《Revolver Chronicles [Afterlife LitRPG]》 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!¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. 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] A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. [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. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. 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?¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°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?¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. (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. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. 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. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. 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. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. 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.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°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. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. 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. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. 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. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. 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. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. 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. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. 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¡­ Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. 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. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. 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. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. 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. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°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.¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. 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?¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story 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. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°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.¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. 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. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. 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 the 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. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°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¡¯. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. [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.¡± Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°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. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. 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. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve 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] This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. [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 author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. *** 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. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. 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. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! 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. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°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. Stolen novel; please report. 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. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! 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 six 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?¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. 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 except 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%] This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. 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. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°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. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. 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.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please 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.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. 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 from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. 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.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. 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.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°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?¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°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.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. 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!¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. 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.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. 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.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. 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.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. 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.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. 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?¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°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.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. 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.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. 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.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please 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.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡­ [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.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°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 had 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.