Seth stared at the notification. It blazed in front of him in morbid mockery.

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Event: [Igor’s Interest]

You have garnered the attention of the Reverend Igor. Keep it and excel. Take the path laid out before you and show him what it means to intrude on the domain of another.

Objective Failed: [Strike Igor 0/1]

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He’d really thought he could do it this time. It had all seemed possible. Then he activated [Echo Draw] and known it was not. The world around him had felt less. Against the Guda Snake, when his senses had spread out around him it had been all encompassing. He’d known everything, sensed everything. The world was his.

When he’d activated it now, it had been different. Patchy. Incomplete. It had felt as if the world resisted him where it had simply bowed to his will the first time. And while the sword had felt off the moment his hand had touched it, he knew it was simply because it was different, wooden.

But that was not all. The draw wasn’t as easy as it had been. Something about the way he cut through the air, the way it cut through the air. And his movement was sloppy. His speed not as fast.

Why was it so different now than it had been then?

Two words, one mind thought. Dainik and Masamune.

Off to his side, Igor said something he didn’t catch. It sounding like a scathing remark, or a piece of advice. It did not matter. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Dainik and Masamune. They both rejected reia. But what did that have to do with anything?

When we fought the snake, there was no reia to stand in our way.

He wanted to disagree. He wanted to say the skill created a void. He wanted to claim his reach was born from [Fractured Mind]. He did not. All the reia he’d lost had to have gone somewhere.

Are we the only ones paying attention? Another mind chided. How do you not even know how our own skill works?

That damned skill heightens your focus and shuts us up, another lectured. But [Echo Draw] creates a space around you that you have a better level of control over.

And how is this done?

Igor was already walking away when the answer came from another fragment of his mind. By releasing your reia into the world around you. You flood the world with it, and hold it.

“Pick yourselves up, slackers!” Igor bellowed somewhere far from him. “You still have your training with the knife.”

He’s not talking to you, one of his minds thought as he moved to rise, only to realize he was still standing.

He made a mental calculation. He flooded the world with his reia. That explained why the skill took so much out of him. Then why had it been easier then? Because Dainik had been repelling the ambient reia from the beginning? But wasn’t it supposed to interfere with his then?

“That means it was easier because…”

Because there wasn’t much ambient reia to interfere with the dominion of your reia, one of his minds finished for him.

As much as he appreciated their help making him understand, something was off about them. Something had been off about them for a while. They didn’t bicker so much. And they felt… he wasn’t sure what word he was looking for; what would best describe it.

He dropped the sword from his grip and stood straighter. Igor had forgotten to take it from him. But he wasn’t going to hunt down the priest just to give it back. One, he didn’t want to face the man again just yet. Two, he didn’t have the strength to.

He returned his attention to his mind as Timi approached him and said. “Head count.”

Why?

“Shut up and answer as I count. One.”

One.

“Two.”

Two.

“Three.”

A sigh slipped in his mind. Three.

“Four.”

Silence.

“Four?”

Another sigh. Four.

Seth’s jaw dropped. “Five?” he asked, unsure. No answer came, so he asked again. “Five?”

His eyes moved around, his breath held. He was a boy looking for sounds with eyes and ears.

When no answer came, he released a breath he’d held. His mind was four times split.

“Since when?” he asked.

About a day ago.

“When I became Iron?"

Yes.

Timi was close now but Seth ignored his approach. “And when were you going to tell me?”

When we had him up to speed on how things work.

“Him?”

Yes, a mind replied, perplexed. You’re a guy. And we are you. Did you think there was a part of you that was going to be a 'her'?

Seth left the answer to the question unsaid. It shed no positive light on him. Instead, he probed further. “I am to believe you were catching him up to speed.”

Yes. That, and you were going to find out eventually.

“And how will I do that? He asked, voice lowering as Timi drew nearer. “I wasn’t even sure there were three of you, not really.”

The next time you decided to split your attention.

“I haven’t done that in ages,” he whispered, harshly.

You still do. It’s just less conscious now. The next time you do it you’ll find there’s one of us without a role.

Seth frowned at his minds but held his tongue. Timi was standing beside him now. Watching.

I don’t think I should’ve stopped you, Timi signed.

From what? He signed back.

Fighting Forlorn.

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You think I’d have won.

Timi shrugged. Take a look.

He stepped aside and Seth watched Forlorn struggle to stand. His face contorted in anger and he mumbled something under his breath. He wasn’t the only one struggling. But he was the only one whose struggle made him smirk.

He turned back to Timi and laughed. I’d have killed him.

Timi laughed, struggling to make coherent hand signs and failing. His laugh deepened and he abandoned whatever he intended to sign.

As they laughed, the sight of Timi’s skill came back to Seth. It dampened his mood.

Just as Igor had said, Oscar strolled into the hall a few minutes after. Seth’s brothers had picked themselves up by the time he arrived. However, he noted their looks. Something in them had changed. Jason’s held an envy poorly contained. Barnabas looked terrified. Forlorn did nothing to hide his growing hate. Fin’s reaction was likely the simplest. He looked at him like one would look at a competent teammate. Seth almost laughed at the thought of the boy remembering he still thought he was wrong in the head.

The disappointment would be earth shaking.

One of his minds laughed. Just like his skill.

Training with the knife did not change. Oscar still put them through the same routine. He had them practice their cuts and slashes, thrusts and deflections. Then he had them do it with two knives. When he was satisfied, he had them spar each other, switching their partners with sudden calls. Sometimes he would pull one of them away from their partners just to add them to another so that two brothers faced one.

“You will not always have the luxury of an honorable opponent,” he told them. “So learn to fight dishonorable opponents in dishonorable ways.”

Life in the seminary went on after that. They had their lessons and suffered the confinement of the large compound of only black buildings. Sundays were still held swimming through a river and climbing a tower too tall compared to the other buildings.

There, on Sunday, Reverend Ivan continued to educate them on the nature of reia. He taught them its effects and holds, then taught them of cores.

The learning of cores was not the only new thing for them. Emriss proved herself evolutionary in the use of guns. They ventured into her class one day to find a dissembled weapon. The parts before them were too many to be a simple handgun.

“Today,” she told them. “We will learn the use of the sniper rifle. And as all guns, you must first learn to assemble and disassemble them.”

Forlorn held back his enthusiasm for weapons. He stood before his table of parts in solemn silence, appreciative in it.

When Emriss began teaching, she did so with a set of disassembled parts as well. Each parts she put together, they were forced to imitate. She turned the rifle and they did, screwed something in and they followed.

Their first lesson with the rifle went on in the same way. The monotony grated not only at Seth.

As her lessons went on, they finally mastered what she intended until they could assemble and pull it apart on their own. When they thought they would transition into the shooting, they returned one day to find a new set of parts. Another rifle.

She did not teach them the assembly of this one. Instead, she instructed they figure it out. Sometimes, apparently, they would come across a weapon they did not understand. Figuring out how to assemble it was as important as figuring out how to use it.

Seth did not agree.

When the day finally came to shoot, they did not do so in the massive hall.

Emriss led them out into the woods. She guided them through the same the same path Clint led them during his lessons. They walked the length of their hunting grounds, then further. She led them through trees and around reia beasts. Through dirt and grime. When she brought them to a halt, it was where the mist was thinnest.

“You will find your place,” she told them in a tone that broached no arguments. “From today on you will learn not only how to shoot, but how to be a sniper.”

Barnabas raised a hand. “What’s the difference?”

“Positioning.” She strolled towards a particularly large tree. It was black as dead night. “Holding a sniper doesn’t make you a sniper. Three things do. First, how to shoot. Second, knowing where to shoot from. And third, knowing when to move.”

“When to move?” Barnabas asked, perplexed.

“When to move. You’ll find out soon.”

And they did.

For their first lesson they hunted a silver rank reia beast. Or at least she told them it was silver rank. It was a wild boar that stood as tall as Emriss with tusks that came up two feet high, curved inwards as if to pierce its own eye. An indigene of the planet, evolved from reia.

She set them up paces from the boar. At least fifty far. She gave them ten minutes to find a place to shoot from. They found one with grumbles about the unfairness of the time. It was a large enough space with high trees, thin trees. When she called them to start, Seth’s minds confirmed ten minutes counted. She had no watch, none Seth knew of, and she counted time herself. Her accuracy was uncanny.

She spotted the boar out for them. Marked its hide with a slap of blue paint.

From their places of hiding, it wasn’t long before the first shot cracked the air, and Seth’s minds tracked it from his place squatted on a particularly thick branch surrounded by other branches.

It was Jason.

He peered through the trees and found the boar unharmed. When another shot rang out, he marked Barnabas’ location.

However, the first to nick the creature was Forlorn. His shot grazed its tusk where he’d no doubt been aiming for the head and it bucked. For the first time since the lesson began the beast of a boar moved.

First, it scuttled around. It was a savage thing. It tussled up dirt and grime. Bucked once, then twice. It was an angry thing. A rampage of a tantrum. When the next shot struck it in the side and rebounded, it stopped. The next shot never caught it. It stepped to the side and the bullet whizzed past. Then it turned and Seth watched its eyes sharpen.

When it charged, they understood the reason a good sniper knew when to move.

Seth cocked his rifle, slid a bullet into the chamber. He sighted down his scope and took aim. The beast was a livid thing. It charged down a path, undeterred. Made its way for a sniper who remained in place. Forlorn fired off another shot and the boar budged to the side.

That’s one creepy reia beast, one of Seth’s minds pointed out.

“You don’t say,” he said, aim trailing after it.

Think Forlorn can put it down?

“He’s had three shots. None of which did anything,” he whispered, as if speaking too loud would draw the beast’s attention. “I don’t think any bullet we have can bring it down.”

He turned his aim away from the beast. The world blurred in his vision as it moved. When he stopped, it was in the general direction of Forlorn. Quick as he could, he zeroed his aim on his brother. He found him prepping for another round.

Is he too stupid to run?

Seth shook his head. “Just too arrogant.”

Are we helping him?

“No,” Seth answered and another shot rang through the air.

It struck the beast in the leg and bounded off. It staggered to the side, tilted as if to stumbling, then righted itself. It paused for the barest moment, turned its head to one side, then returned to its charge.

We can’t say we’re surprised Barnabas tried that.

“He’s trying to draw it from Forlorn.”

We don’t think that would do much good, though.

Seth shook his head as another bullet bounced off the creature. “But it does seem weak in the leg.”

He sighted down his scope and aimed. The boar charged passed trees, raised up dust as it moved. It made it difficult to take aim. It did not dissuade him, though. He focused his attention. His breath came to him in quick bursts as it always did. Today, it annoyed him so he calmed it. Took slow, heavy breaths. Then squeezed the trigger.

The weapon bucked, fought against his hold. He took the brunt of it with his shoulder, buttressed it so that the kickback did not drive his aim askew.

The sound of a sniper rifle was a massive boom in the air. It hurt his ear and he winced. He’d known it would be loud, had even prepared for it. But experiencing the sound was a different thing from the imagination. Being right next to it when it went off was a different kind of noise.

We missed, a mind thought.

He reached for the side of the weapon, took hold of the small handle beside the chamber, and cocked another bullet into place.

“Tell me about it.”

He squeezed the trigger again. This time, he hit the beast in the hind leg. He watched the bullet bounce off and the creature stumble. It turned its head, searching, wanting. Seth held his breath, stilled himself on the tree.

You think it saw us?

Unwilling to make a sound, he waited quietly. If it found him, he would have to move. Someone else pulled their trigger and missed entirely. The boar didn’t deign the attempt worthy of a reaction. A second shot rang out and missed again. When the third shot came, it was after a moment long enough to be considered one of contemplation. It went eerily wide.

Bet our bottom thought that’s Timi, one mind thought.

Bless his soul.

He didn’t do shit, another pointed out. We’re all just saying it cause he’s our fat friend.

It’s the thought that counts.

And I don’t think we can call him fat anymore, another thought, nonchalant. He’s more bulk than fat now.

True.

“Not the time, guys.” Seth mumbled, as the boar returned to charging Forlorn.

He panned his aim back to his brother and found him still laid behind what looked like a fallen log. It served as cover as well as a buttress for his sniper rifle. He had his eye behind the scope and was primed for another shot.

The fool, one mind scoffed.

Another agreed vehemently. Is he stupid or something?

“Not. The. Time,” Seth hissed.

He returned his aim to the boar and stared down the distance between them. When he found his aim, chosen out of curiosity, he took the shot. The boar squealed something painful, veered to the side and hit a tree. The tree quaked but did not fall.

The creature forced itself back on its feet as Seth cocked another bullet in his chamber and sighted down his rifle. He was glad it was a reia beast. All they had were reia infused bodies, powerful, but only that. If it had been a soul beast it would’ve been tricky. It could have a skill capable of piercing long distances. With a reia beast all he had to worry about was keeping his distance.

When his aim readjusted, he found himself staring the creature in the eye. Its one good eye. His shot had taken out the other eye. And, apparently, sent it into a wilder rage. Red blood pooled from its injured eye, steam rising from it like something hot in the winter. He watched its slow disregard for Forlorn. It didn’t flinch as one of his shots bounced of its face.

Then it charged him.