Chương 61: Act 2, Chapter 15: The rhythm that breaks

Day in the story: 10th December (Wednesday) At the beginning, there was chaos. I landed right in the middle of it, six gang members surrounding Malik. Or rather, Echo. That's who he was now. One of them lunged at me, arcing a long, serrated knife toward my ribs. Without thinking, I drew three cards from my holder. They hardened into steel mid-air, not because I commanded them, but because my soul needed it. Dam's training had paid off.

The thug froze for a heartbeat, long enough for me to drive my boot into his gut. With the force of a mechanized rabbit, I launched him backward like a missile. He slammed into a metal shelf behind him, crashing through it with a deafening screech. The entire structure collapsed in a rain of crates and rusted bolts. But I was already moving and flung the three cards outward, each one infused with my will, to become my eyes. They flew like throwing stars, embedding themselves in distant vantage points.

Sight flooded in from multiple angles at once. Another guy wanted to blindside me with a punch. His knuckles cracked against my skin, but I didn't flinch. He groaned, surprised at how solid I was. He raised a pistol, aiming at my face. I ducked and swiped with another card, but I wasn't fast enough, because Malik's punch landed first and a sonic burst followed. The guy was hurled away tumbling over the floor and broken debris.

Echo's attack had hit hard and I saw it from three angles at once—me and him, back to back, caught in a storm of bodies and bullets. The shelf I'd broken had toppled onto another attacker, trapping him under twisted steel. All around us, a few gang members hung back, waiting for a clear shot. They kept circling, aiming, twitching, afraid of hitting their own, but ready to fire indiscriminately the moment an opening presented itself. Off to the side, maybe twenty feet away, Nick was in trouble.

He was facing off against the Rhythm and it wasn't going well. Nick was bloodied, stumbling—barely blocking the attacks anymore. Thin sheets of salted crystal, kept forming and shattering with every pulse of bass-driven power, trying to proect him in a layer of armor—he'd learnt to use that trick from his father. Every beat Rhythm dropped was a hammer, pounding Nick down. I could feel that force, the rhythm, the distortion in the air. Like the whole world was moving to a song only he controlled.

Nick was running out of time and Rhythm was performing as much as he was fighting. The beats shaped the battlefield. Each thud of bass left behind shimmering afterimages of him, phantoms of pure shadowlight, frozen in poses like echoes of violence yet to come. They didn't move yet, but I knew, he'd unleash them all at once, sooner or later. And when he did, it would be overwhelming.

Nick's body was a hot mess of blood and fractured crystal, but he healed like a creature born from pure regenerative will, and he was still standing. Torn flesh knit itself together in real time, muscle crawling back under skin, just to be shattered again by another sonic hammer, fists and kicks laced with the Rhythm's pulsing soundtrack. Another thug swung at me. I blocked it bare-armed, the hit rattling through bone. Before he could recoil, I slashed him across the stomach with a card already gripped in my hand.

Blood sprayed, hot and fast. He dropped, grabbing at loose intestines in instinctive horror. I kicked him away. Then, without hesitation, I hurled the blood-slicked card toward a gang member creeping up behind Echo. It sang through the air and buried itself in his face. He dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. Not that it mattered, because Malik had already reacted.

His arms were raised, leaving behind glowing constructs of golden-blue shadowlight that formed mid-air as shields, meeting the would-be attacker with an ethereal wall. Malik moved like someone born into this kind of frantic pace. His movements were fluid, his body reacting to the smallest adjustments he made. But what truly set him apart was that he could find another use for each of his perfect movements.

Echoes of his previous punches and kicks surged out from him, like arcane aftershocks, blazing silhouettes retracing his own motion, but empowered now by his soul force. These weren't just physical strikes. They carried the stored wrath of his core, not just his strength. Each echo burst with light and impact, sending enemies flying, bones cracking, blood splashing across the dusty floor in sprays of red and gold. It was beautiful and terrifying—a dance of light and violence, with Echo as its conductor.

But we couldn't continue like this. It was a pointless waste. I touched him and tried to pull him into my Domain. My claim, however, was met with firm resistance. He was anchored here by the sheer force of his will and the depth of his emotional investment." Don't resist, damn it!" I screamed, my voice nearly swallowed by the chaos around us. At the same instant, a wave of invisible force smashed into Nick. He flew back, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch.

The soundtrack shifted to a new track, System of a Down, maybe Snowblind and with it, the Rhythm changed too. The tempo spiked and so did he. His body moved in time with the frantic beats, ignoring the natural physics of the world, reality bent around the rhythm. He was on Nick in a heartbeat. Blow after blow rained down, each one faster, harder and messier. Blood painted the concrete. Nick still regenerating, was becoming more pulp than person and yet still trying to rise.

"I gotta stay here! I gotta find Bonnie!" Malik shouted up at me, face half-shattered but voice burning with that same stubborn resolve.

"You stupid boy!" I snapped back, ducking under a swing and drawing Ella as she snapped into a form of a baton of steel, responding to my instinct before I could even think it.

"I was sending you to her!" I blocked another strike, twisted my hips and cracked the baton into my attacker's skull. He crumpled instantly, body limp before he hit the ground. I turned, reaching out to grab Malik to pull him out while I still could, but he was already gone. He slipped away from my hand chasing after another one of the gangers, disappearing into the swirl of chaos and concrete in his fury. I didn't have time for this.

I lunged toward one of the gangers on the fringe of the fight, grabbed him by the face, and squeezed. My reinforced fingers crushed through bone like wet plaster. His skull collapsed in my grip, and I let his body drop without a second thought. There was artistry in the way one conducted a killing, and violence was the brush with which it was painted. Then I launched myself at the Rhythm.

He was still synced to the frenzied guitar riffs, hands slashing in time with every distorted note, carving Nick open piece by piece. Nick was barely holding on, a ragged breath away from death, regeneration faltering under the relentless assault. I used the chaos and swung Ella like a bat, cracking her into the Rhythm's head with every ounce of force my body could muster. The hit connected, sending the Rhythm flying sideways, crashing into a support beam with a satisfying crack.

I dropped to Nick and pressed my hand to his chest. His eyes flickered open, barely conscious, but he didn't fight it. I pulled him into my Domain. I exhaled shakily and looked through all of my special eyes, but Malik wasn't in view. I cursed under my breath and rose, scanning the room with my own eyes. Far at the back of the warehouse, standing over a ganger, is where I found him. Malik's fists were hammers of gold and blue, each strike echoed by ghostly afterimages of light and fury.

He pummeled the man again and again, each blow more savage than the last, until there was nothing left but red and ruin. Malik didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He was lost to the bloodlust now. A wave of heavy and pulsing techno, slammed into my body like the rotors painted on the Finest ceiling back in the day. It crushed me backward, air locked in my lungs. I couldn't move, pinned by the invisible pressure. Then the shots came. One after another. The gangers on the sidelines had opened fire and the Rhythm laughed.

He was rushing toward me now, each step a thunderclap synced to the beat. A predator in perfect harmony with his own storm. I reached for the Lifeline, the talisman tucked between my breasts and teleported into my Domain. For a sharp breath, I stood still, running my palms over my body, searching for the damage I hoped not to find. Nick lay unconscious but breathing. Malik's grandmother was beside him, still whole. Both were alive.

I turned, sprinted to the sketch still fresh with urgency, touched the paper and vanished again, light from my crystal core giving me a jolt of energy as I was leaving. I reappeared atop the wrecked shelf, chaos immediately beneath me. Malik, was being torn apart by sound-made-blade. His torso was shredded, blood running in rivulets over ripped fabric and raw skin. His shirt was nothing more than strips, his movements slower and more desperate.

"Why are you doing this!?" he shouted at the other man, but Rhythm did not respond with anything except a quick sweep of his head over the people fighting beside him. He swallowed and continued the assault. I ran, blocking bullets with Ella's wide-open body, using her like a shield. I closed her with a snap and slid her back into the holster at my thigh as I vaulted down, aiming to reach Malik. A burst of old-school hip-hop flung me aside, my body skipping across the concrete floor, when the track changed.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Then came the next beat and it hurt. His magic hurt. Not just physically, it shook something in me. Vibrated my bones, cracked my focus. I could feel it deep in my soul, trying to unmake me. He was strong. And still smiling. And with each display of his magic he hindered me—didn't give me room to breathe. Malik was down now, unmoving and the gangsters were closing in.

If they reached him, if they got a single shot off at that range he would be gone. I t eleported to the Domain again. In for a second. And out as soon as possible. Back in the warehouse I found him before he noticed my reapperence. The Rhythm stood stunned, just for a heartbeat, but that was enough. I drew Noxy, braced and pulled the trigger. The force that tore out of the barrel was vengeance incarnate.

The thunder of the gun roared through the air and collided with something unseen, a soundwave shield, flexing like some arcane membrane and the collision was cataclysmic. A shockwave erupted across the warehouse like the wrath of a god. Everyone still on their feet was flung backward as if yanked by invisible strings. Mundane people crumpled like marionettes with cut cords. The music stopped. Just for a few seconds. Rhythm, bloodied but still alive, rose slowly.

The grin was gone, but instead his soundtrack returned. Not a song, not even a melody, just noise this time. Shifting, breaking and reforming, creating a chaotic mesh of genres and rhythms, as if he couldn't decide what to become next. I rushed toward Malik, sprawled and bleeding on the warehouse floor. My fingers brushed his skin and then a wave of force slammed into me like a wall of pure air. He vanished, but I didn't. Instead I was thrown away by an invisible force. Why didn't I go with him? I'd wished for it.

Willed it. [The discord in his power caused the connection to falter. Try again.] Another invisible punch hit me in the chest before I could rise, tossing me further back. My arm and side screamed with pain, Noxy's recoil had torn through my bones like fire. I tried to teleport again. My soul was so strained, I felt like the next use of Authority would break me. I tore the power from every card still within my aura, ripped it out of Noxy too, rejuvenating myself with as much energy as I could and tried again.

Then a soundless bullet of air, struck my temple and the world snapped sideways. I hit the ground and Rhythm was already above me. Both his hands were clasped together, raised high like a hammer, the music building toward a beat I didn't want to feel. I shut my eyes. Didn't think. Didn't plead. Just braced. And then afte a second of not being crushed, I opened them to soft light an calming presence of my Domain's soul core.

"Wh–what happened, Anansi?" [Your talisman responded to your need.]"It worked… on its own?" [You could call it that.] Good. I closed my eyes again.

I was the first to wake up, my will renewed by the steady hum of my soul core. I rushed to my bedroom trophy case, where that stupid necklace was on display and where I'd also stashed the rest of the soup from Lebens'. I drank a deep, burning sip to heal the damage Noxy had done, then poured the solid bits into Nick's mouth while cradling his broken body. He coughed, sputtered a little, but then the healing began. His own power stirred, shimmering with its shadowlight glow.

I felt it clearly, here in my Domain, it didn't force its way back. It asked, brushing against my Authority. I could have blocked it if I'd wanted to. My claim was much stronger in here, but of course, I didn't. I allowed it and watched as Nick's body started knitting itself together. He groaned ashis eyes fluttered open. I let go of him and let his head thud back down. He whined. Good. He deserved it.

"Lex…? Did you kill that guy?" he asked, his voice still hoarse, as I repeated the healing ritual on Malik.

"Are you kidding me?" I scoffed, not looking at him.

"I ran." He sat up, inspecting himself.

"Yeah… he overwhelmed me pretty easily too. It's good you were there after all." Then he spotted the grandmother.

"You got her out? You saved her? Why didn't you call me?"

"My phone got smashed," I said flatly, just as Malik snapped awake. He jumped to his feet in a blur, his fists raised, eyes wild—he was ready to fight.

"Yo… where I'm at?" Malik asked groggily, then his eyes locked onto his grandma unconscious on the floor. He moved to rush toward her, but I grabbed his arm, stopping him cold.

"I need to heal her first," I said flatly. He turned to me, eyes wide with a silent thank you forming on his lips. I sighed and punched him, hard, straight in the face. He dropped to his ass and sat there stuneed for a few seconds, while rubbing his jaw and blinking up at me.

"This is all on you, Malik," I snapped.

"She's only alive because of a miracle you asked for and apparently Nick thinks fate played a part too." He stayed quiet. Just sat there, holding his face and watching me.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad she's alive. But this was fucking stupid. You made the idiotic decision to turn your whole thing into a public show. You could have done whatever you had to do quietly. But no, you wanted it loud. Big, heroic and blood messy." I stepped toward him.

"You wanna know how I know? People at my damn university were talking about you. You. The flashy vigilante. You were trending. Smiling like that makes you feel powerful?" He smirked, just a little, until I snapped.

"Stop smiling, you moron! This isn't a movie! It's not a comic book! This is life. Just because some miracle handed you magic doesn't mean the people around you can't get hurt. Or killed." My voice cracked then, not from weakness, but from truth. Truth that stood up and pointed it's finger at me as well.

"You want to be a hero? Fine. Then grow the hell up. Make damn sure your people don't become collateral damage." He looked down.

"We would've all died in that warehouse," I finished.

"That guy, the Rhythm? He's stronger than the three of us combined. And we barely got away."

"My fault…" he muttered, eyes fixed on the dark floor beneath us.

"How did they even figure out it was you?"

"I dunno…" he said, but the hesitation in his voice betrayed him.

"Yeah… You know you can't go back there, right? You need a new place, your grandmother too." He didn't respond at first. Just sat there, jaw tight, fists clenched.

"Yo, you gon' heal her already or what?" I held out the rest of the soup in the jar.

"Do it yourself. Give her the rest of this." Nick stepped forward, still a little unsteady but standing.

"I'll ask Mom for a refill, Alexa," he said quietly. Malik took the jar with both hands, careful now. Nick moved to support his grandmother, lifting her gently into his lap while Malik poured the soup slowly, steadily down her throat.

"I'll help you find a place," Nick added after a moment.

"I was planning to buy an apartment anyway. I'll lease it to you, just until you're back on your feet." He glanced at me.

"Alexa's right. You need to disappear for a while. Stay off the radar. Focus on her." Then he turned back to Malik.

"You'll have to pay rent though. So get a job." That surprised me. Nick, always looking for a cross to carry, but at least he was giving Malik a path forward, not just a lifeline. Malik nodded, his jaw set, but his eyes softer now. He didn't say anything.

"Alexa, can you send them both to our training hall?" I looked at Malik. His face twitched with the beginnings of rebellion, but it shattered the moment it met my lack of expression: cold and unreadable behind the mask. His body gave no further protest as I touched his shoulder while he held his barely waking grandmother. My other hand reached for the Travel Grimoire. With just a thought, I sent them both on a new path, one I hoped would be paved with better choices than the ones behind them. I sighed.

I'd need to find one of those for myself, too.

"You wanted to talk in private, I assume?" I asked, turning to Nick. He looked whole, but not the same—his puffy face in an expression so foreign to him I could swear it belonged to another man entirely—he wasn't smiling, not at all. Usually there would be at least a hint of that, a corner of a mouth raised, like a sun just pushing through the horizon and now, today this very sun decided to sleep through the day. His green eyes were piercing, when he directed them at me.

"I did," he said.

"I feel like this is a mess of my own making. I took him in. I trained him…"

"No," I cut in.

"He made this mess for himself, Nickolas. I wasn't really angry at you, I was angry at myself. I realized I'm doing the same thing… for myself. For my friends."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you I ended things with Penrose. I thought I could do it cleanly, on good terms, but of course, it couldn't be that simple. He wants something from me, something I'm not willing to give."

"And you thought I'd side with him? That my father would?"

"I have a hard time trusting people, Nick. Forming connections that last. Deep down, I always expect betrayal to come. Sooner or later."

"And yet you trusted a man like Penrose?"

"I don't know," I admitted, as I took my mask off.

"Maybe. But it was more that I trusted the way he worked, that as long as I was useful, he'd take care of me. I believed in that more than I believed in him. And I wasn't wrong. Penrose is a man of values."

"I understand" he said softly.

"And I hope that one day, you'll find yourself less lonely… less caged inside your small world." His words moved me. He had a poetic way of seeing life, of speaking it into being. I was drawn to that. I liked listening to what he had to say. And that was a dangerous feeling.

"I made something for you," I said, trying to pull myself back to the present.

"A gift for your advancement. I had hoped to give it under more civil circumstances… but I doubt those will come anytime soon." I walked toward my desk, where the painting waited. I picked it up and handed it to him. He held it for a moment, letting his eyes drink it in, then smiled.

"I'll cherish it, Alexa." He looked up.

"And I want to make a promise to you. One that will probably sound empty… but it needs to be made anyway."

"Don't make promises, Nick," I whispered.

"It only hurts more when they're broken." He stepped closer, placed his large, warm hand on my shoulder. And then, his smile. That rare, comforting smile that felt like sunlight after a long storm. In that moment, there was only that smile and the words that followed:"I promise that I'll always stay by your side."

"You can't promise me that," I said, voice shaking.

"What if I decided to kill your father? Would you still stay?"

"Yes," he answered, without hesitation.

"And I would hold you back. So you wouldn't make that mistake." That's when I broke. I shouldn't have, but I did. I wept. I cried like I hadn't since my world was still small and the death of two people shattered it forever. Nick pulled me into his arms, gently pressed my head against his chest and held me tightly. He let me cry. And in that silence, the world seemed to slow, stretching into a quiet eternity, wrapped in the light of my own soul.

My life today had been overtaken by overwhelming rhythm, in more than one sense of the word. But I had to reign it in, had to seize control and chart a course for myself. And to do that, something had to break. A breaking I now realized I would never have done, if not for the dragon I had awakened. I found myself thinking about him sometimes, where he might go, what he might do, how he might carry himself in the world. But there was no looking back now.

In front of me stretched a sea of sorrow and I would have to sail through it alone. I wouldn't risk drowning him in the wake of the leviathan that followed behind me. The gift I painted for him—for us —remained inside my Domain. It would be a reminder for me now, not for him. Instead, I stood before him with a different gift: a gift of life. Something he wouldn't understand. A gift of breaths he would still be able to take. So different from the shallow ones he was making now.

"What do you mean?" Jason's voice trembled.

"I thought… it was good, you know? What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, Jason." I breathed out.

"I gave it time. I planted seeds with you. But nothing grew from them." I knew it was a lie the moment I said it, as the tightness in my chest clenched like a fist.

"It's time for me to move on. And for you to do the same."

"I… I don't have anything," he said, voice low.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing to remember the good things. Because, Alexa… I love you. And this, this will break me." But in his voice, there was also something rising. A silent resolve.

"It wasn't bad for me," he added.

"Most of the time we had together, it was good."

"I'm sorry, Jason. I don't have a break-up gift to give you." I hesitated.

"But I hope, somehow, this mess I brought upon you teaches you something. Helps you find someone who will love you back."

"Me too," he said quietly.

"Go now. I don't want to see you right now." Something small inside me cracked at those words. The breaking, it seemed, wasn't mine alone to make.