Nightmare Realm Summoner

"Claire?" Alex called again as his heart beat faster still in his chest. He couldn't hear her at all. Not even the drip of blood or the pant of breath. It was like she'd never been there in the first place.

There's no way she just got instantly killed, is there? That can't be possible. She's too tough. I've seen her get literally crushed and walk away like it was nothing. Her abilities make her way too resilient to die that easily.

But he would have heard something if she was alive. Breathing. Scuffling. Anything.

There was none of it.

Alex shifted his stance. The soft scuff of his foot across the ground roared in his ears. It wasn't his hearing that had gone. It was still there. But Claire wasn't.

He was alone.

Panic tried to well in Alex's stomach. He shifted toward where he'd heard Claire's voice, moving as slowly and carefully as he could manage. The soft tap of his foot touching the ground sounded like a gunshot in the utter silence.

Tension sawed at his thoughts. Every single movement felt like it made so much noise that he might as well have strapped an entire mariachi band to his back.

Zeal had to know where he was. Repositioning only made his situation worse. But he couldn't just sit around and wait. He had to know what had happened to Claire. He had to find a way to fight back before the dragon found him as well.

Shit! What do I do? And why is everything so loud?

He could swear he heard his own blood pumping in his ears. It was so loud that Zeal could probably hear it as well. Alex's very existence was like a beacon, calling death to him with a thundering roar.

Why hasn't Zeal attacked me yet? What is he waiting for? Damn it!

No rational thoughts were arising to help him solve the situation. He was completely blind. He didn't know where Zeal or the dragon were, and Claire might have been bleeding out right in front of him and he'd have no way to know.

Alex was denied even the ability to swing wildly. His magic was absent. The only thing he had left to work with were his own hands. No magic or monsters would be coming to save him. And, from the looks of things, neither would Claire.

There was only one way to break out of this.

He had to find a way to take Zeal out.

But how?

His tongue felt dry and his palms were clammy. An attack could come from anywhere. The dragon could have been anywhere. Even walking forward was a risk. He didn't know where the edge of the platform was.

Zeal could literally just sit back and wait until Alex accidentally killed himself by plummeting off the platform. There was a small possibility he'd get a chance to re-activate his Partial Soul Manifestation if he fell off the platform and out of the range of Zeal's magic, but there was an equally likely chance that the older man's domain was far larger than Alex's.

If I dive off the edge, I might be well out of range of the platform a long time before I can create my domain and teleport back to safety. Shit. What do I do?

Moving was death. But standing still was also death — and his nerves could only take so much. The more time passed, the more frayed they would become. His reaction speed would worsen. He'd slip up.

Maybe that was what Zeal was waiting for. The old man might have just been letting Alex's nerves wear him down. Zeal didn't even have to lift a finger to win the fight. He could just sit back until Alex was completely spent, then step in for the final blow.

A spike of anger shot through Alex's thoughts.

He won't even give me the respect of fighting with his own hands and magic? Is Zeal trying to say that I'm so weak that I'm not even worth dealing with?

His hands tightened into balls.

I'm not just going to sit here. I don't care if moving is going to expose my location. Sitting around and doing nothing is even worse. I'm not going to just hope that Zeal runs out of energy. There has to be a way to break this.

Alex gritted his teeth. Every sense his body had — especially his sight — screamed at him to stay still. Sprinting around on a platform when he couldn't even see his own nose was a great way to plummet to his death. Caution was hard coded into the human body. That was how it kept from killing itself.

He crushed those thoughts. Death was waiting for him no matter what he did. At the very least, he wasn't going to sit around until it showed up.

If I die, it's on my terms.

He edged forward, muscles tensed. Alex ignored the sound of his movements and listened as intently as he could, trying to pick up even the faintest sound to go off. He readied himself to lunge to the side if he even so much as heard the dragon approaching.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but endless red.

Alex's hands clenched into even tighter fists. His nails dug into the beds of his palms until blood welled against them. Zeal was screwing with him. There was no other explanation for this.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Damn it. What do I—

A flicker of something caught Alex's eye.

Something that wasn't red.

He spun toward it in an instant.

A lone vertical streak of white, like a single scratch upon the surface of a polished car, glistened in the air several feet away from him. But it didn't remain lone for long. Cracks stretched out of the scratch like the branches of a tree.

Within instants, the lines thickened into proper branches. It didn't just look like a tree. It was a tree. Leaves of white sprouted across the branches as the tree grew thicker still, a painting of white leeching the red from the world.

What is this?

White roots stretched across the ground from the base of the tree. They wound together to form into solid land, outlining the base of the platform. More and more red slithered from the air, swallowed by the growing tree.

And, as the crimson ink filling the world drained away, a kneeling form materialized across the platform from Alex. It was nothing more than a hazy shadow in a sea of red and spilled white inspecting the roots of the growing tree, but he recognized it instantly.

It was Zeal.

Alex exploded into motion. He didn't need to know what the hell was happening. He could barely even see anything other than himself and his target — but he didn't need to.

He raced straight toward Zeal, hands already clenched into tight fists. The faintest outlines of white slithered across the old man's form as he seemed to render into being. Zeal seemed completely focused on the roots of the white tree. He didn't notice Alex's advance until an instant before they were upon each other.

Zeal's eyes snapped up, swirls of white twisting across his face as details etched themselves into his red-hued skin.

"You aren't painting," Zeal said, his eyes going wide in surprise.

Then Alex punched him in the jaw with every scrap of strength he had.

Zeal's head snapped to the side — and pain exploded through Alex's fist as a crack split the air. It was like he'd just punched a brick wall.

"Shit!" Alex snarled, stumbling back. His wrist had snapped. And, by the way several of his fingers were throbbing, several of them hadn't faired any better.

"You can move," Zeal said, his head turning back to Alex as if nothing had happened. The old man rose to his feet, swirls of white twisting through his body and forming even more of the details that had been stolen by the sea of red. "How are you able to move, boy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alex replied through gritted teeth.

I can't stop here. I'm not done.

Alex leapt at Zeal again. The old man flicked his hand — and the red air rippled. A line sliced through it in a blur. It only took Alex an instant to realize that the slice was going to reach him well before his un-injured fist connected with Zeal's chin.

No! I'm not done!

Something deep in Alex's core shifted.

The red around him warped like a droplet of oil dropped into water. The line drove into it and contorted like a piece of crumpling paper, slicing right past Alex harmlessly. It arced to the side and shot past him at an angle that shouldn't have been possible for a straight-moving projectile.

Alex wasn't paying it any mind.

He'd closed the distance between himself and Zeal.

His left palm slammed into Zeal's chin as he unleashed every ounce of force he could muster into the strike, letting out a desperate yell.

A powerful wave of force drove into Alex's arm as the blow connected. It ripped into his chest and sent him staggering backward, pain tearing through his entire limb. He tripped over a protrusion in the ground and fell to his backside with a grunt.

Zeal didn't even flinch. The old man just looked down at Alex, white slithering through more and more of his features as the red in the environment continued to drain away.

Damn it! Why can't I hurt him?

Alex forced himself back up. He could see again. Even if he didn't have his magic, he could still fight.

"How are you doing this?" Zeal asked, his head tilting to the side in curiosity. "You haven't painted at all. That shouldn't be possible."

"I already told you, I've got no idea what you're talking about," Alex growled.

Zeal simply pointed over Alex's shoulder toward the tree of white.

It might not have been the smartest move to actually look where someone he was fighting was pointing, but Alex's head moved before his mind caught up to it. He glanced back at the tree.

Then his eyes went wide.

Kneeling within the white wood trunk was Claire. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes were closed — but she most certainly wasn't squashed. The tree grew all around her, continuing to stretch through the sea of red as it reached for the heavens.

"What did you do to her?" Alex asked, spinning back to Zeal.

"The girl is unharmed," Zeal said. "What you witness is a Soul Painting. I have sealed both you and the girl within an illusionary canvas of my power. Your soul should be seeping free and painting an image of your true nature, just as hers is. You should believe that you are fighting for your life against my Soul Manifestation. How is it that you are talking to me?"

"This is an illusion?" Alex blinked.

Wait. Did my Sovereign Cataclysm Title break me free from his magic? I haven't felt like I was fighting at all aside from that very first moment where Claire called out to me. Does that mean it was fake, and the reason she stopped answering was because I woke up?

"It was," Zeal said. His eyes narrowed. "But your soul hasn't emerged in the slightest, and you just deflected a very real attack from me without any access to your own magic. I think I am beginning to see why it is that Meiderly took interest in you."

A snap echoed through the silence surrounding them.

Alex spun back toward the tree growing around Claire just in time to see a crack split down its very center, carving all the way down to drive into her shoulders like a falling bolt of lightning.

Claire's eyes snapped open.

They were pitch black, like two voids of ink.

She rose as the two halves of the tree fell to the ground at her sides. They landed with a thunderous crash, sending fragments of white spinning through the red void surrounding them.

"I did not enjoy that," Claire said, her words as flat as an anvil.

"And the second one escapes as well," Zeal said, crossing his arms behind his back and tilting his head to the side like a curious owl. "Isn't that interesting?"

"How interesting are we talking?" Alex asked, flexing his throbbing wrist as he lowered back into a fighting stance. "Enough that you might say you're impressed?"

Zeal's lips twitched.

Then he snapped his fingers.

The red evaporated from the sky as the world abruptly snapped back into its proper colors. They were standing on a normal platform in the skies of the Mirrorlands once more, any traces of odd coloration gone.

"Very well," Zeal said. He crossed his legs and sat down — right on top of his rug. They hadn't even managed to move him from the spot he'd started the fight in. He interlaced his fingers and arched an eyebrow, indicating the ground before him. "Sit. You have questions… and have earned my attention. Let us pray you keep it."