Chapter 25: The Cost Of A Mistake

  Erik came to an unknown amount of time later. The light of day hadn’t changed much. Erik could only hear the whirring of helicopter rotors somewhere nearby. The strong winds that hit his face were sublime. He’d regained enough energy to get back up on his knees and looked around after he did so.

  He had been mistaken; connecting a power to his willpower had helped. If he hadn’t found the strength to keep pushing against the beast, he’d be dead twice over.

  This was a clear eye-opener to him. He wasn’t strong enough. Not yet. After going over Emma and Angela’s haul of crystals, he’d absorb enough to at least fill out his major power slots, maybe more, until the number of things he could do was enough to get him out of most situations.

  Right now, one mistake, like forgetting his bag, could be the end of him. Even when he had it with him, what if he used up all the stuff in there in the middle of a fight? He was too reliant on it.

  He needed more abilities. Without the hurting man realising it, the chopper had landed somewhere close, and a big man was already carrying him in his arms. Erik’s torn open back hurt like hell as the man carrying him was applying pressure across his back, but it didn’t seem to matter to Erik at all. The next thing he knew, he was already in the air inside the chopper.

  “Erik?” he heard as he was starting to regain his senses. He opened his eyes, but saw nothing but white for the first while. He looked around, only seeing blurry colours around him. “Erik!”

  Someone was talking to him. Had he fallen asleep? Last thing he knew, he was in a fire. Was it his mother calling for him? No, that wasn’t right. She was there, in the fire. He remembered the screams as she ran in panic, her body alight with flames.

  The fire was odd. It had been covered in black sparks. It spread fast, and it spread straight towards him. The flames hunted him, and he ran away from them. They were faster and surrounded him before they consumed him. Did he survive? How could he? If he survived, then how had he met his friend? That didn’t make sense either.

  Other flames entered his memory, these bright red. They were contained in a cage, dancing around. They didn’t mind being caged. How could they? They wouldn’t dance if they felt captive. The surrounding bars started to melt. That’s right. They were trapped, but they wanted to escape. They had to melt the bars to do that. A moment later, they vanished, and Erik saw only white again.

  “Erik!”

  Erik looked over again. His mind suddenly cleared as he recognised the woman hanging over him.

  “Angela?”

  “Oh, thank god. You’ve been out for hours. How are you feeling?” Angela said, sitting back down by his side. Erik looked around again, seeing that he was in his hotel room.

  “How did I get back here?” he asked.

  “Amir brought you. He stopped by the air base to pick up a small medical team cleared by the brigadier, and they brought you here. The base isn’t ready yet, and there’s a big commotion happening after your fight in Cambridge. It wasn’t safe for you to stay there. So, they brought you back here.”

  “Oh, yeah. That didn’t go quite as planned. What’s the commotio- ow!” Erik started, then felt a stinging, aching pain across his back as he attempted sitting up.

  “Lie down! You heal fast, but at least wait a day. They’ve just finished stitching up your wound on your back. Seeing that you were already healing up, they just took the worst parts of the wound. You need to relax. Your entire body is bruised, and you have several broken bones.”

  Erik lay back down with a frown. “What’s the commotion about?”

  “Obviously, the Hellbeasts’ bodies have been discovered. It’s breaking news all over the world already.”

  “I see. With the air base so close, along with a few others, they’re facing scrutiny for hiding a way to kill the beasts?” Erik guessed.

  “Not at all. The bodies aren’t the biggest news going around,” Angela said, almost carefully. She nodded over to the TV and Erik turned his head. There he was.

  The part shown on the news channel as he turned was the part where Erik flew out of the house, crashing through the wall. The camera rocked, and the voice of a middle-aged man woah-ed off-camera.

  Next, Erik fell forward, grabbed something small, and then the beast’s ripping open caused blood and viscera to cover him from his legs down. The man’s narration turned both horrified and ecstatic.

  When the second dog stepped on and tore into Erik, the man cried ‘no, no, no’ with a breaking voice.

  Next, the dog retreated in what seemed like fear, cowering some distance away. The cameraman was confused, but he narrated what he was seeing, some hundred metres away. A sudden dread came over him unlike anything he’d ever sensed before. He mentioned feeling that he wasn’t supposed to exist. His camera shuddered, and the clip faintly showed Erik crawling to the house before he stood back up, clambering to the wall.

  By now, his aura had stopped reaching so far, and the man had calmed both from the release of Erik’s aura, and that the fighting man was still alive. It was hard to make out the rest, but Erik was tossing something at the dog, not making even the slightest of impact.

  The dog closed in on the man instead. The amateur cameraman seemed to want Erik to stop throwing things at the maddened beast, and when Erik fell over, the man declared the man dead right then and there. That was until the man lobbed something once more, and the item grew to massive proportions, resembling a wheel or a saw.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  It spun rapidly and headed straight towards the beast. The whirring blade, audible even on camera, buzzed straight through the beast without a hint of resistance. The hound split apart right at its centre and landed on the ground in front of the wounded—maybe even dead—man.

  “That right there is a hero!” the man cried, still holding his camera towards Erik’s body.

  The man moved no more. Ten seconds later, the clip ended, and a news presenter’s face showed up on screen. They explained the clip as if it hadn’t just been shown and followed up with a new clip that proved the reality of the first, this one captured by professionals. It showed the aftermath from up close. Erik looked back at Angela.

  “Oh…” was all he said.

  “Lucky for us, the quality is substandard, and the zoom doesn’t do the footage any favours. That, and the mask you were wearing doesn’t give anyone anything to recognise you by. Also, a lot of people think you’re dead, but since there are no reports about your body being found, it’s a topic with conspiracies abound. Jessie’s been notified, and she’s rushing back. Emma is with Amir and Sophie. She’s doing what she can to console her.”

  “I see. What’s the common consensus out there?” Erik asked, wanting to focus on the easier parts of his developing life.

  “You’re either an alien or got some advanced tech with some kind of special metals available. Some think your fight was a trial run from some corporation to test out their new weapons.

  “The man who filmed you is anonymous, at least for now. We don’t know if he saw you get picked up by Amir, or if he had left the area by then. He’s only shared the footage, not given any statements. I’m guessing that might change over the next couple of days as well.

  “We’re clear to proceed as intended, but things might complicate further. We should lie low for a while, at least in this area. I’m in talks with Major MacLeod about us clearing up areas in other parts of the world. There’s no avoiding the fact that you need to get stronger… and you should let Sophie see you. She’s got it into her head that you’re dying, no matter what we tell her. She needs to see that you’re okay,” she said.

  “I know we should get stronger. I made one mistake, and this is the result,” Erik said, gesturing to himself.

  “Don’t ignore me,” Angela said with a deeper than usual voice.

  “I’m not. She’s part of the mistake. I don’t have time to deal with the drama. I care for her, I really do, but I can’t let this-”

  “Where’s your bag?” Angela interjected.

  “By the door,” Erik said, pointing to the clear floor where he thought his bag would be. He turned with a groan to look around his room.

  “It isn’t here. Don’t blame your inexperience on her. She tried giving it to you, but you were already gone. The girl’s blaming herself and she deserves better than you blaming her as well,” Angela said. Her stern voice and eyes made it clear she was serious.

  “She does,” Erik sighed. “Let me rest up first, though.”

  “I’m only saying this as your friend, you know that right?” Angela said as she rose from the chair beside his bed.

  “Thank you, Angela.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Angela said, now a sinister smile accompanying her still stern eyes. She tapped a few times on her phone and put it up to her ear. “Let her in,” she said, and hung up the call.

  “That’s evil,” Erik groaned. He sat up to greet Sophie, who was already sprinting down the hallway, judging by the sounds. Angela opened the door, and the younger blonde entered with a huff.

  Her eyes were just as red as they were when he saw her last. Sophie looked Erik up and down with a critical gaze as Angela left and shut the door behind her.

  Return.

  The simple command was all it thought of.

  Return.

  It was all it could think of. It had always had just the one thought at once, though there were differences. Go there. If unable, try later. Destroy. Patrol. It always acted on its thoughts. Its commitment was unwavering. All its thoughts were orders from its Master. It couldn’t disappoint Master.

  Never had the Hellbeast been told to return before, though. It would be punished, it was sure. It was a feeling deep within its cloudy mind; it had disappointed Master.

  The prey. Something was different this time. It had fought back. Prey was not supposed to do that. It had damaged the Hellbeast, even. That must be why the Hellbeast’s master now ordered it to go home. For the first time since it had spawned, it had failed in its duty. Punishment was coming up, it just knew.

  The smell of its own blood didn’t go away. All smells did, but even while its bleeding had stopped, the smell was still ever-present. A putrid stench, surpassing the blood of metal creatures or prey that had trespassed its patrol route.

  The Hellbeast experienced several new thoughts and feelings after its fight against the surprisingly resistant prey. It couldn’t comprehend everything it tried to, like the shame of its failed hunt and the trepidation of what its Master would do to it when it returned.

  Return.

  The order still loomed inside its head, breaking any chance of new thoughts taking root. It couldn’t know that its basic mind was being suppressed, that it was being forcefully cut short of its potential. Thoughts of such complexity were far from possible.

  Its bloodied, beaten face and cracked skull had made it all the way back. The Master was so close it could smell him now. The Master’s scent somehow overpowered the lingering stench of its own failing. Such was the Master’s power. It even overpowered the horrid stench of its spawner.

  “Interesting,” said Master, placing his hand on the still-healing bruises that scarred the Hellbeast’s face.

  Was this from the man he’d seen through another’s eyes? If it was…

  The beast didn’t respond. It just snarled calmly, not understanding that it was suddenly studied so intently.

  “What an opportune time to come limping home, little whelp. I’ve been looking to try something out.” Master then said. “Let’s see first…”

  Suddenly the Hellbeast roused, using its damaged olfactory organ to sniff the air, to taste the lingering scents around. It rumbled from its throat as it found what it was suddenly searching for.

  Search.

  Sniff sniff. It found the slightest hint of its previous prey. Sniff sniff. It was pretty far off, but the Hellbeast found it could follow this lingering presence as far as it needed to.

  “Good. Next, let’s see about making some changes.”

  Then, with an invisible leash, the Hellbeast followed its Master to the spawning cave. It reeked of blood, flesh, and skin as puss, and unimaginable fluids all poured from its spawner like a river of filth.

  Enter.

  The slightest tinge of understanding dawned on it just then. It was an instinctual knowledge that it had been chosen for something odd, something new. Something grotesque in order for it to better serve its Master.

  The wounded Hellhound crawled back into its birth site, howling as its bones started creaking, cracking and bending from an onslaught of mysterious forces it could never understand. Impossible pressure both squeezed and stretched it. It eventually grew accustomed to the pain as its body was ravaged beyond understanding.

  Finally, it was reborn. Master was still there, though smaller now. A new tear formed in the fleshy cesspool that was its spawner, a whiny groan accompanying it.

  The Hellbeast knew, then, that it had finally been deemed successful in Master’s eyes. It had become more than its brethren. More powerful, more dangerous. More capable of serving Master and his whims.

  “Now, then…”

  Hunt.

  Its eyes glazed over and it saw red. It dashed out of the cave, leaving its smaller brethren confused in its wake before they, too, received new orders. To the best of their ability, some started following behind the Hellbeast and its scarred face.

  This time it would take down its prey. It couldn’t lose this time, not with Master’s new blessing coursing through its entire body. This time, it couldn’t lose.