Gunmage-Chapter 30: Two bodies, one mind

They had been walking for what felt like hours. Maybe even more. The passage of time had become uncertain in this place, distorted by the oppressive silence that swallowed their every step.

The air hung heavy, thick with something unseen yet tangible. Lugh had been wary since their encounter with that strange woman, but now, as they pressed on, the unease he felt had only grown worse.

His right eye was acting up again. At first, it had been nothing but a dull ache, a small irritation he could ignore, but the pain had started to climb in intensity, a slow, insidious burn that sent pulses of discomfort through his skull.

He had stopped a few times, pressing his palm against his eye in a futile attempt to ease the pain.

Each time, Dain stopped as well, but the lieutenant never reacted, never acknowledged his suffering. He simply waited, his posture eerily patient. His face stoic.

Lugh had started to notice something even stranger. Their footsteps—his bare feet slapping softly against the cold, uneven ground, and Dain's heavy boots thudding with each step—had fallen into perfect synchronization.

Not just a coincidence, not just similar pacing, it was perfectly matched. Whenever Lugh adjusted his stride, Dain's adjusted with it, seamlessly, without effort.

Something was wrong.

After another twenty minutes of silence, Dain finally spoke, his voice a whisper so hollow it barely felt like his own.

"I think my mind is slipping."

'You think?'

Lugh held back his thoughts. The eerie sensation hanging in the air left no room for sarcasm.

Ten more minutes passed.

Dain sudden halted.

Lugh took a few more steps before realizing the lieutenant was no longer beside him. He turned, expecting some sort of response, an explanation, an acknowledgment, there was nothing.

Dain only stood there, his head dipped forward, his expression hidden beneath the shadow cast by his sweat soaked hair.

A creeping dread slithered into Lugh's gut.

Is it finally happening?

His grip on the invisible dagger tightened. He had spent the last few hours simulating at least ten different ways to kill Dain if things went south.

Now, staring at the motionless figure of the lieutenant, he was beginning to wonder how feasible those plans were.

Lugh took a cautious step forward.

Dain raised his head.

The sight sent a violent shudder through Lugh's entire body. His legs buckled beneath him, and he crashed to the ground, hands trembling.

He wanted to scramble back, to move, but his limbs felt numb, disconnected from his will.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Dain's eyes were wrong. They were dead.

Not in the way a corpse's eyes were vacant, not like the hollow gaze of a lifeless body. This was something else, something far worse.

They were devoid of light, devoid of soul, and yet they saw. They were the same eyes as the men on the ship. The same eyes as those who had thrown him overboard.

But that wasn't what truly shattered him.

His vision was split.

Not like before—not the usual fragmented glimpses of movement, not the future projections of an opponent's attack.

His left eye still saw Dain. Still saw the way the man stood, unmoving, staring at nothing.

But his right eye...

His right eye saw another Dain.

A mirrored image. But not quite. This version of the lieutenant felt different, as if something alien had slipped into his skin. There were no future projections, no movement at all—just the same dead, empty stare.

And then, there was a third view—

Lugh was taller.

He was looking down at himself.

He could see his own wide-eyed shock, the terror painting his pale features. But this perspective wasn't just visual—it was sensory. He could hear, smell, feel from this separate existence.

A terrible realization crept into his mind.

His right arm twitched.

So did Dain's.

Lugh sucked in a sharp breath.

"No, no, no—"

Panic surged through him. He forced himself to stand, but the overload of his fractured senses made his balance falter.

The ground felt uneven beneath his feet, shifting between realities, and his stomach twisted in protest.

He lunged forward, grabbing onto Dain's uniform, shaking him with all the strength his trembling hands could muster.

"Lieutenant, wake up! Please wake up! Wake up!"

Nothing. There was no response.

He could see himself screaming at the lieutenant, his face twisted with frantic desperation,but it was different from looking into a mirror.

The sheer wrongness of it made his head spin.

A sharp ringing sound snapped him back. Lugh looked down. The enchanted dagger had slipped from Dain's fingers, clattering against the ground.

He picked it up.

It adjusted to his size immediately.

He stared at it for a long time, his thoughts a proper mess.

It felt as if he had gained an extra body at the cost of another person's life.

It felt? No. That was exactly what had happened.

He tried to move Dain but the movements were clumsy, awkward and unnatural.

Lugh struggled to process what was happening.

Was he supposed to feel happy?

Was he supposed to feel sad?

He couldn't quite describe it, but if he had to summarize what coursed through him now, it was fear.

Fear of what he was slowly turning into

Then—

"Lugh?"

A voice.

Footsteps.

A presence, rushing toward him. Someone grabbed his arm.

"Lugh, what happened to you?!"

He turned sharply, his heart pounding.

It was the Sergeant, Lyra. She looked horrible.

Her face was a mess of exhaustion and pain, her skin was ghostly pale and her clothes were soaked in dried and fresh blood.

Her hands were shaking, but her grip on him was firm.

The reaction was instant.

"Get away from me!"

He yanked himself free, stumbling back, his breath coming out in short, uneven gasps.

"Lugh, what's going on? What happened to—?"

Her voice was riddled with anxiety, but Lugh didn't let her finish.

"Don't follow me."

Then he ran.

Dain followed.

"Lugh?! Dain! Come back here!"

She chased after them.

Lugh knew he wouldn't be able to outrun her. His control over Dain's body was still unrefined and clumsy.

So he did the only thing he could think of, he threw the dagger.

It sailed through the air—

Lyra deflected it with a longsword.

Lugh froze.

Where did she get that?

Then a memory resurfaced. Her scream, her shoulder, impaled by the knight's blade. Her pain, ringing through his ears.

He looked at her now, truly looked.

She was in worse shape than him.

Her wounds were deep. She could barely stand.

And yet—

She still chased after him. She was too stubborn to stop.

Until—

She collapsed.

Her pained moans echoed through the air and Lugh felt something pull at him. It was guilt.

He quickly shoved it away. Things were better this way.

They ran.

Eventually, Lugh stopped, his breaths ragged, his body heavy with exhaustion.

Dain did not breathe.

Lugh buried his head in his knees.

Then—

Another voice

"I told you, you'd regret it."

Lugh's head snapped up.

The strange girl was back.

She smiled.