Chapter 37: Mental Forge

Mateo gave her response a melancholy nod, motioning for his men to help them up as he went to distribute his parting orders to meet them at the hospital and set up an area for them to have in private; she could tell the man was growing to respect and reevaluate her potential threat level more and more with each interaction.

She waved at Scarlet with a grin as the men helped them up to take one of the seats, handing them big headsets; the soldier hesitated upon seeing her left-tilting ears and smiled, unsure if she had human ears to use them, which she did not. Still, she accepted them, holding the microphone to her mouth.

"I can manage my hearing just fine, thank you. Oh, Scarlet!"

"W-What?" she asked, trying to find a comfortable way of wearing the headpiece with her pointed ears. "Do you need to go after this? I, umm...I get it."

"Huh?" Rachel grinned and lightly slugged the girl on the arm as they sat next to each other, soldiers buckling them in. "Where did you get that silly idea? I told you I wouldn’t abandon you, and I’m not planning on it."

It wasn’t a lie; she hadn’t planned on it thus far.

Relief melted the tension away from Scarlet’s face as she smiled and nodded, speaking through the device. "Thank you, Rachel... I honestly don’t know what to do anymore. I’m so lost."

In other words, Rachel internally sighed, I’m the only thing providing you a way forward because no one else is crazy enough to take a chance on you. She really has been screwed over by everything she’d known and left to go insane... What horrible parents.

"Of course! Oh, Roy, can you secure that suitcase? Scarlet needs to find something to wear when we land, too."

"Me? I, uh...are you sure? I don’t want to take all your clothes... I just feel so helpless," she cried, making Rachel snicker.

"C’mon, Scarlet! I’m not going to let you meet some military big-shot in your nightwear—well, my nightwear! Haha!"

"Hehe. I guess I should wear something...a bit more decent," she mused, plucking at the shorts and slightly baggy t-shirt she’d stolen; the girl was a fair bit smaller than her, which had required her to tighten the shorts to the extreme.

Thankful to have the family she did—as imperfect as it might be with Alexa in the picture—Rachel looked forward to hugging her parents when they met again. She had no clue what was going to happen with Scarlet, but Rachel had this unusual gut-tightening feeling she needed to keep this unstable, traumatized bloodsucker attached to her leg; if she let Scarlet go on her own, something terrible would happen.

The helicopter lurched as it took to the air, soldiers waving them off. They swung east in the dying light of twilight, moving over the ocean and giving them a full view of Miami and the surrounding cities.

Silence took them, excluding the two pilots, and Rachel’s wide field of view, fully in focus, allowed her to see things with new eyes from the vantage point, helping to distract her mind from her sore muscles and patched-up cuts.

A few fires were being managed by the military and local infrastructure from who knew what cause, making her realize how little she actually knew. When in her little bubble at the university, she’d had time to scope everything out and identify the key players, but now, seeing the scope of the world, she saw how vulnerable she was.

I have a lot of little bits of information from the local military and pieces regarding the Crystals... The bigger stage is what I have to leverage my way into in this short window if I’m going to have control over my life in this new world structure. Mom, Dad...everyone could be affected by this meeting.

Scarlet squeezed her hand, drawing her gaze; the girl gave her a weak, fanged smile and let go, which was significant, telling her that she was doing better. Relief may have come to the reaper girl, but for Rachel, the walls were closing in, and the pressure was mounting against her chest.

"I’m going to meditate, Scarlet, Mateo. I need to get more answers regarding this System before we arrive."

The military man shot a wry smirk her way, seemingly relaxing a bit more now that they were in the air, yet the Green Berets still scanned the shore and waters for potential attacks.

"A bit young for a wheelchair, but I’ll call one for your old legs; just don’t freak out when you’re in a new place."

Scarlet giggled, and Rachel followed it with a nod; relaxing as best she could, she sat back, closed her eyes, and receded into her mind.

Entering the white mental space, Rachel didn’t have the patience to stand still, walking the edges while experimenting with the creative aspect of the place. Thinking on the inner realm, she was reminded of her grandfather’s meditation lessons on the Taoist concepts of Neidan and Waidan, or internal and external alchemy.

Less interested in the fantastical worlds she could create or the luxury accommodations, such as the college kids she’d listened to seemed to be into, she promptly got to work; it was weird to Rachel that people actually wanted to live in this place forever. She saw this space as only a tool to be used, and she didn’t get the appeal of being trapped in some delusion of reality; people needed to touch grass.

She came to the conclusion that, in a way, this internal world was similar to the discussions she’d had with her grandfather on Neidan and cultivating one’s spirit, yet far more visceral; it was the perfect combat simulator, like an advanced form of shadow boxing.

Playing with her imagination, she summoned multiple copies of her Muay Thai trainer, Tyreese, from various years in her memory. Analytical mind setting them to face each other, she studied each version of the Jamaican man fighting to the death against one another. The results were...fascinating, and gave her plenty of data to parse through.

Her perception of him didn’t really change the results since, as a little teenage girl, he’d been a giant, terrifying man, yet he grew less intimidating each year she’d trained with him.

Still, the early, invincible image she had of him was generally beaten by the more experienced versions of her trainer as he grew year by year, showing there was something deeper at work unrelated to her personal views.

Whatever this place was, it accurately depicted someone’s abilities, which was a massive identification to make early on. She summoned a floss pick for something to play with something in her mouth, easing her tension despite obviously not needing it in the mental space, musing on how fascinating it was to see habits carried over.

Next, she threw up the hobgoblin—without his blade—having him fight Tyreese, her, and many other martial artists she’d met throughout the years; in every instance, when not taking into account the environment or the moon, she and everyone else lost—handily.

"Misfortune..." she whispered, glaring at the extremely physically powerful hobgoblin at his peak when not blinded by pride going toe to toe with her fully lunar-charged clone, observing her form and technique.

The creature’s armor certainly did help him, and his earrings made it impossible since it could swiftly snowball with the slightest momentum gained; of course, all of this was without a weapon, and Zoe’s earlier comment about something to further enhance her combat potential made her ears twitch.

How far could she actually push this fight simulation, though? She finished with the hobgoblin and went to the meat of what she truly wanted to know, knowing it would put a bitter taste in her mouth.

Arms crossed with gut and eyes tightening, Rachel placed both the white and blue moons she’d experienced in Anthony’s quest overhead, clearing the stage and setting the environment to the dark, misty woods; her clone looked across the field at her opponent: the grinning vespertine reaper, taken from the moment she’d went to kill the toads.

Her fingers dug into her sides as the girl giggled, madness in her crimson eyes; she vanished in shadows to appear above her—in shock at the tactic and lack of hesitation, Rachel watched her bloody, crystal scythe liquify to spread as an umbrella and engage her lunar clone.

Mouth a line, she paused the scene, walking around whatever this was because it was not Scarlet; this was someone, likely whatever became of Veronica, using her abilities to their fullest and without a shred of moral restriction. She mirrored her fighting style to trade blows with Rachel as the liquid curtain rained crystal needles—it was over in less than ten seconds—white and red roses growing out of her veins.

She instantly identified my weaknesses and blocked my view of the moon while remaining on the offensive; Scarlet is far more adaptable than she looks if she has the mind to do it... She is the strongest opponent I can face right now; not even those insanely powerful and trained aliens stood a chance. Well...