August Intruder- Chapter 197- Our Eyes Should Meet

Ninra ran down her school’s hallway. Her footsteps echoed as she ran. Her flip flops slapped against the cold tile floor. She struggled, adjusting her night wear around her, tying it in place with the small rope.

Uncle Dorthna had sent her a simple text.

I’ll be there soon, it read.

But she didn’t want him to be here soon. She’d seen the news on the internet. Portals appearing randomly. Most terrifying of it was that it was appearing in residential areas. On the road. In houses. In schools.

It was doing the possible, spawning among people.

The death toll was going to be large, very large. Everyone had been unbothered by the portal since forever because they never had to worry about being saved. As long as the Delvers came in time to deal with the issues, they were safe.

Then, even if the Delvers failed. It would still be a while before the monsters from the Chaos Run got to you. But this? This was different.

The very appearance of a portal was in and of itself a life risk. People died from appearing in front of portals. Yes there were always fools who thought that they were special, unique—people who thought that they would be the ones to inherit temporary classes from being close to one.

There was a name for those people.

Fools.

A student ran past her. She reached out and grabbed him by the arm. This was the girl’s hostel. Boys were not allowed.

The boy spun at her grip and she looked into his eyes. There was urgency there, panic.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

The panic stained his voice. “Portals,” he rambled. “Portals in the biology lab.”

“Portals? With an S?”

“Three, facing each other.” His eyes darted about, searching frantically. “Do you know Jane?”

Ninra nodded.

His eyes continued to chase around, seeking, searching. “What room?”

A boyfriend seeking the safety of his girlfriend. It was too romantic for her to ignore. But with it came the slight sting of loneliness, of being single. It hadn’t been so long since she remembered her boyfriend had been lying to her about his Gifted status for so long.

“Down the hall.” She pointed. “Take your left. Fifth room on the right?”

“Do you know if she’s there?”

Sadly, she did not. She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

The boy released himself from her hold and charged down the hall like an animal chasing something down. His desperation was in his steps.

Turning her attention back to the path she had been taking, she continued moving. That her boyfriend had lied to her did not mean that every man was a monster. And if she could not find love, she hoped that others could.

The world was not safe today. Nowhere was safe if three portals could appear inside one confined space. It was the reason she had sent Uncle Dorthna the response she had given him.

Go to Mel and Ark.

They needed to be protected. Gifted or not, they were not yet experienced and powerful enough to protect themselves.

She could take care of herself.

As she trudged down the stairs, she was exposed to the real chaos of what was happening. Sounds filled the air. Footsteps. Cries. Calls for help. Some people had their phones on, talking to it as they streamed, showing the world the chaos of what was happening.

Ninra understood the necessity of such actions. It gave the world outside a real time experience of what was happening, uncensored. But how low was the sense of survival for such people that they did it so freely.

Then there were those who did it for nothing but clout. The attention. The fame. They disgusted her. Growing up, her mom had always said that it was a horrible word to use. But Ninra used it. She knew the things that disgusted her, drawn out lies and stupidity.

Someone slammed into her and she twirled away from the person, catching herself with her hands on the edge of the wall before she could fall.

There was no apology offered, and she did not hold it against them. When you were running for your life from an enemy you could not do anything about and could not stop from killing you, courtesy went out the window. It was just how—

The air whooshed. The wind picked up.

It was impossible, not inside the hallway. But such was the way of the portals now. Dread it. Run from it…

She turned…

… It would find you all the same.

A portal burst into life at the other end of the hallway. Appearing right on top of a boy she did not recognize. Four people dropped right there.

One scattered into countless frogs that hopped away. A girl in heels turned into a shotgun. Another girl turned into a mannequin, wearing her clothes as if on display. The fourth turned into an anthill.

Bile rose in Ninra’s stomach and she turned away from the sight as a boy stumbled straight into the tower and was swallowed by it.

There were those like her who were too far away to be affected. They came to screeching halts. Some of them were not safe. In the chaos of fleeing, the sudden need to stop was worse. People bumped into each other, sending some in front stumbling into the effect of the portal.

Lives were lost without the horrors of death, only the horrors of unbecoming. She could only imagine the pain of their loved ones.

Or the horror of those who had bumped into them to cause it. To cause the end of another human life could do things to a person, especially those who did not intend it.

Ninra’s stomach roiled, threatened to reject its contents. She refused it, willed her nausea to silence. Still, she could taste her own vomit. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she hurried down the hallway.

Like some of the people here, she had a destination.

She had no lectures and no work today so she had slept in. Her roommate on the other hand had gone for classes. Her best friend. She needed to protect her. To keep her safe.

Her feet came to a screeching halt as she came to a junction. Faced with two paths, she tried to recall which one led to her friend’s class.

What if she found her friend under the effect of a portal? What if her friend was already safe and what she was doing right now was just risking her own life?

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed her again. Her mother and father were safe. Melmarc and Ark were safe. They were Gifted. The appearance of a portal would not harm them, only the chaos of panic could.

Melmarc didn’t panic, not really, and Ark reveled in chaos. They would be fine until Uncle Dorthna found them. It would, after all, be a while before portals became Chaos Runs.

So, there was no need to call them. Besides, she had spoken to their mom not too long ago. She attributed a lack of a phone call from Ark and Mel to mean their mother had spoken to them too.

She didn’t feel bad about it. It was selfish to want others to think about you during a chaos even if you thought about them. All that should be on your mind if you loved someone was their safety, not them being bothered about yours during a time like this.

The phone was still ringing when Ninra made up her mind. In the chaos of the hallways, people running rampantly, she took the left. Three steps running into it, someone cried out in horror in the opposite hallway. The cry was followed by the rushing of wind—the appearance of a portal.

Ninra’s heart tightened. She did not look back. She did not want to see it.

She ran forward.

…

The impact threw Balusad back. But he did not fly as he had done before. He had been prepared for it this time. And Ark had taken the blow of the swinging glaive with raised hands.

It had bitten into his flesh until it hit bone. He had cried out in pain, then his mind had done something. It had stolen the pain from him, hidden it. It was now a phantom in his chest. How it happened was beyond him, but he did not think on it.

He still had an enemy in front of him, a being that did not know its place.

“You fight for nothing,” Balusad said. “They will not respect you. They will not praise you.”

Melmarc did not care. All he cared about was the disrespect.

“Then let us end this,” he said, meaning it.

Balusad cocked his head to the side. “End it?”

There was something off. Melmarc couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was trying to talk him out of the fight. Why?

Because potatoes taste best when dipped in the blood of the disrespectful.

He ignored the thought, watched carefully.

There.

It was slight, and Melmarc did his best not to squint at it out of habit. Hidden within Balusad’s beards was a crack. Melmarc was damaging him.

This was good.

“Yes,” he said, responding to the Oath. “Let us end this.”

Everyone watched, wondering.

Could they hear them?

They definitely could not hear Melmarc. But maybe the Oath. It was possible. Delvers had spoken of boss monsters speaking to them before, so it was not out of place.

If they could hear him, then they would know that the Oath wanted to negotiate.

Melmarc cast his gaze to them. They looked patient, even if worried. Famon looked like he was waiting for a chance to do something, to attack.

Balusad’s hand moved to his beard. The act of concealment was disguised as a stroke of his beard. He was not fooling Melmarc. The cracked skin had fallen off and he had moved to catch it, perhaps put it in place before everyone else saw it.

Was it a strategy? Keeping his enemy from seeing his weakness? Or was it shame? Did he refuse to appear weak in front of those he deemed lesser than him?

Did he deem Melmarc lesser than himself?

The effrontery. The audacity.

The balls on this one.

He chuckled at the out of place comment in his mind. “Yes,” he muttered with a smile. “The balls on this one.”

His words seemed to take Balusad aback. Still, the Oath composed himself easily. “What,” he asked, “is required to end this? What do I do to make you stay away. This is not your fight. I have no quarrel with you.”

“Shit,” Famon muttered under his breath, but Melmarc heard it. “It’s trying to negotiate.”

Flenki looked from him to Melmarc. “The Unkati won’t take it, right? Right? They fight to the end when they appear. They always have.”

Famon shook his head. Melmarc could feel his doubt as he could feel Flenki’s fear. They had doubts. Rightfully so. Even gods often had to prove their worth.

Melmarc looked at Balusad. “There is a way.”

“Ah, I see.” Balusad held his arms out to his side. “Name it.”

Melmarc held his hand to him, then pointed down. He spoke, and his voice was the weight of mountains.

“Kneel.”

Balusad charged forward once more. Melmarc let him. Waited for him. It was the place of the inferior to come to the superior. Still, he clad himself in [Wings of Steel] and supported himself with [Enraged Kin].

Balusad was halfway through the distance when Melmarc’s thoughts commanded him.

Disrespectful.

Kill him.

A skill he had not used in a long time, since returning to earth from the first portal, filled his mind. He never used it because it was dangerous to humans. He did not want to kill by accident.

He moved his hand and it activated.

[You have used skill Rings of Saturn]

[Remaining uses: ¾]

Before Balusad covered the rest of the distance, the ring of mana went flying. Eyes widening at the sight of it, he raised his hand, abandoning his poised attack with his glaive.

Melmarc saw the panic in his eyes.

[Title Slayer is in effect]

[Effect: +15% damage increase when facing any Sentient Being.]

[Effect: +15% damage increase when facing any Sentient Being.]

Black ichor gathered to his raised hand. He let the skill rage forward. It charged like a tidal wave, an ocean of blackness. The ring of mana cut through the wave. It looked like nothing could stop it but Melmarc could see its color waning.

[You have used skill Rings of Saturn]

Another ring appeared and he let it fly. Then another.

[Remaining uses: 1/4]

Ducking to the side, Balusad tried to evade. His sea of black ichor was gone, dispelled by the first ring of mana. He evaded the second one. His hand shot out, the black orb appearing in front of his hand. He swung it to the side, parrying the third ring as the second soared to dig a hole in the wall in the distance.

The black orb connected with the ring. It shattered at the side, but Balusad had expected it. The swinging motion sent the ring flying askew for only a moment.

“Purity?” he hissed at Melmarc. His eyes narrowed on him. “How much do you have? How much can you give?”

Something flashed in his eyes.

Melmarc saw it, knew it.

Desire. Hunger.

It overshadowed the fear that he had seen there once. Just how strong was pure mana that the knowledge of it could birth desire strong enough to usurp all that fear?

“I must have it!” Balusad swept forward, twirling with every motion so that his robes made him seem to glide along the ground.

He swept his glaive forward. Blackness roared. Melmarc stepped to the side, moved his hand, and swung it forward.

[You have used skill Rings of Saturn]

[Remaining uses: 0/4]

The ring shot forward, thrown for blunt damage and not slicing power. Balusad moved to dodge it. He lowered his shoulder, ducked to the side. He was fast, but not fast enough.

Melmarc saw it before it happened. The ring struck Balusad in the shoulder. The Oath howled something ferocious. Even the sound of his pain sounded hollow, as if it was pretending to be pain.

Balusad hit the ground, crashing into it. He bounced off it, stumbling forward, rolling. Melmarc watched his body approach.

Dissonant.

His eyes sharpened.

Lie.

He paused. That was a first.

Lying was not something his mind ever suggested. Why? Because it was dissonant. He reached with his hand, moved it and froze.

[Remaining uses: 0/4]

[Rings of Saturn] was finished.

Everything exploded into motion the moment he looked at his hand. Balusad’s bouncing came to an abrupt halt and he leapt forward, off hand held out with a ball of black ichor in front of it.

He had a manic grin on his face. “Finished!” he screeched with glee, laughing maniacally. “No more purity. MINE!”

Melmarc raised his eyes to the man.  His hand came up to meet him and braced for impact. Mana roared out of him.

[You have used skill Knowledge is Power]

Melmarc gritted his teeth and took the blow.

His open hand slammed into the ball of black ichor and it bathed his entire hand in it. He felt his fingers slip into the space between Balusad’s. There was nothing but pain and destruction. Ruination.

I take, a thought slipped into his mind, his thought. And the pain disappeared, relegated to the corner. Still, the pain was somewhere. Something warm slid down his cheeks. He was crying, the pain ravaging through flesh muscle and bone. His face constricted in pain as he interlocked their fingers, pain and chaos roaring in his mind.

It is just pain, he reminded himself. No damage.

As if to reassure him, his interface popped up between him and Balusad.

[Skill Knowledge Is Power is in effect.]

[You cannot receive or inflict damage.]

Shock spread itself across Balusad’s face as Melmarc pinned his hand in place, black ichor drowning his entire forearm. He wasn’t sure if the Oath was shocked that he could hold him in place or if it was because the black ichor was not ruining him.

Melmarc strengthened the hold, bent his hand. It forced Balusad down. The Oath dropped to his knee and there was a warm sound of satisfaction in his mind.

Hmmm.

It as reveling in it. Melmarc reveled in it too.

The Oath looked up at him from its knee, then swung its glaive into him. Melmarc took the pain like a stone.

[Skill Knowledge Is Power is in effect.]

[You cannot receive or inflict damage.]

Balusad struck again.

[Skill Knowledge Is Power is in effect.]

[You cannot receive or inflict damage.]

Melmarc took it like a stone again.

Shock turned into horror. Melmarc grinned. He lowered his head to look into the creature’s eyes, to really look into it.

“There,” he said, his voice coming out maliciously. “On your knees.” He leaned closer. “This is where our eyes should meet.”

His eyes moved to the side, taking a moment to look away from the Oath. He could not be damaged, and he could not inflict damage.

But nobody said anything about his allies.

Famon was already leaping into the sky, wings ready. And Spakkow was already chanting.

“Sea and land, brown and ash, guide my aim and cheat my way.” Hope rested in his eyes, and he raised his staff and handin Famon’s direction.

The chant finished, the words carrying more weight than it had the first time, and he roared it in completion.

“[Enraged Kin]!”