When Swords Turn Black

"This reminds me of a theory I have that whenever there is a monster at attack, it gets suddenly cloudy because a water controller is gathering the clouds to use the summoning sigil, the sign you saw in the sky, to evacuate the people and bring them back for safety."

"But Sam," Omari sat outside on the rooftop during his lunch at school, with his phone in one hand and a tuna Nicoise sandwich in the other, "wouldn't the people then notice they were teleported?"

"True, but only if there wasn't a time controller altering their perspective of time when they're teleported away, then the entire event becomes a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment. And you've seen the power of a time controller first hand so you know it's not outside the realm of possibility."

"Sure, but how? How can a person do so much?"

"My dear friend, the answer is their crucifix. Those crosses they carry are the source of their power and the neat thing is even a Normie like me can become superhuman with a crucifix in hand, no control needed. Isn't that amazing?" The glee in his voice leaked through the phone. 

Omari chuckled, "What's amazing is how much you know about slayers."

"To become a slayer, you have to go to slayer school, so I'm just studying before I get enrolled next year. Just 3 months left."

Omari, thinking back to what his father said, then asked, "By the way, Sam, in all our years of being friends, you never told me why you want to be a slayer in the first place."

Samson sighed. "I'll tell you next time we see each other." But before Omari could object, Samson ended the call. Omari was about to call back, but the bell rang, marking the end of lunch, so Omari went on with his day. Throughout the day, he would call and talk to Samson, but whenever he asked that same question, he was given the same response. The problem with the response was that Samson was the only one who could decide when they saw each other. Omari couldn't try to find him at school, as Samson was more interested in learning about slayer than algebra. Omari couldn't find him at his home because he 'stayed' with his auntie and did not like her much.

So if Samson didn't want to answer Omari's question, he would just not meet up with Omari for a while, then act like he forgot the next time they do meet up. This a while lasted one month til on Omari's way to school, as he thought about what would make him content in life, he saw Samson waiting for him at the school gate with a duffel bag in hand. Samson was light-skinned, short and muscular. He had a right brown eye and short, brown, nappy hair that didn't grow on the left side of his face because of a burn he had over the entire right side of his face. The burn bleached his left right eye blue and stretched his face, giving him a permanent smirk. "Let's go."

They made their way to a nearby park, but when they sat down, Samson noticed Omari's glaring at him. "What?"

"You can't appear out of nowhere after a month, pull me out of school and still not answer the question I asked you."

Samson sighed hard this time. "I don't want to keep being weak. That's why I want to be a slayer and not just any slayer, but the strongest. So there is your answer."

Hearing this made Omari realize that maybe Samson's dream wouldn't make him happy, but he could not bring himself to say it.

"Now for the reason I brought you here." Samson dropped the duffle bag between him and Omari.

"And what's that?" He asked and Samson, with the biggest grin on his face, unzipped the bag revealing two short, white crucifixes seemingly made of shards.

"Darker, the crucifix is the stronger they are, so these are basically powerless, but it's still the only thing able to give a monster permanent wound, so it's a step forward.."

Omari was at a loss for words, but managed to ask, "How?"

Samson smiled, "For the longest time I've been cloud-chasing and once in a while I would find shards. It did take me long to figure out these were shards from broken crucifixes. So I started welding them together, and I made these for me and you."

"You and who?" Omari didn't know any Asian named Yu.

Samson just laughed, "You dummy, and before you ask why, remember the first time we met and I was getting the living shit -" "Language." "Sorry, living crap beaten out of me and you cut the tops of their hair off and threatened to cut off their fingers if they continued?"

Omari giggled. "I was lying out of my ass." 

"Language, but that's the point. You're a good guy. I want power and I'm going to get it, but I know you desire it too. So take this and carry it with you. I won't let you say no." So Omari took it and put it in his backpack before realizing he still had school and ran as fast as he could, but he couldn't outrun detention. To make it worse, since the teachers didn't know him well, they didn't go easy on him, so he was going to attend detention for the rest of the school year, lucky it was only a month left. During detention, the students would have their phones taken and they would sit in a classroom where they would be supervised by a teacher who would be the only staff member around til five o'clock when they got to go home. During one detention, the teacher had to go, so left and locked the delinquents and Omari. 

To no one's surprise, as soon as the teacher left, everyone started using their phones besides Omari who had actually handed his in. Omari simply sat and played with his butterfly knife till he felt chills go down his spine. He tried to ignore it but the feeling kept persisting. 'Boom!' He jumped out of his seat and looked at the source of the sound. The delinquents had cracked open the door. There was no way they were going to leave the school building as the security would stop them, so they began roaming around. Omari was sure this was going to be bad, but he didn't want to be found in the class alone when the teacher returned, so he grabbed his backpack and headed for the rooftop. As he got closer though, the chills down his spine only got stronger til reached a dark hallway on the last floor and suddenly the chills went. 

The hallway was silent, heavy with the scent of burning ash. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall and from the darkness, a dim orange glow flickered like embers. Slowly, the glow spread, tracing jagged cracks of molten light across a humanoid figure emerging from the dark. Its obsidian-black skin pulsed faintly with fiery veins, each breath crackling like smoldering wood. Molten amber eyes pierced through the rippling heat, unblinking, leaving faint trails as they moved. Smoke curled lazily from its narrow, reptilian mouth, and its claws clicked against the floor, leaving scorch marks in their wake. The air wavered around it, suffocatingly hot, distorting the space like a mirage. It stopped at the edge of the shadows, eyes locked forward—silent, still, yet alive with fire.