Despite how tired he was, Beck found it hard to fall asleep.

Mason's snoring didn't help, but it was very minor compared to the swirl of different thoughts and emotions in his head. The anticipation of the coming ceremony was certainly present, but one thing kept nagging at the back of his mind: the constructs they killed at the bottom of the ruin were classified as Devils. And from the words they had exchanged when their group was on the approach, they hadn't been beforehand.

The church made sure everyone knew the basic history of the continent: From the Giant's creation of most of the mortal races besides the elves, their war with the dragons that wiped out both races, to the Dark Ages and the Archangels' arrival. The Demons destroyed the sun, then the Devils appeared and began their experiments, from which came goblins, ogres, and the deviltouched. Then the Archangels came, and waged a war of their own.

They could never kill the Demons, though. They would just reform the next day, while their own angels fell one by one. They would have lost to attrition if not for one of the deviltouched, Ankla Va'kin, who helped them to build a prison, a siphon that would pull their essence from the world. And so the war was won, and the fiends were ousted from the world. All that was left was their creations, numerous and insidious, in the Ruins of the Rusts.

If they could make more Demons, everything was at risk. A second Dark Age, or at the very least another massive war. Add in the Grim Riders, who no doubt would take advantage of the power Demons could offer, and this lonely peninsula would become a powder keg. He would lose everything again. Everyone would lose everything.

He couldn't let that happen. He climbed out of his bed, grabbed the whip he had been given, and arrived once more at the lakeshore. Using trash as targets, he practiced with the weapon until the sun rose. Slowly, he learned how to fluidly shift its mass, how to transfer rotation into a strike, and how much it hurt when you messed up. So it was that when dawn broke, he laid on the surface of the lake, covered in bruises, staring at the sky and the almost-matching box that only he could see.

You have learned the Skill [Whipsmanship]! +1 to Dexterity! A versatile weapon for a versatile wielder. Whether you're tying up an opponent, swinging from outcroppings, or simply doing damage, this weapon delivers. Increased control over whips.

The description for the increased ability was much more vague than he was used to for these things, but he didn't really care all that much about the text; the important thing was that he had the Skill. Now, as the warm solar rays touched his face and the cool water enveloped his body, he found himself drifting off. His meager attempt to stay awake was stymied by his own aching muscles.

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Beau was having a great nap. He had to swear in a deputy today, but the boy hadn't come to his office yet, nor had anyone started yelling or screaming about any kind of trouble. The rare peaceful day in Oasis.

It was noon when he finally opened his eyes. Technically, he didn't need to sleep more than an hour a day, but it was still good for his memory if he got in a good few hours. The only thing wrong was that the kid still hadn't shown up. That was when the giant tribal burst through his door. "Where is he?"

The Sheriff opened his eyes and tilted his hat back in response. "Where is who?'

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because the massive woman reached over his desk and grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt, then hauled him up to her face. "My-," she paused, and a growl of frustration rose from her throat, "Beck. Green hair, blue eyes, comes up to my chest. He's gone."

That got his attention. "How long?"

Her grip loosened, and he dropped back into his chair as she straightened. "I don't know. The three of us ate dinner together last night, but when I woke up, he wasn't there. His friend said that he wasn't in his bed when he woke up, and I've been looking for him all morning. He didn't even take his Spellgun. We already checked with the gnomes, and you're the only other person I know he's met since we've been here. So you're going to help me find him."

Beau took a deep breath and stood. "Yes, ma'am, I am." His spurs clanked as he walked to the coat rack that held his gun belt. "Now, let's go take a look."

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When he woke, Beck had sunk a good half mile beneath the surface. He began to panic, thinking he had lost the whip, but he quickly realized that it was still wrapped around his waist. He sighed in relief, then began to swim upwards.

A large number of shadows sat, floating on the surface, and as he neared, he realized that they were rowboats. He had passed plenty of fish on his way up, so it did make sense that the locals would take advantage of such a readily available food source. Except there were no lines or nets in the water. As he surfaced, he was greeted by shouting. "I found him! He's over here!"

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The boat quickly converged, and one man offered to help him into his boat. Two men took up the other side, so the boat rocked minimally as he climbed aboard. Now that he had a better vantage point, he could see Kenna rowing one of the boats further out. Every heave of the oars sent the vessel rocketing forward, leaving foot-high waves in its wake.

It didn't take long for her to get there. When she arrived, Beck simply hopped onto the deck and before he knew it, the giant woman had engulfed him in a crushing embrace. "Never do that again. I was so worried about you."

She was still capable of an incredible amount of sheer force. His squeaked reply was accompanied by a weak pat on the back. "You got it."

She eventually released him, at which point he was informed that he had been missing almost the entire day. That was the point that he realized that it was not still early morning, but late evening. In the fog of sleep, he had mistaken the setting sun for the sunrise.

With everything cleared up, they made for the shore, where they found both the Sheriff and Mason waiting for them. The human approached and clapped him on the shoulder. "You good, kid? Had your friends real concerned."

He just nodded. "Just couldn't sleep. Passed out while I was takin' a break. Got the whip Skill, though."

The Sheriff opened his mouth, but he didn't get to say anything before Mason had wrapped an arm around his neck and drove a knuckle into his scalp. "Leave a note or somethin' next time, man. I thought you were dead."

The two of them wrestled for a moment before the bigger man disengaged. Beck massaged his scalp as he spoke, "Yeah, well, next time, assume I'm still kickin'. What woulda killed me here, anyway?"

Mason just shrugged. Beck shook his head before returning his attention to the Sheriff, who had walked off a short ways and seemed to be staring at a rock in his hand. Beck started to make his way over, followed closely by his two friends.

The human looked up at them as they approached, but said nothing until they were within polite speaking distance, at which point he tossed the rock up and caught it before pocketing it. "Alright, kid. It's a lil' later than I was expectin', but we can still get it done today. C'mon."

The four of them returned to the Sheriff's office to find a small crowd had gathered out front. The human didn't pay them any mind and ducked inside, while Beck and the others stayed behind to observe the murmuring press of bodies. It didn't take long for him to recognize the main thing tying the group together: every single one of them had a bronze star pinned to their chest.

Everyone here was a deputy. He had made twenty something deputies wait all day just for his induction into their ranks. He felt his cheeks heat up at the realization just as the Sheriff emerged from the open doorway, a bronze badge held in one hand and a book in the other. "Hold out yer hand, son."

Beck did as he was instructed. In response, the human opened the book he held, revealing hundreds of black fingerprints placed in neat lines, and used the pin of the badge to prick the young man's finger. The badge disappeared into the Sheriff's sleeve as soon as it broke skin, and he swiftly took hold of Beck's hand, pressing it into the book to make a bloody fingerprint.

Beck withdrew his hand at the same time the man released it. He produced the badge once more, and set it directly atop the bloody finger print. His tone was distinctly measured, taking on an odd formality he hadn't heard from him yet. "Beck Breen. Are you ready to take your oath?"

The badge took on a dull glow as he spoke, "Yes, sir."

"Do you swear to uphold the Sovereignty of the Individual, to Eschew Complacency, to Guard the Innocent, and to Maintain the Mystery? When the Law fails, the Common Man must be the enactor of Justice. Good must never leave its vigil, for Evil Never Sleeps. The Guiltless must be never be allowed to come to harm. Even if manipulation and deceit must be employed, we must always stay one step ahead of our foes."

"I swear to uphold the Sovereignty of the Individual," as he spoke, he felt something wrap around his core, but he continued without missing a beat, " to Eschew Complacency, to Guard the Innocent, and to Maintain the Mystery." Every section he completed, he felt whatever it was spread and tighten, until he finished, at which point it released its hold on him completely.

Or so he thought. The Badge on the book glowed a bright red as he finished the oath, then quickly dulled back to bronze. At the same time, the constricting force returned, this time forcing itself into his core. He could feel it weaving itself into his very being, though a surface level inspection showed nothing. The only outward sign he had shown was a quick intake of breath, as the intrusion itself didn't cause any pain or give any kind of unnatural feeling. It was simply energy, though its ability to fuse with him was both fascinating and frightening.

His questions were quickly answered when the system gave him another new message:

You have taken the Oath of the Vigilante! This Oath binds a new paladin to the service of the people, to serve as a protector and arbiter of the Law. The Sworn is granted abilities shaped over centuries by those who have gone before.

No other messages showed up, so he had to assume that this was only here to keep him from panicking about the process.

The Sheriff handed him the badge, revealing that the fingerprint he had left was now seared into the page, just as all the others had been. He took it gingerly and examined it. The words "Trainee Deputy" were emblazoned across the top and bottom, in between which was a pictograph of a river flowing through the desert, surrounded by cacti.

He fixed it to his shirt, and the Sheriff nodded. "Welcome to the club, son. Lookin' forward to seein' how you grow."

The crowd clapped politely, then disseminated back to the town. He turned to do the same, but the human's hand stopped him. "Make sure you actually get a good night's sleep this time, kid. I'll show ya how to fill a Spell Cartridge in the mornin'."

He nodded, and their group headed back to the Casino.