Threads of the Soul

"Follow me guys, I know a shortcut to get back quicker."

The moist knight, Erik, was not in fact currently leading the group through a shortcut, like he had just said, but was instead currently glaring at a near identical copy of himself as they both hide behind a shop counter.

This copy was, in fact, the one who had spoken, its voice dripping with false confidence and mockery.

"Oh It's such a wonderful short cut, We'll get back in no time. Just don't worry about the fact that it runs right past a god damn Pet store!"

The copy smacked the original Erik across the back of the head before its own head melted, losing its solid form and morphed back into the regular appearance of Cynthia.

She was about to smack him in the head again, but quickly changed her mind when she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

Instantly leaning back, she lashed out with both feet and struck the moronic navigator right in the middle of his garish gold chestplate, sending in tumbling back at the same moment a nightshade harpoon burst through the counter they were hiding behind.

The harpoon itself, which could punch a hole the size of a human head, easily tore through the aluminum of the counter like it was nothing more than cardboard that had been thoroughly waterboarded by the CIA.

But the harpoon didn't stay for long, as soon as it found purchase, it ripped a chunk out of the counter and retreated back through the air, following the path it had launched through just moments ago.

"You just didn't think to mention this when you were telling us about your short cut?"

"I never noticed it before! I only came by here for the coffee place across the street! How was I supposed to know that- Wait, what's going on? Why am I- WAAAAH!"

Just as he was beginning to list off his excuses, the flamboyantly dressed moist knight began to slowly lift into the air. His arms flailing uselessly and his legs kicking, desperate to find some sort of purchase on a ground that was getting further and further away from him.

Only when he was floating higher than the destroyed counter that they had been hiding behind, did he finally stop rising. A look of confusion plastered across his aquamarine face before instantly being replaced by sheer terror as he rocketed through the air.

Smacking through displays of dog toys, collars and ruined shelves that once held live feed for pets. No matter how many things he smashed into, or through, his momentum only grew instead of slowing, right up until he shattered the fish tanks lining the back wall, and embedded himself in said wall in the process.

Leaping and swimming her way through the ruined store, Cynthia rushed to check on the garish knight. He might have been an idiot, but he was a good idiot. But when she caught sight of him, she stopped short.

Ink flowed through her semi translucent body, emerging from her fingertips and creeping through the air until it formed a resplendent bow that looked like it was carved from the horns of a deer and dipped in liquid bronze. Perhaps, by ordinary measures, this did not make for anything close to a properly flexible and robust material necessary for a functional bow.

But the world no longer operated on such pathetic ordinary measures, and this was certainly no ordinary bow.

With her eyes glued on the situation before her, always watching for the slightest change, Cynthia slowly brought her bow into a two handed grip in front of her chest. With barely any effort, the bow snapped in two, its string melting into ink that retreated into the seperated bronze limbs.

As soon as the string disappeared, as if using it to power their transformation, the limbs began to flatten out. Losing the rounded form required for the bow and instead taking on a flat and deadly edge.

What she now held in her hands was a pair of bronze cast Khopeshes.

'I can't believe this is what I need to fight. What has this world come to?'

Letting out an internal sigh, Cynthia raised her blades into a defensive stance as she observed her opponent and the situation around her.

Suspended in the air were countless glistening nodes like stars in the sky. Watches, rings, necklaces, bracelets, even a tooth. All manner of objects were floating around her, but they all had one thing in common.

Every single item was made of, or plated in, pure gold.

Behind it all was a single bowl of water, being held aloft in the air by a pair of gold chains wrapped around the lip and suspended in the air so that the bowl was held like a hanging lantern hooked on nothing.

Floating happily within the bowl of water was a lone fish, small enough that it could easily fit in the palm of a child's hand, with glittering scales of lustrous gold as it chopped at the grains of gravel at the bottom of the bowl.

Before anything else could happen, the sound of cracking and crumbling filled the room as Erik dug himself out of his own personal Cask of Amontillado. His armour clanked loudly when his boots hit the ground, having finally freed himself from the wall. Yet that is all the moves he made.

He didn't approach Cynthia, he didn't try to strike down the dreaded goldfish. He didn't even utter a single word. Of course, how could he?

As he stood before her, as silent as the dead, his head hung limply forward, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his mouth hung open. A gentle river of turquoise blood trickling down his sweat shining forehead and dripping off his chin onto his resplendent golden armour.

All around him, the wicked goldfish prepared its instruments of death for the pending combat. Gold rings of all sizes flattened themselves out, as if they were in a hydraulic press, before rolling themselves into a tight, corkscrew spiral. Turning themselves into whirling golden bullets ready to pierce the flesh of their victims.

Bracelets and necklaces combined together coiled themselves up into golf ball sized balls of bludgeoning horror.

Wristwatches unhooked themselves, ready to bind themselves to their victim and keep them pinned down with more than the wretched knowledge of the unstoppable marching of time.

The single golden tooth hung in the air, floating menacingly.

The former comrade, clad in wonderful golden armour, lifted a trembling and uncoordinated hand before resting it on the sword he held on his hip. With fingers the fish had never dreamed of having, he drew the sword and pointed it towards Cynthia, who simply gave it a confident smirk in return.

He lifted his leg and, like a fish trying to walk after just discovering legs for the first time in its existence, he took an uncoordinated step forward that rolled his ankle and caused him to fall flat on his face. A sickening crunch echoing out as the poor knight's face smashed against the laminated wooden floor of the pet store.

The knight remained on the floor for a few seconds, before lifting off the ground and floating in the air once again. However when he was placed on his feet once again, Cynthia couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the sight of his crooked nose.

'I know I should feel bad but I mean… Come on. Poor guy, this is just not his day. I guess we can call that punishment for not visiting the fishies when you were here. If you did, maybe this wouldn't have happened.'

Leaning her head to the side, she barely avoided a golden bullet that blasted past her and instead found purchase in a display of aquarium castles. It had barely scratched her cheek, but no blood trickled out. Why would it?

She had no blood to spill, nor flesh to pierce. She could not be bound or bludgeoned. She only dodged out of amusement for its attempt on her life, not concern.

Facing down this arsenal of gold, she felt no fear. Just confidence.

"Oh little fishy. You chose the wrong opponent today. Maybe if you're good, I'll be quick about turning you into a nice pile of fish fingers."

A sadistic smile spread across her face as she spun her Khopesh, sparking them together as she simply stood there. Uncaring for the golden bullets that were being launched through her body, the sound of them crashing into stock behind her only increasing her amusement.

It seemed the goldfish was quick to understand the futility of its actions, but perhaps a bit too quick.

Instead of sinking in despair, the little goldfish let out bubbles of frustration. With a single thought from its tiny mind, the gold hanging in the air began to move once again.

The fired golden bullets digging themselves out the ground, reshaping themselves into a usable state once again.

Even the golden Knight raised his sword once again, turning it upon his new target before plunging it down.

'No!'

If Cynthia had any blood left to spill, it would have drained completely from her face. Raising her blades, she rushed forward, desperate to stop the knight as, under the fishes control, he swung his sword towards his own unprotected, unconscious head.