From atop a building near the town square and the battle within the yard, I see Earl forced to the ground underneath the boot of some Hunter. Instantly, I go to move toward him and jump off the building, but Primrose, the woman who transported me to the top of the building, stops me with her arm.

"Relax, Wyatt. We have priorities, and so do the Hunters. They won't kill your friend, at least not yet. He's too valuable. Gamblers are rare, very rare. Even more so for those who get it as a first Sigil, it's thought that only demons can have the Sigil after all. They're likely to keep him alive until someone in their squad or someone who can pay enough is ready to advance. Rebels can be used in any way, and having them be a Sigil Storage is allowed."

Primrose then points at Johnny, struggling to survive against the onslaught.

"Johnny, on the other hand, needs us right now. Despite how it might look to you, he's struggling. The man might be the greatest fighter I've ever met, but he's not invincible. No one is. To help him, we must kill the squad's Occultist and Mentalist; those two are the most dangerous. The man with the serrated dagger below us is the Occultist, or at least a variant, and the Mentalist is the woman across the way with the wool hat.

You get the Occultist; I'll get the Mentalist."

Primrose points out the two targets as my mind continues to dwell on the bit about rare Sigils. Hunters would keep humans like cattle until someone was ready to harvest them. It makes me sick. Not just that, why the hell is Earl here?! I need some more answers right now.

"Why is Earl here? Do all Hunters do that to people?"

The woman with the pink scarf and heavy makeup looks at me, annoyed, but quickly answers so that we can move on.

"Your friend caught the eye of Johnny as well; his Sigil is exceedingly rare and valuable even for how weak it currently is. The coming break is also likely to present him opportunity to rise higher. No one would ever turn down someone who can affect chance.

And, no. Only the highest or most insane people, and this squad is relatively high up there or at least has many Estate members within. The Vengeance Squad is like the Hunter's rabid dogs that they control. Now focus. Are you ready? Johnny is running out of time, runt."

Hearing that Earl is so helpful makes me a bit happy, but my worry for him only grows. However, I push down that worry for now, for it will only make me fight worse. And when I'm this outgunned, I can't take another subtraction to my chances of survival.

When it comes to the Hunters, her knowledge makes my heart feel a little bit better that the people I looked up to my whole life aren't all monsters. But I need a little more knowledge of the plan; I don't want to jump into this without a way out.

"What happens after we kill our targets?"

I see Primrose snarl and bark an answer amidst gunshots from the Gunfighter's Colt.

"Uhhgg! We move on to the nearest and try not to die; there are only two 5th Sigils, and one of them is the Occultist below, which should be very vulnerable in close quarters; not all who possess the Sigil can fight with the Bloodhound's kind of expertise. And I doubt we will have to fight a 6th Sigil today either, so it should be fine. Because if enough die, Frederick, the present Colonel, will likely just escape; the man is known for his speed, after all."

Nodding to her answer, I prepare for combat, twirling my dagger into a comfortable grip as I approach the edge of the building and look down at the Occultist, a man in a bloodied robe and hood with a serrated dagger who is about fifteen feet or so away from the building. As I do so, I hear Primrose whirl with acidic clouds and disappear from my peripheral, leaving simple words.

"Don't die, kid. We're gonna need everyone we got for what's coming."

I don't get the chance to ask her what's coming as I see her cloud swiftly travel over to the other side of the square and coalesce into her female form in the air, falling to the Mentalist. Not wanting to fall behind or miss my chance, I jump off the building with a combined burst of Stealth and Adrenaline Surge, bringing me terribly close to the edge. At this point, it's all but guaranteed. I'm going to need that Concoction pronto.

But I have been across the edge two times now. I can kind of feel it now, the small line between total system failure and survival. The Edge… There truly is no way to explain it. Only those who have stepped over it, I feel, could understand me.

And so, with tiptoes teetering over the abyss, I silently vault down into another one.

With my increased strength, I leap off the top of the building, out about fifteen feet toward the Occultist, as he draws blood once more with a circle to heal his allies. Just before I land on him with my daggers, though, a yell comes from beside me from the man who has the boot on top of Earl. I have no clue how he noticed me, though.

"Andrew! Above!"

The Occultist, who I assume is named Andrew, immediately stops his circle drawing and turns around while dodging to the side. He escapes most of my ambush with this timely warning and evasion, but not all of it.

I tag him on the side with the serpentine dagger in my right hand and partially break my fall with him and the bloody dirt below. Because of how I fall onto him, the blade rips entirely through his torso, leaving heaps of blood falling to the ground. Blood that rapidly streams back to him over the land.

The fall also hurts me quite a bit as I feel several bones in my feet, legs, and knees crack, but I ignore it as I immediately press onto the Occultist, unwilling to lose my advantage. I know these people can use blood to fuel their Ether or even as a medium to fight with it, like Edmund, so the more wounded they are, the more dangerous they are.

As I charge at him, though, two more Hunters come and join to protect him, one is the man who had a boot on top of Earl, who is now watching me with wide eyes, and the other is a woman with glowing fingers, both of whom are 4th Sigileds. Outgunned as usual.

The woman with the glowing fingers tries to intercept me from Andrew, the Occultist, but I go around her and still hit him with a flick of my boot, bringing the stiletto dagger I found up to my hand. Then, as the woman scratches at me with her fingers fueled with Ether, I continue attacking my target with another flick, this time from my hand.

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The stiletto dagger flies straight at the heavily bleeding and slow-moving Occultist, hitting him square in the back. The wound makes even more blood fall from the man, but I cannot finish him off as the woman scratches at me, and the Ether from her nails expands for her hands and leaves massive gashes along my torso, enough to see my organs inside.

I flinch in pain but ever so slightly increase the flow of Adrenaline Surge to compensate. Shifting the feet just a bit more over the Edge.

Unable to press forward, I retreat, but this is also a bad call as where I backstep toward is the other Hunter.

I'm surrounded.

Looking back and forth rapidly as the two approach, the woman with deadly claws and the man whose abilities I have no idea of, I hesitate, unsure of what to do. Should I advance? Or should I run over to Primrose? I begin to consider going to the poisonous woman. Still, my decision is made for me, the distraction of both Primrose and me allowing Johnny to kill some Hunters.

In the corner of my eye, I see a man speeding around so fast that only his afterimage is seen; he can even dodge the bullets from Johhny's Colt by predicting the shots. This man, however, get's distracted by seeing his team getting attacked, the Mentalist even getting killed by Primrose.

And this time of distraction, just before I am flanked and attacked from the front and back, six rounds fire out from Johnny's revolver. Four of them hit one of the men pressing Johnny the most with Frederick, the 6th Sigil, and the other two hit the Occultist in the head, killing him instantly.

Cries ring out from the woman in front of me as she turns to check on Andrew's condition, and I take advantage, the instincts within me taking over despite my wound. Trusting that the Bloody Palm will keep me alive, I dash toward her.

I reach right in front of her before she even reacts. The man who died must a been someone she cared for to be so surprised. I feel a bit of sorrow for her loss before hardening my resolve. They chose to come here. And I don't have much choice other than fight them. Even if I did, from what I've learned, I think I would fight them anyway.

The woman sidesteps the first dagger that I send at her, pushing me to the side, but I counter with the other by simply throwing it directly at her mid-deflection. Unable to catch a flying dagger and too close to dodge, it lands square in her chest, near her heart.

Blood sputters from her wound as she retaliates with a claw that runs from the back of my right shoulder to my ass, opening me up to my spine. The pain spikes even further, piercing through the haze of Adrenaline Surge. With a pained grunt, I fall to the ground expecting the Bloody Palm to heal me, but it doesn't.

I feel tiny tendrils of Ether reach out from it before reaching my body that teeters on the Edge before retreating. It appears I'm too close to acute Ether saturation for the Bloody Palm to heal me without pushing me over.

Fuck. It won't heal me unless there is enough room for its Ether, or if I already go over the Edge, then it will do what it can to keep me together like usual. Fuck. I know that I was hoping to get the fight over with before Virgil or Vernon returned, but oh my, do I wish they were here with the Concoction right now.

With a curse and a pained grunt, I push myself to my feet as I hear two pairs of footsteps surround me. I take a quick glance at both people that press toward me; the woman's hands which act more like razor-sharp claws, glow even more with dangerous Ether, while the man's entire body glows with vibrant red Ether.

Careful of both, I step so that I am at least partially facing them. Easily visible Ether is always dangerous, signs of either powerful Braided-Strand Ether or Steel-Strand Ether. Both of which are beyond my knowledge. And seeing as both individuals possess 4th Sigils, I bet they are using Steel-Strand.

At this point, I just have to hope that I can hold on until either the duo of brothers arrives to save me or that Johnny and Primrose can clear out the rest of them in time.

Luckily for me, though, the dagger I planted into the woman's chest still leaks a large amount of blood, making her just as careful as me. The man, however, is the opposite, and he immediately rushes me once he gets close enough, ignoring the woman's warning with a grunt of an answer.

"He's tricky. Watch out, Oliver."

"I know."

Only when he gets up close to me and rears back his fist for a deadly punch do I notice that the man has two brass knuckles on his fists, the left that says P HO R E in big letters and the right that says S I G H T. The knuckles give me a small indication of his abilities, but not much truly gleams from them as they barrel toward me at a blistering pace.

I retreat once more, even closer to the building that I jumped off of, nearing the structure's wall, before drawing my revolver and firing it at him he strikes at me. As I raise the gun, however, the man sidesteps, reveals his strike to be a feint, and retaliates with a debilitating sweeping kick that allows him to entirely dodge the bullet from my gun.

As I feel the bones in my calf shatter and I slam sideways into the ground from the mighty kick, I realize how the man, Oliver, noticed me. He must have a Sigil related to foresight or extrasensory capabilities, like Augur or maybe even Comanche. The man predicted me pulling out my revolver and responded accordingly.

However, I have to quickly break out of my thoughts because the man does not give up after just one strike. He bursts down and joins me on the ground with a downward punch that I barely roll past. The force of the strike, however, sends sand, dirt, and mud flying everywhere, not enough to cloud vision but enough to disorient.

Rolling away from the man some more, just trying to escape his deadly strikes, I fire the other five shots in my revolver at him. I don't honestly expect the bullets to kill him or even wound him seriously, but how he responds to the bullets demoralizes me. A quick shrug, body turn, arm contortion, and bent neck allow him to dodge all five bullets as if he knows exactly where they would land.

Damn, predictors. I think I already found my new most hated Sigil type. Previously it was illusionists, for obvious reasons, but this is so fucking frustrating.

I kick backward even more with my good leg, but I quickly reach the wall of the building I jumped off of half a minute ago. The door is just a few feet to my right, and I stretch for it, pushing the unlocked door open. Inside what I thought was a house is what instead appears to be a brothel, only exempt of all the workers.

The lack of people, however, is only helpful as I see a shotgun placed behind the counter on the wall, obviously to threaten unruly or unwanted visitors. As fast as I can, I crawl toward the gun, but before I even reach the counter, I feel a hand wrap around my ankle like an iron vice.

Instantly, I am pulled straight out of the house and back into the square as I meet a boot to the chest that sends me rolling several feet away. Blood sputters out of my mouth as I cough for air, and I hear the man who just dragged me out laugh.

"See Rebecca? Isn't it nice to take your anger out on these rebels? I mean, look at just how insane this one is. It's just like beating a dog with rabies. You shouldn't feel bad, not at all. In fact, you should be happy doing it; I mean, did you see what he did to Andrew? The man hadn't even hurt anyone, and he was brutally murdered. Don't you want revenge?"

I turn to the voice and see the man, Oliver, smiling with open arms toward Rebecca, the woman with the dangerous claws who, I only now notice, has tears streaming down her face. Feeling a bit bad and trying to buy myself some time in conjunction, I try to speak, but all that comes out from my torn-up, crushed chest is spouts of bloody phlegm.

The man notices my attempt, though, and walks over amidst the gunfire that streams out from Johnny and kneels down to look at me.

"I think he's trying to say something, what do you think, 'Becca?"

I see the woman standing behind the man, still bleeding, grimacing in disgust at his actions.

"Just kill the kid, Oliver. Don't torture him. We need to help the Colonel; the Gunfighter is no slouch."

Oliver scoffs as he moves closer to me, close enough for me to attack. I choose not to even inhale to empower this attack; an unoxygenated me will have to do.

"Yeah, and neither is Frederick. Hey, kid, what–"

In the middle of his sentence, I strike out with the serpentine dagger like a viper, quick, clean, and emotionless. But the man predicts that I would slice across his chest with the blade, and he dodges. So, I immediately attempt to retreat, but the man responds by grabbing me by the throat and lifting me into the air, his strength much higher than it should be, presumably enhanced by Ether.

"Ah! I recognize you now; you're that Wendigo kid that killed the Bloodhound. The old man must have loved you quite a lot to die to you. I heard he always was a sucker for his students. It was probably easy to stab him in the back. Eh, whatever; I'll go help Frederick now, I guess. You're too wounded to be any fun. Either finish him off, Rebecca, or tie him up. I don't care."

After he discards me verbally, the man throws me to the woman, and I land roughly at her feet. She looks down with grief, anger, sadness, and a hundred other emotions I can't decipher. But before I can manage to move my heavily wounded body, one whose healing I've taken for granted by the Bloody Palm, she breaks out of her hesitation and, with a burst of rage, slices open my throat using her hands clawed of Ether. Then she walks away toward the other fight with Johnny to help her commander.

This wound is the one that seals the deal. The two open gashes on my chest and back were only significant injuries, but they weren't life-threatening. And neither was the kick to the chest; the hits were all just stunning and drew out more strength from me than I had to give.

But the throat slash? This one is a mortal wound. I can rapidly feel the focus in my mind fading, the air unable to reach my brain from my heart. But there is one thing that could reach my brain, Ether.

The woman tried to put me down with quick mercy, but she made one mistake.

She didn't sever my windpipe.

And so, sputtering blood from my mouth and carotid, I take one large gasp of Ether and air. Ether all around within a hundred feet or so swirls directly into me, filling my body that teetered on the Edge of Ether saturation and pushing it far, far beyond it.

Hopefully, the brothers get here soon.