Chapter 6: Indecision Part 4 - The Multiplication of Men at the Intersection

July 2, 2011, 11:16 PM

This is a city characterized by the blend of tall modern skyscrapers, elegant Victorian architecture, and many other buildings under construction; the past, present, and future coexist here.

In an area filled with office buildings, government offices, museums, shops, and malls, all empty due to the curfew, lay the remains of what was once the headquarters of the Dark Energy Containment Department. It was a beautiful structure with white pillars on its facade, but it had been destroyed the day before by a psychi attack. The rubble shook and flew, further disintegrating due to another explosion. This time it was a small missile.

After the smoke from the explosion was dispersed by the swift winds that had been sweeping the city for the past few nights, and the ashes and debris settled, Philip opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground, with the man in the black suit who had pushed him moments ago standing over him.

Philip instantly recognized that man as George White, the priest in charge of his class. Doubts started to fill his mind, but first and foremost, he had to figure out how George had saved him. As he sat on the ground, aided by the night vision granted by the glasses Bill had made for him, he could see a faint vibration in the air surrounding them.

"A barrier of Dark Energy!" Surprise made him tremble. It never crossed his mind that George could be a psychi. Now he had another question to answer: Why did George save him? No... Why did he save "Zero"?

"Are you alright, kid?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Somehow."

George dissipated the barrier and walked to the side.

"Don't worry, we're not your enemies. You don't have to die either. You're the hope of this city. Just let us handle the more troublesome matters, and you can take the credit."

"Us...?"

George knelt nearby and picked up the shining stone among the small fragments of concrete, along with burned flesh and a Venetian mask. Philip opened his eyes and, after coughing a bit, shouted.

"Why didn't you save her too?"

"It doesn't make sense. She can't die completely."

"What?"

"Let's save these discussions for later. I have something to take care of first. Besides, I'd prefer if you went home. It's going to get dangerous here soon."

George raised the stone, which illuminated and disintegrated into purple particles that surrounded his body before disappearing. He looked at his hand, opening and closing it repeatedly.

"Yes, it's an adequate amount of power."

Philip remained seated on the ground, in shock from everything that had just happened. George floated toward the street and stood in the middle of the intersection. He took a small piece of bread out of his pocket and, before eating it, began reciting some words.

"Whoever eats of this bread will live forever, and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh."

After eating it, dozens of shadows began to form around him, and black smoke emerged from them. The smoke gradually climbed and took shape, eventually resembling humans emerging from the shadows. Within seconds, Philip could distinguish that the smoke taking on the appearance and attire of George.

"That's his ability?! He just created over fifty copies of himself out of thin air!"

"What the hell...?"

Using the night vision of his glasses, he could see in the distance—on the rooftops of buildings and clinging to balcony railings—around eight people dressed in black suits.

These black-clad individuals approached George at high speed. Only when they were about fifty meters away from George and eighty meters away from him did Philip get a good look at them. Six men and two women, young, between the ages of sixteen and thirty, or at least that's how they appeared based on their physical build. They wore a black mesh with internal armor, a black hood, and their mouths and noses were covered by black masks. They moved using cylindrical devices that deployed from their calves and released pressurized gas downward, allowing them to fly. Each one had a wrist crossbow.

Philip instantly recognized the attire and features of these individuals. They were members of the Brotherhood RG, the country's most famous mercenary group.

"Are they also after the stones?! "

Cold sweat started running down his body as he realized that George was about to confront them. George's copies flew quickly towards the mercenaries, flying close to the buildings near the intersection. Upon seeing the frontal attack, the mercenaries shot arrows at the copies. Some hits were successful, while others were dodged, leading to close combat. The copies that were hit by arrows disintegrated, turning back into black smoke. Each mercenary was facing at least twelve copies.

The copies were not very resistant. Arrows eliminated them instantly, but they were quite skilled in close combat. Philip assumed they had a similar or equal ability to the original body, although with the limited exchanges of blows, they would eventually break down. In less than five minutes, the mercenaries had already eliminated almost half of them. The fight now took place on the ground, and Philip supposed that the gas used by the black-clad soldiers for their mobility must not be abundant.

He couldn't decipher whether George had a plan or if he was genuinely losing so heavily. He didn't even know where the original George was. He knew perfectly well that if George lost, it would be very difficult to trace that Eyre stone he possessed. It was the only clue he had regarding the incident on June 21. If he wanted more information, George couldn't lose.

Gathering courage and ignoring the pain caused by the seal on his wrist, Philip stood up from where he was and moved towards the ongoing battle at the intersection. All the mercenaries were skilled in different forms of combat. He realized this as he observed them. Although, George and his copies were not far behind. In terms of pure skill, they were evenly matched, but this was not just a fight of proficiency; it was also a numbers game. Despite George seeming to have the advantage in that regard, in practice, it wasn't the case. One after another, his clones were disappearing, and there were no traces of him. "He probably escaped with the stone," one of the soldiers muttered.

A bright purple light emerged above everyone. It came from one of the rooftops, a few buildings away. It was George. One of the mercenaries shouted with a deep voice, "There he is! Don't let him escape!" As most of the mercenaries headed towards the area where the light appeared, Philip seized the opportunity that one of them was left behind. He appeared behind the mercenary and struck him with his right fist. The man fell, hitting his head against the asphalt. Philip hit him in the face to make sure he was unconscious.

At that moment, someone fell on Philip, kicking him from behind his head. He rolled on the ground to distance himself and looked at who had attacked him. Standing in front of him was one of the two mercenaries he had identified earlier. She looked young, slender, and a few brown strands of hair escaped from her hood. Philip noticed which wrist she held her crossbow on to be cautious—it was her right.

She assumed a defensive stance, and Philip lunged at her at high speed. As he swung his left arm, intending for her to defend herself and break her crossbow, she extended her body forward even faster, closing the distance between them as much as possible, and struck him from below to the jaw. Then she moved her torso slightly back and punched Philip in the abdomen with her left fist. He leaned back and activated his thrusters to fly backward, but the mercenary deployed the devices on her calves, releasing high-pressure gas, and shot towards him, reaching him instantly. She charged her right arm, and Philip extended his, thinking she would shoot an arrow at him, but that didn't happen. Instead, she kneed him in the stomach. He anticipated her next move and lowered his body just as she directed her arm at him again, this time to shoot an arrow. He managed to dodge it and landed about five meters away.

"Damn it," Philip grunted, clutching his abdomen to alleviate the pain. The mercenary landed in front of him, about five meters away. He sighed and looked up; the remaining six mercenaries were fighting around 30 copies of George. "Seems like he created even more of them. They won't interfere for now." Philip glanced at the mercenary and felt a defiant gaze. 

"The feeling is mutual, huh?"