The Universe Rings (A Ringing Purpose)

Chapter Twelve

Kenneth's shoes slid on the gravel as he sharply turned a corner. He bolted down a narrow street, knowing he wasn't far from the beach. He swerved around a blind corner and nearly smashed into a figure; his mind spun as he instinctively attempted to tear his wrist from the hands' grasps, but he quickly stopped when the person spoke.

"The universes! Kenneth, hold your horvas," Dior exclaimed, placing a hand on Kenneth's shoulder.

Kenneth didn't bother to question what in the universes a horvas was. He sighed and held out his hand. "I'd like my pocket knife back, please," he said, breathless.

"So you can stab someone after blindly running into them?" Dior asked, hand in his pants pockets.

Kenneth's brow furrowed. "That wouldn't happen."

"Might've fifteen seconds ago if you had the knife," Dior said, a clear mocking tone at this point. Kenneth glared, and Dior handed him the plain pocket knife—Kenneth pocketed it. "Halo's at the beach—it's safe there for now. But we gotta get back," Dior informed.

Kenneth's lips parted to reply when he and Dior were thrown from their feet. Kenneth grunted as he tumbled into a wain outside of a shop; a variety of merchandise spilled out of the unstable cart, and he just barely had time to cover his head from a metal vase.

Kenneth lay on his side and saw angled boots clomping forward. He scrambled over the fallen objects and crawled under the cart—bumping his head on a wheel in the process. His thoughts swam with possible escape routes, the wellbeing and whereabouts of Dior, and how much he did not want a violent confrontation with the approaching Interitus.

The refuge didn't linger long. The cart flew from its place and struck the wide window of a shop. Kenneth leaped to his feet, but the Interitus looming before him waved a hand, and Kenneth rose inches from the ground. He struggled against the spell, floating there weightlessly.

Dior bolted toward the Interitus, brandishing his pocket knife. The Interitus whirled around as he pushed a hand forward, and Dior jolted back against the door of a shop on the opposite side of the street. He was conscious—climbing to his hands and knees—but he appeared far too shaken up to be able to immediately rejoin the fight.

Kenneth ran toward his friend, but he was forced to duck to the side as the Interitus threw fiery boulders in his direction—he couldn't fathom where they had come from. Can Interitus materialize objects out of nothing? Apparently, video games don't always teach good reaction time because he was flattened on his stomach as the attacking Interitus loomed over him before he could even retaliate.

The Interitus's foot stomped on Kenneth's back, and no pushing against the ground would throw off the boot pressing into his spine. In a breathtaking—literally—instant, the Interitus's boot appeared to become iron; the heavy weight seemed to crush Kenneth's bones, and he found himself nearly unable to inhale.

Suffocation's panic immediately spiked, and Kenneth found himself desperately attempting to fight off the Interitus but with no prevail. The pocket knife in his pants pocket pressed into his thigh, but he couldn't reach it while lying on it.

The Interitus's heavy boot disappeared as Kenneth heard the sound of struggling and grunting in pain. He gasped—almost inhaling so suddenly he choked—and he snatched the knife from his pocket and flipped it open.

Dior stumbled back, clenching his knife—the blade smeared with blood. "A little help?" he snapped at Kenneth, voice ragged. He bore a minor burn on one of his arms, but he stood as firm as a soldier as the Interitus approached. Kenneth envied such bravery.

Kenneth leapt to his feet, grasping his knife although unsure of what to do with it.

As if the Interitus thought their fight to be childish, and he had grown tired, he only stood there and lazily waved a hand after a quick moment of consideration.