Hill bit down harder, ignoring the searing pain radiating through his jaw, ignoring the sickening grind of his own teeth as they crunched through skin that felt like an icy metal. His primal fury, born from the conflicting emotions within him, caused him to push through the pain like an unconscious monster.
The ghost shrieked, a combination of high and low frequencies that sounded like a choir from hell. It thrashed beneath him, its one good arm being put to good use as it repeatedly slammed its palm into the side of Hill's head.
However, due to the grip Hill had on the ghost's throat combined with his hands being frozen solid against the ghost's skin, these robust palms only caused Hill's head to jerk backward by mere inches, causing the skin on its neck to be ripped apart by Hill's teeth.
Hill didn't relent. His jaw felt numb and nonexistent, causing him to shove his head against the ghost's heavily damaged neck. He tasted ichor, the icy liquid nearly freezing his head as he was forced to swallow.
The pain of his insides being conquered by such extreme cold was offset by his adrenaline and primal madness.
The cracks spreading across the ghost's form, beginning from the neck, started widening rapidly, unstable light flaring from within. Its struggles weakened, the chilling aura pulsed erratically, and the despair it radiated became thin and frantic. With a final, savage tear, Hill ripped through the last connecting structure.
There was a sound like a thousand panes of ice shattering physically and psychically at once. The ghost's head came loose in his mouth with an explosion of ichor – nearly drowning him. The spectral body beneath him convulsed violently one last time and then dissolved into a blinding flash of cold white light before imploding.
The implosion threw Hill backward, sending him skidding across the asphalt. He spat out fragments of spectral ice, broken teeth, and ichor. The oppressive darkness of the bridge seemed to press in, the silence absolute now, broken only by his ragged breathing and the chattering of his remaining teeth.
He lay there for a long moment, every inch of his body screaming in agony. His arm was stiff and burned by frost, his face was lacerated, his jaw throbbed, his ribs were definitely broken, and the chilling cold had seeped deep into his bones.
But the ghost was gone. He had survived. He had destroyed the manifestation.
Yes! Finally!
Yet, as the adrenaline faded, replaced by waves of pain and exhaustion, a different chill settled over him. It wasn't the physical cold of the ghost. It was more profound and wrong as if someone was watching him.
Before he could fully process the feeling or even the relief of survival, the faint light radiating from his body intensified.
It pulsed gently, and in the darkness directly before his eyes, shimmering motes of energy began to gather. They swirled and coalesced, forming intricate, foreign symbols that glowed with soft, internal luminescence. They looked ancient, mystical, utterly alien.
What is this? Some sort of language? I don't think I've seen it before...
As he watched, stunned, the glowing symbols shifted and flowed like liquid light, rearranging themselves. The alien script morphed, simplifying, reforming into characters he could understand, written in the common tongue of the World Government, hanging suspended in the air before him.
[Manifestation Defeated: Ghost of an Uncertain Future]
[Human Hillel has survived the storm.]
[Bridge crossing established.]
[Transit to Igashia Initiated...]
The last word hung in the air momentarily before the light flared, engulfing him completely. The sensation of falling returned, but this time, it wasn't into an abyss of pain. It was a feeling of being pulled, stretched, and then violently compressed. The darkness that was surrounding him vanished, replaced by a blinding light from above that seemed to suck him in.
----
With a gasp, Hill's eyes snapped open. The blinding light was gone, replaced by the familiar glow of the padded cell. He was lying on the floor, the soft grey padding cushioning him. He instinctively braced for the wave of agony – the broken ribs, the shattered jaw, the freezing burn – but... there was nothing.
His body felt strangely unharmed. The phantom memory of the pain lingered, and profound exhaustion weighed down his body and mind, but the physical damage hadn't carried over from the bridge.
A figure stood over him, blocking the light. Hill flinched, trying to scramble back, his muscles responding sluggishly, not from injury but sheer mental fatigue. He looked up and froze. It was Jian.
And Jian was still covered in blood and gore. Dark spatters stained his simple clothes and face, stark against his pale skin. He stared down at Hill with a murderous expression on his face.
Then, Jian blinked. The look vanished, replaced instantly by wide-eyed shock, then dawning relief. A complex mix of emotions flickered across his blood-streaked face.
"You're... conscious?" Jian breathed, kneeling beside Hill, his voice laced with disbelief. He reached out, then stopped, perhaps wary of his own state or Hill's apparent fragility. "Incredible. You actually... hah! You're awakened!"
"I'm awakened?" Hill rasped, his throat feeling dry but not raw.
"Yes, you've weathered the storm," Jian confirmed, his eyes darting towards the empty space behind Hill as if expecting the portal to still be there. "I didn't expect it from someone who seemed so weak... obviously, I was wrong." He shook his head, a flicker of grimness returning despite the relief. "You're the first one today. The only one so far."
Hill processed this numbly. All that blood and gore... came from the other conscripts? The thought sent a wave of dizziness through him, unrelated to any physical injury.
Jian leaned closer, his expression urgent again. "Listen, kid, there's no time. The transit isn't complete. The bridge just stabilizes the connection and confirms your awakening. You only have moments here before you're pulled fully into Igashia – the New World."
Hill's eyes widened in alarm. "Pulled back? But I just got here! How do I—"
"You don't stop it," Jian interrupted firmly. "You have to go. But you need to be ready. Igashia... Kael wasn't exaggerating when he said that it was hell. That place is a horror beyond anything you can imagine right now." He looked Hill dead in the eyes. "Whatever happens when you arrive, whatever you face, steel your mind above all else. Your will is your only true weapon there, especially at the start. Understand?"
Overwhelmed by the temporal whiplash and the impending unknown, Hill could only manage a shaky nod.
"Good," Jian said, standing up abruptly.
Behind Hill, the air began to shimmer again. A distortion appeared on the padded wall, churning into a swirling vortex of darkness, shot through with luminous, shifting colors – deep violets, blood reds, sickly greens. It pulsed ominously like a beating heart. Tendrils of shimmering smoke snaked out from the vortex and reached for Hill.
He felt an irresistible pull, far stronger than the initial transit. The portal widened, the tendrils wrapping around his limbs, cold but not freezing like the ghost. They began to drag him backward, off the padded floor, and into the swirling abyss.
Panic seized him, but Jian's words echoed: Steel your mind. He gritted his teeth, fighting the terror, focusing on the sheer will to survive that had gotten him through the bridge.
As the darkness enveloped him, the last thing Hill saw was Jian, still splattered in the evidence of failure, standing at attention, snapping a formal salute towards him.
"Good luck. I pray for your survival."