9. The Outrealmer

“Something the matter, sweetcheeks?” The man’s disheveled face brightened slightly into a faint smile. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“First of all, stop calling me ‘sweetcheeks’ if you know what’s good for you,” Serac fired back, her disdain momentarily overriding her slack-jawed bewilderment, “and second, what’s a Manusya like you doing all the way down in the lowest pits of Naraka?”

“Ooh, a little feisty, aren’t you? I can work with that.” The man finally dragged himself to his feet, flashing his rescuer what he no doubt intended as a winning smile. With his soggy hair and puke-covered attire, however, the only effect it had on said rescuer was to tempt her with the thought of socking him in the jaw. To his credit, he looked like he could take it, now towering over Serac at his full height.

“How about you answer my question before I lose my patience?” The Rakshasa snapped with obvious displeasure. “I’m already starting to regret not listening to—er, not leaving you inside that sac for the rest of eternity.”

“But you haven’t answered my question yet,” The Manusya retorted with casual ease.

“About?”

“About this invisible friend of yours.” The man’s smile widened a touch. “Care to introduce me?”

Serac frowned, momentarily lost for words. It’d been an age since she’d spoken to any physical entity not named Porky, and she evidently needed to work off some rust.

Besides which, just what was she supposed to say? That her invisible friend was actually the six-shooter in her hand? If only Trippy had briefed her on this very—

“Careful, Serac Edin.” That was when Trippy himself offered his timely opinion. “There’s no use hiding from another Wayfarer the fact you’re paired to a Deific Instrument, but that doesn’t mean you should go around advertising our… particular arrangement.”

“I was just—” Oops. I was just thinking the same thing.

“Then you’re not entirely hopeless. All the more reason for you to heed me well. The simplest and most prudent thing here would be to ignore this man and go on our way.”

And if Serac had kept to being as much of a pragmatist as she fancied herself to be, she would’ve followed Trippy’s advice, no question asked. But unbeknownst even to her, she was no longer the same Serac Edin that had once cowered under her Jailer’s blank stares and phlegmy grunts.

As it turned out, her pragmatism had been but a defense mechanism of sorts. Freed from her jail cell and buoyed by new and yet untapped power, Serac slowly but surely allowed more of her truer nature to come to the fore.

The true Serac was above all else a curious soul, perhaps even at the cost of self-preservation. And what could’ve tickled her curiosity more than to have met an outrealmer this far down in the depths of hell—and not just any outrealmer but a fellow Wayfarer to boot?

So, she heard Trippy’s advice, agreed with the wisdom of it, then decided to go her own way.

“I was just talking to myself,” she said, finishing her sentence rather differently to how she’d started it. “It’s just something I do and nothing for you to worry about. Now your turn. Who are you and how did you end up here? I can already tell you haven’t been here as long as the other inmates.”

“Feisty and observant,” the man said with a wink, then his smile faltered as he struggled to unstick his gunky eyelids. “Well, seeing as how we’ve both got Pathsight, there’s no use beating around the bush, is there? You saw my Karma Deficit and could probably put two and two together.”

-15,950 क in Karma deficit. Given the rookie numbers Serac had been working with so far, it was hard to fathom how one might go about canceling a debt of that amount—let alone incur it in the first place.

“Zacarias Borges-Juventus at your service,” the man continued, looking far too pleased for someone in such dire Karmic straits, “and yes, I started my Wayfaring ways somewhere far, far away from here—and well ahead of you, I might add. But I might’ve been just a teensy bit too self-indulgent with my vices, which… well, one thing led to another, and now I’m here. What can I say? I like my women like I like my wine: full-bodied and constantly flowing!”

Serac nearly threw up in her mouth, and this time, it had nothing to do with the smell of dried vomit emanating from one Zacarias Borges-Juventus. Somewhere inside her head, Trippy let out an audible groan.

“So… you’re telling me you drank and whored your way from Manesfera all the way down to Naraka? All the way into negative Karma in the ten-thousands?” I didn’t even know you could get negative Karma, but I guess it makes sense. “How much… how many… you know what, I don’t want to know.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Don’t you?” Zacarias Borges-Juventus said with all the air of someone making small talk about their occupation. Then he eyed his Rakshasa rescuer up and down with a knowing look. “You know, if you’re not too busy right now, I could show you exactly how I managed to—”

Serac didn’t so much as hesitate as she raised REVOLVER and pointed its barrel at Zacarias’s hornless head. The Manusya continued to smile irreverently, but he at least had the grace to raise both of his hands in mock surrender.

“Fine,” he said breezily, “I believe you. You don’t want to know, at least not as much as you originally claimed to, anyway.”

Serac was careful to keep her expression neutral as she slowly lowered her gun, but she couldn’t help but feel that her fellow Wayfarer had gotten one over her somehow.

“He’s not telling the whole truth.”

About the wine or the women?

“Both.”

Serac had figured as much, even without Trippy’s prompting. But she also knew she’d lost her window for a fuller interrogation. I asked him not to pry about my monologues. And now he’s shut down inquiries about the reasons for his ‘Karma Deficit’. I guess we’re sort of even. Respecting each other’s privacy is just… common courtesy, isn’t it? Even among Wayfarers?

Trippy didn’t say anything. Which told her that he at least somewhat agreed with her. Besides, when it came to ‘not telling the whole truth’, Trippy of all souls would just be the pot calling the kettle black.

“Fine,” Serac echoed Zacarias the self-proclaimed alcoholic womanizer. “Then how about we get down to business? You said you could help me make it to the surface, but what good are you to me all puke-covered and empty-handed? In fact”—she eyed the Manusya up and down with a quizzical look—“where is your, um, ‘Erudite’ Instrument? VISAGE, was it? Don’t you carry it with you?”

“That’s just the thing, sweet—ahem, Horn-girl. That’s the whole reason I’m here, specifically. In this literal hellhole of a prison. You see, some jackass nicked VISAGE from me when I was just minding my business up on the surface. I ended up having to chase him all the way down here, and before I could get to the bastard, I got mobbed and thrown into that bird cage over there. And that’s how you found me, Horn-girl, my knight in not-so-shining armor.”

Serac frowned as she wrestled with multiple reactions at once, chief among which was concern about her new moniker of ‘Horn-girl’, which… she wasn’t entirely sure was a significant enough improvement over ‘sweetcheeks’. But as always, at least one question felt more pertinent than all the others.

“Let me guess. Now that I’ve sprung you out of your bird cage, you also want me to go and fetch your Instrument?”

At this, Zacarias made a face like he was genuinely offended. “What do you take me for? I’m perfectly capable of finishing my own fetch quests, thanks very much. No, no, I just wanted to return the favor, you see. I’ll keep you company for the rest of your climb out of here, help fight off more meanies that’ll try to stop you. But… you know, if we maybe happen across the jackass that stole my VISAGE, I wouldn’t say no to a second round of quid pro quo.”

Zacarias smiled and winked again. By now, he’d regained enough autonomy over his eyelids to have performed a proper wink, but the effect was no less grating on the intended target. Fighting down another urge to sock the outrealmer in the jaw, Serac nevertheless spoke through gritted teeth.

“What makes you think I need your help? You still haven’t told me just how you plan on contributing without a weapon. And just who is this jackass you keep—”

Bang!

The familiar report of a Jailer’s six-shooter. At nearly the same instant, the ground at Serac’s feet erupted with smoke and shredded bits of flesh, forcing her to jump out of harm’s way.

She spun toward the interruption, simultaneously readying REVOLVER with a practiced movement. But then she froze when she saw just what she was up against.

Two Jailers bounded down the stairs and toward the pair of Wayfarers, one of them tethered to a six-shooter and the other to a poker. Melee plus ranged wombo-combo.

And even before she could respond, Serac sensed that she was doomed. You seem to know your way around a fight, sweetcheeks, but you also have glaring weaknesses that’ll get you in trouble sooner rather than later. Well, ‘trouble’ had come sooner than she might’ve hoped, announcing itself in simple yet spectacular fashion. Two burly opponents coming for her at the same time, each fearsome enough on their own but together downright unplayable.

Welp, there’s nothing for it. Serac quelled her initial panic, determined to go down swinging. She trained REVOLVER on her gunslinging counterpart, acting mostly on instinct and partially on a dormant memory that told her: focus down the ranged threat first.

Aim, lock, fire. She managed to get her first shot off before the Jailer could ready his second. [111!]. It was a clean hit, the perfect start to a fight. But Serac processed this bit of success with a sinking feeling, knowing—or rather, seeing out of the corner of her eye—what was about to come.

The rusted yet plenty pointy end of a poker. Rushing toward her exposed right side at speed.

It was too late. She couldn’t move fast enough to block the attack with PULVERIZER, and even if she could, it was only a matter of time before this ‘fight’ devolved into a one-sided—

Ping!

Serac froze again, this time in utter astonishment. She herself remained unharmed as the second Jailer’s poker bounced away from her, parried as it’d been by the bare feet of the man standing next to her.

The outrealmer, for his part, had one leg raised in an impressively straight split, stretching his Penitent’s rags for all they were worth. Then he flashed Serac a smile that was perhaps half as winning as he’d intended it to be, before he turned his attention back onto the Jailers, lowering himself into an apparent stance as he did.

And now, Serac couldn’t help but see her Manusya companion—this puke-covered empty-handed self-proclaimed alcoholic womanizer—in a new light. For that was also when Pathsight’s description of him updated itself with an additional line:

[Designation: ZACARIAS BORGES-JUVENTUS]

[Erudite Instrument: VISAGE]

[Auxiliary: THE NINEFOLD DAO]