As an answer, Zan kicked up his bike's stand, and like the chilliest of the cool kids, launched himself into the horizon, peddling hard to reach the pass alongside the loyalist regular. What Colonel Winters said, how he couldn't afford anyone to go back and save him should things go awry... it lit a fire in Zan's heart to not die harder than ever before. He didn't know if he had entered the 'Shining' state, as he had at the conclusion of the labor camp raid, but he sure felt irradiated with purpose.
His heart throbbed. Pounding his soul. He had to keep up. If I don't, I will be overwhelmed and killed by the enemy's sheer force. I have to keep up.
Zan rode hard. He was thankful for the smooth plains terrain which made peddling as easy as it could be for a youth to power-bike through. Latently, after a determined period of time where Zan's one focus was to peddle and outpace the vast, blob-like shade of the enemy host. That is all I have to do, is outrun the living shadow. If I don't get swept under the wooden shadow covering the land, then I will survive. I will successfully retreat after finishing my objectives. Intrusion of a new enemy or not, Zan and Winters would be in great shape, strategically speaking, if they fled into the pass.
Zan heard to his back the never-ending crunch of the earth under the feet of the horses. Already, the horse riders are catching up to me.
Focusing harder than ever on the vague strip of the horizon, which was his objective, Zan gained, suddenly, a System notification: [Objective Marked on HUD Display].
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A bright sun-like orb colored by a dimming ratio, occupied an aspect of the forward sky. Next to the orb was a distance indicator which ran down the closer Zan came to his destination.
With more riders passing Zan by the second, the more useful the headset's ability to mark his destination became. If Zan encountered an obstacle which the riders easily trampled over due to their creature's ease of burden, Zan could spend a moment trouble shooting which direction he should go for an obstacle. If he hit too many obstacles, he simply reversed course and built a new path over the impediment. In his fly-of-the-moment attitude, Zan overcame many adverse riding conditions. He went about his task so methodically, he forgot for a moment that the further the riders got from him, and the more his destination remained a big number on his destination indicator, the closer he got to death.
While Zan rode, he felt himself abstract further from the world he knew. He felt lightheaded. He felt... dizzy and strange, like his mind was slowly creaking open to welcome an uninvited chamber guest. What's happening to me? Zan asked, panting.
Although Zan did not lose sight of his destination and continued to peddle hard, he felt a disconnect between his thinking-self and physical, laboring-self. Almost as though he had disassociated and was seeing himself through another's lens. The faraway trees looked somehow even further away, like darkly tinged pricks on some infinite rind. Overhead, the sky cheered for itself as a celebration, but every sound moved slowly, like a slug moving through a salted molasses.
"Can you hear me?" a voice asked Zan.
Who is it? Zan's thinking-self asked.
"It is I, Mentality..."