It felt like hitting Damascus steel. I reached out — nothing. No texture, no energy. It wasn’t visible with any of my sight modes. Even touch gave me zero feedback. Like poking a philosophical concept.
- Well that’s new… - Mia muttered, analytical gears
- Should we try the ‘charge blindly forward’ approach?- Antwan offered like a true golden retriever in a hoodie.
Honestly? Not a bad idea.
I summoned my stilettos — sleek, whisper-sharp — and plunged them into the invisible wall.
And surprise, surprise — they cut.
The fake air split open like warm cheese. I forced my hands through the slit, then my arms, and finally wriggled my entire body into the gap like a very determined raccoon.
On the other side, I stumbled out. Triumphant.
- - Mia said, oozing sarcastic pride.
-YEEE-HAW! - Antwan whooped. I could practically see him doing a victory shimmy in his chair.
I took a few cautious steps forward, and in my new enhanced sight, the soup of shadow ahead started to move.
It curled. It twisted. Tentacles. Oh hell. Tentacles!
They emerged, writhing, thick and pulsing, slapping the pavement with disgusting wet smacks. Huge chunks of concrete went flying.
- -Uhhhhhh…— I eloquently commented, just as the flailing mass came for me.
My reflexes kicked in.
I dodged left — they missed. Dodged right — another near-miss. Then came the real fun: parkour tentacle dodgeball.
Antwan’s voice cut in:
- Auntie, those things are speeding up! Do something! Helpful, thanks.
I was still holding back, trying not to burn through my energy reserves, so
no fancy mental tricks just yet. My body, though? It moved on instinct.
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I ducked, rolled, did a flipping cartwheel of death, and slashed at any limb that got too close. My blades flickered like silver meteors. Each strike severed a tentacle — only for new ones to sprout like mushrooms with vengeance issues.
It was like trying to fight a blender filled with hate spaghetti.
Two tentacles — probably besties — twisted like insane fire hoses and shot straight at me. I crossed my stilettos in time to block them... but didn’t catch the third sneaky bastard coming in from the side.
It nailed me.
Like really nailed me.
A blizzard of ice roared through my body — cold, sharp, merciless. Tiny crystalline needles cut through muscle, tendon, bone… even deeper, scraping at things no MRI could ever scan. My consciousness. Maybe my soul — if I even had one. Not sure. Jury’s still out on that.
A regular human? Would’ve been a puddle of whimpers by now. But I’m not regular.
I flooded my arteries with ectoplasm, like ghostly saline. It pushed the poison out through my pores — steaming, writhing, angry.
Then I triggered the Quantum Multiplicity.
My body began splitting — not painfully, but weirdly satisfyingly, like peeling off layers of psychic Play-Doh. More and more Alenari’s popped out of me, forming a veritable flashmob of bladed clones.
The tentacle beast didn’t like that.
Its factory of limbs doubled production, spewing fresh squiggly nightmares. But I wasn’t falling behind. The whole battlefield turned into a blur of my doppelg?ngers slicing, spinning, and absolutely wrecking shop.
Me? I bailed. Did a graceful dodge-roll out of the fray and just watched, like an elegant warlord with a popcorn bucket.
The copies were now fully autonomous. Some of them even started duplicating. Congratulations, worm-beast. You just got outsourced.
- You did it! - Antwan shouted through the feed, voice peaking with
- - Mia added coolly. -Your fan club approves.
- Thanks, But I’m out before one of those worms realizes I’m not dancing anymore.
With my updated grayscale vision, I moved quicker, smoother. No tripping over rocks or kissing invisible walls. The battle sounds faded behind me, swallowed by that gut-churning, void-born silence.
The adrenaline dipped, and with it came the post-fight crash. Serotonin pitfall.
Out from that hole crawled new tendrils — emotional ones this time. Sad ones. Personal ones.
Then I heard crying.
At first, I thought it was just... me. Like my depression finally developed vocal cords. But no. It was real.
And then came the silence again.
-Did you hear that? That was creepy. - Mia whispered in my ear. Something honked nearby.
Like… a child’s bike horn. That tinny, shrill little squeal.
It pierced the stillness like a nail through velvet, and I jumped so hard I nearly lost a kidney.
A weird emotion washed over me. Not fear. Not confusion. But grief. Deep, raw, and confusingly nostalgic.
My friends’ voices blurred into static.
I walked forward. The honking synced with my steps. Then it stopped.
And what remained was this… unbearable emptiness. Like something had been torn out of me.
I remembered — or maybe just realized — that I never had a childhood. I wasn’t born. I happened. Fully formed. Already dangerous. Already alone.
I’d never known a mother’s kiss or a father’s hug. No bedtime stories. No lullabies. No games in the yard, no scraped knees, no hide and seek. Just missions. Just targets. Just Dued.
The heartbreak hit hard. I kept walking, barely hearing the sound of my boots.
Then the images started. Flickers. Families hugging. Tiny kids giggling. Moms lifting babies into the air.
My chest tightened like a fist was squeezing it from the inside.
- Mom? Are you there? The voice was small.
A shiver danced across my spine.
- Mommy, please… help me! More silence.
And then…