In the far corner of a dark basement a man sat, steeling his nerves for what he knew he had to do. The sounds of the fight above had carried even to this far point, a rare blessing of sounds to a man who had heard nothing but his voice in weeks. Mason's booming yells had given him a clue to what was going on, and any information he was lacking was quickly filled in by his imagination. It was no surprise that Mason would be building an army, or that he'd done it in the most cliché, action movie method possible. He couldn't be completely sure what was happening, but it was obviously some sort of gladiatorial fight.
They wouldn't be distracted for long and he needed to do this before the moment passed.
Ed breathed deeply, the shears in his hand poised open over the thumb on his left hand. One final, deep breath. "Fuck you for making me do this you fucking psycho."
He squeezed it shut as quickly as possible, before his instincts could stop the movement. His scream carried through the blessedly empty house.
Ed slipped his hand out of the manacle, wincing as the metal brushed against the open muscle and bone where his thumb had been. He rose on shaky legs, placing the missing thumb in his mouth like a macabre cigar and gripping the shears tight. He stumbled through the darkness, feeling his way around furniture and walls until light appeared around a corner. The dim glow coming from above guided him to a staircase that led into the house proper.
He paused at the bottom. There was no way a nude, bleeding man missing fingers wouldn't be spotted walking through the house, and he was in no shape to even attempt to fight anyone. His mind raced furiously, but only one option came to mind.
He pulled his aching hand out of his armpit, blood still welling from the severed digit. He had to set the shears down for the next part, fear rising in him at being disarmed, even if even momentarily. He knew that the shears wouldn't do much for him anyway, it was his magic that would get him out of this, but being weaponless felt instinctual. He collected himself - all he needed was a medium to use as paint and something to paint with.
He dipped the tip of his severed thumb in the blood still welling from the wound and began to paint on the wall next to him. His tracking spell took shape, but this time he changed the lines. This time he wasn't seeking a who, but a what. Well, two whats, to be precise. The spell took shape and the blood suddenly pooled into a single blob clinging to the wall, awaiting his command.
The next part would be trickier, but his conversations with Zavier came to mind. He'd watched the way Z had subtly changed the spell that would become System Block to fit his needs, and realized that he'd been limiting its use to other people - or to blocking out incoming elements. But what if he could use it to direct elements around him? What if he could redirect light?
He dipped the thumb again and began to draw on his chest and stomach, then arms, then legs. He wasn't able to reach his back, but he hoped it'd be enough if he kept his back to the wall. His body shimmered a deep red, then faded to a pinkish glow. Then he disappeared entirely, not even able to see his own hands.
He placed the thumb back into his mouth and picked up the shears again, sending the seeking spell off to find his brush and palette.
He walked through the house, bare feet padding lightly against the marble floor. He considered making himself silent but didn't want to risk interfering with the invisibility spell, opting instead to just tip toe as silently as possible. His breath caught in his throat as some of Mason's lieutenants walked into the room. He held his breath as they walked within arm's reach of him, letting it out slowly when they continued on without so much as a glance his way. More confident in his invisibility now, the only thing he had to worry about was the obvious bubble of blood moving along the walls in front of him. He urged it to go faster, risking a quick jog.
Come on, come on! How big is this damned house?
The house was filling with commotion and he was beginning to feel weak. He hadn't walked, or even stood, in weeks - his chains had been just long enough to let him crouch. It was an unnecessary bit of cruelty that Gabriel had enjoyed every time he'd watched Ed try to stand. The bubble paused at the bottom of another staircase and Ed paused to catch his breath. It was narrow enough that anyone trying to pass him would bump into him. He needed to rush it, but didn't know if his legs would hold up.
Come on, man, you got this. He steeled himself again and rushed the stairs, urging the bubble ahead as quickly as possible. He reached the top without incident, collapsing to the floor, trying to control his panting. The short hallway was empty of people, but rich with doors. He thanked his lucky stars that he wouldn't have to search them all.
The bubble moved to a doorway at the end of the hall and Ed stepped to it cautiously, testing the handle as slowly as his shaking hand would allow. He breathed a sigh of relief as it swung open silently to reveal a lavish bedroom with a massive bed on the far side. He stuttered to a stop when he saw the snoring figure laying on top of the comforter, pants around his thighs and limp penis still held in his hands. Ed shuddered in disgust.
I could have gone my entire life without seeing that part of you, Gabriel.
The bubble had moved to a dresser standing near the bed. Ed padded his way silently to it, carefully pulling open the top drawer. There, finally, were his tools. A part of him that had been missing was finally complete again as he touched them, drawing them into the dimensional space inside his soul that was their home.
"What is happening?"
Ed spun to see a bleary-eyed Gabriel sitting up in bed, squinting his direction. "What is that?"
His exposed back had been facing the bed and Ed realized that Gabriel could see it. The thin man peered more intently, his eyes going wide as he pierced the spell. He saw Ed then, standing in full, bloody glory in front of him.
"You!"
"That's right, motherfucker. Me."
Gabriel scrambled to get out of the bed, his pants tangling his limbs as he did. Ed dipped the thumb in his wound again and began to draw in the air between them. A dark red light began to glow and Ed drew faster, panic rising in him as Gabriel began to tumble his way.
The spell was completed an instant before Gabriel's reaching hands stumbled into him, a dark red portal springing up between them. Gabriel's cry of rage was cut off as he fell into it, then disappeared, the portal shutting immediately after. Ed smiled in grim satisfaction as a new skill appeared in his vision.
Name: Blood-Touched Gate
Type: Blood Magic/Spatial Manipulation
Level: 1
Description: This dangerous portal skill allows the user to create a gateway between two locations, but at a deadly cost. By using the user's own blood as the catalyst, the portal becomes infused with dark, destructive energy strengthened by the user's enmity toward those who would pass through it. Any creature or being that passes through the Blood-Touched Gate suffers minor to major damage, lashed apart by spatial distortions and jagged edges of the blood-charged rift. The amount of damage caused is determined by the caster's desire to cause harm to the traveler. The user can only open the gate to locations they have visited before or have a strong visual impression of, similar to other spatial manipulation spells. The gate's unstable and violent nature ensures it can never be used without damage, but the amount of damage is determined by the caster and can be different for each being traveling through it.
Effects:
Blood Rift Creation: The user sacrifices their own blood to open a portal to a familiar location. The portal inflicts up to 25% of maximum health in damage to any being who passes through it, regardless of protection. The damage is based on the violent spatial distortions and razor-like energy at the threshold of the portal. Hemorrhage Path: Each time a creature passes through the Blood-Touched Gate, they suffer from continuous bleeding, lowering their health regeneration for 5 minutes. Portal Range: As with other spatial spells, the user can open the gate to any location they've visited or have a strong visual impression of. However, the distance shortens by 50% due to the strain caused by blood magic.
Limitations:
Blood Sacrifice: Each cast requires the user to spill a significant amount of their own blood (5% of maximum health per traveler), making frequent use dangerous. Unstable Passage: The portal lasts only for a short time (15 seconds), and only a limited number of beings (5 maximum) can pass through before it collapses. Cooldown: After casting, the skill enters a 24-hour cooldown period due to the heavy toll it takes on the user's body and energy. Special Note: Passing through the Blood-Touched Gate is a last resort, as the destructive energy can't be mitigated by armor or magical protection.
He realized that there was another dimensional space he had access to, this one not located in his soul but still attached to him somehow. He'd seen the system announcement the same as everyone else, but it had flowed past his consciousness without taking hold. What use did a dead man have for spatial storage?
He did now, though. He placed the thumb there, then the shears. He experimented with pulling both out and realized that he could call them to his hand instantly or he could direct the bag to 'dump' out specific contents around him within his reach. "Well, that'll be useful," he mumbled to himself as he rooted through the dresser for clothing. He found some, grateful that Gabriel never seemed to change his clothing and, thus, didn't need this dresser. If he'd had to wear something that that human skid mark had worn he'd have walked out of here with all his danglies showing.
Feeling slightly more human now that he was clothed again he searched the room for anything useful. His search turned up nothing else of note and he was disappointed not to find any shoes, although the feeling of soft socks on his feet again felt like a pleasure beyond anything he'd ever experienced. For a moment he considered heading downstairs to look for anything else he could steal, but dismissed it. He'd gotten lucky getting up here, and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity. Besides, his hand still hurt like a bitch.
The brush was back in his hand and a warm glow spread inside of him. Welcome home, he thought as he held it in front of him. Familiar colors appeared in in the air, highlighting his smiling face with their prismatic glow.
Then he was gone.
Gabriel landed on the broken asphalt with a wet slomp. He groaned in pain, wincing as he rolled to his back. He lifted his hands, letting the sleeves of his duster fall down his skinny forearms. Everywhere across his hands and arms - and everywhere else, he knew - was covered in shallow cuts, tears, and places where the flesh had just burst open. He checked his health and saw that he was down 25%, and he felt every single percent of it. When he'd fallen through the portal his world had become a prison of pure torture. He was smothered in a blackness so complete that no spell that had been created could have survived the domain. He wasn't in there a second before the attacks came, silent and unpredictable, too fast to register, while slow enough to make him feel every excruciating millimeter of them slicing through his skin. His clothing may as well have not even been there, as the attacks didn't even seem to register them. He was sliced, ripped, and burst over and over again for what felt like an eternity - an eternity shackled inside an endless blackness, unable to even pass out to avoid the pain.
Then he was through, his internal clock making him realize that it had only been an instant.
He lay there, panting. Next to him was a frozen custard stand, its windows still shuttered. Boats bobbed in the water, some having washed up onto shore while others seemed anchored at a distance. He saw odd rippling in the water near the boats and was pretty sure he saw movement on a few of them. Beyond them the distinctive skyline was silhouetted with the Milwaukee Art Museum, the Milwaukee County War Memorial, and the skyline that was a mix of old world brick history and modern glass and metal skyscrapers.
He began kicking his feet and slamming his arms onto the ground in a full-blown tantrum. Oddly shaped birds scattered at his yell.
"FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!"