Chapter 21 (part 2/2) - Forceful Persuasion

  To confront them, doing it there was the worst option. It was too well lit, too open, and his fabrication circles were nearby. He had to lead them somewhere else, a place he had already prepared for a possible confrontation.

  His pursuers had not caught up yet, but he could hear them shouting through the corridors, cursing and groaning in pain. The bottle had not only splashed boiling water across their faces, but glass as well, which was far from pleasant.

  Vincent hurried away from the bathroom, which was accessed through a narrow, claustrophobic corridor filled with debris and roots he had to dodge. He had been careful to leave the dust and cobwebs intact so it looked abandoned, so his pursuers would not think he was hiding anything there. Instead, he ran through the maze-like corridors of that section, which seemed to have formed defectively, lacking structural logic and usefulness, until he reached a narrow circular little room he had prepared for a possible confrontation.

  Hearing his pursuers get dangerously close to the bathroom, Vincent deliberately crashed into a broken shelf to draw their attention. That mobilized them immediately in his direction, running and stumbling as they went.

  They did not take long to reach him. There was nothing else to do. Lily would not come, and they would not stop chasing him. He had to face them. He had to hurt them.

  Better a confined space. The magic I have seen them use is area-based; it will be harder for them to attack me with the other two here…

  Unless they planned to simply beat him down; in that case, he would be in trouble. Even so, he trusted they would resort to magic, and in the worst case, he had combat experience. Part of his anti-kidnapping security training included this kind of close-quarters struggle. As skinny as he was, if he could stop them from using magic, he could win.

  The resurrects saw him, and Vincent slowly backed into the small circular room. It was poorly lit, with roots crawling along the slanted, organic-looking walls. Looking more closely, the room felt like the inside of an organ, a failed generation of the tower itself…

  “Here he is!” shouted the resurrect who arrived first, thrilled to see that the door did not lead to another cluster of corridors. “He’s trapped!”

  The other two entered slowly.

  The one who had found him took position to his left. He had curls and a large nose, his face red and cut by shards of glass. He was about the same height as Vincent, although a little thinner.

  To his right was the other one... whom he initially thought was a man. Instead, he found a tall woman with short blond hair, lanky, with an unattractive face. The explosion of the bottle had left a gash on her forehead.

  Finally, their leader. A man already well into his years, partially bald from what looked like some kind of burn, his face flushed red with rage, blocked the exit. At first glance he seemed imposing, taller than Vincent and much more massive, but on closer inspection it became clear he was simply fat.

  His staff was not nearly as elaborate or expensive as Lily’s. It looked handmade, carved from raw wood with a knife, using large white quartz crystals to absorb and channel energy, the same kind used for lighting, arranged in such a way that the staff could also be used as a spiked mace.

  “You damn idiot, do you have any idea how difficult you’ve made this for yourself?” the leader said furiously, slamming his staff against the floor. “Now we’re going to have to hurt you.”

  “Let’s break his legs!” the woman shouted.

  “No,” whispered the one with curls. “Break his hands, his fingers… then heal them so they’re left deformed and he can never work again!”

  Whatever they intended to do to him would hurt a lot. It would leave him crippled, without traces or marks to give away what had happened. He had not thought about it until now, but in a world where healing magic existed, they could torture him for hours without visible consequences.

  “So this is how Edgar planned to persuade me?” Vincent said. “I thought he was much more civilized.”

  “T-that!” shouted the leader. “That’s for resisting, that’s for running, and for your little bottle trick!”

  “Oh, really? Because I remember you trying to throw me into a vein of the heart. You tried to kill me.”

  “…”

  The man was left speechless. Vincent saw a hint of regret on his face; killing him probably had not been part of the original plan, but the adrenaline had pushed him into violence.

  “There were plenty of witnesses to that. What do you think would happen if they found me dead… or completely charred after coming into contact with an artery?”

  Vincent extended his left hand toward one of the nearby roots. The room was small enough that they were within arm’s reach.

  “W-what are you doing, idiot?”

  “Weren’t you planning to torture me?” Vincent continued. “You forced me toward one of these arteries to kill me. Several scholars saw you chasing me.”

  “Bah… they won’t talk. They know better than to mess with Mr. Edg-”

  The sentence cut off as Vincent moved his hand even closer to the artery.

  “If nothing’s going to happen to you, then why are you so nervous about this?” he asked, his calm clearly forced. “Didn’t you come here to hurt me? Or is this already too much punishment?”

  “Y-you idiot, get your hand away from that!” shouted the one with curls, who was closest to the artery, afraid that his proximity would implicate him even more.

  “I’m not afraid of these roots. I’ve already survived once, you know?” Vincent said. “I made quite a scene, screaming all night… I could scream your names if you gave them to me. Or Edgar's.”

  The anger on their faces vanished, replaced by worry. They had heard the rumors; what he was saying was true. All that remained was to know whether he was really crazy enough to do it.

  “Alright… take your hand away,” said the one with curls, stepping a little closer, as if trying to pull him back.

  “Stop right there!” Vincent shouted, moving even closer to the artery and raising his other hand in warning. “Or I won’t just touch the artery, I’ll discharge the energy into one of you!”

  Vincent’s threat was simple, but effective. They could not hurt him without getting hurt themselves. Like having a hand on a high-voltage cable and threatening to electrocute everyone. The resurrects backed away.

  “You’re insane!”

  “What’s wrong? Afraid of a little energy? Weren’t you about to break my hands a moment ago?”

  The balance had tipped in his favor. Now he was the one threatening them. He had to force them to leave him alone, and he had to do it before they realized he was bluffing.

  Come on, leave already, you idiots… I can feel the energy prickling against my hand.

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  This artery was much larger than the previous one and wasn’t slowed by any belts. If he touched it, despite having much better control now, it could kill him. The moment he showed even a hint of fear, the balance would tip to the other side.

  “You just have to stop producing the pipes and we’ll leave you alone. There’s no need to make such a scene…” the leader tried to negotiate.

  “No,” Vincent replied, simply.

  “Ugh, just paralyze him already!” the woman shouted. The gash on her forehead had shortened her patience, and the pain kept her from being intimidated. Besides, her distance from Vincent put her in a safe position. “It’s obvious he won’t touch the artery!”

  The other two considered it for a moment, the one with curls being the most skeptical due to his proximity to Vincent and the artery.

  “Even if he does touch it, I’ll pull you away instantly, don’t worry,” the leader said, sounding more confident now. “Let’s not be intimidated. Let’s do what we came here to do.”

  With a bit of self-persuasion, his pursuers regained their confidence and, with it, resumed the threat.

  “You’re going to stop producing those pipes.”

  “No,” Vincent repeated, his hand still resting near the artery.

  They were more confident now, but they couldn’t help glancing nervously at his left hand, so close to the pulsing red root… completely ignoring his right hand, buried inside his satchel.

  “Why do you have to make this so difficult? Do you really want me to hurt you? Do you know how painful it is to have a bone broken? Do you know how painful the spell that sets it and fuses it back in place is?” the leader said in a threatening tone. “You don’t know, because you’ve never been on an adventure, you’ve never faced a real monster. You don’t scare us, you’re just a human.”

  “A human? Yes… a very powerful one. You don’t know my true power. You don’t know what I gained when I awakened again.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Oh? Are you sure? How do you think I’m able to produce so much? How do you think I screwed over Edgar’s business so easily? This tower feeds me, gives me life, and lends me its power. Do you really want to test me?”

  The threat worked for only a second, but without a demonstration of power he wouldn’t be able to repel them for real.

  Finally, tired of the game, they looked at one another and decided to proceed with the torture. With a slight gesture of approval from their leader, both the woman and the one with curls moved in from either side, ready to restrain him. The leader stayed back, silently conjuring something, whispering to himself.

  Now! He’s about to cast a spell!

  He had to act. He had to use it.

  First, he exaggerated the movement of his left hand to draw their attention, bringing it as close to the artery as possible and creating a moment of doubt in his attackers, pulling their eyes away from his dominant hand.

  In one swift motion, his grip already firm on the handle, Vincent drew the weapon from his satchel and aimed from the hip like a gunslinger. The shot was quick and precise.

  Infusing the pistol with every shred of energy he could muster, it absorbed it almost to the point of draining him dry. The runes flared into action, charging the ignition gem and exciting the anti-mage potion Vincent had prepared.

  The liquid heated instantly, and the wax sealing it shattered before it even had time to melt. A brutal surge of energy caused the potion to vaporize on the spot, expanding through the chamber and blasting out of the nozzle in a precise jet of searing vapor, slamming directly into the leader’s face.

  Not all of the liquid vaporized. Part of it was expelled as droplets, scorching the man’s skin even further. He was in the middle of a conjuration, his mouth slightly open, and much of the vapor went straight into his lungs.

  With his face burned and his throat aflame, the leader dropped his staff, coughing violently as he clutched at his neck.

  The other two glanced toward him for a split second, making the fatal mistake of taking their eyes off Vincent.

  Still holding the pistol, Vincent smashed the solid rear end into the nose of the woman on his left. She was thrown backward, her head snapping against the stone wall.

  On his right stood the man with curls, still stunned by what had just happened. Vincent pivoted and slammed the weapon into his throat, shattering the ceramic chamber with a dry, cracking sound.

  All three of his attackers were incapacitated… but they wouldn’t stay that way for long.

  Vincent checked the leader first. He was still clutching his throat, trying to force out a spell while staring at Vincent with furious, bloodshot eyes. The potion seemed to have worked. Frustration flooded the man’s face, quickly followed by fear at being left at the mercy of the one they had just threatened.

  He was met with a kick to the face. Vincent needed to make sure they were all incapacitated, and he could not afford to focus on just one of them.

  The woman, who was trying to regain consciousness after the blow to the head, was greeted with a kick to the abdomen, a welcome-back gift to reality.

  Spinning quickly toward the man with curls, Vincent found him in a similar state, trying to cast something, unable to utter a word due to his damaged trachea and the faint residual effects of the potion he had inhaled. When the man realized he could not conjure anything, his expression shifted instantly to panic, hands raised in a plea for mercy as Vincent closed in.

  Without thinking further, Vincent grabbed him by the collar of his tunic and shoved him against one of the arteries. The indirect contact through clothing was not enough to shield him from the brutal surge of energy that tried to invade his body. Part of that energy reached Vincent as well, and only when he felt he could absorb no more did he pull the man away from the artery, letting him collapse unconscious onto the floor, his meridians completely scorched.

  He did the same to the woman, who begged weakly as Vincent seized her arm and forced her to touch one of the arteries. This time the contact was much briefer. He did not intend to kill her. He only wanted to atrophy her meridians, to make her incapable of ever attacking him again, to frighten them for life.

  “What are you doing? You’re going to kill her!” the leader shouted in a hoarse voice, barely able to form the words. ““But it's just a little one… it won’t kill her, right? You tried to throw me against one hundreds of times larger…”

  The man fell silent. He had tried to kill Vincent, and now his life was in Vincent’s hands.

  Slowly and menacingly, Vincent approached the leader lying on the floor. He wasn't moving slowly out of a lack of hurry. Quite the contrary. He had too much.

  While his atrophied meridians severely limited his magical capacity, the truth was that Vincent possessed extraordinary control over energy. By using the other resurrected ones as buffers, he was able to “store” part of that energy, forcing it to circulate rapidly through his body. It was like juggling, like keeping a hoop spinning around himself. As long as he did not stop, he could sustain it.

  That trick came at a cost. Overloading his meridians damaged them, cracked them, caused fissures to appear in the channels the longer he kept that external energy flowing. Controlling it demanded absolute concentration, and that was why he had to move slowly… speak slowly.

  “What are you going to do to me?” the leader whimpered as Vincent crouched down to his level.

  “I told you I had power… but you refused to believe me. I’ll have to show you.”

  The man could barely move, so it was not difficult for Vincent to take him by the hands. He interlaced their palms and connected their meridians. The man possessed a much stronger flow, but Vincent had far superior control, and he also held the advantage that his target was terrified, unfocused, and incapable of moving his meridians voluntarily due to the potion.

  He was not sure this would work, but if he wanted them to stop bothering him, he had to terrify them. He had to make them think twice before ever trying to attack him again.

  Doing the same thing he had seen Lily do to unblock his meridians, Vincent began to control the energy flowing out of his own body and into the other man’s. It was a far more complex process than manipulating it within himself, but it was still something he could do.

  The energy entered through the palm and slid toward the fingers, extending through the wrist and up to the forearm. This was something Vincent would never have been capable of under normal circumstances, but now he had a temporary buff of energy stolen from the tower. The more energy that flowed into his enemy, the easier the process became.

  This was not exactly what Lily had done. She had been careful. Vincent had no intention of being so.

  “Wahhhh!” the man screamed in pain. “S-stop!”

  Once the energy had spread far enough through his body, Vincent stopped controlling it. He let it flow chaotically. He allowed it to pierce the channels, to tear the meridians apart from the inside.

  The pain was familiar to him. Inflicting it on someone else did not give him pleasure… but he needed to mark them. He needed them to learn.

  He could not avoid feeling guilt over the act of torture he was committing. Even though those same resurrects had tried to kill him only minutes ago, he did not enjoy causing pain… but he also could not allow that to show on his face.

  That was why Vincent chose to fully step into the role.

  “Do you want me to take away your ability to use magic? Do you want me to disintegrate your meridians?”

  The man shook his head frantically. The other two, barely conscious, watched the scene in terror, unable to intervene.

  “Then don’t ever fuck with me again. Don’t come near me, and let me work in peace. If you get in my way, a fate worse than death awaits you… I have the power to turn you into empty husks if I so desire.”

  That, of course, was a lie. But they did not know that.

  Vincent feigned doing the same to the other two. They offered no resistance; their expressions made it clear they had understood the message. He was still angry, but not enough to kick them while they lay on the floor.

  They made me lose my new weapon, they made me run, and they made me use one of my gems. I can’t leave empty-handed.

  Vincent picked up the man’s staff and examined it. It seemed like an appropriate reward for all the trouble.

  “I’ll be keeping this, understood? Not a word of this to the custodians.”

  The man nodded weakly.

  And that was how Vincent escaped his persecutors. He did not know how much they had seen through his tricks, nor whether they had realized how little energy he could actually control, but with how badly injured they had been left, it was certain they would think twice before ever bothering him again.