Adam's torment lasted for almost a full minute, during which he could do nothing but remain hunched on the floor, grunting in pain. At first, he thought he could endure, using his tenacity to somehow accustom himself, but in the end, it was all in vain. Ashoka's power wasn't limited to normal physical punishment; he could intervene directly in the nervous system, amplifying suffering to levels impossible for any human being to bear.
"Okay... I think I got the message," Adam said in a high, choked voice, barely catching his breath once the pain subsided. "I'm not going near anyone inside the house... but don't think I'm going to give up this body so easily. I can last for weeks... even months, if I put my mind to it. Nothing beats being alive."
A heavy silence enveloped him for several seconds, suddenly broken by a new tone, a feminine one, though with a strange, almost synthetic nuance. "So you're the new guest in our refuge."
Adam raised his head, bewildered, and directed his gaze to one of the walls. Before his surprised eyes, the wood was in a state of absolute deformation, as if it had a life of its own. Amidst creaks and clicks, a small statue made its way out, emerging with the solemnity of a guardian.
“You must be Nana,” Adam said with a crooked smile, surprised but quick to recover his ironic tone. “It’s a pleasure to meet such a work of art. By the way, my name is Adam, and I’m the newest spirit fragment in the neighborhood. I apologize for the shouting… but my new best friend was showing me the limits of my freedom.” His voice sounded exaggeratedly cordial, though his hands were still rubbing his aching groin.
The statue’s lifeless eyes glowed dimly with an icy glow as she replied, “Only those who have Joel’s approval may enter this refuge. Not even you, who inhabit his body, can overrule that rule.”
Adam raised his eyebrows, feigning understanding. “A rather harsh rule, but I respect it.” He leaned forward slightly, like an actor in a theater. “Although… I’d like to see your tenants before I leave your domain.”
Nana didn’t hesitate for a moment. "The rule was stipulated by Joel himself, who at one point glimpsed the possibility of someone of dubious morality taking control of his body. You have neither my approval nor Ashoka's. I can feel the falseness in every word you speak and the bloodlust permeating your spirit. So you must leave… immediately."
Adam's smile had barely begun to fade when, without warning, the ground beneath his feet cracked. The wood split like paper, and in the blink of an eye, his body fell into a dark abyss, with no visible bottom.
Frigid air enveloped him, and his nervous laughter echoed strangely off the invisible walls of the seemingly hollow tunnel. "This is going to be... interesting..." he managed to mutter as he fell.
Soon, Adam finally saw the light when he was ejected through a hole in the bark of the enormous tree that housed the shelter. He fell from that impossible height without the slightest hint of fear, landing on his feet with a loud thud that shook the earth.
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"That wasn't the welcome I was hoping for," he commented, flopping backward onto his butt on shaky legs. "I just wanted to see the children Joel has adopted with my own eyes. It's not like I'm going to do anything to them."
With some effort, as his legs were still numb, he dragged himself to one of the nearby trees and leaned his back against its trunk. He extended both hands and, with a natural gesture, conjured a pack of cigarettes in one and a lighter in the other. He lit one, inhaling the smoke with a gesture of almost solemn enjoyment.
"Calm down, killjoy," he muttered after exhaling a thick cloud. "There's no way this body can be damaged by this shit... I can't even feel the effect I used to experience in my original body. At least the taste relaxes me."
He sat for a while, smoking calmly, observing the surroundings and the small strip of morning sky that filtered through the leaves. When he finished, he stuffed the pack and lighter into his clothes and stood up.
"I know I'm not the most trustworthy man in the world," he said once he started walking toward the woods, heading clearly east. His voice was firm and held a hint of strange honesty. "But if you look back at my memories, and I know you can, you'll find that I've never harmed those who didn't deserve it... It's one of the few things I'm proud of. So don't think of me as someone who would try to harm those who are precious to Joel. That's impossible for me, even more so after inheriting part of his memories.”
He maintained a relaxed pace through the forest, nodding his head as if listening to a long, drawn-out internal discourse.
"I understand, but we all have a purpose," he murmured. "You've already fulfilled yours... now it's my turn to teach Joel a few things. Though first I have to experience the reality of this world... with my own eyes."
“Joel is an intelligent man, of that I have no doubt,” Adam continued as he advanced, “but he lacks imagination when it comes to exploiting our world’s technology. Firearms are useful, no doubt, but they clearly have limited effectiveness against the strongest mages. And I can think of many drugs and chemical agents I’ve come into contact with in my life, which should surely be effective in large doses against any magus… as long as they remain human.”
For a moment, he seemed to hear Ashoka’s retort and shook his head. “You trust him too much,” he murmured. “Remember, he’s just a man. And despite having the memories of hundreds of others, in the end, his small spirit won’t be able to carry all that weight alone… He needs help. And since I’m just passing through the neighborhood, I’m going to help him in any way I can.”
Adam removed the leather mask with a casual gesture; Joel’s face remained beneath it, and as the fake skin fell away, a huge, sinister smile curved his lips.
“Obviously everything has a price,” he said, with calculating calm. “From my point of view, nothing should be free. All I ask is the freedom to express my ‘art’ while I remain in this world. Obviously, I will maintain my old rule: I will not harm children or innocent people.”
He remained silent for a moment again, that thin smile on his face. His gaze seemed lost somewhere in the forest, but it was actually focused inward, listening to his now bodymate. His eyes shone for a moment, and then, in a soft, almost confidential tone, he murmured:
“I see no reason for you to worry. You can act at any time and stop me before I do something you don’t like, or protect Joel’s body if something goes wrong… I know you don’t want to admit it, but the fact that Joel isn’t here right now allows you much more freedom with your powers. And I have a sneaky suspicion that, if you put your mind to it, you could take complete control and leave me as a mere spectator… But you won't, because of your stupid philosophy... and because you know I'm right.”
As he said this, his smile widened, not with joy, but with a kind of twisted certainty. Then he extended one of his hands. Between his fingers appeared a small, clear vial, precariously labeled with paper tape. Inside, a white powder settled at the bottom.
“This, my dear monk, is a drug I found on one of my victims,” he explained, turning the bottle in the light filtering through the leaves. “I never used it; in fact, I thought I’d lost it in the trash in my cellar. And only later did I learn that the man I killed was experimenting with the synthesis of a new type of drug that had begun to gain popularity: fentanyl, a hundred times more potent than cocaine.”
He raised the bottle until it almost touched his own eye, studying the powder like someone contemplating a relic. “It’s incredible that I’m able to recover something I thought was lost… If I’m not mistaken, there are several grams in here. Enough to kill hundreds of people from an overdose.”
His voice lowered, almost a whisper, laced with curiosity and threat. “I wonder… what effect it would have on a magician?”
