Guardian of Future Days, Pt. 2

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I stepped out of the ruin left by the thing's death, letting my aura and sword dissipate as I did.

The monsters were nasty enough when they were "alive" and kicking. When they died things got really ugly. Whatever that crap was that ran through their bodies was extremely toxic to living flesh, causing a a rapid, excruciating rot to set in wherever it touched. But wait, there was more, it also ate through rock, metal, glass, pretty much everything it came into contact with. But they didn't stop there, oh no, these bastards weren't done trying to kill you even when they were falling over in a spray of black acid. Once they stopped moving they exploded, spewing that crap all over everything. As a result I was standing in a roughly circular patch of smoking ruin almost 15 feet in diameter.

I let my senses expand outwards to see how many were inbound and counted three. As much as I could sense them, they could sense me. Not that they needed preternatural senses, when my aura was up I glowed with a golden-silver radiance that could light a city block. These three were coming in slowly, they knew a Guardian was here and one of their own was now hissing all over the sidewalk.

I can take one easily, two with a little more effort, three was pushing things. Not that they would stop at three, the fuckers would fight a delaying action whilst more headed in, there would be ten or more in a matter of moments. They spared no expense to take out a Guardian.

I concentrated for just a moment and let my power wash over me, another brief flare in the night, then I was gone. Not physically. I was still standing where I had been but now I existed Elsewhere, a sideways space parallel to our own reality. Here the monsters could not walk, here there was light, a soft glow that touched everything around it. The city streets were black in the physical world but here they were silver, almost beautiful. One could almost delude herself into thinking the city still lived when one was Elsewhere. Almost. I sagged against the Elsewhere version of the car that was busy deconstructing itself in the other world, stepping sideways was taxing but I was too close to the Necropolis to risk flight.

I shuddered as I gazed east and caught the shape of the obelisk that had sprung like cancer in the hearts of every city on earth, every place the things walked. Even in the Elsewhere the thing brooded like a storm, all black and purple, mottled and hideous. Black vapour writhed about the thing like tendrils, seeking life. I could hear the screams of the cities' dead, they vibrated in my soul, an unearthly cacophony of the damned and not for the first time did I wonder who I had known and loved in my old life sang in that terrible chorus.

No, I would not risk flight this night. I walked away from the scene of the battle towards the one place in this city that was still safe, towards Sanctuary.

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City life

I used to live in London.
It gets like that sometimes. Of course, my "elsewhere" wasn't quite as vivid, but one goes there as often as one can, wherever it might be: listening to music; reading a book; taking a new miniskirt for a walk.
But eventually I did flee.
Life is better out of the cities, believe me. Your story is a reminder - you paint a very vivid tableau.
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