*************

Wyatt Graves

"No, that's said like Oh-colt-ist. And that one is Pr-ow-ler. This one is Fi-los-o-fer."

Elizabeth raises her head, staring into my eyes with hers. I can't believe it took hours until we reached a word like this that's so odd to pronounce.

"Why does the 'ph' make an 'f' sound?"

Shrugging, I can only tap on the word again with my metallic hand as my flesh hand pets Dakota, the sleeping fox beside me, on the floor.

"I can't answer that. Chero is weird. I just emulate whatever my Ma taught me."

She nods, her hair sliding on the cushions of the fancy chair. Then, Elizabeth moves her arm and puts her head atop a closed fist as she peers at me curiously.

"Yeah... what about your Ma? You never talked about her before. What was she like? I know so few women who can read, and they all, without exception, have Sigils. Did she?"

I bite my lip as I consider how to answer. Ma and Aniwye are still sore subjects, even if I've forgiven her for what she did to me as a child. But... Elizabeth deserves the truth just as I did.

"My Ma... I guess you could say she had a Sigil---"

Yet, I only make it into the first sentence of my story before Virgil bursts through the door of the rear car, entering the room. He seems in a rush, but as his hood shifts to us on the same chair, he mumbles a question that he quickly glosses over.

"Am I interrupting something? I hope not because we have a situation."

Elizabeth goes red as she glances at me and answers for us both as I recover from the surprise of him butting in. I thought he was tired? Oh, right. It's already been two hours for his nightly sleep. Or is it one now? I don't remember.

"No, no, no. What's the situation?"

Virgil nods slowly before stepping further into the room as a tired Abraham follows him, the latter with footfalls slurred and stiff. I notice his exhaustion and point it out as they approach the nearby table.

"You gamble all night long, Abraham?"

The half-Nahullo nods and admits to a comedic truth.

"Yeah. And the night before. Though the night before that, I was hunting down the Manipulator, which turned out to be Darkstep. Anyway, here's what we found a minute ago."

Abraham waves his hand atop the table as streams of Ether flow from his mind to Elizabeth's and mine. I don't resist as it appears harmless, and as the substance from him touches me, a mental image forms over the table.

The creation of mental might and Ether seems to depict a recent battlefield. The sight before me is chilling and near life-like from Abraham's mastery of illusions, or more specifically, hallucinations. The difference is that he has to get his Ether inside of the person for them to see it. Alexos could simply be nearby, and it would all work. As such, he is not as good as Alexos, mainly because they don't hold up to any scrutiny, but they look natural. His Ether emblems are a haunting testament to the horrors of war as it rotates before us, showing the entirety of the battlefield that he saw from the train window. Over a hundred lifeless bodies lay strewn across the torn ground, a tragic aftermath of violence and bloodshed.

As the image flickers, I see the details of the fallen soldiers and warriors, each one with their own story and dreams, now extinguished forever. For a moment, I feel awful for their deaths, thinking these are soldiers of Marshall that escaped only to get slaughtered, but Virgil brings my attention to the genuinely odd thing.

"These are Estatesmen and Damned. If you look at their shoulders, you'll see the emblems of the Shaw family and the standard gemstone weapons they possess."

Virgil continues talking, discussing the number of dead, but it is the massive divot in the ground that draws my focus, reminiscent of a powerful sword slash. The impact left by such force is unmistakable, and makes my spine a little cool. That is insane. What did that? It reminds me of something like Marshall's might, something unstoppable and unavoidable.

And on each side of the divot are the halves of a man while behind him are rows of trees slit in half by whoever did this. Did a demon do this? Some kinds wield blades, either at their hips or attached to their arms.

I shift closer, my eyes fixated on the scene as I try to figure it out. Red blood is the only color that dyes the grass and dirt, with most leaves turning crimson: no blue, green, or purple, the variants of demon blood.

As I study the image, I can almost hear the echoes of the battle, the clash of weapons, the cries of pain, and the thundering movement of whatever did this. For some reason... it feels like this wasn't an army against an army. All these men are of similar creed and Damned never rebel unless they earn their release. Which, on its own, is exceedingly rare.

Was this one creature? One demon? Or... one man?

I reach out to touch the psychic landscape of death, feeling a strange connection to the events it portrays. Yet, the moment I touch it, the image shatters into sparkling light with a curse from Abraham.

"Dammit! Pay attention, Wyatt! You know my Hallucination can't handle force! I'm no Phantom Pain!"

Abraham clutches the side of his head as I notice my mistake. Immediately I apologize and attempt to explain myself.

"Sorry... I just got lost in the image. I'm getting the feeling one enemy killed all those people."

Virgil snorts loudly, tapping the table toward me.

"Yeah, if you paid attention, you would have gotten that from Abraham. He said that he only sensed traces of one other mind with Allude alongside all the others that died, though three weak signals were also detected that arrived far after the fight. So, we need to figure out who did this. Elizabeth? Doesn't Earl have a skill that lets him see memories?"

Twisting in confusion as this is the first time I'm hearing this, I find Elizabeth nodding.

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"He does, but--"

"We'd have to stop the train to investigate."

Virgil butts in with a conclusion to Elizabeth's affirmation. Then she spills some worries out onto the table, her brows furrowed.

"I'm not sure if Johnny would be alright with that, though. He said he wanted no stops or detours on our way to Pridestead. Should we wake him up? This is his first time sleeping in almost a week..."

Virgil shakes his head as he stands, bopping Abraham with his gloved hand to keep the drifting man awake. Then, he turns to the engine of the train.

"No. Let him sleep. This will be a brief stop. Wyatt, Earl, and I will go check on the battlefield, then we'll come back. Just make sure Tomas is awake and that Bonfire, Abraham, and Primrose are ready in case we are attacked."

Elizabeth seems to be unsure, her head swinging back and forth in thought, but as I agree with Virgil to let the man sleep, I push her a bit further. Johnny needs his rest, after all. Tomas, too, but that particular Angel has a Nightowl and only needs to sleep four hours a night.

"He's beat, Elizabeth. Just let him sleep. Plus, we need this information, and the longer we wait, the longer it'll take to reach where we passed by. I want to know whether we're about to come into contact with a demon, a skilled Councilmember, or a hidden human."

Sighing, Elizabeth agrees as she stands and shuffles over to the engine, preparing to turn it off for a while. I hear her latch down a lever as a jolt slows the totality of the train, shunting us all a few inches forward from the momentum.

"Sure, but you guys have to be fast. Johnny was serious when he said we were in a hurry to get to Blackreach."

I nod as Virgil grabs me while the train gradually lags every second, moving fewer and fewer feet every moment. He squeezes my shoulder as he points toward the wall, motioning on the outside of the train.

"Go outside and make sure nothing is waiting for us. There is always a chance this was a trap. I'll go get Earl. Kid's probably juicing himself up and working on his inventions through the night."

Chuckling at the fact so many of us try everything not to sleep, I stride to the exit as the bottoms of the train squeal with a high-pitched noise. The door is easily opened after I twist a latch, and I find the landscape gradually moving beyond my sight as the train comes to a stop. But it's not quite there yet, so I lock eyes with a patch of dirt and twist to talk to Elizabeth.

"I'll finish that story about my Ma later."

She nods and wishes me good luck before I jump out with Ether simmering through my body to catch my fall. The sound of Virgil closing the door to find Earl rings out but is fast evaporated by the noise of the wind when I leap out.

The speed of my exit is far less than the train usually moves, but I still almost eat dirt upon landing. My legs hustle beneath me, even with Breakneck, as I struggle to keep up with my momentum and not fall. Ultimately, I fail and am forced to hold myself up with my hands as I trip over a branch.

Damn! I keep forgetting just how fast the train is. Yeah, catching up with that thing might be possible if I had infinite uses of Arbalest or speed like Kai Vinson. Coughing out a bit of dust that flew into my mouth just now, I push myself to my feet and pat down my pants.

Then, I gaze into the forest, leveraging Insight to peer through any illusions that might be. I trace hundreds of trees carefully with my eyes but find nothing. Not even the shifting shadows of animals are in the forest near the train. I suppose it makes sense with how loud it is, though.

The constant drone from the inside is annoying enough as it is. The piercing sound of it moving past is pretty bad, too.

I twist around and face the other side of the track as the train passes me entirely, and still, I find nothing. Yet, even with the surety of my eyes, I continue to look as I amble back toward where I left the train from. And as I reach the opened doorway, I find Virgil forcing Earl out.

"Do I have to go to this battlefield? Can you just like sniff it or something?"

My lips tug sideways as Virgil exhales heavily, his mask undulating from the air as he kicks Earl's legs out from underneath him. Then, before the man can even shout in surprise, Virgil places him on his shoulder.

"What do you think I am? A dog? No one has a nose that good."

As he says that, Earl flips around and attempts to escape Virgil's grasp, only for their scuffle to wake up Dakota. The oversized fox crawls out of the train and follows behind the quarreling two.

"You think Dakota could discern if it was human or demon?"

The two stop at my question, and Virgil shrug.

"Dunno. He might be able to. He's met demons before, right? Other than just Hura. I imagine there has to be a pretty big sample size for one to discern them by smell alone."

I raise my shoulders as well from my uncertain mind.

"Not sure. I remember Edmund saying he could determine people on their smell alone and their species, and Dakota is similar in Sigil to him."

Virgil shakes his head as he steps forward, darkness cladding his form and obscuring his voice.

"Perhaps. He should come then in case Earl's skill doesn't work. Alright, let's go!"

Then, he breaks off into a run, following the train tracks backward. I glance down at Dakota as the fox peers up at me with a sneeze.

"C'mon, boy!"

And then, I follow Virgil through the forest, catching up to him quickly as he's weighed down by Earl and whatever random shit he's carrying. Probably explosives.

Definitely explosives.

****************************

I kneel beside a fallen man; my heart only weighed slightly with the death of these many men and women. They were from the Estates, after all. I only have pity for the Damned forced into this whole mess. As I gently roll his body over, my eyes meet his face, frozen in a haunting expression of shock, awe, and astonishment. The sight is both pathetic and surprising, a confusing detail for what's occurred here. Did they know who attacked them? Or was it an ambush?

His eyes stare wide open as if trying to comprehend the suddenness of his demise. The life that once filled those eyes is now gone, leaving only an empty gaze. I have little empathy for this Estatesman, his shoulder emblem denoting his family. Still, I wonder what he saw, what he experienced in those final moments before the darkness claimed him.

Shaking my head, I shift my focus to the wound that took his life as Virgil and Earl search for a man suitable for Earl's skill. They want to find someone who likely died last and saw the entire battle for more information. Yet this wound I'm looking at is terrible. It's a devastating sight. The battlefield is scattered with other fallen soldiers, but I don't move onward after flipping over his form. The precision and skill of the attacker are simply far too intriguing. It looks like something Johnny would have done with his swordsmanship or Virgil and his daggers.

The slash is clean and precise, a clear gaze into the slasher's skill. The bones in the man's arm that attempted to defend him are sliced perfectly. It's not just a display of brute strength; it's a calculated strike, executed with deadly accuracy. I run my finger over the bone and feel the smoothness. Damn... that's the impressive part. Is there anyone this good with a blade? Despite being outnumbered one to a hundred, they still have the capability to fight like this?

The angle of the slash tells a story of its own. It wasn't a wild swing in the heat of battle; it was a deliberate and measured strike, one that aimed for maximum impact. The attacker knew exactly where to strike to incapacitate their target swiftly and efficiently, as from the arm that was cleanly removed from the body, the blade followed and severed the heart hidden in the ribs in twain, ending the man instantly.

I carefully inspect the body, looking for any other clues that might reveal the identity of the attacker. However, the chaos of the battlefield makes it difficult to discern any specific details. It takes me a moment to find the man's nearby hand, previously severed from his body as he tried to defend himself against the fatal blow.

As I do so, I realize how many of the weapons that should be here are missing, as in the man's removed arm is a broken blade. Guess whoever looted this didn't want the ruined gear.

Whistling to myself, I return to my feet from my kneel and amble over to Virgil and Earl, who are pointing to the man cut in half, each side missing large portions of his body.

"Whoever did this was crazy good with their sword. They weren't just strong or fast, but skilled."

Virgil nods to my words and gives some thoughts of his own as he encourages Earl.

"Hmm... powerful and skilled with the blade. Not many of those exist in the world, barring the Nahullo. For humans, we have Ed Summers and Lennon Hull. Maddox and Clarence use swords, too, but I wouldn't call them exceptionally skilled. For demons, there is Nwyn, the Evernighted Edge, and Tlen, the Boiling Boil. Pygmies... don't really have any swordsmen, and almost every Councilmember can use a blade to Johnny's level, with most far higher. If any of those figures are this far in the Territories, though, we have some serious problems. Anyway, use your skill while we think, Earl. You should be able to clear up any confusion."

Earl grunts to Virgil as he sits beside one half of the dead man while Dakota sniffs the other half. The genius then uses his skill by placing both hands on the corpse. And as he does, I notice a glimmer of magenta from within the other half of the corpse, the one Dakota is sniffing. I'm momentarily stunned by the color, as it means this man was an Angel that was cut in half like this. Who was he? A human Angel I don't recognize from a poster? Yet before I can react, Dakota moves.

"Hey! Boy! Don-"

The color shatters as Virgil and I watch Dakota crunch an Arca of an eyeball with his teeth. Then, my jaw drops as he grows more significant in my sight, his chains shifting to a darker color, from yellow to green. From a large dog, he becomes the size of a small bear, his fur still reddish-orange. Yet, the edge of his tail grows from light grey to a much darker shade. A Nightowl, perhaps?

But before either of us can react to Dakota's change and waste of such a valuable weapon, Earl screams with profound fear, the man kicking his way back from the corpse, using even his frail arms to escape an invisible danger. He even retrieves his Coil, which managed to be put back together for a few more shots by his scavenging for resources in the train.

I fall to my knees and grab his shoulders as I try to calm him down.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's alright. What happened? Are you okay?"

Earl's eyes, widened to the limit, are flickering all over as a deep breath leaves his chest.

"I saw a monster... it moved so fast the man could barely see it. It tore through every person here like they were nothing, and a single glancing blow was enough to kill them. It's like he knows all the weaknesses in a body. Some he stabbed in the leg, for them to only bleed out seconds later. Others, he tripped and decapitated as they captured their balances. He was... a whirlwind of blades. A whirlwind with one blade."

The description is bizarre but detailed, as usual, from Earl. Virgil crouches beside me and presses for more information.

"A monster? What kind? Was it a Kleh'Ah? Owl-like body and feather-like swords for arms?"

Earl vehemently twists his head as he puts his hands on his knees to get up. Then, he drops a bomb of knowledge.

"No... it was a man. He came into the battle with a broken blade and simply picked up another. It was... it was... it was Lennon Hull. I remember his face from Blackreach. But... he seemed far more bloodthirsty, like something happened to pull out the monster inside."

His words hang in the air as the three of us stand and look at the dead body that was ruined, split into halves, and left to rot. Then, our visions shift to the entire hundred Sigiled that he slayed, many of whom were powerful enough to be called Majors or Colonels, one even a General, the same status as Marshall.

A monster indeed.