[BOOK 4 FINALE PART 2] Chapter 202 - Peace is Not Made for You

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]
It somehow ended up being even longer than part 1... And yes, before you ask, this is the last part lol. I will probably do some kind of update regarding book 5 soon, maybe even later today, but for now, just know that I'm not planning on taking any kind of particularly extended hiatus, even if I might take a bit to properly plot out everything.

Enough talk about that, for now.

Enjoy :).
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Nahar Kraven released a deep, annoyed sigh. 

The gash running from his left hip and all the way to his right shoulder itched something fierce as his body worked to expel the miasma and heal the injury. Slowly but surely the rot was squeezed out, and his flesh fused. A nasty, jagged scar was left behind, but, well, it was barely even noticeable on the already mangled, disgusting surface of his skin.

The adjudicator got him good with that one. And that sucked. He had gone through all this trouble, and just when he thought he could finally let loose for a change, he ran into one thing after another. This was supposed to be fun. A release from all the shackles that had been strangling him his entire life.

Instead, it was starting to feel like a fucking chore.

“What’s a man gotta do for some peaceful, mindless slaughter?” He tsked. “I already sold my damn soul. Feelin’ puh-retty scammed right now!”

His face turned towards the strange woman, his elongated eyes narrowing vertically rather than horizontally. He could tell how disgusted she was by his presence. But her binding, the trade she made for power when she was a bigshot in her last life, made her unable to do anything more than stand there, her lower lip quivering as she did her best to look at ease. 

Oh, he was sure he’d find himself in a similar situation one day. After all, everything came with a price. But now, he could enjoy his advance payment in peace, free from such worries.

Shifting his unbalanced feet, he slowly got up, warming his shoulders up as he looked in the direction that damned judge fled. “I’ll make him pay for that.”

From a young age, Nahar had been raised to be a weapon.

Sure, there had been many moments where he lamented the way his upbringing went. It had been stripped of all the joy and innocence a normal childhood should come with, and filled with endless hours of training that bordered on torture. 

But at the end of the day, there was a reason why his father had chosen him, and not one of his siblings. 

It was because he had been born to be a weapon. It came naturally to him. Once, he had been blind to this truth. Now, he had embraced it with all his body, mind, and soul. “I can finally make you proud, Dad,” he said jokingly. Bending his neck with a crack that made her wince, he turned to face Firrita and gestured. “Come on, you dog. Let’s go for a walk.”

She glared at him angrily, but obeyed. For a long moment, she looked like she wanted to say something, but ultimately, she opted to stay quiet.

“What is it?” Nahar spat.

“That man…” She mulled it over for another, final moment, and then spat it out. “The owner of this city. He is the one who killed your father.”

Nahar paused. “What? Really?”

She nodded. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“Huh. Good for him,” he declared. “Now let’s get going.”

Firrita scowled. “Do you truly not care? I thought humans had pretty strong familial bonds.”

He waved her away. “Like I give a shit. It’s a fun coincidence, I guess. But from what you’ve told me of fate, it isn’t even that unlikely to happen, is it?”

She hummed for a moment before slowly nodding. “Indeed.”

“Again, why should I care, then?” he asked, a sickening grin nearly splitting his face in two. “I’m gonna kill the bastard, anyway.”

They set off at a run. He wasn’t in a hurry. The adjudicator was injured and weakened. He would be caught soon enough. 

Nahar’s eyes narrowed as he watched the giant skeleton slowly make its way into the city, pushing through the massive crack in the wall. That thing might be troublesome, he thought, slowing down slightly as he examined the titanic form. 

The man who killed my father, huh?

This, then, had to be the same skeletal giant as the one Firrita and Kaefalge mentioned before. Well, slightly different, it appeared. They hadn’t mentioned the shawl, and the one from before had been a triple-headed monstrosity of spine tentacles, while this one, bar the two arms and a leg split at the knee, was roughly humanoid.

He had heard the rumors of how it had been summoned through a massive sacrifice of blood. It was then that some part of his drug-abused brain finally kicked in, and he realized something hilarious, breaking into a sudden laughter. “A sacrifice of blood!” He laughed. “So that’s why my old man lost!”

Add the leviathan corpse, and everything slid into place. 

Janhalar Kraven had built his legacy upon his talent. His blood had been a special reagent, and if used as part of an ability, even in minuscule amounts, it could drastically boost the power of any blood-affinity ability. It even worked on spirit abilities.

If that man had sacrificed the blood of that leviathan, a single drop of Janahalar’s blood would have been enough to supercharge the summon. 

The realization made Nahar scowl somewhat. If this is how big it can get without my dad’s blood…

He had heard from Firrita about this skeletal giant, but seeing it with his own eyes was different. It was a being of beauty. Of power. A deep envy sparked in Nahar’s heart. A dark expression descended upon him. “Power like this should only belong to me.”

“You truly want it?” Firrita asked in a way that made him pause.

“I do. You’re saying there’s a way to get it?”

She hesitated. “There is a method for transferring spirit abilities from one soul to another. It is quite difficult, however. The original owner has to consent, and they would die.”

Nahar grinned. “I’m sure a bit of persuasion will get the job done.” 

“But—”

“I know,” Nahar said, a mad look in his eye. “But it’s totally worth it.”

Back when he received his second talent, he needed to have his spirit abilities removed. It was because the compression would have made it impossible to fit all the extra power in.

And now, if he took in another spirit ability, his already short time on this world would be cut even shorter. 

But for a power like that? 

It was worth it.

With a renewed enthusiasm, he sped up, his eyes dancing hungrily.

They continued running, but not even a quarter-minute later, something odd happened. The massive skeleton suddenly turned grey and paused. “Huh?” It was completely frozen, almost as if it had been sealed in time. “What the hell…?” Turning to face his companion, Nahar asked, “Hey, Firrita… do you have any idea what just happened to that thing?”

“I… Apologies, Apostle. I do not know. I have never seen such a thing before.”

“Seriously? Aren’t you supposed to be some ancient powerhouse?” Scoffing, he shook his head. “Some wise sage you are.”

She scowled at him. “The ways of the Great Labyrinthe are infinite in their complexity. There is always something new to behold.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” Nahar squinted. “Could that lordling have died?”

“No.” Firrita shook her head. “Depending on the exact nature of the spirit ability, it would have either vanished or remained until it naturally ran out of energy. This is different.” A concerned look descended on her face. “It’s as if it had been suspended somehow. Or sealed.” Her body language shifted as she grew even warier. “I do not like this. We should proceed with caution.”

“Bah!” he spat. “Just say you don’t know what’s happening and keep your mouth shut.”

She looked about to retort, but thought better of it. Instead, she simply nodded her head and ran along.

They ran for another minute. Then, suddenly, something bizarre caught Nahar’s attention. “Wait.” He raised a hand as he came to a sudden stop, his change in attitude making Firrita grow alert. “We have found him. I think.”

It was that damn lordling, Fred Hill or whatever his name was. However, something was deeply wrong. 

“What the fuck?” Nahar muttered as he watched the lordling walking around on all fours, standing like some kind of ape as he curiously examined a dead body. To make an odd situation even more bizarre, the man just… wasn’t there. It was like he had no soul, and yet, his body was radiating an intense, terrible power, the kind Nahar associated with potent cursed items rather than people.

Firrita muttered something fearfully as she stepped back. “A husked! Apostle, we have to—” 

Nahar turned around, just in time for a gust of wind to pass him by, and for Firrita to vanish from his sight. “Huh?” A loud crash grabbed his attention as he turned, his eyes shooting wide open as he watched the man, now standing fifty meters in the other direction, holding Firrita by her bloody head as he repeatedly smashed her face into a wall, almost as if trying to see what would fall out. 

When did he move?

Deep cracks spread around the impact, blood splattering in a large radius with every impact.

The man lifted her up by the neck, and she turned her mangled, unrecognizable face in Nahar’s direction, cracking her split lips open to mutter “Run” before the ape-man casually pushed her shoulder down, pulling her head off like he was plucking a flower, then examining it, before finally throwing it away like a child who lost interest in a toy. 

Slowly, with a horrible, beastly interest, the man turned his cracked golden mask in Nahar’s direction. 

“Hey,” Nahar called angrily. “That’s my manservant you just broke.” He pulled his whip-blade back. “She was supposed to teach me something very important.” His anger at losing his source of information flared, doubling when he realized he would never get his hands on the skeletal summon. “Get out of my sight!” He activated an ability, sending his weapon cracking in the man’s direction.

In response, the lordling simply raised his hand and grabbed the whip before it could crack, then tugged. 

Nahar was nearly thrown off his feet by the impossible strength behind that tug, and as he struggled to keep hold on his weapon, he watched it snap in two, almost losing his balance as he took a step back. “What the—”

Before he could even realize what was happening, Nahar found himself flying backwards, having suffered a crushing knee blow to his stomach. He crashed back-first into the side of a building, the impact knocking the air of his lungs, and before he could regain his composure, the man was already standing right before him, throwing a punch straight at his face. 

He dodged with every bit of power he could muster, but even as the spiked fist missed him, a foot flew up at his chin, cracking with an impact so vivid it felt like it knocked his soul out of his body. Glass and concrete shattered loudly in the chaos around him as he was sent flying, tearing up the side of the building. 

Nahar only realized what had happened after he was already nearly fifty meters up in the air, where he watched the beastly man leap, jumping off of mid-air concrete debris to speed up towards him. How is that possible!? 

It was like he had suddenly stepped into a nightmare. His body was flaring with a number of injuries. Mind flushed with terror at the sudden danger, he acted with everything he had. His body lit up with a red light as a quadruple-starred Blood Rush enhanced his physical capabilities, finally bringing him to a point where he could react to his opponent’s movements. 

He conjured a thick spear, twirling it around as he balanced himself in the middle of the air. 

The lordling shot through the air like an arrow, reaching just in time for Nahar to bring his spear forward, thrusting it towards the man’s face. The man dodged, coiling around the spear with unnatural finesse as he struck forward with his spiked knuckles. They impacted against Nahar’s stomach, radiating the worst pain he had ever felt, paralyzing him. 

The lordling pulled his fist back, tugged on Nahar’s spear, and looped a kick straight at his face. Nahar came crashing down to the earth like a meteorite, bouncing off the concrete like a ragdoll as he struggled to stop, unable to get back to his feet. It was only when he crashed into a wall that he finally came to a rest.

The staccato sound of feet kicking off the sides of buildings was the only sign Nahar got that he was about to be attacked again. “That’s enough!” he shouted as the area ten meters around him exploded with the power of Red Venom, his acidic blood burning through solid concrete like a candle flame through paper. 

A splash of Nahar’s blood caught the lordling just as he stepped into range. It washed over him, melting the front of his armor in an instant, leaving him nearly naked, only a small, reinforced section of his leggings around his crotch staying in one piece. Even his golden mask cracked apart, falling into pieces as his face was revealed. A face with empty, hollow eyes.

For a brief moment, Nahar thought he saw the man’s skin melt as pure red showed beneath the armor. But that was no skin. It was scales; scales of blood metal. And while they took some surface level damage from the acid, it wasn’t enough to melt all the way through.

Shockingly enough, in the next moment, the armor rapidly repaired itself, regaining its white luster as it covered the man’s body once more, going from half-destroyed to back together as if nothing had happened in mere moments. Even with his golden mask gone, a hood covered the man’s face yet again.

Undeterred by Nahar’s attack, the lordling lunged forward, head-first as he reached out. 

Nahar raised his spear, blocking the incoming fist before kicking it aside, dodging out of the way of the follow up attack, and sending a heavy slash down the lordling’s body, one that cracked scales and tore into flesh, finally knocking him away to get some space to breathe. His opponent was knocked back, tumbling head over ass down the street before slowly coming to a stop. 

The man didn’t stay down for long. But even as he got up to his feet, he didn’t rush forward. The lordling’s body steamed with heat and essence as the power in his body spiraled out of control. He looked on like some kind of unintelligent beast, cocking his head at Nahar, almost as if wondering why he hadn’t stopped moving yet. 

The wound Nahar had inflicted was already covered by the armor yet again, but even then, he could tell that it was shallow.

Nahar squinted. What could he have possibly done to get such power?

By this point, Nahar had had enough time to collect himself. The sudden attack had caught him by surprise. He hadn’t expected to meet such an opponent, which placed him on the back foot. But he wasn’t weaker than his foe. Despite the several direct hits he’d received, the damage he’d suffered was pretty minimal, and it was already slowly healing.

Nahar observed the man as he leaned forward, clearly preparing to attack again. “Come at me, you freak!” he shouted with a thrilled shriek as he brought his spear forward, exhilarated at the prospect of a good fight.

His opponent didn’t wait another second, blurring forward to meet Nahar’s attack head on. They exchanged a flurry of strikes, both sides taking heavy hits.

The second talent Nahar had received boosted his physical capabilities across the board. This included his natural regeneration, which allowed him to rapidly heal from the damage he was taking. He had heard of the lordling’s talent. But with his skeletal giant frozen, he had no good ways to utilize it in a one-on-one fight. Actually…

Nahar suddenly realized something that made a chill run down his spine. 

The man… he hadn’t used a single ability. 

This was nothing but raw physical strength.

It was at that moment that he finally realized why the essence pouring of the man’s body felt so familiar. It was unholy essence. The lack of abilities, the frozen giant, the man’s animalistic behavior—it all suddenly clicked as raw disbelief flooded Nahar’s mind. 

He sacrificed his soul!

A mad shout sounded from Nahar’s mouth as he ejected a high-speed pressure jet of boiling blood, aiming to overwhelm the man’s defenses. In response, the lordling used his forearm shield to deflect the jet while running forward, uncaring of the acid melting through his forearm as he attacked again.

Forced to stop his attack, Nahar pulled his arm back and swung his spear forward again. He missed the attack, only to take a nasty kick to the side of his head, one that he repaid with a kick to the man’s knee. 

The lordling lunged, Nahar pulled back. He swung, the lordling dodged. Nahar thrust his spear, landing a shallow hit on the man’s shoulder, only to take another excruciatingly painful dose of spikes, this time to the side of his face, followed by three rapid-fire hits to his stomach. Rather than reel, Nahar rejoiced. His attacks are getting weaker!

There had been an impossible weight to the man’s hits, but as the fight went on, it seemed that he was losing power. 

Nahar had only half a moment to notice that something was off. Despite the lesser power behind the attacks, the essence radiating off the man’s body had only grown stronger. Alarm bells sounded in his mind as he noticed that the sleek armor was looking a lot more baggy on the man’s body, hanging loose as if the man had… 

He isn’t getting weaker! He’s getting lighter!

His realization was punctuated by another set of attacks, each one faster than the one before it; he could barely defend himself, and before long, they started to slip through as terror reared its ugly head again. I can’t keep up. 

He was struck in the head, battered all over his side, a kick cracking his hip, spikes mounting pain everywhere they touched. 

The lordling grabbed Nahar by his head and smashed it into the ground, then he threw him bodily, and before Nahar could even collide with the wall he’d been thrown at, a torpedo of a dropkick dented his stomach, crushing with enough force to make his spine crack, sending a tingling numbness into his legs. 

They burst through the wall and out the other side, where Nahar tumbled into another wall, only for the man to swiftly corner him, beating down at him furiously, the spikes breaking and remaining inside of Nahar’s body.

Releasing a desperate, high-pitched screech, four stars lit up inside of Nahar’s soul. He burst into such thick blood essence it looked as if his body was burning with red flame, his stores of Rich Blood rapidly dwindling as he also exploded with Red Venom. 

The lordling was thrown back, but not even a second later, he charged back in, only for Nahar eject a flurry of crimson spikes. The mounting damage finally got through the man’s thick scales, breaking into his body, shredding his armor beyond repair, even ruining his eyes. 

And yet, like a monster out of a horror film, he was undeterred. Blood flowing liberally out of his ruined body, he leaped again, making it to Nahar in mere moments, who slashed wildly with jagged daggers, tearing the lordling’s arms into shreds, only for the man to lunge with his mouth open, biting into Nahar’s forearm. 

Like a rabid dog, he tore and ripped, tugging on the arm until the part he’d bitten broke off, only to then snake forward, taking a second bite, this time, out of Nahar’s neck.

Nahar screamed. “Get off me!” 

What transpired next could no longer be called a fight. It was the pure manifestation of raw, brutal violence. Despite Nahar’s desperate attempts to fight back, and despite successfully and repeatedly debilitating his opponent, the beast of a man refused to stop attacking; even as his front teeth were cracked and broken, he tore his cheeks so he could bite with his molars instead. 

And then, suddenly—

The power enveloping the lordling’s body weakened drastically. He froze. His steaming body slackened, and then fell over like a puppet with his strings cut. 

With a panicked whimper, Nahar pushed him back, rushing to his feet. His legs, together with the rest of his body, had been badly damaged, making him unsteady. But now that the merciless onslaught was over, he noticed that the damage wasn’t nearly as bad as the pain would indicate. 

The world shook. Nahar looked up as his panic returned, only to glance down as he realized that the lordling suddenly healed a substantial portion of the injuries he’d taken. The skeleton is moving again!

Nahar released a furious bark as he kicked the unconscious lordling in the head, sending him flying out of the building and into the street. “You miserable—” He screamed again, conjuring a spear and piercing it straight through the unconscious lordling’s heart. Then he made another, pinning his left arm, then the right, then his legs. 

For a long moment, he was tempted to wait and see if he would wake up. The shame he felt from his own pathetic reactions burned a lot harder than the pain from his injuries. But no. He wanted the man dead, yesterday. 

So he conjured another spear, this one aimed at his target’s skull. “Die.”

But he had tunnel-visioned a little too hard, it seemed. A looming shadow suddenly appeared over him. 

Nahar turned, fully expecting to see the skeletal giant standing behind him—

But there stood something else, instead. 

A golem of flesh, built of corded muscle and bone armor. 

It stood with an imposing presence. It was void of facial features bar two pairs of heavily-lidded eyes. Bone plates covered every inch of exposed skin they could without hampering the creature’s mobility, and even then, what little flesh was exposed didn’t look like supple skin, but more like tanned leather.

From what Firrita caught in the rumors, this thing had once been brought into the city by the lordling and his companions, only to be left at the headquarters of the reigning faction, where it remained ever since. 

He didn’t even have the time to be confused as he heard a noise and turned to face the lordling’s body. There, he spotted a naked… woman? Despite her feminine face, she was built like a man, her legs reverse-jointed and her arms rippling with thick muscle as she desperately tried to pull the lordling’s body free of the javelins Nahar had impaled him with.

A fierce, gut-bursting anger exploded in Nahar as he conjured another spear, preparing to throw it. “Don’t you dare!” But as soon as he moved his arm, something tugged on it, shifting his throw off-target. Turning, he spotted a shadowy tendril binding his right forearm to the ground. He tested it, finding it pretty tough, but not enough to resist a full-force tug. 

Yet, it had done enough. It bought the woman another moment, one that she used to pull the lordling free and start fleeing.

“You—” He was about to start running after her, but he was interrupted when the flesh golem behind him suddenly started moving. 

Nahar turned around, and just as he did, his senses caught something off. The golem behind him was no mere golem any longer. It gazed down at him with intelligence in its eyes, a subtle but dense pressure radiating off of it.

Raising its fist up, it brought it down on Nahar. He prepared to dodge, but found his foot stuck to the ground, another shadowy binding sticking to him, having appeared there without him seeing or sensing a single damn thing. He scowled. “Who the fuck…!?”

The golem’s attack landed. He crossed his arms to defend himself. It didn’t hold even a fiftieth of that lordling’s physical power, so it did little to hurt Nahar, but it was annoying. And, more importantly—

“They escaped,” he whispered, having turned to find the strange woman and his target nowhere to be seen. “They escaped…” he repeated with disbelief, his anger burning hot enough that his teeth creaked under his clenched jaw.

Nahar yelled, throwing a punch that knocked the flesh golem back as he turned, eyes dancing wildly. His square pupils shone with a sinister grey light. Every monster in a ten mile radius suddenly stilled as a command was imparted directly into their minds—”Find them! Find them and bring them to me!”

As he finished his shout, he took a moment to look around, spotting nothing on the empty streets around him. He hadn’t failed to notice those dark bindings, either. “Someone is hiding in the shadows, hmm?” He laughed coldly. But even as he focused his senses, he found nothing. “Already fled?” he wondered. His cold laughter redoubled as he glanced at the flesh golem, which was getting up. “Just you wait. Nobody leaves this city alive.”

***

It hurt. The little creature had struck it. It hurt so much.

It was cold. 

Fear grasped the many hearts of the newborn as it shuffled, trying to get to its feet. Should it fight? Should it flee? Its instincts were conflicting. It hungered for blood and yet it anxiously shifted, fearing the predators lurking in the darkness.

The little but strong creature hurt to look at. Then it shouted something. And then, it ran.

The newborn was relieved. It looked around. Confused, scared, and so cold, it got up, fleeing away from the scary little being that hurt it. It navigated through the tight corridor, losing its way between the tall, rectangular monoliths of smooth stone.

Something shouted. It turned, spotting a handful of things just like the little scary one.

“Mom!” an even littler one shouted as it grasped a bigger little one’s leg.

“Listen to me, Hannah,” a second, even bigger little one whispered. “Run back into the building. Take Emma with you.”

“But you—”

“I’ll distract it! Just go!”

The other two, releasing strange whimpers and panicked shouts, slipped back into the construct of stone.

“Hey!” the being that stayed behind shouted, picking up a rock and throwing it at the newborn. “Come here you stupid beast!” It ran, scurrying down the street. 

The newborn eyed the situation warily. The other little one was scary. It hurt to look at. These little ones didn’t hurt to look at. They were not scary. It curiously strode forward, catching up to the running little one in mere seconds.

“Oh shi—” it screamed as the newborn’s foot came down on it. 

It raised its leg, noting the crimson stain beneath it.

Suddenly, something shifted. It felt a power surge into it. It wasn’t much, but the star churning inside it grew just a bit bigger. That felt good. It needed more of that. 

Slowly, it turned toward the monolith of stone where the other two fled. A few moments later, it pulled its arm out of the collapsing structure, another two stains of red upon it. But this time, there was no good feeling. Were they too little? No, now that it thought about it, they were different. The scary little one hurt to look at. The little one that made it feel good didn’t hurt, but it did have a presence to it. A weight. 

It needed more of that.

Running through the maze, it found more little ones, these ones furry, their presence even heavier. These ones fought. They caused pain, just a little. But turning them into stains felt much better than the other, non-furry little ones. The star within it roiled, growing rapidly. It could pull on the power from it. 

That power moved through its body and effortlessly connected with the constructs of stone surrounding it. With just a bit of effort, it could command the stone to twist and turn. It raised its fist up, then imbued it with power. It crashed into the ground with a resounding impact, leaving a small crater. 

That felt good.

It needed more of that.

It continued chasing the little furry ones. They were moving. Hunting something, just the way it hunted them.

And their prey was outside there. Somewhere out of the maze. 

Through the big hole in the giant encirclement. 

It followed.

Somewhere far away, it felt a many little ones, many brimming with power, more food for the star shining in its soul. It knew what it needed to do.

That felt good.

It needed more of that.

***

“Crap crap crap crap crap crap—” Sophia was seriously regretting her life choices.

The unconscious Freddy was slung over her shoulders as she sprinted down the street, taking several turns to try and lose the terrible figure she just saved the aforementioned passed-out man from.

It took a special kind of stupid to do what she just did. In fact, were it not for her shadowy savior, she would no doubt have joined the many corpses littering the streets around her. Her heart sank at the sight of so many dead.

But she didn’t quite have the time to worry about it. 

The twisted figure screamed suddenly, and her blood froze at the anger in his voice.

“Oh… he’s really pissed!”

To make a bad situation even worse, she was only half confident that Freddy was still alive.

Despite having healed him to perfection, she wasn’t able to wake him up. He was dreadfully skinny—emaciated even. Almost all of his muscle mass was gone, and despite her healing, that wasn’t going to be fixed overnight. 

That, however, was a minor problem.

The bigger issue was that she could just barely feel his aura, and even then, it felt… broken. “Soul damage,” she muttered, a jolt of panic sparking through the center of her chest. “Way too much soul damage!”

However, this was not the right time to be worrying about this.

She spotted something of a mix between an owl and a bear. It turned a corner before her. Then, it stopped, pausing as it watched her, as if to confirm something. 

And then it started screaming.

Sophia looked around in terror as more monsters appeared, mostly atop the roofs of the nearby buildings, looking down at her and shouting.

The terrible, tremendous aura of that mangled man suddenly trembled, turning its focus in her direction. He knows where I am!

She felt the titanic aura intensify as it rapidly grew closer, and despite her running with all she had, it wasn’t enough.

A scream sounded behind her, and she turned, spotting the man high in the sky, having leapt over the buildings, holding a spear and preparing to throw it down at her. “Die!” he shouted—

And then, a massive chunk of a building hit him dead center, knocking him out of the air and sending him flying. A second later, he crashed into the ground, causing the earth to tremble.

Sophia cleared a building, only to spot the gigantic form of Bloodshed, standing as if it had just thrown something in their direction. I’ve never been happier to see a bloody skeleton in my life!

And just as she had the thought, the skeleton’s owner cracked his eyes open. “Freddy!” she shouted, relief evident in her features.

But her elation was cut short at the sight of the terror in his eyes. “Whuuuaaarr,” he groaned. “Huwurara, haaaraaaraa…” he continued muttering, eyes dancing around wildly as if he had no idea where… or who, he even was.

***

What is happening to—

Freddy’s thought was cut short as a sudden, sharp noise, like a distorted, off-pitch trumpet, sounded in his mind. A moment later, his rapid breathing sounded as loud as the crashing of a mountain, then it went mute as the world lost all color, then flipped, then time seemed to move back and forward; a second trumpet sounded. What am I!? he insisted, only for his words to echo in every language he’d ever heard.

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god—

A third trumpet smelled green all across his back.

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—

MASTER! A thunderous voice forced him out of his spiral. He recognized it. On reflex, he moved into his soul, into the safety of his ethercosm. 

There, he finally felt… stable, at least. An unbelievable pain seared through his soul projection, right down the massive crack that nearly split the blue-robed reaper down the middle.

His panic, rather than easing, multiplied hundredfold.

Deep, white cracks scattered like spiderwebs throughout his soul. It looked on the verge of collapse. This wasn’t just a bit of soul damage. He was going to die. In fact, as he watched one of the bigger cracks spread, he realized he was even closer to death than he thought.

“I… I don’t want to die…” he muttered. “Oh god… What did I do to myself?”

Master! Bloodshed’s voice called again, and he turned to face the rune cage housing Bloodshed. Listen to me! You aren’t dead yet. 

“I’m about to die, Bloodshed,” he said, his projection’s voice strained, sounding on the verge of tears. “It’s all over.”

You aren’t dead yet, it insisted. The blood domain, Master! Go into the blood domain.

Freddy burst into laughter. “The blood domain!? The place I’m fucking guaranteed to die!?” he asked incredulously. But a moment later, he managed to compose himself. This was far from the first time he found himself facing impossible odds. Sure, he was fucked to absurd degrees this time, but it wasn’t completely over yet. 

Without needing any further egging, he focused. There was no time to meditate or calm down. He raised his scythe. Fueled by desperate panic and guided by instinct, he slashed down, concentrating every shred of understanding about blood into a single attack. 

His soul ripped further, but this time, rather than the white shine of evaporating essence, he was greeted by a portal leading into a crimson landscape. How the flying fuck he managed to tear a hole into the primordial blood domain right in the middle of his soul, he didn’t know. He was pulling on understanding, on knowledge he wasn’t even aware he had, and by some miracle, it had worked. 

There was but a single moment of hesitation he could afford. And during that moment, he realized he had no clue what happened to Nahar. He also had no clue what exactly he could even find that would help fix his soul. 

But there was something to be said about having a single path forward. 

A calm descended upon him, taking every shred of panic, pain, and despair, and turning it into raw determination. 

He’d been here before. And as he’d proven time and time again, he had something of a talent for running for his life.

If there was any one person he trusted to pull him back from the brink, it was himself.

Freddy Stern’s soul projection, a little blue-robed reaper wielding a scythe and sporting a jagged cut down his very soul, flew through the crack into the primordial blood domain.

The kaleidoscope of soul cracks was replaced by a heavy smell of blood, a blinding red light, and the sight of an unfathomably massive blood construct. “Welcome back,” the titan said, its terrifying face twisting into a wicked grin. 

Freddy’s grip on his scythe tightened. He straightened his back, meeting the primordial construct's gaze. “Come at me.”

For a fleeting moment, the primordial construct’s grin widened. And then, the entire world turned red. 

A flood of blood, a veritable tsunami, washed over Freddy, catching him in the overpowering, overwhelming tide. The crack in his soul immediately widened as he was carried by the current. This wasn’t a physical disaster. It was a barrier of comprehension, carrying within it all the intricacies of how blood flowed.

If he understood the flow of blood perfectly, he could completely halt the tsunami. He didn’t, but he knew it well enough to calm the stream. In a moment, he went from feeling like he was stuck in a washing machine running full force to feeling like he was stuck in a washing machine running at half of its maximum speed. 

It still fucking sucked, but at least he wouldn’t get immediately crushed. 

The tide slowly ebbed, washing him ashore in the middle of bloody plains. Despite a notable expansion of the crack running through his projection, for what it was worth, he had passed the first obstacle. 

His second test didn’t wait for him to gather himself.

In a moment, he was surrounded by countless eidolons of blood. Oh. I’m completely fucked. 

They screamed in synchrony, shaking him to his very core but giving him a moment to collect himself. Eying one that looked like a skeletal golem of blood metal, he thought it felt… familiar. As if he knew, or rather, understood the concept it embodied. 

That understanding created a bridge, like a thread connecting him to the eidolon. Like a drowning man spotting driftwood, he latched onto it with all he had. He could feel his understanding of the concepts being weighed, almost like he was lifting a mental barbell.

He pushed.

At a mere glance, the eidolon shrunk, turning into a slightly above-average vestige in power. 

So I have to direct my understanding at them to weaken them.

That made the fight go from devastatingly hopeless to just ordinarily hopeless, a level of hopelessness Freddy was quite accustomed to. 

Without wasting a single moment, his glance flitted all across the battlefield. His soul strained as he felt like he was trying to speedrun solving the world’s most complex quiz, but he was rewarded for his efforts. Some of the eidolons he reduced to relatively unthreatening vestiges and remnants. A small but notable count of them were reduced to a still very dangerous spirit, and a couple that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend remained as fully-powered eidolons.

Oh I’m still utterly screwed. 

Their screams grew louder as they rushed towards him. He was beset on all sides, and before he could blink, one of the eidolons struck him. Through a miraculous bout of fortune, its attack was weakened by a second one that got in its way, but it still hit Freddy with all the might his soul was absolutely unequipped to handle. 

The crack running down his soul widened, nearly killing him then and there. Focusing every single shred of willpower he had, he forced his soul to remain in one piece, and in another moment of primal panic, he turned to the first eidolon he reduced to a vestige. 

By reflex, guided by his deep understanding of blood, he projected his comprehension at the weakened construct yet again, forcing it to shrink to almost nothing. 

Just before it could completely vanish, he ran out of understanding to throw at it.

So he rushed to figure out more.

Under any other circumstances, it would have taken him hours to unravel the remaining microconcepts. But with death being moments away, he brought forth a speed he hadn’t believed to be possible. In the blink of any eye, he made the construct vanish.

And then, it reappeared, back to its full power—

Before turning on its closest brethren, killing a weakened eidolon in a single blow.

Finally spotting a way out of the predicament, Freddy focused on all the weakest constructs he could spot. They were all tied to quite specific concepts, and he didn’t understand even a single one of them fully. Not until he threw the weight of his comprehension at them, at least. 

Now, he was tempted to presume that the threat of death was bringing out a latent potential he didn’t know he had. But while that was somewhat true, there was more to it. It was at that moment he realized something—this fight was a reward in its own right. Every concept he fully comprehended would push his understanding of blood by leaps and bounds. 

Dodging the attacks with every shred of speed he could muster, he focused on unraveling as many of the constructs as he could. As he won them over to his side, he used them to weaken others, which he could then comprehend even more easily.

In what felt like less than half a minute, his understanding of blood exploded, reaching levels that were leaps and bounds above what he was at currently. Before long, the fight was over.

“Impressive,” a booming voice echoed all around him. 

Freddy looked up, feeling surprisingly good about the sudden compliment. It wasn’t every day someone got praise from a foundational law of reality. “Uh… Thanks, I guess?”

The ground cracked not far from where he stood, causing him to flinch, and a pedestal lifted into the air. Upon it was what looked like a small wand. It took the form of a gnarled, twisting branch no longer than a foot holding a gem attached to one end. No doubt, it was a powerful cursed item. Possibly even unique. But it wasn’t going to save him.

With a bitter sigh, he looked around, trying to find where he would go next. 

But before he could move elsewhere himself, another sudden flood of blood washed over him. It looked a good deal more aggressive than the last one. It enveloped him, but before he could panic, something odd happened. As he threw the weight of his comprehension at it, it weakened until he only felt like he was being flushed down a massive toilet. 

In just that one fight, I’ve made unbelievable progress in understanding blood.

Before long, he was washed onto dry land again. The blood sank into the soil, practically vanishing as if it hadn’t even been there.

This time, he appeared inside a cavern. He sensed no immediate danger, but he was still cautious as he looked around. Not too far from where he’d been washed up was a cage of thorns. Within it was a vestige. But it was strange. It felt heavier on his senses. His eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at. 

It was a feeling he was familiar with. Sort of. It reminded him of Bloodshed back when it was a free remnant, but with an added instability that made his back tingle in excitement. It might not have been in the shape of a ball, but should he take it out, he knew it would take the form of one of the greatest treasures in existence. “A unique prime vestige!?” 

The rewards for entering a primordial blood domain were above even his already wild expectations. Getting a second talent was every archhuman’s wildest dream. That being said—

He scowled at the cage. Vaguely, he felt he could break through it, albeit with some difficulty.

But… so what? Should he succeed, what then? He didn’t even know what talent it held, and he highly doubted it would be one that would let him recover from the soul damage he had suffered. No… rather, he could feel that it would do nothing to save him. The concepts held within had no indication of it.

A bitter feeling filled him. Another miss. 

Worse yet, as he stood there, hesitating, the cage of thorns expanded slightly. Freddy looked around. The cavern only had so much space to it. If he took too long, the thorns would wrap him up.

Sighing, he stepped toward the cage, pushing a cautious hand forward. A thorn immediately expanded and stabbed into it, but despite the pain it caused, Freddy felt a bit of relief.

The family of concepts within the cage of thorns was one he was quite familiar with. It was Martyrdom. To bleed for a cause greater than one’s life. With little hesitation, he stepped forward. The thorns parted ahead of him like they weren’t even there, and in seconds, the challenge was over.

He sighed. The vestige before him, as expected, collapsed into a head-sized ball. 

Having to pass on it hurt almost as much as the soul damage he was suffering. 

He could already feel the churning of running blood as another tide prepared to wash him away. 

For a brief moment, he wondered whether the primordial concept of blood was toying with him, but… no. It wasn’t. He was just unlucky. A brief bout of panic crossed the core of his being as he wondered…

How many rewards would he have to skip until he found what he was looking for?

The tide of blood was a lot stronger this time around. Despite his newly enhanced understanding, he was being thrown around again, and the damage to his soul got worse. This time, he was thrown into the middle of a forest of crimson trees. It was another fight, but against a single opponent. It was a relatively weak vestige.

It took the form of a churning mass of viscous blood as it lazily strode towards him.

However, rather than relief, he felt panic. 

Because the concept within echoed loudly in Freddy’s mind. It was a powerful concept of blood loss—something that got a lot worse with time. He tried throwing his comprehension against it, but this wasn’t that kind of test. It didn’t work. He slashed down, only to find that his attack was completely ineffective.

Rather than fight, he turned around and fled. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—”

The vestige released a keening vail, one that started out weak and then got exponentially louder as the creature rapidly grew in strength.

The path through the forest was twisted, and not just in a physical sense. This was a maze. Try as he may, Freddy couldn’t figure out the point of this test. Worse yet was the fact that he had already started the trial—he couldn’t simply leave anymore, not without finding his reward.

Doing his best to remain calm, he navigated the twisted paths, cross-referencing them with everything he knew about blood as the thing chasing him got louder and louder.

Perhaps the path he had to take resembled the cardiovascular system somehow? It was a stretch, but it was the only thing he could think of. 

Suddenly, he got a rather crazy idea. An insane one, even.

What was blood loss? It was the gradual draining of blood that eventually resulted in death. But only for some creatures. What if the thing losing blood was, say, undead? It wasn’t a concept directly related to blood, but as he already figured out, everything was connected.

Despite his instincts screaming at him, he slowed down, and then suddenly came to a standstill. Taking deep breaths, he directed his understanding of blood.

“I’m an undead…” he muttered, hoping it would help him guide his thoughts along. “Blood Loss can’t kill me.” 

Just when he was about to start thinking this was a stupid idea, a bony arm broke through the soil right beside his foot. He flinched, but continued to focus. Blood Loss’s screams got louder, but he ignored them. Slowly, a number of skeletons made their way out of the dirt and walked over to him. Then, one by one, they hugged him.

It didn’t take long for him to be fully buried in the embrace of numerous undead.

His mind churned in terror as he felt Blood Loss rapidly approaching. It was already at the power of a pretty strong spirit, enough to seriously threaten his life. But then, rather than tearing through the bones until it reached him, it simply ran right past him, leaving him alone.

He waited for a while, but there was no churning of blood. He hadn’t passed the trial yet.

Gulping, he extracted himself from his cocoon of bone and ran back where he came from, eventually reaching the same place he had started. Then, he stepped past it, to a place “before” Blood Loss.

The ground cracked open again, and another pedestal rose. Relief flooded him as he realized the trial was actually over. But he suspended that relief until after seeing what he got. 

As soon as his eyes graced the item, he cursed, “Son of a bitch!” This time, the pedestal held a rusty iron breastplate.

Intuitively, he understood that every reward he rejected made the following one better. Which was why he was so incensed. “I refuse to believe a cursed item is better than a second talent! Give me something else!”

But despite his childish antics, his reward remained the same. Though he could have sworn he heard a distant chuckle.

Suppressing further curses, he focused on the item while waiting to be taken to the next trial. This was… a lot more intense than the wand. Like, a lot. Conventional wisdom—or, rather, everything he knew about ether—made him believe that there was no way a mere cursed item could be superior to a second talent. 

It was a tool. One that could break or otherwise be lost. A talent, even with a lesser effect, would stay and grow with him until the moment he died. Something that became a part of his soul would always be more valuable than something he draped over himself…

Or would it?

Whether he disagreed or not, the primordial concept of blood judged this to be better than a second talent. Maybe the talent tied to that prime was awful? Even then, it would grow with each star. But this… it was a real blow to his current perspective on things.

Before he could get too deep into his musings, the churning of blood got louder, and the flood of blood washed over him again. The intensity of the flood had gotten a lot greater. It wasn’t just a bit stronger than the last time—it was like he was crossing into a qualitatively different part of the trial.

Oh shi—

He cursed as the force of the tide suddenly doubled, then tripled, then became so powerful he lost all control of how he was spiraling. The crack through his projection widened beyond what he could handle, and a branching crack spiderwebbed all across the side of his projection. At some point, he washed up again, face down in the crimson soil, the scent of metal and faint rot, or rather, the idea of it, filling his whole being. 

He could barely get up anymore. 

A weak laugh escaped from beneath the hood of his cloak.

If there was a fight, or any kind of running involved, he was through. Frankly, he felt he was through no matter what. But he still forced himself up to his feet and looked around. “Are you joking?”

Up a short flight of stairs leading to the top of a hill was a temple. It was about the size of a two-story house, built of faintly pink stone, large, domineering pillars standing tall before the entrance. Just looking at it, he could already tell that this was no ordinary trial. After all, the pressure exuding from it was thousands of times greater than literally anything he had ever felt, including the aura of the empress herself.

“Screw the temple,” he said, his eyes moving down. “Can I even get up the stairs?”

He hobbled over and tried. Despite the fact that he could genuinely barely go up, he somehow powered through the agony of the cracks continuing to spread across his soul; if for any reason, because he didn’t want a damned flight of stairs to be the thing to do him in. After a blur of struggle, he found himself at his goal, standing right in front of the way in.

The inside of the temple was pitch dark, almost reminding him of an entrance to an instance dungeon. Seeing no reason to stall, he limped forward, pushing his way in. There was no barrier of any sort. Rather, the inside of the temple was just that dark.

He lost track of time as he pushed forward. By this point, he was convinced that time inside the primordial blood domain didn’t pass at the same speed as the outside world—otherwise, his soul damage would have done him in a long time ago. And that was only if he wasn’t still in danger of dying at Nahar’s hands.

Eventually, he spotted a faint speck of light. He moved towards it. Gradually, it grew in his eyes, and as he realized what he was looking at, he released an amused snort. 

There was a small, illuminated platform of red soil, an ethereal light shining down on it. Right in the middle of it was a beautiful rose. Its crimson petals shimmered in the light, and it was held upon a perfectly straight stalk of white, which was faintly pulsing, almost like a vein.

The rose only occupied his attention for a moment. What was more interesting were the two tall sentient ether constructs standing beside it, keeping guard. 

Both were skeletons. The bones on the left one were seemingly painted, almost ritualistically, with highlights of red, white the right one was fully crimson. The left one was clad in white armor, with red cloth accenting the joints, while the right one wore silky, priestly, red robes, accented in white and gold. The left figure had a large greatsword sheathed at the hip while the right figure was unarmed, keeping its hands tucked within the sleeves of opposing arms.

They were big. Massive, even. The power roiling off of them was immense. These weren’t eidolons. 

They were asura. 

Freddy took the whole scene in. As he did, his surprise made him pause. Then, he barked out a relieved laugh.

There was no other point where he felt so grateful to be burdened by the fate borne of his desire. Indeed, it threw challenges at him. Unfair ones, ones beyond all reason. But just the same, it threw at him rewards. 

And this one, well, it was almost too good to be true.

He made it to the illuminated patch of soil and looked down. In a single step, he would move off the darkness and step into the light. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. And then, he made the plunge. 

The moment his cracked foot made contact with the dirt, the two figures leaped into action. The figure on the left—Slaughter, if he was right—put its greatsword to his neck, threatening to remove his head should he take even a single step forward. 

Meanwhile the figure on the right—Bloodshed, if he was correct, and he knew that he was—pulled its hands out of the sleeves and raised them, conjuring a small, aggressive ball of acid and pointing it in his direction.

Their actions were swift, regal, bearing the demeanor of those delivering justice.

He briefly eyed the asura of Bloodshed. It wasn’t the Bloodshed he was familiar with. Same concept, different entity. But it was the exact hint he needed to immediately be able to tell what’s up.

Slaughter looked down on him, its eyes gazing at him with an intensity that made him shiver. “You must answer a question before you pass. Tell me, what is the nature of—”

“Before we go any further, pal,” Freddy interrupted, “let’s drop the pretense first.” He straightened his back. Despite the immense pressure he was under, he felt no fear. 

He didn’t know what kind of construct the rose was. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. 

But he did know what concept it was tied to.

Oh, he was quite intimate with it.

Challenge and reward. Struggle and power. An action, and its consequence.

There were many ways to look at the foundational principle that governs all of ether.

What was Slaughter? 

It was tearing a heart out. Crushing a skull. Slitting a throat. 

What was Bloodshed?

It was the supple flesh upon a corpse. The pilfered treasure. The bloodstained battlefield.

He knew this process really well. Well enough to tell truth apart from lie. “I’ve seen the Cycle of Slaughter and Bloodshed,” Freddy declared. “This ain’t it, chief.” He eyed the rose for another moment, feeling sick to the stomach. “Get this shit off my sight.”

The world froze for a long moment. Had he been any less confident, he’d have shit himself in fear. But he knew he was right. 

A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed.

The scene before him suddenly transformed.

What had a moment ago been a regal duo of guardians had now become a savage pair of monsters. 

Slaughter’s armor transformed from the pearly white into a rusty, dented, chipped plate that had seen countless battles, and its greatsword became an old axe. The clean, methodical lines upon its bones were replaced with scattered splatters of blood, and its skull face twisted into a grin. 

Bloodshed transformed into something a lot closer to the Bloodshed Freddy was familiar with, if a hundred times more horrifying. Its shawl was thick, black, and literally flowing with blood. Its crimson eyes were hidden beneath a shadowy hood, which revealed little more than the red glow and a pearly set of unnaturally white teeth.

But the most startling transformation was that of the rose. 

Gone was the beauty. Gone was the order.

The straight, white stalk morphed into a twisted, fleshy vein, which pulsed even harder, and the red flower morphed into a thick black growth, with what looked like a grinning, golden-lipped mouth drawn across it. 

Then, those mouths opened. Then, they started to laugh, each set slightly off-pitch compared to the others, creating an eerie, awful cacophony of mockery. The creepy rose twisted and rooted itself, then started to slither towards Freddy like a snake. 

It stopped right before him as the two asuras moved out of the way to let it through. “You need me,” one of the mouths declared, others still cackling. “You don’t even have a choice.”

Freddy hesitated. “Will you heal my soul?”

“I wonder,” the grin on every single mouth widened as the laughter intensified. It inched closer. “Take me. Find out.”

The fists of his projection clenched as he released a sigh. This thing was right. He had no choice but to take the risk. 

What exactly he was even agreeing to, he didn’t know. But for some reason, he had a feeling he would be paying a price for this power. “I understand.” Slowly, he reached out, grabbing the rose by the thorny, pulsing stalk-vein. And in the next moment, he woke up. 

The sound of a trumpet pitched through his right eye, and he shouted. 

Sophia, who was carrying him, said something in a panic, but he couldn’t understand a single word. 

Master! Focus!

He employed every shred of willpower his wounded mind and soul could muster, and looked down at his hand. There, clutched within his grasp, was the rose, grinning expectantly. In reality, it was only about as thick as a fat worm and about the length of a foot.

He couldn’t for the life of him string two words together, so he ended up mumbling a series of groans and grunts that roughly translated to “I accept you into my soul.”

But the rose didn’t move. “Where’s the hurry?” it asked, its voice projecting straight into his mind as it toyed with him. “I think I’m feeling a little hungry. Tell me, do you have anything I could snack on?”

Freddy had a bad feeling about this. He again sputtered something utterly unintelligible at the construct, but he was trying to say, “What the hell do you want?”

“Hmm… let me think. How about—” a tremendous impact exploded right behind Freddy and Sophia. They were thrown forward, tumbling as a wave of dust washed over them.

Freddy looked up, just barely managing to piece together what was happening. As he did, his gut clenched in panic. 

Nahar was upon them. Bloodshed was pushing him back, but with its giant form, it wouldn’t be able to do much against the small, nimble target. Sophia picked him back up and continued running.

Panicked, he whirred back towards the rose, out of time for bullshit.

The rose, in contrast, was in no hurry. “I think that pendant around your neck would be quite delectable.” 

Gritting his teeth, he took off the Warrior King’s Pendant and handed it to the rose. The construct unfurled its black, golden-lipped petals to reveal a circular maw of jagged teeth. Then, it sucked the cursed item out of Freddy’s hand. “Good. Now the ring.”

Freddy froze as that demand. The ring? It couldn’t possibly—

“The blood ring,” it specified.

He found himself hesitating. Not only was this one of his most valuable possessions, it was the only way he could release Bloodshed. As he struggled to bring himself to part with it, Bloodshed screamed into his mind, Don’t hesitate, Master!

 A bitter taste rising up his throat, he fed the ring some blood, enough to make it release the bite on his finger and slip off, where it fell into a quick snake-link lunge by the rose, who swallowed it, the many mouths upon it moaning in pleasure. “Delicious. Now, what was it you said? You accept me into your soul?”

He garbled his assent. 

“Good. Now braaaace yourseeeeelf,” several voices chorused in harmony. “This will only hurt enough to drive you mad.” It dug into the palm of his hand, delivering on its promise of pain. 

Now, if Reginald was here, he could specify exactly which channel the construct was taking to Freddy’s soul. Freddy however, only knew it as the one that hurt like all fucking hell when a thorny, worm-thick thing slithered into it. And when it reached his soul, that pain only multiplied. Exponentially.

Stars swam in his vision and a horrible noise, like a million plates being scraped by forks, sounded in his ears. He flitted in and out of consciousness as the cracks in his soul closed. But this was no healing—his soul was being stitched together, which would be enough to keep him alive, but far from enough to truly undo the damage he’d suffered. 

It also caused, by far, the worst pain he’d ever felt.

The process was short, only taking a few seconds, and then, he was mentally forced into his ethercosm. There, he watched his soul construct suddenly appear. What’s happening?

He watched the rose float around it for a few moments, and then, with a move that made Freddy’s eyes shoot wide open, it swallowed it whole. Something forced him out of his ethercosm, and he opened his eyes with a ragged gasp. Turning, he looked at Sophia, who was beyond panicked and sweaty as hell as she ran for all she was worth. “I can run on my own,” he said.

She whirred. Her expression was momentarily overtaken by joy and relief, only to immediately sink back into panic. They weren’t exactly safe enough to celebrate his sudden revival.

Sophia dropped him to the ground, and he got up, running beside her. He wasn’t exactly battle-ready, even if he was mostly stable. His soul throbbed in pain, and he could sense that using abilities was dangerous in this current state. With the threat biting at their heels, he didn’t have a single moment to even check what the hell exactly happened to his poor scythe.

He was terribly skinny. Nearly all his muscle mass had evaporated, but at least he could go faster now.

Thus, in a wordless agreement, they both made the same decision. Run. As fast as their legs could take them.

Nahar would probably catch up with them anyway, but away gave them much better chances of survival than towards.

“What the hell happened!?” Freddy asked. 

“How am I supposed to know?” Sophia retorted. “I came to find you pinned to the street, a very pissed-off freak trying to skewer your brains. What did you do?”

“Long story!”

They were bolting straight down the street, the sounds of Bloodshed vs Nahar deafening them despite the fight being a few blocks away by now.

“And what’s with the freakin’ tattoo!?” she suddenly asked, shouting over the noise of buildings being turned to rubble.

“The what?” he asked.

She scowled and then pointed at his left arm. 

He looked down. His breath caught in his throat. 

Starting from his palm, a black, coiling shape, with closed, golden-lipped mouths scattered throughout it, spiraled all around his arm like a snake. It came to an end behind his left shoulder, and then extended further in a wide, curved scythe blade that went over his left trap, down his left pec, and under his lat. “What the fuck is this?” The moment he focused on it, something startling happened. 

The tattoo moved. In a flash, it uncoiled around his arm, gathering at his palm, where it then suddenly transformed into a massive scythe. 

Both their eyes shot wide open. 

The scythe was pitch-black, with the same golden mouth motif as what could be seen on the tattoo. But rather than being closed, the mouths now opened, with blood dripping down them, laughter sounding out.

Sophia turned to Freddy. “Holy crap dude. Just… what the hell?”

He turned to her. “I’m as confused as you are.”

“There, there,” one of the mouths said, startling both of them. “I know your tiny brains can hardly comprehend what you’re seeing, but it’s really not that complicated. I’m your soul construct now. We’ll have so much fun together.”

Sophia nearly tripped. “You can use your soul construct in reality!?”

“Already told you, as confused as you are!” 

Their argument was interrupted by a sudden crunching sound that made Freddy’s blood freeze in his veins. He turned around, only to spot Bloodshed tipping on one side, a broken leg unable to keep it up. “We’re so fucked.” In a rather poignant confirmation of his words, the towering aura of Nahar suddenly pointed directly at them like a laser. 

His voice echoed a moment later. “Found you!”

Now, Freddy remembered exactly nothing that happened after he offered his soul up for the Unholy Blessing. But clearly, whatever he’d done, Nahar was quite unhappy with him.

Panicked, he reflexively used his Hydraulic Flex. Instantly, he felt a number of small cracks open in his soul and he released a sudden shout of agony. 

“Jesus, are you okay?” Sophia asked.

“I’m not okay!” Freddy said, nearly in tears. “I’m really not okay!”

“Hey,” the scythe called, all of its many mouths still grinning. “Aren’t you curious about what I can do?”

Freddy looked at the soul construct in his hands. “Whatever it is, it better be amazing!”

The laughter intensified. “Try me, then. Summon your Sanguine Avenger. Double-starred, please.”

Scowling, Freddy was about to retort with the many problems he had with that request, but seeing how they were seconds away from death falling upon them, he complied. Agony shot through his soul again, but he bared it as he double-starred Sanguine Avenger. The weapon appeared in his free hand, and then almost toppled him with the weight that was far too much for his current size. 

But before he could panic and regret his decision, he felt his mind drift to the scythe in his other hand. On instinct, he moved the scythe and pressed it to the sword of blood metal. 

The scythe melted into a shadowy substance and enveloped the sword.

Immediately, the weapon that felt overwhelmingly heavy seemingly became as light as hollow plywood. “What the…?”

Something exploded behind them.

Freddy whirred, only to spot Nahar flying through the air towards them. “Incoming!” He roughly pushed Sophia out of the way, sending her tumbling, as he reflexively swung his sword to intercept Nahar. He didn’t use any abilities. He couldn’t. His swing was even clumsy, given that his muscle memory was accustomed to far more weight. 

Nahar raised a spear of blood to block the impact, an expectant grin on his face betraying his intention to cut Freddy’s head off the moment his attack was deflected. That grin was wiped when the almost hundred-kilo heavy sword smashed into his guard with the speed of an arrow. 

An undignified grunt escaped Nahar’s lips, and the spear he used to block the impact cracked where the two weapons met: he was sent flying to the side like a kite with its string cut. 

The man skittered across the asphalt, before flipping through the air and rising to his feet, a manic look in his eyes.

Freddy glanced at Sophia, his eyes sending a clear message. She shook her head, refusing to run. “You’ll die,” he mouthed at her. 

“You need help,” she insisted. 

He clicked his tongue as he turned to face Nahar again. 

The laughter coming from his sword intensified. They mouths opened, taunting Nahar in off-pitch voices, “Weakling!”

“Pathetic!”

“Just like your father!”

Nahar’s expression darkened.

Now, it wasn’t like the man had looked particularly clean the last time Freddy saw him, but now, he looked positively disheveled. His whole body was caked in blood, the state of his skin somehow having gotten even worse, and judging by the lack of abilities being used, he was probably either tapped out, or completely out of essence. His breath was heavy. He was exhausted. 

Still, this was a fight Freddy wouldn’t win easily. Freddy wasn’t exactly in top shape, either. The difference in physical capability between them was far too great. 

But he’d gone through way too much shit to give up now.

Just another set of overwhelming odds to overcome. No big deal.

Freddy’s mindset shifted. He needed to take every advantage he could get. He cracked a smile. Not to be outdone by his weapon, he decided to throw a couple of taunts of his own “I see you liked my little present. Hope I wasn’t too rough with you.”

“What the hell is that thing?” Nahar asked, his eyes locked on the cackling sword. 

“Oh, this?” Freddy raised it, showcasing just how weightless it was in his hands, despite its immense mass. “Just the thing I’ll use to cut your head off.”

Nahar snarled, “You want to play mind games with me, bitch?” He charged forward—

Right towards Sophia. 

Every hair in Freddy’s body stood on end as he watched the man deliver a punch right at Sophia’s midsection. She flew back like a kite with its strings cut, leaving a long, bloody trail across the road as she spun, her entire body broken, her skin scraping off from all the friction. 

Freddy tried his best to remain calm. This was Sophia, after all. Given Nahar didn’t go for the head, he might as well not have done anything at all. But still— “How fucking dare youl!?” he screamed as if his entire world was coming to an end. You’ve thrown me off my game, Nahar. Now come. Drop your guard.

Nahar laughed. “She actually survived that.” He turned to Freddy, a wide grin splitting his face apart. “That’s gotta hurt. I hope she lives a bit longer after I’m done with you.”

Freddy didn’t need to fake the scowl. He dropped his sword into a low stance, grabbing the long handle with both hands, getting into position to swing as hard as he could. “Are you coming or not?”

Nahar raised his sword. Then, without a word, he leapt forward, moving so fast Freddy stood no chance of getting out of the way. But he wasn’t planning to. 

Sanguine Avenger sang as it flashed forward, its glossy black surface leaving a dark smear with golden trails as it flew through the air.

This time, Nahar was prepared to dodge. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was the sudden appearance of a black tendril that caught his leg, making him stumble. Having not been expecting that to happen, Nahar was in the middle of trying to skewer Freddy, and he’d put up zero defense against the sword that was about to slam into his shoulder.

The weapon landed with a deafening crunch of bone being turned to dust, and the squelch of flesh being cut. The man’s shoulder crumpled. The impact was so unexpectedly devastating that both Nahar and Freddy were stunned, sharing a bewildered look as the same thought flashed through their minds:

Holy fucking shit.

Nahar recovered a moment later, going through with his attack and putting a new hole in Freddy’s stomach. He pulled and roughly tore the spear out, disemboweling Freddy in a decisive counterattack. Judging by the grin on his face, he thought the fight was over.

But his grin was matched by every mouth on the sword. An energy moved from the wound into the sword, and the mouths upon it shrieked in ungodly, terrifying voices. “You beetteer defeend yourseelf!” 

Nahar’s twisted face morphed into the picture of terror as the sword shot up and then came swinging down at his face. He raised his forearms to defend himself. Both his arms were broken by the impact, and the ground beneath his feet exploded as blood bubbled around his nose and mouth. 

Nahar was a four-star. Not only that, he had a talent that enhanced his physique. Thus, the vitality in his body was abundant, and the incredible amount of damage Freddy did was enough to seal the wound in his stomach. He was still missing a few organs, but he no longer had a gaping hole in his side.

Seeing that Nahar was still stunned, Freddy raised the sword up and swung it down again, aiming at the head once more, his opponent having no unbroken arms to guard himself with. Nahar tried to leap out of the way, but another black tendril stuck to his side, tying him to a nearby signpost and keeping him in place long enough for Freddy’s attack to land, turning his collarbone into bone glitter and leaving a foot-deep cut into it. 

Nahar growled, madness apparent in his face. “Where the fuck are you hiding!?” he shouted at seemingly nobody.

“I’m right here,” a woman's voice suddenly came from right behind the man. Then, a black blade cut right through his neck, divorcing his head from his body. 

Freddy stared in shock as he watched Emily grab Nahar’s head, shove it into some kind of box, then press a button, throw the box as far as humanly possible, using her hair as an improvised sling, then extract an iron maiden from her ring, which she threw Nahar’s body into, then locked with some kind of special enchantment. 

The box with Nahar’s head suddenly exploded a couple of blocks away, and with enough force to level a building.

A sudden, unbelievable burst of essence flooded Freddy’s soul. It ached a bit, but in a good way. That confirmed it. 

Nahar was finally dead. 

“Uh…” Freddy muttered.

“Extra insurance,” Emily said, shrugging. “You never know with opponents like this. You have to make extra sure they’re dead.” She gave him a pointed look. “That being said”—her look grew conflicted as she met his gaze—”you are a monster.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Freddy chuckled, relief flooding him as he sagged, leaning against the sword for support. “To be honest, I thought you’d run away.”

“Good,” she said. “Better than having you betray that I’m there.”

“Fair enough.” Sweat poured down his body. He felt incredibly thirsty. It had been a while since that last happened. “Thanks for the help.”

“No. Thank you.” She grinned. “Let me tell you something, having a four-star kill on the record is gonna do wonders for my career.”

Freddy snorted. “Congratulations.”

She squinted at him. “How humble of you. You’re acting like you didn’t just almost single-handedly beat the everliving shit out a supercharged four-star.”

“Well, let’s just say I’ve paid a heavy price for it.” He winced, trying not to think about the soul damage and what it would do to his development. “And even then, I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“I dunno about that…” she muttered, squinting her eyes at him and briefly glancing at his sword. “That thing is horrifying. What is it?”

“If I knew, I would tell you.”

She laughed, then turned sullen. “And sorry about your friend. He got to her before I could stop him.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Sophia’s voice suddenly sounded from down the street as she got up, practically unscathed. “It takes more than that to kill me.”

Emily stared blankly at her for a few moments. “You know… on any other day, seeing a one-star take that kind of punishment and then get up a minute later as if nothing had happened would be enough to shock me speechless.”

Freddy gave Sophia a nervous look, then turned it Emily’s way. “Hey, uh—”

“Don’t worry. I won’t yap.” Emily chuckled. “I’m a pretty delicate girl, you know? I don’t run around spilling people’s secrets like it’s nothing. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned around, raising her hands in the air. Then, she released an inappropriately joyful shout as her laughter sounded out. “I did it!”

Freddy wished he felt even a shred of the joy she did. 

Instead, he turned around, beholding the immense devastation of the city around him. His lips turned into a deep frown. Before he could ruminate for long, a shadow squirmed not too far from him, and a bewildered Matt Canstone stumbled out of it. 

The man’s hair was matted with sweat, and he was covered in filth and blood. He took one look at Nahar’s body and his eyes widened into saucers. “Im… Impossible! You killed…” He glanced at Freddy and Sophia. “Dear god.” A startled laugh escaped his lips. “

Freddy kept his mouth shut for a long moment as he swallowed his accusations. He felt like lashing out and interrogating the man as to where the hell he’d been, but from the looks of it, he hadn’t been wasting time. 

A moment later, Travis came leaping down from a nearby rooftop, and again, a similar look of shock crossed his face, too. He was even more of a mess than Canstone, and he even sported a few nasty injuries.

Freddy felt his jaw unclench. “Where were you two?” he asked, his voice free of accusation. 

The two men shared a look. Matt nodded and Travis turned to face Freddy. “We had kept this a secret from you, but for a while, we have been building secret tunnels under the city.”

Freddy’s eyes shot wide open.

Matt stepped in. “We couldn’t afford the information leaking into the wrong hands. Not with the threat of the ether virus.” He looked guilty for a moment. “We didn’t think you’d give the secret away, but if anyone was being observed, it would be you.”

Freddy’s throat tightened. “So… you’ve—” 

“Some,” Travis said, his lips twisting into a deep frown. “We managed to save some people. But no more than a couple thousand. They’re safe and sound in the secret passage beneath Valhalla.” He deflated, a defeated look in his eyes. “We had hoped to do far more than this, but some of the tunnels had been found by the monsters burrowing beneath the city, cutting us off.” His voice grew raspy. “If only…”

“You did good,” Freddy said. “A good number of people are being taken out of the city as we speak. That being said, we should catch up with them and have them turn back.”

“I know this isn’t the right time to butt in,” Emily said, butting in anyway,” but you should look on the bright side!” She made an exaggerated gesture at Nahar’s corpse. “We killed this fucker! That alone probably saved an uncountable number of lives. Cheer up a bit!”

While she wasn’t wrong, it didn’t exactly improve anyone’s mood. 

The death toll was immense. 

Her attempt at consoling them fell flat on its face as the smile on her face vanished. “Tough crowd, geez” She crossed her arms. 

“Let’s get going—” Freddy started, only for something to interrupt him.

Everyone turned in the direction of a heavily injured man running towards them at incredible speed. 

Freddy’s blood ran cold as he realized who it was. It was the adjudicator. And he was now a two-star. He had used his spirit ability again.

He stopped before them as his power ran out, stumbling to the ground. He muttered something, similar to how Freddy could string words together when he was suffering from the worst of the soul damage. 

They didn’t hesitate.

Sophia quickly healed his physical injuries, and Matt picked him up. All of them ran, as quickly as humanly possible, in the direction of the people fleeing the city. The run there felt like it took an eternity. As they left the city, they immediately spotted the muddy trail of trampled snow—the tracks of the people who had been fleeing.

And a trail of massive footprints heading in their direction.

A harrowing thought passed through Freddy’s mind, and he realized that Sophia had grown pale. They had no time to argue as they rushed forth, and before long, they crested a hill, finally catching up to the survivors.

Or what was left of them. 

Scattering in every direction were the civilians, in the middle of being hunted by none other than Sophia’s giant flesh golem. It tore through the people like they were nothing but ants, trampling them into the soil with a childlike excitement. 

They exploded into action. 

Emily’s soul lit up with two stars, and a huge binding restrained the creature. Freddy leaped at it, bringing his empowered sword down dozens of times and chopping through the bone plating, severing its head. That wasn’t enough to kill the creature. Sophia hadn’t made it nearly so fragile.

They had to cut its legs and arms to get it to stop moving, before Sophia, her hands shaking profusely, dug into the precise spots holding the creature’s split central nervous system.

Once it finally died, they simply stood there in a complete, baffled silence, Sophia shaking with quiet, distressed sobs. “I didn’t—”

“What are you waiting for!?” Freddy shouted. “Hurry! Save who you can!”

She ran. They found as many injured survivors as they could, including a terribly battered Lucas. The creature had stomped on him, it seemed. Every bone in his body was cracked or broken, and his internals were mush, other than the brain that was protected inside his thick skull. If he wasn’t undead, he’d be a goner. 

Georgie was in a similar situation. Given by the signs of charring on the golem’s bone, she had put up a good fight, likely stalling the creature enough for a good number of people to scatter. She was even luckier than Lucas, as somehow, despite her talent, she was in an even worse state. Still, Sophia had no trouble fixing her up.

She strained her talent until she was crying blood, and overused her essence until her body was sprouting random mutations. 

Nobody said anything about Sophia’s seemingly godlike healing abilities. 

Eventually, Freddy had to stop her before she killed herself. “That’s enough,” he said, grabbing her arm to stop her for reaching for a woman on the brink of death. The act pained him, and Sophia thrashed, protesting his decision. 

He had to hold her long enough for the woman to die before Sophia finally gave up.

She only saved a little under a hundred people. Many had fled, scattering into the forest to save themselves. Whether they’d actually survive being lost in the woods by themselves before someone found them was questionable.

As for everyone who had failed to flee the undead…

“I didn’t…” she muttered in a daze. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” he said, his words sounding hollow even to himself. “If it wasn’t for you, everyone would be dead anyway, Sophia. It’s okay.”

“No, no, no, no, no…”

He hushed her, trying to get her to stop panicking, before finally shouting, “Listen to me!” He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her out of her stupor. “You’re a hero, Sophia.”

She pushed him away, still shaking her head. Her eyes were vacant. “No…” That was the last thing she said as she turned around and ran into the distance. 

Freddy wanted to chase after her, but his knees lost all strength as he fell forward, slumping in the muddy snow. As he knelt there, watching her run away, his mind spun itself into a daze.

He was the one who had convinced her to start making undead. Rationally, he knew it had been for the best. But at that moment, surrounded by the corpses of the people he had given up his very life to save, he had nothing to say. 

Sophia eventually crested a distant hill. Nobody chased after her. 

He had nothing to say at all.

***

Soul damage had a way of making things feel insignificant. 

Colors lost their luster. Music was reduced to noise. But to Freddy, it was a small blessing. 

The apathy came in handy in the face of so much horror.

With Nahar’s death, the situation with the monster horde didn’t necessarily come to a close, but it did come to a major turning point. The square-eye ether virus was still spreading, but at the very least, nothing was there to direct the monsters anymore. 

The encirclement surrounding Repentawa slowly dissipated, with many of the monsters turning on each other now that they were no longer being directed. 

For what it was worth, the final death toll ended up being a lot less devastating than they initially expected. Around eighty thousand survivors were tallied up. That was still a small minority of the people who had been in the city, but it was far more than they expected to find.

People hadn’t been sitting around and passively waiting for death to come knocking on their door, nor did they put much faith in the evacuation plan the city had put together. The bone-deep skepticism and pessimism that was deeply rooted in the people of the Northern Belt had saved untold lives. 

Throughout the last few months, many businesses had cropped up offering a plethora of services to help people survive if worse came to worst. From turning bathrooms into improvised bunkers, to selling reinforced closets, to repurposing coffins as a makeshift shelter, there were a number of creative methods people resorted to. 

Even if it was the worst in recorded history, this wasn’t the first time this region was hit by a monster horde.

Still, it was hard being particularly excited about those who had lived when the streets were littered with those who hadn’t. Were it not cold enough to freeze the corpses, the city would be at serious threat of a major disease outbreak.

The following two weeks passed in a daze for Freddy. He helped as much as he could, but that only lasted a few days. The soul damage he had suffered soon made life impossible for him. He was in constant pain. At times, he randomly lost consciousness. 

Even with his physique, passing out in the cold could be life threatening. With how haggard he looked, it would be easy enough to confuse him for just another corpse, so it was likely nobody would even realize he needed help.

Unexpectedly, the building where he owned an apartment was perfectly intact. It wasn’t even particularly miraculous. It wasn’t like the monsters had been throwing bombs around. Most of the buildings had come out with surface-level damage at most—broken windows, torn-up facades, busted doors—but he had been fully expecting to find a pile of rubble waiting for him.

It would have been the perfect shit-cherry to top the giant shit-cake of how everything had played out. 

He locked himself inside, spending most of his time in bed to recuperate. 

While he was awake, he’d just stare blankly at the ceiling. He was hit by frequent attacks, mainly losing all sense of self, those damned trumpets, and a number of other sensory illusions. As time passed, it got a little better. But his soul damage wasn’t healing. And it wouldn’t, not without a lot of help.

Deep within his ethercosm, his stars roiled. It wasn’t fully there yet, but there was flickering. He was showing early signs of being ready for ascension. He would have to get his soul healed first, but as soon as he did, it wouldn’t take much to move on to the third star.

He really wanted to feel happy about this. But it was hard to care. About… anything. 

Around two weeks after Nahar’s death, he received a knock on the door. He opened it, unsurprised by who he saw there.

It was the adjudicator, and he was followed by Matt, Travis, Emily, and Georige.

He let them in without a word, and they wordlessly made their way into the living room.

The adjudicator looked pretty good, actually. Sophia had healed him thoroughly, even undoing some of the signs of aging the man had been showing. His soul damage had been far less severe than Freddy’s, and unsurprisingly, the man had kept a potent soul-healing treasure on his person, just in case something like this happened.

There was a brief moment where Freddy felt furious that the man hadn’t given it to him, given how much worse of a state he was in. But that moment quickly passed. He knew damn well he wouldn’t have been willing to give such a thing up to someone else if he had it.

Georgie had lost her signature thin scars her body used to be covered by. Again, it was Sophia’s healing at work.

While they didn’t announce the purpose of their visit, Freddy had a feeling he knew why they were there.

They all sat down at the table, waiting in silence for a few tense moments.

“I think you should be able to guess why we’re all gathered here,” the adjudicator said.

Freddy shot him a weak smile. “Because of my friend, huh?”

The adjudicator nodded. “You understand just how illegal her talent is, correct?”

Freddy gave a weak nod. 

“And you kept it a secret?”

Freddy nodded more firmly. He wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done.

The adjudicator sighed. “Very well.”

“Are you here to detain me?” Freddy asked, staring deep into the man’s soul. His gaze betrayed that he wouldn’t go along peacefully.

“No,” the man declared. “I just wanted to clear things up with you.” He straightened his back, meeting Freddy’s gaze. “As far as I’m concerned, I didn’t see shit.”

Freddy blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He chuckled. “We’ve already agreed on a story. Given my current state, I will be replaced and there will be an investigation about what exactly happened. As far as any of us are concerned, your friend doesn’t even exist. The golem was brought forth by Nahar and his ally.”

Freddy’s gaze flickered between them. “Why?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Because the two of you saved the day, dumbass. Back when you fought Nahar, she had used the golem as a distraction to save you from getting a back alley lobotomy. Had she not done that, you’d have died, and nobody would have been able to stop Nahar. We’ll keep her situation a secret to make sure you don’t lose your head.”

Sighing, Freddy sank in on himself. He didn’t voice any thanks towards them. Instead, he glanced at Travis, who needed him to help with rebuilding. Then at Emily, who wanted a clean record with her contribution to the death of a four-star threat. The adjudicator, who could really use the money from Freddy’s organs if he ever wanted a chance to get back to the fourth star. Matt, who was explicitly sent here by Madame to invite Freddy. And finally, Georgie, who had a verbal agreement with him for a major project in the future.

Each person before him was acting with personal interest in mind. He could thank them to be nice. But he didn’t feel like it. Instead, he grunted in acknowledgement and nodded his head. “Good.”

They continued chatting about random topics, mainly about the recovery efforts, and Freddy mostly tuned them out, having little energy to pay attention. He instead simply sat there, looking as hollow and weathered as he felt. Rather than regaining weight, he had lost even more of it. He was all bones and skin.

They had left at some point. He didn’t remember seeing them out. Memory was a fickle thing with the kind of soul damage he had suffered. Before he even realized what happened, he was back in bed, staring emptily at the ceiling. For some reason, this interruption in his memory stung harder than others. He cried, weeping over the state he was in, overwhelmed by fear and anxiety. “Will I even be able to have this healed…?”

It was a question he had avoided asking himself. The answer was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. This wasn’t like physical, or even mental damage. Soul damage was notoriously tricky to undo. He had been trying to keep his chin up. He kept telling himself he had the money and influence to get access to nearly the best services the empire had to offer. 

He had been instrumental in killing Nahar, after all—a super-charged, double-talented four-star—while being merely at the peak of the second star himself.

From what he heard of the adjudicator, that alone was enough for the empire to consider him a critical asset worth nurturing.

But none of this mattered in the face of a terrible truth. He knew very little about soul damage. Before getting a proper diagnosis, his fate was up in the air.

And in the event that he couldn’t fully recover? It wasn’t just his growth that was at stake, here. He was severely disabled in his current state. Enjoying life in any capacity was impossible. Every waking day was a hollow nightmare, a mockery of life, void of all its joys and wonders.

It hit even harder because, with his talent, he had always felt invincible, like nothing could hurt him. 

At some point during the late hours of the night, another knock sounded at his door. He dragged himself out of bed, wondering who it was going to be. “If it's Lucas, I’m gonna kick him in the nuts,” he muttered, wanting to find his own words funny, but failing to.

He cracked the door open, taking a small peak first. To his shock, it was nobody he recognized. It was just some dude. He was a bit short and had an unusual build, with an odd face and not a strand of hair upon his bald head. Freddy scowled. “Who are you and what do you want?”

The dude looked to his left, and then his right, before leaning slightly forward and whispering in an all-too-familiar voice, “Can I come inside?”

Freddy’s eyes shot wide open as he abruptly pulled the door open, grabbed the man by his arm, and pulled him in, before giving him a tight, wordless hug. 

The man slowly returned the hug, and then, his body started to change. He shifted under Freddy’s arms, and slowly, a familiar, blonde shade of hair started growing out. 

Sophia didn’t say a word as she finished her transformation, simply waiting there. 

After a few dozen seconds, Freddy pulled away, his expression breaking down as he tried and failed to ask the question. 

“I’m fine,” she answered anyway, giving him a slightly off smile. “It was an accident.” She spun on her heel, turning in a clean one-eighty as she stopped, her back to him. Her fingers slowly met behind her back, intertwining as she took a jolly step forward. “Come on. I want to talk.” She headed off toward the living room. 

He should have known that something was off. But with all the soul damage messing with his thinking, he only felt relieved that she seemed to be over it. 

They sat together in the living room, and her hand gently cupped his chin. She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you want to keep the beard or not?”

He felt his breath catch as he realized what she was here for. For the first time in what felt like forever, he chuckled. “The more hair you can get rid of, the better,” he said, caressing his hairy forearm with his fingers. “I’m not a fan of being a hairy bastard.”

She chuckled back at him. “All right. Just relax.” 

He did, letting her work on him. He felt the essence shift his face back into a familiar shape, one that truly belonged to him. He felt some of the stress of being alive fade away at that moment. His face had bothered him even more than he realized, and having himself was a relief that almost made his soul damage feel insignificant. Almost.

Her essence continued through him, ridding him of excess body hair, leaving only a bit where it wouldn’t hurt to have some. His couch ended up full of hair everywhere, but he couldn’t give any less of a shit about that. When her work came to an end, Freddy slumped, tears streaming down his face. “Oh… god… Thank you, Sophia.”

She nodded, taking a large spark of undeath from her storage ring. “Now it’s time to put some muscle back on you.” She tried to reach for him, but he caught her arm and shook his head at her.

“No.” His lips twisted into a frown as what little joy he had fled him as he breathed the cursed words out, feeling like he was spitting glass shards. “Soul damage.”

The words made her eyes widen as she winced. “It’s that bad?”

He nodded.

The soul was deeply connected to the body. A couple of vanity changes wouldn’t do much, but the shape of his body was something his soul needed to adjust to. If he allowed drastic changes to his physical form in this state, it might very well kill him. 

“Oh… okay.” She put the spark away. “I won’t do it then.”

They remained sitting there in a heavy silence. Freddy was the first to ask the question. “What now?”

Sophia’s expression darkened. “I think I finally know what I want to do with my life.”

Freddy looked over, trying to look excited for his friend’s sake. “Oh? And what is that?”

“This empire… it’s a fucked-up place, isn’t it?” Her smile faltered. “It would be one thing if they didn’t help at all. But there were moments where it felt like they were actively trying to make the situation worse. I can’t deny it anymore, Freddy.” Her smile grew strained. Her eyes were open just a little too wide. “Something needs to change. My people were right.”

Freddy’s feigned excitement died down. “Well… They’ve never been wrong in regards to the issue. It’s always been a problem of what they wanted to do about it.” His gaze locked on to her with a sudden intensity. “I don’t exactly like where you’re going with this.”

She threw her legs up, leaping off the couch as she twined her fingers behind her back again as she playfully bounced from one foot to another. “I guessed you’d react like that. That’s why I’m not going to force you into anything.”

Freddy lurched to his feet, grasping for Sophia’s face. He gripped her tightly by the jaw as he took a deep, long look into her eyes, trying to see if anything was off.

She laughed. “Do you seriously think I’m weak enough to succumb to that virus?” She gripped his offending arm, pulling it away from her with far more force than Freddy realized she was capable of generating. She flexed her jaw as a sudden fury snuck into her gaze. “You still don’t know how to treat women with respect. You really need to work on that.”

“Sophia, this isn’t fucking funny.”

All signs of her jovial mood vanished. “And what part of anything I said sounds like a joke to you?” She paused for a moment. “You’re the one who pushed me into it. And I’m glad you did. I don’t regret doing everything in my power to help… but it should have never come to that. You know I’m right.”

“So what are you suggesting, then?”

“We do what we can.” She offered her hand. “You already know what we’re capable of.” Her eyes shone with a terrible gleam. “If anyone can do it, we can.”

“In clear fucking terms, Sophia.” He chuckled dryly. “Actually, don't say it. I already know what you’re aiming at. And I don’t think you’re going to limit yourself to just a couple of undead, are you?”

She pulled her proffered arm back.“I’ll do what I have to.”

“You’ll do something screwed up.”

“For a good cause.”

“Fuck off. Fuck all the way off; you know that won’t end well.”

Her lip quivered. “I finally get it. I’ve seen first-hand just how bad things really are. Do you genuinely believe there is any way for us to be worse than they are?”

Freddy hesitated at that. He had been there through the whole thing. He knew just how little the empire had been willing to do. From sending help to greenlighting an evacuation, there were countless things they could have done. 

Sensing his hesitance, Sophia pushed. “You’re already trying your best to make a difference. And I’m willing to help with that.” 

“Make a difference, huh?” He laughed, deflating suddenly. “If I ever had any plans of making things better, I was going to do it through proper means.”

Sophia’s brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean ‘if’?”

“I’m done. With all this shit,” he declared. “I just want to live my life now.” His head dropped. “If I’m even capable of that anymore.”

“There is so much wrong in the world, Freddy.” She took a step forward. “You have the power to change things. You can’t just give up!” 

“I already put my fucking money where my mouth is!” He shouted, but he quickly lost what little anger he could muster in his state. “I’ve given up my very life for the sake of others. As one of the rare few to have actually lived through that, I have the right to say that it isn’t fucking worth it” He took a shivering breath, his arms reaching for his hair as he gripped it tight enough to pull some strands out. “I have done my part. If you want to follow in the tracks of those terrorists, go ahead.”

Letting go of his hair, he revealed an intense gaze. “But if our paths cross again, Sophia, we won’t be on the same side. I’m going to kill you.”

Her look grew hurt as her anger made itself known. “You’ll try.” 

The tattoo wrapped around Freddy’s left arm uncoiled, revealing a gleaming black scythe, its many mouths cackling in glee. 

“A lovers’ quarrel!” 

“How cute!”

“Kill her, now!”

“Slaughter!”

“Bloodshed!”

“Pain!”

“Kill!”

“Kill!”

“Death to the cult’s dog!”

“Silver Heart lives on inside you!”

“You were born a terrorist—”

“—and you will die as one!”

Sophia’s eyes grew vacant. “That thing suits you perfectly.” She leaped back. “Goodbye, Freddy.” She leapt, breaking through the window.

“Come on, now,” the scythe egged. “You won’t let her get away, will you?”

Freddy looked down at the soul construct. The scythe melted, coiling around his arm again, where it finally shut up. He simply stood there, body and mind numb. Cold air blew in through the broken window, stealing what little warmth he had trapped inside.

This really should have wrecked him. But as with anything else, his soul damage made it hard to give a shit. He had exhausted what little emotion he could squeeze out. Now, all that remained was mild annoyance and heavy fatigue.

He turned around, flicking the light switch off and heading to his room, before going to sleep.

Rather than the graceful embrace of the morning light, what welcomed him was a sight he had been waiting for so, so long. During all those days of fighting, he had always wondered why it hadn’t come to him, when it plagued so many others.

“We finally meet,” a black, shadowy form greeted him in a bizarre, deep voice, only the whites of its square-pupiled eyes glowing in the dark. 

The language it spoke in was unlike anything Freddy had ever heard. The only reason he could understand the creature was because both of them were ascended beings.

There was no illusion or trick. No attempt at manipulation. What stood before him was a presence far above the most oppressive thing Freddy had ever felt. Whatever this creature was, it was at a level he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And he could feel it.

This being…

It was the origin of the ether virus.

Freddy remained silent.

“Impressive work with my Apostle, Freddy Stern,” it commended. “You are a rare talent.”

“What do you want?”

Freddy couldn’t see its smile, but he could feel it. “You have suffered a soul wound. I’m willing to part with a cure. But I will need you to undo the harm you’ve done to my cause.”

A laugh escaped Freddy's lips. Rather than say anything, he continued to laugh, only getting louder and more manic.

“I see I won’t be getting far with you,” it concluded, shrugging. “I knew it was a long shot anyway.”

“Oh, you think so?” Freddy’s laughter suddenly stopped. “You know, for a being whose entire shtick seems to be manipulating others, you’re pretty fucking stupid.” He growled. “What makes you think I would ever agree to anything you have to offer?”

“Those who are desperate do unexpected things.” It smiled again.

The insinuation—and mockery—behind those words wasn’t lost on Freddy. “Is that so? Well my reaction is going to be pretty predictable, buddy—piss off.”

“You should be able to feel my power. I am not here to make empty threats. You have become my enemy, and I already expect that you will try to interfere with my business again in the future. I will not let you do that. Once you wake up, your chance to live will have passed. Choose carefully.”

“You know what’s funny?” Freddy took a step forward. “I wasn’t actually planning on ever getting involved with this shit again.” Another step. “I was going to go about my business and let the world burn down if it wanted to.” Another. “But you come into my dream”—another—”to make demands of me?” He stopped, standing right before the shadowy thing. 

Then, he released every shred of madness he could conjure. 

He could see the figure’s eyes widen as it took a surprised step back. 

“We’ll meet one day,” Freddy promised. “Until then”—a crack ran through the nightmare, shattering it—“get the fuck out of my soul.” The false world dissipated into darkness.

And Freddy returned to the blissful silence of dreamless sleep.

***

Deep within Freddy’s soul, right within the web of sealed cracks, sat three unevenly shaped prisons of rune. 

A shell of deep blue rustled as the spirit within cackled with mirth. “Ah… Do you feel that, skeleton?” Leviathan uttered gleefully. “The smell of a soul with nothing else to give. This damage”—it took a deep breath, and released it with a pleased moan—”it is far beyond what can be healed with regular means.” Its eyes locked on to Bloodshed. “He is done for. Fanciful fantasies aside, there is no chance he will recover and keep moving forward.” It’s massive mouth widened into a bloodthirsty grin. “Your path has come to an end.” 

Bloodshed remained quiet for a few moments. And then, it started cackling. “Quiet, you fool.” It slowly turned its empty eye sockets in Leviathan’s direction, a crimson glow shining deep within. “You have been watching the whole time, and yet you cannot see a single truth about my master.”

“You are delusional.”

“No,” Bloodshed said. “If anything, I have lacked faith.” Its head dropped as it chastised itself. “I have thought my master pathetic enough to fail in the primordial domain. I was a fool.”

“He simply got lucky.”

“Is that what you truly believe?”

Leviathan went quiet.

Bloodshed turned its gaze away as it sighed. “I can see it, plain as day.” It stepped forward. The cage of runes unlocked, swinging open as Bloodshed stepped out into its master’s naked soul as Leviathan watched on in envy. “The path he walks only grows thicker with the smell of Bloodshed.” The skeleton floated forward, spreading its arms out. 

Its left arm twisted down as its right palm turned up. It threw its head back as if inhaling the very essence of its master’s soul. Shimmering drops of blood floated away from it, free from gravity’s pull, as they slowly unraveled and dissipated into beautiful sparks.

“Master,” it muttered. “Oh, Master. You are everything I could have prayed for. I do not believe for a moment that this will stop you.” It brought its head forward, gazing deep into the cracks within Master’s soul. “One day, you will see it as I do. There is no force that can bring your reign to an end. Should you flee from the path, you will see that you are not made for peace.”

Bloodshed grinned. “And that peace… is not made for you.”

***

The Northern Belt had been rather full of trouble lately. There were many who were trying to leave, and close to none who wanted to go there. 

It was thus a bit of an odd situation for the entire guard force of a whole sector to be standing before a figure trying to force their way in. 

Every guard present was at the third star. And yet, they shook like leaves in the wind, scared to death at what the man before them would do. 

He was a wiry man, with lithe muscles packed with unfathomable power. His night black hair draped down his broad back and his red eyes bore a hole right through the collection of guards, a playful smile on his lips. “Well? Are you going to let me through?”

A four-star border officer, one of the lowest-ranked four-stars in the empire, swallowed heavily as he took a reluctant step forward and bowed at a nearly ninety-degree angle. “We are very sorry sir. Please spare us. We are only following imperial law. Those above the third star are not allowed entry?”

The man, still remaining patient, snickered at those words. “And who exactly do you think makes those laws in the first place?”

The officer gulped. “There are no formal exceptions for Overlords. We would need to contact a higher-up to grant you an exception.”

“Well I’m giving myself an exception right now.” He took a step forward, placing a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “Relax. I know that I’m being a little unreasonable. How about this—you were unable to stop me. As for the consequences, I’m going to take full responsibility. Or”—he raised a finger to his wide lips—”perhaps we could keep it under wraps?”

The guard nodded reluctantly. “If that is your command, Overlord Umbra.”  

The man smiled. “Good. Don’t worry. It won’t take long, no more than a couple of hours.

“I’m just gonna go kill the man who eloped with my daughter. “