Rando Combatant hugs the titan's leg like a tree trunk, digging in with both hands and feet. As my Fortress spell dissipates letting me move freely again, I note with some disbelief that the Primal Ape has actually been foiled by body to body hugging, out of all things. Makes the contributions of both the Warrior Captain and myself to the fight seem a little pointless, to be honest.

As the Primal Ape staggers about howling in pain, the smell of cooking meat becomes overwhelming. Almost savory in fact. I can even hear the indistinct sounds of sizzling somewhere in the distance. Rando Combatant's mouth yawns open, letting loose a cloudy puff of smoke followed by a trickle of bubbling blood. Like fissures on the surface of a volcano, the shallow wounds marring the Primal Ape's carapace also begin to emit steam, the bioform's blood evaporating before it even reaches the surface. Rando Combatant's face flushes an angry red and a ferocious nosebleed erupts, covering his face entirely crimson. As if Rando Combatant had been stricken with an exaggerated high fever.

"Is he superheating the Primal Ape?" I mutter to myself staring spellbound at the sight. Its the best explanation I can work out from what's going on. By now, odd sparks spurt out from the bioform's wounds, like embers of a grill. Even the Primal Ape's carapace can't withstand the heat as it begins to char and eventually crack.

Rando Combatant grits his teeth through it all, his lips shriveling up like raisins. What kind of fucked up ultimate is this anyway? Sure its powerful, but you're going to be cooking your own organs whenever you decide to use it. Rando Combatant can easily defeat the Primal Ape now that he's played this trump card. Whether or not he survives, well, that's another matter entirely. Being cooked alive. It must be agony beyond belief. But Rando Combatant has the willpower to fight past the pain.

And apparently, so does the Primal Ape.

The bioform tenses, its eyes regaining their focus briefly. And with a single vicious stroke, the Primal Ape sends a hand flying right at Rando Combatant in an open handed slap. There's a meaty smack as Rando Combatant takes it like an oversized mosquito, causing me to wince in sympathy. As my tenacious ad hoc partner falls from the leg of the Primal Ape, the superheating effect immediately ceases, causing the beast the roar in a mixture of relief and fury. Flexing those mighty guns, the Primal Ape pounds its chest in triumph, causing chunks of damaged carapace to flake away.

I take a quick glance about. There's nothing but corpses and heavily wounded around me. Everyone else still combat capable has either been incinerated in the explosion or too busy trying to not die from burn trauma and maybe smoke inhalation. The Support Department stands on the opposite side of the fire, watching the death duel against Primal Ape with bated breath. There'll be no help coming from them.

I have my knife. Useless. Soul Fire. Not powerful enough. Fortress. Mind's still too tired from the first casting. Need at least a minute more before I can focus again. The Primal Ape draws itself to its full height, leering obscenely at me. I've got nothing that help me survive. Never mind win this fight.

Never have I felt the need to piss so bad.

That glint in the corner of my eye nags at me again and this time I don't resist the urge to turn my head. I don't want my last memory to be the Primal Ape's fist turning me into a pancake anyway.

And what greets my sight is an automatic pistol lying discarded on the ground. And its absolutely magnificent. Mounted into the gun's grip is an eye catching ruby that proudly sparkles. I'm not an expert in gems, but a cursory glance tells me that the ruby is ensorcelled. Very powerfully ensorcelled. A weapon like this could only be owned by the Gunslinger Captain, no one else would be able to afford something so expensive.

"Fuck it." I mutter grabbing the pistol. If I'm going to get squashed, might as well get squashed fighting, right?

My hand closes around the pistol and I can feel a crest embossed on the opposite side of the grip. Family or school crest? Whatever it the crest signifies, it proves this gun is a custom job built for the Gunslinger Captain. Hopefully he doesn't mind me borrowing his hardware for a bit.

I raise the gun and realize that my eyes are acting up again. The weapon is losing definition, becoming incredibly fuzzy. The Primal Ape breaks into a loping gait, rapidly eating up the distance between us. Drawing a breath, I do my best to level the gun at my target. Finger on the trigger.

And -

And -

And-

There's no sense of resistance against my finger, no report of the gun firing. The trigger just oozes into my finger. Like treacle. Or spilled ink. The gun seems to collapse like jelly, staining my entire hand. Time slows to a crawl, the Primal Ape becoming a still life portrait. But the treacle keeps oozing, oozing up my arm. My mind screams in alarm as an alien force pierces inside me, violating, tearing, destroying. But there's a sense satisfaction behind it all, an animal instinct urging me to accept whatever is happening. My heart opens up against my will, welcoming the alien invader. And the treacle gladly complies, rushing toward my chest.

A stabbing sensation, then -

...........

Love is yours, yet it is not. How do you reconcile this?

I can hear nothing in the darkness. Yet I can hear the question being asked. Because it is the voice of my heart. I feel invisible tremors all around me, threatening to tear this void apart.

"What is Love?" I ask, sweating bullets. This out of body experience is getting out of control.

Reconcile this. My heart wordlessly demands.

I double over in pain as a light tears its way out of my chest. With horror, I realize that my body is fading. Being eaten away by the light.

Reconcile this.

"It was always mine!" I shout desperately, not really answering the question, "My parents love me, that should count. Right?"

Love was always yours. My heart muses. The tremors stop and the light in my chest dims. Small tendrils of darkness spawn from the surroundings and swarm the light, steadily leeching it away.

That answer is acceptable.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Reconciling.

.......

"Draw! Aim! Fire!" the old man behind us yells. At his command, we initiates perform the firing drill, perforating the targets set up at the end of the range.

"Reload!" my uncle yells again and muscle memory takes over. My hands move on their own accord, discharging the training pistol's cartridge and loading a fresh one in.

"Well done! Gather around initiates." my Uncle claps his hands and we set down the training pistols and head to where he is standing.

Today's an important day. Its also the reason why I came to the Excelsior Gunslinger school in the first place. I stand ramrod straight, my nerves tingling with excitement.

"Everyone, I'm sure you all know what these are." Uncle draws a pair of pistols from the holsters at his waist. The gems mounted on their grips wink at us shyly under the evening sky. A ruby and a sapphire.

"Love and Duty." we initiates respond as one. These weapons were part of our school's founding lore, so we all naturally knew the answer.

"Yes. Duty, wielded by the original patriarch of our school. Master Excelsior." Uncle nods, "And Love, wielded by the matriarch. His wife. Together they founded this school. And their love was so deep that they resolved to be together for eternity."

Uncle sighs and looks sadly at the pair of guns. I bite my lip in suppressed excitement. Its coming. Its coming!

"When both of them died," Uncle picks up the story again, "They had part of their souls encased in these gems, and the guns were passed down the family. From that day onward, every master of the Excelsior school needed the approval of the founders to take up office."

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And that's why I'm here. To take up that office. I clench my fist in anticipation.

"As you all know, I don't have children." Uncle regains his composure, "So the title of master will have to be granted to whomever can meet the approval of the founders."

There's a hub dub of excitement among the initiates at this rare opportunity. The leadership of the school has always been held by the Excelsior family. But what they don't know is that the competition is rigged. Uncle might not have an heir, but the Mann family are a cadet branch of the Excelsiors. Both sides may have grown apart over the years, but the tie of blood still exists.

Making me the only available successor of the founders.

"Next!" Uncle says as an initiate holds up both guns, the gems blazing disapprovingly. As the initiate disappointedly hands the guns back, the gems return to their inert state.

The line shuffles forward and to my surprise, I recognize the guy standing in front of Uncle. The vision might have de-aged both of us, but his lean facial features remain the same. Its the Gunslinger Captain.

"Just do your best Robert." Uncle says encouragingly, holding out the guns. Robert nods and takes the weapons in his hands.

And nothing happens. The gems wink again, this time playfully.

A hush falls over the crowd.

"Uh, very good." Uncle stutters for a bit, taken by surprise, "But we should give everyone a chance."

Robert goes to stand behind Uncle as the line moves forward again, everyone failing in turn. Finally its my turn. Uncle offers me the weapons and I seize them without hesitation.

The gems burn angrily at my merest touch.

"That can't -" I start to protest but Uncle quickly takes the guns back and shoos me away with a look.

"The founders have spoken." Uncle says solemnly, "Robert come here."

That brat, no thief walks over to Uncle, salivating at the fortune about to fall into his lap.

"Robert," Uncle holsters both guns and clasps his hands, "Do you agree to take on the name of Excelsior from this day forward?"

"I do." that little thief smirks as he kneels before Uncle.

"No, he cheated." I mutter under my breath, "Can't anyone see that bastard cheated?"

"Kneel." Uncle says implacably and Robert takes a knee with Uncle's hand on his head.

"I, Hamzah Excelsior, recognize you as Robert Excelsior, my son and heir, today and forevermore." Uncle pronounces with finality, "So rise, and take your place."

........

The darkness swallows me again. And my heart speaks.

Love is yours, yet it is still not. How do you reconcile this?

I look down at my chest and realize that the tendrils of darkness have fallen away. The light is starting to grow in strength again. If I don't do anything soon, no prizes for guessing what's going to happen next.

I have no idea what's happening, but I clearly made progress just now. If my guess is correct the gun, Love, has somehow become "mine" when I absorbed it. I was never part of the Excelsior school, my parents sent me to the Academy at Crossroad City when I was old enough. But instinctively I know what the vision showed me is true. Those events did happen.

Did the past change?

And if it did, does that mean I have to blend my actual past together with this new one? Is that what reconciliation is?

Love is mine, but it isn't because of Robert. The Gunslinger Captain owns both guns in the present. So I need to explain how I am the proper owner of Love.

"I took Love before it was given away." I answer my heart, crossing my fingers.

You took Love before it was given away. My heart repeats ponderously, like gears of a machine slowly turning.

There's a pregnant silence.

The tendrils shoot out again, piercing the light and suppressing it.

That answer is acceptable. Reconciling.

........

In the darkness of night, two figures square off at the School's deserted courtyard.

"It was fraud. A cheat." I insist, staring daggers at Uncle, "Are you really going along with this?"

"I've made my decision Alex." he finally says, folding his arms defensively, "Or rather, the founders have made their decision."

"No one outside the Excelsior family has been chosen. Ever." I snort, "And you see absolutely no problem with what happened just now?"

"The thing is, Alex," Uncle uncomfortably replies, "I was actually half expecting something like this to happen."

"What?" I demand, outraged.

"You're not a very good gunslinger Alex." Uncle says before raising a hand to stop my interruption, "Don't get mad. I'm not trying to insult you. We may share blood, but the Manns have gone their own way for too long. Whatever talent for gunslinging your side of the family had is long gone."

"So what, you're adopting that Robert guy?" I close my eyes in frustration.

"He's the best gunslinger I've seen in a long time." Uncle reluctantly admits, "Robert would make a fine master. And, well, I'm just not comfortable leaving the school to you."

"Because I'm not a very good gunslinger." I deadpan.

"You aren't up to being master of this school." Uncle shakes his head, "I wish it was different, but we have to deal with facts here."

"So what about the promises you made to me and my parents?" I demand, "You forget about all that?"

"No. But I cannot meet those promises Alex." Uncle purses his lips, "I intend to do right by you though. You'll complete your training here. Based on your talent, with some hard work we can make you into a Gunslinger Third Class -"

"Third Class." I hiss furiously, "I came all the way here to be a THIRD CLASS GUNSLINGER?"

"- and I'll secure a good position for you in one of the Guilds." Uncle managed to conclude, "You might not be Master, but you'll never starve."

"What good position?" I snap, "Don't think I'm stupid. Third Class graduates only get to become General Staff in the big Guilds. Or maybe you're thinking of sending me to a small two bit operation and wash your hands?"

"Look past your pride, Alex." Uncle's brow bunches together, "At least for your own sake. I can get you honest and safe work. With your level of talent, that's the best anyone can do."

"No. This is bullshit." I curse, "Promises were made!"

"Alex, that's enough." Uncle scowls.

"Fuck you and your -" I throw my index finger accusingly at him.

"That's enough!" Uncle shouts, his voice drifting off into the night. Stunned by his anger, I quickly clam up.

"Take a walk. Cool down." Uncle finally manages to say, "We'll talk more tomorrow."

And then he walks off to his private chambers.

But Uncle is wrong. Its not enough. I paid his private chambers a visit while everyone was celebrating that fraud's selection. Uncle's not stupid, he had his chambers locked and trapped. But I'm an Excelsior, no matter how distant the tie is. The Mann family uses the exact same traps and wards, meaning overcoming them is child's play for me.

I knew from the start Uncle would not back down. Why else would he celebrate Robert "Excelsior's" ascension so publicly? So I made preparations of my own. I storm back to my room and pick up my already packed luggage and wallet. Enough cash to buy a ticket out of this dump and to Crossroad City. A place where I can lie low for a bit and seek my own fortune. I can't return home for awhile, not after the stunt I just pulled.

Checking my luggage one last time, I pull out the gun case I managed to purloin out of Uncle's room. I would rather have taken both cases, but there was a watchman patrolling about. Discretion was the better part of valor after all. I carefully open the case and lift the weapon within with both hands.

"Love." I smirk, as the ruby on the grip burns impotently in fury.

If Uncle can't fulfill his promise to me, he won't be fulfilling his promises to anyone.

......

"And so I fled, heading to Crossroad City." I conclude, speaking to the inky darkness. The final bits of the story slot into place and I feel something shifting deep within me. New memories, new experiences. Two histories merging together.

Where you entered the Academy to train as a sorcerer. My heart fills in the blanks. Helpful of it.

"I couldn't work as a Gunslinger." I agree, "Not after what happened back at the Excelsior school."

The darkness churns like the deep sea, my heart weighing the merit of the tale.

There is a fatal inconsistency. It pronounces and my stomach drops.

"What do you mean - augh!" I shout as the light reignites, sending pain shooting up and down my entire body.

You did not have the money to attend the Academy, yet you did. Reconcile.

Oh shit.

I forgot that my parents paid my tuition at the Academy. My grades weren't good enough to get a scholarship. And in this new history, I never told my parents where I was going. And I didn't have much money on hand either.

Reconcile. My heart demands as the pain in my chest increases.

"Give me some time, damnit!" I protest.

Not possible. The latent potential you absorbed is almost depleted. You must reconcile before the world rejects your existence.

"Rejects my what?" I scream in horror. Cracks start appearing all over my body.

Reconcile. The only advise my heart can give me.

Reconcile. How to reconcile this? The light begins burning my core, with small fires spreading down the spiderweb of cracks running across my body.

Think. I must think. I know how to use a gun now. That means I should know how to maintain one?

Just one chance. I can't waste it.

.......

I'm seated on the floor of a rundown flat in Crossroad City. The neighborhood is vaguely recognizable. Shoreside. That's what its called. But all this is neither here nor there. I focus on the gun case in front of me.

Please let this work.

I pop open the gun case and remove the bag of tools inside. Then out comes Love, the ruby still objecting to my presence.

"Alright. Here goes." my chest clenches, and I know my time is running out. Taking out the needed tools, I begin disassembling the gun, focusing on removing the gun frame.

The operation goes smoothly. The knowledge from my new memories is sound. That's step one done. Now for the difficult part. Holding the grip firmly, I begin to pry out the ruby from its mount.

The ruby grows red hot, fighting back against my efforts. The cracks on my body deepen and I can feel them cut into my bones. But there are no mysteries involved with the ruby's mount, you just need enough strength and determination to do the job.

The ruby pops out, its light dying instantaneously.

.....

"So I sold the ruby." I breathe deeply with ragged breaths, "And used the money to fund my tuition. That good enough?"

Please let it be good enough. Please.

That answer is acceptable.

"Yes!" I cheer, the cracks on my body fading away already.

All reconciled. My heart intones.

The light in my chest has become much diminished now, drained from assembling that bogus history. What's left explodes outward, filling me with new strength, skills and knowledge. I'm now more that what I was.

But am I still even the same person?

You hunger. This abyss will never be satiated.

"What do you mean?" I ask my heart as the light begins to fill the pit I am in.

You need what has been denied to you.

"Power?" I hazard a guess as a wind begins to lift me up.

No.

The abyss shatters explosively, sending me hurtling into a blind emptiness. But my heart is not done talking yet.

You need life.