August Intruder- Chapter 253- Phantom Speech (Patreon)

It had been two days since Uncle Dorthna had come to get them from the mysterious building in the school. They had spent the days in the house while Melmarc had remained uncomfortable to know that Bayad was living in the house with them. Their father was not home. He was out and about, according to Uncle Dorthna. None of them bothered asking what exactly out and about meant because they knew that out and about could mean anything when it came to their father.

Interestingly enough, even with all the discomfort, Melmarc had slept like a baby last night. There was just something different about sleeping in his bed at home that sleeping in his bed in his apartment just couldn’t beat.

When he woke up it was with a full stretch and a slight worry on his mind. He turned  in his bed and looked at Ark. Ark was already awake, reading from one of his old comic books. Despite comics and novels being online, Ark liked having physical copies. In fact, while Melmarc was not sure, he had a feeling that Ark did not like reading them online. He could always ask, but it was not something important enough that it had come up.

He moved his hand to rub his eyes and asked, “Do you have anything against reading it on your phone?”

Ark looked up from the book to look at him. “Nope.” He rubbed the edge of one of the pages between his thumb and forefinger. “I just like having a collection.”

That said, he closed the book and placed it on the bed beside him.

“So, tell me,” he continued. “What’s it like not having a familiar?”

“Existential assistant,” Melmarc corrected before he could stop himself. Uncle Dorthna had put Veebee on a time out and had chosen not to speak about the voidbeast for the last two days. “And it doesn’t feel too bad. Unlike when we went looking for him, I can still feel his presence, it’s just that I can’t really tell where he is. It’s almost like…”

He paused. Maybe if he used the same technique Ark had shown him he could find Veebee. Then again, it was not as if Veebee was in trouble, it was just in a time out.

“Almost like what?” Ark asked.

Melmarc blinked. “Sorry,” he apologized for the delay. “It’s almost as if I know that  he’s been sent to his room and he’s not happy about it. I don’t know where exactly he is but I know that he’s somewhere… if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Ark confirmed. He was sitting on his bed, his back rested comfortably against the high headrest. He placed a hand on his chest. “I can feel Spitfire every day. He just feels far away, as if he just can’t talk to me. Yet every time I feel as if he has something to say but just can’t say it. Call it a phantom speech.”

Melmarc cocked his brow at that. He would’ve said that it was enough to clear the sleep from his eyes but there was never any sleep left in his eyes. Whenever he woke up from sleep, there was no fatigue, there was no grogginess. Not anymore. Even going to sleep was not from fatigue.

When last did I fight against sleep? he wondered. It seemed like forever ago.

“But you still feel him?” Melmarc asked.

Ark nodded. “Every day.”

It made Melmarc remember what Veebee thought about Ark—how he would miss him when he was gone. He hadn’t been able to confirm what exactly it was about from Veebe. Not yet at least.

Still, there was an inkling of a thought in his mind. It was something that told him that Ark knew whatever it was that Veebee was talking about. It was the way with Ark to know the dangerous things that he ends up in from having the experience of most often putting himself in those dangerous situations leading to those dangerous things.

“Ark.”

Ark gave him a boyish grin. “Yes, baby brother? Should I be worried?”

“Worried?” Melmarc blinked, confused. “Why should you be worried?”

“You know how you’ve always been terrible at masking your feelings?”

Melmarc nodded. But he was fairly certain he had gotten better at it in recent times. “I think I’ve gotten better at that.”

Ark made a gesture that let Melmarc know that it was an arguable concept. “Anyway,” he went on, “while we can say you’ve gotten better at hiding it, you’ve not gotten that much better. You look like you are about to give me bad news." Ark adjusted on the bed. He now sat down with both legs crossed beneath him like a monk. Facing Melmarc bodily, he sat with a straight back. “So, what’s up? Hit me.”

Melmarc took a steadying breath. “I think that Veebee thinks that you’re going to die.”

Ark said nothing.

There was silence for a moment that felt very long, maybe too long even. It wasn’t even what the novels liked to describe as a pregnant silence. This one was empty, devoid of anything. There was neither fear nor anticipation, worry or anger. There was nothing. It was just silence.

“Ark,” Melmarc pressed.

In the end, Ark sighed. “It’s nothing that serious. It’s just—”

Dissonant.

Ark frowned. “Poor wording,” he said immediately.

“Yep,” Melmarc confirmed with a little chuckle. “Spotted it like a lion and a gazelle.”

“So, now I have to tell you the direct truth, don’t I?”

“Yep.”

“Am I allowed to plead the fifth?”

“Nope.”

Ark looked at him, considered his position and his answer. “You know how Spitfire is missing and currently residing within me somehow?”

“I’m aware of everything thus far.”

“Well, that is the reason,” Ark finished.

Melmarc blinked, then his brows furrowed. “And that is all? Yes or no.”

“I’d lie but you would catch me.”

Melmarc sighed. “Come on. If you are going through something supernaturally dangerous, I should know too.”

“You should?” Ark raised a brow at that. “Like you really think that you should?”

“I do. Or am I wrong?”

Ark hesitated for only a moment before answering. “I guess you’re not.”

“So, what does Spitfire being inside you have to do with you dying?”

“I am a [Demon Lord] for a reason,” Ark began. “I am not Gifted like everyone else, obviously. My mana did not finally take form and develop into a series of skills that I can pick from. Spitfire contaminated my mana with all the biting that he was doing in the beginning. This time, however, Spitfire is biologically merged with me. Spitfire’s biological make up flows through my veins.”

That sounded like the worst kind of bad situation to be in as far as Melmarc was concerned.

“Because of that, my mana is no longer going to be the only thing that’s contaminated. And, unlike you, I don’t have the ability to assimilate with anything. At least not that I know off.”

“So, what specifically does that mean?” Melmarc asked.

“It means that by the time Spitfire is done and hopefully finds a way to come out, I will, biologically speaking, be part demon.”

“For fuck sake, Ark,” Melmarc groaned. “You’ve known this but kept it from me?”

“I’ve known that I’m going to be part demon and kept it from you? Yes.” Ark shrugged as if it was not a big deal. “I’ll be part demon which will make me stronger than a human being because, according to Spitfire, biologically, demons are stronger than humans when it comes to the prowess that has anything to do with combat.”

“So you’ll be stronger and faster?” Melmarc asked.

Ark nodded. “Sharper too. Heightened senses and the likes. You know how a hawk can see better than a human being?”

Melmarc nodded. Everyone knew this. There were Gifted humans with good perception stats who still couldn’t see as well as hawks or eagles when it comes to distance.

“And you know how base stats work?” Ark asked.

Melmarc gave him a flat look. “I do.”

Zero was not everyone’s base stat at the point of gaining a class. With the effect of skills out of the way, someone stronger than a certain individual was still stronger than said individual. For example, if a person could lift two hundred and twenty-five pounds and a second person could lift only a hundred pounds, if they both got five points in strength, the first person would still be able to lift a hundred and twenty-five more pounds than the second person.

“I’ll also have fire resistance,” Ark said. “Not as a skill but just a natural trait. I’ll see like an eagle if I want. I’ll have heightened senses. I’ll have arms like steel.” Ark was beginning to smile at the thought of it. “I’ll be superhuman and then have my class on top of it all.”

“And what’s the possible downside?” Melmarc asked. There had to be a catch.

Ark shrugged. “The process might drive me insane, in which case I’ll end up becoming a mad demon and you’ll have to kill me.”

“Or?”

“Or the process will kill me before I get the chance to run mad.” Ark waved the idea aside dismissively. “But the chances of that happening are slim to none.”

Melmarc watched his brother. He felt as if there was something that Ark still wasn’t telling him. “What else?” he asked.

Ark laughed a little. “You just won’t let me have my secrets, will you?”

“No.” Melmarc answered, shaking his head. “Not if it puts you in danger. So, what else?”

Ark sighed as if Melmarc was making a big deal out of a simple situation. “There is also the issue of his creator.”

Melmarc blinked, confused. “God?”

“God?” Ark asked with equal confusion.

“Didn’t he make all things?” Melmarc asked.

Ark laughed again. “You own the world, and Uncle Dorthna told you about [Creator]s and you’re still stuck on God making all things. No, not God. Apparently, according to the little demonic lore that Spitfire is aware of, God made all things and some archangels fell. It is believed that these archangels that fell are the first to gain the [Creator] title, I say this because he said that the archangels learnt how to create demons. I’m just guessing it’s with the [Creator] title.”

“Okay, I’m with you so far.”

“The first created demons were demon lords,” Ark continued. “And, apparently, some of them went on to learn how to create demons too. Thus, Spitfire’s creator.”

“So what? His creator is a fallen archangel?”

Ark shook his head. “The archangels created demon lords who on a very small level became demon kings. But only demon kings can create, and that’s just like one percent of demon kings.”

“So the elite of the elite created Spitfire?”

“Exactly,” Ark confirmed. “And he is even rarer in his own case because he is one of a handful of the only demons created as a demon king. He is a demon prince that will automatically grow to become a demon king no matter what he does. The demon king in him is a matter of maturity, like a boy to a man. That’s probably the only reason he could give me the [Demon Lord] class.”

So, Spitfire was far more special than they thought.

“Alright, then what’s up with his creator?”

Ark scratched the back of ius neck awkwardly. “His creator is probably looking for him.”

Melmarc wasn’t sure how big of a problem that was. “Wait, can his creator find a way to get here? from what we know, apart from these [Faker] guys, only portals and Chaos Runs can come in.”

“Spitfire thinks there might be a way for his creator to get here.”

“How did Spitfire get here? Did he run away from home or something?”

Ark shook his head. “He entered a portal he saw and found himself here during the events of a Chaos Run. He got past all the Delvers and ran into me a few weeks later.”

“Spitfire was on earth for two weeks before running into you?” Melmarc asked, stupefied. “How did he survive?”

“Rats, rodents.” Ark shrugged. “He ate anything he could hunt without drawing attention.”

“Must’ve been tough.”

“Not really.” Ark smiled as if he was remembering a nostalgic memory. “He said that it felt like freedom. Apparently, the demon world isn’t a very free place for a demon prince, especially one as young as him.”

“And how young is that, exactly?”

“A year and six months,” Ark answered. “He’s still a kid to be honest. He entered the portal because he was curious and something smelled good on the other side of the portal.”

It was interesting and worrying to think that a creature like Spitfire had ended up in their world not by design or some frantic escape but simply because he was a curious child.

“Hold up,” Melmarc said, realizing something. “Some [Demon Lord]s can become [Demon King]s, right?”

“Right, but only a handful. Like the one percent of the one percent.”

“Then,” he asked, knowing that it would’ve crossed Ark’s mind at some point. “What do you have to do to become a [Demon King]?”

“No idea.” Ark sighed as if it was something that evaded him and was still evading him. “If Spitfire knows how to do it, he’s not telling me.”

“And you’ve asked?”

“I have.” Ark uncrossed his legs and laid down, looking up at the ceiling. “He said that a demon king just becomes a demon king. There’s no known way. You’re lucky or you’re not. And if the demon kings know a way, they are keeping the secret very close to their chests.”

“What of the archangels?” Melmarc asked, now wondering why he was looking for a way to make Ark a [Demon King].

“When you find a way to talk freely and about national secrets with the president, let me know,” Ark answered. “That way I can tell Spitfire and he’ll use the method to talk to the fallen archangels.”

“Or,” Melmarc raised a hand to stall him, an idea in mind, “we could ask the abomination we’ve got.”

Ark paused. “You think he’ll want to help us?”

“Probably.” Melmarc shrugged. “Something tells me that Uncle Dorthna won’t tell you if he knows the procedure, but since Bayad has been with him for a while, he might not be so unwilling to help us out.”

“Well, if you put it that—”

A new sensation hit Melmarc and he perked up suddenly, halting Ark’s words. Ark gave him a curious look.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

Melmarc got up from the bed. “Veebee,” he said, forgetting to take his shirt. “It’s in the house.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

Ark was already up from his bed and heading for the door. They were out of the room and heading for the living room when Melmarc realized he had not worn a shirt. All he had on was the shorts he’d worn to sleep.

When they got to the living room, they were hit with an interesting sight.

Uncle Dorthna was seated comfortably on his couch, watching a show on the television. It was one of his shows that didn’t have a channel tag to let them know where it was from. On the screen was a man with an electrical whip. He was with an interesting looking animal fighting off some creatures.

Between their uncle and his television, Bayad was kneeling on the ground with his hands held high above his head in punishment. More interestingly was what was beside Bayad.

Veebee was also kneeling on the ground with its hands held above its head.

Uncle Dorthna looked at them with a smile. “Just the boys we were waiting for.”

Ark and Melmarc looked at each other. They blinked in their shared confusion before Ark opted to speak. “Are we safe?”

“Safe enough,” their uncle answered. “For now. Veebee, tell your master what you told me.”

Veebee looked at Melmarc. It wanted to speak, then paused. It looked at Uncle Dorthna.

He made a gesture urging it to go ahead, not looking pleased to give the go ahead. “You can talk the way you like.”

<<Veebee locate portal,>> it said carefully, eyes darting to Uncle Dorthna every now and again. <<Portal strong. But portal not open yet. Veebee open?>>