[Vol 2] Ball of Steel

Subject: Mia | Classif.: Barzakh

An unfamiliar numbness crept up Mia’s spine. Shifting her position on the car’s front passenger seat did not ease the sensation, only spread it around her lower back. For a moment, she wondered if she was 40 instead of 14. Or if she had shapeshifted so many times into people and monsters of all sizes, she was turning her spine into an accordion.

Either way, back pain was no joke. She remembered how she gave her Dad massages after he came back from midday drinking, breaking bones and slipping several discs in the process. Nothing he couldn’t heal from. Still, why couldn’t he just heal his back in the first place instead of asking for massages? Granted, she got better at massaging to the point of no longer destroying the vertebrae, so she wasn’t going to complain.

Neither was she going to complain about the car seat. It was a mystery how her Dad obtained the vehicle, but it had to be the most expensive thing he ever owned. Worth more than their entire house, she didn’t have the heart to tell her Dad that the seat was bad. It wasn’t. The leather and cushion were bona fide, quality products. The kinds of materials she’d find in rich mobsters’ homes all the time when she was impersonating them. But when she sat on them then, she didn’t have any backache, so why now?

That was when it dawned on her. It wasn’t the seat. It was her. She had never sat in one spot for such an extended period of time. Running, jumping, and sneaking around all the time had conditioned her body for movement. The lack thereof was making her body uncomfortable. Whispers from her muscles begged her to do some cleaning, maybe even kill a bad guy. Anything but sitting still.

Her eyes drifted slowly to the left, hoping to find a solution somewhere in her Dad. Instead, she found pity. The man looked absolutely dead inside, as always. Driving the car for hours on end, he was more like a robot than a man, operating on autopilot.

But the moment he saw her looking at him, it was as if rays of light shone through his eyes. His grizzled, tired face always seemed to come alive whenever she gave him even an ounce of attention. Seeing him force a smile made her smile, too. She knew her Dad was fighting a lot of demons inside himself, so for him to drop all of that, even for a moment, made her feel so much more special as his daughter.

Not wanting him to take his eyes off the road for too long, she turned to the back seat, stealing a glance at Lynn instead. The Immortal leaned her chin on her hand, supported on the door frame, as she gazed out of the window. Mia could see thoughts running around in her head, but was unable to read them. There was always something off about the princess, as if who she was and who she claimed to be were completely different people. From attempting to kill the queen to randomly deciding to teach her magic on a whim, Lynn was unpredictable, equally stupid and smart in Mia’s eyes.

But almost as if she detected that observation in Mia’s head, the princess shot a glare at her out of nowhere. Eyebrows tensed inward, as if the act of looking was a crime. Mia turned away, not out of fear, but because she remembered something. Just before their arm-wrestling session, she received a nifty tool that could help her better control magic. And with her teacher’s daggerlike gaze being a silent reminder not to waste time, she felt this was as good a time as any to train. Bonus points if it could distract her from her back pain.

Mia reached into the glove compartment, taking out a soft, black sphere. It sat on her palm, waiting to be squeezed like a stress ball. For anyone else, it definitely looked the part. But the squishy toy was anything but. Denser than lead and weighing about 5 lbs, the ball was taken from Pris’s armory of Barzakh-Class magical objects. A Regalia called Satan’s Scrotum.

Mia wasn’t sure of its origins or even who Satan was, but she felt sorry for him. According to Lynn, the true purpose behind this Regalia was unknown, but because of its unique properties, it would work as a magic stresser—essentially gym equipment, but for building magic instead of bulk. When channeled with sufficient magic, the ball would deform, making it a suitable tool to practice magic control.

But it was easier said than done.

Retracing the moments of the arm-wrestling session within her head, Mia pried the lid of that specific memory open, her mind grabbing onto the emotions swirling within her during that time. The same insults and provocations Lynn hurled at her replayed like a broken record, further amplified by the ache attacking her lower back. Muscles tensed. Her face scrunched. The discomfort in her body grew as her imagination inflicted self-abuse. Not much different from physical exercise, only this time the damage was mental.

Fueling her magic with rage, the burning sensation in her hand now came from her core instead of the weight of the sphere. But this time, she paid closer attention to her breathing, not wanting to make the same mistake of forgetting to manage her heart rate. Yet, even with both key components of Acritae accounted for, the Regalia remained the same.

Frustration isn’t an emotion, Mia reminded herself. Only a symptom. She kept taxing her mind harder. Squeezed the anger out of every brain cell, then twisted each one like a cloth rag. An entire war was waged within her chest cavity, muscles fighting to hold back her wrathful heart from beating out of control.

But when she felt a hand on top of her head, all of the negative emotions inside her were instantly whisked away.

“Daaaad!” She protested with a pout.

There was no way to maintain her focus with her Dad doting on her. It was impossible to feel any anger with his hand brushing against her hair. All the rage she built up melted like honey, replaced with a flash of joy. No good. She had to draw the line so that she could focus on her magic training.

“Sorry, but you might want to sit tight.” He had a look of both affection and concern. A smile that wasn’t happy. “The ride’s gonna get a little bumpy.”

-----

Subject: Mortimer | Classif.: Sirath

So that’s where it’s been, Tim thought as the dots in his head connected. Seeing Satan’s Scrotum again after so many years sent waves of memories rippling within his skull. He looked at the Regalia fondly, remembering how the owner got absolutely humbled by Pris. If not for that incident, it might have been his ball in Mia’s palm instead.

Gratitude weaved between those fragments of memories, tying them into a bundle of nostalgia. His heart burned it as a silent offering to that fallen devil, as thanks for saving his hide. But there would be no response. Neither alive nor dead, the Aberration had been multisected and turned into over 300 separate Regalia. In theory, should all of them be reunited, Satan would return.

But with most of the magical objects strewn out across varying realities, the one that Mia had was completely safe and stable, unlike most of the stuff Pris kept in the armory. He also didn’t need to worry about her accidentally soulbinding the Regalia since it was still tied to the original owner. Just the thought of the ball expanding into something like Lynn’s greatsword chilled his bones cold. But knowing his daughter was in no danger from using the Regalia warmed him back right away.

Still, he was surprised at her using it as a conduit for training her Acritae. She was taking magic far more seriously than he expected. Thanks to Lynn, no doubt. Maybe it was a good thing, since Mia would be exposed to more danger soon. But he couldn’t shake the reservations and unease in himself.

Mia’s Gift had always been a mystery to him, requiring no magic for activation whatsoever. Most children on The Surface would only start manifesting their Gift at around four to six, with another ten years or so needed to achieve proficiency with it. And with Gift proficiency tied to magical control and output, public schools adopted a one-size-fits-all approach. Everyone had different Gifts; not all were meant for combat.

On the other hand, a noble like Lynn should have access to better, more bespoke magical education for her Gift, possibly even a mentor. Given how strong she was even at her young age, that person might even be Terra. Regardless of one’s upbringing, Gifts and magic had always been tied together. Two sides of the same coin.

Until he met Mia.

Calling her a biological anomaly would not be a stretch. As far as he was aware, she had fully mastered her Gift from the very start. Being able to not only copy one’s appearance but also their soul, while simultaneously maintaining said transformation indefinitely, was a level of mastery not even centuries-old Immortals could achieve. This would be the equivalent of the queen being able to stop time without holding her breath.

There was simply no need to teach her magic. Any gap in combat that needed to be filled in was covered by guns, and she already mastered that, too. In his eyes, Mia was an overachiever who had accomplished more than anyone else her age. Seeing the pain written on her face while she wrestled with her emotions, training Regalia in hand, simply didn’t feel right.

Why should she suffer because of his decisions? Children should not bear the burdens of their parents. By asking her to obtain information from Oleous’s bot, he had already made her complicit. But for her to push herself even further, trying to learn magic…

He had no scientific evidence for this and was purely going off a hunch, but what if it made her Aberrate faster?

There was not enough data to back up his theory, but from his experience, Aberrations had a tendency to infiltrate reality in areas of heightened emotions. The Armageddon Angel was a perfect example of this. His mother’s “curse” might be a different thing altogether, but it was still a risk. He could only hope she wouldn’t overfeed into her emotions for the sake of learning magic.

Hell, it might be worth letting her take an acting class or two in Anterey. Somewhere where she could explore her emotions safely. Who knows, maybe she might even find her calling as an actress? With her Shapeshifting, she was practically born for it. He could already imagine Mia on the poster of every single blockbuster, just as different people. A real superstar, not like him who only made it as a stunt actor.

As long as it didn’t mean becoming a doctor, he would support her to the ends of the Spire.

But for now, she would need to put the Regalia down and take a break from training. He could sense the Distortion up ahead. And he didn’t want the metal ball to smash the windshield or someone’s skull.

Giving her a pat on the head, her face lit up even as she tried to hide it.

“Daaaad!”

Hearing her call out his name, miffed and stretched, felt like they never left Pitstop at all. It was never their home. Their home was with each other. And at this moment, this home had to weather a storm.

“Sorry, but you might want to sit tight. The ride’s gonna get a little bumpy.”

Just as he said that, a purple thunderstorm shattered the night sky like glass. Tim veered the car to the left, dodging a bolt of lightning as the entire world seemed to tilt upward.

Maybe being a stuntman wasn’t so bad after all.