Exactly thirty minutes after Vance agreed to help Shannon, Eleanor finally returned. She walked down the stairs with a group of formidable Headbound in heavy armor. When Vance saw them, one word crossed his mind: Dullahans. He got up from the busy table, where Hollie, Oswald, Gunner, and Shannon were still sitting together. Two full hours had already passed since Eleanor had left, and he wanted to know why she had made him wait so long for her return. What was the “important thing” that she wanted to talk to him about? He raced to find an answer, but then there was suddenly a large crowd in the way.
Vance pushed and jostled and was pushed and jostled. There was a raging sea of headless bodies around him. Why is everyone gathering like this? He almost tripped and fell on the ground, but Himilco Magus luckily appeared by his side. The elephant-mage caught his arm with one hand. He helped Vance regain his balance, and then his elephant head smiled with strange warmth—with the expression of a father who was worried about his clumsy child. Vance saw this expression, but it only made him feel uneasy. He couldn’t help but think that the elephant-mage was condescending him.
“It’s better if you don’t push through the crowd,” Himilco said.
“What’s happening? Why are all these people gathering?”
“You’ll see soon.”
Himilco turned to look toward Eleanor, and so did Vance. She took the last step down the stairs and stood facing the crowd, who quieted down and began to listen with strange attentiveness. It was rare for such an unruly throng to show so much self-control, and it seemed to suggest that Eleanor’s return was a significant event—one that had been awaited and anticipated. Judging by her stance and position, Vance thought that she was preparing to give a speech, but it was in fact the heavy-armored solar elf on her left who began to talk. His voice was gruff, but his style was grandiose.
“Turncoats, hear me well,” the elf said. “Today is a historic day for all of us. It is a day to honor and celebrate. Your fellow Turncoat, Eleanor, has braved the Witch’s Lands on her own, fought the vicious Skull Jaws, eluded the Princesses of Decay, and returned to us with a Necrohide.”
The room erupted with a deafening applause. The crowds cheered and called Eleanor’s name in a moment of madness. Even the Turncoats sprawling on the ground, the group who had used Vermeil Activator, raised themselves with drunken dizziness and shouted unintelligible words as if to share in the joy.
“The Necrohide will change the tide of our fight against the Witch,” the elf continued, after the crowds quieted down. “It has revealed to us the locations of the forces of Decay, and it will allow us to strike back before the Witch could kill more Turncoats. Thanks to Eleanor, we will be able to destroy the enemy outposts with systematic raids. And we will reign over the plains uncontested!”
The crowds cheered again, with as much madness as before.
“For this courageous feat, there must be a reward,” the elf continued. “And so it is with great pleasure that I announce our decision to appoint Eleanor as a Dullahan Guard. It is tough to break with tradition, but sometimes it is a must. Eleanor has done well, and she deserves to become the first Turncoat to assume such an important post. There will be challenges. There will be moments of doubt and uncertainty. But we will overcome them together. We thank her for her contributions and expect from her even greater accomplishments. The Lost Flames are watching her wherever she goes. May she always put the interest of Argilstead first! May she serve us all with unwavering strength!”
The speech came to an end. The crowds cheered and clapped one last time before they swarmed around Eleanor to congratulate her. Some shook her hand with respect; some presented her with symbolic gifts consisting of gold badges, necklaces, and rings; some went as far as to offer her part of their flames. She seemed to be the center of this tiny universe—the brilliant star around which the microcosm of Turncoats was revolving. Even Himilco Magus joined in the celebrations. The crowds opened a path for him, and he walked forward with a bright smile. His stylish gift was a flower made of jewels, which he seemed to have prepared especially for this occasion.
Meanwhile, Vance was still watching from a distance. He knew little about what had unfolded before his Mental Eye. He didn’t understand the significance of the appointment, the duties of a Dullahan Guard, or the depth of the struggle between Revival and Decay. He still wanted to congratulate Eleanor as a friend, but unlike Himilco, he didn’t have the power to part the seas, and so he waited for the crowds to thin. Eventually, a path opened for him as well. He made up his mind and was about to approach Eleanor, but before he took a single step forward, he suddenly started to feel dizzy.
What’s wrong with me?
He found himself falling a few steps back. An anomalous shiver ran through his body from neck to toe. His ten fingers started twitching as if with a nervous tic, and his knees trembled like those of a newborn foal. Seconds later, white dots of light appeared at random locations in the air. They floated like the magical lanterns, shimmering like the beacons of lighthouses. He couldn’t have lost too much HP. He couldn’t have been hungry or thirsty, since such basic needs didn’t exist in Middlerift. There was one possible explanation for his ailments, but he was too deep in denial to consider it.
What’s happening to me?
He bumped into people, and they pushed him away until he fell hard on the ground. He found himself in the middle of the mindless group who had used Vermeil Activator. They were crawling and laughing and rolling on their backs. He tried to get up but fell again. It was hopeless. He had almost lost all control over his limbs. Then, as he tried to call for Eleanor, as he tried to ask for help before it was too late, he suddenly noticed someone crawling toward him. He turned to look and immediately realized that it was Shannon. The Geomancer crawled on all fours until she was by his side.
“Shannon,” he said, with difficulty. “What’s going on? What’s happening to me? And what’s wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong,” she laughed. “I just feel so happy right now.”
“Shannon?”
“So … so … happy.”
“Shannon, get a hold of yourself!”
“I’m going to sleep, Vance,” she laughed. “Whatever happens, don’t let the flies take me away. I don’t want to go. It’s too dark and scary there.”
She grabbed him and pulled him close. Her snowy legs appeared from under her dress and encircled his waist, while her arms wrapped themselves around his chest. He wanted to push her away and break free, but he didn’t have the strength anymore. The world started to reel and dance around him, all while he heard the warm congratulations that the Turncoats offered to Eleanor. His legs dropped; his arms dropped. His body collapsed like a heavy bag of sand. Then, as Shannon moved her soft fingertips along his back, he finally heard a system message amid all the noise. Half of its contents seemed senseless, but the other half told him all that he had to know:
Status Alert
Your body has finished absorbing Vermeil Activator.
Bane Added: Redspine High
You receive ?^)<\! the experience (+^/ killing enemies, but >^) enter a state of complete @*&^%@#~&@^* /~+-!? <> /!*&~\ @*=&~<@\@&>. The !((!#&= wear off ~(&!+ 8 hours.
And then he lost consciousness as if from anesthesia.
***
After receiving the garbled system message, Vance found himself walking through the mist of a dream. The wind was howling as if to mourn a fallen wolf, and church bells were resounding as if for the funeral. Wherever he looked, there was a blinding wall of pure white. The House of Turncoats was gone. The noisy celebrations were history. He didn’t know where to turn or where to go, but he still advanced with careful steps on scrunchy snow. He wasn’t afraid to challenge this white void—this emptiness summoned by the crafty dream. And little by little the mist around him began to thin as if to reward his efforts. It revealed a self-effacing sky, snow-clad oaks, and shadowy trails.
Vance stopped and marveled at this familiar landscape. He recognized this gray world, these frozen trees, these loopy trails. It was Frostgeist Forest; he was sure—it simply couldn’t be any other place in existence. On its outskirts was the sawmill where he had once worked, dragging heavy timber six days a week, and farther east from the shaved oak logs and the toothy saw blades was Engelsburg itself, the stage for the drama of his youth. But why was he here? Why was he in the heart of a wintry forest and away from the gentle warmth of civilization? The dream gave him no clear answer. He felt lost and disoriented for the longest time. Then there was a scrunch.
He turned toward the sound and saw Shannon in front of him. No, it wasn’t the Shannon he knew. She had a head and was at least four years younger. Her neck-length brown hair had a middle part that revealed a line of snowy scalp, and her eyes seemed to draw a low-angle shot of a forest—the dominant green as the canopy, the brownish furrows as the vanishing trunks. Surrounding the two sylvan views were a delicate nose, thin brows, and rosy cheeks. And her round face as a whole, as a unit examined without arbitrary division, had a mesmerizing quality that reassured people of her innocence and good nature. Seeing her face, the priestesses would say that she was blessed, and the nuns would urge her to join a convent. But there she was—in the middle of Frostgeist Forest, in the middle of the wilderness, in the middle of nowhere.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Vance tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t hear his voice, no matter how loud he shouted. He tried to pull her arm or catch the sleeve of her fur dress, but his hands passed right through her as if he were a ghost. He couldn’t interact with her in any way. He couldn’t make her aware of his existence. Then, after the last of his attempts had failed, he suddenly realized that this gray world might not be as familiar to him as he had thought. He didn’t belong here; it was indeed his homeland, but it wasn’t constructed from his memories. It was built from the foreign recollections of another mind. All he could do was observe—helplessly, quietly, timelessly. He decided to watch this young Shannon and to accompany her, like her shadow, like an apparition, wherever the memories might lead.
***
Young Shannon stood alone among the frozen trees. The Federal Guild had sent her here on an important job, and a document tucked in her bag spelled out the details: “Defeat the monster poisoning the trees of Frostgeist Forest.” It was a challenging demand, since the forest itself stretched far and wide, but Shannon was doing her best to track her target. She crouched and began to examine a trail of footprints. A frigid breeze sent shivers down her back, but she never lost concentration. She remained in a bubble of pure focus until she heard a friend call her name. It was April, the only other member of her small adventuring party.
“Any luck?” April said. “Did you spot the cenbear?”
“No.” Shannon stood up. “But there are footprints.”
“Where?”
Shannon pointed at the snow near the hem of her dress.
“Those are wolves. We have no business with them.”
“But they might have business with us. Should we turn back?”
“Come on, don’t be such a scaredy-cat!”
“Stop calling me that, April.”
“Sorry, sorry. It slipped out on its own.”
“It always does.”
April walked past young Shannon. Her shoes left marks parallel to those of the frightening wolves. Then she turned and smiled with misaligned incisors. “Are you seriously mad at me?” she laughed. Her blond braid shook right and left, and her hooded blue eyes opened wide as if with astonishment. “It slipped out on its own, I swear!” She scratched the small pimples on her forehead. “I said I’m sorry. Come here.” She rushed back and hugged Shannon. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I just want you to remember that we’ve completed our Class Ascension. We’re strong enough to fight a couple of wayward wolves.”
“I know … But …”
“Even your parents said we should accept this job. Remember how they used to tell us not to wander into forests? See how things have changed?”
“Okay … I get it. We’re not kids anymore.”
“That’s right. We can do this.”
“I guess … Yeah.”
“So let’s go find that cenbear before it’s too late.”
With no room for further argument, Shannon and April walked the forest path. Frozen twigs and translucent icicles scrunched under their shoes. They breathed into their hands and rubbed their furry clothes. As they advanced, the trees grew older, and monsters appeared on them. Four-winged Ice Quadrowls hooted from the lower boughs; white-brown Victim Buntings peeked out from cone-shaped nests; and Diver Goshawks perched on skyward limbs. All of them watched the humans closely, eager to sink their beaks and talons into succulent meat; but an item recommended by a shrewd guild employee—a bird-monster repellent—kept them at bay. It made finding the cenbear much easier.
“I think we’re near the place where it was last sighted,” April said.
A wolf howled from deep in the forest. A frigid gust blew among the trees. And the shadowy trail turned into a brighter glade.
“There it is, Shannon,” April whispered. “Can you see it?”
“Where?”
“Under the Venozon.”
Shannon ducked and looked ahead with a mixture of anxiety and alarm.
In the center of the grassless clearing, there was an old tree—ugly, leafless, riddled with galls and knots. Its gnarly trunk was three meters in diameter, and its roots formed an invasive network that released toxins into the soil. This type of wooden abomination was known as a Venozon, and although most monsters stayed clear of it, cenbears were a species that relished the poisonous roots and thrived on the toxins. It was no surprise that the prey mentioned in the job description should be found here. And there it was—a mass of fur at the foot of the tree trunk, digging with its claws and feeding the unearthed roots into its abdominal mouth.
“That’s what your dad and the other lumberjacks were talking about.”
“Yeah,” April said. “See? I told you they were right. When toxic excrement starts killing trees, there’s always a cenbear behind it.”
“It didn’t notice us yet.”
“I don’t think it did. It’s busy eating.”
“What will we do?”
“We’ll fight,” April said, with confidence. She opened her bag and put on a pair of brass knuckles. “I’ll go first. Back me up.”
“Wait,” Shannon said, grabbing April’s arm.
“What’s wrong? I thought we’re completing this job.”
“You forgot to check its level. Take out your mosntroscope.”
“Seriously, Shannon?” April sighed and produced the gadget. Taking a good look at the cenbear, she muttered, “It’s level 24. Are you satisfied now?”
Shannon nodded.
In the next moment, April was racing toward the cenbear like a bullet. By the time the monster turned around, she had arrived at close range and prepared for a devastating punch. Her brass knuckles struck her enemy in its abdominal face, leaving a leaden bruise and knocking it back several meters. As it tried to get up, she dashed toward it again and punched its face five more times. The ruthless attacks left horrible wounds. Streams of blood gushed out and flowed onto the monstrous fur. Then, as if to conclude her combo with the finishing blow, April swung her leg and sent the cenbear flying with a roundhouse kick.
This last kick was a martial arts Skill called Comet Kick. The leg moved twice as fast as it normally could and dealt enough physical damage to break bones and even shatter some shields. For a silent moment, it felt as if a quick victory had been achieved, but then the cenbear moved its spreadeagled body. It stood up and growled with its distinctive voice. It was angry that its meal had been disturbed; it was livid that it had been injured in such a way. And it lengthened its razor-sharp claws as if to say that it meant mean business.
“Struggle while you can,” April smiled. “I’m gonna enjoy killing you, freak.”
The cenbear took three clumsy steps and rolled into a furball. It continued forward with a fast spin before it jumped high and protruded its claws. Rotating in the air, it resembled the circular blades of a shredder, and its attack had the potential to reduce a human into strip steaks. Only a good shield or skillful magic could stop the lethal attack. And although April had neither, she wasn’t alone in this fight.
“Stand back, April! It’s too dangerous!” Shannon rushed to the rescue. She activated her basic Skill: Geo-manipulation. Her hands shone with a blue light, and as she waved them, a pillar of rock rose from the ground between April and the cenbear. This pillar blocked the monster’s attack and knocked it back to the ground, where it writhed and squirmed with half of its claws broken.
“Great work, Shannon,” April said. “Go for the kill!”
“No, it’s weak enough now,” Shannon mumbled inaudibly. “We should catch it and release it somewhere else. We don’t need to kill it.”
“Shannon! Why are you just standing there? It’s gonna run away!”
“I …”
“Just do it! Just go for the kill! ”
The cenbear noticed Shannon and realized the danger she posed. It turned around and tried to flee. But it was too late. Geo-manipulation activated again, and three walls of rock surrounded the helpless monster. It tried to find a way out through the last remaining opening—the missing fourth wall—but as it scrambled toward the light, April’s silhouette appeared before it. The Martial Artist kicked the sad furball up. Before it hit the ground again, she had punched it into a mince and kicked the life out of it.
“572 EXP. Not bad!” April smiled, as the corpse dropped with a thud.
The battle was over.
The earthen walls disappeared underground, and Shannon’s hands lost their blue glow. She stood still and caught her breath. The job was complete, and it seemed that her friend April was in a good mood. She imagined how April would boast later in the midnight taverns. With a bit of a smile, she started to think about all the warm congratulations that April would receive from friends and family, but then she noticed the corpse of the cenbear, and she began to think about this monster’s own friends and family. Would they know that it was dead? Would they feel pain or sadness? The Church said that monsters had no feelings, but she had seen Victim Buntings cry. Her smile faded away.
“What’s wrong?” April said.
“Nothing.”
“By the way, you did that thing again.”
“What thing?” Shannon said, with honest confusion.
“You had a chance to crush the cenbear between the walls, but you didn’t.”
“Oh, um … yeah … you’re right, I guess.”
“Did you feel sympathy for that ugly thing?”
“ No … I … I told you before … I … I just hate seeing things die.”
“Well, you’ve got to get used to it soon, or you’ll never grab a kill in your life,” April sighed. “I picked this job specifically so that you’d grow out of this phase. I guess it’s no use, huh?” She looked at the corpse and sighed once more. “You’re my best friend and all, Shannon. But I think this might be the last job we work on together. We think differently. And I don’t want work to ruin our friendship. I guess you can go back to focusing on fetch and escort quests.” April was about to dissolve the party, but then she realized that it would be too sudden and too harsh. “Wait, I just got a nice idea! Let’s not rush things! Let’s take it step by step! We’re supposed to bring back a claw, right? To prove we finished the job.”
“Uh-huh …”
“You’re gonna tear one off the corpse.”
“I definitely won’t!” Shannon turned away.
“You will,” April laughed. “It’s the best way to get over your problem.”
“I didn’t ask for help. Thank you.”
“Come on, Shannon.”
“You get the claw.”
“Fine. But at least turn this way and look at me as I do it.”
“I just have to look?”
“Yeah, just look,” April said. Then she muttered to herself, “I’ll take it step by step. This time she watches. Next time she does it herself. Third time she grabs a kill.” With unrealistic optimism, April took out her knife and started cutting around one of the unbroken claws. It felt better to take one that was intact, in case she wanted to show it off to her friends, but removing it required more time and energy than she expected. As she struggled with the raw task, fearing that she might lose her unwilling audience, she said, “Keep looking at me, Shannon. I know there’s lots of blood, but you have to look. I’m almost done.”
But Shannon was no longer watching the butchered butchery. Instead, her eyes had strayed to the nearby trees. At that moment, a wolf was emerging from the gelid embrace of snow. It staggered for three weak steps and then dropped dead on the edge of the glade.