I tucked my body lower and pumped my legs harder and harder until they cramped—but I pushed through the pain, slashing up and twisting to the side as tails crashed down on . My blade carved through them until they hit bone.
They vanished into my inventory with a ntal tug, and I stepped forward, trying to maintain montum.
With a running leap, I vaulted over a tail angling for and twisted through two descending whips, arriving in front of the monster's face. I looked deep into its six, blood-red eyes—and they bored into , brimming with pure malice.
My blades flashed into my open palms as I surged forward, cranking Overdrive as I stabbed—blades vibrating with Cursed Energy.
The fox's jaw snapped open, and it roared.
The air burst apart. The world scread. A wall of pressure and cursed energy slamd into .
I crossed my hands imdiately.
Inverse buckled—spiderweb cracks erupted from my feet as the technique began to rattle. Step by step, I was pushed back, but I endured.
Inverse had seen through grenade explosions and sniper bullets. It could stand a wave of energy.
And it did. Until it didn't.
My blade shattered, the weakest link of my technique faltering--my new extension cloak. Fragnts of tal pinged off , rolling off Inverse just as the Fox's technique redoubled.
Inverse folded with an inaudible crack, and the backlash sent lacerations and bruises running up and down my body. The air pressure hit a second later, ripping off my feet and hurling hundreds of feet backward.
I skipped over desert sand—each new bump, a fresh bruise.
I blacked out mid-air and woke up with the final impact—most of my body broken, my skin peeled raw, and a headache so intense it hurt to blink.
Yet, I had to think. Move. Fight.
The ground shook rhythmically, and behind , I could feel a great figure approaching. The Fox lood, ready to finish the job.
I gasped, wet and raw, and with a shaky psyche, tried to smash two streams of positive energy together.
It slipped away from —the quantities not quite right.
"Damn it!" I spat blood.
Again, I tried. It fractured.
Son of a---
I didn't try a third ti.
I turned to my Innate Technique instead.
Inverse sheathed just before sothing slamd into .
The weight of it felt like what I imagined a bus crashing into Inverse would feel like, but my technique, to my utter fucking delight, didn't shatter this ti.
It held strong, though I was still swept backwards several feet.
Inverse Lv 5.
I breathed a small sigh of relief—but I wasn't out of the woods yet, far from it.
Inverse and RCT couldn't be active at the sa ti. I just wasn't there yet.
Which ant I had to stop one to do the other, and waiting it out wasn't an option either.
With a rattling breath, I pushed off the dirt with one hand and looked behind .
The Cursed Spirit was still there, its Cursed Energy slightly deminished, but a potent threat nonetheless. Its nine tails swayed in the wind, eyes still locked on .
I expected it to move, attack, even talk?
But it just stood there. Waiting.
"They said you'd be good," a voice said. It belonged to a woman, stepping into view from between the Fox's legs.
She wore a plain shirt, a short flowy skirt, boots, and knee-high socks. She had a pendant around her neck and her hair done up in a bun.
"They're not exactly wrong. Your technique is like nothing I've ever seen."
She had a thick British accent, and the Curse Energy pouring off her made Shelim seem like an amateur. It felt endless.
I swallowed.
I couldn't take her in a straight fight, but I wasn't about to surrender either. I lowered Inverse so that I could fully focus on Reversed Curse Technique. It was risky leaving myself open like this, but it was the only way I could heal myself.
And it worked.
Negative and negative energy smashed into each other, creating overwhelming positive energy that I funneled into my brain and throat first, then the rest of .
My energy drained like a sieve.
"Kathy is Grade 1. Very few sorcerers can withstand her attacks."
"You're the girl that shackled Black Mask, aren't you?"
"And you're the wanker who killed him. It took us months to find a replacent."
"What's your technique called?" she asked.
"I'll tell you mine if you tell yours."
She smirked. "Curse Creation. Lets create beasties out of Curse Energy. The more ti I spend working on a beasty, the stronger they turn out. Kathy here took two months."
"I don't suppose you'll tell how to kill her?" I coughed out.
She smiled. "I told you mine. It's your turn."
"Inverse. It's conceptual. It operates on extres. It either makes so solid I can shrug off most attacks—or it lets make objects so faint, they vanish from reality." Obviously, I lied. Inverse strength lay in its mystery; I wasn't going to give up my only advantage to gain the boost in energy output, revealing my own hand would've brought. That particular binding vow was reserved for people with powerful techniques with no obvious weaknesses.
"I'm guessing only you can call them back."
"You're a quick study," I said.
"I'm really not," she said, "and given your conversation with our friend in Blüdhaven, you can guess why I'm here."
"You want in the fold," I grunted, spinning around to look at her while conveniently hiding my free hand—and speed-dialing Artemis.
I didn't hold out much hope that the Justice League would show up in the nick of ti, but I wouldn't let pride stop from exploring every option.
While the League was Plan B, Plan A was to heal and fight again—this ti with Venom and a few binding vows.
"You can understand why I'd be reluctant, seeing as your little murder coven killed my dad."
She raised a brow. "You know about that? Did Shelim talk?"
"My father wasn't a complete deadbeat after all. He mailed a book. Taught a lot. Showed the truth about the woman you call Artisan. He made her what she was—and she killed him for it."
"Your father was a coward," she said sharply. "He sat back and watched when he could've taken action. Changed the world. Healed millions. Birthed a utopia. But he let his heart rule him. He was afraid to break a few eggs."
I blinked. "By eggs you an human subjects. You do realize how insane you sound?"
"Don't play coy with ," she said. "I've looked into you. I've seen your work. Black Mask. The faceless n you've put down on your little quest to escape us. You're not as outraged as you pretend to be. You also think so of them are worthless."
"Worthless, no. Evil, yes. There's no justifying experinting on children—no matter how many tis you turn it over in your head." I fixed her with an intractable glare. "You're evil. Own it. It's an insult to pretend otherwise."
"Things are that simplistic in your world, aren't they?"
She looked at with pity and tilted her head.
"How do you think birth control was invented? Cancer dication? dicine for any major human malady?
Experintation. Sacrifice. This planet has been on a knife's edge for centuries. We're lucky a tahuman or alien hasn't conquered us yet. Everybody should be special. Or no one should be. That is what we fight for.
That is why you should join us."
Her expression softened. It was tender, almost gentle, and she reached out, open-pald.
"No one has to suffer the way your friend did."
I'd expected a supervillain monologue. So bullshit way to handwave the destruction they planned to wreak. But I never expected it to make so modicum of sense.
What I'd seen in the vision with the Artisan was the plan laid raw—from my dead father's perspective.
Wanton destruction. Chaos. A desire to tear down the old system so that humanity could evolve.
Grow stronger. Gain the strength to stand up to their tahuman counterparts and the universe at large.
The problem with it?
It was horribly inefficient—and would co at the cost of most of Earth's population. Most cities wouldn't survive the ergence of multiple Special Grade Curses and sorcerers.
And while the little hero-villain balance we had now was held together by duct tape and unspoken threats from Superman and the other heavy hitters in the League, it wasn't broken either.
The good guys were just holding back—because of so warped sense of morality. And that's going to be the end of us.
The good guys didn't have the answers, but neither did she.
Read ahead on Patreon/artandcreativewriting.
User Comments
0 comments from readers