We ride the Nightmares, the monstrous oversized horses covered in pitch-black hair that reflects zero light, for around three to four hours before we reach Harmony Town. The deserted town that was overrun and destroyed by ghosts remains precisely how we left it.
One burnt-down building, bullet holes in just about every structure, and debris thrown haphazardly from the struggle against the horde of Bakwas. Once we enter the town, I slide off the Nightmare to reach the ground, but my exhaustion makes me miss a step and fall hard.
The Nightmare's back is close to eight feet off the ground, so the height and subsequent long fall make a crack come from the ankle I fall on. Numb pain touches upon my mind as I force myself to get back up from falling; the headache of overusing Ether prevents me from truly feeling much, however. One kind of pain can numb another.
With a curse, I walk around Harmony Town to find the wagon, but Vernon quickly stops me and takes from me the Ghosteye, the artifact that keeps the Nightmares in line. The loss of my Ether being sent into it to command the spirits that dwell within makes the Nightmares shake and begin to break out of their control.
Vernon looks at them momentarily with the Ghosteye pointing toward them before they quickly calm down and stop moving. The man must have used it in my place to keep the Nightmares tame. Shortly after, he looks at me from head to toe and hands me a piece of hard candy.
"Relax, Wyatt. I'll hold onto the Nightmares for a little bit. We don't need to be in such a hurry. We got the horses after all; We'll make it to Rustbank with time to spare. Virgil is searching for the wagon right now; let's just chill. Everything will be fine."
My irritability and pounding headache that sends waves through my vision and the newly damaged ankle makes me lash out at the man who's only trying to help. I instantly regret speaking the second the words leave my mouth. I hate the vulnerability and tone of my voice, but I can't stop talking until I finish my rant.
"You two have plenty of time. I'm on a countdown, a final one. The next time I drop this Daydream is the last, I can feel it, and it's nearing. I can't keep it up much longer. I'm running out of steam. And there won't be another chance; the Bloody Palm will win. I don't have my Metaphor answered, so I'm just as likely to die if I advance, which would be the only way to save me. So, don't talk to me like that. Not everything will be fine. I have friends who think I'm a monster, and, likely, I'll never see them again to change their minds. Everything is a shitshow. Just one tragedy after another without stopping."
Vernon simply looks at me for a moment before his face turns downcast. It seems he has no answer or reply to what I had to say, so we just stand for several minutes in awkward silence.
The man, who is only a few years older than me, merely fiddles with the glassy eye that is the Ghosteye which is currently focused on the Nightmares. I spend the moments of silence concentrating on my ankle, feeling the Bloody Palm heal the body that is soon to be its.
I just wish I had more time. But from what I've heard, I have already held out against the Bloody Palm for an impossible amount of time despite the massive gap of power between the two of us. If only–
My thoughts are interrupted by Vernon abruptly turning to me and asking me a question.
"You said that the issue is you releasing your Daydream skill, right?"
Frustrated but still feeling bad for how I went off at him just a few minutes prior, I reply.
"Yeah."
The man looks at the glassy eye in his hands before proposing a solution. One just as impossible as flying.
'What if you never released the skill? Would that fix it?"
I think about it for just a few moments. It is plausible. The Bloody Palm only reaches the inner parts of my mind when my Daydream is not fighting against it, building that fortress within my mind. Only small indecipherable murmurs surpass me when the skill is active, and these I can completely ignore.
But there is a massive, glaring problem, which I know best because this has been my exact strategy so far. Keeping the skill up forever is not a solution because it is impossible. Slowly I will run out of Ether, and while Daydream costs very little at a time, after many hours or days of it being active, I begin to feel like I'm about to die from exhaustion, and the saturation of Ether in my body nears its limits.
Still a bit annoyed but thankful for him wanting to help, I point out the issues to him.
"Wouldn't work. It's what I've been doing this whole time, but eventually, I run out of steam. Ether builds up slowly, and I die when it reaches its crescendo. Nothing can change that besides advancing, which should give me more resistance to Ether."
Vernon takes a moment to take in my words before opening his mouth and saying something just as insane as his first suggestion.
"That's not true. Remember when you took the Concoction? That cleared out all of the Ether in your body, domestic and foreign. Taking another would reset your timer, no?"
I look at the man as if he is mad, utterly, utterly mad. He has never been through that torture. I hate very few things in this world, but the Concoction is definitely one of them. The pain of having magma flowing through your veins and boiling all the Ether within you is unimaginable.
Taking a Concoction to live would always be my final choice. Only after every other avenue is crossed out would I do that again. I take a sigh as I realize this is the exact scenario. There are no other choices besides taking a Concoction.
I can't advance. I'm not ready yet. If I don't answer the Metaphor, I will likely go insane and die anyway during my advance. At the very least, it's nice I don't have to worry about waiting for my resilience to Ether to rise over time to meet the requirements for advancement; the Philosopher Sigil just does that immediately for me.
But still, too many factors keep me locked up on the execution block. Even this option with the Concoction won't work, for we have none left. I already used the last one.
"That would theoretically work, Vernon. But the problem is that we don't have another Concoction with us. So, there isn't another for me to take."
Vernon nods at this, finally seeing my point that it's all fucked. The only thing I have left to do is struggle until I fall. There is always a chance that upon Death's Door, I will prove them all wrong and Absolve myself again. But Virgil said that it will only ever get more challenging after every single Absolution, and I don't think I'm currently capable of defying Mother Below.
As I wallow and pray against a God's will, Vernon speaks up again.
"But we can get another in Rustbank. You just need to hold on until then."
I shake my head at his newest suggestion.
"Even if I could hang on long enough for us to not only find one that someone is willing to sell but also buy it, how will we pay for it? Are they not incredibly expensive?"
Vernon nods but tries to dissuade my worry about the cost.
"It doesn't matter how much it costs, Wyatt. Do you know how rare people who have Absolved themselves are? One in ten thousand, if not a hundred thousand. Do you know how rare people who have Absolved themselves and who did it before the 3rd Sigil are? As for as I know, none, not a single one. And to make it even more special? You're a good man. I've seen it. I don't know why your friends think you're evil, but I'm sure you can change their minds. Even if not with words, your actions certainly will."
The man pauses for a second, his eyes flickering toward his brother.
"Virgil told me this while you were resting within the Amikuk den, Wyatt. You are the most talented fighter he's ever seen. You have the grit to ignore any injury, trauma, or slight against you in favor of victory. You have unheard-of fighting instincts despite never genuinely being trained. You fight like a wild animal set loose, but in such a way you don't lose your intelligence either. And your will, god, don't even get me started. Anyone else would have fallen into your situation days, if not a week ago when you first acquired that dam artifact."
Vernon points at me, his finger tapping upon my chest to prove his words.
"These types of things are traits that only the most powerful have. Qualities that people like the Unyielding Wall have. He doesn't know why you have such fierce instincts, such immense talent in fighting, or such firm will to hold against Artifiction for so long, but he did know one thing. That if you live long enough, you will most certainly become a legend."
Vernon kicks some sand as he continues, his words leaving behind an impact.
"The vast majority of the most talented and ingenious humans die long before they can truly shine, Wyatt. If Virgil and I can prevent one such person from being snuffed out before they blaze? Then we will do everything we can to make sure they live.
It's our duty as humans. Too much inner strife and turmoil affect us, preventing us from genuinely standing together despite the threats that bare down upon us. The legendary men and women who bear the weight are the only things that keep humanity alive.
The Pillars bear the weight of millions together. The Prime who carries the weight of us all, alone. We believe that one day, you may be able to match them. And even if you can't, you can certainly reach the renown of someone like Johnny."
Vernon's eyes fall to his own hands, the calloused skin twisting under his movement. The man's voice is self-deprecative yet hopeful.
"I'm nowhere near as experienced as Virgil, where he's carried me basically my whole life up until now, but still, I can see how different you are, man. You're keeping up and outdoing people who are an entire Sigil above you, killing monsters that should require full hunting parties like the Bakwa that was here in Harmony Town.
So, don't worry about how much it costs, Wyatt. We got your back because as long as you survive, I'm sure we'll make the money back and so much more. You'd be a much better guardian than either Virgil or me. My brother is tough, but he's a stalker, hunter, and killer through and through. I know he hates watching over me instead of being alone in the wild, but he does it anyway. And me? I'm a supporter, not so much a fighter. But you? You'd make a perfect guardian for anyone. I know it."
His words sink into me for a few minutes and lift my heart. His heartfelt and genuine words make me look at him in a new light. These two brothers, why are they so kind? Is it because they still have a family to fight for?
I look at Vernon and nod my head.
"Thank you, Vernon, that means a lot. I hope I can live up to your and your brother's expectations of me. I don't think I'm all that special, to be honest."
He looks at me and scoffs.
"I know you will. What 2nd Sigiled would be sent to investigate a break on their own and be expected to return? Johnny, the man who sent you, must have also seen your potential, even if you say he treated you incredibly harshly because of the artifact that is now upon you. When we get to Rustbank, Virgil and I will immediately do what we can to acquire you a Concoction, or multiple if we can. Might have to sell the Ghosteye or my Mercy, but it'd be worth it. Allies who you can trust with your life are hard to find. Allies whom you can trust with your families' lives, even more so."
After this, we spend a few minutes in silence once more, but this time it isn't awkward. I merely spend the time digesting the situation ahead of me as I feel the ever-growing pulsing headache enlarge and spike ever so often.
The event that breaks the silence is Virgil walking toward us with a wagon behind him that he is pulling, sand and dirt shifting beneath his feet as he hauls the wagon behind him, obviously using Ether to boost his strength.
Virgil sets it down in front of the Nightmares in the middle of the town's main road then he hollers at us to put our stuff in the wagon and tie the horses up to pull it. Vernon and I share a look before taking our packs, weapons, and other variety of things and throwing them onto the wagon.
Then, Virgil starts swiftly clearing the road using his shadow whips, the skill granted to him from his years as a Nightwhip. While he does so, Vernon and I quickly go through the nearby houses for a final sweep for supplies, bullets, medicine, and even oil or highly flammable objects. Anything that can be helpful against a horde of monsters.
After just thirty minutes or so, all three of us and Dakota, who spent the time sleeping on the wagon, set off. The Nightmares pull the wagon forward with a jolt before rapidly accelerating to an impressive speed that they are able to hold for several hours without tiring.
We travel this way for a few hours before reaching the boneyard full of giant invertebrates and other crawlies. Vernon continues to push the Nightmares forward as Virgil defends the wagon while we move, his corrosive Necrosis swiftly felling any creature under the 4th Sigil and making other 4th Sigileds run.
Thankfully during our mad dash through the boneyard where the Goliaths last lived, we do not encounter any 5th Sigiled monsters and only engage one 4th that Virgil forces away with my help.
From there, we continue this bolt across the Bonedunes with incredible haste. The cold winds of coming winter slap at our faces and make us shiver as we speed past the dunes. It rarely rains in the Bonedunes, so the only sign of winter is the piercing cold and slicing winds that carry it. No snow or ice ever forms unless the temperature descends low enough to freeze the water in the air solid.
Which, from what I heard from Virgil, can happen. Rarely, but it can.
As we trek, we pass by the area where we previously fought the Short Horned Snakes and killed the largest one. At this point, the tiredness within me grows to be too much for me to handle. The headache of the approaching limit of Ether saturation is too obvious and painful to ignore.
So, I lay down to sleep. I retain the Daydream as I do so, knowing that I will still feel tired when I wake, but at least I won't be a prisoner in my own body. I may only recover slightly, but that's better than nothing.
I rest my head beside Dakota's tail in the wagon and use my backpack as a pillow. The bumpy wagon moving far too fast for its own construction that is sure to break makes it hard to sleep.
And what makes it even harder is the exhausted pants of the Nightmares, the monsters being forced to carry us east to Rustbank. They reach my ears and make me feel bad. I know they are monsters, but we are forcing them against their will to do things they would never do.
I can feel the hypocrisy, and I hate it. But I have no other choice at the moment. I just hope that they can hold on like me. Maybe I'll figure out something to do for them. Can Nightmares be tamed? Maybe. I'll have to find out.
My mind drifts to sleep with these thoughts of freeing and giving the horses a life without chains and, at the very least, being companions to people.
What I awake to, however, is very different. I open my eyes to the sound of constant gunfire, explosions, and pained screams. Curses from Vernon and Virgil erupt from beside me as the wagon shifts quickly, and I push myself up to see what's happening despite the headache that still gnaws at me like a furious wolf out for blood.
Before my eyes is Rustbank, the town that we wanted to make it to, apparently, I slept long enough to make it to our destination, but it's currently under attack. For a second, I worry that we are too late as bullets ring out constantly. I worry that the break outpaced us and the demon is leading its horde of monsters into the town and slaying the inhabitants, but my worries are dismissed quickly.
It is the most common enemy of people.
Each other.