Chapter 46.3: Requiem of The Crimson Glint

  “What do we have here?”

  Faust’s breath tickled Ace’s ear as he crooned next to it. A shiver ran down Ace’s spine, but fear quickly morphed into boiling rage. He snapped his head to face Faust and spat in his face.

  A resounding snap bounced off the walls as Faust struck the side of his cheek. Ace’s scream shattered the air. His eyes watered, stars dancing in his vision. “You’re lucky that someone wants you alive,” Faust snarled as he flicked the globule of saliva off his cheek. “And any idiot would know that they want you alive for this arm!”

  Faust hooked his fingers under the armour and tore it off. The plates buckled under his fingers as he crushed them in his fist. “Which would you prefer? The scalpel or my hand?” In one hand, Faust reshaped the scrap metal into a gleaming blade. In the other, his nails lengthened into black talons, violet veins pulsing beneath their surface. His amber eyes glowed with excitement as his gaze raked his arm.

  “F-Fuck you!”

  “I admire your bravado.” Faust curled his fingers.

  Metal shrieked overhead. Overhead lights swung down. Blinding light pierced into the back of Ace’s eyes like hot needles. He twisted his head, but the light was inescapable. Closing his eyes offered no respite as the glare seared through his eyelids.

  "My hand it is,” Faust muttered.

  Ace’s left arm bucked, flailing about with a mind of its own. Faust sucked on his teeth loudly. “How irritating,” he tutted.

  A cold, vice-like grip seized his wrist. Before Ace could struggle, his arm was slammed down onto a hard surface. The crack of bone against metal echoed through the room. The impact drove the breath out of his lungs.

  The restraints came next, cutting deep into his skin, almost certainly drawing blood. He let out a frightened moan as he felt pinpricks all over his body, unsure of whether it was merely goosebumps or Faust preparing to cut him open.

  A sharpened fingernail broke through skin. A scream tore through Ace’s throat, and his restraints snapped free. His arm swiped blindly. There was a loud ‘thwack’ as his hand met flesh. Something warm and wet spattered on Ace’s face. Blood?! He took a shuddering breath.

  The lights spun, and Ace cracked his eyes open. Dark spots floated lazily, but none were as dark as the fury on Faust’s face. Three deep gouges had opened up on his cheek.

  Ace glanced down. Pain lanced up to his shoulder as the thorns responded to the pressure, burrowing deeper into his own flesh before shooting outward again. A warbled croak escaped his lips.

  The operating theatre shook. The ceiling broke apart as iron rebars swooped down on Ace. He could only scream, hurling half-manifested Visions at Faust as the bars hauled him off the ground. With a loop of wire, Faust straightened the cursed arm, pinning it down.

  The rebars twisted around Ace’s ribs, wrapping him tighter and tighter. “A-Alive!” Ace gasped, grasping at anything to make Faust stop. “Y-You–”

  “I won’t go that far,” Faust snapped. “She wants you.” He squeezed Ace’s cheeks between two gnarly fingers. “You are one of us, and at the same time, you are not. How does it feel to possess an infinite source of strength?”

  Ace yelped as Faust twisted his head so that he met those amber eyes. “Your teacher is dead! So use it!” Faust hissed, spittle spraying. “Embrace it just like I did, and perhaps you can be one step closer to what I have become!”

  “And be fucking crazy?!” Ace choked out, hot tears brimming in his eyes. Images of Faust impaling Dante replayed in his mind. “Never! Over my d-dead body!”

  Dante would never want him to descend into darkness.

  “You resist.” Faust narrowed his eyes, but a grin slowly split his face into two. “Let’s see your true potential.”

  Air rushed out of Ace’s lungs as the rebars squeezed his chest hard. The metal snaked around his neck. Each desperate breath became shallower than the last. His vision tunnelled, the edges going fuzzy. Faust's face swam before him, lips moving, but Ace could not hear the words over the roaring in his ears.

  The spots in Ace’s vision multiplied, merged and became one.

  ***

  Faust plunged his fingers deep into Ace’s arm, casting the first of his stitches into the unknown.

  Whatever the boy had been hiding retreated. It scurried up the left side of his neck and darted away from the spreading stitches. Thin black veins shot up his left cheek and burrowed into his temple. The whites of his eyes turned a deep violet, stained by the guest within him. “There you are!” Faust cackled. “Hiding won’t save you!”

  Ace’s limp body shuddered to life. His mouth dropped open as he let out a guttural roar. “GIVE IT BACK! HE MADE A PROMISE! HE LET ME STAY!”

  Ace—or whoever was controlling him—yanked his arm out of Faust’s grip with finality. His hands slammed down on the rebars, fingers splaying across the twisted metal. Thorns hammered through the metal, punching holes with sharp metallic shrieks. The unmarked arm wrenched away the bars, one by one.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Whose voice are you using?” Faust stepped back. “Who are you hiding in there?!”

  Ace threw back his arms, thrusting his chest out. “SHUT UP! I STAY FOR MY SON! I ANSWER TO NO ONE!” The rebars exploded outward in a shower of twisted shrapnel. He landed on his feet, swaying but standing. His cursed arm was completely black now, thorns protruding at every angle, some as long as daggers.

  Faust inhaled sharply at the miracle standing before him. Gone were the stitches he had used as bait.

  What set Cursed Essence apart was its refusal to stir – even in the thinnest of atmospheres, untouched by the faintest breeze. Stagnation didn’t mean complete stillness; it was a resistance to motion, a deep-rooted inertia that gradually drained the life from all it clung to. The only force that could move it was a lingering Will: traces of emotion, intent, or memory. When enough fragments of such feeling came together, they formed a current. Slowly, it would begin to shift – heavy, deliberate, and unstoppable – crawling forward like quicksand, consuming all in its path. Even a practitioner would be consumed if he were not careful enough.

  So what is this, boy?! Faust marvelled at the anomaly presented to him on a platter. If you could see this now, Gretchen—

  Ace flopped onto the ground without warning. “S-Stop…” His voice was small, weak, pathetic. He began pushing himself up, fingers scrabbling against the linoleum. Colour returned all too quickly to his cheeks “Miho…-san…”

  The black veins were receding rapidly, retreating from Ace’s face like ink being sucked back into a pen. The thorns dissolved into a dark sludge that ran down his arm.

  A spark of joy coursed through Faust. His unbridled love for experimentation surged forth, and he decided that he must reconduct his experiment.

  Faust picked up Ace by the scruff of his neck once more. But this time, Ace hardly put up a fight. He could only smack his wrists feebly. Whoever this Miho bitch was, she had burnt through him too quickly.

  No worries, I’ll get to play with him with Gretchen’s help.

  With a sweep of his arm, Faust broke down the ceiling of the operating theatre. Debris rained down on them, but he hardly flinched. He had no use for the operating theatre anyway.

  Faust looked up—and paused.

  The sky was gone. In its place was an endless pitch-black void, fractured by crimson fissures that pulsed like exposed veins.

  ***

  Faust glanced down. Ace met his eyes, and he wanted to laugh. The confusion in Faust's eyes tickled him for some reason. Did Faust think that he was behind the bleeding sky they were witnessing?

  Just as a smirk started to dance on Ace’s lips, a shadow dropped from the skies.

  Faust saw it too. He lifted his blade.

  The shadow hit him like a freight train.

  Faust's ribs caved inward with a sound like snapping branches. His head whipped back, skull meeting concrete with a crack that made Ace's teeth hurt.

  Ace’s smirk died. D-Dante?! His jaw fell open, barely recognising the usually taciturn man who greeted him every day. He hardly felt the jackhammers pounding on his temples as he took in the sight of his teacher, who was crouched over Faust.

  Dante's eyes had gone completely white, lips peeled back to expose teeth like a rabid dog's. On display were the brittle fangs of a rabid mongrel, ready to snap someone’s neck in an instant. Dark aura coiled around his frame. His Regalia burned red around his finger, electricity crackling across his skin. Fissure-like marks crawled from his fingertips up to his cheekbones, glowing iridescent crimson from within.

  Ace’s gaze snapped to the gaping wounds on Dante’s torso and neck. His blood turned to ice.

  They had been sealed by darkness.

  “Another one! Another cursed one!” Faust, pinned under Dante, shrieked in a shredded and desperate voice as he clawed at Dante's arms. “What has your God done?!”

  Dante's fist disappeared into his mouth. The crunch of teeth shattering. The wet pop as the fist punched through soft palette, through brain matter, through the back of Faust's skull like it was cardboard. Faust’s eyeballs popped out and flew across the room like squash balls. One of them plopped into Ace’s lap. Any light—or darkness—behind Faust’s eyes was gone.

  Ace witnessed it all.

  No pitiful gurgles or whimpers. Just silence.

  Dante pulled his arm out slowly. In his fist was Faust’s Cursed Core.

  “D-D-Dan…” Ace warbled as he scooted back, pressing his back against a wall he found. He covered his mouth with trembling hands, suddenly afraid that if he made a peep of noise, he would be next.

  But Dante was far from done.

  From Dante’s hand rose twisting vines that snapped around Faust’s core. They drank. Black lines surged beneath his skin, racing toward his chest and neck. His back arched, and he threw his head back. Stitches crimped the wounds shut. The fissure marks on his face deepened, glowing hotter.

  The vines squeezed tighter, draining every drop until nothing remained of the core. But Dante did not stop.

  His fists slammed into the corpse beneath him. Once. Twice. Again. Ribs snapped like kindling. The chest cavity collapsed inward. Organs burst, Cursed Essence spraying across the floor and into Ace’s agape mouth. He punched through the chest cavity with his bare hands, pulling out handfuls of viscera. Intestines unspooled around him in wet coils as he dug it out with the frenzy of a madman.

  With each impact, the floor cracked and shook. With each breath, the fissure marks crawled higher up Dante’s face, disappearing into his hair. His Regalia pulsed, gorging itself. Faust’s body—sans his eyeballs—was disappearing. Broken down and assimilated into Dante like water into sand.

  Dante's eyes flickered. White faded back to normal for just a moment.

  Ace thought Dante would turn to him and ask him if he was alright. Instead, Dante’s eyes snapped to the heavens, a tide of white swallowing his irises once again. Ace followed his gaze and saw Jude peeking into the room. Her left eye was clamped shut, but the right had bright yellow Essence framing it. Her hand was pressed against her mouth like she was trying not to scream

  The air went dead.

  Jude had seen everything.

  Ace looked back at Dante. The fissures on Dante’s face showed no signs of fading.

  They were burning brighter than ever.

  Dante's fingers twitched. Flexed. Those blackened claws still dripping with what used to be Faust.

  “JUDE–” The scream tore out of Ace's throat. “RUN!”