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DATE:27th of August, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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I stood there silent until someone knocked on my door. Yet I had no energy to rise. I was just so fed up with everything. My body hurt because I was out of aspirin. I suppose the numbness only helped to keep me there, staring at nothing in particular.
The person outside came without invitation. It was the English teacher. I should lock that damn door.
"Will… you're still crying?"
"At no point did I cry."
"Come here…" she opened her arms as if to hug me, but I couldn't rise even if I wanted to.
"Ran out of painkillers. I can't really move."
She put her hands between my underarms and got me on my feet and into an embrace. Her grip was firmer than I expected.
"Want me to buy you some pills?"
"I'd appreciate it. The strong aspirins from Matthew's."
She left me slightly on the bed, putting her hand through my hair with a smile before leaving. Why was she babying me? I don't get it. Even yesterday she let me go with that bad attempt at diverting the subject. For the others I wondered why they cared so much that I killed a man, but it was actually more suspicious that she didn't. And aren't there any cameras left behind by Zilliam? There's no way this woman didn't see me thrown outside in the dirt. Was this why she went easy? She felt pity? Or something worse—guilt?
And now that I mention it, how is it that the tsarist bastard wanted to rape me to hurt Alice? What line of thinking even is that? What the fuck is the history between them? Rivalry? A mere rivalry can't explain this. I know I didn't pay much attention to that meeting, but I surely would have observed if Alice had a special reaction to someone. If he was this unimportant to her... But what if he used his power even there? What if she didn't even perceive him as a threat worth acknowledging?
I saw no corpse, but I hope he died. His power is too troublesome. The world doesn't need people like that walking around freely.
I waited there for a quarter of an hour before she returned all sweaty. She bothered to run the whole way? That seems a bit much.
She raised me with one hand and gave me a glass of water and a pill with the other. Her breath was still ragged.
She patted me on the back as I took them as if to help it go down. What is up with that? Grown ass woman. Mad weird.
"Is that better?"
"Yeah, I guess…" She exhaled deeply, then took the seat from the desk and dragged it near me, the legs scraping against the floor. She settled in like she planned to stay a while.
"I'm pretty knowledgeable about grieving so I know you want someone there." As if. What kind of presumption even is that?
"I also lost someone close to me. My good friend…" Who even cares? This woman should read the room and get out. I'm not her therapy session.
"It wasn't like that between me and Sasha. It is Alice that I love."
"Right…. So what did you two fight about? I'm here for you. I am a good listener." As if she would get it. "Ah, only if you feel like talking about it. I won't force you…"
"Look, there isn't much to say. She takes me for granted and I am tired of that. That's about it."
"I see! That is certainly wrong. I'll talk to her and then-"
"You should mind your business." This response shocked her, but it was about time for her to hear the truth. Her eyes widened like I'd slapped her. "Look, I don't care for nor want any more drama. Just leave it like this."
"But that is-" I didn't let her continue.
"Either we figure it out or we won't. It's not that complicated." It's about time she realizes her own limits. We're not playing 'match' here.
"I see, I'm sorry to impose that…" She looked broken. From such a little spat? Seriously? Why are all of these bitches at the academy so weak hearted? So pathetic. She stood up slowly, like her legs had gone stiff.
I didn't apologize. I waited in silence until she left the room, watching her retreat with her shoulders hunched. I think I was grinning by the end.
I rose from the bed feeling refreshed. Well, mostly from the pills kicking in.
The first thing on my mind was to confirm that bastard's death. I went outside and glanced all around the crater but there wasn't even a speck of blood to lead me. No drag marks, no fabric, nothing.
He would have attacked me by now if he survived so I must be safe.
Whatever.
The inquisitors were eying me from a distance, but there wasn't much they could do. My newly acquired skills represented a big threat. So sacrificing a whole department to take out a presumed 'hero' wasn't worth it. The math didn't add up in their favor.
But what am I even talking about? These supposed moralists kept a bastard like Blazer around for years. What danger did they even prevent?
Protection? More like investigating the trash. They should change their name to 'the plumbers'.
I was getting tired of these boring overalls. What to do… pick the lock to the bathroom? Haaah.
I didn't have any tools, but I improvised from things I found in the teaching supply room. A few paperclips, some gum… the basics.
It took me almost half an hour to succeed because I had to remember how you even lock-picked. My fingers were sore by the end.
Inside was really a mess. The floor was both wet and full of dried stains of soap and my shirt became crusty from the dried blood. It would be a real pain to clean up. Why even bother? I'd just ruin it more trying.
I took it and the pants and threw both in the trash. Should I beg for a few Zols to buy new clothes? Could I find something in my budget? I have 30 left. Nah, no way. Not even secondhand would go that low.
I had just 'insulted' her, but the English teacher was the best option. Who else could I ask? The history teacher? After our 'fight'? Aku who looks homeless? That squid? Nahh.
I searched all around the campus for that woman, but she was nowhere to be seen. So next was to expand my search area.
Aku gave me a tip that she would frequent a bar in the neighborhood.
I didn't expect a bar out here. Rich assholes drink at home—private reserves, decanters, solitude. What's the point of a bar if not to flaunt their boredom?
I asked around. Got directions from locals who looked at me like I was lost—janitor uniform, busted face, wrong neighborhood. Not exactly blending in.
The bar wasn't listed anywhere public. Rich people don't advertise their vices. You had to know someone who knew someone.
I found the entrance through a parking garage. Private lot, keypad-locked. I stood there pretending to take a call until some asshole in an imported SUV rolled up. Gate opened. I walked in behind him like I belonged.
Nobody stopped me.
The garage smelled like fresh concrete and expensive leather. LEDs tracked my movement across the floor. I passed rows of cars I couldn't name—Normandian engineering, Albion curves, whatever rich bastards drove to feel important.
At the far end, past the elevators, I found a maintenance corridor. Gray steel door with a biometric lock. No signage. Just a worn brass plate at the base where a thousand shoes had kicked it open.
I pressed my thumb to the sensor. Red light. Obviously.
Then someone exited. I caught the door before it closed and slipped inside.
The English teacher was drinking alone at the bar. It was too early for anyone to be here other than the barman. Well, not even the barman was here. Smoke break? Or maybe she paid him to disappear for a while.
She was wearing jeans and a shirt blouse, and her body leaned over the counter as a pillow. Her hair had fallen across her face, hiding whatever expression she wore.
I took the seat next to hers, but didn't bother to order anything. The stool creaked under my weight. She didn't seem to realize my presence. Was she so drunk already? Quite sloppy.
I glide my hand across her arm and she starts to murmur something unintelligible. Was she asleep? Her glass was still half-full, amber liquid catching the dim bar light. Either she passed out mid-drink or she was pacing herself poorly.
She suddenly raises in surprise and I cover my face as a defense. Instinct more than anything. Her elbow had swung wide when she jerked upright.
"Will? What are you—" Her voice was thick with sleep, eyes unfocused.
"Look, about earlier…" I let my hands drop. "I was out of line. You were just trying to help and I snapped at you."
She blinked a few times, processing. Then her expression softened in that irritating way that meant she understood too much. "No, no. I get it. You were hurting and I pushed too hard. I should have given you space."
Great.
"I left my money at Alice's," I said, changing the subject. "And I need a few changes of clothes. The overalls are getting old."
She laughed—actually laughed—and reached for her wallet, pulling out a few hundred Zol bills without even counting them. Just handed them over like it was nothing.
"Keep it. Consider it an apology for hovering."
I took the money, but something about her laugh felt off. Too hollow. She was weirdly depressed, slumped back over the counter like the brief moment of energy had drained her completely.
"I don't want you to end up like me, my late darling and I…" she muttered into her glass.
I raised my eyebrows. "Plenty of women threw themselves at me. I do fine."
"That wasn't it." She didn't look at me. "You'd get it when you're older."
"I'm almost forty."
She turned her head then, squinting at me like I'd just claimed to be an alien. "I don't believe it. There's no way."
"Believe what you want."
She laughed again, but this time it had more life to it. "It doesn't make sense to be in the same generation. You look like you could be my student."
"Lucky genetics," I said flatly. But she knew that wasn't the whole truth. "Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it."
She hummed in response, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.
I say I'll go, but she pulls me back into my seat. Her grip is firm on my wrist.
"I overlooked what you did," she says, voice suddenly serious. The drunk slur is gone, like she'd sobered up in an instant. "But somewhere down the line you're going to have to choose between ego and death." She pauses, eyes searching mine. "And I don't think you'll like the answer."
"If you mean the Inquisitor I killed," I say flatly, "I'll always defend myself. I'm not ashamed of it."
I give her a hollow look—the kind that doesn't invite further conversation—and stand up.
She lets go this time.
I exit the bar through the same hidden door, past the expensive cars, through the gate that someone's leaving open. The hot air hits my face as I step onto the street.
______
The clothing store was still open. Same place as last time months ago. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Scuffed linoleum floors, faint smell of cardboard and cheap dye. Surprised a place like this survived in a district full of designer boutiques.
I grabbed a few t-shirts. Black, gray, navy. Nothing noticeable. Two pairs of jeans—cheap denim, functional. They'd last a few washes before falling apart, but that was fine. I wasn't trying to impress anyone.
I changed back in my room and found that the stab I received yesterday had healed. Well, that was unusually fast…
I'll figure out why later.
Now onto more pressing matters. How to get that pig of a woman outside.
Aku? He had beast powers and he also was indirectly controlled by that ghost so perhaps? I had to give him back the overalls anyway.
________
I found him in his office. He was dressed in a dirty shirt with a pristine tie. What a strange combination. I treated him like a Gardner, but this man was still the Teacher of foreign arts and I remember the fiscal administrator? Or was that Pamela?
"Aku."
He turned, surprised. His expression shifted quickly to wariness.
"Carter. What do you want?"
I held out the folded overalls. "Returning these. Thanks for the loan."
He took them, nodding slowly. Then his eyes narrowed.
"That all?"
"No." I leaned against the doorframe. "I need your help with something. It's about Pamela."
His entire body went rigid. The wariness turned to something sharper—suspicion mixed with something else. Hope, maybe.
"What about her?"
"I've been in contact with her spirit. She's trapped in the garden. Has been for twenty years."
"I know that," he said quietly. I think I did mention it in the past. His hands tightened on the overalls.
"Right. Well, she wants back in her body. I can make that happen, but I need help moving it."
His eyes searched mine, looking for the trap, the angle, the lie.
"Why would you do that? What's in it for you?"
I shrugged. "Does it matter? You want her back, don't you?"
He stared at me for a long moment. Then something shifted in his expression—walls coming down, just a little.
"How?"
"Full moon. Tonight. We bring her body into the garden when the moon is fully visible. She handles the rest."
"Her body is…" He trailed off, uncomfortable.
"Heavy. Yeah, I noticed." I kept my tone flat, factual. "That's where you come in. Your semi-demonic transformation should be able to handle the weight."
His eyes lightened—actually brightened with something that looked dangerously close to joy.
"You're serious. You can actually bring her back."
"That's the plan."
He exhaled slowly, tension draining from his shoulders.
"Alright. I'll help."
"Good. In five hours or so, meet me at my room… well Alice's."
He nodded, clutching the overalls like a lifeline.
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.
"Carter."
I glanced back.
"Thank you."
Whatever.
I didn't respond. Just walked away.
So what to do in the meantime?
Focus on that aspirin power? Yeah, getting to use it at will would be a real help. Can't really depend on something that happens at random.
I went outside and sat on the grass and just started breathing in and out. The secret was anger. It worked by releasing something from inside—rage channeled into something physical, tangible.
Hmmmm. Who to hate?
I don't really feel anyone in particular. Not right now, anyway.
I already closed things with my father. That door's shut, locked, buried.
So my wife? Naah, she wasn't that important. A footnote in someone else's life story. Not even worth the effort of hating.
Should I hate the thing that revived me? But how could I when I don't even know what did? Can't direct anger at a void.
I sat on the ground thinking, picking at the grass. The blades came loose easily, dirt clinging to the roots.
Wait.
How could I forget? Saturn. He stood by as I got beat up my whole childhood. If gods know everything then he must have seen what crimes my mother did by his altar and still did nothing. What an asshole.
Asshole? No, I can do better than that.
What a fraud. What kind of god lets that blasphemy occur? He's so trash. A cosmic observer with front-row seats to suffering, content to watch the show. What's divine about apathy?
Hmmm… No, I do hate him, but I just can't do that at the level required. The anger's there, sure, but it's cold. Distant. Theoretical. Not the kind of burning rage that breaks through skin.
So who? My mother?
No, I just can't give her the attention. Who knows if her 'ghost' is the next to appear inside my nightmares? I've already got enough dead people crowding my head. Don't need to invite more.
I lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky. Clouds drifted past, shapeless and indifferent.
Think. Who actually makes my blood boil? Who earned it?
The Tsarist bastard came to mind—but he's probably dead. Hard to stay angry at a corpse. And if he's not dead, then that's a problem for later.
The Inquisitors? Maybe. But that's more irritation than hatred. They're flies buzzing around, annoying but ultimately irrelevant.
Alice?
I stopped. Sat up.
Alice.
The way she betrayed me, to that bitch John no less. It was like she cheated on my dignity! To go with him out of anyone? When I was in that weak state? How could she?
There it was. The spark.
I focused on it. Fanned it. Let it grow.
She called me selfish. Me. After everything. After I put myself between her and danger over and over. After I swallowed my pride, my anger, my self, just to keep her safe.
And what did I get? Accusations. Judgment. The implication that I wasn't good enough. That I wasn't 'hero' enough for her…
The heat started in my chest. A familiar burn, spreading outward.
My skin tingled.
I looked down at my hands. They were starting to shimmer—just slightly, like heat waves rising from pavement.
There you are.
I held onto it. Let the anger settle into something controlled, focused. Not an explosion, but a slow burn.
The shimmering stopped. My hands looked normal again.
But I could feel it now. The power, just beneath the surface. Waiting.
Good enough.
I stood up, brushing grass off my jeans. Progress. Small, but real.
Now I just needed to figure out how to use it without thinking about Alice.
I spent the next few hours thinking on the grass. Did I really hate Alice? Wow. Out of everyone.
It was strange to get used to. Your supposed lover?
I just… expected more? I'm not sure how to say it. Her betrayal stung more than I wanted to admit, and she didn't even hurt me directly!
This aspirin really is something. To drag these emotions out of me like pulling teeth? To make me feel things I'd buried so deep I forgot they existed?
I wanted to kill that girl. To mangle her in front of her father. Too bad he's already dead.
Yeah. He is, but his wife isn't.
The thought landed with startling clarity, like a door opening in a dark room.
I should find her mother and do something about it. That woman also infuriated me. What did she call me? A doll? A puppet? Perhaps she knows my supposed master if she runs her mouth so much. Maybe I could squeeze the information out of her. See how chatty she is with broken fingers.
Didn't Alice appreciate Carter's photography? The memory surfaced—her going through his camera's portfolio, smiling at each frame like they were treasures.
I'll make an album of what I do to her mother and send it to the Balßh tower. That would do wonders! Yeah! Frame by frame. Start with the hands, work my way up. Document every moment, every fracture, every scream. Professional quality. She'd appreciate the composition, surely.
The thoughts came faster now, spiraling.
Not hunger and neither thirst could get me out of that state. My stomach didn't growl. The usual distractions of flesh just... vanished.
I was strangely focused. Crystalline. Everything that normally cluttered my mind—exhaustion, hunger, doubt—burned away, leaving only purpose.
The grass beneath me felt distant, like I was floating an inch above it. My breathing had evened out completely. Mechanical. Controlled.
Is this what the aspirin does? What it really does beyond those lowly doses humans take?
Unlocks the hate I'd been storing? Gives it shape and direction?
Or was I always like this, just too cowardly to admit it?
I stared at the sky until the light started changing. Hours must have passed. The sun was lower now, bleeding orange across the horizon.
I felt good. Clearer than I had in weeks.
And that scared me more than anything. I felt human.
I rushed back to my room and found Aku already waiting near the stairs, pacing.
"We should convince her to go willingly," he said when I approached. "If we explain—"
"That doesn't make sense by law of necromancy." I cut him off. "A hollow body doesn't want to naturally meet the soul, especially when it created a pseudo soul to fill the void. The body will resist. It always does." I was just throwing whatever stuck, but I didn't really feel like begging that ragdoll to follow me. She didn't seem like a listener.
His face fell. "So we force her?" Why didn't he ask about what I said? Is that trust? As if…
"We force her."
We both went to Pamela's room—well, the math teacher's room now—on the third floor. The door was locked.
Aku grabbed the handle and twisted. Metal shrieked, the mechanism gave, and he pushed inside.
The math teacher was sitting on her bed, looking at her phone. She rose impaciently, her bloated face already twisting into disgust.
"What the fuck are you two—"
Aku struck her head to try to knock her out. His fist connected solidly—a good hit, clean technique.
She tanked it.
Didn't even stumble. Just blinked once, then started screaming at full force.
"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"
"Drag her outside," I said flatly.
Aku hesitated for half a second, then grabbed her by both arms and hauled her toward the door. She kicked and thrashed, but his demonic strength won out. He pulled her into the hallway.
We waited.
No one came.
The English teacher must have been out drinking. The biology teacher... I don't know about her. Didn't matter.
Aku dragged her down the hallway toward the stairs, her heels scraping against the floor. She was still screaming, but the sound was muffled now—hoarse, strained.
When we went a floor lower, we were met with three students blocking the stairwell.
A boy with animal teeth—sharp canines protruding visibly over his lips. A girl in black pajamas, arms crossed, expression hard. Another boy, this one built like a truck, muscles stacked on muscles. New 12th graders, probably. Eager to prove themselves.
"Keep going," I told Aku.
He nodded and continued dragging the math teacher past them, grunting with effort.
The one with teeth stepped forward, placing himself between me and Aku.
"Hey. What the hell is going on here? I'm student representative Marcus Veil, and I'm asking you to—"
"We're administering treatment," I said smoothly. "The math teacher is acting like a baby. Throwing a tantrum. You know how it is."
His eyes narrowed. "Treatment? She's screaming. How can you talk like that?"
I raised a finger to my lips. "Shhh. Shut up and go back to bed. Don't involve yourself in the matters of heroes."
The girl in black pajamas took a step forward. "I won't stand for this."
Of course not.
I didn't wait.
I kicked Marcus in the groin as hard as I could. My foot connected with satisfying precision. He folded instantly, dropping to his knees with a choked gasp.
The muscular one lunged.
I pivoted and struck his trachea with my knuckles—a sharp, focused jab. His eyes bulged. He staggered backward, clutching his throat, unable to breathe properly.
The girl's eyes went wide. Then they started glowing—faint purple light bleeding into the whites.
Psychic.
I felt the pressure immediately. Something invisible pressed against my temples, trying to worm inside. My vision blurred at the edges.
I moved before she could lock it in.
Two steps closed the distance. My left hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, twisting it inward and down. She gasped, the glow flickering. My right fist came up and caught her jaw—not a knockout punch, just enough to break her concentration.
The psychic pressure released.
She tried to pull back, but I held her wrist and drove my knee into her stomach. Air left her lungs. She doubled over.
I let go of her wrist and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. Her neck exposed.
My elbow came down hard on her nose. Cartilage crunched. Blood sprayed across the black fabric of her pajamas.
She dropped, clutching her face, whimpering.
I left her bloody and gasping on the floor.
Marcus was still curled up, groaning. The muscular one had collapsed against the wall, wheezing, his face turning purple.
I turned back toward the stairs and followed Aku's trail.
Good enough. I didn't need the teacher's pets ruining everything.
I quickened my pace and caught up to Aku, who had a bloody nose. He must have fallen? Whatever.
The math teacher started slurring again about how we were dead meat or whatever. Threats from a woman being dragged like luggage. Pathetic.
"You're the one who will die," I said flatly.
We left the building and made it maybe thirty meters across the grass before I heard a zap behind me.
Lightning struck the ground, and Yonezu materialized from the arc—traveling as pure electricity. Didn't know he had it in him. Must have finally grown a spine.
He was furious. Face red, fists clenched. Did he see the students I fought?
"Get to the garden," I told Aku without turning around.
He hesitated for a second, then continued dragging the math teacher toward the trees. Her protests faded into the distance.
Why were there so many obstacles?
"Carter!" Yonezu's voice was shaking with rage. "You're trying to kill her, aren't you?!"
"Mind your own business."
"I can't let you—"
"Your power already proved useless once against me," I said, cutting him off. "Want to test it again?"
His jaw tightened. Lightning crackled along his arms, dancing between his fingers.
Truthfully speaking, I was at a disadvantage. Open field. No metal on me to throw. Not that the trick from yesterday would even work a second time—he'd be expecting it.
But I had something else.
The aspirin was still in my system. Still burning. I could feel it beneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed.
One shot.
"Last chance," Yonezu said. "Stand down."
"No."
He moved.
Lightning erupted from both hands simultaneously—twin bolts converging on my position. Fast. Bright enough to leave afterimages.
I didn't dodge.
I should have approached to make the impact bigger, but I couldn't hold it in.
I opened my mouth and screamed.
Not sound—something deeper. The rage I'd been cultivating all afternoon, the hate I'd focused and sharpened, released all at once. The aspirin's power channeled through my vocal cords, through my throat, through every fiber of my being.
A shockwave exploded outward. Even bigger than the other ones. Perhaps 30 meters in diameter.
Invisible. Devastating.
The lightning dissipated instantly, scattered like smoke. The grass beneath me flattened in a perfect circle, radiating outward in waves. No, it even dug into the ground, forming a crater. The air itself seemed to ripple, distorting everything.
Yonezu was caught mid-stride. At the edge of the circumference.
The shockwave hit him like a freight train. His body lifted off the ground and flew backward—fifteen meters, maybe twenty—before slamming into the side of the dorm building. I sent him back from where he came! Brick cracked. His body crumpled.
He didn't get up. I don't think I killed him… I at least hope not. An inquisitor is one thing, but a teacher would be problematic.
I stood there, breathing hard. My throat felt raw, like I'd been screaming for hours. My ears were ringing. Blood trickled from my nose—warm, metallic.
Burned through completely. I could feel the emptiness where it had been.
Worth it.
I wiped the blood from my nose with my sleeve and turned toward the garden.
Aku was already disappearing into the trees, the math teacher's bulk slowing him down but not stopping him.
I followed, leaving Yonezu unconscious against the wall.
I caught up as my muscles felt like burning from the effort from earlier. A shockwave twice as large? Wow. And I thought 15m range was big. Apparently the aspirin had more in reserve than I'd given it credit for.
Anyway, we almost reached it.
I could see the dots forming. I wasn't nearly as drugged and yet I could still see them—those luminous points scattered through the air like fireflies. Was this from the moon? Its light was full now, washing everything in silver.
The math teacher started screaming even harder. Her voice started to sound less human. More guttural. Animal.
As we approached the garden, her body started getting even larger. More fat accumulated in real-time, flesh expanding like dough rising. Aku had a hard time holding her. His demonic strength was straining, muscles bulging under his shirt.
I moved to support her weight, grabbing her other arm. I couldn't add much in comparison. She was a mountain of flesh now, still growing.
I could see the ghost in the distance, watching us. Pamela stood perfectly still, her white dress glowing in the moonlight. Her expression was unreadable.
We really struggled in the last 15 meters. The math teacher basically doubled in weight with each step. My arms felt like they were being pulled from their sockets. Aku was grunting with effort, his feet digging trenches into the grass.
The thing that used to be the math teacher was making sounds that no human throat should produce. Deep, resonant growls mixed with wet, gurgling shrieks.
When we got close enough, we let go of that pig and she fell to the ground. The impact shook the earth. Her body hit with a wet, heavy thud.
By this point her voice sounded like a beast. Completely inhuman. What the hell did William put in Pamela's body? What kind of pseudo-soul had taken root?
Aku was mesmerized. His eyes were locked on something ahead—on Pamela. Could he also see her?
She called out to him. Her voice was soft, barely audible over the beast's roaring.
"Ayaan..."
He responded, his voice cracking. "Pamela. You're really here."
Then she turned to me. Her eyes met mine.
"Thank you," she said simply.
Then everything lit up.
White light exploded from the ground where the math teacher's body lay—brilliant, blinding, all-consuming. I threw my arm up to shield my eyes, but it didn't help. The light pierced through flesh, through bone, through everything.
I was completely blinded.
The beast stopped screaming.
Silence.
I think I collapsed. Where was I?