It's not a problem if you're up to your neck in shit; the problem starts if it's rippling.
It was just past eight when we arrived at the community center. I thought we were still on time—there were four hours left until midnight. I was wrong. I realized this with brutal clarity when the left side of the building crumbled before my eyes.
I sprinted full tilt, vaulted over the gate, and didn't stop until I reached the ruins. The first thing I saw was Alex, his face ashen. The second was the creature he faced—a homunculus, a mage's twisted creation. It stood a towering four meters tall, a black, humanoid mass with a single, blood-red eye at the center of its faceless head, fixated on Alex.
The pack didn't move to help him. They scattered, save for one girl who cried out his name, but she was held back by her pack. Alex stood frozen, whether from fear or shock, I couldn't tell. He didn't move, didn't react, as black tendrils shot from the beast, coiling around him and dragging him towards its grotesque form. In one harrowing instant, Alex was gone, consumed by the monstrous entity.
A gut-wrenching scream tore through the space. It took me a second to realize it was my own. The chaos froze. Dozens of homunculi, the fleeing wolves—all stood still.
I felt my blood boil, the pulse hammering through my veins so fiercely I feared I might burst. I could feel the darkness slowly seeping into my guts, but I didn't care. My mouth filled with the coppery tang of my own blood as my canines tore into my lips.
A sharp tingling radiated through my fingertips, and when I looked down, my nails had transformed into claws. I despised this form—hated the claws, the silver hair, the blackened sclera, the blazing blue irises. But in that moment, none of it mattered. All that mattered was Alex, and getting him out of that beast.
In that moment, the true White Demon was unleashed.
At my shout, three homunculi lunged at me. I leapt nimbly, my body feeling unnaturally light, as if I were weightless. The first attack missed, but the second caught me mid-air, reminding me of gravity's pull. The beast's fist slammed me to the ground, bones cracking under the impact. Pain flared briefly before the familiar tingling of rapid healing began to knit my body back together.
Believing me dead or incapacitated, the creature turned away, seeking new prey. A fatal mistake. I curled my fingers, the movement initially difficult but easing as the pain dulled. In a single bound, I was on the beast's back, severing its head in one swift motion.
The monstrosity collapsed, its dark shroud evaporating like smoke, leaving behind only a grotesque, skinless carcass. The remaining two homunculi snarled, sensing their comrade's death, and charged at me. I dodged their attacks, leaping behind them with ease, my focus on the beast that had consumed Alex. As I moved, a black tentacle coiled around my ankle, yanking me to the ground. Instinctively, I slashed at it with my claws, severing the tendril before the monster could pull me in.
I sprang to my feet. Before another blow could send me to the floor again, I leaped up and charged at the beast myself. My fist collided with its smoky form, which felt like solid stone. A sickening crack echoed as I struck its core, pain radiating up my arm. I recoiled, gripping my wrist, when Alice appeared beside me.
"Get Alex out before the homunculus consumes him!" he urged. "Leave these two to me!"
"Are you insane?!" I shouted back.
He gave me that knowing smile, the one he wore when he had the upper hand. From his bag, he pulled out a weapon—a massive gun, its barrel gleaming ominously. If the situation had been different, I might have said, "Wow-wow, mate, what the fuck," but there was no time for shock or questions. I didn't know much about firearms, but the long-barreled, black pistol with the Crosspherat's mark etched into it screamed danger.
I nodded, dodging another attack from the monstrous pair.
I turned my focus back to the beast that held Alex, moving swiftly towards it. Behind me, Alice fired his weapon, a deafening roar echoing through the space. The sound was harrowing, almost unbearable.
Angel's Scream. The Crosspherat's most formidable magical weapon. One shot could obliterate anything in its path. It was my first time hearing its devastating cry.
The homunculus lumbered toward me, each step a thunderous quake. As it closed the distance, it struck. I dodged, driving my fist into the dense black smoke shielding its form. Bone met the impenetrable barrier, cracking under the force. I hissed in pain but didn't relent—I struck again. And again. Again. Over and over.
Each blow sent searing pain through my fists as if they were engulfed in flames. My blood coated my hands, dripping onto the ground. The agony was overwhelming, and I cried out, feeling as though I couldn't endure a second more—yet, I just kept attacking without stopping.
Somehow, my body pushed beyond its limits. My arms moved with a strength I didn't understand, ignoring the fact they hadn't healed properly. Nothing else mattered—only Alex.
Then, a crack appeared in the smoke. A tiny gap that slowly widened until the shield shattered completely. My claws tore into flesh, rending muscles and tendons. Greenish fluids spurted out, burning my skin, and eating through my clothes, but I didn't care. The creature whimpered and drove its fist into my side. I seized the massive hand, yanked hard, and ripped it from the beast's body in one savage motion, tossing it aside.
The homunculus began to retreat, but I wasn't done. I struck again, sending it sprawling backward. Leaping onto its belly, I continued tearing into its flesh, relentlessly. The beast thrashed, attempting to strike me again, but I dodged its blow.
Then I felt it—a shard of life within the creature. Its heart. I wrapped my fingers around it and crushed it into dust. Greenish fluids flooded out, searing my skin. My body strained to heal, cells struggling to regenerate faster than the acid could consume them, the intense heat of the process causing my skin to steam.
I ripped open the creature's belly, exposing the stomach. Inside, I saw Alex, drenched in a yellowish gastric fluid. I pulled him out, tearing the tattered remains of my shirt to wipe the corrosive liquid from his skin before it could cause more damage.
"Alex!" I called, my voice raw with desperation. "Alex! Wake up, dammit!"
His heart beat faintly, his chest barely moving. Panic gripped me. He was dying. I cupped his face, smearing my blood on his pale skin.
"You're not going to die," I whispered, more to myself than him. "I'm going to save you. I won't let you die."
Desperate, I bit into my finger, tearing it open, and let my blood drip onto his face and chest. I pushed my healing finger into his mouth, praying it would be enough. When the wound closed too quickly, I bit down again, ready to tear deeper, but Alex's eyes fluttered open weakly. His heartbeat, though faint, was stronger. Some of his skin had started to regenerate.
He was alive.
"I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to be fine," I promised.
But as I looked up, I saw a giant homunculus closing in, its massive form casting a shadow over us. I knew I wouldn't have time to leap away. Desperately, I threw myself over Alex, shielding him with my body, bracing for the inevitable impact. Yet, to my astonishment, the expected pain never came.
When I opened my eyes, a transparent, bluish magic shield shimmered around us, absorbing the beast's relentless blows. The other homunculi were advancing, their hulking figures drawing ever closer. The battlefield was eerily empty, even the wolves and Alice had retreated.
"Hurry. If he doesn't get treatment soon, he'll die," Alistair's familiar voice echoed softly behind me. I turned to see him standing calmly, his expression resolute. "I'll distract them until then."
The fae met my gaze with a gentle smile, but his eyes were filled with unspoken sorrow.
"But..." I began, panic rising in my throat, "I won't leave you!"
"You must go," Alistair said firmly.
"You will die!" I cried, my voice breaking.
Alistair's smile wavered, the edges trembling with unspoken emotion. "I'll die soon anyway," he admitted quietly.
"No! We can get out together!" I insisted, desperation clawing at me. If only for an hour, a day, or a week—you could still live!
"I'm fae, Shay," he said, his eyes hardening with resolve. "Let me die fighting. In battle, protecting my family."
Words faltered on my lips, a torrent of emotions swirling within me. But as much as I wanted to argue, to refuse, I knew he had made his choice. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded silently. Then, without looking back, I hoisted Alex into my arms and ran. I ran with everything I had, tears blurring my vision, my heart aching with every step. I ran because I knew that if I stopped, even for a moment, I would turn back.
(...)
The next morning, I awoke to a sharp squeak. Still groggy, I lay there in a haze, barely aware of who I was or where I was. The only thing grounding me was the scent of Alex, a familiar and comforting presence. As the throbbing in my temples faded, the memories of the previous day flooded back.
The source of the noise was a blonde-haired nurse standing by the bed, her complexion shifting rapidly between a deep, poppy red and a ghostly pale. The rapid alternation was oddly entertaining, though I tried to suppress a smirk.
Eventually, she snapped her mouth shut and stormed off in a huff. I briefly considered calling her back to suggest a good psychologist but decided against it. My attention was drawn to the fae seated across from me, clearly amused by the entire scene.
His snow-white hair fell in loose strands to his collarbone, framing his slightly elongated face. His right eye sparkled mischievously, while his left was obscured by an ornate silver patch. Long, delicate earrings dangled from his ears, catching the light with every movement. He wore black leather trousers, their ends tucked into dark boots, and a thick leather belt adorned with various weapons.
I assumed he must have been invisible to the nurse—for if she had noticed him, she would certainly not have gotten outraged at the fact that Alex was using me as a teddy bear. Seriously, I couldn't believe my eyes. Even though I grew up in this world, his attire seemed unusual. Where did he lose his shirt?
I didn't even know his name, but I decided to make up for my ignorance and at least ask him, since he helped us out.
Yesterday, after we'd escaped the building on Alistair's insistence, this fae had appeared out of nowhere. With a thin-bladed sword in hand, he initially seemed like an enemy. He didn't seem any friendlier on second glance, so I tried to introduce him to my right fist, carrying a fainting Alex on my shoulder.
He dodged effortlessly, laughing as he sidestepped my feeble attempts to strike him. After a few more failed punches, he suggested I follow him if I wanted Alex to survive. I was, of course, still no more manageable than usual, and I didn't trust him at all. Seeing my reluctance, he ended the matter decisively with a well-placed punch from his sword's pommel, knocking me out.
I woke to the pungent scent of antiseptics and the unmistakable throb of a strained neck. My temples pulsed in rhythm with the dull ache radiating from my stiff muscles. Squinting, I realized I was half-slumped, half-sprawled across one of the clinic's hideous orange plastic chairs in a waiting room.
As my eyes adjusted, I spotted the fae from before, deep in conversation with an older fae. My body tensed. In an instant, I was on my feet, crossing the space between us. My hand found his throat, a clear message of my intent. Yet, his response was a maddening grin and a cheeky, "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."
Before my fist could connect with his face, a calm voice cut through the tension. The doctor, clad in a pristine medical gown, rested a hand on my shoulder. His serene demeanor and gentle smile diffused the moment, prompting me to loosen my grip. I scrutinized him briefly before releasing the fae, albeit reluctantly.
The doc bore the characteristics of a moon-eyed fae, though his irises were a shade darker, and his hair leaned more toward a light brown than the usual silvery hue. Was he using magic?
"Where's Alex?" I demanded, my voice hoarse.
The doctor nodded, motioning for me to follow. As we moved, I kept both of them in my line of sight, never letting my guard down. They led me to a nearby ward, standing aside without trying to usher me in first as if understanding the futility of such an attempt.
Yet when I entered, I forgot all my defensive instincts.
I rushed to Alex's bedside, taking in the sight of my friend swathed in gauze and bandages. An IV line dripped a strange green fluid into his left hand. I grasped his free hand, whispering his name over and over, apologizing in a loop I couldn't quite rationalize.
Apologizing for what? I wasn't entirely sure. Maybe it was for letting him go home alone, for not being there when he needed me most. Perhaps it was for failing to prevent the attack, for not finding him sooner, or for the sheer agony of knowing it had taken so long to free him from that monstrous thing.
The doctor stepped closer, his voice calm. "He'll be fine. You got him out just in time. A few more minutes, and he wouldn't have made it. But he's going to be okay now."
Then, something unexpected happened. Alex's hand, weak but deliberate, grasped my wrist. The frail touch snapped my attention from the doctor. Terror flitted across Alex's face, but it softened as his gaze met mine. He mumbled incoherent fragments about hell, screaming people, evil shadows, and unbearable pain.
I murmured reassurances as the heart rate monitor beeped erratically. Slowly, he calmed, pleading with me not to leave him alone, fearing the shadows would return. I nodded, unable to trust my voice, my silent vow as steadfast as any spoken word. The doctor and the fae quietly exited, leaving me alone with Alex.
I sank into the chair beside him, holding his hand firmly. He drifted back to sleep, exhaustion etched into his features as if haunted by nightmares. Hours passed, and as sleep threatened to pull me under, I slid onto the bed beside him. The absence of a knife at my throat when I woke reassured me the fae weren't enemies after all.
I turned my sharp gaze to the fae who seemed to be amused by my intense look. I finally asked, "Who are you?"