Xershi Ttakc did his best to maintain his composure as he followed Randidly Ghosthound up the swirling staircase toward the next ring. Already, his body trembled from the pressure of resisting the encroachment of antagonistic space; he kept his word and stayed well back, so as not to glean even the slightest bit of help from the Ghosthound.

His pride was a double-edged sword at the moment. Yet he refused to back down from this chance.

As far as Xershi could tell, he was coming to a point where he would run out of pride and just collapse. His legs shook as he took the next step. The Engraving that should have accelerated their movements only activated sporadically. Sometimes they jumped long chunks toward the next ring, but more often they were involved in long slogs forward up stairs crackling with electromagnetic tension.

The Ghosthound walked serenely forward, almost unaffected by these spatial interferences. The darkness that swirled around his left eye now spread to cover his own head, masking his features. More than that, Xershi didn’t dare look directly at him. Some vital energy was leached from his cells by the Ghosthound’s swirling darkness. His strained body was left chilled, weak, and shivering. So he kept his eyes on the ground and focused on his own struggles.

The Ghosthound’s image doesn’t seem particularly impressive. The shape is well defined, but the emotional affect lacks… something. Yet how can he be so resilient against the spatial pressures? Xershi’s servo motors hummed increasingly fast, resisting the pull of oblivion. With his teeth grinding together, he continued to put one foot in front of another, clinging to the hopes of how this journey could change him.

Part of it was he was finally ascending; after four long years of waiting with Gwennet’s stalled group, he had finally taken his first steps forward. The pain was a sign of change. Xershi could finally test his limits. Next to him, the space hugged especially close as it collapsed, causing a wave of pain to go through his body. After an agonizing moment, the spatial tide receded and he hurried to catch up.

But the real reason was personal pride: Xershi had spent the last several months hearing detailed stories about Randidly Ghosthound. And now he wanted to prove to himself that the rapidly growing young man wasn’t as impressive as the stories he had heard from his father. Yet currently, Xershi admitted to himself he had no reason to look down on the Ghosthound.

Xershi’s father, Zemnal, had risen to prominence in the Sixth Cohort and come to the Nexus with big dreams. Despite the harshness of reality, he managed to secure a partnership with Don Beigon building and designing others of his metallic race for particular and often unsavory purposes. The Nexus elite were fickle and imaginative in their requests, leading to a booming business. Once the issue of faction had been settled, Zemnal rapidly accumulated insights and technical savvy. By the time he had created Xershi and his brothers for personal fulfillment, he was lauded as a genius across the Nexus.

Most non-blood related servants to major powers were beings designed and created by Zemnal.

Xershi eyed the Ghosthound ahead of him. If he had skin, he likely would have been flushed. The worst part is, I cannot help but benefit from him stabilizing the space around him. Yet even with his presence easing the pressure… why the hell am I at my limit? Is this really all I can handle?!?

Xershi’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. His servos revved and whined, all that mechanical force surging along through his body. He had the sudden and violent urge to lash out at the Ghosthound’s back, just to see him unbalanced.

This impulse he suppressed; even violence could wait until they were out of the hellish stairwell. That aggression should be channeled, not unleashed. Xershi heaved up his legs, driving his heels into each step.

As Zemnal’s abilities increased, he was included more often in the Don’s inner circle. And through that, he began to receive information about the exploits about the hottest rising star in the Nexus, Randidly Ghosthound. Through Zemnal, Xershi, who at the time was simply sitting and sharpening his image in the bottom portion of the Sonara, also learned of this man and his meteoric rise.

When Claudette became involved with him, the reports became near-constant and increasingly critical of the Ghosthound’s motivations and decision-making skills. He made foes freely and didn’t have much long term planning. However, one glowing review was constant; he was an incredibly talented fighter with an explosive growth rate. The Don speculated he might be the fastest rising competitor in the history of the Nexus.

Not that Xershi was jealous of that title. Or that he particularly resented the Ghosthound’s strength. But of Zemnal’s three children, Xershi was the only one who rebelled against their father’s will. He left the home to test himself. He ran toward danger, trying to find his way in the world.

His gaze fixated on the Ghosthound’s back. This was a way forward. This was what it took to succeed and carve a path in the Nexus. This power-

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The staircase flickered and activated, lurching the two of them upward. Whatever damage prevented it from functioning had given them one last boost. Xershi released a hiss of steam, his pressurized insides complaining of the rough activation even while he mentally thanked the fickle Engraving for the boost. Only a short distance above them, the golden portal waited. The Ghosthound already accelerated, climbing the last few steps in an instant and pushing his way through.

As the Ghosthound approached the portal, the darkness and milky light swirling around his head fizzled and faded. Even his image couldn’t withstand the pressure of the image interference. It was cathartic to see.

Xershi grimaced; suddenly, it was his turn. Passing through the portals was the worst part, but a necessary step. Again, the pain marked progress. So he forced his legs to churn, following the Ghosthound up and through the portal. For a brief moment, his senses buzzed with pure agony. His psyche felt so crowded with foreign images that he couldn’t think. His walking stalled out, extending the moment even longer.

His interior two apertures began to click and flicker. With a great effort, he forced himself further onto the other side-

He was knocked sideways, crashing into one of the stone outcroppings. His apertures almost chirped as their engagement intensified and he leapt back up, ready for violence. Heat flooded through his body. A wicked smile spread across his face. Had the Ghosthound betrayed him? Perhaps this-

But as his vision returned, his enthusiasm for a duel was tossed into cold water. A weird image of suppression settled across his shoulders, making his valiant spirit turn sluggish. A group of about ten burly orcs leered at the two of them. They all wore several mismatched pieces of brass armor. Their eyes were bright and waves of dampening image rolled off their shoulders.

Xershi had heard about Drum’s orcs. A flash of hot adrenaline flooded through his body.

The largest and most muscular of the group had the Ghosthound by the throat. Although due to his short stature, he couldn’t life the much taller Ghosthound off the ground. “Well, well, well boys. Some rats, skittering in through the cracks. What should we do with the rodents?”

“Eat em’,” Another grunted. The whole group began to chortle with grim certainty. A few shifted from foot to foot excited, raising their weapons.

Xershi began a rapid series of calculations. Drum of the Third Ring and his specially bred Orc servants were the main reason that Ascension Pacts had become a thing. Without teamwork, it was almost impossible to overcome the orcs living here. Despite the fact they were originally monsters, Drum had brought them here in the earliest days of the Sonara to work as a security force. They had been bred for physical invulnerability and reliable images that simply suppressed other images.

At a distance, anyone capable of rising to the Sonara could overpower them. Even a group this size, if you could keep your image in the dominant position, they were beatable. But up close, their image had already dominated the surrounding area. Fighting to destabilize their control was an uphill and exhausting battle. Plus with their Endurance and Resistance-

“Let go of my throat,” The Ghosthound said calmly. His clear voice cut through all the cruelty and laughter. “I plan on just heading up to the next ring. If you don’t-”

“If you threaten me again, boy,” The leader cackled. He flexed his hand to emphasize his point. Thick veins bulged on his forearm grabbing the Ghosthound. “I’ll squeeze your throat until your head pops and blood squirts out your ears.”

The question is, Xershi thought to himself as he witnessed his extremely short-term companion be completely unimpressed by the orc’s words. Whether I use the Ghosthound’s struggles to try and escape or if I help him.

In the end, it was an easy question. Xershi had left home because he was tired of obeying someone else all the time. Tired of feeling forced into decisions, tired of being the last one asked for his opinion, tired of everyone thinking they knew better than him. So now, with these orcs threatening him, he dug in his heels.

He settled down into a crouch, preparing to unleash his image to assist the Ghosthound. However, the Ghosthound moved first. His hand came up and eclipsed the orc’s head. The gesture seemed to resemble a pat, but then he palmed the orc’s entire face. Even though he had noticed those hands at the Ghosthound’s sides and noticed their size, it was another thing entirely to see those long fingers wrap around a head. He moved quickly and the fingers tightened; the movement was sinuous and sharp.

There was a noise that was half a sharp crack and half a fist being driven through the side of a rotten pumpkin.

When he pulled his hand away, a crunched and bloody skull remained. The orc corpse collapsed sideways. Instantly, all the others stiffened. It was the strangest thing. They all pulled out their weapons in the face of the show of violence, but Xershi could smell the difference. The orcs were filled with fear.

Xershi had heard the Ghosthound had high Stats, but this was fucking ridiculous.

“Okay, anyone else want to do anything stupid?” The Ghosthound glanced around at them all. The orcs leaned back as his eyes landed on them, wanting to run away but their pride refusing to allow them to. The Ghosthound snorted. “Good. Alright, which direction to the exterior stairwell? I just want to keep moving.”

“Ah, that way.” After a moment of silence, an orc worked up the courage to speak. When the Ghosthound’s gaze flicked to him, the interrogated orc ducked his head. As he replied, he very visibly trembled. “But I do not wish for you to be disappointed- His Lordship Drum does not trust us with the defenses. He has demolished the exterior staircase around the third ring. We are here just to… to detect intruders. Even if you overcome us, the climb is impossible-”

“The Path leads directly through the big boss, huh,” The Ghosthound scowled. Yet what made Xershi’s heart flutter was how while seemingly inconvenienced, he didn’t hesitate at all. The dark-haired man cracked his neck. “Well then, lead the way. Seems like it’s time I had a chat with your employer.”