Stolen Futures

Never had pain and suffering been embodied within a single idea, concept or individual. It was a nebulous thing. Something that was hated and despised but couldn’t be targeted. Too vague and unknowing to be struck at. It had no form or personality. Nothing to be struck down to end. And while that remained true, Hachiro represented it better than Yori had ever found. Never had there been an opportunity. A perfect opportunity. The only chance. His moment.

How much trouble would it really be if he just decked the man? Would anyone really care? Did any of these people even think about the others? They were all selfish, egotistical assholes that saw nothing. Disgusting, every last one of them. The only concern was if they lived; if someone else died, it was poor luck on their part. That was how their world worked, right?

Yori had maintained his silence for longer than he should, still staring at Hachiro. “Yes, I see them while I’m working.”

“Do you now? Warms the heart to know my products are pleasing people.” Pleasing wasn’t the word that Yori would pick. And while there wasn’t this over-the-top evil smirking grin to punch in like Yori would have preferred, the middle-aged man still took pride in every word. As if the work he was somehow doing was worthy of praise and honor. The bastard ruined lives and stole people from their homes. Death alone wouldn’t be enough to ease the sins he built.

Would even the underworld truly miss him? There were plenty like him. They should all be killed. But just one wouldn’t change the balance. But it would be satisfying. So simple a thing would be possible. Just one punch. “Yes, they’ve been very productive in the field.”

He had to resist. The promise he made to Miho counted on it. Shiori had to be freed. Innocents were on the line. “If you’re so pleased with our goods. I can show you some of our new lineup. Improved integrated spellcrafted and greater Veil dampening. Cutting-edge products.” The man really knew how to be a worm.

“Why not?” Yet despite his disgust, his mouth just answered like it was desperately trying to keep up an act that his brain wanted to fail.

The businessman motioned Yori over to one of the side halls of the large interior. Others stood around either talking or checking out what was on sale. An entire marketplace of human weapons. Each person displayed as if they were just an accessory to be bought from a store. Which was only made worse by the fact that none of the merchandise retained that awareness anymore. Completely corrupted by the vile acts of men and women with no conscience or morals.

But Hachiro directed him through the passageway into a new adjoining room. There were fewer gathered around, allowing for the goods to be easily viewed. Every wall had several displays. Yori was boiling, nearly to the point of becoming red. While there were a couple of just magic items, it was almost entirely people.

Directed over to the right side, Hachiro proudly called out his company’s work. “This class is the latest generation in anti-Veil spellcraft. Given six months of dedicated training.” More like hellish slave work that brutishly pounded in casting and mana management through life-or-death challenges each day. It was supposedly not killing their personnel; they’d have to steal more innocents. But it was very real and harmful.

He continued, “Memory wiped to a complete blank slate. So they make for the perfect fill-in. We even provide pre-programmed memory engrams that you can add to create certain conditions. Customized memories can be ordered, but naturally are more expensive depending on your needs.” Nothing of the person remained. If they were rescued, could anything of who they were be restored? How thorough was the destruction? Was it even erased or painted over top?

The Veil did the same. Which was worse? Could it even be judged? Fists clenched, more rubbing skin raw. “No risk of relapse?” This couldn’t continue. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Once they’re wiped clean, nothing of their past selves remains. Complete destruction of the ego. Rebuilt, they are perfectly obedient tools. While others remain on conditioning and medication to induce corrective measures, we’ve found it far more efficient and useful to rebuild than try to work around a personality. It just gets in the way.”

Murder. One single act wouldn’t be a problem. Yori was allowed that. All his acts in the service of the damn Akasha earned him this reward. Hachiro presented as if he were a noble, doing things better. This activity should never be happening. He deserved to die.

Around him was just more reason, more examples of what was wrong. It was all wrong. The whole thing was corrupt. “Impressive work.”

“It’s taken decades of refinement. But we promised the finest quality.”

“Yes, it’s good work.” Terrible work. ‘Everything needs to burn… This whole system is rotten to the core. What are you doing? What am I doing? We allow this to exist! Akasha lets this injustice happen! It's just as guilty as the humans that profit from this. This is all wrong.’ A new form of rage built in Yori, unlike anything else. Broad and unfocused, but clear as never before. There was no darkness, just unconditional rejection. Completely binary and inflexible, reforged in sin to destroy all.

Everything had to be corrected.

Everything was wrong.

Humans were wrong.

Akasha was wrong.

Pain suddenly gripped Yori in his eye. The one that belonged to Akasha. Like a flame burning in his skull. It seared into his bone. Yori started to sweat, nearly bending over from the pain.

“You feeling well, sir?”

Yori snapped himself back. The inferno in his socket eased finally. “Yes, I just think the salmon was disagreeing with me a little.” He couldn’t check his eye, but it had never felt like that before. He didn’t know what it meant. But it purged with the pain all of his immediate rage.

It still rested at the surface, but his reason returned. He remembered the mission. Shiori remained. He had to help Miho first before he allowed himself any sort of justice. Innocents, they were first. They could still be saved. The already trained sorcerers were possibly lost, but the others may not.

“I’ll be fine. It’s already passing.”

“Perhaps, the sight of the price was too much for your stomach,” they joked.

“I’m sure you have something affordable for a small business.”

“We can definitely talk numbers.” A chiming rang through the entire structure signaling the approaching commencement of the main event. “Where does the time go? We can speak after the auction if you like.”

“Please.” They handed him a business card. It felt like lead in his hand. Yori roughly pocketed it as they departed the company. He was freed from temptation. Opening his hand, he saw red cuts where his nails dug in. He could only ignore it for now.

Walking with the general motion of the others, he reached the massive amphitheater-like structure where the auction would be held. It was insulting how many people it could hold. The underworld was vaster than he realized. There was no overturning such a deeply ingrained world. But it still had to be turned.

The only promise for the main event was that it might not be as disgusting to witness as the macabre bazaar. Their auction dealt in raw goods as they defined it. Cruelly viewed, mages were unrefined materials to be processed, and what Hachiro and others did was take what they saw as workable material and mold it. Worse, others existed with even worse intentions.

A chance for hope remained to those not sold yet. Yori pinned everything on that.

He would have to wait, but he still hadn’t been given the signal from Miho. ‘Was she late? Did something happen behind the curtain? Should I go find her?’ More of the audience pushed into the theater, filling it up even more. Guards became even more alert to everyone. ‘I have to trust.’

Minutes continued to pass as the main event drew ever nearer. He had to act soon, or else Shiori would be sold. There still wasn’t anything from Miho. He scanned around the theater for any hint of security moving irregularly. All seemed quiet, for now. But what was keeping her? He needed to act, before it was too late now.

Yori backed away a little, getting out of sight of people. He moved towards his eye to take the patch off through the disguise. But as he started to remove the seal from his eye, it didn’t feel right. There was no sense of mana behind it. It was like there wasn’t even an eye there. It was wrong. ‘What happened? That pain from before? It’s gone?’