He surveyed the building under the veil of a gloomy alley across the street. From the outside, one would assume it was entirely barren. Every window was shattered or barricaded, and weeds attempted to scale the lifeless brick walls. It looked just like all the other surrounding structures, abandoned and forsaken.
"This is where the scum resides," Halo stated, glaring up at the building with distaste.
Once they arrived, she released Todotori from whatever spell she'd put him under, allowing him to observe the situation appropriately. His body was still shaking uncontrollably, and he desperately urged himself to get a grip. If she could genuinely control his body, he had little choice but to do as she said. However, that didn't mean he had to be thrilled about it.
"You're insane if you think I'm just going to barge in there," Todotori grumbled, crouching behind the shadowed corner.
"Why not? You must learn how to control your abilities somehow."
He sighed, weighing the options. "How many of them are inside?"
"About forty. But that's a generous guess," Halo replied as if the number were miniscule.
It was a group of criminals they were talking about. Murderers, thieves, and worse, all huddled up in one place. Such scum were not to be bothered, but, for whatever reason, Halo insisted they poke the hornets' nest.
Todotori ground his teeth and spun, resting his back on the cold wall behind him. "There's no way," he shook his head. "I won't do it. You're sending me in there to be killed."
"Are you saying you intend to ignore my instructions?" Halo was beginning to appear irritated.
"Yes, I am," Todotori snapped. "You may not know this, being an almighty, supernatural Shadow-thingy and all, but one guy cannot take down forty men. Especially if that one guy is me."
"You underestimate yourself."
"You overestimate my desire to be murdered."
He didn't care for these games. It was only a day ago that he had nearly died facing those men, and Todotori didn't intend to let history repeat itself so quickly.
"Nevertheless, it must be done," Halo said scornfully. "Those men were planning something against me before the last Angel died, and they must pay for their conspiracies."
"That sounds like a you problem," Todotori huffed, standing to his feet. "If you're so powerful, why don't you just take care of them yourself?"
He started to walk away, fading into the darkness of the alley. Suddenly, there was a gripping hand on his mind. His body froze. He could feel it sweeping him away like a flood and choking his will.
It was happening again.
"Where do you think you're going?" Halo asked, her voice cold and domineering. "Did you already forget how this arrangement works?"
Eyes going black, a haze filled Todotori's vision. Unable to fight it, he managed to get out one last resentment. "Not this again... you bitch-"
"That's not the first time I've been called that, nor will it be the last," Halo sneered. "Now, do as you've been told."
Todotori's body turned. He started walking out into the moonlight towards the hideout. Crying out from within his head, he could not stop himself from stepping closer and closer to his own doom. Who knew how many men were actually inside? How could he possibly fight, let alone kill anyone this way? Helpless, he watched as he breached the front door with a slamming kick.
The inside was devoid of light. Old furniture, desks, and shelves were scattered and overturned throughout the room. The floor was covered in dirt, papers, and dead cigarettes that littered the rotting wood beneath. The scene was almost apocalyptic.
"Did you hear that?" a voice rang out from the doorway across the room. A man appeared out of the shadowed hallway beyond, a confused look on his face. "Hey, who the hell are you?!"
Todotori kept walking, steadily heading for the man. He inched closer as the scum became defensive, stepping out in a fighting stance.
"You're not supposed to be here! Leave before I kill you!"
He ignored the man, his shadow shrinking as the light from the front door grew farther away. The scum ground his teeth and violently swung his fist. Todotori dodged fluidly, reached out swiftly, and grabbed the man by the jaw. The man's body jerked as he was pulled with force, and he began screaming helplessly.
Todotori had heard that same scream before.
A searing redness began to cover the man's face. It spread like a disease, eating the skin of his cheeks and forehead. His hair began disintegrating, and his ears and nose started to char and flake. Boils broke out down the man's neck, seeping gruesomely.
Finally, the screaming ceased, and the man's breaths became shallow. Todotori released him, and he fell to the floor, unable to mumble any final words while he choked on the last few seconds of his life. Defeated, his body twitched like an exterminated insect as Todotori walked past.
The hall was gloomy, the only light coming from a small staircase several yards away. Footsteps echoed from that direction, silhouettes abruptly following the sound. Plummeting down the stairs, two men ran at Todotori aggressively. No doubt, they'd heard their companion shrilling moments before.
Todotori did not hesitate as they gained ground, continuing to walk at a leisurely pace. Slowly, the men began to slow their stride. Their faces became flushed, the skin cracking. Shrieking in pain, they both stumbled to the ground. With shaking hands, they uselessly reached for Todotori as he marched along.
He scaled the staircase, finding three more men waiting to ambush him. He moved smoothly, his body dodging and rolling like a robot programmed for slaughter. Every punch that he landed, every shove and kick, left behind a shroud of decay. He carried an aura of death, and anyone he touched was cursed by his hand. Subduing the men was simple. He wasn't even trying.
The layout was similar upstairs, with darkness and clutter decorating the space. Todotori plowed through every room, efficiently taking out every man he faced. Within minutes, he must have murdered twenty. The extent of his ability was becoming apparent. Radiation devoured everything, causing his enemies' organs to fail within seconds and leaving a trail of petrified corpses in his wake. Minutes went on, and he continued burning, mutilating, and killing.
By the time he made it to the top floor, Todotori had ascended five levels and murdered over thirty men, creating piles of dead bodies in every room. There were only a few stragglers left, and drawing them out didn't take much. He disposed of them as before, easily clearing the final room and finally completing his task. From what he could tell, he'd killed them all, and yet his eyes were still dark.
Was it not over?
"Don't move!"
The voice came from behind, from the door Todotori just entered. He turned quickly and saw nothing but a gun. Staring down the barrel, he found a familiar man standing before him. It was one of the men from the night before. Fear filled the man's eyes, and his hold on the weapon was shaky. Todotori didn't remember him looking so young.
"You killed him! You killed Chihara!" the man yelled with fearful rage.
Chihara? It must have been the name of the Angel Todotori killed the night before. For some reason, he never considered that the monster had a name or people who cared about his death.
"You devil, you killed everyone!" the man continued, a gloss covering his eyes. "I'm going to make you pay for this!"
With his last wail, the man fired his gun. Todotori swiped the man's hand away, missing a bullet to the head. He jabbed, hitting the man under the jaw before kicking him back with fantastic force. The man slid back several feet, falling to his knees as he failed to maintain balance. With no other defense and desperation taking over, he lifted his gun once more.
The sound of the weapon firing pealed along the walls. This time, all Todotori did was hold out a hand. The bullet soared, nearly reaching his palm before suddenly evaporating into flying metal droplets. Sizzling copper globs splattered across his fingers, and he shook them off with one firm jerk before glaring at the man again.
A bullet. He'd just melted a bullet with his own hand.
The man scooted back, knowing that there was no escape. "Y- you... how-" he stuttered.
Those were the man's final words as Todotori pointed a finger in his direction. A burning hole began to form in the scum's gut, the skin and organs of his abdomen dissolving as if hit with a laser. He didn't even have time to let out a miserable scream before his body flopped onto the ground in a puddle of blood.
That was it. It was done.
Todotori was abruptly torn back to reality and had no time to adjust. He jolted, immediately collapsing to his knees. At first, he could only stare at the floor, panting in terror. His vision returned to normal, and his body was his own again. However, as the weight of what he'd done crushed down on his shoulders, he wished it wasn't.
Reluctantly, he stood to his feet, and for the first time, he was able to witness the magnitude of his destruction with clear eyes.
All around him, there were bodies. There was no way to adjust to the disgusting disfiguration of the faces he'd desecrated. Layers of skin had been burned off, revealing revolting depictions of human anatomy underneath. It was worse than any horror film he'd ever seen, and it made him sick. Even if they were scum, he couldn't stand the sight of anyone dying in such a way. The scene had finally set in, the truth slapping him in the cheek. He was the sole source of all this anguish.
Todotori tried to gain control of himself, tried to shake himself calm. After a few seconds, he had no choice but to become numb to reality. He stepped over waste and inhuman bodies as if they were nothing, lifelessly following the endless string of corpses. Exhaustion kept him from contemplating the consequences of what he'd done; truthfully, he'd probably never think of it again.
After all, they were all dead now.
----
She couldn't stand it. She was going mad. The more it played over in her dreams, the harder it became to accept. It had to have been a trick, a cheat. She couldn't take it. She wouldn't accept it.
Lazzir woke just as the sky was prepping for the morning, a soft haze shining down on her face and forcing her to rise. She'd been lying on an old couch, covered by a thin blanket, the fabric coarse against her bruised skin. Her head split as soon she sat up, causing her to clutch her temple irritatingly. Where was she?
It was completely silent, almost to the point of discomfort. The space was frigid and unfamiliar, decorated in an antiquated and horrid design. She assumed it was a living room. In front of her was a scratched oak coffee table and an ancient television set completed with giant antennas. A low shelf housed books of all sorts just under the large window to Lazzir's left; none appeared to have ever been read. The window was left open, bringing in a crisp breeze and carrying a scent of moss.
"You sure pass out a lot."
"Ahhh!" Lazzir jolted, reflexively flailing her arm in the direction of the sound. Missing, her body slipped off the side of the couch and landed on the ground with a thud.
It was Tilluan. He sat on the back of the couch, grinning smugly down at her as she wheezed to catch her breath.
"Asshole!" she yelled from the floor.
Tilluan chuckled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just coming to see if you were awake."
"Well, I'm awake now!" Lazzir fumbled to her feet. "Why do you always have to sneak up like that?!"
"I don't do it on purpose," he smiled, clearly lying.
"Whatever," Lazzir rolled her eyes. She took another glance around, massaging the shoulder she'd just rammed into the floor. "Where are we anyway? Don't tell me you kidnapped me again."
"This is the old church house. Spoons and I stay here. Even though it was abandoned years ago, we were able to fix it up a bit. Nice, huh?"
Despite the outdated furniture and sun-faded art, everything was spotless. There was no dust or dirt, and even the oval rug along the floor appeared recently swept. Did two men seriously live there all by themselves?
"Uh... sure," Lazzir nodded as she took it all in.
"I brought you in here because the church floor looked cold, and you didn't seem like you were going to wake up anytime soon," Tilluan explained, his face going grave. "Mai really got you good."
She didn't want to think about it. The fight had filled Lazzir's nightmares until the very moment she woke. Every move replayed repeatedly in her head, each incorrect step and every misplaced jab circling her mind. It haunted her.
"Don't remind me," Lazzir looked away shamefully.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you still beat me," Tilluan pointed to the tiny bandage across his nose.
"No offense, but that doesn't mean much," Lazzir huffed, her thoughts trailing again. "I don't know how she did it..."
Tilluan walked around the couch, snatching the blanket off the floor and folding it neatly. "You got your ass beat, who cares? The bigger problem is that you still don't have your Angel ability. That's something I really can't explain."
He was right. Not only was Lazzir beaten, but no progress had been made because of it. She looked down at her hands, urging them to give her the answer.
You must be a dud. That's what Mai had said.
"What if I'm not really an Angel?" Lazzir questioned. "What if it's a mistake?"
"The universe isn't really known for making mistakes. Plus, I saw the mark on your neck. It's the real deal," Tilluan insisted.
"Then why hasn't anything happened yet?" At this point, she was doubting everything.
Normally, she'd never buy into any of the Angel nonsense that Tilluan and Mai kept talking about. It seemed ridiculous. Superpowers, mysterious marks, and disintegrating bodies sounded more like things from a comic than real life. However, Lazzir couldn't explain anything she'd seen otherwise. No doubt, there was a supernatural affair in the balance, even if she didn't fully understand it yet.
"You know what? Don't worry about it," Tilluan leaned down to her level, ensuring she met his eyes. "Now that I think of it, your Angel ability might just be complaining."
"You're not funny," Lazzir scolded, folding her arms.
"Whatever," Tilluan relented, appearing amused as he sauntered toward the front door. The wood creaked as he opened it to the bleak outdoors. "We better get you back home before your complaining powers ruin the vibes in my living room."
"Trust me, the vibes in here were already unsalvageable," she huffed and rolled her eyes.
"Complaining!"
The morning air was growing crisper by the day as autumn began to grasp the earth. The sun rose lazily, leisurely bringing in the dawn and allowing the shadows to remain a while longer. Tilluan eventually caught the hint that Lazzir was no longer in the mood for talking, halting his corny jokes and snarky comments for the rest of their walk into Renu City. She was too deep in thought for conversation, too infuriated and perplexed to sort out her emotions.
The inside of the gym was woefully quiet. There were no pesky children to train, no floors to mop, and no visitors to be had. Most days were painfully similar and continuously tedious. Lazzir would usually spend her days lightly training and impishly bothering Misu.
However, as her mind failed to stop racing, she spent her day chasing another goal.
"Stupid-" Lazzir mumbled bitterly to herself as she trained. The punching bag wobbled, chains clashing with every raging kick. "Stuck up... cheating.. little..."
"Laz, you've been drilling for two hours. Aren't you tired?" Misu asked, watching her with concern as he attempted to organize the closet across the room.
"People who lose aren't allowed to feel tired," Lazzir ground her teeth as she continued tormenting the bag.
"Who came up with that rule?"
"Please... just stop talking," her breath was becoming harsh.
"Did you lose to someone? Is that what you said?" Misu pressed, cocking his head. "But you never lose."
"Misu, I'm serious."
"Who'd you lose to? I'm confused."
"Misu!" Lazzir stopped drilling, sweat rolling down her face and neck as she whipped around to face the old man. Her eyes were filled with fury, and she was panting wildly. "Would you please just can it?! Yes, I did lose! Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted me to admit?"
Misu paused momentarily, only seeming shocked by her outburst for a mere second before returning to his usual jovial self. "You know, once you say the word lose too many times, it stops sounding like a real word," he chucked.
Lazzir groaned hopelessly, turning and kicking the bag out of frustration. Exhausted and overwhelmed, she finally submitted and plopped onto the ground with a heavy breath.
"I don't get it!" she whined, leaning back on her arms and staring at the ceiling in defeat.
The old man waddled over and sat beside her, his feet folded neatly under his knees. His permanent, genuine smile was starting to get on her nerves. "Tell me what happened."
"I already told you," Lazzir pouted.
"So, you lost. It's not the end of the world," Misu rocked back and forth, nudging Lazzir with his shoulder.
"How would you know? In your entire career, you never lost once," she said, looking over at the wall where a collection of old newspapers had been framed. One mount held a paper that read 'The King, Undefeated Champion.'
Misu sighed. "You're right. But do you know how many times I had to lose in order to become undefeated?"
"What are you talking about?"
"If you never encounter someone stronger than you, you'll never be able to improve," Misu simplified. "To reach a level where I could take down every opponent I faced, I had to be humbled over and over again. Don't pretend like you don't understand. You weren't always as good as you are now."
Lazzir lowered her head. He was right; technically, this wasn't the first time she'd ever been beaten. She'd simply forgot how humiliating it was to get knocked onto her ass. And it didn't feel good.
"Sure, but isn't the point of losing to learn something?" she asked, feeling increasingly hopeless.
"You don't think you learned anything from it?" the old man sounded skeptical.
"I've faced people with all kinds of techniques, but this time was different. I tried to adjust, and it was useless. My opponent's style wasn't like anything you've taught me," Lazzir shook her head and closed her eyes. "I feel like I lost and gained nothing."
"A style you've never seen before, huh? Maybe you could learn it. You've always been good at mimicking moves," Misu said, standing to his feet. "Show me. What did she do?"
"I- I don't know. I can't really remember what she did-" Lazzir stuttered, her mind racing back to the fight. How could she reproduce a move she barely processed in the first place?
"Show me," Misu insisted firmly, hands resting on his hefty hips.
Lazzir hesitated, staring up at him as he grinned down at her. How could he have so much faith in her, even after admitting she lost? Reluctantly, she stood and squared herself.
"Okay... it was something like this-"
She stepped slowly, trying to recall the first of Mai's attacks that caught her off guard. She swiped Misu's right hand to the side, approaching him closely and jabbing him in the left shoulder. The old man stumbled back but wasn't driven entirely off balance.
"Wait, that wasn't it. Somehow, that move knocked me off my feet completely," Lazzir furrowed her brow in concentration. "I think I'm missing something."
"Oh!" Misu exclaimed, stepping forward in a low stance. "Was it like this?"
He moved swiftly, slapping Lazzir's hand to the side and shoving her shoulder. This time, it was steady enough for her to catch. Misu placed his heel behind hers, preventing her from recovering her foot, and simultaneously forced her right shoulder across. In doing so, her entire body became twisted, and she began falling back.
Lazzir recovered like before, rolling on her back and creating distance from her opponent. When she glanced up, all she could see was the smile on Misu's face.
"So, you saw it that time then," he chuckled.
"How did you know that was it?" Lazzir rose, her mind trying to comprehend.
"It's a very basic move," Misu explained. "The technique is usually used in weaponized combat, so that's why you wouldn't recognize it."
"You've never fought with weapons," Lazzir raised a brow at the old man.
"How do you know that?" he smirked.
She exhaled a short snicker. There was a reason Misu was her idol. A combat genius, he seemed to know everything there was to fighting. If he tried, the man could teach a frog how to do a hook kick. It was no surprise he could recreate such an obscure movement so effortlessly.
"What else?" Misu beckoned, preparing his stance once more. "I know that one attack wasn't all it took to finish you off."
"Well, let me see," Lazzir readied herself. "She kept doing this annoying move-"
She stepped, recalling the attacks as she went along. Misu followed her fluidly, demonstrating how to dodge and evade each movement while providing correction. Though she wasn't precisely copying Mai's technique, she grew used to its flow through controlled, deliberate pacing.
"Let's go through it again, faster this time," Misu suggested.
It felt foreign, more like a dance than a fight. Lazzir felt stiff, as if her body was resisting some of the movements as she tried to attack at a gradually increasing rate. However, as they repeated the sequence continuously, it became instinctual.
After nearly an hour of practice, Misu finally waved the white flag.
"Alright, I think that's all this old man can take," he said, panting.
"Seriously? I was just starting to get the hang of it," Lazzir argued, wiping the sweat from her chin. "Let's go for just one more round."
"Nope, I'm done. I need a nap," Misu insisted, throwing his hands up in defeat as he turned for his office. "You may need one, too. You were starting to slow down there at the end."
Lazzir groaned, dropping her arms loosely by her side. Glaring at herself in the mirrored wall, her body covered in sweat and slumping in exhaustion, she recognized that he was right as always. Pushing herself too far wouldn't help, and she knew that.
Upstairs, she showered and changed before crawling into her bed. Allowing all of her muscles to relax for the first time that day, Lazzir let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, her temper had wholly subsided, and her mind was calm. As always, she simply needed to punch something to resolve her ill mood.
The sun was beginning to set, gradually darkening the neighboring building in the window and inviting the shadows inside. Just as she started drifting off, something flashed in the corner of her room. Her eyes darted, trying to follow the motion, but it was gone.
"Tilluan?" Lazzir sat up, looking around her room. He usually didn't appear until later in the night, but it was likely that he could be messing with her.
The room was perfectly silent. No sounds. No movement.
"It's not funny, you know," Lazzir grumbled, positive Tilluan was behind whatever the ghostly object was. "I'm trying to sleep."
Laying her head back down, she huffed in annoyance. Almost immediately, before she could even shut her eyes, there was another dark movement at the end of her bed. This time, Lazzir bolted out of the sheets and stomped to the footboard with irritation.
"Are you stupid? Don't make me kick your ass again," she threatened, getting down to look underneath the bed. Per usual, there was nothing but junk. However, she wasn't convinced. "Come on out, scaredy-cat, the game's over."
After a moment, she gave up. Lazzir stood, placing her hands on her hips and rolling her eyes as she walked around the bed. Distractedly mumbling obscenities to herself, she nearly brushed a small, black, bobbing object with her foot as she stepped.
Lazzir leaped into the air the instant she noticed it, screaming as she stood on the bed to distance herself from the creature. It was very puny, like a dust ball rolling and bouncing around her room uncontrollably. The circular entity was practically translucent as if made from a black, sheer cloth. Rolling around, it left a wispy trail of darkness everywhere it went.
"Ahhh! What the hell?!" she yelled, dancing on her bed in fear as it pounced in circles. She yanked up one of her pillows and reared it back, preparing herself to jump. "Hold still, you little-"
Lazzir jumped fiercely at the fur ball, slamming the pillow onto its tiny body. The creature was still there when she lifted the pillow, immediately beginning to bounce once more.
"Shit!" she screamed, slamming the pillow down again instinctively. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!"
She followed the pest around the entire room, her weapon of choice doing no good.
"Dammit, die!"
The creature was too quick to catch bare-handed, but she refused to give up. Minutes passed, and Lazzir's room was nearly destroyed. Books, clothes, and junk were thrown everywhere in pursuit of the strange invader. She was so focused that she didn't see Tilluan suddenly materialize beside her.
"What's going on?" Tilluan asked, his face panicked.
"Ahhh!" Lazzir jumped away from him, still on edge. "Where did you come from?! And why do you keep doing that?!"
"I came because I could hear you screaming all the way down the street," he explained.
Lazzir was scanning the room, appearing utterly unhinged. "You made me lose him! Where did he go?"
"What are you doing?" Tilluan's face was now ridden with concern.
"Shut up, I think I hear him." Lazzir abruptly shoved a finger over his mouth and held another over hers.
Unexpectedly, there was a flash at her feet. She glanced down, and there it was, bouncing on her toes. With a deafening squeal, Lazzir sprung onto Tilluan. She latched to him with an iron grip and yelled.
"Kill it! Kill it now!"
Tilluan was unfazed but still a bit confused. He casually stepped on top of the bouncing creature, and it squished into fading black smoke.
"There, it's gone," he said.
Perplexed and slightly ashamed, Lazzir slid off him and stepped away awkwardly. "Thanks..." she mumbled.
"You scared me," Tilluan stated, straightening his shirt. "I thought something was wrong."
"Aren't you supposed to be watching me? Where were you?" Lazzir demanded. "And what was that thing?"
"I don't watch you all the time. That gets boring," Tilluan smirked. "And that was a Shadow. I can't believe such a tiny one was able to scare you like that. It's kind of funny."
"A Shadow?" Lazzir repeated, looking around at all the chaos she'd caused. She bent over and picked up a stray piece of underwear that had been used as a makeshift weapon.
Amazingly, there was no trace of the ghostly creature left behind. After being squashed, its remains had dissipated entirely.
Tilluan placed his hands in his pockets with a roguish grin. "Don't worry about it. I'll teach you more about that tonight," he said. "If you see another one before then, try to handle it on your own."
"That's what I was already trying to do," Lazzir grumbled. She watched as his body faded away, that smug look still on his face. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?!"
Before she could oppose him any further, his body had disappeared entirely. She didn't have a clue what he was talking about. First, it was Angels. Now, it was Shadows. Who knew what supernatural being would show up next? Defeated and mystified, she turned to observe the massacre that was her bedroom.
"You've got to be kidding me..."