Elmer sat on a patch of grass beneath a tree, his thoughts slowed down to a crawl as he stared—with an expression that appeared pained—at his quivering and sweaty palms.

He had hoped to see Mabel, but the landlord’s words had kept ringing in his ears. And if they were honestly of any truth, then he could not risk putting her in danger because of himself—or that was just what he had claimed as the reason. But the reality was just that he could not bring himself to go near her the way he was.

An Ascender of the Pathway of Souls? It made him feel dead inside. How could he be in the same pathway as those priests, as the people who had turned her into a shell?

Patsy had told him joining a pathway was the equivalent of serving the God of that pathway, so what did that make him now? A devout believer of the Pathway of Souls, or something along that line? Would Mabel hate him now if she could see what he had become?

Elmer exhaled and leaned back on the tree, looking up at the bright and silvery crescent moon through the small gaps of the canopies which were spread out over his head.

Should he have gone ahead to the Black Market instead? He shook his head. That would only endanger the people there when the Lost came after him, given the credentiality of what his landlord had said. Who knew how many casualties such an action would cost.

This danger he as a person now possessed was what had spurred him to take a carriage to the outskirts of the city, somewhere ways away from where humans dwelled.

But still, what could he do by himself?

He remembered the Lost he had seen on the night he and Patsy had done their little sneak around, and that thing had the sight of a monster that could rip him apart without trying.

Maybe he should have gone to the police instead? Would that be right? As Ascenders of other pathways weren’t allowed in this city wouldn’t that just be him exposing his situation and putting himself up for eviction from Ur? That was out of it. The police would be more trouble than help.

What about looking for an Ascender? But he was an Ascender. Pathway of Souls or not, shouldn’t he be feeling some sort of surge of strength or speed like Patsy had said the Ascenders had? Or was he a failure in that part as well? And even if he looked for one they would probably treat him the same way as the police would. Not favorable as well.

Elmer yawned, took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with the base of his palm before putting them back on. The cool breeze of the forest and the silence of night, which was touched by the chirping of insects, were eating into him. He would love nothing more than a shut eye at this moment. If only he could—even just briefly…

Suddenly, a loud screech pierced through the air, forcing Elmer’s eyes, which had drifted close, open as it ripped through the forest’s stillness while leaving behind an eerie echo in its wake.

How could he have fallen asleep?!

His heartbeat raced as he quickly reached for the revolver he had kept beside him and jumped to his feet, holding the grip tightly with both his palms and setting it forward while his eyes darted about the forest delicately.

The rustle of leaves filled Elmer’s now-attentive ears as the winds whooshed forebodingly, all of a sudden devoid of the cool breeze it had had prior to the screech.

Where was it? Elmer wondered as his hair stood upright on his nape and arms. He needed to know where the Lost would come out from so he could run, hide, or do anything else than waiting here. Little hope was what he had for the revolver he tightly clutched. He had never used one before, and how was he sure it could really help him?

The screech came again, this time barely audible, but it no doubt sent shivers down Elmer’s spine still.

“It won’t rush out,” Elmer whispered to himself with tremors in his voice as he pressed his elbows into his side, trying to make his body fit in with the width of the tree. “It won’t rush out,” he told himself again, hoping and wishing after flinching at the spooky rustle of an underbrush down his side.

A sign. All he needed was a sign so he could run in the opposite direction—just like last time.

But through the eerie quiet and with another screech—one louder than any Elmer had ever heard—he saw a figure with a bashed face suddenly pounce out from the darkness of night, streaking its way through the silver lights of the moon as it flashed toward him.

Elmer froze, his heart caught in his throat and his back glued to the tree.

What was this? Why was it rushing out?!

The Lost swung its long claws at his head with one more deafening screech, and Elmer instinctively ducked and rolled out of the way with a quick nimbleness.

A loud thud echoed as the monster disappeared into the dark places of the forest, scurrying about like an animal—a predator—through the bushes where the moonlight had no access.

When Elmer came to—which was very quickly—he gasped with widened eyes at the sight that appeared before him. The tree had been slashed in half… by claws?

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Out of impulse, he reached for his neck and felt for his head. Confirming that they were still present he let out an exhale, then quickly scooped up his revolver, sprung to his feet, and turned the other direction as his legs muscles tightened in preparation to run. At that moment, another screech bellowed ahead of him.

But how? The Lost had just slashed the tree behind him, how come it was already in front of him?

His legs rooted to the spot as his breaths bursted in and out. Where should he run to now? Left or right? His eyes glanced between his sides frantically before he came to a fairly quick decision…

Right…

He turned deftly on his heels, planting his toes strongly as he propelled himself into a dash. But he was not far gone before his decision came back to haunt him.

Straight ahead in the middle of a few trees was the figure of a naked man with a mutilated face, hollow eye sockets, and a goat-like horn sprouting from his forehead.

Its appearance tightened Elmer’s chest and put a stop to his attempt to escape—though not completely.

Elmer squirmed backwards, forcing his frenzied thoughts to align themselves into one new decision: Left…

But just as he was about to go down the route stemmed from his newest chosen option, the monstrosity before him took on another horrifying behavior which paralyzed Elmer to the spot.

The Lost sprinted toward him, its legs moving in such an attuned rhythmic motion that it had the resemblance of the rotation of a wheel. It was so fluid, so perfect, that Elmer’s joints pricked as though they wondered how much pain such a movement would cause. But nonetheless, it was coming.

Right now, Elmer knew he could not run. Turning his back to this monster with the speed it was approaching him at would be nothing but suicide. He had seen a horse run once at Meadbray, and this thing was moving faster than one. He had to do something else. He had to—

Elmer remembered he held a revolver in his hand. He quickly took a stance with an exhale and pointed it at the approaching Lost. He waited, holding his ground as it charged at him while the sweat which dampened his forehead grew cold. It had to get close, just well enough so that he would have a fair amount of confidence in his shot.

With a loud screech roaring into his lugholes Elmer deemed the Lost to have approached a good firing range, and with that he pulled the trigger—only, it clicked. There was no shot.

Elmer’s chest seized and he immediately leapt out of the way, landing on a root with his gut which blew out all the air in his lungs, as the Lost sped past him and into the darkness once again, after swiping a breathtaking slash of its claws that it cut through the wind itself.

What just happened…?

Elmer ran himself into a query as he rolled onto his back before springing up to his knees.

Why did the revolver not fire…?

Elmer shook his head. There was no time to think, the Lost could come back at any moment.

Elmer jumped to his feet, but just as he was about to put his heels to work, he halted. His vision was blurry. He quickly rubbed his palm over his eyes and noticed that his glasses were missing.

Blimey…!

Elmer fell back to the ground and ran his hands through the dirt and fallen leaves desperately searching for his glasses.

His hand felt his revolver first, and through his blindness his finger mistakenly pulled on something, startling him for a brief moment before he resumed his searching once again.

He did not have the time to worry about the gun.

The Lost screeched again, announcing that it was about to come for him, and Elmer deepened his probing with the hastened thumping of his heart.

Then he felt it.

With a short sigh of relief, he quickly picked up his glasses and put them on. But just as he was about to hurry off, the Lost appeared before him as though it had never been away, its dark and hollow eye sockets gazing at Elmer with an uncanny sensation that his mind immediately went blank.

Then it let out a harrowing screech at the frozen Elmer, a foul stench making its way out of its flesh-sewn mouth and plummeting the new Ascender into dismal thoughts.

Was this it? Was he going to die here? Now?

Pathetic… Elmer inhaled sharply at the remembrance of that word.

No!

Elmer glimpsed the Lost’s shoulder twitch and he quickly snapped free from his ice cage, letting himself fall freely backwards to the ground like a log of wood as the Lost suddenly lurched its claws at him from his side. Then he quickly reached beside him and grabbed hold of the revolver he had left on the ground, pointing it up at the towering failed Ascender.

The revolver had to fire this time. It had to.

He pulled the trigger, and the golden symbols about the revolver glowed, bringing with that action a loud bang which was followed up by a squeal of torment as the Lost above him spilled its goo of blood all over his body.

It worked.

Elmer almost smiled, forgetting all his sorrows—and dirt—but instead he pulled the trigger again and again and again, until all that was left were clicking sounds.

He had deafened his ears to the monster’s cries. But now that he was done firing, all that had faded as well, and the lifeless body of a Lost lay before him.

Elmer exhaled, his heart pounding in a deep rage as he dragged himself to a tree and sat against it. The exhaustion kicked in soon after and the realization that he had just ended a life, Lost or not.

Through hardened breaths, he looked over at the naked body, probing it with tired eyes.

The thing had been human once. It was just a person who had failed to Ascend, and was now stuck roaming the woods, attacking Ascenders.

Why, though? Why did Losts attack Ascenders who were not in the city’s pathway? Elmer sighed at the thought.

What were the chances he could have become one too? He was glad he had not, but he wished the risk he had taken had paid him in kind, then, he would not be taking the life of a Lost, instead he would have already been searching for a way to help Mabel.

He shook his head and peered down at his bloodied body, then he showed his revolver to his eyes. He had wasted all the bullets on one Lost, what would happen if more came? He let out a breath and dropped the revolver on his lap, then he took off his glasses and wiped it free of the traces of blood that had clouded it.