Fragment 5: Pathix - Tethered to Glass

Marshal's core sparked as he strolled through the steel corridor, the faint echo of his command to 'sleep' still lingering in his mind. He'd swiped some Neurite shards from those Rokgar twins, and with Voltite light fixtures lining the halls, his reserves were plentiful. At least there was one plus to the stupid ship he found himself on. Drugged and now stranded, the litres of cheap wine staining his lips, not enough to dull his ever wish to be numb.

With Voltite coursing through him, his senses sharpened, taking in every sound, movement, and flicker around him. Some might call it wasteful compared to surging Hemarites, which enhanced his nerves instead of accelerating them. But whoever said that needed more actual experience and was a moronic cunt. Pushing your senses to their limits requires a more tremendous mental effort to process, yes. However, accelerating the mind's capacity to handle more information often provides similar results, with the benefit of a clearer mind. A trait that the weasel scholars, who questioned his every application, should have invested in. Then maybe they understand why he kicked the last one off his manor roof.

So, taking a step, eager not to alert the crowd, Marsh puffed a sigh of steam, doing his best to make it look as natural as possible. Or as natural as breathing out molten gemstone particles could be. His nerves surged, heightening his senses to every sound, movement, and shift in the environment. His mind, like an array of compiling neurons, crunched and analysed the visual and audible data.

It was imperative not to be caught. He needed to find the demon general who had imprisoned him on this foul-smelling ship. Once an advanced warship he served on, it was now a brothel on air, stained with disrespect, desire, and lust.

Lost in his focus, Marsh was jolted out by a familiar, taunting voice. "Speaking of lust," Shadow sneered, "I'm getting rather peckish."

Marsh regarded the mirror-like copy of himself, his stupid smile so smackable.

"Hitting me is technically hitting yourself, you know," the figure said.

"I'm nothing like you!" Marsh snapped.

The inner Valkar grinned, his face blurring as a servant girl strode through his form. Marsh wished that would be the end of the stupid Shadow. But in a plague of shapeless black, the misty figure reformed, his bemused expression as irking as ever.

"You know, as your resident, imaginary friend, it's quite hurtful that you hate me so much."

"I'm not your friend."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Shut it."

Marsh chewed his lip, aware that Shadow's endless teasing was a ploy. The stupid ghost wanted him to snap, to lose control—and it took everything to resist.

Shadow sighed. "And here I was, going to share tips on how to seduce a Succubus; you do rather need it."

Ignoring him, Marsh approached a checkpoint, and the flow of people funnelled into two doors – one for entry, one for exit. He eyed the demons; guards stationed at either end conducted thorough inspections on everyone passing through.

"Hey, are you listening?" Shadow floated and overtook Marsh's pace. "Don't tell me you're embarrassed. You are a dying breed, and most demons your age already have a full flush—grandkids and all."

Marsh slapped Shadow and pulled out a glass card. He handed it to the Krukk guard, who inspected it wide-eyed. Glass ID cards weren't rare, but stained in black, carved-out Obsidian, it was undoubtedly one of only two Obsidium IDs that existed.

"Imagine the fortune it'd fetch on Avaritia's market," Shadow whispered. "They sell anything there."

It was a ridiculous notion; the card engraved with his details, linking anyone to his identity. And besides, it was his last memento from his father.

"Your Highness," said the canine guard, "we didn't expect you—"

Marsh silenced him with a raised hand; as much as relying on his status was helpful, it irked him to abuse it. It wasn't a badge of honour as some thought of it. We failed. He failed. There was no pride in letting thousands die. Dragon slayer? That was a fluke.

"I presume you can let me in, yes?" Marsh asked.

The wolf boy spiked, his frantic nods confirming. In a flash, the fluffy-eared boy shot back, straightened his feet, and touched his fingers to his forehead in a clumsy salute. Marsh recognized it as the post-founder salute, a gesture focused on the mind rather than the core—a symbol made to reject their old rulers and him. It was probably better he didn't overreact again.

"Overreact?" asked Shadow. "Last I checked, tossing a Succubus to a bed isn't a normal reaction." The figure paused and then smiled. "Oh wait, why did you do that again?"

Marsh grunted.

"Oh my, is that a blush I see? Don't tell me—"

Ignoring the idiot and acknowledging the boy's salute, Marsh proceeded forward. He could sense the dozens of questions lingering in the boy's eyes; he saw hope where none should be. He wasn't a hero, no knight. A villain like him should be content with being hated. Monsters should not inspire hope. Just let him return to his prison, his cage; it was all he asked for.

Shadow remained quiet. That is not surprising, considering the dammed ghost was in his head. But even he couldn't argue. Marshal was not a good man.

Ahead in the bustling hall, drunk and loose demons twirled, flopped and rammed each other. The centred stage, built for few at most, was packed with dripping skin and dancing girls, boys, men and an occasional woman now and then.

"If you look close enough, you can see they're not just dancing on that stage," said Shadow.

Marsh diverted his eyes, the slippery moans persisting even above the music. Hell was nowhere sacred. This ship was a war vessel. Soldiers fought and died on these very floors.

Annoyed, he spun to a waitress. "You," he said.

Frazzled, the Pathix woman skittered over, trying to hide how tense her tail was. Terribly, he might add, as he noticed instantly. Thank hell he didn't have any tail to expose inner thoughts. Because he might chop it off if that was ever the case.

"Sir?" the fluffy-eared woman said.

She carried a tray of glasses and a single bottle among the servings. Reaching for it, he corked the top and emptied the contents down his throat. Finishing, he gently placed it back. "You can go," he said.

She stuttered momentarily, peering at the litre of Durg venom he had inhaled. Then she nodded, her tail unquestionably wagging, her curious eyes coming up with theories.

"Odd one, isn't she," said Shadow. "Can we keep her? I always wanted a cat."

The woman's lips pondered to ask him more, but not eager to remain on this filthy deck, Marsh dug in his pocket. He placed one of his two violet-Gravium chunks on her tray. Her eyes widened at the gemstone--Gravium, the second most prized jewel in the empire, its value rivalled only by Solelite. It was a gemstone that powered entire fleets and held enough value to support her family for a lifetime. But even that didn't explain just how crazy valuable it was. Marsh popped the other stone in his fangs, crunching the glass and swallowing the wealth away.

She gawked at him, nearly fainting from how pale she looked. "Lord?" she asked, her demeanour changing as her tail stiffened to purple stone.

"If anyone asks, you never saw me," Marsh said.

She blinked, staring at the stone, and then nodded again. The tail flapped at her dress, her lips attempting not to smile at the sheer wealth.

"Aren't you overpaying her?" Shadow said. "What about the guard? You didn't pay him."

As far as anyone is concerned, he is still in this hall--an alibi he is about to defy. He snapped his fingers, activating the Gravium coursing through his veins. Instantly, his senses extended, feeling every gemstone within reach as if each one held its own magnetic pull. The jewels pulsed, each a powerful gravitational force he could feel tugging at him from a distance. With that power, he found a thread attached to the grand window frame, opening to a view over the warship's old cannons.

He linked his core to the ship's latch, synchronising his arm's frequency with the window's vibration. With the connection secure, he pulled. A rush of air blasted the corridor, and the Pathix woman screamed, huddling as if she were just about to be ripped out. But both remained fixed, the vacuum pulling the glass off the woman's tray and into the roaring wind.

"I would hold on to that stone if I were you," Marsh said.

He tapped it, applying the same properties as his core surged. Her fluttering hair stopped, her dress ignoring the storm. She flicked her sight around like a fuzzy cat, her sight stopping on the bubble of non-affected air around her.

"Gravitor?" she asked.

Steam hissed out his lips, and her eyes grew wider. He halted his surging, and like a kite, he burst out the opening.