Chapter 20: The Serendipitous

Vance and Winslow faced each other within the cave, auras aflame. Behind Vance, Eden calmly watched the two, while Cliff readied his broken shotgun.

Slowly, Winslow reached into the pockets of his frock coat and withdrew two small, silver sickles. With a cruel smile, he sent both flying out at an incredible speed.

Vance had never been in a real fight, but from the moment he discovered he could use otherworldly energy, he immediately felt empowered. It felt special, like the heroes in comics and video games he’d grown up with. For the first time since his mother left him, he felt like he mattered. But when the two sickles came flying straight for him, he felt genuinely scared.

The weapons flew right over Vance’s head as he ducked in the nick of time. A chilling breeze shot down the back of his neck, and Winslow's smile did not falter.

Vance arched an eyebrow. "That's all you got?"

Winslow's grin widened, and Vance heard Cliff's voice. "Behind you, stupid!"

Vance whipped his head around to face the south end of the cave, just in time to see the two sickles racing back toward him. He jumped to the side, but the right sickle's blade sliced cleanly across his shoulder. Grunting in pain, Vance glared back to Winslow.

"I'm sure you know what a magnet is," Winslow gloated. "Well, I can turn my body into one."

Winslow kept his eyes on Vance as the sickles flew back to him. With trained precision, the Dark Zodiac stuck his arms out and caught the weapons by their chipped wooden handles.

"Look at you...you don’t even have a weapon," Winslow laughed. "I guess your genius teacher over there didn't tell you that one's psynergy can be greatly amplified when infused into objects containing volatile elements...such as these metals here."

Cliff could only sigh. "I told you, you aren't ready."

Vance's eyes narrowed, and his determination heightened. "I don't need any of that to beat an asshole like you."

"And you call me cocky?" Winslow mused, twirling the sickles around his hands with psynergy-protected fingers.

With a grunt of rage, Vance dashed forward, concentrating psynergy into his right hand. He swung it at Winslow's face, but Winslow brought the two sickles up sideways to block the blow. Vance pushed, and his opponent pushed harder. Soon, Vance was thrown to the ground, his wounded shoulder burning all the while.

"What a waste of time," Winslow scoffed. "You're pathetic."

Cliff moved to jump in, but Vance held his hand out. "Don't even think about it, cowboy!"

"He's going to kill you, Vance! Don't you see that?!"

Cliff’s pleas were stifled as Winslow brought down the sickle fast, aiming it straight at Vance's throat in order to make a clean kill. He had done it so many times before that preying on men such as this had ceased to be any sort of exercise - now, it was simply an act of self-indulgence.

It all began when he was six years old, many years away from his debut at the Psynergy Research Institute. His parents were out often, attending important political meetings and schmoozing with the elites they so wished to be. He’d been eating dinner - roasted chicken, which he was unable to cut with his inferior kiddie fork. As a small child, he found out by accident that he was able to call certain things toward himself just by concentrating hard enough. Where he came from, psynergy was something every man needed to possess in order to live a truly successful life, so his parents had applauded him at his early discovery.

Therefore, when he needed to cut his steak and called a kitchen knife toward himself, accidentally impaling his nanny straight through her heart and killing her in a matter of seconds, he did not feel repulsed or disgusted by the act. In fact, when he looked at the shiny blood on the knife, and then to the grown woman collapsed on the floor...he felt proud. He too had a right to crush people, just like the elites crushed the peasants beneath them. Winslow didn’t want to humble himself and butter up elite men like he always saw his father do - he wanted to teach people that he was the superior one.

Winslow did not achieve this with his latest victim. Before the sickle could get anywhere near Vance’s throat, Eden’s hands were on it, glowing with citrus psynergy.

"Don’t hurt my friend," she said, her body crackling with power yet again.

"Bitch!" Winslow growled, letting his own aura rage. As he yanked his blades back, a shockwave burst out, knocking Eden to the side of the cave.

Cliff ran immediately to her aid. Meanwhile, the boy from Earth hopped to his feet. As he watched Winslow's face grow beet red, Vance's laughter escalated, changing into a sound that was not so different from Winslow's own.

Irate, the Dark Zodiac swirled around and tossed his sickles once again. Vance anticipated this, and swerved through both of Winslow's blades. Concentrating psynergy in his legs, Vance twirled around to Winslow's rear and grabbed his arms. The two began to grapple, and Vance pulled Winslow’s arms back farther.

"Let's see how those blades work on you!" Vance beamed at his own genius, glancing aside to make sure Cliff was watching.

The sickles swirled around and came back in a straight line, each one heading for one of Winslow's lungs. The Dark Zodiac said nothing, showing no signs of resistance. The sickles closed in, and then, as if someone had shut off the imaginary force propelling them, they stopped and fell lifelessly to the ground.

Vance gaped.

"You really are a complete and utter fool." Winslow shook his head. "You think that I, a Dark Zodiac, would use such dangerous implements without being able to fully control them? The first time someone tried that on me was when I was 12: my own teacher, trying to restrain me before I killed him."

The sickles slowly rose up from the ground and revolved around Vance, who paled as he witnessed the scope of Winslow's power. Rather than weapons, the sickles seemed almost sentient, like sentry robots guarding their tyrant master. They moved quickly and hooked on to Vance, pulling him from Winslow's body and ripping bloody gashes in his arms as he fell.

"Vance!" Cliff screamed, as he helped Eden to her feet. "Enough already! Get back over here!"

"The choice is yours, Knight," Winslow called out. "I could kill him in a split second, or let him go with a few missing extremities. Which would you prefer? And don't think for a moment that I won't be able to sense you trying to attack me from behind. Now..." He leaned in toward Vance. "Admit your inferiority, and I will let you live. Be quick about it, though. I have things to do, because I am a very powerful man - something you will never be."

Vance gritted his teeth in rage, but he was stuck. The sickles continued to revolve around him, and he knew he had no way of catching them. Alright, this was a bad idea. If I stay here, these things are gonna rip me to pieces. If I get up...they're also gonna rip me to pieces.

"Ten seconds have passed," Winslow crooned. "That'll cost you a finger."

The sickles moved closer, like sharks sizing up their prey. Then, a voice sounded.

"Rooster."

Vance craned his neck up to find the owner of the new voice. A man with long, black hair and pale skin had somehow appeared behind Winslow and grabbed his shoulder with a long pale arm. Winslow turned to look, only to see a flat, stony face staring back at him. Vance was so enthralled that he didn't notice the sickles quiver down to the ground.

"A, Averyl." Winslow shivered. "I thought you went to deliver the clock..."

"Yes...I did, Rooster..." The man called Averyl smiled. His eyeballs looked utterly black, as if his dark pupils had devoured everything else around them. Ink-black hair trailed down to his waist, matching his dark robe, and in his free hand, he held a half-eaten pear. "But you’ve been wasting time here...so now I’ve been tasked with delivering you."

"Oh." Winslow stumbled back sheepishly. "So...where’s the portal?"

"A few meters down that hallway...It should remain open for the next few minutes or so...I suggest you use it while I clean up this little situation here."

"No, don't worry about it," Winslow insisted, regaining his composure and turning back to Vance. "This little maggot initiated the battle with me - I should be the one who sends him to hell!"

"Winslow..." Averyl's grip on the Rooster’s body tightened. "Go..."

Winslow stared back at Vance once more, rage flickering in his eyes as he walked away. He drew the sickles back toward him and they obediently hid themselves within his coat. Finally, he disappeared into the blackness.

This is bad...Vance shivered. If even Winslow’s scared of this guy...

"You are very lucky..." Averyl spoke whimsically, sitting next to Vance. "Mr. Bandeaux is the most inexperienced member of our little gang...in fact, it was his first official mission as our new Rooster...he still has yet to comprehend how things work in our little...family. You are lucky that his mind was clouded and unable to focus on his real task...which I have already completed. And do not pursue us...because, if you, my friend..." he said, pointing a long, bony finger out to Vance, "were to engage in a battle with a true Dark Zodiac...you would not last more than a second."

The words sunk in with Vance, and he didn't doubt them. Cliff and Eden also listened in silence.

"I do not intend to harm you...because there is no reason for me to do so. And besides..." He leaned down toward Vance, their faces a few inches apart. "You intrigue me. What is your name?"

"Vance Darcouver..." As Vance opened his mouth and obediently answered, the exact same words came out from Averyl's.

Vance stared in shock, and the dark man took a large bite from his pear. "We will keep in touch..." he winked, before twirling his cloak and walking back down the hallway. He raised his hand, but did not turn his head, and whistled in an unsettlingly gentle pitch as he disappeared into the abyss.

The three remaining people in the cavern let out huge sighs of relief. Vance did not move from his position on the dirty ground, letting the sense of fear slowly evaporate from his soul. His wounds continued to bleed...but what hurt more than anything was his pride.