Dimensions Collide: Destiny Bond Chapter 6: Soul Siphon

Chapter 6: Soul Siphon

The light was so bright that it physically hurt John’s eyes. He tried to lift his hand to shield himself, but there was no response. In fact, he couldn't move anything. He was frozen, immobile as a statue.

“What the-”

He tried to look down, only to find that he couldn’t do that, either. He couldn’t do anything, not even close his eyes, which really would’ve helped. Now, he just had to endure the pain. Thankfully, the light eventually died on its own, but he never would’ve expected the sight that greeted him.

Zero, who was being pulled out of his body, grunted as a sort of black tendril pulled at his wrist. John traced the thing to— Prota? What was going on? Everything else seed to be frozen, too, which was good. It would give him ti to think. Aiden wouldn’t be a threat for now. That was good. Upon further observation, though, they weren’t frozen. Everything was just moving very, very slowly.

Suddenly, John noticed sothing. He wasn’t the only one who could see what was going on. Although her face didn’t show it, Prota was clearly terrified, but her terror was slowly being replaced by confusion as whatever she had expected to happen was clearly not happening. In fact, she was moving better than he was.

“I- huh…?” she muttered softly, staring with trembling eyes at the tendril coming from inside her chest.

“What the hell…” John grumbled. “Zero! What’s going on?”

“This gooey shit won’t let go!” Zero yelled, pulling back.

Evidently, he hadn’t been affected by whatever ti manipulation was going on. He continued to fight back, but to no avail. He regained so ground, but another tendril shot out blindly and grabbed his scarf.

“Hey! What the fuck?” Zero yelled angrily, making an attempt to get it back, but it was pointless.

Yet another tendril erged, restraining his arms as the scarf flew into Prota’s body. Its arrival was announced with yet another bright flash. The tendrils, clearly encouraged, began pulling even harder.

“Uh… John? A little help?” Zero grunted.

“What the hell do you want to do?” John said.

He was still incapable of moving, but it wasn’t like he needed to open his mouth to talk to his clone.

“I can yell at them or sothing. Is that useful? Is that what you want? I can call them an nas, maybe they’ll get so offended that they’ll leave us alone. Thoughts?” he continued, his anger overcoming his confusion.

Zero just stared at John. “Are you stupid? Are you slow? Maybe a bit of both?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to an?”

“Let’s start from the source! Do you want to calm Prota down or not?”

“What do you an, calm her down?” John yelled back. “How does that help?”

“What do you think, dipshit? Those tendrils are part of her! Let’s do sothing about it!” Zero growled. “Hurry up, dumbass!”

Prota watched, confused, as she watched two Johns yell back and forth at each other. What was going on? Why was one John monotone in colour? Why were they yelling at each other like this? What were these tendril-like things coming out of her?

What in the world?

She’d expected John to die after touching her. After all, that was what had happened to everyone else. They’d touch her, or she’d accidentally touch them, there’d be a flash of light, and when she could see again, they’d be dead. Technically, every single accusation of murder against her was true. She’d killed. It wasn’t under her control, and she’d never ant to harm anyone, but she was, by definition, a killer.

She blad herself for every life she’d taken. It didn’t matter that her powers weren’t her fault. All she knew was that she was at fault, and that maybe, just maybe, the rumours of her being a demon were true.

So when she’d backed off from John, it wasn’t because she was afraid of him. She was afraid for him. She was afraid of killing him, of taking yet another life. She was afraid of removing the only source of light in her dark world. And when he’d pushed her away, she’d been terrified that she’d done just that.

So why wasn’t he dead?

“Prota,” she heard. “Hey. Hey. Prota. Listen to .”

John’s voice was coming out of his mouth, but his lips weren’t moving.

“Hey. Calm down.”

She stared at him, still scared, but confusion was slowly creeping in as well.

“Yeah, just great, John,” he muttered. “That’s real helpful. ‘Calm down.’ Yeah, good one, buddy.”

John’s words weren’t exactly the most useful, but they seed to have a positive effect. His actions were so bizarre that Prota had to temporarily stop panicking in order to process what he was saying.

With that, Prota was back on track. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she was sowhat in control. She wasn’t just flailing about. Her emotions. Her thoughts. She tried to block them out, to keep them away. She was pretty good at it, after all. A year of suffering on the streets had taught her well. The ti she’d spent with John had allowed her to open up a bit more, but ironically enough, the skill they were trying to get rid of was needed once again.

“Zero? Any progress?” she heard John say.

“Uh… well, they’re not stopping, no, but I don’t think they’re pulling any harder than before,” she heard John reply.

The voices were identical, but when she opened her eyes, she found that it was the monochro John who had spoken. So that was Zero. There were minor differences between their tones and mannerisms, but they were so incredibly similar that it was nearly impossible to tell them apart.

“Prota, do you think you can ask those things to stop? Maybe if you just ask kindly, they’ll let go.”

Prota shook her head. She didn’t even know what they were. How was she supposed to stop them? Had she not been so scared, she would’ve realized what a stupid suggestion that was. Well, it wasn’t like John was trying to be the image of helpfulness.

“John! Just calm her down! Stop being a dumbass and walk her through it!”

“How the hell do I walk her through it when I don’t know what it is?”

“God, you’re so useless,” Zero grumbled. “Prota! Close your eyes and focus. It’s gonna be hard, but just do your best, ok? There’s a little black orb inside of you. The tendrils are coming out of that. They’re part of you. Just like your arms or your legs, they’re part of you. You can control them. Picture it. You can do it.”

Prota closed her eyes. She was trying to listen, but it was hard to trust soone who wasn’t John. Well, this strange copy seed to sound just like him. That helped. All she had to do was close her eyes.

Limbs. The tendrils were just like her limbs. She could control them. Take a deep breath. Focus. Relax.

It was taking everything she had to take control, but she was doing it. Slowly but surely, they were pulling back, calming down and loosening themselves, like they were aware that the thing they were attacking was not an enemy.

“It’s ok. I’m safe. I’m safe.”

The tendrils shook slightly as if questioning her statent, but they gradually fell back as she tried to calm herself. Soon, they had released their grip on Zero, who was rubbing his wrists.

“Hm. Well, that’s new. I sure do hope that doesn’t happen again,” Zero shrugged. Now that the situation was over, he was rather calm about the whole thing. He even seed to be enjoying himself. “Well, have fun, John!”

“Have fun?” John quickly rembered the situation he’d been in before. “Hey! You son of a-”

John didn’t get to finish his sentence. Ti resud, and Aiden’s knife plunged right into John’s shoulder.

~~~

In Aiden’s eyes, the only thing that had happened was the flash of light. It wasn’t nearly enough to stop him, but he was montarily blinded. There was a sense of satisfaction as he felt his knife plunge into flesh, and when his vision recovered, he saw that John’s shoulder was bleeding profusely.

“You can’t use your weapon anymore,” he said, a hint of satisfaction slipping into his voice.

“Like hell I can’t-” John started, but as he raised his arm, it protested, refusing to go up.

A pain similar to a burning hot iron pressing into him shot through his body, causing him to collapse. He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he montarily blacked out. The pain. It was unbearable. It hurt so much. His vision began to white out, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to push through. The distant sound of Prota’s whimpers snapped him back to reality. He couldn’t afford to have his vision impeded in a ti like this.

His right arm was beginning to feel cold and numb, probably from the blood loss. He didn’t know. He wasn’t a doctor. The pain was making it hard to think. He had to survive.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

There was no way to talk his way out of this. Kill or be killed. It would co to that. It would be hard, though. He tried to make a fist with his left hand, only for it to also flare up with pain. Shit. That cut from yesterday; he’d forgotten about it. Was it seriously going to be an issue now? Even if he still had his gun, he wouldn’t be able to fire it.

“Sorry, Prota,” John wheezed, gritting his teeth. “I got nothing.”

“You’re giving up? Just like that?” Aiden frowned, confused.

He hadn’t let his guard down. He was too professional for that, but he was nonetheless confused. This was a life-and-death situation. Soone like John shouldn’t give up that easily.

Well, it didn’t matter. If his target was giving up, that just made Aiden’s job all that much easier. There was no need to question it.

“Nothing personal,” Aiden said, raising his knife. “It’s just business.”

John coughed, still struggling on the floor. “You still can’t tell who hired you?”

Aiden considered the question. His target’s breathing was jagged, and the child beside him wasn’t going to be of any help.

“...fine. The Wynton family. I’m not a huge fan of them, but they paid well.”

“Kh… business, eh?” John’s body shook as he propped himself against the wall, trying to get up. “Yeah, that’s fair, I guess. Alright. That’s all I needed to know. Ti to lock in.”

“...huh?”

Aiden was confused. John was talking as if he had the upper hand, and yet he was helpless, unable to stand, legs shaking, arm bleeding out. What in the world was this man talking about?

“You’re not the [Protagonist]. That ans you’re just an [Extra]. A nobody. And I’d kill myself before losing to a stupid [Extra].”

There was really no reason for John to be this confident. His voice was getting stronger, yes, but he wasn’t even standing yet. What could the man possibly do?

“I don’t think you’re quite in the position to be saying that,” Aiden said slowly. “But then again, who am I to deny the ramblings of the delusional?”

He rushed forward, knives ready.

Aiden would’ve been surprised to find that John hadn’t been bluffing. His mind was foggy with pain, but his mind was running as fast as it possibly could, given the situation he was in. Eventually, it found a way through.

"A [Protagonist] grows in the face of an ergency."

"This is an ergency. Prota’s eyes were glowing. Glowing equals magic. An ability?"

"Damn. I hope I’m right."

Prota had probably taken sothing from John. What that was exactly, he wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain. She’d gained sothing. Glowing eyes, flashes of light, that surely ant so kind of power up. If his hypothesis were correct, then they would win it all right here.

Well, even if he was wrong, it was no big deal.

“Prota!” he yelled, using his remaining energy to push himself off the wall, throwing himself directly at her.

There was one more flash of light as a light began to surround Prota, and he managed to nudge her in Aiden’s direction just in ti. A giant beam of energy poured out her her, obliterating the assassin and blowing a giant wall through the back of the bar. He’d have to fix that, but right now, he didn’t care.

They were alive.

“Fuck,” John panted, letting his head rest on the floor.

He wanted to sleep. His body was getting cold, but he couldn’t pass out yet. He still had things to do. For one, he grabbed his gun and shoved it into his hoodie, where it’d be out of sight.

“Need a bandage,” he grunted, wrapping his scarf around the cut and tying it off tight to stop the bleeding.

Blood soaked through, but it would be enough for now. He could even cope a little by pretending there wasn’t any bleeding. It was just the colour of the scarf.

It wasn’t working. Lying wouldn’t change the fact that he was bleeding out.

The wound partially taken care of, John forced himself to get up. Sothing else was bothering him.

“Prota. Is that why you were so scared of touching people? You were scared of taking their souls? I an, I’d get it. That’s pretty fucked up.”

Prota was trembling, but she was able to show her confusion just a little bit. Take their souls? What did that an?

“...you don’t know what your own ability does?”

As he thought about how to proceed, things connected in his mind.

She’d likely been labelled as a demon girl after accidentally killing a bunch of people. The rumours must’ve been true. The reason she’d been so comfortable with talking about killing people was that she’d done it herself. She was familiar with it but actively hated it, which explained why she avoided touching him. It explained her lack of emotion and her blank face.

It was a defence chanism.

Killing people was never without consequence; the brain has a sort of punishnt system for intentionally killing another person. It wasn’t as if Prota had a choice, but her mind would punish her with nightmares all the sa, especially considering her young age.

John might’ve been entirely wrong. Everyone’s story was slightly different, and while many of them were similar, it was entirely possible that he’d guessed Prota’s story wrong. However, many things just made too much sense for his guess to be off. Soday, he’d ask her about her past. Then, he’d figure out why she was the way she was, but now, probably wasn’t that day.

John looked down at the girl in front of him, who, as always, had a blank look on her face. This ti, though, he could feel the fear behind those eyes of hers. Unfortunately, he was too delirious to do anything about it.

“Co on, Prota,” he grunted. “I’m gonna go… uh… I…”

She stared in horror as he wobbled around, his eyelids closing as he fell unconscious, falling to the floor in a heap.

~~~

About an hour later, he was shaken awake.

“Sir. Are you alive? Sir?”

John frowned as he slowly opened his eyes, wincing as reality ca rushing back in. His body scread at him in pain, especially his shoulder, which was throbbing like crazy. He tried to ignore it, forcing himself to get up. As his vision returned, he saw a couple of guards milling around the area.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alive,” John wheezed out, his throat parched.

The man who’d shaken him gave him a glass of water, and John didn’t think twice before downing the entire cup. He coughed twice, then sat up. His vision swam as his head felt light, which was to be expected, but he managed to stay conscious.

“Who’re you?”

“City guard. Do you need a healer?”

“What does it look like?”

The man called over soone in priest’s robes, who began chanting as a green light lit up the room. An intense soothing aura washed through John’s body, much of the pain fading away. He shuddered from the sudden, imnse relief.

“Sorry. Light healing is all I can do,” the healer apologized. “You should be alright after this. Please feel free to visit the hospital if you require further assistance.”

“Yeah, thanks,” John muttered as he felt the wound in his shoulder closing. “So, what’s with all the fuss?”

“Is your mory alright, sir? It appears that there was quite the scuffle here. Do you rember anything?”

John hesitated. Right, it was obvious there’d be an investigation. Aiden’s attack probably wouldn’t have attracted any attention on its own, but Prota’s final attack would’ve definitely attracted at least a few bystanders. With that in mind, he began to speak, leaving out quite a few details. The story boiled down to sothing like:

“There was an assassin. He tried to kill . He almost did. I fought back. He ran away and left that giant hole in the wall.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“Do you think I had ti to chat?” John grumbled. “Look, it all happened way too fast. I really don’t have anything to tell you guys.”

“Sir, if you’re hiding anything-”

“I’m the one who almost died,” John said, frowning. He was giving his best “get a load of this guy” look. “Do you think I’d withhold any information about the guy that nearly killed ?”

“Very well,” the guard nodded. “We’ll do our best to look into this.”

The guards left, seemingly done with whatever they’d been doing. John grunted as he got up, heading upstairs. He found Prota hiding under the bed.

“It’s all good,” he said. “Co out. We need to talk. Again. Seriously, if this is gonna keep happening…”

She slowly crawled out, looking around as if soone would pop out of the closet or washroom.

“To think this started with shopping for clothes,” John muttered, throwing his scarf and hoodie into the garbage.

He pulled so bandages out from his closet and wrapped them around the closing stab wound, then sighed. There was a lot to do. He’d wanted things to start moving along, but they were moving too quickly for his liking.

Well, life wasn’t always fair.

“Zero, get your ass out here. She’s seen you once; she can see you again.”

Prota watched in amazent as the monochro version of John appeared, floating in the air like a ghost. He gave a little smile and a wave.

“Hi there, Prota. It’s our second ti eting, isn’t it?”

Other than the colours, he looked almost exactly like John. He wore a hoodie and would have had a scarf were it not for the previous incident. The hue of grey that coloured his shirt looked like it could’ve been red, and the pants and shoes looked to be of the sa strange material.

Prota couldn’t do much other than nod. She looked worriedly at John’s shoulder.

“Oh, this?” John snorted. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had a lot worse happen to . Besides, I got a little bit of light healing. I’ll recover.”

John ant it as a reassuring remark, but it just made Prota even more nervous. What sort of situations was a bartender getting into that he was used to this?

“Let’s talk about your ability, ok?” John said.

He wasn’t beating around the bush. No easing into it, no preparation, just ripping off the bandage and going straight into the heart of the matter. Prota looked away. She didn’t feel comfortable talking about this.

“Look. You don’t like it, but honestly, I don’t think that matters. To put it bluntly, I also kind of don’t care. This is sothing we need to take care of, ok?”

“How did you know?” Prota said in a quiet voice.

“...huh? How did I know what?”

“The beam. How did you know?”

John leaned back in his chair.

“...I guessed?”

Prota stared at him. Seriously? He’d risked their lives over a guess? No, he had to be joking, right?

“What? It was an educated guess. Also, I enjoy gambling. Co on, just let explain.” He pointed to Zero, who waved again. “Let formally introduce you to Zero. This is Zero. Say hi, Zero.”

“Hi, Zero.”

“That’s not funny, and you know it.”

“But it makes you annoyed. It’s worth it.”

Prota watched in confusion as the two bickered for a bit, but it was so strange that it almost had a calming effect.

“Anyways,” John said, holding his head in his hands. “This is Zero. He’s my [Soul].”

“...soul?”

“Yeah. He’s, uh, he’s . Literally.”

Prota cocked her head to the side. What? She didn’t understand. There were two of John?

“He’s uh… he’s a little unique. There aren’t any other [Souls] like him. In the first place, [Souls] aren’t ant to be sentient or different from their bodies, and, uh… well, I’m getting into a little too much detail. All you need to know is that [Souls] aren’t sothing you should be worrying about, ok? All you need to know is that he’s . With a few differences.”

Prota still didn’t entirely get it, but what could she do about it? She didn’t think asking questions would help.

“Do you believe in fate, Prota?” John said, suddenly changing the subject. It was an odd question, but she shook her head. “I don’t, either. Not ‘fate,’ at least. Well- actually, this is a talk for another ti. I’m getting off track.”

He shook his head and continued.

“Look, the point is, Zero is my [Soul]. And, uh, also my soul.”

There was sothing about the way he said that. The way he said the word “soul.” He said it like there was a difference between the two.

“Ok, let just- seriously, I keep getting off track. The point is, Zero is my soul, and you pulled him out. We got lucky, considering he’s conscious, but do you understand what this ans?”

Prota tilted her head in confusion. What was the point of all this? What was he trying to say?

“Prota. You can take people’s souls.”

Prota stared. She didn’t like where this was going.

“Look, souls are usually a big source of energy. I don’t know what the specifics of souls are in this world, but I can guess, and I can guess that they act similar here. When you take a soul, you’re taking in a huge amount of energy. And where does that energy go? It’s gotta go sowhere, right? Pair that with your glowing hair and eyes, and, well, like I said. I guessed.”

Prota stared at John. He’d done sothing as reckless as that based on a guess? She didn’t even follow his logic. To her, he was just… spewing nonsense.

“Hey. It worked, ok? No point in thinking about it.”

He took in a deep breath and went on.

“Prota. I don’t know what you’ve been through or who you are. I’d like to know at so point, but that can wait. Ok?”

Prota cald down. He hadn’t called her a demon. If John was correct, wasn’t this a demonic kind of magic? The ability to take souls. The ability to kill with just a touch. Was she really a demon? If so, why hadn’t John killed her? She’d expected him to chase her away, hit her, beat her, whatever, but no, he was talking with her as if discussing picnic plans for next week.

It was clear. He didn’t care about any of that. He wasn’t repulsed by her. She wasn’t anything other than herself. Not a demon. Not a monster.

All he saw was Prota.

John stood up and stretched, oblivious to her fears.

“So. Let’s work on that ability of yours.”