Marcus had not yet fully recovered. The venom still clouded his movements, if only slightly. His strikes had grown slower, and dodging Mara's dagger had become harder. She, however, had not relented she pressed harder.
Things were turning in her favor until a small gasp came from behind the half open door of the next room. Mara froze where she stood, while Marcus spun instantly toward the sound. The door stood ajar, and through the crack appeared Theoden's face.
Marcus shot forward, lightning fast, rushing past Mara. He lunged at the door, and before it could shut he grabbed Theoden's arm, yanking the small body inside. His sharp claws pressed against the boy's throat.
"Don't move!"
***
[Mara perspective]
My feet rooted in place. My heart plummeted. Marcus stood behind Theoden, his long bloody claws digging into my child's neck. His expression was void of anything but naked threat. Theoden trembled, his eyes screaming: "Save me, mother."
And in that moment, I hated myself. I hated my pride, my stubbornness, my refusal to believe that masked man's warnings when I still had a chance to flee. But now no time for regret.
Marcus pressed his claws harder against my son's skin.
"Drop the dagger now, or else…"
I hurled the dagger with all my strength. The blade cut through the air straight at Marcus. It wasn't strategy it was pure instinct. But the timing was perfect. He raised his arm to block, his balance faltered. I seized the chance, lunged forward, pulled Theoden sharply to me, crushed his head against my chest, and whispered rapidly in his ear:
"Run. Head west. Don't look back. Don't stop running, no matter what you hear or see. Do you understand?"
He nodded silently, though tears welled in his eyes. Then he spun and bolted for the door. Marcus reached out to grab him, but I was faster I cut him off, arm outstretched, blocking his path. Marcus stumbled back while Theoden vanished beyond the door.
Now only the two of us remained. He lunged at me like a rabid dog. I leapt back, dodging his first strike, then rolled across the floor until my hand closed around my dagger. Rising in a swift motion, I counter attacked. But he twisted, caught my wrist with one hand, and sneered:
"Is this all you've got?"
I didn't answer. I drove my knee into his gut. He gasped, his grip loosening. I wrenched free, pivoted, and slashed at his flank.
But each time I hurt him, his speed only increased. His strikes grew sharper, more savage. Even the poison's lingering effect no longer slowed him. He feinted, slipped behind me, and sank his claws deep into my shoulder. Hot blood poured down my neck.
He licked it from his fingers, muttering with revolting pleasure:
"Your blood tastes… exquisite."
I staggered back, clutching my wound. The battle was no longer mine. I knew I would lose. I wasn't fighting to win, not anymore. I wasn't even fighting to save myself. I was fighting to buy Theoden time.
I readied myself for another desperate strike but Marcus's claws pierced straight through my chest.
My life unraveled in an instant. They say your life flashes before your eyes it did. I saw myself as a lost child in the alleyways. As a teenager gripping a weapon for the first time. I saw every face that had passed through my life… and those who had fallen by my hand.
But none of it mattered now. The light dimmed from my eyes. Perhaps this was the price. The price for every drop of blood I had spilled. For every life I had taken.
Yet even in my final moments, I did not think of them. Not of myself. Only of Theoden. Please, my son be safe.
***
[Marcus perspective]
I stared down at the body, blood gushing from her chest. A laugh escaped me soft at first, then building into a wild, ringing cackle.
I knelt beside her, brushed my fingers across her cheek, studied her face. Then I clasped her head with both hands, pinned her body beneath my foot, and tore it free. Holding it up, I looked once more into her stiffening features. I smiled, whispering into her ear:
"Won't he be delighted? Won't Ilery rejoice to see his beloved wife again?"
I laughed once more, tucked the head carefully into a leather sack I'd found in the kitchen, and rose. One last glance around the house, then I left.
Waiting for me outside, under the darkened sky, stood the shadow cloaked figure. I approached, the sack swinging in my hand, dripping blood.
I asked:
"You caught the boy, didn't you? Before he slipped away?"
His voice was flat, devoid of feeling.
"Yes."
With twisted glee, I said:
"And where is he now? I want to place his little head beside his mother's."
I slowly opened the sack, revealing its contents. Her head dangled within, hair matted in blood, eyes half open.
The figure stared at it and said:
"It seems you've assimilate the Authority of Madness even deeper."
A rasping laugh tore from me.
"Oh, yes… it's all clear now. Clearer than ever. Life has no meaning. Nothing has value. In the end… everyone dies."
A dark aura erupted from my body, seeping into the village streets, spreading through the fields. Doors creaked open. One by one, the villagers stepped out, faces pale, eyes hollow. Then they began butchering each other savagely.
In minutes, the village was a graveyard. I stood motionless, watching. The shadowed figure at my side did not move either.
At last, in a deep voice, he said:
"I have dealt with the boy."
***
[Jevan perspective]
It's been three months since I woke up in this world. Three months but they felt like years. In that time, I've survived a burning warehouse (don't ask how I got out alive), run errands for a gang called the Blood Fang (welcoming name, I know), and now? I'm working side by side with an investigator from the Bureau, hunting a fugitive.
Lovely start to a failed protagonist's tale, right?
Over these months, I've been trying to figure out this bizarre ability of mine what I later learned is called an Authority. Everyone else got useful ones. Someone can bend water. Another can smash walls with a punch. Someone else can conjure fire.
Me? Wish granting.
Yeah. I grant wishes. Don't clap yet. The kind of wishes I can grant? Finding someone's lost cat. And the insult to injury? I can't even grant wishes for myself.
Believe me, I tried over and over. Every time, I ended up face down on the floor, unconscious.
Garod the bald drunk who drinks more than he speaks, and technically my "boss" in the gang told me my Authority could grow stronger the more wishes I fulfilled. Nice, right? Wrong. The stronger it gets, the harsher the price. A simple use might not just knock me out it could kill me outright. His words. Congratulations, Jephan. Worst Authority in history, by a landslide.
The only thing I can actually rely on? My abnormal healing speed. And even that, while it's saved my life, feels like a cruel consolation prize.
So yeah official winner of "Most Useless Power" goes to yours truly. But still, I'm not complaining. Without this rapid healing, I'd have been dead already.
I sighed, hands stuffed in my pockets, walking alongside Iris as we headed toward the house where she'd hidden the three kids Raven and I rescued from that warehouse.
And no, I wasn't looking forward to it. The blond brat never shuts up with his questions. But that wasn't the only reason. The truth is, those kids were once property. Goods owned by the Overseers gang. And I hate hate seeing people treated as merchandise. Though down here in the Lower Quarter, it's just another Tuesday.
But lucky for me, the Guardians. The gang that ran half the district and sold people like bread they vanished overnight. A week ago. No one knows how. Or why. Or who did it.
Do I care? Not at all. Let them rot. For me, it means one thing: no one hunting me. No bounty on my head. No assassins coming to carve out my organs.
In short? A good day. Relatively speaking.
…
Iris stopped in front of an old house at the edge of the street and knocked. A frail woman in her early sixties opened, her wrinkled face gentle and kind. She greeted us warmly and said:
"Welcome. Please, come in."
We stepped inside. The air smelled of herbal tea and aged wood. Before I could take another step, a small blond boy darted at me, healthier than last time I'd seen him.
"Uncle Jevan! Miss Iris!" he cried with unfiltered excitement.
Uncle? Wait how the hell did he know my name? I don't remember ever giving it. Forcing a smile, I said:
"Oh hey there. How are you, brat?"
"I'm fine! But why didn't you visit me?"
"I was busy with some jobs."
"I knew you'd come back."
"Can you take me to the black haired boy?"
"You mean Darius? Yeah, he's inside." The boy tugged at my hand, dragging me along.
We passed a narrow hallway until we reached a small back room. Inside sat Darius, black hair falling over his eyes, a book in his hands. He lowered it the moment he saw me, set it aside, and said quietly:
"Mr Jevan."
I stood before him, not in the mood for pleasantries. I went straight to the point.
"I found your mother."