Ruthless: Path of Conquest

James watched with grim stoicism as the severed head reattached itself to the monster’s body.

“I guess that wasn’t the right method to destroy you with,” James said evenly. He began gathering Soul Mana, but then he immediately stopped. He could feel the Mana was concentrating in his physical body, the one leaning up against the wall of the apartment, not the astral form he presented here.

So I can’t use magic here? He had shown Mina some magic in her dream back in Orientation, but that was a more solid environment—and the magic had not done anything. It was only a demonstration of how magic could be used. Maybe magic only works in the physical world. Or at least I haven’t figured out the trick for using it here yet…

“I hope you have something better in reserve,” Sister Strange said, her voice ringing with mocking laughter. The sound pierced his ethereal form with sharp, chilling vibrations.

“I will destroy you,” James said, his voice filled with hate.

“I have four visions of suffering to show you,” Sister Strange said, her voice suddenly matter of fact, still piercing but no longer infused with her usual ringing echo of near laughter in every syllable. “They are of suffering past that has been, suffering present that is, suffering future that must be, and suffering future that may be.”

“You should be most concerned about your own future suffering,” James said. “When I reach your body in the real world, I’ll make sure you die painfully. You shouldn’t have invaded my territory.”

“That may be,” Sister Strange replied, her voice strangely and disturbingly even. “Even so, I have four visions to show you. If you are not capable of destroying me at this moment, you must choose.”

“Or else?”

A thousand thousand tendrils sprouted from Sister Strange’s body in response to his question.

“I am an expert in the realm of dreams,” she said, her voice full of that mocking amusement that so infuriated him. “Perhaps I have more practice than you. In any case, I can maneuver in this space better than you can. Either you will suffer my visions, or they will.” She pointed her hand at the vast emptiness behind James. The space where his people were, with their vulnerable dreams, their bodies tucked into bed safely—or so they thought.

“A sadistic choice,” he said.

He lunged across the gap between them and placed his hand on her body.

Soul Bind.

The other Skill he had gained when he stole Roscuro’s Soul Eater Talent.

Soul Magic and Soul Bind.

Unlike Soul Magic, he had never seen this one used, but it should bind Sister Strange’s soul. In practice, what he understood that to mean was that he could freeze her in place—though he would have to engage in prolonged physical contact first.

Sister Strange whipped at him with her tentacles, but he ignored them and simply kept his grip on her body. Then the tendrils wrapped around his body. She forced his head up with what seemed to be all her strength and locked eyes with him.

“I do not need freedom of motion to share my vision with you,” she hissed.

The environment around James faded and shifted.

He found himself in what looked to be a small, musty bedroom. The room was in what appeared, from the furniture and style, to be an old, abandoned mansion. There was a window at one end of the room and four open doors at the other. The open doors seemed to have only darkness on their other sides.

She pulled me into a dream?

“Choose a door, or one will be chosen for you,” Sister Strange said.

James leaped at the window and beat his fists against it, but his physical power seemed to have no effect. His hands bounced off the surface like it was made of rubber.

And then the room began, impossibly, to contract. The window and the wall it was embedded in pushed against James, then dragged him backward toward the open doors.

Dream logic. Of course the room can contract. Fuck!

James closed his eyes and tried willing the room to reverse and grow instead, but the environment here did not obey him. Perhaps his powers only worked on the dreams of those who did not have dream abilities of their own.

The wall felt simply physical to him, as if this was no mere dream, yet while his eyes were closed, he felt more aware of his astral body. It seemed that in addition to the self that was in this dream and the self that was slumped on the ground outside of his apartment, the astral form that had been using Soul Bind on Sister Strange was still out there in Dreamspace holding her in place.

That was gratifying. At least she can’t torment anyone else while she has me here, unless I misunderstand her powers.

James turned and faced the doors. Four doors for four visions the specter wished to show him.

He decided not to give in to fear, not to resist this place. Perhaps he would learn something new if he chose the correct door.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but visions can never hurt me, he thought stubbornly, filled with an almost manic energy. Even if they show me death and destruction, I have no reason to think it’s the end in this universe. There are gods and underworlds aplenty if what Anansi told me is true. The end of life is simply another adventure. Even if I lose everything… It’s possible that nothing is ever truly gone.

James’s wild thoughts distracted him for a few seconds while the contracting walls pushed him forward. Finally, he leaped ahead into the closest door, the second from the right.

From a dark and disgusting room, James found himself suddenly in a bright, white environment. He turned his head just in time to see the door disappearing behind him.

Of course.

Everything that had been dream-like and fuzzy about the mansion environment swam into instant sharp relief. Now he was in a place that felt completely real. More solid and distinctive than real places, even.

James looked around. He found himself in a land of snow and ice.

Not as cold as it should be based on the way it looks, he assessed.

The air was chilling, but it touched James only at a remove. He stepped forward and saw that his foot had left no indentation in the snow.

That settled it. He was observing this place, but he was only halfway in this place. He probably couldn’t affect what was supposed to happen here.

Where the hell am I supposed to be, though? Canada? Scandinavia? Siberia?

He heard noise from behind him and turned to look—and saw himself.

This version of James wore an unfamiliar armor set and a cape, but Present-James tore his attention away from Vision-James and looked at the other person present in this desolate place.

Vision-James stood opposite a figure who wore green armor that seemed to cover every inch of his skin.

Present-James watched closely as his alternate self attempted to fight the warrior in green with little success.

Vision-James threw punches, Meteor Strikes, Lightning Strikes, and blows with Roscuro—who took the form of an axe in the vision—at the armored figure. The green fighter blocked some blows and simply allowed others to hit him with no apparent effect. He answered some strikes with counter attacks, heavy blows to Vision-James’s head, knees, and ribs. The warrior in green had a sword at his hip, but he didn’t bother to draw it.

Present-James found that irritating, though he was more preoccupied by how badly Vision-James was losing the fight. His armor was quickly bent or broken in a hundred places, and Present-James began to hear the sounds of cracking ribs and other fractured bones as Vision-James struggled to stay in the fight.

The warrior in green was fighting very efficiently—Present-James found himself reluctantly admiring the fighting technique—but extremely violently.

After one particularly vicious exchange, Vision-James coughed up blood. The warrior in green, by contrast, seemed slightly winded but otherwise completely unhurt.

Vision-James said something, but the sound for dialogue in this vision of the future was apparently turned off, and the armored figure moved so as to block Vision-James’s mouth from Present-James’s view, preventing him from reading his ostensible future self’s lips.

Is this supposed to be the future that will be, or one that might be? Present-James wondered.

Vision-James started charging Soul Magic, and only then did the green figure actually take some evasive action. He dodged a blast of magic from Vision-James, then swept Vision-James’s legs out from under him.

So that’s a weak point, Present-James thought. He’s vulnerable to me attacking his soul, at least.

At that point, the warrior in green armor seemed to stop holding back. The fight turned into a brutal, one-sided beating. With his gauntleted hands, the figure punched Vision-James in the chest and body over and over. Vision-James raised his arms to defend himself, but they were smashed to bloody broken stubs under the onslaught.

Present-James saw Vision-James’s fingers bent and broken, and he winced in sympathy. He saw Vision-James’s face and chest cavity smashed and bloody, and he wondered if this was meant to be a vision of how he would die.

Some context would have been nice, unless this is meant to be unavoidable.

By the end of the struggle, Vision-James was embedded in a man-shaped hole in the snow.

I’ve seen enough now, Present-James thought. But then the vision showed him one more interesting thing.

The man in green walked around and knelt beside the snowy hole. He leaned down and stuck his head into the hole. The best that Present-James could figure, the man seemed to be putting his ear to Vision-James’s chest.

As the figure rose from his position, he said something to himself. Present-James saw his lips and was able to read a snippet of what the warrior was saying.

“—still alive.”

Then a jeweled armband around the warrior in green’s arm glowed a gentle golden color, and suddenly the figure disappeared completely.

Well, at least I apparently fucking survived. Jesus Christ.

The vision faded, and James was left with countless questions. But before he could even formulate them, he was in a new setting, floating in the air and looking down.

At least this place felt more familiar. James recognized the humidity in the air, the types of trees in the background, the swampy ground in some areas below him, and the style of clothing of some people he saw. He was back in Florida.

And that was the extent of his familiarity with the background. The terrain could be anywhere in the state. Someone had built a new city. It was beautiful.

If I saw a city like this, I would want to copy it, he thought.

A thousand shapes that looked like kites flew over the city, dancing in the wind and sunshine.

There were great towers made from types of metal and stone that he could not recognize by name. There were thousands of multi-story houses and apartment buildings made of stone and painted in a thousand shades of blue-green, with red roofs. There were dozens of majestic temples that James knew at a glance were built to honor gods from many different cultures. The city streets were broad avenues laid out in a circular pattern and set with unusually uniform cobblestones. The city’s main street was set between what looked to be the rib bones of some massive, dead creature. Long rectangular ponds with lily pads lined the street as well beneath the ribs.

The city was active with a mix of human and nonhuman activity. People and nonhumans he didn’t recognize walked around, mingled freely, and seemed friendly and happy to move amongst each other.

There was greenery everywhere in the city. Trees and plants blossomed anywhere where a building did not sit, as if the entire city was a park. When he inhaled, he realized there must be a citrus grove somewhere. The air smelled of lemons and oranges. It reminded him of his grandmother’s garden when he was a child.

There was a large doorway set in a hillside, which James guessed led underground.

The city’s centerpiece was a massive building James could only imagine was a palace, connected to another building that looked like it had been stolen from Ancient Athens.

Then James saw a building he recognized, and his jaw dropped.

The Community Center, though much enlarged and now sporting an image of a spider on the exterior.

Which meant that either someone in the future stole my building, or—this is my city. It had to at least be built where the Fisher Kingdom currently existed.

James saw someone he recognized, then, stepping out of the Community Center.

It was Mina, dressed in a beautiful regal gown and holding a little girl’s hand. James didn’t recognize the little girl, but he saw a little of himself and his family’s traits in her.

So we have another kid in the future.

James began silently praying, without having a particular god in mind.

Don’t let this vision be about them…