They had just left from another brief skirmish against the horrors of the mist, fortunately, a weak one compared to the others they had come across earlier. It looked as though it was an odd net of twigs too unnatural to be formed by the fallings of trees.

It weaved an entire swathe of forest floor — or at least as far as someone like he can see. It waited until they trampled atop it before its outer reaches raised and closed in, and vast nets of tangled branches threatened to cut them into hundreds of pieces.

But Kiran quickly strengthened his armor and encased him entirely in a hardy construct while he remained still.

Kiran endured the blow only to for the vast net of branches to realize it couldn’t pierce Kiran unless it focused all its might into him. And so it did, burrowing deeply into Kiran’s leg, releasing a flood of budding tendrils.

The moment those tendrils entire his leg, Kiran said he heard whispers. The will of the net of branches vying for control over his mind and body.

So they ran.

But as they did, an entire swarm of human-like creatures made from rotted droppings of trees, a blend of bark, branches, and leaves sprouted forth from the net and chased them endlessly. They were weak, probably the average of First Ordeal in physical strength — Osias fiercely slaughtered them as Kiran handled his own worries. But the spores they released upon touch threatened both Kiran and Osias alike, fortunately only hitting Kiran.

Osias struggled as he alone held the rear for once as they ran. The swarm of these rotted underwood creatures pounced on him relentlessly, and those who made it past him piled onto Kiran ardently. They cut close many times, especially when Kiran’s concentration waned and the crimson armor that protected Osias so dearly began to slightly disperse.

But as Osias saw the brief signs of this, he knew he’d die — made into a mindless thrall as his body rotted atop the mass net of underwood. Trampled upon as he died.

So he fought with a terrible zeal, ripping off the swarm as he rushed to Kiran, slaughtering the ones that gathered around his elder brother.

They killed and they ran, yet the creatures never relented in their chase.

…Until Kiran severed his corrupted leg, and suddenly the whispers that tainted his mind were erased, leaving behind a leg covered in a myriad of branches that flailed widely in the throes of its death.

Together, they massacred the swarm, just enough so the foul underwood beast relented and willed what was left of the swarm to retreat.

Osias sighed deeply, relieving just a fragment of the stress that burdened him as they continued to march. He felt terribly weak after overcoming another brush with death.

The swarm… they tested a facet of harrowing strength and power that both he and Kiran were lacking against.

Those that affected the mind. Powers that sought to corrupt and control them, rendering their entire beings into slaves and thralls.

It was a dreadful power. An even more dreadful death — no, perhaps they wouldn’t die.

Perhaps they’ll forever be damned as a rotted tool for a creature that lingers under the sunless embrace of the mist, gathering the next pair of fools who dared travel such forsaken lands.

Osias sighed once more, as he wearily lifted his gaze.

To his dismay, the darkened mist seemed to reach its absolute darkest, the black nadir of the sunless mist.

‘Night’ befell the land below the mist unbeknownst to Osias in the time that they escaped from the swarm. Somehow their surroundings miraculously grew even darker, rendering Osias even more helpless than he already was.

Adding to the deep blindness that overwhelmed his being was exhaustion. He was tired, thoroughly so. They did not rejoice in a moment of rest even as they escaped from countless creatures that lay here.

Hours have passed, and Osias must’ve been sleepless for more than an entire day. Long ago had his mind and body grown tired. He was an Ordinary. Despite his evergrowing reservoir and the strength that came along with that growth, he was still an Ordinary… Endless marching as he wearily tensed at everything they came across, even his own shadow wasn’t safe from his distrust.

Osias would catch himself looking behind him thinking that his own shadow would suddenly turn into a sickly wraith that’ll drive the shadow of his short sword deep into his back.

…The land had taken a heavy toll on him it seemed. Exhaustion clouded his mind and coiled tightly against his heart.

Rest, how nice it would be?

Through his drooping eyelids, Osias stared at the back of Kiran who marched as usual… his elder brother was still as stalwart and indomitable as ever, perhaps even more as his leg seemed to grow back in its entirety.

Though… it was almost unsettling how composed Kiran remained. Unwavered at everything, even waving off severing his own leg. All it took was a slight grimace before he lopped it off. And instead of a pained groan or face, Kiran showed a silent sign of relief.

After countless hours of being tortured by the harrowing whispers net of forest fallings, resisting its control and enthrallment as he fought and ran. Kiran also did this all the while retaining concentration upon the armor that covered Osias as he endured a battering from the creatures who broke past Osias’s rearguard.

Kiran couldn’t hide the countless clawing rasps against his arm to keep himself from succumbing to the whispers of the underwood.

Osias knew, of course, that his brother disparaged his words, belittling the effect of the underwood’s enthrallment despite saying long afterward that it was among the most powerful he had experienced thus far.

And yet after all that, Kiran marched as he healed from his wounds. Both what lay ahead and what has passed didn’t matter, as he continued to keep moving.

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Osias sighed as he watched Kiran’s back, ‘Survive. Survive and live.’

“Here,” Kiran said, breaking their wearisome pace.

Osias lifted his gaze to meet Kiran’s face. But Kiran was looking towards a vast silhouette close enough to where even Osias could see despite the blanket of sunless mist covering it.

…A rising of earth and stone too big to be a mere hill, but too small to call it a mountain.

“A crag, a wall of uprisen stone. We’ll rest briefly here at the bottom after I scout around.” Kiran added wearily.

Osias’s knees buckled, the word ‘rest’ was enough to knock the embers of strength that kept him moving.

“Stay against the stone, I won’t be far.”

“Mm.”

So Osias brought himself against the stone as Kiran disembarked.

But he couldn’t leisurely rest, not until Kiran returned.

His hollow gaze followed the outlines of his surroundings. The grip on his short sword never weakened. It was the last stretch before he could relish the sweet clasps of respite.

He waited, ready to pounce on anything that dared to ruin the reward he so direly deserved, and needed.

But as he eagerly waited, his ears perked up from within the crimson helm.

Tumbling rocks from above the… crag of stone. Far above from where his measly eyes could pierce through the dark cloak of mist.

‘From above?’ He quickly thought as he dashed away being directly below the crag.

Small rocks continued to roll noisily down the steep wall, breaking the eerie silence as it echoed in the mist close to where he once stood. Turning around he poised himself to the source of the noise, but it turned out to be Kiran… scaling downwards from beyond where he could see.

It seemed that Kiran routed far away and climbed from there before descending to where he stood guard.

“Rest. Tomorrow will be long.” Kiran said as he reached the ground.

Osias’s mouth twitched and curled upwards. That was all he needed to hear.

So he brought himself right against the wall of rugged stones once more and collapsed in exhaustion. He paid no heed to how disgusting he smelt and how painful his wounds were, such things paled to the overarching exhaustion that plagued him.

And without more words, he welcomed sleep and entered the embrace of slumber.

‘What dreams will I find this time?’ He fleetingly thought…

—

“Up, we need to go,” Kiran said as he kicked up awake.

Alarmed, he shot to his feet, a habit that has been thoroughly hammered into his being after so long in the Outer Valleys.

Osias grudgingly rubbed his eyes through the familiar small slits through his helm… it seemed Kiran maintained the armor as he slept.

The sunless expanse was a little brighter compared to before he slept. But regardless of his surroundings, Osias was invigorated — sleep did wonders to his mind.

He quickly examined the flow of his essence as he closed his hands into a fist repeatedly and lifted his legs.

And within moments he was ready as Kiran had already begun to lead him away from the rugged crag that guarded his back.

In his head, he silently sung his praises to the stones for providing a crude, but much-needed shelter as they began their march north.

“Brother, how much land have we put past us?”

“I don’t know. The mist throws my senses into disarray.” Kiran dismissed coldly.

Osias paused briefly before asking:

“Are you sure we’re headed north?”

“Perhaps.”

Osias shook his head to himself in response to the dire hopes they had of leaving the mist alive.

“Hey brother, when can I undergo my First Ordeal?” He asked, changing the subject.

The question itched his head. It was almost his Fourteenth moon — a period when a third moon joined Laria and Dirus in the night sky. It was their pale blue mother, Carmine.

Carmine only appeared for a brief period, sometimes for a week whenever a year passed before leaving her children once more. The tradition of moon ages was counted upon the next appearance of Carmine after they were born. However, Osias was born in this brief period, so Carmine’s appearance was more accurate of his true age than others…

He remembered that many of the other youth would undergo an Ordeal around this age, either their Fifteenth or Fourteenth moon. And if they lived, they’d awake and return valiantly as First Bloods for the Band.

“Until you could kill Second Ordeal Path Beast on your own,” Kiran said between careful steps through a small clearing.

Osias frowned deeply at those words. A Second Ordeal Path Beast… as an Ordinary human? Is his brother mad? Did all this time in the mist take away from his judgment?

Also, all alone. Without the crimson armor that saved his life multiple times — his lifeline. A mere swipe from among the weakest physically among them was enough to kill him.

It seemed so far above himself to even face a Path Beast that needed a Second Blood commanding a unit to kill comfortably.

Or perhaps a unit of strong First Bloods.

But then again… if Osias thought back to the time atop the summit, he was able to wound such beasts with his blade. The difference in strength wasn’t absolute.

Despite his weaker body and weapon, it was enough to hold them back until Kiran finished them off for him. So if he had to face a Second Ordeal beast, the weakest of their kind, than he could see himself slaying it.

Osias silently laughed to himself. It sounded like he was a rash fool, among the likes to overestimate themselves in battle. But he genuinely thought he had a chance.

Perhaps he could ambush it, or catch one while it feasted upon a carcass. Osias could even scheme against it and lay a trap powerful enough to kill it.

The weakest beast of the Second Ordeal… it would probably be something that barely had an edge in physical strength compared to a strong First Ordeal beast. It may have two abilities, but if Osias came upon one that had something weak or something he could counter, than he could kill it.

All he had to do was kill one without Kiran’s help. And then he would finally be in a position to undergo his First Ordeal.

But cutting through his wandering thoughts, Kiran added in a low voice:

“Or when you could land a clean blow against me.”

Osias glanced at his brother’s back in disbelief as he said that.

It seemed arrogant and haughty with how aloof his brother sounded as he said it. But it seemed more impossible than killing a Second Ordeal beast.

To fight Kiran as an enemy, it was impossible. Osias knew he shouldn’t call it as such so promptly, but Kiran… Kiran was someone he couldn’t fight.

Osias has never seen Kiran fight another person, but he himself experienced and caught faint glimpses of how his brother fought against people. All those weeks, battered and pummeled on the mountainside and then on top of the summit, Osias knew he couldn’t contest Kiran.

Not once has the edge of his sword come close to touching the frays of Kiran’s cloak.

Although many times they have come across foes that injured Kiran, that was only because they were beasts. Faster, stronger, more in numbers, beings that other Second Ordeal Path Finders had no reason to face against — Third Ordeals and multiple Second Ordeals at once.

It was unheard of. Kiran was experienced beyond his age, and Osias had a frightening suspicion that he had yet to see Kiran’s full strength.

He recalled what Kiran said a long time ago, ‘Even I have secrets I cannot tell you…’

Osias shuddered a little at the thought have fighting his brother in order to land just a single blow.

Osias would need time. An impossible amount of time that he didn’t have to spare.

Enough time to further refine his use of essence.

Enough time to hone his sword techniques.

Enough time for his reservoir to draw upon the abundance of essence housed in his tattoos to push his Ordinary body to the limit.

All those pieces together… only then can he then at least put up a fight. Settling on improving just one aspect wasn’t enough.

Both his essence control and sword techniques were years upon years away from matching Kiran. And if he relied on his body’s slow increase in physical strength it was nothing but digging himself into a hole, after all, Kiran was far ahead with that same advantage.

However, that leads to another question… how strong was Kiran’s body?

Middle of the Second?

At the peak, nearing the Third?

Above that?

If so, how far above the Second Ordeal was Kiran’s body?

…Regardless, no matter what he thought of, he couldn’t see himself landing a clean blow against Kiran.

And so he wistfully thought as he watched Kiran’s back, ‘How would I kill Kiran if I had to…’