Chapter Twenty-Three: The Quarantine Zone

There was once a war, an alliance forged between a sage and a band of fools. The sage could only impart wisdom to the fools through lies, for only deception allowed his wisdom to be accepted. My ancestors were forced to such measures, for wisdom and courage coursed through our bloodline, manifesting time and again in moments of crisis.

Though I am still uncertain whether Professor Longinus is truly my forebear.

A sudden noise; from the direction we had come, all the lights went out. What was once brilliant became shadowed. Lamia cried, “Vaga! What’s happening?”

Vaga replied, “I can no longer control the main system, the connection is breaking.” Her voice crackled and then was cut off.

The shadow drew nearer. My heart froze over like a glacier; it was the fish, that demon. It was descending.

Another clang—the lights in this room dimmed by half, darkness now only a breath away. I heard myself scream, felt my feet racing forward, dashing through the control room and running onward.

Lamia chased after me, grasping my hand. “Calm down! Why are you running?”

Danger lurked behind us—could she not see it? I wrenched free and bolted blindly. Lamia called, “Ahead is the Second Contact Zone! You’ll run into Vasilisa!”

She was mistaken; compared to Vasilisa, the fish was far more terrifying, far more dreadful to me.

I ignored her, stumbling through the darkness. Lamia caught me around the waist, bringing us both crashing to the ground. I regained a shred of composure, realizing I was lying atop her, our faces inches apart.

Lamia lifted her head, her lips brushing mine.

I thought, if I didn’t seize the moment, I might offend my superior—and if she were displeased, I’d suffer for it. My lips stayed pressed to hers, my hands beginning to explore her body. Lamia gently pushed me aside, saying, “Are you sane now?”

“No, not quite, Commander. I still need your cure.”

“Maybe later,” Lamia replied.

What did she mean? Refusal, or not? I felt like Schrödinger’s cat, life and death balanced on a knife’s edge.

Though I was a master of intrigue, my commander was even craftier; with a single sentence, she turned me inside out.

Careful now, Commander, careful—you’re playing with my heart, toying with fire.

Yet, after that kiss, the fish seemed to abandon its pursuit.

Lamia said, “Where are we…”

My mind brimmed with thoughts of her kiss. Because of her promise—“later”—I became exceedingly attentive. With my limited night vision, I quickly found the switch and flicked on the lights. Lamia let out a soft gasp; we were in the armory, rows upon rows of rifles and pistols embedded in the wall racks, all gleaming as if freshly manufactured.

Lamia pulled a box of bullets from a niche, opened it, and said, “Holy Sword rounds—exactly twenty-four, enough for the four of us for one round.”

Salvador and Betty rushed in. With their arrival, the lights grew blindingly bright—those two meddlesome bulbs, interrupting my time alone with the commander.

Lamia asked, “Fishbone, can you still contact Vaga?”

I could no longer hear Vaga’s voice; her so-called telepathy seemed severed.

Without Vaga’s assistance, we could not retrace our steps.

Lamia distributed weapons and ammunition. “Forward—there’s no turning back.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “Fishbone, what’s that in your hand?”

I didn’t realize when a rod appeared in my grip—a white shaft, about half a meter long, forked at one end and sharpened at the other. It looked… like a polished fish spine.

What was this? I had no memory of picking it up, but it seemed familiar. I tried to toss it away, but found a barb embedded in my palm at the point of contact. The entire surface of the spine was smooth, save for the single barb at my hand.

It was light, and my wound didn’t hurt at all.

“Strange,” I said, “I was just fine when I kissed the commander.”

Salvador and Betty shouted in unison, “You… did what?”

Lamia’s face was pale, so her blush was clearly visible, though it faded quickly. She said, “Can you remove that… fish spine?”

I carefully tried to pull it out, to no avail. I increased my effort, still nothing. Even as I tugged, there was no pain. Lamia tried to help, but failed. “It’s as if the fish spine grew out of your body.”

Salvador asked, “Mutation?”

“Mutating that fast? Don’t scare me,” I replied.

I tried to ignore the fish spine and found it didn’t hinder my shooting at all. It seemed almost sentient—when I needed to grab something, it moved aside, even defying gravity. It truly was a part of me, subject to a degree of my control.

“Let it be,” I said.

“Don’t let it interfere with your shots—don’t waste Holy Sword rounds,” Lamia said.

“That’s not certain,” I replied.

“Forget it—your marksmanship is terrible anyway,” Lamia retorted.

“But my arrow of love has struck someone’s heart,” I said.

Lamia slapped me lightly, “Greasy.”

Her touch was gentle, her voice soft; my face tingled, my heart sweetened. I had long resolved to survive to reach the skyscraper, to ascend to the pinnacle of power. Yet in that instant, I thought if my death could buy Lamia’s life, I would accept it gladly.

I was supposed to use her—why did I now feel used myself? But… this was only a tactical maneuver, yes, just so; if love bloomed between us, she’d obey me in all things, forming the most reliable alliance.

The corridor ahead curved, a sealed door blocking our way. With Vaga gone, I fretted about how to open it, when a beam of light scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my pupils for several seconds. A female voice announced, “Professor Longinus, ahead lies the First Contact Zone. Please proceed with caution.”

Betty exclaimed, “Professor Longinus? It recognizes you as that Longinus from the Sword and Shield Society?”

I laughed, “See, the machine’s accuracy is abysmal. I told you he was my ancestor, but none of you believed me.”

None understood the principles of iris recognition, nor did I. Such knowledge was as alien to us as fairy tales. Perhaps ancestors and descendants share significant similarities in their irises.

Soon the door vanished, and we entered what felt like the depths of hell.

The room was vast—seemingly larger than the entire prison complex. The overlapping of extradimensional space had multiplied its area.

Spiderwebs coated the floor, shrouded the ceiling, and covered the walls. Revolting brown spheres, like insect eggs, littered the space.

Sticky liquid pooled here and there, forming tiny ponds. Bubbles rose and burst with a plop; then, as if small insects emerged from them, they began to crawl.

The insect legs skittered across the slime, making shrill noises. The air was thick with an odd fragrance.

A true “wormhole,” in every sense.

Betty grew faint, saying, “I feel unwell.” Salvador steadied his fiancée, “I’m dizzy too.”

“Retreat—this aroma is poisonous. Commander, you as well,” I said.

“What about you?” Lamia asked.

“I’ll scout ahead. I seem able to resist the toxin.”

Lamia shook her head, “I’m somewhat immune to toxins too. We’ll act together.”

I made a negative gesture, swallowed the water of Ammon, and faded from view. Lamia said, “Don’t be reckless. Some demons might see through you. You take the lead, I’ll follow.”

Betty whispered, “Mr. Longinus, the door… it’s closed. We can’t go back!”

So it was; I couldn’t reopen it, either. Seemed to be malfunctioning.

Lamia said, “Betty, Sami, cover your nose and mouth with wet wipes, don’t breathe deeply. Let’s hope the gas only induces sleep.”

I moved ahead, spotting shifting, lurking, and web-weaving figures.

They were hybrids of spider and human—the upper halves human, with hands and faces, antennae atop their heads; the lower halves spider, eight jointed limbs protruding from their sides. I decided to call them Spider Demons.

There were too many to count, and even more hidden. The webs served as wallpaper, curtain, and drape—a marker of their territory and dwellings. They had built a village here.

One Spider Demon turned its face toward me, antennae trembling—it had spotted me. Its mouth opened, about to cry out. I flung a dagger, piercing its skull.

My invisibility couldn’t mask my scent; too close, and they would detect me.

I began to suspect my ancestor was not as wise and heroic as I’d imagined.

A crackling sound as I stepped on a sphere; my hair stood on end. Holding my breath, I aimed my gun at the ball, only to find no Spider Demon inside, but instead, some unopened items. Wiping away the grime, I recognized the label—it was a gas mask.

Providence smiled upon me. I rushed back to Lamia, showing them my discovery. Relief was evident in their faces as they quickly donned the masks. Salvador took a deep breath, “Much better, thank you.”

I advanced once more, when suddenly, to my right, I heard voices: “Prepare for battle!” “All units, engage!”

Spider Demons surged forward, clashing with the Sword and Shield Society. Their armor shone with light; the Spider Demons thrust blade-like limbs, but could not pierce the armor. The Society’s swords easily slashed open the Spider Demons. These creatures were more agile than typical demons, but weak in combat, lacking strength. Against the Society’s sturdy armor, they posed less threat than the White Demons.

The Spider Demons shrieked, their limbs scraping together in a dense, chilling cacophony, swarming forth en masse. The Sword and Shield Society stood firm, each guarding a direction, ensuring no more than three enemies faced each warrior. The Spider Demons were helpless, while every sword strike dealt a grievous blow.

Seeing the battle unfold smoothly, my emotions were conflicted. I didn’t wish the Society to be slaughtered, yet if they exterminated the Spider Demons, they would advance unhindered, opening the cell that held “Codename: Cain.”

I searched for Vasilisa; she was surrounded by people, watching the proceedings as if at a theater.