Chapter 150

  A person William assumed to be questionable ended up being much worse. Perhaps words of refusal were adequate punishment because uncovering understanding with old people could get naive or stupid from the very beginning. Luke did not trouble himself with anything related to Kaufman too much, but did he make some big warnings. Maybe he didn't know what Kaufman was about to do, so... what the hell was this?

  Being attacked so abruptly caused William's mind to turn nasty until he began to panic and slip.

  *Fucking shit. I can't speak... Is he freaking senile or what?* William cursed in his mind and remained voiceless when the ominous stuff began.

  “A bit stronger force, perhaps? Hm. That will do,” Kaufman curiously questioned himself. Without his hat, as that lingered in the air, he decided to push something further through his mysterious power.

  A much more mighty force pounded ahead without any obvious line of thought. It was as if the air changed and tensed, spreading cracks all over the physical surroundings, including some bits of space that began to distort. Those left wavering patterns resembling ripples in water.

  They bore into William's body, pushing him to the wall of the upper floors that cracked further. He was close to one of the doors, where his expectancies resided.

  This time, William growled and screamed, but no voice escaped further than a few feet away. His crimson panicked, trying to see strength and power in numbers, yet... time was a terrible wound.

  Screams equal to many beatings tore nothing. It was the skin that was worse, causing his face to break in sweat and tears. The crimson became wilder just then, taking onto the tears and trying to oppose and swirl around the space like a wild snake. Patterns rotated, adapted, and attacked, protecting what was right even if it failed in every way imaginable. It still hoped for even one success.

  Kaufman was disappointed. “Maybe my approach is wrong. It is like putting a worm into water, so should I toss it out or feed it as well? Hm.”

  Pain convulsed William's body and face, and he would scream even more if he could.

  It felt endless enough for his conscience to skip a beat, making him watch the scenery and pain and.... be mad. Oxygen disappeared under every second until something snapped.

  His conscience departed and something else came over.

  A complete darkness.

  Then whiteness with one large red droplet, hitting something hard and creating a loud echo. Crimson flashed before a strange place of white and red, moving onto the windless starry sky.

  William watched a white room that seemed far too convincing for his nightmares because it was nothing like the usual darkness. He had been here, looking and fearing those shadows and noises of nonsense.

  There was also a small pond ahead and a horrific black sea for a ceiling. It snatched and crawled, assembling imprints like people, ghosts, or monsters. There were claws, hands, and faces screaming in terror from above, while he was standing in place below them, unknown in size but frozen and lapping for breath.

  It was happening again, of course. The nightmares were fine when he drowned and felt the loss of dreams and the consequences of his actions.

  [From dusk to morning,] a voice called. [Mourning is the weakness. Closing is to leap. The fight is to be nervous.]

  [To die is to stop breathing]

  [To know...]

  [You know]

  He was unable to fight back in this scenery and torment, though other stuff could. It always did that sort of thing, causing him to scream, see things, and sometimes even remember. Which was worse wasn't within his mind. The ceiling wanted to swallow him, grab his little head and the wailing heads devour him.

  He couldn't move, yet it all fled when a large snapping claw spread from that crimson pond further away, splintering at William like a hungry spider, tearing him, eating him, and... tolerating what came from that pond.

  He woke up, feeling terror rising and momentum cracking from his heart and chest, letting him feel the pain and sweat mixed with tears. It was that heat again. It got fearful for his life, so after a small struggle later, crimson burst apart from those lines, spreading like a wing mixed with a claw. It moved, forcing William from the wall to the ground, flailing around him and grappling with space and ground alike.

  He couldn't see much anymore, yet the pressure was better because of the changed position. It felt like a weird umbrella that protected him, which was halfway right. He heard yet another clapping, or was it striking resembling a laugher, or drops of blood? Were his ears even fine, or were distorting tones and laughter not that nice anymore? It never should be, he knew.

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  A moment of the past was a remembrance of nightmares and reality. William was sure he was still there, watching that pond and faces, and imagined Kaufman before him, standing in that white room. False. That could not happen, for that claw was faster, menacing, and secure.

  Which of them was fake or correct? William was thinking and imagining something silly again, knowing this simple nightmare trick was slowly bending reality the moment his Emblem spoke.

  He changed his expression, and after some barebone thinking, no matter what happened, he remained on the ground, protected while facing the ground without dying or breathing.

  A struggle that he could not wrap his head around had multiple different images and angles, so Kaufman must be playing with him. His face described it; his smile and claps looked satisfied indeed, even if it was hurting William in the process.

  But for what? There was so much more pain ahead if he wanted to walk this path, so Kaufman didn't care for some minor incident and experiment. In fact, others might be much more throughout, rough, and crazy enough to wound the beast and push the truth, or not wanting to realize it.

  Regardless of that, what was right or not wasn't his concern. No one might touch William because time was getting low and plays would no longer be effortless. How many people even knew about this? Kaufman wondered about the number until something nice came up. Australia. It was luck.

  “More? Do you want more, hm?” Kaufman assumed, and with a frown on his face, approached William on the ground. Then, something shocking happened right before his face when Ellie unexpectedly moved behind William, fearful, trembling, and kind of sluggish. She crouched there, one arm spread forward and one on William. Her face was down, hoping that crimson manifestation wouldn't snap her in half.

  It could do it so easily that it wouldn't even be funny.

  “S-sir... He is hurt. Is this not enough?” Ellie argued, trembling in voice and body alike.

  “Girl.... Silence! What do you think you are doing right now?!” Kaufman uttered and gave her a last glance that Ellie couldn't see but feel. It was a scolding reverence, so Kaufman wondered where this girl got the courage to even approach him. It might be naivety or silly bravery, or the reason why Heidi liked her enough to try this silly thing that people might never understand.

  Not everyone great has the qualification to speak up, let alone talk to him right now.

  It was fitting for Heidi, who was innovative as far as Kaufman was conscious of his family.

  Once more, something in William's arm snatched from the rules and started to struggle mightily against the encompassing pressure, right there amidst Ellie's proximity. She flinched when the half-wing half-claw stumbled against the air, almost hitting her.

  Wincing, threading between the lines of physicality and crimson light, they did not touch her. It jolted and thrashed like a wild branch, creating a wider dome above William and Ellie, breaking and then... snapping apart... as if it couldn't do anything anymore.

  “Oh my.” Kaufman watched this chance of weird Arcana and snapped his fingers.

  Pressure lessened and the defeated crimson found its path in less than two breaths, even if it meant discarding something soft. The broken defense changed into a thin dense ribbon with a claw at the end that instantly went for Kaufman's throat. It resembled a spear or thin fingers twisted to form a thick end.

  It stopped half a foot away from the skin as if hitting a wall, breaking like a bullet hitting a steel barrier.

  “Interesting.”

  It lost like a dog against a mountain, but even a mountain can snap and stimulate great results and creations. The claw couldn't do that well, so it moved like a broken toy back to a rough unit akin to dust made of many crimson lines that create a bit of light.

  It then wrapped around the only flesh that mattered. Unfortunately, at this point, William was no longer conscious and went back to see whatever nightmares were within him, unaware that Ellie was halfway on top of him, coping with this whole situation with her anxiety. Perhaps he wouldn't want to question it, or even remember it.

  The pressure was applied less and less, and the little of what existed went through the grinder. Anger, fear, and total annihilation. It was horrific to many of William's dreams, yet he already lost. Between the pain and utter helplessness, he wasn't sure of what was real or worse.

  The claw returned in a couple of seconds, coming from the Emblem that was slowly revealed thanks to this manifesting ways and lines that tore a bit of the sleeve apart. The claw wasn't over; it moved against the ground, forcing William a little bit upward and jerking Ellie aside. It was hard, aware, and aroused. Something heard it right, pushing forth its ways even if the limits were approaching.

  It was tough like a doberman, unwilling to see eye to eye with this older asshole, and barking for safety or a grudge. Kaufman could see that and applauded the little claw.

  The Emblem of this struggle was worth seeking, and that claw beamed in the light of crimson and ideal powers. It was a really nice Element. It put nice layers and patterns of force and lifted the pain away, yet the rider was no more.

  William's body fell down the moment that claw lost its luster, breaking and losing as if it broke.

  Kaufman liked what he had seen and crouched beside William after everything was over. Crimson returned where it belonged, leaving the cracks all over the place, even though everything was Kaufman's fault anyway. This place was built to last as he envisioned. Not from him, however.

  Kaufman lifted William's head and saw his lacking wits.

  “Oh, this might be why?” He wondered and slapped those cheeks once.

  Nothing happened. Not even the crimson returned.

  Was it the lack of breath? What about the mouth from mouth?

  Glancing once more at frightened Ellie, he chose to disregard that option.

  It took one painful minute for William to wake up. By now, his cheeks were red, the pain was unbearable, and he felt as if he traveled a lot for nothing.

  Panting, he wasn't sure if he should be glad to breathe again, but he was back or hopeful for that voice and crashing curses that he dreamed about. So, what did it say? What had he seen? What to curse?

  Daring to speak a word about it, or know the truth did not sound pleasant. It was around the tip of his tongue until he felt that heat and emotions again. Wanting to punch an old man never trashed his mind this much.

  He was ready to fight it out with this fucker who was still holding his head.

  “Oh, welcome back. That was a meticulous and splendid play. Congratulations, you got it. I express it with praise.” Kaufman smiled at him with obnoxious innocence as if he saved his life.

  William never wanted to gut-punch an old man with full strength like this before. One could learn it any day, he thought.