Chapter 11 — A Shift in Control

Snap!

Lyon ducked just in time. The first wolf’s jaws passed over his head so close that they tore out a few strands of white hair.

He felt the hot, rotten air of the animal’s breath for an instant, and then Lyon had already pushed himself to the side with both legs, landing back on the snow three meters away.

Another wolf came from his right.

Snap.

He ducked again. The bite closed in the air with a dry clack. Another one appeared behind him. Another in front. The pack was organizing itself. It was splitting up.

They were trying to surround him.

'Fast. Think fast.'

Lyon made a long jump forward, took advantage of the moment when the wolf in front of him opened its mouth to bite, and drove his fist straight into its jaw.

Crunch!

Lyon felt the impact against bone and fang. There was an ugly cracking sound. One of the wolf’s teeth came loose and shot off to the side, falling into the snow with a small puff of steam.

The animal threw its head back and let out a short howl, more surprised than hurt, its mouth filling with black blood.

And Lyon stepped back, shaking his hand.

"Ow!"

His knuckles were split open. The skin on his hand had burst from the same blow. The bones of his middle finger felt strange. A strip of skin was hanging from his pinky.

But before he could seriously complain, the skin began closing on its own. The bones made a small crack as they shifted back into place.

The bleeding stopped. And in three or four seconds, his hand was whole again.

'Well, at least that works.'

“You’re not doing much damage.”

'I know.'

"And their friends are angrier now."

'I know.'

"Well, I was just commenting."

The other wolves were, in fact, angrier. The one whose tooth he had broken was licking its mouth with its tongue, its yellow eyes shining, and the others were covering it, growling low, with their twisted horns pointed forward like natural spears.

Lyon jumped backward again and felt the cold slip through the opening of his jacket.

And here came the other problem.

The cold.

The damn cold wasn’t giving him a break. Every second he spent in this world, his body temperature sank lower. The blizzard hit him directly in the face. The air he breathed through the face mask entered freezing and came out steaming. The oversized sleeves of the rain jacket were already stiff.

Another wolf lunged.

Lyon dodged it with a small vertical push. He placed his foot on nothing and jumped as if there were an invisible step there. Because there actually was. A small barrier, about the size of a pot lid, that he had created without thinking in the air so he could step on it and rise.

That was one of the only two spells he knew how to use.

A barrier, and its variant that allowed him to create small invisible platforms in the air to walk on.

That was it.

And right now, against twelve giant wolves in a frozen world, those two things were not enough.

Lyon spun in the air and kicked the wolf that had jumped underneath him. He hit it on the side of the neck with enough force for the animal to let out a small howl and stumble.

But that was all.

No cut. No open wound. No broken bone. The fur on these things was too thick. The skin underneath was too tough. His blows reached them and hurt them, but they didn’t do real damage.

Lyon landed in the snow with a grimace under the face mask.

"Lyon," the voice inside his head said, with no trace of amusement left. "Do you know what I’ve been telling you for months?"

'No.'

"Yes, you do."

'I don’t remember.'

"That if you bothered to learn even a little more magic instead of spending every night playing those video games of yours, you wouldn’t be in this situation."

'Now is not the time.'

"This is EXACTLY the time."

'Fine, lecture me all you want later. Not now.'

"I won’t lecture you later because you’ll either be frozen to death or split in half by a wolf."

Lyon gritted his teeth.

Because she was right. It was hard to admit. It was very hard to admit. But the voice was completely right.

At the pace this fight was going, he wasn’t going to win quickly. Every minute he wasted was another minute of cold, and another minute closer to the official hunters arriving on the other side of the portal, crossing through, and finding him there, in the middle of the snow, with a pack of wolves and no possible explanation.

And if that happened, it was over. Normal life was over. Everything was over.

Another wolf threw itself at him. Lyon dodged with a spin and jumped three meters back, stepping on two invisible barriers along the way.

Lyon landed in the snow again, panting through the face mask.

'Fine.'

'Fine, fine, fine.'

'All right.'

Lyon took a deep breath. His chest expanded under the jacket. He clenched his fists inside the sleeves.

And then, in the lowest and quickest voice he could manage, he said:

"Take control of the body."

There was silence.

And then, the voice spoke very slowly, with a tone she had not used all day.

"…Excuse me, what?"

"You heard me."

"No, no, no. Sorry. I didn’t hear you. Repeat that."

"You heard me perfectly."

"Lyon, dear," the voice said, and now she did sound like she was savoring every word as if it were the dessert of her life. "Seriously. I need you to repeat it. For personal reasons. I need to hear it twice so I can properly process it."

"Take control already!"

The voice laughed.

She laughed so hard that Lyon could almost feel the vibration behind his eyes.

"Oh my," she said between laughs. "Oh my, oh my. Look at that. My human is surrendering."

"Shut up and do it!"

"Okay, okay."

"NOW!"

"I’m going, I’m going."

And then everything changed.

The cold vanished at once. The blizzard vanished. The wolves vanished. The feeling of the face mask against his nose, the feeling of snow under his sneakers, the feeling of frozen air inside his lungs, everything went out at the same time, like turning off a television.

And Lyon appeared somewhere else.

A small room.

Small but comfortable. A soft rug under his feet. A lamp with warm light in the corner. An armchair with thick cushions. And on the front wall, taking up almost the entire surface, a large, wide, bright screen.

And on the screen, he could see what was happening outside.

The wolves. The snow. The blizzard. Everything, in first person, as if Lyon were watching a video game from the character’s point of view.

Except now the character was not him.

Lyon sat down in the armchair without meaning to sit. His body did it on its own, as if it knew that was the right thing to do in that space. He leaned back against the cushion. He looked at the screen.

And on the screen, the voice spoke for the first time with his body’s mouth.

"Ah…"

That was all.

An "ah."

A long sigh.

A sigh from someone who had spent a long time locked in a small place and had finally stepped outside to breathe.

And then, she moved the body. She stretched. She cracked her neck to one side, then to the other. She raised her arms above her head and stretched her shoulders.

All of it with deliberate slowness, almost enjoying herself, as if the body were an outfit she had put on after a very long time.

'Hey, hurry up. The wolves are—'

"Shhh, Lyon. Let me enjoy it for a second."

And on the screen, one of the wolves lunged forward.

The voice, with Lyon’s body, did not dodge.

She simply brought out the wings.

Fwoop.

Two black, leathery wings sprouted from behind the white-haired girl’s back, tearing through the rain jacket as if the fabric didn’t exist.

The wings opened fully in a single motion, and with one enormous flap, the girl rose into the sky.

The wolf passed below, biting empty air.

The others lunged too. They all jumped at the same time. But the voice had already risen high, far above their jaws.

The wolves landed in the snow, growling, looking up.

And she laughed.

"Wow," she said, looking down with a smile Lyon had never put on his own face. "I missed this so much."

'Stop enjoying yourself and do it already.'

"Yes, yes, I’m going."

The girl floated in the air with her wings spread. She raised one hand. Closed her eyes for a second. Concentrated.

And nothing happened.

She frowned.

She raised her hand again. Concentrated harder. Moved her fingers as if she were trying to grab something invisible in the air.

And nothing. Nothing at all.

"…Ow."

'What’s wrong?'

"It’s just…"

"…"

"It’s the cold. And also, it’s been a while since I manipulated mana while outside."

'…Okay…'

"One moment. One moment. Let me concentrate."

She gritted her teeth. Tried again. Palm open, fingers slightly curled. She tried to summon fire. A small fire to warm her hand and from there build something bigger.

Nothing.

"Ugh..."

Another grinding of teeth. Stronger this time.

"All right," she muttered, now sounding more practical. "All right. Plan B."

And then, without hesitation, she brought the palm of her left hand to her mouth and bit it.

Crunch.

Four wounds opened. Blood began to pour out, thick, dark, fast. And the girl, holding her wounded hand up, flicked it forward.

From the wounds, daggers came out.

Twelve small daggers, the size of a nail file, all red, all glowing, all with sharp tips.

She closed her fingers with precision, and the daggers flew.

Slash. Slash. Slash. Slash.

They shot toward the wolves below at a speed Lyon had never seen from anyone’s hand.

Twelve different paths, each one aimed at a different wolf. And all twelve hit.

But it was disappointing.

The daggers sank barely two centimeters into the wolves. They stayed stuck in their fur. The animals felt the prick, let out short howls of annoyance, but it was as if they had been stabbed by a rose thorn.

'That didn’t do anything to them.'

"Wait."

The girl closed her hand into a fist. Hard.

And the daggers exploded.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Twelve small but sharp explosions, each one opening a red crater on the side of a different wolf.

Now yes.

Now that had done real damage.

This time, the howls were real howls. Several wolves staggered. One fell sideways into the snow, with an open wound on its shoulder leaking red smoke.

She nodded slowly.

"Better."

'Can you make a bigger one?'

"Wait."

She bit her hand again, this time deeper. More blood came out. She tried to form, in the air, a single sword. A big sword. A long sword, the size of her arm, red, glowing.

And the sword formed halfway. The handle appeared, part of the blade appeared, and then it dissolved into the air like evaporating water.

"Ow…"

'What happened?'

"I don’t have enough."

'What do you mean you don’t have enough?'

"I mean I don’t have enough, Lyon. I don’t have enough."

The girl let out a long, tired sigh.

"Do you know what the worst part of all of this is?" she said out loud, with Lyon’s body’s mouth. "That if you took this more seriously, this wouldn’t happen to me. If you ate something with blood once in a while, even just a little, I’d have more reserves. If you let me go out to practice at night, not even for long, just one hour, twice a week, this would work on the first try. But no. You have to play your video games. You have to study your design. You have to be the most normal human in the world. But whenever something goes wrong, you ask me for help."

Lyon, sitting in the armchair, stayed quiet.

Because every word was getting through to him. Because he felt a little guilty. And because on top of that, he was mentally recording every movement, every gesture, every word she said about how the magic felt.

Because deep down, he was learning.

She noticed.

"Ah, look at that. The silence of guilt."

'…'

"Well. Back to business."

She descended. She slowly lowered herself toward the wounded wolf that had fallen sideways in the snow. The animal saw her coming. It tried to stand up but couldn’t. The other wolves around them were still moving too, but none reached her in time to jump.

She extended both hands toward the fallen wolf.

Closed her eyes.

And this time, it worked.

It wasn’t a spell. It was a mixture. She combined the scattered mana in the freezing air with the blood particles already in the wounded wolf’s fur, the ones that had splashed onto it from the previous explosions.

Two different ingredients, in two different places, joining at a single point above the animal’s body.

The point began to glow.

The other wolves, by instinct, approached to attack her while she was concentrating.

And that was exactly their problem.

Craaaash!!!

The explosion was big.

A wave of heat and red light expanded in a circle seven or eight meters in radius, sweeping away everything inside that circle.

The snow melted instantly. Steam rose into the sky. The wounded wolf ceased to exist. And the other wolves, the five or six that had gotten close to attack, went flying through the air with body parts damaged or directly torn off.

They fell one after another into the snow several meters away. Some no longer moved. Others twitched a little and then went still.

The girl lowered her arms.

And breathed.

"Good."

But Lyon, from the armchair, noticed something else.

'…Hey. You’re almost naked.'

"What?"

'The clothes. The explosion destroyed half your clothes.'

She looked at herself.

And indeed.

The rain jacket was shredded in the front. The shirt underneath had lost an entire sleeve and a large part of the torso. The shorts were charred around the edges.

The face mask was gone, and so were the sunglasses.

She shrugged.

"Meh. Doesn’t matter."

'What do you mean it doesn’t matter?!'

"We’re in a frozen world, Lyon. Nobody is watching. And it’s not like I care about showing the body anyway. It’s your body. Though technically, right now it’s my body. It’s complicated."

'It’s MY body!'

"Ah, now it’s your body."

'It was always my body!'

She laughed and spun in the air, still floating with her wings open. In the snow, only one remained. One single wolf, the one farthest away, the one that had dodged the explosion out of pure luck. It was standing back up on all four legs, breathing heavily, staring at her.

"Well," she said. "There’s one left. Do you want it?"

'Me?'

"Yes. I already had my fun. Now it’s your turn. It’s like when two friends share a video game, right? Let’s see if you at least understand that."

'…Yes. Give it to me.'

"That’s my human."

And everything changed again.

The room disappeared. The armchair disappeared. The screen disappeared. The cold returned all at once. The blizzard returned all at once. The wolves, or what was left of them, returned to real view.

Lyon was standing in the snow again, with his wings still out, his clothes in shreds, and his left hand still bleeding.

And from the other side, inside his head, he felt the voice settling in. Like someone throwing themselves onto a bed after a long day.

She was stretching in the armchair. Curling up between the cushions and getting comfortable to watch the show.

"Go on, Lyon. Show me."

Lyon took a deep breath.

The last wolf lunged.

Heavy steps sounded over the snow, head low, twisted horns pointed forward, yellow eyes shining with rage.

Lyon leaned to the right. Dodged the horns. The wolf passed by his side at full speed.

And in that instant, Lyon spun around, closed his right fist, and tried to remember what he had seen the voice do.

The mana in the air.

The blood particles he already had in his hand.

The two ingredients joining at a single point.

His fist ignited.

A small red fire, clumsy, trembling, but fire at last.

'It worked!'

"Aw, my little human learned something! I’m so proud!"

The wolf turned to attack him again. Lyon jumped and drove his burning fist straight into the side of its body.

Craash!!

The explosion wasn’t like hers, but it worked. It opened a crater in the wolf’s side and sent it two meters to the side, howling in pain.

Lyon landed. He approached with firm steps. The wolf tried to get up, and Lyon punched it normally in the head.

Bam!

With the wound already open, with the bone already weakened, with the vampire strength of the body behind the blow, this time it went through.

The wolf’s skull gave in. The animal collapsed into the snow and stopped moving.

Silence.

Only the blizzard.

Lyon straightened up, breathing through the face mask, with his right fist still smoking a little from the fire.

'Done.'

"Done."

'Good. Let’s go back to—'

"Lyon."

'What?'

"People are entering through the portal."

Lyon froze.

'Already?'

"Already. Two people. Hunters."

'Shit!'

Lyon flapped his wings at once and folded them against his back. Red light wrapped around him for an instant. When it faded, he had returned to his bat form.

Behind him, about thirty meters away, two figures appeared through the blizzard.

A boy and a girl.

The boy carried a long sword with a decorated hilt. The girl carried a bow with an arrow already nocked. Both wore the distinctive equipment of the Association’s hunters, with reflective details and thick cloaks that insulated them from the cold.

They moved carefully, with trained eyes, ready to fight whatever had crossed the portal from the other side.

What they did not expect was what they saw.

An entire pack of giant wolves dead in the snow. Smoking craters. Split bodies. Black blood everywhere.

“What the hell happened here?” the girl said, confused.