I decided that now was the time to put the full power of this body to the test. I allowed my mind to sink into the deepest state of deceleration it could, and suddenly, constant fire turned into one bullet every three seconds. I moved my hands; I could still move normally, a testament to the speed of my form. I took a deep breath, and ran from cover, picking up a knife from one of my earlier assailants. As I weaved through bullets making my way to my assailants, I felt elegant and free, like a dancer on a stage, performing a beautiful ballet for an adoring audience. When I would reach an assailant, I would slash their throat, the blade cutting through like butter with the strength I put behind it. I continued my way through them, testing my limits: I got a little faster, a little stronger, and in the last swing, I severed the head of the gunman completely, without using the knife.
The other gang members came down the stairs, followed by the big bouncer and a woman in a luxurious suit. She had blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, and a strong jawline with broad shoulders. Her build was lean, but I could tell she was strong and fierce, and judging from the other’s deference to her, I reasoned she was the leader here.
“Why are you causing a ruckus in my establishment?” she said, her tone incredulous. I laughed at her question; down here, the bass was muffled enough that I could hear her rabbit heart beating. She was afraid of me; hell, with all the adrenaline pumping through me, this werewolf heart threatening to burst out of my chest, I was afraid of myself. But I still felt this power, this joy; maybe that made me an evil person, but it was me or them right now, and I didn’t care anymore.
“I am here because I could smell your sin from miles away. And I will end you.” I pulled down my scarf and showed my face, the sadistic grin underneath now plain to see. I looked down at the guns on the ground, and thought of how easily I could end this if I used them. But there was an animal in me, screaming, and I needed to satiate it. So I ran towards them, as fast as I could, and they couldn’t even draw their guns in time. As I slaughtered the henchmen, I thought of what Silaqui said about the man in the alley, how fighting normal humans was like fighting children. Should I feel guilty about what I was doing to them? I reached the bouncer, and hesitated for a moment; he responded by stabbing me in the chest. The knife pierced deep into me, his strength much more than that of the average human. I cried out in pain, staggering back down the stairs, before yanking the knife from my chest.
“Eat.”
I took my glove off, and swung past the bouncer, before grasping the neck of the blonde-haired leader. Suddenly, I was in the void, watching her memories. She was a murderer, arsonist, kidnapper, she hooked people on drugs to control them with a vice, she pimped out people who were desperate for money. I saw their mortified expressions, and felt the satisfaction in her heart as she dominated these people, taking everything they had just to elevate herself a little more. I drank these Vantas, feeling them enter my bloodstream, and I felt my body bursting with power, far more than what I had received from the man in the office. I snapped back to the room, releasing the woman, watching her crumple into a sobbing heap on the floor. The bouncer tried to grasp for me, but without looking, I twisted his arm, causing two compound fractures in his forearm and shoulder.
I turned around, and looked at the carnage I had wrought, the blood I had spilled. Several people were still in the room; they were noncombatants, drug addicts or drug mixers who were whimpering and crying in corners, scared for their lives. I rejoiced at their misery; they deserved to be scared. They were just as guilty, and there was only one man stopping me from tearing them apart too. The bouncer went to strike me again with his good arm, a last desperate attempt at life. I raised a hand, and he burst into a black flame, screaming in agony as he tumbled down the stairs. I watched him roll around, but the flames were unquenchable, and he lay still after a moment. I began to walk down the steps towards the people, cowering, when a voice stopped me in my tracks.
“What have I done?” the woman shouted over and over, looking at the madness of her creation. Was she truly regretful? My sadism gave way to my curiosity, this power still new and foreign, and so I put the glove back on my hand, walked back up to her, and grabbed her face, pointing it up at me.
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“What have you done? And what will you do to fix it?” I asked, the growl in my voice feral and fierce.
“I’ve hurt people,” she said, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I’ve done nothing for the last decade but hurt people and Folk. And I want to atone. I'll call the police. I'll tell them everything. Please, give me a chance. You can kill me later if you want, I deserve it, but please, these people deserve justice.” There was an authenticity to her voice, a sincerity that I knew was unmistakably true. Suddenly, the bestial desire for blood and fire began to quiet in me, as I saw what my power could truly be. It would take time, and I wouldn't stop bombs, but I could be Silaqui‘s Champion.
“Call the police, and tell them everything you know. I won't come for you if you do, but you will go to prison. That is how you will atone. You can talk of me if you wish. But do not describe me, please,” I requested. She nodded in response; I wasn't sure if she would keep her word, but the positives of her confession outweighed the negatives of being outed in my mind, and so I simply let it be. As I walked away, she immediately pulled out her phone, and dialed 911.
I stopped in the alley outside of the club, a storm in my head. Deep sin ran through my veins, and trouble tormented my mind. This Vanta I had consumed, it whispered sweet desire into my heart, temptations so inviting that I couldn’t help but indulge. I felt so hungry, an insatiable appetite that I knew could only be filled by more Vanta. Even though I was ready this time, and I was willing to consume her Vanta, the feelings I had were abysmal. I felt amazing power, but an incredible urge to run rampant and do everything my heart desired. Right now, I wanted to run free in the night, test my limits more, hurt more people, but I knew better; Silaqui would tell me to rest and wait for it to clear my system. Silaqui, even when she wasn’t with me, will be what saves me tonight.
I made my way home, putting my full disguise back on, aware that I looked terrifying in my powered state. As I walked, I thought about the bouncer, and how I lit him on fire without even thinking about it, those strange black flames that didn’t go out. Silaqui told me I was capable of magic, but I thought magic required incantations; I wasn’t aware you could do magic innately. Maybe this was a skill I could hone, so I could control it without having to consume Vanta. As I walked up the stairs to my apartment, I could feel things begin to tranquilize within me; maybe Vanta wasn’t as bad as I thought. But then I remembered what I did before the Vanta, how many people I killed, how it felt to slice through flesh like butter, to snap bone like twig, and how much I truly enjoyed it. Maybe the Vanta wasn’t the problem; maybe the problem was me.
I sat on my couch and watched one of my grandfather’s recommended movies. As I saw the samurai fight each other in black and white, battling for their lives, I wondered if the people living in those times felt the same thrill that I felt against all of those people tonight. I thought of the smile on Dae-su Oh’s face after he beat all those men in that hallway, knowing he conquered them, that he was better. This was why I trained so hard as a human, to be strong enough to never lose anything I didn’t want to lose. But I must’ve turned into a monster somewhere along the way, a sadist that took joy in hurting others. I shamed Joon-hu with violence, hurting him when I could’ve made a friend. But I remembered something in that moment, a memory I had blocked away for a long time.
Aera and I were sitting in my room, kissing, when she wanted to take things further. That day I had a harsh realization about how masculine I had become, so I tried to shy away, saying that I was tired from Tae-Kwon-Do. She kept insisting, and insisting, and before long, the insisting turned to begging. She told me she needed me, that it was painful for her, that if I didn’t it meant I didn’t love her. I said no stil, as my body felt like a used dish ragl; these were things she said to me often, and I had grown accustomed to being bombarded with coercions. But then she took an Exacto-knife out from my desk, and pulled up my sleeve. When I asked her what she was doing, she responded by cutting me quick and deep, a small flow of blood streaming down my arm.
“Now you know how I feel,” she said, a smile on her face.
My thoughts returned to the room, only moments later, and tears were in my eyes. What had I become?
