chapter 67-False man

I watched in utter shock as the huntsman stumbled on the ground. What appeared before me was a silhouette of purple mist emitted from its figure. If not for me knowing who this person was, then I would have guessed it was another beast.

Purple symbols, plated on his body, forming what seems like a formation of tattoos from his eyes around the rest of his body. It was shocking, it was James, his back facing me.

He was alive, but I sensed his breathing was not the same. Was he tired, exhausted? If he had to break out of the dream spell without the same abilities as me, then it would have taken a heavy toll on his mental state right now.

The best thing for us is to retreat and get back our energy.

I saw the huntsman stand back up, staggering at the same time. It may have been injured, but I could sense the thousands of invisible threads around its body within a twenty-foot radius.

I noticed while struggling to fight against it, that the webs' source wasn't from its body but like the world itself was producing the threads, so that meant it almost had an endless supply.

"James, we need to take Max and get out of here. It's not a tactical move if we try to fight this thing to the death, the risk is too high!" I shouted towards him.

He didn't answer. Crap, was he ignoring me? We didn't have time for these games, now isn't appropriate.

I sprinted towards him, ready to escape. As I reached out, I felt something disappear from my body. I paused in place, shocked. What was this?

My body was functioning at the same level, but something was gone. I looked down at my chest, no holes or cuts, yet even still, it felt empty, devoid.

I turned my head up, only to come face to face with James, his purple glowing tattoos as well as his eyes. Was this even James. His stare shook my core, my heart, no wait. That! This, it can't be. I looked at his hands which grasped something, a beating heart, no blood, just a red crimson heart that slightly glowed orange and yellow as the steam of heat was produced by it. It was my heart.

I wanted to puke, to vomit, but I doubt I had the energy.

A dagger was etched in his hand. With speed only second to the huntsman's, he stabbed my hand which was reaching out towards him and stabbed my hand to the ground, implanting the dagger as well.

I tried to breathe, but the task was too much for me. My body tried to grow another heart, but my mystic units were low.

My soul was shattering at my friend's action. No, it can't be. This isn't James. His glowing eyes looked down upon me, no pity, no remorse, but more of an inquisitive and curious look, like a newborn child tilting its head, more like a psychotic child.

Tears streamed down my face as I tried to clench my hands, but my veins were pierced.

"Who the fuck are you? What have you done to him?" I demanded, expecting no reply.

Yet, I did get a reply, though not the one I expected or was looking for. He placed his hand on my right cheek. Then he stood up, reaching his hand in a different direction, and the katana that the huntsman held appeared in his grip. Using his steall ability, he grasped it and turned toward the huntsman as his second prey.

The huntsman did not shy away from the gaze. Like any creature threatened, it showed what seemed to be anger. Another beast had invaded its home and was challenging its authority. Such an action could not go unchallenged. Provoked, it sent strings of threads dancing around the room, slicing through any rock and boulder in their path.

James walked slowly, breathing that purple mist in and out. Words appeared before me:

[True source has been located, all mystic energy within the acquired location will be amplified to maximum output.]

I was shocked. Having already lost mystic units, I now felt refreshed and replenished. I felt like a new man, yet I also felt like a part of me had been stolen. Was it my trust, my bond with James?

No, I can't think that. This isn't him. I know one thing: whatever actions James takes are not his own.

I watched as James dropped my heart to the ground and took a stance resembling a ronin drawing their blade before a battle. Yet James had no sheath, only a blade in one hand and barehanded with the other. Still, he used his fingers to replicate the style of a sheath.

The huntsman, on the other hand, had eight legs appear on its back, while it used its ten fingers to spread threads, creating a domain of threads. The huntsman seemed to have the upper hand and made the first move, as thousands of threads collided together, trying to wrap James in a trap and dice him, as it had done to me earlier.

Yet James danced within, dodging and predicting each attack. No matter how many strands or threads were thrown at him, James simply dodged. Then, like a curtain, the threads latched onto the roof and the ground, surrounding James. He had no escape, nowhere to go.

The curtains closed in. I couldn't sense where James was as the view was blocked.

I wanted to help. At the end of the day, James was still within that mind somewhere. I didn't know how it turned out like this, but there must be a way to stop all of this, to fix it.

I pulled the daggers out of my hands. Before I could take my first steps, I looked down to notice the wound on my hands wasn't healing, and my heart still felt like it was in a half healing process and fixated in that same process.

I looked forward at the curtain of strings shredding James in the center, as blood and flesh were being dismantled. I saw a fiery glow in that center, as the threads stopped their work.

As it could no longer proceed forward, a burst of energy pushed the strings away, only to see a half-clothed James, who only had trousers for pants while his body had thousands of cuts and slashes but were healing at a rapidly fast pace.

I flinched back. If James survived and went after him, then he would be impossible to survive as he would be a perfect counter to any immortal-like being such as myself.

James, after healing, darted dancing through the strings once more, either jumping or sliding, he was untouchable in this moment.

I knew he knew, and the huntsman knew it too - a trick like that won't work a second time, so the huntsman had to do something different and fast. Then it created a fence of threads and shot it towards James.

James stabbed the blade into the ground and used his pointer finger to balance on the handle. Then he bent his arm, trying to gain momentum to jump and avoid the attack. He leaped; while still grabbing the blade's handle at the last second, he jumped over the gate of webs.

Thirty-three feet in the air, he landed, but before he could do so, he stabbed the sword into the ground and landed on the handle with his two feet overlapping each other, hands behind his back. He threw two daggers at the huntsman's hands, successfully landing the two projectiles. He dashed forward, going back into the drawing his blade motion.

The blade still imaginary in a sheath, James got close. The huntsman decided to face the attack head-on, even with its injuries. James let his fingers loose, grazing his finger at the side of the blade while drawing it, and the huntsman's eight legs shined with a green toxic glow attacking each other at the same time.