ã€ŠInside Us All are Seraphsã€‹


 Chapter 1: Prologue

    It was a cold night, although that perhaps didn¡¯t say much as it was always cold on Aurora Celestis IV. The story snatchers, vulnerable as they were, required their colonies to be freezing and inhospitable to anything that grew. They also converted the skies from blue to dark clouds, flooding the atmosphere with moisture. Perhaps that¡¯s why they were reviled so.

    The streets were dark, as always, only faintly illuminated by halogen lamps on the upper floors. The human, a stark contrast to the surrounding aliens, walked ponderously. There wasn¡¯t a need to hurry, it wasn¡¯t like the night would come and usher in murderers and outcasts. It was always night. Instead the Story Snatchers, the covert guild, would roam, memory hooks and man-catchers at the ready. For the human, avoiding their gaze was as simple as sticking to the illuminated paths and avoiding the alleys.

    The human suddenly stopped outside of a wooden building, a fluorescent sign indicating that the building was a bar. He pushed open the slightly rusty door, causing a screech that the patrons simply ignored. Unlike the human, they were almost all story snatchers. The people. Most of them were tall and lanky with spidery hands gingerly grasping solid metal mugs. One of the patrons looked up at the new arrival, all eight green eyes focusing on the human¡¯s face. The patron¡¯s face was unremarkable for a story snatcher, with large chelicerae and a pastel blue shell. Its left arm (the primary left arm, rather than the left hind-arm attached to its back) was gone. A stump with blackened flesh and an ash-like powder that flaked off with each minor movement took its place.

    Arriving at the counter, a fat (if the term could even be correctly used) story snatcher gazed at the human. It spoke in a gurgling voice, clearly unaccustomed to speaking English. ¡°What can I,¡± a brief gurgle, ¡°get you?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The human spoke in a relaxed, slightly rough voice that came with being a spacer.

    ¡°Hmmm, could I take a Ruby Wyvern¡¯s Spit?¡±

    ¡°¡®Course.¡±

    Within seconds the fat bartender had created a Ruby Wyvern¡¯s Spit, a drink made from the venom of a Ruby Wyvern and the blood of various exotic beasts. The venom would add a spicy flavour, although when improperly prepared could kill a man. As the human drank in silence, the strange story snatcher with a missing arm sat beside him.

    ¡°Curious choice of beverage you have there,¡±the spider-person spoke in a decent accent, with only slight clicks marring its speech.

    ¡°What of it?¡±

    ¡°Stories. They are banned here, extracted from the mind of those who speak them. Your choice of drink tells me a story, so I shall tell you one of mine. Before it¡¯s gone forever.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to hear the tale of some fucking drunk, I came hear to become said drunk.¡± The human was becoming exasperated.

    ¡°Suit yourself. But you, over there, would you care to listen?¡±

    You look up from your cup to the story snatcher, unsure as to whether or not it would be worth your time to talk with drunks. Perhaps, you think, it might be worth hearing it out. At the very least the story of how it lost its arm might get a chuckle out of you.

    ¡°Sure,¡± you say to the spider. ¡°I was a tale-teller before coming here you know. I assure you this will be worth your time. For the sake of this story, the person I will speak of is named Al¡¯Corvo. Let us begin, shall we?¡±

 Chapter 2: Ghostly Union

    Al¡¯Corvo was dangling by a single thread. Unlike the workers of old, the threads were made of steel, and much thicker than silk. His chitin-covered hands were mere centimetres from a sparking pylon that crackled with thousands of volts. Only centimetres from instant death. At least he was anchored safely in the massive rock wall behind the pylon.

    He sighed, muttering under his breath about poor maintenance schedules.

    ¡°Oi Il¡¯Shar, why haven¡¯t you turned this pylon off!¡± Al¡¯Corvo shouted to the slim figure beneath him, still fiddling with the controls.

    ¡°Because the Wards haven¡¯t gotten here yet!¡± clicks of exasperation filled Il¡¯Shar¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Well this pylon isn¡¯t going to fix itself, there¡¯s way too many volts pumping through this thing. You know what, damn the Wards, turn it off anyway!¡± Al¡¯Corvo had to shout in order for his voice to reach Il¡¯Shar.

    ¡°I could get fired for doing that!¡± Il''Shar shouted back.

    ¡°Well do you want the thing to short-circuit the instant a ghost touches it?¡±

    There was a long pause.

    ¡°Fine. On your own soul be it.¡± Al¡¯Corvo could hear very faintly the loud clicks of antiquated keyboards and the beeping of the positively ancient operating system.

    Suddenly the crackling stopped, only silence and the faint blowing of the wind remaining. For those who never went over the 40 metre grey wall, silence was the sound of danger. With every slightly out of place sound Al¡¯Corvo twitched. His normally steady hands shaking profusely.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Everything is under control. I recommended this. Fuck,¡± Al¡¯Corvo whispered to himself as he unholstered several tools designed to crack open the voltage regulator box. The wall of electrical pylons had to be constantly active to protect against the things beyond the wall. As such, the voltage regulator was securely locked inside of the pylon to avoid either sabotage or damage. The downside being that if the regulator was damaged though, it became much harder to fix.

    Without the pylons, any number of things could phase through the stone wall, ready to devour the sector Al¡¯Corvo was located in. Which is why he had to move quickly.

    ¡°Why did they make this so fucking difficult to open!¡± Al¡¯Corvo groaned through gritted mouth plates, now grasping at the broken regulator with shaking hands.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Oooooh roots above, why didn¡¯t I wait for the Wards. At least this will be fixed-¡± he almost dropped the replacement regulator, ¡°...Soon.¡± Finally, the new regulator was in place. Immediately Al¡¯Corvo began crawling out of the labyrinthine metal poles that acted as support for the pylon.

    ¡°Okay Il¡¯Shar, you can turn the pylon on now!¡± he shouted with relief. But Il¡¯Shar was simply staring at him with a blank look, green eyes suddenly much paler. While at first she looked somewhat normal, Al¡¯Corvo noticed her forehands twitching and spasming, and her fangs were leaking a dark fluid.

    ¡°Shit,¡± He simply said before leaping off the pylon as fast as possible. Swinging back to the alcove which he was anchored to, he was glad he had reacted as soon as he did. A split second more, and Il¡¯Shar, or rather what was left of her, would¡¯ve vaporised him using the now fixed pylon. As quickly as it turned on, the wall of electricity turned off. Al¡¯Corvo quickly began rappelling down a thin channel in the wall, safe from Il¡¯Shar¡¯s attempts to fry him using the electrical wall.

    Once he reached the ground he unfolded his hind-arms, before going on all sixes and sprinting towards the control panel. Knowing how understaffed the Wards were, Al¡¯Corvo could only rely on himself to turn the pylon on.

    As Al¡¯Corvo dashed towards Il¡¯Shar, she slowly turned to face him, spasming and shuddering with every minor movement. The dark liquid from her fangs began flowing with more and more regularity, splashing against the concrete floor. While Al¡¯Corvo wasn¡¯t sure if it was dangerous, anything produced by ghosts was usually unhealthy. Or deadly.

    Fortunately for Al¡¯Corvo, Il¡¯Shar wasn¡¯t particularly fit. A fact that was even more exploitable as ghosts, or at least this one, weren¡¯t particularly capable of fine motor skills. Like fighting, or walking in a straight line. As Al¡¯Corvo dashed towards Il¡¯Shar, he noticed her even trip a few times. But he knew, from horror stories told by off-duty Wards, that even the most clumsy of ghosts could exert great strength. Often at the expense of the host body.

    Al¡¯Corvo barreled into Il¡¯Shar, claws ready to carve out her larger eyes. And carve they did, slashing out Il¡¯Shar¡¯s now milky-white eyes. Any blood that once flowed through her veins was now frozen and sluggish, all energy stolen by the ghost. Not content to simply let Al¡¯Corvo kill its host, Il¡¯Shar slashed at Al¡¯Corvo, cracking several parts of the shell surrounding his torso. Before he could adjust to the sudden blow, Il¡¯Shar¡¯s other arm bashed directly into the left side of his ribcage, shattering the bones of not just Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s ribs, but also Il¡¯Shar¡¯s hand and front arm. Al¡¯Corvo felt his heart-rate spike and dizziness overcame his mind as he went into shock from the devastating wound.

    <hr>

    ¡°Did he just fucking die?¡± You ask the 3-armed story snatcher.

    ¡°No. Our kind have decentralized hearts, the poor bastard was badly injured at worst,¡± The Story-Snatcher calmly explained. ¡°Now hush, you are interrupting the story. Fool.¡±

    <hr>

    Regardless of the heavy wound, Al¡¯Corvo continued to strike against the possessed Il¡¯Shar. At this point only the thought of putting his friend out of her misery was left on Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s shocked mind. Wrapping his right hind-arm around his right front-arm, he slammed both down on Il¡¯Shar¡¯s head with all of his might. Screaming both in both physical and mental pain, he brought his fists on her head again and again, only stopping as blood loss made him fade into unconsciousness.

 Chapter 3: Payment for Services Rendered

    Al¡¯Corvo, and not for the first time, let out a long groan. His ribs felt like they were shattered, his left heart as though it had just had several false-ribs jammed into its pulmonary artery. Perhaps, Al¡¯Corvo thought to himself, because they have, and it did.

    Only a few minutes ago did Al¡¯Corvo wake up, feeling even worse than he did now. At first all he could see was a bright fluorescent light along with sterile white tiles. Looking around he saw several IV drips hooked into his arms. Two were filled with clear liquids he assumed were painkillers, while another hooked into his left hind-arm was filled with a dark crimson liquid. The final IV drip was filled with a neon blue liquid that seemed to pulse with life.

    ¡°Impressive innit?¡± Al¡¯Corvo whipped his head towards the sound, feeling a headache growing, immediately regretting his action. ¡°A tad o¡¯ ectoplasm n¡¯ you¡¯re almost good as new.¡±

    Several groans later, Al¡¯Corvo saw who spoke. Sitting on the opposite side of the room was a heavily armoured story snatcher. Only their head was left uncovered, revealing a slightly flat, yet wide face. Two large chelicerae adorned their face, along with two small upwards facing fangs. Eight lidless green eyes rotated independently of each other, taking in the non-details of the white hospital room. Interestingly, the Ward¡¯s shell was a sandy colour rather than Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s pastel-blue shell. Al¡¯Corvo coughed as he tried to speak.

    ¡°None of that now, yer still recoverin¡¯. Yer quite lucky there was sum ectoplasm nearby.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo coughed, ¡°Where,¡± another cough, ¡°did it come from?¡±

    ¡°Roots, I think yer head got hit a bit too,¡± the Ward stood up and walked over to Al¡¯Corvo, leaning in to look at his head. ¡°Whaddya last ¡®member?¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo closed all eight eyes, groaning in agony again, ¡°Fuck um¡­ Shit, Il¡¯Shar! Is she alright?¡±

    The Ward leaned back, a frown (or frown equivalent) replacing their smirk. ¡°You bashed ¡®er ¡®ead in real good. If it weren¡¯t for ter fact that she was already dead, you¡¯d be in a cell rather than a cushy hospital bed yeah?¡±

    The memories of the last few hours rushed back into Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s head, at the exact moment the next dose of painkillers rushed into his veins. Al¡¯Corvo slowly began drifting back to sleep, but not before hearing the Ward say something.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be seein¡¯ you around Al¡¯Corvo. Names Al¡¯Shor by the way. Rest easy pal, you deserve it.¡± And with that, Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s thoughts went dark.

    <hr>

    Once again Al¡¯Corvo woke up, still lying down in a hospital bed. Looking to either side of his body he noticed his head no longer pounded with every subtle motion. That and all of the IV drips were no longer hooked into his arm, although the bandages were still wrapped tightly around them. He probably wouldn¡¯t be working for a good few days. Slowly rising from the creaking bed, he noticed how grimy the room was, at least in the corners. He noticed some standard-issue Ward clothes neatly folded on a chair next to his bed. Shrugging, he replaced his hospital gown with the heavy woolen clothes.

    Slowly walking to the door, he also noticed that his ribs no longer hurt as much, the pain reduced to a meer light throbbing. Such was the power of ectoplasm, a few litres of the stuff and most fatal injuries would be healed. As Al¡¯Corvo walked into a dimly-lit corridor, he saw countless half-armoured Wards lining the walls, each one with small packs of ectoplasm fed into their wounds. Crushed shells, eyes weeping unknown liquids and other maladies besides. Such minor injuries warranted a day or two in the corridor with a litre or two of ectoplasm. The workers, the spellcasters and, like Al¡¯Corvo, the electricians, were the ones given rooms. While they didn¡¯t leave the wall like Wards and Immunes, they weren¡¯t trained in combat techniques, nor were they given spells to help them survive the times where maintenance went wrong. Al¡¯Corvo was a testament to the damage caused by ghosts.

    Finally Al¡¯Corvo arrived at the reception room, a gloomy room with rows upon rows of seats. Most of them were empty and those that weren¡¯t were frequenters, people with diseases and chronic pains.

    ¡°Al¡¯Corvo is it?¡± Al¡¯Corvo turned to face the receptionist.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I was told that you might be up soon. I am also required to inform you that you have been unconscious for 4 days, and will not be required to work for another 3,¡± the receptionist rummaged through their desk and finally pulled out two plastic trays. One had a blood-pack-shaped packet filled with more vibrant, pulsing blue ectoplasm. The other had a box of pills and a densely packed sheath of papers that indicated that Al¡¯Corvo was free from work.

    ¡°Anyways, use the ectoplasm at night and take one pill if you are still in pain,¡± Al¡¯Corvo reached to take both trays. Popping one of the painkillers, he gave a quick wave to the receptionist before walking into the streets. As he opened the door, a sudden blast of cold air hit him, chilling his shell immediately. After a few more unsteady steps, Al¡¯Corvo began walking towards his home in Sector 8. Unfortunately, sectors weren¡¯t named after when they were arranged. They were named after their size. Not only was Sector 8 aboveground, the hospital, which was a valuable asset in the apocalypse, was in Sector 19 and underground. 19 square kilometres of cold, damp streets. The only thing illuminating the cavern was dull fluorescent lamp posts, with various cables that occasionally sparked. If Al¡¯Corvo wasn¡¯t on leave, it would¡¯ve been his job to fix them.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Despite the dismal atmosphere, hundreds of people rushed to and fro, carrying goods and supplies to various stalls and buildings. Al¡¯Corvo even saw a few people climbing up buildings to resupply the ectoplasm generators, holding large tanks of the stuff in their hind-arms.

    After several bends in the central road, Al¡¯Corvo reached a large shaft with countless story snatchers moving up and down. If, for whatever reason, the pylons or walls fell, this shaft would act as the final defensive measure. Several layers of steel would slam shut, electricity would arc between each layer. Such was the last hope of the story snatchers. Since it was fairly safe, most electricians who were still used to how the old world worked, the world without ectoplasm, would begin working on this shaft. Basic repairs, the trivial stuff.

    Usually Al¡¯Corvo would¡¯ve simply clambered up the shaft like everyone else, but after several days in hospital he didn¡¯t feel up to it. Instead, he walked over to the disability access area, which was several ladders one could use to get to the top. There were even several alcoves one could rest during their ascent/descent.

    The topside of the city of Raqmu was much brighter, both figuratively and literally than the underground. Winters around Raqmu weren¡¯t freezing, though they sometimes produced snow, but no matter what they always covered the sun in an overcast haze. Mist licked at Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s heels as he moved from Sector 7 to Sector 8. Looking to the south, he was glad to see the once-broken pylon crackling with life once more. It seems that the Wards managed to flip the switch and keep more ghosts from flooding the city.

    Although it wasn¡¯t like there weren¡¯t safeguards in place for that possibility as well.

    Finally arriving at his house in Sector 8, Al¡¯Corvo sighed in relief. It had been a long week, what with all the preparations for some big project the higher-ups decided would be a good idea. Unfortunately for Al¡¯Corvo, his apartment was higher up the complex, owing to his status as an electrician. Not that he was actually higher-ranked than the other inhabitants, it¡¯s just that he was better at climbing than most.

    Grunting with the effort, Al¡¯Corvo began the climb up to his apartment, taking every opportunity to rest whenever there was an alcove. The grey steel was cold from the air, making his weary arms tingle in pain whenever he touched the bare walls. His gloves were probably lost after he got knocked out. He would need to buy new ones if he wanted to make it through the winter with functional hands.

    Shaking his cold hands, Al¡¯Corvo saw one of his neighbours hanging some clothes over a slightly rusty balcony rail.

    ¡°Hey Corvo! How¡¯s it going? Where have you been for the past four days? Oo, I bet it was some secret thing to do with the Hope Project right?¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo let out a groan. He didn¡¯t quite hate his neighbour Il¡¯Abna, but sometimes he wished she would shut up. A true gossip she was.

    ¡°Roots above, how many times have I told you Il¡¯Abna? You¡¯re not my damn sister. Use my formal name or don¡¯t use it at all!¡±

    ¡°Aww don¡¯t be like that,¡± her eyes ¡°blinked¡±¡ªfocused and unfocused¡ªa few times as if remembering what she was going to say, ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right, so where were you? Anything you could share about the Hope Project?¡±

    ¡°I wish. No, I was in hospital. Right now I just want to sleep and enjoy my 3 days off.¡±

    ¡°Hope you¡¯re feeling alright. Oh yeah, a Ward came by and told me to hand you these.¡± Il¡¯Abna handed over an envelope with the official Ward crest on the front, but only a broken wax seal remained on the other side.

    ¡°Did¡­ did you seriously¡­ read an official Ward letter? A sealed Ward letter? Did you just do that?¡± Al¡¯Corvo stared at Il¡¯Abna with his jaw open. He was shocked by the absolute gall she had. If he was a more scrupulous individual, he could¡¯ve gotten her locked up for a few months for reading classified documents. Well, technically classified.

    ¡°Hmm, yup! Interesting stuff, didn¡¯t know you could fight off ghosts without an electrical man-catcher. Sorry about Il¡¯Shar by the way, sweet girl she was.¡±

    ¡°Only if you didn¡¯t know her,¡± Al¡¯Corvo grumbled under his breath. He swiped the letter and continued his climb to his apartment.

    A few minutes later, and he finally fumbled his keys out of his pocket. He didn¡¯t know how it got there though, he guessed that maybe the Wards put it in there with his wallet. Opening his door, he beelined straight for his old, worn couch. He didn¡¯t care about the dirty plates that were stacked high in his sink. Those could wait. Looking around his apartment, he realized he could probably do with cleaning the whole thing. Old music cartridges lay scattered around various desks, and one corner of his living room was a tangle of wires and electronics of all sorts. A side-project that was doomed to fail, an attempt at making ghosts easier to kill.

    Opening the envelope, Al¡¯Corvo quickly skimmed over the letter. Most of it was standard commendation stuff, in fact Al¡¯Corvo could see the lines where his name was written in manually. At the end though, Al¡¯Corvo blinked several times, rubbed 4 of his eyes, checked again then rubbed the other 4 eyes.

    ¡°...The recipient of this letter, [AL-CORVO], is hereby recruited into the Wards for [PERMANENT] service. This is due to [AL-CORVO]¡¯s [EXCELLENCE] in the field, and the recipient should be [PROUD] to have the chance to fight [FOR KING AND COUNTRY]. [CONGRATULATIONS], not many have the chance to join the Wards.

    Expect a Ward to [DELIVER FURTHER INFORMATION] on your [SERVICE] within the next [24] [HOURS].¡±

    After confirming that he had indeed just been conscripted into the Wards, Al¡¯Corvo wasn¡¯t quite sure if he should weep for joy or sadness. Being a Ward was noble, when he was a kid they were like superheroes. Now though? The prospect of needing to fight more ghosts made him question his will to live. Rather than continuing to ponder his own existential dread, Al¡¯Corvo simply opted to scream.

    He heard a thump coming from his right, and an angry voice.

    ¡°SHUT THE FUCK UP CORVO OR I SWEAR TO THE FUCKING SERAPHS I WILL THROW YOU OUT THE WALL MYSELF!¡±

    ¡°SORRY CHIH! I JUST GOT CONSCRIPTED INTO THE FUCKING WARDS!¡±

    There was a brief pause.

    ¡°SORRY MATE, CARRY ON THEN!¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo began curling up on his couch, before he heard a knock on his door. A loud, heavy thumping sound that could only really be produced by someone with a gauntlet.

 Chapter 4: We All Lift

    Another volley of knocks slammed against Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s door.

    ¡°I¡¯m coming! Give me a moment will you?¡±

    Rising from his well-worn couch, Al¡¯Corvo opened the metal and frosted glass door, revealing a tall, fully armoured Ward. The armour looked like an exaggerated carapace, with a deep blue colouration and harsh edges. A tall staff was attached to the left side of the Ward¡¯s back, while a large tank made of a strange verdigris-coloured metal was hooked to the right. With a rush of air, the Ward took off their helmet, revealing the stubby form of Al¡¯Shor.

    ¡°Ayy Al¡¯Corvo buddy, how¡¯re goin¡¯? Injury doin¡¯ aight?¡± Al¡¯Shor rushed past Al¡¯Corvo, sitting on one of Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s dining chairs. Al¡¯Corvo was still holding the door open when Al¡¯Shor began speaking again.

    ¡°So, I assume you¡¯ve read the letter yeah? ¡®Grats by the way. Not many can take a ghost like you,¡± Al¡¯Shor mimed the action of slamming down on someone¡¯s head, ¡°but I ain¡¯t here to make a courtesy call. Come, sit down.¡± Al¡¯Shor waved his confused counterpart over to his own dining table.

    Adopting a serious tone, Al¡¯Shor began explaining the current circumstances of the Wards to Al¡¯Corvo.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know since you were sleeping, but there¡¯s kinda a state of emergency goin¡¯ on. Don¡¯t worry, it ain¡¯t serious, but we need your help.¡±

    ¡°Seraphs take me,¡± Al¡¯Corvo whispered under his breath. ¡°Okay, so what¡¯s this emergency got to do with me?¡±

    ¡°Well, heh, some dipshit managed to piss a Centurion off enough to get it over the wall,¡± Al¡¯Shor began a laughing fit, ¡°imagine pissing one off so much that it would go past all the talismans and shit. You shoulda seen the look on the guy¡¯s fucking face when the thing climbed over!¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo let out a polite cough, ¡°You were saying something about an emergency Al¡¯Shor?¡±

    Al¡¯Shor suddenly stopped laughing.

    ¡°Well anyway, the Centurion knocked out the pylons surrounding Eastern Sector 20.¡±

    ¡°Fuck off. Are you kidding me?¡±

    ¡°Nup. Anyways, we sent four engees like you, but uh, only two came back. We kinda have our ¡®ands full, so we uh, need you teh go into ES20 and set sum stuff up.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Echo nets, or whatever you engees call ¡®em.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t that setback the Hope Project? That required a lot of ecto right?¡±

    ¡°Uh, I can¡¯t really say much, but yeah. It¡¯ll set it back a bit. Worth it though, Sector 20¡¯s kinda valuable yeah?¡±

    ¡°Where and when do you want me?¡±

    Al¡¯Shor checked his wristwatch, ¡°about 50 mins sound go to you? We¡¯ll get you on checkpoint two ¡®kay? Nice chat yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Al¡¯Corvo let out a sigh, ¡°want anything on the way out?¡±

    ¡°Got any coffee?¡±

    ¡°I can get you some rehydrated packs if you want.¡±

    ¡°Nevermind. Can¡¯t you get the good stuff?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a tea man.¡±

    ¡°Shame that.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo led his guest to the door, waving Al¡¯Shor goodbye before collapsing on his couch again.

    <hr>

    Al¡¯Corvo was out of breath. Sector 8, the only one of its kind, was on the western side of Raqmu. Eastern Sector 20, on the other hand, was on the far east. With only 20 minutes on the clock, he had to run all the way to ES20, which was especially rough since he was still wearing his thick woolen Ward clothes.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ES20 was primarily a storage area. What it exactly stored was anyone¡¯s guess, but considering its size it was probably food and material. As such, it had several checkpoints that sat at irregular intervals along a secondary lightning wall. Usually it would be deactivated, but with the ghosts swarming the area it was now activated.

    Just as Al¡¯Corvo arrived, he managed to bear witness to the lightning wall in action. Limping towards the checkpoint was a heavily injured Ward, carrying an unconscious electrician. Behind them were several ethereal shapes, though at this distance Al¡¯Corvo couldn¡¯t make out their forms. Even though they were but 20 metres away.

    To ensure the checkpoints weren¡¯t a breach hazard, their doorways could be turned into an electrified deathtrap. The wall of pure electricity had to be manually turned off and on again, which in this case wouldn¡¯t have just let in the wounded Ward.

    Seeing that they wouldn¡¯t make it to the checkpoint in time, the injured Ward suddenly changed course, running towards the lightning wall. They began speeding up, pushing their injured body to its very limit, and Al¡¯Corvo watched in horror as he realized what the Ward intended to do.

    Rather than becoming a puppet to the ghosts, or letting the same happen to the electrician, the Ward was going to evaporate themselves along with their charge.

    Letting out one final scream of defiance, the Ward charged forwards and Al¡¯Corvo could hear their shell creak with the effort, possibly even breaking. The other Wards simply raised a clenched fist to the right side of their chest. A salute to the fallen.

    With a final leap, the Ward rammed into the lightning wall, their final screams piercing the crisp afternoon air. While Al¡¯Corvo couldn¡¯t see what was happening to the Ward, he saw the air underneath the electrician¡¯s shell expand, creating the most awful cracking noise. Finally, the Ward simply dropped onto the ground as a smoking husk, while the electrician exploded, blood vaporising in the electrically charged air.

    The ghosts didn¡¯t fare much better, and Al¡¯Corvo could hear their howls of rage as they suddenly slammed into the wall. Instead of exploding into a gory soup like the engineer, they oscillated rapidly before almost solidifying on the lightning, as strange as that looked. Several Wards rushed towards the ghost goop with strange nets made of the same verdigris metal as their armour, collecting the cooling sludge.

    ¡°That¡¯s what we call a Ward¡¯s end.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo whipped around to see Al¡¯Shor, who had a single tear rolling down his centermost-left eye.

    ¡°Il¡¯Nare was a legend, always rushin¡¯ about to save others. Shame really.¡±

    ¡°Does¡­ does this happen often?¡± Al¡¯Corvo suddenly choked on his words. He may have cracked Il¡¯Shar¡¯s head open, but that felt somewhat detached, like a dream. This was real, he could even smell the scent of burning flesh coming from Il¡¯Nare¡¯s steaming husk.

    ¡°Enough that we ¡®ave a name fo¡¯ it.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo merely gulped, a fresh, heavy sheen of sweat coating his shell.

    ¡°What do I need to do now that I¡¯m here.¡± He stammered the first half of the sentence, suring himself for the job to come.

    Noticing his arrival, a bulky Ward wandered over, armour clanking with every step. Their chestplate had a golden trim, signifying their rank of Legatus, or officer. Their voice was deep and booming, an effect amplified further by their large helmet. There was a cold, almost hostile tone to their voice.

    ¡°Al¡¯Corvo I presume? Unfortunate you had to witness that. No matter, I assume that Al¡¯Shor has told you your mission,¡± and without waiting for a response, ¡°good. Inside the checkpoint you will be handed the supplies required to set up the echo net.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo instantly decided that the Legatus was male, probably a huntsman due to his voice.

    ¡°Will anyone be coming with me?¡±

    The Legatus was silent for a moment.

    ¡°You will be assigned the Ab Initiate Il¡¯Nok. She will carry the 10 litres of ectoplasm required for this operation. The base nets have been set, your job is to apply the ectoplasm and electrify it.¡±

    ¡°Why only a rookie?¡± Al¡¯Corvo was almost indignant, after all, did they really not care enough about his life to assign him someone with experience?

    ¡°We are preoccupied with making sure no further breaches occur. We don¡¯t have the manpower to spare. Especially not for a former civilian.¡±

    As Al¡¯Corvo walked towards the checkpoint he muttered under his breath, ¡°up yours too.¡±

    The checkpoint hut was a hive of activity, unarmoured Wards were crawling throughout the house-sized structure, passing ropes and tanks around like they were boiling hot. Standing next to the opposing door was an armoured Ward with their, or rather her, helmet off. She was clearly a huntsman, as evidenced by the fine hairs covering her scalp, and light brown shell colouration. While not exactly uncommon, huntsmen were still rare enough that Al¡¯Corvo was stunned for a few seconds.

    Upon sighting him, the Ward rushed over and held her hand out.

    ¡°Hi there! I¡¯m Il¡¯Nok, although the chief probably told you that, heh, are you ready?¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo was almost taken aback by her casual way of talking, more used to the dour and leaden way of talking that was common amongst workers.

    ¡°Sure, do you have the ecto?¡±

    ¡°Yup!¡±

    With a heft, Il¡¯Nok gathered up a massive tank of ectoplasm on her back. Another, less known trait about huntsmen, was their ridiculous carrying capacity. Although perhaps it was more accurate to say that their speed was so great that weight wasn¡¯t much of a barrier to them.

    With a thumbs up, a Ward manning a monitor typed several commands into their computer with loud keystrokes, causing the electric door to power off. Al¡¯Corvo gathered up the necessary tools and a cattle prod that were swiftly passed to him from a dangling Ward

    Both Al¡¯Corvo and Il¡¯Nok walked into Sector 20.

 Chapter 5: The Haunt

    Al¡¯Corvo, much like the general populace, didn¡¯t know much about Eastern Sector 20. Of course he had worked there a few times, but other than that he never thought about the place. ¡®Just storage¡¯, as the popular belief went.

    Indeed, as Al¡¯Corvo and Il¡¯Nok walked into the sector, all they saw was row after row of warehouses. Each one built exactly alike, with slanted roofs designed to prevent snow build-up during the heavy winter months. Several intersecting roads weaved through the warehouses like a labyrinth. Not to be confused with a Labyrinth, a hellish place no sane story snatcher would want to be in.

    ¡°Odd.¡± That¡¯s all Al¡¯Corvo could say when he saw the path before him covered in puddles of a strange, almost translucent green fluid. All of the warehouse doors were open, and a strange glow could be found in the closest one to his left. He was already feeling stress build inside of him. The place was too quiet, too empty.

    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s the stuff that¡¯s left over when they make ecto. What¡¯s that doing there?¡± Il¡¯Nok had an obviously perplexed look on her face.

    ¡°There¡¯s stuff left over?¡± this time it was Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s time to look confused.

    ¡°Yeah, about 90% of the ecto they get from ghosts is useless. My first task as a rookie was making ecto. It¡¯s hours of combing through the goop, and what¡¯s worse is the disinfectant stuff I had to dunk my hands, all four mind you, in. My shell had never been smoother.¡± Saying that, Il¡¯Nok began rubbing her gauntleted hands together.

    ¡°Hah, my first job was¡­ You hear that?¡±

    An almost slurping noise was coming from the glowing warehouse.

    ¡°Let¡¯s take a look okay?¡± Al¡¯Corvo was confident in taking the lead, despite having no experience in a Ward operation. An almost fatal mistake.

    Hunching over, almost on all sixes, Al¡¯Corvo crept along the warehouse wall. Il¡¯Nok had to creep slightly louder as her armour clanked as each piece rubbed against the next. Al¡¯Corvo peered into the ajar warehouse sliding door, finally understanding what the glow was. A large tank of the ectoplasm leftovers was punctured, and lapping at its contents were several possessed bodies.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Al¡¯Corvo hissed, ¡°let¡¯s just hope that they¡¯re too busy doing whatever the hell they¡¯re doing to notice us.¡±

    ¡°Aboooout that. Ghosts are kinda blind. They see life force or whatever, or at least that¡¯s what we think they do.¡±

    ¡°And you only tell me this fucking now!?¡± Al¡¯Corvo, seething with unknown indignation, raised his voice but a touch higher than a hushed whisper. One ghost turned around, head cocked. Instead of black fluid leaking from its fangs, this one had tears leaking from empty eye sockets. Screaming, it lunged after Al¡¯Corvo, tripping on the puddle of ectoplasm.

    ¡°Fuck it, run!¡± Al¡¯Corvo yelled, abandoning all pretense of stealth.

    As the ghostly cohort abandoned their disgusting feast and screamed after the Wards, Al¡¯Corvo and Il¡¯Nok bolted towards the wall. Passing by several open warehouses, Al¡¯Corvo saw more ghosts consuming ectoplasm remains and other miscellaneous food sources.

    Approaching a crossroads, Il¡¯Nok spotted several ghosts circling above a warehouse straight in front of them. Looking back, she saw what must have been two dozen possessed running after the pair.

    ¡°Al¡¯Corvo! Turn right!¡± she yelled.

    ¡°That¡¯s the opposite direction to the wall though!¡± he shouted in kind.

    ¡°We need to lose some of these possessed, and I see more normal ghosts over there!¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Roots above, fine. Any way we can follow that path and double back?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, after a few more rights and a left there should be another crossroads.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo simply nodded as he skidded to the right. After more turns in the growing maze of storage towers and warehouses, only 2 possessed remained chasing the Ward duo. The wall however, was much closer than before.

    Feeling that indignant rage rise inside of him again, Al¡¯Corvo unsheathed his cattle prod. It was long, with a copper coil lacing most of its length. With an experimental pull of trigger, Al¡¯Corvo saw the entire coil spark with electricity.

    ¡°Are you planning on fighting them?¡± Il¡¯Nok was concerned. Al¡¯Corvo seemed somewhat mild-mannered, if not irritable, but during this mission he had gone from pissy to outright reckless in anger.

    ¡°Yes. No reason not to get some more ectoplasm for the net.¡± Al¡¯Corvo said with a deadpan voice.

    Il¡¯Nok could see a hint of gold flash inside of Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s eyes. Weird, she thought, as she saw Al¡¯Corvo give the cattle prod a few experimental swings. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two possessed enter the crossroads.

    Al¡¯Corvo wasted no time rushing forward, eager to seize the initiative. Il¡¯Nok took the more measured, drilled approach. By the time she had taken out her electrified man-catcher, Al¡¯Corvo was already attacking the first possessed.

    Al¡¯Corvo was smaller than his victim, at least a solid 10cm shorter than the behemoth of a story snatcher. Coated in muscle, it seemed that this possessed was a storage worker. Cattle prod sparking, Al¡¯Corvo shoved it into a small gap between the possessed¡¯s chest. Gripping the trigger with white knuckles, Al¡¯Corvo snarled as the possessed screamed with pain. An almost glowing white fluid leaked out of the wound and the possessed¡¯s eyes.

    Il¡¯Nok on the other hand, fought the second possessed with trained grace. Keeping it at arms reach, she easily outmaneuvered the clumsy possessed. This possessed, in stark contrast to the storage worker, was lithe and short. Thick woolen clothing marked this possessed as one of the electricians sent in to set up the echo net.

    With a single, perfectly timed thrust she caught the possessed¡¯s neck, before activating the man-catchers electrifying properties. In a split second the corpse¡¯s spine was roasted. With a dreadful sucking noise, the ghost puppeteering it was released.

    Al¡¯Corvo fought with reckless abandon. Sliding under cumbersome swipes, he continued applying pressure on the giant. Each shock he gave the ghost made it move faster and faster, as if desperate to kill him. Al¡¯Corvo however, still managed to be faster yet, stabbing at every gap in the corpse¡¯s shell. Never the attentive biology student, some part of Al¡¯Corvo was surprised at how he knew where to place the prod.

    Nimbly side-stepping a brutally swift blow from all four of the giant¡¯s fists, Al¡¯Corvo experienced heightened clarity, time almost completely slowing down. Within a few steps he leapt over the ghost, before wrapping his arms around the corpse¡¯s neck in a chokehold. Il¡¯Nok saw that behind his pale green eyes there was a brilliant golden glow.

    Time still slowed, Al¡¯Corvo let out an animalistic hiss as he jammed the cattle prod into the ghost¡¯s neck, practically severing its head from its body. Sluggish blood sprayed the crossroads as the head was ripped off by one of Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s hind-arms. As the ghost emerged from the neck, Al¡¯Corvo suddenly struck it with the cattle prod, managing to guide it into some unknown core of the spectre. Instantly it evaporated into ectoplasm.

    Il¡¯Nok was completely shocked, as in mere nanoseconds Al¡¯Corvo struck a blow that would¡¯ve taken an experienced Ward minutes to carefully line up. Speaking of which, she still had the ghost from the electrician to kill.

    The ghost briefly spiralled after it exited the corpse, before rushing at Il¡¯Nok. Almost like Al¡¯Corvo, time slowed down for Il¡¯Nok. Unlike Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s bestial instinct, this rush of adrenaline was trained for Il¡¯Nok. Years of training had rendered her mind into a killing machine, no longer held back by morality. Unlike the armies of old, there was no hesitation of killing another man. These ghosts were already gone.

    As the ghost lunged, Il¡¯Nok ungracefully rolled to the side, feeling the plate armour dig into her shell lightly. The ghost was perfectly straight, the exact position required for a killing blow. Extending her man-catcher towards the torso, she lined the hook up so that as she pulled the trigger, the ghost would evaporate itself from one end to the other. In other words, an almost perfectly executed killing blow. Once lined up, ghosts weren¡¯t too hard to kill.

    Sweating inside her armour, Il¡¯Nok turned to see Al¡¯Corvo looking down at his ichor-stained hands. Confusion was written clearly across his face.

    ¡°Where to next exactly?¡± He whispered.

    ¡°We take the left I think. Nice job by the way.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I guess it was.¡±

 Chapter 6: Hiding

    Al¡¯Corvo and Il¡¯Nok sat silently in one of the storage towers. When Sector 20 was originally built, it wasn¡¯t meant to be an efficient place. Al¡¯Corvo heard from his dad it was just another part of the city. The larger city that is, before the ghosts and centurions roamed the earth. When the walls were erected, and Eastern Sector 20 established, towers were set up to take up any available empty space.

    The Ward pair were tired after the brawl with the possessed, so they were having a feast of worm-ridden apples and maggot-infested biscuits. To a story snatcher, this was the height of luxury. Food in the apocalypse was divided into 3 groups. Nutrients, rations and food. Nutrients were bars of¡­ mysterious insect meat. Not story snatcher to be sure (as some desperate survivors attested to), but sure as hell nothing normal. Rations were what Al¡¯Corvo had access to as a government worker. Old MREs, tinned food and hardtack. Food however, was the good stuff. Farmed maggots, crunchy grasshoppers and beef. All crushed into an edible slurry of course. Story snatchers had a liquid diet, although their liquifying venom had been replaced with stones and metal over the years.

    ¡°So¡­ Al¡¯Corvo, how did you manage that? I have never seen anyone do something that cool!¡± halfway through her sentence it seemed that Il¡¯Nok had regained the effervescence Al¡¯Corvo had originally seen her with. She also had her helmet off.

    A loud crunch echoed throughout the small room at the top of the tower as Al¡¯Corvo bit into some hardtack. He almost looked ponderous.

    ¡°Not sure really, prior to this I had barely managed to punch the shit out of my dickhead of a co-worker.¡± Al¡¯Corvo suddenly became quiet. ¡°I swear after I heard I was assigned to you, I just kinda lost my cool.¡±

    His face scrunched up as if he was in deep pain.

    ¡°Roots Al¡¯Corvo, you alright?¡± Il¡¯Nok looked concerned.

    Al¡¯Corvo let out one of his regular sighs.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ fine. Just stressed.¡± He managed to pull a pained smile, ¡°never done one of these before you know? Just last week I was complaining about the shitty schedules when it came to the Wards helping us out.¡±

    Il¡¯Nok lightly punched him on the shoulder.

    ¡°You of all people should know how understaffed we are. It takes years to get us ready.¡± Il¡¯Nok had a joking smile that signalled she wasn¡¯t angry.

    Il¡¯Nok stood up, put on her helmet and reached out a hand to pull Al¡¯Corvo up. Taking it he stood up, stretching his aching body. It seemed as though his body still wasn¡¯t fully recovered.

    The two slowly worked their way down the narrow ladder, with Il¡¯Nok taking the lead. Crouched over, Al¡¯Corvo quickly looked outside, not seeing any ghosts or possessed. Now that his temper had simmered down, Al¡¯Corvo was merely silent. The wind moaned over the warehouses, giving the place an eerie atmosphere. That and the eternally circling ghosts, indeed it was apt to say that they were like vultures.

    Much like when he was fixing the pylons, every tiny noise sent Al¡¯Corvo into an alert state. This was in stark contrast to Il¡¯Nok, who calmly stalked the concrete roads with the grace that came with years of training.

    Once again the pair found themselves at a crossroads. The wall loomed a mere 100 metres or so away. With a few more turns, they would find themselves at the far edge of the Sector 20 wall. The plan being that they slowly move from the left side to the right, covering the echo net with ectoplasm. Once electrified, it would work as an ad hoc anti-ghost measure.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    As the afternoon turned to evening, mist began rising and clinging to the Wards¡¯ feet. As the mist rose further and further up, growing as thick as wool, Al¡¯Corvo finally relaxed. He hadn¡¯t realised how taught his muscles had become until they were loosened, and he felt an hour¡¯s worth of cramps take over.

    Il¡¯Nok must have noticed his grimace of pain, as she tried sounding as gentle as possible through the echo effect of her helmet when she asked him how he was.

    ¡°Fine. Just fine. Fuck, no, it hurts so much. I think I tore something in my legs,¡± Al¡¯Corvo regretted fighting possessed after he had barely finished recovering. Though that on its own sparked rage within him. Why did the Wards give him a seraph-forsaken job when he had just come out of fucking hospital!

    Letting out a breath that was visible in the clingy mists, Al¡¯Corvo calmed himself.

    ¡°Lucky for us, ghosts hate mist. We¡¯re not too sure why, I think it¡¯s cause it spooks ¡®em too much. You should be fine until we reach the wall.¡± Il¡¯Nok desperately tried to cheer the conflicted story snatcher.

    The Wards lifted themselves up from a crouching position and began walking the empty road standing up. As they walked, Al¡¯Corvo could see a few ghosts circling inside of a warehouse, spectral tongues licking at long-spoilt grain. Despite spotting the Wards, the ghosts merely stared at them as they passed. One still hissed in frustration however.

    Soon steam began merging with the mist. Al¡¯Corvo almost lept back at the unexpected metallic flavour.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Al¡¯Corvo barked gruffly. He wasn¡¯t in the mood for more surprises.

    ¡°Uhhhh. You know what, I have no clue.¡± It seemed that Il¡¯Nok was just as confused.

    Visibility was reduced in the mist, which had grown stronger with the steam. Luckily, as long as the two continued straight forward they would reach the wall. The streets began showing signs of a struggle. Rather than the abandoned ghost town feel Sector 20 gave off earlier, this street looked more like a battlefield.

    Deep, blackened rents scarred the once-smooth concrete. Al¡¯Corvo could even see a few bits of burnt meat littering the streets. Whether it was food or something else was unknown. As he accidentally stepped on a piece, he felt a bit of twisted metal push against his sole. Perhaps it was best that he didn¡¯t know. Roof tiles too littered the ground, making Al¡¯Corvo more conscious of where he stepped. Unlike Il¡¯Nok, he didn¡¯t wear shoes as they hindered his climbing. A sudden burst of hot air pushed the mist aside for long enough that Al¡¯Corvo could see what was causing the steam.

    Milky white flesh dominated his field of view. It was ribbed in wide, wavy patterns. Every few seconds steam emerged from the channels, and they got deeper. With a cautionary tap, Al¡¯Corvo pulled his hand back. Not only was the flesh scalding hot, but it was as hard and smooth as porcelain. Looking around, Al¡¯Corvo could see something that vaguely resembled an arm. It had torn muscles, revealing dark blue innards. Clearly, whatever this thing was, it wasn¡¯t natural. Or simply used hemocyanin instead of hemoglobin.

    Ignoring both the pain from the heat and his strained legs, Al¡¯Corvo climbed up the corpse to take a better look at its arm. Once he saw its distinctive bladed appendage, an arm without a hand, and its featureless face, he immediately understood what this creature was.

    ¡°...Centurion,¡± he whispered under his breath.

    ¡°Yup, I was manning the walls at the time this thing came in. Took ages and a bunch of broken pylons to take it down.¡± Al¡¯Corvo turned around to see that Il¡¯Nok had joined him.

    ¡°So the Immunes actually kill these things. They¡¯re bloody crazy.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why I joined the Wards. Much safer really.¡±

    The two silently slid off the creature¡¯s underside and found themselves only a dozen metres away from the wall.

    ¡°Time to get to it then I suppose.¡± Al¡¯Corvo looking forward to finally being done with this Ward business

 Chapter 7: Cultists on the Wall

    For the first time in his life, Al¡¯Corvo stood on top of the wall. It was at least 5 metres thick, and the other side was coated in yellowed, peeling paper. From above he could barely make out the faded ink coating each sheet of paper. From what he knew, they were talismans, spells designed to ward off centurions.

    Further out was a scene of pure devastation. Giant skyscrapers toppled over, rents in the land deeper than what could be seen. The skyscrapers themselves were covered in moss and vines, and a few of them even had waterfalls falling from within. Other buildings dotted the land, and unnaturally sheer cliffs suggested that the land had once been flat.

    In various places there were trees permanently dyed with blood, or so Al¡¯Corvo had heard. All Al¡¯Corvo could really see were their bright red leaves. Contrasting both the serene devastation of the buildings and the sorrowful trees were the giant spines. They were made of hundreds of dark red shards, and must have stretched hundreds of metres into the sky. Many of them were straight and helped form the distinctive spine-like features. Some however, formed solar-flare-like curves around the spines. Al¡¯Corvo could only barely make out the almost spherical shards. They looked like drops of blood.

    Running right through the wall and out to the horizon was a river, and he could see several strange creatures drinking from the pure water. They were covered in dark brown fur and had upright ears. They barked and growled at each other.

    ¡°So this is what we¡¯ve been missing. Beautiful, though I can¡¯t say I¡¯d want to be out there .¡± Al¡¯Corvo simply shrugged and turned around. He only caught a glimpse of something white climbing a toppled building.

    Before dying, the previous waves of engineers and Wards had set everything up for the echo net. Several anchoring spikes had been driven into the wall, so that Al¡¯Corvo could swing from one side of the wall to the other. A large net had also been set up. It looked more like a thin piece of dark nylon, although Al¡¯Corvo knew from his studies that the sheet was covered in thin hair-like fibres that would catch the ectoplasm like pollen to a bee.

    A long tube also lay wound up for use. This would be hooked up to the tank on Il¡¯Nok¡¯s back. All Al¡¯Corvo would need to do is carefully hose the ectoplasm onto the net, while Il¡¯Nok would need to carry the tank.

    ¡°Are you ready!¡± Al¡¯Corvo shouted down to Il¡¯Nok.

    ¡°Yup! Chuck the pump down!¡± Il¡¯Nok let out an excited yell in return. This would be her first successful mission.

    Al¡¯Corvo grunted with effort as he threw down the rear end of the heavy tubing. The sound of the tube unwinding went on for a few seconds before a final thud made Al¡¯Corvo jump. In a few moments he heard a quiet thunk as the tube and the tank were connected. Looking over the edge of the wall he saw Il¡¯Nok give him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

    Affixing a karabiner to both a sturdy rope and his harness, Al¡¯Corvo grasped the ectoplasm hose tightly and began his work. His hind-arms would be vital for this work, as they would allow him to grasp the stabilizing spikes with ease for both stability and to allow him to move to the next in line.

    With everything prepared, he gave the hose trigger a slight pull to see if it worked, and he saw a dribble of bright blue ectoplasm emerge after a second. Focusing on the task at hand, he slowly began lining the top of the echo net with ectoplasm, watching it slowly roll down the net in an almost even coating.

    <hr>

    Il¡¯Nok was perplexed by Al¡¯Corvo. At first he seemed nice enough, perhaps a touch abrasive, but suddenly he became¡­ strange. He began losing his cool quickly, and then suddenly he went all quiet. To be fair though, Il¡¯Nok thought, I don¡¯t know him all that well.

    For a first mission, Il¡¯Nok was almost happy that nothing truly awful had occurred. Like every other Ab Initiate, Il¡¯Nok was told all sorts of horror stories of times a mission went wrong. An unexpected horde of ghosts, a Labyrinth (she shuddered at the thought) or even a centurion¡­ Well she had lived through that tragedy.

    The instant she thought about the centurion, she saw Al¡¯Corvo taking a break on one of the broken pylons. He had hung the hose on one of the many broken supports, and he had hooked his karabiner to another support. He was looking out at the horizon, watching the sun slowly sink below the world. Il¡¯Nok knew that he was seeing the sun¡¯s warm rays reflect off the river, while the purple sky and its rippling clouds framed it all perfectly. She didn¡¯t want to hurry him, it was a gorgeous view to someone who had never seen the sun set nor rise. Besides, there weren¡¯t any ghosts to be seen, as the mist still milled behind them.

    Looking back, Il¡¯Nok saw that they had almost covered half of the wall in ectoplasm. Right now it wasn¡¯t electrified, so it looked like someone had coated the wall in dark blue¡­ gunk would be the polite term for it.

    Al¡¯Corvo almost looked happy up on the tower. Il¡¯Nok noticed with keen eyes that he had pulled out some olives and was slowly eating them one by one. Where he had gotten the olives exactly, Il¡¯Nok wasn¡¯t sure. Al¡¯Corvo suddenly turned to face Il¡¯Nok, with an ever so faint gold glow in one of his smaller eyes. He looked angry, filled with rage that someone dared to look upon him. Suddenly, his eyes softened, and he scratched the back of head awkwardly. Turning around he got back to work. Slowly but surely coating the walls in ectoplasm.

    1 kilometre down, 1 more to go.

    <hr>

    It was relaxing. Focusing on work that is, without the burden of worrying about ghosts or something else. Al¡¯Corvo was also happy that for whatever reason, the simple task of hosing down a net didn¡¯t cause any anger. If he pulled the trigger and let a small amount of ectoplasm out, that was fine. He wasn¡¯t too stressed about these sorts of things. The sunset also helped. Had he seen the orange sky before? Of course, the walls weren¡¯t that big. But with the sun, the river and the concrete jungle? Of course not.

    What was also nice was that without him even realising it, he had coated the wall. For some reason Al¡¯Corvo could easily slip into a working groove. If it wasn¡¯t stressful or required a particular attention to detail, his brain would run on autopilot and finish the job in what seemed like seconds.

    And that¡¯s how I succeeded in advanced maths, Al¡¯Corvo thought with one of his rare smiles.

    ¡°Il¡¯Nok, you see the generator down there?!¡± he shouted. He heard a twinge of joy in his voice. Perhaps he was enjoying his reprieve too much. Something would go wrong, he could feel that throughout his exoskeleton.

    ¡°Yup! Seems the engees managed to hook it up before they left,¡± Il¡¯Nok managed to sound as cheery as ever.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re done up here. The echo net just needs to be lit up and we can return,¡± and under his breath he added, ¡°and I can finally get a fucking drink.¡±

    Seconds later he added with a ponderous tone, ¡°perhaps tea. Yes, that will help with the nerves.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ Which button do I press?¡± Il¡¯Nok¡¯s voice broke Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s train of thought.

    ¡°Pull the chord first, then press the red button. How do you not know how to use a generator?¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t teach this in the academy!¡±

    ¡°Too busy showing you how to stab things right?¡±

    ¡°Fuck you too!¡± Il¡¯Nok¡¯s tone of voice indicated she wasn¡¯t offended. Harmless banter, as they say.

    With a few whirring sounds and plentiful curses, the generator turned on. As it was cheaply built and poorly maintained, the noise it made was horrendous. Belching noises were interspersed between the loud whirring and grinding noises as the ectoplasm generator got to work. The noise alone set something off inside of Al¡¯Corvo. The mist had so far kept the possessed away, but would it keep them away from such an obvious display of life?

    Al¡¯Corvo quickly scaled the wall and ran over to a cable at the end of the echo net. He plugged the thick cable into the electrical socket, causing a current to run through the smallest amount of ectoplasm on the net. Suddenly, the slimy substance became a neon, sparking blue that pulsed with energy. The current spread rapidly along the net, causing the entire net to become a brilliant, and bright, blue colour.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± This was the only thing Al¡¯Corvo could say when he realized what was going to happen.

    <hr>

    Il¡¯Nok was stunned by the brilliant display of raw power. The sparking, pulsating wall of ectoplasm looked amazing. However, seeing Al¡¯Corvo suddenly straighten up and look towards the warehouses gave her a bad feeling deep in her stomach. That was when she heard growling, and dozens of clicking noises.

    Darkness had long ago shrouded the land as twilight faded to night, but the brilliant glow of the echo net illuminated at least a dozen possessed emerging from the warehouses and streets. Unsheathing her man-catcher, she prepared for a bitter struggle. Against one possessed, she could win. Against two, could be difficult. A dozen? She would be ripped apart. Her only hope would be to get to a nearby anchor point and climb. With her gauntleted hands this would be tricky, but it was her only hope.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    The first possessed lunged towards her, and she quickly batted it away with the blunt edge of her man-catcher. Aside from the catcher end of the staff, there was also a ball-mace-type end. This was for enforcement purposes, or for keeping away possessed that couldn¡¯t be killed.

    Crouching low, she smashed the mace into the closest possessed, a thick sandy-shelled Story Snatcher, shattering its leg. Somehow it still managed to get up, but this time it tripped with every step. Ghostly fortitude still couldn¡¯t heal injuries. Seeing the second possessed lunge at her, she quickly stepped back before crushing its head with the mace. She could deal with the ghost later. There were still 11 more possessed walking towards her. One she crippled, and the rest uninjured. They probably wouldn¡¯t be as foolish as the possessed that was laid at her feet.

    Looking up, she saw Al¡¯Corvo was fighting a single possessed that had hands covered in electrified ectoplasm. How it survived, she wasn¡¯t sure, and didn¡¯t have time to ponder. Another possessed was lined up to attack her, along with two others. If he fought with the same ferocity he had earlier, Al¡¯Corvo would be fine.

    <hr>

    Al¡¯Corvo was not fine. Far from it. The possessed was nimble, and flexible in a way that only a ghost could be. Al¡¯Corvo was not experienced in fighting, and despite his best efforts to draw upon the well of strength he used earlier, it was to no avail. He was no slouch agility-wise either, but he still couldn¡¯t move as fast as the undead.

    Twisting itself, the possessed managed to both duck Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s clumsy haymaker and shove extremely sharp claws straight into his chest. Al¡¯Corvo looked down, seeing his exoskeleton split open where the claws had pierced. A slight trickle of blood emerged from the wound, and he could feel the air touch his sensitive skin. He screamed in pain.

    The possessed easily pulled its hands out of the gaping hole in Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s exoskeleton. Merely watching Al¡¯Corvo fall onto his back, it stalked forward, ready for the kill. Suddenly its prey got up, and raised his fists in a basic stance. Al¡¯Corvo was somehow still alive, if in great pain, and was now determined to bring down his enemy. He slowly moved forward, carefully watching the abnormally strong possessed, making sure he wouldn¡¯t get caught by its broken body.

    The possessed responded to Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s caution by dropping on all fours, abandoning the use of its hind-arms. It stalked towards him, chelicerae twitching backwards and forwards, while its mouth-plates clicked. Suddenly, it lurched forward towards Al¡¯Corvo, although such a maneuver was becoming predictable. Jumping back, Al¡¯Corvo responded to the basic attack with a stomp, attempting to crack the possessed¡¯s head. He only managed to get a single hit in, which sent a dull crack echoing down the wall, before the possessed grabbed his leg with a bone-crushing grip.

    The possessed pulled Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s leg out from under him, causing him to crack his head against the stone wall. Groggily, Al¡¯Corvo watched the possessed grip his right arm, feeling its claws cut his exoskeleton. He also felt the possessed¡¯s knee dig into his stomach, completing the ghost¡¯s hold on him. He saw the ghost almost smile as it grabbed his right hind-arm, and Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s eyes widened when he realised what was going to happen next. Despite his addled mind, he desperately tried to figure out a way out of the hold.

    Al¡¯Corvo felt boiling spittal splash across his face as the possessed let out an unearthly laugh. He also felt a rapidly increasing pressure in his right hind-arm. Turning his rightmost eye to look at his hind-arm, he was scared. The possessed had gripped his arm and was slowly crushing the joint. Soon the laugh was joined by the sound of exoskeleton getting crushed, bone splintering and flesh getting tenderized by sheer grip pressure. With a triumphant howl, the possessed let go of his right front-arm to grip his hind-arm by the wrist. With a dreadful twist, the possessed pulled the forearm backwards from the joint while the other hand slapped Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s hind-elbow upwards.

    Suffice to say, if Al¡¯Corvo had an internal skeleton rather than an exoskeleton, the bone would¡¯ve poked out from his flesh. His forearm lay dangling from the hind-bicep, the whole thing only held together by a few strands of dense connective muscle and flexible exoskeleton. The pain however, served to clarify Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s mind. The tradeoff being that he couldn¡¯t even scream because of the sheer agony he felt.

    Al¡¯Corvo could feel time slow once again, although this time it was pure adrenaline and endorphins rather than some sort of supernatural power. Playing back his memories, he noticed one key thing about this particular possessed. For all its speed and might, it never used its hind-arms. While that didn¡¯t necessarily mean it couldn¡¯t use them, it at the very least didn¡¯t seem inclined to continue the hold it had on Al¡¯Corvo with them.

    The second piece of information was more gruesome, but important nonetheless. Recalling the time he had attacked the behemoth possessed, he felt the knowledge of various gaps in a Story Snatcher¡¯s anatomy flood into his mind. Of importance was the gap that lay just below the ribs, the part that allowed their kind to bend over. As it happened, being underneath someone was the best position to attack this weak-point. It also helped that the possessed was oblivious to the scheming of its prey. Al¡¯Corvo was nothing if not sly when it mattered.

    Taking a deep breath, Al¡¯Corvo suddenly roared at the possessed before jamming his clawed hands into the gap in the possessed¡¯s exoskeleton. He could feel its slimy flesh, that was covered in fluids not normally present, but he continued onwards. Making sure to scratch and rip at anything he could get his claws on, he eventually curled his claws inwards before pulling at the possessed¡¯s chest from the inside. He heard a crack, although it wasn¡¯t quite enough to rip the exoskeleton plate off. The distraction however, made the possessed lift its knee off of Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s stomach. With as much haste as he could muster, Al¡¯Corvo kept his hands underneath the possessed before tucking both his legs underneath the possessed¡¯s stomach. With a mighty two-legged kick he managed to not only rip off the possessed¡¯s chestplate, but also his own hind-arm. While the grip on his hind-elbow had let up, the hand gripping his hindwrist did not.

    Rolling backwards, he saw the possessed coughing and wheezing, stunned from having its chest ripped off. Taking the moment to strike, he scrambled up and then noticed he had dropped his cattle prod during the initial trading of blows. Lunging, he picked it up before turning around to see the possessed sprinting towards him at full speed. Stepping to the side, Al¡¯Corvo kicked the unbalanced possessed onto the concrete floor, before jamming the cattle prod into a small gap in between the head plate and back plate. He felt the possessed shudder and seize as the high-powered prod unloaded its voltage directly onto the story snatcher¡¯s tender skin.

    Within seconds, the possessed stopped moving. He heard a horrific slurping noise as the ghost within emerged from its corpse. The ghost was a pale, translucent mass of colour vaguely shaped like a story snatcher. It was a pale green and blue, with the colours shifting and pulsating like an aurora, which made it hurt to look at. Al¡¯Corvo raised his hand to protect his eyes against the shifting mass, and in that moment it flew straight into him, eager to possess another host.

    <hr>

    Il¡¯Nok had only just finished off the last of the dozen possessed assaulting her. Her armour was in shambles, and in some places even broken off. Her mace was covered in sticky ichor, a substance no longer blood and toxic to the living. Looking at it closely, several parts of the mace were damaged as it suffered from the beatings as much as the various possessed.

    She simply stood panting, the simple effort of standing too much. Il¡¯Nok couldn¡¯t remember how she managed to kill all of the possessed, only golden light overtaking her vision after one of the possessed began trying to take off her helmet. Looking up with weary eyes, they widened when she saw a wounded Al¡¯Corvo get possessed by a ghost. Whether or not he would die was entirely up to him. It was rare, but some people managed to survive a possession. All her brain could remember was something about ghosts being less real than story snatchers. Her head hurt so much.

    Shifting right hand slightly, she stared blankly as the staff simply fell apart. It was roughly split down the middle, as if it had been broken from wear and tear rather than battle damage. She knew the man-catcher was new, so it didn¡¯t make any sense as to why it just fell apart. After removing her left hand from the mace end, which promptly fell to the ground, she felt an ache spread throughout her palm. Dropping the other end of the man-catcher, she carefully put a claw underneath one of the shells on her palm. Pulling up, she realised the shell was only still attached by blood. As it slowly, and painfully, parted from her flesh she saw the skin was a mess of blood and torn muscle.

    She collapsed. She screamed in agony as she felt all of the torn muscles and broken flesh that now marred her body. Her armour wasn¡¯t even really opened from damage, so how the wounds had gotten there she wasn¡¯t sure.

    Il¡¯Nok looked around, only barely awake. She saw 3 more possessed walk from the warehouses, and knew she was dead. It would all depend on how long it took for them to tear apart her armour. Her exoskeleton was even parted from her flesh, so they would have no trouble carving away her organs. Il¡¯Nok would¡¯ve chuckled if her throat and lungs didn¡¯t burn like they were on fire.

    Waiting for the possessed to end her, she found that instead of simple blinks, Il¡¯Nok managed to drop in and out of consciousness. It, at the very least, meant she didn¡¯t have to endure the agonizing wait for them to slowly shuffle over to her prone body. Finally, she watched in acceptance as one of the possessed reached out a claw to rip off her chestplate. She closed her eyes.

    A loud bang woke Il¡¯Nok, who didn¡¯t realise she had fallen unconscious again. The possessed who was about to kill her was lying on the ground in front of her, with half of its head missing. Another loud crack echoed throughout the largely silent Sector, before Il¡¯Nok heard muffled curses and the sound of bullets being put into a barrel. One last crack and a bodyfall later, all of the possessed lay dead.

    Il¡¯Nok heard another muted sound, which her addled mind perceived as coarse laughter. A light clanking noise soon took over as the dominant sound when the laughter stopped. Il¡¯Nok painfully moved some of her eyes to try and see what the source of the gunshots was. A difficult task as she was fairly certain some of her eyes were covered in blood, or whatever that sticky substance was. She couldn¡¯t be certain.

    Il¡¯Nok didn¡¯t have too many expectations for what her saviour could be. If they were wasting ammunition with a gun, then they were probably some sort of nut that went outside of the walls regularly. Perhaps they were some unarmoured prick the Wards wanted to be rid of, someone with a hoard of weapons that needed ¡®acquiring¡¯.

    Instead, she managed to catch a glimpse of a dust-beaten leather duster and bared feet with several dents in the shell. She saw the story snatcher stop, before she turned her eyes upwards again to see the soldier, or whatever they were.

    She quickly saw that the person was a male, or at least probably male judging by the slightly larger fangs and chelicerae. He was wearing a plain, dark wide-brimmed hat which covered the upper-left eye. His shirt was made of light, yet coarse spider-silk, which was somewhat comparable to cotton. The shirt too was devoid of any marking insignias. Looking up again, she saw that the neck and mouth of the story snatcher was covered in a thick cowl that could be pulled up to cover the rest of his face. Il¡¯Nok could also barely make out various shiny objects hanging from his neck that she later realised were various religious items. From once-common Seraphim Totems all the way to taboo Root Cult coins.

    In his right hind-arm was a presumably modified coach gun while a normal hunting rifle hung from his back. Il¡¯Nok did a double take when she saw what appeared to be a longsword also hanging, sheathed, on his back.

    ¡°Seraphs girl, ain¡¯t seen someone fight like that since the bloody Root assault,¡± he leaned in closer to examine her eye before pulling away. ¡°Yup. Figured. Well, you should get some rest. The Wards should be here soon.¡±

    Il¡¯Nok watched as the strange story snatcher walked away, but not before croaking out, ¡°who¡­ who are you?¡±

    ¡°Al¡¯Bot. Good luck by the way, you should see me again soon. There¡¯s a Labyrinth getting awfully close by.¡±

    With that, Il¡¯Nok finally felt her consciousness drift away. It had been a long day.

 Interlude: Wiling Away the Time

    ¡°So that¡¯s it?¡± you ask.

    ¡°Of course not, it¡¯s just that the next part is perhaps better spoken away from prying eyes and ears. Besides, the noise is irritating.¡±

    For someone with the mannerisms and speech of an old man, the story snatcher certainly knows how to tell a story. You follow the wounded man up a flight of rickety stairs that would¡¯ve violated the safety guidelines of any human planet. Shame the story snatchers didn¡¯t care. They were too busy trying to survive the hell they created.

    Walking along a creaky corridor, you finally enter the story snatcher¡¯s room. As he closes the door behind him you notice one of his hind-arms is slightly shorter than the other, and much paler in colouration.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t catch your name by the way,¡± you simply state to your host.

    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s Al- no sorry, outdated custom of my village. It¡¯s simply Brect. Ah, noticed you staring at my arm,¡± almost for emphasis, you see Brect wriggle the discoloured hind-arm, ¡°an industrial accident. That¡¯s why I left this place. Take a look if you want, don¡¯t mind the sutures. I should get them removed, but I can¡¯t be fucked!¡± Brect let out a laugh.

    ¡°But you came back?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well you know this place was the closest thing to home after my planet got destroyed. Fucking wyrm-fey politics, you know how it is.¡±

    ¡°Fungoils?¡± You of course know about the wyrm-fey, the things they made. They were once labelled by one of the various churches as actual embodiments of the Devil. To be fair though, nothing even remotely holy would make fungoils. They were a plague that replicated and destroyed all life on a planet within weeks. Outlawed as well, but sometimes a wyrm-fey would ¡®slip¡¯ and accidentally release a fungoil spore on a planet.

    ¡°Not sure, I was gone before they destroyed it. Anyway, can I get you something to drink, non-alcoholic of course.¡±

    Looking around, you notice that what should¡¯ve been a normal inn room was more like a tiny apartment. Shelves upon shelves were roughly nailed onto each wall, stacked high with various appliances and trinkets. The place was dimly lit by small crystals, their origin dubious at best. You even see a propane stove and oven lying in the corner. The bed, more like a hammock, was strung between the back left corner, and directly beneath it is a small chest made of ancient, warped wood.

    ¡°What do you have?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°Hmm, let me check quickly.¡± Brect began searching through a pile of various goods before moving onto various draws.

    ¡°So uh, you just allowed to live here?¡± An idle question, but it¡¯s better than letting the conversation turn to awkward silence.

    ¡°The bartender and I have come to an¡­ arrangement. I get to live here and he doesn¡¯t get the revenue men called on him.¡± Brect explains almost too casually about how he would destroy another man¡¯s business in exchange for shelter.

    ¡°Anyway, we have tea and water.¡± Brect states triumphantly.

    ¡°Got any coffee?¡±

    ¡°I can get you some rehydrated packs if you want.¡±

    ¡°Nah, tea¡¯s good.¡±

    ¡°A fellow tea man I see, good choice.¡± Brect immediately gets to work with an old kettle.

    ¡°So, what did you do before coming here?¡± you ask.

    Brect stops for a moment while pouring the hot water.

    ¡°Well, I used to work at a wormhole station nearby. That¡¯s where I got this story from actually, a strange group they were. Imagine, one minute doing maintenance checks and the next the wormhole opens up and a bunch of strange story snatchers pop out!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve had a busy life,¡± is all you can manage. From working at a wormhole station to some sort of industrial position, Brect clearly had a lot of experience.

    ¡°Bah, I was only an electrician. Nothing major, I didn¡¯t actually type the coordinates for the wormhole.¡± Brect brings over the tea in small dented metal mugs. ¡°Come over here, sit. It isn¡¯t the most comfortable but it will do.¡± Brect points you over to a small wooden crate. Instead of sitting on the other crate, he instead climbs onto a nearby shelf lined with pillows.

    ¡°You know strange things can happen with wormholes. Once I heard that some poor sod managed to get sent forward in time 90 years.¡± Brect gives you an almost knowing look.

    ¡°Why, exactly, is that relevant?¡± You are confused. You know that without proper care, wormholes could fuck with spacetime something major.

    ¡°Well, I have a theory these story snatchers might have come from another time. Perhaps even another universe, you never know.¡±

    ¡°Actually I was wondering that, where is this story set exactly?¡± It was an interesting question, because no planet you had ever heard of had ghosts, much less these¡­ centurion things. Surely something as major would¡¯ve been reported right?

    ¡°Another universe, and if my research is correct, not that far from ours. I reckon they¡¯re refugees from their universe.¡±

    ¡°I suppose ghosts would do that.¡±

    Brect¡¯s eyes harden for an instant. He opens his mouth to say something, before simply adding, ¡°from what I heard, it most certainly did. Of course, I haven¡¯t gotten to the worst aspects of their world.¡±

    He sighs, before saying ¡°I suppose I should get to the rest of the story yes? I do hope you have enjoyed it so far.¡±

 Chapter 8: Respite

    ¡°Fuuuuuuuuck¡­ Oh roots I¡¯m in here again.¡± Al¡¯Corvo stared up at a fluorescent light, which was probably too bright for someone who just woke up from a¡­ however long coma. The tiles were still nice, white and presumably sterile. Al¡¯Corvo was once more in the hospital. His head didn¡¯t hurt this time, but a sharp, pulsating pain was felt in his legs and arms. His right hind-arm in particular hurt like nothing before. Even with 2 packs of painkillers ejecting their contents into his arm, he still felt the tender flesh and exoskeleton of his right hind-arm. The nerves were all wrong as well, as it kept twitching even when Al¡¯Corvo focused on trying to keep it still.

    Of course, despite his head not pounding like last time, the painkillers still shrouded everything in a light fog. Even still he could hear some sort of heated argument from outside his room. Which was odd. Not the argument, but the fact he had a room. Wards didn¡¯t get those did they?

    ¡°Eugh, thinking hurts,¡± Al¡¯Corvo grumbled before focusing his attention on the argument outside. Which wasn¡¯t too difficult since it was apparently getting quite heated.

    ¡°...I¡¯m telling you, his body simply cannot take another one of these- these idiotic missions!¡± Al¡¯Corvo assumed that was the doctor, maybe surgeon, who took care of him last time.

    ¡°And I assure you, Al¡¯Mik,¡± Al¡¯Corvo noted the large amount of venom loaded into the name, ¡°that he is perfectly capable of recovering. Is this not what ectoplasm is for? Healing our wounds?¡±

    ¡°I swear to the fucking seraphs Legatus,¡± again, a lot of venom put into the formal title, ¡°you know damn well that ectoplasm can¡¯t heal all of these wounds. Root dammit his arm will never be the fucking same! Because of your reckless actions, the poor bastard will never be able to bear weight with that arm again! Why didn¡¯t you get someone else?!¡±

    ¡°Hmph. Shame that. I suppose he wasn¡¯t as good as I thought. I assumed he would be competent enough to let Il¡¯Nok get rid of any possessed.¡±

    ¡°YOU CALLOUS FUCKER! HE¡¯S CRIPPLED THANKS TO YOU! And don¡¯t even get me started on Il¡¯Nok. You didn¡¯t even inform her of the¡­¡± Al¡¯Corvo felt himself zone out as more painkillers were pumped into his body. By the time he could hear again the argument was almost at its conclusion.

    ¡°So if I see Al¡¯Corvo in here. One. More. Time. I swear to the yggdrasil tree above that I will make sure no more Wards are treated here. If you cannot take adequate care of your men then you do not deserve our support.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo heard the ¡®legatus¡¯ figure begin speaking before getting cut off by the irate doctor.

    ¡°Don¡¯t even fucking dare say you don¡¯t have resources to give him armour. I know for a fact that because of your previous term as a Praetorian, you could arm the current Wards twice over. And that¡¯s just a conservative estimate.¡±

    The legatus, who Al¡¯Corvo finally recognised as the officer who gave him his mission, paused for a moment before assuming an icy cold tone.

    ¡°Say what you will about my tactics, however they get results. Something neither the current Praetorian of the Wards or the Praetorian of the Immunes haven¡¯t gotten in years. I am also confused as to your obsession with this lowly engineer. He took needless risks, and ended up in hospital.¡±

    ¡°My issue is that this isn¡¯t the fucking FIRST TIME! Every time you get your hands on someone new, you never give them anything but expect them to get results anyway? Why?¡± Al¡¯Corvo noted that defeat and desperation seeped into those last words.

    Instead of an answer, there was only silence for about a minute, before the legatus spoke.

    ¡°Fine. Al¡¯Corvo and others of his ilk will be granted the chance to leave. Should they remain, they will become an evocatus. Does that please you?¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Yes. Now as for Il¡¯Nok¡¯s wounds¡­¡± Al¡¯Corvo heard footsteps and the sound of the now-conversation faded away.

    Al¡¯Corvo lifted his right hind-arm, and merely stared blankly at the damage. From the elbow down his arm was no longer recognizable as his. For one, the shell was much paler in colouration, more like a slightly bluish-white than the pastel blues of the rest of his body. Lifting his other hind-arm, he noticed that his new one was at least 3 centimetres shorter. Gazing down at his chest, he saw a neat crater of exoskeleton where he was punched. Luckily for him, he had just recently molted, and the blow was along the part of the exoskeleton that became the hardest after molting. If he were hit by a similar blow anywhere else the damage might have been serious. Instead he just got a crater.

    <hr>

    Al¡¯Corvo was now waiting in the lobby of the hospital. Apparently it was nighttime, as the lights outside now only flickered with a dim glow. He was waiting for the clerk to arrange for some forms and various drugs to assist in the successful regeneration of his arm. It was explained to him by a doctor that while the flesh and nerves were there and indeed connected, his mind still didn¡¯t quite recognise the arm as a part of itself. With a few¡­ mild hallucinogenic pills (the clerk assured Al''Corvo with the knowledge that the hallucinations were only a side effect) and bedrest, he should be good as new. The ectoplasm would also help.

    While he waited, he simply looked forlornly at the outside street. To say he was a mess emotionally would be putting it lightly. Having his arm ripped off was bad, but the realisation that he could never perform his job again disturbed him on a deep level. Work was what helped him get up in the morning, indeed it was not too much of a stretch to say that his work was the thing that kept him sane. Everyone had something to keep themselves going in dire times. Friends. Family. A good drink, or perhaps other exotic substances. Al¡¯Corvo relied on his moral debt to keep him going.

    ¡°To provide and serve is a citizen¡¯s duty. To protect and uphold is the duty of the state.¡± That statement was one drilled into Al¡¯Corvo by his parents. To ensure his survival, he needed to work and provide even his own life. That lack of personal freedom was the currency he used in exchange for protection, without it he solemnly believed he was less than nothing. Not worthy of survival. The contract, as his father referred to it as, was all Al¡¯Corvo cared about once he left his home.

    He didn¡¯t even realise he had said the statement out loud until he heard a rasping cough right next to his ear.

    ¡°Fucking roots!¡± he yelled before turning to see a heavily bandaged Il¡¯Nok. He could barely see her raw and bloody skin beneath the layers upon layers of gauze. Her eyes still shone with mischief, although there were also hints of pain in her green eyes.

    When she finally spoke, it was an irritated, scratchy tone that came out instead of her normally smooth and click-filled speech.

    ¡°Sorry Al¡¯Corvo. I just¡­¡± she coughed loudly and grimaced, ¡°thought you looked lonely. I heard about the damage. Are you going to be okay?¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo had to grab his broken hind-arm in order to stare at his palm.

    ¡°Probably not. At this point I¡¯m fucked. What can I do now? Arm¡¯s useless, I¡¯m a liability on missions due to my seraph-forsaken temper and I¡¯m going to be kicked out of the Wards.¡±

    Il¡¯Nok raised a finger to her chin as if in thought, before saying, ¡°you know you can come back right? As an evocatus? You will be honorably discharged, in fact you will probably get a military diploma.¡±

    ¡°What use would I be? I can¡¯t bear my own weight anymore. Fucking useless engee I am. Besides, what are you going to do? You¡¯re in the same boat as me. Wouldn¡¯t be surprised if your carapace was completely fucked.¡±

    Il¡¯Nok simply laughed, ¡°firstly, stop with the swearing. Secondly, I am being assigned to one of the inner squads. I can¡¯t tell you much ¡®cept for the name, which is the Rameel Squad.¡±

    ¡°¡®Thunder of God¡¯, if I¡¯m remembering correctly. The sixth of the Seraphim leaders, worshipped by those who desire truth,¡± Al¡¯Corvo recalled with little interest in his tone.

    ¡°You know about the Seraphim Church?¡± A remnant of the old world, the Seraphim Church was shunned due to its connection to the apocalyptic entities, the seraphs. Depending on where you lived, even knowing one of the names of the Seraphim leaders would end in your corpse being found in the garbage.

    ¡°My grandma was obsessive. She refused to believe that they would turn on us. She made sure to teach me the names of each leader. Roots she even gave me the seraph-damned cane if I mispronounced one syllable. I won¡¯t say I¡¯m glad she was killed by a mob, but I will say that I don¡¯t miss her.¡±

    ¡°Roots Al¡¯Corvo. That¡¯s harsh.¡±

    ¡°So was the cane.¡±

    The two story snatchers were silent for a moment, before laughing at the poor attempt at a joke.

    ¡°Thanks Il¡¯Nok. I appreciate the chat.¡± Al¡¯Corvo heard the ringing of a bell along with a call of his name. The paperwork had been gathered along with the drugs. Walking up to the front desk he quietly collected the supplies before going onto the cold streets.

    He couldn¡¯t wait to get home and get some rest. He hadn¡¯t had a proper, normal rest in days. Comas, as it turned out, didn¡¯t help too much with fatigue.

 Chapter 9: Those Who are Possessed

    A soft thump echoed through Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s silent apartment. Having just climbed up to his door, Al¡¯Corvo was completely exhausted. While normally the trek would¡¯ve perhaps left him slightly winded, his inability to climb up the various ladders and walls smoothly exerted him more than he cared to admit. Just because it was theoretically possible for someone to permanently lose an arm (even with ectoplasm treatments), it didn¡¯t mean that Raqmu had any disability access.

    Once again, instead of cleaning up the various dishes and music cartridges, Al¡¯Corvo jumped onto a hammock that he used instead of a bed. A hammock, according to Al¡¯Corvo, was the ultimate form of sleep-facilitating furniture. For one, it was cheap, and for two, it took up relatively little space as it hovered about 1 metre off the ground. 1 whole metre of space that could be used to store various bits and pieces.

    Almost the instant he landed, Al¡¯Corvo dropped the pills and papers onto a small shelf underneath his hammock, before pulling up the blanket piled at the foot of the hammock to cover his weary body. Of course, story snatcher¡¯s didn¡¯t strictly feel the cold as they were mostly poikilothermic. If exposed to particularly cold temperatures, their metabolism simply slowed down before finally falling into a hibernation state. Instead, the blanket simulated the cramped and warm conditions the story snatchers originally came from.

    Once fully covered but for the head, Al¡¯Corvo lazily dangled an arm downwards and grabbed the hallucinogenic pill. He quickly consumed it, before settling down into a resting position.

    In but a few minutes Al¡¯Corvo felt something akin to eels slithering up his leg. Not that he had ever seen or felt an eel, but something told him that that¡¯s what it felt like. Peeking underneath the covers, he saw nothing there. The sensation stopped. Then, he heard whispers in his left ear-hole. What they were saying, he couldn¡¯t guess. When he payed attention to the whispers, he saw technicolour hands, almost like oil stains, crawl up his vision. The walls themselves began warping, with dozens of hands reaching out to grab Al¡¯Corvo.

    <hr>

    Al¡¯Corvo found himself standing upright, gazing at an endless expanse of ruined buildings and red trees. In the distance he saw a tower that reached into the heavens, it looked as though it was made of dozens of other skyscrapers, meshed together by some unknown force. Surrounding it were barely-visible walls made of what appeared to be some sort of sandstone-like material.

    ¡°My home. Is it not grand? It was restored not too long ago. Just as the centurions came to roost.¡± Al¡¯Corvo heard an almost wistful voice coming from behind him.

    Al¡¯Corvo turned to see another story snatcher, although there were a few things that were clearly wrong. Firstly, their body was almost a translucent greenish-blue that shimmered like an aurora. Secondly, their hind-arms were bound by tight metal restraints. The figure almost looked familiar, but Al¡¯Corvo couldn¡¯t place where he had seen this person before.

    The story snatcher turned to face him.

    ¡°You have killed me, although it is not the first time I have died. Now you too will fall, and I will rise anew. Such is our fate, to rise again and again, seeking that which we cannot have.¡± The story snatcher looked unsympathetically at Al¡¯Corvo, although there was still a hint of pain in his eyes.

    ¡°You mean to possess me?¡± Al¡¯Corvo spoke in a dull monotone, the emotion having apparently disappeared entirely from his body.

    ¡°Yes. I am the one who is real. You shall be the one who is unreal. You will become Me, as did the body before you.¡±

    ¡°False. Total reality levels > 30%. Designation: Al¡¯Corvo has a total reality level of ¡Ý 70%. You cannot be more real than Al¡¯Corvo.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo turned again to see who spoke, only to see himself. Although, unlike Al¡¯Corvo the reflection was made from rough polyhedrons and polygons, without a single curve on its entire body.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Al¡¯Corvo looked and felt half awake at this point, he felt his rational thought leave him as the logic of dreams flooded into his mind.

    ¡°I am the you that is referred to as Logos.¡± Logos, as it called itself, spoke in a pure monotone.

    ¡°Your mind fights back, but surely it doesn¡¯t need to? Your arm is gone, you are useless. Surely it would be better off dying?¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo took a step back, barely aware that he was moving, before a chessboard appeared where he was but a moment ago. Two chairs manifested soon afterwards, causing ripples in the silken sand beneath Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s feet. When exactly the concrete turned to sand, Al¡¯Corvo wasn¡¯t sure.

    Logos took a seat on the black side, before moving a pawn. As he did so, he spoke once more.

    ¡°The arm has not sustained major damage. Removed does not equal lost permanently. If you believe Al¡¯Corvo will be rendered useless, or otherwise unable to perform his duties, you are incorrect.¡±

    As he spoke, the pieces seemed to move on their own, skipping forward and warping into place instantaneously. The ghost, or Me, as Al¡¯Corvo began thinking of it as, was losing.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Perhaps. But of course what if the arm never moves again? His brain will have sealed this memory off, it will never even remember losing an arm. He will be left crippled.¡±

    The white pieces suddenly moved more strategically, taking Logos¡¯ pieces precisely and without hesitation. Logos simply stared with polygonal eyes, taking in the board as though it was a book, reading every move and thinking about his next action. Logos then turned to Al¡¯Corvo before speaking again.

    ¡°Yet he is here again. This would be impossible if he never remembered this encounter. Your logic is flawed.¡±

    The black pieces moved again, driving the white side into check again and again, moving ever closer to checkmate. Al¡¯Corvo couldn¡¯t be sure if the drugs were altering his memory, or if he was somehow sent back to the original possession attempt.

    ¡°Both, not-Me. Reality is distorted by our kind, it breaks and frays with ease. The doors of the underworld have swung open because of this fact. Time becomes irrelevant as quickly as space after all.¡± Me stated simply, although the strained look on its face spoke to the amount of effort it took to protect against Logos¡¯ advances. Looking back, Al¡¯Corvo could even see his reattached arm.

    ¡°You have lost. I detect a minor decrease in your reality levels.¡± Logos spoke with surety.

    ¡°Hmmm. This is a tricky position,¡± Me deliberated as to which piece he would move, before finally settling on moving his final bishop. ¡°However, there is also the fact that you would no longer be able to fulfill your contract yes? If you are crippled, you will no longer be able to work for the state. You will become-¡±

    Me was cut off by Logos.

    ¡°You are now appealing to Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s emotional state. You have acknowledged that on a logical level, you cannot make a proper argument for why Al¡¯Corvo must die. Checkmate.¡± As he said that, Logos moved his rook, causing a checkmate. The board disappeared.

    ¡°You refuse to acknowledge my point, my dear Logos. Perhaps because you know I am right?¡± A smug smile formed on Me¡¯s face as he talked.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong!¡± Al¡¯Corvo heard a passionate voice yell out, one that was oddly familiar. As he looked upon the new arrival, he determined that it was familiar because he was looking at himself. Seemingly the direct opposite of Logos, this version of Al¡¯Corvo didn¡¯t have a single straight line on his body. It gave this newcomer an almost fluid look, like they were made of pastel-blue water rather than flesh and chitin.

    ¡°And who are you?¡± Al¡¯Corvo almost felt a rhythm arise from within him. Like everything in this world of dreams had rules that tightly bound him to the point that he didn¡¯t even need to think about them. The appropriate rule simply appeared in his mind when he needed it. One of the first rules was to always question new arrivals, lest they be something uninvited.

    ¡°I am the you that is known as Pathos,¡± unlike Logos, Pathos introduced himself with a flourish.

    ¡°A new challenger? Of the five bodies I have possessed, most fall to their feelings of uselessness. You must have a strong will to defeat me with Logos. Of course, that doesn¡¯t change your predicament. I will become real once more. I will become real!¡± As it said the last sentence, Me gained a rabid look in its eyes.

    Instead of a game, Pathos manifested a sword made of glass, while Me simply made two daggers out of sand. Al¡¯Corvo understood that in a battle of emotions, it was not suitable to play a game, it was only acceptable to fight.

    Pathos lunged, and Al¡¯Corvo felt boiling sand spray across his shell. Me responded in kind with the twin daggers, both curved impractically. Yet it wielded them with the sort of skill gained only with years of practice and various life-or-death situations.

    ¡°You cannot win Pathos! For it was in the gladiatorial pits of Remus that I fought, and with these daggers I won!¡±

    Pathos merely strained his face with the effort of the fight, as Me had the clear advantage. Of course, the fight wasn¡¯t fought with skill, but emotion. Al¡¯Corvo knew that Remus had fallen millennia ago, so Me had thousands of years to build up its emotions.

    ¡°But then you lost yes? You fell when your arms were bound, when you were at the height of your career no?¡± With a sudden parry of Me¡¯s blows, Pathos performed a perfect riposte that forced Me into the defensive.

    ¡°At least I died doing what I loved! Instead, Al¡¯Corvo, you will fall having failed your only duty. You could never be a merchant, nor could you do any labour as no one would accept you with a crippled arm. You are worthless, would it not be better to die here than face your failure alive?¡± Me was once again smug in the knowledge that it had Al¡¯Corvo in the place that hurt the deepest.

    Pathos staggered back, suddenly surprised by a feint that transitioned into a biting blow. Al¡¯Corvo was not a man who was fueled by emotions. He didn¡¯t have anything else to draw on other than his will to survive. Even that seemed to drain at the ghost¡¯s words.

    Al¡¯Corvo watched as Pathos¡¯ glass sword shattered against Me¡¯s daggers. Before Me could deliver the finishing blow, Al¡¯Corvo stepped forward.

    ¡°You are forgetting one thing ghost. I have a new role in this tale, for I will hunt you and your kin. The terms of my contract may be re-written, for unlike the great walls of Babylon they are not of stone.¡± Al¡¯Corvo held in his hands a Ward man-catcher, and he plunged the mace into Me¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Now return to the land of the dead, fade into obscurity once more like the rest of your kind.¡± With that, Me began crumbling into shards of metal. Looking around, Al¡¯Corvo noticed that but a few metres away was another Al¡¯Corvo, only he was still missing his arm.

    ¡°Seraphs above, will I become a pretentious prick in the future?¡± The other Al¡¯Corvo almost looked concerned.

    ¡°Not really, I¡¯m only a few days older than you. For some reason this whole dream thing forces you to say words in a certain way.¡± Al¡¯Corvo smiled at the thought of potentially talking to his actual past-self.

    ¡°No problem, I get that. I think you¡¯re about to wake up now. Good luck with the Wards by the way. Will I remember this?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. At least until you take some drugs given to you by the hospital.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo suddenly woke up.

 Chapter 10: Echoes of Kin

    Al¡¯Corvo woke up, surprised to see sunlight trickling into his apartment. He must have forgotten to close the curtains. Compared to the darkness of the prior day, Al¡¯Corvo had to blink a few times before his eyes finally stopped ¡®closing¡¯ (unfocusing to the point of blinding itself) automatically.

    Taking care of the various household tasks, of which there were many, Al¡¯Corvo realised that it was already at least noon. Poking his head outside, Al¡¯Corvo was firstly greeted by a light shower that coated his face in freezing water. Then he saw the sun, still hiding behind an overcast sky, directly overhead.

    Al¡¯Corvo was distracted when he heard a loud clanking knock on his door. He tried shuffling over to the door before his legs gave in under him. The clanking continued.

    ¡°Just a minute! I¡¯ve been in hospital for a few days dickhead!¡± Al¡¯Corvo yelled, roughly grabbing at nearby furniture in order to pull himself up. The knocking stopped. Al¡¯Corvo heard a chalky whistling noise coming from the balcony outside his door.

    When he got his legs working, Al¡¯Corvo finally opened the door to see Al¡¯Shor without his armour. He was wearing simple linen clothes, although he still had a gauntlet on his hand. Rather than waiting for an invitation, Al¡¯Shor immediately walked in, sitting himself on the couch.

    ¡°Al¡¯Shor.¡± Al¡¯Corvo had an icy tone.

    ¡°Hi Al¡¯Corvo, heard you were out of the hospital, so I decided to pay a visit.¡± Al¡¯Shor was cheery as always, and began looking around the apartment with an almost sudden interest. ¡°Oh yeah, by the way you can call me Shor you know. I ¡®ave zero clues as to why you lot stick to those¡­ what''s the word?¡±

    ¡°Honorifics.¡± Al¡¯Corvo began subtly grinding his mouth-plates together.

    ¡°Yeah, those. Don¡¯t see why you need ¡®em in the first place really.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo took a seat at a nearby desk covered in old tapes and cartridges. ¡°I assume you¡¯re a foreigner then. I suppose they¡¯re not technically important, but it¡¯s more about how familiar you are with the other person. And I am not familiar with you.¡±

    ¡°Well firstly, I was born in Raqmu, though my ma and pa came from Byzantine. Secondly, what do you mean we¡¯re not familiar?¡± Al¡¯Shor feigned shock.

    Al¡¯Corvo sighed, before loudly grinding his mouth-plates. ¡°Well firstly, yes I know you and are okay with talking to you. However. That is only in a professional setting. What I am not okay with,¡± Al¡¯Corvo moved his chair closer to Al¡¯Shor, ¡°is someone barging into my fucking house a day after I come back from a crippling injury.¡±

    Al¡¯Shor began to speak but Al¡¯Corvo quickly cut him off.

    ¡°I am also not okay with you using my name without the honorific. As I¡¯ve said before, you use it, or you don¡¯t fucking say my name at all!¡± Al¡¯Corvo shouted. ¡°Also, why the fuck didn¡¯t you just call me? I know a Ward like you probably has a phone plugged in, and you should damn-well know that an electrician of all people has a fucking phone! So why, pray-tell, didn¡¯t you just fucking call me?! LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!¡± Al¡¯Corvo was screaming at this point.

    ¡°Roots Al¡¯Corvo, calm down man. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Al¡¯Shor looked dejected. ¡°I just wanted to see you. You considered how shitty it felt seeing you come out on a stretcher? Besides, I was only going to ask you to come down to the pub with me and two of my friends.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo had his head downcast. At this point he was feeling the slightest bit of regret. Well, no point backing down now, he thought.

    ¡°Just¡­ leave, Shor. Please. I¡¯ve had a rough time if you couldn¡¯t tell. Next time just call yeah?¡± Al¡¯Corvo sounded precisely as he felt. Tired, hurt and overall like he had just had his arm torn off a day after having his ribs bashed in.

    His head was still low when he heard the click of the door shutting. Al¡¯Corvo got up and moved the chair back to the desk it belonged to. Looking at the scattered cartridges, Al¡¯Corvo thought the best thing to do was to bury his head in work.

    Sitting down at the desk, Al¡¯Corvo opened a draw to find several tightly wound, but messily arrayed music tapes, without cases. At the foot of the desk were several other tapes, but instead of being properly wound were instead messily tangled together. Al¡¯Corvo set a mental reminder to remove them later. Pulling out one of the smaller pieces of tape, which only had about 4 minutes of audio, Al¡¯Corvo opened another draw and took out a pair of small scissors and some glue. Finally, he pulled forward a small cartridge player from the back of the desk, and popped out the empty cartridge.

    Most of the various music tapes that were around his apartment were actually his own custom edits of various songs he produced. He had two small analogue synthesizers on a nearby, small table. One of them had an attached keyboard, while the other was primarily used for creating sound effects. After recording something on the first synthesizer, he would mess around with the audio by adding sound effects on the second one while playing the original tape back. When he finally had both recorded, he would then physically splice them together with scissors and glue. The process was lengthy to be sure, but it produced interesting results and a unique sound that could only be made by combining two tapes rather than recording the two in tandem. Of course, it also produced ¡®interesting¡¯ results, as the clumped tapes at his feet attested to.

    Again, the process of creating a single tape took months of work, even discounting the process of writing the song itself. However, that was precisely the reason Al¡¯Corvo did it. In between his jobs, he found that a quiet, time-consuming task took his mind off of the stress. Besides, the other choices he had for leisure weren¡¯t exactly broad either. It was either gambling, drinking, maybe even dueling or more esoteric pursuits.

    Banishing outside thoughts, Al¡¯Corvo focused on the music, trying to figure out the best ways to combine the effects and melody together.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    <hr>

    Time flew by. Al¡¯Corvo had been hunched over his desk for hours, with fingers constantly stopping and starting the tape he was working on. If his eyes could have had shadows, they would¡¯ve. This was because despite waking up but a few hours earlier, his recent recovery made even simple tasks like pushing buttons and snipping (before subsequently gluing) tapes a herculean effort.

    Tiredly looking at the clock above his desk, Al¡¯Corvo realised it was 10 to 9pm.

    ¡°It¡¯s getting late,¡± Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s stomach growled, ¡°should probably eat something. Food if I¡¯m lucky.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo stumbled over to the kitchen, forgetting to turn the light on. Opening various cupboards and the fridge, all he found were old bully beef tins, hardtack, canned fruit and a single D ration, dated to approximately 1948 B.A (Al¡¯Corvo had heard once that it stood for Before Apocalypse), which made it a whopping 170 years old.

    ¡°Great choices as ever,¡± Al¡¯Corvo mumbled before grabbing some bully beef. While normally meat needed to be grinded up a bit before becoming edible, this particular brand of¡­ what could only be roughly called ¡®food¡¯ was finely minced beef suspended in gelatin. The end product was a meaty brick with white chunks suspended in it, which while disgusting, was better than whatever the government put into their ¡®nutrient bars¡¯.

    Al¡¯Corvo cracked open the oblong-shaped can with a clawed hand, retching at the ghastly scent that emerged from the century-old can, which didn¡¯t even have a label due to its age. Al¡¯Corvo was, at least slightly, annoyed that he didn¡¯t know who to blame for creating such a dreadful product. Usually he sustained himself on canned fruits, old jam and the occasional can of spam if he was unlucky. However due to the however-many days he was in hospital, Al¡¯Corvo hadn¡¯t managed to get any shopping done.

    Al¡¯Corvo shoved the bully beef into an old microwave and roughly closed the door, grateful to finally be rid of the rancid meat. The weirdest part about it was how it looked completely fine. Apparently it and the D ration ¡®chocolate¡¯ were recovered from a radioactive ruin, so they were heavily marked down. Safe, apparently, but certainly not delicious.

    Al¡¯Corvo decided to offset the meat with some of the D ration. Grabbing his sharpest knife and a grinding stone (for the tougher, and more solid foods), Al¡¯Corvo began turning the ration from a brick into something edible. The knife wasn¡¯t quite sharp enough however, as it quickly got stuck half-way through the bar of chocolate. Al¡¯Corvo decided to try and break the rest off with his hands, but even with all four hands the bar wouldn¡¯t break. Al¡¯Corvo got the knife out of the brick and began roughly hacking at the bar, finally managing to break off a small piece of the chocolate bar. Al¡¯Corvo re-wrapped the rest of the D ration and shoved it into his pantry before getting the now-warmed bully beef tin.

    Suffice to say that Al¡¯Corvo preferred spam or even the basic pancakes that in all honesty could be considered a war-crime any day over the absolutely disgusting meat. Being a man who wasted nothing however Al¡¯Corvo swallowed the corned beef without vomiting.

    Running over to the sink, Al¡¯Corvo washed his mouth out with the slightly rusty water, before grabbing the nearby chunk of chocolate and immediately stifling a scream as his mouth-plates slammed against the brick-like food. Spitting out the chocolate lump, Al¡¯Corvo grasped for the grinding stone with his healing hind-arm, causing another round of cursing, and then slammed the stone onto the bar. After a minute of grinding, the piece of chocolate was still in its original shape, although cracks had formed throughout its structure. Popping the piece into his mouth, Al¡¯Corvo was pleasantly surprised to find that it didn¡¯t taste like absolute shit.

    After sitting down for a few moments to let the whole meal go through his system, Al¡¯Corvo heard a ringing noise coming from his living room. Walking over to the room he found that the noise was his phone going off. It was an older model, based on the few surviving telephone booths that were somehow recovered by the Immunes. This meant that unlike the newer models which could be plugged into any outlet that could support the city-wide telecommunication network, Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s phone was stuck into the wall.

    Picking up the dated handset, Al¡¯Corvo accepted the call.

    ¡°Hello, Al¡¯Corvo Silksmith here.¡± Al¡¯Corvo replied with slight trepidation, as he usually only received calls that told him where a malfunction had occurred or that he had (somehow) forgotten to fully file his taxes.

    A gruff voice responded, ¡°greetings, this is Al¡¯Born representing the Wards here. Firstly, we require confirmation that you are indeed Al¡¯Corvo Silksmith, either your job ID or social security number will do.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo, who in his journeyman days had to constantly give out his Worker¡¯s ID, automatically responded, ¡°my Worker¡¯s ID is as follows, ¡®1109BD98¡¯.¡± Al¡¯Corvo made sure to say each number slowly for the benefit of the Ward on the other side.

    The following minutes were filled with constant tapping and clacking as the Ward bureaucrat typed away at their decrepit computer. Finally he spoke again.

    ¡°Okay Al¡¯Corvo, everything checks out. I am currently calling to inform you that as of today, all workers of the rank conscriptus have been honourably discharged under orders of the praetorian. Now, of course you can rejoin the Wards with the rank evocatus, however that¡¯s going to require a bit of paperwork on your end.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo pondered for a moment, ¡°say if I were to re-enlist, what would be required of me?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately I cannot disclose everything since the training will be different for each person due to everyone¡¯s¡­ unique circumstances, however I can tell you that due to certain time constraints you will receive training for seven days at most.¡± The Ward sounded tired and overworked. They had probably made dozens of calls before ringing up Al¡¯Corvo.

    ¡°Do I get any time to think on it?¡±

    ¡°Not really no, again, time constraints.¡± The Ward was becoming increasingly annoyed.

    Al¡¯Corvo whispered, ¡°fuck it, why not,¡± before saying louder, ¡°sure. When will I should I expect the paperwork?¡±

    ¡°Sometime tomorrow. Have a good night Al¡¯Corvo, good luck in the Wards.¡± The last line sounded rehearsed and, at this time of night, completely fake.

    The phone clicked, and Al¡¯Corvo shuffled his way over to his hammock, before collapsing in a heap onto the springy surface. It would be surprising for others to learn how taxing it was to work on music. It certainly didn¡¯t help Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s dorsal plate, which functioned somewhat as a spine in its more structural aspects.

    As Al¡¯Corvo lay on the hammock, he felt pain in his hind-arm begin to flare up again. Bringing the regrown limb up to the soft moonlight that filtered through dirt-stained windows, Al¡¯Corvo really took in the sight of the injury. The once pastel shell had turned into a sickly and pallid blue, and his dexterous fingers had become slightly longer, but much thinner. Overall the limb had become what could only be considered a mockery of what used to be a pristine example of story snatcher dexterity and grace.

    Al¡¯Corvo wasn¡¯t one to be caught up in what-ifs or the potential long-term consequences of his actions, but as he stared at his arm, he did have to think, ¡°how much more will I lose?¡±

    As he slept, a single, gentle whisper echoed in the back of his mind, and the word it said was simple.

    ¡°Kin.¡±

 Chapter 11: Armed and Ready

    Al¡¯Corvo woke up, looking up he saw the clock read 10:30 in the morning. Despite over twelve hours of sleep, he still felt weary and fatigued, his mind plagued by nightmares and whispers that quickly faded away upon waking. Groaning, Al¡¯Corvo crawled out of his hammock and immediately flopped onto the floor, causing a burst of curses and wakefulness in equal measure. One of the few things Al¡¯Corvo missed from his youth spent in Babylon was his bed, which was so low to the ground (due to a lack of wood) that he could simply roll out and stand up.

    Walking over to his door, Al¡¯Corvo saw the daily newspaper had been slipped through along with a small stack of papers, tightly bound by string with a cover sheet that simply had a bright red ¡®CLASSIFIED¡¯ stamp.

    ¡°These must be the Ward forms then,¡± Al¡¯Corvo muttered to himself. Opening the door to look for any proper packaged, he was also pleasantly surprised to find his weekly government-funded MRE package. Being a government worker had its perks. Even better, it appeared that the meals had been made recently rather than being scavenged, potentially radioactive goods.

    Al¡¯Corvo moved back to the kitchen, newspaper clutched in his left hind-hand and the Ward forms in the right. The box of MREs only contained around nine or so pouches, equivalent to three days worth of meals, but Al¡¯Corvo always made sure to make them last by only eating one or two per day. Somewhere along the way Al¡¯Corvo had managed to worm his way into the good graces of the guys who shipped the boxes by fixing their stuff free of charge. This meant that while he still couldn¡¯t choose what he got, he had access to the military menu. The ethics of essentially stealing military supplies from the Immunes wasn¡¯t something Al¡¯Corvo concerned himself with.

    There were many benefits of having access to the military menu. For starters, the army had a wider array of ¡®menus¡¯ to choose from. While the average joe was stuck with around five different meals, the Immunes had access to eleven. Another benefit was the composition of the food itself. While the civilian MREs were freeze-dried for a longer shelf life, the Immunes were often only out for a few months at a time, meaning their rations could be made of less preserved foodstuffs. In the end this produced food that, while still mildly gross, tasted better than cardboard, which in turn was infinitely more appetising than the nutrient bars.

    Al¡¯Corvo slowly prepared his favourite MRE menu, number seven, still half-asleep. While he waited for the flameless heater to warm up the pulverized brisket and potato, Al¡¯Corvo sat down at his tiny dinner table and read the newspaper. The important bits were on the first few pages, and mostly covered basic stuff. Underground Sector 13 had a mass power outage, the Wards publicly announced their plans to intercept the Labyrinth, standard affairs in the grand scheme of things. Al¡¯Corvo checked the MRE, noting that it was ready.

    <hr>

    Al¡¯Corvo had spent at least two hours travelling to Sector 1. As it turned out, the Wards required the completed enlistment forms to be delivered personally, which meant a solid ten kilometre trek from Sector 8, through Sector 2 before finally arriving at Sector 1. Al¡¯Corvo was also coated in sweat from the midday sun, and a thin layer of snowmelt made each step a slog. Aside from the occasional soldier, the sector seemed empty and abandoned.

    Running along the entirety of Sector 1 was the Promenade of the Fallen, a large road paved with intricately cut stone that was flanked with various Ward and Immunes heroes. Interestingly, the Wards depicted all sported a long feather on their helmets, a tradition Al¡¯Corvo assumed was no longer adhered to. He had never seen a bird that could produce a feather that big (assuming the statues were to scale). From one of the only history lessons Al¡¯Corvo payed attention to, he knew that the Wards had been around in story snatcher culture in one form or another since the species had crawled from the jungle. Hell the profession even survived the thousand-year dark age. Why the Wards existed prior to the ghostly menace Al¡¯Corvo wasn¡¯t too sure.

    In the centre of the promenade was a large, circular plaza. Dominating the centre of the plaza was a massive bronze statue of what Al¡¯Corvo presumed to be an ancient praetorian, a hero whose deeds were lost to time and were all but unknown except to those who witnessed them. Instead of the traditional mancatcher, the statue wielded a gladius-like sword and had a crescent-shaped blade at their belt.

    To his left Al¡¯Corvo saw a truly massive marble building, expertly carved so that the entire structure looked to be made of one block of marble rather than several. Large marble pillars surrounded the circular structure, with the top and bottom of each blending perfectly into the floor and roof. Finally, each column was decorated with elaborate blue tapestries that were covered in angular, geometric patterns. The entrance of the building were two large gnarled wooden doors made of some dark, rich wood. Al¡¯Corvo hadn¡¯t seen wood used for construction since it was rare around Raqmu, and pretty much everywhere else nearby. Unless you wanted date wood or almond wood, but either options were a waste of good food. With a struggle, Al¡¯Corvo managed to open the thick doors. A loud creak echoed throughout the empty hall.

    The inside of the Ward HQ was almost sombre in its beauty. Much like the outside, the hall was regularly lined with massive marble pillars that extended at least twenty metres into the roof. The carved stone floor of the promenade quickly faded into blue pearl granite which sparkled dimly in the soft glow of fluorescent lights that were attached to each pillar. In between every few columns was a named statue of a hero, all of which were long gone. Only one caught Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s eye, an exquisitely carved wooden statue of a spear-wielding story snatcher fashioned in an angular style. The inscription simply read,

    ¡°Soleer, the Garden¡¯s Bane

    May he find his way back from Eden¡¯s Grasp¡±

    The hall, despite its vastness and beauty, was almost completely devoid of life. The only sign of life outside of Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s feet clicking on the stone was a staccato clacking of an old keyboard. Occasionally, a muffled curse would also disturb the otherwise tranquil atmosphere.

    After a minute or so of slowly walking through the grand entrance hall, Al¡¯Corvo found himself in the reception area. It was as grand as everything else, at least fifty metres in diameter and with walls covered in elaborate tapestries dedicated to the history of the Wards. A massive hexagonal basalt pillar dominated the centre of the room. Beneath the pillar was where Al¡¯Corvo found the source of the tapping noise.

    Compared to the rest of the room, the simple, ringed steel and plastic desk was almost pitiful. On the long desk were several stacks of papers along with three computers that were drilled onto the desktop. Unlike the bulky, off-white machines Al¡¯Corvo was used to, these computers were thinner, black models. Al¡¯Corvo felt his left hand twitch, as if wanting to rip open the more advanced machines to see what lay within.

    Of the three computers, only one was manned, casting a blue glow against the black pillar behind the desk. A single, hunched over story snatcher sat behind the computer, and if their kind was capable of it, they would¡¯ve had dark bags beneath their many eyes. The clerk looked up, saw Al¡¯Corvo and rapidly blinked a few times before straightening up.

    ¡°And you would be?¡± The clerk spoke slowly, with a hint of trepidation.

    ¡°Al¡¯Corvo Silksmith, I¡¯m here to drop off some enlistment forms.¡± Al¡¯Corvo winced ever-so-slightly at saying his full name, mainly because of the connotations behind the Silksmith family name. Luckily he was only from what could be considered a cadet branch of the illustrious family. Most people realised that when Al¡¯Corvo showed a complete lack of knowledge when it came to the matters of merchantry and commerce.

    The clerk suppressed a slight groan, before saying, ¡°okay, just drop the forms here,¡± he gestured to an empty part of the desk, ¡°and I¡¯ll get back to you this afternoon. Come here at about six or so to receive your gear. Training begins tomorrow.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo carefully placed the forms on the empty space, before leaving the empty building. As he left, Al¡¯Corvo wondered if the Ward HQ was always as empty as it was when he visited it.

    <hr>

    Al¡¯Corvo returned to the HQ at six as instructed. At night that promenade had become much more active, with Wards filtering in and out of the great building. Al¡¯Corvo saw lamplighters ignite braziers that lay scattered along the promenade, bathing the whole sector in a warm glow. Looking at the far end of the promenade, which almost directly connected to the eastern gate (if you went through the relatively straight path that ran along Sector 14), Al¡¯Corvo saw the silhouettes of what appeared to be Immunes. As they entered the roaring fire¡¯s light, Al¡¯Corvo could almost see the relief that painted their faces.

    Al¡¯Corvo fell in line with the rest of the Wards, following the gentle flow of bodies through the massive entrance hall before walking up to the now fully manned reception desk. Most of the paperwork from earlier was gone, instead replaced various ID cards arranged in neat piles that the clerks were scanning. Even the Wards weren¡¯t immune to the grinding gears of bureaucracy. It seemed that they followed the same procedures Al¡¯Corvo faced in the Electrician¡¯s Union, meaning that every worker needed to clock in and out as to accurately record their work hours. This was to ensure that a government worker couldn¡¯t slack off and reap the rewards of working for the city. Al¡¯Corvo joined the somewhat lengthy line for the clerk.

    After about five or so minutes, Al¡¯Corvo stepped towards the reception desk, and came face to face with an exhausted-looking Ward. The work schedules must¡¯ve been brutal for the chair-bound Wards to have constantly looked fatigued and stressed.

    ¡°Hello, my name is Al¡¯Corvo Silksmith, I¡¯m here to receive equipment.¡± Al¡¯Corvo spoke carefully, not entirely sure if that was specifically what he was after.

    The clerk quickly typed away at her computer while simultaneously scanning Ward ID cards, making sure everyone had put in their proper hours. The screen illuminated the clerk¡¯s shell in a pallid blue light, directly contrasting with the black granite pillar behind her.

    ¡°Just quickly checked our files, and yes you are due for some new kit. I also have your training schedule up. Due to time constraints you will only get one week, but you will be trained by the best we have to offer along with your fellow supports. Training begins tomorrow at five am, got that?¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Al¡¯Corvo nodded, before quickly adding, ¡°um, where exactly do I go to get my gear?¡±

    The clerk swiftly pointed to her left, ¡°just go down the corridor, take the third right. Al¡¯Thim should meet you in the armoury.¡± As soon as Al¡¯Corvo moved towards the armoury, another fully armoured Ward rushed forward to take his place at the desk, eager to get home.

    The corridor, much like the grand reception area and entrance hall, was lit up by several buzzing fluorescent lights. Unlike the shoddily placed lamps in the halls however, these lights were properly placed fixtures placed at even intervals, bathing the whole corridor in a uniform white glow. After opening up a bulky, steel pressure door (Al¡¯Corvo took a good minute or so trying to turn the plug-like wheel), the marble walls and granite floor abruptly turned into fortified stone and concrete.

    Unlike the entrance hall, the corridor was completely empty, only the constant buzzing of the lights and the clicking of Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s clawed feet on the concrete floor gave any indication of life. The first right turn was simply labelled ¡®Offices¡¯ while the second was left unlabelled. The third right-hand turn was labelled ¡®Armoury¡¯, and was protected by yet another bulky pressure door. Why the Wards used pressure doors to begin with Al¡¯Corvo wasn¡¯t sure, but if he had to guess it was probably because they were durable and Raqmu¡¯s old navy certainly wasn¡¯t using them.

    The armoury, as it turned out, was merely a small hall that ended in a stairway that led downwards. The stairs themselves seemed to be part of a much older structure as they were made from roughly carved and smoothly eroded limestone steps. The walls of the cramped stairway were also made of limestone. Indeed the armoury (or at least the area it was built in) must¡¯ve been around long before the Ward headquarters was built, and even longer before the concrete corridor that led to it. Since the limestone steps had become slippery with age, they were covered in corroded iron plates that were drilled into them with rusty screws and nails. The walls of the stairway, it seemed, were unable to support inbuilt wiring so instead a wire-filled pipe ran along the top of the stairway, only opening to feed wires into regularly-placed lights.

    Another thing Al¡¯Corvo noticed was the light fixtures themselves. As there was, presumably, only one pipe bringing electricity into the armoury, the lights had to become more efficient. To that end, the fluorescent lights had been changed into the more efficient high-pressure sodium lights, although instead of a bright glow they bathed the stairs in a mouldy yellow light that made Al¡¯Corvo slightly uneasy.

    The eventual bottom of the stairs opened up slightly into a smooth, limestone tunnel. If Al¡¯Corvo had to once more guess, he would say that the whole armoury must have been built into an old, dried-up aquifer, which would not only explain the small amounts of moisture that pooled at his feet.

    The final barrier to entry was a circular, heavy steel vault door. A telltale grid of wires told Al¡¯Corvo that the whole thing could be electrified if required. The door was slightly ajar, indicating that it was unlocked. After a few failed attempts at pushing the door further open, Al¡¯Corvo elected to just carefully slip through the gap. The slim tunnel that led to the armoury proper widened out into a large, oblate chamber. The stone was the same as the staircase, smoothly eroded limestone, although any moisture had been drained from the armoury, making the whole place hot and dry. Al¡¯Corvo could feel specks of dust sitting on the outer layers of his eyes. With a simple shake of his head, Al¡¯Corvo felt multiple dried and dust-ridden layers of aqueous humor flake off in clear sheets, and new layers of the fluid rose up to take their place.

    The room¡¯s walls were coated in various sets of armour. They ranged widely in shape in size, from simple mail shirts with coifs, to standard Ward armour, to strange and bulky suits that looked more suitable for tanks than men (not that Al¡¯Corvo knew what a tank was). Under the soft and steady glow of the sodium lights, Al¡¯Corvo was unable to tell what colour the suits were, although he just assumed they were the standard dark blue that was the Wards¡¯ signature colour.

    As he moved closer to the tank-like suits, Al¡¯Corvo heard a clicking noise before an awkward cough broke the silence. Turning around, Al¡¯Corvo saw the epitome of the blacksmith stereotype. The story snatcher was wearing a thick leather apron that was coated in scorch-marks and even flecks of slag, along with leather coverings for their feet. Finding good protection for their feet was something most story snatchers who worked precarious positions faced, as their feet were structured more like five long, clawed toes that were splayed out from the ankle.

    From the smith¡¯s belt were several tools including a small hammer, tongs and two bottles filled to the brim with herbal treatments for burns. The blacksmith was still wearing a welding helmet, which made their face look positively alien. The way the matte black helmet covered all of their features and how it covered the smith¡¯s eyes in complete darkness made Al¡¯Corvo slightly unnerved. As the smith moved to take their helmet off, Al¡¯Corvo saw that their hands were coated in scale and slag almost as much as chitin.

    ¡°Sorry to disturb you there, it¡¯s a pretty neato set right? They were made to withstand centurion blows, but uh¡­¡± the smith paused awkwardly, ¡°the funding was cut. It was considered impossible to make something wearable. But hey, if you have the strength of multiple huntsman combined I can hook you up with a suit?¡± The blacksmith chuckled while moving over to Al¡¯Corvo.

    The smith held out their left hind-arm, which was the one that was least likely to cut Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s hand if he shook it. ¡°Al¡¯Thim, you¡¯re Al¡¯Corvo right?¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo shook his hand and nodded.

    ¡°Great! Now I have already been informed on your background, but I¡¯d prefer to hear it from the horse¡¯s mouth. We have a lot of gear here, and I want to make sure everyone receives only the best!¡±

    ¡°I was an electrician, although as you can see my hind-arm can no longer carry heavy loads, such as myself.¡± Al¡¯Corvo spoke in an almost clinical tone.

    Al¡¯Thim began talking once more, but as he talked he began leading Al¡¯Corvo through a side tunnel, whose walls were packed with

    ¡°I was expecting more to it than that, because what you just said was what the bureaucrats already told me¡± Al¡¯Thim sounded slightly disappointed. ¡°However, I must ask: how badly is your hind-arm affected? Because, and this is especially true for someone who can¡¯t handle a man-catcher, being manuevarble is key. You should already know how deadly ghosts are, in fact I¡¯m surprised you took even one out-¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo felt bad as he interrupted Al¡¯Thim. ¡°It can do almost anything it could before, I haven¡¯t really had the time to test its limits. When I lose a limb I don¡¯t immediately begin deadlifting with it you know?¡±

    Al¡¯Thim chuckled, ¡°no I suppose you don¡¯t. Anyways, here¡¯s the support chamber!¡±

    Al¡¯Thim threw his arms wide towards the small chamber at the end of the twisting tunnel the two had walked through. Much like the tunnels and armoury entrance, the support chamber was a small cave that had once contained water and had been cleaned out by ancient Wards. A small weapon rack lay to Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s left, while three bone-white suits of half-plate were at the back of the chamber. Opened crates were also stacked against the walls, filled with wires, bandages and strange bottles whose labels had almost completely peeled off.

    Al¡¯Thim led Al¡¯Corvo over to the suits of armour. ¡°It¡¯s not much, hell I¡¯m not even sure what most of the crated stuff is for, but you won¡¯t find better stuff anywhere else!¡±

    When the pair got to the armour stands, Al¡¯Corvo saw that the material the plates were made out of was nothing he had ever seen before. The metal was, almost literally, shining white and textured like whorled and gnarled wood. It was almost like thousands of worms had been coated in molten metal and had fused together.

    ¡°What is this stuff?¡± Al¡¯Corvo asked.

    ¡°Oh, these sets were my dad¡¯s magnum opus. Wouldn¡¯t you know it, they¡¯re made of centurion bone.¡± Al¡¯Thim beamed at the chance to explain the specifics of armour.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen a centurion before, it looked like it was evaporating. How could there be any bone left? Do centurions even have bone?¡± Al¡¯Corvo, in turn, was curious as to how centurion bone was harvested.

    ¡°All I know is that when a centurion is killed, and the Immunes who did the deed could afford to hang around for a bit, they can see the thing evaporate into steam. However, they leave behind one or two spheres of this stuff,¡± Al¡¯Thim tapped the chestplate of one of the suits, ¡°no one knows what it is so they just call it bone.¡±

    ¡°Curious. Is this what I¡¯m going to be wearing?¡±

    ¡°Yup, one of these sets should fit you. My dad didn¡¯t have much bone so he made three sets of support gear. One for each general build one could expect from a healer or engee. Now let me take a look¡­¡± Al¡¯Thim looked back and forth between Al¡¯Corvo and the armour, holding breastplates up to see if they could fit Al¡¯Corvo.

    After a few minutes of umming and ahhing, Al¡¯Thim carefully took off the centre breastplate and handed it to Al¡¯Corvo.

    ¡°Do you know how to put one of these on? You probably don¡¯t but, y¡¯know, assuming isn¡¯t always the best thing to do.¡± Al¡¯Thim half-muttered as if not expecting an answer.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, I know absolutely nothing about armour.¡± Al¡¯Corvo opted for a brutally honest response.

    ¡°It¡¯s simple really. I¡¯ll let you figure out the minutiae, but I¡¯m going to put it on you to see if fits alright? Should only take a second. All you need to do is tighten these straps here¡­¡± Al¡¯Thim launched into an explanation of donning armour while putting it on Al¡¯Corvo.

    In a few minutes, the centurion bone armour was snugly wrapped around Al¡¯Corvo. Unlike classic Ward plate, the plate neglected to cover Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s arms, feet and head. What the armour did protect, Al¡¯Corvo was assured, it protected extremely well. It was nice and lightweight as well, feeling not too dissimilar to Al¡¯Corvo¡¯s heavy insulation gear.

    While Al¡¯Corvo stretched and got used to the added weight, Al¡¯Thim rummaged throughout the innumerable crates scattered throughout the room. With a shout of triumph, Al¡¯Thim returned brandishing a strange weapon unlike anything Al¡¯Corvo had seen. Not that that said much to the insular electrician.

    The blade was a dull coppery colour, with a thick, slightly curved edge that came to a small hook that faced the wielder. The sword was extremely dusty, so much so that Al¡¯Corvo almost didn¡¯t notice the serrated outer edge of the sword.

    ¡°This, Al¡¯Corvo my friend, is a mundic blade. They¡¯re pretty uncommon because they¡¯re shit at anything other than self-defense. But you probably can¡¯t use anything else so it is what it is.¡±

    Al¡¯Thim passed the blade over to Al¡¯Corvo, who grunted at the unexpected weight.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to be completely honest, I don¡¯t think I could swing a sword like this. A stun baton is much easier.¡± Al¡¯Corvo dampened Al¡¯Thim¡¯s vibrant mood slightly, though only for a moment.

    ¡°Bah, don¡¯t worry about it. You see the curve? That¡¯s like the sword equivalent of training wheels. You can¡¯t slice things as well but it naturally aligns itself, which is pretty good for someone like yourself. The other properties of the sword you¡¯ll find out in training.¡± Al¡¯Thim paused for a moment before adding, ¡°I think that¡¯s everything¡­ yeah, that¡¯s all. Nice meeting you Al¡¯Corvo.¡± Al¡¯Thim extended a hand which Al¡¯Corvo shook.

    ¡°You too Al¡¯Thim.¡± Whether or not Al¡¯Corvo meant that was dubious at best.

    Al¡¯Thim began leading Al¡¯Corvo back through the maze of tunnels that were the armoury.

    ¡°Say Al¡¯Thim, why are you giving me such fine quality gear? I understand that Wards must be well-equipped, but centurion bone armour? Isn¡¯t that a bit excessive for a rookie?¡±

    Al¡¯Thim stopped for a moment.

    ¡°Not really no. As you may know, the number of Wards has dropped off immensely in the past few years. There¡¯s so much gear that no one will ever use, which is a crying shame considering the craftsmanship involved here. So long story short, I¡¯m giving you the best because I can, and no-one else will use it.¡±

    ¡°Is it still not a waste, what if a higher-ranked supporter comes in with a need for the best equipment?¡± Al¡¯Corvo asked.

    ¡°Weeeell, as I always say, it¡¯s better for equipment to be broken in the hands of a rookie than rusting away.¡±

    Al¡¯Corvo nodded, still slightly confused with Al¡¯Thim¡¯s logic. For the rest of the trip to the entrance of the armoury, silence reigned but for the dull clicking of claws on stone. In the end the only sound to break the monotony of clicking and Al¡¯Thim¡¯s whistling was the great clunking noise the vault door at the entrance made as it closed.