If Alana’s first four Revelations were about the emotions she experienced from interacting directly with Randidly Ghosthound, the Fifth Revelation was her honest response to the news that he would be leaving and that she didn’t possess the strength to follow him. It was for that reason that Alana refused to stop getting up, no matter how many times she was smashed into the ground.

The previous night, before she had gone to have dinner with Hank, Alana Donal had gone to speak with Randidly; she wanted to request that he take her and Wivanya along with him to the Nexus.

Some part of her had understood that the request was rather unreasonable. She and Randidly hadn’t even had much interaction lately. In addition, she was aware vaguely of the gulf that existed between her own power and that of Randidly Ghosthound. The scent of his images lingered in the air around his island, constantly fascinating Alana. If she went with him at her current power level, she would only be a burden on him. She could understand that. But she also believed that by training with Randidly directly, she would be able to quickly advance across most of the gap between them.

Randidly had been in a lengthy meeting with Gertrude Collins when Alana had arrived at Town Hall and inquired with Tatiana, so she had decided to politely wait until he was finished. During the time that she was waiting, Helen also came to talk about something with Randidly, so the idle duo had agreed to grab a coffee to stall for a bit of time and see if the meeting finished soon.

During that coffee, Alana Donal had confessed the reason that she wanted to talk to Randidly was to ask whether she could come with him to the Nexus. Helen had been silent for several seconds after she heard that and then set down her cup with a click. “Follow me.”

Then she had taken Alana to the training arena and tossed her a training spear. Almost by instinct, Alana caught the spear and frowned. “You want to spar right now…?”

“I just want to teach you a bit of fear.” Helen had responded in a voice that Alana had taken as being filled with arrogance. And so she had tightened her grip on the spear and fought against Helen without holding anything back. Although it was a little over twelve hours to the finals, Alana had freely unleashed all four of the Revelations she had.

At the end of the spar, Helen had crouched next to the wheezing Alana Donal. “Think deeply about what your role in the life of Randidly Ghosthound truly is. Only come back to make this request if you are absolutely sure of your answer.”

Which was why Alana had shown up at Hank’s covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. She had been truly and utterly suppressed in a way that she hadn’t experienced in quite a while. Even when Randidly had become the avatar of the Grim Chimera in his challenge against Donnyton, Alana hadn’t felt so helpless. She hadn’t been able to reach him there, but it had felt like he was only a short distance away.

This was different. Because in Helen’s image there was an implacable certainty that Alana couldn’t currently rival. It wasn’t confidence and it wasn’t just concrete Willpower projecting a conclusion.

Helen simply knew her role implicitly. That certainty eliminated all hesitation in her person and image. As small as Alana’s hesitations were, they were still present. She didn’t quite know what she wanted to be. That was an undeniable fact.

Seeing her state last night, Hank had demanded an explanation and then stomped away to exact vengeance on Helen. He slunk back a half-hour later, looking a little roughed up but seemingly less mentally affected than Alana had been.

Now, standing with a useless dominant arm in front of Paolo and Kayle, Alana acted without hesitation. She wanted to be the woman who won this fight. So she raised her head. “The Fifth Revelation: Want.”

The white wings spreading outward from her Fate above her head beat rapidly and began to shrink. As the wings receded, white flames seeped out of the fingers of her left hand. She rigidly extended her fingers forward to mimic the head of a spear and then settled down into a half-crouch. Both Paolo and Kayle watched her warily, nursing their own wounds.

Of the five revelations, this one had the weakest Skill effect. It simply granted Alana an increased clarity of intent between her thoughts, Skills, and body. The effect was a slight but holistic amplification that grew more powerful the more single-minded she became. The change in the color of her flames just proved it was working as intended. And standing in that arena as Randidly and the audience weighed their actions, Alana could see with absolute clarity the Path she wanted to take.

If you want to be something different, simply be through action. Changing yourself is that simple.

Alana glanced between Paolo and Kayle. Her gaze felt leaden as she shifted it from side to side, as though the process of adjusting the object of her attention required several technicians fiddling with precise dials. “Are you both prepared?”

They didn’t answer with words, but both Paolo and Kayle sprung forward at the very same instant. Kayle could only move one of his arms well enough to hold a knife but his eyes seemed to gleam with the palpable desire to seize victory for himself. Paolo kept his left arm close to his chest, but Alana sensed his image gaining traction around his body once more; she suspected that he would be able to manage at least one more strike with that ‘wounded’ arm.

Kayle was coming from Alana’s 10 o’clock while Paolo rushed in from her 3. She stepped sharply to the right, making a beeline for Paolo. Her left arm was a spear that she thrust forward in a sizzling line. The white flames rising from her hand didn’t flicker with the movement, seemingly above the influence of air pressure caused by her movement.

Paolo lowered his shoulder and used his right arm to push aside Alana’s thrust. The muscles of his right arm were shredded from contact with that placid white flames and his face twisted into a scowl, but he managed to deflect it. For a split second, they stood there, Paolo’s left arm cradled against his chest while her arm right arm hung limply at her side. Alana watched him with half-lidded eyes.

He didn’t strike despite her nonexistent guard.

Alana smashed her foot into the side of Paolo’s knee, earning a grunt from him. But his image of triumph flared and kept him on his feet. At which point Kayle arrived at her back and slashed forward with his long knife.

Twisting, Alana accepted a long gash across her shoulder blades in order to whip her right arm around. She couldn’t grip with it or move anything past her elbow, but it was enough to crack Kayle in the jaw with her shattered elbow joint. She felt the fracture spread to her upper arm, but Alana couldn’t dwell on that; she shifted her weight onto her other leg to move fractionally away from Paolo.

But the three of them were simply too close together. As Kayle was falling backward from her elbow strike, his leg whipped up and kicked Alana in the waist. It wasn’t particularly damaging, but it did mean that Paolo caught up with Alana before she could pull back her left hand. His right hand seized her left wrist, below the reach of the white flames.

This time he did strike with his left arm, a straight so brutal that she would have wondered if he was injured at all had she not been able to hear the bones of his shoulder grinding against each other during the explosive movement. Yet she had been expecting this; Alana pivoted on her left foot, bringing the right half of her body backward and letting the punch whizz past her nose.

But instead of running out of gas there, Paolo’s fist sprung open and then he swung his arm toward her. Before she could react, Paolo had physically seized Alana’s face, pushing her to the side in an attempt to unbalance her. Alana twisted her left wrist to escape Paolo’s other hand, but his grip was like steel. The crowd's cheers made him seem more like an avatar of wrought metal than a human being. His body became the refinery and each movement was a working of incredible sophistication beyond the normal functioning of a human body.

Her right arm flailed but was largely useless. Alana’s mouth tasted like blood as Paolo’s fingers ground her cheeks against her teeth. In her heart, she felt viciously frustrated. But more than anything, she was struck then by her own limits. This was as far as she had been able to make it, even after ridding herself of her hesitation.

Alana’s torso was steadily being pushed backward and her legs couldn’t keep up with the pressure. Paolo possessed more raw Strength than she did. There was a part of Alana that felt like it was time to give up.

But she didn’t want to. And in her chest, there was a resonance form the vast space that had existed since Randidly Ghosthound had created the connection with her. Through that, she had gratefully absorbed quite a few details that had largely solidified the foundation of her image. That connection had been the lifeline that had made her rapid ascension to the strongest individual on Earth that much more smooth.

So close the precipice of a loss now and still under the influence of the Fifth Revelation, Alana felt that calm resonance. It could nudge her in the right direction now, but she sensed that it wouldn’t be enough to overcome her current predicament. And when she thought about that, she could see the one moment where that connection had been useless: when she had lost herself in the expectations that Donnyton had for her.

And in a way, it was the presence of this supportive connection that had put Alana in the mindset that meant it was so difficult to escape the behaviors that had her image plateau for so long. It had caused her to take the details of images for granted.

It wasn’t enough just to absorb another’s details to grow stronger while only working on the fundamentals herself. Sometimes, even a prophet needed to raise her eyes toward the sky and want.

The muscles of Alana’s abdomen strained against the muscles of Paolo’s arm. I still want to win.

The white flames on Alana’s left hand stirred and slid down her arm. Her arm abruptly cut sideways as she sliced through the fingers of Paolo’s right hand and then cut his left arm off at the forearm. Strangely, his hand still squeezed her face even as Paolo took a stunned step backward.

Unfortunately, victory wasn’t quite so simple.

Kayle’s long knife ripped into Alana’s right thigh and then cut downward, largely destroying her quadricep. She fell forward onto her knees, but that also brought Kayle into a hunched position as he continued to twist the blade in her wound. She rewarded him with a horse kick to his face that crunched his nose into a mound of mashed flesh and cartilage that leaked blood.

With her right leg trembling, she spun onto her butt and raised her left hand above her head. The white flames evaporated from her limb and formed a one-meter tall hand in the air above her. It resembled ghastly figures from poorly developed film in older photography, blurred at the edges and strangely exaggerated. It was a child’s rendition of a hand rather than an anatomically correct version.

That glowing white hand swept forward, its fingers scything toward Kayle. Kayle produced another dagger to replace the one he left sticking out of Alana’s thigh and reversed his grip. His Willpower clearly illuminated his grey eyes. “Absolute Divide.”