I watched Isaiah, my mutated body continually acting and shifting, resisting the primal urge to lash out and attack him. The man's indifferent expression drooped, his singular eye shimmering with an inscrutable emotion that I couldn't see in the dim lighting. His trembling hands came to rest, returning to his sides. He then looked back up at me.
"I know what you feel for them. You know them, you've eaten with them ...but you've also been mocked and beaten by them. You've been laughed at for the inability to take a shot, for "not living hard enough.""
"You have demons within you, demons that surface every so often and cause you harm. They laugh and exploit your weakness, costing you what you hold dear to yourself..."
Isaiah's voice dropped to a whisper, and his eye seemed to soften just a little. He took another step forward, as a small, almost fatherly smile crossed his aged features. The light above him flickered in small, unpredictable intervals, and a gentle yet cold breeze coursed through the room. Behind the closed door, the laughing of the wraith had now disappeared, replaced by the hurried, frantic noises of nurses barking orders and collecting the only evidence of the carnage outside.
"You think overcoming grief and trauma is a simple, single-day process, but it spans months, years, maybe even decades..."
Isaiah's hand suddenly found its way to my shoulder, gently squeezing the bone beneath. He continued to smile gently, and he cocked his head slightly.
"Your friends may not understand you, they ignore your trauma ...but I understand what lies in those desolate corners, I'm one of few that fathom the unfathomable."
Isaiah leaned in even closer, his breath icy yet warm against my ears. "I'm your ally, not an enemy."
The words slowly spilled from his lips, seeping into my ears. At this moment, my entire body seemed to grow warm, not in a way that indicated heavy arousal, but in an almost euphoric, dazed sense. The dim lights of the room slowly grew hazier, brightening and stinging my eyes. Illusory colors and symbols began to manifest in the crooks of Isaiah's fingertips, transforming into ethereal strings.
The strings extended outwards, slowly finding their way to my arms and legs, wrapping around my limbs in a gentle, almost parental grip. With a gentle tug, Isaiah pulled me forward, sending me onto my knees. The heat in my body continued to spread, slowly engulfing my entire world. Isaiah grabbed the metallic card from the counter, setting the object on my forehead.
The Apocalypse sigil, previously burning with fervor, extinguished in an instant.
The illusory, crimson and black energy seeped from the symbol, gravitating towards the surface of the metal card. I watched my back arching slightly as a face began to form on the card, manifesting and painting my picture bit-by-bit. Soon enough, my clear visage took shape on the surface of the card, alongside my full name.
"I'm your friend, someone who wants to help you along the way..." Isaiah's voice whispered as his other hand found the crook of my neck, running one of his fingers along the sensitive nerves, spidering down my back and finding my tailbone.
"I'm the gateway to eternal peace and happiness, no one can come close to this rapture..."
Isaiah suddenly reached up, positioning his hand over his face. My body, engulfed in a euphoric heat, wanted to cower and look away the moment Isaiah began to peel away at his own flesh, revealing the layers of fibrous muscles and tendons underneath. The contents under his face writhed and contorted with a gentleness, a numb pulsing that sharply contrasted the bitter, stomach-churning scene.
The surface of the metallic card lit up again, causing the skin under Isaiah's face to contort, sharpening and shortening in a skin-crawling, bitter fashion. A pair of eyes gradually emerged, bearing a grayish-brown hue. A nose, sharp and prominent, emerged, composed of the same writhing flesh, muscles and blood. Crimson, flesh-colored lips slithered out of gaps in the tendons, puckering to adjust to the surreal sensation of realness.
After everything was completed, Isaiah chuckled darkly as he raised his original face, which now bore no features—a sheet of skin, and positioned it in front of the gaping hole in his head. Tendrils of flesh and blood emerged from within my macabre visage, coiling around the edges of their face and pulling them inwards, silently and efficiently stitching my own likeness to his body.
Isaiah's form also began to shrink, and his clothing began to undergo changes. His coat and boots darkened in color, edging on iron-black. The snow-white follicles atop his head darkened to a deep brown, and a pair of glasses took shape, bearing rectangular frames similar to my own.
He wasn't in the light gray tunic I was currently wearing, but the black coat and vest I wore before being sent here.
As he laughed to himself, his voice also raised in pitch—only a little. I remained frozen in euphoric bliss as Isaiah's form contorted and changed, taking my own body, my own thoughts and life, and replicating them in front of me to watch.
"It's quite humorous. You've been blessed with two eyes, but you need spectacles to see properly. Goes to show how divinity operates in ways that we can't comprehend—or at least, you can't comprehend."
The Apocalypse sigil took shape on his forehead, burning and ebbing with a crimson coloring that sparked through his body, fueling his veins with illusory energy. Isaiah spread his arms slightly, closing his eyes as if accepting divine rapture—the only way off a world too unfit for someone like him.
"I knew it wasn't erroneous to label you a lunatic. You possess powers that dwarf my own to a certain extent!"
Isaiah, who now looked and sounded identical to me, turned around and faced the door.
"Come, demons and devils! Return to your master!"
...
Shinso darted out the door, immediately looking towards the sky. Overhead, he caught sight of countless phantoms and illusory creatures souring, whispering in ancient languages and laughing heartily as they caused havoc. Within restaurants and pubs, people laughed and chuckled as they engaged in drunkenness and lustful acts, acting purely in instinct and desire.
He swiftly leapt back in time to dodge a wraith heading in his exact direction, its mouth wide open in an attempt to devour the boy. Shinso's hands habitually moved for this firearm, pulling it out in time and shooting a bullet—except the bullet failed to do little as slow down the wraith.
"Goddamnit," Shinso gritted, tumbling out of the way as the wraith entered Catherine's house.
Within the building, he heard sounds of calamity—firearms, bullets, and screaming. Shadows crept up the windows and floors, attempting to swallow the manor in its entirety. Through the gradually darkening windows, Shinso caught sight of Humphrey and the other Pollinators shooting their guns left and right, mystical, lime-green bullets dancing off the walls and turning the demons to ashes.
"Why didn't they think to give me a gun like that!—" Shinso was suddenly snagged from behind, pulled up into the air by an illusory creature.
Its mouth spread open, revealing a chaotic vortex of rippling, pulsing energy that crackled like a live wire. Shinso struggled in its grip, twisting and turning his body in an attempt to break free from the wraith. At this moment, the wraith's eyes widened as it let out a howl of pain. The illusory, chaotic vortex within its mouth gradually dissipated, alongside its illusory form.
A beam of resplendent light had turned it to nothingness!
Shinso tumbled to the ground, barely rolling onto his feet to avoid a grave injury. His eyes widened, and he couldn't help but smile upon seeing Ayumi and Raymond—their clothing tattered from fighting.
Ayumi smirked, showing him the flower-painted disk in her palm.
"How did you..." Shinso struggled to comprehend this. He had digested his own potion first, but he was astonished to find out that Ayumi was the one to display such raw power!
"Pathway Fragments, you'll learn soon enough dummy!" The black-haired girl spun around, shooting more bursts of energy at the oncoming enemies.
"That watch, it's also one." Raymond pointed to the object dangling out of Shinso's right pocket—the bronze pocket watch he had earned a while ago.
"Huh?" Shinso grabbed the watch by its chain, dangling it in the air.
Before Raymond could keep explaining, everyone turned their heads to the right, catching sight of the horde heading in their direction. These people, clad in farmers attire and tarnished, dirty rags, moved lethargically in their direction, habitually clawing at the air and growling—foaming at the mouths.
"What the hell ...are those zombies?" Shinso's grip tightened on the pocket watch, which now began to buzz with a brighter, orange light.
"Zombies? Those are from children's stories!—" Raymond's clarification was met with a harsh slap to the face.
"They look creepy, they walk like they haven't slept in years, and they're all gross looking; I'd call them zombies!" Ayumi snapped, shooting a harsh glance at the boy.
Raymond crossed his arms, looking the other way to avoid anyone from seeing his face bloom red. "F-fine, whatever."
From above, a figure descended from the rooftops, Mr. Ryujin. His gaze immediately assessed the oncoming enemies with a sharpness that resembled a blade. Without much hesitation, he leapt forward, a small torrent of azure fire bursting from his mouth, smoldering one of the undead to a crisp. It let out a long, feeble whine as its body disintegrated completely.
"Y-you ...bastard," Ayumi tried her best to suppress her anger.
Hearing this, Mr. Ryujin smirked softly, shrugging. "I wanted to see how you'd fight the zombie on your own."
Ayumi's grip tightened on the flower disk as she scoffed. "Well, that was before I knew you could act like a literal dragon!"
"To each their own," Mr. Ryujin let out a low chuckle, assuming a fighting posture.