Lost Rain
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Myth//OS - Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 21:55:10 +0000 UTCThe wall felt so stable under my hands. A comforting warmth started in my chest and slowly spread out into the rest of me. A mechanical chime, seemingly the source of the warmth, echoed in my head once more.
[Aylin Io
Innate Trait: [Dream Stride]
Skills: 0/7]
The warmth pushed back the miasma fully, freeing my body from the cutting contamination. The OS’s protection kicked in. The smothering fog in my head slightly dissipated, as did the sensation of countless wires digging into my skin. I could still feel it somewhat if I focused, but it was ignorable at this level.
I shook my head, trying to free myself from the heavy fog. Was I- was I chosen? Awakened? That's what this was, right? Nothing else would make much sense. Why now? Was it because I entered a rift?
I summoned up my status once more. It even had my last name. I hadn't said it aloud in a long time, so how'd it know? Was it really omniscient? Or... hmm... maybe it had records from back home? No- actually, it probably just read my mind, right?
Whatever, I could check the rest of it out later when I wasn’t in the middle of a rift with a potentially dying girl strapped to my back. I had more pressing concerns at the moment. Besides, the Innate Trait didn’t seem like it’d be particularly useful in this situation when I glanced through it.
The most important thing was that the system protected me from the miasma of this workshop. It wouldn’t twist and pull at me anymore, though its damage had already been done. I could feel my control slipping even now.
I didn’t need a mirror to tell that my eyes probably had a feral glint deep within them. I could feel it, my stomach churning angrily in hunger. And yet, I stubbornly refused to give in. I still clung to my sanity, albeit barely. I learned several times throughout the past: having a goal to focus on helped.
I glanced over my shoulder back toward the hall leading out to the toy workshop. I didn’t even remember walking up here. The door practically screamed ‘boss room’ though. I turned the dagger in my leg into a bandage with a though and pushed open the door.
The other side of the door seemed to be the main workstation of the entire place. Machines and conveyor belts brought parts in from all over the toy workshop, dropping into large piles scattered around. Like the rest of the shop, this place had webs and strands all over it.
A figure, looking mostly humanoid, stood hunched over a table. He carefully assembled a teddy bear, sewing its claws on. The man froze, his head unnaturally glancing over his shoulder toward me. The person’s face was lost in a deep, shadowy hood. From the depths of the hood, two glowing red eyes seemed to stare into my very soul.
He turned around fully, exposing a work tunic coated in blood and grease. Tools strapped to a work belt dangled freely, their tips covered in fluids. I stared back at the figure for a moment in confusion.
He wasn't alive. I wasn't reacting to him, so that much was obvious. Another construct? Was there a construct making constructs? Was the master of this workshop not the boss? What was this? Something felt off, though. He wasn't alive, and yet I also didn’t get the familiar vibe of an undead. It was just…
I shifted my gaze around the grand room again. There, settled on the table, sat a toy. A doll. It was small and frail-looking. It was also the only other toy I’d seen aside from the stuffed animals. Webs clung to it in the dim light of a flickering gas lamp.
Hmm… I pretended I didn’t see anything, pointing my sword toward the man in the work tunic. I had the advantage at the moment. It wouldn't be wise to throw it away so easily.
”Ha, ha, ha!” A chilling laughter came from the cloaked man. The laughter was slow and halting, like a pale imitation of what was once warm. He drew a handful of sewing needles and a large mallet from his tool belt.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot and darted across the space separating us-
I pulled back just as the man’s arm flicked forward, reading his attack well before he made it. A handful of needles shot out toward me, their tips wrapped in ether.
I batted a few of them out of midair, letting one or two harmlessly cut through my clothes and vanish into the wall behind me. While the man reached for more needles, I closed and slashed at him with a simple, testing swing.
The man brought the mallet at me, intent on sacrificing his own body to inflict a deadly blow on my side-
I pulled into a feint, back dodging the mallet before following up with a different strike. It was intentionally off, though, allowing the man to block it and force me back. Back into a different angle.
I moved, feinting and striking to hide my micro-adjustments of the battlefield. With every move, I repositioned further and further around the heavy toymaker. Every once in a while, I’d get a good hit in, but the man didn’t even react to it before continuing his onslaught. If anything, it just proved my theory.
I checked my distance and then lunged forward for one last strike. The man easily blocked it, grabbing onto my sword with his bare hand. The blade bit deep. He pulled the sword forward and brought the mallet around-
I dropped the blade, pulling what was left of my Ebonshroud forth as I twirled around. By the time I turned fully into a quick slash, the dark ooze elongated and hardened into a dagger. My target? The Marionette I’d been ‘naturally’ repositioning to the entire time.
It finally moved to flee-
My dagger slammed into its forehead, pinning it down onto the table. I grabbed its legs with my other hand and ripped the rest of its body clean off. The man collapsed mid-motion behind me as the strings keeping him strung up dropped.
"Heugh..." The Marionette's head made one last twisted laugh. It’s eyes held anger, though also some kind of deep sadness? It didn’t matter. It was dead now.
I sighed, pulling the dagger from its head watched my surroundings just in case. That was it, though. Feeble wasn’t the lowest for no reason. Outside of a gimmick? Not that much danger. If I'd fallen for the gimmick, though, exhausting myself on the puppeted man? I'd likely run out of stamina and be easy pickings.
A rush of ether surged from the dead marionette and a mechanical chime came once more, though this time from the air itself instead of inside my head.
[Code: RC-1]
[Rift: Closing - 14:59]
The ether throughout the entire rift seemed to surge and converge toward me. It was so bright and prevalent that it created a blind spot for several moments. In that time, an item formed seemingly out of thin air.
It was a silver string that glowed internally with ether. It floated there for a moment in mid air. Was this- was this the formation of rift loot? I’d heard about it, of course, but actually seeing its form in person… cool. I’d probably appreciate it even more if I wasn’t so out of it.
I stretched out a tired hand and grabbed the thread.
[Will Wire]
[And so it cried out, “Oh, my dear Creator, suffer as I have. Know my pain.”]
[Bind?]
The Will Wire blinked out of existence. The ether that kept it floating, as if confused without somewhere to go, surged back outward and started to fade away. A small portion of the ether condensed and filled me with warmth.
[Skill - Basic Ether Sword]
[Accept?]
”Yep?”
[Aylin Io
Innate Trait: [Dream Stride]
Skills: [Basic Ether Sword] [1/7]
Bound: [Will Wire]]
Not too shabby… The shortsword in my hand turned back to Ebonshroud and sank into my skin. I leaned on the table of the workshop with weak legs. I was about to fall over. The kid was starting to weigh more and more as time passed.
I had fifteen minutes to get out of here… I moved for the stairs, intent on getting back to Bastion before I fell over. The path out was already cleared. If it hadn’t… I didn’t know if I even had it in me to keep fighting. I’d find a way, as I always did, but at what cost?
I paused just outside the door that led back to the rift, freezing as I cut my tongue on my teeth accidentally. The wound quickly healed just like the one on my leg not too long ago.
Would I- would I be okay going back like this, though? If I was already to the stage of healing fast… the miasma did a number on me. Much more than I thought. Being around people on top of that? It was fine here in seclusion, but…
I squeezed my eyes shut and headed for the rift. It wouldn’t be the first time I had to suppress that side of me. I’d just have to do it again.
— — —
Pursius lightly swiped his paw, sending a bunch of documents to the far side of the table with his telekinesis. Although he didn’t show it on his stoic face, the Miix was… unsettled. He had a bad feeling that made his fur rise. It started about thirty minutes ago, and only grew worse with each document he tossed to the side.
He took a deep breath, calming himself down. Why was it hitting him? Miix had strong instincts. It’s how they survived against the monster back on their home world when no other species did, and eventually resettled here in Bastion. Doubting them would be a bad idea.
Pursius’s tail drooped and he glanced out at the club still being cleaned up from the night's festivities. Tlacauli just shut down, finally turning off those annoying lights. He watched his workers moving around busily, cheerfully chatting after another night of hard work. He hadn’t built this place up by ignoring his instincts.
Hmm… Ayli- Nyx should’ve been back by now. Pursius had access to a lot of information, as fit his job as a Fixer, so he was quite capable of keeping up with the ongoings of Aegis. The heist was well over. And knowing her, there’s no way she wouldn’t immediately come get her pay.
Normally, he wouldn’t care if a Stray showed up or not as long as they did their job. Nyx was… special to him, though. She was quite literally the only creature in all of Bastion that could speak the Miix tongue, among other reasons. He hesitated for a moment longer before making a decision.
Was she... okay? Usually, he wouldn't worry about her. She was more than capable of taking care of herself outside of tech and cooking. It was about that time again, though. Should he have given it to her before she went out? They should've had more time though, right? And yet his strong instincts sat on a razor's edge.
A report came in that a rift opened not that far away from here. Chances were low, but if she was caught in it? Besides, instinct never lied… at least not the Miix instinct.
“Francis!” He called out in common, using his telekinesis to grab a collar carelessly thrown to the other side of the room. He moved for the door, then paused and grabbed a slightly glowing bottle from a hidden safe. Golden water sloshed lightly within,
“Sir?” His loyal bodyguard opened the door.
Pursius strapped the collar around his neck and spoke, his voice automatically being translated to common. ”Bring the car around. Head for Axo’s Lot. Oh, and get me a coffee.”
”Right away, sir.”
— — —
I shakily held my coffee cup, which had long went cold, and sat in a rain-drenched alley. The kid- I’d dropped her off with her mother and left before I could get caught in anything troublesome. She should be fine. Probably. I could hear the sirens loudly blaring, so rescue probably came, right? CDF transports passed by the alley not that long ago.
I sipped the freezing coffee, ignoring the pangs in my teeth and the scents plaguing my nose. I curled up inside my hoodie and held my knees. Crowds gathered out on the street, drawn by the closing rift. Each and every single one of them filled the air with chatter and life.
I forced myself to look away and took another sip of coffee. Ha- the bitterness stung pleasantly when I breathed deeply through my mouth. I accidentally bit my lip, causing black blood to well up from the wound. It wasn’t just my canines that were sharp now. The wound healed almost as quickly as it appeared.
Just ignore it all. Breath, and once I started feeling better, I’d head back-
Crunching from the mouth of the alley drew my gaze up. A group of orcs approached me, flashlights momentarily blinding my eyes when they flared down the dark alley. An addictive scent hit me. My teeth ached even worse. I summoned another dagger and slammed it down.
My eyes adapted slowly to the light. I took in the forms of the people approaching me. The center one held a black cat in one arm, and an umbrella in the other. A familiar black cat. I recoiled slightly, shaking my head. My eyes dropped down to the filthy alley floor slowly being soaked with blood. I didn’t want him to see me like this again.
I barely held back a snarl when one of the orcs moved to approach. Thankfully, he backed away at a motion from the cat. Good ole' Pursius. I could always trust him. “Nyx… looking worse for wear.”
”H-hey. Pursius.” I forced myself to sit still and hug my knees tighter. Not like I could move much in this state, regardless. Warm liquid soaked into my sleeves, replacing the rain.
He turned off the translating collar he’d had on, speaking in his native language. ”You’re trembling quite fiercely… should’ve had a few weeks before it progressed to this stage?”
Right… going into the rift was stupid of me in the first place. I hope my symptoms resurging quicker than usual didn’t mess with Pursius too much. He wouldn't- he wouldn't hate me for making him come out in the middle of the night, yep? Yep? Please?
I looked down at myself. I hadn’t realized it, but my entire body was shaking like a drug addict on severe withdrawals. I thought I was holding up rather well… maybe I wasn't. What a pitiful sight. I shouldn't be showing this to the cat. I was supposed to be the strong, capable Stray, after all.
My skin, through the gaps in my clothes, looked unnaturally pale, almost translucent. Or, they would if they weren't running with dark fluid. “R-rift.”
“Hmm…” A bottle floated over to me, filled with a golden liquid.
Dew. A precious liquid sold by Cathedral for two thousand Nytes, and used to dispel curses and heal minor injuries. Considering most basic med-patches were around a hundred Nytes, people wouldn’t buy Dew without extenuating circumstances. It was unfortunately quite rare with low demand.
”...!” A wave of happiness washed through me. Right, he didn't hate me. He cared enough to come fetch me, right? Oh no, I made him come out in the rain! I wanted to apologize again, but the words caught in my throat as they always did.
The Miix sniffed, his gaze snapping back to the mouth of the alley like he couldn't bear to look at my disgusting state. “Hurry up. It’s cold out here.”
I grabbed the bottle, feeling the warm liquid within. Just holding it burned even through the glass. I hesitated for a moment before ripping off my mask and tossing it to the side. The scents hit me all the more and a nearly overwhelming surge of bloodlust struck me. Another dagger appeared, though in a shadow where he couldn’t see it.
”Your eyes- no, never mind.” He cut himself off, his hair rising slightly. Francis and the crew backed away a few steps like they were looking at a monster. They weren’t entirely wrong.
My eyes… right, how disgraceful to show them. The filthy, cursed purple would make anyone uncomfortable. I wanted to apologize again-
“Drink quickly.” His amber eyes tracked my every motion. The cat shifted back to common and he spoke to his guards. “Secure the perimeter.”
Right… probably didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Couldn’t have it known that one of his Strays was a monster in human skin. The guards hurriedly split off like Lord Death himself was after them. They left just me, Francis, and Pursius in this section of the alley.
I gripped my fist hard enough to bleed and carefully brought the Dew to my lips. Even breathing in the scent of it burned my nose, though that helped sharpen my mind even more. I pretended it was coffee and gulped it down.
I could feel it trail down my throat, the scorching liquid dribbling down against my tongue. A gag broke out, immedietly followed by the insane laughter telling me to spit it out. My insides burned, raging like an inferno like I was melting from within. My breathing came in sharp and rapid. I suppressed a groan as the melting sensation spread to my entire body.
The hunger and predatory instincts melted away, suppressed by the Dew once more. My teeth shrank back to normal, and my skin slowly took on a healthy hue. I hated this. I didn’t have to deal with it thanks to my armor back then, but… fuck, this sucked.
“Th-thanks.” I spoke through the burning across my throat. My voice came out even more broken and distorted than usual.
”Take a minute.” He ordered in his soft, melodic voice.
”…” I nodded my head, not trusting my voice anymore. I pulled my legs even tighter to my body like I was literally holding myself together. The instinctual urges were slowly melting away, as were my internal organs.
”I’ll be waiting at the mouth of the alley when you’re ready. Don’t make me wait too long.” The ‘or I’ll leave you' was implied. He tapped Francis with his paw and nodded away.
I watched them leave, gulping back a mouthful of blood. Brought back memories from the first time we met. That’d been over a year ago, yep? And yet, it felt like barely any time passed. It was barely even a fraction of my life... granted, memories from before Bastion were faint and foggy.
Once they were away, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I turned to the side, puking up dark blood while the Dew ravaged my insides. For as much damage as was being dealt, I healed just as quickly. The knives that'd been staked into my legs were forced out, dropping to the alley floor. I barely remember to recall the Ebonshroud.
I sat there for more than just a minute. Once I was back in a decent shape, I cleaned up, put my mask back on, and headed for the mouth of the alley. His limo was still there, waiting for me. It brought a smile to my face when I approached. Right, he didn’t hate me. It was all in my head.
Comments
UnderwhelmingBird
Unholy fuck, wow. Wow. Oh goodness that's a whole mess. And she's a whole mess, too.
Lost Rain
I think it’s stupid too. You’d be surprised how many people were triggered and either sent me ranty PMs or directly commented on the chapter. I’d rather just not deal with it.
Mark Robert Mitchell
“ I got a lot of hate for not explicitly saying that there is Sensitive Content, Profanity, and Graphic Violence”. I mean I guess it’s common enough to do online but most*!written works such as book never had those. People either read it and found something that they liked or didn’t. One learns less about themselves and the world if they try to hid from things that offend them. (Also profanity? Kids shouldn’t be unattended on the internet anyway. I promise you the average kid hears worse at school.)
Almost Famous
Liking the new story! :)
Alexander Belousov
Fun story. I am enjoying it so far.
