Project:Imagine

The madness-infected Sofia staggered forward, her once human form now twisted into something grotesque and unrecognizable. Her skin, once warm and flushed with life, had turned a pale, icy blue, marred by jagged veins of frost that crept across her body like a spreading disease. The Glacier's Edge, her once majestic sword, had fused with her arm, becoming an extension of the icy horror she had become. The blade now jutted out from her forearm, its edge glinting with an unnatural, frosty sheen, as if eager to slice through flesh and bone.

With each lumbering step Sofia took, the surrounding temperature plummeted. The air grew heavy with the biting chill of deep winter, and a thin layer of frost began to form on the walls and floor. The very atmosphere seemed to freeze in her presence, the once vibrant world now gripped by the encroaching cold. Every footfall she made left a trail of crystalline ice, spreading out like a spider's web, turning the ground beneath her into a frozen wasteland.

Wallace felt the chill before he saw her, a creeping cold that sent a shiver down his spine. He glanced back at the abomination Sofia had become, his mind racing. “Alright, kids,” Wallace began, his voice tinged with urgency. “You haven’t been taught this yet, but let’s go over the basics of dealing with a frenzied. The first rule is to kill them before they transform, clearly, we’ve failed at that. The second rule, if you’re alone, which I essentially am, is to run away.”

Without another word, Wallace scooped up Iris and Charles, their protests silenced by the sheer panic in his movements. He bolted towards his office, the cold air biting at his heels as Sofia’s monstrous form lumbered closer. The door slammed shut behind them, a thin barrier against the advancing frost.

“What are you going to do against that thing?” Iris asked, her voice trembling.

Wallace, trying to keep the mood light, gave her a weak smile. “I’m going to do something incredibly stupid. Don’t tell Jonathan, or he’ll definitely dock my pay,” he quipped, though there was an edge of truth in his words.

With a deep breath, Wallace pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing a tattoo hidden beneath. The ink was dark and intricate, shaped like a storybook. As he touched it, the tattoo seemed to pulse with a faint, otherworldly light, as if the stories it contained were alive, waiting to be unleashed. The very air around it seemed to hum with power, a stark contrast to the icy dread that seeped through the walls.

“The Bookkeeper gave me something a while back,” Wallace began, his voice tense with the weight of the moment. “He said when I used it, I’ll have to repay him, I don’t know what this artifact does, haven’t a clue what horrors it might unleash, but if there’s ever a moment to gamble, it’s now.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he prepared himself for whatever would come. “Come to me, Artifact 0-3, Book of Future Miseries!” Wallace’s voice rang out, commanding and resolute, as he invoked the mysterious power that had been lying in wait for this very instant.

The tattoo on Wallace’s chest pulsed with a vibrant, eerie light, the glow intensifying until it was almost blinding. The light coalesced and solidified, forming into a book that materialized in his hands. It was a beautiful red book, its cover adorned with intricate gold designs that shimmered ominously in the dim light of the room. The book looked eerily similar to the one Iris had, and the sight of it sent a wave of terror crashing over her.

“Wallace, you can’t use that book! It’s dangerous!” Iris cried out, her voice laced with fear and desperation.

Wallace glanced at her, a somber resolve in his eyes. “Any deal with the Bookkeeper is dangerous, Iris, but he always gives you exactly what you need. No matter the price, I must save you,” he replied, his tone steady yet tinged with the weight of the decision he was making.

The book seemed to respond to Wallace’s intent, its pages flipping rapidly on their own, as if guided by an unseen force. The rustling of the pages echoed through the room, each turn building a tension that thickened the surrounding air. Finally, the pages stopped, landing on a particular one. The words on the page were written in a language none of them could read, ancient and foreign, yet they seemed to hum with power, as if the very letters were alive.

At the center of the page was an image, a pair of angel wings, pure and radiant, surrounded by a crown of thorns and a wreath of sunflowers. The thorns curled menacingly around the wings, while the sunflowers seemed to glow with an ethereal light, the juxtaposition of beauty and pain encapsulated in the illustration. Wallace stared at the image for a moment, as if absorbing the gravity of what was to come, then he placed his hand on the page.

The moment his fingers touched the parchment, a surge of power erupted from the book. The energy was overwhelming, filling the room with a blinding light and a force that rattled the walls. Wallace's body began to change almost instantly, as if the power from the book was rewriting his very essence. His deep blue eyes shifted, the color draining away to be replaced by a glowing, otherworldly purple that seemed to pierce through the shadows. The exhaustion that had lined his face, the dark bags under his eyes, vanished as if they had never existed. His skin took on a healthier, more youthful hue, the years of stress and battle-worn fatigue stripped away in an instant.

Wallace’s hair began to grow, the blonde strands lengthening until they fell around his shoulders, streaks of jet black weaving through them like ink spilling into the water. The transformation didn’t stop there, large, magnificent angel wings burst forth from his back, their feathers shimmering with silvery light, each one edged with a delicate, almost imperceptible glow. A halo appeared above his head, not the typical golden circle, but a ring of crackling energy that hovered just above his hair, flickering between light and shadow.

In his hand, a weapon materialized, a spear, long and slender, its shaft made of polished silver that glinted in the ethereal light. Attached to the spear was a crimson flag, its fabric rippling as if caught in an invisible breeze, the deep red color contrasting sharply with the purity of his angelic form. The flag was not just a banner but a symbol, drenched in the blood of countless battles, carrying with it the weight of sacrifice and the resolve to protect.

Wallace stood there, transformed and radiating a power that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The surrounding air seemed to vibrate with energy, the sheer force of his presence pushing back the encroaching cold of Sofia’s madness. He was no longer just a man, he was something far more, a being of immense power, forged in the crucible of desperation and determination. And with this power, he would face whatever horrors lay ahead, for the sake of those he swore to protect.

“I appreciate your previous help, but this time, stay inside,” Wallace said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he stepped out of his office, determination etched into every line of his face. He was about to face the frenzied beast head-on, knowing full well the peril that awaited him.

As he exited, Charles turned to Iris, his brow furrowed with concern. “Iris, you recognized that book, didn’t you? You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”

Iris hesitated, her eyes clouded with worry. “I don’t know the full extent of the price he’ll have to pay, but I’m afraid it might be more than he can bear,” she admitted softly, her voice tinged with fear for what Wallace might endure.

Charles nodded, though his own concerns were far from satisfied. “There are so many questions I want to ask you, but now isn’t the time. Let’s just hope Wallace can pull through,” he said, his tone grim but hopeful as he turned his attention back to the door Wallace had disappeared through.

The air crackled with tension as Wallace faced the frenzied Sofia, her once-human form now twisted into a monstrous abomination. Ice crystals formed in the surrounding air, her eyes glowing with a cold, malevolent light. The temperature dropped further as she lifted her hand, summoning shards of ice that hovered in the air, ready to strike.

“So, we’re doing this, then?” Wallace muttered to himself, his voice steady despite the surrounding chaos. He flexed his fingers, feeling the power of the artifact coursing through him, strengthening his resolve. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sofia snarled, her body jerking as she sent a volley of ice shards hurtling toward Wallace. He darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly projectiles as they embedded themselves in the walls, exploding on impact and sending icy shrapnel flying in all directions.

“That’s new,” Wallace commented, his tone almost casual as he assessed her abilities. “Cryokinesis with a bit of a bang, nice touch.”

Sofia didn’t respond, her mind lost to the madness as she launched another attack. Wallace unfurled his angel wings, the glowing feathers shielding him from the next barrage of exploding ice. He gritted his teeth as the force of the blasts pushed him back, the ground cracking beneath his feet.

“Can’t let her keep this up,” Wallace muttered. He raised his hand, and the ground beneath Sofia began to tremble. “Briar Seal!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the frozen air.

Thorny vines erupted from the ground, twisting and curling as they snaked toward Sofia. The briars glowed with a dark energy, their barbed tendrils seeking out their target with a malevolent intent. They latched onto Sofia’s legs, their touch draining her strength and sealing her abilities as they coiled tighter around her.

Sofia screamed, a primal, inhuman sound that reverberated through the room. She thrashed against the briars, her ice shards shattering uselessly as her power was suppressed. But then, with a surge of strength, she ripped free from the vines, her body rapidly healing from the damage as she sent another wave of exploding ice at Wallace.

Wallace grunted as the ice exploded around him, his wings shielding him from the worst of the blast. But the force of the explosion sent him skidding backward, his feet struggling to find purchase on the slick, frozen ground.

“Alright, looks like I’ll need a bit more firepower,” Wallace said, shaking off the debris. He focused, his eyes narrowing as he summoned the next power. “Sunflower!”

Bright, golden sunflowers sprouted from the surrounding ground, their petals glowing with an intense light. The flowers turned toward Sofia, and in unison, they fired beams of condensed light directly at her. The beams sliced through the air, burning through the ice and searing the ground as they honed in on their target.

Sofia roared in pain as the light beams struck her, burning through her flesh and disrupting her healing. She staggered, her icy armor melting under the relentless assault. But even as the light tore at her, she refused to back down, her madness driving her forward.

Wallace watched her with grim determination, his mind racing as he planned his next move. “You’re not making this easy, are you?” he said, a note of respect in his voice. “But I can’t afford to lose here. Not with their lives on the line.”

Wallace tightened his grip on the spear as its name came to him, almost as if the weapon itself whispered it into his mind. “Joan of Arc,” he murmured, feeling a surge of power pulse through the weapon. “It’s fitting, isn’t it? A warrior’s name for a warrior’s fight.”

Sofia, or rather the monstrous entity she had become, snarled at him, her breath clouding in the frigid air. She was a fearsome sight, her body a grotesque amalgamation of ice and flesh, her once-human features distorted beyond recognition. Her wounds, though severe, were already beginning to knit themselves back together, the twisted power of madness fueling her regeneration.

Wallace knew he couldn’t let this fight drag on. Every moment he delayed gave her more time to recover and adapt. With a burst of speed, he dashed forward, his wings propelling him as he closed the distance between them. Sofia reacted instantly, her claws slashing at him with deadly precision, but Wallace was ready.

He twisted in midair, evading her strike by a hair’s breadth, and thrust Joan of Arc toward her. The spear’s tip glowed with a faint light as it struck her icy hide, and Wallace felt the weapon’s power surge through him. A series of weak spots began to form on Sofia’s body, glowing faintly as the spear’s power took hold.

“There we go,” Wallace muttered, satisfaction lacing his tone. “Let’s light those up.””

Sofia roared in fury, her healing factor struggling to keep up with the rapidly appearing weak spots. She lashed out with another wave of exploding ice, but Wallace was already moving. He leaped back, his wings beating furiously as he called upon Sunflower once more.

Golden sunflowers erupted from the surrounding ground, their petals unfurling with a radiant glow. The beams of condensed light shot forth again, this time aimed directly at the weak spots Joan of Arc had created. The light seared through the air, striking Sofia with pinpoint accuracy.

She screamed in agony as the beams pierced her, the energy disrupting her regeneration and tearing through her icy armor. But even as she staggered under the assault, her body continued to heal, the madness within her refusing to let her fall so easily.

Wallace gritted his teeth, knowing he had to press the advantage. He slammed his spear into the ground, summoning Briar Seal once more. The thorny vines erupted from the earth, twisting and writhing as they latched onto Sofia’s limbs. The briars glowed with dark, malevolent energy, draining her strength and further sealing her abilities.

Sofia struggled against the vines, her body convulsing as she fought to break free. But the combined power of Sunflower and Briar Seal was too much, even for her enhanced strength. The beams of light continued to rain down on her, each one striking a weak spot with devastating precision.

“Come on, just a little more,” Wallace urged himself, sweat pouring down his brow as he maintained the relentless assault. He knew she was close to breaking, but he couldn’t afford to let up, not for a second.

Sofia’s movements grew sluggish, her healing factor finally beginning to falter under the onslaught. Her ice armor cracked and shattered, the weak spots glowing brighter as they took more damage. Wallace could see the end was near, but he needed one final push.

With a shout, he lunged forward, Joan of Arc raised high. The spear’s tip glowed with a brilliant light as he drove it into Sofia’s chest, directly into one of the weak spots. The impact sent a shockwave through her body, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.

Then, with a blinding flash of light, the weak spots exploded, sending shards of ice and flesh flying in all directions. Sofia let out one final, agonized scream before she crumpled to the ground, her monstrous form finally succumbing to the damage.

Wallace stood over her, breathing heavily, his wings drooping from exhaustion. He watched as the last remnants of Sofia’s madness-fueled transformation faded away, leaving behind only the broken, lifeless body of the woman she once was.

He lowered his spear, the glow fading from Joan of Arc as the battle came to an end. “Rest in peace, Sofia,” he whispered, his voice tinged with sorrow. “I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

As soon as the battle ended, the power from the red book dissipated, and Wallace felt the transformation reverse, his wings retracting, the spear dissolving into nothingness, and his hair returning to its normal length. Exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. The adrenaline that had fueled him moments before now left him drained, every muscle aching from the fight.

Iris and Charles, having stayed hidden during the chaos, burst from the room the moment they sensed the battle was over. They rushed to Wallace, worry etched on their faces.

"Kids, cover your ears," Wallace panted, still trying to catch his breath.

Without hesitation, Iris and Charles obeyed, covering their ears as Wallace muttered to himself, “Fuck yeah, it's over. God damn, that was draining.” His words were laced with a mix of relief and triumph, though neither child could hear him. Still, they could see the spark of victory in his eyes and the tension easing from his shoulders.

He looked up at them, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Alright, you can uncover your ears."

Iris and Charles did so, their relief evident as they watched Wallace slowly get back to his feet, though he swayed slightly from the effort.

"So, what's the plan?" Charles asked, his voice tinged with concern. "Based on that announcement, I bet the facility is crawling with individuals like those two."

Wallace nodded, wiping sweat from his brow as he considered their situation. “I doubt it. I know Nikolai too well. He's ambitious, sure, but he's also strategic. I guarantee we’re not the only facility he’s attacking. He’s spread himself thin, aiming only for core figures.”

“Core figures?” Iris echoed, her eyes wide with worry.

“Yeah,” Wallace confirmed, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. “He probably targeted me, your teacher, and maybe sent an extra or two for the Slayer if he found out about her. I’d estimate there are four others here, max. Every other Awakened brought here will be low power and easy to deal with”

Charles frowned, his curiosity piqued. “You seem very sure of yourself. How do you know Nikolai so well?”

A shadow passed over Wallace’s face, a flicker of old wounds that hadn’t healed. “He used to be a member of A.E.G.I.S. But that was before the Invidia raid. His soon-to-be wife died during that raid, and after that, he, like many others, didn’t trust the leaders' motivations anymore. So, he left, along with a lot of other agents. So many left, we couldn't manage or regulate them.”

Iris, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up, her voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a knife. “Was his wife’s name Emma?”

Wallace froze, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like he might collapse under the weight of the memories that the name dredged up. Guilt and despair clouded his expression as he whispered, “Yes… her name was Emma.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the weight of Wallace’s confession hanging in the air. The implications of his connection to Nikolai, and to Emma, were clear. Whatever had happened during the Invidia raid had left scars that ran deep, and now those old wounds were being ripped open again.

Wallace's eyes narrowed, a mixture of curiosity and dread tightening his features. “How do you know her name?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Iris hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “When you were trapped in that nightmare, you were apologizing to her. After that, I just had a hunch.”

Wallace let out a heavy sigh, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “For a kid, you’re too perceptive,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as if to ease the headache of buried memories. “During the Invidia raid… Emma transformed into a Frenzied. I had to kill her before she could harm anyone, but… I still regret it to this day. I never told Nikolai. I couldn’t.”

His voice cracked, the pain in his heart spilling over as a tear traced a path down his cheek. “We were best friends. I was supposed to be his best man at their wedding. Just thinking about telling him… it broke me. I couldn’t do it.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Wallace's anguish was palpable, and Iris and Charles could only watch, feeling the depth of his sorrow but unable to offer any real comfort. There were no words that could heal such a wound.

But Wallace knew they had to keep moving. He straightened up, wiping the tear away and steeling himself. “We have to get going. Stay behind me, and I’ll deal with any enemies we see.”

As they walked down the hall, the tension in the air was thick, every shadow a potential threat. Wallace moved with the careful grace of a seasoned soldier, his senses sharp despite the emotional turmoil. But then, just as they turned a corner, he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in shock.

Without a word, Wallace quickly placed his hands over Iris and Charles's eyes, shielding them from the sight that lay before them. On the cold, blood-splattered floor was the mangled corpse of Calum. His body was riddled with countless holes, barely recognizable as human. But what caught Wallace’s attention most was the brooch, a delicate butterfly design, that had been viciously stabbed into Calum’s eye.

“The Bookkeeper got to him first, it seems,” Wallace murmured, more to himself than to the others. “That’s one less threat we have to worry about.”

His voice was steady, but the sight had clearly shaken him. The Bookkeeper, though he barely acted himself, Wallace knew when he did his methods were intense. He tightened his grip on the kids, gently guiding them away from the grisly scene.

“Don’t look,” he said softly, his tone a mix of command and comfort. “It’s not a pleasant sight.”

As they moved past the corpse, Wallace kept their eyes covered until they were safely out of view. He knew that the nightmares from this day would haunt them all, but he was determined to shield them from as much horror as he could. They had already seen too much, and he refused to let them bear any more of this twisted world’s cruelty.