Chương 167: Whistling Summons

"Why do I feel itchy all over?" June scratched his bicep. An itching sensation had started to form over his body the closer and closer he got to the center. He lowered a hand to his wrist and cupped two of the few bracelets on his hand, both having sentimental value: an old gift from Shade, an out-of-touch friend who was there when he awakened… and another gift from Lilia. Her gift glowed brighter the closer June got to the paired bracelet that Lilia wore.

It was better than a mundane accessory; it wasn't omniscient, but it let them both know that the other was alive. It was immeasurably valuable to June; he had fallen out of the old habit of checking it compulsively, since it didn't work in the simulation. Regardless, the fact that he could peer down at his hand and have physical proof that someone out there loved him was… nice. His hand suddenly tensed as the itching struck him once more.

He scratched and scratched; he thought it was from anxiety, but this was something else; it was almost like— Phweee The sound of a whistle broke the deafening silence of the evacuated event space. After a moment, another whistle echoed, and then a few more, then many more — hundreds of individual whistles surrounded him and drowned out the silent crumbles of collapsing rubble. Several moments went by, allowing the wind to gasp in the void of silence… Then in the distance, BOOM! BANG! CRACK!

A few shockwaves rang out, like thunderclaps. June turned swiftly to see a few people — Dreamers, sailing through the air through powerful leaps to magical flight. Then came the horde; first, a few others were seen lagging behind the speeding Dreamers, then a clump of more, then… June's face paled as dozens of Aspirants, and hundreds of mundane perpetrators flowed out of the woodwork like disturbed roaches. A few even caught sight of him… but none peeled off to fight him.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. His hands dropped down, as did his jaw, falling agape.

'I don't need to fight them all!? Do I?'

'…' He clenched his teeth and pressed his fingers into his palm — Voice was still nowhere to be seen. His hand twitched; the itchy feeling returned. June couldn't make sense of the sudden irritation. He scratched and scratched his skin, making it bleed. Arms, legs, chest, head, fingers, face, everything suddenly became itchy. Was this due to stress? It felt like something was trying to tear its way out of his skin. June abruptly ceased his scratching and focused his Will into shaping his flesh.

The bleeding cuts sealed, scarred, then faded into nothingness; the feeling of itchiness, the vile discomfort of it all. He clenched his fist and ignored the irritating sensation with all of his will; in fact, he even used his Will to dampen the damning sensation. He exhaled shakily and unclenched his fist; small crescents of welling blood formed along where his nails had dug in before quickly sealing shut. He looked up and steadied himself.

The horde had thinned in the distance, the last stragglers disappearing past the wrecked hedges toward wherever the whistles were calling them. Toward the center. Toward wherever Lilia might be. He was getting closer as well. June didn't know what was waiting there. He didn't know why hundreds of people had just run past him like he wasn't worth the detour, or why the damned itching started moments before the whistle, or why it was still irritating him. He didn't care to find out on his own terms anymore.

He broke into a sprint, following the fading figures into the murk, and clenched his jaw tighter, making his teeth groan against one another. He was starting to get tired of looking... and not finding.