Curselock

Chapter 46: Chameleon

With all of his strength, Glenny stabbed down with both daggers. The blades dug slightly into the basilisk’s hide, locking in place. He leveraged himself over his target, pushing his entire weight into the top of his weapons. Something snapped under the force, causing him to stumble away from the monster.

He fell into the snow, only just gaining his balance in time to dodge a tail whip. He rolled, creating as much distance as he could. The basilisk flailed, a small amount of blood leaking out of its hind leg.

It spun, searching for the little mosquito that dared to harm its impenetrable body. It barreled through trees and mounds of snow, all the while shaking the landscape like an active fault line. It sniffed the air, turning in Glenny’s direction.

The young man quickly closed his eyes, not wishing to be turned to stone. He sprinted through his mind’s eye – dodging trees by memory alone. He circled around in a wide arc, easily out speeding the monster’s slow waddle. It was then he saw his weapons.

Both blades were jutting from the basilisk’s leg, one of which was snapped at the hilt. Glenny cursed internally, activating his Legacy’s most famous ability. His tongue launched forward and like a lasso, connected with his dagger and returning the weapon to his hand.

Single knife combat was not his favorite, in fact it was something he rarely trained in. Glenny cursed again, this time for his laziness.

Dagger in hand, he rushed forward just like he had been doing for the past two hours. Using the extra momentum, he stabbed hard into the beast’s leg. Again, however, the wound he created was only superficial.

Eying the basilisk’s tail, Glenny tried to remove his dagger. It was stuck, sandwiched in between a cut of its own design. Dread fell over the young man as he pulled to no avail, eventually having to dodge away.

“Two hours of durability,” he whispered to himself.

But then he really started to think about his statement. He had been running around the basilisk for two hours. In the snow. In the cold. It was the parasitic cloak he knew. It fueled him, kept him keen and energized. Too bad it wasn’t enough.

I can gift you the power.

The world washed over in red as both of Glenny’s eyes sparkled with illegitimate whispers. The Sightless King, he knew, the power left over from the sigil. He saw strands of movement around him, each glowing red with corrupted power. The power the Huntress told him he adapted to.

“Shut up,” Glenny seethed through gritted teeth.

This wasn’t the first time the power trapped within his body offered prizes and gifts. Back in House Onryo the whispers were around. They spoke in low dull chants, like those of a divine hymn, but with a hint of true promise. Simply let the Sightless King take over.

The sound of multiple trees snapping broke Glenny from his internal struggle. Not fast enough to dodge, however. A spiked tail sheared above the snow, rocketing into Glenny’s guarded form. His arms absorbed the attack but not before shattering from the force.

He bounded and skidded along the snow, eventually coming to rest just before the basilisk’s maw. It didn’t so much as look at him, and only opened its mouth to swallow everything in front of it.

Pain ruptured through Glenny’s broken body as he forced himself to run. But his focus was less on the monster behind him and more on the monster inside him. It cackled with a horrible harmony, each note reaching beyond Glenny’s fragile mind and instead toying with his primal fear.

You are going to die. Let me in, I’ll take care of the problem. The basilisk will never stop, not until you are dead at least.

The Sightless King pushed the power into his mind space. Glenny suddenly was face to face with his tormentor, the very being he promised Leland and Jude to fight. It was warm, like a fireplace in the dead of winter. It was smart, like a sage or scholar. It was idealistic, like a newly crowned King. It was… it was… hungry, like a starving wolf on the prowl.

Glenny screamed, his vision turning blind. “No!” he screeched, flailing about, punching the visions that plagued his mind.

“Adapt!” he bellowed. “Adapt how!”

His leg abruptly skipped, sending the rogue to the ground like a broken doll. His vision went red as his leg failed to react to his will. He lost control, his knee bending and kicking out like a spring. The feel slipped over his body, feeling for weak cracks in his mental defenses. As he slowly lost control over his broken arm, Glenny forced himself to think, not panic.

In his mind, his parent’s training pushed into the red of the Sightless King.

It was his power now, right? It was his Legacy that collected his pain from the sigil. It was the stress from removing the sigil that moved the timeline. He was young, too young. Not in tune, not with himself nor his Lord. Confidence fell through his pain and was washed away by the whispers.

Suddenly a hand found his shoulder, it gripped him firmly, ushering him away from the bleak darkness. His vision returned to a world of red, blood or vile energy, he wasn’t sure. It was fleeting, however, each time his heart beat, color returned to the snowy mountain.

“Adapt and overcome,” a distinctly feminine voice said. One that teetered on the edge of his memory. “Don’t think, just do.”

Mom!

Glenny spun at the words, only finding a basilisk guzzling up dirt and snow. The monster sniffed the air on occasion, rotating itself around to get a better scent. It eventually turned to face its prey, but Glenny had long since moved.

He saw it, the silver glint of his dagger stuck deep within the monster’s leg. He wanted it, he wanted to feel at least some bit of power – the power only a weapon could provide. False confidence or not, Glenny wanted to hold something he was familiar with. Something to ground himself back to reality.

His first knife, Glenny remembered, was stolen from his parents' collection. He took it one night while they were both asleep. He snuck into their small armory, taking one that fit his hand nicely. He remembered feeling smug about it, that he had stolen from two powerful rogues. At least, until his mother burst his bubble by stealing it back the next day.

Still, Glenny had felt strong holding the knife. He felt like he was equal with his parents despite his age not even reaching double digits. All it took was a weapon, one single blade to feel grander than he had ever felt before.

The dagger stuck in the basilisk came out easy, along with it the power he desperately wanted to conquer. The red in his mind turned dim, the hold the sigil had over him finally snapping.

The Sightless King just sat there, whispering, never acting. It urged him to surrender control with promises of fame and grandeur. But it didn’t force him. It couldn’t. It was nothing more than a trick, one Glenny finally spotted for what it was.

It was only an echo, a part of a much stronger power snatched away from a burning sigil. It was part of him, part of his Legacy. It was no longer the Sightless King’s, although it held some of his instincts.

Glenny crushed the Sightless King’s last will, removing the foreign claim over his adapted power.

Red poured from his skin, bubbling around his body like a suit of armor. It contrasted perfectly against the snow, highlighting Glenny like a ruby within a marble faucet. The power moved his arms for him, accepting his will as absolute.

He fought through the pain of broken arms, stabbing again and again until his dagger gorged the basilisk’s leg. At some point his dagger had broken away, leaving nothing more than a serrated piece of metal attached to a hilt.

It didn't matter, Glenny found, the red power flowing around him understanding his woes. The bubbles moved to his hand, stretching and elongating eventually forming a deadly tip. The ethereal spike glowed with demonic power, digging deep into the monster like hot iron into the very snow on which he stood.

The basilisk roared in pain, sending its tail to ward off any more attacks. Glenny didn’t mind, however, and simply moved on to the next leg.

The Huntress smiled with manic eyes. She was right, again. She loved being right. She laughed, finding the sound oddly disturbing despite her sheer joy. Her emotions quickly died down after that.

It was a shame Glenny had to go through this all now, she thought. His young age would surely be an avenue for turmoil in the future, especially around ‘stolen renown.’ No one would believe he single handedly killed a basilisk, which would most definitely cause a few bar fights down the line.

Still, it was a good problem to have, especially considering the alternative.

The Huntress almost moved to intervene when Glenny failed to dodge a tail whip. With the pain from two broken arms and the mental struggle of fighting for dominance, she felt a break in action would have done the young man well.

But he fixed it himself.

She would have to ask him how later but for now she was content with watching Glenny finish off the beast.

It wouldn’t be but a few more days until they left the mountains. Glenny needed time to figure out his new power and the cloak that kept him going all this time. The cloak, in the grand scheme of things, might be more important than the Sightless King’s touch.

It would be a close comparison but the Huntress had her money on the cloak. Parasitic items simply never stopped growing – at least as long as the wearer progressed.

She watched Glenny stab his conjured dagger into the defenseless mess of a basilisk, then again, and again. And again.