Lavender exploded underfoot as Rosette surged forward, her heels carving crescent arcs through the golden-lit haze. Her crimson whipped like a comet's tail, and in her right hand, the spear of her own blood gleamed with murderous purpose.
Vera darted back, her frame flickering between dimensions, limbs flattening, arms distorting like painted brushstrokes, only to snap back into full form between bounds. It was agile, yes, but clumsy in the face of Rosette's precision.
Rosette didn't chase recklessly. She flowed. Each step calculated, each strike guided by intent. With a flick of her wrist, her spear unraveled mid-air into a blooming red lattice, like a thorned vine, and lanced out toward Vera.
Vera twisted, collapsing into a paper-thin silhouette just in time. The blood vine slammed into the soil, carving a three-foot groove, sending bees scattering in a frenzied cloud.
"Too close!" Vera hissed, popping upright again. Her eyes flicked wildly. "What the hell is this girl?"
Rosette only gave answers with more vicious attacks. She stepped once, and with a pulse, crimson threads bled from her palms again, this time forming four slender daggers. They rotated in orbit around her like silent moons.
Vera tried darting again, body folding mid-leap into a 2D flicker, but this time, Rosette anticipated it.
She clapped her hands. A wide arc of blood erupted from her back, forming a spiked wall just ahead of Vera's projected path. The flattened girl reappeared too late, stumbling mid-phase.
CLANG!
One of the spinning daggers sliced her thigh. Another grazed her rib.
Vera gasped, form stuttering as she crumpled sideways into the thistles. She hissed, clutching her side.
"This isn't worth it," she muttered, pain flaring hot. "She's insane…"
And then she ran.
Rosette didn't follow. She inhaled, slowly and calmly, the amount of blood she used was too much for such a weak target, but she had a plan. She waited a few seconds for her blood to get to a level balance within her again before she moved.
Vera crashed through a set of ornate double doors, breathing hard. Her dress was torn. Blood stained her hem.
The room she entered was grand and dim, velvet chairs, a dark chandelier, and a fireplace that burned without heat.
"Vincent?" she called out. "Vincent, I need to talk to you! That girl is–"
But the room was empty. No echo answered her. Instead it was a creaking door behind her that did.
She turned trembling at the sound.
Her eyes snapped toward the door. There, stepping through like a queen arriving late to a ball, stood Rosette.
Her expression was serene. Cold. Her braid lay still.
"I placed a single drop of blood," Rosette said quietly, "on your dress."
Vera's mouth parted. She stepped back in horror.
Rosette took a step forward.
"A dullard like you wouldn't have noticed it."
A spike of pain jolted through Vera's shoulder. She screamed. Rosette watched her scream as a blood red spike erupted from beneath her skin, bursting through muscle and cloth, nailing her to the polished marble floor.
"AAGH–!"
Her knees buckled, body pinned. The impact slammed her shoulder to the tile, and her mouth hung open in pain.
Rosette walked calmly. She raised her boot. And brought it down.
CRACK!
Vera's head slammed into the ground. The marble erupted and dented.
"You'll lead me to your boss," Rosette said cooly, "or the exit. Those are your choices."
Vera whimpered, breath shallow.
"I can feel your heartbeat," Rosette continued, voice like steel wrapped in silk. "I can feel the blood racing through your veins. And if you lie… I'll crush your heart with a thought."
The spike receded. Vera's body twitched in place. Blood gushed from her shoulder.
Rosette raised one hand, the blood spike morphing into a collar and leash. She fastened it around Vera's neck, the end coiling into her palm like a red serpent.
"Stand," she ordered.
Vera's legs trembled. She stood slowly, a broken marionette, eyes wide with humiliation and dread.
She took one shuffling step.
And then–
BANG!
A deafening crack echoed through the room.
Vera staggered. Her face twisted. Her hands reached up to her chest.
Blood sprayed.
A bullet hole bloomed in her heart.
Rosette's eyes snapped wide.
"No–"
Vera collapsed forward, her leash going slack. Her eyes wide. Empty.
Rosette dropped to her knees, catching her, but the blood was pouring too fast.
She pressed her palms to the wound.
It was pointless. The bullet had gone straight through.
She looked up,
And there it was. One hotel staff member. White uniform, dead eyes. No scent. No breath.
It was more akin to a porcelain doll with a smile.
"You must enjoy your stay…" it muttered.
Rosette rose with slow horror, the blood from Vera's chest staining her hands.
She stepped forward.
And in a burst of movement.
SHHHHNK.
Her crimson blade severed the things head clean off. The body slumped. The head rolled.
The smile remained.
Rosette stood still.
The air was quiet again. Just blood dripping onto the tile.
***
The air smelled like wet stone and cedar oil, but Corbin was past noticing it now.
His boots slammed onto another heated tile floor as the portal closed behind him with a crack of black. This had to be the fifth room they'd hit. Maybe the sixth. The damn rat wouldn't stop teleporting.
Laszio had zipped them through saunas, bathing pools, spas, gyms, and now… a marble-clad massage parlour with stone statues dotting the perimeter. The place was empty. Of course it was. Another space in the resort from hell.
Corbin's fists clenched. His right hand was bruised now. Not from a hit, no, that would require Laszio to actually let him land one cleanly. Now, it was from pounding the edge of a stone bench three teleportations ago. Frustration mounting.
Across the room, a black circle unfurled like a yawning mouth. Laszio stepped out of it, half-limping but still wearing that same nervous little smile like he was apologizing for breathing. His shirt was slightly torn now, and his left elbow, just barely, was discoloured. A bruise.
When did that happen?
Corbin narrowed his eyes. His breath was heavy but measured now. "You've been hit."
Laszio blinked. "Huh?"
"Your elbow," Corbin said, voice low. "It's bruised."
Laszio looked down, then quickly yanked his sleeve down. "I-I don't know. Maybe I bumped into something?"
"You don't bruise from a bump. Not like that." Corbin stepped forward, slowly now, deliberating. "You absorb damage. Or something weirder." That bruise was telling Corbin that something slipped. That the door was slightly ajar.
Laszio opened another portal behind himself and started backing into it.
"Nope," Corbin growled. "We're not done yet."
He charged, but the portal took them again. The world twisted.
They landed on a roof. The roof of the hotel.
Wind roared. The roof of the resort was vast, flat and terrifyingly high, hundreds of meters into the air. There were rails that would be easy to hop over with little effort, no guards and the rest just concrete. Steel vents and open skies. Clouds drifted far below them.
Corbin staggered once, looking around. The height was disorienting.
What the hell?
Then came a shift.
Five black circles opened around him. One above. One below. One to his left. One to his right and another behind.
From each one, a flicker of movement, Laszio's arms, torso, half his face, emerged, vanished, reappeared. A shell game with limbs. Whispers of teleportation. He was weaving the field with perfect timing.
A slap caught Corbin's cheek. A foot scraped his cheek. A palm shoved him from behind, almost sending him off the roof. Every time he turned, Laszio was gone.
Corbin's mind spun into overdrive.
Was he really absorbing power? He thinks to himself that the only way that bruise would have affected Laszio is if Corbin aimed there, or at least if Laszio blocked with it. But he didn't, so… what about inversion?
That was something that also could have worked. If not that then he expects it to be another Ego that would trouble him.
He stopped moving. Closed his eyes. Let the next strike come.
Laszio popped up under his feet again, trying to yank him into a fall, but Corbin flipped upward, twisting in midair, twisting again.
And Laszio was right in front of him, arms outstretched, expecting another failed strike.
Corbin grinned. Not this time fucker.
Corbin punched.
CRACK.
The blow landed with all the force of a comet. Laszio's eyes widened a brief second before the full impact was received. His body jolted backwards, flung across the roof like a paper kite, smashing into the concrete with a brutal slam. His cheek was caved in where Corbin's fist had struck. Blood sprayed.
The black holes winked out.
Corbin landed hard, fists clenched, chest heaving. Then he pumped one into the air.
"YEAH!" he howled. "Suck on that!"
He was grinning wildly now, sweat streaked across his face, but that grin was pure catharsis. "Should've figured it out sooner," he muttered. "You were inverting force. So I just landed a softer hit, which was a lot easier because of my Boost."
That was it. He should have won this fight much earlier. But the rage seemingly activates within his mind and acts as a cloud, or better yet, a storm and gets in the way of his thoughts.
He walked over to check on Laszio, who lay crumpled, twitching.
Then the ground rumbled.
Corbin paused. Looked up.
And froze.
A massive shadow fell over him, stretching the length of the rooftop. There was a low growl that reverberated in his spine and through the rooftop.
And raising through the air, almost as if flying but without wings, was a dragon.
It was huge.
Light blue fur rippled across its body, no scales. Short arms, massive head, long and sharp teeth bared. Its size matched the resort, head scraping the clouds, body undulating through the sky like a serpent in water.
Atop the beast of myth stood Ruben.
Corbin's breath hitched. It was the biggest dragon that Corbin had created.
Ruben's dreads whipped in the wind, his jumper was torn at the sleeves and side, one eye bloodied. He looked carved from fury and ivory, jaw clenched, chest rising slowly. And a stance that was commanding.
He was staring straight ahead. At someone scaling the dragon's back like a dark streak.
Elijah.
Sliding up through the shadow, as if the air bent to him.
Corbin's gut twisted. He didn't even think.
He ran.
Sprinted full-speed to the edge of the roof.
Didn't hesitate. Didn't look back.
"RUBEN!" he shouted.
The wind the words from his mouth as he jumped.
Time slowed.
As Corbin flew through the air, arms outstretched, wind clawing at his face, he saw Ruben turn slightly, just enough to catch him in his peripheral vision. Just enough to meet his eyes.
And Ruben gained a look of relief and then a small smile.
The dragon roared and the sky split.