A ringing silence befell Rell’s declaration. Synthia and the others remained just as still as their non-descript surroundings until the lights flickered on and they found themselves in the front train car. Being a car reserved for first class passengers, it had individual compartments as opposed to the open booths in the others. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, down to how the car kept up the illusion of forward motion as it rocked.

“Don’t know if he could’ve done anything more unnerving,” Livian said, cocking her revolver. Synthia nodded in agreement. Rather than attack from the outset, their opponent had adopted a more patient strategy. There was no telling what awaited them in here.

Sliding one of the compartments open, Rynne allowed for Livian to check inside. They checked each in turn, turning up nothing.

“Thankfully, being the 7 PM ride, this was a much smaller train than the regular one,” Evarius said. “If there had been more cars, there’s no telling the amount of difficulties we would’ve faced.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Livian grumbled.

“It’s strange. You’d think the hostages would be inside here. Does he have them in the engine room?”

Rynne pondered Synthia’s question. “It’s not impossible. But still, the inconspicuousness of our surroundings is, in itself, conspicuous.”

Synthia nodded. “I know what you mean. Something’s not right here.”

All of a sudden, she stepped on a section of the carpet that felt somewhat softer than the rest. “The hell?”

“Oof!” Iggy stumbled as she hit another uneven part of the floor. “That’s weird. It’s like my foot caught something...”

Pressing her foot against where Iggy had tripped, Livian’s eyes grew wide. “Hang on.” She knelt down, pulling out a switchblade and feeling along the floor. Now that Synthia looked closely, it seemed that the carpet was awfully bumpy in places.

“What is this?” she said, unsure if she even wanted an answer.

Pressing into a section of the carpet, Livian determined where she should cut. She slashed down and opened up a hole. Her mouth pressed into a grim line. “Shit.”

Peering over her shoulder, Synthia had to stop herself from gagging. Buried beneath the carpet was a contorted body of one of the passengers. Their watery eyes looked up at them, pleading and in fear, even as they gagged around the pipe that had entered their throat.

Shrieking before clasping a hand over her mouth, Iggy stumbled away. Evarius grimaced, walking over to other sections of the carpet to cut open. As more and more of it was torn up, they realized that much of the floor consisted of the pained, impossibly contorted bodies of the passengers.

“How are they still alive?” Iggy asked.

“Because I guess this part is still just an illusion of some kind,” Evarius speculated. He tore up the carpet and gave a reassuring smile to the frightened woman peering up at him. She had a piece of wood lodged in her throat. “But I guess it feels real.”

“Oi, pipsqueak, help me get them out!” Synthia made to assist her but Rynne placed a firm hand on her shoulder. Unlike the rest, she was the only one to maintain her composure.

“Planning on tearing them out? Seems a little mundane, does it not? Think on what you did to make your way up here previously. Think about what he can do.”

Synthia drew a blank for a few seconds before remembering the Mioja’s abilities. She drew it over her back instantly. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Why indeed. You must make sure you continue to use your tools properly. Assess the situation, analyze your opponent’s abilities. Thankfully for us, you have the weapon best suited to dealing with this man’s abilities.”

Taking a deep breath, Synthia poured all the mana she could into the Mioja, determined to create a radius far larger than the one she had made previously. She felt her soul strain with the effort, but slowly their surroundings melted back to nothingness once again. The terrified looks of the passengers, though still in pain, regained that desperate light of hope. They were going to be saved!

“Oh, dear... I really don’t think so!”

Their surroundings stopped in their dissolution. They began to morph and change again. Synthia sensed a pushback against the field she was extending, and her concentration snapped like a frayed, taught cord. It actually resonated throughout her whole body, making her shudder.

As she shook it off, she was assailed by a wall of colour. Overlapping images, too many to keep track of, were floating around unbidden around the group. A field of flowers, the back of a departing woman, a sign that said “foreclosure”, one after the other, never ending. By the time something solid had formed, Synthia felt like she had experienced a dozen lives in the span of several seconds.

The scene finally solidified. A large printing machine stood in front of them, churning out sheet after sheet of paper.

“A printing plant?” Evarius said. Livian sighed.

“Sweet Apeiros, I really hate time magic.”

Looking around, Synthia asked “Where are the passengers?”

“I don’t see them,” Rynne said. “A printing plant... These definitely aren’t his memories. He must’ve reconstructed them from one of the victims’.”

“If there’s something you’d like to say, then say it,” Livian said. “Clearly there’s a connection between you and this guy.”

“It would take too long to explain.”

“Oh, bullshit—”

Evarius cut Livian off with a hand. She grumbled as she walked over to the stack of newspapers piling up at the end of the assembly track.

Synthia attempted to extend her field again, (something she had now decided to call ‘Negation Field’ moving forward), but their new scenery was far too big for her to manage much. Deciding to conserve her mana, she gave up on her strategy. Rynne nodded at this.

“Wise decision.”

By the newspapers, Livian’s brow slowly furrowed as she looked at one. She snatched it up, staring incredulously at the picture embossed on the front. She turned it around for the rest of the group to see.

“Guys, I didn’t hit my head or anything, right?”

Looking closer, the group’s eyes widened in shock sans Rynne. The photograph was of the terrified woman they had seen with the wood in her throat, frozen in black and white.

Synthia grabbed a paper of her own. The picture on the front was of the man with a pipe lodged into his mouth. “What the hell is this?”

Grabbing each newspaper, they confirmed that each one held the passengers on the front.

“Don’t tell me...” Iggy began. Rynne nodded. “The passengers may have been trapped inside these photographs.”

“Is that even possible?”

“If the user is sufficiently powerful, then yes.”

“How are we gonna get them out? Are we supposed to read them or something?”

“If you would like,” Rell’s impertinent voice answered. Synthia drew her sword, Rynne her bow and Livian her revolvers but their target was nowhere to be seen.

“How about you come out and show yourself, coward?” Synthia’s challenge was ignored as Rell droned on.

“I suppose the rules for this little game could be what the pale haired one suggests. You need only read all of those newspapers to free those poor passengers of yours. Each one you complete will grant you one freed individual.”

“Seriously?” Livian asked. “There is no way in hell it’s gonna be that easy, no matter how long these papers are.”

“Well as it turns out, reading is one of the things I’m best at,” Synthia said, tone triumphant. “If you believe we’ll be distracted for when you’re going to attack, then think twice! We’re gonna be ready for when you make your move.”

“Why are you sounding so smug?” muttered Iggy.

Plopping down, Synthia grabbed a newspaper at random and began reading. Her look of triumph quickly disappeared into a frown as she saw the font size was tiny.

“How can somebody even read this?” She pressed the paper close to her eye, trying to discern the letters. “Does this say leave or peeve?”

“How many pages are there, anyway?” Iggy flipped through her own copy, quickly growing alarmed as she somehow didn’t stop flipping. No matter how many pages she sifted through, she never got to the end. The newspaper itself didn’t even increase in volume.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me...”

“This guy’s just messing with us at this point,” Synthia said. Focusing on the still picture of the paper she was holding, which she recognized as the adventurer from the platform, she began shouting at it.

“DON’T WORRY! WE’RE GONNA GET YOU OUT OF THERE NO MATTER WHAT! JUST HANG ON!”

Despite their circumstances, the others couldn’t help but try to suppress their laughter. Rynne, as expected, remained unfazed.

“Use the sword again, Synthia. Honestly, I shouldn’t have to keep telling you this.”

“Yikes! Sorry, I’ll get in the habit of it from now on.”

Using Negation Field, she extended it over the newspaper. While it shimmered and rippled like her immediate area, nobody ended up popping out of it like she had been bracing for.

“Huh?”

“Oh, no luck?” Rell chimed in. “That whole thing about them being trapped in the newspapers? Well, that may have been a slight misguidance on my part.”

“WHAT!?” Synthia shouted, hopping back onto her feet. “I should’ve known you’d lie about this!”

“I didn’t lie, you arrived at the conclusion that I had hid them in the photos in the first place! Honestly, so suspicious! It’s almost as if you expect me to be devious from the start! You poor, lost, little idiots.”

Gritting her teeth, Synthia threw the newspaper to the floor and stomped on it. Her goofy disposition from a few moments ago having quickly evaporated. “That does it! This guy is pissing me off! After me guys, let’s go find him!”

“Hey, wait!” Iggy shouted as she and the others chased after her. “What about the plan!?”

“We’ll get to that once we find him,” Synthia said. “Like Rynne said, we beat this guy, we save the hostages! Sooner we do that, the sooner this whole thing can come to an end!”

“Her assessment proves accurate,” Rynne said. “I agree with it.”

“That doesn’t fill me with encouragement,” Iggy said dully. But still, she dutifully followed Synthia.

Kicking a door open, Synthia held the Mioja in front of her as she stepped through.

“What the...?”

Heading through the door, the group found themselves on an empty street. Rows of large, extravagant houses lined the way. They were absurdly lavish symbols of gross wealth. They appeared to have exited from one of them. Even though they had been in a printing plant just a moment before, they had gone to a new location entirely. Such were the rules of a new pocket dimension, it seemed.

Regardless, Synthia felt herself recoil at the mere sight of the houses. These were the types of homes oblivious, absurdly wealthy families held. She hated the sight of places like them. They were reminders of the vast disparity between the haves and the have nots. Said haves were people who would trade another’s soul for even a few more hours of their luxury.

“Are you feeling frustrated yet?” Rell asked. Synthia ignored him as she headed for a house, shouldering through it. A cacophony of noise met her, with ash and dirt filling the air. She shook her head as she realized she was in a battlefield the next moment. Cannons were firing, gunshots ringing out, blasts of fire and ice raining down on either side. Unlike before, there were multiple people gathered here. The field was brown with dirt, misshapen by explosions.

Turning around, she saw the door she had entered through standing in the middle of this carnage unaffected. Before she could stop it, it swung shut again with a final cry of “Synthia!” from Iggy before it closed.

“No, no, no!” Synthia rushed to the door and tried to pull it open. No luck. It had been locked.

“Do you see these images, young lady? These memories of pain, of strife? These lingering vestiges of anger?”

Synthia used Negation Field again, and this time managed to shoulder the door open. She did not return to the street of opulent houses, however. She was now on a sidewalk bustling with people. Cars thronged along the street in a mass of traffic Synthia had never seen before. Without even knowing it, she had become swept along in the crowd, carried in a sea of bodies hurrying to their next destinations.

“Anger takes many forms, young lady. It is the ferocity we use to motivate ourselves along in life. The little grievances we let pile up, without us even knowing it, until we feel the tension of our frustration roar up within us in a crashing wave.”

Fighting through the crowd, Synthia tried to drown out what Rell was saying. She couldn’t identify any of the passengers among the crowd. They seemed to only be another part of the illusion.

“Anger hides within even the kindest of souls. It can be a raging inferno, or a sharp, cold breeze. A means of expressing righteous indignation at the injustice you are dealt or a means of hiding from your own weakness.”

Synthia eventually fought her way to a store, using Negation Field immediately as she headed through the door. Stepping through, she noticed she was in a familiar location.

“Huh?”

It was her home. Her old home from Nelen. The old, failing building that had held her in its attic room for a decade or so.

Turning around, she tried to open the front door, which had been replaced with a new one made of splendid oak. Even using Negation Field on it, she had no luck. When Synthia turned around, she noticed that the entire house had been restored to its former glory as well. The paintings, the carpet, the holes in the wall all perfectly restored. The soft amber colour scheme was soothing.

Looking at the window in the living room, Synthia wrestled with whether or not to break through it, but something stopped her. She felt an instinctual tug to her old attic room. She couldn’t explain it, but something was compelling her to walk up the stairs.

While she knew this was likely another of Rell’s traps, Synthia couldn’t help but begin ascending the stairs. She had to know what was calling to her no matter what. Rell continued his monologue, now whispering it softly.

“Do you know what anger is? True rage? It’s something that follows you to work, and to home. It’s something that trails after you when you are happy, and especially when you feel cheated. Anger is a result. It is a reaction.”

Synthia had gotten to the top floor now.

“Anger is an equalizer. A way of detecting what displeases you and attempting to correct it. Or further wrong it, depending on your viewpoint.”

Entering the study, Synthia saw the old globe and desk. They were devoid of dust. It was rather unsettling.

“Anger isn’t something to be discouraged, or even feared. True rage never leaves you. In fact, it comes to define many of us. To guide us forward in moments of clarity.”

Pulling out the right books, Synthia heard the familiar click of her bookcase opening. She pulled it until the entrance was wide in front of her. She walked up the stairs, the light in the attic already on.

“I have looked inside your head, Synthia Ros. You are a... very passionate girl indeed. Your anger is, if I may deign to say so, exquisite. Because it is not so much anger directed at an individual, or even yourself. You accept yourself in a way very few can. Almost impersonally, as if you are judging somebody else. Your rage is directed at something far greater. Almost to the point that, you could say, you are remarkably unconcerned about your own wellbeing in pursuit of following that rage...”

Synthia grew stone faced as she saw what was on the couch side table. A bloodied knife sat on a letter marked Mr. Thornbury in looping cursive. The drops of blood stood in stark relief to the white paper they were on.

The hair on Synthia’s neck raised as she heard a whisper from right behind her. “What is it about heroes that enrages you so much, Miss Ros?”

Whirling around with the Mioja in hand, Synthia prepared to strike Rell down, but his hand closed around her throat. Choking, her short frame was lifted off the floor as she got a good look at her aggressor for the first time. She grew startled by the sight, her legs ceasing their kicks for a moment in shock.

“Huh?” she choked out. “But how...?”

She could say no more as Rell threw her through the window. She crashed through to the ground below, and the monster followed after her.