Interspirit

The final descent was eerily calm. There were whispers among the spirits but they were settling. Eyes poked out through the darkness, claws scrabbled against stones. The perpetual noise of the water crashing down onto the metal grates, splashing against walls as it tumbled into the abyss below.

Kyrylo placed his fingers against those walls, feeling the damp cold. His skin slid along the smooth surface with ease, pulling him closer to the arena where the Rat King awaited.

Silvestia stopped at an archway and turned to face Felix and Kyrylo. Felix was scowling, arms folded across his chest. He had mumbled and murmured the rest of the walk, perpetually dissatisfied with any of Silvestia’s answers. Every so often he would give in to his usual habit of rubbing his hand over his stubble, trying to grab at hair that wasn’t there.

“This is it for us then?” he said, sighing. “Because we are not equipped to kill something called the Rat King. We are barely authorized to have these swords. There are books in the library we can’t even take out.”

“Oh very true,” Kyrylo added. “We need a key to get into the bathroom.”

“That’s a building thing, not an authorization thing. Don’t ruin my joke.” Felix shot Kyrylo a dirty look and Kyrylo shrugged it off. “The point is we’re going to die in here.”

Silvestia glanced between them. “This is your only way out now.” Felix folded his arms and blew out a long breath, as if he were pushing up some hair from flopping into his eyes. And then he sauntered through the archway into the arena, Kyrylo following.

Kyrylo was surprised by the sound of the rushing water crashing down around them once they were in the space. He had seen it tumbling down but it wasn’t until you were surrounded by it in the echoes of the broad sewer shaft that it really consumed you. His fingers hovered over the sword at his side.

The Rat King sat opposite upon his throne, tail curled around the base. He sneered at their entrance, ears twitching. His form was even larger than Kyrylo had envisioned before, thanks to his wide shoulders and powerful arms, though they tapered down into a smaller waist and legs. He wiggled his snout.

“What did you bring me?” The Rat King’s voice was higher than expected, given his stature, though still imposing. He looked right past Kyrylo and Felix to Silvestia. She cowered at the doorway behind them, only peeking out when called upon.

“They wish to seek the power of the Rat King,” she replied, shouting to be heard through the echoes of the water. “One has fused and wishes to be separated. Only an Honour could do such a feat.”

“Oh?” The Rat King scratched at his chin with his metallic claw, gingerly plucking at whiskers. “That is true. I am a rightful Honour in pure power.” He suddenly leaped up from his seat, flexing his arms and muscles. Cheers rang out from above. Kyrylo glanced up to see spirits crammed into the windows and gaps wherever possible. The inevitability of their situation pressed down on him from above.

“I’m willing to entertain your request,” the Rat King continued. “A demonstration of my abilities, to show how we from below rise above!” The roar from the crowds around momentarily dwarfed the sounds of the water. Kyrylo felt the reverberations through his hands and into his teeth. “Come.” The Rat King beckoned to both of them. “I, Shychur, will cleave these two bodies apart.”

There was more cheering and the Rat King ate it up. He pumped up his chest, cupping his biological hand to his ear. His tail swished around behind him. Kyrylo scoffed.

“Did you say Shychur?” The crowd suddenly died off at Kyrylo’s words, leaving only the Rat King’s smug appearance. He stepped closer to the young man, eyes narrowing.

“I am Shychur, the Rat King. You should know my name. Everyone should. For too long we have been relegated to the underground. Disposed of, despised. This is the land of the rejected and ridiculed and it is what gives me power. The power to-”

“Listen,” Felix cut in, swatting the words of the spirit away with his hand. “We don’t need you to have some whole prepared speech. We’re just here to split the fusion and get out. Or whatever happens after that.”

Shychur’s whiskers twitched. His metallic claw clenched at his side. “You come for my help and think you can talk like this? To Shychur, the Rat King?”

Kyrylo laughed out loud, an intrusive sound that bounced around the enclosed arena. He felt it settle into the ears of every spirit above them, wrap around the Rat King and squeeze, but he hadn’t been able to stop it. Shychur glared at him, eyes ablaze and Kyrylo could feel the hostility emanating from all around.

“Sorry,” he said, trying his best to hold back further snickers. “It’s just…that your name is just rat, right?”

“What?” Shychur took another step forwards, ears swiveling to hone in on Kyrylo. “Is this a joke?”

“No, I mean it sounds like…well that sounds like rat in Ukrainian so I just…it’s Rat, the Rat King. It’s funny, right?” Felix suddenly burst out with his own laugh beside Kyrylo, his right palm pressed into his eye to hold his head up, shoulders shaking. Kyrylo had always considered those afterschool lessons at church to be worthless but he hadn’t thought they would be an active detriment to his life. He just couldn’t help himself.

“That is kind of funny,” Felix finally said, recomposing himself. “It’s like, what a random coincidence, right?”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.”

“This is all a game to you?” Shychur’s voice was rising, squeaking slightly at the end. Kyrylo had to bite into his bottom lip to keep his composure. Felix failed and giggled, earning more daggers from Shychur. “This is how you treat me too?”

“Are you going to unfuse him or not?” Felix’s question felt more like a statement. He had reverted to looking frustrated by all of this, a little bored and tired and just trying to get it over with.

It was the Rat King’s turn to scoff. As soon as he did, laughter rang out from above as the energy swept through the crowd. The pendulum had swung back to their favour, wrested away for a moment by Kyrylo’s unexpected outburst. “You think this is going your way? That this is the right way to approach a king? You have no respect, no fear.”

“Look man,” Felix countered, rolling his eyes to the side, “we’re in the bottom of a pit underground surrounded by spirits on all sides. What do you think our exit plan is? We’re pretty aware that we’re fucked at this point so there’s not really anything to lose.”

Shychur blinked a few times in disbelief and his eyes shifted over to Kyrylo. The young man only shrugged as a response. Felix had captured his sentiment quite well. He was exhausted from the sprint through the tunnels and his fight with Pel. The walk down here had let the adrenaline wear off, leaving him with nothing but his aches.

“It is what it is,” Kyrylo added. He gripped the handle of his weapon at his side and withdrew it, preparing for the inevitable. He imagined you could only trash self-proclaimed royalty to their face for so long before they came for your head in revenge. Might as well be prepared.

“I know that kind of desperation.” Shychur chuckled, shocking both Kyrylo and Felix. There were murmurs around them from the onlookers. “That is what forges us here. That is what we’re built on. That is why I look like this.” He pointed at his chest, tapping his metallic finger against fur. “Look around you. You think this is a place of privilege?”

Kyrylo didn’t budge. He saw Shychur kept approaching and his trust was dwindling. This wasn’t an Honour and they weren’t about to prove their godhood. He didn’t feel some overwhelming presence of power and confidence behind Shychur’s words; he felt struggle and pain. And he knew what an overwhelming presence could be like. Drakmir had it.

“Fine.” Shychur whipped around and stomped back to his throne, taking his seat again. “You reject us? You reject this? You can leave here. I won’t hear your cause.” The massive rat grinned in his seat and gave them a dismissive wave.

Felix’s eyes went wide. Kyrylo’s flicked over to him but snapped back to the Rat King. “Is he serious?” Felix asked, his breath trembling. “We can get out?” He grabbed Kyrylo’s arm and tugged but nothing moved. “Come on man. This is our only shot.”

“No.”

Shychur’s smiled faded. His face darkened at Kyrylo’s answer. He shifted forwards in his chair, feet down on the ground and ready to take off. Kyrylo watched it all.

“Do it. Divide me from the spirit right here, in front of everyone.”

Shychur sneered. “You don’t respect me. You don’t get to command an Honour.”

“You’re not an Honour until you do it,” Kyrylo replied. He held his blade up in front of his face and wrapped his other hand around the base to prepare himself.

“Are you insane?” Felix yanked harder. There was panic streaking through his voice, a panic Kyrylo had only heard once when he had first fuse, when Felix had thought they were staring down death. “We can leave.”

“He’ll kill us the moment we turn around.”

“Fun theory. He’ll kill us if we’re looking at him too so I don’t think it matters. Also, again, fun theory. The actual answer is he said we can leave. I thought you wanted some simple life or whatever you were always moaning about. Let’s go run away and do that in another country.”

Kyrylo shrugged off Felix. “Go if you want. I may not have wanted this but I still did stuff in my life. I know a fake when I see one. This place is built on his bravado.”

“Yeah I don’t care,” Felix answered and Kyrylo could hear his feet, each step away so clear through the ambient sounds. “I’m leaving.”

“Your friend understands,” Shychur said. He laughed and relaxed back again in his seat. “Follow him and get out of my sight.”

“He’s just a co-worker,” Kyrylo replied. “Not really a friend.”

“That’s why he’s leaving then.” Shychur stood up and Kyrylo knew it was over. They weren’t going to keep dancing on this subject. The Rat King was coming to tear him apart, the same as he had done to every prior challenger, stains from their corpses still left behind, one fresh from Drakmir’s champion earlier.

Shychur drew in closer to Kyrylo until he was only a few feet away. Kyrylo had to tilt his head back to keep his eyes locked with Shychur’s, the rat’s torso almost twice as wide as Kyrylo and casting a dark shadow over him from the light of the green flames on the walls. He raised his metallic right arm up and held it above his head.

Kyrylo drove his feet down into the ground and braced himself, both of them knowing this was going to be a fight of power. It was a tiny arena and Kyrylo would eventually get cornered, regardless of any speed advantage he might have over the Rat King. Given how drained he already was though that wouldn’t last long and Kyrylo was struck by the setup of the entire place, slanting it all in Shychur’s favour at every layer so he could easily dispatch whatever threat made it to his feet.

The blow tore the blade from Kyrylo’s grip instantly, sending his weapon flying across the room until it clattered off a wall and fell onto the grates. His hands were searing from the force and the shockwaves were passing through his body when suddenly Shychur’s left hand came up and drove into his gut, knocking the last bit of air from Kyrylo’s lungs. His mouth went dry as he coughed out his remaining oxygen.

Shychur withdrew, letting Kyrylo drop to his knees. He had never felt that kind of force before, not from any schoolyard bully, not from any fall, it threw away everything he had been hit with before. He had stupidly assumed this would be an execution and demonstration of power through a favourite toy. He had never considered Shychur would try to brawl with him to win. It seemed unnecessary. But it fit with what he already knew: it was all set up for the Rat King to prevail.

The mechanical arm was raised again. There was chanting from the crowd, building excitement to the finale. Kyrylo hung his head, unable to get up as his body still recovered, his chest heaving as his lungs desperately tried to replenish, his stomach doing its best to keep everything inside.

A clang that rang out through the space, silencing the crowd.

“I can’t believe I have to do this.” Felix’s voice. Kyrylo’s head shot up and he tried to leap to his feet before his abdomen cried out and kept him down. Felix was standing in front of him, his sword out blocking the incoming swing from Shychur. There was smoke coming out the guards on the weapon, the bulky box that made up its backside whirring as it vented out heat. “We’re absolutely not authorized to use overdrive mode on these things either.”

He pushed back into the claw and finally knocked it away, sending Shychur back a step to recover. There was a collective gasp around them. Felix ran his hand over his head as though he were sweeping his hair back then pulled his hand away and stared at it, evidently realizing he didn’t have anything there to look cool.

“He’ll do anything to win,” Kyrylo cautioned, struggling to his feet while he clutched his throbbing gut.

Felix looked back at him and gave him a smile before turning to face the Rat King.

“I guess I will too.”