Soul Mages (original) (Chapter 2 is up)

[Thar]

Soul Mages
by Thar

[spoiler=Chapter 1 - A Life for a Life]

It was midday in the city of Minneapolis. Rush hour had reached its valley point, but there was only less traffic to be stopped by crosswalks flooding with pedestrians. This time of day, the time where activity in the city flourished, was the worst possible time to kill a man.

 

While the sun heated the rims of every block that made the city, the shadows hid in the alleyways within these blocks, hiding whatever secrets would be revealed by the light and brought to justice. One alleyway held a stench of death that only lingered in the guilty conscience of a scraggly man in a black, torn-up spring hoodie; it was a strange color to be wearing during this time of the year let alone at the peak of noon. The man had his hands in his pockets, looking around in slight paranoia as he scaled the labyrinth of streets through the sea of wandering citizens.

 

“What a price for a simple favor,” the man mumbled to himself as he looked down to watch each step come after another, “do these so-called ‘gifted’ people even care about how valuable a life can be?” He felt the small box that he held in his pocket, reading the engraved brand of the product through his fingers like a blind man: KAY.

 

“Every kiss begins with-” he sighed while holding back a sob, “God damn it! This man was gonna propose!” His complaints were getting suspiciously loud. He looked around but found no one paying any attention to him, and he continued in a zig-zag through the city until he had reached his destination: The Foshay Hotel.

 

Back in the early days of the city, this hotel used to be the tallest building in Minneapolis. In a way, it still felt like it. The man loosened his collar as he entered the front doors. At first he had thought to ask the secretaries, sitting at the desks several meters from the doors, where to go.

 

“Excuse me,” he said, resting an elbow on the desk as one of the secretaries looked up at him, “could you tell me where-”

 

“Well, it took you long enough.” A voice in his head rang like he was inside a bell that was struck. He twitched in response, and regained calmness before smiling at the secretary, “…nevermind. I know where to go.”

 

He staggered off towards the lounging area just off to the right of the doors. He tried to focus his mind on the person speaking through it, trying to communicate, “Where are we meeting? This is a big hotel.”

 

“The observation floor; the thirtieth.” The voice seemed a bit vain from the hidden sigh beforehand, “I shouldn’t have to tell you. You should be able to find me simply by following your common senses.”

 

“Well excuse me for having a guilty conscience for killing a future marriage!” the man was speaking through his mind, so he was not worried of people growing attentive to him, “the object that I confiscated to pay the price for a stupid favor…”

 

“A wedding ring; yes, I know,” the voice echoed, “I will explain more when we meet face to face. Until then, keep your thoughts hidden, Damien.” The ringing in Damien’s head ceased, but the weight of his guilt still lingered on his shoulders. “What is he not telling me?” he murmured, “this is bullshit.”

 

The lines to the elevators stretched down the hallways. Damien saw no point in waiting for such a lazy mode of transportation up a hotel building, so he took the stairs. Set by set, he walked up while suppressing any strenuous effort to hurry. At last he reached the thirtieth floor, entering a large room with large windows revealing a vast view of the city.

 

Along those windows sat a man whose eyes were glued to this view. He had dirty-blonde hair that hung in a bowl cut just touching his ears. He wore a leather jacket that was unzipped to reveal a bright-orange t-shirt with a sky-blue lightning bolt symbol on it.

 

“Does it normally take this long for someone to climb a few sets of stairs,” the man turned his head to meet Damien’s subtle approach, jokingly grinning but serious in context.

 

“I’m only human,” Damien sighed, partly in exhaustion, “So what now?”

 

“Don’t be too hasty, Damien,” the man scoffed, “I am only doing you a ‘simple favor’, remember?”

 

Damien sighed in humiliation, “I was exaggerating. You had me kill a man, for Christ sake.”

 

“Keep your voice down.” The man was stern in his words to settle Damien’s rant, “I understand how you feel, but now is not the time to point fingers. The task I appointed to you was a fair price for what you ask of me. A life for a life. Do you understand?”

 

Damien sighed again and nodded, “I understand. All I ask is for my wife to be alive again.”

 

The man smiled and held out his hand, “The diamond.”

 

Damien pulled out the small box with KAY engraved on the top and tossed it to the man. The man whipped the box open to reveal the five-karat diamond ring inside; a look of satisfaction showed in his eyes, “the payment has been made.”

 

“Great. Now bring my wife back.”

 

The man stood, “What did I say about being hasty? What you are about to witness is beyond your comprehension. In order to truly understand what you are about to witness, you will have to open your mind. Empty it of all impure thoughts. You are about to witness what no ordinary human like yourself is allowed to witness.”

 

Damien raised a brow, “You’re confusing me. What am I about to witness?”

 

The man raised his hands up towards the ceiling, bending his arms from the elbows inward so his hands touched his temples. He kept strong eye-contact with Damien, whom stood paralyzed in confusion, “Empty your mind, Damien. I cannot take you where you need to go if you do not do so.”

 

Damien felt embarrassed. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes. One by one, he blurred out his thoughts until he reached a meditative state. He imagined being in a spa and entered a mode of relaxation. At this point, no thoughts disturbed his conscience.

 

“Open your eyes.”

 

Damien did so, and felt his body jolt violently. The entire building was shaking around him. He felt the need to panic, but was locked in a motionless, thoughtless state where the urge to duck and cover felt locked inside of him, unable to escape. In front of him, the man stood with the same gesture, keeping eye-contact as Damien felt the floor lift beneath him, getting higher and higher until only the sky was visible. Soon Damien could feel his paralysis gradually wane. He gasped as if he’d been dead and brought back to life miraculously. The room ceased to shake, and the man broke his gesture but was as calm as a tree in a slight breeze.

 

“How do you feel?” the man kept the same gaze on Damien.

 

“I…” Damien had the urge to panic, but to his surprise, he didn’t feel that anything had changed, “…I don’t know. What happened? I couldn’t move! I couldn’t think! I couldn’t breathe! I couldn’t even panic!” Damien caught himself and looked back at the other people in the room, but they paid no attention to him. “…those people… they didn’t even notice the room shaking?”

 

“No one notices it,” the man responded, “only those who are mentally connected to me and other people like me can feel the shift. You just witnessed what us Channelers call a ‘parallel shift.’”

 

“‘Parallel shift’? The hell is that?”

 

“A shift in time and space that transports those who are connected to it to a different parallel universe. Right now you are standing in the same spot at the same time you traveled, but in a different alternate universe where the world was affected by a different past decision.”

 

Damien’s head started to hurt, “Okay, that’s… cool and all. But I still don’t understand.” He pointed at the people in the same room, “How can I still see them?”

 

“You are in what is called a ‘perspective void’, which makes every outside influence completely oblivious to the happenings of a parallel shift. You can still see them. You are still in the same room at the same time, but those people don’t even remember you walking into this room. You do not exist to them.”

 

Damien walked over to the people, waving his hand in their face and snapping right next to their ears. The people still showed no hint of attention. “This is unreal,” Damien muffled half-excitedly, “like in a dream. I must be dreaming.”

 

“You have every right to call this a dream,” the man declared, “but I assure you it is real. You are on the same world, just in a different universe. But I’m done wasting time explaining everything to you. A full understanding of a Channeler’s perspective in a Nullie’s mind such as your own will crush you.” Damien cleared his thought and walked away from the people, nodding in clarification that he wished to carry on with the favor at hand. The man gestured to a door along one of the walls, “this way.”

 

Damien reached for the door handle, but the man cut him off, “Please, allow me,” the man turned the knob and pushed the door open. As they both walked through, Damien felt blinded by the bright light that was the clouded sky around the area they stood. It looked and felt like the rooftop of a skyscraper that towered up beyond the clouds, but Damien’s ears did not pop from the height pressure.

 

“Be honored, Damien, for you are on the top of a Channel Tower.”

 

“Channel what?” Damien asked.

 

“I explained to you how us Channelers are gifted, so to speak. Channelers harness the power to channel spiritual energy from the Spirit Realm. This realm lingers in the void of the plane of infinite universes. We are ‘gifted’ with the ability to suppress the reality-imploding cracks in the universe that lies dormant in our bodies. With this crack, the energy from the spiritual void flows in our existence. Every second of our lives unfolds as a regular second, but feels like an eternity. This ‘gift’ is but a curse that makes us Channelers who we are.”

 

“Great,” Damien acknowledged the story with a thumbs-up, “but what exactly is a Channel Tower?”

 

“Channel Towers are what binds us Channelers together. With these towers standing in various locations on this world, he can use them to tap into the combined powers of every Channeler in every universe. Think of it as our own personal internet.”

 

“Seems legit. Now what about my wife?”

 

“This way.”

 

The man led Damien past a large blue crystal that stood in the center of the rooftop. It glowed and sparked with energy as it gave off a humming sound that rattled Damien’s skin as he passed by it. Around the crystal, the man walked up to a flat area raised by a few steps leading up to it. There appeared to be nothing.

 

The man raised his hands to the same gesture that brought Damien here. The raised flat unveiled what appeared to be an altar of white marble with a granite surface. Engraved on the side was a scripture of an unfamiliar language, but Damien assumed it had something to do with bringing back a life.

 

Damien watched as the man took the ring he had confiscated out of the box and bring it towards the crystal. Standing several feet from it, the man flicked the diamond into the crystal with his thumb, summoning an explosion of energy that knocked Damien off his feet. The energy was being suppressed by the man’s gesture and it gathered into his palms. As the energy settled, Damien looked up at the man who was now glowing with energy and walking up to the altar. The man raised his hands, plams-up and level with his chest, chanting the spell:

 

“I, Burtelga, channel the spirits into unison to call upon the revival of a fallen body.”

 

After speaking, the Channeler named Burtelga cast his palms onto the granite of the altar’s surface. The spell took several seconds to cast, and minutes to unfold, but Damien looked upon the altar to see the body of his fallen wife laid before him. Burtelga stepped back to watch Damien’s wife take the first, violent breath of life after days of death. Tears fell as the two saw each other and embraced.

 

Burtelga let the reunion sink in before approaching the couple, “It’s time we got back.” Damien nodded, but his wife looked at him in confusion. Damien said there’s no time to explain and carried her through the doorway that led back into the observation room. Burtelga closed the door behind him and met Damien’s tearful gaze.

 

“Thank you,” Damien happily sobbed, “for everything.”

 

Burtelga nodded and gestured to shift back to reality. The room shook once more and dropped to where it originally stood. The city could be seen from the windows instead of endless sky and clouds, and Damien’s wife remained asleep in his arms.

 

“Take her home,” Burtelga said, “let her rest for a while. She should be fully conscious by next morning.” With that, Damien nodded and took the elevator back down to the ground floor.

 

Burtelga stood there, content with his work but not all that satisfied with using the tower for a simple favor. He hardly knew the man outside of learning his history through his mind. The thought made him skeptical that the Spirit Realm would not be pleased with his actions and he would be put in a mental purgatory to be tried. He could feel the tension, but looked out the window into the city, eying a run-down building in the outskirts of the metropolis. He gestured with one hand this time instead of both, passing through the window towards the building like a spirit in the same seated position he was in. When he phased into the building, several other Channelers sat in an oval, looking at him as they expected his arrival.

 

“You used a Channel Tower for a revival?” spat one of the Channelers who sat directly across from where Burtelga sat, “and you didn’t even know who it was or the guy you were doing it for?”

 

Burtelga had his forehead rest on his hand, “Cut me some slack. Unlike you guys, I can still feel the moral ambiguity of human life.”

 

“Those Nullies wouldn’t know a soul from the soles of their feet!” A slight chuckle followed the crude humor.

 

Burtelga’s face cringed slightly, “That is a stereotype amongst the Channelers. Jumping to such conclusions based on such an assumption is ignorant even for you, Dezigan.”

 

Dezigan scoffed, waving his bright-blonde hair back behind his shoulders, “You should know by now, Burtelga, that we hold any relationships with Nullies strictly limited to their own understanding. You, however, dared to explain to him how our lives worked. That is incredibly foolish of you.”

 

“He needed to understand. Otherwise, he would’ve panicked to the point where the neuralyzation would not fully affect the trauma. I risked ‘exposing’ our existence to conceal it. In a couple of minutes, he will be living happily with his wife without any knowledge of what happened. We remain non-existent.”

 

Dezigan leaned back, putting a bent knuckle on his chin in acknowledgement of Burtelga’s claim, “Well, Burtelga, I must say I’m impressed. But it was a risky move nonetheless. However, I will give you slack regardless. Sometimes I underestimate you.”

 

Another Channeler spoke out, “but what about the Oracle? What will she have to say about it?”

 

Dezigan frowned, “Good point, Flaome. The Oracle sees all. Any speck of imbalance in the plane of existence will cause karma to strike where the scale was tipped.” He stood up and walked towards the window, looking out at the flourishing city. “In the meantime, I want all of you to be cautious. I sense a storm coming, and it’s up to us to balance the damage out amongst this world. The Oracle is counting on us.”

 

Burtelga and the rest of the Channelers could feel it too. A protest was taking place near the capital, and violence was about to break out. “Burtelga,” Dezigan announced, “you’re task is to account for all the deaths that will happen at the state capital. Report them to us and we will meet you there during the aftermath.”

 

Burtelga nodded, tapped his head with two fingers, and drifted through the wall towards the capital. Dezigan sighed, “Be careful.”

[/spoiler]
[url="http://forum.yugiohcardmaker.net/topic/299599-soul-mages-original-chapter-2-is-up/?p=6175415"]Chapter 2 - Alice, the Soul Eater[/url]

[Thar]

[spoiler=Alice, the Soul Stealer]

 

The state capital of Minnesota, St. Paul, was just as flocked as Minneapolis, its twin, was. However, upon arriving, Burtelga could see where the population condensed around the capital building. Like a swarm of yellow-jackets after their hive has been disturbed, people shouted protests, held up signs, and loaded their guns several blocks out. Not a single man or woman was content, and the children were indifferent to it.

 

Burtelga arrived at the scene behind one of the more run-down buildings similar to the one he met up with his comrades in. The landing was a bit rough and almost made him fall, but after waving his arms, he stayed on his feet. The impact kicked up some dirt, though, and it got on his jacket. This was good, he thought, for I was merely scavenging for valuable items that might’ve been dropped here. You never know what you might find in places like these.

 

He casually walked down the side of the building, looking around upon entering the streets where the protest began to grow hot with anger and tension. They all faced towards the capital. Burtelga mapped the trajectory of their gaze and followed the heat source, coming up to a totally congested courtyard in front of the capital entrance, where several if not many security guards stood and kept the mob from entering. Burtelga scoffed and shook his head, “Those guards don’t know what they’re up against. This whole mob could tear them limb from limb.”

 

[hr]

 

Deeper into the crowd, tension broke into conflict like a mosh pit at a rock concert. A tight but plausible space was given to two figures. One figure was a scrawny, tall man with a black cotton hat on with thick sideburns draping the sides of his face. He held an expression of malice and tease towards his opponent.

 

The opponent was a girl about as high as the man’s shoulders. A D-SLR camera hung on her shoulder from a black, leather strap which was just barely slipping after being shoved back several times by the tall man. The look in her eyes met with the man’s and it was obvious that a tussle was forming. She smiled, removing the strap from her shoulder and handing it to her partner who stood along the enclosed circle of spectators. The guy was a few inches shorter than her, but a bit wider around the belly area.

 

“Seems like this ain’t no news story, huh?” the man spat in a groggy, partly Scottish voice, “Tell ya what… I’ll go easy on ya. After all, I’m not supposed to hit a lady.”

 

The girl smiled, “It’s not about whether or not you’re allowed to hit me. It’s about whether you CAN hit me.” The crowd around the two wooed the comment. The man closed his eyes and chuckled.

 

“What’s ya name, sweetheart?”

 

“My name’s Alice, and I may be a photo-journalist, but my heart is not as easily captured as my photos.”

 

“Fair enough. But tell me, Alice: Do you even know what we all’s here for?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious? The city’s government is shut down. Parks are being demolished. Police officers are being cut from duty. Our taxes are being tossed into empty space! This city is too flourished to be moderated like a small town. We need a government!”

 

“What a smart girl you are!”

 

“It’s not intelligence. It’s common sense.”

 

“What are ya sayin’? That I don’t have common sense?”

 

“I suppose so, since you asked the question.”

 

“YOU BITCH! I was only clarifying that you knew!”

 

“Of course you were.”

 

“Alright, no more mister nice guy!” the man lunged and swung a fist at Alice, who ducked, grabbed his arm with both hands and swung him overhead into the concrete ground behind her. She waited a few seconds to clarify that the man was incapacitated and stood up, wiping her hands and cherishing the shocking silence throughout the spectators. The only person cheering was her partner, Jase, whom was still holding her camera. Alice asked for the camera, and took a picture of the defeated man lying bloodied over a crack in the concrete that his body had made on impact.

 

“I think the protest should be ‘Don’t Underestimate Ladies.’” She shouldered her camera and snaked her way out of the crowd followed by Jase. Spectators parted for her to pass, but further out required walking sideways.

 

[hr]

 

Burtelga could feel an eerie settle of tension amidst the crowd. Strange, he thought, because that’s where the heat of the protest was at its breaking point. Could it have already broken out? Burtelga was curious and scanned the area, noticing a small opening where, sure enough, a body was occupying.

 

“Wonderful,” Burtelga mumbled, “the first casualty. I should go see who he is.” Burtelga strolled around the crowd and into where the tussle took place. It was a struggle to get through, but once through he investigated the body and identified it as-

 

“Whoa, what?” there was no identity. The man had no name, no history… nothing, “what the hell? I thought I could identify anyone? What’s going on here?” Burtelga increased his effort to find a trace of identity in the man. Still nothing. Burtelga was dumbstruck. A man with no identity was nothing he had encountered before. He took one last scan. Still nothing. Burtelga decided to look at his face to see if he knew him. He did not, but the man’s face was pale and cold to the touch, “wait a minute…”

 

Burtelga thought about it for a minute; the man was completely empty inside. The man had no soul.

 

“Impossible…” Burtelga looked around only to see hordes of raging people screaming at the capital, demanding justice. They all had souls, but just this man was empty. “This doesn’t make any sense…” Burtelga dropped the man’s empty carcass and stormed back out to the outside of the mob, “why would a commoner like himself be soulless around so many people? The spiritual pressure would make him implode!”

 

[hr]

 

Alice’s bottom lip was bloodied and dirt soaked the downward trail of it on her chin. Adrenaline was rushing through her, so much that Jase could feel it rub off on him.

 

“Alice,” Jase sputtered, “you really are amazing! That guy didn’t stand a chance!”

 

Alice giggled, “You’re cute, Jase. But we should really keep moving around the area. There are plenty of shots I can take for the printers.”

 

Jase was red in the face, “Yes, of course! Let’s keep moving.” The two continued on around the mob. Within several minutes of the walk, a gunshot was heard nearby. Alice headed in the direction of the noise and found a man lying dead in the grass.

 

“Oh no! Alice, someone was shot!”

 

“No, ya think?” Alice rolled her eyes but gave slack to Jase, “Camera. Quick!” Jase threw the camera to her by the strap, “Careful! This is a $400 camera, Jase! I don’t want it dropped!”

 

“Sorry…” Jase looked down in shame. Alice giggled under her breath and aimed the camera shot at the dead man, taking the photo.

 

[hr]

 

Another settle in energy was sensed by Burtelga along the outskirts of the protest. Once again snaking through the crowd, he ran across a body that was shot dead through the chest. Burtelga scanned the body to identify it. In another wave of confusion, this body also had no soul.

 

“Bloody damn!” Burtelga cursed in frustration, “Is this some sort of cursed ground? That everybody who dies loses their soul? How can they be disappearing like this!” Burtelga found a nearby tree and climbed it, scanning the view of the crowd for any more possible settles in energy. Everyone in the crowd still had souls. Burtelga frowned, “this can’t be right. Either karma is against me or there is something out there that has waited for such a gathering to assemble.” He jumped down from the tree and took a good look at the man’s face, “I’ll just have to record their appearance. What use is his history when we can just assume it through his expression?”

 

Another settle took place on the outside of the crowd. This hit Burtelga like a static shock, “There’s got to be an explanation. Whatever it is, I’m gonna find it!” He was sprinting now, desperate to find an answer. He reached the most recent dead body, which, sure enough, had no soul inside. Burtelga looked around frantically, still no sign of the strange happenings. “Ugh, I give up.” He growled, but another settle followed a gut-curdling shout of angry bludgeoning.

 

It was visible from where Burtelga was standing, but not much was told of it. The man’s head was split by a metal rod from a bulky, shirtless man with torn jean shorts and leather boots. In the same line of sight, Burtelga spotted a girl with a camera walking away with what he assumed was a picture of the most recent casualty. He had a strange feeling from assuming such a thing: Why would a girl photo-journalist be taking pictures of gory dead bodies rather than what the actual protest was about?

 

“I thought I’ve seen it all,” he sighed, “what has the world come to?” He began to grow suspicious and followed the girl’s trail. She had a small, plump boy walking beside her, carrying her camera for her. He appeared to be excited to be around her. Burtelga didn’t blame him. By the looks of the girl, Burtelga wouldn’t argue against being with her. Burtelga kept her in his sights, hearing more gunshots and angry shouts.

 

The girl seemed to follow the sounds of death. Burtelga followed, tracking her movements in the crowd where the nearest death took place from what appeared to be a knife to the head. Burtelga quick scanned the body from a distance:

 

Doug McGouder; age 31; occupation: Businessman/owner of Doug’s Dog Diner.

 

Burtelga frowned again, “He seemed so innocent. Why’d he have to die?” But what was most important was that the man still had a soul in him. However, Burtelga still had that one girl in his view, but just barely, enough to see her pull out her camera and take a picture.

 

Burtelga could feel Doug’s soul disappear into the camera.

[/spoiler]

[The Warden]

You've been, wait for it... [url=http://forum.yugiohcardmaker.net/topic/299580-wait-for-it-heart-breakers-episode-2-slim-dusty-the-warrior/?p=6177455]HEART BROKEN![/url]

[Thar]

Oh boy, this should be an experience.