Interspirit

The force at Kyrylo’s foot shocked him, the tail trying to wrench him away. He held firm on the sword, squeezing with both hands as it refused to move given its incredible weight. His body was lifted up into the air, stretched out in front of Shychur as he wouldn’t budge off the hilt of his blade.

“Get off me,” Shychur hissed, trying and failing to lift his busted arm. It groaned under the effort, dripping with hydraulic fluids.

“Stalemate,” Kyrylo replied, grinning. Shychur sneered, raising up his free hand, tipped with a much smaller, though still sharp, biological claw.

“Watch it,” Felix barked, drawing closer. He looked steadier by the moment and his sword had returned to properly whirring, signaling the return of overdrive mode. He was significantly more worn, the standard-issue grey long sleeve shirt torn on some of the seams, exposing his tan skin underneath. “What will try and block my attack if you skewer him?”

Kyrylo frowned at the idea that he wasn’t exactly going to be saved but that Felix was making an equal exchange on lives. Which was technically a form of stalemate, just not one he was as interested in. Of course he could let go of the sword and try to dodge that way, though he wasn’t sure what would happen to its weight. He was beginning to suspect he had something to do with it, or the spirit inside of him did.

“There’s no fight left,” Kyrylo added. “Unless you have some sort of trick.”

“Now why would you say that?” Felix yelled. On cue, Shychur threw his free hand down onto his pinned arm, holding it as he wrenched backwards, letting Kyrylo’s sword rip through the remainder and freeing himself from the trap, though he left his mechanical claw behind.

Kyrylo felt the sword shift in his hands and he released the desire to keep it as heavy as possible and hold Shychur; now he was only keeping himself in place. He planned to flip up and swipe at Shychur’s tail but before he could he was suddenly tossed aside, bowled into Felix as Shychur reset the fight.

“This is pathetic,” Shychur said. His body heaved with each breath but his eyes gleamed with passion. “You do not get to end a fight while I still breathe. Only I can do that.” He shook out his new stump, sending out a spray of hydraulic fluids that splattered onto the arena floor. “Let me show you.”

Kyrylo picked himself up, untangling his limbs from Felix. He felt a shove from his partner as he sprang up and ignored it. “I need overdrive,” he said, gesturing at his sword. Felix yanked it from his hands and held up the hilt. He twisted it until there was a click and the internal motor sprang to life. He tossed it back into Kyrylo’s hands and shook his head, pushing past him to face the Rat King.

The weapon vibrated in Kyrylo’s hands and he was in momentary awe at the increased power he was theoretically wielding. Felix had used it so well, so easily. He had been with the RIF longer, was cleared to train newcomers, so it made sense he had some degree of sword skill, even if neither of them had high enough clearance to turn on this mode.

But when Kyrylo tried to swing it as practice it leapt from his fingers, driving down with sudden force and jamming into the ground. It shuddered as it stuck up into the air, the engine whining as it tried to power through. He pulled the sword back and it flipped over his head backwards, once again forcing him to drop it lest he be pulled down with it. He heard it clatter and turned around to find it spinning on the ground, a sharpened whirl he was unable to touch.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself and he heard Shychur bellow. He whipped around and watched the spirit, unbelievably, clashing with Felix, fending off attacks with half an arm, blunting each blow. He didn’t seem to feel pain from his mechanical limb and so it was now just a shield, his tail lashing out and his remaining hand trying to scratch at Felix whenever he could. The pair had returned to being locked into combat and Kyrylo was dumbfounded by the resourcefulness the Rat King was pulling out in order to stay alive.

Kyrylo didn’t have a way out now. His sword was still doing circles in front of him and was untouchable. He assumed he would have to wait for it to run out of whatever fuel it used and stop. But he didn’t have time for that. Felix wasn’t able to get in a serious shot on Shychur, and it would only take one connecting from the rat to end Felix, especially after the blows he had already suffered. It was a miracle he was standing at all and Kyrylo was only now realizing that he could collapse from exhaustion at any moment.

That left only his fists as weapons. He had done it before, punched a lizard so hard it had shattered his skull. He had made the sword heavier, and lighter, so he knew it was in there somewhere. He didn’t know if he could actually break Shychur; a lizard seemed much flimsier than a jacked rat. He just needed to try.

Kyrylo abandoned his sword and tried to approach Felix and Shychur’s duel. They were constantly in action, Shychur’s teeth gnashing as he attempted to bite Felix, only for Felix to step aside and slash at the Rat King’s ear, shaving off tips of fur. Kyrylo clenched his fists and drew in closer, doing his best to try and stay behind Felix and out of sight, catching glimpses of Shychur’s eyes as they kept moving.

Felix’s foot hit the ground in front of Kyrylo and he saw the tip of Felix’s shoe catch in the stones, his ankle twisting for a split second, balance lost. Time froze for Kyrylo as he locked eyes with Shychur behind Felix. They both saw the opening, both knew what was coming next and neither of them could stop it.

Shychur grabbed Felix’s head, lifting him off the ground and pulling him up to his face. His claws dug into the sides, blood starting to drip.

Kyrylo didn’t have time left to think. Felix had already saved him, twice. Shychur had to be beaten.

He stepped in close to Shychur, the massive rat dwarfing his body in width and height. He didn’t care, didn’t think. He needed this to be the hardest he had ever hit someone, needed this spirit within him to do whatever it did to make him as powerful as he could possibly be.

Kyrylo stomped down into the ground, driving every bit of force he had into his foot and pushing upwards, driving his fist forwards and upwards into Shychur’s stomach. He felt it growing heavier as it moved, condensing all of the energy into a single point that crashed into the spirit’s body.

The impact shockwave shook the room, silencing the crowd, the water, pushing out everything and leaving just the two fighters. Shychur was wincing from the pain mixed with the shock. Kyrylo didn’t hesitate further, pulling back his hand now that the weight had dissipated with the impact. He wanted more, needed a finisher. Shychur was doubling over from the blow, his head coming downwards. Kyrylo’s fist rose up to meet it, condensing once again into incredible weight and force and driving through the Rat King’s chin. Kyrylo felt the crunch and Shychur snapped back, dropping Felix as he stumbled away.

The Rat King teetered a moment before collapsing backwards. Kyrylo let out a long breath before falling to his knees, his shoulders slumping as everything gave out. It was over.

Felix coughed next to him, propping himself up from his back onto his elbows. “How the hell did you do that?”

Kyrylo just smiled and burst out laughing. He couldn’t contain it as the sound fought its way out from his chest. There was such a rush of emotions swirling around, but deep within them was a familiar one he had been trying to keep buried. He was thrilled, thrilled in a way he hadn’t been in years. His hands were shaking in his lap, just like they used to. This was a triumph he had long craved.

This wasn’t where he was supposed to get it. But in this moment he even lacked the mental energy to fight off these thoughts and so they swirled around his laughter until he could rub his face and try to get back to standing.

He walked over to Felix and offered out his hand, hauling his coworker up off the floor. Felix was gripping the side of his head, trying his best to wipe away the blood. He hadn’t been cut deep, thankfully, but lacerations on the skull always bled more and this was no exception. He wobbled a bit and steadied himself against Kyrylo’s shoulder.

The pair looked up around them, where dozens of eyes stared back. The rush of the water was returning to Kyrylo’s ears but the rest of the spirits were absolutely silenced. This was unprecedented. Unexpected. Impossible.

“The new Rat King!” Silvestia shouted from the side. Kyrylo had completely forgotten about her in the fray. She had her arm raised into the air, punching it with celebratory satisfaction. The other spirits murmured for a moment before a new cheer started. The tense air evaporated and gave way to new celebrations among them. Some dangled through the windows, others clapped and roared. There was dancing on an edge in one case.

Silvestia slid up next to Kyrylo and grabbed his wrist, raising his arm up to the sky to more applause. Her grip was cold, crisp. It pierced into his skin and shocked him. He tried to pull away but his muscles were exhausted and refused the order, his hand limp in the air.

“It can’t be that easy,” Felix muttered. “That couldn’t have been the solution the entire time.”

“I don’t think he’s dead,” Kyrylo added. He nodded at Shychur, whose chest he could see rise and fall. It was slow and shallow but he was alive. Maybe he was comatose, Kyrylo didn’t really know spirit biology, but he was at least unconscious for the moment.

“The sewers respect those who climb to the top,” Silvestia replied, still showing off Kyrylo to the surrounding crowd. “Shychur was the closest we had to an Honour and he fought his way to that position. It is only fitting he was toppled and you claim his throne.”

“Closest to an Honour?” Kyrylo finally found the strength to pull his arm pack down out of Silvestia’s frigid grip. “Like now I’m an Honour? Is that how this system works?”

“Closer to it than he was.” Silvestia shook her head at Shychur, her disappointment felt even with her face hidden.

“And if I were an Honour, could I unfuse?”

“If you were an Honour, you could reshape the world as you wish. You could bring the underground above. You could multiply and divide as needed. You could unravel time.”

Kyrylo took in the words with skepticism. Silvestia had already proven herself to be overblown in her assessment of strength. But Oleg at least verified there was some tremendous power to an Honour. Maybe so tremendous it could even undo him seeing into the spirit realm at all. He could go back to the life he actually wanted, could see his family, could go to school, could just be himself.

He was surprised at the rejection from inside his thoughts, an inner voice beckoning for him to stay here, to do it all again, to keep winning and never go back. This was fun, more fun than he could ever dream, even if it had a cost.

But he buried it again. At least for now he would satisfy it by considering becoming an Honour, finding a way to not just unfuse but reclaim everything he had lost.

“If I’m the Rat King I can just leave, right?” Silvestia only nodded as an answer. “Felix, could you get my sword?” He pointed at it, still spinning. Felix rolled his eyes and walked over to it, stepping onto the hilt and then reaching down and twisting. He scooped it up and tossed it over to Kyrylo, who leapt back in surprise, not trusting himself to catch it. He noticed Silvestia came with him, cowering behind him, having seen the deadly efficacy the blade had on spirits.

“Then I want them to take me to the surface,” Kyrylo continued.

“Of course!” Silvestia made a few signals and a pair of spirits ran out from the entryway, one a serpentine thing, the other reptilian, each similar to ones he had seen previously. They gave a quick bow and began the escort, holding out their arms for Kyrylo and Felix to grab onto whenever they stumbled. Neither took them up on the offer, barely trusting any of this was real.

It was a torturous climb back through the winding tunnels of the underground but they eventually, finally, burst back out to the city, greeted by the fog, the eerie green flames in the lanterns lighting up the streets.

Kyrylo let out a long sigh and tapped at the silver disc on his side. He didn’t need to have further discussions with Felix, they were getting out of here. It seemed the deeper they went into the world, the further they got from their own realm. He hadn’t seen a single shimmer, had no indication there was an exit. The device from the RIF hadn’t activated previously while they were underground, though they had both tried throughout the walk.

There was a beep and the disc sprang to life, lighting up as something inside it whirled. Kyrylo felt the vibrations against his hip as it did its thing, the emergency retrieval activating to pull them back out. Already the world around him was starting to fade as he felt himself get tugged upwards, though he wasn’t moving. He was leaving the spirit realm behind.

But he would be back.