– Beginning of Arc 8, Eternal Grudge –

– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Rising Sun, Day 68 –

Terry was sitting on the floor in his healing chamber with his notebooks scattered all around him. Whenever he put down his pen, he sneakily guided a bit of his mana into his Guardian card and signaling cube. Feeling the connections with his friends and family brought a wide smile to his face.

Terry was still under house arrest, enforced by a nefarious coalition of his healers and parents. He didn’t mind it so much anymore – not when feeling the long-missed connections in his signaling devices.

He still felt useless, but his healing was proceeding smoothly thanks to the new situation.

The army of constructs that were defending the city at the moment didn’t require any healing. The defending forces hadn’t suffered any significant injuries ever since his family had arrived, which had freed up the local healers, and that was only one part of his accelerated recovery.

Bjorln and Samuel had added their own abilities and stockpiles to the healing team. Brynn had hired Mia to issue a new mission at the Guild in Arcana to recruit and transport capable healers with specialized abilities targeted to Terry’s circumstances.

Despite all the positives, a slight frown found its way on Terry’s face occasionally. He was still missing a few connections before he could call his Guardian card restored. He hadn’t even met all of his Arcanian friends and family that had come to his rescue. Some had accepted tasks outside the city before Terry had a chance to see them.

Terry took a deep breath. They were supposed to return soon and then he would get a chance to express his gratitude.

If the newly arrived healers from the Guild were as competent as they were expensive, he would be liberated from his house arrest and could properly spend some time with everyone.

Terry’s face contorted with a well-worn unsatisfied expression. Even though he had gotten over the worst, he was not supposed to stress his mana channels and senses for a while. Even if that didn’t leave him entirely useless, it still left him feeling stagnant.

His Aunt Brynn had promised him some proper equipment eventually, and he was sure that it would strengthen him, but that still felt unsatisfactory. Powerful items weren’t truly his own power, even if the skill to wield them was.

He had always tried to find exercises that helped him train multiple aspects together, but if he wasn’t able to push his mana control and throughput, then his reliance on items would increase without corresponding benefits to his power without items.

Terry’s eyes drifted towards a pile of books next to his notebooks. Some he had bought when he had intended to leave the Freedom Cooperative. Others had been gifted to him after he had become Freedom’s Guardian and the symbol of the city’s defense.

Terry wasn’t able to do much, but he could still read. The more he thought about the predicament facing him for the foreseeable future, the more his mind settled on a single idea.

The books were all his references on body inscriptions.

Terry knew he could count on the local experts to share their information with him, and he now had his aunt and uncle present to ask for advice as well.

None of this addressed the fundamental risk that came with unorthodox mana use, but Terry had an idea for that. The problem was that his idea would be something difficult to communicate to… anyone, really.

To anyone that cared about him at least. Terry still remembered the concerned look of his aunt Sigille when he had first broached the idea of starting resistance training.

To Terry, it appeared perfectly fine. After all, he had already submitted himself to much worse. The regular aspect resistance training had been outright pleasant compared to his efforts in the Elusive Fog of Frost.

In Terry’s mind, it appeared perfectly logical. He was forced to submit to constant healing anyway, so whatever damage he was causing to his body would be healed alongside his deeper injuries.

Sure, it might hurt, but that was something he had gotten used to.

A memory surfaced from Terry’s subconscious mind. ‘Devon, what the Wastes?!’ Lizzy stomped back into the secret crafter’s room of Poppy. ‘Why is there a finger in the trash bin?!’

Terry involuntarily grimaced.

I’m really turning into Devon’s little brother, aren’t I?

If Lizzy and the Captain were to hear that Terry was taking inspiration from Devon, of all people, they would probably sign onto the ever-growing list of people demanding his house arrest.

I should carefully consider how to present my idea…

***

Edmund sighed wearily. During their first encounters, he had thought few people could be as frustrating as the Guardian. Now, he was beginning to understand where the young man had gotten it from. “I’m grateful for your help, but—”

“No but,” barked Isille. She glared at the present representatives of the city state. “The city has to be evacuated.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Edmund rubbed his eyes.

“Then make it possible,” retorted Isille. “We can buy you the time.”

“This is our city,” hissed Intira. “This is our home.”

“A city we saved,” hissed Isille right back. She and the elven hunter were staring daggers at each other.

“And we’re grateful for that!” A woman from the Knights of Labors hurriedly added. “But…” She stopped herself when she spotted Isille’s deepening glower.

The repeated ‘but’-s made Isille’s eye twitch.

“You have seen our city.” Akemi spoke up.

Seeing the healer that had cared for Terry’s injuries before their arrival caused Isille’s expression to soften, and the dwarven woman nodded.

“Did you happen to see the manaless?” continued Akemi. “Perhaps even some elderly manaless?” While the dwarven woman in front of her was nodding along, Akemi made her point: “This city is stubborn. They will not leave. Neither are the people that have flocked here since the Guardian made a stand.”

Isille couldn’t help but glower at the healer that had appeared so reasonable earlier. “‘The Guardian’? Your ‘Guardian’ is my son, and this city has worked him nearly to death. I’m proud of him, both as a Guardian instructor and as his mother, but don’t you all dare hide behind him any longer.”

Edmund sighed again. “We’re not hiding—”

“The Venerable Elder has a plan,” interjected a smug martialist elder. His interjection caused many of the participants to groan.

For a moment, Isille just glowered at the martialist with her finger shaking in an impotent waggle of barely suppressed anger and irritation. “You just keep your mouth shut!”

Now it was the elder’s turn to wrestle with his temper. If this irritating woman hadn’t been close to the Venerable Elder, then he would challenge her to combat right now. “You may claim to be his mother, but the Returnee is obviously cut of a different cloth.”

“You…” Isille stepped closer to the martialist.

“Dear, focus.” A soft voice from the back of the room brought Isille back to her senses. Bjorln smiled at his wife before looking at the martialist. “What’s with this ‘Returnee’ crap?”

“An appropriate title for the Venerable Elder,” replied the martialist. “In more ways than one.” He smiled knowingly, as if he was in on a secret the others weren’t privy to. “Even if the Returnee’s fleshly body belongs to your son, his soul is mightier than you can imagine.”

Isille frowned. The martialist sounded insane, but something about his pointed words caused her to pause. She would have to add that to the long list of topics to discuss with Terry.

“The Venerable Elder has his reasons,” said the martialist. “He chose this place and it would be wise to not question his decisions.”

Edmund forced himself to interject before this could get out of hand. “I have to agree on one point.” He suppressed the reflex to wince when finding himself again the target of Isille’s glare. “I sympathize with your pain after seeing your son come to harm, but we didn’t force him to fight. He chose to fight.”

“He could have left many times, but he didn’t,” agreed Akemi. “Instead, he kept volunteering for the tasks that no one else could take on.”

“A born trailbreaker,” interjected another dwarven woman from another corner of the room. The Thanatos soldier had perfectly positioned herself to observe both Isille and Bjorln. Ruby would not miss this chance to observe the alleged parents of the Whetstone Arcanian up close.

“You…” Isille pointed at Ruby. “Stay out of it, Thanatos. My nose tells me that you and your Mad Empire had something to do with the false leads I had to wade through to find my son.”

Ruby appeared amused until she found Isille right in front of her. The Arcanian dwarf with snow white hair had crossed the whole room in a single step thanks to her magic equipment.

“You’re lucky that I found my boy alive,” growled Isille. “If anything happens to him, I will come for you first. Now shut up while I’m speaking to those that actually have a right to decide this city’s fate.”

Ruby forced herself to step closer to Isille. “Thanatos doesn’t bow to threats.”

“I don’t care about bowing.” Isille leaned in to glare at Ruby. “I know that if I give the order, not a single Thanatos soldier would make it past the constructs alive. I’m sure you understand your situation. Whatever your business in this city is, stay out of our way.”

Isille stepped back into the center of the room and looked over the representatives. “You should understand your situation as well. We’re here to rescue my son and return him to his home. We will not stay here forever.”

“Lady Isille…” Akemi bit her lips. “I think you should talk to your son.” She smiled wryly. “Because I can’t picture him abandoning this city.”

Isille’s expression darkened. The healer had hit a nerve. She couldn’t picture Terry doing that either, which was why she was pressing the evacuation to begin with. “I don’t need to talk to him to know that you are right.” Her words turned from soft to hard. “Which is precisely why I’m here to make you understand. Terry doesn’t care about the city. He wouldn’t. He cares about the people here.” Which was why she couldn’t let them dismiss the evacuation as an option.

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Isille took a deep breath. “You have to understand the situation you’re in. Even if Terry decides to give his life to defend this place. Even if we decide to follow him to do the same. It wouldn’t suffice.”

Isille clasped her hands in front of her and took a deep breath to search for the right words. “You have seen the constructs that Whaka Brynn brought. We are a force to be reckoned with, sure. We can buy enough time to evacuate everyone in the city, but…”

Isille looked from person to person. “We are just a family coming to pick up one of our own. We don’t have the backing of an empire.” She gestured to emphasize the last word. “That is what you are facing. An empire! You are facing the Lich Kingdoms! Get that through your heads!”

Isille shook her head. “We can hold out against the first duchess coming. Perhaps even the next two, but against all five of the Unholy Duchesses?” She scoffed. “Your country doesn’t have the materials to repair the constructs after battles of such scales. We’re not poor, but we don’t have the resources to face the bloody Lich Kingdoms for you.”

Isille spread her arms wide. “How do you think this will end? The Five Unholy Duchesses are hardly the only force in the Lich Kingdoms. If you want to face an empire, you need an empire! Let me emphasize that we are from Arcana, but we do not represent it.”

Isille lowered her arms again. “Without the backing of an empire, this country is doomed, no matter if we choose to ally with you or not. We can help you evacuate, but we alone cannot win against the Lich Kingdoms. Not in the long run.”

“Why isn’t the Union mobilizing in force?” interjected Bjorln, while moving his fingers through his snow-white beard. “They had enough time by now.”

Edmund sighed again. “Even under the old king, our country had little standing in the Union. We’re part of the periphery and not very influential, given our relative size. We don’t have the pull. And that was before…” He looked at the representative from the Knights of Labor and let his voice trail off.

“Our Freedom Cooperative has not even been recognized as a member yet,” said the female politician sadly. “Many other members are refusing to deal with us as representatives instead of with the royal family of the Bloodborne Kingdom.”

“Great.” Isille rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Just great timing everywhere.”

“I can’t believe the Union has learned nothing from the Lich Kingdoms’ last uprising,” groaned Bjorln. “Do they really want to wait until it’s too late again before confronting the external threat with a unified front?” He looked over the gathered participants. “A country being invaded and all the Union can muster are a few martial sects?”

Intira snorted and spoke with self-deprecation. “You have that wrong, snowflake. The Union has not sent these martial sects. They came to help the Guardian. Nothing to do with the Union.”

Isille and Bjorln could read in the faces of the martialists present that the statement was entirely accurate. Another topic to add to the list of things to talk about with their son. What the Wastes had Terry done to have so many martialists rally to his call?

***

“This way…” Terry grinned widely while guiding his siblings and Siling to another side-street. Even though he was still stuck in a city under siege, he was happier than he had been in years.

He was allowed a bit of time outside his healing chamber. His friends and family were with him. He was munching on delicious chocolate that he could share with them.

His mana sense had recovered enough that he could avoid running into martialist loonies without overtaxing himself. Another positive development to be appreciated.

Terry abruptly stopped when he realized where he was taking the other three in his attempt to avoid anyone interrupting his happy time. His brain ground to a halt. Seeing all the posters of the deceased disturbed his breathing.

“That’s…” Siling swallowed the mouthful of chocolate. “Dark.”

“So many…” muttered Jorg solemnly.

“Are you okay?” Lori looked at Terry with concern.

Terry realized he had clenched his fists, and that they had been shaking. He took a deep breath and relaxed his hands.

His name was Georg.

Terry felt as if the faces on the long wall of lament were judging him. Judging him to be inadequate for the task he had volunteered for.

“That man was one of my healers,” explained Terry and pointed. “He was murdered in front of me. He was only there because of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” stressed Siling.

“None of these were your fault,” added Lori.

“Perhaps, but they’ve become my responsibility,” muttered Terry, and continued walking without looking at the others.

Jorg and the others shared a glance. They all had a feeling that it wouldn’t be as simple as picking up Terry and returning home. The longer they stayed, the more they were sure of it.

Jorg sped up to walk next to his brother and quietly placed a hand on Terry’s back. The other two were not far behind his steps.

“You know, you still owe us a few explanations.” Siling spoke up in a sharply different tone that betrayed her intentions to change the topic. “I know that the big talk is supposed to happen when everyone is back again, but I still can’t believe that the Valkyrie asked for you by name.”

“Did you really help her escape from a prison dungeon?” asked Lori.

“Yeah, how did you get from searching for a blood tulip to breaking out the Valkyrie?” asked Jorg. “And then to a damned City of Proving in Thanatos only to end up at the eastern edge of the Free Factions Union?”

Terry puffed his cheeks and shrugged. “Running, mostly. Or at least that’s what it felt like.”

So much running.

Running and running.

“You’re shitting me,” grumbled Jorg.

“Well, running, dungeon shenanigans, looney lizans and martialist bullshit…” Terry counted with his fingers. “That about sums it up.”

“Lizans?” Siling raised an eyebrow.

“How looney?” asked Lori with narrowed eyes.

“What’s this about dungeon shenanigans?” asked Jorg with an anxious expression.

“Uhm…” Terry sighed. He wanted to explain, but he also wanted to just enjoy the precious time out of his room. Reliving all the bullshit from the past few years didn’t seem that enjoyable to him. “Why don’t you tell me more about what happened with all of you instead? I’ll have to tell my story later anyway, but with you, I’m the only one out of the loop.”

Mid-sentence, Terry jerked his head around. He finished his sentence while staring absentmindedly towards a direction that only held a house wall to the regular eye.

“Well, if we’re talking about important news…” Jorg grinned and nudged Lori with his elbow. “Someone has something to tell you about Miguel.”

Lori blushed slightly and glared at Jorg before inhaling to explain.

“I think Miguel and the others have just returned,” muttered Terry.

***

“Terry!” “Good to see you!” “You’ve caused quite the ruckus.” “Glad you’re okay.”

A group comprising Miguel, Tiana, Emaldine, and Elena hurried their steps when they saw Terry and the others.

“I wish we could catch up now, but…” Miguel looked from Lori to Terry, then to Siling. He cleared his throat. “But I don’t think this can wait.”

Terry nodded. He could see that something had unsettled everyone.

“Siling, where’s your ma?” asked Emaldine. “I think we should get her for this.”

“My mom?” Siling furrowed her brow. “Why?”

“Are you sure we should really make the report in front of the locals?” Miguel asked Emaldine. “Who knows what wrong idea they will draw from this?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Emaldine. “Hiding it just makes it seem suspicious. We don’t know what’s going on, so we just lay it out in the open.”

“My brother said the same,” agreed Tiana.

“I would agree,” added Elena. “People don’t like being lied to.” She hugged Lori as a greeting.

“I’m not talking about lying, but we don’t have to draw attention to it,” said Miguel. “I’m just worried about how they’ll take this information.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry,” said Tiana, who was walking over to Terry and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure that the mighty Guardian of the Freedom Cooperative can resolve all misunderstandings for us.”

Terry winced both from the slight prick of lightning escaping Tiana’s palm and, even more so, from the cringeworthy rumors that were spreading to his friends. “Please stop. Pretty please.”

***

In a room full of representatives from the Freedom Cooperative and the entire group from Arcana, the scouting troop explained what they had learned. They first focused on the dry details regarding the Spirited Duchess and the movements of her army.

Only afterwards, Miguel took over from Chadwick and Emaldine. “There is one more thing.” His eyes drifted subconsciously from Siling to Daiyu and back. “I don’t know how to best say this, but…” He took a deep breath. “That Spirited Duchess looked exactly like Siling.”

“What?” Siling furrowed her brow.

“No.” A whispered whimper escaped from Daiyu while her face paled.

“Treachery,” hissed Hector. He and a few other hunters stood up. “They’re with the Kingdoms.” Some even drew their weapons.

Isille and Bjorln quickly positioned themselves in front of Siling.

“You shut your useless mouth!” A shout brought everyone to a halt.

Terry hadn’t even realized that he had stood up. He winced in pain from having moved too much mana subconsciously while he was glaring at Hector. “Siling is one of my oldest friends. You might as well address your insults to me, because I trust them more than I trust every single one of you hunters.” He pointed at him. “Don’t you dare to forget that it was one of your hunters that allied with the Hound to trap me! If you have a problem with my friends, you have a problem with me!”

Terry was furious beyond belief. His friends and family had come here to help and now they’re being insulted by the kind of piss-ant that had defended child-beating scum. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that it was your brother that betrayed the code of the Whisperer and that you covered for him. Try and see what happens if any of you piss-ants dares to draw a weapon on my family again!”

“Hound?” Lori and Jorg were shooting concerned glances at their human brother. “Trap?”

Isille and Bjorln, too, were surprised by the aggressive reaction and loud outburst from their son.

“Easy, Guardian.” Intira tried to intervene. “Hector, stand down.”

“We have enough worries without fighting among ourselves,” added Edmund in a calming tone. “Even if there are still traitors among us, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“You really shouldn’t,” said Ruby from the back of the room. She and another soldier from Thanatos were also present for the meeting. “That kind of division is exactly what the Lich Kingdoms are aiming for when they utilize their sleeping assets.”

“You would know, huh?” Isille glowered at the dwarven soldier in her crimson uniform.

“Yes, I would,” replied Ruby with a smirk before turning to face Hector. “And for what it’s worth, none of our intel would confirm your fears. That much I can share freely. These Arcanians are not with the Lich Kingdoms.” She moved her eyes pointedly to Daiyu. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“What do you…?” Intira caught on to Ruby’s gaze and looked at the pale elven Guardian from Arcana. Daiyu’s hands were shaking.

“No.” Daiyu pleaded quietly to no one in particular. “Impossible… even if… he wouldn’t… can’t be… not even to… impossible…”

Miguel loudly cleared his throat. “As I was saying, the Spirited Duchess looks exactly like Siling, if Siling was a soul spirit.”

“NO!” exclaimed Daiyu, and she started hyperventilating with bloodshot eyes.

“Mom?” Siling was at a complete loss for what was going on.

“An elven soul spirit?” muttered Intira. “Abominable.”

“Damned Kingdoms,” cursed Edmund.

“Mom!” Siling jumped from her chair to catch her mother, who had fainted from agitation. A complete mental breakdown.

All around the room, people were glancing at each other.

“So our intel was right,” muttered Ruby.

“She didn’t know.” The other Thanatos soldier whispered to Ruby.

“Yes, I can see that,” said Ruby.

“See what?” Isille glared at the Thanatos soldiers. “How about you share that intel with us?”

Ruby shrugged. “Didn’t I do that already?” She looked at Hector and then pointed at the unconscious Daiyu. “That woman a traitor? On the contrary. I believe you will find no stauncher ally against the Lich Kingdoms than that woman. Few people can muster as much hatred for the Kingdoms as one of their fugitives, especially if it’s a mother whose child the Hounds infected with the karmic rot.”

“What?” Siling looked up from her mother to stare at the dwarven soldier. “I don’t…”

“Not you,” stressed Ruby. “Your twin sister.”

“My what?!” Siling suddenly grimaced when her head hurt intensely while her thoughts were getting blurry.

“Stop it,” barked Terry. “Let them rest.” He thought it would be better for Siling and Daiyu to have a private conversation first. “We can continue later.”

Before the room cleared out, Terry walked up to his parents. “I have to talk to you.” He resolved himself for a difficult conversation. Difficult, but it had to be done. Now more than ever. “I want to try something and I think you won’t like it, but I’ll have to do it, anyway. I just want advice. Can you come to my healing chamber with Uncle Samuel and Aunt Brynn later?”

Terry forced his voice to remain firm despite the growing glare on Isille’s face and the pitying concern on Bjorln’s. He hadn’t heard the full story about the Spirited Duchess’s relation to Siling yet, but he had heard enough.

He refused to stay stagnant with shit like this being added to everyone’s plate. Siling was one of his oldest friends and she had not hesitated to come to his help. He did not know much about Daiyu, but he knew that she, too, had risked her life by coming here. Terry would be damned to just stay useless on the sidelines if that unholy duchess was truly Siling’s sister.

***