"70…71…72…"

Hope blinked the blurriness away from his vision.

His hands and calves started to buzz from numbness. The itch from the [Pearls of the Moon]'s healing mixed uncomfortably.

As Hope counted the seconds, he calmly bore through the twisting pain from his wounds. It felt like his flesh had wrenched, melted, and disintegrated into a stinking, bloody swill.

"Sigh…"

After a long pause, Hope's sigh floated emptily into the thick air. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists as his body remained in the tangled web of vines.

The memory of his home still tried to bleed into his mind.

The charred frames. The crumbled stone. The pinned limbs. The crawling bodies. Wailing. Screaming. Shouting.

His brother's face black with soot as they stood next to the ruins.

Huh. How did the fire start?

Why did it even start?

'Mm. Must've knocked out from all that smoke.'

The majority of that memory was black before he was able to escape.

If he remembered correctly, which he did, Hope at some point stood in front of a hospital window. The glass served as a mirror as he observed his lanky structure stained with ash and red scrapes. At that time, he wondered…

'We survived…that's all that matters.' Hope nonchalantly echoed in thought.

"120…121…122…"

Hope's counting grounded him back in the present before the memory took over his mind.

He opened his eyes and began to curl forward, reaching to untangle the vines from his legs. The fleshy wounds peeked through his clothes as he did so.

No he wasn't as bad as those burnt victims were.

A glimpse earlier, his skin was black and leathery in which now healed considerably. Although still marred around the edges. But what was taking more of its time were the claw marks and lashes across his body. Hope wasn't surprised. An Awakened's healing Memory wasn't much against a Fallen's power.

"Dammit."

Hope clicked his tongue in annoyance as the vines remained knotted, leaning again back into his hang.

Hope reached back and rummaged through his backpack before pulling out a pair of garden shears.

No more spine sword anymore. Forged from the bones of a Nightmare Creature.

How unfortunate.

Snap—

The blades began gnawing at the vines one by one.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

But after he gets down from here…where would he go?

It was now confirmed that Hope was near the damn paranoid Awakened's dwelling after all that chaos on the fallen building. That would mean more traps ahead.

And likely more planted bombs.

Snap. Snap.

Hope's neck tightened.

He continued to cut the vines, his legs beginning to wiggle free.

Snap. Snap—

Before Hope cut the last tangled vine, he stopped.

He paused. His eyes trailed the vine that snaked its way around his neck.

For a moment there was a strange fleeting thought. But he dismissed it. He carefully cut another vine and found himself now gripping tightly to prevent another plummet.

"…!"

His muscles spasmed from the action.

With the numerous wounds on himself, the healing's efficacy had slowed to a crawl as it spread throughout his body, dividing itself as it tended to each one. But if he could spare any of its power, he should. He wasn't near death's door anymore as one would say.

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Hope dismissed the [Pearls of the Moon] and the wrapped earring disappeared, leaving him able to feel his blood and flesh muttering curses like a poison on himself.

He would just have to deal with it.

Hope took in a deep breath and started scaling down the vine.

The misty world below swallowed him with each descent.

The whistling wind riding above grew distant.

Shadows moaned as the blackness of the floor grew closer to his feet.

Hope's boots finally found ground again. He stumbled slightly, annoyed at his leg carrying a limp, and glanced around for any signs of danger.

But the wind here was nearly calm.

He stood next to the colossal fallen tower to his left stretching back and beyond like an impregnable wall—the weight resting on monuments of desolation and decay. Just how far did that Fallen push him back?

Hope summoned his runes again.

"Ashen Shield is still here…" He muttered.

But where the hell was it? Did distance really play a role in this? If so…

Hope paused.

He raised out his hand and tried summoning his Memory again.

'Come on come on…'

"..."

But nothing happened.

Hope took a pained step forward. Three steps. Four steps. He began walking around as if he were a blind man. It was bad enough that he didn't have a proficient sword anymore to swing around. But to lose a Memory would be pathetic.

Hope's eyebrow twitched.

This was getting ridiculous…

But right on the fourteenth step—

Bzzzcch!

"...!" Hope blinked as swirls of light danced over his left hand—the familiar sight of luminence to metal finally settled.

And it was…

"Not…entirely useless." Hope nonchalantly said, bringing the shield up close. Or what was left of it.

One thing for certain was that the Ashen Shield had done its best to absorb the explosive impact. But the once shining surface of the shield was now marred by deep gouges and cracks, and several of the intricate designs had been completely obliterated. If anything, the Memory still held its shape, though its ability to protect had been…

…compromised.

….hkieeeeek…

Hope glanced above. The cry of the damn Fallen shrilled again. Far as it was, it would be one hell of a Nightmare Creature if it remembered and chased after him.

"Right." Hope gazed on forward. "Near the leaned towers…" Whatever that honestly meant for the Awakened's dwelling.

But it had to be worth the trouble to get this far.

Up ahead the mist rested thickly on the streets that stretched out into vanishing flatness. The air was still gray, and the drizzling of rain's mildew teased his nose as well as the smoke from the explosives.

Huh. Should that cause an alarm?

It didn't seem likely that any human would be lured over here by the sight or sound of it. If anything, they would hide.

Nightmare Creatures?

'If they dare in this territory.'

Hope thought as he glanced at a few blackened spots dotted on the pavement and walls.

'Or if they even learned their lessons.'

As long as it wasn't him, they could blow up for all he cared.

For now, his boots crunched on useless, rocky soil, broken by debris and nature. The heads of grass drooped from the beating rain. Hope's main thoughts were as bleak as his surroundings, carrying away his lingering memory of the ruined fire with every step.

He followed a trickling stream running through the street. The water was gritty and quaked from the drops.

But the cold seeped through the soles of his shoes and each breath breathed a small white cloud.

He strained his ears for any lurking monsters, but all was silent. Whether it was from the traps around or the faint presence of the Fallen Creature, it seemed too…still.

'A weapon would be sufficient. Again…' Hope thought as he looked around the wreckage.

He then paused at a thought. "Huh…Bombs…traps…" An inventive Awakened…

"..."

Hope shook his head.

He couldn't possibly threaten an Awakened to create a weapon for him.

If it was a normal person that was fine. But if he had to ask this particular person…

'How the hell would that go?'

Paranoid as that Awakened was said to be. It wasn't like Hope had a glib tongue either.

After passing a couple of streets, up in a haunted building made of reinforced concrete, a silhouette peered behind a glass.

For a moment Hope almost acted out, and yet noticing how shriveled and hunched the figure was spoke otherwise.

A stray.

The woman started using her sleeve to wipe a small spot on the misty glass and looked down at the street. One simple eye contact and she hid again. Hope had to admit it felt even odd for him to cross anyone else living in this forsaken city. He had always slipped in and out by vehicle after all. But organized or scattered as these people were. Careful or stupid.

'As long as they don't pose a threat.' Hope thought as he continued further.

Passing the wavering piles of crumbling walls and fallen blocks, a faint gleam caught his eye. Hope achingly walked over, pushing aside the wreckage that barred his path.

And there, concealed beneath a pile of debris was a rusted pipe, its length pitted and corroded. Not an ideal item compared to a crowbar, but something nonetheless.

Just as Hope pulled out the pipe–

Krkrkrkr–!

Hope lurched back as the stone collapsed.

He forcefully restrained a sigh, but at the same time, there in the corner of his eye, shadows shifted in a gap between two buildings.

"...gasp..!" A voice gasped.

Hope froze.

Any thought of pain was nonexistent now as he focused on the subtle movement in the darkness. His hands readied to brace for danger.

The gap was wide enough for a grown man to walk through, yet it was short enough to see its dead-end.

"Shhh!" Another voice hushed.

Hope tilted his head at the young voice.

'2…no 3.' Hope counted.

Three small figures huddled in the tight space. They stopped moving, probably because Hope was looking in their direction.

"..."

He couldn't imagine exactly what he looked like but…He supposed he should try and ask again if he was heading in the right direction.

"Hey–" Hope began to say.

But alarmed as they were, the three small figures bolted out. They ran down the building and cut its corner into an alley.

Hope followed a few steps after and caught the last sight of them running barefoot.

What did he expect?

Nothing much really.

But before they disappeared, they leapt a couple of times as if they were on hot rocks.

'What the–' Hope thought.

Did he…have to jump too…?

He'd rather not. Not in this condition.

Hope slowly walked forward, retracing their steps which were simple strides for himself. But after several paces, Hope stopped short as a faint silver line gleamed between the grass.

'Huh.' Hope crouched down and tilted his head at its crafted appearance.

He hadn't seen this in a while.

But a wire was pulled taut.