Liu Lang Zhe
Zhe didn't imagine that he'd ever have to unravel the fabric of someone's mind. Life takes you to strange places. Zhe considered himself a shepherd of the weak. There was nothing wrong with weakness. It was they who would inherit the earth after all.
Those who sought the power left a path of destruction behind them. To make of yourself a sun was to burn the world.
Long ago, when Zhe was young, he craved what all young men want. Money, respect, power, friendship and love. With each he gathered, the next seemed to move further out of reach. He was a man peddling furiously towards the horizon chasing the sun that would set the world ablaze.
For years, this is how he structured his life. Chasing money. Spending money. Getting Respect. Wielding power. It was here that his machinations fell apart. No amount of power, money, or respect earned him friendship–let alone love. While it earned him hollow praise and cheshire grins these were poor facsimiles of the real thing.
Night after night, Zhe returned to his luxurious home, full of decadence but empty of substance. The women who came here often didn't return. The work friends he tried to become close with filled the space only with awkward silences.
So Zhe opted for solitude.
It wasn't until he reversed his priorities that the tattered hole in him began to fill. Zhe left his job, money and possessions behind and found a new life below ground. It was only when he had nothing that he gained everything.
But now the world he built was in danger. The tower of love toppled by the same men who walked the path he left. Now, for the first time in a long time, he had to steel himself. His weapon was his mind, and he would sharpen it to a blade.
That is how he came to sit across from a man who looked like he'd have an easier time walking through a wall than opening a door. Though he dwarfed Zhe in size, he was woefully unprepared for this challenge. He came in with a child he had no resemblance to. How they came to be partners was a mystery, but not one Zhe had time to explore.
This room had called out to Zhe–an imperceptible siren's call that tugged at his very essence. He found the instructions hand written in swooping letters upon a piece of parchment. Elegant script for a dark deed, no doubt left by this competition's curators. In front of him was the prize he sought, a dull blue rock that was the subject of 400 people's interest. He attempted to swipe the catalyst upon entry, but his hand passed through easily.
The text claimed only two things could give the rock substancel. The intention to give it to another. Or the blood of a dead man.
Everything was laid out on an ornate silver platter. The catalyst was on one side and a gleaming dagger on the other. It gleamed in the room's soft light, its edge hungry and intentions clear.
Upon sitting down, Zhe found his awareness expanded in a bubble, filling the space around the table, filtering in the spaces between, permeating every crevice.
He could hear distant echoes, a low radio hum from another room. Hundreds of voices.
How did I get myself into this?
What is he doing here?
It's kill or be killed.
Why should I be the one to die?
What the fuck is going on?
Dozens of questions from a dozen minds–all focused on the same thing–Survival. Zhe wanted more than that. He wanted survival of the collective. It was only through partnership that people could face the trials of life.
The irony wasn't lost on him. He would have to fight his way through hundreds of potential partners to achieve his goals. They could be friends in another life, but here they were obstacles. To think your own goals better than another's was selfish.
Zhe shrugged inwardly.
He must be a selfish man.
That was the last thought Zhe had before he invaded the blonde man's mind. Their minds linked, two brains filling one space, and as some long dead sheriff once said, this town ain't big enough for the two of us.
Gunther was his name. A Germanic power-lifter who sought to inspire others. He grew up in a world without heroes and sought to become one himself. Very noble. The only problem was that beneath the aspirations was cowardice. A child hiding beneath a blanket of muscle. He could conquer any battle as long as his opponent was inanimate iron. He had no talent for going toe to toe with the demons outside, and even less for facing the ones inside.
Zhe pushed his awareness into the man's mind, erecting a shield around his own. He wasn't sure how he had figured out how to do this, but it came instinctually. Like a long forgotten skill.
Gunther's face screwed up in pain as Zhe sent spearing forces of thoughts into his mind. He weaponized his own fear and despair, plunging them into Gunther's thoughts. Spasms shot involuntarily through his victim's face. His hands gripped the armrest until the wood creaked.
It wasn't long before Zhe was able to peel back the weakened defenses and infiltrate the man's mind, plucking at the most sensitive memories.
The smell of vodka in the air, a woman screamed from the other-side of paperthin walls. Someone important. Gunther hid in his closet, a stuffed tiger clenched in his arms. His eyes squeezed shut, but blindness didn't blot out the screams.
Gunther's heart pounded as he stood in front of a man that looked like him with a few wrinkles tacked on. His fists clenched and the emotions that ran through him felt like poison in Zhe's mind. A rage he had never known. A passion he couldn't believe. Yet still. With all that, the fear towered over them. A mountain casting its shadow over his will.
The next scene, a funeral.
Zhe pushed his will into the man's and slowly, Gunther's hand reached for the knife. Zhe was sweating now, not from effort. This was trivially easy. No, he sweat from indecision. From guilt. His emotions manifested themselves in a racing heart and trembling hands.
But he needed this. His people needed this.
He had to be selfish.
The knife rose up slowly towards Gunther's throat. It pressed into the skin until a ruby droplet was summoned forth.
Gunther's life unfolded in Zhe's memories as though they were his own.
Another scene of Gunther standing across a woman in white. Her smile was radiant.
Zhe felt what he felt, pride, ambition and a desperate need to protect. Zhe felt his love, and it was poison. It had a depth Zhe had never felt. His whole life had been spent sketching on paper and this man was molding clay.
His concentration slipped and his control faltered.
Gunther's will exploded. He pressed in, the wood cracking beneath his grip; teeth nearly cracking from the effort. A drop of blood gathered at the corner of his eye as he surged against Zhe.
Countless nights alone at home, staring over his balcony. watching young couples hold hands, seeing friends drink at bars, wishing he had someone. Anyone.
Solitary nights, resting his head upon a tear stained pillow until sleep swallowed him, only to send him back to a torturous existence of his own choosing.
Zhe finding the city beneath stone for the first time, and finding his first friend…
Images started flooding Zhe's mind. He wanted to give Gunther the stone. He could see himself doing it. His hand reached forward and grasped the stone. It didn't pass through as it did before. He wanted to give it to Gunther after all.
NO! He had too much to lose.
But another voice whispered, So did Gunther.
The stone fell through his palm, sensing his indecision.
They pressed against each other, locked in a stalemate.
Zhe wouldn't bend to his will. There were too many people depending on him. Yet still, doubt gnawed at him.
Their wills collided, two oceans crashing into each other. Zhe felt he was losing ground. The defenses he had built were torn away like a picket fence in a hurricane.
Zhe tried to hold on, but his grip slipped more with each passing second.
Then in a moment, the pressure receded. The room became still.
Gunther sat across from him, smiling. His face was caked in sweat. Dried blood traced a line down from his eye. He reached across and grabbed the stone effortlessly.
What? How?
This wasn't how it worked. He shouldn't be able to grab the stone.
Zhe lost.
Gunther took the stone and reached across the table.
What?
He dropped it into Zhe's open palm, and his awareness condensed, restricted once more to the space of his own skull.
Gunther stood up, knees shaking, and pulled Zhe to his feet.
"Do not worry. Ve will find me another stone. There is still plenty of time." Gunther assured him.
Zhe just stared at him, uncomprehending.
"Vhat? You are surprised? This is vhat friends do." Gunther beamed, patting him on the back.
Nobody had ever done something like this for Zhe before. Something so… selfless.
He didn't know how, but he would get Gunther a stone.
By his count, they had about one hour left.
There was a moment of awkward silence Zhe was all too used to, but it felt fitting here. Finally he nodded. "Thank you. I am in your debt. I'm going to get you a stone or die trying."
"Zat is unnecessary, but I like your vigor."
The man introduced him to Leo, a young boy who was drawn into the competition. Gunther had taken responsibility for him.
"Zis is no place for a child." He said as though he had no other option. The idea of simply turning away had never crossed his mind.
They strategized on the way back to the main hall. Talking of symbols, halls, challenges and where they might find some unclaimed stones.
As they entered back through the double doors, two women flew past them. Zhe overheard a snippet of their conversation.
"He went this way, I'm gonna fucking kill him."
They ran through a set of double doors nearby, the symbol of a skull overhead.