Jack knew he’d made a massive mistake, braced to go to the old man and, with prayer hands, admit it. Though in the moment, the past returned, meshing reality with delusion.

Not Hunter came after him. No. Guardian was who emerged out of the rotunda’s darkness.

Without waiting another second, Jack dashed down the rough side of the hill, his feet sliding on the dirt, desperately searching for the lost urn, screaming the Pathfinder’s name and mumbling the few words in the tongue of death he’d figured out.

Where the hell are you?!

If I don’t find you, I die!

Jack’s lungs began wheezing and his wounds full of metal began throbbing. His run looked hopeless. But he kept going, reaching the bottom of the hill then passing through a valley. He made it to a turn beyond which another dark valley opened.

I know I put it right beside the entrance. How far did that Pathfinder take it?!

If it even was him…

Gravity became stronger and darkness formed around the corners of his eyes. As Jack’s energy ran out, he fell to his knees.

After a moment, his blood boiled, replacing the fear of Guardian. The anger let him jump to his feet and start screaming.

I deserve to die! If I just carried that damn urn inside, this wouldn’t have happened!

This whole Hall of Ceremony needs to be burned to the ground!

A shape fell on the ground a dozen feet ahead. The urn.

Jack stared then shook his head, amazed and surprised. He made sure an ambush didn’t lay in the hills on each side and approached the thing with caution.

From behind him, Guardian made his way through the fog, shouting. The slight hope that he hadn’t figured out Jack lost the urn remained. Jack needed to grab that thing, bring it back to Guardian and avoid any painful penalty--

Everia’s servants appeared out of the air, standing in a circle. In their middle, a humanoid shaped whiteness grabbed the urn. It was like a day’s sky -- a one dimensional figure in the normal world. Jack’s fingers twitched, his jaw dropped and he stumbled backwards.

Beside him, out of the fog, Guardian appeared. The man grabbed Jack, but then froze. He glanced at the deadmen, clenched his jaw and turned back to Jack.

The man produced a red potion. “I said saving your unconscious ass is getting tedious.” He popped the cap open. “And I was right. Though this one’s on me -- I forgot about a few things.”

Guardian pushed the potion in between Jack’s lips. His tongue curled from the sweetness, the sourness and the bitterness.

Lights flashed and colorful lines swirled around Jack’s view. The experience was like walking through the gates, though instead of teleporting to another place, what he saw changed.

The world became clearer and he could think straighter. Now he realized who stood beside him was Hunter…

...yet the view in front remained the same.

***

“We meet again,” two voices spoke at once: Hunter’s and the whiteness’.

The old man stood straight, tipped his hat to cover his face and pushed Jack behind himself.

“This is a matter only for me,” he whispered.

“Tell me, you ancient fool: why are you this stubborn?” The deep voice of the white void came from everywhere, like sounds in the middle of battle.

It sounds just like the priest, Jack thought.

“Because I was pushed out from my home and everything I had was taken,” Hunter spoke. “I want it all back, Everia, I want to watch you suffer.”

This thing is Everia?

“When did we get that name? Didn’t you call us--”

“Because you don’t deserve being called who you really were. You are Everia or The Buzz, but don’t you dare take her name.”

“You’re still in denial Hunter and you still don’t deserve to get your home back. In fact, rotting in the prairie with the other scum is where you belong.”

“You call me a fool and a moron, but you say things like that?” Hunter shook his head. “It’s like telling an adult his dead mother’s womb is where he should live.”

The whiteness laughed. “Good point... for a mere weakling like you. Humans are nothing, but dust that won’t go away.”

“Yet they are the bane of your plans.”

“How come one moment you say something so reasonable while the other your words are dumber than dirt? One or two animals are not the entire race.”

“Is it really me who’s dumb?”

“Those words alone answer your question, inferior being.”

Hunter started pacing.

“What do you want?”

“We’ve said it many times.”

“Sure, sure… You know what’s stopping you? Your arrogance. You just think everyone will bow to whatever you say, give you whatever you want and die whenever you want. Here’s the thing: I’m still here, still alive, still bickering with you.”

“Just look at all your friends, at the boy beside you. All bowed and didn’t know they did it,” the whiteness said. “You are the exception.”

Everia’s presence was what deluded Jack’s mind, not his utter fear of the past

It got the urn then made me run to get it.

This was all a trap.

“I’m really the exception, eh? Well, that’s no errand boy. That’s Jack. Yes, he’s one of the three and yes, he fell for mind control, but all because he’s still weak.”

Everia released a low pitch growl.

“You thinking you can take me with a dozen servants and a weak form of yourself is obviously wrong.”

“Really sure of that?”

Hunter took his journal out of his pocket. “Certainly.”

“We’ll see if you’re the same man you once were.”

***

Jack jumped and rolled, dodging an immense amount of smoke tentacles. He landed on his feet and started running. The swarm of smoke auras gave chase.

I’ve fought deadmen and Everia’s servants, but never so many of them at once and certainly not Everia itself.

This’ll really show how good the Travelling Arena’s loot is.

And how I’ve been hardened by this place.

The tentacles stayed behind him while a few flew by and dissipated. Jack circled the circle of servants and a couple of them fired aura bullets along with their tentacles. The projectiles managed to hit Jack. He grunted and stumbled, but kept his pace up.

The pain in Jack’s legs worsened, but the potion in his blood let him focus on the action ahead. So much happened at once, so many questions arose in his mind that Jack couldn’t have survived a second without Hunter’s potion and his attention being on his own swift moves.

I distract them and I cause a mess while he does his thing.

They’re pretty distracted, but I could do better in the chaos department.

Also, if I can, I should get that urn back, but that seems… well, more than unlikely.

Hunter flipped through the pages of his journal and started reading. “Exa coracopero v’blogisare, corasamo, corai!”

Ah, he’s fighting it by--

Everia roared and flickered a little before dropping the urn and lunging at Hunter.

All the servants that had stood still and attacked with their auras sprung to life and strided at Jack.

His eyes narrowed and he slowed down, dazed at the auras and deads coming at him.

During that one second, the smoke tentacles caught up.

Jack jumped to the right and a dozen whooshed past, he crouched and a couple went over him.

One managed to grab his leg.

Jack screamed from the burning pain, clenched his jaw and lodged his nails into the dirt, crawling.

The smoke was stronger and dragged him toward the mob of deads. Jack shouted Hunter’s name, but the old man focused on Everia.

I messed up.

As the distance between him and the deads lessened, he unsheathed his dagger and doused it in Holy Water.

The tentacle brought Jack to the feet of the deads. They could’ve attacked and finished him at once, but they formed a ring around him and all fired their auras.

The worst pain of his life hit Jack and brought him to a point where his mind almost broke.

You think that’s what it takes to make me give in?!

I didn’t even try out the fernolock pistol, you bastards!

Jack convulsed around on the ground, kicking the legs of the deads and slicing at their feet. He rolled from one to another, doing bits of damage, causing tiny explosions, as the pain from their auras worsened.

I’ll get out of this!

The situation was hopeless and the burning was unbearable. Jack couldn’t feel the dagger in his grip, taste the dirt on his tongue or see beyond the auras. Everything was pain. He focused on staying conscious and alive, leaving his burning muscles to do the thinking.

They chose the dirtiest fighting trick there was.

Jack grabbed his fernolock pistol, aimed it up not too high and fired a pair of rounds. The gun thundered like no revolver he’d ever handled. It all went still and in the faint moment of peace, he grabbed on to the loin of a deadman and slashed.

His vision cleared a little.

As the creatures’ rotten possessions exploded and turned to dust, they stumbled back, convulsing. They couldn’t feel pain, but some instincts couldn’t be shook, even beyond the grave, even once the mind was destroyed and what remained controlled by Everia.

Jack knew such instincts -- the ones instilled by service for Guardian clung on to him even in the depths of the Hall of Ceremony. Even his uncontrollable anger still sat in the back of his mind.

The servants’ reflexes to protect the organ overwhelmed all others and ended up giving a sliver of hope to Jack.

Seeing through an inch wide gap in the auras attacking him, he kept going, fighting the nonstop agony. He went from one dead to another, stabbing and slicing at the servants’ crotches. He squealed himself as he did it, but he had no other choice.

Having gotten enough leeway, Jack grabbed on to a dead and put his dagger into its side. Using it, he pushed himself up. He stood firmly on his feet, got the dagger out, growled and sliced the dead’s knees.

The thing flopped forward and crashed through the tentacles of smoke going after Jack. Its remains mixed with the black dirt.

Some servants regained their senses, some turned to dust or explosions from Jack’s damage. The ones that remained reformed tentacles with their auras and fired them.

Jack dodged the first wave of them and ignored the rest, instead running away.

Hunter screamed something in the tongue of death, jumping from side to side. Everia attacked him. The white void threw jabs at the old man, fired aura spears, but then, backed away. A second later, rods of white void rained from above.

Jack put a hand over his face as light flashed and explosion surrounded him. Once the hellfire stopped, the old man fell and Everia jumped on him.

Jack almost shouted, almost warning the old man, but shut his mouth -- something else caught his attention.

Everia had dropped the urn and left it in the heat of the moment.

Alright.

Jack sprinted towards it.

The Hall of Ceremony, deads and chaos around him all disappeared, leaving just him and the damned thing.

Come on, just an inch!

Jack jumped, opening his arms. As his fingers touched the surface, a tentacle of white smoke blew it out of his grip.

Jack fell face first into the ground, rolled around and stood back up. His eyes found where the urn had went -- a dozen feet to the side. Still determined, Jack ran after it, pushing away the fear and pain in his legs.

He caught the urn.

Jack hugged the heavy thing then raised a fist.

Everia froze, halfway between him and Hunter. The whiteness’ eyeless gaze pierced Jack.

His hands trembled and he stumbled back.

Everia chose to go after Jack.

“Coravoer corasel, ixi v’blogisare!” Hunter screamed, destroying parts of the creature. “Coragio ma zi v’buzzo, fili cora!”

Jack broke his stupid stare and started running away.

Please, destroy it with those words of yours before it gets to me!

Everia’s legs dissipated, but it didn’t slow down. Crawling with its arms, it moved even faster.

“Cora--”

Everia grabbed the urn and pushed Jack away. Now, he was the one chasing.

“...Corablogisare!” Hunter finished.

Everia disappeared...

...the urn along with her.

The culmination of everything crashed on Jack and he collapsed, face first into the black dirt.

Hunter poked his almost numb forearm and ordered, “Get up!”

“What--”

“Not the time for answers,” Hunter said. “We’re still not finished.” He pointed at the circle of deadmen who hadn’t disappeared and at a dirt mound with a spike on its top.

It pulsated for a while before exploding. The spear flew into a hill and the dirt rained on Jack. After the dust cleared, a dozen shadow creatures emerged out of the thing’s remains. They flickered in and out of existence, moving closer to them.

***

“I can’t fight,” he muttered. “Your potion wore off and… all I feel is pain.”

“You’ll fight,” Hunter said. “Drink your Holy Water.”

Jack looked sideways at him then opened his potion and pinched his nose. The smell was awful, but only half the bottle remained. If the taste was bad as well, at least he wouldn’t have to endure a lot of it.

Jack frowned as the drink filled his mouth and… it was sweet? In fact, the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

The Holy Water’s effect was similar to the potion Hunter gave him before the fight. The pain remained, worse than ever, but Jack easily focused on something else, placing the burning in the back of his mind.

Hunter lunged towards the deadmen and Jack followed, now excited.

They worked as a team, one stabbing the creatures in their legs, one slashing their chests. What remained of the servants fought back, firing their auras at lightning speeds.

Hunter killed one behind Jack’s back. Jack took down three behind the old man.

The deads managed to surround them, though only five remained.

Almost there!

A spider web of smoke caught Jack. He ran through the pain, screaming, headbutted the dead who’d attacked him and barraged it with stabs until it was nothing more than a mound of dust.

Two Everia’s servants came from behind and wrapped ropes of smoke around his chest.

Jack gasped, turned around and, growling through his teeth, jumped at the deads. They stepped out of the way, firing more smoke at him.

His vision went black and faint lights flashed: his body couldn’t handle the pain anymore.

Gunfire thundered all around and Jack’s vision returned. Bullets riddled the deadmen and destroyed them.

Jack took a deep breath and--along with Hunter--attacked the last Everia’s servant. He stabbed while Hunter shot. The smoke hurled towards them, but dissipated as the dead evaporated.

Then came the shadow creatures.

Jack backed off and grabbed his fernolock pistol.

Hunter nodded.

Their guns’ barrels released a thunder that didn’t stop until a large cloud of crimson floated in front of them and the deads were nowhere to be seen.

“Done?” Jack asked.

Hunter hesitated for a moment. “Done,” he answered.

Jack laid down, put a hand over his head and sighed a sigh of relief. “Now it’s time for questions.”