The mannequins moved.
Not in the jerky, disjointed way of puppets on strings, but with a terrible, liquid grace, their smooth, featureless faces tilting in unison toward the boys. Limbs twisted at impossible angles, spines arching backward like bows drawn too tight, their porcelain skin gleaming under the light of the moon hanging in the sky. Then… they melted.
One by one, they collapsed into each other, their bodies dissolving at the seams, arms fusing into torsos, legs knitting together into grotesque pillars of flesh-coloured wax. The air filled with a wet, sucking sound, like mud being pulled from a riverbank, as the mass of them swelled, rising higher, broader, until it loomed over the street like a cruise ship made of mannequin parts. Its surface rippled, limbs half-formed and dissolving back into the whole, faces pressing against its skin only to be swallowed again.
Then it struck.
A single hand, enormous and seamless, snapped forward with terrifying speed. Its fingers flicked, a casual, almost dismissive motion, and the air shattered.
Corbin barely had time to brace before the force hit him like a cannon blast. His body tore through the department store's wall, through the café beyond it, through brick and plaster and glass, the world blurring into streaks of colour and noise until…
THUD.
He landed hard on something soft.
Blinking stars from his vision, he realized he was sprawled across the furred back of one of Ruben's dragons, its navy-blue skin shimmering faintly in the moonlight. Above him, another dragon streaked through the sky, Ruben crouched low on its back, his locs whipping in the wind as he screamed Corbin's name.
Ruben's dragon banked sharply, landing beside him with a gust of wind that sent loose debris skittering across the rooftop. "You alive?" Ruben's voice was tight, his eyes scanning Corbin for injuries.
"Yeah," Corbin growled, shoving himself upright. His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. "Can't go full force, though. Not with civilians still in there."
Ruben's jaw tightened. He didn't argue. Instead, he turned his gaze back toward the monstrosity now lumbering through the shopping district, its every step making the ground tremble. "I'll figure something out."
Before Corbin could respond, Ruben was gone, his dragon surging back into the sky with a powerful leap motion.
The phantasm was faster than it looked.
Ruben wove through the air, his dragon twisting mid-flight as the creature's massive hand swiped at him, missing by inches. The wind pressure alone sent his dragon spinning, but Ruben was able to adjust instinctively, leaning into the motion, his body moving in perfect sync with his summon.
He wasn't scared.
That realization struck him as he dodged another swing, the Phantasm's fingers carving through a lamppost like it was paper. His heart pounded, yes, but not with fear. With something… alive. Thrill.
He dove low, skimming the rooftops, his dragon's claws scraping against tiles as he circled the creature. Its movements were erratic, aggressive now, no longer the frozen predator waiting for them to look away.
Why?
He caught a glimpse of something. Deep within the center of the Phantasm's gelatinous mass, a darker shape pulsed, a core it looked like. Ruben was able to summon another dragon, three before things started blurring. This dragon dove down quickly to inspect it.
It got close enough and from the information Ruben was able to receive from it he could tell it didn't have a human smell like the others. It was doll-like but also something else, like the same feeling that altered him and Corbin to the creature.
Ruben pulled up sharply, his dragon twisted and shot back towards Corbin.
"It's using them as shields." Ruben panted as he landed beside Corbin. "The real body's in the center."
Corbin's eyes narrowed. "Then why's it attacking us now? Before, it only moved when we looked away."
Ruben shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We just need to get to the core."
Corbin studied him for a moment, then nodded. "You're breathing heavy."
"I'm fine." Ruben said, though his lungs burned.
Corbin didn't press. He just cracked his neck and said, "Then let's go."
They moved as one.
Ruben took to the skies again, his dragons splitting into two, one beneath him, one flanking Corbin as he launched himself toward the Phantasm. The creature swung, but Corbin twisted mid-air, his foot connecting with its wrist in a devastating kick that sent cracks spiderwebbing up its arm.
Ruben didn't hesitate. He dove, his dragon's claw raking across the Phantasm's chest, tearing chunks of mannequin-flesh free. The creature staggered, but its wounds sealed almost instantly, new limbs sprouting from the gaps.
"Center!" Corbin barked, landing hard on a nearby rooftop. "We need to hit the center!"
Ruben knew. But getting there meant carving through more layers of innocent people, their bodies still trapped and acting as their master made them.
Corbin had changed course and Ruben had noticed it.
Corbin leapt, his fists a blur as he pummeled the Phantasm's legs, each strike sending shockwaves through its unstable form. The creature reeled, its attention fully on Corbin now, its massive hands swiping at him like a child trying to crush a fly.
Ruben seized the opening.
His second dragon surged forward, its maw widening as it acted as a veil, a shimmering curtain that wrapped around the Phantasm's torso. For a fraction of a second, the creature's outer layers turned translucent, revealing the shiny center of its real body that was just a shade lighter than the rest of the mannequin that surrounded it.
Corbin didn't need to be told twice.
He planted his feet, his muscles coiling like springs, and then…
BOOM.
His fist connected with the core.
The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, the Phantasm's body exploding into a rain of mannequin parts that dissolved into mist before they hit the ground. The frozen civilians reappeared exactly where they'd been standing, blinking in confusion as if nothing had happened.
Silence.
"Holy shit!" Corbin said.
The two of them were on the roof of a nearby building now. Even though the people were alright and moved like nothing happened they did stop when they noticed the damage and massive hole in one of the buildings.
"That was our first fight with a Phantasm." Ruben said.
The burn in his lungs was hotter now. He knew the cause of it. Sure his time in the hospital healed him up all the way, but there were some things that would just need more time, unless he found someone with a healing Ego.
Dario offered but Ruben said no.
"How strong do you think that one was?" Corbin asked, he sounded genuinely intrigued. He dropped the loudness he usually kept in his tone.
Ruben shrugged his shoulders. There was no ranking system for Phantasm.
It was explained to them in school during the discussion about classes that Ego's fell in.
Due to how Phantasm gain their strength through the fear they are able to gather from living things. Ranking them was almost pointless since it was hard to fit them in one group altogether.
It was similar to Classes that egos fell in. Someone could gain a spatial ability which could have effects similar to what Ruben thought Jarek's ability was to store things in a separate space, which would put him in the Specialist class. But then later on, they could reveal an ability to teleport with the same spatial ability which could put them in the Travellers class instead.
At least there was basically a guideline to it, there was nothing for the fighting strength of a Phantasm though, except for an armageddon rank. This one was reserved for a very specific few in the known world so far though. Like the 'First Children'.
"Surprise!"
Dario's voice came from behind them, smooth as aged whiskey. The boys turned to find him leaning against a rooftop vent, his white hair glowing faintly in the moonlight.
"I was watching you guys the whole time. You looked great."
"What!!!" Corbin didn't have it in him to hold back his voice.
"Yeah, just seeing how you guys were fighting together and how you were using your Egos. Good work."
"You piece of shit. What if something happened?" Corbin fired back.
"Nothing would have happened. I was watching." Dario was odd. He was a kind old man. But in a situation like this, he seemed a little more interested in how our powers would work here.
Ruben was thinking that…if this was his first time meeting him he may have a completely different view on him from here on out.
Right now, he just thinks that it's perfectly in his character, so he'll just get over it.
"Great job beating your first Phantasm." He said again, this time annoying Corbin further by ruffling his hair. "Now where's my shirt. And My snacks, I know you two were able to find them."
Ruben looked around and then realized there was no way he would have been able to keep that in tact during the fight.
"I think I dropped the snacks." Ruben said.
"Yeah, well while you were watching me get flicked around you should have noticed your shirt go flying too with it." Corbin snarled.
Dario dramatically acted by throwing his hands over his eyes… "Damnit. So you guys failed. You failed your task! We'll be starting again tomorrow."
***
The villa's guest room smelled of salt and damp towels, the rhythmic crash of distant waves seeping through the half-open window. Ruben lay on his bed, one arm draped over his eyes, the other absently scratching at the inside of his elbow. The ceiling above him was studded with seashells, tiny, pearlescent things glued in uneven spirals, remnants of some past summer.
The shower hissed in the adjoining bathroom, steam creeping under the door in slow, curling tendrils. Corbin would be out soon.
Then a tap at the window.
Ruben didn't need to look. His nose caught the feline scent first, something earthy and a recent smell of tuna beneath the brine. He sighed.
"You're still alive?" Jasper's voice was faux-surprised, his tone dripping with the kind of exaggerated relief one might use on a child who'd wandered too close to a cliff.
Ruben lowered his arm just enough to glare at the cat perched on the windowsill. "Why'd you run?"
Jasper's tail flicked. "Felt a Phantasm." He said it like it was obvious, like Ruben had asked why water was wet.
Ruben didn't correct him. At the time Jasper ran, there was nothing but a weird reflection. He wasn't really sure if it was just another weird thing of this world. That thing in the tidepool.
His fingers dug into his arm again, nails raking over unbroken skin.
Jasper's emerald eyes tracked the motion. "Ohhh," he drawled, leaping soundlessly onto the dresser. "Someone's showing an unpleasant itch."
Ruben exhaled through his nose. He didn't know what Jasper was talking about, but it wouldn't be too surprising if he knew why. For someone that had lived so many lives anyway.
"You're clawing yourself like a flea-bitten stray." Jasper licked his paw, smug. "Why."
Ruben sat up, his locs now out of there protective style and rustling against the pillow. For a moment, he considered throwing the cat back out the window. But the words were there, it's not like he wanted to bring this up to Corbin or Dario again so soon.
"I had a problem," he said finally. "With substances. And it… I thought after the last incident I just wouldn't want to be anywhere near them again."
But he was wrong.
Jasper's ear twitched. "Ah. That itch." He said it like it was a familiar old foe. "No matter how hard you scratch, you will never reach that itch."
Ruben's jaw tightened.
The cat grinned, sharp. "Just get over it."
Ruben deadpanned. "Wow. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Most humans don't," Jasper mused, hopping onto the foot of Ruben's bed. "Too busy feeling the unnecessary things. It's so very dramatic." He tilted his head. "What's it like? When you're on that stuff."
Ruben looked away. He just realized he was speaking to a cat about problems, that for all he knew were solely human problems.
"Come on," Jasper pressed, tail flicking. "Indulge me. I've only died like seven times. I need stories to pass the time."
Ruben thought it was stupid. But he decided to let it out.
"It's like…" Ruben started, his voice was quiet. "There's someone else in here. Steering. And they know exactly where to go, how to move, what to say. And you trust them more than you trust anything else in life up to that point." He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "I just felt right."
Jasper studied him. Then began with his own response.
"In my second life," he started. "I had an owner. Thin fellow. Twitchy. Smelled like chemicals all the time." A pause. "He died face down in a gutter. Liver gave out."
Ruben didn't react.
"Third life," Jasper continued. "My then owner's girlfriend had that same twitch. Same smell. Lived though." He licked his paw again. "Switched her addiction. From drugs to him. Even when he hit her. Even when he made her indulge in her past addictions. She stayed. Anytime anyone would ask why she would just say the same thing. He made her feel right."
Ruben's fingers stilled on his arm.
"None of that crap is helping, damn cat."
Jasper's tail flicked, unbothered. "Isn't it? Oh well. What I'm trying to say is, try and replace one addiction with another. Might as well pick something that won't rot your insides."
Ruben frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"What about Corbin? Or Dario?" Jasper said. "What a surprise to find out that your gramps is the strongest man in the world."
"He adopted us." And the thought of making a person… your drug. It didn't sound right, it didn't even sound like it was possible or like anything good could come out of it.
From Jasper's story it clearly turned out bad. His owner treated his girlfriend as he pleased. It was a silly idea. One that would only help him for so long.
Jasper stretched, claws kneading the quilt. "If you're going to latch onto something, at least make it useful. You should really speak to a human about this."
Great.
The bathroom door creaked open.
Corbin stepped out, a towel draped over his head, water dripping down his bare shoulders. He froze when he saw Jasper.
"Why," he said flatly, "is there a stray in our room?"
Jasper blinked up at him, innocent. "Meow?"
Ruben shrugged, not trying to explain how he knew the cat. Corbin's eyes flicked between them, he already knew that Ruben didn't really like cats so he quickly figured it was here for something important. "What the hell were you two talking about?"
"Nothing." Ruben muttered from beneath the pillow.
Jasper stretched, his claws kneading Corbin's blanket. "Just discussing the meaning of the universe and why humans insist on wearing clothes."
Corbin stared. Then he grabbed the cat by the scruff.
"Out."
Jasper yowled in protest as Corbin unceremoniously dumped him out the window. The cat landed gracefully on the veranda below, shooting them a look of pure indignation before stalking off into the night.
Corbin turned back to Ruben, arms crossed. "You good?"
Ruben turned to meet his gaze. "Yeah."
Corbin studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded, grabbing a shirt from his bag. "Don't let strays in again. They shed."
"Right."
***
The sea breeze carried the scent of salt through the open balcony doors, rustling the papers strewn across Dario's desk. He leaned against the railing, phone pressed to his ear, watching the waves crash against the cliffs below. The sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and the last stubborn streaks of gold.
A voice crackled through the receiver, smooth, measured, but with an undercurrent of something heavier. The man on the other end of the phone was named Dorian Orvelle.
"You let them fight a Phantasm." Dorian didn't phrase it as a question.
Dario grinned, though the man couldn't see it. "They killed it too. Not bad for a couple of kids who've only been training for what, two years?"
A pause. Then, colder, "You know the Bureau's stance on non Paladin engaging with Phantasm."
"Oh come on. It was a runt. Big, sure, but slow and weak. Barely even a threat." Dario flicked a pebble over the railing, listening for the distant plink as it hit the water. "Besides, they needed the practice."
"Practice." Dorian's voice sharpened. "Or a test?"
Dario's fingers landed on the railing softly. "You think I'd throw them at something I wasn't sure they could handle?"
"I think," Dorian said slowly, "... I don't know what to think."
The waves roared beneath them, a sound like grinding teeth. Dario exhaled, watching his breath fog in the coming air. "It wasn't natural. Phantasm's don't usually spawn like that in Velvenport. And even though I said it was weak. There really should have been little chances of it being in this part of the city."
Silence. Then, quieter. "You believe it was planted?"
"I know it was." Dario turned his back to the sea, staring into the dimly lit room behind him, the scattered reports, the half-empty coffee cup, the sword leaning against the wall like a slumbering beast. "Question is, why them?"
Another pause, longer this time. Dorian's voice, when it came, was taut. "There's been no movement from the other Pillars. No whispers from your usual enemies."
"That's kind of worrying." Dario's thumb traced the edge of his phone, the metal cold against his skin. "They're planning something big. Something final. And they're patient enough to wait for the right moment to swing the axe."
A sigh… heavy, weary. "I'll see what I can do from my end. Additional security. And whatever else you may need."
"Don't bother." Dario cut him off, voice flat. "If they succeed in offing me somehow, you'll be next. And if you survive, you won't have the power to protect them anyway."
A beat. Then, softer, almost resigned. "I have options, Dario."
"Options?" Dario barked a laugh, but there was no humour in it. "I've been playing this game longer than you. I know how it ends."
The line hummed with static, the weight of decades hanging between them. Dorian had been around the same age as Dario when he started off his Paladin Journey, just a little older and much more naive with too many ideals. But it was almost necessary for the role he was gunning for.
They'd both seen regimes rise and fall, watched allies become corpses, and still stood. The only other one within a similar position was the Pillar of Law. A major proponent to Dario's upbringing, but now Dario can only view him as another power hungry enemy that may be plotting against him.
Finally, Dorian spoke again. "Then what do you suggest?"
Dario's gaze drifted to the training yard below.
"Nothing," he said at last. "I'll make sure they're ready to stand on their own. Gotta go!"
The call ended without ceremony. Dario lowered the phone and looked in a different direction. He felt something negative there. Is this another part of the attack this morning?
The wind kept howling. And the waves kept crashing.
Dario knew that this presence was much stronger and there were multiple.