somewhere my opponent wouldn't look anymore. His attack went right past me: straight punch that cracked the air with its force.

A follow-up left hook aimed to throw me aside, but I slipped underneath it, moving close to his body, leaving another knife buried in his thigh as I rolled over his lunging leg. I landed behind him and cut through his hamstring. At that moment, We Didn't Start the Fire began playing through the blade embedded in his leg. Its rapid cadence, relentless lyrics, and rising crescendo painted a clear image of flames consuming everything in their path.

The monster looked down, trying to understand what was happening, while the severed muscle forced him to drop to one knee. I stepped onto his back and, with a sharp twist, kicked him in the head, sending him crashing to the side. With a flicker of my will, the song became what it represented. Each beat, each word ignited sparks and flames across his body. Within seconds, fire devoured him. People either fled in panic or stood frozen, still filming—transfixed by the violence of a body thrashing in flames.

As he struggled against the consuming inferno, I stepped back, watching and measuring whether this would be enough. Then Clair de Lune began to play from the first blade I had left behind. Its melody flowed through the air, carrying a sense of calm. It became what it represented. I felt it brush against my own mind, promising peace, equilibrium and serenity. But that wasn't for me. That was for them. And so with the help of the Brain Web I resisted.

I did not want Reality to intervene, so the more normal and calm it felt, the better it was for me. I did not have much luck. That's the unfortunate truth of life. The beast-man wasn't done with the fire. His skin, covered in black and red shadowlight, shone beneath the flames before they finally died, completely stripped from his flesh. He coated himself in that light as a form of total protection. Something to take note of. Then he forced the knife out and crushed it in his enormous hand.

His face looked peaceful, controlled, as if nothing bothered him. I circled him, wondering if this mind-affecting song of mine might serve better in this fight. He pressed his fist into the open palm of his other hand, staring straight into my eyes. Then he took a wide stance, inviting me to come at him.

"I will get to her, sooner or later," he said, like it meant more than simple obsession.

"I don't care about her at all," I replied.

"I am the Rhythm. Soundtracks personified. All shall bow to me." I played to an audience. Might as well start here, since I was already dressed for the occasion.

"You are no master of mine," he replied, just as campus security came into my field of view. I rushed toward him. His fist launched forward and somehow hit me despite the distance, as if tendrils of shadowlight had reached out. I dropped and rolled away just in time. His fists slammed into the ground instead of me. He followed with relentless attacks. I focused on moving, evading, while leaving a singing blade behind in the chaos.

It immediately began playing In the Hall of the Mountain King, starting from the middle of the piece, all thanks to Catansi choosing well. The relentless notes built into a crescendo of incoming force. Power surged outward from the knife's position, striking him again and again, forcing him to adjust, staggering him under the constant pressure. I did not expect it to stop him, a cut hamstring cut never did. But I hoped for at least some damage.

Right before the cacophony was broken by officers shouting at both of us to stop. The monstrous Chinese man turned toward them. The moment they saw his half-burned face, teeth sharp like a shark's, they opened fire without hesitation. He wrapped himself in shadowlight again, stopping every bullet. They must have emptied their entire magazines into him, to no avail. But in that confusion, I ordered the sword I had launched earlier to descend from the sky and drive itself straight into his head.

It came down like a spear thrown from the heavens, driving straight at him. Unfortunately, it missed. He weaved aside at the last second, and the blade tore through his shoulder instead. And apparently, having a longsword lodged in your body isn't much of a problem, because he turned to me right after and rushed in, throwing attack after attack. I blocked what I could, but it didn't matter much. The hits kept landing anyway, forcing me back, wearing at my soul with each blow.

I reached for the closest art, looking for an anchor, but teleportation didn't work. He caught me in some kind of aura, locking me in place. I was stuck there, just like my blade was stuck in him. Then he grabbed me and squeezed. Just like he did to Alexa when I first arrived. Pressure from both sides, crushing. My breath left me first, then my will started slipping. But then he faltered. His strength dipped. Just a little at first, then more. A few seconds later, he dropped me.

When he fell to his knees in front of me, I saw dark tendrils of venom that spread beneath his charred skin. That single sting from the wasp earlier… that was it. That was what brought him down. He reached for his chest, clutching it with both hands. His massive frame hissed as the shadowlight evaporated off him, peeling away until he looked human again. The Sword of the Rose hit the ground with a dull clang as it slipped free from his now smaller body. The Chinese man looked up at me. His eyes were wide. Scared.

His face twisted in pain as it hit him that he couldn't breathe. His heart was giving out.

"I… failed… her… my… Eve…" he whispered and collapsed. I looked around at the people gathering, the scene closing in. I pulled everything of mine within my aura into my hands, gathered it close, and with a flicker of will, slipped away into the Domain.