《Unto Dark》 Index Index The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Chapter I | House of Cards, Kingdom of Filth Life is a mistake. No matter how many millions of years of evolution we go through, it will never live up to the hype. Then again, what can you expect? Fame and glory are in the end just words on paper, or droned by gaudy suits on any number of programs available. The profoundness we so eagerly attest to¡­? Meager pleasantries of those desperately struggling to stay afloat on a sea of meaningless numbers. As lowly humans, we wade through the slop we have brought upon ourselves, but a thread among many. We are trash, and like trash, we are thrown away when the time comes. The bounds of the human limits only extend thus far. What mechanism could possibly drive the heart of man to continue its insipid existence, despite having full knowledge of the fruitlessness that it entails? I cannot, and most likely nor will I ever understand. ¡°Uuuuu¡± My mouth is becoming dry from thinking of such mundanity¡­ Nestled in the darkness, I reside in the tiny crawlspace under the stairs of my mother''s aging townhouse. Like a grim specter, my visage is illuminated only by the screen of the laptop sitting on my childlike computer desk. Grabbing a can of cola out of the tiny bar fridge underneath, I crack it open and listen to the CO2 bubbles rising to the surface. The soothing sound causes my constantly racing brain to calm itself a bit, so I relax myself, as I stare blankly at the darkness beyond the screen''s glow. Minutely, I sense the presence of a sinister aura from behind me. In the case that this presence was a threat to my being, I would act accordingly. But I know of its transience, so I choose to ignore it. Ever since returning home from that damned facility, I have been put on enough pills that the symptoms have at least become somewhat manageable. It will not erase what I have done. But just as birds have a responsibility to feed their young, I will carry the burden of these sins for the rest of my life, however long that should last. It is the least I can do to atone, no matter how cliche that self-centered belief may be. ¡°Forgive me, Gwyn...¡± Sensing an opening, the entity behind finally makes its move, and like a million needles, it embraces me. With its cold and viscous oil, the flesh begins to dissolve from my bones. The heavy mucous entombs my being, submerging my entire body and wresting me of breath. It takes all of my negligible strength to break free from its hold, and as I gasp air into my lungs, a chilling sweat covers my entire body. (Hah¡­ That¡­ A slime this time, huh...? Speaking of which, I wonder how that web novel is getting along¡­) Scratching my beard quizzically, I adjust my vision to the screen and ignore any baseless things that cling to my consciousness. As my pupils constrict in reaction to the glowing LCD¡¯s added stimulus, the earlier anomaly dissipates. Presence thwarted. This is by no means an uncommon occurrence, happening more times in a day than I care to count. I am constantly fettered by the chains this illness has brought upon me. Though, over time I have become inured to its wrath. Honestly, you can ignore anything if you try hard enough... But the day is long. Even more so when you are constantly at war with your own mind. Each battle brings with it a new battle, and the cycle never ends. I can only pass my time meandering through the web, finding things to watch and read. With no obligations to speak of, I have only to take my pills and stay out of trouble. Without her, I really am¡­ empty. ¡°Urggggh!¡± Pain! Flickering jolts of searing agony rampage through the left side of my body, as my heart contracts, as if squeezed under a metal press. The air in my lungs expel in muffled groans, and the urge to vomit becomes overwhelming, taking hold of my bodily functions. Fortunately, I point myself in the general direction of the waste bin on my right side before my stomach¡¯s contents escape. Shortly thereafter I plummet forwards, grazing my head against the desk in the process. I am unconscious before I even hit the floor. ------------ I remember my childhood¡­ A scene from before I was diagnosed with the plethora of mental disorders. Before I disgraced myself, and with my own hands destroyed everything that I held dear. Watching from a short distance away from the scene, I am like a bystander to my own memory. ¡°Ahh¡­ This must be a dream¡­¡± Alone, yet not so much, I mutter into the prevailing soundlessness, as if confirming my own cognizance. ¡°How unfortunate¡­¡± A young boy, appearing around the age of seven or eight, is sitting at a small, cluttered desk. Its surface is piled with thick books, nary a single space left. The youth himself has propped in his lap an elegant book titled ¡®The Knight and the Flower Maiden¡¯. To his left he holds gently onto the edge of a cradle, rocking it back and forth. The baby inside coos with a contented face, as it listens to the boy read the heroic and romantic tale. After a few moments, time begins to blur, and the scene fades away into a colorful cloud of dust, whilst another one takes its place. In this scene, the boy looks to be about the age of ten and is sitting at a piano. His sibling, now a five-year-old girl with short, glossy, black hair, is seated on his lap. The boy, who likewise has short, black hair, plays a very calming song for his sister, whose head cheerfully sways side to side. ¡°I wuv da Cwoud Song Wade.¡± She chimes gleefully, though with muddled words, as children her age typically tend to do. ¡°I wich I was a cwoud.¡± The boy simply smiles at her childish notion, while continuing to play the peaceful tune for the girl. Rather abruptly, he stops and looks over his shoulder. His face is devoid any signs of emotion, much unlike it had been when interacting with his sister. Our line of sight connects, as we both stare emptily at one another, neither of us uttering a word. Eventually, he turns back to the piano and begins the tune again, though his playing feels distracted. It is quite obvious the boy is unsettled by my presence. Despite this, he manages to remain composed enough so as not to disturb his sibling. The scene changes once again, and two years seem to have gone by. It is late evening, and the siblings are walking home from school. Hidden behind her long black hair, the sister¡¯s puffed cheeks denote a displeasure of some sort. The brother appears to be frantically searching for a way to relieve the situation. ¡°I-I''m sorry I didn''t come pick you up right away, Gwyn. Something¡­ Unfortunate happened after school as it were. I¡¯ll do anything it takes to make it up to you, so¡­ Just this once, could this cute little sister perhaps forgive me?¡± ¡°Hm~mph!¡± The sister looks away stubbornly while pouting. Thus the brother scratches his cheek while smiling wryly, wondering whether his carefully planned words have had any effect on her mood. After taking a quick peek at him, and apparently feeling at least some forgiveness, the sister instead becomes curious as to what could have possibly taken priority over her. ¡°So why were you late?¡± The big brother winces quite visibly at this question, and for a moment, looks conflicted. Finally, although an unfortunate decision, he lies. ¡°I-it was the class president. She asked me to help take care of some papers after school. While I of course objected, her authority is hard to deny. Honestly, I''m willing to do anything, so can we overlook it just this once?¡± This is a plausible reason which would explain everything, but no matter how much the boy wishes it had been, such an innocent prime-of-youth situation is far from the truth. It still manages to fool the seven-year-old girl, however. ¡°Hmph! Who does she think she is? I had to wait a whole hour! It''s your fault too, Wade. You never stick up for yourself like a man.¡± ¡°Ahahaa... I''d like you to spare me from the indelicacy of such implications¡­¡± ¡°Boo, Wade is too soft, especially to women.¡± While the sister crosses her arms in frustration, the brother simply shrugs his shoulders. Conflicting thoughts of how ¡®She is just too cute.¡¯ or, ¡®That last part sounded kind of ominous¡­¡¯ do cross his mind, but nothing really matters when compared to the fact that he has just lied to this innocent little girl. Watching this whole scene, I reminisce upon the actual events which took place back then. While there is little, if any, truth to the boy¡¯s statement, the lie was not in malice; But rather, to protect the harmony of the relationship between these two siblings. Everything was for her... No matter how far this accursed sickness spread, I buried it all behind a tidy smile. As long as I could uphold my outward appearance, whatever ran rampant beneath the surface was an irrelevant matter. I enforced this mantra strictly, but it was never enough. Although most symptoms could be easily dismissed, they grew and grew at an unmanageable rate. I could feel its hold increasing, like tendrils stretching into the depths of my mind. As the hindrances became worse, and no matter how desperately I tried to ignore them, the peculiarities in my behavior led my teachers to take notice. I was eventually given a detention¡­ Hence the reason for being late. The Principal just asked how I was doing, and if there was anything I should be telling her. Having little interest in the pity of such a geriatric sow, I simply brushed her off by saying I had been feeling ¡®distracted¡¯, or ¡®exhausted¡¯. I did not need any unnecessary information reaching my parents'' ears, and I definitely did not want to cause trouble for my sister. Being hailed as having considerably higher intelligence than my peers, my achievements were often singled out by those around me. Thus I made an effort to keep up such appearances in front of her. Someone as ill as myself pretending to function like a regular human being was bound to have terrible ramifications. I will never disgrace that person by saying something like, ¡®I wish I could go back and do it again¡¯. But it stands to be said that my skewed values were one of the main causes of what has come to pass. Let me just say this¡­ I was the catalyst for my own demise. The scene changes to a more solemn display. The deafening chorus of rain blankets the earth, smothering the life out of the last vestiges of the evening''s twilight. The men garbed in blue uniforms carefully handle a gurney as they drag it onto the crowded street. The subtle hint of depravity emanating from the scene draws onlookers, like flies to a carcass. Someone notices a figure emerge from the front door of the house and garners the others'' attention to the otherworldly scene. Their faces distorting into a mixture of disgust, surprise, and horror. The figure in the door, a teenager around the age of sixteen, wears a school uniform, accented by deep, bleeding gouges on his face. All the way from his head to his toe, he is covered in a red splatter, like an abomination straight from a nightmare. His eyes remain skyward, devoid of any emotions, just staring beyond the ember glow of the setting sun in the distance. Something unfamiliar creeps behind his icy expression. Two Police Officers emerge after the boy, and it is soon apparent that this youth is handcuffed at the wrists. What deplorable acts could have led to the boy''s current condition can only be speculated by the crowd, as he is led from the doorway to a squad car. A guttural and chilling laugh leaks out from the boy, as he tilts his head unnaturally to the side. It is then that his eyes become fixed upon mine. I house no pity for his wretched form. Now drenched in the rain, the blood begins to seep from his clothes and stains the ground where he walks, like the depravity bubbling forth, tainting its surroundings. A sense lingers in that place, asthough nothing will ever be the same there again; A perverse feeling, that cannot be explained. No doubt, looking at the scene of devastation from that day is disturbing to the viewer. Even I, who have experienced this all before so many times, look on in stoic distaste. The smell of blood on my hands never comes clean. Like a stigma, I have been cursed for my sins. Whether my frigid heart can truly appreciate the significance of such a reminder is doubtful. However, the smell¡­ Her life essence¡­ Being stained by my sister¡¯s memory is at least somewhat comforting. I know well that I am already broken, just as I was on that fateful day. Standing here in the rain, listening to the faint remnants of the sirens fade into the distance, I am once again reminded of unnecessary things. ¡°Haa. The purifying feeling of rain is nice every so often¡­ I suppose¡­¡± Whimsically, I think aloud to myself. ¡°{I th0uGHT y0U h4TeD tHe RaiN?1!}¡± The garbled voice, filled with static and other mechanical noises, sounds from my right side. It is an unearthly voice you would only think that a demonic creature could mutter, yet the faintest hint of a smile quivers upon my lips. Suddenly, tiny cold fingers grip my soaking wet hand. While it is a gentle embrace, the other hand lacks any of the body heat of the living, like a cold piece of bony meat. I make a momentary glance to my right and confirm the presence. Sure enough, a petite figure now stands motionless at my side. Skin like smooth white porcelain devoid of any color, and an elegant, black, gothic one-piece dress. Black glossy hair cut straight at the bangs and hanging long in the back. It is a cute young girl that could warm the hearts of many a tired soul, save for that one thing. This child has no eyes. Just black gaping darkness, behind long dainty eyelashes. An eerie miasma leaks out of the sockets, like a shadowy fog, devouring the light. Standing hand-in-hand with this child who resembles her yet not, I gaze upon the scene from the dream, which begins its obligatory cycle of transformation. ¡°Well, that is true enough. Do not worry¡­ Simply a passing whim. Your blood will not wash off so easily, you know¡­¡± The girl stays silent, neither assenting nor otherwise, just blankly watching ahead. Likewise, I stand stalwartly as the scene breathes into life. Harnessed with a straitjacket, he sits on a cot, staring at the wall of a small room. This languid and sickly boy briefly looks towards us but eventually turns away. The listlessness in his eyes is smothering, like all the world¡¯s darkness has passed through, leaving them blind to the light. ¡°I sure got used to small spaces, huh? Even now, after they finally let me live at Mother''s, it is the same type of cramped room. I wonder how long this dream will keep going for? Watching these old memories over and over again is a little dry.¡± There is meaning in holding onto certain memories, but that does not mean I want to see them every time I close my eyes. ¡°{Di5s4tISfIeD!1?!}¡± ¡°Hmmm, more like¡­ Bored¡­?¡± I let it slip out¡­ What a grave mistake I have made. Please tell me she did not hear my foolishly uttered remark. The grip of her hand slightly tightens, and a small twitch can be seen from her brow. For someone who normally lacks any kind of emotion in her facial expression, this is a significant change. She definitely heard me! ¡°{UnGr4tEfuL!!1!}¡± ¡°No, not like that! I just meant that having the same dreams all the time has become kind of repetitious, you know? You are my only highlight in this dreary place.¡± ¡°{HmMpH!!1!}¡± Phew¡­ That was close. Fortunately, I seem to have reasoned my way out of something most unpleasant. This girl sure is heartless... If she is supposed to represent the bright and innocent sister I once knew, she could at least try a little harder on that front. Though perhaps her jaded and harsh representation is due to my own influence. If I were told such a thing, I would probably believe it. Apart from her personality, or lack thereof, the appearance is mostly as I remember. Though this gothic dress is more like a manga character¡¯s choice of clothing, rather than my tomboyish sister¡¯s. In fact, it is odd¡­ Oh well, just seeing her is enough. Come to think of it, I seem to remember my sister implicitly wearing bear-printed panties. Is this child¡­? This is bothering me... ¡®Peak¡¯ Discreetly, I make the decision to lift up the reverse end of the dress and ascertain the existence of said bear logo. However, I instinctively halt this ill-advised expedition before it reaches its conclusion. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°{¡­}¡± My shoulders stiffen. I feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck erect in defense, and all the fluid in my veins turns to ice. Is this thick, ugly sensation perhaps what they call bloodlust? Did she somehow read my mind? Feign ignorance¡­ As long as I do not admit to thinking it, she cannot prove otherwise... ''Sniiip'' ''Sniiiip'' Oi, oi! Whatever happened to innocence until proven guilty!? And why scissors? What are you planning on cutting off with those things? Let us not jump to any hasty conclusions here. I may have been thinking it, but I doubt they would even be visible in this dimly lit cell. ¡°{PuN1sHm3nT!1!}¡± ¡°Pass¡­¡± This solitary confinement room can only be opened from the outside; Nonetheless, such trivial boundaries are but a trifle in a lucid dream. With finesse, I reach for a newly imagined door handle¡­ Of which none appears. In this sort of situation, you can only apologize and make up. ¡°I apologize¡­¡± ¡®Sniip, sniip¡¯ Not good enough? ¡°I am sincerely regretful of my decisions, you know. I honestly have no idea what came over me. I beg for your forgiveness! Please just keep those things away from me Ojousama!!¡± Even whilst I have become a bubbling fountain of apologies, the rusty-looking scissors inch closer and closer. Trapped with my back against the door, I crumple into a seated position in defeat. I suppose I deserve whatever is coming, I only ask that she make it quick. ¡°{PeRv3rT!!11!}¡± Finally, I hear her dissonant voice, ever so close to my right ear. Turning away, I am greeted with the sardonic smirk of my younger self, as he now unconcernedly watches my predicament from his bed. So useless¡­ ''Sniiip!'' A searing pain assaults my groin. Such a devastating amount of pain that the sound will not even escape my mouth. Rocketing upright from where I lay on my floor-strewn blankets, a cold sweat covers my entire body. Quickly, while gasping for breath, I check my groin¡­ Nothing¡­ No wound, that is. As my eyes eventually adjust to the darkness, I estimate that it has been approximately twenty minutes since I lost consciousness. Just to be certain, I check the time on my laptop. Sure enough, it is now 2:54 AM. Now that the small space is lit by the screen, I scan my surroundings. No signs of any of the earlier apparitions. But you can never be too careful. Taking a deep breath, I focus my sensory perception and close my eyes. Thus, I sink into darkness. What was once dull silence becomes more intricate, as I pick up on things above the range normally perceivable. The purr of my laptop''s fan and buzz of my slender mini-fridge are one thing, but even the flowing of the wind as it circulates through this old house becomes clearer. The smells also become more defined, however, contrary to the pleasant nighttime soundscape, the overpowering scent of vomit invades my senses. ¡°How¡­ Unpleasant¡­¡± Recalling the memories from before I passed out, I remember the gripping pain that had caused me to collapse. You could call it a heart attack, but this would be incorrect. The simple explanation is that the pain I was feeling had been an illusory pain. It can be attributed, like so many other symptoms, to my illness. There is no end to what kind of madness my illness brings. Fortunately, since I started taking pills, I must only endure mild symptoms like these. That I consider a heart attack to be a mild symptom only proves how nonsensical my illness originally is. As well as how mind-numbingly powerful these drugs must be to suppress it to such a degree. That aside, my safe place is now contaminated with the stench of bile, which warrants a merciless scrub down of every visible surface. I dislike any type of strong smells, so I always personally prepare my own scentless cleaning solution. It is likely due to me training my sensory faculties so much that they have become so delicate. Am I perhaps doing more harm than good? After a rigorous cleaning, I leave the room momentarily to take a shower. Though it is still very early, I pass by my Mother making tea in the kitchen. The clock now says 5:40 AM so she must be getting ready to head to work. ¡°Mother¡­¡± ¡°Mmhm. Good Morning, Wade¡­¡± Despite what I have done, we have managed to at least bring our relationship back to the point of having such meaningless interactions. I will not be forgiven, nor do I believe it necessary for her to do so; Words are meaningless. I desire nothing from her, and likewise, she remains ambivalent in her feelings towards me. Back when we first saw each other again at the facility, after having been cleared for visitors, her expression was utterly disdainful. I half expected for her to burst out in anger and slap me. Instead, she began to cry, holding her head in her hands all the while. Unfortunately, by then I had already deemed the useless facade, upon which I so desperately clung, no longer of importance. Without it, whether it was within my power or not, I had no way of relieving her pain¡­ I just sat there and watched her tears fall to the floor. It was a scene that cemented in her heart the emptiness that I had become. She happened by occasionally, and eventually, she decided to take me home. There was little hope for me to live in society¡­ I mean, would you like a criminally insane person to serve you your fries, or to bag your groceries? The pills can only do so much; I am just barely holding on. As if pushing the filth beneath the surface, I remain quietly in my chamber, reading manga and light novels, watching anime, and weathering the tides of darkness. ¡°Uaaaa¡­ That is going to leave a heck of a bruise!¡± Usually, I tend to stay away from mirrors. They never lie, and you can never fool them. In their depths, I am shown the true nature of the abyss that I have been cast into. This illness that I have been gifted with. Like the corona of a black star, it shadows me, blotting out the light. Swirling and tumultuous. An everlasting presence that looms on the brink, waiting for me to fall so it can finally finish consuming the last of the shattered fragments I have left of my mind. In spite of this, I am currently standing in front of a mirror at this very moment, having finished scouring the filth from my body. Out of pure whim, I gaze upon my decrepit self. Coal black hair, akilter, and a silver-streaked, thick black beard adorn my unhealthily pallid skin. Around my eyes is puffy and dark, and diagonally below my left eye are two discolored scars. These, along with the few on my arms and chest, are an open reminder of the shame that I have committed. A positive person might say I give the impression of a middle-aged regent, but I would frown at such a person¡¯s facile mind. I am barely twenty-four but give off the bitter aura of an aged homeless man, tempered by the cacophony of life. It does not help that my mismatched wardrobe, a mustard colored shirt, and unshapely, cyan pajama pants, hurt my eyes just by looking at them. Even someone as aesthetically-challenged as myself can tell my style is faulty. But I could not care less. I pick them randomly, keeping the rest of them neatly pressed into little bags inside of a shoebox under my desk. The shoes themselves rarely get worn, as I only leave my house when it is absolutely necessary. Very infrequently I am required to pay a visit to that idiot psychiatrist. Apart from that, I am practically a shut-in. ¡®Tch.¡¯ The red welt only becomes visible when I pull up my bangs. Nonetheless, it is quite large, about the length of a finger. It appears I struck far harder than I anticipated. Since I have always been somewhat numb to most pain, it is a simple miscalculation. Whether you could call it lucky or not, I still feel the realistic, albeit illusory pain from my hallucinations. It would be no joke if I were to knock something loose and get stuck with yet another brain problem. Well, whatever¡­ I can deal with such things when they come. Speaking of problems, a certain thing has been hanging out of the bottom of the mirror for some time now, slowly advancing towards me. It can only be described as an ugly, undead appendage with skin peeling back like aging paint. I have been ignoring it, but having pretty much finished in here, I should leave before it levels up. Things like this are what keep me from looking at mirrors. I mean, I had almost forgotten what I looked like until just now, you know. Stepping languidly through the dim halls, I return to my safe place. My mother must have left while I was in there as I am without interruption this time. The faint whir of noise caused by the electronics in my cramped crawlspace immediately soothes my mind. Duchess and Beautiful. Those are the names I have given to my fridge and laptop respectively. It is trifling to denounce me for it, you will get no reaction. I have long since discarded any obstructive notions like etiquette or propriety. Besides, they told me their names themselves, you know¡­ Beautiful is still open on the page I left her on before my ¡°nap¡±; She is quite loyal that way, so I will be sure to give her another good cleaning soon. A bit of cola remains in the bottom of the previous can, so I drink it while I peruse the otaku news forum I often frequent. Ironically, spreading my tendrils through the web, and absorbing all there is to know about such things is the most human aspect of my daily life. I particularly focus on light novels and web novels, as I find their worlds more encapsulating due to my own powerful imagination. I have a very vast and deep well of imagination, which if used methodically, could structurally recreate any number of possibilities. Even more so if most of my mental capacity were not siphoned away by the heavy intake of medication. Even if I were to cease taking them, I doubt the benefits would outweigh the demerits. With the gargantuan weight that the medication places on my mental facilities lifted, the darkness would run rampant, until I am once again¡­ Well, it would not be pleasant, that much is for certain. Besides, I cannot, such a thing. If I should lose control and harm anyone else¡­ The pittance would be too great for me to ever repay, and I swear by this¡­ I will repay my debt. It was back when the aftermath of the event had just been settled. Since it was blatantly obvious I was in no condition that even resembled sanity, the court ordered me to be put into a psychiatric facility. That disgusting place¡­ The hypocrisy of that destitute establishment causes bile to once again churn in my stomach just from remembering it. Heavily sedated, I was left in a daze for the first week so I hardly remember much. What I do remember is replaying the events of that day in my head over, and over again. It was burned into my retinas, as I festered in my stupor. I thought about when I went wrong, or what I could have done to avoid this situation; How I could have protected her, shielded her from the evil that this world so incessantly harbors. I came to a realization¡­ She was gone. I would never see her again, never hold her hand, the frigid chill sunk in, so cold it burned my heart. What nonsense. Even knowing this would happen, I still could not change her fate. The incongruity of the whole thing took me by surprise, leaving me unable to find an answer. When I finally thought about it, the answer was quite obvious¡­ I caused this. My arrogance. My irresponsible egotism. As I created my great house of cards, built atop a lake of filth, laughing all the while, I looked down on everyone in their petty squalor. ¡°I must be better than them, for I am higher!¡± I mused. How laudable. That we can delude ourselves into thinking such fallaciousness. Before I realized, my cards came tumbling down, and I was left crippled and broken. There was no difference between those bumbling fools and I. My eyes were blinded. I tried so hard to fill in the gaps, that I forgot the very reason I even bothered in the first place. I fucked everything up, and now I was lost. There was no longer a reason for me to stay in this bleak place¡­ Or at least that was the conclusion I came to in that week or so. Thus, once I was let off of the sedatives and finally able to move again, I decided to end this madness, once and for all. Perhaps with that, I could repay my debt to her¡­ ¡°{N4iVe!1!}¡± It was upon me before I even noticed, as I lie on my bed in that tiny room, embraced by the confines of my straitjacket. I was wondering just how I was going to manage my final task when she suddenly appeared. This was my first meeting with her, this apparition that so resembled my dearly departed sister. She was straddled atop my waist, her cold, lifeless fingers, wrapped around my throat with an inhumanly strong grip. It hurt. The squeezing was with such force that it caused a kaleidoscope of colors to flash before me. My arms, which I had finally gotten free from their restraints, were pinned down by her thighs, and so I could do nothing. That said, rather than all these things, what hurt the most¡­ Was the searing agony that radiated from the wounds on my chest and face. Why did she come? She must scorn me now, right? Is that it? Is killing me what she wants? That may not be so bad. In fact, it was perfect. If it is what she wishes, I should just succumb to her wrath, then my debt to her will be paid, I thought. Whilst I waited for my end, I watched her fragile looking frame wrest the life from my body. But suddenly her grip weakened, and she removed her tiny fingers from my neck. Air greedily flowed into my lungs as she placed her right hand on my face. I was confused and reeling from the pain, unable to piece together why she would release me. But this did not seem to bother her too much. It appeared that the bandages that covered the wounds on my cheek were obstructing her, so she peeled them off without restraint. ''Riiiip'' Cold air now graced the exposed wounds, and the utter disregard she showed for my well-being as she ripped the bandages from my face was no small amount of discomfort. No matter how much the sedatives had abated, this kind of pain was odd. Over and over she traced the stitches they had put in place, leering at them. It was hard to tell where she was staring, but I got the picture. If you looked past the chasms of miasma in place of eye sockets, her features were fine; My sister was also thus. Her figure was delicate, ethereal even, like an angelic ray cast down to this realm that if disturbed, would evanesce before my very eyes. I could only watch as she continued to weave her fingers through the stitches playfully, and a drop of sweat was starting to form on my forehead in anticipation. What was I waiting for exactly? I have no clue¡­ But she never fails to impress. In one quick motion, she stabbed her index and middle finger into the wounds and tore out the stitches in a clawing motion. The fact that I had not made a sound was mostly because of the damage she had done to my throat earlier. My fingers dug into the bedsheets as my body convulsed in agony. She looked elated, that demon eyed girl, and after I stopped my spasms and became calm once again she placed both of her hands on my shoulders and leaned her head next to mine. I was paralyzed as I felt the coldness of her cheek, and how she smelled just like in my memory. ¡°{DiD y0U ThINk iT w0uLd bE s0 E4sY!?1}¡± I see¡­ I was wrong. There is no way such a simple and painless death would be forgiven. My debts are grave, stretching into the heavens and beyond; A crushing tower of sins. How foolish, to think I could repay her with just this. I could only laugh at myself in nihilism, the taste of blood on my tongue. I did not know when it happened but the phantom was standing beside the bed on my right, emotionless. She looked down at me as I basked in my futility. What then, did this child want? How was I to balance the disorder I had caused? Did she not want retribution? Come to think of it¡­ Back then¡­ She was smiling, was she not? ¡°{LiVe. ThIs KinGd0M oF fiLtH Is y0uR pUNiShM3nT!!1!}¡± ¡°T-that seems a little harsh?¡± ¡°{¡­}¡± ¡°¡­ J-just kidding. Ehehe¡­ Haa¡­¡± This is kind of shit, you know?¡­ I did not dare say¡­ Well¡­ I do deserve it, I guess. To be left broken and alone in pain and anguish was almost too good of a punishment for what I had done. I would have been fine with anything really, since my desire to repay my debts was genuine. Where will this choice take me, in the end? I wonder... ¡°I promise¡­¡± My resolve from that day will never falter. At least the drugs should help¡­ A bit¡­ Who am I kidding? This is going to be a thorny road¡­ Chapter II | Echoes of Laughter, Bridle of Madness The purr of the combined noise of both my laptop ¡°Beautiful¡± and my mini fridge ¡°Duchess¡±, whispers softly inside my dark room under the stairs of my mother¡¯s aging townhouse. Late at night, there is an absence of background noise, so it tends to be the perfect time to clear one¡¯s head. The day is Monday, and the clock boasts 1:20 AM. I suppose Tuesday would be more accurate¡­ Due to recent events, I am currently attempting to re-establish a sort of inner balance; A serene mindset, if you will. I must frequently empty my mind of all unnecessary garbage through practiced meditation, or the hallucinations become too difficult to ignore. This act usually requires a calm atmosphere, and unclouded thoughts, both of which are things I commonly struggle to attain. Tonight, in particular, there is a certain something greatly hindering my concentration. It has been standing behind me for some time now, just waiting with crossed arms. This fellow¡¯s condescending posture seems to be implying that no matter what I try, I shall never escape my fate, doomed to be consumed by this darkness. My inner balance is fluctuating. If this thing is going to interrupt my meditation to this extent, I will just have to deal with it and get it over with. ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ ¡°I guess I should have that idiot doctor up the dose of my pills again.¡± ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± Ew¡­ ¡°Your laugh is as vile as ever, you damnable bastard¡­¡± ¡°{I¡¯m flattered, Wade. It is one of my more defining features.}¡± ¡®Tch¡¯ This thing was always like that, I suppose. Like a pure undistilled embodiment of the echoing madness of the [Black Corona]. There is nothing humorous about its monochrome, clown-like attire. It just makes it seem even more insane. With no discernable gender, its appearance is awkward to behold, and the number of masks it hides behind is bottomless. Like an actor, it switches between them according to the circumstances. A rather tired appearance, so no points to my imagination on that part. ¡°Kind of busy here, so tell me what you want, demon¡­¡± At my command, it bows exaggeratedly like some sort of court jester. I can do without the theatrics you imbecile, they give me a headache. ¡°{Wade, Wade, Wade¡­ How shallow your existence has become. I seem to remember you being a much more interesting person.}¡± ¡°No more nonsense... Out with it already.¡± ¡°{Tut tut. You certainly have foregone your usual cordiality, I see¡­ Is it really so scary to live in this world with a mask, Wade? Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± With this, as if poking fun at me, the crimson mask it was using is switched out for a white, faceless one. The transition is instantaneous, but the actions are done with an odd mechanical tempo. Coupled with the smoky haze oozing from behind the mask, it creates an unnerving atmosphere. ¡°{Are you certain that this languor you wallow in is what poor Gwyndolyn would have wanted for you? I am not so certain, Wade.}¡± The gall of this lowlife, just spouting my sister¡¯s name like that¡­ Though I myself have lost the right to judge. ¡°I chose this life for myself because I wanted it, not because I thought it was what she would have wanted. Know your place. Living this empty life is just my selfish way of atonement¡­ Besides, what I do is none of your business.¡± I have long since given up on the thought of redemption. Now I just give whatever pittance I can possibly muster. It is meaningless and hypocritical, but I think such a thing just the same. There was never really a point. Simply¡­ Self-satisfaction. ¡°{I see¡­ You¡¯ve become so stoic, Wade. I was certain you would have been enraged by my provoking. You¡¯re all grown up, so to speak, and the darkness you exude is ever becoming stronger. I am positively giddy to see what you would become if not for those dubious pills you ingest. Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± ¡°Ah¡­ Is that so.¡± This thing is repugnant. I mean, just listening to its high-pitched voice is setting my teeth on edge. If this charade continues, my migraine is going to become something unmanageable. ¡°{Yes, yes. I¡¯m interested to no end, you see. In fact, if it were up to me, Wade, I would have thrown away such stifling things and unleashed a bitter hell upon this sad world.}¡± I bet you would¡­ ¡°{However¡­ I couldn¡¯t, such a boorish act. I would much prefer you chose to perform such deeds of your own volition, Wade.}¡± ¡°You must be disappointed, clown. I will never betray her memory. Go and get your kicks elsewhere.¡± ¡°{I see¡­ Well, I expected as much, but this and that have little to do with the other. I believe you wanted to know why I have appeared again after all this time? The truth is, Wade, I have come with a proposal of sorts, you see. Although I know you have little faith in me, I¡¯m sure you will be inclined to find that this particular instance, is far more appealing than what you imagined.}¡± A silken tongue, this bastard. But I know what lies behind the artful guise, and there is no way in hell I would believe these shallow words. ¡°I could not possibly trust you any less than I currently do, demon... But I am listening. If only to be done with you that much more quickly.¡± I cross my arms as I sit facing this apparition, with deadpan eyes of doubt. The clown itself, who I seem to have forgotten the name of, switches its mask to that of an unsettling, squinty-eyed, grimacing pigman. Is this supposed to make me let my guard down? Because instead, it is making me sick. ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ You will not be disappointed, I promise you that¡­}¡± Yup¡­ I already regret it¡­ ¡°{Let me see, where should I begin¡­ Yes¡­ By chance, Wade, do you still believe you will never again see your prized little sister Gwyndolyn?}¡± This diabolical slime¡­ ¡°You know damn well that she¡­ That I killed her that day!¡± ¡°{Oh yes, Wade. I know quite well that you killed your precious sister on that beautiful day. It was a rather glorious occasion I should tell you. Kyish shyi shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± Perhaps, it would be better if I just killed this thing¡­ Then again, it did say that it would find that amusing. In that case, I shall refrain. I am fairly certain that ignoring its jabs is what would piss it off the most, so that is what I will do. ¡°{My my, back to the topic at hand. I may just know of a way for you to meet her once again. Do you still remain uninterested, Wade?}¡± And there it is¡­ ¡°I refuse.¡± There is nothing you could possibly say to make me believe you, monster¡­ ¡°{Hmm, is that so? What if I told you that your dear sister is in quite a predicament.}¡± ¡­ Except that. Fuck this clown! ¡°Tell me, NOW!¡± ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ Ever the little siscon, Wade. Even after she died.}¡± ¡°I will strangle you if I have to, demon! You must know that by now.¡± I have become impatient, and my inner balance is faltering. I can feel the darkness quiver, as it licks its lips in anticipation. It is absurd that just those simple words have left me in such an unnatural state. This is what I have become. A husk, save for the memory of my sister¡­ When was it that I lost my way in this riptide? Sitting here, dealing with the devil, I am reminded of what I am; What I have done. Is it any of my business what happens to her now? Not really, but just that much is not going to stop me from doing anything I can to change her fate. I would rather we not meet though, for I fear what would become of me in my current state. This blade¡¯s edge I dance upon is but that of a single strand of hair. Should I fall, there will be no coming back from the abyss. I turn and stare into the corner of my room in ponderance. Just what is there to look forward to from such a fragile existence? Even when I know there is something this clown is hiding, I cannot bring myself to refuse if it has to do with my sister¡¯s safety. I foresee that this choice will bring terrible ramifications¡­ ¡°{Everything comes with a price, Wade. Are you sure this price is worth the trouble?}¡± Its tone dropped to a somewhat deep, stern voice. This fellow may have asked me as much, but I only have one answer¡­ ¡°I will not repeat myself.¡± ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ Very well!}¡± And with a sweeping bow, the clown bursts into a cloud of grey smoke. In what was once the dead silence of night, there is now the earsplitting sound of glass breaking. The surroundings shatter into many pieces and drop to the floor, where they become just plain old shards of glass. Behind the glass that had shown what once was, is a new and vibrant scenery. The glaring sunlight burns my unprepared eyes, as it streams through a patchy canopy of branches and leaves. An eruption of the various cries of wildlife, and the relentless churning of flowing water sound off around me in a dizzying symphony. The overwhelming bombardment of stimuli leaves me utterly paralyzed. It is all that I can do to curl up in a ball and brace myself, as the forest mercilessly brandishes its tirade against me. Transitioning from the serene silence of my safe house to this busy wilderness is more than my senses can handle. ¡®Urp!¡¯ I threw up¡­ Once again¡­ ------------ Having been brought here by that lunatic clown must mean that I should find my answer in this ridiculous place. No matter how I look at it, this is no longer in the realm of simple hallucinations. I sit on the ground by the river¡¯s edge and listen to its deafening chorus. It took me quite a while to regain my bodily functions; During which time I was huddled in a pitiful heap, desperately covering my ears to block out the noise. Once I had finally become acclimated to the uproarious soundscape, I managed a brief scan of my new surroundings. In every direction spans a temperate rainforest, with layers upon layers of mossy fir trees stretching into the clear blue sky. The large river next to me is the only thing that breaks up this endlessly repeating landscape. It carves its way through the trees, like a great scar inflicted upon the forest. Dipping my cupped hands into the chilly waters that line the shore, I bring some of it to my lips and down its questionable contents. ¡°Hmm. Delicious¡­ I suppose?¡± The flavor is unlike that of tap-water, and the naturally brisk temperature is appealing. But in the end, water is water. Nonetheless, I greedily partake of its contents, mostly to rinse the taste of bile from my mouth. Now then, time for some meditation. My mental state has returned to a reasonable degree of steadiness, and the clown has apparently left me to my own devices. If I push the fact that I am lost in the wilderness to the back of my mind, I should have no problem. Thus, I begin the preparations. My mind and body are one. There is no light, there is no dark, there is only I alone here in this place. Become attuned to my inner sanctuary, and distribute the flow of consciousness evenly throughout my entire body. Think of nothing, of no one. Leave all sensations behind. More and more, spread my mind thinner and thinner until finally, I am emptiness itself. I have become the vessel, and the entire world is flowing through me. There is no substance, for I am a singularity in space. Let all become nothing. Within a few minutes, I successfully achieve the perfect state of mind; The state of Nothingness. It is now that I am able to become aware of my physical and mental health, free of the clouds of a weary heart¡­ Something is wrong. Nothing seems to be wrong with my body; Nevertheless, something is definitely wrong. This does not appear to be a dream, of that much I am certain, but just what is this incongruent feeling seeping into my consciousness from somewhere? This vile presence... The [Black Corona]¡­ The putrid entity that normally lies dormant in the depths of my consciousness, visible only through mirrors and the like. Why does it feel so tangible? This dry, suffocating air appears to flow around me like an ominous cloak. Even now, I can clearly feel the stagnant pressure from behind me. Its quenchless beckoning is execrably overwhelming. I feel brittle. The vastness of this new, unchained [Black Corona] is beyond measure. It whispers from behind me, as it releases tiny morsels of its dark radiance from across the void. My body shivers¡­ Despite this, I feel no fear... Suddenly, the scars on my face and chest erupt with excruciating pain. A burning sensation, unlike any I have ever felt before. Gripping my chest in agony, my carefully honed meditative state crumbles to naught, having been forcefully shut down. Like waking from a nightmare, the sinister cloak that had surrounded me fades away. The flow of the forbidding aura between the [Black Corona] and myself slows to almost unnoticeable levels. It remains, but so minuscule I can barely tell that it exists. Inexplicably, as if I had been holding my breath, I deeply gasp for air. My skin tingles and my focus reverts from inner to outer stimuli. A dull throbbing resonates inside my skull, accompanied by a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Pushing firmly above my nasal septum relieves a bit of the pain, but not all. Nothing around me stirs, drenching the once jubilant surroundings in an eerie silence. I can no longer sense any wildlife within my immediate vicinity. It is as if they had also sensed the disturbing mass that is the [Black Corona], and fled in sheer terror. Of course, I have no way of knowing if that is the case... An intriguing turn of events. What is the meaning for the [Black Corona]¡¯s sudden transformation? Although I do have my theories, they will, unfortunately, have to wait. There are more important matters at hand. Let me collect my thoughts. It is safe to assume that I have been ferried to an altogether unfamiliar world by unknown forces. Well¡­ Unknown apart from that it was at the clown¡¯s behest. Then again, as it is a mere figment of my imagination¡­ Did I perhaps bring myself here? (Did I have such specs?) Figuring out that I can no longer call this place the Earth I know, is as simple as looking to the sky. A brilliantly shining orb, with an otherworldly cerulean hue, stares back at me. The blue star is accompanied by a set of three diverse bodies, which I assume are the moons of this planet. Not only are they easily visible during the daytime, their colors are also quite distinct. From largest to smallest, they range from reddish-orange to ashen grey, to shimmering mauve. It looks just like a painting you might find of some kind of alien homeworld. From my memory, I know of no such planets which are also capable of sustaining life. Which means that either this place is beyond the scope of human knowledge, or could even exist in an alternate dimensional plane. Then again, none of this is of any importance to me at the moment. First things first, I should establish my whereabouts, keeping a lookout for food at the same time. I have to move fast since this kind of situation requires quick and decisive actions. Staying here any longer than necessary is pointless. A search party on my behalf does not exist. From what I know about that bastard clown, it is safe to presume such a thing. Am I going to be okay? I have barely left my house in over two years, and before that, I had been in solitary confinement for another six. You could say that I am very much out of my game. For now, I should follow this river downstream, or at least until I find something interesting. Who knows, maybe I will find a bridge or a village; That is if there are even people on this crazy planet. That fellow might have implied that this place would be related to my sister¡¯s whereabouts, but I do not trust those words. Nothing around me stands out as being out of the ordinary, save the alien sky. The atmosphere here is sort of similar to Earth, though the gravity appears to be minutely heavier here. That is the vague opinion I have as I currently travel downstream. Noticeable, yet not so much that it would cause any kind of trouble. Using a particularly sharp rock which I find by the water¡¯s edge, I make sure to carve an arrow in the trees I pass by every so often. I doubt that I will be returning this way, but it is best to play it safe. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. All in all, I spend the better part of three hours hiking with no shoes, before finally, my feet start to bleed. It would have been safer to walk on the mossy forest floor than the rocky riverside, but I wanted to expend as little energy as possible. Rather than letting myself become infected, I rip a shred of my mustard-colored shirt and fashion myself a makeshift bandage. I have little need to keep up appearances anyways, so this much is not a big deal. It is quite fortuitous to have a river nearby to drink from, but I should refrain from overindulging in it. Drinking too much will kickstart my metabolism, which in turn would increase my hunger. I have never been one to eat much to begin with, so I should be fine for now. I am becoming exhausted from the walking though, especially since I have no support for my feet. However, if I stop to rest now, I will probably regret it. It is more beneficial to search while there is still daylight, but my expectations are minimal... ------------ Two hours turns to three hours, and I still have found nothing of importance. I would prefer to have some kind of accomplishment before the day is through, but the chances are becoming increasingly unlikely. Having become fed up with the unending death march, I decide it is high time I got some rest. Only then do I become aware that a terrible fact had slipped my mind¡­ I am without my medication. On a good day, I take nine pills of various shapes and sizes in the morning when I wake up, and three more at lunch. But it is nighttime when the real problem arises. At night I take six pills, plus a certain pill which is vital for my being able to sleep. If I do not take that pill¡­ I will not sleep. For this, I am given no quarter. I have been awake for approximately nineteen hours straight and feel no signs of tiredness, apart from the physical exhaustion of my body from overworking itself. This alone is proof enough. Without that pill, I will inevitably enter a state of mind I have dubbed [Falling Owl]¡­ Mainly because it sounds appealing. Again, do not judge me. I name everything, you know¡­ When I am without sleep for over fifty hours, I stand the risk of succumbing to this treacherous fellow. Without warning, I will be cast into an instantaneous, coma-like condition. Much unlike regular sleep, however, my body does not slumber. Whatever action I should be doing at the time will continue to be carried out faithfully by my sleeping body; In other words, by [Falling Owl]. I could be running at full speed, and [Falling Owl] will keep going, running without end until I wake up. Obviously [Falling Owl] has almost no cognitive power, so he will strictly adhere to the last action executed before I fall unconscious. These episodes can last anywhere from ten seconds, to four minutes, but tend to stay in the shorter end of the spectrum until I stay up for more than a week. The longest I have ever stayed awake is three weeks while transitioning between pills during my stay in the facility. When four minutes can go by in what seems like the time span of a blink, it will quickly wear you down. The worst part is that I have absolutely no control over when they happen, or how long they last. And no, this is not just arbitrary deduction; Everything I know pertaining to [Falling Owl] has been thoroughly documented, as part of my quest to combat this illness. All of this information is kept hidden in a file on my laptop, which is obviously useless to me at the moment. (This should undoubtedly be interesting¡­) Choosing an appropriate tree to huddle under, I make camp at the edge of a clearing along the course of the riverbed. I have not eaten, but for now, I should be fine, as I am sufficiently hydrated. I would rather not eat the wild flora of this world before reading some type of documentation on them; If such a thing even exists. Evening twilight quickly engulfs my humble camp, as I rest my tired legs. With nothing better to do, I spend my time contemplating some of the mysteries of my new environments. When I left Earth it was around 1:00 AM, but when I came here it was just passed Noon. Thus, the clock is most likely a mirror image to that of Earth¡¯s. From the amount of time between when I arrived in this world to now, I can roughly calculate that a full day in this world will last very close to twenty-four hours. However, much of my data is based on crude and inaccurate measurements. Today¡¯s weather would indicate that the season must be anywhere from late spring to early summer. So the night should not be so cold as to require anything more than a tree to lean against. If I rest here, protecting myself against any predators should be a simple task. There is little chance I will fall asleep without my night pill, so I should be fine. Even if I am unable to sleep, I should still spend my time wisely. There are many important things I must decide upon. As the sun leaves the sky, I am at last plunged into darkness. It is a potent darkness, free of the busy city¡¯s flagrant light pollution; So dark, I can barely see my own arms in front of me. Only the rhythmic chirping of the creatures of the night keep me company. ¡°Now then¡­¡± It has been at the back of my mind ever since I got here. My current predicament has an uncanny similarity to the plot of a light novel or a web novel. If they can be used as a reference¡­ A world of swords and magic would be the most likely scenario. For now, I will use that as a basis for any future calculations. ¡°Magic, huh¡­?¡± How do you figure out whether magic is possible when you lack a proper guide or textbook? You can only try them all one at a time until something works¡­ I have nothing better to do anyway. I should start with something simple, like Ki. Both the inner kind of Ki that you learn from Qigong, and the considerably more practical outer kind. I have to cover all the bases. That is the scientific method to discovering magic. Concentration and application are the building blocks of most Ki based manga and anime. Beyond that, guts and plot armor. In theory it is uncomplicated; In practice¡­ We shall see. Concentrate¡­ Breathe deeply and feel the flow of Ki within my body. Feel it gathering in my core. Feel it squirming and crawling through my veins. Feel it echoing from the chaotic void. I feel¡­!? I feel sick¡­ ¡°Wrong!¡± Whatever that was, it was definitely not Ki! How unpleasant. Moving on¡­ What comes next? Chakra? Spirit Power? MP? I have until morning, so I might as well try them all¡­ ------------ I am a very pragmatic person. In fact, emotions are beyond my capabilities altogether. This is nothing new. But, really world? No magic, skill, secret technique, ki technique, chakra, spell, aria, prayer, bending, hand sign, or the like. ¡®Sigh¡¯ Having spent the better part of nine hours trying to recreate anything even slightly related to magic from memory, I finally give up. It is pointless to waste any more time on such a lost cause. Well¡­ At least now I know that magic does not exist in this world. Not that I can so easily reproduce, that is. With the early light of Dawn to guide me, I am going to continue walking. I may have rested all night, but having nothing to eat since I arrived in this place, I feel slight discomfort. As time steadily passes, the degree of my hallucinations is also becoming far more difficult to handle. Nonetheless, I have managed to make it through without upset. The added nuisance is rather exhausting though. Really, it has been awhile since I have had such extravagant episodes. Falling into a pit of lava, or suddenly being attacked by a monstrous ape creature or some such. It is certainly disconcerting when it happens, but for the most part, they leave no lasting effects. During instances with the demon-eyed girl, however, it is a different matter. As if seeking a connection to her actions, I sub-consciously inflict damage upon myself. It is never anything irreversible, but considering who it is, it usually hurts like a bitch. She is most violent, you know. Anyways, from the moment I entered this world, it has been a constant battle against hallucination after hallucination; That is to say, right at this moment I am in a bit of trouble¡­ I have been walking mindlessly for hours, trudging through an endless forest while I follow this unchanging river. The sky still holds its darkish tinge, even though some semblance of a sun is already beginning to peak out in the distance. I first notice the aberration after I slide down a particularly steep ledge. Its towering form looms above me as it stares at me with its bead-like eyes; A giant arachnid, most likely a harvestman by the looks of it. Its gangly legs stretch to around four meters in length and look about a thumb¡¯s length in diameter. ¡°Wow!¡± For a brief moment, my scattered thoughts turn white hot. My brain has reached its boiling point, trying to process the situation; A fruitless effort. There is no logical explanation for this creature¡¯s existence. It must be another one of the ever-increasing amounts of hallucinations as of late. I doubt that an arachnid would grow so large, even in an alternate world¡¯s climate. Just to be safe, I vigilantly leave a safe margin of distance away from the creature, as I start to walk around it in a circle. From my memory, I am fairly certain that these things are nocturnal. But in that case, would 6:00 AM be considered night or day¡­? ¡®Ktktktktktk¡¯ The clicking of its mandibles is displeasing; The fact that each one is as big as my forearm is also not something I am enthusiastic over. Everything about my current situation is bothersome. But I have no choice but to persevere. I have much more important things to be doing than dealing with unrealistic foolishness such as this. My brain has started processing at a more even rate, though far more rapidly than usual. Since I stopped taking those pills, the influence of the [Black Corona] might have become more intense; But from my estimations, I am also feeling a three percent increase in functionality. Considering only a day has passed, the significance is quite apparent. However, the cost is too severe. ¡®Kriii!¡¯ (Shit! This thing is fast!) Within the span of a second, it shortens the distance between us to an arm¡¯s length, ferociously catapulting itself towards me. The length of its legs is an inescapable advantage in battle. A meager human such as myself stands little chance. I have gravely underestimated my opponent. The harvestmen thrusts one of its spear-like limbs at my chest, cutting the air with a sharp whistling sound. There is only a slight resistance, as the terrible force pierces me through and through. The sickening squelch that erupts when the leg breaks the skin echoes deep inside my head and the impact causes me to spew foul liquids from my mouth. I am cleanly impaled upon the leg of this gigantic arachnid, unable to budge even an inch. Even when I grab onto the shaft protruding from my chest and try to pull myself away, I cannot summon any strength, instead, being met with agonizing pain. Having sufficiently weakened its prey, the Harvestmen now sees fit to drag me towards its salivating mandibles. With finesse, I am tucked into a deadly embrace. I can only watch pathetically as this monster sinks its grotesque fangs into my flesh in triumph. Thick liquid begins to fill my punctured lungs, and it soon becomes difficult to breathe. The indescribable pain that radiates throughout my entire body causes my muscles to spasm wildly. A chilling sensation starts building in my extremities and creeps upward, like dipping into a bath of icy water. The Harvestmen quickly and efficiently drains the blood from my body; Because of this, my consciousness grows weary. All thoughts and sensations begin to fade away, as my brain is deprived of the oxygen it so desperately requires. Before long, darkness envelopes everything around me, and the world becomes empty and black. It is an agonizing and brutal death. Despite having lost most of my sensory faculties, time continues to slowly trudge onwards. Limply I float, suspended in a vast, endless realm, darker than the darkest night sky. Barely aware of my own existence, I wait in an eternal prison. As if reveling in my helpless form, a disgusting smile watches from the distant stretches of the void. I cannot see it, but I know that it is there. Watching, and waiting. An ominous, disquieting grin. After seemingly hours of being in this state of limbo, neither alive nor dead, there is a sudden and inexplicable change; A fire ignites. In the beginning, it is almost unnoticeable, but soon it gains more and more strength. The flames flicker and dance across my feeble body, tracing the scars that adorn my chest and jaw. Vile flames that emit no light, yet burn with the heat of the sun. Stinging pain seizes me, but I am limp and unable to ease its wrath. My dried-up arms dangle at my side, no longer receiving the signals from my brain. That my nerves are sensing this ceaseless pain, yet cannot act on my behalf is absurd and defies all logic. With a gut-wrenching jolt, my all but mummified body immediately becomes animate. The frozen heart inside its lifeless husk commands itself into motion, and as such, my chest heaves in reply. The blood, so cruelly stolen from its host by means unfathomable, begins to flow once again. With blood, the body is rhythmically beaten into resuscitation. Shriveled veins and arteries swell to their former size, circulating enough oxygen to breathe life back into the pale tissue and muscle fibers. Like reinflating the deflated balloon that is my wretched form, I am brought closer and closer to my original state. At this time, the oxygen reaches my brain, and my sensory faculties become aglow with information. The frenetic transmission of said information causes my eyes to burst open in momentary convulsion. As if my entire body has just now woken up from a state of numbness, all of my nerves fire off uncontrollably. The pain is indefinable. ¡°Kkkh!?! AAAAARRRRRRGGGHHH!!! Ggggnnnngggghhhh!! Mmmmghhh!¡± My teeth violently grind together as I weather the relentless agony. It lasts no longer than ten seconds at best; However, due to the sheer degree of pain, it feels more like an hour. I have never felt anything as intolerable as this in my entire life, nor do I wish to ever experience such a thing again. After a brief pause, during which I lie panting miserably, I am somehow able to regain my composure. My brain feels hot and sore, while the color has yet to fully return to my surroundings. Flashes of light also bounce across my vision like mischievous fairies, playing hide-and-go-seek. These stroke-like symptoms somewhat bother me, but at least that pain from earlier has eased. Putting some strength into my right arm, I attempt to reach up and wipe the sweat from my brow. Unfortunately, this act is futile, as I am met with extreme resistance. It seems that I still have little control over my own bodily functions. The midday sun cheerily peeks through the thick layer of coniferous branches, while I am sprawled in miserable defeat upon the forest floor. Having lived through my encounter with the harvestmen, though just barely, it is my duty to reflect upon the circumstances that have unfolded. (But, really¡­) What the fuck just happened? I... Died? That really happened, right? Was I perhaps hallucinating? These aftereffects would suggest otherwise, however. Honestly, I am having trouble wrapping my head around this. In any case, I am alive now, of that much I am certain. Only that much... So I guess this means I must have regenerated, or something. I can vaguely recall it happening, despite supposedly having been dead. Just remembering that dark place sends shivers down my spine. Somehow, I do not wish to experience such a thing ever again. It is far too incongruous to be of benefit. Along with the stroke symptoms, there is a whir of static damping out any lesser sounds around me. It feels as if a disturbing entity is crawling across the back of my mind with its innumerable tentacles, wriggling and squirming like villi. I can sense it. Something has been opened, and something is slowly being released. I doubt that I will ever be able to close this opening again. The corruption will gradually accumulate and assimilate with me. A dire prophecy with unknown implications. Only time will tell. That said, I feel that there should be enough time before then to accomplish my goal. The rate of flow is weak, like the drip of a tap. I must be careful not to tamper with said drip, lest it becomes more serious. After waiting patiently for some time, the muscles in my limbs finally start regaining their functionality. Thus, with the gait of an elderly cripple, I drag myself towards the river¡¯s edge. My thirst has become problematic. Whether due to the regeneration, or from lying in the sun for hours, or both. Drinking the cool river water is entrancing, and I can feel my energy bolstering just from this act. It is the most refreshing water has ever tasted to me. While I revel in the partaking of the river¡¯s lifeblood, I catch a glimpse of something darting beneath the water¡¯s surface. A long slender fish speedily passes by on its way downstream. Seeing this sight a few more times as I stare emptily ahead, I come to a certain conclusion. If I am to continue on from here, I will soon need to eat. With a little preparation, I can tackle this problem quite easily. The only problem is that I will need fire to cook. I should find a sparsely wooded area along the river so as not to set the forest ablaze. That being the case, I am still weary from the regeneration. Walking on these unsteady legs will surely cause a pointless accident. It would be better to use the current from the river to ferry me to where I need to go. If I float on my back, it will take almost no effort to stay above water. Then the current will act as my legs. Genius! ¡°Now¡­ When was the last time I went for a swim?¡± It would be back when my sister and I went to the beach during summer vacation so many years ago. She was always needlessly athletic, so I had trouble keeping pace with her. I suppose our parents were there as well. It rained in the afternoon, did it not¡­? To remember such a thing now. How meaningless¡­ ¡°Wait for me, Gwyn¡­¡± Chapter III | Austerity of Guile, Fracture of Solace With no better ideas, I float aimlessly down the river for more than an hour, finding little of anything worthwhile. The current is rather swift, and the water is much colder than I was hoping it would be. On the other hand, the river is also very deep, so there is no worry of colliding with any obstacles in my path. Even when I put in the effort to keep a lookout, there are only trees to be found; So many trees. As far as I can tell, most of this river runs through an endless forest, save for that one clearing where I happened to spend the night. Perhaps I have entered some sort of prehistoric world, untouched by the greedy hands of man. Just about when I am starting to lose the sensation from my limbs, I spot what can only be described as a dirt road along the river¡¯s edge. Having at last come upon a worthy discovery, I decide to halt my leisurely venture and drag my soggy bones to shore. ¡°Finally¡­ Ungh...¡± My rejoice might be a little insipid for the occasion... Hoisting myself ashore, I attempt to remove my shirt and pants so as not to become hypothermic. However, I immediately stumble and land face first in the dirt. It goes without saying that with little room to break my fall, I am treated to a hearty mouthful of rocks. (So pathetic¡­) Only now have I realized how exhausted I have become. The long search, coupled with the all too abundant hallucinations have sapped any reserves I had stored up. I guess this is my body¡¯s way of recuperating itself after finally having deemed me safe. A bit of a warning would have been nice. Barely able to move, I sluggishly manage to unwrap myself from my clothes, down to my boxer-briefs. Like a cast-away stone, I lie by the riverside. The chance of catching hypothermia in this kind of situation is very high. Regardless, I have no choice but to rest here till I can move once again. (Today has been such an unproductive day.) It would be helpful if I could fall asleep just like this, though I cannot see that happening. Even when as physically exhausted as I currently am, I will not sleep... Cannot sleep¡­ If I have to spend an extended amount of time in this world, I will undoubtedly end up as [Falling Owl], one way or another; It is only a matter of time. I can only do my best to pick up any mess that he should make. Once sufficiently rested, about forty-five minutes worth, I begin making preparations. It is better to make a camp than to travel the highway just yet, as I am short on knowledge. Which direction leads to a town the fastest? If I were to make the wrong decision, I would instead be led further astray. I do not have the energy to waste on such a hapless journey. First I should figure out a way to get some of those delicious looking fish out of the river, and into my stomach. Boasting mere rocks for tools, there are not many options available at the moment. It is doubtful that I could fashion a viable spear using these blunt stones. ¡°Which just leaves¡­ A trap, right?¡± As it stands, this area does have all the makings of a proper camp. With the steady stream of fish from the river and plentiful wood to make a fire, I should have no trouble staying here for the immediate future. The spacious area beside the highway devoid of trees will even act as a built-in barrier, leaving little worry of burning down the whole forest. This is good news; I am beyond freezing. Using a few of the larger rocks by the river, I construct a moderately sized circle to act as the base of the fire pit. My camp will be nestled in a particularly open area, halfway between the river and the highway. Rounding up the wood is effortless, as there is no small shortage of fallen branches and dead trees to choose from. For tinder, I grab a bit of hanging moss which has become dry and brittle. Now I just need to light it somehow. Rather than banging two rocks together and praying for a spark, using the pinnacle of my primitive technology, I will whittle some sort of friction hand drill. Having only ever seen this done in videos, the chances of success do not weigh in my favor. Not to mention the preparations are cumbersome when I have nothing better than stones to work with. (I am so ill prepared¡­) Despite countless disadvantages, I manage to hack away enough of a rather straight branch to use it as a drill. Removing piece after piece, slowly the drill begins to take shape. The other half of the device, the baseboard, is just a split branch with a groove chipped into it. With all the parts assembled, and after much effort to build up the friction necessary to create an ember, the tinder ignites rather quickly. Sitting next to the warm fire makes all that time I had to spend lying in my undergarments, and fiddling with sticks and stones totally worthwhile. I am also able to lay my tattered clothes onto the ground around the fire to dry. Finally, an achievement of merit, though I still need to fix my food situation. Unlike the fire, making the trap takes much, much longer than I thought it would; Twelve hours, in fact. To find the vines, sticks, and twigs takes little time at all. Weaving the conical basket and inner funnel, on the other hand, takes a whole eight hours of back-breaking work. With no twine to speak of, there is no choice but to struggle to hold it all in place as I build them; Otherwise, the whole mess would spring apart like a firework. It is truly grueling work under the blazing sun. Next, I make a vine-woven fence to place into the river that should redirect at least a few of the fish into the trap. While this part is far easier than the basket, it still takes close to four hours to complete. By the time I finish weaving both contraptions, the sun begins to dip below the horizon. If I do not pick up the pace, I will soon be working blindly. Luckily, the remainder of setting this trap is child¡¯s play in comparison to the rest. Punishing, exhausting child¡¯s play. Nevertheless, having become so painfully hungry, I am burning with a ravenous intensity. Running mostly on adrenaline, as I near the peak of concentration, I silently complete my task. Using a long branch as a makeshift shovel, I dig out a channel with vigor. The river grows ever swifter and deeper as it gets closer to the center, so I need to build a more suitable environment for the trap to be placed in. Setting guideposts into the slower moving channel, I then fasten the basket and the water fence in place, strapping it all together with vines. Thus, I finish my masterpiece, only to collapse in a heap next to the fire. My entire body cries out in utter agony, while fresh blood seeps from my fingertips. Worn raw from the rough treatment up to this point, only now have I noticed the ragged state they are in. But more than anything, the throbbing headache that never goes away is driving me insane. I have to find some way to take my mind off this constant pain¡­ ¡°I should give it some sort of name now that I went through all the effort to make it. A name¡­ Erm¡­ Huh¡­ Eherty¡­? That sounds just right. Good luck with the fishing, Eherty.¡± It will take quite a while to catch anything, but it should be a lucrative investment so it was well worth it. In the meantime, I shall pass the night relaxing by the fire. I should spend my time wisely, but frankly, I do not even have the energy to think right now. By now, it has been almost forty-eight hours since the last time I slept; There are only two hours remaining until [Falling Owl] starts making my life difficult¡­ (Ah, what a mess I have gotten myself into. Damn that bastard clown!) ¡°At least bring me to a town or something¡­¡± Normally, in a situation like this, the protagonist would end up in a place with people, not the middle of nowhere. That is if I were to look at this in terms of it being a manga or a light novel. With no people around to guide the plot, how the heck am I supposed to figure out my next plan of action? It feels like an MMORPG without NPCs¡­ Then again, this is nothing new¡­ That sideshow freak always does the most conniving and sadistic things with no remorse. This is why I refuse to believe a single word that comes out of its mouth. Yet I fell for its nonsense again. Next time I see that bastard I will punch its retarded, masked face in; No excuses. (Ugh, thinking about that bastard is just going to make me go crazy¡­) ¡°What do you think I should do, Eherty?¡± I need to plan for the future. Everything up until now has been the prologue; From here on out, I will require meticulously decisive actions if I expect to accomplish my goal. I will do anything it takes to repay her. But first, I have to find her¡­ Regardless, I have insufficient information. To get more, I need to find some people, which means I need to find a town, which means I need to follow this highway. Not knowing how long it will take to get to said town is the problem. With nothing to carry drinking water with me, it is highly probable that I could become dehydrated along the way. In which case, it might be better to wait for someone to pass by. I wonder if they have cars in this world. From the torn up condition of the road it seems unlikely, but who knows, maybe they use wooden wheels instead of tires. I think I would prefer it if this world had at least some kind of technology though since manga and anime are great pastimes. In the case that this world only has a medieval understanding of technology, I will not hold back, you know. I will engineer a revolution by my own hands¡­ From the shadows, of course. Perhaps I can leave new technology on the street corner for people to find. That way, the ambitious ones would pick it apart in an attempt to learn how it works. If they revere some sort of Church, I could just leave them at the front step of the Pope. Someone as gullible as that might even believe it came from God itself. Radical change may bring about war, so if I give it straight to the Church, it would at least tickle their faith. Divine Providence, or some such. Hmm¡­ Is giving the Church that much power really the right thing? It might be better just let the wars go on. Otherwise, I might accidentally create some kind of madhouse, pig, clergy bastards, who lord over the population like filth. Yes, war is good. It is for the best¡­ I refuse to go the way of the emissary of the future. Having to keep up that kind of act the whole time would be exhausting. I dislike being in the spotlight, even one bit. (Hmm, who knew there was so much to think about?) Usually, when you read about world transfer you get the type of story where the protagonist is forced into some type of nonsense right away, like a hero, or whatnot. Now that I think about it, being summoned in such a remote place is not really that bad. A little closer to a town might have been nice though. Speaking of which, why did that clown take me here, to begin with? This is a fully legit, alternate dimension here. There has to be a reason for a figment of my imagination to pull off such a godlike feat; Most likely a selfish reason. Not that thinking about such meaningless things will get me anywhere. As it has been quite a few hours since I left Eherty to fish for me, maybe I should go check on her. I doubt there would be much fish yet since most of them will just swim right past the channel. Eventually, they should find their way inside, slowly but surely. The pitch darkness of night, having finally given way to the few rays of the early morn, I carefully make my way over to the channel where Eherty lies in wait. Peeking through the cracks in the woven basket, contrary to my jaded expectations, there is a forty centimeters long, somewhat meaty fish inside. ¡°You did it! Good job, Eherty¡­ But... What the hell is this?¡± Bizarre; Definitely a demonic looking fish. With sharp protrusions along its spine and brow resembling something like bone, as well as a number of squirming tentacles on its stomach, it is most unpleasant to look at. Not to mention the six beadlike eyes lining the nasal ridge. This thing truly looks like an alien creature. ¡°Is this thing even edible, Eherty? I do trust your judgment, but... I mean... Look at it, you know?¡± There is also a less gross looking, albeit two thirds smaller fish as well. The only problem is, it is much too thin and bony to eat. Thus, I begrudgingly let it go. Looks like tonight¡¯s meal is tentacle-fish. ¡®Sigh¡¯ I really would have liked to batter and fry this thing to make it look more appealing, but I cannot see that happening. I can only roast it like it is. As a precaution, I hack its stomach open with a pointy shard of rock, carefully removing the organs, then scrape the scales off as best I can. Holding a tiny piece of its meat to my tongue, I do this for a while to test for poison. If I had some type of reaction, I would have halted the test immediately. Thankfully, there were no signs even after fifteen minutes, so it is likely safe to ingest. For efficiency¡¯s sake, I hack off the tentacles and poke them on skewers, then do the same with the main body. The tentacle skewers rest on the edge of the base, while the main dish rests on the two y-shaped wooden posts on either side of the firepit. ¡°I may be in the middle of the wilderness, but I gotta have some class. Am I right, Eherty?¡± This camp is not so bad. A serene sanctuary of nature, if you will. Nevertheless, I am quite concerned about what that clown said about Gwyn. I hope someone passes through here quickly¡­ ------------ It has been a whole week¡­ Do people even travel on this road? Currently, I am only living the shadow of a life. I eat nothing but fish from the river, work on my camp in my free time, and all the while I slip further, and further into insanity. Though it may seem similar to my life on Earth, this world has no lifelines to rely on¡­ Eight days without sleeping or taking my pills is too much. My mind is ablaze, and the structure of my sanity is crumbling down around me. The maelstrom that is the [Black Corona] has begun to swallow me alive, even though I knew it was coming. I am losing my grip; Fading¡­ Sinking down into the depths¡­ Hallucinations have been running rampant in this place. Anywhere I go and everywhere I look there is some sort of distortion. Even the sun has turned an eternal shade of black. It is becoming hard to tell reality and illusion apart. Why did I ever think I would be able to manage this feat. I feel unstrung, and the visage I see in the reflection of the water is a withered ghost of my former self. Along with pallid skin, disturbingly dark circles surround my blood red eyes. I perfectly resemble some kind of monster¡­ And I certainly feel like one. The revolting specters that multiply as days go by, never leave my presence. Becoming strong enough to take a firm grasp of my mind, they haunt me, like horrid hosts of the darkness beyond the brink. Out of all the gruesome shapes they take, such as the long, bloody eyestalks, with large square pupils, or the protruding limbs, whose rotten flesh drips from the bone, or even the slithering skeletal serpents, who burrow in and out of the ground, every one of them, nestled amongst the mountains of rotting flesh in the distance, paint a macabre picture of hell¡­ If any sane person were to see this spectacle morbidly displayed before me right now, they would either scream while vomiting till they pass out, or simply die in place, their heart having given up the fight. There is little solace from this madness, but¡­ Amongst all these horrid aspects, there are at least a few things to look forward to. The fish for one tastes pretty good, although I wish I had seasonings to put on it. After a few long days, I thought about giving up my vigil to try traveling down this road in whichever direction, but I gave up after a half day of walking. I am so hopelessly far in the middle of nowhere that I would never make it on foot. Even my concern for my sister has taken on an inextinguishable form. The scars that she left me have literally been on fire lately, with a small flickering black flame constantly smoldering upon them. I have tried countless times to douse them in water, but they just keep burning. Hallucination or not, being on fire at all times still wears you down. All in all, you could say I am quite unwell. My future is rather grim¡­ ¡°Eherty, do you think someone will come by today?¡± I sit in my chair, made of sticks and woven vines, confronting my only ally in this crazy abyss. ¡°{It seems unlikely, gero. I do not sense any presences in the relative vicinity, gero. I apologize, Master, gero.}¡± ¡°Is that so¡­¡± I figured as much¡­ The fish trap, Eherty, after about two days, manifested herself in the appearance of a brown frog. It is my firm assumption that she is hallucinatory, but I have still been conversing with her just the same. The goofy, inorganic way she speaks is a bit lacking though. In comparison to her, that demon-eyed girl is like a breath of fresh air. Somehow, I think I miss that cute little cuspid. Hold the insidious antagonism though, that I can do without. It seems that in the end, I am only able to converse with my own delusions. How quaint¡­ ¡°Did you catch anything good today, Eherty?¡± The brown frog is currently sitting on my lap, while I wait for time to pass me by. Whenever she talks, she puffs up her chest pouch and opens her mouth, though her lips remain stationary. I keep thinking it might be humorous if she actually mouthed the words, but she never does. ¡°{I have successfully captured two pimpleyfish, two moonclownfish, and a green-speckled bone-dingler, gero. There are also three evil-eyed pulp-bloaters mixed in, gero. That is everything, gero.}¡± ¡°Lucky! Two pimpleyfish and a bone-dingler? Good job, Eherty.¡± ¡°{No, no, gero, it is the least I could do for the one who created me, gero¡­}¡± Is that supposed to be shyness? I somehow have mixed feelings. She is a frog, you know? Did I really need this much self-gratification? Then again, I guess I have become the main character. In that case, should she not have turned into a girl, or something anime-like? Despite that, a week and a half have gone by with little-or-no change in my situation. If this was an anime, I sure as hell would never watch it. ¡°Well, since you finally caught a bone-dingler again, I will definitely have some tentacle skewers.¡± That gross-looking boney fish, or ¡°Green-Speckled Bone-Dingler¡±, actually turned out to be pretty delicious. Especially the tentacles. Those are my favorite. Among the other fish, the ¡°Pimpleyfish¡±, a disgusting, brown, bumpy fish with long whiskers, is the best tasting. Then there is an appetizing purple and black-striped clownfish lookalike I dubbed ¡°Moonclownfish¡±. The ¡°Evil-Eyed Pulp-Bloater¡±, is not delicious like the others. If you touch this red, big-eyed fish it will puff up, and spray a yellow, mushy mist from its body. If you happen to come in contact with said mist, it irritates the skin and causes an itchy rash for days. Definitely poisonous, I have learned firsthand. In order to get that fish out without poisoning the others, I have to let them into the buffer canal I added in the back. That way, I can scoop up the good fish first. Since they never attack other fish, it is likely a defense mechanism against birds or mammals. ¡°Which would you like, Eherty?¡± ¡°{I am fine with whatever Master decides, gero.}¡± Being part of my imagination, you should know that I did not want that kind of wishy-washy answer. You might as well have just slapped me in the face. Wait¡­ Maybe she has a grudge against me or something? Do even frogs have hidden agendas now? ¡®Sigh¡¯ ¡°You do realize I lose face when you say such trifling nonsense, right? Know the line between humility, and obsequiousness.¡± ¡°¡± Ugh¡­ Then there is that¡­ Has she been doing it on purpose? Is this some new form of torture? How can anime characters handle the ¡°Master, Master¡± thing? When I have someone call me that for real it is cringeworthy. ¡°I thought I told you to call me Wade. Is my name shameful to you?¡± ¡°¡± Now I sound like some kind of superhero! ¡°WA-DE! Just¡­ Wade¡­ Okay?¡± ¡°¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°¡­¡± Well¡­ I shall let that one slip. But only because that was rather refreshing. Do not think I will let you off the hook again, Eherty. I am a passive person, but if someone requires water-boarding to get rid of bad habits, I will be more than willing to assist. Although in this case, it is a frog, so maybe¡­ ¡°Fire-boarding¡±? What am I doing getting annoyed at my own imagination? With all this ridiculous stuff fluttering about around me, I am steadily becoming warped. I need to get some kind of drugs before I go insane¡­ After preparing the fish, I throw them on the spit. I tried my luck at making a few animal traps, but I have no twine so anything I make is doomed to mediocrity. I actually saw a rabbit-thing come out of the brush a few days ago; A giant one, as big as a dog. Its body was brown, with green leaf-like plates on its back. At first, I thought I might try grabbing it, but the damn thing ran as fast as a¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Bicycle, so it got away¡­ Eh¡­? Wait¡­ What¡­? ¡°Oh shit! The food!¡± Damn you [Falling Owl]! What a vile time for you to show your face! How long has it been since I passed out? Well¡­ From the look of the fish, it was only about eight to twelve minutes, though that in itself is a new record. ¡°Phew. Lucky they are still fine, right Eherty¡­?¡± ... No reply¡­ Actually, I cannot find that annoying frog anywhere. Is she hiding? Honestly, that pest. One minute she is all ¡°Master, Master¡±, and the next she just up and leaves? I am beginning to think she was messing with me this whole time. As I start to head over and check on the fish trap, I immediately understand what the problem is. Thereupon the shore, a gigantic feline beast is clawing at the trap. No doubt trying to get at the fish inside¡­ She has been torn to shreds¡­ ¡®Tch¡¯ ¡°Rest in peace, Eherty¡­¡± When did this monstrous thing even get here? It looks like a lion-sized cross between a panther and a lynx. Big and black, with long, flared whiskers, bulging muscles, and a black and white tail. Ah¡­ It must have come when I was unconscious. How could I have not noticed its presence before then? Fortunately, it did not attack me right away, or I would have been toast. Now, what should I do? I would really like to refrain from fighting a panther since odds are I take more than a little damage. That said, can I even outrun something like that? The answer is pretty obvious when you look at the size of the muscles on that thing. Quietly, I ready myself to engage the panther. There is little chance I will win, but I have no way to escape either. If I can make it to the makeshift windbreak I built to sleep under, I will at least have a weapon. It may just be a shoddy wooden spear, but it is much better than not having one at all. Apparently having little interest in my worries, it continues to pry apart the already dismembered fish trap, completely ignoring me. When this creature is finished with the fish trap, it is likely to go after the food by the fire. Like hell I am going to let this glutton eat my prized tentacle-skewers. (No matter what, I have to get that spear.) With due diligence, I quietly tiptoe to the windbreak, mostly unnoticed. That was much easier than I thought it would be... Oh well. Having equipped myself, I must now firm my resolve. I cannot die until I have repaid my debts in full. Like this, I become fixed upon the target in front of me. The moment to fight has come. ¡°Oi, cat! Look what you did! I spent more than half a day working on that¡­ How are you going to repay me?¡± Hearing my threat, it turns to look at me with a strange glare. Is it afraid of me? I guess wild animals are just like that; Take no chances and such. But you stole from me beast; I am taking back what is rightfully mine. ¡°Pretty sure I could make a decent blanket from that fine pelt¡­ If I had something sharp to cut with. Oh, wait¡­ Hmm¡­ Your fangs look something fierce, do they not?¡± ¡®Flinch¡¯ Hey, is it just me or is this cat not abnormally scared? I am not some kind of monster, you know. At least¡­ Not literally¡­ No, something else seems to be the problem. Its eyes do not seem to be looking towards me; More like, behind me? I have a bad feeling about this. ¡®Glance¡¯ Yup. Wow! What a sight. That is clearly a golem, in the flesh. Towering at least ten meters above me like some kind of foreboding idol, it dwarfs the two-meter tall windbreak in front of it. Just by standing there, it perfectly blocks out the sun. The golem is made of a type of black mineral, and vines with deep-blue flowers creep across its surface. The long arms, which appear to be suspended almost-magnetically somehow, loom by its side menacingly. Should I be worried? It looks slow; Or rather, how did it sneak up on me? This thing is huge, so it must make a racket when it moves. Perhaps it flies then. Though I do not understand how, with all that weight. It seems that scaredy-cat ran at the first chance it got. Damn¡­ There goes my blanket. Nevermind. For now, I need to get out of the way. If that thing strikes, I definitely cannot counter it¡­ Ducking and rolling to the side, I try not to expose any weaknesses. However, the black golem stands motionless. I guess it is quite slow after all. Or not¡­ ¡®Swoooooooosh!!¡¯ ¡°Ehh!?¡± With a catastrophic impact, the meager break I spent the better part of two hours building is reduced to shrapnel. Thankfully, the deadly flying debris somehow misses me. Otherwise, I would have been swiss cheese. This bastard just lobbed a haymaker at me! Turns out, it is surprisingly fast. Rotating its arms around its body like a gyroscope, huge centrifugal force is built up in the process. Forget about countering, I need to get the hell out of here! (But my tentacle skewers¡­) Fine, I will just have to grab a few on the way by; That is, if I can avoid this stupid golem. Now that I think about it, why is this thing attacking me? I have been at this camp for a week and it never appeared before, so why now? Well, I can think about that later. Luckily, I manage to grab a couple skewers as I sprint past the firepit. I will head in the opposite direction than last time, so maybe I will meet someone, or find a town. Not much I can do against a giant stone golem, right? ¡®Sigh¡¯ ------------ I only left forty minutes ago and I already miss my camp. Walking sucks, you know? I have had enough of it already. The only thing I do lately is to walk aimlessly for kilometers. Why the hell does nobody travel on this forsaken road anyways? I made myself a pair of sandals when I was at the camp, but they suck too. Made of only vines and bamboo, that much is obvious. They are better than nothing though. That golem has not followed me; Either that, or it is so slow it cannot keep up. I no longer doubt its arm speed but have no conclusive evidence of its gait. Just what made it attack me now of all times? Lots of annoying things have happened all at once. [Falling Owl], the panther-thing, Eherty dying, that golem, and also my skewers. Speaking of which, how did that golem even move in the first place? I doubt it is an animal, so magic¡­? Maybe¡­ But that proves there is definitely magic in this world. ¡°Magic, huh¡­?¡± I am clearly missing something. I need to meditate and get all my rampant thoughts in order; Coalesce everything I have learned about this abominable world. I feel like I am on the edge of a breakthrough, but cannot quite reach it. There is something hindering me, like some sort of floodgate locked in place. I think I have traveled a safe distance by now, so let me try it out. Finally deciding, I plop myself down on the side of the road. Carefully settling into a comfortable seated position, I straighten my back and breath deep, concentrated breaths. I am going to meditate to clear the shadows from my consciousness, and finally, reveal the truth of the matter. Breathe¡­ Calm my mind¡­ Focus on the emptiness¡­ I am the world, and I am nothing¡­ ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± (¡­!?) ¡°{Wade, Wade, Wade¡­ Is it any wonder why you could never manifest anything of value, what with you doing everything within your power just to suppress it?}¡± Revulsion. I taste a sour flavor on my tongue as that wicked being exudes forth its poison into the surroundings. The grass that it touches becomes withered and grey, and the shadowy smoke that leaks from behind its mask oozes a sense of the vile madness of the [Black Corona]. Composure¡­ I am meditating, and as such, I refuse to let this harken of dissonance spoil my sanctuary. I know of no such things that it speaks of, and I wish nothing more than that. No¡­ No, wait... ¡°{I see, you have noticed. I expected nothing less. Kyish shyi shyi¡­}¡± ¡®Tch¡­¡¯ ¡­ ¡°{Since I¡¯ve brought you here, it appears you¡¯ve regained much of your guile. I¡¯m quite inspired, Wade. But due to this, you¡¯ve only become lost; Awash in the confliction between what you want, and what you must do to obtain it. You cannot fight it, Wade. You chose this path from the start, you see?}¡± ¡°I will not be led astray by your rambling, demon! Save your verbosity for someone with the time to listen to it¡­¡± ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± It burns! My scars are seething from the intensity of the flickering tongues of heat embracing them. I will not falter, Gwyn. I must not dip into that corrupted void. I must stand on my feet, lest I be swept towards calamity once again. My will is adamant in its resolution. I cannot afford to fail. I will not fail! ¡°I know all of it! I know why you brought me here, demon. I know what kind of harrowing prophecy you foretell and I know the twisted, dark heart that you hide beneath your masks. It is morbid and it is vile, and I shall have nothing of it. Now leave, foul thing!¡± Still and silent it stays, as it stares beyond my eyes, into the depths of my consciousness, extrapolating my mind from within. The tension, like thick mercury, until either one of us breaks free from our death gaze. The mask of the pierrot upon its face remains unchanging. ¡°{As you will, Wade¡­}¡± It concedes as it folds into its signature bow. Like a puppet cut loose from its strings, it hangs there in silence. ¡°{However¡­}¡± Suddenly, raising only its masked face to look in my direction, ever so slowly, it peels the mask to the side. With this, the terrible secrets that lurk from within are revealed. Terrible, terrible, secrets... I scowl, as I am once again shown this abomination¡¯s true face; Or lack thereof. As if the mask acts as the stopper on all the madness of the void, the horrifying, endless emptiness of the [Black Corona] is unleashed from underneath. The air begins to vibrate, and the deafening sound resonates with a force that penetrates even to the molecular level. It is indescribable in its grandiosity, quaking the fabric of space in its wake. ¡°{{C4n y0U AFf0rD t0 dIsMiSs tHiS BeCk0NinG 0f uNt4pPeD p0w3R Y0u sQu4UnDoR, eV3n iN tHE fAc3 oF sUcH aDv3rSitY?!1?}}¡± ¡®BWOOOOOOM!!¡¯ The sheer gravitational force of the monstrous energy emitting from the now uncorked distortion brings me to my knees. I am left panting as my blood runs backward, and all semblance of composure is erased from my facade. This pressure is but a fragment of the true, unfathomable vileness, sealed within the depths of the [Black Corona]. That this bastard would crack open the seal of its own volition, I cannot understand. What utter hypocrisy. I am not so sure my body will last through much more of this unabated, explosive display of power. The force of an atomic bomb is literally warping the ground around me. The surroundings are becoming concave, bending to the devastating mass of the dense, eruption of energy. A crater the size of a city block is carved out of the forest with me as the epicenter, as debris is hurled away from the shockwave of the impact that is crushing me. I cannot hold up, I knew this even before. Then, why did I come here? Why did I abandon my fortress of pills, and agree to that bastard¡¯s whims in the first place? I am forever becoming hung up on the contradictions I have brought upon myself. What must be done is simple, I just cannot accept it. No¡­ I will never bend, and I will never fall mercy to the monster that is buried here. I will do what I came here for, and I will use any means to accomplish it. I will repay my debts! ¡®Tch¡¯ ¡°GAAAAAAARGGGGH!!!!¡± Let the record state that I am still hesitant about using this power¡­ But, it is far too late now¡­ ¡°Fine! Is this what you wanted!!??¡± A countering force begins to push upwards onto the one from before, causing a warping bubble to appear inside. The bubble stretches and pierces through it, blasting high into the atmosphere. The huge, black field of energy, having its center destabilized, begins to expel outwards in a ring, vaporizing everything for tens of kilometers. As the wave subsides, I am relieved of the pressure atop me, so I stand and brush away the dirt. My current state is quite unsettling, having tapped into that which I so tried to avoid. Apart from the bulging, darkened veins, stretching across my body, a haunting aura is creeping out from me. My aura blots out the light and has enough concentrated energy to cause the nearby vicinity to vibrate uncontrollably. There is enough friction heat generated that even the water in the air is evaporated, causing steam to rise from my surroundings. I have only pulled out a minute fraction of the power of the [Black Corona], but I can already feel it seeping into my mind. The sickening darkness is starting to absorb my entire being, as it pours out from the void. I must finish this quickly, and put an end to what has come to pass. The clown has dissipated, having accomplished what it came for, and in the distance is none other than the golem, which has finally caught up. It survived the catastrophe from before, somehow. However, red cracks spread across its surface, probably from the heat of the explosion. If the clown wants me to fall prey to this power as a means of dealing with that lumbering sack of stones, I will show him that which I have decided. Sure, I will tap into this power, but I will use it for my own means. Then, when the time comes, I shall send it back to the void. I will be the victor in this war of attrition. Swiftly, I break into a jog towards it, spreading havoc in my wake. The ground beneath me is becoming hot enough to melt itself, leaving a path of molten rock spanning behind. Any debris from the ground that actually makes it into the air is immediately disintegrated by the vibrations. The golem is still about two kilometers away, so I sprint. The muscles in my legs, now overflowing with the corrupted energy siphoned from the [Black Corona], move with such vigor that the ground fractures with each step. I feel my heart sink deeper still, as I run towards this obsidian behemoth faster than any living creature has ever gone before. The sound around me travels so much slower than me, I can no longer hear a thing. As I approach the golem like a bullet, it begins spinning one of its arms horizontally around its body at a ferocious speed. The other arm waits above its head, ready to smash the ground when I come within range. It has apparently deemed me worthy of unleashing its full power, unseemly as it is. This much is of little consequence to me since it is unlikely to survive the damage it is about to receive. A simple punch is nothing like what I have in store for it. Passing right by the gyrating arm of the golem, I move so fast that it has no time to attack with its other arm. Everything begins to move in slow motion, as my concentration hones in on the golem¡¯s body structure; Until finally, we are almost standing still. The glowing cracks on the surface of the sleek, black golem form a web, radiating from a single indentation; The perfect target to aim for. Like stalled clockwork, my smoldering fist rests right at the center of the web, as I contemplate whether everything is correctly in place¡­ The event acts as waves, spreading out from the point of impact. First, the force from my momentum is absorbed by the golem, which immediately explodes into pieces, becoming inanimate shrapnel in the process. Next, the shards of rock further dissolve into dust, as the pressure wave continues to push further and further from where it started. At this point, the golem is already a thing of the past, but the calamity has just begun. A draining sensation pours out from my body, like a river flowing through my veins. Suddenly, my carefully planned attack is sent hurtling out of control. A black mass begins to form in the center of the earlier pressure wave, soaking up all of the force around it, effectively absorbing the blast. (I have a bad feeling¡­) Quickly, I plant my foot in the ground, as I catch the strange mass inside my palm; Grinding to a halt. Hurriedly, I point my right hand towards the sky, exposing the still-forming ball of darkness to the air. All the hair on my body begins to stand on end, as the static surrounding the densely packed energy ball, erupts into the surroundings in coils of discolored, dark lightning. ¡®Fztfztfztfztfztfztfztfztfzz!¡¯ ¡°Nnngh!¡± More and more energy is being sucked from my body, against my will. Just how much energy can fit into this acorn-sized ball? It is so hard to control that I am no longer able to move. Everything around me is dark, like all the color is being sucked out of the scenery, and the rumbling is deafening. Finally, I feel the draining start to slow down. The black mass begins moving erratically, rattling my whole right arm, so I steady it with my left one. Things are about to turn sour, so I shut my eyes to protect them. ¡°Ungh¡­!?¡± ¡®TZZZzzzzfffuuuu¡­¡¯ All of a sudden, a great weight is lifted from my body, and the roaring sound from before comes to an end; However, I do not hear any kind of an explosion. All the sound simply fizzles away, off into the distance. I suppose it is safe to assume that whatever that black mass was, has now safely fired into the atmosphere. I have successfully averted the worst case scenario. The result of all of the energy being drained from my body is utterly devastating. Since the only thing holding me up had been the gravitational pull of that black mass, I quickly crumble to the ground. I wonder how far that thing actually went¡­? Deeming it no longer a danger to open my eyes, I scan the sky above me, looking for any clue as to what has happened. The black mass has simply vanished, but thanks to its aftermath, it is obvious where it has gone. In the sky, far beyond the cleanly parted clouds, though almost unnoticeable to the naked eye, I can faintly make out a blemish on the smallest of the three moons that I swear had not been there before. Chapter IV | Sea of Fog, Fortress of Steam Amidst the densely-packed woods, a stage-coach, wrought of iron and copper, dredges along a shoddy dirt road. This stage-coach has no horses to pull it. Instead, being equipped with a grand steam-powered engine. The sky is dismal, as the midday sun hides behind thick, grey clouds. A heavy fog blankets everything far and wide. The driver of the stage-coach, an aged looking man wearing a tailcoat and bowler hat, is only capable of seeing a short distance ahead of him. His only salvation is two oil lamps on either side of the vehicle. Within the interior of the carriage, are four figures seated facing each other. On one side is a family of three, mother, father, and son, on the other, huddles a shivering man wrapped in a hooded robe. ¡°You sure surprised us, suddenly appearing before the carriage like that. How in the name of Gods did you end up so far in the middle of the forest?¡± The father inquires to the robed figure, who simply remains motionless, save the constant trembling. ¡°I see, I¡¯ll leave it at that. You must have gone through enough. Wouldn¡¯t want to pry. Thank heavens we found you when we did though, or who knows what kind of creature or beast might have happened upon you.¡± ¡°B-beast, huh¡­¡± The robed man appears weak, and not just in a physical sense. His attitude is frail, while his attention seems distracted. A nervous tension breathes out from beneath the hood. This does nothing to put off the talkative father though, as he continues initiating the non-profitable conversation. His outward personality is most likely the reason he has even bothered to pick up such a straggler in the first place. ¡°John. My name is John Watts, and this is my lovely wife Palsha. This little scamp here is my seven-year-old son Benton. You caught us just as we were coming back from visiting Palsha¡¯s parents in Faltherhen. It¡¯s a good thing we took this barely traveled road through the woods so¡¯s to keep out of traffic, am I right? Haha!¡± The man floats a handsome smile as he laughs. A smile that would cause anyone to smile along with him. However, hidden by the cloak, the other man¡¯s reaction is unknown. Only the desperate shivering is apparent. ¡°Lately there¡¯s been a great deal of immigrants from the smaller villages, now that we opened up the coal mines. People looking for work, I say. Lots of new businesses are opening up because of it.¡± ¡°B-business is b-booming¡­¡± ¡°I should say so. Fort Wayfield¡¯s progress is certainly on the rise. Soon we¡¯ll be as bustling as Bronzegate, or so I¡¯d like to say. However, Bronzegate has much more heavy industries than the likes of Fort Wayfield. In time though, thanks to the new coal mines, I can see us becoming a city not to be trifled with.¡± Although the sarcastic quip from the robed hitchhiker is certainly made in malice, such opinions go unnoticed due to John Watts¡¯ joyful, self-absorbed ignorance. The wife also enjoys hearing her husband speak of such times of progress, while the son simply stares out of the carriage window, into the gloomy fog. This positively beaming fellow, dressed in black, fitted pants and white shirt, topped with wool vest and suspenders, looks very much the part of a dapper Victorian man. The wife, also dressed in a Victorian-styled, black, flowing dress and articulate bonnet, almost looks ready to visit a funeral. John¡¯s hair is black and swept back neatly, and on his face lies a well-shaped mustache. His wife Palsha however, has blond curled hair, done up to the side extravagantly. The whole family exudes an air of elegance. Even the son sports a miniature version of his father¡¯s outfit, save the vest, with similar swept-back, black hair. Steeped in the taste of luxury, it is obvious that this family could be considered moderately wealthy. In comparison to this dashing family, the haggard-looking man seems more like some sort of homeless vagrant. While only his bushy, black beard, streaked with silver, can be made out from beneath his robes, underneath, his outfit is odd and disheveled, as if having been under attack by wild animals. When the man was first picked up, he was given the robe. The woods were very chilly, despite it being midday and early summer. He hesitated at first, but eventually received the robe, due to John¡¯s pressuring insistence. The conversation also seems to be continuing solely due to John¡¯s diligent, although misguided, consideration. It is a wonder how these sheer opposites even managed to cross paths with one another¡­ ------------ I have had enough... If this barbarian refuses to shut up, he is going to sorely regret it. I am in no state to put up with a bumbling imbecile, who clearly knows next to nothing of the consideration of others. Though I may be an outlier in this sense... Aah. Why must this fool speak a language I can understand when we are not even from the same world? Broken logic. Yet in my current condition, I have no choice but to accept his kindness, this ingratiating bastard. I will not be able to keep up with this charade much longer though. I have learned the truth of this world, and I have become attuned with the phantom that haunts me, but accomplishing such feats has brought severe repercussions. I am in quite a bad way, you know¡­ Dipping my toes into that vile mass, my body is paying the price. The body¡¯s natural reaction to toxins is a woeful thing. No amount of antibiotics will save me now; I can only ride out the storm. Just like that demon clown said, all things do have their price. Then, what have I learned? I surmise that this world is far from what I was expecting. It is a land of magic and swordsmanship, sure, though such things are obsolete. The technology appears to be at the level of the industrious age of steam; Victorian if you will. Science is the way of this world. A regular steampunk paradise, or so I have learned from this idiot. That alone is fine, I like both fantasy and steampunk genres. Sticking them together should work, maybe. But, how did I end up here? What force is it that has caused my transfer from Earth to this whole other world? Let us think back to when I fought the golem. It was odd that it only attacked after I had been here for longer than a week. From the moment I got here, the only thing that has changed has been the spread of my illness. Which means I have been targeted solely due to this fact. This narrows the possibilities substantially. Cross-dimensional travel is not a technology from Earth. Such a thing is just not feasible. Therefore the means originated from a third-party, on this side. Who? How? If their world runs on steam then they are much worse off than Earth in that respect. However, this world has magic, the only explicable reason for that golem¡¯s movement. So a mage summoned me to this world, only to leave me to perish in the woods? Doubtful. It is more likely that I have been brought for a specific purpose. I mean, think about it¡­ Since coming here, I have done nothing but destroy things. The person in question must have known such a thing would happen. I can only see these results being preemptive. Ugh¡­ I feel like I have been playing right into their hands. Someone is trying to do very cliche villain-like things to this world, and I have been subjugated as a mercenary on the frontlines. I refuse to be the villain in your place, you lazy bastard. If I am to become a villain, it will be by my own rules. Though that changes very little in the long run¡­ (What am I, a natural disaster? No matter what I do, I see only a bad end¡­) ¡®Sigh¡¯ In the end, I am a person that doubts first, asks questions later, and if all else fails, will prepare a cavalry of escape plans to protect myself. In this case, I have only just barely come out on top. At least the hardest part is over with¡­ You see, when you read about the typical character of a transfer story, you usually get stuck with one of three types. The first is someone who stumbles upon their powerful ability early on in the story and spends most of the rest of the time hiding it from others. The second is someone who gradually builds a sturdy foothold after much work, thanks to several plot devices spread through and about the story. The last is someone of great ability to begin with, who may or may not use his power in the story after their transfer. There are some other quirks like gender-swap, race change or some such, but they still tend to fall into those three categories. Finding the guiding trait is the hardest part, and usually, the rest of the story falls into place from there. I am what you would call an amalgamation of the first and third type. Although initially having my guiding trait, its true potential only showed itself after my transfer. Too bad I ended up with one of those deleterious powers you would stick on a moody antihero. Then again, I deserve nothing more. Based on what I have deduced so far, I am fairly certain that the [Black Corona], after being translated into this world, falls under the category of a magic phenomenon. Thus, I gained a painfully useless trait as a side-effect of being its host. I shall name it¡­ [Corruption]. A forbidden technique of cataclysmic proportions. Damned if I ever use it though. Ever since my meditation on that first day, I have known what it has become but chose not to trust the facts. I can be stubborn, too. Since I would rather not be stuck with such a ticking time bomb, I just pushed it to the back of my mind. If not for that golem, I could have continued in ignorant bliss. Most likely it attacked when it did for just this reason. I guess it was only luck that I managed to hold it back; Either that or my resolve has been sorely underestimated. It is rather annoying that I still have yet to know who brought me here. Nonetheless, this will not change what I must do; Only makes my path that much steeper. I am going to find out what that clown is keeping from me. Regret making me your enemy. If Gwyn was brought to this planet after her death, I will do everything in my power and beyond to save her from facing the same fate as on Earth. Anyone or anything that gets in my way is my enemy, and before I am through, will kneel before me and beg for forgiveness; Otherwise, I will crush their existence into dust. If I must become the antagonist of this story to accomplish this task, I will hold no qualms. My resolve has become a fortress, and nothing will stop me. I am no longer suppressed, and my darkness will either become this world¡¯s greatest ally or the most terrifying force it will ever face. Be that as it may¡­ It is far more advantageous for me to practice stratagem and foresight in the face of adversity. I cannot handle such flagrant grandiose anyways. My strong points are more suited for stealth, or cloak and dagger. I no longer have the liberty to leave any possibilities unaccounted for; I have learned my lesson. What I need now is a steady quantity of information. Unfortunately, I suspect ¡°NPC Family 1¡± here, is likely from middle-class society. It is doubtful whether they could provide such a vast amount of knowledge on their own. They can, however, provide me with something else of use. Money. In civilized society, no matter how much gospel is spread otherwise, such a thing is as much a necessity as bread and water. Blending into the commoners of this world without a scrap of change on hand is not impossible, but I would prefer to have it as a crutch. A blessing in the case of an emergency. As such, I am in need of a charitable denizen, and luckily the flag has already been triggered. It is true that I am certainly in their debt, what with them bringing me to civilization and all. Nevertheless, I must prepare myself for the foreseeable events to come. No matter how feeble-minded they may be, these fellows are currently my only option in the matter. This is where I run into a very pertinent dilemma. Something that will play a part in all thought processes from henceforth. No matter what actions I must take from now on, there is one important guideline I must adhere to; Anonymity. Each and every annoying little detail will pile up, eventually becoming a ghost that will haunt me wherever I should go. I have already caused a disastrous ripple in the face of this world that cannot be taken back. A stain forever dyed the color of madness by the [Black Corona]. Thinking about the kind of ramifications that event might bring forth, I can only heave an empty sigh. But I will not give up. To make sure that such a tragedy never makes a second appearance, I must carefully plan ahead. It does me no benefits to gamble with fate. Of this I am certain. I will not let her down again. Not while blood still runs through my veins. (Now how shall I go about this¡­) There is any number of ways for me to obtain that which I seek from these fools. I could try a direct approach, though I would effectively be throwing any chance of remaining anonymous out the window. Perhaps it would be a better idea to try some kind of scam. These tragically honest fellows seem like the perfect targets for that type of thing. There is only one problem. Though unfortunate, it can be said that my conversational eloquence may prove¡­ Lacking. By no means does this reflect the inner workings of my mind. Rather, in that regard, I can unabashedly claim the opposite. It all boils down to practice, something I have little of as of late. To properly carry out this scam will require a delicate touch. It would be great if I do not mess this up... (Here goes nothing¡­) ¡°S-so, John was it? Er¡­ I apologize, i-it seems I have y-yet to introduce myself. H-Horrence Trapp... P-please, call me Horrence.¡± Bogged down with stammers and pauses, my not-so-handsome introduction goes as such. Frankly, I can barely converse. I have no problem chatting it up with the hallucinations in my head, but when it comes to a real live person, this is the result. So disappointing. Obviously, I have used an alias. There is no reason to give them my real name, and since not doing so will aid in keeping my tracks hidden, it is the best option. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you Horrence. Though the circumstances could¡¯ve been better.¡± ¡°W-well¡­ I r-really appreciate your a-aid in that matter. Er¡­ Thank you.¡± My tongue feels static and numb. Just forming words is a terrible ordeal. This is almost a disease in itself. ¡°Think nothing of it. It¡¯s the right thing to do.¡± That kind of logic will get you murdered by hitchhikers, you know. Not that I have any complaints. It is rather fortuitous that they came when they did, as I have been walking endlessly for hours. Besides that, my clothes are reduced to ribbons, and my sandals completely incinerated. I would be arrested immediately if I were to enter a town like this. ¡°A-also¡­ T-thanks for the robe.¡± ¡°Yes, well¡­ We couldn¡¯t very well have you going around looking like that now could we? Not on good conscience, that is.¡± I suppose now would be the best time to give some sort of backstory. Nothing too far-fetched, yet enough to fill in any suspicious points. With the state I am in, it will require quite a bit of smoothing over to seem plausible. ¡°I still r-remember that i-incorrigible beast that attacked me. That m-massive black frame, and r-razor-sharp fangs.¡± The cat that crashed my dinner party. I will use its easily recognizable form as the basis of this scheme. If that sickeningly caring John fellow¡¯s personality is as I suspect it is, this will draw out as much of his sympathy as possible. ¡°Hmm, an Abkir perhaps? Good Gods, man! You¡¯re lucky to be alive, I fear¡­ I shudder even thinking about encountering one of those monsters. They¡¯ll tear the iron straight off of a steam-boiler, I¡¯ve heard.¡± ¡­ ¡°I know, r-right...?¡± Thank you Eherty, for selflessly using your body as a sacrifice. And thank you strange golem for scaring that thing away. What a fool I was for thinking I could take it on with a wooden spear. ¡°T-that monster attacked our vehicle. We lost o-our belongings, our m-money, and my¡­ M-my wife, she¡­¡± ¡°You poor thing!¡± The wife now chimes in. The story appears to draw the whole family towards me. John and Palsha both adorn looks of deep, tearful sympathy. Even the previously uninterested Benton leans forward in his seat, his fists clenched and trembling. What a colorful family¡­ ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Horrence. You¡¯ve gone through so much. To keep moving on despite facing such horrors is¡­ Well, you¡¯re amazing, I¡¯d say.¡± (Thank you¡­ Thank you for being a gullible ham.) ¡°N-no¡­ I could not protect her. If only I had not l-listened to her back then. W-we should never have moved to b-begin with.¡± ¡°Horrence¡­¡± This is working eerily well. Even though the face beneath the cloak remains expressionless, the story is weaved with a sticky thread that binds this unsuspecting family¡¯s hearts. They are already strung upon my trap-like web. I embrace myself tightly, as a shiver runs down my spine. This reaction is in no way related to my scheming, however. Still reeling from the effects of drawing upon the seething force that is the [Black Corona], my body is in a state akin to being weaned off of some form of addictive substance. It has tampered with the natural order of things, the side-effects placing me under great physical strain. On a different note, I think the time has come. While not on purpose, the act of huddling inside the cloak like a newborn babe has luckily been attributed to the effects of coming into contact with such a traumatic event. This idiot, John, would most likely donate his blood for me by now, while Palsha seems ready to adopt me into their family register. I do not want to cause a scene, so I shall try and wrap this up before we reach town. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Ah¡­¡± ¡®Cough¡¯ I taste blood. I guess my body is not yet healed enough to be having such a demanding conversation. Not to mention, this migraine is starting to become a bit of a problem. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention¡­ It seems I now have some sort of regenerative power. Back when I was toyed with by that giant bug, I had assumed this was the case, even with a lack of evidence. Having woken up inside the crater nary a single scratch in sight, all doubts I had flew out the window. I could not have been unconscious longer than five minutes and it was already over. This trait does nothing to prevent toxins though, only repairs the damage. This explains my currently enfeebled state. My settings are so lackluster¡­ Oh well¡­ At least I managed to return from the darkness. If I had lost myself after all the stuff I said to that clown, it would have been a complete and utter embarrassment. I must stay grounded, and push past all the minor inconveniences that should pop up. ¡°W-what am I saying¡­ I m-must stay strong. If I p-pull through this... It must be possible to s-start anew. F-for her sake as well.¡± ¡°Of course, of course! That¡¯s the spirit Horrence!¡± ¡°Someday¡­ I h-hope to open my own little store. I-if I were to name it ¡°Holda¡¯s¡±, I c-could carry on her name¡­¡± The married couple is clutching their chest. The amount of sympathy exuding from them is unfathomable, considering none of what I speak of is the truth. Humans are such meager creatures. ¡°John Watts... You have h-helped me so much; I will definitely r-repay you in the future.¡± ¡°No, no, no! Repay me? My Gods, man! I couldn¡¯t possibly live with myself if you do such a thing. I¡¯ll have none of that, you hear? In fact, when we get to Fort Wayfield, you¡¯re coming to stay with us. I don¡¯t want to hear any complaints. Isn¡¯t that right, Dear?¡± ¡°Of course, John.¡± ¡°You¡¯re far too modest, I tell you!¡± ... ¡®Ahem¡¯ ¡°W-well¡­ If you t-truly insist. But would I not b-become a burden...?¡± ¡°No, I must implore you! You could never be a burden, Horrence.¡± ¡°We welcome you into our home with open arms.¡± So easy... ------------ The innumerable smokestacks, layered row upon row, send endless streams of smoke into the air. The smoke creates a forest of wavy, white trees upon the backdrop of the deep blue evening sky. Sounds of steam-engines chugging, people conversing, and the general drone of the townscape mix together. A bustling melody, that saturates the surroundings with life. A towering, ten meter stone wall encompasses the entirety of the large town, with six magnificent gates, located where any of the main highways intersect it. Traffic is not inspected at these gates, despite the guards stationed therein. It is highly probable that these guards stand in wait, for the off chance of an attack from some outside force. The main highways are kept in much better condition than any I have seen so far, being paved with inset, rectangular stones, woven in a gorgeous display. Many vehicles of various types flow through these gates, as they leave and enter the town. The Watts family¡¯s steam-coach follows suit, passing under a large stone arch on its way into the town of Fort Wayfield. Hidden inside, I sit watching out the window, viewing the intriguing scenery beyond. (It certainly has taken me quite some time to make it to this blasted place.) Finally seeing it up close, nothing really goes beyond my expectations. The roads and buildings are much neater than I would have thought, and there are some things placed about that I am dubious as to the purpose for, but this is all well within one standard deviation. As we near the more crowded, commercial part of town, the roads are divided by a strange metal rail. This anomaly turns out to be the track for a very bizarre tramway. The wheels on the tram are replaced with gigantic gears, and it runs by following the large, evenly spaced teeth inside the hollowed rail. The wheels are powered by large steam engines at both the front and back of the vehicle. I wonder how they slow down or stop the tram? Perhaps one of the internal gears retracts, to cease the flow of torque. Or maybe they have rubber brakes? The tires I see around me are made of treadless rubber after all. A lot of devices I see around the town use heavy gears in their composition. They have been built with their gears on display, viewed through glass windows; Quite the prevailing theme around here. It certainly gives off a thick steampunk vibe when all around is smoke billowing, and gears turning. I really find these people¡¯s tastes in decoration appealing, with the dark and earthy color-tones and polished, brass accents everywhere. It is a pleasing change from the gaudy, bright-colored flair back on Earth. It almost makes one want to become an alchemist, or clockmaker, or something, you know? The hubbub quiets down a bit when we enter the residential district, though children can still be seen boisterously frolicking in the streets with their various toys and games. The packs of kids only move to the side momentarily to let us pass through, then return right back where they came. This carriage appears to be one of the larger, more advanced models since most other drivers ride in small town car types or open roofed clunkers. I guess I was right about the Watts¡¯ current monetary standing. Which is good, since I would rather not rob the poor, so to speak. Already an honorary member of their family, there should be no trouble if I were to crash at their residence while searching for information. I could even finagle a bit of financial backing along the way. Compared to unapologetically ransacking people¡¯s homes like the heroes in an RPG, I must say my way is far more tact. The long-awaited arrival at the Watts¡¯ family home is a bit of a pleasant surprise. ¡°Bu¡­!¡± (Gigantic!) The house looks similar to an old house you might see in a horror movie, except far more elegant and very well looked after. Exquisite borderwork lines all of the creases and windows, with intricate pillars and lattices scattered all across the face of the house. I feel that the amount of craftsmanship is a bit over the top. (Rich people are so illogical¡­) The whole estate is bordered by an ornamental, bronze-colored fence, and the sprawling yard is neatly taken care of. The trim stone path that circles a classy fountain, the brightly colored gardens littered about the yard, everything is of such quality that a gardener must regularly tend to them. Somehow, knowing this magnificent house is owned by that idiot family leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Then again, it could just be the taste of blood from earlier. I could not stand living in such a flamboyant house anyway; Though haunting it might be nice¡­ Following the butler, whose name is... Grayson something-or-other, we enter the house and disperse into its depths. I personally follow John into the common room, as I have a job for him. Slumping onto a sofa, he languidly loosens the buttons on his shirt, like some sort of lounging politician. (It is all well and good to be tired after your long trip, but you still have business to attend to here. Shape up, John¡­) ¡°Er¡­ John. I h-hate to spring this on you, b-but could I a-ask you a few questions? S-sorry for the trouble...¡± How to speak correctly, how to get information out of you without blowing this whole operation, who in the world was it that brought me to this freaking place¡­? I have so many questions, yet they all seem above his payroll. ¡°No worries. If there¡¯s something I can answer, ask away.¡± The amount of information I have about this world is not appealing to me. In particular, pertaining to its laws and ethics. If I base all of my information off of what I know about Earth, and Victorian society, I will undoubtedly end up causing some sort of mishap. That being said, I am unable to simply ask about such things straightforwardly, as I have already established a backstory. I will have to tread carefully. ¡°Um¡­ Those g-guards¡­ There w-was no inspection or a-anything.¡± ¡°Ah. Well, the policy around these parts doesn¡¯t call for such a thing. They¡¯re mainly there in case a large group of Beastkin should attack. In such cases, they would immediately close off the gates to traffic, until the threat is dealt with.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± What is with the lack of border security? Are they not worried about smugglers, or terrorists? Sure, with the rate at which traffic seemed to be flowing into the town, it would be ludicrous to expect a detailed inspection of each vehicle. Even so, those guards gave us not so much as a glance. It is absolutely nonsensical to have such a large number of guards standing around doing nothing. ¡°How e-economically unsound¡­¡± ¡°Hahaha. That¡¯s so true! Are you perhaps not from around here Horrence?¡± ¡°W-well¡­ You c-could say that¡­¡± ¡°Is that right? I¡¯m not sure how it is where you¡¯re from, but in these parts, the Guild of Judgment takes care of those kinds of things. It might just be that Fort Wayfield is in such a secluded location that the guards have gotten a little lax.¡± John follows his supposition with a chuckle, displaying a foolish grin upon his face. His outward personality is quite frankly stifling. Regardless, something he said is bugging me. ¡°Guild of Judgment, huh¡­¡± I can pretty much imagine what kind of negative connotations such an ominous-sounding organization might entail. Without a doubt, they are unlikely to be a friendly existence to one such as myself. Perhaps I should steer the conversation elsewhere. ¡°John¡­ Do you h-happen to have a m-map that I could borrow...?¡± ¡°Why yes! Most certainly I do, my friend. I¡¯ll have Grayson bring it over right away. Is there anything else I can help you with?¡± How servile; Not that I can complain though. Right now I can take all the help that I can get. As long as I do not overstay my welcome, I will be sure to milk these fools like the money-dispensing cows that they are. ¡°N-no¡­ Well¡­ C-could you perhaps show me some of the¡­ Er... L-local currency? ¡°Ah, I see. You have come a long way, after all. I¡¯ll have Grayson bring us a bit along with the map. I shall return shortly. Feel free to make yourself comfortable while you wait. This is your home now too, Horrence.¡± With this, the restless man leaves momentarily to find the butler¡­ ¡®Sigh¡¯ As I gingerly sit upon the couch, I crack my wrist and neck joints, causing a pleasing feeling to spread throughout my body. They might not have any ill will towards me, thanks to falling brilliantly into my trap, but I still find conversing with real people painfully unnatural. (Am I really going to be all right in this world? Well¡­ One step at a time, I suppose...) Now that I take a look at this room, it sure fits with the whole theme of the place. Mostly hewn from hardwood, and lined with forest-green furniture, it feels like a fancy hotel or something. I am very uncomfortable here¡­ After a few idle minutes, the blundering fool returns with a rolled up parchment, and a brown, leather purse-like thing. Upon arriving, he passes me both items with a satisfied look on his face. I will not question his taste; However, that bulky thing looks kind of inconvenient¡­ ¡°I a-assume this is the map and c-currency?¡± ¡°That it is!¡± Accepting the map and bag from him, I quickly analyze the contents of the bag. I am dismayed by what I find. First of all, it is heavy! How in the world would anyone carry this around without developing some kind of back displacement problem? The contents are, simply enough, just an array of variously-sized coins. Only the quantity is outrageous; Hundreds of them, I would care to guess. I am troubled to no end by this ridiculous world. I should just destroy this forsaken place and take Gwyn back to Earth. (I suppose that is rather narcissistic¡­) Oh well, at least I have finally gotten my hands on some assets. Learning how to use them is a whole other matter though. Let us get down to business. ¡°Oi, you... NPC f-fellow. Can you t-tell me about these coins.¡± ¡°NPC¡­!? Um, Horrence, what does that mean?¡± ¡°N-nevermind the small stuff¡­¡± ¡°... Er¡­ Somehow, I feel like you¡¯ve glazed over something rather important. Well... No matter.¡± (It was you who said to make myself comfortable, you know¡­) ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ To start off with, there are Trinx. These are the lowest value of currency. They look like this.¡± While saying this, John picks out a small, dull grey coin and sets it on the table in front of the couch. It really is a bland looking coin with no definable features, save a slight indent around the circumference. ¡°Then there¡¯s this one, the Hex. A Hex represents ten Trinx.¡± This time, a slightly larger coin is taken from the bag, then placed next to the previous one. Its hexagonal shape and rustic copper hue make it far more distinct than its predecessor. ¡°Moving along there is the Pix, worth fifty Trinx, or five Hex.¡± The next coin, drawn from the bag, increases in size yet again. Though also hexagonal in shape, this silvery coin shines with a metallic sheen, making it very appealing to behold. ¡°Finally we have the Rox, worth either one-hundred Trinx, ten Hex, or two Pix.¡± With that, a large golden coin is placed upon the table, its form similarly hexagonal. The intricate design emblazoned on its surface is rather striking, unlike the somewhat minimalistic design of the other three coins. It is by all means what one would consider when they think of a gold coin. Each coin appears to fit neatly inside one another with perfect mathematical precision, easily comparable to clockwork¡­ ¡°Anything above these is beyond what the average person can afford.¡± ¡°T-there is more¡­?¡± ¡°Well, yes¡­ There¡¯s Bronze Cogs, Steel Cogs, and Kirth Cogs, worth fifty, one-hundred, and one-thousand Rox respectively. I¡¯d say what makes them so valuable is the amount of Orbinium contained within them. Bronze Cogs have three percent, Steel Cogs six percent, and Kirth is an alloy of Orbinium which is made of about sixty percent Orbinium. Sadly, I¡¯ve never even seen a Kirth Cog.¡± That is a lot to process at once. While the chances of me handling such vast quantities of money are slim, it is better to have the gist of it just in case. As it stands, I do not see anything resembling a cog in this pouch. Also, what the hell is Orbinium? Thinking about it somehow reminds me of that black golem¡­ ¡°A common meal might cost anywhere between four to eight Trinx. That¡¯s as little as twelve Trinx a day. You can see why most people would have trouble finding a chance to use a Bronze Cog, which is equivalent to a whole five-thousand Trinx.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± In other words, I am willing to wager that this pouch must contain over twenty Rox worth at least; A whole two-thousand Trinx. If any idiot were to walk around carrying this thing on his person, it is inevitable that he would be mugged at the first available opportunity. Not to mention the fact that it weighs about as much as a three-year-old child. This will take some getting used to¡­ ¡°Er¡­ A-about this map¡­¡± Clearing away the coins, I unroll the parchment and display it on the table. A sizable map is carefully inked onto its surface. Large green land masses float upon a blue background, each with various symbols and lines marking borders, towns, and other such details. Everything drawn on the map is completely alien to me, driving home the fact that I now occupy foreign soil. (Well, not that I can do much about it¡­) With uncertainty lurking at the back of my mind, I listen to an uncomfortably cheery John yap about the map¡¯s contents. All of this while formulating a definitive strategy for the future. I will wring out all of the information I can get from this fool, then compile what I have learned. If I take my time, and figure this out, I should be able to avoid any more upsets. No more mid-bosses, cutscenes, quests, puzzles, or the like, just straight to the goal; The optimum battle strategy. Rescue the princess and get the hell out. Although¡­ I had better make plenty of contingency plans. It is unlikely this world will play nice¡­ Chapter V | Thread of Avarice, Severance of Debt Fort Wayfield rises early in the morning, hastily surging with life, as workers head off to their places of employment. Whether rich or poor, like greased cogs they spin and spin, to run the ugly machine that is the economy. Faulty cogs can always be replaced; Therefore, the drone of the workers turning is unending. In the commercial district, near to the heart of the town of Fort Wayfield, a sallow man enters through the front door of a clothier''s shop. Whilst sunlight streams inside, a melodic ring sounds from the bell above the door. As the man is dressed in casual attire, a simple white button shirt, grey wool trousers, and undone suspenders, the shop¡¯s resident clothier judges him rather harshly. Such a meager, sloppy man is unlikely to make a valuable customer; Or so he thinks. ¡°Welcome, Sir.¡± Though the middle-aged clothier calls out to his customer as a courtesy, the man simply ignores it and approaches the counter in silence. The man has various parchments tucked into several of his pockets and brings out a certain one as he reaches the counter. Laying it out flat, he points to it with a decided thrust of his finger. The clothier is taken aback at first but eventually settles into his spectacles, taking a look at what is scribbled upon the paper in front of him. His resignation soon becomes surprise, however, once he views the contents. ¡°This is¡­?!¡± The clothier¡¯s voice is intentionally hushed, yet his face does little to disguise his bewilderment. ¡°M-make this¡­¡± The man¡¯s demeanor is awkward and his line of sight never really meets with the clothier¡¯s; However, this man¡¯s aura is piercing. The eyes themselves are darkened to a frightening shade of black, darker even than the coal miner¡¯s when they return home from work. His stare holds an inexplicable murky depth to it, that invokes instinctive unrest upon you. All this, paired with the unsightly scars adorning his face, feels unsettling and makes the man¡¯s appearance asynchronous with his laid-back attire. Looking back at the parchment, an outfit is pictured there, as well as details such as materials and measurements. It is a fantastical garment that you would be hard of luck finding anything as imaginative, even amongst the trade goods brought from merchants of other races. Perhaps you could find something similar to this in the far east since not much is known about them. But those fellows prefer not to trade with the mainland merchants. They stay mostly to themselves, keeping their highly-guarded technology and culture from slipping through their defenses. What this type of thing is for could be anyone¡¯s guess, and since this man doesn¡¯t seem like one to enjoy such small talk, the clothier can only sigh inwardly. ¡°This type of thing¡­ I suppose I could pull it off; However, it won¡¯t be easy. As such¡­¡± The clothier scrutinizes the man with a skeptical glance. ¡°It¡¯s not going to be cheap, ya¡¯ hear?¡± ¡°¡­¡± The strange man¡¯s eyes narrow, and for a brief moment, a chill runs down the clothier¡¯s spine. After a long moment of strained silence, in which the man contemplates something inwardly, he finally answers the clothier with a hollow voice. ¡°I w-will pay now¡­ How much?¡± Reaching into one of his pockets, the man pulls out a thick, brown coin purse. With a crisp ring, he drops the heavy bag onto the counter. Even now, he still avoids eye-contact, just staring off to the side. The clothier had been waiting for this. By taking such a unique request, he¡¯s able to charge an exorbitant amount of coins from his client. Whether this man has such money or not is of little concern to him, since he can simply apply the remainder to his tab, leaving the fool with a hefty debt. Although it may seem harsh, this is not technically an illegal act. It is usually up to the craftsman to decide the jobs value, which can lead to this type of situation. This is just the way the world works. ¡°Thank you for your consideration.¡± The clothier stifles a smirk, as he reaches his hand out to pick up the coin purse. Anticipation builds within him, hastening his pace until he finally places his hand upon his prize. To his dismay, his hand turns up empty, as the purse suddenly disappears from his sight. A swift jerk pulls the confused clothier¡¯s outstretched arm behind his back, as an elbow is braced against his neck. The clothier¡¯s face then slams against the hard, wooden countertop. All of this is done before he can even react, and with vice-like grips, his mobility is completely stolen. Confusion, anger, and fear swim amongst the clothier¡¯s racing thoughts, as he struggles to break free from his prison to no avail. He had not even seen the man get behind him. It was simply too fast. Meanwhile, he feels a most sinister presence above his ear, and his eyes wince in sheer terror. ¡°I do not appreciate being lied to!¡± The deep, croaking voice comes from so close that it resonates inside his head. It overloads his senses with its gravity and causes his body to shiver. Holding back the urge to cry out, he opens his mouth to reply, shrewdly. ¡°I h-have no idea w-what you¡¯re talking about! I¡¯m s-simply collecting my fee! Ahaha¡­¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± Even under duress, he holds onto his unscrupulous demeanor. He is unwavering in his avarice. This is the standard he lives by, and it will be the reason for his downfall. The clothier¡¯s greed was his undoing... ------------ I feel refreshed¡­ Thanks in part to [Falling Owl] visiting for about twelve minutes last night. Not a large amount when compared to the full night I stayed at that family¡¯s house. It is something, however. Besides, I will take any relief that I can get from this madness that is constantly hounding me. Well... I say relief, but the world I see is still a picturesque display of utter chaos. The gruesome hallucinations still abound, and the Sun remains a black mass staring down at me mockingly. I believe it was blue to begin with, was it not? On the bright side, I have no more need for sunglasses. Truly, the only thing that matters is that my mind feels whole again. Ever since I was forced to use [Corruption], I had been suffering from the aftereffects of the toxins. Only now am I finally back to one-hundred percent. Even my migraine has calmed down a little. Since I ended up staying the night with that bothersome family, I squeezed as much information out of them as I could manage. Unfortunately, I discovered nothing about Gwyn¡¯s whereabouts, no matter how hard I tried. But that is fine, as I was half expecting as much. The amount of rubbish one man can spew when you are actually searching for something useful is uncanny. He went on and on about these beings called ¡°Gods¡±, like some sort of adoring fan. After the fifth anecdote, I started to tune him out. Luckily, he did mention some important things. First off, this world is called Gearia. It is a rather large planet with various civilized species intermingling upon its surface; Humans being just one of them. That said, there are many, many more races here than on Earth. Just to name a few heavy hitters, there are Elves, Dwarves, Fairies, Therianthropes, and the like. Well, it would not have felt like a fantasy world without at least that much. In actuality, however, there are more than twenty races that inhabit various locations in this messed up world. Seriously¡­ I have nothing to retort. This world is far beyond saving. There is a limit to what I can put up with¡­ Thankfully, there are fewer races intermingling than it sounds; Or rather, there are two main factions with one key dividing factor that separates them: The Code of Ethics. In plainer terms, it divides the ¡°good¡± from the ¡°evil¡±. And what do you know, this Code of Ethics just so happens to have been created by one of those diligent beings called Gods. An all-encompassing mandate that brings forth order and justice. It is the law itself, and all those who deny its iron hammer are to be shunned and cast away like the heathens they are. The eternal struggle between light and dark that frankly, I want no part of. Unless one of these factions becomes a hindrance in my plans, I could not possibly care less. Whilst explaining such matters, that simpleton also mentioned one more thing that set my teeth on edge. Apparently, due to that same God, the common consensus is that any people designated by them as a witch, are thought to be evil. These unlucky fellows must be punished, or in other words, hunted. Which means I am in a bad way if anyone realizes that I am potentially the most dangerous witch in all of existence. It almost makes me laugh... Of course, it is utter crap though. I mean, is it not always like that? Some group of people is hated for one reason or another, and then innocent bystanders are persecuted as a result. For a world that is so full of diversity, I find it quite absurd that they would choose something as foolish as witches to throw stones at. There are Vampires here, you know. The real blood-sucking deal. Well, at least witches are not the only thing being picked on. I just find it weird that they shun something so interesting. Then again, from what I have seen so far of magic maybe it is a good idea to weed it out before it becomes a catastrophic problem. Not that I would comply with such a thing. Just like I figured last night, the civilized races are governed not by a stuffy old church, nor even by a monarchy, but rather by a triumvirate of three integral guilds. Each managed by a resident deity, and together they make up the ever so aptly named Court of Guilds. What were those deities¡¯ names again¡­? Anyways, first, there is the Guild of Commerce, which sounds the most obvious. Just your typical merchant guild. I am unsure of most of the details since that fellow is a bit of a flake when it comes to that type of thing; However, from what I could glean, it is run similar to a corporation. The upper ranks are comprised of so-called influential individuals, across all races and fields of business. From agriculture to manufacturing, sales, and even the service industry, much of the decisions that go on in the business world go through them first. Next, is the previously mentioned Guild of Judgement, which is essentially the justice system of this world. It is supposedly led by an absurdly powerful fellow, I hear; Not to mention the Goddess backing them, apparently stronger by magnitudes. This troublesome Goddess just so happens to be the one responsible for composing the monstrosity that is the Code of Ethics. In other words, I need to stay the heck away from them. Since they are the ones who keep the peace, if I happen to cause any kind of uproar, they will come snooping around my business in droves. No thank you. The last one is the Guild of Wisdom, but I am not entirely sure about them. They seem to run schools and hospitals and such. That fellow¡¯s explanation was a little shaky on this matter too, thus I know barely anything about the specifics of how they operate. I am out of luck there. The ¡°wisdom¡± part sounds attractive to me right now, but it is a bit of a gambit. If I go to them for intelligence right now, I am likely to trigger any number of flags. Besides, it is not yet certain how ¡°wise¡± these fellows really are. There are too many variables that I have too little control over. In that type of situation, it is best not to mess with the hornet¡¯s nest. Wisdom, Judgement, and Commerce. Each of these has little to do with me, who has not only come to this world from another but also wields their hated magic. When the time comes that I must meet one of these forces, may they find benevolence in their heart and let me go. That is in their best interest. Best not to mess with the hornet¡¯s nest. That said, now that I know that any kind of outrageous act will lead those sticky insects onto my trail, I will have to employ many a failsafe in preparation. Starting with a proper disguise. Something chilling, that will bring fear unto anyone foolish enough to begrudge me. An easily memorable token of the devastation I have brought along with me to this world. I will don the garb of the [Black Corona], not in malice, but as a defense mechanism. Disguising myself in this grim attire will allow me to soak up any negative rumors that might spread, in the case that I should cause some kind of uproar. I will only wear this outfit when faced with an unfavorable, or unjust situation. Therefore, any evil that should come about will be blamed on said persona, rather than myself. Doing this correctly, should leave my actual appearance untainted by filthy rumors, and also obscure the scent trail from any unwanted pursuers. The thing is¡­ Coming up with the design is simple enough, but constructing it is something entirely different. I could do it if I put my mind to it; There is just no time for it. Which is why I should hire a clothier. Now that I have a destination, I leave the idiot family¡¯s estate. I leave early in the morning so as to avoid rush hour, severely underestimating the gusto of the working class. (What are these people, ants?) To my dismay, most of the population is awake and already heading to work before I finally decide to leave. An annoying ruckus abounds as I warily walk downtown. Just the fumes from the vehicles are giving me a terrible headache, let alone being surrounded by the unsightly masses. Ah, I pity human beings. They are so bound by greed it is sickening. I have come to another world, yet still have to wallow in this pathetic farce. Fly away, you peasants. Go inhabit a rock hurtling through space somewhere far, far away from me¡­ The sky is a pallid grey as if to represent the sickness that these humans have wrought upon it. The air is thin and filled with the result of all the coal being burnt. I need a breathing mask, or I am going to seriously throw up. Coming from my spotless room to this utter garbage heap is too much for my poor nose to bare. If I could, I would love to leave this disgusting place and escape to the forests once again. Unfortunately, I have things I must accomplish here that take priority. Thankfully I have arrived. A quaint little shop. With small windows, which I daresay has to do with the profession. Nonetheless, it is very decorative on the front facing the street. As I enter, I hear the familiar sound of a hanging bell, signaling when there is a customer. The whole thing reminds me of a convenience store, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Spotting the man behind the counter, I begin to approach him, completely ignoring his forced greeting. I have got to get through this without speaking too much, as painfully inept at conversing with living people as I am. His look momentarily turns sour, as he appraises my appearance, but I am not one to worry about what to wear. As such, I simply threw on whatever I could find in that fellow¡¯s closet before coming here. Using that ridiculous power really pulled a number on the clothes I came with after all. No doubt it would attract unwanted attention from the onlookers. Though the clothes are a bit uncomfortable, it is best to play it safe. ¡°{This meager fellow appears to have a problem with your appearance, Wade. Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± Ugh¡­ This clown again? You of all people have no right to comment on such a thing, you failure of a circus freak. Why does this thing appear right when I am in the middle of something? I am still not overly enthused about you leaving without fulfilling your end of the bargain, you know. (What do you want, clown? I am busy. Do not forget, you still owe me information about Gwyn.) With a bit of concentration, I can speak to this bastard without anyone noticing. It would be pretty awkward if not. My inner monologue acts as an intermediary between myself and any of these unsavory fellows that should show their face. They are a part of my imagination after all. Back to the point, I have drawn up some plans for the outfit I will be using for my alternate persona. I have taken homage from many sources, mainly part plague doctor, part raven, with a few enhancements here and there. It is so chuuni I fear my eyes will shrivel-up any second now, but I need an impactful design in order to blot out any non-evil impressions people might get from it. When I place the diagram of the outfit I sketched up last night onto the counter, the tailor appears surprised, confused, and intrigued, all at once. I had thought maybe that this sort of thing might not be that odd since this is a fantasy world and all; Apparently not. At least now I know it will make enough of an impact. ¡°M-make this¡­¡± I have no time for loitering around here, so I just come right out with it. Somehow, this tailor is making me uneasy; Or rather, his eyes seem clouded with impurity. I thought that the people of this world, bridled with their heavy, ethical laws, would know better than to entertain such dangerous desires. Perhaps, I have once again underestimated this world. ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ This poor tailor¡¯s soul has become a rotten cesspool of greed and envy. His eyes see only money, and his heart beats only to fulfill his desires. How¡­ Utterly divine!}¡± I know it is not much different from what I was thinking, but it still makes me sick that I actually think the same way as this bastard¡­ Save the last bit. (¡°Are you even planning on giving me the answers I seek? If not, then do you not have some children¡¯s candy to steal, or dead person¡¯s grave to tread upon?¡±) ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ You underestimate me, Wade.}¡± Yeah, would not be the first time today. ¡°{This plan you have, Wade. A diversion shall we call it? Do you really think it is necessary to prepare all this nonsense? Hiding your darkness behind a mask makes you not much different than myself, you see.}¡± (¡°Darkness? You are wrong. This is all just smoke and mirrors. I have no need to use that power, as long as I take the proper precautions. This ¡°nonsense¡± is far more useful than that broken power could ever be anyways.¡±) ¡°{Oh, Wade, Wade, Wade¡­ When will you learn that the people from this delightful world, will not so easily fit into your little plans? You may even find, that what you and I desire, end up being one and the same. Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± (¡°Again with the cryptic smokescreen. Tell me something useful for once, or just get out of here. It seems this clothier follows a different kind of ethics than everyone else here, and quite frankly, you are distracting me.¡±) I will give the tailor the benefit of the doubt, but if he still aims to satisfy his own depraved desires, I am going to have to protect my own interests. People like him tend to lie whenever it suits them. His lies will not work on me though; A face is like an open book. A feint, and like thunder I have dropped this greedy miser against the counter, in a painful arm lock. In this situation, he is as good as finished if I feel like it, so let us hope his heart is not as I suspect¡­ ¡°I do not appreciate being lied to!¡± Confess your sins you disgusting, skin-covered, bag of human waste, and we can all get along fine. If you should choose otherwise, however, I am no longer in the leisure to let you go unpunished. I have other matters to attend to and you are fucking up my schedule. ¡°I h-have no idea w-what you¡¯re talking about! I¡¯m s-simply collecting my fee! Ahaha¡­¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± Wrong answer. I was looking for more along the lines of ¡°I am a scumbag, and I wanted to extort you.¡±. But if this is the way you want to play it, then I have no choice but to use a bit more of a direct approach. I simply cannot put my trust in garbage like this¡­ ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ The heart of man is truly a paradise for the disturbed.}¡± (¡°You still here?¡±) ¡°{How rude. You said it yourself, did you not, that I have debts to be paid? I¡¯m not a monster, you see.}¡± Uh huh¡­ Well, at least I will be getting whatever info he has on Gwyn. For now, though, I have to introduce this other imbecile to a more cooperative state of mind. Can I do it¡­? I feel like it is worth a shot. Only one way to find out¡­ Whilst keeping a firm grip upon the clothier, I reposition him so that his back is pressed against the counter. To an onlooker, the scene becomes a rather dicey one, that could easily be interpreted a certain way. Though this is not my intention, merely a necessary evil to accomplish what I am about to do. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°Look at me!¡± The clothier¡¯s eyes are aimed elsewhere, desperately trying to avoid my own. This is troubling... ¡°Look, lest I cause you agony beyond your imagination!¡± Hearing this, the clothier¡¯s shivering form reluctantly fixes its gaze onto mine. Reflected in his vision is a being no longer human in appearance. Pulsating, discolored veins stretch outwards from my temples, crawling towards my eye-sockets like a sickening web. A darkened stain begins to soak into the whites of my eyes, dying everything a terrible shade of black. The breath catches in the clothier¡¯s throat, and the hair on his neck becomes erect. Fear clutches his heart in its icy grip, making his blood pump furiously throughout his body. The clothier does not fully understand what is going on, only staring into the endless pools of darkness in horror. Slowly, a shadowy cluster of black particles begins to seep from their depths, forming a dark mist that reaches towards the clothier in malice. Unable to look away, the clothier¡¯s body is paralyzed from the inexplicable phenomenon taking place before him. Before long, the mist reaches its final destination, the terrified eyes of the clothier. Filled with the mass of black particles, the clothier¡¯s eyes also dye a shade of pitch black. Having accepted the strange substance into his being, the clothier¡¯s body becomes limp and collapses. Because of this, I haul him up onto the counter, somewhat unceremoniously. There is just barely enough room, though it is a bit cramped. This turned out rather well¡­ ¡°{You¡¯ve come this far, Wade, I¡¯m impressed. You seem to have handled that rather well. Perhaps I should rethink some of my earlier statements. After all, if you could simply hypnotize everyone this easily, there would be no worry about your identity being discovered. Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± ¡®Tch¡¯ (¡°Do not patronize me, clown. I have no interest in causing such calamity. This was only a last resort. Strategy and forethought are the foundation that will bring my plans to fruition, not your kind of caustic belligerence.¡±) ¡°{Ever the same, Wade. You know that someday, this facade you hold onto will crumble and fall, just like it did in the past. At that time, which path do you suppose you¡¯ll choose to follow? Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ Soon, Wade. We¡¯ll see¡­}¡± (¡°Silence, clown. I refuse to fall into corruption. I need only to look forward, towards the day I am able to repay my debts to her. You would do well to realize my motivation by now. I will not falter¡­ Even in the face of this wretched power.¡±) ¡°I am not so easily taken¡­¡± ¡°{Is that so¡­? I suppose I¡¯ll take your word, for now. In the meantime, it appears I have my own debts to pay. Listen well, Wade. This world may seem like a peaceful one, at least on the surface; But in the shadows, the story is one of sins most foul. In my opinion, this world could use far more candor with their desires. Wouldn¡¯t you say? By the way, did you know that there is a witch in this town¡­? Though that may not interest you, Wade, I¡¯m sure those rigid fellows in the Guild of Judgement might have something to say about it. Perhaps it¡¯s high time you stopped wallowing in your anonymity. This is all I can give you, for now. Anything else would simply be worthless at this point in time, you see. There will come a point when I will return, so do become more interesting before then, Wade. Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± With that, the clown begins to dematerialize into grey smoke. ¡°{Good luck, Wade. You¡¯ll certainly need it¡­}¡± I heard that, you bastard. ¡°Like I want your luck anyways...¡± Just leave already. I need to finish prepping this greedy pig, so your distractions are annoying. What the hell good is it going to do me, knowing that there is a witch in this town? Why would I get involved with such a corrosive existence? Why is everyone around me so damn useless? ¡®Sigh¡¯ (Guess I should finish what I started¡­) This unfortunate fellow is currently in a hypnotic state. Honestly, I am not quite clear on the specifics, but it felt feasible at that moment in time. Thus, this is the result. [Corruption] sure is a handy skill¡­ Too bad the side-effects are so absurd. Anyways, let me try giving this pig a command... ¡°You will make what is displayed on this diagram, to the best of your ability. If there are any parts you are unsure about, improvise it; However, do not stray from the general theme. You will also feel a renewed vigor, as you strive to finish your business each day. All in order to get back to work on the task I have given you. Until you are done, it will take precedence in any decisions. Understand, this job is to be done entirely in secret. No one must find out you are doing this, so store it in a safe place where no one could ever find it. At no point during this process will you remember what you have done. You will simply go about the task whenever you can, not realizing you are even doing it. Once you are done, and I come to pick it up, you will deliver it to me, and forget any of this has ever happened. If you understand all of this then nod your head.¡± ¡®Nod¡¯ ¡°Good. Now, I am going to leave. When I do, you will slowly wake up, not remembering anything said or done here. However, you will still complete everything that I have told you to do unconsciously, without realizing it.¡± That should be enough¡­ Thus, I leave the shop from whence I came. ¡°¡­ Hmm? Hmmmmmm¡­ Huh? What was I doing again¡­?¡± ------------ Well then, now that I have taken care of that, I can finally move on to other matters. I need to procure myself enough rations for a long trip, as well as a means of transport. The food should be something that does not spoil easily since I will be on the road for quite a while. This town is too small, so the chances of finding information about Gwyn is unlikely. Therefore, I must travel to a more viable location. I was hoping I could cut out all the boring stuff and head straight to this country¡¯s capital, Engelred, but that is not going to happen. In order to reach Engelred, I would have to travel across the whole entirety of this country of Grimm, sailing over the ocean in the process. It is simply too far away. In that case, I would be spending so much time traveling that it would be better to just find some information from a semi-large city nearby. I ruminated as to which destination would be the best bet, but with only the little bit of knowledge I could extract from that family, I am left with immense uncertainties. Nevertheless, I have narrowed down the candidates to two prominent cities, each located within a reasonable distance of Fort Wayfield. The first is a large port city, nestled along the northern edge of the country of Grimm, called Blackbird Harbor. One of the main hubs of the Guild of Commerce, it handles most of the goods traveling up and down the northern coast. The amount of rumors available in such a bustling trade city is appealing in itself. Unfortunately, with the vast amount of business that goes on there, the eyes of the Guild of Judgement will be sharper all the more. Besides, I have had enough water for one lifetime. Heading further inland in the opposite direction is a smaller city by the name of Graves. This city, although given such a mournful name, is host to the largest most prestigious university in the nearby vicinity. As the university is run by the Guild of Wisdom, there will hopefully be a chance to catch a trickle of information about Gwyn. Leaving interactions with the guilds aside, any town where people gather is a good start. Most likely, I will be choosing Graves, since it is closer. Traveling up to the northern coast puts me in an awkward position, considering what is to come. I have to continue moving from place to place if I am to have any hope of finding something useful, so retreating further away from the heart of the country is just counterintuitive. Alright, I am convinced. I will go to Graves. Then, if I have trouble finding anything, I will continue moving towards the west. Eventually, I should find something, according to my knowledge of similar situations in manga and light novels. Therefore, it is best to be efficient about it. Who knows, maybe she is not even in this country. If such a thing turns out to be true, I will be very displeased, what with my having been summoned in this backwoods town. Perhaps they were going for this at the start? Something is nagging me like I am forgetting something. Suit, food, travel¡­ Urgh¡­ I cannot place it. Must not have been important. No matter, I will think of it later. For now, I have an appointment with a grocer. Just as I am about to pull open the bulky door of the shop entitled ¡°Arlen¡¯s Goods¡±, I am obstructed by another customer leaving at the same time. The plain-looking man gives me a casual greeting. I ignore such farce. I am quite behind on my schedule as it is. This store, according to my sources, has particularly appealing prices. For this reason, I will make sure to buy the bulk of my provisions here. I have no means of carrying them though. At least, not yet. That is next on the list. Everything would be so much easier if only I had some type of inventory magic, like those lucky bastards in light novels. I think I could probably work something out with [Corruption], though I shall refrain from such imprudence. Just thinking about touching that power gives me a headache. Once is enough. The inside of the shop is quaint, I suppose. But there are far more people in here than I had been expecting. Is it not a little early to go shopping? The people in this world are constantly pressing my buttons. The place looks like a candy shop, walls lined with wooden shelves of various goods and types of equipment. It is lit by ancient looking light-bulbs, which cast a calming glow over the rows of produce and canned goods. It is surreal to see such a sight in a fantasy world. Just roll with it. Behind a counter in the corner of the room are two busy-looking young men in aprons flitting to and fro checking stock. Apart from them, is an older, rounder man that cashiers the purchases. I assume the older one is ¡°Arlen¡±. This guy is off¡­ He seems normal enough at first glance, just an overly-friendly, hefty grocer. But his face¡­ He has a caterpillar mustache, as big as a hand. Why would you need a mustache so big? It is comically large and makes his head look tiny in comparison. Oh well, to each their own¡­ ¡°Welcome Sir, haven¡¯t seen you before. What can I do for you today?¡± Nope. I cannot take this guy seriously. Too much¡­ ¡°I n-need provisions¡­ F-for traveling¡­¡± ¡°I see! Canned goods and the like, is it?¡± Redundant question¡­ Not answering it. The fact that they have such affordable canned goods is rather surprising to me. This world is far more technologically advanced than I gave them credit for. ¡°Do you have any particular preference, or would you like me to find something?¡± ¡°I w-will do it¡­¡± ¡°Of course, Sir. Just take anything you¡¯d like up to the counter. I¡¯ll weigh and bag any perishables, and ring everything up on the till. Will you need them delivered Sir?¡± Ooh, fancy. Delivery is nice, but I do not have a permanent residence. I would also like to avoid any of the complications were I to send them to that family, so I think I will pass. ¡°I will bring a v-vehicle later¡­ So¡­¡± ¡°We can keep your purchase on hold until then, have no fear. You just drop by when you¡¯re ready and I¡¯ll have my boys here load it onto your vehicle for you.¡± Good. I am lucky Moustache is so good at his job, or this would have been far more painful. Even now I am sweating profusely. I need to get out of this group of people soon, or I am going to pass out. Most of the ladies around me are chatting it up, but some of them are looking my way. Not sure why they find me interesting¡­ Maybe a man shopping is rare or something. You would think that such a diverse world would be over the whole housewife phase. Or maybe I look poorly dressed or something? Honestly, I do not care, just stop staring at me. Searching through the goods, I happen upon another problem¡­ Despite the letters being identical to my previous language, the names are utterly nonsensical. For instance, what is a gidbloo? I totally neglected to ask about things like this when I was grilling that fool for info. Did I perhaps think I could wing it, or something? I am definitely not off to a good start. ¡®Sigh¡¯ Yeah... I will just have to pick some delicious sounding things and hope for the best. Luckily their labels have pictures, so there is at least something to go by. This ¡°Chickee¡± obviously sounds like a chicken, so I will take that. ¡°Arful¡± sounds like something a dog would say, so pass. ¡°Ragon¡± sounds like Dragon, so hell yes. ¡°Gruntt¡± sounds like it would be porcine, so it should be okay. ¡°Hider¡±? Umm¡­ An insect maybe? Can you even eat it? Though it is pretty cheap at two Trinx, compared to gruntt¡¯s five Trinx. Still, I do not want to be sick again, so pass. Kyd is also cheap, at three Trinx, and although the name is unsettling, the picture is clearly a fish. I should probably stock up on it. It is great having previous knowledge of what the fish in this world taste like, but I am not too keen on eating just fish like before. Apart from meat, I take some bleddel soup, morkin stew, as well as a variety of other cans of oddly named vegetables. I am interested in trying all these mysterious foods, like some kind of cooking manga. Whoa, I almost lost myself there. I still have a lot of things to do today so I should make sure not to mess around. Since I have brought my purchases to the counter, I will let Moustache handle it while I head to my next location. (Next is¡­) In order to buy a steam-powered vehicle in this backward town, I need to acquire a license from the Court of Guilds. Unfortunately, I am not a real person in this world, so I will have to stick with a coach. While they are less expensive, they have many a drawback, one of which is having to take care of the horse. I have no idea how to properly take care of a horse. Though it might not end up being a problem. There are multiple ways to get around it, and if worse comes to worst, I will just work it out somehow. Guts! Now that I think about it, why are all the other animals such random things while the horses are still plain old horses? Pick one theme, world. Why are you so half-assed about everything? Even I am putting in some effort here, so you should give me something interesting, like a Chocobo or something. ¡®Sigh¡¯ You know, I try not to think too much about it, but I really need to do something about this madness polluting my surroundings. Everything is so vile and grim, as hoards of specters roam amongst the poor citizens who are none the wiser. Maybe I should become one of those chuuni characters that wear a blindfold so as to keep the evil at bay. I could probably manage to find my way around. Blind people do it. Seems like a hassle though, and the extra attention I would draw is a definite negative. I must not do anything that will make me stand out. At least until I properly establish my scapegoat. Even then, I am not going to go chasing people waving sticks; It is simply a last resort, for when I have totally screwed up. I wonder what I should name it? Back to the task at hand, I need both a horse and a coach. The coach is the easier of the two since you can conveniently buy it from a workshop, but the horse is different. Having walked across town, I make my way to a stable nestled against one of Fort Wayfield¡¯s outer walls. I have been told that this is the best place to procure myself a horse, and as such, I am currently being shown an array of specimens by a caretaker. I have always wondered why people become so emphatic about the supposed joys of owning a horse. Though I am sure there are plenty of things that would merit such a response, for someone like me, a horse is only a negative existence. The crooked man before me is most likely one of those. An out-and-out equiphile, spending each day grooming his horses, like some kind of sick obsession. While I shall not unduly judge you, Sir, just know that I am not among those who share your passions. It is filthy here, and I am sickened more and more by the utterly malodorous state of this place. I miss Duchess, Beautiful, and my serene crawlspace under the stairs. So far, I only regret coming to this world. The horses dwell in stalls that line the inside of a rather nondescript stable. Each with their own amenities, of course. I find it unpleasant that, as the record stands, these horses are better off than I am. I almost feel sorry for the poor horse that gets torn from their current comfortable domain, just to become a vagrant¡¯s steed. While being flooded with useless, biased information by the breeder, I am taking my time and inspecting the overall condition of each horse. I will ignore most of what he says, as I do not trust this man in the slightest. After the first two descriptions, I suspect he would make a far better fiction writer than a salesman. So, what makes a good horse? Personally, I would prefer a horse that will not physically harm me. Smart, calm, friendly, all the things that make for less work on my part. Just because I am going out of my way to take care of this beast, does not mean I want extra work saddled upon me. Most of these horses look a little rough, with a few exceptions. Only three stand out from the rest. The first two are clearly the most well-bred of the bunch, even though this salesman would try to convince me otherwise. It is obvious that he is trying to sell me rags for riches. Too bad I have mostly been ignoring him this whole time. The third horse is different in a whole other way. Reject material. Its harsh, abrasive attitude, and unkempt, appearance scream at me, and not in a good way. Who in their right mind would ever purchase this creature, which looks as if it would murder you the moment your back is turned? ¡°{S4Ys tH3 mURd3rER!1!}¡± ¡®Guhuh!!¡¯ ¡­I guess I deserved that. (¡°Even so, I cannot buy this horse. I mean, just look at it, this thing is clearly possessed. That is foam by its mouth, you know!¡±) Concentrating on my inner monologue, I desperately plead my case. However, the empty-eyed ghost of a girl appears to not be listening. She simply sits there atop the fence that separates me from the faulty object in question, staring blankly, like usual, at the rowdy, black mare. (¡°Black, huh¡­?¡±) ¡®Sigh¡¯ Do not get me wrong¡­ It is not like I changed my mind because she told me to¡­ Just that, upon looking beyond minor character flaws, I feel a deep sort of connection with this particular horse¡­ Or something¡­ (¡°You better thank me for this¡­¡±) I can never go against her when she makes a sullen face like that. No really, I absolutely cannot. She is very strong in comparison to her size, so I stand no chance in hell. She is clearly an S¡­ ¡°{¡­}¡± ¡®Tch¡¯ (¡°Fine, fine. Ishall get it, okay? Are you happy now?¡±) Flipping backward off the fence, she turns her head to the side and crosses her arms while pouting. I suppose just buying a horse is not enough to appease this spoiled princess. Or maybe she is just shy¡­ I think I will go with that¡­ Chapter VI | Child of Misfortune, Hag of Devilry After jumping through all the hoops necessary to purchase my very own horse, I am then endlessly bombarded about how to drive a carriage. Most of the information is cataloged in the back of my mind, while anything I feel unsure of can be picked up through diligent practice later. I pretty much get the gist of it though. I am a quick learner. I chose the black mare in the end since I would rather not upset the balance. The horse salesman seemed quite ecstatic about my selection. However, much to his chagrin, I managed to haggle the price down from the asking price of thirty Rox to only ten Rox, additional bits-and-bobs included. This brings the price of my stagecoach to a grand total of eighty Rox. From my calculations, this is at least a thirty percent profit, apart from the fact that the horse is a dud. Just how much of a pain is the horse, you ask? Well¡­ Imagine a five or six-hundred-pound toddler, with the attitude of a spoiled teenager, and the strength of a dozen-or-so full-grown-men. This is what I am dealing with; A monster, plain and simple. Just walking down the street is causing me deep psychological trauma. It is kind of obvious but, I am not a person who would make a good caregiver. In fact, being in my care would most certainly have detrimental consequences. I can barely keep myself under control, let alone take care of someone else. Having to drag this stubborn horse down the street, kicking and flailing, is utterly torturous. It clearly has a grudge against humanity, since it snorts at anybody who walks by. Thankfully it has yet to do anyone physical harm, but from the way things are going¡­ I make no guarantees. Spite, bitterness, pride, and resentment; I can sense all of these twisting emotions from this child. Just what happened to her that would cause her to act this way? Unfortunately, I have neither time, nor patience to put up with this. I really should hammer this nail, before it becomes any more of a burden. It is just a matter of breaking in the reins, nothing complicated. But first... ¡°Hmmm¡­ Though you are turning out to be quite a nuisance, I should give you a proper name nonetheless.¡± Technically, this child already has a name, but I would prefer to name it myself. It is one of the few hobbies I have, so indulge me on this. ¡°You do not strike me as a Bree anyways.¡± A strong, prideful horse¡­ It reminds me of unpleasant things¡­ ¡°Let us not dwell on the past anymore. We have things we must accomplish, and you are going to help me do it. For the sake of progress, I am going to name you Tomorrow. What do you think?¡± She only gives a quick peek at me, before she turns her head away, spitefully snorting in protest. Hmph¡­ Too bad for you, horse, I am sticking with that name. I only asked out of courtesy. ¡°Good, now that you have a name, there is a great task before us. You could call it an adventure, or a wild goose chase, but all the same, it is something I must do.¡± I am being ignored, but I wonder why I feel like this child is understanding me somehow. I will just continue¡­ ¡°Yes¡­ There is a long road ahead, and regrettably, it is likely filled with strife and peril. Although I would like to avoid such situations, I am in need of information, and the surest place to acquire it is right from the enemy¡¯s doorstep.¡± Graves, while being an excellent place to find some leads, is obviously under the control of the Guild of Wisdom. What that means for me is anyone¡¯s guess, but it is the best plan of action I currently have, so that is where we are headed. No matter how stealthily I travel, if I receive no information on Gwyn¡¯s whereabouts, I am simply wasting time and energy. ¡°I am looking for an important person to me. Do you understand? I cannot afford to mess this up. Well, maybe you do not understand what I am saying. But know this, I need your help, whether you like it or not.¡± It has almost been two weeks since I crossed over into this world, and only today do I even have anything to show for it. It feels like the last week or so was all a transitional phase, and now the jetlag is finally wearing off. What have I been doing all this time? ¡®Sigh¡¯ As I look down at my left wrist, I shake away the sleeve of my white button-up shirt, to reveal a clunky, brass-colored watch. Like most other devices in this world, it features visible clockwork gears. I commandeered this beauty from the man I crossed paths with as I entered the grocer earlier. The man himself was a boring thing, and I have no memory of his appearance. That said, the watch I glimpsed on his wrist as he opened the door was something I could not help but notice. Of course, I have no eye for the brands of this world, or even Earth¡¯s, for that matter. I really cannot care less about such things, to begin with. I simply liked the design and was sorely in need of it. There being no room in my budget for something like this, I decided then and there that I would pilfer it. Is it wrong to steal? That is a pointless question. I will not say that what I did was justifiable, nor am I going to say that I needed it more than he did at the time. I stole it, plain and simple. Whether it was right or wrong does not interest me in the slightest. Putting that aside, time in this world is much the same as back on Earth. Twenty-four hours in a day, sixty minutes in an hour, and sixty seconds in a minute. I was mostly certain of this fact even before receiving this watch, going by the sun and my inner clock. Having physical evidence of it is still reassuring though. ¡°5:00 PM?! How the hell did it get so late?¡± Just walking across town and back to get this horse sucked up most of my day. I may have taken care of transportation, but I still have to pick up my provisions, a few other things, and also practice driving this thing. While it is true that I do not sleep, and thus could keep going even during the night, Tomorrow will need to sleep eventually. I will have to do something about that. Like I thought, horses are bothersome. ¡°Guess I should start with the food¡­¡± With just these words, Tomorrow¡¯s ears perk up. I see¡­ Before the stick comes the carrot. ¡°I have food prepared at the grocer¡¯s, you know. What do you say about cooperating with me till we get there?¡± I am not technically lying; I could simply add a few more horse related things when I get there. Although I already bought a bag of grain for her from that equiphile, I guess this child forgot all about it. How about we use this momentum and see where we go from there. Picking up the reins, I give her a gentle flick. With that, I easily guide her out of the workshop¡¯s lot. It seems that bribery works just fine, as she follows my lead and pulls the moderately-sized stagecoach without any trouble. It is impressive that a single horse can so effortlessly pull such a heavy object. I mean, when I was trying to hook her up to it, I attempted to maneuver it a little myself, but it was seriously heavy. It is wrought with iron and heavy timber, and weighs at least a half-ton, by my estimate. The cabin has enough room for about four passengers, or more along the lines of what I was going for, a large load of provisions. While it may seem harsh, I do not plan on picking up any passengers. The more that people hover around me, the less I can do, so hitchhikers are a definite no. If I see that kind of flag, I will break it; I am not a good person. Even though I myself caught a ride not that long ago, I cannot make any exceptions. Who knows what trouble it will bring. When I calculate all the possibilities¡­ It is far too risky. After unsteadily making my way back to the grocer, I watch over the young men as they literally throw my food into the cabin. Then I pick up an extra bag of yellow, carrot-looking things called ¡°bleddels¡± as a treat for Tomorrow. Honestly, I have no idea what they are. I just hope they are something like parsnips. Horses can eat parsnips, right? ¡°Do you want one?¡± I grab a bleddel out of the bag and hold it out to Tomorrow, who greedily rips it from my hand. I guess that answers that. Well, at least it was worth the extra money. Leaving the grocer, I head to a metalsmith and buy myself some utensils, plus a handy looking hunting knife. It comes with a holster; One of the ones you would wrap around your waist. Having on such a clunky thing felt unpleasant though, so I wrapped it around my right leg instead. That way I can hide it beneath my pants. Packing the utensils I have purchased into the cabin, I hop onto the driver¡¯s seat and attempt to urge Tomorrow into action, only receiving a snort in response. ¡°¡­¡± I gave her that treat only a short while ago, right? Why is she ignoring me already? Honestly, this stubborn horse. ¡®Tch¡¯ It appears the time has come that she be made well aware that I will not tolerate disobedience. I tried to play it nice, all for naught. Perhaps I should feel sorry for doing this; But, I believe this to be the most efficient way of going about this problem. She is a sturdy horse, so she should be fine¡­ ------------ We are finally on the road, heading south from Fort Wayfield. I am going to practice my driving skills, as well as my riding skills. You never know what could happen on the road. When it comes to close-combat, I am sufficiently confident. Besides that, I have the ability to regenerate. However, if an aggressor were to have a pistol or some other high-speed projectile, I would be unable to defend myself. Such things are unlikely to kill me though. Still, I refuse to let my chance of a successful outcome drop below eighty-five percent, at least if I can help it. In which case, I must secure the possibility of escaping on horseback. A similar strategy to that of a starfish, leaving limbs behind to live another day. Except in this case, ¡°a limb¡± is more like most of my worldly possessions. It cannot be helped, life is an unforgiving wasteland, and I will just have to bite the bullet if and when the time comes. ¡°It will soon be dark, so we should get started.¡± Ever since I let Tomorrow know that I am a very serious person, she has become far more agreeable. Unfortunately, as a side-effect, I am once again affected by what I will call [Cooling Down]. Upon further testing, I have discovered I can somehow regenerate from almost any wound. Repairing bones is an unpleasant ordeal, depending on how much damage there is, but tissue damage literally heals within seconds¡­ It is quite unsettling, to be honest. Because of this, I am potentially able to utilize minute amounts of the [Black Corona] in small enough bursts to not cause me permanent harm. The problem is, tapping into that vile power has significant drawbacks. Apart from dampening my functionality overall, I am also stuck with weird side-effects. Overall intensification of the specters that haunt me and warping of people¡¯s appearances are two of the most notable. From the small amount of testing I have done so far, it can also cause nausea, confusion, and even temporary blindness. No matter how I think about it, I just cannot feasibly use this power, except as a very, very last resort. Even then, I should not use it in any type of battle situations. On the off chance it fails to finish them off, I would be left with considerable handicaps. In the end, it is better to avoid confrontations altogether. As long as I am constantly calculating preemptively, I should be able to avoid anything unnecessary. In Tomorrow¡¯s case, I only needed the tiniest fragment of power. Horses spook easily, you know. I am thankful there was no need for anything too tedious to scare her straight. Nonetheless, I still feel like crap. I did use [Corruption] after all. Now I am stuck with a beastly migraine, though not so much that I am unable to practice my driving skills. Eventually, it should wear off though. Over the course of a few hours, my mind should stabilize once again. This is exactly why I dubbed it [Cooling Down]. I am starting to become more and more like an RPG character. Best not to pay any attention to such things. The whole horse driving thing is rather simple when you get down to it. Use the right rein for right, the left rein for left, pulling harder for sharper turns. It really feels quite natural. Perhaps this horse is smarter than I give her credit for? On the empty side road acting as my sandbox, I have traveled up and down the stretch, over and over. Only switching up my speed as time passes. I cannot see me needing much more practice than this. It is about time we head back to town. (I guess horseback riding will have to wait for Tomorrow. Heh¡­) I should check on that crook clothier to see how far he has come. He is unlikely to have finished, but I want to make sure nothing is out of the ordinary. ------------ In the end, I decided to park my stagecoach near the edge of the forest outside of town. The clothier seemed to be working at a steady pace, so I left him to his task. Under the cloak of night, I should be undisturbed, so I can continue my experimentation while Tomorrow gets some sleep. I am dubious as to how much sleep she will get if she just stands there awkwardly though. I once read that horses can sleep standing up. But this looks more like she is keeping her guard up against something. Maybe I was a little too thorough in my discipline. What can I say¡­ Unlike her, I will be using my time wisely. No matter what I try, eventually there will come a point when I have to fight. Whether I plan ahead or not, it would be naive to think that such an occasion can be avoided entirely. Especially with the introduction of a force like the Court of Guilds. It is inevitable that those fellows will come snooping around. The longer I stay in this world, the higher the chances become. In that case, I should prepare for any situations that may occur. One of which is a direct confrontation. This is why I need to hone my martial prowess. I cannot rely on such a volatile power as the [Black Corona]. If I constantly drop bombs to deal with any ants that should provoke me, the world will be unable to keep up, nor will my mind. Focusing on my breathing, I take a stance in front of a sturdy looking tree at the edge of the forest. I have decided to stray a safe distance from my newly purchased stagecoach since I would rather not disturb Tomorrow¡¯s well-deserved rest. ¡°I guess this will work fine.¡± Thinking about all of my predecessors before me, as I turned my gears all these long nights, I have become aware of a few things of note. I suspect these things are possibly the most important factors standing in my way as of yet. One is endurance. This is the most important aspect which will be the deciding factor in how I am to interpret my own abilities. No matter how durable I am, as soon as I run out of stamina, I can easily be incapacitated. In order to avoid capture, I must be able to escape. To outrun any pursuer, I will need a large amount of endurance. The second is agility. Even if I can run forever, if I am slow then I will still be caught. Not only that, an agile opponent is much harder to deal with in a brawl than one who is not. Speed will determine whether I can reach their weak spots, and dexterity will determine whether I can dodge an incoming attack. Both of these are what makes agility so important. To train endurance, I could run since it will also increase my agility in a way. However, what I am looking for is more along the lines of maneuverability in a battle-oriented sense. To accomplish this I will need both lower and upper body strength. Running does not fulfill both these needs perfectly. Luckily, I have I idea... ¡°Now then...¡± With a firm leap, I grasp onto the trunk of the tree in front of me. It is a pretty wide tree, so it takes both leg strength, and arm strength to stay attached. Using a shimmying motion, I carefully begin to make my way up to the top. (This is way harder than I thought it would be. I am so unfit¡­) Obviously¡­ When I was back on Earth, I barely left the house. There is little wonder as to how I ended up this bad. My goal of being able to defend myself is looking further and further away. No, I must trim any useless thoughts. I can just work on it now. If I spend all of my nights like this, I can substantially increase my overall fitness in a very short amount of time. I have nothing better to do anyway¡­ ------------ I have wandered quite a ways from my stagecoach, heading further and further into the woods in search of wildlife that I might be able to use as test subjects. Since it is pitch black in the woods, I have detached one of the lanterns from the front of the stagecoach to light my path. The purpose of the test is to measure my relative strength in comparison to the fauna of this world, but it is also partially out of boredom. Having practiced climbing trees for a few hours, I somehow perfected it. Apparently, my pills were also dampening my ability to learn. I had not noticed this until today. It only took me about twenty minutes to get the knack of it. All the while, it kept getting easier and easier. The rest of the time was spent ingraining the motions into my muscle memory. After some devout meditation, I decided to go hunting in the forest for the rest of the night. I did not want to leave my stagecoach, but there was no way to bring it with me, so it had to stay behind. I doubt it will be robbed in this darkness. It is just food anyways. Thus, I began scouring the woods for test subjects, to no avail. Despite the sound of nightlife all around me, the animals must have either heard me coming or spotted the light from the lantern. (Oh well¡­ Other than the depressing turnout, the walk was refreshing.) It is then that I catch sight of the dimly glowing light in the distance. My first thought is that it could be another person, so I quickly extinguish my lantern. Upon further inspection, however, I realize that the unwavering light comes from the window of a little cabin. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡®Tch¡¯ ¡°Just my luck¡­¡± This seemingly quaint little building, surrounded by kilometers of forest, may not appear menacing, but I smell danger; It is far too suspicious. Why would they need to live out here in the woods, instead of inside the walls of Fort Wayfield where it is much safer. ¡°Suspicious¡­¡± Did I somehow trigger a flag without noticing? I was being so careful too¡­ ¡®Sigh¡¯ ¡°For now¡­ Escape!¡± I made sure to memorize the path I took to get here. Besides, I have been cutting arrows into the trees along the way, so I can just follow the trail of damage. Spinning on my heels, I am about to relight my lantern and make a mad dash back to my camp when I feel a small tug on one of my belt loops that makes me freeze momentarily. It is one of those tugs that a poor homeless child would use as an attempt to reel in a passing meal ticket. I am sorry troubled youth, but empathy is not my strong suit. If I stay in this poison environment even one second longer, I do not even want to imagine what kind of trouble will attach itself to me¡­ No offense. Leaving behind my prayers without even turning around, I continue making my escape, only to be yanked backward by an unnaturally strong force. Flung like a ragdoll, I land on my back, cracking my skull quite brutally against a sharp rock. My consciousness is swimming, my vision blurry, and my ears ring like sirens, as I lay paralyzed in the dirt. Gazing up through my concussive daze, I vaguely manage to make out a glimpse of a certain empty-eyed girl standing over me. Even with her vacant expression, I can tell she is not particularly enthused. With her arms crossed in front of her, and her brows ever-so-slightly furrowed; Classic identifiers of an upset princess. After leering at me for a few seconds, she finally turns her head to the side in spite. ¡°{¡­}¡± She must be shy¡­ I am going with that¡­ Damn, she really did me over here. I cannot repair this damage so easily. But I guess she took that into account, did she not? My consciousness is fading into darkness. ¡°¡­ I was right, after all¡­¡± The last thing I remember is seeing a friendly bear in a field of snow¡­ ------------ I dreamt of that day again¡­ Of my sister¡¯s death. How ironic¡­ ¡°What time is it¡­nn!?¡± Checking the stolen watch, and realizing the time is 5:37 AM, I throw off the blankets, jumping into action. ¡°Wait¡­¡± Blankets¡­? Something is wrong, but my brain is foggy and I cannot place it. What was I doing again? Hmm... I bought a horse, food, and a stagecoach¡­ Then¡­ Ah, right¡­ ¡±Hehehe¡­ I saw them.¡± ¡­ ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ (So this must be that cabin, huh¡­? I guess I can¡¯t skip this cutscene.) I had no reason to come here, so I had tried to avoid it, but the situation has changed. In light of new factors, I am apparently going to hang around for a short spell. Then, I will make a break for it. Though I have something I should take care of first. Somehow, I have slept for about four hours. Frankly, I feel much better. This is good, considering I have got to hike for tens of kilometers before the occupants of this house wake up. Taking care not to make a sound, I slink my way through the three-room house. I was probably taken to a spare bedroom, going by the general layout of the house. My ¡°benefactor¡± must have slept in the main bedroom. The cool, early morning air causes a pleasant tingling sensation on my skin, as I begin the long trek back to my camp with a hurried pace. I wish I could just leave it, but I have to do something about Tomorrow¡¯s breakfast. I wonder if she misses me? Following my path of scarred trees, I begin working out how I should deal with the problem I have been ferried unto. As pointless as it was, I have been taken care of in my time of need by the resident of that house. It is highly unlikely that I would have encountered danger had I stayed there unconscious, but I should not deny their sentiments; Or rather, she will certainly not allow it. I hope I will not have to do too much damage control because of this. Just so you know, contrary to what that clown might believe, I do not revel in the misfortune of others. I only dislike being around them. Being around people causes my stress to build up very quickly, and nobody needs the consequences of that. As a side note, it is very weird that I have not seen a single living creature since I entered these woods. I can hear them if I concentrate, but I still have yet to see anything. This is somehow vexing. Just when I actually want an encounter, they are avoiding me for some reason. Am I leaking killing intent or something? Undisturbed, I trek through the woods lackadaisically, until I finally reach my camp. After checking the surroundings for any signs of theft, I take a quick peek at Tomorrow¡¯s condition, then enter the cabin to get some feed. If I let her roam freely, she could probably graze upon this field, but I have little faith she would stay put. In the case that I was to be present, I might think about it. Unfortunately, I must return to that place, so she will have to remain tethered. Life never waits for you to catch your breath, you know. When I am certain she has enough food handy, I give her a quick pat, before once again traversing the woods to reach that lonely cabin. On my way back, I pay close attention to my surroundings. Just like I thought, the animals are being overly cautious of my existence. What it means, I can only guess. Some larger ones seem to watch from a safe distance away, while the smaller ones retreat well beyond my range of detection. I am in dismay. If all the animals run before I can get near them, how will I level up? Noticing it is already nearing 7:50 AM, I quit messing around, making haste the rest of the way there. As with before, I settle into the guest room bed and wait for the residents to awaken. The house is in silence, so I assume they are asleep. Still, I keep my guard up. I may be humoring them this time, but do not think I would trust them just because they did me a meaningless favor. So far. I have only met crooks, dunces, and unsightly mustaches in this world. It is only natural to be wary. Well, that is just part of the reason¡­ It is precisely 8:00 AM, and from the other room, I can hear an alarm going off. It makes a very sharp sound, like a bell, so it is likely one of those old-fashioned types. Though I guess that is not considered old-fashioned in this world, is it? As time passes, the alarm ceases, and I begin to hear sounds of movement from the main room. Shuffling footsteps. The person these footsteps belong to is either physically impaired or elderly. How they managed to move me into this back room is a mystery. Once the unsteady gait completes its business, it heads to the guest room. Just in case, I have my knife in hand beneath the covers. I am oddly tense for such an ordinary situation. I have seen anime characters go through this very scene in at least twenty different stories, but I just cannot seem to calm down. While I prepare for an attack from any direction, the door opens, revealing a haggardly old woman in a robe. It is uncanny how much she resembles a fictional character with her dried, weathered skin, and a hunched posture. There is no way this hag is not a witch. Oh yeah¡­ That clown mentioned there was a witch in this town, right? That settles it, this woman is most definitely a witch. I have no doubt. She gazes over the room before realizing that I am no longer unconscious. With a quick gasp, her aged and wrinkled face shows a warm, gentle smile. This expression¡­ This woman is genuinely overjoyed at my recovery. Just what is there to be so emotional about? I have only bumped my head. ¡°I see you¡¯re feeling better this morning, young man.¡± ¡°Horrence, m-my name is H-Horrence.¡± Young man¡­ Tch¡­ I have bad memories of that phrase. I will give out an alias just so I never have to hear that phrase again. It is not that this old hag is anything like that man, but I still feel sick hearing it, so I would rather not. ¡°Is that so, well then, it¡¯s nice to meet you Horrence. My name is Viriana. However, do call me whatever you¡¯d like.¡± ¡°Mmhm.¡± Why can I not skip this text? I am a busy person, you know. ¡°A-are you the one who t-took care of me in my u-unsightly state? I g-give you my thanks.¡± ¡°My, there¡¯s no need for that. I simply heard a commotion, and when I found you unconscious, I brought you here. You appeared unharmed, so I assumed you were only sleeping. It was certainly a sight. Oh ho ho¡­¡± As I thought, I was already fully healed when she arrived. From the amount of blood and gore I saw earlier, I would say I was injured quite grievously. Despite this, not only do I feel fine just a few hours later, thanks to the lengthy rest, I feel even better than before. I do not dare mention the blood though, lest I cause suspicion. Like I need this witch woman snooping around my affairs. Let us settle this and be on our way. ¡°Anyways, would you like some breakfast dear? I was just about to prepare it.¡± Hmmm¡­ Even if I am not immune to poison, I am still able to repair any structural damage it may do to me. Neurotoxins might be a little unpleasant, but I suppose I should test out the effects at least once. Wait¡­ Now that I think about it, if I regenerate constantly, does that not mean that one day I will cease aging altogether? Eh¡­? So essentially, I am never going to die¡­? Ever? ¡°Gwyn¡­¡± ¡°What was that dear?¡± ¡°Er¡­ When¡­ When w-will the food be r-ready? I¡¯d like to d-do my m-morning routine.¡± What am I, a pro athlete? Honestly, now I am just floundering. ¡°Oh, it¡¯ll take a good fifteen minutes dear, so go ahead and do what it is you need to do. I¡¯ll call you when it¡¯s ready. Don¡¯t push yourself though, you did just recover and all.¡± I can do without your baseless concerns. Besides, I do not even have a morning routine! After faintly bowing to the witch and leaving the house, taking care to remain out of sight of the windows, I begin banging my head on a tree repetitively. The sheer futility of the fact that the skin heals immediately after each strike only adds to my perturbation. It is that, right? It is always like that. I had been overly optimistic about this whole regeneration thing and failed to realize the gravity it entails. To begin with, proper regeneration is not something you just carelessly throw around. It fundamentally changes things. For instance, I can no longer die of old age, you know. Why? Because my cells will not undergo the customary decline in reproduction typical in the aging process. Then how am I to die...? Simple, I do not. After last night¡¯s events, it is now apparent that my brain can in fact regenerate. And at a similar rate to that of my bones, no less. That means I fulfill all criteria for immortality. I am essentially an immortal. Go figure¡­ This is fucking bullshit. I cannot believe that out of all the abilities I could possibly be stuck with, it ends up being the one I want the least. There is literally no end to my suffering. Besides that, it means that this world has basically been given the death sentence. If I am never going to escape this [Black Corona], then there will eventually come a time when I can no longer hold back. In other words, it is game over. I feel numb. My heart is shriveling up inside my chest. An all-encompassing sense of apathy washes over me. As I lean my back against the tree, I stare blankly into the dull sky. Any negative thoughts I had been thinking have now been wiped clean from my mind. This changes nothing. What difference does it make whether I am immortal, or not? I will still be going to save Gwyn either way, so I might as well just ignore it. The only thing I need to focus on is my goal; Everything else is just a distraction. At least I can factor this into my calculations when I plan ahead for the future. It might raise my chance of success in difficult situations. However, I do not know whether I can trust its reliability. Think about it¡­ Unless I know why I am regenerating in the first place, there is no way I can feel any sense of assurance in this ability. I wish I had a status screen, or menu, or something. Flying blind is just unnerving. ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ ¡°While I am out here, I might as well do some kind of training. I am getting a free meal after all.¡± Moping around is not going to give me the answers I am looking for, so I shall spend my time fortifying my skillset. Since I have already practiced climbing trees last night, today I will work on my skills with a blade. Taking the knife into my right hand, I securely grip the handle with my fingers. The weight feels pleasant, and the blade itself seems to be quite balanced. I suppose it is a pretty decent weapon. Now, let us try it out¡­ ¡°Toh!¡± The knife cleanly slices its way through the air. I put a large amount of force into the swing, and it looked to be enough to cause serious injury. If this were to strike someone¡¯s vitals, their life would be forfeit. Whether I could even strike said vitals is the problem. I should visualize an attacking party. That way, I can practice how to efficiently strike my target. To start with, a bandit would be good. If I am going to travel safely, then I should at least be able to fend off a few bandits. Carefully concentrating on an image, a bandit appears before me. His burly form stands about a meter away, ready to attack at a moment¡¯s notice. With such a feeling, I engage my phantom aggressor. While avoiding his thrust, I dive into range for an attack. Closing in like this allows me to strike more easily while making it more difficult for the enemy. His throat is torn asunder in little more than seconds. Then I push him aside, as I prepare to counter another bandit. It is not long before I am able to skillfully defend against three phantom bandits at once. My learning speed is mind-boggling. How should I put this¡­ I do not feel human... When I was a kid I was heralded as a genius, though I did not see it that way. Back then, I only thought about being the best brother I could be. I read everything, practiced everything, did everything I could possibly do, just so she could be proud of her brother. I had no purpose in life. The world was full of hideous monsters, and she was the one shining light in the void. But all was for naught; I still fell into ruin. When that light was snuffed out, I was left alone in the darkness, weary and broken. What use was the knowledge I had gathered, the talent I had amassed, when I was left without purpose? It is a sob story, I know. However, I will never feel gifted by this prowess. I may once have been considered a great man... But now I am wilted, like the leaves that fall from these trees. ¡®Toh!¡¯ ¡®Toh!¡¯ ¡®Tototoh!¡¯ ¡®Toh!¡¯ ¡®Toh¡­¡¯ As the leaves slice apart, I feel parts of my accumulated stress go along with them. Maybe I should have a morning routine. It feels good to exercise my body in the cool of the morning air. ¡°My, my! You certainly are talented, Horrence.¡± My eye twitches, as I am interrupted from my trance by the witch who has intruded upon my piteous outburst. Should this hag not be brewing her poison? I have training to do, you know. Why do the people of this world always have to disrupt my plans? ¡°Is t-that so¡­?¡± Get to the point already. Do not bore me with your trifles¡­ ¡°Hmm¡­ Say, you¡¯re a witch, are you not?¡± ¡­ This hag¡­ If I had let my guard down even a bit, my poker-face might have been done in by that blow. Luckily, I have not once let my guard down from the start. Although, she did just manage to sneak up on me¡­ She is quite spry for her old age. It must be a witch¡¯s magic¡­ Chapter VII | Heart of Spines, Dawn of Cataclysm The undertones of her voice are like grinding on slate. Where the earlier kindly old grandmother went, I have no idea. This hag has a ferocious aura that belies the superficial, cracked surface of her aged appearance. Compared to the light-hearted, simpering townspeople, I have yet to meet anyone who looks as formidable as she does. ¡°Y-you are mistaken.¡± Whether I could be considered a witch or not I do not really understand myself, but openly decanting confidential information does not appeal to me in the slightest. What does this hag even know about me? ¡°I am a s-simple vagrant.¡± Honestly, I really am¡­ ¡°Young man, you can¡¯t hide such things. All we witches can sense one another. Your aura, in particular, is by far the most oppressive one I¡¯ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Besides, Those are your¡­ Insides on the ground over there, correct?¡± ¡®Tch¡¯ Stupid witches, and your stupid auras¡­ ¡°Beats me¡­ I know n-nothing about witches. T-though I hear they are not thought too f-fondly of around here. Hmph¡­¡± As in, if you do not leave this topic alone, you will be hard-pressed if I were to mention it to someone from the Guild of Judgement. I knew this woman was a witch¡­ Wait¡­ Maybe I knew she was a witch because I am a witch¡­ Huh¡­ Oh well. Not like it matters, either way, it is just a symptom of a larger problem. I did not choose it, nor do I want others to know I have it. Doctor¡¯s confidentiality, or whatnot. Just leave it be, hag. ¡°That¡¯s true¡­ The people are afraid of what they know nothing about, and the Gods don¡¯t like the power balance to be disrupted. But you seem to be afraid of neither God nor Human. Just what is it that you fear?¡± ¡°¡­¡± I fear where this conversation is headed¡­ ¡°Don¡¯t worry dear, I wouldn¡¯t dare intrude. We may be of the same kind, but everyone has their own personal battles. Just know¡­ You shan¡¯t be judged here.¡± I will keep that in mind, though I never plan on meeting you again. In fact, I do not even remember your name; It is of so little importance to me. ¡­ On the other hand¡­ ¡°Oi, Witch¡­ H-how do I use magic?¡± I ended up just blurting it out. I know it is troublesome to be connected in any way to this whole witch thing, but there is something that has been bugging me for a while now. If magic is as I expect it is then there are certain things that do not make sense. ¡°You¡­ You did form a Contract, right?¡± ¡°¡­¡± Oh! It is one of those kinds of magics. That explains it¡­ Like hell it does! ¡°W-what Contract?¡± ¡°Hmmm¡­ Very interesting¡­¡± No, not interesting. I asked you a question. Last time I checked, questions beget answers. Even though I can pretty much work it out myself, some of the finer details remain a mystery to me. A mystery that would take far too long to decipher using trial and error. ¡°I see¡­ Well, let me ask you this in reply. What is magic to you?¡± What is magic? Shooting fire and teleportation come to mind, as well as raising the dead, influencing the weather, manipulating the physical plane, it is endless really. Why is she asking such a base question? Is she testing me? Do I need to be ¡°pure of heart¡± in order to cast magic? Then it is little wonder. No¡­ That does not seem to be her intention. Something this old witch said is bothering me¡­ The people are afraid of what they know nothing about¡­ This phrase indicates that humans have yet to discover or utilize magic. Whether this is through some form of restriction placed on them or simple inability, I cannot say. In which case, that contract she mentioned would be the only way to even learn about magic. Thus, I supposedly have knowledge that only someone who knows of the contract should possess. Hmmm¡­ I suppose that is somewhat interesting¡­ The fact that I obtained this forbidden knowledge from an alternate dimension would probably blow this old witch¡¯s mind. Best not to cause any unnecessary damage here. ¡°Beats me¡­¡± If all else fails, always feign ignorance. Even if they call your bluff, which to be honest, this devious hag could do from a mile away, it makes not a lick of difference. This knowledge is locked tight. ¡°Well, no matter. The fact is, we mortal races do not originally have the ability to use magic. Therefore, we witches must borrow it from those that do; From the very Gods themselves.¡± Hoooh¡­ This is getting interesting. ¡°You see dear, each God or Goddess possesses their very own unique magical trait. Along with their natural immortality, these abilities are what separates them from the mortal races.¡± I can see why those God fellows despise witches so much, considering they are unabashedly pirating their beloved abilities. ¡°When a God happens to bear a child, a being both mortal and magical is born. Given the holy title of Angels, they also possess the abilities of their parent. Unfortunately, they do not inherit the gift of immortality.¡± Oooo. That sucks¡­ If you knew that when you finally birthed a child, you shall undoubtedly live to see him perish, would you be able to go through with it? It is all well and good to say that the life you lived with them would be worth it. But to lose something so important to you is like losing part of your soul. I never want to experience that again¡­ ¡°However, although they do not receive the gift of immortality, they instead obtain the ability to pass along their trait to others. By letting a mortal ingest a part of their being, that mortal can then receive permission to use the magic themselves. This process is what we call the Contract, and it is the only way for mortals to use magic.¡± ¡­ ¡°Because most Gods covet their unique powers, it is quite rare that an Angel performs this ceremony. Those that do, are alienated and hunted, and are thus given the title, ¡°Fallen Angels¡±. It is because of these deviants that we few witches have received the ability to use magic.¡± It is also why the mortal races that revere the Gods, those who follow the Code of Ethics if you will so despise witches. They have no idea why they despise them, but they do not care. If it is good for the holy Gods, it is good for them. The saddest part is that they are not even religious. This is a society built upon propaganda, and the dictators are the Gods, standing on the backs of the powerless mortals. Then again, there is nothing unusual about that, is there? You can sugarcoat it all you like, but in the end, civilized society is just a pyramid scheme. The few on top hold all of the cards. This is not inherently wrong. Important jobs go to important people. I just wish those important people would use some discretion, or maybe even some humility when making these important decisions. So are witches good, or bad? This, I cannot say. It is impossible to judge the collective without sufficient data. Those that do, tend to use baseless assumptions, which only makes them seem like unscrupulous pigs in my eyes. I do not appreciate being subjected to tyranny by whim. Anyways, this subject has revealed something unpleasant about my situation that I would rather not have to deal with. Rather, it explains a lot. For instance, take a look at my specs for a moment. I have my own unique magical ability, yet I also have the said immortality. Rather than calling me a witch, it is far more accurate for me to be classified as a God. Seems my status has risen once again. It feels sour on my tongue even thinking such a thing, let alone that I cannot currently disprove it. This is all because of the [Black Corona]. How far can the madness possibly extend itself before it is satisfied? I am lost in this melancholy¡­ ¡®Sigh¡¯ So in the end, that volatile power is the only magic I am capable of at the moment¡­ I figured as much, but I just could not let it go. I mean, being a glass cannon is certainly main-character-like, but I would prefer something a little more effectual. Oh well, I do not despise lemonade. ¡°I understand¡­¡± ¡°Do you dear? Well, I didn¡¯t mean to prattle on, you just looked like you could use some answers. In any case, I¡¯ll go finish preparing some breakfast, so don¡¯t worry, and continue on with whatever you like. However, dear... Do try not to leave a mess.¡± As she says this, her eyes point to where I was banging my head against the tree. A substantial amount of blood coats the bark. ¡®Tch¡¯ Mind your own business, hag. Although, I do want to lay low, so maybe it would be better if I did not leave a trail of human debris everywhere I went. Instead, I should try to work out a new plan of action. Now that I know that not only can I sense other magic user¡¯s auras, but they can also sense mine, I am kind of in a bind. It is a double-edged blade, so I have to be even more careful. If I go by what the witch said, my aura is especially potent, so I will definitely draw unwanted attention from sordid types. The whole stealth aspect goes down the drain when it comes to this broken power. If all the work I put in is for naught the first time I come across a single magic wielder, ugh¡­ The crushing futility hurts just thinking about it. As it stands, there are holes in my plans, so in order to keep the contents from spilling out, I am going to need a viable workaround. First things first, I need to find out if it is possible to use hypnotism on not only witches but also those Angels and Gods. If it is impossible, I am left with only force as my bottom line. This is inexcusable. I cannot bring about positive results if I am constantly beating down all the little flies who approach me. I need the security that hypnotism can provide, no doubt about it. Still, I would rather not hypnotize each and everything that gets in my way. Strategem is still paramount for me to achieve any kind of success. ¡°Unnnngh¡­¡± This sucks¡­ It seems I am going to have to test out hypnotism on that hag. It is kind of ungrateful of me, but I never particularly asked for, or needed her help in the first place, did I? Perhaps she might agree to a demonstration if I were to ask her¡­ Oh well, it is about time for me to go in for breakfast anyway, so I will try to bring it up casually¡­ No promises though¡­ The earthy scent of fresh vegetables wafts through the small house as I enter. Since the room is only lit with the light of the fireplace, besides a small lantern hanging above the central table, it gives a feeling of gloom, which I happen to find appealing. The witch is tending to what looks like some kind of fried meal, though I doubt I could guess the ingredients. I am sure it is some kind of hash or something, but who knows. ¡°It¡¯s just about ready dear, just have a seat while I dish it out.¡± There are three places set around the table, yet no one is present, save this hag and myself. I presume someone will be coming later on. That puts a damper on my plans. Perhaps I should bump up my schedule¡­? Although¡­ That can wait until after I eat. In all honesty, I am so hungry that I feel nauseous. Therefore, the potential for a free breakfast is causing me quite the distress. I do not trust this witch, but I should be able to ingest any type of poison with no kind of life-threatening side-effects, so I most likely will not be in any danger. Besides that, this fried food smell is really enticing. I expected some kind of bland potato dish since this world is somewhat victorian-like, but I guess the food here is better than I thought. The economy in this world is much sturdier than what I remember from history books. Then again, they do have strong leadership. If politicians back on Earth had superpowers, I am sure they would be able to get more done as well. Even if it ended up as an oligarchy, results are results. If it is good for the people and good for the economy, how can you possibly argue against it? Anyways, this food is really damn good¡­ ¡°T-this is quite good.¡± ¡°Oh, thank you, dear. Though it¡¯s just something I whipped up.¡± No, no, no. I come from the future, you know¡­ Have I mentioned how good this is? There does not even appear to be poison in it! ¡°Would you like some more, dear?¡± ¡°Nnnnnn¡­ I would¡­¡± I finish my first helping but still cannot help it. Is this a gateway drug? Oh well, what is one more plate going to harm? ¡®Phew¡­¡¯ That was the best fried-mystery-vegetables I have ever eaten. Hmmm¡­ I am somehow reminded of when I would cook for my sister. What a pleasant memory. I really give my compliments to this old hag. It was definitely worth what I went through last night. However¡­ It is time to get down to business. She may have done me a favor, and now I am truly grateful for her help, but I cannot let such things cloud my judgment; Not now¡­ With my much-needed chance to test whether hypnosis is effective against witches, there is no way I am going to leave it. Not to mention that I wasted valuable time on a second plateful. I am betting this mysterious third guest will arrive at any moment, so I will have to skip the courtesy and cut to the chase already. ¡°F-forgive my abruptness¡­¡± ¡°Yes¡­?¡± ------------ Much like any other town or city, Fort Wayfield is not absent of its own fair share of problems. For instance, despite the ten meter high walls surrounding its exterior, protecting it from most of the vile Beastkin, the town is occasionally targeted by the rare flying types of Beastkin. Luckily, atop the walls are defensive artillery, which if employed correctly, usually manage to fend off any assault. Though there are the off times when a stray beastkin makes it through both layers of defenses, the ruckus is eventually taken care of by either rotating the artillery on the walls or by one of the ranged attack vehicles owned by the COG. These machines run on steam like other vehicles but are equipped with expensive armored-plating and steam-powered Gatling guns. They are a force to be reckoned with, for sure. Aside from the flying Beastkin, there is also the problem of homelessness. Like one would expect, a walled town tends to place a burden on the amount of residential space available. Thus, when the population increases suddenly, some dispute over housing tends to crop up. Even if the population were stable, there is always the problem of unemployment. To live requires money, so when one can no longer afford this cost, say they were fired from their job or received significant injury, they are cast from their houses and left to fend with the elements. Currently, in Fort Wayfield unemployment is at an all-time low, but this does not mean that it is without altogether. Those that do not fit into the job class are often left by the wayside, such as children or elderly. Even an orphanage has a maximum capacity, so the demand for admittance is in most cases too high to accommodate every child in need. Any child left behind lives a harsh life of begging and scavenging. More often than not, they are unable to manage. But¡­ Hidden beneath the elegant facade of the townscape, is the harsh reminder of the darker part of humanity. There, some desperate children choose to trade their very bodies, so as to gain some semblance of a chance at survival. Amongst the back alleys are a few establishments where clients may relieve some of the stress from their long workdays, by engaging in their carnal desires. Just like on Earth, in places like these, one of the fundamental aspects of human nature becomes nothing more than a theater of lies. Unlike Earth, however, the laws to protect these children from such establishments do not exist, so they fall into the clutches of depravity. They become soiled by the cruelty of humankind. Luckily, not all of the homeless children choose this route. Those who manage to stand firm against such a moral dilemma, although left to get by on donations and scraps, they are able to retain their dignity, and hopefully make it through these desperate times of trouble. She is one of them. A child, abandoned by her parents, or perhaps they passed on without her. Nevertheless, she is a meager child of the street. A lonely stray. Despite this irrefutable fact, as this girl dashes through the crowded sidewalks of the early morning rush-hour, it is not a forlorn face that she adorns. The patched and faded one-piece dress and her long dark hair flutter in the breeze, as she dodges passersby, frantically making her way forward. A look of excitement crosses her lips briefly before once again she displays a stifled look of childish temperance. The whole scene causes some people to look on in subtle distaste, but this does not bother her. She is used to being looked at with eyes of pity, or scorn. Now she simply ignores such things. They would never understand how she feels anyway, so what does it matter? No, not today. Not this morning. Not when she is headed to her happy place. The place that lets her get away from the noisy buzz of the busy streets, or the smelly towers of smoke that pollute this annoying town. Far away from the dirty stares of the shallow townspeople. Crossing the boundary of Fort Wayfield, the great gates that mark the entrance to the town, she passes by the statue-like guards. They pay little attention to a poor vagrant like her, only ever seeming to move when a Beastkin attacks the town. Even then, it is usually settled before they can even be of any assistance. Past the gate, she runs across the field that lines the sturdy walls, straight into the woods without a trace. Following her memory, she traverses the maze-like forest with ease, taking care to circle around any dangerous creatures that she meets along the way. It takes little more than an hour at the speed she travels, and then finally, she arrives at her happy place. Morning light trickles down through the trees, causing a beautiful scene, as she gazes at the quaint little house hidden amongst the woods. This is what she likes to think of as her home, although she knows better. Still, of all the places she knows of, this one is where she is the happiest. Much different from the bleak atmosphere of that forsaken town, this place has a mystical serenity to it. It is humble, true, but it is far more than she has to look forward to back in Fort Wayfield. If anything, this place is a palace compared to huddling in a dirty alleyway. But life costs money, and to make money, she has to be around the people. Therefore, staying in the city is currently her only option. Though this does not stop her from taking time to visit every so often. The owner of this house is a kind old woman she calls Grandma Bee. Of course, this is not her actual name. But as her real name is quite lengthy and hard to pronounce, in the end, the girl chose this one. Grandma Bee lives deep in the woods, so as not to cause trouble with the other townspeople. Being one of what the people refer to as ¡°witches¡±, if anyone were to find out about it, she would be in severe danger. But she loves the forest, and with her magic, can even fight off the wild Beastkin that lurk amongst the trees. Though she grows vegetables around back, it is not a large garden. The supply would likely run out if she were to take care of someone such as the girl. Thus, even though she loves Grandma Bee a great deal, the girl opts to stay in Fort Wayfield. Nobody in the town pays any attention to ¡°just another beggar girl¡±, but Grandma Bee treats her with respect and a warmth that the lonely girl so craves. In the end, the girl just cannot help but return to this place. This particular morning included. A billowing cloud of smoke rises from the chimney, symbolizing the fire is ablaze inside the house. The girl again leaks her glowing excitement. ¡®Ahem¡¯ Clearing her throat, she manages to suppress her embarrassing, bubbling emotions. Then she attempts her most casual stride towards the door. She almost faintly hears the kindly old woman, warmly conversing with herself, like she so often does. This makes the girl smile involuntarily as she places her hand upon the door¡¯s knob¡­ But she stops¡­ Now closer to the house, she definitely makes out Grandma Bee¡¯s cheerful ramblings. However, not just to herself. Infrequently, a mumbling, bass-filled voice can be heard as well. Frozen solid, a bead of sweat drips down her tense forehead. It is unheard of for Grandma Bee to receive guests, apart from the girl, of course. But it is clearly a man¡¯s voice she hears. Who could this man possibly be? The girl¡¯s confusion brings her to a halt. Much to the contrary of the tension from her current situation, her stomach, apparently unaware of her strife, makes itself known¡­ ¡®Guuuuu¡¯ A rumble echoes throughout the surroundings. This causes the girl to blush and place her hands on her stomach in an attempt to hide the sound, only to realize the pointlessness of such an action. Thankfully, feeling a little less nervous, she decides to check on the situation. Slowly opening the door a crack, she peeks into the dimly lit interior. The girl instantly regrets her decision, for once her eyes manage to adjust to the change in lighting, she catches sight of an abominable thing. Tremors run rampant throughout her body, causing her hair to erect as if in some sort of defensive gesture, as her limbs become weak like pudding. The very moment she lays eyes on that man, her senses become fraught with primal terror. The man¡¯s stature is just like that of any other man, if not a little shorter, but the impression he exudes is like that of a mountain in comparison. From his disheveled attire to his wildly strewn, black hair, his pallid, ghost-like skin, to the coal black rings around his eyes, everything about his appearance deeply unsettles her heart. But it is the eyes¡­ The eyes that are cold and dead, with no emotions being transmitted. Instead, a maddening foreboding swirls in their depths, like a lunar eclipse; A complete lack of light. How can a living being make such an expression? As the terrifying pressure washes over her, she attempts to cry out in fear, but no sound escapes her lips. Her voice, simply stuck in her throat, as she struggles to even breathe. What seems like an eternity goes by before she manages to catch her breath. All the while, unable to look away from the sight. When she does regain her footing though, she scans the rest of the room. At that moment, she finally notices the old woman, slumped awkwardly in her chair. Without the slightest hesitation, the girl yanks open the door and runs over to where the old woman rests. ¡°Grandma Bee!¡± Quickly examining the old woman, the girl then turns to glare at the man. ¡°What have you done to Grandma Bee!?¡± The tiny girl¡¯s voice yelps, as she stands and points angrily at the man, with shaky fingers. ¡°¡­¡± The man, conversely, says nothing. ------------ If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I can say nothing, nor can I even think straight¡­ Just barely have I induced the witch when I am rudely interrupted by our third guest. I had been planning on finishing this before this happened, but the witch enticed me with her evil concoction, and I ended up having seconds. This took up too much of my valuable time in the process. It is not the abruptness which causes me confusion though. Rather, it is the intruder¡¯s appearance. It is Gwyn, my sister. No, someone who looks just like her. The chance of someone being this identical to Gwyn is astronomically slim, let alone that we are actually crossing paths like this. From the dirty and ragged appearance, I presume she is some sort of urchin child. Other than that, she looks exactly how I remember her. Just like she did on that day¡­ My scars are burning. I feel nauseous, and the entire room is spinning. I cannot stay here. I have to leave this place, now! With dizzy footsteps, I aim for the door. However, before I can reach any kind of safety, the urchin child runs in front of me, holding up her arms as if to block my advance. Her eyes are winced closed, out of fear, though her face also portrays anger and distress. It is clear that she is worried about the witch, but for right now at least, I need to get away and calm down. You will have to forgive me, urchin child. ¡°Look!¡± Urged on by my voice, the child locks eyes with mine. Now ensnared by the mysterious power, she freezes in place, as the mist flows from my eyes to hers. Having been successfully induced, I quickly toss a command in my desperation. ¡°Sleep!¡± Thus, she limply crumbles to the ground. She did not bump her head, so I am pretty sure she¡¯s ok. Now to escape¡­ Or so I had hoped, but I am held back, once again. I have to hand it to this scamp, to be able to grab onto my ankle in such a condition. I might shed a tear¡­ No really, bad things will happen if I do not get out of here soon. You are causing me great physical and mental anguish, so please let go. Gently, so as not to disturb her sleep, I break free of her grasp and finally exit into the yard. The fresh air soothes my nerves, a bit. But I am still a mess, so I lean against a tree and flop heavily to the ground. ¡®Phew¡¯ This should be the reason that clown told me about this town¡¯s witch. If I had not come here, I would have never met that child, whoever she is. Unfortunately, just being around her causes me great woe. ¡®Ungh!¡¯ Is this guilt¡­? No¡­ It feels more like some kind of curse cast upon me¡­ Placing my hand on my face, I trace the scars with my fingers, trying to pour ice on my heart. All of the blood in my body is boiling as if trying to escape and licks of black flame are still consuming my chest. I cannot seem to calm down. What is this? Has the [Black Corona] finally found a point of weakness? This must be it piling on the pressure in an attempt to wreak havoc. Not a pleasant thought¡­ ¡®Thump thump, thump thump!¡¯ I can feel my heart beating loudly all throughout my body, and there is a painful ringing in my ears. It is drowning out all the noises around me, getting louder, and louder, as my heart pumps harder and harder. All the colors are draining from the scenery, bleeding away into a vortex, like cream poured into swirling coffee. I am steadily losing my grip. Meeting that child has toppled the foundations from under me and paralyzed my ability to keep the [Black Corona] from spilling out into the world. It is much different than when I siphon off bits of it at a time. It is leaking out on its own. I can already feel my body absorbing huge masses of power. (I need to evacuate the area, or the town will be in grave danger.) ¡®Rrrgh!¡¯ Attempting to steady myself against the tree, it is obvious that my body is already having trouble following orders; Or rather, adjusting its strength, since a large portion of the trunk tears off in my hand. That is much faster than I was anticipating¡­ Looks like I will have to run if I want to get away in time. Taking a few small steps I attempt to lightly jog, only to have myself propelled through the forest like a bullet. It is significantly harder to control myself than the time I fought the golem. I really am losing my grip. Trees speed by me as their colors blend together, while any unlucky enough to get in my way are snapped like twigs. My body just tumbles through the air like a ragdoll, destroying anything it touches. Streaking through the forest wildly, I finally come to rest after bouncing multiple times, grinding against the ground for several meters. The explosion from the impact causes my ears to buzz loudly, suffocating the surrounding sounds. There is a large smoldering gouge cut into the ground behind me, and a row of downed trees beyond that. It looks like an airplane crash-landed in the forest. Nevertheless, at least I have stayed away from the town¡­ Although, I definitely lose points for style. Oh well, now I just have to somehow stop myself from destroying this entire world. My estimates are¡­ Harrowing. But that does not mean it is impossible, right¡­? ¡®Mmmmh¡­¡¯ My consciousness is becoming hazy, and I can no longer move my body¡­ Am I falling asleep? Could I possibly sleep through this whole problem? If only it would be that easy¡­ ------------ I have come to a bleak sort of place. Grey skies unleash a perpetually drowning rain, with ankle-deep, black water, as far as the eye can see. There are no visible landmarks, so I am unable to get a clear picture of the size. From the looks of it, it is an endless plane. This must be what my heart looks like¡­ ¡°Rain, huh¡­?¡± It is more like some kind of purgatory. Perhaps I am being judged for my sins? Heh, good luck with that¡­ Bored with the whole endless rain theme, I pick a direction and begin walking in a straight line. Hopefully, I will find something helpful amidst all the dreary scenery. Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours. Still, I travel through the freezing rain, finding nothing. At some point, I start running, even using [Corruption], in an attempt to move beyond my limits. Everything is pointless. The rain keeps falling, and the emptiness keeps expanding. Somehow, the way the [Black Corona] is acting feels more like it did when I was back on Earth. I still sense its looming presence, only it feels less corporeal like it was in Gearia¡­ Or is it Substantial¡­? Tangible, maybe¡­? ¡°I am so boooooooored!¡± ¡®Pwoof¡¯ As if responding to my outburst, the familiar grey smoke bursts forth, symbolizing the coming of that incessant clown. ¡°{My, My! How kind of you to invite me, Wade. Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± ¡®Tch!¡¯ I did not invite you¡­ I would have rather had... ¡°Where is she?¡± ¡°{Tut tut, Wade. You know how it works in here, each of us attends to our own business¡­}¡± Yeah, I wish you would mind your own business. ¡°So, why are you here?¡± ¡°{Feeling duped, are we? Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ I assure you, I was not to blame for that child¡¯s refusal to appear¡­ Let¡¯s just say, I chose to use a wasted opportunity, and manifested in her stead.}¡± That is specifically not minding your own business. Does this clown have no pride or morals? ¡°No thank you.¡± ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ I couldn¡¯t miss this chance to revel in your current predicament, Wade. It would just be wrong of me, you see¡­}¡± That sounds more like it. I should have known it would be for such a depraved reason. How much of a one track mind does this bastard have? ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ ¡°Anyways, now that you are here, be of some use. Where the hell am I supposed to be going?¡± So I can go the opposite of where you tell me¡­ ¡°{Hmmm? Are you saying you want me to do you a favor?}¡± ¡®Tch¡¯ Like hell! I would rather cut my limbs off andingest their entirety then owe you a favor. ¡°Nevermind! I am in enough of a mess as it is, without you pouring oil on the fire.¡± I will just have to keep walking until I find something. Really¡­ The one time I actually want to see her, she could at least show her face. I am always putting up with your shit, you know¡­ I hope nothing happened to her¡­ Wait, what am I talking about? She is just a figment of my imagination¡­ I think¡­ ¡®Unnngh¡­¡¯ ¡°{Are you quite alright, Wade? You appear to be having conflicting thoughts.}¡± Like that is anything new¡­ ¡°{Well¡­ I¡¯ve quite enjoyed our little chat, Wade, but it¡¯s about time I was on my way. I suppose a hint isn¡¯t too much to ask for in return for this delicious meal. It¡¯s the least I could do, you see.}¡± ¡°Oh goody¡­¡± ¡°{First, you¡¯ve most likely already guessed that this is a dream realm. However, need I remind you, Wade, your¡¯s is no ordinary sleep. Finally, if you¡¯re thinking of looking for that child, I would suggest otherwise. Although let¡¯s face it, you¡¯d never listen to me anyway, now would you? Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­}¡± With that, the clown turns to smoke and dissipates. A glinting object appears in its place, landing in the black water below. Hesitantly, I reach into the water to retrieve it, only to be cut upon a sharp edge. ¡°Ow¡­ Wait, it hurts¡­?¡± Once I manage to find the object, I observe its sleek metallic form. Huh¡­ I would recognize this anywhere¡­ A kitchen knife. But not just any kitchen knife¡­ Bile begins to rise in my stomach, despite being in a dream. ¡°I see¡­¡± No wonder I was unable to find her¡­ ¡°HEY!!¡± Suddenly I am assaulted on the left side of my face. Pain shoots through my jaw as I crumple to the ground in a daze. After spitting out the blood that fills my mouth, I look up to see my assailant. None other than my own father, red in the face, stagnant alcohol on his breath. How nostalgic¡­ ¡°Did you eat your tongue or something, boy?! I¡¯m talking to you!¡± The strike I have been given is not just some weak punch, with my father being an ex-martial arts practitioner. The fact that he has chosen a place so easily visible just shows his lack of common decency. Though I do tend to heal faster than other people. Who knows, maybe that is why he chose such an obvious spot¡­ Just to flaunt it. The scenery has made a complete transformation, now representing a scene from the life we used to live, full of distasteful memories. The dimly lit living room is scattered with the aftermath of outrageous depravity. When I attempt to rise from the floor, my arms fail me, causing me to slump back into a pathetic heap. It appears my father struck with such force that it must have rattled my brain in the process. ¡°Heh, what a pathetic sight. What use is that brain of yours if you¡¯re too stupid to use it? You should just stay down there and watch! Hya ha ha!¡± Heinous laughter erupts from his core, as he watches me fail to stand up. I must regain control. I must put a stop to his path of wretched malevolence. He may be more physically capable than me, but I have a secret weapon¡­ After another heavy kick to my abdomen, he eventually bores of my plight and turns his eyes to the center of the room. There, sprawled limply in a sorry state, is none other than the dim vestiges of the soul light of my world. My sister, Gwyn. She has valiantly challenged my father¡¯s tyranny towards my Mother, only to be brutally made an example of. Her wounds are such that I have trouble even looking at her form. A grotesque suit of badges that she has received for her valor. My stomach begins to churn, for the malicious grin on my father¡¯s face is a clear sign of his intentions. Despite trying my hardest, I am still unable to right myself. In all likelihood, I am suffering from the effects of a moderate concussion. Approaching her helpless form, my father displays an insanity unlike that of what he has ever shown before, wresting my twelve-year-old sister¡¯s clothes from her body. My blood boils, and a dark haze begins to swell from inside my chest. What the hell does this trash think he is doing?! How dare he pollute my only light with his impure heart. To desecrate my holy place¡­ All along I have watched from the shadows. I knew of his mind, yet I have held hesitations towards cutting him out of our lives altogether. My mother always tells of his glory days. Nevertheless, his mind slowly turned, until he began taking out his anger upon others. Even his own family were not free of his tyranny. My mother bore most of the brunt, trying her hardest to hold the family together. My mother loves my father, and my sister loves my mother, so I could do nothing. I simply did my best to make my sister¡¯s life more comfortable. But now I know, this man can no longer be saved¡­ A cold numbness fills my body, as I finally rise to my feet. The kitchen knife, which I had hidden under my belt earlier, is now held in my right hand. All of my restrictions are now lifted. I will no longer hesitate. My father has mounted my sister¡¯s body in his maddened state, severing the line which should never have been crossed. My sister has put up as much fight as she can muster in her battered state, but my Father is simply too strong. The pain of the act is displayed vividly upon her tear-streaked face. I approach deftly, like a shadow flickering across the room, placing myself behind his exposed back. His body is hunched over, engaged in his filthy desires, so I am easily able to reach his vitals. Thanks to this, my task takes but moments to complete. Reaching my right arm around his shoulder, I perform a lightning-quick slice across the tender areas of his neck. A thick spray of blood erupts from the gouge, coating everything in front of him in a red mist. But by pulling him by the hair, I make sure no blood sullies my sister¡¯s body. Finally, I stab the knife through his right eye socket, straight into his brain. His death is swift and mostly painless, which is more than he deserves. Despite this, his body continues to spasm, spewing blood all over me. After wiping the area around my eyes, I remove his body from atop my sister and place him on the floor, where a pool begins to form around him. I feel nothing. In my eyes, my Father has been reduced to nothing more than slaughtered livestock. It is laudable that all of this could have been prevented, had I simply done this sooner. I let him live, despite knowing this would happen. I could have stopped him¡­ Not that it matters now¡­ My sister is huddled in the fetal position, lifelessly. She is likely in shock; She has been through more than enough. There is little chance she will make it through those injuries, with massive internal bleeding and organ failure. The pain she is going through is more than a sane person can handle. ¡°W¡­ Wade¡­¡± But she has always been a feisty one¡­ ¡°I am here¡­¡± Holding her hand in mine, I lower my face so she can hear me more easily. Her body likely no longer works the way she wants it to, but she manages to apply a faint pressure into her grip. ¡°Is there anything I can do to help you in any way?¡± Not likely, but I want to ease her heart at least. If being near her will allow her to be more comfortable, I will stay until the very end. ¡°K¡­ Ki¡­¡± It takes all of her strength and more to form the words. ¡°K¡­ Kill me¡­¡± I figured as much¡­ I do not know what is going through her mind, or why she has asked me to do such a thing. Perhaps just to end her suffering. To end her suffering means to remove my one and only light from this world. To kill my own sister. Can I even do such a thing¡­? ¡°As you wish¡­¡± I can¡­ There is not a single thing in this world that I would not do for my sister. Whether it be to destroy myself or to destroy the whole world, I would not falter. For this poor child, who has seen the dark of humankind, and shown me the light, this is the least I can do¡­ ¡°W¡­ wait¡­¡± Ugh¡­ I¡­ I have some idea of what she will ask next, but I wish she would not¡­ Please spare your brother at least this one thing¡­ ¡°Before that¡­¡± ¡®Cough, cough¡¯ ¡°Would you¡­ make love¡­ to me¡­?¡± ¡­ Hah¡­ Considering what she has gone through, it is hard to find a logical explanation for such a question. If she wanted this act to cleanse her of what my father has done, I would understand. Somehow, that does not seem to be the reason. Which only leaves love. This child¡¯s pure, unadulterated love causes me to hesitate¡­ ¡°I¡­ I cannot love¡­ I am sorry¡­¡± It is as simple as that. I do not feel love¡­ I may play at having emotions so that my sister feels more comfortable around me, but I do not innately experience those emotions. This is especially true for a complex emotion like love¡­ ¡°Silly¡­ Ngh¡­ I know that¡­ But still¡­¡± ¡°¡­Alright. I understand¡± I would rather not lie to my sister when she is on her deathbed. But if it is not love that she wishes for, then I have no reason to refuse. I feel, perhaps, that she may be too young for such an act. Though her life is soon ending, so the time is only now. I myself am a virgin, but that does not mean that I am foreign to the subject. I have done research on relationships and procreation, mostly from the books my mother reads. But not once have I felt aroused by another person. I have never even become erect before. This likely stems from the same place as all my other illnesses. Whether it will hinder me now, I do not know¡­ I cannot move her body too much due to her injuries, so I lean forward and place my lips against her forehead. Incited by my touch, her weakened arms reach towards me, seeking confirmation. I reciprocate by embracing her shoulders and focus now on her pale quivering lips. Likely, she is frightened by what is to come. Death is an overwhelming concept. Besides, just moments ago, she was taken against her will. I cannot ease her fear of death, but I can at least be as gentle with her as possible. I would never purposely harm my Sister. Lightly, like a feather, I hover my lips in front of hers. Our breath begins to intertwine, and while her arms weakly caress my back, we finally begin to kiss. My first kiss tastes of iron and salt, but it is stimulating, and engaging, her being her usual feisty self, after all. Her cheeks begin to flush, and some color comes back into her skin. However, I know this is only false hope. In all likeliness, she might die at any second. I am awash with a chilling numbness, as I perform the steps, doing my best to play the part she is looking for. In the end, it is like this, huh¡­? Even my most important thing in this world is unable to create a connection with me. As I continue to stimulate her body, despite her increasingly aroused state, there is still no reaction on my end. Her form is beautiful and smooth, her scent is dizzying, her murmured moans, as I grace her skin, are sensual and tantalizing, even her nectar as it flows from her most precious of areas is a flavor I will never forget. But without the emotions to back it up, it simply feels as if I am playing an elaborate musical instrument. Am I even a human being¡­? A climax and a release, with her digging her sharp nails deep into my face and chest, as her body is being pushed to the brink of pleasure. Then, once the chemical high begins to die down, it is painfully obvious what her body¡¯s condition has become. There is no longer any time to delay. Taking my palms, I place them atop her neck, as if I were going to perform the Heimlich-maneuver on her trachea. I wish for her to pass as quickly and painlessly as possible, so instead of reusing the kitchen knife, I will do it this way. Seemingly knowing what is to come, my sister begins to smile. After raising my upper body momentarily, I apply a massive amount of force upon her neck, fracturing her spine in the process. This is the most humane way to kill her that I can think of at this time. It is fast, and the paralysis should prevent most of the pain. Or at least I am hoping. No matter how I go about it, the fact will not change. I have murdered her. As I feel her spine break in two with my bare hands, the scenery around me begins to shatter into glass shards, revealing the bleak rainy world from before. Everything is swallowed by the tide, save for the small bit of land beneath my sister¡¯s body. Taking a step back from the scene, I begin to sort and categorize my slurry of thoughts, making sense of my transgression. The cold, calculative mind I was born with has become fraught with errors and asynchronous anomalies. The shadows start to creep across the barrier, overtaking my heart and transforming my body to more resemble my mind. I look at the water¡¯s reflection, at the gruesome form that is now displayed there. Bulbous veins have spread like electrical circuitry, flooding my body with black poison. The muscles themselves are deformed and pulsating as if snakes writhe beneath their surface. Slapping away the hateful image, I return to where she lay, still and lifeless. I remember this scene, her white, immaculate skin accented by red blood. Even in death, and despite the wounds that she bears, her beauty is almost untouched. Then there is me, and my monstrous form¡­ After wiping away the single tear that has formed beneath her eye, I sit back and watch over her as she rests. I never understood why she smiled back then¡­ Maybe I never will. Suddenly, I am swept by exhaustion, so I lie down next to her. I carefully make sure not to disrupt her slumber. Why does it always turn out this way? Why am I unable to protect her, no matter what I try? Am I wrong to want to change this cursed fate? Although such complicated questions fester inside me, I eventually fall asleep. Huddled next to my sister¡¯s body, I am accompanied by the pelting of the rain. When I awoke¡­ The town of Fort Wayfield had been destroyed¡­ Chapter VIII | Tears of Lead, Pall of Ashes I awake to a frightening sound. It¡¯s as if the skies have opened, dropping their contents upon us. The mighty force rocks the foundation of Grandma Bee¡¯s house, shattering all of the windows into tiny pieces. Nevertheless, I stand firm in the face of terror. I might have screamed a little, but that¡¯s beside the point. Where¡¯s Grandma Bee? Searching the dining room, I finally spot her when I check behind the table. She has tumbled face first, out of her chair, with her bum sticking straight up into the air. I can¡¯t help but laugh a little, even though I try to hold it in. I¡¯m sorry Grandma Bee, but it¡¯s too funny. (I don¡¯t see that evil man anywhere.) Oh well, first things first, I need to wake up Grandma Bee¡­ ¡°Hellooo! Grandma Bee, wake up! There¡¯s a dangerous man, and explosions¡­ And also, I¡¯m hungry¡­¡± Barring the third one, even though it¡¯s technically the most important to me at the moment, the other two things are urgent matters. Who knows, maybe the evil man caused those explosions. I wouldn¡¯t doubt it. Using some kind of evil magic, he trapped my brain in a sleeping prison. Speaking of which, that must be why Grandma Bee was sleeping at a time like that. I wonder if he¡¯s stronger than Grandma Bee¡­? No way, right¡­? ¡°Grandma Bee, Grandma Bee! Are you awake yet? Some mysterious stuff is going on.¡± With that, she finally begins to rustle and grunt, a sure sign she¡¯s going to wake up. I could have just let her sleep while I ate by myself, but I think that might be considered rude. Besides, that evil man could come back at any moment. ¡°W-what¡¯s the matter, dear? Oh my¡­ Why am I on the floor?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. One minute you were sitting on that chair, and the next minute you were on the floor. There was this weird man watching over you, all scary like, and just now there was this loud explosion outside that broke all the windows. What¡¯s going on here?¡± ¡°Explosion?! Wait¡­ A weird man¡­? Could that have been Horrence? Was this person a stern, intelligent-looking young man with a fine beard, by chance? ¡°No, he was more sickly-looking with evil eyes, and sharp talons, and pointy teeth¡­ I think¡­ Hmmm¡­¡± ¡°Oh ho ho ho! That¡¯s certainly Horrence, dear. Oh ho ho¡­¡± What? Grandma Bee knows that evil man? What business could the kindhearted Grandma Bee possibly have with someone like him? ¡°You see, dear, I found Horrence collapsed outside my house late last night, so I let him rest in the guest room. I must have dozed off while we were eating. And yes, he may seem a little gloomy, or cold, but he is not all that bad. He is a witch after all, and witches tend to live lonely lives. Not me though, since I have you to visit me, dear.¡± I see¡­ But I don¡¯t trust him! The way he was looming over Grandma Bee, and what he did to me... He¡¯s too suspicious! ¡°What about the explosion, Grandma Bee?¡± ¡°Yes, well¡­ Let¡¯s see here¡­¡± Carefully walking over the broken glass, Grandma Bee heads outside her house to check what the cause of the explosion was. I follow in her footsteps, only to be blown away at the scene. ¡®Gasp!¡¯ ¡°Heavens! What could have happened here?¡± A great rending, starting near Grandma Bee¡¯s house, carves deep into the forest. Trees are torn apart, toppled, and even trees smoldering at the trunks are strewn about, like some sort of deforested highway. What could have caused such destruction? The only answers seem to point to that evil Horrence person. He¡¯s the only other person that knows of Grandma Bee¡¯s house, so it can only be him that did this. How he managed it is beyond me though. ¡°Was this done by that man, Grandma Bee?¡± ¡°Hmmm¡­ It¡¯s possible¡­ I did sense his terrifying power. But he keeps it bottled up inside of him. It seems something must have made him lose control over it. What that was, I do not know.¡± Is he really that strong? Even Grandma Bee, who can fight the dreaded Beastkin barehanded, is afraid of his power. It must be terrifying. ¡°What should we do?¡± I¡¯m frightened¡­ Inside that man¡¯s eyes, was a vast, deep ocean of darkness. It felt like it was trying to engulf the entire world. If he suddenly lost control over it, what would become of us? Likely the Gods may do something about it, but would they be able to protect us all the way out here in Fort Wayfield? All they ever do is hide in their palaces. Would they be able to make it in time? ¡®Bwooooom!!¡± Far away in the distance, a thunderous roar booms. Creatures in the vicinity erupt from the woods, fleeing in terror. ¡°We must make way to the cellar! We should be safe there.¡± Grandma Bee hurries me along to the safe house located in the cellar. I¡¯ve only ever been there once when the house was attacked by a Beastkin, and I was told to hide in there until it was taken care of. The hatch is made of heavy wood, with thick iron fittings, so it¡¯s a very secure location. I¡¯m still uneasy though. Could wood and iron hold up to the force that created such a loud sound? The explosion may have sounded far away, but that doesn¡¯t make me feel any better. Luckily, Grandma Bee lets me bring my plate of food with me, so I feel a little better¡­ The ground occasionally rumbles, becoming louder, and louder, causing dust to sprinkle from the ceiling and supports. They must be coming closer, and closer. Grandma Bee and I huddle together. She¡¯s doing her best to protect me, which makes me feel warm inside, despite the circumstances. Eventually, the explosions come to an end, but still, we hide in the cellar. If we were to journey from the cellar to take a look, there¡¯s a chance we would get caught up in another explosion. Just because they have stopped for now, doesn¡¯t mean that they will not begin again. Why is he even doing these things? What is he trying to accomplish? He keeps moving while causing destruction, so is he looking for anything in particular? Or does he just want to destroy everything he comes across? I wouldn¡¯t put it past him, no matter what Grandma Bee says about him. Come to think of it, I wonder¡­ What caused him to lose control of his power in the first place? He seemed normal when we met in the house, so it must have happened afterward. Maybe he met a Beastkin or something? Somehow, I think he deserved it. What with how he treated me back then. I only asked him what happened to Grandma Bee, then he just used that strange magic on me and I passed out. How rude! ¡®Crunch¡¯ Whilst thinking of how I would return the favor to that mean man, the silence was suddenly broken by the sound of glass crunching underfoot¡­ The man has returned here! My breath catches in my chest. Why did he have to come back here?! Slowly, the crunching becomes closer, until it is directly above the hatch. Grandma Bee begins to squeeze harder, increasing her grip on my shoulders. Is Grandma Bee afraid? The thought causes me to tightly close my eyes, as I just kneel there, shuddering in the darkness. And then, the terrible evil made itself known¡­ ¡®¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö!!¡¯ A growl, ferocious and spine-tingling, even worse than the most frightening of Beastkin, shakes the ceiling, as the hatch is ripped clean off its hinges, along with a large portion of the floorboards. The new most terrifying moment of my entire life. So much so that I¡¯m not even ashamed to admit that I was unable to hold my bladder. What drops down and stands before us can no longer be compared to the man from before. A monster in the general shape of a human, with bulging veins and darkened skin covering overgrown, rippling muscles. Growing from its temple is a great, black horn that curls behind its head and the entire body is engulfed in a haze like you see above a roaring fire. It¡¯s truly a monstrous appearance, that gives rise to crippling fear. I can no longer think. My mind has been stressed past its limits, so it turns off to protect itself. I simply slump onto my rear, completely paralyzed by the overwhelming pressure. ¡°Stay down, dear! This could get messy.¡± Unlike me, Grandma Bee rushes forwards, as she begins to activate her magic trait. Like a flash, she¡¯s upon the beast, and propelled by the fiercest winds, she lands a heavy blow upon its right cheek. I have a bad feeling¡­ ¡®Thwump!¡¯ The booming thud from the strike, echoes in the confines of the cellar¡¯s walls, as wind rips around the room like a tornado. The beast doesn¡¯t even budge an inch from the attack. In fact, it looks as if the one most affected by the punch is Grandma Bee. When her fist enters the haze surrounding the beast, it bursts into flames. Strangely, the flames give off no light, which makes them seem black in color, though still painful-looking to touch. Grandma Bee quickly uses her [Wind Magic] to extinguish them, unfortunately, with no results. The wind seemingly passes right through them, causing no visible effects, so with quick judgment, Grandma Bee immediately creates a wind blade that severs her right arm just above the wrist. Luckily, the hand falls to the ground, taking the black fire along with it. Applying a makeshift tourniquet upon the severed arm, made of a piece of torn cloth, she manages to stop her blood from escaping for now. This alone is unlikely to solve the problem. No doubt, she¡¯ll have to make it to town to find one of the Guild¡¯s surgeons, but that will have to wait. It¡¯s apparent that physical attacks are of little use, so instead, she applies a crushing amount of air pressure on top of the beast, leaving enough time for her to take me and escape. The problem is, being paralyzed with fear, my limbs have given out, while Grandma Bee is also missing a hand. ¡°Are you okay, dear? We have to escape for now. Can you stand?¡± ¡°Y-your hand¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine!¡± I take her only remaining hand and try to stand, but just can¡¯t manage to move my legs. Even my hands are too weak to keep a firm grip. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°Alright, dear. Hold on.¡± With that, she bends down, reaching her left arm around my back, about to lift me up, when suddenly she stops¡­ At first, I¡¯m unable to understand the scene going on before me. A red mist sprays across the cellar like a fountain, illuminated by the light streaming from the hole in the ceiling. I can¡¯t help but think how pretty it looks¡­ That single moment¡­ When Grandma Bee¡¯s blood spewed from the huge gouge in her neck, seemed to last for an eternity, like time had broken down and was grinding to a halt. How long did I sit there at that point in time before I was finally able to come to terms with what had happened, allowing the frozen time to finally move forwards again? I do not know¡­ As I watch the beast toss Grandma Bee¡¯s body to the side, I reach out to touch her outstretched fingers, only for her body to be engulfed by those malevolent, black flames. Everything that those flames touch ceases to exist, not even leaving ashes behind. In a matter of seconds, Grandma Bee¡¯s entire existence is transformed into nothing more than a memory¡­ I can¡¯t take it! Why must we suffer this way? Why must Grandma Bee¡­ ¡°What have you done!? You monster! I¡¯ll kill you!!¡± Looking up at that evil beast in anger, I scream at him from the depths of my heart, hoping to blow away this entire nightmare. Alas, I find no relief. Turning its attention to me, the monster reaches down and pins my right hand to the ground firmly. No matter what I try, I¡¯m unable to escape its grasp. It feels like my hand is bolted to the floor. What can I do¡­? What does it even matter anymore? Grandma Bee is gone, so I no longer have a place in this world. Even should I somehow make it through this, that fact will never change. What point is there in living anymore¡­? ¡°Just kill me already¡­¡± It¡¯s better to just end it now than to continue living in this messed up world. Even if it¡¯s at the hands of this monster, at least it will be fast¡­ ¡®¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡­¡¯ This time, although the growl once again rumbles terrifyingly, the intensity somehow sounds subdued. Come to think of it, I¡¯m touching this monster, without catching on fire¡­ What¡¯s going on? It¡¯s just looking at me¡­ ¡°What are you planning on doing to me, you monster!?¡± Having the monster leaning over me like this is making me feel sick. The pure hatred bubbling in my stomach is only matched by the pangs of sorrow and regret tearing my heart apart. The monster¡¯s eyes are devoid of light, just pitch black orbs that seem to swallow everything. As I glare at them, searching their depths for answers, crimson blood begins to pool around the sockets, dripping down onto my face. The monster begins to cry tears of blood. (Why is this monster crying? I just don¡¯t understand what¡¯s going on anymore!) As the tears continue to leak from its eyes, the monster leans closer to my face, eventually placing its mouth upon my forehead. Its skin is hot and stings to the touch, and strangely, the smell of rain surrounds its body. Is it planning on eating me now¡­? Fine then, let it come. I hope you choke on me¡­ Closing my eyes, I start to tense up in anticipation of the first bite, but the pain never comes, instead, a warm sensation floats upon my lips. W¡­ What¡­? What¡¯s this bastard trying to accomplish!? To force itself on me after everything it¡¯s done to us!? You¡¯ve gotta be kidding me!! ¡°Get off me!!¡± Struggling wildly, I attempt to free myself from its hold, only to be met with its unbreakably strong grip. I am at the complete mercy of this damned beast. What have I ever done to deserve this disgrace? Contrary to its oppressive nature, the monster, for some reason, handles me very gently as it removes my clothes and grazes my skin with its fingertips, causing the shamefulness to only grow and grow. It feels as if it is trying to slowly peel back the layers of my heart, so it can totally devour my being from within. It¡¯s just playing with its food. But¡­ It¡¯s working¡­ Despite my utmost efforts to banish any sensations from my mind, they persist. Burning themselves into my brain, bombarding my sensors with an overloading amount of stimulation. Even when I think about how this monster emotionlessly murdered Grandma Bee right in front of me, I still can¡¯t drown out the machinations being evoked upon my body¡¯s defenses. It¡¯s infuriating that I can¡¯t control my own body. For years I¡¯ve lived on the street, pushing my mind and body to their limits just to stay alive. But now I¡¯m helpless, unable to swim against the tides I am awash in¡­ (Even in the most extreme scenarios, we cannot help but wallow in our filthy desires. I¡¯ve seen it all before. Humans are trash¡­) The greed of the wealthy miser who walks right by a beggar, without even thinking twice. The lust of the disgusting merchant, who despite having a wife and children, still spends his time off making love to a prostitute. This world is full of garbage, and in the end, I am no different. My shameful state is perfect proof of the inhumanity of the human race. My body is hot, and my mind flashes bright, brought about by the heights of pleasure I am experiencing. Like waves, my consciousness and my heart erode away, until finally, I pass out. ------------ As I groggily rise from my slumber, the first thing I notice is the chill I feel down my back. I am mostly nude, lying on the cold ground in what looks like some sort of cellar. A little light is shining in from a hole in the roof, but apart from that, everything is dark. Somehow, it is kind of peaceful, you know? As my eyes adjust to the dark room, I begin to recognize a few troubling things, mainly that I am not alone in this darkness. Like me, there is some other nude person lying next to me. A petite body, like that of a child. Suddenly remembering my dream, I turn the body onto its back. What I was hoping for, I do not know. Nonetheless, I am disappointed with what I find. Although this child has faint similarities to my sister, her hair is white like snow. The complete opposite of my sister¡¯s glossy black hair. ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ Oh well¡­ Placing my hand over her mouth and nose, I check for breathing. Since she seems fine, I decide to head above ground to figure out where I have ended up. As I tread through the dim room towards the light, my foot brushes against a metallic object, so I reach over to pick it up. ¡®Tch¡¯ (So that is how it is¡­) It is a familiar thing, although slightly different. Upon closer inspection, the whole scene could be said to be similar to that of my dream. The kitchen knife, along with the fact that I appear to be coated with a thick layer of blood. I can easily understand as to how I ended up this way. Which means¡­ Is this child supposed to be that urchin brat? I do not see the witch around, but the ground beneath my feet is still warm to the touch. The blood had to come from somewhere¡­ This child¡­ The way her hair turned white like that is like some sort of manga character. I am pretty sure that rapid hair discoloration due to stress is scientifically impossible. What a strange power I have. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.After carrying the urchin child upstairs with me, I place her body in the guest bed, taking care not to wake her up. The house is in shambles, with glass shards from the windows scattered all over the place. A pile of mangled timber, which must have come from this giant hole, occupies the center of the room. Although the damage to the house might have been substantial, the outside of the house is far worse off. To put it simply, it is apocalyptic. Large tracts of forest have seemingly vanished, leaving craters in their place. Massive fires rage amidst great plumes of black smoke. There is no doubt about it¡­ This is my power¡­ (How did this happen? As far as I know, I was asleep. None of this should have been possible¡­ Unless¡­) [Falling Owl]¡­ Is this a result of some wires getting crossed somewhere while I was asleep? Perhaps, if I should begin dreaming whilst under his influence... The conscious brain and the dreaming brain are not that different, apart from the body becoming paralyzed. While still a theory, it is likely that [Falling Owl] has translated anything I did in the dream, into real life. Let me see¡­ First thing I did in the dream was haphazardly run around that accursed, rain-filled place, trying to find a way out. In my supercharged form, I likely caused plenty of destruction by just wandering around. When I was unable to find an exit, I tried using [Corruption] in an attempt to move faster. Who knows what damage I caused from doing that¡­ Then, I¡­ I guess that was when I found my way back here. From the scene I saw downstairs, [Falling Owl] likely reenacted every single thing that went on in my dream. I suppose I should feel guilty, or something¡­ ¡°This is that day all over again, huh¡­?¡± They have no connection to me in the slightest, yet they have still managed to get pulled into the madness of the [Black Corona]. I even tried protecting this town, by getting as far away as I could¡­ I really am a natural disaster. ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ I wonder if my disguise is finished yet? I had no time to check on it this morning, so I guess I will do that now. There is no use standing around here. It is not like I can bring back the dead, though that would be useful. The forest is mostly leveled, so I have little trouble finding my way back to town. As I come nearer and nearer, I realize the gravity of what I have done¡­ The town of Fort Wayfield has been destroyed. ¡°Damn! My fucking suit¡­ Is not what I should be worried about in this situation, I suppose¡­¡± What a severely unpleasant turn of events. While the fact that thousands upon thousands of people being unduly massacred is unjust, in the end, it can simply be chalked up to an unfortunate accident. The real problem is that I am the one who has caused this. The fact that this entire area has been violently ravaged by my ability is an irrefutable fact. It is not like I can erase the evidence when the evidence is a whole town, its citizens, and a vast portion of the forest. ¡°Magic sure would be useful right about now¡­¡± Resurrection magic, or time magic. Honestly, anything other than blow-stuff-up magic. I fear, more research into my ability¡¯s properties is necessary. It is even possible that I am simply using it incorrectly. Anyways, if by chance someone is capable of using some sort of detection technique to discover the identity of the person who has caused this devastation, it will lead them right to me. Is this not the exact reason I needed my disguise in the first place? What good is blowing it up going to accomplish? Damnit [Falling Owl], do not fucking mess with me! I guess I should check, just in case. First, I will need to find my horse though. Hopefully, my camp survived the blow. I would not want anything bad to have happened to Tomorrow since she did cost a fortune. Tracing what once was the forest¡¯s edge, I find my camp in relatively good condition. A human-sized, rectangular stone, part of the town¡¯s walls, has flown all the way here. It has indented itself deep into the ground, only meters from my stage-coach. Luckily, no damage has befallen my assets. Tomorrow is nonchalantly standing there as if nothing has even happened. It is kind of endearing, if not a little surreal. I guess it is a good thing she is so level-headed about the whole thing. Is not this horse¡¯s character somehow different than before? I seem to remember her being a bit more¡­ Unruly. Hmmm¡­ Maybe she was just testing me? Unless I accidentally put too much force into it when I disciplined her¡­ I will just go with that. Thankfully, she still knows how to pull the coach, so at least she is not broken. Now, if I do happen to find any signs of my outfit, I would say I might just be able to pull this whole thing off. Either way, I am still heading for Graves. Staying at the scene of the crime for too long is tantamount to turning myself over to the enemy. Closer to the town¡¯s limits, it is that much easier to see how badly it has been damaged. A huge black cloud of smoke looms in the air above the entire area, as ash rains down from the sky, covering everything in a blanket. So much so, that we have to cover our mouths and noses to breath. The streets are scorched black, and what is left of the buildings, mostly the foundations, are still smoldering like hot coals. This town is only a charred skeleton of what it used to be, and I cannot even find the remains of the townspeople. It is frustrating. I can barely see through the smog, so if I had not memorized the layout of the town, I would have never been able to find anything in this maze of a place. I stay near the middle of the street, as I make my way to the location where the clothier¡¯s shop used to be. The ruins on either side of us are too hot for Tomorrow to get close to. Every now and then I pass by a heap of metal, which I assume is the only thing remaining from a vehicle, having been exposed to extreme temperatures. I would try to salvage some parts, but the metal is glowing hot in some parts. Touching it as it is now would be needlessly reckless. Though I may not be in danger of sustaining lasting damage, I do not want to linger in this place. I should not forget my cautiousness in light of my immortality. Carelessness will only bring me even more misfortune. Finally, I arrive at the clothier¡¯s grave. It is quite the same as I had imagined it; A pile of embers, amidst crumbling rubble. I hope this fellow has a safe, or a cellar, or something. I cannot imagine any type of clothing could have survived this catastrophe. Hopping down off of the coach, I carefully walk through the glowing coals, surveying the area in an attempt to find anything substantial. It is far hotter than even the hottest sauna, and I feel my skin reddening. I am slowly cooking in this blistering temperature. Breathing is difficult, to say the least, even while cupping my hand over my mouth. The hot air flows into my lungs, causing a burning sensation. This could possibly be fatal to a normal human, but to me, it is more like an uncomfortable endurance test. It is strange how disengaging it can be to lose track of the line that signifies your mortality. More and more, I find myself resorting to quantifying the boundary with a mathematical equation. This is based on my previous world¡¯s mortality though, so I am sure it will require tweaks to remain sound. ¡°That is where the counter was, and that pile was the staircase. Then this was the hallway, and this was the kitchen. So, if I am not mistaken¡­ Got it!¡± Found it! I have located the cellar hatch. It is scorched quite badly, but underneath, the belly of the beast has been preserved quite beautifully. It is kind of astonishing how well this cellar has held up. Greed is amazing. The darkness illuminates, as I climb down the ladder along with the lantern from the stage-coach. I had lost this particular lantern back at the house in the forest, thanks to a certain someone. Of course, it was just lying next to where I had fallen. Since I had been predisposed, I have only been able to retrieve it right before I came here. It provides more than enough light to see in this cellar, though I am worried about the open flame. Oh well, as long as I am careful when I use it around my assets, it should be okay. I am far less flammable than they are. I need to protect what I currently have. After all, there is no longer any place to buy supplies in Fort Wayfield. With the darkness put at bay, I begin my search of the cellar. Along both sides of the room, there are shelves built into the walls, not unlike a catacomb. Instead of bodies, the shelves are lined with an outrageous supply of cloth, leathers, strings, and the like. Luckily, I do not have to sort through all this clutter, as there is a sturdy safe in the room¡¯s corner. I did command the clothier to keep it in the most secure location he could think of, so it should be inside this safe. Now I just have to open it. That should not be a problem¡­ ¡®Scrrreeech!¡¯ Ew¡­ The grating sound that the metal door makes as I rip it from its hinges causes a shiver down my back, although that might just have been the corrupted power I have juiced my arm with. Endlessly, I am baffled by how much strength I gain while using [Corruption]. This door peeled off like a wet piece of tape. Is that not troubling? What would that idiot have done if my outfit happened to fall into the wrong hands? The people of this world need to be enlightened on the necessity of security. That foolish family from before had allowed a random stranger into their vehicle. Not to mention what happened to the old witch who fatally gave assistance to an anomalous passerby. Both times I was way too suspicious, yet they still fell for my ruse. ¡°Wait¡­ Am I the villain of this story¡­? Hmmm¡­ I do not feel like the villain, though the things I have done all seem kind of villainous. Anyway, it is the heart that counts, so¡­ Er¡­ Huh¡­ I guess I am the villain? Oh well, that term is relative to begin with, so let us leave it aside. How about antihero? Hmmmm¡­ Somehow, it sounds like I need a motorcycle or something¡­¡± ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ Forget it. I am me, in all of my maverick. Should I be labeled as the protagonist, antagonist, or whatever, I will not falter from my goals. The world is inconsequential. ¡°Lucky!¡± I have been skeptical considering the overall condition of this town but had to at least give it a shot. Fortunately, the reward for my studiousness has finally come. The outfit is all here. Not only that, it is completed as well. It is brilliant! And it rather should be, since that fellow literally worked himself to death for it. He shall be fondly remembered as the man who created the demon king. Although, that title is a pretty overused gimmick, so I will go with something fresher. [Falling Owl]? It has a nice ring to it¡­ What is that you say¡­? I already used that title? Hmmm¡­ That is true. However, did you know¡­? Gas is expensive, so you should always carpool. It is more likely they will refer to me as ¡°The Owl¡±, or ¡°Dark Owl¡±, or something else anyway. I would prefer that they would keep it canon though. For that matter, how am I supposed to let them know this whole mess was [Falling Owl]? A calling card, I guess¡­ Of course. For an owl that looks like a raven, there is only one calling card that can be considered appropriate¡­ ------------ It is nearing 4:00 PM and the sky is a dismal shade of grey. Before I leave this place and make my way towards the town of Graves, I have decided to pay one last visit to the witch¡¯s house. There are a few items there I could really use, and since she no longer needs them, I figured I would help myself. Making it there on an old-fashioned stage-coach was brutal. Even with most of the forest cleared, there was still a sea of roots to worry about. While Tomorrow is a crazily strong beast and pulled the coach right over them no problem, the whole ride was unpleasant for the passenger. The house is in silence save for my rummaging, and I would like it to stay that way. The urchin child is still unconscious in the guest room. Since she was shivering, I assume she was having some kind of nightmare. I would still prefer she stay asleep, if at all possible. Her body is visibly uninjured, so it is more likely from the shock that she passed out. Whether a child like her could live by herself in these woods, I am doubtful, but I just cannot afford to get involved with her. It is strategically impractical. Besides, I am not so good around her, or so I have discovered. The gear I am planning to take with me is pretty commonplace stuff; Pots, pans, silverware, tools, bedding, food, spices, basically, things I was planning on accumulating over time. Since I can get it all in one place for free, I might as well take it. ¡°There we go¡­¡± I have taken mostly anything I thought would be useful and packed them into the coach, only leaving a few bits and pieces. Honestly, I do not think I have enough room for everything, so I will leave the rest behind. Urchin child will have to make due with whatever is left. My apologies¡­ Suddenly, I feel a cold chill near my heart, like a dull pinching sensation¡­ Is this some kind of remorse¡­? Hmmm¡­ ¡°What?!¡± Just as I am wondering what is happening with my body, a startled voice squeaks from behind me, causing me to twist around in an attack stance. ¡®Guha¡¯ Blood spews from my mouth as I turn, covering my attacker, the urchin child, with specks of red fluid. I finally realize what the pinch from earlier is¡­ a knife. Ungh¡­ Because I have been so busy packing up silverware and other things into a blanket, I had not even noticed the urchin child sneak up on me with one of the knives. I suppose she wants revenge or something¡­ Oh yeah. She knew that witch, did she not? ¡°Why aren¡¯t you dead?! I stabbed you directly in the heart! What is wrong with you?!¡± Eh? This child is kind of messed up, right? Speaking about stabbing my heart, and such. How did a child like her learn something so scary to begin with? Although, I am not one to talk¡­ Damn¡­ Why did she have to come out now of all times? This is literally my last load, then I would have been out of here. This brat is some kind of curse or something, I swear¡­ ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ Turning back to my work, I continue tying the blanket into a ball, completely ignoring the urchin girl, and the knife sticking out of my back. Maybe if I ignore her enough she will go away? Sounds unlikely, but I should try. After securing the makeshift bag of odds and ends, I lift it onto my shoulder, then start heading towards the coach. I hope all this stuff fits¡­ Not being discouraged in the least by my strategy, she runs to my back, plucks the knife from my heart, and proceeds to stab it in once more, repeating this over and over again. She sure has guts, huh¡­? From what I am guessing must have happened to her and that witch, she must have seen what happens when I use my power. How terrifying that power must have been. Still, she continues her attempt to exact vengeance upon me. By now she should know it is useless. I mean, the wound literally heals as soon as you remove the knife. It is impossible, you know¡­ ¡°Just give up¡­¡± ¡°Never!! I¡¯ll never forgive you!! Ever!! Die!! Die!! DIE!!!¡± (I see¡­ Then you are prepared for the repercussions¡­) Turning to look upon this miniature assassin¡¯s helpless struggle, I remember my sister¡¯s valiant efforts to protect my mother. This is annoying¡­ Then, when our eyes meet, I draw upon that wretched power. The girl is frozen like a statue, discontinuing her assault. ¡°Sleep!¡± ¡°...!?¡± Grabbing her crumpling form with my left arm, I open the coach door with my foot and toss the bag of stuff inside with my right arm. I then fling the urchin child onto the driver¡¯s seat and take my place next to her. I am troubled¡­ This whole thing is troubling¡­ So troubling¡­ ¡°Maybe I should leave her behind¡­ What do you think Tomorrow?¡± ¡®Neigh!¡¯ She shook her head, huh¡­ Annoying horse¡­ ¡°Fine¡­ But do not come complaining to me later when your food rations are cut since there is an extra mouth to feed.¡± ¡®Neigh¡­¡¯ ¡°Ho¡­? Admirable¡­ Alright, supper is compliments of Tomorrow¡¯s bleddel supply! Maybe a soup would be good. I have a pot now, so I think I can manage something like that.¡± ¡®Snort¡­¡¯ Tomorrow spitefully turns her head to the side, firmly planting her hoof into the ground, as if in resolute fearlessness. However, it is quite obvious the ploy has had an effect on her. Heh¡­ ¡°What was that¡­? You would not mind me taking a full week¡¯s worth of bleddels to help out your new friend? How generous of you!¡± ¡®Neigh, Neigh!¡¯ Finally giving in, Tomorrow furiously shakes her head, changing her mind about bringing the child along¡­ ¡°Eh?! You would even give up bleddels altogether, just so your new friend can be as comfortable as possible?! What a magnanimous horse you are, Tomorrow! I am so touched!¡± ¡®Neeeeeigh!!¡¯ Letting out a tragic wail, Tomorrow shakes her whole body side to side exaggeratedly. Fear is clearly displayed in her eyes due to my mercilessness. ¡°Well, let us be on our way. I do not want to be around this town when the Guild¡¯s cronies show up, so we should gain a few hours on them while we can¡­ There is no telling what kind of annoying fellows they will send at us.¡± ¡®Staaare¡­¡¯ Tomorrow simply looks at me pleadingly, still worried about the prank I was pulling before. ¡°Go, go! I was not joking about the guild coming for us, you know. Do you want me to make you into glue, or something? Get a move on!¡± With that she roared into action, carrying the coach like a bullet and bouncing over the roots with no regards for the passengers. Is this flimsy coach going to hold up? I will have to upgrade to something better once we make it to Graves. That is if we do not get caught by the Guild before then. Somehow, I am already feeling melancholic about this journey¡­ Chapter IX | Chains of Vengeance, Glimmer of Hope From the very beginning, I have never once been able to properly interact with other human beings. Of course, I could mimic the faces they would make and the emotions they might express, but it was never the truth. It was acting, deceit, an illusion that I practiced over and over again just so that I could make her more comfortable. It was all for the benefit of my sister. After that tragic day, with no need for that charade any longer, I reverted back to my original self. Distant, cold, mechanical¡­ Emotionless¡­ It was not an immediate change, but more of a gradual shift. I had fewer chances to use such things, so I pushed them aside, filing away the knowledge into the deepest recesses of my brain. After a while, without practice, they began to dull. Finally, what I am left with is my current inept state. Never was it a problem until I came out of my sanctuary, into this forsaken world. I am finding it harder and harder to manage simple tasks, all due to the constant need for human interaction. I am at a metaphorical crossroads, where I can either regain my lost abilities or I can continue to flounder about in vain. Obviously, I can only choose the first option if I think about it strategically. It is never that easy though¡­ ¡°How dare you, you bastard! Take me back to Fort Wayfield, now! What is wrong with you, abducting me? Are you not satisfied, even after all the horrible things you did to me, to Grandma Bee¡­ S-she saved you¡­ How could you!? Take me home!¡± I have set up a temporary camp on a lightly traveled road that leads to Graves. Since darkness is around the corner, it is best for Tomorrow to get some sleep. Otherwise, I would have kept going. The urchin brat has finally woken up. Thus, when she noticed what was going on, she started a ruckus. Nothing unusual. Honestly, I would have preferred for her to sleep for the whole rest of the trip, but that was unlikely to happen¡­ ¡°No¡­¡± First of all, I am not going back there ever again. The guild is likely crawling all over that place looking for me. I am not so facile that I would graciously fall into the hands of the enemy when there is no foreseeable benefit in it for me¡­ Besides, I blew it up, you know¡­ However¡­ As annoying as it is, I have kind of fucked up her entire life so the least I can do is drop her off at Graves when I get there. If only to return the favor to that witch. ¡°What!? What do you mean no!?¡± ¡°Just, no¡­¡± ¡°Aaargh!! I¡¯ve had it! I knew you were an evil man, but nooo, Grandma Bee insisted you were just a little cold, and look how that turned out! You killed her! You killed her, and you don¡¯t even care! You¡¯re horrible! I hate you! I hate you!! I haaaate you!! Just die already, you bastard!!¡± Cold, huh¡­? That is true¡­ That sounds just like something she might say, that old witch. Well, no matter what she thinks, logically, eye for an eye is an unproductive measure. No matter who was to die, whether it be me, my family, herself, or everyone in the entire world, none of it is going to make her feel any better. That witch is dead, and I cannot change that fact, even if I wanted to. I wonder how she feels right now? I know that she is feeling resentment, sadness, and fear, but I am simply unable to know what those sorts of things truly feel like. From what I have read, sadness is a very negative emotion, that hurts you near your heart. It registers in the brain in around the same place as physical pain, so would it just feel like being stabbed in the heart? Fear is the body¡¯s reaction to perceived danger, involving the fight or flight response. I can partially imitate this response through a breathing technique that activates the sympathetic nervous system. This is much like the one I use to activate the parasympathetic nervous system during meditation. However, my body does not produce this response naturally. Then there is resentment or anger, a blood pumping emotion that is triggered by situations, not unlike the one this child has gone through. Increased blood pressure and a burst of energy; It sounds similar to when I use [Corrupting]. Does that mean that whilst using it I am angry? I do not understand¡­ I do know it does not make me wish harm on others though. Even with scientific knowledge of what these things are and plenty of examples in the form of books, manga, anime, and real life, I am still unable to fully understand what this child is feeling. Hence, I cannot respond appropriately. Actually, this is the perfect chance to practice my speech and emoting. The hatred that she feels for me right now, while being a negative emotion, is still an integral part of human nature. I can use this opportunity to regain my ability to express hatred. Teach me well, Sensei. ¡°Shut up, brat.¡± ¡°What did you say!? You have no right to speak to me like that, you evil bastard! Besides, I¡¯m already 12 years old; I¡¯m not a brat!¡± ¡­ ¡°Eat your supper, brat.¡± The can of stew I have opened for supper is sitting next to the campfire keeping warm. It is not very different from the stew on Earth, although it is blander. But overall, it is much better than having to catch food myself. ¡°No way! I don¡¯t want to eat anything you made, it¡¯s likely poisoned anyways!¡± Hmmm, that is a good mindset you have, brat. However, I have not the resources to waste something as useful as poison on a brat like you. If I had really wanted to kill you, you would have been dead already. ¡°I¡¯m eating it¡­¡± ¡°So? You could¡¯ve poisoned it after you served your portion. Besides, it¡¯s not like you¡¯d get poisoned anyways, you monster!¡± ¡°¡­¡± I am tiring of this. If she does not eat, she is just going to become even more annoying. That said, it is time for a pop quiz. I pretty much have this whole anger thing figured out, so let me put it to the test. ¡°Eat it, now!¡± ¡°I said no! Shut up already, bastard!¡± ¡°¡­¡± Hmmm¡­ Perhaps the forcefulness was lacking? In that case¡­ ¡°That does it¡­¡± ¡°Wh...? Hey, mng!?¡± Lifting the brat up by the waist under my left arm, I grab a spoonful of warm stew out of the pot and forcefully jam it into her mouth. As hard as she flails in opposition, while not particularly strong for my age, she is unable to overthrow me. The gap between our ages is just that great. After the food is in her mouth, I hold her mouth closed and pinch her nose. She struggles momentarily against my tyranny, but she finally swallows it in bitter indignance. As I release her, she coughs a few times exaggeratedly, but since it really had no poison in it, everything is just her imagination. Good. That went well. For my first outburst of anger after quite a while, I believe I did objectively well. Although, I think I need to work on the whole ¡°That does it!¡± thing. Somehow, it sounded a little strange. ¡®Cough, cough!¡¯ ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing, you bastard! Ugh! I¡¯m poisoned! Urk¡­ Ummm¡­ Huh? I¡¯m not poisoned¡­? How¡¯s this possible?¡± Whoa¡­ If you act that astonished, you will hurt my feelings¡­ Heh¡­ ¡°You, what¡¯s the meaning of this? Why isn¡¯t this poisoned? Is this some kind of trap? Maybe it¡¯s a slow acting poison? Argh! I¡¯m poisoned!¡± ¡°Hurry up and eat, brat. I want to clean the dishes.¡± ¡°Argh! Stop calling me that! I¡¯m not a brat, I¡¯m a lady!¡± ¡°Whatever you say¡­¡± Just hurry it up already. I have other, more important things I could be doing instead of waiting for you¡­ ¡°Nu! I heard that! Fine, I¡¯ll eat your stupid food, but don¡¯t think this makes up for what you did!¡± I should hope not. Is the price of human life as cheap as a can of stew? No¡­ In fact, you should hate me; It is your privilege as the downtrodden to feel animosity towards your oppressor. Whether your hatred makes a difference is debatable. But as long as you continue to feel it, I will continue to feed off of it, until I have once again regained my cloak of emotions; Or at least until I reach Graves. Then she is going straight back to her urchin life. Speaking of which, how did this girl meet that witch in the first place? Kind of suspicious. Do not tell me it is something like ¡°I was lost in the woods and she lent me a helping hand¡­¡±, or ¡°I was being attacked by a beastkin and she helped me escape¡­¡±, or something¡­ ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ I miss manga, anime, and light novels¡­ Oh well¡­ Right now I have a few things that require work, apart from my conversation skills, that is. My [Raven¡¯s Garb], which is what I have decided to name the outfit of my dark persona, needs a few finishing touches before it can be of any use. With all the materials I have inherited from the clothier¡¯s cellar, I might as well learn to sew a few things. I currently have only a vague knowledge of sewing, from things I have read, or watched. It should be easy to get the hang of it though, thanks to my recently unlocked learning potential. As I would rather not mess up my outfit while practicing, instead, I shall sew myself a shirt. Why do I need a shirt, you ask? Well, it just so happens that I find myself presently without one. It may not bother me personally, but if I were to meet anyone right now, I would stand out way more than I already do. I may also make some clothing for the urchin child as well¡­ It would not even make a dent in the vast supplies I currently have; There is just that much. The only clothes she has is the dress she was wearing at the witch¡¯s house, so I doubt she will mind if I experiment on her for a while. From my knowledge, the majority of females love clothing. Yes, undoubtedly so. ¡°Brat, lend me your dress.¡± ¡°NOOO!! Stay away! Don¡¯t touch me with your filthy pervert hands! Die, pervert!! Pervert General! Pervert Overlord!!¡± I see¡­ If I do not say what I am thinking out loud, my intentions can be easily misconstrued. How bothersome¡­ ¡°Are you finished?¡± ¡°No! Die, die die! Pervert, Super pervert, Ultra perveeeert!!¡± Throwing her spoon directly at my face and running away, she hides behind the coach. Hah¡­ Considering what must have happened to her, this is probably the correct response, but it is still kind of annoying. Explaining this is too much of a pain, should I just give up? Hmmm¡­ But if I do not use her dress, the only references I have on me are my pants, which are scorched, and shredded; Barely of any use. I guess it really has to be that dress¡­ If it is because of embarrassment, I can just give her something to wrap around herself in the meantime, but if it is because she does not want me to touch her or anything belonging to her, then there is not much I can do. I guess it can wait¡­ For now, I should clean these dishes. I chose this spot to set up camp deliberately since I noticed a stream through the trees. I have not washed myself since staying at that idiot family¡¯s manor, so I would like to use this chance to clean the blood, ash, and dirt from my body. That urchin child... Frankly, she smells awful, to the point where it gives me a migraine. Normally, I would throw her in the water and scrub her until she is so clean you could see your own reflection on her forehead, but¡­ The problem is, I would rather not have to deal with the whole screaming fit she will pull. I found four pieces of crude soap while I was packing things at the witch¡¯s house, the kind made of tallow. The only thing I can think of is to give her a piece of it and tell her to wash herself in the stream. Whether she comes out to my specifications, I am rather dubious of, but anything is better than it is now. The sun will very soon set, so I should wash these dishes while I can still see, then myself, then give the order for this child to go wash herself. After everything and everyone, is nice and tidy, I will send her to bed and begin my nightly rituals. I feel like a shepherd tending to a flock of ill-mannered sheep¡­ ¡°Oh well, daylight is fading¡­ Dishes.¡± The stream is relatively close to the camp. However, there is a stand of trees in front, blocking the view. While this may pose a problem for thievery, from both outside sources and inside, I do not think they will get too far on a horse as ornery as Tomorrow is. Besides, I made it very clear who her owner is, so disobedience is unlikely. Like you might expect, the peaceful ambiance surrounding the stream is a pleasant sight, especially after such an eventful day. Sitting by the edge of the water, I am reminded of the earliest days of my journey here in Gearia. Back then, I was still settling into my newly unmedicated state, so I was mostly ignoring everything around me. Now that I have gotten used to the morbid apparitions that haunt this landscape, I can spare the occasional frolic through the scenic countryside. I have adapted to the horror genre, though it is still a fucking bother. Taking a deep breath whilst washing the dishes, I tightly close my eyes, before opening them wide again in an attempt to flush out the demons. If this monstrosity of a world could be dispelled by such a thing, I would be most pleased. Unfortunately, life is fraught with disappointments, and the black setting sun still looms over the grotesque display before me. Well, it was worth a shot¡­ Having finished cleaning both the dishes and myself, I return to the camp, only to find that the urchin child has amassed various weapons on her person. All of them are tools and equipment taken from my supply. It looks as if she is preparing to fight quite the battle-worthy opponent, though none of the things she has chosen will be of much help in a fight. Whatever, I could not care less. As long as she does not break or lose anything, there is no harm. Carrying around all those sharp objects is likely to end badly though, so maybe it would be better if I confiscated them¡­ Nah¡­ ¡°Oi, brat, take this¡­¡± ¡°Wah!?¡± It appears she had been unaware that I returned since she is startled when I speak. Clanging noises resound, as she drops a few of the artifacts out of surprise. Looking down at the mess she has made, she begins collecting the items again in a flurry. She is not the brightest, is she? ¡°Go clean yourself¡­¡± It takes her a second to piece together what I say, all the while she simply stares at me in confusion. ¡°Soap¡­? Oh, you meant wash off in the stream¡­ Wait, why should I listen to you!?¡± ¡°Smells¡­ Gross¡­¡± ¡°Uu! W-who cares!? That¡¯s none of your business!¡± Hah¡­ This is what I was talking about. Living on the street tends to cloud one¡¯s perception of what is hygienically tolerable. Bacteria and viruses are not going to sit around, waiting until you are finished with your business before they make their move, you know. I may not become fatally ill from something like that, but that does not mean it will have no effect on me. Whether you care about becoming sick or not, is irrelevant; What bothers me is that you will spread it to me, not to mention how you smell. Now, how should I get my point across¡­? Ah, I forgot! If the target does not feel like it, I just have to give her a little pep talk¡­ ¡°Heeey¡­ I know that look! Don¡¯t¡­!¡± ... There we go. Now I just give her a few [Commands], maybe a failsafe or two, and¡­ Done! The [Hypnosis] is now in place¡­ ¡°I suppose you will need a towel, a cloth, and a lantern¡­ These useless weapons can stay though. Okay, Good. Now¡­ [Release]!¡± ¡°Wh..! Umm¡­ Oh yeah! I was going to bathe, wasn¡¯t I? I don¡¯t have time to be arguing with you.¡± Whoa¡­ Even when under orders, she manages to talk back. Her will is unbreakable. Perhaps her only goal is to make me pay for what I have done. In that case, we actually have something in common¡­ Taking a few minutes to repack the stuff the girl has taken from the coach, I then leave a couple of blankets and a pillow on the ground near the fire. She can sleep on those. I obviously will not be needing any. After about twelve minutes of peace and quiet, I make out a sharp metallic sound from the direction of the stream. Did I not take all of her weapons? Dangerous! This girl is so dangerous¡­ That is not all¡­ I hear another clang. Something is fighting¡­ With blades, no less. Is this supposed to be the part where I go check on what is going on, only to be pulled into some kind of fight scene, and end up protecting the princess¡­? ¡°I should sort out what I will need tonight so that I can begin learning to sew. Let me see... Needles, check, thread, check, fabric, check¡­¡± Preparing the necessary tools, I completely ignore whatever hero-esque situation is going on hidden beyond the convenient treeline. I refuse to get involved, even if the person locked in dire combat just so happens to be that urchin child. I only promised to drive her to Graves. If she goes and gets herself killed along the way, it is not my problem. When you think about it, it is for the best if she is to meet her fate out here in the middle of nowhere. It is not like she has a great life to begin with. Maybe she will be better off, rather than going back to begging. ¡°{UnS4tIsFaCt0Ry!1!}¡± ¡®Urk¡­¡¯ Well¡­ That is true. If a manga character were to act the same way, the plot would eventually be lacking. However¡­ ¡°I am not a hero¡­¡± The small legs, that had been hanging down off of the coach, bouncing back and forth, kicking the back of my head as I am searching through my supplies, stop when I give my answer. ¡°{¡­}¡± I simply cannot be the hero you are looking for. I could go save that child; It is not beyond my power. That is not what you were asking for though, is it? You desire an act of heroism fueled by empathy and compassion, of which I am unable to give you. Even if I were to save her, would it not be for selfish reasons? I can only see it as an immoral, act of injustice upon the heart of anyone involved. I do not like that kind of hero¡­ ¡°{DOe5 W4dE hAt3 mE?!1?}¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Of course I do! I hate you¡­ I hate that I could not save you. I hate what I have become, now that you are gone, and I hate the whole damned world when you are not in it!¡± Being able to mimic hatred again is a plus¡­ If any of that was the truth¡­ ¡°No¡­ I want you¡­ I wanted to save you, I wanted to be the person you were looking for, and I wanted you at the center of my world. However, fate is cruel, and now it no longer matters¡­¡± I feel cold. The heat from my body is pouring out into the world, dissipating into the endless night sky. Countless calculations are coalescing into a single, unmoveable fact. ¡°It will change nothing¡­¡± No amount of practice can change how I really feel, and saving that child will not be of any significant benefit to herself, or anyone else. Perhaps I am missing a part of the equation? ¡°Why do you insist that I save this girl? What do you see, that I cannot?¡± Taking a step back, so as to identify her intentions, I am instead greeted by her absence. Again with the teleportation thing¡­ Suddenly, I feel a sensation at my back, and a weight begins to press upon my shoulders. She has appeared from behind and latched onto me in a piggyback. It has been awhile since I have felt this kind of thing. Not since I used to carry my sister around when she was younger. I suppose this is where a normal person would feel nostalgic. I, however, feel nothing. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, and her hands meet in front of my heart. I am completely encapsulated by her embrace but feel no warmth from her cold, porcelain-like skin. This is only exaggerated by my shirtlessness and the cool night air. ¡°Or should I just trust you?¡± No answer is given, but that just confirms the correctness of the statement. ¡°Hmmmm¡­ I wonder¡­¡± With that, the grip around my neck tightens immensely, and sharp nails begin to dig into my chest. ¡°Ok, ok! I was just joking. Please do not harm your poor brother too much.¡± Not entirely enthused by my teasing, she hops down off of my back, and turns her head to the side, pouting with arms crossed. It is only in moments like these that I am able to get back at her for all of the outrageous nonsense she puts me through. So... She wants me to just trust her. To blindly listen to her with no regards as to the benefits, or the consequences. My highly analytical mind can only refute such an impractical judgment. Perhaps that is the exact reason I should listen. If somehow, rather than using the heavily-structured logical reasoning I am used to, I veer off track, relying only on baser instincts¡­ What outcome would such an action bring about? Come to think of it, this ghost-like girl is some sort of personification of something deep within me, so I doubt she would lead me astray. I tend to project the image of my dead sister upon her, but in actuality, it is more like she is another part of my fractured heart, separated and given life. I still do not completely understand it, no matter how much research in psychology I attain. It is likely that she represents human aspects such as empathy, and compassion, among others. Where these have come from though, I have no idea. I have never once experienced such things myself. Placing my hand on her head, I gaze into the black swirling masses, in place of her eyes, and gently stroke her scalp. I had often read about the pleasant effect this has on people, so I ended up using it upon my sister whenever I could not devise any way to calm her down. Eventually, it became a type of ritual. It not only worked wonders on my sister but also made me feel at peace as well. This time too, it has made her face slacken, free of any discomfort or negative emotions. As she slowly fades away, I stare at the hand that was once gracing her head. The action, the shape, and the reason are all the same, but it still was not the same¡­ ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ ¡°Now then, I suppose I should get this over with.¡± From the sounds of the harrowing combat, if left alone, it is quite evident that the victory will go to whoever the attacker is. In other words, the girl will die. This is obvious, as the attacker is likely a beastkin. The only beastkin I have learned of so far is that abkir that raided my camp back when I had first come to Gearia. That thing was bigger than a lion and looked far tougher, so it is unlikely a human will last long against that kind of monster. The fact that the fight is still even going on, is actually quite puzzling to me. Even if I factor in her strong tenacity, and am very, very, lenient when factoring in circumstantial values, the outcomes still miss by wide margins. Nope¡­ Like I thought, just using realistic logic, it is simply unfathomable¡­ In a manga, it is not unheard of, since the god-like powers of luck that some manga characters have borders on comical when compared to real life. Unfortunately, if I were to use that logic, I would have no way of deciding the proper boundaries. A nonstandard outcome¡­ A deviation from the norm¡­ A corrupt value¡­ I see¡­ ------------ I really, really, want to bathe¡­ This feeling suddenly overpowers my mind and causes anything else to fade from focus, until the only thing that matters is this one single task. It isn¡¯t an unpleasant feeling, more like a strong drive to get things done, with no room for error; Failure is not an option. It¡¯ll be easy though, after all, I¡¯ve been given my very own piece of soap to wash with, as well as a lantern to light my way. I¡¯ve never been able to use soap this new until now, living on the streets, and all. This is actually my first time taking a real bath. Until now I¡¯ve only been able to clean myself sparingly, mostly only when I was at Grandma Bee¡¯s house¡­ Grandma Bee¡­ Oh well, all that matters right now is that I properly clean myself. I can worry about everything else afterward¡­ Having removed my dress, and hung it from a tree, I dip my toes into the water. Though slightly cool, it¡¯s nothing I can¡¯t handle. In fact, the flowing water touching my skin kind of feels good. When I sit down, the water only reaches up to my waist. There¡¯s just enough room for me to fit my whole head under, so I dip my head into its bubbling depths. Somehow, I feel like a fish, swimming along without a care. All the while, somewhere deep down, I feel a nagging sense of dread. But¡­ I brush off this feeling because all that matters right now is that I properly, carefully, clean myself. Everything else is of little importance as of right now¡­ I¡¯m thorough and pay attention to every detail, making sure not to miss a single spot. In some spots, the dirt was caked on like thick scales, and very hard to remove, but I persevere. I scrub the soapy bubbles back and forth until the rose-tinted skin beneath is revealed. Finally, after spending well over ten minutes scrubbing everything, I am like a whole new person. It¡¯s as if I have been reborn as a baby; Clean, smooth, soft, and fresh. The excitement of my transformation grows within me, and I break into an embarrassing grin. But, what is this other murky feeling that is rising along with it? Nevermind. All that matters right now is that I properly, carefully, thoroughly, clean myself. I have no need to think about anything else, at least for the moment¡­ Now then, I just need to wash my dress and I¡¯ll be finished. However, there¡¯s a slight problem¡­ Until now I¡¯ve been relatively fine, despite straying from the highway, since it isn¡¯t that far from the camp. But, in this kind of situation, it would¡¯ve only been a matter of time before something should appear¡­ I hear a rustling from the brush located opposite the camp¡¯s direction, somehow different than when the wind blows through the leaves. It¡¯s sharper, closer, and even though it¡¯s dark, I can tell immediately that there is something prowling on the outskirts of the lantern light. If it is a common species of animal, there is no need to worry. In that case, it¡¯s probably interested in the light from the lantern. If however, the prowling creature is a beastkin, then I¡¯ll have to move fast if I want to make it out alive. Normally I would run away as soon as I could, but I can¡¯t abandon my things. They¡¯re all I have left. Besides, I still need to finish cleaning my dress. Therefore, I¡¯ll fight! win or lose, I¡¯ll do my best! Quickly dashing to the stream¡¯s edge, I retrieve the weapon from in between the towels I¡¯d placed along the shore before I started bathing. It¡¯s only a modest kitchen knife, but it¡¯s better than nothing. Seeing my swift movement as a sign to attack, my assailant decides to strike. It finally enters into the light and reveals its face. While it is, in fact, a beastkin, luckily it is one of the slower variety. This doesn¡¯t make it any less of a deadly beast though. The beastkin, a large, striped creature called a borpa, pounces at me. It only misses due to me redirecting the blow from the long, sharp horn attached to its forehead with my knife. The speed of the borpa might be slow in comparison to other beastkin, but if that horn reaches my body even once, I¡¯m not making it out alive. A borpa horn has an oily film that not only makes slicing through prey much easier, it also acts as a deadly poison, allowing it to kill most creatures with a single blow. I¡¯ll have to divert every attack from the horn, but other than that, there¡¯s not much danger. It¡¯s just, getting close enough to strike back will be difficult as long as it has said horn. Again, the borpa charges towards me. But I see its path and manage to direct myself in such a way as to escape the blow. The clash of the kitchen knife and the borpa¡¯s horn rings out into the night, and the force from the collision circulates throughout my whole body. Even if I am able to redirect the attack, the sheer strength of the borpa¡¯s attacks is going to wear me down eventually. I need to think of a plan, or I¡¯m in trouble. Each strike, I manage to just barely dodge. But when the borpa simply shifts its head to compensate, I¡¯m left having to shield myself with the knife. This dangerous dance of blades continues to draw more and more energy from my body, while the borpa remains consistent with its speed and force. This thing is displaying an almost endless amount of stamina. After gaining a bit of leeway on a particularly well-timed dodge, I snatch up a handful of pebbles from the water¡¯s edge. The gap was only a second, but I just barely make it in time to toss the stones at the incoming borpa as a smokescreen. As the borpa reacts in defense to the flying debris, using this small chance for a counter, I lunge at the hulking beast, aiming the knife straight for the thick neck muscles and throat. If I make this strike, the borpa will no longer be able to breathe and should bleed out shortly after. The knife connects, passing through the thick hide with a crunch. Thankfully, the aim couldn¡¯t have been any truer. As it rears onto its hind legs, the borpa reaches such terrible height that the knife is tragically wrenched from my grip. I¡¯m feeling a bit too close to the beast, so I attempt to dodge to the side. Despite this, I¡¯m clipped by the right leg in its descent. While it is just a grazing blow, the impact is tremendous, and I¡¯m sent smashing into the ground. ¡°Kh!?¡± Winded and rattled, I crumple into a ball, unable to even think straight from the pain. My entire body is throbbing wildly, and my vision is blurred. Still, I can make out the huge body of the borpa, raising its horn in preparation for my deathblow. I can only watch it in agony. I guess the attack I¡¯ve landed just isn¡¯t a deep enough wound to finish it off, and now I¡¯m left without a means to protect myself. I¡¯m completely out of commision after only one measly hit of this beast, and now it¡¯s ready to finish me off. Why does it always turn out like this? So unlucky¡­ ¡°Toh!¡± I¡¯m not fully able to make it out through the concussive haze. From what I can tell, a bright light that explodes near the borpa¡¯s horn, shattering it into glistening shards. The scene leaves both the borpa and I, in disbelief. ¡°Tototoh!!¡± Three more consecutive strikes blast the borpa from an unknown source, penetrating the thick skull of the beast, and toppling it from the sheer force behind the blows. In mere seconds, the creature is reduced from the ferocious monster that caused me so much grief, to a simple pile of flesh and bones. Rather than thankfulness at being rescued, my current self only feels the disparagement from this turn of events. Why must I be saved by that man? I am such a weak person¡­ ------------ It is a zebra-rhino¡­ Well, it has some peculiarities, but for the most part, it looks like a small zebra-striped rhino with an overzealous horn. By the way, did you know that a zebra¡¯s stripes are white? As a matter of fact, this ¡°Zebrhino¡± also has black skin with white stripes. Anyways, I have decided to observe from the sidelines to figure out whether my current hypothesis holds true. Though it has always been a possibility, I have not gotten confirmation of it until now. The power she displays definitely comes from my [Black Corona]. It is not enough to take down such a daunting beast, but I can still feel the remnants of the sizzling mass of dark energy as it transmits from its source, like wafts of steam being sucked through a vacuum. She tragically loses the match with the beast, although just barely. With that, I finally decide to step in and end things quickly, before the thing causes her any irreversible damage. With my knife equipped, I use the massive potential energy supplied by its enormous weight and focus the point of impact upon its strongest weapon, the blade-horn. I smash the butt of the hilt into the horn with as much force as possible, causing a devastating impact. Sparks fly as our blades connect, and the roaring chime it brings cries out into the night. The strategically placed blow is somehow strong enough to cause the horn to explode, fracturing it into shards, which fly like bullets towards the beast¡¯s face. As it reels from such a devastating attack, I follow up with a combo of pinpoint strikes aimed for the temple, which shatter the skull, causing significant trauma inside the creature¡¯s brain. Toppling from the string of blows, the beast meets its end swiftly, and painlessly. Just to be sure, I draw my knife in an arc and undo the beast¡¯s throat, letting the blood drain onto the ground. (Such a majestic creature, now nothing more than a pile of flesh and bones. So wasteful. I doubt I can even eat this type of thing to begin with¡­) Oh well, not much I can do about that, I guess. Besides, there are things that need tending to, so I will focus on those for now. As it seems the urchin child has taken quite a fair bit of damage. She will, unfortunately, require some kind of medical attention. Taking the lantern, I survey the surroundings for any other signs of life. Luckily, there are none. Thus, I set to work diagnosing the kind of damage that the child has ended up receiving. The bitter scene of this child, huddling in the fetal position, scrapes covering her naked form, makes me recall certain unpleasant memories, which I flush away by focusing on the task at hand. Most of the damage is superficial, being either cuts and scrapes. There is a fairly large contusion on her right side where the beast managed to clip her though. The ribs might be damaged, maybe even broken. I will have to check to know for sure. With my right hand, I apply a gentle pressure to her side near the injury, feeling for any abnormalities as I go. Other than the obvious swelling, I find no signs of significant damage to her ribs. In all likelihood, they have not been broken. With that out of the way, I should check for concussion or hemorrhaging in the brain¡­ ¡°Oi, brat! Tell me your name!¡± ¡°Nn? M-my name¡­?¡± Hah¡­ From the sounds of things, she has been rattled a bit¡­ ¡°F-Fern¡­ My name i-is¡­ Fern.¡± ¡°I see¡­ Fern, huh¡­¡± ¡°G-got a problem with it?¡± That is more like it. If she still has the energy to make that kind of retort, then something like a few cuts, bruises, and a bump on the head, stand no chance in hell. ¡°Hmph! Do not push your luck, brat¡­¡± ¡°Like I said, my name is Fern!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ Hurry up and finish washing already¡­ You will freeze dressed like that, you know¡­¡± ¡°Eh...? AAHH!?! NOO!! Get out of here you damn perverted bastard!!¡± Finally noticing that she is naked, she breaks into a panic. Running about, she grabs a towel to cover her body, then plucks the knife from the monster¡¯s corpse and launches it at me. Rather than embarrassed, it is more like she is furious. Is this really how you should treat your life¡¯s benefactor? Though I deflect it with my own knife, no problem. I guess she is entitled to at least some anger in that situation. Although, I wish she would tone it down a bit, since a similar creature may still be lurking about. I would prefer not to have a repeat of what just happened. Now that I think about it, is this not one of those standard anime scenes, where the heroine goes ¡°Kyaa!¡±, and slaps the hero? It seems wrong¡­ Maybe I am just not hero material¡­ Also, would that make this child the heroine¡­? ¡°Somehow, I am disappointed¡­¡± ¡°What!? Disappointed how!? What¡¯s that supposed to mean? Nobody even asked your opinion in the first place, you bastard!!¡± Eh, what? Did I just trigger a flag by accident? I was not paying attention¡­ ¡°No, nevermind¡­¡± ¡°Aargh! Mind your own damn business, you damn old pervert!¡± Old? I guess from her point of view I am considered old. Somehow, it feels like she is getting the wrong impression¡­ Oh well, I am not one to dwell on such things. I should just let her finish what she is doing since my presence only seems to be slowing her down. How bothersome¡­ Sitting near the fire, I gaze towards the night sky. Three moons, one dyed a reddish-black, one a dark-gray, and the last one a bluish-black, each one being increasingly smaller in that order. It may sound kind of cliche, but it is possible that Gwyn may also be gazing upon those same three moons. They probably look slightly different though. It is kind of calming¡­ ¡°I am on my way, Gwyn¡­¡± There is no force in this world that can keep me from achieving these goals. I will repay my debts to her¡­ It is only a matter of time. Chapter X | Light of Mourning, Wrath of Piety The great capital city Englred stretches high into the sky, towering above all else as a tribute to the grandiosity of the Gods. Its might is a venerable feat that demonstrates mortalkind¡¯s industrial supremacy in this world. Built upon the western flatlands located in the province of Engrimm, the sister province of Folgrimm, the city boasts a spectacular view of the flatlands in their entirety. This area encompasses hundreds of thousands of kilometers squared. The city is nestled between two great rivers. This easily defendable location in the central portion of the province, as well as having sufficient access to water and other valuable resources, contributes to Englred¡¯s role as one of the most prominent economic powerhouses of the world. As such, they host all types and races of people within its borders. Among the towering structures spread across the city, one certain building stands higher and is far more ornate than any others. The three majestic spires of this architecturally awe-inspiring masterpiece, are given the title Pillars as if they hold the weight of the world on their foundations. Each Pillar houses their own divisions of the most powerful organizations in the entire world, collectively known as the Court of Guilds. Currently, high in the Pillar of Judgement, a nervous energy emanates from those present in a certain private meeting hall. Except for the most composed, dire expressions abound and the silence draws onwards. It seems the majority are unable to decide how to respond to the news that has just been shared. The uncomfortable silence finally breaks in the form of a question¡­ ¡°Are you not mistaken, lad?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Your Honor. I made sure to check and recheck everything when I received them since I was quite taken aback, for obvious reasons. Unfortunately, these are the numbers that I was given.¡± The man that poses the query is a mountain more than a man. Sitting at the head of the large rectangular table in the center of the room, he dwarfs even the tallest amongst those in attendance. His overwhelming presence as he strokes his magnificent beard demands strict attention from the various individuals seated around the table. With the insistence given by the younger looking elfin male, the mood of the group changes from scepticism to incertitude. His youthful appearance may belie his experience, but the firm stance, and assuring glare he presents displays the true depth of his unwavering confidence in his statement. ¡°Daah, what a terrible day this is! Fine, you may be seated, lad.¡± ¡°Thank you, Your Honor.¡± With that, the young-looking elf returns to his seat, and a look of relief flashes across his face before he manages to swallow it down. The rest of the group¡¯s faces also become those of stifled anxiousness, as they look towards the head of the table for answers. ¡®Sigh¡¯ ¡°This is grave news, I fear. We must call for an inquiry at once! Is Ebon still investigating the Dunmire Debacle?¡± ¡°Er, no Your Honor. Ebon returned from duty just before the council meeting. I allowed for some leave since he¡¯d asked for it. He should be around the commercial district, knowing him.¡± ¡°Is that so? Hmmm¡­ This is quite an important task, so I¡¯d really like my best men on this¡­ Mmm¡­¡± ¡°Ah, I could send someone to retrieve him, Your Honor. Though I doubt he¡¯ll be too enthused about such a thing¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s great! Send word to Ebon that I require his presence as soon as possible. It¡¯s imperative that we get this situation under control. Do you understand?¡± ¡°Y-yes, Your Honor! I¡¯ll send someone right away!¡± Finishing his conversation with the well-dressed young man to his right, the giant of a man turns his attention back to the other members. His valiant composure, in light of such grave news, seems to only boost his rapport with the council. ¡°What is next on the docket that I should know of¡­?¡± Just as before, a different council member rises to his feet, as he begins to list happenings that currently plague the civilized world. ¡°As of last week, Your Honor, bitter entanglements with pirates have been reported along Engrimm¡¯s northern coastal region. The raids have caused unrest within the coastal communities, and many prominent members of the public have requested aid from the Guild in order to combat the piracy.¡± ¡°Yes¡­ I bet those fellows are still reeling from our assault on the Elfin coast last month. It¡¯s likely due to the storm in the north seas that they¡¯ve been forced to come so far south.¡± ¡°Should we send reinforcements, Your Honor? ¡°The people are our lifeblood, lad. If they require protection, then we shall protect them. I believe Gaien¡¯s forces are on reserve. as well as Dernick, and Katherine, and the others, correct?¡± ¡°Ah, yes, Your Honor. Most of the Grand Adjudicators¡¯ forces are on leave after the skirmish on the Elfin coast. Apart from Richt¡¯s task force, which is investigating the Graverobber Serial Murders, and Ebon¡¯s task force, who is to be assigned the investigation of the matter in eastern Folgrimm. Chaael and Gunder''s Liberators, who are currently stationed along the border of Maa¡¯ershveris, have reported no movement, so they also remain on watch.¡± ¡°Good, good. How¡¯s Richt¡¯s investigation coming, by the way?¡± ¡°Your Honor, I¡­ I¡¯m afraid his progress has become rather¡­¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s just that, Your Honor, the more he narrows in on the suspect, the less sense the case seems to make. He still has yet to even find any of the bodies. They just¡­ Vanish¡­¡± The council members, who had been intently listening to the conversation thus far, frown when they hear such unpromising details. The giant man simply scratches his beard in ponderance. ¡°Hmmm¡­ It¡¯s not going as I was hoping for. Perhaps it¡¯s time I have a little talk with that so-called Prophet. His Oracles could certainly shine a light on Richt¡¯s investigations, so to speak. Now, if I could just get that ornery fool to cough them up somehow¡­¡± Everyone at the table seems to have the same opinion, as they all nod their heads in silent affirmation, until being interrupted by a woman¡¯s voice. ¡°The Oracles are not meant for such a purpose. They have, and always will be here only to foretell of great catastrophe. You must understand, Tilrem.¡± As if by magic, the center of the room is suddenly lit by a blinding light, the origin being a white bird, which materializes out of thin air. The bird, who not only seems to be glowing brilliantly but also displays the ability to speak perfect English, elegantly takes up a position at the center of the table. This small bird faces the giant man named Tilrem undauntedly. ¡°Is nothing sacred to you bird!? This is a private council meeting!¡± ¡®Thud!¡¯ Bellowing a fearsome voice at the intruder, the entire room seemingly fills with the pressure that he emits, making it challenging for those present to even breathe. Tilrem then pounds the meeting table in frustration with his massive arms, that resemble sturdy tree trunks. The force he displays strikes mortal fear into the hearts of the council members. To the contrary, the bird of light seems unperturbed by Tilrem¡¯s uproar¡­ ¡°Settle, Tilrem. I have brought news. The Oracles have, in fact, done their jobs¡­¡± ¡°What? What are you talking about¡­? Wait¡­ Does that mean¡­!?¡± ¡°Yes, Tilrem¡­ Chaos has come.¡± The temperature in the room seems to drop below the freezing point, as gasps and murmurs overthrow the order there once was. What little composure the members of the council had left, now fades away into utter discord, leaving only Tilrem, and the bird of light to pick up the pieces. ¡°SILENCE!!!¡± Compared to the outburst from before, this cry for order, akin to the roar of a wild beastkin, strikes the raucous council members like a wall, immediately paralyzing them in their tracks. The pale faces of the council members attentively watch their leader. Partially out of their wholehearted fear and respect for the man, but also partly out of a longing for a way out of the predicament that has supposedly come to pass. If there is anyone who stands a chance to protect them from the tides of calamity that now threatens them, it is this man, the Supreme Adjudicator of the Guild of Judgement; Tilrem Weiss Winter. As far as mortals go, this man is the strongest on the face of the entire planet. Hailing from the frozen mountains in the north-eastern country of Imdghrisfirr, and holding the title of strongest member of the race of half-giants known as the Wintir, his entire body is built to combat the harshest of elements. It is no mystery as to why he would be revered so adamantly¡­ ¡°Bartus, call for a meeting of the Grand Adjudicators for tomorrow. I need Gaien, Dernick, Katherine, Richt, Ebon, and Chaael in attendance. Gunder can remain on duty in Maa¡¯ershveris; That brute should be able to hold his own on the front lines for the meantime, even if the Kingdom makes its move.¡± ¡°Of course, Your Honor! Um¡­ Pardon me, Your Honor, but how exactly is Chaael to make it to the meeting in time¡­?¡± The well-dressed elf to the right of the Supreme Adjudicator, known as Bartus, stands at attention when his name is mentioned. Being the one in charge of the Guild¡¯s information logistics, it is his job to relay any direct orders from the Council to the Adjudicators. However, this case is simply unfeasible. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the small things, lad! This little birdy here should be able to take care of it. Ga ha ha!¡± ¡°Are you perhaps referring to me with such crass belligerence. I can not tell if you are belittling me, or asking for a favor¡­¡± ¡°Kh! This is an urgent matter! I have no time for games!¡± Despite his pressing tone, the bird simply feigns ignorance and begins preening her pristine, luminous feathers. This causes veins to promptly bulge from Tilrem¡¯s reddened forehead. Unfortunately, his clearly visible anger does nothing to change the situation. Finally, after clenching his fists, and grinding his teeth, he decides to fold. The bird has won the argument. ¡°Daaah! Fine! A wise man knows when to stand and fight, and when to humbly accept defeat. Besides, there¡¯s no shame in losing a battle with a Goddess of your caliber, Yvir.¡± ¡°I¡¯m impressed, Tilrem¡­ Humility is one of the greatest assets that a ruler can have.¡± Rather than taking the compliment, Tilrem¡¯s face begins to sour. No doubt, he can be considered the closest thing that this country has to a ruler. However, just the mention of the word makes shivers crawl upon his spine. ¡°I am not a ruler¡­¡± It is a simple declaration, but underneath the layers of the various interpretations that may be derived from it, there is a hidden meaning, that only the Goddess bird Yvir and himself are aware of. Something from his past, that haunts him even to this day. ¡°Tilrem¡­¡± For just a moment, the great being considered by many to be the strongest in all of the world seems to shrink down to the size of just any other person you would see on the street. It is not so much a change in height, but rather, some other value, that defines him in his entirety; His aura. It really is only for a brief moment though, so it is not picked up by the rest of the council. He quickly returns to his overwhelmingly charismatic attitude from before. Yvir thought to herself that this is also a trait required for a ruler, but decided not to mention this out loud. ¡°Now then¡­ I hate to ask you this out of the blue, Yvir, but I¡¯d like to borrow one of your highest trained Travellers. I must have Chaael attend this emergency meeting. I¡¯ll compensate them, of course! Ga ha ha!¡± ¡°Hmph, That¡¯s more like it. I guess it won¡¯t hurt to lend you one of my children, if only for a little while. However, I hope you realize that my children¡¯s temporal abilities can, at most, transport only a single person across such a large distance.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± The look that floats across Tilrem¡¯s face suggests a curiosity about the limits of the Temporal ability. But upon seeing Yvir¡¯s expression as she walks menacingly towards him, he quickly shrugs off such reckless ideas. ¡°W-well, I only plan on transporting Chaael, so there¡¯s no worries there¡­ Haha¡­¡± ¡°Good. I¡¯m glad you understand civil tongue now, Tilrem. I¡¯ll make the preparations immediately.¡± With that, she disappears into another blinding flash of light. ¡°Civil tongue, huh...? I don¡¯t know who¡¯s more frightening, that blind prophet, or that damn bird! Ga ha ha!!¡± Now that the light in the room returns to a more comfortable level, and they no longer bask in the presence of the hallowed Goddess of Light, Yvir the Wanderer, the council unanimously lets out a sigh of relief. It is not as though their problems are taken care of, what with the Prophecy of Chaos still being upon them and all. It is simply that the impact of being in the presence of those who have transcended the realm of mortality is far too overwhelming. Whether they walk among mortals or retreat to the heavens, the power of the Gods is always an awe-inspiring thing¡­ ¡°I¡¯d like another Council Meeting scheduled in three days time. For now, this meeting is adjourned. Remember, speak nothing of what has been said in this room today, as per regular protocol. I don¡¯t think I need to tell anyone what will happen if this information were to make it to the public.¡± Anyone could understand that it will only cause great panic amongst the people. While it is unfortunate that important information must be withheld behind the public¡¯s back, it is a strategic move that is in the people¡¯s best interest. ¡°Now, everyone should return to their respective stations. Don¡¯t make any important decisions until we¡¯ve held the Council Meeting in three days. I¡¯ll also meet with our Goddess, to relay this information, and discuss a solution. Everyone, be well¡­ For Justice!¡± ¡°¡°¡°FOR JUSTICE!!¡±¡±¡± With just those few words, the shadow that had been hanging over the room seems to disperse, taking any tension they had been feeling up until now along with it. The two words that bring a flurry of emotions into any member of this Guild of Judgement. It is their credo of justice, that symbolizes everything they continually strive for. Upholding their own idealized versions of justice is what drives them, and they are proud to be part of that justice, no matter how small that part may be. As Tilrem surveys the council members, who blindly stick to their flimsy notions of justice, his heart begins to feel heavy. The fact remains that the worst possible turn of events is upon them and that they are sorely unprepared for what is to come. Nonetheless, the members leave the meeting hall clinging to a false sense of security, as they make their way back to their sections like they have been told. It is better this way. At least they will not have to live in constant fear. But¡­ It just feels wrong. What is the difference between himself, and those bloodthirsty, vampiric bureaucrats from the Kingdom to the north, that they spend so much time locked in conflict with? The short answer is¡­ Nothing¡­ A simple change in perspective is all it takes to see the truth. Blindsiding the public by withholding the truth, providing his troops with mindless false hope, and ruling through the might of his forces, he is no better than they are. No¡­ That thought is no good. Not when the people rely on him to protect them from danger, and to provide them with the support they need to overcome adversity. It makes no difference whether he thinks about it positively, or negatively. In the end, only actions matter. He has a duty to uphold the justice of the people. And for that, sometimes, he will have to get his hands dirty¡­ ¡®Knock, knock, knock!¡¯ ¡°Is that you, Tilrem? Do come inside¡­¡± A female voice calls for him to enter the large wooden door. There is a strong and proud ring to the voice that gives it the impression of being reliable. Tilrem, on the other hand, swallows his saliva, nervously. Pushing open the heavy door, he abruptly enters a fighting stance, just barely managing to block the sudden thrust of a deadly blade. The glaive, which stops only inches from his face, is propelled with such force that the burly half-giant has to use his full strength when clapping the blade between his hands. ¡°Grrooaargh! Hah¡­ You almost got me this time, I¡¯ll say! Ga ha ha!¡± ¡°Hmph! Are you perhaps slipping, Tilrem?¡± ¡°Ga ha ha! Is that so? Isn¡¯t it you who¡¯s gotten considerably better, Goddess?¡± Despite having a seemingly polite conversation, neither person bothers to release their grip on the weapon. Like a reverse tug-of-war, they continue struggling against each other with all their might. Not only that, this supposed Goddess, garbed in little more than a large blue bath towel, has swathes of beautiful, toned skin exposed in excess. This would normally make it shockingly hard to concentrate. However, neither person seems to stress about this fact. Tilrem, being a battle-hardened warrior at heart, is conditioned to focus on the battle, no matter the circumstances. Besides, when his opponent is the Goddess that the entire Guild is named after, the Goddess of Judgement, Galea the Hammer, there is no room for such shallow details. ¡°I figured you¡¯d be coming today, Tilrem. What news did the Council bring? Have they uncovered the identity of that graveyard bandit yet? Any signs of movement by those filthy demon scums from the north?¡± The excitement in her voice rises as she lists off question after question, and her grip becomes fiercer and fiercer along with it. How a human, God or not, could produce such brutal strength, Tilrem has yet to understand. ¡°Well, how about we have a seat in the room first. I can fill you in on the details afterward. We wouldn¡¯t want anyone to listen in on our conversation, now would we?¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°You say that, but are you sure you¡¯re not just feeling overwhelmed? I thought you were better than this, Tilrem? Ha ha ha...¡± ¡°Foolishness!¡± Before the provocation even finishes passing her lips, Tilrem reaches inside her guard, moving faster than the human eye; Let alone that it is someone of such great stature as the half-giant, Tilrem. The Goddess only just barely manages to draw the handle of the heavy glaive in to block his fearsome blow, the force from it still causing her to slide backward at least an arm¡¯s length. Although she remains in her stance the whole time. Contrary to what one would normally expect from someone on the receiving end of such a blow, the Goddess¡¯s expression becomes one of feverish excitement, like a child opening a present. As she retreats to a safe distance and prepares for her counterattack, Tilrem sighs inwardly. ¡°Ha ha ha! That¡¯s more like it! Dance with me, Tilrem!¡± The glaive spins wildly, becoming a violent propeller, making the act of approaching her a deadly gamble. Her technique equates to an almost godly display, a feat that must have taken centuries upon centuries of practice to perfect to this point. Even the bath towel remains undisturbed. The fiery passion she emits almost makes Tilrem lose himself in the heat of the moment. But knowing that now is not the time for such frivolousness, he does his best in restraining his fighting spirit. If he is to calm this raging beast of a Goddess, he can only rely on his wits. Once her fires start burning, attempting to stop her with force only makes the fire grow stronger; This much he knows from experience. ¡°Goddess, I¡¯ve received word from the Grand High Prophet. Not only that, it was delivered by the Goddess of Light herself.¡± ¡°Guh!¡± With those simple words, her fire is effectively extinguished, causing the battle-crazed Goddess to halt in her tracks. However, due to the massive centrifugal force stored inside her glaive, the tip follows its course, embedding itself firmly into the hardwood floor. ¡°Ah¡­¡± ¡®Sigh¡¯ While sympathizing for the poor carpenters, who put all of their efforts into constructing this elegantly crafted floor only to have it turn out like this, Tilrem can only smile wryly as he walks over to the glaive and removes it from its lodging. ¡°So, how about we have a seat over there. Then we can settle this whole matter. Or rather, perhaps you might want to put on some clothes first?¡± The Goddess¡¯s expression changes to a dispirited gloom, Tilrem¡¯s exclamation seemingly deflating her earlier fighting spirit. Hence, instead of the lively voice from before, a vague nod is all she manages to give him as a reply before she heads to a separate room to get dressed. This sudden change in character is all part of Tilrem¡¯s plans. All it takes is the mention of her most hated nemesis, the Grand High Prophet, and her mood plummets, allowing him to get straight to the point. The thorny relationship between the number two of the Guild of Wisdom and the number one of the Guild of Judgment is a well-kept secret in the upper ranks of the Court of Guilds. Although he normally frowns against using someone else¡¯s weaknesses to his advantage, in this type of situation, his conscience can let it slide¡­ Just this once¡­ When the Goddess returns, her appearance more resembles what you would expect from someone given the title of ¡°The Hammer¡±. Complete with greaves, gauntlets, and girdle, her outfit consists of a heavily armored, yet surprisingly fashionable raiment of dark, tempered bronze, gilt with intricate accents which appear to grow across the surface. Named ¡°Rampaging Mountain¡±, it is a masterpiece of which there is only one example in the entire world, made by the late dwarven master smith, Kernd Brollhorn. The fact that it was constructed as the prize for the Goddess having won a drinking contest against said master smith, only raises the value of the artifact. Beating a dwarf in a drinking contest is a feat that makes most mortals sick to even think about accomplishing. Let alone getting so smashed that they start a drunken brawl in the street. Of course, she had little trouble handling a few rowdy dwarves. Even in her heavily inebriated state. The Goddess tends to wear the legendary armor like a badge of honor, and the elegant design suits her gallant form, far more than a fancy dress ever could. Although, that is not to say she would not look beautiful in a formal dress. Only that somehow, it would simply feel out of place, considering her personality. At least, that is how Tilrem sees it. However, trusting the fashion sense of a Wintir is like trusting the fidelity of a Therianthrope, and those fellows are known to follow the tides of the Red Moon over their own conscience. Truly the most promiscuous race, especially when the heat reigns. Seeming to have calmed down, the Goddess sits across from Tilrem, upon the crescent-shaped leather sofa at the back of the large room. Noticing the tea, which Tilrem had prepared whilst waiting for her to change, she pours herself a cup, savoring the calming aroma. Tilrem remains silent all the while. Partially out of courtesy, but mostly because this situation requires a delicate touch. One thing he does not want to do is upset the Goddess before him. When it comes to a brawl, he can hold his own. That is how certain of his own abilities he is. But this person is a Goddess, and because of this, she is in possession of a power beyond the mortal races. As her title suggests, she holds the ability of Judgement, from the Dominion attribute, one of the most powerful attributes. If she so feels like it, her ability to issue punishment onto another can sometimes even defy the laws of nature. It is a frightening concept. But that is what separates those beings called Gods, from the other rabble inhabiting this world. That said, finding the most appropriate means of conveying this whole situation is of the utmost importance. At least, for Tilrem¡¯s well-being, it is¡­ ¡°Well, as much as I¡¯d like to forget this whole conversation even happened, if that recluse actually decided to reach out to someone other than his own spawn for once, then it¡¯s bound to be something of at least some significance, I suppose¡­¡± That statement, dripping with cynicism, while clearly showing her distaste for the Prophet, also proves her willingness to listen. With no more reason to worry, Tilrem finally begins his explanation. ¡°Very well. Firstly, I¡¯d like to answer a few of your previous questions, then we can get down to the matter at hand.¡± ¡°Be my guest.¡± Giving her cup a swirl with a teaspoon, the generous amount of cream added starts to form a vortex, until it eventually blends itself into the drink. Seeing this, Tilrem wonders how she can stand such insipid tea. His own preference tends to be for a more stronger flavored tea. Though he would not say this out loud in her presence. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ Regarding Richt¡¯s investigation into the Graverobber Serial Murders, with a lack of crucial leads, his work has come to a standstill. This damned bastard we¡¯re dealing with is methodical in cleaning his tracks, and not even a trace of the bodies have been found. In the end, we can¡¯t even decide whether he¡¯s actually killing his victims, or selling them to pirates. Everything he does, he¡¯s always one step ahead of us¡­ If only we had one of Wisdom¡¯s Oracles on hand¡­¡± Though the report is certainly disappointing, the Goddess doesn¡¯t seem particularly bothered by the information, simply sipping her tea in silent reflection. ¡°Do not worry, Tilrem. Despite Richt¡¯s cold attitude, I know personally how earnest that young man is. I have little doubt that he is doing his utmost in this investigation. If it should be that he requires additional resources in order to aid him, I will personally speak with that fool of a Prophet.¡± ¡°Heh? I¡¯m surprised.¡± ¡°Yes, unfortunately, there is something I must discuss with that blind fool, so there¡¯s no harm in using the opportunity.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Certainly true¡­¡± If the Goddess has a prior engagement with him, then it only makes sense to ask him about it while she is there. Perhaps she can get a more favorable reply from that finicky man. ¡°On a more positive note, Ebon has successfully settled the Dunmire Debacle, so Traiden Dunmire¡¯s court appearance should be scheduled by later this week.¡± ¡°That¡¯s excellent! I was beginning to think that rotten crook was going to slip between my fingers. Then again, I guess it shouldn¡¯t really come as any surprise, considering you put Ebon on the case. I doubt there is a man alive who could escape from that demon¡¯s grasp. Ha ha ha!¡± Of course, it really is a good thing that the streets are clear of such a high profile conman. But thinking about how frightening being in Traiden¡¯s shoes would be, having to face the devastating force that is that one man army, Ebon¡­ Somehow, Tilrem only feels sorry for the unlucky bastard. ¡°Now, about the situation in Maa¡¯ershveris, there hasn¡¯t been any movement from the Kingdom¡¯s side. Both Liberator squads will remain on watch duty, until further notice.¡± ¡®Sigh¡¯ ¡°I can never tell what that slippery little weasel is thinking. It¡¯d be nice if he¡¯d just stay cooped up in that crumbling ruin of his that he calls a ¡°Kingdom¡±. Knowing him though, it¡¯s more likely that he¡¯s scheming something from behind the scenes. Oooh, he makes me so mad!¡± The Goddess, demonstrating her signature indications of displeasure, taps her right foot compulsively, and clenches her fists tightly. Although this scene causes Tilrem¡¯s heartbeat to increase, he simply smiles wryly and continues. ¡°Ahem. Presently, thanks to our efforts during the skirmish on the Elfin coast one month ago, the Southern Sharks pirate fleet has taken considerable losses and were forced to retreat. However, due to the unfortunate timing of the storm taking place in the north seas, they have taken up mooring in the waters off Engrimm¡¯s northern coast. It seems that several instances of raiding have already been reported by the coastal communities, and representatives have requested aid from the Guild in response.¡± ¡°Is there no end to their treachery? I can¡¯t believe they¡¯d be so brazen as to strike right at our doorstep. Even after the thrashing we gave them last month. If this keeps up, you may be making a personal appearance.¡± That would surely work. But it is too soon to make such a rash decision yet. Besides, there are other things that take precedence¡­ ¡°I¡¯ve decided to send Gaien, Dernick, and Katherine¡¯s forces to take care of it. With Katherine scouting the location of their ships moorings, and Gaien and Dernick providing the required distraction, as well as cover.¡± When it comes to battle, Gaien and his Phalanxes are second only to Ebon¡¯s Reapers. Thus, he will form the body of the assault, assisted by Dernick¡¯s squad of Battle-surgeons. Katherine¡¯s tactical strikeforce will scout out the enemy. ¡°I see. Unless something rather unfortunate were to happen, those three should be able to handle it. So, what else?¡± ¡®Gulp¡¯ Now that he thinks about it, how will this person react when she hears what he has yet to say. If she is to fly into a rage, then it will be up to him alone to stop her, but¡­ Is such a thing even possible¡­? Only one way to find out¡­ ¡°Finally, the matter at hand¡­ I suppose I¡¯ll start with some news that came from around the eastern border of Folgrimm. It seems that some type of disaster has befallen a rural town called Fort Wayfield. And although many of the details surrounding the situation are unclear, it appears that there have been no reported survivors.¡± ¡°¡­¡± The Goddess¡¯s deep consternation warps her delicate features, as an uneasy silence fills the room. It is not until quite a few moments pass, that she manages to make some kind of reply. ¡°How¡­ did this happen?¡± Her tone, firm and demanding, much unlike her usual tempered elegance, clearly shows how unsteady her emotions have become. No matter how he proceeds now, it doesn¡¯t look like it is going to end well. For brevity''s sake, he decides to lay it out straight. ¡°The entirety of the town, including its citizens, have been burnt to cinders. Much of the surrounding forest has also been laid to waste. As for the cause, it¡¯s only speculation, but I feel like there is a connection between this incident and the Prophet¡¯s message¡­¡± Tilrem lowers his head and joins his hands in front of his mouth. Even though he has already solidified his conviction, the words are still hard to say. The lives of thousands of people are not something you can take lightly. ¡°I see¡­ Burned to the ground¡­ And what did the Prophet have to say?¡± ¡°The Goddess Yvir tells that the Oracles have witnessed the forthcoming of chaos. What that means for Gearia¡­ I¡¯m not certain, but I¡¯ve arranged for a conference of the Grand Adjudicators to inform them of the situation. This timing¡¯s just too much of a coincidence, and my instincts are telling me the Prophecy has something to do with the disaster in eastern Folgrimm. The investigation should bring more tangible answers, especially with Ebon as the leading role.¡± To Tilrem, who comes from an era of relative peace, it is not easy to understand what the coming of Chaos entails. The popular belief amongst the current generation is that the Oracles will foretell a calamity that can rock the foundation of their world. On the other hand, Galea, like Yvir, has lived for tens of thousands of years. Long enough in fact, that she has borne witness to endless treachery and strife, as well as the origin of the Chaos, of which the term Prophecy of Chaos draws its name. A shadow obscures her expression, as she tilts her head down in quiet contemplation. What she is really thinking of, Tilrem is not entirely aware. As an educated guess, knowing her personality, he is sure that she is unlikely to back down, no matter the circumstances. ¡°Finally!!¡± ¡°Eh!?¡± Finally¡­ Is certainly not what he was expecting to be her reply, considering the world¡¯s safety is at stake. Perhaps she misheard his explanation? ¡°Finally a battle worth fighting! Oooh, I¡¯m getting excited just thinking about it!¡± Nope. This battle-crazed Goddess takes an imminent threat to the lives of the people as nothing more than a chance to test her mettle. Then again, this type of reaction does sound more like something she might say. It turns out that he still underestimates the degree of her zealotry. Tilrem, having mistaken her subdued excitement as agitation or weariness, could not have been more wrong. He now realizes her state more resembles the compressed steam of an engine, trying to find a path to escape from. This is very bad¡­ ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry Goddess, but I cannot let you go on this investigation. I¡¯ll be leaving it entirely up to Ebon this time around.¡± ¡°Ehhhh!?¡± Her blatant paroxysm of utter shock and disappointment, almost makes Tilrem raise his voice in anger. Somehow, he manages to moderate his temper, save for the few bulging veins on his forehead. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware of this, but, the Senate of the Immaculate will be hosting peace talks with us this coming month. If during this crucial time, the resident Goddess of one of the Pillars of our Nation decides that she should go parading around the countryside in search of a worthy opponent, I don¡¯t think I need to mention what kind of effect this would have upon said peace talks.¡± ¡°Auuu¡­¡± As if she is a frantic puppy, whose hopes to go for a walk have been shattered, the Goddess loses the wind from her sails. Her being someone that has outlived the majority of people that Tilrem knows personally, he can only avert his eyes from the pitiful scene she displays before him. ¡°Ahem¡­ That is that. Now then, this concludes the contents of the Council meeting, so I¡¯ll be on my way. I have many things to prepare before the meeting tomorrow, as well as endless other matters to worry about.¡± ¡°Ah¡­! Thank you for all your vigilant efforts, Tilrem.¡± Suddenly becoming her usual steadfast self, the Goddess honestly praises him for all the help she receives from him. Despite being a Goddess, she is but a single person. Therefore, running such a large organization alone would prove to be too much a task. ¡°You¡¯re too kind, Goddess. I do this of my own volition.¡± It is true that he supports the Goddess¡¯ justice. However, it is his own ideals that brought him to this place. For the Goddess that welcomed him to be showering him with unadulterated praise, somehow feels dishonorable. ¡°Then, I¡¯ll be leaving now.¡± Bowing once again on his way out, Tilrem awkwardly exits the large room, leaving only the Goddess, still seated on the half-moon shaped sofa. For a small while, the heavily dressed Goddess sips her tea in silence. When she finally empties her cup, her cheerful face vanishes, and she reaches her gauntlet covered hands to the glaive that lies beside her. Within the span of a few seconds, she uses the glaive as a catapult to launch herself towards the ceiling. Then pushes herself off with her legs, landing in the center of the room with a thunderous crash. To the naked eye, it was as if she had vanished, then reappeared across the room in a fighting stance. The massive weight of the armor seems to give almost no resistance to her movement, and as she begins thrusting the lengthy weapon about, her colors begin to blur into a black and gold wave of motion. Every blow is dealt with many times the required force to provide a killing blow, but the whole display looks like the blossoming of the most beautiful flower¡¯s petals. It is a divine technique, of which only someone who has lived for tens of thousands of years can master. Most likely, any who should witness it will be not long for this world. ¡°So, you have returned, cursed one. At last, our score may be settled¡­¡± Chapter XI | Cradle of Mirth, Killer of Gods ¡°Ha! Ya must be wonderin¡¯ how someone as brilliant as me ended up in this here joint. Well, c¡¯mon then. I know ya wanna hear it. It¡¯s itchin¡¯ in the back of yer mind, fer sure. I can tell¡­¡± ¡°Eh¡­ What? Are you talking to me?¡± Shadows obscure the dirty jail cell, as the newly arrived inmate beckons to his fellow prisoner. It is hard for the other to tell, but the newcomer has a mischievous grin planted on his face. ¡°Course I am! Ya don¡¯t see nobody else here I¡¯d be chattin¡¯ it up with, now do ya?¡± ¡°Er, no¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s right, that¡¯s right. Two to a room they told me, an¡¯ threw me in this here dump with you. Oh, by the way, sorry fer meddlin¡¯ with yer solitude an¡¯ all, my friend.¡± ¡°No worries. I was just feeling a bit bored, myself. The name¡¯s Hartharus, but people just call me Goer.¡± With that, the man called Goer reaches out one of his long, rugged arms in a friendly gesture. Seeing this, the newcomer reciprocates by vigorously clasping it, and giving it a generous shake. ¡°Goer it is, then. Ah, my name¡¯s Barty, just so ya know. People also call me Barty, so I guess Barty¡¯ll have to do, my friend. Heheh.¡± Leaving those words, Barty takes a seat on the long bench attached to the wall, opposite the bunk beds. Having his curiosity peaked, Goer decides to humor this awkward, yet not unlikable man. ¡°You¡¯re right though, I am wondering.¡± ¡®Clap!¡¯ ¡°I knew it! Yes, I pegged ya for a genuine bloke, I did, I did. Anyways, it¡¯s like this, see, long story short, I just love puzzles! I can¡¯t get enough of ¡®em, fer sure, but that¡¯s not the good part, no sir.¡± In collaboration with his Gatling-like storytelling, Barty weaves frantic hand movements to and fro, causing a distracting display. His words all blend together in his unparalleled haste. ¡°I also heard the king of this here kingdom has a beauty of a treasure, that he locks away, nice an¡¯ tight in his vault, I did. So, I thought I¡¯d like to crack me that there vault, an¡¯ low and behold, I ended up in here.¡± ¡°You tried to rob the king!?¡± ¡°What? No! I cracked the vault. I don¡¯t need no pile of useless coins or dirty rocks. Were ya even listnin¡¯, huh? I love puzzles!¡± Offended, Barty throws his hands in the air, while Goer simply looks on in confusion. To him, it makes little sense for Barty to have broken into the most highly guarded vault in the entire kingdom, just for the challenge. Especially if he is going to end up in jail because of it. ¡°Wait, so did you actually manage to break in, or did you get caught before you were able to?¡± ¡°Ha! Of course, I did! Just who do ya think I am, some kinda crackpot ninny!? There¡¯s no puzzle I can¡¯t solve, none!¡± Standing abruptly, Barty turns his back to Goer, and in a show of displeasure, crosses his arms, and taps his left foot. Though the act is only a childish gesticulation, somehow, it still has an effect on his fellow inmate. ¡°Ok, ok, I get it. But really, how in the world did you even manage to accomplish something like that? I mean, getting past the guards alone is a scary thought, but breaking into the king¡¯s vault as well is just insane!¡± ¡°That¡¯s a trade secret, it is. Ain¡¯t nobody gettin¡¯ it outa me, I swear. I¡¯ll take it to the grave, ya hear, the grave!¡± ¡°Uh huh¡­¡± The turnaround emotions Barty sporadically displays, although dizzying and a bit over-the-top, almost fit his character too much. Pride, stoicism, outrage, everything seems to boil beneath the surface, ready to pop out at the slightest provocation. Goer, on the other hand, only shows disappointment at being shut out. ¡°Hmmm¡­ In that case, would it even be possible for you to break out of a joint like this¡­? Like, the whole thing, unnoticed even?¡± This presumptive statement makes Barty¡¯s eyebrow twitch involuntarily, as he places his linked hands in front of his mouth in abstraction. Once again taking a seat on the bench, he thoughtfully digests the question. ¡°Does that mean yer lookin fer me to bust us both outta here at the same time, like?¡± An overly scrutinizing glare supplants his earlier outgoing attitude, causing Goer¡¯s answer to stall for a few moments. Goer can almost feel Barty¡¯s eyes sizing him up from across the room. ¡°Er¡­ Well¡­ Yeah, I guess. Could you do it?¡± ¡°He¡­ Hehe¡­ Hyahehahaha!! Yer a real dog if I ever saw one, fer sure! A dog with a straight up backbone on ya! No cure fer this! Hyahehaha¡­¡± Taking a few moments to catch his breath, Barty reorganizes himself, before he looses a fearless grin¡­ ¡°You¡¯ll just have to find out, won¡¯t ya?¡± ------------ At first, I thought he was some kind of flake, but I guess this happy-go-lucky windbag might actually be of some use. The way he picked the lock on the cell door was like magic, I mean, I still don¡¯t even understand how he did it. After he stomped one of the guards while they weren¡¯t looking, he got a couple of keys, which worked to unlock the door to get out of the cell block area. Even when a guard with a pistol caught us in the hallway, he still managed to take him out in one hit; He¡¯s got reflexes like a damn cat! But what surprises me the most, is how laid back he is about all this; It¡¯s like he knows what¡¯s coming or something. I¡¯m so nervous I can hardly concentrate. But this Barty guy¡¯s leading the way, taking care of the guards, handling the locks, and still has enough attention to keep a lookout. Like this, I have no doubts he¡¯ll get us out of here. In fact, I can¡¯t imagine how he even got caught breaking into the king¡¯s vault in the first place; He¡¯s just that good¡­ ¡°Listen, Barty¡­ Are we almost at the access hanger?¡± ¡°Yessir! Down the next hallway, I¡¯d say. Better be quiet about it though, there¡¯s loads of rowdy blokes ¡®round here, fer sure.¡± ¡°Uh huh¡­ Got it, but are you sure we can make it out of here through such a crowded area? Do you have a plan?¡± It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t trust him. I mean, I¡¯ve seen his work, but still¡­ Living the life I¡¯ve lived, you learn to always be extra cautious of who you do business with, especially in a situation like this. If he has some sort of plan then all the better. But if not, I may need to rethink this whole operation. I¡¯d rather stay in this rathole, then get shot while trying to escape. The problem is¡­ ¡°Barty¡­¡± ¡°Shh! I¡¯m concentratin¡¯¡­¡± ¡°Hmph¡­¡± So the fool was just winging it this whole time!? I don¡¯t know whether to be impressed or just pissed off. I¡¯ve been seen by some of these guards we¡¯ve been toppling like flies, so even if I were to go back to my cell after all this time, I¡¯d still end up in hot water. What is this guy even doing, clenching his eyes tight like that¡­? He never makes any sense¡­ ¡°Got it!!¡± ¡°Wha!?¡± Gods! That scared the life out of me. We¡¯re pretty close to the hanger, so I hope no guards heard us. Maybe we should turn back just in case they come looking. Awwww! I just don¡¯t know anymore! ¡°Six, fer sure¡­¡± ¡°Six? Six what?¡± ¡°The guards, Goer, the guards! There¡¯s six of ¡®em in total; three inside the hanger, and three guardin¡¯ the drop-off area.¡± ¡°Six guards!? How in Gods are we supposed to make it past six guards without getting caught, or worse, killed!? They have pistols and clubs, Barty! I doubt even you could take on six pistols at once.¡± ¡°What kind of idiot would take ¡®em all on at once? No Sir! Gotta death-wish, or somethin¡¯, Goer? We¡¯re gonna take ¡®em out, one at a time. Nice an¡¯ easy like. Ya got that?¡± ¡°Oh¡­ Yeah¡­ That makes sense¡­¡± What was I even thinking!? I¡¯m glad at least someone knows what they¡¯re doing. I¡¯ve got to think more carefully, or I¡¯m going to get us both killed. ¡°So¡­ How are we going to separate them? We can¡¯t just sneak up and bash them, or the others will see it.¡± ¡°Hehehe. Well¡­ Just leave it to me¡­¡± Hmph, I guess that¡¯s fine. He is great at this sort of thing, and I¡¯d probably get in his road, anyways. I¡¯ll just do as he says, for now¡­ I still don¡¯t get how he thinks this is going to work though. While I¡¯m wondering about it, Barty starts to move. The hallway we¡¯re in is the bottom part of a ¡°T¡± hallway, and Barty takes the path to the left, which leads to the hanger. He sneaks through the hall like a master thief, totally quiet, and stops right at the corner in front of the doors. ¡°This guy¡¯s crazy¡­¡± If I were to try that, I¡¯d definitely be caught. So instead, I wait. Unlike him, I¡¯m no thief, just your run-of-the-mill murderer, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m useless. In a brawl without weapons, I¡¯m sure I could knock a few of these guards around¡­ Not all six at once though. When I take a peek around the corner, Barty is just listening to the guards on the other side of the door. If he doesn¡¯t hurry up, a guard could come from behind and ruin his whole plan. Just as I was thinking that he turns to me and pops a toothy grin, so I guess he¡¯s heard whatever it is that he was listening for. Does that mean we can finally do this thing? Then it happens¡­ Barty hears something that changes everything¡­ Barty¡¯s smile suddenly fades, his face becomes limp, and his eyes become cold and dead. For some reason, he begins walking back towards me. His entire mood completely changes. No, this can¡¯t even be called Barty anymore. This is giving me the creeps¡­ ¡°Hey, Barty¡­ What¡¯s wrong?¡± He doesn¡¯t even react to my question, just stares into the distance with his empty eyes. It¡¯s a few seconds before he bothers to give me an answer, but it is not what I¡¯m hoping for. ¡°Well now, it seems there¡¯s been a slight change of plans. I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ll have to go our separate ways; A minor inconvenience. You know how the world is; Quite a busy place, I must say. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll understand. Fare Thee Well.¡± His attitude, voice, and even his accent is totally changed. There is no way this guy is the same person as before¡­ Turning on his heels, Barty is about to leave, when I grab him by the right shoulder. He¡¯s not going anywhere until he tells me what¡¯s going on. ¡°Wait! What are you talking about!? Where are you go¡­ Uragh!?¡± Before I can finish my question, I feel a sudden blast of pain in my left knee, causing me to fall to the floor. My mind goes blank from the endless burning, as I roll on the ground, grasping my knee. ¡®Kkhhrraaarrggghhh!!!¡¯ It hurts so much, I can¡¯t help but scream out in pain, even with guards so close by. What the fuck happened to me!? Helpless tears blur my eyes, but I¡¯m somehow able to check my knee, spotting the problem. There¡¯s a finger-sized hole going right through it, with burned skin around the outside. For the love of Gods! The hole even goes through the damn floor! ¡®Nnnnrgh!¡¯ ¡°Can we please be civilized about this? I do not wish further harm upon someone who can barely walk. Hmmhmhmhmhm.¡± ¡°I¡­ It was you!?¡± ¡°How astute we are! You do realize it¡¯s only you and I here, do you not? Why don¡¯t I spell it out for you? You¡¯ve been shot in the back, so to speak. Now then, I have business to attend to, so, if you¡¯ll excuse me¡­¡± Shot in the back¡­? Betrayed¡­? You mean, this bastard¡¯s been playing me for a fool this whole time!? Son of a bitch!! I¡¯d always thought he was strange, but I¡¯d never felt he was untrustworthy¡­ Which is kind of weird now that I think about it. So I¡¯ve been strung along from the very start, and now he¡¯s just going to leave me out to dry¡­? No fucking way!! ¡°WAIT!! Get back here you slimy bastard! If I¡¯m going down, I¡¯m taking you with me! Ugh! GUARDS!! A PRISONER HAS ESCAPED!!!¡± Ha! Good luck getting away now, you backstabbing prick! ¡°Oh my. You shouldn¡¯t have done that. And here I was, showing you mercy and everything¡­ How foolish¡­ Let¡¯s make a mental note of this, shall we¡­ Always tie up loose ends.¡± The guards take almost no time finding us. It¡¯s scary to think that this could have happened at any moment, had we only been a bit louder. Actually, why didn¡¯t they hear my yelp from earlier? Pistols at the ready, they line up at each end of the t-shaped hallway, blocking off all escape. Three guards from the hallway to the left, three guards from the hallway to the right, and two guards behind us. We¡¯re completely surrounded¡­ But something feels off¡­ Come to think of it, how did he manage to make the hole in my leg in the first place? ¡°Get your hands up, prisoner! Don¡¯t even think of pulling any funny business! We¡¯ll shoot you if we have to!¡± ¡°How prudent¡­¡± Seemingly listening to the guards, Barty puts his hands above his head. If he just gives up now and gets caught, I can rest easy, knowing I¡¯ve returned the favor. But the movement doesn¡¯t end there. Linking them together, he makes the shape of a pistol with his hands, and after a painfully loud sound, the guards drop to the floor. ¡®Pah!!¡¯ ¡°¡­ But, know your boundaries.¡± All of the guards have died, somehow shot straight through their heads, while Barty is totally unharmed. Dusting off his shoulders, he then turns to me causing my blood to turn cold¡­ ¡°Slimy bastard, was it? There¡¯s no need for name-calling, is there? I thought we were friends¡­¡± ¡°H-how¡­?¡± What is happening here? Am I dreaming? ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. From the look of agony on your face, I think it¡¯s safe to rule out you having merely dreamt this whole thing, wouldn¡¯t you say so? Hmhmhm¡­¡± Huh¡­? Did he just read my mind? ¡°No, fool¡­ You display your thoughts upon your face, clear as day. Cold reading is child¡¯s play, for someone like me. This, of course, is of little importance to you, I suppose¡­ As you will soon be dead.¡± ¡°What did you say!? You son of a bitch! Fuck you!!¡± ¡°Whatever you say¡­¡± ¡®Pah!¡¯ ¡­ ------------ Being left with nothing in this foreign world was a tragic miscalculation on my part; A treachery upon me, if nothing else. But I can manage, I always do. The first order of business was to build a foundation of knowledge, upon which I could oversee this bountiful new realm. Though this proved almost impossible in the trough called a town where I had arrived. The petty townspeople were of absolutely no assistance, leading meager lives of paltry. But eventually, I heard tell that the king of this kingdom covets a treasure of great importance. Something about it being able to make him almost, if not equally as powerful, as the self-titled Gods of this world. Gods and kings and treasure¡­ Such a quaint little fairy tale. Even the people were abominable bastardizations, that little resembled humans, save for the general shape. Fantasy and fiction wholly resided among the populous. So I went there, to see this great treasure of which they spoke. Passing through the rather lax security, and opening the ancient looking vault was simple enough if only to be sorely disappointed in the end. Apart from the typical coffers, you might expect in a royal vault, there was nothing worth mentioning¡­ Almost nothing, that is. The most extravagant goblet one could even imagine, upon which jewels of radiating beauty shone like stars brought from the night sky. Every articulate detail had been meticulously crafted to the extent that the golden goblet had not a flat surface to be seen. The contents, a crimson liquid, glowed with a supernatural sheen, and an effervescent life broiled from beneath. Though it was clearly the blood of man, it was mesmerizingly enticing, drawing me ever nearer. You could say it was pure whim, or the accumulation of the stress and boredom, since the time I¡¯d come to this world until that moment. Thus, I drank of the goblet¡¯s contents, and it was then that I felt the intangible essence become one with my body. It was overwhelming like my soul was being fettered to the endless abyss of the cosmos. Trapped in a constant stream of flowing particles, as they ripped and tore at my flesh, dragging me into the darkest recesses of time and space. I was not prepared for the devastating force it entailed, but I held fast in its wake. Whatever it was attempting to do to me, I had prevailed over it, and now I¡¯d received an almighty power as my reward. Being sent to jail had been a minor setback. But because of this, I was able to overhear the foolish guard mention the arrival of a so-called vampire noble; Just the intriguing prospect I¡¯d been searching for. Taking care of the few loose ends that had cropped up, turned out to be a negligible feat. This is only to be expected of this new, chaotic power I hold in my hands. It took me quite some time to figure out the specifics, during which I¡¯d chortled alongside that ignorant fellow, but eventually, I got the hang of it. The science behind it is rather fascinating, I must say. In this case, I fashioned a low-energy particle beam, using my fingertip as the initial point. But, even though I¡¯d tried to output the minimum amount of energy, it cleanly shot through the floor, and further into the solid ground, about six meters deep. I¡¯ll have to do some serious work on the mechanics if I am to be able to use this in a tight situation. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. So¡­ Now that these pathetic fools are dead, I must rid myself of the bodies, lest they are found by any passersby. If they should warn my target of this whole situation, it is highly probable that he may abscond to a safer place. A simple particle beam will be of no use in disposing of these bodies, but I believe I have another solution to this problem. The first time is always the most troublesome, of this I am sure¡­ ¡°Hmnnnrrgh¡­ Ha! Prometheus has descended upon man, once again!¡± I¡¯ve created fire out of thin air, sort of¡­ ¡°Hmm¡­ I wonder what causes it to be black like so¡­? Oooh, I see!¡± Much to my surprise, rather than creating fire, like I was expecting, I¡¯ve produced something akin to anti-fire; The combustion of antimatter. The resulting reaction burns, but does not give off light. How devilishly uncanny. Be that as it may, the bodies are still engulfed in flames, becoming ash, which in turn disappears, taking the black fire along with it. I¡¯m very pleased with this unforeseen outcome. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to dwell on how it is that this miraculous ability works. My target will come and go before I arrive if I don¡¯t make haste. For something as interesting as that, it would be a shame if I were to miss it, don¡¯t you think? I certainly do¡­ It takes next to no effort to make my way to the room in question. I have now become akin to deadly artillery, after all. Even so, I cross paths with only a single infantry along the way, who is dead and cremated before even noticing my presence. Who or what they are is of little importance to me. I anticipate this noble fellow shall be sentineled by a task force of some sort, but I don¡¯t anticipate any trouble arising because of this. My plans should go unhindered, despite even their best efforts. Ahhh¡­ I surely hope this fellow can guide me to a far more interesting place than this one has turned out to be. If not, I can always search elsewhere. I am hopeful that he will not disappoint me though. I hate disappointment¡­ Having made short work of the two clods, who brashly deny me entrance, I knock on the heavy double doors, which obstruct my path. It is beyond these doors, where I can claim my prize. My greedy mandibles are salivating. ¡°Housekeeping!¡± In one fluid motion, I burst the doors ajar, designate any living objects, besides who I deem to be the noble, as targets, and let loose a string of accurately calculated shots. The once proud taskforce has now become a vibrant, chaotic, bloodbath. Only one of them had even drawn his pistol in time before a hole is burned straight through his brain. This went rather well¡­ ¡°Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Noble Sir! Hector Xavior Quince, by name. But please, feel free to call me whatever it is you desire. Nn¡­?¡± Bowing as a courtesy, I then look towards the single living entity left inside the room, apart from myself. This is when I notice an anomaly. All the men in the room are dead, while the one left alive, is in fact, a woman. Or rather, a girl. Oooh¡­ This is certainly intriguing¡­ ¡°My apologies, young madam. Perhaps I have wandered into the wrong room. I¡¯ll be on my way then¡­¡± ¡°Wait!¡± Hmhmhmhmhmhm¡­ Heheheh¡­ Hahahaahaahahaaa!! ¡°¡­Yes? How can I be of service, young madam? ¡°You heathen. You have reduced my most trusted officers into such an unsightly scene as this. And yet somehow, you still have the gall to patronize me so? You will not get away with what you have done, on this, I swear!¡± The elegantly dressed young madam, although distraught, and so very furious, still manages to uphold an air of majesty about her. If I had known this was a suit and tie affair, I would have come dressed a bit more stylishly. ¡°So this was the correct room after all. Ahh¡­ I was quite understandably doubtful, considering your appearance, and what not. I must hand it to these vampire fellows, they certainly do love their virgin maidens. Hmhmhm¡­¡± ¡°Vi¡­!? Ahem!¡± That¡¯s what I thought¡­ You can smell these kinds of things. ¡°Putting aside whether such things are any of your concern, I¡¯ll have you know that such anachronistic sentiments would cause an uproar if spoken in public. In the interest of common decency, I¡¯d ask you keep them to yourself.¡± ¡°Is that so? I do apologize. Hmhmhmhmm¡­¡± It seems I¡¯ve touched a nerve. I¡¯ll keep note of this for future reference. If the young madam wishes to be civil about this, perhaps I should play to her demands¡­ No, instead, I should push harder¡­ ¡°I suppose you¡¯d like to hear the reason as to why I¡¯ve taken such drastic measures as these¡­? Or perhaps not? Someone such as your busy self must have little time to listen to the plight of the common man, I presume.¡± ¡°Common man!? Do not take me for a fool! No common man could single-handedly assassinate an armed guard before they even have time to react, no less!¡± ¡°Now that¡¯s just not true¡­ That diligent fellow on the side there at least managed to grab hold of his pistol. Though that obviously wasn¡¯t of much use to him, was it? Hmhmhmhmhmhm¡­¡± Though she does her best to keep herself in check, I can easily read the hidden disgust on her face. Coupled with the slight squeezing of her fist, both clear signs that her emotions are roiling. The amount of control she has over herself is astonishing. It¡¯s a wonder she hasn¡¯t thrown that fist towards me, judging by how thick her current hatred of me stands. Harder, I need to push harder! ¡°How dare you! That man had a family¡­¡± ¡°Everyone has a family! Don¡¯t bore me with such drivel. I didn¡¯t come all this way to tell ghost stories, young madam.¡± ¡°Then what have you come for?¡± That¡¯s more like it. What indeed¡­ ¡°Mmmm¡­ Before we get down to business, why don¡¯t we have a seat?¡± ¡°Fine.¡± After replying curtly, the young madam sits back where she had originally been seated, only ever having moved a single step. The fragility she so wittingly exudes does nothing to belie her rigorous composure in the face of the earlier pandemonium. Is this how all nobles act? More and more, I¡¯m becoming interested in this rose of thorns¡­ ¡°By chance, would it be too much trouble to beseech a name from the young madam?¡± ¡°Alya Bastoviz, head of the House of Bastoviz, one of the leading seats on the Senate of the Immaculate.¡± Turning her nose up, her voice proudly rings out, as if trying to declare war upon the man who has so sullied her good name. ¡°Well, Alya, I suppose it¡¯s about time I told you my reason for seeking you out on this occasion. You see¡­¡± Leaning forward from where I sit across from her, I clasp my hands together in the shape of a steeple. My previous look of sarcastic complacency fades, replaced by a battle-ready soberness; A call to arms, which defines the seriousness of my conviction in this matter. I will only say this once¡­ ¡°I¡¯ve come¡­ To kill God!¡± ------------ Standing in the center of an empty stone vault, a solitary figure, garbed in a peculiar white robe, carries in his left hand a lavishly ornate birdcage. The bird occupying this regal-looking cage being none other than the Goddess of Light herself, Yvir the Wanderer. Strangely, the domed room is in itself, absent any form of light. Thus, the Goddess¡¯ own luminous feathers act as the only means of lighting the dark depths of the cavernous chamber. ¡°Is this really the right thing to do? I fear that if we do not clear the misconceptions those two have made, far worse shall befall them.¡± ¡°Do not fear, my child, for the conclusions they have come upon, are not entirely false.¡± Having just returned from announcing the dire revelation of the Oracles¡¯ precognition having come to pass, Yvir is now giving her account of the reactions to said information. This, of course, includes the conversation between Tilrem and Galea the Hammer, of which she has stealthily observed. Each has come to a hasty conclusion, but just as her counterpart states, each is also at least half correct in their assumptions¡­ ¡°That may be so, but if we leave them to chase after that unfortunate child fruitlessly, would they not be distracted from the real problem? I don¡¯t believe it wise to allow that man enough time to bolster his forces.¡± As if to reflect her discontent, the light she emits becomes erratic and flickers like the glow of a candle. Despite this, the robed individual remains firm, his stance unwavering. Heavily wrapped layers of black cloth cover his entire head like a cocoon, while his ceremonial robe¡¯s extended collar raises high above where his face should be. The black circle on the front of the mask-like collar acts as his only features, in place of his obscured visage. It is questionable as to how he can hear the Goddess¡¯ voice through all of the wrappings, and there is little chance he is able to see any of his surroundings. Still, he stands firm. The deprivation of his senses, whether bywill or perhaps due to disability, is likely the reason for his choice location being as bleak and inhospitable as it is. Residing here, in this sort of place, that others would consider him some kind of recluse is of no stretch of the imagination. ¡°Your heart still wavers, I see¡­ Do not falter on the path that has brought you here, my child. All things will come to their natural conclusion; All paths are one.¡± Though what he says sounds admissible, the true meaning, as with everything else about him, is far too obscure for one to fully understand. Even for Yvir, the one who is by his side the most, his words are always a difficult puzzle, that''s truth is often fleeting. ¡°He will bring calamity if he is left alone! Well¡­ He¡¯d likely do so no matter what¡­ And the scale would probably be harrowing, regardless of their interference¡­ I suppose it really makes no difference, either way.¡± ¡°The people come to us, seeking guidance from our wisdom. But wisdom is medicine, as wisdom is poison. Be ever wary of what this wisdom bears.¡± Causing hysteria is of no benefit for the Guild, nor for the people, is what she takes this to mean. When learning the truth comes with risks, it is better to limit the flow of knowledge. However, refusing to help at all, is simply negligence. Which must be why she was sent to tell the leaders of the Guild of Judgement about the Prophecy. ¡°D¨¦is¡­ Did you know that this would happen? That they would misinterpret my message?¡± For a moment, the man is silent, standing still, as he always does. The room starts to dim, as the illumination from the Goddess¡¯ feathers, slowly begins to fade. If she had been sent unknowingly, to cause such a farce, for some kind of hidden agenda. Left in the dark by her most trusted person, it would be a terribly painful thing. She would much rather have been informed of this from the start. Even if he had told her to do such a thing, she still most certainly would have complied. She trusts him just that much. Why then, had he sent her without telling her anything¡­? ¡°I know of all there is, of all there ever was, and of all that will ever be. You know this.¡± ¡°Of course! I alone know this. But then¡­ Why¡­?¡± This man, the second in command to herself, although to others is known only as D¨¦is, the Grand High Prophet of the Guild of Wisdom, he is in fact, The God of Mercy, D¨¦is the Prophet. From the ever powerful Dominion attribute, he possesses the omniscient ability of Prophecy. Little is known about the ability, as the details are kept hidden by the man himself, for good reason. But from what Yvir does understand of it, it is almost certain that he should have known this would happen. ¡°The flow of time is like a tree, nourished by the network of roots that lie beneath it. Moving a single root, will not alter the growth of the tree.¡± ¡°Are you saying that they would have come to these conclusions either way? Then why did you even bother telling them in the first place?¡± ¡°Just as the sun rises at dawn, so too, are we bound by our obligations. And just as the sun sets at dusk, so too, does shadow encroach upon us.¡± ¡°Obligations¡­ I see¡­ You did it to protect me¡­¡± Eventually, the fact that a terrible evil has come to this world, will become known, by some way or another. Yvir having brought the news to them first acts as a show of faith, strengthening the ties between them. If they had not been warned ahead of time, it could be interpreted as an act of malice. The Guild of Wisdom has a vast information network, spread far and wide. Therefore, the probability that they would be the first to find out is extremely high. However, D¨¦is had thought of this ahead of time. The room once again lights up, even more magnificently than before, as Yvir¡¯s feathery coat begins to radiantly shine along with her emotions. Nervously, she preens her slightly ruffled feathers, to calm herself down. ¡°Ah¡­ Um¡­ Thank you¡­¡± Despite her efforts to steady herself, these were the only words she could muster in reply. Even if he had sent her out of obligation to the Guild, rather than to protect her, she is still happy for the gesture. ¡°Ahem. On another note, it seems that unfortunate child has crossed paths with a child of God¡­ What does this mean?¡± ¡°One can only watch and wait, as the gears of fate turn.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Using the power of her many children, the Travelers, Yvir keeps tabs on any persons of interest who should surface in Gearia. Of course, with the assistance of the children of D¨¦is, better known as the Oracles. The Oracles travel the world, receiving information from various sources. They act as data banks, while the Travelers transport them from place to place. As the Oracles have only a minute fraction of ability compared to D¨¦is, this method allows them to bypass any problems they would experience due to their limited range. Altogether, this method of situated extraction of data makes up the bulk of how the Guild of Wisdom harvests the information it keeps track of. Though they are occasionally backed by D¨¦is¡¯ own power. On the list of important persons being tracked by the Guild, there are leaders of national powers, members of powerful organizations, highly wanted criminals, and various other individuals. This includes two relatively new additions, Wade Alder Pierce, and Hector Xavior Quince. Each is rated as the highest of priorities, Stage 10, which demands a strict, constant surveillance while remaining at a safe distance. This distance also takes into account the minimum range required to sense another ability user, known as the Mind Field. Though it is different depending upon the user and can be heightened with experience, painstaking measures have been taken to prevent either target from recognizing they are being monitored. That said, in the end, it is still guesswork. Thus, they are under strict orders to retreat immediately should they feel they have been discovered. ¡°I¡¯m not sure it is in their best interest to travel together, considering how regretful their first encounter was.¡± ¡°Grass will still grow on scorched soil, my child, given enough time.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ I wonder¡­ Nevertheless, I shall continue observing how they will act. I just wish there was some way for me to minimize any damage they should cause. I feel so helpless.¡± Again, the room grows dim, demonstrating the disheartening emotions the bird of light is experiencing. In the presence of her most trusted person, she loses the stoicism from her demeanor, and lets down her guard, displaying her much more fragile, and gentle inner-self. ¡°You cannot control the chaos of this world, my child, just as you cannot control the tides of the red moon.¡± ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ Despite the drawn out sigh, the cavernous room brightens up, as Yvir draws her left wing over her face, and shakes her head exaggeratedly. ¡°I was looking for support, D¨¦is, not looking to be treated as a child.¡± ¡°Is there a difference?¡± ¡°Nn!?¡± Having taken such an unexpected jab from a man commonly known as being a methodically taciturn recluse, Yvir freezes in subtle amazement. It is genuine moments like this, few and far between, that let her feel a solid connection to this otherwise unsociable person. ¡°I suppose that was rather foolish of me, yes. Hahaha¡­¡± ¡°Do not fear, my child. Soon, the time will come for us to let ourselves become known. However, until that time, we must wait¡­¡± ¡°Of course¡­ Let¡¯s just hope that time comes sooner, rather than later.¡± Though they do not yet know when that time will come, they do know it is an inevitability. Therefore, they will wait. For the chaos to plunge their world into calamity, and for the heart of man to begin their search for a light to guide them through the darkness, These two will wait. It should not be long now¡­ Chapter XII | Bed of Lies, Margin of Error It took me less than four hours to become adept enough in the art of sewing to be able to fashion myself a new outfit. Of course, this practice was done at night after the brat had finally fallen asleep since I had to use her patchwork mess of a dress as a reference in order to sew anything. After that whole zebra-rhino affair, she was so tired she could barely walk. This is why it was no challenge to remove the thing while she slept. The hard part was somehow getting it back on, once I had finished disassembling, and reassembling it a few times. If she had been wearing something other than a dress, it would have been impossible, but for whatever reason, she was not. Now that I think about it, this brat does not wear undergarments¡­ I suppose it is just not done in this Victorian-esque world. Apart from her, billowing bloomers abound. However, it is kind of risque to wear nothing under your dress, not to mention unsanitary. Perhaps I will see about contriving something of the sort for both her and myself¡­ Though I make no guarantee of quality. Alas, time is growing thin, so it will have to wait. The brat slept soundly through the night, despite my machinations. The battle really took a toll on her endurance. But, as she was egregiously undernourished to begin with, it is no wonder. Then there is the [Black Corona]¡­ I surmise that the sooner this child is free from my presence, the better; For both our sakes¡­ ¡°Oi, brat. Get the hell up.¡± It is already 6:00 AM, so I do not wish to loiter around here much longer. As I am so far in the dark concerning the movements of the enemy, I would like to stay one step ahead. At least if I can help it. ¡°Mnngnn¡­ Not a brat¡­ Mnnngnnn¡­¡± Hooo¡­? This is quite a cliche development. Her being wrapped up snugly under the covers, whilst I try desperately to wake her up. I am sincerely touched, I really am. In this kind of situation, I have just the response¡­ ¡®Toh!!¡¯ ¡°Guhaaa!! OWwwwwwwww!!!¡± ¡°Good Morning¡­¡± ¡°Good Morning!? What kind of sick lunatic assaults someone while they¡¯re sleeping!?¡± You are lucky I held back. Besides, I chose an area that only severely hurts, and avoids any lasting damage. Er, wait¡­ Does that not sound like I am merely trying to hide the evidence¡­? Maybe next time I should use a bucket of cold water¡­ Nah, that seems like too much trouble. ¡°I made breakfast. Eat it.¡± ¡°Eh? B-breakfast¡­?¡± Apparently, breakfast is not an everyday occurrence for this urchin brat. She was almost certainly meant to occupy the third seat at that witch¡¯s last meal, so perhaps I ruined quite an important event for her. Well, she is an urchin child, so she must be used to such an austere lifestyle¡­ Hmm¡­ Not wasting food supplies on her would definitely make my provisions last longer... But I have already cooked the thing, so I would rather it not go to waste. That said, it is only a bit of canned gruntt meat thrown on a sandwich, lightly toasted. This particular meat tastes like gamey ham with a bit of a pickle flavor. While I have no trouble stomaching the thing, it does have quite a sour smell, which is a bit off-putting. If I had a better understanding of the herbs I have appropriated from that witch¡¯s house, I could properly dress it up a bit. Just another one of the things I will have to work on, I suppose. There is no end to this to-do list. ¡°Hurry up¡­ I want to leave soon.¡± ¡°Wait¡­ You¡¯re leaving? What are you talking about? What about Fort Wayfield? I¡¯m going back to Fort Wayfield!¡± ¡°Heh¡­? Good luck with that.¡± ¡°What!? No! You¡¯re the one taking me! We¡¯re going back to Fort Wayfield, and you¡¯re turning yourself in!¡± Ugh¡­ Not this again¡­ ¡°Not happening¡­¡± To blatantly order someone to turn themselves in¡­ Is this brat an imbecile? What kind of criminal would simply agree to something so illogical? This world¡¯s idealized sense of justice is far more than I can possibly take in. ¡°If you don¡¯t go, then I will! And just so you know, I¡¯ll tell them it was you, and everything else I know about you. You¡¯ll never be able to escape¡­¡± ¡°[Command]. [Mute]!¡± ¡°¡­!?¡± What a troublesome brat¡­ Good thing I already saw this coming. As standard practice for the foreseeable future, whenever I use [Hypnosis] on a target, I will also apply a few additional safety measures, aptly named [Commands]. They are just simple things, like [Task] then [Release] to give them tasks, [Mute] to disrupt their ability to communicate, [Monitor] to erase my existence, [Rest] to shut down all of their unnecessary functions, essentially putting them to sleep, and [Refresh] to cancel all [Commands]. I have organized most of the language I will use in computer terms since they are far easier to remember that way. Additionally, a target will only respond to my own voice, so there is little chance of something unexpected happening. Altogether, they will be an invaluable aspect of [Hypnosis], which makes it all the more important that I have the ability to use it on any pesky hazards. I have already got witches covered since I did manage to make an induction on that old hag. However, I have no way of testing the other two. Would the fact that it works on my own consciousness count? If I can be considered what this world calls a ¡°God,¡± then if I should use self-hypnosis, it would technically be the same. Hmmm¡­ I am not fully convinced¡­ ¡®Slap!¡¯ ¡°Mm?¡± Having silenced her annoying whining, I have been fruitfully ignoring her existence. As soon as she realizes that it is I who has stolen her voice, she quickly decides to retaliate with force. Though it may not particularly hurt to be slapped by such a frail child, it is rather annoying. ¡°It is unwise to tempt fate, br¡­¡± ¡®Slap!¡¯ This impertinent brat¡­ ¡°Are you quite finished?¡± ¡®Slap!¡¯ ¡­ ¡°[Command]. [Task]!¡± This is going to seem a tad harsh, but she has brought this upon herself¡­ ¡°You will no longer willingly harm my being. Additionally, you will strive to gain my favor. My identity, and anything incriminating about me you may have, or receive knowledge of, is to remain confidential¡­ Also, eat your breakfast.¡± There, that should restrict her movements just enough to make my life easier, while not hindering her mobility. I do not want to cripple her free will, only dampen it; Though, knowing how much hatred she has for me, there is not much difference. ¡°[Release]!¡± ¡°Guh¡­ Nn¡­? Nuh¡­ NO!! Urrrrrrrrraaaa!!! Must, not¡­! No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO¡­¡± H-huh¡­? I think I have broken her¡­ What a bother¡­ ¡°[Command]. [Task]!¡± If it is because she does not want to forgive the person who killed that witch, and ruined her life, then I will just have to compromise. Having her in this state would be of little applicable use to anyone. ¡°You will no longer compulsively strive to gain my favor. Simply keep my identity and incriminating information safe, and do not willfully harm my being. Everything else will continue as per usual. Oh¡­ And eat your damn breakfast.¡± I really do not wish for her to have the potential to attack me. But, considering how indestructibly resolute she is, I am not at all confident that this will work. ¡°[Release]!¡± ¡°Mnn¡­ Breakfast¡­? Hmph! Like I need your stupid breakfast.¡± I guess that can be considered promising. At least her wildly malfunctioning frenzy has ceased. I can still sense her deep animosity towards me and my breakfast. This is fine¡­ I have a use for such feelings after all. In spite of her complaints, the brat still sits down by the firepit, and scarfs down her gruntt sandwich. Choosing sustenance over grudge is all well and good, but her hatred is going to fizzle out if she keeps making concessions. Should I find her to no longer be of practical value in regaining my emotional facade, I will leave her in the next town and try a more heuristic approach. Whether such a thing is viable or not, I am unsure, but I am not one to waste resources for no discernable purpose. Anyways, now that I have finished sorting out that whole dilemma, I get to work cleaning the dishes, repacking my supplies into the coach, and getting ready to leave. Barring that something else bothersome should happen, I think I can make it to my next location by evening. According to the map, the road to Graves intersects a little town called Bronzegate. As I am traveling on a side road, instead of the highway, I am left with two choices. I can either rest in town for the night, and continue in the morning, or skip Bronzegate altogether, saving myself a few precious kilometers in the process. As much as I would rather not have to spend the night in such a crowded place, I am in need of a few bits and pieces, mainly for sewing. The clothier¡¯s stash had most of the necessary equipment, but I have thought of a few additions I would like to add onto the [Raven¡¯s Garb], which I currently do not have in stock. Apart from that, I am also going to require a fair bit of money. I have various means of making said money; The most lucrative method being to steal it from a bank. Though, as this method is tedious and impractical, I will likely resort to something slightly more legitimate, like gambling¡­ Then again, do they even have gambling in this world? I hope so¡­ It is not covered by their Code of Ethics, so they should have some form of it or another. Perhaps I will have to stoop as low as highway robbery? Speaking of which, it seems the first group of people I am to encounter on this side road, may be of the sordid variety¡­ An hour and a half on the road and I finally meet a vehicle traveling in the opposite direction. The coach is similar in structure to my own, but slightly larger, being drawn by two horses, rather than one. Apart from that, the coach is accompanied by a third horse, with a rider saddled upon it. The fellow holding the reins is a gaunt skeleton of a man, who could easily be mistaken for a hospital patient undergoing treatment for some form of terminal illness. His counterpart, a hideously hairy, and ogreish brute, makes these two the obvious choice if one were to be looking to hire a couple of henchmen. Acting as the rear guard is the horseman, who I assume is one of the so-called Therianthropes. While mostly human-like in appearance, his ears are floppy, and droop down, like a sad puppy. Nonetheless, his scarred face, his standoffish demeanor, as well as his overly muscular build, scream that he would rather not be messed with. It is kind of anticlimactic for this distasteful barbarian to be the first Therianthrope I should meet in this world. Perhaps it would be best if I quieted this monstrosity, and pretend like it never happened¡­ On second thought, that would be much too bothersome for this time of day. Something about the body language they are projecting feels off. If I were to venture a guess, these fellows are either a gang of traveling bandits or smugglers of some sort. I do not want to have anything to do with them, so I am planning on letting them pass. Now that I think about it, meeting these fellows really gives you that otherworldly journey vibe. Until you meet bandits on the road, the adventure is just not real enough¡­ Although in my case, I am going to ignore them and continue on. Those protagonists that make it a point to cut down any evil they should encounter, left right and center¡­ It is all so tiring, you know? Having to make a scene whenever a lowly thief passes me would more than triple the amount of time it would take me to find Gwyn. Besides, what right do I have to tell them off, when I am essentially a terrorist myself. It is utter hypocrisy¡­ ¡®Sigh¡¯ ¡°What now? You¡¯re always sighing, sighing, sighing, all the damn time! You¡¯re so depressing! What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± Thank you for your concern, but shut the hell up¡­ Fortunately, this brat has yet to notice that the oncoming party is of questionable motive. The last thing I need is for her to do something to rile them up and start some kind of commotion. I wish I still had room in my cabin, so I could stuff her in it, and not have to listen to her sniping at me constantly. Those henchmen have the right idea; Keep the passengers in the cabin, where they belong. Wait¡­ ¡°Hey, hey! Look, look, Horrence! The girls in that cabin are all tied up! What¡¯s going on? Are those men kidnappers?¡± ¡®Tch¡¯ The passengers must have heard that there is another vehicle on the road, because they push back the curtains, just as we are passing by. It is somewhat difficult to make out, but from what I can tell, they are a group of children, each bound at the wrists like slaves. This is a surprise¡­ One of the sections of the Code of Ethics covers slavery and forced enclosure. Which means that these fellows are purposely disobeying the Gods. This is the only possible way to describe this situation. How brazen, to be kidnapping and human trafficking in a world like this, where the consequences incurred are as frightening as going up against someone with a power like mine¡­ I pity this sorry lot. Anyways, ignore them, ignore them¡­ I would rather not pry into other people¡¯s business. It is quite rude, you know¡­ ¡°Hey, Horence! Did you hear me? Look over there. Look, I said!!¡± ¡°I see nothing¡­¡± Please just leave it alone, brat. I do not have time for your naivety! ¡°Liar! Those men are clearly kidnappers! Why are you ignoring them, you bastard?¡± You do realize that I am also one of those said kidnappers, right? ¡°None of my business¡­¡± ¡°Wha¡­!? None of your business? What¡¯s that supposed to mean!? I can¡¯t believe you¡­ Fine! If you won¡¯t help them, then I will!¡± ¡°[Command]. [Rest]!¡± ¡°Mn¡­!¡± That was close¡­ What kind of cheap plot is this imbecile trying to pull? What good is a brat like her possibly going to accomplish by picking a fight with three adult men? They are armed, you know¡­ I manage to put her to sleep before she does anything idiotic, but the long-eared bastard has definitely heard her babbling. Please just leave it alone, you sorry excuse for a watchdog¡­ ¡°Eioh, traveler! Ya got somethin¡¯ ya wanna say?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± Pulling up to my coach, he keeps his horse synced alongside me, close enough that I can make out my own reflection in his glaring eyes. Whether I can talk my way out of this ordeal, or not, I just want this situation to be over and done with. This bastard stinks¡­ His aroma is like that of soggy, mangy, animal fur, mixed with a putrid body odor left untamed for weeks on end. The brat was bad, but this is absolutely blasphemous! I am going to throw up again¡­ ¡®Urp¡­¡¯ Nope, I just swallowed it¡­ ¡°I have no b-business¡­ With yourselves.¡± So take a hint and take your stench away, before I end up doing something I will most certainly regret. ¡°I heard tha¡¯ brat there talkin¡¯ ¡®bout us like we¡¯s some kinda kidnappers ¡®r somethin¡¯. We can¡¯t just let somethin¡¯ like that go; Not when we¡¯s clearly a couple a¡¯ fine gentlemen like we is.¡± Ugh¡­ His accent is giving me a migraine. Why do people like this not just go to school and learn to speak properly like everyone else? I do not want to spend precious time decrypting this gross injustice upon human language. ¡°She was just sleep talking¡­ See?¡± Taking the reins into my left hand, I firmly poke the brat in the nose. This is partly to show that she is sleeping and partly as revenge for getting me into this mess. Of course, she does nothing at my prodding, as she is essentially asleep after all. ¡°Hmph¡­¡± The dog-man looks unconvinced. Are all kidnappers as feverishly paranoid as this fellow? The lethargic way they are portrayed in anime is almost retarded in comparison to this. At least now I know not to base any of my calculations concerning such things on unsubstantial quash. ¡°I know¡¯s what I heard, and I heard ya talkin¡¯ ¡®bout our merchandise. Ya can¡¯t pull one over on these ears.¡± As he finishes his rant, I am partially expecting him to spit to one side, like in a spaghetti western. Instead, he visibly chomps his teeth, baring his sharp, grimy fangs in the process. How crude. ¡°Like I said¡­ I have no need f-for some r-random traveler¡¯s business¡­¡± This is becoming tedious. Scurry along cockroach, and begone with you¡­ ¡°An¡¯ I said I can¡¯t just let ya go, now can I?¡± With that, he parts his heavy coat and unleashes a rather unwieldy pistol from his waistline, with brass accents that glint in the early morning sun. Less then a second goes by before the bastard fires a hefty slug, immediately piercing my temple through and through. ¡®Pah!!¡¯ What kind of idiot just shoots right away like that!? Where was the dawning moment where he reveals his pistol, the scene where I gaze upon the weapon in terror as I confront the end of my life, sullying all sense of dignity I once had? This fool cannot understand the drama that goes into a death scene. The complicated structure and integrity have to be built up over time, with a final climax that buckles the foundations. Everything must crumble to the ground in an eruption of bountiful splendor. Once again, I am left wanting when it comes to this poorly-trained, sorry excuse for a wet dog. His presence has become a hindrance to my quest. That said, I believe it is my solemn duty for him to be put down. That I do not regret this decision later is my only desire. With the momentum gained from the bullet¡¯s impact, I tilt my body forwards, and stealthily equip my knife. The action flows naturally, so it does not raise any suspicion from my assailant. Instead, he seems more interested in the brat sleeping next to me. I had better be quick about this¡­ This fellow has an itchy trigger finger. ¡°Toh!¡± ¡®Pah!¡¯ This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. My left palm strikes the bottom of the barrel, causing the trajectory of the skillfully aligned shot to deviate. Though my primary objective is to prevent the bullet from finding its host in this unfortunate child, it also serves to open my opponent¡¯s guard. Time for round two¡­ ¡°Toh!¡± One firm strike to the complex laryngeal structure, halting his breath and seizing his voice. If left alone, it is possible that this trauma could cause asphyxiation, but the chances are negligible. ¡°Toh!¡± One strike to his mandibular bone from the left side, tilting the skull in further preparation, and from what I can tell, fracturing his jaw. ¡°Toh!!¡± Finally, a potent strike with the butt of my knife directed between the temporal and sphenoid bones, dealing grievous damage; Though, tragically not with enough force for this to be instant, or painless. The distance between us, as well as the awkward positioning, may have hindered me from cleanly breaking his spine, but with his brain having been so intimately introduced with his shattered skull, his death is now an inevitability. If only I could just be on my way, now that I have dealt with this Therianthropic imposter. I have no qualms with those other henchmen-like fellows. Perhaps blatantly downing one of their entourage was a less than optimal solution. Although, he did shoot first¡­ Having noticed their associate limply dangling from his horse, the kidnapping caravan comes to a halt. Henchman A and B hastily leap from the driver¡¯s seat to check on their merchandise, before walking towards my now stationary coach. They are still unaware of the whole situation, so there is some leeway when it comes to my next moves. While I would prefer to just boldly leave them in the dust, the outcome of this action would bring little benefit. It is easily foreseeable that either of them could simply utilize this dead fellow¡¯s horse to catch up. In that case, it is better to catch them by surprise now whilst they are unprepared. Making sure no harm comes to my burden is my number one priority¡­ My food, that is¡­ Currently, A and B are far enough away to be unable to hear my voice. Thus, to protect my precious supplies from any stray bullets, I have thought of a rather ingenious plan. After some preparations, I retreat to the side of the coach opposite the incoming two brutes, both of which have drawn pistols from their waistbands. If their associate¡¯s actions are of any indication as to how they should react to conflict, a direct confrontation is decidedly ill-advised. Fortunately, I am skilled when it comes to stealth and subterfuge, so the plan should commence smoothly. If worse comes to worst, I can always go with ¡°Plan B¡±. In which case, any witnesses will be dealt with accordingly¡­ As they approach what they now realize to be their fallen comrade, their grip tightens upon the pistols they wield. A tense silence covers the area, save for the grit from the dirt road, that crunches beneath their boots. ¡°Wha¡­!¡± Suddenly, A small figure stumbles to the ground in front of the dead man¡¯s horse. Upon entering the scene, the petite frame of the impoverished child¡¯s body is immediately targeted by both loaded pistols. The only thing stopping them from firing being the unusual situation before them. The child¡¯s hair is long and white, with the color having been drained all the way down to the roots. Not only that, when the child stands and faces the two, her slender figure is scant any form of clothing. It is as if a delicate forest nymph has appeared before them. When the girl finally notices her current want of attire, abashedly, she ducks to the front of the coach; away from prying eyes. ¡°Heh heh! Now, what do we have here?¡± Letting loose a disgusting snicker, the brawny oaf turns back to his slimy eel of a partner, only to be met with confusion. Unbeknownst to him, while he had been ogling the meat I had placed as bait, I have disposed of his fellow coworker. (This actually went quite well¡­) ¡°Your associate is dead¡­¡± Hearing my voice behind him, he turns in surprise only to be disarmed before he can even fully understand the situation. The unappealing sound of shattered bone rings out, as his knee is kicked at an awkward angle. ¡®Kkkraaaaaargh!!!¡¯ I suppose that must have hurt¡­ But still¡­ This brute has an amazing lung capacity. My ears¡­ ¡®Pah!!¡¯ With a resonating boom, his pistol, now in my own possession, empties its contents into the skull of the kneeling ogre. His hefty body topples towards the bullet''s trajectory, leaving his snapped leg in an even more displeasing condition. Oh well, at least his wailing has been silenced¡­ ¡°Much better¡­¡± Taking a handkerchief from my pocket, I dust off the handle of the pistol and place it next to the ugly corpse of my victim; Not that such an action is even necessary in this fossil of a world. Unlike the picturesque display from anime, the state of these corpses is grotesque manifestations, most unappealing to look upon. The gunshot wound oozes vile liquids, the bodies are twitching and drooling, and the bowels of all three have evacuated their contents entirely. This is the true face of death, that I am all too aware of. Just as it was on that day¡­ ¡°I am sorry¡­ Gwyn¡­¡± (I should hurry up and leave¡­) If I loiter in this place for too long, the Guild will catch up to me. I refuse to deal with any more useless events. Springing this bandit encounter upon me is enough for one day. Valuable time is being wasted. (Hrmm¡­ I feel like I am forgetting something¡­) ¡°HOOOORRRREEEEEENCE!!!¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± (That explains it¡­) After denuding the brat so as to make her an appropriate distraction, I seem to have pocketed her wardrobe. It appears that she has deduced thus far. Alas, a necessary evil¡­ ¡°Here¡­¡± ¡°Mu! Ahhhh! I knew it!!¡± Raising her arms in some sort of furious gesticulation, the brat snatches the dress from my hands in a huff. It is blatantly obvious that this child is displeased, so it is in my best interest to diffuse this outburst at its source. ¡°I found it on the ground¡­¡± ¡°LIES!!¡± Well, it was worth a shot¡­ ¡°I can¡¯t believe you. You used me as bait, didn¡¯t you!? You fucking bastard!!¡± ¡°To protect my supplies¡­¡± ¡°Nng¡­!?!?¡± Hmmm¡­ That is absolutely not the answer she was looking for. The extreme rage I am sensing from this brat is a potent cocktail. Still, she wishes to hear neither truth nor lies¡­ I am rather confounded. ¡°I apologize¡­?¡± ¡°Nk!?¡± Nope. That just made things worse. This trial and error thing is not working in the slightest. How troublesome¡­ ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ Having lost any willingness to mediate this argument, I instead prepare myself to depart. What this fledgling brat thinks, is of little concern of mine, as long as it does not hinder my journey. In the first place, the terms in which we met were of too dissonant a circumstance. There is little room to maneuver when faced with a wall of such fortitude. Not that I would even put in the effort to begin with, considering how little reward there is in it for me. ¡°Hurry up and get on¡­¡± (Wait, where did that brat go now¡­?) The few seconds while I turn my back to board the coach is all it takes for her to disappear. I sincerely regret taking that half-pint tyrant along with me¡­ As I hop off the coach to find out what kind of bothersome thing she has decided to pull now, I catch sight of the little devil meddling with the three dead musketeer¡¯s cargo. ¡®Tch!¡¯ What kind of afternoon hero does this fool think she is!? If I had wanted to get mixed up in the business of other people, I would have graciously gone and saved those little nuisances myself! The fact is, I had specifically left them locked up on purpose. How does this imbecile even think this is going to play out? I have no room for six dirty orphans in my coach, you know¡­ ¡°Oi! What are you doing?¡± ¡°What does it look like I¡¯m doing!? I¡¯m helping these poor children. Not that I¡¯d expect you to understand!¡± ¡°Is that so¡­¡± This brat barely even stops to acknowledge my presence, just keeps fiddling with the keys she has apparently pilfered from one of the cadavers. The coach is obviously locked, and the key ring has enough keys on it for this to take a half an hour. Why would someone even need this many keys? ¡°You are wasting valuable time¡­¡± Instead of a retort, I am simply treated to silence as a reply. How ironic¡­ There is no benefit to saving these brats, but attempting to explain the futility behind the hope she is so desperately clinging to is a feat beyond my means. I cannot afford to wait here any longer. Any fame or glory I might be rewarded with because of this would instead become a detriment towards my ability to move freely throughout this world. I want nothing to do with those kinds of heroic sentiments. Being weighed down by one brat is more than enough to deal with as it is, let alone an additional six. It is just like I thought, there is no foreseeable benefit to be had in this situation. ¡°This is pointless¡­¡± ¡°How!? What is pointless about this? What¡¯s so bad about wanting to save a couple of kids!? Whatever¡­ I don¡¯t care what you say, I¡¯m saving them, whether you like it, or not!¡± Or so she says¡­ It appears that finding the correct key is not going as well as she had hoped. Perhaps she will get tired of it and give up¡­ Somehow, taking who I am dealing with into consideration, that seems highly unlikely. (Should I use [Task]? Hmmm¡­ I have a bad feeling¡­) This is just the kind of situation where I would expect that person to pull something. Mark that, there is no way they would let it slide. Let me think about this for a bit¡­ Purely in a hypothetical sense¡­ If I were forced to save these brats, how would I even transport them? No matter how appealing it may sound, I cannot simply make them walk the whole way there. I might be able to fit a few on the roof, but there is only enough room for three at best. One could ride on the side step if they were to stand the whole time. Another could probably sit up in the front with that brat and myself. That only leaves one¡­ Nah, there is just not enough room¡­ ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ ¡°Nope¡­ No matter how I think about it, there is no way my coach could carry all these kids¡­ Hmmm¡­ I doubt any of them would know how to ride a horse either¡­¡± ¡°What are you mumbling about? Why can¡¯t we just switch to the larger coach?¡± ¡°No¡­ I do not want to draw any attention from any associates these fellows might have. Besides, it would take far too long to transfer all of my supplies from one coach to the other. The Guild is going to come looking for me at any moment, so I want to get as far away as I can in the meantime.¡± ¡°Why would the Guild be looking for you?¡± ¡°Because of what I did back in¡­ Mn¡­!?¡± ¡­ Phew¡­ That was close¡­ I had apparently started thinking out loud there for a moment. This sneaky brat was playing along, so I even nearly let slip some confidential information. What a terribly dangerous habit. Even if there would be no real problem, thanks to [Hypnosis], I would rather not play with fire if it can be avoided. Letting this child know about the fate of Fort Wayfield is an awful idea. Only bad things could come of it¡­ ¡°No reason¡­¡± ¡°Lies! You¡¯re clearly lying! What did you even do!? Why is the Guild after you, anyway? It can¡¯t be because of Grandma Bee since nobody knows she even lived there. Was it because of those explosions?¡± ¡°Silence¡­¡± The child¡¯s spine shivers visibly, brought about by the graveness in my voice, while a glimmering crystal of sweat traces its way across her fair features. Her drive having been smothered, she returns to fiddling with the lock. I will not pander to your misguided inquisitiveness, brat¡­ Know this¡­ Now, where was I¡­? Ah, right. Hypothetically speaking, I cannot see myself being able to ferry these children to Bronzegate. This is beside the fact that doing such a thing would bring me whole hosts of unwanted attention. Verily¡­ Now that I have thought this through, my initial opinion on this matter stands; I refuse to take part in such a downright inane act of petty heroism. Illogical¡­ ¡°[Command]. [Task]!¡± It was obvious that this was coming. This brat¡¯s pipe dreams are becoming a thorn in my side. So much so, that I am tempted to leave her here with this other useless fodder. However, I must curb this temptation, as it is not in my best interest. ¡°Cease this endeavor at once. You will not concern yourself with these children.¡± There¡­ Problem solved¡­ ¡°[Release]!¡± ¡°{[C0mM4nD]!1 [T4sK]!1!}¡± Eh¡­? ¡°{SaV3 tH3M!!1!}¡± Ehhh!? ¡°{[Re1E4s3]!1!}¡± (Whoa, whoa, whoa! What gives you the right to use my [Commands]!? Or rather, how does that even work!?) This is an entirely unexpected development¡­ Well, I cannot say it is entirely unexpected. But still, this brat has totally accepted the [Task] given by that demon-eyed girl, like it came straight from my own mouth. What the hell is going on? (¡°You¡­ What have you done?¡±) ¡°{Wh4T n3EdeD t0 B3 dOn3!!!1!}¡± (¡°That¡­ Wrong! I could not care less about why you did it. I want to know how someone like you is even able to give [Commands] in the first place?¡±) Not only are you simply a figment of my imagination, but I have also specifically designated them to only respond to my own voice. Does that mean that it was me that gave the [Command] just then, without even noticing? I am utterly confused. ¡°{ImPr3s5eD!?1?}¡± (¡°And now you gloat?¡±) The tiny devil is sitting on the now empty driver¡¯s seat, watching over the brat¡¯s frantic display of heroism. I had been half expecting, and half dreading this turn of events, and sure enough, it has finally come to pass. The fact that I could almost predict her arrival is a good sign. Once I am fully capable of foreseeing when she should appear, I can factor it into my calculations when I am planning ahead. This demon child seems to only show up when I have to make some kind of moral decision. In that case, if I cut this choice out of the equation entirely, there would then be no chance for her to get in my way. A streamlined plan of action, void of any pesky flags. What a dreamlike concept¡­ Hehehe¡­ ¡­ ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ In the meantime, there is no helping it. I do not feel confident going up against that little devil in this kind of situation. Should I just take this brat and run¡­? Hmmm¡­ I sincerely doubt I would be let off the hook so easily. Do I really have to accept this escort quest, no matter what? I cannot help but feel like I am playing right into somebody¡¯s hands¡­ Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm¡­ ¡°Fine¡­¡± Removing the hidden knife from its resting place, strapped to my ankle, I raise it above my head in preparation. Standing here waiting while this idiot tries every single one of those damn keys would take ages, so I think I will try a more direct approach. ¡®Cccrrraaack!!¡¯ Using the butt of the blade, I smash the rusty-looking padlock as hard as I can, which snaps at the joint. The sudden act causes the brat, who is just about to try another key, to jump back in fright, letting out a small ¡°ya!¡± sound at the same time. ¡°Wha¡­!? W-warn me if you¡¯re gonna pull something like that, why don¡¯t you! You almost gave me a heart attack, you bastard!¡± ¡®Tch¡¯ ¡°Noisy brat¡­¡± ¡°Mu¡­! There it is again! How many times do I have to tell you? My name is Fern! Don¡¯t call me a brat!¡± If you do not want to be called a brat, then maybe you should try not to act like a brat¡­ Though I would still call you it since you annoy me¡­ Ignoring the fuming brat, I finish removing the shattered remains of the lock, and yank open the coach door, revealing a group of ragged children. Each one of them is shoddily dressed, dirty, and appear to be undernourished. If I was going to be trafficking a bunch of kids around with me, this is certainly how I would envision their appearance. Their pitiful forms are huddled together in fear, and they flinch from the sound of the door suddenly being yanked open. Since these brats have no idea who I am, they also have no bearing as to my motives, so to them, I could just be another villain come to ferry them to their dooms. The fact that I am wielding a knife in my right-hand does not seem to be helping the matter¡­ How bothersome¡­ Just like I thought¡­ Chapter XIII | Forest of Gears, Grains of Paltry Looking back upon the brittle tinder that is my life, the dissimilarity between these children and myself is as plain as night and day. You simply cannot compare their thoughts and actions with that of when I was around their age. You will always come up with a null value. So in the end, what am I? How did I become this fortified husk that roams the land; Not quite a man, not quite a beast. This is one of the questions that has ruled my consciousness, ever since I first picked up a book and learned of what kinds of things humans really are¡­ Of course, to no avail¡­ It might seem needlessly philosophical to be contemplating these pivotal factors of life. However, I am looking at it from more of a clinical standpoint. The first step in battle is to know one¡¯s enemy. I will never rise from this black bog until I am able to take that first step. Well¡­ Whether I live in the stricken past or the merciless future, I shall always be shadowed by the vileness of the [Black Corona]. This I am sure¡­ ¡°Hey hey, look Mister! It¡¯s Bronzegate! Yay! We¡¯re finally home!¡± Like a weasel or a snake, the shrimpy brat that lays draped across three sets of laps, worms around in a rambunctious frenzy. Having caught sight of our destination, it appears to be beyond the mortal capabilities of this annoying pest to keep herself under control. With no other options, the results of the previous event have turned out thus: I have unwillingly received an obnoxious baggage, amounting to six pesky nuisances of various shapes and sizes. Each, as bothersome as the last. I will just have to think of this as a compulsory escort quest. Hence, points may be deducted depending upon the state, or quantity of the goods remaining upon arrival. Though that may be the case, the size of the reward for rescuing all six of these brats from an armed guard, and dragging them back to their damn orphanage will be negligible nonetheless. Rather, the demerits of this venture will most certainly outweigh anything like that. Which is why I was planning on leaving these brats back there in the first place. All my carefully planned steps somehow land on loose soil, which crumbles beneath my feet like a crag eroding into the sea. But I will not falter. No, despite having been saddled with even more unnecessary burden, I will persevere. After I anonymously drop this rabble off at the orphanage, I can be on my way to the market at last. I will pretend like it never even happened. This method should cause the least amount of friction, and allow me to cover my tracks. It is not without drawbacks, however, as it was necessary to apply [Hypnosis] upon each of the six brats. To them, it will seem as if they were saved by a nameless, featureless hero. Thus, my great deeds will tragically go unsung. Which is just how things should be. I do not need a bunch of loudmouthed brats spreading rumors and alerting anyone with more than half a brain of my presence¡­ ¡°We¡¯re hooome, we¡¯re hooome, we¡¯re hoooome!¡± ¡°Quit squirming, brat!¡± ¡®Thump¡¯ ¡°Bu!¡± Using my right fist, I bop the forehead of the incessant chatterbox which rests on my lap. As there had not been enough room for all of them, the youngest of the six was chosen to become a makeshift lap-warmer. Unfortunately, the off button seems to be malfunctioning. ¡°Ueee, bonked! Temr¡¯s going to dieeeeeeeeee! Noooo!¡± Death can be arranged, if that is what you really want¡­ ¡°Hush, Temr! Do not cause trouble for the kind gentleman who has rescued us.¡± The oldest child seems to have the least temperamental personality of the lot; A certain urchin brat included. The speed at which she has adapted to the situation has been very helpful. As it stands, I am not the most articulate of persons. If it was not for her, I would have lost much more time explaining the entire situation. Not to mention trying to get these recent abductees to believe a word I say. She seems to be the kind of person who would be quick to make friends. At least, that is what I think. Whether they honestly trusted me, or not, I still would have applied [Hypnosis] upon them. Carelessness will only beget further misfortune¡­ As we near the looming construct that is the walled town of Bronzegate, the murmur and bustle begins to pick up. The traffic here, even more so than in Fort Wayfield, is steady and droning. Coupled with the familiar lack of security checks, I feel like this country has its priorities in disarray. The walls of Bronzegate are quite similar to those from Fort Wayfield. They may be slightly taller and wider but, in structure, they are the same. The gate, however, is something much different. With an intimidating maw, the arch, shaped like the top half of a gear, is paneled with brass-colored sheets that look to be able to block out even the strongest and wildest of beastkin. This town is rather aptly named, it seems. ¡°We¡¯re almost there, we¡¯re almost there! Hurray!¡± (Travelling with such unruly company really takes a toll on my psyche¡­) Having previously milked these brats for information regarding this place, I already know where to leave them. Off the main road, in the western residential district, a certain orphanage rests upon a dingy terrace. It is removed from the street and hidden by a row of trees, but the gate lies adjacent to the sidewalk, so it is not too difficult to find. To avoid detection, I pull up to the stand of trees, rather than the gate itself. My mission clear has finally come¡­ ¡°Get out¡­¡± ¡°¡°Ehhhhh!?¡±¡± Like some kind of comedy routine, an instant reply comes from over half of my passengers. For some reason, the urchin brat is included in this number. This has nothing to do with you, so why are you chiming in as well? ¡°But¡­ Weren¡¯t we going to bring them all the way there? The Orphan Matron will certainly want to thank the one responsible for saving the children.¡± ¡°Hell no¡­ T-too much bother.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± Why would you care anyway? Are you so shallow that you require such self-gratification? How ridiculous, especially coming from a street urchin like you. Do not tempt me child; I will dispose of you if you become too much of a burden. ¡°But, but¡­ Can¡¯t Mister come in for just a few minutes? Temr wants to show everyone the Mister who saved us.¡± You cannot even perceive what I look like right now, thanks to [Hypnosis]. Besides, going into that place would require me to also apply [Hypnosis] upon each and every person I should meet. Just thinking about that makes me exhausted. Not to mention, the side-effects of using that much power would be highly detrimental. ¡°Um¡­ I would also like to properly thank our gracious savior inside, but¡­ If that is too much, then I guess there is no helping it.¡± Even the oldest one is saying such things? You disappoint me oldest one¡­ ¡°I am a-afraid I c-cannot¡­ For I have m-much left I must take c-care of¡­¡± Guh¡­ Why do I even need an excuse for this? Just get out of here already, you vile pests! This little circus show is drawing far too much attention as it is. If you selfish brats continue to linger like this, it will eventually be necessary for me to use force. For that matter, why have I not done this in the first place? (Using [Hypnosis] in public is dangerous¡­ I suppose that is the foremost reason¡­) ¡°Very well. We shall be on our way. Come, everyone, let¡¯s not cause the kind gentleman any more trouble.¡± ¡°¡°Okaaay!¡±¡± Finally¡­ Freedom¡­ ¡®Phew¡­¡¯ ¡°Hmph! Don¡¯t act all big, you jerk¡­ If it wasn¡¯t for me, you definitely would have left those girls back there to die!¡± That is certainly a plausible assertion; Though, while that was my initial intention, I find it hard to believe that demon-eyed girl would have let such a thing pass. Still, your sore remarks do not interest me in the slightest. As of this moment, I shall be putting all of my concentration into the next steps I should take. This includes the acquisition of funds, buying the things I need, and finding a place to stay for the night. Due to funding being a prerequisite for everything else, the only logical route starts from there. Now, if only they have some kind of casino in this town I will be set¡­ ------------ The metallic clatter of a dense forest of gears beckons ominously around me, as I unsteadily become attuned to my bearings. How or why I have suddenly ended up in this place escapes me. But from what I can tell, it is akin to some sort of exaggerated clocktower. The entirety of the room is draped in darkness, save a small amount of light leaking through a crack in the ceiling. I can just barely make out the top few rungs of a ladder from so far away, so I assume that the light I see in the distance is seeping through the gaps in a trapdoor. I still have little idea as to what is going on. From what I remember, I was just about to leave, after having completed that escort quest¡­ And that about sums it up¡­ There are no memories between when I picked up the reins, to having ended up here. Like some kind of time slip, or something¡­ ¡°Hmmm¡­ Let me think about this a little¡­ Is this perhaps because of [Falling Owl]? No, that seems unlikely. Whatever the case, I doubt that fellow would be capable of bringing me to someplace as obscure as this¡­ Then that leaves¡­¡± A dream¡­ If I am dreaming then I must be asleep. Taking into consideration what I have learned last time this sort of thing happened, it is safe to say that moving around carelessly in this state would indeed be a terrible idea. ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ ¡°How bothersome¡­¡± Just when I was finally getting somewhere I have to put up with more of this shit¡­ ¡°This must be¡­ Bullying? It is, right? Give me a break. I do not have time for¡­¡± ¡®Kchik¡¯ ¡®Creeeeeak¡¯ (Ah¡­ It seems my time of fraught introspection has come to an end¡­) Along with the stirring sounds of movement, the hatch slowly opens, letting light wash over the surroundings. Just like I thought, this room is one big mechanical construct. Even the floor is covered with massive gears, while I stand upon a thin, suspended catwalk. The overwhelming magnitude of the scale is quite a sight to behold. Whilst I am in the midst of scanning the room, a figure drops down from above, clad in a pure black, metallic sheen. The collision of mesh catwalk and armor resounds in an echoing shrill. (So the stage has now been set between this dark, forbidding knight, and myself¡­) ¡°Finally, we meet!¡± The astringent, grainy voice lends itself to the overall menacing aura emitted from this armored entity. If my condition were not such that it is, I might very well be intimidated by this dangerous seeming fellow. In the end, the whole scene feels a bit damp, as I have no context for this encounter. (Is this perhaps one of those precognition types of scenarios? I do not remember having such specs¡­) ¡°Verily, it does appear so¡­¡± (Hoooh? I spoke? Or rather, I did not speak, but yet have spoken? And with such bravado. How intriguing¡­) Actually, upon further investigation, my wardrobe seems to be that of the [Raven¡¯s Garb]. In which case, I am currently assuming the false identity of [Falling Owl]. Then this person is most likely a member of the Guild of Judgement. Hmmm¡­ I do not feel comfortable with where this is heading¡­ ¡°Though, I must say¡­ You certainly do not know when to give up¡­¡± ¡°Hunting is an important part of the process.¡± What a troublesome fellow¡­ With a crawling pace, the distance between us decreases, as my counterpart slowly draws near. I would obversely retreat from this advancing villain, except that moving is not advisable when I cannot predict the consequences. Instead, I shall implicitly observe my opponent''s actions and mannerisms. Unlikely as it is, there is always a chance that I could discover a weakness of some such. I have low expectations though¡­ ¡°I had heard you were going to be a difficult character, but frankly, to have followed my trail this far is a bit excessive.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t waste your breath. You won¡¯t escape this time; I know your tricks!¡± ¡°I admire your attention to detail¡­¡± A haunting specter¡­ Adorning two vicious-looking scythes upon its back. That is just about the only way I can describe this person. How would someone even fight with two of those things anyway? That is a two-handed weapon, you know¡­ ¡°Where might your squad be, I wonder¡­? Is it a good idea to come here without backup?¡± ¡°Those fools would only be a distraction against someone like you. Besides, I wanted to take my time, nice and slowly, picking all the meat from your bones piece by piece. I just can¡¯t enjoy myself when there are other idiots getting in my way. Ha ha ha ha¡­ Don¡¯t worry, I promise it¡¯ll be fun.¡± ¡°¡­¡± This person is definitely one of those; And a hardcore one, I might add¡­ How unpleasant¡­ Just how did this me end up in this kind of situation? Fortunately, this is not an ideal combat location for someone who uses those kinds of weapons. The narrow metal catwalk, hanging from the ceiling on supports, also has a metal guardrail. It is simply infeasible to handle something so massive in such minimal space. Be that as it may, I also do not have enough room to dodge if this person were to make a plainly vertical swing, barring a backstep that is. However, that is not even an option in this case, as it involves being able to move in the first place. Perhaps I should just let myself be captured? Since this is either a dream or some sort of vision, I can just go with the flow. As long as I do not consciously move my body, [Falling Owl] should behave himself. Although, this is all merely baseless speculation on my part. I sincerely doubt this person would be willing to accept an out-and-out surrender. Let us not sour the good mood we have going here. It might even be possible to glean some useful insight into the events that have led up to this particular point in time. ¡°Oh well, to think our little game of cat and mouse has finally come to an end. I was really hoping to get to know you better.¡± ¡°Ah, what a coincidence. My babies have been dying for the chance to get to know you better as well. Let¡¯s hope you won¡¯t be a disappointment.¡± Nope. This fellow is useless, aberrant even. There is little point in even trying to speak with this pervert¡­ ¡°Shall we get this over with?¡± ¡°Gladly!¡± Removing one of the scythes from their back, the bloodthirsty knight grips it firmly. This person¡¯s intent to kill is telegraphed quite vividly from their purely attack-oriented battle stance. The distance between us having been reduced to about four meters, it appears our conversation has ended. ¡°Now, bleed for me!!¡± With a heavy thrust, the scythe shoots straight towards me. It does not connect with my being; However, I can feel the wind pressure as it is forced out of the way at extreme speeds. Using the elastic momentum, the scythe is then drawn backward at a higher velocity. Again, the elastic muscle fibers are used to store the energy, while at the same time, the knight¡¯s body pivots and launches itself into the air. Next, adding the returning forces of the elasticity onto its momentum, the scythe travels in a deadly overhand crescent around the somersaulting knight. Thanks to the technique, the blade slices through the air faster than I can even keep track of. In such a confined space, the fact that this much momentum could be obtained is utter absurdity. Despite the personality, the skill of this person is unquestionably formidable. Of course, I am cleanly severed down the middle. This is inevitable since I cannot dodge such a ridiculous thing, regardless of whether the situation was to allow it. Just what part of that was entertaining? Well, no matter. Instead of an agonizing death, I immediately awake in a foreign bed, completely unharmed. ¡°Unpleasant¡­¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.Was it a dream, or a vision? I am leaning towards a vision. So who was it¡­? Who sent me this vision, and for what purpose did they send it? Or is it just another one of the many byproducts of the [Black Corona]? I would really like some answers¡­ Furthermore, where have I ended up now? This place appears to be some kind of mass sleeping area. There are many tiny beds in a row on both sides of the room, each one separated by short dresser drawers. Out of all possibilities, it is likely that I have been brought to the orphanage upon passing out. Unsurprising¡­ Are all of these cutscenes non-negotiable? Is there some kind of higher order to this universe that finds it amusing to place me in situations entirely unbefitting of someone such as myself? What imbecile is constantly trying to override all of the careful and meticulous planning that I have been doing? I want to meet them and let them know just how unsatisfactory I believe their intentions are. But first, I wish to leave this place before anyone notices. I absolutely refuse to be any part of this foolish charade. The window, the window¡­ ¡°Ah! You woke up. Thank goodness! I was so worried when the children said that something had happened to the kind gentlemen who saved them. Thankfully you had just passed out¡­ Um¡­ Sir?¡± I can still make it. There is still time. Yes, just ignore that idiot and escape through the window. Then I can search for Tomorrow and the coach and finally be rid of this dreadful place¡­ Fruitless effort¡­ (Ah, how bothersome¡­) ¡°How bothersome¡­¡± ¡°E-excuse me¡­?¡± ¡°E-er, no¡­ I mean¡­¡± ¡°Are you quite alright Sir? You still look a little pale.¡± Do not patronize me, you ingratiating succubus. Ugh¡­ Woe is this day that I must fraternize such as this. Who do you think you are, a saint or something? By no means am I thankful for your having brought me here. Because of this unfortunate turn of events, I now have matters I must attend to in this place. I cannot leave any traces of the deeds that have transpired. I was hoping to avoid this, but it seems that placing [Hypnosis] upon these individuals has become obligatory. ¡°I am fine now¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± This woman, is she supposed to be the orphan matron? Her blond hair is done up like a businesswoman, but she still looks sort of young for someone who runs this type of establishment. Perhaps she is just a hired hand? No¡­ On second thought, this woman is one of those, right? An elf¡­? Her ears are exactly like I would have imagined of their kind. In that case, she could possibly be older than she looks. At the very least, I am now fairly certain that this is, in fact, the orphan matron that those brats had been prattling on about. Nevertheless, I have no business with this person besides altering her memories. I would also like to know how many of the occupants of this orphanage might have seen my face. No trouble¡­ ¡°W-who b-brought me here?¡± It is unlikely that those scrawny brats could have dragged my unconscious body all the way here. That said, this small-framed woman would also have been incapable of such a feat. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I told Hill, the man who helps out around this orphanage to carry you. It was no problem at all.¡± ¡°I see¡­ I h-hope I did not s-startle any of the c-children¡­¡± Hmm¡­ Three errors in a single sentence. I really need to practice speaking out loud more. As I am now, my speech pattern is too conspicuous. Being a recluse for so many years seems to have caused strange discrepancies in the way I talk. ¡°Rather than startled, the children seemed ecstatic to have a visitor after quite some time. I had trouble shooing them away as they wouldn¡¯t stop crowding around the bed in curiosity.¡± ¡°Is that so¡­¡± Or in other words, every single one of the children in this orphanage has seen my face. To err on such a tragic scale¡­ Is my luck stat zero? All of my points must have gone into intellect¡­ ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ My best course of action will be to start with this Hill fellow. Simple deduction suggests that he will pose the greatest threat, and therefore should get him out of the way as soon as possible. ¡°H-hill, was it?¡± ¡°Yes, Hill is the one who helped move you here once I¡¯d heard that you¡¯d become unconscious. If you¡¯d like to meet him, he should be watching the children.¡± How favorable. Having everyone together sure makes things easier on my part. ¡°I would like t-to thank him¡­ If at all p-possible¡­¡± ¡°Of course! Besides, the children would love it if you¡¯d introduce yourself.¡± Pushy woman! Her words are coated with a sickly sweet nectar that entices the listener into complacency. If I was not always on guard against such things, I might just have been thoroughly drawn into her pace. This is not good. Change of plans. The most logical conclusion would be to finish off this sly-mouthed woman while we are still alone. The control she holds over a conversation is much more of a threat than brute strength could ever be. (To have such a skill with words would be a very useful thing indeed¡­) ¡°Horrence Trapp¡­¡± ¡°Parden?¡± ¡°M-my name¡­¡± ¡°Ah! My, where are my manners?¡± Her look of genuine distress is curtailed by the myriad of less obvious hidden objectives she undoubtedly holds. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Trapp. My name is Meluid Telsy. I am Matron to the children of this establishment. I¡¯m honored to welcome you to our orphanage.¡± Along with her introduction, the harpy reaches her imposing talons towards my being as a show of cordiality. There is a significant pressure from her firm stance as if she has just drawn a sword and is resting the tip upon my throat. How is this person a matron of children when her demeanor is as cutthroat as someone who braves the stormy seas alongside the slick sharks of commerce? It is genuinely challenging to deny her offer. Challenging¡­ But not impossible. Rather than falling prey to her goading, I curtly bow in reply. All the while keeping strict watch as to how my opponent should react. Without missing a beat, she returns my gesture. A benevolent smile graces her visage as she neatly couples her palms together. Even a machine would have had trouble saving face in that sort of situation. Frankly¡­ This woman is a monster. All the more reason for me to slay the beast while it is alone. ------------ As I make my way through the creaking corridors of the facility, I am made aware of one thing above all else. While it does have a very lived-in atmosphere, the meager state of this place is most evident. There is obviously little funding behind this ramshackle establishment; With any paltry sum it may receive certainly not going towards repairs or renovations. It is becoming ever clearer as to how this woman has ended up the way that she is. At the end of a long, narrow hallway, two large doors sit crooked on their hinges. Beyond them is supposed to be the main hall, but even this holiest of rooms just barely makes a passing grade. Actually, on second thought, it definitely fails¡­ If I make any wrong moves, this building is liable to collapse upon itself. Though that would be the end of my troubles, I have assets here which I would rather not leave behind. I had best get this over with quickly, and quietly. In the center of the large room lies a great table, which in comparison to the rest of the furniture I have seen around, is in moderately good condition. If this was the only object one were to see whilst visiting, it is understandable that one might possibly be fooled. Many little heads bounce feverishly about, whilst their bodies sit surrounding the grand-ish table. It appears that all the miserable little orphans have been gathered into this one room, as they rummage about the table¡¯s contents. That said, upon the table are only heaps of sticks, whittled down into serviceable lengths. Though, the children seem to be sufficiently amused by such things. Some of them are making pictures out of the twigs, while some of the older ones are busy weaving them into shapes to wear as makeshift jewelry. (How facile¡­) Though I have tried to ignore it, my attention is unfortunately drawn towards one end of the table, where a hideous ogre sits frolicking amongst the children. The sheer incongruity of this scene has caused my faculties to lag for several seconds despite the heavy upgrade they have received since arriving in this world. I assume that abomination must be the creature that carried me into this mess in the first place. What was it¡­ Hill or something? This ogre is aptly named to the point of utter non-commitment. ¡°The largest man I have ever met¡±, does nothing to explain the scale of this monster¡¯s imposing proportions. There is easily the volume of fourteen of these children contained within its frame. Yet somehow, the children seem wholly unconcerned with such matters, treating this monstrosity as they would their favorite uncle who has finally come for a visit. It is a most grotesque display. So much so, that somewhere deep inside me, there is a primal urge to kill this monstrous beast. Preferably with some kind of crudely fashioned spear or ax¡­ (Brace yourself, Wade. Do not give in to such baser instincts, no matter how tempting they may be...) Somehow managing to control my outrage at this detestable scene, it suddenly dawns upon me that the man named Hill may, in fact, be what this world refers to as a ¡°Wintir¡±; Or in simpler terms, a half-giant. Frankly, his frame and skeletal structure are beyond what can sanely be classified as human to begin with, so there is no wonder I am thrown off by his appearance. This poses a problem. Is a Wintir going to be susceptible to [Hypnosis]? If I consider the possibility that [Hypnosis] only worked on that witch due to her having a human as her base form, then there is no conclusive evidence to suggest that it will work should I use it on this fellow. Then again, if I waste time contemplating such things, I will lose the initiative. Most of the children have yet to notice my presence. It is not as though I made any effort to conceal myself. I quite blatantly strolled right through those double doors. Rather, these children simply have an abnormal amount of interest in their handicrafts. Not that I can complain. This way, it will be easier to catch all of their attention at once. (From the look of the light streaming through that bleak looking window, I would say it is about noon. I should hurry if I want to make it to the shops in time.) ¡°Good Afternoon!¡± With a somewhat forceful greeting, each of the little nuisances that had been completely absorbed with their business, turn towards my voice. Upon doing so, each one, in turn, becomes locked in a powerful hypnotic trance. Even Hill stops in his tracks as he catches sight of my visage. A terrible pressure builds within my head, much more vivid than any other time I have used this ability. Momentarily, my skin begins emitting wafts of steam, as the symbolic veins of darkness stretch themselves substantially beyond their usual destination around my temples. Further and further, eventually reaching all the way down my arms to my fingertips. When enough poison accumulates inside my body, the process of transferring this malicious power into a hypnotic mist commences. Most of the children are induced with only a mild usage of power, while a select few drain a moderate amount instead. The reason for this discrepancy is most likely related to the child¡¯s race, as the only ones that require additional trouble are the ones with obvious inhuman traits. The Wintir, on the other hand, requires a significant amount of mist to make a proper induction. So much so, that I start to doubt its efficaciousness against him in the first place. Just for this one man, a massive cloud of black particles is produced, filling the entire room with its ominous presence. All of the contents of this dark cloud are forcefully drawn into his eyes with the suction of a furious tornado. Once the mass is absorbed in its entirety, the Wintir¡¯s eyes dye the characteristic shade of black, before returning to their original white and hazel. The technique has been successfully applied. Though it took way more effort than usual. (My head is ringing. I feel extremely sick¡­ Damn ogre...) I have used this ability far too many times today. Alas, I had to cover my tracks. Now that I have applied [Hypnosis] upon the residents of this orphanage, I can safely go about my journey without having to worry about any of my information being leaked to outside sources. Incidentally, I have also secured a place to sleep tonight. Ingraining the standard [Commands] into a group is much more convenient than doing things individually. There is no need to repeat myself each and every time, as I do not use a specific subject when explaining what it is I want of them. Each believes I am speaking directly to them when I am in actuality speaking to the group as a whole. Thanks to this, the whole process is a breeze. ¡°[Release]!¡± Now released from the [Command] state, the children gradually begin to notice my presence. One by one, the snot-nosed little brats crowd around me in a malicious circle. ¡°Mr. Hero!¡± ¡°It¡¯s a real Hero! Hahaha.¡± ¡°Yay!¡± The brats clamor about like an unruly mob. One particular child even grabs my hand and shakes it about vigorously. These pathetic life forms have clearly not been trained properly. I have no time for this charade. ¡°Silence!!¡± With a roar, I defuse the entire situation. The children which had been so eager to invade my personal space, have shrunk back in terror from my outburst. Even the older children look rather distressed as they collect the smaller ones into their protective clusters. ¡°I am H-horrence Trapp.¡± Silence fills the entire room. Not a single one of these children have any idea how they should react. Even the Wintir remains in his chair, utterly baffled. Nevertheless, a certain urchin child seems to find her misplaced voice. ¡°A¡­ Are you retarded!? What kind of idiot scares a bunch of kids like that!? Was that supposed to be an introduction? That was freakin¡¯ messed up!¡± Like I have the time to spend on meaningless crap like that. These children are just numbers; Numbers with inconsequential values that could not possibly be any more irrelevant to me at the moment. If I waste even one millisecond more on these trashy brats, I will undoubtedly be swarmed by the Guild. If such a thing were to happen, this place would become a war zone. And you can bet that when that time comes, these useless orphans can kiss their asses goodbye. ¡°A-anyways¡­ Time to go.¡± Leaving these words, I turn to exit back through the double doors. The Orphan Matron is diligently standing to my right. Of course, I have her on [Mute], since her words are dangerous. She has a weird expression on her face; Consternation or some such. Not that I care. ¡°Wait, what!? Why!? We just got he...!¡± ¡°I n-need supplies.¡± The urchin brat tries to yap on about some useless nonsense, but I cut her off. She is becoming a thorn in my side. My headache is pounding, and her constant nagging is ripping right through me. If I could, I would put her on [Mute] as well. Though that might just give her another excuse to annoy me. As I make my way through the worn-out hallway, I am soon accompanied by a flock of bothersome creatures. One of these is the urchin brat, most likely having realized the futility of attempting to reason with someone like me. Apart from her, there is also a group of three children; One boy and two girls. ¡°W-what is this¡­?¡± Being followed by a bunch of orphans¡­ Am I the Pied Piper? This is really cumbersome. The girls are two of the ones that I rescued from those slave traders, one of them being the mouthy lap-warmer, and the other being the disappointing oldest one. The boy is just some random brat amongst those that were in the main hall. His dirty red hair has some kind of cat-ears sticking out. Is this brat supposed to be a Therianthrope? ¡°Is Mister shy?¡± The lap-warmer presents an utterly obtuse query. When I turn to give her a skeptical glare, she flinches and hides behind the oldest one. Even the urchin brat is looking at her with eyes that say ¡°Are you stupid?¡±... ¡°I-it¡¯s just that Mister always messes up his words, so Temr thought that maybe Mister is really shy.¡± So misguided... ¡°Also Mister didn¡¯t want to come inside earlier, even though he saved Temr. That must mean Mister was too shy to introduce himself, right?¡± This child is as dumb as a bag of stones. No wonder she got kidnapped. ¡°Pfft! Hahahahaa!! Did you hear that? She said you were shy! That¡¯s too funny! Kahaha!¡± Annoying¡­ Remind me later to severely punish this useless brat... Chapter XIV | Lens of Insipidity, Drop of Chaos Why are these brats still following me? I thought I took care of such lingering attachments earlier. The two youngest one¡¯s facial expressions show only the slightest of wariness and are otherwise filled with positive emotions. The oldest one has a strange mix of concern, wariness, and some other emotion which I cannot quite make out. This is perplexing. ¡°Is Mister going shopping? Temr can lead the way, you know! What¡¯s Mister gonna buy?¡± ¡°Noisy¡­¡± Rather than becoming discouraged, the two youngest instead laugh amongst themselves. It seems they are building an immunity to my poison tongue at a terrifying rate. If they will no longer be turned away with such subtle tactics, I will brandish an even more severe display of force. ¡°Oi, brats¡­¡± ¡°Eh? What is it, Mister?¡± Is this little one supposed to be their spokesperson? Neither of the other two has conversed directly to me this whole time. Whatever¡­ ¡°[Command]. [Task].¡± All of the children following me stand at attention. Wait¡­ Even the urchin child is listening attentively for my orders. I suppose it makes no difference whether she stays or leaves. I will just pick her up later. ¡°R-return to the orphanage at o-once. Remain t-there until I say o-otherwise.¡± I believe that is enough information. If I make the [Command] too exact, there might be some discrepancies. For instance, if I had said ¡°Remain seated¡±, it is quite likely they would have ignored any of their necessary bodily functions until I returned. That is just one example; Any number of things could go wrong. This is why I have to be vague when issuing commands. ¡°[Release].¡± Faithfully fulfilling my orders, the brats all make their way back into the orphanage. Even in this situation, they hold onto their cheery expressions firmly. For a couple of impoverished orphans, they sure are a positive bunch. This likely has to do with the skilled management of that shark woman. Speaking of which, I believe I left her on [Mute], did I not? Well... She will somehow survive. (Now then¡­) There are apparently no casinos in Bronzegate; Information I have gleaned from both those orphans and their Matron. This is rather unfortunate. And even in the case there was some kind of underground gambling house, there is little chance that an outsider like me would be able to locate it. My options are steadily dwindling. The only resources I currently have to make money are my coach, Tomorrow, the tailoring supplies, and my own knowledge. If I were to include that urchin brat into my assets, I could make money as a pimp or a slave trader... Selling someone who has the same face as my sister somehow makes me feel uncomfortable. ¡°Urk¡­¡± Suddenly the intensity of the flame on my chest increases exponentially. These accursed flames are dreadfully painful even whilst calm. When they flare up like this it becomes agonizing to the point that I am unable to suppress my voice. I still cannot pinpoint what exactly it is that causes these episodic bursts in intensity. However, it goes without saying that once I have figured it out, I will rid myself of it immediately. (Enough! I have no time for this¡­) Let me think¡­ I suppose I could just use [Hypnosis] to withdraw funds from the bank. This would be untraceable as long as I were to leave no records. There is little chance that this world has any means to capture video, which means I would not have to disguise my appearance. If careful, I could easily pull it off. I am reminded of that sickening clown¡¯s words. Undoubtedly, [Hypnosis] is a very powerful tool, and it is likely that I will be using it countless more times in the future. That said, is it appropriate in this instance to rely on such a thing? I am conflicted. But in the end, I must push ever forwards. (No use worrying about hypotheticals when there is a reaper on my tail¡­) Even whilst buffeted by doubts beyond measure, I take up the reins of Tomorrow, making my way to the only bank in Bronzegate. The bank is a rectangular building, wider than it is tall. Two expansive bay windows line the mustard-yellow front wall symmetrically, with the entrance lying nestled between them. The ornamentation featured along the borders is pleasant, if not a tad excessive. A tall brass clock stands next to the entrance, towering over the sidewalk menacingly. All the gears and gadgets lay bare, protected only by a glass screen. I have become accustomed to this type of narcissistic display of craftsmanship, what with all of the exposed mechanisms dotting the street corners. It is a fad that I cannot understand. But I have nonetheless grown inured of its candor. The bank¡¯s interior is scant any form of accents, unlike its outside counterpart. It has a very businesslike appeal. The walls are made of tall wooden panels, bordered by a neat trim, and a seating area is built into both bay windows. The room is very wide, yet very shallow, and a long band of counters spreads across its wake, separated by dividers to protect the customer¡¯s privacy. There is also an area leading further inside, though I am unable to view its contents at this angle. Multiple tellers sit behind the counter, so I pick the seemingly most unintelligent one to do business with. The line is negligible, as is this town¡¯s population to begin with. Although it is larger than Fort Wayfield, it is still a small countryside town. I suppose it is better than having to wait in line for a half-an-hour. ¡°Good Afternoon Sir. What is it that I can help you with today?¡± Spare me the drivel, you unremarkable NPC-like fellow. Your entire vapid existence up until this point has been a precursor to this very moment. Every mistake you have made has led you here. You are nothing but a swine, suckling upon your mother¡¯s teat, fattening yourself up for the slaughter. If anything, you should be proud that you have become such an unquestionably substandard individual, for it is this very reason that you have been chosen. Be of enough benefit to me, and you may continue your hideous life for years to come. (Err¡­ My thoughts seem to have gone off on a tangent. Perhaps stress is a factor? Anyways, I should be quick about this¡­) Using a negligible amount of power, I hastily bring the teller under my control. Despite the lack of effort required, a blinding pain surges through my optical stems upon completion. I have clearly reached the limit to this ability, at least for the present time. Accompanied by the pain, the color around me abruptly fades away. My surroundings have become a monochrome display, void of the presence of any distinguishable majesty. Even the illusory specters have become bland in appearance. This is quite an unfortunate time to be laden with such an inconvenient side-effect. No matter... I will simply have to differentiate the coinage by size and weight, rather than color. It is not like this fellow will try to cheat me in his current state, but I still feel averse to relying solely on something like trust. After applying my standard set of [Commands] to this nondescript fellow, I make to withdraw a sizable sum of money. ¡°[Comman¡­¡± ¡°Put the money in the bags!! This is a good ol¡¯ fashioned stick ¡®em up!¡± (You have got to be kidding me!) No sooner have I started my command to rob this bank with utmost discretion, when a group of legitimate bank robbers appears out of nowhere. This is literally the worst time for these idiots to have come here. Could they not have waited for me to be finished my own business before marching right in here like a pack of mental patients? Not that I am one to talk, but do these guys not realize that this will only lead to misfortune on their part? Do all the bandits of this world have balls of steel? I am speechless. In all, there are six. Three of them have rifles, two have pistols, and one of them has a sword on his belt. The sword carrier possesses multiple burlap sacks, which I assume are to contain the money. Each of them has cloth covering their mouth and nose to keep their identities hidden. They look more like highway bandits, rather than bank robbers. The obnoxiously loud fellow in the center is one of the pistol wielders. In fact, the scrawny looking man holds two pistols, one in each hand. His appearance is very spaghetti western. I dare say he might be their leader, but he still looks like a fool to me. ¡°Nobody move!!¡± A few of the other customers had been hoping to sneak away in the commotion. Sadly, they were easily caught by these hoodlums before they could get anywhere. But really¡­ This guy is contradicting himself¡­ ¡°Anyone who doesn¡¯t wanna get shot, get on your knees over by the wall! If you so much as move a muscle, I¡¯ll turn every one of ya into bits and pieces!¡± Out of the six robbers, the leader-esque fellow giving the orders points one of his pistols towards the right wall. A mob of terrified looking customers accumulates at the indicated area just like they are told. I join them noncommittally; I am not in any kind of danger, but I would like to avoid drawing any unwanted attention. ¡°Except for you! You get to fill these bags with money. Aren¡¯t you lucky?¡± Mr. Leader decides to get one of the tellers to fill the bags. He chooses the exact same teller that I chose. It must be his destiny to fork over money to bank robbers. I will refrain from doing anything for the moment. Let me just see where things go from here. Having gained control over the situation, the bank robbers divide into groups as they begin the next stage in their plans. Two of the rifle wielders stand guard over the hostages, while the rest follow the teller deeper into the bank¡¯s interior. As for the two watchmen, one of them is a muscular brute with not a strand of hair on his head. The other has a musketeer¡¯s hat with mid-lengthed greasy dark hair. His eyes have a despicable glint in them, housing a violent nature no doubt. The way he keeps ogling the female hostages is considerably deviant. Every time they catch his eye, they shudder in utter repugnance. (I hope this guy manages to hold it together¡­) As long as this greasy bastard can keep it in his pants, I can bide my time here disguised as a hostage. There is nothing that says I have to especially stop him in the case that he is unable to though. The only problem is, I want to keep things moving along smoothly. They may be a bunch of trash mobs with toilet water for brains, but as of yet, their plan has gone without a hitch. I could even be out of this mess within the hour. No matter what, I want nothing to do with the Guild of Judgement. It has been a few minutes since the main group split off and left these two kind gentlemen behind. I am growing weary of this charade. Now that I think about it, the longer I spend waiting here aimlessly, the closer the Guild of Judgement gets to catching me. If I am at a loss either way, I might as well choose the option that prevents any direct interaction with the Guild. (Even so¡­ Having so many witnesses is a terrible misfortune on my part...) Not to mention, this lack of colors is severely limiting my depth perception. My brain is having trouble differentiating between things that are shadows, and things that are just dark to start with. ever, this is not to say that I am without depth perception entirely. Although everything around me has become grey-scale, there are many different shades of grey. These contrasting shades allow me to decipher very basic scale and depth, but they require constant manual calculations since my brain is not designed for solely grey-scale. In other words, I have to actually think about wanting to know the depth of something, instead of my brain simply doing it for me. Even if I had just one eye, as long as I could see colors, I would still be better off than I am at this moment. To fight with such a large disadvantage would be foolhardy, if not for the fact that I cannot possibly be killed. The only thing I really have to worry about is the other hostages. There are twelve of us in total, including me. This is a number well beyond what I feel comfortable using [Hypnosis] on after everything I have gone through today. But¡­ That does not concern me. I will decide my own limits; Not the [Black Corona]. There is also a reason I am willing to go through with this. These bank robbers most likely have a base of operations, safe from the public eye. It is there that they will store the spoils of war. I doubt the Guild will hold it against me should I requisition any of their stolen artifacts in the process of meting out some form of retribution. As long as it goes well, it is of benefit to both parties after all. For this instance, I have thought of two separate plans of action. Either of them would work, but I shall be going with the first one, prudently labeled [White Fox]. There are quite a few reasons for this, the foremost of which is that it coincides beautifully with many of my previous formulations. Though I believe its true worth will only reveal itself quite some time from now. Let us worry about such things later¡­ (Now then¡­) Reaching into the right pocket of my trousers, I begin crafting a certain something from its contents. The contents being a handful of simple iron nails, and the certain something being five crudely fashioned caltrops. Using three nails each, it is possible to fold them together into an effective weapon. Though this is only true of someone with the physical strength to bend iron using only their fingers. Applying a minute amount of [Corruption], this task is taken care of stealthily, and with finesse. Next is to wait for the right moment. All the actors are in place, so I am ready to start my lines at the cue. The star of the show is none other than Mr. Greasy Bastard, a newcomer to the acting biz. Some have speculated that this may just be his last performance. We will have to wait and see¡­ (He sure seems like a method actor¡­) This fellow¡¯s smile is becoming rather disturbing to look at, while he unceremoniously flaunts his engorged package. The inside of his head is no doubt filled with crude images of himself devouring these helpless women. It is a wonder he has not acted upon his carnal desires yet. Though I am fairly certain that his patience has worn to the breaking point by now. It is finally time to act. ¡°Ahhh! I can¡¯t stand it anymore! Macer, you cover fer me; I¡¯m gonna have myself a lil bit ¡®a fun until Chief gets back.¡± ¡°Yeah yeah¡­ Just don¡¯t make a mess ¡®a things.¡± ¡°Shut up! I know what I¡¯m doin¡¯!¡± Having said that, the greasy bastard starts making his way over to one of the more attractive hostages. He has likely based his decision on the particularly ample size of her bust. Even the overly frilly blouse and long pleated skirt can do nothing to hide the ripeness of her wares. She has splendidly fulfilled her role as bait. ¡°Gaaah!!¡± Paying far too little attention to his surroundings, the greasy bastard zealously treads upon the caltrops I have so expertly placed before him. The nails pierce straight through his boots, embedding themselves into the tender flesh from the underside of his foot. It is the recoil, caused by the sudden painful situation, that I was going for. The trigger of that greasy bastard¡¯s gun is in my hand faster than he can react. As I point the muzzle towards his freakishly muscular associate, I cock the rifle and fire a round directly into his chest. The abruptness of the action splendidly knocks the muscle-freak off of his feet. Though it is pure chance that I seem to have struck his heart, the outcome would have been the same no matter where the bullet had entered. Having effectively lowered their fighting power by half, I then draw the hidden knife from my ankle. Whilst ducking to his left side, I twist my body with a circular motion and sink the blade deep into his poorly guarded neck. His final breaths escape as a muffled gurgle; With his spine and trachea being severed cleanly by my skillful administration of swordplay. The event unfolded in less than eight seconds, and the two bank robbers now brutally display their death throes in front of the astonished crowd of hostages. Unfortunately, I have no time to waste admiring my own handiwork. Tapping into the [Black Corona] for the umpteenth time today, I once again apply my [Hypnosis]. All of the unwitting hostages are taken care of simultaneously. I am forced to rush during the whole procedure. Nonetheless, I am able to safely bring these fellows under the conclusion that they were unable to get a proper look at my appearance. As such, I will be totally unidentifiable. ¡°Ahem¡­ F-feel free to escape now... Or w-whatever.¡± I murmur these few empty words to the other hostages, as I tactlessly wipe the blood that has dirtied my blade onto the fallen bank robber¡¯s shirt. Honestly, I do not feel it is necessary for me to bother saying anything at all. It is unlikely that these people would be killed even if they should stay where they are. I, on the other hand, must flee the scene immediately, lest I am cornered by the remaining members of this heist. The gunshot will draw their attention to this place at any moment, so I shall definitely be taking my leave. Watching my rather nonchalant attitude, the rest of the hostages stare in utter bewilderment as I casually walk through the bank¡¯s front doors. As they are now, they are no longer of any consequence to me. Like this, I am cast into the bustle of the street, amongst the oblivious citizens of this busy town. The ear-piercing sound of gunshots seems to have been drowned out by the roaring of engines, and the boisterous chorus of heavy industries. Regardless of how stoic my facade may be, the inner workings of my mind are beyond irreparable. I can taste blood on my tongue, and my veins feel like they are filled to the brim with battery acid. This has clearly been a grievous misappropriation of power; Far more than my body has the capacity for. Not quite as bad as when I battled the golem but certainly working its way up to it. Nevertheless, I shall endure. I shall remain staunch and true on my path to victory. Overcoming this trial will bring me that much closer to my goal. Not to mention, as I strive to implement [White Fox], many walls that I previously could not surpass will be brought to ruin. This plan will become a vital asset in future dealings. In the meantime, I must return to my coach. I require mobility should I hope to properly attend to these rambunctious fellows. No doubt when they emerge they will be in somewhat of a hurry, having just robbed a bank and all. Tailing a group of robbers in a coach sounds like a chore, but I have some unfinished business with them that I must take care of. ------------ I am currently meditating. Since the job of tracking the group of bank robbers back to their base was rather uneventful, to say the least, I am left with quite a bit of free time until darkness falls. Horses are terribly loud creatures, making it is surprisingly easy to follow a horse-drawn vehicle. Even so, I had to park my coach and travel on foot when they entered the slums, as the traffic had become scarce. The hideout is a ragged-looking two-story building with a large iron gate on the bottom floor leading to an inner courtyard. They stashed the carriage there and took their spoils through a back entrance located in an alley to the rear of the building. Those fellows look incredibly tense. They may have succeeded in their endeavor, but they lost two colleagues to unforeseen circumstances. I have no doubt that they are racking their poor brains, trying to figure out exactly what happened. Not that it would be of any help. I am now secretly camped in a secluded location, keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of movement from the robbers. There are plenty of things I need to ruminate about while I wait. For instance, the particulars of this raid, how to spend any loot I should obtain therein, and in moving forwards, laying preparations for operation [White Fox]. To be specific, I need to increase what little control over the [Black Corona] I currently have; A formidable task indeed. From my experience, this cursed power undoubtedly predisposes its user to various debilitating repercussions. The symptoms are diverse and greatly differ in their inconvenience, but generally, they are negative effects. However, because there are effects, there must also be a cause; It is this induction that leads me to the hypothesis of the power¡¯s toxicity. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. In the case of toxins, it is usually abated by simply taking an antidote, anti-venom, or some such. That said, while far less common, a more proactive approach involves administering non-lethal doses of the poison through ingestion, or localized injection. This is repeated until the body builds up the requisite antibodies, eventually becoming tolerant to said poisonous compound. This tolerance is highly appealing to me, for if it can be translated over to my [Corruption], I could potentially become more adept with it over time. In no way does that mean the risk would disappear. Apart from the obvious physical side-effects, just like the skill¡¯s name implies, drawing from the void that is the [Black Corona] also creates a connection between that disquieting entity and my own consciousness. I feel its vile grip extending into my mind more and more. Putting that aside, being able to fulfill my goal is all that matters to me. Should this nebulous, ominous power be required to accomplish such a thing, I have decided to embrace it, albeit tentatively and with extreme caution. Therefore, it stands to reason that I should become more acquainted with this awe-inspiring force of exceedingly questionable origin. The toxicity aside, the current utility value of [Corruption] is a little sparse for my liking. This all boils down to the heavy toll it takes upon my vessel. Put another way, as long as I can get around that unfortunate stipulation, it will vastly increase the economic plasticity of my resources. Having brought this little tangent full circle, the necessity for such meticulous introspection should now be easily apparent. To put it simply, the meditation is a means of entering the correct mindset to hone my control over the unfathomable emissions that constantly ooze from of the [Black Corona]. I shall call it [Dark Radiation] henceforth. Why I believe such an absurd thing is even possible can be explained through logical deduction, though with some uncertainty. So far, there have been multiple occasions where this situation has indeed already manifested itself. The most obvious instance of this happening being when I willfully partake of [Dark Radiation] during [Corruption] or [Hypnosis]. In [Corruption]¡¯s case, I store the power internally. This is why my body is hit with the consequences. Though slightly different for [Hypnosis], the [Dark Radiation] still passes through my vessel whilst I am applying my will to it. The final example happened the other day. That totally malnourished urchin brat exhibited a dexterity far removed from what is conceivably possible. A minute amount of [Dark Radiation] somehow found its way into that child¡¯s vessel regardless of my intent. Therefore, it stands to reason that the pathway to the [Black Corona] is not necessarily through my own vessel. A shadow that looms beyond; Truly a [Black Corona]. But how do I go about this? This [Dark Radiation] is tangible yet intangible. I can apply a condition to it once it enters my body, but I have yet to digest the alternative. I can feel its presence when I greatly concentrate, but it is like the difference between common air and air with smoke floating in it. Unlike smoke, however, there is no displacement when I wave my hands through it. As fascinating of a concept as it is, I am having terrible difficulty in untangling this mystery. It is a bit dispiriting. Intuition has never been one of my strong suits. Honestly, it is almost miraculous that I have achieved this much in the first place. [Corruption] was practically handed to me by that clown, and [Hypnosis] was simply the natural conclusion of getting the hang of applying my will to the [Dark Radiation] once it actually entered my vessel. Perhaps I should just project my will into my surroundings. Sounds a bit manga-esque. I have already practiced an internal form of this mechanism, but exactly what process would I use to make it external? Ahhhh¡­ I am so close, yet the final step is so illogical! How do you think outside of your body!? What does that even mean!? On another note, how exactly did that brat manage to manipulate the [Dark Radiation]? Hmmm¡­ I seem to have missed something rather important. Is this the true difference between an intuition based lifeform and a logic-based one? Almost like receiving a completely foreign organ and just shrugging it off. That is practically cheating. (Memo to me: Do unspeakable things to that incorrigible brat to vent the stress caused by her indirect act of abject defiance; Whether deservedly or otherwise. Yes, verily so.) I should concentrate¡­ Move. Move. Move. Twirl. Spin. Flutter. Wiggle. Move. Do something. Do anything... It all does nothing. I am unable to create a connection with the surrounding energy. I have been trying everything for the past three hours and nothing is working. Is it impossible after all? Time for a different approach. I next try internally dousing a small portion of [Dark Radiation] with a certain will. Essentially, to ¡°Seek¡±, ¡°Concentrate¡±, and ¡°Manipulate¡±. When I finish composing, it immediately gathers the surrounding energy into clouds and traces my fingers path in front of me. Just like I thought, it is easy to apply will if done internally¡­ (This totally defeats the purpose of the experiment. Ingesting the poison in hopes of not ingesting the poison? A time paradox!) ¡®Sigh¡¯ Even though I barely used any power, my head feels like it is split wide open. This oversaturation is excruciating. The quicker I build a tolerance to this bothersome thing the better. It sure would be nice if it was more useful. Am I not supposed to be a god? I feel like I need to complain to someone. Quality assurance...? ¡®Sigh¡­¡¯ (Oh dear. If I keep sighing like that, my happiness will fly away¡­ Heh.) Intuition¡­ Intuition¡­ Come to think of it, I received no negative side-effects back then, despite [Falling Owl] using a ridiculous amount of power when he obliterated Fort Wayfield¡­ The heck? What an outrage! Does everyone know how to use the [Dark Radiation] correctly except for me? (Memo to me: Punch [Falling¡­ Er¡­ Cause unscrupulous misfortune to befall that damn brat to vent the additional stress caused by being slighted by my own subconscious. Needless to say undeservedly¡­ Yes, it is a necessary evil. This is basically the only thing she is good for anyway.) Ahh, I feel refreshed. Piling up debuff after debuff is causing my mind to become unstable. The world is gruesome and bleak; One all-encompassing hallucination. Fortunately, this makes the variance of my hallucinations decrease. With a larger scope, comes a loss in pressure. Analogous to a garden hose. Not having them at all would also be nice. Putting that aside, as the sun has finally set, it is about time that I should make my appearance. Guns blazing is not my style. I will momentarily return to my coach to retrieve the artifacts required for the operation. That said, they are only some coarse-fiber bags and my [Raven¡¯s Garb]. More like, is there even a need for anything else¡­? The disguise has plenty of room for improvements, but it is still quite nice in its current state. All of my specifications were skillfully manifested. Contrary to his initial untoward behavior, [Hypnotized] clothier was a true professional. To describe the appearance of the [Raven¡¯s Garb] is to invoke the subtleties that bring about a lingering unease unto those that should view it. It plays upon the primal fears of man; Of the unknown and of malignant, encroaching darkness. A cloak of black feathers enshrouds the wearer. Beneath this outer layer is a sturdy, tight-fitting, black coat adorned with all manner of pouches and compartments. Finally, there is a thin yet durable set of shirt and pants, also in black. This disguise is grim enough as it is, but coupled with the mask that looks part plague doctor, part raven, it is both menacing and highly efficient. Wearing this thing is not the most comfortable feeling in the world, but considering this world¡¯s level of technology, I am genuinely impressed by the workmanship. Actually, how did that fellow even complete this work of art with such impossible time constraints? Perhaps he pushed past his limits thanks to the influence of the [Black Corona]? More questions that lack answers¡­ Outfitted with the malevolent [Raven¡¯s Garb], I now must wittingly take on the moniker of [Falling Owl]. A persona not quite my own; A persona non grata, if you will. Since coming to this world, I have inwardly berated the nonsensical duress forced upon me as I strive to accomplish my one and only goal. It is now that such impotent tidings will be given an outlet. But freedom is always a heartless mistress. To truly be free inevitably means to steal from another. As it was for those bank robbers, so it shall be for this [Falling Owl]. ¡°{Quite a profound adage, I must say; ¡°The clothes make the man¡±. Kyish shyi shyi shyi shyi!}¡± As if to quench whatever motivation I have painstakingly nurtured, the clown appears before me at a time most foul. The taste of iron on my tongue, the vague ringing sensation in my ears, and most of all, the shattering headache, everything is greatly exacerbated by its presence. Rather than falling into this clown¡¯s pace, I choose to ignore it entirely. It is of neither mine nor my future endeavors¡¯ best interest to be swayed at such an integral moment. With the added solidarity of anonymity provided by the [Raven¡¯s Garb], I should quickly undo these rowdy fellows. ¡°{This thorny countenance suits you well, Wade. No matter how gaunt and sallow your face becomes, in the end, it¡¯s still that of a measly human. If you are to embody the true fear, you¡¯ll do well to cast aside such meniality, you see. I, for one, am overjoyed by this new atmosphere to the point of tears. Kyish shyi shyi shyi!}¡± This thing seems to be severely misunderstanding my reasonings. Though such a thing is of little concern to me as of the current moment. Beyond what is relevant to my plans, nothing else matters. Though, the clown should also be aware of this disposition of mine, to which I am without even the faintest idea as to the real intentions behind such base harassment. With the standard creaking movement, the clown replaces the mask of a grinning old man with one similar to my own. It is beyond unpleasant to share even one percent of a likeness with this vile entity. I am greatly tempted to remove my mask at once, but I must resist this urge. (Your presence is tedious, clown. Speak your piece and be gone whence you came.) ¡°{Do contain your enthusiasm, Wade. It¡¯s embarrassing when you look so happy to see me. Kyish shyi shyi shyi!}¡± (Your humor is depraved, as is your entire existence. My priorities take precedence over playing the fool for one of your damn charades.) ¡°{Tsk tsk. To look a gift horse in the mouth is uncouth, Wade.}¡± The mask is switched out for a clown with a tear beneath its eye. The gesture was far more subdued then is usual, but I know for a fact that this thing is devoid of such charming features. This is an act. Everything this thing does is theater. (Hmm¡­ I assume this comes laden with the typical baggage that you seem to enjoy burdening me with. If I were any the wiser, I would immediately put down such an ill-bearing gift horse.) In fact, I have little interest in this conversation as it stands. Thus, I am investing only the faintest of concentration for this ploy. Most of my attention is focused on scouting and assessing the necessary information required for my mission. Entrances, exits, guards, and the like. ¡°{My, my, you certainly are a tough customer. But as I¡¯m in a terribly good mood, I¡¯ll gladly overlook this minor trifle. Kyish shyi shyi shyi.}¡± (Hooo¡­? This is news to me, clown. To what do I owe the pleasure for such paradoxical chivalry?) It is without question some deviant matter, to which I am in some way involved. Looking back, I have a few ideas that stand out. This is unpleasant. ¡°{Yes yes, it is as you surmise, Wade. I¡¯m quite taken with your new form, you see. And while basking in the afterglow of such pleasant prospects, it came upon me to give you something which you¡¯ve been desperately searching for. No doubt your rigid character cleanly prevents you from finding the answer that you seek. Kyish shyi shyi shyi}¡± (You do realize this disguise is only for protection I assume. It is just like you to ignore any context not in your favor... No really, do enlighten me as to this supposed gift you feel entitled to dump upon me. I am quivering in anticipation.) As in, I could not possibly care less¡­ ¡°{That¡¯s the spirit! Kyish shyi shyi shyi¡­ Well, down to business. As you¡¯ve become mildly acquainted with it already, I shouldn¡¯t have to introduce you. The power that you so limply dabble with¡­ What do you call it¡­?}¡± (The [Black Corona]...) ¡°{Kyish shyi shyi shyi shyi shyi!! Oh, Wade, you threaten my composure! It¡¯s as if a child were to label that which it has no understanding of¡­ Though I suppose it should suffice in this context. Kyish shyi shyi shyi.}¡± Annoying! If you are going to agree with me in the end, do not make a show of it to begin with. This antagonism is heinous. I am severely running low on the patience I have allotted this bastard. ¡°{The ¡°[Black Corona]¡±, or however you put it, is far too grand in scale for your paltry vessel as of yet. I believe you may have noticed, but I¡¯m afraid this is true in my case as well. I¡¯ve attempted to contain it behind a myriad of sealing techniques, but it¡¯s proven somewhat uncooperative, you see. Its existence ties to your coordinates, which explains why the leakage permeates your vicinity, but this is beside the point¡­}¡± You have glossed over some rather key points while meandering that I would argue are in need of immediate disambiguation¡­ Not that I should expect any results on this matter. This thing sure likes to talk, considering how tightly his lips are usually sealed. His mask has changed to a chubby jovial-looking one unbeknownst to me. ¡°{If you¡¯re to ever become fit for accepting this power, there are some points I should clarify; Limitations, if you will. That is to say, this power requires a medium to which it can influence, you see. However, the degree of influence is limitless. It is that kind of power. Kyish shyi shyi shyi.}¡± ¡­ ¡°{Oh my, it appears your brain has become alight with formulations. This is a splendid development, Wade. It¡¯s well worth the trouble I faced bringing this information. Ahh, if only I could divulge more knowledge at this point in time. I¡¯d certainly enjoy myself to no end if you display such a heated reaction. Kyish shyi shyi shyi.}¡± Ignoring most of what this thing says has become second nature already. Filter out all the harmful byproducts, leaving only the information in its pure crystallized form. This clown seems to have no intention of assisting me concerning my goals, so I will ignore his depressing banter in turn. Needless to say, the potency of the conferred information this time is a pleasant surprise. Though I must admit, I am disappointed that I could not work out the mechanics on my own. It would have taken quite a few more steps, but I would have eventually produced results on that front. However, the other bits I have gleaned from the conversation certainly would have escaped me. (I shall refrain from giving you my gratitude, clown. Instead, I shall disclose some information of my own. Whether this is of any interest to one such as yourself, is entirely none of my concern.) ¡°{I see... Quid pro quo, is it? Though it may not have been my intention this time, your defenses are as tight as ever, Wade. You¡¯ll never make any friends with an attitude like that, now will you? Kyish shyi shyi shyi}¡± Friends, huh¡­ What is that? Are such things beneficial to someone who cannot even form attachments in this life? Whatever¡­ (Irrelevant matters aside, it seems that you are not the only one with foul hobbies who have attached themselves to me. It is of a barely recognizable nature, but there have been some fellows tailing me since long before I arrived at Fort Wayfield. Whether it is related or not, I have also been conveyed a rather vivid precognitive vision.) ¡­ The clown seems to have found this information most unpalatable. The mask has changed to an expressionless white as if to hide any kind of emotions boiling beneath it. I would be elated if such an emotion was even possible for me. Severe. This is the only way I can describe the atmosphere surrounding us. The deep rumble which resonates whenever enough [Dark Radiation] accumulates in one place begins to make my ear canals tingle. This clown¡¯s facade is slipping. (Oi! Hold it together you hair-trigger bastard! Think of the TPO before having a meltdown. Not getting your own way is no reason to wipe a whole town from existence! I sure as hell cannot control this much energy, you know!) Taking the time I fought the golem as a reference, this is quickly leaving the realm of merely fun and games. This is an absurd amount of energy; Five times more than I can confidently handle as of the moment. Not to mention, it would be highly unlikely anything within tens of kilometers would be making it out alive. With a rather pronounced cracking sound, a fracture appears on the top left of the clown¡¯s mask. A gut-clenching chill runs down my spine. A terrible, terrible thing begins to seep into the back of my mind. What¡­¡­¡­ Is this¡­? (You¡­!) Ahh¡­ This is not good¡­ ¡°{Oh dear... It appears I have become a bit complacent as things were going so very well. Ah¡­ I see¡­}¡± While in a daze, the clown unsteadily reaches towards the mask to replace it. Almost like a black hole, the pressure that had been so suffocating before is sucked into the mask at a tremendous rate. Silence once again pervades the town¡¯s nightscape. All is as it should be¡­ Or so it should have been. ¡°{It is most unfortunate, Wade, but I must attend to another matter posthaste, you see. You have my gratitude for the heads-up regarding the uninvited guests. It certainly caught me off guard, I must admit. Kyish shyi shyi¡­}¡± The laugh, which grates on my nerves even on the best of occasions, instead falls eerily flat. The Noh mask expressionlessly quivers with rage. If I had known my words would be as invidious as this, I would have chosen a more appropriate time and place. Practice what you preach¡­ ¡°{Well then, best of luck in your endeavors, Wade. I¡¯m sure these poor bastards will rue ever having crossed paths for the rest of their miserable little lives. Kyish shyi shyi shyi!}¡± With those words, the clown dissipates into a fog and disperses into the darkness of the night. Only this once am I too tired to mention my distaste for our thoughts having coincided. The emptiness and futility of my existence are pouring out like a fountain, staining the tides of fortune black. Anew, I am reminded of that which lurks beyond the brink. The wound is freshened and raw. The smile, of which I am fully aware is not one of happiness or mirth. It is an uncensorable, disquieting evil, in its purest of forms. Once, I sold my soul to the devil himself. I am evermore burdened with the consequences of that unholy transaction. My flesh has rotted and my heart has withered until there is nothing left. And yet, in spite of all of these inescapable facts, I would not hesitate to do it all again. I have already taken the poison¡­ I might as well finish my damn plate¡­ ¡°Let the show begin¡­¡±