The Ojin night sky streaked with ominous electric-blue lightning on the horizon. Shades of various fog shrouded all paths in the distance, telling Alan of a world untraveled. When he first arrived here it might’ve discouraged him. But now? It was inviting.

Alan was alone walking the cobblestone streets of Sharas-da, admiring the Merchant huts he one day hoped to share. Perhaps that was a pipe dream from his old life at the pawn shop. Why? Because here, for some reason, every cell in his body told him to keep moving.

On his way down the mountain, he drew his Blood-Vision Edge weapon and balanced on the enormous crystal chain links like he remembered seeing some Stalkers do. Activating Red Saro trained him in practicing some powerful strikes on the way down.

He recalled Lucius’ teachings – how and when to shift weight for maximum impact. Properly feigning an attack had to start with strong intent, then diverge at the last second. He swung, and dodged, and dealt killing blows to the air, all while keeping perfect balance on awkward oversized links.

After some time swinging the blade, an ability list became visible:

Blood-Vision Edge

Ability: Counter-dash – evade an attack to activate a burst of clairvoyant Blue Saro and dynamic Red Saro that propels the wielder behind their foe. Beware, the increase in speed can be jarring.

Passive Ability: Hyper-instinct – double the potency of Red Saro when Blood-Vision Edge is equipped, allowing for quicker reflexes and evasion tactics. Note, Title enhancements compound with this ability.

The dragon eyes on each blade tip lit as he swung and flipped the staff around. He felt like Darth Maul, kind of. But as a good guy.

After another hour, he reached the threshold of sharp-winged birds with hardened feathers soaring down to cleave him. He remembered being afraid of them on his way up with Neesha a while back. Not anymore.

He tested his new ability by side-stepping one of the spinning minions and allowing his weapon to carry him.

Woosh!

His eyes instantly became dry as his vision blurred. When he slowed down, he was mid-jump behind the minion.

Shnk!

He slashed, reducing the minion to a puff of feathers and glowing essence.

Damn. He coughed to get the dryness out of his throat. The prompt wasn’t kidding about the speed. It’s like the blade carried me there.

This new power felt good. Dangerously good.

As a flock of minions attacked him, he realized his instinctual prowess was becoming more powerful even without the blade – or at least these minions were becoming less so. When he redrew Blood-Vision Edge, however, it was a different game entirely. One-by-one, as the attackers came, he was able to visualize each dive in slow motion, turning Alan’s attacks into a poetic dance of blade.

When he emerged to an abundance of glowing essence on the ground, he smirked at his newfound power. Lucius was right… there was no weapon he’d ever wielded like this one. It was powerful. Darkly so. And he had no Durger to coach him through it.

After another hour balancing down the mountain’s chain, he decided to draw Lucius’ blade. He didn’t like the way it felt in his grip – too heavy for its size, darkening his vision ever so slightly. And the whispers. So many undiscernible whispers flew in and out of his ears.

“Are you in there, friend?” he asked, holding the blade in front of him. “If you are, come out.”

Nothing.

Just a gust of wind.

Even so, he swung the awkward weight around, remembering Farante Del Sol – the sick deceiver who tried to get him to jump headfirst into a swamp. If not for him, he would’ve never found Yogi. So there’s that.

This blade was ripped out of the ocean’s bottom, guarded by a skeleton dragon. Alan had no business wielding it.

“I gift you this weapon because it will not corrupt you,” Lucius’ voice whispered through Alan’s mind, making him stiffen with goosebumps.

“Lucius?” Alan turned all the way around, knowing the Stalker could be anywhere.

“I’ve imprinted this message to let you know you will not get lost in the darkness and left you this steed to ensure it.”

“Steed?”

The Soul Collector exhaled shadowy wisps that spiraled around Alan’s legs, forming a neighing Orange Saro horse from the ground up that lifted Alan off his feet. A flare of molten flame shot in all directions as the horse whinnied on its hind legs – causing Alan to scramble for the reins.

“Whoa!” He frantically shoved the sword into the sheath and wrapped his other hand tightly around the fiery rope, and only relaxed when the horse leveled on the chain. “Hell yeah.” He patted the horse, noticing his handprint sizzling on its fur.

“Ride Voltair with grace,” Lucius’ voice faded with the wind.

“Giddy up!” Alan whipped the reins, and gasped when Voltair leapt forward.

The rest of the ride down the mountain was frightening at first, but after the first few diagonal hops, it became exhilarating.

He waved and cheered at an unsuspecting group climbing the mountain and cackled when they awkwardly held up hands back.

Aha!

Oh shit!

A haze of green fog awaited him at the foot of the mountain, so he tugged the reins back to stop Voltair in his tracks, reducing his gallop to a walk.

That doesn’t look friendly.

Floods of unease made his belly turn. He no longer had Durger measuring his Saro output, leaving him with no idea whether he’d be depleted just by riding the horse. What’s worse, there was no saying whether Ojin would continue to throw incomprehensible minions at him even without his party… or whether Hyndole was breathing down his neck.

Odds were against him on every turn. But he was wiser now, stronger, and undoubtedly more experienced. It’d have to do.

As he carefully analyzed the rolling bubble of clear air, he noticed paw-prints large enough for Voltair to cozy up into, so he dug into his bag as a precaution. It was obvious flipping out a minion of his own would give away his position, but better that than be caught off guard if there were gigantic beasts in the area.

Let’s see what you got, Gardstrife. He flipped the coin high at his back, feeling infinitely safer with the giant blade-armed suit of armor materializing into existence. His eyes shined through his mask, and he posed like he was about to beat the crap out of something.

“Roused from a void-filled slumber. Who is my foe, keeper?” Strife’s celestial voice made birds flee from their nests.

“Shh!” Alan said. “Dead air is your foe, apparently.”

“I do not understand.” Strife relaxed and stood upright, armor clinking.

Oof. Alan scratched his head. Then again, he knew Yogi would make just as much noise if he summoned him.

“You’re on patrol, Gardstrife. Like in the old days. If we see a minion we can defeat, let’s defeat it, so we can clear this horrible fog.”

“Ah. This is a command I can adhere to.” He sharpened his blade-arms and began marching behind Alan, swiveling his head every which way.

They explored carefully for some time, Alan taking in the vibrant trees reminding him of a forest at home, except for the cones of water syphoning into the ground like confined tornadoes, but of course aspects of Ojin would continue to be weird. So long as it wasn’t Strangey Town weird, it was fine.

“Permission to speak,” Strife asked softly.

“Of course, as long as you can protect against whatever your voice invites,” Alan enjoyed joking with the hunk of shiny metal.

“With all of my essence, I will defend,” Strife said.

“That’s the spirit. So what’s on your mind?”

“It appears your burdens have tripled since I last laid eyes on you.”

Alan considered that. The Soul Collector sword, of course. Less friends, sure. No Durger… “I suppose you could say it’s been a rather rough ride since Lord Osmi let us into the forbidden shops.”

“It is always difficult to watch descent into darkness. If it is any consolation, your power has also tripled.”

That did help to hear, actually.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“A common trade-off, it seems.”

“Osmi said that you came from Hozzod. So, did you defend for Jaeger?”

“All of Hozzod defends Jaeger.”

“That’s fair. How about Hyndole?”

“Yes. I was privileged with accompanying the lord hand, prior to him claiming such a Title.”

Alan’s curiosity piqued. “Oh? What was he like?”

“A zealous warrior and fierce defender of the realm. Indeed, he was also a talented politician, but I do not value such deceptiveness.”

“Because you’re a soldier,” Alan surmised.

“Precisely.”

“Scared to know what you think of Merchants then.”

“I’d rather not say.”

Alan laughed. “’Course not. Well, here’s to hoping I can break that mold.”

“My confines are rather rigid, as is my essence, Sir Keeper. It will be a hard task to overcome.”

“We’ll see. So, let’s say Hyndole was to attack your current keeper, me. What would happen then?”

“It would destroy my soul to mortally combat my old shielded. However, I would do it.”

Alan felt a pang of remorse for asking. Though Gardstrife’s mask was always frozen in one expression, Alan sensed pain.

“Is Hyndole your enemy?”

“He’s pretty wicked, yeah.”

“Hm. Well, if it comes to a duel, I must take comfort that he has become something far different from when I shielded him. Some liken him to a minion itself.”

“I’d say that’s a fair assessment in terms of looks. But I haven’t come across minions who can scheme like that,” Alan scoffed.

“One does not ascend far in Hozzod without exceptional skill in the arena as well as the courtroom. Deception, key factors among them.”

“Hm. A soldier knows his superiors are inherently bad, yet soldiers on.”

“I am judged not on those merits, but on how well I carry my orders—” Strife’s head jerked abruptly to the right, scaring Voltair on his hind legs.

Alan commanded the horse back into his sword and drew his double-bladed staff as he touched ground.

Fshew!

Gardstrife disappeared into a blur, and as soon as Alan laid eyes on the ten-foot alligator-head humanoid holding a stone claymore, it was cut into three bloody pieces before fading into essence. Red slice marks lingered in the air – fissures in space. They vibrated violently before dispersing outward like aggressive fireworks, revealing Gardstrife standing tall behind them.

“Holy shit.” Alan’s arms went slack from a mix of depleted energy and awe.

A cloud of green fog cleared in a quarter-mile circumference, revealing trees intertwined together, shaped as holsters to giant white essence globes. Apparently, the stationary tornadoes spawned from them, as evidenced by one whipping into existence like a strung top before Alan’s eyes.

“Hm. The area is clear, but Rockers tend to communicate through quakes. I am not sure I defeated her before the bang.”

“Her? That looked like a buff dude to me.”

“That one was female. The bottom tooth grows high over the snout.”

“Okay, well, more importantly, how the hell did you move that fast? That was amazing.”

“I am but an extension of your Saro. Red is a great mixture with my rigid essence. It helps me prepare which straight line to travel.”

“Straight line?”

“Yes. My strikes, although fast, are rigid.”

Huh. He’s like a rook in chess. Maybe the very idea came from patrolgods like him. Fascinating.

Alan gazed around the forest, understanding that Gardstrife just defeated a sectional minion of the green fog, which likely meant there were many more around. He whipped out his living map to try and make sense of it.

Miss you already, Flint.

He did his best to ignore the blinking Pegs of Fate on the map – especially the group of them flying in a formation at the other end – but was happy to see that his location now blinked among them thanks to Yineera’s Peg in his bag. It was helpful to analyze the area. An impasse east would’ve been half of a wasted day, easy.

“Stay alert, keeper. There are rumblings along the way.”

“Rockers communicating?”

“Most like.”

Alan concentrated on channeling restorative Saro to keep himself at full energy. He had no idea when he’d be depleted to naught now, so better safe than sorry. Switching to his God Merchant Title seemed to be the way to go too, since he was walking around with such immense power guarding him. Better to keep Strife’s skills maxed rather than his own right now.

“Permission to speak.”

“You don’t have to ask, Strife.”

“Very well. What is your goal, Sir Keeper?”

Alan looked away from his map. That was a loaded question. At first, for the longest time, it was to get home. Now he didn’t know what home was. Also, he made a firm promise to himself that he’d encourage change in this world where he could and help people. First and foremost though, he had promises to keep… for Yogi.

“I suppose after I finish my quest of returning a friend to his home, I’d like to journey to a place I could call home, and aid groups against Ojin minions along the way… in the short-term, at least.”

“Hm. Noble.”

“So I’ve been told.” Alan shrugged.

Gardstrife’s head jerked to the left, prompting Alan to hold up his blade.

“What is it?” Alan whispered.

“Statoo! Ruh!” A Rocker hidden behind a tree started slamming the floor with a stone club, just before it was sliced in two by Strife.

I really need to learn how to strike like that. It’s like the Blood Edge, but unprompted by an evade.

Another wave of momentary fatigue made Alan’s limbs tingle with atrophy. Strife’s attacks seemed to stun Alan in place for a few seconds afterward.

Uh oh.

The ground trembled at Alan’s feet from somewhere far away. It started low at first, then soon became more violent. Tree branches snapped, and those calm tornadoes began to teeter in place.

“Hm. The Mother Rocker has been alerted. That is her warcry.” Gardstrife dashed back into Alan’s vicinity, standing protectively over him.

“Great. Hey, Strife, are you stuck in place after an attack like that?”

“Yes. Striking at instinct speeds freezes my essence momentarily.”

“Rrrrru! Stoboo too!” a wildly loud female voice blared through the forest, scaring birds out of trees.

“Should I call for backup? I have an awesome Borai in my arsenal.”

“If you are not keen to your level of Saro endurance, you would risk fatigue, Sir Keeper.”

Alan had no more time to think. A silhouette hopped from one healthy treetop to another, hiding amongst its leaves. He lifted his blade, shifting to Blue Saro in hopes to understand what was coming. All his mind’s eye showed was a nimble alligator humanoid silhouette with long bottom teeth and a stone circle orbiting around her like Saturn’s ring.

“Ruu. Rah!” It leapt from the tree and slammed down ten feet in front of them, confirming Alan’s foresight as true.

Gardstrife rushed without fail, dashing into a blur to reduce the Rocker to pieces. This time, it didn’t work. The Rocker flipped and stomped down unharmed and shouting its dismay.

Alan and Strife were locked in place.

Shit. This must be the mother.

He hoped the red-slash fissures vibrating in the air was some source of delayed damage, but before he could find out, the Mother Rocker stomped her foot, sending an explosion of her rock ring flying in all directions.

Clank! Clank! It knocked Gardstrife off his armored feet.

Woosh! One flew by Alan as his limbs regained feeling.

Boof!

He threw his arms up just in time to suffer a rock that would’ve killed him. He flew back, knocking the ground shoulder-first and rolling six times after. His arm felt like it’d been hit with a hammer – completely dead and throbbing. His face covered in dirt and grass, and he lost his Edge.

Holding his head in hopes his vision would stop spinning, Alan dared to sit upright, then ducked again when the Mother Rocker lifted its clawed hands and called back the orbit of rocks.

Jesus! He pressed healing Green Saro into his arm.

His first instinct was to try and communicate with it while Gardstrife readied his second charge, so he pressed his hand to the floor and sent a stream of Blue Saro in its direction.

“Fire starters!” the mother screamed. “Leave the forest or I will reduce you to fertilizer! The green is no place for the likes of you!”

Fshew!

Gardstrife charged again, only to hit nothing but three trees in his long path. They teetered before falling to crush one of the large white orbs – knocking a tornado into dissipating dust.

The Mother Rocker was horrified, readying to hurl her magical rocks at Strife.

“Wait!” Alan shouted, making the Rocker falter. “We aren’t here to burn anything down!”

She huffed. “I saw your steed. I know your kind. Now die!”

Strife’s lingering fissures burst on cue, whacking the Mother Rocker in the face, and sending her airborne.

Alan snapped his fingers to trigger a fresh blanket of Red Saro, and Title-swapped for Forbidden Merchant to give him an edge since Strife was too rigid for the mother’s nimbleness. He somersaulted and reclaimed his staff, flipping it into ready position.

“Perhaps we can come to an agreement!” Alan yelled over the rotating rocks crunching against the dirt as the Rocker got back to her feet.

“I don’t negotiate with firestarters!”

The ground quaked at Alan’s feet again. He turned to see two Rockers atop trees working the white essence globes as if they were some kind of steering wheels. Two water tornadoes dislodged from their peaceful syphoning and violently crisscrossed in Alan’s direction.

Bwoof!

He flipped out Vosh and stood amidst the forcefield that dissolved the tornadoes to harmless misty wisps.

“I’ll say it again.” Alan flipped the bubble back into a coin. “We can work something out.” His blade shined vibrant red after his quick thinking. He guessed the move counted as a dodge, activating the Blood Edge if he so chose.

Choose your next words carefully. Alan bent into ready position.

“Die!” Mother shouted.

So be it.

Alan disappeared into the staff’s speedy embrace, gaining air, and slowing right behind one of the Rocker’s that shot the tornado at him.

Shnnk!

He sliced through the Rocker’s scales, sending it flailing off the treetop, leaving the orb for Alan to play with. He touched it, thinking cold thoughts since he assumed it was White Saro, but a barrage of rocks from the mother sent him flipping onto a branch to avoid being cleaved.

His dual-blade lit red again, and he used the momentum to leap to the next orb-wielder.

Shnnk!

A strong slice down the Rocker’s spine sent her crunching against the tree trunk and down to the forest floor.

Alan straightened, locking eyes with Gardstrife across the way – who strategically waited for Alan to be still before attacking again.

Woosh!

Strife’s third try was another miss, leaving Alan momentarily paralyzed. Thankfully the fissures kept Mother busy taking cover, enough for both Alan and Strife to recuperate.

This isn’t working, Alan thought. We need a different strategy before we’re both stoned to death. He flipped down from the treetop, yanked the green essence left by the fallen Rockers, and dashed over to Strife.

He ducked the rocks flying back to Mother and rushed to his protector.

“I have an idea.”

“Yes, keeper. The mother is gifted with quick reflexes and malleable essence.”

“Which is why I’m going to use clairvoyance to anticipate where she’ll land after I strike. I’ll point you there by throwing my dagger to the location. That’s where you aim. Alright?”

“I am not accustomed to such tactics, but I will try.”

“Good enough for me.” Alan knocked on Strife’s armored leg and sprinted away. He exchanged Blood Edge for Soul Collector and summoned his steed to rile the Mother Rocker. It worked flawlessly – the minion was so blind with rage she cut her own tree down with her violently rotating rocks and sent them all hurling at Alan.

He doused himself in instinctive Red Saro, seeing the projectiles charging him in slow motion. Jumping on Voltair’s saddle with two feet, he sprung himself airborne, flipping over the first barrage, and gingerly touching his foot on the next rock in his path to continue his flip in the air.

This was the most daring stunt he’d ever tried.

Another exchange back to Blood Edge dissolved Voltair instantly and sent Alan soaring behind Mother Rocker. On the way, he activated Blue Saro and tossed his dagger where clairvoyance told him to.

As he slowed midair behind Mother, he swung his dual-blade as hard as he could, knowing he would miss.

“Now, Strife!”

Fsssht!

As soon as the Mother Rocker landed, two angry red fissures cleaved an X in her belly.

“So it is,” is all her snarly voice said before the fissure exploded her into a puff of green essence.

“Yes!” Alan cheered, then immediately collapsed, paralyzed.

The cloud of green fog in the distance rolled away like a clearing dust storm. All directions, as far as Alan could see, was of glittery green forest and slow-revolving tornadoes.

They did it.

They cleared a whole section of Ojin that now appeared on his map as Brushfalls.

“An epic strategy, keeper. Deceptive even, if I might say.”

“You sure have a broad definition of that word, Strife.” Alan dusted himself off, staring hard at his map. “I like the teamwork. That was good stuff.”

“I am enthralled that my keeper approves of my guardianship.”

Alan arced an eyebrow, wondering for a second if that was sarcasm, then looked again at his map. “Huh.” He turned it every which to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Nope. It was true. That flying formation of Peg holders was now almost directly over him.

When he looked to the sky, he gulped. “Uh oh.”