Sputtering a mouthful of blood from the blood in my lungs, I force myself to twist over and gaze at Edward as he readies his longsword to stab toward my head. I notice his brows furrow before he penetrates the blade forward, seeking to end my life.

Fast, the crimson heads for my eyes, growing brighter and more luminous in the midday sun. As it nears, I feel time slow and immediately realize what's happening. Instinctively, I activated Liberation. I don't think it's pretty what Edward is aiming for here, but it's close.

Very close. He mentioned that many people learn rudimentary forms of Instinctive Ether from their many life-and-death battles, gradually gaining faster and faster reaction speeds without actually growing any quicker at all. I reckon the reason why I've never felt it before is because I've never been pushed into a wall without someone to aid me. Before the Bloody Palm, it was Edmund. And since the artifact has joined me, it's always been there, even if treacherous.

The only exception was that very first battle after Edmund died with the Hunters. And even then... was the act that gave me my Absolution not instinctive? I felt a slight chance of survival, and without even truly deciding, I lept onto it. And when I gained my second Absolution, Blodwyn was doing everything it could already to save me, pushed to the brink.

Looking forward, the blade of blood shifts toward me as if lodged within ice, taking an incredibly long time to my perspective to even move an inch. But I don't know what to do.

Do I just die?

Liberation worked, yet I'm almost sure that was a reaction of mine in not wanting to die, and now that I have time to think, I'm sure it was. That was not Instinctive Ether; that was simply a quick reaction.

So then what?

"Are you willing to die for this skill?"

Edward's words echo in my mind like those of Edmund's or Marshall's, the tones impossible to ignore. Like father like son, I suppose. Do I truly need to accept death like he said?

A single droplet of blood bulges from the bottom of the blade, and as it does, my eyes are drawn to it. Tiny figments of my imagination bloom as I watch the droplet grow slightly as if it's trying to expunge itself from the Claymore. At first, it reminds me of a growing mountain, but a face rapidly forms from it, one of a female wraith with skeletal features and a harried look. That of a tortured soul. That of Death.

My focus shifts back to Edward. His eyes are the same. That determination. He will kill me if I don't do something.

But I can't do anything.

An Arbalest won't save me. What can I possibly do?

Nothing.

The blade is surging for my eye. No matter how I twist my head, I die. I can't kick his leg out with my blasted spine. I doubt grabbing the blade will work as my hand isn't fast enough, and I can't form an Ironbound in time to deflect it.

I wish I used more skills. Perhaps I could have—

No. I wanted this. This was going to happen regardless of how I fought. Sure, I was a bit easygoing at the start, not preparing with a few Ironbound or Arbalests in case of emergency, but they would have only prolonged this.

Edward would have fucking destroyed Sequester. Sure, the windy swordsman would put up a good fight, but I'm confident the Bloodhound's son would walk away without a limp.

Internally sighing, I relent.

If I need to accept death, then I will.

I'm stubborn. I know that. But sometimes faith in oneself is the only way forward.

I shift my mind to gradually release Liberation, but cursing myself, I drop it instantly. As I do so, I relax my body, allowing the hidden portions of my mind and soul to shine. I'm placing a lot of trust in Edward's guidance with this, but in truth, that trust is given to Edmund. He is the man who came up with this, after all. I can only imagine how he invented it.

The dusty ground meets my back with a thud as I fully relent, and the glint of a blade made of liquid and flowing blood nears. In that split second, alarm courses through me, and I let it rise.

The blade nears my eye, a surreal river of crimson poised to pierce through flesh and bone.

As the blade descends, entering the very front of my right eye, a chilling glint in the sunlight, my body reacts before my mind fully comprehends. Pain spikes so highly that all I feel is a jolt before it fades as my skin crawls from the object joining my vision. What I've been waiting for happens as I shut off my mind and allow the rest to go to work. My muscles tense, coiled springs ready to launch into action. My lungs gasp for air, and something within me stirs. Ether is siphoned into my chest, even as the blade enters my eye.

The battle for my life hangs in a precarious balance, and I can almost feel the blade's edge brushing against the delicate barrier between existence and oblivion. Time stretches thin, and I hover on the precipice of death itself for a moment. I can almost feel her reaching out for me, Death. The Pale Lady is close. I can feel it. But the Mother Below isn't. Odd.

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In an instant, my awareness expands, as if I'm no longer confined to the boundaries of my skin. Without even attempting to, I draw in a breath that is more than just oxygen—it's more than simply a breath. Ether enters through my skin, my throat, and my eyes. My senses heighten, and the world, for a moment, transforms into swirling translucent Ether.

As the blade enters an inch into my eye, a silent scream echoes within me.

For an infinitesimally small amount of time, all things go white, including the piercing edge in my pupil. My senses expand beyond the confines of my body, transcending flesh and bone. I can taste the Ether in my lungs, the substance passing by my tongue.

It tastes sweet—like that of a cherry candy.

I like it. I love it.

I feel a slight connection grow as my Ether moves without my ask, without my ponder. It simply moves as it needs to in order to preserve my life. Is this the pinnacle of Ether manipulation? Perhaps.

My body becomes a conduit, a prison for Ether, as all the substance in the surroundings comes to me. The blade meets resistance, and for an instant, the air crackles with tension as mist fumes off the edge.

But before the bloody Claymore enters my brain and slays me, the blade's liquid form quivers, its malevolence challenged by a blooming Power. The flesh within my eye socket siphons the Ether away from the blade like any other breath of mine. The energy within it weakens, fractured, and frayed as the Claymore shrinks to a third of its standard length. Immediately, I feel that connection with my Ether fade to a diminutive tether, one that hardly touches the same.

Impressive that it didn't entirely dissipate, but I suppose that's Edmund's son. He can partially negate even my Absolution.

A slow laugh comes from the man opposite me as he rears back his blade, flicking it around his wrist as if to test the lesser weight.

"You sure took that seriously, kid. You really thought I was gon' kill you?"

The blade begins to dissipate, thinning like mist before the morning sun. And just like that, the danger is gone, replaced by the sound of my labored breath and the pounding of my heart. But as the sounds of my innards and my pooling blood join the dirt, anger rises while I see him through only one iris.

Shifting to scream at Edward, I stop halfway and fall, coughing out more blood as I finally begin to feel the pain. The darkness on my right is abnormal, and my missing eye is hard to ignore as Edward approaches me and crouches. Unable to speak or curse him, I let the asshole speak his piece.

"I was never going to kill you. Just had to make you think I would. Edmund did the same to me. But we got it out of you, even if only a little. It seemed you relied on that artifact of yours too much in dire circumstances and never truly on yourself. Now, don't worry about that eye or your back. I got a gal that'll fix you right up. Just don't bleed out before I get back. Couldn't let her out here otherwise... she'd stop me before we ever started."

Edward taps me on the head before nodding at me and disappearing into a cloud of dust as he moves with such speed I can hardly follow at my best. At my worst, with a single eye, he's simply a blur.

And so, I lie there, a mixture of awe and exhaustion, the unfeeling and instinctual connection to my Ether holding despite the passing seconds. It seems that the slight link will stay. It's odd. Is this what Edward and Edmund feel like?

The world comes back into focus, the vivid blue of the sky and the rustle of the grass beneath me. I wait for only a few more seconds before the pounding of footsteps draws my pained attention. Looking up to see behind my prone form, I see a woman running past Edward toward me. Her form radiates a dark blue. A peaceful blue.

"Are you two crazy?! I thought you said that you'd never teach anyone this shit!? After all your complaints of your father, why?!"

The woman whose name I don't even know shouts at Edward as she curves brilliant braids of Ether in her hands before applying them to my wounds, pulling the flesh and bone back together. It reminds me of the Bloody Palm, only more intricate and less gruesome.

Edward's response is simple as he steps beside us, gazing down with a smile at me.

"I had to, Dawn. Our old man needs us at our best."

She glances away from me, almost unbelieving, before returning to focus on my injuries.

"Your bests? You blinded him! And you almost killed him!? How is this your bests?! If Johnny learns of this...!"

Her words finally make Edward pivot away, as if embarrassed, but I manage out a few words.

"It's okay. I do this often."

The doctor, medic, or whatever she is stares into my lingering eye before cursing.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear from you. Regardless of your feelings, we cannot handle another fight between forces. Edward, you need to go to Johnny right now and apologize!"

The swordsman beside me sighs and holds his hand to his face before shaking his head.

"It's fine, Dawn. Really. I know you get anxious about this stuff, but it is. And, I was never going to kill him, as I would always stop at the eye. He's way more gullible than I am. My father had to actually go for the kill. The sensation of a blade in your brain is quite different from the eye."

His words frustrate me that I'm more effortless to trick than he, but at the same time, I feel some relief. He wasn't going to kill me.

And, I did it. I learned Instinctive Ether. The next step is Shiver. Well... the next step is to truly use that form of Ether.

Dawn continues to patch me up, focusing on the deadly wounds, and in just ten minutes after listening to her and Edward argue about some political thing, I can stand again.

And when I do, the lady in sandy garbs holds her hands to my face gingerly from her short height.

"Stay still, dear. I don't want anyone getting mad at us for this. I need to fix your eye up just right. And about your arm..."

Forcing back the urge to shake my head, I dismiss her worries.

"I know. It's not coming back. I have a replacement, though, so it's fine."

She gives me an odd look before continuing her work. Edward watches from a few feet away with his arms crossed. A weird crunching noise fills my skull before I abruptly see again. And when I do, the lights are all so vibrant around; Dawn steps back, arranging her hands behind her back.

"Well, there you are. It should be all better now. If you have any worries, please contact me for help. And if Edward pushes you too hard, come too. He's just like his father, hardasses willing to die for anything they believe in."

Her tone is odd, and based on her outward appearance and age, I don't think she is old enough to be acquaintances with Edmund.

"Did you know Edmund?"

Dawn seems closer to Edward in age, if not really close to him. And my thoughts are quickly proven true.

"Yes, yes, I did. My parents were friends of his, and I lived near the Dudley Ranch when I was young. Grew up alongside this fool beside me. We've kept in contact ever since the tragedy that befell his siblings, and eventually, he gave me this lil' thing."

Dawn holds up her hand, presenting a glimmering jewel to me. It sparkles brilliantly in the sunlight, shimmering amazingly. I've never seen anything like it other than the Ether formed into crystals at the Crossroads. Wow.

"You're married?"

"Yup. As of last year. If not for me, I'd reckon Edward's whole operation here would be toast, too."

Dawn smiles knowingly while staring at Edward, prompting a short laugh from me while the man shakes his head. He lets me laugh for a moment before shooing his wife away.

"Alright, Dawn. You really don't have to worry. It'll be fine. He's a Graves. The kid just needs some final trainin' from a Dudley."

The wife of the Bloodied Beast glances at me through the corner of her eye as if questioning my safety, and I nod. Only then does she step away, heading toward the building behind me they must live in together.

"Fine. If anyone gets hurt, come to me."

Edward nods to her as she leaves before focusing on me, only bothering to give her a quick hug as she goes.

"Now. I saw that stint you had at the end there. My father called that Breathing. It's odd. Truly. He named things as he saw them, not caring for how much sense it made. He said that in the moment—"

"It feels like you are breathing Ether."

I finish Edward's words as the man nods along with me, showing his agreement.

"Yes. Exactly that. But sadly, that state doesn't last, and yours was more... literal. I assume it's because of that skill you used earlier that did something similar. I reckon the lasting part is something we could strive for eventually and one that someone like Vincent Harvey might already have. But it's a long way away. For us, we have to settle with our Ether moving before we do in planned circuits, not new and intricate developments."

The man steps away from me, entering the depths of his training field, and spreads his arms wide.

"Now, onto the fun part. Actually learning Shiver. Are you ready?"

I nod, eager to grow more, even after the previous stint. But when I step up, his face seems a bit odd.

"Of course. I've made it this far."

"Good. Because... I feel a little bad about having to do this."

Wha—