Silas and I nod at each other, the threat becoming crystal clear. Dominus needs to die. But... he should be dead. Yet... if he's not, he should be hurt, right? Without waiting a moment, I voice my thoughts, the course of action evident in my eyes.
"We need to chase them—right this instant. Dominus should be dead. After all, I hit him with the Lily, but perhaps the Mother Below saved him somehow? Where do you think he went?"
The undead man beside me kneels closer to the ground, putting his hand against the dried blood. He spends moments scrutinizing it as the flames in his sockets bulge and squirm in intensity. Only after a lapse of silent thinking does he reply.
"The Manipulator likely returned to Raystown, or they ran away entirely. We could catch them wounded if it's the former, but if it's the latter, they're gone."
He turns his head upward to me, his focus leaving the stained grass as the fires in his eyes condense to a fine point.
"But... we need to be fast. Very fast. We might miss our chance if we waste time returning to the group for help. Are you confident?"
Not quite catching his meaning, I ask for clarification.
"Confident in what?"
Silas stands, a coin rolling from his pocket onto his fingers and up his arm. As he speaks, the coin lands in his other hand's palm, and he shows it to me.
"Are you confident in killing it again?"
The gravity of his voice and the heat radiating from his eyes makes me pause.
Am I?
Yes. I killed it after being ambushed and dying. Unhurt, I doubtless end its life in a rematch, which is likely why it made that whole scenario up to kill Alexos and me. I don't know how it survived whatever happened to it, but I can slay it again. It had to do that because it was unsure of defeating me in a battle, right? Dominus had Alexos fight me and came to mop up after we essentially butchered each other.
"Yes. I can do it again."
I reply with as much sincerity as Silas had when he asked the question. The man nods and flips his coin into the air, saying a quick phrase before the coin bursts in mass amounts of Ether.
"Good. I owe you one for saving me while I was illusioned. Go get the bastard, and get me my money. I Wish to go to Raystown."
The coin flames with light as it changes colors from gold to silver, then finally to bronze. Why didn't he simply Wish to find Dominus? Why choose Raystown? The moment these thoughts flow through my mind and likely show on my face, Silas gives me a quick explanation.
"My Wishes cost more depending on the complexity of the statement. If I ask for the Manipulator specifically, I might not have enough money, and the Wish will fail with a backlash. So, I instead ask for a bigger, more straightforward thing to find."
I nod in understanding when the coin stops glowing with Ether. And when it does, the bronze object floats away from Silas, heading west. Silas uses his other to push me forward as it leaves his hand.
"Go on! I'll get Johnny! I don't want to slow you down! Just chase the coin!"
Without waiting for me to confirm that I comprehend what to do, the undead man runs back to where we came from with blistering speed. I simply nod as I speak to myself and Dakota next to me.
"Well, let's get running, boy."
The fox does a high-pitched bark at the coin, making me laugh. And while chuckling at Dakota, I move Ether within my body, pushing myself toward Breakneck. And now that I'm a 5th Sigil, it feels much smoother to use. Of course, I still feel the need for pressure, but it doesn't seem to be as much.
With enough practice, I could indeed condense far more gaseous Ether, even without any of my figments of Madness active. But with a quickly manifested Figment upon my legs from the Bloody Palm, I have plenty enough gaseous Ether for the advanced skill.
My body grows lighter as I squat a bit, shifting into a running position. Dakota does a similar thing as he lowers his body slightly to better dig his claws into the ground. Then, after another moment to push the Ether for Strugglers Defiance into my body, I'm off, my feet kicking the ground and sending leaves, dirt, and grass into the air behind me. As I move, my eyes don't leave the coin rapidly flying westward, constantly accelerating.
Dakota sets off, too, the fox trying his best to catch up with me. And he only barely can, with me not even going my fastest. If I used Struggers Gasp, Daydream, or Shadowed, I'd leave him behind in a moment.
While we move through the trees, my mind flickers back to when I ran through this same forest with Edmund so long ago. Then I struggled to keep up, but now, I finally understand why Edmund showed little exhaustion despite me running at my quickest.
However, I go one step further when I think of our hurry and the sun minutes from setting. If the Manipulator lives, we will live constantly looking over our shoulders, waiting for it to strike back. I know it wants my life; the Mother Below saying so. It will come for me.
I'm mostly recovered from the fight saturation-wise. I could use some rest, but I'd say I'm at... about half or so. With Dakota to help me, we will undoubtedly be enough to kill Dominus. And so, Ether spirals into my eyes, a Daydream emerging where I am faster, stronger, and more durable. As the chains on my body loosen further, I focus and give up my sense of smell and taste, the two feelings instantly locked down by my chains.
This Daydream speeds me up further, leaving Dakota to fall behind, but before he does, I reach down and grab him. The fox nips at me playfully but lets me carry him as I use Ether to speed up even more.
My whole form becomes cloaked in shadows and darkness, the Adumbral using its ingrained skill to aid me as I bestow it my Ether. Again, I accelerate further, moving at a pace beyond any I ever imagined. I sprint through the forest, my every step a blur beneath me. The wind whistles past my ears as I push my body to its limits, moving at incredible speeds. The last rays of the setting sun cast a fiery glow ahead, lighting my path with a golden hue. Still, as my feet step upon that yellow road, it turns dark, perfect for my Adumbral's shadow.
The world around me blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors, trees, and foliage blending together in a vibrant dance. I navigate through the dense forest with precision, dodging branches and leaping over fallen logs effortlessly. Each stride propels me forward, propelling me after that coin that only seems to speed up as I do. As my feet touch the forest floor, I feel the earth tremble beneath me. The rhythm of my heartbeat syncs with the pounding of my feet, creating a symphony of momentum. The thrill of the chase courses through my veins, driving me onwards.
With each passing second as I run away from the sun setting in the east, the fading sunlight casts elongated shadows that dance alongside me, urging me onward. I embrace the fleeting beauty of the twilight, embracing the power surging within me as the shadows lengthen. And as each inch of gloom grows, I can feel Adumbral hasten me further. And as each inch fades faster and faster before me, I grow confident.
This Manipulator will die.
My journey started in this forest; I own it.
The coin Wished into purpose by Silas still soars beyond me, just barely out of reach, but some part of me refuses to be slower than it. This is my home, Tornridge. I will not be beaten here. Never again. Not by a demon, not by a servant of a God, and indeed, not by some coin.
Ether flows to my feet as Chainlink Boots appear upon my feet, affixing my actions and allowing me to move with even more surety of step. But it's not enough. It's never enough.
My mind focuses, Insight delving into the Bloody Palm's mind as Madness pulls out a thought from the hand. A short image of broken limbs waving in the streaming air from a loosed arrow emerges in my mind as my feet crack and twist, the bones shifting. Yet, despite the odd feeling, no pain arises, and instead, I gain more speed, my broken feet somehow built even better for running.
At this point, I begin to have difficulty dodging between the trees. My pace is so brisk that evading obstacles is growing difficult. Still, I push myself further, my recent victory giving me assurance.
One day, I will be quicker than Darkstep, swifter than Kai, and move through the air like Blightraven. One day. Not today, but every journey has steps, right? Sacate? You told me that.
"Not today. But someday, yet it must start now."
The dead man's wisdom from many moons ago gives me not strength or speed but conviction as my priority moves to my feet.
Ether flows from my core, drifting to my feet as I try to improve Chainlink Boots. I made this skill long ago, so it shouldn't be too difficult to improve. And I used Madness on the Bloody Palm to increase the pressure in my body, allowing me to spare some more Steam Ether for my feet.
Ether flows to my feet in mass amounts as, while sprinting, I twist my Ether into an arc similar to a bow. The idea is born of the Bloody Palm's Madness, and I take the artifact's rambling with utmost sincerity. It might not know much, but it knows Ether. And the idea seems to make sense to me anyway.
More and more Ether in the gaseous form makes up this arc as it grows, and I pull it backward with a strand of normal Ether, creating tension from the dense Ether. Pressure rapidly surmounts in my mind and right foot, the fixation of the Ether. Yet, I take that as a sign I am doing the right thing. Pressure creates diamonds.
And so, as the tension grows to the point that I feel some physical pain in the ball of my foot, I release the bow-like arc. An enormous spurt of momentum is sent from my foot as I'm sent forward dozens of feet, the Ether construct in my foot disassembling from my loss of concentration.
I'm barely able to catch myself from the momentum forward as I move more than five times as fast, of my already insane speed, for a brief eruption. My legs carry me for several hundred feet, just piggybacking off that catapult-like speed boost. It feels more like being thrown from a catapult or some spring-like mechanism than anything else.
Smiling, I name the skill as I redo it, making it better the second time. I could never have made this skill before learning Steam Strand; the tension of gaseous Ether is far too notable for its success of it. However, it would also very likely damage me significantly without the aid of my Virtue, the chains binding my flesh tightly. I wonder what else I'm missing out on?
My thoughts return to the skill, this Arbalest-like Ether construct, within my foot as it occurs again, my body shooting onward. Of course, I'm only using it inside one foot at a time, as I'd lose control with two. But one is enough to shorten the time to reach Raystown immensely.
As I sprint through the forest, thinking I should be near the town, I hear distant ringing. It's faint and indistinct but definitely there. And to make things even more clear about what the noise is, the coin flies toward the outlying sound.
And so I follow the noise and the coin from Silas as a smell enters my nose. Then, slowing down and lowering the Ether in my body to just Strugglers Defiance to save saturation for a fight as the sprint only built more, I step out of a dense portion of the forest to find Raystown buried underneath its own weight.
I approach the devastated village with caution, my eyes fixed on the billowing smoke that rises like a specter from the ruins. Dozens of collapsed frames show me what used to stand within the ashes of a wooden wall. The acrid scent of charred wood and scorched earth fills the air, mingling with a sense of foreboding. Embers glow like angry eyes, casting an eerie light upon the desolation surrounding me.
The village is a haunting tableau of destruction, a testament to unimaginable an atrocity. I take slow, deliberate steps, my heart pounding as I navigate the twisted wreckage that litters the ground on the edge of the forest. Broken fragments of homes and shattered remnants of lives once lived bear witness to the tragic events that unfolded here. Finally, after a few steps into the town, I set Dakota down, the fox lowering itself in preparation for whatever occurred in this town.
Did Dominus already get here? Fires still burn among the wreckage, so it must have been recent. I wonder... what happened here. Everything is ruined like a break came here. Did one? Without Ray, it's possible the nearby demons came to regain their territory, leaving desolation in their wake.
But amidst the chaos, the sound of a bell breaks through the silence, sending a chill down my spine. I instantly still, my torso straightening from the abruptness. The toll echoes with an otherworldly resonance as if calling out to the depths of despair. The sound draws my eyes to the only remains structure, an emberless yet burned church. The half-burned church stands as a somber monument, its walls scorched and crumbling, yet defiant in the face of devastation. Churches are rare, and I've only ever seen them in books or photographs. Only the Devil is allowed to be prayed to without execution, after all. And even then, you are exiled to the frontier. These people... were they true believers or did Ray force them to believe?
Driven by a mix of curiosity and a gnawing sense of unease, I make my way toward the church. Each step feels heavy, as if the nearby deaths linger in the air I breathe. Dakota also moves beside me, his regular patter replaced by stiff struts. The bell's ringing grows louder, its melody discordant, piercing my senses like shards of broken glass.
I pause at the church's double doors, damaged and broken as if struck by a bear or other large creature. I spot the sign of a clover, the symbol for the followers of the Devil, but the insignia is burned and torn as if it has been overthrown. Then, hesitantly as I don't know what lies behind it, I push open the door with the Lily readied in my grasp; it should scare the Manipulator if it sees it.
The innards are revealed to me with a creak, the inside drawing a gasp inside my lungs.
The air hangs heavy with an unsettling blend of ancient power and twisted malevolence. The once hallowed halls of the last sane God are now a macabre theater, a congregation of hooded figures who have forsaken all light of the sun and embraced the warmth of the darkness.
The broken pews bear witness to the weight of their malevolent devotion as hooded figures sit motionless, their presence an ominous existence that permeates the air. Their faces, obscured by shadows, emanate a palpable aura of sinister intent, their collective energy channeled towards a wicked purpose. All sit unmoving, motionless, and uncaring of my entry, even as another malfeasant ring tears through the air.
My eyes are drawn to the back of the church, where a grotesque tableau unfolds, the origin of the sound. A man, his body contorted and suspended upside down on a cross, serves as a twisted centerpiece for their unholy ritual. His eyes, once filled with life, are now vacant and unresponsive. Below his eyes, the contorted form shaking me to the core, is an opening and closing mouth, the bell's origin.
My senses are assaulted by the oppressive atmosphere, and the grip on my Colt tightens as a whine comes from Dakota. The air itself seems to vibrate with ancient and malefic energy, seeping into the very core of my being. I feel the weight of their worship, their devotion to an evil deity that defies comprehension. The minds of each in here have been twisted, forced into subservience to the Mother Below.
Silence hangs thick in the air, broken only when the man opens his mouth, a ring assaulting my ears once more. Each hooded figure exudes an aura of dark enchantment, their collective presence amplifying the foggy light that permeates the desolate church. What is happening? What is this all for? Where is Dominus? Are they calling something? Did they... already call something?
My gaze hardens upon the figures, and I make a decision. Walking in, I notice that Darklight seeps from the floorboards, infiltrating my body from below. Then, using Rapturous to dispel the hated God's Dominion, I quickly pick up Dakota and position him outside with a harsh whisper.
"Stay."
He nods shortly before backing up into some nearby rubble to hide. I then walk back into the church, the figures still not reacting. I take another step, nearing the broken pews, but they still do not move, their focus unwavering.
And so, I draw my dagger from my pocket, the blade making a subtle metallic noise as it emerges from the unsheathing. But by the flash I do so, all the hoods in the room turn to me, revealing the countenances of each creature in the room. Every face is missing all its skin and left only with the nose cartilage, creating monstrosities born only in the most absurd nightmares.
A howling shriek comes from each of the beings without mouths as they all jump into action, a dozen figures crawling toward me on all fours. Some move on the walls, one on the ceiling, and many over the broken pews toward me.
They aren't the Manipulator, but I won't say no to putting them down.