Chapter 11: ch11

Calling it consciousness was a stretch, however, there was a point when Zeirdin knew he was still alive. Through the mental fog, the light of consciousness grew, like a pinhole of light in a black fabric sheet. With consciousness came pain. Zeirdin’s entire torso ached intensely, each breath bringing a new wave of pain. His tongue had never felt so starved of moisture, nearing the texture of paper. Blood caked his face in a sticky second skin.

With much difficulty, Zeirdin slowly opened his blood-caked eyes. Apparently, he had sustained a head wound he had no memory of receiving. Or had he? Zeirdin realized he lacked the pounding headache that signified head trauma. The blood he wore was not his. He guessed that an hour or two had passed since his nearly successful escape. His hands and feet remained unbound. This was a surprise. Zeirdin looked around. He was in a small empty closet that was nearly completely devoid of all light. The only source of light was a dim blue light coming from under the door. The smooth concrete of the floor slowly absorbed his body heat. He could hear faint voices in the distance. He could make out most of what they were saying.

“What are we going to… about the kid?”, One voice said.

“Well, we checked… no safebrick strapped to him like they usually do. Chuck ‘im down the chute ‘fore… wakes up.”

“Shouldn’t we do that soo-”,

“Ayyyy, loosen up newbieeee. Let’s finish this bottle. Fer cryin’ out loud, he ain’t wakin’ up ‘nee time soon. I’m Level 2 and I hit ‘im with a liver shot.”

The voices faded. So, that man was a level two…who were these people? Zeirdin slowly got to his feet, hugging the wall. Every fiber of muscle in his body ached from physical trauma, as well as having much more mana pumped through them way faster than they were used to. The door to the closet did not have a handle on the inside. Zeirdin gave it a push to no avail. It was probably plywood reinforced with steel. Things were not looking good at all.

This realization slowly washed over him, like a cool wave. His chest felt like it was going to implode in on itself. He had no weapons, his natural mana stores were nearly empty, and he didn’t know if he could gather any mana. On top of that, this time there was nothing stopping them from gunning him down on sight. All he had was the element of surprise, and that was only if he could get the door open. Zeirdin scratched at his face. The dried blood was itchy.

All he could do was see if he could use Lovac again. Fuck. Zeirdin wished he knew how to or could make spells that could help him. He had finally been able to use Lovac while moving. The first time was always the hardest, so if he could circulate mana in the first place, he had a chance.

Zeirdin sat cross-legged on the concrete ground in deep concentration. His torso ached badly, but he pushed the pain to the side. He slowly accumulated mana from the atmosphere, forming it into a vortex within him. He’d already slipped a few times and lost what he had gathered. He couldn’t afford to lose any more of it. His natural mana stores were already low, and he lost more each time he slipped since atmospheric mana needed personal mana to bind to.

From a small trickle, a raging current began to form again. He slowly spread the current through his body, until it reached all his limbs. While his meridians ached from overuse, he felt invigorated. Now, he had to hold the stillness in his mind. Slowly, he stood up. Opening and closing his hands, Zeirdin remained standing and weighed his options. From what he knew for sure that there were at least two people in the warehouse. There were most likely more. He now knew that they had mistaken him for Jin because they were looking for a safebrick. Did he have any other options?

It sounded as though they were going to dispose of him soon. Jin could track the location of his backpack through his biotablet, but it wouldn’t do much good. Jin’s backpack was in an alleyway an unknown distance away from the warehouse.

Zeirdin moved some more once he knew he could keep his concentration. Lifting a knee, touching his toes, so far so good. His concentration almost slipped completely at the unexpected jolt of pain when he twisted his waist. Note to self, don’t do that again, Zeirdin thought. He was going to have to blow the door off of its hinges. The dark closet had about two meters for him to build up speed. Zeirdin stepped backward, mana still circulating smoothly.

Slowly, he shifted its current to focus on his legs and right shoulder. He winced in advance, it was going to sting quite a bit. A sudden thought struck his mind. Was brute force always the right answer? In the past, it had always been a split-second decision that had only barely worked. However, this time he had at least a little time to plan. Zeirdin sat down and slowed his circulation to a quarter of what a was a moment ago. He pulled his sock up and picked at a pine needle that had lodged itself in the sock near his ankle. What things in this situation did he know for sure? They were after Jin, they were dangerous, they thought he was still unconscious what else… They’re going to chuck me down the chute. Zeirdin had a realization.

There was one way that he could have an advantage in this situation. There were a lot of ifs, but if he pretended to still be unconscious when, hopefully only one of them, came to dispose of him, he could get the jump on them. The advantage of this plan was that if he pulled it off well, no one would be immediately alerted of his escape. This would in turn allow him maybe a good five extra minutes of not being a bullet sponge. He was thankful he had thought before destroying his shoulder and getting shot.

Looking back, he remembered that they carried low-caliber weapons, meant for use against humans in urban environments. The holes the bullets would make in him would be small if that was any comfort. He would lay on the ground, pretending to be unconscious while circulating mana. When they bent over to pick him up, he would strike. Probably a reinforced and powered blow to the head or neck.

Zeirdin lay on the cold concrete, trying to remember the position they left him in earlier. Since he didn’t know when they would come, he would have to significantly slow down his mana circulation rate so he wouldn’t drain all of his natural stores. His heart pounded restlessly like a drum in his chest as he lay waiting in anticipation.

Seconds turned into minutes. His mana was now circulating at the slowest he could. Any slower and he couldn’t feel or control it due to his lack of control and sensitivity. Finally, after what he estimated was close to 30 minutes based on nothing, footsteps began to grow louder. Clock, clock, clock, the sound of combat boots on concrete. His heart began to race even faster. They were definitely coming for the closet. Footsteps stopping in front of the door, he heard the sound of two latches being undone in quick succession.

Immediately, Zeirdin sped up his mana circulation to the quickest he could as the door slowly creaked open. Dim blue light streamed in and filled the small closet like the cold touch of frost. On the surface, Zeirdin looked unconscious. However, his entire body was a spring ready to explode into action.

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“Psst.”

This was not part of the plan.

“Psst!”

Zeirdin didn’t answer, it could be a test.

“PSST.”

The silence was then followed by a sigh.

“My name is Bandir, and I don’t want to murder you,” a male voice whispered timidly. Zeirdin slowly sat up and crossed his legs. Bandir’s long narrow shadow loomed over him, obscuring the dim blue light. Zeirdin was listening.

“Cray told me what you did to Jeff and Rigk. Rattled Cray a bit I thin- shit. I have to hurry up,” he looked out into the hallway quickly and turned back. “Anyway, you were totally justified, these people are disgusting, follow me,” he said quickly in a hushed voice. Zeirdin nodded and slowly stood up, wincing internally. His body ached so much. Zeirdin followed Bandir down the corridor, all the while in high alert. On either side of them were many similar closets that were being repurposed as holding cells. The walls were unpainted grimy grey concrete bricks that had never seen sunlight.

“Why are you doing this?” Zeirdin whispered. It made no sense why this person was helping him.

“I’m paying off a debt to these sickos, but I don’t want to,” Bandir whispered back as he lead the way. It made more sense. “There’s a-”, Bandir was cut off by men yelling in the distance. The yells were followed by the repeating cracks of automatic gunfire. “Shit!” Bandir broke out into a run and Zeirdin followed.

“What’s going on?”, Zeirdin asked, no longer bothering to whisper. He had been in panic mode for quite a while now and no longer had any room to be more anxious. He had to keep his cool and make the best decisions possible in fractions of a second when the time came.

“It’s a night raid…. This is a hangout for the Ravers... and I think the City Watch found us,” Bandir said between breaths, also no longer bothering to whisper and visibly stressed. More yelling followed, along with bigger cracks, and much more gunfire, each side responding to one another. The Ravers… It was familiar. Gindos had mentioned them. Oh. It explained the Level 1 and Level 2 he had encountered. They continued running, taking a couple of turns until they came out onto a balcony. The gunfire suddenly was much louder, echoing against the concrete and metal structure of the building. The balcony overlooked a large area where many empty shelves were arranged in rows. The gunfire was coming from the outside large double doors on the opposite end of the warehouse. Bandir’s pocket radio roared into life.

“All Ravers to the FRONT, NOW!”

“Shit, I have to go pretend to fight. Get to that door over there and you can slip away,” Bandir said, pointing to a small inconspicuous door on the ground floor across from where they stood on the balcony. Zeirdin nodded.

“Thank you, I won’t forget your name,” Zeirdin said, truly grateful. It made Zeirdin’s rage-filled heart feel lighter knowing that there were some people out in the world who would help others, even if it didn’t immediately benefit them. They then parted ways, Zeirdin dashing for the stairs, meanwhile, Bandir continued on the balcony. He took the metal staircase two steps down at a time, each footstep making a clang. Dashing down a row of empty metal shelves, Zeirdin ran like never before.

He wrenched open the small black door and burst outside. The first thing he was greeted by was a cool night breeze carrying the scent of moist asphalt. It was dark outside, the only source of light was a dim streetlamp. Looking around, Zeirdin saw many similar warehouses and realized where he was. In the distance, he saw a grey wall looming. He was at the edge of Lestag near the floor border, somewhat close to the bathhouse. Orienting himself, Zeirdin resumed his sprint like he was possessed.

It was late. The Cobalt Annulus slept. Much of Lestag was dark now, excluding the red light district and other entertainment areas. Relief washed over Zeirdin as he recognized a familiar landmark. The mystery kebab cart. It was closed, but he recognized it. He continued to run towards the inn. His boots thudded against the ground, his legs barely carrying him. The cool breeze against his face was the only comfort for his aching body that was filled with tension, heat, and fatigue.

Three kilometers later, Zeirdin staggered into the lobby of the inn. The lights were dim and there was no receptionist at this time. He was greeted by the musty odor of the old carpets. Forcing each leg to move one after the other, Zeirdin slowly made his way up the wooden stairs behind the reception desk, towards Jin’s room. It was the closest. He made it to the top of the stairs. Practically dragging each foot across the carpet, Zeirdin made his way down the dark hallway. Room #47. Using the rest of his strength, Zeirdin knocked roughly on the door before collapsing against it. Immediately, someone could be heard scrambling towards the door. Jin slowly opened the door in anticipation, confusion crossing his face before he looked to the ground.

“Oh fuck.”

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