CLANG… Tap!
CLA-Tap! Tap! Tap!
The broad figure halted in the empty alley, his lungs heaving. He stood frozen, only a few feet from the corner where the last static afterimage of the grey-haired boy had just vanished from his sight.
He spun his body and saw the thin figure, his partner, now staggering. His harsh coughs and breathing sounded loud and broken. His blood vessels now looked like roots spreading across his body. His muscles were rigid, each step accompanied by the wet, sickening sound of his shoe soles scraping against the damp cobblestones beneath his feet.
"You said left, you idiot!" He hissed, his voice filled with frustration because the boy had played them, and with anger at their failure. But fear also radiated from his eyes as he looked at the thin figure's condition.
"Tch…" the broad figure spat, then approached the thin figure.
"Hey, Will. You look bad, we have to—"
COUGH!
"I—I'm fine, damn it!" Will cut off the broad figure with a severe cough. He clutched his left arm, scratching his skin hard as if he wanted to tear it. His movements grew rougher than just a Phantom Itch—it was as if something was moving beneath his skin.
"Calm down, man. That damn kid tricked us," the broad figure tried to reassure himself and Will.
Will fell silent. The hand that had been scratching his arm now stopped abruptly, with a violent tremor throughout his body. He stared straight at the corner in front of them, but his eyes seemed to penetrate reality. Inside his head, he still saw the grey-haired boy looking at them with a smirk on his face, laughing at them and disappearing. The event repeated continuously like a broken record in his head, a tormenting contradiction to his Vessel.
No. My eyes cannot be wrong. I saw him… I saw that damn kid's strand of grey hair being blown by the wind at that corner. My instinct is part of my strength! If my instinct is wrong, then... then what is inside my head now?
Something inside him rejected the truth.
Will began to shake his head, slowly at first, then faster until the sound of his neck bones rattled gruesomely. He clutched his own head, his dirty nails piercing his temporal skin until fresh blood began to seep out.
The itch now moved. It was no longer in his arm, but felt like thousands of ants were chewing on the nerves behind his eyeballs. He started to laugh softly, a laugh that contained no humor at all and sounded unpleasant.
If he's not here... it means this world is lying to me.
Yes... this world is deceiving my instincts...
"I—I'm right!
"Mike, you saw it too, right!" His voice, which had sounded like shards of glass, now sounded shattered. He looked at the corner with his brown eyes now widened, followed by his blood vessels which were now even more severely prominent.
"HE'S THERE!" he lunged forward towards Mike.
"MIKE, YOU SAW IT TOO, RIGHT? ISN'T THAT RIGHT?!" His trembling thin hand now gripped Mike's coat collar with impossible strength. Mike stumbled backward, his back hitting the cold, damp brick wall.
Thud!
The sound was muffled by the faded red brick wall, and for Mike, it was a sign of death. Will's face was now only inches from his. The sharp smell of rusty blood and an unnatural heat wafted from his partner's breath, sweeping over Mike's face.
"Hey, Will... control yourself! Look at me!" Mike snapped, trying to stabilize his voice which was starting to shake. He grabbed Will's wrist, trying to release his partner's iron claw-like grip.
"Damn it, Will! Control your mind, idiot!" he drew a heavy breath, yanking his wrist once more.
Will did not hear. His brown eyes were now wide open until the whites were filled with a network of ruptured blood vessels. He did not blink at all. His pupils trembled violently, as if trying to process two different images of reality in his head.
"LOOK, HE'S LAUGHING, MIKE!" he rambled with a voice that started to become uncomfortably high-pitched. Thick saliva began to ooze from his blue lips.
"Hey! Snap out of it, you idiot!" Mike shouted, now covered in cold sweat pouring down his temples.
Mike could feel Will's pulse in his wrist. The pulse no longer felt like a human heartbeat, it was fast and irregular. Beneath Will's arm skin, Mike could see something protruding like a root or a worm quickly crawling towards Will's neck.
"Will, let go... you're hurting me," he mumbled, this time pleadingly. Will's fingers began to pierce through the layers of his coat, pressing against Mike's collarbone until a faint cracking sound was heard.
Suddenly, Will's laughter stopped. The silence that followed was much more terrifying than his screams.
Will tilted his head slowly, very slowly, until his ear almost touched his own shoulder. The sound of stretching muscles sounded like tearing fabric.
"Mike…" Will whispered. His voice now sounded double, as if another sound, deeper and hoarser was echoing from within his chest.
"Why... why does my skin feel so tight?" Will released his grip on Mike's coat, but not because he was calm. Both of his hands started moving wildly towards his own chest. He began to scratch, his dirty nails starting to rip open his shirt buttons, then penetrating his own skin.
SQUELCH… TEAR!
The sound of tearing fabric changed to the sound of sliced flesh. Mike was fixated, his eyes wide open watching Will's fingertips tear into his own chest, as if the skin were merely fragile wet paper. Will did not wince. Instead, a long sigh—almost like a sound of pleasure—escaped from the gap in his blue lips.
"Ahhh… Finally…"
The air in the dead-end alley was suddenly filled with a soft hissing sound. At first, it sounded like thousands of insects flapping their wings, but slowly it turned into overlapping whispers that Mike did not recognize.
To beCOme One… to BEcome one..
Thick, dark black fluid emerged from the tear in Will's chest. The fluid pulsed. And from within the hole in his chest, something began to swell.
It was no longer a human organ. A skinless mass of flesh filled with fine veins began to overflow. The mass moved, creeping onto the surface of Will's coat, extending towards the brick wall behind Mike like a hungry root seeking soil.
"Will! Snap out of it!" Mike shouted. Instinctively, he activated his Molding Ability. Mike's arm suddenly hardened, his skin changing color to a pale red blending with the wall behind him with a density stronger than brick, like concrete.
Mike threw his fist with all his might towards the mass of flesh that was starting to cover Will's face.
SQUELCH!
The punch went deep, but there was no sound of breaking bone. Mike's fist was instead swallowed into the soft, hot pile of flesh.
"Damn it! Let go!" Mike tried to pull his hand away, but the mass of flesh actually wrapped around his arm, slowly sucking his hand in.
to BEcome oNE… to BEcome one..
Will whispered the sentence again. Mike, who did not understand, now felt every inch of his skin that touched Will's flesh beginning to whisper to him, followed by a creeping itch.
Will's face began to melt. His brown eyes sank into his softening skull cavity, replaced by small holes emitting hot steam. His jaw shifted, lengthening downwards to tear his own cheeks, creating a large hole that only contained a constantly spinning mass of muscle.
Suddenly, a tendon as thick as a steel cable lashed out from the mass of flesh on Will's chest.
SNAP!
The tendon slammed into the wall right beside Mike's ear, then immediately split into thousands of fine fibers that quickly crawled into the brick crevices. In seconds, the cold wall behind Mike began to be covered by a layer of pulsating muscle tissue. The hard red brick was now replaced with something soft and warm, as if the entire alley was turning into part of a giant organ.
Mike concentrated his entire focus to trigger Molding to the extreme, trying to borrow the density of the stone foundation beneath his feet to generate Physical Propulsion, a similar burst of physical pressure as when chasing the grey-haired boy which should have been able to launch himself. However, every time he hardened, Will's flesh softened into a hot liquid that seeped into the gaps of his clothes, and then immediately locked back with a tighter pressure. The harder Mike tried to become stone, the easier the elastic flesh was to shackle him, as if the flesh knew what Mike was about to do.
to BEcome oNE… to BEcome one..
The mass of flesh began to wrap around Mike, slowly creeping over his entire body. Mike could feel an extraordinary heat, followed by a deadly coldness as the nerves from Will's flesh began to try to "connect" into his skin pores. This was assimilation.
"N-no… Will… stop—"
Mike's voice was cut short as a foul-smelling tendril of flesh entered his mouth, silencing his screams forever. The flesh continued to grow, crawling up to cover the red brick wall all the way to the top, dragging Mike's helpless body to merge with the structure of the alley.
to BEcome…
Slowly, Mike's broad body was no longer visible as he had been completely absorbed into the horrifying flesh on the alley wall. Will had lost his human form, transforming into a shapeless mass of flesh that was frozen and continued to breathe softly in the foul silence of the morning. Amidst the pulsating folds of flesh, remnants of Mike's thick coat jutted out randomly like a fused layer of skin, while Mike's face and eyeballs, wide with eternal horror, and rigid, clawing fingertips peered out from the crevices of the flesh mass, becoming a silent monument to the inevitable assimilation.
oNE…
...
..
Click.
The spring sound of a silver pocket watch being snapped shut echoed softly in the narrow space of the horse-drawn carriage. Behind the tightly closed window, the shadows of the soot-covered old buildings of Columbus Port faintly passed by.
The man tidied his neatly combed, golden-blond hair, although a few strands fell naturally to cover his forehead, giving a rebellious impression behind his official uniform. With a sharp jawline and keen eyes, he looked more like a soldier than a bureaucratic official. He wore a dark grey, thigh-length coat that fit his sturdy body, with a high collar that gave a cold and untouchable impression.
He took a long breath. The scent of leather carriage seats and the remnants of a cold, masculine perfume, a sharp sandalwood aroma, filled his lungs, trying to dispel the lingering smell of death that had already begun to be detected even from a few blocks away. He stared at the hands of his pocket watch behind the glass, which showed twelve fifty minutes past. The September sun had briefly shone brightly right at noon, but in Columbus Capital, the light was now covered by grey clouds, and light always felt like a borrowed commodity that could be withdrawn at any time.
The carriage slowed, then stopped with a single jolt. The noise of the residents outside began to seep into the cabin, whispers of fear, shouts from Officers telling citizens to stand back, and local rumors.
He put his pocket watch back into his coat, straightened his black leather gloves, and opened the carriage door.
As soon as his feet stepped onto the wet stone road, he immediately put on his tall hat; a sharp, foul smell immediately assailed him. He stepped over the rope barricade without needing to show the silver badge under his coat.
He walked into the dark alley. His boots stepped on dark red slime with a disgusting squelch. At the middle of the alley, the flesh stood upright, like a frozen dead tree of flesh on the red brick wall.
"Report, Inspector Leon," an Officer approached, in a stiff dark blue uniform, his hand holding a small notebook.
"The incident is estimated to have occurred two hours ago," the Officer continued.
Leon clicked his tongue softly, a small gesture that hinted at his dissatisfaction. He did not immediately reply. He stood silently in front of the shapeless mass of flesh. His eyes scanned the surroundings.
"Victim identity?" Leon asked curtly, his voice heavy and calm.
The Officer cleared his throat, trying to ignore the pungent, metallic odor.
"Mike Allen, twenty-eight years old. Officially recorded as a Phase One Matter Uniqueness user. And the one assimilated into this wall is identified as his partner, William Miller, thirty years old, a Flesh Uniqueness user."
Leon walked deeper into the alley.
"Based on the remaining flesh, Will suffered a Vessel Collapse from his Stage One Uniqueness, which resulted in the assimilation of his partner, Mike. They were also recorded to have committed several minor crimes."
Leon narrowed his eyes. He then crouched near the pool of slime. There, between the cracks in the stones, he saw wet black grains, but their aroma was still very sharp for his trained sense of smell. He pinched a bit of the powder with the tip of his leather glove, bringing it close to his nose.
Pepper…
Leon brought the black fragment close to his nose once more, letting the stinging spicy aroma penetrate his senses. A thin, almost imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of his firm lips.
"Black pepper," he murmured. He stood up straight, looking at the mass of flesh still frozen on the brick wall.
"Officer, do you see this?" Leon pointed to the tear in the mass of flesh.
"He didn't just lose control due to Vessel Collapse. He was triggered. Someone threw a very simple physical irritant, this pepper—" he chuckled, his eyes now looking at the Officer who stood slightly away from the mass of flesh.
"It's a very unique, clever, and cruel trigger for a Vessel Collapse." His eyes returned to look at the mass of flesh in front of him.
"Who could think of such a crazy idea, Inspector?" The Officer swallowed hard, his face pale looking at the monument of flesh in front of him.
"Someone with a wild intuition," Leon replied, straightening his black leather gloves.
"Clean up this place. Call the sanitation team from the chemical division. I don't want any remaining flesh left around this port area." He shook his head and stepped out of the alley, leaving the smell of death and returning to the cold, salty air of Columbus Port.
"I'm going to visit an old friend," Leon continued to the Officer. Outside the alley, there were Officers who were already preparing water to clean the remaining slime from his shoes.
He signaled the driver of his horse-drawn carriage.
"To the Old Quarter," he ordered curtly.
The horse-drawn carriage rolled off, cutting through the faded density of Columbus Port towards the elegance and tranquility of the Old Quarter. Inside the gently rocking cabin, Leon took out his pocket watch.
He leaned his back against the seat, thinking about the black pepper grains. He smiled again and exhaled as if he couldn't believe the results of his brief investigation. He still couldn't believe a kitchen spice caused someone to experience a Vessel Collapse. Leon needed another perspective to understand such a mindset.
A few minutes later, the carriage stopped on the clean cobblestone street. The pungent scent of pine greeted Leon as he stepped down. Leon walked along the sidewalk past houses with neat stone fences. He stopped in front of a wooden door with a shiny brass doorknob.
He took off his tall hat, letting his golden-blond hair be blown by the cool wind of the Old Quarter. He knocked on the door three times.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Leon waited at the doorstep, his sharp blue eyes staring at the wooden door.
After a brief, lingering silence, the door hinges creaked softly. The door opened, revealing the silhouette of a woman behind the warm light of the room.
Her long, honey-blonde hair was woven into a graceful, thick braid, framed by small round glasses. Florence Faraday, Lucien's aunt, stood at the threshold. The expression on her face, usually enveloped by the focus of an academic, now looked slightly surprised, changing into a faint smile. Her warm blue eyes met Leon's sharp blue eyes.
"Leon," Florence greeted, her tone calm but with a hint of curiosity tucked within.
"I didn't expect you to come here during work hours."
Leon returned the greeting with a faint, cold smile.
"I need an expert's perspective, Flo. I have my first case of Vessel Collapse this month."
Florence raised an eyebrow, her expression now returning to that of a curious academic. She stepped aside from the door, gesturing for Leon to enter.
"Come in. It's been a long time." Florence welcomed him warmly.
Leon stepped over the threshold, handing his hat and thick coat to Florence. The warm scent of pine and herbs immediately greeted him, very different from the fishy, disgusting smell of flesh. The wooden door closed again, leaving the cold of the Old Quarter behind it.