Storm Wolf: Tranquil waters - 30. Chapter 7 - Resonance 7.2

For a moment, I didn't realize what I had done.

It's not that I was unaware of the consequences--I knew exactly what would happen. I chose their deaths to prevent Piqsirpoq from meeting a similar fate. But... what I hadn't anticipated was the surge of emotions.

Qana never mentioned it, but I should have guessed. It was something like a death tremor or a dying scream, resonating clearly through the conscious domain.

All the waves were too weak to cause any effect in the physical space, but that... that scream, like a powerful gust of wind, pinned me to the spot, unable to move.

It was shock, regret, confusion, helplessness. And... the calm acceptance of reality. A calmness like... the surface of tranquil waters.

I could feel myself completely relaxed, floating in an almost stagnant state, gently rising and falling in rhythm with my inner waves. Drifting aimlessly, carried by the current.

A roar snapped me back to reality-- Piqsirpoq was struggling to push the corpse fragments off of him. I quickly confirmed that three others had survived.

This isn’t over yet.

I cleared all the snow and rubble ahead, creating a straight, flat path and continued running toward them.

Piqsirpoq was grappling with a canine creature, his opponent gripping something sharp and trying to drive it into him. Piqsirpoq held onto the attacker’s arm with all his strength, desperately trying to stop him.

I extended my consciousness but couldn't penetrate some kind of barrier... It was blood, along with the scattered organs and limbs. The lingering consciousness on them had formed a sort of unyielding existence circle.

A massive amount of blood had already flowed from inside the vehicle, seeping into the snow. I couldn't clear it away. So, I gripped the handle of the Kilij and hurled it. Guiding its trajectory, I ensured the weapon would continue its path by inertia even after leaving my conscious circle.

The blade plunged into the canine’s right scapula, drawing a piercing scream as it and Piqsirpoq, still locked in combat, tumbled off the edge of the wreckage.

I was nearly at the vehicle when a dog, previously concealed behind cover, emerged and fired some kind of weapon at me. A barrage of bullets flattened against my defensive circle.

I had no time to deal with it. After landing inside the vehicle, I casually shoved the dog aside, sending it stumbling before it dropped heavily onto its haunches. It resembled a bloodhound—its fur and features were unmistakable.

I needed to check on Piqsirpoq; everything else could wait.

The blood beneath my feet made me slip, nearly tripping over the severed limbs and organs scattered around. I should've been more careful, but I hadn't expected that the existence circle would still be active even after its hosts had died, let alone that they would merge with each other.

Death treats everyone equally, right?

The bloodhound struggled to get up as I regained my balance, firing another shot at me. I didn't want to waste energy on it, not until I noticed several fragments had pierced through my defensive circle, causing a sharp headache that made me momentarily lose focus.

What the...!

Even if my consciousness domain was suppressed by all this messy blood and viscera, my passive defense shouldn't have collapsed from such an attack. But when the fragments lodged into my body, I understood--they were adamantine. They had made bullets out of adamantine and loaded them into their ammunition.

The powerful impact knocked me to the ground, rolling several times before I fell off the vehicle and into a snowbank.

I let out a small groan, uncertain if something had broken or if any organs were damaged. Through the searing pain, I tried to stand, but I could barely manage to roll over.

I should've expected this. If they were targeting Psychics, they'd naturally have prepared more than just methods to avoid or disrupt our detection. I let my guard down, distracted by worry for Piqsirpoq. Qana is going to be furious.

This feels different from being cut by a sword.

I tried to channel my consciousness but found it failing. My body... no, the adamantine in my bloodstream was interfering with the formation of my conscious circle--I couldn't even erect a defensive circle.

I lay there, struggling, as the bloodhound's upper body emerged, his black metal barrel aimed at me.

Damn it. My dull and uneventful life had finally started to get interesting... and now it's about to end?

Somehow, this feeling was familiar.

The damp, cold sensation on my skin made me certain that I had lost enough blood to soak almost all of my fur. Bit by bit, it continued to flow slowly but steadily.

I tried to move or speak, but quickly realized I was too weak to accomplish either.

Is this what the end looks like?

No, absolutely not!

Watching the bloodhound's finger tighten on the trigger, I mustered all my strength, trying to summon my consciousness. But I failed again.

Alright, maybe this really is the end. My unremarkable life, destined to end like this—alone, on the cold, unforgiving ground, unnoticed by anyone but myself.

In the end, I was still alone.

I was like a leaf drifting on the surface of tranquil waters, quietly waiting to sink into the eternal, endless abyss.

I kept waiting, but the gun didn't fire.

A blade pierced through the bloodhound's left chest, its tip gleaming as it emerged. Blood gushed from his half-open mouth, and after a violent spasm, his body went limp—his expression frozen in his final moment.

Piqsirpoq discarded the Kilij casually and jumped to my side, crouching down. His fur was matted in clumps, mixed with half-dried blood, making him look utterly disheveled. And his right hand was bent at an unnatural angle.

Even so, seeing him alive filled me with an overwhelming sense of relief, a lump forming in my throat.

"Can you stand?" he asked urgently. I could only shake my head weakly in response. "Alright, let's give it a try, okay?" he encouraged, nudging my face with his snout. "We need to get out of this hellhole quickly. One of them escaped; we don't know where he is, and he might bring reinforcements."

I managed a faint nod, and Piqsirpoq used his uninjured shoulder to support me. I don't know where I found the strength, but with his help, I managed to stand.

I felt incredibly weak--strangely so. It wasn't because of my injuries; I had checked earlier. Although I had a few more holes and lost a lot of blood, my major organs were intact, and my limbs were fine.

It was the adamantine.

Somehow, it was harming me. Damn, this stuff is too complicated.

I focused inward and located some fragments, attempting to expel them, but the searing pain was like my organs being violently twisted. I nearly vomited.

In the name of Rationalism!

"Are you alright?" Piqsirpoq noticed me staggering, his voice filled with concern.

I gave him a smile, not wanting him to worry too much. But I feared that speaking would only cause me to cough up more blood and alarm him further.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something--a gray dog, his body covered in dried blood, giving it the appearance of having reddish-brown spots. But more importantly, the gray dog was holding the bloodhound's weapon, pointing it at us.

Damn it, that Psychic! He shielded himself, and I didn't notice!

Piqsirpoq must have sensed my body tense. He looked up, glancing in the gray dog's direction.

In an instant, I was released. At the same time, I saw the gray dog's finger pull the trigger and Piqsirpoq's back--he had shielded me with his body.

The thunderous roar echoed as Piqsirpoq slammed into me, and we were both sent flying a short distance, landing in a snowdrift.

I gasped for breath, trying to replace the air I'd just coughed up. Piqsirpoq lay on top of me, motionless--completely still.

No!

"This is one shitty job!" the gray dog shouted as he approached us. "At least now there's less competition for the prize--maybe it'll even pay off better this way." He laughed maniacally, tossing the weapon aside and pulling out a few devices from his pocket that I couldn't identify. "And with two Psychics, looks like I can retire early!"

I didn't know what those devices were, but the cold, sharp aura they exuded hinted at some kind of cutting function.

"This might hurt a lot!" He flashed me with a twisted smile, seeming genuinely delighted. "I wouldn't know, though." The gray dog tilted his head and shrugged. "But they do tend to scream pretty loudly."

I tried to struggle but couldn't move. My hands fumbled over the ground, finding nothing but the frozen earth--no rocks, nothing I could grasp.

"Don't rush me; I need to deal with this one first." He fiddled with his tools; I couldn't tell what he was doing. "They say you've only got a few hours of activity after death."

I bared my teeth at him, growling a warning, but it only made his smile more twisted.

At that moment, a flash of light streaked across the gray sky, catching my attention. It wasn't very noticeable amid the falling snowflakes.

I didn't pay attention to what the gray dog was doing anymore; I only squinted my eyes, focusing on the tiny dot plummeting rapidly from the sky.

It wasn't until the moment when the burly sword master landed on the ground and cleaved the gray dog in half from head to crotch that I realized it wasn't a hallucination.

Qana restrained the shockwave with a containment circle, so I didn't even hear a sound.

My vision instantly blurred, and a hot, wet sensation trailed down my cheeks, showing no sign of stopping.

"Piqsirpoq..." I heard my own choked voice, so heavy with nasality that I barely recognized it.

Qana's expression was grim as he carefully picked up my brother, setting him aside and tracing his fingers across Piqsirpoq's chest.

I choked several times, trying to catch my breath, and an uncontrollable fit of coughing followed, causing me to spray blood onto myself.

Qana tilted his head at me, looking even more concerned. But I shook my head lightly, signaling that it wasn't as bad as it looked. With a glance, I urged him to focus on Piqsirpoq.

"He still has a pulse, but these adamantine fragments... can't be handled by nanodrones," Qana said, hoisting my brother onto his shoulder, then looking into the distance with a scowl. He growled low, "One of them escaped. He used some method to disrupt my domain; I can't touch or sense him." The sword master clenched his fist, the veins on his hand bulging. "I'm not sure if that bastard plans to return, but I can't leave you here alone."

"It's okay," I rasped, my throat parched. "I can take care of myself." I tried to give Qana a smile, but he didn't buy it. "Piqsirpoq protected me."

I saw a struggle flash across Qana's face, but he eventually nodded, then turned and looked toward Hadrian's Wall.

"Polota will be here soon. Don't go wandering off," he instructed, as if I could possibly get up in this state and chase after the fleeing kidnapper. "If necessary, awaken Winter Chill." He tossed the broadsword beside me with a clanging sound.

The sword master glanced at the cleaved armored vehicle--I assumed the chaos inside as well--but if he had any thoughts about it, he didn't express them. He only turned back to look at me once more before leaping away as if gravity had no hold on him.

I reached out and touched Winter Chill's hilt, gripping the warm, pulsing energy tightly.

Lying on my back in the snow, I looked up at the sky, not noticing when the snowfall had stopped. But finally, when a gentle touch caressed the fur on my face, something felt... different.

Those cold, hard ice crystals had finally all melted, turning into a warm stream that trickled down, following the contours of the fur around my eyes.