It took them almost thirty minutes of walking through the remains of humans and beasts to reach the end of the tunnel. Tristan was not familiar with sewer systems, despite that being one of the things that his parents managed in the Forest Caldera. He had just assumed that it disappeared somehow.

That assumption was wrong. A metal grate blocked the end of the tunnel, and beyond that was a large pit. It currently was partially full of rain water and crab goo, but the walls were scorched black. Tristan realized that they disposed of the waste by burning it to ash. The sheer amount of flames needed led him to believe that it was most likely a tier four or higher artifact that was responsible.

The sewer was clear of crabs, though that was likely because until a few hours ago, there was no food here. It would not take long for the smaller ones to make their way in once they realized what was here. Tristan looked at the sewer grate, it had a hinge, though it was locked right now. He cut the lock and pushed it open.

Bruce stopped him from poking his head out, “I am not fishing that hammer out of the filth if you fall.”

Tristan could understand that, however he was not sure that swimming through feces was worse than wading through assorted human and animal pieces. Bruce grabbed something set into the wall of the pit. He pulled a few times to see if it would support his weight, then stepped onto it.

Tristan followed him out. A ladder made out of metal was set into the wall. It looked like it was made to maintain the pit or allow workers to get to the grate to clean out potential clogs. Despite its decrepit appearance, the ladder still held Tristan’s considerable weight. Eve got on behind him and they started climbing.

After a short climb, the three of them found themselves outside the city, but only just. They were immediately spotted by three different ghost crabs. Fortunately the weren’t the terrifying forces of nature that the guard crabs were. Two tier ones and a tier three would have been a problem before, but they were armed very differently.

Tristan went after a tier two. Bruce’s spear would be way better than a couple of knives at handling the tier three. It took less than a minute to to all three down. More of the crabs on the wall had noticed what was going on and started over.

“There’s no point in staying to fight,” Bruce said, eyeing the crabs coming towards them, “Let’s go get Clive.”

It was only a five mile run back to the farming community. Some of the crabs gave chase, but the majority of them went after the dead crabs. The lesser crabs had trouble keeping up with them, they just weren’t suited for pursuit and endurance hunting. Humans were, making it relatively simple to out pace them.

Several ghost crabs did come from the opposite direction and they were easy enough to deal with. It did restart the cycle of more and more crabs showing up, being attracted by the cadavers. Fortunately, this journey was much shorter.

In less than an hour, they had made it back to the farmers community. They quickly found the bunk house that Clive was in because smoke was coming out of its chimney. Tristan wondered why it had a wood burning stove. Crops did not grow in the winter so why would anyone be out here.

Bruce banged on the door, “Clive! It’s Bruce let us in.”

There was a few minutes where the sound of moving furniture and crates of food could be heard. Soon Clive unbarred the door and swung it open.

Clive smiled when he saw them, “I’m glad you made, uhh.” He winced and gagged, “why do you smell like sewage.”

Tristan had forgotten that they smelled like death. He had spent enough time soaked in the fluids of a crab that his brain had started filtering out the scent. Once Clive brought it back to their attention they started smelling it as well. Tristan wished he hadn’t said anything.

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They did have the money to buy new clothes in the lake caldera, but they were stuck like this for now. It took Bruce several attempts to get Clive to let them inside. He had to order the farmer to move before he finally let them in. Tristan did not really care how Clive felt, as the man had not really cared how he felt when it mattered.

Still Tristan chose a bunk far in the back and dropped the hammer on the floor, before flopping down on it. He was sorely tempted to run off with the hammer. Unlike a few years ago, he had a plausible way to reach tier five, just get in enough dangerous situations and, boom, he’d be tier five in just a few years. If he then used the essence in the hammer to get to tier six, then no one in the caldera would mess with him.

It was a bad idea though. If he was struggling with mindless crabs, while having the admittedly meager support of the Caldera, he would most certainly die without them. He was starting to notice a pattern that should have been obvious to him. Breaking his kern left him helpless, which meant that it was not a feasible solution unless friendly people were around to save him. Luke had said the backlash would get easier and easier to handle, but exhaustion was still exhaustion.

It was as if the world was designed to make people pay for their power. If Tristan wanted to be strong, he would have to pay with pain. Looking at it objectively Tristan was glad that pain was the payment necessary. It meant that he would rise higher and faster than most others.

The following morning, they did not eat a warm breakfast. Clive simply woke them up and handed them some dried vegetables bars. They were odd inventions, he would pound vegetables into a paste and place the resulting substance into a pan set over a fire to dry. Once the concoction was dry he used Tristans knives to cut them into strips. The bars were brittle so most other knives would not work to cut it.

Clive was a decent cook so the flavor palate at least matched. That was the only good thing Tristan could say about it. He missed Grace’s cooking.

The two day march went slightly faster than planned. As Bruce and Eve absorbed the essence in their various artifacts, they gradually became stronger. While this did not increase the speed of their slowest member, it did allow them to carry his baggage. With less need to take a rest, the insane stamina of the light kern demonstrated itself.

Tristan was slightly jealous that Clive, with his soft life, could march all day. He had practiced for years to achieve the same thing. Each type of kern had its advantages and disadvantages. Tristan had only just started to realize the positive things that his kern offered him. Namely, he could take a beating, which most people would not see as a benefit.

Clive sped up to walk beside Tristan, who was between Bruce and Eve, “Hey, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened.”

Tristan frowned, not quite understanding what the man was talking about. He knew that he had a grudge with Clive. However, from Clive’s point of view, Tristan had done a lot of crazy things both good and bad. He knew Clive was timid, he was nice, not kind and that was a very important difference. Clive would help a stranger who asked for help, but he would not warn that same stranger of their own self destructive habits. In short he wanted to be good without conflict, which was impossible.

“I’m sorry? What for,” Tristan asked.

Clive shuddered, this little bit of conversation was taking a substantial amount of energy, “I am sorry for abandoning you.”

Again, this did not really narrow things down, Tristan could think of four times that exact thing had happened. The first was a second hand statement from Harp, the second was when they were running towards the farming community, third was inside that same community, he had cowered in a corner with Bruce and Eve while he fought the crabs, and lastly when Vin destroyed the bridges. The only one that he even thought about was the first one, Clive was so bad at combat that he would have only served as a single use meat shield.

Tristan also did not hold the Harp incident against him. Well, he no longer held malice. Tristan still took petty pleasure in Clive’s misfortune and had no desire to befriend the man. He had promised himself that he would punch the man, and he had. Now he would be apathetic at best to the man.

Clive took a deep breath and continued, “I am sorry for abandoning you. Harp cried for a long time, but I told her to stay away, she was not even supposed to give you your parent’s address. The Golden Heart boy was supposed to do that.”

Maybe apathy was too soft, Tristan glared at Clive, “You are a weak man, I am not talking about your body, but your mind. You take the easiest path and not the one you believe in. Grow a spine before you talk to me again, or at least ask your daughter to do it.”

Was it fair, probably not. However Clive had made him angry, he had poked a mostly healed wound and Tristan would not take that peacefully.