Velrick wasn’t the type of man to waste his efforts. For that matter, he wasn’t the type to spend much effort at all, and would rather spend his limited time in this mortal body sleeping rather than in service to his duties. Oathbound or not, his duties as a guide were impersonal for him. Just tasks to be done and done with—and without lingering, lest the boredom of it all went on to affect his dreams. He was a man beholden to his oath, nothing less and nothing more.
But there was no oath holding him to that smithy. There was no sacred compulsion that urged him to lurk invisible long after his charge thought him gone. There was no reasoning behind his actions except for the age-old reason anyone does anything unnecessary.
It had bothered him to have his nap interrupted, but Velrick had only one complaint now, and it was that he had none of this infamous ‘popcorn’ on hand.
Profile request by Xii-Velrick has been approved.
Alex Smith: F Rank, Lvl 18.
Race: Human
Class: [Stone Dancer]
Bloodline: [Forged in Fire]
Affinity: Fire
Trait: [???]
Titles: [The First Spark], [Forgefather]
Attributes: [Half-dead Persistence]
Consumable Essence Balance: 13,751
Skills:
[Stealth] Lvl 21: (Apprentice)
[Meld] Lvl 13: (Novice)
[Metalwork] Lvl 9: (Novice)
[Examine] Lvl 6: (Novice)
[Pierce] Lvl 6: (Novice)
[Feather Foot] Lvl 4: (Novice)
[Enchant] Lvl 3: (Novice)
[Appraise] Lvl 2: (Novice)
Weapon Mastery:
[Nythca]: Apprentice (20% to Adept)
Weapon Arts:
N/A
Free Skill-slots: 0
Stats:
Vitality - 6
Strength - 15
Dexterity - 12
Fortitude - 9
Perception - 9
Arcane - 9
Velrick processed the information in a matter of seconds then waved the display away. There was nothing special about any of it apart from what he'd already noted. An antique blacksmithing bloodline, an antique blacksmithing class, a trait that hadn’t yet been classified, etc. All were special enough in their own way, but he’d seen special before. If being special was all it took to interest him then he wouldn’t have come to loathe his responsibilities forever ago. Special wasn’t interesting at all. Reduced by eons' of experience and simple arithmetic, “special” was just another word for predictable, and his only interest in someone like that was in learning whose hand it was that moved them.
Velrick motioned to cup his yawn and it was then that he heard the guttural, almost deep sing-song hiss of a voice. “Then whose hand moves him?” It asked.
He didn’t turn to acknowledge the presence at his back. An addendum to that; there was no presence there at all, it was just a vestige of last night’s dream. To perceive a thing is to make it real after all and he had no reason to do that here. He stretched and a smile, the barest he could spare for the waking world, crept onto his face.
“Or is there even a hand at all?” He mused.
Velrick was no voyeur but he derived some ironic pleasure from watching in that moment. He eyed Alex like one might a defective race horse as the man hummed peacefully, grinding metal away at the wheel while an ocean of his own blood stained the ground beside him. He must’ve been satisfied with his newly fashioned hilt, because his humming stopped and within a few minutes he was already preparing to leave.
The vestige whispered in his ear, “If he’s unclaimed, then might we…?”
No, that’s not in the cards.
Velrick was no Constellation, and that was by far the most boring way to go about this anyhow. It might be that Alex died the next day, and then Velrick might find himself stuck for millennia again before he found another interest, but he would not spoil himself. A mystery was only captivating up until it was solved, and whether he was unclaimed or not it was far too early to tell. Some hands were invisible even to him.
His mind wandered as he watched Alex gather his drying clay back into his inventory and fade from sight down the road.
System, he decided, Grant this town’s attendant additional privileges.
Request has been Denied. Guides do not have access to–
Denial Overridden.
Without batting an eye, Velrick sent out additional instructions. That done, he initiated the process for his consciousness to transfer back to bed.
[Dear Ms. Guild Attendant, Awakened ‘Alex Smith’ will be arriving shortly. You will answer these following questions with truth if he asks them….]
He yawned. Maybe he’d start waking up earlier tomorrow.
***
Alex’s walk back to the Guild Hall was a quiet and undisturbed thing. He heard the sounds of a skirmish southward from his route, Jun and his survivors presumably, but in the town’s center district there were no longer any signs of the undead. Seeing the state it was in, that was little wonder.
He pushed open the front doors of the Guild Hall.
“Hello,” A cheery voice called to him, “And welcome to Starter Town’s Adventurer’s Guild! My name is Illyana, how can I assist you?”
Alex didn’t respond right away. Last night, he had kicked these doors in with all his rage and they had held, but now, from just the slightest push, the door’s wood gave a sickly croak as it fell flat off its hinges. He stared down at his palm, peppered by stray burnt splinters from the contact. Ash and soot sprinkled from the burnt rafters above and as he stepped inside he heard a crash as the Guild’s sign board clattered to the ground behind him.
“Thank you for using our front entrance,” the attendant behind the desk said. “So few do anymore.” Her smile was bright, her irritation only betrayed by the twitch in her left eye.
The front entrance was in fact no longer the only, and the wall Alex had just broken the door from was one of few still standing. He easily could’ve sidestepped it a meter and entered through the rubble. But when there’s a door it's most polite to use it.
Alert: You have entered a safe zone. No monsters may harm you here.
Monument: Lionheart, Level 17 Scenario Boss.
Time Remaining: 1:13:53
A seventeen hour safe zone for a level seventeen boss. It was as good a reminder as any that, for however long this day had felt, only sixteen hours had passed since then. Alex noted one other occupant aside from him; a man who sat hunched, mumbling deliriously to himself under a fallen support beam. He scanned the man for any injuries. Finding none, he stepped past him.
Not entirely to his surprise, the freckled woman behind the information desk was the same attendant who had stood there yesterday, before the scenario had begun. A lone soul living amongst the undead. A trail of soot fell, blemishing her otherwise clean and polished desk and her eye twitched again as she wiped at it with her cloth, only smudging it.
Yesterday, Alex had led Lionheart to shatter this desk. But it had been restored and now its new polish put it at odds with the rest of the place, as if it were the true blemish. It alone, pristine, amongst entire blocks of shops, homes, and wagons burnt to cinders and ground. The attendant finally wiped free the soot’s stain only as another blemish fell beside it.
Resigned, she repeated her question. “How may I assist you?”
Alex rested his smith-grimed palms on the surface and leaned in. “I’d like to register as an Adventurer.”
“Of course! Please put your hand on this contraption! It will measure your magical output and tell you what your starting adventurer rank will be. Once you have registered, you will be able to accept quests from the guild!”
She slid the vaguely steampunk-esque contraption forwards and Alex touched the shimmering orb in its center, watching it glow. A part of him wanted to reject the idea of registering as he had yesterday, but that was ignorance. This world’s “guilds” and “adventurers” may just be meaningless and twisted amalgamations of the real things, but he needed to abide by some of Nightmare’s rules if he was going to break others.
Eventually, the orb stopped shimmering and Illyana—likely just a contractor rather than someone sworn to the System’s order—gave an audible gasp. An act, he was sure.
“Wow!” She exclaimed. “Impressive! You don’t see someone starting as a Blue-grade adventurer every day!”
The color coded grades, Alex knew, meant little to nothing.
“As a Blue adventurer you can accept quests at the Blue grade or lower, but luckily all the quests we have here are Green! The more quests you clear, the more points you’ll rack up towards your next ranking! Keep at it!”
She slapped the quest board behind her, which was also restored. She needn’t have bothered, Alex had already taken a look when he’d come in here earlier. There was only one quest that truly mattered, only one that would–
A frown crept onto his face when he looked up.
“There’s a quest missing,” he said. “I thought I saw it earlier. It said ‘Locate the Swamp of Death. What happened to it?”
“I’m sorry, someone came by and took that early this morning.”
“Who?”
The attendant bit her lip and for a second Alex thought he caught that look people had when engaging with their interface in her distant gaze.
“A… small girl,” she said, “Around up to your chest in height. I’m sorry, Adventurer, I’m not permitted to say more.
Does she mean Gloomy? She lived?
Alex’s frown deepened. The only thing differentiating the quest he’d wanted was that it had the highest danger marker, with three skulls rather than one or two. Otherwise, there’d been nothing clearly separating it as special from the others. And if it was Gloomy who had taken it… well, would someone so weak really go for the highest difficulty quest? She had survived the first scenario not by fighting but by sacrificing others, afterall.
But then, what if she hadn’t solved the first scenario’s riddled meaning at all? What if she had already known how to survive it? And maybe that wasn’t all she knew…
Absent-mindedly, Alex’s hand went to a patch of the gauze he’d been mysteriously gifted, but it wasn’t there. He’d healed his wounds completely when he’d acquired his class. He’d thought it strange that he’d been found so quickly, but what if it wasn’t him they’d been watching. What if one of the constellations had been feeding Gloomy information?
And by watching her, they’d found Alex.
Glowering, he asked one more question. “What Scenario three path did the quest she took follow?”
He hadn’t quite expected an answer to this, and for a second the attendant seemed like she would tell him to beat it, but then she bit her tongue.
“It was the Path of Bleeding Hearts,” she said at last.
“I see. Then I’ll take as many quests along that path as you have then.”
“I can only give three, Adventurer. Which would you–”
“It doesn’t matter which they are, thank you. And deliver this note to the man named Jun, please. Tell him it’s from Alex.”
“Of course, Adventurer.”
He handed over a folded piece of paper and the attendant tore three quests at random. They dispersed into a sea of pixels in his hold.
[Slay Three Ghouls]
Ghouls lurk the passages of the Misting Valleys. Slay three of them, and make the mountains once more safe for travelers.
Reward: 3,000 Essence
[Missing Caravan]
A Caravan has gone missing along the Path of Bleeding Hearts. Investigate what has happened to it and return your findings to the Adventurer’s guild.
Reward: 3,000 Essence
[Haunted Manor]
They say there is an abandoned Manor hidden within the mists and all who travel there never return. Validify the integrity of these rumors.
Reward: 3,000 Essence
Alex reviewed them shortly then dismissed them to the Quest tab in his interface. Nightmare always rewarded those who beat its scenarios greatly, and this was just one more way of doing that. If you failed to beat scenario two, the next adventurer’s guild came only once you completed the third scenario, or if you sought out one of their elusive outposts before then. But it was hard to feel enthusiastic about that at the moment.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Especially when he remembered the other thing the attendants say to you when you first visit. He resigned himself to listen through it all again as she opened her mouth.
“Thank you for joining our ranks! We’re glad to have you, Adventurer! The fight against Demon King Eldiwin and his Eight Undead Lords has reached its darkest hour, but with you by our side, we can surely–”
A raspy voice interrupted her speech.
“Alex…?”
They both turned their heads to take in the other person in that room, the one who had been muttering to himself only moments before. He was a middle-aged man, clean shaven but dirtied, and wore tattered jeans and a bloodied jacket beneath a wizard’s robe. His blond hair slung sweaty and sooty like a mop over his hung head, and he hugged himself as if expecting an attack despite this being a safe zone.
He was clearly one of the ones Jun had fought to save in the catacombs underground, but it was his eyes that told Alex most about the man. There was hopelessness in them, a cloud thicker than any fog.
“Yes?” Alex asked.
The man’s lip trembled as he spoke. “Jun said…th-that the one who killed the boss…it-it was…”
“Yes, that was me.”
Alex knew what his next words would be before he’d spoken them. The blood on his jacket crusted around a tear in its fabric by his flank and it wasn’t hard to imagine that a river of blood once must have sept from now-healed flesh. Jun must have given him a healing potion from the rewards, he was fighting in shape now, and yet he was still hiding away here.
Alex understood. His first scar had been from a glancing slash across his eye, and its greatest reminder hadn’t come from the daggered stare he gave in the mirror, but from the slightest scratch on his cornea that had never healed. That had never happened in this life, and he had killed the Mayor who had inflicted it, but a part of him still saw a slight blur in his left field of vision where there was none. A potion could heal bodily wounds, but the mind did not heal so easily.
The man’s next words were as he expected.
“Help me…”
“I’m sorry,” Alex said, “I cannot.”
He turned to leave, but the man clutched at his pant legs in desperation. “Please…you’re strong right? Pro-protect me! Or even just…food…” His stomach grumbled and he slinked back down abashedly.
Food. Alex was not short on food. It’d been the first thing he’d stocked up before the apocalypse, yet the man could’ve asked him for his steel dagger and he might’ve hesitated less.
Going down to one knee, Alex pressed some jerky into the man’s fist. “It’s not much, but no one has a lot of food right now. This was just from my sign on bonus, don’t bother stretching it. Just give yourself a full stomach.”
“Tha–”
“No need for thanks.” Alex turned to leave, then suppressed an impatient sigh and sat down next to him so that they were level with one another. “What’s your name, man?”
“It’s… Julian,”
He gave his name in reflex. His stare was void of any recognition as he looked at the jerky in his hand so Alex waited him out. Where fog concealed distance from the eye, the clouds in Julian’s vision instead concealed the present. With eyes that looked only inward, whatever Julian saw of the world was not true reality but a collection of thoughts and memories strung disjointedly to resemble something that made sense. Before Alex had ever come to know violence, he’d spent his late teens among the homeless and that had familiarized him to the type enough.
Eventually, Julian began picking at his meal, and as if only just noticing Alex was still there, he turned to face him. “Are you a pitcher?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
He mimed a throwing motion. “The muscles on your right arm.”
“Oh.” Alex felt there, not noticing much difference himself. “My work sees me using my dominant arm more. You?”
“Catcher. Or was… I played backup for the Mets. Retired some years ago…”
A small smile died on Julian’s lips before it could fully take root and his words trailed off. A silence hung between them again and the man tilted his head up. Alex followed his gaze, taking the clear sky’s beauty through the rafters
“Wow… the world’s really gone to shit, huh.”
Alex grunted.
“You think there’ll still be another season of Stranger Things?”
Alex frowned. Stranger thi… ah. “Probably not,” he said.
“So it’s just going to leave off like that huh…”
Alex wondered for a second if what he was doing was pointless and he should just leave. Julian wasn’t exactly delirious any longer, but he was clearly in denial. What he needed to be doing was leveling himself while there were still easy mobs out there, but no doubt Jun would’ve tried to convince him of that already, so what could Alex possibly do for him?
More importantly, Gloomy had taken the quest he needed and every second he tarried here the distance between them grew.
He tarried regardless.
“I don’t know,” he said, “Stranger Things kind of sucked.”
“What?!”
Julian whirled and Alex knew he’d grabbed his attention. Was that any true? Maybe. He couldn’t remember actually watching it, but he thought he might’ve caught an episode or three while his roommate had it on in the background.
“Just felt like it outgrew its original vision.”
“Really?” Julian scoffed. “That’s your complaint? You–you’re out of your mind dude.”
Alex gave a lopsided grin. Ain’t we all.
“Then what, did you just watch the Simpsons every night? Say you’ve co-come home from work, you got a beer cracked and everything, what do you put on?”
Alex took a second thinking on that. He’d been a fan of the Solarian League whenever a match came along that was big enough for Dykriest officials to justify the expenses of airing it. But that was hardly ever, down in the layers. And besides, he didn’t know how he’d explain to the man the appeal of watching two of the strongest people in the universe kill each other for sport. He wouldn’t have known how to explain it to himself.
“Nah, I wasn’t much for TV,” Alex said eventually. “Something always comes up and I end up leaving it half finished. I like movies though. Used to sneak into the theaters and decide what to watch at a glance. You can find some real treasures that way.”
Now it was Julian’s turn to smile.
He laughed and they talked some more. About movies, about hobbies, about favorite foods and about celebrity crushes. About nothing important. No family, no friends, no monsters, and the only magic on discussion was Alex’s schoolyard trick of disappearing his pinkie, made easier with his higher dexterity stat. For Julian, it was probably a much needed distraction, but for Alex it was a chance to reminisce.
Earth had always been a barred topic after the apocalypse. Alex never cared to hear what extraterrestrials had to say about it, and between his fellow people it only ever brought up painful memories. It had been their home, and though Alex had never truly found a place for himself there, it had been the only home planet he knew. Not the peaceful planet where he’d “apprenticed” to his Master, nor the dark and stagnant layers of Dykriest, were places he could call home. Even if the latter was where he’d slept in one place the longest. God forbid Nightmare.
No, only Earth.
But there was a disconnect there. For Julian, Earth was still his home, and when he spoke it was of the present, of a life he expected to return to, not knowing that the planet as a whole would one day face its death. Not even Alex could prevent that. And if Julian lived, he might one day see Earth the same way Alex did. A place to hold dear in the heart, but just a memory. A ghost of a world.
Before Alex had known it, he was already starting to speak of it as such, and it was just as well that Julian hadn’t noticed, as it would’ve been counterintuitive what he was trying to do. He checked his interface. Reminiscing, he’d lost track of time, and even more than he, time was something Julian didn’t have to spare.
“And then,” Julian cackled, “Then they decided to announce a sequel to the first one for whatever reason. Recontinued after all that, can you imagine?”
The man was meeting Alex’s eyes in conversation now. “Yeah, that does sound crazy.”
“Yeah, like what were they even think–”
Alex interrupted. “Julian, You have a choice to make.”
The man stopped short. Then, as if remembering where he was, his disposition made a one-eighty. His face seemed to darken even as it paled. “A choice?”
“While we sit here talking, the others are out there killing the remaining undead and getting stronger. They asked you to come with them, didn’t they?”
Julian’s immediate panic told Alex he’d been right.
“I’m not going!” He yelled. “You saw what those bastards were like! I’m not going to risk my life so–”
“That’s not what the choice is,” Alex growled.
He’d growled. Julian was only an ordinary man and when he flinched back into meekness, Alex realized he probably shouldn’t have done that. He tried to put the softness back into his gaze, but it wouldn’t come.
Instead, he summoned his gun into his grip, the one he’d taken from the dead man who still lay just outside this building. He unclipped its magazine and removed its bullets one by one until only a single remained, then he clicked it back into place. He could feel the skittish gaze along his spine as he did so.
“Easy now,” he said, arm outstretched, “I’m not here to force you to go, Julian. No one’s forcing you to do anything. But this safe zone will only last one more hour and we both know staying here isn’t an option. When Jun returns he’ll want to leave immediately.”
The older man gulped. “A-and then… I’ll be on my own.”
His teeth chattered a little and he clutched his head. His eyes began to cloud again until Alex was certain he wasn’t truly seeing his surroundings anymore, only the horrific death he inevitably faced. Why am I doing this?
“No,” Alex said. “You won’t be on your own. He’ll take you with him, but…”
Julian wasn’t hearing him. “Please… protect me. Don’t leave me alone, Alex. Take me with you…”
That… wasn’t going to happen. Julian wouldn’t keep up where he was heading, and Alex didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. Two hundred and seventeen survived to the end of Nightmare. And even those that had found Return Crystals like Alex had were in the vast minority. The man crying and begging before him didn’t stand a chance.
“No,” he said simply. “I can’t take you with me. But have you ever faced true starvation before? Have you ever experienced the pain of…”
“Oh god,” Julian droned, “I’m going to die… Leslie, I’m going to…someone save…”
The man’s incessant mumbling quickly became unintelligible. Alex pinched his eyes in frustration.
Why do I bother?
“Julian, look!” Alex snapped his fingers and the man raised his head for a moment. “You’re not going to be abandoned. Jun will take you whether you’re useful or not because that’s just the kind of person he is. But he won’t be able to protect you, Julian. That’s on you.”
“No. No no no, I can’t do it. I can’t risk my–”
“Julian! Stand up this instant! On your fucking feet!”
Alex used his best sergeant voice. The older man flinched, and for a second he wasn’t the same person who’d been sniveling on the ground but someone harder. Shakily, he followed the order until both of them stood eye to eye.
Alex took his gun and pressed it into Julian’s palm, closing his fingers around it into a firm grip. He tried to pull away, but Alex kept it there. “I told you you have a choice to make.”
“I can’t…”
“I’m not telling you to risk your life,” Alex said coldly. “You’re already risking it, just by being here. But you have to decide now how you’re going to spend it. On your own terms.”
Understanding flashed in Julian’s eyes. He didn’t pull back, so Alex continued.
“It’s only going to get worse. Stay here and starve to death if you’d like. Follow Jun like a lost lamb if you must, but if you keep like this it’s only going to get worse.” Alex’s voice took on a grim tone. “You’ll wish you ended it here, Julian.”
The man quailed. His eyes, which had begun to clear became murky again. Distantly, Alex was aware of the guild attendant watching them, with a stillness as thick as the air around them. Julian’s hand, the one that held the gun, shook and he began to raise it to his temple.
Alex gripped the barrel tightly.
“Not on impulse.” He scolded. “I’m not telling you that this is the answer, I’m just telling you what’s going to happen. Think about it and take your time.”
Alex’s eyes held none of their softness anymore. Softness had no place here, but he made Julian look into them regardless. “Some fates are worse than death.” He said. “But no fate is sealed. If you accept the other’s help, if you prepare yourself while there’s still easy targets, if you fight for your life, then there’s always a chance. Choose wisely, Julian, but make your choice now.”
Silence stretched for a long instant and Alex stepped back. The Guild’s attendant watched on with hollow eyes.
Eventually, Julian chose.
“It would’ve been kinder to let him do it,” she said.
Alex didn’t respond. He simply stared off in the direction Julian had gone off to reunite with the other other survivors, his back turned from her. She was right. Alex would be cursed for his interference by the end of this.
But maybe, just maybe, they were both wrong.
Remembering herself, the attendant resumed her character. “Adventurer, would you like to learn more about Demon King Eldiwin and his Eight Undead Lords–”
“Apologies,” Alex said, “But I’m in a rush. You said the girl that grabbed that quest came by this morning? Was it right at dawn by any chance?”
“Yes.”
Alex nodded his thanks and turned, leaving for the gates. He had a long way to travel if he wanted to catch up.
***
Jun left the town through the same gates he’d entered through, the sun casting long shadows on him as it began its descent. The evenings in this world were terrifying. The sun fell so fast that one second it’d been high in the sky, and the next he was already bathing in its golden glow. He read the note by its light, then crumpled it.
Meet me in the city. 16:00, twenty-nine days from now. A bar called Lucian’s Tomb in the northwest sector.
- Alex
Jun didn’t know what to think of Alex anymore. These last couple nights had been a sleepless tempest of confusing emotions, and during that time the man had come into his life, betrayed him, helped him, saved him, helped him save the others, and then disappeared without another word. What was he even supposed to think?
Or maybe what he thought didn’t matter. The letter was omitting one important detail: If. This was only if he reached the city. He closed his eyes.
“Jun? Which path should we choose?” someone asked.
Ahmed, Frank, Julian, Kim, Donovan, Aili, Rachel, Brennen. In his mind's eye they were all looking to his back for direction. In his mind’s eye, shut against the world’s light, he saw them as wolves staring daggers at his back. They were friendly now, but what about when he could no longer provide for them?
No, these were good people. It was wrong to think of them like that.
“It says we have to choose one of them for Scenario Three. Jun?”
He kept his eyes closed, taking some calming breaths. In through the nose… hold… and out through the mouth. They were good people.
Jolyn had been a good person too, probably.
Jun wasn’t sure when she’d died, but they’d found her corpse by the end of the day. Blunt trauma to the head, no sign of struggle. The bone-shard necklace he’d given her was missing and that worried him most of all. They’d exterminated all the undead in that town and there’d still been it hadn’t turned up.
Nor was there any sign of that young girl. He hadn’t found her corpse with the others in the catacombs. He could only hope she was doing alright.
“Jun?”
Someone called for him again. He opened his eyes. “We’ll go with the Path of Poisoned Thorns,” he said.
He didn’t think it mattered which they chose, they all had equally ominous descriptions.
Scenario 3: Passage
You have been provided three paths through the Mists of Lost Souls to the city of Blank. Supply drops containing food and water will be visible from all three, but only the path ahead is safe. Beware what lurks in the mists. Take care that you don’t find yourself lost.
Clear Conditions: Arrive at the city within 30 days.
Penalty for failure: Death.
Jun stood at the unnatural treeline separating the mists from plains of dead grass. Those tempestuous whispers pulled and pushed at his mind and he could only guess they belonged to the ‘lost souls’. Regardless a path cleared before him, pushing the mist’s boundaries away.
Last he had stood here, the guide had been here to lead him. Now, he of all people had others looking to him for directions. He didn’t know how it had happened, he’d just wanted to help them.
You can’t trust them, a voice said.
But he set that voice aside for now and turned, looking back at his companions. Kim crossed her arms expectantly. Julian smiled. Frank muttered something about getting on with it and Ahmed hooked his arm around the man’s shoulder telling him to take it easy. He felt a smile pull at his lips and it felt a little crazy but they’d almost made the day a little easier for him.
‘Easier’, the word felt wrong. They’d spent the day hunting down demons, and losing even more people. Jun was running on so little sleep right now that he couldn’t see straight. He still didn’t know if his family or friends were alright, and yet their company had given him some modicum of comfort by the simple fact that he wasn’t alone.
He couldn’t trust him, he knew, but it didn’t seem to matter. His [Howl] skill was broken and though he still had the skill stone from that necromancer there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed. He wasn’t Alex. When it came down to it, he needed them to survive as much as they needed him. And he really did want to help them if he could.
If. Or maybe he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Sleep mostly. He sighed.
“It’s getting dark,” he said, “Let's head out for a bit and if it really is safe we’ll set up camp for the night.”
His companions all assented and they entered the path, mists closing around them. Julian lagged behind a little but Aili and Ahmed helped him along. They were all good people. but when Jun turned his back to them, all he could see were the wolves.
[Path of Poisoned Thorns]
The more beautiful the Rose, the more poison lies on its prick.
May your passage prove safe.