Hss-ssk-POP.
Kill count updated: Veinskimmer, rank D, second kill. Total: seven.
Stephen watched the monster's body collapse and then sought his own hands with his gaze; reddened, warm, but less exhaustion. Cauterize wasn't so difficult anymore. He understood the nuances of heat better now, how to concentrate it, how each centimeter of his hand was an ignition point.
Two days had passed since the Bloodite. They trained channeling and conduction guided by instructions that Milla and Harvis found in the database, with Ashe also focusing on alchemical magnetism.
Stephen was also trying to build a new Salt barrier; not as powerful as the last one because it required more residue and that wasn't something they had in abundance. Something practical that could withstand hits from at least rank B monsters in emergencies. The crystallization wasn't occurring as it should. The crystals shattered before forming a wide protective mass. Lack of concentration, Milla said.
Lack of being good enough, he understood.
Ashe was collecting the crimson prisms left by the Veinskimmer: they had an adamantine shine that reflected sunlight almost aggressively. Stephen helped her with the container and stored it in the case when it was ready.
"Harvis, how far to our destination?"
Eighteen minutes, approximately.
Stephen waited for the girl to start walking. Her reddish-brown hair was tied in a loose ponytail that day. He walked alongside her. After taking a day to improve basic skills and establish strategies, they decided to visit the school where Stephen's mother was a teacher. They had been walking for two hours and each step closer seemed to result in a heavier, more thundering heart.
The streets here carried a different kind of silence. Drier. The asphalt was cracked in long veins, weeds pushing through where rain had pooled and evaporated. A faded billboard advertising some energy drink hung crooked from a single bolt, its colors bleached by six months of sun. The buildings on either side stood with hollow windows like empty eye sockets, curtains flapping occasionally through broken glass. The air smelled of dust and rust and something faintly organic, like old paper left to rot.
"She's probably not there." There was no reproach in Ashe's tone, reinforcing it for the third time.
"I know. I know." There was no irritation in his voice either.
The streets weren't as covered in wreckage as in the previous district. Some vehicles even seemed preserved enough to function. Stephen discovered that his new companion had already tried; the noise of a motorcycle attracted monsters like blood attracts a Veinskimmer.
The silence was worse than a Bloodite's growl or a conversation about his mother being dead. It was like inviting all the nightmares and negative premonitions to whisper in your ear like serpents, psychedelic and low hisses. He missed the barking in the park, the motorcycles revving too loud because some show-off wanted attention, the voices overlapping in line at the hot dog cart.
Stephen broke the silence. "You've passed forty kills, but you haven't earned any bonus, right?" It was a stupid question. He knew the answer. He asked it anyway.
"No, without a license it's impossible. It's bullshit. I remember hearing that after fifty kills, if you collected the residue, Prometheus gives you a financial bonus of three times the salary and a new Synthetic Conductor."
Stephen looked at the panel on his forearm. It displayed a status page with his information and the catalog of killed monsters, plus the dates. The number "7" bothered him like an itch you scratch until the skin turns red.
The school came into view. A long building that was once white. Today it combined a myriad of colors encrusted on its surface: yellow streaks of sulfur residue, gray patches ofite calcium from rain exposure, dark stains that could have been blood or mold or both. The wall was partially destroyed and the courtyard was visible, two Veinskimmers crawling across the cracked concrete.
Stephen looked at Ashe; her white skin still bearing grayish stains. Her light eyes met his. They shared a nod. They started moving.
Stephen separated to the right, Ashe went left.
The nearest Veinskimmer noticed the movement. The mass of pulsating veins rose from the ground, sensory cilia trembling in Stephen's direction. He had already opened the Sulfur box. Already had the crystals pressed against his palm.
Chk.
The flaming sparks were born. The monster advanced.
Stephen waited. The Veinskimmer was fast when it sensed blood, slow when it sniffed heat. It was still sniffing. Three meters. Two. The tentacles prepared to fire.
He advanced first.
His hand closed around the thickest tentacle before it could retract. The cold of drainage invaded his fingers, climbing up his wrist, but Stephen already knew the sensation. Already knew how much time he had.
Hss-tkk.
The heat sealed the vein, which pulsed from red to white. The Veinskimmer shuddered. Stephen followed the tentacle to the main body, cauterizing as he advanced, the smell of burning flesh rising in spirals. He found the core. He squeezed it like it was gelatin.
Hss-ssk-POP.
The monster collapsed. Stephen rubbed his hands together and searched for Ashe with his gaze.
On the other side of the courtyard, Ashe was finishing the second one. The PoisonCane pierced through the center of the vein mass, the gleaming silver layer infiltrating the Veinskimmer's vascular system. The monster convulsed as the liquid metal poisoned each capillary from the inside out.
Vrrm-CLINK.
Silence. The creature melted and fell apart.
Kill count updated. Milla informed. Veinskimmer, rank D, third kill. Total: eight.
Stephen wiped his hand on his pants and walked to Ashe. She was already collecting the residue, the magnetism pulling the crimson crystals with more precision than two days ago. Maybe eighty-five percent recovery now.
"Improving," he commented.
"Still not enough."
They stored the ingredients and approached the school entrance.
The double doors had been ripped from their hinges, thrown on the corridor floor like metal corpses. Stephen stepped over one of them and the creak echoed through the empty interior like an omen. The smell was of dust and something mineral, almost like wet stone.
Alert: alchemical signature detected. Distance: forty meters. Probable location: gymnasium. Harvis informed.
"Rank?" Ashe asked, lowering her voice.
Analysis in progress. Harvis responded. Predominant composition: Philosophical Salt. Probable designation: Saltspire. Rank B. Behavior: territorial, defensive. Active crystalline regeneration.
"Rank B," Stephen repeated.
Ashe tightened her grip on the PoisonCane. "First time?"
"For me, yes."
"You'll get used too it." She shrugged.
They advanced through the corridor. It was strange entering a school, because it didn't seem like much time had passed since he finished his last school year. Thanks to the explosion, it had already been a year.
Open lockers, scattered papers, and toppled desks formed the welcome card. Some skeletons here and there. A classroom on the left had its wall destroyed, allowing a view of the interior: stacked chairs, a blackboard cracked in half. Stephen tried to recognize something. Anything. His mother's classroom was on the second floor. He wasn't going up. Not yet.
The gymnasium was at the end of the corridor.
The door was intact. Stephen pressed his ear against the surface. A deep, almost subsonic sound vibrated from the other side.
Krr-tink. Krr-tink. Krr-tink.
Crystals forming and breaking with snaps. Forming again. Ashe touched his shoulder and pointed to a side window. They could see part of the interior. The Saltspire occupied the center of the court.
It was humanoid. Three meters tall. The entire body was made of translucent to opaque salt crystals, stacked in irregular layers like an unfinished sculpture. The head had no face, just an angular mass that rotated occasionally, emitting that deep hum. The arms were too long, almost touching the ground, ending in pointed formations. Every few seconds, part of the body fragmented and reconstituted.
Krr-tink.
"It regenerates," Stephen murmured.
Confirmation: Saltspires reconstruct physical damage through continuous crystallization. Estimated regeneration rate: 4% of body mass per second. Harvis concluded.
It seemed like a silent pact between Milla and Harvis. Not to overlap so they wouldn't disturb them.
"So we need to cause more than 4% damage per second," Ashe calculated. "Or prevent the regeneration."
Stephen thought. Salt was fixation. Stability. Resistance. Fire wouldn't melt salt easily; the melting point was too high. But Antimony was annulment. Negation.
"Can your Antimony nullify the regeneration?"
Ashe frowned. "I've never tried on something this size. But maybe. If I maintain contact."
"Direct contact?"
"That's the problem."
Stephen looked at the monster again. The long arms. The sharp points. Anyone who got close would be impaled. But not him.
"I'll be the distraction," he said. "You circle around and apply the Antimony. When the regeneration stops, I use Cauterize on the core."
"Where's the core?" Ashe addressed Harvis.
Analysis: Saltspire cores are generally located at the center of mass. In this specimen, the thorax region.
"Center of the chest," Stephen translated, more to himself than to her.
Ashe nodded. She opened the case and removed a dark ampoule. Antimony. The crystals inside were silvery-blue, forming star-like patterns. She broke the seal and poured them into her palm, closing her eyes for an instant.
The temperature around her dropped. Stephen felt the difference. As if the air had lost something. No. That wasn't it. It was as if the air ceased to exist.
"Ready," she said.
Stephen pushed the gymnasium door and the strident creak announced his arrival.
The Saltspire turned. The angular mass that served as a head fixed on him, like a sculpture coming to life in a horror movie. The deep hum intensified.
KRRRR-TINK.
The monster advanced, crystals popping against the floor and echoing.
Stephen ran to the side, opening the Sulfur box. Crystals in palm. Heat rising. The Saltspire was faster than expected. An arm descended toward him, the crystalline point cutting through the air.
He rolled. The impact shattered the wooden floor. Salt fragments flew.
Chk-fss!
The tongue of fire struck the monster's torso. The crystals darkened at the point of impact, cracked, and began to reconstruct almost immediately.
Krr-tink. Krr-tink.
Too fast.
The second arm came. Stephen jumped backward. The point passed centimeters from his face. He felt the cold radiating from the crystalline surface.
"Ashe!"
"Almost there!"
Ashe was circling the monster with subtle steps. The hand covered in Antimony glowed with a dark light, almost as if that piece of the world had been replaced by a void.
The Saltspire noticed. The head rotated one hundred and eighty degrees, the body remaining still. An arm reconfigured, crystals reorganizing to create a blade directed at Ashe.
Stephen needed to give the monster more attention.
He advanced. Pressed more Sulfur into his palm. Focused on concentrated, penetrating heat. Reached the monster's leg and closed his hand around the crystal.
Hss-tkk.
The salt melted under his fingers. The Saltspire roared, a sound like ice breaking in slow motion. The head turned back to Stephen. Both arms came simultaneously.
He released and rolled, but the second blow hit his shoulder. The impact threw him against the wall. Salt crystals penetrated his jacket, scratching the skin beneath. The pain was sharp, immediate.
Alert: superficial wound. Vitality stable.
Ashe seized the moment of distraction to act.
Her hand pressed against the Saltspire's back. The dark light spread across the crystalline surface like ink in water. The monster's hum changed. Became irregular. Intermittent.
Krr-ti... krr... krr...
The regeneration was failing.
"Stephen! Now!"
He got up. The Sulfur box was on the floor, crystals scattered. He gathered what he could with a trembling hand. Pressed it into his palm. The heat came, but weak. Unstable. The pain dispersed his concentration.
It didn't matter. He would make it happen.
Stephen ran. The Saltspire tried to turn, but the movements were slow, disorderly. Ashe's Antimony was nullifying more than the regeneration. It was nullifying the very structure.
He reached the torso. Found the point where the crystals were densest, most opaque. The core.
He closed both hands around it. They were dense crystals, slightly granular, but without temperature. Without smell. Total stability.
Concentrate. Don't disperse. Heat that penetrates.
Hss...
The sound came out weak. The crystals resisted. Stephen pushed harder. He felt the blood heating in his wrists, the tingling transforming into burning. It was too much. He was exceeding the limit.
Alert: alchemical exhaustion imminent. Recommendation: stop.
He ignored it.
...ssk...
A crack appeared in the core. Light pressed from within, as if begging to explode and blind everything around.
Ashe shouted something. Stephen felt an impact on the side of his body, crystals tearing fabric and skin. The Saltspire's arm. Still functional, apparently. He bit his tongue to disperse the main pain and not lose concentration. His fingers threatened to give way and his knuckles ached when Stephen reinforced the pressure.
...POP.
The core gave way.
The Saltspire froze. The hum ceased. For a second, the monster remained standing, a motionless salt statue. Then the cracks spread. From the core to the thorax. From the thorax to the limbs. From the head to the base.
KRRK-TSSSHHHH.
The entire body fragmented. White and translucent crystals rained over the gymnasium floor, precipitating into piles that glowed under the weak light from the windows.
Stephen fell to his knees. His hands were red, trembling. The cut on his shoulder and the new one on his side pulsed like a Veinskimmer's veins.
Ashe approached, also breathless. The hand that held the Antimony was numb, her fingers barely responding.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"It worked."
"You almost died."
"Almost." He breathed deeply, touching the side of his body. His fingers dried under the blood. "I thought it would be like Sulfur. You know, not being able to kill me."
Actually... Milla interjected. Salt is about stability and fixation. When they meet, the more fragile one yields and breaks. However, the chance of death was 18%. The Saltspire isn't as fatal as it is resistant.
Ashe just smiled in reaction to Milla's answer. She sat beside him, her back against the gymnasium wall. The salt crystals around them were beginning to lose their shine, the alchemical disintegration transforming the monster into collectible residue.
Stephen looked at the panel.
Kill count updated. Milla informed. Saltspire, rank B, one kill. Total: nine.
The numbers rising made him shiver with something close to excitement.
"There's your kill again." She sounded bleak as Antimony itself, impossible to read.
"Team kill," he replied. "There should be a parameter for that."
The system is designed to instigate competitiveness. Milla argued.
Stephen grabbed with one hand the little white powder that Ashe couldn't collect and pressed it against the wound on the side of his body. It stung at first, but he felt the healing begin.
When he felt enough firmness in his body again, he stood up.
"We still have something to do."
Ashe nodded and rose afterward.
Stephen needed to find out if his mother was still there.