Brock wasn’t confused as he travelled through darkness, being well acquainted with Mio’s teleportation power by now. Certainly, having what he believed was brain damage, and what he felt was a crushed face, didn’t help, and he vomited a mix of bile and black blood as the dark gave way to blurred colours of blue, white and green.

He could feel his consciousness slipping slowly, the blood loss becoming enough that he was feeling dizzy and nauseated to the point he could actually feel it through the hum of anguish that consumed him. Once again, he tried to move a limb, any limb, but they were either broken beyond movement, or his brain simply wasn’t capable of getting the signal to them.

From what senses he could muster, he felt that Mio’s aura had bottomed out, before it quickly rose back up a few notches. The special berry she had given him back when the chasm at King’s Cavity was created came to the forefront of his mind, and only seconds later, he felt one be forced down his own throat.

His aura was somewhat undrained save for the depletion following his passive use, but he did find that the berry’s effects helped ease the subtle weakening that was imposed upon it as his injuries slowly grew in severity. Even through his muddled thoughts and random mind blanks, he wondered how he was still alive. His other near-death experiences flashed across his vision.

He… should have died a long time ago, regardless of his stats. It really was like he was… resistant to death or something.

Darkness began to seep in from the edges of his vision as he felt himself be picked up by his saviour, disallowing him the spare mind to celebrate his success in finding a method to save himself. From one avenue of death at least. He still had to survive his current wounds.

And as black finally consumed his sight, he idly wondered who that silhouette standing behind Mio belonged to. It was tall, its body misshapen and lanky, appearing to be hunched over the woman’s shoulder and gazing directly at him. His blurred vision found no clear eyes or features on the being, yet as darkness took him away, Brock couldn’t but feel that it was profoundly…

Disappointed.

**

He was losing blood. Fast. As Mio’s legs skimmed over the earth with Brock in her arms, she left a trail of blackened grass in her wake, her passenger’s blood spilling out of his face and wounds and dribbling down onto the ground. She had no idea how much blood a person could lose these days without dying, but she knew he had lost too much.

The System might make dying far more difficult than it had been before, but it didn’t make it impossible. She knew… she knew all too well.

From the way his eyes seemed to be half closed, half gummed with blood, it appeared Brock had fallen unconscious. Despite that, she didn’t miss the way his ruined eyes seemed to stare behind her. Briefly, as she noticed it, she feared that that monster - ‘Zin Keene’ as he had called himself - had found them, but when she glanced over, there was nothing.

It was strange, but the man’s brain had been pulverised in his skull.

She didn’t quite know where she was going as she ran, following vague memories from several months ago and extremely old, almost fully dissipated, aura traces. She recognised the landscape despite its various changes as Canada, in the place where she’d… where she’d been on a holiday with her family before everything had turned to shit.

Fortunately, the Dojo had been what had awaited her at her Tutorial’s end. They’d saved her, both literally and emotionally. She just wished her parents and sister had survived long enough to be saved by them alongside her.

Just… stop fucking thinking about them.

As time went on, and she felt auras blip in her senses, she picked up her speed, all too aware of Brock’s weakening aura. The Auraberry had certainly bought some time, but it was quickly overcome. If not for the fact giving him a second berry would make him immensely ill, she would have done so in a heartbeat.

Nestled upon the fields of grass and placed between a smattering of trees, was a town, and it loomed as she approached. Mostly, the buildings seemed to be in good, recent repair, and the auras of those within – she counted several thousand – were all strong and healthy. A few she sensed were closing in on level 50, but the majority were only in the late 20s.

Her legs blurred her forward toward the town, and she looked down at the dying man in her arms. She… the thought of him perishing certainly made her heart pang with… soul-wrenching pain. It was the first time she’d felt it since her Tutorial.

Trying her hardest to forget about the event in her recent past and attempting to numb herself like she’d always done, her thoughts returned to Brock. She hadn’t known the man for long, but… she… she felt that they had established a friendship with each other, an unlikely one, considering their first meeting, but a friendship, nonetheless.

Her only friendship.

Together they sped past the city boundary unhindered by any sort of wall or barricade. While she couldn’t say she moved as fast as Brock, it was enough that as she zoomed by, the civilians out and about shouted and cowered, confused and afraid of whatever they had glimpsed passing by.

Towards the centre of the town, she felt the more powerful auras flare and prod at her own, though with how tightly bound it was to her body, they found no purchase upon her, and couldn’t glean anything more than her level. She knew people didn’t take kindly to threats, however, and released the tight binding over her aura.

Generally, she only kept it binded as it reduced her detectability and protected people from reading her emotions. But, if she wanted Brock to get the help he needed, she needed to be amicable with these people.

Eventually, when she felt she had crossed through about half the town, she slowed, finding herself in a town centre of sorts. A non-functioning water statue stood in the centre and was surrounded by several stone benches populated by men, women and children alike. They snuck glances at her as they arrived, and a few placed their hands over the eyes of their sons or daughters upon sighting the state of the man in her arms.

While most looked at the sight and reacted in a way she honestly expected – by glancing at her and Brock with concern and moving off to get others to help them – some just opted to take a gander and continue with whatever they were doing. Their eyes held a certain harshness to them, Mio saw, not one of disdain, but one of experience. She could tell they saw sights such as these often.

And some, mostly children and their mothers, hurried off as fast as they could; Mio didn’t blame them. Brock was in quite a gruesome state. If she was honest, and the mere thought horrified her after experiencing the power that the Oni held, she believed the monster had actually been holding back.

Otherwise, how else would Brock have survived the blow? She hadn’t seen him use his Techniques or even Augments on her companion even once. Although, she supposed she had arrived rather late.

There wasn’t much she could do once the people left to find help except stand there and wait. A few left from shops and restaurants that populated the surroundings of the square, bringing with them first aid kits. The metal casing was rusted, and Mio didn’t hold much hope for the contents within. Regardless, she had waved them off, scoffing.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

If an aged and most probably expired first aid kit could nurse him back to health, then what was the danger in fighting an E Grade?

She only had to wait another five minutes before a group charged in from one of the side streets that led into the square. One carried a stretcher under his arm like it weighed nothing, while the other three held nothing. Mio thought that most probably, they were crowd control.

Two scurried up beside her and began to ask questions, mainly things like ‘how long has he been like this?’, or ‘what the fuck happened?’. Mio answered them all studiously, although they didn’t seem to believe that an alien that had looked akin to an Oni descended to punch him in the face.

She… could see why.

The stretcher was placed upon the ground, and while the assistance wasn’t actually needed, they helped her lower him onto the device. The final member of their group waved off the crowd of onlookers that had begun to gather, although no one actually listened to her words. Mio found it rather funny.

As they travelled him across the city and toward a smaller building on the outskirts of the town, one that once looked to have been a house, Brock began to sputter and choke. Blackened blood drooled from his crooked jaw and down onto the stretcher beneath him.

One of the carriers, a woman, probably no older than seventeen, squealed and almost let go as a few droplets landed along her pale forearms, and Mio had to restrain herself from skewering the girl on a shadow. Fucking idiot.

Soon though, they arrived upon the front step of the house, and the person who had originally carried the stretcher to them stepped forward and opened the door. Without wasting time, their troop moved in. The carry boy tried to stop Mio from entering with them, but the tickle of shadows upon his revealed throat was enough to convinced him otherwise.

The interior of the house truly showed that it had once belonged to a resident. Old pictures hung upon the discoloured walls, their frames rotted and the image inside browned and faded. As they passed by what appeared to be a living room, Mio caught sight of a selection of couches, and wooden cabinets.

While the latter were slumping and decayed, the couches were in relatively decent condition, if a bit crusty looking. Even from where she was, she could smell the stale scent they emitted, and her eyes picked up a finely pressed butt print on every cushion of the couch, telling her that it was probably well appreciated in the time its owners had used it.

Most likely… a family…

Ignoring her thoughts, she and the entourage passed by the kitchen, the number of people forcing them to cram themselves down the hall and finally into what appeared to have once been a garage.

It was quite a bit darker than the hall she’d come from, and the dim light swinging idly overhead told her why. The air felt sticky and stale and carried the stench of blood, but also… herbs? As her eyes parsed apart the faint lighting, she glimpsed upon the series of beds placed along the walls. Only two were occupied, the people lying atop them asleep and covered in their own assortment of unattended wounds.

Strangely enough, they looked to be… healing. Rather rapidly as well. High Vitalities?

Over on the other end of the garage, up against the roller door that she really thought they should have entered from, was a collection of work benches and beakers. A woman stood before the middle bench, hunched over and stirring something avidly. To either side of her, various equipment sat, and under the benches lay a collection of large crates.

From what she could see, a few contained an assortment of fruits, while the others held several bundles of varying herbs. Mio pinpointed them as the source of the herby smell that permeated the room.

Waiting at the door with crossed arms, she let the ‘medics’ lay Brock atop a bed beside some other man, who had a particularly nasty gash across his chest, and immediately vacated the room after nodding toward the woman at the benches. She didn’t even notice that they had arrived nor left.

From how shit they were at their job, they must’ve been volunteers…

As they streamed out, Mio sensed them head toward and enter the longue room. Forget the previous family, the prints probably belonged to all of them. She snorted in derision and inched toward the woman at work.

She spared a glance for Brock, who was still sputtering and dying, and growled, “Hey. A little help?”

The woman almost appeared to jump as the voice reached her and she spun around in a panic. Her eyes, covered by a pair dulled and scratched glasses, fell upon Mio, “Oh, sorry, sorry. Sometimes I get… a bit engrossed in my work. My bad.”

The nonchalant way she addressed the situation made her shadow itch, but Mio kept herself composed. Without wasting much time, the woman moved over to a cupboard that adorned the wall to her left and swung open the doors. From within, she pulled out a flask. A luminous green fluid swished about within, and Mio’s brain tickled with recognition.

A… potion? Her eyes darted toward the benches that the woman had been working at. Various fruits and herbs were splayed along the surface, and a green fluid was resting in another flask, illuminating the area around it with an emerald glow. Alchemy?

The supposed alchemist hurried past Mio and came to Brock’s side. The sight of his condition made her pause, but only for a moment. As she grasped his splintered jaw and opened his mouth, she prepared to pour the contents of the flask in with her other hand. Then she froze. Her brows furrowed.

“…Brock?”

**

Zin cursed, he spat, he snarled. The sandy expanse quivered with his wrath and split with his fury. Limbs empowered with aura ejected force along the landscape, tearing gouges along its surface, and his ice left the surrounding shrubbery in crumbling tatters. If only he hadn’t slain that Elemental so soon, he would have had something to take his rage out on.

His bloodshot eyes glanced at the shining trunk of the Source far in the distance. He didn’t dare attack it.

Growling with fists clenched so tightly his claws cut at the flesh of his palms, Zin resettled his gaze on the blood-soaked sands where the Error’s body had once rested. The signature ended there. Gone. There was a reason shadow-based Ascendancy users were hated by bounty hunters out in the universe. Their teleportation powers were effectively untraceable.

That was, unless the person trying to track them was a shadow user themselves, but as Zin wasn’t, he was left fuming. Typical teleportation powers accessed a different realm as their medium for transportation than shadow powers. The former utilised the astral, while the latter travelled through the shadow realm.

While both were different layers of existence, they were very different.

He snarled to his surroundings, and his arm whipped out, carving through the sands. His aura was depleting quickly during his tantrum, but he cared not. Nothing on this planet could threaten him anyway. That’s what had made the experience of tracking the Error so novel and fun.

But now, he’d have to wander the planet and rekindle the trace in his tracker. With his speed, it’d take months, and even then, as he didn’t possess any form of map that showed him the planet’s geography, he might miss entire swaths of land or separated continents. He growled again, feeling his rage begin to bubble up and over once more.

Returning without the Error was not an option. His Techniques been bottlenecked at only the third Tier for months now, and this was his lucky break. And that aside, High Inquisitor Erykah didn’t tolerate failure. There was a reason why every member of the Divine Court had a perfect track record of success.

In the end, Zin cooled himself and tried to remain level-headed. The Error couldn’t leave the planet, not unless someone from outside of it – like him - gave it a way to leave, or the System initialized the jump gate procedure, but that only happened once a planet reached five years of age since the integration. He had time, plenty of it.

Wait…

A thought struck him, and his grin widened so much so that it almost split his face in two. Dozens of fangs glistened within his mouth, and he began to laugh. The Error was dying. Somehow, it had circumvented the limiter placed upon it by the System, and its lifeforce was burned as payment for the levels gained. By his estimations, it had a few months at most, maybe less.

Through myths and stories, he’d heard that upon death, Errors released all the energy they had gathered during their lifetime into the atmosphere, and while useable, it carried the Error’s signature. As long as he waited it out, his tracker would pick it up from across the planet and he’d find it.

He’d also heard that the same sort of effect occurred when they evolved, an apparent attempt by the System to get someone to find and kill them, though he highly doubted it’d reach level 100 in its race in the few months it had left. While they possessed the ability to level their race through killing, without an Ascendancy it was an extremely slow process, and that wasn’t even taking the limiter into account.

Generally, forcing evolution through the absorption of energy was a process of patience, thus the slow speed of growth for most – not all, there had been a few rare outliers over the course of history - Errors. There was a reason Ascendancies affected race levels. They slowly mutated the user’s body until it was at the peak of their racial capabilities and was ready to undergo a total evolution.

The effects of an Error absorbing the diluted Origin that was granted upon killing something achieved a similar effect, but as it wasn’t guided by an Ascendancy, but by an unskilled hand, it was far more inefficient.

Regardless of all that, his grin remained, and he glanced at the trunk of the Source. All he needed to do now was wait until the creature perished. In the meantime, it seemed that he had something to study.