Lug was getting hit again and again.

His body was not directly affected by the blows.

Only his psychic body was transmitting part of the shock to the nervous system.

So he felt pain, which told him to find a way to stop the blows.

The impact on the psychic body must have been harmful enough to force the body to transmit such severe pain.

All of this information was going through Lug's head.

It was a strange phenomenon, Lug did not usually have such a clear and fast thinking ability.

Here, his thoughts were vivid.

Paradoxical for someone who was being pounded with blows to the head.

"Stop! Stop... That's enough." Lug had held out his hand to Eno to indicate that he was giving up.

"For today. That's enough." he had trouble pronouncing the consonants as if his mouth was swollen.

He thanked Eno, who looked sorry for the state he had put Lug in.

Yet he hadn't held back.

Lug wanted to throw himself into his bed and fall asleep, never to wake up.

A mixture of sadness and pain formed a cocktail that would have given a hangover to anyone.

And Lug was not very strong.

He nevertheless forced himself to eat a quick meal, then went to the bathroom to wash and brush his teeth.

When he finally collapsed in his bed, he fell straight asleep.

That night he dreamed of cleaning Primont, that the Wise One was proud of him and that Hannah fell into his arms.

The next morning was a rude awakening.

He had a headache that prevented him from taking his head out of the pillow he had buried it in, like a pirate would have buried a treasure.

All he could do was position himself so that he could see Gavan.

Until his headache subsided, his only distraction was going to be an old man continually doing the same action over and over again.

Looking at Gavan had a calming effect, luckily Lug eventually fell back asleep.

He was alone, naked in front of the moon.

It was full and immense.

At that moment he saw a small tourist train stop in front of him, he couldn't see who the driver was, but it was obvious that he was waiting for him to get on.

The train was empty, so he was spoilt for choice.

For some reason he sat down next to the driver, something he would never have done in normal circumstances.

Time passed, there was nothing to see around the train.

Emptiness.

Lug could have thought he was on the moon, if he didn't see it in front of him.

His frustration got the better of him, and after a few more minutes, he finally asked the driver where they were going.

Suddenly the driver turned around, a skull was in place of his head and he said in a chilling tone:

"Your death."

Lug woke up with a start.

He was breathing hard, sweating profusely and had only one desire:

To get out of his bed as quickly as possible.

His head was almost painless and yet, when he looked at the clock, he saw that he had only slept two hours.

He wanted to get out of his house, but the memory of his dream was so intense that he had to sit down.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he thought about the driver's chilling words.

Lug sat next to Gavan.

For no apparent reason he reached out to him.

He touched his sleeve.

The fabric reminded him of what the driver was wearing in his dream.

Gavan didn't even bother to look at him, nor did he care what he was doing.

Lug could feel the psychic material of Gavan's coat between his fingers.

Then he closed his eyes.

He thought back to his dream.

To the moon.

To the void.

Suddenly the sensation of the psychic material on his fingers became more and more cloudy.

Soon, he felt nothing but a slight resistance between his thumb and index finger.

He kept concentrating on the empty sensation, despite the excitement that was building in him from discovering something new.

He focused and soon he felt only a small electric cloud in place of Gavan's sleeve.

He opened his eyes and saw that his fingers were passing through.

He moved his arm forward and to his surprise it passed through Gavan's body.

Lug pulled his arm away and stood up.

He had found the solution.

Cleaning Primont was within his reach.