Jace pushed through the undergrowth, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Even if he wasn’t actually here, on some planet on the opposite side of the galaxy, it felt like he was. The grass-trees rustled and distant flowers shook, and they sounded real as ever.

It was just him that was different. His body was partially translucent, and circuitboard-like lines ran across his skin, glowing golden and holding the projection of him in place. Maybe he’d find a trail at some point—that’d be nice—but his hopes weren’t high.

As soon as he started to worry that he might not find anything—that the Split had dropped him out in a wilderness already clear of darklings—the giant blades of grass ahead of him shook.

A creature leapt out of the fronds. It was slightly more humanoid than the darklings he had seen so far. It had red scaly flesh and a maw of sharp teeth, and a spine of feathers ran down its hunched back. It carried rusty daggers.

But it still had to be a darkling of some kind. Its skin was decaying, and black liquid dibbled out of its mouth. Its eyes were empty voids of rotting darkness.

The tag [Level 10 Vratghoul] appeared above its head.

The creature charged. It lashed out with its daggers, and Jace stumbled backwards. He nearly fell back onto his hands, but he adjusted his stance and caught his balance. He drew the bayonet—it was smaller, lighter, and better to react to small threats with—and blocked the creature’s first knife. He punched it in the nose before it could stab him with its second knife.

He’d already defeated worse creatures.

It staggered back a few feet. Jace glanced at the bayonet. The knife of the creature—a vratghoul?—had carved a deep notch in the quivering bayonet blade. Any more of this, and the bayonet would take serious damage. He drew his Whistling Blade with his other hand, and before he could think better of it, he slashed at the creature. It held up its knives, but the sword’s edge glowed white and screamed in a painfully un-sonorous tune. It slashed straight through the knives and cleaved the creature’s body in half.

The creature fell to the ground and writhed silently for a moment, before its body crumbled away into black dust.

All around him, the grass tree-trunks began to sway. He narrowed his eyes. More creatures like the one he had just killed charged through the forest, converging on the path. They held crude weapons (scimitars, clubs, daggers, and hammers), and some wore mismatched, rusting armour.

Jace tucked his bayonet into his belt and took a two-handed stance with the Whistling Blade. The next creature leapt out of the trees, but he hacked it in half. Another approached from behind. He spun around with the unwieldy weapon, accidentally cutting down a tree-sized stalk of grass as he turned. He slashed the creature from head to hip.

Jace, don’t worry about the vratghouls!

The voice resonated deep in the back of his mind, but it also echoed around him. It was faint, but…it was unmistakably Lessa’s voice.

There’s a larger darkling around somewhere that the Split called you to defeat. I feel a larger presence just ahead of you…oh! Kinfild says that if you defeat it, the Vault Core will consider your work done and send you back!

The creatures poured through the forest. Every second, another appeared. He stabbed one through the gut, then looked ahead through the woods. He didn’t see the end of them, and more of the creatures were moving to block his way—they were the ones he needed to fight.

He raised the Whistling Blade and sprinted forward. The first vratghoul, he slashed through, and the next, he impaled. The Whistling Blade hissed and burned. It tried to sing, but his movements were erratic, and the broad sweeps weren’t conducive to a pleasant melody.

Ahead of him, there was an opening—another clearing. But the crowd of vratghoulds spilling out of the woods was growing thicker, as if guarding the clearing. He needed to plow through them with a hyperspace jump, but…without his vambraces, he didn’t trust himself to make it out the other side with his arms intact.

“Lessa?” he yelled. He kept running, slashing and impaling vratghouls. “Can you hear me?”

I hear you, she replied.

“Can you put the vambraces on my arms?” If he could bring his clothes and weapons with him, surely he could bring vambraces. But if he was already inside the vault? It might not even work. Maybe his projection wouldn’t adjust to any additions. But it was worth a try.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

The armour gauntlet things? I—uh, yes, I can.

One of the vratghouls swung a club at him. He held up the Whisltling Blade to block it, but instead, he sliced straight through the weapon. The club’s head fell off and nearly struck him in the chest. He stepped to the side to avoid it, breaking out of his sprint. The vratghouls behind him converged. He hacked through one, then pushed its decaying body into the rest.

A vratghoul in front swung a hammer at him. This time, Jace raised his arm to block it. It would hurt, but it would be better than cutting the hammer’s head free with the Whistling Blade and dropping it on himself.

He braced for a blunt impact, but right before the hammer struck, one of the stolen vambraces appeared on his arm. A clang rang through the forest. Jace slashed up through the creature—a messy cut—then swung down at the next vratghoul and cut it in two.

Just in time! Lessa called. Next one is almost on, and…oh, there we go! That was easy!

The other vambrace appeared. Jace didn’t waste a moment. He followed the short mental checklist he had made for preparing for a hyperspace jump: he raised his arms, tucked his head, concentrated on his target (the clearing), and pushed his Aes in the right way to activate the technique card, shifting his new cycling technique just slightly.

The card appeared, and he snatched it out of the air.

In a blink, he rammed through his targets. He travelled too fast to feel each impact, and when he emerged on the other side of the vratghouls, it felt like he had tried to stop a bull with his bare arms.

But he was through. He had passed all of the vratghouls, and had gotten himself into the clearing. He turned around to face his pursuers.

Before they could all storm into the clearing, a deep howl rumbled from beneath the earth. The rest of the vratghouls stopped in place, then turned and sprinted away, shrieking and hollering.

Cautiously, Jace turned around. The new clearing was bigger than the one he had arrived at. The Luna Wrath could’ve fit across it twice and still had a little room to spare. He returned both hands to the hilt of the Whistling Blade. The trial wasn’t over yet. He hadn’t finished the Vault, that much was certain.

The ground shook. Dirt crumbled, and the center of the clearing ruptured. Clumps of dirt flew in all directions. Short blades of grass fluttered through the air.

Jace fell onto his back. He pushed himself back to the edge of the clearing until the stalks of the grass-trees pressed against his back. The silhouette of an enormous vratghoul loomed beneath the storm of dirt and stone, and it was nearly twice his height. Mud clung to the few scales it had left. Its hideous face bent into a smile, and it held a massive spiked club.

[Level 13 Elite Vratghoul] read the tag above its head.

Jace pushed himself up to his feet. The creature might be big, but it could still die. He raised the Whistling Blade, ready to charge at it. But before he could charge, the vratghoul slammed its club down at the ground.

The shock flung Jace backwards. He sailed through the air and slid along the ground. The giant vratghoul swung its club again, about to mash Jace into the ground. He rolled to the side just in time, but one of the metal spikes of the club sliced the back of his hand.

Jace leapt to his feet. To keep himself from wiping his bleeding hand on the back of his pants (it wouldn’t be good to show up at a party with bloodstained clothes), he tightened his grip on his sword.

You’re bleeding out here, too! Lessa exclaimed.

Jace had guessed as much, but he didn’t say anything. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on the vratghoul. If he couldn’t get close to it, he couldn’t kill it. He needed to disarm it.

“Can you tell me anything about it?” Jace yelled.

It’s got high Strength and low Agility. High Vital rating, too!

The vratghoul swept its club sideways at Jace’s head. He dropped down to a crouch, then slashed upward with the Whistling Blade. It cleaved the tip off the club. Before the vratghoul could swipe back the other way, Jace jumped back.

The creature kept swinging, and he ducked out of the way. He sliced another chunk off the end of its club. The process repeated over and over again. Dodge, hack, dodge, cut.

When the vratghoul only had a stump of a club left, Jace took his chance. He stabbed the Whistling Blade through the creature’s hands. It dropped the stump and reeled backwards, screeching. It spun around and tried to swat Jace with the back of its hand.

Jace barely raised the Whistling Blade in time. The blade wasn’t moving, however, and its cutting edge didn’t heat up. The vratghoul’s hand pushed the blunt back of the sword into Jace’s nose. He stumbled backward, but didn’t fall.

As the vratghoul’s hand pulled away, Jace raised the Whistling Blade and slashed it down through the creature’s wrist. He didn’t cut the whole hand off, but he cut a searing line through the wrist. It cried out and reared up, straightening its back and exposing its gut.

Jace ran forwards. He thrust his arms outwards. The tip of the Whistling Blade sank into the ghoul’s gut. He pushed it as deep as he could, then twisted the weapon and ripped it free. The creature fell beside him. He turned, then raised the Whistling Blade, ready to hack its head off. A gut wound never killed instantly, no matter how incapacitated his foe was. It would be merciful to kill it quickly.

With a quick slash, he cut its head off. A spasm wracked its body, then it fell still and disintegrated into black dust.

Jace’s mouth fell open. He fell to his knees, panting. But the colour and light bled from his surroundings, and the shadows hardened, as if someone had just turned up the contrast on the world. Then everything went dark.

There was a rising sensation, then, moments later, the soil of the dreamspace plane appeared beneath his feet. He turned in a circle, making sure everything was alright and intact. As best as he could tell, it was the same plane as before, and nothing had gone wrong.

He’d completed the Vault successfully.

He concentrated on his eyes and forced them open.