Chaos Unleashed

Charles remained leaning against the basement wall, arms folded across his chest, his posture cold and impassive as ever. However, this time, the person standing opposite him was the large, muscular officer instead of the smaller one with a hand in his pocket. The big man looked as if he had something to say.

Just then, the officer who was watching the mirror—the one who had argued with Charles earlier—stood rigid, face drawn taut with tension. The glass, which had been still and silent, began to ripple. Frowning at the sudden distortion, the officer spoke in a low voice that barely concealed his alarm.

"Something's off..."

He tried to sound calm, but his eyes never left the glass. A faint tremor coursed through his body, fear creeping into his mind. Still, he fought to keep it together, hand edging toward his pocket to pull out a handkerchief—intending to snap it into a blade—while his gaze stayed locked on the mirror.

Yet his body refused to cooperate, as though invisible ropes had seized him. The more he struggled, the more futile it seemed.

The rippling surface of the mirror bulged, and a single hand thrust outward—fingers splayed at odd angles, forearm unnaturally elongated. Another hand emerged right behind the first, crashing straight into the officer's face and knocking him to the floor.

Charles and the big officer behind him instantly whirled to face the mirror, which was now warping out of shape. In the next instant, two figures burst through the glass in a rapid flash.

The first was a man with long, jet-black hair draping across his shoulders and back, unruffled by any sense of panic or fear. The second was a tall, gaunt figure, limbs moving like jointed puppets. His every movement seemed like a wooden doll come to life, each joint rotating with uncanny freedom.

Charles stared at these two intruders. His memory jolted at the sight of the dark-haired man's face. He recognized him as the very person he and Joseph had once pursued, back when Charles suffered those mind-warping visions after glimpsing a Grand Vitalis entity.

"You!" Charles shouted, eyes locked on the long-haired man.

Before he could do anything more, both newcomers bolted for the door. The black-haired man moved swiftly and fluidly, while the gaunt figure jerked around and sprinted without a moment's hesitation.

Charles reacted on instinct. He incanted, "Hréoda!" His voice echoed through the basement, sending a force wave toward the black-haired man mid-step. Yet the wave shot clean through him as if nothing were there.

"Damn it," Charles muttered under his breath. He had momentarily forgotten the man's power from their last encounter: the ability to phase through solid objects.

As he spoke, Charles noticed the tall, puppet-like man twisting his body in those impossible ways, lurching for the exit just as quickly. He couldn't let both of them escape. He was already at a disadvantage with the black-haired one, so he set his sights on the gaunt figure. Charles gathered his will and loosed a telepathic jolt to disrupt the man's focus, hoping to throw him off balance—and incanted again.

"Hréoda!"

This time, the wave of force slammed straight into the tall figure, launching him backward like a rag doll. He flew into the air and smacked against the basement wall with a thud.

The echo of that impact reverberated around the room. Charles held his position, watching the man as he slid to the floor. However, the puppet-like assailant began moving again almost at once, one hand opening wide as his fingers curled in a bizarre, unnatural fashion.

Sensing danger, Charles tried to dodge aside, but his body refused to move. An invisible force bound him in place, as though he had been snared by intangible threads. He strained to budge an arm, a leg—anything—but it was useless.

Meanwhile, the big officer also found himself immobilized, struggling to move as though pinned by a tremendous weight. His body quivered under the same unknown power.

A malicious smirk spread across the gaunt man's face as he witnessed both men trapped. He moved his fingers again in that eerie marionette motion, and in response, Charles's and the big officer's arms began twisting in unnatural angles.

Charles grit his teeth so hard his jaw nearly locked, pain searing along his joints. Every time he tried to shift, the force only increased. He could do nothing but watch his own arms bend in ways they were never meant to. The more each wrist and elbow contorted, the more agonizing the pain became.

All of this—from the moment the officer on mirror-watch was struck, to Charles and the big man being pinned—had happened in scant seconds. The downed officer, who had been punched to the floor, now fought to clear his head. Barely regaining his balance, he glanced worriedly at the mirror, which rippled once again. Dread shot through him. More enemies? But as he tensed to intercept anyone else emerging, the face that appeared on the other side made him pause.

It was Joseph—blond hair, pale-blue eyes, and his trademark dimples. Relief flooded the officer.

Stepping out of the mirror, Joseph surveyed the scene in an instant: allies pinned and unable to move, the puppet-like man on the floor. Joseph did not hesitate.

He thrust out a hand. "Hréoda!"

A potent shockwave hammered the gaunt figure, slamming him against another corner of the basement. Walls shook with the blow. Even so, the man snapped his gaze to Joseph, eyes filled with rage.

"You bastards from the Department..." he spat, voice simmering with hatred. Although battered by the collision, he seemed disturbingly unscathed.

The moment the tall man was flung aside, the invisible bonds holding Charles and the big officer slackened. Charles felt a partial freedom return to his limbs. His arms, twisted beyond all normal range, began to revert. Legs braced painfully at odd angles shifted back to something close to normal stance.

"Thanks..." Charles rasped, regaining his footing and turning to face their attacker.

Joseph quickly scanned the scene, eyeing the gaunt figure. "Weren't there two of them?"

Charles, still wincing from the strain, answered at once. "The other one ran through the door—slipped right through it."

Joseph made a split-second decision. He called to the big officer, who stood shakily off to one side, "Simon, keep your eyes on that mirror! If you look away for even a second, everyone inside could be at risk."

At Joseph's command, the large man—Simon—nodded and moved to a vantage point where he could watch the glass without interruption.

Joseph turned to the officer who had just recovered from being knocked down, speaking in a firm, urgent voice, "Theodore, go after the one who fled!"

Theodore paled. "But alone? He's an Ascendant. I—"

"Don't worry," Joseph reassured him. "Our reinforcements are already out there hunting down any escapees from the mansion. I just need you to back them up if anything goes wrong."

Though he looked uncertain, Theodore nodded. "Understood," he said, then dashed out the basement door without another word.

Joseph faced Charles again. "All right, Charles—help me deal with this creep."

Charles nodded once, determination lighting his eyes. "I'm with you."