Chapter 42: Soul dissonance
Kurt’s POV:
’This is bad.’ He thought solemnly.
Watching the usually cheerful and smiley young man suddenly turn into a battle-hungry and bloodthirsty being, Kurt didn’t know how to feel.
"Kid, stop! You’re going to regret this!" Kurt warned as he watched Clark continuously pound Matthew’s face with a crazed smile on his.
"It’s no use." A spectating mage spoke as he clenched his staff tightly.
"He’s fallen into a soul dissonance." He added.
Kurt’s face changed to that of dread, and he asked with hidden panic, "Isn’t there a way to stop it without..."
The mage stared at Kurt with an expression that read, ’We both know it isn’t possible.’
Kurt seemed to have understood the expression on his face, but that didn’t mean he wanted to accept it.
With dim eyes he spoke, "He has to die, doesn’t he?"
The mage nodded slowly with an apologetic look as he explained, "We could wait for him to get back to his senses, but the state he is in now...I doubt any recorded cases of soul dissonance were this severe."
Watching blankly as the trio Clark battled against slowly inched towards him with utmost vigilance, Kurt had mixed feelings.
On one hand, he was someone the kid called Uncle, and he relied on him to some extent. On the other hand, the person he was pummeling on the ground was an A-ranked noble and one of the most powerful and influential nobles in the financial field.
"His emotions are in complete disarray, and he doesn’t look like someone that could reel himself back in. Kurt, you have to make a decision. The kid or your family..."
The mage spoke as he teleported out of the stadium.
Casting a shield to separate Clark from Matthew, who had a disfigured and bloodied face, Rimezda announced with extreme anger.
"This person has dared to lay a finger on not only one but four nobles without regard for his life; now that he has let his emotions get the best of him and fallen into soul dissonance, the Virsch family would like to ask the assistance of all the knights and mages present here to dispose of this nobody."
Rimezda’s announcement echoed through the stadium, but instead of the cheers you’d expect for such an easy victory, hesitation and unease marked the faces of most of the warriors.
Rimezda seemed to have expected this, as she sighed and spoke a little hurriedly as she watched the increased intensity at which the encaged person struggled to break free.
"The Virsch family shall reward anybody—be it a group or an individual—who manages to finish him off."
A glimmer of interest flashed through the faces of the warriors as they slowly inched forward to the horror of Kurt.
’He might be strong enough to put up a fight against all these A ranks in his current state, but it’s only a matter of time before he burns out.’
His mind raced as a few more knights and mages slowly inched towards Rimezda with expectant faces.
"Wait!" He blurted.
All eyes turned to him. Some were confused, some understanding, while the rest—including the trio and Matthew—carried gazes of expectancy.
"I want to be the one to handle him. Alone." He continued.
Slowly walking through the path that was unconsciously created for him, he stood in front of Matthew, whose face had healed like it was never bruised in the first place.
"Are you sure?" Matthew asked as he supplemented mana to the cage that was showing signs of wear.
"He managed to beat me while still only an F-rank," Matthew admitted with clenched teeth. "I underestimated him... yet I was driven into the ground again and again. That isn’t something a mere F-rank—even if he’s suffering from soul dissonance—should be capable of." His expression darkened, anger simmering beneath the embarrassment of today’s humiliation—or perhaps something deeper.
Kurt remained silent, but his eyes carried unwavering determination.
Knowing his response, Matthew spoke, "Master Kurt, I’m only telling you this because of the respect I have for you, but if you will not heed my warning, then I’ll leave it to you."
Kurt merely harrumphed and stared at the constantly rampaging man with blood-red eyes with an unreadable expression.
Matthew sighed and gestured for Rimezda to release the water cage.
"Are you sure?" Rimezda asked with uncertainty.
"I’m not some weakling, you little brat!" Kurt interrupted with an irritated expression, "This wouldn’t have happened if you arrogant kids kept to yourselves." He added as anger clouded his expression.
Rimezda—probably not wanting to get beaten up again—gestured to the twins and slowly released the water cage.
"Good luck, Master Kurt," Matthew said quietly as the earth shuddered. Jagged slabs of stone rose and knit together, sealing off Clark and Kurt behind a towering wall of rock.
"K...u...r...t..." Clark pronounced, his shoulders crouched with his bloodied eyes constantly watching him.
Kurt smiled sadly and slowly brought out a large war hammer from his storage ring.
"I always have the worst luck with kids." He spoke as the hammer landed on the ground with a thud.
"You know your aunty told me we looked just like father and son when we had our little meat squabble." He continued.
Slowly walking towards the vigilant Clark—who had a very unorthodox battle stance, with his left arm outstretched—Kurt continued as tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, "I don’t want to do this, kid! So snap out of it already!"
Clark responded with a low growl as his smile turned twisted, "K...u...r...t."
"Yeah?!" Kurt responded with hidden excitement as he closed the distance.
"Why...?"
"Why what?" He asked
"Won’t... she..." The words seeped out, barely a whisper, yet they rang clearly in Kurt’s ears.
His ocean-blue eyes dulled, then bled into a deep, steady crimson, veins of red blooming outward from the pupils until all color was swallowed.
It wasn’t the soft, magnetic glow Laura bore; this was a sterile, predatory, unnatural light that made the air prickle.
He stood perfectly still, shoulders low, head slightly bowed, the faint rise and fall of his breath the only sign of life. The stillness of the air only served to make the situation all the more eerie.
Yet despite how unnerving the situation was, not once was there a shred of hesitance or regret in the face of Kurt as he eventually closed the distance completely and attempted to place his hands on his shoulder.
"Won’t she what?" He asked as a glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes.
"... Won’t...YOU DIE?!"
Clark’s scythe made a large horizontal arc towards the arm that was placed on his shoulder with a loud cackle.
Kurt’s expression changed, and he quickly jumped backwards in an attempt to evade the decapitating attack.
"KWAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Clark’s relentless cackle echoed through the cage-like chamber as his scythe slashed again and again, each swing meant to carve Kurt’s life away while Kurt twisted and slipped just ahead of the blade.
"Come on, Kid! Please! Don’t make me do this!!" Kurt begged frantically as he dodged the attacks and parried with his hammer.
Not paying any heed to his pleas, Clark swung directly at Kurt’s side.
"Argh!"
Kurt screamed in pain as he held the side of his stomach that was constantly gushing blood.
"YES! YES...MORE BLOOD!!"
Clark’s laughter cracked the silence, sharp and uneven, bouncing off the stone like broken glass. Each breath fed the next burst until it frayed into something almost gleeful.
His movements blurred; one blink and the space between him and Kurt was gone. He was simply there, at Kurt’s back, fingers settling against the man’s skull with a stillness far colder than the laughter had been.
"Masseuseeeeee...!" Clark’s shriek cracked into a jagged laugh that ricocheted off the stone, each echo sharper than the last.
Kurt’s jaw slackened, a strangely serene smile softening his features as if some invisible weight had slid from his shoulders.
"Hi-Hi-Hi...HAHAHAHA..." The cackle rolled on, hollow and drawn out, filling every corner of the space.
Clark’s steps turned into a manic rhythm, spinning, pivoting—circling Kurt in uneven arcs, his grin stretched too wide, eyes glittering with something far past joy.
"What do you say, Kurt? ...Hmmmm? I’m a very gooooooooooood masseuse, y’know, but I never had the chance to get to use it!!"
The maniacal laughter continued as tears rolled out of his eyes due to the intensity.
Picking up his scythe, he continued,
"It’s always one thing or the other....Hehehehe...either I’m getting beat up or I’m losing someone... Hihihihihi...but now...now...IT’S MY TURN!!"
Clark’s wild laughter cut through the air as he drove the scythe in a ruthless sweep toward Kurt’s throat. At the final instant Kurt lurched aside, the blade kissing his skin and leaving a thin, stinging line of blood as proof of how narrowly he’d escaped.
’This man is dangerous.’ He reflected solemnly as he stared at the maniacal Clark.
’This is something far more sinister than soul dissonance, something...archaic.’
Keeping the new thoughts at the back of his head, Kurt held his hammer tightly and dashed towards Clark, who was holding his scythe to his chest with an unnaturally wide grin.
"I’m sorry, kid."
The mana in the air crackled as Kurt’s hammer glowed a reddish hue and swung in an unpredictable arc towards Clark.
Failing to dodge the attack, Clark’s body flew in a parabolic arc and collided with the rocks of the wall with a large thud accompanied by the cracking of bones.
The rubble from the collision steadily mounted on him, and the whole place went silent.
For a moment...
"aaaaAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!".
An increasingly loud shriek of pain emanated from the pile of rocks before Kurt could heave a sigh of relief.
"THAT HURT, UNCLE KURT!!!"
Clark exclaimed with a smile that displayed his broken teeth and bloodied gums as he charged directly at him without a care for his life.
Kurt’s expression hardened into a snarl as he whipped the hammer in a brutal diagonal swing, driving it into Clark’s skull and forcing him down against the floor.
The sound of bones shattering could be heard from a mile away, and the muffled whimperings that came alongside it caused even more discomfort.
"Stay down, ki—, Clark..."
The muffled whimperings intensified and reduced periodically as the lower part of his body continually shook.
Placing his hands at either side, Clark lifted up his horrifyingly mutilated face and stared at Kurt with tears pooling in his eyes.
"Kill...me?" He asked.
"DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK THAT YOU COULD KILL ME?!" He screamed frantically.
Clenching his teeth, Kurt raised his hammer high, mana crackling along the head; it swung down in a savage diagonal arc, every ounce of his strength and fury behind the swing.
The broad head of the hammer met the already unrecognizable body of the man who used to be called Clark and pummeled it continually.
"JUST DIE!"
The pain of continually bashing a boy who was placing bets and talking with him a minute ago was too much for Kurt to bear as he kneeled on the constantly twitching blood and flesh mush with tears flowing freely from his eyes.
"What...do...you want?" He asked in a hoarse voice.
The reconnection and realignment of bones and flesh rang eerily throughout the space, and the constant cackle made its way through the mangled vocal cords of the boy.
Staring at Clark, who has seemingly revived after being pummeled, with a characteristic maniacal smile on his face, Kurt couldn’t help but ask as he remained in a kneeling position.
"What are you?"
"KIKIKI...KIAHAHAHAHA!!!"
The laughter rang continually as Clark’s body bent backwards in an unnatural arc.
"I’M CLARK THOMPSON!" He replied hysterically.
Kurt’s face turned solemn as he slowly stood up and watched the wide-eyed man with an unreadable expression.
"I’ll ask again. What do you want?"
"A mere human dares to question my role in the descent?. Kekekeke. Very bold."
Confusion registered across the face of Kurt as the low laughter continually rang in his ears.
"Kikikiki, I’ve had my fun, so I’ll take my leave. After all, I have many things to report to my master."
The rocks slowly began to fall apart due to the continuous absorption of mana from the entity.
"Wait!" Kurt called out anxiously.
The being turned its head with irritation written all over it and growled, "What is it?"
"Will...he be okay?" He asked.
"His body will be fine." It answered immediately.
"...And what about his mind?" Kurt asked dreadfully.
"Kekekeke... Guess you’ll have to find out."
The laughter dwindled to a hollow rasp as a faint, crimson wisp tore free from Clark’s chest and unraveled into the air like smoke.
His body went limp, sagging forward until Kurt caught him under the arms, lowering him gently as the cage of stone shuddered and crumbled away.
Kurt cradled the slack, pale face. "What secrets are you hiding, kid?" he muttered as the last traces of mana faded into the air.