cHApTEr 7. AnTiTHE(fT)is (2 of 3)

With all the demolition in the abandoned house caused by the Soul Collective, it was no wonder that somebody had called the police. The attack on the university was still fresh in the city's memory, so Mioray wouldn’t have been surprised if a whole police unit had been dispatched to check what was happening. Luckily, through the boarded-up windows, they saw only one patrol car with two officers.

Not that it made the situation any less messy. There was literally nothing they could say to talk their way out of trouble. How would they explain the noise and destruction? Where would they even start? There was hardly a satisfactory explanation for four adults and one kid being here in the middle of the night. And telling the truth about the Soul Collective would only complicate things further.

“If Erinel shared her powers with us, maybe we could also emit that sleeping gas with a flowery scent?” Mioray wondered.

“Miss Erinel can do that?” Matt asked, surprised. He was still standing on the roof.

“Matt, be quiet, or they’ll hear us!” Farah hissed.

The officers had already left their car, though they didn’t go straight to the house. At first, they lingered beside it, scanning the street and chatting with each other. It wouldn’t be long before they went inside, though.

Mia helped Terry get up, while Farah grabbed her backpack, which had conveniently been left behind by the Soul Collective after it disappeared into the portal. Mioray didn’t know what to do. He really didn’t want to get involved with the police again.

“What mess have you gotten yourselves into?”

Everyone turned their heads toward the voice. Standing in the hole at the back of the house – because of course there was a hole after the Soul Collective’s rampage – was Kevin. His glasses caught the light, glinting with displeasure.

So now he arrives, after everything had already been over!

“Hey there, Nails Corpse!” Terry greeted him with a sour smile, the kind you’d expect from someone whose foot had been turned into a blood puddle and now needed support just to stand. In this case, Mia was holding him up. “Don’t worry, no need for you to dirty your suit. We dealt with the Soul Collective, though it wasn’t easy, let me tell you.”

“We can talk about this later,” Kevin snapped, his face wrinkling in irritation at Terry calling him by nickname.

He stepped through the hole and headed toward the front door. At the same time, the officers started moving toward the house.

“I’ll stall them,” Kevin said. “You escape through the hole. There’s a diner nearby called Twenty-Four Moons. Erinel is waiting for us there. Go.”

“Wait a minute, we can’t just leave!” Farah protested. “My phone is lying somewhere around here, and I need it!”

Kevin clicked his tongue. “I’ll take care of it.”

“My phone is missing too,” Mioray added, seizing the opportunity.

Kevin shot him a sharp look, brows furrowing.

“Oh, and Matt is kinda stuck on the roof,” Mioray said, pointing up.

“For the love of God, what is wrong with you people?!” Kevin groaned. He looked up, spotting Matt waving sheepishly. With an exasperated sigh, Kevin rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. “How did he even get there? No, wait. I don’t want to know.” He reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out a handful of crescent moon-shaped fingernails. “I’ll deal with that too. Any other silly requests?”

“Yeah,” Terry said, “if one of the officers is a beautiful young lady, do me a favor and ask her out. You are in desperate need of a woman’s love.”

Kevin ignored him, while Mia lightly smacked Terry on the head. He tried to explain that it was just a joke, but Mia wasn’t having it. His excuse sounded half-hearted anyway. He had meant to mock Kevin. Meanwhile, Mia removed the tireless wheel from his foot and helped him toward the hole.

Farah followed, with the backpack on her shoulder. Mioray hobbled after her. At the hole, he paused and gave Matt one last look. The boy shrugged, tucking his head into his shoulders as if regretting that he had to stay and wait for Kevin instead of escaping with the others.

Under the dim glow of streetlights, they made their grand escape, which, frankly, was pathetic. After taking a beating from the Soul Collective, they moved as slow as turtles. Looking at them, nobody would have believed that these four exhausted wrecks had somehow defeated a ghost monster. One of them had to be half-carried; another clutched her stomach as if holding herself together; the last one, even though he’d lost his left arm some time ago, still looked like he was on the verge of collapse.

At least they didn’t run into any trouble on their way to the diner, unless a light drizzle counted. Cold raindrops hit Mioray’s face, reminding him of the sensation when he finally managed to stretch the portal to the realm between realms. It was still hard to believe he had actually done it, let alone understand how.

“And the souls do separate from the Collective, after all,” he murmured. “Maybe that place beyond the portal is really somewhere for them to go. But I wonder what happens after that?”

“They could just be erased there, for all I care,” Farah muttered, overhearing him. She pulled her hand away from her wound, revealing a hole in her puffer coat. Oddly enough, the blood had disappeared. Not because of the rain washing it away, Mioray was sure of that. He glanced down at his own clothes. The bloodstains on his coat were gone too. Did that mean the blood was returning to their bodies?

“How are you feeling?” Mioray asked Farah. He didn’t want to pry into whether she really meant what she had said or if she was just pissed about her ruined clothes.

“Like someone spat inside my soul,” Farah rasped.

On second thought, it was better to leave her alone.

About ten minutes later – a walk that would have taken five under normal circumstances – they arrived at the diner Twenty-Four Moons. The two “O” letters in its logo had moon-like designs. Through the large windows, Mioray could see inside. It wasn’t much different from any other diner: stools lined up along the bar counter, tables with benches placed in front of the windows. The name most likely indicated that it was open day and night.

At the moment, there weren’t many customers inside. Only two, to be exact, and one of them was Erinel. She sat at a table, smiling to herself as if lost in a happy memory. Occasionally, she took a sip from a mug. Probably coffee. A newspaper lay on the table in front of her, and she idly flipped through the pages.

The scene felt oddly out of place. Mioray could almost see himself being pulled into a different time, decades past. He always wondered why news portals still printed physical newspapers when everyone got their news from the internet. Even more baffling was why people still bought and read them. But somehow, it didn’t seem strange when it came to Erinel. She had lived through many eras; perhaps this was just one of her old habits. She had probably picked up the newspaper out of boredom while waiting for them, as there was a stack of the same ones sitting by the bar counter.

None of them rushed inside. Mia let Terry lean against the wall by the entrance and started signing.

“Oh really?” Farah sighed. “Mia says we need to distract the waitress before going in. If she sees us like this, she’s definitely calling the police. The other customer has his back to the entrance, so maybe he won’t notice us. Any suggestions?”

“Let me talk to the waitress,” Terry said, crossing his arms proudly. “She won’t be able to resist my charm and won’t even notice you slipping in.”

“Yeah, you’re the least suitable person for that right now,” Farah replied, eyeing his wreck of a leg. “And it’ll be even worse if she recognizes you. No, you better keep your face hidden.”

This quickly escalated into an argument, with Terry spewing more nonsense. A couple of hours wouldn’t have been enough to end their bickering. Ironically, just standing there by the entrance was already enough to attract the waitress’s attention. Fortunately, she was glued to her phone and hadn’t looked up yet.

“Let me handle it,” Mioray said. “You’re not in any better shape than Terry, Farah.”

He looked at Mia. She placed a hand on her chin, then moved it away, followed by tapping her pinky against the side of her head and away. Mioray couldn’t translate it exactly, but from Mia’s confident expression, he figured she agreed with him.

The plan was set. Mioray entered the diner. The hanging doorbell jingled, announcing his arrival. Erinel looked up from her newspaper. When her hazel eyes locked onto him, his heart skipped a beat. Why am I always like this around her? She wasn’t even human, though she looked like one. Mioray gave her a nervous wave before heading to the bar counter. The waitress put down her phone and waited for him to speak.

“Hi, I want to place an order,” Mioray said.

“Sure, you can take a seat, and I’ll come over to take it,” she replied.

“Actually, I’d rather do it now,” Mioray rubbed his temple in a way that made sure she noticed his empty sleeve. Maybe that would earn him some sympathy? The doorbell rang again, but Mioray positioned himself so the waitress wouldn’t see who had entered.

“Can I have a glass of water, please?” he asked.

“Seriously?” She looked at him from under her brows. “That’s your order?”

“Yeah. Don’t underestimate water. I couldn’t find any open stores, and I’m really thirsty. Did you know that, on average, a person can survive without water for about a week? The human body is made up of around seventy percent water. Oh, and drinking seawater is dangerous because of the salt content. The more you drink, the more salt gets absorbed into your bloodstream. Your kidneys have to use even more water to filter it out, creating a vicious cycle where drinking seawater only makes you thirstier. Fun fact: drinking too much fresh water can actually cause water poisoning. It makes brain cells swell, increasing pressure inside the skull…”

The waitress stared at him in silence. Mioray began to feel uncomfortable but kept up his charade until she finally took a jug and poured him a glass.

“Here’s your water,” she interrupted.

“Thanks,” Mioray took the glass. “Sorry, was that weird?”

“I’ve heard weirder,” she admitted. “Look, I started my shift half an hour ago, and I’m stuck here all night. So, do me a favor and don’t bombard me with random facts, okay? If you just let me do my job, I won’t ask what happened to your friends who look like they’ve been to hell and back.” She gestured toward the others, who were now seated with Erinel. “Honestly, I don’t care either way, but I really don’t want to make small talk. I hate it.”

“Yep, totally understandable,” Mioray nodded. He had no objections to this deal, though he doubted she had actually noticed Farah’s and Terry’s injuries. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” she said. “Tell your friends I’ll be over in a minute to take their orders.”

With nothing left to do, Mioray joined the others at the table. The girls sat on one side, with Erinel by the window, Farah in the middle, and Mia at the edge. Terry sat across from them. Mioray intended to sit next to Terry, but the racer grinned and nudged him toward the seat directly across from Erinel.

Then the waitress came by and took their orders. Like Mioray, the others asked for water, except for Farah, who also ordered a cherry pie.

“You guys are weird,” the waitress muttered but didn’t press for explanations. She walked away to get their drinks.

“What’s with the cherry pie?” Mioray asked, taking a sip of water. It was the first time in a while he had actually consumed something. The last time he had tried to eat, he had immediately thrown up. For some reason, that didn’t apply to water.

"It’s for Erinel, dummy," Farah said. "She said she got hungry, but she can’t place an order herself because the waitress can’t see her."

“That’s right," Erinel crossed her fingers and put her chin on them. "I only recently found out about cherry pies and fell in love with them."

"I love them too," Mioray blurted out without thinking. Everyone looked at him with confusion, except for Terry, who giggled into his knuckle. Mioray felt the panic attack sneaking up on him, so he quickly changed the subject. "If she can’t see you, how did you get the coffee, Erinel?"

"Oh, that was Kevin," she answered. "He asked for it on my behalf before he left for you. What took you so long, and what’s with the wounds?"

"What’s with the wounds? Seriously?" Farah snorted angrily. For once, Mioray understood her frustration, although there was no need to take it out on Erinel. "Better tell me why you and Kevin didn’t come to help as soon as we called you!"

“We stumbled upon some wandering souls and had to guide them to the afterlife.” Erinel took a sip of coffee. “Besides, the presence of the Soul Collective didn’t seem that strong. I was sure there wouldn’t be any trouble with it.”

"Them, not it," Farah corrected her. "There were two of them! Two! And then they merged into a bigger freak!"

“Oh. So that’s what I sensed,” Erinel nodded thoughtfully. “I couldn’t understand why its presence changed, but now I see. I’m sorry, I can’t tell if there’s more than one Soul Collective, only that one is there.”

"How convenient for you."

"But two Soul Collectives at the same time?" Erinel ignored Farah’s provocation. "That hasn’t happened in a long time. I’m glad you were able to take care of them."

Farah looked like she wanted to argue further, but she suddenly changed her mind, reducing herself to grumbling. Mioray’s jaw dropped. Erinel remained composed, even happily clapping when the waitress brought her cherry pie. It seemed like nothing could make her mad, not even Farah’s nagging.

“So, the Soul Collective, huh,” Mioray mused, watching raindrops lazily trail down the window. “Are the souls trapped inside in pain? It definitely sounded like its shrieking was from suffering. It was even affecting us. I felt pain, whether physical or spiritual, I don’t know, but I don’t want to experience it again.”

Mia animatedly signed something in response.

“Mia says she felt it too. But it’s uncharted territory for us. We’ve dealt with a few Soul Collectives, but they were all like the one we saw at the beginning, before it turned into that abomination. Know anything about that, Erinel?”

“There had been… an incident in the past. I didn’t lie to you about souls needing to be guided to the afterlife, because it’s dangerous for them to linger in the world of the living.”

“Well, you could have been more specific,” Farah huffed. “You never told us that Soul Collectives can turn into murderous freaks. I can only imagine what happens if more of them merge together.”

“That mustn’t happen in the first place.” Erinel popped another piece of pie into her mouth. Watching her, one could almost drool. Mioray was beginning to realize what he missed, losing the ability to eat. “We, the greanrips, are the keepers of natural order. Souls lingering in the world of the living disrupt this order, and Soul Collectives violate it the most. That’s why we must guide them to the afterlife. The disruption stops once they move to the realm between realms. Death awaits them there.”

It was the second time Mioray had heard Erinel say that there is death in the realm between realms. But what exactly did she mean? He wanted to ask, but Farah wasn’t done probing.

“So where do we, the living dead, fit into your precious order?” she asked.

“You disturb it too. But don’t worry, I’m trying to weave you into its flow.”

“I agree with Erinel here. At least we’re not hurting anyone,” Terry said, checking his leg. It was hard to believe it would restore itself after some time. Right now, his foot was missing, and the leg itself was twisted into a spiral. “Soul Collectives, on the other hand, don’t ask for consent before absorbing others.”

“And here I thought you had everything figured out,” Mioray whistled. In terms of knowledge, he was definitely behind. The gang had been together for at least seven months. You’d think they knew everything by now. But it wasn’t just about onboarding new members. They had their own gaps when it came to spiritual beings and their nature. “I didn’t expect Soul Collectives to feed on the living and suck out their souls. Doesn’t that make us vulnerable too, especially since our souls exist outside our bodies?”

Erinel rested her cheek in her hand and gazed out the window.

“I’d guess it does,” she said thoughtfully. “But I doubt any of you would volunteer to find out.”

“Well, of course not!” Mioray placed his hand on the table. “I’m relieved to know you haven’t sacrificed anyone for that purpose before I joined. But knowing it’s possible won’t hurt. If we run into another Soul Collective, we’ll be more cautious. I don’t think it was a coincidence that one was waiting for us in the abandoned house while another lured us into a trap.”

“This is unheard of,” Erinel pointed her fork at Mioray. “Soul Collectives don’t cooperate. They’re mindless, unconscious entities, with suffering souls trapped inside.”

Mioray wasn’t so sure. When they fought the Soul Collective, he noticed it was constantly evolving, though it was easy to overlook. Was Erinel withholding something? Or was it possible she didn’t know everything, despite her years of dealing with the dead, even before Mioray was born?

“It’s scary to think what cemeteries must look like, filled with all those souls,” he murmured.

Mia chuckled silently.

“Contrary to popular belief, souls rarely linger in cemeteries,” Farah translated Mia’s hand signs, though with little enthusiasm. “You could even say they’re safer than anywhere else. The dead usually stay where they perished or in places that were important to them in life.”

Mioray recalled meeting Andrew in the tunnel, sitting beside his unfinished graffiti. The souls of the dead retained their memories and consciousness. Why would they stay in a cemetery if it meant nothing to them? Some might find peace there, but most had no reason to be there. The majority would seek to finish their business, rejecting the idea that they were dead and no longer had an impact on the world.

If Mioray died and turned into a soul without a body, he’d regret getting angry at his parents during their last interaction. He’d try to go back and make amends, even though they wouldn’t see or hear him. It would only bring more sorrow. He’d be there with them, but they wouldn’t know it, devastated at the news of his death. They wouldn’t realize that he was just a stupid, spoiled brat who wanted to apologize and admit he was wrong.

Perhaps that was exactly why some souls choose to stay in cemeteries. An egotistical act, but one that hurt less, knowing there was nothing they could do anyway.

Mioray’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing again. Everyone turned to see Kevin and Matt entering. They approached the table, but before they could sit down, Farah lunged at Kevin.

“Well? Did you find our stuff?” she demanded.

"I had to paralyze the cops, thanks for asking," Kevin replied smugly. "They won’t know what happened to them, so there’s nothing to worry about."

“Sure, whatever, good job. Now, what about our stuff?”

Kevin gave Farah a stern look, but she didn’t flinch. Eventually, he relented and pulled two phones from his inner pocket. Farah snatched hers impatiently and let out a bitter exclamation.

"The screen is shattered!” She grabbed her head, forgetting about her wound. “How am I supposed to walk around with a phone like this? And yours, Mioray, not a single scratch! That’s so unfair!"

Mioray took his phone, turned it on, and confirmed it was intact and working flawlessly. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Farah but didn’t dare show it. God forbid she’d snatch his phone and smash it right there just to even the score.

"That’s it," Farah knocked on the table with her broken phone. "I won’t tolerate this anymore. I’ve lost everything because of this damn circus act. You," she pointed a finger at Terry, "I demand compensation. Tomorrow, we’re going to the store to buy me new clothes and a new phone."

"Of course, babydoll, that’s music to my ears," Terry said with a smirk, almost relieved. "Just don’t get too worked up, or your wound might start bleeding again."

Farah’s green eyes flashed as if she was about to freeze Terry on the spot.

"Is everything okay?" the waitress approached them at just the right moment, rescuing Terry.

"Everything's fine," Kevin reassured her, pulling up a chair from the bar and sitting with the others. "Can I get a glass of water?"

"Are you guys from some kind of cult?" the waitress asked suspiciously. The question was rhetorical – her attention quickly shifted to Matt. “And what about you, sunshine?”

“Do you have lollipops here?” the boy asked.

“I’m afraid not,” the waitress pouted. “But tell you what, I keep some candies in my purse for my son, and there are more than he can eat. Would you like some?”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Matt agreed enthusiastically. So much for not accepting sweets from strangers. When she returned with Kevin’s water and a handful of candies for Matt, the boy eagerly unwrapped them all at once and stuffed them into his mouth. He immediately started choking, and Terry had to pat his back to help clear his airway.

Mioray decided not to mention that it was the wrong way to handle choking. A grim thought crossed his mind. Was this how Matt had originally died?

“It’s a shame I can’t drink beer anymore,” Terry sighed afterward, swirling the glass of water in his hand. “You’re lucky, Matt, you know that?”

“Why?”

“Because you can still enjoy things like sweets, little guy,” Terry said, ruffling Matt’s hair.

The conversation gradually drifted in different directions. Mioray couldn’t help but notice how agile Mia had been during the fight with the Soul Collective. With Matt’s help translating her signs, she explained that she had been an athlete in her school days, competing in track and field. In adulthood, she continued her morning runs, and even after death, she kept up the habit. She invited Mioray to join her someday, and he replied that he’d think about it.

Meanwhile, Terry tried to get everyone to name their abilities with specific move names, arguing it would improve coordination.

“Like, when opening a portal, just yell something like, ‘Interdimensional Door!’ and everyone will know what you’re doing,” he said.

“That’s the same length as saying, ‘Opening the portal’,” Kevin pointed out.

“It’s just an example,” Terry waved dismissively. “But what if Matt wants to trap someone? How would we know? If he shouts ‘Sticky Patch!’ in advance, we’ll be ready, and outsiders will be confused. That’s what I’m talking about.” He furrowed his brows. “Hmm, but naming moves might be tricky for Mia… I’ll have to think about that one.”

At some point, Erinel asked for another piece of cherry pie, and Farah, sighing, ordered it for her again. The greanrip mostly stayed quiet, content just listening. Mioray, too, fell into silence, watching her.

He liked how the violet shade in her black hair shifted every time she moved her head. The way she savored the pie was oddly mesmerizing – cutting small pieces with her fork, the soft clink of metal against porcelain, and the almost imperceptible chewing, as if she were trying to be discreet in her enjoyment. Mioray found it endearingly cute.

“By the way, Erinel, I keep forgetting to tell you,” he said when she finished. “Last night, when I got home, I ran into the police detectives, the ones from the hospital. They have a theory that the Dismantler and Impact Corpse are the same person.”

“Interesting,” Erinel placed her fork down. “They’re more capable than we thought. Kevin and I came to the same conclusion.”

“Oh.”

Confused, Mioray looked at Kevin. Kevin checked his watch, then started cleaning under his fingernails, though they were already spotless. He did it with such intensity that it seemed like he was about to rip them out.

If they had already come to this conclusion, why had they kept it from him? After all, it directly concerned him. The Dismantler had killed him, and Impact Corpse had hunted him. If they were the same person, that meant his murderer had discovered he was still alive and was now trying to finish what he started.

Mioray turned back to Erinel, who had picked up the newspaper again. If they were withholding information from him, could he really trust them? Then again, it wasn’t like she had lied. On the contrary, he had shared something with her, and she had given him something in return. If she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have even suspected she was hiding anything. The more he tried to make sense of it, the more confused he became.

“Here, Mioray, look,” Erinel flipped the newspaper toward him. "Tell me, what do you know about this?"

She spoke as if the Dismantler and Impact Corpse were an afterthought, just a minor inconvenience. Keeping his frustration in check, Mioray shifted his focus to the article she pointed to. Beneath the title was a large image of a knife.

Its handle was crafted in the shape of a twisting silver snake, and its blade was made of black crystal. Morion, a smoky quartz. The article mentioned that the knife was set to be showcased at the city museum during a charity event hosted by Lady Anetta’s Foundation.

"It's the Cursed Blade of Avalon," Mioray said. Naturally, he knew about it. "According to myth, the most terrible evil is sealed within it. the soul of Avalon himself. He's the demon who killed Holy Mirabelle, the patron of humanity, who was also believed to be the mother of mankind. Her death plunged the world into chaos.

"As for the blade, it symbolizes the end of the Dark War in the second half of the eighth century. There are also ridiculous rumors that if anyone so much as touches it with their bare hands, they'll be instantly possessed by Avalon."

He stopped, waiting to gauge Erinel’s reaction. He hadn’t studied history for nothing. He could tell her countless myths, legends, and real historical events surrounding human culture–

"I want to obtain it," Erinel said calmly. "Will you help me?"

Mioray stared at her, speechless. He must have misheard. There was no way Erinel had just said what he thought she had.

"I want to find out how true those rumors are," she added.

The room fell silent. The others had been listening, and judging by their expressions, they were just as surprised as he was. It seemed this was the first time any of them had heard about Erinel wanting the Cursed Blade.

Except for Kevin.

"If you're unsure, you can refuse," Kevin said from the far end of the table. "I've already told Erinel that Mia and I will be enough."

"I agree," Mioray blurted out, a little too quickly. He shot Kevin a defiant glance. Why did Erinel always rely on this smug lawyer? Well, it was obvious why. As unpleasant as Kevin was, Mioray had to admit he carried himself with a certain confidence, a quiet reliability. But Mioray wanted to prove he could be relied on too. He had already proven himself today, helping take down the Soul Collective, but Erinel hadn’t been there to see it. Neither had Kevin. Mioray wouldn’t mind rubbing it in Kevin’s face.

"Well, then it's settled," Erinel clapped her hands together. "Soon, we'll have to – how is it you humans say? – pull off a heist at the museum."