The wind slipping through the door was as violent as a biblical flood.
"Magnus Truve," Meyer murmured, staring at the shadow in the darkness. His lips curled into a crooked grin. He muttered with delight, "My archenemy."
"I bowed before you, but it's too late now," said Magnus. His bronze fists were clenched, a threatening glare in his eyes. "Let go of my father, if you have any courage. Face me. Isn't revenge between the two of us?"
Meyer wasn't sure if those words rang true. His decision came quickly. "No," he hissed. "I no longer fight for revenge. I am now who I truly am. The vein connecting your betrayal to your father's is severed and the blood stains the ground. I don't want you anymore, Magnus. I want something that hurts you more."
Magnus said, "I knelt before you." There was a tremble in his voice, the echo of retreat. "What you're doing is foolish and pathetic!"
"No one who kneels before me would ever choose those words," Meyer said menacingly. The old man under his arm trembled without pause. Meyer realized that was exactly what empowered him.
"Remember the days we were friends," Magnus said, his voice now a notch softer.
"Those days turned into a stab wound with your betrayal," Meyer said without hesitation.
The Devil Chip spoke: "You want more now, Meyer. Even more. Your greed has reached the heavens—I know. Your hormones and synapses scream for it."
Meyer swallowed, trying not to show it.
His fingers were sweating.
His body was in its most powerful state.
His veins had swollen.
His blood was pumping through every corner of his body.
"Are you trying to offer me something, Magnus? You want me to spare your father's life, I suppose," said Meyer, watching his enemy. He was like a malignant spirit feeding off Magnus' fear.
Then it struck him—he had only wanted the obsidian blades at the beginning. Now he was a devil insatiable for sin.
Magnus threatened, "If you hurt him, you won't make it out alive, Meyer. I'll chop you to pieces with this axe in my hand!"
"You're in the wrong position," Meyer replied.
"We'll see," said Magnus, frowning beneath his brow.
If Meyer locked eyes with him too long, all he would see was betrayal.
He shifted the obsidian blade to his other hand.
Father and son looked at each other in fear.
"This isn't the Magnus I'm used to. I expected more from you," said Meyer, narrowing his eyes.
His opponent's passive stance irritated him.
He wanted Magnus to attack. To fight him and raise that axe in challenge.
With a sudden impulse, he pushed the old man to the ground.
The man thought he'd been shot. Magnus pulled his father to his side.
"Are you alright, Father?"
The man, kneeling, clung to his son.
Meyer felt disturbed by this loving display.
Magnus slipped beneath his father and raised the axe in honor of Meyer's death.
Meyer clenched his teeth. "Now we're talking."
"Talking or getting beaten up?" said Magnus.
"You've forgotten the recent disaster already, haven't you Magnus?" Meyer feigned a puzzled expression.
Magnus kept stepping back, pulling Meyer into the street.
A swirl of dry leaves floated in the air.
Ash from lava lay between the sidewalks.
The air was painted in a shade of orange.
The old man shielded his belongings with his body.
Meyer watched his back while forcing Magnus to move across. You could never turn your back on a stranger.
"I want Magnus' head," he said. He remembered the fantasy—stabbing an obsidian blade into Magnus' chest. Whatever the condition. No matter what. Magnus stood before him now, regardless of his experience, in his most pitiful form. A moment of emotion could toss a man anywhere. Easily.
As Meyer watched the leaves dance in the air, he realized he wanted to play a grander game.
In the reflection of gray light, he saw the crowd and police gathering under the streetlights. He felt the need to escape again. Maybe he should postpone death. But the Devil Chip claimed otherwise. "True transformation is only possible through fear. Not love—fear unlocks all doors."
Meyer felt the voice seeping into his bloodstream like poison.
As if his hands and feet were no longer his own.
Just as Magnus was about to swing the axe, Meyer blocked it with the obsidian blade.
The clashing sounds merged like bonded chains.
Meyer made another move, but as the crowd grew, he felt his safety decreasing.
He felt compelled to give up the duel.
The Devil Chip's words echoed in his ears.
He looked into the eyes of a child standing in the crowd.
At that moment, he threw a right punch at Magnus and dodged the axe. Magnus froze in front of everyone.
A child slipped through the crowd, chasing after his fallen toy. A marble rolled next to Meyer's feet.
The little boy bent his knees and reached down without hesitation.
Seeing Magnus frozen, Meyer realized the boy was alone. His clothes were torn, hands dirty. No one in the crowd held onto him—there was no one to call for him. In that child's shiny black eyes, Meyer saw fragments of his own past.
The Devil Chip commanded, "Bluff."
The police surrounded them. "Hands up! Surrender!"
With one move, Meyer grabbed the child and held an obsidian blade to his throat.
His breathing was rapid.
The voices of the crowd rang in his ears.
"Let the kid go, damn it!" a cop yelled.
Meyer smiled. "As you wish."
"You know what jail's like, kid?" asked an older cop.
"I'm sixty-four years old—shut your mouth!" Meyer yelled.
The officers looked at each other in confusion and lowered their weapons.
"Your joke isn't funny, son!"
"You're the son," Meyer chuckled. "Puah hah!"
He saw the child didn't struggle at all.
He quietly watched where fate was taking him. Without resistance. Without a fight.
As more police cars arrived by the second, the crowd was being pushed away.
Security shields formed a circle around Meyer.
When Meyer took a deep breath, he noticed the truck behind the police vehicle. He blinked to clear the image. That truck... it was the one that had crashed into the police car. The accident replayed in his mind. Just like the day he killed the Cutter, his body began to grow. His muscles expanded, veins darkened. Then he saw the spider watching him from the truck. The same one from the accident.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted.
Meyer watched the fleeing crowd in disbelief.
He couldn't make sense of what was happening. The little boy simply closed his eyes.
Meyer felt the blade slip from his hand, the noises fading.
Someone… His breath was fading. The only thing he felt was the sulfur stinging his lungs. He lost his balance and collapsed to the hard concrete. He didn't even reach to hold his head. All he could think of were the bullets raining down. He knew none of them had pierced him. What knocked him down was the intense smell of sulfur.
From the small slit his eyes could still see through, he saw moving feet.
Then he felt himself being dragged.
Everything went black.
Someone whispered in the mist, "Didn't I tell you? Fear is the key to everything."