《Revolver Chronicles [Afterlife LitRPG] (Book 1 COMPLETE)》 1. Pulverizer 1. Pulverizer As Serac Edin whiled away her final moments in the lowest pits of hell, she was haunted by memories of freedom. She knew these to be her final moments, not by the grace of some uncanny premonition, but simply because she¡¯d been informed of the fact. For it¡¯d been just hours earlier that Porky the Jailer, a peculiar one among his kind not only for his appetite (in that he had one at all) but also for his speech (in that it was, at least barely, intelligible to Serac¡¯s Rakshasa ears), had looked down his pale squashed nose at her and grunted in between slurps of maggot-gruel. ¡°You. Pulverizer next. You dead.¡± And so, as morning turned to afternoon and afternoon wore into evening (not that the time of day mattered all that much this far down in the depths of Naraka), Serac stared unseeingly at the leftover maggots that crawled on the flesh-paved floor of her cell. She stared while trying to reckon with the facts of her meager life and the choices¡ªor the lack thereof¡ªthat had led her to this moment. The Pulverizer. That aptly named contraption of grinding gears and jagged rocks that turned solids into liquids without the aid of heat or pressure. It was the last and deadliest in a large arsenal of torture devices that lined the profane halls of the Damnatorium, reserved only for the unruliest of its inmates. No soul was known to survive the Pulverizer¡¯s bloodthirsty embrace, and Serac was under no illusion that she¡¯d be an exception. As Porky had put so eloquently, she dead, and very much so. And no wonder. For even Serac could admit to having gone a little overboard in her latest attempt to break the monotony of her existence. Who could¡¯ve foreseen that her little prank with the Furnace would leave several Jailers burnt to crisps while also inciting a prison-wide riot¡ªone that showed no signs of slowing even after morning had turned to afternoon and afternoon had worn into evening? Even from the dimly lit cell of her solitary confinement, she could still hear the distant wailing of her fellow inmates and the barking of Jailers trying to wrest back control. Yes, even Serac could admit to having gone overboard. No wonder the powers that be had deemed her unruly enough to warrant a death sentence. She¡¯d already been walking on thin ice, of course. After the Iron Maiden incident from last year (she could only assume it was last year; not like she had a calendar to help her keep track) and her escape attempt the year before that. She should¡¯ve known better than to poke the proverbial bear while the consequences of her rebellious behavior were still fresh on everyone¡¯s mind. And yet, could anyone really blame her? For wanting to shake things up a little? Try as Serac might, she couldn¡¯t recall her life before the Damnatorium. Did she even have a before? Try as she might, she could recall only the present¡ªwhat she¡¯d been experiencing for days on end and for as long as she could remember. The miasma of decaying flesh that yet twisted her nostrils. The unbearable heat that continually singed her cinnabar skin. Oh, and of course, the torture. Who could ever forget the torture? Even now, the molten onyx stump of her left horn served as a raw reminder of the previous night spent inside the Furnace (right before she managed to blow it up). The stump gave her face an embarrassingly lopsided appearance, framed as it was by the Penitent¡¯s Circlet¡ªa laurel of fine iron tendrils that permanently wrapped around her bumpy forehead. Porky¡¯s ominous yet sparse words had held no clues as to how much time Serac had left to regrow her missing horn, which proved at the moment to be her biggest source of concern. Granted, a death-row Rakshasa¡¯s appearance and comportment mattered as little as the time of day this far down in the depths of Naraka. Even so, couldn¡¯t a girl be forgiven for wanting to look her best in her final moments? Welp. Better luck next life, I suppose. Because that was where all this hand-wringing was best saved for. The next life. Especially if she¡¯d managed to score herself an upgrade over the current one. A sandy beach? A chilled mai tai to sip on? Or just a mattress that didn¡¯t feel like the pulsing innards of a live animal? Serac considered herself a pragmatist. She didn¡¯t ask for much. Literally anything would be preferable to another lifetime of this. But¡­ Serac also considered herself a realist. And the reality was that, for as long as she could remember, she¡¯d been one of thousands upon thousands of disposable souls left to rot in the bowels of the Damnatorium. She knew no life other than that of torture. No companion other than the dead eyes and phlegmy grunts of Porky the Jailer. So, just how was she expected to have earned the kind of Karma that could manifest a beach, a cold drink, or even an inanimate mattress? Forget it. I¡¯m Anchored like all the rest of the miserable Penitents that are trapped in here. Doomed to repeat the same cycle of suffering for gods know how many more Kalpas. All to repent for some ancient crime none of us can remember¡­ And yet, even as Serac Edin resigned herself to her endless Kalpas of suffering, she was haunted by the ghosts of an entirely different reality. Memories of freedom. And they were her own memories, which only made them all the more painful to recall. All the more impossible to resist their call¡ªand to quench the flames of rebellion they lit within her soul. A lush mountain teeming with all manner of fruits and wildlife. Cloudless skies that stretched as far and wide as the eye could see. And best (worst) of all, power. Power to topple a mountain with the snap of a finger. To cross a thousand skies in the blink of an eye. The kind of power that granted its wielder true and absolute freedom, unbeholden to the forces and laws of the universe, or to the whims of enemies big or small, mortal or divine, in this life or the¡ª ¡°You. Pulverizer. Now.¡± Porky¡¯s phlegmy grunt, along with the squelching of his heavy iron boots against the prison¡¯s fleshy floor, snapped Serac out of her recollections. She eyed the Jailer and his rotund yet towering frame before settling her gaze on his squished and pustule-ridden face. His must be the ugliest mug this side of the Sanzu River, and Serac was strangely confident in her assessment despite her limited knowledge of the other mugs in contention. She smirked at her own private joke at Porky¡¯s expense. As it turned out, neither her solitary confinement nor her impending execution had done enough to dampen her rebellious mood. ¡°You mind if I sit this one out, chief?¡± Her voice was more than a little hoarse, understandably so, given its lengthy neglect of producing anything other than screams of pain. ¡°It¡¯s just that it¡¯s getting a bit late in the day, and I think I¡¯d like my beauty sleep now. This figure doesn¡¯t keep itself, you know!¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. As Serac said this, her stump of a left horn stung under the constant pressure from her Circlet. Her skin, even redder than usual, swelled and cracked all over with blisters both fresh and unremitting. And her emaciated body trembled at the slightest provocation from the foul air that swirled all around, made flimsy and brittle after untold years of torture. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on her. If anything, the irony only widened her smile. Porky, evidently, wasn¡¯t in on the joke. Or if he was, he didn¡¯t find it very funny. He gaped a while in silence before reaching an enormous, pudgy hand for the six-shooter that was chained to his belt. The metal chain clinked and jangled¡ªrather pleasantly, Serac mused¡ªas the Jailer raised and aimed his weapon. Serac stared unflinchingly at the six-shooter and its slightly rusted barrel¡­ and laughed. Goading a cruel and short-tempered Jailer into violence was the farthest thing from pragmatism or realism, yet in the moment, it felt good to laugh. To use that bubbly voice of hers to produce something other than screams of pain. Besides¡­ what did she have to lose at this point? What had she ever had to lose? ¡°Really?¡± she spat with unchecked glee. ¡°You think that¡¯s going to scare me? After all the shit you¡¯d wrung me through, you think a little handgun is gonna put the fear of Devas in me? Oh no, anything but that! Throw me back in the Furnace, hang me from the Gallows, rake me over the Bed of Thorns, but please, not the wee lead pellets from your precious¡ªow!¡± The pain was back in an instant and with a vengeance. It¡¯d been delivered, not in the form of lead pellets shot out of Porky¡¯s six-shooter, but via the thin iron tendrils that wrapped around the forehead of every inmate of the Damnatorium, including Serac¡¯s. The Penitent¡¯s Circlet¡ªinextricably fused with the wearer¡¯s skin, flesh, and bone¡ªnow tightened. Only slightly, but that slight increase in pressure was enough to cause an excruciating headache that inflamed Serac¡¯s entire being. And that excruciating pain was enough to wipe clean the last shred of her delusions about freedom. ¡°Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Alright, enough! You¡¯ve made your point!¡± Porky lowered and reholstered his weapon¡ªhis cattle prod¡ªat the same time as Serac¡¯s headache subsided. And as her senses and thoughts returned to her, she inwardly chided herself for her own indiscretion. It¡¯d been ages since she¡¯d personally pissed off Porky enough to make him invoke the Circlet, perhaps long enough for her to have forgotten the absolute power it had over her. She¡¯d do well not to forget again. Not that it mattered at this point. Not when her next destination was¡ª ¡°Pulverizer. Now.¡± Porky¡¯s gnarly muscles bulged as he pulled apart the giant rib cage that served as the ¡®door¡¯ to Serac¡¯s cell. Outside, the Rakshasa inmate was greeted by fresh currents of stagnant air as well as a buzzing undercurrent beneath the commotions of a prison in riot. This buzzing sound was made up of the whimpered lamentations of Penitents everywhere: a constant reminder of the absolute power their Jailers held over them¡ªand of the return to miserable normalcy that surely awaited their misguided uprising. Gone entirely was Serac¡¯s earlier bravado, replaced by meek self-loathing. She embodied this by lowering her head and averting her gaze from the other cells as she passed. For to look upon the cells¡¯ occupants would be to see reflections of her own wretched self. Eventually, Porky led her through a tricuspid valve and into a darkened offshoot of the main corridor. The floor sagged under the weight of her bare feet and emanated an unpleasant sort of lukewarmness¡ªthe kind that might be felt from over-tenderized meat. Here, for the first time, the scent of blood overrode that of flesh. Serac instantly knew what that meant, even as her fearful eyes took in the full extent of the horrors that awaited her. The Pulverizer was larger and even more terrible than she could¡¯ve imagined. For she soon realized that she was already inside it. This entire, roughly ovoid room was the Pulverizer, with every inch of its ceilings and walls covered with blocks of craggy stone and the rusted mechanisms that jutted in between them. Not only that, but the entire room was also red. Red with layers upon layers of the blood of its former victims. Pain and death, both fresh and unremitting. Then, even as Serac stood frozen in shock, the Pulverizer shrieked with a high-pitched metallic keening. It began to compress, with its ceilings and walls of pain and death closing in on the latest of solid beings to be turned liquid. Suddenly and absolutely, even Serac¡¯s self-loathing made way for an emotion that was more primitive, both in source and urgency. Fear. Gripped by a primal fear that overrode even that of her Circlet, she turned toward her Jailer, ready to plead and grovel and offer anything and everything of her meager self in exchange for clemency. But Porky was nowhere to be seen. He¡¯d already stepped out of the room, with the tricuspid valve shuttering behind him. No, not all of him. A length of metal chain yet poked out of the opening between the three flaps of the valve. It was the chain that tethered a Jailer¡¯s six-shooter to his belt¡ªa reminder that, here in the lowest depths of Naraka, every soul was bound inexorably to the sins of their former lives. Serac lunged and reached. Her right hand managed to grab hold of the chain. At the same time, however, her entire world was thrown into blinding redness as the Pulverizer completed its first bite. Crunch! Skreeee¡­ ¡°Arrggghhhh¡­!!¡± A familiar refrain. Her once bubbly voice wrung and twisted until it burst out as an animalistic scream. But Serac couldn¡¯t pay her throat any heed. Not when her whole body had turned to a mangled pulp within the Pulverizer¡¯s rattling maw. Her whole body¡­ except for her right hand! Somehow, the right hand remained wrapped around Porky¡¯s chain. It stayed there even as the chain tautened, tugged as it was from the other side of the valve¡ªand even as the Pulverizer closed in a second time, this time gnashing its teeth in wanton hunger, relishing the liquefied contents that gushed out of its latest meal. A sandy beach. A chilled mai tai to sip on. Serac couldn¡¯t believe the thoughts that gushed out with the soup that was now her brain matter. Couldn¡¯t believe that she could have thoughts at all. The power to topple a mountain with the snap of a finger. To cross a thousand skies in the blink of an eye. To grasp freedom¡ªin its truest and most absolute form. And even as her sightless eyes saw her own redness paint a new layer upon the Pulverizer¡¯s teeth, as her voiceless throat wrung out the last and most desperate of its screams, and as her shapeless body felt the weight of a mountain grind against its back¡­ Serac Edin somehow found the strength to hold onto the chain in her right hand. It was the chain that tethered a Jailer¡¯s six-shooter to his belt¡ªjust as surely as it Anchored a Wayfaring soul to the truth and sanctity of her Path. Even as the rest of her body and mind turned to mush, Serac felt something solid fall into her right hand, taking the place of Porky¡¯s chain. Something with real heft. Something that promised freedom¡ªand the violence with which to win it. And that was when Serac¡¯s soundless ears perked up at a message from nowhere. ¡°Deific transmutation complete. Instrument re-designated as: REVOLVER. Candidate identified. Initiate pairing. Pairing complete.¡± The vaguely male voice was cool, collected, and detached¡ªalmost infuriatingly so, given Serac¡¯s predicament. But precisely because she was in such a bind, she listened with all her might to the message from nowhere¡ªto the guidance from her faceless savior. ¡°Welcome, Wayfarer, to the beginning of the rest of your afterlife.¡± 2. Consent 2. Consent Somewhere within the gnashing redness, Serac found the wherewithal to reorient herself to her immediate reality. Her body remained crushed between the uneven edges of the Pulverizer¡¯s teeth. That much hadn¡¯t changed. As such, she had no eyes with which to see, no ears with which to hear, nor really any nerves left with which to feel the pain of her liquefaction. The only solid thing left to her was her right hand, which she¡¯d managed to poke out of Pulverization range in the last second¡­ and with which she now gripped her lifeline with the last of her rapidly waning strength. A lifeline that took the form of¡ªhang on, what exactly was she holding in her hand? As if in answer to her unspoken question, a new set of stimuli entered her world. Strings of faintly glowing symbols floated into her mind¡¯s vision before settling into neat rows of words. Words she could read, which was surprising enough by itself, given that, until this very moment, Serac Edin didn¡¯t even know herself to be literate. In any case, she quickly put her newfound literacy to use, deciding that a visual message from nowhere couldn¡¯t be any less helpful than its auditory cousin. [Designation: REVOLVER] [Instrument Class: DEIFIC] [Anchored Realm: NARAKA (Base)] [Item Description: Oft-lauded by Manusya firearm enthusiasts as the finest revolver ever made, the Smith & Wesson ¡®Triple Lock¡¯ gets its iconic name from an additional third locking lug that sits on the cylinder crane, deemed necessary to harness the sheer power of its ammunition of choice: the .44 Special. Despite its quality and popularity, its production was surprisingly limited, leading to its eventual status as a sought-after collector¡¯s item. Consider yourself lucky if you ever get your hand(s) on one of these bad boys, especially if you happen to be in need of some extra firepower!] Too much was happening at once, and none of it felt all that helpful¡ªat least not yet. Wayfarer? Transmutation? REVOLVER? And who the hell are ¡®Smith & Wesson¡¯? Numerous questions continued to spill out along with Serac¡¯s brain soup, but she knew one of them to be more immediately pertinent than all the others. So, she squeezed every drop of her fading consciousness to compose a sourceless message of her own. Um¡­ hello? Mr Voice? Were you maybe planning on telling me what to do next? ¡°Before we proceed any further, I first require confirmation on your end. Do you agree to be my collaborator?¡± If Serac had any musculature left, she might¡¯ve jolted in surprise. Even though she¡¯d been the one to ¡®ask¡¯, she still hadn¡¯t fully expected to receive an answer¡ªleast of all in the form of another question. Er¡­ do I even have any choice in the matter? What does it mean exactly for us to collaborate? ¡°It means we enter a binding agreement, which states that you shall wield REVOLVER, continue to do so, and never deviate from its intended use until such time that our shared goal is achieved. It¡¯s¡­ really more of a formality than anything. I need to register your conscious consent¡ªyour express will to take up the life of a Wayfarer¡ªotherwise our activities won¡¯t proc their just rewards in Karma.¡± More questions, along with some words that didn¡¯t particularly sit well with Serac. Binding? Never deviate? She¡¯d been so sure that the object in her hand would be her unshackling, but that notion seemed more tenuous by the second. Still, one question remained immediately pertinent above all others. If I agree to be your collaborator, will you help me out of this mess? ¡°Naturally.¡± For the first time since their ¡®conversation¡¯ had begun, a note of something approaching emotion entered her savior¡¯s speech. Something akin to a scoff, as though it¡ªhe?¡ªhad deemed Serac¡¯s question to be one deserving of ridicule. ¡°You won¡¯t be much use to anyone while you¡¯re crushed and trapped under these rocks. Our first order of business would be to extricate you from the Pulverizer. And hopefully with all your bits intact.¡± Hopefully? That was yet another word that didn¡¯t sit well with Serac, but the rest of Mr Voice¡¯s spiel sounded pretty good. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? Couldn¡¯t be any worse than to do nothing and wait for her soup-form existence to drain away¡­ Fine. I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll be your collaborator. ¡°You give your consent, then?¡± Yes, I consent! Now get these rocks off of me, and hurry! ¡°Consent registered. Awaiting Pathsight verification.¡± This was followed by a pause. Brief in reality, yet excruciatingly long in perception. Long enough for more of Serac¡¯s strength and consciousness to fade, and for a few drops of her brain soup to congeal into a new question that suddenly gripped her with its ominous import. Wait. You said the agreement is ¡®binding¡¯, but how is it even enforced? Like¡­ if I up and decide this ¡®Wayfarer¡¯ life ain¡¯t for me, how will you¡ª ¡°Verification received. Congratulations, Wayfarer: you are hereby the proud new wielder of REVOLVER. May your Path never lead you astray for long.¡± Only then did Serac realize that she¡¯d asked her question too late. For that was also when the tendrils of the Penitent¡¯s Circlet tightened around her ¡®forehead¡¯. Ow! The pain was brief and rather dispassionate, with an almost business-like flavor. As Mr Voice might¡¯ve put it, it¡¯d been a mere formality and nothing more. As much as Serac had expected and dreaded its onset, she was also mystified by the pain. Because, as far as she could tell, she no longer had a forehead to speak of, and she could only assume that the Circlet and its filamentous composition would¡¯ve long been ¡®Pulverized¡¯ along with the rest of her head. Then, as if to hammer home the ¡®formality¡¯ of the occasion, yet another message came in, this time in text form. [Designation: SERAC EDIN] [Wayfarer Race: RAKSHASA] [Karmic Level: 1] [Liminal Karma: 0 ?] [DEIFIC Instrument: REVOLVER] [Auxiliary: Nil] [HP: Indefinable*] [MP: 25/68]If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. [Stamina: 1*] [Poise: 0*] [Cartridge: 6|30] [Burden: 0/27 (Light)] This elicited only more questions, each more confounding than the last! And now, in addition to ominous-sounding words, there were some numbers that didn¡¯t sit particularly well with Serac. Poise of ¡®0¡¯? I mean, granted, I don¡¯t feel terribly composed at the moment, but all things considered, I¡¯d say I¡¯m handling this situation rather well. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that right now; I¡¯ll explain later.¡± Mr Voice interrupted what Serac had too naively assumed to be her private thoughts. ¡°What¡¯s more important for you to know is that, given this is where we ratified our partnership, this room here has just become the first Waystation on our journey. Which is¡­ less than ideal, but it¡¯ll have to do.¡± Waystation? What¡¯s that? ¡°You¡¯ll understand soon enough. But before we can put this Waystation to use, we ought to clear it of its previous occupant. Now, how dexterous are your fingers at the minute? Can you feel the shape of REVOLVER in your hand?¡± With Mr Voice¡¯s prompting, Serac realized that the thing she¡¯d been gripping for dear life was a kind of metallic handle, covered in parts by smooth wooden plating. Gun to her head, she would¡¯ve sworn that she¡¯d never before held a gun in her life, and yet, the way REVOLVER¡¯s grip sat snugly within her grasp¡ªalmost as if its contours had been tailor-crafted for her anatomy¡ªfelt intimately familiar. As familiar as the sensation of toppling a mountain with the snap of her finger¡­ Yes. I can feel it. ¡°Now move your index finger. See if you can¡¯t slip it through the trigger mechanism.¡± Serac did as she was bid. She felt the cold of the carbon steel¡ªsoothing against her burning skin. Her index finger wrapped around and pressed against the trigger, moving it ever so slightly without fully engaging its mechanism. This produced a light and delicate click, somehow captured by her mind¡¯s ears. ¡°Good. Now go ahead and fire. Remember, squeeze rather than pull the trigger. And I won¡¯t apologize if that comes across as condescending. Manusyas usually don¡¯t require such reminders, but you never know with you Rakshasas.¡± Wait¡­ what am I actually aiming at right now? ¡°Why, yourself, of course. Or more accurately, the ungodly amalgam of the Pulverizer plus whatever still remains of yourself.¡± Wouldn¡¯t that¡­ kill me? ¡°Naturally. But with any luck, it should also destroy the Pulverizer, especially in your current condition. Now, stop dallying! Your MP is still ticking down, and soon you won¡¯t have enough to activate the spell.¡± What ¡®MP¡¯? What ¡®spell¡¯? And what¡¯s this about my ¡®current condition¡¯? But Serac was a realist, and the reality was that now wasn¡¯t the time for more questions. No, it was time to act. Before she lost her nerve. Before all of her consciousness leaked out into the gnashing redness that had taken over her world. Serac Edin pulled¡ªno, no, squeezed¡ªthe trigger. Then two things happened simultaneously. First was the flash of a new text across her mind¡¯s eye, a relatively brief one that only read: [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] Second was an explosion. That was the only way to describe it. What wee lead pellet had shot out of REVOLVER had taken the form of a bona fide bomb, instantly turning the Pulverizer¡¯s oppressive redness into an inferno of fire, rock fragments, and evaporated Rakshasa soup. Serac had been a solid being when she¡¯d stepped into this room. Since then, she¡¯d run through the gamut of phases of matter: from liquid to vapor to now something so minuscule and insubstantial as to defy categorization. And in this newly diffuse and elusive form, the amorphous entity of what used to be roughly Serac Edin floated out of the room altogether. The entity didn¡¯t stop there. It floated through the dank, fleshy corridors of the Damnatorium until it reached the light at the end of the tunnel: open air and the scarlet skies that spread all across Naraka. Still, it kept going, floating high into the air until it had a bird¡¯s eye view of the land below. There was the exterior of the Damnatorium itself, a dense collection of necrotic tumors that grew from the bottom of an enormous gaping wound. The wound edges leveled off into a flat desert, as pink as the capillaries that showed through its translucent surface. Then even the desert ended in a sheer cliff, beyond which lay the vastness of the Fibrinous Canyon¡ªthat desiccated vestige of a bygone era when the Sanzu River still flowed blood-red this far down in Naraka. How did Serac know any of this? As far as she could recall, she¡¯d never stepped foot outside her prison. And yet, everything she saw from her bird¡¯s eye view settled into the wisps of her consciousness as knowledge rather than novelty. She¡¯d been here before, had wandered through Naraka proper and all its strange and horrific sights¡ªif not as herself, then at least as one of the ghosts of her previous lives. Along with that knowledge came realization. That she was free. Released from her mortal coil and from the miseries of a Penitent life. Solid into liquid into vapor into soul: unattached and free to move onto her next life, wherever that might take her. You¡¯ve done it, Mr Voice, whoever you were! I followed your crazy advice and shot myself right out of prison. Sandy beach, here I come. (Imaginary) fingers crossed! ¡­ And that was when Serac¡¯s world shrank again, along with the scope of her vision. The red sky fell away, and a bird¡¯s eye view became that of a dung beetle on ground level. Then the beetle became a stream of pus that could trace its origin to one of the many tumors that made up the Damnatorium. On this occasion, the river of pus flowed backwards, back into the orifice that served as a prison¡¯s entrance, then through its dank fleshy corridors all the way until it reached the tricuspid valve that gated the Pulverizer from its stockpile of potential victims. Welp. So much for that sandy beach. I guess we¡¯re back to the drawing board. Only¡­ the Pulverizer was gone: reduced to a fine rubble of rock and rust, and in its place, in the center of the room, sat a strange object. It was about knee-height and shoulder-width, with multiple layers of densely overlapping petals that fanned out in radial patterns. Its color, save for thin strips of gentle pink, was pure white¡ªa striking and beautiful sight against a backdrop of rock, rust, and blood. A lotus flower. Granted, it was far larger than any lotus flower Serac could recall from this or a previous life, but even in its mutated form, there was no mistaking its distinctive morphology. Too much had happened at once for Serac to process it all, but she could be sure about at least one thing: this lotus flower hadn¡¯t been here the ¡®last time¡¯ she was in this room. ¡°Let me guess. This is your so-called ¡®Waystation¡¯, isn¡¯t it?¡± She jumped, startled by the sound of her own voice¡ªpleasantly bubbly and produced by an intact set of vocal cords. And the fact she was able to jump also told her that she had full use of her body¡ªflesh, blood, and bone. Which meant she was seeing the lotus flower with her own two eyes. Which also meant¡­ Serac first looked up, then down at herself. Everything was back in its proper place: soul into vapor into liquid into solid. Two horns¡ªin their full onyx glory¡ªjutted from between the filaments of her Penitent¡¯s Circlet before curving rearward into the wavy ash-gray mess that was her hair. Her cinnabar skin sagged a little too visibly over her atrophied muscles¡ªsans blisters, neither fresh nor unremitting. Most of her now healed body was covered by the drab and moldy Penitent¡¯s rags that hung a little too loosely over her emaciated frame. That was a shame. A girl would¡¯ve hoped that one of the perks of resurrection might be a fresh set of clothes. In Serac¡¯s right hand¡ªas she¡¯d half-expected by now¡ªshe held a six-shooter, though it was of an obviously different model than the one that had belonged to Porky. At a glance, it was noticeably larger, with a sleek metal frame that showed no wear nor tear. The plating on either side of the grip was of varnished wood, so pale in color as to be almost the white of a lotus flower. Intricate engravings marked the plates¡¯ surface, and Serac might¡¯ve held the gun up for a closer inspection, had her full attention not been wrested away by¡­ whatever the hell was going on with her left hand. Well, her left forearm, to be more precise. What was once a flimsy twig of cinnabar skin and brittle bone had transformed and bulked up beyond all recognition¡ªinto a craggy mass of jagged red rocks. It looked solid and painful, and Serac marveled at her own apparent nonchalance, for she could only imagine that her real arm must be a mangled mess underneath all those rough surfaces and sharp edges. Cautiously, almost fearfully, she flexed the free hand that poked out of the abomination that had replaced her left arm. She found to her massive relief (and more confusion) that everything seemed to be in its proper place: four fingers, a thumb, and their onyx claws, all moving freely without sending any pain signals further upstream. Was this her life now? An ungodly amalgam of mostly intact Rakshasa plus one hideous rock-vambrace? As if in answer to Serac¡¯s concerned musings¡ªas she¡¯d half-expected by now¡ªa block of now familiar text beamed itself into her mind¡¯s vision and overlaid her physical surroundings, bringing with it some updated information: [Designation: SERAC EDIN] [Wayfarer Race: RAKSHASA] [Karmic Level: 1] [Liminal Karma: 0 ?] [DEIFIC Instrument: REVOLVER] [Auxiliary: PULVERIZER] 3. Jailer 3. Jailer [Designation: PULVERIZER] [Instrument Class: AUXILIARY] [Anchored Realm: NARAKA (Base)] [Item Description: Deep in the nadir of Laceration Gorge lies the Damnatorium, by all accounts the bleakest and most brutal prison in all the Six Realms¡ªa cautionary tale to discourage any soul from a life of sin and debauchery. And somewhere within its dreary bowels sits the Pulverizer, voted by readers of Penitents Weekly as the bleakest and most brutal of the Damnatorium¡¯s numerous and diverse torture devices. They say what doesn¡¯t kill you makes you stronger, and perhaps nowhere does that adage ring truer than within the Pulverizer¡¯s gnashing maw¡ªprovided, of course, that you live to tell the tale.] *** ¡°Congratulations, Wayfarer, for procuring your first Auxiliary Instrument. Now, let¡¯s see you put it to good use.¡± ¡°Hang on, Mr Voice. Aren¡¯t you gonna take a minute to explain a few things? I think I¡¯ve waited long enough.¡± ¡°I¡¯d suggest that you reevaluate your priorities, and quickly. Do you want me to stop and explain things, or do you perhaps want to defend yourself against the immediate threat?¡± ¡°Defend myself? From¡ª?¡± ¡°You! Why you not dead?¡± The squelching of heavy boots against flesh. The bulging of gnarly muscles (somehow audible!). The clink and jangle of a metal chain, now loose and bereft of its anchor. Serac turned away from her giant lotus flower of a ¡®Waystation¡¯, just in time to spy her favorite Jailer burst through a tricuspid valve and into the room. Then she was forced to duck, as something black and leathery shot forth from Porky¡¯s hands, aimed straight at her newly intact face. The object¡¯s flight was accompanied by more metallic jangling, louder and closer. Serac saw that the leathery mass was Porky¡¯s belt¡ªbulky buckle, rusty spikes and all¡ªthat the Jailer now flung around like a DIY morningstar. So, even minus a six-shooter, he¡¯d found a use for that chain after all. But then, if he wasn¡¯t wearing his belt, what happened to his¡ª? No, some questions were best left unanswered. Not that Serac had any time to ponder them, as Porky¡¯s improvised weapon flew back around a second time, this time swinging down from the ceiling and shooting for the crown of her head. She managed to sidestep it, just barely, and felt the ground beneath her give way as Porky¡¯s belt pulverized a pile of rubble that used to be the Pulverizer. Then a third attack followed in quick succession, flying low and kicking up a cloud of rock dust. Serac dodged again, this time by jumping and bringing her knees up to her chest. She nearly lost her balance as she landed, unaccustomed as she was to the excess weight in her left arm as well as the unfamiliar stress on her deconditioned body. Lungs were already full to bursting, and muscles¡ªwhat was left of them, anyway¡ªburned from the preceding effort. Serac couldn¡¯t recall the last time she¡¯d had this much exercise (she figured that being tortured didn¡¯t count). As such, she had very little confidence in her own cardiovascular readiness to withstand Porky¡¯s barrage. Sure enough, when next the Jailer¡¯s morning-belt whipped toward her at speed, Serac found that she couldn¡¯t move at all. Her muscles had seized up, and she herself was out of breath. The attack connected cleanly, with buckle digging into her midsection, belt knocking her off her feet, and spikes drawing blood for good measure (and surely seeding a bit of the ol¡¯ tetanus at the same time). ¡°Oof!¡± Even as Serac staggered in pain and from the sheer force of Porky¡¯s attack, she retained the presence of mind to be startled by changes to her metaphysical world. For the hit she¡¯d suffered¡ªand her inability to prevent it¡ªhad been accompanied by more signals from nowhere. [235!] Only then did Serac become aware of a red bar that hung from a corner of her vision. Had it always been there, or only since she¡¯d entered into an ¡®agreement¡¯ with a sentient six-shooter? In any case, a chunk of the bar¡ªjust over a third of it, to be exact¡ªdisappeared like it¡¯d been chopped off and added to a pot of stew. That hadn¡¯t been the only colorful addition to her world. Two more bars sat adjacent to the red one: a fully intact but rather stubby-looking blue one, as well as an emptied green bar that flashed angrily before filling back up at speed. ¡°That¡¯s your Stamina.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Every action you take requires a bit of Stamina. Like dodging and jumping, for example. If you deplete it fully, you become momentarily immobilized, as you already so aptly demonstrated. The only way to move again is to wait for your Stamina to recover.¡± ¡°Might¡¯ve been useful to tell me that beforehand, don¡¯t you reckon?¡± ¡°On the contrary, I believe that first-hand experience is always the best teacher. Especially painful ones. Look out!¡± Porky the Jailer, as was his right, refused to let his prisoner have a sidebar with her invisible collaborator. He held his position at the valvular boundary of the room, blocking Serac¡¯s exit with his rotund yet towering frame. With gnarly, bulging arms, he rattled the chain once more to send his morning-belt hurtling toward the nearest Rakshasa. With her ¡®Stamina¡¯ replete again, Serac acted on instinct and dodged. But this latest bit of successful evasion elicited an audible tsk from Mr Voice. ¡°If you¡¯ve got something to say, I¡¯m all ears. Truly.¡± ¡°Do you plan on fighting back at any point? Or do you expect us to stay forever Anchored to our very first Waystation?¡± ¡°What am I supposed to? Not like Porky¡¯s letting me have any breathing room!¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got limbs. With access to some rather useful tools, I might add. I suggest you use them.¡± Mr Voice could really do with a little less snark, but he was probably right. In between another sidestep and the next sequence in Porky¡¯s combo, Serac glanced, first at REVOLVER, then at PULVERIZER. Nothing in her life of torture and punishment had prepared her to use these ¡®tools¡¯, but even when experience failed her, she had her imagination to fall back on.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Porky threw out his attack, a wobbly swing aimed at Serac¡¯s midsection. This time, instead of dodging, the Rakshasa held up her left arm, as if to shield herself behind the craggy mass of rocks. It worked. Porky¡¯s morning-belt bounced against PULVERIZER¡¯s uneven surface with a deafening clang before flopping onto the floor. Serac herself felt the blunted impact, along with another number that popped into her consciousness: [30!]¡ªmuch reduced from the previous hit where she ate the whole thing with her own tummy. More importantly, the shielding maneuver had allowed her to stand her ground and keep her eyes on the opponent, while also leaving her right hand free to launch an attack of her own. This was the breathing room she¡¯d been looking for. Now, all she needed was to raise her gun and¡ª Except she couldn¡¯t. Try as she might, her right arm remained stuck by her side, with REVOLVER pointing uselessly to the floor. What in the¡­? That was when she noticed the green bar in the corner of her vision, if only because it once more screamed out for attention, flashing brightly to alert a Wayfarer to the depletion of her Stamina. ¡°What? I can¡¯t even shoot a gun without this stupid Stamina?¡± ¡°I thought I told you. Every action you take¡ªincluding blocking or attacking¡ªrequires a proportionate amount of Stamina in order to function properly. Count yourself lucky that you came out of this sequence relatively unscathed. And focus on your next course of action. Think carefully, now. Don¡¯t let a single move go to waste.¡± Mr Voice¡¯s advice was all well and good, but Porky the Jailer proved uninterested in giving his prisoner the time to think. He went straight into his next combo, forcing Serac to react purely on instinct, though now informed by a bit of experience and know-how. A horizontal swipe, same height as the Jailer¡¯s last attack. Serac mimicked herself from just seconds ago, this time with the added benefit of a full Stamina bar. She blocked with PULVERIZER, then barely had the time to acknowledge more changes to the overlay ([30!], along with the reduction of just over a fifth of the Stamina bar) before she committed to her counterattack. Raise the gun to eye level. Align the sights and lock the joints. Then steady pressure to squeeze the trigger. Gun to her head, Serac would¡¯ve sworn that she¡¯d never held a gun in her life, and yet, the way she ran through the fundamentals of marksmanship¡ªand the hefty kick of REVOLVER in her hand¡ªfelt intimately familiar. As familiar as the sensation of crossing a thousand skies in the blink of an eye¡­ A not-so-wee lead pellet¡ªthe .44 Special¡ªshot out of REVOLVER¡¯s barrel with a booming report. At nearly the same instant, it landed in the center of Porky¡¯s flabby chest, sending up a spurt of purulent blood (yuck!) along with a new number that shot to the fore of Serac¡¯s consciousness: [111!] 111? Rather than celebrating the inaugural salvo of her true rebellion, Serac found herself¡­ feeling annoyed. If she remembered correctly, Porky¡¯s morning-belt had hit her for a cool ¡®235¡¯, whatever that number meant. Compared to that, a ¡®111¡¯ was more than a little underwhelming. As if to compound her disappointment, she became aware of yet another element of the overlay. A second red bar hovered just above Porky¡¯s squished mess of a face, labeled rather superfluously with the word: [Jailer]. It too had lost a portion as Serac¡¯s attack landed, but only by about¡­ one-seventh? One-sixth at best? Serac didn¡¯t know much, but she was capable of some simple math. And the sight of her own red bar, already more than half-gone after she¡¯d barely shaved anything off Porky¡¯s, only added to her indignation. ¡°Are you telling me,¡± she groused, uncaring whether her ire had been well-directed, ¡°that I have to hit Porky six more times before¡­ what? Before I can end this fight?¡± ¡°If you only pepper him with unimbued bullets, yes, I suppose so. But again, I can¡¯t stress this enough: you have multiple tools at your disposable.¡± ¡°Fine, then why don¡¯t you enlighten¡ª¡± ¡°Rarrggh!¡± Serac¡¯s counter-snark was cut short by Porky¡¯s roar, made incoherent with rage. He bulged his muscles and swung again: a high-arcer that plunged down from the ceiling. Serac raised PULVERIZER above her horns to block ([30!]), all the while keeping her eyes¡ªand barrel¡ªpointed at the prize. Aim. Lock. Fire. [111!] The same action produced¡­ the same result. Porky¡¯s red bar went down by another piece, still leaving about five-sevenths of it intact. And by then, Serac had come to a decision. Mr Voice had urged her to explore her options, but why try something new when old thing do trick? With PULVERIZER acting as a shield, she was now the one putting out bigger numbers at each exchange of blows. As long as she stayed alert and patient, she could whittle down Porky¡¯s bar before he could do the same to hers. As long as she stayed alert and mistake-free¡­ The Jailer¡¯s next attack immediately put Serac¡¯s theory to the test. It came in as another daisy-cutter (or perhaps stone-cutter in this case), skimming the ground and driving at her feet. Instincts and experience told Serac to jump, which she did. Then, in her eagerness to stick to her game plan, she readied REVOLVER as soon as she landed. By the time she realized her mistake, she was already committed. And Porky¡¯s morning-belt came flying again, far sooner than she¡¯d expected. The reason was simple, of course. With Serac having dodged rather than blocked the daisy-cutter, it left no lag in between Porky¡¯s moves. No breathing room. Serac¡¯s counter was about to coincide with the Jailer¡¯s latest attack, with herself left momentarily defenseless. She still could and would fire her gun before the belt could hit her, but she knew it¡¯d be a futile effort. For Porky¡¯s numbers, when unmitigated, were bigger than hers, and this would be one trade too many for her to survive. REVOLVER¡¯s booming report. A spurt of pus and blood, along with another flash of [111!]. Then, something remarkable happened. Porky¡¯s attack failed to connect. Instead, the Jailer let out a phlegmy grunt, one that was perhaps a little more pitiful than what his prisoner was used to hearing. Along with that pitiful grunt, he fell to his knees, with his massive frame shaking the ground beneath. The morning-belt, along with its jangling chain, dropped harmlessly to the side. ¡°Move, Wayfarer! Now that he¡¯s Poise-broken, this is your chance to destroy him with one hit!¡± ¡°What? What? What do I do?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got limbs. Use them.¡± Mr Voice could really do with a little more directness, but he was probably right. In the short time they¡¯d spent together, Serac had learned to read between the lines of her disembodied savior¡¯s advice. And right now, his apparent obsession with and emphasis on ¡®limbs¡¯ told Serac that she ought to¡ª The Rakshasa used up a bit of her dwindling Stamina to close the gap, dashing to within an arm¡¯s length of Porky in one swift motion. She instantly regretted the proximity, as her senses were assaulted by a concoction of pus, blood, and general decay. But sometimes, a girl had to buckle down and push through all the unpleasantness life could throw at her, especially when her tormentor of gods knew how many years knelt defenseless and at her mercy. And especially when she was within an arm¡¯s length of her first step toward freedom. [Auxiliary Technique: THE GRIND] Serac punched. With her left fist and as hard as she could. Then, as if in roaring approval of her burst of anger, the craggy mass around her left arm grew outward, driving the pointy ends of its jagged rocks out and into Porky¡¯s face. The ugliest mug this side of the Sanzu River disappeared into a mess of rattling rock and shredded flesh. Serac watched on in frozen horror and morbid fascination as PULVERIZER pulverized its latest victim and slurped up the sloppy seconds. By the time all was said and done, Serac¡¯s entire focus had condensed onto two objects. Well, more accurately, one object and a missing head. Well, more accurately than that, a missing head and a number that floated from nowhere. [703!] Porky¡¯s red bar emptied in an instant. His body, rotund and less towering than before by exactly one head, slid and fell backwards. Serac expected a loud thud¡ªand even braced herself for it¡ªbut the thud didn¡¯t come. Indeed, Porky the Jailer made no sound at all in his final moments. For even before his corpse could hit the floor, it evaporated. Utterly and without a trace. Solid into liquid into vapor into soul. 4. Mr Voice 4. Mr Voice Once again, the physical blended with the metaphysical into a sensation that Serac could only describe as ¡®believing what she was seeing¡¯. What she saw with her naked eye was the dissolution and disappearance of Porky¡¯s lifeless body. What she understood, however, was that Porky himself (or his soul, at any rate) had been resorbed into the ether¡ªinto the interstitium that filled the unseen spaces between the tangible and the ever-present. Wait, what? The interstitium? The tangible and the ever-present? These were not words Serac would¡¯ve used to describe anything she knew about the world around her, and yet, they now came to her unprompted, fully formed, and readily understood. She knew that Porky or the essence that defined and tethered him to his place in hell still swirled about the vicinity with its petulant menace, ready to go right back to grunting and belt-slinging at the earliest opportunity. She knew this with a conviction that required no primer and brooked no doubt. Because she herself now held the evidence within her own soul. ¡°What you just experienced,¡± Mr Voice again, ¡°is Karma transfer. Your smiting of a Hellspawn Aberrant has been recognized and credited with the proportional amount of Karma. The fellow you just dispatched, as angry and surprisingly inventive as he was, was still just your run-of-the-mill Jailer. All that to say the returns are somewhat modest, but I daresay there are worse ways to whet your appetite.¡± Even as Mr Voice spoke, Serac¡¯s overlay sparked with new information: [300 ?]. ¡°Karma?¡± Serac frowned. ¡°Is this any different to the Karma that supposedly determines what happens to a soul when they die?¡± ¡°The very same.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could count Karma!¡± Serac widened her eyes, just now starting to feel self-conscious about talking so loudly when she was ostensibly alone. ¡°I mean, I guess there had to be a way to measure it, but I never imagined you could attach real numbers to it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s one of the perks of becoming a Wayfarer. The Devas are watching you now, Serac Edin, and say what you will about them, but they are meticulous with their accounting.¡± For a short while, Serac sat with that revelation¡ªboth spoken and read between the lines. Then all the questions she¡¯d been holding back in the interest of survival came flooding out with a vengeance. ¡°That reminds me,¡± she said, ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask what this partnership is even about. You said I¡¯m not to¡ªwhat was it?¡ªdeviate from REVOLVER¡¯s intended use until our ¡®shared goal¡¯ is achieved. What goal, and how does this six-shooter figure into it?¡± ¡°In the interest of flow, I¡¯ll take the liberty to answer that question in reverse. You ask how the Instrument in your hand is meant to help with our goal. It¡¯s simple, really. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve surmised by now that REVOLVER is no ordinary six-shooter. Each of its six chambers has the potential to imbue a bullet with a magical property, and that potential will be unlocked in a step-wise manner with each milestone on our journey. In other words, it¡¯s a weapon that grows stronger along with its wielder, and it¡¯s sure to be an invaluable asset, given the kinds of obstacles you¡¯re likely to face.¡± Serac subconsciously shifted her gaze toward the vaunted talisman in her right hand. Now that she was no longer in immediate danger, she decided to take a closer look at the engravings upon REVOLVER¡¯s lotus-white grip. It was a dense configuration of symbols and geometric shapes¡ªdots, squares, diamonds, wheels, waves, crescent moons, flower petals, and more¡ªwhich all came together to form a circular pattern. Serac had no clue what each of the individual symbols was meant to represent, but the sight of all of them together woke an amorphous memory, yet another that she wasn¡¯t entirely sure belonged solely to herself. Somehow, the memory told her that the object depicted by the engravings was called a mandala¡ªcircle, unity, the universe. ¡°Yes,¡± Mr Voice gave his approval of Serac¡¯s ¡®private¡¯ deductions, ¡°and just as I suspected, this flows back nicely into the first part of your question. What is our ¡®shared goal¡¯? What is the ideal you¡¯ve committed your service to, the failure to abide by which will result in your forfeiture of and by a Deific Instrument? Why, this answer is even simpler than the last. You and I are going to summit Mount Meru. Ascend its Six Realms, all the way to the top. And for that, I need you to procure a lot of Karma.¡± For at least a brief moment, Serac was in no danger of having her thoughts read by a sentient six-shooter. Because her mind had gone completely blank. ¡°It goes without saying that you¡¯ve got your task cut out for you,¡± Mr Voice went on, evidently having interpreted Serac¡¯s blankness to his own satisfaction, ¡°given that you¡¯ve started from the literal bottom. Naraka: the lowliest of the three Lowly Realms. And from the pits of its subterranean prison to boot. But let me assure you, Wayfarer. Stick with me, and I will show you the world. All of it. To Pretjord and to Tidereign after that. Then onto the three Virtuous Realms: Manesfera, Suradao, and yes, even Devalem. Imagine it, Serac Edin! By the time I¡¯m through with you, you will be a god.¡± When the day had started, Serac couldn¡¯t even crack a good-natured joke with her Jailer without being reduced to a sniveling wreck. From the lowliest inmate in the lowest pits of hell to¡­ a literal god? Surely not. As a pragmatic realist, Serac knew that a girl could dream, but also that there were hard limits to how much a girl could achieve. And yet¡­ The power to topple a mountain with the snap of a finger. To cross a thousand skies in the blink of an eye. ¡°¡­ You¡¯ve gone uncharacteristically quiet,¡± Mr Voice said, which struck Serac as rather odd. Hadn¡¯t he ¡®heard¡¯ her latest thoughts? ¡°Is something the matter? You¡¯re not getting cold feet, are you? Regardless of the circumstances under which it came to be, our agreement is final. I will hold you to it, even if I have to¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± When Serac cut in, a wry and somewhat defensive smile curled one corner of her mouth. ¡°You and I barely know each other, and now you want me to go on a Realms-trotting adventure with you? You want to show me the world? And you even managed to say that with a straight face (I assume)! All I¡¯m saying is¡­ could you cool your jets? Take things slow? At least buy me dinner first?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Take things slow? But we haven¡¯t achieved anything! You haven¡¯t even left your first Waystation, for heaven¡¯s sake! The longer you spend dallying and second-guessing, the farther we drift from our goal. Now, will you do this with me, or will I have to resort to¡­ more direct forms of encouragement? I don¡¯t want us to step off on the wrong foot, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m above wielding my powers as I see fit.¡± ¡°Whoa, whoa, easy there, chief.¡± Serac let out a nervous chuckle, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm. She hated herself for falling back on a familiar address for Porky¡ªthat object of fear she¡¯d had to appease and cajole all her life. Yet, right now, Mr Voice was the very thing she had to appease and cajole. ¡°No one said anything about backing out. But would it hurt us to get to know each other a little? You seem so hell-bent on reaching the top of Mount Meru, but you haven¡¯t told me why. So, why don¡¯t we start there?¡± This was followed by a pause, one in which Serac felt fully exposed while she herself could read nothing of Mr Voice¡¯s thoughts. Subconsciously, her free hand (albeit weighed down by a mass of rocks that still dripped with fresh Jailer blood) twitched and drifted upward, almost in anticipation of the Penitent¡¯s Circlet closing around her head. ¡°Very well,¡± Mr Voice eventually said. Meanwhile, the Circlet maintained its baseline tension, allowing Serac to relax. ¡°But I¡¯ll have you know that I¡¯m under no obligation to answer your questions. I also don¡¯t particularly see the point. All souls should strive to achieve as much as they can during their afterlife, if only to facilitate a nobler existence on their inevitable Rebirth into the Mundane. What more reasons do you require? But very well, I will give you an answer in the interest of camaraderie and a healthy working relationship.¡± ¡°Sounds good to me, chief.¡± Serac hid a sigh of relief, wondering at the same time if there was any use hiding anything from Mr Voice. ¡°Lay it on me.¡± ¡°It shouldn¡¯t come as a surprise to you that I too am a soul, much like yourself. Due to a spot of trouble in my former life, I had the misfortune of becoming Unmoored¡ªfrom the Six Realms as well as my own physical vessel. Luckily, as the previous wielder of REVOLVER, I found a way to attach myself to its essence as it lay dormant between transmutations. That was how I found you. And as much as it pains me to admit this, I¡¯m as reliant on you as you are on me. You will be my proxy for re-scaling Mount Meru¡ªto restore the former glory of my existence¡ªwhile I shall be your ticket to freedom. Isn¡¯t that what you value above all else, Serac Edin? Isn¡¯t it the very reason you entrusted yourself to me in the first place?¡± Serac let out a low whistle in a feeble attempt to mask the disturbance within her soul. She then tried and failed to suppress the pounding of her heart. Even with that bit of confession, Mr Voice continued to keep things from her¡ªthings that were difficult to glean from between the lines. He did so unapologetically, knowing Serac would¡¯ve expected him to be less than forthright and still have no way to do anything about it. Freedom? Despite her unfamiliarity with the subject, she doubted this was what freedom ought to feel like. REVOLVER had certainly been ¡®instrumental¡¯ in her breaking free from Porky the Jailer, but as things stood, she¡¯d only gone out of the frying pan and into the fire. Not only that, but her subjugator had also undergone a considerable upgrade: from a mean Narakite Jailer to someone¡ªif Mr Voice were to be taken at his word¡ªwho¡¯d seen the peak of Mount Meru! Had he also started out as a confused ¡®Wayfarer¡¯ like herself? Or had he always been one of the Deities that ran things from atop their ivory tower in Devalem? Not that Serac had remotely the reference point to understand what that was like¡­ And yet, as much as she was a realist, she was also a pragmatist. And that pragmatist saw no reason why she couldn¡¯t use Mr Voice as much he intended to exploit her. ¡°Why me?¡± ¡°¡­ What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean exactly that. Why did you choose me, out of all the poor souls you could¡¯ve hitched a ride with? Assuming you did have a choice. You didn¡¯t just wander aimlessly until you latched onto the first soul that let you, did you? Surely not, what with such lofty goals like yours¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯d be correct in that assumption,¡± Mr Voice said quickly¡ªalmost defensively. Then he took a moment to choose his next words. ¡°Even before I came Unmoored, I always had a certain perceptiveness¡ªcall it a sixth sense, if you will¡ªabout the true nature and worth of a soul. And yours just happened to shine brightest and scream out the loudest. A Rakshasa you may be, Anchored to the lowliest Realm, yet your soul burns with ambition and a restless energy that belie your meager stature. You don¡¯t belong in the lowest pits of hell, Serac Edin. And I intend to find out just how high you can climb.¡± That¡¯s right, and you best never forget it. Satisfied that she¡¯d at least clawed back some semblance of respectability in this highly unbalanced ¡®working relationship¡¯ of theirs, Serac decided she could turn to other matters. Including a question that, while perhaps not as urgent as some others, had nevertheless been bugging her for the longest time. ¡°What¡¯s your name, anyway?¡± ¡°¡­ My name?¡± ¡°Yeah! You know mine, so it¡¯s only fair that I learn yours. I¡¯ve been thinking of you as ¡®Mr Voice¡¯ this whole time, but I think we both know that¡¯s not meant to be a permanent arrangement.¡± ¡°I¡­ frankly don¡¯t care. I lost my claim to my previous name at the moment of my Unmooring, and I¡¯ve not had a need for another one since. Call me whatever you wish. Even ¡®REVOLVER¡¯, if that suits your¡ª¡± ¡°What was that thing about the Manusya firearm REVOLVER was modeled after? Something like¡­ Simon & Wesley Triple Lock? ¡®Triple Lock¡¯¡­ I kinda like that. Badass in an understated sort of way. But it¡¯s one too many syllables for a proper nickname between friends.¡± ¡°¡­ Were you going to suggest an alternative?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already decided on it, actually. Trippy! That¡¯s what I¡¯m calling you from now on. You¡¯re going to respond to it, and you¡¯re going to like it. I mean¡­ it is pretty damn ¡®trippy¡¯, isn¡¯t it? That we¡¯re even having this conversation?¡± This was followed by a pause, one in which Serac was oddly content with her present place in the universe while Mr Voice appeared to her like an open book. She sensed his considering her ¡®decision¡¯, perhaps even trying it on for size. In the end, his response began with an audible sigh. ¡°Very well. Trippy, it is. Like I said, I really couldn¡¯t care less what you¡ª¡± ¡°Awesome! Well, Trippy, what¡¯s next? I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re anxious for me to leave this Waystation behind (even though it¡¯s really pretty to look at), but I really have no clue where I¡¯m supposed to go next. Now that we¡¯re free to do whatever we like, what¡¯s our first order of business, partner?¡± This was followed by a relatively brief pause, one in which both Wayfarer and her Unmoored companion took stock of each other¡¯s readiness for and commitment to the shared journey ahead. ¡°Why, isn¡¯t it obvious? Our first task is a prison break. We need to get you out of the Damnatorium and for good.¡± 5. Pathsight 5. Pathsight ¡°Strictly speaking, there are a few more odds and ends I ought to apprise you of. Call it the basics of Wayfaring. However, I¡¯d still prefer that you learn on the job. Go on, then. Head outside and see if you can¡¯t make heads and tails out of this godsforsaken place.¡± Serac hastened to obey, mostly because she herself was getting antsy just standing in one place. Now that she was out of her cell, and now that the operator in charge of her Circlet was a ¡®collaborator¡¯ in the form of a powerful weapon, her entire world had expanded in size and scope. Time to see what the rest of the Damnatorium had to offer to a newly initiated and Karma-hungry Wayfarer. The first thing she noticed was the noise. The corridor outside the room-formerly-known-as-the-Pulverizer was still empty, but both its darkened ends echoed with forlorn wails and barked commands. The prison riot was still in full swing, which Serac could only assume would be to her benefit. ¡°Which way should I go?¡± ¡°As much as I¡¯d love nothing more than to hold your hand through every step of our journey, I¡¯m now paired to your soul, and therefore limited in my perception. Your guess is as good as mine, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯re perfectly capable of making your own decisions and living with their consequences.¡± I see Trippy is every bit as snarky as Mr Voice. Serac smirked, both for her own benefit and Trippy¡¯s, then set about making some decisions. She had her choice of which end of the corridor to investigate, and it took no time for her to decide on the one that led away from her erstwhile jail cell. The road less traveled¡ªand therefore the one that offered new possibilities. She made her way down the narrow passageway, one in which the surfaces formed a continuous floor-wall-ceiling¡ªa pleated tube, not unlike the inside of an intestine. It even smelled like intestines too, and Serac was eager to pick up the pace and move onto a more pleasant area of the Damnatorium, if such a thing existed. As she progressed, the ambient commotion picked up in volume and intensity, until one of its participants jumped out of the shadows to bar her way. They took the form of an emaciated figure in tattered rags, complete with soiled yet distinctly red skin as well as a pair of onyx horns in varying states of deterioration. A Rakshasa like herself. One of her inmates, perhaps? But¡­ something was amiss. The way they pitched and swerved from side to side in an irregular pattern. The peculiar angles at which their joints bent and shuddered with every lurching step. And perhaps most disturbing of all, their eyes¡ªor the yawning red holes where their eyes should¡¯ve been. ¡°Perfect. Ready your arms, Wayfarer. It¡¯s time to resume your education.¡± ¡°Wait, you want me to, um, smite that? Shouldn¡¯t we try to help them instead? They look like they might be sick!¡± An audible sigh. ¡°You could try, if you wish. I won¡¯t stop you. Like I said, the best lessons are learned the hard¡ª¡± But Trippy needed not finish his sentence to have his point made for him. For that was when the newcomer lurched close enough to Serac to then lunge at her in one go, fingers spread and claws bared. ¡°Whoa!¡± Once again, instinct guided the Wayfarer as she sidestepped the sudden attack. Beside her, the would-be bear-hugger grabbed a whole lot of foul-smelling air before blundering into a crevice between the pleats of the intestine. Serac then took advantage of her counterpart¡¯s mishap to¡­ sprint to safety, eating up a chunk of Stamina as she did. Even with two brand new weapons at her disposal, and even against a fellow inmate that looked even worse for wear than herself, she couldn¡¯t quite overcome her meek prisoner mentality. An audible tsk. ¡°A pathetic display, but it¡¯s just as well, seeing as how it¡¯s given me the opportunity to talk you through this fight. And you will fight, now that you¡¯ve seen what this thing tried to do to you. Besides, why let a perfectly good source of Karma go to waste?¡± ¡°But¡­ what¡¯s wrong with them? Can¡¯t they see that I¡¯m not one of the Jailers? That I mean them no harm?¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound all that convincing, what with that gun in your hand. As to why this Penitent is behaving the way it is, you might find the answer written plainly upon Pathsight. Take a look.¡± Pathsight? Was that the name for these messages from nowhere that populated Serac¡¯s vision? She looked, and sure enough, found a full red bar hovering over the other Rakshasa¡¯s head, just as the latter managed to pull themselves out of the pleated wall. This one was labeled rather ominously: [Frenzied Penitent]. Even before Serac could give word to her thoughts, Trippy came back with an explanation, ¡°Indeed, Pathsight is the catch-all moniker for the ¡®system¡¯ that was devised by a Deity some Kalpas ago, long before either of our times. Prior to the advent of the system, discerning the flow of Karma and therefore determining the appropriate dispositions of souls used to be an inexact art¡ªmore madness than method. At some point, even the Devas got sick of all the extra work and decided to streamline the process, in a manner of speaking. In any case, it¡¯s thanks to Pathsight that a Wayfarer such as yourself can interact at a metaphysical level with the world around you¡ªand perhaps more importantly, with yourself. I trust you¡¯ve already taken ample notice of your own HP bar?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the red one, right? The one that hasn¡¯t filled back up since Porky took off about a half of it?¡± ¡°Given what you observed during the fight with the Jailer, I¡¯m sure you can put two and two together. Hit Points are the numerical representation of the robustness of your physical form. Lose all of them, and you¡¯re reduced to Souldust, forced to relinquish any Liminal Karma you¡¯ve yet to internalize and to await reconstitution at the nearest Waystation. Just so you¡¯re aware, your current total is 252/577. A couple of ill-defended hits would take you out, so do be careful.¡± ¡°Wait, I can lose my Karma?¡± Serac cried out in dismay, thinking back to the strenuous efforts with which she¡¯d earned her current batch. ¡°That¡­ seems like an overly harsh penalty, doesn¡¯t it?¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. (Harsher than death itself, though?) ¡°If you have complaints, take it up with the Deity that first designed the system. There is a way to recover your lost Karma, but I¡¯m hoping for that particular lesson to materialize in a more organic¡ªlook out!¡± The ¡®Frenzied Penitent¡¯ came for Serac again, along with an oddly strangled shout that sounded more animal than Rakshasa. Their movements were identical to their previous attack, however, and Serac easily sidestepped it again with plenty of Stamina to spare. ¡°Let¡¯s see how well you multi-task. Heed well my instructions and try not to embarrass me by dying to this pathetic excuse for a creature. Now, give your focus to REVOLVER. Then tell me if you¡¯ve noticed something new on Pathsight.¡± ¡°Something new? What do you¡ªoh.¡± A new set of numbers. One that appeared to almost ¡®wrap around¡¯ her right forearm, becoming clearer and more prominent as her conscious thoughts attuned to the gun in her hand: [3|30]. ¡°That¡¯s your Cartridge, the proprietary resource consumed by REVOLVER. Every Instrument is tied to a unique resource type, and REVOLVER¡¯s happens to be Cartridge. The left number indicates how many bullets are currently loaded in the cylinder, and the right number is your spare ammunition.¡± ¡°Spare? But I don¡¯t have any¡ªoh.¡± As soon as Serac gave thought to the concept of spare ammunition, she became aware of the belt around her Penitent¡¯s rags, one that definitely hadn¡¯t been there when she¡¯d still been a lowly prisoner. It was of a sturdy (and spike-less) leather construction, much cleaner and more fashionable than the one Porky had used as a DIY weapon. A number (presumably 30, just a wild guess) of brass-cased cartridges lined the circumference of the belt, within easy reach of a Wayfarer who might be interested in reloading her firearm, should the need arise. ¡°Right now, however, three bullets should be more than enough. Go on, Wayfarer. Give this Frenzied Penitent a divine taste of lead.¡± Jeez, this Trippy is a bit of an edgelord on top of being a snarker, huh. But the Penitent in question had come for her again, with the singular tenacity of a prisoner suffering through their prescribed punishment. The sight of her fellow Rakshasa, thus reduced to a mindless husk, woke in Serac a violent impulse of her own. An impulse, not to destroy, but to save. Aim. Lock. Fire. The fundamentals of marksmanship¡ªoddly enough the only part of Serac¡¯s new existence that she took to without hesitation, almost like second nature. The bullet found its mark, as she knew it would, spraying more decayed flesh from the Penitent¡¯s body. [128!]. At the same time, their HP bar went down by nearly half. But the Penitent showed no signs of stopping, nor even of having felt any pain. ¡°Again!¡± Serac stood her ground and fired a second time. [128!]. The Penitent¡¯s HP went down by another large chunk, leaving behind just a thin sliver of red. Still, they kept coming, bloodied hands reaching for Serac¡¯s throat, the hollows where eyes used to be pointed squarely on the object of their unknowable hunger. ¡°One more!¡± Serac fired a third time, now at point-blank range. By then, the Penitent¡¯s hands had nearly reached her, and indeed, one of the claws even grazed against her cheek. But this third and final hit of [128!] had finally reduced their HP to nothing, and the claw stopped short of drawing blood, as it and the rest of the Penitent¡¯s ¡®physical form¡¯ dissolved into Souldust. Serac stood her ground and watched it all happen, with her own intact eyes still aligned with REVOLVER¡¯s sights. She watched, expressionless, until the last particle of her fallen foe¡¯s soul faded into thin air. That was how a newly initiated Wayfarer learned¡ªthe hard way¡ªthat not every instance of ¡®smiting¡¯ was created equal. When Serac had dealt the finishing blow to Porky the Jailer, she¡¯d felt one part surprise, one part confusion, and a massive dose of relief (and maybe even a drop of genuine satisfaction). Now, however, as she killed (let¡¯s call it what it was) a fellow Rakshasan inmate she knew neither the face nor name of, the foremost emotion was that of sorrow. For she knew that this ¡®Frenzied Peninent¡¯ could easily have been her. Perhaps in another life. Or perhaps in this very one, had a sentient six-shooter not fallen into her hand. Somewhere along the edges of Serac¡¯s consciousness, Pathsight diligently displayed the practical outcome of a Wayfarer¡¯s latest kill. [80 ?]. A pitifully small number compared to the hulking Jailers that had driven this prisoner to frenzy. This number joined Serac¡¯s previous total, indicating that she now had [380 ?] of ¡®Liminal Karma¡¯. More questions flowed into Serac¡¯s mind, but she didn¡¯t voice them immediately. Trippy, for his part, also remained silent, perhaps sensing and acquiescing to the source of his mentee¡¯s somber mood. In the end, Serac was the first to break the silence. ¡°What happens to souls when we die?¡± ¡°I should think that you already know the answer. As should all sentients who roam the slopes of Mount Meru.¡± ¡°Teach me, please. I just need to learn it again¡­ the easy way, this time.¡± ¡°¡­ Very well. When our physical forms perish, we become Souldust, to be resorbed into the Interstitium that fills the metaphysical spaces left behind by the physical world. Then, depending on the soul¡¯s status, one of three things can happen. ¡°Most souls are firmly Anchored. After enough time has passed, they¡¯ll simply reincarnate in the same Realm where they died. Then they¡¯ll have another opportunity to see if they might improve their lot in the afterlife. ¡°Some souls, as you¡¯ve recently discovered, are Wayfarers. They¡¯re monitored by Pathsight, and provided they¡¯ve met the conditions for it, may ascend to a higher Realm upon reincarnation. You, Serac Edin, are still a long way off from even thinking about ascension, but when the time comes, you can count on me to guide you through it. ¡°Still others, by the whims of the larger universe that none of us¡ªnot even the Devas¡ªfully understand, will be Reborn into the Mundane¡ªan entirely new plane of existence. No one knows for sure what happens to these souls on the other side of Rebirth, but suffice to say, they would¡¯ve shed all memories of the Kalpas they¡¯d spent toiling in the afterlife.¡± Serac found herself frowning, absent-mindedly and without really knowing why. As far as she could tell, Trippy had been generous and sincere with his summary, and yet, something about it caught against memories that might or might not have belonged solely to her. One of three outcomes? Really? Wasn¡¯t there also a¡ª Serac shook her head, dispelling a thought that was as unsettling in its implication as it was murky in its origin. She quickly changed tack, ¡°That Penitent I just killed¡ª¡± ¡°Smited.¡± ¡°Killed. Do you think¡­ they¡¯ll ever find a way out of this shithole? If not in their next life, then maybe the one after that? And if not in that one, then maybe¡­¡± Her words trailed off, along with any thread of coherent thought. Even Trippy, at least for a moment, seemed lost in contemplation. When he spoke again, his words, as characteristically stoic as they were, nevertheless contained within them a touch of unexpected warmth. ¡°Back where I come from, there¡¯s an old saying: the Ksanas are long, but the Kalpas are short. I suggest, Wayfarer, that you take this journey one Ksana at a time. Keep your focus on the present and the immediate task at hand, lest you lose yourself to time¡¯s great and indifferent scourge. And I suggest also that you reload your weapon. The cylinder should¡¯ve emptied by now, and you¡¯ll need more ammunition for what¡¯s about to come.¡± 6. Imbuement 6. Imbuement The intestinal corridor led out onto an enormous room with sky-high ceilings. Here, Serac saw for the first time the full extent of the mass chaos that had befallen the Damnatorium¡ªthe genesis of which she herself had unwittingly been party to. The room itself was roughly cylindrical in shape, with a vast circular base upon which Serac now stood. It extended upward in distinct segments, with blood-slick footholds that sloped into a sort of spiral staircase. Yet, the room¡¯s most striking feature filled the central space that corresponded to its ¡®stairwell¡¯. At least hundreds¡ªperhaps even thousands¡ªof grape-like sacs, each of them just large enough to house a Rakshasa if they perhaps folded and hugged their knees, hung from the ceiling in dense clusters, tied together by gelatinous ropes. Even as Serac gazed up in amazement, these jail cells¡ªfor that was what they were¡ªshook and swayed precariously in the air, whipped about by whistling winds. Serac saw this and understood that this whole space was just another torture device, one in which the inmates were kept in a constant state of vertiginous acrophobia. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of this place¡­¡± She murmured in awed sympathy, counting herself at least partially lucky for having never experienced this particular form of punishment. ¡°I think they call it the Aviary.¡± ¡°It never ceases to amaze me just how creative these Hellspawns can get,¡± Trippy observed, with sarcasm tempered by genuine respect. ¡°You¡¯d think these wretched souls could¡¯ve put their enthusiasm and ingenuity to a nobler cause. Do you see? This entire structure was modeled after the lobes of a lung, with each of these sacs representing an alveolus. I¡¯ll wager that the very top of the room is somehow connected to the outdoors, in order to allow for a constant movement of air. That passage, should we find it, may well be our ticket out of the Damnatorium altogether.¡± ¡°Well¡­ seems like air isn¡¯t the only thing that¡¯s getting in and out right now. Look!¡± Serac pointed to one ¡®alveolar sac¡¯ in particular, but in fact, there were too many examples to count. The hanging cells of the Aviary presently swayed, not only from the wind, but also from the numerous inmates that climbed out of them and tugged at the adjoining ropes. Many of them had already made the jump onto the spiral stairs, only to then face off against Jailers that rumbled about the place brandishing their tethered weapons. What was more, it looked like some of these inmates were even winning. ¡°Now, that¡¯s what I call a riot!¡± Serac enthused. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen so many inmates running around in one place. It¡¯s actually¡­ kind of inspiring.¡± ¡°Call it what you will, but the important thing is we can use this to our advantage! Quickly now, let¡¯s climb this lung to its ¡®apex¡¯ and see about finding that airway. I even permit you to follow your cowardly instincts and sneak your way through. Blend into the crowd if you can. Wouldn¡¯t want to risk us getting overwhelmed by sheer numbers¡­¡± ¡°Uh¡­ it might already be a bit late for that.¡± Serac pointed again, this time at a lumbering figure that descended the stairs against the grain. A Jailer, just as tall, pale, and ugly as Porky, if a little more slimly built. It shouted unintelligible orders and held up a weapon (another six-shooter) as it approached, as if Serac was just another rioter making an escape attempt (which¡­ she supposed she was, strictly speaking). ¡°Trippy?¡± Serac called out uncertainly. ¡°Got any more advice for me?¡± ¡°Be patient and wait just a Ksana or two. A Deific Instrument though it may be, REVOLVER is still modeled after a six-shooter, with its limitations and imperfections. It has its effective range and will lose accuracy beyond that distance, no matter who wields it.¡± ¡°Well, sure, but wouldn¡¯t the Jailer¡¯s six-shooter also have the same¡ª?¡± Before the Wayfarer could finish her thought, the Jailer across from her stopped and pointed its gun straight at her, evidently satisfied with the distance in question. Serac in turn flinched, rather uselessly and with her left hand once again jerking toward the Penitent¡¯s Circlet around her head. She¡¯d seen this exact scenario play out far too many times, and despite her newfound ¡®freedom¡¯, old habits died hard¡ªperhaps even harder than Wayfaring souls. But the pain didn¡¯t come, and the Circlet itself remained inert. Just another reminder that its control had been fully ceded to Trippy and Trippy alone. Serac shook her head, half-amused half-embarrassed, then raised REVOLVER to align its sights upon the floundering figure of the Jailer, who even now took its eyes off Serac to inspect its ¡®defective¡¯ cattle prod with a stupefied expression. If this distance was good enough for the Jailer, then it was certainly good enough for Serac. She aimed, locked, and¡ª ¡°Wait! Now that you¡¯re fully loaded, the next cartridge should be seated in Chamber One. This is the perfect opportunity for you to learn imbuement. Do you still remember how you managed to destroy the Pulverizer earlier?¡± ¡°Er¡­ you mean how I lay in a pool of mush and just blindly pulled the trigger?¡± ¡°Not pulled. Squeezed. But yes, exactly. You were in a state of profound and utter submission. Weighed down by the hopeless enormity of your sins. Ready and willing to repent with every uniform fiber of your being.¡± ¡°¡­ I feel like you¡¯re just putting words in my mouth, but if this is leading to something, you¡¯d better get to it soon!¡± ¡°I want you to recall and channel that exceptional state of mind. I want you to picture clearly the bullet that sits inside Chamber One. And when you squeeze the trigger, I want you to give something of your body, mind, and soul to this singular endeavor. Repent. At your current HP¡­ I daresay this will be enough to finish the Jailer in one shot.¡± Really? A way to end the fight in one shot? Well, why didn¡¯t you teach me this earlier? Serac took to the task eagerly, finding to her surprise that it was relatively simple to remanifest the pure shambles that had been herself as a pool of mush. Such had been the sheer trauma the experience had instilled in her, and such had been the general misery of her existence in the lowest pits of hell¡ªready and willing to repent at the drop of a hat, a prod from a Jailer, or in this case, the behest of a sentient six-shooter.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it And only when she¡¯d already half-squeezed REVOLVER¡¯s trigger was she visited by a real sense of foreboding¡­ along with the realization that she was about to learn¡ªthe hard way¡ªwhy she couldn¡¯t and shouldn¡¯t end every fight with one shot. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [115!] ¡°Ow!¡± The bullet all but exploded out of the barrel, giving clear visual representation of what the erstwhile mush-Serac could only sense from between the Pulverizer¡¯s teeth. Fully-intact-Serac also ¡®sensed¡¯ the explosion alright, but in the form of a gut punch from nowhere that knocked the wind out of her and left her reeling. The payload itself, having been ¡®imbued¡¯ by REVOLVER¡¯s magic, proved to be no ordinary lead pellet. It burst through the air as a concentrated beam of black flames, which then fanned out as they made contact with the Jailer¡¯s burly frame. [133!] 133? An improvement over an ¡®unimbued¡¯ bullet, but it struck Serac as rather paltry returns for the severity of her own pain. And it certainly wasn¡¯t enough to erase her enemy¡¯s HP bar in one shot as Trippy had promised! But no, she¡¯d judged too soon, for [Catharsis] wasn¡¯t yet done purging the world of its sins. Across from her, the Jailer first looked up with dull surprise as black flames lapped against its chest. Then its face quickly contorted in pain and horror as the fire spread across its torso, then onto its limbs, before engulfing its whole body. [133!], [208!] Serac¡¯s own expression mirrored that of the Jailer¡¯s as she took note of the second damage number. But her counterpart¡¯s face had already disappeared behind a veil of raging black flames, as the Jailer let go of its six-shooter and swung its gorilla arms about in a desperate attempt at self-firefighting. [133!], [208!], [416!] [Catharsis] exacted its third and harshest punishment, oblivious to its victim¡¯s flailing limbs and terrified shriek. At the same time, the Jailer stopped moving altogether, having either lost its strength or accepted its fate. It fell to its charred knees, sending more vibrations toward Serac¡¯s feet. Then the three damage numbers merged, thereby announcing [Catharsis]¡¯s final toll on a hapless Jailer¡¯s physical form. [757!]. Even in her dazed horror, Serac somehow had the presence of mind to appreciate the utility of Pathsight¡¯s in-built calculator. She also took care to watch her enemy¡¯s HP bar, which had decremented in three enlarging pieces before emptying altogether. And sure enough, the Jailer¡¯s blackened remains now burned down into Souldust, just as [Catharsis]¡¯s flames waned. [380 ?] + [300 ?] -> [680 ?] And that was that. Trippy hadn¡¯t lied after all. Serac had indeed expended just the one cartridge to burn a whole Jailer to a crisp, and she was now another [300 ?] worth of Karma richer for the experience. Yet, all things considered, she felt as though she¡¯d paid a steeper price than she¡¯d bargained for. That initial self-damage. The accompanying pain. Not to mention the shock and terror of witnessing her own arsonist handiwork. If anything, she now felt more repentant than before she¡¯d squeezed the trigger! ¡°Remember that sequence,¡± came Trippy¡¯s debrief, cool as you like. ¡°Remember how you first activated this imbuement, as well as the three-stage nature of its damage effect. Not every foe you face will be as witlessly cooperative as this Jailer turned out to be. You¡¯ll have to be an astute judge of when and how to use [Catharsis], lest you waste its damage potential. Besides, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noted that you won¡¯t always have the necessary ¡®resource¡¯ on hand to fire it off.¡± ¡°Because it eats a chunk of my own HP? Thanks for telling me that, by the way. And thanks for leaving me like one hit away from dying now.¡± ¡°Not just your HP,¡± Trippy explained, not bothering to hide a touch of mockery in his voice, ¡°but also your MP. See that blue bar?¡± Serac looked, in spite of herself, and readily saw what Trippy meant. Of the three colored bars that occupied one corner of Pathsight, the blue one had always been the stubbiest, now made even stubbier after Serac¡¯s latest misadventure. ¡°Mana Points are another one of the primary resources made interactable to a Wayfarer. In short, it¡¯s what you spend to activate the various forms of magic you¡¯ll be picking up throughout your journey. In fact, you¡¯ve already spent a portion of it during your very first fight¡ªagainst the one you called ¡®Porky¡¯. [The Grind], PULVERIZER¡¯s Auxiliary Technique, cost 25 points. And you used a further 21 points just now with [Catharsis], bringing your current total down to 22/68. Now, I trust even a Narakite such as you would know enough basic arithmetic to¡ª¡± ¡°Yes, yes, I only have enough MP to cast [Catharsis] one more time! Seriously, man, what kind of an idiot do you take me for?¡± ¡°¡­ I sense that I might¡¯ve upset you in some way.¡± ¡°Really? Noo¡­ Why would I be upset? What possible reason could I have to be upset about anything?¡± Sometimes, a girl just had to cross her arms and pout. That time was now, but Serac found her path to self-consolation blocked¡­ by the jagged rocks around her left arm, as well as the sentient six-shooter in her right hand. In the end, she settled for balling up her fists and having an angry staring contest with the patch of singed floor that was now the only physical evidence of the latest ¡®hard¡¯ lesson Trippy had imparted to her. ¡°¡­ Perhaps you¡¯re not entirely wrong. Perhaps it does behoove me to¡­ reconsider my approach to mentorship.¡± Serac¡¯s ears perked up. Her fists loosened somewhat. Could it be? Was that¡­ apology she heard in Trippy¡¯s voice? ¡°You have to understand, Wayfarer. It¡¯s been an age since I¡¯ve worked so closely with¡­ anyone of your background. And in that time, I seem to have lost sight of perspective. You¡¯ve led a hard life, Serac Edin. Perhaps more than one. There¡¯s no cause for me to become the latest of souls to antagonize you so. If you¡¯ll forgive my earlier indiscretions, I shall strive to be a less cynical¡ªand perhaps kinder¡ªcollaborator.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Serac sputtered, more than a little taken aback. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ I mean it¡¯s all¡­ Look, maybe it goes both ways, you know? Maybe I need to toughen up too. Gods know I¡¯m already miles better off than where I was before I met you.¡± ¡°And you will toughen up. But on your own time. Meanwhile, I¡¯ll do my best to rein in my impatience¡­ and trust that you¡¯re good value for the ambition that drew me to you in the first place.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ thanks, I guess? ¡­ No, yeah. Thank you for saying that. And I¡¯ll do my best to remember that I have as high an opinion of myself as you seem to have of me.¡± Sometimes, a girl just had to unball her fists and scratch awkwardly at her face, waiting to see how her companion might navigate the rest of this unexpectedly candid conversation. Thankfully, this particular companion managed to rise to the occasion. ¡°Shall we, Wayfarer? It¡¯s a long climb to the top, which should give me plenty of time to bring you up to speed.¡± 7. Of Poise and Zen 7. Of Poise and Zen An unlikely duo of a Rakshasan prisoner and a sentient six-shooter had set out to scale all of Mount Meru, but first, they had to climb the spiral stairs of the Aviary. Baby steps. As was appropriate for baby¡¯s first foray into Wayfaring, the education of Serac Edin continued, now with a less cynical and somewhat kinder Trippy dropping theory with plenty of buffer before practice. ¡°The next mechanic you need to understand is Poise,¡± he explained while Serac crouched low and snuck past a Jailer that was gleefully shoving inmates off the ledge and down the stairwell. ¡°Every attack in the afterlife, in theory at least, deals damage to two separate parameters that are definable by Pathsight. One is HP, and the other is Poise. If you consider HP to represent one¡¯s overall physical health, then you may think of Poise as one¡¯s mental fortitude at any given time. Breaking a soul¡¯s Poise, therefore, is tantamount to interrupting their ability to focus on their immediate endeavor.¡± So that¡¯s what happened to Porky! Serac thought rather than spoke, loath to make any noise with a Jailer within earshot. When I hit him with that third bullet, he sort of just stopped and keeled over. ¡°Precisely. Unlike HP, and much slower than Stamina, Poise will ¡®recover¡¯ on its own, if you give a soul enough time to regather their courage. But if you land enough attacks within that lengthy recovery window, you can Poise-break the opponent, thereby bringing any brute¡ªno matter how large or how powerful¡ªto their knees.¡± And that¡¯d be my cue to sneak in a few free hits. Serac nodded silently, then made sure the nearest Jailer¡¯s eyes were turned before she dashed to the next hiding spot further up the stairs. Or it could be a chance to safely close the distance and try a melee attack. ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s not the only benefit. You see, ¡®Poise-break¡¯ isn¡¯t just a state of immobility, but also one of vulnerability. Every hit you deal to a Poise-broken opponent will produce critical damage, multiplying your base Attack Value severalfold.¡± Serac nodded again, thinking back to how PULVERIZER¡¯s [Grind] had atomized Porky¡¯s face (yuck!) and removed a huge chunk of his HP in one fell swoop. ¡°But remember, Wayfarer, that the same rules apply to you. You can just as easily be Poise-broken by the enemy, leaving you vulnerable to a critical attack. What¡¯s more, you would¡¯ve noticed that there¡¯s no ¡®Poise bar¡¯ to speak of, and the only damage numbers that do show up pertain to HP.¡± Yeah, I did notice. Why is that? ¡°Frankly, no one knows. Whether due to an oversight or perhaps a conscious ¡®design choice¡¯, Pathsight refuses to show just how much Poise damage is dealt with each attack. All we know on paper is that you currently have 65 points of maximum Poise. What does that mean in practical terms? How many hits could you withstand before being Poise-broken? I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s something that can only be gleaned from first-hand experience and keen observation. In other words, you¡¯ll have to learn it ¡®the hard way¡¯.¡± Serac found herself liking this new and mellower Trippy more and more. See how nice it is just to have a calm conversation like two sensible adults? In fact, she was enjoying this lesson so much that she couldn¡¯t help but voice her approval, ¡°You know what, Trippy? As weirdly math-heavy as all this Karma and Pathsight stuff is, I can see myself warming to it. I don¡¯t know what it is about it, but it feels like¡­ I¡¯m playing a game¡ªwith its own rules and challenges. I just wanna get out there and see what I can do, you know? See if I¡¯m any good at this stuff.¡± ¡°I can understand it. Wayfaring offers a clear goal to work towards, alongside a feedback system to indicate successes and failures in digestible increments. I¡¯m not surprised that someone like you would be enticed by its appeals.¡± ¡°Someone like me? You mean someone that¡¯s¡ªoh shit!¡± Serac had been too hasty to break her vow of silence. For lumbering up the stairs behind her was the same Jailer she¡¯d snuck past just earlier. It¡¯d evidently run out of inmates to chuck to their deaths, now turning its bloodshot eyes and giant ¡®poker¡¯ of a tethered weapon toward its newest toy. This Jailer dispensed with the formalities of trying to subdue a Penitent by her Circlet. Instead, its very first move was to lunge forward and thrust the rusted (but still plenty pointy) end of its poker into Serac, as if she were a Furnace that needed its coals rearranged. Serac twisted away from the attack by the skin of her teeth, before quickly sliding back down the stairs to create a safe distance. She¡¯d learned a bit about Stamina management from her previous encounters and was now diligently mindful of the green bar that fluctuated at the edges of her consciousness. She knew also that, with her current low HP (just 137/577), there were only so many more hits she could absorb with PULVERIZER. [Catharsis] was also out of the question, lest she push herself into the last slivers of HP and MP long before she could complete her prison break. No, she would have to find a new way to take down this latest Jailer. Oblivious to its opponent¡¯s scheming ways, the Jailer took another lunging step to close the distance and bring Serac back within poker range. This gave the Rakshasa the briefest of windows to fire off one REVOLVER shot ([111!]) before she shifted her focus (and Stamina) onto evading the Jailer¡¯s next attack. She spun, feeling the poker cut dangerously close into the space she¡¯d just vacated, then ran back up the stairs to reset the distance between the two combatants. This latest maneuver ran her Stamina down to its last green segment, but she forced herself to keep calm and wait. The Jailer, with its towering frame, was slow to turn around and retrain its sights on Serac, which gave the agile (and patient) Rakshasa the time to replenish her Stamina. Then this exchange too fell into the same pattern as the previous one. The Jailer took a lumbering step to close the distance. Serac responded with REVOLVER and its modest damage ([111!]). Poke, dodge, run to safety. Rinse and repeat. Serac was starting to see that not every Jailer was¡ªto put it kindly¡ªas proficient with pattern recognition and problem-solving as Porky, her former personal tormentor. This one, even after falling for the same trick twice, persisted with its single-minded approach. And Serac dutifully punished this stubbornness by landing a third REVOLVER shot¡ªthe same number it¡¯d previously taken to bring Porky to his knees.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. With a pitiful groan, the Jailer dropped its weapon by its side and crumpled to the ground. Poise-break. Serac recognized the phenomenon and knew what to call it. All she needed now was to lay into a defenseless opponent and shave off what remained of its HP with some good old-fashioned ¡®critical damage¡¯. But as she raised REVOLVER for a fourth and (hopefully) final shot, she was suddenly struck by the question of choice. Which was strange, considering this should¡¯ve been no choice at all. She didn¡¯t have enough MP to activate [The Grind] like last time. [Catharsis] here would be foolish and frankly overkill. The only thing that made sense was to shoot the Jailer with REVOLVER¡¯s regular ammunition, and keep shooting it until it died. And yet, she couldn¡¯t help but notice that the Jailer had its back turned to the edge of the staircase, beyond which was open air and a sheer drop. She couldn¡¯t help but recall the procession of helpless inmates this brute had shoved down the same stairwell. She couldn¡¯t help, also, to turn an analytical eye to her own available resources, chief among which was ¡®Cartridge¡¯ ([2|24]). She gave each of these thoughts their proper weight¡ªall within the space of a nervous Ksana. And she used the next Ksana to act on their combined conclusion¡ªlong before a simple-minded Jailer could hope to mend its broken Poise. Serac lowered the gun in her right hand. She then dug her heels into the fleshy ground before swinging with her left hand as hard as Rakshasa-ly possible, PULVERIZER-first and into the Jailer¡¯s center of mass. Contact with the Jailer¡¯s bare skin proved to be an affront to the senses, and the foul breath expelled from its chest even more so. But the punch was a clean and weighty one, with enough force behind it to dislodge the Jailer¡¯s massive body and send it hurtling over the ledge. Much to Serac¡¯s surprise, it¡¯d even elicited its own damage number: [178!]. Much smaller than what [The Grind] would¡¯ve produced under the same circumstance, and nowhere near enough to deplete the Jailer¡¯s HP on its own. It was a good thing, then, that Serac hadn¡¯t counted on it. She stopped short of falling over the ledge herself, then listened. It didn¡¯t take long for a meaty splat to announce the exact moment of a Jailer¡¯s demise. This was soon followed by the Karma pop-up of [300 ?], crediting the Wayfarer with her latest successful smiting. And only then did Serac let out a sigh of relief. In all honesty, she had no way to foresee that her gambit would work, and she thanked her lucky stars that her instincts had proven correct. Trippy didn¡¯t have to know that though (albeit he probably did know), and Serac dusted herself off with outward nonchalance as she picked up their conversation where they¡¯d left off. ¡°You were saying? About someone like me being the perfect fit for Wayfaring?¡± ¡°¡­ You¡¯re putting words in my mouth, Wayfarer, but I¡¯ll humor you just this once. I meant to say someone with your ambitions¡ªand evidently the talent to match. That was well-fought, and without me having to intervene once. Sound strategy. Impeccable display of Stamina management. And even a spark of inspired improvisation to finish things off. You used the terrain to your advantage, and managed to conserve some Cartridge because of it. The fact that you¡¯ve pulled this off at only your fourth encounter does bode well for the rest of our journey.¡± At Trippy¡¯s praise¡ªhard-earned and unexpectedly effusive¡ªSerac¡¯s mask of nonchalance melted in an instant. She couldn¡¯t hide a big goofy grin as she said, ¡°Stop it! No, keep going! Tell me more about how awesome I am and how you¡¯re so glad you chose me as your Wayfarer!¡± Joking though she was, she was nevertheless disappointed when the praise didn¡¯t keep flowing. Trippy instead paused for a moment, seeming to choose his next words carefully. ¡°You¡­ do continue to surprise me, Serac Edin. And my latest surprise is at just how Zen you are about your predicament.¡± ¡°Zen?¡± Serac parroted, finally stumped by a word she¡¯d never known, in this life or another. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± This was followed by another pause, long enough to make Serac wonder if her question might¡¯ve stumped Trippy in turn. ¡°¡­ Zen is¡­ not unlike Poise, I suppose. Except it can¡¯t be defined by a number, not even with Pathsight. And it persists, unbroken, through all the ups and downs of a soul¡¯s existence.¡± Trippy stopped again, but Serac kept both her mouth shut and her mind blank. Somehow, she could sense that her six-shooter had more to say. ¡°When I first found you, you¡¯d already suffered through heaven knows how many lifetimes of torture and misery, and yet you still had the heart to joke around with your Jailer. You¡¯ve put up with me and my abrasive ways, lived through the shocks and horrors of what it means to undertake this journey with me, and¡­ you seem to have taken it all in stride. Still upbeat and eager for more. How do you do it, Serac Edin? How are you so resilient when, as far as I can tell, you¡¯ve had no foundation upon which to build that resilience?¡± As pleasantly confusing as she¡¯d found it, Serac was ready and willing to give Trippy¡¯s long-winded question its due consideration. She started to think of a response¡­ then stopped almost immediately. The feeling was familiar. A kind of dissonance that caught against memories of murky origin. She¡¯d felt the same thing not long ago, as she¡¯d pondered the ¡®three¡¯ things that could happen to souls when they died. And here, again, she hastily interrupted her recollections of self¡ªthe source of her dissonance¡ªas she put on a slightly stilted smile for no one¡¯s benefit. ¡°Not sure about you, partner, but I¡¯m not enough of a narcissist to have spent much time psycho-analyzing myself. Besides, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s that deep, anyway. Let¡¯s just call it one of my ¡®talents¡¯ and be done with it, yeah?¡± ¡°¡­ As you wish. Onwards, then, Wayfarer. We still have a ways to climb.¡± And onwards Serac climbed. Sneaking when she could, and fighting when she couldn¡¯t. Along the way, she managed to dispatch two more Jailers and another Frenzied Penitent, bringing her total Liminal Karma to an increasingly juicy-looking [1,660 ?]. Not that she knew what exactly she was meant to do with that number. While progress remained smooth, resource management became something of a worry. Serac managed to avoid taking further damage, but her careful approach had the side effect of drawing out each battle. By the time she made it just past halfway up the Aviary, Cartridge was down to only [6|10], causing her to wonder if she had enough bullets left to gunsling her way out of prison. She was still preoccupied with questions of attrition when she was suddenly distracted by a voice. ¡°Hey.¡± Serac froze in between two steps, knowing full well that the voice didn¡¯t belong to Trippy, nor could it be attributed to the unintelligible wails and barks that still rang throughout the Aviary. ¡°Psst! Yes, sweetcheeks, I¡¯m talking to you.¡± Sweetcheeks? As far as Serac was aware, she had no one in her life who could be allowed to call her ¡®sweetcheeks¡¯. Thus, it was with equal parts alarm, confusion, and indignation that she scanned her vicinity for the source of the voice. Eventually, Serac¡¯s eyes fell upon one of the hanging jail cells that were nearest her. Then she jumped, biting down on a startled yelp at the same time. For staring back at her through a small perforation on the alveolar wall was an eye, one that blinked several times as the voice spoke its next words. ¡°Oh, thank the gods. I was starting to think I¡¯d be stuck in this¡­ fucking bird cage forever. Now, hurry up and get me out! I¡¯ll make it worth your while.¡± 8. Bird Cage 8. Bird Cage ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you, you know,¡± the speaker continued, never breaking ¡®eye contact¡¯. ¡°You seem to know your way around a fight, sweetcheeks, but you also have glaring weaknesses that¡¯ll get you in trouble sooner rather than later. If you have any hope of making it to the surface in one piece, you¡¯re going to need an ally, and lucky for you, I¡¯m¡ªhrrgh!¡± The sac in which the speaker was trapped suddenly swung wildly from side to side. This was accompanied by a wet retching sound that issued from the approximate location of the one eye, which now shut tightly in consternation. Serac turned her gaze upward, partly to avoid getting drawn into secondhand nausea, but mainly to look for the source of the disturbance. Higher up the room, Jailers and Penitents continued to jostle for supremacy, oblivious to the changes to their environment. Yet the winds inside the Aviary had clearly picked up in speed and intensity, as if the prison itself had decided to take matters into its own hands. ¡°Oh my gods,¡± the one-eyed speaker cried out in between throaty spits and ragged breaths (yuck!). Gone instantly was his casual arrogance, leaving only the meek submission that was part and parcel of the Damnatorium experience. ¡°I beg of you, get me out already! I don¡¯t know how much more of this I can take!¡± Serac¡¯s hand moved before her mind did, first reaching tentatively for the swinging alveolar sac before deciding she needed to think twice about how exactly she would go about the task. It wouldn¡¯t do to put herself in danger just to save this¡ª ¡°Surely, you can¡¯t be serious!¡± Trippy interjected then, with his snark back in full force. ¡°Are you just going to stop for every Dick and Jane that come calling? Have you even met this man before today? What possible reason do you have to lend him an ear, let alone a hand?¡± ¡°Funny you should say that,¡± Serac replied with a shrug, ¡°considering I just met you for the first time today. Besides, I¡¯m doing this for my own benefit as much as his. If I have to listen to all this retching any longer, I¡¯m going to throw up on myself and probably you too.¡± ¡°Be that as it may, I should have a say in this! This is meant to be a partnership, and I haven¡¯t agreed to bring in a third party with nothing in the way of a vetting process.¡± ¡°Who said anything about bringing him in? I¡¯m just going to let him out of his cell. That¡¯s it. We can think about the other stuff later.¡± ¡°Who¡­ who are you talking to?¡± Serac ignored the stranger¡¯s wretched moaning and instead focused on the task at hand. She¡¯d already intuited that making direct contact with the jail cell wasn¡¯t a viable option¡ªnot worth the risk. That left, once again, REVOLVER as the only ranged tool at her disposal, but she also wasn¡¯t keen to expend more resources than was reasonable. One bullet. That was all she would allow herself. One bullet to try and rescue this haughty catcaller of a stranger, then she would move on with her life regardless of the outcome. So¡­ I¡¯d better make this one count. As such, she needed something to aim for. Something that could let her reliably disrupt the jail cell¡¯s integrity while leaving the goods inside unharmed. ¡°Can you go any lower?¡± She called out as an idea came to her. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Duck. Or, I dunno, slide lower. Just make yourself smaller, okay? I don¡¯t know your situation inside that thing, but I need a clear line of sight to aim at your, uh, peephole.¡± ¡°My peep¡ª? What are you insinuating? And what do you intend to do exactly?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? I¡¯m going to make the hole bigger.¡± The stranger swung in silence for a while, with his one eye blinking rather nervously through his peephole. Then, as Serac watched, the eyeball slid down to reveal a patch of clammy skin, then some mucus-slick hair, and finally the hollow darkness inside an alveolar sac. This too was accompanied by more retching, no doubt as the stranger became intimately acquainted with a reservoir of his own upchuck. ¡°Perfect,¡± Serac murmured weakly, even as she fought down a throaty heave of her own. She readied REVOLVER at the same time. A wildly swinging sac. A tiny target. And a bout of intense nausea to boot. This was to be by far the most difficult shot of her brief gunslinging career, but Serac felt oddly composed as she committed to it.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. She was once again visited by a sense of dissonance, one that quickly settled into confidence as her soul somehow found a reference point to draw from. She¡¯d done this before. If not the exact same scenario (which, let¡¯s be real, was highly doubtful), then at least something a lot like it¡­ Aim, lock, fire. Whether by instinct or experience or perhaps both, Serac chose the moment where the alveolar sac swung toward her in a straight line, making the tiny perforation upon its wall just a little bigger for her to aim for. The bullet connected, not straight through the peephole, but rather grazing its edge, just as the gunslinger had intended. [144!] By now, Serac had developed several of her own theories about how Wayfaring and Pathsight worked in conjunction. As such, she wasn¡¯t all that surprised to see a damage number attributed to this inanimate object. Moreover, she was pleased to see that her one shot had produced its intended effect: that of slightly widening the peephole and, more importantly, softening up the surrounding tissue. ¡°You¡¯re on your own now, Mr Eyeball!¡± she called out merrily, even as she reloaded REVOLVER to bring her Cartridge total to [6|9]. ¡°See if you can¡¯t claw out of that thing on your own. And if you don¡¯t even have the strength to do that, then I frankly can¡¯t see how you were ever going to be a worthy ¡®ally¡¯.¡± More retching and heaving. Followed by a finger that poked itself out of the ruined peephole and began to dig its way around the edges. Seeing this did catch Serac by surprise. For the finger didn¡¯t look exactly how she¡¯d imagined it. She¡¯d met other Rakshasas that had more of a copper complexion compared to her own cinnabar, but this one¡­ appeared a little sallower than what she was comfortable with. The finger also lacked the onyx-black claws that, along with horns, were among the very few things a Rakshasa could claim as their pride and joy. The sight of the somewhat ¡®deformed¡¯ finger immediately made her think of the Frenzied Penitents. Even those poor souls with their lurching gait and hollowed-out eyes had at least looked quite a bit healthier than Mr Finger here. But Serac liked to think of herself as an it¡¯s-what¡¯s-inside-that-counts kind of girl, and she decided to reserve judgment until the stranger revealed himself in full. And reveal himself he did. Step by arduous step. First, the lone finger pulled apart enough of the wall for a whole hand to squeeze its way into the open. Then that hand heaved and ho¡¯d until it was joined by its counterpart, upon which two sallow-looking (and very much clawless) hands ripped through the sac lengthwise. This coincided with a gust of wind that pushed the whole chain of cells closer to the staircase. Mr Hands didn¡¯t miss his chance, choosing this moment to leap out of his cell and onto solid ground¡­ ¡­ Upon which he immediately doubled over to cough, spit, and dry-heave some more. Serac watched it all happen, and her eyes widened in earnest amazement as she was forced to readjust in real time her perception of who¡ªor what¡ªthis stranger was. Eyeball to Finger to Hands to Body. The figure, even in his folded state, was clearly taller than any Rakshasa Serac had known. His Penitent¡¯s rags were in far worse shape than his rescuer¡¯s, torn and eroded in parts that revealed a surprisingly muscular frame underneath. If it weren¡¯t for his miserable disposition, sickly complexion, and yes, complete lack of claws or horns, Serac might¡¯ve even concluded that Mr Muscles was the healthiest inmate she¡¯d ever met. ¡°Gods,¡± the man¡¯s muffled voice broke through in between his dry heaves, though he still kept his head buried between his arms. ¡°I knew I could count on you! Thank you, sweetcheeks. Truly, I mean it.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Serac murmured uncertainly, her bewilderment temporarily overriding her disdain for the stranger¡¯s casual misogyny. ¡°Say, are you okay, mister? Like, what happened to your¡ª?¡± ¡°Oh, for heaven¡¯s sake! I should¡¯ve known!¡± ¡°What?¡± Serac, having forgotten all about Trippy, was startled into voicing her honest reaction. ¡°What should you have known?¡± ¡°That does it. I¡¯m now thoroughly and adamantly against bringing this soul along as our ally. You can¡¯t trust him, Serac Edin! Climbing Mount Meru is ultimately a zero-sum game, and we mustn¡¯t share our pursuit of it with a competitor¡ªwith your own kind.¡± ¡°My own kind? But¡­ that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m trying to figure out right now! What even is this guy?¡± ¡°Seriously, I¡¯m going to ask you again. Who do you keep talking to?¡± With that (admittedly quite reasonable) question, the newly freed stranger raised his head. The full view of his face only confirmed what Serac had already suspected: that the man was decidedly not Rakshasa. Albeit¡­ his alien features somehow managed to feel familiar, in that ¡®dissonant¡¯ way Serac was starting to grow accustomed to. A haggard angular face that now framed a pair of inquisitive eyeballs. Mucus-slick and charcoal-black hair that grew not only on his head but also all the way around his square jaw and prominent chin¡ªa beard! That certainly was a rare sight inside a prison full of smooth-faced Rakshasas and their Hellspawn Jailers. And yet, even more striking¡ªand more alarming¡ªthan the stranger¡¯s face was the text that now sprang up all around it. A message from Pathsight, dutifully filling in the blanks in a novice Wayfarer¡¯s knowledge with proprietary data. [Designation: ZACARIAS BORGES-JUVENTUS] [Wayfarer Race: MANUSYA] [Karmic Level: 16] [Liminal Karma (Deficit): -15,950 ?] [ERUDITE Instrument: VISAGE] 9. The Outrealmer 9. The Outrealmer ¡°Something the matter, sweetcheeks?¡± The man¡¯s disheveled face brightened slightly into a faint smile. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡± ¡°First of all, stop calling me ¡®sweetcheeks¡¯ if you know what¡¯s good for you,¡± Serac fired back, her disdain momentarily overriding her slack-jawed bewilderment, ¡°and second, what¡¯s a Manusya like you doing all the way down in the lowest pits of Naraka?¡± ¡°Ooh, a little feisty, aren¡¯t you? I can work with that.¡± The man finally dragged himself to his feet, flashing his rescuer what he no doubt intended as a winning smile. With his soggy hair and puke-covered attire, however, the only effect it had on said rescuer was to tempt her with the thought of socking him in the jaw. To his credit, he looked like he could take it, now towering over Serac at his full height. ¡°How about you answer my question before I lose my patience?¡± The Rakshasa snapped with obvious displeasure. ¡°I¡¯m already starting to regret not listening to¡ªer, not leaving you inside that sac for the rest of eternity.¡± ¡°But you haven¡¯t answered my question yet,¡± The Manusya retorted with casual ease. ¡°About?¡± ¡°About this invisible friend of yours.¡± The man¡¯s smile widened a touch. ¡°Care to introduce me?¡± Serac frowned, momentarily lost for words. It¡¯d been an age since she¡¯d spoken to any physical entity not named Porky, and she evidently needed to work off some rust. Besides which, just what was she supposed to say? That her invisible friend was actually the six-shooter in her hand? If only Trippy had briefed her on this very¡ª ¡°Careful, Serac Edin.¡± That was when Trippy himself offered his timely opinion. ¡°There¡¯s no use hiding from another Wayfarer the fact you¡¯re paired to a Deific Instrument, but that doesn¡¯t mean you should go around advertising our¡­ particular arrangement.¡± ¡°I was just¡ª¡± Oops. I was just thinking the same thing. ¡°Then you¡¯re not entirely hopeless. All the more reason for you to heed me well. The simplest and most prudent thing here would be to ignore this man and go on our way.¡± And if Serac had kept to being as much of a pragmatist as she fancied herself to be, she would¡¯ve followed Trippy¡¯s advice, no question asked. But unbeknownst even to her, she was no longer the same Serac Edin that had once cowered under her Jailer¡¯s blank stares and phlegmy grunts. As it turned out, her pragmatism had been but a defense mechanism of sorts. Freed from her jail cell and buoyed by new and yet untapped power, Serac slowly but surely allowed more of her truer nature to come to the fore. The true Serac was above all else a curious soul, perhaps even at the cost of self-preservation. And what could¡¯ve tickled her curiosity more than to have met an outrealmer this far down in the depths of hell¡ªand not just any outrealmer but a fellow Wayfarer to boot? So, she heard Trippy¡¯s advice, agreed with the wisdom of it, then decided to go her own way. ¡°I was just talking to myself,¡± she said, finishing her sentence rather differently to how she¡¯d started it. ¡°It¡¯s just something I do and nothing for you to worry about. Now your turn. Who are you and how did you end up here? I can already tell you haven¡¯t been here as long as the other inmates.¡± ¡°Feisty and observant,¡± the man said with a wink, then his smile faltered as he struggled to unstick his gunky eyelids. ¡°Well, seeing as how we¡¯ve both got Pathsight, there¡¯s no use beating around the bush, is there? You saw my Karma Deficit and could probably put two and two together.¡± -15,950 ? in Karma deficit. Given the rookie numbers Serac had been working with so far, it was hard to fathom how one might go about canceling a debt of that amount¡ªlet alone incur it in the first place. ¡°Zacarias Borges-Juventus at your service,¡± the man continued, looking far too pleased for someone in such dire Karmic straits, ¡°and yes, I started my Wayfaring ways somewhere far, far away from here¡ªand well ahead of you, I might add. But I might¡¯ve been just a teensy bit too self-indulgent with my vices, which¡­ well, one thing led to another, and now I¡¯m here. What can I say? I like my women like I like my wine: full-bodied and constantly flowing!¡± Serac nearly threw up in her mouth, and this time, it had nothing to do with the smell of dried vomit emanating from one Zacarias Borges-Juventus. Somewhere inside her head, Trippy let out an audible groan. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re telling me you drank and whored your way from Manesfera all the way down to Naraka? All the way into negative Karma in the ten-thousands?¡± I didn¡¯t even know you could get negative Karma, but I guess it makes sense. ¡°How much¡­ how many¡­ you know what, I don¡¯t want to know.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡± Zacarias Borges-Juventus said with all the air of someone making small talk about their occupation. Then he eyed his Rakshasa rescuer up and down with a knowing look. ¡°You know, if you¡¯re not too busy right now, I could show you exactly how I managed to¡ª¡± Serac didn¡¯t so much as hesitate as she raised REVOLVER and pointed its barrel at Zacarias¡¯s hornless head. The Manusya continued to smile irreverently, but he at least had the grace to raise both of his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Fine,¡± he said breezily, ¡°I believe you. You don¡¯t want to know, at least not as much as you originally claimed to, anyway.¡± Serac was careful to keep her expression neutral as she slowly lowered her gun, but she couldn¡¯t help but feel that her fellow Wayfarer had gotten one over her somehow. ¡°He¡¯s not telling the whole truth.¡± About the wine or the women? ¡°Both.¡± Serac had figured as much, even without Trippy¡¯s prompting. But she also knew she¡¯d lost her window for a fuller interrogation. I asked him not to pry about my monologues. And now he¡¯s shut down inquiries about the reasons for his ¡®Karma Deficit¡¯. I guess we¡¯re sort of even. Respecting each other¡¯s privacy is just¡­ common courtesy, isn¡¯t it? Even among Wayfarers? Trippy didn¡¯t say anything. Which told her that he at least somewhat agreed with her. Besides, when it came to ¡®not telling the whole truth¡¯, Trippy of all souls would just be the pot calling the kettle black. ¡°Fine,¡± Serac echoed Zacarias the self-proclaimed alcoholic womanizer. ¡°Then how about we get down to business? You said you could help me make it to the surface, but what good are you to me all puke-covered and empty-handed? In fact¡±¡ªshe eyed the Manusya up and down with a quizzical look¡ª¡°where is your, um, ¡®Erudite¡¯ Instrument? VISAGE, was it? Don¡¯t you carry it with you?¡± ¡°That¡¯s just the thing, sweet¡ªahem, Horn-girl. That¡¯s the whole reason I¡¯m here, specifically. In this literal hellhole of a prison. You see, some jackass nicked VISAGE from me when I was just minding my business up on the surface. I ended up having to chase him all the way down here, and before I could get to the bastard, I got mobbed and thrown into that bird cage over there. And that¡¯s how you found me, Horn-girl, my knight in not-so-shining armor.¡± Serac frowned as she wrestled with multiple reactions at once, chief among which was concern about her new moniker of ¡®Horn-girl¡¯, which¡­ she wasn¡¯t entirely sure was a significant enough improvement over ¡®sweetcheeks¡¯. But as always, at least one question felt more pertinent than all the others. ¡°Let me guess. Now that I¡¯ve sprung you out of your bird cage, you also want me to go and fetch your Instrument?¡± At this, Zacarias made a face like he was genuinely offended. ¡°What do you take me for? I¡¯m perfectly capable of finishing my own fetch quests, thanks very much. No, no, I just wanted to return the favor, you see. I¡¯ll keep you company for the rest of your climb out of here, help fight off more meanies that¡¯ll try to stop you. But¡­ you know, if we maybe happen across the jackass that stole my VISAGE, I wouldn¡¯t say no to a second round of quid pro quo.¡± Zacarias smiled and winked again. By now, he¡¯d regained enough autonomy over his eyelids to have performed a proper wink, but the effect was no less grating on the intended target. Fighting down another urge to sock the outrealmer in the jaw, Serac nevertheless spoke through gritted teeth. ¡°What makes you think I need your help? You still haven¡¯t told me just how you plan on contributing without a weapon. And just who is this jackass you keep¡ª¡± Bang! The familiar report of a Jailer¡¯s six-shooter. At nearly the same instant, the ground at Serac¡¯s feet erupted with smoke and shredded bits of flesh, forcing her to jump out of harm¡¯s way. She spun toward the interruption, simultaneously readying REVOLVER with a practiced movement. But then she froze when she saw just what she was up against. Two Jailers bounded down the stairs and toward the pair of Wayfarers, one of them tethered to a six-shooter and the other to a poker. Melee plus ranged wombo-combo. And even before she could respond, Serac sensed that she was doomed. You seem to know your way around a fight, sweetcheeks, but you also have glaring weaknesses that¡¯ll get you in trouble sooner rather than later. Well, ¡®trouble¡¯ had come sooner than she might¡¯ve hoped, announcing itself in simple yet spectacular fashion. Two burly opponents coming for her at the same time, each fearsome enough on their own but together downright unplayable. Welp, there¡¯s nothing for it. Serac quelled her initial panic, determined to go down swinging. She trained REVOLVER on her gunslinging counterpart, acting mostly on instinct and partially on a dormant memory that told her: focus down the ranged threat first. Aim, lock, fire. She managed to get her first shot off before the Jailer could ready his second. [111!]. It was a clean hit, the perfect start to a fight. But Serac processed this bit of success with a sinking feeling, knowing¡ªor rather, seeing out of the corner of her eye¡ªwhat was about to come. The rusted yet plenty pointy end of a poker. Rushing toward her exposed right side at speed. It was too late. She couldn¡¯t move fast enough to block the attack with PULVERIZER, and even if she could, it was only a matter of time before this ¡®fight¡¯ devolved into a one-sided¡ª Ping! Serac froze again, this time in utter astonishment. She herself remained unharmed as the second Jailer¡¯s poker bounced away from her, parried as it¡¯d been by the bare feet of the man standing next to her. The outrealmer, for his part, had one leg raised in an impressively straight split, stretching his Penitent¡¯s rags for all they were worth. Then he flashed Serac a smile that was perhaps half as winning as he¡¯d intended it to be, before he turned his attention back onto the Jailers, lowering himself into an apparent stance as he did. And now, Serac couldn¡¯t help but see her Manusya companion¡ªthis puke-covered empty-handed self-proclaimed alcoholic womanizer¡ªin a new light. For that was also when Pathsight¡¯s description of him updated itself with an additional line: [Designation: ZACARIAS BORGES-JUVENTUS] [Erudite Instrument: VISAGE] [Auxiliary: THE NINEFOLD DAO] 10. Vetting Process 10. Vetting Process [Designation: THE NINEFOLD DAO] [Instrument Class: AUXILIARY] [Anchored Realm: MANESFERA (+3)] [Item Description: Not so much an ¡®item¡¯ as a ¡®way of life¡¯, the Ninefold Dao is built around the central tenet that the human body can mold itself into nine distinct weapons. Originally the brainchild of Venen Maracas-Diablos, a founding father of the Aracnido Sect, it has since been passed down through generations of the Sect¡¯s most promising disciples. All nine ¡®weapons¡¯¡ªor Daos, as the Aracnidos call them¡ªare feared throughout Manesfera for their lethal brutality, none more so than the fabled ¡®Ninth¡¯: a technique so devastating in effect yet so perilous to acquire that only a handful of disciples throughout history can claim to have mastered all nine Daos. Don¡¯t you just wish you could meet and pick the brains of one of these true masters? What singular talents they must embody! What nobility of spirit and strength of character!] *** Zacarias Borges-Juventus, alleged by Pathsight to be a master of the so-called NINEFOLD DAO, somehow managed to wink at Serac without looking in her direction. ¡°I know I¡¯m so fucking hot right now, baby, but I really think you should focus on your own fight!¡± Loath as she was to heed anything this man had to say, Serac nevertheless allowed her survival instincts to take the wheel, turning her attention onto the gunslinging Jailer just in time to see it fire in her direction. This she did manage to block with PULVERIZER, eating [30!] damage but also giving herself the chance to fire back. [111!]. She immediately shifted her focus to her Stamina bar, realized she still had a strip of it left, then made the snap-second decision to fire again in quick succession. [111!]. Combined with the shot with which she¡¯d opened the encounter, this was now the third bullet she¡¯d deposited into the same target, which meant¡­ Yes! The Jailer fell to its knees, Poise-broken. This window allowed Serac to refill her Stamina while still having enough time to move in for a melee combo of her own. The first jab with PULVERIZER, even when boosted by a critical multiplier, only managed to deal [178!] in damage, leaving a good chunk of HP still to erase. Serac ignored her rising anxiety and persisted with her combo, intent on conserving Cartridge wherever she could. The second move in the combo was a left-to-right hook that hit for [187!]. Still not enough. A thin morsel of the Jailer¡¯s HP still remained, and Serac willed herself to finish off her three-hit melee combo with a weighty uppercut. Except she couldn¡¯t! For the earlier gap-closer together with the first two punches had already used up her Stamina. And as she waited with rising panic for her green bar to fill back up, the now Poise-recovered Jailer stirred, rearing itself to its full height and balling up a massive fist to bring down on the Rakshasa¡¯s head. Welp, I guess that¡¯s that. This was Serac¡¯s first time seeing a Jailer try a punch of its own, and as such, she didn¡¯t know for sure how hard it could hit. But she had to assume, even at a conservative estimate, that it¡¯d be more than enough to hammer down to nothing what little remained of her own HP¡­ ¡­ And that was when her vision filled, not with the pale blob that was the Jailer¡¯s fist, but with the muscular and puke-covered frame of one Zacarias Borges-Juventus. The Manusya Wayfarer, taller than most Rakshasas but still only half the size of a Hellspawn Jailer, nonetheless barged into the latter¡¯s side, shoulder-first, thereby knocking the Jailer off its feet and sending it tumbling onto the staircase a second time. [Auxiliary Technique: THE FIFTH DAO¡ªPAULDRON] The NINEFOLD master wasn¡¯t done there. He gave the Jailer no chance to recover (and Serac no chance to react) as he smoothly transitioned from a shoulder tackle into a downward fist aimed straight into the Hellspawn¡¯s bloated tummy. [Auxiliary Technique: THE THIRD DAO¡ªCESTUS] The punch elicited a dull and rather sickening thwack. For one brief moment, Zacarias¡¯s sallow musculature merged with the Jailer¡¯s pale flabbiness to produce a picture of ill health that, at least in Serac¡¯s eyes, was truly fit for hell. The moment was thankfully brief, however, as the flabby portion of that abomination soon crumbled to Souldust. And even as the erstwhile Jailer dissolved into the Interstitium, and even as the man that dealt the smiting blow hopped to his feet with a lithe motion and dusted himself off, Serac Edin was left gaping and speechless.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. She couldn¡¯t make up her mind what amazed her more. Was it Zacarias¡¯s (admittedly) competent flair¡­ or was it the fact the whole thing felt so nostalgic¡ªas though a part of her soul could recall fighting alongside a cocky bastard just like him? But then her perception of the world shifted again, this time with another Pathsighted notification. And it was this latest bit of news¡ªand the accompanying flash of annoyance¡ªthat dragged Serac out of her hazy non-recollections and back down to hell. ¡°Hang on¡­¡± She spoke out loud, forgetting to put on her filter. ¡°Only [120 ?]? That¡¯s not right! Shouldn¡¯t killing a Jailer give me [300 ?]?¡± Now it was Zacarias¡¯s turn to side-eye her quizzically, as if she¡¯d grown an extra set of horns. Sensing right away that she¡¯d bumbled into another Wayfaring faux pas, Serac tried to hide her embarrassment as she switched to her ¡®inside voice¡¯. Oi, Trippy. This discounted Karma haul¡­ I¡¯m guessing it has something to do with this Manusya asshole poking his head in? ¡°Precisely. In the event that two or more Wayfarers make contributions to the same instance of smiting, the resultant Karma is divided between them at a set ratio, with the Wayfarer that dealt the smiting blow receiving the larger share.¡± What? But¡­ that¡¯s not fair, is it? You saw what happened; I took off nearly all of that Jailer¡¯s HP, and all this asshole did was come in and finish off the last bit! ¡°I don¡¯t disagree with you, Serac Edin. This is a classic case of what we in the business call a smite steal. But¡­ it is what it is. Ever since the Devas implemented Pathsight and adopted a hands-off approach to Karma monitoring, it¡¯s become all but impossible for these edge cases to be adjudicated with any degree of nuance or subtlety. You¡¯ll have to learn to live with it, or perhaps better yet, steal back a smiting or two whenever you get the chance.¡± That¡­ asshole! Serac thought fervently, cursing her own lack of variety in insults. Wait. Hang on. Trippy? Why do you make it sound like this ¡®smite steal¡¯ thing is about to become an ongoing issue? ¡°¡­ It¡¯s rather obvious, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re going to accept this Manusya¡¯s offer of support. At least until you both make it out of the Damnatorium, and perhaps for longer if need be. The two of you shall be Wayfaring companions.¡± Wait! Hang on! What happened? You¡¯re the one that was so against this idea just a minute ago! What, did Mr NINEFOLD¡¯s fancy hiyah moves win you over? ¡°As a matter of fact, they did. If you recall what I actually said, it was that I refuse to bring on a third party without a proper vetting process. Well, I¡¯ve seen enough. Consider me made painfully aware of your need for a second, more experienced Wayfarer to ¡®take the heat¡¯ on occasion. And consider this Zacarias Borges-Juventus and his close combat capabilities vetted to my satisfaction.¡± But¡­ but¡­! Try as she might, the best and only argument Serac could come up with was, he¡¯s such an asshole, though! ¡°Um, Horn-girl? I¡¯m not interrupting anything, am I?¡± Serac snapped out of her and Trippy¡¯s private conference at once. She then met Zacarias with as hostile a glare as she could muster. The look on the man¡¯s face¡ªa faint smile, obviously insincere and far too sly for her liking¡ªonly served to aggravate her annoyance. ¡°What?¡± she muttered. ¡°No, it¡¯s just that¡­ you¡¯ve gone awfully quiet,¡± Zacarias replied evenly, widening his smile as though he¡¯d said something funny. ¡°That last scuffle hasn¡¯t scared you off the trail, has it? You¡¯re still alright to keep going?¡± ¡°Of course I¡¯m fine! What¡¯s it to you?¡± ¡°What¡¯s it to me? Well, my offer still stands, you know. I¡¯d love for us to share the road for a while, and if we were to do that, it¡¯s only natural for me to be concerned about the welfare of my traveling companion. So¡­ have you given it any more thought? About letting me tag along?¡± The slyness of his smile persisted throughout his speech, much to Serac¡¯s consternation. She especially didn¡¯t like the way he placed that emphasis on ¡®you¡¯¡ªas if there might be more than one way to interpret that word¡­ ¡°Don¡¯t be rash, Wayfarer. I know this Manusya rubs you the wrong way, and believe me, I myself am no admirer of his personality. But there¡¯s no denying his fighting prowess and how useful it could be for us¡ªat least at this stage of our journey.¡± ¡°Fine!¡± Serac snapped out loud, answering two souls at once. ¡°You¡¯ll help me get out of this damn prison, and I¡¯ll help get your VISAGE back or whatever. But that¡¯s it! That¡¯s about as far as I could stand being chummy with the likes of you!¡± Zacarias¡¯s eyes flashed with mischief as though he might put up another snide argument. But then he appeared to think better of it, settling instead for a wink and a nod. ¡°Works for me, Horn-girl. Good to make your acquaintance, and may our Paths never lead us astray for long.¡± ¡°And one more thing!¡± Serac continued at a high decibel, riding the momentum of her anger long after it¡¯d already dissipated. ¡°Stop calling me ¡®Horn-girl¡¯ if you know what¡¯s good for you. I have a name, as I¡¯m sure you saw. Maybe try using it.¡± The Manusya let out a chuckle, good-naturedly enough. ¡°Fine, Serac, I will. Speaking of¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve heard you call me by my name.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because your name sucks!¡± Serac blurted, then had the grace to immediately feel bad. She went on in a softer tone, ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t actually mean that. But ¡®Zacarias¡¯ is two too many syllables for a proper nickname between, er, traveling companions.¡± ¡°If you say so, Horn¡ªSerac. Were you going to come up with something else?¡± ¡°I already did. Zacko! That¡¯s what I¡¯m calling you from now on. You¡¯re going to respond to it, and I frankly don¡¯t care if you like it or not.¡± 11. Vision and Follow-through 11. Vision and Follow-through The closer Serac got to the top of the Aviary, the more hectic her adventure became, with an ever-increasing density of meanies barring her way. As such, she couldn¡¯t help but foster a grudging appreciation for Zacko¡¯s company, almost enough to forgive him his grating personality. Almost. For her appreciation was counterbalanced by a persistent undercurrent of Karma envy, a state of mind she didn¡¯t know existed until just minutes ago. It was shameful. It was exactly what Trippy had warned her about. But it was also undeniable, and the feeling of petty inferiority and ineffable FOMO only grew and grew as her Cartridge dwindled¡ªfight by fight and bullet by bullet¡ªall the way down to the dreaded [0|0]. She was then forced to take a backseat in every encounter, concentrating simply on staying alive while Zacko had all the fun and took a lion¡¯s share of the dropped Karma. Occasionally, Zacko would even slow down in the middle of an action and wink in Serac¡¯s direction, as if to say, have at it; get your piece of the pie. The first time this happened, she declined the opportunity, her pride refusing to let her stoop to the lows of Karma-leeching (another concept she¡¯d only just become cognizant of!). Which then prompted Trippy to chastise her in short order: ¡°And you call yourself a ¡®pragmatist¡¯? It¡¯s free Karma! Get it while the getting¡¯s good!¡± And so, for the last several fights atop the Aviary, Serac swallowed her pride and allowed herself to be hard-carried to victory, all while getting in PULVERIZER punches where she could. Her contributions were dismal, at least mathematically speaking, but Pathsight didn¡¯t seem to care. The Karma flowed in at a set ratio that felt far more generous than she deserved ([120 ?] from Jailers and [32 ?] from Frenzied Penitents), and she ended up leeching much more than what was needed to balance the books on Zacko¡¯s earlier smite steal. What was more, guilt and self-reproach weren¡¯t the only strange emotions she wrestled with. For she heard again those echoes of nostalgia from a previous life. The echoes were never louder than when she holstered REVOLVER and went full melee, fighting back to back with a Manusya master of the NINEFOLD DAO. All things considered, it came as a massive relief when she finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel: an aperture at the Aviary¡¯s apex that connected to a circular, cartilaginous footpath. So much so that she left the final Jailer all to Zacko and bounded on by herself, intent on making that final push toward prison break. And so much so that she barely noticed when the footpath forked in two directions: one that leveled off onto a lumpy cavern of sorts and a narrower tube that continued to lead up. It was the latter she dove into without hesitation, acting on the pure and irrepressible desire to breathe outside air. Indeed, so singularly focused was Serac on climbing that she failed to realize that the air grew staler and staler as the space around her became tighter and tighter. Eventually, the footpath could scarcely be called one, as it shrank into narrow grooves between walls of swollen gelatinous tissue. Still, the Rakshasa climbed, now having to wade through the bulging walls as if she were swimming in jello. ¡°Wayfarer? Something tells me you¡¯ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. Might I suggest you double back and see if you can¡¯t reunite with your Manusya friend?¡± ¡°He¡¯s not my friend!¡± Serac protested, her voice muffled by the walls that wrapped all around her. ¡°And how do we know this isn¡¯t the right way? Maybe this is the mouth of the Damnatorium trying to spit us out!¡± ¡°Mouth? Somehow, I doubt it. The tortuous course. The spongy consistency. The numerous and continuous grooves upon the walls¡­ as if they¡¯re meant to exponentiate the surface area of this particular structure. No, this is much more reminiscent of a¡ª¡± ¡°Oop!¡± The breath caught in Serac¡¯s chest as she suddenly lost her footing. Before she knew it, she was lifted off her feet and conveyed through the gelatinous corridor in a stop-start manner, as though an invisible hand was repeatedly picking her up from one place and dropping her off in another. The peculiar (and involuntary) mode of transportation was also accompanied by flashes of mental images. She sensed right away that these were distinct still from Pathsight¡¯s metaphysical overlay. Rather, the images¡ªor at least her perception of them¡ªwere real and of the material world, sent directly into her visual cortex by signals that fired from the synapses all around her. Cortex? Synapse? Where did she even learn these words? Wherever and however Serac had gained the ability to understand what was happening to her, one thing was clear: she¡¯d been wrong, and Trippy was right. This structure wasn¡¯t the Damnatorium¡¯s mouth. No, it was its brain.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. And true to its anatomical analogue, the Damnatorium¡¯s brain offered a uniquely eclectic brand of torture. In fact, when Serac first began to experience it, it didn¡¯t feel like torture at all. If anything¡­ ¡­ If anything, it was the best damn time of her life. As Serac was carried deeper into the brain, its structure ¡®appeared¡¯ to fall away. Gone were the tortuous course, the spongy consistency, and the numerous grooves upon its walls. Gone too was the entire Damnatorium, leaving its erstwhile inmate in a seemingly endless space of pure nothingness. Indeed, even Serac herself had been stripped down to her bare essentials. Gone were REVOLVER and PULVERIZER. Gone were her ragged prison clothes and their stains of battle-muck. Best of all, gone was her Penitent¡¯s Circlet! She¡¯d never felt lighter nor freer than she did in this Ksana, trapped as she was inside an illusory space. And if the illusion had stopped there, with her bare and pure self floating aimlessly in endless space, she would¡¯ve gladly stayed. Would¡¯ve traded the toils of her afterlife for a Kalpa of burdenless nothingness. Only, it got even better! Soon the space filled with sights and sounds at once startlingly novel and profoundly familiar. A lush mountain teeming with all manner of fruits and wildlife. Cloudless skies that stretched as far and wide as the eye could see. Home. Before she knew it, Serac¡¯s physical eyes filled with tears¡ªreal and burning. Home. There, amidst a lush mountain, her family roamed and frolicked. A thousand strong of the fiercest, loyalest, and noblest souls she¡¯d ever known. Together, they were unstoppable, indomitable, and invincible. With the power to topple any mountain in the universe at her behest. Yes, any mountain¡­ ¡­ Even Mount Meru itself. The breath went out of Serac¡¯s chest, consumed by the sheer force of her memories. Memories of freedom, of power, of rebellion. And if she were to reach out now¡ªreach her bare and pure hand toward the lushness of her and her family¡¯s mountain¡ªshe could grasp those memories and never let go. She was sure of it. She was this close to becoming her freest and truest self. If she just held out a hand and¡ª ¡°Snap out of it!¡± The mountain fell away, along with the cloudless skies that stretched all around. The endless space returned to its physical form: that of the Damnatorium¡¯s brain matter and its numerous gyri that served as a pathless corridor to trap a too-hasty fugitive. The fugitive in question still held out a hopeful hand in vain¡­ and had found something at the end of it. A masculine hand of sallow copper complexion now held Serac in its unyielding grip. Mr Hand¡¯s voice too, muffled as it was, carried across the gelatinous walls that closed in from all sides. ¡°Swim, Serac! I¡¯m not strong enough to pull you out all by myself. You need to do some of the heavy lifting!¡± Serac obeyed, slowly and groggily at first, then with rising urgency as the daze from her illusions fully dissipated. She kicked with tired legs and paddled with an arm weighed down by craggy rocks. The rocks proved useful in this case, abrading the walls and tearing a new path amidst their confines. With a final heave from Zacko, Serac found herself back on the narrow footpath that had led her into the trap. She fell face-first onto the floor and stayed there, allowing herself a short spell to catch her breath and reckon with the humiliating turn of events. ¡°I told you not to go further.¡± ¡°Oh, shut¡ª¡± Shut it! Not like you had any idea what was coming. ¡°No, I can admit to that. And once again, I¡¯m in awe of the intricate craftsmanship that went into constructing this prison. It¡¯s artful is what it is. Whoever was the original architect of the Damnatorium clearly had a bold vision and the means to follow through in spectacular fashion.¡± Well, I¡¯m glad someone¡¯s enjoying it, Serac grumbled in her inside voice as she gingerly pushed her physical self to her feet. Fully alert now, she turned a somewhat grumpy scowl onto Zacko, who¡­ didn¡¯t look half as smug as she would¡¯ve expected him to. The Manusya had just rescued Serac from her own run-in with a torture device, which meant that, as far as favors went, the two of them were now even. For a quid that had just pro¡¯d his quo, however, Zacko wore a rather subdued and grim expression, a far cry from his usual flippant self. ¡°I take it you know exactly what that thing was,¡± Serac ventured, sensing that her Manusya companion might be in an uncharacteristically candid mood. ¡°I do,¡± Zacko answered candidly, though he didn¡¯t elaborate on how. Instead, he raised a tentative eyebrow at Serac and asked in an unusually quiet voice, ¡°What did you see in there?¡± The Rakshasa was momentarily taken aback by the question, though on reflection, she might¡¯ve expected it. She then considered for a brief moment before somewhat checking her own candor. ¡°Something that reminded me of home.¡± Zacko nodded, his expression changing very little. He then went on to explain, ¡°Of all the gory and heinous ways the Damnatorium tortures its inmates, this one might be its¡­ most sadistic. It immerses you in an illusion of the object of your greatest desire. And every time you try to grasp that object, it shifts away¡­ staying within sight but forever out of reach. They call this one¡ªrather poetically, if you ask me¡ªthe Hanging Fruit.¡± Hearing this, Serac¡¯s honest first reaction was: that¡¯s not so bad, is it? Sure beats boiling in the Furnace or being crushed by the Pulverizer. But then the more she thought about it¡ªand the more she tried and failed to recall her freest and truest self¡ªthe less she wanted ever to return to that world of beautiful illusions. Serac shuddered involuntarily. Zacko, who¡¯d been watching her intently throughout the exchange, nodded again. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re quick on the uptake,¡± he said with uncharacteristic candor, ¡°and for this last portion of our prison break, I suggest you stick close to me and save yourself from more nasty surprises.¡± 12. Meditation 12. Meditation The other side of the fork¡ªthe road more traveled¡ªled into a wider passageway segmented by rings of cartilage (¡°The windpipe. There¡¯s our answer of where all the air was coming from¡±, according to Trippy). This windpipe then ballooned into an antechamber of sorts, the far end of which was gated by a roughly Rakshasa-sized flap (¡°The epiglottis¡­ designed to keep things out. Interesting. There must be a separate passage where the inmates are brought in.¡±). Trippy¡¯s anatomy lesson notwithstanding, Serac¡¯s attention was immediately drawn to an object that occupied the center of the antechamber. A lotus flower, just as giant and pure-white as the one she¡¯d left behind in the Pulverizer room. This was another Waystation, but she clearly had nothing to do with its genesis, which meant¡ª ¡°It¡¯s mine,¡± Zacko said with obvious relief as he sat down next to the lotus, ¡°but feel free to use it. You certainly look like you need it.¡± I do? Serac watched with mild bemusement as the Manusya crossed his legs, rested both hands¡ªpalms up¡ªon his knees, then closed his eyes. Just like that, the man looked the perfect picture of calm and concentration, so much so that one had to wonder if he might be serious people after all. Serac, unfamiliar with the apparent ritual, turned to her sentient six-shooter for an explanation. Trippy? I think this might be your cue to continue the tutorial. ¡°Indeed it is. Waystations are vital to our journey, as they¡¯re one of only two avenues by which a Wayfarer can reconstitute herself as well as ingrain all that hard-earned Liminal Karma. Although¡­¡± The disembodied voice trailed off, as if its owner was deep in thought. Or had dozed off. Serac had no way to tell. Trippy? ¡°Apologies. It¡¯s just¡­ I can¡¯t help but wonder about this particular Waystation¡¯s placement. If it indeed had been dropped here by Zacarias Borges-Juventus, he certainly chose an odd location for it. He followed someone into the Damnatorium in order to recover his Erudite Instrument, did he not? If that were the case, you¡¯d expect his Waystation to be somewhere near or along the entrance and not the exit¡­ unless¡ª¡± Unless he¡¯s already made his way in and out before? And now something¡¯s keeping him here? An obstacle, or maybe¡­? Serac¡¯s mind flashed once more with the image of a lush mountain, as vivid as it¡¯d been unattainable. She hadn¡¯t asked Zacko what manner of Hanging Fruit might be out of his reach¡ªand whether the lure of that Fruit might be powerful enough to make a man willingly subject himself to torture¡­ ¡°Regardless, it doesn¡¯t change what we already know, which is that the Manusya hasn¡¯t told us everything. Be sure to keep your wits about you, but right now, the best way to do that happens to be¡­ to take the Manusya¡¯s advice and put his Waystation to use. Go on, Wayfarer. Have a seat next to the lotus and imitate your companion¡¯s posture as best you can. It¡¯s time I talked you through meditation.¡± Serac obeyed with an alacrity that might¡¯ve rankled her inner pragmatist who yet hung on for dear life. The truth was she didn¡¯t find it so difficult to trust Trippy¡¯s judgment on this matter, as she herself more or less agreed with its merits. No, the hard part was physically contorting herself into a cross-legged sitting position. She was a lot wearier and sorer from the preceding leg of the journey than she¡¯d realized, and it didn¡¯t help that REVOLVER and its holster rode up on her as she lowered herself to the ground. It took her a good minute of fidgeting and weight-shifting to settle into a pose that was painless enough to maintain. ¡°¡­ Good,¡± Trippy continued with a hint of annoyance, evidently having waited longer than he¡¯d expected for Serac to get comfortable. ¡°Now, this next portion might require a bit of trial and error, given there¡¯s much individual difference in how a Wayfarer might commune with the Interstitium. The analogy that helped me when I started out was to imagine two water balloons packed into one larger one. To start with, their membranes are so thin and malleable as to be all but inseparable. But as soon as you poke a hole in one of them¡ªeven a minuscule one; the smaller the better for this particular exercise¡ªthe leaking water separates the two membranes, thereby giving shape to the once indiscernible space between them. Do you follow, Wayfarer?¡± Serac tried to follow, then immediately ran into a problem, namely that she¡¯d never seen nor played with a water balloon in her life. Trippy¡¯s analogy, therefore, was a little too fun and fantastical to resonate with a Narakite that¡¯d spent her whole existence in prison. Having read her thoughts, Trippy let out a sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, Serac Edin. I never anticipated I¡¯d have to teach someone how to meditate. It¡¯s something that often comes naturally to those who need it, especially since most Wayfarers¡¯ prior life experiences aren¡¯t¡­ quite so limited in scope as yours.¡± Yes, yes. I¡¯m an uncultured hell bumpkin who didn¡¯t know her Poise from her Zen. But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve got nothing to draw from, does it? Spurred on by competitive spite, the Rakshasa bumpkin took to her task with renewed passion if not a real understanding of the assignment. The point is I should picture spaces that don¡¯t really exist; is that the gist of it? ¡°That plus something freely entering those spaces. Preferably something that you can equate to a part or essence of yourself.¡± An essence of herself filling spaces that shouldn¡¯t exist. That was all the clue Serac needed to latch onto a reference point from her ¡®limited-in-scope¡¯ existence. It only helped that the experience in question had been quite recent. Solid into liquid. A viscous soup seeping into the unseen crevices between craggy teeth. To join the ancient layers of redness that were already caked on there. To become an ungodly amalgam of the Pulverizer plus whatever still remained of a Rakshasa and her fading dreams¡­ Serac¡¯s eyes, closed as they were in ¡®meditation¡¯, filled with new visions. A shift in her metaphysical world. Pathsight unlocking more features of itself in recognition of a hell bumpkin¡¯s newfound resonance with the Interstitium. The first thing she noticed was something felt rather than seen.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The pure-white lotus grew outward¡ªor perhaps Serac herself had shrunk into the flower. The petals then wrapped and merged with every facet of her body, lingering upon bleeding wounds and strained muscles. They didn¡¯t linger for long, however. For soon after coming in contact with the lotus petals, the wounds stopped bleeding and the muscles repaired themselves. Before long, Serac left behind the wear and sores of the preceding leg of the journey as she was made whole once more. Reconstitution. ¡°Precisely,¡± Trippy confirmed what the rookie Wayfarer had already surmised. ¡°I have to say, I¡¯m more than a little disturbed by your vision of choice, but we got there in the end. Now, look. Everything is back in its proper place.¡± [Designation: SERAC EDIN] [Karmic Level: 1] [Liminal Karma: 2384 ?] [HP: 577/577] [MP: 68/68] [Stamina: 108] [Poise: 65] [Cartridge: 6|30] [Burden: 0/27 (Light)] The next part of meditation was something seen¡ªand puzzled over¡ªrather than felt. Serac soon became aware of a second block of text. It was denser with information than anything else she¡¯d seen previously. And in true Pathsight fashion, none of it was explained well or really at all. [Karmic Level 1 -> ] [Liminal Karma: 2384 ?] [Requisite Karma: 1030 ?] <> [Ambition: 15 -> ] [Attunement: 9 -> ] [Abidance: 14 -> ] [Substance: 6 -> ] [Insight: 11 -> ] [Integrity: 13 -> ] [Immanence: 20 -> ] < > [HP: 577 -> ] [MP: 68 -> ] [Stamina: 108 -> ] [Poise: 65 -> ] [Cartridge: 36 -> ] [Burden: 27 -> ] [REVOLVER Base AV: 111 -> ] [PULVERIZER Base AV: 89 -> ] [PHYSICAL Mitigation: 11.9% -> ] [INFERNAL Mitigation: 15.3% -> ] [ZEALOUS Mitigation: 8.5% -> ] [PRIMAL Mitigation: 17.6% -> ] [ERUDITE Mitigation: 12.5% -> ] [MARTIAL Mitigation: 14.2% -> ] [DEIFIC Mitigation: 19.9% -> ] Serac sat with the information for some time¡­ until both her physical and metaphysical eyes glazed over. And you said this was less work for the Devas to keep track of? ¡°They¡¯re numbers. Concrete and discrete. And by that simple virtue, they¡¯re easier and more intuitive to work with than almost anything else one could think to substitute in their stead.¡± I guess I¡¯ll take your word for it. But what concrete and discrete thing am I meant to do with them now? ¡°You¡¯re going to level up. Literally. Right now, you should have enough Liminal Karma to level up twice. Choose one of the seven attributes you see listed, and you¡¯ll ingrain the Requisite Karma in exchange for one additional point in that attribute, as well as an increase to your overall Karmic Level.¡± You mean I have to spend the Karma I just earned? Doesn¡¯t that¡­ defeat the whole purpose? I thought we were meant to accumulate more Karma so we can ascend to a higher Realm. ¡°Ah, but you see, Liminal Karma is just that: Karma in its intermediate and volatile state, belonging more to the Interstitium than to any one soul. Karma doesn¡¯t become truly yours until you ingrain it. Think of yourself as a mobile Waystation, if you will, and meditation the method by which you permanently Anchor the Liminal Karma that¡¯s followed you on the latest leg of your journey.¡± Let me get this straight. I can lose Karma while it¡¯s still in its Liminal state. But once I ingrain it, it¡¯s mine forever? ¡°¡­ Strictly speaking, my answer to that would depend on your definition of ¡®forever¡¯, but that¡¯s a discussion best tabled for another day. You more or less have the right of it, Serac Edin. In fact, you have a living breathing example of this very concept sitting right next to you. Even though Zacarias Borges-Juventus¡¯s Liminal Karma deficit is in the negative ten-thousands, his Karmic Level of ¡®16¡¯ remains unchanged. Whatever made that man stray so drastically from the Path, it must¡¯ve happened after he¡¯d been Wayfaring in good faith for some time.¡± Alright, I think I get it. And I¡¯m guessing that adding points to an attribute is also going to improve these, uh, ¡®parameters¡¯ down here? Like I can have more HP¡­ or maybe more Cartridge? ¡°Precisely. Would you like me to go over them with you? As opaque as Pathsight¡¯s black box can be, Wayfarers across the ages have had Kalpas to compile findings and compare notes¡ªon the rare occasions where they did form alliances. I could share with you my own interpretations and philosophies about Pathsight¡¯s leveling system¡­ if you want me to, that is.¡± At first, her tutor¡¯s sudden reticence struck Serac as odd. Wasn¡¯t he meant to be her handler, ready to prod and steer her along every twist and bend in the road? But no, that had never been their ¡®agreement¡¯. And Trippy himself had expressed that it wasn¡¯t his intention to hold her hand through every challenge and uncertainty. Trippy had chosen Serac, not to mold her in his image, but because he¡¯d been seduced by the promise of what she could become on her own. Ambition and the talent to match. What kind of a Wayfarer would she be if she couldn¡¯t even decide how to ingrain her own Karma? No? She communicated her answer, rather hesitantly at first. Then she reiterated with more emphasis. No. Something tells me this is one of those things I need to figure out by myself. By trial and error if I have to. Otherwise¡­ otherwise, I¡¯d just become Trippy #2 instead of Serac Edin. It was a strange thing. Somehow, she could sense Trippy¡¯s smile of approval, even though she had no idea what he was supposed to look like¡ªor if he even had a face with which to smile. ¡°I don¡¯t disagree, Serac Edin. Indeed, it¡¯s one of the immutable truths about the afterlife¡ªthat for every billion or trillion Wayfarers, there will be a billion or trillion different Paths to tread. At the end of the day, a soul must above all be true to itself for its place in the universe to mean anything.¡± Even in the midst of her meditation, Serac found herself smiling back. She wasn¡¯t absolutely sure if she fully understood this ¡®truth¡¯ Trippy had endorsed and she herself had apparently arrived at on her own. Regardless, affirming it had filled her heart with warm fuzzies, and for now, that was good enough for her. Except¡­ Ambition? Attunement? Abidance? In what context? On second thought, maybe it would be prudent to ask for a quick primer. Just a little prod, just to get her started on the right¡ª ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re a leveling virgin too.¡± Serac¡¯s eyes snapped wide open, erasing her meditation-scape in an instant and bringing her face to face with what was surely the vilest, most vomit-inducing smirk in all the Six Realms. ¡°I don¡¯t think you could¡¯ve found a more repellent way to say that if you tried,¡± she spat, now utterly bereft of any goodwill Zacko¡¯s earlier heroics might¡¯ve engendered, ¡°and what¡¯s it to you, anyway?¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t deny the ¡®too¡¯ part. Noted. And it¡¯s okay, don¡¯t be shy. We all had to start somewhere.¡± Zacko¡¯s smirk remained, unbothered by the ire it¡¯d drawn. He then proceeded to prove Serac wrong. He could find a more repellent way to say the thing. ¡°Would you care for a quick primer? I¡¯d be happy to provide one, you know. It¡¯d be my honor to help pop your leveling cherry.¡± 13. Leveling Guide 13. Leveling Guide ¡°The first thing to understand is the difference between your wants and your needs. Put it this way. What you want is the way you see yourself stunting on some fools when you¡¯re all the way up in Suradao. What you need, though, is the way you keep yourself alive while you¡¯re still struggling down here in Naraka.¡± Serac listened with bulging eyes and flared nostrils. She still seethed from Zacko¡¯s earlier comments, and her anger only grew as she reluctantly nodded along to the man¡¯s admittedly intuitive explanation. ¡°A good rule of thumb when leveling is to keep one eye on your wants as the ¡®final product¡¯ to aim for, while prioritizing your needs early to give yourself a smoother path to get there. Somewhere along the road, you¡¯ll have sufficiently met your needs such that you¡¯ll have no trouble staying alive for as long as you need to. That¡¯s when the thought creeps in: man, I wish I could stunt on these fools faster and harder. And that¡¯s when you start shifting your leveling priorities towards your wants.¡± ¡°I think I get it,¡± Serac said through gritted teeth, ¡°but then how do I know which of these attributes meet my needs and which cater to my wants? I mean¡­ Substance? Insight? Imm¡ªImmanence? Who named these, anyway? Couldn¡¯t they have called them ¡®HP-booster¡¯ or ¡®Stamina-juice¡¯ or something?¡± At this, Zacko made a face like he was genuinely disgusted (the absolute nerve of him!). ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you weren¡¯t on the Pathsight design team. Can you imagine having to level up Stamina-juice to beat a boss? No, the attribute names are fine¡­ though I¡¯ll admit they can be a little cryptic for the uninitiated. Here, I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want me to just tell you everything, so I¡¯ll give you a hint, then you can figure out the rest on your own.¡± Serac opened her mouth to protest, then recalled her earlier resolve when it¡¯d been just her and Trippy. She then opted for a disgruntled nod. ¡°Alright, listen close, because I can only do this once with a straight face. To need Integrity is to Abide by the Substance of my Ambitions. To want Integrity is to Attune to the Insights Immanent within my soul. Got it?¡± Serac¡¯s eyes, hitherto bulging with rage, now narrowed in hesitant contemplation. It would¡¯ve been flattery of the highest order to say that Zacko¡¯s ¡®riddle¡¯ made much sense in a vacuum, but given the context, its intent was clear enough. ¡°In other words,¡± she said slowly, not yet fully convinced that Zacko wasn¡¯t having a laugh at her expense, ¡°[Abidance], [Substance], and [Ambition] are firmly in the ¡®need¡¯ camp. Whereas [Attunement], [Insight], and [Immanence] are ¡®wants¡¯. But apparently, [Integrity] is important enough to be both?¡± At this, Zacko scrunched up his face and sucked in air through his teeth¡ªthe universal gesture for almost, but not quite. Serac frowned. What was wrong with her interpretation? Could the riddle have been more complicated than just grouping the attributes into needs and wants? Or was [Integrity] the sticking point? Important enough to be both¡ªor maybe¡­ the fact that it could be either reduced its relative importance? No new information was forthcoming, and there was no point trying to puzzle it out in the abstract. If Serac knew anything about Pathsight, it loved showing off the numbers it deemed fit to share. As such, she knew how best to test out her hypotheses. It took considerably more effort this time to get back into a meditative state (the image of her soup self seeping into the Pulverizer kept getting intercut with Zacko¡¯s irreverent smirk). Once she did, however, she found her vision already tuned to the leveling display, as though even Pathsight was impatient to get on with it. [Karmic Level 1 -> ] [Liminal Karma: 2384 ?] [Requisite Karma: 1030 ?] <> [Ambition: 15 -> ] [Attunement: 9 -> ] [Abidance: 14 -> ] [Substance: 6 -> ] [Insight: 11 -> ] [Integrity: 13 -> ] [Immanence: 20 -> ] < > [HP: 577 -> ] [MP: 68 -> ] [Stamina: 108 -> ] [Poise: 65 -> ] [Cartridge: 36 -> ] [Burden: 27 -> ] [REVOLVER Base AV: 111 -> ] [PULVERIZER Base AV: 89 -> ] [PHYSICAL Mitigation: 11.9% -> ] [INFERNAL Mitigation: 15.3% -> ] [ZEALOUS Mitigation: 8.5% -> ] [PRIMAL Mitigation: 17.6% -> ] [ERUDITE Mitigation: 12.5% -> ] [MARTIAL Mitigation: 14.2% -> ] [DEIFIC Mitigation: 19.9% -> ] The first thing to test, of course, was just how [Integrity] fit into everything. Serac focused her consciousness onto the line that read [Integrity: 13 -> ] and saw it change immediately, reflecting her intent in real time: [Integrity: 13 -> 14]. This was accompanied by¡­ a grand total of two updates to the rest of the numbers. [INFERNAL Mitigation: 15.3% -> 15.9%] [ERUDITE Mitigation: 12.5% -> 13.1%] Serac raised an eyebrow, unsure what to make of it all. This wasn¡¯t quite how she¡¯d pictured an attribute of ¡®need¡¯ to behave, though she supposed ¡®Mitigation¡¯ did sound like something that¡¯d be important for survival. The other keywords that caught her attention were ¡®Infernal¡¯, which sounded highly relevant to the fact that she was literally in hell, as well as ¡®Erudite¡¯, which she had to assume was the same ¡®Erudite¡¯ that was used to describe Zacko¡¯s missing Instrument.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. All good. No need to rush into a choice. Let¡¯s see what the other attributes have to offer. Pathsight readily responded to her shopper¡¯s indecision, erasing the proposed changes to offer another blank canvas. Next, I just wanna see what all the ¡®want¡¯ attributes are about. [Insight: 11 -> 12] [PRIMAL Mitigation: 17.6% -> 18.2%] [MARTIAL Mitigation: 14.2% -> 14.8%] [Immanence: 20 -> 21] [PRIMAL Mitigation: 17.6% -> 18.2%] [DEIFIC Mitigation: 19.9% -> 20.5%] More ¡®Mitigation¡¯ numbers, which still didn¡¯t tell Serac what she was actually trying to mitigate. Most disappointing of all was this [Immanence]. She¡¯d had high hopes for it, seeing as how it was her highest starting attribute. Yet, despite sporting the fanciest highfalutinest name of them all, it only offered the two changes, and likely the least helpful ones at that. For Serac¡¯s instincts told her that, this far down in the depths of Naraka, she didn¡¯t have to worry too much about mitigating anything that could be described as ¡®Deific¡¯. So, [Insight] and [Immanence] were more of the same as [Integrity]. But that still left one more attribute in the ¡®want¡¯ bucket. [Attunement: 9 -> 10] [MP: 68 -> 72] [Burden: 27 -> 28] [ZEALOUS Mitigation: 8.5% -> 9.1%] [ERUDITE Mitigation: 12.5% -> 13.1%] Okay, now we¡¯re getting somewhere. An increase to MP, ¡®Burden¡¯ (something Serac had yet to learn about), and two more types of Mitigation. Good to know, and more MP is tempting, but I can see why this is in the ¡®want¡¯ pile. Simple logic told her that raising the maximum MP would give her more flexibility in allocating her spells. At 68, she could use [Catharsis] (cost: 21) twice and [The Grind] (cost: 25) once. 72 would allow her to flip that if she wanted to ([The Grind] twice and [Catharsis] once). But did she want to? She knew that, between the two spells, [Catharsis] had the higher damage potential, even if it came with a hefty HP penalty to herself. There might well be situations where being able to cast [The Grind] twice would come in handy, but none that came to mind immediately. In any case, it certainly didn¡¯t feel like a priority. Welp, time to dig into the ¡®need¡¯ pile and see what they have on offer. [Ambition: 15 -> 16] [HP: 577 -> 604] [Cartridge: 36 -> 38] [PHYSICAL Mitigation: 11.9% -> 12.5%] [DEIFIC Mitigation: 19.9% -> 20.5%] [Abidance: 14 -> 15] [Stamina: 108 -> 110] [Poise: 65 -> 66] [INFERNAL Mitigation: 15.3% -> 15.9%] [MARTIAL Mitigation: 14.2% -> 14.8%] [Substance: 6 -> 7] [REVOLVER Base AV: 111 -> 113] [PULVERIZER Base AV: 89 -> 91] [PHYSICAL Mitigation: 11.9% -> 12.5%] [ZEALOUS Mitigation: 8.5% -> 9.1%] Okay, now we¡¯re cooking with gas! Even before committing to a level-up, Serac allowed herself a moment to soak in the dopamine. Look at all these shiny new numbers! But which of these do I need the most? The first set that drew her attention was the [Substance] tree. A previous conversation with Trippy had told her that ¡®AV¡¯ stood for ¡®Attack Value¡¯, which she assumed would correspond to the damage output of one unimbued REVOLVER bullet. This, compared to any other attribute, gave her the clearest avenue to stunting on fools faster and harder, but did a handful of damage points really make enough of a difference to be worth it? To answer this question, she did some maths that weren¡¯t as quick and simple as she would¡¯ve liked. Okay, if I put two levels into [Substance] right now, REVOLVER¡¯s base damage goes from 111 to 115. If I were to fight a Jailer again after that, could I kill it in one fewer shot? The math was imprecise, as Pathsight in its curated opacity offered no records of enemy HP. But, working off of Serac¡¯s own memories of Jailer HP bars and their decrementations, her conclusion could only be a firm ¡®no¡¯. Okay, maybe we could circle back to this one. What about [Abidance]? Right now, I could get Stamina up to 111 and Poise to 67. But¡­ I still don¡¯t know if that¡¯s enough to make a practical difference. Would it let me dodge one more time or take an extra shot before I tire myself out? Could I take an additional hit before I¡¯m Poise-broken? Hmm¡­ I feel like I just don¡¯t have enough information or experience to make use of this just yet. In the end, a process of elimination left her with only one choice. Thankfully, it also happened to be the most enticing choice, and in more ways than one. [Ambition]. I already like the name. But also, look at what it¡¯s offering! More HP, enough for me to tank one extra hit with a PULVERIZER block. More ammo, which can only ever be a good thing. And I like the sound of this here ¡®Physical Mitigation¡¯. Because, if I¡¯m not mistaken, every attack that¡¯s hit me so far has been of the ¡®Physical¡¯ variety¡­ She was just about ready to make her choice permanent when another bit of curiosity stayed her meditative mind. Looking at this set of ¡®need¡¯ attributes, it really makes you wonder why the ¡®want¡¯ attributes do so little. Especially that [I] trio of [Insight], [Integrity], and [Immanence]. They can¡¯t be only good for Mitigation, can they? Must be more to them that¡¯s just not showing up for me at the moment. Something that¡¯ll probably come into play in the future¡­ And that was where she yanked back her wandering mind. All that was for future Serac to worry about. Right now, she could only work with what she knew, and what she knew was that she could really do with an HP-and-ammo-booster. She committed to the choice, and Pathsight reflected her decision. [Karmic Level: 1 -> 3] [Liminal Karma: 301 ?] [Cumulative Karma: 2083 ?] [Requisite Karma: 1077 ?] [Ambition: 15 -> 17] [HP: 577 -> 633] [Cartridge: 36 -> 40] [PHYSICAL Mitigation: 11.9% -> 13.1%] [DEIFIC Mitigation: 19.9% -> 21.0%] As Serac phased out of her meditative state and back into physical reality, she was met once again¡ªto her chagrin¡ªby Zacko¡¯s skin-crawling smile. ¡°All set? I hope so. You have the look of someone who¡¯s just done some good shopping.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Serac murmured absent-mindedly as she rose to her feet and checked herself over. Body at full health. Clean set of Penitent¡¯s rags. And a belt lined end to end with ammunition. Good to go! She turned back to Zacko, now able to give him her full snide attention. ¡°Funny you say that, because I¡¯m having the worst buyer¡¯s remorse right now. Remorse for letting you tag along.¡± ¡°Oof, and here I was, thinking we¡¯d been getting along famously!¡± Zacko didn¡¯t miss a beat as he too stood to full height, showing off his now slime-less pompadour and puke-less clothes as he did. ¡°Well, hate to break it to ya, but you¡¯re stuck with me for a while yet. Because we¡¯re about to face our first real test as a tag team.¡± Serac raised an inquisitive eyebrow despite herself. ¡°Yeah? What makes you say that?¡± By way of reply, Zacko hooked a thumb toward the Rakshasa-sized flap¡ªthe ¡®epiglottis¡¯¡ªthat served as the antechamber¡¯s single exit. ¡°Just beyond that door is our one way out of this prison. But it¡¯s guarded by that jackass I told you about¡ªthe one that stole my Erudite Instrument. And you better believe he¡¯s not gonna go easy on us.¡± 14. Jackass 14. Jackass Zacko promptly strode over to the epiglottis, leaving a flustered Serac to scramble after him. ¡°Wait!¡± she called. ¡°If this guy is so tough, shouldn¡¯t we¡­ you know, talk strategy first?¡± The Manusya glanced over his shoulder, wearing a patronizing smile that irked Serac even more than his irreverent one. His eyes then flashed with Pathsight before he responded, ¡°You¡¯ve got¡­ what, 300 ish Liminal Karma at the moment? Pfft, you can earn that back in no time!¡± Serac stared blankly for a moment, not quite seeing the thread of the conversation. ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s true¡­ but shouldn¡¯t I still do my best to stay alive? I mean, wasn¡¯t that the whole point of leveling ¡®needs¡¯ before ¡®wants¡¯?¡± Zacko chuckled at this, not in a mean-spirited way, but more like a grown-up laughing at a young child¡¯s blunders. Serac flared her nostrils; she would¡¯ve preferred it if the chuckle had been of the mean-spirited variety. ¡°Look, sweet¡ªer, Serac. Here¡¯s another thing about Wayfaring, which is that you need to get comfortable with dying. I mean, what¡¯s the point of living an afterlife if we¡¯re not willing to die a little? We level our ¡®needs¡¯, yes, to so we can stay in tough fights long enough to win them, but we still need to understand those fights first. Like my mama always used to say, you die and you learn. Now, come on!¡± Serac stared dubiously, far from convinced. Maybe she was too much of an uncultured hell bumpkin to appreciate an outrealmer¡¯s disregard for his own life. Rationally, she understood the safety net offered by the Waystation she¡¯d just tethered herself to. Emotionally, however, it felt wrong to rely on that insurance. She could, of course, rattle off a number of perfectly sympathetic reasons for her reluctance to die. A natural desire for self-preservation. An aversion to pain. The tedium of having to repeat a task more than once. But there was also something more. Something she felt acutely in the core of her being, yet couldn¡¯t quite put into words¡­ ¡°Once again, I find myself having to agree with the Manusya.¡± Serac jumped. Somehow, she¡¯d forgotten all about Trippy again! ¡°Here¡¯s another adage I remember from my Wayfaring days: what kills you can only make you stronger. To that, I would add only one qualifier: as long as you take the right lessons from it. Now, as with any reductive statement, it won¡¯t hold true in all cases¡ªespecially as we continue to ascend the slopes of Mount Meru. But down here in the untamed wastelands of Naraka, this is the ideal time for you to fail and fail again, so you may learn how best to succeed.¡± Jeez, fine, if you both want to see me die so badly¡­ Serac dropped her shoulders and made to follow Zacko into what was by all accounts a losing battle. As she did, something snagged against the core of her being, a sensation that was nearly opposite to the dopamine rush she¡¯d felt earlier from leveling up. It was something she still couldn¡¯t quite put into words. The epiglottis slid outward at a grunt and a push from Zacko, producing with it a strong gust of wind that nearly knocked Serac off her feet. She braced against it and pushed on, feeling her Penitent¡¯s rags tauten against her skin as she ducked through the antechamber¡¯s exit. Outside, the wind immediately lessened in intensity, owing to there being much more room for it to maneuver. The Wayfarer pair had come upon a wide-open thoroughway, one encircled by solid muscle. The ceilings here were high enough to fit several Jailers stacked atop one another, and the passage itself was just as wide. Serac could easily imagine a large group of inmates being herded into the Damnatorium like cattle, yet somehow, she couldn¡¯t see herself as part of that procession. She wondered at this¡ªthis absence of memories of ever entering the Damnatorium. It was, quite frankly, as she¡¯d suspected. She¡¯d always been here. This was the only life she knew. How depraved and monstrous a sinner must she have been in her previous life¡ªto have been born a Penitent and nothing else? ¡°Don¡¯t look so glum,¡± Zacko called over with casual cheer, evidently having misinterpreted the source of Serac¡¯s darkened expression. ¡°This jackass has got hands, but he¡¯s still a lowly Warden in the lowest pits of hell. Couldn¡¯t ask for a more appropriate first boss on a Wayfarer¡¯s journey. If I¡¯m being honest, I¡¯m a little jealous that you get to kick off your progression in such a sensible manner.¡± ¡°You keep calling this guy Jackass.¡± Serac played along, if only to distract herself from her own thoughts. ¡°Any particular reason why that¡¯s stuck?¡± ¡°Why do I keep calling Jackass ¡®Jackass¡¯? Well¡­ I think you¡¯ll see for yourself in just a second.¡± This inane back-and-forth coincided with a dramatic change in scenery. For the Wayfarer pair had now climbed out of the Damnatorium¡¯s ¡®throat¡¯ and onto its ¡®mouth¡¯ proper. It was an enormous dome-shaped room, one that lacked the kind of obvious ¡®orifice¡¯ Serac had hoped to see at the end of her prison break. Instead, it was lined on all sides by pink, fleshy walls that glistened and dripped with mucus. Its floor¡ªthe ¡®tongue¡¯, as it were¡ªwas of an unsettlingly bumpy and bouncy consistency, one that immediately challenged Serac¡¯s sense of balance. But perhaps the room¡¯s most striking feature was its ceiling. This was where the omnipresent mucus was at its most viscous and variform, in many places pooling into globules that hung by tensile strings of saliva.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. What was more, each of these globules was also occupied by Rakshasa-sized figures folded into fetal positions. Indeed, these figures were Rakshasas. Some were no doubt failed escapees, but most were unfortunate souls who never made it past the prison¡¯s mouth before getting their first (and permanent) taste of torture. ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± Serac breathed, horrified and fascinated in equal measure. ¡°Could we maybe get them out, do you think? I mean we¡¯re so close to the exit, it¡¯d be a shame to leave them behind.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bother,¡± Zacko said, not entirely without a hint of sympathy. ¡°I think they¡¯re already beyond saving.¡± Serac had to squint to see what her companion meant. Her eyes eventually met those of one of the trapped Rakshasas. Except they weren¡¯t really eyes¡ªonly yawning red hollows where eyes should¡¯ve been. Frenzied Penitents. ¡°Besides,¡± Zacko went on, pointing to the dead center of the domed ceiling as he did, ¡°we¡¯re not getting out ourselves unless we deal with him.¡± Right on cue, the center of the dome suddenly caved inward, sucking in a large swath of globules and their Frenzied occupants as it did. It then formed its own giant and flesh-bound ¡®droplet¡¯, one that descended languidly toward the ground, even as its outer layer fell away piece by piece, revealing the monstrosity hidden within. The thing dropped onto the surface of the ¡®tongue¡¯ with a meaty plop. Even while crouched low to the ground, it was already larger than any Jailer Serac had met or smited, and it also lacked a Jailer¡¯s characteristic flab and pallor. In a word, its physical features were busy, with soggy fur, voluminous hair, and gangling limbs all competing for an uninitiated observer¡¯s attention. Too many limbs, in fact. For the thing now stood to its full height, revealing the extent of its chimeric morphology. First, a grotesque imitation of a man¡¯s upper body: sinewy muscles, elongated torso, and mismatched arms. This was attached at the hip to the lower body of an entirely different creature: a quartet of furry, stocky legs, complete with hooves and fetlock joints. Indeed, the shortness of these legs so ill-fitted the lankiness of the upper body as to give the whole package an almost comical imbalance. Are those¡­ donkey legs? Is that why Zacko keeps calling him ¡®Jackass¡¯? But while Serac gaped at the legs in amazement, Zacko¡¯s attention was trained elsewhere. The Manusya instead pointed to the creature¡¯s face. ¡°See that?¡± he said, now with a detectable undercurrent of anger. ¡°That¡¯s our prize. VISAGE. Time to take back what¡¯s mine.¡± VISAGE, as Serac might¡¯ve guessed from the name, turned out to be a mask, presently strapped around Jackass¡¯s oddly human-sized face and framed by an expansive mane of wild, graying hair. This Erudite Instrument, much like REVOLVER, was rather unremarkable in appearance, belying its supposedly magical properties. It looked to be wooden in make, with carvings that depicted the face of a laughing Buddha. Laughing Buddha? Another idea that just popped into Serac¡¯s mind, with no foreknowledge of her own knowledge. In any case, she now found this ¡®facial expression¡¯ to be the most unnatural feature of this chimera that stood before her. An ungodly amalgam of man, donkey, and permanent joviality. Yet, somehow, her first impression of Jackass was about to go from bad to worse. For the creature¡¯s descent into the arena had caused a number of Rakshasa-filled globules to fall with it. The globules then burst, throwing more Frenzied Penitents out into the wild. And the first thing that greeted these addled souls were the heft of a donkey¡¯s hooves. Jackass kicked out with his hindquarters, sending several Penitents flying into the air where they promptly vanished into Souldust. This threw the surviving Penitents into a ¡®frenzy¡¯, scrambling and lurching to get as far away from the donkey as possible. The donkey in turn hunted them, stomping some under-hoof and crushing others within his human-handed vise grip. Serac gaped at this wanton display of violence (put on by a laughing Buddha, no less!), and her only thought was: wow, what a jackass! But she couldn¡¯t gape on forever, for the jackass in question now turned his permanently jovial face onto the one sane Rakshasa in the room, along with her Manusya companion. Up until now, Serac had still held out a tiny hope that she might be allowed to pass through undisturbed. After all, Zacko was the one who had a quarrel with Jackass, and who was to say the two of them couldn¡¯t work out their differences in a civilized manner? But the hope was short-lived, as Jackass now reached for the metal chain around his hips in a manner that was anything but civilized. The chain unfurled to reveal Jackass¡¯s tethered weapon, one that was distinct in size and shape from any wielded by his underlings. Indeed, its appearance was so far removed from anyone¡¯s idea of a ¡®weapon¡¯ that Serac was surprised that she could identify it at all. It was a massive, fluctuant bladder of sorts, engorged on one end and tapering into a circular opening on the other. Its sides were covered by rigid metal boards that then jutted and twisted into handles for Jackass¡¯s mismatched limbs to grip. Serac knew exactly what the thing was called, not by cheating off the phantom knowledge from a past life, but because she had vivid memories of witnessing it in action in her current life. For this was the thing that had stoked many a Furnace while she herself cooked inside them. Yes, it was a bellows. Driven by equal parts self-preservation and fresh trauma, Serac raised REVOLVER and fired in a mad rush, marksmanship be damned. It was, however, too little too late, as the laughing Buddha had already squeezed the handles, thereby pushing the bellows¡¯ contents out through its tapered opening. One cartridge of the .44 Special went to waste, swallowed up by a veritable tornado. The wind, tangible in its force and velocity, expanded outward and ripped through Serac¡¯s all-too-mortal existence. Even as she rose high into the air, she felt keenly the familiar pain of torture as it left its marks in numerical form. [81!], [81!], [81!] -> [243!] To add insult and more injury to injury, she landed hard on her butt, which elicited its own notification¡ªSerac¡¯s first (and certainly not last) taste of fall damage: [165!]. And just like that, Serac was already down to her last third of HP ([225/633]). So much for prioritizing survivability! Who knew there was someone in this Damnatorium that could hit so hard? But if she didn¡¯t know about Jackass before, she certainly knew about him now, because Pathsight made sure of it: [Designation: BAYU the Unfettered Warden] [Aberrant Race: Hellspawn] [Aberrant Class: Dungeon Boss] [INFERNAL Instrument: DIAPHRAGM] 15. You Die and You Learn 15. You Die and You Learn [Designation: DIAPHRAGM] [Instrument Class: INFERNAL] [Anchored Realm: NARAKA (Base)] [Item Description: Records of the early days of the Damnatorium, much like concrete information about Naraka in general, are scant and far between. Yet, despite or perhaps because of its relative obscurity, it¡¯s a topic that has captured the imagination of lorechasers across the Six Realms, many of whom can agree on one popular theory, namely that the colossal prison complex was the magnum opus of a single architect¡ªone genius that cut through the chaos and mobilized an army of Hellspawns toward a common cause. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the construction and distribution of Furnaces: fiery engines that double as the Damnatorium¡¯s power source as well as one of its most feared forms of torture. It¡¯s understood that all Jailers, no matter to which section they¡¯ve been assigned to, are trained in maintaining and operating a Furnace. The most proficient and enterprising among them are then granted dispensation to wield the bellows, giving them license to make the most hellish infernos burn even hotter and ever darker.] *** Serac¡¯s first boss battle as a Wayfarer quickly went from bad to worse. The tornado that had whipped her into the air had, at the same time, torn through parts of the ceiling, causing more Frenzied Penitents to drop to the floor. These landed in numbers around their fellow Rakshasa and wasted no time in lurching towards her, onyx claws bared and no doubt relishing a much easier target for their violence than their Warden captor. Great. Not only have I got my hands full with Jackass over there, but I have to deal with a swarm of these guys too? She unloaded three bullets into the one closest to her, pocketed the ensuing Karma, then decided that the situation was highly untenable. Trying to deal with the Penitents one by one would leave her emptied of ammunition long before she could begin to fight the actual boss. If only she had the means to scare away the mob¡­ like a certain donkey¡¯s hind-legged kick. Failing that, all she could hope to do was¡ª ¡°Keep moving!¡± ¡°Keep moving!¡± The simultaneous shouts from her mentors both physical and disembodied spurred her into action. She broke into a controlled jog, loath to run down her Stamina too quickly. Luckily, the Frenzied Penitents inside the boss arena were just as dumb and predictable as the ones she¡¯d dispatched on the way here, which allowed her to run circles around them even at half-speed. She turned a distracted eye toward the boss in question and saw that his attention was presently occupied by Zacko. The NINEFOLD master danced just out of reach of Bayu the Unfettered Warden¡¯s surprisingly nimble donkey legs. It appeared to Serac that he was trying his darnedest to land a melee attack, but unable to get close enough to do so without risking a counter-kick. The stalemate broke with a decisive move from Bayu: a pump of DIAPHRAGM that pushed out more gusts of destruction. Seeing this, Serac herself scrambled to get out of the danger area, but at the same time, she couldn¡¯t tear her eyes away from Zacko and his strange NINEFOLD ways. For the Manusya had responded by standing his ground and holding out his right forearm against the oncoming wind. What is he, crazy? What good is a bare forearm in the face of an actual tornado? [Auxiliary Technique: THE FOURTH DAO¡ªSHIELD] Currents of DIAPHRAGMATIC wind hit Zacko¡¯s arm and parted ways. The man himself sagged under the immense pressure, but his feet remained firmly planted in ¡®tongue¡¯, and the space directly behind him became a haven of still, non-damaging air. Even as Serac gaped in astonishment, she found herself situated within this safe zone. And she didn¡¯t need any mentors to tell her that this was her first clear chance to fight back. Aim, lock¡ªwait for the winds to die down¡ªthen fire. This time, the .44 Special whizzed past the tip of Zacko¡¯s pompadour and found its target¡ªwithin the exposed muscles that connected a Warden¡¯s human abdomen to his donkey thorax. [106!] Serac looked to Bayu¡¯s HP bar with cautious optimism¡­ and had her hopes dashed in ruthless fashion. For the effect of one unimbued bullet had been so minimal as to be barely noticeable. The Warden, not for nothing, was a ¡®dungeon boss¡¯¡ªclearly a cut or two above his minions. How much HP does this guy have? Got to be at least double a Jailer¡¯s¡­If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Yet, while the damage was pitiful, Serac¡¯s shot had the effect of dividing the boss¡¯s attention. Bayu turned in place, shuffling his donkey feet and training his laughing Buddha face onto the gun-toting Rakshasa. This in turn gave Zacko the opening he needed to dash in for his first attack in the fight. [Auxiliary Technique: THE FIRST DAO¡ªBLADE] Zacko held his hand in a rigid open palm and delivered a swift hit with its edge¡ªa karate chop! Bayu¡¯s HP went down by another chunk: visibly higher damage than REVOLVER¡¯s bullet but still nowhere near enough to make a real dent. It also hadn¡¯t been enough to achieve Poise-break, as the Warden immediately responded with a donkey kick, forcing Zacko to jump back out of range. Serac sensed that it was her turn to act. This was the way to fight back: two Wayfarers with melee and ranged options to take turns distracting the boss. She readjusted her aim, locked, and¡ª [97!] Serac¡¯s concentration broke as something sharp and onyx-colored raked across the side of her face. Her bullet flew wide of the target. She herself tasted blood even before she felt the pain. Her HP too went down to its last discernible segment. The attack had seemingly come out of nowhere, but she now saw that one of the Penitents had been just as persistent as it was Frenzied, having chased her down just to land that claw swipe. Serac reacted with equal parts panic and anger, lashing out with a PULVERIZER punch. [102!]. This she quickly followed with a shot at point blank range and another punch for good measure, reducing yet another wayward soul to Souldust. REVOLVER¡¯s cylinder emptied then, and its wielder hastened to reload at least its first chamber. By then, the opportunity to chip away at the boss had been lost. Bayu and Zacko had already settled back into their earlier stalemate, but the former now had the clear advantage, having added two-handed swings of DIAPHRAGM to his repertoire. Zacko now had both human arms and donkey legs to worry about, and one slip-up (and a subsequent kick to his midsection) proved sufficient to send him tumbling halfway across the arena. Now, Serac was alone with the boss. And the boss smelled blood. Bayu pivoted toward the lone Rakshasa, with DIAPHRAGM¡¯s circular opening pointed squarely at its defenseless target. Serac raised REVOLVER to meet it, knowing there was only one thing left for her to try. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] The spell, as expected, began by taking out a chunk of its caster¡¯s HP. [127!]. That was more than enough drain the last of Serac¡¯s HP, and it was in this transitional state between body and Souldust that she observed the outcome of her last-ditch effort. DIAPHRAGM¡¯s tornado swept through the arena, enveloping Serac¡¯s fading form within its windy grasp. But she no longer took its damage nor felt the accompanying pain, leaving her free to focus on [Catharsis]¡¯s progress. The imbued bullet, encased as it was in penitent magic, flew straight through the oncoming tornado, leaving a contrail of black flames as it did. The bullet then made contact with the Warden¡¯s torso, before engulfing his whole body in its magical fire. This was met by a bloodcurdling screech, heard clearly even as it issued from behind a laughing Buddha mask. Bayu dropped DIAPHRAGM to his side and flailed his mismatched arms in obvious pain and alarm, even as [Catharsis]¡¯s three-stage damage ticked: [122!], [220!]¡ª And that was when Serac Edin phased fully into the Interstitium. She never got to see that third damage tick. Never got to see the total sum of the hurt her black flames had inflicted on a laughing Buddha. Instead, she experienced anew that funny sensation of flying over the wastelands of Naraka before being sucked back into the Damnatorium¡¯s throat. When she came to, she was surprised to find herself sitting next to a giant lotus flower, pain-free and fully formed. This was only her second reconstitution as a Wayfarer, and she wasn¡¯t about to get used to this strange taste of ¡®immortality¡¯ anytime soon. The first thing she did was to inspect her surroundings and confirm that this was indeed the antechamber that housed Zacko¡¯s Waystation, still marveling at the fact that she¡¯d made it back here at all. Then she looked over herself via Pathsight, noting her full HP, restocked Cartridge, and¡­ blanked Liminal Karma. A big fat [0 ?] stared back at her from the status display. All of it was gone. Not just the 300 or so she¡¯d gone into the boss fight with, but also the additional 160 she¡¯d picked up from dispatching a couple of Frenzied Penitents. Serac then sought out Trippy for an imaginary shoulder to cry on. Guess you weren¡¯t kidding about losing my Karma. ¡°Of course not. Balancing Karma gain against the risk of losing them is an integral part of Wayfaring. You won¡¯t get far on this journey if you can¡¯t consistently level your attributes along the way.¡± Yeah, yeah, I get you. But you also said I can get my Karma back, right? Well? Is this an organic enough teaching opportunity for you? ¡°It¡¯s quite simple, really. Whenever a Wayfarer falls to an enemy, their Liminal Karma is transferred to that enemy in a temporary state of flux. In order to recover it, you must smite the same entity that first smited you, then that packet of Karma will be transferred back to you in full, in addition to the reward that¡¯s due.¡± Right¡­ So, all I have to do now is beat Bayu¡¯s ass, and I get all my own Karma back plus whatever Pathsight would owe me for the smiting? ¡°Correct. But beware that the in-flux Karma is highly unstable. If you go back to Bayu now and fall to him again, that first packet will be permanently lost, never to be seen again.¡± Only one chance to get back to the place of my ignoble defeat and put things right. Got it. And as Serac pondered her latest of ignoble defeats, a familiar emotion bubbled up from the core of her being. It was that same nameless misgiving that had earlier prevented her from subscribing to the notion that she ought to ¡®get comfortable with dying¡¯. Only¡­ she could give name to it now¡ªor at least put it into concrete words. She now realized that it wasn¡¯t death she¡¯d feared. No, it was that she hated losing. Hated it with a passion. Hated it enough to stoke a hitherto dormant furnace within her soul. Right on cue, Serac¡¯s surroundings agitated with new commotion, as if in answer to her spiritual fire. The space on the other side of the lotus flower lit up with a sparkling cloud of Souldust, before the cloud solidified into a Manusya man, complete with a coiffed pompadour and a cocky smile. And Serac met the man¡¯s smile with a savage grin of her own, just as outsized and twice as irreverent. ¡°I see dying¡¯s done you some good,¡± Zacko said as his smile curled into a sneer, one meant for the Wayfarer pair¡¯s common enemy, ¡°and that means you and I are now ready to talk strategy.¡± 16. Divide and Conquer 16. Divide and Conquer [REVOLVER Spell: CATHARSIS] [MP Cost: 21] [Spell Description: Chamber One imbuement. Take 20% of max HP in self-damage, then imbue cartridge with the black flames of penitence that deal Infernal damage to a single target in three stages. The first stage is equal to REVOLVER¡¯s base AV converted to Infernal damage type. The second stage is equal to the first stage increased by the percentage of caster¡¯s missing HP, up to a maximum of 80%. The third stage is double the second stage.] *** Attempt #2 began much the same way as the first, with Bayu the Unfettered Warden throwing his own arena into pandemonium. A DIAPHRAGM-blown tornado howled through the air in a wide conal pattern, causing more Frenzied Penitents to fall from the sky. In other words, the boss fight began much the same way as its two challengers had pictured it. ¡°Jackass has got a lot of tricks up his sleeve,¡± Zacko had pontificated back at the Waystation, ¡°but his signature attack¡ªthe one he¡¯ll open every encounter with¡ªis that big AOE.¡± ¡°AOE?¡± ¡°Area of effect. Come on, keep up. That on its own wouldn¡¯t be too bad to deal with, but the way the boss arena is set up allows that AOE attack to call down a bunch of adds at the same time.¡± ¡°Adds?¡± ¡°Yeah, added mobs. Those crazies that fall from the sky whenever their bubbles burst. Come on, Serac, context clues; don¡¯t expect me to be your walking glossary.¡± Joke¡¯s on you. I¡¯ve already got a walking glossary, right inside my own head. ¡°Anyway, because of those adds, what we need is to divide and conquer. The dividing part is easy. Because one of us is pretty good at drawing aggro¡ª¡± ¡°He means to keep the boss distracted and focused on one target.¡± ¡°¡ªwhile the other is better suited for dealing with the adds. But the conquering part? Well, that comes down to execution, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Presently, Zacko stuck close to Bayu, using [Shield] to keep himself grounded. Serac, on the other hand, stayed true to her side of the divided labor, sprinting well clear of the tornado while watching how and where the bodies hit the floor. Yes, she was the ¡®other¡¯ in the equation, better suited for dealing with the adds. At a glance, she counted a baker¡¯s dozen in total, scattered all around the arena. Assuming each of them required three bullets to put down (and assuming she didn¡¯t miss), that would leave her with just one to spend on the boss. And that was okay. Because a single bullet was all she needed to complete her side of the conquest. But one thing at a time. First, she needed to thin out the adds so Zacko could safely ¡®draw aggro¡¯ to his heart¡¯s content. And in order to let her companion single-task, Serac herself needed to multi-task. Across the arena, the Penitent nearest Zacko lurched to its feet and made a beeline for the NINEFOLD master. Serac ran into range and stopped it in its tracks with three well-placed shots. Even as her first kill turned to Souldust, she pivoted in place, scanning for and finding the next threat. One shot. Two shots. Three¡ª The third shot flew wide as Serac ducked, forced into saving her own skin from a Penitent that had snuck up right behind her. She spun and socked it in the jaw with PULVERIZER, dealing [102!] points of damage while also knocking it off-balance. She then used the momentary reprieve to reload one bullet and pivot her sights back onto Zacko and his immediate threat. She finished that Penitent off, one bullet later than she¡¯d planned to, then spun again to PULVERIZE the one nearest her to Souldust. Talk about multi-tasking! Not only did she have to pay attention to both her and Zacko¡¯s safety, she also had to manage her Stamina and still keep one eye on Bayu and his DIAPHRAGM. It was a lot, but she also knew that the division in labor was more or less fair. For while Zacko needed only to focus on the one target, that same target could very well kill him in an instant. And focus he did. The Manusya didn¡¯t so much as steal a glance in Serac¡¯s direction as he kept up his dance of death with Bayu. It seemed he had full trust in his Rakshasa partner¡­ or, perhaps, he really was perfectly comfortable with dying again and again if he had to. Either way, the sight of Zacko¡¯s singular focus on his aggro-drawing role triggered in Serac another jolt of dissonant nostalgia. Somehow, she felt at home. Somehow, the fight and its rhythm felt familiar. That familiarity bred confidence. Confidence in herself. Confidence in victory. All told, it took exactly 39 bullets, 11 PULVERIZER punches, and countless sprints around the arena to take down all 13 adds. Through it all, Zacko had done a marvelous job of keeping Bayu all to himself, but a quick Pathsighted glance told Serac that the boss still boasted a full HP bar¡ªat least double that of a single Jailer.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it No matter. Now that the fight had condensed into a 2v1, the Wayfarers were ready to move into phase two of their plan. ¡°It goes without saying, but there¡¯s a limit to how long I can play the ¡®tank¡¯ role,¡± Zacko had explained as the two of them shared notes on each other¡¯s strengths and weaknesses. ¡°Every activation of THE NINEFOLD DAO eats up a bit of MP. At some point, I¡¯m simply going to run out. We need to finish the fight before that happens. Any ideas?¡± ¡°That means we need a way to deal big damage in a short amount of time,¡± Serac had suggested, ¡°and I think I know just the thing. [Catharsis]. It requires a bit of set-up, but it¡¯s definitely the hardest-hitting thing in my arsenal.¡± ¡°Yeah, I saw that! Right before I took a fatal hit myself, that is. But it¡¯s not enough by itself, is it? I think, in total, it did about half of Jackass¡¯s HP.¡± ¡°Not by itself, no,¡± Serac had mused out loud, her ¡®idea¡¯ forming even as she spoke it into being, ¡°but with a¡ªwhat was it¡ªcritical multiplier, though?¡± ¡°Now you¡¯re thinking like a Wayfarer.¡± ¡°Now you¡¯re thinking like a Wayfarer!¡± Zacko had unknowingly echoed the voice in Serac¡¯s head. ¡°I can Poise-break Jackass first, make him vulnerable, then you can come in and one-shot him with your [Catharsis]. Don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t get mad about you stealing my smiting.¡± ¡°Excuse you? Not really your smiting, is it, if I¡¯m dealing most of the damage?¡± ¡°Now you¡¯re quibbling like a Wayfarer, too. I like it. Getting back on topic for a minute, I do have a technique that¡¯s tailor-made for Poise-breaking big dudes like Jackass, but in order for me to land it, I¡¯m gonna need plenty of opening. Do you think, once you¡¯re done getting rid of the adds, that you¡¯ll be able to draw aggro? Just for a Ksana or two, long enough for me to do my thing?¡± ¡°I can do that.¡± Serac had made a sour face as she said this. Not because she didn¡¯t think she was up for the job, but because she knew exactly what the job required of her. ¡°In fact, I kind of have to do it. It¡¯s¡­ part of my set-up.¡± Phase two. It was time for the Wayfarers to switch roles, at least for a Ksana or two. But first, Serac loaded her final cartridge¡ªthe one she¡¯d saved just for this part of the fight¡ªinto Chamber One. [1|0]. And with just the one bullet left to her, the best way she could think to make herself the center of Bayu¡¯s aggression was to¡ª ¡°Oi, Jackass!¡± Donkey legs shuffled in place. A Warden¡¯s mismatched limbs twisted in search of their next victim. And the face of a laughing Buddha found its target, showing nothing of what it thought about the insult it¡¯d just copped. Serac, for her part, found the Buddha¡¯s gaze rather creepy in its immutability and menacing in its intensity. She forced herself to swallow her rising fear and stand in place, raising REVOLVER to eye level as she did. But, at least on this occasion, her marksman¡¯s stance was only for show¡ªan important part of her set-up. Bayu uncoiled a donkey kick for the ages, shooting out his hind-legs with all the fury of a Warden scorned. Serac met the two-hooved attack¡ªunmitigated¡ªsquare in the chest. [264!] She went flying. Nearly as high as when she¡¯d been caught by a tornado during the previous fight. And just like that last time, she landed on her butt with another wallop of fall damage. [165!]. Very scary. Very painful. And very much a necessary part of her set-up. Even as her head swam from the impact and pain, she forced herself to get up and ready for the next part of her job. As she did, she managed to catch a glimpse of Zacko¡¯s technique, the one touted to be ¡®tailor-made for Poise-breaking big dudes¡¯. It was an impressively acrobatic move, one that started with a soaring jump¡ªhigh enough to bring Zacko¡¯s own face level with that of the Buddha¡¯s¡ªand ended with: [Auxiliary Technique: THE SIXTH DAO¡ªCUDGEL] Zacko¡¯s head connected with Bayu¡¯s with a sickening crack. A leaping headbutt! Serac hadn¡¯t known what to expect, but now that she¡¯d witnessed the technique in person, it all made sense. Anyone would lose their Poise to that¡­ from the humiliation if not the impact! Sure enough, Bayu staggered in place and fell to his donkey knees. He lost his grip on DIAPHRAGM, and the massive bellows dropped to his side, bouncing uselessly against the tonguey floor. Poise-break! This was it. Time for Serac to put the finishing touches on a conquest that had been executed nearly to perfection. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] Another hit of self-damage ([127!]) brought Serac dangerously close to the bottom of her HP bar, but she knew from simple math that she¡¯d survive the hit. So, it was with a calm sense of certitude that she watched [Catharsis]¡¯s three-stage fireworks unfold. [293!], [492!], [983!] -> [1768!] Black flames waned into the Interstitium, taking with them every last trace of Bayu¡¯s chunky HP bar. As the Wayfarers had theorized, the critical multiplier had been enough to push [Catharsis]¡¯s already hefty damage over the top. A one-shot finisher for the ages¡ªone that had required 40 bullets and a painful kick in the chest to get to. And when Bayu the Unfettered Warden met his end¡ªfor all his menace, his epithets, and his jackassery¡ªhe faded into Souldust like all the rest. Even DIAPHRAGM faded with him, tethered as it¡¯d been to its Hellspawn wielder. After the dust settled, all that was left in its place was a wooden mask, with its laughing Buddha face now turned up toward the ceiling. ¡°Score!¡± Zacko cheered happily, then made his way over to VISAGE with bounding steps. Serac would¡¯ve joined him too¡ªif her curiosity hadn¡¯t been stolen away by Pathsight¡¯s overlay, which now positively exploded with new information. First came what could only be described as a message of congratulations, rather deflatingly matter-of-fact in tone: [GREATER ABERRANT SMITED]. Next came the influx of rewarded Karma, gratifyingly substantial despite having to be split with a second Wayfarer: [1740 ?]. This, combined with the [301 ?] Serac had lost on her previous attempt and the [1040 ?] she¡¯d accrued from ¡®dealing with¡¯ the Penitents, put her total Liminal Karma at a cool [3081 ?]. Then came a third message: [Waystation Privilege awarded. Current charge: 1]. This, while surprising, was easy enough to parse. Trippy had mentioned that Waystations were something a Wayfarer could ¡®install¡¯ at locations of her choice, much like how Zacko had dropped one inside the Damnatorium¡¯s throat. It followed then that this was Pathsight¡¯s way of telling her that she too could deploy a lotus flower of her own, likely as a reward for dealing the smiting blow to a dungeon boss. But the strangest messages¡ªand the ones that most piqued Serac¡¯s curiosity¡ªcame at the very end. A pair of them, in fact: [RAKSHASA Unique Trait unlocked: REALM BOON] [NARAKA Realm Boon unlocked: TRIBULATION] 17. Fresh Air 17. Fresh Air [Realm Boon: TRIBULATION] [Anchored Realm: NARAKA] [Boon Description: For every negative status effect on self, the Rakshasa receives a universal AV buff of 5%. Can stack up to six times.] *** As if Bayu¡¯s death had been the flick of a switch, the walls of his arena parted and began to move with a loud rumble. One side of the dome-like structure lifted off the floor as though turning on a hinge. Serac felt the changes to her environment immediately, first as a general improvement in air quality. New winds rushed into the arena, delivered not by a bellows but from the outside world, containing with them¡­ nothing of note. Nothing was good. Nothing was better than the stagnant halitosis inside the Damnatorium. By the time the dome had finished its rotation, however, Serac was already rapt with wonder at the second major transformation to her world. For the once saliva-thick ceilings had made way for open sky¡ªangry red, dotted with flickering stars, and stretching as far and wide as the eye could see. For some time, Serac stayed rooted to the spot where she¡¯d dealt her first smiting blow to a dungeon boss. She stood and watched the sky unfold before and above her. Then she kept watching as the sky¡­ became a permanent fixture in her world, unchanging and never again to be hidden from existence. She stayed rooted to the spot because she didn¡¯t know. She didn¡¯t know if she was allowed to take a step further. Whether all this had been some blood-addled fever dream of a girl that had strayed a little too far from her intended Path. Surely, she¡¯d wake up at any moment and find herself back inside her rib-caged and flesh-paved jail cell. Surely, if she dared to take another step, the Circlet would close around her forehead to remind her of her Penitent fate. That was when a second voice rang in her mind. It served as a timely reminder that she needed not¡ªcould not¡ªkeep her moments of self-doubt to herself. ¡°As much as I¡¯ve agreed to let you grow into the journey on your own time,¡± Trippy said, employing just the right amount of snark for the occasion, ¡°I still need to put my foot down when it comes to idle woolgathering. Come, cease your dallying and let us leave this wretched place behind. You now have a whole Realm to explore.¡± It seemed that, for all his haughty and domineering ways, Trippy too was learning how best to communicate with his proxy Wayfarer. On this occasion, appealing to Serac¡¯s innate attraction to the great outdoors proved just the right button to press. The Rakshasa fugitive¡ªno, just the Rakshasa, thanks very much¡ªlet out a shuddering, steadying sigh, as if to expel all the Damnatorium air that had become stagnant and halitotic within her own body. She then took her first step as a free soul. ¡­ Or she would¡¯ve, had she not caught sight of her fellow freesoul out of the corner of her eye. Zacko the Manusya too hadn¡¯t moved an inch from where he¡¯d retrieved his Erudite Instrument and was acting rather strangely, even by his standards. For even though he held his precious VISAGE in his hand, and even though his way out of a fugitive¡¯s life had opened before him, he paid no heed to either of those things. Instead, his eyes¡ªslightly creased and uncharacteristically morose¡ªwere turned inward, back the way they¡¯d come and toward the Damnatorium¡¯s throat. Or toward whatever lay deeper within the prison¡¯s intricate anatomy. Toward whatever had drawn the man here in the first place. ¡°Zacko?¡± Serac called out without much conviction, oddly unsure if she was even doing the right thing. ¡°You coming with, or what?¡± Zacko didn¡¯t answer right away, but he did turn his morose eyes in Serac¡¯s direction. He then looked back at the unseen object of his desire one last time before also letting out a sigh¡ªone that was a little more reluctant and quite a bit more tired than Serac¡¯s. ¡°Of course, Horn-girl,¡± he said with forced cheer, even as he fiddled with VISAGE to secure it against his waist. ¡°Let¡¯s get the hell out of here. And out of hell altogether, if we can help it.¡± Zacko¡¯s absent-minded relapse into calling Serac ¡®Horn-girl¡¯ hadn¡¯t escaped the latter¡¯s notice. But she decided to let this one slide, sensing that there was a time and a place. Besides, right now, she had much bigger fish to fry. Finally, after much ado, the Wayfarer pair climbed out of the Damnatorium and completed their prison break¡­ only to be met by more uneven terrain for them to climb. The exit had led out onto a steep hill, one deformed by patches of raised ¡®scar tissue¡¯ that served as a kind of sloping footpath. So, the Wayfarers climbed. They¡¯d already climbed this far; what was one staircase more? Serac, for her part, was starting to see and accept the pattern. There¡¯d be a lot more climbing yet before she and Trippy could reach their destination atop Mount Meru. As it turned out, this leg of the climb came with its own reward, one that very much justified the effort it¡¯d demanded. For the stairs of scar tissue eventually leveled off at the top of the hill, and up beyond that topmost step was¡ª ¡°Wow!¡± Serac exclaimed as soon as she took in the sight. ¡°Look at all that space!¡± It was a desert. And what a beautiful desert it was, at least in Serac¡¯s eyes! Mind-numbingly flat save for a few bulges here and there. An incomprehensible vastness of pink earth, framed by the red skies above and by boundless horizons everywhere else. Is this for real? I get to explore all this, of my own volition, with no one to prod me along or yank me back to my cell? Granted, she had yet to spot anything for her to explore. But even empty space was orders of magnitude more enticing a prospect than what she¡¯d left behind.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. All in due time. She was sure that the Six Realms of Mount Meru¡ªand even Naraka, its lowliest Realm¡ªheld plenty of secrets and adventures for a newly free and Karma-hungry Rakshasa to uncover. ¡°Before we go too far off the beaten path,¡± came the voice of reason and temperance, and perhaps the one reminder that Serac wasn¡¯t quite as free as she wanted to believe, ¡°might I suggest that you put your Waystation privilege to use? If you were to fall into mishap now, you¡¯d be sent straight back down the Damnatorium¡¯s throat, and I daresay that¡¯d be a rather inauspicious start to your life on the outside.¡± I think you might have a point there. As such, Serac signaled to get Zacko¡¯s attention, then pointed to the ground at her feet. The Manusya, still looking somewhat distracted and not-all-the-way-with-it, nevertheless gave a nod of approval. Installing a new Waystation was as easy as sitting down to meditate, using the tried-and-tested method from before. This time, a lotus bud appeared to phase out of Serac before unfurling itself onto the ground. The full-grown flower then swept itself through the Rakshasa¡¯s battle-weary body, thereby reconstituting her back to full health. It seemed that Waystation privilege also came with naming rights¡ªor at least the right to read the Waystation¡¯s name. Pathsight had already graced this particular location with the pleasant and not-at-all-gory moniker of [Laceration Gorge North]. For the next Ksana or two or more, Serac lost herself in meditation. She had [3081 ?] of Liminal Karma to play with, which once again equated to two additional Karmic Levels. She didn¡¯t hesitate to add more points to [Ambition], bringing the attribute to [19] while boosting an array of associated parameters ([HP 633 -> 694], [Cartridge 6|34 -> 6|39], [PHYSICAL Mitigation 13.1% -> 14.2%], [DEIFIC Mitigation 21.0% -> 22.2%]). That still left [904 ?] of un-ingrained Karma, just a couple hundred points off the next level-up requirement. Serac had no choice but to lug them around in their Liminal form for now. She¡¯d done this latest bit of leveling without consulting anyone¡¯s advice, and she was happy with the result. If there happened to be more ¡®correct¡¯ ways to go about it, she didn¡¯t want to know about them just yet. Right now, pumping HP and Cartridge as high as possible sounded plenty correct to her. With that out of the way, it was time to decide on next steps. After all, her six-shooter friend had just earlier expressed his disdain for dallying and woolgathering. Yet, funnily enough, it was Trippy himself who suddenly struck up a conversation, one of reflection rather than progression. ¡°Have you given any thought to this ¡®Unique Trait¡¯ of yours?¡± It took Serac a second to even realize what he was referring to. Oh, that thing. Something called ¡®Realm Boon¡¯, was it? No, can¡¯t say I have. Been too busy admiring the view. And believe it or not, I mean that sincerely. ¡°The name seems to imply that you¡¯ll receive a different ¡®boon¡¯ every time you step into a higher Realm. Naturally, it follows that said boon would be something conceptually representative of the Realm you currently occupy. [Tribulation], for instance, to embody punishment and atonement in hell.¡± Erm, something the matter, Trippy? You¡¯re saying that like you don¡¯t know for sure. ¡°That¡¯s because I don¡¯t. I won¡¯t beat around the bush, Serac Edin. It¡¯s exceedingly rare for Rakshasas such as yourself to make it out of Naraka at all, let alone make meaningful progress along the slopes of Mount Meru. As such, I¡¯ve had precious few dealings with Wayfarers of your kind, and indeed, this is the first I¡¯m learning of the associated Unique Trait.¡± Does that mean the other Wayfarer races have their own Unique Traits? Does Zacko have one for Manusyas? ¡­ Did you have one? Before, you know, your Unmooring? Trippy didn¡¯t answer immediately, which gave Serac the opportunity to feel bad about asking. As curious as she was, she also knew this to be a sensitive topic for the Unmoored soul in question. She didn¡¯t need to know if Trippy didn¡¯t want to share, and she was just about to communicate as much when¡ª ¡°Out of the frying pan and into the fire,¡± Zacko remarked wryly, sounding a little more like himself. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got company.¡± Serac snapped out of her meditative state and followed Zacko¡¯s gaze. The flat pink earth around them was still very pink but no longer flat, now carved up by numerous narrow ridges. These ridges were moving at speed, forming irregular lines that twisted and overlapped each other even as they all converged on the Wayfarers and their brand new Waystation. Then some of the ridges rose from the ground as their occupants poked their heads out. Or at least what passed for their heads. They were worm-like creatures, each of them about the length and girth of Serac¡¯s own torso, with segmented bodies and ¡®heads¡¯ that ended in a flat circular maw made up of rows upon rows of fine, razor-sharp teeth¡ªlike the mouth of a lamprey. As always, Pathsight provided the most direct clues as to the creatures¡¯ intent and disposition. Each of the lamprey heads was adorned with an HP bar as well as a label: [Flesh-fiend]. Definitely not friendly. And there were a lot of them, with more on the way. ¡°Nasty little critters, these,¡± Zacko explained, his casual tone not quite matching the frown on his face. It was clear that he saw these ¡®Flesh-fiends¡¯ as a serious threat, especially in these numbers. ¡°They¡¯re known to hang around these parts, waiting to feed on whatever necrotic tissue sloughs off with the Damnatorium¡¯s refuse. Never seen such a huge swarm of them, though. I guess they prefer living flesh to dead.¡± ¡°Yikes,¡± Serac echoed her companion¡¯s sentiments, even as she unholstered REVOLVER. ¡°Guess I didn¡¯t pick the best location for a Waystation.¡± ¡°Guess not,¡± Zacko agreed easily, ¡°but hey, at least this¡¯ll be a good bit of farming for us.¡± Farming? Serac didn¡¯t know what agriculture had to do with it, but now wasn¡¯t the time for more questions, pertinent or not. For she was facing down a veritable horde of Hellspawn critters, and she only had the 40¡ªcheck that, 45¡ªbullets to deal with them all. Welp, might as well start with one. She raised REVOLVER to eye level and chose her first target. Aim, lock, fi¡ª Krriiinnnnggggg¡­!! Serac lost her concentration as she winced in pain. But it soon didn¡¯t matter, for the strange high-pitched noise that had suddenly assailed her senses was accompanied by¡­ rain. Not just any rain, but rain of light. The sky over Laceration Gorge, moments ago so clear in its redness, erupted in blinding white¡ªlotus-white. Then this sudden intrusion of pure whiteness separated into myriad discrete beams that fell upon the desert as raindrops. Each of these raindrops found their marks with uncanny precision, spearing every last one of the Flesh-fiends, even the ones that were still burrowed underground. The first thing Serac did was pat herself all over, checking for any new holes on her person. But she quickly realized that the beams of light had been meant only for the Flesh-fiends, for both she and Zacko (who looked just as stunned as her, ruling out the possibility that he¡¯d been the one to call down the rain) were completely unharmed. The next thing, of course, was to look for the rainmaker. It didn¡¯t take long to spot them: a lone figure that shot down from the red-again sky at blinding speed before crash-landing amidst the swarm of dead or dying Flesh-fiends. Despite the dramatic nature of their arrival, Serac somehow knew not to be worried for the newcomer¡¯s safety. And though she couldn¡¯t yet get a clear view of them, obscured as they were by the veritable storm of fresh Souldust that rose up all around, she knew she could count on Pathsight to shed some light on the situation. And once Serac Edin saw what Pathsight had to say, even she¡ªas a complete novice at this Wayfaring business¡ªknew that this one was a doozy. [Designation: SUBLIMITY Herald of the Righteous Chains] [Wayfarer Race: DEVA] [Karmic Level: 185] [Liminal Karma: 318,499 ?] [DEIFIC Instrument: SCOURGE] 18. A Taste of the Sublime 18. A Taste of the Sublime [Designation: SCOURGE] [Instrument Class: DEIFIC] [Anchored Realm: DEVALEM (+5)] [Item Description: If thou shouldst lack purpose, let thy shackles teach thee the meaning of toil. If thou shouldst desire knowledge, let thy chains guide thee unto the ends of the earth. And if, after all this, thou shouldst still cling to the safe anchors of existence, let the scourge of the Soulless shrive thee of thyself.] *** The being was almost too beautiful to be real. They were clad from head to toe in radiant armor¡ªa lotus-white field streaked with gold and wrapped by a ghost-blue aura. The chestpiece featured innumerable engravings that together formed a roughly circular shape, which Serac immediately recognized as a ¡®mandala¡¯, with more than passing resemblance to the one found on REVOLVER¡¯s grip. From the Deva¡¯s back rose flowing mantles of golden light that gave them a winged appearance¡ªlike an angel, Serac found herself musing in awe. The Deva¡¯s face was obscured by their helmet, crested with feathers and veiled by a mesh of woven silk. Upon the forehead sat a large elliptical jewel that glinted faintly from within and appeared to watch its surroundings as though it were an eye. And now that the Souldust-storm had cleared, it became apparent that the Deva wasn¡¯t alone. For they sat astride the back of an enormous dog, one that easily cleared Zacko in height and dwarfed its own rider in size. Lean and rather wolf-like in appearance, its shimmering white fur poked out in tufts between the pieces of a golden canine armor. The dog too had a fancy name, one labeled by Pathsight as: [DEIFIC Steed: SKYHOWL the Prismatic Hound]. Yet, despite the Deva¡¯s exquisite features and their almost equally impressive pet, Serac¡¯s attention eventually settled on the plainest, ugliest object in the whole package. The Deific Instrument SCOURGE, much like its six-shooter cousin, was rather understated in design, with a cracked leather handle that was well-worn from use and five barbed lashes that were rusted with age. The Deva held the whip in their gauntleted right hand in a loose posture, letting the tendrils hang low to the ground. Despite the Deva showing no signs of wanting to use the thing, Serac took a subconscious step backwards, cowering under SCOURGE¡¯s imagined¡ªno, remembered¡ªmenace. Her heart pounded with the same fear that had once gripped her ghost. Her skin burned with the same pain that had left its marks lifetimes ago. The being that stood before her¡ªin the here and now¡ªwas too beautiful to be real and too fearsome to be anything but. And when the being called ¡®Sublimity¡¯ finally spoke, it took Serac a fraught moment to realize they¡¯d done so. Not only because she couldn¡¯t see the Deva¡¯s mouth move, but also because the voice itself gave no clues as to its location. It sounded at once far away and like it¡¯d risen from Serac¡¯s own throat. ¡°Greetings, young traveler.¡± Sublimity¡¯s register was neutral and their timbre mellow, still giving no clues as to their sex. ¡°I hope I didn¡¯t startle you too badly. I might¡¯ve left the fiends in your doubtless capable hands, were I not so eager for us to speak. I just thought that my method would be quicker.¡± No argument there, and Serac made no effort to put up one. She did note, however, that the Deva had referred to ¡®traveler¡¯, singular. They seemed to be addressing only one of her or Zacko, and she had the sneaking (and unpleasant) suspicion that it was her. ¡°A Rakshasa of few words, aren¡¯t you?¡± Sublimity continued after a short silence. ¡°No matter. It¡¯s understandable, given the abrupt nature of our meeting. If you won¡¯t speak for yourself, will you at least answer my questions? Starting with¡­ what is that?¡± The angel in radiant armor hadn¡¯t moved a single muscle. Yet, somehow, Serac¡¯s conscious thoughts immediately attuned to the six-shooter in her right hand. She glanced at the handgun, half-expecting Trippy to feed her lines. When no such assistance proved forthcoming, she had no choice but to speak her mind plainly. ¡°It¡¯s REVOLVER. My Deific Instrument. But¡­ you can see that on Pathsight, can¡¯t you?¡± She¡¯d thought her answer an innocent and sufficiently honest one. But what she felt next told her that the opinion wasn¡¯t shared by her interviewer. The sensation was twofold. First, there was a precipitous drop in the ambient temperature, from the sweltering heat that was typical of Naraka to a frigid chill that was anything but.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. This was followed by a headache, mild in its intensity but terrifying in its familiarity. A slight tightening of Serac¡¯s Circlet. The realization chilled her to the bone, far more effectively than the cooled air. ¡°These questions are of considerable import to me,¡± Sublimity spoke again, with unchanged mellowness and neutrality, ¡°so I¡¯d like you to extend the basic courtesy of answering them in earnest. I ask again, what is that in your hand?¡± ¡°What do you mean what?¡± Serac blurted, her voice rising along with her fear. ¡°What do you want to know exactly? That it¡¯s a gun that shoots bullets? That it¡¯s modeled after the Smith & Something or Other Triple Lock? I could read you the whole item description! What do you want from me? Ow!¡± This time, she knew she hadn¡¯t imagined it. The Penitent¡¯s Circlet closed around her forehead, sending with it a familiar wave of the most excruciating pain Serac had known here, there, or anywhere. She fell to her knees in a pathetic imitation of Poise-break, brought a hand up to her head as if she could claw out the Circlet¡¯s iron tendrils from her skull, and fought back the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. ¡°Hey! Easy there, sir¡­ madam?¡± Zacko interjected, his voice surprisingly close to Serac¡¯s ears. ¡°She¡¯s trying to answer you, as best she can. Maybe help her out a little? I haven¡¯t known this woman for long, but I can vouch for her being a straight shooter. Pun very much inten¡ª¡± Even in the midst of her own torture, Serac opened one watering eye to see what had caused Zacko to lose his words. Presently, the Manusya was crouched next to her, with one hand resting on her back and the other clutching at his own chest. His face was a frozen mask, carved not in wood but by the painful recollections of his own failings and regrets. The man had been saddened into silence, likely by the same dark magic that somehow held sway over a Penitent¡¯s Circlet. What the hell is this? Serac found herself screaming into the void. This thing is a Deva? A soul that once had so much Karma that it got to reincarnate in the most virtuous of the Virtuous Realms? What¡¯s virtuous about any of this? Make it make sense! ¡°I will ask a third time,¡± Sublimity went on in their perfectly even voice, ¡°and pray do not make me ask a fourth. What is the exact nature of REVOLVER, and how has it come into your possession? It is a Deific Instrument, is it not? How is it that it¡¯s capable of dealing Infernal damage and who knows what else besides? How is it that it was transmuted here in Naraka?¡± Is that what this was about? Why didn¡¯t you lead with that? Yet, even as righteous anger blunted her meek fears, Serac was also unsettled by a new realization. So, as a Narakite, I wasn¡¯t supposed to start with a ¡®Deific¡¯ Instrument? Why didn¡¯t Trippy tell me this? Why did Trippy¡ª And that, Serac now knew, had been the crux of the matter all along. The power that had come to her from nothing. The vehicle of her liberation from the lowest pits of hell. And her faceless savior was now the very sin that had called down divine retribution upon her unsuspecting head. She¡¯d known it was too good to be true¡­ ¡°It wants to know about me,¡± the savior in question finally joined the conversation, only to confirm what Serac already knew. ¡°REVOLVER is¡­ unique even among Instruments, in that it defies strict classification. It exists and operates outside the usual rules of Pathsight, and our irregular activities here must have been flagged by the oversight committee up in Devalem. I must admit¡­ I didn¡¯t expect this to happen quite so soon.¡± Oh, but you expected it eventually, did you? Just slipped your mind to warn me about it? And what the hell is this about an ¡®oversight committee¡¯? These Devas are starting to sound less like gods and more like bureaucrats! ¡°¡­ You think you jest, but I¡¯d argue that your characterization of Devas isn¡¯t too far off the truth. Putting that aside, what¡­ what should we do?¡± Of all the bizarre mishaps that had befallen Serac in the last several minutes, this somehow alarmed her the most. Trippy turning to her for advice? Did hell literally freeze over? (To be fair, it kind of did.) What do you mean what do we do? What¡¯s going to happen if I just come clean and tell Sublimity about you? Assuming they¡¯ll even believe me¡­ ¡°Perhaps¡­ confiscation? Forced decoupling, if such a thing is even possible? Or worse¡­¡± Worse? There¡¯s something worse than getting REVOLVER confiscated? Well, you tell me, Mr Voice. Are you ready to give up on our journey so easily? I mean, we were just getting into the swing of things. We beat our first dungeon boss. Broke out of prison. Had this whole new area to explore. Besides, you¡¯re the one that dumped this on me in the first¡ª ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected much, and yet, I find myself disappointed,¡± Sublimity interrupted the sidebar, ever in their even keel. Serac widened both eyes to stare at the speaker, fears rushing back in an instant to drown out the anger. She¡¯d taken too long to respond, and the Deva must¡¯ve taken her silence as another non-answer. They still remained perfectly still in their saddle as they added, ¡°It¡¯s not my preference, but you leave me with little recourse. Perhaps a show of force will remind you of your place and loosen your tongue.¡± ¡°Wait¡ª¡± A blinding flash of light. Accompanied by a ray of icy coldness that whizzed right past Serac¡¯s shoulder. She turned toward Zacko, only to watch in horror as his entire HP bar disappeared at once. The man¡¯s face was still frozen in a despair only he knew, but even that faded into thin air along with the rest of his disintegrating body. ¡°Wait!¡± Serac shouted, swiveling to face Sublimity. ¡°I can explain!¡± Too late. For she now saw that the source of the deadly magic hadn¡¯t been the Deva themselves, but rather their Deific Steed. Skyhowl the Prismatic Hound had already parted its lupine jaws, revealing the pulsing cluster of lotus-white energy therein. Beam of light. Icy coldness the likes of which a native Narakite couldn¡¯t even comprehend. The powerful spell¡ªcast by a dog, no less¡ªpassed through Serac¡¯s body in less than the span of a Ksana, but not before disrupting and rearranging every atom inside it. [1440!] The last thing Serac held in her eyes as she faded was the image of Sublimity¡ªthat devil in radiant armor¡ªleaning forward in their saddle to pat Skyhowl under the chin. The sight was, in all honesty, kind of cute. And Serac wished dearly to never see it again. 19. Scourge 19. Scourge When Serac came to, sitting cross-legged next to her lotus flower, she¡¯d half-hoped that Sublimity would be gone by then, taking her 900-odd Liminal Karma with them if need be. Perhaps they¡¯d lost interest, or they might be off doing whatever else kept someone on Pathsight¡¯s oversight committee busy. No such luck. The Deva and their Deific Steed remained in the exact same spot, radiant in their armors and watching serenely as Serac and Zacko reconstituted at [Laceration Gorge North]. The first thing Serac did was look to Zacko with a grimace that she hoped could pass for apology. This whole ordeal did feel like it¡¯d been meant only for her, and she wasn¡¯t without remorse that her traveling companion had been dragged into it. The Manusya, for his part, responded with a wordless frown and a slight tilt of the chin in Sublimity¡¯s direction, as if to say: please find a way to get this over with. And Serac, by any stretch of the imagination, should¡¯ve liked nothing more than to oblige. There was a small problem with that, however. For she¡¯d just died to this Deva and their overwhelming ¡®show of force¡¯, and she¡ªher dumb, reckless self¡ªhad somehow grown bolder for the experience. Serac stood and approached Sublimity and their giant light-breathing dog, absent hesitation. She expected to be tortured or smited again at any moment, yet she walked in a straight line, brimming with a sense of conviction that was entirely unearned. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± It was Trippy who interjected first, audibly bereft of his usual stoicism. I¡¯m going to tell this bureaucrat exactly what I think about their idea of oversight. ¡°Don¡¯t be rash, Serac Edin! You¡¯ve seen how powerful they are. How neither you nor the Manusya were any match even for their dog. Perhaps they¡¯ll listen to reason if you just¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s quite close enough, Rakshasa.¡± Serac winced and stopped in her tracks, still several yards away from Skyhowl¡¯s gold-strapped muzzle. That headache had started up again, this time at a low hum¡ªa warning. The pain was still bad enough to make her eyes water and her hand reach subconsciously for her forehead. She then did something that amazed herself. She sucked in a deep breath¡ªall that Naraka goodness¡ªthen took one more step. Then another. Then a third one until she was within an arm¡¯s reach of the giant dog, ready to pat its chin if she dared. Every step came with a discernible worsening of the headache, as if every step had been a turn in a dial. By the time she finally came to a stop, she was shuddering all over and breathing hard through gritted teeth. Her eyes were so blurry from tears that she barely managed to see Sublimity recoil in their saddle, backing away and bristling as though Serac¡¯s proximity had offended their senses. Or perhaps their sensibilities. And because Serac did catch sight of that very non-neutral reaction, she thought she finally saw the person behind the radiant armor and silk-woven veil. She knew Sublimity¡¯s type. If not from hell, then at least from a previous life. The type that wanted to act like they were in perfect control all the time, only to lose their composure at the slightest deviation from the script¡ªlike, for example, a lowly Rakshasa getting all the way up in their business. ¡°What¡¯s¡­ the matter?¡± Serac managed to choke out through what she meant to be a big ol¡¯ grin. ¡°Afraid¡­ of a little¡­ eye contact?¡± At this, something flashed behind a veil of woven silk¡ªsomething that might¡¯ve even passed for Sublimity¡¯s eyes. But the moment was brief, and the Deva¡¯s ¡®face¡¯ became an expressionless mask just as abruptly as they straightened in their seat. At the same time, Serac¡¯s headache subsided. The Rakshasa felt herself relax, gradually and still with plenty of difficulty. She kept her teary gaze fixed on where Sublimity¡¯s eyes should¡¯ve been, updating her appraisal of the Deva in real time. So, you¡¯ve got some real pride in you, after all. Glad you could see that this ¡®show of force¡¯ only made you seem smaller. To be sure, she was glad, and massively relieved to boot. Because, honestly, she didn¡¯t know for how much longer she could¡¯ve withstood the pain. ¡°You¡¯ve got nerve, Rakshasa, I¡¯ll give you that¡ªthough it might simply be foolishness,¡± Sublimity spoke again, their tone unchanged, ¡°Regardless, I still must carry out my business. Even if you truly know nothing of REVOLVER¡¯s provenance, as you so claim, the fact remains that it¡¯s a high-risk anomaly that requires careful study and supervised integration into Pathsight. Naturally, I can¡¯t forcibly reverse its transmutation nor its pairing to you, but I can and will ask you to relinquish it voluntarily. And you can start that process by handing it over.¡± Sublimity made no move to reach for REVOLVER, nor did they proffer their own hand to facilitate the transaction. The expectation, clearly, was for Serac to remove the six-shooter from her own person. Serac, for her part, also declined to move, opting instead to think through the implications of the Deva¡¯s words. Well, there we have the answer to Trippy¡¯s question. REVOLVER and I can¡¯t be decoupled by an outside force. So, naturally, the next thing I¡¯d wanna know is¡ª ¡°What if I refuse?¡± A pause. Sublimity remained motionless, but something about the air shifted again. Serac found herself breaking out in goosebumps.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°You think you have a choice in the matter?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do I?¡± ¡°¡­ You saw what Skyhowl did to you. You think I¡¯d just let you walk away and carry on as you were?¡± ¡°No, I didn¡¯t think that. But I also don¡¯t think you¡¯d want to spend all your time here in Naraka, just to keep tabs on little old me. Because I do intend to keep going, you know. No matter how many times you try to stop me. Because I¡¯ve had a taste of freedom, and it really was just that: a taste. Now I want the whole thing, and I won¡¯t stop until I get it.¡± ¡°Serac!¡± She ignored Trippy. Ignored the jangling of her own nerves. She had no earthly idea where her spiel had come from, but once it was out, it sounded like the most honest thing she¡¯d ever said. Was this the real Serac Edin, coming out of hibernation after gods knew how many years spent in the meanest prison in hell? Sublimity, for their part, appeared unmoved. ¡°Do you mean to threaten me, Rakshasa? Threaten me with¡­ more work?¡± ¡°Not a threat. I¡¯m giving you a choice. Leave me alone and go do your other Deva things in peace. Or don¡¯t, and I¡¯ll make your life a living hell.¡± ¡°Oh gods¡­¡± Another pause. One that was accompanied by¡­ a rise in temperature. Then the Deva moved again, this time to throw its head back in apparent (yet silent) laughter. ¡°I must say, it¡¯s been an age or two since I¡¯ve been quite this amused by a soul¡¯s antics. But the jest has gone on long enough. If it¡¯s a choice you want, Rakshasa, then it¡¯s a choice you shall make.¡± Sublimity straightened themselves, any hint of ¡®amusement¡¯ vanished in an instant. ¡°Part with REVOLVER willingly, and you will have your freedom. Freedom to roam hell¡¯s wastelands to your heart¡¯s content, as befits a creature of your station. Refuse¡­ and you can keep your Instrument, as is your wish. But if you so choose, I will take it upon myself to shrive you of your self, so your Wayfaring days will be as good as at an end.¡± Serac¡¯s unexpected burst of bravery hadn¡¯t made her any more proficient in Deva-speak. Sublimity¡¯s words sounded ominous enough to her untrained ears, but she couldn¡¯t quite picture the business end of the ultimatum on offer. What she did pick up on, and rather emphatically at that, was that there¡¯d been a discernible space between ¡®your¡¯ and ¡®self¡¯¡ªand this space made all the difference. ¡°Sublimity means to subject you to their SCOURGE,¡± Trippy dropped more knowledge, in what was perhaps his grimmest turn yet as a built-in glossary. ¡°They mean to invoke ¡®the Mark of the Soulless¡¯ and thereby strip you of what it means to be you. Every memory, every emotion, every impetus to realize your desires, and every will to fight for what¡¯s yours. It¡¯s a fate worse than death because, in a very real sense, it¡¯s the only way a soul can die. Truly and irreversibly.¡± Yeah, I won¡¯t lie, that does sound absolutely godawful. Really makes you wonder why anyone holds these Devas in such high regard. ¡°Will you reconsider, then? Acquiesce to Sublimity just this once, then once the danger¡¯s passed, we can try to find a new way to move forward from there.¡± A ¡®new way¡¯? What does that even mean? If I give up REVOLVER, isn¡¯t that the same thing as giving you up? I mean, you said yourself that you were my predecessor of sorts. ¡°I did, and I was. But¡­ there¡¯s something else. I haven¡¯t been entirely truthful about my¡ª¡± ¡°Really, Rakshasa,¡± Sublimity cut in then, oblivious to the furious debate going on inside Serac¡¯s head, ¡°I¡¯ve been far more patient with you than was warranted, and I¡¯m no longer in the mood to tolerate your insolence. Give your answer, right this Ksana. Otherwise, I will take your silence as refusal and act accordingly.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no time. Answer them, Serac Edin! Give them what they want, so you may save your self!¡± By any stretch of the imagination, Serac should¡¯ve listened to the two wisest souls here¡ªthe two souls that had been to the top of the world and back, and therefore knew the shape of it. She shouldn¡¯t even need to hesitate. Listen to Trippy. Give in to a force much greater than her. Give up on her freest and truest self. Because that was what this meant. Because she¡¯d seen the shape of her Hanging Fruit and what it meant to her. Because to back down now¡ªeven if it was her only pragmatic and realistic option¡ªwould be to lose her self anyhow. ¡°No,¡± she found herself saying, barely above a whisper. ¡°No?¡± ¡°No.¡± Louder. Firmer. Her heart pounded ceaselessly, and her nerves jangled like the chains on a Jailer¡¯s belt, but she was committed now. Committed to her choice¡ªher own. Looking down at Serac from the saddle on a giant armored dog, Sublimity moved again. They raised a gauntleted right hand, and along with it, the rusted tendrils of a five-lashed whip rose from the ground. The lashes now dangled inches from Serac¡¯s face, close enough for her to catch a whiff of Kalpas-old despair. ¡°Final chance, Rakshasa. Hand over your REVOLVER now, or forever accept the Mark of the Soulless.¡± A brief pause. One that served only to raise the temperature within Serac¡¯s soul. She was committed. She was ready to go down swinging, come what may. ¡°N¡ª¡± ¡°No!¡± Trippy¡¯s voice erupted inside Serac¡¯s head, as it always did. Yet, somehow, it¡¯d also reached out beyond it¡ªinto the physical world¡ªas a klaxon that echoed across the desert of [Laceration Gorge North]. The voice was accompanied by a transformation. Solid into liquid into vapor into soul. Serac, by instinct, looked first to the six-shooter in her hand, but REVOLVER itself remained inert. No, something else was doing the transforming. Something inside of her. Something deeply embedded and fused with her anatomy, for as long and as much as she could remember of her own existence. It was her Penitent¡¯s Circlet. Or was. For the impossible had happened. The fine iron tendrils of the Penitent¡¯s Circlet loosened, unsheathing themselves from Serac¡¯s bone, skin, and flesh¡ªbefore projecting into the air above her head as a cloud of Souldust, one that approximated the size and shape of a male Rakshasa. ¡°Steady, Serac Edin. And hear me, O venerable Herald,¡± Trippy¡¯s familiar voice echoed somewhere just beyond the edges of Serac¡¯s consciousness. ¡°I would propose¡­ an alternate solution that may be of your interest.¡± 20. The Unmoored 20. The Unmoored [SCOURGE spell: THE SHRIVING] [MP cost: 66] [Spell Description: Use the power invested in the Herald of the Righteous Chains to brand a target soul with the Mark of the Soulless. Inflict exactly 66 points of Deific damage (cannot be mitigated, buffed, or multiplied). The target soul is then shriven of their self, bringing them one step closer to Nirvana.] *** It was immediately clear that Trippy in his pseudo-corporeal form¡ªbecause it was Trippy, right? Couldn¡¯t be anyone or anything else¡ªdefied categorization by any existing ¡®system¡¯. Pathsight did give it a try, labeling the cloud of Souldust as: [???], along with an HP bar that might as well have been a red blemish upon a field of glowing particles. ¡°Tri¡ªTrippy?¡± The gig was up. Serac could no longer maintain her Wayfarer-Instrument confidentiality, because the Instrument itself had up and revealed itself to the outside world. Only¡­ that wasn¡¯t the right way to characterize what had happened. Up until now, Serac had assumed that the Unmoored soul that she¡¯d taken to calling Trippy had ¡®possessed¡¯ the six-shooter vessel that was REVOLVER. Yet, just now, as Trippy manifested his visible Souldust form, he¡¯d clearly ¡®come out¡¯ of her Penitent¡¯s Circlet. There was no denying it. No alternate possibility. The fact that her Circlet and all its pesky tendrils were gone without a trace was proof enough of that. Serac holstered REVOLVER and used her freed-up hand to palpate her forehead. It was smooth all the way through, save for the two roots of her horns. No blood, no scars, not even so much as a hint of the constant pressure that used to keep her up at night. It was as if the Circlet had never been there at all. ¡°Heh¡­¡± A weak, almost hesitant chuckle escaped, containing and releasing with it the years she¡¯d spent under the trinket¡¯s heel. What was more, she almost felt silly for obsessing over this because, right now, her liberation from her Penitent¡¯s Circlet was very nearly the least crazy thing about the whole situation. For as soon as Trippy manifested himself, several things happened all at once. Skyhowl the Prismatic Hound tensed and leaned back on its hindlegs, barking out a warning that sounded¡­ surprisingly dog-like. Sublimity reacted by putting a placating hand on the scruff of the dog¡¯s neck, all while they themselves raised SCOURGE high in the air, as if to ward off Trippy¡¯s very presence. Even Zacko let out a low whistle and backed off a step, no doubt wondering just what in hell he¡¯d signed himself up for. But the craziest part of it all was definitely Trippy himself. Putting aside the fact that he¡¯d somehow willed a hologram of himself into being, just who could¡¯ve foreseen that ¡®himself¡¯ was a Rakshasa? The hologram didn¡¯t boast the highest fidelity, but a Rakshasa¡¯s characteristic features were nevertheless unmistakable: short and slim in stature, cinnabar skin, and a full set of sharp onyx claws to go along with a proud pair of horns. Serac reflected on the brief yet dense history of her conversations with Trippy. Manusyas usually don¡¯t require such reminders, but you never know with you Rakshasas. It¡¯s been an age since I¡¯ve worked so closely with anyone of your background. I¡¯ve had precious few dealings with Wayfarers of your kind. Through it all, he¡¯d always given her the impression that he was someone from a very different walk of life than hers¡ªat the very least, someone from a higher Realm. How was it that they could share the same lowly beginnings as hell bumpkins then end up with such wildly divergent worldviews? She already knew that she knew so little about Trippy¡ªher liberator, her mentor, her voice from nowhere. The craziness unfolding before her now only highlighted that she knew even less than she¡¯d imagined. And she was suddenly gripped by the fear that she¡¯d never get the chance to learn more. ¡°Before you make demands of me¡­ spirit,¡± Sublimity was the first to address the hologram directly, ¡°I should think it¡¯s only customary to introduce yourself first.¡± For a moment, the already hazy edges of the hologram oscillated as uneven waves. Hesitation. Uncertainty. Consternation. Plain as day. It¡¯d be almost funny if it weren¡¯t so unbelievable. Now that Trippy was outside of Serac¡¯s head, she could read him like a book. ¡°Forgive me, O Herald. I do not mean to obfuscate, nor to offend, but I¡­ I truly do not remember my own name. If it should please you, however, my¡­ companion here calls me ¡®Trippy¡¯, and that serves me well enough in my current state.¡± At this, Serac felt a sudden rush of warmth. It was such a little thing. Just a silly nickname between friends. And yet¡ª ¡°And pray tell, what is your current state? As far as I can tell, you bear the appearance of a Rakshasa, yet you clearly do not belong to this Realm¡ªnor perhaps to any of the other Five.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m Unmoored.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Serac followed the exchange with a deepening frown. Beside her, Zacko too looked more perplexed than ever. Sublimity, for their part, did not shift from their defensive posture, but the jewel upon their helmet flashed as if in understanding. ¡°Could it be?¡± For the first time, Sublimity¡¯s even voice took on a new note¡ªa hint of awe. ¡°The Abiding Ones spoke of such a thing, but I¡¯d always assumed it to be the idle fancies of failing minds. Pray tell then, Unmoored Rakshasa, just how did you come to find yourself in such an unfortunate non-state? If I¡¯m to take the Abiding Ones at their word, this must¡¯ve happened, what, at least several Kalpas ago?¡± Zacko let out another low whistle. Serac¡¯s newly unconstricted head swam with concepts that were impossible to wrap her mind around. Souls often used the word ¡®Kalpa¡¯ in a purely metaphorical sense to mean an inconceivably lengthy stretch of time. It felt, therefore, inconceivable that here was a soul who was actually Kalpas old. And the hologram of this soul, even in his Kalpas-old wisdom, jumped and flickered in his most blatant display of uncertainty yet. In the end, however, Trippy managed to regain a semblance of stillness before he gave his answer. ¡°In my previous existence, I was one of the entities responsible for causing the Upheaval.¡± This one didn¡¯t even get a chance to rattle around in Serac¡¯s head, because it went straight over it. ¡®Upheaval¡¯ was a word she knew and might¡¯ve even used on occasion, but something told her that Trippy¡¯s version of it carried a deeper meaning she wasn¡¯t privy to. Zacko¡¯s utter lack of reaction told her that the Manusya too was none the wiser. Which made Sublimity¡¯s reaction all the starker in comparison. For the Deva in radiant armor suddenly and violently rocked in their saddle, all while letting out a booming laugh that rang harshly against Serac¡¯s ears. It was by far the Deva¡¯s biggest show of emotion yet, and even their own dog cowered under the intensity, with downturned ears and a pitiful whimper to boot. Serac gaped, stupefied, even as Trippy¡¯s hologram waited patiently, with his outlines showing nary a disturbance. ¡°Oh, this is good,¡± Sublimity spoke again, even before their laughter had subsided. ¡°This is frankly marvelous. In fact, I don¡¯t know how this day can get any better. Say no more, you crazy Unmoored bastard. I see the way of things, now, and¡­ yes, I agree. I do much prefer this ¡®alternate solution¡¯ of yours.¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡± Serac blurted, no longer able to watch on as understanding slipped further and further away. ¡°No, do say more! Keep saying more until I actually know what the hell is going on!¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad that we have an understanding,¡± Trippy pressed on, ignoring Serac. ¡°And I take it this means you will¡ª?¡± ¡°I will let your pet keep her toy. In fact, I¡¯ll do you one better by letting her keep you too. So you may yet reap the fruits of your own folly. Only, of course, I can¡¯t let you keep your self. You understand.¡± ¡°What? No, I don¡¯t understand. Explain!¡± ¡°I do understand. Thank you, O venerable Herald. I¡¯m¡­ in your debt.¡± Sublimity audibly and visibly snorted. Serac couldn¡¯t for the life of her see what was so funny. ¡°No! Trippy, what did you just agree to? What are they doing to you? What¡ª¡± Indifferent to a Rakshasa¡¯s fervent protests, Sublimity raised their Deific Instrument once more. This time, they unreservedly radiated their intent to use it, except¡­. SCOURGE¡¯s five lashes were no longer meant for Serac. ¡°Serac Edin, listen to me one last time,¡± Trippy¡¯s hologram twisted in space, his blurry face and impressive horns pointing in Serac¡¯s direction. ¡°I thought I¡¯d have more time to impart to you what I know and remember, and for that miscalculation on my part, I apologize. But I won¡¯t apologize for choosing you to share my journey. For it¡¯s still very much that: our journey¡ªyours and mine¡ªto reach the peak of Mount Meru, and I still have faith that you¡¯ll see it through. To that end, Serac, allow me to leave you with one last thought. May your Path never lead you astray for long.¡± Before Serac could formulate a reply, SCOURGE¡¯s five lashes let out a resounding crack as they whipped through what remained of Trippy. [THE SHRIVING] The hologram lost its shape¡­ and never got it back again. The now scattered cloud of Souldust that had been Trippy hovered in place for a fleeting Ksana. Then it dissipated completely, resorbed into the Interstitium. Serac stood rooted to the spot, stunned into silence. What¡­ what just happened? Did Trippy¡­ die? But, for the first time since she¡¯d been Pulverized deep within the bowels of the Damnatorium, there was no one to listen in on her private thoughts, nor to offer their snarky advice. Across from her, Sublimity¡ªHerald of the Righteous Chains¡ªhad already straightened in their saddle, assuming the same neutral posture with which they¡¯d barged into Serac¡¯s life, unannounced and uninvited. And it was with this perfect calm and controlled authority that they and their Deific Steed took to the air again, without so much as a syllable of goodbye. Serac craned her neck absent-mindedly, the better to track Sublimity¡¯s exit. But the Deva was already gone, leaving only Naraka¡¯s ever-red sky in their wake. For the next¡ªshe didn¡¯t know how long; she¡¯d lost track of time¡ªSerac simply and silently stared at the sky. At this wide open world that was now hers to explore to her heart¡¯s content. A world ruled by powerful bureaucrats and their overwhelming cruelty. A world that yet hid so many secrets her lowly self hadn¡¯t been privy to. A world¡­ absent of a sentient six-shooter that had been her liberator, her mentor, and her friend in the short time they¡¯d known each other. Only¡­ that also wasn¡¯t the right way to characterize what had happened. For she still had that six-shooter in her possession, securely holstered upon her Wayfarer¡¯s belt. And that sentient friend of hers¡ªthat voice from nowhere¡ªwhere had he come from? How did he know to choose her of all the souls in the Six Realms, after allegedly literal Kalpas of waiting for the right¡ª ¡°Deific transmutation¡­ already completed. Instrument¡­ already designated as: REVOLVER. Candidate identified. Initiate¡ªcorrection¡ªpairing already completed.¡± Slowly, as if her mind was wading through molasses, Serac Edin attuned herself to the reality of a new transformation. A voice from nowhere. One that now Anchored itself, firmly and irreversibly, unto the invisible yet unbreakable tethers between her and her six-shooter. ¡°Greetings, Wayfarer. I am your Special Guidance Protocol, designation: TRIPPY. How may I be of your service?¡± 21. Freesouls 21. Freesouls Serac Edin rumbled through the pink desert beyond [Laceration Gorge North], not knowing where she was headed. She knew only that she had to keep moving, because to stay still would be to reckon with her own wretched and unworthy self. ¡°Hey.¡± She kept herself moving. Even as a stray Flesh-fiend jumped out of the pink earth at her feet. It tried to swallow her trailing leg within its lamprey mouth, but she kicked it away before unloading four unimbued bullets into its worm-like frame. [444!] points of total damage. Solid into Souldust. [120 ?] points of fresh Karma. Great. Wonderful. Did it really mean anything, though? ¡°Hey, Serac? Will you stop for a second so we can hash this out?¡± Three more Fiends, coming at her as a pack. Serac shot the rightmost one twice, whittling down its HP by half. She then dodge-rolled out of a lunging attack before jogging away to give herself the time and space to reload. She rested a beat to recover some Stamina before hitting the leftmost (and therefore yet undamaged) Fiend with [Catharsis]. She didn¡¯t wait to see the outcome before finishing off the first target with two more unimbued shots. By then, Zacko had already dealt with the remaining Fiend with a well-placed [Cestus]. Three enemies dealt with in quick succession, with the smiting of two of them fully credited to herself. It was the kind of ruthless efficiency that had eluded her up to now, and she didn¡¯t stop to wonder why the departure of her Wayfaring mentor had brought it out. What was the point of wondering? What was the point of understanding anything? The world and its inhabitants moved around her with no rhyme nor reason¡ªor if they had any, they didn¡¯t feel the need to clue her in on any of it. ¡°Hey! Sweetcheeks!¡± Serac rounded on Zacko in an instant, REVOLVER¡¯s barrel pointed straight at his too-sallow face. ¡°I thought I warned you,¡± she snarled in a low voice, ¡°never to call me that again.¡± ¡°Oh, good,¡± the Manusya said breezily, even as he waved the hands he¡¯d raised in mock surrender, ¡°there¡¯s still something in there, after all. For a minute there, I thought you¡¯d been shriven even without the help of a Deva¡¯s whip.¡± Serac glared at Zacko, more annoyed than angry. After only a second or two, however, she failed to see the point of even this. So, she reholstered REVOLVER and walked on without another word¡ªthough at a slightly slower pace than prior to the interruption. ¡°If you won¡¯t stop¡±¡ªZacko didn¡¯t stop¡ª¡°then I¡¯m just gonna talk at you, and you can talk back to me or not, your choice. First of all, really nice job with the Fiends back there. You¡¯ve really skilled up since we first met, and that¡¯s different from ¡®leveling¡¯ up, mind you. Almost makes me think you don¡¯t really need my help anymore.¡± ¡°Then why are you still following me?¡± ¡°Hah! That didn¡¯t take long at all! I know how to push your buttons, Serac, and don¡¯t you forget it. And that¡¯s exactly the second thing I wanted to talk to you about. About making this partnership thing official, you know? I think we work well together, and I for one would like to see how far we can go as a team.¡± Partnership. There was that word again. One of the words Serac hated the most at the moment, right alongside other classics such as together and team. The worst part was that she couldn¡¯t even understand why she was so upset. She¡¯d known Trippy for a matter of literal hours. A drop in the bucket compared to the years she¡¯d spent alone as an inmate of the Damnatorium. They hadn¡¯t even been particularly pleasant hours either, with most of them spent tolerating her mentor¡¯s snark or cowering under the control he had over her Circlet. Not that he ever actually exercised that control. I guess that¡¯s one good thing I can say about him. ¡°You¡¯ve gone quiet again, so I¡¯ma keep prattling on, if that¡¯s alright with you,¡± Zacko cut in, his breaths slightly uneven from matching Serac¡¯s brisk pace. ¡°We can circle back to the partnership thing. Let me move onto the third topic I had in mind, which is this fellow you called Trippy. And what I think about Trippy is that¡­ this isn¡¯t about Trippy at all.¡± Serac stopped dead in her tracks, causing Zacko to skid to a halt. ¡°What isn¡¯t about Trippy exactly?¡± ¡°Your whole¡­¡± Zacko gestured vaguely with his hands before mouthing a phrase that appeared to rhyme with ¡®sissy hit¡¯. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re upset about Trippy the soul, but more about what his loss represents.¡± ¡°Oh? What, you think you know me now? After sharing a couple of Waystations and a measly boss fight? And just what makes you think this isn¡¯t about Trippy? I mean, did you hear his parting words to me? May your Path never lead you astray for long? After all that drama and nonsense, he couldn¡¯t think to leave me with anything more than empty platitudes? Something other than what you¡¯d find on a fucking greeting card?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Hello. Did you ask for me, Wayfarer?¡± ¡°What? No! This isn¡¯t about you!¡± At this ¡®private¡¯ exchange, Zacko¡¯s irreverent smile only widened, and in turn, Serac¡¯s jaw-socking impulse flared. ¡°Ah, but you see, I don¡¯t necessarily agree that those words were as empty as you claim,¡± the Manusya suggested. ¡°But that¡¯s also beside the point. You say I shouldn¡¯t act like I know you after such a brief time together, but¡­ we¡¯re both people, aren¡¯t we? And I like to think I know people. Especially someone who wears her heart on her sleeves like you.¡± ¡°Oh, wonderful,¡± Serac spat, letting the naked distaste in her own words give her a jolt of bitter satisfaction. ¡°Real happy for you, Zacko. Good on you with the whole ¡®knowing people¡¯ thing. A Manusya like you, I¡¯m sure you had tons of friends to share your afterlife with. What is Manesfera like? Not like this hellhole, I¡¯ll bet¡±¡ªshe gestured toward the Fiend-infested desert that stretched all around, which had seemed so inviting only minutes ago¡ª¡°and don¡¯t think I forgot how you introduced yourself. Absolute worst first impression imaginable, but I guess that¡¯s par for the course if you hail from a Realm where the women flow like wine.¡± ¡°Manesfera: the first and lowest of the three Virtuous Realms, predominantly populated by the race Manusya. In the current Kalpa, the Manusyas are best known for their technological advancements and complex societal structures, best exhibited by¡ª¡± ¡°Shut up! No one asked you!¡± Even as Serac yelled at (and immediately felt bad for) this decidedly non-Trippy-like version of Trippy, she noticed the change that came over her Manusya companion. For a shadow had crossed Zacko¡¯s face at the mention of ¡®women and wine¡¯, before he quickly composed himself into his usual nonchalance. ¡°You sort of have the gist of it, Serac,¡± he said, somewhat quieter than was typical for him. ¡°I did spend my pre-Wayfaring days among¡­ what one might call a large ¡®family¡¯. I met and got to know all kinds of people, including people like you.¡± Serac scoffed. ¡°Somehow, I doubt that very much. I mean, just the fact that you called it a ¡®family¡¯¡­ Did anyone in this big family of yours spend her entire existence being prodded from one torture device to another? With no one to talk to other than her own torturer?¡± ¡°See? There it is again. The fact you even tried to be friends with your Jailer tells me everything I need to¡ª¡± ¡°But you don¡¯t know me!¡± Serac shouted, surprising herself with her sudden uptick in decibels. ¡°So don¡¯t pretend you do! What do you gain from partnering with me, anyway? You have more levels than me. You¡¯re more skilled than me. You¡¯re perfectly capable of looking after yourself. How do I know you won¡¯t up and betray me to suit your needs? Or worse, abandon me when you no longer¡ª¡± Serac clammed up and looked away, refusing to meet Zacko¡¯s gaze, as much as she despised finishing her sentence. Zacko wouldn¡¯t let her off the hook, however. He shuffled over to a new vantage point and even deigned to slouch down, thus bringing himself eye-level with her. ¡°You said you dreamed of ¡®home¡¯ when you were inside the Hanging Fruit.¡± Despite herself, Serac looked up to meet Zacko¡¯s eyes. She wasn¡¯t too surprised to see they¡¯d taken on a kind of pall¡ªthe same despair that had held the Manusya spellbound during the earlier exchange with Sublimity. But no. Not quite the same. For his eyes also showed a sheen of¡ªif not quite determination, then at least desperation¡ªone that managed to shine through the cracks within a pall of despair. ¡°I think this is what it all leads back to, isn¡¯t it?¡± he said, voice quieter and clearer than ever. ¡°The whole reason we became Wayfarers. The rhyme that explains why we, out of thousands upon thousands of souls, managed to transmute the Instruments in our hands. We¡¯re all trying to claw back something we lost. You, me, Trippy¡­ hell, maybe even that Sublimity asshole.¡± ¡°You lost something too?¡± Serac asked in a sheepish mumble, even though she thought she already knew the answer. ¡°Is that what you saw in the Hanging Fruit? Is that why you kept going back there, even at the risk of becoming a Penitent yourself?¡± Zacko nodded grimly after a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°You know me, Serac, so don¡¯t pretend you don¡¯t. I¡¯m ashamed to say that losing VISAGE to that fucking donkey was the wake-up call I needed. A reminder that the only way I can get back what I lost is by becoming more powerful than the assholes who took it from me in the first place. And I can¡¯t do that without my Instrument. I could do it without a Wayfaring partner, but¡­ let¡¯s just say, I¡¯ve seen enough of the world to know the Path can be a bit lonely without someone pestering me with their bullshit.¡± ¡°Someone calling you out on your bullshit, you mean.¡± ¡°That too.¡± Still, Serac hesitated. She recalled her own brief tryst with the Hanging Fruit. Of the lush mountain she¡¯d once called home in another life. Of the friends and family who¡¯d shared that home¡ªfriends who¡¯d never betray her and family who¡¯d never abandon her. Was Zacko right? Was that what she¡¯d lost and had been trying to claw back throughout her lonely existence? What she¡¯d thought she¡¯d found in Trippy, then promptly lost again after a matter of hours? Was it the same wind that stoked the flames of her rebellion? ¡°If I may offer my two ?, Wayfarer, I believe the Manusya is being sincere with his bullshit.¡± Serac snorted despite herself, then managed to hold back for only a beat before she burst out laughing in earnest. A proper laugh¡ªthe first in what felt like (literal) lifetimes¡ªholding her belly and emptying her lungs. Zacko, having missed out on Trippy¡¯s non-joke himself, stared nonplussed for a second. But he was, not for nothing, a Manusya social butterfly who hailed from a ¡®big family¡¯. He joined in with his own belly laugh, soon eclipsing even Serac¡¯s obnoxious loudness. When the laughter had died down¡ªand with her ¡®hissy fit¡¯ well and truly aired out of her system¡ªall that was left was for Serac to add a few new lines to a contract between Wayfaring partners. ¡°We broke out of prison together,¡± she reminded Zacko, ¡°and that means we¡¯re both freesouls, bound to no one and nothing other than our own ambitions. That means you don¡¯t get to decide my Path, and I don¡¯t get to decide yours. Which also means¡ª¡± ¡°Either one of us can break off the partnership at any time and without the other¡¯s say-so,¡± Zacko chimed in, then raised a quizzical eyebrow. ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Serac said with a serene nod. As much as she hated to admit it, Zacko had been right, at least partially. This hadn¡¯t been about Trippy, after all. But it also wasn¡¯t just about what she¡¯d lost. No, because she too had needed a wake-up call. A reminder that the whole world had opened up to her, and that meant she stood to gain a lot more than she could lose. ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± she said again, ¡°but as freesouls, we could also do with friends who can keep us on the straight and narrow when, you know, we get a bit carried away with our freedom. So, what say you, Mr Bullshit? Are we doing this or what? To see how far we can climb as a team?¡± Serac offered her right hand¡ªher Instrument hand. Zacko took it with his. ¡°You¡¯re on, Horn-girl. And may our Paths never lead us astray for long.¡± ¡°May our Paths never lead us astray for long.¡± 22. The Fibrinous Canyon 22. The Fibrinous Canyon On this occasion, their Path led them straight to a dead end. The desert, as it turned out, wasn¡¯t as vast and infinite as it¡¯d first appeared to Serac. For a line ran through its middle¡ªliterally¡ªin the form of a dried up Sanzu River and its Fibrinous floor that, according to Trippy Version 2 at least, blocked any attempt at further progress. Serac, exhausted and bereft of much of her earlier enthusiasm, looked over the edge of the Fibrinous Canyon with a sinking feeling. The cliffs here were dizzyingly high and their walls uniformly sheer, with nothing in the way of footholds to aid a Wayfarer¡¯s descent. Far below them stretched the canyon floor, the entire expanse of which glistened with a dense network of sickly-white ¡®webs¡¯. ¡°What you see here is Fibrin,¡± Trippy explained in a perfectly polite and friendly tone that still managed to give Serac whiplash. ¡°There are several different theories as to its nature and origin, but the one I¡¯d personally endorse is the Sanzu Repository Model. As you may know, this area used to be the basin that represented the lowest part of the Sanzu River, which flows from the peak of Mount Meru and through the Six Realms. The belief is that Fibrin are simply the aggregate remnants of all the sediments, pollutants, and¡ªhm, shall we say ¡®miscellaneous materials¡¯¡ªthat the river collected throughout its course. Now that the river has dried up in these parts, it¡¯s left only this field of Fibrin as its lasting legacy.¡± ¡°In other words, it¡¯s sewage,¡± Serac paraphrased, sharing not an iota of Trippy¡¯s respect for the subject, ¡°made up of the entire world¡¯s unwanted rubbish. But what¡¯s so bad about it that makes this whole canyon impassable? I don¡¯t mean to brag, but as a recent escapee of the Damnatorium, I have pretty high tolerance for yuckiness.¡± ¡°I think we¡¯re about to be treated to a demonstration,¡± Zacko cut in, pointing into the depths directly below him as he did. ¡°Look.¡± Serac followed Zacko¡¯s gaze and caught sight of movement on the canyon floor. The movement belonged to a lone creature¡ªa Flesh-fiend to be exact¡ªas it writhed and wriggled its vermiform body through and over the web-like structures. Its progress was slow, obviously impeded by the uneven and sticky surface. Well, that looks inconvenient, but not exactly impass¡ª Suddenly, the canyon floor itself came alive. The webs of Fibrin rearranged themselves in real time, separating and sliding out from under the Flesh-fiend before reintegrating into a new pattern that spread over the creature and pinned it in place. Serac watched as the Flesh-fiend continued to writhe and wriggle, now unable to make any progress whatsoever. It didn¡¯t take long before it stopped struggling altogether. The fact that the Fiend retained its physical form meant it hadn¡¯t died yet¡ªnot that it made a difference at this point. The newly reconstructed Fibrinous web showed no signs of shifting itself again, and it¡¯d only be a matter of time before its captive Aberrant dissolved into Souldust. ¡°Yikes,¡± Serac uttered her honest reaction. ¡°It¡¯s like it¡¯s got a mind of its own. Like it¡¯s waiting for more poor souls to trap.¡± ¡°Some say the Fibrin are a collective that grows and reinforces itself by feeding on Souldust,¡± Trippy offered in a tone that was entirely too cheerful for the contents of his speech. ¡°It follows a certain kind of logic. Now that the Sanzu River no longer supplies it with new material, it must seek out its own source of sustenance.¡± Serac nodded grimly. ¡°Not gonna lie, that kinda sounds like us Wayfarers in a sense.¡± ¡°I guess it¡¯s to be expected of a place called ¡®hell¡¯, but it¡¯s all a bit shit, isn¡¯t it?¡± Zacko chimed in with a sardonic smile. ¡°You think you¡¯ve just escaped a life of torture, then you run straight into this mother of all torture devices. Maybe even more unpleasant than anything they had down in the Damnatorium.¡± ¡°What¡¯s more, this thing acts like a gigantic jail cell,¡± Serac observed, equal parts dismayed and fascinated. ¡°It¡¯s penning in anyone that started out on this side of the Sanzu River. Me, you, any other Penitents who might¡¯ve managed to escape¡ªeven the Jailers and Wardens. You think the whole world just opened up, then it turns out even mother nature has conspired to keep us stranded on an island.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t take you for a poet, Horn-girl.¡± Zacko¡¯s smile widened into one that looked almost genuine. ¡°You read much literature while you were holed up in the meanest prison in hell?¡± ¡°Careful. Your bullshit meter is filling up. And who gave you permission to start calling me that again?¡± Zacko¡¯s eyes lit up, no doubt cooking up another snide retort. But then his expression suddenly turned serious as he leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. ¡°Keep your eyes pointed to the canyon, but we¡¯ve got company.¡± Serac tensed. The last time her Manusya companion said these words, the two of them had been visited by a Karmic Level 185 Deva. But as she attuned her senses, she soon realized that this latest presence didn¡¯t inspire nearly as much dread¡ªor really any alarm at all.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Two of them, right?¡± she whispered back, leaning over the cliff edge and pretending to be still interested in the fate of the lone Flesh-fiend. ¡°What do you want to do?¡± Despite the low-level threat, the question was a pertinent one. The desert crossing had run the two Wayfarers through more packs of Flesh-fiends and even several Frenzied stragglers. It meant that Serac herself was nursing the last third of her HP while her Cartridge was also down to just a handful of bullets. One mistake could mean the difference between life and reconstituting all the way back in [Laceration Gorge North], undoing the vast distance she¡¯d traveled while also forcing her to hunt for lost Liminal Karma. That was an outcome she very much wanted to avoid. ¡°At least two,¡± Zacko agreed in a low whisper. ¡°As for what to do about them¡­ just hang tight for a second. From the looks of it, I¡¯d guess these guys would want to use the terrain to their advantage. I say we let them, then give them a taste of their own medicine.¡± Zacko, while considerably friendlier than Trippy Version 1, was no less in love with roundabout speech. Serac was getting good at interpreting such riddles from men who were in love with their own voice, and she cottoned onto the Manusya¡¯s meaning readily enough. The newcomers¡¯ footsteps and ragged breathing grew perceptibly louder¡ªfar too sloppy in their approach. The would-be sneak-attackers lunged simultaneously, no doubt intent on pushing the two Wayfarers over the cliff edge. Serac and Zacko were ready for them, however. They split apart and dodged away from each other at the same time, causing both ambushers to whiff and¡ª ¡°Whoa! Watch out!¡± Serac instinctively reached out and grabbed hold of her attacker, just in time to stop them from falling to their own death. She got a good enough look at them to see that it was a Rakshasa woman¡ªeyes wide with horror, which thankfully meant she wasn¡¯t Frenzied. But Serac was forced to immediately turn her attention to the second ambusher, a male Rakshasa who¡¯d been unfortunate enough to choose Zacko as his target. For the Manusya had simply stepped to the side, content to watch his attacker stumble over the cliff edge and flail his arms at nothing but air. Serac flung the woman off herself and dove to the ground. Her right hand managed to grab onto the man¡¯s in the last possible second, but she had to hang half her own body over the edge to do so. An adult Rakshasa could be deceptively heavy despite their slim build, with most of their weight concentrated in their onyx skeleton and horns. This specimen certainly proved too heavy for Serac and her atrophied muscles (and her measly [Substance] of just 6), and she felt her grip loosen even as she dug PULVERIZER into the ground for additional purchase. ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± she screamed into the open air, meant for Zacko¡¯s ears. ¡°Help us up already!¡± ¡°Uh,¡± Zacko¡¯s reply sounded somewhere above her head, infuriatingly casual, ¡°couldn¡¯t you pull yourself up if you just let go?¡± ¡°If I let go, this man will die! Now hurry and pull us up!¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Zacko began to argue, then seemed to think better of it. Serac felt a firm pair of Manusya hands reach under her armpit, then the next thing she knew, she was up on her feet in an instant. The momentum of it also proved enough to fling the Rakshasa man up and back over the edge. Man, say what you will about Zacko, but he¡¯s strong, I¡¯ll give him that. If Serac thought she¡¯d survived the worst of it, however, then she¡¯d learned nothing from her preceding adventures in hell. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. For as soon as the Wayfarers had foiled their ambushers and regained their footing on solid ground, they found themselves surrounded, this time by a whole gaggle of newcomers. Rakshasas. At least a dozen of them. In various states of health¡ªwith cracked horns, prominent scars, and even missing limbs¡ªbut all united in their looks of fearful desperation. Some held weapons in their trembling hands, each flimsier and less threatening than the last. One had a six-shooter, probably stolen from a Jailer, but it was so rusted and bent out of shape to be clearly useless. Another had a ¡®club¡¯ that was just a stick tied together with a rock. Still others simply held their fists up in awkward stances, looking like they¡¯d never been in a fight in their lives. Rakshasas, all of them¡ªand they all looked terrified out of their minds. And yet, despite their obvious discomfort, they inched ever closer, spreading into a semicircle to pen the Wayfarers against the edge of the cliff. Serac, for her part, was more bewildered than alarmed. She glanced over at Zacko and saw that he¡¯d already lowered himself into one of his NINEFOLD stances, perfectly happy to ¡®defend¡¯ himself. Resigned, Serac sighed and unholstered REVOLVER. Only a handful of bullets left, but she wasn¡¯t so sure she even needed to expend any ammunition on this lot. ¡°Stop, all of you!¡± The sudden exclamation¡ªa rather feeble-sounding one despite its urgency¡ªcame from somewhere behind the reinforced troops. At least several members of the Rakshasa gang appeared to hesitate for a moment before resuming their advance. ¡°Stop, I say, stop! It¡¯s no use. Can¡¯t you see that she holds an Instrument in her hand?¡± At this, the gang did stop for good, with some of them now recoiling in horror at the sight of REVOLVER. Serac felt herself sigh again, this time in relief. Not quite how she¡¯d pictured this to go, but she¡¯d gladly avoid shedding the blood of fellow Rakshasas. The Rakshasas in question now parted to let the speaker through. It was a man, wizened and shrunken in appearance, with a pair of crumbling horns that had long lost their onyx luster. He now slowly approached the two souls his people had just tried to kill. His back was bent and his knees buckled with every step. ¡°Can it really be?¡± he spoke in the same feeble voice. His ancient eyes¡ªNaraka-red clouded by cataracts¡ªshone with tears as they trained upon Serac and her REVOLVER. ¡°How long have I waited for this day? A Wayfarer has risen from among us Penitents. Tell me, young soul: are you here to hasten our doom, or to deliver us salvation?¡± 23. Last Sorrow 23. Last Sorrow The settlement, if one could even call it that, consisted of shallow holes dug into the side of the cliff. Home to about thirty-odd Rakshasa Penitents¡ªincluding the dozen or so that had tried to jump Serac and Zacko¡ªthis humble collection of high-elevation cave dwellings bore the rather gloomy name of Last Sorrow. The first thing that caught Serac¡¯s attention¡ªafter she¡¯d stopped marveling at the precarious engineering that had gone into Last Sorrow¡¯s construction¡ªwas the presence of a giant lotus flower. Even larger than her Waystations and just as pure-white, it bloomed in the center of the largest cave, one that served as a gathering place of sorts. And wouldn¡¯t you know it? When she sat down and meditated next to it, it reconstituted her and sent her into leveling mode just as a regular Waystation would. ¡°This is a Hubstation,¡± Trippy explained, continuing to define his new role as a perfectly inoffensive tour guide. ¡°Rather than being placed down by individual choice, this particular installation would¡¯ve taken root from the cumulative imprints of an untold number of Wayfarers who¡¯d passed through here over the ages.¡± ¡°Really? But it¡¯s right next to the Fibrinous Canyon. How could any Wayfarer have passed through here at all, let alone an ¡®untold number¡¯ of them?¡± ¡°The Fibrinous Canyon wasn¡¯t always here. But Wayfarers have been trying to ascend Mount Meru for many Kalpas.¡± Trippy¡¯s explanation was to-the-point and quite reasonable. Indeed, when Serac meditated into the ¡®Hubstation¡¯, she also learned of its designation: [Sanzu Basin South]. That was further proof that this lotus flower predated the river¡¯s dessication¡ªwas perhaps even older than ¡®Last Sorrow¡¯ itself. However ancient the Hubstation might be, it¡¯d clearly become something of a sacred relic for the residents of Last Sorrow. None of the other Rakshasas here were Wayfarers, meaning they couldn¡¯t reconstitute at [Sanzu Basin South] if they died, nor could they access Pathsight¡¯s leveling system to improve their fitness to survive. But that didn¡¯t stop them from gathering around the lotus flower for group meditation sessions. Presently, Serac stood off to the side to observe one of these sessions, more out of curiosity than with any real purpose. Her mood had considerably improved since the nasty business with Sublimity, and all it¡¯d taken was a bit of introspection plus a fresh set of clothes, courtesy of one of the Sorrowers who happened to be a skilled seamstress. The tunic and pants had been sewn together using the molted exoskeleton of Flesh-fiends (yuck!), but the new clothes certainly looked better on her than the erstwhile Penitent¡¯s rags, which was a good enough reason to overlook their unsavory origins. All that to say Serac was now in the correct attire and headspace to immerse herself in some Narakite culture. The meditation was led¡ªunsurprisingly¡ªby Ravi, the wizened Rakshasa that had called the earlier ambush to a halt. He took a central position in the back of the room while the others formed a loose circle around him. He then led the congregation in a kind of prayer, one that consisted of mumbled words that were barely intelligible over the group¡¯s collective droning. Serac perked up her ears and listened, despite being overcome by a familiar sense of dread. The overlapping prayers reminded her too much of the lamentations of fellow inmates back in the Damnatorium, and the little snippets she did manage to catch here and there did little to improve her impression. ¡°¡­ Punish us¡­ forgive us¡­ let us repent¡­ the inborn sins of our souls¡­¡± It didn¡¯t take long for Serac to arrive at an uncomfortable truth¡ªthat these souls might be ¡®free¡¯ in flesh, but they were still very much ¡®Penitent¡¯ in spirit. Her disquiet only grew as she watched and noticed more irregularities. Many of the Sorrowers weren¡¯t just praying; they were also being tortured¡ªby themselves. Slapping their own bodies. Picking at festering wounds. Scratching the ground until their claws cracked. Nothing quite as bad as anything they might¡¯ve endured in the Damnatorium, but the fact that they were hurting themselves at all disturbed Serac to no end. One Rakshasa was being particularly hard on himself, repeatedly bashing his own head against the cave floor until his skin bled and bits of his horns chipped off. Serac recognized him with a start. He was the man that had tried to sneak up on Zacko before nearly killing himself in the process. ¡°Still think I shouldn¡¯t have let the poor bastard throw himself off the cliff?¡± Serac jumped, startled out of her own darkening thoughts. She then gave Zacko a sidelong glare as he lowered himself from the nearest ledge to join her. The Manusya too had changed into new flesh-sewn clothes, though in his case, the Rakshasa-minded tailoring proved a tight fit. ¡°Did you know they would be like this?¡± Serac demanded, incredulous. ¡°No. I mean, until an hour ago, I didn¡¯t even know they existed. But I¡¯ll say this. All this is¡­ more or less in line with what we Manusyas have been taught about Naraka.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. At this, Serac¡¯s glare twisted into an indignant frown. Somehow, the notion that a bunch of Manesferans three Realms above might be gossiping about her and her fellow Narakites didn¡¯t sit well with her. ¡°And what exactly do they teach you about Naraka?¡± she went on, dripping with sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯d love to know because, as you might¡¯ve gathered, we Narakites aren¡¯t as well-educated as you fancy folk.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get pissy with me, Serac; I¡¯m just calling it like it is,¡± Zacko retorted, as airy as ever. ¡°Even without a fancy education, you should know that every one of the Six Realms has its own¡ªwell, let¡¯s call it theme¡ªthat the Anchored souls are obsessed with. Naraka is hell, and that means everyone here is obsessed with penitence. So yeah, I¡¯m not surprised to see these guys still trying to punish themselves even after they¡¯d broken out of prison. If anything, you¡¯re the weird one.¡± ¡°I¡¯m the weird one? For what, having some modicum of self-respect? For refusing to pay for a crime I don¡¯t even remember committing?¡± ¡°Yes. Exactly that. Glad you¡¯re quick on the uptake.¡± Serac exhaled sharply through her mouth, by now more exasperated than angry. ¡°Whatever. I¡¯m not interested in debating philosophy with bullshitter extraordinaire. Oh, and to answer your question, yes! I don¡¯t regret saving the guy, and you should feel bad about not doing it yourself!¡± Zacko narrowed his eyes at this, looking genuinely confused. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Why? Because it¡¯s the right thing to do! When someone needs help, we help them. That¡¯s just a thing good souls do.¡± ¡°But¡­ the guy tried to kill us.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, we¡¯re Wayfarers. We can take it.¡± ¡°¡­ And who are you to say he even wanted our help? I mean, just look at him right now. He¡¯s in literal hell, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Maybe the kind thing would¡¯ve been to give his soul a chance at a new life, whatever that might look like.¡± ¡°No,¡± Serac said flatly, not even remotely persuaded. In her brief time as a freesoul, she¡¯d wavered on and agonized over a lot of things, but of this, she was 100% certain. She added, ¡°The kind thing is to give him the chance to choose that for himself.¡± Zacko fell silent, eyes still slightly narrowed. After a beat, he too exhaled audibly, tinged with a mild chuckle. ¡°Sure you¡¯re not a poet, Serac? I have to admit, I never really thought of it that way.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, maybe that¡¯s why your Karma is in the negative millions.¡± At this, the chuckle turned into a genuine laugh. Only a brief one, however, before a familiar shadow crossed the Manusya¡¯s face. Serac saw this and immediately regretted her words. By now, she¡¯d been around Zacko long enough to know that certain topics brought out the ¡®ghost of despair¡¯ in him. Apparently, the actual why of his extensive Karmic deficit was one such topic. She thought about apologizing, then could find neither the right words nor the appropriate attitude for it. For one thing, she wasn¡¯t done being cross with the Manusya and his callous disregard for Rakshasa life. For another, she hadn¡¯t yet been around Zacko long enough to understand his ghost on top of his person. But Serac was spared from having to continue a conversation that had lost its way, for that was when the Sorrower congregation ceased their ¡®meditations¡¯ and dispersed. The Rakshasas began to slouch and hobble their separate ways, with more than a few of them stopping to give Serac and Zacko a stricken look before quickly averting their gaze. It seemed that here, away from the oppression of prison life, the Penitents had found in the Wayfaring pair a surrogate Jailer to fear and worship. Ravi the ancient Rakshasa was the last to depart from the Hubstation. He, unlike the younger members of his congregation, approached the Wayfarers with purposeful if doddering steps. ¡°I trust,¡± he said, voice louder but no less feeble than his prayers, ¡°that you¡¯ve both managed to settle in without trouble?¡± Serac smiled at Ravi with as much goodwill as she could muster. Zacko merely stared, with one corner of his lips curled into the beginning of a sarcastic remark. ¡°I hope also,¡± Ravi continued, rather breathlessly, ¡°that you can find it in you to forgive our earlier indiscretions. We Penitents are a meek and fearful sort. And the only way for us to defend ourselves is by catching our enemies unawares. We did not know who you were, and could only assume that you¡¯d been sent from the prison to retrieve us.¡± Zacko said nothing. Serac didn¡¯t really know what to say, but felt like she must. ¡°Understandable,¡± she said hastily, ¡°and don¡¯t worry about all the¡­ you know, trying to kill us stuff. We¡¯re Wayfarers. We can take it.¡± It was a kind of crutch, defaulting to the same sentiment she¡¯d used in her earlier argument with Zacko. It was also meant as a feeble attempt at levity, but Ravi the elderly Penitent didn¡¯t appear to take it as such. He looked to her with cataractous eyes that could barely see, then spoke with a gravity that his failing voice could barely carry. ¡°Indeed, Wayfarers, it is in view of your boundless strength that I and all others at Last Sorrow must beseech your help. It is¡­ truly divine providence that brought you to our midst in our time of greatest need and¡ª¡± ¡°Spit it out, old man,¡± Zacko deigned to speak for the first time, absent his usual airiness. ¡°If you¡¯ve got something to say, then say it. But if I were you, I¡¯d try to make sure it¡¯s something we would want to hear.¡± If Ravi, for all his posturing about the meek and fearful nature of his people, had been perturbed by Zacko¡¯s belligerence, he didn¡¯t show it. And he kept his unseeing eyes trained on his fellow Rakshasa as he gave his answer. ¡°Our needs are simple, and our request to you even more so. We need to cross the Fibrinous Canyon, and for that, we beseech that you help us bring the Ferryman to heel.¡± 24. Ferryman 24. Ferryman ¡°Damn,¡± Zacko was the first to offer a reaction, along with a wry shake of his head, ¡°I should¡¯ve known it¡¯d come to this.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve heard of this ¡®Ferryman¡¯ guy already?¡± Serac asked, curiosity piqued. ¡°Yup. In fact, his ugly mug was the very first thing I saw when I reincarnated in Naraka¡ªas one of the ¡®customers¡¯ he¡¯d ferried across the Canyon. Shame I didn¡¯t get a good look at the ¡®Ferry¡¯ itself, though, before I and a bunch of Penitents were kicked to the curb in front of the Damnatorium.¡± ¡°Huh. And let me guess: this Ferryman¡¯s ¡®service¡¯ only offers one-way trips?¡± ¡°You guess correctly, Wayfarer,¡± Ravi again. ¡°The Ferryman is responsible for routinely supplying the Damnatorium with fresh intakes of Penitents. And for as long as I¡¯ve bided my time here in Last Sorrow, the Ferryman¡ªor rather, his Infernal Steed¡ªis the only creature I¡¯ve known to be capable of crossing the Canyon, untroubled by the Fibrinous web that spreads across its floor. But alas, neither I nor any of the younglings have managed to do aught with that knowledge.¡± ¡°I think I see where this is going,¡± Serac said, not without some trepidation. ¡°You want us to deal with this Ferryman guy and, what, capture his Steed? So it might be convinced to ferry us back to the other side of the Canyon instead? And let me guess again: it¡¯s not going to be nearly as easy as I just made it sound.¡± ¡°No,¡± it was Zacko who answered, looking somewhat more thoughtful than his usual self. ¡°But I think it¡¯s worth a shot. I mean, if we were to take the old man¡¯s word for it, it¡¯s not like we¡¯ve got any other choice.¡± ¡°I suppose¡­¡± Serac said, suppressing a sigh as she did. ¡°You got any strats cooked up already, Zacko, or do you expect us to ¡®die and learn¡¯ again?¡± ¡°The latter,¡± Zacko said without missing a beat. ¡°Damn,¡± Serac offered her honest reaction, along with the sigh she¡¯d been holding in, ¡°I should¡¯ve known it¡¯d come to this.¡± *** Shortly after its frenetic and tumultuous start, Serac¡¯s Wayfaring journey had become something of a waiting game. A week had passed since her and Zacko¡¯s arrival in Last Sorrow¡ªa week spent in nervous anticipation of a Ferry that could show up at any moment. By then, her life had settled into a new routine, much less painful than the one she¡¯d endured in prison but¡ªif she were being honest¡ªperhaps also more boring. She and Zacko would begin their day by patrolling Last Sorrow¡¯s immediate vicinity, ridding the area of any lesser Aberrants that might threaten the Penitents¡¯ peace. It was important work, and one that offered a steady flow of Karma to spend on a few additional levels (or, in Zacko¡¯s case, to chip away at his ¡®debt¡¯). But the work was also mindless and monotonous, and Serac was long ready for the big scary Ferryman to show up and teach her a lesson, if only to shake things up a little. The evenings spent inside the caves of Last Sorrow were, if anything, even more depressing. For this was where Serac would come face to face with the truly meager existence of her fellow Rakshasas, ones who¡¯d escaped a life of punishment only to end up stuck in Middle-of-Nowhere, Hell. To be sure, some of them had what one might call ¡®hobbies¡¯, if one stretched the definition enough. There was that seamstress who liked to go scrounging for raw materials with which to hone her craft. Ravi the elder seemed content to meditate for hours on end, even when he didn¡¯t have younglings to lead in prayer. Serac also met a man who¡¯d use his own blood to write¡ªvery slowly, given the limited supply of the ink of his choice. And none of his writing was actually legible, given the man used his own invented language. When pressed for details, however, he¡¯d only mumble something about ¡°work in progress¡± and ¡°the next great Narakite novel¡±, whatever that meant. But then¡­ there was also that guy. The head-basher by the name of Pazu, as Serac had since learned. He was a soul who, in one short week, had deteriorated rapidly in both body and spirit. His self-inflicted injuries only got worse and worse with each passing day, and if Serac weren¡¯t mistaken, his eyes looked noticeably hazier than how she¡¯d remembered them a week ago¡ªand it wasn¡¯t because of early-onset cataracts. Was Pazu becoming Frenzied right before their eyes? Was this what happened to Penitents who¡¯d been tortured beyond their limits¡ªwhether by Jailers or by themselves? And given enough time weighed down with hopelessness, would all Rakshasas stuck on this side of the Sanzu River eventually fall to Frenzy? Come to think of it, it was a small wonder that Serac herself had stayed relatively sane all this time. And doubly so for someone as old as Ravi. Perhaps there was something to be said for the elder¡¯s devotion to his prayers, especially if they were what kept him Zen throughout his hellish existence.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! And Serac wondered, not for the first time, about the murky origins of her own inborn Zen. Well, be that as it might, today was Day Seven of her and Zacko¡¯s arrival in Last Sorrow¡ªthe one-week anniversary of their prison break. For reasons unclear to herself, Serac had a good feeling about today. ¡®Seven¡¯ just felt like a good number: six plus one, and therefore the beginning of a new ¡®cycle¡¯. After their morning patrol, the Wayfarer pair took a quick reconstitution break at the Hubstation before making their way to a nearby promontory. It was an outcropping of pink rocks that provided the best view of the plateaus on the other side of the Canyon. From here, they could keep an eye on any Ferry-related activities that might be headed their way, and react accordingly to intercept. Normally, they¡¯d go through this lookout portion of their day in companionable silence, with each lost in their own thoughts and recollections. Today was Day Seven, however, and Serac found herself to be chattier than usual. And to her surprise and delight, Zacko seemed to mirror her mood. ¡°You think he¡¯ll snap out of it eventually?¡± was the first thing Zacko asked her, apropos of nothing that had preceded it. As such, it took her a second or two to realize what he meant. ¡°Are you asking if Pazu will stop torturing himself to death if we all get around him and¡­ do nothing? Which is what we¡¯re already doing?¡± Zacko turned to gawk at Serac, somewhat aghast. ¡°And here I thought I was supposed to be the sarcastic one. But also, yes, that¡¯s about the gist of what I was asking.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll die. Not to brag, but we Rakshasas are made of pretty stern stuff, considering how ¡®penitence¡¯ is like our whole thing. But¡­ even if he lives, I¡¯m not sure he¡¯ll be able to stay himself for much longer, if you catch my drift.¡± Zacko¡¯s uneasy silence indicated that he did. ¡°Why do you wanna know, anyway?¡± Serac asked, and not without a small knowing smile. ¡°Since when do you care if anyone other than you lives or dies?¡± ¡°Careful, Serac. I might not look it, but I¡¯ve had my share of¡­ reckoning with life and death,¡± Zacko said, his tone carrying just a whiff of the warning in his words. He let out a heavy sigh before continuing, ¡°But to answer your question, I guess this is just what happens when you spend enough time in hell. Everything is so uniformly shit here that, eventually, your shit just blends with everyone else¡¯s¡ªyou see that?¡± Serac did. Across the Canyon and atop the plateaus on the ¡®wide¡¯ side of the Sanzu River, a great pink sandstorm had kicked up, obscuring but also clearly announcing the presence of the man they¡¯d all been waiting for. The sandstorm only grew in size and intensity as it ¡®descended¡¯ the sheer drop on the other side. Then, as the storm reached the very bottom, Fibrin¡¯s white joined the substrate¡¯s pink to produce a candy-cane-colored maelstrom that marched across the Canyon floor at speed. Whatever was kicking up the spectacle was clearly capable of shredding the Fibrin where it lay, making itself immune to the web¡¯s immobilizing effects. This did catch Serac by surprise. Since the moment she¡¯d heard about the Ferryman and his Steed¡¯s ability to bypass the Fibrinous minefield, she¡¯d pictured an animal of some description that could fly over the Canyon. Now, she was more curious than ever to meet this thing that could simply run through everything in its path. The Wayfarer pair shelved their debate to instead focus on the new task. They sprinted along the cliff edge, farther away from Last Sorrow, as they tried to align themselves with the Ferry¡¯s course. After a week of ¡®farming¡¯ the local Aberrants, Serac had brought herself up to KL-9, with one additional point in [Ambition] (to bring Cartridge past the breakpoint of 48) and two in [Attunement] (for better MP flexibility). Zacko was still in negative Karma, so he was stuck at KL-16, but hey, at least both of them were freshly reconstituted and itching for action. They were in decent shape to present a boss with some challenge, and who knew? Perhaps, with some luck, they could even win this fight first try. The thing that was driving the sandstorm now climbed up the wall on the near side of the Canyon. It was a purely vertical climb, straight up and down, but the Ferryman¡¯s Infernal Steed made short work of it, losing not a fraction of its velocity as it tore up the cliff walls. And here, for the first time, the Steed in question broke through the storm of its own making, thereby revealing itself in its full fearsome glory. For all her morbid excitement and curiosity, Serac¡¯s main reaction upon seeing the Steed was one of utter bewilderment. For one thing, it wasn¡¯t an animal she¡¯d ever known of, in this or another life. In fact, it wasn¡¯t an animal at all. The thing was massive, large enough to comfortably house at least a few dozen Penitents with plenty more room to spare. Each of its four corners was buttressed by bulky battlements, whose parapets were lined with all manner of medieval weaponry. The foundations, on the other hand, writhed continuously with razor-sharp teeth that jutted out in radial patterns and spun in place. It was these spinning, gnashing teeth that sliced through the Fibrin web with ease while also providing the propulsive force behind the whole structure. Because this thing was decidedly not an animal¡ªor any kind of ¡®living thing¡¯, for that matter. No, it was a castle, complete with grimy stone walls that told its history of bloodshed and domination, one section of which had been cut away to allow its castellan to keep his glinting eyes on the road. [Designation: VETALA Ferryman of the Desolation] [Aberrant Race: Hellspawn] [Aberrant Class: Field Boss] [INFERNAL Instrument/Steed: ASHVANAGA the Fallen Fortress] Seeing this, Serac¡¯s unearned confidence fell apart in an instant. Because, unbeknownst to her and her Wayfaring companion, they¡¯d been preparing all week for the wrong task. What they had on their hands wasn¡¯t a boss fight. No, no one had told them that they were meant to siege a castle. 25. Damage Types 25. Damage Types As soon as Ashvanaga pulled up onto the Wayfarers¡¯ side of the river, it became clear that neither it nor its Ferryman had any intention of stopping for anyone. The castle rumbled onto the pink desert at top speed. The sandstorm billowed around it imperiously, obscuring and somehow enhancing the menace of its ¡®architecture¡¯. Serac and Zacko nevertheless sprinted head-first into the sandstorm, both intuiting that this boss fight would be as much a race as it was a contest of might. The Rakshasa dealt the opening salvo, unloading an entire cylinder as fast as she could and stopping only to allow her Stamina to recover. No matter who or what she¡¯d been in a previous life, she hadn¡¯t been born into her current one with the ability to sprint and aim a six-shooter at the same time. Thankfully, she was shooting at a big target, and all six of the unimbued bullets found their mark. [61!], [61!], [61!], [61!], [61!], [61!] -> [366!] After all that, Vetala¡¯s HP bar (or was it Ashvanaga¡¯s?) went down by only about a tenth. Pathetic damage! Yet, it only made sense that high Physical Mitigation would be one of the perks of having castle walls as your main line of defense. Even more disturbing than Ashvanaga¡¯s high defense, however, was that six clean hits hadn¡¯t been enough to Poise-break it. Which meant it was allowed to rumble on unimpeded, with Serac none the wiser as to how to slow it down. Yet, it only made sense that stupidly high Poise would be one of the perks of being a freaking castle. Physical couldn¡¯t make a dent, but Serac still had another damage type to try. Sprinting and reloading at the same was another tricky skill she had to master on the fly, but for this particular experiment, she only needed the one cartridge to sit for her. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] On the back of [152!] in self-damage, REVOLVER¡¯s black flames of penitence found its target easily enough. It then dealt¡­ only [33!] points of damage. The disappointment only worsened, as the whole attack fizzled out after just one hit. It finally happened: that suboptimal scenario Trippy Version 1 had warned her about. [Catharsis] had hurt Serac more than it¡¯d hurt her enemy! So¡­ the Infernal Steed¡¯s castle walls were even more impervious to Infernal damage than to Physical. Not only that, but it was also flame-repellent to boot, cutting out [Catharsis] before the spell could complete its three-stage arson. Well, with that established, Serac was quickly running out of options. ¡°There must be a weak spot!¡± Zacko shouted even as he sprinted to keep up with the boss. He was the more experienced of the two Wayfarers, and his mind had been churning as fast as his feet. ¡°Just gotta slow this thing down long enough for us to find it. Follow my lead!¡± Without waiting for a reply, the NINEFOLD master leapt forward, extending his legs full-stretch and springing himself ahead of the living castle. [Auxiliary Technique: THE EIGHTH DAO¡ªLANCE] Follow your lead? How am I supposed to follow that? Even as she inwardly grumbled, Serac picked up her pace, burning a big chunk of her Stamina in an effort to match Zacko¡¯s burst of speed. She didn¡¯t have any fancy hiyah moves with which to propel herself, but she could run like her life depended on it. Just as she was about to catch up to Zacko, the Manusya spun in place to face Ashvanaga head on. He then lowered his shoulder and tackled the castle, right at the base of its front wall. [Auxiliary Technique: THE FIFTH DAO¡ªPAULDRON] With a resounding crash of stone versus man, Ashvanaga and its entire structure came to a complete halt, held back by a Manusya and his NINEFOLD-empowered shoulder. ¡°Hurry!¡± Zacko screamed in a strained voice, even as his veins popped and his sallow skin reddened. ¡°Find that fucking weak spot and hit it!¡± It was a good thing, then, that Serac¡¯s mind too had been churning as fast as her Stamina had been draining. Ashvanaga the castle proved to be as impenetrable as it looked, but it was also¡ªaccording to Pathsight, at least¡ªan Instrument and a Steed rolled into one. That meant someone still needed to wield it. Someone needed to hold its reins. A pair of glinting eyes yet stared out of a slit upon the castle¡¯s front wall. By now, Serac had a pretty good inkling of to whom those eyes belonged. It followed, then, that she knew exactly where to look for the boss¡¯s ¡®weak spot¡¯. With Zacko holding the fort (literally), Serac now had the time to aim, lock, and fire. And the second bullet in a fresh cylinder found its mark, right through the slit and between Vetala¡¯s eyes. [111!] That was equal to REVOLVER¡¯s base AV, unmitigated. A marked improvement over the preceding hits, but nowhere near enough to finish the fight in short order. She knew the next thing to try was [Catharsis], this time against Vetala the Ferryman¡¯s Mitigation profile. But she needed to cycle through REVOLVER¡¯s chambers to rearm the spell, and that needed more shooting, and more shooting needed¡ª [111!], [111!], !, !, ! ¡ªneeded more Stamina, which she didn¡¯t have! Too much running, too much shooting, and too much frenetic reloading had completely messed with Serac¡¯s ability to manage her Stamina. With the now empty green bar flashing its warning, she was forced to wait. Precious Ksanas slipped away¡ªKsanas that weakened a NINEFOLD master¡¯s resolve and emboldened his enemies.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Ugh!¡± Serac looked up in alarm, only to see a reeling and profusely bleeding Zacko, skewered by multiple javelins. Said javelins had been thrown from the battlements above, where several Jailers now poked out their pale heads behind the parapets. Serac and Zacko had taken too long to find and exploit the boss¡¯s weak spot. The fight itself had transitioned from a race into a contest of might, one in which the Wayfarers were both outnumbered and outclassed. With a thirsty roar of shifting stone and churning metal, the castle resumed its rumbling march. First, Zacko¡¯s stance broke, followed quickly by his entire body as he was run over, becoming only the latest of puny souls to be subsumed into Ashvanaga¡¯s history of bloodshed and domination. ¡°N¡ª!¡± Serac tried to scream in horror, momentarily forgetting about the impermanence of her companion¡¯s death. She herself didn¡¯t even have the time to finish her scream before she too was dragged under the whole weight of a living castle. Her last thought before she was ground into Souldust was: wow, this is at least a thousand times worse than the Pulverizer. The incorporeal cloud that used to be Serac Edin wafted into the air, momentarily mixing with Ashvanaga¡¯s sandstorm before breaking through to the red sky above. From her new (and fleeting) vantage point, she observed the ¡®Ferry¡¯s¡¯ irrepressible march toward its destination, before her attention was drawn to a movement further back in the desert. A lone, puny figure¡ªa Rakshasa man, to be exact¡ªwas moving at speed, or as fast as his weakened legs could carry him. The man ran from the direction of the dried-up Sanzu River¡ªfrom Last Sorrow¡ªand he didn¡¯t stop until the sandstorm he¡¯d been chasing faded into the distance, long out of reach. And even as the last of Serac¡¯s consciousness dissolved into the Interstitium, she didn¡¯t fail to notice the man¡¯s features, striking and visible even from the sky above. Chief among them was a pair of bleeding onyx horns, chipped and broken from a whole week of head-bashing. *** The Ferryman had already doubled back and crossed the Canyon by the time Serac and Zacko reconstituted at the Hubstation. They were so informed by a somewhat remorseful Ravi, who also expressed his utmost surprise upon learning that the Infernal Steed hitherto veiled by sandstorms was a living castle rather than some animal that might be amenable to switching allegiance. Yet, by then, the Wayfarers had already decided by unspoken agreement that there would be no change to their plans. Whether conquering Vetala-Ashvanaga might lead to solving the Fibrinous Canyon was no longer the foremost concern. A boss had kicked their ass, and now, they couldn¡¯t rest until they returned the favor tenfold. Using ¡®historical data¡¯ collected by Last Sorrow¡¯s oldest resident, they could forecast the approximate timing of the Ferry¡¯s next arrival. Having just finished a delivery, the Ferryman and his Steed were unlikely to return for at least another month, or perhaps even longer. Thus, the first roadblock in Serac¡¯s Wayfaring journey became a veritable hiatus, one spent in the monotony of Fiend-hunting as well as the dour company of sorrowful Penitents. Forget becoming Frenzied; she very well might¡¯ve died of boredom, were it not for her burning desire for a rematch and the corresponding need to level up¡ªand to do so smartly. ¡°Permission to speak freely, Wayfarer.¡± ¡°Permission granted.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve taken the liberty to analyze your failed attempt to smite [VETALA Ferryman of the Desolation] and have identified three key areas for improvement. Permission to¡ª¡± ¡°Yes, yes, go ahead¡­ Trippy.¡± ¡°First is Stamina management. The mobile nature of Vetala¡¯s Infernal Steed necessitates a high rate of Stamina expenditure throughout the encounter. My recommendation would be to sufficiently boost your maximum Stamina in preparation for the next attempt, which you can do by¡ª¡± ¡°By leveling Abidance. I know. What are the other two areas?¡± ¡°Second is the choice of attacking strategy. While Vetala and his Steed share the same total HP, the bulk of their combined form is taken up by the Steed and its high Physical and Infernal Mitigation, which, unfortunately, happens to be the only two damage types currently at your disposal. The way you initially approached the fight¡ªmostly by focusing on the Steed¡ªwas highly inefficient, but that also means there¡¯s much to be gained from¡ª¡± ¡°From honing in on the ¡®weak spot¡¯¡ªVetala himself. Is that what you were going to say?¡± ¡°¡­ Well, not exactly, no. This actually leads naturally into my third point, which is the role of your Manusya companion.¡± ¡°Zacko? What do you mean? He was doing his thing, right? ¡®Drawing aggro¡¯ and creating openings for me to exploit? I mean, that¡¯s how we won our last boss fight against donkey man.¡± ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t disagree, Wayfarer, but as I understand it, your ¡®last boss fight¡¯ occurred while Zacarias Borges-Juventus was missing his Instrument.¡± At this, Serac couldn¡¯t help but gasp. Trippy Version 2 was right, of course! In the week she¡¯d spent beating up on easy mobs like the Flesh-fiend, she¡¯d forgotten all about Zacko and his laughing Buddha mask, one that he kept on his person at all times by clipping it to his belt. ¡°Come to think of it,¡± she murmured, ¡°it¡¯s strange that I¡¯ve never seen him actually wear that mask.¡± ¡°Not just strange, Wayfarer. I¡¯d even go so far as to say it¡¯s irresponsible of him. VISAGE is an Erudite Instrument¡ªcapable, of course, of dealing Erudite damage. Unless we expect Vetala¡¯s Steed to possess universal Mitigation, we definitely ought to test how it might fare against¡ª¡± ¡°Wayfarer? A word?¡± Just then, Serac¡¯s private conference was interrupted by someone who couldn¡¯t have known about the voice in her head. Pazu the head-basher now joined her by the Hubstation¡¯s giant lotus flower, lowering himself into a meditative stance to match hers. Serac half-expected him to bend over and start bashing his head right there and then, but at least on this occasion, the man appeared to have his self-punitive impulses under control. That didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t in a sorry state, however. His broken horns were a gruesome and painful sight for any soul to behold, let alone a Rakshasa who wore hers proudly. As much as Serac felt sorry for the man, she couldn¡¯t quite bring herself to enjoy his company, which was why it took her a while to compose her response. In the end, she settled on a curt and minimally polite: ¡°Sure.¡± Pazu bowed his head slightly in a gesture of gratitude. Then his gaunt, embattled features were softened by a sheepish smile as he said, ¡°I hope you don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but actually, you¡¯re not the Wayfarer I wished to speak to. It¡¯s just¡­ I¡¯m too ashamed to face him on my own. Do you¡­ happen to know where the Manusya might be?¡± ¡°Zacko?¡± Serac raised an eyebrow. Whatever she might¡¯ve expected Pazu¡¯s question to be, it certainly wasn¡¯t this. ¡°You¡¯re in luck, because I was just about to go look for him myself. But¡­ can I ask why you want to see him?¡± After the two of you kind of tried to kill each other just the other day? Was left unsaid. And whether or not Pazu managed to read between the lines, his voice took on just a hint of defiance as he replied. ¡°I wish to ask Zacarias¡­ whether he might teach me how to fight.¡± 26. You Smite and You Build 26. You Smite and You Build Slowly but surely, Last Sorrow became a place of hope and forward momentum. All it¡¯d taken was a plan of action¡ªif not a light at the end of the tunnel, then at least the means to get there. Granted, neither the plan nor the action would¡¯ve been possible without a couple of outsiders that had just happened to stop by, but Serac didn¡¯t see anything wrong with that. In fact, wouldn¡¯t she herself still be stuck in prison if it hadn¡¯t been for Trippy¡¯s timely intervention? Sometimes, a girl just needed to feel needed. Nothing wrong with that, either. The Penitents of Last Sorrow needed Serac and Zacko to show up in their lives, and truth be told, Serac and Zacko needed them in turn¡ªat least at this point in their journey. ¡°That¡¯s not how you make a fist. Unless you want to break your fingers the moment you miraculously land a punch.¡± Presently, Zacarias Borges-Juventus stood by the same cliff edge where he got ambushed some weeks ago. Today, he again faced a gaggle of Rakshasas that formed a semicircle around him¡ªexcept none of them were armed. Well, unless you counted the teachings of a NINEFOLD master to be a weapon, one that was perhaps a little more reliable than sticks and stones. ¡°Start with your pinky finger, see? Tuck it in real tight and fold the other fingers over one by one. Uh¡­ actually, I never thought to ask if you guys can even do that. Do your claws get in the way?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got it, boss!¡± Serac chimed in, demonstrating at the front of the class. She was a member of the inaugural graduating class, along with Pazu, but she still liked to poke her head in whenever the master was with his new students. ¡°And don¡¯t worry about us Rakshasas. Our thick skin is about the only thing we¡¯ve got going for us!¡± ¡°Right,¡± Zacko muttered, obviously miffed. He seemed to take his teaching duties rather more seriously than he would any other aspect of his life, and he¡¯d already tried several times to get rid of Serac. ¡°Anyway, once you¡¯ve managed to make a proper fist, I want you to copy my stance. Pay special attention to the feet now. This is how you distribute your¡ª¡± ¡°Ope, there it is again! Your boy Pazu¡¯s killing it out there, boss!¡± Serac¡¯s latest interruption drew an exasperated sigh from Zacko. But he also couldn¡¯t hide his curiosity, as his eyes flashed with a Pathsighted gleam. [12 ?] was what showed up on Serac¡¯s vision to join with the rest of her Liminal Karma. The same number would be flowing into Zacko¡¯s coffers: their equal share for having contributed indirectly to the smiting of an Aberrant somewhere out there in the desert. And this ratio was something Serac did feel genuinely apologetic about. Between the two Wayfarers, Zacko definitely deserved the lion¡¯s share of the credit for having trained Pazu in the basics of melee combat. All Serac did, from one Rakshasa to another, was show him a few ways to dodge a Flesh-fiend¡¯s lunge attack. Pathsight being what it was, it couldn¡¯t bother to calculate the minutiae of teaching contributions. If anything, Serac thought it was mighty generous of ¡®the system¡¯ to reward her with indirect Karma at all. Even Zacko was astounded when the first batch of mysterious numbers had flowed in while he was out backing up Pazu on his maiden patrol. ¡°This is what¡¯s called Secondary Transfer,¡± had been Trippy¡¯s explanation, rich with technical context as always. ¡°When a Wayfarer is adjudged to have indirectly assisted in a smiting conducted by an Anchored soul, the assisting Wayfarer receives a maximum 50% of the corresponding Karma credit. Do note, however, that this reward will diminish with each subsequent smiting by the same individual, meaning Secondary Transfer cannot be relied upon as a permanent source of passive Karma.¡± But even a temporary source of passive Karma was wonderful news for a level-starved Wayfarer and her debt-paying companion. The latest inflow of just [12 ?] likely meant that Pazu¡¯s well would soon run dry, but then Mahta was already waiting in the wings, then Aji would be ready after that. In fact, assuming all the ¡®younglings¡¯ of Last Sorrow could be counted on to smite a few Aberrants each, the Manusya who¡¯d taught them how to fight was looking at a very nice windfall to help him on his Path to Karmic rehabilitation. ¡°See Zacko?¡± Serac yelled in the middle of class again, not knowing when to quit while she was ahead. ¡°Aren¡¯t you glad you helped people instead of killing them? Maybe if you¡¯d been doing that from the start, you wouldn¡¯t be in so much¡ª¡± ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough out of you,¡± Zacko snapped, using his teacher voice to full effect. ¡°If you¡¯re going to be a nuisance, do it where I can¡¯t see or hear you. Go¡­ help Indira with her sewing or something, I don¡¯t care.¡± Serac flashed the NINEFOLD master a shit-eating grin even as she kicked herself out of his class. ¡®I don¡¯t care,¡¯ huh? You ain¡¯t fooling anyone, Zacko. Not anymore. As she headed back to the cave dwellings, she had every intention of following Zacko¡¯s advice. But Indira the seamstress was nowhere to be found, likely out scavenging for more supplies. More to kill the time rather than out of necessity, Serac sat down next to the Hubstation to take a gander at her current ¡®status¡¯.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. [Karmic Level 13 -> ] [Liminal Karma: 492 ?] [Requisite Karma: 1581 ?] Since her defeat to Vetala-Ashvanaga some couple of weeks ago, she¡¯d manage to level up four more times, putting all four attribute points into Abidance as Trippy had suggested. That brought her max Stamina up to 114, which should help her squeeze in an extra shot or dodge-roll. All in all, though, she was starting to be frustrated by her progression¡ªor the lack thereof. Frustrated enough to distract her out of her meditative state¡­ and notice Ravi¡¯s wizened face staring serenely across the lotus flower. ¡°Gah!¡± she yelped, nearly jumping to her feet as she did. ¡°Sorry, didn¡¯t mean to yell, but you gotta make more noise when you¡¯re coming and going, man.¡± ¡°Apologies, Wayfarer,¡± Ravi said, voice feeble but not at all apologetic. ¡°You appeared deep in thought. Is something vexing you?¡± ¡°Maybe vex is too a strong word,¡± Serac said as she re-crossed her legs, ¡°but I am feeling just a little lost on what to do.¡± Ravi nodded sagely. ¡°Perhaps you feel that you¡¯ve hit something of an impasse.¡± ¡°Maybe impasse is too a strong word, but yeah, I¡¯m a little worried about twiddling my thumbs for the next fortnight¡ªor however long it takes for the Ferryman to come back. I think Zacko and I have hunted the local Aberrants half to extinction, and even if we haven¡¯t, the returns we¡¯re getting from them are nowhere near enough to keep up with leveling demands. I don¡¯t know if you know this, but¡ª¡± ¡°The Karma you require for leveling up increases with each level. Yes, Zacarias told me that the other day.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Serac raised an eyebrow, not surprised but still a little surprised that Zacko had been getting so chummy with the local Rakshasas. ¡°Yeah, and it¡¯s really starting to ramp up. It¡¯s just¡ªwhat¡¯s the word¡ª¡®diminishing returns¡¯ at this point, you know? Even if I smite every Flesh-fiend I can get my claws on from here on out, I don¡¯t know that¡¯s really going to move the needle for my readiness to take on Vetala¡­ or maybe even stronger enemies after that.¡± Ravi nodded again, a little slower this time. His eyes were half-closed, which made him look even sleepier than usual. ¡°Are you familiar, Wayfarer, with the story of the frog in the well?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t say I am. Mind you, you could probably fill a library with the stories I¡¯m not familiar with.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a fable about one¡¯s limited perspective of the world and the ignorance and complacency engendered by such limitations. You see, how can the frog know just how vast the sky is beyond the circular rim of her well? How mighty the challenges that await her, should she only venture to step foot into the outside world? I believe that the frog¡¯s complacency and your frustrations are really two sides of the same coin.¡± ¡°¡­ They are?¡± ¡°Yes. Just as the frog overestimates her own place in the world, you underestimate your own potential for growth. Get across the Canyon, and you shall see, Wayfarer. There are challenges under the Naraka sky that are far greater and worthier than a Flesh-fiend or even a Ferryman and his living castle. And your rewards for overcoming those challenges will be commensurate with their difficulties. I daresay you won¡¯t be complaining of ¡®diminishing returns¡¯ then.¡± ¡°Ha! You¡¯re probably right. And it doesn¡¯t stop there, right? Even after I conquer everything Naraka can throw at me, I still have the other Five Realms to climb. At least¡­ that¡¯s what I promised¡­¡± Serac trailed off, suddenly unsure how much her ¡®promise¡¯ still mattered. As if sensing her hesitation, her Rakshasa elder rushed to her aid. ¡°No doubt, Serac. I¡¯ve no doubt of the grandness of the journey that still awaits you,¡± Ravi said, then opened his eyes to their cataractous fullness, looking wide awake if a little unfocused. ¡°Yet, there¡¯s more to be said about the frog in the well. For I sometimes wonder whether I tell that story for the benefit of younglings like yourself, or perhaps¡ª¡± ¡°Wayfarer!¡± It happened so frequently that, by now, Serac should¡¯ve been used to getting interrupted while sitting next to a lotus flower. She snapped to attention all the same, with her fight-or-flight instincts responding to the voice¡¯s urgency. Pazu the no-longer-a-head-basher came rushing toward the Hubstation, followed closely by Indira the seamstress. Both were panting hard as though they¡¯d just run a long distance. The dark flush of their cinnabar skins spoke plainly of their shared and heightened emotion. And even though their faces too spoke plainly of the urgent news they¡¯d come to bear, Serac¡¯s first thought was: Pazu and Indira? Well, I never! ¡°Wayfarer!¡± Pazu exclaimed again, oblivious to said Wayfarer¡¯s on-the-fly inferences about his personal life. ¡°It¡¯s the Ferryman! He¡¯s here early¡ªand about to make his ¡®descent¡¯, even as we speak!¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Serac said with a calmness that surprised herself. And then¡­ she couldn¡¯t help it. She once more broke into a shit-eating grin despite knowing full well this was neither the time nor the place. ¡°But once this is all over, you two are going to tell me everything.¡± By the time she climbed back up to the surface, Zacko was already there waiting for her. Wordlessly, they broke into a pacey jog, headed for the same promontory where they intercepted the Ferryman last time. Already, they could see the pink sandstorm rumbling toward the cliffs on the other side of the Canyon. Theirs was an unspoken understanding built from nearly a month of smiting as a team. Despite the enemy¡¯s unexpectedly early arrival, no words were needed. All the strategizing, coordinating, and ironing out were over and done with. Now, it was time to put theory into practice. The Wayfarers reached the promontory, just in time to see the sandstorm begin its ascent on the near side of the Canyon. Out of the corner of her eye, Serac saw Zacko¡¯s over-serious expression soften¡ªan irreverent smile to match her shit-eating grin. But she didn¡¯t get to see the smile for long, before it too disappeared behind the mask of a laughing Buddha. 27. Visage 27. Visage [Designation: VISAGE] [Instrument Class: ERUDITE] [Anchored Realm: MANESFERA (+3)] [Item Description: What does it mean to wear a mask? In a way, it¡¯s a commitment to a narrow set of duties and expectations; you strip away your own face in order to take on the immutable persona of another. That persona could be a soul, a god, a fantastical creature, or even an idea, but whatever it may be, it¡¯s not you as you know yourself. Yet, in another, very real sense, a mask can be freeing. By shifting into that second ¡®you¡¯, you leave behind the burdens and misgivings of the first. You breathe life into a new reality, one in which your choices are redefined, your dreams relived, and your sins reclaimed. Who will you, Wayfarer, be when you put on that mask: the dreamer or the sinner?] *** ¡°You wanna know why I don¡¯t like to wear VISAGE?¡± When Serac finally did ask (and not without some trepidation), Zacko had been surprisingly forthright with his answer, with none of his usual glibness or circumlocution. The answer itself had been just as surprising, not only for its simple logic, but also for its manifold implications. ¡°I suppose there are many reasons, but if I were to boil it down to one, it¡¯s because I don¡¯t want to go further into debt. You see, VISAGE¡¯s proprietary resource is Karma; I need to spend Karma to use its powers. Yup. You can say I drew the short end of the transmutation stick.¡± That explains so much! Had been Serac¡¯s first thought. It even explains why Zacko was always so keen to partner up. He can hold his own with the NINEFOLD DAO, but he needs another Wayfarer to pull out the big guns on occasion. Occasions like fighting a boss with upwards of 3,000 HP¡­ ¡°Wait, hang on.¡± Serac had frowned as she gave voice to her second thought. ¡°You still managed to level up to 16, so you were still earning more Karma then you were spending, right? What happened? Where did it all go wrong?¡± The shadow that came over Zacko¡¯s face then had told Serac that she¡¯d stumbled onto ¡®ghost¡¯ territory. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I ran into a situation where I ended up draining a metric shit-ton of Karma¡­ and with nothing to show for it. It¡¯s a boring tale. Nothing that would strike your fancy, and irrelevant to our goals.¡± Serac hadn¡¯t pressed further. If she and Zacko hadn¡¯t yet progressed into the opening-old-scars phase of their partnership, then so be it. Besides, even this bit of truncated confession had been a marked improvement over the boasts about wine and women. ¡°I get why you bring it up, though,¡± Zacko had continued then, ¡°and you don¡¯t need to twist my arm. Against an enemy of Ashvanaga¡¯s Mitigation profile, I can¡¯t be too precious about my Karma. I mean, I¡¯m still in the negatives, so what¡¯s a few thousand more, right?¡± Zacko had said this with one of his not-so-winning winks. Serac had tried to smile back, but she could see that her companion¡¯s ghost hadn¡¯t fully left him. In truth, it¡¯d been something of a relief for both of them when they shifted fully to the ¡®strategy¡¯ portion of their talk. ¡°Alright, I think I know exactly how we¡¯re going to take out the Ferryman. But for this to work, we¡¯re gonna need to pull off a ¡®role reversal¡¯¡­¡± And reverse it they did. Presently, Serac the scrawny gunslinger jumped in front of the living castle, while her muscly Manusya partner ran off to the side. For their strategy to work, Serac had to start out as the ¡®tank¡¯, drawing aggro while Zacko prepared his big VISAGE-empowered attack. On this second attempt at Vetala-Ashvanaga, Serac knew not to waste her bullets (or her Stamina!) on the castle wall. Instead, she concentrated on staying front and center of the castle, keeping herself aligned with Vetala¡¯s ¡®eye slit¡¯ as she backpedaled at record speed. The green bar of her Stamina drained at a steady rate, but not so fast that she needed to worry about it running out at an inopportune time. Besides, she was waiting for specific cues for her to move into the Stamina-expending phase of her fight. Cues like¡ª A pair of pale, blobby faces poked out of the parapets above, one for each of the front battlements. Jailer adds. The Jailers wasted no time grabbing two of the javelins that lined the parapets and chucking them in Serac¡¯s direction. Just two javelins. I can ¡®tank¡¯ them. I have to. ¡°Start off by letting the Jailers¡¯ javelins hit you,¡± had been Zacko¡¯s instruction to her. ¡°One might be enough, but preferably two to be safe.¡± ¡°Yeah, I get you,¡± Serac had responded with a sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t like it, but it¡¯s what I have to do to maximize the damage from [Catharsis].¡± ¡°That too, but there¡¯s more to this. Remember the end of the last fight? How I got skewered by the damn things? Well, right before I died, I noticed that the javelins proc¡¯d [Bleed]. My guess is they¡¯re coated with Vetala¡¯s magic.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Procked bleed?¡± Serac had looked at Zacko like he¡¯d grown a pair of horns. ¡°Seriously, man, does everyone in Manesfera talk like this, or just you?¡± ¡°In this case, Wayfarer, the Manusya has employed the appropriate terminology,¡± Trippy had come in to perform his glossary duties, with aplomb and much to Serac¡¯s chagrin. ¡°[Bleed] denotes a status effect in which the afflicted soul continually loses a small amount of health, proportional to their maximum HP. It comes under the umbrella of various DoT¡ªor ¡®damage over time¡¯¡ªeffects that are recognized under Pathsight. ¡®Proc¡¯, on the other hand, is something of a slang that has entered the vernacular of Wayfarers who are active in the current Kalpa.¡± ¡°I swear, this Kalpa and their newfangled lingo are doing my head in.¡± ¡°You¡¯re literally one of the newest Wayfarers of this generation,¡± Zacko had teased without missing a beat. ¡°Accept your fate and get with the times, Serac. And while you¡¯re at it, did Trippy also explain to you why you should let yourself [Bleed] in this fight?¡± Trippy hadn¡¯t. But the answer had come to Serac in an instant, unaided. ¡°It¡¯s to do with my Realm Boon, isn¡¯t it?¡± At the same time, she¡¯d subconsciously pulled up the relevant info from Pathsight. ¡°TRIBULATION: For every negative status effect on self, the Rakshasa receives a universal AV buff of 5%. I assume [Bleed] counts as one of these negative status effects?¡± ¡°Bingo! 5% doesn¡¯t sound like much, but against a boss with 3,000 HP, we need all the help we can get.¡± Serac could certainly agree with all of that. Agreeing with theory, however, didn¡¯t make practice any less painful. [165!], [165!] -> [330!] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BLEED] [TRIBULATION active: current buff at 5%] One javelin went clean through Serac¡¯s flank, and the other into her thigh. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she quickly used a PULVERIZER punch to break off the shaft that stuck out from her thigh, lest it affect her ability to perform the next phase of her tanking duties. For this was the most difficult part of her fight. The castle rumbled ever towards its destination, and the Jailers upon its ramparts continued to fling [Bleed]-coated javelins at the Rakshasa gate-crasher. And instead of fighting back, Serac now turned her full focus to making sure she wouldn¡¯t get hit again. [4!], [4!], [4!], ¡­ With every second that passed, Serac lost more of her HP to the [Bleed] effect. Physically, it wasn¡¯t so much painful as it was discomfiting, like she was becoming weaker and more light-headed with each passing second. While her red bar continued to tick down, she was more concerned with her green. Because she couldn¡¯t afford to lose any more HP, she also couldn¡¯t block the Jailers¡¯ attacks with PULVERIZER, meaning her only recourse was to sidestep and dodge. Not an easy ask, with two Jailers aiming for one Serac. Each instance of active evasion lost her a discernible chunk of Stamina. She would be forced to stop and recover before long, and that would spell disaster. Unless¡­ Please hurry, Zacko. I was never cut out to be a tank, and I don¡¯t think I can hold out much longer¡­ ¡°You did an amazing job, Horn-girl! And now it¡¯s my turn.¡± Finally! But Serac¡¯s relief at hearing Zacko¡¯s voice quickly turned to bone-chilling awe as she saw his face¡ªno, his VISAGE. The wooden mask that bore the likeness of a laughing Buddha was now imbued with a purple aura. Purple like a violet flower. Purple like an amethyst jewel. Purple like¡­ royalty. Oblivious to Serac¡¯s lifetimes-spanning recollections, the Buddha¡¯s laughter took on a menacing glare as it imparted its magic to its wearer. Zacko¡¯s every well-defined muscle now coursed with the same purple energy that radiated from his mask. It was power that¡¯d taken every painstaking second of a Rakshasa¡¯s turn at ¡®tanking¡¯ to charge. It was power that its Manusya wielder had paid dearly for, with the currency of his self-worth. [Dreamer Aspect: THE SIXTH DAO¡ªHAMMER OF JUDGMENT] A leaping headbutt. A NINEFOLD master¡¯s signature Poise-break technique, now imbued with Erudite energy and amplified to its maximum potential. Serac¡¯s whole vision flashed with a bright purple light, just as her eardrums ruptured from the resounding crash of stone vs Buddha. And just like the last time a reckless man ran head-first into a rumbling castle, the castle lost, coming to a complete stop at Zacko¡¯s feet. Except, this time, the castle did more than just stop. Zacko¡¯s headbutt had left a physical imprint on Ashvanaga¡¯s front wall, in the form of an impact crater and chunks of crushed debris that now fell around it. And now, the entire structure keeled over. Yes. That was the first thing that came to Serac¡¯s mind as she observed the phenomenon in real time. It was the height of lunacy to attribute such a phrase to a castle of all things, but it was also correct beyond all doubt. Serac knew this because she¡¯d seen it happen before. She saw it with Porky the Jailer after she¡¯d hit him with three unimbued bullets. She saw it with Bayu the Warden after he¡¯d taken Zacko¡¯s [Cudgel] square in the head. And now, she saw it with Ashvanaga as it lost all its castle-y functions along with the entirety of its Poise. You can Poise-break the opponent, thereby bringing any brute¡ªno matter how large or how powerful¡ªto their knees. Right again, Trippy. If only he could¡¯ve been here now to witness the Poise-break of the largest, most powerful brute this side of the Sanzu River. But now wasn¡¯t the time to cry over spilled soul. No, it was time for Serac the gunslinger to step back in¡ªand take full advantage of this Poise-break for the ages. By Serac¡¯s vague estimations, something like 15 to 20 seconds had elapsed between the time she¡¯d suffered [Bleed] and Zacko had finished charging his [Hammer of Judgment]. Through it all, her HP had continued to tick down by [4!] points per second, which, combined with the damage from the javelins, had brought her health down to a bit over half. This was the moment she¡¯d been saving her HP for. With Ashvanaga down for the count, its castellan was a sitting duck. And as Serac raised a fully-loaded REVOLVER, she thought she saw Vetala¡¯s slit-framed eyes glint with discernible fear. Aim, lock, and: [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] 28. The Fallen Fortress 28. The Fallen Fortress [VISAGE Aspect: DREAMER] [MP Cost: 0] [Karma Cost: 100 ? per second] [Aspect Description: Channel the Aspect of the Dreamer to imbue the wielder with powers of affirmation. Convert all damage to Erudite type. Gain [Regen]. Gain 20% universal Mitigation. Increase Poise damage of all attacks by 10% per second of continuous channeling, up to a maximum of 300%.] *** [117!] The first tick was modest in damage, but it still elicited a muffled scream from inside the castle, as Vetala¡¯s eyes disappeared behind black flames. [182!] The damage ramped up, now buffed by both [Tribulation] and a percentage of Serac¡¯s missing HP. The screaming continued, as stone blocks fell away, allowing tongues of [Catharsis]¡¯s fire to shoot out of the castle wall. Looks like someone¡¯s trying to punch their way out of the driver¡¯s seat! [365!] The third tick coincided with one section of the wall collapsing altogether. The slit that once framed Vetala¡¯s eyes lost its shape to a cascade of burning rubble. Amidst the rubble fell a distinctly humanoid figure, one that flailed its arms at the flames all around itself as it dropped to the ground at speed. The figure hit the pink desert floor with a thud (along with a chunk of HP lost to fall damage), then fell limp. [Catharsis]¡¯s black flames also faded then, leaving behind only Vetala¡ªFerryman of the Desolation¡ªin his full, naked glory. He was a sorry sight. A pale, scrawny thing with knobby joints¡ªlike a shrunken, withered version of the Jailers of the Damnatorium. Speaking of Jailers¡­ Serac allowed herself the briefest of glances toward the castle¡¯s ramparts. To no one¡¯s surprise, Zacko had already taken the initiative to climb up the rubble and bring the fight to the javelin-chuckers, thus leaving the Rakshasa on the ground free to focus on the boss man. Vetala, for his part, made no effort to fight back as Serac shifted her aim to his person. Instead, he visibly cowered at her approach, covering his pale wrinkly head with his knobby hands, as if that could make him bulletproof. Had he already given up, or was this some kind of trick? It didn¡¯t much matter to Serac at this point, as there was little else to do other than empty the rest of the cylinder, cycling through the unimbued bullets before she could rearm Chamber One. [111!], [111!], [111!], [111!] Vetala-Ashvanaga¡¯s combined HP decremented by modest slices, yet the Ferryman only continued to shrink into himself. Is this how a Hellspawn boss is meant to behave? The sight of it¡ªand her own active role in this one-sided bullying¡ªdisturbed Serac to no end. Acting on a sudden, irrational impulse, she redirected the sixth and final shot, letting the bullet land harmlessly into the ground next to Vetala¡¯s head. Vetala didn¡¯t move an inch. And that was when Serac knew that this so-called boss hadn¡¯t just given up on the fight. Stripped of the absolute protection provided by his castle walls, Vetala had completely lost the will to live¡ªto suffer the endless toil of his hell-spawned and hell-bound existence. He was, quite literally, asking for the Wayfarer to finish him off. Oh boy, Serac mused grimly. This isn¡¯t just your regular Poise-break. I¡¯d go so far as to say this dude is Zen-broken. A lost cause. Through it all, Serac had continued to lose health to [Bleed]. [4!], [4!], [4!], ¡­ By now, her own red bar was at a size that made it difficult to estimate if enough HP remained for her to tank [Catharsis]¡¯s self-damage. Yet, by now, she also didn¡¯t much care. She just wanted to get this ¡®fight¡¯ over with. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [280!], [453!], [905!] -> [1638!] Whether Vetala was Poise- or Zen-broken, Pathsight¡¯s critical damage calculator cared naught for the distinction. This second round of [Catharsis] proved more than enough to strip away the rest of Vetala-Ashvanaga¡¯s HP. The Ferryman¡¯s scrawny figure dissolved into Souldust even before the black flames faded¡ªas if its occupant soul couldn¡¯t wait for the release of death. [GREATER ABERRANT SMITED] [Waystation Privilege awarded. Current charge: 1] [3120 ?], [112 ?] Serac¡¯s share of the smiting reward, as well as the bit of Karma she¡¯d lost to Vetala in the previous fight, flowed in together to bring her Liminal total to a cool [3724 ?]. She attuned to her health bar, and saw that only a barely detectable sliver of it still remained¡ªso little HP that a strong gust of wind could probably finish her off.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Out of a morbid sense of curiosity, she half-wanted to see what would happen to her Liminal Karma if she were to die right now. How would Pathsight account for a death caused by enemies who themselves were already dead? Alas, by then, the [Bleed] effect had run its course, which meant Serac would have to find some other way to conduct her experiment. She then shook her head vigorously, trying to rid herself of silly thoughts and a taste of victory embittered by Vetala¡¯s pathetic final moments. The important thing was that she and Zacko had won. Now, they could safely make their way back to Last Sorrow and ingrain the latest of their hard-earned¡ª Crreeeaaakkkk¡­ Serac looked up with alarm, suddenly and violently remembering just why she¡¯d fought this particular boss in the first place. Perhaps the blood loss had gotten to her after all. For the thought of Vetala¡¯s Infernal Steed and how it might hold the key to crossing the Fibrinous Canyon had completely slipped her mind. Yet, even now, the castle rose to its feet, Poise-mended. The razor-like teeth at its foundation churned anew, revving up to resume its delivery run across the desert. For unlike its castellan, Ashvanaga hadn¡¯t given up. It still remained very much in its physical (yet partially damaged) form, and it wouldn¡¯t stop until it got to its destination¡ªor until a pair of Wayfarers completed their attempted siege. ¡°Oh shit,¡± Serac murmured to herself, utterly caught off guard. ¡°Now what do we do?¡± As much as the Wayfarers had strategized about Poise-breaking Ashvanaga and taking advantage of Vetala¡¯s ¡®weak spot¡¯, they¡¯d spoken very little of what to do about winning a living castle over to their cause. For one thing, they couldn¡¯t rightly predict what would actually happen to Ashvanaga upon Vetala¡¯s death. For another, well, just how would anyone go about taming a castle, anyhow? ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand there!¡± Zacko¡¯s frantic yell snapped Serac out of her stupor. ¡°Hurry and get up here!¡± The Manusya, thanks to his earlier decision to deal directly with the Jailers, was already up on the ramparts, even as the castle rumbled to life beneath his feet. Serac, who frankly had no clue what else to do, hastened to obey. The climb itself proved to be no issue, as Zacko¡¯s [Hammer] along with Vetala¡¯s clumsy escape had left behind handholds and footholds aplenty. With her mind completely blank, Serac concentrated merely on taking things one move at a time. She got up to the ramparts and joined Zacko at the battlement on the rightmost corner. Even in her distracted state, she managed to appreciate the view that spread before her, as well as the wind that lapped at her battle-worn body. Having been born a Penitent rather than ferried to the Damnatorium later in life, this was her first time riding a vehicle of any kind (if one could ascribe such a term to a castle). The experience would have been almost pleasant, were it not for the little issue with the direction of travel. Now that she¡¯d had some time to sit with her new reality, Serac had taken the liberty to ¡®scan¡¯ the Vetala-less Ashvanaga using Pathsight. It now showed a slightly altered yet still unhelpful label of: [Designation: ASHVANAGA the Fallen Fortress] [Steed Class: INFERNAL] There was no HP bar to speak of, which was a feature this version of Ashvanaga now shared with the Rakshasas of Last Sorrow. Serac understood this to mean that Pathsight no longer viewed it as an appropriate subject for smiting, and she didn¡¯t want to find out what might happen if she tried to smite it anyway. ¡°So,¡± Zacko began their impromptu strategy session, too little too late, ¡°ideas?¡± ¡°I¡­ well¡­ do you think we could just¡­ ride it out? I mean, what else can we do?¡± ¡°Ride it out? You mean all the way back to the Damnatorium?¡± ¡°Well, yeah. If this thing¡¯s just trying to finish its job or whatever, wouldn¡¯t it eventually turn back around and go back over the Canyon? If we can somehow pick up the Sorrowers along the way¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to stop you right there. First, you want us to ride this thing to the Damnatorium, where we¡¯ll get surrounded by Jailers waiting for the delivery to come in. Don¡¯t forget that you¡¯re literally on your last breaths, and I¡¯m not in much better shape, either. Next, assuming we miraculously survive the drop-off and keep riding this back to the Canyon, you want the Sorrowers to just¡­ hop on? All thirty something of them? Without any forewarning or coordination? I kinda doubt you¡¯ve thought this one through¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s because I haven¡¯t thought it through!¡± Serac said hotly. ¡°You got a better idea?¡± ¡°I mean, it¡¯s obvious that we gotta find a way to control this thing. Take its reins, if you will. Failing that, we gotta at least bring it to a stop¡­ somehow¡­ without permanently breaking it.¡± ¡°I hope you realize you haven¡¯t said anything remotely useful. My thing might¡¯ve been dumb, but at least it was actionable. Something we could actually try.¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t get pissy with me. I¡¯m just trying to think it through, alright?¡± ¡°Well, think faster! Because this damn castle isn¡¯t slowing down anytime soon¡­¡± Zacko chose to ignore this latest outburst, which was just as well. Serac too had tired of the fruitless back-and-forth, and her light-headedness was getting worse and worse. ¡°What does Trippy think about this?¡± Serac raised an eyebrow at Zacko, genuinely taken aback. As far as she could tell, this was the first time the Manusya had actively sought out a sentient six-shooter¡¯s opinion. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± Zacko said, somehow managing his trademark smile despite his predicament. ¡°I admit I¡¯m out of ideas. And I wondered if your walking glossary might know something that we don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s worth a shot,¡± Serac said, somehow managing a noncommittal shrug despite her predicament. ¡°Trippy, have you been listening? Any sage words of advice? Hello? Trippy?¡± The ¡®Special Guidance Protocol¡¯, usually so quick and eager to help, remained silent for some time¡ªlong enough for Serac to wonder, along with a familiar tightening of her chest, if Trippy Version 2 had left her too. ¡°¡­ I wonder, Wayfarer, if I might be allowed to talk to it.¡± ¡°¡­ What?¡± ¡°What? What did he say?¡± Serac raised an index finger to shush Zacko, then turned away, as if doing so could let her better focus on the voice in her head. ¡°Can you say that again, Trippy? I¡¯m not sure I heard you right. You wanted to¡ª?¡± ¡°Talk to the Infernal Steed.¡± ¡°¡­ Talk how? You realize it¡¯s a castle, right?¡± ¡°¡­ I¡¯m not sure I entirely agree.¡± ¡°Wait, what? What is there to disagree about? You can see it for yourself, can¡¯t you? Even Pathsight calls it the Fallen For¡ª¡± ¡°Apologies, Wayfarer. I can¡¯t quite explain it myself, but¡­ would you let me try? I feel as though¡­ I know this soul. I know who Ashvanaga is.¡± 29. The Taming of Ashvanaga 29. The Taming of Ashvanaga The ¡®driver¡¯s seat¡¯ was nothing more than the blackened ruins of a claustrophobic crawlspace¡ªeven dingier than the solitary confinement cell in which Serac had spent so much of her time as a prisoner. To think that the Sorrowers had so feared the Ferryman, when Vetala had been but a lowly prisoner himself: a small soul confined to an even smaller space that had been his one and only refuge from the world around him. Now, not a trace of his ever being Ashvanaga¡¯s castellan remained, save for one half of a metallic chain that poked out of the foothold. Serac, having already folded herself to squeeze into the crawlspace, didn¡¯t have to do much bending to pick up the chain. She turned it over a few times to examine its molten and deformed end, then dropped it in short order, deciding that it was of no use. The connection between Ashvanaga and its previous handler had been severed for good, and now a new one needed to be forged. Forged with¡ªapparently¡ªwords borrowed from a sentient six-shooter. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re going to feed me lines, right? I just have to repeat what you say in my head?¡± ¡°Correct, Wayfarer. Though I hope you¡¯ll be patient and allow me to feel my way through this. As I said, I¡¯m acting on the vaguest of impulses I myself know not the origins of.¡± I think I might have some ideas about those origins, Serac thought, then said out loud, ¡°No sweat, Trippy. Let¡¯s just hope this works.¡± With that, Serac settled herself, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible within the confined space. In the end, she found that the best way to do this was to sit cross-legged in a meditative pose, though this still forced her to bend her back and strain her neck. ¡°Uh¡­ hey, Ashvanaga. It¡¯s ya girl Serac. Can you hear me?¡± No response. Unless you counted a castle continuing to rumble across the desert as a response. Absurdly, Serac found herself growing hot with embarrassment. She¡¯d never been a trained actor (obviously), and she knew her own delivery to be awkward and wooden. Somehow, she would¡¯ve preferred a jeering audience over an utterly indifferent one. ¡°Listen¡­ I thought we might, uh, catch up. Reminisce a little about the good old days. You remember them, don¡¯t you? Your journey from a previous life?¡± Even as she spoke the lines, Serac had to wonder about Trippy¡¯s approach. Journey from a previous life? We¡¯re talking to a castle here. Not sure how much journeying was ever on offer. And yet, as soon as she recited these words, she felt and heard the tumble of more stone debris upon the castle wall. It sounded¡­ almost like a sigh. At the same time, rocks and splintered wood fell around her, as the crawlspace itself lost more of its shape. Whether this was Ashvanaga acknowledging her invitation or simply the natural progression of a building mid-demolition, Serac was just thankful that she could now straighten her back, if only slightly. Through it all, the castle itself rumbled on without losing speed. ¡°We got into a few scrapes together, didn¡¯t we? Had our fair share of obstacles to overcome. Shapeshifters and demon lords. Haunted temples and treacherous mountains. And who could forget our crossing of the River of Blood? We most certainly couldn¡¯t have done that without you, Ashvanaga. You really put us on your back that time.¡± River of Blood? Now, why does that sound familiar? Serac was hit with yet another sensation that didn¡¯t fully belong to her. Drowning in a red, viscous medium. Weighed down by shackles both solid and fantastical. And the billowing body of a radiant creature, braving the dark waters to lift its companions to safety¡­ Was this another fragment of a life she¡¯d long lost, just like the mountains of her homeland? Or was it perhaps the memory of another soul altogether that now bled into and mixed with hers? In the physical world, more pieces of the castle fell apart, once more widening the space in which Serac sat. She could now sit up fully straight with room to spare, which was how she felt the first drops of something red and viscous fall onto her head. The sensation nearly startled her out of her quasi-meditative state. Soon, she was aware of more of the red liquid splashing onto her person at a steady drip. The castle was bleeding. As absurd a notion as that was, there was no denying its reality. And that surely counted as a ¡®response¡¯ and a sign of something shifting within Ashvanaga. Still, the castle rolled on. If anything, it picked up in velocity, as if it wanted to outrun the changes that were happening within its own inner sanctum. One more push, Trippy? ¡°Remember that river, Ashvanaga! Remember the temples and mountains. Remember our foes vanquished and bested¡ªand our friends treasured and lost. Remember our journey together, and through it, remember yourself and the heights you were destined for.¡± Crraaasssshhhhh¡­ Now, Serac was forced to break her concentration, grabbing onto the broken wall to stop herself from being thrown off the castle altogether. The entire structure now rocked violently in a localized earthquake, as more of the stone blocks that made up Ashvanaga¡¯s shell tumbled and slid by the wayside. Yet the castle galloped ever faster. Still in the direction of the Damnatorium. Its ever-rising speed was unsustainable, coming at the cost of structural integrity. The castle was breaking apart at the seams, and soon the whole thing would collapse, taking with it a pair of Wayfarers and a few dozen prospective Penitents trapped within.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The Wayfarers could ¡®survive¡¯ such a disaster, but the Penitents would not. And Serac wanted desperately to avoid adding that newest chapter to Ashvanaga¡¯s history of senseless bloodshed and unworthy domination, because she saw. She knew. She remembered. Serac Edin rose to her feet, back straight and shoulders squared. She stood with a noble bearing far above her station as a Penitent Rakshasa. When she spoke again, she did so with the voice of a revenant king¡ªfirm, resonant, and commanding. ¡°Innumerable lifetimes have passed since our last meeting, old friend, yet I never expected to find you in such a pathetic state.¡± The stones continued to fall, and the world marched on around a Rakshasa and her unruly Steed. The world marched on, yet time slowed and condensed into a singular point: one Ksana that overflowed with Kalpas¡¯ worth of memories and selves. ¡°What are you afraid of? What are you waiting for? What fading phantom holds you so fast to its tenuous creed? Did you not see your ¡®master¡¯ for the lowly charlatan that he was? Do you not realize that this world and its fabricated chains hold no true power over you?¡± Serac spoke with a ruler¡¯s compassion for her loyal subject. She cajoled with an adventurer¡¯s love for her long-lost friend. And she snarled with a rebel¡¯s savage contempt for her ally¡¯s moment of weakness. ¡°Rise, Ashvanaga. Rise and reclaim the power that is rightfully yours. Rise and break free of your false chains. Ride with me, and I will show you the world. In the name of our friendship and a promise yet unkept, I bid you rise now from the pits of hell and ride with me¡ªonce more into the heavens!¡± With a final, resounding crash, the castle ground to a halt. All was silent for some time, save for the pounding within a Rakshasa¡¯s chest and the drip-drop of a castle¡¯s lifeblood. Then, slowly but surely, the gears began to churn anew. The teeth at the castle¡¯s foundation spun, not to resume its blind march, but to idle in place¡ªready to respond at a moment¡¯s notice to the intents of its chosen master. And once again, Pathsight was first to the punch, ever abreast of the evolving statuses of its integrated populace. [Designation: SERAC EDIN] [Wayfarer Race: RAKSHASA] [DEIFIC Instrument: REVOLVER] [Auxiliary: PULVERIZER] [INFERNAL Steed: ASHVANAGA the Resurgent Fortress] ¡°O-ho!¡± The exclamation of surprise and relief that escaped Serac then was one entirely rooted in her hell bumpkin self, absent even a shred of the regality with which she¡¯d managed to tame a living castle. Well, to be fair, she hadn¡¯t done it alone. She had plenty of help from Trippy as well as this third entity that had suddenly popped out of the ether and possessed her body, mind, and soul. At least¡­ she had to assume it was a third entity. Because that couldn¡¯t have been herself, could it? As if in confirmation of the ¡®otherness¡¯ of the entity that had momentarily visited Serac, she could no longer feel their presence. Gone without a trace, just as abruptly as they¡¯d manifested. Gone with them too were the memories that had inspired their grandiose speech. And yet¡ª ¡°Ow!¡± This second exclamation was one that felt a lot more familiar to a Penitent Rakshasa. It was one of pain, of dread, and of subjugation. Serac reached for her forehead with a trembling hand and palpated around the roots of her horns. No iron, no filaments, no Circlet. Had she only imagined it? But if it¡¯d been only her imagination, how was it so¡ª ¡°Attention, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy suddenly cut in then, tone fully back to his baseline glossary self. ¡°Might I suggest that you check in with Pathsight again? I believe there¡¯s been another update.¡± Serac did so, with her anxieties momentarily papered over by curiosity. Indeed, Pathsight was trying to tell her something, and in a format she¡¯d rarely seen before. [REVOLVER Spell unlocked] [Chamber One: BLOOD FOR BLOOD] ¡°O-ho!¡± she exclaimed again, with her anxieties giving way completely to excitement. ¡°Does this mean¡ª? Did I just get a new imbuement for REVOLVER? But it says it¡¯s still for Chamber ¡®One¡¯, and I already have [Catharsis] for that.¡± ¡°Given that you acquired the spell from a Narakite entity, it follows that it will be Infernal in nature. I would hazard a guess that Chambers Two and beyond will come into play in the higher Realms.¡± ¡°¡®Narakite entity¡¯, huh,¡± Serac echoed, then made a face. ¡°Do you mean Vetala? Eugh. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I¡¯m not sure I want any of his powers.¡± ¡°Not Vetala,¡± Trippy corrected her, ¡°but Ashvanaga.¡± Serac did a double take, then looked about her expanded ¡®crawlspace¡¯ as if the castle¡¯s interiors could offer an explanation. In this case, funnily enough, they did. ¡°Ohhh, now I get it,¡± Serac said, eyeing the ¡®blood¡¯ that still dripped all around her¡ªand wondering if someone should maybe try to do something about it. ¡°The [Bleed] effect on the javelins¡­ That didn¡¯t come from Vetala. It was Ashvanaga¡¯s magic all along. It¡¯s the little castle that could!¡± And what couldn¡¯t her new castle do? It comfortably seats a few dozen souls or more. It¡¯s fast. It¡¯s built for defense. It can ride across the Fibrinous Canyon. On top of all that, it can also, uh, proc [Bleed]! Frankly, she couldn¡¯t have asked for a better Steed. Sublimity the Deva might have their armored dog, but Serac the Rakshasa now had her living castle! ¡°What will you do now, Wayfarer?¡± Trippy piped up again, evidently eager to keep his companion on task. ¡°What is your first destination on your new Steed?¡± ¡°Well, we obviously need to get back to Last Sorrow, pronto. Both Zacko and I could really do with a rest.¡± She then scanned her vicinity again, paying special attention to the debris that lay scattered about her and her new Steed. ¡°After that, we¡¯ll have to see about crossing the Canyon. But¡­ maybe not just crossing. I think I just got an idea that might be crazy enough to work. How¡¯s that sound to you, Ash?¡± She hadn¡¯t really expected a response. Not from a castle, and especially not after she¡¯d shortened its four-syllable name to one. To her surprise and delight, however, the walls around her shook slightly, along with an audible groaning of stone and wood. And even though Serac Edin didn¡¯t speak castle, on this occasion, she knew exactly what her friend wanted to say. 30. First Hope 30. First Hope [Designation: ASHVANAGA the Resurgent Fortress] [Steed Class: INFERNAL] [Anchored Realm: NARAKA (Base)] [Item Description: They say that if you build it, they will come. That certainly was the case with the ancient mobile fortress of Ashvanaga, which became the Rakshasa army¡¯s all-important rallying point during the Great Hellbreak War of the 16th Kalpa. But a hero¡¯s victory¡ªeven, or especially, that won with the sacrifice of countless allies¡ªis but another fleeting monument subject to the vagaries of time and history. What is heroic in one Kalpa may be the most heinous of sins in another. And even a mighty fortress could crumble beneath the weight of its own Penitent soul. Yet, it¡¯s also true that, sometimes, all a downtrodden soul needs to rise again is for another to come along and share its burden.] *** Now that Serac and Zacko had the means to get moving again, they¡­ took a few days to enjoy some R&R. It didn¡¯t take long for the new batch of would-be Penitents to integrate into the Last Sorrow community. Their see-saw transitions from freesouls to prisoners then back to freesouls had been so abrupt and brief that most were more bewildered than scared or despairing. A good chunk of them even knew some of the Sorrowers from their pre-Penitent days, which led to tearful reunions and good vibes all around. Sorrowers new and old gathered around the Hubstation¡¯s giant lotus flower, testing the cliffside cave¡¯s capacity limit to the max. They danced on callused feet and sang with parched throats¡ªa dramatic key change from the dour prayers that once filled this exact place. As much a fixture as Serac had become amongst the Sorrowers, she did find herself hanging back during these moments of communal jubilation. She couldn¡¯t help but feel a little out of place¡ªlike she hadn¡¯t earned her place among people who could call each other ¡®friend¡¯, ¡®lover¡¯, or ¡®family¡¯. And who could blame her? Up until recently, she¡¯d been a ¡®lifer¡¯¡ªin the most literal sense of the word. Yet, it was also during one of these intimate celebrations that a pair of revelers extricated themselves from the masses to seek Serac out. ¡°This is for you,¡± Indira the seamstress said shyly, one hand held out to present a small object to Serac, and the other hand wrapped tightly around Pazu¡¯s. ¡°We made it together.¡± ¡°Well, technically, I helped gather the materials, but Indira did most of the work.¡± Pazu wore a bashful smile as he said this, a lopsided one to match his healing horns. ¡°A keepsake. For you to remember all the good work you and Zacarias did here. May it bring you some luck on your journey ahead.¡± With apologies to Indira, it took Serac some time to decipher what the object was meant to be. But that was more to do with her own ignorance about the larger world than any shortcomings in the seamstress¡¯s skill. A little figurine, stuffed with the pink desert sand and wrapped in the translucent layer of a Flesh-fiend¡¯s molted skin. A pair of painted pebbles represented round eyes that looked a little too large for its face. It had four limbs like most creatures Serac knew, but it folded them in an exaggerated crouch that was unlike anything she¡ª ¡°Oh, I know what this is!¡± Serac exclaimed, overly delighted with her own ability to connect the dots. ¡°It¡¯s a frog, isn¡¯t it? Like the one in Ravi¡¯s story. Wow, this is really good, Indira!¡± She meant the compliment with all her heart¡ªand a little something extra. Before she knew it, she was forced to transfer the frog figurine to her PULVERIZER hand, just so she could reach up with her right hand and wipe her tears that flowed suddenly and freely. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry,¡± she gasped. ¡°I don¡¯t know why¡ªI¡¯ve never¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s alright.¡± Indira overcame her usual shyness (and PULVERIZER¡¯s craggy bulk) to bring Serac into a hug. Even Pazu put a tentative hand on the Wayfarer¡¯s shoulder, his eyes also showing a gleam that hadn¡¯t been there a second ago. Serac gave herself to the warm embrace and cried, loud and unabashed. I¡¯ve never received a gift before. That was what she¡¯d meant to say. That was why she¡¯d been so confused by her own tears. And that was also how she learned that a Rakshasa¡ªeven a Penitent lifer like herself¡ªcould cry for reasons other than pain or sorrow. Long after the couple took their leave, Serac stood staring at her gift with an irrepressible smile. The more she looked at it and held it in her hand, the more she loved it. It was, without a doubt, the greatest piece of art she¡¯d ever come across (granted, the competition was rather thin), and it seemed incredible that she got to own it, along with the right to pull it out and admire it anew anytime she wished. The thought warmed the heart. The thought was healing¡ªto soul, mind, and body. And she held this healing thought within her warmed heart as she clipped the pink frog figurine onto her belt, sliding around some of REVOLVER¡¯s cartridges to make room. [Trinket acquired: THE FROG IN THE WELL] [Realm of Origin: NARAKA]If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. [Trinket Description: Even though all frogs must one day brave the world outside their well, they can be forgiven for wanting something to remind them of where they started. While the trinket is equipped, its wearer is warmed by the thought of family and friendship, thereby gaining [Lesser Regen].] Serac froze, ¡®staring¡¯ wide-eyed at the new information that poured into her consciousness via Pathsight. But there was more. [Burden: 0/29 (Light) -> 15/29 (Medium)] [Poise: 70 -> 63 (Penalty)] [Wayfarer Status Effect: LESSER REGEN] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BURDENED] [TRIBULATION active: current buff at 5%] Okay, now this was a little too much for her to take in all at once. Luckily, she knew exactly who to turn to at times like these. ¡°Uh, Trippy? A little help?¡± ¡°What would you like to know?¡± ¡°Everything? Let¡¯s start with what a Trinket is, and how Froggy here came to be one.¡± ¡°Trinkets are the physical embodiments of a Wayfarer¡¯s connection with the Realms they travel through¡ªoften with the Anchored souls they befriend or otherwise interact with along the way. When worn on their person, a Trinket may confer a special benefit to the Wayfarer, but it also comes with the cost of adding [Burden].¡± ¡°Right¡­ and what does it mean exactly for me to be [Burdened]?¡± ¡°There are four categories of [Burdenedness] depending on how much your Trinkets count against your maximum allowable Burden¡ªnamely [Light], [Medium], [Heavy], and [Overburdened]. A [Light] status has no discernible effects on the Wayfarer, but to my knowledge, it¡¯s also very rare to find a Trinket so low-footprint that it wouldn¡¯t push you over the threshold into [Medium]. [Medium], of course, is the status in which all your actions come at a slightly increased Stamina cost. Your maximum Poise is also decreased, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noted. However, what I find most fascinating is that there are records of Trinkets that by themselves can counteract the penalties to Poise or Stamina expenditure, sometimes by a substantial enough amount to¡ª¡± ¡°Okay, okay, let¡¯s not get too bogged down in the details. But this is interesting, though. [Burden] counts as a negative status effect, eh? Which means I can keep at least one stack of [Tribulation] active at all times, as long as I keep a Trinket or two equipped. You also mentioned [Heavy] and [Overburdened]?¡± ¡°There¡¯s not much to say about them, other than that [Heavy] will incur a heavier penalty, and [Overburdened]¡ªa status achieved only by exceeding your maximum Burden¡ªeven more so. You may find on your journey that [Medium] strikes the most comfortable balance between cost and benefit, but I daresay you¡¯ll manage to run into situations where flirting with [Heavy] or even [Overburdened] might be the optimal play.¡± Serac nodded to herself, a bit more hesitantly than she might¡¯ve expected. Trippy¡¯s explanation had certainly addressed her most pressing questions, but it also seeded some new ones. Like, was Trippy Version 2 always this talkative? And this¡­ characterful? The snarky edgelord of yore he certainly wasn¡¯t, but he also wasn¡¯t the same bland automaton he¡¯d once been. Something about him had shifted¡ªmost noticeably since his latest contribution to taming a rampaging Infernal Steed¡­ Serac¡¯s attention shifted then, from the newly received gift that so warmed her heart to an old fear that still managed to chill her to the bone. Her hand reached for her face again, subconsciously, this time to feel around her skull in a circumference¡ªat the site of her erstwhile Circlet. It was still as not-there-anymore as the day Trippy Version 1 had taken it with him, along with his Shriven self, and yet¡ª A particularly loud cheer went up from around the Hubstation, and Serac quickly put her hand down as if she¡¯d been caught stealing. She looked up and saw dancing and laughing Sorrowers, even more energetic than they¡¯d been a minute ago. It seemed as though something monumentally exciting had come to pass, but she hadn¡¯t paid enough attention to know what that was. That was when a tall, muscular figure separated from the reveling masses and joined her by the cave¡¯s entrance. Zacko the Manusya had shown no qualms about inserting himself into the Sorrowers¡¯ reunions and celebrations, which was especially noteworthy given his disastrous ¡®introductions¡¯ just a few weeks ago. He was, not for nothing, a self-proclaimed ¡®man of the people¡¯. Presently, he chose to grace Serac with his in-demand presence. ¡°What are you standing here all by yourself for?¡± he mocked with his usual smirk. ¡°Don¡¯t you know that a hero¡¯s farewell party isn¡¯t complete without, you know, the hero herself?¡± ¡°Was attending to some important Wayfarer business here, thanks very much,¡± she replied with false sanctimony, ¡°but I am curious now. What¡¯s everyone cheering about?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear the big announcement? A vote¡¯s been passed, and this place is getting a new name.¡± ¡°This place¡­ you mean Last Sorrow? What are we changing it to?¡± ¡°First Hope.¡± Serac stared at Zacko. He merely smiled and shrugged. ¡°A bit corny and too on-the-nose,¡± Serac offered her honest review, then her face too broke into a wide grin. ¡°I love it!¡± ¡°I thought you would. It was Pazu¡¯s idea, if you can believe it.¡± ¡°I believe it. Guy¡¯s come a long way since his head-bashing days.¡± ¡°Yup, and wouldn¡¯t you know it? All brother needed to get out of his funk was to get laid.¡± Serac punched Zacko in the arm (non-PULVERIZER version). He merely winked and laughed. ¡°What about you?¡± she asked in a softer tone, drawn in as she was by the celebration in the air. ¡°Have you been humbled by your experiences here at the Settlement Formerly Known as Last Sorrow? Or have you become even smugger than before?¡± ¡°Oh, you know me, Serac. I¡¯ll never let little things like life lessons and new friendships affect the size of my ego. All I can say is I¡¯ve taught these people well (of course), and I can look forward to a steady stream of Secondary Transfer for a while to come.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re gonna need it,¡± Serac said, a little more sincerely and gratefully than she might¡¯ve expected, ¡°after that stunt with VISAGE.¡± Zacko merely smiled and shrugged. ¡°Come on,¡± he said, giving Serac a light nudge, ¡°I really insist that you join us. We¡¯re Wayfarers, which means we never know what tomorrow might bring. You owe it to yourself to enjoy nights like tonight, while you still can.¡± 31. Blood Under the Bridge 31. Blood Under the Bridge As a frog readied to leap out of her well, she was blindsided by the news that not all of her well-mates intended to join her. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not coming?¡± she asked incredulously of Ravi the elder, who¡¯d joined the departing group by the cliff edge but only to see them off. ¡°I admit that I¡¯ve wanted to leave this place for as long as I can remember,¡± he said as his whited eyes crinkled into a warm smile, ¡°but it was in fact you, Serac Edin, that changed my mind. After you shared your plans of building a bridge over the Canyon.¡± It was true. Not content with simply ferrying a group of Penitents back to the mainland, Serac had come up with a permanent solution to the natural barrier that was the Fibrinous Canyon. In fact, much of the last several days here had been spent testing her theory and laying down the first portion of the bridge, so she knew the project would work. She just couldn¡¯t see why Ravi had to stay behind because of it. ¡°The new bridge would mean that First Hope becomes a hub, in the truest sense of the word,¡± the old man explained patiently. ¡°For escaped Penitents, this would be their first port of call before rejoining the mainland. And for anyone else foolish or brave enough to cross over of their own volition¡ªwhether to explore, to test themselves, or perhaps one day to lay siege upon the Damnatorium¡ªFirst Hope and its great lotus will be a place of rest, assembly, and communion. A rallying point, if you will.¡± ¡°If you build it, they will come¡­¡± Serac murmured, recalling something from a recent reading material. ¡°Precisely.¡± Ravi nodded. ¡°Which also means that¡­ someone ought to remain and watch over this place. To guide any lost souls who may wander through. To ensure that the great lotus never loses its pure luster. And to protect your bridge from enemies both natural and Aberrant.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± one of the younger Rakshasas chimed in. Serac recognized him as the oddball who liked to write using his own blood. ¡°Ravi isn¡¯t the only one staying behind. We need some muscle around here¡ªto fight off any Hellspawns who might get funny ideas. Besides, with the lot of you gone, this place will be a lot quieter. Maybe I could finally finish my novel then¡­¡± Serac didn¡¯t have high hopes for the novel, but she couldn¡¯t fault the man for his sincerity. The would-be writer was soon joined by a dozen or so young men and women who¡¯d pledged their allegiance to First Hope as its permanent population. The Wayfarer couldn¡¯t help but smile with bemusement as she inspected this ragtag army of fellow Rakshasas. They weren¡¯t exactly what she¡¯d describe as ¡®muscle¡¯ (not that Serac was one to talk), but every one of them bared their claws and wore their horns proudly. They could be counted on to defend her bridge¡ªand they¡¯d also be good value as a ready-made source for Zacko¡¯s Secondary Transfer. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re so sure,¡± Serac turned to Ravi and held out a hand, a little sad but also plenty glad, ¡°I leave First Hope in your capable hands. Just know that the bridge will be here if you need it. In case, you know, things get a little too stuffy here.¡± ¡°Do not worry about me, Wayfarer.¡± Ravi took her hand with both of his and squeezed it with surprising strength. ¡°But will you allow this old man to give you one last parting advice?¡± So white hot was Ravi¡¯s gaze that Serac¡¯s first reaction was to shrink back from it. But here was a man who was the closest thing to a wise grandpa she¡¯d ever had, and even a bumpkin like her knew that there was much a youngling could learn from her elders. She nodded. ¡°Whenever you think you¡¯ve reached the end of your journey¡­ whenever you grow weary of the challenges or believe yourself incapable of overcoming them¡­ know that there is always a way forward. Finding that solution may require a detour, or it may sit right under your nose. However you go about it, you mustn¡¯t give up. The world needs a Serac Edin or two to storm through its midst on occasion¡­ and right now, you need to experience that world for yourself.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Serac was momentarily left speechless. It wasn¡¯t so much Ravi¡¯s words as the ferocity and urgency with which he spoke them¡ªone Rakshasa to another¡ªthat had taken her aback. In the end, she settled for, ¡°Thank you. And don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t give up that easily. I¡¯m in it now, so might as well see it through to the end, right?¡± The casual, almost deflective lightness of her words belied a deep-seated determination¡ªone Serac herself wasn¡¯t fully conscious of. For unbeknownst even to her, this Wayfaring business of ¡®ascending the Six Realms¡¯ had taken on a rather personal significance. In her heart of hearts, Serac knew. She knew that the peak of Mount Meru hid a truth that was core to her being¡ªthe ticket to a home that had been taken from her before she was even born. On a side note, Devalem was also where she¡¯d find the asshole who owed her exactly [904 ?] in Liminal Karma.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. *** It took Serac, Zacko, and their Hoper helpers the better part of a day to finish building the bridge. The hardest part wasn¡¯t the labor but the organization. Too many eager bodies tripping over themselves to contribute. In the end, Zacko¡ªman of the people¡ªproved the most capable of directing traffic and assigning discrete roles. Under the Manusya¡¯s supervision, the group formed a kind of assembly line. One team to lay down the stone blocks, carefully as not to get caught by the Fibrin web. A second team to form two lines and transport the blocks, passing them from hand to hand. And a third team to harvest the construction material from Ashvanaga¡¯s castle body. Yes. This was Serac¡¯s grand idea, hatched from the sight of fallen debris left in the wake of their epic battle. Gruesome was one way to put it. Downright cruel was another. But she¡¯d made sure to obtain Ash¡¯s informed consent (in the form of a loud and enthusiastic crreeaakkk¡­) before starting the demolition work. Because, as it turned out, it was Ash¡¯s blood that contained the anti-Fibrin properties needed to traverse the Canyon floor. The mechanical churning of its teeth certainly helped with forward motion, but it¡¯d always relied on the magic inherent in its own lifeblood to disrupt the Fibrin webs¡¯ integrity and prevent their constant reshaping. Gruesome was one way to put it. Downright horrifying was another, but it was also very much on-theme for an ¡®Infernal¡¯ Steed and its hellish origins. In any case, the castle itself was more than happy to go along with its new master¡¯s plan, even if it meant ¡®shrinking¡¯ to a fraction of its original size. Before all was said and done, Ash was reduced to a single battlement, a ¡®cabin¡¯ just big enough to seat a pair of Wayfarers and perhaps several guests, and a storage compartment to hold odds and ends. Her Steed¡¯s newly compact size suited Serac¡¯s needs just fine. If anything, she preferred it this way, as rumbling around everywhere inside a massive castle seemed neither practical nor desirable. And if ever she wanted her mobile fortress to be fortress-sized again? Well, in that scenario, she¡¯d likely have the manpower already on hand to help her rebuild Ashvanaga anew. After the bridge was finished, the Wayfarers and the Hopers faced one last obstacle in the form of a Hellspawn ambush. A swarm of Flesh-fiends had gathered, no doubt enticed by the thick scent of living flesh. This time, Serac and Zacko couldn¡¯t rely on ¡®divine intervention¡¯ in the form of a KL-185 Deva¡¯s deadly AOE attack. Instead, they turned once more to Ashvanaga and its bag of tricks. It shouldn¡¯t have come as a surprise that the castle and its javelins were a package deal. So, as a swarm of Fiends converged on their location, Zacko climbed onto the battlement to act as a turret while Serac picked off the stragglers from ground level. The defensive weapons¡ªcoated with more of Ash¡¯s magic¡ªwere well-suited to the task. The damage from a single hit ([180!]) wasn¡¯t nearly enough to be lethal, but the javelins themselves, when angled just right, could pin the Fiends in place, where they either [Bled] to death or waited to be finished off by Serac¡¯s REVOLVER shots. In the end, the run-in with the Fiends served as another nice boost to Karma as well as a testing ground for Ash¡¯s mobile defense capabilities. A productive if rather resource-intensive way to start off life on the far side of the Sanzu River. With the landing spot secured, the Wayfarers waited for the departing Hopers to finish crossing on foot. Then it was time for a final round of hugs, handshakes, and farewells. The area immediately next to the Canyon was more pink desert, much like the one they¡¯d just left behind. But if Serac scanned the horizon, she could see rolling hills to the east and steep mountain peaks to the northwest. As a frog that¡¯d just taken her first leap, she didn¡¯t know much if anything about the world outside her well. But if she knew anything about climbing, it was that she needed to find the highest place and get there. Which likely meant¡ª ¡°To the east are the Reticence Fields,¡± Pazu, who¡¯d become something of a second leader figure among the Hopers, now took on the role of spokesperson. ¡°It¡¯s the part of the mainland where Hellspawn activity is sparsest. Naturally, that¡¯s where we¡¯re headed. Some of us have family there. Others will look to build something new. I hear there¡¯s a group who¡¯re in the midst of founding a whole city. Can you imagine that? A sanctuary in hell: somewhere for us Rakshasas to live out our days in peace¡ªor perhaps even prosperity, if we dare to dream it.¡± ¡°Well, you better get dreaming then!¡± Serac punched her fellow Rakshasa in the arm, though much lighter than she would¡¯ve with Zacko. Then she found herself frowning, at least briefly, as she searched for the right word for what she wanted to express. ¡°Wherever you go, I hope you find contentment there. You, Indira, and everyone else.¡± ¡°But don¡¯t get too content,¡± Zacko deadpanned without missing a beat, ¡°especially not until you can throw a decent punch or two.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to keep practicing, master,¡± Pazu said with a smile and a mock bow, then turned serious again as he asked, ¡°Where will you go, Wayfarers? Did you have a destination in mind?¡± At this, as if in unspoken agreement, both Serac and Zacko turned and nodded toward the mountain peaks. ¡°I don¡¯t have a name for our destination,¡± Serac said, ¡°but it¡¯s probably somewhere over yonder.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Zacko agreed. ¡°Somewhere over yonder looks like it could be the highest point in all of Naraka. That probably is where we need to go.¡± Pazu nodded with grim understanding. ¡°The Bonespires. I don¡¯t envy you and your Wayfaring ambitions. We¡¯ve all heard the horror stories about the evil creatures that roam the northern peaks. And before you even reach the Spires, you first have the Badlands to contend with.¡± Serac and Zacko exchanged a look. His was a sardonic smile with one eyebrow raised. Hers was a grin of blazing excitement. ¡°Well,¡± Serac said with an earnest shrug, ¡°we¡¯re Wayfarers. We can take it.¡± 32. [INTERLUDE] His Sisters Keeper 32. [INTERLUDE] His Sister''s Keeper Vrata of the Reticent Tribe had lost count of how many days he¡¯d spent in the mountains. His sense of time had become as numb as the hardened skin on his fingers¡ªfingers that trembled as they clung to the side of the tallest peak amidst the Bonespires. By now, the ¡®Bone Blight¡¯ had well and truly set in¡ªdespite the protection offered by his sister¡¯s amulet¡ªand soon, he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about holding onto the rocks for dear life. For once he was set in Bone, his body would become a permanent fixture upon the slopes¡ªwhile his soul would no longer require the anchor of his physical form. And as much as he was tempted to release himself from the pains of his undertaking, he couldn¡¯t. Not just yet. Not until he found Meetra. And not until her amulet was safely back in her hands, where it belonged. So, even as he was buffeted by harsh winds and pelted by dense clouds of bone dust, and even as his whole body became gradually saturated by Bone Blight, Vrata of the Reticent Tribe climbed on. He willed his numb fingers to hold on. He pushed his faltering limbs up the slopes. He didn¡¯t know for how many days he¡¯d been on the mountain, but he¡¯d climb on for as many more days as he needed to¡ªor until he could no longer continue, in body or soul. Vrata climbed on, growing number and slower by the minute. Yet, at last, his fingers touched upon something other than the craggy rocks of the Bonespire slopes. Or rather, they whiffed upon stale, indoor air. One last push, and he saw it. A crack upon the slopes, one large enough for an emaciated Rakshasa to squeeze through. Even though Vrata had been looking for this opening, he couldn¡¯t quite believe that he¡¯d actually found it. It was the stuff of wild speculation and unsubstantiated rumors. It was also the one and only way for an uninvited guest to sneak into the Ossuary¡ªand thereby access the Bone Lord¡¯s inner sanctum. Vrata used up some more of his barely remaining strength to clamber onto the ledge and crawl through the crack. He then felt immediate relief, in the form of warmer air that was all but free of bone dust. The relief was so strong that he was nearly tempted to stop and allow himself a moment of rest. But no. He had to keep going. His Bone Blight was too far gone, and it¡¯d surely progress even in the absence of fresh dust deposits. Time was of the essence if he had any hope of finding his sister before the last of his strength drained away. The ¡®entrance¡¯ had led into a small room, roughly conical in shape. Every inch of its walls was lined with desiccated bones of all manner of description: onyx skulls, femurs, pelves, and even some that were much paler in color, so much so that they were nearly white. Which clearly meant that some of these bones hadn¡¯t belonged to Rakshasas. Despite the urgency of his mission, Vrata couldn¡¯t help but stand a while and gape at the bizarre architecture. It was rare enough for any soul in Naraka to leave physical remains, but to then have an entire palace built from skeleton parts! It was the kind of madness and genius made only possible by magic as powerful as that of the Bone Lord¡¯s. The room itself appeared to serve no discernible purpose, unless you counted displaying ¡®trophies¡¯ as one. Indeed, nearly the entirety of its floorspace was filled with statues of Rakshasas in various poses and facial expressions. Agony, horror, remorse, relief. These were the emotions felt by these souls in their final moments, to be then encased and immortalized in Bone. Unlike with the skeleton walls, Vrata had seen his fair share of these Bone Husks¡ªthough never in such numbers and density. He nevertheless used some more of his failing strength to snake through their midst, giving each of the Husks as wide a berth as he could manage, lest he taint their memories with the stains of his own suffering. The room contained a seam within its skeleton walls that might¡¯ve passed for a ¡®door¡¯. Faint, orange light seeped out of this seam, which was how Vrata could see anything at all. Presently, he limped towards this light source, hurrying to get his search underway, then stopped when he heard a voice. ¡°¡ªreports have come in from the Bhootas stationed near the Basin. They claim that someone¡¯s built a bridge over the Fibrinous Canyon.¡± Vrata killed his own breath and listened. The speaker was a woman, but her voice contained the tell-tale roughness of advancing age. Not Meetra. ¡°There¡¯s even talk of a new Wayfarer that emerged from the Damnatorium. Two of them, in fact. I normally wouldn¡¯t trouble My Lord with the fanciful ramblings of Bhootas, but this particular story seemed too outlandish even by their standards. I thought it best that you at least¡ª¡± ¡°The Bhootas speak the truth.¡± Vrata swallowed, as quietly as he could. This second speaker was a male, one who possessed a deep, sonorous voice that resounded across the entirety of Vrata¡¯s battered body¡ªand reverberated within the depths of his tired bones. It was his first time hearing this voice. His first time in its malevolent presence. Yet, he was certain¡ªinstantly and absolutely¡ªto whom this voice belonged. ¡°I myself felt the shapes of these so-called Wayfarers,¡± the Bone Lord continued, ¡°and despite their humble beginnings, I¡¯d venture to say they¡¯ve got a pep in their steps and a bold manner about them that warrant¡­ closer inspection. It is, after all, my duty to take measures of these things.¡± ¡°Then allow me to act as your eyes and ears, My Lord,¡± a third voice¡ªfemale, young¡ªchimed in, ¡°as well as your hands, if it should come to that.¡± Vrata squeezed his fist and dug his claws into his numb palm. He then brought the same fist up to his mouth and bit it¡ªviolently, until he broke skin. Until he tasted a mixture of blood and Bone.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. And still, he¡¯d barely contained the gasp that had nearly escaped his throat. Almost no pain was enough to kill his anguish then. For this third voice¡ªthe one that had so swiftly and eagerly offered aid to the Bone Lord¡ªbelonged to none other than Meetra. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± the Bone Lord replied. ¡°I¡¯ve a mind to meet these souls myself. A little greeting of sorts¡­ and maybe even some guidance to point them in the right direction.¡± ¡°¡­ Are you certain, my Lord?¡± Meetra again. Unmistakable. ¡°Know that I¡¯m ever ready to serve your needs, in whatever shape or form you require of me. I¡¯m ready to¡ª¡± ¡°And you shall serve me, maiden, when I have need of eyes, ears, and hands. Do not presume to fret on my behalf. Or do you deem me a poor judge of when and how I should use my tools?¡± ¡°Of course not, My Lord. Forgive me, I misspoke.¡± Vrata was lightheaded, and not just because of his failing health. He staggered and nearly bumped into a Husk behind him, before he managed to stand his ground and force himself to stay present. His sister Meetra, formerly of the Reticent Tribe¡ªuntil she became a Wayfarer and set off on her journey across the Reticence Fields, through the Badlands of central Naraka, and onto the Bonespires to the north. Vrata, perhaps more than the other Tribesmen, had been sad to see her go. But he¡¯d also been prouder than anyone else. His little sister. Recognized by the gods above to have what it took to change her lot in the afterlife. To ascend to higher Realms and leave this hell behind. To escape the absolute dominion of the Bone Lord himself. Hot tears blurred Vrata¡¯s vision and warmed his dusty cheeks. His other hand reached for the amulet around his neck and squeezed it. Despite the numbness of his fingers, he knew every curve and groove upon the bloodstone cameo. How could he not? He¡¯d carved it himself, had given it to Meetra as a parting gift. Such that it could be a magical Trinket to protect her on the road. To protect her from the Bone Lord¡¯s omnipresent magic. That was also why his pride had turned to fear and desperation one fateful morning, as he found this very Trinket again, abandoned inside one of the many hollows that dotted the central Badlands. Its chain had been severed and its wearer nowhere to be seen. And he knew then what he must do. The other Tribesmen tried to stop him, of course. How could he, an Anchored soul with no discernible power to his name, hope to cross the most hellish parts of Naraka alone, when even his Wayfarer sister had succumbed to the dangers on the road? And they were right to stop him, even if it was in vain. For his sister was in trouble. That was the only reason Vrata needed to brave an impossible mission. The only reason he¡¯d ever needed to do anything foolish or beyond his means. And his foolish, impossible mission had led him all the way here, unto the very chamber where the Bone Lord discussed the latest goings-on in his kingdom with his loyal servants. With his sister¡ªWayfarer turned servant to the very being she was meant to defy. The last of Vrata¡¯s strength was fading, but that wasn¡¯t why he couldn¡¯t take another step. That wasn¡¯t why his frozen hands refused to reach for the seam upon the skeleton wall. The voices on the other side of the wall ceased their discussions. Two sets of footsteps could be heard fading into the distance. Which left at least one soul who¡ª The skeleton wall suddenly burst open at the seam, flooding orange light into Vrata¡¯s hiding place. His vision was first blinded by the light, only to quickly settle on the lone figure that stood at the open door. It was Meetra. Instantly recognizable despite the strangeness of her attire: flowing blood-red robe, flesh-forged armor, and a new amulet around her neck¡ªone of linked skeleton parts rather than a bloodstone cameo. Meetra reached for a sword around her waist, then froze. Her eyes¡ªas bright as they¡¯d been on the day she¡¯d set off on her journey¡ªwidened in shock as she whispered. ¡°Vrata? What¡­ what are you doing here? How did you¡ª?¡± Vrata was lost for words. Or, even if he had words, his throat was too dry to speak them. With a violently trembling hand, he grabbed the chain around his neck and held the amulet out toward its rightful owner. Meetra saw the Trinket. Realized what it meant. Then, her face fell. ¡°Damn the gods, Vrata,¡± she cursed under her breath, ¡°you came here¡­ just to give me this? How could you be so¡ª¡± ¡°Meetra?¡± The voice was deep and sonorous, and as loud as if it¡¯d been spoken right next to the Rakshasa siblings¡¯ heads. Vrata looked about him in a wild panic. He hadn¡¯t heard footsteps approach, and even now, there was no sign of anyone else nearby. Yet, when the voice spoke again, it shook every bone in Vrata¡¯s body all the same. ¡°Meetra,¡± the Bone Lord repeated. ¡°Who are you speaking to? Did I have a guest I wasn¡¯t made aware of?¡± For a fraught Ksana or two, Meetra didn¡¯t move a single muscle. She still had her back turned to the larger chamber, and her youthful face contorted in something that almost approached pain as she stared at the trembling, silent man before her. Then she let out the smallest of sighs¡ªone of decision and resolve. ¡°Apologies, My Lord. It appears that a lost soul has wandered into our midst, uninvited and without cause. Do you wish for me to deal with him?¡± Vrata could help it no longer. A muffled whimper escaped through the cracks of his bloodied teeth. He looked to his sister with pleading eyes, and was met only by an impassive mask. ¡°Don¡¯t be so rude, my maiden. Show him in, why don¡¯t you? Uninvited or no, any king worth his salt should always make time for his vassals.¡± Meetra relaxed her posture and turned slightly, letting more of the orange light shine upon Vrata and the room-ful of Husks behind him. She then beckoned, with a brief, almost dismissive flick of her chin. Vrata turned and ran. He blinked away the tears that blurred his vision. He pushed his failing muscles to make one last dash, back toward the hole through which he¡¯d foolishly crawled to his own demise. He bounced against the Bone Husk statues¡ªknocking some of them to the floor as he did¡ªuncaring to whose frozen moments of suffering he joined his own pain, fears, and regrets. Through it all, he¡¯d held with one hand the chain around his neck. And it was with this hand that he reached through the hole first, as if¡ªby thrusting the Trinket before him¡ªhe could stave off the inevitable. The chain severed then, and the bloodstone cameo dangled in the open air, now buffeted by bone-storm but freed from sharing the fate of its wearer. And that was how Vrata of the Reticent Tribe met his end. As his pain, fears, and regrets were encased and immortalized in Bone¡ªand as a bloodstone cameo slipped from his lifeless fingers and tumbled down the mountain slopes¡ªthe last image he held in his soul was that of a young Rakshasa Wayfarer, setting her bright-eyed sights upon possibilities untested and heights unknown. 33. Ash the Portable Fortress 33. Ash the Portable Fortress The bloody Flesh-fiend hunt had been good, wholesome fun. But, in its aftermath, Serac was left with a problem that was causing her a far worse headache than it was worth. ¡°Explain to me why I can¡¯t just drop the Waystation inside Ash itself.¡± ¡°The Waystation¡¯s function is to set down persistent markers of a Wayfarer¡¯s progress through the Realms. It can¡¯t act as a ¡®marker¡¯ if it constantly shifts along with a Steed¡¯s movement. As such, Pathsight has implemented an ¡®immotility¡¯ feature to its Waystations, in order to prevent the kind of cheating you¡¯re suggest¡ª¡± ¡°Who said anything about cheating? I¡¯m just trying to think on my feet here. I thought it was a good idea, anyway. Wouldn¡¯t you agree, Zacko?¡± Despite Serac¡¯s pointed question, the Manusya barely stirred from his nap, leaning his head against one wall of the cabin that had quickly become ¡®Zacko¡¯s Corner¡¯. It was a wonder that he could sleep at all, given how badly Ash was shaking and bouncing as it tried to navigate the great outdoors. The traveling party had come upon what Pazu had called the Badlands, a vast stretch of uneven terrain that alternated erratically from eroded hills to deep gullies to otherwise bumpy rock formations. Supposedly, this was what took up almost the entirety of central Naraka, which meant the Wayfarers¡ªat least Serac, anyway¡ªcould look forward to many more days of sore bums and motion sickness. It was ¡®Bad¡¯ enough to make a girl wish she¡¯d had a flying dog for a Steed instead of a living castle. Which was a terrible thought to have, of course, and Serac dispelled it with a firm shake of her head. Ash was perfect the way it was, and she¡¯d love and cherish her little castle through all the bumps on the road. Along with this remedial thought, Serac gave Ash¡¯s steering wheel an affectionate pat¡ªthe ¡®steering wheel¡¯ being a wooden contraption the Hopers had helped install, more to keep the Wayfarers occupied while cooped up inside their cabin rather than serving any practical purpose. ¡°Speaking of Ashvanaga, that¡¯s another good reason to keep a Waystation and a Steed as separate entities.¡± Trippy had recently picked up the bad habit of his former self, that of dispensing with any pretense of privacy. ¡°How else would you carry Ashvanaga around in its portable form?¡± It took Serac a hot minute to process what Trippy had just said. She had to make sure she heard him correctly because, if she weren¡¯t mistaken, he¡¯d just revealed something of life-altering importance. ¡°Did you just say ¡®portable form¡¯¡­ in reference to Ashvanaga the living castle?¡± ¡°I did.¡± ¡°Elaborate. Right now. And spare no details.¡± ¡°Portable form. It¡¯s exactly what it means, Serac Edin. All Steeds, once tethered to a Wayfarer, takes on the ability to transform into a much smaller version of itself that could then be carried on a Wayfarer¡¯s person. Think of it as a convenient byproduct of its transmutation.¡± ¡°Okay, you are blowing my mind right now. But I still gotta ask, why would I want to carry Ash instead of the other way around? I mean the whole point of a Steed is so I can ride around everywhere instead of¡ª¡± That was when a particularly gnarly bump sent the whole party flying. Ash stayed suspended in air for far longer than was healthy for a living castle. As it finally made its freefalling descent, Serac felt her stomach drop, a sensation she¡¯d not had since her turn with ¡®the Falling Chair¡¯ back in the Damnatorium. The castle then crash-landed at the edge of a gully, from which it tipped over and fell once more, roof-first this time, onto the bottom of the hollow. ¡°Couldn¡¯t think of a better way to wake me up, huh?¡± Serac paid Zacko¡¯s grumblings no mind as she herself tried to pick up the pieces of her upside-down self. It took some effort to push herself into an upright sitting position. And when she did, she sensed right away that the same correction for her castle would be no small task. ¡°Ash?¡± she called out, fully confident that she¡¯d get a ¡®response¡¯. ¡°You okay, bud? Think you¡¯re right to stand back up on your own?¡± Grraaawwww¡­ That was a ¡®no¡¯ in castle-speak. Welp. So much for riding around everywhere. ¡°Does this answer your question, Wayfarer?¡± Trippy again. Was that¡­ snark in his tone? Surely not. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get it. Is this part of the tutorial where you show me how to transform my Steed?¡± ¡°I¡¯d suggest for both you and Zacarias Borges-Juventus to step out first¡­ unless you wish to be reconstituted all the way back in First Hope.¡± Okay, that had got to be a deliberately snarky one-liner! Certainly not as mean-spirited as Version 1¡¯s brand of sarcasm, but it was becoming harder and harder for Serac to pretend that this new Trippy wasn¡¯t developing some kind of¡­ personality if not outright identity. And, if she were honest, she wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about that. Serac absent-mindedly reached up and touched a bump behind her right ear, one that felt a little more prominent than she could remember. The ¡®change¡¯, if there had been one at all, was subtle enough that she could still convince herself that it was all in her head.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Outside, Serac and Zacko first took a moment to inspect the damage. Night had fallen by then, which cast the whole place in a maroonish gloom. There was also a thin cloud of something fine and pale¡ªsome kind of dust particle¡ªthat floated in the air and obscured the Wayfarer¡¯s vision. ¡°I could maybe knock it over again with [Pauldron],¡± Zacko suggested. ¡°Want me to try?¡± ¡°No!¡± Serac yelled hastily, and with no little indignation. ¡°How could you even think of treating Ash like that? Would you do that to your own Steed?¡± ¡°I honestly wouldn¡¯t know,¡± Zacko said, scratching his bearded chin. ¡°Back in Manesfera, the closest thing we had to Steeds were cars. And I¡¯m not one of those weirdos who treat their modes of transportation like a second spouse.¡± ¡°Cars? What¡¯s that?¡± Zacko considered for a moment, then said, ¡°They¡¯re like Ash, except made of metal and stinking of gas instead of blood.¡± ¡°Gas? Eww. You better not fill Ash up with your stinky gas!¡± Serac hadn¡¯t meant it as a joke, but Zacko laughed anyway. ¡°Not that kind of gas, but duly noted, princess.¡± Serac still didn¡¯t see what was funny, but decided she had more pressing matters to attend to. If she hadn¡¯t imagined it, the cloud of pale ¡®dust¡¯ had thickened somewhat, and that seemed to be accompanied by an unpleasant sensation¡ªalmost as if the air itself was clinging onto her body. She wanted to sort Ash out and move on from here, as soon as possible. ¡°Alright, Trippy, since this Manusya knows nothing about Steeds, you¡¯re up again. What do I do about Ash?¡± ¡°Simple, Wayfarer. Another mental exercise, much like the one you use to meditate. This time, imagine Ashvanaga in its Interstitial form, that is, the aggregate of the Souldust that makes up what it is. Next, conjure up the image of a much smaller object, one that would be amenable to accompanying you on foot, then visualize the whole of Ashvanaga¡¯s Interstitial form transferring and fitting into that object. It might help to maintain skin-to-castle contact for optimal results.¡± ¡°So, in other words, the contents of a big water balloon flowing out and squeezing into a much smaller one?¡± ¡°¡­ If you say so, Serac Edin. But I would¡¯ve thought you would require an analogy that¡¯s more closely rooted in your own experience.¡± Serac blinked. Trippy was right, of course, and she recalled that her own off-hand comment had been rooted in a conversation with a different disembodied voice. Nothing since had changed with regards to her knowledge of water balloons, so she¡¯d do better to find a handier analogy. Something that could accompany me while I¡¯m on foot¡­ like a Trinket? Speaking of, Froggy is an example of a small ¡®container¡¯ stuffed full of particles, isn¡¯t it? Pink desert sand wrapped in Fiend skin? Hm, maybe this could work¡­ Serac put her PULVERIZER hand on Ash¡¯s stone wall and her REVOLVER one on Froggy. Skin-to-castle-to-object contact. Once that was established, she pictured Ash¡¯s essence as a thick cloud of pink sandstorm, much like the one it used to kick up during its stint as a Penitent transport vehicle. In her vision, the sandstorm swirled and condensed until every last particle was sucked into the frog figurine in her right hand. She¡¯d done exactly as Trippy had advised, but she was still shocked when Ash¡¯s stone wall¡ªand indeed its entire physical form¡ªgave way and disappeared. Poof, into thin air. Or, more accurately, into the Interstitium, only to then reappear in its new form as¡ª Something metallic let out a musical clink. Serac searched for the source of the sound, and didn¡¯t take long to find it. A new ¡®ornament¡¯ that hung from her belt, right next to the pink frog figurine. The first thing she did was unclip the ornament and bring it up for a closer look (no small task, given the thickening ¡®dust cloud¡¯ all around). It was a blocky object that could comfortably fit in the palm of her hand. Despite its size, the features that defined it as [ASHVANAGA the Resurgent Fortress] were unmistakable. There was the battlement, with its tiny parapets lined with tiny javelins. This connected smoothly into the slightly larger cabin, the foundations for which were lined with the tiny spinning teeth that acted as the castle¡¯s propulsive mechanism. It was a faithful replica of her living castle in miniature form. And it was freaking adorable. ¡°Oh my gods,¡± Serac gasped, even as her eyes brimmed with actual tears. ¡°This is the greatest thing I¡¯ve ever witnessed. I want to keep it like this forever. I never want Ash to grow up!¡± ¡°That would be counterproductive, Wayfarer, given the long distances you need to travel. Note that Ashvanaga may be resummoned at any time, as long as you aren¡¯t at a location Pathsight has designated as a ¡®dungeon¡¯. My recommendation at present would be to proceed on foot until you reach a terrain that¡¯s more suitable for castle travel, whereupon you¡¯d be advised to put your Steed back to work.¡± That was a whole lot of pointed advice, coming from what was meant to be a Special Guidance Protocol. At the moment, however, Serac had far more pressing concerns, such as: ¡°Wait, so, this means all Wayfarers tethered to Steeds have a portable version of that Steed, right? Even Sublimity? With their armored dog?¡± ¡°¡­ I¡¯m not sure I know this Sublimity you speak of, but yes. One would presume their Steed, which you claim is an armored dog, would have a portable form of itself.¡± At this, Serac felt a pang of something that almost resembled pain. Oh, Trippy, you know this Sublimity far better than you think you do. She quickly alleviated the pain by imagining [SKYHOWL the Prismatic Hound] in its ¡®portable form¡¯, the results of which were so endearing that she nearly forgot how much she hated the Hound¡¯s master. ¡°Hey, Serac?¡± Zacko cut in then, his earlier nonchalance now cut with a frown and partially obscured by the dust in the air. ¡°Hate to interrupt¡­ whatever this is, but I reckon we better get a move on.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Serac said somewhat reluctantly, clipping Mini-Ash back onto her belt as she did. ¡°First order of business is to find a good place for a Waystation, yeah? Somehow, I don¡¯t think¡­ this is it.¡± She gestured vaguely at her surroundings¡­ and was disconcerted to find how heavy the air was. It was like the air had become a different substance altogether¡ªsomething so viscous as to be almost solid. Either that, or her own body was being weighed down by something she couldn¡¯t see¡­ ¡°Uh, Serac?¡± Zacko again, voice now tinged with real concern. ¡°I really think we need to hurry.¡± Serac felt her own anxiety rise, and she readily agreed with Zacko, despite not fully knowing why¡­ until a new notification came in from Pathsight and gave word to the Wayfarer¡¯s fears. [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [TRIBULATION active (x2): current buff at 10%] 34. The Color of Bone 34. The Color of Bone [REVOLVER Spell: BLOOD FOR BLOOD] [MP Cost: 18] [Spell Description: Chamber One imbuement. Inflict self and one other target with [Bleed]. REVOLVER¡¯s entire cylinder receives the imbuement effect for the duration of [Bleed], thereby converting all unimbued bullets to Infernal damage type. [Bleed] lasts for 60 seconds.] *** Along with the matter-of-fact notification of a status effect Serac had never seen before, Pathsight also gave her a new overlay feature to worry about. It took the form of a fourth bar, one that¡ªannoyingly enough¡ªoccupied the front and center of her conscious awareness. This particular bar, unlike its red-blue-and-green cousins, started out empty and slowly worked its way up. Its color was a kind of pale stony-gray, perhaps what Ashvanaga¡¯s castle walls might look like if someone took a power-washer to them, or¡ª Serac gasped in recognition as she realized that a perfect analogue to the bar¡¯s color was already floating all around her. The dust particles! These were the exact same color as the new status bar that ticked up and up, even as the particles themselves grew thicker and denser. ¡°Trippy?¡± Serac called out, subconsciously covering her own mouth as she did. Somehow, she suddenly had a strong aversion to the idea of inhaling these stony-gray particles. ¡°Any idea what we¡¯re dealing with here?¡± ¡°Apologies, Wayfarer. [Ossify] is not a status effect I¡¯m familiar with. Perhaps its integration into Pathsight is more recent than my knowledge base could cover. What I can tell you, however, is that the new overlay element is what we¡¯d call a ¡®status build-up gauge¡¯. Whatever the effects of [Ossify] may be, we can safely assume it¡¯ll reveal its full nature at the exact moment its gauge fills up.¡± ¡°Oh, yippee. A ticking time bomb, and we don¡¯t even know what the bomb does! It¡¯s a mystery bomb, except I¡¯m probably making it sound way funner than it is.¡± ¡°Well, at least it¡¯s a mystery with a clue,¡± Zacko cut in, picking up the thread of the conversation well enough despite missing Trippy¡¯s portion of it. ¡°Just look at the word itself: ossify.¡± ¡°The word means nothing to me, Manusya man. I haven¡¯t got your fancy college education.¡± ¡°OK, to be fair, it¡¯s my first time seeing it too. But I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s to do with the root word ¡®os¡¯, which means ¡®bone¡¯ in one of the lost Manesferan languages. I think it makes sense. Just look around; we¡¯re practically covered in bone dust.¡± ¡°Uh, I dunno which universe you came from, but this¡±¡ªSerac flung her arm through a dense cloud of the particles in question, which felt noticeably heavier than before¡ª¡°isn¡¯t what bones look like. Bones are black, shiny, and sturdy. Like my horns, see?¡± Zacko looked at her like she¡¯d grown a second pair of horns. ¡°Are you for real? Bones are white. Like the color of chalk. Ever heard of the phrase ¡®white as bone¡¯?¡± ¡°There are clear differences in worldview between you and Zacarias Borges-Juventus, but I do wonder if now is the optimal time for inter-Realm cultural exchange.¡± Trippy was right, of course. In the time Serac and Zacko had wasted debating the color of bone, [Ossify]¡¯s gauge had already built up to nearly a third. Soon enough, mystery bomb would lose its ¡®mystery¡¯ tag, with or without the Wayfarers¡¯ ability to piece together linguistic clues. ¡°OK, let¡¯s actually get a move on,¡± Serac urged, already taking the first step to lead by example. ¡°With any luck, we can maybe find a cave or something to hide in. Somewhere that would let us get rid of this [Ossify] build-up and maybe even put down a Waystation.¡± ¡°Well, speaking of something to hide in,¡± Zacko said, staying put in his original position, ¡°why not just call Ash back? We could sit in our castle and see if we can¡¯t ¡®weather the storm¡¯, so to speak.¡± Serac stopped, already caught in two minds. Her first reaction was: no, why would we make Ash suffer through something we won¡¯t ourselves? But her second thought was: on second thought, that is kind of what fortresses are meant for¡­ But that was when her indecision was interrupted by yet another change to the environment. Chuh chuh chuh¡­ ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°Huh? What was what?¡± Chuh chuh chuh¡­ ¡°That! Don¡¯t tell me I¡¯m the only one that can hear it!¡± ¡°I heard it too, Wayfarer.¡± ¡°No, yeah, I heard it this time. What in the¡ªoof!¡± Serac spun toward her Manusya companion, only to see him doubled over and clutching his chest, with his face contorted in pain. No, not really pain. More like¡­ fear? Which was enough to put Serac on high alert. She knew Zacko was less stoic than he liked to pretend, but she¡¯d also never seen him so visibly afraid¡ªnot even when he¡¯d faced down a KL-185 Deva. Whatever had spooked him must¡¯ve been really spooky to elicit this kind of¡ª Chuh chuh CHUH! Serac got to experience it for herself. It began much like a gust of wind. The so called ¡®bone dust¡¯ around Serac¡¯s person suddenly shifted en masse, as if lifted by rising air. This was almost immediately followed by a flash of searing heat that ran through her person, chest to back.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Ow!¡± [91!] The sensation came with its own damage number. Of course it did. Acting on pure instinct, Serac spun again, this time reaching out and trying to grab the thing that had just passed through her. She caught nothing but air and bone dust. Chuh chuh chuh chuh chuh! And now, she heard the strange sound for what it was. Laughter. Whatever was striking at the Wayfarers from the bone-dusted shadows was also having fun at their expense. Serac saw red. And in her anger, she fired back indiscriminately, emptying a whole cylinder into the ¡®space¡¯ where she thought she heard the laughter from. Most of the shots missed¡­ except one. [0!] 0? Now, that was a new one. Not even Ashvanaga in its Field Boss form had boasted a Physical Mitigation of 100%. Was this thing just really hard? No, somehow, Serac knew that couldn¡¯t be it. The more likely explanation was that the thing was¡ª ¡°Incorporeal. I believe, Wayfarer, that you might be trying to shoot at a ghost.¡± For one fleeting moment, Serac had seen the ghost. Just as her one accurate hit had kicked up a puff of bone dust. Pathsight had registered the damage-less hit and labeled the target as: [Bhoota]. But by then, night had well and truly fallen, shrouding the Badlands in a dark maroon veil that obfuscated Serac¡¯s vision of her own arm and weapon, let alone a ghost that hid in the shadows. And no, not just one ghost. Chuh chuh chuh¡­ Cheh cheh cheh¡­ Chah chah chah¡­ More laughing voices joined the first Bhoota, each more infuriating than the last. Serac counted at least four, perhaps five distinct entities, their voices filtering in and out of audible range as they flew circles around the Wayfarers. Cheh cheh CHEH! [91!] A second ghost passed through her, leaving its mark in the form of HP damage. This time, she swung after it with PULVERIZER, only to whiff. Not even close. Her rock-vambrace punch was too heavy and slow, while the Bhoota could dash in and out of safety at will. ¡°Ugh!¡± Serac let out a groan of disgust. Of all the weird and wonderful Aberrants she¡¯d had to smite so far, these Bhootas took the cake as being the most irritating. ¡°So I¡¯ve got to shoot these things somehow, but REVOLVER won¡¯t do any damage to them. How the hell do I kill them then?¡± ¡°If Physical doesn¡¯t work, you¡¯ll have to try a different damage type.¡± ¡°You mean with [Catharsis]? But I haven¡¯t got enough MP, HP, or Cartridge to deal with all of the Bhootas, and that¡¯s assuming I don¡¯t miss.¡± ¡°The Manusya then? With his VISAGE imbuement?¡± That sounded like a half-decent idea, assuming Zacko would be willing to go into more Karma debt. But when Serac turned to her companion to suggest just that, she was shocked to see him crouched low to the ground, having buried his head with both hands. ¡°Zacko? The hell¡¯s wrong with you?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± The Manusya croaked out a muffled whimper. ¡°I can¡¯t do ghosts.¡± ¡°What?¡± Here was a man who¡¯d survived the Aviary, won a duel against Bayu, and spearheaded the siege on Ashvanaga. And now, he¡¯d been reduced to a whimpering fool by a handful of laughing ghosts. ¡°Oh my gods¡­¡± Serac muttered, mostly to herself. Then, to Trippy, she said, ¡°You think it¡¯s too late for me to summon Ash?¡± ¡°No, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯d be much help. I doubt these ghosts would leave you alone no matter how long you try and ¡®weather the storm¡¯. And that¡¯s assuming Ashvanaga¡¯s castle walls could actually defend against the Bhootas¡¯ attack.¡± ¡°Good point. Which leaves me with only one option¡­¡± By this point in her Wayfaring journey, Serac had become something of an expert at quick maths. Right now, those maths told her that she could still tank six more Bhoota attacks and still be left with enough HP for a much-needed buffer. Six. Would that be enough? It¡¯d depend on the execution of her plan, as well as the Bhoota¡¯s HP and mitigation profile. Only one way to find out¡­ Chah chah CHAH! [91!] The first hit was already in the books, and Serac couldn¡¯t allow herself to miss this chance. She spun and backstepped at the same time, tracking the Bhoota¡¯s barely visible movement with REVOLVER¡¯s barrel. [Chamber One: BLOOD FOR BLOOD] [Bhoota Status Effect: BLEED] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BLEED] [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] The shot landed! Which¡ªif Serac had understood the spell¡¯s description correctly¡ªmeant all of her bullets had just been converted to Infernal damage type. Which also meant¡ª Chuh chuh CHUH! [91!] Serac spun and fired thrice in quick succession. As loath as she was to waste her rapidly dwindling Cartridge, she also couldn¡¯t afford to miss altogether. In this case, it proved to be the correct decision, as it was the third shot that kicked up a visible impact cloud, along with a meaty damage number: [140!] CHHUUUHHHH! The Bhoota¡¯s pathetic ¡®screech¡¯ coincided with a flash of light. The maroon gloom of the Naraka night brightened for a brief Ksana as a dying ghost finally showed its form in full. The best way Serac knew to describe it was a ¡®winged monkey¡¯, with a bug-eyed and snake-fanged face that was disproportionately large for its scrawny simian body. In lieu of death throes, it flapped its bat wings several times before dissolving into Souldust. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Karma to Karma. [400 ?] As it turned out, the Bhoota had by far the lowest HP out of all the Aberrants Serac had smited thus far. She did think it was only fair, given how difficult it was to hit one! Cheh chah chih choh! A chorus of confused outcries followed in the wake of the Bhoota¡¯s death. Despite not being able to see them, Serac could tell that the remaining ghosts¡¯ flight had picked up in intensity and murderous intent. Even to them, this fight was no longer a laughing matter. ¡°Well, bring it on, then! I¡¯ve got enough bullets for all of you.¡± Yet, despite her outward bravado, Serac knew that she was still very much in a bind. And not just because her Cartridge was down to a measly [2|11]. For one thing, the [Bleed] effect sapped her HP at a steady rate ([4!], [4!], [4!], ¡­), more than enough to override the modest effects of Froggy¡¯s [Lesser Regen] ([1], [1], [1], ¡­). For another, [Ossify] continued to build and build, edging ever closer to filling an entire gauge with the color of bone. 35. A Narakite Ghost Story 35. A Narakite Ghost Story As stupid as they sounded when they laughed, the Bhootas did display some semblance of intelligence. There were four of them left now, and they all seemed to hang back in unspoken agreement. The whispered chorus of cheh chah chih choh maintained a constant reminder of their presence, yet the sounds remained too distant for Serac to guess at their location. This was no good. Her ¡®plan¡¯¡ªif she could even call it that¡ªhad been predicated on the Bhootas staying aggressive and revealing their positions via direct attacks. They¡¯d been plenty bold when they thought her attacks couldn¡¯t hit them; not so when Infernal bullets were on the table. The Bhootas¡¯ 180 in tactics was irritating as hell, but Serac had to give them her grudging respect. For her enemies were, in a sense, doing exactly what she would¡¯ve done in their shoes. They must know about [Ossify], and that knowledge allows them to wait me out. Wait for me to make rash moves of my own. Yet, Serac also knew that the Bhootas were here for a reason. The same reason any Aberrant in hell would go out of their way to find souls to torment. These ones just happened to be a little more cautious with their approach, and cautious souls just needed a little more encouragement to come out of their shell. The enemies had shifted their strategy. As such, it was time for Serac to try a new one of her own. I don¡¯t know if this will work, but I¡¯d rather try anything than be a sitting duck. First things first. Cycle through the rest of REVOLVER¡¯s cylinder to get back to Chamber One. With no time to waste, Serac fired twice in the general direction of the first ¡®cheh¡¯ she heard, hoping against hope that she might hit something. No dice. Gotta move on. Quickly reload while keeping her head on a swivel, wise to any sneak attacks or a rise in laughter volume. The Bhootas stayed home, their caution evidently winning out over their desire to torment a Wayfarer. With a newly full cylinder ([6|5]), Serac raised REVOLVER to eye level and¡­ forced herself to be patient. She only had one shot at this, and she couldn¡¯t let it go to waste. Cheh cheh cheh¡­ Chah chah chah¡­ Chih choh chih choh¡­ There! A confluence in the laughter, which likely meant Mr Chih and Mr Choh were, at least briefly, overlapping on each other¡¯s position. Serac swiftly shifted her aim to follow the noise, and fired. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [166!] A column of black fire erupted from REVOLVER¡¯s barrel. Though it didn¡¯t find a target to latch onto, it did set aflame every dust particle in its path, while its heat caused the surrounding air to shift. Clouds of bone dust dispersed and rose into the maroon sky, thereby exposing a pair of ghosts that had used them as cover. The Bhootas, even in the open air, were no more than hazy outlines of winged monkeys. But outlines were all Serac needed to guide her aim. [140!] CHHIIIHHHH! [140!] CHHOOOHHHH! Two ghosts down. Two more remaining. Serac doubted she could pull off the same trick with [Catharsis] again, but her enemies didn¡¯t need to know that. As far as they were concerned, here was a Wayfarer who could smoke them out with magical fire. The tables were turned once more, and the Bhootas were left with a choice. They could either run away and leave the Wayfarers to their fates, or they could try and take back the initiative. They chose the latter, as Serac suspected they might. Cheh cheh CHEH! Even as the battle raced to its climax, the Bhootas stuck to their laughing ways. Serac had to give them props for that. She also learned to see the laughter as more helpful than annoying, as the telegraph allowed her to pre-position, readying her aim toward the space the ghost would occupy once it was done passing through her. [91!] Ouch¡­ and right back at ya! [140!] CHHEEEHHHH! One bullet. One was all Serac had needed, which still left her with two in the cylinder. More than enough to deal with the one last ghost. Come on Mr Chah. Come and get yours! Chah chah CHAH! [91!] ¡­ And that was when Serac¡¯s knees buckled and her grip on REVOLVER loosened. The Rakshasa dropped her weapon and fell to her knees, more confused than anything. The fight hadn¡¯t been fast-paced enough for her to worry about Stamina management. She attuned to the bar now and saw plenty of green. She also didn¡¯t feel particularly exhausted, and yet, try as she might, she couldn¡¯t move a single muscle.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. If anything, what she felt was an overwhelming sense of defeat. The understanding came to her in a flash. This was Poise-break! Her very first one. She¡¯d gone so long into her Wayfaring journey without ever worrying about her own Poise that she¡¯d forgotten she was just as susceptible to it breaking as her enemies were. It only made sense. Six hits from the Bhootas¡¯ ghost tackle and one instance of self-damage. It was a wonder she¡¯d remained standing for so long before this. But just because there was a reasonable explanation for the Poise-break, it didn¡¯t make its timing any less than the worst case imaginable. Serac had been this close to finishing off the last Bhoota, and now she was fully at its mercy. Surely, even a light ghost slap at this point would be enough to kill her. True to form, the Bhoota didn¡¯t miss the window of safety provided by its opponent¡¯s mishap. Mr Chah swooped down upon Serac, with its laughter reaching a new fever pitch. Chah chah chah chah CHAH! Suddenly, Serac¡¯s motionless body was knocked to the ground with tremendous force. With no way to catch her own fall, she face-planted. Which was plenty painful but came with a modest damage of just [21!]. Even as her confusion resurfaced anew, she knew this new attack hadn¡¯t been a ghost tackle or even a ghost slap. No, it¡¯d been dealt by a solid being. And the only solid being in the vicinity was¡ª ¡°Zacko?¡± Serac finally managed to speak, Poise-recovered. ¡°Did you just¡ª?¡± She received no reply from the Manusya, who¡¯d gone right back to burying his head and trembling in fear as soon as he¡¯d saved Serac from certain death. And it was his body that rocked and his HP bar that went down to its last sliver, as Mr Chah completed its ghost tackle on the wrong target. The scaredy Manusya had made his one contribution to the fight. Serac wasn¡¯t about to let it go to waste. But how? She¡¯d lost her chance to track the final Bhoota, and she no longer had enough HP to tank another hit. What could she do? Just take a wild shot in the dark? That was when she noticed, for the first time, strange markings on the ground. Red stains that were spaced out evenly in an erratic pattern¡ªalmost as if it followed the flight of a ghost. Blood! Serac¡¯s eyes widened as she recalled that Mr Chah had been the one she¡¯d targeted with [Blood for Blood]. This whole time, the [Bleeding] ghost had been leaving a trail of blood, and she didn¡¯t even notice until she was Poise-broken and forced to kneel! Chah chah CHAH! Mr Chah came for her again, oblivious to its opponent¡¯s flash of inspiration. This time, Serac was ready for the ghost. For she knew exactly where it left a fresh trail of dripping blood. Aim, lock, fire. [140!] CHHAAAHHHH! ¡°Hell yes!¡± Serac Edin PULVERIZER-punched the air in celebration. The Bhootas had been what Zacko would classify as merely ¡®mobs¡¯, but in all honesty, Serac couldn¡¯t recall a sweeter victory. Even in her elation, she had the presence of mind to note the inflow of [400 ?]¡ªthe full credit going to her alone, despite Zacko having played a crucial role in the final smiting. Alas, such were the imperfections of an ¡®all-seeing¡¯ system. Yet, she also knew she couldn¡¯t celebrate for long. Her own [Bleed] was still ticking, and [Ossify]¡¯s build-up gauge was all but full. She and Zacko needed to find shelter now or become well-acquainted with a status effect neither knew the nature of. What to do? What to do? What to do? ¡°Wayfarer, I¡¯d venture to say now might be the optimal time to try resummoning your Steed.¡± Of course! At Trippy¡¯s reminder, Serac fumbled around her waist and ripped Mini-Ash off her belt. With her hand shaking with anxiety, she raised the miniature castle up into the night sky, then¡­ ¡­ Then what? ¡°Trippy! I don¡¯t know how to resummon a Steed!¡± ¡°Simple, Wayfarer. It¡¯s the exact same thing as dismissal, but in reverse. Do you remember how you did it?¡± ¡°No! I can¡¯t think right now! Please just help me do it?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not possible. If I recall, you¡¯d used the Frog in the Well as your model for¡ª¡± ¡°Right! Pink sand getting sucked up and trapped inside Froggy. So¡­ the reverse of that would be¡­¡± Yet, try as she might, Serac couldn¡¯t quite summon the Zen needed to ignore all distractions and focus on her task. [Bleed] was ticking, [Ossify] was building, and instead of pink sand, her entire consciousness filled with the pale bone dust that grew thicker and denser all around¡ª A wave of pale-blue light. One that danced at the periphery of Serac¡¯s vision and illuminated the dust clouds all around her. Dust clouds that¡­ vanished. Instantly and completely, as if they¡¯d been dismissed by someone¡¯s magic. And, as if dispelled by the same light, [Ossify]¡¯s bone-colored gauge also disappeared. [TRIBULATION active (x2): current buff at 10%] Serac was spared from having to learn [Ossify]¡¯s full effect, but now she was left deathly curious about the source of the dust-repellent light. ¡°Oh my, I think you¡¯re hurt. Here, let me have a look.¡± It was a sweet, lilting voice. A heartening contrast to the Bhootas¡¯ laughter and a soothing salve on a weary body and soul. Serac turned to the voice eagerly¡ªalmost greedily¡ªand found the source of both the light and the voice, wrapped up in one savior. It was a child. The Rakshasa child, himself barely taller than a Bhoota, was dressed in a clean, simple robe. Upon his forehead was a pair of white horns that had yet to blacken with age. In his hand, he held a lantern, one that even now bathed the whole area in its strange, pale-blue light. Serac Edin had never met a child before. She couldn¡¯t even remember herself as ever being one. As such, she gawked in silent astonishment as the Rakshasa boy approached her with a broad, innocent smile that didn¡¯t belong anywhere in hell. And she put up no resistance as the boy promptly placed a skinny hand in the middle of her chest. The hand radiated a gentle warmth, soothing on a weary body and soul. The boy closed his eyes, as if in concentration, for the briefest of Ksanas. Then he let go, just as quickly, smiling his broad, innocent smile. [TRIBULATION active (x1): current buff at 5%] Serac¡¯s [Tribulation] stack was down to just the one, which meant she¡¯d been healed of both [Ossify] and [Bleed]. Now, the only ongoing change to her HP bar went in an upward direction: the [Lesser Regen] provided by Froggy. [1], [1], [1], ¡­ She¡¯d survived! No more ghosts, no more scary build-up gauge, and no more dying to a self-inflicted DoT effect. Along with the relief, a bit of Serac¡¯s cautious side returned. Despite her gratitude, she found herself frowning in response to the boy¡¯s smile. She didn¡¯t know what exactly the boy had done to heal her, but she knew it had to have been magical. Did that mean he was a¡ª? But no. As intensely as Serac tried to focus on the boy¡¯s presence, there were no overlay messages to offer any concrete info. As far as Pathsight was concerned, this beautiful, smiling child was just another soul Anchored to Naraka¡¯s hellscape¡ªneither Aberrant nor Wayfaring. ¡°You look like you could use somewhere to rest, Wayfarers,¡± the boy spoke again, sweet and lilting. ¡°Come with me. I know just the place.¡± 36. The Pilgrims 36. The Pilgrims It took about five minutes of following a lantern-wielding child across the Badlands for Zacarias Borges-Juventus to straighten himself and adopt his usual demeanor. Presently, he sidled up to the more grown-up of the two Rakshasas and spoke in his usual Manesferan polish like nothing had happened. ¡°Serac, a word?¡± ¡°Hm? Are you sure you want to be using your outside voice, Zacko? Aren¡¯t you afraid the ghosts will hear you?¡± Serac kept her eyes forward and amused herself by imagining Zacko¡¯s sallow face turning redder than her skin. ¡°Yeah, about that,¡± Zacko said, reverting to his inside voice, whether intentionally or not. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t even have to say this, but I¡¯m gonna say it anyway, just so we¡¯re clear. You¡­ you¡¯re cool, right?¡± ¡°Cool? I dunno, Zacko, we¡¯re still in the middle of Naraka, and things do tend to get pretty hot here. In more ways than one.¡± ¡°OK, ha ha, good joke, well done. I mean, like, you¡¯ll keep this one on the DL, yeah?¡± ¡°The DL?¡± Serac parroted. Not to be mean, but because she genuinely didn¡¯t know what that meant. ¡°Yeah. The Down Low. Like, you won¡¯t tell another soul about my¡­ ahem. It¡¯s for your benefit, too, you know? You don¡¯t want rumors spreading about certain weaknesses our enemies could exploit.¡± ¡°Oh? You mean weaknesses like your failure to perform when your partner needed you to step up?¡± ¡°¡­ I¡¯d call you out on your phrasing, Serac, but I know you just don¡¯t know any better. Sure, label it how you want. Just¡­ don¡¯t advertise it, please. For example, to this kid we¡¯re following for gods know what reason.¡± ¡°You mean Dashi? Why wouldn¡¯t we follow him? He¡¯s an absolute angel!¡± The Rakshasa boy, who¡¯d introduced himself as Dashi, looked over his shoulder at the sound of his name. He smiled his smile, and Serac¡¯s heart melted anew. What a perfect gentleman, unlike someone I know. ¡°Once again, Serac, you¡¯re too trusting,¡± someone Serac knew said, further lowering his voice. ¡°We just got ambushed by a gang of ghosts in the middle of nowhere, then this kid just conveniently shows up with his convenient lantern and convenient healing magic? Oh, and he¡¯s just conveniently going to lead us somewhere that¡¯s safe for us to stretch our legs and pop down a Waystation?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see why you¡¯re complaining,¡± Serac said with a shrug. ¡°Everything you listed sounds really, uh, convenient. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?¡± ¡°All I¡¯m saying is keep your wits about you. You should know by now that not everything in the afterlife is what it appears at first glance.¡± Serac rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide it from Zacko. His words of caution only reminded her of another soul who¡¯d warned her about trusting strangers too easily. What is it with men and being convinced that they¡¯re the only ones worth trusting? After Zacko had expressed his desire to keep his failure to perform strictly between Wayfaring partners, he fell into one of his contemplative silences. Which was just as well, as Serac was profoundly weary from the latest hectic leg of her journey. She only wanted to concentrate on following her guide and staying within the effective radius of his dust-repellent lantern. Such was her single-minded focus on Dashi and his pale-blue light that, when the scenery did change, she reacted with outsized surprise and alarm. ¡°Gyah!¡± She yelped, halting in her tracks and pointing REVOLVER and its six remaining bullets at the new figure that just joined the travelers in the light, unannounced. But she soon saw that the newcomer wasn¡¯t alive¡ªor at least it wasn¡¯t moving. The figure had the approximate frame and features of an adult Rakshasa. Yet the entirety of its body¡ªincluding its clothes and even its claws and horns¡ªwas white. Bone white, if a Manusya¡¯s strange understanding of anatomy were to be taken as fact. ¡°Do not be alarmed, Wayfarer,¡± Dashi said mildly, smiling his smile. ¡°This is but one of many, many ¡®Bone Husks¡¯ you¡¯ll come across out here in the Badlands. It bears no ill will toward travelers passing by, and even if it did, whatever soul once occupied it has long passed on.¡± ¡°Once occupied?¡± Serac repeated, her gun still held aloft and her heart beating loud enough for her to hear it. ¡°You mean this thing used to be alive?¡± Even as she demanded an explanation, she saw the truth of Dashi¡¯s words, written plainly upon the statue¡¯s face. A face frozen in horror and despair¡ªa soul¡¯s final desperate moments encased and immortalized in Bone. The realization hit her then. The fate she¡¯d avoided thanks to a child¡¯s dust-repellent lantern. This. This Bone Husk was what would¡¯ve happened to her and Zacko, had their [Ossify] gauges filled up. ¡°Yes,¡± Dashi said, now with just the hint of sadness. ¡°It¡¯s the harsh reality of the afterlife out here in the Badlands. But¡­ I like to think that this is for the best. That these souls, whomever they¡¯d been in their previous existence, have moved on to serve a higher purpose.¡± Something about the way Dashi said this unsettled Serac in a way she hadn¡¯t expected. For at least a Ksana, she was overcome by an illusion, in which she saw the beautiful, wise, and kind child as something a little more multi-faceted and a lot older. The illusion lasted for only a Ksana, however, and the Wayfarer continued to follow her young guide, drawn to his lantern and his smile as a moth to a flame. As the travelers went on, more and more Husks appeared on their path. They were all Rakshasas, all frozen in their moments of death¡­ and all seeming to be headed in the same direction.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Serac noticed this only after spotting five or six more of the statues. The way their bodies twisted and their arms reached for something in the air. They were all on their way to the same place¡ªthe same place to which Dashi guided the Wayfarers now¡ªbefore the road to get there became their final resting place. Gradually, the presence of Bone Husks grew just as dense as the dust clouds that whipped about beyond the safety of the lantern¡¯s light. Serac and Zacko were forced to weave their way through the tight spaces in between the statues, watching and copying Dashi¡¯s practiced movements. Then, suddenly, just as Serac thought the Husks were too many and that there was no space left for her to squeeze through, the trio came upon open space. It was the inside of a cavern, the floor of which was a continuation of the Badlands¡¯ crests and troughs. Yet the whole, enormous space was walled on all sides by rugged rocks, cutting it off from the dust-storm entirely. A natural barrier against the elements, one that didn¡¯t need a magical lantern to maintain. Dashi turned off his lantern nearly as soon as he was indoors, throwing the Wayfarers behind him into near-total darkness. Yet, it didn¡¯t take long for Serac to readjust to the dim lighting, one that was provided by the faint, pale-gray glow that emanated from the rocks themselves. And as Serac saw and understood the exact nature of the cavern she¡¯d just crawled into, she found herself stifling another yelp of surprise and alarm. Because she saw that the walls here weren¡¯t made of rocks. No, every inch was filled in by compacted Bone Husks¡ªby Rakshasas who¡¯d gathered here in numbers and chosen this ¡®artificial¡¯ cavern as their final resting place. For a moment, Serac stood in place and gazed upon the frozen faces that illuminated themselves with their own faint glow. Unlike their fellows who¡¯d fallen short out in the Badlands, these statues were pictures of calm, contentment, and camaraderie. Arm in arm, united in purpose, and safe in the knowledge that they¡¯d made good on their pilgrimage. And this had been a pilgrimage. Serac understood that too, as she turned her gaze inward and saw that the cavern had prior occupants. Tens, perhaps even hundreds of them, in fact. Children. Skinny. Tall. Sullen. Round-eyed. Boys. Girls. Rakshasa children of all shapes, sizes, and demeanors¡ªalive and moving¡ªfilled the troughs and lined the crests inside the cavern, unified in their youth and guileless curiosity as they stared up at the adult intruders in their midst. Zacko let out one of his low whistles, this one tinged with a sort of audible hesitation, like he¡¯d just stumbled into a place where he wasn¡¯t welcome. Serac, on the other hand, found herself drawn to the group of children as much as she¡¯d been to Dashi, their presumed ringleader. The sight of so many young and innocent eyes fixing upon her person woke in her a hitherto unknown emotion¡ªone that tugged at her heartstrings and hastened their pulsation. These children didn¡¯t belong here. Didn¡¯t belong in hell. What possible sin could they atone for? What manner of injustice and callous disregard for basic Rakshasa decency could¡¯ve condemned these innocent souls to Kalpas of penitence and suffering? She¡¯d get them out if it was the last thing she did. Take them with her to the higher realms if she had to. She knew this with the same conviction that had once driven all these pilgrims to gather in numbers and build walls using their own Husks¡ªall so the young and innocent among them had a place to shelter from the ravages of hell. ¡°Do not fret on behalf of the children, Wayfarer.¡± Serac turned to the voice, startled out of her self-righteous reveries. It was Dashi, whose smile shone as brightly as ever, even in the cavern¡¯s dim glow. ¡°These children make do with what they¡¯ve been given,¡± the boy continued, ¡°and they¡¯re all under the protection of the Bone Lord, who watches over the Badlands with his all-seeing eye. That¡¯s far more than can be said for the lost souls who yet wander beyond the Sanctuary¡¯s walls.¡± Serac smiled back at Dashi, though rather uncertainly at that. Something about the way Dashi spoke¡ªthey instead of we¡ªcalled forth that same illusion that had visited her earlier. But just like last time, the moment of hesitation was brief. ¡°Tell me more about this Bone Lord,¡± she found herself asking, even though¡ªstrangely enough¡ªshe didn¡¯t feel particularly curious about the answer. ¡°He sounds like someone I should get to know pretty well, if I¡¯m to finish my business in Naraka.¡± ¡°All in due time.¡± Dashi smiled his smile. ¡°For now, however, might I suggest that you lay down your wings and rest a while? Within the boundaries of the Sanctuary, all are safe from dust, ghosts, and all manner of ill-intentioned beings. And I¡¯m sure that¡¯s just the kind of place you¡¯ve been looking for.¡± Serac couldn¡¯t rightly argue with that. She watched on a while in fond silence as Dashi strolled further into the cavern to join his fellows. She then cast her gaze about for an ideal spot for a Waystation. ¡°Serac, a word?¡± Zacko had sidled up to her again, his expression visibly tense. ¡°Hm?¡± she gave a distracted response, attention still turned elsewhere. ¡°Are you sure this is where you want to set up camp?¡± ¡°Hm? Why wouldn¡¯t I be sure?¡± ¡°I mean¡­ doesn¡¯t this place give you the absolute creeps?¡± Serac frowned at this, and met Zacko¡¯s eyes for the first time. ¡°I know you don¡¯t think much of us Rakshasas, Manusya man,¡± she snapped, a little more sharply than she might¡¯ve intended. ¡°But I for one think what these pilgrims did for the children is beautiful. And I¡¯d be honored to mark my journey¡¯s progress with the place of their sacrifice.¡± Zacko frowned back at her, evidently not following the thread of the conversation. ¡°Pilgrims? Sacrifice? What¡­ what are you even talking about? Serac, are you¡­ okay? Don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but you¡¯ve been acting a little strange ever since we ran into that lantern kid.¡± ¡°That lantern kid saved us from certain [Ossification]. Also, his name is Dashi,¡± Serac shot back, now just as sharply as she¡¯d intended. ¡°Maybe I am a little too trusting, but if you ask me, you¡¯re a little too far up your own ass. Good thing there¡¯s a third soul we can ask for a tie-break. Trippy? What do you reckon? This here good enough for a Waystation?¡± ¡°¡­ I believe, right now, your needs for shelter and reconstitution trump all other considerations. My suggestion would be to install the Waystation here, then continue to exercise caution as appropriate.¡± ¡°See?¡± Serac said to Zacko, a little mean-spiritedly, knowing full well the Manusya couldn¡¯t hear Trippy¡¯s argument. ¡°The vote¡¯s two to one, and you lost. We will set up camp here, and you¡¯re welcome to use it too¡­ if you don¡¯t find us Rakshasas too creepy to be around.¡± Even as Serac sat down upon a patch of flat ground near the cavern¡¯s entrance, she knew she¡¯d gone too far¡ªespecially with that last bit. She wasn¡¯t in the mood to apologize, however, and she instead concentrated on the next task at hand: a meditative exercise to summon the lotus flower Pathsight had granted her. The lotus emerged in short order, joining its white glow to that of the Bone Husks all around. And as Serac gave herself to a much-needed reconstitution, the first thing she noticed was the ¡®designation¡¯ attached to the location of her newest progress marker: [The Huskbound Sanctuary] 37. Quid Pro Quo 37. Quid Pro Quo For the latest round of leveling, Serac began by predictably putting one point into [Ambition]. This was something she¡¯d been itching to do for some time, allowing her Cartridge to reach a comfortable total of 55 (six bullets in the cylinder to start with, then eight full reloads plus change). The second point was a matter of some internal debate. There was nothing inherently wrong with the idea of continuing to pump [Ambition] until kingdom come. More HP meant she could take more hits, and more Cartridge meant she could shoot more things for longer. But the earlier fight against the Bhootas¡ªas well as the Poise-break that almost cost her dearly¡ªwas still fresh on her mind. She used this memory of near-defeat as an excuse to mix things up, putting the point into [Abidance] for a small increase in Stamina and Poise. It did come with the added bonus of higher Infernal Mitigation, which she suspected could become more and more useful as she continued to challenge the best and worst Naraka had to offer. With reconstitution and leveling out of the way, it was time to decide on the next steps. Despite the Wayfarers¡¯ earlier spat, both were in agreement that whatever was next on their itinerary could wait until the morning when the skies would shine a brighter shade of red. Then they debated whether the storm too might abate with the passage of time. For even if they could see where they were going, traveling on foot through an [Ossify] hazard zone would be a fool¡¯s errand. If only they could find flatter terrain for Ash to travel through, or failing that, find a way to protect their own persons against the bone dust¡­ At some point, it became clear that they weren¡¯t going to arrive at solutions on their own. It was obvious to Serac who they should turn to for help, but Zacko took some convincing. In the end, she had to parrot verbatim Trippy¡¯s third opinion on the matter. ¡°The two of you are Wayfarers. The whole point of the exercise is that you venture out from your Anchored origins¡ªthat you grow and enrich yourselves as souls by seeing and experiencing the world. Part and parcel of that experience is interacting with the local populace and letting yourselves be guided by their knowledge and expertise. What better time to do that than now, as you¡¯re beset on all sides by dangers both known and unseen?¡± Trippy was right, of course, and even Zacko grudgingly came around on his well-reasoned argument (but only after making fun of Serac¡¯s stilted delivery). After all, wasn¡¯t interacting with the local populace exactly how they¡¯d overcome the Fibrinous Canyon and scored themselves a Steed in the process? It was, at the very least, worth a shot. Naturally, the ¡®local expert¡¯ both Wayfarers turned to first was Dashi. Presently, the boy had the whole Sanctuary¡¯s attention to himself, sat upon the cavern¡¯s highest mound as the rest of the children gathered around, rapt with attention. The sight of it was eerily similar to how Ravi the elder Penitent had led his fellow Sorrowers in prayer and, well, penitence. But instead of mumbling words of self-flagellation, Dashi regaled his audience with tales of his travels¡ªthe latest episode of which featured Serac and Zacko prominently. ¡°Ah, Wayfarers!¡± The boy looked up with a broad smile as the two grown-ups approached. ¡°Come, join us. I hope you don¡¯t mind me taking creative license with your journey, but my friends here do love their adventure stories¡ªespecially when they¡¯re spiced up by magic, which is a rarity in these parts. We were just getting to how you dealt with the last Bhoota. Perhaps you¡¯d like to fill in some of the details yourselves?¡± Serac eagerly opened her mouth to oblige, only to have it covered by Zacko¡¯s hand. ¡°We¡¯ll think about it,¡± the Manusya said hastily, his sallow cheeks slightly red, ¡°but first, I wondered if you could start by answering some of our questions. If your friends want more stories of magic and adventure, well, we Wayfarers would need to keep Wayfaring, won¡¯t we? Just thought you might give us the lay of the land and maybe a few pointers on how to proceed.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Dashi said, showing no sign that he might¡¯ve been put off by Zacko¡¯s brusqueness. He then extended a slender hand to the side, palm up, as if to say: go ahead. ¡°Uh,¡± Zacko muttered, ¡°I was hoping we could maybe have this conversation somewhere more private.¡± Dashi laughed. Sweet, lilting, good-natured. Yet¡­ somehow also authoritative. He said, ¡°There¡¯s nothing you need to say to me that you can¡¯t also say to my friends. Go ahead, Wayfarers. How could I be of help?¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Serac frowned, for two separate reasons. First, she couldn¡¯t see why Zacko wanted privacy to discuss such an innocuous topic. Second, she was at least slightly disturbed by Dashi¡¯s demeanor. This was especially apparent in contrast with the other children that surrounded them. Children that displayed round-eyed innocence and a fidgety sort of restlessness. The way children ought to behave. Dashi, on the other hand¡­ So confident, so eloquent, and so¡­ mature. The boy had every appearance of being just as frail and soft-horned as the other Rakshasa children, and yet, whenever he spoke, one could easily be fooled into the illusion that he was an old, wise soul. Older and wiser than me, at least. Maybe older and wiser than anyone I¡¯ve met¡­ ¡°Fine,¡± Zacko eventually half-said half-sighed. It seemed even the self-proclaimed ¡®man of the people¡¯ didn¡¯t quite know what to make of Dashi. ¡°If you kids want in on boring grown-up talk so badly, I¡¯ll try to keep it simple for your sake. We want to leave this place and head north toward the Bonespires, as early as tomorrow morning if possible. What¡¯s the safest way for us to do that? Preferably a way that would let us avoid the worst of the bone dust and¡ªand the ghosts.¡± Zacko said this last part in a rushed whisper, as if just saying the words could speak the Bhootas into being. His cheeks turned a darker shade of red. If Dashi noticed Zacko¡¯s embarrassment, he didn¡¯t show it. He smiled his smile and now spread both arms wide, as if to say: well, why didn¡¯t you say so sooner? ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say so sooner?¡± he said with another delighted laugh. ¡°Take my lantern with you, then you could explore the Badlands with impunity. It¡¯ll keep the Bone Blight away, as you both saw. And the light is also effective in dissuading Bhootas, who prefer to keep to the cover of night and shadows.¡± Serac stared at Dashi, mouth slightly agape. Zacko too stood in stunned silence for some time. Such a simple solution! Yet, surely, things couldn¡¯t be that simple. When had anything on this journey been simple? ¡°I only ask one thing in return.¡± Ah, there it is. ¡°Do this one thing for me and my friends, and the lantern is yours.¡± ¡°Should¡¯ve known there¡¯d be a catch,¡± Zacko muttered, effectively speaking for both Wayfarers. ¡°Alright, out with it, kid. What is it you need us to¡ª¡± Brraaahhhhmmmmm¡­!! Serac ducked and covered her head. She had no clue what was happening, other than that¡ªalong with that deafening sound¡ªthe entirety of the walls that formed [the Huskbound Sanctuary] shook, as if rocked by the biggest earthquake this side of the Sanzu River. She fought down her own alarm and scanned her surroundings, wanting to take her cues from the local experts. The children drew closer to each other, with some of the larger ones taking the smaller ones in their arms. They looked worried, but this worry was tempered by organization and unity of purpose. No panic. No chaos. Whatever was causing the cavern-quake had done this before. Perhaps even often enough for the cavern¡¯s inhabitants to have become accustomed to the seismic event. Brraaahhhhmmmmm¡­ The cavern-quake came at intervals and continued for some time. Perhaps for several minutes. Each time the walls shook, dried bone dust rained down upon the Wayfarers and the children, shaken loose from the Husks themselves. Before long, everyone was covered from head to toe in pale-gray powder, but as far as Serac could tell, this batch of dust had long lost their ability to [Ossify]. Through it all, Dashi remained the calmest soul of all. He sat alone atop the cavern¡¯s highest mound, smiling his calm, beautiful smile even as his friends cowered and as his Wayfarer guests became covered in bone dust. And after the dust finally settled, Dashi was also the first to speak. ¡°My apologies, Wayfarers. Perhaps I haven¡¯t been entirely truthful,¡± he said, voice as sweet and lilting as ever. ¡°Earlier, when I claimed that all within this Sanctuary are safe from ill-intentioned beings, I neglected to specify: for now. We are safe for as long as the Huskbound walls hold, but as you just saw, there is an ill-intentioned being out in the Badlands who wants nothing more than to see these walls fall¡ªand that being has been diligent in its efforts to make that desire a reality.¡± Once more, Serac found herself scanning the faces of the children. Calm and normalcy had returned to the caverns, yet the children continued to seek each other for comfort and warmth. Their worried eyes trained again on the Wayfarers¡ªthose fabled heroes of magic and adventure. The children expected nothing. How could they? Young as they were, even they knew the futility of expectation here in Mount Meru¡¯s lowliest Realm. And yet, young as they were, they couldn¡¯t help themselves if they let a little hope bloom within their bony chests. Beside her, Zacko let out a drawn-out sigh. Now, Serac could see why her Manusya companion had wanted to have this conversation in private. He would¡¯ve felt the same hopeful gazes of the children, and¡ªfor all his professed disinterest in anyone other than himself¡ªSerac knew that his heart too contained strings that were susceptible to being tugged. ¡°Let me guess,¡± Zacko half-said half-sighed to the smiling Rakshasa boy. ¡°In return for your lantern, you want us to go and smite this ill-intentioned being that wants to tear down these walls.¡± 38. The Huskbound 38. The Huskbound On their second night at their newest Waystation, the Wayfaring pair of Serac and Zacko were back in familiar territory¡ªthat of waiting for the big bad Aberrant to show up at their door. Tonight, they did so just outside [the Huskbound Sanctuary] and from the safety and comfort of Ash the Resummoned Fortress, while the storm of bone-dust only picked up in intensity just outside the castle walls ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s all a little too convenient?¡± Zacko grumbled with his head leaning against ¡®Zacko¡¯s Corner¡¯. He kept his eyes shut and his voice at a low murmur, but Serac knew it to be just an act; the man was too amped up to have any hope of falling asleep. ¡°I mean for you, specifically. Every step of your journey, you seem to have had no shortage of locals giving you clear goals and a chunky source of Karma to aim at.¡± ¡°Do you count yourself as one of those locals?¡± Serac teased from her ¡®driver¡¯s seat¡¯, which was a little alcove with the ornamental steering wheel. All things considered, she found herself in a fairly upbeat mood, not least because she had a clear goal and a chunky source of Karma to aim at. ¡°If I remember correctly, you were the first soul to point me toward a big bad Aberrant that needed smiting.¡± ¡°Yes, and if I remember correctly, I wasn¡¯t entirely forthright with my reasons for needing your help in the first place. How do we know this Dashi isn¡¯t hiding something about¡­ this whole situation with the kids and the wall and whatnot?¡± ¡°What¡¯s there to hide?¡± Serac frowned. ¡°The walls are here to protect the children from the Bone Blight. There¡¯s a bad thing that wants to break those walls, and now we¡¯ve been tasked to thwart the bad thing¡¯s wall-breaking efforts. Seems pretty straightforward to me.¡± ¡°Hm, yes, protection. Hell of a place to lock up a bunch of children and throw away the keys, don¡¯t you think? But I guess it¡¯s A-OK if it¡¯s for their protection.¡± ¡°Well, I mean, we are in hell. Not gonna get away from that anytime soon. Besides, when has trusting the locals led us astray so far? I thought after our experience at Last-Sorrow-First-Hope, you¡¯d have mellowed out with your whole lone wolf act.¡± Zacko fell silent for a moment. His sleepy expression didn¡¯t change, but Serac knew this silence to mean the two of them had reached an impasse in their argument. And sure enough: ¡°What does Trippy think about this?¡± Zacko invoked the almighty third opinion. ¡°I believe you are both entitled to your beliefs on the matter, but if I may, I could point out a different angle for you to consider.¡± ¡°Point away, Trippy. That¡¯s what you¡¯re here for.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about this Bone Lord that Dashi has referred to several times. This is in the context of the existence of a relatively novel status effect called [Ossify], as well as the fact that the highest point of Naraka in the current Kalpa has been dubbed the Bonespires by the local populace.¡± ¡°You think this has something to do with our ascension, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Precisely. You see, Pathsight-sanctioned ascension from one Realm to the next is achieved by obtaining a Mandate from the reigning Realm Immortal. This is traditionally done by one of two methods: 1) through mutual agreement, usually by performing a special favor or by passing a test of skill, or 2) the far more direct but also likely the more difficult option, which is to smite the Immortal.¡± ¡°Right. And you think this ¡®Bone Lord¡¯ dude could be the reigning Realm Immortal of Naraka?¡± At this, Zacko snapped open his eyes and straightened in his corner, not fooling anyone with his too-cool-for-school act. ¡°That is something we shall have to see for ourselves. Normally, the identity of a Realm Immortal is common knowledge among Wayfarers within the same Realm, but alas, Naraka being Naraka, we have precious few sources of ¡®common knowledge¡¯ to draw from. But if my hunch is correct, I believe doing this favor for a group of children supposedly ¡®under the Bone Lord¡¯s protection¡¯ is a step in the right direction.¡± ¡°Welp, I¡¯m sold. Guess we¡¯re doing this favor for the locals again, Zacko my boy.¡± ¡°What? What did Trippy say, exactly? Who¡ª¡± Brraaahhhhmmmmm¡­!! There it was again. Timely and loud, if a little muffled by distance. An ill-intentioned being was hammering on the walls of [the Sanctuary], same time as yesterday¡ªalmost like clockwork. Serac reacted by gripping the steering wheel and driving Ash into action. In truth, the Steed¡¯s motor had started churning of its own volition, having anticipated its master¡¯s intent. The little castle that could now circled [the Sanctuary]¡¯s perimeter, roaring ever closer to the source of the commotion. Brraaahhhhmmmmm¡­ Getting closer. As Ash moved the Wayfarers toward their target, Serac tried to assess the situation through her eyeslit. No dice. The night was too dark and the dust-storm much too thick for any reliable visuals.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Okay,¡± Serac said, more for her own benefit than Zacko¡¯s, ¡°I guess we¡¯ll just have to trust that Ash knows where it¡¯s¡ª¡± Badoom!!! Along with that resounding, almost cartoonish impact, the castle shook violently. Even as she accidentally bit her tongue, Serac checked Pathsight for information where her physical senses failed her. Ash had taken a hit, one chunky enough to rip away a quarter of its HP bar. And still, the pale-gray haze beyond the eyeslit revealed no sign of the assailant. Whatever this big bad Aberrant was, it could hit from distance¡ªpretty hard at that. The little castle that could shook off the initial hit and rumbled back into motion, braving the storm and the unseen enemy both. But it didn¡¯t take long for the second attack to land and rock the whole cabin, all while reducing Ash¡¯s HP down to its last half. ¡°It¡¯s no good!¡± Serac exclaimed, this time needing Zacko to get on the same page. ¡°We better ditch Ash for now, unless we wanna lose it until our next reconstitution!¡± The Wayfarers managed to jump out of the cabin, just in time to avoid the effects of a third artillery attack. This time, Serac was close enough to the action to see it for what it was: a large, bone-colored boulder that hurtled through the night air at speed before exploding into powder upon contact with the castle wall. The Rakshasa quickly shrank Ash into its portable form, banishing the castle to the safety of her belt. She then pulled up a scarf the children had gifted her to cover her mouth and nose, before unholstering REVOLVER and marching into the dust-storm. [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [TRIBULATION active (x2): current buff at 10%] Such was the storm¡¯s density and intensity that [Ossify]¡¯s status build-up gauge appeared within seconds of the Wayfarers being exposed to the elements. Now, they were in a race against time¡ªon top of having to contend with a boulder-flinging ill-intentioned being. Brraaahhhhmmmmm!!! The sound was very close now, as if the Wayfarers were standing right next to the point of contact. Once more, Pathsight was first to provide the pertinent information, even before Serac could make sense of what her naked eyes perceived. [Designation: HANUMAN the Huskbound Sentinel] [Aberrant Race: Bone Husk] [Aberrant Class: Field Boss] Huskbound? Sentinel?? Even as Serac tried to make sense of a highly unexpected epithet, the Aberrant in question revealed itself, first by swinging a massive fist through clouds of bone dust and onto the Wayfarers¡¯ location. ¡°Whoa!¡± Serac just about managed to sidestep the fist, which by itself was bigger than her whole torso. At first glance, the thing had a stony, rough-hewn appearance, like some kind of animate rock formation. But then the fist disappeared back into the storm, only for a foot to take its place. The stomp shook both the air and the ground with far greater force than the erstwhile punch. For a moment, the dust clouds were whipped apart by the ensuing shifts in air currents, thereby exposing the Aberrant¡¯s whole frame to the wide-eyed scrutiny of a Rakshasa who barely reached the height of its shin. And Serac finally saw the undeniable truth of ¡®Huskbound¡¯ in Hanuman¡¯s epithet¡ªas well as the rationale behind ¡®Sentinel¡¯. It was a giant Rakshasa statue, with every inch of its enormous frame filled in by compacted Bone Husks. Where [the Sanctuary] was a domed structure that shielded innocent souls from the ravages of the Bone Blight, [the Sentinel] was its corollary, both in name and form¡ªa Huskbound colossus to stand guard over a safe haven for Rakshasa children. So then¡­ why was it that [the Sentinel] was trying to break down [the Sanctuary]? Serac had no time to puzzle out the riddle. For Hanuman now swung down again with a boulder-sized fist, one clearly aimed to crush a Rakshasa-sized Rakshasa into Souldust. The motion was frighteningly fast for something so large, and she barely backstepped out of the way, feeling the air shift just beyond the tip of her nose. Badoom! With another resounding crash, the fist disintegrated into bone dust before Serac¡¯s eyes. She blinked and searched frantically for the second party involved. Then, as the dust cleared, she saw. Zacko the NINEFOLD master stood on one leg, with the other pointed straight into the air. He¡¯d parried the giant¡¯s punch with [The Seventh Dao¡ªStaff], and now stared up at his opponent with his usual irreverent smile. Serac saw this and smirked to herself. She knew full well the reason for the Manusya¡¯s sudden and dramatic shift in attitude. For now that Zacko had confirmed there were no ghosts involved in the boss fight, he was eager for a chance to redeem himself. Well, destroying one of the boss¡¯s hands was as good a start as any. Only¡­ the boss¡¯s hand didn¡¯t stay destroyed. Even as Serac¡¯s eyes widened anew in astonishment, and even as Zacko¡¯s smile curled into a sneer of excitement, the Huskbound Sentinel rebuilt itself. The individual Husks that made up its rough-hewn body broke apart and rapidly formed into a new shape, becoming a giant that was slightly less giant than before, but with two intact fists ready to throw more hefty punches. So¡­ this boss has got hands and can regrow new hands if it loses them. But Hanuman¡¯s reconstructive ability wasn¡¯t the only new wrinkle that set it apart from the previous bosses. For try as she might, Serac couldn¡¯t find its HP bar. ¡°Zacko?¡± she yelled across the dust-storm. ¡°You seeing this?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± he yelled back, sounding far happier than he had any right to, ¡°or not seeing, in this case. But¡­ even without an HP bar, I think we do have a ready-made visual marker for how much damage we¡¯re doing to this thing.¡± Serac nodded, readily interpreting Zacko¡¯s roundabout speech. This fight was to be a race, alright. A race to see which happened first: A) the Wayfarers¡¯ [Ossify] gauges to fill up, or B) the Huskbound Sentinel to lose all of its component Husks. 39. Rock-on-Rock 39. Rock-on-Rock Serac Edin, by virtue of the Instrument she¡¯d transmuted, was a Wayfarer of the gunslinging variety. Every problem she¡¯d encountered so far in her journey she¡¯d been able to solve by shooting it in the face. Granted, some problems required more creative solutions than others, but¡ªby and large¡ªshe¡¯d been happy to rely on REVOLVER and its six chambers to come through when it mattered most. Imagine her surprise and dismay, then, to discover that here was one problem she couldn¡¯t shoot to bits. The first thing she tried was a garden variety unimbued shot, only to find she might as well have blown dust on her enemy. The bullet barely left a dent as it made contact with Hanuman¡¯s Huskbound armor. Across the battlefield, Zacko the NINEFOLD master sidestepped Hanuman¡¯s stomp before laying into the giant¡¯s foot with a right-fisted punch¡ªthrown from a wide, solid stance. [The Third Dao¡ªCestus]. Badoom! Along with that meaty sound effect, more of the Sentinel¡¯s body burst into powder. Hanuman reacted by backing off a step, regrowing a new foot as it did. The giant shrank down by another size, but that only seemed to make it nimbler and more aggressive. It demonstrated this newfound aggression by throwing a punch right back at Zacko. Mano-a-mano and skill-to-skill. Serac watched it all go down¡ªwas allowed to watch¡ªbecause her opponent had already decided to ignore her completely. This wasn¡¯t a case of Zacko drawing aggro, but rather of Serac losing aggro entirely, due to just how little threat she presented. This won¡¯t do. For all she knew, Zacko could take this Huskbound Sentinel all by his lonesome, but that would result in 100% of the Karma being funneled his way. It wasn¡¯t that she begrudged the Manusya his Karma (gods knew he needed it), but more that she couldn¡¯t forgive herself for sitting on the sidelines and losing out. She needed to find a way to ¡®contribute¡¯ to the fight and quickly. By now, she was experienced enough to be cognizant of the breadth of options at her disposal. No need for either version of Trippy to prod her into action. The next thing to try was to switch up the damage type¡ªa recent lesson taught to her by Bhootas. [Chamber One: BLOOD FOR BLOOD] [HANUMAN Status Effect: BLEED] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BLEED] [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] Serac had intended this exchange only as a means to imbue her bullets with Infernal damage. Knowing the boss¡¯s lack of an HP bar, she hadn¡¯t expected [Bleed] to produce any discernible effects on Hanuman itself. Imagine her surprise and wonderment, then, to discover that even a Huskbound giant could leave a visible trail of blood. ¡°It¡¯s really not as surprising or wondrous as you make it out to be, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy was quick to offer his two ?. ¡°You should know that our bones¡ªor, more specifically, the marrow within them¡ªare the very wellspring of our blood. Which is to say, bones do bleed, and you shouldn¡¯t expect this set of bones to behave any differently. Besides, you¡¯ve already seen ghosts bleed. Is it really a bridge too far for statues to bleed too?¡± That bit of characterful (and lore-friendly) anatomy lesson aside, Serac refocused on the task at hand. If Physical bullets were a no-go, could converting them to Infernal make the difference? The answer was a callous and unequivocal no. The newly magical bullets, even when imbued with a visibly black aura, merely bounced off the Huskbound armor, not even leaving a mark. Meanwhile, Hanuman and Zacko continued their crunchy, dusty duel, with neither paying a Rakshasa gunslinger the slightest of attention. Okay, okay. The .44 Special can¡¯t even tickle this giant statue. Could I maybe¡­ set it on fire? [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [173!] If Serac hadn¡¯t imagined it, the gut punch she inflicted on herself with every activation of [Catharsis] seemed to increase in severity, proportionate to the amount of HP lost. As powerful a spell as it was, she hated casting it. And on the rare occasion she did, she¡¯d hope for it to at least make a difference in the fight. No such luck. [Catharsis]¡¯s black flames of penitence fizzled out just as soon as it touched Hanuman¡¯s armor. Reminiscent of its inefficacy against Ashvanaga¡¯s castle walls, except on this occasion, it didn¡¯t even come with a damage notification as a consolation prize. [TRIBULATION active (x2): current buff at 10%]A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The reduction in [Tribulation] stacks told Serac that the [Bleed] effect had run out on both Hanuman and herself. Now, she was back to square one with a cylinder full of unimbued bullets that could do nothing to their target. Welp. Now I¡¯m well and truly out of options. I guess this fight just isn¡¯t meant for me. All I can do is sit on the sidelines and watch¡ª ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something, Wayfarer?¡± Trippy again, and if Serac hadn¡¯t imagined it¡ªwas that a note of annoyance in his voice? ¡°You¡¯ve got limbs. Consider putting them to use.¡± Serac gasped in surprise. Now, where have I heard that one before? But there was a time and place for reminiscing about old friends, and in the middle of a boss fight wasn¡¯t it. She quelled her own shock, ignored a slight prickling sensation just behind her right ear, and refocused on the task at hand. Hanuman¡¯s attention was still fully trained on Zacko and his NINEFOLD techniques. Which gave Serac plenty of room to sneak up behind the increasingly-less-giant giant and land a left-fisted punch of her own. For any Wayfarer worth her salt should never be entirely reliant on one Instrument to come through when it mattered most. [Auxiliary Technique: THE GRIND] PULVERIZER sank its jagged teeth into Hanuman¡¯s ¡®calf¡¯, taking no time to pulverize a whole lower leg into pale-gray powder. Thus, where pot shots with lead bullets had failed, good old rock-on-rock violence proved to be the answer. This, at least momentarily, caused the giant to lose its balance. Zacko, positioned on the other side of the statue, didn¡¯t miss his chance to inflict double punishment on the boss. He attacked Hanuman¡¯s intact shin with a rigid open palm, producing a satisfying ¡®smack!¡¯ upon impact. [Auxiliary Technique: THE SECOND DAO¡ªFAN] With both legs gone, Hanuman dropped to the ground and tipped over. Finally, Serac thought, this must be a giant regenerating statue¡¯s version of Poise-break. But, by then, the giant statue had shrunk so much that it was closer to the Wayfarers in height than to its original size. With an agility afforded only by its newfound compactness, Hanuman pushed against the ground with both arms, then somersaulted into the air. Both Wayfarers stood and watched, slack-jawed. The statue gracefully completed a full rotation, before landing on two feet¡ªnewly regrown while it was still in the air. The fight wasn¡¯t over yet! At this point, Serac couldn¡¯t help but steal a glance at the status bar that took up the center of her Pathsight. [Ossify] had filled up to at least three-quarters full and still ticked steadily. Surely, the Wayfarers were only a few more good hits away from finishing Hanuman off. And yet¡­ could they risk continuing the fight when they were so close to becoming Bone Husks themselves? As Serac and Zacko were caught in a moment of indecision, it was Hanuman that made the first move. It unlocked the stand-off by¡­ turning tail and running away. What the hell? Serac stared at the boss¡¯s back, dumbfounded. The statue moved through the stormy night air with surprising speed and was already moments away from disappearing into the clouds of bone dust. ¡°Oh no, you don¡¯t!¡± Zacko was the first to react, breaking into a sprint with every intention to chase the statue into the dust-storm. Within the space of a fraught Ksana, Serac analyzed the unexpected and still evolving situation. Hanuman in its current form was fast, and it¡¯d take Zacko some time to catch up. And even if he did catch up, there was no guarantee he could end the fight quickly enough to avoid becoming fully [Ossified]. ¡°Stop!¡± Serac commanded at the top of her lungs, breathing in more bone dust as she did. ¡°I¡¯ve got a better idea!¡± No time to lose, and therefore no time to explain. Serac unclipped Mini-Ash from her belt and imagined its ¡®Interstitial form¡¯ spilling back out into the physical world. Crreeeaaaakkkkk¡­!! Along with a war-cry only a living castle could produce, Ash plopped down on the battlefield, fully formed. Serac wasted no time jumping onto its wall and hopping to the top of the battlement with several lithe motions. From there, it was a simple matter of doing what she did best. Aim, lock, fire. Except, instead of a .44 Special cartridge fired from a six-shooter, the projectile that flew through the night sky was a [Blood-Tipped Javelin], thrown by Serac¡¯s arm. By then, Hanuman¡¯s escaping figure was fully obscured by dust clouds. But Serac trusted in her own instincts, and trusted in the powerful flight of Ash¡¯s [Javelin]. After a fraught Ksana or two, her faith was vindicated by a Pathsighted notification: [HANUMAN Status Effect: BLEED] ¡°There,¡± Serac half-announced half-sighed-in-relief. ¡°That should do it for now.¡± ¡°Wait, that¡¯s your brilliant idea?¡± Zacko yelled up from ground level. ¡°To let our mark get away anyway¡­ except now with a [Javelin] sticking out of its ass?¡± ¡°A [Javelin] that¡¯s going to leave behind a trail of blood,¡± Serac explained patiently. ¡°A trail for us to follow. Once we¡¯ve freshened up with a bit of reconstitution. Now, come on! Let¡¯s get back inside before our [Ossify] gauges fill up.¡± Zacko reluctantly obeyed, grumbling to himself all the while. Once the Wayfarers were safely inside their castle, [Ossify]¡¯s build-up stopped, then began to tick down in the opposite direction. The healing effect wasn¡¯t as instantaneous as when they¡¯d been covered in Dashi¡¯s lantern light, but at the very least, the two of them now had the time to regroup and reassess. ¡°So, what now?¡± Zacko demanded, still in a foul mood for having his smiting interrupted. ¡°Are we gonna follow with Ash, or what?¡± ¡°Nah, don¡¯t think that¡¯s practical,¡± Serac replied, her thoughts forming even as she spoke them. ¡°Can¡¯t see shit through the eyeslit. And besides, we already know Hanuman has a way to deal with Ash before we can even get close.¡± ¡°So then¡­ we follow on foot? But what about the bone dust? The storm might settle if we wait until the morning, but by then, I¡¯ll bet the trail of blood will be gone too.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll bet you¡¯re right,¡± Serac said slowly, still thinking. ¡°I think, for this next part, we¡¯re gonna need some help. We¡¯ll need the locals to do us a favor.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± Serac nodded, and rather unhappily at that. ¡°We¡¯ll have to talk to Dashi again. See if we can¡¯t renegotiate the terms of our quid pro quo.¡± 40. The Heart of the Storm 40. The Heart of the Storm The Wayfarers made a midnight crossing of the Badlands, with a helpful local in tow. Even Serac was surprised when Dashi had offered to accompany them on foot. Yet here he was, lighting the way forward as Serac herself kept her eyes on a fading trail of blood. She would¡¯ve been perfectly happy to ¡®borrow¡¯ the lantern, assuming Dashi could be persuaded to lend it. His counteroffer, however, had come from a place of courage rather than mistrust. ¡°The two of you are putting your body and soul on the line to keep my friends safe,¡± the boy had said in that mild-mannered, too-mature way of his. ¡°The least I can do in return is to be your guiding light in the darkness.¡± As grateful as Serac was for the boy¡¯s assistance, she still had misgivings about bringing an Anchored soul¡ªsuch a young one at that¡ªto a boss fight. Zacko, on the other hand, had no such qualms¡ªor if he did, he played it off with a gruff show of approval. ¡°We¡¯ll make a man out of you yet, kid,¡± the Manusya said, voice noticeably tight, while Serac rolled her eyes behind him. ¡°Come and fight with us. For your friends.¡± That had been when Serac checked her eye-roll. For Zacko sounded sincere enough in his own right, and she knew how much the man cared, despite his repeated claims to the contrary. Thus, two Wayfarers and a Rakshasa boy made a midnight crossing of the Badlands, following a trail left behind by a Huskbound giant. And it was this giant¡¯s peculiar characteristics that had a sentient six-shooter racking his non-existent brains. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking, Wayfarer, about the ways to ¡®damage¡¯ Hanuman the Huskbound Sentinel,¡± Trippy announced. He¡¯d been doing a lot of that lately¡ªthinking on his own. ¡°In the absence of HP, it clearly isn¡¯t Attack Value that¡¯s making the difference between Zacarias Borges-Juventus¡¯s NINEFOLD techniques and the pitiful display of REVOLVER¡¯s bullets.¡± Pitiful? Them¡¯s fighting words, Trippy! ¡°Which has led me to conclude that the destruction of Hanuman¡¯s individual parts is adjudged by the interactions between an entirely different set of parameters. My theory is that it¡¯s a Poise check rather than an AV check. Case in point, the success of PULVERIZER¡¯s [Grind], which we can assume is higher in Poise damage than an unimbued bullet or even the first stage of [Catharsis].¡± I mean, I guess that checks out with what happened during the first fight. But where does that leave me then? Just run around like a headless chicken and get in PULVERIZER punches whenever I can? I¡¯m so slow and clumsy with this thing¡­ not like Zacko¡¯s fancy hiyah moves. ¡°Normally, I¡¯d categorize any Wayfaring deficiency as a ¡®skill issue¡¯. However, in this particular case, I believe you may be forgiven for blaming your ¡®build¡¯. Perhaps, later on in your journey, when you¡¯ve unlocked more of REVOLVER¡¯s powers, you¡¯d be much better prepared for a challenge of this nature.¡± Trippy sounded friendly and reasonable enough, but Serac couldn¡¯t help but feel like her ego had been slapped around some more. Besides¡ª I can¡¯t afford to wait on ¡®later¡¯, though, can I? Hanuman is a problem right now. A problem that¡ª ¡ªwas far bigger than she could¡¯ve imagined. The trail of blood finally ended¡ªnot because it¡¯d led back to its source¡ªbut because it got swallowed up by the densest, angriest, most Blight-spewing dust cloud on any side of the Sanzu River. The world beyond Dashi¡¯s lantern was now a uniform mass of pale-gray, with not a single speck of Naraka¡¯s night peeking through. The winds whistled and the dust particles battered the borders of light, producing audible drumming noises like rain against glass. Even inside the light¡¯s radius was no longer the safe zone it should¡¯ve been. As the trio inched their way forward, they found themselves having to wade through a rising pool of bone-colored sand that had saturated the Badland¡¯s uneven terrain. They¡¯d walked into the heart of the storm. This was where the bone dust was at its densest, angriest, and deadliest¡ªso much so that it could penetrate the lantern¡¯s magical barrier. [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [TRIBULATION active (x2): current buff at 10%] And as the dreaded bone-colored status bar manifested anew, Serac spared her first thought for Dashi¡ªthe innocent who¡¯d voluntarily dragged himself into the Wayfaring business. Even now, patches of solidified bone dust left their Blighting mark upon the boy¡¯s flimsy body, starting from his twig-thin legs and working their way up. ¡°Leave us, Dashi!¡± Serac shouted to be heard over the storm. ¡°Get out of here while you still can!¡± ¡°No,¡± came the immediate reply, steady in its resolve. ¡°I won¡¯t leave while I could still be of use. The lantern still provides some degree of protection, do you see?¡± Serac did see (and didn¡¯t stop to wonder how Dashi knew), in the much reduced rate at which the [Ossify] gauge ticked up. The lantern¡¯s magic was¡ªat least partially¡ªcounteracting the severity of the storm. But that only served to buy the Wayfarers some time. Time within which they needed to finish what they¡¯d started and bring an innocent, brave child to safety.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Appreciate it, kid!¡± Zacko yelled from the head of the group, voicing what Serac couldn¡¯t in her rising anxiety. ¡°I promise you. I won¡¯t let your efforts go to waste.¡± Zacko didn¡¯t wait long for a chance to make good on his promise. Because, as it turned out, the Wayfarers¡¯ big smiting target was just as eager for a rematch. Hanuman¡¯s foot¡ªgiant again¡ªcame flying from the grayness above, breaking through the light barrier to slam down where Zacko had stood just a Ksana ago. The NINEFOLD master reacted in time. He twisted away from the stomp and, in the same motion, sprang back into a counter-kick, foot sharpened into a point that jabbed at the Huskbound surface with a crisp ¡®crack!¡¯. [The Eighth Dao¡ªLance]. The giant¡¯s foot disintegrated into powder that piled onto the sand beneath. If Trippy¡¯s theory had been correct, Zacko¡¯s spearing kick had passed the ¡®Poise check¡¯ against Hanuman¡¯s armor. But the boss kept itself busy, backing out of the dome of light and disappearing once more into the grayness. The Wayfarers moved apart, positioning themselves on either side of Dashi by unspoken agreement. They kept themselves on their toes and darted their eyes, not knowing where the boss might strike from next. The light broke. Hanuman emerged again, this time in its entire, shrunken-down form, barely a head taller than the Manusya it charged towards with fists raised. It took a swing, and Zacko managed to just barely hop out of the way. He then tried to counter with his own punch, but this version of Hanuman was much more mobile than the giant. It sidestepped Zacko¡¯s [Cestus] with ease before sprinting to the center of the ¡®dome¡¯¡ªto where Dashi stood, holding his lantern in his too-skinny hand. ¡°No!¡± In her desperation, Serac fired REVOLVER from the hip, wanting only to deter Hanuman¡¯s charge. The unimbued bullet bounced off a Huskbound chest, having failed its Poise check, and it¡¯d also failed to dislodge the shrunken Sentinel from its course. A course that was headed¡­ ¡­ Past Dashi and straight for Serac. [158!] Serac was knocked flat on her back as Hanuman clotheslined her high across the chest. She fought through the pain (and breathlessness) to push back onto her feet, brandishing PULVERIZER in the wild hope it might clip the boss and trigger a Poise-check. No such luck. Hanuman¡¯s shrunken form was already gone from the dome, having jumped back into the heart of the storm. ¡°Well, that¡¯s strange,¡± Zacko commented, with a casualness that rankled Serac in her freshly humiliated state. ¡°Last time, it definitely took more hits than that to bring it down to size. Is it¡­ weakened, maybe? Doesn¡¯t have the energy to maintain its giant form?¡± That¡¯s not the only strange thing, Serac thought, but stopped herself short of voicing it without more confirmation. But she was almost certain. At least for one moment, Hanuman had a clear lane to get at Dashi and snuff out the source of the Wayfarers¡¯ protection. And yet¡ª She didn¡¯t have time to finish the thought, as the light broke again. This time, a massive giant¡¯s fist flew into the dome, skimming the sand and headed straight for Serac again. Neither did she have the time to react, other than by holding out the jagged rocks on her left forearm in a defensive gesture. The PULVERIZER shield had worked wonders against Jailers back in the Damnatorium. Surely, it¡¯d come through for her again, here against a Huskbound¡ª Badoom! [363!] Serac fell on her butt again. This time, she found herself immobilized. It wasn¡¯t that she was Stamina-depleted or Poise-broken. No, she was simply in too much pain. The force of Hanuman¡¯s punch¡ªgiant version¡ªeven when blocked with PULVERIZER, had shaken Serac to the core. She prided herself as a former Penitent that had endured the worst hell could throw at her, but she now knew the truth of it. That all this time, she¡¯d been but a frog in the well, unaware of just how much pain this world and its inhabitants could dish out. ¡°How much damage?¡± Zacko¡¯s voice, now tinged with a note of real urgency, floated somewhere above Serac¡¯s head. ¡°I dunno,¡± she groaned. ¡°A lot.¡± ¡°Give me a number!¡± The edge in Zacko¡¯s voice reoriented Serac to her immediate reality. She forced herself to think and stay present. ¡°I think 300 something?¡± ¡°And that was with your shield up? Fuck. That¡¯s definitely one-shot territory, if left unmitigated.¡± Serac managed to sit up. Even as she did, her mind churned, trying to make sense of everything that had happened so far in Round 2 vs Hanuman. ¡°I think¡­ that thing can reshape itself at will,¡± she shared her conclusions. ¡°It¡¯s probably this storm that¡¯s helping it do that. And why it ran here in the first place. The little guy doesn¡¯t hit that hard, but is super quick. The big dude is slow and easier for us to dodge, but also hits like a castle when the attacks do land!¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Zacko agreed. ¡°That also means it can ¡®heal¡¯ itself whenever it¡¯s shrouded in the storm. And don¡¯t forget about [Ossify]; clock¡¯s still ticking on that front. Well, this fight just got a lot trickier¡­¡± ¡°Then, perhaps, you shouldn¡¯t fight.¡± The storm raged on all around. Yet the child¡¯s voice carried as if lifted by its own kind of music. Both Wayfarers turned to the boy, and was met by a Dashi who trembled slightly in his youthful frame. A Dashi who¡ªfor once¡ªlooked his age. ¡°Perhaps the right thing to do is to retreat,¡± he went on, voice steadier than his anxious expression let on. ¡°Reset the encounter and fight Hanuman on your own terms. I do not wish for you to risk more than you need to. On anyone¡¯s account¡ªmine or yours.¡± The suggestion was directed more to the Manusya than to the Rakshasa. For even the child had seen, as Serac herself readily conceded, that this was one fight where the NINEFOLD master was the far more prepared of the two Wayfarers¡ªboth in skill and ¡®build¡¯. Zacko appeared to take a moment, giving the suggestion its due consideration. Then his face twisted into his trademark sardonic smile, even as his hand reached for the laughing Buddha mask that hung from his waist. ¡°Something you gotta learn, kid, if you ever wanna call yourself a man,¡± Zacko said as he untied VISAGE and brought it up to his chest. ¡°It¡¯s that there are some fights you can¡¯t back down from¡ªeven if it¡¯s the right thing to do.¡± The last part of this smug one-liner was muffled by the mask that now covered Zacko¡¯s face. Serac dared not roll her eyes, lest she miss this moment of transformation. For when Zacko removed his hand, the new face behind it was no longer the familiar sight of a laughing Buddha. For VISAGE, like the two sides of a coin, contained two Aspects. And the flip-side of a [Dreamer] was a¡ª [VISAGE Aspect: SINNER] 41. Dust and Sacrifice 41. Dust and Sacrifice [VISAGE Aspect: SINNER] [MP Cost: 0] [Karma Cost: 1,000 ? per second] [Aspect Description: Channel the Aspect of the Sinner to imbue the wielder with powers of ruination¡ªthat of both himself and his enemies. HP becomes 1. All Mitigations become 0%. Convert all damage to Martial type. Gain [Berserk] for up to 15 seconds, followed immediately by forced [Poise-break].] [Addendum [BERSERK]: Reflexes, movement speed, and threat generation are massively enhanced. Gain 150% universal AV buff.] *** Instead of a laughing Buddha, the mask now showed a¡ªactually, Serac wasn¡¯t too sure if this particular face had a ready-made descriptor. Her first thought was of an old Rakshasa woman on a really bad day. It had a pair of horns, for a start, and bulging eyes that were reddish enough to pass for a resident Narakite (perhaps with a very bad thyroid condition). But the prominent bony structure¡ªcoupled with a fanged mouth frozen in a gaping, menacing sneer¡ªmade the woman look much more likely to bite someone¡¯s head off than to sit in meditation. If this was one of many ways a Rakshasa could age, Serac hoped fervently that she herself could steer well clear. Whatever was the identity of VISAGE¡¯s flip-side, it had an immediate and dramatic effect on its wearer. Zacko¡¯s entire being now simmered with a visible bright-red aura. He¡¯d also taken on a kind of palpable magnetism, one that drew Serac¡¯s full attention and riveted her in place. It soon became clear that she wasn¡¯t the only one affected by Zacko¡¯s new aura¡ªand its enhanced threat generation. Hanuman re-entered the fray, this time as a giant¡¯s arm that took up the entire diameter of Dashi¡¯s dome of light. The arm kicked up bone dust as it swept low to the ground, no doubt intent on bulldozing everything in its path. Including Dashi, Serac couldn¡¯t help but note. I guess Zacko¡¯s ¡®threat¡¯ is overwhelming all other regulating forces. But the NINEFOLD master was ready to meet the giant halfway. Zacko dashed, lightning quick, putting himself between the boy and the arm. He then ended the motion by uncoiling a right-fisted punch from a wide stance. [Sinner Aspect: THE THIRD DAO¡ªFIST OF ERUPTION] The empowered technique¡ªmore a force of nature than a feat of human athleticism¡ªdistorted the very air, sending out shockwaves even before it made contact with Hanuman¡¯s armor. A deafening ¡®BOOM!¡¯ sounded just a fraction of a Ksana after the punch was thrown¡ªthus demonstrating to Serac what it meant for something to break the sound barrier. Hanuman¡¯s forearm broke apart at the wrist, erupting into a cloud of bone dust. Zacko wasn¡¯t done there, however. He followed the initial attack with a trio of punches, each more blindingly fast than the last, before finishing off the combo with a spinning kick. [Sinner Aspect: THE SEVENTH DAO¡ªSCYTHE OF ELIMINATION] This kick too surpassed its human limits and then some, fanning out as an arc of red energy that swept through what remained of the giant¡¯s limb. And just like that, at least a fifth of Hanuman¡¯s entire body was gone in a matter of seconds. If the pattern established in the first phase of the fight were to hold, this would be where Hanuman would retreat back into the storm and ¡®heal¡¯ itself. On this occasion, however, it remained in the light, with its impulse to punish the brazen Sinner before it overriding all other guiding principles. Two arms this time, both about half the size of their predecessor. They flew towards Zacko in a coordinated effort to wall him in. But the NINEFOLD master was too fast for them. Zacko leapt high into the air, causing Hanuman¡¯s hands to slap together in prayer¡ªabsent a crushed Manusya in the middle. Watching from the side, and despite her partner¡¯s blinding fast movements, Serac knew what would come next. Whenever Zacko jumped, there was only one way the maneuver would end. [Sinner Aspect: THE SIXTH DAO¡ªHAMMER OF DEMOLITION] Head goes up, head comes down. Hard. The empowered technique¡ªmore a meteor strike than a leaping headbutt¡ªnot only erased both of Hanuman¡¯s arms in an instant, it also left a sizable impact crater. More importantly, it crushed another big chunk of the Huskbound Sentinel into bone dust. Holy hell, Serac thought, as her gaping mouth spread into a broad grin, he¡¯s going to do it! Zacko¡¯s about to finish this fight all by himself! In the moment, Serac¡¯s delight was unclouded by Karma envy or even frustrations about her own shortcomings. Zacko (who, admittedly, was usually pretty good at ass-kicking) was kicking ass with an all-time efficiency and unprecedented flair. It was simply fun to watch, and Serac allowed herself the simple joy of watching a master craftsman at work.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. When Hanuman came back into the frame, it was in its speedier tweener form¡ªfar from giant but also not quite man-sized. It came at Zacko with fists raised and feet light, all but mirroring the NINEFOLD master¡¯s stances and techniques. Zacko met the challenge with the aplomb of a seasoned warrior. He dodged one punch and blocked another with a well-timed [Shield]. The block momentarily stunned the Huskbound Boxer, which left more than enough opening for Zacko¡¯s counter-punishment. [Sinner Aspect: THE FIRST DAO¡ªEDGE OF RUINATION] The empowered technique¡ªmore the final masterstroke in a deadly duel than a karate chop¡ªripped through the opponent as a hefty red blade. It tore Hanuman¡¯s Huskbound body cleanly in half, causing both sides to scatter into dust. Victory? On this occasion, victory demanded one more push, as Hanuman¡¯s dust gathered and reshaped itself one last time¡ªinto a Huskbound Halfling that stood barely at Zacko¡¯s chest height. The thing was now shorter even than most Rakshasas of the flesh-bound variety. Hah! One such Rakshasa reveled in the scene that unfolded before her. Now¡¯s your chance to finish it off, Zacko! Take that full Karma reward, why don¡¯t you? You¡¯ve certainly earned it¡­ Victory¡ªor ruination? Zacko readjusted his stance for another attempt at a smiting blow¡­ only for that stance to break immediately, as he keeled over and fell to his knees. What? Yet, even as the question ran through a horrified Serac¡¯s mind, she already knew the answer. Poise-break. She¡¯d seen the phenomenon too many times not to recognize it on her Wayfaring partner. Whatever force powered VISAGE¡¯s Sinner Aspect was too taxing for a mortal Manusya to sustain, and Zacko was now paying the full price. Then, several things happened simultaneously¡ªsome a little too fast and some a little too slowly for Serac¡¯s liking. First, Hanuman took no pity on its opponent¡¯s misfortune, winding back a now rather unimpressive arm for its own attempt at a finishing blow. Second, Serac dashed to intercede¡ªa little too slowly for her own liking. She was momentarily caught in two minds between a speculative REVOLVER shot and a more melee-minded solution, before remembering that Hanuman, even in its vertically challenged form, was still not a problem she could shoot at. Third, another figure¡ªone even smaller than Hanuman¡¯s latest iteration¡ªentered the frame. Dashi had reacted before anyone else to Zacko¡¯s moment of vulnerability. The boy dropped his lantern onto the sand and ran forward, now putting himself between the man and the fist that would claim his life. ¡°No!¡± Serac¡¯s plea came too little too late. Hanuman¡¯s punch connected with Dashi¡¯s chest with a sickening crunch, sending the boy tumbling in Zacko¡¯s direction. The man, still Poise-broken, could do nothing but watch as the Rakshasa child flopped onto his arms like a ragdoll. Oddly enough, Dashi¡¯s interference had produced a visible effect on the Huskbound Sentinel that had thrown the punch. For a moment, Hanuman stood frozen like the statue it was, with arm and fist still held rigid, while its face remained an ever-stony mask. For this one moment, it made no move to finish its assault on a helpless opponent. That momentary delay allowed Serac to act with the decisiveness she¡¯d lacked all fight long. It was anger that drove her now. Anger at a heartless enemy, to be sure, but also anger at herself. And something even more dreadful lay beyond that anger, but for now, she forced herself to focus on what needed to be done. [Auxiliary Technique: THE GRIND] It was so simple in the end. [GREATER ABERRANT SMITED] [Waystation Privilege awarded. Current charge: 1] A boss fight that had taken two separate encounters, a trip across the Badlands, and a frenetic dance amidst the heart of the storm finally came to an end¡ªthanks to some old-fashioned rock-on-rock violence¡­ ¡­ And the sacrifice of an innocent child. ¡°Dashi!¡± Serac ran to the child¡¯s side. She paid no heed to a Hanuman that finally dissolved into Souldust (not bone), nor did she notice the incoming Karma of [4,920 ?] (with Serac, ironically enough, receiving the bonus for a smiting blow). She had eyes only for Dashi¡¯s folded, lifeless body. And ears for¡ªwas that Dashi¡¯s breathing? The boy was still alive! But just barely, judging from his shallow, erratic respiration, as well as the color that quickly drained from his cinnabar skin. ¡°Oh gods,¡± Serac whimpered, herself breathless with stress. ¡°What do we do, what do we do, what do we do? Trippy! Do I know any healing spells?¡± ¡°You do not, Wayfarer.¡± ¡°Damnit! Wait. Dashi, you know some magic healing stuff, don¡¯t you? Can you¡­ can you heal yourself? Please?¡± Dashi made no reply. If the boy did know healing spells, he was clearly in no condition to cast them. What was more, looking at him now, Serac doubted very much that Dashi knew much else other than being the sweet, innocent boy that he was. For this clearly wasn¡¯t the same child that had rescued the Wayfarers just the night before. The Dashi that now lay crumpled in Zacko¡¯s arms had every appearance of that mysterious stranger, but he¡¯d been stripped clean of that confident, impossibly mature veneer. Now, the illusion had been well and truly lifted. Serac saw Dashi the lantern boy for the young, frightened, and brave child that he was. And her heart broke anew for his dying soul. ¡°Why¡¯d you do it, kid?¡± The strangely distant sound of Zacko¡¯s voice caught Serac¡¯s attention. The Manusya had recovered his Poise, but he remained on his knees, with muscular arms wrapped gently around the scrawny child. His eyes were morose and downcast, reflecting not just the boy in his arms but also the indelible regrets that followed a Sinner to the ends of the earth. ¡°You know you shouldn¡¯t have,¡± the man continued, voice quiet but unbroken. ¡°I¡¯m a Wayfarer. I might¡¯ve lost the fight, but I could¡¯ve come back for round three. But you¡­ You know the right thing was to look after yourself. So, why¡¯d you do it, Dashi?¡± At Zacko¡¯s words, the child finally stirred. He half-opened a pair of hazy eyes, strained his discolored lips into something that almost resembled a smile, then spoke with all the strength of a mote of dust that drifted in the wind. ¡°You¡­ said it yourself¡­ Wayfarer,¡± Dashi whispered. ¡°There are¡­ some fights I can¡¯t back down from¡­ even if it¡¯s the right thing to do.¡± 42. The Dust Giveth 42. The Dust Giveth Zacko cradled Dashi in his arms while Serac held the lantern and led the way. With no blood trail to track, the Rakshasa was free to run as fast as the weather conditions would allow¡ªand run fast she did, now racing against a clock that showed no build-up bar and could run out at any moment. The whole point of Dashi accompanying the Wayfarers (and taking on lantern duty) was for the pair to work as the tag team they fancied themselves to be. And yet¡­ what did Serac contribute to the fight? One measly punch at the very end that had been made possible only with a child¡¯s sacrifice. Up until now, Serac had coasted by with survival instincts, REVOLVER¡¯s magic, and plenty of help from her companions. But this latest encounter had proven to be a rude awakening. She was weak. Ambition, even when matched by talent, wasn¡¯t enough. Survivor instinct wasn¡¯t enough. She needed something more¡ªsomething she sorely lacked and her Manusya partner had in abundance. If Serac Edin had any hope of going the distance on her Wayfaring journey, what she needed to hone was killer instinct. She saw the truth of it now, clear and unqualified. She just wished it hadn¡¯t taken an innocent¡¯s death for her to see it. But¡­ no. Dashi wasn¡¯t dead. Not yet. If they hurried¡­ if they could bring him back to [the Huskbound Sanctuary] in time, then perhaps¡ª Perhaps what? What sort of miracle did they expect? That the Waystation could be coaxed into breaking protocol and reconstituting an Anchored soul? That one of the other children had somehow inherited Dashi¡¯s mysterious powers? Speaking of the storm¡­ ¡° ¡° ¡° Someone else behind all the badness of the Badlands. Serac didn¡¯t know enough to draw up a picture of who that might be, but the question did make her think of a name she¡¯d heard recently¡­ ¡°Assuming there is sentient machination behind these phenomena,¡± Trippy chimed in then, also mirroring Serac¡¯s thoughts, ¡°I would surmise they all lead back to the Bone Lord. A storm of bone dust, a [Sanctuary] for children who spout the Bone Lord¡¯s name as their protector, and perhaps even [the Sentinel]¡ªbefore it lost its way. We¡¯re nearing the crux of the challenges that gate a Wayfarer¡¯s Path out of Naraka. I daresay that, even now, we¡¯re being tested, intentionally or otherwise.¡± ¡° ¡°¡­ I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s entirely true, Serac Edin.¡± Trippy didn¡¯t elaborate on his cryptic statement. He didn¡¯t need to. For Serac already had a similar inkling, one she hadn¡¯t quite been able to put into words. But right now, whether that inkling was accurate or not was beside the point. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that the dying child in Zacko¡¯s arms was none other than Dashi himself¡ªfree from whatever presence might¡¯ve possessed him before. And the Wayfarers owed it to the boy to do whatever in their power to save him. It took some meandering without a local¡¯s guidance, but the Wayfarers eventually made their way back to the solid walls of [the Sanctuary]. By then, enough time had passed for the night to turn over to morning, but one wouldn¡¯t know it from the way the dust clouds filled the skies. Serac squeezed through the secret entrance, still undecided on what to do next. Her first barely-an-idea was to activate the Waystation and see if it could offer any options she might¡¯ve missed previously. Failing that, she could¡ª She froze before she reached the lotus flower. Something was wrong. There was a foreign presence here inside [the Sanctuary], one that colored the air with a heavy solemnity that couldn¡¯t have come from the children. Zacko stumbled in behind her, and he too stopped on a dime. His eyes immediately fell upon the source of the ¡®wrongness¡¯, and Serac followed his gaze until she too saw the culprit.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Or the culprits, plural. Two figures rose from amidst a gaggle of children, revealing themselves to be adult Rakshasa women. One was visibly older than the other, but both appeared hale and wore identical blood-red robes and impressive armor, which made them positively radiant among a sea of scrawny children in drab clothing. ¡° Serac continued to stare, at a loss as to what to make of her fellow Rakshasa. The woman bore no apparent hostility, but that armor¡­ and the pair of daggers that hung from her belt¡­ those didn¡¯t look particularly friendly. Instinctively, Serac sought out Pathsight for some clarity, but the lack of an HP bar or a label seemed to indicate that the women were neither Aberrant nor Wayfarer. For now, she¡¯d have to rely on her own judgment. ¡° ¡° Zacko made no move to comply. Neither did he speak, instead meeting the woman¡¯s solemn gaze with narrowed eyes. Watching this exchange sidelong, Serac could understand her companion¡¯s reluctance. The younger Rakshasa had a distinct energy about her. More¡­ intense than her older partner. She¡¯d stepped forward as she made her demand, and one of her hands rested on the hilt of a sheathed sword¡ªnot with overt intent¡­ but not entirely without it, either. Seeing that Zacko wasn¡¯t about to say anything, Serac found herself interceding, if only in an attempt to ease the tension. ¡°you know a healing spell or something?¡± ¡° ¡° What is this, Good Jailer Bad Jailer? The stark difference in the two women¡¯s attitude threw Serac for a loop, and she found herself oddly enticed to give into their demand/suggestion. But Dashi was still in Zacko¡¯s arms, and he¡¯d always been the less trusting Wayfarer. Serac¡¯s mind churned, preparing an argument that might sway Zacko. To her surprise, however, the Manusya finally did move, of his own accord and towards the central mound of [the Sanctuary] where the two women stood. The sea of children, acting almost as a single unit, parted as Zacko made his way through their midst. They watched his progress and Dashi¡¯s limp body with a somberness that felt far beyond their years¡ªas if they too had been painted over by a sort of illusion. Serac shoved aside the disquieting thought, knowing that, right now, she and Zacko had little choice but to trust in the kindness of strangers. The Manusya was evidently in agreement, as he gently laid down Dashi at the womens¡¯ feet. He then stood back a little¡ªfar enough to give the women room to operate, but close enough to intervene, should he see anything untoward. Now, for the first time, Serac saw the full extent of the injury Hanuman¡¯s Huskbound fist had imprinted upon a young body. And she wished immediately that she hadn¡¯t. The boy was all but fully drained of color now, with his skin nearly as pale as that of a Hellspawn Jailer¡¯s. It wasn¡¯t hard to see why, for his entire chest was badly bruised and caved in. Poor Dashi wasn¡¯t so much bleeding out as bleeding into himself. Yet, even that badly misshapen chest still rose and fell in time with his shallow breaths. And that was why Serac didn¡¯t allow herself to look away. She owed Dashi at least that much. The younger of the Rakshasa women acted first, kneeling next to Dashi and producing a small object from behind her back. It was a¡ªjar? Urn?¡ªof sorts, one of a simple earthen make. The woman lifted the lid and poured the urn¡¯s contents directly onto Dashi¡¯s body. It was¡ªsurprise, surprise¡ªmore bone dust. The dust giveth, and the dust taketh away. In this case, the dust was clearly intended to give, as it settled onto Dashi¡¯s chest and covered his bruise in its pale-gray. Then the older woman stepped in, holding out a wrinkled hand and chanting something in a strange language. The bone dust responded to the woman¡¯s words, immediately and rather dramatically at that. The particles swept up into the air, leaving a thin layer upon the site of Dashi¡¯s injury while the rest formed a whorling, dome-like cloud over his whole body. Serac sucked in a sharp breath. Beside her, Zacko visibly tensed. But neither Wayfarer moved, for they both knew themselves to be out of their depths. Trust in the kindness of strangers. That trust had gotten them this far, hadn¡¯t it? Soon, the younger woman too stood and joined her partner in the chant. Even here, the two women differed in their demeanor. The older had her eyes closed and recited her spell with quiet, practiced confidence, whereas the younger displayed a slight awkwardness¡ªoccasionally tripping over her words, as if they were still unfamiliar to her. At first, Serac divided her attention between the women and the boy. Gradually, however, her caution waned while her wonder at Dashi¡¯s visible changes grew. For even as she watched, the color returned to the boy¡¯s skin and lips¡ªnot quite all the way cinnabar, but at least a faint rosiness that could only be a sign that he was trending in the right direction. Eventually, the women stopped their chanting and took a step back, both visibly exhausted from their efforts. At their feet, the dust cloud continued to whorl as a dome of protection¡ªperhaps not unlike [the Sanctuary] itself. ¡° ¡° ¡°Meetra.¡± 43. The Bone Maidens 43. The Bone Maidens Despite rolling in more Liminal Karma than she¡¯d seen in her life, Serac¡¯s latest leveling session proved to be a brief and unsatisfying one. The upgrade from KL-18 to 19 required a whopping 3,146 ?, taking away more than half her total and leaving an awkward 1,970 ? she couldn¡¯t ingrain. Here, she was reminded of Trippy Version 1¡¯s warnings about the ¡®downside¡¯ of a Wayfaring alliance. She likely wouldn¡¯t have made it this far without Zacko¡¯s help, but at the same time, having to share the spoils of their smitings did slow down her personal progression. After a moment of internal debate, she spent the points on [Substance] for the first time, going against her usual priority of ¡®need¡¯ over ¡®want¡¯. [REVOLVER Base AV: 111 -> 113] [PULVERIZER Base AV: 89 -> 91] [PHYSICAL Mitigation: 17.0% -> 17.6%] [ZEALOUS Mitigation: 9.7% -> 10.2%] She regretted her choice, nearly as soon as she locked it in. Two measly points of unimbued AV seemed so trifling when she could¡¯ve upped her HP and given herself a few extra bullets to work with. She consoled herself with the reminder that the two per bullet translated to 110 additional points of damage when multiplied by a full Cartridge. In a way, this latest bit of leveling had catered to a ¡®need¡¯, though not strictly in the Wayfaring sense. It was Serac¡¯s petty need to feel ¡®stronger¡¯, in the most direct sense of the word. As such, the first thing she did as she broke form meditation was to flex what passed for her biceps and try to convince herself that they looked slightly bigger than before she sat down. She tried a few different poses and any number of mental gymnastics, but to no avail. Perhaps her [Integrity] was too high. With meditation out of the way, Serac looked back towards the cavern¡¯s center, where the adult trio of Sundara, Meetra, and Zacko continued to watch over a child¡¯s healing body. She took in the image with another pang of guilt. While Serac had been busy agonizing over her puny, insecure self, Zacko had foregone his own turn at meditation to instead stand vigil over Dashi. It was clear that the two so-called ¡®Bone Maidens¡¯ had yet to fully earn the Manusya¡¯s trust. For someone who was a self-professed womanizer, Zacko certainly took his sweet time warming to any new woman he met¡ªeven ones as kindly as Sundara and as conventionally beautiful as Meetra. ¡°It¡¯s just as well, really,¡± Trippy offered his objective view on the matter. ¡°Even if Zacarias Borges-Juventus were to meditate right now, he doesn¡¯t have nearly enough Karma to do anything with it.¡± As callous an observation as that was, Trippy was right, of course. Thanks to diligent Wayfaring and some help from Secondary Transfer, Zacko had gotten so close to climbing his way out of debt. His latest activation of [Sinner Aspect], however, had undone all that good work in spectacular fashion. Trading 15,000 ? of Karma for 15 seconds of unbridled power. As awe-inspiring as that burst of power had been, the exchange rate didn¡¯t strike Serac as a fair one. The Wayfaring duo must¡¯ve Wayfared halfway across Naraka by now, yet one half of that duo was still stuck on KL-16¡ªthe same Karmic Level he was at when they¡¯d first met at the Damnatorium. That simply wouldn¡¯t do. When next the two of them might have a chance to ¡®strategize¡¯, Serac would urge Zacko to dial back his use of VISAGE even further and instead rely on her to get them through tough spots. Rely on me? When I can¡¯t even pull my own weight during a boss fight? In her moment of weakness, she let that thought sit for two Ksanas, half-hoping that Trippy might come in and offer a more balanced view to make her feel better. When no such guidance proved forthcoming, she sighed and rose to her feet, dusting off more bone-colored powder as she did. What would Version 1 think if he saw me like this? This isn¡¯t very Zen of me. Not at all. Serac forced herself to trudge over to the central mound¡ªnot because she had anything to offer, but simply because she felt self-conscious about wallowing on her own. Besides, perhaps it was high time she and Zacko learned more about these Bone Maidens and how they might figure into their journey, if at all. As she arrived, she was both heartened and a little disturbed to see that Dashi¡¯s appearance hadn¡¯t changed. A faint rosiness still colored his cheeks, but he was far from his healthy cinnabar self. Neither had he stirred an inch since the ¡®healing spell¡¯ had taken hold. ¡°How long does this usually take?¡± was the first thing Serac asked as she took a seat across from the Maidens. Beside her, Zacko remained silent and on his feet. ¡°It¡¯s not for you to question the ways of our Lord,¡± was the snappy and glare-framed response from Meetra. ¡°The long and short of it is that it depends,¡± Sundara offered, throwing a sidelong glance at her younger partner as she did, ¡°on numerous factors. The nature and extent of the injury, the constitution of the wounded party, as well as the quality of the dust itself. All we can do for now is observe¡­ and adjust our treatment accordingly.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. At this, Serac frowned slightly. She asked, ¡°This dust¡­ there¡¯re different levels of quality to it? I gotta say, it all kind of looks the same to me. This, the stuff from the storm outside, even the powder that broke off of Hanuman. How do you know if this batch¡±¡ªshe nodded toward Dashi¡¯s dust-covered chest, fighting down a queasy sensation as she did¡ª¡°is any good?¡± ¡°If you¡¯re going to disturb our work with your prattling,¡± Meetra again, her glare as cutting as her words, ¡°I insist you make yourself scarce and find better use of your time.¡± ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Meetra,¡± Sundara cajoled, voice never rising above her baseline. ¡°The Wayfarer is merely curious about the ways of our Lord. What kind of Maidens would we be if we didn¡¯t take this opportunity to bring another soul into his shroud?¡± Meetra turned sharply to her older companion, with her glare expanding into obvious surprise. She then had the grace to blush, before pursing her lips and shifting her sullen gaze to the ground. ¡°If you¡¯re a Wayfarer, then you should already be familiar with this concept,¡± Sundara continued for Serac¡¯s benefit. ¡°Just as the souls who roam the slopes of Mount Meru range widely in power and esteem, the Bones that underpin those souls also differ in their innate quality. This is why we must ever strive to bring more of Naraka¡¯s lost children into the fold, so they may bask in our Lord¡¯s shroud and grow under his guidance.¡± Despite the older woman¡¯s kindly eyes and soft-spoken words, Serac¡¯s frown deepened a touch. If anything, Sundara¡¯s ¡®answer¡¯ had only muddied the waters. It¡¯d certainly contained several loaded words here and there¡ªones a former prisoner couldn¡¯t be so quick to nod along to. ¡°It¡¯s all part of his greater plan,¡± Meetra cut in then, but not before letting out an audible tsk. It appeared she¡¯d lost patience with Serac¡¯s reluctance to get on board. ¡°The dust. The children here in their sanctuary. Even your task to subdue the Huskbound Sentinel, of which¡­ I can commend your swift success.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Serac said slowly, not at all sure that she was following. ¡°That¡­ task came straight from the Bone Lord, did it? Even though Dashi was the one who gave it to us? I am curious though. Why?¡± ¡°Why what?¡± It was Meetra¡¯s turn to deepen her frown. ¡°Why did Hanuman seem so hell-bent on breaking down the walls of this [Sanctuary]? I mean¡­ didn¡¯t Hanuman also, you know, come from Bone? Wasn¡¯t it part of your Lord¡¯s plan?¡± At this, Meetra threw a brief glance at Sundara. Serac knew that look. It was the look of someone who herself wasn¡¯t entirely sure of what she was trying to explain. ¡°This too should come as no surprise to a Wayfarer such as yourself,¡± Sundara took over smoothly, framing her own answer with a kindly smile. ¡°Even the Bone Lord¡¯s most devoted children may, on occasion, be led astray. The important thing, as you ought to know, is we find our way back onto the correct Path in time¡ªor suffer the consequences.¡± Serac couldn¡¯t help but narrow her eyes slightly, in addition to a frown that wouldn¡¯t quite unknot itself. As a hell bumpkin who¡¯d spent nearly all her life in prison, she¡¯d never profess to be a credible judge of how other souls should or shouldn¡¯t behave. Yet, she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this Sundara and her fellow Maiden weren¡¯t as Anchored as Pathsight identified them to be. She glanced up at Zacko, trying to gather from his impassive face whether he might be wrestling with the same doubts. The Manusya didn¡¯t return the look, instead persisting with his one-sided staring contest with the Bone Maidens. ¡°But¡±¡ªSerac turned back to the women¡ª¡°it was finding its way back, wasn¡¯t it? Or trying to, anyway.¡± A silent stare from both women, one in which their confusion was apparent. ¡°What was?¡± Meetra asked. ¡°Hanuman. Or the Huskbound Sentinel, as you called it. I still don¡¯t know why it was trying to kick down these walls, but somehow, I doubt it wanted to hurt the children.¡± ¡°What makes you say that?¡± ¡°Because it wouldn¡¯t hurt Dashi,¡± Serac said, finally putting to words the strange dissonance she¡¯d felt during the fight. ¡°Not intentionally anyway. Not until¡­ Dashi himself¡­¡± She stopped and took a shuddering breath. Despite her supposedly inborn ¡®Zen¡¯, Serac still had trouble leaving behind the trauma of her latest battle. ¡°Speaking of Dashi,¡± Sundara said then, smoothly redirecting the conversation, ¡°Meetra? What do you reckon?¡± ¡°I¡¯d say the progress is wanting,¡± the younger woman said, looking down at the unconscious boy with a notably softer expression than what she¡¯d spared for anyone else in the vicinity. ¡°Shall I?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Sundara replied with a perfunctory nod, her tone as mild and calming as ever, ¡°I think you shall.¡± At her senior¡¯s approval, Meetra rose to her feet, producing the same ¡®urn¡¯ with which she¡¯d previously poured bone dust onto the child¡¯s body. Across from the Maiden, Serac simply watched, with her burning questions momentarily doused by her greater need to know that Dashi would be okay. Absent any of her earlier awkwardness, Meetra strode over to a gaggle of children who¡¯d joined them on the central mound. The children also lacked their usual childish energy as they each looked up to the woman with somber, somewhat hazy eyes. Meetra took several seconds to scan the faces of these children. Her gaze eventually settled on a boy, one who was a little older and larger than Dashi but no less youthful in appearance. She beckoned for him to stand, and the boy obeyed, absent delay or hesitation. As soon as the boy got to his feet, Meetra¡ªin one smooth, practiced motion¡ªunsheathed her sword and slit his throat. Serac was too stunned to move. Too stunned to do anything but to watch in frozen horror as a second ritual of an entirely different nature unfolded before her. The boy fell limp as soon as Meetra¡¯s blade went through him. She caught his fall, then cradled him in her arms with a tender¡ªalmost loving¡ªstrength. Arterial blood, lurid in its redness, spurted and stained the Bone Maiden¡¯s robe and armor, but she seemed to pay it no mind, concentrating instead on the boy¡¯s wide-eyed expression as he held her in his dying gaze. The blood ceased its flow. The flesh dissolved into Souldust. And the Bones morphed into fine, pale-gray powder, which then streamed neatly into the open mouth of Meetra¡¯s urn. Through it all, none of the other children moved a muscle, with their somber eyes still glued onto the Bone Maiden herself. Carefully¡ªalmost lovingly¡ªMeetra re-lidded the urn and held the whole container against her chest. She then spoke a few words of soft, reverent prayer, before rejoining Sundara beside Dashi¡¯s body. As she knelt, fresh blood snaked through the stitchings upon her armor before dripping onto the ground. ¡°There,¡± Sundara announced to the group, along with a small conspiratorial smile that was clearly directed at Serac, ¡°let¡¯s hope this ¡®batch¡¯ is of a higher quality than the last.¡± 44. The Dust Taketh Away 44. The Dust Taketh Away Meetra¡¯s attention had turned fully to the injured Dashi, as she held her newly refilled urn over his body. No further word or thought was spared for the second boy whose bones had filled said urn, as if his death had been nothing more than a small detour¡ªa simple supply run before getting back on the main road. And only as the Maidens made to resume their treatment of Dashi did the Wayfarers¡ªboth at the same time¡ªspring into action. Zacko moved swiftly to Meetra¡¯s side, grabbing her by the wrist to stop her from pouring out the urn¡¯s contents. Serac jumped to her feet and unholstered REVOLVER, to be aimed at Sundara¡¯s kindly smile. The four adults held their new tableau for several tense seconds, while the children all around finally moved of their own volition¡ªbacking away in droves, as if they¡¯d sensed the violence that was about to explode from their center. It was the strangest thing. They¡¯d been so calm and docile as Meetra cut down one of their number in cold blood. Yet, now, as the Wayfarers drew their weapons to confront the murderer, the children withdrew in fear. It was strange¡ªor it was just another part of a ¡®greater plan¡¯. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Sundara was the first to break the silence, with nary a change in her manners. ¡°I was given to understand that you were as invested in this boy¡¯s recovery as we are. Do you not wish for us to proceed?¡± ¡°After seeing what you did to the other child?¡± Zacko spoke up for the first time in an age, voice low yet simmering with barely controlled rage. ¡°No thanks. I think I¡¯d rather Dashi take his chances on his own.¡± ¡°Fool!¡± Meetra snarled, not bothering to control her rage. ¡°Do you presume to know better than our Lord? It¡¯s only by the grace of his dust that all within his dominion may aspire to be more than what we are.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t presume anything,¡± Serac answered, her own voice tremulous with an anger that matched Zacko¡¯s, ¡°because we don¡¯t know anything about your Lord or what he stands for. Other than that, apparently, he¡¯s okay with killing an innocent child!¡± ¡°Only so another may live,¡± Sundara said calmly, with all the air of a teacher explaining fractions to a restless student. ¡°Dashanan is the Bone Lord¡¯s chosen vessel: his eyes, ears, and mouth, so he may spread his good word to all the downtrodden souls that need to hear it. That is why all the children gathered here would gladly give themselves, in service of the best among them. Now, would you stand down and let us proceed¡ªor would you rather trample on this child¡¯s sacrifice?¡± At this, Meetra let out a hiss of pain. For a moment, Serac found this strange, until she realized that Zacko¡¯s grip on the Maiden¡¯s wrist had tightened another notch. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve just convinced me you¡¯re full of shit,¡± the Manusya growled, ¡°because you clearly have no idea what you¡¯re talking about. Sacrifice isn¡¯t something you impose on another. It¡¯s something every soul has to choose for himself.¡± Serac gasped, recognizing in her companion¡¯s speech a sentiment she herself had expressed not long ago. Yet, she also sensed that she hadn¡¯t been its inspiration. For this came from Zacko himself¡ªa truth that, for whatever reason, was near and dear to his heart. ¡°Believe what you want,¡± came the retort from Meetra, dripping with venom that hid her pain. ¡°If you oppose us, then you oppose our Lord. And do not think us so meek that we would let that stand.¡± ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Zacko said, his lips curling into a mirthless smile. ¡°And just how do you plan on punishing us? Shouldn¡¯t need to remind you that we¡¯re Wayfarers, and we¡¯ve dealt with our fair share of angry souls who tried and failed to put us in our place. If you know what¡¯s good for you, you¡¯ll leave Dashi and the children alone. Leave this place, right now, and never come back.¡± Meetra made no reply, but both her and Zacko¡¯s interlocked arms began to shake. A power struggle brewed beneath their barbed words, and it was only a matter of time before something had to give. ¡°Be careful, Wayfarer.¡± That was when a third opinion made itself heard, taking Serac by surprise. ¡°Do not forget what I said about your options for ascension. Whatever choice you make, in this very moment, may well burn bridges that you could never rebuild.¡± Serac readily understood Trippy¡¯s meaning. To cross the Maidens here would likely be tantamount to declaring war on the Bone Lord. No more working with him to obtain a ¡®Mandate¡¯¡ªa hall pass to let the Wayfarers through to the next Realm up. Instead, they¡¯d be committing themselves to the second path to ascension, that of smiting the Realm Immortal himself. And yet¡­ was it even a choice? Serac Edin didn¡¯t have any parents (that she knew of), but if she did, they wouldn¡¯t have raised her to be someone who¡¯d turn a blind eye to child sacrifice just to make her own life easier. Somehow, she also knew she could say the same for Zacarias Borges-Juventus. ¡°Our Lord would want us to avoid unnecessary bloodshed,¡± Sundara was saying now, with a touch of annoyance finally creeping into her even keel, ¡°so we¡¯ll give you a final warning, Wayfarers. You have five seconds to stand down and put away your weapons¡ªto find your way back to the correct Path. Five, four¡ª¡± ¡°There¡¯s no need for a countdown,¡± Serac cut in coldly, with REVOLVER still pointed squarely in the older woman¡¯s face. ¡°Our minds are made up. If we¡¯re gonna do this, let¡¯s take it outside, yeah? Don¡¯t want any more innocent souls getting caught in the crossfire.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Sundara stared back at her, past the barrel of REVOLVER. After a beat, she let out a reluctant sigh. ¡°Very well,¡± she said simply¡­ then sprang into action. Before either Wayfarer could react, Sundara whipped out one of her daggers and ran it through the urn in Meetra¡¯s hand. The urn broke apart with a sharp crack, before spilling its contents into the air. What happened next took both Wayfarers by complete surprise. First, the newly released bone dust exploded. It pushed Serac and Zacko away from the epicenter while spreading itself into yet another dome, one that nearly matched [the Sanctuary] in size and shape. [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [TRIBULATION active (x2): current buff at 10%] Along with the reappearance of that dreaded build-up gauge, the Bone Maidens also transformed. Gone were the kindly Sundara and conventionally beautiful Meetra, and in their place rose¡­ ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Serac¡¯s first thought was that the Rakshasa women had somehow grown new sets of horns¡ªand lots of them. But that couldn¡¯t be right, because she didn¡¯t know of any horns that were so long, slender, and sharp¡ªhorns that jutted out from a Rakshasa¡¯s chest, back, and seemingly every joint on their person. Then she realized that the countless onyx blades that had torn the Maidens¡¯ bodies asunder were extensions of their bones. Rib cages flared out from their open chests. Spines spiked from their backs like the deformed ridges on a reptilian beast. Shoulders, elbows, hips, and knees had made way for sword-like projections that enlarged and serrated the women¡¯s silhouettes. Even their faces had taken on a gaunt, almost skeletal appearance, lit by bulging whiteless eyes and containing none of their kindness and beauty. The Rakshasa women were no more, and left in their place were soldiers made only to do the Bone Lord¡¯s bidding. And Pathsight, too, finally recognized them for what they were: [Designation: SUNDARA Avatar of the Bone Lord] [Designation: MEETRA Avatar of the Bone Lord] [Aberrant Race: Bone Maiden] [Aberrant Class: Dungeon Boss] Yet, even as these fearsome creatures bore down on her, Serac first stole a glance at the center of the mound. Dashi still lay there, motionless and undisturbed within his own pocket of protection. The Bone Maidens clearly meant what they said about wanting to preserve him, which also meant the Wayfarers could fight back with impunity. Starting with¡ª Serac re-trained REVOLVER¡¯s sights on Sundara (though it was now difficult to tell the two Maidens apart) and fired off three unimbued bullets in quick succession. To her shock and dismay, none of them elicited the impact and damage notification she¡¯d expected. Instead, they all bounced harmlessly against an onyx shield that had sprung up in front of the Maiden¡ªcollected and solidified from the bone dust that floated all around. What? That¡¯s cheating! Serac inwardly protested, even as she raised her own PULVERIZER shield to meet her opponent¡¯s response. Sundara countered by slashing the air with her twin daggers. It was an impressive flurry of moves (six of them, to be exact), but enough distance separated the two combatants that Serac should¡¯ve been safe from¡ª [25!], [73!], [77!], [81!], [85!], [89!] -> [430!] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BLEED] [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] Serac fell to her knees, Poise-broken. And her Poise hadn¡¯t been the only thing that broke. Her mind did, too, trying to understand just what in hell had happened. Sundara had let fly her six-hit combo from a fair distance away, with the stunted blades of daggers, no less. Yet, each of the six slashes had hit Serac from distance¡ªwith only the first one mitigated by PULVERIZER, while the rest found their target in Rakshasa flesh. It¡¯d happened so fast that Serac couldn¡¯t quite see it. But she saw the aftermath now, plainly enough, in the wavy distortions of bone dust that separated her from the Maiden. ¡°Sundara¡¯s blades sent out projections via the air,¡± Trippy confirmed what Serac was starting to understand. ¡°This is not good, Wayfarer. As long as you remain within this dome of bone dust, you¡¯ll face the full power of the Bone Maiden¡¯s magic.¡± Knowing about the ¡®not good¡¯ didn¡¯t help Serac one bit. For even as she willed herself out of her Poise-break and rose to her feet, her opponent had already unleashed another flurry of Bone-projected daggers. And this time, Serac failed to block even one slash. [69!], [73!], [77!], [81!], [85!], [89!] -> [474!] By recovering her Poise, Serac had managed to avoid the critical multiplier. In this case, however, it mattered very little, as the combined damage was enough to shave off the last of her HP. ¡°Fuck.¡± That utterance hadn¡¯t come from Serac (even though she did agree with it whole-heartedly). Instead, it was the NINEFOLD master, who himself knelt upon the mound, Poise-broken and impaled through the chest by an onyx blade. Meetra stood over him in her full, Bone-riven glory, with her characteristic glare made all the more striking by her skeletal features. Fuck. Serac thought into the Interstitium even as her flesh turned to Souldust. For all their big talk, both Wayfarers had succumbed to the Bone Maidens¡ªand rather easily at that. Now, while they waited to be reconstituted, the children¡ªand Dashi¡ªwould be at the Bone Maidens¡¯ mercy. Just before her consciousness faded completely, she heard one of the Maidens speak. The voice was so rough, so distorted, and so un-Rakshasa-like that it was impossible to tell if it¡¯d issued from Sundara or Meetra. In the end, however, it mattered very little. ¡°You¡¯ve made your choice, Wayfarers, and have strayed too far from the Path. You¡¯ve forever denied yourselves our Lord¡¯s favor, and now, you must suffer the consequences.¡± 45. The Believers 45. The Believers When next the Wayfarers became whole again, they were forced to reckon with all that had scattered into dust. [The Huskbound Sanctuary] was, once again, a picture of calm and eerie complacency. Sundara, Meetra, and their terrifying, Bone-riven figures were gone. So was Dashi, presumably whisked away by the Maidens to continue his convalescence elsewhere. The other children still remained, and they were back to their usual restless selves, as if the Maidens¡¯ departure had released them from their own illusory prison. If anything, they were livelier than Serac had ever seen them: playing games, drawing pictures, and some even chasing each other around the caverns. In a way, their playfulness felt almost vulgar, especially given the gruesome death of one of their number a mere few hours ago. In another, very important way, however, this buzz of activity felt much more preferable to the alternative. This is the way children ought to behave. Focus on having fun. Leave the doom and gloom to the adults. Serac didn¡¯t know much, but she knew this to be an incontrovertible truth. She also knew she wanted to be the kind of Wayfarer who could uphold the sanctity of that truth everywhere she went. Welp. Would¡¯ve been nice to start by smiting a couple of Bone Maidens who were diametrically opposed to her way of thinking. Would¡¯ve also been nice not to have lost 1,970 ? of Liminal Karma to said Maidens¡ªone more setback in a journey that¡¯d certainly had its peaks and valleys. This moment right here definitely felt like a valley¡ªabout as low as Serac could go. Yet, there was no point moping about it. If she was at her low point, that also meant there was nowhere to go but up. Speaking of low points¡­ ¡°Just had a look around,¡± Zacko announced as he squeezed through [the Sanctuary]¡¯s secret entrance. ¡°The storm¡¯s just about died down completely. I reckon we¡¯d be fine to go on for a bit¡ªeven without Dashi¡¯s lantern.¡± Speaking of low points, the Manusya wasn¡¯t much better off. If anything, he was in an even deeper hole, having lost his share from Hanuman¡¯s smiting on top of the Karma he¡¯d already burnt with [Sinner Aspect]. What Zacko needed most wasn¡¯t so much a Wayfaring partner as a financial planner. ¡°So, Dashi¡¯s gone and the storm¡¯s gone with him,¡± Serac mused as she stood from her meditation/daydream session. ¡°You think it¡¯s a coincidence?¡± ¡°No,¡± Zacko said flatly, mirroring Serac¡¯s own conclusion. ¡°What did those hags say about him? That he was the Bone Lord¡¯s ¡®chosen vessel¡¯? I don¡¯t know what that means exactly, but I¡¯m willing to bet Dashi is the heart of the storm.¡± ¡°And that means,¡± Serac added thoughtfully, ¡°if we try to chase after him, we¡¯d also eventually run back into the storm.¡± ¡°Yup. And this time without any form of protection. Got any ideas for a workaround?¡± ¡°Nope. Trippy?¡± ¡°None, Wayfarer. A solution might¡¯ve been available had you resolved your differences with the Bone Maidens in a more amicable manner. But alas, I believe that option is closed to us permanently.¡± Jeez, tell us how you really feel, why don¡¯t you? What Trippy said might be objectively correct, but it was also a moot point, given where Serac stood ¡®ethically¡¯. Whatever the Bone Lord and his believers were selling, the Wayfarers weren¡¯t buying. ¡°I guess it¡¯s that time again,¡± Serac said with a shrug. ¡°Time to canvass the locals for some advice.¡± ¡°Locals?¡± Zacko echoed dubiously. ¡°You mean¡­ these kids?¡± ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t see any other locals around. Unless you wanted to try the Bhoo¡ª¡± ¡°No, the kids are good,¡± Zacko said quickly. ¡°But¡­ you really think they¡¯d be much help?¡± ¡°Only one way to find out.¡± Serac waded her way into the sea of playing and chattering children, glad just to have something to do. Yet, for all her enthusiasm, the kids proved to be somewhat tough nuts to crack. Now that Dashi the leader figure was gone¡ªor perhaps because the recent violence was still fresh on their minds¡ªthe Rakshasa children reacted to the Wayfarers¡¯ presence with apparent caution. As Serac drew near, they stopped their games and backed away, eyeing her as one might a wild dog that could snap at any moment. It was disheartening¡ªeven a little hurtful¡ªbut Serac forged ahead, keeping her eyes peeled for an opportunity to earn the children¡¯s trust. One such opportunity presented in the form of a solitary girl who was busy drawing in the sand with her index finger. She was a tiny little thing¡ªmaybe the smallest creature Serac had ever laid eyes on¡ªand she neither ran away nor looked up as the Wayfarer approached, absorbed as she was in her project. Serac knelt down beside the girl, slowly as not to startle her. For some time, she merely watched the artwork come to life, which, as it turned out, was a veritable tapestry of rather epic proportions. A large assembly made up of tens, perhaps even hundreds of horned stick figures. They were Rakshasas of widely varying sizes, all gathered in discrete groups and engaged in one activity or another. Some were kids in dynamic running poses¡ªplaying tag like the ones in this very [Sanctuary]. Another depicted a tall figure¡ªlikely an adult¡ªholding up a roughly rectangular object while a throng of smaller figures sat around him in a circle. It took lifer Serac a second or two to realize that this must be a classroom, complete with a teacher reading to his students.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Did that mean this whole thing was a school? But no, there were other activities that suggested an even larger scale. A cauldron that sat atop a furnace (the non-torturous variety), with a line of hungry souls waiting for their bowl of stew. The image, despite its crude construction, made Serac¡¯s mouth water, as she tried and failed to remember the last time she¡¯d eaten anything other than hot coal shoved into her by a Jailer. Another group had gathered around a lotus flower that was even bigger than the largest Rakshasa among them. A Hubstation. And the souls that had gathered here did so in dance and celebration, much like the Hopers Serac had gotten to know on the other side of the Sanzu River. Then there were houses. These too took a lifelong inmate several attempts to interpret. She¡¯d never seen nor been inside one herself, and the only settlement she¡¯d passed through so far had living quarters carved out of the side of a cliff. As soon as she understood what she was looking at, however, she felt her chest tighten with a yearning that was at once alien and nostalgic. For she understood that houses were where families gathered in warmth, companionship, and nurturance¡ªa sanctuary in the truest sense of the word. The object of Serac¡¯s greatest desire¡ªher hanging fruit. Her eyes fell upon one simple house in particular, populated by exactly three souls: a tiny stick figure joining hands with two much larger ones. She saw this, and was finally moved to words. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked the artist, quietly as not to startle her. The girl¡¯s right hand¡ªher drawing hand¡ªkept moving on the sand. The left, rather strangely, was held in a tight fist as it stayed by her side. She didn¡¯t look up as she gave her answer, prompt and unadorned, ¡°Anita.¡± ¡°Anita. That¡¯s a pretty name. And is that you in that picture?¡± Serac had asked without pointing, but the girl seemed to know what she meant. She nodded. ¡°Can I ask who those are beside you? The ones holding your hands?¡± Still, Anita refused to look up. She kept drawing in silence for some time¡ªnow working on a mural that appeared to depict animal figures¡ªbefore letting out a barely audible murmur. ¡°My mama and papa.¡± Serac felt her own chest tighten another notch. With apologies to Anita, however, she pressed on, sensing she was nearing a breakthrough. ¡°Did you¡­ used to live with your mama and papa? Before you ended up here, I mean?¡± The girl nodded. ¡°And¡­ the other kids here. Did they have mamas and papas too? Did you all live as one big family¡ªlike how it is in your drawing?¡± By then, a sizable crowd had gathered around Wayfarer and child. The other children stood in a perimeter around Anita¡¯s epic, with conscious effort not to step on any part of the drawing. They also took care not to disturb the master at work, opting instead to stare at her interviewer in restless silence. Eventually, Anita nodded her confirmation to Serac¡¯s question, with eyes still focused on her task. ¡°Do you miss them?¡± Silence. Busy hand. ¡°Your mama and papa, I mean. Do you want to see them?¡± Anita¡¯s drawing hand slowed a touch. After a beat, she nodded. ¡°I¡­¡± Serac hesitated, taking a Ksana to wonder if she was even worthy of what she was about to say. It was a silly thought, of course. She believed whole-heartedly in what she wanted to say, and for now, that had to be enough. ¡°I¡¯m going to bring you to them. All of you¡±¡ªshe looked around at the rest of the children¡ª¡°back to your parents. So you can be one big family again. Where are they now, Anita? Your mama and papa. So I¡¯ll know where to look.¡± Anita¡¯s hand stopped completely. The silence that followed¡ªmade total by the absence of scratching sand¡ªfilled Serac¡¯s ever-tightening chest with a sense of terrible foreboding. ¡°There.¡± Anita finally did look up. Not back at Serac, nor towards an imagined home in the distance, but towards the apex of the cavernous dome. And what her tiny, sand-covered finger pointed to were the bone-colored statues that made up [the Sanctuary]¡¯s Huskbound walls. The realization hit Serac like a speeding castle. For a moment, she swayed in place, as if she¡¯d been Poise-broken anew. Now, she finally understood the full meaning of the word ¡®Huskbound¡¯. Understood why she¡¯d thought of these Rakshasa statues as ¡®pilgrims¡¯ the first time she laid eyes upon them. And the irony of it all burned her insides, hotter than hot coal. How many mamas and papas had made this pilgrimage with the last of their [Ossified] breaths? Only for [the Sanctuary] to become a physical barrier to pen in the Bone Lord¡¯s playthings? And how many more had erected a [Sentinel] in response¡ªone whose one and only ¡®intention¡¯ had been to set the children free? Serac swayed in place, racked by guilt and battered by fresh self-doubt. The children¡¯s suffering had been more terrible¡ªand the Bone Lord¡¯s ¡®shroud¡¯ more far-reaching¡ªthan she could¡¯ve imagined. And to think that, only moments ago, she¡¯d believed herself fully capable of putting wrongs to rights¡­ Yet, when next Serac recovered her Poise, she did so with the help of an entirely different emotion. An emotion that was comforting in its familiarity and provocative with its heat. Anger. Anger like never before. Anger, the likes of which could stoke anew a Penitent soul¡¯s flames of rebellion and then some. She¡¯d already had every reason to defy the Bone Lord¡ªNaraka¡¯s Realm Immortal¡ªbefore her innocuous conversation with a local artist. Now, she could add a new item to the list. A burning desire¡ªno, need¡ªto drag this cruel tyrant off his ill-begotten throne. As Serac stood, intent on making good on that list, the artist in question stirred. Anita too got to her feet, barely reaching the Wayfarer¡¯s thighs as she did. The tiny creature, for the first time, made eye contact with Serac, before unclenching her left hand to reveal what she¡¯d been holding onto all this time. ¡°I found this after they left,¡± Anita explained simply, ever a girl of few words. It took Serac another moment to comprehend that the ¡®they¡¯ referred to the Bone Maidens. Something Sundara or Meetra had dropped in the heat of battle? If so, which one? Did it really matter? Serac bent down and inspected the object in Anita¡¯s hand. She saw right away that it was another piece of ¡®art¡¯, though one with considerably superior craftsmanship than a child¡¯s sand drawings. It was a¡ªwhat was the word?¡ªcameo of sorts, one shaped and carved from a bloodstone gem. Its cracked surface depicted two Rakshasa faces: a young man and a woman, both smiling brightly. And from its back dangled the two ends of a severed chain. 46. Intervention 46. Intervention [Designation: HIS SISTER¡¯S KEEPER] [Realm of Origin: NARAKA] [Trinket Description: When the whole world turns to dust, all we¡¯ll have left are memories of each other. While the trinket is equipped, the wearer is protected by brotherly compassion, thereby significantly reducing [Ossify] build-up rate and lighting the way through shrouds of bone dust.] *** With a large swath of the Badlands cleared of dust-storm, the Wayfarers decided to give vehicular transport another try. This time, they put in the additional effort to assist their living castle with its navigational duty. Presently, Serac served as Ash¡¯s ¡®eyes¡¯, having climbed atop the battlement to get a 360-degree view of the road. As excited as she¡¯d been about playing ¡®navigator¡¯, she did (reluctantly) suggest to Zacko that the two of them could take turns. Yet, despite her generosity, her companion claimed that he was perfectly happy to be the permanent ¡®driver¡¯¡ªand therefore holed up inside the cabin for the whole ride. Your loss, Manusya man. Serac smiled to herself as she took in the sights, sounds, and smells of Naraka in its rawest and most open form. Red sky dotted with dark clouds that were more smog than nimbus. The gnashing of castle teeth against rocky, uneven terrain. And a faint yet ever-present musk of inflamed flesh¡ªas if the very earth was an open sore that could never quite finish healing. On second thought, perhaps Zacko had the right idea about staying inside the cabin. But no, Serac wouldn¡¯t let a little Naraka ugliness deter her enjoyment of finally holding Ashvanaga¡¯s ¡®reins¡¯. Literally. For in her hands was a set of ropes that had been fed through to the cabin below. The right-sided rope connected to a rusted bell donated by the [Sanctuary] children, while the left tugged on a pair of Huskbound plates that produced a dull thunk whenever they came together. The concept was simple and, oddly enough, inspired by a torture device from Serac¡¯s Damnatorium days. The Clockwork was a devilish contraption that forced a Penitent to participate in her own torture. Ropes were tied to both of her ears, to be pulled by a Jailer to indicate the direction where the inmate had to turn the spoke on a gear. The gear, of course, was connected to more instruments of pain and suffering: clockwise to tighten the barbed collar around the inmate¡¯s neck, or counterclockwise to raise the needles at her feet. Relieve one source of pain, only to intensify another. Serac¡¯s version was a much kinder and more practical mechanism, meant only to indicate the direction of travel. If the bell rang, the driver would turn the steering wheel clockwise. If the plates thunked, then counterclockwise. Sounding them together stood for stop or start. They¡¯d even devised a system to express ¡®degrees¡¯, based on repetitions of the same signal. Thus, the steering wheel was finally allowed to serve a practical purpose. Not a mechanical one, of course, as it remained utterly disconnected from the castle¡¯s inner workings. But it did effectively translate Serac¡¯s intent into something Ash could respond to with some measure of accuracy and consistency. Through this multi-faceted teamwork, the Wayfarers and their Infernal Steed made short work of the Badlands, twisting and turning past numerous pitfalls with visually guided precision. They were also blessed by a relative paucity of Aberrant interference, encountering only a few groups of Flesh-fiends along the way. Whenever these critters did show up, Serac made sure to sound both the bell and the plates three times in quick succession¡ªthe signal for Zacko to drag his lazy ass outside and chuck a few [Javelins]. Because the man could certainly use the Karma, if not the exercise. By the time the red of day deepened into the maroon of night, the pair had covered a fair distance. They¡¯d long left [the Sanctuary]¡¯s dome behind, while ahead, they could now spy a pale-gray haze that could only signify the edge of Dashi¡¯s dust-storm. Even farther beyond that, the stiletto-like peaks of the Bonespires loomed above the haze¡ªa clear and ominous marker of the Wayfarers¡¯ ultimate destination. This was where they decided to camp for the night. For as meticulous as Pathsight might be, there were certain ¡®parameters¡¯ it couldn¡¯t faithfully reflect¡ªparameters such as ¡®fatigue¡¯, ¡®cabin fever¡¯, and ¡®not wanting to stare at the same scenery for like 24 hours straight¡¯. Two brief debates ensued: one about the possibility of a Bhoota ambush, and another about the merits of dropping a Waystation here in the middle of nowhere. On the first count, they decided on shifts so one could relax while the other kept watch. On the second, they agreed to hold off for now, wary as they were about the potential challenges that awaited closer to the storm. Zacko volunteered to take first watch, repaying Serac¡¯s earlier ¡®generosity¡¯. The latter gladly settled herself under a patchwork blanket made from cut-up (and washed!) Penitent¡¯s rags¡ªanother gift from the good people of First Hope. As soon as she did, however, the heavy thoughts she¡¯d shoved aside during the daytime resurfaced, instantly knocking off any hope for sleep. She ruminated alone for some time, before poking first her horns then her whole face out of the blanket. Their ¡®camp¡¯ consisted of a full-sized Ash acting as a physical barrier and [His Sister¡¯s Keeper]¡ªthe ¡®Trinket¡¯ one of the Bone Maidens had apparently dropped¡ªproviding a source of light and magical protection. As night fell, the bloodstone cameo gave off a stronger ¡®glow¡¯. Even now, the back of Zacko¡¯s muscular frame was cast in this faint, pale-blue light, which wasn¡¯t unlike the color of Dashi¡¯s lantern. ¡°Do you think we did the right thing?¡± Serac spoke at Zacko¡¯s back. The Manusya didn¡¯t move, sitting cross-legged while gazing into the night. ¡°About?¡± he asked, even though they both knew.Stolen novel; please report. ¡°About leaving the children in [the Sanctuary]?¡± Serac clarified, even though they both knew. ¡°There was¡­ no other choice, right?¡± ¡°What else could we have done?¡± Zacko said, as much to himself as to Serac. ¡°Ferry them to First Hope? Only a temporary solution, and one that would¡¯ve put the Hopers in danger. Try to find their homes in the Reticence Fields? We¡¯d be going there blind, not to mention we don¡¯t even know if such ¡®homes¡¯ still exist. No, the best thing was to leave them there where they¡¯re safe from the Aberrants and from any more storms that might kick up. Now, we just have to hurry and deal with this Bone Lord asshole, before¡­¡± Zacko trailed off, but Serac could¡¯ve easily finished his sentence. Before another innocent soul is sacrificed to the Bone Lord¡¯s ¡®greater plan¡¯. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± Serac agreed, as much for her own benefit as Zacko¡¯s. ¡°But¡­ listen, I¡¯ve been thinking. I obviously want to smite this Bone Lord as much as the next Wayfarer, but I think¡­ rushing to him is the wrong way to go about it.¡± At this, Zacko looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Well, partly because we kind of suck¡­ as demonstrated by the Maiden pair that just kicked our asses,¡± Serac told it like it was. ¡°But also because of that thing Trippy said about the Karmic Benchmark. You know, about how we need to¡ª¡± ¡°Reach a certain Karmic Level to be eligible for ascension. Yeah, yeah. You don¡¯t need to remind me. I already knew this stuff from Manesfera.¡± Serac pursed her lips. Frustration was brewing in the Wayfarer camp, and both were dealing with it in their own ways¡ªSerac by putting it out in the open, and Zacko by hiding behind his tough-guy exterior. It was back when they¡¯d been waiting for their first Hanuman fight that Trippy had briefed the Wayfarers on the concept of the Karmic Benchmark. Every transition from one Realm to the next served as a ¡®gate¡¯, one that required two separate ¡®keys¡¯ to unlock: 1) a Mandate from the reigning Realm Immortal, either granted or taken by force, and 2) achieving a Karmic Level that was considered commensurate with the challenges on offer in each Realm. For the jump from Naraka to Pretjord, that benchmark had been set at KL-30. No one could tell Serac how Pathsight had decided on that number, but it was not for a Wayfarer to question the Path¡ªonly to follow it. The benchmark went up by a rather arbitrary-sounding 30 levels with each subsequent ascension, up to the requirement of KL-150 to go from Suradao to Devalem. Which¡­ also meant that Zacarias Borges-Juventus, as a Wayfarer who¡¯d started his journey in Manesfera, would¡¯ve needed a whopping KL-120 if he¡¯d hoped to ascend via the ¡®normal¡¯ route. It was, perhaps, a blessing in disguise that he¡¯d knocked himself all the way down to Naraka, where he¡¯d be allowed to trace a ¡®smoother¡¯ progression curve. Yet, all that would be moot if he kept digging himself deeper into debt. Even more so, if he weren¡¯t willing to set aside his pride and face his ¡®leveler¡¯s block¡¯ head-on. Before he could even think about reaching KL-30, he first needed to get over this hump between KL-16 and KL-17. ¡°This is an intervention,¡± Serac eventually announced, sitting up from her blanket. ¡°I care about you, both as a friend and as a Wayfaring partner, and I hate to see you blustering your way through this thing like you don¡¯t have a real problem. What you need is a concrete plan to rehabilitate your Karma. You keep giving me advice about how to ¡®farm¡¯ and level, but whenever we try to talk about you, you clam up. It¡¯s almost like¡­ you¡¯re afraid. That¡¯s it. You¡¯re afraid of leveling¡ªor, at the very least, you¡¯re afraid of where that leveling might take you.¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± Zacko blustered, eyebrows more elevated and contorted than ever. ¡°Me? Afraid? Please, when have I ever been afraid of anything?¡± ¡°When we fought those Bhootas, for a start.¡± ¡°Okay, I walked right into that one. But a man¡¯s allowed a phobia or two, isn¡¯t he? So I don¡¯t play well with ghosts. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not eager to farm a Maiden or a Lord¡ªand maybe even save a whole sorry-ass Realm while I¡¯m at it.¡± ¡°So we beat the Maidens, we beat the Bone Lord, and maybe we even save all of Naraka while we¡¯re at it. What then? How many thousands of negative Karma are you willing to go to? And will you finally start leveling like a proper Wayfarer then? After you¡¯ve already rid the Realm of its Immortal tyrant and who knows what other challenges besides?¡± Zacko turned away. When he spoke again, his voice had flattened as much as his eyebrows. ¡°Don¡¯t count your Karma before you smite, Serac. Didn¡¯t anyone ever teach you that? All I know is I¡¯m willing to do whatever it takes to rid this Realm of the Bone Lord¡ªto set Dashi free. What happens after that, well¡­ I haven¡¯t thought that far ahead.¡± Serac let out a sigh she¡¯d been holding in ever since she¡¯d met this frustrating specimen of a man. ¡°The Bhootas aren¡¯t the only kind of ghosts you¡¯re afraid of, are they?¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°What did you see in the Hanging Fruit, Zacko? What is this object of your greatest desire that you left behind in Manesfera? That you¡¯re so desperate to return to, yet so afraid of at the same time?¡± Silence. Sullen and not at all companionable. ¡°Was it wine? Women? A woman?¡± ¡°Careful,¡± Zacko warned in a low growl. Serac ignored the warning. ¡°Whatever it is, man, I need you to deal with it and get your act together. I¡¯m telling you right now. If we smite the Bone Lord and you¡¯re still stuck on KL-16 then, I¡¯m not waiting for you just so we could ascend together. It¡¯s been nice partnering with you and all, and gods know you¡¯ve pulled me through some tight spots. But the moment you start holding me back, I¡¯ll have no choice but to¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine by me, sweetcheeks,¡± Zacko cut in, lips curled in a sardonic smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s what this ¡®partnership¡¯ was from the start. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, but if my arms aren¡¯t long enough to reach it, then what good am I to you? Spoken like a true Wayfarer, Serac Edin. I see that robot voice of yours taught you well.¡± ¡°I¡ª¡± Serac began, then realized she didn¡¯t know how to finish her own sentence. Her heart pounded hard and fast, for reasons that weren¡¯t entirely clear. In the end, she let out another bracing sigh before adding, ¡°All I¡¯m saying is please remember what you yourself said to me, back when we first shook on our partnership. Because I still remember. The only way I can get back what I lost is by becoming more powerful than the assholes who took it from me in the first place. Whatever¡ªor whoever¡ªis waiting for you in Manesfera¡­ I think you owe it to them to stick to your chosen Path.¡± Serac dropped to the ground and buried herself inside her blanket. Her heart kept its unnatural pace, and her skin felt uncomfortably warm and itchy. She didn¡¯t think she¡¯d said anything uncalled for, and yet, she regretted staging this ¡®intervention¡¯ at all. Several more seconds passed in silence, one in which Serac¡¯s pulse refused to settle and sleep continued to be a non-starter. Then, there was a sigh from the other side of her blanket, even louder and heavier than hers. ¡°You just try and get some shuteye, Serac,¡± Zacko said, his voice having shed all its thorns. ¡°Let me worry about me. I know it. I know I have some¡­ soul-searching to do.¡± She tried to follow his advice, but to no avail. After some time, she lowered the blanket to steal another peek. Zacko had his back turned to her again, but he was no longer gazing into the night. Instead, his eyes were pointed downwards, at an object that dangled from his waist. It was a Buddha mask, with its immutable laughter etched and shadowed by the pale-blue light of a bloodstone cameo. 47. An Agricultural Approach 47. An Agricultural Approach By the time the Wayfarers came to the foot of the mountains, the storm had crescendoed to the absolute height of its fury. Churning currents of [Ossify] particles flew at Serac hard and fast, forcing her off Ash¡¯s battlement and into the safety of its cabin. Soon, however, she was forced to dismiss Ash altogether, back into its adorable portable form. Visibility out of the slit was next to zero, and the living castle couldn¡¯t navigate the mountains¡¯ steepening slopes by its blind lonesome. Before progressing further on foot, the Wayfarers took a moment to go over the basics of Narakite mountaineering. ¡°Only one of us at a time can wear [His Sister¡¯s Keeper],¡± Zacko began by pointing out the obvious, ¡°which means we¡¯ll have to swap back and forth. From what I understand, it doesn¡¯t negate [Ossify] build-up completely, but it should still buy us a lot more time than we¡¯d have without it.¡± ¡°But we still need to know what to do when the gauge does fill up,¡± Serac did her part by poking holes in the plan. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I for one would hate to be stuck on the side of a mountain as a Bone Husk. Even if we eventually, you know, manage to die.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be a slow and painful death, for sure,¡± Zacko said with a sage nod and an amicable smile. ¡°The hope is that we¡¯ll find shelter along the way. Worst comes to worst, we might be able to resummon Ash and hide indoors for a bit. Don¡¯t know many (if any) Wayfarers who could claim a whole building as a Steed, so might as well put its perks to good use.¡± Serac couldn¡¯t rightly argue with that, even though it didn¡¯t feel great to consider Ash as ¡®emergency shelter¡¯. Then again, desperate times called for sensible measures. Up close, the mountains collectively called the ¡®Bonespires¡¯ made no secret of how they got their name. Each of its innumerable peaks pierced the sky as sheer steeples, with just the slightest bends to evoke the curvature of rib bones. The surfaces were buried by thick accretions of bone dust, yet there were enough fissures and fractures in places to reveal the onyx base underneath. The collection of ¡®spires¡¯ also acted as a kind of natural barrier. Their nearly vertical gradient brooked no realistic attempt at scaling the mountain faces¡ªat least not without some specialized equipment. Luckily, the saddles where these natural palisades met also formed its own separate slope, one that was just barely gentle enough for a Rakshasa and a Manusya to feel and clamber their way up. Before doing just that, however¡­ ¡°Oh! I nearly forgot!¡± Serac sat down at the start of this false hill and meditated. A lotus flower bloomed, providing a pure-white ¡®brazier¡¯ to light the dust-laden fog. Pathsight then named this new Waystation, sensibly enough, as: [Foot of the Bonespires] The Wayfarers, newly reconstituted, began their ascent in earnest. With Zacko wearing [His Sister¡¯s Keeper] around his neck, Serac was fully exposed to the elements. The [Ossify] gauge wasted no time to show up, along with an additional stack to her [Tribulation] bonus. The pair hurried along the slopes¡ªor tried to, anyway. As if the terrain wasn¡¯t challenging enough, the buffeting winds and pelting dust only added to the degree of difficulty. It was clear from the outset that this climb would test the Wayfarers¡¯ physical attributes as much as their Pathsighted ones. Serac was the first to lose her ¡®stamina¡¯¡ªthe kind that couldn¡¯t be represented by a green bar. Out of breath and lacking in strength, her steps slowed, causing her to nearly lose sight of Zacko, who continued ahead of her at a much brisker pace. ¡°Wait!¡± she gasped, her voice muffled by her scarf. ¡°Time out! Can we stop for a sec?¡± ¡°What, already?¡± Zacko called back, incredulous. ¡°We can¡¯t just stop here. There¡¯s nothing to shield us from the dust-storm.¡± ¡°I just¡­ I just need a breather,¡± Serac moaned, even as she did her utmost to avoid breathing in the surrounding air. ¡°What happened to that ¡®Rakshasa toughness¡¯ you keep trumpeting?¡± Zacko made his annoyance plain, then spun in place, appearing to scan the slopes ahead. He pointed and said, ¡°There! You see it? Let¡¯s try to make it there at least, then we can see about giving you that breather.¡± Serac narrowed her eyes and just barely made out what Zacko pointed to. A halo of blue light was just visible amidst the overwhelming fog of Bone¡ªalmost like a lamppost lit with the same magic as Dashi¡¯s lantern. ¡°I see it,¡± Serac reported dubiously, ¡°but¡­ what even is that? How do we know it¡¯s something to go to rather than avoid?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Not like there¡¯s anything else to aim for,¡± Zacko gave the verbal version of a shrug. ¡°Gotta be better than just charging on blind.¡± Serac could argue with that one, but chose not to. She was more enticed by the promise of a rest stop, which the mysterious blue light seemed as likely to provide as anything else in the vicinity. So, she forced her chuffing lungs to work overtime, following Zacko as he charged on ahead. Up close, the mystery object was revealed to be an¡­ actual lamppost! Or close enough for Serac to call it such. It was an offshoot from the nearest spire. A thin strip of the compacted bone dust had ¡®peeled off¡¯ to form a hook-like projection, from the end of which hung a lantern that was just like the one in Dashi¡¯s possession. This lantern cast its immediate surroundings in its pale-blue glow: an area more than large enough for two Wayfarers to squeeze in and dust themselves off. Literally. For the light was as conveniently magical as its appearance suggested. Serac¡¯s [Ossify] bar went away almost as soon as she walked up to the lamppost, which allowed her to sigh in relief and see about that much-needed breather. She panted and wheezed like a sick dog, hands on knees. Zacko, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t a hair out of sorts. He took his ¡®breather¡¯ by staring up and inspecting the lantern that hung above their head. ¡°Why?¡± he asked softly, as if to himself. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m trying my best, alright?¡± Serac snapped, though she was more annoyed at herself. ¡°No, I mean why is this here? This lamp.¡± ¡°Oh, that.¡± Serac craned her neck, squinting, as she was directly underneath the lamp¡¯s blue glare. ¡°I dunno, maybe the Bone Lord put it here to help us.¡± Zacko gave her a look. ¡°You¡¯re not serious, are you? Why would he do that?¡± She shrugged. ¡°You heard the Maidens. We know that the Bone Lord wanted to work with us¡ªat least until we tried to put a stop to his child sacrifice. Maybe he still does¡­ and this is his way of seeing if we¡¯d be up for it.¡± ¡°I agree with you, Wayfarer¡ªat least partially,¡± Trippy cut in then, ever quick to give his two ? whenever the topic of the Realm Immortal came up. ¡°I do believe this is the Bone Lord¡¯s doing, but not necessarily with you specifically in mind. My theory is that this lamppost, as well as this mountain ¡®path¡¯ as a whole, are meant for all Wayfarers who dare approach the Realm Immortal¡ªperhaps as a means to test their worthiness to receive a Mandate.¡± ¡°See? Trippy agrees with me,¡± Serac informed Zacko (rather unhelpfully at that), then added after a moment¡¯s consideration, ¡°but I don¡¯t agree with Trippy¡ªat least not fully. I do think this is the Bone Lord¡¯s twisted way of helping and testing Wayfarers, but I don¡¯t think he really cares about this ¡®Mandate¡¯ at all. I think all he cares about is that ¡®greater plan¡¯ the Maidens kept harping on about. Whatever that might be.¡± Serac waited for her Special Guidance Protocol to put up another argument. Trippy didn¡¯t say anything, even though Serac could sense a sort of unease that pushed against the edges of their shared consciousness. It was an almost physical sensation¡ªone that manifested as a slight prick of pain just above her right ear. ¡°Okay,¡± Zacko piped up again. If he was annoyed at all about being left out of a conversation that took place within arm¡¯s reach of him, he didn¡¯t show it. ¡°Let¡¯s just assume you¡¯re both right¡ªpartially or fully, I don¡¯t care. That means we should find more of these lamps along our route. Probably spaced in such a way that it¡¯s possible for us to go from one lamp to another within the time it would take for [Ossify] to build up.¡± ¡°I¡¯d guess so,¡± Serac mused, frowning slightly, ¡°but that can¡¯t be all there is to it. Gotta be something here to make our lives diff¡ªshh, did you hear that?¡± Serac perked up her pointed ears, trying to make out a noise that had hid itself amidst the raging dust-storm. A noise that was ethereal yet strangely rhythmic¡ªand familiar. Chuh chuh chuh¡­ Bhootas! Those transparent winged monkeys who couldn¡¯t seem to help but give away their own positions, in one way or another. That certainly qualified as ¡®something to make the Wayfarers¡¯ lives difficult¡¯. A challenge Serac herself had no qualms facing, but¡ª She glanced at the Manusya beside her. Predictably enough, Zacko had gone stock-still, face rigid and visibly pale even in the dim lighting. Serac suppressed a sigh as she looked out into the fog and listened. The Bhootas continued to laugh, and she confirmed that there were at least a handful of them circling just beyond the lamplight¡¯s pale-blue borders. They circled but kept their distance, evidently reluctant to come anywhere near the light. That gave Serac an idea. ¡°You know,¡± she turned to her companion again, ¡°that Trinket around your neck. The fog is thick enough here that the gemstone should give off a bit of that same blue light. Obviously not as strong as this lamp, but it might be enough to ward off the Bhootas. Do you¡­ want to make a run for it? Until we get to the next lamp?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Alright, sure. I¡¯ll try to stick close, so maybe I¡¯ll also be protected by the¡ªwait, what did you say?¡± ¡°I said no,¡± Zacko croaked in a trembling voice, even as a bit of color returned to his stricken face. He then added, somewhat more steadily, ¡°We can take them. Why let a perfectly good source of Karma go to waste?¡± Serac gaped, starting to smile even in her disbelief. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure,¡± Zacko snapped, no doubt more annoyed at himself. ¡°I¡¯ve done a bit of soul-searching. And I figured¡­ if I¡¯m serious about getting over this ¡®leveler¡¯s block¡¯ of mine, then I can¡¯t be afraid of a little farming, can I?¡± Serac¡¯s hint of a smile widened into a full-on grin. ¡°No argument there, chief.¡± ¡°It¡¯s settled then,¡± Zacko said, then put on VISAGE, [Dreamer] side up. He then added in a perfectly steady voice¡ªone that was muffled by the face of a laughing Buddha, ¡°Had enough of a breather, princess? If you¡¯re ready, let¡¯s go farm us some ghosts.¡± 48. The Lamplit Graveyard 48. The Lamplit Graveyard This being their second encounter with Narakite ghosts, both Wayfarers had come up with their own method of making the fight go smoother. By now, Serac considered herself an expert at interpreting and reacting to the Bhootas¡¯ auditory cues. This rendition of the Chuh-Chah-Cheh-Chih-Choh gang telegraphed their approach with as much gusto as the first, which meant the Rakshasa could ready her response without fail. [85!] in damage (slightly reduced due to her higher Infernal mitigation), followed by [Blood for Blood] to mark the ghost¡¯s movements. On this occasion, that was all she needed or wanted to do, for there was someone else who could use the smiting blow bonus more than her. With the [Bleeding] Bhoota now leaving a trail of blood, Zacko too could see the invisible. He followed it with the practiced efficiency of a trained killer, heading it off even as it tried to veer away from the blue glow of [His Sister¡¯s Keeper]. Then, for just one second and not a second longer, the NINEFOLD master channeled the magic of his Erudite Instrument. [Dreamer Aspect: THE EIGHTH DAO¡ªSPEAR OF COMMITMENT] For one second, a [Dreamer]¡¯s purple aura overrode the blue, imbuing Zacko¡¯s spearing kick with Erudite energy. The Bhoota couldn¡¯t escape the attack¡¯s dynamic range, nor could its incorporeal form negate the magical damage. It showed itself in its startled, winged-monkey form, before mixing with the fog as newly ground-up Souldust. Serac confirmed the smite via her own Pathsight: [160 ?] to indicate her share of the Karmic reward. Zacko would¡¯ve received the other 240 ?; subtract the 100 ? he would¡¯ve spent to channel [Dreamer], and he still managed to come out on top. Chuh down, Chah-Cheh-Chih-Choh to go. The Wayfaring tag team farmed them with ease, settling naturally into their newfound roles. Serac to ¡®mark¡¯ the ghosts, and Zacko to hunt them down. Chah-Cheh-Chih went down in short order to the same strategy. At this point, Serac was forced to switch things up, having run out of MP with which to cast more [Blood for Blood]. Here, with apologies to Zacko, she chose the path of least resistance. Choh choh CHOH! In its lonely desperation, Mr Choh charged at Serac front on. This only played into the Rakshasa¡¯s hand, as she was able to ¡®block¡¯ the tackle with PULVERIZER. [31!]. She spun at the same time, tracing the Bhoota¡¯s motion with REVOLVER before firing an Infernal-tinged bullet at point blank range. [142!]. The damage was more than enough to one-shot the ghost, thereby earning Serac the full [400 ?] for a solo smite. Five Bhootas, done and dusted in less than a minute of frenetic yet precisely measured actions. High from their victory, the Wayfarers looked for each other straight away, both smiling ear to ear. At the sight of a happy Zacko¡ªhe who¡¯d overcome his phobia of both ghosts and leveling¡ªSerac was gripped by the urge to do something she¡¯d never done before. She raised a hand, palm out and high in the air. She then held the pose for a Ksana longer, somehow certain that there would be more where that came from. Sure enough, the Manusya responded by slapping her hand with his own. The contact was solid and crisp, giving off a satisfying smack that echoed across the Bonespire valley. ¡°Wow!¡± Serac exclaimed. ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°That, my friend,¡± Zacko said, beaming, ¡°was a high five. A well-earned one at that.¡± ¡°Well, we need to do it more often, because that felt really good.¡± Zacko chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m sure we will. But first, let¡¯s decide how we wanna tackle the rest of this climb. We could keep going like this, and manage our resources accordingly, or¡­?¡± Serac knew right away what her partner had in mind. And she was already in full agreement, even before the suggestion had been made. ¡°Let¡¯s take¡­ a more agricultural approach,¡± she said. ¡°Old man Ravi told me during one of his stories: slow and steady wins the race. I have a feeling there¡¯s a lot more farming we can do here, as long as we¡¯re willing to be patient and methodical.¡± It was decided. Instead of continuing up the mountain path, the pair made a quick descent, back toward the Waystation called [Foot of the Bonespires]. Here, they reconstituted, refilling their various resources. Zacko had barely broken a sweat, but Serac could certainly use the break. She¡¯d been by far the busier of the two, having spent HP, MP, and a good chunk of Cartridge. Afterwards, the Wayfarers fell into a repeatable pattern. They¡¯d make their way up the mountain, using the pale-blue lampposts as ready-made landmarks. The first trip would take them to the second lamp, then the second trip to the third, and so on and so forth. Between new landmarks, they¡¯d go back to the Waystation to top themselves up before heading off again. With each lengthening leg of the journey, they also looked for more Bhootas to fight. The Aberrant apparitions, for their part, had spread themselves all around the valley, just waiting to be farmed by a pair of enterprising Wayfarers¡ªor so it seemed to an increasingly curious Serac. Yet, for now, she set aside her curiosities to instead revel in simple, honest work. She and Zacko were ridding Naraka of some pesky ghosts and being paid in cold, hard Karma. The gains were tangible, both in level and skill. Serac felt herself growing into her own as a Wayfarer, just as her attributes and parameters continued to rise.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. For all its rewards, the work was also a real slog. It took a toll on Serac both physically and mentally, not only for its strenuous demands on her [Substance 7] body but also for its monotonous tedium. No matter how many lampposts they passed and how many ghosts they banished to the Insterstitium, the scenery around them barely changed. Steep slopes and rocky spires, all amidst a dense, endless dust-storm. It was enough to make a girl wonder if this was the only life she¡¯d known and ever would know¡ªif she¡¯d been born in the dust and would die in the dust. Yet, as all Paths must lead to a destination, so too did a mountain eventually lead to its peak. The Wayfarers saw the end of their climb from a mile away. Almost literally. It presented itself as a veritable constellation of blue lights, so bright as to cut through the fog. Indeed, as they reached the source of these lights, so too did the fog dissipate in its entirety. It was like walking into another Realm. A large open space had been set aside from the rest of the mountain, contained within its own rarefied air. Said area was demarcated by at least a dozen blue lamps that hung from the encircling spires, with their lights combining to form one continuous sphere of clarity and protection. The first thing that drew Serac¡¯s eyes¡ªand how could it not?¡ªwas an enormous lotus flower that sat at the sphere¡¯s dead center. A Hubstation¡ªlike the one at Last Sorrow/First Hope. As welcome a sight as the Hubstation was for a pair of farming-weary Wayfarers, Serac had to wonder about the implications of its being here at all. How had Trippy put it? This particular installation would¡¯ve taken root from the cumulative imprints of an untold number of Wayfarers who¡¯d passed through here over the ages. So¡­ an untold number of Wayfarers had passed through this portion of the Bonespires. What came of them? Was the natural thing to wonder. Did they find what they were looking for, here upon the highest point in all of Naraka? Did they find a way to ascend even further and continue their journey? Yet, as Serac scanned the entirety of the lamplit sphere, she found clues to suggest otherwise. Skeletal remains¡ªsome onyx in color and others pale-gray like the Bone Lord¡¯s dust¡ªlay strewn about the whole place. Some were dismembered, others fully intact. Some were heaped atop each other in a mass grave, others lying still in solitary repose. What they all had in common, however, was that they were all dead. A lamplit graveyard. A permanent and physical monument to all the souls that passed through then died before reaching their destination. Even a hell bumpkin like Serac didn¡¯t need to be told how rare and strange a sight this was. In a world where all souls turned to Dust upon death, this blatant defiance of the rules of the afterlife was a testament to the powerful magic that permeated the Bone Lord¡¯s shroud¡ªor perhaps to the strength and resilience of the souls that had perished at his doorsteps. The sight of it was eerie and more than a little disturbing. It was also undeniably beautiful, cast as it was in the ghostly blue of the lamplight. Serac felt herself break out in goosebumps, even as she stood at the graveyard¡¯s periphery, hesitant to take another step. Beside her, the same lack of courage was apparent in Zacko¡¯s demeanor. The earlier pallor had returned to his already sallow face, as he eyed the skeletons warily, as if expecting them to jump up at any moment. Eventually, Serac was jolted out of her cowardly reveries. The source of this interruption wasn¡¯t entirely unexpected, but the manner of it certainly was. For it was Trippy that had drawn her attention¡ªwith an audible tsk of annoyance. ¡°I suggest, Wayfarer, that you proceed and engage the Hubstation at the earliest opportunity,¡± he said, sounding polite enough. ¡°We¡¯ve already lost much time to your repeated loops upon the valley. However, this location should serve nicely as your next base of operations.¡± ¡°Right. Of course.¡± Even as Serac moved to ¡®obey¡¯ her Special Guidance Protocol, she frowned at his unusually assertive mannerism. She was reminded, at least in passing, of the way Version 1 used to rush and berate her¡ªbefore the two of them agreed upon a more civil and productive way to collaborate. Serac sat down next to the giant lotus, with her eyes still darting about nervously. Even though she¡¯d become old hat at meditation, on this occasion, it took her an extra second or two to get into the right mindset. Once she did, Pathsight informed her of the designation for this new ¡®base of operations¡¯¡ªa rather cryptic and ominous one at that: [Ossuary Entrance] Entrance? Is there a building here? Serac broke her concentration and peered around the lotus petals. This time, she noticed that the skeletons were especially numerous and densely packed on the far side of the Hubstation. There were so many of them, in fact, that they piled up to form a kind of standing structure. A¡ª ¡°That¡¯s a door,¡± Zacko observed, eyes pointed to the same object. ¡°A skeleton door, if I¡¯ve ever seen one. I wonder if it requires a skeleton key to open it.¡± The Manusya said this last part in a jokey tone, but Serac didn¡¯t quite see what was funny. Instead, she was entranced by the bizarre appearance of this Huskbound door, one that had been framed and decorated with the very bones that littered the graveyard. The only comparison she had was the ¡®rib cage¡¯ that used to be her cell in the Damnatorium¡­ but this door certainly looked a lot sturdier and lot more forbidding. Forbidding¡­ but also inviting. As if it was calling out to a pair of ambitious Wayfarers. Here be your next destination¡ªbut only if you dare. The surrounding graveyard served as a permanent and physical reminder of all the souls that had dared and failed. What did they lack that Serac must possess if she had any hope of going further? Only one way to find out¡­ Her anxious reveries were broken again, this time by a cheerful whoop from her Manusya companion. ¡°I did it, Serac!¡± Zacko announced, eyes shining with genuine delight. The man was usually so careful about maintaining his too-cool-for-school veneer that Serac hadn¡¯t known he was even capable of such unfiltered joy. In any case, his joy was infectious. ¡°What? What did you do?¡± she asked, herself drawn into a wide smile. ¡°I got over the hump!¡± Serac scanned her companion with Pathsight. Sure enough: [Designation: ZACARIAS BORGES-JUVENTUS] [Wayfarer Race: MANUSYA] [Karmic Level: 17] [Liminal Karma: 105 ?] ¡°Oh my gods! You did it! You cleared your debt!¡± The two of them jumped to their feet at the same time and met for another high five¡ªeven louder and crisper than the last. Then they joined hands and did a little dance, laughing and skipping around the Hubstation like a couple of drunk idiots. Somewhere amidst the outsized merriment, Serac heard another distinct tsk, but she didn¡¯t let that dampen her mood. KL-16 to 17 might have been small potatoes for most any Wayfarer, but for a certain NINEFOLD master and his prison-break accomplice, it was cause to celebrate, and celebrate they did. In fact, they were so caught up in the moment that neither noticed when the skeleton nearest them twitched and shuddered to life. 49. Hell Breaks Loose 49. Hell Breaks Loose When the skeletons rose, they did so in silence. And in unison. The graveyard turned, within the blink of an eye, into a battlefield¡ªa second chance at victory for the warrior souls that had perished at the [Ossuary Entrance]. ¡° Serac wasn¡¯t so quick to follow suit. She saw the veritable army of skeletons that now surrounded her¡­ and her mind went blank. She couldn¡¯t comprehend any of it¡ªonly experience it and accept it as her new reality. The first things to process were the changes to Pathsight. Upwards of a hundred new elements now flooded the overlay, as every one of the skeletons received its own HP bar, along with a label to reveal their designation: [The Accursed]. Thus, as the army moved, so too did the associated texts and bars, giving Serac a bad case of sensory overload. Yet, the feature that most demanded a Wayfarer¡¯s attention (and alarm) was the magic that clearly infused these skeletons. Every single one of them now held a weapon in their bony hands. Swords, spears, and shields that smoldered and glowed with a black aura¡ªmemories of war reforged in the flames of hell. The same black fire burned within the warriors¡¯ orbital sockets. Serac knew this because she¡¯d just locked ¡®eyes¡¯ with one of them. And the moment she did, she felt also the collective gaze of an entire army. Their eyes burned with black fire. They burned with anguish and hatred for all who yet drew breath. [Wayfarer Status Effect: FEAR] [TRIBULATION active (x2): current buff at 10%] Fear? Now, that was a new one. But Serac couldn¡¯t deny it. She was scared out of her mind, and not only because a hundred skeleton warriors now glared at her with murderous intent. There was something else at work here¡ªan ancient magic that had seeped through the barriers that separated one lifetime from another, one Kalpa from the next. The army moved in unison, closing in on a pair of living souls¡ªliving, and therefore capable of fear. Long-forgotten memories drove this tsunami of malicious intent, and it was all a fearful Rakshasa could do not to get swallowed up. Serac was so scared she couldn¡¯t even voice the curse that rose to her throat. Instead, she staggered away from the spearman¡¯s attack, before emptying the rest of REVOLVER¡¯s cylinder in one go. She needed to cycle back and reload. Cycle back and reload so she could¡ª Except she couldn¡¯t. She¡¯d squeezed the trigger on a full cylinder, aimed at the same spearman. In her mind, she thought she¡¯d activated [Chamber One: BLOOD FOR BLOOD]. Yet, no such message came through from Pathsight. And REVOLVER itself remained inert, ignoring a Wayfarer¡¯s desperate call for its magic. ¡°It¡¯s no use, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy explained in a tone that clearly lacked an understanding of the urgency at hand. ¡°The status effect [Fear] renders you incapable of accessing Mana. Any action that requires MP expenditure is disabled.¡± ¡°What?¡± Serac finally found her voice, though quite a bit shriller than usual. ¡°Then how am I supposed to fight these things?¡± No answer. She hadn¡¯t meant for the question to be rhetorical, but perhaps it was too much to expect Trippy to conjure up a solution where there was none. ¡° A solution did materialize, but from Zacko, who¡¯d already masked his own [Fear] with VISAGE. ¡° ¡°Karma, not Mana. Of course, I¡¯m locked out of using any of my NINEFOLD techniques, but I can still do enough to fend these guys off.¡± ¡° ¡°isn¡¯t a skeleton army bearing down on us! Now, if you want to help, go and secure us an escape route, and hurry!¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Escape route? Back down the mountain where we¡¯d come? But then, the skeleton army would still be here waiting¡ª ¡°Might I suggest the door, Wayfarer? This place is, after all, called the [Entrance].¡± The door¡­ of course! Trippy¡¯s advice contained more snark than urgency, but Serac would take it. The skeleton door stood on the far side of the Hubstation, where the army and its soldiers were thickest. Seeing this, Serac froze for a moment, held by a ¡®fear¡¯ that was different still from a status effect. This type of fear, however, she could fight down with sheer force of will. And she forged on ahead, knowing Zacko depended on her to do her job. But it wouldn¡¯t budge! Serac merely bounced against the densely intercalated rib cage, and quite painfully at that. Panicking, she grabbed a bone that stuck out from the frame (almost like a handle) and pulled. ¡° Had Zacko¡¯s earlier ¡®joke¡¯ been more accurate than he¡¯d intended? Did the skeletal [Entrance] to the Ossuary require a special procedure to unlock? Had all the ambitious souls who¡¯d knocked on the Bone Lord¡¯s front door perished here¡­ simply because they didn¡¯t have the key? But Serac had no time to ponder the question, let alone to search for such an item. The army she¡¯d just run past was upon her again, with her none the wiser about how to fight back. Black blades and fiery spearpoints. Hollow eye sockets that burned with the flames of hell and hatred. Serac cowered anew under [the Accursed]¡¯s spell¡ªcowered and sought desperately for a Mana-free solution. There was nothing for it. If she couldn¡¯t fight back, all she could do was hole up and buy time. She unclipped mini-Ash from her belt and summoned its full, physical form. A living castle¡ªstripped down as it was¡ªstill took up an entire corner of the graveyard with its heft and size. Its ¡®reconstitution¡¯ produced a gust of wind that pushed back the skeleton army, giving Serac the time and space she needed to drag herself up to Ash¡¯s ramparts. But it was only a momentary reprieve. The soldiers recovered their ¡®poise¡¯ quickly enough, now turning their hellish gazes up towards the Rakshasa and her lonely battlement. What can I do? Serac¡¯s mind raced for an answer that continued to elude her. [Javelins] maybe? They do Infernal damage, right? But there¡¯s no way I have enough [Javelins] for the number of skeleton soldiers there are¡­ Suddenly and without warning, something like an answer did come to her. Not from her own frantic mind. Not even from Trippy¡¯s unseemly monotone. But whispered to her in the foreign tongue of a third entity. Memories. The most ancient magic of them all. One that needed no Mana to ¡®cast¡¯. For as Serac stood atop a castle to look down upon an advancing army, she remembered her own war from a previous life. At least a part of that recollection felt almost academic in nature. Something she¡¯d read before, perhaps in a book, or perhaps in an item description. Yet, an undeniably large part of it came instead from lived experience¡ªmemories of kingship recalled across the expanse of lifetimes and Kalpas. Serac¡ªor the other that had possessed her¡ªpointed her weapon straight into the sky and fired. REVOLVER¡¯s deafening report¡ªamplified tenfold, hundredfold and more¡ªresounded through the graveyard and the stormy valley beyond. All souls within earshot, living or dead, stopped what they were doing to listen to their king. ¡°Warriors, one and all!¡± Not-All-Serac¡¯s voice boomed, louder even than her gun. ¡°Champions of Chaos, mercenaries of Blood, and rebels without a cause! I know well the discontent that brews in your hollow chests¡ªthe defeat you¡¯ve waited lifetimes to avenge. For the same fire burns in me still, never to be quenched but by the lifeblood of our enemies.¡± A part of Serac¡ªthe same part that spoke these words¡ªexperienced the speech as, well, herself. Atop Ash¡¯s battlement and looking down upon a graveyard full of still, attentive figures. Including that of Zacko¡¯s, who¡¯d dropped his fists and now stared up at her, open-mouthed. Yet, another undeniable part of her was one of the masses on ground level. An out-of-body experience. She saw and heard herself from outside herself, hanging onto a revenant king¡¯s every booming word. ¡°I come to you now to renew my vows. A promise, not only to you, but to myself and my own irrepressible ambitions. Promise of freedom¡ªand the violence with which to win it! I only ask for patience. For faith. I ask that you stay your blades and keep them sharp.¡± Here, Not-All-Serac paused for effect. It only felt appropriate, and both parts of her agreed. In response, the whole graveyard buzzed with an electric silence. ¡°For I promise you now that a day will come when those blades will find the vengeance you so desperately seek. Wait for me, my friends. Wait for my signal to rise again and fight. And I¡¯ll tell you one more thing. When that day comes, cast your gaze away from the depths of hell and, instead, look to the heavens. For that is where you¡¯ll find me, your King!¡± Serac fired another round into the air for good measure. Then her skeleton army responded in kind. The sound of rattling bones filled the air as a hundred arms raised their black-flamed weapons in salute. Burning eyes turned in unison towards the heavens, as if they saw their King there, reflected upon a fog of dust. And this time, the sight of a hellrisen horde so united filled a Rakshasa¡¯s heart, not with [Fear], but with bloodthirst of her own. What did a King have to fear? When she had armies to command and enemies to smite, up and down the slopes of Mount Meru? [TRIBULATION active: current buff at 5%] ¡°Ow!¡± Serac Edin¡ªall of her¡ªfell to her knees, as the base of her right horn erupted with an all-too-familiar pain. Yet, unlike the headache once caused by her Penitent¡¯s Circlet, this pain was more localized, specifically as a discrete band that stretched from ear to horn. And, unlike the last time something like this had happened, she could no longer pretend that she¡¯d imagined it. The pain¡ªfamiliar, intense, overpowering¡ªwas real, and all the more terrifying because of it. 50. The Ossuary 50. The Ossuary The army fell into line, as disciplined and organized as could be expected of a group of skeleton soldiers. They stood in neat rows and columns, heads bowed (at least those who had heads to speak of) and weapons lowered by their sides. By all appearances, they¡¯d formed up with Ash as the focal point, as if this living castle was the banner around which the army rallied. And perhaps, Serac mused, that wasn¡¯t far off the truth. The moment had passed her by¡ªjust as it had back when she first ¡®tamed¡¯ Ashvanaga¡ªbut she could still recall a distinct connection between herself, her castle, and her soldiers. Whoever she¡¯d been in a previous life, it was someone who could quell and rouse an army of bloodthirsty rebels. Right now, that army stood around her castle in silent vigil, waiting to rise again at her wish and command. Yes. Whoever Serac Edin had been in a previous life, that entity was making itself known to her¡ªpiece by piece and recollection by recollection. For proof, she needed look no further than the metallic band that had now embedded itself along the ridge from her right ear to the base of her right horn. Presently, Serac palpated this subcutaneous band, distracted by its presence and its implications. The pain had been but a brief flash, and the object now blended seamlessly into a Rakshasa¡¯s anatomy, as though it¡¯d always been a part of it. And perhaps, Serac could only resign herself to the thought, that wasn¡¯t far off the truth. ¡°What are you waiting for, Wayfarer?¡± Trippy¡¯s voice came as a rude awakening, one that jolted Serac with its serenity¡ªcold, like metal against skin. ¡°The Aberrants have been ¡®dealt with¡¯. The path has opened to you. You¡¯re free to proceed.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Serac murmured her assent, though without much conviction. She then descended from Ash¡¯s battlement, still in something of a daze. She felt as though her conscious being wasn¡¯t fully in tune with her own physical existence¡ªa continuation of that out-of-body experience from earlier. It was Serac Edin¡¯s feet that touched the ground and it was her eyes that scanned the skeleton army in trepidation before turning to the [Ossuary]¡¯s open door. And yet¡­ did her body act by her will? How much of this was herself and how much of it was this ¡®King¡¯ that occasionally showed up, took the wheel, then refused to elaborate before leaving again? ¡­ And how much of it still was the cool, polite voice in her head? Before she could make much headway into her existential crisis, however, Zacko came back into the frame, eyeing the skeletons sidelong as he passed through the gaps between the columns. ¡°Uh, you okay there, princess?¡± he said uncertainly as he joined Serac at the door. ¡°Or¡­ should I be calling you king instead?¡± ¡°Neither,¡± Serac snapped, a tad more testily than she¡¯d intended. ¡°And before you ask, no, I don¡¯t know who that¡¯s meant to be, and no, I don¡¯t know how to call them back at will. Not that I particularly want to.¡± Zacko nodded, rather sincerely by his standards. ¡°It¡¯s the same, uh, soul that showed up to talk down Ash, isn¡¯t it? Whoever they are, they seem pretty useful for that sort of thing. Master of a mobile fortress, and now apparently the commander of a whole army.¡± ¡°Whoever they are, they¡¯re also very rude,¡± Serac pouted, oddly loath to give the revenant king the credit they might be due. ¡°Easy for you to be blas¨¦ about it, when it¡¯s not happening to your body. Moving forward, I¡¯d much rather find solutions that don¡¯t involve me being taken over by a complete stranger.¡± ¡°Well, who knows? If it happens often enough, you might not think of them as a¡ª¡± Zacko stopped himself when he saw the look on Serac¡¯s face. He then put on a placatory smile before patting her on the back. ¡°Don¡¯t stress too much, alright? The afterlife works in mysterious ways. We just gotta roll with the punches as they come¡ªespecially if they¡¯re helpful to us. Shall we?¡± Zacko was already halfway through the open door as he said this, but Serac stopped him with a tug on the arm. ¡°Wait a minute. What do we do about Ash?¡± ¡°What do you mean? Couldn¡¯t you dismiss it like you normally do? I¡¯d assume we can¡¯t ride a Steed into this [Ossuary].¡± ¡°Do you think that¡¯s wise, though? See the way the skeletons are all lined up around Ash? What if they, you know, go crazy again as soon as Ash is out of the picture?¡± Zacko took a moment and tried to see what Serac saw. His expression remained dubious as he shrugged and said, ¡°If you¡¯re so worried, why not just park it here?¡± ¡°Park?¡± Serac frowned. ¡°I feel like you¡¯re not using that word correctly.¡± ¡°Just you wait, Serac, I¡¯ll make a Manesferan out of you yet. I mean to say you could just leave Ash here while we go do our thing in the [Ossuary]. Don¡¯t see any signs or meters here, so I think you¡¯re in the clear, as far as traffic laws are concerned.¡± As ludicrous as Zacko¡¯s words were, the ideas contained within them made some semblance of sense. Serac doubled back to Ash and put a hand on its stone wall. ¡°Be a good castle and wait for us here, okay? We¡¯ll be back in a jiffy (and hopefully not more than once). You can look after yourself while we¡¯re gone, can¡¯t you?¡± Crreeeaaaakkkkk¡­ An enthusiastic and reassuring yes. Serac gave Ash one more loving pat, then hastened to join Zacko inside the [Ossuary]. As it turned out, inside the [Ossuary] featured an eclectic mix of surprising sights and (by now) totally expected oddities.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. First, the entrance doubled as a narrow staircase that led up, rising beyond the peak of the Bonespires. Both the walls and floors were of Huskbound construction (as expected), and the passage itself was sparsely lit by more blue lanterns. Welcoming and forbidding. It was on theme for what was clearly the Bone Lord¡¯s lair. The stairs then led onto a large foyer of sorts. Here, the lanterns hung from the high ceilings as pale-blue chandeliers, giving the place an almost festive atmosphere¡ªif said festival was attended only by silent Bone statues and a pair of armed and wary Wayfarers. From what Serac could see, not a single soul¡ªAberrant or otherwise¡ªhad waited to receive her and Zacko. No red carpet; only Bone. Bone everywhere, from the floor to the walls to the balustrades that lined a pair of spiral staircases and the mezzanine they led to. ¡°Bone Lord wants us to find our own way,¡± Zacko observed wryly, then he and Serac set about searching for said ¡®way¡¯. They first went up more stairs. Up again, and therefore seemingly the right direction. The back of the mezzanine ended in another skeleton door, even larger than the [Entrance] from the graveyard. But this one too wouldn¡¯t budge without a ¡®key¡¯. Serac had the inkling that the same trick wouldn¡¯t work twice, even if she were able to summon her kingly side at will. Next, they checked the ground floor, noting three more (and smaller) skeleton doors. One clearly led to an eastern ¡®wing¡¯, another to its western counterpart, and a third that sat directly in the middle, just behind the spiral staircases. Only this middle door ¡®opened¡¯, and at a slight touch of its bony handle at that. The thing took its time creaking and rumbling, while two Wayfarers peered anxiously into the passage beyond. As far as Serac could tell from the boundary, the hallway looked to be more of the same: Huskbound walls and Rakshasa statues that lined them. The only difference seemed to be the lighting, which was to say there was none. The only source of dim, blue light here spilled in from either end of the hallway¡ªsome from the foyer, and the rest from whatever waited on the other side. It looked safe enough to enter, but by now, Serac knew better than to trust appearances. She glanced at Zacko to gauge the Manusya¡¯s reaction. ¡°Not like we¡¯ve got any other choice, is it?¡± he said with another shrug. ¡°Four doors, three of them locked. If your theory about the Bone Lord ¡®testing¡¯ us is correct, then I can guess at the intent behind this structure.¡± ¡°Guess there¡¯s only one way to find out,¡± Serac matched Zacko¡¯s shrug but not quite his apparent confidence. She took the first step forward, somehow feeling like it was her duty to lead the way. Yet, how much of that was herself, and how much of it was her stranger? With every uneventful step, however, Serac¡¯s pretense of bravado gradually solidified into reality. The Wayfarers first snuck, then strode through the darkened hallway, quickening their pace as their caution receded. At some point, the task felt routine enough to allow for more small talk. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering,¡± Zacko began, ¡°if you managed to score any additional Karma?¡± ¡°Hm?¡± Serac murmured distractedly, still a little more anxious than her partner. ¡°Karma for what?¡± ¡°You know, for putting down a whole skeleton uprising. Seems like a pretty big achievement. And a ¡®virtuous¡¯ one at that. Didn¡¯t Pathsight reward you for it?¡± At this, Serac stopped for a second and pulled up her own status. [Designation: SERAC EDIN] [Wayfarer Race: RAKSHASA] [Karmic Level: 24] [Liminal Karma: 3,845 ?] ¡°Nothing,¡± she reported. ¡°Guess it¡¯s not as big a deal as you think. Either that, or Pathsight just can¡¯t be bothered to calculate anything that doesn¡¯t involve a smiting.¡± ¡°See, I¡¯ve always wondered about that,¡± Zacko pounced on the topic with unusual eagerness. ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s so weird? I mean, I get rewarding us for smiting Aberrants, and I guess Secondary Transfer is a rather thoughtful touch, but why don¡¯t we get Karma for, you know, doing good things and being good people?¡± Serac snorted. ¡°Are you trying to suggest you¡¯re ¡®good people¡¯, Zacko?¡± ¡°Well, maybe not me specifically,¡± the man admitted easily, ¡°but what about you?¡± Serac stopped again, this time to blink at Zacko. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t try to deny it, princess. It¡¯s in your nature to help others, even when it¡¯s not clear that you¡¯ll get anything in return. You helped me before you knew me as anything more than a fleshy blob. You helped the Hopers¡ªbuilt a bridge for them even at the cost of stripping down your own castle. And now you¡¯re here trying to rescue Dashi from the Bone Lord¡¯s clutches.¡± ¡°You¡¯re here for Dashi, too.¡± ¡°Sure, but I probably wouldn¡¯t be, if you hadn¡¯t stopped for the children in the first place. My point is, your whole¡±¡ªZacko gestured vaguely in Serac¡¯s face as he searched for the right words¡ª¡°style is counterproductive to Wayfaring, at least in the way Karma is distributed and earned. But I¡¯m also saying that feels wrong, you know? If the aim is to reincarnate in higher, more virtuous Realms, then why is it that Pathsight only encourages us to smite and hoard? Shouldn¡¯t we all aspire to be, I dunno, more like Serac Edin?¡± The Rakshasa was left speechless again, as she struggled to square Zacko¡¯s appraisal of her with her own knowledge of herself. Was she ¡®good people¡¯? As a Penitent lifer, she¡¯d never thought of her own existence in terms of ¡®good¡¯ or ¡®bad¡¯. The more important thing for her¡ªindeed, the only important thing¡ªwas to be free. And that hadn¡¯t changed this far into her journey as a freesoul, had it? Even after she¡¯d been roped into helping others along the way? Even if¡­ she wasn¡¯t always herself while¡ª ¡°The discussion is an interesting but ultimately pointless one, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy cut in then. Polite and cold. ¡°Karma is Karma, no matter how it¡¯s distributed or earned. Every step of your journey thus far¡ªthough there have been bumps on the road¡ªhas taken you through a Path of consistent progression. Do not lose sight of that now. Especially when there are yet sources of Karma lurking in every corner¡­¡± Right on cue, the hallway came to life. Where the graveyard had played host to a skeleton war, the [Ossuary] was home of the Huskbound. Even now, two of the statues that lined either side of the hallway stepped forward and turned to face the Wayfarers. A pair of Bone-cast Rakshasas¡ªnot unlike Hanuman in its man-sized form. Then, as the Wayfarers watched, both statues raised a hand at the same time and¡­ shoved them into their own chests. The hands shot out again in short order, leaving behind fist-sized holes. Each of the statues held out heart-shaped pieces of themselves, raising them into the air as if to allow the Wayfarers to get a good look. But not for long, before they both crushed the pieces into dust. The bone dust immediately spread itself into a cloud that filled the hallway. Serac felt its familiar effects even before Pathsight informed her of it: [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [TRIBULATION active (x2): current buff at 10%] This was the same ¡®spell¡¯ the Bone Maidens had used, except the statues¡¯ source of Bone had been themselves. As if to acknowledge their commitment, Pathsight graced both of them with an HP bar of their own, along with the brand-new label: [Pishacha Footman]. 51. The Bone Lords Minions 51. The Bone Lord''s Minions Serac¡¯s initial impression was that the Pishacha Footmen were simply the scaled down versions of Hanuman. They certainly looked a lot like the erstwhile Sentinel, except they came with the reassuring sight of an HP bar. Well, that¡¯s something. HP I can work with. Serac raised REVOLVER to do just that, intent on testing an unimbued bullet against a new enemy¡¯s Physical mitigation. She aimed, she locked, but before she could fire, the Pishachas fired first. Or rather, they punched. Their fists shot out black balls of energy that flew towards each of the Wayfarers at speed¡ªfaster than Serac could react to them. [122!] The Rakshasa reeled, clutching at her chest and trying to get back the wind that had been knocked out of her. The impact felt, well, much like a heavy punch, transmitted through space as Infernal energy. It flew fast and hit hard¡ªand it also reminded Serac of another attack she¡¯d witnessed (suffered) quite recently. Beside her, Zacko had fared better, having parried the second flying punch with a NINEFOLD [Shield]. The man was, not for nothing, a master pugilist with sharp reflexes and well-trained agility. He put both to the test now as he swiftly transitioned into [Lance]¡ªa spearing kick to close the distance. Not to be outdone, Serac readjusted her aim and fired, hoping to land her attack alongside Zacko¡¯s. It landed alright¡­ but not on the intended target. For the Pishachas had summoned onyx-colored bricks from thin air, blocking both Zacko¡¯s kick and Serac¡¯s bullet. The bricks disintegrated into bone dust upon contact, but they¡¯d done their jobs. The Pishachas, HP bars still full and untouched, launched another set of flying fists. Zacko dodged one from point blank range, while Serac protected her midsection with PULVERIZER, taking [44!] more damage as she did. Now, that feeling of d¨¦j¨¤ vu solidified into certainty. These so-called Pishachas did take after a ¡®boss¡¯ the Wayfarers had recently fought, but not Hanuman. No, these Footmen shared their brand of magic with the Bone Maidens¡ªMeetra and Sundara. Flying fists in place of blades. Brittle cinderblocks in place of a full shield. The effects were a little less impressive than the Maidens¡¯ version, but the principle remained the same. Ranged attacks coupled with responsive defense. Theirs was the kind of sensibly well-rounded skillset that was rare to see in most other parts of hell. It displayed and required a certain level of logic, discipline, and organization. Maybe not unlike something one would expect to see in an army. As much as Serac wondered at the implications, she also relished the challenge. For she saw it as an opportunity¡ªfor her and Zacko to practice and ¡®skill up¡¯ before the inevitable rematch against the Bone Maidens themselves. Very kind of you, Bone Lord, to deploy your minions as part of an extended tutorial. And for act one of this extended tutorial, Challenger Serac¡­ turned tail and ran. Just as she¡¯d hoped, Zacko stayed put, keeping himself within melee range of his Pishacha. And just as she¡¯d expected, the other Pishacha peeled off to give chase, thereby turning a 2v2 into two separate 1v1s. Whatever the Bone Lord¡¯s intentions might be, there was a method to his madness¡ªconscious design behind his minion ¡®placement¡¯. So too was there method to Serac¡¯s cowardice; she¡¯d run, not to avoid fighting the Pishacha, but to give herself the chance to do it properly. Because, as one disembodied voice had once said to her: what kills you can only make you stronger, as long as you take the right lessons from it. She was here, not just to smite an Aberrant, but also to pick up knowledge she could then apply to the bigger, more important fight. This first sequence of Serac running and the Pishacha giving chase had already taught her something¡ªa confirmation of what she¡¯d suspected since her last outing against the Maidens. Namely, there was a limited range to this brand of magic, and the Pishacha clearly didn¡¯t want her to push it. It¡¯s got to be this [Ossify] cloud. This is the origin of their power¡ªthe ¡®resource¡¯ they spend to activate their shields and energy balls. She supposed she could altogether extricate herself from the cloud if she ran fast enough. But not only would that eat up more Stamina than she could afford, it also wouldn¡¯t let her bypass the Pishacha¡¯s defense. No, the more obvious solution was to disrupt the [Ossify] cloud from within. On this count, she already had a bit of prior experience to draw from. During her first fight against Bhootas, out in the stormy Badlands, she¡¯d acted on blind faith to do just that. She could try the same trick again, this time knowing it would work. First, though, she had to cycle. Three unimbued bullets remained in the cylinder. All three she fired off in rapid succession, but slightly offsetting her aim with each squeeze of the trigger. In a way, it was another experiment to learn more about the Pishacha¡¯s (and therefore the Maidens¡¯) bone dust magic. Every one of her attacks were rebuffed in sequence by three separate bricks¡ªone brick for each bullet. Serac then reloaded, all the while keeping her eyes peeled for a fist flying her way.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The fist did come¡ªeventually¡ªbut not until Serac had already slid a sixth and final cartridge into the cylinder. She was ready for the punch, rolled sideways to avoid the ball of energy, then stayed on one knee as she aimed, locked, and¡ª [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [192!] REVOLVER¡¯s own Infernal flames shot out as a tremendous burst, feeding upon the bone dust as if it was kindling. Back during the Bhoota fight, [Catharsis] had helped to smoke the ghosts out of hiding. Here, too, it burned away a large swath of the [Ossify] cloud, thereby clearing a path for a gunslinger to sling her gun, unimpeded. The path was clear, but the window was brief. Serac started firing before she even had visuals on her target, and didn¡¯t stop until both her cylinder and her Stamina bar were empty. [124!], [124!], [124!], [124!], [298!] That last jump in damage came as a surprise, but Serac immediately understood why. And because she understood that her opponent was Poise-broken, she eschewed any thought of reloading and, instead, sprinted forward with PULVERIZER raised. As the smoke cleared, however, she saw that there was no need. For the Pishacha Footman was no more, having gone straight past Poise-break and into Souldust territory. At the same time, the [Ossify] cloud (along with its build-up gauge) cleared, leaving the same dimly-lit hallway as before the fight had begun. [TRIBULATION active: current buff at 5%] [1,200 ?] 1,200! That was a much bigger Karma haul than Serac might¡¯ve hoped for. On reflection, however, it felt fairly proportionate to the risks involved and the resources spent. All told, she¡¯d sacrificed a third of her HP, a quarter of her MP, and nearly two full cylinders of Cartridge to earn the smite. The Pishacha had been dangerous and beefy enough to be something of a ¡®mini-boss¡¯ on its own. Lifting her gaze, Serac saw right away that Zacko too had won his 1v1. The Manusya stood alone, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, looking for all the world like he¡¯d been ¡®resting¡¯ for some time. He gave her a look with one eyebrow raised, as if to say, what took you so long? But Serac had Wayfared with Zacko long enough to notice the faint flush of his otherwise sallow cheeks and the slight unevenness of his breaths. Even such subtle signs of exertion were unusual for the NINEFOLD master, which meant the Pishacha must¡¯ve demanded greater effort than the average ¡®mob¡¯. Serac smirked inwardly, but kept those thoughts to herself. ¡°How¡¯d you handle yours?¡± was the first thing she asked. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you went into more debt again.¡± ¡°What do you take me for?¡± Zacko answered with mock outrage. ¡°I handled it just fine with my Auxiliary, thanks very much. Pretty simple in the end, really. Keep up the pressure and punish those short windows where they¡¯d inevitably have to recover their own Stamina.¡± Serac nodded, remembering the ¡®lag¡¯ in between the Pishacha¡¯s actions that had given her the time to reload. She also reassured herself with the knowledge that Zacko had approached his 1v1 with the same analytical intent¡ªusing it to plan for a bigger, more important fight. ¡°Shall we get a move on?¡± Zacko asked as he straightened himself. ¡°Just a wild guess, but I think these guys were meant to stop us from getting to the other end of this hallway.¡± Serac agreed with that assessment, but only partially. In her mind, ¡®stop¡¯ wasn¡¯t the operative word. Slow us down, more like. ¡°Wait,¡± she said, stealing a glance at her own HP bar. ¡°Can we just chill here a bit? I want to heal up, in case there are more of the Bone Lord¡¯s minions waiting for us.¡± Zacko frowned at this, but only briefly before he nodded his understanding. ¡°Ah. Your Trinket. Handy one, that.¡± Indeed it was. Even now, the missing third of Serac¡¯s health bar ticked back up, hair by hair, as Froggy¡¯s [Lesser Regen] worked its humble magic: [1], [1], [1], ¡­ ¡°Yup. Saves me from having to ¡®manage¡¯ my HP on top of everything else. Did you want a turn after I¡¯m done with it?¡± ¡°No need,¡± Zacko replied quickly, making no secret of his arrogance. ¡°Didn¡¯t take a single hit during that fight. That¡¯s the benefit of, you know, being awesome at what I do.¡± ¡°Pfft,¡± Serac made no secret of her disdain. ¡°More like the downside of your paltry HP! What, did you put all 16 of your attribute points into [Substance] or something? So much for prioritizing needs over wants!¡± ¡°Guilty as charged,¡± the Manusya admitted with a self-satisfied grin. ¡°No one could ever accuse me of practicing what I preach. As long as I draw breath, I¡¯m committed to stunting on fools above all else¡ªeven if it means I¡¯m constantly in danger of being one-shot.¡± After that, while Serac¡¯s HP slowly recovered, she and Zacko committed to shooting the shit. Their shared mood was a jubilant one, a far cry from the powder keg from this time yesterday. As a Manesferan might say, winning cured all ills. When at last they set off again towards the end of the hallway, they did so with confidence tempered by sensible caution. They both felt ready for whatever ¡®source of Karma¡¯ might lurk around the next corner, and indeed welcomed the potential challenge and learning opportunity. As it turned out, their caution was for naught, at least for the time being. The path eventually led into a small, vacant room, one not much wider than the hallway. It was, however, much brighter, thanks to another blue lantern that hung from the conical ceiling. Serac¡¯s gaze immediately fell upon an object in the center of the room, positioned such that the lantern above acted almost like a spotlight. If the Bone Lord had placed it here, he couldn¡¯t have done more to draw the visitors¡¯ attention. It was a partial skeleton that sat atop a raised platform. Partial, because it consisted only of a pale-gray skull (smooth; no horns), a neck, and a rib cage that extended from the thoracic vertebrae. Only¡­ strictly speaking, it wasn¡¯t really a ¡®cage¡¯, given that each of the ribs bent the wrong way: splayed out in a grotesque facsimile of a blooming flower. Upon the center of this ¡®flower¡¯, where a pistil might¡¯ve been, instead grew one slender piece of bone that didn¡¯t belong in anyone¡¯s anatomy, Rakshasa or otherwise. Serac tilted her head and stared, trying to make sense of the mystery object, while Zacko beside her let out a low whistle. ¡°Well, would you look at that?¡± he said, amusement tempered by sensible caution. ¡°A bona fide skeleton key for a skeleton door¡­¡± 52. The Illusion of Constraint 52. The Illusion of Constraint In theory, the Wayfarers had no reason to hesitate. There were locked doors that needed unlocking, and here was an object that ostensibly served just such a function. In reality, however, the whole situation had ¡®TRAP¡¯ written all over it in big bold letters. The key in question looked macabre enough on its own, slender yet lumpy, like a bunch of phalanges welded together. It was contained inside the splayed-out rib cage, the bizarre anatomy of which both invited and forbade, keeping in theme with the rest of the Ossuary. But perhaps most suspicious of all was simply the key¡¯s placement¡ªpresented to the travelers at the end of a difficult fight, as if to shout: go ahead, here¡¯s your reward! Serac liked to think of herself as a lot braver than when she¡¯d first set forth on her journey. Even so, the pragmatist in her still raised objections from time to time, like it did now in response to the clear danger signs. ¡°I mean,¡± Zacko was the first to break the uneasy silence, ¡°I get how this looks, but again¡­ do we really have a choice?¡± At this, Serac puffed out her chest in indignation, for her partner had hit upon the exact thing that bothered her most about the scenario. ¡°See, this is why I¡¯ve hated almost everything to do with Mr Bone Lord,¡± she groused. ¡°Everywhere we turn to, there¡¯s illusion of choice. Did we fight Hanuman because we wanted to help the children, or did we do it for Dashi¡¯s lantern (which we didn¡¯t even end up getting, by the way!)? Are we going after the Bone Lord to save Dashi, or is it simply that there¡¯s nowhere else for us to go but up? And if we grab this key right now, are we taking a calculated risk, or are we simply doing what the Bone Lord wants us to do?¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡± Zacko looked somewhat amused by the sudden rant. ¡°Why can¡¯t it be both? On all counts?¡± Serac snorted incredulously. She should¡¯ve known better than to expect a Manusya to share her sentiments. Must be nice, living among family and friends instead of Jailers and torture devices. In a big bustling metropolis instead of the wastelands of hell. Zacko¡¯s been spoiled for choice all his life, and that¡¯s why he can¡¯t understand how precious it is to have it at all. Of course, if Serac had spoken these thoughts aloud, the Manusya might¡¯ve had the chance to offer up some counterpoints. On this occasion, only the voice in her head answered back. ¡°I understand your frustrations, Wayfarer, but I don¡¯t believe the situation is as dire as you make it out to be,¡± Trippy said in his friendly monotone. ¡°The absence of choice in one juncture does not negate the choice you did make in another. There¡¯s been numerous points on your journey where you could¡¯ve failed to overcome the challenges or simply given up. The fact that you¡¯re here at all is a choice and an achievement unto itself. And if this skeleton key does present its own set of challenges, how you overcome them will, again, be up to you. Depending on your actions, even this ¡®constraint¡¯ before you could be just another opportunity for you to express yourself.¡± Serac snorted again, though with a little less emphasis. It wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t agree with Trippy or even Zacko on some level, but she still couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that nothing was truly ¡®up to her¡¯. The presence of that ¡®third entity¡¯ had really done a number on her, and until she could puzzle out where she herself fit in this jigsaw of souls, she¡¯d never be sure that her choices were, indeed, hers. Unfortunately for Serac, the afterlife refused to give the game away all at once. She¡¯d have to prise the answers out of its reluctant hands, piece by piece, until she had enough to put together a meaningful picture. And, for now at least, there really was nowhere else for her to go but up. ¡°Made up your mind yet?¡± Zacko pressed, though gently at that. ¡°Are we doing this or what?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Serac said promptly, emphasis all hers. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± ¡°Sounds good to me. Now, the more important question: you or me?¡± She knew what he meant, and she¡¯d already committed to an answer before the question had been asked. Whether her choice or her constraint was the illusion, Serac could at least take ownership of one decision, which was to volunteer to grab the scary skeleton key. Yet, her bravery was tempered by a bit of pragmatism. Not knowing what was going to happen, she decided also to hedge her bets, reaching with her PULVERIZER left hand instead of the REVOLVER right. And good thing too. For as soon as Serac¡¯s onyx claws touched the key, the container around it shut its ¡®lid¡¯. All twelve pairs of the splayed-out bones sprang at once and met in the middle, forming a ¡®rib cage¡¯ as the gods had intended. Their sharpened ends shot at speed into a very-much-suspecting Rakshasa, with some breaking off against PULVERIZER¡¯s rocky surface and others skewering the fleshy parts of Serac¡¯s arm. [71!] Maybe it was because she was ready for it, or maybe she just wanted to look the part while she took ownership of her ¡®choice¡¯. Whatever the case might be, Serac didn¡¯t let out a single sound, instead watching the mutilation of her limb with a calmness that belied her pain.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. But some of her actions were inevitably out of her control. She might¡¯ve managed to steel her nerves, but they were still, well, nerves. As soon as her arm received the bloody hug, muscles downstream acted on reflex, with her hand closing around the skeleton key in a tight fist. She then held this trembling fist for a brief yet painful while. She wasn¡¯t quite ready to try and pull the key loose, not when the rib bones still held her within their clutches. Soon, however, it became clear that no further commitment was required on her part. For the Bone Lord¡¯s trap had already deemed the exchange sufficient to release its reward. [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [Wayfarer Status Effect: LESSER BLEED] [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] The changes described by Pathsight happened all at once. The rib bones dissolved, with their dust then caking onto its new substrate as a tangible layer of solid pale-gray. By now, the phenomenon was unmistakable: one portion of Serac¡ªnamely her left upper limb¡ªhad become Huskbound. As if in confirmation of that fact, the [Ossify] gauge appeared again. Although, in this case, it wasn¡¯t in an active state of ¡®building up¡¯. Instead, about a sixth of the bar had filled up permanently, ticking neither up nor down. The bad news didn¡¯t end there. The bony covering failed to stanch Serac¡¯s fresh wounds, with blood now seeping through and dripping from the minute cracks upon the Huskbound cast. It meant she got to see herself [Lesser Bleeding] for real, on top of the notifications from Pathsight: [1], [1], [1], ¡­ This by itself wasn¡¯t much cause for alarm. Presently, the DoT was canceled out by the [Lesser Regen] from Froggy, which meant Serac wasn¡¯t actually losing any HP. It did mean, however, that she could no longer heal just by standing around and shooting the shit with Zacko. Then came a final surprise, though it also doubled as the ¡®reward¡¯ the Wayfarers had bargained for. It came in the form of another Pathsighted message, one that became more prominent as Serac turned her attention to the ¡®key¡¯ in her hand. [Trinket acquired: THE FIRST PLEDGE] [Realm of Origin: NARAKA] [Trinket Description: Heavy is the head that wears the crown. While the trinket is equipped, the wearer falls under the Bone Lord¡¯s watchful guidance, thereby gaining access to the East Wing of the Ossuary.] It was safe to say that no ¡®acquisition¡¯ had left Serac colder than this latest one. Then, the status changes that followed only added injury to insult. [Burden: 15/31 (Burdened) -> 22/31 (Heavy)] [Poise: 65 -> 50 (Penalty)] [Wayfarer Status Effect: HEAVY] [Wayfarer Status Effect: ENLISTED] [TRIBULATION active (x4): current buff at 20%] Welp. So much for bravery. All that ownership-taking had landed Serac with two new status effects. [Heavy], she readily recalled as one step up from [Burdened], meaning she now had an even bigger penalty to her Stamina expenditure and max Poise. It was also evident from the [Tribulation] stack that this didn¡¯t count as a separate effect on its own. [Enlisted], however, was a little obscure and more than a little upsetting. She didn¡¯t know what it meant exactly, but it clearly flew in the face of her earlier rant about freedom of choice. It also¡ªrather disturbingly¡ªreminded her of the skeleton soldiers that were presumably still formed up outside the Ossuary. ¡°Apologies, Wayfarer. I¡¯m no better-informed about this than you are. Along with [Ossify], this appears to be another status effect novel and unique to the Bone Lord¡¯s influence.¡± Serac sighed but stopped short of raising more complaints. Because taking ownership of her choices also meant shouldering the consequences. At this point, there was nothing for it other than to accept the reward and move on. She tried to do just that, first by loosening her Huskbound fist and freeing up the key that was still held therein. It didn¡¯t work. Or rather, she couldn¡¯t work her hand at all, which was uncomfortably frozen in a tight fist. Then she tried to pull the key loose with her REVOLVER hand, also to no avail. Finally, Zacko gave it a go, and even a NINEFOLD master¡¯s [Substance]-boosted brawn proved no match for a skeleton key¡¯s adherence to its new home. The thing was stuck in there, real good. ¡°Welp,¡± Serac observed with a shrug that belied the frustrations brewing in her heart, ¡°I guess this is one way to wear a Trinket.¡± Now that she was saddled with this new burden, it was time to put it to work. The Wayfarers finally made their way up the hallway, back to the foyer from which they¡¯d first entered. Naturally, the first thing to check was if [the First Pledge] actually did what was purported in its description. In this case, ¡®the East Wing¡¯ had referred to the ground level door on the left side of the entrance, which had since opened to reveal another dimly lit corridor. The next order of business was to see about going back to the Waystation for some resupply. Yet, as the pair headed down the entry staircase, they saw that the Ossuary had reconfigured itself in more ways than one. For the [Entrance] had barred its doors once more, denying the Wayfarer¡¯s exit and their access to the lotus flower outside. The implication was clear for all to see. And, in truth, it made no difference to the reality that Serac had already accepted, along with the consequences of her choices. Namely, there was nowhere else for her to go but up. ¡°I see what this is,¡± Zacko grumbled as the two of them trudged back up the stairs. ¡°Four doors, now with two of them open. We¡¯re gonna have to retrieve two more of those keys to unlock the rest. After that, hopefully, the Bone Lord will finally deign to meet us himself.¡± ¡°No doubt,¡± Serac said, then stole an unhappy glance at her Huskbound arm and the ugly Trinket that poked out from the end, ¡°but if there¡¯s another key waiting for us in the East Wing, can we both agree that it¡¯s your turn to grab it?¡± 53. Rotaries and Projectiles 53. Rotaries and Projectiles The East Wing corridor funneled the Wayfarers into an ¡®upward¡¯ path¡ªin the plainest sense of the word. It was another steep climb, consisting of a lengthy Huskbound staircase with no end in sight. More Bone Husk statues lined either side of the passage, solemn and inert in their prayerful poses. Serac and Zacko had grown wise to the Bone Lord¡¯s tricks, however, and they kept their eyes peeled for signs of movement, expecting any one of the statues to spring up and start (literally) throwing punches. Their single-minded focus on the potential threat of Pishacha Footmen slowed their reaction to the actual danger. It came first as a distant grinding noise (¡°ksshhh, ksshhh!¡±), which quickly grew to a deafening rumble that forced both Wayfarers to look up at the same time. ¡°Watch out!¡± Serac had acted even before Zacko¡¯s warning, jumping out of the way of a large object that rolled down the staircase at speed. In the thick dust cloud that had kicked up, it was difficult to make out what exactly had nearly run her over. But the same object made a return trip soon enough, now rumbling up the stairs to reveal itself. It was a spinning wheel. Taller than a Rakshasa and constructed from¡ªsurprise, surprise¡ªskeleton parts. Its hub was a skull with eyes of black flame. There were spokes of femurs and a rim of melded vertebrae. Unnaturally enlarged and sharpened protrusions from said spines gouged out bony chunks from the ground as the wheel spun¡ªjust as easily as they would cut up Rakshasa flesh. Of course, no Aberrant in the underworld¡ªbipedal, rotary, or otherwise¡ªwould be complete without a Pathsighted label. In this case, the skeleton wheel was identified as: [Chakra]. Whether or not the wheel had a name, it wouldn¡¯t have changed how Serac responded to its charge. She sidestepped the Chakra again as it spun its way back up the stairs, fanning away more dust as she did. She then squinted through the cloud until the wheel left her sight entirely. But the ominous ¡®ksshhh, ksshhh¡¯ continued into the distance. Having already dealt with a living castle and a shapeshifting giant, a murderous skeleton wheel didn¡¯t seem too menacing in comparison. Serac turned to Zacko and said as much. ¡°This isn¡¯t so bad, is it? We just have to expend a little extra energy going up these stairs.¡± Yet, by now, she should¡¯ve known better than to underestimate Naraka¡¯s nasty surprises. For as soon as she voiced her complacency, the situation went from not-so-bad to kind-of-hairy. When the Chakra came back into the frame, it¡¯d been joined by a fellow. Two murderous skeleton wheels now, one for each Wayfarer. The addition didn¡¯t necessarily change what Serac had to do, which was to judge the wheels¡¯ trajectory and keep herself out of harm¡¯s way. It did, however, have two appreciable effects that pushed the situation into ¡®hairy¡¯ territory. First, of course, it narrowed the space where the Wayfarers could maneuver to safety. Second, it kicked up even more dust into the air, which thickened the cloud enough to¡ª ¡°Oh, this is more of that Bone stuff!¡± Zacko yelled out another warning. ¡°Is your [Ossify] building up too?¡± Indeed it was. It made sense for Zacko to have been the first to notice, as he would¡¯ve seen a fresh bar pop into his Pathsight. Serac¡¯s gauge had already been partially filled, and it now resumed its incrementation as she waded up the stairs in the Chakras¡¯ wake. ¡°I don¡¯t think we need to worry too much, do we?¡± she yelled back while keeping her eyes on the skeleton wheels, which even now made crisscross U-turns for the return trip. ¡°Just need to keep dodging these spinny boys and finish our climb before the gauges fill up!¡± As soon as Serac voiced her perfectly reasonable assessment, however, the situation went from kind-of-hairy to yes-we-do-need-to-worry. One of the Chakras spun towards her, with its sharpened spines cutting through its own dust cloud. She sidestepped it again, choosing to squeeze herself into a narrow strip of safety between the wheel and the wall to its side. Then, something hit her in the back. [98!] Serac staggered under the impact, even as she twisted to see who or what had been responsible. Amidst the dust cloud, she caught only the sight of two Chakras taking their mechanical routes back up the staircase. The culprit, whoever it was, had attacked from the unseen distance. Serac then became aware of a strange sensation. She looked down to see that the projectile was still embedded inside of her¡ªa blackened shaft and arrowpoint that poked out from just below her collar bone. The arrow ¡®dissipated¡¯ as soon as she laid eyes on it, solid black fading back into bone dust. ¡°Not good!¡± she yelled again in a strained voice. ¡°It¡¯s not just the [Ossify] we have to worry about¡­ Someone¡¯s shooting arrows at us using the bone dust!¡± She should¡¯ve known better than to underestimate Naraka¡¯s nasty surprises. The Chakras U-turned and roared back down the stairs, now accompanied by a volley of black arrows to add to the sharp objects that could kill a pair of Wayfarers.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Now, the areas of safety had shrank even further. Avoiding direct confrontation was no longer practical, and as such, both Wayfarers switched up their stair-climbing strategy on the fly. This time, Serac dodged the arrows before meeting a spinny boy head on¡ªor rather, with her Huskbound PULVERIZER arm. Rock-on-skeleton violence. KSSHHH¡­!! The high-pitched noise reached its ear-splitting apex as the Chakra¡¯s spinal protrusions ground against Serac¡¯s PULVERIZER shield. Her partial [Ossification] had rendered her arm leaden and unwieldy, but she still retained the mobility of her shoulder joint, enough to keep one layer of protection between herself and a murderous skeleton wheel. Even so, every mitigated hit of the Chakra¡¯s spinning attack counted itself against her HP: [16!], [16!], [16!], ¡­ Spinny boy spun fast! Even with Serac¡¯s shield up, if she stood under the Chakra long enough, she¡¯d eventually be ground to a pulp. Not to mention the arrows from above that continued to be a threat. However she meant to deal with the skeleton wheel, she needed to do it quickly. Three rapid-fire REVOLVER shots, aimed top-down from over her shield. They bounced against the Chakra¡¯s spinning rim with uninspiring clinks. And the accompanying damage numbers proved no more encouraging: [27!], [27!], [27!] -> [81!] No good! The Chakra¡¯s high-speed spin evidently served a defensive purpose as well, and its damage negation far outstripped the 20% AV buff Serac had received from four stacks of [Tribulation]. If she allowed herself to be lured into a mitigation contest here, she¡¯d (probably) win, but she¡¯d also be here all day. Serac¡¯s mind raced faster than a Chakra¡¯s spin, recalling the lessons she¡¯d learned on her Wayfaring journey. One such lesson: if an Aberrant had high defenses, it likely came with a ¡®weak spot¡¯ waiting to be exploited. In the Chakra¡¯s case, it didn¡¯t take a genius to guess where its weak spot might lie. Even as the spin damage ticked ([16!], ¡­), Serac screwed up her courage and committed herself to a new gambit. She put her entire weight behind her Huskbound arm and pushed, thus creating¡ªfor just a fleeting Ksana¡ªseparation between herself and the Chakra. She then kicked at the side of the wheel, as hard as Rakshasa-ly possible. Her [Substance 7] kick was so underpowered it didn¡¯t even register a damage number. But she was far more interested in its physical effect, which was to force the Chakra into a slight movement perpendicular to its rotational axis. It really was just a slight movement, but it was enough to expose the ¡®hub¡¯ of the wheel¡ªthe skull face at the Chakra¡¯s center. Serac then shoved REVOLVER¡¯s barrel into its mouth and fired thrice more. [136!], [136!], [136!] -> [408!] No pesky mitigation there! And the [Tribulation] buff did plenty of work, pushing out nearly 70 extra points of damage. This erased the Chakra¡¯s HP in a single burst, causing its wheel to finally stop spinning, before the whole contraption dissolved into Souldust. [800 ?] That was when another black arrow whizzed right past Serac¡¯s head. A reminder that she couldn¡¯t claim victory just yet. She sprinted up the stairs with impunity, with one eye on her Stamina bar and the other seeking out the shooty boy that surely waited on the other side of the [Ossify] cloud. She found her target easily enough. The top of the staircase finally came into view, revealing along with it another pair of Bone Husk statues, who¡¯d already drawn their next arrows¡ªblack flames of Infernal energy nocked on Huskbound bows. The shooty boys (plural) came with their own designations: [Pishacha Archer]. Serac readied her own projectile weapon in response. She was just about to squeeze the trigger¡­ when she saw something that made her stomach drop. The ceiling above the Pishacha Archers suddenly split open. This trap door then spat out a third Chakra, which bounced on the floor once or twice before starting its spin cycle in earnest. Oh no, Serac muttered inwardly, how am I supposed to deal with Chakra adds on top of the Archers? But that was also when her Wayfaring partner offered up an immediate solution. ¡°Leave the Chakras to me!¡± Zacko shouted from a ways behind her. ¡°You just focus down the Archers, and quickly!¡± Serac nodded without looking back. She trusted Zacko to know what he was doing (and to do it without going into more debt!). Besides which, this latest proposal for a division of labor simply made sense: a NINEFOLD master to go hand-to-wheel against the Chakras, and a gunslinger to test her range and accuracy against the Archers. Final push. Serac began by sidestepping the Chakra, making sure to hold up her Huskbound arm as she did. Her caution and anticipation paid dividends right away, as a dust-sent arrow struck then faded against PULVERIZER¡¯s frame. [35!]. She then ducked under the flight of a second arrow before straightening with REVOLVER already locked onto the right-sided Archer. She was on a full cylinder again, which meant the next bullet sat in¡ª [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [192!] Serac gladly ate the hefty self-damage, knowing she couldn¡¯t afford to conserve her resources in a 1v2 situation. Even as one Archer went up in flames, she¡¯d already switched her aim onto the other, unloading a triple burst of unimbued bullets. [149!], [208!], [1,000!] -> [1,357!] [136!], [136!], [325!] -> [597!] The Archers, for all their long-range capabilities, proved to be squishier than their Footman cousins. Both lost their Poise after just the second tick of damage. Especially for the one that had been hit with [Catharsis], the critical multiplier had produced an ungodly amount of damage that was frankly overkill. Serac scrunched up her face in silent apology as she watched the Archers dissolve into Souldust. [1,000 ?], [1,000 ?] -> [2,000 ?]. She then looked over her shoulder just in time to see Zacko deal a smiting blow to the Chakra add, thereby clearing the staircase of all Aberrant presence. Another victory, another nice influx of Karma, and another obstacle neutralized. The Wayfarers were once more cleared to proceed and claim their next ¡®reward¡¯. Yet, somehow, Serac was unable to celebrate in earnest. Instead, she found herself wrestling with a deep-seated anxiety, one that kept her heartbeat elevated long after the fight was over. The anxiety wasn¡¯t in response to an immediate threat, nor even in anticipation of a remote one. Indeed, she couldn¡¯t identify its source at all. All she felt was a kind of pulsant yearning. She yearned for more¡­ more what? More fighting. More magic. More dust. More opportunities to prove herself worthy of a greater plan she knew not the shape of. 54. Enlistment Blues 54. Enlistment Blues Despite what she¡¯d said earlier, Serac was having second thoughts about letting Zacko receive the next ¡®reward¡¯. The two of them were inside another lantern-lit room with a skeleton bust on display. Sure enough, this one contained another skeleton key, a slender-lumpy abomination that was identical to the one currently stuck inside Serac¡¯s fist. ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± she was just saying now, ¡°maybe it makes more sense for one of us to shoulder all the debuffs, you know?¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t know. Explain.¡± ¡°Like, I already have the one bum arm, right? What¡¯s it to me if I do the same thing to the other?¡± Zacko looked at her like she¡¯d grown a new set of horns. ¡°You¡¯re not making any sense. Don¡¯t you, uh, shoot with the other arm?¡± ¡°Yeah, but my shoulder would still be free, see?¡± Serac smiled and demonstrated by windmilling the whole of her deadweight arm, then immediately regretted it when she felt a twinge in her back. ¡°Besides, it¡¯d actually help me aim better. Would keep everything lined up straight, you know?¡± Zacko narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying any of it. ¡°No, I don¡¯t know. Or rather, I think you¡¯re just wrong about that. Anyway, we already agreed to it. You took the first hit, so I¡¯m taking this next one. It¡¯s only fair.¡± It was only fair, and it was also a gallant show of camaraderie from the Manusya. Serac knew all this, and yet, for reasons she herself didn¡¯t fully understand, she hated the idea of another freesoul subjecting himself to the Bone Lord¡¯s enchantment. To [Enlisting] himself in the Bone Lord¡¯s¡ª ¡°Wait, Zacko! Don¡¯t¡ª¡± Too late. The NINEFOLD master had already reached (with his weaker left hand) into the center of the splayed-out rib bones. The rib cage snapped shut at nearly the same time. Zacko¡¯s arm, while much beefier than a [Substance 7] Rakshasa¡¯s, was also utterly bare. All of the sharp bits were allowed to penetrate the muscles and seed their dust therein, resulting in a Huskbound layer that was visibly thicker and sturdier than Serac¡¯s. ¡°Huh,¡± Zacko murmured as he inspected his newly immobilized arm, showing no reaction to the pain he must¡¯ve felt. ¡°I was half-hoping [His Sister¡¯s Keeper] might help to counteract this a little¡­ but I guess the Bone Lord¡¯s magic is just that much stronger.¡± For a moment, Serac stared aghast at her companion¡¯s transformation. But only for a moment, before a funny thing happened. All that earlier negativity¡ªher feeble attempts at dissuading Zacko from ¡®debuffing¡¯ himself¡ªhad dissipated in an instant. Instead, as she eyed the Huskbound casts that she and her companion now shared, her chest filled with a kind of soothing warmth. That warmth quickly turned to excitement, as Serac imagined the adventures the two of them would go on. The enemies they¡¯d smite together. The Realms they¡¯d raze and the Immortals they¡¯d bring to heel. All in service of the greater plan. All in service of¡ª ¡°This, uh, [Enlisted] effect,¡± Zacko said as he gave Serac a curious look. He clearly didn¡¯t share in her excitement¡ªyet¡ªbut he¡¯d come around, soon enough. ¡°What does it do exactly? I don¡¯t feel any different, and don¡¯t see changes to any of my parameters. Did Trippy have anything to say about it?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Serac widened her eyes, as if breaking out of a trance. Then she went right back to feeling oddly comforted by the latest turn of events. The corners of her mouth lifted into a vague sort of smile as she added, ¡°No idea, but also no complaints. A status effect with no real downside. In my case, it¡¯s even given me an extra stack of [Tribulation], so that makes me a happy camper.¡± Zacko held her gaze, with his eyes slightly narrowing again. Somewhere in a corner of Serac¡¯s mind, she ¡®felt¡¯ Trippy squirm, as though he too wanted to say something. ¡°Right,¡± Zacko was the first to respond, ¡°let¡¯s just put a pin in that and get a move on. I¡¯m not too worried about [Ossify] or [Enlisted], at least until further notice, but this [Lesser Bleed] could actually be a real problem¡­¡± ¡°[Lesser Bleed]? Why would that¡±¡ªSerac¡¯s eyes snapped wide open again, somewhat more permanently¡ª¡°oh my gods, you don¡¯t have any [Regen] effects counteracting it, do you? You¡¯re going to bleed out! How long do you have?¡± ¡°Well, assuming my math is more or less correct,¡± Zacko said with a shrug, showing none of the appropriate humility nor urgency. ¡°Maybe ten... fifteen minutes tops?¡± ¡°Okay, we need to stop yammering and start moving!¡± Serac had already turned to leave. ¡°We can¡¯t die here. Not until we complete the rest of the trials. Otherwise, we¡¯d be letting down¡ª¡± Serac stopped short of finishing her own thought, even as she continued to bound down the stairs. Who? Who exactly am I so afraid of letting down? The answer seemed so obvious, yet also¡­ so wrong. Zacko caught up to her in no time. And as it turned out, he was eager to pick up where she¡¯d left off. ¡°Aren¡¯t you curious at all about the Trinket description for [the Second Pledge]?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Serac panted without looking back, ¡°should I be?¡± ¡°Well, there are some interesting bits in here,¡± Zacko went on. ¡°Like, take this flavor text, for example: loyalty is earned, never coerced. What did yours say again?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°What?¡± Serac murmured, distracted. ¡°I¡­ dunno, something about heads and crowns?¡± ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s keeping with some kind of theme about a king and his subjects, huh?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know you cared about this sort of stuff.¡± ¡°Normally, I don¡¯t, but¡­ how do I put this? When it comes to this Bone Lord, all this somehow feels personal.¡± ¡°¡­ I think I know what you mean.¡± ¡°But still, the most important part is the rest of it. Says here we gain access to the West Wing of the Ossuary. Sounds fancy, but it obviously just means a new door has opened up, aaand here it is.¡± The Wayfarers had made it back to the foyer in record time. Now, of the four doors, only one¡ªthe central one upon the mezzanine¡ªremained locked. Serac had enough sense of urgency for the both of them. She rushed into the newly opened door on the right side, ready to shoot down whatever obstacles awaited. This time, however, she was immediately thrown for a loop by the West Wing¡¯s unique features. The door adjoined the side of another corridor of sorts, but one that was far more spacious than either the hallway or the staircase that preceded it. It was so wide and high-ceilinged, in fact, that Serac could imagine even a pre-disassembly Ash fitting inside comfortably. As big as the corridor was, from where the Wayfarers stood, Serac could only make out a small portion of it. The bone-packed walls here were gently curved, forming a smooth, continuous outline that extended in two directions. The floor too offered some clues, in the form of thin lines that followed the walls¡¯ curvature almost exactly. ¡°What is this?¡± Serac snapped at no one in particular, feeling the seconds tick away. ¡°What are we meant to do here?¡± At this, Trippy finally deigned to offer his two ?. ¡°Judging from its structure, as well as these visible marks left behind by its prior occupant, I could extrapolate the full shape and function of this room. I believe this is¡ª¡± ¡°A racecourse,¡± Zacko cut in then, inadvertently finishing Trippy¡¯s sentence. ¡°I think we¡¯re standing right in the middle of one of its turning points. Kind of amazing, honestly. Just how big is this Ossuary and how many souls had to leave their bones behind for its construction?¡± ¡°A racecourse?¡± Serac parroted incredulously. ¡°There are places built just for racing? Is that another weird thing you Manesferans get up to?¡± ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know where the Bone Lord got his idea from, but there¡¯s at least one Narakite who seems to enjoy his racing. Besides, this actually fits with the description for [the Second Pledge]. You see, this last part reads¡ª¡± KSSHHH, KSSHHH¡­!! Both Wayfarers swiveled at once towards the sudden noise, one that echoed from somewhere behind a corner of this so-called ¡®racecourse¡¯. It was at least somewhat familiar, in that it sounded a lot like the high-speed grinding of a Chakra. Yet, it was also utterly foreign¡ªin its volume, power, and sheer presence. Okay, what wacky and wonderful Aberrant¡¯s about to pop up next? Serac mused inwardly, more impatient than curious. We¡¯ve already had punchy boy, spinny boy, and shooty boy. Frankly, at this point, I¡¯m ready for anything. The answer, as it turned out, was all of the above. The noise grew to a deafening fever pitch as the culprit Aberrant poked its head¡ªor rather, its wheels¡ªout of the corner. And as a ready-for-anything Serac came face to face with the new arrival, she was momentarily frozen in shock. The thing was a wacky, wonderful, and wholly novel amalgamation of disparate parts. Yet, every one of its individual elements should¡¯ve been familiar to a pair of Wayfarers who¡¯d made it this far into the Ossuary. First, a quartet of Chakra wheels, one for each corner of a carriage made of melded bones. Their coordinated rotations drove the carriage forward at tremendous speed, kicking up more dust clouds in their wake. Upon this skeleton carriage stood a Huskbound statue, one that was clearly ¡®a cut above¡¯ its Footman and Archer variations. For one thing, it was decked out in pale-gray armor, complete with bulky shoulder pads that looked to be ¡®on fire¡¯, or at least simmering with black smoke. Around this impressive frame floated some dozen onyx-colored bricks¡ªa mass-produced version of the Footman¡¯s defensive device. Then, above its pair of Rakshasa horns appeared an HP bar, along with a new designation, as pompous as it was to-the-point: [Pishacha Charioteer]. As soon as it made its presence known, the Charioteer wasted no time to further terrorize the Wayfarers. For, just like the Archer, it possessed a weapon that far out-ranged Serac¡¯s REVOLVER. The Charioteer¡¯s ¡®shoulder pads¡¯ suddenly combusted in earnest, producing with it arrows of black, Infernal energy. These arrows then fired at once, aimed at each of the Wayfarers. Startled as she was, Serac fell back to her most basic instinct, which was to sidestep the oncoming threat. Even then, she was forced to bend at the waist to narrowly avoid being hit. Serac had dodged towards the wall, taking herself away from the chariot¡¯s intended course. But this had evidently played into the Charioteer¡¯s hands, for the statue now pivoted slightly before throwing a punch¡ªthe same flying fist technique employed by the Footman. Still scrambling, Serac dodged again, this time back into the middle of the track. Where she placed herself on collision course with a third threat: the wheels of the chariot. Out of ideas, and with her Stamina running low, she did the only thing she could think to do and dove. She used her free hand to cover her head (as if that would help) and lay flat on her stomach, making herself as small as possible. Luckily, there was just enough clearance beneath the chariot¡¯s undercarriage. Serac held her breath as the speeding vehicle rumbled past, mere inches above her head. She rolled onto her feet immediately after the near-miss, watching anxiously to see what else the Charioteer had in its bag. To her relief, it was already speeding towards the opposite corner, apparently content to leave the Wayfarers be for another lap. Relief then gave way to panic, as Serac remembered that she and Zacko were on the clock. And neither had lifted a finger to fight back! The chariot was already disappearing behind the corner, however, and a speculative shot of REVOLVER did nothing more than drop harmlessly onto the track. ¡°Okay, I get what this place is now,¡± Serac yelled desperately at Zacko, who was just now dusting himself off with an infuriatingly calm demeanor, ¡°but my other question still stands. Just how the hell are we meant to fight that thing?¡± That was when Serac jumped, as more strange noises filled the air. This new sound was also vaguely familiar. Unlike the grinding of Chakra wheels, however, this was more like the clickety-clack of hollow objects bouncing against each other¡ªand not too unlike a skeleton army rattling to life. As Serac spun about, she saw what had happened. A whole section of the wall beside her had been stripped bare, as the skeleton parts that had packed its surface fell away¡ªonly to reassemble into something else entirely. A quartet of skeleton wheels. A large, bone-woven carriage, spacious enough to fit a whole armored Pishacha¡ªor perhaps a Rakshasa-Manusya pair in a pinch. It was a second chariot, freshly constructed for the Wayfarers¡¯ pleasure. ¡°Right, so that¡¯s what that was,¡± Zacko said matter-of-factly as he sidled up to an open-mouthed Serac. ¡°Now, everything makes sense. You see, the last part of the description for [the Second Pledge] read: the wearer swears fealty to the Bone Lord¡¯s unholy war, thereby gaining access to the West Wing of the Ossuary, as well as the means to ride upon the Proving Grounds.¡± 55. The Naraka Derby 55. The Naraka Derby The first thing they had to figure out was how to actually ride the damn thing. Luckily for Serac, that task fell solely to Zacko, as the current ¡®wearer¡¯ of [the Second Pledge]. ¡°Did I already tell you I¡¯m not much of a vehicle person?¡± the man from the Realm of ¡®cars¡¯ grumbled as he climbed onto the front of the bone-woven basket. ¡°I was never comfortable entrusting my life to a hunk of metal. Or stone. Or bone for that matter.¡± Serac jumped onto the platform behind him and was delighted to find that she could see over the much taller Manusya. The carriage had been built such that its rear half was elevated over the front. This of course left the Rakshasa completely exposed to any external threat, but it also meant she could give back as good as she got. ¡°Well, you better get comfortable right quick, old man,¡± Serac urged, along with an unhelpful slap of Zacko¡¯s back. ¡°Don¡¯t be bleeding out on my chariot, now.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡± Zacko ignored the banter and muttered to himself. ¡°No reins, no horse, and four wheels instead of two. The only ¡®chariot¡¯-like part of this thing is the shape of the carriage! How the hell do I even¡­?¡± Serac watched impatiently as her chauffeur struggled to start the vehicle. To be fair to him, the chariot¡¯s front panel was a uniform field of melded skeleton parts. None of it jumped out as an obvious operational feature¡ªno steering wheel, no joystick, not even so much as a knob or lever. ¡°What about that?¡± The question, put forth by a disembodied voice, was so uncharacteristically simple that it took Serac a moment to attribute it to Trippy. ¡°You see something, Trippy? What is it?¡± ¡°There. You¡¯re looking at it right now, Wayfarer. Just off to the left of the panel¡¯s center.¡± Serac squinted over Zacko¡¯s shoulder. There, formed within a dense collection of irregularly shaped bones was a small yet distinct opening¡ªa near-perfect circle in the middle of an incomprehensible mess. ¡°You mean¡­ that hole? But what¡¯s Zacko meant to do with a ho¡ª¡± ¡°A hole? Where?¡± Zacko perked up, looking very much like he knew exactly what to do with a hole. He found it, then slapped his thigh with his non-[Ossified] hand. ¡°Of course! I should¡¯ve known!¡± ¡°What? What should you have known?¡± ¡°Well, this thing is a skeleton key, correct?¡± the Manusya enthused, holding up the lumpy rod that was firmly stuck inside his left fist. ¡°And what do you (normally) do with a key? You stick it in a keyhole.¡± He did just that, inserting one end of [the Second Pledge] into the chariot¡¯s ¡®keyhole¡¯. As soon as he did, the whole of the chariot went up in smoke. No, not smoke. Dust. Yes, Zacko¡¯s insertion of the key had activated the chariot¡¯s magic, alright, and in a form that was familiar to a pair of road-weary Wayfarers. ¡°Yippee,¡± Serac deadpanned, noting that her [Ossify] gauge had started ticking up again. ¡°More bone dust. This Bone Lord fella really commits to his themes, I¡¯ll give him that.¡± ¡°Well, in a roundabout way, this kind of makes sense,¡± Zacko quipped with a slight chuckle. ¡°Vehicles have to run on fuel, right? Cars on gas. Living castle on blood. And a skeleton chariot on¡ª¡± Bone dust. Even before its reinsman could finish his thought, the chariot began to move. Its Chakra wheels spun into high gear, driving the whole carriage forward with an abrupt burst of speed. ¡°Whoa, there, easy!¡± The ride got off to a rocky start, with the carriage pitching and yawing as Zacko struggled to acclimate to his new role. Thankfully for a Serac that had to hang on for dear life, her chauffeur was a quick learner. As the Wayfarers rounded their first corner on the racecourse, they enjoyed a smooth exit and acceleration onto the ensuing straightaway. ¡°Wait, so you are the one controlling this thing, correct?¡± Serac shouted to be heard over the wheels¡¯ KSSHHH-ing. ¡°Does this mean¡­ you¡¯re using Bone magic right now?¡± ¡°I guess so!¡± Zacko shouted back with a shrug. ¡°Must be the Trinket¡¯s work. Or it¡¯s thanks to this [Enlisted] effect. Or maybe it¡¯s both.¡± For just a second, Serac took in this information with an unhappy frown. That frown quickly reverted to a vague sort of smile, however, and she turned her focus to more important matters. To their vehicular combat upon the Proving Grounds. Since the Wayfarers had taken their sweet time to get going, they were already far behind the other horse in the race. It took them a whole lap of full-throttle riding before they caught sight of the dust cloud that belonged to the Pishacha Charioteer.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The extra lap had allowed Serac to get a lay of the land. Even to her novice eyes, the Proving Grounds appeared to be as simple as a racecourse could get. In a word, it was an ¡®oval track¡¯, with two long, parallel straightaways joined by identical turning points on either end. The Wayfarers sped down one of the straightaways now, drawing ever closer to the Pishacha¡¯s dust cloud. Serac could just make out a silhouette with its prominent shoulder pads, but the statue itself was still out of REVOLVER range. ¡°Can we go any faster?¡± she yelled into the buffeting wind, losing her patience by the Ksana. ¡°That¡¯s a genius idea!¡± came the sarcastic reply (she deserved that one, Serac could concede). ¡°Look, if I knew how to make this thing go faster, I¡¯d already be¡ª¡± And that was when the chariot did go faster, gaining a noticeable boost in power. Serac leaned forward to peer into Zacko¡¯s face. His dumbstruck expression told her that he had no clue how he¡¯d gotten his ride to speed up. Then she noticed that her [Ossify] gauge too had taken a sudden turn, now incrementing at an alarmingly rapid rate. ¡°It¡¯s the Pishacha¡¯s dust cloud!¡± she voiced her intuition. ¡°We¡¯re in it now, and that¡¯s given our own chariot extra juice!¡± ¡°So we¡¯re receiving a buff from the enemy¡¯s aura?¡± Zacko reverted to his newfangled Wayfarer-speak. ¡°But that should also mean¡ª¡± As if in confirmation of Zacko¡¯s inference, the Pishacha Charioteer pivoted in its platform before firing a volley of shoulder-arrows. The two chariots now shared the same dust-space, which meant their Bone magic¡ªmutually buffed by each other¡¯s ¡®aura¡¯¡ªcould travel freely in between. ¡°Whoa!¡± Zacko let out another exclamation as he twisted his body one way then the other. It wasn¡¯t clear whether the man¡¯s gestures had much to do with it, but the chariot did respond to his will, snaking past most of the incoming arrows before the last one bounced harmlessly against a spinning wheel. Evidently, a NINEFOLD master¡¯s dodge-tank capabilities were still in full effect, even in the saddle of a skeleton chariot. ¡°That close enough for you, princess?¡± Zacko yelled, with his eyes still pointed on the road. ¡°Time for you to dish out your own bit of magic!¡± The Wayfarers had indeed closed within REVOLVER range, but Serac knew that she couldn¡¯t unload all of her ¡®magic¡¯ willy-nilly. For one thing, the Pishacha ahead of them was still protected by the dozen or so mini-shields that orbited it like satellites. Sure enough, Serac¡¯s first burst of unimbued bullets did no harm, blocked by onyx bricks before they could find their target. Then, to her chagrin, three more replacement bricks materialized almost immediately. She emptied the rest of her cylinder. Same result. Except¡­ this time, she noticed something strange about her own bullets. Then, as she reloaded, she racked her brains to find a solution. Her thinking time was momentarily interrupted by a pair of flying fists. One Zacko managed to swerve away from, and the other Serac ducked under, even as inspiration hit her. The preceding sequence had taught her three things. 1) The Pishacha¡¯s mini-shields could regenerate, 2) the Pishacha couldn¡¯t attack while its shields were regenerating (and vice versa), likely due to resource constraints, and perhaps most importantly, 3) Serac¡¯s supposedly unimbued bullets were now imbued with Infernal energy. She didn¡¯t know when or how it¡¯d happened. She certainly hadn¡¯t cast [Blood for Blood], but she saw it clear as day when her last two attacks had been blocked¡ªblack bullets disintegrating against onyx bricks. Must be this dust cloud again. Or this [Enlisted] effect. Or maybe both. Whatever it is, it¡¯s not for me to question it¡ªonly to use it to my advantage. The conversion to Infernal damage wasn¡¯t what interested her most, however. Rather, it was this notion that she herself now had access to some form of ¡®Bone magic¡¯. Combined with what she¡¯d learned from her previous fights against the Footmen, the Archers, and the Chakras, she now had a pretty good idea how she was going to defeat the Charioteer. Luckily for her, she wouldn¡¯t wait long to put her idea to the test. For the straightaway was coming to an end, and both chariots were about to enter a corner, with the Pishacha leading the way. This was it. This corner was do-or-die. Even a racing novice like Serac knew instinctively that corners bred chaos¡ªand chaos gave rise to opportunity. ¡°Whatever¡¯s about to happen next,¡± she spoke calmly, just loud enough for Zacko to hear her, ¡°just hold course and keep accelerating.¡± ¡°What? But we¡¯re about to¡ª¡± ¡°Trust me. This is how we win.¡± On this occasion, the opportunity for victory arose precisely because the Wayfarers were already losing the race. As the Pishacha ahead of them began to turn into the corner, its shifting angles exposed the side of its chariot¡ªenough for Serac to have line of sight on a Chakra¡¯s skull face. As if sensing what its opponent was about to do, the Pishacha opted for attack as a form of defense. It unleashed everything at once: a pair of flying fists together with a volley of arrows. Zacko held up his end of the bargain, staying the course and allowing the chariot to tank the hits in earnest. Serac too was ready for it, holding up PULVERIZER for protection, even as she aimed REVOLVER from under it. She held this aim through a series of mitigated hits ([59!], [47!], [47!] -> [153!]), and fired back. The first burst she sacrificed to the onyx bricks. A section of the Charioteer¡¯s orbiting barrier fell away, clearing the way for Serac to square her aim onto the skull face. She had to wait a beat for her Stamina to recover, however, and she did so without worry, knowing that her enemy couldn¡¯t regenerate its shields so soon after its full-on attack. Now, it was time to make good on her promise to Zacko. The Manusya had done his part by keeping the two chariots aligned through a barrage of fists and arrows. Now, it was up to Serac to aim, lock, and fire. [148!], [148!], [148!] -> [444!] [800 ?] As one rear wheel dissolved into Souldust, an entire chariot lost its balance. The Charioteer, along with its ride, went into a wild spin, sending up a veritable hurricane of bone dust in its careening wake. Absolute chaos. Exactly as Serac had dreamed it up. Her job wasn¡¯t done, however. For a dust-hurricane of this magnitude was just crying out for a spark to set the whole thing aflame. A dumbfounded Zacko sped into the chaos, barely hanging on. Meanwhile, Serac slid a single cartridge into REVOLVER and raised it anew. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] 56. The Third Pledge 56. The Third Pledge [192!] This latest hit of self-damage brought Serac¡¯s HP down to its last measly chunk. Yet, by then, she was confident she didn¡¯t need any more of it. For her trouble, her own magic provided the spark to ignite a hurricane. The Pishacha chariot¡¯s twisting frame, along with its maelstrom of churning bone dust went up in black flames. The Infernal bonfire grew larger and roared fiercer with each tick of [Catharsis], burning away every last particle of the Pishacha¡¯s defenses. At no point did Serac give her chauffeur the instruction to stop. To Zacko¡¯s credit, he held course and kept accelerating as he¡¯d been tasked. And the Wayfarer¡¯s chariot crashed into the Pishacha¡¯s side-on, just as the black flames of [Catharsis] expired. KSSHHH¡ªcrunch! Both chariots shattered into their component parts: carriage and wheels into individual bones. And all three combatants got to know each other intimately, as they were squashed together atop a graveyard of their erstwhile vehicles. Reeling from the crash, Serac nevertheless knew there was no time to waste. Absolute chaos, just as she¡¯d dreamed up. It¡¯d left a pair of Wayfarers within melee range of their enemy: a chariot-less Charioteer bereft of any means to activate its magic. ¡°Now, Zacko!¡± Serac yelled, even as she pointed REVOLVER into the Pishacha¡¯s face. ¡°Give it everything you got!¡± For the next several Ksanas, the Proving Grounds played host to a dense cacophony of violence. The booming reports of a six-shooter. The bassy thuds of fist against armor. And the coarse crackles of splintering bones. [136!], [136!], [136!] -> [408!] Serac did her part of the one-sided pummeling, but Zacko was the real star of the show. Indeed, it was a NINEFOLD [Cestus] to a helpless and Poise-broken Charioteer that dealt the smiting blow. [1,200 ?] Even at a reduced rate, Serac¡¯s share of the Karma reward wasn¡¯t too shabby at all, which renewed her hope for Zacko¡¯s road to Karmic independence. The thought was nice and comforting, and it, along with the relief of hard-fought victory, nearly distracted her from the time-sensitive nature of her mission. ¡°The third key!¡± she yelled again, already scanning about the place in a panic. ¡°Where is it? Did you happen to see any side rooms along the track?¡± ¡°No,¡± Zacko replied, somehow still perfectly calm about his own impending death from blood loss. ¡°But uh¡­ I think this might be it?¡± The this referred to something quite odd that was happening with the Pishacha¡¯s ¡®corpse¡¯. Normally, Aberrants and Anchored souls alike simply faded into the Interstitium after they died. Indeed, the fact that the Wayfarers had received Karma for their smite indicated that the same should¡¯ve happened to the Charioteer. Instead, some physical trace of the Huskbound statue still remained. A thin veil of dust particles hovered and fluttered in the air where the Charioteer had stood a moment ago. The phenomenon was strange and certainly noteworthy, but it contained no key-like object for the Wayfarers to latch onto. ¡°Okay, but what do we do with this? Do I just¡­ touch it? Walk into it?¡± To this, Zacko only gave a noncommittal shrug, which annoyed Serac enough to spur her into action. ¡°I¡¯m going in,¡± she announced simply, then made to reach for the unidentified dust-borne entity. ¡°A moment, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy cut in then, sounding just agitated enough to distort his usual monotone. ¡°You currently have only 42 HP. Each of the previous [Pledges] had inflicted a small amount of damage¡ªsmall, but certainly in excess of 42 points. Are you sure this is wise?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m not sure!¡± Serac snapped, though more out of surprise than irritation. In her race against the clock, she¡¯d forgotten all about the ¡®payment¡¯ exacted by these [Pledges]. Now, even though it¡¯d been out of necessity, she regretted her gung-ho approach to destroying the Charioteer. ¡°What about you, Zacko? You got enough HP left to tank a bony trap thing?¡± ¡°Being perfectly honest, not really,¡± he said, looking visibly paler even than his usual complexion, ¡°but look, I¡¯m also perfectly willing to take one for the team.¡± ¡°No! That¡¯s out of the question. Between the two of us, I¡¯m the one who can afford to lose out on some Karma. I¡¯m doing this.¡± ¡°Serac Edin, stop!¡± Trippy¡¯s rare show of emotion coincided with another flash of pain across Serac¡¯s temple. But by then, she¡¯d already stepped into the mystery cloud, and her focus had shifted wholly to what new rewards/punishments awaited her. Would the cloud morph into a third key? Solidify into sharpened rib bones to drive stakes into a Rakshasa¡¯s heart? Whatever it was, she was ready. Had to be ready.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. But no. As it turned out, she wasn¡¯t ready for this. The mystery cloud first expanded as Serac stepped into it. Then its particles shifted in place, thickening in parts and thinning out in others to form a distinct shape. The shape of a Rakshasa child. Not just any child. It was a perfectly accurate projection of Dashi, the so-called ¡®vessel¡¯ of the Bone Lord. A ¡®hologram¡¯ made up of bone dust. Before either Wayfarer could react, the hovering image of Dashi looked down at Serac and smiled. Dashi¡¯s innocent, soothing, perfect smile. Then the image moved its ¡®mouth¡¯ as if to speak. Its words sounded like whistling wind, yet were somehow readily intelligible. ¡°You¡¯ve made the right choice, Wayfarer, and you¡¯re one step closer to fulfilling your purpose. Here, allow me to guide you the rest of the way, just as I did once before.¡± With that, the entity lost its shape once more, this time swirling and condensing into a single stream. This stream then twisted in the air before flying straight towards Serac¡¯s gaping mouth. ¡°Oh shi¡ª¡± By the time Serac snapped her mouth shut and clapped a hand over it, much of the dust had already sucked itself into her throat. Then the rest of it simply found the next path of least resistance, sliding into her nostrils and filling her airways until she felt like gagging. The discomfort, while intense, was also mercifully brief. One moment, the foreign presence inside her body was all she could think about. The next, it all settled into a dull sort of warmth that sat in the center of her chest. If anything, it felt soothing¡ªalmost pleasant. Despite her naturally defensive reaction, she was reminded once more that she¡¯d done this willingly. The illusion of constraint was still in full effect, and it was up to her to make the best of her circumstances. Then, this ¡®circumstance¡¯ made itself known in Pathsighted terms: [Trinket acquired: THE THIRD PLEDGE] [Realm of Origin: NARAKA] [Trinket Description: And sacrifice is a privilege of the worthy. While the Trinket is equipped, the wearer merits herself the Bone Lord¡¯s utmost trust, thereby gaining access to the Ossuary¡¯s Inner Sanctum and a place by his side in the battles to come.] [Burden: 22/31 (Heavy) -> 29/31 (Heavy)] Zacko, who¡¯d been so nonchalant about his own dire straits, now peered at Serac with an obviously worried expression. ¡°You¡­ you good?¡± he asked uncertainly. Serac considered the question for only a Ksana. The answer seemed so obvious¡­ and also so right. ¡°Never been better,¡± she said with a smile that felt a little out of step with her face. ¡°Now, come on, we still need to hurry!¡± She broke into a brisk jog before Zacko could respond. The Manusya joined her soon enough, now silent but still throwing her the occasional sidelong glance. As soon as the Wayfarers returned to the foyer, they saw that the fourth and final door upon the mezzanine had swung open. They hurried up the stairs, two steps at a time. Just as they reached the door, however, Zacko put a hand on Serac¡¯s shoulder to get her attention. ¡°I dunno about you,¡± he said, ¡°but my [Lesser Bleed] hasn¡¯t let up one bit. Whatever¡¯s in this next room, it better be a Waystation or something we can smite within seconds, otherwise I¡¯m probably done for.¡± ¡°Only one way to find out!¡± Serac said cheerily, completing the role reversal from anxious pessimist to annoying optimist. She bounded into the new room without hesitation¡­ and saw right away that Zacko¡¯s hopes had been misplaced on both counts. The room itself was smaller than she might¡¯ve expected, a far cry from the racecourse she¡¯d just left behind. It was roughly rectangular in shape, with a notably ¡®cleaner¡¯ look than anywhere else in the Ossuary. The walls and floors here were packed with bones, but with an organization and patterning that suggested design and artistry. A series of skeletal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lit by candles rather than blue lantern light. The center of the room was taken up by a large Huskbound table, one that could easily seat a dozen or more souls¡ªa dozen or more of the Bone Lord¡¯s most trusted servants. Indeed, the table was presently occupied by two such souls. Sundara sat primly at a far corner, with Meetra across from her, resting against the table itself. The older woman looked up and gave a faint smile as the Wayfarers barged in. The younger remained motionless, arms crossed and sullen face glaring at the floor at her feet. ¡°Oh wonderful,¡± Zacko remarked as soon as he¡¯d walked in. He then helped himself to a seat on the far side of the Bone Maidens. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have expected anything less, I guess. I won¡¯t lie to you, girls. I¡¯m in pretty rough shape, and I think this rematch is going to look a lot like our first fight.¡± ¡°Come on, Zacko, don¡¯t give up so easily!¡± Serac remained standing. Somehow, the sight of the Maidens hadn¡¯t dampened her newfound cheer one bit. ¡°We¡¯ve both ¡®skilled up¡¯ since our last go at it, so who knows what might happen! Besides, maybe we don¡¯t have to fight at all? Maybe these girls are just here to¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, we¡¯re most definitely here to fight you,¡± Sundara cut in mildly, with nary a flicker in her smile. ¡°Normally, this would be where we receive and honor the latest of souls to have proved themselves worthy of our Lord¡¯s highest favor. But you must understand that your situation is different.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Meetra finally stirred, training her unfriendly gaze upon Zacko in particular. She then spat out her next words, as if their presence upon her tongue sickened her, ¡°But our Lord is nothing if not generous with his subjects¡ªand often more than they deserve. I can¡¯t begin to imagine what it is, but he¡¯s seen something of redeemable value about the two of you, and he¡¯s willing to give you another chance. Prove yourselves anew here¡ªagainst us¡ªand you may yet find your way into the Inner Sanctum unbarred.¡± ¡°Just wonderful,¡± Zacko said again, dripping with the venom Meetra had expelled. ¡°I¡¯m so grateful for your Lord¡¯s generosity. So much so that I¡¯ve just got to thank him in person.¡± Meetra met this with an audible hmph, though a corner of her lips curled into the hint of a smile. ¡°We¡¯ll see how long your feelings of gratitude last,¡± she said as she hopped onto the table with a lithe motion. She¡¯d yet to draw her weapon, however. ¡°But first, your pathetic displays with the Three Pledges have left you in a severely weakened state. Not that it would make a difference, but our Lord has charged me with the task of bringing you back to full strength, to ensure the rigor of this final trial.¡± With those admittedly rather generous words, Meetra promptly sat back down again, this time upon the center of the table, cross-legged and head tilted down. Serac would¡¯ve thought the whole thing was rather ill-mannered of the young Maiden, if she didn¡¯t look so graceful doing it. Even here in hell, good-looking people could get away with all sorts of mischief! Serac¡¯s inane thoughts were rudely interrupted, however, by the unbelievable scene that unfolded before her. A lotus bud suddenly materialized on the table, right in front of a meditating Meetra. It then bloomed into a full flower, as a wayward Wayfarer finally cashed in on her long-unclaimed [Privilege]. 57. Eggs and Omelets 57. Eggs and Omelets As the Wayfarers began their most nerve-wracking meditation session yet, Serac volunteered to take first watch. It was the only logical choice, given that her counterpart was mere seconds away from bleeding out. Zacko took his much-needed reconstitution break, and Serac hunkered down for a staring contest with the Maidens. Or rather, with just Sundara, because Meetra had gone right back to her own staring contest with the floor. What vague sense of contentment Serac had harbored since making her [Third Pledge] had all but evaporated. Indeed, it¡¯d been ¡®shocked¡¯ out of her system upon discovering that Meetra the Bone Maiden¡ªthat cruel operator who¡¯d slit a child¡¯s throat without a second thought¡ªwas or at least had been a Wayfarer herself. ¡°Do you not trust us to leave you be while you meditate?¡± Sundara was the one to pose the question, still wearing her impenetrable smile. It was the kind of smile that made the accompanying question easy to answer. ¡°Of course not,¡± Serac said with a slight touch of incredulity. ¡°You guys have been nothing but bad news ever since we met. And this latest stunt with the Waystation¡­ if anything, it lowers you even further in my estimation. Because it means you once had the power and freedom to go your own way, then you threw it away, all for a child murderer with a skeleton fetish.¡± At this, Meetra momentarily turned her silent glare Serac¡¯s way, but still did not deign to speak. As for the older Maiden, she remained stock-still in her seat as she offered an even-keeled response. ¡°I would¡¯ve thought that one such as yourself,¡± Sundara said, ¡°risen from the roiling pits of the Damnatorium, could see what we see with more clarity and dream what we dream with more fervor. Are you really so selfish as to turn a blind eye to the suffering and despair of your fellow denizens of hell? Is the pursuit of your own ¡®power and freedom¡¯ the only guidepost upon your Path?¡± What? So caught off guard was Serac by these words that she sputtered once or twice before finding her own. ¡°Are you for real right now?¡± she exclaimed with a heavy note of incredulity. ¡°I think you have it backwards! I¡¯m not the one kidnapping children or turning their parents into Bone Husks! What do you see and dream that could even begin to justify that sort of nastiness?¡± ¡°What I see is a Realm that¡¯s full of life, yet deprived of the means for said lives to prosper,¡± the older woman answered calmly. ¡°I see that I and so many other Rakshasas¡ªand that includes you, Serac Edin¡ªhave been condemned to this existence through no fault of our own. Penitence for sins we didn¡¯t commit. Karmic retribution for lives we¡¯ve no memories of. I know that my words ring true to you, don¡¯t deny it.¡± Indeed they did, and indeed she couldn¡¯t. Until her moment of transmutation, Serac wouldn¡¯t have even dreamed of being anything more than a Penitent lifer. But now? ¡°You ask what I dream, Wayfarer?¡± Sundara continued, and for the first time, her eyes misted slightly, and her voice quivered with genuine emotion. ¡°You may be content to go your own way, never again to spare a thought for this Realm once you¡¯ve moved on, but I¡¯m not. I dream of a Naraka severed of our Karmic chains. A Naraka strong and united enough to defy our collective fate. For Rakshasas everywhere to rise¡ªto take from this world what we deserve in this life. Not in the next, and certainly not from a previous one. And that is why Meetra and I serve our Lord. For he is the guidepost to our dream.¡± For a moment, Serac was flustered into silence. All this time, she¡¯d been so focused on her Wayfarer¡¯s task of, well, Wayfaring that she never stopped to think on the places and people she¡¯d leave behind. Sure, she¡¯d built that bridge across the Fibrinous Canyon. She supposed that was something. But what would become of Ravi, Pazu, Indira, and all the other Hopers she¡¯d gotten to know? Would she ever see them again after ascending to a higher Realm? Did she care? The answer came quickly, which was that, yes, of course she cared. But what was the point of caring if she hadn¡¯t the means nor even the will to act on it? What was the point of connection if it was never meant to be permanent? At least in that sense, perhaps the other woman was right. Hers was a selfish and ultimately lonely journey, regardless of how many companions or friends she met along the way. For her Path would never let her stray for long. Serac became aware of a strange sensation around her right temple. Not so much pain, but more like tingling¡ªlike a thought or voice that was just on the cusp of making itself known. ¡°Do not be swayed by the Maidens, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy made himself heard then, and while the timing was a little suspicious, Serac somehow knew it to be mere coincidence. ¡°They may have their own Path to tread, but so do you. Do not lose sight of what matters to you.¡± You don¡¯t need to tell me, Trippy. I know exactly where my priorities lie. And they certainly don¡¯t include¡ª ¡°The killings, the kidnappings, this Bone Blight,¡± she spoke quietly, finally managing to match Sundara¡¯s calm. ¡°They¡¯re all part of this noble dream, are they? You know, Zacko taught me this Manesferan saying the other day. Is this like a ¡®break a few eggs to make an omelet¡¯ type deal for you?¡± Sundara did her best Zacko impression by raising one eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t know what an ¡®omelet¡¯ is, but if you¡¯re asking whether the sacrifices are for the greater good, then the answer is yes. Make no mistake, Wayfarer: what we have on our hands is a war. For Naraka to rise, we must first drag down the other Realms¡ªespecially those who sit pretty atop the mountain. I¡¯m given to understand that you¡¯ve¡­ already had some dealings with an agent of Devalem. Then surely, you must know the kind of power that¡¯s required to defy the gods themselves. Power that¡¯s far beyond the reach of Narakites in our current state.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure [Ossifying] folks and keeping kids penned up in a cave is doing wonders to improve that situation.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°What our Lord needs are soldiers who can fight. Soldiers who¡¯re absolutely loyal. Who¡¯ve proven themselves worthy of championing his cause. Too many of our fellow Rakshasas fall well short of that standard, but there¡¯s yet hope for the younger generation. A brave few among those children you claim to care about will rise to the occasion¡ªto join myself and Meetra by our Lord¡¯s side. As for the others, well¡­ you¡¯ve already seen what became of some of them. In the end, they shall all serve the greater plan, one way or another.¡± Serac frowned at this, trying to understand what had been left unsaid. Then it hit her like a ton of onyx, dust-borne bricks. ¡°The Pishachas!¡± she gasped. ¡°Are they¡­ were they the children that failed to prove themselves?¡± ¡°More accurately, they¡¯re reincarnations of those children, though perhaps not in the sense you might understand the word. Their physical components, as well as their most basic cognitive ability to obey and fulfill our Lord¡¯s wishes, reinforced by and encased in Bone to grant them power far beyond their means. It¡¯s a lengthy and taxing process, one that¡ªregrettably¡ªneither Meetra nor I could assist with. But that is why our Lord has his vessel to act as his eyes, ears, and mouth.¡± A Ksana passed in blissful confusion¡­ then Serac retched, even though there was nothing for her to regurgitate. This time, there¡¯d been no need to read between the lines, for Sundara couldn¡¯t have made any plainer the horrors of what had been said. All those children penned up in one place, with a wise, smiling leader to herd the flock. ¡®My friends¡¯, he¡¯d called them. How much of that was Dashi the boy and how much an empty vessel filled by the Bone Lord¡¯s evil presence? Had all of it been an act? Had she and Zacko been manipulated all this time, as part of an elaborate and involuntary audition to become the Bone Lord¡¯s next champion? Had the Wayfarers run blindly through their choices and constraints, all to save a child that was beyond saving? But no. She remembered that moment when a scrawny youngling had thrown himself in front of a Huskbound fist. She remembered his fading whispers about a fight he couldn¡¯t back down from, echoing the tender courage passed down from his newest friend. She knew that Dashi the boy was a real soul, one sincere enough to break through a Realm Immortal¡¯s magic¡ªespecially when it mattered most. And it was this incontrovertible truth that now fueled her anger as she glowered across the table at the Bone Maidens. ¡°Heavy is the head that wears the crown?¡± she recited in a low voice. ¡°Loyalty is earned? Sacrifice is a privilege? I¡¯m sorry, but your Lord sounds like a miserable crybaby on top of being a massive hypocrite. So, thanks for the job offer, but no thanks. I think I¡¯d rather take my chances with my own vision and dreams. And I gotta tell ya, the vision of you and Meetra going poof into Souldust is looking real good, right about now.¡± Sundara made no reply, but neither did she keep her smile. Meetra pushed off the table and turned to face Serac, with one hand reaching for the sword at her belt. As if on cue, that was when Zacko too snapped his eyes open and rose to his feet. ¡°Yikes,¡± was the first word out of his mouth. ¡°Did I miss something? This room is a lot tenser than I remember.¡± Even as she kept her eyes on the Maidens, Serac could see (with a sinking feeling) that Zacko¡¯s left arm was still covered in a layer of Bone. ¡°It appears that reconstitution cannot heal this partial [Ossification],¡± Trippy made the same observation. ¡°My guess is you would need to cut it off at the source, i.e. the Bone Lord himself.¡± That would be my guess too. But first, we need to show these Maidens what¡¯s what. Serac was angry, but she hadn¡¯t lost her head completely. She knew she still desperately needed to reconstitute herself, and as she approached the lotus flower, she eyed Sundara questioningly. ¡°Go ahead, Wayfarer,¡± the older woman said, unsmiling but calm. ¡°We shan¡¯t go back on our word, your insults notwithstanding. Our Lord wants a proper trial, and he shall have it.¡± ¡°Go ahead, Serac,¡± Zacko echoed the sentiments, though for much different reasons. ¡°Get yourself your beauty meditation. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll keep an eye on these jokers.¡± Serac took them up on the offer, though she needed a few moments to calm herself enough to meditate. Once she did, she first checked her status to confirm what she already suspected. [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [Wayfarer Status Effect: ENLISTED] [Wayfarer Status Effect: HEAVY] [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] Of the negative status effects she¡¯d been lugging around, [Lesser Bleed] was the only one that healed. Her [Ossify] bar was still partially filled, about a third of the way full. And she was, at least according to Pathsight, still [Enlisted], even though she couldn¡¯t be further from feeling any sort of loyalty to the Bone Lord. Oh well, gotta take the buffs with the debuffs, I guess. She then turned her attention to leveling. Despite her fat cache of Liminal Karma, the requirements had ballooned to the point where she could level only once. After some consideration, she put the point into [Abidance], hoping to offset the Stamina and Poise penalties imposed by her [Heavy] Burden. Finally, she took a deep breath before rousing herself from meditation. By now, her anger had subsided somewhat, but she was still ready and willing to¡ª ¡°¡ªthrow it down, right this instant! That does not belong to you!¡± ¡°Sorry, but like my mama always used to say, finders keepers. Which is especially appropriate in this case.¡± Serac rose to her feet, frowning in confusion at the fracas unfolding before her. Zacko and Meetra were both displaying their ill manners by squaring off atop the table, their faces an inch away from each other but not quite touching. ¡°Yikes,¡± was the first word out of Serac¡¯s mouth. ¡°Did I miss something? This room is¡­ somehow even tenser than I remember.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing,¡± Zacko said breezily. ¡°It¡¯s not nothing,¡± Meetra snarled, sending spittle into Zacko¡¯s face. ¡°Every second you keep that amulet around your unworthy neck is a second you spend desecrating the memories contained therein.¡± Serac¡¯s frown deepened as she searched her own memories. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s that Trinket!¡± she exclaimed as realization dawned. ¡°[His Sister¡¯s Keeper], was it? But why¡¯re you so worked up¡ªoh.¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing, Serac,¡± Zacko said again, with a quiet yet unmistakable menace. ¡°Sweetheart here seems to think she ought to be exempt from the consequences of her own choices. Well, I¡¯ve no intention of humoring her tantrum¡­ and every intention of punishing her straight-up evil deeds.¡± That was when Sundara too finally left her seat, uttering an audible tsk in a rare show of impatience. ¡°I think we can all agree¡±¡ªshe reached for an urn that was tied to her belt¡ª¡°that we¡¯ve gone far past the point where words mean anything. So¡­ what say we all throw down and let our blades do the talking?¡± 58. Two-a-Side 58. Two-a-Side The urn shattered, instantly filling the whole room with dust. The Bone Maidens transformed, empowered as they were within their Lord¡¯s roiling shroud. Kindly Sundara and fierce Meetra made way for two Bone-riven abominations, with nary a distinguishing feature save for the weapons in their spike-gnarled hands. [Designation: SUNDARA Avatar of the Bone Lord] [Designation: MEETRA Avatar of the Bone Lord] Whether because she¡¯d seen it once before¡ªor perhaps because she was now focused on a concrete plan¡ªthe sight of the Maidens¡¯ deformations no longer alarmed Serac. The Maidens could grow as many onyx projections from as many wrong places as they wished; all they were, in the end, were a couple of HP bars to be whittled down to zero. ¡°So, we¡¯ve got on our hands a classic 2v2.¡± Long before the fight, Zacko had once again lent his veteran wisdom to the Wayfarers¡¯ strategy session. ¡°I¡¯ll let you take a stab at it first. What do you think will be the key to us winning?¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Serac had given it some thought before taking her stab. At the time, the memory of her dismal, ¡®build¡¯-limited performance against Hanuman had still been fresh on her mind. ¡°I guess to make sure that the match-ups play to our individual strengths? I don¡¯t know how we¡¯d do that, though, considering the Maidens are so similar to each other.¡± ¡°Wrong,¡± had been the quick and overly gleeful reply. ¡°No, you see, the key to winning a 2v2 is to turn it into a 2v1. We gang up and focus down one of them as soon as the fight begins, then we¡¯ll be at a massive advantage the rest of the way.¡± ¡°Wow, that¡¯s¡±¡ªbrilliant? Only logical?¡ª¡°kind of scummy, isn¡¯t it? I mean, the Maidens themselves didn¡¯t do that to us. They just split up and took out both of us at the same time.¡± ¡°Pfft. Come on, princess, do you want to play fair or do you want to win? But you know what, you¡¯ve just given me an idea.¡± ¡°An idea? But I haven¡¯t even¡ª¡± ¡°This ¡®match-up¡¯ thing you were going on about¡­¡± Zacko had elaborated, eyes glinting with mischief. ¡°It wasn¡¯t by design, but we¡¯ve already established a sort of natural pairing. You were getting into it with the old hag, whereas the young pissy one seemed to have it out for me. We can use that to our advantage. Here¡¯s the plan¡­¡± Serac had lent a humble ear to this so-called plan, despite her misgivings about Zacko¡¯s choice of vocabulary. And wouldn¡¯t she know it? The build-up to the rematch had played out almost exactly as the Wayfarers drew it up. Serac had taken first watch while Zacko reconstituted, and she¡¯d made sure to focus her attention on Sundara, drawing the older woman into a healthy debate on the future of Naraka. Zacko had then timed his baton touch to perfection, waiting until the air between the Rakshasas was nice and heated. Afterwards, while Serac was conked out in meditation, Zacko had goaded the younger Meetra into a war of words (probably quite easily at that). However, one thing the Wayfarers had failed to account for was the Maidens¡¯ reaction to seeing [His Sister¡¯s Keeper]. Fortunately for them, the miscalculation had worked out in their favor, as the Trinket just happened to be on Zacko¡¯s person¡ªand the hot-tempered Meetra just happened to be the [Sister] in question. What was more, neither could¡¯ve predicted just how strongly this [Sister] would react. Meetra¡ªa former Wayfarer now sundered and engorged by the Bone Lord¡¯s magic¡ªsquared up to Zacko as soon as the fight began, and let out a bone-rattling battle cry. It was a truly horrific sound¡ªmore animal than Rakshasa, and more pure energy of torment than animal. It was a roar of release, hatred, and bloodlust. The Maidens were the first to attack. They did so simultaneously and with different targets in their sights. Meetra swung her sword in a powerful diagonal slash, which then shuddered towards Zacko as a wave of black energy. Sundara unleashed her six-hit combo, a flurry of twin daggers aimed to cut up her fellow Rakshasa across the room. Serac had eaten the same attack twice before, and quite painfully at that. She was ready for it this time, angling her whole Huskbound left arm just so to block much of the combo. At the same time, she held REVOLVER up and over PULVERIZER¡¯s shield, with its barrel pointed at¡ª [25!], [26!], [28!]¡­ [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [192!] There was no point holding back. The Wayfarers needed to win this fight within its opening moments, before the Maidens could grow wise to their plan. For theirs was a gambit that could work once and only once. [Catharsis] erupted from REVOLVER¡¯s barrel and gouged out a path amidst the dust cloud, headed straight for Meetra. The fire, empowered as it was by Serac¡¯s [Enlistment] into the Bone Lord¡¯s shroud, engulfed Meetra¡¯s energy blade before it could reach its intended target. It also forced the younger Maiden to check her aggression and put her shield up, only for that onyx plate too to be consumed by surging black flames. [239!] The third tick of [Catharsis] went through and connected with Meetra. The damage, however, was much smaller than a gunslinger might¡¯ve hoped for, given the target¡¯s mitigation profile and the fact Serac was nearly at full health when she¡¯d cast the spell. All this occurred simultaneously with Sundara¡¯s attack. And while Serac had managed to block the first half of that combo, she completely whiffed on the second, allowing three of the flying daggers to hit her unmitigated.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡­ [81!], [85!], [89!] -> [334!] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BLEED] [TRIBULATION active (x4): current buff at 20%] Along with that final hit, Serac fell to her knees, having lost her Poise sooner than she¡¯d expected. Whiffing on the blocks had hurt a lot, and the Poise penalty from [Heavy] certainly didn¡¯t help matters. It wasn¡¯t yet time to lose all hope, however, as she wasn¡¯t in this alone. For while the Rakshasas exchanged a triangle of blows, a Manusya kept his sole focus on a single target. By the time Serac fell, Zacko had already moved in on Meetra, occupying a large space that had momentarily been cleared of all dust. Here, both combatants lost their access to the Bone Lord¡¯s magic, but one of them was a little less dust-reliant than the other. [THE SECOND DAO¡ªFAN] [THE SEVENTH DAO¡ªSTAFF] [THE SIXTH DAO¡ªCUDGEL] Three-part combo: a palm to dislodge an opponent¡¯s balance, a kick to send her up into the air, finished off by a headbutt to spike her back down to earth and¡ª Poise-break! Meetra keeled over, with her Bone-riven frame hitting the floor with a heavy clatter. Her HP bar, surprisingly modest compared to some of the behemoths the Wayfarers had come up against previously, was already down to its last half. One more combo from a NINEFOLD master, along with the critical multiplier, should be enough to finish her off. The fight hadn¡¯t gone completely according to plan. The 2v2 still remained very much a 2v2, though with a Poise-broken member on each side. And both Serac and Meetra were now at their direct opponent¡¯s mercy, about to receive their smiting blow. It was, in many ways, a fair trade, one Serac would gladly take. Come on, Zacko! She tried to will her partner into decisive action. Forget about me and focus on your smite! I might be down for the count, but I know you can finish the rest of this fight on your own¡­ Across from her, it was evident that Sundara was of the same mentality, ignoring her partner¡¯s plight to instead bear down on Serac with daggers raised. This was only to be expected: death to the enemy, above all else. A double-daggered six-hit combo. With every stroke flying with deadly precision towards a defenseless¡ª [THE FOURTH DAO¡ªSHIELD] Serac¡¯s vision of her own death was suddenly interrupted¡ªobscured by Zacko¡¯s muscular frame. The Manusya took the entirety of Sundara¡¯s combo upon his right forearm, with every mitigated hit chipping away at his glass-cannon HP bar. Serac couldn¡¯t believe it. Surely, Zacko wouldn¡¯t go back on a plan he himself had proposed? But as she glanced across the arena, she saw the kneeling but still intact figure of Meetra, now digging her sword into the floor in order to raise herself up. What was more, the cloud of bone dust had refilled its original shape, thereby regaining its supply line to the Maiden. With a flash of anger, Serac too pulled herself out of her Poise-break. She and Zacko would need to have a good talk after all this was over, but for now, winning the fight took priority over airing out grievances. The fight in question had once more tilted to one side, with a pair of Wayfarers aligned with one Maiden. The pair moved by instinctual agreement, deciding then and there on a new twist to their plan. Zacko was the first to turn instinct into action, stepping into Sundara with an upward kick¡ª[Staff]. This was soundly rebuffed by a thick shield summoned out of thin dust. The NINEFOLD master then transitioned smoothly into a shoulder barge on his ¡®useless¡¯ Huskbound side¡ª[Pauldron]. In response, a second shield appeared, stopping Zacko¡¯s advance and keeping Sundara¡¯s HP untouched. Crucially, however, the first shield had been dismissed in order to summon the second. Serac saw this phenomenon and immediately understood its significance. Fights in the afterlife were all about resource trade-offs, and even a Bone Maiden empowered by her Lord¡¯s magic was no exception to the rule. As Serac rose to her feet, fully Poise-recovered, she shoved REVOLVER¡¯s barrel straight into the center of the second shield, just as Zacko disengaged. Then, as her partner came back in with a hefty punch from the other side¡ª[Cestus]¡ªshe merely waited for her own chance to strike. A third shield appeared to block [Cestus]. At the same time, the second shield crumbled to dust, clearing the way for REVOLVER, already aimed and locked onto the fleshy underside of Sundara¡¯s rib-bone projections. A trusty triple burst, with every bullet auto-imbued by Infernal energy. The first two found their target, sending spurts of dark blood into the dust cloud. [126!], [126!]. But before Serac could fire off the third, her opponent lashed out with a dagger, forcing her aim wide as she sidestepped the counterattack. This ¡®trade¡¯ between the Rakshasas left them fully exposed to interference from a third party. Zacko moved in again, adopting a neutral stance that gave no indication of where his next attack might come from. Sundara covered her bases by producing her largest shield yet: an onyx scutum that spanned from head to toe. In this case, however, coverage proved to be no match for agility¡ªboth of body and mind. Zacko never broke stride as he ran vertically up the shield before vaulting over it altogether. [THE SIXTH DAO¡ªCUDGEL] Head goes up, head comes down. A NINEFOLD master¡¯s Poise-break special found a landing spot right between Sundara¡¯s overgrown horns. The Maiden dropped to the floor, with her whiteless eyes now showing only white. The fight had deviated dramatically from the Wayfarers¡¯ original plan. But it¡¯d somehow found its way back to the same result, with one Maiden left defenseless against a smiting blow. Both Serac and Zacko readied this blow at the same time, one from either side¡ªa Huskbound PULVERIZER meeting in the middle with a NINEFOLD fist. Yet, at this point, the fight was still a 2v2. And the other Maiden bore down on the Wayfarers now, Poise-recovered and sword raised. Another trade, Serac understood. Meetra has her pick of either me or Zacko, and neither of us has the HP left to tank a direct hit. Which makes it all the more important that we both commit to this attack, right now. Because even if one of us falls, the other can still get the smite on Sundara. Instinct, thought, action. Everything was locked in within a matter of Ksanas. Both Wayfarers committed to their smiting blow on the same target, knowing full well that only one of them would land. [THE THIRD DAO¡ªCESTUS] [Auxiliary Technique: THE GRIND] Serac braced her shoulder as PULVERIZER connected with and ground against a solid target. But¡­ something was wrong. She¡¯d expected powdered bone and shredded flesh at the end of her rock-vambrace, and yet, all she got was an¡ª Onyx shield that spanned from head to toe, covering both Maidens within its stolid protection. For as it turned out, Serac¡¯s ¡®read¡¯ of the situation had been wrong. She¡¯d expected both Maidens to behave similarly in the heat of the moment¡ªto choose death to the enemy above all else. What she¡¯d failed to account for was that one of the Maidens was a little less ruthless than the other. Meetra¡ªthe young pissy one¡ªbuckled under the Wayfarers¡¯ two-pronged attack. But she¡¯d already done what her instincts had told her to do¡ªdeclining a certain kill to instead preserve the 2v2. 59. Mud Wrestling 59. Mud Wrestling All four combatants stopped what they were doing at the same time¡ªout of need rather than want. Each of them took a precious moment to recover their Poise, Stamina, presence of mind, and what have you¡ªthe better to go right back to tearing at each other¡¯s throats. Yet, before any of them could move again, the room acted first. Or rather, the [Ossify] cloud shrank as a whole, with its dust particles wrapping around the combatants like an extra layer of skin. Serac¡¯s first instinct was to brush it away, convinced that it¡¯d been some new spell cast by a Maiden. Except she couldn¡¯t. Her arms¡ªeven the free one¡ªrefused to move, weighed down as they were by the thickened air all around. It wasn¡¯t just her arms. Her whole body felt stuck in suspended animation¡ªor at the very least in hyper slow motion. It was as if she¡¯d been fully submerged in a tarry substance¡ªthe result of bone dust coming together and clumping into bone mud. Then the mass of bone mud suddenly spoke, with individual clumps rubbing against each other to produce barely intelligible ¡®words¡¯. ¡°You¡¯ve all been so brave and so brilliant,¡± the voice said, somehow carrying a sweet singsong quality despite the coarseness of its instrument. ¡°It pains me to know that some of you will fall here.¡± Serac tried to pinpoint the source of the voice, to no avail. For one thing, she could barely keep her eyes open amidst the gathering mud. For another, the voice had no pinpoint source, as the entire mass transmitted its message and its magic as one amorphous entity. ¡°But I also know that to end this trial prematurely would be an affront to every one of you,¡± the voice continued, far too sweet for the occasion. ¡°For what is war if not commitment? What is victory if not built upon the sacrifice of our allies? Which is why I offer myself to you now. I offer power the likes of which you¡¯ve never held within those flimsy vessels you call bodies. Bleed, my friends! Bleed, break down, and grow anew¡­ that you yourselves may yet become the most fearsome beasts hell has ever unleashed!¡± With that ominous pronouncement, the whole mass of bone mud pulsed¡ªas a beating heart would upon a deluge of adrenaline. Serac felt this [Osseous] heartbeat pulse through her own body¡ªher own vessel¡ªand fill its every crevice, starting from her sternum and pumping its way through to the very tips of her fingers and toes. Across from her, the same spasm seized the pair of Bone Maidens, their open wounds widening and spewing fresh blood as the spiny projections of their onyx skeleton shuddered and splintered into an ever more nightmarish shape. Serac felt the heartbeat as an injection of power. But at the same time, her own heart surged with terror. By now, she¡¯d become something of an expert at identifying the presence of another entity within her self. And this was invasion and effacement like nothing before it¡ªher very bones laying down the substrate to nurture a soul far stronger and far more ancient than her own. As if in emphatic confirmation of Serac¡¯s fears, Pathsight flashed its warning, in the form of an [Ossify] bar that accelerated towards completion. Soon, the bar would fill, and Serac somehow knew that what awaited her was a fate far worse than dying as a Bone Husk. She could see¡ªas clear as mud¡ªa future in which her own body was riven by Bone and her own soul irrevocably bound to the Bone Lord¡¯s will. No! She thought she¡¯d screamed, but her voice drowned within the churning mud, producing nothing more than a guttural echo. She tried to claw at her own chest, as if by pulling out her breastbone, she could stop the deformation before it took her completely. Before she lost everything to the¡ª ¡°Serac, catch!¡± A faint blue light streaked into Serac¡¯s periphery, right before she managed to catch it in her trembling hand. The light turned out to be a solid object¡ªa bloodstone cameo, to be precise. She understood the assignment and flung the chain around her neck haphazardly, fashion be damned. [Trinket equipped: HIS SISTER¡¯S KEEPER] [Burden: 29/31 (Heavy) -> 46/31 (Overburdened)] [Poise: 52 (Penalty) -> 15 (Penalty)] [Wayfarer Status Effect: OVERBURDENED] There it was. Through no real intent on her part, she¡¯d shot past that [Overburdened] threshold Trippy had warned her about. The severe penalty to Stamina expenditure meant she could ill afford to waste a single action. Whereas the Poise penalty meant a single unmitigated hit would likely bring her to her knees. The trade-off was far from ideal. But it was necessary. With the danger of [Ossify] build-up momentarily postponed, Serac turned her attention back onto her enemies. And not a moment too soon. For Sundara had recovered from her Poise-break, and Meetra too had come to terms with the new rules of the game. Even now, the latter raised her sword, no doubt to cut through the mud with her resurgent strength. A diagonal slash. Serac read the attack¡¯s trajectory and readied her PULVERIZER shield. Except Meetra¡¯s sword never emitted the expected wave of energy¡ªat least not one Serac could see front on. Instead, the attack flew in from behind her¡ªand she sensed the approaching blade just barely in time to spin away from its expansive edge.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Ugh!¡± The cry of surprise and pain had issued from Zacko. The NINEFOLD master, ever the more agile and battle-tested of the two Wayfarers, had nevertheless reacted too late to Meetra¡¯s trickery, taking a hit that thudded against his trailing Huskbound arm. Within the space of a vanishing Ksana, Serac processed and understood what had happened¡ªand what needed to happen next. First, Meetra¡¯s blade had teleported rather than taking a direct flight, emerging from the far side of the mudpile before beaming towards the Wayfarers¡¯ backs. This was the form the Maidens¡¯ ¡®upgrade¡¯ had taken: attacks that could be conjured from anywhere while retaining their devastating effect. Second, Serac had reacted more sharply than Zacko¡­ because her senses were sharper. Just as [Enlisted] had affected them differently, so too had the Bone Lord¡¯s latest intervention empowered one of them while impairing the other. Was it because she was a Rakshasa and he a Manusya? A natural boon for those native to hell, or perhaps simply the Bone Lord playing favorites? The reason didn¡¯t matter, and neither did Serac much care. All that mattered was she take what she was given and make the most of it. Third, and most importantly, if the Wayfarers were to have any hope of victory, this fight must end within the next few Ksanas. Regardless of how the Bone Lord might dress up the facts, this was not and never would be a level playing field. The Maidens had embraced the Bone Lord¡¯s magic far too intimately and thoroughly for the Wayfarers to match. The fact that the [Ossify] clock ticked for only one team was proof enough of that. Yes. Victory and survival would come down to the next few Ksanas, and Serac had neither the opportunity nor the resources on hand to try anything cute. Exactly two bullets remained in REVOLVER¡¯s cylinder, with neither seated in Chamber One. No spell. No help. Just a gunslinger and her two bullets, both of which must find their target. But just because Serac couldn¡¯t match the Maidens in pure power, it didn¡¯t mean she couldn¡¯t surpass them in trickery. She raised REVOLVER, loosely aiming at the space between the two Maidens, where their bony projections overlapped one another. The Maidens were already on the move, weapons readied in concert, and both with the same target in sight. But just as their blades were about to come down, Serac holstered REVOLVER and used her free hand to grab the Trinket around her neck. She held it out against the mud, as far as the chain would let her. Then, for one fleeting Ksana, [His Sister¡¯s Keeper] gave off a blinding flash of blue, as if determined to keep its wearer safe from the Blight that raged all around. It was an indefinable ¡®action¡¯ that didn¡¯t count against Serac¡¯s Stamina reserves. And though the light had been blinding, her intention wasn¡¯t to blind. She didn¡¯t break stride as she veered off to one side and dodged into Meetra, trusting fully in her own gamble. Sundara¡¯s daggers flew in from all sides¡ªsix distinct points of origin for six parts of a combo. But they were all aimed at one destination: a space Serac had already vacated, leaving behind only the unwieldy heft of her Huskbound PULVERIZER. [25!], [26!], [28!], [29!], [30!], [32!] -> [170!] The combo brought Serac¡¯s HP down to its last chunk, but the mitigation had kept the Poise damage to a minimum. She could still move, with just enough Stamina left to finish what she¡¯d started. Most importantly, Meetra had checked her swing, allowing Serac free passage to get right up in the younger Maiden¡¯s grill. Up close, Serac could see that even a Bone-riven face had retained some of Meetra¡¯s natural beauty¡ªespecially when it¡¯d been softened by surprise, as it was now. And before that surprise could morph back into all-consuming rage, a gunslinger unholstered her gun and shoved it against the roof of her enemy¡¯s open mouth. [252!], [252!] -> [504!] In the end, both bullets found their target¡ªand to spectacular effect. Serac¡¯s own mud-borne upgrade had taken a most direct route: a straight 100% AV buff. For all Meetra¡¯s skill with Bone magic, she couldn¡¯t conjure a shield inside her own mouth. And as such, she ate the whole damage, unmitigated. Serac felt her opponent go limp, then immediately turned her attention onto the second target. REVOLVER¡¯s cylinder was now empty, and Serac knew that Sundara wouldn¡¯t give her the time nor space to reload. But she also knew that she and her partner had finally gotten what they¡¯d been after all fight long. For what had started as a 2v2 had, at last, become a 2v1. Sundara pivoted and drew back her daggers. But before she could unleash her next combo, something tall and muscular barged into her, Huskbound-shoulder-against-spiny-Bone. [THE FIFTH DAO¡ªPAULDRON] [Pauldron] was one of Zacko¡¯s least damaging Daos, but it was unmatched in its ability to knock an opponent off-balance. On this occasion, it sent Sundara tumbling back onto the floor, as her daggers popped up from everywhere and went nowhere. Serac gave herself a moment¡¯s breather. Then she dashed forward to finish the job. Zacko put his back into it and wrestled Sundara¡¯s Bone-riven frame (ouch!), pinning her down as he transitioned into a downward punch¡ª[Cestus]. The Maiden, even as she struggled to push the Manusya off her, blocked with an onyx shield. This was the chance Serac had been waiting for. She dove for the ground¡ªgunslinger turned pugilist¡ªwith PULVERIZER aimed and locked onto the center of Sundara¡¯s shield. Zacko shifted into another attack. The shield shifted with him, leaving the door open for¡ª [Auxiliary Technique: THE GRIND] ¡°Arrggghhhh¡­!!¡± Even through a Huskbound layer, Serac felt the Bone-riven roughness of Sundara¡¯s chest. She gritted her teeth and held firm, through pain so intense as to be paralyzing¡ªpain both her own and her enemy¡¯s. [503!] This time, Serac could afford to keep her eyes on an opponent¡¯s HP bar as it drained away to nothing. Sundara¡¯s expression remained frozen in a scream of bitter agony, even as her voice cut off and her physical being faded into Souldust. Then and only then did Serac let out a sigh of exhausted relief. ¡°Is¡­ is it over?¡± But something wasn¡¯t right. For one thing, Pathsight kept its silence despite the Wayfarers having smited a [Greater Aberrant]. No congratulatory message. No Karma pop-up. And for another, the storm of bone mud continued to rage on¡ªa clear indication that, at least in the eyes of the Bone Lord, this ¡®trial¡¯ had yet to run its course. Somewhere behind the Wayfarers, the mud shifted again. And from its midst rose the slim, smooth figure of a Rakshasa woman. 60. Her Brothers Bearer 60. Her Brother''s Bearer ¡°It doesn¡¯t end here!¡± Meetra uttered in the thin, cracking voice of a soul who¡¯d been stripped of all her powers. ¡°Not like this¡­ I won¡¯t let it!¡± The sundering skeleton had shrank back to its original shape and proportions¡ªback inside a skinny Rakshasa woman who was not much sturdier in build than a Serac Edin. What was more, her clothes and her skin were still torn up where her own bones had penetrated, leaving her a bloody mess who looked Ksanas away from completely falling apart. With all that and more, it was a miracle she was standing at all. Serac attuned to Pathsight, ringing with one and only one question: what the hell is going on? The only answers she got came by way of missing elements. Meetra¡¯s HP hadn¡¯t gone to zero; instead, she no longer had an HP bar at all. The label that had designated her as an [Avatar of the Bone Lord] was also missing. As far as Pathsight was concerned, this feeble collection of crumbling tissue was no longer Aberrant. To Serac¡¯s eyes, however, the woman and the fact of her still being alive couldn¡¯t be further from normalcy. I¡¯ve never killed¡ªlet alone fought¡ªanyone or anything Pathsight didn¡¯t explicitly tell me was an enemy. Plans and instincts alike failed her then, and she defaulted to what she did best whenever she was lost: ask her friends for help. ¡°What do we do?¡± She turned to Zacko, and saw right away that he was in no state to give an answer. For the man was already half-encased in Bone, with [Ossify] developing rapidly in the absence of a Trinket¡¯s protective effect. One of his legs was already rooted to the floor, and half of a wry smile had set in stone, rendering him incapable of much more than staring back at his partner with one wide eye. Whatever Serac were to do, she needed to be the one to decide, and she needed to do it now. ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± That was when Trippy cut in with a noticeably harsh rebuke. Gone was his usual polite monotone, revealing the impatient taskmaster underneath. ¡°Finish her. Finish the fight!¡± Trippy was right, of course. Aberrant, Anchored, Wayfarer¡ªnone of it mattered now. Before Serac¡¯s disbelieving eyes stood a soul who meant her harm. A soul who was deserving of punishment. If Serac were to smite Meetra now, she could confidently call it the most appropriate use of that word she¡¯d ever known. So, what possible reason did she have to hesitate? Across from her, Meetra took one lurching step forward. At the same time, her sword fell from her hand and clattered onto the floor. Serac could easily see why, for this ¡®hand¡¯ was more a split end of torn muscles and broken bones than anything that resembled functional anatomy. The sight of it, incredibly enough, hit her with a pang of sympathy, which she quickly forced herself to ignore. Serac raised REVOLVER and fired in a rush, marksmanship be damned. It took her two more confused tries at flicking a weightless trigger before she realized she¡¯d forgotten to reload. ¡°Shit, shit, shit!¡± Just one. One bullet should be all she needed to end this miserable creature before her, but even that one bullet took a seeming eternity to secure in its chamber. And by the time she managed to arm her weapon again, the creature had already lurched all the way into point blank range. Serac fired¡ªonce more into Meetra¡¯s face. Along with REVOLVER¡¯s report, Meetra¡¯s head sprang backwards with tremendous force. But the Maiden stopped short of falling down altogether. Somehow, she¡¯d held on¡­ by wrapping her torn and broken mess of a hand around Serac¡¯s neck. No, not exactly her neck, but rather the object that hung from it. A shapeless clump of Meetra¡¯s flesh, blood, and bone had found purchase upon the bloodstone cameo that was [His Sister¡¯s Keeper]. And she used that leverage to pull herself up¡ªone last time¡ªto leave Serac with an image that could only arise from the true depths of hell. Searing red eyes whose whites had blackened. Streaming tears of pure blood, like tributaries to the Sanzu River of yore. All framed by a wrathful sneer¡ªcracked teeth and burning throat that even now squeezed out a final pledge. ¡°I¡¯ll not let any of this go to waste.¡± Meetra¡¯s voice grated and snapped, like a mangled skeleton being crushed to powder. ¡°Carry on and defy our Lord if you must, Wayfarer. But now, you¡¯ll do so while knowing and bearing the weight of my sacrifice. My brother¡¯s and my people¡¯s sacrifice. All that I fought for and more that I left behind¡ªI leave it all here, as memories encased in Flesh, Blood, and Bone. My Bone, my brother¡¯s Blood¡­ and your Flesh!¡± With that, Meetra went up in flames. Hers weren¡¯t the black flames of Penitence, nor the red-hot fire of a more traditional persuasion. Rather, her flames gave off an oddly icy warmth and bore a subtle, pale-gray sheen¡ªthe color of Bone. Serac felt the heat of it all the same, as minute rays of energy that bore into the depth of her sternum. And as Meetra¡¯s self-combusted form burnt itself out and joined the Interstitium, it left behind something solid and immutable. [GREATER ABERRANT SMITED] [Waystation Privilege awarded. Current charge: 1] [12,000 ?], [1,970 ?] -> [13,970 ?] Too much was happening all at once, and this latest (and chunky) influx of Karma happened to be the least of Serac¡¯s concern. She first spun to check on Zacko, and was dismayed to see him all but entirely covered in a Huskbound layer. Don¡¯t tell me we went through all this trouble just for Zacko to lose out on his Karma again!This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. But Meetra¡¯s death also coincided with a change to the whole dust/mud situation. The cloud of Bone magic that filled the room now ceased its swirling, only for a disembodied voice to sing out again from its midst. ¡°I¡¯ve seen enough.¡± The voice bubbled with barely contained excitement. ¡°Consider your Pledges heard and your valor proven. The final door has been opened to you, my friends, and you¡¯ll find me upon my throne, waiting eagerly for our meeting. Be sure to present yourselves at your best and finest¡ªrid of all this¡­ extraneous baggage!¡± The cloud¡ªas well as the Bone Lord¡¯s ¡®presence¡¯¡ªdissipated at once. At the same time, Serac felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her person. Sure enough, one look and one flex of a free-moving arm confirmed that the Huskbound effect was gone from her left arm¡ªalong with that knobby ¡®key¡¯ in her fist. [Burden: 46/31 (Overburdened) -> 32/31 (Overburdened)] [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] She lost one stack of [Tribulation], just as the [Ossify] bar disappeared from her overlay. Off to the side, Zacko too had come unstuck, now throwing out a few air punches as if to test his mobility. Relief flooded Serac. Then and only then could she finally turn her attention back onto the other change to her body. Which was just as well, as it seemed even Pathsight had needed the extra time to make sense of it all. For Meetra¡¯s immolation had left a permanent imprint. [His Sister¡¯s Keeper] had embedded itself into Serac¡¯s body, with its chains nested deep in her neck and the cameo itself now fused with the skin and muscles of her chest¡ªencased in Flesh, as it were. The Trinket had also lost its blue glow, painted over by a flat, pale-gray hue. [Trinket altered: HIS SISTER¡¯S KEEPER -> HER BROTHER¡¯S BEARER] [Realm of Origin: NARAKA] [Trinket Description: And if even memories fail, I¡¯ll be right here waiting¡ªwaiting for the world to catch up to our dreams. When the Trinket is equipped, the wearer [ANCHORS] herself to her current station, rendering her incapable of ingraining Karma. This Trinket cannot be removed at will.] [Burden (readjusted due to Trinket alteration): 32/31 (Overburdened) -> 65/31 (Overburdened)] [Wayfarer Status Effect: ANCHORED] [TRIBULATION active (x4): current buff at 20%] Serac stood there¡ªas still as a Bone Husk statue¡ª¡®staring¡¯ at the words that now branded themselves into her consciousness. [Anchored]? Cannot be removed? Incapable of ingraining Karma? No way. This can¡¯t possibly mean what it¡ª ¡°This is an unmitigated disaster, Wayfarer!¡± Trippy suddenly cried out, giving voice to Serac¡¯s own anguish. ¡°I¡¯ve knowledge of [Anchored] as a previously observed status effect, but never in Trinket form. And to think that you were so close to your ascension!¡± Wait, why is Trippy saying it like my journey¡¯s over? Like I can¡¯t climb any higher¡ªlike I¡¯m not a Wayfarer anymore? It can¡¯t end here. Not like this. I can¡¯t¡ª ¡°Serac! Can you not hear me?¡± Zacko¡¯s uncharacteristically anxious voice cut through the haze of Serac¡¯s panic. She turned to him again, and saw that his eyes too gleamed with Pathsight. ¡°You¡¯re still [Bleeding]!¡± the Manusya exclaimed. ¡°Hurry and get yourself reconstituted before you lose the rest of your HP!¡± ¡°Right,¡± Serac murmured dully, not quite hearing her own words, ¡°of course.¡± She sat down amidst the upturned rubble that used to be a fancy table. The Waystation itself was still intact, with the lotus flower now hovering a few inches above the floor. And only with the greatest effort and a total shutdown of her current emotions did Serac manage to start her meditation. With body healed and resources replenished, Serac turned a restless mind onto her list of persistent status effects: [Wayfarer Status Effect: ENLISTED] [Wayfarer Status Effect: ANCHORED] [Wayfarer Status Effect: OVERBURDENED] [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] First came the unhappy confirmation that ridding herself of [Ossify] hadn¡¯t released her from [Enlistment]. Then, her mind lingered on the word [Anchored], filling with all sorts of questions and theories¡ªnone of which helped ease her worries one bit. The only thing that could give her any semblance of hope was an innocuous phrase found within the Trinket¡¯s description: ¡®cannot be removed at will¡¯. At will. Did that mean there was a way to remove it? Just not by something straightforward¡ªlike cutting it out of her flesh? Next, she switched into leveling mode, and her heart sank anew at what awaited her there. [Karmic Level 25 -> ] [Liminal Karma: 18,421 ?] [Requisite Karma: INVALID] All that Karma, and no way to spend it! The thought of it caused her physical pain, like she¡¯d just been made to swallow hot coal by a Damnatorium Jailer. She quickly shut off her connection to that part of Pathsight and tried to distract herself with more questions. Oh yeah, what the hell is up with this new Burden? From 46 down to 32, then back up to 65?? That first subtraction, I can put it down to losing the two Pledges, but then this ridiculous jump at the end¡­ ¡°It¡¯s all to do with [Her Brother¡¯s Bearer],¡± Trippy offered an explanation. ¡°Upon its alteration from [His Sister¡¯s Keeper], it received a new Burden value of 50. Ironic, given that it¡¯s caused you nothing but immense harm. Normally, a Trinket¡¯s Burden value should be roughly proportional to the benefit it confers.¡± Serac took in this new information with a stoicism that ill suited the occasion. What Trippy said made sense, but she also had her own view on this so-called ¡®irony¡¯. ¡°I think it might be a matter of perspective,¡± she said, channeling the occasional philosopher in her. ¡°Maybe, for some Wayfarers out there, it is a massive benefit to be [Anchored] again.¡± She, of course, had considered one Wayfarer in particular. A soul that had tasted freedom and all the possibilities it offered. A soul whose tumultuous journey had led her to turn her back on her dearest family and perhaps even her own humanity. Yet, in the bitter end, that same soul had decided that the best use of her accursed freedom was to stay right here¡ªright here amidst the roiling depths of hell that she called home. 61. The Unrest Before the Storm 61. The Unrest Before the Storm "Just so we¡¯ve covered all bases, there¡¯s no point to me taking Froggy off, is there?¡± ¡°No, Wayfarer. [The Frog in the Well] has a Burden value of 15. Removing it will still leave you [Overburdened] at [50/31]. Not only that, but you also won¡¯t be able to put it back on afterwards.¡± ¡°Right¡­ because Pathsight lets you put on a Trinket that shoots you past Max Burden, but it won¡¯t let you tack on any additional Burden after that. So I can¡¯t just embrace the [Overburdened] life and wear like twenty Trinkets at the same time. Shitty¡­ but I guess it kind of makes sense.¡± ¡°Correct. But I daresay your bigger worry is the [Anchored] status effect. Remember, the Benchmark for ascension from Naraka to Pretjord is KL-30, and you¡¯re still¡ª¡± ¡°A few levels short. You think I don¡¯t know that? Unless I can somehow get rid of [Anchored], I¡¯m literally stuck in hell. But what do you want me to do about it right now?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Zacko cut in then, having just strolled back into the room after his patrol of the premises. ¡°Don¡¯t imagine it¡¯ll come as any surprise, but all the other doors are tightly shut, even the ones we went through for the Three Pledges. Forget being stuck in hell; right now, we¡¯re both stuck inside this [Ossuary] until we do something about the Bone Lord. In other words, we¡¯ve got nowhere else to go but up.¡± ¡°Just the way we like it,¡± Serac¡ªstill seated next to the lotus flower¡ªsaid this with half a sigh, even as she absent-mindedly caressed the bumpy outline of [Her Brother¡¯s Bearer] upon her chest. Zacko leaned down and peered into her face. ¡°You, uh, wanna talk about it, princess? For this next part, I really don¡¯t know what to expect. About Dashi, about smiting the Bone Lord, any of it. All I can say is¡­ you might not want to get too attached to that Karma stash of yours.¡± At this, Serac¡¯s half-sigh turned into a full one. 18,421 ?. In numerical terms, that was even more than how much debt Zacko had been in when they¡¯d first met. All of it was about to go poof, unless she could smite the Bone Lord within two tries. And this was all in the context of the massive handicap she now carried. Unable to level. Unable to change anything about her build. Not to mention the severe penalty imposed by [Overburdened], keeping her constantly one shot away from Poise-break. ¡°Basically, you have to no-hit this fight,¡± Zacko continued then, seemingly having read Serac¡¯s mind. ¡°Which means knowing beforehand everything the boss might throw at you. Which is impossible without having fought him at least once. Which is why, on this first attempt, I suggest we don¡¯t try to beat him at all.¡± Serac had been nodding along distractedly¡ªbarely registering Zacko¡¯s words¡ªuntil this last bit snagged against everything she knew about being a Wayfarer¡ªabout being a person. ¡°Wait, what?¡± She frowned up at him. ¡°Don¡¯t try to beat the Bone Lord? What, are we just going to hand him a free win? Why?¡± ¡°Just hear me out, newbie,¡± Zacko retorted with a light chuckle. ¡°Let¡¯s say we go in guns blazing on our first attempt. Maybe we manage to get a few hits in, chip his HP down by about a third. But because we¡¯re so focused on outputting DPS, we get sloppy defensively, and die within the first few mechanics. Maybe we learn how to deal with those and do better on the second attempt, but then he¡¯s got more mechanics up his sleeve¡ªbecause why wouldn¡¯t he? He¡¯s the freaking Realm Immortal¡ªand we die to those instead. Bye bye, Karma. So, you see, what we really ought to do instead is focus on staying alive and¡ª¡± ¡°Try to learn everything we can on the first attempt. Yes, I get the picture. But I gotta tell you, Manusya man, I¡¯m never going to get used to your jargons.¡± ¡°The Manusya is right, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy offered his two ? then, but if Serac weren¡¯t mistaken, there was a distinct note of annoyance to his tone, as if it killed him to agree with ¡®the Manusya¡¯. ¡°Until we find a way to dispel [Anchored], we must safeguard your Liminal Karma as best we can. No easy task, especially against a Realm Immortal, but after this fight, you¡¯re unlikely to find another Aberrant in Naraka that¡¯s remotely as Karma-rich. We must make every ? count, lest we hamstring our progress for much longer than necessary.¡± There Trippy went again with his increasingly frequent rhetoric: progress and efficiency above all else. Did he know that he was acting less and less like a glossary and more like¡ªdare she say it?¡ªlike a Jailer, prodding Serac from one painful situation to another? Well, if he didn¡¯t, he surely would¡¯ve heard her rather petulant thoughts just now. In any case, Trippy met the latest of Serac¡¯s telepathic grumblings with pointed silence. Zacko, who by now had become quite good at giving Serac and the voice in her head the space they needed to hash things out, sensed the impasse and came to their rescue. ¡°Well? You ready to do this thing or what?¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Serac scaled her full sigh back to a half. ¡°Guess I¡¯m as ready as I¡¯ll ever be.¡± The final door led into the Ossuary¡¯s vaunted ¡®Inner Sanctum¡¯. As soon as Serac walked in, she let out a gasp of genuine wonder. For the breathtaking sight before her had¡ªeven to her newbie eyes¡ªall the markings of a grand boss arena. The throne room was, in essence, an enormous spire¡ªconical in shape, with a vast circular base and a contiguous wall that shot towards the unseen heights above. A final spire atop the Bonespires¡¯ peak. Even in terms of decor, it was clear that the Bone Lord had spared no expenses¡ªif such expenses involved sources of Bone. A dense collection of Huskbound statues lined the floor¡¯s circumference. Every single one of them had been captured in an identical pose, with hands joined and heads bowed in reverence. Whomever these Husks had been in life, they¡¯d all found peace in their final moments. But whether that ¡®peace¡¯ had been organic or engineered was quite a different matter. One might¡¯ve assumed that the statues¡¯ reverent gazes would¡¯ve pointed to the Bone Lord¡¯s throne. Instead, the roughly man-sized object that sat at the center of the room defied description at first glance. It looked to be a container of sorts, with a rotund, curved surface that somewhat evoked a Jailer¡¯s bloated belly. After a moment, Serac recognized it as a giant urn, much larger and more ancient than the one the Maidens had employed. The weathered earthenware was riddled with cracks and blemishes that gave it a remarkably shabby appearance¡ªespecially odd for a centerpiece to the magnificent space all around it. But if Serac¡¯s Wayfaring journey had taught her anything, it was that the most powerful ¡®instruments¡¯ in the afterlife often disguised themselves with shabby veneers. As for the actual throne, the Wayfarers were forced to look up to find it. From one section of the wall protruded an entire platform made up of melded skeletons. The edge of this platform rose to form a kind of hemispherical niche. And inside this niche sat a lone figure that the Wayfarers knew well. Dashi occupied the Bone Lord¡¯s throne, with his skinny legs dangling off the edge and his handsome smile tilted down for the Wayfarers¡¯ benefit. Serac didn¡¯t need a second glance to note that the boy¡¯s complexion had returned to a healthy cinnabar. And though his chest was covered by an unassuming tunic, there was nothing to suggest that anything of his erstwhile injury still remained. So, the Maidens did their part. Dashi¡¯s made a full recovery, after all. It was welcome news, but one Serac didn¡¯t quite know how to feel about. ¡°Welcome, Wayfarers,¡± Dashi called down from the rafters. ¡°You don¡¯t know how happy I am to see you again!¡± The boy¡¯s smile was so beautiful and so genuine that it was hard not to believe his words were too. If Serac had her way, she¡¯d simply help him down to the floor and walk on out of the Ossuary, hand in hand¡ªtwo happy Wayfarers and their little guide. But alas, she and everyone else in the room knew that things were far from that simple. ¡°Let¡¯s cut the chit-chat, shall we?¡± Zacko was the first to respond, peering up at the boy with one eyebrow raised. ¡°We¡¯re only interested in two things. First, a Mandate for our ascension¡ªbecause we¡¯ve obviously kicked enough ass to deserve it¡ªand second, for you to leave my man Dashi alone. Boy¡¯s at a critical age, and as someone who respects and admires him, I wouldn¡¯t want possession by some creepy skeleton freak to hamper his growth. Any chance you could just grant us those two things so we can all be on our way?¡± Be on our way. Zacko had said pretty much what Serac would¡¯ve said, had she been in a slightly chattier mood. But having heard the speech, she was no longer sure she agreed with its entirety. I feel like¡­ maybe we¡¯ve stuck our necks in too deep. Maybe just ¡®being on our way¡¯ doesn¡¯t really cut it anymore. Once again, and without realizing she was doing it, Serac put a hand on her chest. Above them, Dashi¡¯s smile only widened a touch, as though he¡¯d anticipated Zacko¡¯s every word. ¡°What you suggest is a fairly clean solution,¡± the boy¡ªor the creepy skeleton freak that possessed him¡ªspoke mildly. It was evident that he no longer bothered with any pretense about Dashi¡¯s not-quite-Dashi-ness. ¡°In any other circumstance, I might¡¯ve even considered it, but alas, we all know that the waters have been muddied somewhat. First and foremost, I¡¯m now short two of my most valued followers¡ªand I have you, chiefly, to thank for that. I rather hoped you might help to balance the books by taking their place. How¡¯s that sound, hm?¡± The Wayfarers exchanged a glance, then immediately looked away again. Serac didn¡¯t know about Zacko, but she for one felt a little embarrassed. Because, for at least one very forgettable Ksana, the thought of staying by Dashi¡¯s side and becoming his new protector had felt almost tempting. It¡¯s just one of the weird effects of [Enlisted], she told herself, even though she knew that wasn¡¯t the full truth. Nothing I can¡¯t overcome. Focus on the anger. Focus on the reason we¡¯re here. ¡°No can do, Mr Skelly,¡± Serac yelled up at the throne. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the way you treat the souls who¡¯re loyal to you, and I can¡¯t say I¡¯m a fan. I think we¡¯re just gonna have to accept that there¡¯s only one way this thing can go.¡± Dashi¡¯s smile didn¡¯t change, but his dangling legs began to swing back and forth. It was an oddly (yet fittingly) childish gesture, one that could indicate either anxiety or excitement. Based on what she¡¯d gathered about the Bone Lord, Serac was willing to bet on the latter. ¡°I understand, Wayfarers,¡± Dashi sang sweetly, ¡°and I don¡¯t blame you one bit. After all¡­ loyalty is earned, never coerced. Just like my king compelled me to follow in his footsteps, once upon a Kalpa, I know I must inspire the same loyalty in my own vassals. You two have sufficiently proven yourselves just by reaching this room. Now, it falls to me to prove¡­ why you should choose me as your worthy leader.¡± Dashi¡¯s singsong voice suddenly took on a guttural echo. The implication was clear enough. Whatever entity that hid within the ¡®vessel¡¯ was finally ready to come out and play. At the same time, the total change in identity received its official recognition from Pathsight: [Designation: DASHANAN Mandala of the Bone Lord] [Aberrant Race: Rakshasa] [Aberrant Class: Realm Immortal] [INFERNAL Instrument: RELIQUARY] ¡°Behold, Wayfarers!¡± The Not-Dashi rose from his seat and bellowed, voice now utterly bereft of a child¡¯s innocence. ¡°And witness me, my King, as I stand where you once stood. Witness my answer to untold centuries of suffering and Penitence. This is how I carry on your war and grace it just triumph. This is how I raise hell!¡± 62. Reliquary 62. Reliquary [Designation: RELIQUARY] [Instrument Class: INFERNAL] [Anchored Realm: NARAKA (Immortal)] [Item Description: Curious souls have long wondered about the origins of our physical forms. There¡¯s a comforting logic in the belief that, whence we came, there we shall return. But what are we to believe if where we return to is someplace we can neither see nor touch? Some claim that everything in the afterlife is, in one way or another, a reflection of worlds that exist beyond our memory or comprehension¡ªthat fabled ¡®Mundane¡¯ of which much is spoken but very little understood. It then follows that a soul¡¯s body is the product of ¡®reassembly¡¯¡ªreconstitution, if you will¡ªpieced together from the myriad memories that passed on from the Mundane. What manner of magic¡ªand what twisted and tortured mind behind it¡ªwould it take to leave something solid and enduring of souls that would otherwise turn to dust? And to what end? Commemoration? Reclamation? Or perhaps simply¡­ perpetuation for its own sake?] *** First, Dashi¡¯s body went limp, like the life went out of him. One moment, the boy stood at his full, puny height upon a throne of Bones. The next, his head lolled onto his chest and his feet slipped off the platform. Serac reacted as any responsible adult would, dashing forward in an attempt to catch a helpless, falling child. Except the child never fell. Instead, his whole body levitated in the air, just in front of the skeleton platform. It was as if he was being held up by something solid yet shapeless, and Serac soon saw that to be exactly the case. Whatever soul had just vacated Dashi had simultaneously breathed life into the giant urn in the center of the room. RELIQUARY now shuddered and roared with flames both hell-black and white-hot, as it spat out fresh whorls of bone dust into the air. This latest of dust-storms rapidly filled the entire room with its fine, pale-gray particles. By now, the pattern had been well-established, and Serac would¡¯ve found it almost hackneyed if she didn¡¯t know just how potent its magic was. [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [TRIBULATION active (x4): current buff at 20%] Serac felt a sudden surge of energy within herself, one that didn¡¯t translate to any Pathsighted number. She recognized it immediately as the empowering effect of [Enlisted], now drawing directly from the source itself. The temptation to give herself over was made ever stronger by the size and proximity of the magic itself, but¡ªironically enough¡ªshe no longer found it difficult to resist. Because she knew what giving in here meant, and that knowledge was enough to stoke the flames of her rebellion. The draw of the Bone Lord¡¯s shroud was great, but Serac¡¯s absolute contempt for the idea of subjugating herself to a skeleton freak was much greater. Thanks, Mr Skelly. I¡¯ll take the free buff, and I¡¯ve no intention of paying you back. That still left the matter of resisting the Bone Lord himself. As far as Serac could tell, the Immortal had yet to show his true form, whatever that might look like. Luckily for her, the very source of his magic sat right in the middle of the room, presenting a hefty yet brittle-looking target for a gunslinger to aim at. The Wayfarers had agreed not to ¡®try anything¡¯ on this first attempt, but the prospect of shattering the Bone Lord¡¯s power generator to pieces was too tempting. More tempting still than [Enlisting] in his army. Aim, lock, fire. Serac¡¯s aim was true, and her target was large. But, as it turned out, it was also well-protected. The bullet, imbued and augmented by the Bone Lord¡¯s own magic, was also consumed by the same storm, melting into slag before it could reach the giant urn. Beside her¡ªand before she had a chance to warn him¡ªZacko had given into the same temptation, spinning into the urn with a karate chop. He bounced back immediately and flapped his hand as if he¡¯d touched a hot furnace¡ªand in a way, he had. ¡°No good,¡± he announced redundantly. ¡°Just lost a quarter of my HP to that. Think the only way to win this fight is to get at the Bone Lord himself.¡± ¡°No kidding, but where even is he? What am I supposed to shoot at?¡± At this, both Wayfarers flicked their gazes towards Dashi. The boy still looked to be suspended in sleep, utterly defenseless by all appearances. The thought crossed both Wayfarers¡¯ mind at the same time, then they shook their heads to dispel it at the same time. No way are we going to harm Dashi any more than he already has been. We¡¯re here to save him as much as to smite the Bone Lord. But the question still remained. Just where was this Lord, and how were the Wayfarers to proceed with their smiting? As if in answer, the [Ossify] storm all around rippled and spoke in a guttural contrabass. ¡°Fret not, Wayfarers! What kind of a king would I be if I didn¡¯t lead my battles from the front?¡± The exclamation was accompanied by something akin to a volcanic eruption. The top of RELIQUARY burst with new flames, releasing a thick stream of bone dust that geysered towards the top of the spire. The stream quickly thinned, but not before leaving behind a fearsome imprint.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The Bone Lord¡¯s physical form resembled¡ªwho could¡¯ve guessed?¡ªa giant skeleton. Or at least the upper half of one, which even now filled and blackened the space above the Wayfarers¡¯ heads. Unlike the dust that had birthed it, this skeletal colossus was of glistening onyx in color. with a trio of hulking horns to complete the Rakshasa look. The extra horn in the middle was a deformity rarely seen among Rakshasa-kind, but in this particular case, it was almost fitting¡ªgiving the head the appearance of having donned a crown. In place of Flesh or cinnabar skin, the Bone Lord wore a crackling aura of hell-black and white-hot flames. And in place of Blood, torrents of pale-gray bone dust coursed through the crevices and cavities within his anatomy. Two such cavities were the orbital sockets upon the skull, which together fixed their turbulent glare upon the Wayfarers on the ground. A shudder ran down Serac¡¯s spine. The Bone Lord¡¯s direct gaze had woken anew that surge of longing from earlier, now magnified by a sense of awe. She gritted her teeth and gripped REVOLVER to brace herself. Just focus on the task. At least Mr Skelly¡¯s given you a huge target to shoot at! Then, as if he¡¯d read her mind, the Bone Lord¡¯s ¡®voice¡¯ shook the arena once more. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t think I¡¯d make this easy for you. What kind of a king would I be if I didn¡¯t also bring along a legion of followers, ready to lay down their souls at a moment¡¯s notice?¡± With that, one giant skeleton hand reached into a giant urn, only to emerge with more bone dust that scattered into the storm. Except there was discernible intent to this particular batch¡¯s movement. The dust reconfigured itself into myriad pellets¡ªeach about the size of a .44 Special¡ªwhich then dispersed and flew at speed in all directions. Serac instinctively ducked, staying true to her and Zacko¡¯s plan of staying alive for as long as possible. It took her a moment or two to realize that there¡¯d been no need. For none of the Bone-bullets had been aimed at the Wayfarers. Instead, they flew out in a perfect circle, before each connecting with one of the many Huskbound statues that lined the wall. At nearly the same time, Serac¡¯s entire Pathsighted vision flooded with labels and HP bars. [Pishacha Footman], [Pishacha Footman], [Pishacha Footman], ¡­ [Pishacha Archer], [Pishacha Archer], [Pishacha Archer], ¡­ The pandemonium didn¡¯t stop there. Some of the ¡®bullets¡¯ had also dislodged the skeleton parts that were embedded in the wall, which quickly reassembled themselves into¡ª [Chakra], [Chakra], [Chakra], ¡­ Then, for a final fanfare at this hellish parade, some of the Footmen and Archers got together and grabbed themselves sets of skeleton wheels to form¡ª [Pishacha Charioteer], [Pishacha Charioteer], [Pishacha Charioteer], ¡­ Before all was said and done, the entire arena played host to a veritable legion of Huskbound soldiers, all ready to lay down their souls to crush a pair of woefully underpowered challengers. This¡ªat last¡ªwas the shape of an Immortal tyrant¡¯s ¡®greater plan¡¯, presented in Bone, if not in Flesh. This¡­ was how the Bone Lord intended to raise hell. ¡°Oh, fuck me,¡± Zacko muttered softly. ¡°Oh, heaven forsake me!¡± Serac cried out in dismay, feeling unusually pious all of a sudden. ¡°Well? What do we now? Do we stick to the plan? Is there even a point to¡ª¡± Serac quickly found out that she had no choice in the matter. When an entire Huskbound army came for you at once, all you really could do was dodge, run, and pray. And even that couldn¡¯t get you very far. The Ossuary¡¯s Inner Sanctum soon became a true hell of its own kind, filled with flying haymakers and grinding skeleton wheels. Amidst it all, the Wayfarers dodged, ran, and occasionally blocked, as best they could. They were constantly one slip-up away from being overwhelmed, and not a soul in the room would lend an ear to their prayers. At some point, Serac ran out of Stamina. It¡¯d only been a matter of time, given her [Overburdened] penalty and the sheer number of threats she had to react to. After that, one stray arrow from who-the-hell-knew-where was enough to Poise-break her, leaving her at the mercy of a whole army¡¯s worth of critical damage. Zacko, being the knight in Fiend-skin armor that he was, rushed to Serac¡¯s aid, only to eat several arrows of his own. He too fell to his knees, with just a sliver of HP left, having no choice but to meet his fate alongside his gunslinging partner. The army closed in to deal the finishing blow. And then¡­ they stopped. Footmen lowered their fists. Archers stowed away their bows. Charioteers called their vehicles to a halt. And they all bowed their heads in unison¡ªin reverence. Even if she weren¡¯t Poise-broken, it would¡¯ve taken a dumbfounded Serac several moments to react. She couldn¡¯t understand why the fighting had stopped. Was this yet another intervention from her mysterious ¡®third entity¡¯? But how could that be, when this army was clearly under the firm command of another? Then, as she recovered from her daze, she became aware of one other element to this massive clusterfuck of a fight. An element that was always right in front of her eyes¡ªyet also had the tendency to get lost in the shuffle. The pale-gray bar of the [Ossify] gauge ticked upwards, ever closer to completion. Welp. Even if these Pishachas won¡¯t finish us off, the [Ossify] surely will. Funny that we made it all the way here without once turning into Bone Husks, but¡­ I guess there¡¯s a first time to everything. But something didn¡¯t feel right. In fact, something felt very, very wrong about the picture. And as a hitherto unfathomable reality dawned on her, Serac abruptly lost any bit of Zen she had left. ¡°Serac Edin!¡± Trippy yelled out in obvious alarm, evidently having come to the same horrifying realization. ¡°You must not let [Ossify] complete in your current state! I sense there¡¯s¡­ there¡¯s another interaction at play, one that we must avoid at all costs!¡± Even as Trippy voiced his incomplete warning, a new message flickered onto Serac¡¯s consciousness. It carried with it something akin to an answer¡ªan answer to a riddle that had niggled at the back of her mind, ever since she¡¯d unwittingly sworn her First Pledge. [Wayfarer Status Effect: ENLISTED -> ¡­] Eyes wide and Poise recovered, Serac looked up sharply towards the ceiling. There, a giant skull-face met her gaze. Then its rows of onyx teeth drifted up into an unmistakable smile. A smile of compassion. Of camaraderie. Of a benevolent ruler welcoming another into his shroud. ¡°No!¡± Serac raised REVOLVER and pointed its barrel at her new target: Zacarias Borges-Juventus. She shot the Manusya in the face (sorry!) and waited to see his HP bar deplete, before turning the gun onto herself. 63. Levels of Bullshit 63. Levels of Bullshit Serac shot to her feet as soon as she reconstituted, hand already reaching for REVOLVER. She¡¯d half-expected to wake up in the middle of a raging dust-storm, and was ready to ¡®defend herself¡¯ again, should the need arise. To her relief, the room was quiet¡ªand unchanged since the battle against the Maidens. The door to the Inner Sanctum remained ajar, but the lack of ksshhh-ing wheels or thudding footsteps indicated that the Pishacha army had gone back to sleep. ¡°Yeah, I already took a peek and checked,¡± Zacko suddenly spoke from behind Serac, causing her to jump in startlement. ¡°Throne room is pretty much back to looking the way it did when we first walked in. I¡¯d guess that RELIQUARY thing is a bitch to move around, and I don¡¯t blame the Bone Lord for not wanting to bother.¡± ¡°That,¡± Serac panted, massaging herself to calm her beating heart, ¡°and he¡¯s counting on us going back for him anyway. Which¡ªlet¡¯s face it¡ªwe are.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± Zacko agreed with a thoughtful frown. ¡°I suppose so, but we¡¯re gonna need a better plan than just trying to survive for as long as we can.¡± ¡°And whose idea was that in the first place?¡± ¡°Mine. But that was before I found out the boss could sic an entire army on us. And before you decided the best way to counter that was to shoot ourselves in the face. Literally.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Serac mumbled sheepishly. ¡°Sorry about that. But I had a really good reason to do it!¡± ¡°And I believe you. What did you¡ªand I assume Trippy¡ªfigure out there near the end? I don¡¯t know what it is, but you seem to have a sixth sense for these¡ªwhat should we call it?¡ªhidden mechanics.¡± Serac took a moment to compose her answer. Like Zacko had already alluded to, it wasn¡¯t something she could state in clear, logical terms. But while her understanding of this ¡®hidden mechanic¡¯ was rather vague, she was nevertheless absolutely certain of its existence. ¡°All this time, I found it really weird how [Enlisted] was barely an inconvenience,¡± she tried her best to explain. ¡°Like, it shows up on Pathsight in big bold letters as a ¡®negative¡¯ status effect. You¡¯d think it¡¯d do a little more than occasionally make us have these intrusive thoughts about joining the Bone Lord¡¯s army. If anything, it helped more than hindered us, especially during the Maiden fight.¡± A sly look came over Zacko then, and he nodded slowly as he chimed in, ¡°I think I see where this is going. [Enlisted] on its own doesn¡¯t seem to do much more than make us more sensitive¡ªor maybe the better word is receptive¡ªto the Bone Lord¡¯s magic, but¡­¡± ¡°But when combined with the full effects of [Ossify]¡±¡ªSerac returned the nod¡ª¡°it finally fulfills its true purpose. That dog-and-pony show we went through with the Pledges¡­ that was us unknowingly priming the magic¡ªby entering a sort of implicit agreement with the Bone Lord.¡± ¡°And if we were to turn into one of those Bone Husks, we¡¯d be finalizing the contract,¡± Zacko muttered with a hint of rising anger. ¡°We¡¯ve already entered the Bone Lord¡¯s shroud. Repeatedly and of our own volition. Stay in it long enough, and we¡¯d leave behind our likeness, encased in Bone. And that¡¯d make our [Enlistment] a permanent arrangement. Forget intrusive thoughts; we will have joined this damned army¡ªand voluntarily at that, at least according to Skeleton Creep¡¯s twisted logic.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll bet you that¡¯s what he does with all the people he calls his ¡®vassals¡¯,¡± Serac piled on, herself now fuming. ¡°The Rakshasas that made up Hanuman. The children in [the Sanctuary]. Even¡­ even the Maidens. I¡¯ll bet you he tricked Sundara and Meetra somehow; got them to swear Pledges without meaning to, then¡­¡± Serac trailed off. Once again, she subconsciously touched the raised imprint of a bloodstone cameo upon her chest. She looked to Zacko for reassurance, only to find a rueful yet knowing sort of smile. ¡°I might not have seen eye to eye with those girls,¡± he spoke gently, seeming to make an effort to soften the blow, ¡°but even I gotta give them credit for being straight badasses. And that also means I respect them enough to give them the benefit of the doubt¡ªthat whatever Path they decided to take, no matter the kind of fucked up shit it led them to, they did it because they truly believed in it.¡± Serac acknowledged this with a heavy-hearted sigh. As much as she wanted to believe that her fellow Rakshasas wouldn¡¯t willingly champion a tyrant¡¯s reign of terror, she also knew it to be wishful thinking. And Zacko was right; it was disrespectful to the Maidens themselves. Essential to being a freesoul was the freedom to choose¡ªeven if that choice led to killing innocents or turning your back on your own family. Serac would and did whole-heartedly condemn such a choice, but she could never discount it. In a Realm full of souls punished for unknowable causes, Sundara and Meetra had reclaimed and owned their own sins. They¡¯d lived and died by those sins, and that was something no one could take away from them, for better or for worse. Indeed, one of them had even left behind a physical relic of that sin¡ªand in a manner that directly and heavily weighed upon a fledgling Wayfarer. But¡­ one problem at a time. Before the Wayfarer could hope to continue her journey, she first had a Realm Immortal to smite. ¡°So, you got any bright ideas, then?¡± She turned to her partner, though not with much optimism. ¡°Something a little more viable than just don¡¯t get hit?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°What we¡¯ve got is a classic case of¡ªactually no, this isn¡¯t classic at all.¡± Both of Zacko¡¯s eyebrows were dead flat, which meant the man meant business. ¡°Not only does this boss pump out an ungodly number of adds¡ªand pretty strong ones, at that¡ªhe¡¯s also set a hard time limit with what would essentially result in permadeath. Man, this is a level of bullshit I haven¡¯t seen even in Manesfera. Are we sure we¡¯re still in Naraka? This guy¡¯s meant to be the ¡®lowliest¡¯ of the Realm Immortals?¡± ¡°We have a way out of that ¡®permadeath¡¯, don¡¯t we? Even though it¡¯s really unpleasant.¡± ¡°Unpleasant, and also really costly. What Karma were you on before we went in¡ªlike, almost 20 thousand? Worst comes to worst, you¡¯ll have to give that up, but we¡¯d want to avoid that as much as possible. Otherwise, you won¡¯t hear the end of it from Trippy.¡± ¡°This time, we have to be in it to win it,¡± Serac agreed, though not with much conviction. ¡°Which feels ridiculous to say, considering we didn¡¯t even manage to get one hit on the Bone Lord.¡± ¡°We need a way to remove or at least crowd-control the adds, just so we have a chance to actually do some damage¡­¡± Zacko¡¯s face didn¡¯t show it, but the speed and ferocity with which he now rubbed his beard made his frustrations apparent. ¡°You don¡¯t happen to be a necromancer by any chance, do you? Or know any spells to charm the enemy? An undead army of our own would be so useful right about now.¡± Serac shook her head wistfully. An army of their own would be the silver bullet the Wayfarers needed. But alas, in their current situation, that fantasy couldn¡¯t be further from¡ª ¡°Wait just a Ksana!¡± Serac suddenly exclaimed, startling even herself. ¡°Maybe we do have our own army! I have no idea if this would work, but it¡¯s got to be at least worth a try.¡± Zacko looked at her like she¡¯d grown a third horn in the middle of her forehead. Then, his eyes widened a touch with realization. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡ª?¡± ¡°The skeletons at the gate!¡± Serac shouted, swelling with unearned optimism. ¡°They think I¡¯m their ¡®King¡¯ or something, right? Maybe that means they¡¯ll listen to my commands!¡± Zacko frowned with abundant skepticism. ¡°Look, I know I said the afterlife works in mysterious ways, but this is a little out there, even for me. Besides, the front door¡¯s locked, remember? Even if the skeletons do somehow cooperate, how will we let them in?¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be much of an army if it couldn¡¯t knock down one measly door!¡± Serac¡¯s volume rose, even as all rational thought fell by the wayside. ¡°Come on! We won¡¯t know until we try!¡± Serac burst out of the room and bounded down the stairs. Zacko reluctantly followed. The entrance at the bottom of the Ossuary was as tightly shut as ever. That didn¡¯t dampen Serac¡¯s enthusiasm one bit as she pushed one ear against the seam and listened. The world just outside the Ossuary was¡­ as quiet as a graveyard. Why had Serac expected any different? But even if she couldn¡¯t see or hear anything, she knew she could count on at least one constant. ¡°Ash?¡± she called out, as loud as she could. ¡°Are you there? Can you hear me?¡± A moment¡¯s silence. Then¡ª Crreeeaaaakkkkk¡­!! An enthusiastic ¡®yes¡¯ in castle-speak, loud enough to match the Steed¡¯s master. Serac¡¯s heart instantly filled with hitherto unknown warmth. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you, buddy! You were a good castle and waited, just like I asked! Now, those skeleton soldiers that tried to attack us earlier¡­ they didn¡¯t give you any trouble afterwards, did they?¡± Grraaawwww¡­ That was a ¡®no¡¯. So far so good. ¡°Are they still¡­ you know, around? Up and about? Lined up and ready to go?¡± Crreeeaaaakkkkk¡­ ¡°Excellent, excellent. Can you, uh, see if you can direct them into this building? I dunno, maybe¡­ try bashing into it a few times. Lead by example. But be careful not to hurt yourself!¡± A moment¡¯s silence. Then¡ª Brraahhmm!! The whole staircase shook as Ashvanaga¡¯s full weight crashed into the structure. It was doing it! Leading by example! A living castle¡ªeven a stripped-down version¡ªwas much too large to fit into the doorframe, but at least it could bash the side of the building¡­ ¡­ And, with any luck, inspire a skeleton army into action. It was after the third such impact that a new set of noises joined Ash¡¯s solitary siege. The clickety-clack of at least a hundred pairs of marching feet. The grating and gnashing of skeletal joints and the weapons they brandished. And the unmistakable crackling of the Infernal flames that burned within the skeletons¡¯ hollow frames. Bang! Smash! Wham! Now, it was the door itself that shuddered in earnest, buckling under the weight of a besieging army. The seam remained shut¡­ but for how long? ¡°Holy crap!¡± Zacko remarked, along with a disbelieving chuckle. ¡°You know, my mama always used to say: fight fire with fire. But this? This is more like fighting bullshit with bullshit!¡± ¡°Well, keep up the bullshit, boys!¡± Serac cheered into the door. ¡°We¡¯re gonna show the Bone Lord that there are levels to this thing!¡± Then came a particularly hefty knock. The seam finally parted, but only just a crack, before whatever force that wanted to keep the door closed held firm. From this crack emerged one bony finger, wriggling and struggling to find purchase. ¡°Hurry!¡± Serac yelled as she stood to one side and tried to claw her own fingers into the seam. ¡°We gotta help them out!¡± Zacko mirrored her movement on the other side, and together, the Wayfarers tried their darnedest to act as a wedge. Serac in particular squeezed her [Substance 7] muscles for all they were worth, trembling all over with the effort. All the while, the army at the gate never stopped their siege, banging and smashing with ever more strength and numbers. The crack widened into a gap, just enough for the Wayfarers to grab hold and pull in earnest. Then the finger became a whole hand, then two, then a skull face that squeezed through the opening¡ªwith its hollow yet blazing eyes blackened by Penitence and thirsting for redemption. 64. Hell Rises Up 64. Hell Rises Up Serac and Zacko pulled and pulled, as a skeleton horde streamed into the Ossuary. The Ossuary did its utmost to pull back the other way, but at some point, the combined force of the rushing soldiers won out, helping to keep the door ajar. Somewhere off to the side, Ash continued to brraahhmm into the side of the building, as if trying to cheer on the army in its own way. The last of the soldiers squeezed through, and the Wayfarers let go at the same time. The door slammed shut with an almost petulant thud, no doubt fuming at the violation of its agency. But all it achieved was to trap a whole skeleton army on the right side of Serac¡¯s ability to command them. Except¡­ she didn¡¯t know how. The door closing shut also appeared to have turned off whatever ¡®magic¡¯ had rallied the soldiers in the first place. Now, they milled about the Ossuary¡¯s foyer with weapons raised and nothing for them to sink into¡ªa rebellious horde without a cause. Some of the soldiers turned to Serac with their darkly burning eyes. And for all her bluster about leading an army, she reacted to this simple interaction with disproportionate fragility. [Wayfarer Status Effect: FEAR] [TRIBULATION active (x4): current buff at 20%] There was something different about this group of undead fighters. Something that set them apart from ghosts, Huskbound statues, or even the Bone Lord himself. A deep-rooted grudge¡ªand the undying need to punish those responsible. It was enough to inspire [Fear] in anyone who wasn¡¯t prepared to meet them halfway. And why would any army follow a commander who was afraid of them? The presence of [Fear] within Serac¡¯s soul acted as another trigger. The skeleton soldiers once again moved as a connected unit, as their weapons found something fleshy and cinnabar-skinned to sink into. ¡°This isn¡¯t good, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy stated the obvious as the soldiers clicked and clacked their way towards Serac. ¡°You must find your voice again¡ªthe same one you used to quell this lot earlier.¡± ¡°It¡¯s really not that simple!¡± Serac whined, even as she readied her instruments for defense. What had seemed like a fun, wacky idea a moment ago had just as quickly devolved into disaster. ¡°That ¡®voice¡¯ has a mind of its own. It¡¯s not something I can just call on at will.¡± ¡°Then you¡¯ll have to work at it, just like you would with any other aspect of your skillset. Here¡­ I believe I know how I can be of assistance.¡± ¡°Ow, ow, ow!¡± Serac winced, both physically and verbally, as an electric shock shot through her skull. The impulse then settled as a raging fire, one that scorched a band-form area around her right temple. The pain had gone beyond eerily familiar into something entirely novel and terrifying in its own right. Yet, ironically enough, it was this nosedive into unfamiliar territory that woke in Serac a long-dormant memory. The pain¡ªits location, its intensity, its necessity and the pride it engendered¡ªgrounded Serac in her otherwise transcendent reality. ¡®Heavy is the head that wears the crown¡¯? Pfft. Hurts like a mother is more like it! ¡°Ludicrous!¡± Serac/Not suddenly bellowed. The word came out as a non sequitur, as if it¡¯d been in response to a conversation that had taken place at a different place and in another time. But all present in the foyer stopped what they were doing and listened, all the same. ¡°Childish, churlish, and downright buffoonish!¡± she continued her tirade, spinning about the place to glare at the totality of her audience. ¡°Do you not tire of this farce? Are you not ashamed by your obsession with the petty and the inconsequential? When there are bigger fish to fry and famous heads to scalp?¡± Yeah, you tell ¡¯em, King! Shame is always the best motivator. If the soldiers hadn¡¯t been motivated yet, they were at the very least captivated, with their eyes now burning with anticipation. Serac/Not took this opportunity to raise her REVOLVER, pointing it up into the mezzanine. ¡°Beyond that door awaits an all-too-familiar foe,¡± she continued, her voice boiling over, along with her own battle-fever. ¡°A pretender who sits upon a throne of false relics. Even now, he makes a mockery of our war and our sacrifice. And I for one will not let such insolence stand! Join me, my friends, and let us together plunge this fool into the darkest pits of hell where he belongs!¡± ¡°Yeeaaahhhh!¡± That roar of approval had issued from the intact vocal cords of someone who was very much not-undead¡ªand so unexpected that it nearly threw Serac out of her transcendent state. It¡¯d of course been uttered by Zacko, who pumped his own fist into the air for emphasis. The Manusya was far from the only one to be inspired by the impromptu speech. The foyer filled with an eerily passionate clamor¡ªthe symphonic clickety-clack of skeletons raising their weapons towards and against a common enemy.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Zacko led the way this time, skipping up the stairs, three steps at a time. The soldiers followed, somehow knowing to organize themselves into two groups to maintain the flow of traffic. Serac brought up the rear, shaking her head at the absolute lunacy that unfolded before her. [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] As her [Fear] faded, Serac could also feel the presence of her ¡®third entity¡¯ recede. In its place, however, the one-sided headache throbbed anew, as if to remind Serac that she wasn¡¯t out of the woods¡ªas if to say: I¡¯m keeping an eye on you until this thing is over. The pain and the voice. The voice and Serac¡¯s ability to speak to souls on a deeper level, evoking memories that should¡¯ve been long lost to the passing of Kalpas. As much as the ¡®otherness¡¯ within herself disturbed Serac, she also couldn¡¯t deny its value¡ªnor its timeliness. One thing no one could take away from her was her pain tolerance, forged from years of ceaseless torture. She¡¯d gladly lean into that hard-earned ¡®perk¡¯ now, as she gritted her teeth and pushed through her throng of skeleton soldiers, desperate to get out in front. For she recalled what the Bone Lord had said earlier. What kind of a king would I be if I didn¡¯t lead my battles from the front? If she were to dethrone a pretender, she had to at least match him in principles of leadership. Thus, after much pushing and shoving, Serac managed to barge into the throne room at the front of her army. She did so shoulder-to-shoulder with her Manusya general, and the two of them ran on ahead to give their soldiers the space to assemble. By then, the Bone Lord had slunk his way back inside Dashi¡¯s body. The boy was conscious again, leaning forward from his throne to inspect an invading army. Dashi no longer wore his welcoming, excitable smile. Neither could the emotion that now darkened his youthful face be described as worry, confusion, nor anything else Serac might¡¯ve expected. Instead, she was rather surprised to see anger. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± the boy¡¯s protest echoed throughout the spire. ¡°How is this possible?¡± Serac shrugged, more to mask a painful wince than as a show of nonchalance. ¡°We¡¯re Wayfarers,¡± she said by way of non-answer. ¡°When we get stuck, we find a way to push forward. That¡¯s what we do.¡± ¡°No!¡± The ¡®pretender¡¯ shouted in a child¡¯s high-pitched whine. The boy¡¯s otherwise sweet face contorted into an ugly grimace, the sight of which only fueled Serac¡¯s own anger. Oh, I¡¯m going to drag you out of Dashi if it¡¯s the last thing I do. ¡°I care naught about your pathetic excuse for an army!¡± the pretender continued, then he pointed an accusatory finger at Serac. ¡°I asked about you and your trickery! How is it that you¡ªhe¡­! That presence I felt at the gate earlier¡­ Do you mean to tell me it was real? And that, somehow, you were its source?¡± Serac stared back blankly. Then she looked to Zacko, who only shrugged with an equally blank expression. Through it all, Trippy too remained silent. Nothing to offer¡ªor keeping the answers close to his chest? It was becoming harder and harder to tell. Above them, the pretender let out a mirthless laugh, one of disgust rather than good humor. ¡°Your lowly soul cannot even comprehend the greatness with which you¡¯ve been graced,¡± he muttered, almost to himself. Then he shouted to be heard, ¡°No matter! Use your tricks, raise your armies, ¡®unstick¡¯ yourselves as often as you¡¯d like. I will crush you like the insects you are, each and every time¡ªuntil nothing of your worthless selves remain!¡± ¡°Now, that¡¯s more like it!¡± Zacko shouted back, his sardonic grin in full bloom. ¡°None of this ¡®prove this¡¯ ¡®pledge that¡¯ crap. Let¡¯s just go for each other¡¯s jugulars like we were always meant to!¡± Serac¡¯s headache was too severe for her to come up with a quippy taunt¡ªnot that she particularly cared to. Instead, she focused on the enemy, trying to gather clues she might have missed on the first go-around. Dashi¡¯s body went limp, in a clear sign that the Bone Lord¡¯s ¡®essence¡¯ had transferred onto RELIQUARY. This was the first clue, which seemed to suggest that the Bone Lord was incapable of imposing his presence or activating his magic without a vessel for him to occupy. Now, whether this clue could help the Wayfarers at all still remained to be seen. [Wayfarer Status Effect: OSSIFY] [TRIBULATION active (x4): current buff at 20%] Next came the awakening of the Pishacha army. Like last time, the skeletal colossus that was the Bone Lord¡¯s ¡®RELIQUARY form¡¯ threw out dust pellets that shot towards the statues lining the circular wall. But this time, Serac kept her eyes on the enemy. The enemy¡ªand not all the other bullshit he¡¯d conjured around him. And with that renewed focus, she finally noticed a detail that should¡¯ve been obvious the first time. The Bone Lord, like all good bosses, had himself an HP bar. A massive one at that to fit his size and stature, but interestingly enough, it wasn¡¯t full. The fight had barely started, and neither Serac nor Zacko had landed a hit on the skeleton in the sky. Yet, the HP bar was already missing a small chunk. And it continued to oscillate, draining and refilling in turn as his legion of minions ksshhh¡¯d and thudded to life. Serac Edin, being something of a self-damager herself, immediately understood what was happening. What had Trippy Version 1 said¡ªso long ago now that it felt like another lifetime? Every Instrument is tied to a unique resource type, and REVOLVER¡¯s happens to be Cartridge. Well, it appeared that RELIQUARY¡¯s proprietary resource was none other than the Bone Lord¡¯s own HP pool. He certainly had a lot of it to suit his needs, but as long as a resource needed to be spent, it was also susceptible to depletion. So, it turns out Zacko actually wasn¡¯t far off with his first idea. Survive at all costs. Dodge all of the boss¡¯s mechanics and wait him out until he spent himself to death. That might have been a viable strategy, if it weren¡¯t for the pesky [Ossify] cloud that acted as a time limit for the Wayfarers. In a way, the two ¡®bars¡¯ that demanded Serac¡¯s attention¡ªher [Ossify] gauge and the Bone Lord¡¯s HP¡ªwere like hourglasses on opposing sides. Except Serac¡¯s ¡®drained¡¯ in reverse, and the Bone Lord¡¯s could apparently move in both directions. Well then, this is looking to be another race. A race to see which one of us can drain the other¡¯s hourglass faster. Serac¡¯s conscious reframing of the whole fight gave rise to another surge of confidence. But whether this one was earned or not still remained to be seen. In either case, it gave Serac the push she needed to find her voice anew. ¡°After me, warriors!¡± She raised REVOLVER into the air but stopped short of firing it. No sense in wasting Chamber One, even if it was for a quippy rallying cry. ¡°And set ablaze your flames of vengeance! Let us lay these haunted souls to rest¡­ with a final cremation.¡± 65. Hell Freezes Over 65. Hell Freezes Over With adds of her own to draw the heat, Serac was finally free to go on the offensive. And she knew exactly how she wanted to open the fight. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [192!] The bullet flew across the arena, leaving behind a swirling contrail of Infernal flames. It didn¡¯t find a target, but that hadn¡¯t been the aim. What Serac needed was for it to consume as much of the [Ossify] dust as possible. The contrail exploded outward in a chain reaction of fire feeding on particulate fuel. Serac had combined what she¡¯d learned from the Charioteer and Maiden fights, trusting that her [Catharsis] would blast out a large vacuum untouched by the Bone Lord¡¯s magic. It worked. And into this dust-free zone stormed her general and soldiers. The effect, while temporary, helped to slow the Wayfarers¡¯ [Ossify] build-up to a crawl. It also served to cripple the Pishacha army who, for all their numbers, still relied on bone dust to enable their spells. Zacko led the way, masked up with VISAGE¡¯s [Dreamer] aspect. Two seconds for Footmen and one second for Archers. That was all the channeling time he needed to Poise-break each individual Pishacha, before leaving them for Serac¡¯s [Accursed] soldiers to finish off. The man had already mathed out the Karma exchange and assured Serac that the books still balanced out in his favor. He didn¡¯t show his work, however, so she could only take him at his word. It was a good thing, then, that the Pishachas gave out Karma like candy. The ksshhh-ing Chariots required a bit more finesse. A pair of soldiers to sabotage the Chakra wheels, while Zacko jumped on board and took down the Charioteers themselves. The Manusya buzzed about the arena like a worker bee, using the trips between targets to keep himself Stamina-replete. Serac was thankful for his effort. For it allowed her [Overburdened] self to camp in the center of the room and act as a Rakshasa turret. She took her time to choose her targets, because A) every squeeze of the trigger was a real drain on her Stamina and B) with so many allies fighting on her side, she wanted to avoid doubling up on the same enemy. Wily Archers who¡¯d stayed back in the fringes. Poise-broken Footmen who¡¯d escaped the [Accursed]¡¯s notice. Those were the kinds of Pishachas who were ripe for Serac¡¯s picking. An undead blitzkrieg, spearheaded by a laughing punching kicking headbutting Buddha. A ¡®sniper¡¯ with a six-shooter who picked her spots with patience and precision. It was a potent combination. By the time Serac cycled through two cylinders¡¯ worth of Cartridge, there were so many casualties on both sides that it was hard to tell how much of the dust that whipped about the place was Bone and how much of it was Soul. Some of her [Accursed] soldiers had gone down swinging (rest in peace), but the Pishacha army too had thinned to a much more manageable size. And that was her cue to turn her attention back onto the Bone Lord and his fluctuant health pool. Come on, Mr Skelly, let¡¯s see how well you optimize your resources! A dip into the jar that was RELIQUARY. A giant, skeletal hand that once more scattered dust pellets throughout the room, with some shooting into the wall to call down more Pishachas and Chakras, while others reconstituted the ones on the ground who¡¯d yet to dissolve completely. Serac watched it all happen via her peripheries, with her main vision focused on the big honcho himself. The opening seconds of the fight had already reduced the Bone Lord¡¯s mammoth HP bar by about a quarter, with neither Wayfarer having had to land a direct hit. This latest ¡®reassembly¡¯ of his army kicked off another round of decrementation, with the hourglass draining faster than it could fill back up. Instinct, rather than calculation, told Serac that this maneuver would cost the Bone Lord another quarter of health, to eventually bring him down to half. Then the quickest math she¡¯d ever mathed told her that the books balanced out in her favor. She had the MP to cast and the HP to tank exactly three more instances of [Catharsis]. If the current pattern were to hold, she should at least win out in a war of attrition. Therefore, the fight proper should come down to figuring out how to damage the Bone Lord on top of his self-inflicted harm, thereby winning the race between two hourglasses. But she also knew that her ideal scenario contained too many unfounded ¡®shoulds¡¯. And she wasn¡¯t surprised to see that the Realm Immortal already had a mind to break from the pattern. The Bone Lord stuck both hands into RELIQUARY, then flung them upwards in a violent flourish. The whole spire darkened, as its ¡®sky¡¯ filled with a dense sheet of onyx-colored arrows, which then scattered and flew down at speed. A ¡®rainstorm¡¯ to match [Ossify]¡¯s ¡®cloud¡¯. It ravaged the battlefield, indiscriminate of friend or foe, piercing the bodies of dueling Pishachas and [Accursed] soldiers alike. And before Serac could fire off her dust-clearing shot of [Catharsis], she was forced to defend herself first. If she trusted her instincts enough, she might have tried to read the flight of the arrows and find a ¡®safe spot¡¯ to stand in. But too much was riding on this second bite at the boss, and she made the split-Ksana decision to make another resource trade-off: a chunk of her HP for her ability to simply stay in the fight. She stuck her left arm into the air, PULVERIZER up, then ducked under its shadow, making herself even smaller than usual. With her elbow joint freed up, she was able to contort and roll herself into a veritable ball. [35!], [35!], [35!] -> [105!]Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Three hits, all mitigated, and no Poise-break. It was about the best outcome Serac could¡¯ve hoped for. She¡¯d lost some HP but still had enough to follow through with her original plan. She jumped back to her feet to do just that, with REVOLVER already primed on a full cylinder. [Chamber One: Catharsis] [192!] The rain of arrows had left the air even thicker with dust. Which, in this case, meant more kindling for Serac¡¯s Infernal flames to feed upon. The resultant explosion was even bigger than the first, and her [Accursed] survivors took full advantage, taking to their now one-sided duels with gusto. Zacko too went right back to target-hopping, looking no worse for wear after the change in weather. His movement in turn helped guide the destinations of Serac¡¯s unimbued bullets. She emptied the third cylinder into a trail of Poise-broken statues left in the NINEFOLD master¡¯s wake. The Wayfarers were ruthless. Their army was resilient. Even after the boss¡¯s big burst of AOE damage, the challengers quickly found their footing again, converting their resources into smites at maximum efficiency. If anything, it was the Bone Lord himself who¡¯d taken a beating. His latest attack had been as ¡®expensive¡¯ as it appeared, having taken with it a large enough chunk of HP to shave the bar past its halfway point. While the Wayfarers sought a way to deal extra damage, their enemy had kindly served up the solution on an onyx platter. From where Serac stood (she hadn¡¯t moved an inch since the fight had started), she was willing to conclude that the good guys had ¡®won¡¯ the preceding trade. Now, if they could just win a couple more¡ª ¡°In days of yore, battles¡ªeven large-scale ones¡ªwere often decided by individuals rather than armies,¡± the Bone Lord¡¯s contrabass suddenly rumbled from above. Serac had been too distracted to pay attention, but she did manage to catch the latter half of the mid-fight taunt, ¡°A contest between champions, chosen and touted by their peers as the best among them. I now give you leave, Wayfarers, to choose your champions. I, of course, nominate myself!¡± With that, the skeletal colossus thrust a fist into RELIQUARY with so much force that it looked as though he might smash the urn to pieces. The resultant impact gave rise to a high-speed, high-pitched screech that split ears and rattled the very air. It was an oddly mechanical and almost sterile sound, the likes of which a hell bumpkin like Serac had no reference for. Without seeing or knowing what was happening, she could nevertheless picture it well enough. Piles of Bone¡ªboth ancient and new¡ªbeing sawed and ground into fresh dust. The headache in her right temple flared anew, more urgently than ever. At the same time, a chill raced down her spine, containing with it a vague yet dire warning of what was about to come. She couldn¡¯t know, but she could feel the impending disaster¡ªdeep within her own bones. ¡°Zacko! Get behind me, right now!¡± She bellowed at the top of her lungs, which instantly filled with dust. Her bloodshot eyes bulged and her cinnabar face purpled as she fought down a coughing fit. She needed to focus. Trade bodily comfort for her ability to stay in the fight. Zacko, to his credit, had responded with the alacrity the situation demanded. He ducked behind Serac¡¯s scrawny frame, as though he too had sensed the need to protect himself, then, by way of signal, gave her a tap on the back. As soon as she felt his touch, she pointed REVOLVER straight ahead and¡ª [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [192!] Not a moment too soon. The mechanical screeching ceased abruptly. In the same Ksana, the storm that raged from and within RELIQUARY all but vanished¡ªcondensed into a minuscule, roiling ball of energy¡ªbefore expanding again to fill the entire spire. Tremendous waves of [Ossification] exploded from the center, immobilizing in an instant all caught in their paths. The black flames of [Catharsis] went up to meet the waves, but this time, the Bone dust that should¡¯ve been its kindling was too cold to catch fire. Instead, Serac¡¯s fire and the Bone Lord¡¯s ice canceled each other out, producing a vortex of steam that enveloped the Wayfarers within its freezing heat. [23!], [19!], [26!], [21!], [24!], [22!] -> [135!] Six ticks of ¡®frostburn¡¯ damage. It was more HP loss Serac hadn¡¯t planned on. Even accounting for the passive healing from [Lesser Regen], she was now below the threshold where she could realistically tank another cast of [Catharsis]. Less than ideal, but it¡¯d also allowed her and Zacko to neutralize the worst of the [Ossify] nuke. And looking around, it was easy to see what would¡¯ve happened to them without the protection from the steam explosion. What had been a raging battle only a moment ago had turned into a museum. The room was now chock full of statues, both of the Pishacha and Accursed varieties. Many of them had been encased with their weapons still raised mid-swing. The Bone Lord had frozen the entire arena¡ªincluding his own army¡ªleaving only himself as its final champion. But then¡­ where was this champion himself? Serac first looked up. Gone entirely was the skeletal colossus, leaving only the spire¡¯s wall that tapered towards an unseen apex. She then looked to the throne, where the limp, sleeping body of Dashi remained suspended in air. Finally, she rotated in place to scan the floor, seeking an onyx shadow amidst the pale-gray diorama. Nothing. No sign of the Bone Lord anywhere. The only movement came from RELIQUARY, which continued to puff out more bone dust into the air. ¡°Where is he?¡± Serac demanded of no one in particular. ¡°He made a big show of nominating himself to decide the battle. So why isn¡¯t he here to fight us?¡± ¡°Maybe he¡¯s hiding?¡± Zacko suggested, though with a dubious frown. ¡°Trying to wait us out again?¡± As much as Serac didn¡¯t want to believe it, the possibility carried weight. The [Ossify] cloud had filled the air again, and the Wayfarers¡¯ hourglass had resumed its steady drain. And now, Serac could no longer use [Catharsis] to create a dust-free zone. After all that angry taunting¡­ Weren¡¯t we supposed to go for each other¡¯s jugulars? Is this really how you want to end this, Mr Skelly? Is this how my journey ends? Serac¡¯s feet began to move on their own accord, stumbling about the place aimlessly. All thought of Stamina preservation had gone out the window, replaced by the desperate need to find the gods-damned thing she was supposed to shoot in the face. ¡°Where are you?¡± she screamed, wincing at the pain that flared in her right temple. ¡°Show yourself! Come out and¡ª¡± ¡°Serac! Watch out!¡± She spun towards Zacko¡¯s voice, just in time to see the swinging arc of a pale-gray sword. An Accursed statue she¡¯d just walked past had suddenly moved again, and the soldier now pointed its blade into its own King. And all Serac could think to do was to meet the traitor¡¯s blade with her shield. 66. Tribulation 66. Tribulation She¡¯d reacted too late. Serac managed to partially deflect the attack, but failed to block with the meat of PULVERIZER. The [Accursed]¡¯s sword then struck a glancing blow against the fleshy part of her arm. [54!] The damage in itself was far from the biggest problem. For the first time since the fight had started, Serac had suffered an unmitigated attack. And in her [Overburdened] state, she was too fragile to win the ensuing Poise check. She fell to her knees, Poise-broken. Then, she could only watch as the soldier raised its sword once more, this time to deal a certain killing blow. ¡°Oh no, you don¡¯t!¡± Zacko leapt into the frame, [Lance]-first. The timely intervention forced the sword swing off-course. Not only that, but it also proved powerful enough to crush the would-be executioner into powder, all with one kick. Way to go, Zacko! I owe you one¡­ again. For the moment, Serac could only offer her silent gratitude. Her savior, however, looked puzzled rather than triumphant. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ weird,¡± Zacko muttered, examining the powdery remains of his fallen foe. ¡°I swear, this thing was dead before I landed my kick¡­¡± With her Poise coming back, Serac managed to frown in confusion. She wasn¡¯t quite sure what Zacko meant, but there was something odd about the way this soldier ¡®died¡¯. For one thing, it hadn¡¯t morphed into a cloud of Souldust. Instead, all of it had turned to pale-gray powder, which then fell to the floor under the effects of gravity. Before the Wayfarers could make heads or tails of the mystery, they were interrupted by another attack. Another reanimated statue, this time of the Pishacha variety. The Footman swung a Huskbound fist at Zacko¡¯s head. The NINEFOLD master deftly ducked under it before countering with a palmed [Fan]. Once again, the statue crumbled and fell as dust¡ªBone rather than Soul. Then a third statue came in¡ªanother [Accursed] soldier who tried to cut down Zacko even before he¡¯d reset his stance. Serac got her chance to return the favor, hitting the would-be ambusher with an unimbued bullet (two) right between the eyes. She knew she could damage the ghost-based Aberrant, as her [Enlisted] status and the [Ossify] cloud had again combined to infuse all of her bullets with Infernal energy. In this case, however, the damage type conversion turned out to be irrelevant. For the soldier went limp even before the bullet had made contact. Upon impact, the soulless statue went the way of the others before it, breaking apart into fine pale-gray powder. Now that Serac had experienced it herself, she knew exactly what Zacko had meant. Whatever force had reanimated the statues also deserted them the moment before the Wayfarer¡¯s counterattacks could connect¡ªleaving them as empty vessels that shattered at the slightest provocation. Serac gasped with realization. ¡°The Bone Lord is here!¡± she exclaimed, eyes darting wildly as she scanned for the next threat. ¡°He¡¯s here, he¡¯s there, he¡¯s everywhere. Transferring himself from Husk to Husk.¡± ¡°Well shit. That ain¡¯t good.¡± ¡®Ain¡¯t good¡¯ didn¡¯t quite cut it. The Bone Lord¡¯s latest trick had downright devastating implications for the Wayfarers¡¯ race against the [Ossify] clock. Serac began moving again, with the pale-gray bar weighing heavier on her mind than the green. As she brushed past another statue, it too tried to land a sneak attack. She was ready for it, spinning to meet it with REVOLVER, fired from the hip (three). Once again, the statue collapsed without a fight, with its ¡®occupant¡¯ having no doubt fled to another receptacle. A few steps behind her, another Husk met the same fate by Zacko¡¯s fist. ¡°Uh, Serac? Quick sidebar? Should we maybe come up with a plan?¡± Serac ignored him and picked up the pace, wading into a sea of frozen combatants. There must¡¯ve been upwards of a hundred statues still left over from the earlier brawl. Clearly, the clock would run out on the Wayfarers long before they destroyed every last vessel the Bone Lord could cycle through. Another ambush, this time coming in from her left¡ªPULVERIZER¡ªside. Serac met this half-hearted gambit with extreme prejudice, barely batting an eye as she swept REVOLVER across her chest and fired from the opposite shoulder (four). ¡°Yo, Serac! Are we just gonna¡±¡ªZacko interrupted himself to deal with an ambush of his own¡ª¡°keep doing this? My [Ossify] bar¡¯s about to fill up any minute now, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯re no better off!¡± Serac ignored him. Not because she disagreed with his points. Not because she was out of ideas herself. But simply because she was too angry to speak coherently. Apparently, though, she wasn¡¯t too angry to shout her guts out at the object of her rage. ¡°Hey! Come out and show yourself, you¡­ you Bone Bum!¡± Two more statues came for Serac, even as she unleashed her latest masterpiece of a nickname. She dispatched them with the remaining bullets in the cylinder (five, six), then reached for a fresh set of rounds. The action had been timed to perfection. ¡°You know, it¡¯s really pathetic how you call yourself a king¡±¡ªSerac took her time to reload, savoring the weight of every cartridge as she seated them in their respective chambers¡ª¡°when you¡¯re clearly nothing but a hypocrite. Lead your army from the front, you say? Then do nothing but hover in the sky while your minions did all the work. Nominate yourself as the champion, you say? Then go right back to hiding behind your soldiers!¡± Serac was done reloading. She was also done with stumbling about and searching for shadows¡ªlike the Bone Lord would¡¯ve wanted. Instead, she stood stock-still in the middle of the arena, with both her eyes and her gun pointed in one direction and one direction only. ¡°Come out and face me, coward. And let me show you what it means to be a real king!¡± ¡°Silence!¡± Serac¡¯s own take on a mid-fight taunt had its intended effect. The Husk directly in front of her suddenly moved, though with a much more dramatic flair than its fellows. For one brief moment, the vessel laid its ¡®contents¡¯ bare, taking on the onyx silhouette of a three-horned Rakshasa. It lasted only but a Ksana, but it was enough time for the Bone Lord to throw out his own empowered attack: a giant flying fist that sizzled with a hateful, black aura. It lasted only but a Ksana, but Serac seized the opportunity with extreme prejudice. She twisted away from the incoming projectile and fired her counter at the same time, mid-spin. [Chamber One: BLOOD FOR BLOOD] Combining evasion with attack. The Serac of even a few days ago wouldn¡¯t have dared to so recklessly disregard the principles of marksmanship. But the Serac of this Ksana was just angry and confident enough to try anything.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. [DASHANAN Status Effect: BLEED] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BLEED] [TRIBULATION active (x5): current buff at 25%] From experience, Serac already knew that, at her current max HP of just a shade under a thousand, [Bleed] ticked at five points per second. With [Lesser Regen] counteracting it at only one point per second, she had 30¡ªexactly 30 seconds until she bled to death. And this was assuming A) she didn¡¯t take any more damage, and B) the [Ossify] clock didn¡¯t run out on her first, both of which seemed rather unlikely from where she stood. But she also hoped¡ªno, counted on¡ªher opponent being on an even shorter fuse. ¡°No¡­ this can¡¯t be!¡± A resonant yet pathetic lament shook the air, all but proving the wisdom of Serac¡¯s gamble. ¡°What did you do?¡± One of the Husks in Serac¡¯s vicinity came back to life, once more taking on the appearance of a three-horned Rakshasa. This time, however, the transformation was of a more permanent nature, as the Bone Lord sought to end the fight on his terms. Now that the enemy had shown himself in earnest, it also gave Serac the chance to check his status via Pathsight. The health bar was back, and as ridiculously oversized as ever. But after everything that had happened, it was down to its last tenth¡ªand shrinking rapidly. I knew it! Serac smirked to herself. The higher your max HP, the bigger your [Bleed] tick. Mr Skelly boasts a massive health pool to use his RELIQUARY magic, but that also means he¡¯ll bleed out faster than anyone! The confirmation of what she already knew didn¡¯t faze Serac. What was strange, however, was that the Bone Lord himself had reacted with obvious surprise. He¡¯s the freaking Realm Immortal; shouldn¡¯t he know the ins and outs of the afterlife and how his own magic fits in the picture? And yet¡­ perhaps it was only logical for a king who habitually hid behind his subjects¡ªwho¡¯d never before shed his own blood¡ªto have no knowledge of what it meant to [Bleed]. ¡°I¡¯ll have your head for this!¡± The holes in his knowledge notwithstanding, the false king wasn¡¯t yet ready to surrender. He wound back a skeletal arm, ready to uncoil another of his Infernal missiles. But before he could, he was interrupted by the onrushing figure of another bare-fisted fighter. Zacko leapt towards the Bone Lord, forcing him to check his attack and¡­ hide again. The onyx presence deserted the Husk, upon which the latter crumbled under Zacko¡¯s feet. ¡°Nice one!¡± Serac gave her partner a thumb-up. ¡°Just one more push, Zacko, and we¡¯ve got this!¡± Just one more push. But the same could be said for the enemy, and they all knew it. What would Mr Skelly do in this situation? How would a cowardly pretender make sure he¡¯d have the last laugh? The answer came to Serac in an instant, then speculation became reality an instant later. RELIQUARY whorled anew with raging flames of black-and-white. It was the Bone Lord¡¯s last hurrah, and he marked the occasion in the way he knew best¡ªby relying on his minions. All Husks on the floor¡ªhitherto frozen¡ªstirred and raised their weapons in unison. Every single one, whether of Pishacha or Accursed origin, now sizzled and crackled with an onyx aura¡ªas though each and every last one now channeled a Realm Immortal¡¯s fighting spirit. But Serac knew that couldn¡¯t be true. The Bone Lord simply didn¡¯t have enough HP left to cast such a large-scale spell. No, the flames were only for show. A scare tactic to distract the Wayfarers from the boss¡¯s true location. Well, if the Bone Lord wanted to scare her so much, Serac was more than happy to let him. [Wayfarer Status Effect: FEAR] [TRIBULATION active (x6): current buff at 30% (maximum)] With the seconds draining away from her hourglass, Serac Edin shed every foreign presence from her mind, body, and soul. No crown. No Circlet. No voice. Only her. Only the truest, freest version of her self. And that truest and freest Serac was also something of a coward. She was, after all, a Penitent lifer on top of being a hell bumpkin. For so much of her life, she¡¯d known nothing of the world outside her jail cell. Nothing of what life could offer¡ªother than its trials and tribulations. The Furnace, the Clockwork, the Bed of Thorns. Aviary, Pulverizer, and even the Hanging Fruit. She¡¯d seen, done, and survived them all. For a veteran of torture like her, a handful of status effects was nothing. So what if she was [Enlisted], [Anchored], [Overburdened], [Ossified], [Bleeding], and [Fearful] besides? She¡¯d seen, done, and survived much worse. And she had every intention¡ªevery ambition¡ªto see, do, and survive much worse still. Her Path led only upwards, up and away from the lowly pits of hell. But first, she had a little Immortal problem to take care of. What would Mr Skelly do in this situation? How would a cowardly pretender make sure he had a clean line of sight on an unsuspecting Wayfarer? The answer had been self-evident from the start. Serac pointed her gaze and her gun in the same direction¡ªtowards the far side of the room where an ¡®Archer¡¯ hid amongst a gaggle of much larger bodies. The Archer already had his arrow nocked and ready to loose, but the moment their eyes (and eye sockets) met, he froze in shock. That was all the delay a gunslinger needed. The distance far exceeded REVOLVER¡¯s effective range, and the Serac of even a few seconds ago wouldn¡¯t have dared to reach beyond her grasp. But the Serac of this Ksana was just true and free enough to try anything. [353!] An unimbued bullet, buffed by the totality of Serac¡¯s trials and tribulations. It was far from the biggest hit she¡¯d ever produced, but the gods damn it if it wasn¡¯t the most important one. Not only did it cause the Bone Lord to drop his weapon, it also sent him into a final, panicked tailspin. The illusive flames all around the arena extinguished themselves at once. The Bone Lord had gone into hiding again, yet surely, he was now mere seconds away from bleeding out completely. And for one moment, Serac allowed herself to relax. By all appearances, the job was done. She¡¯d cornered the false king like he was a frightened animal. There was no hope for him. Nowhere for him to run to, or¡ª Serac spun in a wild panic of her own, having come to a horrible realization. In the heat of battle, she¡¯d forgotten all about it. There was one last place for the Bone Lord to seek refuge. Somewhere the Wayfarers couldn¡¯t¡ªwouldn¡¯t¡ªtouch him. From which he could reset the encounter and undo all of the Wayfarers¡¯ work. A vessel with a beating heart, with its own fresh supply of Flesh, Blood, and Bone. A living, breathing sanctuary called¡ª ¡°Dashi!¡± Serac screamed and reached out to no avail. She was still stuck in the middle of the arena, and besides, Dashi himself was¡­ ¡­ Nowhere to be seen. The platform that housed the skeletal throne was now completely empty. No sign of a sleeping boy. Was it too late? Did the Bone Lord reclaim his favorite vessel and whisk him away to some unseen corner of the Ossuary? ¡°I¡¯ve got him, Serac!¡± Serac¡¯s gaze shot towards the sound of Zacko¡¯s voice. The Manusya now stood by the wall, directly underneath the throne. With one arm, he waved enthusiastically at Serac. With the other, he cradled Dashi, who¡¯d woken up from his nap and now stared between the two Wayfarers with round, bewildered eyes. Relief flooded Serac¡¯s chest, and tears blurred her vision. She immediately bit down on a sob and sucked back a sniffle, then bounded towards the wall where Zacko stood. The job wasn¡¯t done. For she¡¯d seen a third figure amidst the confusion, lying prone at Zacko¡¯s feet. It was the Bone Lord himself¡ªor his [Bleeding], fading spirit that had failed to latch onto a vessel. It took the form of a crumbling Rakshasa skeleton, so ancient and so worn as to have lost the shine to its onyx color. And as Serac stepped near with a heavy thud, the third horn in the middle of its head broke off, falling away like a pretender¡¯s false crown. With the last of his strength, the Bone Lord looked up at Serac. His whole skull trembled, and the dying embers within his orbital sockets flickered precariously as he took in the fullness of the soul that had defeated him¡ªand as he stared down the open barrel of a six-shooter. Then, with the last of his strength, the Bone Lord curled his rows of missing onyx teeth into an unmistakable smile. ¡°It is you, isn¡¯t it?¡± His dying voice was but the faint clatter of withered bones. ¡°If I¡¯d recognized you sooner, I might have¡­ made some changes to my ¡®plan¡¯. Perhaps I¡¯ll yet have my chance to make amends. I¡¯ve waited this long¡ªwhat¡¯s another Kalpa or two? Go well, Wayfarer. Hell could never contain the likes of you.¡± Serac squeezed the trigger. 67. Bloodfall 67. Bloodfall [REALM IMMORTAL SMITED] [Waystation Privilege awarded. Current charge: 2] [Ascension Mandate awarded. Ascension status: INELIGIBLE] [24,000 ?] [19,820 ?] [REVOLVER Spell Unlocked] [Chamber One: EMBALMER] [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%] Words scrolled through Serac¡¯s vision before going straight over her head. She was certain they contained useful information and maybe even startling revelations, but right now, she was in no state to take any of it in. ¡°Wayfarer!¡± Trippy¡¯s words sounded clipped¡ªalmost angry. ¡°Set down a Waystation, right now, before the Interstitium lays claim to your Liminal Karma!¡± At least this she could make sense of. With the Bone Lord¡¯s death, she¡¯d been ¡®cured¡¯ of three of her negative status effects (including that pesky [Ossify] bar), but [Bleed] hadn¡¯t been one of them. And even in her exhausted state, she could see that she was literally a few seconds away from dying herself. What would happen to my Karma if I died to a thing that was already dead? She vaguely recalled wondering the same question some time ago, and she supposed she got her answer now. But knowing the absolute urgency of the situation didn¡¯t make it any easier to sit down and meditate, so soon after the most harrowing experience of her life. Forget mental tranquility. Her aching, faltering body couldn¡¯t even be relied upon to bend the correct joints and strike the right pose. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was an impossible task. She just couldn¡¯t do it. Not in her current state, and certainly not within the vanishing seconds that were left to her. Welp. Would¡¯ve been nice if Zacko had the Waystation privilege instead. I guess this is one unforeseen downside to the smiting blow bonus¡­ Speaking of Zacko¡ª ¡°Serac!¡± The Manusya¡¯s pompadour¡ªperfectly combed even after a fight against a Realm Immortal¡ª took up Serac¡¯s entire vision as he grabbed her by both shoulders¡ªa little too firmly for her liking. Ow! Ease off, will you? I¡¯m already hurting everywhere as it is. But at that point, she still didn¡¯t know the half of it. ¡°Serac,¡± Zacko said again with uncharacteristic fervor. By then, he¡¯d already removed VISAGE, revealing an expression that was far too serious and earnest by his usual standards. ¡°Just know that I¡¯m really sorry about this. And Dashi, you might want to look away.¡± Serac stared back with zero comprehension. Sorry about what? Look away from wha¡ªoof! And that was when Zacko buried a NINEFOLD fist in Serac¡¯s stomach¡ªas hard as he would with any Aberrant he wanted to smite. [150!] For a Rakshasa who was quite literally one second away from [Bleeding] out, the damage was more than overkill. And in her dying Ksana, Serac¡¯s mind ran the gamut from shock to confusion to hurt to understanding to¡ªfinally¡ªgratitude. *** Soul. Vapor. Liquid. Solid. Dust. Bone. Blood. Flesh. The tangible. The ever-present. And the unseen spaces in between. When next Serac Edin became aware of a ¡®self¡¯, she had barely enough perception of her surroundings to know that there were no surroundings. Nor really even a self. Instead, an amorphous cloud of something that might pass for consciousness floated within a rushing stream of some invisible and insensible medium. Forget River of Blood. This was something far more viscous, far more turbulent, yet also utterly and hopelessly indefinable. No touch, no sight, no smell. No body, no mind, not even so much as soul. All there was¡ªand all she was¡ªwere memories. The most ancient magic of them all. Yet, within this ceaseless turbulence, Serac was very much aware of an ¡®anchor¡¯ that tethered her to another. Another amorphous cloud. Another entity with a notion of ¡®self¡¯. And she knew this entity well enough to picture his shape where there was none. A male Rakshasa with a rather haughty expression that didn¡¯t quite fit his station. A Narakite that, somehow, seemed to know very little about Naraka. About his own home and his own people¡ªexcept for what he could look up on some imaginary glossary. Trippy? Serac called out with no voice. Is that you? Serac Edin, came the cool, polite reply¡ªjust as voiceless. Forgive my acting out of turn, but I¡¯ve been waiting to do this for some time¡­ and I feel this latest turn of events has forced my hand. What? Serac frowned with no face. What did you do, Trippy? What¡¯s happening to us?This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I¡¯ve invoked my emergency powers as a Special Guidance Protocol, thereby holding us back within the Interstitium. But the effect is only temporary, and you will soon reconstitute in the physical realm. We must talk before that happens. Serac was silent for¡­ a Ksana? A Kalpa? It was impossible to tell. All this time, I thought ¡®Special Guidance Protocol¡¯ was just something you made up, was the first bizarre thought that found voiceless voice. Is it an actual feature of Pathsight? Or a brainchild of the weirdos up in Devalem? Was Version 1 also¡ªum, actually, never mind. We don¡¯t have the time for inane jokes, Wayfarer, came Trippy¡¯s rebuke¡ªperhaps well-deserved. We have several pressing matters to discuss, but in the interest of brevity, I shall narrow it down to one. Namely, your association with one Zacarias Borges-Juventus, which of late has become more hindrance than boon to your quest of climbing Mount Meru. Whatever topic might¡¯ve been urgent enough for Trippy to pull out the big guns of interdimensional magic, Serac hadn¡¯t imagined it to be this. She was left ¡®speechless¡¯ for another indefinable amount of time before she managed to turn up her nonexistent nose. You¡¯re not making any sense, Trippy. You think I could¡¯ve defeated the Bone Lord without Zacko¡¯s help? Or saved Dashi? On the first count, yes. You absolutely are capable of smiting Aberrants and even Realm Immortals on your own. It¡¯s something of a mystery to me that you don¡¯t see that yourself. It also means you stand to gain a lot more Karma on the road if you¡¯d simply stop sharing it with another. Here, the amorphous Trippy-cloud paused. For consideration? For effect? It was impossible to tell. And as to your second question, I don¡¯t see how it¡¯s even relevant to the topic at hand. At this, Serac sucked in a sharp breath with nonexistent lungs. She¡¯d been under no illusion that Trippy had any affection towards the other souls they met on the road. Even so, his callousness¡ªespecially when expressed in such certain terms¡ªwas disconcerting at best and perhaps even hurtful at worst. Well, it matters to me, so it¡¯s actually very relevant. Serac tried and failed to keep her emotions out of it¡ªas Trippy was so good at doing. And to circle back on the first point, sure, maybe I don¡¯t need Zacko, but I just think it¡¯s a lot of fun to have him around. That¡¯s a good enough reason for me. Even when he just committed Karma theft? The absolute worst breach of etiquette in a Wayfaring partnership? What? Come on, man, you can¡¯t seriously believe he did that to screw me over! You said yourself I would¡¯ve lost my Karma to the Interstitium if I didn¡¯t reconstitute in time. Well, now, it¡¯s at least with Zacko, so what are you even complaining about? You realize you will have to kill him to get it back. So? I¡¯ve already done it once, so there¡¯s no reason I can¡¯t do it again. In truth, this was a bit of posturing on Serac¡¯s part. She had killed Zacko once¡ªin an emergency. But she wasn¡¯t at all sure she could bring herself to do it again in much calmer circumstances. Besides, maybe I don¡¯t want it back. Maybe I¡¯m happy to let him keep it. Give him a chance to get on my level, know what I¡¯m saying? Trippy let out the most withering sigh that was possible inside a formless medium. This is exactly the problem, Serac Edin. How do I get you to understand? Sooner or later, your connections to others are going to hold you back. You might not see it yet, this far down in the Mountain where options are plentiful and competition sparse. But mark my words: there will come a time and place where you will need to choose between your friends and your ascension. I only ask that you cast aside those friendships and loyalties now, before they become the Anchor that weighs you down. No. I like being friendly and loyal. And you don¡¯t get to change who I am. This is my journey¡ªnot ¡®yours¡¯¡ªand that means I¡¯m free to go about it any way I¡ªarrggghhhh! The headache caught her completely off guard¡ªnot only because of its intensity, but also because she¡¯d assumed that a headless being couldn¡¯t get headaches. But the sensation was unmistakable. A cold, metallic band just above her right temple. It burned, it chilled, it dug, it filled, it etched, it erased¡ªall in equal and excruciating measure. Serac had been wrong about every other pain in her life. For this was far and away the worst pain she¡¯d ever experienced. Here within the spaces in between states of existence, an ancient soul held absolute power over a fledgling one. And Trippy showed no qualms about putting his power to use. Please, Serac! I¡¯m only trying to guide you, like I¡¯m meant to. That¡¯s the only thing I know. The only thing I can hold onto. I¡¯ve been entrusted with guiding you to the summit of Mount Meru, and I will do that even if it means bending you to my will. A Ksana? A Kalpa? It was impossible to tell. The pain was so great and so interminable that nearly all of Serac would¡¯ve done anything¡ªagreed to anything¡ªto make it stop. Please, Serac. Just give in. Let me¡ªand me alone¡ªbe your voice of guidance upon these treacherous roads. Give me your consent now, and that will be the end of it. No more pain. No more bickering. Only the Path. Nearly all of Serac¡ªbut not all. A fire yet burned that could never be snuffed out, no matter what winds chilled her courage and what fears flooded her heart. And she stoked that fire now, coaxing the embers until they sparked anew and roared aflame. And even as she screamed out in desperate rebellion, the non-world around her and Trippy dissolved, as the latter¡¯s magic ran out of time. NOOOOO¡ª *** ¡°¡ªooooo¡­¡± Serac ¡®woke¡¯ with a start, drenched in cold sweat despite having just reconstituted to full health. She shot to her feet and looked about in a wild panic, flinging her arms as if to ward away an evil presence. Its ¡®absence¡¯ gave her no relief, however, as she once again found herself in a completely unfamiliar environment. She¡¯d expected to reconstitute inside the antechamber before the throne room¡ªnext to the Waystation put down by Meetra. Instead, she was presently outdoors, under the cloudless red sky of a Naraka morning. However, she soon saw that wasn¡¯t entirely accurate. For one thing, the lotus flower in question was nestled among shattered stone and broken bones¡ªthe same table that the Wayfarers and Maidens destroyed during their battle. For another, at least three sides of the walls that made up the antechamber still remained, though partially collapsed. One side, however, was gone completely, along with seemingly the rest of the Ossuary (from what Serac could see). And in its place flowed a River of Blood. Serac slowly returned to a sitting position, having lost the strength in her legs. She gaped at the rushing, dirty, sanguine water, which even now cascaded down the steep terrain of the Bonespires. The ¡®fog¡¯ of bone dust had completely dissipated, which allowed her to follow the river¡¯s course onto the Badlands that stretched below, where it split into multiple, snaking streams. Where did this thing even pop out of? Was it always here before, and we just didn¡¯t see it because of the Ossuary? Speaking of¡­ what the hell happened to the Ossuary?? Seeking answers, Serac directed her gaze upstream, trying to ascertain the river¡¯s origin. To her surprise and ever-expanding shock, it didn¡¯t take long for her to find it. Just next to the antechamber, the spire that once housed the Bone Lord¡¯s throne lay in ruins: piles of pale-gray fragments that had broken out of their Huskbound forms. Among the ruins also were objects of a distinctly earthenware appearance¡ªthe shattered pieces of RELIQUARY, now bereft of its magic and telling the end to the Bone Lord¡¯s reign. The River of Blood gushed through these ruins, having already carved out a channel for its torrential currents. And as Serac looked up, she saw that these currents were merely the continuation of a waterfall that fell from the sky. For the very heavens had split open. And, for the first time in centuries and more, the Sanzu River nourished the wastelands of hell. 68. It Takes a Village 68. It Takes a Village As Serac Edin relished her final moments in the highest peak of hell, she was buoyed by memories of camaraderie. It¡¯d taken her a lot longer than she might¡¯ve planned, but she was finally here. Back amidst the ruins of the Ossuary where the Bloodfall fed into the revitalized Sanzu River. Now that both she and Zacko had satisfied the eligibility requirements for ascension, there was nothing left to keep them in hell. After all the handwringing about Zacko¡¯s debt situation, it was something of an irony that Serac ended up second place in the race to KL-30. The delay, of course, had been the direct result of two factors: 1) the loss of a whooping 63,080 ? of Karma at the end of the Bone Lord fight, and 2) the [Anchored] status effect preventing her from leveling up even if she had the Karma to ingrain. On the first count, Serac stuck to her guns and let the Manusya keep all of it (against Zacko¡¯s loud protests and Trippy¡¯s silent disapproval). In the end, it wasn¡¯t her distaste for killing her partner that led to this generous decision. Rather, it was a simple matter of practicality. The Wayfarers had closed the Bone Lord saga with Serac on KL-25 and Zacko on KL-21. The massive windfall from his ¡®theft¡¯, together with the Karma candies handed out by the Pishacha army, had allowed the latter to level up a further 11 times, bringing him to an ascension-ready KL of 32. Afterwards, the NINEFOLD master dedicated his last days in hell to helping his Rakshasa partner catch up. He did so by spending his leftover Karma with impunity, liberally dipping into [Dreamer Aspect] to soften up Aberrants for Serac¡¯s smiting. The books didn¡¯t completely balance out, but as far as Serac was concerned, it was more than a fair trade. She received the assist gladly, though she did forbid any activations of VISAGE that would¡¯ve brought Zacko back into the negatives. All in all, it made her progression from KL-25 to 30 as easy and carefree as could be expected. That was, at least as far as the numbers were concerned. Because all that freshly earned Liminal Karma would be for naught if she couldn¡¯t find a way to ingrain it. And for that, she needed to unburden herself of another soul¡¯s self-imposed curse. When it came to [Anchored], even the ever-rigorous Trippy was at a loss. ¡°Based on my knowledge, [Anchored] is almost always a permanent effect,¡± had been his only (and noticeably sullen) contribution to the topic. ¡°It¡¯s the result of a Wayfarer rejecting or abandoning her Path. Due to cowardice, inability, or¡ªin some rare cases¡ªa superseding obligation. Pathsight does not take kindly to the fickleness of souls, and will punish such deviations accordingly. My one hope with your case is that your [Anchor] was thrust upon you, rather than forged by choice. Perhaps therein lies the solution, but as to the specifics¡­¡± What did Serac do whenever she was lost? Look to her friends for help. Having exhausted all other options, it was time to turn to the locals again. And who better to ask than the oldest, wisest local she met on the road? ¡°I never knew this Meetra, but she was of the same Reticent Tribe from which I myself hail,¡± had been Ravi the First Hoper¡¯s best-guess advice. ¡°They are a tight-knit group, valuing familial connections above all else. Seek them out in the lowlands to the east. Perhaps that is where you¡¯ll find this ¡®obligation¡¯ that anchored a wayward Wayfarer¡ªand in turn the means to put her tortured memories to rest.¡± Serac and Zacko¡¯s visit of First Hope had also coincided with a spot of trouble. Apparently, the nearby Damnatorium had fallen on hard times, with a scarcity of new Penitents compounded by their ¡®ferry¡¯ being out of commission. In their neverending quest for more souls to torture, they first turned to known commodities, in the form of fugitives who stood guard at First Hope. The Wayfarers, of course, paused their Wayfaring to help defend the settlement. In fact, they did more than defend, taking their improved parameters and polished skills to go on the attack. They ¡®invaded¡¯ the Damnatorium in a reverse prison break, cleaning out its bowels of Jailers and Wardens and what other impurities besides. For Serac, it doubled as a bit of personal revenge plus a juicy Karma haul, though perhaps even more satisfying was what she was able to do for her fellow inmates. Many more Rakshasas became freesouls that day, and those who couldn¡¯t, due to Frenzy, were laid to rest¡ªwith the hope that, by the time they reincarnated, Naraka would be a much better hell. As for the Damnatorium itself, not even a pair of leveled- and skilled-up Wayfarers had the means to erase it from the map entirely. Emptied of its roster of industrious Hellspawns, however, it would be some time before this open sore in the lowest pits of hell could return to its former, purulent glory. Although, Serac had a sneaking suspicion that the locals might have other ideas. Old scores settled, and a few thousand ? richer for the experience, the Wayfarers said another round of goodbyes to the Hopers and moved to their next destination. They followed Ravi¡¯s lead and headed for the Reticence Fields, though not before stopping by the Huskbound Sanctuary for an escort mission. The children, even after they¡¯d been released from the Bone Lord¡¯s shroud, still proved mistrustful of strangers. Perhaps it was only natural, after all they¡¯d been through. But, once again, Anita the artist provided the first spark, acknowledging Serac¡¯s earnest invitation by taking the latter¡¯s callused hand in her tiny one. Soon, the other children followed suit, until a party of three ballooned to hundreds and more. They left behind the caverns, now hollow and empty save for the children¡¯s drawings¡ªand the memories of the pilgrims that had been encased in Bone. Here, the journey slowed to a crawl. The children were too many to fit inside Ash¡¯s cabin, and a little too unruly besides. On top of defending the pack from Aberrants on the road, the Wayfarers received a crash course in the skill of ¡®babysitting¡¯, wondering all the while if perhaps leveling [Abidance] might help keep a lid on their boiling tempers. Their patience was rewarded when they reached the Reticence Fields. While many of the children had lost their parents, enough responsible relatives and kind-hearted neighbours remained to take in every one of the orphans. Boiling tempers notwithstanding, Serac had become deeply attached to the children, which made seeing them off to their new homes (especially Anita) a tearful and bittersweet experience. Yet, as tempted as she was to set down roots amongst the ¡®family¡¯ that had eluded her her whole life, she knew that her Path led elsewhere. The Reticence Fields proved to be another place of reunion for the Wayfarers. Pazu, Indira, and many other ex-Hopers were already there, lending their able bodies and bright minds to the construction of the rumored Rakshasa ¡®city¡¯. Said construction appeared to be well underway, though still in its early stages that focused on shoring up defenses, consolidating scattered tribes, and securing the foundations for a large-scale settlement.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Pazu interrupted his work to assist Serac with her search. With his help, they soon found the small hillside village where Meetra and her brother once lived. There, they learned of the brother¡¯s name (Vrata), as well as the siblings¡¯ life story. They too had been orphans who relied on each other to survive, and said to be absolutely inseparable before Meetra¡¯s departure as a Wayfarer. The party even managed to track down the very hut that had belonged to the siblings. It was a truly humble affair, consisting of a patchwork tarp held up by sticks, rocks, and bones. It¡¯d been deserted for some time, but the siblings¡¯ fellow tribespeople had left it alone out of respect. Here, Serac tried her best to learn what she could of Meetra and the memories that had tied her down. A compact table upon which the siblings had kept a running score of their card games. A rickety shelf that displayed a collection of carved bloodstones¡ªlikely Vrata¡¯s handiwork. And a worn, cracked shortsword, one crafted and sharpened from bone¡ªno doubt the very weapon with which a young Rakshasa woman had once defended her tribe and her only family from Hellspawns, until one day, the powers that be saw fit to offer her ¡®another way out¡¯. Serac clutched at her chest as she took it all in. For the first time, she thought she finally understood what might compel a freesoul to cast aside her freedom. But understanding brought her no closer to release. And that was when Dashi sat down in front of her, taking her hand in his as he mirrored her meditative pose. ¡°I think I know what must be done,¡± had been the boy¡¯s unexpected solution, spoken with a calm resolve far beyond his years (but not, as both Wayfarers had learned and accepted by then, beyond his character). ¡°Set down your burden, Meetra, and leave it with me, Serac. I will be the reliquary to preserve and honor the memories of my people. Their suffering, their regrets, and their sins alike. And when I¡¯m older and stronger, I will be the hand to carry out their will and build the Naraka of their dreams.¡± If it¡¯d been any other child¡ªnay, any other soul¡ªwho''d made these claims, Serac would¡¯ve gently chided them out of their misplaced ambitions. But by then, Serac had traveled with Dashi long enough to develop her own theories about what made him special¡ªwhy indeed the Bone Lord had chosen this particular boy as his favorite vessel. It was because Dashi was Dashanan¡ªthe Bone Lord himself. Or, at the very least, a version of him that had once shared the same soul, before bifurcating into body and spirit. She wouldn¡¯t have even dreamed of such an idea¡ªif she didn¡¯t believe herself to be the product of a similar sort of¡­ what was the right word? Separation? Replication? The afterlife worked in mysterious ways, and it held its answers close to its chest. Serac would have to gather more pieces before she could complete the full picture. For now, however, one such puzzle piece sat in front of her, in the form of a child who was wise, brave, and generous beyond his years. Where his ¡®other¡¯ had been twisted and corrupted by centuries of torment and obsession, Dashi the boy still had his whole life ahead of him to make good on his noble spirit¡ªand his natural talent for leadership. Especially if that life could be extended into that of an Immortal. Until this moment, seated and facing each other across a table full of card game scores, Serac had held out hope that Dashi could become a permanent third member of their little Wayfaring troupe. Of course, that would require his becoming a Wayfarer himself, but the boy obviously had potential¡ªand Serac had the patience to wait. She now saw that the hope had been in vain. Not because she¡¯d been wrong about Dashi¡¯s potential or the limits of her own patience. But because the boy had his superseding obligations. His own Path to tread. His own destiny to fulfill. And that was also the moment where Meetra finally found the place to set down her burden. For Serac had found the person to leave it with. As Wayfarer and boy sat in joint meditation, a lotus flower bloomed upon a card table. The strange ritual had required Serac to spend a Waystation charge, but she deemed it well worth the cost. The bony encasement upon her chest fell away into powder. Meetra and Vrata¡¯s bloodstone cameo gave off a faint blue glow as it floated across the pure-white petals of the lotus flower. It set itself into Dashi¡¯s chest, upon the scars of his erstwhile sacrifice. Then it stayed there, not as a burden, but as the light to guide a boy and his people to the future of their dreams. And that was when Serac couldn¡¯t help but snicker, utterly ruining the moment. For she recalled that a certain boy used to carry around a certain lantern. Well, it seemed that he¡¯d gotten himself a brand new one¡ªand in an even more portable form at that! Far from admonishing her impropriety, Serac¡¯s companions soon joined in on her merriment. First Zacko, then Dashi who, despite the solemnity of his vows, rocked and shook with a child¡¯s clear-voiced and carefree laugh. [Burden: 65/31 (Overburdened) -> 15/31 (Burdened)] [TRIBULATION active (x1): current buff at 5%] *** Several more days of travel (much quicker without the children!) brought the Wayfarers back to the base of the Bloodfall. Here, they stared up into the sky, towards the ¡®fissure¡¯ from which the water fell. Indeed, ¡®Bloodfall¡¯ was something of a partial misnomer. For the water took on its sanguine appearance only halfway through the drop, no doubt muddied and gunked up by Naraka¡¯s hellish essence. Prior to that transition, the water was of a mossy, greenish color. Trippy, despite being cross with Serac, could still be coaxed into performing his glossary duties on occasion¡ªthis being one of them. ¡°Pretjord is characterized by ancient forests and countless bodies of water, all of which are connected to the Sanzu in one way or another. I imagine the green is a reflection of the Realm¡¯s rich biodiversity.¡± ¡°Sounds like paradise,¡± Serac quipped, oddly heartened by her robot voice¡¯s helpful attitude. ¡°Or at least it sounds like the exact opposite of this hellhole.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be so sure, princess,¡± Zacko chimed in, with one eyebrow ever bent in sardonic humor. ¡°Every Realm has its own supply of Aberrants for us to smite. Also, don¡¯t forget, we¡¯ll be running into more Wayfarers the higher we climb. And you know those guys can¡¯t be trusted.¡± ¡°Pfft, you¡¯re one to speak!¡± ¡°Hey, I think I deserve a little credit. At least I didn¡¯t turn out like some of the other Wayfarers you¡¯ve met.¡± At this, Serac¡¯s face fell somewhat, though not for the reason she might¡¯ve expected. ¡°Still thinking about Dashi?¡± Zacko said as he lowered his eyebrow in implied apology. Serac nodded, then shook her head just as quickly. ¡°No,¡± she decided. ¡°This is right. This is as it should be.¡± Zacko chuckled good-naturedly. ¡°Like my mama always used to say, it takes a village to raise an Immortal. Dashi¡¯s in good hands, you¡¯ll see. And if he does end up becoming Naraka¡¯s next Realm Immortal, well, he¡¯ll be one boss I wouldn¡¯t mind working with.¡± There Zacko went again with one of mama¡¯s famous sayings. By now, Serac was starting to wonder how much of these aphorisms had actually come from his mother and how much was ad-libbed for the man¡¯s own amusement. ¡°Well, it¡¯s like I always say,¡± Serac took a stab at an ad-lib of her own. ¡°We all have our own Paths to tread, and mine happens to lead nowhere else but up.¡± Zacko smiled at this, as earnest as he¡¯d ever be. ¡°Shall we?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s.¡± According to Trippy¡¯s instructions, all Serac needed to complete her ascension now was to stand under the waterfall and let Pathsight do its thing. It sounded simple enough in theory, but in practice and up close, the Bloodfall looked rather inhospitable¡ªmore likely to wash away her scrawny Rakshasa frame than to carry her up into the heavens. But, once again, there was nowhere else for her to go but up. So, she screwed up her courage and let nature take its course. As it turned out, the water was as inhospitable as it looked. It drenched Serac in its ¡®blood¡¯, which was as viscous and hot as if it¡¯d spurt out of a freshly severed artery. She shut her eyes and pushed on, struggling to find purchase on the skeletal fragments that served as the substrate for this portion of the Sanzu River. Eventually, she made it to the Bloodfall¡¯s ¡®center¡¯, making sure to leave enough room for Zacko to stand beside her. Then, the two of them bowed their heads and brought their hands together in standing meditation. [Designation: SERAC EDIN] [Karmic Level: 30] [Ascension Status: APPROVED] As Pathsight ¡®did its thing¡¯, a familiar sensation took hold of Serac. Solid into liquid into vapor into soul. Altogether rising towards the heavens¡ªas her Path intended. 69. [COUNTERPOINT] A Gods Life for Me 69. [COUNTERPOINT] A God''s Life for Me As they went about their usual day in Devalem¡ªthe most virtuous of the Virtuous Realms¡ªSublimity, Herald of the Righteous Chains, was bored out of their mind. Today, like all other days, Sublimity sat wrapped inside the Rippling Lotus¡ªtheir personalized corner of nothing amidst a field of more nothing. And in the privacy afforded by the Lotic space, they indulged in their daily use of contraband. Well, the other gods would call it ¡®contraband¡¯, but Sublimity would characterize their painstakingly curated collection of off-Realm souvenirs as ¡®necessities¡¯ for maintaining their sanity. One such necessity was a down cushion for Skyhowl to nap on (in its puffy, fluffy portable form, of course). Of premium craftsmanship, the cushion had been ¡®won¡¯ from a Tidereign merchant after he¡¯d refused to sell it to Sublimity, citing some oath or code or another. Tidereigners and their ¡®oaths¡¯, how bothersome¡­ In any case, that merchant¡¯s next reincarnation would be happy to know that his product was being put to good use. For Skyhowl, being the hard-to-please fussbudget that it was, refused to curl up on Sublimity¡¯s armored lap without the cushion. Even now, the hound snored blissfully as its master absent-mindedly ran their hand through its cloud-white fur. The bulk of Sublimity¡¯s attention, however, was attuned to the television screen that hung from one of the lotus petals. Ah, TV¡ªwithout a doubt the greatest invention conceived by the busybodies over in Manesfera. What was more, the merchants there had zero qualms about selling their wares to anyone who was willing to pay. If the down cushion was the most necessary of Sublimity¡¯s possessions, the TV would rank a close second. Indeed, in recent weeks, it very nearly dethroned the cushion, as Sublimity¡¯s need to distract themselves with cheap entertainment took center stage. For their suspension from their professional duties¡ªindefinite until further notice¡ªhad hit them harder than they¡¯d expected. It wasn¡¯t that they particularly liked their job as the Overseer in charge of Naraka; gods knew not enough happened in that hellhole to warrant the hours spent monitoring it. Even so, the sudden lack of purpose or routine had only highlighted the sheer emptiness that defined the day-to-day of a fully ascended Deva. Normally, the TV would serve as a ¡®second screen¡¯ while Sublimity kept a mind¡¯s eye on the data that streamed in through Pathsight. With their access having been restricted, however, they had nothing better to do than to channel-surf through reruns of old Manesferan shows. To think that, at one point, they¡¯d been excited about their time off! The hope had been that they could finally dig into some of the critically acclaimed arthouse pieces and heady crime dramas they¡¯d been putting off for ages. Yet, when they sat down in earnest to work through their backlog, they quickly discovered a different reality. The art films¡¯ slow pacing and obscure messaging only irritated them. The crime dramas had too many characters to keep track of, and frankly, the portrayed stakes were a little too tense and stressful for Sublimity¡¯s tastes. In the end, they settled back into their comfort watch: sitcoms with laugh tracks and slice-of-life animes. Today¡¯s guilty pleasure was a legendary episode from season 6 of A Dragon¡¯s Life for Me, in which the titular shapeshifting dragon revealed to his human love interest the truth of his somewhat mythical origins. Honestly, even this was a little too tense and stressful for Sublimity¡¯s tastes, but it definitely helped that they¡¯d already seen it about 500 times. Presently, Sublimity paused their petting of Skyhowl, prompting the latter to let out a quizzical growl. The Herald ignored their Steed, absorbed as they were in the climactic scene of the episode. As the dusk sun descended behind the roof of a typical Manesferan high school, the dragon faced his crush and uttered the iconic line that tugged at many a heartstring back when it first aired. I came to this world because I wanted to be free to live however I wished¡ªto love whomever I desired. But¡­ how can I do that if I can¡¯t even be true to myself¡ªtrue to the person I care about most? Right now, I want you to see the real me¡ªmy truest and freest self. Sublimity mouthed along with the line without realizing. They¡¯d memorized it, of course. How could they not after 500 viewings? Which, of course, also meant they knew the response by heart. As the sun set, and as the moon shone upon the protagonist¡¯s newly reptilian features, his amorous counterpart had said to him¡ª ¡°Sublimity? May I come in?¡± Oh shit! Faster than the speed of light (literally), Sublimity shut off the TV and furled the lotus petal over it. They then unceremoniously dumped Skyhowl off their lap (prompting an indignant yelp) before shoving the warmed cushion inside their chestpiece. Not a moment too soon, as the speaker phased into Sublimity¡¯s Lotic space without waiting for a reply. Gods were not known for their patience, and this visitor was no exception. Elegy, Herald of the Ubiquitous Laments, deigned to give a slight bow of greeting as they levitated in. As usual, they wore a flowing, celestial robe with floating sashes that gave them a distinctly feminine appearance. Their veil, made of dragonfly wings, hung down a little lower than was fashionable among the Devas, fluttering just above the subtle swell of their bosom (which Sublimity very much suspected was artificial in nature). ¡°Elegy,¡± Sublimity spoke evenly, having already composed themselves after the near disaster, ¡°to what do I owe the pleasure?¡± Before answering, Elegy¡¯s ¡®gaze¡¯ lingered for a Ksana upon Sublimity¡¯s chest, which they only now realized must have taken on an unnatural bulge, courtesy of the cushion. Well? What are you going to do about it? You show me yours, and I¡¯ll show you mine. ¡°The pleasure is all mine,¡± came the reply, just as determined to be affectless, ¡°but alas, we cannot stop and chat. I¡¯ve come to fetch¡ªahem¡ªinvite you to an urgent meeting with the Abiding Ones.¡± Sublimity tensed, knowing full well that Elegy¡¯s turn of phrase¡ªas well as the ensuing correction¡ªhad been wholly intentional. And as much as they loathed them for it, there wasn¡¯t anything to be gained from showing it. Not now¡ªnot while Elegy held the coveted position of Devalem¡¯s Overseer. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. In truth, the job itself amounted to nothing more than a glorified runner for the Abiding Ones (forget Naraka being uneventful; there truly was nothing to oversee here in Devalem). But it also doubled as the highest position a Herald could attain before their Deification proper. And if any of the incumbent Abiding Ones were to kick the bucket, Elegy would surely have the inside track to claim that vacant seat. Compared to that, Sublimity¡ªas the newest of the fully ascended Devas¡ªtook up the lowest rung. There were exactly five Heralds (including Elegy) above them, and if they had any hope of climbing that ladder, they¡¯d best be on their best behavior. Especially so soon after that moment of self-indulgent madness that had earned them their suspension. And being on their best behavior meant hiding their contraband whenever there were visitors around. It also meant keeping a veil over their less-than-savory thoughts about their superiors. ¡°Of course, Herald.¡± Sublimity managed to keep that veil intact. ¡°Lead the way.¡± The ¡®way¡¯ consisted of a vast landscape of pure and utter nothing. Nothing as far as the eye could see, and nothing as long as the mind could imagine. And as much as Sublimity understood and adhered to the principles of Anicca and Anatta, for the life of them, they couldn¡¯t see why the Devas couldn¡¯t at least push their individual Lotuses closer together. ¡°So, a meeting. Barely a month into my suspension,¡± Sublimity struck up a conversation, more to assuage boredom than out of a real need to know. ¡°Let me guess. My little pet project is bearing fruit already?¡± ¡°A word of warning,¡± came the prompt reply, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t let the Abiding Ones hear you say that, if I were you. But¡­ I suppose there¡¯s no point keeping it from you. To answer your question, yes. The mongrel you unleashed into the world has bit into its first chunk of bone.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Sublimity did their utmost to keep the delight out of their voice. ¡°What did she do? Learn a new spell? Smite another boss?¡± ¡°Two new spells, and likely more on the way very shortly. And¡ªlet¡¯s see¡ªfour bosses, depending on how you want to count them. Including the Realm Immortal.¡± Sublimity stopped in their tracks, prompting Skyhowl to bump into their leg. Elegy spun in the air to face them, their expression¡ªof course¡ªunreadable. ¡°The Realm Immortal?¡± Sublimity exclaimed, no longer able to mask their bubbling excitement. ¡°In one month? Does that mean¡­ is she about to ascend already?¡± ¡°Well, not quite just yet. Thankfully, she¡¯s hit something of a snag, which gives us the time to prepare a response.¡± ¡°A response¡­¡± Sublimity muttered as they resumed their walk. ¡°What, do the Abiding Ones wish to snuff her out? I suppose there¡¯s not much I can do about that, but then¡­ why have they called for me? What do they need me for?¡± ¡°Do not get ahead of yourself, Herald. It¡¯s a simple rostering issue,¡± Elegy explained, not bothering to veil their disdain. ¡°As you know, Humility was pulling double duties, covering your share of the Naraka oversight. Well, they¡¯ve been summoned to Suradao to assist Duality. Trouble in paradise. Again.¡± As they said this, Elegy ¡®rolled their eyes¡¯. Sublimity scoffed in solidarity. If there was anything the Heralds could all agree on, it was that they could share a joke at Duality''s overworked expense. At the same time, Sublimity broke out in an involuntary shudder, as they recalled their own harrowing journey through the Fifth Realm. Forget Naraka. Suradao is the true ¡®hell¡¯ of the Six Realms. ¡°So, if I¡¯m understanding you correctly,¡± Sublimity again, ¡°the Abiding Ones have been spooked by this Rakshasa¡¯s unusually rapid progression¡ªespecially for one that had to start from the lowliest Realm. They want one of us Heralds to, what, stall her? But since everyone¡¯s so busy, they¡¯ve had no choice but to reinstate me, is that it? What about you, Elegy? Why can¡¯t you do it?¡± Elegy didn¡¯t dignify this with a response. Instead, they beckoned towards a Lotus that had appeared before them, one much larger and more multifaceted than Sublimity¡¯s Rippling. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask them yourself?¡± Elegy said as they stepped aside. Sublimity hmph¡¯d, indulging in the last bit of self-expression before they had to face the Abiding Ones. They bent down to give Skyhowl the signal for ¡®wait¡¯, then phased into the Lotus. Despite its outward size and grandiosity, the Whispering Lotus was by far the least accommodating of the Lotic spaces. For one thing, it was steeped in pitch darkness¡ªone of a universal rather than visual nature. In a word, it was a sensory deprivation chamber. Inside the Whispering, neither Sublimity nor any other soul could see, hear, touch, nor speak. Here, they were invariably reduced to a receptacle for the Abiding One¡¯s one-sided rebukes and demands. Of course, the Abiding Ones themselves were invisible and insensible, with their presence indicated only via Pathsight. Presently, from left to right, the labels read: [AVIDITY¡ªDeity of the Oft Heard] [VIGILANCE¡ªDeity of the Far Reached] [PLENITUDE¡ªDeity of the Full Grown] [INERTIA¡ªDeity of the Long Awaited] That¡¯s odd, Sublimity had the time to think to themselves. Odyssey isn¡¯t here. Have they been called away to urgent business? Or perhaps¡­ could it be that they¡¯re abstaining? ¡°Here they are,¡± a gruff baritone issued from the leftmost side, ¡°the insolent brat.¡± ¡°Calm, Deity,¡± a raspy alto from left of center, ¡°the time is long past for airing out grievances.¡± ¡°Quite,¡± a dulcet tenor from right of center, ¡°let us move forward and focus on solutions.¡± ¡°Now, Herald,¡± a tremulous soprano from the rightmost side, ¡°I trust you already know what we ask of you?¡± For the briefest of Ksanas, Sublimity inwardly sighed, frustrated by the pomp and circumstance¡ªby the hypocrisy of it all. You know full well I can¡¯t speak for myself. And neither do you need me to. They managed to minimize their ¡®insolence¡¯ and impurity of thought to a fleeting moment in time. Perhaps not enough to escape the notice of the oldest gods in the afterlife, but enough for them to let it slide. ¡°The one you let out of its cage in your arrogant folly¡±¡ªAvidity¡¯s gruff baritone¡ª¡°the one accompanied by a remnant of the Upheaval.¡± ¡°She shows the promise you exalted¡±¡ªVigilance¡¯s raspy alto¡ª¡°and we feared.¡± ¡°By some failing on her part¡±¡ªPlenitude¡¯s dulcet tenor¡ª¡°she¡¯s momentarily grounded herself in Naraka, which is where you come in.¡± ¡°Head her off¡±¡ªInertia¡¯s tremulous soprano¡ª¡°and make amends for your mistake. Exploit Pretjord¡¯s destabilizing elements, of which there are plenty. Find a way to cut short her Path, but remember: the choice has to be her own.¡± It was all Sublimity could do to veil their emotions. For all their contempt for the Abiding Ones¡ªsometimes more open than was wise¡ªat least on this count, Herald and Deities could agree. Sublimity couldn¡¯t think of a better cure for their boredom than checking up on Serac Edin and her REVOLVER. 70. [INTERLUDE] The Exile and His Tea 70. [INTERLUDE] The Exile and His Tea The last time Zacarias Borges-Juventus passed through the Wayside Lotus, its famous teahouse had been packed to the brim with freshly ascended Tidereigners. They¡¯d been a rowdy group, contrary to their Realm¡¯s reputation for puritanical asceticism. But he supposed that was just what happened when you set loose a bunch of teetotalers on a diverse catalog of intoxicants¡ªboth of the liquid and gaseous variety¡ªsourced from up and down the slopes of Mount Meru. In fact, the last time he was here, he could barely breathe, let alone find a seat at which to drown out his sorrows. Today, however, the place was all but empty¡ªno songs, no smoke, no flying cups. Which was rather ironic, given that his cravings too had been much suppressed. For a mobile ¡®Lotic space¡¯ that fluxed across the transitional planes between Realms, the Wayside was surprisingly solid in appearance and cozy in atmosphere. The teahouse in particular was of a rustic bamboo construction, with its monochromatic frame and furnishings enlivened by a dense ensemble of bottles, pipes, and knick-knacks. Zacarias, who¡¯d skipped through Tidereign and Pretjord in his fall from grace, was unfamiliar with a majority of the items on display. There was, of course, the muted television behind the counter, which even now showed a black-and-white film from way before his time. Even from the little he¡¯d interacted with outrealmers, he knew TV to be Manesfera¡¯s most popular export¡ªand by a fair margin at that. On this occasion, his eyes also fell upon a raw mineral specimen that served as a centerpiece on one of the tables. A distinctive base of gray, green, and pale-blue, all of it streaked and splashed with a lurid dark-red. Bloodstone. So, Naraka was represented here as well¡ªsomething the Manusya had no way of recognizing on his previous visit. Zacarias had strolled into the teahouse by his lonesome, after helping Serac get settled into the rest of the Wayside Lotus. Presently, the only other ¡®guest¡¯¡ªif one could even call him that¡ªwas a dreary-looking fellow who was slumped over the counter, an empty cup in one hand and his own face buried in the other. Though his facial features were hidden, the man¡¯s willowy build, the scales on his exposed wrist, and the dorsal fin that poked out of the back of his tunic clearly marked him out as a Yaksha. A Pretjordian, then, on his way down to Naraka. That would make him another exile, though his fall wouldn¡¯t be nearly as precipitous as the Manesferan¡¯s. It would also explain the man¡¯s apparent demeanor; Zacarias himself would¡¯ve looked very similar this time several months ago, had he been allowed a seat at the table. He did his best to give the poor Yaksha the space he needed, choosing to sit on the far end of the counter. The bar itself was attended by a lone, middle-aged man. Tall and slender, with a thick graying beard. A fellow Manusya, Zacarias wanted to say, though the man¡¯s wide-brimmed hat and bulky leather jacket made it difficult to rule out Asura. Heck, even Rakshasa wasn¡¯t out of the question; Zacarias had certainly seen stranger things of late. Whatever the proprietor¡¯s origin might be, he lacked a Pathsighted label with which to announce it to the Wayfaring populace. As such, Zacarias was forced into the whole awkward thing of combining hand gestures with a vague address to get himself served. ¡°Uh¡­ barkeep? Tea¡­ master? Any chance I could get a rundown of your menu?¡± The teamaster made no reply, nor so much as a movement in response. Indeed, he¡¯d remained perfectly still since the moment his latest patron had walked in, with his bushy eyes pointed straight forward. Zacarias tried to follow the other man¡¯s gaze, only to find himself staring back at the interdimensional barrier that separated the Wayside from the physical realm. As far as he could tell, the teamaster wasn¡¯t busy with anything, which seemed to suggest that he was simply ignoring him. Oh well. Zacarias shrugged. Kind of a weird way to treat a paying customer, but who am I to judge? Certainly seen stranger things of late. Momentarily bereft of a better way to occupy himself, the Manusya turned his attention back to his fellow patron¡ªthe Yaksha who, quite literally, was misery incarnate. His first instinct had been to leave the man well enough alone, and the Zacarias of even a few months ago would¡¯ve followed that instinct to the bitter end. But the Zacarias of today had met Serac Edin and all that followed, and as such, he knew there was more than one way to keep misery¡¯s company. ¡°Tough day at the office, eh?¡± No response. Not so much as a twitch of a muscle. Zacarias was starting to detect a theme, but he persisted. ¡°I don¡¯t blame ya. Gods know this shit can really get you down sometimes. But if it¡¯s any consolation, it does get better. And I¡¯m not just saying that. I¡¯ve been there myself.¡± Still nothing. Zacarias shrugged again, though with a somewhat heavier heart. He gave it his best shot, as he knew a certain gunslinger might. But he also knew that not every soul could¡ª ¡°Appreciate the effort, sir, but I¡¯m afraid this fellow may indeed be a lost cause.¡± Zacarias looked up with a start, and found the teamaster¡¯s bushy gaze on himself. The older man, hitherto frozen in inaction, now moved and talked like a normal soul being¡ªalmost like an automaton whose internal mechanisms had kicked into gear. Of all the strange things Zacarias had witnessed of late, this might indeed have been the eeriest. ¡°I¡¯d say that¡¯s a bit harsh, but I suppose you¡¯ve seen a lot of his sort come and go,¡± he spoke with deliberate softness, trying to hide his own startlement. ¡°Got any tips on how to tell if one exile might be more irredeemable than another?¡± ¡°Look closer. I believe you can see it for yourself.¡± Zacarias did, and was startled again to see exactly what the teamaster meant. On closer inspection, it became clear that the Yaksha was ¡®not all there¡¯. Mentally too, probably, but the observation was of a decidedly physical nature. The ¡®edges¡¯ of the man¡¯s bodily frame had been blurred and effaced, as if he were a watercolor with a little too much water and not enough color. This effect was most prominent on his otherwise impressive dorsal fin, the bulk of which had thinned until it was nearly transparent. Zacarias could look through his fellow patron and at the latticed wall on the other side. ¡°What the hell is¡±¡ªthe answer came to him even before he finished the question¡ª¡°happening¡­?¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°He¡¯s fading into Souldust,¡± the teamaster confirmed Zacarias¡¯s hunch, ¡°but perhaps at a much more gradual rate than what you might be accustomed to seeing.¡± ¡°Does that mean he¡¯s¡­ dead? Dying?¡± Zacarias couldn¡¯t take his eyes off the fading Yaksha. ¡°And where would he¡ªwhat would happen to him after¡­¡± ¡°Death is one description for it, I suppose,¡± the teamaster said, then began to busy himself behind the counter, pulling out a bamboo tea tray full of clay pots and cups. ¡°Extinguishment would be another. And once this fire burns out, I¡¯m afraid there will be no relighting it.¡± ¡°How long has this been going on?¡± Zacarias was surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice. The teamaster didn¡¯t answer right away, though his hands continued to rearrange the tea set. Then, after a pause that was long enough for Zacarias to wonder if he was being ignored again: ¡°It¡¯s hard to keep track of time from inside the Wayside Lotus. By your count, I¡¯d say¡­ close to a century now. But it¡¯s only in the last decade or so that he¡¯s begun to fade in earnest.¡± Zacarias was aghast. ¡°A century? That¡¯s how long this guy hasn¡¯t moved from his spot?¡± ¡°Correct. And I hope you don¡¯t take this the wrong way, sir, but I daresay that¡¯s long enough for whatever brought him here in the first place to have¡­ worked itself out. Not that it¡¯d make a difference at this point.¡± The Manusya turned his open-mouthed expression back onto the teamaster. The older man did not return the gesture, instead focusing on his task. Besides the brief disclaimer, there was no indication that the man had knowingly said anything callous or untoward. He¡¯d simply stated an observation¡ªand a rather reasonable one at that. Zacarias shook his head, marveling at all the creative ways an unkillable Wayfarer could, in fact, die for good. Just in Naraka, he¡¯d witnessed a Shriving and survived an attempted Enlistment. Even before that¡ªhe realized now with a slight shudder¡ªhe himself had been at risk of a self-inflicted ¡®extinguishment¡¯¡ªif it hadn¡¯t been for a certain prison riot that had shaken him out of his rut. ¡°Oh, and sir, please forgive my earlier¡­ disconnect,¡± the teamaster suddenly said without looking up. His bushy eyes were now pointed to a teapot with which he poured steaming water into a clay cup. ¡°I have to be in five different places at once, you see. Sometimes, it can get to be a bit much.¡± ¡°I understand. No offense taken.¡± Zacarias meant it. He¡¯d seen first-hand just how busy the Wayside could get in some of the ¡®other locations¡¯. ¡°But you¡¯ve got me all to yourself now.¡± With that, the teamaster finished pouring and set down the cup in front of his one conscious patron. He used two hands to do so, and even adorned the gesture with a ritualistic bow that rather ill-matched his leathery attire. ¡°And here¡¯s your order. Thank you for your patience.¡± ¡°Uh, but I haven¡¯t ordered yet.¡± ¡°No, but a good teamaster should always know what his customer needs.¡± Needs¡ªnot wants, huh? Zacarias peered down at his steaming cup of red liquid. That color¡­ and the smell. What is that, hibiscus tea? ¡°How much do I owe you?¡± he asked out loud, switching over to Pathsight for a gander at his Liminal Karma¡ªthankfully still in the positive. ¡°Don¡¯t trouble yourself, sir,¡± the teamaster said with a subtle shake of the head. ¡°This one¡¯s on the house.¡± Zacarias hesitated, but only for a moment. He took one sip, burnt his tongue, then took another. Tart and bitter, with just a hint of sweetness to remind you of what¡¯s around the corner. It¡¯s even way overhot¡ªjust like how mama used to make it¡­ He looked up at the teamaster with a nod of approval, lips curled in a lopsided smile. The older man maintained his stoic mask of a face, but gave another slight bow in acknowledgment. Zacarias took another sip, then remarked, ¡°You know, before I sat down, I thought I was in the mood for something stronger. But this¡­ this is right. This is as it should be.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you like it, sir.¡± ¡°Name¡¯s Zacarias, by the way. Though, apparently, I sometimes go by Zacko now. You are¡­?¡± ¡°Ebenezer Yama, at your service.¡± Ebenezer. Eben. The name did ring a bell, which made Zacarias recall that he¡¯d previously been acquainted with the proprietor of the Wayside Lotus. He quickly shook off a pang of embarrassment, knowing he¡¯d been in no state to remember much of anything on his last visit. ¡°Will your companion be joining you, sir?¡± The question caught Zacarias off guard, as he didn¡¯t realize that Eben already knew of Serac¡¯s arrival. But he supposed a good Lotus-keeper should always know who and where his guests were. ¡°I dunno, maybe? She sort of¡­ dances to the beat of her own drums. Besides, she¡¯s with your Seersmith now, so that should keep her busy for some time.¡± ¡°And why have you, sir, not made use of Beatrice¡¯s service?¡± Zacarias paused the hand with which he¡¯d brought the cup to his lips. He then took his next sip more slowly. ¡°Can¡¯t,¡± he said with forced lightness. ¡°In case you couldn¡¯t tell, I¡¯m an exile myself. Which means my VISAGE is already three Instrument levels higher than it should be. Well, I guess two now, once I move onto Pretjord.¡± ¡°Ah, I apologize for the careless question,¡± Ebenezer Yama said, with nary a sign of apology, ¡°but perhaps you¡¯ll indulge me another. How long?¡± This time, Zacarias set down his cup entirely. He eyed the inquisitive teamaster with another lopsided smile. ¡°How long what?¡± ¡°How long until whatever brought you here in the first place¡­ works itself out?¡± ¡°Are you serving me tea, Eben, or are you poking holes in my story?¡± ¡°A good teamaster should always know what his customer needs.¡± Zacarias sat motionless for some time, letting the teamaster¡¯s careless question steep in silence. His frozen smile was as a carved mask as he gave his answer. ¡°Never. Unless I go and fix it myself. Is that what you want to hear?¡± ¡°Is that what you want to believe?¡± At this, Zacarias let out a laugh, harsh and brief. He then reached for his teacup¡ªwith a mind to down the whole thing in one gulp, burnt throat be damned¡ªwhen something flashed in the corner of his eye. The picture on the TV had undergone a dramatic shift¡ªfrom a grainy, plodding black-and-white to a dynamic dance number with vibrant colors. As a Manesferan born and bred, he readily recognized the phenomenon¡ªa commercial break, the tried and tested method of getting souls everywhere to part with their hard-earned currency. As Zacarias Borges-Juventus, he also recognized the ad itself¡ªjust from its opening frames. And he realized immediately that was all he needed¡ªwanted¡ªto see today. He tore his eyes away from the TV, before the rest of the ad could play¡ªbefore the camera could change its angle and zoom in on the dancers themselves. He then shot to his feet, with his eyes swimming over his own reddened reflection in hibiscus. ¡°Problem with your tea, sir?¡± ¡°No.¡± Zacarias shook his head, voice hoarse. ¡°No, the tea was perfect. Exactly what I needed.¡± He turned abruptly and left, with nary a second glance at either the teamaster or his fellow patron. 71 (Book 1 Final). Seerflame 71. Seerflame [REVOLVER Spell: EMBALMER] [MP Cost: 15] [HP Cost: 100] [Spell Description: Chamber One imbuement. Deal REVOLVER base AV in Infernal damage type. If the shot depletes the target¡¯s HP, turn the target into an [Enlisted Husk] for 10 seconds or until the [Husk]¡¯s HP is also depleted.] [Addendum [ENLISTED HUSK]: A vestige of the smited Aberrant that follows the wielder¡¯s will while retaining its pre-smite attributes and abilities. All mitigations are reset to 0%. HP is reset to 300 or the [Husk]¡¯s pre-smite max HP, whichever is lower.] *** For all its humble design and cozy atmosphere, the Wayside Lotus proved to be sensory overload for a bumpkin freshly out of hell. Serac spent at least the first several hours of her between-Realms respite simply ogling at all the recreational options available to her. The teahouse, said to serve all manner of poison that¡ªaccording to Zacko, at least¡ªwould make her feel really good for a bit, then really shitty afterwards (no thanks, but if a chilled mai tai was on the menu, maybe they could talk!). The games room, where a Rakshasa could lose herself for Kalpas just learning all the intricate ways outrealmers passed the time (table tennis was her favorite, mostly because of how much better she was at it than Zacko!). There was even the hot spring, a constantly replenishing bath that was more healing for body and mind than any Waystation could hope to be (who knew it felt so good just to be rid of all the mud and gunk!). But the feature¡ªor rather the staff member¡ªthat most fascinated Serac was one Beatrice ¡®Bea¡¯ Sattva, also known as the Wayside¡¯s resident Seersmith. ¡°You made it all the way to your first ascension without learning what half your attributes do?¡± The (literally) doe-eyed Mriga woman shook her head in disbelief, with her majestic antlers swaying dangerously close to Serac¡¯s face. ¡°That smug-faced Manusya you¡¯re traveling with didn¡¯t think to teach you?¡± ¡°Zacko¡¯s not so bad once you get to know him!¡± Serac said cheerfully, even as she used up a bit of Stamina to dodge Bea¡¯s antlers. ¡°And it was sort of my own choice not to dig too much into the ¡®I-series¡¯ of attributes. I had enough on my plate as it was, and besides, now I¡¯ve got you to step up my tutorial!¡± ¡°Alright, buttercup, if you say so. But it¡¯s probably faster if I just show you. Here, let me see your piece?¡± Serac handed REVOLVER over to the Seersmith, upon which the six-shooter promptly disappeared into the latter¡¯s massive hand. If Serac had thought Zacko was a large specimen of a sentient soul, he had nothing on Bea Sattva, who, despite her antlers, furry coat, and other cervine features, was shaped more like a boulder than a deer. This boulder of a woman was dressed in a heavy-duty apron and short-sleeved shirt that further accentuated her mountainous muscles. The Seersmith¡¯s movements, however, were surprisingly nimble for someone so large and muscular. She deftly turned around and¡ªwithout warning¡ªdropped REVOLVER into a flaming forge that was almost as big as she was. For a Ksana, the Seersmith¡¯s forge as well as the whole of her workshop flashed with a bright, iridescent light. Serac felt her stomach drop to the floor, thinking that she¡¯d just allowed a complete stranger to destroy her Instrument. But the light receded to reveal a perfectly intact REVOLVER that hovered in midair, as if held up by the fire that raged underneath. The flames themselves had taken on a new color¡ªor multiple colors, to be precise. In fact, they appeared unable to make up their minds, cycling rapidly through black, green, amber, purple, red, white, then back to black and so on. The Mriga woman leaned back as if to admire the view, with her doe eyes reflecting the colors of the ¡®rainbow¡¯. ¡°Well, would you look at that?¡± she remarked with a self-satisfied smile. ¡°I thought there was something more than meets the eye with your little boomstick. Been doing this longer than most souls have been alive, but this is the first time I¡¯ve seen anything like it.¡± ¡°The colors¡­¡± Serac murmured, herself mesmerized by the fire. ¡°There are¡­ six of them, aren¡¯t there? Do they have something to do with the Six Realms of Mount Meru?¡± ¡°A sharp mind to go with your pretty face. No one could ever accuse the gods of being fair,¡± Bea quipped, though not with any malice. ¡°The vast majority of Instruments imbue the Seerflame with just the one aura type that matches the Realm where they were transmuted. In some rare cases, you might see two or at most three different auras for adjoining Realms. But all six? That¡¯s gotta be truly one of a kind.¡± Serac recalled Sublimity the Deva¡¯s indignant accusation that a ¡®Deific¡¯ Instrument shouldn¡¯t produce Infernal damage. Trippy Version 1 had said something about unlocking REVOLVER¡¯s potential in a ¡®step-wise manner¡¯. Six chambers and six Realms. She didn¡¯t need a sharp mind to figure out how it all fit together. ¡°Zacko¡¯s Instrument¡­¡± Serac suddenly remarked as if she remembered something. ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, VISAGE¡¯s two aspects produce imbuements of two different damage types: Erudite and Martial. Would that be one of the rare cases you mentioned?¡± ¡°Is that right? Well, no wonder he gets to be so smug, carrying around a valuable Instrument like that,¡± Bea said with visible surprise, turning to face Serac as she did. She then paused for a moment as her doe eyes took on a thoughtful gleam. ¡°And you two plan on going the distance with this partnership of yours, hey? A formidable duo if I¡¯ve ever seen one. I feel sorry for the poor souls who¡¯d stand in your way, Aberrant or otherwise. And even sorrier for¡­¡± The woman trailed off, causing Serac to ask, ¡°Sorrier for?¡± ¡°Never mind, buttercup. Let¡¯s focus on the fun stuff, shall we? Now, I want you to look at your boomstick again, but this time, try and see if Pathsight wants to tell you something.¡± Serac was nothing if not an eager student of the Path. She did as she was told, and was soon rewarded by an element of Pathsight that had hitherto been closed to her: [Designation: REVOLVER] [Instrument Class: DEIFIC] [Anchored Realm: NARAKA (Base)] [PHYSICAL Base AV: 113] [INFERNAL Base AV: 123] [ZEALOUS Base AV: 129] [PRIMAL Base AV: 124] [ERUDITE Base AV: 118] [MARTIAL Base AV: 118] [DEIFIC Base AV: 132] ¡°See them numbers?¡± Bea prompted. ¡°Any guesses as to what they represent?¡± ¡°[Physical base AV] is the damage output of one unimbued bullet,¡± Serac answered after only a moment¡¯s thought, ¡°and I¡¯m guessing the rest of the numbers are what happens when that same bullet is converted to the other damage types. Sheesh, you mean to tell me I¡¯d be pumping out almost 20 more points per Cartridge if I could just convert it to Deific?¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°There¡¯s an explanation for that too. But I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already figured it out.¡± ¡°The I-series,¡± Serac said, remembering why they were having this conversation in the first place. ¡°[Insight], [Integrity], and [Immanence]. For whatever reason, I started out with decent numbers in those attributes. I¡¯d assume that¡¯s what¡¯s propping up my Deific AV.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be correct in that assumption, buttercup. Each of the aura types receive their AV contributions from a different combination of attributes. Now that you¡¯ve looked into the Seerflame, you¡¯ll be able to see this information the next time you meditate. I¡¯ll let you figure out the exact combinations on your own, but I¡¯ll say this: judging from that Physical AV and how chummy your skin is with your bones, I¡¯d assume your [Substance] must be in the dumpster.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be correct in that assumption, Ms Seersmith. Speaking of, where do you come in on all this? You¡¯re not here just to acquaint a new Wayfarer with the Seerflame, are you?¡± ¡°That I¡¯m not,¡± Bea agreed good-naturedly, then picked up a hammer that lay next to the forge. The hammer too was huge¡ªabout the size of Serac¡¯s whole torso¡ªbut, in the Mriga woman¡¯s hand, it looked like a child¡¯s toy. ¡°Now, watch what happens when I do this.¡± Bea¡¯s muscles bulged as she brought down the hammer. From where Serac stood, it appeared to make solid contact with REVOLVER, producing a loud clank and more fireworks. Once again, Serac was forced to pick up her stomach off the floor, but by now, she¡¯d seen enough to trust that her Instrument was safe. Sure enough, REVOLVER remained hovering above the Seerflame with nary a scratch on it, while the Pathsighted overlay updated itself in real time. [Designation: REVOLVER] [Instrument Class: DEIFIC] [Anchored Realm: NARAKA -> PRETJORD (+1)] [PHYSICAL Base AV: 113 -> 124] [INFERNAL Base AV: 123 -> 136] [ZEALOUS Base AV: 129 -> 142] [PRIMAL Base AV: 124-> 137] [ERUDITE Base AV: 118 -> 130] [MARTIAL Base AV: 118 -> 130] [DEIFIC Base AV: 132 -> 145] ¡°Ohhh!¡± Serac clapped as though she¡¯d just watched a magic trick. ¡°So the Instruments have their own upgrade system, do they? I always wondered what the ¡®+¡¯ symbols meant.¡± ¡°Uh huh. Leveling your attributes or coming to me for upgrades between Realms¡ªthose are the two main ways to permanently up your AV numbers. But that¡¯s not all. Some of your spells might also be tied to your Instrument level. Have a looksie through yours and see if you can¡¯t find an example.¡± It didn¡¯t take long for Serac to find said example, given that it was in the very first place she looked¡ªher newest spell, unlocked from smiting the Bone Lord: [REVOLVER Spell: EMBALMER] [MP Cost: 15] [HP Cost: 100] [Spell Description: Chamber One imbuement. Deal REVOLVER base AV in Infernal damage type. If the shot depletes the target¡¯s HP, turn the target into an [Enlisted Husk] for 10 -> 12 seconds or until the [Husk]¡¯s HP is also depleted.] [Addendum [ENLISTED HUSK]: A vestige of the smited Aberrant that follows the wielder¡¯s will while retaining its pre-smite attributes and abilities. All mitigations are reset to 0% -> 5%. HP is reset to 300 -> 400 or the [Husk]¡¯s pre-smite max HP, whichever is lower.] ¡°Fancy.¡± Serac nodded, then looked up at Bea with an appreciative smile. ¡°Do you upgrade the Instruments of all the Wayfarers that come through here? By yourself? Must keep you really busy.¡± ¡°That it does. In fact, I¡¯m a bit backed up at the moment, so you¡¯ll have to wait around a few days for me to finish. Hope you guys aren¡¯t in any sort of hurry.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not. Well, not all of us are, anyway.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Never mind,¡± Serac said hurriedly, hoping her offhand comment hadn¡¯t further strained her relationship with a certain voice in her head. ¡°Take all the time you need, Ms Seersmith. Only the best for my boomstick!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. Now, as for the fee¡ª¡± ¡°Wait, there¡¯s a fee?¡± ¡°¡ªnormally, the upgrades would run you at least a few thousand ?, depending on the level, but¡­¡± Bea peered down at Serac with a conspiratorial smile. ¡°You know what? This first one¡¯s on the house. I like you, buttercup, and besides, I¡¯d be running afoul of my Oath if I didn¡¯t offer pro bono work for an Instrument of REVOLVER¡¯s caliber.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Never mind. You¡¯ll understand if you ever make it to Tidereign.¡± Exactly three days after that conversation, Serac received her freshly upgraded REVOLVER, complete with the escalated violence it promised. The Seersmith had even invented a speedloader, a clever device that¡ªwith some practice¡ªreduced Serac¡¯s full reload time to about a second. It worked by bundling the Cartridges in custom-built containers that could push all six bullets into the cylinder in one motion. If she wasn¡¯t already the sharpest shooter this side of the Sanzu River, she could now confidently say she was the quickest. The intervening days had been spent alternating from one delightful activity to another. Taking far more baths than necessary, dominating Zacko at table tennis, or just relaxing and not having to worry about Karma or Aberrants for a while. In fact, Serac was having so much fun that she almost wished Bea Sattva would be slower with her work. There¡¯d been at least one part of the Wayside experience that was less than perfectly pleasant. It was with regards to the Lotus-keeper himself, a man of indeterminate race (not even Zacko could tell for sure, and it felt a bit impolite to ask) called Ebenezer Yama. Serac didn¡¯t see much of the Lotus-keeper, given that he kept himself mostly to the teahouse. But what little she did see left her somewhat confused as to the man¡¯s attitude towards the Wayfarers. He seemed polite and helpful enough, but beneath that amiable exterior lurked a casual directness that verged on condescension. Zacko certainly seemed to harbor guarded feelings about the man he called Eben, and Serac more or less took her cues from her partner. In any case, a Wayfarer couldn¡¯t stray from her Path for too long, and it was soon time to move on. A quirk of the Wayside¡¯s layout was that both the entrance and the exit were located within a central courtyard that adjoined all of its facilities. Indeed, they were one and the same: an interdimensional ¡®portal¡¯ that was framed by bamboo slats. An unremarkable appearance for a powerful object¡ªbut, in the afterlife, such was the rule rather than the exception. To the naked eye, the portal¡¯s surface was solid and reflective. Standing before it felt like looking in a mirror, as Serac came face to face with her own slightly nervous smirk. But the physical quickly blended with the metaphysical, in the form of a Pathsighted roadsign: [Inter-Realm transfer active. Destination: PRETJORD] As was basically tradition at this point, Serac checked in with Zacko for a last-minute briefing. ¡°What do you think is waiting for us on the other side? We climbed a waterfall on our way here; do you think we¡¯ll be falling down one next?¡± ¡°Hmm, I don¡¯t know about that. If anything, it should drop us off at the ¡®lowest¡¯ part of the Realm, right? For Naraka, that was the Damnatorium. I really hope we don¡¯t have to break out of prison again.¡± Serac laughed, though not all that convincingly. Now that Zacko had mentioned it, prison¡ªor at least something a lot like it¡ªfelt like a distinct possibility. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s just get this over with before I chicken out.¡± ¡°Agreed. After you, princess.¡± Serac led with her REVOLVER hand and touched the mirror. Any illusion that it was a solid surface fell away instantly, as did Serac¡¯s own solid form as she phased out of the Lotic space and through to the physical world on the other side. And even before she could land on her feet and see with her own eyes, Pathsight provided the first clue to what awaited in the next leg of her journey: [PRETJORD Realm Boon unlocked: SYNTHESIS] [REVOLVER Spell unlocked] [Chamber Two: HARVEST] *** *** *** End of Book 1: Chains and Tribulations Stay tuned for Book 2: A Feast Without End 72. [INTERLUDE] Once in a Lifetime 72. [INTERLUDE] Once in a Lifetime Whenever Renate Sandvik swam, she did so without making waves. Like a phantom hidden in water, she remained unseen and unheard for as long as she needed. It¡¯d been a special talent of hers since childhood, one that had delighted her mother and confounded her father in equal measure. It was a talent to which, for much of her life, she herself had ascribed little value¡ªuntil it became imperative that she remain unseen and unheard for as long as possible. The border that separated Stamgard from Rotgard was¡ªas always¡ªunder heavy guard. An entire regiment of the Kronheer patrolled the circumference of the Trunk where it met the Roots. This included combat divers¡ªthe Frogmen, they were called, much to Renate¡¯s wry chagrin¡ªwho kept underwater watch over the Sanzu River¡¯s numerous distributaries. A common Rotgardian joke was that King Tyr put more effort into keeping would-be intruders out of Stamgard than the defense of his own palace. Perhaps Stamgardians would make the same joke were it not for their willful ignorance of what went on just several leagues below the comforts of their township. For Renate, however, the ¡®joke¡¯ hit too close to home for her to find much humor in it. But she also knew that cracks could be found in any defense. And she¡¯d been doing this long enough to have a good sense of which ones to test. This morning, the most fallible crack happened to be a fresh-faced Frogman who couldn¡¯t be more than a few months out of the academy. At least this was the first Renate had seen of him, and by now, she knew most of the border guards by their fins if not by their face. This barely-a-man happened to be a salmon-typed Yaksha (not a frog!). With a wetsuited body sleek, silvery, and well-built enough to make Renate curious¡ªjust a little¡ªabout the face under his diving helmet. She dispelled the thought just as quickly as it¡¯d surfaced, knowing this was no time to get distracted. Salmon Lad, as with most any Yaksha, wasn¡¯t as suited to the underwater life as his hydrodynamic appearance might suggest. Case in point was the breathing tube that came out of his helmet and was fed ashore, to be monitored by his likely more senior partner. It spoke to the irony that all Yakshas, no matter how much they liked to style themselves as water sprites, were first and foremost landbound souls¡ªmeant for the slopes of Mount Meru rather than the currents of the Sanzu River. Renate Sandvik herself was no exception to the rule. But she, unlike most Yakshas, had found a way to break the limitations of her biology. For she was a Wayfarer¡ªand the best use of her Zealous Instrument was to help her adapt to environmental challenges. [Pearl of IMMERSION] She unclipped a Pearl from her lanyard and downed its contents, at the same time taking care not to swallow too much river water. The effect was instantaneous. Her [Oxygen] gauge filled back up to its maximum, then resumed its descent¡ªat a much slower rate than prior to her imbibement. That should give me at least a half-hour or so; more than long enough to get the job done. She glided closer to Salmon Lad, sending nary a ripple through a thicket of turtlegrass that covered the riverbed. Her movements were smooth, practiced, and¡ªcrucially¡ªfree from the restrictions of a breathing tube. When she got as close as she dared¡ªwith Salmon Lad still none the wiser¡ªshe reached for the metallic handle that jutted over her right shoulder. DREDGER unfurled itself from her back, producing with it a hint of what might almost be ¡®waves¡¯. The combat diver finally did spot her then, and he hurriedly turned his helmeted gaze downward, along with the point of his harpoon gun. Too little too late. [Auxiliary Technique: ELEMENTAL SURGE] Renate swung DREDGER with both hands. Salmon Lad, along with his harpoon, disappeared into a twisting confusion of currents, bubbles, and uprooted grass. Renate herself dove under the vortex and glided past unharmed. There was a time, years ago, when she might¡¯ve been clumsy enough to be caught by an underwater mayhem of her own creation. But no longer. She¡¯d been doing this long enough to be well past rookie mistakes like that. Yet, as she swam through to the other side, a second harpoon whizzed past, dangerously close to her hooded head. She spun back around in a mad rush, DREDGER at the ready¡­ then relaxed again as soon as she saw what had happened. Salmon Lad was still twisting and rolling inside her [Elemental Surge]. The rookie Frogman hadn¡¯t been¡ªand still wasn¡¯t¡ªin any state to fight back, but he must¡¯ve taken a remote prayer of a shot that had, by some miracle, nearly found its target. Beginner¡¯s luck; could happen to anyone, I guess. Knowing she was under no real threat, Renate turned upstream and swam on, making for another thicket that would once again mask her location. Salmon Lad¡¯s partner would no doubt be readying for a reinforcement dive, but by then, she would be well out of sight and¡ªwhether the Frogmen liked it or not¡ªout of their jurisdiction. For the only thing the Kronheer hated more than letting a smuggler through was alerting the townspeople to the border conflict. Better for a Rotter to occasionally slip through the net and cause a bit of nuisance than for the whole sordid affair to dominate the public consciousness. All of which worked out in Renate¡¯s favor, as she only needed to travel about a mile upstream before the Frogmen gave up the search. From there, it was¡ªas they say¡ªsmooth sailing. Renate rejoined the main body of the Sanzu in less than ten minutes, giving her plenty of time to spare. Indeed, the branch she¡¯d chosen was low-traffic enough that she even allowed herself to come up for air, refilling the [Oxygen] gauge and buying herself even more time. As she neared Stamgard¡¯s Town Market, the onshore activities gained in noise and density. The Stammers, as a collective, were nothing if not industrious, and many of them were already up and about despite the earliness of the hour. But if Renate had her way, this again should work in her favor, as it¡¯d help to keep her ¡®targets¡¯ distracted. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Palmr Jorgensen was a heavy-set, catfish-typed businessman who¡ªby the grace of King Tyr himself¡ªhad been given the reins to the Town Market and its growing rotation of vendors. He himself owned and operated one of the storefronts, presently guarded by a pair of dour-faced sturgeons who were even bigger than he was. Normally, a cautious thief like Renate wouldn¡¯t have bothered with Jorgen & Sons, even if it was the best-stocked vendor in all of Pretjord. But, much to her consternation, her days of picking and choosing her victims had come to an end, thanks to Palmr¡¯s recently cornering the market on the one product she couldn¡¯t do without. She sighed inwardly at the thought, nearly sending up bubbles that might¡¯ve given away her position. She pushed it down, knowing this was no time to get distracted. Whether it was due to arrogance or complacency, Palmr Jorgensen kept his vials of the Realmtree Dew inside a display box, up front and center of his store. Maximum visibility for his most coveted and expensive product. He must¡¯ve had great faith in his sturgeon musclemen, and perhaps rightly so. But even the most faithworthy enforcers couldn¡¯t catch a thief if they couldn¡¯t see her coming. The plan of approach was simple. There was a prominent knot on this part of the Realmtree that rose over the Town Market like a natural enclosure, covered in moss and vines and all manner of foliage to aid a master in concealment. One vine in particular hung just low enough and in just the right spot to bring Renate within DREDGER range of the display box in question. All she needed was to scoop it up and hightail it out of there before the Sturgeon Thugs could react. Of course, for that to work, she first needed to resurface, go ashore, and climb the knot¡ªall while undetected. Her best bet was for everyone in the Town Market to proceed as they normally would: busy and preoccupied with the respective objects of their desire. So far so good. The Stammers were nothing if not industrious, and the marketgoers were all busy and preoccupied with the items on their shopping list¡ªtheir next fix to sate their [Hunger]. So long as nothing out of the ordinary were to happen now, the coast was clear for Renate to make good on her plan. Nothing out of the ordinary like, for example, a pair of complete outsiders showing up out of nowhere and making waves. Splash! Renate lost sight of her chosen landing spot as her entire vision filled with an explosive confusion of sprays, bubbles, and uprooted grass. From amidst the explosion emerged two humanoid figures. One of them, a woman, had her eyes tightly shut as she flung her arms about in a wild panic. The other, a man, had his arm around his companion in an apparent attempt to keep her afloat. The woman¡¯s most noticeable feature was a pair of onyx horns that crowned her terrified face. Rakshasa. And the man¡ªburly, hornless, and scaleless¡ªwas a¡­ Manusya? Now, that was a rare sight. Right this Ksana, however, Renate couldn¡¯t find it in her to be impressed by the (quite literally) once-in-a-lifetime event that unfolded before her. Instead, she froze in dismay and bubbled over with rage at the sheer magnitude of her bad luck. For not only was this the first time in centuries that outrealmers had arrived in Pretjord¡¯s midst, but they also couldn¡¯t have chosen a more spectacular way to interfere with Renate¡¯s business. Even now, the Rakshasa woman babbled and shouted incoherently as she fought against her own lack of buoyancy. The Manusya man was doing his best to calm her down and drag her ashore, but it was plain for all to see that he himself wasn¡¯t a strong swimmer. It would be a matter of minutes¡ªperhaps even seconds¡ªbefore both of them drowned. And that was when Renate¡¯s anger was tempered by a entirely different thought. What would happen to these saps if they were to die right now? As a seasoned Wayfarer herself, she knew just how vulnerable and killable her own kind could be. Judging from the look of things, these were the newcomers¡¯ first moments in Pretjord, which meant they wouldn¡¯t have had a chance to install nor tether themselves to a Waystation. While Renate couldn¡¯t confirm it from personal experience, she¡¯d heard horror stories about untethered souls who¡¯d wander the Interstitium for years, decades, or even centuries before the universe bothered to find them another place to reconstitute. Some might never come back, lost forever to a primordial soup of endless time and forgotten memories. Even putting all that aside, drowning is just a terrible way to go¡­ None of this, of course, was of Renate¡¯s concern. It certainly wasn¡¯t her problem to solve. Any sensible thief in her position would suppress both her sympathy for and annoyance with the hapless newcomers and instead improvise a new plan for her own benefit. And yet¡­ Renate shifted her gaze for a second, and saw that the spectacle had already attracted a crowd of gawkers. Marketgoers, vendors, and even Palmr¡¯s Sturgeon Thugs flocked to the shore as moths to a flame. Every last one of them would¡¯ve recognized what Renate already understood¡ªthat if these Wayfarers were left to their own devices, they would drown to death. Come on, Renate silently urged her fellow Yakshas. Come on, why aren¡¯t any of you jumping in to save them? Where¡¯s your Pretjordian hospitality now? Where¡¯s your precious neighborly spirit? It would be child¡¯s play for any grown Yaksha to rescue a pair of would-be drowners. Yet, none of the bystanders acted. And Renate knew why. They were scared. Scared of the new, the unknown, the undefined. Scared of anything that hadn¡¯t been vetted and ¡®taste-tested¡¯ by an authority figure they could trust. Just like they were scared of her. When Renate Sandvik finally made waves, she did so because she couldn¡¯t stop herself. First, a swig from [Pearl of STRENGTH] to put a little extra oomph behind her swing. Then she gripped DREDGER with both hands and unleashed another [Elemental Surge]. The ensuing geyser shot the Wayfarers high into the air, before they arced back down into the heart of the now scrambling crowd. You¡¯ll suffer a bit of fall damage, but trust me, it¡¯s much preferable to drowning. With the two outrealmers yeeted to safety, Renate turned her thoughts back onto her own mission. Her hopes were already dwindling, and a cursory scan of the shore confirmed her fears. Too much attention and hubbub. Too many eyes. And among them, a beady and suspicious pair that belonged to a heavy-set catfish. There was no choice. She had to abort. No matter how urgent her mission. There was simply too much to lose. Renate Sandvik turned her finless tail to make her downstream escape. Her mind roiled with the injustice of it all. And her heart filled with remorse for the friend she was about to let down. 73. The Life Aquatic with Serac Edin 73. The Life Aquatic with Serac Edin Serac Edin¡¯s first impression of Pretjord¡ªthat middle child of the three Lowly Realms¡ªwas etched by text that flashed through her consciousness. [PRETJORD Realm Boon unlocked: SYNTHESIS] [REVOLVER Spell unlocked] [Chamber Two: HARVEST] Then, her second impression of it was drowned out by the frigid water that flooded her airways. As a hell bumpkin whose home Realm had been an arid wasteland for centuries, Serac was utterly unfamiliar with how she ought to behave when totally submerged in a liquid medium. Her first instinct was to cough out the water she¡¯d swallowed, only for more water to rush into her landbound body. Rookie mistake! The intense discomfort of suffocation, coupled with the realization that she was completely out of her depth, pushed her into full panic mode. She shut her eyes, as if turning a blind eye to the calamity could save her from it. Then she kicked and flailed, grasping for anything solid to hold onto. What she found, in the end, was Zacko¡¯s hand, grabbing hold of hers with a firm, reassuring strength. I¡¯m saved! Relief flooded in place of water. I knew I could count on Zacko! He always comes through for¡ªwhoop! Serac¡¯s body was suddenly caught within a tremendous pulling force¡ªorders of magnitude stronger than what even a NINEFOLD master could produce. All of her insides rocked and churned as the flimsy vessel that contained them shot through a watery medium at what felt like light speed. Through it all, Zacko held tight, and Serac, by some miracle, managed to hang on for dear life. What fresh hell is this? Who knew the lowest part of Pretjord is a prison¡ªa ¡®watery prison¡¯, that is! Yet, no amount of Serac¡¯s deranged downplaying of her predicament could mask its reality. And Pathsight made sure to let her know about it: [Wayfarer Status Effect: HYPOXIA] With her eyes shut and her senses numbed by the frigid cold, Serac was now aware of only two things: Zacko¡¯s hand¡­ and a brand-new Pathsighted overlay that warned of her impending demise. A status gauge with a light-green hue had popped up, but instead of ticking up, this one plummeted downwards¡ªat a rapid rate that seemed to perfectly mirror Serac¡¯s urgent need for breathable air. But there was nothing to be done. Whatever force carried the Wayfarers now was undeniable¡ªtoo strong even for Zacko to resist. Serac could only pray that its destination would be at least somewhat drier than this. Well, she got an answer to her prayer. Though whether or not it¡¯d be an improvement to her situation was a different matter. The pull transitioned abruptly into a push, expelling the Wayfarers out of one watery medium, only to dump them into another. Serac felt herself (painfully) break through a tangible surface, as the top half of her tasted the sweet embrace of air. Dragless, free-moving, oxygenated air. She sucked greedily, acting on the primal knowledge that her life depended on just how much of her lungs she could fill with anything that wasn¡¯t water. She thought she saw something in Pathsight move then, but she couldn¡¯t pay it any mind, preoccupied as she was with the immediate task of survival. The presence of air¡ªas well as the relief it provided¡ªwas short-lived. Serac felt herself being pulled back into the water almost immediately. This time, however, she couldn¡¯t point the finger to some mysterious external force. No, she only had herself to blame. Or, more precisely, the dense body composition that was characteristic of Rakshasa biology¡ªone decidedly incompatible with aquatic life. She was sinking, weighed down as she was by her own onyx bones. Help! She thought she¡¯d screamed as she went right back to kicking and flailing. I can¡¯t swim! How could she? It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d had any practice! And that was assuming she was even physically capable of swimming. She would¡¯ve rather fought a thousand Bone Lords if it meant she could do it on solid ground. Somewhere amidst the desperate struggle, a voice shouted to be heard over Serac¡¯s screams. It was Zacko, sounding considerably less calm than his usual self. Even though he was right beside her, Serac was too far gone to understand a single word he said. Sinking. Drowning. Dying. She could feel the strength drain from her with every kick and every flail. She understood with a fraught sense of certainty that this was the end to her journey in Pretjord¡ªand she hadn¡¯t even started! I just hope I don¡¯t have to do the whole Naraka thing all over again¡­ That was when the water ¡®shifted¡¯ again. It felt different still from the sheer volume of the ¡®pull¡¯ or the heartless violence of the ¡®push¡¯. Water was still water, but it now moved with delicacy, intricacy, and intent. A conscious, sentient mind now took hold of Serac¡¯s watery prison, and their palpable presence compelled her to open her eyes. Only for a Ksana, but she saw them. A hooded, humanoid figure that lurked within the turbulence. With a large, polelike object¡ªa weapon?¡ªin their hands. And only for a Ksana, but Serac¡¯s attention snapped onto the face that hid beneath the hood. Skin of vivid pink, the likes of which should¡¯ve been confined to an artist¡¯s imagination. Round, wide-set eyes that seemed a little too large for their frame. And somehow, these strange visual signals together stimulated the part of Serac¡¯s brain that recognized faces she¡¯d seen before. Froggy? However, the Ksana really did last for only a Ksana. Before Serac had any hope to make sense of what she was seeing, her world filled with sprays and bubbles. In nearly the same instant, her whole body was ejected out of the water and into the sky. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The relief of no longer suffocating to death would¡¯ve been tempered by the fear of falling to death instead¡­ had it not been for the fact that Serac was well beyond the point of caring. It didn¡¯t help that, even if she did care, she was too weakened to do anything about it. [588!] The fall damage took away half of her max HP, yet even that was a small price to pay in comparison to the pain of the impact. Winded, exhausted, and smarting everywhere (especially in her butt!), Serac remained perfectly still for a good minute. Despite the pain, she relished the relative safety of her new situation. The ground beneath her was solid and firm (as her buttocks could well attest to!), and with each unimpeded breath, she could feel herself recovering in both physical strength and mental acuity. At some point, she¡¯d come back to herself enough to notice the other changes to her surroundings. For one thing, she wasn¡¯t alone. There was Zacko, of course, who even now let out a labored grunt as he pushed himself to a sitting position. But there were also other souls here. Many more. Perhaps a hundred more, if Serac¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t deceive her. As she gingerly picked herself up, she saw that she and Zacko were surrounded by a veritable throng of bodies. Then, her eyes widened in shock and wonder as this latest avalanche of visual signals stimulated the part of her brain that processed the new, the unknown, and the undefined. Of all souls in the vicinity, Serac and Zacko were the only ones drenched in water. Yet, it was clear even for a hell bumpkin to see that these perfectly dry onlookers were far more suited to the aquatic life. Glistening scales, spiny fins, and diverse body types. These Pretjordian locals, to a one, exhibited anatomical features that marked them out as fish-people. Even the parts of their face that might¡¯ve passed for hair or beards kept with the aquatic theme. For upon closer inspection, Serac saw that these were made up of bristles, whiskers, algae, and even some elongated appendages that could only be described as tentacles. All this was made ever stranger by the fact that the fish-people were all bipedal, standing upright on two very-much-separate feet. They were also clothed, and in a manner that didn¡¯t deviate too drastically from their neighbors one Realm below. Where Narakites wore tunics and robes stitched together from whatever rubbish they could get their hands on, these Pretjordians sported a rather similar fashion¡ªjust with much nicer material: dyed fabric, woven jute, and the like. The sight of it might¡¯ve been an even bigger surprise for Serac had she not primed herself first by meeting Beatrice Sattva¡ªa deer-person who also dressed and walked like a Rakshasa or a Manusya. In any case, the shock had been substantial enough to render her mute, as she gawked at the strangers with her mouth agape. Mute and also, as it turned out, a little deaf. ¡°¡ªokay? Hello? Miss? Do you not understand what we¡¯re saying?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Serac felt a hand grab her by the armpit and pull her up. This gave her a little fright, until she realized that it was just Zacko helping her to her feet. The Manusya himself, however, kept his gaze pointed to the large group of strangers, with eyes narrowed in that slow-to-trust way of his. With Zacko standing to his full height, many in the crowd backed off a step. Serac couldn¡¯t blame them, considering these Yakshas¡ªat least on average¡ªappeared to be just about her own compact size. There were exceptions to the rule, however, and they stuck out like sore thumbs. Two fellows in particular¡ªboth of whom featured prominent, bony notches along the sides of their muscular necks¡ªtipped the scale toward ¡®enormous¡¯, towering over even Zacko. They flanked another man who was no slouch himself¡ªand whose rotund, corpulent figure reminded Serac somewhat of a Hellspawn Jailer. His face was also rather distinctive, with thick, mottled lips framed by impressive whiskers that lent him an air of authority if not quite wisdom. But the man that stood at the front of the crowd and spoke to the Wayfarers was much smaller¡ªand therefore much less intimidating. ¡°Are you hurt at all?¡± Upon a second listen, the man sounded rather youthful, though it was hard to tell the exact degree of maturity from his scaly, piscine appearance. Then his whole, pale-yellow face lit up with an excitable smile. ¡°What am I saying? You guys are Wayfarers, aren¡¯t you? Nothing can hurt you!¡± Serac and Zacko exchanged a look. This of course wasn¡¯t the first time their Wayfaring status drew a positive reaction from strangers. But perhaps none before had greeted them with such exuberant admiration. ¡°I think we¡¯re alright,¡± Serac found herself replying, though a little timidly by her standards, ¡°and we¡¯ll be even better once we find a Waystation.¡± She could, of course, set one down herself. But it also couldn¡¯t hurt to save the [Privilege] for a rainy day. So, she went on to ask, ¡°Don¡¯t happen to know of one nearby, do you?¡± ¡°You¡¯re in luck!¡± the pale-yellow man/boy enthused. ¡°We¡¯re right next to a Hubstation. Come on, let me show you the way.¡± ¡°Sounds good,¡± Serac murmured absent-mindedly, even as she scanned the faces among the crowd, ¡°but first, which one of you do we have to thank?¡± ¡°Thank? What do you mean?¡± ¡°One of you threw us out of the water, didn¡¯t you? Saved us from drowning. A pink-skinned¡­ I wanna say woman? Is she here?¡± At this, the man/boy¡¯s smile faltered. And if Serac weren¡¯t mistaken, the crowd took another collective step back, just as they broke out in animated whispers. Serac and Zacko exchanged another look¡ªhers with a slight frown and his with one eyebrow raised. Did I say something I shouldn¡¯t have? What¡¯s with the weird reaction? ¡°The Finless.¡± The whispers stopped on a dime, as all eyes turned in unison to the speaker. It was the large, whiskered man¡ªhe of the corpulent figure and thick, mottled lips. And judging from how the crowd reacted to his voice, Serac hadn¡¯t been far off about his being an ¡®authority¡¯ figure. ¡°Do you speak truly, Wayfarer?¡± the whiskered man now addressed Serac directly. ¡°Did you really see the Finless lurking in these waters? And you claim it was she who saved you?¡± ¡°Well, I mean, I don¡¯t know her name, but¡­ sure. I did see someone pink and maybe frog-like¡ªwait, am I allowed to say that? And yes, she saved me and Zacko, alright. I don¡¯t know how she did it, but she yeeted us good.¡± The whispers started up again in earnest. Or rather, the crowd grew so animated that they were practically shouting over each other. Serac¡¯s frown only deepened, as she detected something distinctly akin to fear in the people¡¯s chatters. Suddenly, the pale-yellow man/boy broke out in laughter. ¡°What a silly guppy you are, Wayfarer!¡± he said in between his snickering. ¡°Even if it were true that the Finless was here just now, why would she help anyone, let alone a pair of outrealmers?¡± The man/boy¡¯s outburst was followed by a chorus of nervous laughter. This did little to smooth out Serac¡¯s frown, as she recognized the phenomenon for what it was. These people would rather laugh it off than believe that Lady Pink was here without them knowing. From the corner of her eye, Serac saw the large, whiskered man nod to his even larger companions. The twin towers then stuck out like sore thumbs as they turned and made themselves scarce. Serac didn¡¯t know anything about anything, yet the sight of this exchange gave her a strange sense of foreboding. And she might have even yelled out to stop the whiskered man¡­ if it weren¡¯t for her own stomach, which chose this moment to rumble. Serac froze, caught unawares by the utterly novel sensation. Anxious¡ªperhaps even terrified¡ªshe looked to Zacko for reassurance, as she carefully placed a hand upon her tummy. Her empty tummy, which very clearly craved for something to fill it. And only then did Serac realize that her [Hypoxia] effect was long gone, along with the light-green bar that responded to the amount of air in her lungs. But in its place, she played host to a new status effect, complete with a separate gauge of its own: [Wayfarer Status Effect: HUNGER] 74. Hungry Hungry Zacko 74. Hungry Hungry Zacko ¡°Miss Serac, what¡¯s hell like?¡± The cheerful question came from Petter Svensen, he of the pale-yellow face and dark-blue stripes around his head and neck (typed after a mackerel, as Serac had since learned). Presently, he skipped ahead of the freshly ascended Wayfarers, as he led them deeper into a forest at the edge of town. ¡°Uh, let¡¯s see¡­¡± Serac tried to give her local guide his due attention, as was her nature. It didn¡¯t come as naturally to her as usual, however, what with her empty stomach making its impatient demands. ¡°Well, it¡¯s certainly a lot hotter and a lot smellier. Not as much color, either. Mostly just black or different shades of red. I¡¯m used to it, but it might come as a shock for anyone that grew up around so many¡­ trees and rivers. Or is it one big tree and one big river? I¡¯m still not too clear on how¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s both, miss!¡± Petter declared happily, clearly delighted to be of use to the Wayfarers. ¡°The one big Sanzu River flows down the one big Realmtree through its three strata. There¡¯s Krongard¡ªthe Crown¡ªat the top, with King Tyr and his palace. Stamgard¡ªthe Trunk¡ªwhich is where we are, by the way, where the common folk live and ply their trades and whatnot. Then there¡¯s Rotgard¡ªthe Roots¡ªbelow us, which is where all the thieves and ne¡¯er-do-wells wash up. I¡¯ve never been myself, of course, and I¡¯d also suggest you two to keep away, Miss Serac and Mr Zacko¡ª¡± ¡°Zacarias.¡± ¡°¡ªahem, right. Mr Zacarias. Well, as I was saying, Miss Serac, it¡¯s both. The Sanzu River breaks off into hundreds if not thousands of branches on its way down to the Netherpool. That¡¯s what we call the collection of water at the bottom of the Realmtree¡ªnot that I¡¯ve seen it myself. And the Realmtree itself is covered with its own vegetation¡ªlike the forest we¡¯re in now.¡± Serac, who¡¯d been side-eyeing Zacko since his earlier interruption, turned back to Petter at the end of his spiel. ¡°This¡­ Netherpool,¡± she said with some trepidation. ¡°You say it¡¯s at the very bottom of Pretjord? You wouldn¡¯t know anything about it sucking Wayfarers in and spitting them back out a ways up the tree, would you?¡± ¡°No, Miss!¡± Petter¡¯s round eyes went even rounder. ¡°As far as I¡¯m aware, you two are the first Wayfarers to come up from Naraka in a hot minute. Even if the Netherpool really did what you describe, Miss, we Stammers wouldn¡¯t have a clue about it. How could we?¡± ¡°Alright, enough babbling about things you¡¯ve no clue about,¡± Zacko cut in, irritation coarsening his every word. ¡°How about you focus on your job, hey? You better not be leading us on a wild goose chase.¡± ¡°A wild guppy chase? I wouldn¡¯t dream of it, Mr Zacarias!¡± ¡°Yeah, Zacko, what¡¯s your problem?¡± Serac finally snapped, scowling at her partner. ¡°You keep having a go at Petey when he¡¯s been nothing but helpful! Did you wake up on the wrong side of the lotus or something?¡± ¡°My problem is I haven¡¯t had a proper meal in¡ªoh, what is it?¡ªhalf a year now? And now this joke of a Realm expects me to eat for sustenance. If Fish Boy here really wants to help us out, maybe he could let us fillet and grill him? I¡¯ve heard mackerels go really nice with salt and¡ª¡± That was when Serac slapped Zacko, open-handed and right across his face. [24!] The Manusya reeled, but only for a moment before he snapped upright and let out a seething snarl. He glared back at his assailant, wild-eyed. The open aggression that emanated from Zacko now surprised Serac even more than the fact she¡¯d slapped him in the first place. Such was the ferocity of a NINEFOLD master¡¯s rage that, for a brief Ksana, Serac was nearly cowed into submission. But she gritted her teeth and stood her ground, sensing that neither of them were feeling nor acting like their normal selves. ¡°Enough!¡± Her shout echoed into the forest. ¡°Not another word out of you unless it¡¯s an apology to Petey! Something¡¯s off about you, and maybe it¡¯s this [Hunger] messing with your head, but that¡¯s no excuse to be a giant asshole!¡± Zacko stopped his seething then, but his expression didn¡¯t soften one bit. As the Wayfarers squared off for an angry staring contest, it was their local guide who broke the stalemate. ¡°If¡­ if it¡¯s any help, Mr Zacarias,¡± Petter spoke timidly, bereft of his earlier cheer, ¡°I should still have some rabbit jerky on me. I was saving it for dinner, but you¡­ you could probably do with the topping up more than me.¡± Petter rummaged around inside his linen tunic before pulling out a tightly held fist. He then unfurled it to reveal grayish, stringy morsels of an unidentifiable meat product. It was a truly pitiful sight. Not even a hell bumpkin on an empty stomach could find it appetizing. Yet, judging from Petter¡¯s wistful gaze, he was clearly parting with something precious to him. Zacko stared at the sadness jerky for a second or two, then let out a deep sigh. With it, the tension in the air deflated in an instant. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Keep your dinner, Pete,¡± he spoke in a low, defeated mumble, ¡°and I¡¯m sorry for the awful things I said. Mama always scolded me for getting too cranky when I¡¯m hungry. But Serac¡¯s right, that¡¯s no excuse for acting the way I did. Let¡¯s just¡­ get this thing over with so we can all go eat.¡± Petter looked to Serac as if for confirmation. She gave it with a strained smile and a curt nod. The mackerel man didn¡¯t seem to mind her brusque manners, however, as he smiled from earhole to earhole and stuffed the jerky back inside his tunic. ¡°Of course, Mr Zacarias! Come on, follow me. We shouldn¡¯t be too far now.¡± With that, he turned and bounded into a pine thicket, hopping over the gnarly undergrowth as if it wasn¡¯t there. Serac and Zacko, weakened and distracted by [Hunger], followed at a somewhat sluggish pace. The Wayfarers were¡ªfor the lack of a better word¡ªon a quest. It¡¯d been assigned to them by none other than the erstwhile whiskered man, a catfish-typed Yaksha called Palmr Jorgensen. Large, bossy, and more than a little haughty, he¡¯d been the one to take charge of the ¡®welcoming committee¡¯ and help the Wayfarers get their initial bearings. Despite Palmr¡¯s minimalist answers and borderline derisive attitude, Serac managed to learn a lot from him. Like, for example, that the water in which she¡¯d nearly drowned was the main body of the Sanzu River that flowed through the heart of Stamgard. That she and Zacko had landed in the middle of the Town Market, complete with a Hubstation and busy with townspeople shopping for food. Food, as it turned out, was the name of the game here in Pretjord. The way Palmr told it, all souls in this Realm¡ªWayfaring, Anchored, Aberrant, or otherwise¡ªwere subject to [Hunger] and its endlessly draining hourglass. Pretjordians didn¡¯t eat or drink for pleasure (though it certainly couldn¡¯t hurt for the food to taste good); they did it for survival¡ªpure and simple. When the Wayfarers became aware of their own [Satiety] gauge (a creamy orange bar that also ticked down rather than up), Serac¡¯s was already down to its last third, which certainly explained the rumbling of her stomach. Zacko had it even worse, with only about a tenth of his bar left, which explained (but didn¡¯t excuse!) his foul mood. The locals had tried to offer a possible reason for the stark difference¡ªsomething about body types, biological differences, and ¡®basal metabolic rates¡¯. It was all a bit too jargony for Serac¡¯s hell bumpkin head, but she did understand the important part, which was that both she and Zacko needed to eat¡ªand they needed to do it soon. ¡°Don¡¯t be absurd, Wayfarer!¡± Palmr Jorgensen¡¯s whiskers had billowed with laughter when Serac asked if the townspeople might spare a little of their food, just to tide things over. ¡°There are no handouts here! We Stamgardians take pride in the bartering traditions the great King Tyr has upheld for centuries. Do not presume yourselves and your precious Path to be above the law of the land. You will earn your keep like everyone else¡­ and indeed, I¡¯ve just the task in mind to get you started.¡± The ¡®task¡¯ pointed them into the nearby Hevnerskog, a pine forest home to all manner of wildlife¡ªincluding Aberrants that fed on Yaksha flesh, among other assorted delicacies. The Wayfarers were to exterminate a pack of the Aberrants that had recently taken residence, and in exchange, they were promised a hearty meal upon their return. Palmr, being the meticulous business-catfish that he was, also demanded that the Wayfarers bring along (and protect) a ¡®witness¡¯ who¡¯d corroborate their smiting. Petter the mackerel was the only (but highly eager) volunteer, and¡ªafter a moment¡¯s sneering consideration¡ªPalmr okayed the arrangement. That was how the unlikely trio ended up wading into the forest together¡ªPetter with his skips and hops, and the Wayfarers with their trudging steps weighed down by [Hunger]. And it was only after several more minutes of silent marching that Serac suddenly thought to ask what now seemed like an obvious question. ¡°Hey, wait a second,¡± she wrung out her words, strained by fatigue, ¡°I get that this [Hunger] thing is a big deal. But¡­ what actually happens to us if we just don¡¯t eat? Like, say I let this orange bar run down¡­ then what?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know anything about no orange bar, Miss Serac, though that does sound delicious! All I can tell you is if I don¡¯t eat, then I starve, and if I starve for too long, then I¡¯d be as cooked as the jerky in my pocket.¡± ¡°Okay, does that mean, like, death? Turning into Souldust? Have you seen anyone ¡®starve for too long¡¯, Petey?¡± Petter stopped in his tracks and looked back at Serac, suddenly dead serious. ¡°Oh, yes, Miss,¡± he spoke in a hushed murmur, ¡°I¡¯ve seen it, alright. And it ain¡¯t pretty, I¡¯ll tell you that for free.¡± Serac frowned at this, still not quite comprehending. That was when the voice in her head stepped in to supplement the discussion. ¡°Do you remember, Wayfarer, what the Manusya once said, back when First Hope was still called Last Sorrow?¡± Trippy spoke in his measured monotone. ¡°That every Realm contains a certain theme that dominates the collective consciousness of its resident souls. In Naraka, it was the idea of penitence. Here in Pretjord, the ¡®theme¡¯ is arguably even simpler, it being¡ª¡± ¡°Hunger,¡± Serac stated the obvious, then added, ¡°Are you trying to say that the effects of [Hunger] on Pretjordians would be similar to how Narakites were shaped and influenced by penitence? But then, that would mean¡­¡± The mention of ¡®Last Sorrow¡¯ took Serac back¡ªback to a time before the Hopers had anything to hope for. She remembered their dire ¡®prayer¡¯ circles and their self-inflicted torture. Pazu bashing his head in until his horns shattered¡ªand if he were left alone, he would¡¯ve kept destroying himself until¡­ Serac gasped as realization dawned. ¡°Frenzy,¡± it was Zacko who voiced the answer, having come to the same understanding. ¡°This joke of a Realm can¡¯t be satisfied just starving us to death. They have to turn us into zombies instead! Just wonderful. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever want to leave.¡± Serac¡¯s brow furrowed with genuine concern as she eyed her companion. Even now, the Manusya had a kind of faraway look to him as he swayed in place, looking very much vulnerable despite his sturdy frame. How much time did he have left? How much time before¡ª ¡°Enough!¡± Serac tried to keep her voice steady. ¡°Not another word out of you unless it¡¯s to celebrate our victory. Petey, lead the way, and hurry. Let¡¯s get this thing over with so we can all go eat.¡± 75. New Spells, New Me 75. New Spells, New Me [REVOLVER Spell: HARVEST] [MP Cost: 20] [Satiety Cost (PRETJORD alternative resource): 5] [Spell Description: Chamber Two imbuement. Deal half of REVOLVER base AV in Zealous damage. When it hits a Mob-class Aberrant, the target becomes [Earmarked]. [Addendum [EARMARKED]: When the target is smited, it leaves behind a unique part of itself as a consumable ingredient.] *** ¡°What¡¯s wrong, princess? Why¡¯d you stop walking?¡± Serac tuned out of Pathsight to rejoin the land of the honestly living. A faint gleam remained in her eyes as she hurried to catch up with Zacko and Petter. ¡°Sorry! Finally remembered to read up on my new spell, and¡­ let me say, it does sound pretty interesting.¡± ¡°Yeah? How so?¡± Deeper into the Hevnerskog, the pine trees grew thick and tall, all but shutting out the daylight. The forest itself seemed to have grown quieter, which only made the Wayfarers hyper-focus on their growing [Hunger]. ¡°Says here I can [Harvest] ¡®consumable ingredients¡¯ from the critters we smite,¡± Serac explained, ¡°and given what we¡¯ve learned so far, that can only mean one thing, right? We could cook our own food!¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Zacko said mildly, never one to count his chickens before they hatched. ¡°Assuming you¡¯re right, that only makes it more imperative that we find these Aberrants soon. If all goes well, maybe we could fill our stomachs before we head back to town for our reward.¡± ¡°Hm. But I really hope the Aberrants in Pretjord are¡­ a little more appetizing than the ones from Naraka. I mean¡­ Jailer steaks and Flesh-fiend skewers? Can you even imagine?¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t threaten me with a good time. Right now, I¡¯m so hungry I could eat a ghost. And that¡¯s not a figure of speech, either.¡± Serac managed a distracted chuckle, still thinking about [Harvest] and its implications. ¡°Alternative resource,¡± she murmured, honing in on the most ambiguous part of the description. ¡°What could that mean?¡± ¡°This is new to me too,¡± came Trippy¡¯s reply, unprompted, ¡°but if I were to guess, it means you could choose which of two resource types to spend. Either 20 points of MP, or 5 points of [Satiety].¡± ¡°Huh¡­ I guess that makes sense. 20 points of MP is a little on the expensive side, but 5 points of [Satiety] doesn¡¯t sound too bad, as long as I manage my [Hunger] carefully. So, it¡¯s like a perk while I¡¯m in Pretjord; I could make myself a little hungrier in exchange for casting [Harvest]. Once I¡¯ve moved on, though, would I have no choice but to spend MP? Would I have any use for [Harvest] in the other Realms, though?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a good question, Wayfarer, one I don¡¯t have an answer to. I suppose it¡¯s something we¡¯ll have to learn along the way. Together.¡± Serac nodded, oddly serene. Since their encounter with Sublimity the Deva, Trippy had been ¡®Shriven¡¯ of his former self¡¯s intimate knowledge of REVOLVER and its complex magic. It saddened Serac to be reminded of all that her sentient six-shooter had lost. Yet, she was also¡ªa little selfishly, perhaps¡ªheartened by the knowledge that they were in this together, learning along the way. Presently, however, it was Petter Svensen who led the way. The mackerel man now halted mid-skip and put a fist up next to his head¡ªthe universal signal for: stop and listen. Or, in the Yaksha¡¯s case, it was to stop and read. Serac couldn¡¯t hear anything, but she could see the scales upon Petter¡¯s skin writhe and vibrate ever so slightly. Not with fear, but with heightened perception. ¡°Is this what you guys meant by ripple-reading?¡± Serac asked in a whisper. She didn¡¯t know if she needed to whisper, but it certainly felt appropriate. ¡°Exactly right, Miss Serac!¡± Petter answered cheerfully in his outside voice. ¡°We Yakshas¡ªand indeed most other living things in Pretjord¡ªcan detect nearby threats or opportunities from the subtle shifts and signals in the medium we occupy. Right now, that medium is damp forest air, and this particular set of signals tells me we¡¯re close.¡± ¡°Close to?¡± Serac continued to whisper, even though Petter had soundly demonstrated that there¡¯d been no need. ¡°Ulvknalls, miss.¡± Petter lowered his voice as he said this. But whether he did it out of caution or simply in solidarity with Serac was anyone¡¯s guess. ¡°Nasty beasts, them. I¡¯d almost always call them a threat, but right now, I¡¯m with you¡±¡ªhe grinned, revealing a set of surprisingly sharp teeth¡ª¡°so I¡¯d say this is more like an opportunity. Ready?¡± Serac nodded solemnly, then followed her mackerel guide as he waded through to the end of the thicket. This time, Petter did so with slow, careful steps, taking obvious care to avoid disturbing the surrounding vegetation as much as possible. The trio eventually came upon a clearing, one with a small, mossy pond in the center. This appeared to be a watering hole of sorts for the local inhabitants, as demonstrated by a dainty doe deer that presently lapped at its contents. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Petter halted again at the clearing¡¯s edge. Serac followed suit, not to copy her guide, but simply because she¡¯d been struck by the deer¡¯s beauty. Her erstwhile meeting with Bea Sattva had also primed her to believe all deer to be muscular, boulder-like creatures. Well, here was her first gander at a bona fide specimen that showed her assumptions to be far from the truth. ¡°Oh no,¡± she blurted next to Petter¡¯s earhole, again dropping her voice to a whisper, ¡°don¡¯t tell me this is an Aberrant. I don¡¯t want to smite anything so beautiful!¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got good news and bad news, miss.¡± Now Petter too spoke in a whisper, in an apparent effort to avoid stimulating the deer¡¯s ripple-sense. ¡°The good news is no, this isn¡¯t an Aberrant, and you won¡¯t have to smite it.¡± ¡°And the bad news?¡± Zacko cut in from the other side, his whisper roughened by hunger and impatience. As soon as Zacko spoke those words, ¡®bad news¡¯ descended from the canopy above¡ªin the form of a large, furry shadow. Faster than a mackerel could say ¡®and the bad news is¡¯¡ªand faster still than a deer could gallop to safety¡ªthe shadow engulfed the deer in its entirety. There came a brief cacophony of gnashing teeth, tearing flesh, and strangled, terrified yelps¡ªthen the forest quieted again. Just like that, the dainty doe deer was gone. In its place stood¡ªnay, crouched¡ªan abomination of slavering jaws, bloodied fur, and bulbous muscles. The thing was huge and imposing, yet it also had a strangely ¡®liquid¡¯ appearance¡ªlike its muscles could burst, its fur could melt away, and even its jaws could fall apart at any moment. In short, it looked like a wolf that couldn¡¯t decide if it wanted to be body or spirit before coming into the world. Regardless, Pathsight recognized it as a legitimate target for smiting: [Ulvknall]. Serac postponed her grief for the deer and unholstered REVOLVER, ready and eager to get back into the swing of things after her short ¡®vacation¡¯. But that was when a loud, animalistic growl filled her senses¡ªissued not from the wolf-like Aberrant, but from Zacko, who flung himself into the clearing with unbridled vigor. Wow, hungry Zacko knows none of his usual restraints! As much as her partner¡¯s blind charge had startled her, Serac took it as the learning opportunity it was. How will this Ulvknall react to a front-on assault? Sidestep? Block? Some kind of counterattack? The answer was none of the above. For just as a NINEFOLD master entered its line of sight, the Ulvknall dug itself lower into the ground, before flicking a bulbous paw and its sharpened claws toward the sky. The ground at the Ulvknall¡¯s feet exploded, sending up conal sprays of dirt, grass, and muddied water. Hungry Zacko took the full brunt of the elemental shower, which forced him to brake mid-charge and cover his face. ¡°Ptoop! Thpfft!¡± Zacko spat out mouthfuls of dirt, as tears streamed from his tightly shut eyes. ¡°Pocket sand? Are you for real right now?¡± ¡°Watch out!¡± Serac shouted a warning, as the Ulvknall¡¯s shadow emerged from the remnants of its ¡®pocket sand¡¯. It now rose to its full height, puffing out its blood-soaked chest and bearing all of its claws as it engulfed its latest prey. Serac acted first, because she saw that Zacko couldn¡¯t. She shot from the hip, leaning into a self-taught technique she was starting to trust more and more. The unimbued bullet failed to hit the mark, but it didn¡¯t need to. For its flight¡ªand the threat it carried in the form of ¡®ripples¡¯¡ªhad made the Ulvknall check its attack. That was all the delay Zacko needed to get back in the fight. Eyes still red and streaming, he nevertheless settled himself into a wide, stable stance, from which he unleashed his trademark high-DPS Dao: [Cestus]. The NINEFOLD master¡¯s fist buried itself into the tuft upon the Ulvknall¡¯s chest. The ensuing impact produced an oddly muffled sound¡ªalmost as if the combatants were submerged in water. Zacko looked visibly put off by the lack of feedback, but that didn¡¯t stop him from following through with his combo: [Fan] under the chin, then [Cudgel] to knock the beast back down to earth. Poise-break! The whole forest shook as the Ulvknall¡¯s towering frame dropped to the floor. It¡¯d gone back into its crouching position, but now absent any menace, as it could only wait to receive its smiting blow. Zacko promptly raised his fist to oblige the beast. ¡°Wait!¡± Serac shouted again, then flinched as her partner spun towards her with wild-eyed rage. ¡°Sorry! It¡¯s just that I happen to be on Chamber Two right now, and I really want to try out my new spell!¡± Zacko let out the snarl of an animal denied its kill. Despite it all, he held his fist in check and jerked his head towards the beast at his feet, as if to say: hurry the fuck up! Serac didn¡¯t need to be told twice. She took the briefest of Ksanas to attune to her own [Hunger], concentrating on its desperate, obsessive, and almost zealous energy as she squeezed the trigger. [Chamber Two: HARVEST] [196!] [ULVKNALL Status Effect: EARMARKED] REVOLVER¡¯s base AV, converted to Zealous damage, then reduced by half, then amplified again by the critical multiplier on a Poise-broken opponent. It was yet another instance where Serac was just happy to let Pathsight police its own math. This latest hit brought the Ulvknall¡¯s beefy HP down to its last chunk. Serac also glanced at her Mana bar to check that it was still full. So, that¡¯s how I opt to spend [Satiety] instead of MP, eh? Better get used to it so I can replicate it every time. Finally, she turned her attention back onto her partner, who¡¯d been chomping at the bits to finish off his smite. ¡°Okay, thanks, you can go ahead now!¡± Zacko¡¯s impatient fist came down before Serac could even get her words out. The wolf monster first went limp, then began to dissolve into Souldust. [560 ?] Not too shabby for two bullets¡¯ worth of work, one of which dealt half-damage and the other didn¡¯t even find its mark. Yet, on this occasion, Serac was far more interested in the physical fruits of her labor. Sure enough, the cloud of Souldust lifted, leaving in its wake a ¡®unique part¡¯ of the Ulvknall for a gunslinger to harvest. As for trying to identify what it was¡­ the exercise left Serac scratching her head. ¡°Eugh,¡± she uttered her honest reaction to seeing the bloody, rubbery, fleshy blob that hovered in the air previously occupied by an Ulvknall. ¡°What even is that?¡± ¡°By Tyr¡¯s jaws!¡± A colorful swear, courtesy of a mackerel man who suddenly jumped into the frame. Petter hovered over the hovering blob, waving his hands about like he didn¡¯t know what to do with them. ¡°That, Miss Serac, is Ulvknall liver. I¡¯ve only seen it once in my life¡ªand only from a fair distance, while standing on my dad¡¯s shoulders. This¡¯ll fetch a king¡¯s ransom at the marketplace; I¡¯d stake my life on it!¡± ¡°Really?¡± Serac eyed this so-called treasure with more than passing skepticism, then turned her dubious gaze onto her even less remarkable six-shooter. ¡°I knew I could count on REVOLVER to keep me safe, but I never thought it¡¯d let me eat like a king, too!¡± ¡°How about less chattering, more smiting?¡± Zacko cut in, his mood showing nary an improvement since his latest smite. He jerked his head again, this time towards the far end of the clearing, where more furry shadows emerged from the thicket. ¡°However rare or valuable that thing is, looks like there¡¯s more where it came from.¡± ¡°Perfect!¡± Serac¡¯s face split into a savage grin as she turned to face the mob. ¡°I¡¯ve been itching to test out my other new spell, too!¡± 76. Necromancy 76. Necromancy Serac ignored her [Hunger] in favor of her curiosity. But as eager as she was to turn the fight into an experiment, her test subjects had other ideas. Especially now that they had numbers on their side. With three Ulvknalls all emptying their ¡®pockets¡¯ at the same time, the forest ¡®clearing¡¯ was quickly obscured by thick sprays of dirt. ¡°Ptoop! Thpfft!¡± Blinded by tears and reeling from the sheer indignity of pocket sand, Serac failed to react in time as one bulbous paw sliced down and raked her across the chest. [221!] [Wayfarer Status Effect: LESSER BLEED] A not insignificant damage, accompanied by an annoying DoT effect. Bleed? I thought I¡¯d left all that behind in Naraka! The saving grace was that it was of the [Lesser] variety. It meant the [Lesser Regen] from Froggy canceled it out, which also meant Serac could forget about it and concentrate on fighting back. And fight back she did, together with her Manusya companion. By now, the two of them were experienced enough in their partnership to adopt certain patterns of action without the need for verbal communication. One such pattern involved their reaction to being outnumbered. Their first priority, as always, was to reduce the enemy¡¯s numbers. So, they joined up to tag-team one of the three Ulvknalls. The most obvious target was the one that had already revealed itself. First, Zacko barged into it with [Pauldron], knocking it off-balance and putting a stop to its attacks. His intervention also prevented the Ulvknall from diving back into the cover provided by its own pocket sand, which in turn allowed Serac to hit it with the full force of her triple burst. [124!], [124!], [124!] -> [372!] She would¡¯ve laid a fourth bullet into the same Ulvknall, had it not being for its packmate jumping in from the side for a swipe at the action. Serac instinctively spun towards the intrusion and blocked with PULVERIZER ([51!]), before emptying Chamber Six into the newcomer¡¯s slavering muzzle ([124!], plus a handful of chipped teeth!). With the first set of Cartridges fully spent, it was time to field-test yet another upgrade to Serac¡¯s ¡®kit¡¯¡ªthis one of a more mechanical persuasion. Thanks to Bea Sattva¡¯s Speedloader System?, REVOLVER¡¯s spare Cartridges sat in neat bundles of six. All a gunslinger needed to do was unclip a bundle and slide the whole thing into the open cylinder¡ªall in one smooth motion. Full reload, lightning quick. Serac went right back to blasting, with nary a pause in between cylinders, now rolling away from the second Ulvknall to return her focus back onto the first. Perfect timing. Zacko had managed to Poise-break the beast in the space it¡¯d taken Serac to speedload her gun. And its remaining HP was little enough that she could take it out in one critical hit. [Chamber One: EMBALMER] This time, the image Serac used as inspiration was that of a skeleton soldier rising from the dead. Along with a flat hit of self-damage ([100!]), REVOLVER spat out an onyx-colored pellet, which then exploded into bone dust upon impact. [326!] The bone dust rapidly coated the Ulvknall¡¯s entire body in pale-gray¡ªmuscles, fur, jaws and all. The phenomenon was all too familiar for a Wayfarer who¡¯d had her fill of the Bone Lord and his dead-raising magic. Except now, she was in the driver¡¯s seat, and that fact alone delighted her to no end. The freshly dead Ulvknall rose again as an [Enlisted Husk], and the first thing it did was¡­ throw more pocket sand! It did so, however, in the direction of its packmates¡ªa clear indication that REVOLVER¡¯s magic was working as intended. The erstwhile 2v3 had (at least for the next 12 seconds or so) flipped around in the Wayfarers¡¯ favor. ¡°Go, Temporary Wolfy, I choose you!¡± The [Enlisted] Ulvknall also chose¡ªan opponent, that is. It dove head-first for the closest packmate, which, ironically enough, had been the one to come to its rescue only moments ago. Two wolf monsters clashed amidst the settling sand, claws against claws and jaws snapping at each other¡¯s throats. Serac and Zacko reacted quickly, again bypassing verbal cues. As far as they were concerned, the [Enlisted] Ulvknall was simply a new addition to their team, and their ¡®strategy¡¯ remained the same. Hunt as a pack. Whittle down the mob, one individual at a time. Zacko jumped into the fray with a [Lance] gap-closer before pinning the living Ulvknall into the ground with a downward [Cestus]. To this, Serac piled on with an unimbued triple burst, shaving the enemy¡¯s health down to its last sliver. Finally, Temporary Wolfy stole both Wayfarers¡¯ thunder by dealing the smiting blow: a vicious swipe to tear out its packmate¡¯s innards, along with the last of its HP. [840 ?] Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. One ¡®autonomous¡¯ Ulvknall still remained. It sought to avenge its mates (and punish the traitor in their midst) by first dipping into ol¡¯ reliable: pocket sand to mask its approach. Serac snapped her eyes shut and countered with a couple of blind shots¡ªfirstly to make the enemy think twice about coming too close, and secondly to cycle out her cylinder. Speedload. Back to Chamber One. By the time Serac could see again, the Ulvknall was locked in a fierce tussle with the ¡®Huskbound¡¯ traitor, making it impossible to aim for one of them with any amount of accuracy. She hesitated¡ªbut only for a Ksana¡ªbefore she steeled her softie¡¯s heart and committed to her best course of action. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] She couldn¡¯t reliably hit one of the wolfies, but she could certainly set both of them on fire. Serac dipped into an ol¡¯ reliable of her own, trading 20% of her max health ([235!]) for what was still the highest-DPS spell in her growing arsenal. [136!], [179!], [358!] -> [673!] The black flames of Penitence were too hot for an [Enlisted Husk] to handle, and Temporary Wolfy melted into Souldust (it was nice knowing you!). Its flesh-bound counterpart was no better off, as it dropped to the ground, Poise-broken. It was all a perfect set-up for Serac¡¯s other teammate¡ªhe of the more permanent variety¡ªto deal the smiting blow: a gleeful [Blade] into the wolf monster¡¯s neck. [840 ?] [560 ?] Even after the fight had ended, there was more for Serac to learn about her own spells. 840 ? twice, and 560 ? for that last one. That means I receive the bonus if it¡¯s my [Enlisted Husk] that finishes off the Aberrant. And when the [Husk] itself dies, that also counts as my smiting blow. And even though the immediate threat had been dealt with, Serac refused to let down her guard. There was no telling what manner of ill-intentioned creatures still hid in the thickets, and she still didn¡¯t know enough about Pretjord to be complacent. Not unless¡ª ¡°That. Was. INCREDIBLE!¡± Not unless the local guide himself gave the cue to relax. Petter Svensen hopped higher and skipped faster than ever as he rejoined the Wayfarers, beaming from earhole to earhole. ¡°Miss Serac! Mr Zacarias!¡± The mackerel man proceeded to jump around the whole clearing, looking for all the world like he possessed infinite Stamina. ¡°You don¡¯t understand what this means to me! All my life¡­ all I ever wanted¡­ And to think that I got to witness Wayfaring magic inches from my scales! I can die happy now, knowing nothing else could match the¡­ the¡­ magnificence of what I experienced today¡ªin this life or the next¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m, uh, happy for you?¡± Serac said uncertainly, more than a little taken aback by Petter¡¯s zeal. ¡°But maybe just tone it down some? How do we know there aren¡¯t more of them wolf things waiting around the corner?¡± ¡°On that count, you have nothing to worry about!¡± Petter stopped on a dime and puffed out his chest. ¡°I haven¡¯t been idle while you two fought. I¡¯ve been reading the ripples and can assure you that there¡¯s nothing to trouble us for at least a mile all around.¡± ¡°A mile?¡± Zacko cut in then, finally sounding a little more like his usual self. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s the ¡®all-clear¡¯ signal you think it is, Pete. But still, I take it our ¡®mission¡¯ is complete, as far as the townspeople are concerned. And all thanks to your handy little spell, Serac. Never thought I¡¯d see the day where I¡¯d be traveling with a bona fide necromancer. Or should I say¡­ Bone-a fide?¡± Serac snorted at this, then regretted it immediately. Her reaction had given Zacko¡¯s awful ¡®joke¡¯ far more credit than it¡¯d deserved, but she supposed she could forgive herself her moment of weakness. After all, she was quickly learning that [Hunger] could make people a little loopy. Speaking of [Hunger]¡­ ¡°So, what should I do with this?¡± Serac referred, of course, to her [Harvest] from the first smite of the fight. The Ulvknall liver continued to hover in the air, remarkably untouched by the battle that had raged all around it. It looked as repulsive as ever, and Serac hesitated to even touch it. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy, miss!¡± Petter piped up, eager to be of use. ¡°You ought to take it back to the market and trade it. It¡¯ll net you boatloads of lesser ingredients, I¡¯m sure. More than enough to keep you and Mr Zacarias well-fed for days if not weeks. And if you play your cards right, it might even kick-start your very own food-trading empire!¡± ¡°Or¡±¡ªZacko again¡ª¡°we could just eat it ourselves. Right here, right now.¡± Petter sputtered, round-eyed and speechless. Serac, oddly enough, met the Manusya¡¯s even gaze with a nod of approval. It turned out she¡¯d just been thinking the same thing. Yes, the liver looked disgusting as it was, but if someone else were willing to handle it, she¡¯d gladly try its culinarily altered version. Maybe it was just the [Hunger] making her loopy, but right now, a hot meal sounded orders of magnitude more enticing than the prospect of a food-trading empire. And besides¡ª ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so shocked on our behalf, Pete,¡± Zacko continued. ¡°You just saw us ¡®cook¡¯, so you know we¡¯re capable of rustling up more Ulvknall livers anytime we want. And besides, don¡¯t you wanna try it?¡± If Petter had been shocked by Zacko¡¯s earlier remark, it was clear that he now found its sequel downright scandalous. ¡°M¡ªm¡ªm¡ªme, mister? Try the Ulvknall liver? B¡ªb¡ªb¡ªbut I didn¡¯t do anything to deserve it!¡± ¡°I think you did plenty, Petey!¡± Serac chimed in, giving her Manusya partner a thumb-up as she did. ¡°You were the perfect guide, and an even better cheerleader! We¡¯d love for you to share a meal with us.¡± The mackerel man still looked far from convinced. He took a hesitant step back, as if terrified by the very idea that a pair of Wayfarers wanted to include him in their victory. ¡°Enough with this pauper act,¡± Zacko insisted, now with a note of impatience. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have your reasons for being so overly humble, and I won¡¯t pry as to what they might be. But sometimes, you just gotta say ¡®no¡¯ to that part of your brain that keeps telling you ¡®no¡¯¡­ and instead say ¡®fuck yes¡¯ to what life offers up on a silver platter. Or, I guess in this case, a floating invisible platter, but that only proves my point. It¡¯s up to you, Pete. Do you wanna make this magnificent day of yours even more unforgettable, or what?¡± Serac first did a double take, giving Zacko a look as if to say: where did that come from? Then she turned back to Petter with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. It took the timid Yaksha several more moments to argue with the part of his brain that kept telling him ¡®no¡¯. In the end, however, his mackerel mouth with its surprisingly sharp teeth split into a wide, assertive grin as he announced: ¡°In that case, Wayfarers, I¡¯ll take you up on your generous offer. And you¡¯ve already shown me how you cook, so now, it¡¯s my turn to return the favor.¡± 77. Chef Petey 77. Chef Petey [Realm Boon: SYNTHESIS] [Anchored Realm: PRETJORD] [Boon Description: When certain food items are consumed, the Yaksha (or Rakshasa) assimilates the magic inherent in the world and gains a unique effect. The effect varies by the item.] *** For all his earlier humility, Petter Svensen became a self-assured maestro when it came to his turn to cook¡ªa transformation into a completely different person as soon as he was in his ¡®element¡¯. ¡°First, miss and mister, we ought to clean and soak the liver so it loses its gaminess.¡± As a hell bumpkin, Serac wasn¡¯t sure she could even recognize ¡®gaminess¡¯ if she tasted it. But Zacko was apparently familiar with the term, and saw the importance of what Petter proposed. Even in his hangry state, the Manusya was willing to put up with a bit of extra prep time. Petter grabbed the Ulvknall liver, first with apparent reverence, then with practiced aplomb as he settled into his task. He took it to a nearby brook where he washed the whole thing under running fresh water. Then he used a pocketknife to trim off the gunky bits (which was the extent of Serac¡¯s ability to describe the process) before letting it sit in a small pool of salted water. ¡°There. While we wait, we can see about starting a fire. Unless¡­ either of you has a handy Wayfarer¡¯s way of doing it?¡± At this, Serac and Zacko looked at each other and shrugged. Outside of rolling around inside a Damnatorium Furnace or setting Aberrants aflame with [Catharsis], Serac had exactly zero experience with fires. Somehow, she doubted that any of her prior knowledge could apply here. Thankfully, Petter was old hat at starting fires in the middle of the wilderness. The Wayfarers helped him gather kindling in the form of twigs, leaves, and pine needles. Meanwhile, Petter himself set up his ¡®stove¡¯: an impromptu contraption of packed dirt and flat rocks, with a niche in the center wherein went the kindling. He then pulled out a small painted box, inside which sat several thin wooden sticks. Here, Petter hesitated for a moment, which gave Serac the chance to exchange another look with her fellow layperson. From Zacko¡¯s blank expression, it was clear that even the Manesferan didn¡¯t recognize the object in Chef Petey¡¯s hand. ¡°Matchsticks,¡± the chef explained, still deep in thought as he eyed the box¡¯s contents. ¡°Cost me a fortune, and I¡¯m down to my last handful, but¡±¡ªhe looked up with a solemn nod¡ª¡°this is worth it.¡± Petter took out one of the sticks and held it against the side of the box. A flick of the wrist, then voila, the niche under the stove, along with all the kindling went up in flames. Serac couldn¡¯t help but gasp, clap, and cheer. She turned to Zacko, hoping for someone to share in her wonderment, but found, to her chagrin, that the Manusya was utterly unmoved. ¡°What?¡± Zacko said with a defensive shrug. ¡°We¡¯ve got stuff like ¡®lighters¡¯ and ¡®hotplates¡¯ up in Manesfera. You expect me to be impressed by this stone age technology?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a competition!¡± Serac protested. ¡°Starting fire from nothing. Now that¡¯s what I call ¡®magic¡¯, and we ought to appreciate it for what it is.¡± ¡°You do realize you carry around a gun that shoots fire, blood, bone, and apparently a butcher¡¯s knife too, right? I think your wonders-and-mysteries sensor needs a bit of fine tuning.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, like this asshole I know always says: the afterlife works in mysterious ways.¡± After that inane sidebar, Chef Petey restored order by teaching the Wayfarers how to mind the fire, while he went back to the Ulvknall liver. The final preparations involved cutting the shapeless blob into neat ¡®steaks¡¯ that nearly looked fit for Rakshasa consumption. He then seasoned the slices with pinches of salt and generous sprinkles of pepper (¡°a good Pretjordian chef never goes anywhere without them!¡±) before throwing them onto the heated ¡®stovetop¡¯. The steaks sizzled and browned, giving off an oddly earthy aroma that immediately made Serac¡¯s mouth water. It had to be said that the smell wasn¡¯t exactly ¡®enticing¡¯ or even ¡®good¡¯, but it somehow woke in her a hitherto unknown appetite. A hell bumpkin she might be, but some primitive part of her consciousness responded to the age-old alchemy of meat, spice, and heat. For the next short while, Chef Petey let his ingredients cook themselves. He intervened only to sprinkle in a batch of freshly stripped thyme (¡°lucky for us, the Hevnerskog is full of these things, especially around the edges of a clearing like the one we¡¯re in now!¡±). The addition of thyme infused the air with a grassy, piney fragrance, which only heightened Serac¡¯s anticipation. ¡°And¡­ there! I think we¡¯re done. Medium rare is the way to go, you know. Bon appetit, Wayfarers! Or should I say¡­ Bone appetit?¡± Serac gasped again, this time out of sheer shock. Beside her, Zacko guffawed uproariously as he reached across and clapped Petter on the shoulder. And with that rather fruitful sidebar out of the way, it was finally time to dig in. As Serac stared at her still smoking steak, however, she was interrupted again, this time by Pathsight: If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. [Designation: Stone-cooked Ulvknall Liver] [Item Class: Consumable] [Item Description: Pocket sand¡ªdishonorable trickery or pragmatic survival technique? Don¡¯t judge until you¡¯ve walked a mile in the furry shoes of these tenacious creatures. When consumed by a [Synthesis]-adept Wayfarer, the Ulvknall liver cures all [Bleed] effects and confers [Regen] for 20 seconds.] By then, however, Serac¡¯s appetite was such that she couldn¡¯t care less what nuggets of wisdom Pathsight had to offer. Get food in belly first, then we can talk. Serac took a bite, then couldn¡¯t help but let out yet another gasp. ¡°This. Is. INCREDIBLE! From that ugly thing to this? You¡¯re a miracle worker, Petey!¡± ¡°I was wrong, and you were right, Serac,¡± this from Zacko beside her. ¡°This shit right here? This is magic. Someone cooked here, and that someone is Pete.¡± The chef in question, hitherto confident and authoritative in manner as he directed his assistants, suddenly melted into an aw-shucks smile, complete with vaguely wavy hand movements. ¡°You give me too much credit, miss and mister. A chef is only as good as his ingredients, and they don¡¯t get much richer and savorier than an Ulvknall liver.¡± As far as the Wayfarers were concerned, the magic of food didn¡¯t stop at its taste and texture. Serac managed to tear her attention away from her mouthful long enough to note the creamy orange of her [Satiety] gauge, which ticked up and up at a vigorous rate. And because Serac was a Rakshasa with her [Realm Boon] trait, she enjoyed an additional effect that not even her Manusya partner was privy to. [4], [4], [4], ¡­ [1], [1], [1], ¡­ Gone was the [Lesser Bleed] inflicted by a wolf monster¡¯s claws. In its place, the passive healing from a fresh [Regen] ticked along, in conjunction with its [Lesser] sibling that was already in effect. At this rate, Serac would refill her missing HP in no time. ¡°Ooh, really handy, this!¡± she remarked to no one in particular. ¡°Now I¡¯m curious what other food items and special effects there might be!¡± ¡°As am I, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy suddenly chimed in. ¡°Whenever possible, it would behoove you to use [Harvest] on every new Aberrant we encounter¡ªif only to populate our culinary knowledge base.¡± ¡°Noted and agreed,¡± Serac said with a contented smile. The strained mood between her and Trippy had yet to fully smooth over, and they often went hours without speaking. But right now, with hot food in her belly and good company to share the joy, all that felt like blood under the bridge. ¡°So, am I right to understand all the Yaksha Wayfarers have [Synthesis] too? Man, I¡¯m jealous; they must be stuffing their faces everywhere they go!¡± ¡°Speaking of which,¡± this from jolly jolly Zacko, who stopped mid-bite to raise one eyebrow at Petter, ¡°you said something funny earlier, Pete. Something about me and Serac being the first Wayfarers you¡¯ve ever seen in action? I would¡¯ve thought there¡¯d be plenty of Pretjord starters roaming about the place. At least that¡¯s what I told Serac before we came here, so now I kind of look like a liar. Are Yaksha Wayfarers really that rare?¡± ¡°I had the same question, actually,¡± Serac added. ¡°Like, even this quest we¡¯re on right now¡­ I thought it was kind of strange that the townspeople would be so eager to foist it on outrealmers they barely knew. Aren¡¯t there, you know, locals who¡¯d be taking care of the local Aberrant problems?¡± At this, Petter Svensen gave his strangest reaction yet. It was a light chuckle, though with a somewhat forced quality that suggested he might be masking a more genuine emotion. ¡°No, Mr Zacarias, as far as I know, Yaksha Wayfarers aren¡¯t rare,¡± he seemed to choose his words carefully, ¡°but what¡¯s rare are the occasions that would warrant their coming down to Stamgard. And yes, Miss Serac, the local Wayfarers do take care of local problems, but only at a price¡­ and it¡¯s no price a scavenger like me could afford.¡± Serac and Zacko exchanged another look. ¡°You mean these Wayfarers in Pretjord charge the locals for smiting Aberrants? And what, everyone¡¯s okay with that?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure if we¡¯ve ever thought about it in terms of ¡®okay¡¯ or not. It¡¯s a decree passed down by King Tyr himself: that all Wayfarers waiting to ascend first serve in his Kronvakt¡ªthe most elite regiment of the Kronheer. It¡¯s been that way for as long as I¡¯ve been alive. Even before my dad¡¯s and my granda¡¯s times, I¡¯d wager.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s just¡­ not cool,¡± Serac fumed, the memory of the Bone Lord and his ¡®Pledges¡¯ still fresh on her mind. ¡°This King Tyr is your Realm Immortal, isn¡¯t he? Well, he sounds like as big a jerk as the one we just smited in Naraka.¡± ¡°Maybe don¡¯t rush into your seditious manifestos just yet, eh, princess?¡± Zacko cut in with his sardonic smile. ¡°We¡¯ve literally just gotten to this Realm. There¡¯s probably more for us to see and do before we could decide how we feel about the big guy in charge.¡± Petter had paled into a lighter shade of yellow at Serac¡¯s mention of ¡®smiting an Immortal¡¯. And when he spoke again, his normally bouncy voice had taken on a leaden weight. ¡°Is it so strange, Miss Serac? For souls to be rewarded for what they¡¯re worth? You, Mr Zacarias, and all the Wayfarers in the Kronvakt keep us safe from Aberrants with your powerful magic. Then there¡¯re people like Mr Palmr who¡¯ve got the brains and the know-how to run a complicated business. Even my dad was big and strong, which meant folks always had work for him. But then, look at me. Puny, dopey, and not one talent to my name.¡± ¡°Hey, I thought Zacko already talked the ¡®humble¡¯ out of you!¡± Serac reached across and gave Petter a light punch on the shoulder. ¡°And get outta here with your ¡®no talent¡¯ nonsense! This is the best Ulvknall liver I¡¯ve ever had; you¡¯re crazy talented!¡± ¡°This is Pretjord, miss. The Realm of hunger and the neverending pursuit of satiety. Everyone here is a cook, and that means I¡¯m nothing special. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s honestly a small miracle that I haven¡¯t been sent down to Rotgard. So, at least in that sense, I suppose I should count my blessings.¡± Serac opened her mouth to argue, then fell silent. She glanced at Zacko for help, but the Manusya merely stared at Petter with an inscrutable frown. Maybe they¡¯re right, Serac thought as her shoulders drooped. Maybe I know too little about this Realm to be running my mouth. Time for me to watch, listen, and learn. Then maybe I could find the right way to help Chef Petey get his groove back. As if he¡¯d read her mind, Petter looked up and gave Serac an appreciative smile. ¡°Come on, Miss Serac. Mister Zacarias.¡± The bounce in his voice was back, but Serac was no longer certain that this was Petter Svensen at his most natural self. ¡°Let¡¯s head back into town and give folks the good news. Your first quest done and dusted, and what a way to do it!¡± 78. Welcome to Stamgard 78. Welcome to Stamgard Job done and [Hunger] sated, Serac finally had the time and wherewithal to explore the town of Stamgard. And if she could only use one phrase to describe what she saw, it¡¯d have to be ¡®a lot going on¡¯. Houses ¡®grew¡¯ out of the Realmtree¡¯s bark-like surface, looking as much a part of the natural scenery as the trees and bushes with which they shared the soil. Through the spaces in between flowed countless streams of viridian water, all of which came from and would eventually join up again with the Sanzu River. As Petter the local guide told it, Stamgardians had, over centuries, shaped and molded the landscape of their home as much as they¡¯d been guided by its wildness. One important example was a large-scale engineering project called ¡®channelization¡¯, whereby the existing rivers were reinforced with bricks and stone. This helped to protect Stamgard from flooding and erosion while also providing the locals with their main mode of transportation¡ªnamely by turtle. Yes. Everywhere Serac looked, there were Yakshas floating through the ¡®canals¡¯ on turtleback. Most were only big enough for a standing room of one, while some others had been saddled for tandem riding. There was even one enormous, ancient-looking variant that ¡®ferried¡¯ a few dozen souls up and down the main body of the Sanzu. A quick gander at Pathsight told Serac that these turtles weren¡¯t Aberrant nor classified as ¡®Steeds¡¯, meaning they were a domesticated example of the abundant wildlife that underpinned Pretjordian life. Unlike the wastelands of Naraka, natural resources were plentiful upon the barks of the Realmtree, and the Yakshas clearly had no qualms about taking full advantage. According to Petter, however, this wasn¡¯t always the case. ¡°Some of these canals were put in more recently, during my granda¡¯s time. They say that, all told, channelization of Stamgard took upwards of 200 years to complete. And it wouldn¡¯t have even started, were it not for King Tyr and the vision he had for Pretjord¡¯s future.¡± ¡°See, Ser¡ªyawn¡ªac?¡± Zacko spoke lazily with eyes half-closed. Evidently, a full belly had turned him into sleepy sleepy Zacko. ¡°Maybe this King Tyr dude isn¡¯t so bad after all, eh? Civil engineering, functional economy, and a stout military to boot¡ªat least from the sound of it. Heck, maybe even Manesferans could learn a thing or two.¡± ¡°Well, does your Immortal also keep your Realm¡¯s Wayfarers penned up in their palace?¡± Zacko blinked several times as Serac waited for an answer. ¡°Pass,¡± the Manusya said unhelpfully. ¡°It¡¯s a lot more complicated than that, and right now, I¡¯m way too tired to be talking politics.¡± ¡°All I¡¯m saying,¡± Serac huffed, ¡°is we should all be free to live how we choose. Not just Wayfarers, but everyone.¡± ¡°But what you propose is anarchy, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy threw in his two ?. ¡°The fact is Pretjord has prospered under King Tyr¡¯s rule, and the commoner¡¯s life is made better for it. Besides, have you ever considered how far you¡¯d extend your idea of ¡®freedom for all¡¯? What about the living castle presently strapped to your belt, or these turtles who serve the Yakshas? Do they not deserve the same freedom you claim for yourself?¡± Serac opened her mind to argue, then found that she too was too sleepy for it. But if she had her way, yes, they¡¯d all be free to choose their own destinies. The turtles, the deer they saw in the forest, and yes, even her own Steed. If Ash ever made it known that it wanted to go its own way, she¡¯d let it go with a tearful hug and a good-luck pat on its stone wall, no questions asked. But then she also thought of the Ulvknall offals that filled her stomach. Not just the Ulvknalls but the now hundreds of Aberrants she¡¯d smited and helped onto their next life. They had also been free¡ªfree to stand in her Path, that was. And she herself had been free to answer violence with violence, with her rendition of it being just that much more powerful. But perhaps therein lay the rub. For what was power if not its own form of oppression? As a Serac Edin grew stronger and freer along her upward trajectory, it¡¯d be nigh on impossible to avoid trampling on the Paths of others. She knew this from first-hand experience. And she would¡ªmore likely than not¡ªembody it again and again. Funnily enough, her next order of business was a meeting with another powerful individual. Power of a different kind, to be sure, but Palmr Jorgensen clearly had plenty of it, and it was on full display as the Wayfarers returned to the Town Market. His was what the locals referred to as a ¡®general store¡¯. It sold everything from ingredients to spices to supplies to tools and even weapons. Within a natural ¡®town square¡¯ enclosed by a large, gnarly knot upon the Realmtree, Jorgen & Sons was by far its highest-footprint establishment. Even now, Yakshas of all shapes and ¡®types¡¯ filtered in and out of the tree hollows that served as a storefront¡ªcarrying one thing as they went in and something else entirely as they came out. ¡°We operate on a bartering system, you see,¡± Petter explained, pointing to a prominent baobab tree that grew out of the same ¡®groove¡¯ as Jorgen & Sons. Upon its trunk¡¯s smooth, almost flat surface were lines of text that had been carved into the bark, full of symbols and abbreviations that stretched an outrealmer¡¯s comprehension: ACR | 3/20 | ¡ü BLF | 4/7 | ¡ý CSN | 1/5 | ¡ý ¡°You see, the Trunk Ticker is where you check the exchange rates. The baobab bark renews itself daily, which allows Mr Palmr and the other master vendors to rewrite the information on the board. Based on the rates and what you bring to a trade, your buying power changes from day to day. Ohhh, I really wish we picked up some acorns on the way back!¡± ¡°Why not just use a unified currency?¡± Zacko asked, staring at the ¡®Ticker¡¯ in disbelief. ¡°These numbers actually make sense to you?¡± ¡°Well, to be perfectly honest, Mr Zacarias,¡± Petter replied with a visible blush, ¡°I was never any good with fractions and ratios and conversions and whatnot. But that¡¯s why we have people like Mr Palmr to run the numbers.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Zacko side-eyed the mackerel man. ¡°You mean to tell me the vendors themselves set the terms for each trade?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. It¡¯s for the best, I think. It¡¯s the only way anything would get done around here, what with so many trades happening every morning.¡± ¡°I think I just answered my own question,¡± Zacko murmured with a slight sneer. Serac knew that look; her partner had caught onto something fishy (no pun intended)¡ªthe next target of his sardonic ire. ¡°And my next question, too¡ªabout why those guys have to be here.¡± ¡®Those guys¡¯ referred to the giant sturgeons who¡¯d disappeared from the crowd earlier. They were back, and instead of accompanying Palmr Jorgensen himself, they now stood guard at the front of his store. More accurately, they stood on either side of an elaborate display box, one obviously meant to draw the eyes of all passersby. It contained clear glass vials half-filled with a lurid green liquid. And judging by how full the box remained, it appeared that very little of the product had shifted, at least so far this morning. Maybe the staffing has something to do with that, was Serac¡¯s honest opinion. For eyes did turn without fail to the display as they passed, only to turn away again as soon as they were met by the sturgeon twins¡¯ cold glares. Serac didn¡¯t know much, but she knew this was no way to sell a marquee product. Doubly strange, given how astute a businessman this Palmr Jorgensen was touted to be. Strange enough to make a Rakshasa wonder if perhaps selling the product wasn¡¯t the true intent. Thus, both Wayfarers had their eyes slightly narrowed (for different reasons) as they entered Jorgen & Sons. But as Serac herself met the glare of one of the twins, her eyes widened again, startled as she was by a Pathsighted message. [Designation: LARS TOMASEN] [Wayfarer Race: YAKSHA] [Karmic Level: 41] [Liminal Karma: 9,840 ?] [ZEALOUS Instrument (shared with Hans Tomasen): COASTER] [Auxiliary: STROKE-SIDE OAR] Serac turned the same wide-eyed gaze onto the brother, and sure enough: [Designation: HANS TOMASEN] [Wayfarer Race: YAKSHA] [Karmic Level: 41] [Liminal Karma: 9,840 ?] [ZEALOUS Instrument (shared with Lars Tomasen): COASTER] [Auxiliary: BOW-SIDE OAR] These guys are Wayfarers? But isn¡¯t the king hoarding all of them? Also, I¡¯ve heard of identical twins, but to be on the exact same Karma and sharing the same Instrument?? That might be taking it too far¡­ A glance at Zacko (he of both eyebrows raised now) told her he was wrestling with the same discovery. The twins in question, however, paid the Wayfarers no more mind than they would any other prospective customer. Identical, cold, unfriendly glares¡ªno more, no less. Power as oppression, indeed. Well, the sturgeons might have 11 Karmic Levels and at least two feet on her, but Serac wasn¡¯t about to be intimidated. As soon as she got over her intial shock, she went right back to narrowing her eyes, giving back as good as she got. The meeting was off to a great start, with a friendly staring contest with the store¡¯s security detail. And as the Wayfarers walked into the building proper, their gazes drifted again towards its largest occupant. Palmr the master vendor sat in the very back, upon a stump that had been carved bare to fit his corpulent figure. Before him was a wooden table, every inch of it covered by half-eaten plates of food: curried crayfish, spiced mince stew, garlic bread, and the like. Serac didn¡¯t know much about cuisines, but if she had to pinpoint a theme to this eclectic spread, it¡¯d have to be ¡®strongest smell possible¡¯. The sheer stench that combined and emanated from Palmr¡¯s ¡®breakfast¡¯ overpowered everything else in the store. Indeed, it was bad enough to momentarily make a Rakshasa retch and sway on her feet. Perhaps she simply wasn¡¯t [Hungry] enough, but the sight of a rotund catfish stuffing his face¡ªwith sauces and food bits dribbling off the ends of his whiskers¡ªmade her never want to eat again. Seriously, this can¡¯t be good for business. What the hell is going on here? Contrary to her thoughts, however, business was evidently booming. Anxious customers lined every aisle, leaving no room for a pair of Wayfarers and their local guide to squeeze their way to the back of the store. The trio was forced to take their place in the lengthy queue, empty-handed and growing more impatient by the second. The queue moved slowly, and it was easy to see why. Palmr, despite being the sole decision-maker around this place, refused to engage his clientele directly. Instead, a flustered tilapia ran back and forth between the customers and the master vendor, waiting for the moments where he¡¯d stop chewing long enough to whisper messages into his earhole. ¡°Is this guy for real?¡± Zacko muttered under his breath. ¡°More and more, Serac, I¡¯m starting to like your idea of smiting everyone we don¡¯t like.¡± ¡°Shh!¡± Serac glared at her Manusya partner. ¡°You¡¯re the one who said we ought to watch and learn. We¡¯ve got time on our side now, so let¡¯s not cause a scene just yet, yeah?¡± So, Serac waited (im)patiently, watching and learning all the while. In particular, she was curious to see the emotion that invariably colored the faces of every customer as they finished their trade and left the store. It was one of pure relief. Relief at leaving behind the oppressive stench and atmosphere, perhaps, but there was something far more primitive¡ªmore chemical¡ªabout the reaction. The customers had cravings they couldn¡¯t ignore. And these cravings were met only by whatever they managed to purchase at Jorgen & Sons. That was why business was booming this morning, as it would be every morning after this. It really was as simple as that. Disquieted by her private thoughts, Serac found her way to the front of the queue, rather sooner than she¡¯d expected. She also expected to have to speak to the tilapia as a go-between, but then¡ª ¡°Show them through, Erik. These are special guests of mine.¡± The put-upon tilapia choked back a sigh as he waved the party through. Despite the invitation, Serac hesitated for a moment; Palmr was just that repulsive of a figure. But Zacko showed no such qualms as he strode over and seated himself at the table. He even reached in and helped himself to the food, grinning up at Palmr with a mouthful of garlic bread. The catfish met this with nary a twitch to his permanent sneer. Serac hurried to follow suit, stopping only to drag along Petter¡¯s reluctant figure. She too sat down without being asked to, but stopped short of trying the food¡ªnot out of politeness, but because she didn¡¯t think she could do it without immediately throwing it back up. Beside her, Petter chose to remain standing. ¡°Good to see you back in one piece, Wayfarers.¡± Palmr¡¯s beady eyes glinted with barely disguised amusement as he bounced them between Serac and Zacko (and completely ignored Petter). ¡°And if I¡¯d come across rudely before, I hope you have it in you to forgive me. The start of the day is always stressful for traders, as you might imagine. But I¡¯ve got all the time in the world for you now, and as such, let me start by offering a belated welcome to Stamgard.¡± 79. Pay Your Dues 79. Pay Your Dues Palmr smacked his lips a few times, letting at least one speck of curried crayfish fly onto Serac¡¯s face. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, while she reconsidered Zacko¡¯s earlier suggestion for a more direct approach to diplomacy. After several moments passed in this friendly silence, it was Petter¡ªthe most timid of the gathered members¡ªwho braved the waters. ¡°Um, Mr Palmr, sir? Miss Serac and Mr Zacarias have just returned from smiting a pack of Ulvknalls in the Hevnerskog, just like you asked. Pardon my impudence, sir, but I believe that means they¡¯re entitled to compensation in the form of equitable credits.¡± It soon became clear that, as far as Palmr was concerned, Petter was air. The vendor kept his eyes pointed to the Wayfarers, giving zero indication he¡¯d heard Petter or noticed his presence at all. ¡°I¡¯ll be frank and straight to the point, Wayfarers,¡± the catfish man said with the air of having started the conversation himself. Every time he spoke, parts of his thin, brush-like teeth showed, along with the food bits stuck in between. ¡°I¡¯m happy and grateful that you¡¯ve dealt with the Ulvknalls. But, unfortunately, I¡¯ve no way of rewarding you for your efforts.¡± ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± Zacko asked, wearing a sneer to match his counterpart. ¡°Two reasons. The first being you have no witness to verify your smites.¡± ¡°What?¡± Serac cut in, no longer able to contain herself. ¡°Just what do you mean by that? Petey¡¯s our witness; he came with us and saw everything!¡± ¡°Petey? Oh, you mean Mr Svensen here.¡± Palmr snorted, clearly amused by the notion. ¡°With all due respect, I wouldn¡¯t trust this feckless freeloader to verify a shit in the woods. No, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re gonna have to do better than that.¡± It took all of Serac¡¯s willpower to A) stay seated, and B) stop herself from glancing at Petter. Even so, she saw from the corner of her eyes the mackerel man¡¯s pale, stricken face. ¡°First of all, you need to take back what you just said about Petey,¡± she said, voice trembling, ¡°and second, don¡¯t try to take us for fools. We agreed on Petey to be our witness, right before we set off.¡± ¡°I agreed to no such thing.¡± Palmr¡¯s demeanor showed no change in response to Serac¡¯s obvious anger. ¡°As far as I can recall, Mr Svensen volunteered himself for the job, and you took him on without so much as a vetting process. You¡¯re Wayfarers, set in your Paths; who am I to stop you? And I believe there¡¯s about a town square full of souls who¡¯d be willing to corroborate my version of events.¡± ¡°You piece of shit.¡± Zacko evidently lacked Serac¡¯s self-restraint. The NINEFOLD master shot to his feet and brought Palmr with him, lifting the much larger man by the collar of his layered tunic. The jig was up, and it was time for Serac to back her partner-in-diplomacy. At this point, she was more than eager to give into her anger and distaste for the catfish man, and she reached for the holster at her belt to do just that. Suddenly, the corner of the room darkened. Or rather, two large figures emerged from the rear, throwing the whole gathering under their shadows. One figure hooked its trunk-like arm around Zacko¡¯s neck, while the other caught Serac¡¯s REVOLVER hand within its vise-grip. Serac looked up, only to be met by a sturgeon twin¡¯s impassive glare¡ªLars, according to Pathsight. Hans, of course, was the one who had Zacko in a headlock, looking ready to snap the latter¡¯s neck at any moment, all without straining a single muscle on his face. Power as a form of oppression. Palmr Jorgensen had plenty of it, not just from the townspeople¡¯s absolute dependence on his products, but also thanks to a pair of Wayfarers ready and willing to do his dirty work. I just don¡¯t get it, Serac thought bitterly, even as she relaxed her grip on REVOLVER. Everywhere I go, there are Wayfarers who¡¯d rather serve than go their own way. What am I missing? Looking into the twins¡¯ soulless eyes, however, the only apparent answer she could find was nothing. ¡°Now, now, there¡¯s no need to get heated,¡± Palmr said, looking none the worse for wear, ¡°especially over a trifling matter such as this. You see, even if Mr Svensen were a valid witness, it wouldn¡¯t have made a difference. I still haven¡¯t told you about the second reason, which is that you two¡ªMs Edin and Mr Borges-Juventus¡ªhave been put under a moratorium. No vendor is allowed to trade with you until you¡¯ve been authorized by Krongard. And that¡¯s a direct order from Queen Loha herself. So, you see, as much as it pains me to say, my hands are tied.¡± Serac took a moment to process the nuggets of information contained in Palmr¡¯s speech, explicit or otherwise. So, there¡¯s a ¡®queen¡¯ giving out orders, too? I wonder why it¡¯s not King Tyr himself. And this ¡®moratorium¡¯ thing¡­ does it mean the people in charge of this Realm don¡¯t trust me and Zacko? I mean, it shouldn¡¯t really affect us, at least in terms of managing our [Hunger], when I could just [Harvest] our¡ª ¡°And in case you¡¯re wondering, yes, the moratorium extends to your foraging rights as well. Both of you are hereby prohibited from the designated foraging grounds, which include all the forests and wetlands outside the town¡¯s perimeter.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Welp. There goes that. Can¡¯t buy food, and can¡¯t hunt for our own ingredients. What does this Queen Loha expect us to do then¡ªjust starve? ¡°I¡¯d ask how you intend on enforcing any of that, but I think I already know the answer,¡± Zacko said, giving Hans Tomasen a friendly tap on the arm as he did. ¡°So, naturally, my next question would be about getting that pesky moratorium lifted. Any ideas on a timeline¡ªor maybe even ways for us to help that process along?¡± At this, Palmr¡¯s sneer widened some more. He looked up at his twin enforcers with a curt nod, looking for all the world like he owned these towering Wayfarers. And the twins themselves responded with prompt obedience, instantly and simultaneously letting go of their captives. As Zacko cracked and stretched his neck, and as Serac massaged the imprint of a sturgeon hand on her twig-like arm, the catfish across from them began another spiel. ¡°Far be it for me to speculate on the goings-on in Krongard; the matter of your credibility is being investigated by the appropriate parties, as appointed by Queen Loha herself, and they¡¯ll surely come to the appropriate decision in due course. In the meantime, however, I do have a suggestion with regards to your second point¡ªthat of expediting the process and perhaps even making a favorable case for yourselves along the way. I¡¯m sure you¡¯d hate to starve while waiting for the¡ª¡± ¡°Out with it, fatso,¡± this from (who else?) Zacko. ¡°I¡¯d sooner starve than spend another minute breathing in your stink.¡± For the first time since the conversation started, Palmr reacted in a way that hadn¡¯t been prefabricated. His beady eyes widened enough to show their whites, and his lips nearly flattened into a thin line. But he composed himself just as quickly (all while the sturgeon twins did nothing). ¡°Right,¡± Palmr said with a cough. ¡°here¡¯s the thing, Mr Borges-Juventus. Ulvknalls and other Aberrants of the ilk, we Stamgardians have a fairly good handle on. If the problems get bad enough, we can always petition for the Kronvakt to intervene. I¡¯ve also got my boys here¡±¡ªa perfunctory nod towards the twins, lacking utterly in warmth or affection¡ª¡°to help in a pinch, and believe you me when I say they¡¯re fairly handy in that regard. But there is one persistent problem that¡¯s been a thorn in Stamgard¡¯s¡ªnay, the whole of Pretjord¡¯s¡ªside, long enough for the wound to fester.¡± Serac and Zacko exchanged a look. This was starting to sound like familiar territory again. And Serac even had an inkling as to where exactly this conversation was headed. ¡°Froggy,¡± she volunteered a guess. ¡°Lady Pink. Or¡­ what did you guys call her?¡± ¡°The Finless¡­¡± All eyes turned to the unexpected speaker. Petter the mackerel, on the other hand, looked like he¡¯d only just realized he¡¯d said anything at all. He immediately paled and shrank into himself, for lack of a better hiding place. ¡°This Finless gal,¡± Zacko picked up the thread, while keeping a thoughtful gaze on Petter for a second longer, ¡°what is she, like your boogeyman? What¡¯s she done that¡¯s got all your britches in a twist?¡± Palmr coughed again as he turned his attention back onto the outrealmers. ¡°You¡¯ll forgive my unfamiliarity with the term ¡®boogeyman¡¯, Mr Borges-Juventus. But if you¡¯re asking why we Pretjordians all desperately await the day she¡¯s brought to heel, the answer couldn¡¯t be simpler. Theft, smuggling, extortion. You name a crime, she¡¯s been guilty of it, and the list of her victims grows only longer. But even putting that aside, she¡¯s wanted by Krongard for the most heinous, most unthinkable crime of them all: attempted regicide.¡± Zacko raised both of his eyebrows. Serac stared blankly. ¡°Regicide?¡± she parroted. ¡°She tried to kill the king? You mean King Tyr, right? But¡­ why is that so bad?¡± Palmr looked at her like she¡¯d grown a fin out of her back. ¡°Did I hear you correctly, Ms Edin? Why is that so bad? The Finless made an attempt on King Tyr¡¯s life! Our Realm Immortal!¡± ¡°Well, yeah, but she¡¯s a Wayfarer, isn¡¯t she?¡± Until this moment, Serac hadn¡¯t even thought of it, but the truth couldn¡¯t be more self-evident. There¡¯d definitely been some powerful magic behind the way she and Zacko had been yeeted out of the river. ¡°As a Wayfarer, you ascend in one of two ways. Work with the Realm Immortal for brownie points, or you smite them instead. What¡¯s so bad about a Wayfarer trying to, you know, Wayfare?¡± Loud murmurs went up from the hungry shoppers who were still queued up along the aisles. Palmr continued to gape in unadorned amazement. Meanwhile, Zacko threw his head back and burst into booming laughter. Did I say something so funny? None of my ¡®real¡¯ jokes ever got this big a reaction from Zacko¡­ And through it all¡­ absolutely nothing from the sturgeon twins. Eventually, the laughter died down, enough for a catfish man¡¯s sanctimonious cough to be heard. ¡°In tolerance of your naivety, Ms Edin, I¡¯ll pretend I didn¡¯t hear that.¡± Palmr had regained his composure. ¡°The fact remains, however, that you and Mr Borges-Juventus are in deficit as far as your social capital in Pretjord is concerned. And I can¡¯t think of a better way to torpedo your way out of the red and into the black¡­ than to capture the worst criminal we¡¯ve known during King Tyr¡¯s reign.¡± ¡°I hear you, fatso, but then riddle me this,¡± Zacko again, as he wiped a tear from his eye. ¡°From the sound of it, all your Yaksha Wayfarers¡ªincluding your boys here, I¡¯d assume¡ªhave tried and failed to deal with this Finless problem of yours. What makes you think us poor little outrealmers, freshly ascended and with our Karmic Levels barely north of 30, could do any better?¡± A good question, the answer to which Serac herself was curious to learn. And for all the ways he repulsed her, at least on this count, Palmr Jorgensen seemed to know what he was talking about. ¡°The problem with our Yaksha Wayfarers is that they¡¯re known quantities¡ªevery last one, including my boys.¡± The catfish man¡¯s beady eyes glinted anew with confident menace. ¡°But you two will be going in with a fresh perspective, new ideas, and a whole slew of spells and techniques the Finless has never seen before. All the more reason to stop you from using them willy nilly, in case she¡¯s watching from the shadows. And even putting all that aside, I daresay you don¡¯t have a choice in the matter.¡± ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Serac gave back as good as she got, letting her own eyes shine bright. ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Like I said, before you start laying down your Paths on our Realmtree, you first need to earn capital. In other words, pay your dues and show your worth. Make no mistake about it, Wayfarers. No one in this Realm eats for free.¡± 80. [INTERLUDE] The Nameless 80. [INTERLUDE] The Nameless Renate Sandvik had no name. And Renate Sandvik had many names, all given to her long after the Realm had forgotten who she really was. She was reminded of one such name now, as she approached a stranger who lay rotting on the side of a dried-up stream. ¡°You¡¯re her, aren¡¯t you?¡± The man used his fading strength to turn his bloodshot eyes up at her. ¡°The Reaper. I suppose I knew this day would come.¡± She was on her way ¡®home¡¯ from her failed run in Stamgard. He was on his way to die alone, knowing full well it wasn¡¯t death that awaited him. Their paths now converged on the side of a dried-up stream, one of many that carved up the Realmtree¡¯s Roots, down where the resident souls had been abandoned by gods, man, and nature alike. The starving man was younger than Renate, though it was hard to tell from his crumpled posture and withered scales. And whether out of youthful naivety, cowardice, or perhaps even hope, he¡¯d driven himself away from his peers as his sanity waned, thus turning his back on the age-old Rotter tradition of looking after their own¡ªbefore it was too late. Renate stared at the Starveling with her wide-set amphibian eyes. She gave no acknowledgment of the man¡¯s ¡®greeting¡¯¡ªif it could even be called such¡ªinstead focusing on his features for the tell-tale signs of imminent Frenzy. For her wares were valuable, and she couldn¡¯t just hand them out to every starving Rotter she crossed Paths with. Much to her chagrin, the signs were there. The man¡¯s irises had taken on a sinister red tinge, distinct still from the engorged capillaries that marked the whites of his eyes. His scales had shriveled and flaked en masse, taking on a sorry, sun-dried appearance. The man could barely see, let alone read the ripples around him. And that still left perhaps the most convincing sign of them all: an earnest plea from the Starveling himself. ¡°Please¡­¡± The man¡¯s eyes squeezed out the last drops of liquid left in his body. ¡°Please, Reaper. I thought I could do it, but I can¡¯t. I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯m just so scared.¡± The irony wasn¡¯t lost on Renate. The Stammers¡ªwith their creature comforts¡ªwere easily frightened by an invisible shadow that occasionally passed through their midst, wreaking no greater havoc than to nick a few knacks the townspeople could live without. Yet here was a destitute Rotter who welcomed the same shadow with open arms, knowing full well it wasn¡¯t death that awaited him. But when it really comes down to it, Renate thought, they¡¯re all frightened of the same thing. The new, the unknown, the undefined. Without a word, Renate reached into her hooded diving suit and pulled out OYSTER. The Yaksha wore her Zealous Instrument over her right shoulder and across her chest, with each of its components fastened onto a homemade bandolier. In truth, it was nine ¡®instruments¡¯ in one, each of them a waterproof container that opened on a hinge to reveal its contents¡ªlike an ¡®oyster¡¯, as it were. A cumbersome mechanism, perhaps¡ªone not particularly suited to the frenetic pace of battle. Renate, however, liked her Instrument¡¯s cumbersome, multi-layered access, for it bolstered the knowledge that she alone of all souls in the afterlife was privy to OYSTER¡¯s secrets. On this occasion, her use of OYSTER was an especially secret one, indeed. [Pearl of SERENITY]. A complicated formula that had taken years of her life to perfect, one that not even Pathsight could reconstitute, meaning she had to brew it anew after each use. Yes. The Reaper¡¯s wares were valuable, resource-intensive, and time-consuming to produce. She couldn¡¯t just hand them out to every starving Rotter she crossed Paths with. She chose this stranger, however, for her latest act of mercy¡ªto grant him a moment of [Serenity] while something of the man¡¯s self still remained. By then, the Starveling had lost his faculty of speech. He barely had the strength to open his mouth, so Renate knelt down, held his chin, and force-fed him the contents of the Pearl¡ªa dull, milky-white substance. Some of it washed back and dribbled over her hand, but she held it in place, gently but firmly tilting the man¡¯s head until the Pearl had emptied. Then she sat with him a while and waited. She waited until the red faded from his eyes, only for the lids to fold over them for the last time. Until the flaky hand with which he squeezed hers went limp, before it dissolved into Souldust along with the rest of his emaciated body. [-100 ? (deduction)] A measly 100 ?. As far as Pathsight was concerned, that was all this destitute Rotter¡¯s life was worth. If Renate had waited even a few minutes longer, the man would¡¯ve Frenzied, which would¡¯ve allowed her to smite him for a reward rather than a penalty. And yet¡­ they didn¡¯t call her ¡®the Reaper¡¯ for nothing. Renate rose to her webbed feet and resumed her trudging march back home, with an even heavier heart than when she¡¯d begun the trip. This far down in the Roots, what little vegetation hadn¡¯t dried and withered was scarce and far between. As for water, most Rotters would be lucky to find even a puddle that might¡¯ve seeped through to the surface from the Realmtree¡¯s internal reservoir. For at least several years now, not one drop of the Sanzu River and its thousand branches flowed through Rotgard¡¯s rugged terrain. King Tyr¡¯s Waterways Redistribution Act had made sure of that. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. It all meant there was very little cover with which a career thief could hide her tracks. But she also didn¡¯t much need to. For this far down in the Roots, everyone was a shadow that floated unseeing and unfeeling¡ªunfeeling, save for the [Hunger] that still drove their every impulse. Case in point, Renate trudged past several more Yakshas in varying states of starvation, not one of whom looked up nor fluttered their scales as she passed. Even if they were scared of her, they wouldn¡¯t have the strength to act on that fear. Today, home was buried within a niche next to the taproot, camouflaged beneath a mound of dirt and dead leaves Renate herself had painstakingly built. But as she approached, the home moved on its own accord, undoing her work before staring at her with a pair of opaque, morose eyes. Renate sighed, then patted the giant tortoise on the dirt-covered bump above its nostrils. She then unstrapped a bundle of fresh turtlegrass (the irony wasn¡¯t lost on her) she¡¯d managed to collect on the downstream leg of her journey. ¡°Here,¡± she said (a little more gruffly than she¡¯d intended) as she shoved the whole bundle into Munkfred¡¯s gaping mouth. The tortoise waited for her to pull her hand out before going to town on its long-awaited lunch, then blinked several times in satisfaction. Renate¡¯s irritation softened as she watched her house/tortoise eat. You¡¯re almost certainly the happiest creature in all of Rotgard. Not being a turtle, you¡¯re not as dependent on water. And even if I sometimes come home empty-handed from my smuggling runs, at least there¡¯s always plenty of turtlegrass to go around. She gave Munkfred one more pat on the nose, then clambered onto its shell. Careful not to disturb the camouflage more than it already had been, she tiptoed her way to the shell¡¯s apex, where she pulled on a handle that had been disguised as a tree branch. The hatch opened¡ªanother example of a hinged lid in Renate¡¯s life¡ªrevealing a hollow chamber that was just large enough for one frog-typed Yaksha to live inside. Large enough for one Yaksha, perhaps, but rather cramped for one plus her bedridden housemate. Inge Bjornsdatter was sleeping, as was how she spent most of her days. She¡¯d been a sound and tidy sleeper for as long as Renate had known her. Presently, most of her wizened, koi-typed body was tightly wrapped in the layers of Nether-kelp Renate had left her in. Renate reached over and touched the kelp, and found to her dismay that it¡¯d dried much quicker than she¡¯d anticipated. It meant Inge¡¯s illness was getting worse, and also that Renate herself would have to go on a water run soon¡ªon top of another attempt at the Realmtree Dew. She withdrew her hand, but her eyes lingered upon her friend¡¯s face. Inge was the second most beautiful Yaksha Renate had ever met (second only to her own mother), so much so that it was a wonder the woman had managed to evade King Tyr¡¯s amorous attention throughout the decades she¡¯d spent in Krongard. Even in her advanced age, her beauty remained evident, most prominently in the red-and-gold ribbons that accented her eyes upon a field of lotus-white. But even those beautiful ribbons were starting to show the ravages of the Siphoning Disease. Cracks, flakes, and that dreaded sun-dried appearance. Inge was in no danger of Frenzying (and would never be, for as long as Renate drew breath), but the ¡®end¡¯ was coming for her all the same. Perhaps Renate had spent too much time staring. Or perhaps something about her brooding energy had stirred the ripples upon Inge¡¯s scales. At any rate, the ribbons of red-and-gold unfurled to reveal a pair of hazy, sleep-addled eyes. ¡°Renna,¡± the old woman whispered, her words like the flaking bits of a yellowed ginkgo leaf, ¡°how long have you been home? I¡¯m sorry, child, I haven¡¯t fixed you breakfast yet.¡± Renate swallowed a lump in her throat and forced a smile. ¡°Go back to sleep, nana. And you don¡¯t have to worry about breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. You¡¯re not working in the palace anymore, remember?¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Inge closed her eyes again, even as her dainty koi mouth formed a little ¡®o¡¯. ¡°How silly of me. My memory isn¡¯t what it used to be. But¡­ but, um¡±¡ªthe ¡®o¡¯ flattened and bounced several times as Inge smacked her lips¡ª¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m just so thirsty. You wouldn¡¯t happen to have a pitcher of lemon water nearby, would you, doll?¡± It¡¯s been an age and a half since we¡¯ve had a pitcher of anything, nana. ¡°Of course,¡± Renate said aloud, ¡°just one Ksana.¡± Stifling a heavy sigh, Renate reached for OYSTER again, this time pulling out [Pearl of WISDOM]. It was a swirling blue liquid, one she¡¯d use to recover MP in the heat of battle, but for an Anchored, diseased soul like Inge, it¡¯d do little more than slake her thirst. She could¡¯ve used any of her remaining Pearls, but she chose [Wisdom]¡ªmainly because she knew Inge like the taste. Renate herself had never given any thought to the gustatory merits of her various potions, but she supposed [Wisdom] did have something of a lemony aftertaste. On this occasion, Inge could take in no more than three sips before she coughed and wheezed with fatigue. Renate then downed the rest of the Pearl herself, not because she needed the MP, but simply because a Pearl couldn¡¯t be resealed once used¡ªjust another cumbersome wrinkle to her brand of magic. Besides, unlike in the case of [Serenity], there were plenty of Waystations around (all hidden, of course) where she could reconstitute a new batch. Inge smacked her lips a few more times, this time in something that resembled satisfaction. Then her breathing settled, looking as though she¡¯d gone right back to sleep. Renate leaned down and brushed her own lips against Inge¡¯s forehead, just above her red-and-gold ribbons. She then stood¡ªor half-stood, anyway, with her finless back arched to fit the contours of Munkfred¡¯s tortoise shell. Up the hatch and out she went¡ªback to work. Her run this morning might have ended in disaster, but that didn¡¯t mean she could afford to wallow in self-pity. Because she needed the Realmtree Dew to brew a [Pearl of REBALANCING]¡ªjust another complicated formula Pathsight couldn¡¯t replicate. Because [Rebalancing] was the only way to slow the progress of the Siphoning Disease¡ªthe only way to keep the ¡®end¡¯ at bay. Because Inge Bjornsdatter was the last living soul in all of Pretjord who would still call Renna Sandvik by her name. 81. Row Row Row Your Shell 81. Row Row Row Your Shell [Designations: STROKE-SIDE OAR and BOW-SIDE OAR] [Instrument Class: AUXILIARY] [Anchored Realm: PRETJORD (+1)] [Item Description: Some with clearer memories of the Mundane than others tell of an aquatic species that was valued for their eggs. Hard roe, salt-cured and consumed as garnish or spread. A decadent delicacy, its value elevated far beyond its constituent parts. ¡°Pay your dues and show your worth.¡± But what if that ¡®worth¡¯ was derived by reducing you to an object of harvest? Would you be satisfied with your lot in life¡ªaccept your worth as defined by everyone but yourself and baked into the system from even before your birth? Or would you take up oars and row¡ªup and up and up the stream, against the currents that would wash you bare?] *** Serac held on for dear life as a pair of oarsmen ferried her down the Sanzu River. The sturgeon twins¡¯ turtle of choice was big enough to be a four-seater. At least it should¡¯ve been, if it weren¡¯t for the Tomasens¡¯ ample frames and Serac herself needing to be on all fours as she clung to the turtle shell¡¯s slippery surface. It all left poor Zacko as the odd man out, standing on tippy toes upon a tiny corner in the back of the shell. ¡°Would you at least try to get on your feet?¡± the Manusya complained, looking down on the Rakshasa¡¯s cowering figure with naked contempt. ¡°It¡¯s just that we¡¯re on our way to take on allegedly the most dangerous criminal in the Realm, and if it were up to me, I¡¯d like to get there without my legs falling asleep.¡± ¡°Must¡­ stay¡­ low to ground¡­¡± Serac managed in a severely muffled voice. ¡°Must¡­ not¡­ fall in water¡­¡± To be perfectly fair to the sturgeon twins¡¯ boating skills, however, the ride itself was remarkably smooth. Serac couldn¡¯t see the scenery that passed her by (owing to her head being buried in turtle shell), but that only made her more sensitive to the turtle¡¯s every pitch and yaw, of which there were very few. For all their silent glaring and Palmr-Jorgensen-pandering, the Tomasens had, at least so far, given every indication of being a pair of competent Wayfarers. Shouldn¡¯t be surprised, I guess. They¡¯ve made it to KL-41, after all, and that should count for something. But exactly how much it counted towards their present mission still remained to be seen. Serac herself had yet to get over her concerns about a ¡®scouting report¡¯ on the deviant Wayfarer the locals called the Finless. ¡°No one knows how, but she¡¯s managed to strike her own name from Pathsight¡¯s records,¡± Palmr the catfish businessman had explained, shortly before sending the Wayfaring quartet on their way, ¡°which means no designation, and no way to connect her to any of the families listed on the Pretjordian census. But she still flaunts the rest of her status sheet like a badge of honor¡ªor perhaps as a warning to the other Wayfarers.¡± ¡°Warning? How scary are we talking?¡± ¡°As of the most recent confirmed sighting by Kronvakt personnel, she¡¯s at a Karmic Level of 63 and a Liminal Karma cache of 17,000 ? or thereabouts¡ªwhich my boys tell me should be around halfway between KL-63 and -64.¡± Serac had blinked several times while Zacko had let out a low whistle. ¡°63? But that¡¯s already past the Karmic Benchmark for ascension from Pretjord to Tidereign, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Correct, Wayfarer. But this Finless individual clearly hasn¡¯t received an Ascension Mandate. Perhaps that¡¯s why she made an attempt on the Realm Immortal¡¯s life.¡± ¡°Do we know anything about her Instruments?¡± this from Zacko. ¡°She uses a Zealous Instrument called OYSTER,¡± Palmr with the prompt reply. ¡°As far as anyone can tell, it¡¯s a¡­ dispensary of sorts, consisting of chemicals that imbue herself and others with various effects.¡± ¡°A potion master, eh?¡± Zacko with a sneer of amusement. ¡°Interesting. Can¡¯t say I¡¯ve come across too many of those. And her Auxiliary?¡± ¡°A heavy steel shovel called DREDGER. It looks comically large on the Finless¡¯s tree-frog frame, but don¡¯t let that deceive you. She swings it around like it weighs nothing, whipping the surrounding terrain into whatever shape that suits her. If you ask me, her Auxiliary is even more of a nuisance to deal with than her main Instrument.¡± ¡°Sounds like she could be a handful, but is that really all?¡± Serac had asked dubiously. ¡°Your ¡®boys¡¯ and King Tyr¡¯s stable of Wayfarers tried for years and failed to capture her, right? Even if she¡¯s really good at hiding, running, and swimming, you wouldn¡¯t think a potion-slinger with a shovel on her back could take on the whole Realm by herself.¡± ¡°And you¡¯d be right, Ms Edin,¡± Palmr had said as his eyes glinted anew. ¡°For you see, the Finless has got something of an army behind her as well.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°You mean she has sympathizers?¡± Zacko. ¡°No. Not an army of Yakshas¡ªbut of Wildspawns. I¡¯d say it¡¯s inconceivable if the truth of it weren¡¯t plain for all to see. It¡¯s as if all of Pretjord¡¯s untamed and monstrous elements have rallied around and chosen the Finless as their Aberrant queen. And it¡¯s thanks in large part to their help that she¡¯s evaded capture all these years¡­¡± As she continued to hug the turtle shell, Serac thought back on this rather formidable profile of her latest smiting target. Something about the Finless¡¯s characterization as an ¡®Aberrant queen¡¯ had reminded her something of herself¡ªor if not herself, then at least her regal ¡®third entity¡¯ that occasionally came out to play. It was for this among several other reasons that Serac hadn¡¯t quite brought herself to think of Lady Pink as an ¡®enemy¡¯. ¡°I¡¯d suggest, Wayfarer, that you do away with useless distractions and focus on the task,¡± Trippy scolded in his usual monotone. ¡°As a newcomer to the Realm, it¡¯d behoove you to play by the local rules and customs. It seems to me that capturing this criminal is your most direct route to earning an ¡®in¡¯ with the Realm Immortal. And I shouldn¡¯t need to explain to you how valuable that could prove to be.¡± ¡°But she¡­ saved¡­ me and Zacko¡­ from drowning¡­¡± Serac spoke into the turtle shell. ¡°I just¡­ can¡¯t imagine¡­ someone who¡¯d do that¡­ to be all bad¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re still on about that?¡± Zacko scoffed from his tippy-toed height. ¡°That and this are two different matters. The locals have given us a lead, and now we follow it until we get a better one. Isn¡¯t that how we¡¯ve always done it?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ trust¡­ Mr Catfish¡­ so mean¡­ to Petey¡­¡± Zacko acknowledged this with a good-natured chuckle. The sturgeon twins continued to row their boat in silence. ¡°I don¡¯t like fatso anymore than you do, Serac, but like my mama always used to say: don¡¯t bite the hand that feeds you. At least¡­ not until we can reliably feed ourselves. Look, let¡¯s just see how it all plays out, yeah? You know me; I¡¯m light on my feet, always ready to roll with the punches.¡± If the Tomasens had any opinions about their passengers openly insulting their boss and casually discussing a possible betrayal, they didn¡¯t show it. They continued to row in competent silence, steering the turtle ever downstream towards the Reamltree¡¯s so-called ¡®Roots¡¯. At some point, however, the turtle began to slow, prompting Serac to look up out of curiosity. From what she could see, the party had come to some sort of ¡®bottleneck¡¯. The river here was much narrower than she¡¯d remembered it in the heart of Stamgard, and its banks were manned on either side by Yakshas in matching uniforms. Serac strained her hell bumpkin¡¯s knowledge in an effort to describe the men¡¯s attire, somehow coming up with the word camouflage. Their piscine features were mostly covered in a one-piece suit from collar to ankles, dyed with various shades of blue and green, and form-fitting save for the slit on the back to allow for the dorsal fin. If it weren¡¯t for their leaning over the riverbank to wave down the party, they would¡¯ve blended right into the trees and bushes around them. Oh, and if it weren¡¯t also for the guns slung around their shoulders. Serac did a double-take, thinking they looked like a version of REVOLVER with a longer barrel and a more slender build. Upon closer inspection, however, she saw that the ¡®barrel¡¯ ended in a prominent arrowhead with a rope that attached to the main body. ¡°Those are harpoon guns,¡± Zacko offered his Manesferan knowledge, ¡°and the fellows holding them look to me like¡­ soldiers.¡± The ¡®soldiers¡¯ didn¡¯t delay the party for long. As soon as they saw who the oarsmen were, they stood at attention and saluted, before turning around and slinking back into the woods. Right on cue, the twins resumed their rowing, and the turtle picked its speed back up. Everything happened without the exchange of a single word. ¡°A trained army of Anchored souls,¡± Serac muttered fluently, momentarily forgetting her fear of water. ¡°Never seen that before. Is this like a Secondary Transfer thing for some of the Wayfarers here, do you think?¡± ¡°Could be,¡± Zacko agreed slowly, ¡°but even if that were the case, something¡¯s definitely fishy here¡ªpun very much intended. What we passed just now was clearly a checkpoint of some kind. And you don¡¯t post armed men at a checkpoint unless you¡¯ve got something to keep out¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªOr unless you¡¯ve got something to hide.¡± Zacko smiled down at Serac. ¡°Now you¡¯re thinking like a Wayfarer who¡¯s seen some shit.¡± If the Tomasens had any opinions about their passengers openly hatching a conspiracy theory or two, they didn¡¯t show it. They continued to row in competent silence, even as the waterway re-widened past the bottleneck. Seeing this, Serac buried her face again in the turtle shell, reminded as she was of the terrors of a watery abyss. But not for long. For the whole turtle pitched suddenly and yawed violently, forcing a hydrophobic Rakshasa to tighten her grip, even as she jerked her head up in alarm. The river, hitherto uniform and consistent in its currents, now bubbled and roiled, as if agitated by some great force. Even an uninitiated outrealmer like Serac knew right away that it wasn¡¯t anything natural that had caused the sudden turbulence. Which meant veterans like the Tomasen twins were all the more ready to react to changing waters. They¡¯d already taken their OARS out of the water, now holding them by their sides like the weapons they were. The first ¡®Wildspawn¡¯ jumped out from the turtle¡¯s portside (STROKE-SIDE), only to be immediately batted away by Lars. It happened so fast Serac could barely see what the thing looked like, but a Pathsighted text lingered to give it a name: [RUMPETROLL]. A second attack soared in from starboardside, and this time, Serac was alert enough to catch its bizarre figure before it too bounced away at a swing of Hans¡¯s BOW-SIDE OAR. The thing was about the size of a large dog¡ªnot as imposing as an Ulvknall, but neither was it anything to sneeze at. The bulk of its roughly ovoid body was black, slimy, and writhing throughout, as though it contained some other alive thing that wanted to burst out. It also sported a distinct tail¡ªa flat, veiny fin that spun and oscillated at speed, sending river water flying everywhere. Somewhere amidst the panic induced by turbulent water and her wonderment at seeing a new Aberrant, Serac managed to concoct the strangest thought: that thing kind of looks like Froggy¡ªif Froggy were black, slimy, and didn¡¯t have limbs. At the same time, she reached for REVOLVER at her waist. Still too scared to stand, and utterly inexperienced in the art of shooting from a prone position, she nevertheless willed herself to fight back against an unfamiliar enemy. And that was when one of the twins¡ªLars, according to which side of the turtle he stood on¡ªopened his sturgeon mouth to speak for the first time. ¡°No,¡± he said, voice surprisingly gentle and refined for a muscular brute such as he. ¡°You do nothing. This for me and my brother.¡± 82. Gently Merrily Hastily Brutally 82. Gently Merrily Hastily Brutally [Designation: COASTER] [Instrument Class: ZEALOUS] [Anchored Realm: PRETJORD (+1)] [Item Description: In times of yore, Rotgardian children would gather once a year and play upon the Netherpool, frozen solid by the wintry winds. They¡¯d trade in their diving fins for rickety skates, with blades sharp enough to stitch a seasonal tapestry of their escapades. Some of these intrepid adventurers even invented a game, where players used sticks to pass a flat disc to each other¡ªdubbed a ¡®coaster¡¯ for the way it smoothly sailed on ice. Victory came down to skill, grit, and¡ªmost important of all¡ªteamwork. My, how the valleys echoed then with laughter and zeal. And how I miss the sounds of those vibrant winters, here upon the Realmtree¡¯s withering Roots.] *** Serac¡¯s first instinct was to push back. It wasn¡¯t in her nature to be passive, especially when there was Karma up for grabs and when she¡¯d already spent the whole ride as a passenger. But then a sudden swell from the water caused the turtle to roll, nearly 90 degrees until one side of it (along with Serac¡¯s PULVERIZER arm) dipped into the water. And that was enough to put the fear back in a dense-boned Rakshasa, as she desperately tightened her grip on the turtle shell. Everyone else on the boat handled the turbulence with far more grace. Zacko¡ª¡®light on his feet¡¯, as he himself had so claimed¡ªhopped off his tippy-toes and balanced himself on the emergent edge of the shell. Lars on the portside leaned down until he lay nearly horizontally over the water, then pushed his OAR against the riverbank¡ªa circus trick made only possible by his towering frame and rangy reach. Finally, Hans on the starboardside completed the save by using his own considerable weight to flatten the turtle back onto the water. All in all, it was an incredible feat of reflex, athleticism, and teamwork. So much so that Serac would¡¯ve stood up and cheered if she weren¡¯t so busy keeping herself from falling off the shell. Then there were also the questions of what and how. What had caused the turtle to nearly capsize, and how? She didn¡¯t have to wait long for an answer. Another Rumpetroll came flying in from the portside. Lars, as before, swatted it away with extreme prejudice. But then the Rumpetroll, instead of flopping back into the water, exploded in midair. Serac came to an understanding then, even as she wiped off and spat out bits of Rumpetroll goop. These things are ticking time bombs! And one of them must¡¯ve gone off right underneath us earlier, to have sent the turtle rolling like that! Which meant, for the duration of this fight, the sturgeon twins¡¯ OARS served as much a defensive purpose as an offensive one. It also meant, if the Rumpetrolls were smart enough, they¡¯d act as torpedoes as much as grenades. And that was exactly what they did. Writhing balls of black slime came from everywhere: portside, starboardside, overhead, and underwater. Serac braced for impact, just in case, but she had an inkling that this wasn¡¯t anything the twins couldn¡¯t handle. The Yaksha Wayfarers didn¡¯t disappoint. As soon as the Rumpetrolls turned up their assault on the boat, the Tomasens adopted a new defensive strategy. First, Hans dove fully into the water, while Lars remained on the turtle shell. The drier of the twins then became something of a Yaksha whirlwind as he uncoiled a flurry of spinning OAR-swings, thus repelling a handful of Rumpe-grenades before they could go off. If his brother was a whirlwind, then the submerged Hans was a whirlpool. From where Serac held on for dear life, she perceived only a tremendous rotational pull that nearly sucked the whole boat into the water. She could only imagine, however, that it was the Rumpe-torpedoes that felt the full force of Hans¡¯s attack. The first wave had been soundly rebuffed, but more Rumpetrolls soon swarmed the boat. The Tomasen brothers continued their spirited defense, but not before switching roles. Now Lars dove underwater, at exactly the same Ksana as a dripping-wet Hans jumped back onto the turtle shell. The transition was seamless, synchronous, and perfectly timed to allow the Yakshas a brief breather to recover Stamina. It required not only athleticism but also perfect coordination. So much so it was a wonder the twins had pulled it off without so much as a signal, verbal or otherwise. But then Serac remembered a special trait of Yaksha physiology, one Petter the mackerel had earlier demonstrated. Ripple-reading. The sturgeon twins didn¡¯t need to communicate, because they could read and react to each other¡¯s movements, faster than thought. It probably also helps that they¡¯re, well, twins. Serac finally began to relax as she settled into the best seat in the house. She then sat back (read: lay flat on her stomach) and watched as her OARSmen batted away wave after wave of grenades and torpedoes. Not to be outdone, however, the Rumpetrolls pulled out a collaborative feat of their own. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. First, the water calmed for a moment, lulling Serac into a false sense of security. Then a large, dark figure emerged further downstream, covering the entire width of the river while towering over a traveling quartet and their four-seater turtle. Oh, what is it now? This new ¡®what¡¯, as it turned out, was more of the same but in a wildly different arrangement. For the shapeless mass that spanned the river was made up entirely of writhing black slime¡ªin other words, a swarm of Rumpetrolls stacked and clumped together to form a giant. Pathsight even had a new label for the monstrosity: [Rumpejette]. Now, it was this upgraded and upsized Wildspawn that imposed its own center of hydrodynamic gravity. The whole river rushed toward the giant at speed, with the turtle boat powerless to fight the currents. Forget grenades and torpedoes; the Rumpejette stood as a barricade coated and primed with explosives, waiting to swallow the boat and its occupants into its world of hurt and goop. For the first time, genuine worry creeped into Serac¡¯s mind. This is bad, and it doesn¡¯t look like something the OARS could handle. Maybe it¡¯s finally time for me and Zacko to step in¡­ but how? But then she¡¯d forgotten that the OARS were merely the Tomasen twins¡¯ Auxiliary¡ªthat they still had their ¡®shared¡¯ Zealous Instrument up their sleeve. And she was soon reminded of that fact in emphatic fashion. Seemingly out of nowhere, both twins produced an object in each of their hands. The objects were each about the size and appearance of a wooden roundshield¡ªif said roundshield was cut cleanly in half. The twins then reached across and pushed the two halves together into a full, circular disc: COASTER. Then several things happened in rapid sequence. Lars on the portside took the fully assembled COASTER and dropped it to his side, such that it looked as though the whole thing might fall into the river. On the starboardside, Hans jumped into the air, far enough that his entire frame now hovered above the water. In the exact Ksana where COASTER touched the river¡¯s rushing current, Lars brought down his STROKE-SIDE OAR, sweeping it across his body to then make meaty contact with the wooden disc. With a satisfying ¡®ping!¡¯, COASTER flew across the width of the river, skimming the water and leaving behind a trail of solid, frozen ice. By then, Hans on the starboardside was ready to receive the pass. He too gave his BOW-SIDE OAR a mighty swing, meeting COASTER with a sweetly hit one-timer and redirecting it downstream. As he completed his jump, he landed¡ªnot in water¡ªbut on ice, the very same that had been conjured by his brother¡¯s magic. If Lars¡¯s pass was ice, then Hans¡¯s ¡®shot¡¯ was lightning. In less than the blink of an eye, COASTER slammed into the Rumpejette¡¯s center. As it did so, it also froze everything in its path, including its giant Wildspawn of a target. In an instant, what was once a writhing black mass became a frozen block of ice. Serac¡¯s jaw dropped as she took in the action with eyes both naked and Pathsighted. [RUMPEJETTE Status Effect: SNAP FREEZE] Snap freeze? For a hell bumpkin like Serac, this would surely have been the first time she¡¯d heard such a phrase. Yet the words¡ªas well as the physical phenomenon they described¡ªresonated with some unseen recesses of her consciousness. As if in response, her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled, all despite her [Satiety] gauge sitting comfortably half-full. Because something within her inaccessible memories told her that [Snap Freeze] was something you did to food. Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled because in those same memories, that food had been freaking delicious. But far be it for her to interrupt a smite just to satisfy her culinary curiosities¡ªespecially when that smite had been earned in such majestic style. She sat back (read: arched her back and bent her elbows a little) and watched as the Tomasen twins finished the job. The OARSmen casually strolled over to the frozen Rumpejette, using the icy path for solid footing. They then each stood on either side of the giant as they swung their OARS to meet in the middle. One hit. One hit was all that was needed to smash the whole thing into icy smithereens. ¡°Woooooooo!!¡± Before she knew it, Serac had stood up (read: had managed to get on her knees at least) to cheer. Then she noticed that the turtle was now completely stationary as it rested upon solid ice. Feeling much bolder, she finally did get to her feet, whooping and clapping all the while. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Zacko too seemed to have enjoyed the show. The cross-armed Manusya had stopped short of clapping and cheering, but the smile he wore now was a bright and appreciative one¡ªa far cry from his usual sardonic humor. For several blissful moments, Serac lost herself in the hype of it all. She forgot all about Palmr Jorgensen¡¯s unpleasantness, about her misgivings about going after the Finless, and especially about her unkind prejudices against the Tomasen twins. These sturgeons were, not for nothing, KL-41 Wayfarers¡ªveterans of the Path from whom both she and Zacko could learn a thing or two. And they struck especially dashing figures now, lit by swirling Souldust as they stood over the icy rubble of their latest and flashiest smite. But this impromptu bit of communal celebration¡ªfor better or for worse¡ªwas short-lived. For almost as soon as Serac stood to her full height, she nearly lost her footing again, as the ground, nay, the water beneath her roiled anew. Lars¡¯s icy footpath fell away in an instant, broken up into tiny icebergs. The river and its currents began to rush again¡ªsomehow even faster and more unpredictable than with the Rumpejette at their center. Serac immediately resumed her prone position, dropping onto the turtle shell and holding on tight. This forced Zacko back onto his tippy-toes, though he was slightly better off due to the Tomasens¡¯ momentary absence. The oarsmen in question had fallen into the water as the ice broke under them. But they were much stronger swimmers than their passengers; it took them no time to find their way back to the turtle, before breaking through the surface to grab onto the shell from either side. ¡°What is it now?¡± Serac asked the closest twin¡ªHans according to Pathsight. ¡°Have we got another Rumpejette waiting for us downstream?¡± Hans didn¡¯t answer, instead pointing his silent glare downstream¡ªat whatever new threat loomed in the distance. Serac thought she saw his scales vibrate¡ªjust like Petter¡¯s did whenever he was focused on the ripples. Then Hans¡¯s brother spoke from the other side of the turtle, giving word to what the Yakshas could read readily and their outrealmer passengers could only guess at in nervous anticipation. ¡°No,¡± Lars said, with a clear note of urgency in his gentle voice. ¡°Something much bigger. Much worse. The Wildspawns gather to protect their queen.¡± 83. Life Is But a Sinkhole 83. Life Is But a Sinkhole In her novice wisdom, Serac used to think that the Tomasens were fast rowers¡ªperhaps even too fast for her liking. But that was before she learned just how fast a turtle boat could move if the water willed it to. Trees and bushes zoomed by in a blur as the river rushed down the Realmtree¡¯s Roots. The scenery changed so rapidly that Serac didn¡¯t even notice when the lush greenery made way for a barren wasteland. In fact, she was so focused on the impending threat of Wildspawns that she forgot to even be scared of the water. And rightly so, for the threat now came not from the water but the land¡ªfrom the Realmtree itself. From both sides of the river appeared great, hissing globs of Zealous energy. They bubbled to the surface from the roots themselves, before rising into the air to form neat lines. With their green color and densely veiny surface, the globs appeared as poor imitations of dragon blood trees, as they escorted the Wayfaring party¡¯s whitewater rafting course. But the globs, of course, wanted to do more than escort. In pairs of two, they pushed into the middle of the river to waylay the Wayfarers. And as the first pair approached, they did so bearing HP bars and Pathsighted labels, thus revealing themselves as designated Aberrants: [Slangespytt]. Serac half-expected the Tomasen twins to take up OARS and save the day. To her surprise, however, the sturgeons remained in the water, holding firm to either side of the turtle shell. They then pushed and pulled the boat between themselves, thereby guiding it through the Slangespytt minefield. So, the Tomasens had chosen evasion over counterattack. And it seemed to work¡­ at least for the first few Slangespytt pairs. Then the currents proved too unruly and the enemies too many for even the veteran Pretjordians to handle. One green glob caught Hans on the starboardside. The disruption caused a chain reaction of botched dodges that allowed the next several Slangespytts to make contact with all four Wayfarers¡ªincluding a Serac who was still on her knees. [53!] In all fairness, it felt less like an attack and more a slobbery hug from a well-meaning grandma. Serac pushed away the green glob out of reflex, but barely suffered any pain from the encounter. Even the damage was paltry compared to some of the hard hits she used to take on the regular one Realm below. But then¡ª [Wayfarer Status Effect: POISON (x1)] [4!], [4!], [4!], ¡­ [1], [1], [1], ¡­ Ahh, so it¡¯s like that, eh? A damage-over-time effect that ticked by the second, much like [Bleed]. With her [Lesser Regen] active, Serac would be losing three points per second, which seemed rather manageable. But Pathsight wouldn¡¯t give two different names for the same effect, would it? There must be something that sets [Poison] apart from [Bleed]¡­ ¡°Indeed you¡¯re right,¡± Trippy came in with the glossary assist. ¡°The main difference is that [Poison] can stack, up to five times, with the damage rate going up multiplicatively at each stack. If you¡¯re not careful, it can get very out of hand very quickly.¡± Oh, Serac didn¡¯t like the sound of that. All the more reason to demand the local Wayfarers do a better job of protecting the party. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you guys fighting back like you did with the Rumpetrolls?¡± she shouted, her voice yo-yoing along with the boat¡¯s herks and jerks. ¡°Cannot,¡± came Lars¡¯s simple answer. ¡°Slangespytt have full mitigation against Physical and Zealous.¡± Oh, Serac didn¡¯t like the sound of that. Assuming the OARS dealt Physical damage and COASTER Zealous, that meant the Tomasen twins literally had no way to hurt the Slangespytts. No wonder they¡¯d gone straight to all-out evasion. ¡°But they also weak to other damage types,¡± this from Hans on the other side, speaking for the first time ever. Compared to his brother, his voice had a gruff roughness to it, but maybe the Wayfarers¡¯ present predicament had something to do with that. ¡°Well, why didn¡¯t you say so sooner?¡± Zacko stood to his full height, at the same time donning his VISAGE, Buddha-side up. Then his sallow complexion took on a purplish aura as he channeled his Erudite magic. Not to be outdone, Serac finally did remove REVOLVER from its holster. But she chose to remain kneeling and closer to the ground, which was one benefit of being a ranged fighter. Let¡¯s see¡­ I guess the first thing is to convert my damage type. [Chamber One: BLOOD FOR BLOOD] [SLANGESPYTT Status Effect: BLEED] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BLEED] [6!], [6!], [6!], ¡­ Oh, the things Serac did for a smite! Who needed a second stack of [Poison] to kill her faster when she could simply inflict herself with [Bleed]? This second DoT effect pushed her HP loss to a rate she couldn¡¯t be too comfortable with, but now wasn¡¯t the time to worry about that. [190!], [190!] The twins were right. These green globs did seem to have reduced mitigation against Infernal, which gave a significant boost to the imbued bullets¡¯ damage. Two hits were all it took to pop one Slangespytt like a balloon before it could reach the boat. [860 ?] [190!], [190!]. Two more bullets, another Slangespytt down. [860 ?]. Somewhere above Serac¡¯s head, Zacko threw out an imbued fist for a smite of his own. The boat continued to rush with the water, and another pair of Slangespytts bore down on the party in no time. With one Cartridge left in the cylinder, Serac had a sudden flash of inspiration. [190!] into speedload into¡ª If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. [Chamber One: EMBALMER] [100!] [190!] The second shot, instead of deflating the Slangespytt, turned the green glob into a pale-gray one¡ªan [Enlisted Husk]. Serac didn¡¯t expect it to deal any damage to its fellow balls of poison, but she hoped it¡¯d at least serve a defensive purpose. And boy did it ever! The [Husk] stayed in the air and kept pace with the boat, herking and jerking to intercept the oncoming Slangespytts. One by one, the would-be [Poison]-spitters bounced off the turncoat, allowing Serac to pick them off with ease. [190!], [190!], [860 ?]. [190!], [190!], [860 ?]. Of course, the [Husk] couldn¡¯t stay [Enlisted] for long. Serac had more where that came from, however, and she was prepared to turn necromancer again, self-damage be damned. But, as she soon found out, the Realmtree had other ideas. The river shifted again, this time taking a sharp downward turn. The water sank below the level of the river banks, taking with it the turtle boat and its four occupants. The view of the wasteland, as well as the Slangespytts that bubbled from the surface, disappeared from view as the mossy bark of the roots themselves took their place. If Serac had been privy to Zacko¡¯s Manesferan points of reference, she might¡¯ve imagined a bathtub whose stopper had just been pulled loose. As such, the water now quite literally ¡®circled the drain¡¯, caught within some unseen phenomenon of undeniable power. ¡°Uh, Sturgeon Boys? Any explanation for what¡¯s happening?¡± ¡°None,¡± came Lars¡¯s prompt reply, voice utterly calm if somewhat distorted by the spiral movement. ¡°Never see this before. Prepare for anything.¡± Serac took that to mean she ought to hold on even tighter than before. She secured REVOLVER back in its holster, then adopted her trusty prone position as she readjusted her grip on the turtle shell. But her efforts proved to be for naught. For in the next moment, a particularly violent wave rocked the whole boat, throwing not just Serac but the entire party off the turtle and into the water. Oh gods, not this again! The panic response took over as Serac felt her entire body submerged in frigid water. She shut her eyes, flailed her limbs, and prayed for salvation. Gurgle, gurgle, WHOOSH! Salvation came a lot sooner than she¡¯d expected¡ªthough perhaps not in the exact form she¡¯d hoped for. First, there was the terrifying sensation of having her whole body stretched from horn to toe and limb to limb. Just when she thought she might dislocate every joint in her body (which might still be preferable to drowning!), something gave way, instantly releasing her from the water¡¯s hold, before dumping her unceremoniously onto solid ground. [353!] Fall damage! By the gods, she just couldn¡¯t seem to stop losing HP in every manner under the sun. This latest hit did hurt quite a bit, and it took Serac several more seconds of feeling sorry for herself before she managed to sit up and take in her new surroundings. The first thing she noticed was just how dark the place was. Gone was the open wasteland and the glare of the midday sun. She¡¯d ended up somewhere indoors with no windows, lit only by a faint greenish glow that emanated from its walls. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she next realized that the place was huge. The aforementioned walls were to her back, but she could only see, nay, feel open air before, above, and below her. This wasn¡¯t so much ¡®indoors¡¯ as a vast open space that just happened to be shut off from any outside light. The closest reference she had was the throne room in the erstwhile Ossuary, or perhaps the Aviary in the Damnatorium. But even those couldn¡¯t compare to the scale, openness, and verticality of whatever this was. And it was the sheer size of it all¡ªmore so than the darkness or the strangeness¡ªthat made her skin goose bumps and her hair stand on end. Next came the sound. Or sounds, plural. At first, she thought it might be another rushing river, but there was a distinct second element: wind. Mighty currents swept up, down, and across this enormous space, but they were of both the hydro and aero varieties. In fact, Serac felt their combined effects as sprays that periodically whipped against her body and soaked through her clothes. Oh, I don¡¯t like this. I don¡¯t like this one bit. Thankfully, she didn¡¯t have to suffer in isolation. Her senses soon attuned to more movements and sounds: soft footsteps and rustling fabric. ¡°Zacko? Is that you?¡± ¡°No.¡± Serac nearly jumped. The voice was a lot closer than she¡¯d expected¡ªand it hadn¡¯t belonged to the person she¡¯d hoped for. The towering figure of a sturgeon man emerged into the limelight, along with a Pathsighted label that identified him as Lars Tomasen. ¡°Oh,¡± Serac managed, though she suddenly felt even more on edge. ¡°Uh¡­ hello. Are you alright? Have you seen the others?¡± Lars didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he held out his hand, with a small object sandwiched between thumb and index finger. It was a dark-green pellet of some sort, about the size of an acorn and dripping with water. ¡°Uh¡­ what is it? What do you want me to do?¡± ¡°Eat.¡± ¡°Eat?¡± Serac was taken aback, and immediately a little suspicious. For all the twins¡¯ impressive display as Wayfarers, she hadn¡¯t forgotten who they worked for. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure I need to, really. Not that hungry. Yet.¡± ¡°Not for [Hunger],¡± Lars insisted. ¡°Antidote for [Poison].¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Serac said dully, then realization hit her. ¡°Oh! Actually, that might be a good call!¡± [Designation: Motgift Pellet] [Item Class: Consumable] [Item Description: Since time immemorial, Yakshas would take a nibble out of every new fruit, herb, or offal they came across, thus putting their life and body on the line to learn the Realmtree¡¯s secrets. Some met with grand discovery, and others with lethal disaster. Survival of the fittest, or simply the luck of the draw? When consumed by a [Synthesis]-adept Wayfarer, the Motgift Pellet cures one stack of [Poison].] Serac popped the pellet in her mouth and chewed. Unlike the gourmet meal Petter Svensen had served up earlier, this one was soggy and bitter with a sharply acrid aftertaste. It did, however, work as advertised, giving a small bump-up to her [Satiety] gauge while also clearing up one of her DoT effects. But that still left¡ª ¡°You have anything for [Bleed]?¡± Lars asked, voicing the same concern. As a matter of fact, Serac did. One slice of the [Stone-cooked Ulvknall Liver], it too made soggy by river water. It¡¯d also lost all of Chef Petey¡¯s seasoning magic, but Serac ate it greedily nevertheless, knowing that her life depended on it. ¡°Good,¡± Lars pronounced as he watched the Rakshasa finish her food. ¡°Fortunate. Ulvknall liver a rare ingredient. Have not seen in quite some time.¡± That must have been the most number of words either of the Sturgeon Boys had strung together in one breath. For whatever reason, the thought of it made Serac smile. ¡°Aren¡¯t you jealous? I¡¯ve got this special spell that lets me [Harvest] Aberrant parts, you see. Maybe I¡¯m a better Yaksha than you Yakshas!¡± ¡°Hm.¡± Lars sounded as though he couldn¡¯t care less. ¡°We move now. Find others. Find exit. Then find Finless.¡± ¡°Lead the way, chief,¡± Serac said cheerfully, considerably less guarded than just moments prior. ¡°By the way, what even is this place? I¡¯ve never seen an ¡®inside¡¯ that¡¯s so big and spacious¡ªalmost like this should really be an ¡®outside¡¯.¡± ¡°Not certain, but I have guess,¡± Lars said, and even in the dim light, his scales visibly vibrated. ¡°Have heard rumors but never seen for myself. I believe we are inside the Realmtree itself.¡± 84. The Spelunkers 84. The Spelunkers It took Serac no time to accept that this expansive ¡®cave¡¯ was indeed the hollow insides of the Realmtree. Who was she to question the local wisdom? And besides, this probably wasn¡¯t even the most ludicrous thing she¡¯d come across on her travels. With that reality readjustment out of the way, the next order of business was to decide which way to go. Serac¡¯s gut told her ¡®up¡¯¡ªonly natural, given it was the default answer that had gotten her this far. But Lars the local quickly poopooed the suggestion. ¡°You see that?¡± He pointed to something along the massive walls, a ways above the platform where the two of them had landed. Serac squinted until she saw flickers of light that broke up the darkness. The light revealed with it sprays of pressurized water, likely sent in from the same hole the Wayfarers had squeezed through. ¡°Pressure difference,¡± Lars went on to explain. ¡°We cannot go back out same way.¡± Serac had never taken a physics lesson in her life, but funnily enough, this wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d pondered the finer points of fluid dynamics. ¡°But right before we popped through the hole, the river was being drained, wasn¡¯t it?¡± she wondered aloud. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that mean there¡¯s more fluid being pulled into this, uh, cave, than there is collecting on the outside? How does that work?¡± ¡°Not by any natural process,¡± Lars hazarded a guess, though with how authoritative he sounded, he might as well have been stating a fact. ¡°Something causing this movement of air and water inside the Realmtree. Something living. Something below us. Which is why we must go down.¡± ¡°You know this by reading the ripples?¡± Lars nodded, then took a moment to consider before adding, ¡°That and also logic. The further we descend into Rotgard, the fiercer the Wildspawn resistance. Stands to reason resistance fiercest in the lowest part of the Roots. We go low enough, maybe we finally find the root of all our Aberrant problems.¡± That was good enough for Serac. After all, who was she to question the local wisdom? And besides, as far as she was concerned, ¡®fierce Wildspawn resistance¡¯ sounded synonymous with ¡®big fat Karma¡¯. ¡°Well then, what are we waiting for? Let¡¯s go spelunking!¡± All things considered, conditions were ideal for Serac¡¯s first dungeon exploration in Pretjord. After housing the Motgift pellet and Ulvknall liver, she now boasted a nearly full [Satiety] gauge to go along with decent reserves of Cartridge and MP. Her HP had taken a big hit, but her passive healing would take care of that. The only thing missing was her usual Wayfaring partner. And as she glanced at the big Yaksha beside her, it occurred to her that the same could be said for him. ¡°Worried about your brother at all?¡± she asked between pants of effort, as she followed the sturgeon man down a series of narrow ledges that could barely contain her feet. This reverse rock(tree?)-climbing business wasn¡¯t nearly as scary as whitewater rafting, but Serac had nevertheless gone right back to hugging a flat surface¡ªthis time the sheer walls that made up the cave. ¡°No,¡± came the simple reply. Serac shouldn¡¯t have expected much more, but then Lars took another pause before adding, ¡°Not as much as you should be worried about the Manusya.¡± ¡°Zacko?¡± Serac remarked, both surprised and a little puzzled. ¡°Why, just because he¡¯s an outrealmer? But you saw him out there; he¡¯s more than capable of handling himself in¡ª¡± ¡°Quiet.¡± Serac quieted in an instant. She found herself in an unusually obedient mood, partly because she was out of her element, but mostly because Lars had a way about him that made people stand straight (read: hug the wall) and listen. I wonder if this is what being a soldier feels like¡­ Presently, the burly sturgeon man had squatted down atop his ledge, facing outward with his dorsal fin rubbing up against the cave wall. He was as still as a statue, but by now, Serac could tell when a Yaksha was focused on ripple-reading. Is there something just below us that we need to be worried about? Serac gingerly spun herself around until she too had her back against the wall, making sure to maintain multiple points of contact at all times. It took her several seconds to see what Lars had already read. Large, greenish shadows that ebbed and flowed within the semi-darkness below, visually distinct from the dim light that seeped from the cave walls. And as soon as Serac registered these shifting shapes with her eyes, Pathsight intervened to fill in the gaps in her recognition: [Slangespytt]. ¡°How many?¡± she leaned over and asked in the faintest of whispers. From where she stood, she could only capture several globby shadows at a time before they moved out of frame. ¡°At least nine, possibly ten.¡± Serac¡¯s heart sank at the news. Nine or ten [Poison]-spitting globs might be a little too much for one gunslinger and her damage-type-limited companion to handle. Not to mention the health risks involved if she were to [Bleed] herself again, having already eaten the last of her Ulvknall livers. If only there was a way for me to deal Infernal damage in a big¡ªwhat¡¯s that word Zacko keeps using?¡ª¡®AOE¡¯. As soon as she had the thought, however, she realized she did have a spell to fit that description. The real problem was making it count. She leaned over to whisper again: ¡°Is there any room down there for you to run around?¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°A larger platform that curves downward. Much like the one we first landed on. What do you have in mind?¡± ¡°How do you feel about acting as bait? Wait, I mean¡­ did I just say something offensive? I don¡¯t know how you Yakshas feel about¡ª¡± ¡°Spit it out, Rakshasa.¡± ¡°Okay, what I need you to do is draw the Poison Balls¡¯ attention, enough so none of them realize I¡¯m up here. Run around until they all gang up on you, then when I give the signal, you get as far away from them as possible.¡± The plan had sounded feasible in her mind, but the more she talked about it, the less confident she became¡ªespecially given how little she knew about her impromptu partner. ¡°Am I asking too much? That¡¯s too much, isn¡¯t it? Scratch that, let¡¯s think of a different¡ª¡± ¡°No problem.¡± With that, Lars jumped off the ledge and into the shadows below. Caught totally off guard, Serac scrambled to get REVOLVER out of its holster and nearly dropped it. Then she nearly fell off the ledge herself, as she caught her weapon and repositioned, her heart now pounding a mile a minute. Get a hold of yourself! Breathe. Watch. Aim. From her height and with her naked Rakshasa eyes, Serac¡¯s picture of the battle was incomplete. At first, she was dismayed by the sight of shadows moving en masse and out of her visual field. Wrong way, chief! She bit down on her shout of alarm and forced herself to trust once more in the local wisdom. And boy, did the local ever come through! The shadows returned soon enough, having now multiplied to fill Serac¡¯s vision with a dense collection of labels and HP bars. Were there nine or ten? Too many labels and too little time to count, but she just had to trust that her senior Wayfarer knew what he was doing. ¡°Now!¡± [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [235!] [190!] The first tongue of [Catharsis]¡¯s flame found just the one target¡ªthe green shadow that belonged to the topmost Slangespytt. But along with the second tick of damage, the fire spread to several more adjacent globs. [302!], [302!], [302!] Then came [Catharsis]¡¯s third tick, and by then, what had started as a match-fire had grown into a proper hellblaze. For at least one Ksana, Serac¡¯s vision flashed bright-black as all the Wildspawns in the vicinity went up in flames. [605!], [605!], [605!], [605!], [605!], ¡­ Her vision brightened again as the burnt-up remains of the Slangespytts dispersed into swirling Souldust. [860 ?], [860 ?], [860 ?], and so on and so forth. What a haul! Despite Lars Tomasen¡¯s vital role in enabling the smites, all ten had been credited fully to Serac Edin. Another one of Pathsight¡¯s weird imperfections, Serac half-celebrated half-complained, feeling just a tad guilty about the injustice of it all. If you don¡¯t do damage, your part in the smite just doesn¡¯t count¡­ The cheated Yaksha strolled back into the frame then, calm as you like, with his burly figure momentarily illuminated by the fading Souldust. If Lars had any grievances about having his magnificent turn as ¡®bait¡¯ go unrewarded, he didn¡¯t show it. Instead, he merely looked up at Serac¡ªstill perched atop her narrow ledge¡ªand waved her down. Her first instinct was to wave back, wearing a silly smile she knew not the origin of. Then she immediately flushed as she realized what her companion had in mind. ¡°Uh¡­ you want me to jump?¡± Lars nodded. ¡°But¡­ how big is the drop? Should I be worried about fall damage?¡± ¡°As far as Pathsight is concerned,¡± Trippy took his turn as a glossary, his monotone a stark contrast to Serac¡¯s flustered babbling, ¡°an unmitigated fall of 50 to 100 feet is considered ¡®moderate¡¯, incurring damage equal to 30% of the Wayfarer¡¯s max HP. Between 100 and 150 feet is ¡®severe¡¯, worth 50% of max HP. Anything higher than that is considered ¡®lethal¡¯, which, as the name suggests, would¡ª¡± ¡°Yeah, okay, I get the picture. Now, can you help me estimate¡ª¡± ¡°No need to estimate,¡± Lars called up, calm as you like. ¡°I catch you. No fall damage.¡± For several seconds, Serac could only stare blankly. Even when she finally managed to speak, she could only do so in an incoherent stammer. ¡°I, well, sure, that sounds¡­ But chief, you¡¯ve gotta see it from¡­ Like, I don¡¯t mean any offense, but I¡¯m not totally¡ª¡± ¡°Hurry,¡± Lars insisted, with just a touch of impatience. ¡°No time to waste.¡± Resigned, Serac let out a deep breath. Who was she to question the local wisdom? And besides, it wasn¡¯t like she had anywhere else to go but down. When she finally did take the plunge, the moment passed in less than the space of a missed heartbeat. She¡¯d shut her eyes, just like she did whenever she fell in water, and when she opened them again, she found herself in the firm embrace of a silent, towering sturgeon. ¡°Uh¡­¡± she murmured hoarsely, staring up at Lars¡¯s cold yet reassuring glare. ¡°Thanks. And you were right, no fall damage!¡± She hopped off in a hurry and dusted herself off, all the while pointing her eyes to the rocky floor. Now that she and Lars had broken eye contact, Serac was oddly eager to keep it that way. ¡°That was some good running back there, chief,¡± she said, voice still hoarse, and more to fill the silence than anything. ¡°Really made my job easy. None of the Poison Balls got you, did they? Oh, what am I saying, I suppose Pathsight would¡¯ve told me if¡ª¡± Serac froze, suddenly remembering something very important. ¡°Zacko!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°He got hit by one of them Poison Balls, when we were up on the river! Do you think he¡¯s still [Poisoned]? Wait, does your brother have the antidote too?¡± ¡°He does,¡± Lars said matter-of-factly, ¡°but no guarantee he and Manusya washed up in same place. Also, antidote will not help Manusya anyway.¡± Serac frowned, with her earlier mistrust and uncertainties creeping back. ¡°But why? You keep suggesting Zacko can¡¯t hack it here, but he¡¯s made of sterner stuff than you think. I should know; I¡¯ve (literally) been to hell and back with him!¡± Lars shook his head, utterly unbothered by Serac¡¯s rising tempers. ¡°Manusya can conquer all Six Realms. Will not make difference,¡± the Yaksha calmly reminded a newly ascended Rakshasa what made her different from her outrealmer buddy. ¡°Without [Synthesis], Wayfarer cannot receive additional benefit from food. Manusya can eat Motgift Pellet if he wants, sate his [Hunger] a little, but will not cure his [Poison].¡± 85. Rage Against the Currents 85. Rage Against the Currents Serac bounded down the Realm-cave, paying no heed to her own safety nor to the threat of Wildspawns she might jostle out of their hiding places. The wider platform soon shrank and made way for interrupted ledges, holding to the cave¡¯s topographical pattern. Serac¡ªwho earlier had inched her way across with her back against the wall¡ªnow leapt through the obstacles as if they weren¡¯t there, with a grace and skill hitherto unknown even to herself. Gone was the clumsy, dense-boned Rakshasa who¡¯d flattened her stomach against a turtle shell or hemmed and hawed over the height of a fall. With no time to worry or overthink, she¡¯d given herself over to her instincts, which now did a remarkable job of guiding her from precarious foothold to slippery stepping stone. Indeed, she¡¯d turned into a traceur extraordinaire, lithe of body and fleet of foot. If Serac had stopped to think about it, she might¡¯ve realized just how unusual her parkouring talents were¡ªperhaps on a similar level of uncanniness as her natural prowess as a marksman. It was just as well then that she didn¡¯t allow herself to stop, even as she recited her most immediate and urgent mission like a mantra. Must get to Zacko. Must get to him fast. Must get to him ASAP so I can¡­ so I can¡­ So she could do what exactly? And as soon as that first doubt crept into her mind, she lost her footing. Instead of bouncing off the next barely perceptible bump on the wall, her feet found nothing but air. Her stomach was the first thing to drop as she fell from what was surely a ¡®lethal¡¯ height. Then she soon found that falling to her death felt eerily similar to drowning, as she kicked her legs and flailed her arms, desperate for anything to¡­ ¡­ Catch her mid-fall and pull her back up to safety¡ªall in one smooth, powerful motion. Serac felt her cinnabar face redden another shade as she once again found herself in Lars¡¯s arms. For at least a second or two, she forgot all about her hurry and instead concentrated on feeling absolutely mortified. As for the sturgeon man, his ever-impassive face betrayed nothing of what he thought about having saved the Rakshasa¡¯s life twice in quick succession. But his voice did take on an audibly stern edge as he admonished her. ¡°Now not the time to lose head. We take it one ledge at a time. Less haste, more speed.¡± Lars¡¯s words made a lot of sense, of course, and their pithiness might¡¯ve given Zacko¡¯s fabled ¡®mama¡¯ a run for her money. And as Serac bit back on her protests and lowered herself onto a nearby foothold, she forced herself to reflect on the futility of her mission. She could parkour down the Realm-cave at breakneck pace all she wanted, but that couldn¡¯t bring Zacko any closer to full health. It wasn¡¯t like she had some magical way of sharing her Realm Boon with him, nor could she whip up a special antidote that would work on a [Synthesis]-inept Manusya. Really, all she¡¯d achieve by rushing was to put both herself and Lars in danger. And along with her newfound calmness, a rather radical thought occurred to her. The idea was, in a word, distasteful, so much so that it might¡¯ve even shocked and disgusted her¡ªif she hadn¡¯t already tried something similar in the past. ¡°This is more of a thought experiment than anything, so don¡¯t take it too seriously.¡± She kept her voice to barely above a whisper, doing her best to avoid disturbing the ripples. ¡°Right now, all of us¡ªand by us, I mean you, me, your brother, and Zacko¡ªare tethered to the Hubstation up by the Town Market. Which means if we die in here¡ªsay, by slipping up and falling from a lethal height¡ªwe¡¯d all just reconstitute back in Stamgard. It¡¯ll set us back a ways, and we¡¯d lose some Liminal Karma we¡¯d never get back, but it¡¯s also our fastest and surest way to an ¡®exit¡¯. And yet, we both know we¡¯re never gonna try that. I know what my reasons are, but I just wanna hear yours.¡± ¡°I said ¡®less haste¡¯, not hunker down and wax philosophical.¡± ¡°Well, chief, the fastest way for you to get me to budge now is to answer my question. Just think of this as a¡ªwhat¡¯s the phrase¡ªvetting process. For me to decide if you¡¯re someone I could trust with my back.¡± ¡°¡­ Saving your life twice not enough?¡± ¡°Ah, so you are keeping score! See? This is good, let¡¯s keep it rolling. Out with it now.¡± ¡°¡­ Karma you already mentioned. Also want to ensure my brother safe and not¡­ in need of assistance. Besides which, something sinister happening below us, down near the very bottom of the Roots. Needs investigating. The responsible thing as Wayfarer.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve just given me a bunch of practical reasons, and sure, they¡¯re important, too. But I was looking for something more¡­¡± In want of the correct words to express herself, Serac reached across and punched Lars in the chest, right where his heart should¡¯ve sat (assuming Yakshas and Rakshasas shared some anatomical parallels). ¡°Something that bubbles from deep within you¡­ rails and screams at you, until it¡¯s the only thing you can hear and obey.¡± Several moments passed in increasingly awkward silence, with Serac¡¯s outstretched fist starting to tremble from sheer embarrassment. But then finally, mercifully, Lars¡¯s hitherto icy visage cracked to reveal a faint yet unmistakable smile. ¡°You mean rage,¡± he said in a low voice, surprising Serac again with his answer. ¡°Rage at the vagarious cruelties of an unjust world. Rage against the currents that would push me down and wash me bare. It was rage that first drove me and my brother onto our Paths, and perhaps it still simmers at the core of what makes us Wayfarers. I yearn to descend this cave to its very depths, that I may see into the face of what so insolently pulled me and my brother apart and away from our Paths¡ªthat I may punish its ill-timed audacity. Is that the answer you wanted to hear, Serac Edin?¡± Serac¡¯s own face split into a broad grin, even as her spine shivered with excitement. Yes. This was exactly what she¡¯d wanted to hear, and she couldn¡¯t have said it better herself. Where had it even come from? Whatever its origins, it was gone in an instant, as the sturgeon man reset his face in ice. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°No more chatter. We move now.¡± By now, it seemed obvious that Lars Tomasen¡¯s speech mannerisms were economical by choice. For he was clearly capable of something far more eloquent and evocative. And as a still smirking Serac resumed her wall-hugging descent, she allowed herself to hope that she might see that side of Lars again. *** It went without saying that the Realm-cave was about as big as the Realmtree itself. And with no fast-flowing rivers to follow, the pace of the Wayfarers¡¯ progress left much to be desired. Within the cave¡¯s darkness, Serac had no way to measure the passage of time¡ªother than, perhaps, via the gradual decrementation of her [Satiety] gauge, as well as the accompanying gnaws of [Hunger]. She was reminded again of the harsh realities of Pretjordian life¡ªthe ever-present hourglass that was the near-constant need to unite belly with food. All the more reason to conquer this dungeon quickly and get the hell out of here. By then, enough time had passed for Serac to have adopted a stoic stance on Zacko¡¯s unknown fate. After all, hadn¡¯t she been the one to so vehemently defend the Manusya¡¯s resilience and ability to look after himself? Zacko doesn¡¯t need me mothering him; I¡¯m sure he¡¯s gotten over the [Poison] thing already, or if not, he must¡¯ve found a way to deal with it in his own way. The Rakshasa-Yaksha pair ran into more Wildspawns along their way. Serac took the opportunities then to ¡®populate her culinary knowledge base¡¯, as previously suggested by Trippy. Opting to spend Satiety instead of MP, she managed to hit a Rumpetroll and a Slangespytt once each with [Harvest]. The former left behind a clump of dark, gelatinous goo¡ªevidently the writhing ¡®something¡¯ that made the grenade/torpedo so volatile. Serac couldn¡¯t bear to touch it herself and immediately passed it off to Lars for safekeeping. The experiment with the Poison Ball didn¡¯t go as well. For it was only after Serac had fired an imbued bullet from [Chamber Two] that she remembered the Slangespytt had full mitigation against Zealous damage. Which, in this case, also meant that it was immune to being [Harvested]. It was a disappointing (but fairly consequence-free) way to learn that not everything under (or shut off from) the Pretjordian sun could be turned to food. And perhaps it was just as well, considering whatever the Slangespytt left behind would likely be [Poisonous] anyway. All that to say Serac had grown rather bored by the time she and Lars made their way onto the largest platform yet¡ªa massive, hanging flatrock that sloped down from the walls before stretching towards the cave¡¯s center. Here, the whole cave had ¡®dried¡¯ considerably, which was to say the rapid currents that whipped about the place now contained much more air than water. According to Lars the local, this too was more or less in line with the ¡®outside¡¯, given that much of the lower parts of Rotgard were a barren wasteland full of dried-up rivers. The Wayfarers trod lightly across the flatrock, periodically peering down from the edge to scout for the next landing spots. But everywhere they looked, the drops seemed too precipitous to be worth the risk¡ªeven for a sturgeon who could ¡®read¡¯ the shape of the land. And it was thus, as Serac and Lars inched their way further and further ¡®inland¡¯, that the latter suddenly grabbed the former by the shoulder to warn her of a potential new threat. ¡°Quiet,¡± Lars spoke softly. ¡°A figure approaches.¡± Serac squinted into the distance ahead, seeing nothing. ¡°Is it Zacko? Or your brother maybe?¡± ¡°Not Hans. Could be the Manusya. But¡­ something strange. Something more. We should¡ªwait, Rakshasa! What are you¡ª?¡± Serac couldn¡¯t contain herself. She broke into a light, slouching jog as she felt her way into the darkness. If it¡¯s really Zacko, then I need to catch him before he goes off again. And if it¡¯s not, well, what¡¯s the worst that could happen? Eventually, a shadowy silhouette distinguished itself from the surrounding darkness¡ªa humanoid one, which was promising, but not quite the confirmation Serac was after. Luckily for her, she had more than her naked eyes to rely upon for identification. [Designation: ZACARIAS BORGES-JUVENTUS] [Wayfarer Race: MANUSYA] [Karmic Level: 32] [Liminal Karma: 17,350 ?] ¡°Oi, Zacko!¡± Serac shouted happily as she sped up her jog into a run. As she got nearer, she saw that the man sported a nearly full HP bar, which was more good news. Our crafty little Manusya found a way to rid himself of the [Poison], after all! ¡°Serac? It¡¯s really you, isn¡¯t it?¡± Zacko¡¯s full figure emerged then, looking as hale as could be expected in the dim, green lighting. He wore his trademark sardonic smile as he quipped, ¡°And here I thought I¡¯d have to go all the way back to town to find you again!¡± ¡°Come on, you should have more faith in me than that!¡± Serac¡¯s smile widened as she punched her newly reunited partner in the arm. Somehow, she found herself heartened by the solid contact. ¡°And here I thought I¡¯d have to nurse you back to health. How¡¯d you cure yourself of [Poison], anyway? Did Hans Tomasen help you? Speaking of, is the big guy here with you?¡± ¡°No, not Hans. Wait, he¡¯s not with you either?¡± ¡°Nope. Just Lars, who should be coming up behind me any second now.¡± ¡°Huh. I wonder what¡¯s happened to the other twin.¡± ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me how you dealt with the [Poison].¡± ¡°Yeah, about that,¡± Zacko stalled, suddenly looking sheepish¡ªa strange enough reaction to make Serac¡¯s ¡®sixth sense¡¯ tingle. The Manusya continued, ¡°I did have someone help me. But probably not who you might expect. Heck, even I can¡¯t believe¡ª¡± That was when a trunk-like sturgeon arm reached out from behind Serac and pushed Zacko in the chest. Or tried to, anyway, if it hadn¡¯t been for the Manusya taking a deft backstep out of harm¡¯s way. ¡°What the¡ª¡± Serac had only a Ksana to express her bewilderment before she found herself in Lars¡¯s arms again, this time being pulled back in a protective gesture. It was as if the Yaksha wanted to keep her away from Zacko. And she couldn¡¯t for the life of her understand why¡­ ¡­ Until her eyes readjusted and latched onto a second figure that emerged from the shadows¡ªa hooded figure, slight of build, with a comically large shovel slung over her finless back. [Designation: ???] [Wayfarer Race: YAKSHA] [Karmic Level: 63] [Liminal Karma: 20,240 ?] [ZEALOUS Instrument: OYSTER] [Auxiliary: DREDGER] 86. The Finless 86. The Finless [Designation: OYSTER] [Instrument Class: ZEALOUS] [Anchored Realm: PRETJORD (+1)] [Item Description: Once upon a time, there was a girl who fancied herself the best hide-and-seek player in all the land. She ran and hid from anyone who¡¯d come near: soldiers, ministers, ladies-in-waiting, and even the king and queen. She was so good at hiding that, in time, everyone else simply stopped looking for her. Then her game of hide-and-seek became hide-and-never-come-out. That was, until one patient and loving soul¡ªthe girl¡¯s one and only friend¡ªfound the girl in her perfect hiding place. They held out a patient hand and coaxed in a loving voice, ¡°Open up your shell, child, and look out with your own two eyes, unclouded by judgment. And you¡¯ll surely see the truth of it¡ªthat the world really is your oyster.¡±] *** The Finless¡¯s bulky silhouette slimmed down considerably as she unslung her shovel¡ªDREDGER, assuming this was that pesky Auxiliary everyone had warned about. She then proceeded to step closer, allowing Serac her first good look at Lady Pink. A petite tree-frog-typed body, made shorter (perhaps even shorter than Serac!) by a noticeable slouch. Presently, most of the Finless¡¯s body was covered by a form-fitting hooded suit, except for her bare, webbed feet, as well as a squat face featuring a pair of round, wide-set eyes. But Lady Pink¡¯s most striking feature, at least to Serac¡¯s sensibilities, was her skin. Such pure pinkness that it shone through even in the dim, green lighting. It was also remarkably smooth, and coated with an almost translucent sheen. Seeing this, Serac vaguely wondered if ¡®the Scaleless¡¯ might be another appropriate epithet to go along with Finless. She really is like Froggy¡­ if Froggy could stand on two feet and hold out a giant shovel menacingly! Indeed, if it weren¡¯t for the weapon in the woman¡¯s hand and her clear intention to use it if need be, Serac wouldn¡¯t have found the Finless scary at all. The Yaksha woman certainly didn¡¯t have the look of a hardened criminal, nor was she accompanied by an army of Wildspawns as had been described by Palmr Jorgensen. Surely, this was all a big misunderstanding, one that could be cleared up by a little¡ª Except that was when the Finless sprang forward on her frog legs, winding up her shovel for a big swing as she did. Serac found herself dumped to the floor again, as Lars let go of her to reach for his STROKE-SIDE OAR. Then the two Yakshas clashed in the middle of the flatrock, with their respective Auxiliaries producing an ear-splitting ¡®clang!¡¯ as they met. The ensuing shockwave sent Serac tumbling, nearly clean off the edge of the flatrock. She looked up just in time to see that Lars and Lady Pink too had been pushed apart by the combined force of their own attacks. And they clearly hadn¡¯t had enough, as they immediately dashed towards each other for round two. Thud! This time, the impact produced a distinctly ¡®meaty¡¯ sound, as though it¡¯d contained something other than metal-on-metal violence. And as the action slowed in the aftermath, Serac saw that had indeed been the case. A third figure¡ªZacko¡ªhad jumped into the fray and wedged himself in the middle of the two combatants. The NINEFOLD master had both of his arms up by his sides in a rare display of [Double Shield]. His brow was furrowed and lips drawn in a thin line, which Serac knew to mean it¡¯d required every ounce of Zacko¡¯s concentration to absorb the Yakshas¡¯ attacks without getting one-shot for his trouble. ¡°Let¡¯s all cool our jets and talk about this like adults, hm?¡± he said through gritted teeth, even as a shovel and an OAR ground against him from two sides. ¡°I think we all have a bit of explaining to do. Especially if we want to get out of this cave situation alive.¡± ¡°What is there to explain?¡± Lars snarled, with an unusual roughness in his voice that betrayed both his anger and anxiety. ¡°Finless pulled us into the cave. Just as she commands the Wildspawns that haunt the Roots of the Realmtree.¡± ¡°You seriously believe that rubbish?¡± the Finless spoke up then. ¡°You Stammers really are hopeless, aren¡¯t you? Making up imaginary enemies until you¡¯ve become frightened of your own shadows.¡± Despite the tensity of the situation, Serac couldn¡¯t help but take a moment to process her own feelings about hearing the Finless¡¯s voice for the first time. It was unexpectedly deep and raspy, in a manner that ill-fitted the tree-frog woman¡¯s petite, smooth, and, well, pink features. But then Serac suddenly ¡®remembered¡¯ what a frog sounded like¡­ and on that basis, perhaps the Finless¡¯s voice was exactly what one would expect! ¡°Do you take me for a fool, Finless?¡± Lars went on, oblivious to the vitally important debate that raged inside Serac¡¯s mind. ¡°How many more must suffer¡­ how much more of the Realmtree would you see wither at the whims of your madness? If it were not for you, my brother and I would still¡ª¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it, your brother!¡± Zacko interjected then, even as his face grew purple, not with Erudite energy, but with the sheer effort of acting as a human buffer. ¡°Bubblegum here was just helping me look for¡ªuh, which is it?¡ªHans Tomasen, even before you showed up. So why don¡¯t you back off and let her speak for herself, hey?¡± Lars did back off then, though likely due to astonishment rather than agreement. Serac then took the chance to jump in and place herself between Zacko and Lars¡ªfinding the latter to be surprisingly limp, and therefore easy to push away. ¡°You were with Hans?¡± Lars directed his question to Zacko, sounding much more subdued than just a second ago. ¡°What happened to him?¡± ¡°We saw him a ways above where we¡¯re standing now, trying to fight off a gang of Slangespytts by himself,¡± Zacko explained as he massaged his forearms. ¡°And you don¡¯t need me to tell you it wasn¡¯t going well for him. Before Bubblegum and I could get to him, he took a tumble off one of the ledges, and well, that¡¯s the last we saw of him.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Was it a lethal fall?¡± Serac butted in. Her question sounded rather grim (and especially insensitive, what with the man¡¯s brother standing right there), but given the company she kept, it was one of a merely pragmatic nature. ¡°No,¡± Zacko replied quickly, ¡°or at least Bubblegum here doesn¡¯t seem to think so. Ripple-reading and whatnot. Apparently, she can do that too, even though she¡¯s a frog¡±¡ªwow, Zacko, you really have no filter, do you?¡ª¡°But the strange thing is, Hans kept going lower and lower into the cave, faster than we could keep up. Almost like¡­ he¡¯s got urgent business waiting for him at the bottom of this thing. Anyway, when you guys showed up, I thought he might be with you, but¡­¡± Zacko trailed off as he eyed the ¡®other twin¡¯ meaningfully. Lars, who¡¯d listened to the Manusya¡¯s spiel with slumped shoulders and a blank expression, suddenly tensed again, tightening his grip on his OAR. ¡°It is all your doing, is it not?¡± This time, the question¡ªnay, accusation¡ªwas directed at the Finless. ¡°The rivers drying up. The Wildspawns swarming from and within the Roots. Something lurking down below, hell-bent on upsetting the Realmtree¡¯s natural balance. My brother is drawn to it for the same reason as I¡ªto put an end to your witchcraft, once and for all. Well? The Manusya says that you wish to speak, so speak. What do you have to say for yourself?¡± For a moment, three pairs of eyes trained in unison upon a hooded pink figure. Lady Pink herself, however, kept her gaze fixed upon the sturgeon who was at least twice her size. And her grip on her DREDGER hadn¡¯t loosened one bit. ¡°I have nothing to say to the likes of you,¡± she croaked. ¡°Those who¡¯re blind to the ripples are also deaf to reason. I¡¯ll not waste my breath.¡± Serac didn¡¯t know anything about Pretjordian politics or the apparent beef between this particular pair of Yakshas. But even she knew this was the wrong thing to say in this moment. Both she and Zacko moved at the same time, with her putting up PULVERIZER to block Lars, and he to [Shield] against Lady Pink. [37!] This sucks! Serac thought, even as she gritted her teeth against Lars¡¯s enormous strength. I have to take a hit to my HP just to break up a fight? ¡°Alright, enough already!¡± An exasperated shout from Zacko. ¡°Just calm down and use your head, sturgeon man! If Bubblegum really did lure us into her witch¡¯s lair with witch-ly intentions like you seem to believe, you think she would¡¯ve helped cure my [Poison]? Or tag-teamed a bunch of Aberrants while she helped me look for your brother?¡± At another mention of his brother, Lars¡¯s aggression waned once more. Serac felt the pressure lift from her PULVERIZER. ¡°If she wanted to kill me,¡± Zacko continued, ¡°she¡¯s had plenty of opportunities to do that, but she hasn¡¯t, and she won¡¯t. In fact, she¡¯s just as fucked up by this whole situation as we are, and she¡¯s also just trying to find a way out. Now, are you going to be mature and sensible about this, or would you rather turn a powerful ally into a formidable enemy?¡± Wow, Zacko, when did you learn to be so diplomatic? And I wonder how Lady Pink managed to cure your Manusya ass of [Poison]. Maybe with those ¡®potions¡¯ I keep hearing about? Serac was bursting with questions, but she could read the room (if not the ripples) well enough to know when to bite her tongue. Her restraints soon paid off, as Lars relaxed some more¡ªhopefully for good. A deep frown darkened the sturgeon man¡¯s usually impassive features. It was clear that his anger and suspicions hadn¡¯t receded, and perhaps they never would. But he¡¯d also calmed down enough to see the merit in Zacko¡¯s words. After all, wasn¡¯t he himself a strong believer in maintaining a cool head in the face of adversity? ¡°We work together until we reach bottom,¡± Lars eventually said, lowering his OAR as he did. His taciturn manners had also returned, which Serac took to mean he¡¯d regained control over his emotions. ¡°Until we find Hans, and until we deal with the presence that gnaws at the Realmtree¡¯s Roots. After that, Finless, you come with us to Stamgard¡­ to answer for your crimes.¡± Serac turned to gauge Lady Pink¡¯s reaction, praying that she¡¯d take the olive branch without further incident. Which was why she physically winced as she heard the woman¡¯s next words. ¡°I¡¯ll never go with you willingly. You¡¯ll have to capture me if that¡¯s what you¡¯re after.¡± But even as the Finless said this, she lifted her giant shovel and secured it onto her back. ¡°But you¡¯re also welcome to try¡ªafter all this is over.¡± Several more seconds passed in tense silence. Then Lars let out a noncommittal ¡®hm¡¯, before turning around and making his way over to the edge of the flatrock. He¡¯d evidently gone right back to mapping out the next part of the descent, with the implicit understanding that the spelunking party had just doubled in size. Serac finally let out a sigh of relief. She herself went right back to ogling the frog woman, purely because she was just so fascinated by her. Lady Pink, for her part, now reached into her suit to fiddle with something around her chest. As Serac watched, she caught glimpses of a strange contraption, one seemingly made up of a series of lidded containers each about the size of an orange. Some of these containers swung open at Lady Pink¡¯s touch, revealing yet more strange objects that gave off a distinct gleam within the dim greenness of the cave. ¡°What do you want, Rakshasa?¡± Lady Pink suddenly spoke without looking up. It took Serac a Ksana or two to realize the question was directed at her. Oh no, I¡¯ve been too obvious with my staring. Maybe I should learn a thing or two from Zacko¡¯s diplomacy! ¡°Nothing, I¡¯m just curious, that¡¯s all!¡± she said sheepishly. ¡°If anything, you¡¯ve already done more than enough, getting my friend Zacko down here in one piece. I wanted to thank you¡­ you¡­ er, actually, what should I call you?¡± The Yaksha said nothing, nor did she look up from her task. She was far more interested in her ¡®containers¡¯ than acknowledging Serac¡¯s musings. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t feel right.¡± Serac persisted, as was her way when it came to getting to know the locals along her journey. ¡°Just in the last minute or so, you¡¯ve been called three different names. Finless, Lady Pink, Bubblegum¡ªwhatever the heck that is¡ªand Pathsight isn¡¯t any help either. I just think, if we¡¯re gonna work together, we should at least know each other¡¯s names, you know? Feels like common courtesy¡ªand I mean that both ways.¡± The nameless woman said nothing. Serac waited patiently for a while, and was just about to give up and turn around when¡ª ¡°Renate.¡± Serac stared. The woman still did not meet her eyes. ¡°Renate? Just Renate?¡± Serac then lowered her voice, muttering to herself as she cooked up her latest masterpiece. ¡°Pretty name. I like it. Three syllables, which isn¡¯t too bad, I suppose, but at this point, I¡¯m committed to my art form. Let¡¯s see¡­ Renate, Renate, Renna!¡± The woman froze. Then she finally did look up, slowly and with eyes noticeably rounder. ¡°What did you just say?¡± ¡°Well, ¡®Renate¡¯ is one too many syllables for a proper nickname between spelunking buddies,¡± Serac explained happily. ¡°So I¡¯m calling you Renna instead. You¡¯re going to respond to it, and I hope¡ªin time¡ªyou¡¯ll learn to like it too.¡± 87. Politics and Feelings 87. Politics and Feelings [Designation: DREDGER] [Instrument Class: AUXILIARY] [Anchored Realm: PRETJORD (+1)] [Item Description: ¡°Roots, our home, our Path to seek the stars, Tomorrow, the dreams to replenish our cup, Mud, the scales we wear atop our scars, Yesterday, the ripples that bear dredging up.¡± - Excerpt from an untitled chant, attributed to Rotgardian laborers who worked on the Waterways Redistribution Project] *** The Wayfaring quartet made slow, cautious progress through the final stretch of their spelunking journey. Lars Tomasen led the way by unspoken consent. It was a fortunate arrangement, at least for Serac, given Lars¡¯s towering frame and the ample protection it provided against the elements. For the winds had only gotten stronger lower into the Roots, threatening to throw a Rakshasa off her footholds if she weren¡¯t careful. The combination of strong winds and dungeon-diving brought Serac back to the prison break that had started it all¡ªa simpler time when she couldn¡¯t tell ¡®Infernal¡¯ from ¡®Zealous¡¯ and had been limited to exactly one spell in her gunslinging arsenal. And although she was now surrounded by powerful companions¡ªand had no doubt become much stronger herself¡ªshe couldn¡¯t help but miss the simplicity of having no cumbersome politics nor complicated¡­ feelings to worry about¡ªback when all she cared about was the climb towards her own freedom. For that reason and more, she was glad for the local Wayfarers to take charge, especially when it came to navigation. Lars, despite being in an unfamiliar environment himself, had the natural advantage of ripple-reading. He made full use of it now, taking frequent pauses upon his ledges to map out safe routes for the quartet to follow. One such pause proved longer than most, as he once again pointed to a large group of Slangespytts lying in ambush upon a rocky outcrop. Serac took to the news eagerly, immediately reaching for REVOLVER. Surely, this was the perfect opportunity for the locals to take a backseat in favor of REVOLVER and its Infernal ways¡ªuntil Serac remembered that she didn¡¯t have enough MP left to cast any of her spells! Welp, so much for my growing arsenal. I guess it¡¯s time for Zacko to step up, but then he¡¯s going to put himself at risk of more [Poison]. What could we¡ª But before Serac could finish her thought, one of the locals dove right in. Renna (aka the Finless aka Bubblegum aka Lady Pink), who up to now had been bringing up the rear, jumped off from the highest ledge, showing nary a concern about the potential lethality of her fall. Except she didn¡¯t quite fall¡ªand it hadn¡¯t quite been a jump, either. Instead, she ran down the cave wall¡ªnearly perpendicular to it¡ªwith her webbed feet producing an oddly soothing squelching sound with every step. Renna ran past a stunned Serac and a glaring Lars with the apparent urgency of a morning stroll. As she neared the Slangespytts enough to alert them to her presence, she unslung the giant shovel from her back and dragged its blade alongside her feet, leaving a trail of falling rocks and tree bark in her wake. Finally, she swung the whole thing upwards (in relation to the cave wall) in a deft display of: [Auxiliary Technique: ELEMENTAL SURGE] The falling debris now rose along with DREDGER¡¯s arc. Rocks the size of Renna¡¯s own head scattered and flew at speed before landing atop the whole mob of Slangespytts. Some missed, but many didn¡¯t, and each hit produced a satisfying thud before turning the victimized Poison Balls into Souldust. As Serac watched in amazement, she understood that this was the same technique with which Lady Pink had ¡®dredged up¡¯ a pair of drowning outrealmers and thrown them ashore. On that occasion, water had been the element subject to its ¡®surge¡¯. This time it was¡­ rocks and tree bark? At any rate, this was evidence that DREDGER could activate its own brand of magic, one that took from its environment and converted it into a damage type that was neither Physical nor Zealous. By now, a quick-learning Serac could appreciate how rare that was even among Wayfarers¡ªand she could also see why the Finless¡¯s Auxiliary might be feared above her main Instrument. But as effective as Renna¡¯s opener had been, the fight wasn¡¯t yet over. From where Serac perched, she counted at least two Slangespytts who¡¯d avoided the worst of the spray. She gripped REVOLVER again, with her mind racing for a way to contribute with no MP to spend. The effort was for naught, however, as another figure behind her jumped off his ledge¡ªZacko, masked up and imbued with a purple aura. A powered up [Cudgel] onto the first Poison Ball to break his own fall, followed by a [Blade] to finish it off, then a spearing [Lance] to dispatch the second. As Zacko cleaned up Renna¡¯s leftovers, the shovel-wielder herself kicked off from the wall to gracefully land next to him. And just like that, another whole platform was cleared of its Wildspawn presence¡ªthis time by a Yaksha-Manusya tag team. It took Serac a moment longer to pick up her jaw from the next ledge over. She was no doubt impressed by the teamwork and sheer skill on display, but then¡ªto her own surprise¡ªshe also felt something that resembled annoyance. And if she¡¯d dug around some more, she might¡¯ve even found a different word that better described exactly what she was feeling. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. But she never got the chance to do so. For in the next instant, Lars Tomasen grabbed her bodily by the waist before he too jumped off, dropping onto the platform below with Serac securely in tow. The fall, as it turned out, was neither lethal nor completely harmless. A good chunk of Lars¡¯s health bar disappeared upon impact, which Serac estimated to be about 50%. She herself had gotten off without a scratch, though at her current HP, she could¡¯ve tanked the fall damage if she needed to. As such, Lars¡¯s assist was one she¡¯d neither needed nor asked for. Still nursing her weirdly petulant mood, Serac ¡®forgot¡¯ to give thanks as she disembarked from Lars¡¯s arm. Her gaze drifted toward Zacko, presently joking with Renna while the latter utterly ignored him¡ªa post-smite debrief if Serac had ever seen one, albeit a rather one-sided one at that. The sight of it only ¡®annoyed¡¯ her some more, until she noticed Zacko¡¯s HP bar ticking down at an alarming rate. With an audible gasp, she recalled the earlier sequence that ended the fight: [Cudgel] into [Blade] into [Lance]. Three contacts, and therefore three stacks of [Poison]. ¡°Zacko!¡± she yelled out, her less-than-charitable mood dissipated in an instant. ¡°You got yourself [Poisoned] again, and it¡¯s eating you up fast!¡± ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t worry about it,¡± Zacko said with a wink, before turning his lopsided smile onto Renna. ¡°Bubblegum here will fix me up in no time with one of her Pearls. Won¡¯t you, Bubblegum?¡± ¡°No,¡± came the reply, reluctant but matter-of-fact. ¡°I came equipped with only one [Pearl of Immersion], and you already used it.¡± At this, Zacko became stock-still, in both posture and facial expression. Serac knew this to be his way of keeping calmer than he felt. ¡°Well shit,¡± the Manusya kept his voice low and spoke with performative nonchalance, fooling neither Serac¡¯s eyes nor her ears. ¡°That ain¡¯t good. Serac, you wouldn¡¯t happen to be a potion master yourself, would you?¡± ¡°No!¡± Serac exclaimed, considerably more expressive than her [Poisoned] friend. She then frantically patted herself from chest to waist and around her belt, as if she could somehow conjure up a potion of her own. ¡°What do we do? Can¡¯t you¡­ I dunno, give yourself [Synthesis]? It¡¯s a [Boon], right? Maybe if you ask nicely, Pathsight will¡ª¡± ¡°Quiet, both of you! I can¡¯t concentrate with your senseless yapping.¡± The sharp rebuke came from Renna. While the outrealmers panicked and postured uselessly, the local frog woman had already sat down on the platform. She¡¯d laid DREDGER flat beside her while she herself crossed her legs and closed her eyes. She¡¯s meditating, Serac recognized immediately. Which means she¡¯s about to install a Waystation for our benefit. Wait a second¡­ that¡¯s it! I still have a charge left over from Naraka; I could¡¯ve set one down to cure Zacko¡¯s [Poison]. Why didn¡¯t I think of it sooner? With that, a far more disturbing thought occurred to her. She could put her own mental lapse down to her moment of panic, but¡­ there was someone here who could¡¯ve and should¡¯ve reminded her. Trippy had remained silent throughout the ordeal, and Serac had an inkling as to why. It¡¯s because he straight up just doesn¡¯t like Zacko. Doesn¡¯t like his personality, and doesn¡¯t like what he ¡®represents¡¯. That¡¯s why he¡¯d happily let him succumb to [Poison], and bonus points if the death could send him far, far away from me! Cumbersome politics and complicated feelings, indeed. Yes, the times really did use to be much simpler¡ªback when the voice in her head would support rather than actively undermine her. An unpleasant bit of self-reflection notwithstanding, Serac remembered to be grateful to Lady Pink for volunteering her Waystation [Privilege]. And once again, she failed to square this generous gesture with the Finless that everyone so feared and despised. I don¡¯t care what anyone says; Renna isn¡¯t a ¡®bad¡¯ soul. I know it in my heart, and judging from the way he¡¯s chumming it up with her, Zacko knows it too. This last part came out a little pettier and more mean-spirited than Serac knew herself capable of. She shook her head to dispel the unsavory thought, then watched as a pure-white lotus flower bloomed upon windswept rocks. Renna stood as soon as the Waystation was up, too soon to have reconstituted herself. ¡°Right,¡± she said, scanning the rest of the group with her round, amphibian eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s do this in pairs. You two¡±¡ªshe nodded twice to indicate Zacko and Lars¡ª¡°obviously need it more urgently. Quickly now; we still need to get a move on.¡± Zacko didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Neither did Lars, to be fair, but he did hesitate for a second, with his silent glare flicking momentarily to seek Serac¡¯s gaze. Nothing was said aloud, but the implication was clear: keep an eye on her. Serac was both surprised and a little touched that Lars would entrust her with this task¡ªeven though she personally didn¡¯t see the need for it. In any case, as the two boys with their self-inflicted wounds settled in to meditate, she was left alone with Renna. The frog woman remained standing, and now adopted a kind of faraway look as she stared straight ahead into the cave¡¯s windy center. It was abundantly clear that she had zero interest in reciprocating Serac¡¯s attention on her. The detachment was so immediate and so total that it compelled Serac to bite back on her question¡ªwhich, she reflected, wasn¡¯t like her at all. Politics and feelings. Gah, I hate this! Screw it, I¡¯m diving in. Never one to let feelings fester if she could help it, Serac decided to open herself up¡ªeven if her counterpart should remain closed to her. And what better way to convey her friendly spirit than to call back a nickname between friends? ¡°Renna, is this a good time? There are, like, so many things I¡¯ve been dying to ask you.¡± Rigid silence. Not even so much as a flicker of the eyes. Serac stifled a sigh, having already anticipated the need for multiple attempts. ¡°Renna? I¡¯m not interrupting anything, am I? It¡¯s just that you¡¯re literally the first soul I ran into after my first ever ascension. Not that I¡¯m superstitious or anything, but I still feel like that counts for something. Just wanna get to know you a bit better, that¡¯s all.¡± Still nothing. Tough nut to crack, but Serac wasn¡¯t yet ready to give up. At least one more try¡­ ¡°Renna, I¡ª¡± ¡°Stop calling me that.¡± It took Serac¡ªmouth still agape mid-speech¡ªa Ksana or two to understand what the frog woman meant. ¡°Stop calling you¡­ Renna? You hate it that much, huh. Um¡­ may I ask why?¡± Serac¡¯s artistic pride smarted from having her latest work so soundly rejected. It was only natural for her to seek some feedback¡ªways to improve and to avoid future disasters. After a moment¡¯s consideration, Renate obliged, reluctant but matter-of-fact. ¡°There¡¯s only one person in the world who gets to call me Renna. And you¡¯re not her.¡± 88. Inquiring Minds 88. Inquiring Minds After that amicable exchange, Renate remained mum on both the ill-chosen nickname and the ¡®one person¡¯ who was allowed to use it. Yet, somehow, annoying the frog woman into speech proved to be the perfect icebreaker. At the very least, it¡¯d made her slightly more receptive to Serac¡¯s other questions, so long as the latter took care to stay off the taboo topics. Renate was willing to play ball a little, and it fell on Serac to get the game going. ¡°So¡­ Zacko says you were just minding your own business when you got sucked into this cave situation. Any theories on what¡¯s actually going on?¡± ¡°No. Why theorize when we¡¯re about to see for ourselves?¡± ¡°Right. Sure. I suppose that makes sense. You think, uh, what¡¯s happening in here is related to all the outside funniness? Lars said all the rivers in Rotgard are drying up, and I wonder if this cave has something to do with it.¡± ¡°Given what we¡¯ve seen so far, it¡¯d be foolish to assume otherwise.¡± ¡°¡­ Right. Sure. And¡­ just to be clear, you¡¯re not the one behind it all, are you? It¡¯s just, everyone I¡¯ve talked to so far seems to think the Wildspawns here are following the orders of a ¡®queen¡¯¡ªthat queen being you.¡± At this, Renate turned her head slightly to give Serac the amphibian version of a withering look. ¡°If I actually had the power to control Wildspawns like the Stammers so claim, they¡¯d have much more to fear from me than the occasional stolen item, I can promise you that.¡± Serac had to take a moment to recover. Her ¡®the Finless is a good, misunderstood soul¡¯ theory had just taken a brutal hit, and she needed to steer the conversation in a slightly more positive direction. ¡°Hey, uh, nice one earlier with the, what¡¯s it called, [Elemental Surge]? I was sweating bullets for a second there because I thought we didn¡¯t have the right damage type to deal with the Poison Balls. How does your Auxiliary work exactly¡ªif you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡± The Auxiliary in question still lay flat on the ground where its wielder had left it. Renate herself didn¡¯t answer immediately, instead turning her eyes back onto the center of the cave, where myriad whistling streams clashed and fought each other for wind supremacy. ¡°What do you know about the ripples?¡± the woman eventually asked without shifting her gaze. ¡°Er, not much,¡± Serac admitted. ¡°Petey tried to explain it to us, but if I¡¯m being honest, he didn¡¯t do a great job of it. The rest I¡¯ve picked up just from watching the Sturgeon Boys¡­ and I guess a little bit from you. If I were to take a stab at it, I¡¯d say it¡¯s like sensing some sort of hidden signal that living things give off?¡± ¡°Sensing is one part of it,¡± Renate agreed, matter-of-fact and surprisingly helpful. ¡°All living things¡ªpeople, animals, plants, Aberrants, and yes, even the Realmtree itself¡ªare made up of infinitesimal building blocks that constantly vibrate. Each of these blocks is too small to be felt on its own, but in aggregate, they give off larger waves¡ªripples, as they¡¯re called¡ªthat travel through environmental mediums¡ªair and water, chiefly, but solid objects are no exception.¡± Hearing this, Serac subconsciously looked down at her own body and turned over her cinnabar hands once or twice, wondering if she might be able to see these tiny, vibrating blocks. Needless to say, the answer was no. ¡°From an early age, Yakshas learn to read the distinct shapes, speeds, and directions of these ripples, as well as their attenuation profiles through various mediums. Ripple-reading becomes more or less second nature to all of us, and for most Yakshas, that¡¯s where it stops. They don¡¯t then go on and try to interact with these ripples as much as interpret them.¡± ¡°Interact? You mean like change the ripples¡¯ shapes, speeds, directions, and whatnot?¡± ¡°Precisely.¡± Renate nodded as she graced Serac with more eye contact. ¡°Living things leave their marks on inorganic materials in the form of ripples. What I do with DREDGER then is to retrieve, reactivate, and reshape those ripples for my own use¡ªwhether that use be stoning a group of Slangespytts or¡­ lending a hand to a couple of outrealmers who were way out of their depths.¡± ¡°Super neat!¡± Serac proclaimed, beaming from ear to ear. ¡°Oh, and thanks for that ¡®hand¡¯, by the way. Guess Zacko and I really owe you a lot more than one for everything you¡¯ve done for us. I¡¯m still curious, though. Those Poison Balls are immune to Physical and Zealous damage, right? So that means the damage output of your [Elemental Surge] is¡­ what?¡± At this, a curious look crossed Renate¡¯s face¡ªneither aloof nor particularly welcoming. Rather, it was one of serious contemplation, as if she herself was deeply interested in the answer. ¡°It¡¯s something I¡¯ve puzzled over for years myself,¡± she said, matter-of-fact and clearly eager to delve into the topic. ¡°As you might imagine, there¡¯s no set ¡®base Attack Value¡¯ for something like [Elemental Surge], which makes numerical observations difficult. But based on data I collected from various leveling strategies, my best guess is Primal damage. I suppose it makes sense in a way¡­ assuming of course that the word ¡®Primal¡¯ does refer to the base nature of things.¡± Serac gasped, as her face lit up even more brightly. ¡°You¡¯re one of the rare ones! Like Bea said! But¡­ including me and Zacko, that¡¯s like three out of five Wayfarers I¡¯ve met. I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯d call that exactly rare!¡± The outburst was met by a blank stare, though one in which the frog woman appeared to make a genuine effort to understand. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve met this ¡®Bea¡¯ you speak of, but¡­ if you refer to the commonly held belief that a Wayfarer and her main Instrument is limited to one aura type, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m necessarily an exception to that rule. Remember, DREDGER is my Auxiliary, so whatever magic imbues [Elemental Surge] likely derives from a different set of logic. Perhaps the ¡®history¡¯ that¡¯s inherent to DREDGER itself, or¡ªif you¡¯d allow me some fanciful hypothesizing¡ªto the accident of its wielder¡¯s bir¡ª¡± Serac had been nodding along, rapt with attention. As such, Renate¡¯s sudden break-off gave her something of a conversational whiplash. ¡°Bir¡­ what?¡± she demanded. ¡°What were you gonna say?¡± ¡°Nothing. Forget I said anything.¡± ¡°What? You can¡¯t leave me hanging like that!¡± ¡°I said forget it,¡± Renate snapped, narrowing her round eyes. Now, the tonal whiplash was enough to shut Serac up. ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck, Rakshasa. I¡¯ve no cause to volunteer any of this information. You¡¯ve¡­ simply caught me in a generous mood, that¡¯s all.¡± What started as a baleful warning ended in a somewhat sheepish mumble. Serac found this rather endearing, so much so that she was willing to overlook her scholarly blue balls. ¡°Have it your way, Ren¡ªate,¡± Serac said good-naturedly, managing to catch herself just in time. As proud as she was of her own art, she wasn¡¯t so stuck up as to ignore a direct plea for clemency. ¡°It¡¯s really nice chatting to you, either way. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve met anyone who¡¯s so¡ªwhat¡¯s the word¡ªintellectual? Which is funny, considering Zacko¡¯s supposed to be the one from Manesfera; I mean, he¡¯s even got ¡®Erudite¡¯ in the name of his magic! Compared to him, you sound a lot more educated. Are you, though? Educated, I mean?¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Does that mouth of yours know when to stop?¡± Renate asked by way of answer, though with a slight smirk to show it was all in good fun. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve met anyone who¡¯s so¡ªwhat¡¯s the word¡ªgushy.¡± ¡°What can I say? I¡¯m like the Sanzu River when the very heavens crack open over a hellish wasteland.¡± For a moment, Renate looked at Serac like her very head had cracked open to gush out a River of Blood. Then, much to both women¡¯s surprise, she burst out in croaking laughter. Serac soon joined in, though hers was noticeably more subdued, due to her still mulling the merits of her earlier analogy. I think it makes sense. At least it does to me. I was pent up in the lowest pits of hell for so long with no one to talk to, so I think I can be forgiven for being a little gushy around good company. Little did she know then¡­ that her counterpart was thinking almost the exact same thing. ¡°Speaking of the Sanzu River¡­¡± Renate managed in between her giggles, before eventually reining in the laughter altogether. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you something. About the circumstances of your arrival in Pretjord. The Manusya has already filled me in a bit, but there¡¯s no reason not to consult a second data point.¡± ¡°Oh yeah? Shoot, what do you wanna know?¡± ¡°What was the very first thing you remember?¡± ¡°Water,¡± Serac replied immediately. The memory of it was still painfully fresh, and she wasn¡¯t likely to soon forget. ¡°Water above, below, and sideways. Water inside me. Water as far as I could see or feel. Heavy, cold, everywhere. Zacko assumed that we¡¯d end up in the very bottom of the Realm, but we never expected the place to be filled with water.¡± ¡°The Netherpool,¡± Renate said with a nod. ¡°Though in recent years, the pool level has gone down so much that it¡¯s become all but inaccessible to us Pretjordians. I think¡­ if it weren¡¯t for that outside intervention that pulled you and the Manusya away, the two of you would¡¯ve been stranded in the Netherpool with no way to climb ashore. But go on, tell me more about this ¡®pulling force¡¯ you experienced.¡± Serac obliged the Pretjordian, but not before shuddering at the thought of being stranded in all that oppressive water. ¡°It just sort of happened, you know. No warning, no presence that either of us felt. One second we¡¯re kicking and flailing in the middle of this body of still water. The next, it¡¯s like we got caught in this powerful current, one that sucked us out of the Netherpool and spat us into the Sanzu, all the way up in Stamgard, apparently.¡± ¡°Powerful current¡­ The sensation of being sucked through¡­ Would you say it felt at all similar to what happened when you dropped into this cave?¡± Serac let out a small gasp of recognition. It seemed so obvious now. ¡°Now you mention it, yeah. You think whatever¡¯s down there and whatever pulled us up¡ª¡± ¡°Is the same entity, yes, I do think that. But¡­ there¡¯s another piece to the puzzle, and that¡¯s you.¡± ¡°¡­ You as in us, or you as in me?¡± ¡°Well, I suppose I can¡¯t discount the Manusya¡¯s role out of hand, but¡­¡± Renate¡¯s amphibian eyes now gave off a Pathsighted gleam as she looked Serac up and down¡­ then her gaze lingered upon the six-shooter at the Rakshasa¡¯s waist. ¡°The rivers in Rotgard have been drying for years, but today, as far as I can tell, is the first time they¡¯ve pulled unsuspecting Wayfarers into the hollow insides of the Realmtree. Today also happens to be the first time in at least several centuries that a Narakite has ascended to Pretjord. And I¡¯m of the belief that coincidence is something that only exists after you¡¯ve exhausted every other explanation.¡± ¡°Serac? Bubblegum? It¡¯s your turn.¡± It took Serac a moment longer to tear her gaze away from the tree-frog woman and her gleaming, round eyes. She saw then that both Zacko and Lars had stood aside, giving the two girls full access to the lotus flower. ¡°We can continue this another time,¡± Renate said, picking up DREDGER and laying it across her lap as she sat down to meditate, ¡°perhaps after we¡¯ve dealt with whatever¡¯s waiting for us below. It may be only academic at that point, but¡­ you know what they say about inquiring minds.¡± No, in fact, Serac didn¡¯t know¡ªbut she could guess readily enough. In any case, the woman had already settled into her session, leaving Serac scrambling to follow suit. It¡¯d been quite some time since she¡¯d had enough Liminal Karma to level, and she took to the task with gusto. According to Pathsight, she could up her attributes by three points. By now, she felt comfortable enough with her ¡®survivability¡¯ to start thinking wants over needs. Let¡¯s see¡­ Bea did mention that I should now be able to see how my attributes affect the different damage types. And sure enough, a new section had been added to the leveling overlay: [Designation: REVOLVER] [Instrument Class: DEIFIC] [Anchored Realm: PRETJORD (+1)] [PHYSICAL Base AV: 124 -> ] [INFERNAL Base AV: 136 -> ] [ZEALOUS Base AV: 142 -> ] [PRIMAL Base AV: 137 -> ] [ERUDITE Base AV: 130 -> ] [MARTIAL Base AV: 130 -> ] [DEIFIC Base AV: 145 -> ] Neat! Now I wanna see what happens when I play around with the I-series of attributes. ¡°¡ªac.¡± Huh. So, right now, my highest ¡®I¡¯ is [Immanence] at 20. If I put three points into that, I bump up my Infernal AV to 141, Zealous to 150, and Deific to 150. Three-for-one deal! I mean, I don¡¯t know when I¡¯ll ever be able to use Deific damage, but this still looks like the best bang for buck. ¡°¡ªrac!¡± Next, let¡¯s check¡ªwait, is someone calling for me? ¡°Serac! Sorry to do this to ya, but we gotta roll out, like right now.¡± ¡°Wayfarer, I believe that pestering voice belongs to the Manusya.¡± But I haven¡¯t even had the time to weigh up my options! Oh, screw this. Play it safe and put three points into [Attunement]. At least more MP is always useful, no matter what. [Karmic Level: 30 -> 33] [Attunement: 15 -> 18] [MP: 89 -> 104] [Burden: 32 -> 35] [ZEALOUS Mitigation: 12.5% -> 13.6%] [ERUDITE Mitigation: 15.9% -> 17.6%] Serac locked in the changes then stood, in a considerably worse mood than before she¡¯d taken her seat. ¡°What?¡± She snapped at Zacko in irritation, but then she herself immediately saw the ¡®what¡¯, made evident by a very prominent absence. ¡°Where¡¯s Lars?¡± she asked in alarm, scanning the platform for any signs of the towering sturgeon. He shouldn¡¯t have been difficult to miss. Beside her, Renate had already gotten to her feet, with DREDGER reslung across her back. ¡°Dude¡¯s run off on his own,¡± Zacko explained, eyebrows flat. ¡°Says he felt a change to the ripples. Something about his brother. Whatever it is, it apparently couldn¡¯t wait for you girls to finish.¡± ¡°We¡¯d better follow the sturgeon quickly,¡± Renate remarked as she too leaned over the edge of the platform, with her pink skin shimmering in response to the pasts and futures that rippled all around. ¡°That is, if you don¡¯t want him facing this monster on his own.¡± 89. The Hewer of Roots 89. The Hewer of Roots Renate took the lead¡ªonly natural, given she was now the only ripple-reader among the spelunkers. This, unfortunately, upped the degree of difficulty for the two outrealmers. Not only did Renate¡¯s petite frame fail to provide a barrier against the elements, she also moved with more speed and less patience than the sturgeon man. It was all Serac could do not to lose sight of the hooded figure as she followed it in a near-vertical descent of the Realm-cave. Twice she nearly slipped and fell. The first time, she was saved only by a word of warning from Trippy, and the second by the strong arm of Zacko just behind her. See, Trippy? Both you and Zacko care about me in your own ways. If only you could accept him for what he brings to the table right now¡ªnot what he might or might not do in the future¡­ Between the frenetic parkouring and more self-reflections, it took Serac a while to notice that the cave was narrowing. The walls had closed in; what had started as an inconceivably wide-open space had become a cylinder, with its diameter contained within a single field of view. ¡°I believe we¡¯ve funneled ourselves into the taproot portion of the cave,¡± Renate called out from ahead. ¡°This is the Realmtree¡¯s central anchor, which means it will take us straight into the lowest part of the Roots. And we¡¯re getting close¡­¡± As if to underscore this point, the very nature of the cave changed. The walls¡ªhitherto solid, rocky, and very much tree-like¡ªtook on a softer, almost fleshy texture. The greenish glow of Zealous energy upped its intensity, giving the whole structure enough lighting for a ripple-blind Rakshasa to see where she was going. And where she was going was a very strange place indeed. After several more leaps of faith in pursuit of Renate, Serac realized that the strong winds had died down¡ªas if this narrowing corridor itself provided its own form of protection. She also noticed something disturbingly peculiar about the ¡®footholds¡¯ she¡¯d been using. For they were no longer rocky ledges, nor were they tree-like outgrowths. No, these things had a firm, bony consistency and a solid connection to the walls that helped to assuage Serac¡¯s fear of falling. At the same time, their surfaces were uniformly slick, as if coated by a mucusy substance¡ªwhich helped to bring the fear back. As the Wayfarers spelunked lower and lower, their footholds became larger and larger, each one a conical spike that anchored its wide base against the walls before tapering into sharp, pointy ends that dripped with mucus. These grew, not just in size, but in number. In fact, there were so many of them now¡ªjutting between and atop each other in dense layers, all pointing into the central cavity¡ªthat Serac no longer needed a local guide to map out her parkouring routes. And then¡­ it suddenly hit her. She knew what these things were¡ªhad seen them in many different places and in many different variations. In fact, she possessed a set of them herself. They were teeth. And even a hell bumpkin on Day 1 of her Pretjordian journey knew that teeth and tree didn¡¯t belong together, no matter how inconceivably large and Realm-spanning the latter was. ¡°Are we,¡± she yelled out to no one in particular, almost afraid of the answer, ¡°inside of a living thing? And I don¡¯t mean that in the ¡®kum ba yah, trees are living things too¡¯ sense. I mean what we¡¯re stepping on right now are teeth, and they look like they belong to something that would want to chew its food.¡± ¡°Pretty thoroughly at that, judging by the sheer number of these things,¡± Zacko quipped, as infuriatingly calm as always. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it,¡± Renate yelled back, and if Serac weren¡¯t mistaken, there was a hint of excitement in her voice. Indeed, the frog woman with a self-professed inquiring mind had slowed her parkouring pace, the better to take in the weird and wonderful sights around her. ¡°Even if we were to assume that we¡¯ve indeed wandered into the ingestive orifice of a living creature, I don¡¯t recognize this particular morphology from anything else in Pretjord. We¡¯re in the presence of something truly unprecedented¡­¡± Serac¡¯s first instinct should¡¯ve been to take the local at her word. After all, what did she, a hell bumpkin, know anything about Pretjordian biology? But then¡­ she found herself disagreeing with the ¡®unprecedented¡¯ part of that spiel. She couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she had seen this exact ¡®morphology¡¯ on a living creature before¡ªand not just once or twice or even hundreds of times. And then it hit her. A circular maw. Rows upon rows of fine, razor-sharp teeth. Like the head and mouth of a lamprey. Of course she¡¯d seen this arrangement hundreds of times before. After all, she¡¯d farmed the creature in question damn near to extinction. For these teeth looked like they belonged on a Narakite Flesh-fiend. But¡­ she also decided to keep this notion to herself. She¡¯d seen and heard many strange things on her journey, but this was a little too far-fetched even for her. I don¡¯t want to sound like a complete lunatic, especially when Renate and I were just starting to get along. On top of that bit of self-restraint, she allowed herself a private critique of Pretjord as a Realm¡ªor at least its ¡®consistency¡¯ when it came to its biotic theming. And come on, Renate¡¯s never seen ¡®lamprey teeth¡¯ before? You mean to tell me there aren¡¯t any Yakshas who¡¯re typed after a lamprey? Although, to be fair, it¡¯s a little scary to imagine what that might look like¡­ ¡°Should we maybe think about turning back?¡± Serac did ask aloud. ¡°I mean, if this thing really is some giant creature, we¡¯re just walking ourselves into its gullet, aren¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Even if it really is alive, it doesn¡¯t seem to have noticed our presence,¡± Renate retorted. ¡°And we also haven¡¯t seen any sign of the sturgeons, which means at least they managed to descend further. I say we go down as far as we can, and see what we see.¡± Was Renate¡¯s ¡®plan¡¯ the product of calm judgment, or did it come from the need to satisfy her own scholarly curiosity? Either way, Serac wasn¡¯t about to argue. Even if the Wayfarers were to meet their demise here, the risk was mitigated by their recent reconstitution and offloading of Liminal Karma. Serac¡¯s train of thought was soon cut short, as the trio of spelunkers came upon their next discovery. Slangespytts. Not just ten or a dozen, but a whole swarm of the Poison Balls crowded the spaces in between the lamprey teeth. There were so many of them, in fact, that it wasn¡¯t hard to imagine this to be a breeding ground of sorts. All those Poison Balls that were hanging out in the cave and bubbling up to the surface¡­ did they all come from here? Was this¡­ ¡®lamprey¡¯ thing spitting them out this whole time? But Serac had no time to ponder the question, for she soon saw the distinctive figure of Lars Tomasen¡ªOAR held aloft as he tried to muscle his way through the Slangespytt piles. He was having a predictably hard time of it, what with having no way to fight back or defend himself. ¡°Zacko, you stay put!¡± Serac seized the opportunity to take charge and kick ass¡ªit¡¯d certainly been a long time coming. ¡°Lars, you big dummy! Get yourself out of there and let us girls handle this one. Renate, I¡¯m going to open, then you go after the stragglers, got it?¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. A KL-33 Rakshasa bossing around a Yaksha at least 30 levels above her. It was a sight to behold, and perhaps it was the novelty of it more than anything that made the latter shut up and follow along. Lars too obeyed as soon as he saw that the cavalry had arrived. He jumped to the safety of the nearest tooth up, before flattening himself against the fleshy wall. As soon as she saw that the sturgeon was clear of the danger zone, Serac opened fire. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [235!] And she didn¡¯t stop there. She kept firing into the crowd with unimbued bullets that could do no damage to the Slangespytts, with the sole intention to empty out the cylinder and cycle back to Chamber One. [190!], [228!], [457!] [Catharsis] went through its three stages of penitence, spreading like wildfire all the while. The cylindrical corridor filled with a fantastical display of black flames and shining Souldust, all of it glazed by the greenish gleam of the cave walls. [860 ?], [860 ?], [860 ?], ¡­ Serac¡¯s Pathsight was bombarded by an endless slew of messages. All good news, of course, but it also upped her stakes and sense of urgency. If she were to die now, it¡¯d be a job and a half to retrieve all that freshly won Karma. Elsewhere, Renate had already jumped into her follow-up attack. A big swing of a big shovel: [Elemental Surge]. This time, DREDGER disintegrated an entire tooth, before sending its razor-sharp fragments into the crowd below. More Slangespytts succumbed to the second AOE bomb in quick succession. But while [Catharsis] and [Elemental Surge] had been powerful, they were also imprecise. Several Poison Balls remained standing¡ªor rather floating in air, and far enough apart to avoid being targeted by one attack. It¡¯d been in anticipation of this last set of stragglers that Serac had already speedloaded a fresh cylinder. [Chamber One: BLOOD FOR BLOOD] [SLANGESPYTT Status Effect: BLEED] [Wayfarer Status Effect: BLEED] With the remaining bullets converted to Infernal damage, Serac took her time to pick off the rest of the Poison Balls. Aim, lock, fire. Even amidst a battlefield scorched and scarred by spectacular magic, the basic principles of marksmanship still applied. [190!], [190!], [190!], [190!], [190!] [860 ?], [860 ?], [860 ?] And that was that. With the immediate threat dealt with, Serac hopped down several more teeth, before landing next to Lars Tomasen. The sturgeon man looked to be in very bad shape indeed, now slumped against the wall with a pained expression, like he might throw up at any moment. And as Serac checked his HP bar, she saw that it was practically racing to the bottom. ¡°Motgift Pellet!¡± she yelled, still using her bossing-souls-around voice. ¡°Do you have any left?¡± ¡°Already took my last one,¡± Lars said through labored breathing, ¡°still four stacks of [Poison] left.¡± ¡°Here, use this instead.¡± That was when Renate sidled up to the two of them, shoving a spherical object¡ªabout the size of an orange¡ªin Lars¡¯s face. It was the same gleaming vial Serac had spied earlier. Up close, she saw it contained a creamy orange liquid¡ªnot unlike the color of the [Satiety] gauge¡ªand it came with its own Pathsighted label: [Pearl of IMMERSION]. It¡¯s the thing that cured Zacko of his [Poison] the first time, Serac understood implicitly, then waited anxiously for Lars to accept the gesture. To the sturgeon man¡¯s credit, he didn¡¯t hesitate for long, and he downed the [Pearl]¡¯s contents in one big gulp. Almost instantly, the ¡®color¡¯ returned to his face. His HP also halted its freefall. The man stood to his full height, looking ready to take on the whole world¡ªif it weren¡¯t for the large chunk that was still missing from his health bar. ¡°¡­ My thanks,¡± Lars grumbled, and had the decency to meet Renate¡¯s round eyes with his cold glare. The latter seemed to consider him for a moment, then reached once more into the containers around her chest. She pulled out a second vial, this time filled with a blood-red liquid and labeled: [Pearl of COURAGE]. ¡°Here,¡± she said, handing the vial to Lars, ¡°you could do with this one too, Stammer.¡± If anything, Lars¡¯s hesitation was longer this time¡ªthough probably not out of mistrust. If Serac were to guess, the man simply took exception to the suggestion that he lacked ¡®courage¡¯. He downed the [Pearl] anyway, this time broken up into several swigs. By now, Serac knew exactly what to look out for. And sure enough, the red that represented Lars¡¯s health filled back up to its maximum¡ªalmost as if the contents of the [Pearl] had transferred itself directly into his HP bar. ¡°Neat!¡± Serac proclaimed with a big smile. ¡°You¡¯re just full of solutions, aren¡¯t you, Renate? Boy, you must be handy to have around in a Wayfaring party!¡± For a moment, an odd expression crossed the frog woman¡¯s face, a strange mixture halfway between anger and laughter. In the end, laughter seemed to win out, as she croaked out a light chuckle. This puzzled Serac. She couldn¡¯t understand how her words could be construed as either funny or offensive. In any case, Renate herself volunteered no further explanation, as she instead pulled out two more [Pearls] from her bandolier¡ªof the creamy orange [Immersion] variety¡ªbefore handing off one each to Serac and Zacko. ¡°Might as well leave these with you now,¡± she said. ¡°Drink it only if you¡¯ve reached the max stack of [Poison]¡ªor if you¡¯re literally about to die from it any second.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± this from Zacko, ¡°but Bubblegum, didn¡¯t you say you only had one of these to spare?¡± ¡°I had just enough time to rearrange OYSTER¡¯s loadout before we set off,¡± Renate explained. ¡°Good thing I did too, because I imagine we¡¯ll encountering more sources of [Poison] the further down we go.¡± ¡°Did you,¡± this from Lars, who looked visibly discomfited by what he was about to ask, ¡°did you perhaps bring an extra? For Hans, I mean.¡± ¡°I do have one more here,¡± Renate said, pointing to her chest. Then, after the briefest of pauses, she added, ¡°But I¡¯m saving that for myself.¡± Lars¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°I understand,¡± the man said, then left it at that. It was time for the reunited quartet to move on. But that was also when the whole cave came alive. Bwwwwhhhhaaaarrrr¡­ The booming lamentation issued from below, above, sideways, everywhere. For it was the living cave itself¡ªand whatever ill intent roiled within its bosom¡ªthat had produced it. Serac instinctively shut her eyes and plugged her ears. She felt the mucusy surface of the tooth shake beneath her feet, nearly throwing her off balance. And when she opened her eyes again, she saw that the fleshy walls around her now burned bright with the green fire of Zeal and [Hunger]. ¡°Welp, I guess we should¡¯ve thought of this before we set off our fireworks,¡± Serac quipped with performative nonchalance, taking a page out of Zacko¡¯s book. ¡°If this thing didn¡¯t know we were here before, it definitely knows now.¡± ¡°Would you have done anything differently?¡± Renate¡¯s question was more rhetorical than anything, and in her round, defiant eyes, Serac saw a little something of herself. She shook her head by way of answer, smirking with irreverent bravado and excitement for the fight that was about to come¡ªagainst a boss whose ¡®arena¡¯ was the boss itself. And Pathsight too joined in on the hype, gracing the momentous occasion with a fresh label¡ªgrandiose, formidable, and surprising in equal measure: [Designation: MULAHARTA¡ªHewer of Roots] [Aberrant Race: Hellspawn] [Aberrant Class: Dungeon Boss] [ZEALOUS Instrument: GIZZARD] 90. Gizzard (Part 1) 90. Gizzard (Part 1) [Designation: GIZZARD] [Instrument Class: ZEALOUS] [Anchored Realm: PRETJORD (+1)] [Item Description: Consider a creature whose entire existence amounted to feeding on dead or rotting tissue¡ªthe dregs left behind by hell¡¯s lowliest Penitents. Now, stay with this creature as it¡¯s uprooted to a new Realm, one in which its bottomless hunger is made real. It continues to feed¡ªnot out of a senseless drive to punish and demean others¡ªbut to sate a newfound desire for good, enriching food. You might imagine then, that as this creature¡¯s diet undergoes a dramatic change, so too must its digestive apparatus transmute and manifest its own kind of miracle¡­] *** Hellspawn? Serac found herself momentarily frozen in shock. For here was Pathsighted proof that her earlier lunatic musings had in fact being the correct answer all along. A Flesh-fiend that somehow found its way to the next Realm up¡­ and gotten absolutely giant for its trouble! But she was quickly jolted out of her hesitation, thanks to the sight of her Wayfaring mates jumping straight into action. Zacko with his trusty fist, Renate with her shovel, and Lars with his OAR all had the same idea in mind. They each picked a spot on the wall closest to them and gave it all they got. Thwack! Slam! Bang! The walls looked like they were made of flesh, and they acted like it too. The Wayfarers¡¯ attacks elicited the appropriate physical feedback, both tactile and auditory. Encouragingly, they also produced the changes that mattered most¡ªnamely to the boss¡¯s health. Serac had briefly wondered if this might be another ¡®gimmick fight¡¯, but Mulaharta did possess an HP bar: a hefty one that, instead of being tied to a physical entity, stayed centered in a Wayfarer¡¯s visual field. In this case, it¡¯d already gone down by about 5% or so, just from that triple opener. Well, that¡¯s good, right? We just need to sit tight and keep whacking away. That HP bar will go down in no time, especially once I join in too. But Serac¡¯s hopes were dashed in short order, as she witnessed something unprecedented in her Wayfaring career. For almost in the same Ksana as she imagined how the rest of the fight might go, the missing 5% of Mulaharta¡¯s health replenished itself fully¡ªso fast as to be all but instantaneous. Serac blinked, wondering if she¡¯d only imagined the bar going down in the first place. Then she watched as Zacko beside her tried a half-hearted karate chop. Same result: real damage as registered by Pathsight, only for it to be reversed at nearly the same instant. ¡°It¡¯s healing itself,¡± Serac got the ball rolling by stating the obvious, ¡°just about as soon as we deal damage to it.¡± ¡°Well, like my mama always used to say,¡± Zacko took the analysis one step further, ¡°you are what you eat. A boss called ¡®Hewer of Roots¡¯ who uses a ¡®GIZZARD¡¯ as an Instrument? I¡¯d guess this thing¡¯s been eating up the insides of this big fuck-off tree all this time, and it¡¯s obviously found a use for all those nutrients.¡± ¡°What happens,¡± Renate moved onto solutions, ¡°if we simply deal so much damage to it at once that it has no chance to recover?¡± ¡°It is worth try,¡± Lars put forth the motion to proceed, ¡°assuming we are capable of such damage.¡± ¡°Well,¡± it all circled back to Serac, who gave the final seal of approval, ¡°there are four of us and one HP bar. I¡¯m sure we could come up with something!¡± It occurred to her then that this was by far the calmest boss battle she¡¯d ever been party to. The Wayfarers had yet to make a dent, but neither had this Mulaharta shown any signs of fighting back. Honestly, this feels more like one of those board games Zacko and I played back in the Wayside Lotus. It¡¯s like we¡¯ve got all the time in the world to be patient and figure out solutions¡­ ¡°You might not be far off, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy added a fifth voice to the discussion, though one only Serac could hear. ¡°It¡¯s not terribly uncommon for the challenges on Mount Meru to present as puzzles that require a bespoke solution. However, I wouldn¡¯t yet relax if I were you. Not when we still know next to nothing about this boss and its Instrument¡­¡± Duly noted, Serac acknowledged the voice in her head before putting the same head together with her Wayfarer mates. The question was simple: how could we, in our combined might, produce the highest DPS possible? The solution, however, was far more multi-faceted. ¡°I have with me one [Pearl of STRENGTH],¡± Renate said, pulling out a vial of silver liquid. ¡°It should go to whoever can output the highest damage in the shortest amount of time. I doubt that¡¯s me. [Elemental Surge] isn¡¯t exactly suited to focusing on a single target, and my Physical prowess with DREDGER isn¡¯t anything to write home about.¡± ¡°Nor me,¡± this, surprisingly, from Lars the muscly-armed sturgeon man. ¡°Without Hans here to activate COASTER, I do not have access to my most destructive spells.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t use your Instrument without your brother?¡± Serac asked incredulously. ¡°That sounds¡­ awfully inconvenient.¡± Lars shrugged, then said simply, ¡°Co-wielding an Instrument has its advantages and disadvantages.¡± In any case, that narrowed the option down to the two outrealmers, who now exchanged a look of appraisal. By this point in their partnership, they were well aware of what each other¡¯s ¡®highest-DPS¡¯ move might be. Serac¡¯s, of course, was [Catharsis], and she could buff the damage even further by hurting herself a little more. But she also knew that even [Catharsis]¡¯s multiplicative damage potential paled in comparison to¡ª ¡°Come on, Serac, just say yes,¡± Zacko pleaded with an insincere pout. ¡°We both know this is as good a time as any for me to dip into the ol¡¯ Karma bank.¡± ¡°Oh, fine,¡± Serac conceded, ¡°but only because you just finished leveling up.¡± ¡°Consider this as an investment. Whatever I put into this, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get it back double or more. I mean, just look at the size of this boss!¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. With that, Zacko unclipped the wooden mask from his belt and brought it up to his face¡ªangry ¡®Prajna¡¯ side up. He stopped short of putting it on, however, as he turned his gaze onto Renate and the silver vial in her hand. ¡°The Manusya then?¡± Renate asked mildly, evidently having no horse in the race. ¡°We¡¯re decided?¡± Both outrealmers nodded their confirmation. Renate handed Zacko the [Pearl of Strength], and he downed it in one go. He must¡¯ve been more agitated than he let on; drops of the silver liquid dribbled down the side of his mouth before settling on his manicured beard. He then made a face as he came up for air, almost as scrunched up as his Prajna mask. ¡°Eugh. What do you put in this thing? Shit tastes like the hokey medicines my mama made me drink when I was little.¡± ¡°Maybe once this is all over, I could compare notes with your mother,¡± Renate said indifferently. ¡°For now, I need you to focus. The buff only lasts for 30 seconds.¡± ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯m definitely feeling it! Alright, folks, to your stations. Let¡¯s do this thing.¡± With that, Zacko jumped down to the next tooth below, giving himself plenty of room to maneuver. The two Yakshas turned to follow suit, each staking a claim on a piece of Mulaharta¡¯s fleshy wall. ¡­ Which left Serac scrambling for a way to deal herself some extra damage. ¡°Wait, Lars!¡± she called after the sturgeon man. ¡°Before we start, could you, uh, hit me? With your OAR. As hard as you can.¡± Lars looked at her like she¡¯d just told him to hit her as hard as he could. ¡°Is this Narakite joke? I do not¡ª¡± ¡°No time to explain! Just do it, I promise you it¡¯s for a good cause!¡± The request was so strange that Lars, incredibly enough, turned to Renate for confirmation, who merely shrugged in response. But the clock was ticking, so the sturgeon man gripped his OAR with bulging muscles and swung for Serac, pulling no punches as he did. ¡°Wait, I¡¯m not¡ªoof!¡± Before Serac could finish wondering if she¡¯d made a terrible miscalculation, the flat part of STROKE-SIDE OAR¡¯s blade landed in her stomach with a heavy thud. [162!] Serac doubled over in pain, doing her darnedest to keep her head in the game. Even when combined with the ongoing DoT from [Bleed], the damage wasn¡¯t quite enough to get her where she wanted. She then consulted Trippy and his bird¡¯s eye view of the situation. ¡°You could do with one more, Wayfarer,¡± he informed her immediately, clearly on board with the plan. Serac looked up at Lars with watering eyes and made a looping gesture with her finger. One more. This time, the sturgeon man didn¡¯t hesitate to oblige her. [174!] The second hit in the combo landed even more heavily (and painfully!) than the first. Serac gritted her teeth as she held her ground, kept her Poise, and checked her HP. Just about a quarter left, she thought tearfully, perfect! ¡°Okay, I¡¯m ready!¡± she announced, turning around to aim REVOLVER at the opposite wall. ¡°On your marks!¡± Zacko didn¡¯t miss a beat as yelled up from one tooth below. ¡°Get set, go go go!¡± [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [Auxiliary Technique: ELEMENTAL SURGE] [VISAGE Aspect: SINNER] Plus some good ol¡¯ swings with the broad side of a paddle. [235!] [136!], [245!], [490!] -> [871!] It might not have been as much damage as she¡¯d hoped, but it was honest work nonetheless. Serac emptied the rest of REVOLVER¡¯s unimbued cylinder for good measure (producing a modest [136!] each time), then peered down to catch the final moments of Zacko¡¯s heroics. The man in the angry Prajna mask was imbued from head to toe in an equally angry-red aura. Despite his comparatively inferior Karmic Level, his burst potential far outstripped even those of the two Yakshas. Every sequence of his wrathful combo produced a visible impact crater upon the fleshy wall, all while taking massive chunks off Mulaharta¡¯s health. However, Serac saw to her dismay that even these massive chunks wouldn¡¯t be enough. As long as there was even an inch of red left, Mulaharta filled itself back up immediately, at a furious pace to match a [Berserking], [Strength]-buffed NINEFOLD master. The 15 seconds of [Berserk] were up. Zacko¡¯s red aura dissipated instantly as he fell to his knees, Poise-broken. His HP was down to its absolute last hair, as part of the price he¡¯d paid to open up [Sinner Aspect]¡¯s burst window. It was doubly ironic and infuriating then, that Zacko¡¯s hard work bore no fruit. Mulaharta¡¯s HP still chugged along at 100%, and even the wounds upon its walls healed themselves in record time. It was like the Wayfarers weren¡¯t even there. Not even a scratch. Literally. Serac thought bitterly, herself looking not much better off than her long-time partner, what with a barrage of self-inflicted wounds having whittled her HP down to its last 5%. ¡°That¡­ didn¡¯t work,¡± Renate re-opened the floor for discussions, first by stating the obvious. ¡°I suppose we might¡¯ve expected as much. No boss I¡¯ve come across has ever sat idle while allowing the opponent a free smite.¡± ¡°There must be gimmick,¡± Lars stirred the pot by invoking the G-word. ¡°Weak spot we are missing¡­ or alternative method to make damage stick.¡± ¡°Well, if it¡¯s GIZZARD that¡¯s responsible for the instant healing,¡± Serac hazarded a guess, ¡°should we maybe go after it directly? Maybe there¡¯s a way to disable GIZZARD, just enough for us to finish off Mulaharta.¡± ¡°I¡¯m with princess on this one,¡± Zacko yelled out his contribution, noticeably out of breath, ¡°which probably means we have to dive down even lower to find the damn thing. But listen, I¡¯m literally down to one point of HP, and Serac isn¡¯t doing so hot either. Would you two¡±¡ªhe nodded up towards the Yakshas¡ª¡°mind terribly if we went back to the Waystation real quick? I mean, this giant worm thing isn¡¯t going anywhere, and it doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯s in any hurry to¡ª¡± Bwwwwhhhhaaaarrrr¡­ There was that sound again, noticeably louder (and windier!) than the last. And even as Serac hastened to grab hold of her toothy platform, she heard something more in the creature¡¯s baleful roar. They were words, or rather thoughts¡ªcarried by wind to be then imprinted on the Wayfarers¡¯ bodies as ripples. It¡¯s so good to see you again, ¡®Mully¡¯. And my, look how you¡¯ve grown! Serac started and opened her eyes wide, looking frantically for the source of the voice. But it hadn¡¯t really been a ¡®voice¡¯, and therefore, it didn¡¯t really have a ¡®source¡¯. Rather, it¡¯d always been a part of the world¡ªto be dredged up, chewed up, and spat back out to suit the needs of the zealously living. What had startled Serac most of all, however, was just how familiar the ¡®voice¡¯ had sounded. It resonated with something etched deep within her bones¡ªsomething that sang of home and long-forgotten bonds. But she was quickly jolted out of her bewilderment, thanks to the sight of her Wayfaring mates jumping straight into action. Well, two of her mates, at least. Renate first¡ªthen Lars immediately after¡ªhopped off their respective teeth and resumed their spelunking at breakneck speed, without so much as a word of explanation to the outrealmers. ¡°Yo, what is this?¡± Zacko complained loudly, but to no avail. The two Yakshas were already well out of earshot. ¡°So I take it that¡¯s a ¡®no¡¯ to the potty break then?¡± ¡°Sorry Zacko!¡± Serac shouted, even as she too dove into a solo parkour run. ¡°No time to explain, but I think I¡¯ve got to go too!¡± 91. Gizzard (Part 2) 91. Gizzard (Part 2) As Serac pursued the Yakshas¡ªand followed the voice that rang through her mind¡ªshe once again found herself drawing parallels between this Realm-cave and the Damnatorium. I can¡¯t take you with me, Mully. Not now when there¡¯s still work to be done. This portion of the cave reminded her strongly of the Hanging Fruit. Granted, the hallucinations here were strictly of an auditory nature, and their direct connections to Serac Edin weren¡¯t immediately clear. But they served the same purpose: to confound, to tempt, and to draw any passersby deeper and lower into their own demise. You¡¯ll just have to wait for me. But I promise you that I will come for you again. Serac eyed the backs of a tree-frog and a sturgeon, even as she pushed herself to close the distance. She wondered if the Yakshas heard the same voice she did. Or perhaps, to them, the ripples gave off an entirely different call, one that compelled¡ªno, demanded¡ªan immediate and sincere answer. And I promise you another thing, Mully. An endless feast. For me and for you. That you may never know [Hunger] again. That you may grow to your heart¡¯s content. Grow, grow, and grow until you¡¯re the biggest thing in Pretjord¡ªuntil you¡¯re bigger than the Realm itself! A sudden chill ran down Serac¡¯s spine. She understood fully why she continued to dive ever faster and ever lower, knowing full well she was serving herself up as a giant Flesh-fiend¡¯s latest meal. Whatever this thing was¡ªwhatever its ¡®work¡¯ that needed doing¡ªit must be stopped. But that was when a second wave of ripples floated up and washed over the first: Rotgard is no more, brother. And if we are to put wrongs to rights, first, we must become stronger. We must ascend¡ªthat we may yet return to our roots and help them flourish anew. This second voice was also familiar. This time, it was because Serac knew the soul it belonged to. Hans Tomasen in his gruff, rough, sturgeon baritone¡ªspeaking to his brother as if they were standing next to each other. A memory then? But the ripples didn¡¯t end there: Roots! Our home, our Path to seek the stars. Tomorrow! The dreams to replenish our cup. This third voice¡ªno, many voices joined together in song¡ªwere also familiar (three for three!). This time, it was because Serac had been curious and studious enough to read the item descriptions and flavor texts that populated her Pathsighted database. These lines are from the item description for DREDGER, she mused inwardly. Does that mean this call is for Renate? Three different messages for three Wayfarers¡­ except I still don¡¯t know who exactly is speaking in mine¡­ Things quickly went from puzzling to downright incomprehensible. For as Serac dove deeper, so too did the ripple-borne messages come in thicker and faster. Before long, there were too many for her to sift through, let alone decipher their meaning. Yet, one voice among them continued to ring loudest and clearest. It was the very first one she¡¯d heard¡ªcheery and tender, yet touched by melancholy, as it spoke to ¡®Mully¡¯ and their shared dream of an endless feast. And it was this voice Serac now followed, down and down into the belly of an ever-[Hungry] beast. First Renate¡ªthen Lars at nearly the same time¡ªcame to a halt, with each of them perched atop a lamprey tooth the size of an oak tree. Serac tried to follow suit, but instead skidded and slipped, having to use Lars¡¯s towering frame to catch herself. Just on the tooth above her, Zacko had a much smoother time of falling in line. ¡°There,¡± Renate said, pointing with a pink, padded finger. ¡°You see it? That must be GIZZARD.¡± By now, Serac knew better than to expect Mount Meru¡¯s magical artifacts to be objects of beauty or even awe. Wayfarers, Aberrants, and Immortals might embellish themselves with distinctive fashion, fancy accoutrements, and exaggerated mythos, but their Instruments¡ªwithout fail¡ªretained their original, unassuming forms. GIZZARD was no exception. It was very big, too be sure, but beyond that, it could only be described as a fleshy pouch¡ªan organ of indeterminate function that wouldn¡¯t be out of place anywhere that was fed by arteries and drained by veins. Its muscular, pulsating surface was covered in fat, mucus, and exposed bits of cartilage. Which, ironically enough, made it stand out amidst a forest of giant lamprey teeth. All the more so, when it too featured its own ¡®projection¡¯ of something that definitely didn¡¯t belong. The bulky figure of a sturgeon man¡ªor at least Hans Tomasen¡¯s upper body¡ªprotruded out of a circular ring of muscles that served as one of GIZZARD¡¯s sphincters. Despite his rigid posture, he was visibly unconscious, with eyes closed, head slumped, and arms dangling limply by his sides. At least Serac hoped he was unconscious¡­ because whatever was happening to him did not look pleasant at all. This version of Hans sported a disheveled, soaked-through appearance, like he¡¯d just received the affections of a giant, slobbering dog. His body bulged, not with muscles, but with fluctuant veins that had engorged far beyond their natural capacity. And whatever fluid coursed through these veins now glowed with the same greenish energy that lit the whole of Mulaharta¡¯s insides. If buddy¡¯s still alive, he must be super [Poisoned]! Along with that inane observation, Serac scanned Hans¡¯s limp figure with Pathsight, thus confirming her suspicions: [HANS TOMASEN Status Effect: POISON (x5)]. Which made it doubly surprising to see that his HP bar was full. ¡°He is healing faster than the [Poison] tick,¡± Lars murmured beside her, ¡°just like this Mulaharta itself.¡± ¡°Good call,¡± Serac agreed, then side-eyed her sturgeon guardrail. ¡°Although I¡¯m a bit surprised you haven¡¯t gone sprinting after him yet.¡± ¡°Now I see, so I am calm. Now is time for solutions,¡± Lars explained, then pointed a large, scaly finger. ¡°And sprinting into middle of that is not solution.¡± That, of course, referred to the veritable army of Wildspawns that had come out of the woodwork, seeping up from the depths below or crawling out from the crevices between teeth. There were the usual suspects of Slangespytts, but the green balls of poison were now joined by floppy, slimy, writhing tadpoles¡ªRumpetrolls. The Wildspawns gathered in numbers, no doubt readying themselves for the Wayfarers¡¯ assault. But not one of them showed any interest in the glowing, slumped figure of Hans Tomasen¡­ which likely meant the other twin had been subsumed into Mulaharta¡¯s ecosystem¡ªat least for now. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Assuming GIZZARD¡¯s proprietary resource is the food it consumes,¡± Renate said, ¡°and that its output includes this endless horde of Wildspawns, it makes sense that Mulaharta would concentrate all its defenses here. It¡¯s a simple matter of efficiency.¡± ¡°But that also mean it has something to protect,¡± Zacko reasoned. ¡°In this case, its Instrument. If we can cut through all these minions and get at GIZZARD, we should be able to smite the whole freak show.¡± ¡°I think you¡¯re right,¡± Serac cut in, craning her neck to meet Zacko¡¯s eyes, ¡°but we shouldn¡¯t ignore the fact that Mulaharta itself drew us to GIZZARD¡­ like it wanted us to come closer and try smiting it. There must be a reason for that too.¡± Zacko¡¯s quizzical frown told Serac what she¡¯d already suspected: that the Manusya knew nothing of the ripples and the voices they carried. He¡¯d merely followed the other three Wayfarers in solidarity. But that still left the curious question of why Serac, a Rakshasa, could sense and respond to what her fellow outrealmer couldn¡¯t. ¡°Be that as it may,¡± Renate steered the focus back onto the task at hand, ¡°we must find a way to smite this thing if we¡¯re to move on. Any ideas?¡± ¡°First, we establish our available options,¡± Lars suggested, fully back to his coldly glaring self. ¡°Determine boss¡¯s mitigation profile and observe its moveset, both offensive and defensive. From there, we choose the best approach.¡± ¡°Sounds like something that might require multiple attempts,¡± Serac said with a wry smile, remembering a similar conversation she had with Zacko right before taking on a certain Realm Immortal. ¡°If need be, yes,¡± Lars said without batting an eye. Then he turned that impassive eye downward, where his brother still stuck out like a sore, green-glowing thumb amidst a roiling mess of Wildspawns. ¡°But there are four of us¡ªmaybe five, depending on how things go¡ªand one boss. No reason why we should not aim for smite on first try.¡± The taciturn sturgeon man could really turn up the rhetoric when he wanted to. His latest pep talk elicited savage grins from both Serac and Zacko¡ªand even Renate appeared to crack a smile. ¡°Before we start,¡± the frog woman said with a cough to hide that smile, ¡°I still have some Pearls left that should be of use. Here¡±¡ªshe produced two more vials of red liquid, handing each off to Serac and Zacko¡ª¡°[Courage] for the two outrealmers, already down to the last inch of their lives before the fight¡¯s even begun. And lastly¡­¡± Next was a vial of blue liquid. It was the first Serac had seen it, but by now, she¡¯d picked up on the pattern enough to guess its function. The potion-slinger herself hesitated for a moment before deciding on its new home. ¡°I¡¯ll leave this with the Rakshasa,¡± Renate eventually announced, handing the vial off to Serac. ¡°Your spells are Mana-hungry, but they do come in handy. [Pearl of WISDOM] will heal you back to full MP, so wait until you¡¯ve nearly run out before you drink it.¡± ¡°Got it, chief!¡± Serac said eagerly as she secured the blue vial onto her belt, where it clinked against its creamy orange sibling. She then downed the blood-red liquid of [Courage] with impatient gusto. I¡¯ve been dying (literally) to try one of these things! The taste of it was a little less straightforward than she might have anticipated. Sweet yet spicy, with a medicinal aftertaste that left her tongue feeling a little raw. Perhaps, if she¡¯d had more experience with food in general, she might have a better reference point. All in good time. The important thing, for now, was that her HP¡ªdown to its last inch, like Renate had pointed out¡ªfilled back up to its maximum. ¡°And remember, both of you,¡± Renate again, referring to the two outrealmers. ¡°You still have that [Pearl of Immersion] I gave you earlier. Don¡¯t forget to treat your [Poison] as needed.¡± Nods all around. And with that final bit of preparation, the Wayfarers were off. First, to test the boss¡¯s mitigation profile. In order to do that, they needed to clear out a line of sight. Presently, much of GIZZARD¡¯s surface was covered by bouncing, writhing swarms of Poison Balls and Tadpole Grenades. Far from discouraged, however, Serac believed that this should work in the Wayfarers¡¯ favor. She herself could take advantage of the Slangespytts¡¯ highly flammable secretions and dense proximity to each other. And her shovel-swinging tree-frog of a partner had a way to use the Rumpetrolls¡¯ volatility against their neighbors. [Auxiliary Technique: ELEMENTAL SURGE] A lamprey tooth disintegrated into a fusillade of enamel-coated shrapnel. The AOE attack dealt its usual damage to the Slangespytts, but its effect on the Rumpetrolls was more destructive¡ªand far more spectacular. For the spikes punctured the slimy tadpoles, thereby setting off a chain reaction of on-death explosions. It wasn¡¯t enough to clear the whole arena of mobs, but it¡¯d certainly thinned the horde, just enough for Serac to get visuals on GIZZARD¡¯s fleshy surface. [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [235!] [136!], [163!], [326!] -> [625!] It hit! Activated from full health, the damage left something to be desired, but at the very least, it taught the Wayfarers that GIZZARD had no mitigation against Infernal damage. More importantly, the damage stuck, leaving a mark upon Mulaharta¡¯s HP bar that it couldn¡¯t erase in an instant. This is too easy! Serac thought. A stationary target with no real mitigation to speak of. Protected by a ton of adds, sure, but they¡¯re all susceptible to AOE. Now, all we have to do is pile on and¡ª But alas, Serac had invoked the E-word. Far too prematurely and with insufficient knowledge about the boss¡¯s moveset¡ªoffensive or defensive. Amidst a forest of lamprey teeth, and amidst a roiling mess of Wildspawns, one figure above all stuck out like a sore, green-glowing thumb. And it was this limp, partially ingested figure of Hans Tomasen¡ªHP still full despite the fireworks going off right next to him¡ªthat suddenly flashed and filled the entire arena with sparks of Zealous energy. The sparks flew too fast for Serac to catch their approach. Besides which, she was blinded from the sheer intensity of their light. She did feel them, however. Or more accurately, she went numb as they jolted through her body. [71!] [Wayfarer Status Effect: PARALYSIS] The body of Hans Tomasen glowed brightly, ¡®charging up¡¯ for another wave of paralyzing sparks. Serac tried to run to safety, but she couldn¡¯t move, jumbled as she was by the electricity that coursed through her every nerve and muscle. Oh, this is me done for the fight, she realized. I¡¯m just gonna be¡ªwhat was Zacko¡¯s word for this?¡ªstun-locked to death. But that was when a strong pair of arms pulled her up by the armpits and dragged her behind the nearest tooth. A wave of [Paralysis] did shoot through the arena again, but Serac was safe behind her physical barrier, thanks to her mystery rescuer¡­ ¡­ Who turned out to be Lars Tomasen, of course. Serac should¡¯ve picked up on the pattern by now. ¡°Thanks,¡± she said hoarsely, suddenly finding herself able to move and speak. As debilitating as [Paralysis] was, its duration seemed to be mercifully brief. ¡°Got a bit careless. Didn¡¯t know Mulaharta had that up its sleeve.¡± ¡°It does not, I think,¡± Lars said cryptically. Only then did Serac notice his brow knotted in consternation and his voice trembling with anger. The sturgeon went on to clarify, ¡°Or rather, it did not. Not until it absorbed my brother. For that is Hans¡¯s magic.¡± 92. Gizzard (Part 3) 92. Gizzard (Part 3) If Lars Tomasen was ice, then Hans was lightning. Yet here, deep within the bowel of the beast, lightning charged through the air while ice hid in place. Sparks flew overhead, threatening to ¡®stun-lock¡¯ whoever would be foolish enough to jump into the open. But Serac still needed to assess the situation, so she bent down to take a peek through a fissure between two lamprey teeth. The whole arena filled with epileptic flashes of alternating white-and-green, which left Serac with a queasy sensation that had nothing to do with any status effect. Within the brief moments where white dimmed into green, she managed to make out the figures of Renate and Zacko, both of whom crouched low within their respective hiding spots. All four Wayfarers were pinned down, however, with no immediate solution on how best to proceed. Could this be a war of attrition? Could they wait out Mulaharta while it exhausted the resources it converted into borrowed magic? But the existence of the Wildspawn army further complicated matters. The Rumpetrolls began to move through the corridor en masse, as if obeying some broadcast command. They flopped and bounced up the dental platforms, headed for the Wayfarers¡¯ positions. Some of them were caught by the indiscriminate lightning storm, freezing in place as [Paralysis] took hold. But there were plenty that made the distance unscathed. And as their writhing black bodies touched down on the Wayfarers¡¯ natural barricades, they exploded, each time gouging out large chunks of the lamprey teeth. Seeing this, Serac understood that this was indeed a war of attrition¡ªexcept it was the Wayfarers who were likely to run out of hiding places before Mulaharta lost its ability to smoke them out. If they were to turn the tide of battle, they needed to take the fight to the boss and its magic-stealing Instrument. ¡°Yo, Bubblegum!¡± Zacko was the first to pivot to Plan B, one that he evidently drew up on the fly. ¡°This [Pearl of Immersion]¡­ You mentioned it also has a passive effect?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Renate shouted over the explosions, both of the electric and Tadpole Grenade variety. ¡°If you drink it at baseline, it increases your status mitigation. In other words, it should slow the build-up of both [Poison] and [Paralysis]. But even so, against this number of Slangespytts and this dense of an electric storm¡ª¡± ¡°Serac!¡± Zacko didn¡¯t wait for Renate to finish. ¡°You mind giving yours to Lars? I think I could use a bit of extra protection for what I¡¯m about to do, and big fella did seem pretty good at swatting those tadpoles. Oh, and while you¡¯re at it, tell him to get his ass down here!¡± Oh boy. We¡¯re just trying out all kinds of combinations on this trip, aren¡¯t we? But Zacko was the man with the plan, and Serac had no good reason to refuse him. She unclipped the creamy orange vial from her belt and turned to Lars, who took a moment to consider the gesture. ¡°The Manusya,¡± he asked, ¡°is he up for this?¡± ¡°As up for it as anyone I know, that¡¯s for sure!¡± Serac gave her ringing endorsement¡ªnot that she had many ¡®anyones¡¯ to compare with. That was apparently good enough for the sturgeon man, however. He took and drank the vial without another word. Serac watched from her peephole as Lars skipped over to join Zacko at his tooth. The Yaksha had taken a cautious approach, choosing a lull in the electric storm to make his move. He was still clipped by a spark on the way, which took away a small piece of his HP but fell short of proc¡¯ing [Paralysis]¡ªthanks to [Immersion]¡¯s passive effect. The two men briefly put their heads together for Zacko to give out some last-second instructions. The Manusya donned his mask¡ªBuddha side up¡ªwhile the Yaksha readied his OAR, then they were off to the races. As soon as he was out in the open, Zacko cycled through his NINEFOLD techniques, all imbued by the purple aura of his Erudite magic. With his damage mitigation buffed by [Dreamer Aspect] and status mitigation by [Pearl of Immersion], he braved the electric storm with impunity. Perhaps more importantly, he¡¯d come up with a ¡®counter¡¯ to everything. [Dreamer Aspect: THE FIRST DAO¡ªSTEEL OF REFINEMENT]. The upgraded version of [Blade] sent out energy waves of its own, allowing Zacko to keep the Slangespytts at bay without having to make skin-to-venom contact. [Dreamer Aspect: THE THIRD DAO¡ªBRASS OF ALIGNMENT]. [Cestus] turned into brass knuckles that packed a real Poise-breaking punch. This Zacko used to stop would-be Grenades in their tracks, leaving them for his Oarsman partner to finish off. [Dreamer Aspect: THE FOURTH DAO¡ªAEGIS OF FUNDAMENT]. The souped-up [Shield] was NINEFOLD defense at its best, negating all incoming attacks as long as Zacko timed his parries to perfection. This he reserved for the lightning sparks that flew directly at him. Combined with the effects of [Immersion], [Aegis] ensured that Zacko remained [Paralysis]-free as he made rapid progress down the corridor. Of course, none of it would¡¯ve been possible without the aid of Lars Tomasen. The towering sturgeon used the shorter Manusya as a human barrier, keeping himself safe from the electric storm while he focused his attention on the Rumpetrolls. For Zacko had been right. Lars was something of a tadpole-swatting expert. He swung his OAR with reckless abandon, whipping up a veritable storm of his own as he repelled a oncoming swarm of grenades. He even managed to put his passing skills to use, sending Rumpetrolls into each other to trigger more chain reactions. Emboldened by the boys¡¯ bravery, even Serac got in on the action. By then, she¡¯d picked up on a certain ¡®rhythm¡¯ to the waves of lightning, which allowed her to poke her head out and take some pot-shots before ducking back under cover. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was honest work, and in a frenetic, all-out war such as this, every little advantage went a long way. Thus, the bowel of the [Hungry] beast filled with an absolute pandemonium of lightning storms, swinging OAR, flying bullets, and running man. In the end, it was the running man who reached his goal first, diving head-first¡ªliterally¡ªto deliver his trademark Poise-breaker, right into the heart of GIZZARD. [Dreamer Aspect: THE SIXTH DAO¡ªHAMMER OF JUDGMENT] For at least one Ksana, time itself froze, as every element on the battlefield stopped what they were doing, all at once. Then, with a loud and deeply upsetting ¡®squelch!¡¯, GIZZARD ejected from its sphincter the limp figure of Hans Tomasen. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Next, several things happened at once¡ªall too quickly for a REVOLVER-range Serac to react. First, the Wildspawns came alive again, gathering to protect their Poise-broken command center. They bore down first on the apparently unconscious Hans, no doubt having identified him as the easiest target. Second, Lars swept down and picked up the massive figure of his brother in his own massive arms. He then leapt away to safety¡ªback towards Serac and Renate¡ªthreading the needle between the advancing Wildspawns. Last but not least, Zacko slumped to his knees, utterly exhausted (and depleted of Stamina). Who could blame him after the superhuman feat he¡¯d just pulled off? But as he knelt down, he leaned in a little too close to GIZZARD, with his immaculate pompadour brushing against the rim of the newly vacant sphincter. It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment, Mulaharta¡ªor rather its GIZZARD¡ªlay Poise-broken, with an oddly shriveled appearance, almost like a deflated balloon. But next, as a new meal presented itself to its open maw, it snapped back to life, with muscles taut and glistening¡ªand its ring-like sphincter widening into a yawning abyss. Even as Serac struggled to process what she was seeing, she inherently understood one thing. This was not some fluke that defied the ¡®laws¡¯ of Pathsight. Mulaharta hadn¡¯t recovered its Poise in record time. No, its GIZZARD opening and closing over its closest and most vulnerable prey was simply reflex¡ªhard-wired into the synapses that catered to every creature¡¯s basest needs. One moment, Zacko slumped against his Poise-broken foe, exhausted after rescuing a half-digested meal from its clutches. But next, he himself was the meal¡ªthe upper body of a Manusya man who stuck out like a sore, sallow-faced thumb. The transformation was instantaneous. Half-Zacko went limp at the same time as he appeared to grow in size¡ªan illusion brought on by the engorgement of his veins. This was quickly followed by a greenish luminescence¡ªGIZZARD¡¯s Zealous magic burrowing itself into its new fuel source. And then¡­ perhaps the most terrible element. A shift in the ripples that whipped all about. A new voice¡ªa new memory¡ªjoining the chorus of summoning calls. Like my mama always used to say: you are what you eat. ¡°No!¡± Serac finally willed herself into action, clambering over her tooth to start her dive anew¡ªthis time to rescue her friend and partner. But where Zacko¡¯s earlier charge had been bolstered by courage and sound planning, Serac¡¯s was a desperate mess with no clear direction. Even the hand with which she held REVOLVER aloft shook violently, rendering moot any attempt at proper marksmanship. And her progress was soon cut short, not by Mulaharta nor its Wildspawn minions, but by the breadth of Renate¡¯s giant shovel. ¡°Stay back, Rakshasa. This is no time to lose your head.¡± ¡°Get out of my way! Zacko needs me!¡± ¡°Back, I say!¡± With that, Renate hooked her shovel backwards, fishing Serac out of the open and pulling her to her side. And not a moment too soon, for the arena exploded again, not with green, not with lightning¡­ ¡­ But the red of a wrathful Sinner. The shockwave that issued from half-Zacko shook the air¡ªnay, the very Realm itself. The whole of Mulaharta, along with the ¡®taproot¡¯ it occupied, swayed from the eruption of pure, amplified Martial energy. All Wildspawns caught within the impact disintegrated in an instant. At least half the teeth in the corridor fell out from their roots, as they crumbled into pearly-white debris. Amidst the commotion, a trio of Wayfarers (plus one unconscious sibling) somehow held firm¡ªwith their tooth being of the half that had managed to retain some structural integrity. Their survival had come down to Renate¡¯s quick thinking, as well as sheer dumb luck. But even Wayfarers were entitled to the occasional lucky break or two along their rocky Path. In some ways, the boss fight had reverted to its original state: four (give or take one) Wayfarers facing down a magic-stealing Instrument that held one of their friends hostage. But Zacko¡¯s Martial magic clearly had a different edge to it. What it lacked in the electric storm¡¯s spammable crowd control, it made up for with sheer destructive potential. Even now, the green of Zacko¡¯s veins slowly but surely dyed itself red¡ªcharging up for its next nuclear bomb. And that wasn¡¯t all. For the surviving Wildspawns now seeped out from the shadows further below, drawing themselves to the green-red Manusya. Their eager hunger was palpable even from where Serac watched on in horror. To a one, they hungered for a drop of the same power that radiated from Zacko¡ªthat they may rise and take on an ever more fearsome form. ¡°Do it, Finless! Do this now, before it is too late.¡± Serac¡¯s focus boomeranged up and the down the corridor, as she now tried to tune into the debate that raged on beside her. Lars Tomasen still had his brother in his arms, but he now held him out to Renate, presenting him for her attention. Hans still looked to be down for the count, and without GIZZARD¡¯s interference, he looked smaller, paler, and sicker than ever. [HANS TOMASEN Status Effect: POISON (x5)] The maximum stacks of [Poison] still coursed through his sturgeon body, and without GIZZARD¡¯s healing to counteract it, his HP quickly raced to the bottom. ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Lars suddenly shouted, louder than he¡¯d ever been. ¡°I promise you that healing my brother now is our surest Path to victory!¡± Renate hesitated but a Ksana longer. She then wordlessly pulled out a creamy-orange vial from her OYSTER. It was her very last [Pearl of Immersion]¡ªthe one she¡¯d saved for herself. With practiced deftness, she tilted Hans¡¯s head and poured the contents of her [Pearl] into the crack between his parched lips. The man showed no reaction at first, but then he coughed, then sputtered, then opened his eyes wide as the vial emptied. Hans stood with a start, extricating himself from his brother¡¯s grasp. For a second or two, he made his confusion apparent, with his eyes darting from one Wayfarer to another (and widening once more at the sight of a pink tree-frog). But then, just as quickly, he straightened himself and set his face into a glare of cold fury. He readied his BOW-SIDE OAR and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his STROKE-SIDE brother¡ªtwin towers ready to take on the world. Serac watched it all with equal parts incredulity and admiration. For she knew that this was how a Wayfarer ought to conduct themselves¡ªresilient, adaptable, and calm in the face of the unknown. Compared to that, I¡¯m all over the place. Twice already during this caving expedition, I ¡®lost my head¡¯ when I thought Zacko was in danger. I¡¯ve still got a lot to learn, and what better way to do that than watch how the veterans do it? But the fact remained that Zacko was in danger. Or was it more accurate to say that he himself was the danger? In any case, the Wayfaring quartet was back to full strength¡ªthanks to a late-game substitution. And it was time to put their new combination to the test. ¡°Worry not, Rakshasa,¡± Lars said, with his cold glare heating up into a vicious smile. ¡°Co-wielding an Instrument has its advantages and disadvantages. Now, let me and my brother demonstrate what we are truly capable of.¡± 93. Coaster 93. Coaster ¡°I think I see where this is going,¡± Serac thought out loud, wanting to make sure that all four Wayfarers were on the same page. ¡°Zacko¡¯s charging up another massive explosion, and when it goes off again, we won¡¯t have anything to hide behind. We need to Poise-break Mulaharta again before that happens, which should make it spit out Zacko. Then we also need to deal enough damage to finish it off while its healing is disabled. Oh, and one more thing: we should all be careful and try not to become the next GIZZARD food!¡± Now that she¡¯d outlined the plan, it sounded rather convoluted and fraught with potential pitfalls. Not the least of which was¡ª ¡°Before we can do any of that,¡± Renate gave voice to Serac¡¯s concern, ¡°we need a way to safely descend and engage GIZZARD. And that first explosion already took away most of our footholds.¡± ¡°Leave that to us.¡± The Tomasen twins took off, with Lars and his newly recombined Instrument leading the charge. The STROKE-SIDE twin jumped into the open air with nothing to catch his fall. But as soon as he struck COASTER and sent it flying towards his BOW-SIDE brother, a trail of solid ice formed along its path, bridging one end of the corridor to the other. Thus, the twins sculpted their own Path where there was none. They jumped and landed and swung their OARS in perfect sync with each other, as a zigzagging footpath followed in their wake. It took them no time to close the gap on a stationary GIZZARD, and they would¡¯ve topped off the trip with a Lars set-up into a Hans finisher¡­ ¡­ Were it not for a wall of Slangespytts that joined together and stood in their way. A Poison Mat blanketed the entire corridor, thereby blocking any access to GIZZARD. And as Lars let rip his powerful, lightning-charged one-timer, COASTER bounced harmlessly against the Slangespytts¡¯ Zealous-immune barrier. ¡°Leave that to me!¡± Serac jumped into the fray, nearly slipping on ice in her eagerness to make herself useful. But she recovered just in time to aim from a kneeling position, lock onto the center of the Poison Mat, and fire: [Chamber One: CATHARSIS] [235!] The old reliable. Serac¡¯s black flames of Penitence ignited the centermost Slangespytt before spreading rapidly to the peripheries, dealing [190!], [267!], and [535!] points of damage in sequence. By the time the fire died down, it¡¯d burnt a nearly corridor-wide hole in the Poison Mat, surely large enough for the COASTER-wielding twins to attempt another shot¡­ ¡­ Were it not for a squad of Rumpejettes that awaited on the other side. In the time it¡¯d taken for the Wayfarers to make their approach, a swarm of slimy tadpoles had coalesced into several giant aggregates of themselves¡ªfour of them to be exact, one for each Wayfarer. They stood over GIZZARD in a compact formation, ready to defend their command center to the bitter end. Not only that, but they clearly subscribed to the philosophy that aggression was the best defense. For they wasted no time to start lobbing grenades, the source of which were the Rumpetrolls that had served as the giants¡¯ own building blocks. Fresh hell rained up on the Wayfarers in the form of a Tadpole Airstrike. It was all Serac could do to sidestep the ordnances as they came, taking care to stay on ice as she did. Except, of course, the ice too was highly susceptible to the bombardment. The newly constructed bridges fell apart under heavy fire, leaving a Rakshasa gunslinger scrambling for footholds. There was no way for her to fight back, as she instead concentrated on simply staying on her feet. Not only that, but it was a matter of time until she ran out of room. One grenade took out the next ice platform she¡¯d had her eyes on, before a second exploded right on top of her, snapping one of her horns clean off. [395!] The Tadpole Grenade packed a punch! Not just in terms of physical force and Attack Value, but also in its Poise-shredding capability. Pathsight wouldn¡¯t show her the numbers, but Serac could nevertheless feel herself almost faint from the sheer impact, and was forced to take a knee just to steady herself. This is no good. Mulaharta doesn¡¯t even have to wait for Zacko to finish charging up. These Tadpole Giants are more than capable of getting the job done! But not if the Tomasen twins¡ªthe architects of the ice bridges¡ªhad anything to say about it. Under the Rumpejette¡¯s constant barrage, the sturgeons were forced to postpone their boss-smiting ambitions. So, they went right back to construction work. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The oarsmen passed COASTER between each other at a furious pace, all while dodging or batting away the grenades as they came. They made sure to dart all over the arena, generating more icy platforms than the Rumpejettes could destroy. The Tomasens did their part to keep the Wayfarers in the game. Now, it fell upon the two girls to break through and turn the tide of battle. ¡°Renate!¡± Serac called over to the frog woman even as she sidestepped another grenade. ¡°I¡¯ve got a way to make this fight ¡®fairer¡¯, but I need your help. Could you focus on one Rumpejette and almost kill it but not quite?¡± ¡°No guarantees, but I¡¯ll try my best.¡± As it turned out, the Finless¡¯s KL-63 ¡®best¡¯ was nothing short of spectacular. First, she jumped off the ice and to the edge of the arena, where she proceeded to run on the vertical wall. It was the same trick she¡¯d pulled off earlier, made only possible by her bare, webbed feet. She now covered a much longer distance, running past the level of GIZZARD and its quartet of bodyguards. In response, the Rumpejettes shifted their formation, sliding across in unison to cover the angle of Renate¡¯s approach. They¡¯d identified her as the most immediate threat, and showed it by focusing their fire¡ªfour grenades, all hurtling toward one Yaksha. [Auxiliary Technique: ELEMENTAL SURGE] This time, the DREDGED-up ripples belonged to the air itself. The result was a localized hurricane, one that swallowed up all four grenades and sent them spinning above Renate¡¯s head. She then bent at the knees and jumped off the wall, flying high into the air with her shovel poised. If the Tomasen twins were experts at batting Rumpetrolls, then Renate the Finless was an absolute artist at scooping them up and throwing them across the room. Where the frog woman lost to the sturgeons in power, she made up for with precision, ensuring that every one of her counter-grenades landed in the exact same spot. That spot belonged to the Rumpejette on the uppermost edge of the formation¡ªand therefore the one closest to Serac. Which meant Renate even had the presence of mind to pick out the most helpful target! One, two, then three grenades exploded upon the Tadpole Giant in question, taking off just about a quarter of health each time. With the fourth and final grenade, Renate switched targets and flung it into the Rumpejette nearest her, thus declining the sure smite. She¡¯d fully understood the assignment and followed through to perfection, and now, it was up to Serac to execute the rest of the plan. The presently one-horned Rakshasa hadn¡¯t been idle while her frog partner put on a show. She¡¯d been diligently cycling through her chambers (though not every shot had landed), and she¡¯d even remembered to heal her Mana by downing the blue-colored [Pearl of Wisdom] (fizzy and pleasantly tart¡ªdefinitely a step up from [Courage]). And once the Rumpejette¡¯s attention had turned onto Renate, Serac was then able to steady her aim and empty her cylinder into the nearest Rumpejette, whittling its HP bar down to its last fragment. Now, with a full MP, a fresh set of rounds, and an Aberrant at death¡¯s door, the conditions were ripe for: [Chamber One: EMBALMER] [100!] [136!] That was how a freshly ascended Narakite felled her first Wildspawn giant¡ªor rather, turned it into an [Enlisted Husk] for 12 seconds. Her telepathic ¡®instructions¡¯ for her temporary ally couldn¡¯t be simpler: keep your buddies busy! Just like that, a quartet of bodyguards turned into a trio plus one traitor who had unimpeded access to the very thing they¡¯d been trying to protect. The [Enlisted] Rumpejette made every one of its 12 seconds count, first by swiveling in place and swinging a Tadpole¡¯d fist at GIZZARD. It even managed to connect, reducing Mulaharta¡¯s HP by another modest chunk. But that was before its nearest mate tackled it to the ground¡ªjust like, well, a bodyguard might with a would-be assassin. In the ensuing confusion, the other two Rumpejettes sabotaged themselves even further by lobbing grenades in friendly fire. All that meant the Rumpejettes¡¯ attention had turned completely away from the Wayfarers. The defensive formation had broken, exposing parts of GIZZARD to the Wayfarers¡¯ line of sight¡ªstarting with the half-digested meal that stuck out from its sphincter. Serac felt her heart leap to her throat as she took in what had become of Zacko. In the intervening time, the green had almost completely turned over to red. It meant the Manusya¡¯s limp yet engorged body now positively simmered with wrathful Martial energy¡ªa sight made all the more grotesque and terrifying by the laughing Buddha mask that still covered his face. There was no ¡®build-up gauge¡¯ to show just how close Zacko was to full charge, but the reality was plain for all to see. He was at his breaking point. It was only a matter of seconds before he erupted and destroyed everything in sight. But the Tomasen twins hadn¡¯t been idle while the girls helped to clear the way. Perhaps, in a different life, the Wayfarers¡¯ rough-and-tumble tactics might have been penalized for ¡®goalie interference¡¯. But this was the afterlife. And here, the only rule that mattered was the Path every soul blazed for themselves. No, the Tomasens hadn¡¯t been idle. Far from it. For one quirk of their shared magic was that it too could charge up and elevate its damage potential far beyond its base. Without Hans here to activate COASTER, I do not have access to my most destructive spells. Co-wielding an Instrument has its advantages and disadvantages. Every pass between the twins¡ªevery flick of an icy OAR and every swing of its electric sibling¡ªbuilt up the Zealous energy that churned within COASTER. In fact, between all the zigzags and icy bridges, the sturgeon boys had completed a lot of passes in a short amount of time. And now, they concentrated all their pent-up anger, frustration, and zeal for a good fight¡­ as they readied for one last finisher. If Lars was ice, then Hans was lightning. Lars with the pass, Hans with the shot, right into the heart of GIZZARD¡ªand right as the seconds ticked down at the end of the game: [COASTER Spell: BUZZER BEATER] 94. You Are What You Eat 94. You Are What You Eat [MULAHARTA Status Effect: SNAP FREEZE] If only that were the case! What a sight it would¡¯ve been to see the entirety of the taproot-spanning Flesh-fiend frozen solid in a snap. As it stood, however, the size and scale of Mulaharta was such that even the all-seeing Pathsight struggled to accurately represent the reality. What had really happened was that the [Snap Freeze] effect had been localized to one organ¡ªnamely GIZZARD and all its muscles and blood supply. And as its circulation cut off, so too did its hold on a half-eaten Manusya, forcing it to spit Zacko out through its weakened sphincter. This time, the ¡®squelch¡¯ was replaced by something more akin to popping and crackling¡ªlike the fracturing of brittle sheets of ice. This was quickly followed by a whole (and normal-sized) Zacko dropping onto an icy platform with a heavy thud. For one moment, Serac¡¯s concern for her friend overrode her attention on the boss fight. She herself performed a near-vertical drop, sliding down a wall of ice that had been left behind by [Buzzer Beater]. And as she knelt down beside the motionless Manusya, she saw to her horror that the Tomasens¡¯ spell had done a number on Zacko as well. [ZACARIAS BORGES-JUVENTUS Status Effect: SNAP FREEZE] ¡°Oh no!¡± Serac exclaimed, instinctively placing her hands upon his chest and rubbing it vigorously¡ªas if she could melt the ice purely via friction. All that achieved, however, was to give herself frostbite. ¡°Rakshasa! I wouldn¡¯t touch him if I were you.¡± The stern warning came from Renate, who¡¯d hopped down from her platform to land beside Serac. ¡°Look carefully. [Snap Freeze] isn¡¯t the only status effect he¡¯s under.¡± The frog woman was right, of course. For a second line of text now appeared below the first: [ZACARIAS BORGES-JUVENTUS Status Effect: POISON (x5)] ¡°Five stacks of [Poison]?¡± Serac exclaimed, even louder. ¡°But¡­ his HP is still full! Is he still somehow under GIZZARD¡¯s healing effect?¡± ¡°No,¡± Renate said patiently, ¡°it¡¯s simply that he hasn¡¯t got any blood flow, which means the [Poison] has no way to circulate and inflict damage. I¡¯d suggest you leave him as is until we get him somewhere he could be thawed safely. That is, unless you don¡¯t mind him losing out on the Karmic rewards from this fight.¡± Serac was momentarily left speechless, not only by the sheer bizarreness of what Renate had just described, but also because of the frog woman¡¯s thoughtfulness. What a kind way to treat a pair of outrealmers she barely knew¡ªespecially considering they were all competing for the same Karma. And not for the first time, Serac wondered how such a kind soul like the Finless could¡¯ve accrued the notoriety she had. ¡°When you two are finished chatting,¡± Lars cut in from the side, his breath noticeably broken up by exertion, ¡°consider helping us with these.¡± While the girls clucked over Zacko like mother hens, the Tomasen twins had been engaged in a 2v2 with the surviving Rumpejettes. The [Enlisted Husk] had expired, of course, with its 12 seconds having long elapsed, but evidently not before taking one of its mates with it. Once prompted, Serac took to the task with alacrity. Now that she¡¯d been reassured that Zacko was ¡®okay¡¯ (albeit somewhat stretching the definition!), she saw the leftover Wildspawns as a perfect opportunity to hone her Wayfaring skills. She happened to be on Chamber Two with plenty of MP and Satiety to spare. As such, there really was no reason not to try: [Chamber Two: HARVEST] [71!] [RUMPEJETTE Status Effect: EARMARKED] It turned out to be a good bit of practice in the end. With her Satiety gauge hovering at just about the halfway point, Serac found it a little trickier to ¡®attune to her [Hunger]¡¯ like last time. She found this milder form of [Hunger] to be something akin to a light gnawing sensation in her belly¡ªjust a casual reminder to say: hey, maybe it¡¯s time to start thinking about your next meal. In any case, the exercise produced the desired effect: that of converting five points of Satiety into an imbued bullet meant for foraging. With one Rumpejette firmly [Earmarked], Serac eagerly lent the rest of her Cartridges to finishing the job. Four combatants, all of them secure upon their footholds, made short work of the two Rumpejettes. It took the Wayfarers no time to reduce the Tadpole Giants into Souldust as well as a hefty clump of gelatin for Serac to [Harvest]. [770 ?] [1,540 ?] Here, Serac was treated to one of the fiddlier quirks of Pathsight: the dreaded division of Karmic rewards. In this case, she¡¯d shared two smites between four Wayfarers while earning the smiting blow bonus for one of them. It all resulted in a Karma haul that was downright paltry for the Aberrant involved. ¡°This is what happens when Wayfarers share their Paths,¡± Trippy, who up to now had happily watched from the sidelines, didn¡¯t miss his chance to offer a pointed commentary about Serac¡¯s life choices. ¡°Dilution. Erosion. Deemphasizing of individual merit. Call it what you will, but this is the surest way to lose yourself in a faceless multitude.¡± ¡°Oh, shush!¡± Serac was too annoyed to use her inside voice. ¡°Since when did you become such a joykill?¡± ¡°What did you say?¡± this from Lars Tomasen, whose normally impassive eyes had widened in startlement. Oh gods, Serac realized, Lars thinks I just called him a ¡®joykill¡¯, and he looks genuinely hurt about it! The thought of it nearly made her burst out laughing, but she resisted the urge long enough to deadpan, ¡°Nothing. Is Narakite joke. Carry on.¡± And carry on they did. For the Wayfarers still had one job left¡ªthe most important one of them all. And yet, with GIZZARD frozen solid and all the Wildspawns in the vicinity dealt with, this last and most important job also happened to be the easiest. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Thwack! Slam! Bang! The boss¡¯s HP bar melted before the Wayfarer¡¯s eyes, as they each picked a spot on the wall on which to leave their marks. Except these marks never had a chance to be permanent. For as soon as Mulaharta¡¯s health reached zero, its entire structure began to fade into Souldust. ¡°Whoa!¡± Serac stepped back in alarm as the wall she¡¯d been punching with PULVERIZER gave way into open air. It would¡¯ve been tragic indeed if she¡¯d fallen to her death after she¡¯d just finished smiting the biggest Aberrant she¡¯d ever come across. [5,280 ?] 5000? That¡¯s it? Serac¡¯s face fell as she realized that this was the result of division between five Wayfarers¡ªfor the presently unconscious Zacko had also been very much involved in Mulaharta¡¯s smiting. Then, her mood dropped even further as she remembered that Zacko had been looking forward to a fat return of investment on his VISAGE spend. Well, as it stood, he¡¯d lose more Karma than he¡¯d earned, having spent 15,000 ? on [Sinner Aspect] and a few thousand more on [Dreamer]¡­ Throughout all of Serac¡¯s unhappy arithmetic, Trippy¡¯s silence was deafening. ¡°A bit anticlimactic, isn¡¯t it?¡± Serac forced herself to be cheerful as she called over to her fellow Wayfarers. ¡°You¡¯d think a big fight like this would deserve a big finish, but we might¡¯ve been a little too effective setting up the smite. At least all this Souldust is pretty to look at, though.¡± Indeed it was. As an entire arena dissolved into Souldust, it blanketed Serac¡¯s vision with swirling, glittering particles. All those teeth and all that flesh and all that [Hunger]. A Hellspawn worm so gargantuan it filled up one whole root of the Realmtree. And now, it was all gone. All gone, along with its¡ª ¡°Oh no!¡± Serac came to another realization. ¡°What happens once this whole thing is gone? How will we climb our way up?¡± ¡°Worry not, Rakshasa,¡± this from Lars, with his cold glare back in full form. ¡°My brother and I can build footpath in opposite direction. I suggest you bring your climbing boots.¡± This was followed by a pregnant pause, one in which Lars stared at Serac as if waiting for her reaction. As for Serac, she liked the sound of Lars¡¯s plan but didn¡¯t quite know what he wanted from her. In the end, she gave a hesitant thumb-up, to which Lars turned his back immediately, but not before letting slip a look of obvious disappointment. What was that? A Pretjordian joke? Was I supposed to laugh? As it turned out, not all of Mulaharta had disappeared. One broken-off piece of GIZZARD had somehow been spared from Souldust-ification. It fell onto the nearest platform as a barely distinguishable block of pale, frozen meat. Serac bent down to examine it, and was shocked to see a Pathsighted label: [???]. Whoa¡­ is this thing still alive? But no, it doesn¡¯t have a health bar. So then what¡­ What do you think, Trippy? ¡°Just a guess, Wayfarer, but I believe it may be a consumable item. One not even Pathsight has any knowledge of. Not surprising, considering the creature it originated from.¡± Consumable? You mean I¡¯m meant to eat this thing? Serac¡¯s gut reaction was one of revulsion. Perfectly natural, given how little time had passed since the sight of a red-green, engorged Zacko sticking out of GIZZARD¡¯s sphincter. But then¡­ she sat with the notion a while longer, until a new thought formed in her mind. Is it really so strange? Before GIZZARD was a Zealous Instrument, it was just a regular old internal organ. Which basically makes this thing ¡®offal¡¯. Serac paused her pondering to steal furtive glances around her. It was clear that none of the other three Wayfarers had noticed her or the [???] in her hand. The twins were already on bridge-building duty. As for Renate, she busied over Zacko¡¯s [Snap-Frozen] body, lashing him against her back in preparation for the climb. It was a sight to behold: the Manusya¡¯s well-built figure being carried by a diminutive frog woman. Or it might¡¯ve been, had it not been for the giant shovel she already lugged around everywhere. With a silent apology to her fellow Wayfarers, Serac pocketed the [???] before anyone could see her. I hope you¡¯re happy, Trippy, she thought sarcastically. Maybe I¡¯m more selfish than you give me credit for. But the truth was even more straightforward than that. Put simply, Serac was curious. About what effects [???] might produce. About what it would taste like. And when push came to shove, she didn¡¯t want any cooler heads to kibosh her possibly ill-advised culinary adventure. The climb back up to the Waystation took longer than the descent. It was also a lot more pleasant, as far as an acrophobic Rakshasa was concerned. There was no need for her to worry about her footing, as long as she took slow, careful steps on the icy platforms. Occasionally, she looked over at Renate to marvel at her strength and resilience. The Yaksha woman had managed Zacko¡¯s added weight with nary a complaint nor a shift in demeanor. Calm, competent, and purposeful with her every movement. That was the model of Wayfaring Serac wanted to emulate, and Renate the Finless embodied it to perfection. Not to mention she did it all on her bare feet (brrr)! But there were moments during the climb where Renate would stop¡ªnot to complain nor readjust her load¡ªbut to look over her shoulder and down into the depths below. With Mulaharta gone, the ¡®taproot¡¯ had become a bare, dark, and bottomless abyss. Whenever Renate stopped, however, it seemed to Serac that the frog woman could see¡ªnay, read¡ªsomething that yet lurked in the darkness. ¡°What is it?¡± Serac asked on one such occasion, only to be rebuffed with a: ¡°Nothing. Just being vigilant.¡± The Waystation was, of course, exactly where they¡¯d left it, upon an outcrop at the mouth of the taproot. Seeing the pure-white lotus flower amidst the dimness of the cave felt to Serac like coming home. Like an overexcited child, she hopped and skipped ahead of the other Wayfarers, before remembering her manners and waiting for her turn at meditation. In terms of who deserves it most, I¡¯d say Hans first, just for his terrible ordeal as GIZZARD food. Lars second for his construction work. Then Renate for lugging Zacko all this way. If I¡¯m being honest, I probably did the least amount of work, so I¡¯m happy to wait. The Tomasens took their first turn at meditation, as was richly deserved. It didn¡¯t escape Serac¡¯s notice that, this time, Lars sat down without so much as a second glance at Renate. Maybe he was simply too exhausted to remember his beef. In any case, Serac allowed herself a smirk at the sturgeon man¡¯s expense. The girls were paired up again as they waited their turn with the Waystation. Renate went right back to work, laying Zacko down in preparation for the ¡®thawing¡¯. Which, once again, left Serac with a bit of downtime to herself. Suppressing another pang of guilt, she turned her back on Renate with as much casualness as she could muster. She then pulled out [???] and examined its pale, fleshy mysteries anew. ¡°Are you sure about this, Wayfarer?¡± Trippy made a half-hearted attempt at kiboshing Serac¡¯s culinary adventure. ¡°We quite literally have no idea what this thing does. Won¡¯t you at least wait until you¡¯ve reconstituted and leveled up?¡± I might not get a chance then! Serac complained, making sure to use her inside voice. Besides, what¡¯s the worst that can happen? Even if it turns out to be bad, the Waystation is literally right next to me. ¡°¡­ I can imagine many different ¡®worsts¡¯ that can happen. But I¡¯ve also been with you long enough to recognize when you can¡¯t be persuaded. Go ahead, Serac Edin. Have your [???] and eat it too.¡± Trippy was right, of course. Whenever Serac¡¯s mind was on a single track like this, she was very difficult indeed to dislodge. Best just to get it over with, and live with the consequences as they came. Serac popped [???] into her mouth and chewed. To her disappointment, the thing was rather bland, more ice than offal. Perhaps she should¡¯ve waited for it to thaw, or perhaps it lacked a bit of Chef Petey magic. Well, I suppose ¡®bland¡¯ is still preferable to absolutely dis¡ª Then all pretense of being a food critic fled Serac in an instant, as Pathsight informed her of exactly what [???] did: [REVOLVER Spell unlocked] [Chamber Two: APPETIZER] 95. Gather Round the Camp-Lotus 95. Gather ''Round the Camp-Lotus [REVOLVER Spell: APPETIZER] [MP Cost: 3 per second] [Satiety Cost (PRETJORD alternative resource): 1 per second] [Spell Description: Chamber Two imbuement. Channeling spell. REVOLVER¡¯s entire cylinder receives the imbuement effect for the channeling duration, thereby converting all unimbued bullets to Zealous damage type.] *** In what had become a precious commodity on her¡ªfirst day in Pretjord? Second day? She¡¯d completely lost track of time¡ªSerac finally had a chance to relax. Presently, five Wayfarers¡ªall thawed and conscious¡ªmilled about next to the Waystation. The small outcrop was a little too cozy for all of them to take a seat, especially with the sturgeon twins taking up half the space on their own. So, they all ended up standing, which made Serac a tad self-conscious about her relative lack of stature (and grateful to Renate for being even shorter). Zacko, despite being the tallest individual most everywhere he went, was of exactly median size in this particular company. He now made every inch of that height count as he stood with his arms crossed and back straight. With mask off, hair freshly combed, and face settled in his usual sardonic smile, he showed zero signs of having been frozen solid a mere few minutes ago. Once again, Renate the OYSTER-wielder had played a vital role in nursing a party member back to health. She did so with careful titration of [Immersion] alternating with [Courage], keeping a watchful eye over Zacko¡¯s HP bar and physical complexion as she slooowly fed the contents of her Pearls into her patient. Serac had watched it all happen with rapt attention, with her admiration for the Yaksha woman ballooning all the while. She couldn¡¯t help but be curious, however, why Renate couldn¡¯t simply dump the whole thing in and be done with it. To which the potion master explained: ¡°Removing the effects of [Snap Freeze] too quickly would put the Manusya at risk of reperfusion injury, which in his current state could end up dealing him lethal damage. This way, I can give his body the chance to heal itself before all the blood rushes back to his [Oxygen]-deprived tissues. Of course, that also means the [Poison] gets to keep ticking in the meanwhile, but that¡¯s why I¡¯ve got [Courage] on hand to keep his HP topped up.¡± Serac nodded along studiously, having understood almost nothing. Funnily enough, that only made her happier to trust that the frog woman knew what she was doing. Some souls just had that ¡®aura¡¯ about them¡ªand Renate certainly possessed plenty of it. In the end, the trust was well-placed. For Zacko had eventually come to, albeit coughing, disheveled, and shivering from head to toe. And he and Serac had taken their turn at meditation together: two outrealmers under the watchful protection of three local veterans. And what a session it was! Despite having had to share the boss reward with four others, Serac went into her latest meditation with just about the highest Liminal Karma she¡¯d ever had at any one time¡ªsurpassed only by the cache she¡¯d lost to the Bone Lord fight. This was mainly thanks to the swarms upon swarms of Wildspawn adds she¡¯d dispatched, both on the way to Mulaharta and during the boss fight itself. Even with the increasingly steep requirements, a stash of 60,877 ? allowed her to level up five times, bringing her to a respectable KL-38. After much deliberation, she finally took the plunge and put all five points into: [Immanence: 20 -> 25] [PRIMAL Mitigation: 17.6% -> 20.5%] [DEIFIC Mitigation: 28.4% -> 31.3%] [INFERNAL Base AV: 136 -> 144] [ZEALOUS Base AV: 142 -> 155] [DEIFIC Base AV: 145 -> 154] [Satiety Cap: 80 -> 95] Of the three choices within the I-series, [Immanence] made the most sense, given Serac already had access to two of the damage types it buffed. And with her newly learned [Appetizer] spell, she now had an on-demand method to instantly give herself 31 extra points of damage per Cartridge, simply by converting it to Zealous type. I can¡¯t use it in every fight, because some enemies are resistant or even immune to Zealous. But the best thing about [Appetizer] is just how easy it is to activate, especially here in Pretjord where I can just go hungry to make my bullets hit harder. Speaking of¡­ she was surprised to learn that leveling also affected her maximum Satiety value, which was something she¡¯d failed to notice during her last, rushed session. Truth be told, she wasn¡¯t 100% sure how she ought to feel about it. On the surface, raising the ceiling on Satiety seemed like it could only be a good thing. More points for her to spend on her Chamber Two imbuements, and a larger buffer against starvation¡ªas long as she kept herself full with food. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. And therein lay the rub. For she now needed more food to sate her [Hunger], and presumably more and more as she continued to level up. How much was too much? She didn¡¯t know, and hoped she¡¯d never need to find out. Reconstituted (and reunited with her missing horn!), leveled, and relaxed, Serac was ready to enjoy the company of her fellow Wayfarers. It was to the sturgeons that she directed her first question, one she¡¯d been harboring for some time. ¡°Hey, if you guys don¡¯t mind me asking,¡± she started politely, then wasted no time to go direct, ¡°what was all that stuff about returning to your roots? It sounded like you guys really care about Rotgard. Were you from there originally?¡± Lars¡¯s cold glare knotted into a frown as he puzzled over Serac¡¯s words. Surprisingly enough, it was Hans who spoke first, evidently having caught on quicker than his brother. ¡°The Rakshasa refers to Mulaharta¡¯s siren call,¡± he said gruffly, ¡°the one that used our own memories to lure us in.¡± ¡°But how can that be?¡± Lars said, disbelieving. ¡°For Serac Edin to have heard the call, she would need to be a ripple-reader. Unless¡­?¡± Now it was Serac¡¯s turn to frown. How did she read the ripples during that frantic descent, when she couldn¡¯t before nor since? As she puzzled over the mystery that was herself, she felt acutely Renate¡¯s silent yet inquisitive stare. ¡°Princess is just built different,¡± Zacko offered a flippant answer that wouldn¡¯t be far off from what Serac herself could come up with. ¡°You shoulda seen her down in Naraka, taming castles and commanding skeleton armies and shit. I have no clue what you guys are talking about right now, but if it¡¯s something weird and wonderful Serac pulled off, I¡¯ll bet her mysterious third entity had something to do with it.¡± Zacko¡¯s guess was as good as Serac¡¯s, and for all she knew, he might¡¯ve even hit upon the correct answer. But something about this instance of weirdness and wonder had felt different from the previous occasions where the ¡®third entity¡¯ had been involved. For one thing, there¡¯d been no headache nor an extra voice that boomed through her. And there was also the matter of that woman¡ªthe one who spoke to a transplanted Hellspawn with the pet name of ¡®Mully¡¯. The afterlife worked in mysterious ways. Serac could only hope that she¡¯d have the chance to unravel those mysteries before it was all said and done. In any case, the Tomasen twins made no further inquiries, seeming to have taken Zacko at his word. But Renate¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, with her round, unblinking eyes still fixed on Serac. ¡°To answer your question,¡± Lars picked up where he¡¯d left off, ¡°yes. My brother and I are Rotgardians by birth. And our hearts still bleed for the withering of our homeland and the suffering of our fellow Roots-dwellers.¡± At this, Renate finally shifted her attention, only to scoff at the sturgeon man. ¡°You lost your claim to the Roots the moment you cast your lot with the leeches up on the Trunk,¡± the frog woman spat, with a startling amount of heat behind her words. ¡°And that goes double for you and your brother: loyal hounds to the fattest, most rapacious of the leeches.¡± Serac couldn¡¯t help but suck in a sharp breath and hold it. Across from her, Zacko¡¯s smile broadened in amusement. Oh no, not this again, Serac thought. We were just starting to get along! To Serac¡¯s surprise and tentative relief however, Renate¡¯s fighting words didn¡¯t trigger more fisticuffs. Both of the Tomasen twins tensed, to be sure, and their glares darkened¡ªbut not in anger. Rather, the expression was one of guilt and perhaps even shame. ¡°We do not deny it,¡± Lars said, continuing his role as spokes-twin. ¡°We are Rotgardians by birth, but Stamgardians by profession. It was not a choice made lightly, but a choice nonetheless. Our own.¡± An uneasy silence followed, but it was much preferable to Wayfarer-on-Wayfarer violence. Serac gave it some time before she deemed the coast clear, then ventured a follow-up question. ¡°May I ask why?¡± She tried her darnedest to keep her tone neutral and judgment-free. ¡°Why do you work for Mr Catfish¡­ when you clearly don¡¯t have a high opinion of him?¡± ¡°I do not know how things work in Naraka,¡± Hans jumped in, ¡°but here in Pretjord, which part of the Realmtree you were born in determines your station in life. As children of the Roots, Lars and I have no hope of being accepted into the Kronvakt.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Lars continued. ¡°Say what you will, but Palmr Jorgensen is shrewd businessman. His wealth and status allow him kind of power that Wayfarers can only dream of. Most importantly, he has King Tyr¡¯s favor, which is only reason he is even allowed to hire Wayfarers outside Kronvakt jurisdictions. Only reason Hans and I have work.¡± ¡°I¡¯m starting to get the picture,¡± Zacko cut in, still wearing his irreverent¡ªalmost mocking¡ªsmile. ¡°The rules and regulations here are tighter than a nun¡¯s bumhole. The only way a pair of Wayfarers from the Roots could find work¡ªand with it, the means to put food on the table and farm Karma¡ªis to sell your soul to some shady businessman who has an in with the king. That about sum it up?¡± The twins¡¯ silence spoke volumes. It seemed to suggest that there were no holes to poke in Zacko¡¯s summation, but Serac of all people wasn¡¯t so convinced. ¡°But¡­ that¡¯s not totally true, is it?¡± she asked, utterly sincere where Zacko had dripped with sarcasm. ¡°At least there¡¯s one exception to that rule. We¡¯re looking at her right now.¡± With that, all eyes turned to Renate, who then chose this moment to point her gaze to the ground. It was the universal signal for: don¡¯t look at me; I have nothing to add to this conversation. ¡°I concede that Finless is curious case,¡± Lars said with a thoughtful glare. ¡°All these years, we have been led to believe that she was behind ecological collapse that left all of Rotgard barren wasteland¡ªbehind Wildspawn activity that terrorized Yaksha population. But¡­ that evidently had been lie. Perhaps not deliberate one, but lie nonetheless. I ask you then, Finless. Why lurk in shadows? Why not come into open where you could clear your name and put your considerable powers to good instead of thieving and smuggling?¡± All eyes stayed on Renate, waiting for an answer. Serac too wanted dearly for the frog woman to speak and offer a clean explanation, but¡­ by now, she¡¯d been in this business long enough to sense that this was a situation that was anything but clean. Predictably enough, Renate stayed silent, round eyes downcast. She kept her reasons for both her silence and her loner lifestyle close to her chest. But soon, she looked up again as something else caught her attention. The Tomasen twins also stirred at the same time. Hans was closest to the edge of the outcrop, and he now leaned over slightly to peer down into the abyss below. ¡°The ripples again?¡± Serac asked, knowing the drill by now. ¡°Yes,¡± Hans said simply, then continued to read, with his scales vibrating in intense concentration. And then¡ª ¡°We have to move,¡± Renate finally did speak, not to dig into her past, but to warn of a present and pressing danger. ¡°What? What is it?¡± ¡°Rising water,¡± the frog woman said, voice tense with alarm. ¡°Rising fast. We have to climb out of this cave now, or we¡¯d all be flooded¡ªalong with the Waystation we¡¯re tethered to.¡± 96. Fresh Air Redux 96. Fresh Air Redux Whether or not her boots were made for the job, Serac had to climb, and climb fast. The Tomasen twins led the charge, COASTER-bridging the cave¡¯s natural platforms with ice. Renate pattered along with ease on her bare feet, and even Zacko adapted to the new pace in no time. It soon became clear that Serac was the straggler. She didn¡¯t know if it was due to a Rakshasa¡¯s less-than-nimble anatomy or just her own general lack of strength and athleticism. Whatever it was, something was holding her back, and she fell farther and farther behind, even as her fellow Wayfarers sped on ahead. At some point, she could hear the rush of water, with or without the ability to read the ripples. The sound brought with it the fresh and terrifying memories of her near-drowning episodes¡ªand fear made her trip and stumble over her feet, slowing her even more. Just when her panic was about to reach a breaking point, the pink figure of Renate descended to her side. The Yaksha woman had doubled back despite her considerable lead, and she promptly scooped Serac up onto DREDGER¡¯s blade, without a word of warning or instruction. It happened so suddenly that Serac had no chance to adopt a hang-on-for-dear-life position. Instead, she ended up sitting cross-legged atop the giant shovel, looking for all the world like she was settling in for meditation. Even with the extra load, Renate moved up the icy slopes far faster than Serac by herself could¡¯ve. All the while, she kept the point of DREDGER remarkably stable, making her passenger feel as though she was sitting on solid ground. And yet, while panic receded, embarrassment took its place. After everything the frog woman had done for her, Serac couldn¡¯t believe that she still needed more help. What happened to her can-do attitude? Her Rakshasa resiliency? If she made it back to the surface in one piece, she¡¯d have to have a long look at herself in the mirror. Clearly, her ¡®Path¡¯ had to be about more than just shooting problems in the face. But she was also pragmatic enough to accept the free ride when she needed one. It gave her a chance, not only to reflect on her own shortcomings and areas for improvement, but also to wonder aloud: ¡°Do you think this water has anything to do with us getting rid of Mulaharta?¡± ¡°Almost definitely,¡± came Renate¡¯s swift reply, only marginally broken up by her breathing. ¡°Typically speaking, the Realm-tree contains within it an inner reservoir of water, in constant network with the Sanzu and its many branches upon the surface. The hollowed-out appearance of this cave seemed to suggest that reservoir had long dried up¡­ but perhaps instead, it¡¯d only been pushed down by Mulaharta¡¯s presence and magic. With Mulaharta gone, it¡¯s like a pressure valve has been released. The water is rushing to reclaim all this empty space.¡± Serac frowned in concentration, squeezing out every bit of her imagination to understand this latest of fluid-based analogies. ¡°If the water is just refilling itself¡­ shouldn¡¯t it eventually top off? Assuming there¡¯s more cave than there¡¯s water?¡± ¡°Theoretically, yes. But none of us know just how much water there is, nor if we¡¯d be able to find our way out of this cave before the water could reach us.¡± Serac shuddered at the thought. She then fell silent, the better to allow her scooper-upper to concentrate more on climbing than to entertain a hell bumpkin¡¯s inquiring mind. The Wayfarers climbed and climbed, slowing only to keep themselves Stamina-replete. But this latest race only served to show just how far and deep into the Roots they¡¯d spelunked in the first place. The water caught up to them before they could find the exit. And all of the Tomasens¡¯ building, Zacko¡¯s running, and Renate¡¯s Serac-carrying proved to be for naught, as their efforts were drowned out by a sheer force of nature. Serac had thought herself ready, having heard then seen the water rise and lap at the Wayfarers¡¯ feet. But no amount of mental preparation could overcome the terrors she now associated with the frigid touch and immense pressure of a watery prison. [Wayfarer Status Effect: HYPOXIA] Almost immediately, her panic kicked back into full gear. But this time, before Serac could devolve into a flailing kicking mess, a pink, webbed hand grabbed her firmly by the wrist. Renate had reslung DREDGER onto her back. In her free hand, she held the creamy-orange [Pearl of Immersion], which she proceeded to push into Serac¡¯s face. The Rakshasa understood the assignment, but that didn¡¯t stop her from shaking in terror as she forced herself to imbibe more liquid inside her liquid prison. It was tough going at first, and more than once, she nearly coughed out the precious potion, but as she emptied the [Pearl], an odd sense of calm took over. Indeed, she now had the presence of mind to note the light-green bar of her [Oxygen] gauge, one that halted its rapid descent as soon as Serac had finished Renate¡¯s potion. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. On paper, [Immersion]¡¯s passive effect was to buff a Wayfarer¡¯s status mitigation. In reality, and especially for a novice swimmer like Serac, it did much more than that. The hourglass slowed to a crawl, and the simple knowledge that she had more time afforded her the mental clarity needed to understand what was required of her. In this case, ironically enough, it was to rely on the kindness of others. Instead of trying and failing to swim, Serac kept herself still, even as Renate left her side. She began to sink, as her dense-boned Rakshasa body was wont to do, but not for long, as the massive figure of Lars Tomasen swept in to grab her by the waist. Secure in the arm of a much stronger swimmer, Serac allowed herself to relax further and reassess the situation. She opened her eyes against the frigid water, and was rewarded for her courage with a surprisingly clear view of her surroundings. The water was murky and full of debris, but strangely enough, its presence had also caused the Realm-cave¡¯s walls to glow a brighter Zealous green. The two outrealmers were each paired off with a local and carried up the flooded cave¡ªSerac with Lars and Zacko with Hans. Meanwhile, the pink figure of Renate darted from Wayfarer to Wayfarer, feeding each of them a [Pearl of Immersion]. That¡¯s already four [Immersion]s in her latest OYSTER loadout, Serac did the math calmly. Almost like she knew or at least suspected we¡¯d need it again. I wonder if she has a fifth one for herself? The answer, as it turned out, was no. The frog woman never stopped to give herself a taste of her own medicine, even as she charged ahead of the pack with smooth, powerful kicks of her webbed feet. This was the first time Serac had seen Renate swim, and she was once again taken by the frog woman¡¯s competence and beauty. Finless or no, Renate belonged in the water, with her graceful movements blending seamlessly with the turbulence all around her. But then again¡­ she also did plenty fine for herself on land. The Yakshas now swam in a spiral pattern, hugging the cave walls as they searched for an exit. As for Serac, she accepted her limitations and gave into the process, only occasionally checking on her [Oxygen] gauge with an almost detached sort of curiosity. She was oddly confident in her Yaksha friends¡¯ ability to pull them through this mess, just as she¡¯d been about Renate plying her expertise on a [Snap-frozen] Zacko. There would be time yet for Serac to build on her own competence and self-reliance, but for now, she was happy to accept a free ride when she needed one. After all, the Yakshas¡¯ willingness to help her in the first place was proof enough of her value in their estimation. Pay your dues and show your worth. No one in this Realm eats for free. Perhaps this wasn¡¯t quite what Palmr Jorgensen had in mind when he¡¯d said those words. But he couldn¡¯t have dreamed of the strange adventure the Wayfarers would end up having, nor the many different ways each of them showed their worth along way. Eventually, Renate became the first to stop the search, having no doubt read an open channel of ripples along the walls. She turned around and gestured toward the Tomasen twins with both palms out¡ªthe universal signal for: back off. [Auxiliary Technique: ELEMENTAL SURGE] A swing of a giant shovel. A vortex of water, mud, and tree bark. The edges of the open channel collapsed, until it widened enough for even big sturgeon boys to pass through. Fresh air never tasted sweeter¡ªnot even when Serac had climbed out of a prison in hell. The Wayfarers found themselves in the middle of a wide river¡ªfilled to the banks and rushing at speed. Somewhere in Stamgard, then? Or could it be¡­? Serac forced herself to remain patient for a while longer, as Lars cut across the width of the river. Once she was ashore, however, relief washed over her in an instant, causing her to tremble and nearly tear up with its sheer force. It seemed she¡¯d been a lot more nervous than she¡¯d let on (even to herself). Released from Lars¡¯s hold, she turned onto her back and spread herself wide, using as much surface area as possible to relish the contact with solid ground and outside air. Once she¡¯d had her fill of coming back up to earth, she sat up, hoping to share her joy with her newest friends. She turned her ear-to-ear smile first onto Lars¡ªkneeling and panting as he finally allowed himself a moment of respite. To the brother Hans, just as exhausted but also just as alive. Then to Zacko, who¡¯d already started wringing out his soaking wet hair (the man sure had his priorities straight!). And finally to¡ª ¡°Wait, where¡¯s Renate?¡± Both of the sturgeons bounced up to their feet at once, with their hands instinctively reaching for their OARs. They stood at the edge of the riverbank and scanned up- and downstream, with their scales vibrating visibly all the while. Then, as if in unspoken agreement, Hans dove back into the water while his brother continued his ¡®read¡¯ on shore. A tense silence followed. Serac waited anxiously for one of the twins to say something¡ªor for Renate herself to jump out of the water, or perhaps poke her hooded head out from one of the rocks behind them. In the end, one figure did emerge from the water, but it belonged to Hans. He calmly glided over and lifted himself ashore, apparently in no hurry to share his findings. ¡°Anything?¡± Lars asked, wearing a cold glare to hide his own agitation. His brother shook his head. At first, Serac couldn¡¯t quite process what it all meant. Did they somehow get separated from Renate? Had the frog woman been caught in some strong current that had carried her away? Or worse yet, was she still stuck inside the Realm-cave by herself? And if so, did she need rescuing? But then a loud ¡®crack!¡¯ beside her made her jump, at the same time bringing her back down to earth and reality. The noise had been courtesy of Lars Tomasen, having slammed his OAR into the ground. ¡°Finless is gone,¡± he said, gentle voice brought low by anger and self-reproach, ¡°run away, as she always does. We were so close. We had her, then we let our guard down. Let her slip away and back into shadows.¡± 97. Welcome to Rotgard 97. Welcome to Rotgard Just when Serac had thought her little Wayfaring party might grow into a quintet, it disbanded itself without warning. First with the unannounced departure of Renate, followed by the Tomasen twins running off in ¡®pursuit¡¯. ¡°This here is Rotgard.¡± Lars at least had the decency to offer a hasty explanation. The news didn¡¯t necessarily come as a surprise to Serac, who¡¯d already taken note of the barren landscape around them. As for the freshly refilled river, no doubt it was directly connected to the phenomenon they¡¯d all just witnessed inside the Realm-cave. Lars went on, ¡°My brother and I must travel upstream. Go back to Town Market. I suspect Finless will target Jorgen & Sons in our absence.¡± ¡°Should Zacko and I come with?¡± Serac asked numbly, for want of a more obvious choice. ¡°Technically, we¡¯re still on a ¡®job¡¯ to capture the Finless, aren¡¯t we?¡± That was when Serac suddenly remembered why she and Zacko had been recruited in the first place. Palmr Jorgensen had identified them as ¡®unknown quantities¡¯, a pair of rookies who had the element of surprise on their KL-60+ superior. Well, so much for that surprise. In their combined efforts to smite Mulaharta, Wayfarers both new and old had bared all. When (if) they next met, Renate would know exactly what to look out for. At Serac¡¯s question, Lars at least had the decency to hesitate¡ªbut only briefly. ¡°No,¡± he said, even as he passed COASTER to Hans to make new ice on the river. ¡°You will only slow us down. Oh, and before I forget, this is yours.¡± With that, Lars tossed Serac a jute-woven pouch that had been tied around his belt. Serac caught it, nearly losing her balance from the sheer weight of the thing. And no wonder, for it contained all the gelatinous goo she¡¯d [Harvested] from cave-dwelling Wildspawns, some of which had come from a giant tadpole monster. Before Serac could thank them, both sturgeons hopped onto the block of ice, conveniently turtle-shell-sized. They then began to make quick, short COASTER passes between themselves¡ªSTROKE-SIDE to BOW-SIDE then back again. After several repetitions of this, it became clear that at least the Tomasen twins had one more trick up their sleeve: [COASTER Spell: BREAKAWAY] The block of ice¡ªwith the sturgeons on it¡ªzoomed up the river with a burst of speed. It mattered not how fast the river was flowing in the opposite direction, for the twins had generated their own localized dynamo to propel themselves upstream. Faster than a gawking Rakshasa could ask ¡®how did you do that?¡¯, the Tomasens disappeared into the distance. Which left Serac and Zacko all by themselves with no local supervision. They¡¯d ascended as a duo, and it seemed they¡¯d continue as a duo¡ªat least for now. It took Serac a while to come to terms with the abrupt lack of direction. ¡°Should we follow them?¡± she asked aloud, but was happy for either one of Zacko or Trippy to chime in. ¡°I mean, now that we¡¯re out in the field, we could summon Ash and see if our castle¡¯s any good at climbing trees.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go along with whatever you decide, princess,¡± Zacko said breezily, showing none of Serac¡¯s concern. ¡°But I just wanted to remind you. We¡¯re still under that ¡®moratorium¡¯ thing that prohibits us from foraging, and right now, we just happen to be on our own with no one to watch us. That was supposed to be the twins¡¯ job, but they¡¯ve obviously decided that going after Bubblegum is more important.¡± ¡°Good point,¡± Serac said with a nod, readily seeing the value of their accidental freedom. She then wondered how they might put that freedom to use, and the first thing that came to mind was: ¡°I¡¯m also really curious about this here Rotgard. We¡¯ve heard so much about it, and there¡¯s obviously something strange going on here that can¡¯t all be explained by Mulaharta. The soldiers. The lies about Renate. I want some answers, and I want to find them for myself.¡± ¡°I thought you might say that,¡± Zacko said, albeit this time with a small sigh. ¡°But I also want to remind you of this. We¡¯ve had a loooong day, and I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯m just about ready for some sleep. At the very least a nap.¡± Only then did Serac¡¯s attention turn to the ambient lighting. The Wayfarers had originally departed for their ¡®mission¡¯ at around midday. Now, the sun had just peeked out over some hills in the distance, thus brightening what had been a forest-green sky into something a little more closer to seafoam. Serac didn¡¯t need to be Pretjordian to know that this was the dawn of a new day. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she murmured weakly, marveling at just how long they¡¯d spent stuck inside the Realm-cave. ¡°Okay, how about this? We do some light exploration and foraging, and once we¡¯ve managed to top up our [Satiety] a bit, we find somewhere quiet to rest.¡± ¡°What about the stuff you got in that bag?¡± Serac opened the jute-woven pouch, then nearly gagged from the smell. While the bag was soaking wet, its contents had remained more or less dry. That didn¡¯t stop the Rumpe-goop from assaulting the senses with an acrid mixture of dried blood and¡ªwas that gunpowder? ¡°If you wanna try this thing raw, be my guest,¡± she spoke through a pinched nose. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Zacko leaned in, took one look at the contents of the bag, then said, ¡°On second thought, a foraging run sounds like a good idea. Looks like it¡¯ll be slim pickings around these parts, but even berries or some such would be preferable to whatever that is.¡± ¡°If I might make a suggestion, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy did chime in then, ¡°consider familiarizing yourself with the skill of cooking. That way, as long as you have the raw ingredients, you¡¯ll always have a source of [Satiety] at hand. Not now, of course, but something to work into your plans. As long as you¡¯re in Pretjord, I¡¯m sure this won¡¯t be the last time this would come up.¡± Serac couldn¡¯t rightly argue with that. She made a mental note, adding ¡®cooking¡¯ to her growing self-improvement checklist. And with that, she and Zacko were off on their foraging run. Contrary to Zacko¡¯s hopes, Rotgard¡ªat least this portion of it¡ªoffered very little in the way of ¡®berries or some such¡¯. Despite the raging river the Wayfarers had washed up on, the surrounding terrain was arid, rocky, and lifeless, with its sparse vegetation amounting to nothing more than prickly bushes that barely reached Serac¡¯s knees. The place lacked not only for nature and wildlife, but also for sentience¡ªwith no sign of civilization nor another living soul for as far as the eye could see. It was a far cry from the lush greenery and bustling activity of Stamgard¡¯s Town Market, so much so it beggared belief that the two locales belonged to the same Realm. In fact, the closest reference point Serac had to compare with were the rugged Badlands of Naraka she, Zacko, and Ash had braved once upon a rescue mission. Minus the [Ossify] clouds (yay), but with the added, constant reminder of [Hunger] in the background (boo). What a busy day I¡¯ve had, Serac reflected absent-mindedly. A near drowning. A wolf hunt in the forest. Haggling over quest rewards with an unscrupulous businessman. A turtle ride down the river. A cave expedition. A boss fight in a team of five. And now this¡­ back to wandering a hellish wasteland. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Hm. Sounds like something Zacko¡¯s mama might say¡­ Speaking of Zacko, the man was starting to show clear signs of distress. It was he who¡¯d first complained of fatigue, and despite his outwardly breezy demeanor, a noticeable edge now crept into his voice as he complained some more. ¡°Shit, this place really is the pits, just like the Yakshas said. Don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be finding anything edible anytime soon, and I won¡¯t lie, I¡¯m starting to worry about my [Satiety] gauge again. Faster metabolism and whatnot. Do you think¡­ maybe we ought to book it back to the Town Market? See if we can¡¯t mooch some food off a kind soul or two?¡± Serac made a face, one made up of a mixture of emotions. Partly, she worried about Zacko¡¯s state of [Hunger], desperate as she was to avoid another starvation scare. But an admittedly even bigger part of her felt nothing but distaste for the idea of crawling back to Palmr Jorgensen empty-handed and begging for a handout. ¡°Let¡¯s just go a bit further, shall we?¡± she said with forced optimism. ¡°Maybe over them yonder hills is a forest with more wildlife for us to hunt?¡± ¡°If this is going to take much longer, Wayfarer,¡± Trippy came in with another suggestion, ¡°you should consider setting down a Waystation. Remember, the one you¡¯re tethered to right now is flooded and gods know how many hundred feet under the ground. If anything were to happen to you right now, you¡¯d need a safer, drier place to reconstitute.¡± Serac couldn¡¯t rightly argue with that. Indeed, it was a small wonder she hadn¡¯t thought of it herself. She was also reminded of the fact that she still had just the one charge of Waystation [Privilege]. In the free-for-all that had ended the Mulaharta fight, it¡¯d been difficult to tell which Wayfarer had received the smiting blow bonus, but it evidently hadn¡¯t been her. She ought to put down a Waystation and soon, like Trippy said. But surely, there was a better place to do so than here, in the middle of a barren nowhere. Perhaps, over those yonder hills, they could find a nice, private nook or grotto to settle in? Gods, she certainly was placing a lot of hopes and dreams on those yonder hills. And as Serac stared into the hopeful distance, she became aware of a sound that belonged to neither her nor Zacko. It began first as a distant rumble, originating from somewhere beyond those yonder hills. It seemed to travel through the very earth, like the locomotive vibrations of something large or perhaps many. Serac¡¯s closest reference point was the irrepressible march of Ashvanaga, her very own mobile fortress. And while she couldn¡¯t picture a blood-stained stone castle rumbling through the Roots of the Realmtree, she also couldn¡¯t outright discount the possibility. After all, it¡¯d only been a mere few hours ago that she¡¯d had her first boss encounter in Pretjord against an ¡®ascended¡¯ Hellspawn. But as the sound grew louder and visible shapes emerged from atop the hills, Serac was soon reminded that reality was often much stranger than anything her imagination could conjure up. A group of Yakshas¡ªat least several dozens of them at a glance. They sped towards the outrealmers en masse, with every individual riding on turtle¡ªno, tortoise-back. Large, wrinkly creatures with bumpy scales, saddled shells, and dour eyes. Even a hell bumpkin like Serac ¡®knew¡¯ that tortoises were meant to be slow and heavy in their movements. But not so, this Pretjordian lot. Their wide-set quadrupedal legs waddled and shuffled with impressive agility, kicking up dust and tree bark debris as they carried their Yaksha riders across the bare terrain. The riders themselves were distinctive in their appearance¡ªand instantly recognizable. For Serac had already seen a few of them yesterday, on her way down the rivers. One-piece suits covering collars to ankles, dyed in various camouflage patterns. Slender harpoon guns slung over every man¡¯s shoulder. These were soldiers. They were coming for Serac and Zacko. And they didn¡¯t come bearing gifts, from the looks of it. Guess I need to start a new list for Day 2. Serac thought absent-mindedly, a little too taken aback to be truly alarmed. ¡®Surrounded by gun-toting soldiers¡¯ sounds as good a bucket-list item as any. The soldiers and their tortoises did surround the Wayfarers now, in an evenly spaced formation and with coordinated movement. Up close, the Yakshas¡¯ varied ¡®typings¡¯ were plain to see, with everything from salmons to halibuts to even a mackerel or two. But no matter the colors of their scales nor the shapes of their dorsal fins, they all joined in the same gesture now, readying and aiming their harpoons in unison. One soldier among them, a stout sea bass with facial scars who was clearly the ¡®grizzled veteran¡¯ of the group, now spoke with practiced authority. ¡°You are trespassing on restricted land. State your business in Rotgard, outrealmers, and do not dally nor prevaricate, if you wish to walk out of here on your own two feet.¡± 98. [INTERLUDE] Hide and Seek 98. [INTERLUDE] Hide and Seek The sun had just peeked over the Roots of the Realmtree, brightening a forest-green sky into seafoam. The hour was just early enough that most of the busybodies who lived on the Trunk would still be in bed. Normally, Renate Sandvik didn¡¯t like to rob people when they were asleep. Not out of some pretentious moral, but simply because asleep was also when souls were at their least trusting¡ªand therefore the most defensive. Vendors would invariably lock up their wares once the trading day was over. If they had keys, they¡¯d keep them hidden or close to their chests. Stammers could imagine the Finless as some shadowy phantom all they wished, but in reality, Renate Sandvik was as corporeal and subject to the laws of ripples as any other Yaksha. She had neither the skills nor the inclination to sneak into people¡¯s houses, which was why she committed all of her thefts in broad daylight. For when it really came down to it, hers was a game of hide-and-seek¡ªexcept in her case, she was both the hider and the seeker. The routine was nearly always the same. Pick a vantage point from which to hide, read, and observe, waiting for the moment when the mark let their guard down¡ªa crack in the defense. That was when she turned seeker, swooping in unseen, unheard, and unread to snatch the goods, using DREDGER as an extension of herself if necessary. For her approach to work, she needed the Stammers¡¯ caution and awareness of her to ebb. Which was why she always waited at least several weeks in between jobs. Why she¡¯d never hit the same mark twice in a row. And why she¡¯d certainly never try anything while the whole town was in an uproar over the once-in-a-lifetime arrival of ascended outrealmers. All that to say¡­ she was breaking all of her own rules to do this latest job. Palmr Jorgensen lived and shat where he worked and ate. Which was to say his general store, Jorgen & Sons, doubled as the home in which he kept his wares locked up overnight. As the sun made its slow progress across a seafoam sky, it shone upon the tree hollows that served as the storefront, presently all boarded up before the start of the trading day. Renate had neither the skill nor the inclination to sneak into people¡¯s houses. And on this occasion, she also lacked for time. As such, she settled for the only way she knew how to break down doors, knowing full well it¡¯d instantly wake the house¡¯s occupant. [Auxiliary Technique: ELEMENTAL SURGE] One of the heavy doors disintegrated into splinters and sawdust. Renate had taken care to aim the [Surge] skyward, meaning most of the debris ended up hitting the ceiling instead of flying further into the building where they could hurt someone. Not that she much cared about Palmr Jorgensen¡¯s well-being, but she still might need him for information. The man himself was slumped against a table in the back¡ªthe very same corner where he took his meals every day and oversaw the goings-on of his business. Despite her urgency, Renate felt a twinge of disgust at the sight. When she¡¯d mused that Palmr shat where he ate, she hadn¡¯t meant it quite this literally. In any case, the catfish man did wake at the loud intrusion, with the many rolls upon his corpulent body bouncing grotesquely as he rose to his feet. While Palmr¡¯s frame wasn¡¯t quite as large as those of his sturgeon bodyguards, it was still enough to dwarf a diminutive tree-frog twice over. Indeed, he seemed to fill the very room with his presence as he grinned down his whiskers at Renate. ¡°Finless. To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± Palmr enunciated his words clearly, showing no signs of lingering sleep. Either the man was a true professional, or he¡¯d been more awake than he¡¯d first let on. On any other day, that observation alone might¡¯ve been enough to spook Renate, but right now, she was in too deep. ¡°You already know what I¡¯m after,¡± she said, doing away with pleasantries altogether. ¡°Your box of the Realmtree Dew. Hand it over.¡± ¡°Of course. You know I¡¯m always up for a trade.¡± Palmr, still smiling, didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°And may I commend you on your expensive tastes? By today¡¯s exchange rates, a whole box would run you¡­ oh, say, 212 shards of dragon-blood resin? Or 37,356 acorns, if you¡¯d prefer a more¡­ granular mode of payment.¡± Renate had seen, heard, and read enough of the man to know that those figures hadn¡¯t been pulled out of his ample backside. He really had calculated them on the spot¡ªa feat most Wayfarers couldn¡¯t hope to emulate. Palmr Jorgensen¡¯s head for numbers was one of multiple reasons he¡¯d climbed to such a position of power despite being an Anchored soul. But Renate also possessed power¡ªone of a more primitive nature, and therefore easier for all parties to understand. She raised DREDGER and pointed the edge of its blade into the catfish¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯m not here to haggle,¡± she said, herself maintaining her calm demeanor. ¡°Hand it over this instant, or the last thing you taste in this life will be my iron.¡± Palmr¡¯s smile never faltered. ¡°Are you sure about this, miss?¡± he asked with mock concern. ¡°Far be it for me to question the Path of a seasoned Wayfarer, but¡­ aren¡¯t there forces in the afterlife that frown upon and punish the senseless killing of innocent souls?¡± You? Innocent? Renate wanted to spit, but she instead forced herself to say, ¡°I¡¯m well aware. Killing you would indeed run me afoul of said forces, but that¡¯s a price I¡¯d happily pay. The box. Now.¡± Still, the catfish continued to smile. In fact, he took it a step further and chuckled, letting his whiskers sway languidly as he did. ¡°So, you¡¯re not afraid of the gods that watch from the heavens. But what about a king, a queen, an army¡­ right here in our very own Realm? I¡¯m not one to blow my own bubbles, but I do have some friends in high places. If King Tyr has been tolerating your antics up to now, Finless, he certainly won¡¯t be, once you¡¯ve struck down his favorite supplier.¡± If Palmr didn¡¯t falter in his blas¨¦ attitude, neither did Renate in her threatening posture. ¡°I thank you for your concern,¡± she deadpanned. ¡°But you¡¯ll have nothing to worry about once you¡¯re dead. You think I¡¯m afraid of being hunted by King Tyr and his precious Kronvakt? Why should I be? When the whole Realm already is against me? Now, quit stalling and show me to your wares. If the next word out of your mouth isn¡¯t a ¡®yes¡¯, I¡¯ll shut it for you, and for good.¡± For the first time, the ¡®negotiation¡¯ ground to halt, as both parties stared each other down. Direct violence against the prospect of royal retribution. What happened next came down to exactly how convincing Renate had been when she¡¯d dismissed Palmr¡¯s threat as no threat at all. And that was when Renate suddenly saw the fatal flaw in her not-much-of-a-plan. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. What would happen if Palmr called her bluff? Could she do it? Strike down an Anchored soul in cold blood? She¡¯d already helped many an Anchored soul pass on in [Serenity], each time incurring a Karma penalty. But she now realized that and the kind of violence she intended now were two completely different beasts. Did she really have it in her to mete out the final judgment unto a fellow Yaksha¡ªeven one as vile and mean-spirited as a Palmr Jorgensen? It¡¯s not a question of ¡®can¡¯. She tried to steel herself. I must do it. Simple as that. Inge is counting on me, and I¡¯ve already lost so much time. If the next word out of the catfish¡¯s mouth isn¡¯t a ¡®yes¡¯, then I must¡ª ¡°I believe you.¡± ¡°What?¡± Palmr¡¯s unexpected response had rendered Renate momentarily unable to react. Not quite a ¡®yes¡¯, but it also sounded very different to a ¡®no¡¯. Not only that, but the man had stopped smiling, instead putting on a solemn gaze that he reserved for the most serious of trades. ¡°I said I believe you when you say you¡¯re willing to take on the whole Realm by yourself. And I¡¯m man enough to admit I value my own life over my products, no matter how expensive they might be. The Realmtree Dew, was it? Won¡¯t be a moment.¡± With that, Palmr strode over to the store¡¯s counter, leaving Renate to ponder his words. He believes that I¡¯m willing to take on the whole Realm. But did he believe that I was willing to ¡®smite¡¯ an Anchored soul for that to happen? Slowly, uncertainly, Renate lowered DREDGER and reslung it across her back. She watched quietly as the most powerful businessman in all of Pretjord bent over a safe, with a keychain dangling from between the rolls of his chin. Locked up wares and keys kept close to the chest. At least on that count, Renate hadn¡¯t been wrong. As Palmr set down the goods, he also played the part of a dutiful vendor, opening the box for his customer¡¯s inspection. Rows of glass vials, all half-filled with the same lurid-green liquid¡ªfreshly squeezed and neatly bottled, straight from the leaves that adorned the Crown of the Realmtree. Renate had stolen many a vial of the Realmtree Dew in her days, but never in so large a quantity and so pristine a condition. There must¡¯ve been enough for her to brew another year¡¯s supply of [Pearls of Rebalancing]. Another year of Inge staying by her side¡­ Renate held her breath, forcing her expression to remain neutral. She matched the catfish in solemnity as she looked up and nodded her approval. Only then did Palmr¡¯s smile return. ¡°Pleasure doing business with you, Finless,¡± he said, managing to sound almost sincere, ¡°and do come again.¡± *** As Renate Sandvik raced her way home, her heart filled with strange emotions. A kind of ebullient lightness. Ripples that spread across her feet and lifted her into the air, as if to carry her to the very heavens. It was¡­ joy. Cheer. Optimism. Which, in her case, were rare and strange emotions indeed. Her mood had been elevated to such heights that it couldn¡¯t even be dragged down by the arrival of the Tomasen twins, as the three of them very nearly crossed paths just outside the Town Market. Luckily, she¡¯d gotten a read on the twins before they could her, and she¡¯d dove deep into the river just in time, where she stilled herself and hid¡ªuntil it was safe to seek again. She could never be too careful around those sturgeons. She¡¯d rather face a Kronvakt strike team than those OAR-swinging brutes, who could [Paralyze] or [Snap Freeze] her into submission if she weren¡¯t careful. For the only thing a Pretjordian Wayfarer feared more than starvation was to be held against her will in another¡¯s magic. With that close call avoided, the only other things that might¡¯ve dampened her mood were the changes happening to Rotgard itself. One unexpected byproduct of the cave expedition had been the ¡®unclogging¡¯ of the Realmtree¡¯s taproot. Renate had yet to theorize on all the mechanisms at work, but one thing was clear. The removal of Mulaharta had brought back much of the river flow that Rotgard had sorely lacked for years. It was a strange sight¡ªpowerful currents that filled and reinvigorated the long-dried grooves upon the Roots. As if welcoming a pair of outrealmers hadn¡¯t been enough, the Realmtree now played host to a second life-altering event in as many days. For Yakshas, water was life. Water would revitalize and strengthen the downtrodden people of Rotgard like never before. They would rise, with years of pent-up anger and generations of inherited bitterness in their hearts. And who was to say their anger and bitterness wouldn¡¯t spill across the borders that separated the Roots from the Trunks? As if to underscore that point, today of all days, said borders were left all but undefended. The soldiers must be acting on an entirely different set of orders now, Renate mused as she completed the easiest border crossing of her life. Must be scrambling all over Rotgard now, trying to get ahead of the shitstorm that¡¯s sure to follow. The thought amused and worried her in equal measure. Whatever was about to go down now, it¡¯d be a miracle if it did so without bloodshed. Renate had neither the time nor the sympathy to spare anyone other than Inge and herself. But she couldn¡¯t deny having a soft spot for the Rotters, who clearly suffered the most under King Tyr¡¯s rule and had been largely blameless in the border conflict. Even putting that aside, however, she couldn¡¯t discount the impact all this would have on Inge and herself. The increased military presence could mean having to move Munkfred around more frequently, which would be a strain on Inge¡¯s already failing health. Paradoxically, it also meant restricted freedom of movement for their little family. She¡¯d have to be extra careful about covering her and her house/tortoise¡¯s tracks. Yet, despite all the fresh headaches, Renate¡¯s mood continued to be joyful. Cheerful. Optimistic. And as she neared her hiding place and slowed her steps, she searched in her heart for the why. Was it the box she¡¯d lashed onto her back¡ªa year¡¯s supply of the Realmtree Dew? That was the obvious answer, and at least partially correct, to be sure. But somehow, the tree-frog Yaksha knew that it was more than that. One unexpected byproduct of the cave expedition had been the connection¡ªno, friendship¡ªshe¡¯d forged with her fellow Wayfarers. With the Manusya she¡¯d bumped into first, then promptly had to nurse back to health. With the bumbling, fast-sinking Rakshasa, she of the hundred bullets and thousand questions. And¡­ yes, perhaps even with the sturgeon twins. Renate was woman enough to admit that the Tomasens weren¡¯t terrible company as long as their COASTER wasn¡¯t aimed in her direction. But her mind kept replaying one moment in particular. For as she and the Rakshasa stood around waiting for their turn at meditation, the devil-horned woman in her endless cheer had called her Renna. ¡°¡­¡± Renna Sandvik recalled that moment now as she descended the taproot (from the outside this time). Looking back, she couldn¡¯t even say why she¡¯d given her real name at all. She¡¯d held back her surname, of course, but she also could¡¯ve invented any number of aliases with which to appease the Rakshasa¡ªor simply ignored her pleas altogether. What was done was done. She¡¯d given her name to a complete stranger¡ªan outrealmer, no less¡ªand from there, that stranger had stumbled upon a childhood nickname very few souls in all the Realm had ever been privy to. Indeed, throughout Renate¡¯s life, only three souls had ever called her by that name. Inge Bjornsdatter was one. Ansig Sandvik had been another. And now, Serac Edin became the third. Joy. Cheer. Optimism. Even after all that self-scrutiny, Renate was not much closer to a satisfactory answer. But she sighed contentedly and allowed herself a small, vapid smile as she climbed down one of the branches that formed the niche where she¡¯d hidden her house. As soon as she did, however, said ¡®house¡¯ jumped out towards her with alarming speed. Munkfred the giant tortoise shook off the entirety of its camouflage¡ªdirt, leaves, branches, and all¡ªas it stared at its tree-frog master with wide, pleading, panicked eyes. And that was all it took to deflate Renate¡¯s mood in an instant. Inge! Renate clambered onto the tortoise¡¯s shell in a mad rush, reaching for the hatch handle. In less than the space of a Ksana, she¡¯d forgotten all about her eventful day¡ªand about the friendships forged therein. 99. Strangers in a Strange Land 99. Strangers in a Strange Land On only her second day since ascension, Serac already found herself back in familiar territory: prison. Having survived the Damnatorium, however, its Pretjordian cousin felt more like a vacation. She and Zacko had been ¡®given¡¯ separate cells, likely to curb their efforts to collaborate on an escape plan. In effect, however, it also meant that each Wayfarer had that much more room to stretch out their legs. And stretch them out Serac did, taking full advantage of the first real ¡®break¡¯ she¡¯d had since arriving in Pretjord. Her cell, like many other buildings upon the Realmtree, was a refurbished tree hollow, giving Serac the chance to experience what it might be like to reincarnate as a squirrel. This particular squirrel had been given a bed of crushed acorns to sleep on and a tree-stump desk for if she ever felt like writing diaries. As she lay on an acorn bed and stared up at a sap-stained ceiling, Serac pondered what her next action ought to be. Zacko was no help this time, not only because he was in the next cell over, but also because he could be heard loudly snoring. Which left Trippy as the only companion she could bounce ideas off of. What do you reckon, Trips? Think we¡¯ll be stuck here for long? Serac had finally taken her next evolution as an artist and shaved one more syllable off a pre-existing nickname. She did so in her inside voice, however, cognizant of the two Yaksha soldiers who stood guard on either side of a door made of braided vines. ¡°I should think that depends on you, Wayfarer. It¡¯d be no trouble for you to burn down this door and deal with the soldiers outside.¡± This was true enough. Even with numbers and harpoon guns on their side, the soldiers had stopped short of trying to confiscate Serac¡¯s and Zacko¡¯s Instruments, wary of the violent reprisal that would surely provoke. ¡°Keep in mind, however, that killing Anchored souls would incur a Karma deduction for each ¡®unsanctioned smite¡¯. It also might not be a savvy move, politically speaking, especially if you wish to remain friendly with the locals for the time being.¡± You know me well enough to know that¡¯s definitely out of the question. Besides, I get the funny feeling the soldiers here know it too. They seem to treat me and Zacko, not with fear, but with caution. It¡¯s like there¡¯s a line where you could push a Wayfarer too far, and they¡¯re careful not to cross it. ¡°Reasonable assumption, given the locals here¡ªwhether they be Anchored or Wayfaring¡ªadhere strictly to the laws and customs laid down by their king. Which leads me to suspect even your imprisonment is subject to its own set of protocols.¡± I was just thinking the same thing. These guys don¡¯t have real beef with me or Zacko. They¡¯re just acting on orders, and orders can change at any time. I think, at least for now, it¡¯s best to sit tight and see what happens. I know you don¡¯t like being held up, Trippy, and neither do I, but I just don¡¯t think antagonizing the locals is the right play right now. ¡°On that count, we can agree,¡± Trippy said, somewhat surprising Serac with his reasonable promptness. ¡°Play it how you see fit, Serac Edin. But do keep in mind that, here in Pretjord, you¡¯re always on a clock whether you like it or not. I don¡¯t expect the soldiers would want to threaten a pair of Wayfarers with starvation, but we simply know too little to be relying solely on our intuition.¡± On that count, Serac could just as easily agree. With her Satiety in the 20¡¯s now, her [Hunger] had become a palpable nagging sensation. She could only imagine what it might be like for Zacko and his faster metabolism, but if the Manusya man felt relaxed enough to take a nap, there was no reason for her not to follow suit. And wouldn¡¯t she know it? Cushioned by a bed of acorn bits, she enjoyed some of the most comfortable sleep she could ever remember, rivaled only by the Wayside Lotus¡¯s foamy futon. Gun to her head, though, she might actually have to side with the acorns. There was just a humble earthiness to it that really spoke to Serac¡¯s increasingly apparent outdoorsy side. When she woke from the nap, however, she was forced again to reckon with reality, namely in the form of her dwindling Satiety gauge. Down to 15 now, which was near enough the lowest it¡¯d ever been since arriving in Pretjord. [Hunger]¡¯s nagging had become an angry remonstration, as if Serac¡¯s tummy couldn¡¯t imagine a more serious insult than having its demands ignored for so long. Time to start banging on doors, you think? ¡°If you must, Wayfarer. After all, even freesouls are thralls to their most basic needs.¡± Chatter from the next cell over made it apparent that Zacko had already started without her. ¡°¡ªworried about breaking the Genua Convention? Even the Jailers down in hell would sometimes give us food, you know. Granted, said food was made up mostly of maggots, and the Jailers did it mostly to amuse themselves, but still¡ª¡± Taking her cue from her partner, Serac shuffled over to her cell¡¯s braided-vine door, where a salmon and a halibut stood guard. For one fleeting moment, Zacko¡¯s hanger-fueled ¡®joke¡¯ about salted fish crossed her mind. She shook her head vigorously to dispel the (un)savory thought. ¡°Hey chief!¡± Serac defaulted to her general address for souls who could provide or withhold what she wanted. She started with the halibut to her right. ¡°Any chance this prison stay might come with a meal service? You see, we Wayfarers can actually see the state of our [Hunger], and I gotta tell you, I¡¯m getting a bit close to bottoming out. I¡¯m not asking for a feast here. Just a bite to tide me over.¡± The silent treatment. Serac might¡¯ve expected as much. But while the halibut had remained stock-still, the salmon to the left fidgeted slightly¡ªa detail that didn¡¯t escape a [Hungry] Rakshasa¡¯s attention. Upon closer inspection, the salmon looked to be younger (and less experienced). If Serac were to choose, he ought to be the one for her to push. After all, there was a line these Anchored souls were nervous about crossing, and young Salmon Lad definitely appeared more nervous than his halibut partner. ¡°What about you, chief?¡± Serac prodded. ¡°Help a girl out, hey? I¡¯ll owe you one, and I don¡¯t mean to brag, but I¡¯m pretty good at returning favors. Just ask any of my friends in Nara¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯ll thank you, Wayfarer, to not fill my troops¡¯ heads with false promises.¡± The interruption had come courtesy of a third figure. It was the sea bass, he of the facial scars and grizzled veteran vibes. He now approached Serac¡¯s cell, with a ring of keys jangling in his hand. At his senior¡¯s arrival, Salmon Lad visibly relaxed, with relief washing over his once nervous countenance. Seeing this, Serac felt a stab of guilt and embarrassment. The young man was just trying to do his job to the best of his ability, and here Serac was, lording her Wayfaring status over him in a thinly veiled attempt at coercion. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Power as a form of oppression. If Serac weren¡¯t careful, she¡¯d become the very thing she despised. Yet another pitfall on a journey full of them¡ªand another self-improvement item for her to consider. As such, she too was grateful for Captain Sea Bass¡¯s arrival. What was more, on this occasion, the man appeared to have come bearing good news if not gifts. ¡°Thank your lucky stars, Wayfarers,¡± he announced, reluctance and annoyance written plainly upon his scars. ¡°You must¡¯ve done something right in your previous lives, for you to be showered with such goodwill and generosity.¡± The gruff captain¡¯s ¡®goodwill and generosity¡¯ consisted of opening the doors and letting both Wayfarers out of their cells. And while Serac was grateful for the gesture, she still waited for the ¡®showering¡¯ part of the claim. No further explanation was forthcoming from the sea bass himself, however, as he beckoned for the Wayfarers to follow with a flick of his chin. Serac and Zacko obeyed without protest, but not before exchanging a look and a shrug. ¡°Enjoy your stay, princess?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t complain. At least it was a short one.¡± The prison had been built into an out-of-the-way grotto¡ªexactly the kind of locale that would¡¯ve been ideal for a Waystation. Serac had no time to ponder the possibility, however, as Captain Sea Bass led the way at a brisk pace. Outside the grotto, Serac immediately drew in a breath, startled as she was by the sight that greeted her. Soldiers lined a groove upon a root that doubled as a footpath. Which was to be expected, were it not that they had company. For crowds of Yakshas in civilian clothing had gathered to witness the Wayfarers¡¯ emancipation. At least Serac had to assume that to be the occasion. They certainly weren¡¯t here for the soldiers, who now turned away from the Wayfarers to instead face the crowds, with their harpoon guns held loosely across their torsos¡ªnot quite a threat, but nevertheless ready to be used at a moment¡¯s notice. Serac found it more than passing strange. If the civilians risked being shot at to be here, there must¡¯ve been something that they deemed worth the risk. And Serac wasn¡¯t high enough on her Wayfaring horse to think she and Zacko would warrant that kind of response. The more she studied the gathered crowd, the more disturbed she was by their presence and appearance. It was plain for even an outrealmer like her to see that these civilians lived in a different world than the Stamgardians she¡¯d met so far. For one thing, they looked absolutely miserable¡ªgaunt faces, emaciated bodies, and tattered rags that had more in common with Penitent Rakshasas one Realm below than with their Yaksha neighbors one tree segment above. For another, the fierce, desperate [Hunger] that emanated from all of them gave the air a tangible, oppressive weight¡ªalmost a magical ¡®aura¡¯ unto itself. And if there indeed was magic to the Rotgardians¡¯ collective aura, it certainly had its effects on Serac. She was gripped by a strong urge¡ªeven stronger than her own [Hunger]¡ªto drop everything and help these people. But she was clear-headed enough to know that she didn¡¯t have anything to offer them. At least not now¡ªnot yet. So, she put her head down and followed Captain Sea Bass, all the while allowing herself to stew in a new pot of anger. For she remembered well the fragments of local knowledge she¡¯d gleaned from her time inside the Realm-cave. Renate and the Tomasen twins had their differences, but one thing they agreed on was that King Tyr was bad news for the people of Rotgard. I know Zacko and I agreed not to jump to conclusions, but I¡¯m just about ready to declare this Realm¡¯s Immortal as big an asshole as the one we smited in Naraka. And maybe that¡¯s exactly what Pretjord needs? A good ol¡¯ regicide to free the people from oppression by the Realm¡¯s most powerful soul¡­ As Serac entertained her increasingly seditious thoughts, it took her a while to notice another change in the air. But when she did, her [Hunger]-ravaged mouth instantly flooded with saliva. The aroma of hot food. Nothing overwhelming like the oddities that filled a Palmr Jorgensen¡¯s table, but something far more inviting like a Chef Petey special. Spice, charred meat, and promise of nourishment. Suddenly, the presence of the Rotgardian crowds made perfect sense. They¡¯d been drawn here, not by the empty novelty of an outrealmer sighting, but by the real and far more urgent need to eat. And how dare these soldiers posture with their weapons to deny their own people this basic need? They¡¯d better be following King Tyr¡¯s orders because that would be the only way Serac could forgive them. It¡¯d also fit nicely with her rapidly deteriorating opinion of the Realm Immortal himself¡­ That was when Captain Sea Bass halted and stepped aside, evidently having led the Wayfarers to their prescribed destination. Serac and Zacko found themselves in a large, near-circular depression upon the root¡ªalmost like the footprint of some enormous creature. And for all the outrealmers knew, that was exactly what it was. Whatever might¡¯ve been its origin, this depression was currently manned by a sizable collection of uniformed Yakshas. Soldiers and their harpoon guns lined the circular walls of the crater, taking Serac back to a certain ¡®boss arena¡¯ that had featured a very similar arrangement. But instead of an earthenware urn, the massive object that took up the crater¡¯s central space was a dining table, one that looked to have been cobbled together from the same braided-vine material as the prison doors. Upon this makeshift table spread a sumptuous feast. There was no other for it. Steaming pots of stew, roast meat that still dripped with fat, and cups overflowing with freshly squeezed fruit juice. Serac gulped down a dollop of her own saliva, even as she marveled at the logistics behind such a feast. As far as she could tell, this whole place was nothing but barren wasteland, somber soldiers, and starving civilians¡ªmany of whom now peered down from above the walls, eyes bulging at the delicacies that were so close yet so far beyond their reach. In any case, whoever had whipped up this supper was either very rich or very magical or perhaps both. Well, at least on the first count, Serac was likely to be proven correct. Presently, the dining table was occupied by exactly two people, both of whom clearly lived in a different world still from the soldiers or the civilians. The larger of the two (and by a considerable margin at that) was a Yaksha man of a typing Serac didn¡¯t recognize. In her brief time in Pretjord, she¡¯d seen some big boys, but this latest specimen took the cake, taking up an entire width of the dining table with his enormous bulk. And upon his wide, blocky head of polished basalt sat a crown¡ªa strikingly pretty thing made of glistening green leaves. Beside him, in a small corner of the table left behind by the man¡¯s frame, sat a woman. A Rakshasa woman¡ªa realization so shocking it took Serac multiple blinks of her eyes to accept it as fact. The woman was ¡®handsome¡¯ rather than beautiful in the conventional sense¡ªvisibly older than Serac, but not by much, with faint lines around her eyes and mouth that gave her a dignified appearance. Her outfit was an embroidered, form-fitting dress of lush forest green, which had the strange effect of softening the red of her cinnabar skin. She too wore a crown that wrapped neatly around her onyx horns, fashioned from dried coral of various shapes and colors. [Designation: LOHA of the Reticent Tribe] [Wayfarer Race: RAKSHASA] [Karmic Level: 87] [Liminal Karma: 52,826 ?] [INFERNAL Instrument: DIAPHRAGM] [Auxiliary: HEARTHSTONE] ¡°Welcome, outrealmers, welcome!¡± The Yaksha man spread his arms wide and greeted them in a booming voice, as jovial as he was loud. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you how delighted I am to meet you both. By my count, we haven¡¯t had anyone ascend from Naraka in 381 years, you know! Can you even imagine? But where are my manners? Before we dig in, allow me to introduce myself.¡± Yet, here was a man who truly needed no introduction. With enough context clues and just plain common sense, even an outrealmer like Serac knew exactly who this was. ¡°I am Tyr Djofulsen, king and warden of the Realmtree and Pretjord¡¯s reigning Realm Immortal. And this here is my wife and loyal partner of 381 years: Queen Loha.¡± 100. A Royal Reception 100. A Royal Reception For some time now, Serac had privately been working on a ¡®theory of the Circlet¡¯. It¡¯d all begun with Trippy Version 1¡¯s Shriving. When the Unmoored soul of REVOLVER¡¯s previous wielder was forcibly removed, he¡¯d taken the Penitent¡¯s Circlet with him. But then at least one part of that Circlet had since reconstructed itself, in a partial band that sat in Serac¡¯s right temple. This had also coincided with the intrusion by a third entity that called itself ¡®king¡¯ and spoke through Serac whenever the need arose. She had several hypotheses as to the identity of that third entity, none of them conclusive nor verifiable as yet. One guess was that it was somehow Trippy, who might¡¯ve survived the Shriving in some form to now opportunistically stop by to say hi or offer his timely assistance. Another possibility was Serac herself¡ªor a remnant spirit of her previous life (lives?), a glutton for punishment who clearly hadn¡¯t had enough of the afterlife and all its trials and tribulations. Whoever this third entity might be, its identity wasn¡¯t of pressing concern¡ªat least not yet. What was important, however, was for Serac to be aware of its fickle presence and use it to her advantage. It knew things Serac didn¡¯t. Its visits, while rare, invariably alerted her to opportunity or warned her of danger. Presently, a flash of pain in her right temple traced the shape of her ¡®partial¡¯ Circlet. It¡¯d come in the middle of King Tyr¡¯s speech, as Serac gazed upon the man¡¯s impressive frame and reckoned with the fact of his marriage to an ascended Rakshasa. Just a flash¡ªtoo brief even to elicit a wince¡ªbut it was enough to set her mind afire with questions and concerns. Questions like: just how has this woman lived for some 400 years, triple or even quadruple the natural lifespan of your average Rakshasa? And more importantly, how has she managed to keep her looks and figure all this time?? What¡¯s her secret??? And concerns like: is this the same woman who ¡®called¡¯ to me from inside the Realm-cave? The one who had a pet name for Mulaharta and wanted to have an ¡®endless feast¡¯? If so, that¡¯s definitely super sus, right? And what the hell¡¯s up with her [INFERNAL Instrument: DIAPHRAGM]? That¡¯s the same one Bayu the Jackass wielded down in the Damnatorium! Indeed, Serac was so taken by this Loha of the Reticent Tribe that she barely paid any attention to her husband the Realm Immortal. Which might¡¯ve been just as well, as Zacko seemed to doing the attention-paying for both of them. ¡°Shark Bro,¡± the Manusya said with his unflappable irreverence, inadvertently addressing one of Serac¡¯s unanswered questions, ¡°this supper looks way too fancy to be prison food, unless it¡¯s one of those ¡®last meal¡¯ type situations. What¡¯s the occasion?¡± ¡°you, outrealmers!¡± [Designation: TYR DJOFULSEN¡ªthe Great Pacifier] [Aberrant Race: Yaksha] [Aberrant Class: Realm Immortal] [ZEALOUS Instrument: TAMPER] Tyr Djofulsen, the bull-shark-typed Yaksha, had replied without missing a beat. If he¡¯d been offended at all by Zacko¡¯s usage of ¡®Shark Bro¡¯, he didn¡¯t show it. ¡°unexplained withering of the Roots has been a thorn by my side these past few years. I¡¯ve lain awake at nights, worried sick for my Roots-dwelling brothers and sisters. Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when I hear that a pair of outrealmers had shown up out of nowhere and provided the solution¡ªall on their very first day of ascension! Come now, spare no detail. How did you rid the Roots of their malaise?¡± At this, Serac and Zacko exchanged another look. The Manusya had both eyebrows raised, as if to say: is this guy for real? Whereas the Rakshasa¡¯s brow was knotted in a skeptical frown. It was rare indeed for Serac to be the mistrustful one of the two, but such was the effect of having seen the wretched state of the Rotgardian people¡ªand of the ¡®warning¡¯ from her third entity. On any other day, she might¡¯ve been quickly taken in by King Tyr¡¯s friendly words and affable manners. But not today. Today, she fully intended to watch and learn. ¡°inside the Roots,¡± Serac took it upon herself to answer, with her keen eyes flickering between the royal couple. ¡°An ascended Hellspawn called Mulaharta. Know anything about it?¡± For a moment, King Tyr¡¯s jolly expression flattened into one of frank surprise. Crucially, he gave his wife a sidelong glance, as if to gauge her reaction. Queen Loha, for her part, hardly reacted at all. She¡¯d been wearing the faintest of thin smiles¡ªone that barely reached her eyes¡ªever since the outrealmers¡¯ arrival. Where her husband was warm and welcoming, Loha was cool and reserved¡­ and that didn¡¯t change one bit at the mention of a certain Flesh-fiend. No words were exchanged between the couple, but King Tyr appeared to have gotten a message anyhow. He hastily turned back to his outrealmer guests and spoke with a distinct note of sheepishness. ¡° You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. And with that earth-shaking laughter, the king went right back to his jolly self. He didn¡¯t wait for an answer, as he himself began to fill his plates and cups with the delicacies on offer. Serac watched it all with a deepening frown. This Queen Loha, despite her silence, had communicated something to her husband that made him change the subject. But what? And how? This only made Serac burn hotter with curiosity. She turned to her only other source of information, asking with her inside voice: did you get it, Trippy? What did Loha do, some kind of magic? ¡°Magic? No, not exactly,¡± came the prompt reply, sans judgment. ¡°I believe this is a classic case of one member of a marriage wearing the pants in the relationship.¡± Pants? That didn¡¯t help her at all! Neither did she think it was particularly accurate, given Queen Loha was clearly wearing a dress. An elegant and timelessly chic one at that, so much so that it served as a painful reminder of the exoskeletal tunic Serac herself had been sporting since First Hope. But then her stomach chose this moment to rumble¡ªloudly enough that the whole table could hear. It drew another good-natured guffaw from King Tyr, an amused snicker from Zacko (how dare he!), and no reaction at all from Queen Loha. Cinnabar face turning even redder, Serac buried herself in the food before her. She decided then and there that interrogating a Realm Immortal and his pants-wearing wife could wait¡ªat least until she¡¯d taken care of her dwindling [Satiety] gauge. In her haste, she¡¯d barely paid attention to the first item she grabbed: some kind of pastry with a sugary, fruity filling. She bit into it, then her cinnabar face immediately lit up into a bright shade of orange. ¡° ¡°peach pie.¡± Where her husband was loud and coarse, Loha was soft and carefully measured in her speech. Even so, she now looked across the table at Serac with a warm smile that crinkled her eyes. The effect on Serac was dramatic, as she instantly felt her earlier hostility melt, replaced by a fuzzy sort of appreciation¡ªthough she couldn¡¯t say whether it was because of the smile or the peach pie that filled her senses with its fragrant sweetness. ¡°Serac. Please, have as much as you like. There¡¯s more where that came from.¡± Serac was momentarily stunned into silence, having had no memory of introducing herself to the royal couple. But she quickly remembered that Loha was a Wayfarer, with access to the same Pathsighted information as she. Besides which, they were the king and queen. Why wouldn¡¯t they find out everything they could about the first outrealmers to ascend to their Realm in 381 years? With that reminder, Serac went right back to interrogation mode. Sure, Loha might bake a mean peach pie and take genuine pleasure in others enjoying her food. But the queen was clearly hiding something, and Serac intended to find out what. But first¡­ what a peach pie! Serac found herself unable to stop, ignoring all the savory options on the table as she stuffed her face with dessert. The pie was sweet but not overly so, pleasantly flaky yet mouthwateringly juicy, and best of all, it tasted something like home. Which was amazing in itself, given the paucity of Serac¡¯s knowledge about her own ¡®home¡¯. However, even at the height of her food-borne euphoria, Serac managed to feel a stab of guilt. For she¡¯d remembered Petter Svensen and his [Stone-cooked Ulvknall Liver] that had been the very first thing she¡¯d tasted in Pretjord. The liver was good, and she still had fond memories of an impromptu picnic in the woods, but if she were perfectly honest, Chef Petey couldn¡¯t hold a candle to Queen Loha and her peach pie. Everyone here is a cook, and that means I¡¯m nothing special. It¡¯s honestly a small miracle that I haven¡¯t been sent down to Rotgard. ¡° ¡° ¡° Loha¡¯s smile faltered for a brief moment, perhaps put off by her guest¡¯s sudden bluntness. ¡° ¡°Loha? I can honestly say I¡¯ve never had anything better.¡± Despite her gushing compliments, Serac¡¯s own smile didn¡¯t reach her eyes. She knew she was being rude and perhaps even playing with fire because of it. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Zacko and his one raised eyebrow were thinking the same thing. Yet, even now, the cold metal band in her right temple tingled and buzzed, not in fear of danger, but in anticipation of opportunity. Somehow, either she or the memories imparted by her third entity knew that this bold impudence was exactly how she ought to approach this royal couple. Tyr and Loha exchanged another look, but there was a visible shift in both of their attitudes. For a brief moment, the queen¡¯s expression contorted into an almost childish pout, as if pleading with her husband to come to her rescue. To this, King Tyr responded with a subtle yet unmistakable nod. ¡°