Chapter 16: Pestilience
James sat restlessly in Ren's apartment, waiting for her to return. She had taken the strange dagger Alistair had found to examine it more closely at her lab.
After what felt like an eternity, the door finally swung open and Ren hurried inside, an excited gleam in her eyes.
"Any luck identifying that dagger?" James asked hopefully.
Ren shook her head. "No idea what it is or where it came from. But it's incredible - completely indestructible! I tried cutting it with lasers, crushing it in a hydraulic press, everything. Not a single scratch."
She placed the dagger on the coffee table. The arcane white horse design on the hilt seemed to almost glow in the dim light.
"On the other hand," Ren continued. "I finally managed to partially analyse Lilia's blood sample."
James leaned forward intently. "And?"
"It's emitting some kind of radiation, warping space-time around it. When I viewed it under a microscope, the cells kept disappearing and reappearing spontaneously."
James nodded slowly, taking it in. "Any theories on what's causing that?"
"A few," Ren replied, "but nothing concrete yet. The properties defy everything we know about biology and physics."
She gave James a searching look. "What about you? Have there been any changes?"
James paused, then spoke softly, "The transformations are gradually lasting longer. Not by much, but they're on average an hour longer than when they first began. And my eyes—they've changed to purple."
Ren's brow furrowed in concern. She gently took a blood sample from James' arm. "I'll analyse this right away, see if it gives us any clues."
James fidgeted nervously as Ren examined the blood sample under the microscope. After a few minutes, she looked up.
"Your blood is still mostly normal," she said. "But I'm detecting trace amounts of the same anomalous cells and radiation that Lilia has. About 1% concentration."
James felt his stomach drop. "So, I'm slowly becoming her?"
"No," Ren assured firmly. "1% is tiny, it doesn't mean anything. Most likely it's a residue from your last transformation."
After a thoughtful pause, Ren redirected the conversation back to the mysterious dagger.
"I'm at a dead end with analysing that dagger on my own," she admitted. "I think our next step is to start asking around, see if anyone recognizes it."
James nodded. "Good idea. I can poke around some occult forums online too, might turn up some clues."
"Perfect," Ren said. "With both of us investigating, hopefully we'll uncover the dagger's origins soon."
She walked James to the door, giving his shoulder a reassuring pat. "Stay safe out there. Call me if anything comes up."
"Will do. And same to you, sis."
With a final goodbye, James stepped out of the apartment, Ren's words echoing in his mind. As he descended the stairs, the reality of his situation began to sink in. What did it mean for him? Would he permanently become Lilia at one point?
For the following two weeks, James was engulfed in a whirlwind of activity as he plunged into the research of the enigmatic dagger's history and honed his burgeoning abilities.
Every evening post-school, James dedicated endless hours to scouring through lesser-known forums and image boards, hunting for any leads or references to the ornate dagger that Alistair had pilfered from the cultists. He waded through a sea of posts, delving into forgotten threads and specialized communities to unearth even the faintest hint of useful information.
Amidst this relentless research, James also experimented with his transformations. He found that triggering the change deliberately, allowed him to avoid any random shifts for the next day, granting him a measure of control.
Simultaneously, he and Mia practiced with the spellbook they had uncovered in the library. Though the text was straightforward for James, he struggled with the spells, achieving only a basic light spell, while Mia was already adept at shaping water and ice.
The notebook, however, was a goldmine for Lilia, whose magical affinity was far greater. After a week he was able to cast spells of water, air, and earth in his Lilia form, albeit at a novice level.
The turning point arrived late on a Saturday night as James sifted through pages of bizarre and unsettling content on a pro-occult website. Amidst the fervent talk of demons and prophecies, he stumbled upon a blurry photo of a dagger identical to one they swiped.
The cryptic user referred to it as the "Blade of Pestilence," alleging it was one of seven apocalyptic blades. This electrifying discovery was James's first solid lead on the dagger's origins and intent. After two weeks, he finally sensed a breakthrough in the mystery.
James printed the image and description, securing it to share with Ren later. Although it was merely a piece of the puzzle, he hoped that, combined with Ren's scientific insight, it might unlock the secrets of the blade.
James moved up the stairs to Ren's apartment, taking them two at a time, eager to share the new lead he'd uncovered on the mysterious dagger. Reaching her floor, he hesitated, an unsettling feeling creeping over him. The door to Ren's apartment was slightly open, its frame splintered near the lock.
With caution, James nudged the door wider. "Ren?" he called, stepping through the threshold.
Chaos met his eyes—the apartment was in disarray. Scorch marks marred the walls, furniture lay upended and shredded. Shards of glass and scattered papers blanketed the floor.
His heart pounding, James called out again, "Ren! Where are you?"
"Over here!" Ren's voice came from the kitchen. James hurried in to find her perched on one of the intact chairs, her lab coat singed and ripped. Dishevelled hair framed her face, marked by a prominent bruise, but she appeared otherwise unscathed.
"What happened?" James's voice was laden with shock and concern.
Ren exhaled tiredly. "Someone broke in, searching for something. They were tearing the place apart when I walked in on them. We scuffled, but I managed to fend them off with some gadgets."
She motioned to the wreckage around them. "They didn't leave without making a mess, as you can see."
James nodded, his mind racing with the implications. "They were after the dagger," he concluded grimly, recognizing that the artifact was coveted by dangerous individuals.
"That's what I figured," Ren confirmed, her expression serious. She carefully pulled the dagger from her coat pocket. "Luckily, I had it with me. It's frightening to think what might have happened if they'd gotten their hands on it."
James was washed with relief to find his sister mostly unharmed, the dagger still in their possession. His face took on a grave look as he reached into his pocket.
"I've come across some information that might explain the interest in this dagger," James announced. He handed Ren a printed page from an obscure website, along with a brief overview of his findings.
Ren's eyes grew wide as she scanned the document. "The Blade of Pestilence?" she whispered. The name alone hinted at trouble.
She fell silent, absorbed in thought, then locked eyes with James. "We must keep this dagger out of the wrong hands if these claims are true. We need to hide it somewhere safe, and fast."
Alistair, who had been silently observing in his feline form, suddenly interjected. "Why not place it in my mistress's shadowscape? It would remain secure there."
James gave him a puzzled look. Shadowscape? He struggled to understand what Alistair meant.
Then it dawned on him – Alistair was in all likelihood talking about Lilia's inventory, a feature she had in the Endless Fantasy.
"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment," James responded, as without the game's interface, James had no clue how to access the storage.
Alistair's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, my mistake, mistress. I forgot you're still cut off from the full scope of your powers." He bowed apologetically.
James barely held back a sigh at Alistair's dramatics; they had bigger problems to solve.
He turned to Ren. "Could we use the watch you gave me to store it?"
Ren chewed her lip, hesitant. "Last time I experimented with compressing a dagger in a similar device, the device exploded."
She tapped her fingers on the table, lost in thought. "Unless you know some other place to store it, we might need a different plan."
Ren looked up at James, her voice measured. "Maybe we should hand the dagger to that Akari girl you mentioned. Securing dangerous artifacts is exactly the type of thing NABC specialize in."
James mulled it over. He wasn't entirely sure about Akari's intentions, but Ren made a valid point – NABC had the means and knowledge to safeguard the dagger better than they could.
"Fine," James agreed with a hint of reluctance. "Ensuring the 'Blade of Pestilence' is secure is what matters. I'll take it to Akari on Monday."
Ren nodded, pleased. "I know you're wary of her, but it's the right decision." She stifled a yawn, the day's events clearly taking their toll.
After helping Ren clean up, James said goodnight. Walking home with Alistair, he hoped trusting Akari and NABC was the correct choice. Their options were dwindling, and dangerous entities were closing in on the enigmatic blade.
Akari paced back and forth across the NABC briefing room, her fellow agents watching her from their seats around the table. Two weeks had passed since the 'Blade of Pestilence' disappeared from under their noses, yet they were no closer to finding the dangerous artifact.
"This doesn't make any sense," Akari said, frustration evident as she ran a hand through her hair. "How could something so important vanish without a trace?"
Her eyes flashed with anger as she faced Agent Collins. "It must have been that demon. I knew we couldn't trust her kind!"
Collins raised a hand in a calming gesture. "I understand your suspicion, but we lack evidence to suggest Lilia was involved."
As Akari opened her mouth to argue, he added, "You might believe she's up to something, but we can't act against her without concrete proof, as per our orders."
Akari clenched her jaw, her eyes simmering with outrage, yet she refrained from further accusations. Collins was right; they needed evidence.
"Then we'll find proof," Akari stated with resolve. "I'll watch that demon day and night until I catch her red-handed."
She turned to the other agents. "Meanwhile, use every available resource to find the blade."
The agents nodded in agreement and left to continue their search.
Once alone, Collins placed a hand on Akari's shoulder. "I know this is personal after what you went through but you should stay calm."
Akari tensed, her eyes briefly revealing her pain, then nodded curtly.
"I should return to my surveillance at the Brooks residence. She'll slip up," Akari said firmly, then left the room with purpose.
Collins watched her go, hoping her desire for revenge wouldn't cloud her judgment. With the Blade of Pestilence at large, they needed to find the truth through careful investigation, not impulsive actions.
Akari's footsteps echoed down the corridor, each one a reminder of her painful past. She remembered the night a succubus had entered her home, enchanting her father, a kind and honest man. Under the demon's spell, he had turned on his family.
Hidden in the shadows, Akari had watched, paralyzed with fear, as her father, controlled by the succubus, killed her family. The final act of the succubus's cruel performance was to release her father from the charm just before his blade reached Akari. The realization of his actions broke him, and the succubus revelled in his anguish. It was then that she turned her attention to Akari, her eyes glinting with the anticipation of completing her massacre.
But fate intervened. Collins, who had been tracking the demon for weeks, burst through the door. Without hesitation, he plunged an enchanted blade deep into the succubus's neck. The creature's eyes widened in shock before she collapsed.
Collins had saved Akari, but the scars of that night remained. The succubus's mocking laughter still haunted her dreams, as did the image of her father's despairing eyes.
With each memory, Akari's determination grew stronger. She would not let another demon harm the innocent. She would keep a vigilant eye on Lilia, ready to act at the first sign of trouble.