《An Old Legend》


 Prologue

    An old legend, often told to scare children to sleep at night.


    Date of origin: unknown.


    Truth: unknown.


    ¡°On the edges of the world, past the boundaries of normalcy and order, lays a great beast.


    Many will call this beast a serpent, but its true form is unknown, along with how long it has been there.


    Some speculate it created the world itself, while others choose to believe it came from elsewhere.


    The only thing we know about it with any certainty is that it was only with its blessing that we were safe from the nightmares of the void; the eternal darkness that lies beyond the border of its holiness.


    Nonetheless, a being of its magnificence can often forget its own might.


    As such, once every 300 years, the serpent decides to move. This movement shakes the world.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Thus, every 300 years, a grand hunt of sorts was organized to convince the serpent of its best path.


    The strongest, bravest, or perhaps the most foolish men and women gathered for this hunt.


    At first, the necessity of this venture was clear in the minds of all who attended.


    Over time, however, people grew arrogant.


    So long had it been since they were reminded of what lies beyond the body of the serpent.


    So many millennia passed in the same way.


    Those who remembered the origins of the hunt had long passed onto the pages of history.


    Many have since been lost even from those.


    But really, who can blame those ¡°hunters¡± for their complacency?


    They were the strongest and smartest of their times; many of them undefeated in their craft.


    Long had it been since the importance of their venture was clearly presented before them.


    Long ago had these grand, three-century cooperations turned competitive.


    But these brave souls believed to have remembered the importance of their deed, even if they couldn¡¯t remember why it had such importance.


    Nonetheless, no preparation could have prepared them for their final hunt.


    That day, for a reason no one knows, the serpent finally turned its great eyes onto the world.


    And those hunters lost themselves in the endless light and wisdom which fill those eyes, the light an wisdom of thousands of wandering souls.


    So lost were they, that they missed when the serpent moved.


    They missed when we lost the blessing of our God.


    And so it was on that day that our new world was born.¡±

 Part 2

    I¡¯ve often heard the old men in the bars complain about that day in their drunken stupor, slumped over a half-drunk mug, not caring about who or what may hear them. I find myself pitying these men. Many once had a great fire burning in their hearts and a bright line shining in their eyes, as all men do at some point. But not everyone can live this life at the edge. The goal of serving humanity can only keep their will burning for so long. Over many years at the fringes of sanity, faced with things no man should ever face, bathed in the presence of the serpent for far too long, all minds begin to break down. Now they sit here, many of them having forgotten wives or children left back in the realm of decency, washing down their experiences, hoping that the next barrel that gets cracked open was accidentally poisoned during production again. I pity these men, but there is always a part of me that looks at them with fear. This is where everyone ends up in the end. I am not special.


    I sigh to myself, tired of mulling over the lives of others and the inevitability of the future, and stood up, leaving a few coins on the table. The coins here aren¡¯t made of metal. It¡¯s a rare enough resource as is out here, and what there is goes into making or repairing our weapons. Instead, these coins are carved out of wood. Effectively, it works off an honor system, which does have obvious flaws which crop up every now and then, but people generally don¡¯t care enough to go looking for large enough scraps of wood to make their own coins. It¡¯s usually younger hunters, the name given to the people in our line of work, who choose to cheat the system, having yet to realize how truly little there is worth buying.


    The rain outside continued as always. Sometimes it poured down in sheets, but usually it was just a miserable drizzle. In the nearly six months I was there, I couldn¡¯t remember a time when the rain stopped for more than a few minutes at a time. Right now, it was back to its usual drizzle. I flipped my cloak¡¯s hood up and started for the door.


    ¡°Hold on a minute,¡± a voice called from behind me. I stopped and turned to face the barkeep that called out to me. My cold and slightly irritated stare indicated that I was listening and that he should start speaking soon before I walk out.


    ¡°Have you heard about what happened yet? Over at the fort?¡±


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Did something strong come crawling out again? I¡¯m sure it was nothing they couldn¡¯t handle.¡±


    Such things had happened before, an especially strong critter claws its way out of the night and gives the men tasked with holding the fort hell for a night. However, with the number of hunters stationed there, they were always able to put such things down by morning.


    When I said this, I noticed a change in the atmosphere of the room. The air froze and the quiet conversations all seemed to be just a bit quieter or gone altogether. A few of the men looked at me with disdain.


    ¡°You just got back so I suppose you wouldn¡¯t know. The fort was overrun last night. A few survivors made it into town earlier with the news. Poor young men ran for hours to get here. One dropped dead shortly after they shared the news, and the other two are at the hospital. We¡¯ve been given the evacuate order.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve told them for years that we needed walls on this place for when that damn fort got taken out, and none of those old men took me seriously. Now look where we are,¡± one of the patrons spoke up, getting a few murmurs in agreement in response.


    ¡°When do they want us to evacuate by?¡± I ignored the complainer. Resources and money were tight. The only thing that could be relied on out here was the strength of the people tasked with defense. If that¡¯s not enough, we don¡¯t deserve to hold out.


    ¡°End of the day tomorrow, but most people seem to be leaving today, trying to make it down to Aarkile before nightfall. Or at least, those that want to leave are going. I suggest you pack up and get out of here before too long. Maybe you can tag along with the Cleaners when they sweep through here in a few weeks.¡±


    It always happened with the loss of forts. The city they protected was swiftly evacuated, with the only people left those who chose to fight or those too drunk to care. Then once the city was lost, all those who remained slaughtered in the streets mindless beasts swarming the roads and alleys, the Cleaners would roll through. This group was comprised of the best fighters and Clergy from various cities. The beasts would be eliminated, and their bodies burned along with any of the people who didn¡¯t make it out. They would then continue to the fort and take out whatever strong thing had decided to call it home. Within a few weeks after that, with constant patrols and surveillance of the Cleaners, everything would return to normal, fresh faces would be assigned to the fort and city, and the cleanup crew would leave. This happened in a cycle, but no one seemed to have any interest in making it stop anymore.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to keep that in mind.¡±


    I turned and once again made for the door, this time unbothered.


    ¡°As long as you know.¡±


    I stopped briefly at the door and chuckled softly before walking out.

 Part 3

    I walked down the soaked roads of the quiet city. It was late morning, shortly before the sun reached its zenith, not that anyone could tell. The ever-present clouds killed any hope anyone may have had to see the light of the sun. From the time the sun came up to the time it set again, one would be hard pressed to discern the time given ambient light alone. I had long given up on anything more than knowing when the night started and stopped, which was one of the only clear indications of the passing of time. Nights were brutal, with the only light being provided by the occasional candle-lit lantern on the side of road, the light from which was hardly noticeable due to the light fog that seemed to descend every night. Sometimes, it felt as though a god of darkness had descended upon us, enveloping us in an endless night, where the sun became a scant memory.


    Rain skipped off the rooftops, forming two small streams down either side of the road. Small puddles highlighted the unevenness and disrepair of the roads, a consistent pattern of that city, along with all the cities out at the fringes. Disorder and disrepair were common; as long as things still worked, no one felt the need to fix them.


    Most of the buildings along the street were shops and various forms of entertainment. These had mostly been abandoned by this point, not that there was much activity before the evacuation order. The city, despite being inhabited by thousands of people at its peak, could be easily described as a dead city. Most people spent their time hunting or in buildings doing something to pass the time. No one was wealthy. Everyone lived hunt to hunt, using the rewards to buy entertainment and hunting when the money ran out again. They¡¯d also spend money on keeping their equipment in decent condition, but past a certain point, most people gradually stopped caring. If an axe or sword broke, a gun didn¡¯t fire, or some other tool failed in some catastrophic way, the worst that could happen was death. This outcome wasn¡¯t unwelcome, especially by the older hunters.


    I chose to spend my time hunting. My purpose for being there was to do that. There was no purpose to that purpose. I¡¯d spend time in bars to catch up on events and find out where beasts had reached the closest to the city. In hindsight, I¡¯m not entirely sure why I was there. I had no desire to build wealth and move back closer to the real cities. Perhaps it was fate that led me there.


    I chose not to evacuate immediately. The fort was close to a two days¡¯ journey from the city, so I figured I could leave early the next morning and either head to Aarkile, as was suggested, or wander out in the forests and plains for a while. The creatures that crawled out of the void all converged on population centers, which often left the uninhabited areas relatively safe. People still preferred to live in cities though, as there was always the chance something may wander across them. This didn¡¯t particularly worry me, although there was always the chance that something especially strong appeared in the oppressiveness of the night.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I was walking towards the Forge. I always felt that it was a good idea to keep track of what weapons were in stock. If nothing else, I could have them look at my current weapons and check for any damage. There wasn¡¯t anything significant, but small damage can and will multiply if left unchecked, and considering I was never lacking in funds, getting some small stuff repaired wasn¡¯t a big deal.


    My weapons of choice were a mace, a short sword, and a small, one-handed shotgun. Different creatures required different methods of attack, but most things bled and those that didn¡¯t could be broken. The shotgun likely couldn¡¯t make it through the hide of anything, but it could still knock something over or interrupt it if caught off guard. The shot was made of stone and it was impossible to put enough powder in to make it deadly without it also breaking the user¡¯s wrist when shot. I found it important to stick to these small weapons, rather than some people who preferred a great sword or great hammer. Not only were they heavy and nearly impossible to conceal, one misstep in a fight could lead to death due to the lack of speed and recovery. Additionally, having multiple weapons allowed me to continue fighting in the event that one breaks.


    After a few minutes of walking, I came upon the Forge. It was a heavily fortified building, with thick stone walls and roof made of metal, an incredibly rare sight to see in any city. The investment was worth it though, as the building and the few people allowed to stay inside it had survived multiple overruns over the course of the city¡¯s history. This was something common to other cities as well. The Forges were backed by some higher power, although none of the people in these fringe cities knew who or what that power may be, not even the people that worked the Forges, all of whom came from larger cities. The front of the forge had a small wooden vestibule for patrons to hang their coats and cloaks in. It also served the purpose of keeping the weather out of the building, as the main doors were made of stone similar in thickness to the walls, which were kept open permanently, as they were nearly impossible to move. The only time they would be closed, and subsequently barred from the inside, was in the event of beast wave.


    I walked into the small wooden growth off the building and stripped myself of my now soaked cloak, then stepped into the unusually cozy warmth and light of the Forge.

 Part 4

    Final Rites of the Church of the Serpent


    Date of Origin: Founding of the Church of the Serpent


    ¡°May this soul find peace in the nothing,


    May it find its place in the dreams of our Sleeping God,


    May its light shine forever in the eyes of the Great Serpent, and


    May its energy be used to stave off the night.


    Let this soul experience the eternal truth,


    Let this soul be free of the shackles of its body,


    Let this soul be unshackled from our impure, mortal realm, and


    Let us join it when our time comes.¡±


    ***


    Upon walking into the Forge I was immediately greeted by the attendant and the smell of wood smoke.


    ¡°Welcome back. Just here to look again or do you actually plan to buy something this time?¡± she asked, feigning annoyance. This had become our routine at this point, both of us itching to find ways of making our dreary lives just a touch more enjoyable.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯d buy something if the two of you ever made something worth buying that was worth what you¡¯d have me pay for it. Why drain my pockets buying something new when what I have kills just as well as I need it to.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never heard of supporting local business, have you? Besides, its never a bad idea to try something new out, you may find out you¡¯re natural or something with a weapon you¡¯ve never even thought of using before.¡±


    ¡°Maybe give me a free trial and I¡¯d consider it.¡±


    ¡°Please. You know my father would never let you or anyone ¡°borrow¡± a weapon. Not when you all would just run off and break it immediately. You tend to keep your stuff in pretty good condition, but the same can¡¯t be said for everyone. And speaking of them, why are you so stingy when you don¡¯t even spend half as even the poorest of any of those drunkards?¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Stingy? I prefer to think of myself as financially intelligent, I¡¯ll have you know.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you call it, I know you got some money on you and nothing else to spend it on. Besides, they¡¯re just pieces of wood with a horrible exchange rate to real money, and you can always earn more later.¡±


    I chuckled and took my weapons out of their holsters and sheaths on my belt, placing them on the counter.


    ¡°Maybe when I decide to get out of here, I¡¯ll take some excess merchandise off your hands. For now, I¡¯ll just have you do the usual.¡±


    ¡°You know, even though I call you stingy, I guess you aren¡¯t that cheap since you still have me look at your weapons instead of learning to yourself. Most people don¡¯t even bother coming in until their stuff¡¯s almost broken, and that¡¯s just those who don¡¯t care about losing a fight,¡± she said the last part quietly, almost as an afterthought, and picked up my weapons, giving them a quick inspection as a depressed silence fell over us. Sometimes, talking about the horrors of reality makes them less terrifying, but sometimes the inevitabilities of life were a little bit too grim of a reminder. The silence remained as she took my weapons to the back to be repaired. The conversation picked up again when she came back.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t want to get anything new?¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s not such a bad idea,¡± I said after some thought and smiled faintly. She returned the smile and the two of us walked to the storeroom.


    There was a menagerie of weapons set out on shelves on the walls, with some heavier ones placed on the floor or propped against a wall. There was no order to any of the placement. Hammers were placed with swords were placed with maces were placed with daggers. It made it annoying if someone was looking for something specific, but for people like me, it was at least something to look at. I gave the room a quick scan, once again not seeing anything that stood out. I walked over to some shelves that had some one-handed weapons on them, but none of them looked that much better than what I was already using.


    ¡°They may not be like those made-to-order, damn near magic weapons the Cleaners use, but they¡¯re still high quality for what they are. I promise we don¡¯t charge that high of a markup.¡±


    I glanced back at where she stood, leaned against the doorway to the room, and laughed softly before turning back to keep looking at the shelves. There truly was nothing special to be found. Some of the weapons simply confused me. Knives seemingly too small to be used but without enough weight to be effective when thrown; double-ended swords that looked too impractical to be of real use; two balls held together by a chain; a big stick; a bladed mace that looked like it would break in a single hit. It honestly made me wonder whether the shop was truly trying to scam people or not.


    In a corner of the room was a pile of broken weapons that seemed to radiate sadness.


    ¡°Those are weapons we were able to recover after hunters¡­ you know. You can look through the pile if you want, but I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything worth taking. We mostly just have it there as a reminder.¡±


    I sighed and turned away, taking a final look over the room, then walking towards the door. She stepped back and turned, leading me back to the front desk. I left a few coins, one more than actually required to pay for the repairs and bade her farewell.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have your repairs done in a few hours. See you then.¡±


    ¡°See you then.¡±

 Part 5

    I walked down the streets of this old, dilapidated city again. This time, I walked towards the outskirts of the city. It was the duty of the hunters that chose to inhabit a city to protect and patrol it. Cities and forts were chosen to be placed at specific spots to maximize the chance of beasts encountering the fort first. People in the city and the fort were ordered to regularly swap positions in the attempt to keep their minds and bodies fresh. The reality, however, was that the replacements always showed up hungover or drunk. Instead of patrolling and resting while stationed in the city, they spent most of their time drinking, figuring that if a beast made it close to the city, someone would ring the alarm before too much damage could be done. The younger faces would do their duty and patrol, but would quickly realize how boring the role was, and would inevitably end up spending more time in the city or further out looking for something to fight. I chose the latter.


    The city was situated in a wide, flat valley with a forest between it and the fort. The chance of anything crawling its way over the surrounding mountains, despite being relatively low lying, was slim. It was just cold enough for the tops of the mountains to be covered in a blanket of snow at all times of the year, with a constant, howling wind thoroughly freezing anything that attempted to pass through. The gaps in the mountains were pelted incessantly by freezing rain, further making a journey through them even more miserable.


    I remember hearing, likely in someone¡¯s drunken ramblings, that the forest was a topic of contention during the building of the city. Some argued that it should be cut down to allow a clearer line of sight down the length of the valley to give the city more time to prepare in the event of a beast wave, while others argued that it would slow down any beasts that made it past the fort, preventing too many beasts from converging on the city at once. Additionally, it would also slow down only beasts when a fort was overrun, while hunters would know their way through the forest well enough to make it to the city well before the arrival of the beasts. After some arguing, the forest ended up being kept there.


    As I walked down the cobbled city streets, I realized I was soon to pass by the hospital, and the words of the barkeep replayed in my mind. My footsteps stopped. Something wasn¡¯t right in his story. The men had run for hours and had only arrived this morning. The timeframe was both too long and too short. Thinking this, I once again began walking, this time at a quicker pace.


    I knew that journey fairly well. It was something an experienced hunter could do in half a day, leaving at sunrise and arriving at sunset, or the opposite if they were insane. Since the men had arrived in the morning, the should have left at nightfall, but that would have been when the attack started, and they surely wouldn¡¯t have abandoned the fort at the drop of a hat. Another strange thing to me was his use of ¡°young men¡±. The man wasn¡¯t old himself, barely older than I was, in fact, so for him to call them young¡­.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    My thoughts trailed off as I arrived in front of the hospital, breathing a bit heavier than usual. I pushed open the doors using a little more force than I intended. They slammed against the inside of the walls, causing everyone to turn to stare at me, but I didn¡¯t have the time to care.


    ¡°Where are the runners?¡±


    ¡°Everyone here runs, kid, you¡¯ll have to be a bit more specific than that. If you¡¯re looking for a friend, I recommend waitin-¡° a nurse directly opposite me in the room spoke up first, but I was immediately annoyed by him not connecting what I felt were obvious dots.


    ¡°The runners that came in this morning! Where are they?¡± I shouted, suddenly feeling a rising anxiety. I approached the nurse that spoke up like an avalanche, grabbing his shirt and standing over him as he knelt next to someone pretending to writhe in pain on his cot.


    ¡°If I have to ask you again, I¡¯ll be asking for payment before I leave,¡± I quieted my voice down, not wanting to potentially panic everyone in the room, but I seemed to scare the nurse even greater than before.


    ¡°Ha-hallway to your right. Third door down is the room with the two survivors. Body storage is at the end of the hall.¡±


    I shot him a glare before rushing over to the hallway he mentioned. There were doors on either side of the hallway, finding myself increasingly annoyed by the nurse I questioned. I decided to check the one on the right first, and thankfully lucked out. Two bodies slept in cots, wrapped in blankets, with another nurse watching over them. She immediately stood up as I entered.


    ¡°The doctor has requested these two be left to sleep until they recover. If you wish to ask them about their report, you must wait until they wake up.¡±


    ¡°No need, I think I got all I need.¡±


    There were two boys lying in that room. Boys. Not men. One would be hard pressed to even call them young men. So young, I questioned whether they were even old enough to be allowed to come out here, not to mention being stationed at a fort. I rushed down to the end of the hall, feeling the urgency of the situation growing by the second. I reached the last door in the hallway; this time it was thankfully in the middle instead of on one side. When I walked in, I was met with the sickening stench of death and decay. There were a few bodies left on tables throughout the room. The walls were lined with slots for bodies, kept there while they waited for a member of the Clergy to read their last rites. The table in the middle of the room, right in front of me when I walked in, had the freshest body. There was a sheet draped over the body, with only the face showing out of it.


    I stood there for a second, closed my eyes, clenched my jaw, then turned and left, gently closing the door behind me. I walked quickly through the hospital, ignoring the confused looks of the nurses and patrons as I made my way back outside.


    Then I started running.


    I ran towards the town hall, where a record of everyone who entered the city was kept. As I ran, I pictured the face on that body, and a tear crept its way out of my eye.


    A boy, barely over a decade of age.


    Eyes stuck open; pupils seemingly exploded, dyeing both eyes completely black.


    Face twisted in horror, jaw ratcheted open at a nearly unnatural angle.


    The corners of his lips ever so slightly curled up.


    An image of an ungodly, unnatural, writhing mass of flesh one may call a beast burned into the bottomless darkness of his eyes.

 Part 6

    Strength in Weakness.


    Tenet of the Cult of the Night.


    Codified by the first Cardinal.


    ¡°A follower and worshiper of the Night must be well aware of what gives it strength. So ask yourself, what gives the Night its strength? Why are we pulled to it? What power does it posses that causes us to drift towards?


    Darkness is the absence of light, night is the absence of day, the void is the absence of anything. Despite being defined by their lack of something, all these things still have power. The Night, an all-encompassing mass of nothing, is suffocating in its endlessness. But how, you may wonder, can something with nothing be endless?


    I shall answer your question with one of my own.


    Can you ever find the end of something with no beginning?


    The truth, as you may have realized, is that there is no power in the night. It comes every day and leaves the majority of us unscathed. But it is with the Night that powers rise. In the absence of anything, something will always fill that space. Therefore it is up to us, the devoted followers and worshipers of the phenomenon we call Night, to give it power ¨C fill the void, so to speak.


    This tenet, this philosophy, does not solely apply to the night, an important fact for all to remember. There are times where weakness, or the apparent lack of strength, can be a strength of its own. Remember this teaching and even the lowliest of man can achieve extraordinary might, needless to mention those who are already strong.¡±


    ***


    In the town hall, I approached the attendant at the front desk.


    ¡°I need to see the mayor. I need to ask him more about the evacuation order. It¡¯s urgent.¡±


    ¡°You and everyone else today, it seems,¡± the clerk rubbed her temples, clearly exhausted despite the day only being halfway over, ¡°Everything is urgent and about the evacuation order. I¡¯ve been instructed to turn away the rabble that do nothing but complain, so you¡¯d better have something interesting to say or I¡¯ll call someone to throw you out of here.¡±


    ¡°If I had something to say about the boys that ran in this morning, would you take me seriously?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re here to complain about whether we can trust their testimony or accuse them of playing a joke on all of us, get in line. The mayor believes it, and that¡¯s all the authority we need to order you all to leave. I promise he¡¯s not just trying to clear out the town to take a few days off. This is truly for your safety.¡±


    The speech sounded rehearsed. I can only imagine how many people must¡¯ve stopped in to complain before they evacuated. Most people only ever saw the before and after of a beast wave, after everything had been taken care of and repairs had started. At the time, I had also never seen such a wave of beasts. Even if I had, I doubt my actions would have been any different. Sometimes, the events that unfold happen regardless of any changes made to the circumstances.


    I took a second to compose myself, taking a few deep breaths, and putting on a much more pleasant face.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to complain. I understand the circumstances and the difficulties you must have been through today. But, it is because of how well I understand the circumstances that I am here. I believe you all are missing something incredibly important about the situation that should be brought to the mayor¡¯s attention immediately.¡±


    She raised a quizzical eyebrow at me, clearly not believing a run-of-the-mill hunter could know anything the mayor himself hadn¡¯t realized.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Well, if it is truly that important, I suppose I could relay a message¡­¡± her voice trailed off as her eyes drifted behind me. Before I could turn around, I heard the voice of a jovial old man.


    ¡°I¡¯m free now, why don¡¯t you tell me yourself. Something even I missed must surely be of the utmost importance. I¡¯d hate to delay such important news.¡±


    By the time he had finished, I had turned around, ignoring the obvious sarcasm. Before me stood a short, pot-bellied old man with a pleasant smile and piercing yellow eyes in a black trench coat that reached just barely above the floor. He lent on a cane with his left hand while his right hand held a top hat he presumably had just taken off. A silver monocle rested over his left eye with a chain trailing into his breast pocket which shined nearly as brightly as his bald head. The only visible hair on the man was a great, bushy, white mustache, and thick white eyebrows. He stood barely five feet behind me, but I hadn¡¯t heard him approach, nor had I heard the door open either. In hindsight, I don¡¯t believe the clerk had seen him either, not until he was ready to speak.


    While his sudden appearance was a bit unnerving, I shook it off quickly and began explaining my findings.


    ¡°Did you ever see the boys that delivered the message this morning?¡±


    ¡°Yes, in fact, I just returned from the hospital they¡¯re recovering at. They were complaining of a strange man who had entered like a fierce wind and left just as quickly. He truly frightened one of the nurses there.¡±


    ¡°What would you guess their ages to be?¡± I asked, ignoring his jab.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t guess any of them much past a decade. It¡¯s strange how I don¡¯t remember allowing their transfer here, nor their stationing at the fort. I feel like I wouldn¡¯t have allowed such young children to be in such a dangerous position, but all the paperwork checks out. Truly unfortunate they had to experience something like this during only their third week here.¡±


    ¡°So, you have seen them? Then that makes this easy. Tell me, would a child of that age have the same capabilities as a man? You said they had only been here a few weeks, correct? So would they have the route through the forest memorized?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget that I am the mayor, son. I understand you¡¯re worried, but I can only excuse such a tone for so long,¡± he waited until I gestured an apology before continuing, ¡°As for your questions. Respectively, no, and I don¡¯t see why they¡¯d have much trouble. There¡¯s a clear route cut through it, with a number of side trails that all lead back to it. Even at night, it shouldn¡¯t be all that difficult as long as they have working eyes.¡±


    ¡°But what if those same children were scared shitless after seeing an entire fort of men, people they had been surrounded by for nearly a month, slaughtered before them? What if they were carrying their dead friend with them? I¡¯m no psychologist, but something tells me they might not be in a very observant mood.¡±


    ¡°So what are you trying to say? That those kids got lost in the forest? That hardly seems like something to be concerned over.¡± The pleasant expression had dropped from his face, but I could tell he wasn¡¯t annoyed. The dots had started connecting in his head as well.


    ¡°Let me add some more information. How long does a trip through the woods take?¡±


    ¡°A bit less than twelve hours, fort to city, give or take.¡±


    ¡°And how long would that take if they did just so happen to lose their way?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s impossible to be sure, but it could be anywhere from 18 hours to a full day, if not more if they decided to sleep.¡±


    ¡°And they would¡¯ve left when? Right when the wave started or when they were sure the fort was lost?¡±


    ¡°Sergei would¡¯ve ordered them to rush here as soon as he was sure the fort was lost. The man has never been one for caution.¡± I assumed that Sergei was the one placed in charge of the fort.


    ¡°How long would it take him to know the fort was lost?¡±


    ¡°He would wait until the last second, which means there are too many factors to get an accurate guess.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the worst-case scenario?¡±


    ¡°Worst case?¡± he thought for a moment before continuing, ¡°The timeline would be as such: the wave attacks first shortly after sunset, the fort holds for a few hours before Sergei realizes it¡¯s a lost cause and orders the boys to leave and probably makes final stand, the boys then leave immediately and rush here, and at some point they get lost in the forest. Since we know they arrived this morning, worst case is that they took over a full day to get here. That would mean the attack first happened two days ago. They wouldn¡¯t have moved on from the fort until they had wiped out everyone in it, which likely wouldn¡¯t take too long, even given how strong Sergei is. But, they wouldn¡¯t have left until nightfall and would be slowed by the forest.¡± He was essentially just thinking out loud to see if I could see something he missed.


    ¡°So, what does that mean when you put it all together?¡±


    ¡°It means, best case, sometime early tomorrow. And worst case¡­¡± he fell silent. In fact both of us had, for something had changed. The silence around us was deafening.


    Yes, silence. The rain had stopped.

 Part 7

    The Mayor¡¯s eyes, which had drifted downwards whilst he was thinking, turned back up towards me. They seemed to shine with determination and a hint of fear, a stark contrast to his previous uncaring expression.


    ¡°Worst case is that they¡¯re already here and we are in for a long day,¡± his gaze moved off mine as I realized why this seemingly carefree old man was made Mayor of this fringe city. ¡°Erin, run to my office and get my gun, then get yourself to the basement. Do not leave until someone comes for you, understood?¡±


    Upon receiving a worried nod in reply, he turned back towards me.


    ¡°As for you, hunter, I apologize for having you do this work for me, but no amount of hindsight and regret will help us now. You have two options. You either run like hell or fight like you¡¯re going there. I will be staying, as it is the duty of a Mayor to protect his city. I cannot make you stay, not since I was the one who gave an evacuation order, but I promise that if you make it through this, someone will make it worth your while.¡±


    ¡°Well, I had plans today, but I suppose I can put them on hold,¡± I said, flashing a quick smirk.


    ¡°I admire the courage. Now, go get your weapons and prepare yourself. We should have about half an hour, and I wasn¡¯t joking when I said this was going to be a long day. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have preparations of my own I need to attend to.¡±


    I gave him a farewell nod and rushed out the door, only to stop immediately upon stepping outside. There was not a cloud in the sky, already a stark contrast to the typical dark sheet, but what remained was not the bright blue splendor of a child¡¯s fantasies. It was like looking into a bottomless abyss suspended over the world. It felt endless, the longer I stared the smaller the ground I stood on felt, like the whole of my reality was a mere crumb of something before the maw of the infinite. Within the endless depths of this sky swirled vibrant patters which threatened to steal my consciousness. As soon as I tried to focus on just one part of this endless pattern, its dance would switch to a different part of the stage, swaying to a different rhythm. I quickly realized it was impossible to truly place my focus on any one part of this image, and pulled my sight away with great force, finding my vision to be unstable and my head to be throbbing.


    The shimmering sky cast an eerie light on the city. Normally, the city being illuminated during the day would be a reason for celebration, but given the circumstances, no one was celebrating. I can only imagine how many people were lost in just those first few minutes to those dancing lights. The weak-minded, half-asleep drunkards probably stumbled out of their bars to observe the phenomenon and immediately lost themselves to it.


    Collecting myself, I took off towards the Forge again, arriving in just a few minutes this time. A bit over an hour had passed since I left, and needless to say, the Forge attendant was surprised to see me back so soon.


    ¡°Back so soon? Did you finally decide to pick up something new or did you just miss me?¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Have you been outside? I need my stuff back, now.¡±


    ¡°He should¡¯ve just finished it up now, and no, I haven¡¯t been outside all day. What¡¯s happened?¡± she started for the back, indicating that she could still hear me.


    ¡°We¡¯re getting invaded. The timeline was off. Once I get out of here, close the doors and hole up. They¡¯ll hit at any time now.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s¡­ something. Huh.¡± she handed me my weapons and looked at me worriedly, ¡°And you¡¯re going to fight? We have room here if you want to stay.¡±


    ¡°No. I need to fight. It¡¯s my duty.¡±


    ¡°A hunter must hunt, eh?¡± she sighed, a bit more dejectedly than I expected.


    I put my weapons back in their place and gave her as confident of a smile as I could muster. Then I turned and waved goodbye over my shoulder, a part of me wanting to simply sit tight there and let the storm pass. But I felt a weird calling towards this fight. It was as though a small voice called to me through the hypnogogic veil, telling me that I needed to fight here, to throw myself into Fate¡¯s embrace  and ride the tide of destiny wherever it may take me by the end of the day. So I walked out the doors of the Forge and charged towards that fate, having no idea where it may lead.


    I ran towards the edge of town facing the forest, wanting to see the full approach of the horde. I had never seen a beast horde before; I had never seen the tide of nightmares as it flooded towards a city, seeking to wash away all remnants of the people who called it home. I didn¡¯t even know how to properly fight it, whether to wait for them to reach the town and try to pick them off one by one, or to meet them head-on out before the city. I knew that if they were to reach the city, even if we managed to somehow stop the horde, there would be significant damage and casualties.


    As I ran, the sense of worry and anxiety grew in my chest again. The idea of facing down a wave, a living, writhing tsunami of flesh and fear, was a frightful enough thought to turn my stomach. I had seen and fought the beasts individually before, and while not particularly hard to put down on their own, the concept of being swarmed by hundreds of them, squirming and clawing, was enough to send a shiver down most anyone¡¯s spine.


    Around the edge of town were watchtowers. As the begruntled man at the bar had mentioned, there was no wall built around the city, or even around half of it. As morbid as it was, the reason made perfect sense. If a wave hit the city, a wooden wall won¡¯t stop it; a tsunami wall only works if it¡¯s higher than the biggest wave. The watchtowers simply allowed for a bit of an early warning to be given, with each being equipped with a rather large bell which could project sound across the city. It wouldn¡¯t provide much time, but any little bit of preparation, whether it be mental or physical, could make the difference. That being said, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the sole purpose of the bells was to wake up anyone who was still asleep, so they¡¯d at least know how they died.


    I approached the nearest watchtower, not quite centered with the forest but close, and quickly climbed my way up the rickety wooden ladder on the outside, the sweat from my palms and the leftover rainwater making it even more nerve-racking than it already was. At the top, I was the only one there. Looking across at the other towers, I saw only a few had people in them, not that it particularly mattered, given the situation.


    I looked back towards the forest, only to see the shadows of the underbrush begin to move. Slowly, the line of shadows grew bigger, and I was able to make out what looked like a shimmer in it. I started ringing the bell in my tower and the other towers followed suit.


    As I stood there, nearly deafened by the sound of the bell, I failed to realize two things. Firstly, the boys had never seen a beast wave before this one. Secondly, the sky that appeared over the town that day only happens when the horde is able to distort the membrane of space that comprises reality.

 Part 8

    The shadow of the forest extended ever closer towards the city. As it did, a sense of fear began to take root in me. A deep-seated terror I had never felt before and would rarely feel again. Seeing that mass of writhing shadow, that tidal wave made of Nightmares and flesh, approaching the city which felt like the last holy bastion of the world in that moment, I felt my legs go weak and my will to fight waver. The ringing of the bell above me and the echoes of the bells through the city seemed to herald the end; the oddly pretty clanging of the bells, which I had always associated with a sort of holiness, stood in stark contrast to the unholy flood that rushed towards me, yet it did not seem entirely out of place.


    I noticed at some point that I had stopped actively ringing my bell, but it continued on its own. Looking across the other towers, I saw all the other bells continued to ring as well, despite no one being there to ring them. Even the towers that stood unmanned when we first took sight of the beasts were now ringing. Clearly, there were other people there that day who had experienced this before. I realized then that I was the only one who remained on a tower and how bad of an idea it would be to stay at this edge of the city when the wave hit.


    Just as I went to turn to make my way down the tower, I heard a thump and a grunt behind me. I turned to see a yellow-eyed, bowling ball of a man stood behind me with an ever-present jovial smile on his face. In his left hand, the Mayor still held his cane, while in his right he held a massive firearm which was rested against his shoulder. The thing looked to be nearly twice as long as he was tall, and whether that says more about the comedic enormity of the weapon or his short stature is a conversation best held out of range of his hearing.


    ¡°So, it turns out I was joking about this being a long day. A wave like this will hit us fast and hard. It¡¯s far beyond what I expected, but I suppose it explains why the fort fell. I was expecting a siege, but it looks like we¡¯re getting more of a cage match,¡± he turned towards me, ¡°Sorry, kid. If I had known what were in for, I would¡¯ve thrown people out of town myself and called your courage foolishness. Follow me.¡±


    Before waiting for a response, he jumped off the tower to the roof below and began to leisurely walk more towards the center of the city. I looked down at the near 20-foot drop and wisely chose to slide down the ladder most of the way before jumping off. A few pieces of the roof shifted or broke when I landed, causing me to lose my footing for a second. I looked to where the Mayor landed, only to see that spot had suffered no damage. Shaking off my questions for the time being, I hurried to catch up to him, finding that no matter how fast or slow I moved, he always seemed to keep the same distance between us.


    Looking down on the streets as we hopped from roof to roof, I saw only a few people rushing about. The city was as quiet as always apart from the cacophonous bells. Most people had likely decided to hole up in their homes, hoping the flood would wash around them rather than through them. The people running around were either preparing themselves to fight or trying to find a nice hole to hide in until the storm passed. Looking around me across the top of the city, I realized it was just the two of us up here, running somewhere unknown to me. I began to wonder what set me apart from the other people in the city. Why was it that I was up here, following the Mayor in the calm before the storm, and not running around confused on the streets below? What gave me the right to look down on these people like this?


    Eventually, the Mayor stopped running and I was finally able to catch up to him. We were stopped on a house near the edge of the city, directly in the center of where the beasts were to soon hit. A few rows of buildings stood between us and the wave. I assumed they had all been evacuated or abandoned, but I wasn¡¯t going to check them myself to confirm. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°So,¡± the Mayor declared abruptly, pulling me out of my thoughts, ¡°here¡¯s how this is going to go down.¡±


    He gestured out towards the oncoming wave.


    ¡°Within that group are what we call weak and strong beasts. The ¡°weak¡± beasts are the ones you¡¯ve probably fought countless times yourself, and they¡¯re what will comprise the majority of their numbers. Your best bet is to get one of them alone and take it out as quickly as possible, repeating the process until they¡¯re gone.¡± he shot me a serious look before continuing, ¡°The stronger ones are where this gets tricky. If you see one, just run away. I won¡¯t go into more detail, as it would only give you confidence. I need you to believe me here, which I know may be a hard ask given this is only the second time we¡¯ve spoken, when I tell you that you cannot take that fight. People stronger than you have tried and failed, do not believe yourself special. Do you understand that?¡±


    I gave him a nod, now significantly more worried than before.


    ¡°If possible, try to find me. I plan on staying up here, picking off the big guys as they enter the city. I sent a message back to the big city for some type of reinforcement, but I didn¡¯t hear back before the bells started ringing. That leaves me as the strongest person in this city, and to my knowledge, the only one who can deal with the problem nightmare-children. If you can, try to lure them to me, but don¡¯t get yourself killed. If you feel like the situation is hopeless, try to find somewhere out of sight to hide. Somewhere secret is better than somewhere secure, which you¡¯ll soon find out. No one will blame you for preserving your life, and neither should you.¡±


    He lowered the stock of his gun to the ground and gave me a quick pat on the shoulder, followed by a confident smile. He turned back towards the edge of the city, his hawkish eyes seemingly shining with the light of confidence. He switched his weight from his cane to his now-grounded firearm, and began to lift the cane off the ground. He gave it a casual swing in front of him, a strange action if not for what it revealed. A metal rope with countless blades forged into it struck out like a whip before him, extending at least twenty feet. Performing another quick movement, he caused it to coil up in his hand, which just so happened to fit perfectly in a space with no blades.


    It was at this point I realized there was much more to this short-statured man than I had believed. Such a carefree man held within him a boundless confidence and an, at the time, unfathomable strength. It felt in that moment as though he emitted some sort of pressure. His presence alone inspired more confidence in me than I had felt all day, but it was at that time that I realized this was the first time I had ever felt his presence. When he first stood before me in the town hall, even though I could see him and hear him speak, a part of me felt he was never there. When he entered, I heard nothing, and it was now that I realized it wasn¡¯t because I was distracted. When he appeared next to me at the watchtower, I hadn¡¯t heard him approach, and had only barely heard him arrive next to me. Thinking back, I realized he had likely jumped from the rooftop below us, intentionally letting me hear him land so as to not startle me too much.


    ¡°Why do you seem to place such care in me?¡±


    ¡°I liked the look in your eyes from the first time I saw you. I can tell there¡¯s more in store for you than potentially either of us realize. It sparked my interest, and I never doubt my intuition, not after everything I¡¯ve been through. Plus, there¡¯s enough death in the world already. Nothing wrong with trying to stop what you can.¡±


    He never turned back to look at me. He seemed to be comprised of an extraordinary calm and an otherworldly focus, completely prepared for whatever may happen over the course of the next however many hours. It was an image that stuck with me for a long time afterwards, and I¡¯d often find myself thinking back at that moment whenever I found myself lacking courage.


    I took a deep breath and turned, jumping to the next house over and beyond. There was no reason, in theory, for me to leave him in that moment. There was no reason I couldn¡¯t have waited for the beasts to come before going off to do what I had been instructed to. But I had a feeling that he no longer wished to see me, not until this battle was over. So I left, prancing my way towards a fate unknown.

 Part 9

    Soon, I stopped running. The unevenness of the buildings blocked the figure of the Mayor from my sight. Now, I was alone. There was enough of a gap in front of me to see out towards the edge of the city and beyond. The dark wave had gotten closer. From here, I could no longer see the outline of the forest in the distance. I did my best to ready myself physically and mentally, trying to maintain the courage I had just been flooded with, but I found myself unable to sit still.


    Jumping up a few progressively taller buildings, I ended up on a roof which provided me a better view of what would soon reach me. The shape of it hadn¡¯t changed since I first saw it. A dark, convulsing mass of shadow and nightmare which almost seemed to move as water. I knew that somewhere in there were individual beasts, Nightmares spawned of the void, but I found it hard to truly convince myself.


    These few moments before this battle, the calm before the storm so to speak, may have been the most nerve-wracking of my life. There was nothing I could do. I had no control over anything that may happen. What would happen would happen whenever it chose to, not a second sooner or later. I understood this fact, but it didn¡¯t lessen the anticipation. I was stuck here, facing a fight far beyond my capabilities, void of any control of my own situation, and this was something that deeply disturbed me. Always had I had the opportunity to do something else, to run from a fight, to walk away from this life as a hunter, but I had never taken those opportunities.


    In these moments before the battle, I contemplated on this mood, on the nature of choice and opportunity, and on what constituted free will. I found myself in a deeply unsettling situation as a result of countless choices I had made, but never had I been conscious of those choices. I was never presented with two outcomes and tasked to determine which was the best for me. I simply did; I took action for the sake of taking action. There was never a grander purpose to those actions. In a sense, I never chose to do anything. It¡¯s easy to say that everything can be broken down into action and inaction, but inaction itself is even a form of action. But there has to be a reason for this, surely; there has to be some purpose for these actions, even if I¡¯m unaware of it. But if I am not aware of the meaning of my actions, who is? And if there is someone who knows why I do the things I do, despite putting no conscious thought into it, who¡¯s to say I¡¯m even the one to choose? If there is a great, cosmic purpose my actions all point towards, will that change if I do or don¡¯t do something? If that purpose is unchanging, do I even truly make choices or have free will? How do I know that there is a potential future, a choice I could¡¯ve made, where I wasn¡¯t stood here?


    I didn¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know. I won¡¯t know.


    I stood there in my moody, contemplative silence until the sound of a growing rumble pulled me out of it. No matter what, I had my mission, my momentary purpose, and I wasn¡¯t about to forsake that. By now, the wave had approached close enough for me to make out some features of its constituents, but nothing I saw made me feel any less helpless. Limbs covered in matted black fur, eyes reflecting the iridescent light of the bottomless sky. Truly a horrible sight to behold and something I wished in that moment, as well as many others, I would never see again.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Then it was upon us.


    However, I immediately noticed something odd about the wave. As it reached the edge of the city, it seemed to thin. The innumerous beasts broke into hundreds and into tens, as though the whole scene from before was simply an illusion created out of my own fear. There was something about this change that gave me a weird feeling. Even though there were more Nightmares before me now than I had ever been faced with, the stark contrast the present image formed with the previous oddly set my heart at ease. At least until the first beasts to enter the town had nearly reached the house I stood on but the wave had yet to even slow. I couldn¡¯t even see the end.


    As the creatures made their way through the town, I saw them dive seemingly at random into houses and buildings, usually causing them to immediately collapse. If it didn¡¯t happen immediately, the seemingly random thrashing that would happen after would inevitably bring it down anyway. This action confused me until they got closer, wherein each dive was followed by a scream. As they got closer, these screams were preceded occasionally by the sounds of a brief conflict. As they got closer, the sounds of a fight and the screams were always silenced with a wet squish or a crack. I took a few steps closer to the center of the house I was on as the first of the beasts approached me. I prepared for a fight, but it chose to dive into a building next to me and was shortly followed by the usual sequence of sounds.


    More and more horrid animals rushed their way past me and further into the city, but none chose to attack the building I was on. I felt relieved by this, but also confused. All the beasts we as hunters fought had senses unnatural to us, strong enough to pierce walls or pick up on seemingly the smallest movement or noise from a near-impossible distance, and yet none of them noticed my presence. Their vision was possibly their only main weakness, but it shouldn¡¯t have been so weak they couldn¡¯t see me, even if they never specifically looked up. It gave me some much-needed confidence, but I was once again left with questions I didn¡¯t know when I would find the answers to.


    I began to form a plan of action in my mind. Clearly, I couldn¡¯t jump down and start fighting as things stood, but the inaction made me antsy. I looked back towards the edge of the city, seeing that the horde still seemed endless. I knew there had to be an end at some point, and that it would probably stop just as suddenly as it had started, but all I could do was wait. Looking around one more time, I figured all the houses with people in them had already been taken out, at least in the area around me. Taking a small run-up, I began another roof-jumping chain, headed deeper into the horde. If the end of it wouldn¡¯t come to me, I would go to it.


    I continued moving until I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks. In the midst of the rushing tide of shadows, one paced leisurely forward. It was bigger than the others, its limbs thicker, its fur darker, with an unsettling number of eyes nestled around its body. But it wasn¡¯t the sight of the thing alone that stopped me, no, but rather the fact that as soon as I saw it I could tell that it had seen me. Unlike the others that simply kept rushing underneath me, heedless of my presence, this one actually took notice of me. Seeing me stop, it too stopped.


    There was a moment we looked at one another, my two eyes locked with its many, the beasts parting around it like a tree stuck in a riverbed. I bent my knees slightly, preparing to move, and I saw its legs tense as well.


    I flashed a teasing smile at it before turning and sprinting with as much force as my legs could muster, once again rapidly leaping from roof to roof for what was only one of the first times of many to come that day. The thrill of it gave me a rush of energy that completely shook away any nervousness I had. At least, that was until I heard the sound of multiple buildings collapsing in quick succession behind me.

 Part 10

    The sounds of buildings collapsing behind me continued at an even pace as I ran, although it did seem to be getting uncomfortably closer over time. It was now a race between me and this Nightmare, which I assumed to be one of the ¡°big guys¡± the Mayor had brought up. I could hear it barrel through houses like their walls were made of paper, soaked by the previous rain. The only thoughts in my head were planning my jumps and looking for some potential way out, conveniently ignoring that every time I would do this during the duration of this wave, I would lose more and more houses to run across.


    The longer I ran, the more tense my nerves grew. At any time, this thing could be upon me; at any time, I could choose to stop and fight, hopefully surprising it enough to get the upper hand. I didn¡¯t know whether I had the ability to put it down, but I knew if this chase didn¡¯t stop soon, I¡¯d be forced to find out. Luckily, I wasn¡¯t too tired. I had always felt that keeping my stamina high would serve me well, as I still had the will to run from an unwinnable fight.


    Soon, as I began to think the next house I would jump to would collapse under me, exposing the open limbs of a waiting beast, I saw a small figure standing on a house in front of me. Only a few rows now separated us, and if not for their unevenness I would have seen him much earlier. I once again felt as though he was glowing, like a guiding light in the depths of a hopeless fog. As quickly as he appeared before me, I arrived before him and shot past like an arrow.


    I finally allowed myself to stop running on the house just next to where the Mayor stood. Without a word spoken, he swiftly turned to where I had run from and shouldered his flagpole of a gun one-handed. As though he had willed it, the beast that had been chasing me burst through the house the Mayor was facing, eyes locked fixedly on me still. So single-minded was its focus that I doubt it even noticed it arced directly over the waiting barrel the Mayor had presented before it.


    He pulled the trigger, causing a fist-sized projectile to shoot straight through the creature and continue over the city, landing only God knows where. The force of it was so great that rather than ¡°penetrated¡±, ¡°obliterated¡± would be a more fitting term to describe the resulting mass of flesh. It was surely a spectacular sight, but I was unable to see it as the concussive force had forced my eyes closed, knocked me backwards to nearly the edge of the roof I was on, and squeezed all the air out of my lungs. I simply laid there for a moment, desperately gasping for air.


    Eventually I stood back up and dusted myself off, looking at the Mayor with a sort of wonder I had never felt before. He remained on that roof, seemingly unphased. A circle of Nightmare juice surrounded him, with a convenient dry patch he stood in the middle of. He had the stock of the gun held between his arm and chest, the barrel pointed at the ground, and the back end of the barrel removed, held between his fingers. His whip-cane had been wound up around his free arm, which was reached deep into one of his pockets. After a short bit of rummaging, he produced a powder charge as big around as my forearm. He then tossed it into the air above him and pointed his now open palm towards the street below him, which briefly confused me until a piece of the cobblestone street shot into that open hand. He quickly stuck that into the open chamber of his gun, before reaching out and grabbing the charge out of the air, seemingly without even looking at it. Once that had been placed in the chamber as well, he placed the cap back over the chamber and gave it a quick spin. It seemed to automatically thread itself down onto the barrel, eventually forming a seal so perfect the seam simply disappeared. Despite its outwardly crude, simplistic nature, this simply action betrayed the level of craftsmanship that had gone into this weapon. Truly, it was fitting of someone like the Mayor.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Keep it up, kid. Bring me every one of those things you see and we¡¯ll get this taken care of hopefully by tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Rodger that.¡±


    I shook off my awe and darted off again across the rooftops, this time in the opposite direction. The next few, I¡¯m not entirely sure how many, hours passed in much the same way. I¡¯d run around the city for a bit until finding something big before luring it back to the Mayor, doing my best to lead them along the same paths I had already used. I also quickly learned to move away as soon as it was within range of the Mayor, so as to not have my eardrums rupture. Soon after this pattern started, I began to hear his cannon echo across the city more and more frequently, which I wasn¡¯t sure was a good or bad sign.


    Some time after the wave started, I¡¯d wager a few hours, the tide had begun to thin out. By now, the city was fully infested with these Nightmares, and it had become increasingly difficult for me to find the bigger ones. Every now and then, I¡¯d catch a glimpse of something I instinctively felt fear for, but I could never get a good look; always just a shadow in the corner of my eye that would seem to fade around a corner before it could be fully revealed before me. The more time that passed, the more I felt I was being watched, as though the shadows of the city themselves were keeping an eye on me. It was nothing but an illusion, I was sure, but I was also sure that there had to be something behind it. In the meantime, however, there was nothing I could do, so I shook it off and continued about my business.


    The number of stronger beasts eventually reached a level where I couldn¡¯t keep the same rhythm I had had while maintaining any degree of efficiency. I had grown numb to the thrill of being chased by this point, which allowed me to think more as I ran. I realized that we would have to start doing something about the ¡°small¡± Nightmares running amok in the city, but it was something I didn¡¯t particularly want to dive headfirst into. While thinking over this, I once again ran past the Mayor, putting some decent distance between us before circling back once I heard the shot.


    ¡°That should be the last of them, more or less, right? You¡¯ve been taking longer and longer every time you leave. Sorry to say it, but the time has come for you to get your hands dirty. But! Fret not, my young companion, for I shall join you on the ground!¡±


    We both smiled and chuckled while I conveniently ignored him seemingly reading my mind. He then turned and started towards the center of the city. I followed.


    ¡°By now, they would have found anyone who tried to hide in their houses. We¡¯re going to hold our ground in the square in front of the town hall. The more of them we fight and kill, the more will be attracted to us, so you shouldn¡¯t need to do anymore running around. There¡¯ll be some more of the big¡¯ns about yet, but I¡¯ll take care of them as they come. Still, you should always be on the lookout. As I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed, they tend to go for ambushes rather than frontal conflicts.¡±


    I had begun to grow nervous once again. It was a feeling I had grown used to not having, and I immediately realized how much I had taken it for granted. It wasn¡¯t much of an overstatement to say that not being on the ground had kept me alive, so losing my position of relative safety wasn¡¯t something I was particularly looking forward to. Nonetheless, I understood the purpose of it, and so I steeled my heart and pressed on.


    The two of us eventually arrived at our destination and jumped down from the rooftops, ready to stand in the flood and do everything we could to keep our heads above water.

 Part 11

    This was the third time I had been to this courtyard, the first being just after I arrived at the city and the second being when I rushed through it earlier in the day. A few buildings around it were destroyed, but it was in good condition overall. A simple yet pleasant fountain sat almost in the center of the courtyard with a slight bias towards the steps leading up to the town hall. The edge of the fountain was carved into the shape of a snake eating its own tail, with another snake carving curling up out of the middle of the fountain, a stream of water streaming out of its mouth. The courtyard itself was made of square-cut stones and was likely the most even part of the city.


    We stood in front of the fountain, putting both it and the town hall behind us. The buildings around us weren¡¯t built with much order in mind, meaning there weren¡¯t specific lanes for us to watch. We were going to have to rely on our reaction speed and our hearing to not be jumped, all while hoping these things didn¡¯t learn how to work together and attack us while we were distracted. As I was looking around, I felt a pat on my shoulder that mildly startled me.


    ¡°I masked your presence a bit earlier, which you may have noticed. I didn¡¯t tell you because people like to test how strong these things are, only to immediately be torn to shreds when they stand in front of something that can see their shadow. Its counterproductive now though, so I undid it. I don¡¯t plan on using you as bait, but that may be the way things turn out.¡±


    ¡°Well now I¡¯m not sure if I should thank you or not.¡±


    ¡°It certainly never hurts.¡±


    ¡°Then thank you for helping me stay alive and please don¡¯t sacrifice me for the sake of the city.¡±


    ¡°Well, I never said anything about a sacrifice, but I¡¯m sure I can work it into my plan if¡¯n you want.¡±


    ¡°You have a plan? I thought the plan was to just kill until they stop coming?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s pretty much it, with some other variables thrown in just in case. For you though, ¡®kill¡¯ is pretty much what I¡¯m expecting. Don¡¯t let me down.¡±


    ¡°Well, since letting you down means death in this case, I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    ¡°All we can ever do is our best, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    This sort of banter continued for a bit until we heard something approaching. After a few short moments of waiting, a ball of fur and shadow appeared between two houses along the edge of the courtyard, sprinting towards us the moment we entered its eyes. I prepared to fight while the Mayor simply stood there, seemingly uncaring. Eventually it reached us, and as I tensed myself for a fight, the Mayor struck out sideways with the back end of his hand-held cannon, putting a dent in what could be considered its skull and sending it bouncing across the courtyard for a few yards before stopping. No residue was left on the gun itself.


    I stood there dumbstruck, remaining in a battle-ready stance until I processed what I had just seen. Finally releasing the tension in my muscles, I turned to look at the Mayor, only to be met by a big grin.


    ¡°If anyone ever tells you you can only use a gun for shooting, just do that to them.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Not everyone can just ¡®do that¡¯, you know.¡±


    ¡°Eh, they¡¯ll get the point if you do it a few times. It¡¯ll at least be more effective than those fists you seemed to want to use.¡±


    It was at that point I realized I had never actually drawn my weapons. My face flushed with embarrassment as I took my sword and gun out of their sheath and holster, putting the sword in my right hand and gun in my left. Comparing them to the weaponry of the Mayor, I suddenly felt like I should¡¯ve spent more time seriously looking at the selection in the Forge. As he said though, it was still more effective than just using my fists. Thinking about the Forge, I realized I hadn¡¯t checked its condition at all today and made a note to take a look at it immediately once this was over.


    Turning my mind back to the present situation, I saw the Mayor leaning on his broomstick-like gun, his cane, if it could still be called that, remained wound up around his hand, seemingly unmoved from earlier. He radiated an aura of calm and confidence, which helped me greatly in dispelling my nervousness. While being appreciative of that, I realized that all the banter we had engaged in earlier, along with his joking, was all meant to ease my nerves. Thinking about that, my gaze towards him was filled with even more respect than before. Even during all the chaos of the past few hours, despite him dealing with things that could easily kill me, he still spared the effort to think about me.


    A short while later, the sounds of more things approaching reached us, and two beasts appeared at the left and right sides of the courtyard. The Mayor and I took one each. I took the initiative to rush towards my beast. As we were about to run into each other, I sidestepped to the left and jabbed my sword into the side of the beast, it doing my work for me as its momentum kept it moving forward, dragging my sword along the whole length of its body. It didn¡¯t cut very deep, but the length of the cut caused it to start to leak blood rather significantly. The added drag of my sword in it had caused its direction to turn, it now moving in between me and the Mayor. It was at this point I saw a black spot rapidly growing larger coming from the direction of the Mayor, and quickly withdrew my sword, diving off to the side as the flying beast collided with the one I had been fighting with a low thump. Standing up quickly from where I dove, I walked over to finish off the one I was fighting. It was struggling to get out from under the corpse of the other, so I simply drove my sword into its head region a few times until it stopped moving. Looking back towards the once again grinning figure of the Mayor, I simply chuckled and shook my head.


    The number of beasts coming began to ramp up after that, from two at a time to three to four to six, until they started to slowly keep trickling in rather than coming at once. The time in between for banter decreased to none, and the two of us became solely focused on dealing with the beasts. After taking out a few, I realized these beasts were weaker than the ones I had fought out in the field. They seemed to not have the same awareness as usual, running towards us with a single-minded focus, uncaring about their own lives. I couldn¡¯t complain too much, as it made my job much easier, but it gave me an uneasy feeling. This deviation from normalcy was something I had been experiencing all day, in one way or another, and it was starting to really bug me. There was nothing I could do about any of it, from the wave coming earlier than expected, to the feeling of being watched as I was running through the city, and now being rushed by completely mindless beasts. None of it was what I expected, or what I considered ¡°usual¡± given the situation.


    There had to be reasons for all of this, but for now all I could do was continue fighting. The pattern I fell into involved side-stepping attacks and retaliating at their sides until they became too weak to move, at which point I would rush in a deliver a final blow. It was monotonous and repetitive, something the beasts would¡¯ve normally started countering after seeing their fellows fall to it, but it continued to work so I continued to do it. Over time, my sword began to dull, so I put it away and switched to my mace before it became completely useless, now targeting limbs to immobilize them before smashing their heads in.

 Part 12

    This fighting became a slog worse than running around on rooftops before long. There was a slow enough trickle for the fighting to not be too difficult, but this ease became mind-numbing before long. It was as though we sat in the drain of a large basin, a faucet above us turned just slightly. We couldn¡¯t rest, but neither would we get the adrenaline boost from a big fight, and from a more morbid angle, it wouldn¡¯t end quickly. I¡¯m sure the Mayor was faring better than I was, the knowledge that I could always fall back on him improved my psyche greatly, but we kept a good distance between us so as to not get in each other¡¯s way.


    It continued for hours, long into what should¡¯ve been night, but the sky showed no change, the other-worldly illumination remaining as a constant presence above and within the city. I continued to refrain from looking up as best I could, although my eyes would occasionally glimpse some movement which they¡¯d instinctively dart to, only to briefly swim and cause me a headache. Thankfully, this would never distract me for too long, and refocusing my attention back towards the threat at hand would clear up any ill effects. The presence of only weaker beasts meant I could afford these momentary lapses without too much of an issue, although it still was something I should be avoiding, especially when considering that something stronger could show up at any time.


    There had been nothing but small fry until now, but I remained on guard for anything bigger. The two of us had taken out a large number of them before descending into the horde, but I was sure we hadn¡¯t gotten all of them. Although we had been fighting now for hours, we had only killed hundreds of beasts while there were thousands that had entered the city. The grounds of the courtyard were littered with dark corpses which had already begun to decay, but thankfully didn¡¯t produce the awful smell of rot. That being said, perhaps decay isn¡¯t the best word to describe the process their corpses were undergoing, but rather dissolving. Puddles were forming and slowly combining underneath each body while the flesh seemed to break off into little pieces which would float through the air. None of this happened quickly, the bodies dissolving being the ones that had been laying there for hours, not that it meant any of it was normal. Much like with everything else that had happened that day, ¡°normal¡± seemed to have been tossed to the void a while ago.


    As the Mayor had said, the rate at which more things crawled towards us continued to increase, but it wasn¡¯t as fast as I had expected, and if I had to guess from the way he phrased it, it wasn¡¯t as fast as he expected either. It was as though they were trying to wear us down slowly. This was strange to me, and I imagine to the Mayor as well. The fort was taken likely in a night, and while they may have gotten unlucky with timing or preparedness in some way, it was still a testament to the force of this wave. It also meant that they weren¡¯t relying purely on numbers to take us down, acting more like a spear than a hammer. But they were now displaying the exact opposite behavior of what would¡¯ve let them take down the fort so quickly . Once again, it was something I wanted to get to the bottom of, but I simply couldn¡¯t given the situation. This constant worrying an thinking was draining my focus as well, but any answers I could come up with could help us greatly, so I continued thinking.


    We continued fighting.


    As time went on, more and more bodies piled up. There were now knee-high rings of corpses around the two of us. The ring around me was a good bit smaller than the Mayor¡¯s, but I didn¡¯t have the strength to throw these things to the other side of the courtyard as he did. Even though I noticed this, I didn¡¯t worry about it too much. By now, I had almost forgotten about the existence of the larger beasts, or at least assumed they wouldn¡¯t be joining in this scuffle. I estimated we should¡¯ve been about a quarter to a third of the way through the beasts in the city. I was getting tired.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Then it happened. One of the remaining buildings on the side of the courtyard nearest me seemed to explode in a shower of rubble as a great shadow came flying out, landing directly in my little arena. Without wasting a breath, it directly rushed towards me. I once again side stepped, a movement which had pretty much become automatic at this point, but instead of continuing forward like the others, it immediately struck out with its limbs on its side opposite me, hitting the ground hard enough to crack it and propelling itself into me. I didn¡¯t have time to guard before it hit me in the chest, knocking most of the breath out of my lungs. What remained was forcefully expelled when I collided with the corpse wall behind me.


    I gasped for breath immediately, inhaling an unsettling amount of airborne Nightmare bits. My back half was now soaked in the liquid they were dissolving into as well, making me significantly more miserable. The beast didn¡¯t rush me again, instead choosing to menacingly walk towards me as I struggled to stand. Perhaps it was enjoying my fear in that moment, especially after seeing so many of its weaker siblings felled by my hand. I eventually regained my ability to breathe and stood up, still struggling to regain all the air that had abandoned me. Seeing me stand, it decided to stop its torment of me.


    Seeing it start to tense its limbs, I prepared to execute the plan that had formed in my mind. I could tell it wouldn¡¯t put all its power into this lunge, fully expecting me to be too weak to move. My left hand tightened its grip around my little shotgun. Our gazes met, one of many times I had looked these things in their myriad eyes today, and it moved. I raised my gun and kicked off with my legs, propelling myself to the side. Just before I moved, I pulled the trigger, peppering those eyes with a large number of small stone pebbles.


    I just managed to dodge out of its lunge as it crashed headfirst into the corpse wall, toppling the top half of it. I moved in, now ready for a fight with something stronger than I had ever truly fought. It quickly shook itself off and turned back towards me, blackish-red blood streaming out of many of its eyes. I didn¡¯t stop moving, directly taking the fight to it to stop it from rushing me again. Now that it would take me seriously and put its full power into its attacks, I knew dodging it when it rushed me would be simply impossible. As I moved, I swapped my gun for my sword, not having the time to reload.


    As I arrived before it, I used a quick burst of speed to close the remaining distance and smashed towards its head-area with the mace. It immediately leaned slightly to the side and moved to flank me, towards my non-sword hand, while striking out with one of its limbs. I jumped away from it, redirecting the mace towards its side while bringing the sword around to strike at its extended limb. The mace struck first, and I used the backwards force to gain a bit of distance. I luckily didn¡¯t misjudge the trajectory of the limb and directly hit it with my sword, leaving a deep gash in it, going nearly halfway through. The impact left my arm numb and almost made me drop my sword. My feet skittered a bit when I landed, but I regained my stability quickly and once again made a move towards it.


    This time, I attacked sword first, targeting the upper part of one of its foremost limbs with a simple thrust. It wasn¡¯t an attack I expected to be super effective, its purpose being simply to gauge its reaction to a different attack. However, its response defied anything I had envisioned. It forcefully stepped towards me, directly taking my sword in a non-vital spot, before viciously striking out at my chest, once again sending me crashing into the corpse wall. I¡¯m sure I had at least a couple fractured ribs, something I lamented briefly while trying to regain my breath again. The attack was more targeted than before, so while it cracked a rib or two, it didn¡¯t quite wind me the same. I was back on my feet much faster, although my breaths were noticeably more painful now.


    I readied to attack again, not knowing how much longer I could last, knowing it was now life-or-death. Just as I was about to move, a massive, thunderclap-like sound echoed from the other side of the courtyard and the front half of the beast before me disappeared.

 Part 13

    "People talk sometimes of a bestial cruelty, but that''s a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel. The tiger only tears and gnaws, that''s all he can do. He would never think of nailing people by the ears, even if he were able to do it."


    <ul>


    <li>Fyodor Dostoyevsky</li>


    </ul>


    ***


    I stumbled backwards a few steps before catching myself, then took a moment to rest, bending over with my hands on my knees. I looked at the Mayor with a face of exasperation and mild annoyance.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have done that any sooner?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t stop myself from asking, but even as I voiced my complaint, I could see a mangled corpse, similarly sized to the one I just made before me, laying near the feet of the Mayor. It may have even been a bit bigger than the one near me, although I didn¡¯t have complete bodies to compare.


    ¡°Figured you could use the experience. You did pretty well, a solid seven out of ten I¡¯d say. Good enough to deserve a break. You can go rest in the town hall for a bit until you catch your breath. My secretary is a decent Cleric, so if you¡¯re injured go see if you can¡¯t find her.¡±


    ¡°And leave you alone to fight everything?¡±


    ¡°I should be able to handle this myself for a while, but I¡¯ll give you a holler if I need some extra help.¡±


    Waving me away, he turned around to face more oncoming beasts. I straightened myself out and began making my way towards the town hall. The sounds of some fighting came from behind me, at which point I realized I hadn¡¯t actually seen how the Mayor had been fighting. Thinking of this and seeing no reason to resist my urge to watch, I turned around to watch him fight for a bit. I was amazed by what I saw. He was fighting with his whip-cane, quickly whipping it out towards specific parts of beasts, where it would wrap around them and cut through them with terrifying ease with just a small tug from the Mayor. If it landed on thicker parts, it wouldn¡¯t directly cut all the way through, but the gashes it would leave were deep enough to put anything out of action. He would also use the gun as a club if anything got close while his other hand was occupied. One sight was terrifying due to its visceral technicality, the other due to its sheer brutality.


    ¡°I think he¡¯ll be fine on his own.¡±


    Muttering to myself and laughing a little at my own needless worry, I turned and continued towards the town hall. The building had suffered no damage, as if it had been blessed with some sort of divine protection. That, or the beasts simply couldn¡¯t detect anyone inside. Walking in the front door, I was met with nearly the same sight as earlier today, now missing a certain overworked secretary. There were two hallways on either side of me, with no indication of which one I should pick. I chose the one on the left and began to make my way down it. One side of the hallway was lined with windows, the other with doors, left open.


    Every room was void of people, so I continued forward, quickly reaching the end of the hall, where it curved towards the right and ended at a staircase. Staggered lanterns lined the walls on either side, dimly lighting a closed door at the bottom. I descended the staircase, arriving before the door. I knocked a few times and opened it, a room full of shelves with stacks of papers and books coming into my view. Near the back of the room was a desk stacked high with more papers, a gap in the middle revealing the blonde-haired secretary.


    ¡°Erin, right?¡±


    She looked up at me briefly, barely sparing me a glance before returning to her work.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have something you should be doing right now, or is bugging an already overworked mayoral assistant a pastime of yours?¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I noted how she didn¡¯t seem to be surprised by my appearance, nor did she seem at all worried about the situation of the town.


    ¡°I¡¯m actually here to bug a Cleric I was informed was here, who I assume is you, given that I haven¡¯t seen anyone else in this building besides the two of you.¡±


    I started walking towards her casually, taking time to look at the shelves around me. Some of the stacks had labels on them, although most were mundane things, such as town financial reports and copies of building permits. There were two that caught my eye in the short time I spent looking, one labeled ¡°Hunters¡±, the other labeled ¡°Weapon Shipments¡±.


    ¡°I politely ask that you don¡¯t go snooping through town documents, if you don¡¯t mind. It¡¯s all boring anyway, nothing to concern yourself with.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re still working, given the situation.¡±


    ¡°This room is completely soundproofed from the outside and I¡¯m the only one left in the building. There¡¯s no reason for anything to come in here, so I don¡¯t see why I should be worried.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not exactly what I¡­ never mind. I have a few broken ribs I¡¯d like to not be broken.¡±


    ¡°Alright then. Come here.¡±


    She finally looked up from her work and put down her pen. She stood up and picked up her chair, walking out from behind the desk, placing the chair in the center of the room¡¯s walkway.


    ¡°Come. Sit. Let me work my magic.¡±


    I did as instructed, sitting in the chair and taking my now Nightmare-fluid drenched cloak off and draping it across my lap. She stood in front of me and stretched her hands out, placing them just above my chest. She closed her eyes and her face scrunched up a bit in focus. After a short time, her pale hands began to glow a faint, pale gold, gradually growing a bit more intense. Other than that, nothing seemed to be happening, until I felt my cracked ribs begin to move slightly on their own. It was generally unpleasant, but not outright painful. After it felt like they were all back in place, an itch began to form around each spot where they had broken, and gradually became more intense. I fought my urge to try to scratch at my ribs, knowing the feeling was coming from the bone itself and not wanting to interrupt the healing process. A short while later, the itching began to fade and she pulled her hands back, her face returning to the pleasant indifference of before, although she seemed to be a bit paler.


    ¡°You¡¯re good to go now. Try not to get too beat up in the future. If any of your ribs had broken into your lungs, there would¡¯ve been nothing I could do to save you. The area is too delicate to work on, especially while you¡¯re conscious.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t plan on it, but I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±


    She nodded and circled behind me. I stood up and threw my cloak back over my shoulders. Turning around to say thank you, I saw that she had already returned her chair to its spot behind the desk and was already back to work.


    ¡°Thanks for the help. It¡¯s nice being able to breathe properly, you know?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Get back out there. If something happens to him while you¡¯re wasting time in here, I¡¯ll be blaming you.¡±


    I gave her a quick smile and a nod, even though she had her head down in her work and likely didn¡¯t see me. However, there seemed to be a faint smile on her face, although I could be mistaken. I walked back through the room taking one last look at the shelves, now from the other side. The only one that caught my attention this time was a stack labeled with abnormally fresh-looking ink: ¡°Transfer Orders¡±. Like before, I didn¡¯t stop to look through it. I was curious, but it was none of my business and I had something I needed to get back to.


    Leaving the room, I made sure to close the door behind me. As I did, I felt the presence of the room change slightly. It was a weird feeling, almost as though it wasn¡¯t there; had it been like this when I first arrived here, I might have completely ignored the door. I shook the feeling off and walked back up the stairs, coming back to the hallway I had walked through previously. Looking out the windows into the courtyard, I saw the Mayor continuing to fight just as I had last seen him. It reminded me of how long we had been fighting and how much longer we were likely going to have to.


    I finally came back to the courtyard and started running back towards the area I had been fighting in previously. As I ran, I readied myself to fight once again, finally taking the time to reload my gun which had been left empty until now. I was ready to fight once again, now more refreshed than before, although in the back of my mind I had determined that if I saw one of the bigger ones again I would immediately run, rather than try to fight.


    ¡°Glad to see you back and hopefully less broken than before. I¡¯d reckon we¡¯re about halfway, now, so be on guard for- there you are, you bastard!¡±


    As he spoke, his head snapped around to the side, locking on to something out of my line of sight. He kicked the ground and shot off into the distance, leaving me thoroughly confused, facing down the couple beasts he had been fighting who looked nearly as confused as I was.

 Part 14

    The beasts he had left quickly ignored their former target, who had just disappeared from in front of them, and turned their attention toward me, regaining their single-minded focus I had become used to. I ran around for a bit, dodging their attacks and weaving through them while dealing damage to specific ones. After a short while of this, I managed to deal with the ones that had been left over and was luckily granted a break from the usual flow.


    I looked around, double checking that the coast was really clear before making my way towards the fountain and sitting on the edge of it. I took in the carnage around me. Black, dissolving corpses were littered throughout the front half of the courtyard, the two rings we had formed while fighting were nearly completely covered in a thin layer of this Nightmare-juice. There was a haze beginning to form in the air over the battlefield, comprised of the airborne flakes of these creatures as they decomposed. So far, I hadn¡¯t felt any ill effects from it, but it wasn¡¯t the most pleasant thing to breathe in.


    As I sat there, the sound of fighting from a ways off eventually made its way to my ears. The primary sound was rubble being tossed around and the few still-standing buildings being gradually demolished, which implied that there wasn¡¯t much actual contact being made between the two combatants; more than likely, one was running from the other. The town was otherwise abnormally quiet, meaning this noise echoed throughout this whole area. This near-cacophony combined, the phosphenic sky, the mostly destroyed town, and the decaying masses of flesh surrounding me created a truly dreadful image.


    I sat there looking at this, thinking of all the effort we had put in to get to this point. So much death and it had yet to finish. We, or rather I, had killed so much in this day, and I wondered what gave me the right. I was still alive after all of this, even after admittedly almost dying a few times, and I didn¡¯t know why I was unique. Fundamentally, I wasn¡¯t much stronger than any of these things on their own, much less when they were in a group this large, and as had been proven, there were many that were much stronger than I was. Yet I had directly been involved in killing many of these and I remained alive. It surely couldn¡¯t have been pure luck, could it? Not for this long, surely? At any time, one more thing could¡¯ve come running out of somewhere, outside my periphery, and that would¡¯ve been it for me; at any point, I could¡¯ve slipped on one of the stones that made up the courtyard, and it all would¡¯ve been over. During any one of the fights, I could¡¯ve missed a swing and lost my balance, and that would¡¯ve been it; during the fight against the big beast, had it decided not to gloat and simply gone for the throat, as a beast rightly should have, that would¡¯ve been it.


    For what was a result of my own actions, I could explain it as my own skill. Even though I may not have been the best, I was confident I could at least be consistent. But for everything else? There were so many things that were out of my hands that could¡¯ve happened that simply didn¡¯t. To put it very simply, I got lucky. Thinking of this, I realized that rather than having multiple points at which I came close to death, it would be more accurate to consider this whole day as being close to death. For the last several hours I had been sprinting atop the thin wall that separated the waking nightmare from the infinite dream, teetering between the pure light of day and the abyssal night. The times I had felt I got close to dying I had simply lost my balance for a moment. This idea left me conflicted. I was of course happy to still be alive, but a part of me felt it was undeserved, like I hadn¡¯t done anything special to earn this gift, not when so many men and beasts alike had fought just as hard as I had and still ended up dead.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    But I had fought, too. It would be a lie to say that I hadn¡¯t fought for my right to live, even if I didn¡¯t feel that I had necessarily fought hard or well enough. They had fought and lost, I had fought and won. How much luck factored into any of the situations was impossible to know. Fate, if this is what it was, was incalculable, as many who had tried to calculate it had proven. Meanwhile, I was nowhere near as equipped as those people, so any speculations towards fate I may have had were just that, so I pushed it out of my mind. What was, was. There was no changing it now, for better or worse. Time continues forward and us along with it. I decided to try to only focus on what I knew for certain, and that was comprised of two things: I had fought to the best of my ability, and I would be dead if not for the Mayor, and by proxy Erin to a lesser extent.


    Thinking of the Mayor again, I began to wonder what he had gone running after. Clearly, it had to be something important for him to drop everything else to deal with it, but I simply didn¡¯t have enough information to go off. His exclamation implied that it was something big, maybe not in size, but I got the feeling that whatever it was likely had a big impact on this event as a whole. I felt like I didn¡¯t need to worry about him, as he seemed like someone who wouldn¡¯t throw himself into a situation he couldn¡¯t handle, but a pricking anxiety began to form in the back of my mind, nonetheless. At some point in this, he had become a sort of rock for me, a solid point to cling to amidst this rushing flood. Not being able to see his ever-confident visage that made it seem like everything was under his control began to make me feel like it truly wasn¡¯t, a feeling which wasn¡¯t entirely wrong.


    Thankfully though, the sounds of the chase kept on in the background, meaning he continued to live. Given the echo, it was hard to pinpoint where they were exactly, although I got the impression they had circled me a number of times, and that they were gradually moving closer. Soon, that feeling was confirmed as one specific occurrence of the echo made itself louder than the others. It continued growing louder, and I stood up, realizing there was a decent chance they would end up back at the courtyard. It continued growing louder, eventually starting to drown out the echoes of it, and I began to grow anxious in anticipation. It was coming in at an angle, not straight on from any one direction, meaning it was hard to judge how close they were exactly, and how much time was left until they¡¯d be upon me.


    The buildings that remained were scattered but were offset in just the right way to block my view deeper into the city in any direction. Being essentially blind and only being able to hear something approaching heightened my anxiety. I continued to listen closely, trying to gain as much information as I could, when the noise suddenly tapered off, stopping at some point behind one of the few remaining buildings around the courtyard. I readied myself.


    Suddenly, the sound of rubble moving briefly and the solid thump of a hard object hitting flesh resounded, followed quickly by the sound of multiple walls being broken through. Soon, less than half a second after the sound of the impact, the center of the wall of the building on the edge of the courtyard exploded outward, a small black mass coming out with it and landing a short distance away, bouncing a few times before stopping. I lifted my gun towards it, but it didn¡¯t move. Keeping the barrel pointed towards it, I looked through the hole left in the wall, seeing several more walls with similarly sized holes leading back to a grinning, mustached face. He jumped, landing on the roof of the building before jumping down into the courtyard next to me.


    ¡°Little shit gave me a good chase. Flighty and feisty things, incredibly annoying to deal with because there¡¯s nothing they avoid more fervently than a frontal confrontation.¡±


    I looked at him, then looked down at the thing that was only a bit bigger than a cat, although significantly more grotesque. The skepticism was evident on my face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that, now. They¡¯d give even the fastest sprinters you could find a good run for their money. It¡¯s called an Angler, and you can consider it to be the leader of a beast wave.¡±

 Part 15

    I once more looked down at the little thing that had just been briefly turned into a missile, wondering how it could possibly ¡°lead¡± what amounted to a natural disaster.


    ¡°Notice how everything stopped running towards us as soon as I kicked this thing out here? They respect and fear the strong. Just the smell of this thing is enough to scare the little guys off.¡±


    I looked around, quickly noticing he was right. The endless onslaught had stopped at some point, and after playing back events in my head I realized it had stopped right after he had darted off. I kicked myself mentally for not being observant enough to notice that.


    ¡°How do they ¡®lead¡¯ the other ones, like you said? It¡¯s not like they can talk, and if they can that¡¯s absolutely terrifying.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. They can¡¯t talk. They just use a sort of mind control, so nothing much to worry about.¡±


    He chuckled. I did not find it as funny as he did.


    ¡°Does it work on people too?¡±


    ¡°Not that I know of, but I¡¯ve been alive far too long to rule something like that out. Maybe someone especially weak-minded could be influenced by them, but that person would need to have the same level of willpower as the lowest level of beast, and even then it would only be a weak influence; a suggestion in the back of their mind. This is what causes the brainless behavior you¡¯ve probably noticed by now. When controlling so many beasts and also trying to remain unspotted they can only exert so much control. It generally seems like they just give a kill order and rely on sheer numbers to get the job done.¡±


    ¡°So this little guy was responsible for the ambush earlier then?¡±


    ¡°No, actually. There¡¯s a reason I specified that their control only works on weaker things. The two-pronged ambush was likely set up by the two big guys on their own, or they did it independently and it just happened to line up. Now that I say it, that actually seems like the most likely option. The stronger things are, the less likely they are to work together.¡±


    ¡°Huh. Good things to know, I guess. Would¡¯ve been nice to know them sooner.¡±


    ¡°And to what end? You couldn¡¯t hunt one of these things down on your own and knowing more about what was happening would have only made you more nervous and kept you from focusing on the task at hand. Let me make one thing clear, I don¡¯t particularly want to see you dead, but the main reason I¡¯ve kept you alive is so I don¡¯t have to take care of this whole thing myself until backup arrives. So, forgive me for not telling you something you didn¡¯t need to know when we were already pressed for time.¡±


    A few moments of awkward silence passed as we looked at each other and the ruined city around us. I suppose a part of me had known what he just confirmed, but another part of me didn¡¯t want to believe it. It was nice, despite all the chaos around me, to think that I was helping; believing my presence mattered, even in a small way, was a part of the reason I kept going, continuing to fight despite the seemingly hopeless situation. Then my eyes unfocused as I realized something.


    He had manipulated me.


    The entire time, from the very moment he met me on the watchtower, his goal was to use me. My only purpose was to make his job easier. He had the ability to hunt down all the big beasts in the city on his own. He had the energy to fight this out to the end without any help. Even now he hadn¡¯t even broken a sweat. He intentionally radiated a confident aura to make me want to help on my own, even without his urging. All the information he gave me was to make me rely on him, making me think I needed to follow his orders to make it out of this. He intentionally displayed his strength in front of me to keep my faith in him high. He had no reason to show off as he did besides to make me want to help him. He had the power to take care of this whole thing alone, and that was what unsettled me the most, terrified me even.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    He still chose to use me.


    He had the focus to spare to think of how to get me to do exactly what he wanted without me realizing, and actively chose to do it despite having no need to.


    But I suppose I should feel flattered in a way. He still chose to use my help despite not needing it, and he more than likely saved my life by doing so. Was it really such a bad deal? At the end of the day, I was still alive. His purpose in using me was to stop this wave from washing through the more populated areas further down its path. He didn¡¯t make much of an effort to save this town, but there wasn¡¯t much he could do to begin with. He had told people to leave, and some didn¡¯t. He could¡¯ve tried to save the people that were left, but to what end? Where would they go? There was no escape, and the morbid truth was that there was a reason they stayed. There is no use in trying to save someone who doesn¡¯t want to be saved. Besides, I wasn¡¯t any better.


    ¡°Things should start slowing down now. There are still undoubtedly a lot of things running around the city that need to be taken care of. You can either start cleaning stuff up or take the opportunity to leave. I wouldn¡¯t blame you if you wanted a break after all this.¡±


    His voice snapped me out of my daze and forced me to put my worries away for the time being. What had happened, had happened. I¡¯d have a chance to think about it more at some other point.


    ¡°I wish the town didn¡¯t get this beat up but stopping them is good enough. I suppose this is why they put me here, huh? I swear, making an old man like me do all this¡­ I need a drink.¡±


    While he rambled to himself, I took another look around. The air over the courtyard had become even more hazy now, and a thin layer of black liquid was now seeping into nearly every stone. It had become quiet, desolate.


    ¡°So that¡¯s it then?¡±


    ¡°Yep, that¡¯s it. As I said, hard and fast. Waves are like this sometimes. They can end just as abruptly as they start. That being said, it was a bit shorter than I expected. Guess that has to do with me finding this little bastard when I did.¡±


    He gestured towards the black blob of meat a short ways away from his feet. I once again looked at it, failing to pick out any discernable features besides a few long, spindly limbs extending limply out of its core. There was something off about it that unsettled me, but I couldn¡¯t place it. At this point though, there had been so many things that made me uncomfortable that adding one more to the list hardly mattered.


    I looked away, my gaze briefly passing over the Mayor who was now lost in thought, mumbling to himself, before coming back to the courtyard. Something about this image of death and strife made me unable to pull my eyes away from it for too long. The lights in the sky occasionally reflected on some of the particles in the air, making the air shimmer faintly. The corpses piled in various locations were now thoroughly melded together. In another few hours it would be hard to tell they were once living beings, not that they had clear features to begin with, besides limbs and eyes. It irked me that all evidence of them would at some point disappear while all the damage they caused would remain.


    The shimmering of the air gradually grew stronger as the two of us stood there, thinking. I realized I could no longer clearly see the other side of the courtyard. The haze was thick enough to make me want to cough just from looking at it. It almost felt like everything had decayed faster in these past few minutes of us being lost in thought, but I can¡¯t be sure how long we were stood there.


    ¡°So, what will you do now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go see if there are any survivors and start making a log of the damages done. I¡¯m still the Mayor after all. I still have a job to do, and I¡¯m a man of honor. I was appointed to this town and, whether I like it or not, its my responsibility to ensure it remains standing¡­ well, mostly standing.¡±


    He flashed another one of his confident smiles. It no longer sparked the same emotions in me as before.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do.¡±


    ¡°I could use an extra hand if you can stand being around here for a while longer.¡±


    ¡°Maybe¡­ maybe.¡±


    I smiled weakly and looked around again, lost. My gaze drifted down towards the body of the Angler again. It hadn¡¯t started to decay yet, which I found strange. I assumed it either hadn¡¯t had enough time or that a higher-level beast like it maybe wouldn¡¯t decay as fast as the weaker ones.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t mention that the stronger things don¡¯t decay as fast as the weaker ones.¡±


    I voiced my thoughts in a semi-joking manner. I was confused when I saw his confident grin freeze.


    Then there was a black flash that streaked across the bottom of my sight, immediately followed by another passing just behind the Mayor.

 Part 16

    The body of the Mayor twisted and spun, getting tossed a few feet away, his massive gun going spinning off in the distance, visibly shifting the air as it flew. The bottom half of his left leg was mangled, staying attached only by what could be described as a miracle. Dark red muscle was exposed in several spots, bone in several others, and it was all quickly drowned in a tide of dark red blood. His right shoulder seemed to have exploded, his arm hanging on only by what remained of the muscle, tendons, and skin. A large gash extended from that shoulder down to the middle of his back, stopping just before the spine. Several ribs could be seen at various points along its length, but compared to the two other wounds, it seemed almost tame.


    I stood there stunned, not knowing what had just happened or what to do. One second, he was standing in front of me, jovial as ever, the next he was laid out in a growing puddle of his own blood, the only sign of life being his still-moving chest. In the peripheries of my vision, his attackers stood opposite each other. My vision slowly panned from one to the other.


    There were now two Anglers in front of me, flanking the Mayor.


    A fear began to seep its way into my bones. These things were far more cunning than a beast had any right to be, cunning enough to be able to fool even the super-human senses of the Mayor and carry out a simultaneous attack without being discovered until the moment they moved. But the thing that truly shook me was the explosive power they had demonstrated. I had yet to see the Mayor even suffer a scratch from anything we had faced, and yet these small things one may easily miss in a flood of lesser beasts had been able to nearly kill him in an instant. And to top it off, they still chose to run more often than not, if given the chance.


    There was an abyssal chasm in the hierarchy of these creatures, and this was just my first taste of it. The knowledge that the next step up from something I could just barely fight on equal terms with was able to kill me before I was even aware of its presence was disturbing, to say the least. While I was thinking, the two Anglers were looking intently at each other, occasionally making strange noises, seeming to be communicating in some way.


    This four-way standoff continued until the still figure of the Mayor finally twitched and started to move. He let out a long groan and sat up, reaching an arm around to feel the wound on his back while looking at his legs.


    ¡°You just had to hit the good one, didn¡¯t you? Little shit.¡±


    He laughed, finally looking up, his eyes meeting mine. There was a trace of exhaustion that made me worried, but most of his confidence was still there. He looked to his right at the one that hit his leg, raising his hand in the image of a gun and miming a firing action. His bladed whip was still wound around his arm, but even with its length he was too far away for it to even be worth trying to strike. It was clear that he was still dazed by the blow, but he seemed to be gradually recovering.


    He shook his head to clear the last bit of fog but froze midway through a rotation. His head then slowly turned to his left, his eyes locking onto the second Angler.


    ¡°Two? There are two? But how¡­? How can there¡­ unless¡­. Kid, you need to leave. Now. Out of the city, if you can. This is no longer something you can or should take part in. If you stay, it¡¯ll be nothing more than suicide.¡±


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    His eyes, filled with a seriousness I had never seen and a hint of panic, locked onto mine. He had realized something about the situation I had yet to. I was confused, wondering how two creatures could impact the situation this much. I hesitated to move.


    ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°Just go. I need you out of the way. The less variables there are for me to track, the better. Now go.¡±


    I was conflicted, not wanting to simply leave him, but unable to forget how he had used me. I¡¯m not sure whether I didn¡¯t want him to die, or whether I simply didn¡¯t want to be the reason for it, even indirectly. Eventually, though, I chose to leave, shaking off my last bit of hesitation and sprinting towards the back of the city. I ran through the twisted, winding streets, passing by countless buildings in varying states of demolition. The scale of destruction was immense, but there were rarely two buildings directly next to each other that had been destroyed. I thought about what each of these buildings meant, feeling better seeing the staggered destruction, but the more I ran and the more piles of rubble I passed by, the more I realized how many people hadn¡¯t made it out.


    Every now and then, I would pass one of the beasts remaining in the town, but they¡¯d quickly give up the chase once they realized they couldn¡¯t catch up. I didn¡¯t encounter any of the bigger ones, which made me wonder if the last two we had killed were the last two in the whole of the wave. There was only a slim chance, but hope had quickly become a scarce commodity, and any I could find was welcomed with open arms. I continued sprinting until I popped out onto what could be considered the main street of the town, leading out towards the edge only a short jog away. My pace slowed a bit, but I continued moving relatively fast until, eventually, I had left the confines of the town, stepping onto the soft dirt road just outside.


    I continued running for a short while in a daze, a strange feeling growing stronger the further away from the town I got. It was anxiety-adjacent but couldn¡¯t be described as just that. I stopped moving and turned to look back at the town, seeing that nothing had chased me. I was free to go, to escape this nightmare that had descended upon me suddenly, but for some reason, doing so felt wrong. There was worry, there was regret. Neither was my primary feeling, but I couldn¡¯t place what that feeling was. But all I could do now was run, and so I turned and I ran. I kept moving, knowing that the more distance I could create, the safer I would be in the future, once the wave moved past the town.


    Eventually, the run slowed to a job, which slowed to a walk. The strange feeling I had continued to grow stronger, but it seemed to stabilize once I reached a certain distance and slowed down. I once again turned around, this time not stopping. The town loomed between me and the horizon, having grown noticeably smaller while it¡¯s presence somehow remained the same. It was one more thing I was unsettled by, but I shrugged it off and turned back around. Now though, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I was chained to the town, like there was something latched onto me, not strong enough to slow me down, but attached just strong enough to make me unable to ignore its presence.


    I eventually came upon a forest. There was a path cut through the middle of it to make way for the road, but the dense canopy blocked what little light there was from gracing the road, making it look as though the road simply disappeared a certain way into the forest, leading into an endless abyss. I knew there to be no danger in the forest, nothing worth worrying about anyway, but I still decided to rest for a few minutes just outside it. I moved just off the road and sat on a small boulder nestled nicely in some foliage.


    Before I could even start considering my next steps though, a few voices lazily waltzed out of the forest road, immediately stealing my focus and putting me on edge.

 Part 17

    I was surprised there were people out here, and their seemingly carefree attitude immediately made me wary. They had no care for the noise they were making or who might find them, meaning they were either very confident or very stupid. Or both. Either way, there was a good chance of trouble. I could have avoided them, skirted around the edge of the forest and watched as they passed, but my curiosity got the better of me and I stayed where I was.


    Soon, a group of six leisurely walked out of the shadows of the forest. Three of them, all male, walked in front of the rest, talking and laughing back and forth. Behind them stood two women, who occasionally added to the conversation or laughed at their jokes. Behind them was one final person, a noticeably younger man who trailed behind the rest, eyes cast downwards. There was nothing specifically which indicated he was male, but I instinctively knew it somehow. He was noticeably more unkempt than the rest, a cloak over his shoulders dragging on the ground behind him as he walked, his feet dragging every few steps. His hair was disheveled and dirty, something not unexpected for hunters who had been out for a while, but it seemed out of place when compared to the rest of the group, all of whom looked as though they were about to head out for a pleasant afternoon in some fancy part of a city.


    I was off the road only a small distance, with no significant concealment, so they naturally saw me soon after they left the borders of the forest. I locked eyes with the foremost man, who seemed to be the leader of the group. They stopped talking and we simply observed each other for a short moment. Eventually, the leader of the group smiled and took a step forward.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to find someone this close to the town, did you not evacuate when you were told?¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond immediately. The group behind him passed some comments between themselves, treating the situation as a form of entertainment.


    ¡°Well, you can stop worrying now. We¡¯re on our way to your little town now, so the problem is as good as solved. I¡¯m sure you know who we are, so you can be confident in your saving.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t catch that. Can you say that again?¡±


    ¡°I said I don¡¯t know who you are.¡±


    The man¡¯s plastic smile twitched, the talking behind him stopping immediately as they all adopted ridiculing smiles. The man then laughed and regained his composure.


    ¡°I guess it was presumptuous of me to assume someone from a middle of nowhere town like this would know much about the world. We are an elite group of hunters, trained in the finest facilities of the capital. Many of you people call us ¡®Cleaners¡¯, but I prefer the term ¡®Solvers¡¯, as we fix the problems you people let get out of hand.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay. You seem a bit late, though.¡±


    The hunters I was accustomed to were a dreary bunch, simply not caring enough to be even a little haughty. This one, however, and I assumed the group as a whole given their reactions, was a complete inversion of this attitude, and I found it just as entertaining as they were hoping this interaction would be. Their reactions, in particular, made it even more entertaining, as they didn¡¯t seem to know whether to laugh at their leader¡¯s misfortune or be angry at me for treating them like normal people.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Late? What could you possibly mean by that? We were already packed and ready to go by the time we were given the order. There is no group that could¡¯ve possibly made it here any faster than we did. I¡¯m sure that this little problem will disappear as soon as we get there, and you¡¯ll soon be thanking us for saving your worthless little town.¡±


    He turned and walked back to his posse, who were now all smirking at me. The one in the back had kept his head down through the whole exchange, uncaring for one reason or another. I watched as the group welcomed their leader with praise and mockery pointed towards me, and while they weren¡¯t speaking loud enough for me to hear them clearly, I did pick out words like ¡°cretins¡± and ¡°fodder¡±.


    ¡°Well, your job seems very important to you, so I¡¯d hate to keep you any longer. You all can leave now.¡±


    Their conversation abruptly halted as they all turned to look at me with disdain, nearly in unison. I could tell their leader wanted to make some more comments, but before he could, one of the group members stepped forward and said something quietly to him. He then smiled and nodded, before taking one last look at me and laughing scornfully.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. No need for us to waste our time here anymore.¡±


    And with a few more snide comments, they were finally off. They left at the same leisurely pace they arrived with, none of them even sparing me a final glance. The one behind them stayed still for a bit before he started moving as well. After taking a few steps, he stopped again, turning slightly to look at me. He kept his head lowered for a time, his slightly curly, dirty hair hanging in loose strands, blocking what little I could see of his face. He eventually did look up, allowing me to finally see his face.


    His hair was draped over most of the right side of his face, with a convenient gap around his eye. He looked young, much younger than I expected, and yet there was age to his visage, his countenance, that unsettled me. It was the face of someone that had seen things far beyond his years; it was the face of someone who had experienced more pain than someone had any right to in their lifetime. Despite this, his lips, thin, pale, and cracked, were stretched into a faint smile. There were large, dark circles nestled under his eyes, looking as though someone went at him with a piece of charcoal. But cradled atop these dark nests were a pair of eyes I would never forget. Pools of tar amidst a field of bloodstained ash. He had seemingly no iris, his pupils seemingly stretching to fill the space. His sclerae were streaked with a countless number of red cracks and what wasn¡¯t red seemed a dull gray. But while the outside may have been impure, a far cry from the pristine white one would expect, the rest was simply unfathomable. So deep, so pure was this blackness that even the untainted night sky would be hard-pressed to compete; like windows into an endless abyss from which nothing could escape. The depth in those eyes was hypnotizing, threatening to steal my consciousness even with only a brief glance.


    ¡°We¡¯re moving, Tagalong. If we have to stop to wait for you again, it wont just be one finger.¡±


    The voice of one of the men from the group, now a decent ways up the road, called back, drawing my attention back to the present. The young embodiment of pain before me simply looked at them, looked back at me, once again smiled softly, and started slowly plodding in the same direction as his group. I merely sat there, trying to process the thoughts in my head. I couldn¡¯t understand how someone seemingly so young could give off this type of feeling.


    But it was those eyes I truly couldn¡¯t get out of my mind. They were simply unnatural, something that no person should ever have. And yet, there they were, on a person who looked nearly the same age as I was.


    I simply couldn¡¯t imagine how different our lives must have been.

 Part 18

    I watched the small group slowly get smaller and smaller, moving towards the shadow on the edge of the horizon. There was something about it that drew my gaze to it, making me not want to look away. But with some effort, I did, and looked back at the road leading into the forest. There seemed to be a hole in reality stuck within the trees, the road leading directly into it. The trees and foliage surrounding it were dense, almost unnaturally so. It was a foreboding sight, to say the least, and something I wasn¡¯t particularly inclined to waltz into. I remained seated on my rock, looking down at my feet and hands, mind blank.


    I sat there for a while, replaying the events of the day in my head. All the fighting, all the running; all the anxiety, all the stress. I realized that I wasn¡¯t even sure if it was still the same day, as my mind had been preoccupied with far more important things than keeping track of time. I was tired, but not especially so. My eyes almost seemed to refuse to close, wanting me to keep staring and thinking.


    The previous interaction played through my mind a few times. I continued to find the arrogance the group had displayed humorous, especially considering I felt no threat from them. I was sure that fighting them would be a lost cause, but I refused to believe the difference between us was too great. They had better equipment, something I only noticed in hindsight, but for some reason I felt like they wouldn¡¯t be able to use it to its fullest. Then again, my standard of reference was the Mayor, someone who seemed to embody the word ¡°abnormal¡±.


    I wondered why I hadn¡¯t warned them about the two Anglers, nor told them about the Mayor and his desire to eliminate potential distractions. Perhaps there was a bit of malicious intent behind it, a subconscious desire to see them humiliated, just as they had tried to humiliate me. But the interaction didn¡¯t last very long, and they were eager to leave, so I convinced myself that I would¡¯ve told them had I had more time. There was a part of me that felt bad about it, as any harm that would now come to them could be considered my fault, but it was water under the bridge at this point. Nothing I could do would change the past, so I pushed the matter out of my mind.


    At some point, I decided to lay out my weapons before me. The signs of battle were obvious on all of them. The head of the mace was chipped and dented, the handle slightly bent. The sword was ever so slightly twisted, with most of the edge being either chipped or dulled. The gun naturally fared the best, having been barely used. Looking at these things, I began to wonder how I had even made it as far as I had. They looked about to break, like any random beast could prove one too many for them. I sighed, knowing there wasn¡¯t anything I could do about it. Of course, if I didn¡¯t have to fight, it wouldn¡¯t be an issue, but for some reason this possibility didn¡¯t seem very likely to me.


    I sat there, my eyes moving between my weapons, my hands, the shadow of the town looming in the distance, and the deafeningly silent forest beside me. I was wrought with indecision. I could keep moving forward, putting everything behind me, the state of my weapons becoming a non-issue. I could go back, back into what could very well be my death with my damaged weapons. Neither felt like a good option, so I sat there, clinging to my rock. My eyes continued shifting between the two ends of the road, which only served to worsen my indecision.


    Taking a deep breath, I decided to look up. I had refrained from looking at the sky for the past who-knows how long, not wanting to get distracted, but now it didn¡¯t matter. Above me, the iridescent sky met with a wall of clouds in what felt like a near perfect line. Looking at this, I finally realized that I was at the very edge of whatever sort of strange influence the beast wave had. Just a few steps into the forest and I would be completely out of it, and it would be fully behind me. This did not help my indecision.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    As I stared at the sky, my mind split between the two options, a feeling of anxiety began building in me. I began to worry over something unknown. I looked to the forest once again, and a feeling of fear began to mix in with the anxiety, while looking at the town off in the distance made the anxiety grow worse. The time had come for me to make a decision and I wasn¡¯t yet ready. I had no way of knowing what outcome was in store for me on either end of the road.


    But thinking of this made me realize that there was some certainty at one end. I could see the town, and I knew a fight awaited me. It would likely be a hard fight, and it could very well be a fight I wouldn¡¯t survive, but I would at least go down fighting. It was a respectable ending. The road into the forest, on the other hand, seemed to simply disappear. I had no way of knowing what awaited me within the darkness, nor what I would be walking into on the other side of it. But what I did know was that if I decided to walk that path, I would be abandoning the town, abandoning the Mayor, and abandoning that strange person and the arrogant bunch that dragged him around. I knew, somewhere deep inside me, that this wasn¡¯t true, that the preservation of my own life should come first, that our fates were in no way entwined, but for some reason I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of abandonment and my hatred of it.


    So I finally made my decision and picked up my weapons, returning them to their places. I took one last look into the gaping maw of the forest before setting off back towards the town. I started off walking, which slowly turned into a jog and then into a run. The anxiety I felt looking at the town, the shadow blanketing the horizon like an ancient monster, hadn¡¯t gone away, in fact growing worse the closer I got. But there was a strange feeling mixed in with it, like this was what I was supposed to be doing. No matter how much I didn¡¯t want to face this problem, no matter how much I wanted to turn and run the other way, no good would come of it. In one way or another, I had become wrapped up in this thing, and I needed to see it to its conclusion.


    For some reason, it felt as though I had made a very important choice. It felt like I was choosing to do something I had never done before, something I had always avoided before this point, but I knew this to not be true. At least, that¡¯s what I believed. Thinking of it more, I realized that I wasn¡¯t sure if I had ever tackled something like this head-on before. Whenever I was faced with an immense struggle, I felt as though I had always run or shifted the responsibility onto someone else.


    Dealing with a small fight was one thing, something I had done before and something I had full confidence in being able to recreate, but not every fight was like that, this one included. It was natural, I think, to feel worried, fearful even, when faced with something you don¡¯t know if you¡¯ll be able to handle. But it was a good anxiety, something born for a clear reason, and something that would go away once that reason similarly faded. It was a fear that could be easily faced with great difficulty.


    At some point in my mad dash towards the town, my mind went blank and all I did was run. There was nothing more I could do to prepare myself. Whatever was going to come would come, and I would face it as it did. I resolved myself to this, and as the town grew larger and larger in my eyes, the anxiety I felt finally began to fade.


    I soon found myself just outside the town again, where the dirt road met the cobbled streets. I didn¡¯t stop running, soon reentering the place I had only recently left, but now with a newfound resolve, the determination to see this to the end, whatever that may be.

 Part 19

    Passing through the entrance of the town, it felt like I had walked into a swamp. It was all in my head, I was sure, but it felt like the air suddenly became thick. I figured it had to have been there the whole time, most likely growing stronger and stronger from the time the wave hit the town, and I simply hadn¡¯t noticed it until now. Continuing to walk into the town, I once again became accustomed to the mental swamp.


    My dash slowed to a walk as I thought about my next steps. I had come here with only a rough idea of what I wished to accomplish. The Mayor was injured last I saw him, and while I had faith in his ability, the state he was in likely would have killed a weaker man. Somewhere, probably running around aimlessly, was the group I ran into earlier. They should have had some ability, given their position, although I felt that their arrogance would lead them into a bad situation, assuming it hadn¡¯t already. Then again, maybe they had already learned how to turn that aspect of their personality off when they needed to. In any case, I was sure to find out in short order.


    While thinking of them, and while walking towards the courtyard where I expected to find the Mayor, my mind drifted back towards the person trailing behind that group. He was out of place, clearly, in more than one way. He didn¡¯t seem to me a person who would stick to a group like that out of choice, meaning that there was some set of circumstances forcing him into it. There was a clear lack of confidence in his demeanor, almost comedically so, given the contrast with is companions.


    But the lack of confidence was purely external. I knew this, not through some sort of deduction or an ability to read body language, but by something much simpler: I felt threatened by him. None of the group, despite their confidence, made me feel any sort of threat. There was nothing special about them. Their ability likely wasn¡¯t lacking, but there was nothing special about it either, reminiscent of the hunters that spent their nights blacked out and bent over a table in a bar.


    This boy, which seemed to be a more fitting term for him than ¡°man¡± given his soft features, on the other hand, had something special about him. He was outwardly tired and seemingly oblivious to what was going on around him, but the entire time he stood before me, I felt like there were invisible hands hovering just barely above my skin. At the time, I thought it was just my unease at being approached by the group of insufferable individuals, but the feeling stayed even after they had walked off, and only truly faded once that boy turned his back to me. And what truly unsettled me about this phenomenon was that I don¡¯t think it was at all intentional. It is my firm belief that he was not putting on an act to leave potential enemies off guard, but rather that his ability, whatever it was, was constantly active and ready to meet any challenge. The group acted like nothing could threaten them; the boy could not be threatened.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The streets I walked down were empty. Most of the buildings lining this main street were untouched by the beasts, as people who lived in them were largely more temporary residents of the city, meaning that they little incentive to stay in the city after the evacuation order was issued. Even though it was a main street, it twisted enough along its path to prevent a sightline of the town hall and the courtyard, which was at roughly the center of the city. I could¡¯ve jumped up onto the rooftops as I did before, but I wanted to take a bit more of a thorough approach in case something was waiting in ambush.


    Eventually, collapsed buildings became more common than standing ones, and I could catch glimpses of the courtyard through gaps in the remnants of walls. A thin gray dust hung in the air in places. The city was silent apart from settling rubble, but as I approached the ring of buildings around the courtyard, I could faintly hear the sounds of combat in the distance. It didn¡¯t immediately and with a loud bang, so I assumed it to be that Cleaner group and not the Mayor. How they ended up on the opposite side of the city though, was a bit confusing. My guess was that they ran after a beast and got a bit lost, but for all I knew they were getting paid by the hour and wanted to extend their time here as much as possible.


    I stepped over one last collapsed building and the thin gray fog was replaced by the black miasma which still hung over the courtyard. A few scattered piles of flesh were all that remained of the hours-long battle from earlier in the day. I realized unfortunately late that there was a black liquid covering most of the ground of the courtyard, which I only noticed when my footsteps sounded a bit wetter than usual.


    I walked through the courtyard at a faster pace to get out of the aerosolized beasts. It hung just over where we had been fighting and was gradually thinning out as I approached the stairs leading to the town hall. Walking up the first few steps, my head cleared the upper limits of the cloud, and I could breathe comfortably once again. I didn¡¯t get much time to savor this relief though, as after a few more steps, I reached the top, and the town hall was in front of me again. Sitting before the town hall in simple wooden chair, a young woman stood offset just behind him, was the Mayor.


    He had told me to leave, I remembered at that moment, saying that it would be suicidal to stay. I suppose that in the time that had passed since then, I realized that I would rather gamble on living with the possibility of dying knowing I had done everything I could, instead of running from one unknown future into another.

 Part 20

    Regulations on the designation of a ¡°Hero¡±.


    Excerpted from the internal staff guidebook of the Church of the Serpent.


    Written by the Pope at the founding of the Church.


    Another one of our duties, as the general keepers of order in our society, is the designation and classification of the ¡°Hero¡±. Heroes serve a few important roles, which in many ways parallel our own objectives. They provide people with a concrete representation of security; the common man has no reason to fear a monster when he knows a Hero is nearby to slay it. They provide inspiration to our fighters; seeing a shining example of what a single human to do, people are motivated to try and reach the same heights. And of course, they serve the very practical role of effectively being one-man armies.


    It is therefore incredibly important for us to be exceedingly careful in who we designate as a ¡°Hero¡±. First and foremost, their character must not be in question. We must not have another Dreamwalker situation. Secondly, they must have strength. This may be an obvious criterion, but its importance can not be understated. A Hero must be more than simply a stand-out in terms of ability; they must perform better than nearly everyone else. Thirdly, and finally for this preface, a Hero must have deeds associated with them. For some, it may only take one event, for others it could take upwards of a dozen, but the fact remains that we must be able to prove to the people that this person is worth putting their faith in. The more impressive the deed, or the more numerous, the easier it will be to make people believe. Of course, these deeds also serve the purpose of showing us the skill of these would-be Heroes.


    One final important mention before the specific criteria are discussed: exceptional ability can be demonstrated in many ways. As will be discussed, you mustn¡¯t be one sided in your appraisal of an individual, as there are times when exceptional skill is demonstrated in mundane ways.


    ***


    ¡°And the prodigal son returns! Or something like that, anyway. I told you he¡¯d be back, Erin, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you did, Sir.¡±


    ¡°And just like that, he¡¯s back. Maybe I should retire and become a fortune teller.¡±


    ¡°Given the events of today, I don¡¯t believe that¡¯s the best course of action, Sir.¡±


    ¡°Always the spoilsport, you are, but you do have a point. This wave has not progressed like I thought it would. Things have fallen into a precarious situation, and I only have two-thirds of my limbs to deal with it.¡±


    His tone drifted from carefree to serious as he spoke. I largely ignored his banter, finding his clerk¡¯s subtle change in mannerisms interesting. She was just as serious as she had been when I spoke with her, but the formality she addressed the Mayor with was interesting to me. I felt that it went a bit beyond what one would expect from her position, and I wondered what he had done to make her so reverent.


    Silence fell between the three of us for a time. I stood still, one hand resting on the hilt of my sword, almost hidden by my cloak, the other hung limply to my side. The Mayor sat in his chair, his cannon leaned barrel down against his right thigh, his hand resting on the stock just behind the trigger well. His bladed whip was placed coiled around the left post of the chair, leaving just enough room for his head to lean back. Erin stood just behind the whip, her hands clasped loosely in front of her and her eyes lightly drooped. Her confidence in the Mayor was clear.


    I took a few steps forward, stopping once I reached a good speaking distance.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you¡¯re still alive.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be without her. Or maybe I would be. I¡¯ve seen people live through worse and die from less. Such is how the gears of fate turn, so to speak. Everyone has their purpose, and nothing will rip us out of this life until we¡¯ve fulfilled it. I choose to take this as a sign I have I yet to fulfill mine, but that makes me wonder about you.¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were being serious about the fortune teller thing.¡±


    ¡°Pah! I¡¯m not trying to guess your future, kid, just wondering why you¡¯re still alive. I swear I never saw you until this morning, before you so kindly came barging into, well, here, actually. There was nothing special you did before now, no particular impact you made on the city, and yet you remain standing here now. I¡¯ll ask you, how many people do you suppose died today? What percent of the people in the city do you think are still alive?¡±


    ¡°Which question do you want me to answer? I¡¯d say a few hundred people died but there¡¯s probably a few still alive, maybe ten or twenty percent of the people who didn¡¯t run.¡±


    ¡°Nine.¡±


    ¡°Nine percent? It¡¯s a bit low, but it¡¯s not too bad-.¡±


    ¡°Nine people remain alive in this city. Of the people who didn¡¯t evacuate when first ordered, I¡¯d say a couple hundred, us three are the only ones left. A group of six turned up a short while ago and started picking off the stragglers.¡±


    The figure stunned me. The city wasn¡¯t exactly bustling, but it was nowhere near abandoned either. On an average day, I¡¯d pass by at least a hundred people, and that¡¯s just in the small part of the city I frequented. I took a moment to turn around and look out over the city, letting myself truly absorb the scale of destruction. The area in front of me led to the edge of the city that stood on the forefront of the wave. A portion of the view was blocked by pieces of still-standing walls, but the path of destruction was clear even despite that. It spread out in a cone converging on the courtyard. Nearly every building in the center line of that cone had been reduced to a simple pile of rubble. Moving out from there, broken but still upright walls became more frequent, and eventually the piles of rubble became dotted with houses. Nearly a quarter of the city had been flattened in just this area in front of me. Suddenly, it began to seem like a miracle that even the three of us had lived through this. A part of me felt that I was only alive because I had left, even if it was only for a short time.


    ¡°So, what do we do now?¡±


    I turned back around and locked eyes with the Mayor. I could go around picking off the beasts that remained, but by this point, there weren¡¯t enough to be an issue, either here or back towards the more populated areas. Even if they found their way to the nearest true city, Aarkile, the guards would be more than enough to deal with them. If they were all that was left, there¡¯d be no issue, but I wasn¡¯t worried about them.


    ¡°Well those two little shits are still running around somewhere. The hard part will be tracking them down, but if you two can flush ¡®em into this courtyard, I can just put a shot into them and they¡¯ll stop being an issue. Now that we know there¡¯re two, it¡¯ll be harder for them to catch us by surprise. But it¡¯s precisely that what worries me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve already lost both legs, what¡¯s an arm at this point?¡±


    ¡°Oh, very funny. I¡¯ll have you know that I still have half a leg that works. I only lost two-thirds of my legs. But it¡¯s not those two specifically that worry me, but rather what they mean. Let me ask you, do you know how waves work in terms of the beasts?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t they build up beyond the Edge until they effectively get squeezed out?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s more complicated. A wave will always have a leader ¨C one beast smarter and therefore stronger than the others. This one will gather a group over time until it figures it has enough to take out the nearest thing, which is almost always a fort nowadays. This gathering of the beasts can be seen by the people just outside the Edge, which is usually how a warning gets issued. As more get gathered, less come out. There¡¯s a hierarchy with the beasts; the common beasts and the slightly stronger beasts you saw today are just the lowest rung of the ladder. In order to form a wave, they require some sort of leader. Now, we got unlucky in that respect as this wave was led by an Angler, which is a special type.¡±


    ¡°Hold on. What¡¯s special type?¡±


    ¡°Unimportant right now is what it is. I¡¯m expositin¡¯ right now, don¡¯t interrupt me. But to put it simply, they¡¯re a rung up on the ladder, but have more brain than brawn. Usually, Anglers command formidable waves compared to the normal ones, and we were unlucky enough to be stuck with two of them. This is the point that worries me. Like I said, there¡¯s a hierarchy. These things do not work together. I once saw two waves start fighting each other because two Anglers came out of different spots but decided to attack the same fort. With that being said, what do you suppose would make these two work together?¡±


    ¡°Something stronger¡­ or something smarter.¡±


    ¡°Bingo.¡±


    A seed of anxiety sprouted within me. I had already seen the tactics and the speed employed by the two Anglers, and the idea of something stronger and smarter than them lurking somewhere in the city was highly disconcerting.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s controlling the Anglers then?¡±


    ¡°Dunno.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know? Haven¡¯t you seen something like this at some point?¡±


    ¡°Of course! I have more experience with the beasts in what¡¯s left of my left leg than you have in your whole life. It¡¯s just that there are three things it could be, and I haven¡¯t seen any of ¡®em yet. But with that said, not seeing it yet does narrow it down to two, so that¡¯s a start.¡±


    ¡°What two could it be?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯ll be either the special option or the annoying option, and that¡¯ll have to be where this little chat ends as the strays finally decided to show up.¡±

 Part 21

    I followed the Mayor¡¯s gaze to my right, where the group I had seen earlier had emerged and were walking towards us. I watched them walk towards us for a bit, noticing how their gazes darted between the three of us but seemed to linger on me. My eyes wandered between the group leader and the boy in the back. One of the girls tried to say something to the leader, but got dismissed, receiving condescending looks from the rest of the group.


    ¡°Stand behind me. I don¡¯t like the light in that man¡¯s eyes.¡±


    I didn¡¯t question his words and jumped back, landing just behind the Mayor on the side opposite Erin. The three of us remained still and silent, although I could tell the Mayor¡¯s eyes never left the group¡¯s leader. Erin¡¯s eyes remained close, her body language completely unaffected, as usual. I, frankly, didn¡¯t know what to do. With my past interaction with this group, I was nervous to see what would happen when their leader opened his mouth, but I felt that the Mayor would be able to handle anything that got thrown at him. I was confident the man wouldn¡¯t turn violent, even given the Mayor¡¯s crippled state, but I still prepared myself for the possibility. I tried to hide my hostility and tension, albeit with little success.


    Eventually, they arrived before us, much like I had just done, although the feeling in the air was much more intense than before. Of the six members of the group, only the leader and one of the girls seemed engaged. The two guys and other girl that comprised the core of the group were utterly disinterested, looking like they were dragged there. The boy, of course, was there as well, standing behind the group with his eyes on the ground. Out of everyone, he looked the least observant by far, but I still couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was the biggest threat of them all.


    Another thing was, as soon as they stopped before us, I noticed Erin¡¯s hands clench and her eyes seemed to tremble. The hair on the Mayor¡¯s neck and arms was also standing up. My mind went back to the strange, unsettling feeling I experienced when I first interacted with the group, wondering if the two of them were experiencing the same thing. I couldn¡¯t be sure since I seemed to have been spared this time. That, or it was something else.


    ¡°We came all the way out here just to save this little town, only to find it already ran through. It hasn¡¯t even been a full day since we were told to come here, and you lot couldn¡¯t even hold out for that long. Yet somehow, there aren¡¯t even enough beasts left for us to blow off some steam after our long journey. Judging by the state of this courtyard, I¡¯d say your hunters tried to put up a good fight, but even with the dozen or so of them, I assume, they couldn¡¯t last more than a few hours. Meanwhile, the whole town got slaughtered behind them. Truly pitiful. I¡¯ve heard talk of hunters being weaker in recent years, but I truly didn¡¯t expect it to be this bad. But I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter now. We¡¯ll finish up here and be on our way. Judging by your clothes, I take it you¡¯re the Mayor. We¡¯ll take our compensation up front since there doesn¡¯t seem to be much left to do here.¡±


    ¡°Kneel.¡±


    The Mayor said only one word in response to that tirade, but with that word, the weight of the sky seemed to fall on everyone present. The group dropped to the ground instantly, in various positions of discomfort. The boy in the back also dropped, but instead of falling, he lightly descended to one knee. I felt the pressure too, but I was spared from the worst of it. My guess was that I was only feeling the residuals of what was directed at the group.


    Throughout the man¡¯s rant, I could feel both Erin and the Mayor growing more and more agitated, but whereas with Erin it felt more like an extreme irritation, I could feel a cold fury growing in the Mayor. I was frustrated as well, but watching these two people, who had up until now been living embodiments of the phrase ¡°calm and collected¡±, growing increasingly less calm made me feel more anticipation than anything.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°I¡¯ve let your little performance go on for long enough, I think. Frankly, I was of half a mind to drop the lot of you where you stood the moment you opened your mouth for failing to make the proper greeting, which I know all of you were taught no later than your first week of training, but I wanted to see just how big of a hole you¡¯d be able to dig yourselves into in a minute, but frankly, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d end up needing a ladder to get yourself out. Back in my day, regret was a common thing to feel when we didn¡¯t show up to a city on time, or maybe anger or remorse, but to see you lot strut in here with complete indifference, I honestly didn¡¯t know what to say. Then you finally show up before me, the very first thing you should have done might I add, and you proceed to insult me and my city to my face, belittle my and the young fellow here¡¯s efforts in stopping this shitshow, and finish it off by trying to extort money from me. Any mayor with half a brain would know that you people don¡¯t require payment from each town you visit, and the mere fact that you would even attempt such an idiotic thing is an arguably worse offense to my position. You complain about the decline in hunters, but conveniently ignore the fact that you are a prime example of why there is such a decline. You are supposed to be an example of what hunters should strive to be, and yet I can¡¯t imagine a single person ever looking up to you. Do you realize that, if I desired it, I could simply kill the lot of you and report dereliction of duty. Hell, I could just say you were killed in action, and given how you¡¯ve been talking to me I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve racked up enough complaints for them to not investigate it further.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Owl, sir, please don¡¯t do anything drastic. We simply haven¡¯t been sent to anything big recently and he¡¯s just a bit overconfident.¡±


    One of the girls, the one who tried to talk to the leader as they were walking, spoke up once there was a lull in the Mayor¡¯s critique. She was forced prone on the pavement, with her head turned to the side and her hair splayed over her face. Her voice was trembling as she nearly shouted out her plea. Everyone seemed more confused and irritated than anything else, but she seemed fearful.


    ¡°Owl, eh? There aren¡¯t many people nowadays who would know that name, and I certainly didn¡¯t expect one of the few to show up here, and least of all be some whelp who doesn¡¯t even know proper manners. Tell me, why do you know my old title? Is this a side job for you and your true passion is to be a historian?¡±


    ¡°No, sir! It¡¯s just that, my dad used to tell me about the old Heroes, and I learned about them too so I could impress him.¡±


    ¡°That right? How cute. So, your father must be the historian then.¡±


    ¡°No, sir. A hunter.¡±


    ¡°A hunter with an interest in the stories of his forefathers? Aren¡¯t many of those anymore. But someone like that must be older, so I assume he¡¯s retired now?¡±


    ¡°Ah, um, not exactly sir, but he¡¯s not¡­ working anymore.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯m sorry. You can stop with the sir. I know I¡¯m ancient, but it doesn¡¯t mean I want to be reminded of it.¡±


    The scene of them carrying out a conversation while the girl was still pinned to the ground was amusing to me. I didn¡¯t quite track everything they were talking about, but even though I was curious, I knew my questions would have to wait for later.


    ¡°I¡¯ve kept you here long enough, and you still have a job to do. Do it well from here on out and I might report favorably enough to let you keep your lives. Here¡¯s how this is going to work. I¡¯m going to let you up. You are going to come forward five paces and kneel before me. You will apologize for your behavior. You will then get up, turn around, leave, and perform your duties with no further incidents. I hope I have made myself clear.¡±


    Just then, the pressure lifted like it was never there. The group remained on the ground for a second, except for the boy in the back who rose immediately. They soon began to stand up, one after the other. There was a brief period of looking between each other, seeing who would act first, before the leader seemed to steel his nerves and walk forward. He walked the three paces before stopping, waiting for the rest of the group to fall in behind him. He then knelt, placing his right arm across the bottom of his chest, and his left behind his back.

 Part 22

    ¡°I apologize for my unintended disrespect.¡±


    The man kept his apology brief, curt even. It felt insincere to me, but that didn¡¯t surprise me. He was being forced to kneel and apologize to someone he clearly had no respect for. The rest of his group mirrored his actions, most of them similarly irritated. It was understandable, given that they seemed to know as much about what was happening as I did. The entirety of what the girl was talking about was lost on me. I figured I¡¯d ask the Mayor about it afterwards.


    ¡°Good. Now, turn around and get back to your jobs. This entire interaction could¡¯ve been avoided if you were simply competent, remember that.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ¡®Yes, Sir¡¯ when you address your superiors, boy.¡±


    The man gritted his teeth, but said nothing. His tense look quickly gave way to a small smirk, though, as he started to stand up. The sudden change in expression made me uneasy, and I moved my hand to my pistol. In the moment of time it took me to do that, I watched as he adjusted his footing and moved his right hand to the sword on his hip. In the next moment, he kicked off the ground and drew his sword, lunging towards the immobile Mayor. I started to draw my own weapon, but I couldn¡¯t match his speed. In the next moment, there was a flash next to the Mayor and the sound of metal clanging against stone rang out over the seven stunned people in the courtyard.


    In that instant, Erin had moved from her spot next to the Mayor, and now had a firm grip on the man¡¯s throat, lifting him a few inches off the ground. His sword had been knocked about twenty feet away. I had also drawn my gun, and now had it trained on the closest man behind him, not that he seemed to have any intention of moving.


    ¡°You are incredibly lucky I haven¡¯t been allotted lethal discretion, and that the gap between us means I cannot reasonably argue self-defense.¡±


    With that simple and very deliberate sentence, she dropped the man. Just as his feet touched the ground, she planted her foot firmly into the man¡¯s chest, sending him stumbling back into his group. Within a second after that, she was back beside the Mayor like nothing had happened. The foremost man in the group tried to catch his leader, but only ended up getting knocked over himself. The rest of the group then moved forward to help the two up, and after few seconds of murmuring amongst themselves and a few glares sent back at the three of us, they started moving back towards the edge of the courtyard. The boy trailed behind them a bit, as usual.


    The three of us watched them go. I had holstered my pistol shortly after the two men collided, as it started to feel a bit mean. I had been ready to fight when the man moved, but seeing how quickly he had been dealt with made me start to pity him. Erin was back to her typical calmness, and she seemed to be a bit less agitated than before. The Mayor seemed unaffected by it all. In fact, and I was only realizing it now, his eyes had been locked on the odd man out of their group.


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    The group stopped dead in their tracks. The tone of the Mayor''s voice was no different than usual, but it echoed across the courtyard, resonating with a strange sort of power. They slowly turned around, clearly confused. The leader seemed to want to speak up, but likely didn¡¯t want to get scolded for some other breach of etiquette.


    ¡°You, young man, the one who¡¯s eyes haven¡¯t left the ground, come here. The rest of you may leave.¡±


    After a few glances among themselves, they did just that. They shot a few weird looks at the boy but, despite looking like they wanted to, said nothing. The boy then started weakly walking towards us. I had felt some discontent in the group, although it felt a bit different from what I usually sensed from them. It felt almost anxious, worried, although not as much as when they were being actively threatened. With the overconfidence of this group, I was surprised they¡¯d feel anything other than arrogant if their lives weren¡¯t being actively threatened.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    After a short while, the boy eventually made it before us once again, and started to kneel.


    ¡°You may remain standing.¡±


    The boy straightened his posture.


    ¡°Step forward.¡±


    The boy stepped forward.


    ¡°You may relax. You will not be harmed so long as you stand near me.¡±


    Erin relaxed a bit.


    ¡°Show me your hand.¡±


    The boy stuck out his right hand.


    ¡°The other one.¡±


    The boy hesitated, but hearing how gentle the Mayor¡¯s tone had become, he dropped his guard a bit and lifted his left arm. What was revealed was a pale, delicate, near-emaciated looking hand, something not particularly unusual with what I had already seen of him. What was unexpected however, were the two swollen, crooked, and discolored fingers. They were a yellowish pale, with a number of black-purple patches. The injuries on one of the fingers looked a bit more muted than the other. I started wondering why I hadn¡¯t seen it sooner, but thinking about it more, I realized I had no reason to; I had no reason to be looking specifically at his hands. That couldn¡¯t be my excuse, though. I couldn¡¯t let it be an excuse. I needed to be more observant, even with something that small. The Mayor clearly saw it, even though the closest he had ever gotten to him was more than double the distance I had been. It spoke to how much more experience he had, being able to key in on the smallest of things and know what they meant. Even the smallest of muscle movements could betray an attack in a fight, but the simple principle of observing my surroundings shouldn¡¯t have been limited just to fights. It was something I needed to practice, and I became determined to do just that.


    ¡°Erin.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sir. I understand.¡±


    ¡°Go with her, kid, and stay with her for the time being.¡±


    He just nodded and walked over to Erin, who then led him off towards the town hall. She sat him down in the doorway, and soon a soft gold glow began to radiate from them. I remained by the Mayor in this. I was curious about the boy¡¯s situation, but I had yet to get my thoughts in order.¡±


    ¡°Shame to see that.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, then? They did it to him, right? I don¡¯t see how else that could¡¯ve happened.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course that¡¯s what happened, and of course that¡¯s infuriating to see. What I meant though, was that it¡¯s a shame to see people so blind to their own situation. I¡¯ll let you in on something of a well-known secret. These teams that get sent to towns, Cleaners as you know them, come at varying strengths. Members are selected for a team based on their skill, being placed with people of similar skill levels. It prevents either one person dragging the whole team down, or one person doing all the work for a team, rendering them completely helpless when that person gets overconfident and dies. That part isn¡¯t the secret. What happens though, is some teams end up underperforming to some extent, and being so far away from their ¡®home base¡¯, so to speak, means they can¡¯t be readily observed to determine the source of their failure. So, they¡¯ll get assigned a new member, someone quite a bit stronger than they are, who is given the task of determining the source of trouble in the team, and eliminating it depending on the situation, hence the strength. Them being assigned to the group is explained away as a management mishap and getting reassigned gives them a reason to leave and report back on their findings. Usually, the source of trouble comes from a team leader, which is almost always a de facto position, doing a shit job of actually leading, so they simply get reassigned out of the group one day, and someone different gets slotted in. Most people never realize any of this even occurred unless they achieve a high enough position to watch it happen or hear about it happening. This is the reason there¡¯re six people in this team when the standard is five.¡±


    ¡°So, them hurting the kid is enough to warrant an investigation?¡±


    ¡°It is, but that¡¯s not what¡¯s happening.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. The kid is a magic user, which is why he looks like he¡¯d snap in two with a strong wind. He¡¯s under very strict orders regarding hurting them, too, I¡¯d guess. From what I can tell, his ability with magic is strong enough to put all of them down in a heartbeat, but going by his age, he likely can¡¯t control it very well, hence why he can¡¯t stop them.¡±


    ¡°Still, it would be justified if he hurt them after they did that to him, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Do you remember what Erin said earlier? About not being able to justify self-defense?¡±


    ¡°Because the difference in strength was too great.¡±


    ¡°Yes. The same applies here. This is why I said it¡¯s a shame. Those idiots don¡¯t get why he was placed in their team, nor why he seems to be such a pushover. The cherry on top of all this is that, once they get back to whatever town they¡¯re based out of and the kid reports what happened, they¡¯ll all likely be executed.¡±

 Part 23

    ¡°That seems a bit extreme¡±


    ¡°Oh, believe me, it can get significantly worse. You should see what they do to insurrectionists.¡±


    ¡°With how you brought it up, I don¡¯t think I want to.¡±


    ¡°No, probably not, although when it¡¯s a particularly insufferable guy, it can be quite enjoyable.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind, in case I meet anyone who annoys me and coincidentally wants to drive a stake into the heart of the church, or something.¡±


    ¡°Well, getting back to the topic at hand and ignoring your weird choice of metaphor, that group of miscreants are supposed to have someone watching over them, and seeing how the person who¡¯s supposed to be doing it is on medical leave, our resident healer is busy treating him, and I don¡¯t want to move, I see no more perfect candidate than you to take over the position.¡±


    ¡°Have you considered that I don¡¯t want to?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯m using my authority to appoint you to the position. Besides, what else are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°Sound argument. I have nothing to say.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t feel too bad about it. I¡¯m not asking you to talk to them, it¡¯s not like I want to torture you, just watch over them. Take notes on their team structure and how they fight. There should be enough beasts still around to get you some good data. The best part is, since you aren¡¯t the ¡®official¡¯ observer, you don¡¯t even have to step in to help them if it looks like they¡¯re going to die.¡±


    ¡°Fine, you talked me into it.¡±


    I did a quick check over my equipment and exchanged goodbyes with the Mayor.


    ¡°One last thing, before you go. Sorry for using you. Well, I¡¯m not sorry, but even I can acknowledge it wasn¡¯t the nicest thing to do. That being said, if put in the same situation, there¡¯s nothing I would do differently, and you¡¯ll understand why as you get more experience.¡±


    I looked at him for a bit, before nodding, turning, and heading off in the direction that group had gone. They had gone towards an area with quite a few buildings still standing, either thinking that leftover beasts would be running around these maze-like streets, or simply wanting to break line of sight with the Mayor. I hopped onto a rooftop and did a quick scan for them, but there was nothing. It was a bit weird to me that they hadn¡¯t decided to take the high ground while they searched, but I was starting to expect a lack of forethought from these people. I picked a direction and started moving, listening for them more than looking. Not long passed before I heard people talking, and an even shorter time passed before I found myself on a rooftop directly over them, crouched. They were in the midst of an argument.


    ¡°That still doesn¡¯t give him the right to treat me like that. Treat all of us like that.¡±


    ¡°No, it gives him every right to do that, and more. He could¡¯ve killed us all in a second! How can you not understand the gravity of that?¡±


    ¡°Please. You heard that girl yourself. They weren¡¯t going to hurt us; even people with half a brain know what the consequences of that would be.¡±


    ¡°No, she and him operate in completely different capacities. She operates within the laws; he sits above them. Hell, he was around when half of them were written. That¡¯s what a Hero is! They are people with power we can¡¯t fathom, both physical and political.¡±


    ¡°And there you go again with that ¡®Hero¡¯ business. They¡¯re just stories! Stories! Tales we tell kids to give them illusions of grandeur before the world kicks their pathetic little teeth in. Some are probably based on real people, I¡¯ll grant you that, but they¡¯re all clearly exaggerated. I mean, what was that new one they just came out with? One person single-handedly preventing a red fort from losing a man for two whole years? It¡¯s barely even believable. And here you are, saying someone like that is now a cripple in a town like this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how he ended up like that! How many times do I have to tell you?¡±


    ¡°Well, you seem to want to tell me that a lot, and it¡¯s not getting any more coherent the more times you say it.¡±


    ¡°Just like your thought that you could kill him if only that woman wasn¡¯t there?¡±


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°I will keep telling you as many times as it takes for you to understand. The man may have been someone at some point, but now he¡¯s just a cripple in a chair in the middle of a ruined town ¨C his ruined town. He couldn¡¯t even move to stop me.¡±


    ¡°Did you forget that he was able to force all of us to a dead stop with his aura alone?¡±


    ¡°I seem to remember him pulling a trick with an unknown amount of preparation that only lasted a certain amount of time, which he conveniently didn¡¯t use again when I was actively threatening him, making that girl step in to save him.¡±


    ¡°No matter which new way you find to justify it to yourself, it¡¯ll never change reality. You couldn¡¯t beat him no matter how hard you try. None of you could.¡±


    ¡°Hey, now. Don¡¯t rope us into this. Also, there¡¯s something that¡¯s been making its way towards us for the last few seconds and I¡¯ll get here in about five more.¡±


    With a final glare, the girl and the leader stopped arguing and turned their focus towards the direction the other members of the group were looking. Sure enough, after a few seconds had passed, a beast came bounding out of a nearby alley. The group quickly assumed a formation. One man stood directly in front of the beast, the other two men stood off to the sides, and the two women stood well behind the middle man, one on either side. The man in the middle served as the distraction, and had a small, fold-out, metal shield on one arm and was holding a maul in the other. The group leader stood to one side with his sword drawn in a low-ready, while the third man in the group stood opposite him, similarly with a sword drawn, although he was making a strange gesture with his other hand. I assumed him to be someone who used magic as a compliment to his swordplay, although his current role seemed to push him into using solely magic. The girl who was arguing with the leader seemed to be the healer of the group, as she was stood noticeably farther back than everyone else, looking at the whole situation instead of focusing on the target. She was also holding a small lever action rifle. The last girl was also making a strange hand gesture, so I assumed her to be the true magic user in the group. The overall formation served to focus the attention of the beast on the man in the middle, which would then allow everyone else to pounce on it once it was distracted. It was a good formation but had some noticeable flaws.


    With the positions of the magic users, there was a significant chance of friendly fire. Having one man serve as a distraction also seemed like a bad idea to me. Sure, having the thing focused on one target makes it much easier to attack, but it also poses significant risk to the man serving as a distraction. One slip could kill him or do enough damage to take him out of the fight, which would then expose the backline. The ranged attackers should¡¯ve positioned themselves on top of the nearby houses, while the magic swordsman should¡¯ve sat a bit farther back to either put pressure on the beast to keep it in a specific area, while also being able to tag in and out with the pure melee fighter, in this case the leader. It was situations like this, teams like this, that were why I chose to work solo. I¡¯d much prefer my mistakes to only affect me, and not have to constantly worry about where everyone else was. I was curious how they¡¯d deal with these problems, though.


    The beast pounced on the center man, who readied his shield and braced himself. When the beast was in range, he struck out with his shield, landing a good solid smack on the beast¡¯s face. Before it could recover, the leader jumped in, with admittedly impressive speed, and drove his sword into the side of the beast with precision. The other man made a bit of space, then struck the beast hard with his maul. It soon stopped moving and everyone relaxed, resheathing their weapons.


    It was a well-practiced act, and it remined me of the fact that strategy is important, but a group with high strength can make even bad strategies successful. The group then moved on from this spot, and followed as quietly as I could on the rooftops. Soon, the same man warned of another beast, the group adopted the same formation, and dealt with the situation in the same way. They then moved on until they encountered another beast, which they killed. This pattern continued time after time. As I watched it, I realized that they never had problems with their formation because the leader would always deal with the beasts before anyone else had the chance. I also noticed that he never seemed to show concern for the man he had drawing the beasts¡¯ attention, never checking to make sure he was uninjured after every fight. It became clear to me that these people only saw a victory as a victory, with no care for how it was achieved. There was no thought given to resource management, and it didn¡¯t seem to me that they¡¯d be able to effectively adapt to unexpected variables. They could deal with a beast from one side, and that was it. I was of half a mind to try to lure another beast towards them just to see what they¡¯d do, but I felt that would just be cruel.


    ¡°Alright, I need a break.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll stop for ten minutes, then. I don¡¯t want to be here a second longer than we have to.¡±


    The leader seemed to actually listen to the man he had supporting him. It was my opinion that he should be checking in frequently and keeping track of the status of his whole team, instead of relying on them to say something, but maybe this system worked better for them. It was interesting to see the difference in treatment, but it was unfortunately the only thing keeping me entertained while watching them. There was nothing special about the way they fought. It was fast, but it wasn¡¯t particularly skillful. I felt I had a good idea of the skill level of the two people who were actually fighting, but I had utterly no idea where the rest of the group stood. My role was as an observer, and I didn¡¯t feel it was right to manufacture a situation to split them up. I was treating them like mice in a maze, thinking of different things to introduce just to see what they did with it. I didn¡¯t feel particularly good about it, but I limited myself to just watching. The longer I watched though, the more bored I became.

 Part 24

    I kept watching the group move through the city until they came to a stop.


    ¡°If we keep walking, we¡¯ll end up where the wave first hit. All the buildings are destroyed, and no buildings means no beasts. We turn around. The sounds of us fighting should have attracted more.¡±


    I stifled an exasperated groan as I thought about having to watch them do the exact same thing again, before quickly realizing that them turning around meant I¡¯d be right in their line of sight. I slunk away from the edge of the roof I was on, and dropped onto the street running parallel to the one the group was on. I quickly and quietly moved in their direction. I moved a bit farther than where they had stopped and jumped back up onto a roof. I was once again behind them, and they had started moving back the way they came. I took a second to just sit and watch, letting them get a good distance away before I started following them again.


    From where I was, I had a good view over the initial path of destruction. It was a good few hundred yards across at its widest nearer the edge of town, and gradually narrowed as it got closer to the center. The destruction lessened as it got closer to the center as well, due to the beasts peeling off into side streets as they ran. This was what afforded us, the Mayor and I, an arena of sorts to fight in earlier. Looking around a bit more, I also noticed the building the Mayor had initially fought on was still standing as well. I chuckled at that. Immediately after that, I caught movement out the corner of my eye and my head snapped around to face it. Off in the field, far enough to just be a silhouette, there was a person approaching the town. He was coming from the fort, which seemed an impossibility, yet reality seemed to be fond of defying logic today. I couldn¡¯t make out any details with the distance, but I could tell he was big. It was strange, but it wasn¡¯t worrying. If he was at the fort, it meant he was an ally, and if he was still alive, it meant he was strong. I decided to let him make his way here on his own, as I still had a mission. I looked back to where I had last seen the group, but they were now out of sight.


    After a second of panic, I stood up and started dashing across the rooftops. I reassured myself by thinking that they couldn¡¯t have gotten very far in the brief time I looked away. I also realized I hadn¡¯t heard any fighting happen, so I probably hadn¡¯t missed much. Reality though, for the second time in less than a minute, seemed to laugh in the face of my logic. After only a short amount of running, I abruptly stopped, looking down onto the street below. The five of them were collapsed in various spots in the middle of the road. There was no sign of a struggle, there was no blood. I froze for a second, solely focused on the unmoving bodies below me. I jumped down, giving into the urge to investigate what happened. There was also a part of me that didn¡¯t want to return with no explanation.


    As I approached them, I began to realize how truly bizarre the situation was. They were strewn about close together, but with no particular order. All of their weapons were still on their persons as well, meaning that whatever happened hadn¡¯t just been quick, it had been so fast they didn¡¯t even have time to react. It was silent, and while it had been quiet around the city to begin with, this silence was particularly deafening. I walked up to them, a part of me hoping, as insufferable as I found them, that they¡¯d all suddenly spring up from the dead, but I soon found myself standing in the middle of all of them and they remained deathly still.


    Being close to them, I took a second to examine their bodies a bit closer. I confirmed that they weren¡¯t breathing, but they still had their color, meaning they were very recently dead. I bent down to check to see if they had gone cold yet, or if they by some miracle had a pulse, really just grasping at straws. Just as I was about make contact with one of them, who happened to be the man in the middle of their formation, I caught something at the edge of my vision and looked up. His eyes were black ¨C bottomless abyssal pits with a speck of burning white light deep in the center of them. My mind was instantly cast back to the child I had seen earlier in the day. Whatever that kid had run into was the same as what these people had, but the image in their eyes was different. The image looked less defined.


    In the same second the realization flashed through my mind, I realized the silence surrounding me was truly deafening. I had gotten the order mixed up; the silence wasn¡¯t deafening, I was quite literally being deafened. My mind refocused in an instant. I looked up, but there was nothing in front of me. I made to turn my head to check my surroundings, but before I could even make a full turn to the side, a shape appeared in the corner of my vision, standing in the middle of the street. Everything in my body screamed at me to keep my eyes off of it, but there was a force that seemed to compel me to look at it, whatever it was.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    My reason was losing the fight. My desire to fight this corrupted instinct wasn¡¯t the solution, so instead of continuing on the path of fight, I switched to the flight option. I drove my feet into the ground with as much force as I could. My feet slid on the dust covered stones that made up the street, but I was able to regain my balance with another few steps. The jolt of adrenaline from almost falling managed to break my mind out of the non-physical hand that seemed to hold it. As soon as the winding street broke line of sight with whatever that thing was, I jumped onto the closest building and beelined towards the town center and what I had determined as a relative safe zone. My legs were outputting as much power as possible, but it still didn¡¯t feel fast enough. I was jumping over streets, using my hands to stabilize myself when I landed to keep myself moving. At some point in this mad dash, the knot that held my cloak in place around my shoulders finally gave way. I fought the urge to try to grab it, feeling that if I were to look back for even a second, everything would end.


    Eventually, the layer of buildings on the perimeter of the courtyard came into view and, with a final sprint, I found myself back on level, solid ground. I kept running until I reached the Mayor, who had been watching me with an amused smirk, where I collapsed just behind him. I laid there on my back for awhile while I caught my breath.


    ¡°So, care to explain what¡¯s got you running like that?¡±


    ¡°Just¡­ give me a second. And keep watching that direction.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t exactly go anywhere right now, y¡¯know. All I can do right now is keep an eye out while we wait for any developments.¡±


    ¡°Would five people suddenly dropping dead count as one of those developments?¡±


    ¡°Probably, yeah. What happened?¡±


    ¡°No clue. They were out of my sight for less than a minute. I caught up to them, but by then they were all¡­ I don¡¯t even know. There was no sign of a struggle; no blood, no nothing. They didn¡¯t even have their weapons drawn.¡±


    ¡°Blacked out eyes with a light in the middle?¡±


    ¡°Yep. Just like that kid.¡±


    ¡°Kid? What kid?¡±


    ¡°The kid in the hospital. Didn¡¯t you say you visited him?¡±


    ¡°I saw the kids, plural, the ones who brought the message of the wave. There were two of them in the room, and I know they were still alive since we¡¯d be having a much bigger issue if the dead started talking. What kid are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°In the morgue. There was a kid that, as far as I can tell, died in the same way these people did. Speaking of which, if you didn¡¯t see the kid, how did you immediately know what happened?¡±


    ¡°One of the possibilities I mentioned earlier, the annoying one specifically. Nothing I haven¡¯t seen before, just a bit of a different situation, hence why it¡¯s annoying.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s our plan then?¡±


    ¡°Still need to figure that part out. We frankly don¡¯t have the people to deal with this in the ways I¡¯ve used in the past, so we¡¯re at a bit of a stalemate. Anything else you have to report?¡±


    ¡°Do you want to hear about their behavior as a team? That was the point of having me watch them in the first place, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t really matter anymore, but we don¡¯t have much else to do, so have at it.¡±


    I sat up, having finally caught my breath. I was also starting to get a stiff back.


    ¡°Where would you like me to start?¡±


    ¡°Reports are usually organized chronologically, so start with the first thing you noticed and work from there.¡±


    ¡°Alright then. First thing I noticed was that they are, were, argumentative.¡±


    ¡°Hardly a surprise.¡±


    ¡°No, actually. It is. Their dynamic was centered around their leader. Only one of them was willing to argue with him, that one girl, while the other three just watched. They seemed more amused than anything, which makes me think this had happened a few times before.¡±


    ¡°I disagree but we¡¯ll talk about it later.¡±


    ¡°Okay then. After that, they got into combat and didn¡¯t do much talking. They broke into a formation immediately. It looked well-practiced. They had one guy distract the beast, the leader and the third guy flanked it, while the two girls stood back. Their formation was vulnerable to crossfire, but it never became an issue for them since the leader was the only one who attacked. He dealt with it quick and did it consistently. They killed a few beasts in the same way before turning around and walking straight into their deaths.¡±


    ¡°So, those are the facts. Now, what are your opinions?¡±


    ¡°Are there opinions I should have? The leader was self-centered and the way they fought reflected that. Anyone who challenged him was argued in circles until they gave up. I don¡¯t know what opinions you¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°Me neither. I just wanted to get you thinking more. There¡¯s a lot more going on here, and I want you to pick up on that. I also wanted you to get experience with reports and knowing what information to include or not to include. Personally, I¡¯d put an unexpected arrival in the ¡®include¡¯ pile.¡±

 Part 25

    Special lecture given by fifth generation Hero, Vulper.


    Fulcor Military Academy


    ¡°¡¯All warfare is based on deception¡¯ is both a common phrase and accurate. The question is though, what is deception based on?


    It¡¯s a simple question and an even more simple answer: deception is based on truth. To be more precise, it¡¯s based on understanding, but in order to understand something you must know the truth of it. As it pertains to this topic, knowing your enemy, or your target, is the key to properly deceiving them. What they want, how they act, the people around them, their background, and about a thousand other things all play into how a person acts, and you need to know all of that to truly understand them. Once the understanding is there, you can get them to do whatever you want.


    When I say there¡¯s a thousand things to know about a person, I mean it, even though it¡¯s a bit of an understatement. Even the smallest of things can clue you in on what makes a person tick. You truly can¡¯t, and shouldn¡¯t, overlook anything, especially if you think it¡¯s nothing. Imagine you¡¯re painting a picture of a person. You¡¯d likely cover the big things first, like the nose, the eyes, the hair, the mouth, the backdrop, the clothes, et cetera. Then you¡¯d move to the small details, the curve of the eyelashes, the color of the buttons on the shirt, how far the ears stick out from the head, all the things you may not immediately notice, but that serve to really complete the picture. Now, is either category more important? No. Without the major details, none of the little things make sense; you don¡¯t have a picture. Get rid of the little things and you¡¯re left with an incomplete image, something which doesn¡¯t accurately represent what it¡¯s supposed to.


    When you look at someone, you note their clothes, the way they do their hair, the house they live in, the job they have, and all the other big, easily noticeable things. That gives you the basis for your understanding of a person. From there, you look at the things someone might miss, like their shoes, their jewelry, behavioral patterns, the way they walk, how they talk to people and how that changes depending on who they¡¯re talking to. The small stuff comprises a much bigger category and also tells you so much more about a person. The more you interact with people, the more you¡¯ll realize that everyone is basically the same, and it¡¯s these little tells that truly make a person unique. Learn to read them properly and you¡¯ll be able to jerk someone around like a puppet.


    Back in my early days, I was tasked with, shall we say, getting rid of someone. I followed them around for a few days. In that time, I noticed many things about them. Their house was very orderly, their clothes were always neat, their morning routine was always the same, they had a pair of shoes they only wore one day of the week, and a bunch of other things that didn¡¯t end up being important. Now, to be clear, I¡¯m saying they ended up not mattering, but I kept them in mind until my job was done, and you should do the same. So, one day, I got into their house and moved a few things, took a few other things; not so much that it was immediately noticeable, but enough to really confuse them as they noticed more and more things out of place. Then, the next day, I paid someone to knock on their door in the middle of their morning routine. Some salesmen for something, if I recall correctly. Always pick someone hunger for money and hunger to leave a good impression. This had the intended goal of breaking their routine. Plan B was having a kid throw a ball through their window. I then waited two days, enough for them to start forgetting about it, and nabbed their ¡®special shoes¡¯. When they couldn¡¯t find their shoes, they began to curse the universe for acting against them. They were so out of it, it was all too easy to slip some poison into their drink at lunch that day. Much easier than stabbing him dead in the street.


    ***


    I looked out towards the somewhat recently cleared path out to the edge of the city, very quickly noticing the shape of a person walking towards us.


    ¡°Would you believe I forgot to mention it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, actually. You were distracted and, with how fast you were running, utterly terrified, so it makes sense you¡¯d forget about something that wasn¡¯t front of mind. Doesn¡¯t excuse it though, but luckily for you, your inexperience does.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°But how did you know I had seen him?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. Not with absolute certainty anyway. If you hadn¡¯t, you should¡¯ve, so the argument stands, but you just admitted you did, so there¡¯s my certainty. Also, I knew you turned around in a spot where you would¡¯ve seen him walking up, which also explains why you had your eyes off your charge ¨C do you see how I want you to be thinking now?¡±


    ¡°Overanalyze everything? Yeah, I think I¡¯m getting it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an adequate amount of analysis, but that doesn¡¯t matter right now. There¡¯s a short time before he gets here and we need to change the topic, so I¡¯m going to tell you what you missed so you have a template to use in future. I¡¯ll start with the point I already told you I disagreed with you on. You said they were argumentative, I said it wasn¡¯t surprising, you said it was. Your initial analysis was good, that guy had an iron grip around the metaphorical balls of his whole team, which you were right in assuming would make his team not want to argue with him, but you didn¡¯t factor in his ego. He doesn¡¯t have the pure strength to keep such a tight grip on them out of fear, and there¡¯s more to talk about on that point but that¡¯ll come later, and he also doesn¡¯t have the charisma and confidence to command in such a way they simply don¡¯t want to argue. No, they¡¯re scared to argue, but for a different reason than being hurt. You said he argued them in circles, or in other words, bullied them into submission with arguments he never gave them the time to dispute, which he used to humiliate whoever stood up to him.


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t give the whole story. No, if he was simply bullying the people in his team, they¡¯d just leave or be respectful and request a transfer, which would result in an investigation if it happened more than once or twice, which clearly never happened since he was sent here. Since people, as I mentioned, leave when they¡¯re being mistreated, it means these people had a reason to stay. His sword was damn near ornate. Very high quality, very expensive, and definitely not something he would ever get issued. I do actually excuse you for not noticing this, as a weird looking sword, or at least weird to you, is likely how you¡¯d define half the weapons being carried around by these kids, or ¡®Specially Authorized Disposal and Reconnaissance Teams¡¯ as I¡¯m supposed to be calling them. My gripes aside, the sword means he¡¯s from a wealthy family, something the rest of the team probably knew, which means they also knew they could be set for life if they could get a job under him or his recommendation for a different position. Of course, someone like that would take someone leaving him for better prospects to be a personal offense and would also scoff at sharing any of ¡®his¡¯ wealth with them, but again, it¡¯s a moot point now.


    ¡°And finally, the kid; the wrench in the gears, so to speak. Why abuse the kid if he had his team under control already? One new addition will hardly disrupt anything since the reasons everyone has to stick around haven¡¯t changed, which rules out hurting the kid to make him fall in line and not disrupt the order he manufactured. Of course, he is an egotistical idiot, which could very well throw all of my analysis off, but let¡¯s keep assuming he¡¯s just an egotistical, insecure idiot instead of an insane, egotistical, insecure idiot. The only effects hurting the kid has are on him and the kid. The only reason he would have to hurt the kid is control. Before, he was able to just argue people down and his background took care of the rest, but think about who this kid is. He already has a secure future, which means he doesn¡¯t care about offending the guy or not, and coincidentally also means he¡¯s too smart to be led around in circles. So, what¡¯s the last option available to the guy? Hurt the kid, make him unwilling to fight. He just happened to get lucky the kid couldn¡¯t fight back.


    ¡°That all brings us to now, or rather, about an hour ago. Six people rock up to my city, I see a misfit in the group, I pluck him out, the group goes on their way. The leader guy is miffed I took his punching bag, and at being humiliated, so he takes it out on the people around him, because why would he just take the loss on the chin, only now, there¡¯s another wrench. Normally, his people wouldn¡¯t start conflict with him, but that one girl knew who I was.¡±


    ¡°And who are you?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt me while I¡¯m giving you valuable insights into the human condition. Also, it¡¯s not important right now. Anyway, she recognized me, which gave her an out. Someone who she felt could vouch for mistreatment if she decided to ditch the team, thus nullifying any consequences. As I said, them being argumentative was hardly surprising after all that.¡±


    ¡°How did you manage to get all of that from an interaction that barely lasted a minute?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s quite simple. I didn¡¯t. I spied on them from the second they entered the city to the second you showed up, and by me, I mean Erin. No internal conflicts, but otherwise she reported much of the same things you did.¡±


    ¡°So, you had me watch them to get information you already knew?¡±


    ¡°No, I had you watch them because you had nothing better to do and I wanted you out of my hair so I could ask the kid about some confidential shit that you aren¡¯t authorized to hear, and I didn¡¯t tell you that because I didn¡¯t want to deal with your questions about it. And I still don¡¯t, so keep them to yourself and stand up. Our guest has arrived.¡±

 Part 26

    ¡°I know, I can see him too.¡±


    I said that, but truthfully, I was so focused on the story the Mayor was spinning that I likely would¡¯ve forgotten to stand up without his reminder. Once I was one my feet, I took a good look at the man walking towards us, who had now stepped foot into the courtyard. He was indeed a giant, close to eight feet tall and about half as wide. He was shirtless and his pants were ragged, the two things likely having the same cause. He was as muscular as he was tall, but his build wasn¡¯t lean. Apart from his stature, there wasn¡¯t much remarkable about him.


    I finally stood up and walked up behind the Mayor, taking the same place I had earlier. After a second or two passed, I noticed Erin had also returned to her spot behind the Mayor. I shot a quick glance back to the town hall and saw the kid sitting in the doorway, similarly watching the new arrival. It was at this point I realized the two of them weren¡¯t around when I came back, but I didn¡¯t notice it at the time. In the time it took me to make that glance, the man had already reached talking distance and had stopped.


    ¡°I¡¯m back.¡±


    ¡°Took long enough. Now, down to business.¡±


    ¡°Wait, hold on. Can I at least get an introduction?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right, sure. Introduce yourself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Bear.¡±


    ¡°Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, let¡¯s get down to business. I¡¯ll have you report on what happened at the fort later.¡±


    I just let out a defeated sigh but didn¡¯t say anything else. No point in trying to squeeze a conversation out of a man of few words.


    ¡°We have three beasts left in the city. There might be a couple small ones too, but they won¡¯t impact my plan at all. Two Anglers, one Lure, and four and a half hunters that don¡¯t specialize in speed. We meet problems head on and they wait for meatheads like us to walk in front of them. As long as we don¡¯t move from here, they don¡¯t attack us, but we can¡¯t attack them. Now, I have no interest in waiting them out, which means we need to go to them. So, how do we catch things that move faster than us and can hide in every shadow?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t. We flush them out.¡±


    ¡°Erin, I already told you my plan, you don¡¯t get bonus points for answering. But yes, that¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. The problem is the Lure. It¡¯ll never fall for the same trick, which means we need to do something else. We need to somehow convince it it has a sure shot at one of us and use the moment it goes in for the attack to kill it. That part I¡¯m still working on, so in the meantime we deal with the Anglers. Kid, you¡¯re up! Do what I told you earlier!¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    He shouted the last part, so I knew he meant the other person he called kid. The three of us turned to look at him. The Mayor¡¯s chair was still facing the opposite direction. The kid stood up and closed his eyes. The cloak around his shoulders started to tremble, but otherwise I couldn¡¯t see anything happening. I turned to look at the other two, but they didn¡¯t share my confusion. Erin had closed her eyes but was still looking at the ground with a face that almost looked to be in pain. The man who introduced himself as Bear on the other hand, was looking at the kid with eyes stuck open to their fullest and a slack jaw ¨C a mix of astonishment, confusion, and fear.


    ¡°Alright, there¡¯s one on either side, which makes it easy. Bear, you take the one to my left, Erin and kid two, just back up a bit.¡±


    His words snapped the two of them out of their daze. Me and Erin moved a bit closer to the kid, although I noticed she seemed a bit hesitant, and Bear dashed off in the specified direction. He moved fast, reaching a reasonable distance away from the edge of the courtyard in just a few steps, each of which shook the earth a bit. The Mayor then lifted his gun and pointed it off to his side. Erin and I took another few steps back. Then we waited, my eyes darting between the two sides all the while. After only a couple seconds, Bear moved. Following his path of movement, I saw a small black mass in mid-air. I then saw Bear reach its position, grab one of its tentacle-feet-things, and slam it into the ground with enough force to leave a small crater. Without letting go, he violently stomped down on the thing, creating a small puddle in the bottom of the crater.


    ¡°One down!¡±


    Immediately following his shout, the Mayor¡¯s gun went off, making my ears ring, but the effect was noticeably weaker due to the distance.


    ¡°And that¡¯s two.¡±


    As soon as he said that, I watched Erin dart off to Bear and say something to him. Once she was done there, she ran over to the kid, but didn¡¯t say anything. She just stood there silently, looking at the Mayor. When I turned back to look at the Mayor, Bear was standing next to him, looking at me with a strange look.


    ¡°Phase two is a go¡­ now!¡±


    Bear threw an arm across the Mayor¡¯s chest and under his arms, before taking off towards the part of the city with the highest building density. Before I could react, he was almost there, and Erin was running next to him, carrying the kid in a similar fashion.


    They had left me.


    I chased after them on instinct, trying to ignore the panic and confusion and just get myself back to safety. As I ran though, I thought about the situation. It was clearly planned, but what objective did they have in mind? The only thing they talked about was killing the ¡®Lure¡¯, whatever that was. I cast my mind back to the conversation we had just had, replaying every part of it as I approached the edge of the courtyard. There were only two things we needed to do: kill the Anglers and kill the Lure. Objective one had already been accomplished, which left objective two.


    It was then I realized what had happened, and how risky of a situation I was in.


    I kept running, noticing a black paste smeared on the walls of a building on the edge of the courtyard centered around a significant hole before, once again, entering the city proper. I was determined to take killing the Lure into my own hands, which meant I had to trick it into thinking it could easily kill me. I figured I had an advantage since it had already seen me run from it before, but that wouldn¡¯t be enough on its own. I needed to feign fear, but that was the easy part. I was going to need to, somehow, deal with the mind-control like ability it had. Thinking back to my encounter with it earlier, though, I remembered that only my head seemed to be affected, while the rest of my body was fine. My performance was on.

 Part 27

    Past the first row of buildings, I looked both ways in a panic, before running down the street in the same direction as the back of the city. I hung a left down the first alley, and started zigzagging my way through the buildings, gradually slowing down as I got further and further out. I stopped to look around, before choosing a new direction and picking up the pace again. I was in a part of the city I don¡¯t think I had ever gone to before, so I was truly getting lost. As I ran, I slid my hand down to my sword, making sure it was loose in its sheath. It had been dulled, and was likely close to breaking, but it would serve the purpose I had in mind for it.


    The mindless sprint continued for a while. I felt like I was moving in circles, but I wasn¡¯t sure. Every now and then I stopped to consider which street I should go down. My breathing was growing ragged, but I kept pushing. The sprint eventually slowed to a jog, and I grabbed my side in pain. Soon after that, I stopped running entirely and took a seat in the middle of the street. I sat with my knees up in front of me. I placed one arm across my knees and rested my forehead on it, while the other stayed on the side of my stomach. Between my legs, I could see a few feet in front of me, but almost nothing else.


    I waited like that for what felt like an hour, but then I felt a tickle. It was like a gentle pull on my brain, trying to get me to lift my head, and for a second I almost did out of instinct, but I remembered what I was doing and fought the urge. Soon, the gentle pull became a full-blown tug of war. If there was any doubt before, I knew now with certainty what the cause of this was. The force seemed to be pulling me towards my front, which was lucky for me. I knew it was in front of me, and judging by the force getting stronger, it was getting closer.


    I needed to keep fighting, but I also needed to prepare. I thought about every time I had seen the Lure. All two times. One was an indistinct image in the eyes of that kid, the other was out of the very corner of my eye. When I saw it personally, I had only recognized that it was there before bolting off in the opposite direction. I focused on the memory, trying to pull any details from it I could. I remembered it taking up the entire edge of my vision, but it wasn¡¯t super close, meaning it was tall. Having thought of that, and thinking about it more, I realized I had only seen the bottom section of it, maybe three-quarters of the total height. Next was the image in the eyes of the kid. At the time, it just looked like a ball of flesh, not particularly unlike the rest of the beasts, but this one looked more chaotic. All the beasts I had seen had fur and ran on tentacles, the only difference being that that did that at varying sizes. This one was different though. It didn¡¯t have appendages quite like the others did, but rather seemed to be wrapped in them, giving the impression that its whole body was a writhing mass of flesh. The last thing I could remember in that image was that there seemed to be a gap in the tentacles near the front of the beast, making it resemble an eye.


    I had two completely different images of something, but I knew they must be the same since whatever killed the kid had to be in this wave, and whatever killed the five people killed them in the same way the kid was killed. So, I did the reasonable thing and put the two images together, making a ball of flesh on a stick. It was a horrifying enough image on its own, but then I remembered I hadn¡¯t really seen its full height. My best guess put it around the same height as Bear, but likely taller. Given that it didn¡¯t have ¡®legs¡¯, I wasn¡¯t exactly sure how it moved, but magic explained it well enough for the time.


    My mind¡¯s focus started to drift, and as soon as I recognized that, I was back in the moment. I was actively fighting now, but unlike before where it was just a battle of willpower, the fight had now turned physical. My neck was fully engaged in fighting against this thing¡¯s pull, beads of sweat beginning to form and drip down my face and neck. It was continuing to get closer, and I knew the closer it got, the harder it would be to keep fighting. I wasn¡¯t even sure if it was actually getting closer, I just had a gut feeling it was. But now, there was nothing I could do besides wait. I wasn¡¯t sure what I was waiting for, exactly, but I felt I¡¯d know it when it happened.


    The plan I had was to feign fear and panic, pretend to let my guard down, and use that to draw it close to me. It should have been very clear at this point that everything was an act, but it was still focused on me. As it got closer and closer, its pull getting stronger and stronger, I started to sense what felt like anger from it. It was similar to the type of anger one may feel when they try to get someone¡¯s attention and get completely blown off; it was an irritated sort of anger. But that fact alone made this thing far more dreadful than I had thought. If an animal, like a bear or a wolf, gets hurt, it may feel anger, but the anger is immediate. They act on it, if they can, and in some circumstances act on it again if they see the perpetrator of their suffering again, but rage is all it is; it¡¯s a primal anger, the very source of the term. This, on the other hand, was not that sort of anger. Had it been that anger, I would have been attacked and killed immediately. Instead, it felt irritation at being ignored, at failing to catch its prey, which implies an ego. If it hunts because it knows nothing else, it doesn¡¯t feel anything at missing its prey; if it feels irritation at its failure, it means it hunts because it wants to.


    But it was clear it didn¡¯t want to fight, since it only started to move once everything else had been killed. It was forced into taking action itself due to the situation, which made me wonder why it didn¡¯t take action to begin with. From a human perspective, it was unnecessary, but even then, it would be best utilized in going after strategic objectives, in this case killing the Mayor early on. It didn¡¯t do that though, which led me to think it found that to be beneath it. One more reason for me to think it had an ego.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It was interesting and terrifying. Interesting in that it almost seemed more human than beast, aside from the beast parts; terrifying in that it had the revenge drive of a human and was actively getting closer to me. At this point, I was pushing myself harder than ever to resist the beast¡¯s coaxing, but I could tell this endeavor was about to end. The pull was at its strongest but hadn¡¯t been getting stronger for the past little while, and it seemed like it had reached its limit. Maybe it was also getting tired, but I was confident it was based on proximity. The reason I was confident was because a shadow had appeared in my line of sight.


    The shadow was faint but certainly present, and almost seemed to shimmer. It was now that my heart started racing. The only thing I could do now was to wait, not that it was much of a change from before, only now it was clear to me I couldn¡¯t escape. It wasn¡¯t all fear, though. There was an excitement building as well, the excitement a hunter gets when they finally lay eyes on their prey. The thought occurred to me that it was probably feeling something similar, although I doubted it felt any fear. Before I could muse on this anymore, an appendage, for lack of a better term, appeared in my vision. It was just dangling there, lifeless, and hovering just barely above the ground.


    It was only a few feet in front of me, but still not close enough. I needed it to be basically right on top of me. Not being entirely sure of its anatomy, specifically how tall it was, I wanted to make sure there was as little distance as possible between us. Seeing it before me now though, I realized I had overlooked the possibility of it physically attacking me. This left me with an even smaller window than I thought I had. I could¡¯ve been wrong, of course, but I didn¡¯t feel like doubting myself at the moment, especially considering this thing¡¯s ¡°tail¡± was bigger around than my thigh. Just a few more seconds passed, and it was finally in range. I took a sharp breath in and steeled my resolve, then put my plan into action.


    I slid my hand down onto the hilt of my sword, pulling it out as I rolled my weight onto my feet. I put as much strength into my legs as I could muster and propelled myself into the air, directly towards the Lure. I thrust my sword nearly straight up, about a foot in front of me, keeping my eyes glued to the base of the hilt. I used the palm of my other hand to push it, putting as much force being it as possible. I felt it bite solidly into flesh, moving in a few inches before stopping. I tried to wrench it towards me to open a larger wound, but after only an instant of pulling, the resistance let up. The sword broke. What was left in my hand was a hilt with only the bottom few inches of the sword, ending in a jagged edge.


    Without thinking, I grabbed the hilt of what was left of the sword in a reverse grip with my other hand, and plunged it into the front of the beast, moving my eyes to the ground below me, just in case. I felt a squishy sort of resistance just before my hand was covered in a lukewarm liquid. I white-knuckled the hilt, hanging from it and the Lure with just my one arm. I didn¡¯t want to drop to the ground, in case it wasn¡¯t as hurt as it looked, but I couldn¡¯t just keep dangling. I closed my eyes and reached up with my free hand, quickly finding a handhold on the thing¡¯s knotted flesh. With a hard tug, I ended up on top of the beast. From there, I did the only thing I could, taking the sword and repeatedly plunging it in and out of the front of the beast.


    It was thrashing wildly in pain beneath me, making it increasingly difficult to hang on. Something I didn¡¯t notice at the time was that, at some point in all of this, all the effects the thing had had on me had dissipated. A large part of the reason I didn¡¯t notice this was because the beast made no noise. It didn¡¯t let out cries of pain or angry snarls. The only sound there was at the time was the sound of its ¡°tail¡± slamming against the ground, which I didn¡¯t notice on account of my heartbeat in my own ears being louder.


    Suddenly, the thrashing got even more violent, and I was thrown off. I opened my eyes instinctually as I fell, landing hard on my feet and falling on my side. I had ended up facing away from it, and I quickly noticed I didn¡¯t have to fight to direct my vision. Black blood was falling around and on me like rain. I decided to finally take a full look at the thing I was fighting, taking the lack of the pseudo-physical element to mean its hypnotic powers had stopped.


    My guess earlier was pretty close. It looked more-or-less like an eye. It was a ball of flesh with around a dozen limbs attached to a spot on the back of it, with one significantly longer and thicker that hung limply underneath it. The smaller limbs, which was a relative term given that they were each both longer and thicker than an arm, were wrapped around the thing¡¯s body, leaving a slit open in the front, creating an image similar to a squinted eye. In place of the actual eye part though, was a pitch-black abyss with a single white light in its depths. This, however, was an illusion.


    My first sword strike had landed on one of the ¡°arms¡±, which is why it felt so tough. The second strike, on the other hand, landed directly on the soft, middle eye part, which was now bleeding profusely. There were multiple large gashes opened on the surface of the eye, which made it clear the eye was just dark and not truly deep. It did, however, look almost like the abyss was being drained in a fountain of blood. It was still writhing, spraying blood all around it, and all over me. At this point, I was already drenched, so I didn¡¯t bother trying to avoid it. As it continued to thrash, the arms started to loosen up around it, splaying out like petals on a flower. The now-exposed body of it was just black skin ball with a smoother part in the front, fairly lackluster compared to the rest of it, but the overall image of it was horrible enough to make up for it.

 Part 28

    I stood there and simply watched it die. The fight had been won, and after a very long day, I felt I could finally let myself relax a little. Plus, I was somewhat proud of myself. There were things I could¡¯ve done better, of course. I should¡¯ve attacked the front first while I still had the full length of my sword; if I hit it deep enough, it would¡¯ve gone down faster, and I would¡¯ve been at less risk. But I pushed these thoughts away to mull over later. The job was done, and I deserved a minute to rest.


    It continued to thrash for a while, somehow staying afloat the whole time. The adrenaline rush started to wear off about the same time the blood fountain started to reduce in volume. As it did though, I noticed something strange. Behind the thinned blood fountain, I saw two small birds sitting at the peak of a roof. They had the body of a dove, but one was a pure, gold-tinged white, and the other was an elegant black that reflected purple in what little light there was. They were peacefully watching what was happening, occasionally chirping to each other.


    When the Lure finally ran out of blood, it fell out of the sky, landing with a dull thud. Immediately after, the birds took to the sky and fluttered away, each taking a separate, meandering path, but headed in the same direction. They were quickly hidden by the rows of buildings, and I turned my focus back in front of me. I guessed it was only a matter of time before the others showed up, but I didn¡¯t have much to do in the meantime. It then occurred to me that I was completely covered in the Lure¡¯s blood, and as soon as I focused on it, I started to feel incredibly uncomfortable. I reached for my cloak to use as a towel, and only then noticed it wasn¡¯t around my shoulders. After a few seconds of trying to wipe the blood off with my hands, I sighed in defeat and took my shirt off. I used the outside to get big stuff off and used the mostly dry inside to try to get the small stuff, but the blood was almost gelatinous, making it near-impossible to remove. I had already given up on getting it out of my hair, and had moved onto debating the pros and cons of going bald.


    As I was wiping myself down, I heard footsteps behind me, and turned to find the four people that had ditched me earlier now standing in a line with weird looks on their faces. Well, only three of them were standing as the Mayor was sitting on Bear¡¯s shoulders. He was holding his gun and cane, making Bear almost look like he had four arms. I smirked at the sight and threw my once-white shirt over my shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m still alive, and I¡¯m almost as shocked about it as you are.¡±


    They didn¡¯t respond and just kept looking at me. As the silence crossed the threshold of astonishment into awkwardness, the Mayor finally spoke up.


    ¡°Kid, look down for a second.¡±


    I gave him a questioning look but did as he asked. The ground beneath me was splattered with blood, which wasn¡¯t surprising, but there was nothing of not apart from that. As I started to question him though, my eyes moved to my now-exposed torso. My veins had turned black and were pulsating. My skin was greyer than usual too, but that wasn¡¯t as concerning. I hadn¡¯t noticed it before as it was masked by the rest of the blood that was on me.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s new. Should I be concerned or is this just something that happens sometimes?¡±


    ¡°No clue. First time I¡¯m seeing it. If I were you, I¡¯d be a bit concerned, but since I¡¯m not you, I¡¯m interested.¡±


    ¡°What do we do about it?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t fix something you don¡¯t understand. Only thing we can do right now is wait and hope it gets better on its own.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it? What if it kills me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you get a nice funeral. I could probably finagle a medal out of someone for you, if¡®n you want.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thanks. That¡¯s very reassuring. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find the best jar you can to put me in when I turn into ooze.¡±


    ¡°Of course, only the best for the loyal soldiers of the Church. Speaking of which, Erin, get the rest of the blood off him and see if that helps. Bear, put me down and get me a chair.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Bear plucked the Mayor off his shoulders by his shirt collar, setting him down in the middle of the street. He then walked over to the closest building and punched a hole in the wall, stepping inside. In the meantime, Erin walked up to me and, after a moment of inspecting me with her head cocked, waved her hand, which now had a soft gold glow. My whole body then burst into gold-edged white flames for a bit under a second, just short enough to stop before I started panicking. I worriedly checked myself for burns, and quickly noticed I was now spotless, including the layer of dirt and grime that built up throughout the day. Even my shirt had been cleaned.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s convenient, if a little terrifying.¡±


    ¡°Yes, as long as I get the power level right. Thanks for staying still.¡±


    Bear walked back out, chair in hand. He set it in the middle of the street and placed the Mayor on it, moving to a spot behind him. I put my shit back on, then Erin and I then walked in front of the two of them. The kid stood a ways back, as always.


    ¡°What do we do now? Is the wave over?¡±


    ¡°For the most part, yes. There¡¯re a few things to do yet, but nothing for you. Bear, what was the situation at the fort?¡±


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s dead; nothing worth going back for.¡±


    ¡°And what happened before that?¡±


    ¡°The wave overwhelmed them quickly. The situation was unwinnable. I buried myself under some rubble and hid my presence. I came out when the movement stopped.¡±


    ¡°I was hoping for something more special than that.¡±


    ¡°There wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Then what took you so long to get here?¡±


    ¡°I gave it some time once the wave passed. I jogged most of the way. I saw movement in the city when I was about half a mile away, so I started walking.¡±


    ¡°Well that explains that. Nothing more we can do at the fort, so let¡¯s finish up here and get going. Us four will grab what we need to from the town hall. Kid you check for survivors.¡±


    ¡°Which kid?¡±


    ¡°The one I can see and am currently looking at.¡±


    ¡°How do you want me to do that? There¡¯s a whole town for me to look through.¡±


    ¡°Pick a spot and get started. We¡¯ll come grab you when we¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°If you wanted to get me out of the way, you could just say so.¡±


    ¡°I could, if that¡¯s what my goal was. That would also defeat the purpose of telling you to look for survivors.¡±


    ¡°There are survivors?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then why would you tell me to look for survivors?¡±


    ¡°They say that you die twice. Once when you, you know, die, the other when the last person who remembers you forgets. Maybe I just want you to keep these people alive a bit longer.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t tell me no matter what I say, will you?¡±


    ¡°Nope. This isn¡¯t a fight you can win, so maybe consider there¡¯s a reason for what I¡¯m saying.¡±


    ¡°Or you could just tell me and I could find what you want me to immediately.¡±


    ¡°Just do it. I promise I¡¯m not putting your life at risk again. Now, shoo.¡±


    ¡°Ok, fine. Where do you- wait, hold on. We never talked about you using me as bait to kill that thing.¡±


    ¡°Now, I might be old, but according to my memory, you killed it.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I tend to get defensive when I have some horrible monstrosity bearing down on me. It doesn¡¯t excuse the fact that you all ditched me and let that thing nearly kill me.¡±


    ¡°You had it handled. Why step on your toes when we can just sit back and watch the fireworks.¡±


    ¡°You were perfectly willing to let that thing nearly kill me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re repeating yourself.¡±


    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t seen that thing before, if I didn¡¯t have some idea of what I was up against, I would¡¯ve had no chance-¡°


    ¡°Stop. You saw the Lure? You were close enough to see it and you walked away?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and if I hadn¡¯t, it very well could have killed me.¡±


    ¡°That was the point, numbnuts, and you not saying you had seen it is what actually almost got you killed. A Lure is constantly on high alert until the instant it moves in for the kill. It needed to think it had a sure kill to drop its guard enough to let me get a line of sight on it, and the only way it would think it had a sure kill is when it¡¯s about to kill you.¡±


    ¡°Great plan, it¡¯s just too bad that thing was coming at with a literally palpable fury and was expecting a fight, so it never dropped its guard. You couldn¡¯t have at least run the plan by me first?¡±


    ¡°Well, it must¡¯ve dropped its guard if you were able to kill it, and what do you mean by ¡®a literally palpable fury¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Thanks for not even considering I might¡¯ve had the skill to kill it on my own.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the input, Erin, but reality seems to say otherwise. As for it being angry, I meant what I said. When it was doing its mind thing to me, I could feel it¡¯s anger and irritation at not being able to kill me before.¡±


    ¡°Alright, fine. Sorry for using you as bait. You¡¯ve given me some stuff to think about. Now, go do what I told you. I want to get out of here.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m not dropping this here, though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d expect nothing less. Now, lets the four of us get going.¡±


    They were off in under five seconds. Bear picked the Mayor up and jumped up onto the closest roof, moving him to his shoulders while he was in the air. Erin quickly followed, and the three of them were out of sight. The kid stood there watching them go, giving me one last look before sighing and walking off. I similarly sighed before going off in a different direction. I had no idea what I was supposed to be looking for, but I had a feeling I wouldn¡¯t be seeing the four of them again until I found what the Mayor wanted me to find.

 Part 29

    I was starting to notice a pattern with the events of today. It was making me wonder if the Mayor was capable of having a sustained conversation, given how quickly he turned me away every time we talked. This time, he had given me an entire city to explore; it was quite literally a needle in a haystack, and I didn¡¯t even know if the needle was there to begin with.


    I figured the side of the city with the most damage, were it to have survivors, would be the best to clear first. I walked slowly, keeping my ears open and throwing a glance into the windows I passed. Almost all the buildings in this part of the city were untouched. It was the back corner of the city, as much as it could be in a vaguely circular city, meaning that all the people here were the ones to get out at first notice. No targets meant the beasts had no reason to destroy buildings to get to people. It also meant that I was wasting my time here, since no people getting attacked meant no one surviving getting attacked. I picked up my pace.


    I quickly found myself in the rubble pile that was the front of the city. This was the first time I was truly taking in the scale of it. The dust had settled, leaving me with a clear view of it all.


    Starting with the outside edge, I made my way through the ruins. It was hard to make out the roads; the rubble had been tossed around quite a bit. I was placing my steps carefully, trying to not twist my ankle or stub my toe. There were raised parts of the rubble at somewhat regular intervals, and if someone was still alive, it¡¯d be under one of those piles. I looked over all the piles I passed. For all the ones that looked a bit lumpier, I walked over and shifted some of the rubble around. It was a very tedious process.


    I found nothing. Every now and then, I¡¯d find a limb, sometimes connected to something, but never moving. It was quickly getting depressing. I checked spot after spot, time after time, but failed to find anything. My mind began to wander as I paced the streets, thinking through everything. The fighting was all a blur. The big moments, mostly just watching the Mayor fight, were still relatively clear, even though most of it was just things exploding following a loud bang. The speed at which things had happened in my memory didn¡¯t match how long it had felt. I felt like I had been awake and fighting for days straight, even though my logic told me it hadn¡¯t been anywhere near that long.


    There was no one left. It was something I knew, something I fully recognized, but I kept walking. There was a part of me hoping I¡¯d find someone, but admittedly, there was a bigger part of me hoping I wouldn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t know what to do even if I did find someone, nor did I want to have to figure it out in the moment. I kept walking. I debated the intellectual dilemma I had. I knew there was no one left alive, I understood it, but I was still in disbelief over it. I wanted there to be people left, for the destruction around me to not be absolute, but only insofar as making my fighting worth it. I kept walking. Despite wanting someone to be alive, I was hoping I wouldn¡¯t find them. I didn¡¯t want to know that there was something more I could¡¯ve done. Of course, there wasn¡¯t anything more I could have done, and I knew that, but I couldn¡¯t accept it. I couldn¡¯t let myself accept it. I kept walking. Hours that felt like days of fighting had to have more of a purpose than just survival. I barely struggled; all things considered, I didn¡¯t even come all that close to death. I didn¡¯t know why I had such an easy time while half the town was getting destroyed. It made everything just feel¡­.


    I found myself before a particularly large collection of rubble. At some point, I gave up on finding survivors and wandered farther into the city. There was something familiar about the area, which pulled me out of my thoughts. It was just this building that was destroyed. Every building around it was still standing, completely undamaged, and the fact that they were was what let me pick up on where I was. This was the Forge, what was left of it. It should have been the most stable and safe building in the city. As I stood there, it started to rain lightly. I looked up to see the clouds had returned.


    I stepped into the rubble. The building was big to begin with, with a large footprint and high walls, and the pile of rubble it had become was similarly large. There were large chunks of stones interwoven with wooden beams, the collections of rubble in some places nearly as tall as I was. My memory of the place was overlayed onto the scene in front of me. I started to sift through the rubble. It wasn¡¯t long before I found a limb. I kept a mental note of where it was and moved on. I went through the whole building. I found another body, then another. There were two, sometimes three people who worked here, yet I very quickly found about ten people. I say about because I had no way to know how intact the bodies were. I¡¯d find a leg in one spot and an arm in another, and they very well could¡¯ve been from the same person.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    It didn¡¯t take long to figure out why so many people were here. Before the big event started, the clerk offered me shelter, and given her personality, it was likely she extended the offer to the people nearby who were still around. Focusing all the people into one area drew all the beasts¡¯ attention to this one building, and it seemed they all placed too much faith in the walls around them. That, or someone left the door open. It didn¡¯t matter either way, the result was the same.


    I walked back to the first body I found, which was about where the front desk was. I knew who it was, but I still wanted to confirm it, which only took a few seconds of clearing rubble. It was her. She had stayed at the front desk until the end. It was admirable. I could only sigh. I chose to fight, what should have been the most dangerous path, and ended up stumbling into the one person in the city who could make it possible, all while only thinking about keeping myself alive; she chose what should¡¯ve been the safest path, staying in what should¡¯ve been the safest building, and even choosing to try to save as many people as she could. Yet after it all, I was alive, and she was dead. It really made everything just feel¡­


    Pointless.


    Sighing again, I looked around the rubble again. My eyes landed on what used to be the weapon storeroom. My mace was bent to the point of being almost unusable and my sword was completely broken. The memory of the last conversation I had with the clerk flashed through my mind. Her scolding me for never really buying anything was an oddly comforting experience; she would use almost the exact same words and phrasing every time. I smiled softly.


    I spent a bit sorting through the rubble of the storeroom. The weapons were unsorted to begin with, but it was somehow even worse now. Many of them were broken, or at the very least chipped and dented. As always, there was nothing I particularly wanted, although now I had a valid excuse. I kept looking though, now determined. I found a few weapons that were more or less intact, but they were all daggers, knives, and flails. The small size made them much harder to break, and chips on a smaller blade were easier to buff out. It was just unfortunate I didn¡¯t know how to fight with them.


    Just before I gave up, I decided to check one more spot. In what used to be the inside corner of the room were a few particularly large pieces of stone and wood. They¡¯d be difficult to move, but their size would leave gaps that could let weapons survive. It was worth checking.


    It wasn¡¯t as difficult to move stuff as I thought it would be. Clearing the last piece, I was hit with a wave of a strange sadness. It was then I remembered that this corner was where they had stored the ¡°recovered¡± weapons. The messy pile of weapons remained, somehow undamaged. I started sorting through them, but something quickly became apparent to me. Each of the weapons I pulled off the pile did nothing to diminish the pain of loss I could feel. It was intriguing. I kept pulling more and more weapons off the pile, and the aura around it only got stronger. Eventually there was only one sword left.


    It was a fairly simple longsword. The hilt was plain, wrapped in leather with a small round pommel. The blade about three feet long and few inches wide at the base, with a shallow groove down the middle. It was moderately weathered, but still sturdy and certainly useable. There were only two odd things about it. The first was the complete lack of a guard; the second was the adornment of a snake wrapped at an angle around the base of the blade. It formed an oval, serving to hide the joining of the blade with the hilt, leaving more of the metal exposed on one side than the other. This was the source of the pain radiating from the pile of weapons. It was a bit longer than the sword I had been using, but it¡¯d work.


    I picked it up and examined it closer. What I had taken to be weathering was actually an intricate web of scratches, but the blade was otherwise incredibly well kept. Even after so much time and having a building collapse on it, the edge was perfect and razor sharp. The only sign that it had been used was that the hilt had a clear coating of sweat and the leather was nearly worn away in parts. Even with the wear, or perhaps because of it, the grip was comfortable, and the sword was well balanced. It had been well loved while it was in use, and its forceful separation from its owner caused both of them an immense pain. Given its company here, there was likely no chance of it being reunited with its owner. I had a few coins left in my pockets, not enough to cover the cost of the sword, but I still placed them in a neat stack where the sword once was. I replaced the broken sword with the new one, finding that the width of the hilt at the base of the blade stretched the sword loop on my belt just enough for the snake ring to catch on it. Due to the angle the snake was placed at, the sword sat at a fairly steep angle, which actually made it easier to draw. I patted it softly against my hip.


    ¡°Let¡¯s find you a new purpose.¡±


    I felt its pain lessen a little.


    ***


    By the time I made it to the town hall, the four of them were already waiting outside. The Mayor now had crutches, clearly fashioned from some scrap wood. He was putting weight on his former bad leg, likely only because he now had four people around him who could act as his arms. Bear had a large crate strapped to his back, containing, I assumed, whatever they wanted to get from the town hall.


    ¡°Sorry to keep you all waiting.¡±


    ¡°Find anyone?¡±


    ¡°Sort of.¡±


    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s get going then.¡±

 Part 30

    What happens when we die?


    Lecture given in Sancreus Academy of the Clergy.


    Condensed version, provided for reference to students.


    ¡°What happens after death? It¡¯s certainly an interesting question for us to ponder. Surely, there has to be an answer, yes? We surely cannot simply disappear once our time is up, can we?


    There is the obvious which bears mentioning, of course. Souls are given their last rites and the bodies are burned, thereby freeing the soul from the vessel it inhabits. This is common knowledge to all of us, and I¡¯m sure many of you have experienced this process yourself, hopefully as an observer.


    But this brings up a number of important questions for us, the still living, to consider. How do we know the soul remains in the body until after death? What would happen if there were no rites given before the body was destroyed? What if the body was never destroyed? How can we be sure of the truth of any of these answers? I¡¯m sure there are some people out there who know the answers to these questions, and I encourage all of you, once you truly begin your lives, to seek those people out and have them grant you answers to your questions. Better yet, find the answers yourselves. For now though, I will tell you what you are to know about this matter.


    When we die, our souls will enter into a sort of low-energy state, easily manipulated by external forces. This therefore allows for the tethers holding the soul to the body and the world to be broken. The burning of the body breaks that tether while the reading of the final rites breaks the tether to the world. Having nothing holding it, the soul is allowed to freely leave this mortal realm and travel somewhere else, which is where we get to the part I¡¯m sure you all have been wondering about.


    I¡¯m afraid my answer will disappoint you, however. The official stance of the Church is that the energy that comprises our souls will merge with the energies of the Sleeping God and the Great Serpent, later being given a new physical form for the process to be repeated. Frankly, we have no reason to doubt this, but neither do have reason to believe it. There has never been a firsthand account to verify this claim. People have been brought back to life before, yes, but only in special cases where the ¡°death¡± of the body was able to be reversed. In such cases, particular measures were taken to keep the soul in the body and as close to ¡°alive¡± as possible. There has been no instance of a soul being removed from a body and the body being revived afterwards. This leads me, as well as many others, to believe that the soul loses its consciousness upon ¡°true¡± death, thereby rendering it unable to find its way back into the body.


    The rather depressing outcome of this is that it doesn¡¯t matter what happens after our death, as we won¡¯t be alive to experience it. In the meantime, just believe whatever lets you sleep easiest.¡±


    ***


    We walked for a bit before stopping just outside the city. Bear set his crate on the ground while Erin pulled out a small bag. She reached in and pulled out a handful of metal stakes, giving them to Bear.


    ¡°Twenty-five. You go left, I¡¯ll go right.¡±


    Bear took the stakes, and I noticed during the hand off that each one was made to look like a snake coiled around a dowel. The tail of the snake was the tip of the stake, while the head of the snake was resting flat on the other end of it. Immediately after the handoff, they both took off at a jog in opposite directions around the city. After a good distance, they stopped and put one of the stakes in the ground, then kept moving.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡±


    ¡°Putting stakes in the ground around the city. We¡¯ll leave when they get back.¡±


    ¡°Very helpful explanation, thank you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll know what¡¯s happening when it happens. No need for me to explain it now. Besides, you managed to find a new weapon when I told you to find people, and I¡¯m curious how that happened.¡±


    ¡°I looked through the rubble for a while and eventually ended up at the Forge. This was buried in a corner and completely intact, and I figured I¡¯d stop on a positive note. It¡¯s not like I was going to find anyone anyway.¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I pulled out the sword and looked at it again. The Mayor took a few steps towards me, looking curiously at the sword.


    ¡°It¡¯s an interesting make. I¡¯ve been around for longer than almost anyone, and I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen anything like it. The only thing I can say about it is that it misses its owner and it¡¯s probably special.¡±


    ¡°Special?¡±


    ¡°It has a similar feeling to the weapons the Church makes for Heroes, but I was sure I¡¯d seen every one of those. So, I¡¯m either wrong, or that¡¯s a very special sword indeed.¡±


    ¡°Okay. What do I do with this information?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but you might want to be careful in case you bump into the real owner of it.¡±


    ¡°It was in a pile of weapons recovered from the field. I don¡¯t think its owner is still walking around.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ probably not. Actually, there should be a way to check. You can¡¯t externalize your magic, right?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. I forgot you haven¡¯t had an education yet. The crash course explanation is that everyone has magic in them, which some people can externalize while other people can only use internally. This is essentially what differentiates melee fighters from ¡®magic users¡¯, even though everyone technically uses magic. If you haven¡¯t used any magic to fight by now, it probably means you can¡¯t. That¡¯s all to say, you can ¡®claim¡¯ a weapon by putting magic into it. It usually doesn¡¯t change the useability of a weapon much, but for the ones made by the Church, a person¡¯s unique magic can change the properties of the weapon and make it reject other users. They make their weapons like this to make it much more difficult for them to get stolen, even though we aren¡¯t supposed to let them out of our sight.¡±


    ¡°We?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Anyway, since your sword seems to be similar to the Hero weapons, you might be able to claim it. If you can, it means the owner is dead, or hasn¡¯t touched it in centuries; if you can¡¯t, it means that the owner is either still alive, or that it just seems like a Hero weapon, even though it isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So how do I ¡®put magic¡¯ into it?¡±


    ¡°Well therein lies the crux of the matter. You can¡¯t externalize magic, so you¡¯ll have to go with the other option. Blood.¡±


    ¡°Blood?¡±


    ¡°You still have magic in you, which is carried throughout your body by your blood. Therefore, spill some blood over the sword and your magic will go into it. Simple.¡±


    ¡°So just cut myself with it?¡±


    ¡°Yep. I recommend your palm and not your throat, but I trust you to make your own decisions.¡±


    I brought the tip of the sword to my palm, carefully making a small prick on my palm. A few beads of blood came out, running a ways down the blade before the surface tension broke. Nothing else happened.


    ¡°Did it work?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea. Does it feel any different?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Strange. Try it again.¡±


    I did the same thing, but it didn¡¯t cut this time. I ran my thumb around the length of the blade, but it still didn¡¯t cut. It still looked razor sharp, but I had somehow dull.


    ¡°It won¡¯t cut.¡±


    ¡°Strange. I think that means it worked. Let me try it.¡±


    He walked closer to me and held out his arm.


    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡±


    ¡°Just draw it across my arm lightly. Not cutting you might be a perk of it, or something else happened with it, which would honestly be more interesting.¡±


    I raised the sword and placed the edge gently on his outstretched arm. Before I could even move it, it sank into his flesh. He dropped his arm away almost instantly, and I pulled the sword back. It drew blood, which beaded up and quickly ran off the sword, leaving it spotless. He presented his arm again, and I could see about a quarter inch deep cut.


    ¡°I think the sword is yours now.¡±


    I said nothing, just looking at it in stunned silence. The Mayor was looking at it with a strange expression. The kid had been watching silently the whole time, looking intently at the sword. I put it away, looking up to see Bear and Erin were almost back. When they made it to us, Bear grabbed his crate-pack off the ground while Erin walked up to the Mayor.


    ¡°Everything is in place.¡±


    ¡°Good. Do your thing.¡±


    She walked a ways away from us, towards the city. She then raised her hands in front of her. After a few seconds, they started to glow with a pale gold-white light.


    ¡°May these souls find peace in the nothing,


    May they find their place in the dreams of our Sleeping God,¡±


    Fifty golden-edged white snakes shot into the sky from around the city, piercing through the clouds.


    ¡°May their light shine forever in the eyes of the Great Serpent, and


    May their energy be used to stave off the night.¡±


    Each of the snakes began to glow strongly, their light forming a cylindrical wall that encased the city.


    ¡°Let these souls experience the eternal truth,


    Let these souls be free of the shackles of their bodies,


    Let these souls be unshackled from our impure, mortal realm, and


    Let us join them when our time comes.¡±


    A great pillar of white fire erupted from the middle of the city, completely engulfing it. It radiated a blinding light, completely obscuring the view of the city. There was no heat, which wasn¡¯t a bad thing with how close we were. It lasted about a second before the whole thing dissipated in an instant, as if it never existed. The clouds were unaffected; the city was gone. All that was left was about a mile-wide dirt circle. Everything was gone, just like that. We stood there silently for a few seconds.


    ¡°Welp, time to hit the road. Our job here is done.¡±


    The four of them turned around and started walking. I took a final look at the barren patch of dirt before turning and joining them.


    ¡°What about the stakes? Do you not want them back?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re single use.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    We walked for a few minutes.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°The capital. You have a new job.¡±


    ***


    End of Prologue.

 31 - Interlude & Traveling

    The last words my mother spoke to me.


    Excerpted from the Dreamwalker¡¯s autobiography.


    Date written: unknown.


    Copies disseminated during the reign of the Dreamwalker.


    "''Goodbye, my son. I should have known this cruel world would never let an old woman such as I lead a happy life, much less bring forth a new, untainted soul. My only wish is that this misfortune could have been shouldered by myself alone. How it pains me so to see you. Nearing your first full year of life and never once able to observe the beauty of the world.


    Not once have you been able to see the small birds flutter through swaying branches, riding the wind free of any of our worries. Never have you seen the love in my eyes each and every time I hold you. Even now as I hold you for what may be the last time, my only wish is that I could share even a small portion of my own senses with you. My greatest wish now is to see you smile just once in your short life.


    However, I cannot help but be relieved. From the moment you were born, I knew you were destined for greatness. If not for that, why would the heavens strike you down as they have? I know because of this that your life would have been filled with a pain and burden greater than anyone else has ever been forced to bear. I cannot help but hate myself for thinking like this, but I can only ask for your forgiveness. There should be no mother that wishes to see their child in pain. Let the fathers be the ones to wish for the suffering that pushes their children towards greatness and allow us mothers to hope that you can live a life free of pain and despair, free from the agony that infects life in this world.


    I would have loved to see you ascend to the peak of this world, to overcome the misery of this existence, to bring us a new light to follow in the eternal night, but all my dreams of your future have long been shattered. I can only hope your soul finds peace in its endless wanderings of the void. I can only hope that you remember my love for you if you are ever lost in the unwaking dream. I can only pray to whatever may hear me and ask for your safety. For now though, I will hold you. I will let you know the warmth of a mother''s love for as long as you remain in this waking nightmare known as life.


    Rest now, my son. Allow yourself to be pulled into the night. Let the pain you''ve experienced be left in your body. Let your soul be birthed anew, with the only remnant of this life being the warm embrace I share with you now. May your final dream be one of serenity, order, and love, and hopefully, of this last moment I have been able to share with you, my greatest joy.''


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    She did not cry. I believe she had long become accustomed to the agony of this nightmare we refer to as life. Fortunately for me, for all of us, her prayers were answered. I swam safely through the endless void and crawled my way out of the bottomless night. The love a mother can show for her child should not be underestimated, as even someone such as myself would be hard pressed to find something that could combat the corruption of a God."


    ***


    We stopped in Aarkile after about half a day of walking. We all needed rest after the day we had. There was also no way we were going to walk all the way to the capital, especially with the Mayors bum legs, so we were going to rent a carriage.


    Bear, the kid, and I were tasked with getting accommodations for the night, while Erin and the Mayor went to get mail. Apparently, certain communications were blocked from being sent to the fringe cities ¨C something about it getting intercepted in the past.


    Aarkile was a proper city, making the city we came from look like a small village. The hotel we went to was a five story building, much fancier than any building I had ever seen. Bear produced a badge of some kind when we got to the concierge and asked for three rooms. We were given the three keys with no further questions.


    Instead of immediately going to the rooms, we went out to meet with the other two. Bear seemed to get uncomfortable being away from the Mayor for too long, but I might¡¯ve been looking into it too much. We met with them about halfway there, each of them holding a sizeable stack of letters. The Mayor started talking with Bear about accommodations. Erin was staring off into the distance with unfocused eyes; the flesh under her nails was white. I didn¡¯t ask.


    The Mayor asked which hotel we had picked, saying something about it being the ¡°good one¡±. He seemed excited. It was also made clear how the rooms were split up. The kid and I would share one, Erin would have one to herself, and the Mayor and Bear would be in the last one.


    The rooms we had at the hotel were on the top floor, giving us a good view out over the city. They were decadent, almost uncomfortably so. They were the only rooms on the floor, each on a corner, with a common room in the remaining space. The stairs leading up to the floor even had a locked hatch. It was truly the height of luxury. We left most of our stuff in our rooms and went to the hotel¡¯s restaurant for dinner.


    That night, I heard crying through the wall between my room and Erin¡¯s.


    ***


    We got a carriage the next morning. We¡¯d make it to the capital in two days.


    At some point, I realized I shouldn¡¯t be thinking of the Mayor as ¡°the Mayor¡±, since his town no longer existed. I asked what I should call him. He said most people call him Owl. I probably should¡¯ve figured that out.

 Beginning of Arc 1: Bittersweet; 32 - City of Eternal Twilight

    The storm system that had blown through, the one we left behind in the fringe city, had caused some flooding in the area, which left the roads muddier than expected. It wasn¡¯t until early afternoon on our third day of traveling that the capital came into view. It was a spectacular sight, unlike anything I had seen, yet somehow still somewhat familiar. The unceasing night of the world was seemingly held back over the sky of the capital. Golden rays of light spilled from soft, white clouds, causing long shadows to trail from every building. The whole city had a splendor that radiated for miles.


    As we got closer, the scale truly hit me. The city was surrounded by a fifty-foot wall with towers placed periodically along it, but even that was dwarfed by what it protected. In the middle of the city sat a palace made of concentric rings of golden crystal. The layers were irregular, with varying heights and non-regular diameters, which made it even more imposing. The rings converged on a central spire that stretched into the sky for what looked like triple the height of the walls. But no matter how grand this palace was, it was dwarfed by the crystal statue of serpentine figure with six pairs of wings and myriad legs that was coiled around the entire palace from the base to the tip of the central structure. Being made of a clear crystal, it was transparent, but it refracted the light that shone through it, creating a sort of kaleidoscopic image of the palace within its body.


    ¡°Close your mouth. You¡¯ll catch flies with it open that wide.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah, sure, sorry.¡±


    ***


    There was a small collection of buildings at the base of the wall, one of which was a frankly incredible stable with space for dozens of horses, which is where we dumped the carriage. The other buildings didn¡¯t quite constitute a town. There were no houses, instead there were a number of hotels and restaurants, all of extremely varying qualities. Everything was built on a grid, and the orderliness of it was throwing me off.


    ¡°I¡¯m not used to being able to see this far down streets.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, get used to it. The grid of the city proper may be circular, but it¡¯s big enough and the streets are wide enough to give you plenty of anxiety. For the time being, focus on what¡¯s down the streets. Notice how the buildings get worse farther away from the main street? Tell me why.¡±


    ¡°The land near the road is more expensive? I think I heard someone talk about the buildings around the courtyard being way more expensive than the rest of the buildings in town.¡±


    ¡°True, but the money they¡¯d gain from being on the main street would more than make up for the initial purchase and operating costs, especially with how low the initial purchase and operating costs would be; I mean, just look at them. They can¡¯t cost that much.¡±


    ¡°Alright, so you either asked me a question to show how much more you know than me or to teach me something. Which is it?¡±


    ¡°Fast learner. Good. Then I have two things to teach you. The first is that two things can be true at once. The second is that economic disparity has physical reflections. In this case, areas intended for lower classes are kept distinct from areas intended for upper classes. What are the reasons for this?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t have the money, but you said reasons, which means there¡¯s more to it.¡±


    ¡°Astute observation. We¡¯ll be at the portcullis shortly, and I have another question to ask, so spin those gears faster.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just that easy. Can I at least get a hint?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Erin?¡±


    ¡°Where did you live in your town?¡±


    ¡°A small apartment in the middle of the front area. Why?¡±


    ¡°How would you feel living in a mansion?¡±


    ¡°How should I¡­ oh I see your point. Big, fancy spaces are scary. So, people like to stick with what they¡¯re used to?¡±


    ¡°They do, yes.¡±


    ¡°Okay, two things. First of all, Erin, I told you to give him a hint, not give him an answer. Secondly, that¡¯s about half of it. People don¡¯t like to deviate from what they¡¯re accustomed to, you¡¯re right, but that works both ways. People used to king-sized beds and bedrooms the size of entire apartments get claustrophobic in single-story buildings just the same as people who¡¯ve only worn rags and hardly know privacy would get uncomfortable with¡­ I don¡¯t know, marble floors and shower curtains or something. You get the point. People will keep themselves separated, usually by parameters they themselves choose, and of course, that leaves people as the second half of this. As a general rule, poorer folks don¡¯t like to deal with uppity rich folks and vice versa. It¡¯s especially funny when they both think it¡¯s beneath them to deal with the other.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Good to know.¡±


    ¡°Riveting response, thank you. Now, look at the wall. What do you notice?¡±


    In the time we had been talking, we continued our approach towards the wall. There was a line of people stretching out a few blocks from the wall, many looking tired and the rest impatient. They were all lining up to get into a gate at the base of the wall. It wasn¡¯t even the height of two people and barely wide enough to fit three, and on either side of it was a guard clad in shining silver-grey full plate armor holding a halberd the height of them and a half. Each of these guards stood at least a head above the people in line. Similar guards were stationed in Aarkile, but their armor was a matte gray which bordered on black, and their weapons were varied, likely based on the preference of each guard.


    The town at the base of the wall didn¡¯t actually each the base of the wall, something I noticed once we passed the end of the line. I had moved to get in line but caught myself after seeing everyone else keep walking. The people impatiently waiting threw us angry glances, but they didn¡¯t say anything on account of the giant that was Bear walking with us. Just past the end of the line, the buildings stopped abruptly. There was an empty space of about two blocks between the base of the wall and the edge of the town.


    ¡°You mean the people or the comically small gate?¡±


    ¡°Portcullis, and yes. That and the space at the base of the wall. Why?¡±


    ¡°The gate almost looks like it¡¯s an afterthought, like they built the wall then knocked a hole out to put a gate in. As for the space, I assume they just don¡¯t want people getting close to the wall without being seen.¡±


    ¡°Wrong on every account, but don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll get better with time. First of all, it isn¡¯t a gate, it¡¯s a portcullis. A gate is just something that optionally stops passage through a¡­ well, passage, and almost always swings horizontally, whereas a portcullis is specifically a vertical gate that can be quickly dropped to stop enemies when needed. It¡¯s a very important difference.¡±


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Okay, sure, it¡¯s important, I guess, but why do you care so much about it?¡±


    ¡°Because, when you get to my age you start needing to find things to entertain you, and sometimes being really nitpicky about something random just to get a reaction out of people is funny.¡±


    ¡°There are four of us walking with you. Why not just talk to us to keep yourself entertained?¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding? You¡¯re the only one who¡¯s spoken more than a dozen words this whole trip, and half of them have been right now. I didn¡¯t pick Bear and Erin because they were entertaining; I picked them because they were the best choices for the job I needed to do. But enough of that. I told you your answers were wrong, so come up with new ones.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even remember the question anymore.¡±


    ¡°Humph, fine. The portcullis was actually made as an afterthought, which you somehow guessed even though there¡¯s no evidence supporting that. The rough shape of the walls was constructed with magic, after which they went through and poked holes for the entrances. The reason they made them so small was to severely limit the advance of a wave, should it make it to the city, and even outright stop some of the larger beasts from entering. For the second part, you weren¡¯t wrong in saying that the lack of buildings around the base of the wall prevents people from approaching without being spotted, but that¡¯s only a perk. The real reason is to let us shoot down on the beasts piling up outside the bottleneck of the portcullis without the buildings getting in the way. Now shut up and don¡¯t say anything to make the guards suspicious.¡±


    We had made it to the front of the line of people, incurring spiteful glances the whole while which I did my best to ignore, and were now truly approaching the gate. As we got close, one of the guards stepped forward to intercept us. The Mayor, or rather Owl, reached into his pocket and produced a small icon with a ¡°bet you didn¡¯t expect that¡± grin, holding it uncaringly between the tips of his fingers. I was still getting used to what was to me a new name. The icon he produced, a sort of badge type thing which I never got a clear look at, was simply a piece of metal on a leather backing. It was the same one Bear had shown at the hotel. The guard took a second to look at it before stepping back into his place. Owl then repocketed it and continued forward.


    We passed through the wall completely unmolested. Just inside the vestibule was another pair of guards, followed by two more pairs at the halfway point, guards two doors on either side of the hall, followed by a final pair at the exiting side. About a third of the way into this tunnel was a cutout in the wall, wherein sat a man checking through the paperwork of everyone who passed. Due to the width of the tunnel, the person who was already being inspected was forced to press himself against the wall to let us pass. The passage through the wall was about thirty feet long, meaning the walls were just as thick. From the outside, it was impossible to gauge their thickness, and the unexpected depth almost made me feel claustrophobic. At the exiting side of the tunnel was another gate, help up like the last one by some unknown mechanism, or a rope, and passing under it, we were finally in the city proper.


    Stretched before us was a street wide enough for dozens of people to walk side by side, made of regularly placed cut stones. It was slightly raised in the middle, sloping into gutters which ran along either side of the street. These gutters denoted the edge of sidewalks, along which were countless shops and restaurants that ran on until hitting a large square with a simple yet elegant marble fountain in the center. The breadth of the street allowed a completely unobstructed view of the entire form of the palace in the center of the city. Rays of soft golden light beamed through fluffy white clouds, dissipating just above the skyline, and bathing the entire city in an orange-gold light.


    I paused for a second on just the other side of the wall, taking the whole sight in. The form of the palace was far more impressive from this much closer. My focus on the view was interrupted when someone who had been waiting on the sidewalk approached us. He was a man with an average build and an unremarkable visage, with short black hair and a clean-shaven face. He was dressed in a simple black suit, neither expensive nor cheap, free of any excess adornments but not lacking in the standard elements. He had a soft smile on his face and was holding something under his arm.


    ¡°Hey, old man.¡±


    ¡°Are we late?¡±


    ¡°No. I told them when about you¡¯d be getting here, and they made the necessary adjustments.¡±


    ¡°Good, then let¡¯s go.¡±


    The man took out what he was holding, which turned out to be a folded wheelchair. Owl took the seat quickly, passing his crutches to Bear, who slid them between his back and his crate. We started moving right after he sat down, the new addition to our party pushing the wheelchair. I noticed him give me a questioning look, and I gave him much the same type of look, but neither of us said anything. Everyone was calm, but there was a strange feeling in the air, something close to urgency and anxiety, like they didn¡¯t want to be here but didn¡¯t want to move. Unfortunately for them, the streets were completely empty, with nothing and no one to slow them down.


    We walked for a while, which gave me time to soak in the size of the city. We kept on this main street, seemingly headed straight for the central palace. Every building around us had multiple floors, something I was unused to. The width of the street helped to stave off a feeling of claustrophobia, but only to a certain extent. What didn¡¯t help was that every building felt the same. There were differences, of course, but the architecture was all the same, the materials were all the same, the height was almost all the same. There was an uncomfortable amount of order to it all, at least to me, having just come out of a completely disorderly, unplanned, and chaotic mess of a city that I had nonetheless become accustomed to.


    As we passed through the square with the fountain, I looked down the two streets on either side. To my left was more of the same of what I had already seen. To my right, however, the pattern broke. A ways down the street, the buildings, multi-level and always made of the same white brick, turned to single story, wooden things. Some even seemed to have simple blankets tossed over them, although I couldn¡¯t be sure due to the distance I was observing from. To my understanding, we had entered from the north side of the city, meaning this section, which was clearly the slums of the city, occupied the northwest quadrant, minus a bit of area. It was a bit off-putting to me; the city was uncomfortably opulent up until an arbitrary line, wherein it became run-down and grimy.


    I knew there were poor people, of course. The town I had just come from was only a step above these slums, and we had just discussed the way the different classes viewed each other, so seeing wasn¡¯t exactly surprising. It wasn¡¯t the presence of the slums that made me uncomfortable, which should¡¯ve been a given but still took me a bit to realize, but rather it was the juxtaposition of the slums to the rest of the city that threw me off. To go from such luxury to such poverty, in the span of what I assumed to be a single street no less, seemed simply unnatural, but I didn¡¯t believe this was something the city itself would¡¯ve implemented. Of course, I had no way to know one way or the other, and frankly, it didn¡¯t matter; no matter what the reason for its existence was, it existed, and there wasn¡¯t anything I could do about it. Putting that out of my mind, my thoughts started to wander to other topics.


    Something I had noticed, although I didn¡¯t think about it too carefully until now, was that the street we were walking down and all the streets I could see down were completely devoid of people. I had seen empty streets before, usually during especially bad weather, but even then, there were people with business to attend to that required them to be outside. I would¡¯ve expected to see at least a couple of people here and there, even if infrequent, but there was no one. Even after nearly half an hour of walking, there was no one.


    By now, we were nearly at the center of the city. There was a wide street that wrapped around the palace, the same width as the main street we were on. Being this close, the scale of the palace, and by extension the statue built upon it, were far more evident, seemingly reaching into the veil of the sky itself and completely dwarfing all the buildings in the city. It took us another few minutes to walk around it. As we approached the other side of the palace, the south side, the sound of a large crowd began to fill the air. It wasn¡¯t loud, the people were clearly trying to be quiet, or perhaps instructed to be, but a large group is bound to make noise no matter what¡¯s done to prevent it. Soon after, the source came into view.


    On the south side of the palace was a massive square area. There were other squares in the town, but this was truly the town square. There were thousands, even tens of thousands of people crowded in this square, enough to where the noise they were making was impressively quiet. At one end of this square, a large wooden platform had been placed, clearly temporary, but still of high quality. There were a comparably small number of people on this platform, only a few dozen, but they were made to look even less by the fact that they were all stood around the center of the platform. Near the front of the platform were two noticeable things. The first was a wooden podium, behind which stood a man in white clothes. The second was a wooden box big enough to fit a person of average build; a coffin.

 33 - Funeral

    Owl naturally led our small party of six, both being the leader of the group and because the new addition to our group was pushing the wheelchair out in front of everyone. Erin and Bear flanked the new man, with me and the kid trailing behind. Our entire walk to this apparent funeral had been completed in silence. The four people walking in front of me were surrounded by a strange air; asking them questions didn¡¯t seem right and they certainly weren¡¯t inclined to talk.


    My eyes were glued to the crowd during the last stretch of our walk. Gathered in this one square were more people than the entirety of my small town, and all of them were there for a single person. The importance this person held must have been incredible. That, or he was very important to a very important person who could draw all these people here.


    There were stairs built behind the wooden stage, occupying a portion of the street. I expected us to follow the street, but they instead walked up to the stairs. I had no idea what this was really about or what I was even in the city for, so I followed. Owl stood up, and Bear swiftly handed him his crutches. The chair pusher folded his namesake up and tucked it back under his arm. Owl and Erin then shared a look before ascending the stairs together, with Bear and Chair Pusher following them. I threw a quick glance around me, and it was only at this point I realized the kid was no longer with us, leaving me to trail our small procession alone.


    We drew a few gazes from the people on the stage, a few dozen total. They made me uneasy, but everyone else just ignored them, and I tried to follow their example. I fell in line at the very back of the crowd, feeling very out of place. My eyes were darting from person to person, each giving me a strange vibe. Their outward ages ranged from mid-thirties to ancient, but even the youngest of them gave me the feeling that they were much older than they looked. As I scrutinized these people from behind, I felt them doing the same. Some were less discrete, physically turning their heads to look at me, but most seemed to be using some type of magic to inspect me without looking at me. As I picked up on this feeling, I caught a certain shimmering out of the corner of my eye that dissipated as soon as I tried to look at it. As soon as I switched my focus to something else, it appeared in my periphery again.


    It was visual version of a mosquito buzzing around my ear. I wanted to leave, but drawing more attention didn¡¯t seem like the best course of action. I did what I could to ignore it, but I only grew more and more irritated by it. My hands moved to my belt, trying to find something to fiddle with to take my mind off it. One hand fell naturally to my sword, which I had honestly almost forgotten about. I absentmindedly started thumbing the snake carving that served as a cross guard. It helped to make the experience less annoying, but that only really served to let my mind focus on how much I wanted this experience to end. As that thought flashed through my mind, I felt the sword vibrate a little. Immediately following that, a shockwave comprised of a similar shimmering energy silently and violently exploded from the sword, tinged with an ethereal gray. The wave pushed away the preexisting energy, leaving the air completely clear. As it cleared, so did the feeling of being watched. The looks people were giving me also stopped. The whole thing happened in under a minute.


    After the small commotion from both the stage group and the crowd subsided, a man stepped forward to the small podium placed beside the coffin. He had thin, white hair and was wrapped in a gold-edged white cloak. The second he stepped up to the podium, all the noise from the crowd stopped instantly. He began to speak, his voice falling like a soft blanket over the crowd. He spoke in a grandiose manner, going on about the values of the Church and how this man stood as a shining example of them. Even given his name, I didn¡¯t know the man, nor did I know the man delivering his eulogy. It made me realize I needed to do some studying.


    The eulogy didn¡¯t last long, which was good for me since I found it very boring. His final sentence caught my attention though.


    ¡°Now, as per the request of the deceased, only two people will be speaking today, after myself. The first to speak, for which we are ever thankful for, is his daughter.¡±


    Then Erin stepped forward. She spoke with a voice that seemed to just appear next to our ears, making everyone feel as though she was speaking just to them.


    ¡°Thank you all for coming, though I know only the people behind me ever knew my father personally. As I¡¯m sure you can tell, I was brought into this world very late into my father¡¯s life. For nearly all my life, I was witness to my father¡¯s declining health. Much like all of you, most of what I knew about my father came from the stories and legends built around him over the centuries; much like all of you, I never saw my father do anything to warrant his legend. I only ever truly knew him as a dying old man. I don¡¯t say this in attempt to posthumously tarnish his image, but rather to share a side of the old man only I was privy to.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Even in his declining state, he still strove actively to be as good a father as any other. He would teach me verbally, as much content as he could. He would read to me as a child stories of the world, often offering his own insights as he did; as I aged, the stories became more realistic, bereft of the black and white storybook worlds of childhood. Early on, he would speak to me for hours at a time, always happy to indulge my curiosity at any time. These sessions would decrease in both time and frequency as his health declined, until he was eventually left with no choice but to hire other people to teach me, something his position allowed him to do comfortably. I still remember the pain in his eyes when he told me he couldn¡¯t do it himself anymore.


    ¡°Even without him directly teaching me, I would continue to see my father regularly, albeit with decreasing frequency, until only a few years ago. In what I understand now to be an attempt to spare me from witnessing his final decline, he asked me to accompany one of his friends watching over a fringe city. I was only able to see him one more time after that; I only learned of his passing days after it happened, and partly by chance at that. I will be eternally regretful for not being present at the time of his passing. I didn¡¯t even see him before they put him in the coffin.


    She shot a glare at the member of the church who was running the funeral. He avoided her gaze.


    ¡°And now we¡¯re here. My father is dead; time goes on. Whether or not I want to continue on without him, the choice isn¡¯t mine to make. The gears of time grind into infinitesimal eternity, as they say. My father always hated pointless speeches like this, and I feel I¡¯ve said my piece. I will now make way for the second and final speaker.¡±


    She stepped back and Owl went forward. Even with crutches, he radiated power; even in a weakened state, he still stood above everyone else. There was a certain excitement that rippled through the crowd when he approached the podium. If it was the influence of the man in the box that brought everyone here, it was him that was now making them stay. When he spoke, his voice rang over the square like thunder. The people in the front few rows of the crowd physically flinched. He didn¡¯t speak with any strong emotion; there was no strong anger or sadness. There was almost no emotion, apart from a vague somberness.


    ¡°Two millennia. Two thousand, one hundred years and some change is how long we knew each other, long enough for a friendship to become normality. Now, that normal, built over centuries and held for millennia, is broken. That is what I mourn most of all. We grieve that which we know we have lost forever. I mourn not the loss of a dear friend, for his place in my mind will remain the same as it always was. He will never be forgotten, and although there will be no new experiences shared between us, I do not regret that.


    ¡°It is the natural course of all things to return to nothing, to embark on a final journey into nonexistence. I believe to feel grief at that fact, and especially fear, is pointless. What is far more frightening is knowing that one day, even the dearest of memories will fade, and with it so too will die whatever was contained within those memories. I have seen this happen already with many I have considered friends, and that is what I truly regret; the fact I couldn¡¯t do more to preserve their legacy will continue to haunt me. But what can be done about it? Nothing. Such is how worldly events transpire.


    ¡°The past has passed, and there is nothing we in the present are capable of changing within it. We can instead only learn to live with the effects. But this fact is what makes the human experience so special, for the ability to undo events, to never make a mistake, would be far more disastrous to our collective psyche than any unfortunate event. We are nothing more than the sum of our parts, parts built atop our experiences, good and bad, and parts that are ever changing based on those experiences. Our stories continue to be written every day we live, and the only true end to a story is wherever the audience stops paying attention.


    ¡°This is why, if you do nothing else, I ask that you do everything in your power to maintain the presence of those whose stories may so easily be halted. It is for this reason I continue to live, to carry on the stories of all the great men and women lost to the violent churning of the river of time. I am the last of my generation. I am the oldest mortal being in this world. I will not let this time go to waste. I am determined to witness as far into eternity as I am allowed. I will not allow death to be the end for as many souls as I am blessed to encounter.¡±


    The final part of the speech caused a number of people in the crowd to weep, and even some of the people on the stage I could tell were moved. The most remarkable thing, however, was the number of people in the crowd smiling. The world was, is, full of loss; everyone has lost something, be it people or otherwise. It was something everyone had to deal with, often alone, so to hear, and see, someone they viewed as a paragon of strength tell them how to repurpose and recontextualize their grief must have been incredibly cathartic, I think.


    The man who initiated this event then stepped up to the coffin and raised his hands before him, but he withdrew them quickly before doing anything. He then looked back towards Erin and gestured her forward, taking a step to the side to make room for her. The two of them then raised their hands above the coffin and began to chant, joined by a chorus of myriad voices.


    ¡°May this soul find peace in the nothing,


    May it find its place in the dreams of our Sleeping God,


    May its light shine forever in the eyes of the Great Serpent, and


    May its energy be used to stave off the night.


    Let this soul experience the eternal truth,


    Let this soul be free of the shackles of its body,


    Let this soul be unshackled from our impure, mortal realm, and


    Let us join it when our time comes.¡±


    In a flash of white fire, the coffin was gone.

 34 - Wake

    After the coffin disappeared, there was silence. The air seemed to hum with a certain magic following the prayer, but otherwise there was no movement.


    Eventually, however, motion returned to the scene. The moment Erin and the man lowered their hands, people at the edges of the crowd began to shuffle away. Erin returned to her spot with the four of us, not looking at anyone. No one spoke.


    It was a surreal feeling for me. I was only present because I had nowhere else to go, but it was very clear I didn¡¯t belong; this was a very heavy moment for the people around me, yet I had no attachment to any part of it. Observing the lives of others from an outside perspective was nothing new to me, but I was usually thankful, to some extent, for having no involvement in their lives. This was different, though. Surrounded by people I had a reason to be involved with, I was unable to relate to them at all. I wished, for a moment, I could share in their sadness.


    We stood in silence for another moment, collectively deciding to give Erin some time to sort out her thoughts. We didn¡¯t move until we were the last ones on the stage, wherein Owl gave Erin a strong shoulder squeeze, which turned into a brief hug, before moving towards the stairs. After descending the crutches were exchanged for the wheelchair, again, and we started moving through the streets of the city. The crowd had almost entirely dispersed from the square, meaning the streets were crowded. Owl and Erin moved together, and everyone naturally moved around them. The same luxury was not afforded to the rest of us.


    It didn¡¯t take long for me to get separated from the two of them, and it didn¡¯t take long after that to lose sight of Bear¡¯s head above the crowd. I panicked a bit but kept moving down the street we were on. After a few seconds of aimlessly walking, the thought occurred to me that this was what being on ground level during the onset of the wave would¡¯ve felt like, without getting mauled of course. Thinking of it that way, the panic subsided.


    After another short bit of walking, there was a violent tug on my shirt collar, dragging me sideways through the crowd. I ended up on the side of the road, in front of a building. In front of me stood the man that had joined our small group earlier.


    ¡°The others are inside. I won¡¯t be staying.¡±


    ¡°Understood¡­ and thank you, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    He started walking towards the crowd.


    ¡°Hold on a second, I never got your name.¡±


    ¡°People call me Vulper.¡±


    He disappeared into the crowd in the middle of his sentence, leaving his name hovering in the air. The name meant nothing to me, so I shrugged off the experience and walked inside the building.


    What greeted me was a dimly lit, almost cheap-looking restaurant. The tables and chairs were made of wood, with nothing special about them. Each table had a single, decently sized candle on it, which were the only sources of lighting for the place, aside from the front door whenever someone came in. The front wall was stone with no windows, which was the same for the rest of the walls. Even though it was a simple place, it was well kept, without any dust or leftover food or fluid on any surface. It was also nearly silent inside, the stone walls blocking any outside noise and the few people inside barely contributing to it either. I noticed the three people I was looking for at a table in the corner and made my way towards them, noticing that the floors weren¡¯t sticking to my shoes, which was a nice change from what I was used to.


    The table seated four and I took the last available spot. Owl and Bear greeted me with their eyes while Erin was just staring at her hands clasped on the table in front of her. The glow from the candle seemed to only illuminate their faces but was still bright enough to keep my eyes from adjusting to the dark, giving a feeling of isolation from the rest of the restaurant. Eventually, someone arrived with four cups, and the only way I knew they were coming was because I could feel the floorboards flex. The man delivering the drinks was an older looking man, who exchanged looks and a nod with Owl before walking off. He was only lit by the candle for the brief moment he stood by the table, seemingly disappearing into the darkness of the restaurant when he left. The cup given to me just had water in it, but I could smell, even from across the table, that everyone else got something stronger.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    After everyone had had some time to settle in with their drinks, Owl broke the silence.


    ¡°He was happy, in his final moments.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    There was silence.


    ¡°I just wish I could¡¯ve seen him one more time; spent one more day with him, or even an hour; had him tell me one more story. Nothing real or allegorical, just something fun¡­ just one more good memory.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a normal feeling. I knew him for more time than a man should be allowed to live, and I still wish I could¡¯ve seen him one more time. What you¡¯ll find as you continue your journey through life and lose more people you hold close, as it is the tendency of the world to take those people away from you first, is that you will always have that feeling; even if you spend the entire day of their death with them, you will still wish you had more time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly comforting.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t meant to be. There is no true comfort in the face of loss and grief. You either learn to live with it or you don¡¯t. This is the first major loss in your life, and I believe that knowing there are more to come, while not necessarily helpful in the moment, helps you establish a better mindset to deal with it. This feeling can be transitory, but only if you make it so.¡±


    ¡°How do I do that?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a process you¡¯ll need to go through yourself. It could last a week, or it could last years. The better question is, how much of this feeling do you want to get rid of? Missing your loved ones isn¡¯t a bad thing, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know, but it feels like a piece of me has been torn out.¡±


    ¡°That would be because a piece of you has been torn out.¡±


    She just sighed in response.


    ¡°Let me tell you a story. I met your father a nearly incomprehensibly long time ago, and by that point we were both old men by typical standards. We met on the worst day of both our lives, right in the middle of the ¡®Great Cataclysm¡¯, or the Big Familial Pissing Match as I call it, but that¡¯s beside the point. From that day on, we were friends. We saw the end of that war out together, which solidified both our positions in the public eye, something I couldn¡¯t have done without his help, a point he always disagreed with me on.


    ¡°From that point on, from the very first day I truly met him, I never saw him truly smile. Depending on the situation he¡¯d give a polite smile, but never did he ever give a true, happy smile. That was, until the first time he held you.¡±


    He started smiling himself.


    ¡°I was only there because he came to me a nervous wreck when he heard your mother, may she rest in peace, was in labor. That was the most scared I had ever seen him. Even with all the shit he had gone through, everything we had gone through together, that was the only time I ever saw him truly scared. But when he took you out of your mother¡¯s arms, that all melted away, and for the first time, I saw his face break into a true, happy smile. Every day he spent with you after that, for the first few years at least, he had a hard time containing his glee. Even the knowledge that you were around, living happily and healthily, was enough to make him happy. That¡¯s how I know he was happy when he died.¡±


    ¡°It seems you knew a different version of my father than I did.¡±


    ¡°No, he was always the same person. People don¡¯t change, they just adjust which aspect of themselves comes out strongest. That happiness, that desire to have someone that mattered in that way in his life, was always there. I believe the version of him you knew was the truest version of him.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    At some point she started crying. The table descended into silence again. Something had come to mind while Owl was talking, and I decided to share it before the silence became awkward.


    ¡°The memories you have are still there, and their value hasn¡¯t decreased at all. I¡¯d actually say they¡¯ve become more valuable, but that¡¯s beside the point. Those are the same memories you had of him before his death, and you would¡¯ve kept them even if he had kept living. He still exists in those memories, so you have yet to truly lose him. Honestly, I don¡¯t have a lot of great memories, and almost none of my parents, but I feel like it would be better to have some, knowing I won¡¯t get any more, than to have none at all.¡±


    ¡°Well said.¡±


    ¡°I mostly just restated what you said earlier.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but you understood it.¡±


    It was then that Erin sat up fully in her chair and wiped her eyes.


    ¡°Thank you, both of you, but this isn¡¯t something I¡¯m going to get over in a week, much less an hour. I think, right now, I just need some time alone to sort things out.¡±


    She then stood up and left. She had never touched her drink.


    ¡°Well, since she¡¯s not having it, feel free to have her drink.¡±


    I looked at both of their cups. They had both emptied them at some point while I wasn¡¯t looking.


    I picked up her cup and looked into it. It was just water.

 35 - New Position

    Some time passed in silence after Erin left, which I broke to ask about something that had been on my mind.


    ¡°How come you don¡¯t seem to be upset? If you¡¯d known him for as long as you said, I¡¯d expect you to be a little sad, but you seem to be over it already.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not happy about it, sure, but this is far from the first death in my life. These things happen, and if I have no involvement in their happening, I see no reason to be too upset about it. This was a long time coming, which could be said about everyone I realize, but it was clear he didn¡¯t have too long left the last time I saw him. Whether that would be a few months or a few years, I didn¡¯t know, but it was far from unexpected. When you watch someone¡¯s health fail, you start wishing their death comes sooner than later, for their sake. It isn¡¯t a pleasant experience.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you were in a fringe city?¡±


    ¡°There was another matter I was supposed to deal with, but yes. When I was told to be there, I went to see him one more time, and even then, he wasn¡¯t what he was. It was good motivation. Erin only started to notice a while later, and I imagine it wasn¡¯t long after that he sent her to stay with me; with someone he knew would keep her safe until he passed.¡±


    ¡°So why were you out there then? And why did you take Bear with you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to keep the reason I was there a secret, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll learn about it eventually, so don¡¯t worry. And I didn¡¯t take Bear with me, but as for why he was there, I¡¯ll have him explain that.¡±


    ¡°They wanted me to inspect a section of the Veil near there.¡±


    ¡°I know you like to keep your words brief but remember that he doesn¡¯t have any of the context you and I do.¡±


    Bear gave him a questioning look.


    ¡°Use your best judgement. I wont snitch on you if you say something you¡¯re not supposed to.¡±


    ¡°Fine then. There was a weaker section of the Veil around there, and a few months before the wave, an anomalous ripple was detected. Due to its¡­ sensitive location, and with Mr. Owl there, they decided I would be the best fit to investigate.¡±


    ¡°It might also have something to do with the fact that you have better observational skills than all the other options, and you can also handle whatever may come crawling out of there, unlike most everyone else.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all good at what they do, and they¡¯d be sent with a protection detail.¡±


    ¡°Why send ten men when you can send one who counts for one hundred?¡±


    ¡°You flatter me.¡±


    ¡°Not as much as you think. But anyway, that¡¯s the gist of it, kid, excluding the parts they tell us we aren¡¯t supposed to tell people who shouldn¡¯t know, whatever that means.¡±


    By this point, I only understood about half of what they were talking about, and I felt like asking for clarification would only make me more confused. They also didn¡¯t seem too eager to explain more to me either. They responded to my silence in kind. It was a somber sort of silence. Even though I was unaffected by this loss, the affect of it on the two men before me was palpable. The unrelated, arguably meaningless, conversation was a good distraction, but in these moments of silence, the presence of that loss was a deafening roar. I could only imagine what it must be like for Erin, especially since she was, as far as I had heard, the only living proof of her father¡¯s existence; the last.


    ¡°Does Erin have any siblings?¡±


    ¡°No. She is his one and only.¡±


    ¡°This may be a strange question, but what, if anything, does she have to live up to? What sort of legacy did he leave behind? Is she going to go through life always being known as his daughter?¡±


    ¡°People¡¯s thoughts can be very unpredictable, but I don¡¯t think she should have too much trouble being seen as herself. We are far removed from the time when our names were commonplace, far enough to where I imagine people may even question our reality, thinking us nothing but an old, forgotten story; legends who are just that and nothing more. The only people who would know of us well enough for it to potentially be a problem are old enough to know better; all half dozen of them, give or take.¡±


    ¡°The way you speak of yourself makes me feel like I should know who you are.¡±


    ¡°You do know who I am. I¡¯m an old man with two bum legs, formerly just one, who has managed to stick his fingers into many different pies. I think you are really more interested in who I was.¡±


    ¡°You know what I meant.¡±


    ¡°Of course, but watching you get annoyed as I avoid your question is rather fun. If you want to know something, ask directly and specifically; don¡¯t skirt around the topic. You risk being misunderstood or outright lied to if someone wishes you harm and knows how to plead ignorance.¡±


    ¡°Fine then. Who were you?¡±


    ¡°Do you trust me to give you an unbiased answer?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then you have more trust in me than I do. Be more specific or go read a book. I¡¯m sure I¡¯m in at least one.¡±


    I thought for a second. His tone and phrasing implied I would only get to ask one question.


    ¡°What did you mean by ¡®the last of your generation¡¯?¡±


    His face, which had up until now had an amused smirk, turned somber.


    ¡°You¡¯re aware that our history is divided into generations, correct?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Those generations are largely defined by influential events and influential people. I say influential people, but for all intents and purposes, I mean what are now referred to as Heroes. The dawn of this world marked the beginning of the first generation. The people who stood at the top of the world before the Great War became the Heroes of the first generation, all two of them. The Heroes that arose in that war that marked the end of the first gen would later be known as the second-generation Heroes, although the Hero classification system wouldn¡¯t actually come until the third generation.


    ¡°The end of the second generation, in a very literal sense, was another war. The initiation of this war was the simultaneous disappearance of all the second-generation Heroes. This threw the world into chaos and sparked a fracture in the Church, which at the time was the sole governing body. That was the onset of another war, out of which would come the Church of the Serpent, the Cult of the Night, and the electoral people¡¯s government, as well as the third generation of Heroes, which is where I come in. I was one of the many people who rose to the challenge of fixing a world thrown out of balance, and I was one of the few who lived to talk about it. The end of that war and the formation and stabilization of the now three ruling parties would mark the end of the third generation and the beginning of the fourth.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°There were hundreds of people who gained significant strength and experience as a result of that war, and it was those people who became the first official Heroes, with the title being awarded posthumously to the people of the previous generations. From that point on, I watched as our presence in society gradually faded. Once we were living legends, paragons of strength everyone could look up, but we soon became history. After that, we became stories, and after that, we began to be forgotten. Throughout this, I watched as the people I fought with and against, the people who served as living ties to where I came from, slowly died off. When the first one went, it was a period of mourning for all of us; when the hundredth went, it was just unfortunate.


    ¡°And now, I¡¯m the last of the generation. I stand as the oldest Hero who could drop dead at any moment. There are things I¡¯ve experienced that now no one else has. We are on the cusp of my present life becoming purely history. When I die, so too does the third generation, just like the second before it.¡±


    His last sentence was tinged with melancholy. This was the only topic I knew of that would evoke that type of feeling in him.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like talking about yourself much, do you?¡±


    ¡°Hm? What? No, why?¡±


    ¡°I asked you to tell me about yourself, but you instead told me, in rough detail, your place in the world. The two things aren¡¯t the same.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all cogs in a big machine. I had to tell you of the machine to show you what part I have in it.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but, sticking with the metaphor, you told me what other cogs you interact with, but you didn¡¯t tell me how big your cog is or what it¡¯s made of, for instance. You could start by telling me what happened to your leg.¡±


    ¡°I got jumped by two Anglers at once. Oh, you meant the other one. Old age, mostly. Tell you what, if you can get your hands on my personal file, I¡¯ll answer any questions you still have.¡±


    ¡°You have a file? Where is it?¡±


    ¡°Of course I have one, and it¡¯s on the top floor of the central tower in a locked drawer in the Pope¡¯s office.¡±


    ¡°I assume he doesn¡¯t take many visitors?¡±


    ¡°You think you could steal it? There¡¯s nothing that happens in this city he doesn¡¯t know about, let alone his personal office. You could try asking nicely and you might get it, though.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, assuming you could get past the dozens of Clergy-folks and Heroes walking through the halls at any given moment, all of whom would throw you out instantly if they caught you on a floor you weren¡¯t supposed to be on.¡±


    ¡°But I could get it if I asked nicely?¡±


    ¡°Do you have any idea how hard it is to get an audience with the Pope? He cancels meetings all the time, is rarely seen in public, and even most Heroes can¡¯t even see him except for when he wishes it.¡±


    ¡°Most?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m old enough to be an exception to most rules, and he has a number of projects where he effectively contracts people out, who can then see him whenever technically, although it¡¯s technically just status reports.¡±


    ¡°He must have a lot of those projects going on if he¡¯s too busy to meet with people.¡±


    ¡°Nope. He¡¯s just a lazy old man with no respect for other people¡¯s time!¡±


    He raised his voice, loud enough to be heard clearly through the whole room. As he spoke, his eyes locked to something behind me. Right after he finished, the veil that enshrouded our table completely disappeared. Before I could turn around, someone had already walked up from behind me and was sitting down at the chair Erin had vacated.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you too, Owl. In my defense though, you said ¡®the usual spot¡¯ as though it hasn¡¯t been over a century since we last met like this.¡±


    ¡°A century my ass. It was fifteen years ago, when you told me in person to fuck off to the edge of the map and wait until something interesting happened.¡±


    The man that had arrived was bald, with no facial hair apart from his eyebrows which were white, the only thing implying age on his face. His eyes were black, though not an unsettling black like I had seen before, but rather a completely ordinary black, apart from the spark that seemed a little too real. The only other thing of note was the set of robes he had, which were a near-white silver, edged in black.


    ¡°Fifteen years can feel like a whole lifetime, let alone a century, and unfortunately is a whole lifetime for some.¡±


    ¡°No, no no no. Don¡¯t you give me that compassionate shit, trying to make me feel bad for complaining. You either didn¡¯t care enough to remember the last time we talked or you forgot you wanted to meet when I returned. Either way, I have a right to be annoyed.¡±


    ¡°Your complaints are heard and are valid. I will take them into consideration in the future, and I will do my best to incorporate your feedback into my future actions.¡±


    ¡°Go fuck yourself.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget whose name is on your checks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s the treasurer.¡±


    ¡°What? Since when?¡±


    ¡°Probably the last few centuries, but I know that centuries can feel like just a few short decades, so I don¡¯t blame you for not noticing.¡±


    They both had smirks on their faces, and I couldn¡¯t tell if it was moreso due to annoyance or humor.


    ¡°Sorry to butt in, but who is this? Who are you?¡±


    ¡°This, kid, is your new boss.¡±


    ¡°Only if you choose to accept my offer, of course.¡±


    ¡°That depends on what the offer is.¡±


    ¡°I wish to offer you a position on a certain special team. This team is comprised of people with high potential for growth, and I believe that potential can be reached, if not exceeded, by having them work together.¡±


    ¡°And you think I would be a good fit for that team?¡±


    ¡°I believe you¡¯ve already been given an example of why you deserve a spot, but if you still have doubts, all you need to do is trust me, and all will be revealed with time.¡±


    ¡°Trust? I¡¯ve known you all of two minutes.¡±


    ¡°You followed a man you¡¯d known for a few days halfway across the world, away from everything you knew. All I¡¯m doing is offering you a reason for doing that. I feel the choice should be much easier, but again, it is still your choice.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say you don¡¯t have point, but¡­. What are the other details?¡±


    ¡°Oh, the usual arrangements. You¡¯ll have a private room in the central tower, with free access to all the facilities, along with unlimited meal allowance at all restaurants in this and any other city. You¡¯ll also be given a full set of custom-made equipment, made with whatever specifications you desire. You may also be given direct council from a number of Heroes, depending on scheduling.¡±


    ¡°In exchange for¡­?¡±


    ¡°As I said, you¡¯ll work for me or whoever I choose to supervise your team. You¡¯ll follow whatever instructions you¡¯re given to the best of your ability, most of which will be¡­ I suppose I¡¯ll just say special assignments for now. You¡¯re free to do what you wish in the time between assignments.¡±


    ¡°What kind of assignments?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t tell you. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to, believe me, however it¡¯s best that information is given solely on a need-to-know basis. Just know that they may be challenging, but you shouldn¡¯t be given anything you or your team cannot handle.¡±


    ¡°I still just don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re offering this to me. It feels too good to not be a trick, and I¡¯m sure there are countless other people more qualified than me.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, although none have exactly what you do; none are in your specific circumstances either.¡±


    I looked at Owl, but he was just looking at me intently, with no discernable thoughts. I looked back at the man, who I still didn¡¯t even know the name of, but he still had the same placid smile and soft eyes he had had through his whole pitch. I didn¡¯t trust him or his job offer, but assuming he was telling the truth, I had no reason not to. I hoped Owl would¡¯ve said something if the man was outright lying to me, but since he said nothing, I could only assume the man was telling the truth, at least for the most part. I could only speculate on what parts he was leaving out.


    ¡°Can I leave when I wish?¡±


    At that question, a strange, knowing smile spread across his face.


    ¡°Once you accept, the thought of leaving will never cross your mind. You will see this through to the end.¡±


    I had nothing to say to that, mainly because I had no idea what he was talking about.


    ¡°Fine then.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it. You¡¯ll start tomorrow. I¡¯ll have someone show you to your room tonight.¡±


    ¡°Hold on a minute.¡±


    Both me and Owl spoke up at the same time. I motioned for him to speak first.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that I question your judgement, well I do question it but regardless, he¡¯s hardly ready to jump right into whatever you have planned. His physical skills are rough at best, and he knows next to nothing about, well, most things. You need to give him some time to train before you do anything else with him.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly how I would¡¯ve put it, but that¡¯s about what I was going to say.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll postpone the first assignment one week. You have that week to use the library and training facilities to their fullest. That said, I expect you to hone your skills through real combat, rather than training in a room with someone with no intent to kill you.¡±


    ¡°Still, this is-¡°


    ¡°You¡¯ve already said yes. Any further considerations I allow you are already beyond what you agreed to and can be considered my generosity. Now, I need to go tell approximately two dozen people their plans for the next week have changed. It¡¯s been nice seeing you Owl, and I look forward to the next time we can meet. Young man, I will give you your name in due time. Good day to you both.¡±


    With that, he stood up and made for the exit. As he left the immediate vicinity of the table, the veil returned, making it seem as though he had simply disappeared.¡±


    I was greatly confused by the whole situation, while Owl was kneading his eyebrows in frustration.


    ¡°That guy¡¯s such an ass.¡±


    ¡°Seems like it. What now?¡±


    ¡°He probably had someone waiting outside to come grab you as soon as you said yes, so just wait here for a bit.¡±


    ¡°Who was he, by the way?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I forgot you¡¯ve never met him. That¡¯s the guy running the Church at the moment; the person most people know as the Pope.¡±


    ¡°¡­. He¡¯s what now?¡±

 36 - Onboarding

    ¡°Most people nowadays are just as confused as you are when they meet him in person, but yes, that guy is the Pope, and he¡¯s been like that the entire time I¡¯ve known him. Frankly, it still confuses me how people ever saw him as trustworthy enough to give his Church the power it has.¡±


    I sat there in stunned silence. The most powerful man in the city, both in position and, most likely, in physical power, had been sitting in a chair barely an arm¡¯s length away from me, and he had even offered me a job. I was in a state of shock, enough to make me not even realize how suspicious the situation was. In time, I would realize that was likely his goal in springing it on me in that way.


    Once I started getting over the knowledge of who I had just been talking to, there was something I couldn¡¯t get out of my head. The thought of leaving would never cross my mind? There was such an assuredness in his tone, it made me feel that it went beyond simply confidence in my character or the quality of the job. The line also stood out because, unlike the rest of the conversation that had a sort of whimsical nature, it was just those few words in the middle of it all that were said with complete seriousness. I didn¡¯t know whether to be afraid of my lack of understanding of his intentions or not. I didn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°What now?¡±


    ¡°Now, I¡¯m afraid we must go our separate ways. There should be someone arriving in the next minute or two to escort you wherever the old man wants you to go, and I have my own responsibilities to attend to. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be seeing each other much, but who knows. Our strings may only have this one knot, or they may be braided. Only time will tell.¡±


    With that, he gave the table a hearty smack and pushed himself backwards, wheeling himself between Bear and I before I could even react.


    ¡°It¡¯s been nice to have the chance to spend time together like this again, brief as it may have been. Take care of yourself, ok?¡±


    ¡°Always.¡±


    Bear passed the crutches over; Owl placed them by this side. He then offered his hand, and they grabbed each other by the forearms.


    ¡°Be sure to let me know wherever they decide to stick you next.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Alright then. See you¡­ whenever time allows, I suppose.¡±


    He gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, and, after a final shared look and nod, Bear stood and made for the exit. Owl then turned to me.


    ¡°Good luck. Remember to keep your eyes, ears, and mind open, in that order, and never let your lack of experience cause a lack of confidence. You are much stronger than you know.¡±


    We exchanged a firm handshake and he turned to leave. As he did so, his crutches, which were sticking out behind the back of the wheelchair, hit me directly on the knee.


    ¡°Ow?¡±


    ¡°Oops.¡±


    He headed for the door while I rubbed my new injury. Seeing that he showed no signs of stopping, I called out.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to pay?¡±


    ¡°This is a Hero-only bar. The owner doesn¡¯t charge and no one has the balls to tell him no or shut him down.¡±


    With that, he was gone. Looking at the rest of the room, there were three other people, all of whom were, luckily for me, minding their own business. I quickly stood up, grabbed the cups on the table, walked them over to the bar, and limped towards the door.


    Outside, the crowd had died down significantly from earlier, but was still busy. Owl was nowhere to be seen, although I wasn¡¯t exactly surprised. I didn¡¯t see anyone who seemed to be looking for me immediately, but I had been instructed to wait, so I did. Not a minute later, the crowded street made a perfectly sized gap for a man in a white robe to walk through, the same gold-edged white robe the man at the funeral was wearing. He was a bit shorter than me and had a head of receding gray hair. We made eye contact, and he looked me over for a second.


    ¡°Come with me.¡±


    He immediately turned around, scarcely giving me the time to react. I followed him closely, watching in amazement as the river of people seemed to naturally part around him. After a short walk, we made it back to the large square the funeral was held at. The stage had been deconstructed and completely removed in the time I had spent with Owl. On the side of the square where the stage had been was a large staircase leading to a massive open gate; the crowd that had gathered earlier was such a sight for me that I hadn¡¯t even registered being at the front entrance of the city¡¯s largest structure. Another thing I was only noticing now was that, rather than the whole palace being made of golden crystal, only the top roughly half was, which was the only part visible over the city wall from the outside.


    In the time I was marveling at the palace, my guide had made it nearly to the top of the stairs. I quickly caught up, following him through the gate. Inside was a grand hall with an arched ceiling, from which hung a large chandelier adorned with candles that burned with a golden flame. Every inch of the hall seemed to be carved with intricate patterns, all of which resembled snakes of various sizes, depending on which part the viewer focused on and from what angle.


    I was led to a relatively small archway, inside of which was a large cavity with a rope of seemingly infinite length moving perpetually upward. Every two people of length, there was another rope tied in a loop.


    ¡°Place your foot in one of those and it¡¯ll take you up. You¡¯re to get off at the third doorway you see. Hold on tight, don¡¯t go all the way to the top, and don¡¯t let go. There will be someone there to tell you next steps.¡±


    Before I could ask questions, he walked away, leaving me to stare dumbly at the contraption. After a period of mustering up my courage and seeing no one else coming to give me an example, I reached out and placed my hand around the rope. I let it run through my hand, feeling out the timing of the footholds. Eventually, I grabbed the rope firmly, and moved my foot to one of the loops, which I missed. After a brief, mostly controlled descent, I managed to stick my foot into the next loop and tightened my grip on the rope enough for my knuckles and fingertips to turn white.


    At the third doorway, I almost jumped off the rope, staggering a few steps forward when I landed. There was already someone standing there, waiting for me with an uncomfortably large smile.


    ¡°Hi! Welcome to the Church! We¡¯re very excited you¡¯re joining us, and I know you¡¯ll enjoy your life here as much as I do. Today, I¡¯ll be walking you through the basics of being here, what facilities are offered to you, we¡¯ll do a quick exam, and then I¡¯ll show you where you¡¯ll be staying. How does that sound?¡±


    ¡°To be completely honest with you, I didn¡¯t hear a word of what you said. I¡¯m still a bit shaken up from that death trap.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure it out in no time. C¡¯mon, lets get going. Never too soon to start getting used to a new environment.¡±


    Before I had even had a chance to catch my breath, the two of us were walking down the hallway. The walls were made of simple stone bricks, with the trim carved in the same manner as the walls in the main hall. There were doorways placed sparsely and unorderly. The floor and ceiling were polished smooth enough to be a mirror, yet they only reflected the four sides of the hallway, not either of us walking through it. The whole hallway, for as far as I could see, was well and evenly lit in spite of the lack of light sources, and as we walked, no sound was produced by our footsteps, nor did our voices echo.


    ¡°So, this hallway is sort of the utility area of this floor. These rooms are mostly meeting rooms and storerooms; nothing too interesting, but there might be some useful stuff in one of the storerooms, which you¡¯re free to take ¨C within reason of course.¡±


    I stopped to look into one of the storerooms. The door to the room was wooden but lacked the weight I expected. Inside, there were shelves upon shelves of stuff, none of which I had time to identify as my guide had never stopped walking, and I had to once again scramble to catch up.


    ¡°Up ahead on the left is the hallway that leads to the west side of the floor, and a bit further up is the door to the gathering room. It¡¯s sort of like the central hub of the whole floor, where I¡¯m sure all of you will meet to discuss all the exciting mission details.¡±


    We kept walking forward until the hallway curved to the right, leading to more hallway. This one was much shorter, ending in a door and a left turn to another hallway, which also quickly turned left. This section of hall wrapped around a small section of the building which held another rope deathtrap, although this one had two going in both directions, with a wall separating them.


    ¡°To your right is the door to the training room, which we¡¯ll circle back to at the end of the tour, and to your left are the central ropes of the building. They can take you to almost any floor you wish, except for the main hall or anything below and the very top floors. For those, you¡¯ll have to take one of the other ropes or the stairs, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll have any reason to go that far up or down. The important destination for you though, is the library, which you¡¯ll find on the floor just above this one.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s in the training room?¡±


    ¡°Oh, the usual stuff; spare weapons, weights, practice dummies, automated training partners, strength measuring equipment. Pretty boring, but I can¡¯t deny its usefulness. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure all that out on your own. Next up is the north hallway, which gives you a good view out over the city.¡±


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    I was confused for a moment until we turned into the hallway and I realized the entire north wall was completely transparent. I didn¡¯t even think there was a wall until I reached out to touch it and nearly sprained my finger. As it turns out, depth perception doesn¡¯t work when there¡¯s nothing to perceive. As we continued through this hallway, and while I tried to rub the pain out of my finger, it struck me that the reason the floor and ceiling were made so reflective was to spread the light from this window throughout the whole floor. I was sure there was some magical element to it as well, but I couldn¡¯t say where the design stopped and the magic began.


    ¡°And lastly on this tour, we come to the living quarters.¡±


    We took one more left turn into what I hoped was truly the last hallway in this tour. The wall to the left was completely sparse apart from a single door, which I guessed was another entrance to the central gathering room due to the layout of the floor I was creating in my mind. The wall to the right had a series of doors placed at regular intervals. There were six in total, although the last door was on the far wall of the hallway, not in line with the others.


    ¡°Let me guess, I get the odd room out?¡±


    ¡°What? No. Yours is the third one down from this end. The guy in room six said he didn¡¯t want to be in the middle of everyone. Well, he didn¡¯t really say that, but that was the feeling I got from him, y¡¯know? He didn¡¯t actually say much of anything. Kinda scary.¡±


    ¡°Oh, alright then. Do you have a key for me then or what?¡±


    ¡°So, the doors don¡¯t actually lock, but no one will come in unless you want them too.¡±


    ¡°Seems very safe and not at all prone to burglaries.¡±


    ¡°You have nothing to worry about. No one who would wish to rob anyone here would make it far enough to actually do it. Anyway, I¡¯ll trust that you can find your way here on your own, so I¡¯ll take you back over the training room and hand you over.¡±


    We walked back to the training room, completing a full loop of the hall. Once we reached the door, my guide said goodbye and walked to the moving ropes, grabbing it with a practiced ease. I shuddered at the thought of having to use that thing again while I turned and opened the door. Inside was a room big enough to fit multiple houses, made of a white stone, different than the rest of this building and different than the buildings in the rest of the city. Braziers burning with a brilliant white flame hung in the four corners of the ceiling, with mirrors placed behind them to reflect their light into the room, making it near-blinding until my eyes adjusted.


    In the room were, as described by the guide, a number of things that looked useful for honing combat skills. There were vaguely humanoid shaped wood structures at various places around the room, with a large variety of other things I didn¡¯t know the purpose of. Along the far side of the room were about half a dozen metal balls of different sizes.


    ¡°Hey! Yous¡¯re new arrival, right?¡±


    Someone called out to me from one of my sides. I turned to see someone standing up from a desk. Around the corner of the room the desk was in were a number of strange apparatuses. The person now walking towards me was a short, stocky man with bronze skin and only a sparse amount of hair on his face and seemingly none on the rest of his body. He also spoke with a strange, hard to understand dialect I had never heard before.


    ¡°Welcome ya on in here, don¡¯t be shy. I¡¯m sure yer gonna get used to seein this room in no time. My job here is to get records on ya so we can track yer progress and get ya outfitted.¡±


    I walked over to him hesitantly. When I reached him, he walked around me, inspecting every part of me. When he completed his loop, he pulled out a rope with knots placed regularly along its length and used it to measure the dimensions of nearly every part of my body. Before I could react, he was done and back at his desk, scribbling down his measurements.


    ¡°Right, now then. Over here. Strength test first, then reflexes, then how well ya can actually kill shit.¡±


    He walked over to the corner of the room. An area of the wall was cut out in a square, leading into a rather long tunnel. From the middle of the far wall of the tunnel extended a long pole with a pad on the end. Thin poles with small hooks on the end were placed in the wall on either side of the tunnel at regular intervals, which hooked into small hoops placed at the same intervals along the central pole. They were what kept it upright throughout the length of the tunnel.


    ¡°Just go on ahead and give that there pad a good whack; how far it moves will tell me how strong ya are. You can hit it as hard as ya¡¯d like, but for the sake of the sanity of both me and the pencil pushers that pay me, do not try to make yerself look good. I¡¯ve seen enough needle-nosed, sniveling, know-it-all fuckwits come through, trying to use their fancy-pants magic to help them, and still have the nerve to be offended by getting my boot to their neck. Just hit it. Nothin¡¯ fancy ¡®bout it. What¡¯s so goddamn hard to understand about that?¡±


    ¡°If the test is to measure our strength, why wouldn¡¯t we use everything at our disposal to, well, hit it as hard as we can?¡±


    ¡°Because this is a physical strength test, with a very heavy emphasis on physical. If I wanted to test yer magic, I¡¯d say that. If I wanted to test both in combination, I¡¯d throw something at ya that was tryin¡¯ to kill ya, which comes later. If I wanted to test how well ya can manipulate my words into a meaning that suits ya, I¡¯d have ya run for election.¡±


    ¡°Understood. Just hit it, no magic included, not that I could if I wanted to.¡±


    ¡°Good. Makes shit too complicated when ya start throwing weird invisible shit in the mix.¡±


    ¡°And I won¡¯t break it? Parts of it look a bit fragile.¡±


    ¡°Yu¡¯ll break yer hand before you breaks it, trust me. Now stop dawdlin¡¯ and hit the damn thing. I got shit to do today.¡±


    I walked up to the pad, shifting my position a few times before I found one that felt the most comfortable. It had been a while since I had thrown a regular punch from a stable position, so while the knowledge of how to do it was still there, it took a bit to knock the dust off the metaphorical book. While I prepared, I could see the tester getting increasingly impatient, visibly biting his tongue to not disturb me and make it last any longer. When I took a practice swing, I saw him get a bit excited, only to be disappointed when he saw I didn¡¯t put any power behind it.


    With my preparation completed and my mind in a state to smack something, I set my feet and took a few breaths. With one more deep breath, I twisted my body and punched the pad, sending it about halfway down the tunnel, where it then sprung back to its original position. I was a bit disappointed to see the result, as I had been trying to get at least close to the maximum. When I looked back to the tester, he was just looking at me with an amused smile.


    ¡°Do you allow do-overs? I feel like I can push it out a bit farther.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯have no idea what ya just did, do ya kid?¡±


    ¡°What? Middle of pole means average strength, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad guess, but ya forgot that this is meant to measure the strength of everyone, not just newbies like yerself. To account for that, I made the resistance increase exponentially along the length of the spring; basically, it gets harder the farther down the shaft ya get. It was a pain in the ass to figure out the forces of the springs for each segment, but that don¡¯t matter right now. What matters is that about a quarter of the total length is average for what yer level is supposed to be, accordin¡¯ to the information I got here. What ya just did, on the other hand, puts ya in the top quarter of everyone.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by everyone?¡±


    ¡°Ya got a worm in yer brain or somethin¡¯? Everyone is everyone, from the old guy with a different person to wipe his ass for each day of the week at the top of this pile of rocks to the old guys outside who shit themselves like real men, and still make it everyone else¡¯s problem.¡±


    ¡°You lost me on the metaphor, but I get your point.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it, but it¡¯s not my job to tell ya yer place in the world. Step over to the thing next to ya now.¡±


    To my side was another strange contraption. There were two vertical poles with four posts, about the width of my arm, sticking out of each one, making it look like a claw waiting to grab me. The first two posts were at about eye level, the second were about should height, the third were at the bottom of my ribcage, and the last two were at the level of my waist.


    ¡°Stand in the middle of it. This one¡¯ll test yer agility or somethin¡¯. You¡¯ll figure it out. Do you best.¡±


    I did as he instructed, standing about arm¡¯s length away from the center of the two poles. As I was about to ask what the test was, one of the posts swung at me. It wasn¡¯t very fast, and I blocked it instinctually, but as I did so, another post swung at me from the other side. At that point, the function of this was clear. I continued to block the posts as they came at me more frequently, faster, and more erratically. It didn¡¯t take long for it to become difficult, and within a few minutes, I was hit in the side and the test stopped.


    ¡°Not bad. Now ya did about average, if ya wanted to know. Two minutes, twenty-three seconds is yer time to beat.¡±


    ¡°What now?¡±


    ¡°Now, it¡¯s fightin¡¯ time. Go to the big empty area on the far side of the room. Unfortunately, live beasts tend to not know how to stop before they kill someone, so we use the kid¡¯s bots now.¡±


    ¡°The who¡¯s whats?¡±


    ¡°Eh, seeing it¡¯s better than me explaining it. There¡¯s a rack with some weapons over there too. Grab one while I set this up.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I already have a sword.¡±


    ¡°Anything over there¡¯ll be better than anything the forges in the outer cities make, even the spares.¡±


    ¡°Mine wasn¡¯t made in one of those. I think.¡±


    ¡°Suit yerself, but don¡¯t come crying to me if ya breaks it. Not only do I not care, I also haven¡¯t made a sword since before you were a thought in your parents¡¯ mind.¡±


    I walked to the empty space he mentioned. Against the far wall were the strange balls I saw when I first entered the room. Even being closer, there was nothing else I could see about them, there was only the sense that there was something more to them. What exactly, I wasn¡¯t sure. Other than those, there was nothing else there. I looked back and saw the man fiddling with something on his desk. A few seconds later, the floor split, forming a border around the empty area I was standing in. From the gap, walls that reached about waist high emerged.


    ¡°Ready yerself.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡±


    I didn¡¯t receive an answer. The next moment, I heard the sound of metal scraping behind me. I turned to see that the second smallest of the balls had rolled forward and unfolded, for lack of a better term. There were now gaps that streaked around the formerly seamless ball. The next moment, what looked like four metal snakes shot out of the gaps in the ball, two on each side. It then stood up, and I recognized it as a metal mimicry of a beast. I readied myself and drew my sword, now understanding the purpose of this test. Holding my sword to my side in a defensive posture, I began taking steps forward, waiting for it to start moving.


    Suddenly, without warning, it pounced towards me like a lightning bolt. I instinctively sidestepped and slashed towards it but hit nothing but air. I turned, expecting it to come at me again, but it was instead crumpled against the wall. After a few confused seconds, I looked up, intending to question the test administrator, but he was just looking at me with a strange smile and a twitching eyebrow.


    Ignoring him for the moment, I walked over to the unmoving mass of metal. I hesitantly tapped it with my foot, only for the top half of it to simply slide off, exposing a mass of wires and tubes on the inside, most of which had a clean cut through them. With this preponderance of evidence, I realized I was an idiot. I had indeed gotten a good hit in with my sword, but since I hadn¡¯t had the chance to ever really use it, I had completely forgotten how sharp it was.


    ¡°Who exactly did ya say made that blade?¡±


    ¡°No idea. I just found it.¡±


    ¡°Ya found it. Of course ya just found it.¡±


    ¡°Sorry about the, um, what do you call these things?¡±


    ¡°Combat training robot. No need for a fancy name. Don¡¯t worry about it though, it¡¯ll fix itself eventually.¡±


    ¡°Oh, alright then. Do you want me to fight another one now, or what?¡±


    ¡°No, no. I have what I need. Ya can return to yer room for the day. They also wanted me to tell ya this room and the library are completely open for ya to use.¡±


    After that, I left and returned to the room that had been assigned to me. It was a simple accommodation, but far nicer than many of the places I had stayed in. There were some shelves, a dresser, and a desk with a small lamp. There were windows along the top half of the back wall, which let in a good amount of light. The dresser held a few sets of clothes. On the desk was a badge-looking thing with the symbol of the Church on it. Next to it was a note explaining I could use it to buy whatever I needed from the shops in the city.


    I set my sword on the desk, put on a clean set of clothes, and laid down on the bed. The fact that this was going to be my life for the foreseeable future finally sunk in, but I wasn¡¯t too concerned about it. I started planning what to do over the next week. I decided to start with the library and try to fill the gaps in my knowledge Owl had pointed out.

 37 - Playing Catchup

    In the free week I had to prepare myself, I spent most of my time in the library trying to fill the gaps in my knowledge Owl had pointed out. Additionally, predicting that I¡¯d be working with other people, I felt I should do what I could to avoid making a fool of myself.


    The library itself was located on the first floor above ground level and occupied the entire floor, filled with seemingly endless rows of shelves, organized by a myriad of sections and subsections. It was unexpectedly open to the public, with a stairwell on one side of it leading to the main hall. Even with this though, it was rare for me to see anyone else in the library, and even when someone showed up, they would only come for one or two things before leaving. It was always quiet, but I never felt lonely.


    I had come into the library with a plan of what I wanted to do. The first thing I wanted to learn more about was fighting, primarily to try to find a way I could improve myself, even minimally. I quickly found that the only thing I could do was train physically and practice focusing on the magic within my body to get it to do what I wanted. It was helpful information, but I had hoped to find something more readily applicable, leaving me with significantly more time than I originally anticipated. I used the time to find books on different sword techniques, taking notes on the ones that were the most broadly applicable.


    After the daily trip to the library, I would spend a few hours in the training room trying to apply what I had learned. I found very quickly that my sword would simply slice through every possible target available, causing me to downgrade to one of the surplus swords in the room. I got the feeling my sword wasn¡¯t very happy with me using a different weapon, and I became gradually less sure throughout the week that the feeling was just in my head.


    The second thing I had wanted to learn about in the library was magic. I remembered the basics of internal and external magic, but the image of Erin conjuring a town-sized pillar of golden fire left me with an itching curiosity. Thinking back to the events of that day, I remembered there were also a couple people in the fodder group who seemed to be prepared to use magic, although their movements and posture were different from both each other and Erin. This, as it turned out, was due to the fact that everyone was more than likely using different types of magic.


    There exist many different types of magic, and what determines which one a person has is mostly genetic, meaning that a family will likely share a particular brand of magic amongst members. This also means that no other family will have that type of magic. For instance, there was a single family assigned the duty of keeping the various greenery installations tidy across all the cities. This family had magic which allowed them to control plant growth. Having a few of these people in each city also proved to be beneficial in the event of a beast wave as they could easily slow the beasts down by causing the grass to tangle around their legs. Of the theoretically infinite types of magic, all are like this in some way, in that they have a wide variety of uses, meaning that their strength is only limited by the creativity and ingenuity of the user.


    There is, of course, a rather obvious downside to magic, being that only people born with the ability to use a particular type of magic can use it, and cannot learn other types, barring two exceptions. Both the Church of the Serpent and the Cult of the Night had their own, specific types of magic. Unfortunately, there were no resources in the library on what the Cult¡¯s magic was, only a few warnings to avoid conflict with members where possible and to end any fights quickly if they were to occur. The Church¡¯s magic, the gold-white flames, on the other hand, had rows of shelves filled with textbooks detailing how to use one¡¯s own magic to produce the various effects the Church¡¯s magic was known for. Being unable to use magic externally at all, all of this information was useless to me. The interesting, and admittedly unsettling, component of these flames was that the only thing that differentiated a burning flame and a healing flame was the intent of the user. As a final side note on this, the stakes Erin had used shortly before incinerating the town, besides being modeled after the symbol of the Church, were catalysts for magic, resonating with each other to amplify the effects of the magic being channeled through them. They did need to be placed in specific patterns to work properly, causing them to only be used for increasing the area of effect of a spell or, when placed around a small area, greatly amplifying the effect of a spell.


    This did leave me with the unanswered question of what the base level of required strength was to pull off something like what Erin had done, which led me to the third and what would become the final subject of this time in the library. I didn¡¯t have much of a reference for the level of my own strength, but I still didn¡¯t feel that I was at all comparable to either Erin or Owl. I quickly found though, that there wasn¡¯t a concrete ranking system; people, hunters, simply grew stronger until they died or became worthy of being called a hero. Rather, there were a couple milestones for people to reach that marked their progress towards that lofty goal. The first of these milestones was becoming a team leader in an officially sanctioned hunter group, or in other words, a Cleaner group; the second was being yourself pivotal in the defense of a town against a wave; the third was being able to defend city alone against an entire wave or equivalent threat. This feat alone could propel someone into the legendary realm of a Hero, and if it didn¡¯t, being able to do it consistently would bridge that final gap.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Erin being able to affect an entire town at once would, in theory, put her around the second milestone, but her having done so with help implies a lower ranking. This was fundamentally why it was much more of a soft ranking system than anything; there were too many variables and potentialities that went into strength for a single scale to be truly useful. Even the rank of Hero wasn¡¯t a true rank, as there was a vast gap between the older generation Heroes and the newer generations. Experience played the largest part in this strength gap, but there were also simple generational strength differences that came and went in waves. There were a few things I read implying a gradual decline in strength over time, both amongst Heroes and the regular folk, but this very well could have been due to the presence of strong individuals growing over time making threats look lesser.


    Throughout everything I had read, there was sporadic but consistent talk about the strongest Hero, something that wasn¡¯t quite agreed upon. There were a number of Heroes who could wipe out an entire wave in what amounted to a snap of their fingers, but that was ultimately what constituted the baseline of the top level of Heroes. At that point, only particularly impressive feats would display the true abilities of these Heroes, which only amounted to anecdotal evidence. The only way there was to actually know how strong Heroes were in relation to each other was when they had arguments between themselves and decided to fight about it, something that rarely happened and usually resulted in a large amount of damage to the surrounding areas. Once again, this wasn¡¯t a good method of ranking the Heroes, except for saying a specific person was stronger than specifically one other person.


    With that said, there was one Hero no one had fought with in centuries. Before that, he had finished every fight quickly and efficiently, with little damage to the surrounding areas and to his opponent. This was the first official Hero of the third generation, the oldest Hero still alive, and one of the few Heroes with a completely flawless combat record; the Hero known simply as Owl. A few things clicked into place with that revelation.


    While I sat on that information, I looked into the beast side of the strength equation. I had seen exactly four types of beasts. There were the two basic beasts, being essentially a big and small version of the same thing, and it was those two what comprised the bulk of beast waves. The Anglers were a bit above them, being very evasive but otherwise physically weak. They also apparently had the ability to slightly warp people¡¯s minds to make people less likely to notice them. The Lure was far more formidable than them, which caught me by surprise until I remembered it had single-handedly wiped out five presumably competent hunters at once. The thing that made it so dangerous to weaker hunters was its ability to hypnotize them, forcing them to look at it while it used a type of psionic magic to turn the hunters¡¯ brains to mush. Prolonged eye contact would also sear the image of the thing into people¡¯s retinas. This was a sign of a particularly unfortunate death as it meant the Lure had plenty of time to torture its victim.


    Beyond what I had seen, there were dozens of other types of beasts that had been spotted over the years, all of vastly varying strength, with some appearing only in waves, and others simply appearing on their own and causing mass panic in the area. Owl¡¯s comments about beasts preferring to act alone was true as well, with only a select few types of stronger beasts preferring to get weaker minions to do the hard work for them. Waves were always led by a beast, with larger waves naturally being led by stronger beasts, and the larger the wave was, the stronger the beasts would be that comprised it. I realized that this was why Owl seemed particularly worried when he realized there were two Anglers. At the time, he couldn¡¯t have been sure how many more there were, nor how many other types of beasts there were. It also explains why he was very unconcerned once I returned to the town, having had time to determine that the two Anglers and the Lure were all that were present.


    At this point, most of the main questions I had had been answered, and though I could¡¯ve spent months in the library, my free week was almost up. I wasn¡¯t particularly concerned about what I hadn¡¯t been able to learn about, as I¡¯d have plenty more opportunities to fill the gaps in my knowledge. Instead, I was discontented at my lack of progress physically. Beyond getting the hang of basic sword stuff, I hadn¡¯t made any noticeable improvements, and while a week was too short a time to expect to see any meaningful improvements, the lack of progress towards even a small improvement left me frustrated.


    In any case, the only thing I could do was keep moving forward. I returned to my room.

 38 - Strange Names

    On Flames and Fire ¨C Forward.


    Written sometime in the Fifth Generation.


    ¡°Recently, I have been researching fire. For as common as it is in our day-to-day, I couldn¡¯t find any good resources that had any good detail on it. It seems as though the everyday fire, the orange stuff, is treated as a fact of life; it¡¯s just there and no one seems to want to question it. The white fire the Church uses has received a similar treatment, but the fact that we do make the distinction between the two is what made me curious. Were they to be the same thing, we could surely call them the same thing, no?


    This led me rather naturally to the starting point of my research: colors. Most people who utilize fire use one of the two aforementioned types, but there are exceptions. For instance, I¡¯ve seen people create red, yellow, green, blue, and purple flames, each with different effects. Some colors are more destructive while others are more nurturing. In fact, I ordered that list of colors in order of decreasing destructivity. On either end of the spectrum are white fire and the ever-elusive black flames. Unfortunately, I could not confirm the existence of black flames as anything more than a legend. In all my time of doing research, something I¡¯ve dedicated now the best part of a decade towards, I could not find, not only a user, but not even anyone who could say anything concretely about them. If the legends are to be believed, however, and black flames only appear in advance of great change, perhaps it isn¡¯t a bad thing I couldn¡¯t find anything on them.


    In the course of researching the color question, I noticed certain distinction which you yourself may have noticed reading this. While the common person uses flames and fire more-or-less interchangeably, the reliable sources on the subject make a very clear distinction between fire and flames. This observation would send me down another rabbit hole of research that would conclude with me visiting opposite ends of the world in search of answers.


    As foreboding as I made that sound, it was truly in more of a literal sense. In a conversation about my work, someone mentioned in passing the term ¡°the Fire Villages¡±, and naturally, I had to look into it. This term refers to two villages, one far to the east the other far to the west, which have long, long histories in using their chosen fire magic. To the east, built into the peaks of the tallest mountains, are a tribe of people who use exclusively white fire. Despite the cold of the mountain peaks, their fire keeps them warm; despite the lack of air, their fire lets them breathe normally (using an incredibly fascinating system of varying areas of air pressure to funnel air into specific areas, the specifics of which have their own dedicated chapter). Far to the west, on the other hand, is a tribe that uses the whole array of colored flames, with a strangely even mix of each among the members. They live at the foot of a mountain range, surrounded by dense forest. So dense in fact, that I had to contact them ahead of time so a guide could meet me outside the forest and guide me in.


    In these villages, I had fascinating conversations about the nature of flames and fire, and the purposes of them. The emotions related to their answers varied greatly, as did the depth of knowledge, but one thing remained a constant across every single person I talked to in either tribe, and that what specifically separated flames and fire. This difference was frequently described by the phrase: fire is a cause; flames are an effect. Such a simple distinction yet fascinating all the same.


    The west fire village also made me a mushroom soup that remains in the top three meals of my life.¡±


    ***


    After a week of preparation and anticipation, it was finally the first day of whatever this job was going to be. It was at this point I realized I didn¡¯t know what I was supposed to do or where I was supposed to go. I figured staying in my room waiting for someone to fetch me wasn¡¯t the best option, so I gathered all two of what I considered to be necessary items, my sword and what I had resorted to calling my badge, and slowly opened the door into the hallway. I poked my head out first, not quite knowing whether I wanted to see someone or not, but it was just as lifeless as it always was. Working up a bit of courage, I stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind me.


    I followed the same path I took every day, feeling as nervous as I did the first day. As I passed the fourth and fifth doors, I noticed that, unlike every other time, there was light underneath them. Walking past, I hesitated, debating whether to knock, but as I stood there, I picked up on the faint sound of voices floating through the air of the hallway, something that, despite the unfurnished stone hallways, I had never heard. A bit further up the hall, I noticed the door to the central room was propped open. My curiosity wouldn¡¯t let me leave it unexplored, but it also just felt like where I was supposed to go.


    Walking inside the room, I couldn¡¯t tell if I was early or late. There were only four people in the room sitting at two of the dozen or so tables. Well, there were three people and a robot, but I prefer to judge by the content of character rather than outwards appearance. The robot was sitting next to a younger looking man with simply-cut, brown hair and round-brimmed glasses. The two of them were quietly discussing and tinkering with a metal something on the table in front of them, completely uncaring of the rest of the room. At another table were a man and a woman, sitting on opposite sides and opposite ends of a table. The woman had pristine, pale-gold hair and was wearing a white robe, but her most striking feature was the piece of fabric tied around her head, covering her eyes. The man had his back to the door but glanced over his shoulder when I entered. He looked to be on the cusp of middle aged, with a face that seemed to have a five o¡¯clock shadow burned into it and a receding hairline. He looked tired, both in the physical sense and in the sense that he wanted to be anywhere but here. There was something about him I immediately didn¡¯t like, but I simply ignored it, taking a seat at an empty table somewhat near the door.


    As I sat down, I noticed a fifth person in the room. In the corner of the room hidden by the open door was another young man. He had curly, black hair that spilled over most of his face, and he seemed to be sleeping. After a few seconds and at least one double take, I recognized him as the kid who had been trailing behind the group that was killed off-screen by the Lure. He was very clearly faring much better now than he was then. I hadn¡¯t thought about him since he disappeared just before the funeral, but it was good to see him no longer being mistreated.


    Sitting there was a strange experience. Feeling out of place was an understatement. Everyone appeared relaxed, as though whatever this was was a normal thing for them, something they had done a hundred times before. Meanwhile, I sat there, not knowing whether I was even in the right place, with only my anxiety to keep me company. Despite this, however, despite the doubt and anxiety, I recognized that these people were now my world; my overshadowed logic knew that this was where I was meant to be in this moment, and that this was now my future, come what may.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Other than the old-ish man, no one else took obvious notice of my entrance. The younger man and the robot had never stopped talking quietly, although as I eavesdropped on their conversation, it became clear this was due moreso to the two of them being naturally quiet, rather than being quiet out of respect for the others. The other man, who had turned his back to me again, and the woman exchanged a few words here and there. From what I could hear, they seemed to be acquaintances who only knew each other in passing. Watching these two specifically, I felt the knot in my stomach begin to loosen. Their conversation was stilted, almost uncomfortably so, and neither of them made a single move to engage with the other two, leading me to assume they were strangers to each other, just as they all were to me.


    A few minutes went by with just the six of us in the room, an uncertain tension hanging in the air. Just as I had started settling in, a white figure passed through my peripheral vision completely silently, making me jolt. At a measured pace, a middle-aged man carrying a briefcase was making his way towards the center of the room. There was nothing about him that particularly stood out apart from the gold-edged white robes he was wearing. He stopped at a spot in the center of the room where he could address everyone and unceremoniously threw his briefcase down on the nearest table. He then opened it, revealing a stack of papers and folders, before taking the one off the top and throwing it at me like a frisbee.


    As previously established, my reaction time wasn¡¯t great, so all I could manage during its flight was to raise my hand to stop it from poking an eye out. Unfortunately, this blocked most of my vision, so I was completely unprepared when it hit me in the throat. It luckily fell into my lap after its failed decapitation attempt, preventing it from sliding across and off the other side of the table. I rubbed my throat, trying to stifle a coughing fit, while I looked up to see the man thumbing through the stack of papers and laying them out on his table, completely uncaring of my near-death experience.


    The edge of the folder was crimped shut, hence why it didn¡¯t open during its expedient migration to my neck. It didn¡¯t take much to open, wherein was a small collection of papers, but more notable was a small card with the insignia of the Church, printed with gold ink, on one half, with a few words printed on the other half. The other side of the card was blank. Turning it back over, I read what was printed on it. Half of it was written in small print I didn¡¯t notice immediately.


    SLATE


    TEAM 0


    THIS CARD, WHEN POSSESSED BY ITS PROPER OWNER, FUNCTIONS AS UNLIMITED LEGAL TENDER


    POSSESSION OF THIS CARD BY ANOTHER INDIVIDUAL MAY RESULT IN SEVERE PENALTY


    As I finished reading the card, a single clap rang out through the room. Everyone was now looking at the man in the white robe, who was in turn inspecting all of us. I also noticed that everyone else now had a folder in front of them.


    ¡°Thank you all for being here on time. It would have been incredibly annoying for me to have to track you down and drag you here. From this day forward, the six of you are now an official hunting team of the Church, operating under the direct authority of the Pope and, thankfully temporarily, me. It is my understanding that you all are largely strangers to each other, so I will have you all introduce yourselves now. For our freshest team member, your name is on the top of the identification card in your folder, and it has been specially chosen for you by the Pope himself. If you, or anyone else for that matter, lose that card, so help me, I will personally replace all of your toilet paper with sandpaper; do it twice and I sew needles into your clothes. Anyway, introductions. We¡¯ll start with the only female member and move around the room.¡±


    ¡°My name is Clare.¡±


    ¡°Lemon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Syzygy, my brother here is Simon.¡±


    The robot¡¯s voice, tonally, was clearly unnatural, but was otherwise perfectly normal. After those two, all eyes turned to the kid, who seemed to have slept through this whole thing. He sat there unmoving.


    ¡°Oh, right. I was told one of you was watching the northwest quadrant last night. I suppose that¡¯s him. His name is, um let¡¯s see, Noah. Goddammit, why do some people get normal names while other people get stuck shit like Lemon.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, fuck you too man. It¡¯s not like I got to pick, and the big man upstairs sure as hell won¡¯t change it.¡±


    ¡°You know, I think I might see why he chose that name.¡±


    ¡°Sure you do. Believe me, everything you¡¯re thinking, I¡¯ve heard a thousand times before. Don¡¯t even bother saying it. I¡¯m just hoping the new kid got something at least abnormal.¡±


    ¡°Well?¡±


    All eyes in the room turned to me, instantly pulling me out of my passive enjoyment of the moment. I double checked the card.


    ¡°It¡¯s Slate.¡±


    ¡°Eh, could be better. I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    ¡°Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, time to tell you what you¡¯ll be doing. As a team under direct oversight of the Pope, you¡¯ll be directly assigned missions. While you¡¯ll get to avoid the usual squabble of teams fighting for the best jobs, you will be unable to refuse involvement in any of your assigned missions. Due to your high level of operation within the Church, only orders directly from the Pope may be given priority over your work. You are fully authorized to ignore all other orders from anyone of any rank if the directive does not directly come from the Pope, and if that is to happen, you are allowed discretion in choosing priority of your directives.


    ¡°I am assigning Lemon as team leader, as he is the most experienced of all of you. Your first mission is detailed fully in the folders I have given you. In short, there will be an Adjudicator exchange in Bervil, and you will be charged with their duties during the interim period. It should be largely uneventful. You will leave shortly before midday tomorrow, the journey should take three days, and your stint as honorary Adjudicator should last about a day. Any questions? No? Good. I¡¯m off to do my actual job and I trust you all to handle yourselves without bugging me.¡±


    As he spoke the last part, he packed up his briefcase again and left as soon as he was done talking. The room remained quiet for a while until the sound of fast tapping drew all our attention. The metal thing the younger man, Simon, had been working on now had eight limbs protruding from it, taking the rough approximation of a spider, and had walked across the table and up the adjacent wall. Once up the wall, it slowly began to transfer itself to the ceiling one leg at a time, until it was completely upside down. It then promptly fell straight down, landing on the table with a crash and shattering.


    ¡°Well shit.¡±


    Simon laughed a bit before taking out a metal wand from somewhere and pressing a button on it, causing all the pieces of the spider-bot to get sucked onto it. He then noticed everyone in the room was staring at him.


    ¡°What? It¡¯s a prototype. These things happen.¡±


    ¡°Were you listening to anything Bossman told us?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ some of it. What¡¯s it matter anyhow? He gave us these.¡±


    He held up his folder, looking at Lemon with a confused expression.


    ¡°Besides, why are you getting mad at me? The other guy slept the whole time and left as soon as he was done. He didn¡¯t even wait to watch Leggy Mark One.¡±


    It was at that point I noticed the kid, who I now knew was named Noah, was no longer there.


    ¡°Fine, fine. I get it. As long as you don¡¯t cause problems, then it wont be a problem. I¡¯m going to leave now. We¡¯ll meet here tomorrow before we set off.¡±


    He stood up and left, followed shortly by Clare.


    ¡°I hope you all rest well.¡±


    She had a voice of glass.


    ¡°Syz, you recorded Leggy¡¯s first outing, right?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Cool. We¡¯re going to go get Leggy Mark Two up and running. Bye, Slate.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Slate. See you tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Bye.¡±


    In seconds, I was alone in the room. I took some time to read through material in my folder, which detailed more precisely what our job would be, as well as some information about the situation that may or may not be useful. I then left and headed straight for the library to figure out what an Adjudicator was.

 39 - A Test

    Roles of the Church


    ¡°Adjudicator


    Adjudicators act as arbiters of the Church¡¯s justice across the outlying cities. Serving as the counterparts of the Bishops, Adjudicators settle physical disputes and defend the cities from external threats, projecting the might of Church and reinforcing belief and trust.


    Bishop


    Bishops act voices of the Church across the outlying cities. Serving as the counterparts of the Adjudicators, Bishops are tasked with the operation of the branch churches, projecting the voice of the Church, establishing and maintaining belief and trust.¡±


    ***


    The remainder of the day following the meeting was considerably less eventful. After a quick library visit, I returned to my room to read over the mission information in detail. Apart from what we had already been told, there wasn¡¯t any more vital information. We were only forecasted to be in the city for a day, arriving just after the first Adjudicator departed and leaving just before the second arrived.


    Our stated duty was simply to fill the role of Adjudicator in their absence, something which could be incredibly simple or exceedingly challenging, and of course it could be anything in between. In the briefing, we were told explicitly to act conservatively; we weren¡¯t to take action unless our motivation was clear. In the cases where any action could cause any sort of undo conflict, we were to seek instruction from one of the Bishops in the city. We were nothing more than a stand-in for the real Adjudicator, and while we would have the same authority on paper, we were unlikely to be viewed in the same way by the people of the city. It wasn¡¯t lost on me that the six of us were to do the job of one person, and that we weren¡¯t expected to do it well.


    Also included in the folder was information on the city and the surrounding area, including a map. Burvil, located northwest of the capital, was considerably larger than Aarkile, having two fringe towns to support as opposed to one. These towns and their forts were placed in a mountain range, guarding the two places where passage was possible. The city itself was partially built into the same mountain range, insofar as the stone used to build the city and its walls was dug out of the mountains, with the created empty space being filled with more buildings.


    Included at the end of the city details was list of important figures and families in the city and their affiliations. There were just a handful of families listed, each with a different unique power, only three of which were stand outs. The most powerful family in the city, both in terms of physical and political power, used water magic and was affiliated with the Church. They were one of two families directly affiliated with the Church, the second one being a family which used ice magic. This family was much fewer in number, but due to their good synergy with the water family, they were seen as equals.


    The only family I felt we needed to worry about was the third most influential family. They didn¡¯t have a family-specific magic, but they were directly affiliated with the People¡¯s Government, and while their official stance towards the Church was neutral, they had a reputation for being particularly aggressive towards Church members, especially with hunter teams. In theory, us only being there for a day, and us acting in the capacity of Adjudicator while we were there, should mean we¡¯d avoid most conflict with them.


    This job felt weird to me. Dealing with people was significantly more complicated than killing things, but we were getting thrown into it full force, with potential for significant harm to more people than just us. This was largely why I was taking this extra time reading through the material we had been given. Even though the actual details regarding the mission stated multiple times we¡¯d have a simple job ahead, there was simply too much that could go wrong, and it didn¡¯t sit right.


    My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my door.


    ¡°Slate, meet me in the training room.¡±


    It was Lemon¡¯s voice. I had reached the point of reading where I was mostly going through the same parts over and over to try and engrain them in my memory, so the distraction was certainly welcome, even if the request made me a bit apprehensive. I placed the papers back in the folder and picked up my sword. As I walked to the door, I mulled over how having the sword on my hip was quickly becoming more comfortable than not, and how I was becoming increasingly eager to use it in actual combat.


    After a short walk, I was in the training room watching Lemon move the equipment towards the edges.


    ¡°So, we¡¯re fighting then?¡±


    ¡°Yep. If you¡¯re going to be on my team, I need to know what you can do. The others have been around here long enough to have enough information recorded on their ability. You, being a new addition, have next to nothing on file yet, and if I know nothing about you, I don¡¯t know what to do with you.¡±


    ¡°What if I¡¯m not a fighter?¡±


    He paused what he was doing to look at me like I was an idiot.


    ¡°Then you wouldn¡¯t be here. A team member that needs to be protected at all times, no matter what they can do, is more of a hindrance than a benefit.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯d kick me out?¡±


    ¡°You kidding? I don¡¯t have that authority. No, I¡¯d go pester the brass about having a useless team member until someone gave me a damn good reason for you to be here. Now help me move stuff so we can get this over with.¡±


    I started moving stuff on the opposite side of the room from where he was.


    ¡°How far should I be moving things?¡±


    ¡°I just want a good amount of room in the middle here. There¡¯s more than enough room in here for these things to be both out of the way and accessible, but for some reason they put everything all over the place.¡±


    ¡°So about this far?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll work.¡±


    Bit by bit a square area was cleared in the center of the room, extending the already clear area the beast-like robot spheres were in.


    ¡°Alright, that should be good enough.¡±


    We met in the center of the room. The space we had clear felt nearly too big, making me feel small.


    ¡°So, what are we doing exactly?¡±


    ¡°Fighting. I thought I made that clear.¡±


    ¡°No, you did. I just figured there¡¯d be more to it than that.¡±


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I was getting to that, just needed more than two seconds. We¡¯ll do fists only and try not to kill each other.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to hear a little more certainty than ¡®try¡¯, but alright.¡±


    I started walking towards the edge of our little arena before pausing, looking down at my sword. There was the sensation of something pulling at my sleeve that somehow conveyed a feeling of worry. The sword did this every time I threatened to put it down, and even though I had largely grown used to it at this point, it always gave me mixed feelings. I couldn¡¯t deny the usefulness of the sword, and it wanting to remain by my side certainly didn¡¯t seem like the worst thing for me. On the other hand, it was a sentient sword. The only thing I could do in the moment, however, was to put it down while trying to, in some way, convey the temporary-ness of the separation. Having it by my side to potentially fall on was worse than dealing with its feelings.


    I returned to the center of the room, standing roughly ten feet from Lemon, who was looking at me quizzically. He seemed to put out of mind whatever he was thinking as his eyes became serious and he took a fighting stance. I responded in kind, adopting a more defensive stance.


    The distance between us wasn¡¯t large, and I fully expected him to cover it in almost an instant. While the explicit purpose of this was for Lemon to gauge my strength, I would also have the opportunity to gauge not just his strength but his character as well. While not necessarily accurate, the way he approached this fight would show me how he would lead our team.


    Seeing me ready myself, he smiled faintly before launching himself towards me. He crossed the distance as quickly as I expected, bearing down on my face with a fist that seemed to emanate a faint heat. Acting mostly on reaction, I sidestepped towards him on the opposite of his attacking side, intending to throw a jab at his undefended side. Before I was able to attack, he struck out sideways with his unused arm. This fist struck out like lightning, hitting me in the same moment I registered the attack. It was an attack I had no hope of avoiding, but what stopped me from even defending against it was that his eyes, which I had been watching to predict his moves, hadn¡¯t moved in the slightest since I moved.


    The fist struck me hard in the chest, making me skip a breath and sending me stumbling backwards a few steps. After hitting me, Lemon had taken a few steps backwards, returning to almost the same position he had started in, and was now slowly walking towards me in the same stance as before.


    I forced myself to steady my breathing before once again taking a defensive stance. The situation was the same as before. There was nothing new to read about Lemon¡¯s person, and I knew that at any moment he would cross the remaining distance between us in an instant. His eyes were completely placid; the focus of someone with years of experience doing just this. As I was deciding my next move, he moved.


    Like before, his fist was before me, attacking in the same manner. I sidestepped to the other side this time, acting even more purely on reaction than the first time. His hand narrowly missed my head, but before I could even make a move in response, he drew his arm back and struck the back of my neck with his elbow, between my shoulder blades.


    I once again stumbled a few steps before quickly turning back to face him. He had created some distance and was slowly walking towards me once again. I rolled my shoulders to alleviate the pain between them, all the while watching my opponent for any movement. It had become clear that the follow-up attack was the blow that was intended to hit me, but there was too much power behind the initial attack to ignore it. Blocking it was a sketchy proposition at best, but it wasn¡¯t off the table.


    As I was thinking, he attacked again. This time, I moved directly towards him. I had one hand positioned to block the secondary attack while I bent my legs slightly to avoid the primary. I didn¡¯t have an attack in mind this time; I was out of ideas and I wanted to see how he¡¯d respond.


    Just as I was about to make contact with him, he bent his outstretched arm and struck down on my shoulder with his elbow. The blow made me bend forward slightly where I saw a knee quickly rising to meet my nose. I kicked back reactively, once again stumbling backwards, as I realized his knee had stopped just before where it would have hit me. My heart, already beating rather quickly, briefly sped up a bit.


    Like before, the two of us stood with roughly ten feet between us, but unlike before, Lemon wasn¡¯t moving towards me. Instead, he spoke.


    ¡°Humans and beasts are completely different opponents, but it doesn¡¯t mean you must give up all you¡¯ve learned to fight one to defeat the other. A beast will attack simply and effectively, but most important, ruthlessly. A person will have multiple avenues of attack, and as many avenues of counterattack, but they may not always be attacking with the intent to kill you. With either opponent, nothing is gained from allowing fear to take hold. If you fight with the fear of death, you fight towards death. Simple as.¡±


    ¡°Fighting without regard for my own life against something that will ignore its own injuries to kill me seems like a bad idea.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but think of it this way. You either win or lose; you live, or you die. If you¡¯re fighting something that can kill you, if you hesitate, because you don¡¯t want to get hurt or something, it will kill you. That said, always know your opponent. There¡¯s no reason to fight an unwinnable fight, and a dishonorable win is better than an honorable death.¡±


    ¡°I get that you want me to figure out whatever you¡¯re talking about on my own, but if we¡¯re going to be practicing anyway you might as well get to the point.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Your primary goal right now is not getting hit. It¡¯s reasonable. You don¡¯t know how I fight so you choose caution first. Thing is though, you should¡¯ve realized pretty quickly that I¡¯m not trying to kill you. It¡¯s actually very easy to tell when someone¡¯s trying to kill you, but you¡¯ll figure that out on your own soon enough. That said, just because someone isn¡¯t trying to kill you, doesn¡¯t mean you shouldn¡¯t be fighting with the intent to kill them.¡±


    ¡°I think some people would disagree with you on that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, fuck ¡®em. My comment about fearing death was specifically telling you to get over your fear of being hurt, but there¡¯s another element to it. You can¡¯t fight if you¡¯re worried about hurting or killing your opponent. Pull a punch at the wrong moment, and you lose; potentially die. Fight to kill, kill to win. Or force your opponent to tap. Whichever comes first.¡±


    ¡°So, you want me to try and kill you?¡±


    ¡°Right, so brains aren¡¯t your strong suit, noted. I¡¯m just telling you to go all-out. I¡¯m someone trying to kill you; you¡¯re fighting to live. That is the situation we¡¯ll be getting into, and I need to know how much I can rely on you. Now, ready yourself.¡±


    As he finished talking, Lemon put his hands back up and started walking towards me once more. This time, I matched his stance and started moving towards him. The standard gap we had set came and went, and Lemon made to launch an attack yet again. This time, however, I watched for the moment he shifted his weight to his leg to dash towards me, and just as his balance was mostly on one leg, I moved. With as much strength as I could, I darted towards him, throwing out a simple but strong low punch at his abdomen, keeping my other arm up near my chest and face.


    The punch looked and felt good, and for a moment I thought it may actually connect. The thought faded quickly though, as I watched him continue his movement, putting his weight fully onto his leading leg and spinning sideways, using the movement to dodge my punch, and using the momentum from it to throw a punch at my head. This was a new move from the previous punches, and it carried noticeably more power behind it while also moving considerably faster than the others. The only thing I could think to do in the moment was to duck. I made the split-second decision to push off the ground towards him with as much strength as I could, using my new position to attempt to drive my shoulder into his chest. This time, my attack landed.


    There was a solid thump as my shoulder hit him squarely in the chest while his fist passed harmlessly over my head. The two of us stumbled a few steps in the same direction while he let out a few shallow coughs. I decided in that moment to truly take his advice to heart, giving him a strong shove before he could regain his footing. I regained my balance in a few more steps while he continued stumbling backwards, nearly falling over.


    As soon as I found my footing, I dashed towards him, abandoning any defensive posture in an attempt to push my advantage as much as possible. Before I could reach him, he was able to catch himself and throw his hands up, prepared to meet my attack. A small smile crawled out of the corners of his lips. I too smiled as I reached him, throwing a full-strength punch, with the added momentum of my whole body, directly at his face. His smile faltered as he hastily put his hands in front of his face.


    As my fist struck his hands, there was a puff of black smoke. I stopped nearly dead in my tracks, having lost all of my momentum in that punch. Barely registering the smoke phenomenon, I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle to myself as I looked at my shaking hand, thinking about how hitting him just now felt like striking a wall. Through the smoke cloud, I could make out Lemon smiling at me.

 40 - Underwhelming

    Following my last punch, there was enough of a gap in combat for me to notice the temperature in the room had increased noticeably.


    ¡°Now, the real fight starts.¡±


    ¡°Real fight?¡±


    I didn¡¯t get an answer as Lemon once again launched an attack, crossing the distance between us in an instant, the remnants of the smoke cloud violently dispersing in his wake. His fist was once again rapidly approaching me, followed by his face, plastered with a mad grin. I took a step back, intending to dodge, but at the last second, I braced myself and threw an open-handed strike at his incoming fist in an attempt to catch it.


    Our hands met with a crack, but neither of us budged. My arm was a bit sore, but I was otherwise unharmed. The development was clearly a surprise to both of us as we looked at his fist in my hand. As if coordinated, our gazes drifted upwards until we made eye contact, where I instinctively grinned at him. Before he could react, I crouched and drove myself into him, grabbing his wrist with my free hand and releasing his fist, grabbing his forearm with now both hands. From there I pulled his arm down and stood up, throwing him over and in front of me.


    As he arced over me, the realization that I didn¡¯t know what to do after this struck me. I put more strength into my arms, trying to swing him into the ground, hoping I¡¯d have long enough of an opening after he hit the ground for me to figure out my next move. Just as he was about to hit the ground though, he abruptly thrust his legs out under him, landing firmly. Before I could react, he ripped his arm forward, sending me stumbling in front of him. Before I could regain my footing, he took a step forward and threw out a full force, roundhouse kick, a thin line of smoke trailing from the tip of his foot. The kick hit me hard in my side while I was still off balance, and I soon found myself tumbling across our little arena.


    I swiftly stopped my movement and forced myself off the ground with a quick push with both arms. Lemon hadn¡¯t let up and was nearly in striking range again. As I stood and prepared myself to meet him again, I realized his strike, while powerful, hadn¡¯t hurt all that much. In the moment, I took that to mean he had held back, or that I was too focused to truly feel the pain. Either way, I knew I had to take action before the situation changed.


    Rather than waiting for Lemon to approach me, I closed the small remaining distance between us and immediately sent a jab at his face. He blocked it easily and responded with a kick aimed at my thigh. Not having enough time to step back or block, the only thing I could think to do was to strike his leg with my palm. In a split-second decision though, I decided to grab his leg instead of striking it, forcefully stopping it. The smile that had been on his face until now faltered. With a smirk, I threw a punch at his chest, which he blocked, but with his leg still firmly in my hand, he didn¡¯t have the balance to launch a counterattack.


    While tightening my grip on his calf in response to him trying to pull his leg back, I started hammering on his hands. They were blocking his face, but my goal wasn¡¯t to break through his guard. Rather, it was to attempt to weaken his hands and arms. If it hurt every time he struck or blocked, the fight would, in theory, become much easier for me, and ideally, if his arms were to weaken and slow, I could possibly sneak a real strike onto his person.


    Just as I was starting to wonder when he¡¯d start to show signs of weakness, he suddenly deflected my hand instead of blocking, interrupting my attack rhythm. He then lifted his other leg off the ground. To my surprise, even though I was now holding all of his weight with my one arm, he didn¡¯t feel particularly heavy. It also wasn¡¯t lost on me how strong his legs must¡¯ve been to be able to hold his entire body up like this. While I stood there in mild shock, he swung his leg towards my head. I raised my arm to block it, but with his whole weight put behind this maneuver, there wasn¡¯t much I could do.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Almost instantly, the two of us hit the ground. Somehow, both my arms ended up pinned, rendering me completely immobile. His elbow was bearing down on me quickly, tracing a thin line of smoke in the air as it went. Then, suddenly, it stopped just above my face. Just like that, the fight was over.


    ¡°I think we can stop here.¡±


    I let out a sigh of relief as he started standing up. Once he stood up fully though, and took a step away, my breath caught in my throat. Floating just behind where his head had been, was my sword, poised to thrust and gently spinning in place. Before he stood up, it would¡¯ve been nearly touching the hair on the back of his head. As I stood up, the sword spun around, almost instantly, presenting its hilt to me. I glanced between it and Lemon, who was staring intently at the sword, briefly before taking it and returning it to its place on my hip.


    ¡°I swear I didn¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°Really? Unfortunate.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re fighting skills were good enough for me, perhaps a bit lacking in quickness, but it would¡¯ve been better if you were willing to break the rules we agreed on to win.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the point of having rules then?¡±


    ¡°Manipulating the people dumb enough to stick to them at the expense of their own wellbeing. Of course, I need to follow them in my capacity as leader or people will get real mad with me, but as they say, if you aren¡¯t cheating, you aren¡¯t trying. A dishonorable win is better than an honorable loss.¡±


    ¡°You said that already.¡±


    ¡°Saying it twice makes it more true. Now. I have to go make sure everything is together for tomorrow. Spend your time however you want.¡±


    He then walked out, and I let him go unchallenged. As he left, I noticed him massaging his hands and rolling his wrists.


    The whole exchange had left me feeling somewhat strange. The two of us were close in strength, which came as a surprise to me, especially when near the end of the fight, it felt like I could¡¯ve won had just a few things happened differently. Thinking about it more though, no matter how close we were in strength, he far outmatched me in experience; everything I threw at him was effectively countered, and there was no reason why anything else would achieve a different outcome. The other side of it to consider was the fact that he had been purposefully holding back in order to both observe and teach, and that he wasn¡¯t using a weapon. Given his comments about being ruthless and decisive in combat, I could only assume he¡¯d treat it like that in a real fight. Whatever the case, I was sure I¡¯d get a chance to watch him in a real fight in time. All I could do now though, was to focus on improving myself.


    I pulled out my sword again and simply looked at it, sighing after a while. I¡¯d wondered before whether the sword was bringing me more trouble than it was worth, but it was a magic sword, and that alone was enough for me to want to keep it, especially having seen what it could do. The problem though, as it stood, was that it simply had too much of a mind of its own, which was a rather insane thing to consider in the context of a sword. Everything I had seen it do was a result of, as far as I could tell, its own will. If I was able to make use of it properly, even if I couldn¡¯t control it completely, I felt that I wouldn¡¯t have to truly fear much. For now though, all it was was a good sword, but a sword too sharp to even train with.


    Looking at the sword, I held it out in front of me and dropped it.


    ¡°Float!¡±


    It hit the ground with a clang. I kept my hand outstretched.


    ¡°Return!¡±


    The sword stayed on the ground, unmoving. I bent over and picked it up, returning it to its place. Whatever abilities it had, it refused to allow me to use them.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how long we had been fighting for, but I estimated there were a few hours before we were to meet. There was nothing left I needed to do, but I couldn¡¯t stand around doing nothing for hours. I had spent the last week with a clear goal to work towards, but now, at least for just a brief moment, I was back in a similar place to before I left for the city. I decided to go out and wander, finally exploring the city I had technically spent the last week in even though I had never step foot out of this building.

 41 - The First Floor of the Church

    I returned to my room briefly to grab the badge-thing I had been given before taking the rope elevator down to the first floor. I had gotten used to using these things in the time I had been here, but I couldn¡¯t help but wish there were simple stairs instead.


    I was once again in the large empty space that comprised the first floor of the church. While it looked like some sort of castle, this building was, in reality, the central church of the Church of the Serpent. The large space on the first floor was used for the occasional service, but most of the time was simply a public space. Unlike the first time I went through this room, I actually had the time to look around. The most impressive sight was the grand chandelier that hung from the ceiling over the center of the room, although I only realized in the moment that the black stone of the ceiling sloped steeply towards the middle, causing the top parts to be completely shrouded in shadow. The chandelier itself was hung from an array of considerably thin cables, nearly invisible if one wasn¡¯t looking closely, giving the impression that the chandelier simply floated in the air.


    The actual construction of the chandelier was a marvel itself. It was a multi-tiered design, each branch of it being modeled after a snake, brilliant white fire burning fiercely in each of their mouths. Along each part were intricately carved scales, and as the snakes converged near the middle, they began to wrap around each other like a rope. There were three tiers to the chandelier in total, with each tier having larger branches than the one above it, and each branch being offset so that each source of fire sat between the two below it. The fire in each of the mouths also varied in size along with the size of the snake holding it. The middle shaft of the chandelier resembled a tightly coiled rope that blossomed out along its length. Near the top, the tails of the smaller snakes stopped after a short length, revealing the tails of the medium snakes, which then similarly stopped to reveal the tails of the large snakes, which coiled to a point at the topmost point of the chandelier. The metal the snakes were made of was black, whether natural or painted I wasn¡¯t sure, which caused the snakes to seemingly disappear when standing directly underneath, creating the illusion of an unceasing night sky above the church hall.


    Thinking on it more, it was clear it wasn¡¯t a purely physical phenomenon, that there was some sort of interwoven magic helping to bring the illusion to life. In fact, every part of the church I had been in appeared to be built of the same subtle magic. The way the hallway on the floor I lived on completely nullified sound and reflected light was certainly unnatural, no matter how much the physical construction helped. I hadn¡¯t noticed in the time I had passed through before, but standing here I noticed the hall felt strange. It was a weird sense I couldn¡¯t quite put a finger on, but there was certainly something, something about how the sound and light moved throughout the space, something about how the walls and ceiling seemed to stretch away the longer I stood in one place. I blinked, and everything returned to normal, but all I could do was acknowledge its existence and try not to think about it.


    I started walking for the door to leave, but something caught my eye. The walls around the main hall were covered in intricate carvings, which I had assumed decorative when I first looked at them, however I now noticed there were multiple distinct figures in the section nearest me, and that it seemed to be depicting an event. The inside of the hall was made of the same hexagonal stone pillars that comprised the concentric rings visible from outside the church, and it was on the flat faces of the bases of these pillars that the depictions were carved on. There were dozens of pillars that formed the bottommost ring of the church, and a single face of each was wider than my arm span by a considerable margin. I walked around the hall, observing the carvings. They were divided into four sections, with a single blank pillar separating each section. They started with the one by the door and looped around the hall, with the fourth, blank section being the one on the other side of the front doors. Where there were sections of the pillars cut out to make space for doorways, the carvings were shifted upwards, often incorporating the doorway into the design.


    In the first section, each pillar face was filled with people. Each face showed a distinct group of people, shown by how each group was carved with its own distinct armor or clothing design. Some were clad in full plate armor, not even showing their faces nor any part of their body, while others were dressed in scarce clothing, covering only the important parts. Some groups held weapons while others didn¡¯t; some groups all wielded the exact same weapon, while some were depicted with each member holding a different one. Above each group was a depiction of a sky vastly different from the ever-present overcast night what hung in the air now. There was a bright sun, its edges and rays seemingly fluid despite being carved in unmoving stone, that hung in the center of this section. There were scattered clouds as well, placed at random across the sky, sometimes crossing over from one pillar face to another. The stone meant to comprise the sky was carved with faint strokes, barely noticeable, but they served to reflect the light of the hall in just the right way to make the stone appear brighter without using any color. The thing that struck me about this depiction was that, despite the clear, prominent differences between each group of people, there was a clear feeling of order and unity amongst them. Within each group, yes, but also from one group to the next.


    The middle panel of this section showed a group clad in full plate armor, each holding a halberd taller than them and a half. A faint, almost ethereal fire outline was carved around the group. Behind them stood a depiction of the church, its base spanning the whole width of the face of the pillar, and its central spire reaching far into the sky, above the clouds and nearly to the height of the sun. Behind and above the topmost part of the central spire and even the sun, an ethereal, faint carving of a snake, its width spanning from above the sun to behind part of the tip of the Church, hung above all the people below. As I followed its length, it became clear that this carving continued around the circumference of the room, continued through even the blank separation panels, but stopped at the blank section near the front doors. At parts, where the lighting of the room weakened, it would disappear, only to reappear later out of the shadows.


    I walked over to the next section, the depiction carved into it considerably different from the first. In the middle panel of the section, the image of the Church once again stood prominently, towering over the scene below. On the panels to one side of the Church, the side closer to the first section, there were once again depictions of people, but instead of each panel having a distinct group, they were all mixed together and facing the panels to the other side of the Church. On those panels was a fairly similar image, but instead of people, there were beasts. They were spread as chaotic and as completely across the panels as the people they opposed, and just like them, they appeared in a seemingly infinite number of forms. There were beasts I had seen scattered throughout, but the majority of them were things I had never seen, although some did match descriptions I had read of, implying they were all depictions of real beasts. Above this scene, the clouds had become denser and the sky darker; the sun still hung in the sky, but its rays were obscured.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    In the next section, the beasts were gone, but rather than a scene of a triumphant battle, the beasts had simply been replaced with people. On either side of the Church, distinct groups of people were once again depicted on each panel, but unlike the first section where they all faced forward, the two sides now had their eyes locked on each other. The number of people comprising in each group had decreased to about a quarter of their original sizes. Above them, the cloud cover had increased, now a continuous line across the sky, blocking out the sun. The bottom edge of it hung just over the tip of the Church¡¯s tallest spire.


    A deep sadness was interwoven throughout the piece. The other sections evoked certain feelings, but the exact nature of those feelings would vary from person to person. With this one though, despite the relative simplicity of the image, there was a feeling of regret that seemed to jump out of it; the feeling of realizing that which was is no longer, and will never once more be, and that no one seems to realize or care; a bitter nostalgia and a reluctant acceptance.


    Then, there was nothing. While I wasn¡¯t sure at first, it became clear by the third section these were depictions of history, but it still left me pondering the reason for the unwritten fourth section. Logically, it was meant to depict events which had yet to happen; literally in this case, events that were not yet set in stone. There was, however, a part of me that wondered about the contrary possibility that it had been left blank to hide something. If the events depicted were what I presumed them to be, then there were millennia between the third section and what should be the end of the fourth, while the second and third sections should only depict a few hundred years total between them. The time discrepancy was too large for me to not question it.


    As I stood there and thought more about it, though, a third possibility occurred to me. Despite thousands of years having passed since the events of the third section, it wasn¡¯t impossible for it to still be a depiction of the present. I contented myself to leave and put the question aside, but as I turned to leave, I noticed there was now someone standing between me and the door, looking at the blank section, and standing close enough to me that I had to stop my turn to not run into him.


    He was marginally taller than me, with a head of thick black hair speckled with white. Above his lip sat a thick, black mustache, similarly speckled with signs of age. He stood completely still, staring intently at the blank section in front of him, his arms clasped behind his back. He was dressed in a black robe, edged in grey, with the sleeves crudely ripped off just above the elbow, exposing thick, scarred forearms. It was unfastened at the front, revealing a simple white shirt and rough black pants. His figure was oddly imposing, even though I didn¡¯t feel particularly threatened by him.


    I took a step back and made to walk around him and to the doors, wondering how long he had been standing next to me. As I walked past him, though, he grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip. I looked down, only then noticing that his hands were at least twice the size of mine, his arms similarly sized. I also noticed his hands were oddly cold, or at least, not as warm as I would¡¯ve expected from the size.


    ¡°I know you have questions, so why don¡¯t you ask them?¡±


    I looked up to find him staring at me. His eyes were an uncomfortably light gray, nearly white, and his eyebrows mirrored his mustache in thickness. It made me wonder if he was capable of not having an intense expression, and that thought made me subconsciously lower my guard.


    ¡°Do you have answers?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    He let go of my arm, and I returned to my spot beside him. He turned back to look at the wall.


    ¡°Why is this section empty?¡±


    ¡°Who told you it was empty?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing¡­ on¡­ it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d argue there¡¯s too much on it.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°You are aware of what stone carving is, yes?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Then you should know it to be a reductive artform; only through taking away can something take form in this way. When just enough is taken, the complete image reveals itself. Therefore, I await the day the stone hiding this image is removed, and while I wait, I wonder about the infinite beneath it. It is a blank slate, ready to be written over. Whether what is written on it will take the form of the past, and has therefore been already written, or whether what is written on it will take the form of the future, and has yet to be decided, it is impossible to know, but that, I believe, is a much better question to ask; to wonder about what could be, rather than what is, after all, what is, is finite, and what could be, is infinite.¡±


    ¡°Why wonder about something you have no control over?¡±


    ¡°Is that what you believe? You yourself are curious about the nature of this piece, are you not?¡±


    ¡°I am. However, I am content to wait for the answer. Whatever expectation I may set for it, I would inevitably be disappointed.¡±


    ¡°Only if you allow it to disappoint you. I see the infinite possibilities, but I expect none, for even if this were to stay blank for eternity, it would still have meaning. As for having no control over it, in my life, I have found things to be far more connected than you give them credit, and it is truly impossible to know the full consequences of an action. If rain falls for an extra hour, standing water turns into a flood, a flood which sweeps away a village, and from then on, a tragedy is remembered. From simple rain to tragedy, such is the world. Don¡¯t sell yourself short, you too can cause a tragedy.¡±


    ¡°Or prevent one.¡±


    ¡°And in the effort, cause another.¡±


    ¡°Or not.¡±


    ¡°Or not.¡±


    ¡°But there is only one thing this could be, right? At the end of the day, no matter what happens, only one event will be immortalized on this wall, and in a sense, whatever that will be, already is. Once it happens, it will forever be that, and therefore, will have always been that.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that is one way of looking at it. I would ask you though, if the people who make the decisions that lead to whatever event is depicted believe every choice they made to be of their own free will, are they absolved from the result of their decision? Let us say the event is a tragedy. Should they be seen as being free of blame? If it is a fortuitous event, should they be praised? If us meeting was preordained, but every choice the two of us made that brought us here we made believing it to be of our own free will, would we know any different?¡±


    ¡°I guess not, although I wouldn¡¯t necessarily feel good knowing I couldn¡¯t avoid it.¡±


    ¡°Then believe you could¡¯ve, if it makes you feel better. If you do something good, choose to believe it was your choice; if you do something you regret, choose to believe it was unavoidable.¡±


    ¡°Which way do you live?¡±


    At that, for the first time since we started talking, he turned away from the way to look at me.


    ¡°I will allow no one to control my life other than myself.¡±


    He turned back to look at the wall. About a minute passed in silence.


    ¡°So, who carved these?¡±


    ¡°No one knows.¡±


    ¡°No one?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It is truly as if they simply appeared one day, and then there they were.¡±


    There was a brief silence.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I think you¡¯ve given me plenty to think about.¡±


    ¡°You needn¡¯t think too much. Moreso, keep it somewhere in your mind, and some parts may assist when you need them.¡±


    ¡°Will do. Goodbye.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye.¡±


    With that I left, walking through the open front doors to the church, which I could¡¯ve sworn were closed throughout my exchange with the man. As I took a step out of the church, I realized I didn¡¯t ask the man for his name, but when I turned back, I noticed him catching the rope elevator, quickly disappearing. I sighed and turned back towards the city.


    ¡°Strange guy.¡±

 42 - Excursion

    The Magical Blacksmiths of the Church and their Impossible Weapons and Armor


    Pt. 1


    ¡°It has long been known the blacksmiths employed by the Church produce equipment unlike any other smith from any of the cities can muster. The armor, though somewhat rare to see, always shines with a radiance found only in the light of the long-forgotten Sun or the seldom seen Moon. Each piece appears molded to the body of the wearer, yet they remain unencumbered by it, with their physical abilities left completely intact or even, by some accounts, improved by a significant margin. These armor sets, however, are an incredibly rare sight. The most common set to see is the golden armor worn by the Guard Order of the Old City, and for the vast majority of people, that is the only type they would even have a chance to see.


    ¡°There does exist more armor outside of that, however the only time it is ever seen is in the direst of circumstances, those so dire that, even with the help of those in armor, too few are left alive for rumors to spread. In the accounts we have, they are only seen in use against beast waves that threaten a major city, beyond that which only a team of Heros could stand against. The only record of these armor sets come from accounts of said Heros who happened to bear witness to its use, and it is from these accounts that we can be sure of the existence of multiple sets of armor outside of those made for the Guards. There exist only six accounts of these armors, three of which are of the same figure, leaving us with proof of only four different armors. Assuming they are worn only by a single person, this also leaves us with only four individuals deemed worthy enough of this armor.


    ¡°The armor seen most often is of a deep red color, worn by a figure described in each account as ¡®towering¡¯ or ¡®hulking¡¯, even from a great distance. The armor itself is ferocious in design, with many layered sections and sharp points and edges. The gauntlets of the armor have short, wide blades built into them directly, coming out over the back of the wearer¡¯s hands, who fights using hand-to-hand techniques in a flurry of slashes and dismembered parts. Unlike the other armored figures, this one has not been observed to use any magic nor sweeping attacks that cover a large area, instead meeting waves head on, steadily walking through them until reaching the lead beast of the wave, always a truly monstrous figure that strikes fear into even Heros, wherein it is quickly dispatched. At that point, those called to defend against the wave arrive to clean up what remains of it, and in the chaos, the armored figure disappears just as quietly as they arrived.¡±


    ***


    Walking out of the church, I once again basked in the golden glow of the city. Before me was a large square, the largest one of the city, and behind it stretched a road that led unobstructed to the outer wall of the city. The entrance to the church, and by extension the road leading from it, faced east. About halfway between the church and the wall was a square with a fountain. On each of the four main roads there was a square with a fountain, and secondary roads ran through each of the squares perpendicular to the main roads. Where the secondary roads met there was a square, smaller than those on the main roads and missing their fountains.


    I walked down the main road extending from the church.


    All the buildings of the city were roughly the same height, either three or four stories. The buildings with four floors were slightly taller than the buildings with three. Judging by the window spacing, each of the floors for the four-story buildings were shorter than those of the three-story buildings, hence why they were still close to the same overall height. I assumed there to be a limit placed on building height, since I¡¯d expect heights to gradually increase approaching the city center, as they did in my town.


    The city was built on a grid, with there being space for four standard buildings between each side street. Despite the whole being circular, there weren¡¯t any accommodations made to the buildings themselves to keep the grid aligned. Instead, the streets that looped around the city were expanded or reduced to fill the right angles created by the grid. The sizing of each of the blocks was tuned to minimize the changes that needed to be made to the roads. Naturally, the farther away from the center of the city, the more the roads would need to be adjusted in order to keep the circular pattern of the city, but instead of simply keeping empty areas of road, the spaces were expanded into more public squares for people to use how they wished. The buildings didn¡¯t extend all the way up to the walls, and the space between them was used as the final spacing measure to keep the city circular. Very little of this was immediately visible from ground level, however I had seen maps occasionally in my time in the library where this all was shown, and knowing what to look for, I noticed some of the evidence of this construction.


    All the buildings themselves were all made of the same white stone with shingled slate roofs. The roofs sloped into gutters that ran along the street, which I found odd as in the week I had spent here, I had never seen it rain in the city once. This stood directly at odds with the world outside the city where there were only a handful of dry days in a year; it was always at least misty, usually drizzling, and often outright raining, yet the city was bone dry, making the rain diversion system present throughout the city seem unnecessary.


    After walking for a while, I arrived in the east plaza. The space was four city blocks wide on each side, plus the space for each of the main roads which crossed through it. In the center was a fountain roughly two houses wide. When we first entered the city, we passed through the north plaza and by extension the fountain in the center of it, and while I didn¡¯t notice the design of that fountain at the time, I immediately noticed this one. Its design was the same as the one in my town, albeit larger.


    There was a market set up in the square when I arrived. Wooden tables and multi-colored awnings covered the whole area, with hardly any room for walking between them. There was a wide array of goods on offer, from food and tools to children¡¯s toys and alcohol, the latter two placed consistently close to each other. There were hundreds of people milling throughout the market, with seemingly dozens at every table, the cacophony of their voices nearly deafening.


    I paused when the sight entered my eyes. A few days of travel away or less, there were dozens of cities where, at any moment, life could be entirely upended; where a whole city could be wiped off the map in a matter of a few hours, and the people there lived accordingly. Then there was this market.


    I weaved my way through the crowd, behind people bent over, inspecting jewelry displayed against a maroon table cloth, behind people holding new tools, barraging their makers with questions of their quality, behind mothers inspecting produce while their kids clung to their clothes while looking at the candy displayed across from them, behind other parents attempting to corral their kids who¡¯d no doubt gotten into said candy, likely as a freebee from the sellers, and finally, I ended up in the middle, the gentle sound of flowing water in the fountain helping to diminish the sounds of the crowd.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    There was a suspiciously large area left clear around the fountain. There was nothing I laid eyes on in the market that jumped out at me, but even if there was, watching people sort out their money made the thought of getting things essentially free very unappealing.


    I stood there for a while watching the crowd. The more I watched, the more the novelty of the market subsided. The blurred movement of the crowd came more into focus. I watched a child¡¯s face light up with joy as their parents finally caved and got them a toy they wanted and would surely only use for a week; I watched the bitter expression on a stall keeper¡¯s face as they were out haggled and forced to sell below what they wanted. I saw people simply out to enjoy the day walk past people on a mission to get everything they wanted in as short a time as possible.


    As I stood there, someone seemed to materialize out of the crowd, walking towards me. He was wearing simple clothing of just high enough quality to not stand out amongst the people around him, and he was holding something wrapped in brown paper in either hand. I had seen him before; it was the man who had introduced himself as Vulper. When he reached me, he offered me one of the things he was holding. It was a baked potato with a thin wood spoon stuck in it. I took it and he stood beside me, also watching the crowd. I scraped out a spoonful of potato and ate it. It was scalding.


    In between bites, he started talking.


    ¡°So, where¡¯d you get sent?¡±


    ¡°We leave for Burvil later today.¡±


    I made a few slits in my potato to help it cool down.


    ¡°Strange.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Burvil¡¯s situation is tense right now. The families on the Church¡¯s side have been declining for the last few generations, leaving a perceived power vacuum.¡±


    ¡°Perceived?¡±


    ¡°If you walk past a sleeping bear and it doesn¡¯t kill you, does it mean the bear can¡¯t kill you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Same principle.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Do keep in mind though, they¡¯d be stretched thin if they needed to cover the whole city for whatever reason.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a good omen, thanks.¡±


    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s going to happen will happen. Better to address the worst case and prepare for it than allow superstition to cloud your judgement.¡±


    We stood silently for a while, quietly eating while watching the crowd.


    ¡°So, what are you doing here? I thought you said you had something to do?¡±


    ¡°Just finished a job. I like to come here to refresh - remind myself how many normal people there are.¡±


    ¡°Normal people?¡±


    As he started answering, I caught something in the crowd, and judging by his silence, Vulper had seen it too. A man, neither young nor old, had slipped a hand into a woman¡¯s bag and pilfered a coin pouch. She didn¡¯t notice immediately, as her attention was split between the person selling pottery she was talking to and the small child clutching the hem of her shirt, nor did anyone in the crowd seem to notice, but our position gave us a clear line of sight. As the pickpocket moved his hand away though, the woman turned, the strap of her bag catching his wrist. She turned around quickly, immediately seeing the thief who had bumped into someone walking by in his hasty attempt to flee. The woman took a step forward, but then stopped as a look of consternation flashed across her face. She clearly wanted to chase him, and if she did, she could likely catch him, however, doing so would mean leaving her child.


    The woman looked down at her child, now pointing at the thief running away from them and saying something. She sighed and a bitter smile crept onto her face. She patted the child on the head and said something, prompting a confused response from the child. As she started explaining something, there was a flash further down the street. Seemingly from nowhere, a figure clad fully in pale-gold, plate armor had appeared in the street, holding a tower shield in one hand and a longsword in the other.


    The figure appeared so unexpectedly in the path of the thief that he didn¡¯t even have time to process its presence, let alone stop. He missed a step as he unconsciously tried to avoid running into the armored figure, but even if he could¡¯ve stopped in an instant, he could do nothing about the figure striking out with their shield, smashing nearly the whole of the man¡¯s front. He wavered in place, but before he could fall down on his own, the figure threw a punch with their other hand, still holding the sword, hitting the man in the side of the head. Before he could be sent tumbling into the nearby stall though, the figure grabbed his hair with the knuckles of their sword hand, still not letting go of the sword. With his momentum stopped, the figure let go, allowing the man to fall to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. All movement in the surrounding area had stopped as everyone watched the scene.


    With the man sufficiently incapacitated, the figure drove the sword into the grout between the stones of the road, as well as through part of the man¡¯s clothes, effectively pinning him to the ground. They then bent over and picked up the fallen coin pouch, which the thief had dropped on the spot upon being hit with a metal shield the same size as him, with their now-free hand. They then walked over to the woman and returned her money. Before they left, they knelt down and patted the child, who was looking at them with starry eyes, on the head. As the figure turned to leave, their eyes passed over the two of us and lingered. I couldn¡¯t see their eyes, yet it was clear they were looking directly at us, and merely their gaze was enough to spark a fleeting terror. It came and went in an unforgettable instant as they turned, walking back over to the man, of course still on the ground, retrieved their sword, picked the man up by the back of his shirt, threw him over their shoulder, and walked away, once more disappearing into the crowd, who quickly returned to their normal state.


    When the thief had started to run, I had started to move, but he had been dealt with before I could even take a step; I didn¡¯t even have the time to drop my potato to run. For everything that followed, all I could do was watch in awe. Vulper, on the other hand, hadn¡¯t even flinched; he didn¡¯t even stop eating. I returned to my spot next to him.


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°City guard.¡±


    I stared blankly into the fluid crowd.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Nothing above ground in the city happens outside of their sight. Never forget that. Their mission is to protect first and foremost, and their record is flawless.¡±


    ¡°Is that why Heroes almost always come from the other cities?¡±


    ¡°Yep. The only exceptions are those like me who come out of the northwest.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°People need more hope there.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    The two of us stood there eating quietly, continuing to people watch. After a while, the noise turned into a blur in the back of my mind, and the scene became strangely peaceful. We remained there until we had finished eating, wherein Vulper gestured for me to give him my garbage. I did and, after compressing both mine and his own into a form small enough to fit in in his palm, he incinerated it in a brief flash of fire.


    ¡°It should be about time for you to go.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any advice?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot.¡±


    I waited for more, but nothing came.


    ¡°That it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what it boils down to. Nothing good comes out of making hasty decisions. Your hand is forced sometimes, but if you have time, use it, and always remember that deciding to not act is still an action. Like it said though, it boils down to ¡®don¡¯t be an idiot.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Any more advice about Burvil¡¯s situation?¡±


    ¡°Too many variables to say anything concrete. I ¡®spose it¡¯ll be good to remember that whatever you do will reflect back on the Church, so again, don¡¯t be an idiot. Remember that public opinion is the only judge that will matter in the end. Whatever you do, so long as the people don¡¯t see it as a bad thing, it isn¡¯t. The reverse is just as true, of course. Every group will eat their own if it means keeping their standing in the public eye, and I hope that you¡¯re the one to use that to your advantage if it is used at all.¡±


    ¡°Again, with the bad omens. I doubt we¡¯d be sent into anything we couldn¡¯t handle, especially as a first mission.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, but still, keep your eyes open.¡±


    ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll get going now.¡±


    I gave him a small wave and started walking away.


    ¡°Hold up.¡±


    I paused and turned around.


    ¡°I never got your name.¡±


    It took me a second to recall my new name.


    ¡°They¡¯re calling me Slate now.¡±


    He nodded, I nodded back, and then I left, walking back through the crowd towards the church.

 43 - Packing

    The Magical Blacksmiths of the Church and their Impossible Weapons and Armor


    Pt. 2


    ¡°The other three armored figures, having only been spotted once each, are still shrouded in some mystery, and what reports we have are likely to be somewhat inaccurate. The first of the three, as well as the one with the least interesting story, has armor of a brilliant silver color that seems to simply flow around their body like a liquid metal as opposed to the plate armor it likely is. They wield a single-bladed, two-handed sword, with a slight curve along its length, nearly the same as they are tall, yet they wield it with the ease of a dagger. The sword flows through the air like a winding river, each swing followed by a blinding trail of dazzling pale gold fire and a whistling sound audible across the battlefield. In the only account we have, this figure¡¯s battle ended following a series of attacks which created a scene of fire so bright it obscured the sight of even the Hero watching, and by the time it faded, not a few seconds later, the silver-armored figure was gone, leaving only a scorched battlefield behind.


    ¡°The next figure, and also the most recently seen, having appeared right after the declaration of the ninth generation, wears a deep purple armor and wields no weapon. The armor is of laminar design, although unlike typical armor using this design, the layers extend down the whole body and along each limb. The helmet, though largely of similar design to the others, has a ring of spikes around the edges, mimicking the stereotypical look of a crown. When this figure was spotted, unlike the other figures, they came to the defense of a fort, helping to defend against a wave that, by the accounts all present, would have surely wiped them out without the presence of this figure. The strange thing about the circumstance, however, is that the figure hardly fought at all, and instead hovered high above the fort, subsumed in a golden aura that lit the battlefield in a glow only seen in the City of Eternal Twilight that inexplicably healed any injury accrued by those fighting against the wave. The only attack made by the figure was against the lead beast of the wave, and all the attack was was a beam of pale gold fire that swept through the wave, incinerating all in its path and leaving a cleared path through the entire wave. The figure appeared above the fort just as the people stationed there began to fall to despair and left shortly following their cries of triumph when they realized they had survived.


    ¡°The final of the three figures, and the earliest of them spotted, wears a black plate armor. Unlike the others, this figure was not seen fighting. Instead, they were seen by a Hero rushing towards the sight of a reported wave. Their weapon, if they have one, is unknown, and likewise is the design of their armor. The thing that makes them stand out, though, is the fact that they were spotted flying high above the ground beyond the horizon, and the pair of metallic wings that extended from their back, an order of magnitude wider in wingspan than the armor figure was tall. When the Hero that spotted them arrived, there was nothing left of the wave, with the only evidence of the fight being shin-deep gouges that cris-crossed the battlefield, as well as the black fog that still hung in the air from the recently decayed beasts.¡±


    ***


    The return walk through the city was largely uneventful. I did notice, however, some strange behavior from some of the people walking around the city. Their eyes would linger on me, glancing between my person and my sword. Each pair of eyes seemed to carry a different collection of emotions, with varying levels of worry, as well as something more negative. I was far from the only person to walk around with weapons out, but I also was the only person I could see on my walk back once I started looking. My assumption was that, due to the omnipresence of the guards, few people would walk with weapons out, or at least not visible.


    There weren¡¯t any guards along my return trip, likely hidden from view until needed. Ever since that one glance though, I felt like I was being watched. I understood that it was more than likely just the knowledge that being watched at all times was entirely possible, even if it wasn¡¯t necessarily happening at the moment. I did try to look for guards, but, as I expected, I didn¡¯t spot any.


    The more I walked, the more my mind wandered, and the odder the situation of the guards seemed to me. There were gate guards, but they seemed more like civilians given a little training, weapons, and armor, and told to stand somewhere. In Aarkile, there were guards, but their armor was dark grey, just a bit darker than typical steel, and they were easy to spot. They were out of the way, but they were a relatively constant presence. The lack of guards in this city, meanwhile, gave it a strange feeling. It wasn¡¯t so different from my town, but everything else about the two was significantly different. The twisting, dingy streets would¡¯ve made any guard¡¯s job nearly impossible, while the types of people that willingly chose to live in the fringe towns weren¡¯t typically awfully concerned with law enforcement. The vigilance the city and the town inspired were of vastly different weights.


    As I was musing over whether being constantly watched or needing to constantly be on guard was worse, I arrived back at the stairs to the church. Walking through the main hall, I briefly looked over the panels again, noticing that the central group in the first section looked vaguely similar to the gold-armored figure, although the lack of specific detail in the carving made it hard to say for sure. There were only so many different types of full plate armor as well, so it wasn¡¯t hard to chalk it up to coincidence. Setting the oddity aside, I made my way back up to my floor.


    It was as silent as usual. The door to the central room was open slightly, but I couldn¡¯t hear any noise coming through it. I walked over and poked my head in, but there wasn¡¯t anyone in there. We didn¡¯t have much time before we were supposed to meet, at least in my estimation, but it seemed everyone was making the most of their free time. Cutting through the room, I made my way to the residential hallway and back to my room.


    I intended to get my things together, but looking at my barren room I was reminded that, apart from what was already on my person, the only things I had were a couple sets of clothes. On top of the dresser were the clothes I had changed out of when I first arrived, now clean and folded. Someone being in my room without my knowing made me a bit uneasy, at least until I remembered there was quite literally nothing in the room that actually belonged to me, but once that concern faded, the strangeness of this only happening now struck me. I had been here for a week, and these clothes had been in a pile near the foot of the bed the whole time. This was the first time I had left the church, yes, but I had been out of the room most of the time I had been there. I suppose whoever was in charge of this didn¡¯t want to risk being walked in on, hence them waiting until I was fully gone, but they also could have just knocked and asked. I mentally shrugged, putting it in the mental pile of all the strange things that had happened in my time here, and took out the rest of my clothes.


    Looking at the stack of clothes, it took me an unfortunate amount of time wondering what was missing to realize I didn¡¯t have a suitcase or travel bag to put them in. I double checked the rest of the dresser drawers, finding nothing in them. The shelves in the room were still empty, and there wasn¡¯t a closet or wardrobe things could have been stored in. My eyes eventually landed on the bed, specifically the fact that it wasn¡¯t flush with the ground and the covers draped just far enough over the edges to cover the gap. I walked over, bent over, and lifted the cover, hoping to see the answer to my worries, but there was nothing. There wasn¡¯t even a cobweb. I sighed at the result, realizing I was going to have to run back into the city. I sighed again and left my room, walking back to the rope elevator.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Trying to recall as many of the storefronts I saw in my brief excursion through the city, I made my way back the way I came. As I approached the rope elevator though, the doors either side of me caught my eye, particularly the one left open, revealing a room filled with the cluttered excess of the Church. These storerooms had been introduced to me in the introductory tour, however I had swiftly forgotten about them after having no need to go exploring their contents. Now though, in need of a travel bag, the possibility of finding one conveniently discarded here intrigued me enough to stop.


    Starting with the opened room, I walked into the room a few steps before stopping to observe what it contained. The room was short, only about two heads taller than I was, with shelves made of the same stone as the walls wrapping around the walls, with the only break in them being the doorframe. Most of the shelves were covered with big pieces of fabric, the exception being an area across from the door where the fabric which, presumably, had been covering it had been discarded to the nearby corner of the room on the floor.


    The majority of the floor space of the room was covered by things I couldn¡¯t immediately identify. They appeared to be, for the most part, made of metal by an expert hand; there were some made of larger pieces of metal, and clearly rougher in design even from my standing, while others were more intricate, having many smaller pieces held together through something hidden to me; there were some with pieces of their exteriors missing, revealing what was to me a mess of wiring and cabling. Near the back, things had been crudely piled on top of each other, and judging by the differing thickness in dust throughout the pile, it was clear things had been deposited at different times.


    It was a similar story with the uncovered portion of shelving in the room, although it seemed that only smaller things were put there. As hard as it was to differentiate everything in the pile on the floor, it was harder with these shelves; whereas with the things on the floor I felt I could reach down and pick a single thing up and examine it, it felt with this that I¡¯d get all manner of small items and miscellaneous parts. I did notice however, that a couple things on the shelf that looked spider-like. Similarly, there were some things near the front of the floor pile that reminded me of the beast-like robots in the training room, and while I wasn¡¯t sure, some things near the very back of the pile seemed to resemble humanoid parts, but the fine details of them were obscured by a rather thick layer of dust.


    I lifted the fabric covering the walls next to the door, but all that was there was pieces of rather unspectacular armor. There was a great variety of it, both different materials and different parts, but nothing that seemed actually all that special, although my standard was a sword that had a mind of its own, so my standard may have been a bit off. On one of the shelves, far enough down that I¡¯d have to wade through the metal mess on the floor, was a pile of what looked like small-loop chain, which I assumed to be chainmail. Plate armor was heavy and, for the most part, didn¡¯t do much to protect against a heavy blunt impact, which made it not very useful in fighting beasts. Chainmail, on the other hand, was light enough to not be cumbersome, and did a fairly good job protecting from the odd sharp bits on beasts. There was nothing else in this room worth grabbing, but I figured this would be better to have than not.


    The chainmail piece was far enough down the shelf that it was out of reach but was near the gap in two pieces of fabric. Holding onto an uncovered corner of one of the shelves for support, I took a large step into the metal pond, rustling my foot around until I found either the floor or something stable. When my foot found purchase, I let go of the shelf I was clutching and gingerly moved my other foot to join the first. As I did though, whatever I was standing on shifted a bit. Out of instinct, my hand shot out to grab one of the shelves nearby for support, and while I did find one of the shelves to grab, I managed to free the fabric from however it had been fastened. Thankfully, the thing I was standing on hadn¡¯t actually shifted enough to cause me to lose footing, and I was able to get both feet on it.


    I looked around at my precarious spot in the middle of everything and the fabric now covering my forearm and couldn¡¯t help but sigh at the situation. I let the fabric fall to the floor and grabbed the piece of chainmail I had eyed, now easily within arm¡¯s reach. It was a chainmail shirt, with sleeves that only went to about the end of the upper arm. I rolled it up and placed it under my arm before unsteadily stepping back onto the floor near the door, trailed by another shifting of the pile.


    As I went to leave, I took another look at the room, my eyes landing on the fabric I had knocked loose. After thinking for a second, I placed the chainmail on the ground and repeated the same routine to get one foot back onto whatever solid piece of metal I had found. From there, I did what I could to put it back up over the shelves, but, not knowing how it was suspended in the first place, all I could manage was to get it caught on the heavier items on the top shelf, luckily not knocking anything off. Having done what I could to leave the room as I found it, I left with my new armor.


    There were three rooms left now, and I could only hope they weren¡¯t as cluttered as the first. I went to the one just across the hall, which was thankfully barren. It was clear at first glance however, that this room also didn¡¯t have what I was looking for, as all the room had was multiple rows of weapon racks along the floor and walls. Unlike the other room, nothing here was covered, allowing me to see everything from the doorway. As with the armor, there was a large variety of weapons. The sight reminded me a bit of the discarded weapon room in the smith¡¯s shop in my old town. I stepped out and closed the door behind me.


    I moved to the next door down along the same wall, which was locked.


    The fourth and final room, which wasn¡¯t locked, held seemingly miscellaneous items. Upon a second glance though, most of it was spare things for the rooms on this floor, including chairs, bedding, pieces of wood and other repair and construction materials, stacks of clothing, and, thankfully, a number of containers clearly meant for holding items during travel. They ranged in size and material, but I settled on a wood-framed box covered in a thicker fabric, roughly the same dimensions as my torso, that had two leather straps to put arms through and carry it on one¡¯s back, a leather carry handle on top, and two latches which held the hinged back panel in place. Inside were a few pieces of wood the width of the box, usable for compartmentalizing the inside box. It made for a good suitcase for my limited number of items.


    I took it and my new chainmail back to my room. After some thought, I decided to wear the chainmail and put it on under my clothes. I took what clothes I had been given out of the dresser and put them in the suitcase, moving one of the pieces of wood to give the clothes their own section. With the clothes packed, the suitcase was about a third filled, although in just the clothes section there was still room for at least double what I had packed. Looking around my room, the only thing that caught my eye was the mission folder, which I placed in the suitcase as well. There was still plenty of room, but I had all I needed, so, while wonder whether I had just wasted my time, I closed the suitcase, placed it on my back, and left my room.


    When I arrived in the gathering room this time, Lemon and Clare were there already, once again sat at the same table. Both had a bag near them, which I let out a small, relieved, internal sigh at the sight of. Clare¡¯s bag seemed big compared to Lemon¡¯s and especially mine, but I figured there was a reason and didn¡¯t think about it much. There was also a spear leaning against the table next to Lemon. Noah was there already as well, sitting in the back of the room as before, a bag smaller than even my suitcase on the table in front of him. I nodded a greeting to Lemon and Clare, who turned to look at me when I walked in and took a seat at the same spot I had before. Before long, Simon and Syzygy entered as well. Unlike the rest of us who seemed to pack relatively light, Syzygy walked in carrying a box that could likely fit his brother on his back, as well as a more traditional, and reasonably sized, bag in one hand. Simon simply held a quarterstaff.


    I did a quick check to make sure I had everything I was supposed to have, and confirming it was there, settled in to wait for our handler to arrive.

 44 - Leaving Again

    Not a minute after I sat down, our explicitly temporary boss entered the room. He looked over all of us as he walked towards a spot where he could face us all. He had a mound of clothes in his arms, which he ungracefully dropped on the closest table.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll make this short as I don¡¯t want to be here, and you all should be on the road as soon as possible. Transportation should be ready outside the west gate. There will be two carriages; how you split yourselves amongst them is up to you. You aren¡¯t expected for a few days yet, however arriving early would reflect positively on the Church, so try not to stop for too long too often. Additionally, I¡¯ve brought your robes. You are expected to wear these in public at all times. Finally, on your mission, always keep in the back of your mind that your actions will reflect directly on the Church; do not forget that decades of training are required until one is trusted enough to become an Adjudicator, and that you are expected to fill that role, albeit crudely, without any of it; do not forget the main purpose of an Adjudicator is to protect the people.¡±


    Immediately after he finished speaking, he started walking out of the room, but before he could reach the door, the robot, Syzygy, tossed out a question I had been considering asking myself.


    ¡°Is there anything more about the present situation in Bervil we should know about? Anything that may make our job more difficult?¡±


    The handler stopped walking briefly, looking at the figure of the metal man that towered over him with something approaching a glare.


    ¡°Everything that has been deemed important enough for you to know is in the material you already have. Beyond that, figure it out yourselves when you get there.¡±


    He then left with a faster pace than before, not repeating his mistake.


    Soon after he left, Simon looked over all of us and smirked.


    ¡°What¡¯s his problem?¡±


    I chuckled, and Syzygy made a strange low pitched humming noise, which I assumed was his way of doing the same, but we were the only two who seemed to find it amusing. Oddly, Lemon was staring intently at the doorway our handler had just left through.


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt him when he says he doesn¡¯t want to be here, but there was something in that I don¡¯t trust. Then again, he could just be an asshole, which seems likely given our interactions with him, but it seemed like he was choosing his words carefully.¡±


    Lemon then sighed and stood up, picking up his bag.


    ¡°We still have a job to do, so let¡¯s get moving. I¡¯ll think on it more along the way.¡±


    He threw his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his spear, and started walking for the door, but not even two steps later, Syzygy stepped forward, gesturing for Lemon to stop.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget the robes.¡±


    ¡°Ah, fuck, right. Man, I hate jobs that make you wear a uniform.¡±


    He took his bag off his shoulder again, setting both it and his spear on the nearest table, before walking over to the mound of robes. He started sorting through them, quickly deciding to spread them out across the table. There were five in total, all the same size except for one which was considerably larger. They were a plain gray, with all of the edges turned out and sewn down, revealing a silver interior. The design was much simpler than the robes of the other Church members I had seen


    ¡°Big one¡¯s for the big guy, I assume. Everyone grab a robe before you head out.¡±


    He picked up a robe and put it on. It fit perfectly and seemed to magically seal itself around him. He shot a look at Claire briefly, the meaning of which I assume had something to do with her already having a robe, before walking back towards his bag and spear, picking them up, and making his way out of the room. Once he neared the door, the rest of us moved to collect our robes, soon following him out of the room. The robes themselves appeared to be made of two pieces of fabric stitched together, those being a tougher, grey outer layer, and a softer, silvery inner layer. It was fairly heavy and felt thick but was surprisingly comfortable. The sleeves came just past my wrists, and the body of it ended just high enough to not restrict movement or get dirty easily. They were also hooded, unlike the rest of the Church robes.


    The six of us, looking like a mother goose and her goslings, made our way to the west gate of the city. The whole way there, we drew looks from almost all the passersby; person after person, I watched their gazes pass over us, taking extra time on Syzygy and Claire, before making some expression of surprise or confusion and going on their way. Apart from that, the walk was uneventful. Even the guards at the west gate let us through with hardly a glance at us. Granted, the rules were likely less strict with exiting than entering, but six people, each with a travel bag, could hide a fairly large number of stolen items, which made me expect a search at the least.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Upon leaving the safety of the city walls, there was an immediate change in the weather and lighting. The ever-overcast sky was back, although we were spared the typical drizzle. The washed out, mostly grey colors of the world were incredibly jarring having gotten used to the soft golden glow of the City of Twilight. There was something else odd about the scene I couldn¡¯t place immediately. Everything looked just a little unnatural. As we walked, I kept observing our surroundings until I realized what was causing this feeling. There were next to no shadows, something which was in stark contrast to the long, exaggerated shadows within the Capital.


    Unlike the north gate, the exterior of the west gate was comprised of a handful of large, warehouse-esque buildings. Given the large barn doors on each, many of which were left open, it was clear these were the stables of the city. The stable buildings lined either side of the street extending from the wall, with the width of the street being roughly triple the width of the gate. Further up the street were two carriages, each preceded by two strange creatures.


    They were massive-bodied animals with six legs about the same length as a human¡¯s, but thicker and structured differently. They ended in strange hooves that splayed out somewhat under the likely immense weight of the creature but would contract once the limb was lifted. The body of the animal resembled a barrel, but with extra masses of muscle above each leg and around the shoulders, from which briefly extended a neck like a tree stump connected to a head like an anvil. Two thick, curved horns extended from either side of the animal¡¯s head, wrapping forward and down, protecting its face. Even from a distance, I could tell they would stand higher than average human; truly, they were terrible creatures.


    As we got closer and awe started wearing off, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder where such beasts could hail from. There were only two types of animals that could exist in this beast-ridden world: those that were fast and those that were strong. These things seemed to occupy both groups, but I couldn¡¯t help but wonder about the environment where these things would fit in.


    Once we passed through the gate, we spread out of the single-file line we had been in, allowing me to check everyone¡¯s reactions, but I was underwhelmed; they all seemed completely unfazed. My observations didn¡¯t go unnoticed by Lemon, who smirked at my amazement.


    ¡°Never seen a cow before, Slate?¡±


    ¡°Cow? What kind of cows have you been around?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®what kind of cows¡¯? There¡¯s only this kind.¡±


    The smirk never left his face as he spoke, not until Syzygy decided to chime in.


    ¡°No, Lemon, those are Wizonen, not cows.¡±


    Lemon tsked and looked away.


    ¡°Ach, you¡¯re no fun. Perfect opportunity to prank the newbie and you throw it away.¡±


    There was a second of awkward silence before Syzygy, with a cold voice, free of any emotion, spoke again.


    ¡°Lemon, I seem to recall there being some rather serious complaints about you hazing your team members in the past. I also believe you had been told, in no uncertain terms, that your behavior was to change if you wanted to remain a team leader.¡±


    Lemon¡¯s face immediately went cold.


    ¡°Those complaints were exaggerated; they were just a bunch of fuckin¡¯ runts who¡¯d never seen a real fight or done any real training. Coddled their whole damn lives, and the minute someone actually steps in and tries to set them straight, they break chain and go crying to daddy to have the Big Scary Team Leader punished for doing nothing but his fucking job.¡±


    There was a boiling rage behind his almost monotone rant. Silence once more descended over the group, no one knowing what to say, nor if there was anything to say.


    ¡°If you say so.¡±


    The exchange between Lemon and Syzygy finished, we travelled the remaining distance to the carriages in silence.


    There was a stable hand at the carriages to help us load our bags, not that it was particularly necessary. Lemon and Claire took one carriage and Simon and Syzygy took the other, which was expected. I looked at Noah, silently asking him which carriage he¡¯d rather ride in. Our eyes met, he looked over both carriages briefly, and then ultimately made his way to the brothers¡¯ carriage while I made my way to the other. Once we were all loaded, the stable hand got our attention.


    ¡°There is food for the animals tucked in the compartment at the front of either carriage. They are to be fed thrice a day, sunrise, early afternoon, and midnight. They will stop when they grow hungry and when they reach crossroads. It is your responsibility to instruct them which roads to take. This is as simple as pointing to which road they are travelling and ensuring they see you. Each point should be marked, however if the signs are damaged, just keep them going roughly north past the first right turn and you should get to Bervil on time. You all, personally, will be fined heavily if the animals do not arrive in roughly the same condition they are in now. Now, if you all are ready, I will give them the signal to get moving.¡±


    The stable hand looked between each carriage for a few seconds before walking between them. Past this point, I lost vision of them, but soon there was a hard jolt, and we were off. We moved much faster than I expected, quickly passing the stable hand, and quickly drawing away from the stables. Before long, they could easily be covered by a single finger.


    As I watched the city grow smaller and smaller behind us, I looked towards the sky. The rippling, light gray clouds sheltered the sky behind them from view. Judging by the quality of the light what found its way through the clouds, it was late morning. As the city faded from view, I thought of the market and what had occurred there. I thought once more about what Vulper said and prayed internally that this trip would be free of any major conflict. I then turned to Lemon to share Vulper¡¯s words.

 45 - Chasing Uncertainty

    The carriages were big enough for four people to sit in relatively comfortably, six uncomfortably. There were benches along either side with some room for luggage underneath, although there was also a storage space underneath the carriage. I was sitting next to Clare, both of us more-or-less against the walls of the carriage. Lemon sat in the middle of the bench opposite us, resting his head against the wall with his eyes closed. Clare seemed to be staring blankly ahead, although she could¡¯ve been looking anywhere for all I knew. The ride was relatively stable, with the occasional bump and jostle, but not so much as to be particularly unbearable.


    I watched the road run away from us as I pieced together what to say to Lemon. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I really didn¡¯t have much to say. All I knew was that the situation was tense. There wasn¡¯t, as far as I was aware, any active conflict, only a real possibility that something could break out, although when put like that, I didn¡¯t think Lemon would think anything of it; the possibility of conflict was always present, meaning I had to phrase things such that they¡¯d convince him of the volatility of the situation. There was also the fact that I wasn¡¯t sure if I should bring up where I got the information from. Whether or not Vulper would be alright with me name dropping him, I didn¡¯t know, but it was also a gamble whether I¡¯d be believed if I did name drop him. I decided to offer a warped version of events and hope for the best.


    ¡°There¡¯s something bothering me.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    I turned to face Lemon, who slowly opened his eyes and looked at me seriously.


    ¡°I wandered out to the market after our spar, and I overheard someone telling his wife about the situation in Bervil.¡±


    ¡°Oh? I¡¯m surprised someone who could freely move between cities would be at the Dawn Market. What did you hear?¡±


    The seriousness in his expression never waned, but a nagging voice in the back of my mind told me he already suspected I was lying.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember the exact wording, but he said something about the families supporting the Church in the city being weaker in recent years. Apparently, the opposing groups are starting to put pressure on them.¡±


    Lemon raised an eyebrow but then his expression turned neutral, and he once again put his head back and closed his eyes.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it. The Church families have far more strength hidden than the public knows about. Even if they don¡¯t have the manpower they once did, they aren¡¯t at risk.¡±


    The swiftness of his rebuttal made me question whether to keep pushing the point or just wait and hope he would put it together on his own. Before I could speak again, Clare spoke up, her demeanor staying completely disinterested.


    ¡°I believe there is more to Slate¡¯s words than you have realized.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah? And what¡¯s that?¡±


    He opened his eyes and looked at me seriously again, but there was a sparkling curiosity behind his eyes this time that stood at odds with his gruff exterior.


    ¡°The man didn¡¯t seem to be particularly high class, but he didn¡¯t seem to be uninvolved in the world either. If his observation is the opinion of the opposition groups, there could be a building tension in the city that could cause us problems. Especially so, I think, if it¡¯s the opinion of the subordinates of the groups; if they¡¯re more willing to take action in spite of the Church, however ill-advised or misguided, they¡¯d be decreasing people¡¯s confidence in the Church, which may lead to us not receiving the warmest of welcomes.¡±


    Lemon¡¯s eyes drifted out to the landscape passing behind the carriage as he thought.


    ¡°That, or we may be in for a fight if they think the lack of an Adjudicator means they can run rampant.¡±


    ¡°Or that.¡±


    ¡°Or both.¡±


    ¡°Or both.¡±


    ¡°Did this man mention specific groups or families?¡±


    ¡°I think so, but I didn¡¯t recognize the names, so I don¡¯t remember them.¡±


    ¡°I think I know which ones it would be anyway, but the confirmation would¡¯ve been nice. Regardless, that does fit with my suspicions about why Bossman was being so evasive.¡±


    ¡°How so? If they had more information, especially information that could lead to problems in our mission, why wouldn¡¯t they tell us?¡±


    He turned back towards me.


    ¡°There are two answers to that question. The first is that it doesn¡¯t matter. What matters is that they didn¡¯t tell us, and while they probably had a reason, it ultimately doesn¡¯t matter since the result is the same. The second answer is that they wanted to see how we¡¯d handle the problem.¡±


    ¡°Why increase our chances of failing and making the Church look bad?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s most likely a fallback option.¡±


    He paused after he said this and his eyes drifted to Clare for a second before drifting back to me.


    ¡°Realistically, though, they likely wouldn¡¯t make a move until they had a good measure of our strength, which delays their actions a day or two, which gives them a fairly short window to do something before the next Adjudicator shows up, who¡¯d be able to deal with whatever problems were left over. Although, I suppose waiting is the smart thing to do. They may take some sort of action immediately upon realizing the city is without an adjudicator.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°So, what do we do?¡±


    ¡°Hope for the best; expect the worse. Nothing else we can do. They¡¯ll do whatever they do, and we¡¯ll have what we have to respond to it. I¡¯ll share this with the others when we stop, and we¡¯ll discuss a plan the last stop before we arrive. Also, Slate, be sure to thank the man you overheard for this information.¡±


    He smirked as he said the last part, and I knew instantly, he had seen through me.


    Minutes turned to hours as the world passed around us. It seemed the area west of the capital was nothing but farmland. Where there were hills, tilled soil covered them until about halfway down; where it was flat, there were large ponds with crops growing in dirt-filled, covered baskets that floated in tight, even rows in the ponds. The cover on the baskets were conical, sloping upwards to the middle, with a ever-burning light nestled inside of them. These crops would grow slowly, but it was better than not growing at all, as they would¡¯ve had they been planted in the soil.


    The road we were on was covered in a short, sturdy-looking grass, clearly intentionally planted. Most of the main roads were made like this, as the roots of the grass would hold the soil together well enough against the constant rain, provided the traffic over it was kept light. Additionally, the grass had the ability to self-propagate rather quickly and effectively, essentially making the roads self-repairing, while the roots were also far reaching, both down and out, which greatly assisted in holding the road together, although I had come across some accounts in my time perusing the library of some farmers complaining about their fields being taken over by the grass. This was an issue given that the soil needed to be completely plowed to kill the grass, which drastically lowered the already low soil quality. The solution they found for this was to use the magic of a particular family to poison the soil in a strip on either side of the road.


    The process of doing this for all the main roads took years. For one, the family with the ability to do this was small, but what made it truly take time was that it was an unconventional use of their magic. The ability of this family was to accelerate and control plant growth, but it wasn¡¯t magic that could permanently affect plants, hence why they couldn¡¯t outright deal with the problem. The solution was to place a type of mold, in other words a fungus, that had the effect of poisoning everything around it, into the soil at set intervals, and forcing it to grow out to a certain point to stop the grass from spreading. Being a fungus and not a plant, the majority of the family had no control over its growth, with only a single branch being able to do so.


    The mold itself was rumored to be a bioweapon to kill fields without the flashiness of fire, and while not confirmed, there was a rather large amount of evidence which made it seem possible. For one, the family had been a great help shortly after the establishment of the Church, being directly responsible for ensuring a stable food supply for the last two millennia, however they hadn¡¯t contributed much beyond that, hence their small numbers in the following centuries during the road problems. They weren¡¯t asked to help propagate the grass on the roads, which some theorized caused them to want to develop a sort of mutually assured destruction tactic in case they were ever directly threatened.


    Alternatively, some offered the idea that they had been commissioned to create it, but it fell short of what they intended it to be, so they instead offered it up as a solution when the relevant problem arose. It of course begs the question of who commissioned it and why. Funnily, no one seemed to disagree that someone would commission something like that, they just couldn¡¯t agree on who.


    The option that seemed most plausible to me though, was that the Church had foreseen the issue and tasked the family with designing something to deal with it; fight fire with fire, so to speak. Even in my limited experience with the people of the Church, the Pope especially, they never struck me as people so shortsighted as to throw away anything without an immediate purpose. The family, by all accounts, was supportive of the Church, and had been through their history, leading me to think the rumors were nothing more than that.


    Recalling what I could about the scenery, I watched the light grow brighter and softer while the air grew slightly warmer. It was midday. As the air began to warm, the smell of rain intensified, although whether we were following a storm or running from one, I wasn¡¯t sure. We¡¯d be sheltered from the rain, and I assumed the Wizonen would be fine with it since the stable hand didn¡¯t warn us about it, but rain always seemed to increase the chance of things going wrong.


    The carriages slowed to a stop while I was praying against the rain. We all took the opportunity to stretch our legs while Lemon and Clare took charge of feeding the animals. As we had been told, the road here split. One road twisted north, one continued straight west, while another continued west-southwest. There was a wooden post driven into the nexus of the roads with four arrows on it, each pointing down a different road and towards their respective cities.


    Noah, the brothers, and I stood behind the carriages while we waited. Simon seemed to have started on another project while he was travelling and was still fiddling with something while he stood there. I caught a few glimpses of the inside of their carriage, seeing they had, somehow, set up a table in the middle of it, and that there were various pieces and parts strewn about. I got the feeling the big box Syzygy had been carrying was full of these sorts of miscellaneous things, rather than anything actually useful. Every now and then, Simon would dip back into the carriage to swipe something off the ground, only to later throw something back into it indiscriminately later.


    After a few minutes of waiting Clare and Lemon returned. Lemon looked at me before starting to speak.


    ¡°Before we get going, I have something we need to discuss quickly.¡±


    He waited a bit until everyone was listening.


    ¡°Slate here shared some important information. Apparently, the situation in Bervil is somewhat tense at the moment. The groups in opposition to the Church are growing in confidence in response to a slight decline in the apparent power of the Church families. All we know for sure is that tensions are growing, however it is possible, and the more I think about it, likely that the lack of an Adjudicator may spark some action. As for what that means for us, well, just be prepared for anything.¡±


    ¡°Is this the hidden meaning you suspected behind the words of our handler?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking, yes. My assumption at the moment is that they wanted to see how we responded to an unexpected, hectic situation. That said, the human element is always unpredictable. It might legitimately just be an oversight because the Pope¡¯s a spaz and our handler had something else on his mind while he was talking to us. Time will tell.¡±


    ¡°Please refrain from directly insulting the most revered person in our society.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯ever met the guy? You can¡¯t tell me I¡¯m wrong.¡±


    ¡°Clare, help me.¡±


    ¡°Lemon, Syzygy has a point. You know there are eyes and ears everywhere. You can never know what will find its way to his ears, or from where.¡±


    ¡°I miss the days where I didn¡¯t need this job¡­. In any case, everyone think of what our best course of action will be when we arrive, and we¡¯ll discuss it when we stop at midnight.¡±


    The four of us actively listening gave nods of understanding, and the six of us returned to our carriages. Before he got in, Lemon stood at the back of the carriage, one foot in it and facing forward, and whistled to the Wizonen. Almost before he could get into the carriage properly, there was a strong jerk, and the carriages once again continued moving at a brisk pace.

 46 - Never Simple

    The light outside the carriage grew softer as early afternoon transitioned to midafternoon. The boredom was setting in, and I was doing my best to not dread the remainder of the trip. The two people sitting with me hadn¡¯t said anything in hours and seemed content to stay that way. Occasionally, a question for one of them would float through my mind, but the notion that they didn¡¯t want to be disturbed always followed. At some point, the even, structured fields we had been moving through transitioned to unmanaged plains, with the occasional small farm or side road scattered around. There were trees growing here and there too, often clusters standing in the middle of an otherwise empty area.


    The people living out here were either very confident in their survival skills or simply had no other choice. They were an hour¡¯s walk at least from any of their neighbors, if you could call them that, and about a day¡¯s walk away from the city. If they needed help, they¡¯d be in a tough spot, and if a wave managed to break through, the only thing they could do was hope they went unnoticed. They also didn¡¯t have access to the same technology the more established farmers had, and they had trouble growing anything, often barely harvesting the minimum of what would allow them to live to the next harvest. There were some animals, small things, borrowers, birds, but they were hard to catch and would hardly constitute a meal.


    Life here was lonely and harsh. Rarely would someone exiled here have the opportunity to take someone with them, and those who chose to come out here usually didn¡¯t have anyone they¡¯d even want to come with them. The almost completely barren plains left the wind unobstructed, leading to a fairly constant hammering that would leech the heat out of buildings and could turn rain into shards of glass. Even as we traveled, I could hear the wind occasionally whistle past the corners of the carriage. We stayed warm in spite of it, though. It wasn¡¯t raining strongly, the carriage was well insulated, and our robes kept out whatever cold was left.


    Thinking about the robes again, I realized that I had thrown mine over my sword. I did a quick test to see how quickly I could get to it and found that, so long as I didn¡¯t fumble on opening the front of the robes, I could get to it fairly easily. It wouldn¡¯t be as fast as it would be if it was on the outside, and there was a chance of slicing open the robe when I pulled the sword out, but it wasn¡¯t going to be an active detriment.


    I pulled out the sword and placed it on my lap, intending to try to figure out how to control it. As soon as the sword left the concealment of the robes, I noticed Clare¡¯s head snap around to look at it. Her face remained placid, and she said nothing, but she continued to stare at the sword. Granted, I couldn¡¯t see her eyes, however it was the only thing that made sense. I thought back to when I first discovered the sword and the intense feeling of sadness and loss that surrounded it, and while I no longer noticed it, it was clear the capability to produce such feelings was still there, and I assumed Clare had noticed that in some way. After all, I was confident I was the least capable person on this team, and her apparent blindness made me think she had several cards hidden yet.


    With the sword on my lap, I held my hand just over the hilt, willing it to rise. Nothing happened. I changed the mental command a few times, each time trying for about a minute before moving on, but the sword remained unmoved. As this went on, I resorted to muttering commands under my breath, but if the sword could indeed heed my commands, it must have decided through unknown criteria that I was not worthy of commanding it, and I could only hope that would change in time.


    As I was about to give up, a soft voice drifted over.


    ¡°If it is unwilling, it is unwilling.¡±


    I looked at Clare, who was still staring at the sword.


    ¡°I¡¯d like it to be willing, though.¡±


    ¡°Things are not so simple. That sword is¡­ strange. It reminds me of certain weapons of the Church¡¯s make I¡¯ve seen, yet the energy flowing through and around it is of a vastly different nature.¡±


    ¡°Energy?¡±


    ¡°It is¡­ a difficult thing to describe to those who cannot experience it for themselves. Do you know of the weapons made by the Church¡¯s smiths?¡±


    ¡°I know of them, but I¡¯ve never seen one in person¡­. Unless the guards¡¯ weapons are of the same make.¡±


    ¡°They are similar, yes; made by the same people, but of a vastly lower quality. Regardless, the real weapons they create abound with a vibrant, flowing energy. It resonates with the user¡¯s own magic and amplifies it to a point where it is shocking the weapons themselves don¡¯t shatter. The energy in your sword¡­ is not that, yet it is somehow similar. The energy in it feels much more refined, cold.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    I could tell Lemon was listening to this since his expression changed slightly when Clare started talking, but at that comment, he stopped pretending to sleep and looked at her with rapt attention.


    ¡°The weapons the Church makes are pure souls, bursting with enthusiasm and eagerness for combat. In many cases, they get stronger during the course of a drawn out fight due to the resonance with their wielder increasing.¡±


    ¡°Bloodthirsty?¡±


    ¡°That is one interpretation, yes. Regardless, this sword lacks that quality, and I¡¯m not sure whether that means it is of lower or higher quality.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean for me?¡±


    ¡°If I had to guess, it means the strength of the sword will be static; as it is now is as it will be forever. The quality of the energy in it likely has the property of retaining the quality of the sword, although that is just my own theory. Stable magic tends to lead to greater longevity. Ultimately, it will be up to you to best leverage the quality of the sword.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    There was a moment of silence before Lemon asked a question.


    ¡°Where did you even find that? Did you trade a favor to some powerful or mysterious figure?¡±


    ¡°I just found it in the ruins of my towns smithy.¡±


    Clare, who had been staring off into the space above the carriage, tuned back into the conversation.


    ¡°Ruins?¡±


    ¡°A wave came through the town and the smithy was leveled. My old sword broke killing the Lure leading the wave, I think, so I wanted to get a new one before we left for the capital.¡±


    The two of them looked at each other for a second before Lemon turned back to me.


    ¡°You killed a Lure? With a sword?¡±


    ¡°Um, yes?¡±


    ¡°Who else was there?¡±


    ¡°It was Erin, Owl, and Noah, actually, at the time. I forget he was there sometimes. They didn¡¯t help much though, left me to die, effectively.¡±


    Lemon looked at me for a moment with an incredulous expression.


    ¡°Well, shit. I guess I know why he wanted you on this team then.¡±


    ¡°Sorry for us barraging you with questions Slate, but I want to clarify, you said Owl, Erin, the daughter of a Hero, and Noah were there and couldn¡¯t stop a wave only led by a Lure?¡±


    ¡°Well, Noah showed up with the cleaners. Someone they called Bear was also there, but he was at the fort when the wave hit, and didn¡¯t get back to the town until after the wave had come through.¡±


    The two of them once again looked at each other with expressions I couldn¡¯t quite place.


    ¡°Was the ¡®someone they called Bear¡¯ a mountain of a man that barely spoke?¡±


    ¡°Oh, is he also a Hero?¡±


    It felt like everything I said caused the two of them a large amount of internal pain.


    ¡°Was the sword any different when you found it?¡±


    ¡°Physically? No, but there was a¡­ I guess a field, for lack of a better term, of sadness and regret around it.¡±


    ¡°It was so strong even you could feel it?¡±


    ¡°I could almost see it, actually.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ is interesting.¡±


    Lemon and Clare fell into silent thought. As we spoke, the sun had started to go down. It had started getting dark, but the type of dark where one had to do a double take at every shape to discern its true nature.


    ¡°Slate, may I see your sword for a minute?¡±


    I looked at Clare and nodded while handing the sword over.


    ¡°Careful, it¡¯s sharp.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d hope so.¡±


    She took it gingerly in just the tips of her fingers. She looked at it silently for a moment before turning back to me.


    ¡°Actually, can you hold the hilt?¡±


    I took it, keeping the tip pointed at her. She then reached out and placed a finger on the flat of the blade just below the tip. After a moment, her finger began to emanate a soft, pale gold glow. Oddly, when she started doing this, Lemon started watching with a strange amount of enthusiasm. It was strange to me, since as far as I could tell, nothing was happening. After about a minute of this, the strength of the glow increased; another minute passed, and the glow grew stronger. The sword had no reaction, and I wasn¡¯t sure if it was supposed to or not.


    More time passed and the strength of the light stepped up and up until the inside of the carriage was completely illuminated. At that point, it hurt to look at but had stopped getting brighter. It stayed at the same strength for a few minutes while we all watched in silence. Nothing changed in the sword even as the light faded, leaving us in darkness. The sun had set at some point during this, and with our eyes adjusted to the light, it felt especially dark.


    After a few seconds, a soft light appeared in the space in front of Clare and floated to the ceiling of the carriage. It was dim; the light was just enough to see each other with, but it wouldn¡¯t take long for our eyes to adjust to the darkness outside.


    I set the sword in my lap while I waited for one of them to explain what had happened. Lemon was staring at the sword with a strange look while Clare once again was staring at the opposite wall of the carriage. I ran my fingers along the length of the sword, feeling for any changes, but there was nothing. I assumed the light wasn¡¯t just for show, but I couldn¡¯t determine what she had done through just the sword, and it seemed no explanation was forthcoming.


    ¡°Do either of you want to explain what that was?¡±


    There was more silence as Lemon looked between me and the sword.


    ¡°Clare, I¡¯m going to have you take this one. You can explain the significance better than I can.¡±


    There was more silence as Clare continued to stare into space. As I was about to speak up, she took a breath and opened her mouth.


    ¡°I have no idea what that sword is.¡±

 47 - Hidden Strength

    I didn¡¯t exactly know the significance of what Clare had just said, but judging by the serious expression on Lemon¡¯s face, those few words must¡¯ve held some serious weight.


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    The two of us started questioning Clare almost in unison. She didn¡¯t react, but after a moment of silence, started explaining further.


    ¡°Lemon, I suspect you know most of what I was doing, but I¡¯ll explain for you, Slate. Originally, I was putting my magic into the sword to explore it from the inside to attempt to determine its nature further. With the Church¡¯s weapons, when you attempt to do that, they always react strongly, usually trying to rewrite and absorb the magic into themselves. Because of that, if you can dump enough magic into them fast enough, you can actually destroy them. Keep the magic low strength though, and you can discern the nature of the sword, both its specific attitude and how it will amplify the user¡¯s strength.¡±


    When she paused to breathe, Lemon jumped in.


    ¡°I want to make something clear. When she says ¡®you can destroy the weapons¡¯, she means that she can destroy them, or others with her magic power. Destroying anything made by the smiths of the Church is damn-near impossible, and depending on how it¡¯s done, can have catastrophic consequences due to the sheer amount of energy released in the instant of destruction.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s somewhat of an exaggeration. The energy required to actually destroy one of those weapons in that matter would leave the person completely drained and vulnerable to the wielder, who had to be strong enough to be given a weapon in the first place. That aside, as I tried to discern the nature of the sword, I felt no resistance. I could sense a magic flow within the sword, but when I attempted to pry into it, there was nothing, just like a typical, lifeless, lump of iron. I increased the magic I was putting into it to have an easier time searching, but there was still nothing. At that point, I noticed the other odd thing. If it were to behave like a non-magical sword, or even a magic one to a certain extent, it would begin to heat up as the energy dissipated into it, but it never did. No matter how much energy I dumped into it, it didn¡¯t heat up or resist in the slightest. It felt like tossing a candle into a bottomless hole. I have to suspect the energy is still in the sword, but the amount it would have to have stored would be enough kill a rather strong beast.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any idea who could¡¯ve made it?¡±


    ¡°No, and nor do I know what it could be made out of.¡±


    As soon as she finished, the carriages started slowing down, stopping awhile later.


    ¡°Right after sunset. Those things have their shit together. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Slate, you go with him this time. I want some time to think.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    I returned my sword to its place on my hip before following Lemon out of the carriage and towards the animals. It took a bit for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and when they did, I noticed we had stopped in a burnt, barren landscape. Unlike the untamed grasslands we had been surrounded by for the last few hours, this area had been cut down and scorched. What trees there were had all the leaves burnt off and the bark left blackened and cracked.


    ¡°What happened here?¡±


    ¡°Lightning probably started a wildfire.¡±


    ¡°Even with it being so wet?¡±


    ¡°Lightning is a hell of a thing. Heard a story of a guy who got hit once. He was tending a field out here when the sky decided to unleash its wrath on him. When the neighbors decided to check in after not hearing from him for a while, they found a half-charred corpse and scorched earth around it. The area he was in was mostly dirt, so it didn¡¯t start a fire, but man is that a shitty way to go.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    We reached the front of the carriages and Lemon opened up a panel near where the ropes connecting the Wizonen to the carriage were connected. He produced a somewhat large bag and started walking towards the animals¡¯ heads. I walked over to the other carriage and repeated his actions. As I walked towards the animals, I opened the bag to see what we were feeding them and was surprised to see it looked like some type of meat jerky.


    ¡°These things are carnivores?¡±


    ¡°Omnivores, I think. Meat doesn¡¯t get moldy when wet as easily as the plant food does, and they seem to enjoy it, so just don¡¯t think about it too much.¡±


    I stood in front of the two Wizonen who looked at me with curiosity. I started pulling pieces of meat out of the bag, alternating which one I gave it to, which was what I had seen Lemon doing. They were fairly flat-faced animals, so I had to put my hands uncomfortably close in order to feed them. Overall though, they seemed to be fairly gentle creatures, and it struck me as I fed them that they must¡¯ve been smart enough to realize that, since I had their food, I meant them no harm.


    ¡°Shit. We have trouble.¡±


    As I emptied the bag I held, Lemon¡¯s warning reached my ears. I turned to see three people approaching down the road in front of us.


    ¡°Here, take my bag and put it back. I¡¯m going to go make sure they aren¡¯t about to try something stupid.¡±


    I nodded and took his bag. I walked quickly back to the carriages and put the now empty bags back in the same compartments we had pulled them from, closing the compartments while watching the scene unfolding up the road. Nothing had happened yet, but I had the feeling that it wouldn¡¯t last. Closing the second compartment, it struck me that Lemon hadn¡¯t grabbed his spear before leaving, and while I wasn¡¯t concerned given his hand-to-hand ability, I decided to grab it before joining him. With a final glance, I turned and quickly walked back to the carriage, entering quickly.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Three people appeared on the road. Lemon¡¯s talking to them now. Nothing has happened yet, but better safe than sorry.¡±


    ¡°Slate, please do your best to make sure no one dies.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan.¡±


    With a quick nod, which I only realized after the fact she couldn¡¯t see, I left the carriage again, spear in hand.


    The spear was oddly heavy. The shaft was black, which I had assumed to be wood that was charred for water resistance, but was likely some type of metal, although it felt coarser than I¡¯d expect for metal. Regardless, I did my best to look unbothered and confident as I walked down the road. As I walked, the rain started coming down harder. The sound of the rain masked their voices until I was fairly close


    ¡°Are you sure you can¡¯t spare anything?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you Church-lot supposed to be generous?¡±


    I decided to stand a bit behind Lemon. In my mind, it was best to keep them thinking Lemon was unarmed. However the situation had developed, my addition changed it, and giving the only drawn weapon up would only raise their suspicion.


    ¡°Ah, great, my vice-captain is here. Would you mind repeating the offer you just gave me?¡±


    The man looked between Lemon and I for a moment, choosing his words carefully. They all wore mud-stained cloaks, slightly tattered around the edges. Their leader¡¯s hood was pulled back enough to allow us to see his face, but still forward enough to block most of the rain. The two behind him had their hoods fully up, completely hiding their faces in the low light. The leader had one sword clearly visible on his hip and another strapped horizontally across his lower back, while the two behind him held halberds.


    ¡°Well, vice-captain, it was less of an offer and more of a humble request for help.¡±


    I gave him a second to continue, but he seemed to have no intention of doing so.


    ¡°What did that request contain?¡±


    His eyes darted between the two of us and the carriages behind us.


    ¡°I simply asked if you all had any food you could spare for myself and my companions here.¡±


    ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°That was all we asked for, I swear.¡±


    ¡°So, he told you no and you should have left, yet you¡¯re still here and he¡¯s annoyed. What else did you ask for?¡±


    ¡°Well, seeing as your captain was unwilling to provide us with something to sustain us, we wondered if he would be willing to spare some money so we could perhaps buy some food from one of the people out here, or from another group such as yours who has more to spare.¡±


    ¡°I see. Captain, remind me, do we have any money with us?¡±


    From his body language and what I could see of his face, I could tell Lemon was becoming increasingly irritated by the situation. I could also tell, however, the man we were talking to was also becoming increasingly agitated, although I couldn¡¯t tell whether he was embarrassed for asking or if he was wracking his brain to see if he could still work the situation to his benefit.


    ¡°No, unless you have any pocket change on you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. Well, since we don¡¯t have any money or food for you, we¡¯d both best be on our way.¡±


    ¡°Wha- wait, please, I¡¯m sure you have something- ah fuck this.¡±


    The man¡¯s hand darted for his sword. I had expected something like this, and the moment I saw his hand move, I stepped forward and drove the spear towards him. It was clumsy, but it was accurate and fast. The strike interrupted his draw as he sidestepped backwards. I was now standing by Lemon¡¯s side, and I quickly handed him his spear before reaching into my robes for my sword. I didn¡¯t draw it immediately, instead waiting to see how they¡¯d respond. Lemon kept his spear leveled at them as well.


    When I had struck, the two people behind the man stepped forward and leveled their halberds at us. Their leader retreated behind them as he drew his sword and was now holding it at a low ready position. We stayed like this, staring at each other unmoving.


    Lemon started speaking softly, quiet enough I could barely hear it over the rain.


    ¡°Slate, I can hold them off for a bit on my own. When I move, run back to the carriages and give the signal to get moving. Clare would be pissed if I killed them, so make it fast.¡±


    ¡°Right. On your move.¡±


    There were another few seconds of silence as I watched Lemon in my periphery. Just as I felt he was about to move, the area around the carriages was illuminated in a bright light. In that moment, I finally got a clear look at the faces of the other two, and a clearer look at the lead man¡¯s face. The thing I noticed first was how their skin seemed to eagerly stick to their bones, and how the light seemed unable to chase some of the shadows off their faces. One of the people behind the man was a woman, the other male, and they seemed even worse off. The three of them had their eyes locked on something behind us, mesmerized.


    After the moment of analyzing our foes, I turned to see the source of the light, only to see Clare walking briskly towards us, radiating light like the long-unseen sun. The light spread around us halfway to the horizon


    ¡°They started it, I swear.¡±


    ¡°Lemon, I don¡¯t care. There are a dozen more on either side of the road and I will not allow this to turn into a bloodbath.¡±


    She was only halfway between us and the carriages, and the rain hadn¡¯t abated, yet I could hear her clearly, as if she was standing right next to me.


    Without another word, she suddenly started floating into the air, rising up the height of a few people. As I watched, her words finally processed in my mind, and I looked at our surroundings. On either side of the road, still a good distance away yet too close for comfort, there was a dozen people lying down, watching us. Their positions suggested they had been crawling forward, trying to stay out of sight while getting close to us. As Clare had said, if they had gotten close enough and ambushed us, we would have had no choice but to fight them off, and I had full confidence in us winning. As that reality set in, Clare started speaking, her voice falling across the charred plains around us.


    ¡°You all should be ashamed. You lot prey on the weak, stealing from those with nothing to give, preying on those you believe to be unable to fight, and for what? To live a life in shame? To make your ancestors regret continuing their bloodline? You may believe you are desperate, yet no matter how little you believe yourselves to have, there are always options that do not involve taking from others, especially those who need it just as much, if not more, than you do. You can go to the fringe towns and volunteer to defend humanity, where you will be given a paycheck and a warm meals; you can volunteer in the cities and the Church will provide you with the basic necessities; you can beg someone for a job; you could even do that which the people you take from do and produce your own field, taking only that which you grow for yourselves and what nutrients from the land that are required. Yet you do this. Your existence is shameful and, as it stands, unfit for continuation. Now, you will let us past and you will swear to yourselves you will cease this cretinous behavior, or I will treat you like the beasts you pose as.¡±


    She waited a few seconds for her words to sink in before descending back to the ground. She looked at us briefly before turning and walking back to the carriages. As she did, the light surrounding her started to fade. Lemon and I watched her leave for a moment before looking at each other, then at the three in front of us who had been stunned into silence.


    ¡°I recommend you do as she says.¡±


    With a final disgusted look, Lemon turned and started walking back toward the carriages, and I followed suit. As we walked, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Lemon had a smirk on his face. I likely would have too if I wasn¡¯t still a bit stunned by what had happened, although thankfully not to the extent of the bandits around us who had yet to move.


    When we made it back to the carriages, we quickly entered, and Lemon gave the signal to the Wizonen to start moving again. We quickly passed the location we had been standing at, seeing that the three who had stopped us were standing at the side of the road, watching us pass them. Before long, they were out of view, and the darkness completely enveloped us, leaving only the sounds of the carriages creaking and the rain falling around us.