Chapter 45.3: Dreams of the Scarlet Sands

  A cornered dog will destroy everything to get out, thought Dante as he stood atop the rubble of the newly collapsed wing of the hospital. A small segment of rebar bounced off Indifference soundlessly before hitting the ground with a clank.

  The structure had caved inward, leaving a mountain of shattered concrete, twisted metal, and broken glass. Far below, Faust lay sprawled amongst the wreckage – small, broken, moaning. In one hand, Dante held Faust’s severed right arm. He promptly ripped it up with his Regalia until there was nothing for the stitches to cling to. Indifference expanded outward in a ripple of force, pushing the remaining debris and blood off him in a wave before collapsing rapidly to wrap around his body.

  Dante looked down at the figure struggling amongst the ruins. The height difference made Faust look almost pitiful.

  “Had enough?” Dante asked, his question echoing.

  There was a harsh grunt as Faust staggered to his feet, his hand pressed to his right shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers, dark and viscous. But as Dante watched, black threads sprouted from the wound. The stitches wove themselves across the gaping hole where his arm had been. Just as Dante had expected, he closed the wound with his technique. Every time he used it, it got faster and faster, the threads moving with increasing desperation.

  Defying death was Faust’s obsession after all.

  “You–” Faust huffed mid-sentence, his chest heaving. His eyes bulged like a madman's, bloodshot and wild, the whites visible all around the iris. Spittle flew from his lips. “Your–”

  The words caught in his throat, strangled by rage or pain or both. “Your– your–” He could not seem to get past that single word. The skin on his face grew blotchy and red, and veins pushed against his temples. His body shook, presumably from the blood loss.

  “I shall proceed to seal you.” Dante brandished his sword at Faust. “Just like I’ve been attempting to all along.”

  Meridian points, if hit properly, could interrupt the flow of energy within his opponents, severely weakening them. When done in succession, a seal would be forged. It was plain as day that the three and seven-stroked sealing techniques would not work as Faust was not a mere phantom. As for the twelve-stroke sealing technique, Faust had gotten used to his tactic of creating afterimages to throw him off, deflecting him at the last and most crucial strike.

  Faust was not a genius when it came to manipulating Cursed Essence, but he was able to adapt, which was bothersome enough.

  A strange calm seemed to wash over Faust. The manic tension drained from his shoulders, his trembling stilled. He took in a shuddering breath and let out a laugh. “Not that same trick again. I am going to get arrested anyway.” His voice had gone flat, empty of the rage that had consumed him moments before. “Why don’t you tell me what my punishment is?”

  “I cannot answer that question, but you can be assured that our judicial system is different from what you are familiar with,” answered Dante.

  “Aww…” Faust sighed wistfully. “So I have a chance of a fair trial?”

  Dante’s vision turned red briefly. It was involuntary, a knee-jerk reflex.

  Faust's remaining hand whipped forward in a crude, desperate throw. Something small and jagged sailed through the air.

  A rock.

  The rock struck Dante’s gloved hand with a sharp crack. Scarlet tore off his glove just in time before it exploded into ribbons of leather. Thankfully, he had a spare glove in his jacket pocket, which Scarlet jammed over his fingers.

  Ocular form. Dante silently shifted his Regalia over his face. Please don’t bother about me.

  “You are just like an open book,” Faust remarked as he got into a peculiar stance, spreading his legs out and twisting his torso around like he was stretching. “Your ability hinges on your feelings. An outward manifestation, perhaps?”

  “Did it take a missing arm to realise that?” Dante asked with equal sarcasm.

  Faust’s eyebrow ticked upwards. “Gretchen mentioned your nickname, but didn’t go into the specifics of your ability. I must say that ‘The Crimson Glint’ is quite the nickname.”

  Gretchen. That must be his mistress, Dante thought. I underestimated the level of information he had about us.

  Dante visualised the twelve points he had to strike with Scarlet’s Ocular form. Twelve points blazed like embers beneath the skin – nodes of Cursed Essence that pulsed and shifted with each heartbeat, each breath, each desperate movement. They glowed brighter than the surrounding flesh, standing out in stark relief against the crimson haze. In the middle of it all was Faust’s core, glowing the most brilliantly. Shifting meridian points were a trademark of Cursed Essence as opposed to cut-and-dry textbook positions of non-users.

  The Essence’s angular momentum, Dante memorised. The points’ future positions, he predicted. Twelve targets. All moving. All mapped in crimson light behind his eyes. The lines drawn would draw the array that sealed Faust.

  “You never had a trial, did you?” Faust asked. “Your guard came down for a moment then, didn’t it? Don’t be such a clamshell! Pray tell! Tell me your sins! Who did you kill?!”

  Dante saw red. The embers fizzled out. A ripple spread across the barrier as Indifference wavered. He gritted his teeth so hard that he bared them. “I wished I had a mirror!” Faust threw his head back and laughed. “You should see your face! That was the same face your dear boy made just now!” He dragged his fingers down his cheeks. “It was glorious!”

  In the next moment, Dante buried the pommel of his blade into Faust’s face, bashing his lower jaw out of alignment. “Shut up,” he snarled. “I hate it when dogs like you yap.”

  The whip slashed thin air as Faust darted away. Bones snapped together as he stitched his face back together. “A rather harsh label. My words did bear some truth, after all. Are we both looking for redemption? No—absolution!"

  Absolution. It was a word that made Dante’s insides twist tightly. He rained slashes on Faust. Hollow Sparrow’s shrieks were enough to dull the pulsating pain in his head and drown out Faust’s continued mockery.

  With every swing of Hollow Sparrow, flakes of Essence showered them. The cold, glittering pieces melted from the heat on their skins—Faust’s flared with the intensity from the continued assault, Dante’s simmered with brewing anger.

  Not once did Dante notice that Scarlet snapping back around his hand as a ring.

  Two cracks rang through the air.

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  Dante’s cheek split open from jaw to cheekbone, the wound gaping like a second mouth. Faust seemed as though he had been ripped away and slammed into the wall by an invisible force. There was a scalpel in his hand, but its blade was clean.

  The realisation struck Dante with cold clarity: his Regalia had struck him. His irritation had clouded his judgment. Indifference had been failing rapidly in the seconds that he had wasted on assaulting Faust. The additional defence that should have been second nature, impenetrable, had flaked away. No semblance of a seal had been formed on Faust either.

  Unforgivable. Scarlet was right to punish.

  Blood ran hot down Dante’s neck, soaking into his collar. He could feel the wound pulling with each small flex of his jaw. He slowed his heart, forcing the frantic rhythm to settle. One breath. Two. Deep and measured, drawing air through his nose, letting it fill his lungs before releasing it in a controlled exhale.

  Faust was merely a good guesser. All he did was make assumptions and happen to connect the dots in the most clichéd, but correct, way to form a predictable story.

  But it was merely a small part of a larger narrative.

  Faust knew nothing.

  With that, Indifference arose once more.

  Dante drew his Regalia with deliberate slowness, letting the blade catch the light. With a flourish, he whirled it, the sword singing through the air in a controlled arc. Faust staggered to his feet, his eyes sharpening.

  For a moment, there was only the sound of blood pattering onto concrete.

  Dante exploded forward.

  The gap between them vanished in an instant. Faust’s eyes lasered in on Hollow Sparrow, scalpel at the ready. Dante swung, bringing the blade up close towards Faust’s midriff. As expected, a counter from Faust. Dante’s hand loosened around Hollow Sparrow. Faust’s eyes widened. His breathing hitched as he twisted his body to avoid the whip that was swiftly brandished, eager to exploit all possible openings.

  The blade reversed course mid-fall, shooting upward. Hollow Sparrow slammed into Faust's chin with a crack.

  In the seconds that ticked, Dante landed eleven blows. The first collapsed Faust's knee. The third folded him. The seventh – a vicious strike to his neck – sent him reeling. By the eleventh, Faust was on the ground on his back. The threads of Essence that had burst from each meridian point wrapped around Faust's limbs and pulled taut simultaneously, spreading his limbs into a perfect upside-down Y.

  For the last blow, Dante slammed the heel of his palm into Faust’s sternum.

  The ground shattered under Faust.

  But not Faust’s grin.

  “Bleargh.” Faust’s jaw unhinged, revealing a core that sat on his tongue, tethered by stitches. He playfully swallowed it, and it zipped past the back of his eyes, splitting into two.

  Core manipulation?! Dante snapped upright. Scarlet jerked back his own head in the nick of time as beams of Cursed Essence shot from the cores, grazing his chin. The seal shattered, its prerequisites unmet. The core had slipped from its grasp.

  A burst of pain shot up Dante’s right arm. Under him, Faust’s mouth was twisted in a hyena’s snarl as he shoved his scalpel deeper into his bicep. Indifference erupted outward in a violent pulse, the force slamming Faust into the ground and throwing Dante backwards. He landed in a crouch several feet away, the scalpel still embedded in his arm. Blood soaked through his sleeve, hot and sticky.

  Crap, what an oversight! Dante bit down on his lip as he yanked the blade out of his arm. If not for his quick reaction, Faust’s ability would have kicked in and he would have lost an arm. He readied his blade, formulating his next move. I’ll cut off his he–

  “JOHANN FAAAUST!” Ace’s cry cut through the air.

  A steed rammed into Faust, the impact sending him sprawling. Ace leapt off his Vision, hitting the ground in a crouch. The young sorcerer bared his fangs and struck Faust with his staff viciously. On command, Scarlet jumped in to tie itself around Faust’s ankle and hoisted him up high in the air before slamming him to the ground. His hands moved in rapid gestures as a distorted elephant materialised. It reared up before bringing its massive foot down on Faust's limp body with a sickening crunch.

  Ace let out a scream. It was filled with an anguish that Dante was so familiar with. It was a wonder that he did not take off his armour despite all of it. “Scarlet!” Dante commanded. The Regalia shot forward, coiling around Faust's ankle like a serpent. It yanked him up high into the air, snatching his broken body away from Ace’s stampede.

  Around Faust’s neck! Dante clenched his jaw as another black tendril crept down Faust's body, coiling around his throat like a noose. It was now or never. Ace needed an outlet for his rage, and Faust had more than earned this end.

  “Ace! Tear off his head!”

  The rubble exploded outward. The head of a lion burst through concrete, its mane streaming with Essence. Its jaws engulfed Faust’s head. There was a sickening crunch as teeth met bone, then sinew snapped and flesh tore. The beast wrenched backwards, ripping Faust's head clean off his body in a spray of blood. As the rest of its body leapt free of the debris, Dante did a double-take. The Merlion?!

  The Merlion promptly spat out Faust’s head like rotten meat. Faust’s head rolled off its tongue and stopped right at Dante’s feet. Dante made sure that Faust could at least see the small smirk of pride that danced on his lips.

  “Useful,” Dante commended Ace.

  ***

  What’s this? Faust weakly regarded the creature that hovered over him. They came eye to eye for a moment before its head dissolved into a shower of blue orbs. As it faded away, he found himself staring at Dante Higashino and his protégé.

  “He’s still alive?!” Ace exclaimed, gritting his teeth. “Even after all that?!”

  “He juggles his core, like the cuck he is.” Dante crossed his arms across his chest. “I left his vocal cords intact.” He reached down. Faust felt warm fingers dig into his scalp “I suppose that this would be enough for them.”

  The world tilted as Faust deafened himself with his own screams. He gnashed and ground his teeth at the thought of that bloody abomination Dante’s brat summoned. It had the body of a fish and the head of a lion – the bottom and the top of the food chain, respectively.

  I spent weeks cultivating my strength! I was meant to be man’s salvation! Their redemption! I could move the dead! Faust wanted to scream, but the obsidian whip began to circle his head, clamping his mouth shut first. I could give the world the impossible!

  What started as exploring the hidden potential of life beyond death had grown on him so much that merely giving such power out for free was a mockery.

  A tool he would not become.

  He would be king, and the lands conquered with his armies would become a haven immune from the permanence of death.

  But the memory of Dante’s sly smirk sliced through Faust’s vision. He continued screaming through sealed lips. I AM THE SECOND COMING! THE SECOND! THE SECOND! THE SECOND! THE SECOND!

  “Herr Dr. Johann Faust.”

  Faust stilled when he heard Gretchen’s voice in his ear – a voice from the heavens, as sweet as honey. “Can you still hear me?” she asked.

  He let out a stymied screech full of naked fury. Gretchen tutted and sang into his ear, “There, there. I am solely responsible for your predicament, for I have not told you about the Regalia.”

  Regalia?!

  “Mhm. Especially this one around your head,” Gretchen chuckled. “It is not as pure as you would think a Regalia should be, and the hand it latches on to is just as cursed. If you hit the right chords, I can bend it. The Regalia, I mean. I’ll let Narcissus handle its master.”

  Bend the Regalia? Faust echoed quietly.

  “Yes. But only for an infinitesimal moment.” Faust could picture Gretchen’s smirk. “Of course. This is something that only you and I know. Even its current master isn’t aware of this.” She let out a soft, knowing laugh. "My say far precedes those residing in the Scarlet Sands, for there was an age when it belonged to me."

  Do it, Faust implored. Destroy it if you must!

  "But of course, you must give it your all afterwards.”

  I will! I swear on it!

  Power slammed into Faust like a tidal wave. The muscles in his face twitched and spasmed as Gretchen's essence flooded every cell, every nerve ending alight with ecstasy and agony. Too much. It was too much.

  But Faust took all of Gretchen and began reshaping her into something divine, terrible, and his.