Sunlight, dragging, heat, horizon, exhaustion, wasteland.

All these words were able to describe how this journey of a man was, as he dragged along the half-alive nurse, heading westwards. The sun was high up, likely around 12 at this point, or 2 O' Clock.

Breath cut down by the dozen, sweat dripping off his chin, forehead, back and all the parts covered, it all became annoying and tiring.

He looked back to the far-away hospital that he left minutes ago; only to notice that it was no longer there.

Disappeared? No.

He was just simply far away.

What's the difference...?

No matter... she has a pulse, but didn't wake up. There has been no signs of life besides that. So maybe he could wake her up...?

The blood had long stopped flowing as a result of the seams on her face—a result of the detonator. Maybe just her organs that were crushed? Was her mind not damaged or affected? What of the bones? Her lungs were clearly damaged from lack of breathable oxygen, but none of her ribs broke.

Either that or they are fully-healed.

Vetro's voice broke through Zabulus' thought process as he thought;

'Maybe you need to drop her, Zabu, you may be underestimating the danger she represents.'

"What danger? she couldn't kill me with that shit she doped me with. And that collar bomb probably killed her. I don't know why I'm wasting my time bringing her along, really."

Vetro said, 'I wouldn't consider that a death, more of a shock to the heart, damaging the soul and brain more than her flesh. Besides, that collar did what it's supposed to... I can assume, I've seen something similar to this before, Phantos has shown me things like it.'

"I don't want to hear about your life story now, I've seen enough."

'Why don't you just take a break?' He spoke.

"Ugh." A short sound that showed his distaste towards the idea.

'What? Pride too much to relax for a little while? This isn't some kind of duty for you to complete in some crazy rush! You should know this, after everything we've done to get to this point—not even knowing how long it actually was.'

"If you say it's fine to take a break, then maybe I'll listen to you just this once. I'm rather exhausted after all."

As if a proud father... no. As if an older brother speaking to his younger brother, who always looked out for him, Vetro jumped in joy internally, literally.

This was new for him. Zabulus of all people would listen to him?

Then he recalled, maybe he shouldn't be so happy. This was the same man who killed his child... though perhaps it was through some sort of bond that they created through sharing a soul that he began to care less about that.

Zabulus knew of this fact; for those who are trapped within him are those who are trapped within his own consciousness as well—yet not always are they connected, it's a great influence as if someone speaks to them and reaches for them; that Zabulus was the same, and couldn't hide his own thoughts or anything related.

Few things that were truly separate.

One, the 'line' of events. That was only between him and whoever would be in control of the body. It was always blurry and resembled a void between the souls. It was more akin to the flow of consciousness, things that must happen at all times, and were mandatory to maintain. It had a balance to it, that the souls did by themselves.

Two, the psyche and mind. Where one would remain while the body was active, where they would talk with one another. All the other souls are forced into the conscious state while the body is asleep, though they can be silent and not talk, he heard their every crooked, demented, insane, word.

He knew how everyone's mind and personality was. The life they lived. How they died. What their ambitions are, their morals. Their feelings towards others, his existence especially.

They didn't make it known. But he knew.

He saw it coming. Saw him turn mad, go crazy and fall into the pit of hatred that would take him forever. He wished he could stop this from ever happening, to avoid any unnecessary pain for others—but perhaps that was wishful thinking.

He saw what he did.

One could see what they were capable of, for good and for bad.

Part of that is what makes humans weak. What made them feel lost and betrayed by life. To lose all hope. What differentiates the insane from the sane?

It all goes into the pool, and is thrown together—picked, chosen and split apart. Jaws pulled wide open. And the last nail in the coffin.

And as weakness is a terrible thing for the body—a terrible thing for a soldier, that regardless makes one human in their soul. And to be precise, the human weakness is vastly different from the animal weakness.

For example, animals fight and feed each other to death. That is the way of the universe—to sustain itself and its lifeforms. To be weak as an animal is to be normal, as death is only natural to the weaker party. Animals fight over the right to reproduce and expand and thrive. The ones who do the killing and devour each other usually become the strongest and the kings of the food chain—an inevitable outcome that is what one would see as cruel and sadistic.

For humanity, and for any race with souls, is that there will always be some form of struggle. A mental struggle. A mental development. Humans make their environments safer—their rules. They are bound by law to become complicit in society and maintain the peaceful existence of a collective, they are the reasons that they are divided and hate those they are different.

Humans can become weak physically, but can and will reproduce regardless. They have no needs that animals do. They are not primal, the only thing is their environment. As with those that are unkind and harshly disciplined and abused; they live and die and have children and give them a chance of a better life—even when it comes to family and history, humans are fundementally a para-social group. That the most a soul can hold or stand out to the rest are the ones with the strongest personalities or abilities.

If one falls, the next one is already there waiting to replace them, and if it is deemed fit; may become superior or at the very least the same. For many are like insects on this world, and only a select few are the hunters, and the rest are the hunted.

Some think to rise beyond those roles, some think that they can defy nature and create their own worlds.

Which makes them no different from animals; as this world is cyclic, a great reset is always bound to happen once a threshold of energy is hit. The souls get scattered, or fade away. The animals die, but their remnants live. As with every piece of the world, a piece lives and the rest is rebuilt to serve as a foundation for the new.

Everything is recycled, everything is one and the same and works together.

Every now and again, it is known that all life that existed previously will still exist to come. Nothing ends, but nothing can last either, not like the dead souls are sentient anymore anyway. Not even the ones that exist for all eternity, for what would come, is bound to die again anyway.

The answer lies in the center; where nothing truly matters. And once that center is attained, then maybe it would be like the rest.

And that place will not last.

…

With his back against a fence, he rested and laid the corpse next to him as if he was taking a nap.

Taking a deep breath and relaxing, he looked at the bright sky.

"This is annoying... How much is left for us, right now?"

"..."

"Selective hearing, Vetro?"

"..."

"Fucker..." Zabulus whispered and closed his 'eyes' and focused.

"Who were you talking to?" An unexpected voice woke up him, but he quickly identified it.

He jumped up and looked to his right; where the supposed body lay.

There, sitting up, staring at him.

"First time seeing a nurse bleed out and come back to life, boyo?"

Unexpectedly calm, Onofre sat back and yawned.

"...It's not my first time seeing a half dead person..."

"Ah, I wasn't half dead. I was just pretending to be. It's the least I could do." There was an undertone of a threat within her tone, "I guess it worked then, hm?"

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Indeed, but to feign death like that? Why? Not as a trap, perhaps? A trap on me, but I could just run."

"Ah yes. Yes, a trap, but not one where I am in control. Maybe you'll learn soon enough." Onofre was sure she meant something deeper with her cryptic response.

He had many ideas and conclusions on that.

One... She was an undead that was born from her anger—his presence could've created it. Or that she was already there beyond his control.

Two... She was another god, or a demon, an entity like him or someone who could be, that was taking control of his thoughts.

Three, perhaps an illusion from within his consciousness or a fake.

'Young lamb, you aren't so inclined to let this one go, aren't ya?! Naaaahaaaa! I'd laugh if she actually kills you like that.' That same decrepit voice spoke to him from behind Onofre.

A hallucination? A real soul or soul fragment inside her? Was she the same person?!

"Why do you look so on-guard, boyo? Something's not sitting with you, perhaps?"

He was having trouble deciding what the truth was before Onofre stood up, making him freeze in fear.

"Hah! As if, I know a little bit about you... Not that I could tell you where from though!" She chuckled at herself for that small inside joke as she seemed to glance up for a second, seemingly in the direction of the skies. "Oh right, the moon. Yeah, I was just making it seem as if I didn't see that."

"...What are you talking about now? Moon?"

"Yep! Shiny white light hanging around the sky, there's thirteen moons around here. This moon right here is just one of many."

"13?"

"Exactly, 13."

He was dumbfounded for a moment, blinking repeatedly with a scrunched-up expression, "That doesn't make sense, how does that add up, or does it? 13 of what, exactly?"

"Moons, of course. Thirteen Moons; The Moonlight that reflects the void in blue."

She continued her nonsensical, poetic response, which further added to Zabulus' confusion, "A person once saw it—the dull gaping mouth in the sky, a mouth with thirteen teeth, and thirteen moons, which the eyes saw. That, the pupils opened, and became white, becoming thirteen moons—The body disintegrated, all in thirteen seconds, that, the brain dissolved. With thirteen shards in the eye's mouth. One iris and one sclera. Thus, thirteen. One hundred and thirty-three moons reflected in thirteen sands of an hourglass; There was a greater black, no end."

"...And what came of that? Who told you about that, where were they?" He found a shred of interest within the words of mystery, the booklet that she spoke of was certainly odd, and not the result of a sane mind, that's for certain, he thought to himself.

"In my mind. Oh, but first off, to answer your question: A theory, though perhaps just a simple explanation that anyone on this planet could have, would be that it is one and the same, there is simply an alignment of multiple moons that show the reflection of each of these 13, or it could simply be that some may not even be seen by you here, perhaps behind an enormous body blocking them. Who knows, the answer can change. However, in reality, no one can get ahold of an accurate theory; the infinite possibilities are far too high and varied. That, only the gods may know. Unfortunately, the information was given to us in the form of a booklet; an enigmatic message from unknown seers."

She stood up.

"Whatever the case, it isn't really necessary to know the exact answer, really. Only knowing enough is good, if there isn't a true reason to be bothered by it." She cleaned off her clothes a little, although the fact of being dragged for hours on end did make the fabric and skin somewhat dirtied and dry. Her clothing consisted of everything white, as a nurse would have; from her head down to her shoes—only being a dark purple and light grey color palette.

"Hmm..." As Zabulus thought to himself, what even was that hospital anyways?

"Oh, and, before you ask, that place was no hospital. It's actually my own little experimental clinic!"

"Your own? How'd you manage to get access to all that tech and space?"

"Huh? No... I mean! It was Kilgore's, really! His estate, but that's besides the point. I could tell you who Kilgore is, but where's the fun in telling you directly?"

"How about you tell me something in exchange for almost ending my life? If not, I'll end yours." Zabulus was bold with his statement; which earned a mocking chuckle from Onofre.

"Good thing is... It never would have worked."

"Wha...-"

"Listen." Leaning her back against the fence, she looked towards the distance, seeing what looked to be... Nothing? "You see, I know you are incapable of death."

"Who are you to know that?! Are you... are you that damned corpse... is that why even after being blown up from the inside that- That you didn't die?!" His guard fully rose in an instant.

She brushed it off, not turning, as if the conversation was bland to her or she knew something about his question. She chose to reply as if there was nothing unusual.

"Perhaps so, but no, I don't know who you're talking about. To be entirely honest, I am currently voiding my own mission, where I was required to bring you somewhere... But, you know, boyo. I just felt something with you. Like a mutual respect and bond?... Do you get it or is this a complete mess? Either way... Let's call it an acquaintance's relationship from here on. That we won't be too harmful to each other."

"...Then, who are you, really?"

"A Parahuman."

"A what, now?"

"Means that... I'm a Parahuman, what else do you think I meant? Don't tell me... you don't know what a Parahuman is."

"No... Why would I know?"

"Hahhh..." She sighed and stretched a little bit, "There, there, boyo. Don't feel bad that you don't know what's basic knowledge here, 'Parahuman', in the loosest term and most general terms, would mean that I was born within the Library; created to serve the world. An oddity to your ears? What is a Librarian to do? Well, I'm in no position to explain it. but I'm sure you'll know as well, soon enough."

Taking in the scenery around them, the wind blew lightly, letting them bask in silence and peace for a few moments. The sound of grass flying over the plain area was the only source of sound at the moment.

"So..." It was Zabulus who finally broke the quietness with his small whisper-like voice. "Do you actually have any way of getting to wherever I want?"

"Huh? No, I'm not leaving this place, but I can show you around, if that's fine?"

"Hmph..."

She suddenly stood up.

"What?" She questioned him.

She brought her arm to the air, stretching them above her head—making a small cracking noise within the arm joints, it echoed faintly within the quietness of the area. She quickly did the same motion and pose for her other hand, this time with less noise, and went on with her act as if that had never happened. She continued the motions towards her arms, then to her shoulders, her torso and neck.

It was as if he never responded, for his mind drifted elsewhere—or his train of thought completely derailed into an unknown course, or was perhaps distracted by the minute, unconscious and foreign voices and screams that have always been stuck within his mind for the past eon, or day—to his perception, that was yet to be clear, but he was aware that not much has passed in the span of a couple of seconds.

Was it strange to hear so many voices within the void that his consciousness lingered in when he slept? Though those voices had always been in the back of his mind while he was awake; a constant disturbance within his thoughts.

Then, she spoke, "What are you waiting for then? We still have a long way to walk. The kingdom's only 734 Kilometers away! It should only be two days of straight running."

His voice slightly faltered before he uttered, "Yeah, it'll probably just take some hours if I'm moving fast enough."

"You aren't."

"Then slow down a little, fucking dammit. Don't rush me."

"Would it kill ya to talk with me more?"

"...The answer to that would have to be no, unfortunately. It is unfortunate to not have a mindless entity that has no thought or mind to understand me."

"...Boyo, we're gonna have a loooooong long talk. No silent treatments on this trip."

"...Well fuck, it's not as if I'll be ignoring you for your amusement, I simply prefer to be in peace."

"Haha! Did you, perhaps, call me a nuisance? This is no time for pouting. Besides, you haven't tried interacting with me."

Suddenly, as if fighting an urge, Zabulus put a hand up to his left eye, his long nail traced over the top eyelid; near the orbit. He had taken the time to look around him in search of something... perhaps he was lost in his own thought, perhaps it was to keep a lookout, who knows at this point. His movement and strange behavior wasn't something unfamiliar or different in this short amount of time.

"You okay? We just started walking, maybe you didn't get to rest?"

As she moved, her posture turned stiff, her feet were planted onto the ground—looking as if the ground was glue and the air around her was solid and cold metal; yet only momentarily, and at the next she would relax her entire body, making her movements akin to flowing water. For whatever reason.

Zabulus fell to his knees, "Ah! Urghh..." A sharp stinging, itchy, painful, unpleasant feeling. The sharp and sudden influx of stimuli suddenly left his brain blank. His vision became blurry. His chest ached, it hurt—burned. Everything in his body fought as his psyche told him to kill her.

Why?

Why did he fight back against it?

It's not like he had anything to gain by keeping her at his side.

She was making him weaker.

Yet... She seemed to help.

She wasn't trying to help. He knew, deep down, her intentions. But her words were genuine. While she did try to hurt him at first; her reasoning seemed to be unorthodox. She may have been genuine. Or maybe just another illusion his mind created... but even illusions can be truths, regardless of where the information was attained.

"Ahhh... AAHHHHH!" And thus, the chains fell apart. Slowly, he'd surely rip them from the core to let his free will take over. But it wasn't going to be such a quick process, it was only one chain out of thousands.

He remembered; Guillerme, Idalia, Vetro... and, Alice.

If only he could see her smiling face again... the girl who did everything in her power, her strength just for him, but why did he wish for such happiness? For such an evil mind as his...

"Hey! Wake up! Hey!"

Another voice emerged in the back of his head—she had already been at his side, tapping on the side of his face in an attempt to wake him. It felt as if he was sleeping.

"Guh! huh? What... where am I?"

"You're right with me, don't worry. Let's take a seat and rest more before you have to walk further." She led him by the arm and guided him closer towards a tree, sitting him down. He then suddenly felt tired as the blood rushed down from his brain. He took a moment of rest.

They sat facing the morning sun.

"Are you feeling better, Boyo?" She asked.

"Much so. The memories that linger have become stronger. Things I have ignored... I... I'll speak about it later."

She raised an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes, "Something tells me... apple!"

"...Yeah?"

"So your name is 'Apples'?"

"What? No. That's... not my name. My name's Zabulus."

"Wait, it is?! Uuuuuuugh... never mind... sorry..."

She dragged her voice throughout the long silence, Zabulus thought to himself—her words may mean that maybe she already knew him for quite some time, just that he didn't know her. After all, it wasn't unthinkable to believe that she knew him. This wasn't the first time anyway...

As to which, was now known that they seemed to have a decent sense of commonality between each other. The sense of 'recognizing the self.' One could only wonder what those were, for now—

It was unknown.

However, that also may be just an ill-conceived thought.

He let his 'eyes' rest a little as he felt Onofre's head fall on his shoulder, he quickly noticed how the sunlight on her pink hair had changed to a blue tint.

With the small hint that gave him, the realization hit his mind; there was not a single shadow from the sunlight's direction anywhere else. He looked down at his hands and noticed it was not only his—as, the majority of his body, no matter the location, there were no shadows casted upon any part. He let the little streams of light come onto his vision. As if there was no atmosphere between the star and his eyes, nor air.

It was truly odd, but maybe that was simply the nature of this place, he figured.

Slowly... from the distance they'd look like two lovebirds falling asleep together under a tree.

Slowly... his head also fell.