"Fuuu..."
A deep, measured breath escaped his lips. Through that single respiration, Zachary entered a state of total immersion. He had grown used to this—the ability to slip into the depths of his own consciousness almost instantly, provided nothing was actively trying to kill him.
With each breath, he traced the path of digested essence as it traveled through his Body, nesting in every bone and tempering every muscle with newfound power.
'My Core hit saturation after the Guards...' Zachary thought, focusing his mind's eye on his Soul Core. 'But there was something more to it this time.'
He remembered it clearly. His Core had been on the verge of bursting when he struck down the final Guard. But even after his Core reached its absolute limit, he had continued to absorb the remaining fragments. Instead of gathering in the saturated Core, they had bled directly into his physical form, having the same strengthening effect as if he had spent weeks feasting on high-grade monster meat.
'Flow Control relies on the essence of the body, while the saturation of the Soul Core dictates the raw potency of an Awakened,' Zachary mused, feeling the core pulsing like a second, heated heart. 'But the question is... does this mean I can continue to absorb Soul Shards until my Body fully saturates?'
His anatomy was clearly an anomaly. A standard Awakened had a rigid limit when it came to absorbing shards—unless, of course, they possessed a Divine Aspect. Being able to house essence in both his Body and his Core was a massive tactical advantage. He'd have to verify the limits of this overflow later.
Turning his attention back to the saturated Core, a slight frown creased his marred features. It was common knowledge that Core saturation directly boosted an Awakened's Abilities. Yet, Zachary felt no change in Balance Control. His Ability remained as it had always been.
'I don't see that as a problem, honestly,' he told himself, feeling the resonant hum between his Body, Mind, and Soul.
By maintaining the ratio between his Soul's saturation, the physical tampering of his body, and the rigorous training of his mind, Unity remained active. It pushed his existence to 120% efficiency, allowing him to utilize the full capacity of a saturated Core to its absolute limit—perhaps even beyond it.
With a final, grounding thought, Zachary pulled his consciousness inward, entering his Soul Sea.
The Broken Sunset welcomed him. He took a moment to appreciate the somber beauty of the scene—the warm purples and bruised oranges reflecting off the undulating water beneath his feet. The cracks in the sky remained a tenebrous testament to the horrors lurking in the depths of his psyche.
With a sharp exhale, he summoned his Runes.
Name: Zachary.
True Name: Heaven's Equal. [Unclaimed]
Rank: Dreamer.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Soul Fragments: [1000/1000]
Memories: [Ender's Solace], [Witness' Testament], [Antlered Wrath], [Midnight Shard], [Ordinary Rock], [Endless Spring], [Ordinary Rope], [Rising Attachment], [Flame of the West], [Mantle of the Underworld].
Echoes: [Carapace Scavenger], [Stone Saint].
Attributes: [The Fool], [Mark of Sin], [Conqueror's Soul], [Blasphemer], [Enlightenment], [Spark of Divinity], [Blood Weave].
Aside from the completion of his fragments, there was no visible change. Zachary cursed openly.
"Three damned months hunting in the Ruins, and you're telling me I haven't received a single new Memory?!" He ground his teeth.
His last two acquisitions had been purchased from Stev, and the ones before that were... troublesome. He had received the Ordinary Rope when he decided to take Fate into his own hands—a subtle suggestion from the Spell to go hang himself. He'd received Rising Attachment when his foretold death was declared—a tool designed specifically for escape.
In his First Nightmare, he had received two of the most useful Memories possible, but they had come at the price of two significant lives.
"Fucking Spell," Zachary muttered, clicking his tongue. "I feel like it lowered the drop rate just for me."
It was becoming clear that his luck with Memories differed wildly from Sunny's. The ones they shared were either gifts from others or significant pieces of the narrative—with the sole exception of the Ordinary Rock, of course. This, combined with the presence of his Echoes, made him believe that Memories from the novel only appeared if he killed the exact creature that had dropped them in the original timeline.
'That would be difficult... but not impossible,' Zachary thought, dismissing the Runes. There were still a few critical Memories left in the Forgotten Shore.
He turned to his left. In the distance, the pillar of salt connected the broken heavens to the mirror of his Soul Sea. He watched with a serene expression as the broken sky seemed to heal near the pillar, only for the cracks to multiply elsewhere.
Then, he looked into the water. Beneath the reflected purples and oranges, he could see the dark expanses of the depths. Blood Weave had developed a welcomed synergy with Cinder Eyes; through it, he could see the ink-like clouds floating in the abyss. They had grown more numerous. Some were deep and heavy; others were vague, shifting shapes that drifted with a defined but alien purpose.
Zachary knew where those clouds came from, but without daring to voice the thought, he sighed and turned back. Behind him, something greeted him that stole his breath no matter how many times he saw it.
Descending from the cracks in the sky was a towering tapestry. Its lower edges caressed the water of his Soul Sea peacefully, creating undulating, beautiful patterns that rippled toward the horizon. The edges of the tapestry were adorned with intricate drawings and faded mandalas—drifting clouds, lotuses, peonies and chrysanthemums of varied hues. Bodhi trees, dancing parasols, waving banners, vases, golden fishes and ropes tied in endless, intricate knots.
It was vast, peaceful, and domineering; both full and empty. It was a Thangka... his Aspect Legacy.
The iconography of the Repentant Paths.
At the center of the mandalas sat a massive circle that occupied nearly the entire tapestry. However, in stark contrast to the decorated edges, the circle was largely hollow. It was divided evenly into six segments, with only the one at the apex vaguely filled with symbols and faded drawings.
Zachary recognized it instantly: the Bhavacakra, the symbolic representation of the Cycle of Samsara. Each segment represented one of the Six Realms into which a soul could be reincarnated. Since he had only pioneered one Path, only one segment was drawn... and even then, only partially.
The drawing depicting the Deva Realm was a ghost of an image. Only through his enhanced sight could his eye pry into the faded details: drifting clouds, a sky filled with pale, distant stars, and a lighthouse surrounded by crushing waves. The clearest image of all was a lute fashioned from solidified lightning—but there was no one there to play it.
He wasn't an expert on Aspect Legacies—they were rare even in the novel—but he knew enough to realize his was an anomaly. After learning Thunder Song, he had practiced and studied the nature of lightning with clinical obsession. He hadn't made a single inprovement with it, but Zachary recognized something.
His Legacy was incomplete.
There were only two cases were an Aspect Legacy was made from more than one part, and mastering one of them granted you with a Legacy or Knowledge. Yet, despite Thunder Song being classified as the "Knowledge of the Storm God," the Spell hadn't actually granted him a single scrap of information. The transformation of his soul's shape had come solely from his own ingenuity and trial.
"Perhaps... it's because my Aspect is tied to Samsara and the pursuit of Enlightenment," Zachary muttered, his gaze fixed on the tapestry. He was traversing his Path seeking understanding; it was only logical that the Spell wouldn't hold his hand.
'My Aspect is definitely an outlier,' he thought with a mocking grin. 'The Spell is supposed to aid the Awakened in their ascension, yet it grants me nothing.'
Take his [Enlightenment] Attribute, for instance. He had concluded it was the core Attribute of his Aspect—much like [Child of Shadows] was for Sunny or [Nephilim] for Nephis. But while they possessed theirs from the moment they Awakened, he'd had to nearly die just to recognize his own.
His Legacy followed the same brutal logic.
A Legacy wasn't just an Aspect's history; it was tied to the nature of the wielder. Sunny's Legacy was a perfect complement to his shadow nature.
"So, what is my nature?" Zachary asked the silence, but no answer came. There were too many unknowns surrounding his existence. One thing, however, was certain: his Legacy was tied to the very nature of his soul.
'What am I?'
He thought calmly for a few seconds before answering calmly. He was a foreign soul, a prisoner of Samsara trying to escape both the cycle and this world by seeking Enlightenment. 'But is that the right way out of this place?'
He shook his head, clearing the thought. He was still leagues away from even glimpsing that possibility. For now, he had to address why his Legacy remained incomplete. He re-read the description carefully: "...Walk their Paths, experience their teachings, and assimilate their Actions."
"Actions... Karma."
It was the same rune in the ancient tongue, but the meaning was worlds apart. Taking that thought as an anchor, Zachary asked himself the final, most difficult question.
"What, exactly, is Karma?"
Karma was commonly seen as a type of spiritual currency: do good deeds and receive good things; do bad deeds, and the universe settles the score. The Law of Cause and Effect. But Zachary knew the reality was far more nuanced. The nature of Karma went beyond the physical action; it reached into the murky realm of Intent—Cetana.
If you help a stranger but do so expecting a reward, you haven't acted with compassion. You've acted with greed. In the true mechanics of the soul, there is no objective "good" or "bad" Karma. There is no celestial judge weighing a heart against a feather.
Instead, Karma is a seed. Every time you act with a specific intention, you plant that seed within your own mind and soul. If you constantly plant seeds of "Greed," your Self becomes heavy with those tendencies. At the moment of death, that weighted soul naturally gravitates toward the Preta Realm, where the Hungry Ghosts roam. The soul doesn't go to hell because it's "bad"; it goes there because it has become resonant with it.
'Thunder Song... I only changed the shape of my soul to act like lightning. A purely structural, physical transformation,' Zachary mused, caressing his chin as he stared at his palm. 'That's why my Legacy is incomplete. I've built the skeleton, but I lack the flesh to fill it.'
But there was something incredibly dangerous in this realization. If he wanted to take the next step—to achieve completion—the very nature of his Self would have to follow the transformation.
A change of Self.
It was the one thing Zachary had been fighting against since the moment he arrived in this world: the loss of 'Myself'.
"I can think about that later..." he whispered, his voice echoing through the vast, empty sea of his soul. He shook his head. He had nearly died just to grasp the hollow husk of the Storm's Authority; he could feel that the rest of the path would require even more sacrifice than the one he was willing to take at the moment.
With that final, heavy thought, Zachary pulled his consciousness back to reality.
The vibrant purples and bruised oranges of the Soul Sea dissolved, replaced by the cold, damp stone and oppressive silence of the Cathedral.
Opening his eye, Zachary took a deep, grounding breath. He was sitting cross-legged in the blood-stained corner of the Priestess's room. Across from him, Effie was sprawled on the sofa, mindlessly bouncing a ball of string against the wall with rhythmic, hypnotic precision.
A week had passed. The gluttonous huntress was now on the verge of losing her mind from the sheer lack of entertainment. Zachary had spent his nights out in the dark, and every time he returned, Effie tried to get a rise out of him—only to find that her jokes invariably bit her back.
He watched her toned arm move with surgical accuracy, hitting the exact same spot on the masonry time after time. Perhaps sensing his scrutiny, Effie turned sharply and whipped the ball straight at his face.
Zachary didn't even flinch. He simply tilted his head by a fraction of a millimeter, letting the string whistle past his ear.
Effie clicked her tongue in annoyance, leaning back carelessly into the cushions and stretching her athletic legs across his low table. She studied him for a long, quiet interval before finally pointing at her own face.
"Why don't you cover it?"
Zachary raised an eyebrow, his fingers lightly tracing the jagged, puckered skin of his scars. Sometimes he genuinely forgot the state of his face. If it weren't for the way the salty, caustic air of the Shore occasionally stung his raw skin, he would go days without a single thought for his appearance. In the heat of combat, his senses were so heightened that he didn't even register the absence of his eye.
"I don't really feel the need to," he answered simply. "I don't care much about what people think of my looks." He considered how Effie, with her blunt and careless attitude, had actually bothered to ask. "Do you think I should?"
Effie caressed her chin meticulously, scrutinizing his marred features for another beat before sighing. "While it certainly adds to that 'tortured bad boy' air you've got going on, I don't think most people would appreciate the... aesthetics of it."
"I'll give it some thought, then," Zachary said. In reality, he had a hundred things more important to consider than the cosmetic value of an eyepatch.
He stood up, his joints letting out a series of loud, satisfying pops as he stretched his arms behind his back. He walked toward the silver tray where he had left some cooked meat before his meditation, only to find the plate licked clean.
Just as he was about to interrogate the resident thief, Effie's voice drifted over from the sofa.
"Hey, I've been thinking—"
"Must have been hard on you," Zachary interrupted sarcastically. He turned toward the wardrobe to fetch more jerky, but he felt a piercing, murderous gaze bore into the back of his skull.
He coughed awkwardly. "Sorry. Continue."
"As I was saying," she began again, her eyes narrowing. "I was thinking—"
"Congratulations," Zachary cut in once more. Effie shot daggers at him, her hand twitching toward her spear. He raised his hands in mock apology. "Sorry, sorry! That was the last one. Please, proceed."
Effie stared at him for a long second, her nose wrinkling in a frown. Finally, she let out a defeated sigh of resignation. "I've been thinking..."
She trailed off, shooting a deadly glare at Zachary, who had sat on the edge of the table and was now casually biting into a piece of jerky.
"What? I didn't say a word," he said obliviously, taking a long sip from the Endless Spring.
"You thought it," Effie accused.
Zachary chuckled. Her senses really were sharp. "Perhaps... Anyway, finish the thought before it escapes you."
With a pained groan, she finally forced it out. "I was thinking that even after spending a week with you, I still don't understand why you would leave the Settlement in the first place..."
The question hung in the air for a heavy moment. Zachary looked at her seriously, then let out a slow, measured sigh. "What have you heard, Effie?"
"That's the thing! I've heard nothing at all!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "Princess and Cassie are like a pair of locked vaults whenever the topic comes up, no matter how much I pry. But..."
Effie leaned forward, her athletic frame casting a shadow over the low table. A hint of playful reluctance danced in her eyes, quickly overtaken by a mischievous glint.
"Well, a deal is a deal. I did say I'd share a secret about Princess if you shared your food, and it's not like this is top-secret military intelligence." Her grin widened, the pure, unadulterated joy of gossiping finally breaking through her huntress facade.
"The secret is that your parting affected Princess far more than she'd ever admit. She doesn't talk about it, obviously, but it was hilarious watching her flinch every single time your name came up. They might try to act stoic, but..." She trailed off, letting the implication hang. Her expression was the perfect depiction of a teenager spinning elaborate fantasies out of thin air.
Zachary just shook his head. "I see."
"What?! 'I see'? Just that!?" Effie practically screamed, looking personally insulted by his lukewarm reaction. "Show some spirit! I painstakingly gathered that intel!"
"Grow up, Effie," Zachary cut her off with a sharp, dry scoff. "It isn't the mindless drama you're imagining. It's just that Nephis isn't used to people voicing objections to her methods. Especially not from me—someone who was there with her and Cassie from the very beginning."
He watched the light fade from the huntress's eyes as her delusion collapsed under the weight of his pragmatism. For a fleeting second, Zachary allowed himself to consider the alternative, then immediately discarded it. It was already a miracle that Nephis had developed a sense of trust for him, considering how his [Blasphemer] Attribute interacted with her Divine Lineage. Seeking anything beyond that was like looking for stars in a mud puddle.
'Her reaction probably stems from the words we exchanged that night, nothing more,' he concluded, taking another bite of jerky. 'Did I manage to plant a seed of doubt in her? To make her question the absolute nature of her path?'
The answer wasn't clear, but it didn't change the trajectory. Things were already moving in the direction he had foreseen.
"You're no fun..." Effie slumped back into the sofa with a defeated groan. She turned her head toward him again, her eyes narrowing. "So, answer the question. Why? Was it because she ordered me to launch you like a javelin when the Spire Messenger attacked?"
Her nasty grin returned as she recalled the sensation of throwing him across the ruins. "I mean, if I were the one flying that spectacularly, I might hold a grudge. And your response to her trying to heal you was... let's say heated. After that, everyone just started ignoring you, so—"
"It had nothing to do with that. Do you think I'm some middle-schooler who sulks because the popular kids won't sit with him at lunch?" He let out a genuine, surprised laugh.
He considered how to explain the rift, but recognizing that his argument was specifically with Nephis's core philosophy, he chose a simpler, equally true answer.
"I had things that required my undivided focus, and the Settlement was becoming a distraction. Too many people... too little space. You understand what I'm saying, don't you?"
Effie studied him for several seconds, her gaze sharp and focused. She was intelligent enough to know that wasn't the whole story, but she was mature enough to recognize a boundary when she hit one.
"Ohhh, I see, I see..." she said, her eyes widening in mock understanding. A suggestive smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Did Mr. Inconvenient have some 'private business' to attend to? Oh my, how scandalous!"
Zachary dragged a tired hand over his face. "Effie, dear... you're remarkably interested in my private time. Is there something you're trying to tell me?"
The huntress flinched, her nose wrinkling in a disgusted scowl at her failure to make his composure crumble. Then, a sudden, revealing light flashed in her eyes—an epiphany.
"You know what, Mr. Inconvenient? You definitely need a new nickname," she said, snapping her fingers at him with a burst of joy. "You're 'Blabbermouth' now. It perfectly captures your ability to spout nonsense at a moment's notice."
He scoffed at the moniker, but he didn't protest. Instead, he leaned forward and slid the Endless Spring toward her.
"If you're going to address my incredible ability to always have something articulate to say, then I invite you to call me 'Zach-Lip' instead. It has a much better ring to it." He smiled, remembering what his friends in the Other World used to call him.
Effie let out a loud, derisive snort. "In your dreams, Blabbermouth."
Shaking his head in mock defeat, Zachary glanced at an invisible watch on his wrist. The air in the room suddenly felt thinner, more purposeful.
"Come on, Effie," he said, his voice losing its teasing edge. "They should be arriving soon. Let's get out of here."
A few minutes later, the two of them stood before the Cathedral's massive, broken gates. Zachary sat lazily on the stone steps, while Effie stood behind him, her eyes scanning the impenetrable darkness beyond the threshold. After a long minute, a chill seemed to pass through the huntress, and her gaze settled on his waist.
There, hanging from the steel chords of Rising Attachment, was a longsword with its blade tightly wrapped in bandages.
"Why are you carrying a sword on your hip, Zach? Cosplaying as a Guard?" she asked, a mocking chuckle escaping her lips. "While you certainly have the 'brooding sentry' look down, I wouldn't recommend the career path. The labor benefits are non-existent."
"Nothing like that. And why would I be an employee when I'm already the employer?" Zachary leaned back against the cold stone with a scoff. "Anyway, I'm carrying it because if I unsummon it, I'll lose the charge."
"Charge?" Effie asked, her brow furrowing.
But before he could elaborate, both of them turned toward the corner of the plaza. Four silhouettes emerged from the gloom, and as they drew closer, Zachary let out a small sigh of relief. Kai was with them.
Seeing the dashing archer fulfilling his predetermined role made Zachary realize something: the archer was an untradeable asset for the journey ahead. Every member of this cohort was a necessary gear in the machine that would eventually reach the Hollow Mountains. It raised a lingering question: if Zachary hadn't invited Kai to the meeting, how would Nephis have secured his cooperation?
'Not like it matters now,' Zachary mused, standing up to meet them. "What's up, man! I know you said you hoped to see me soon, but isn't this a bit fast? Did you miss me already?"
He patted Kai's shoulder with friendly bravado. "Well, I can't blame you. It is quite an experience being around me, don't you think?"
"Hahaha, it's good to see you, Zach..." Kai answered with a sheepish, charming smile. "And while I'm glad we're meeting again, I'm actually here for a different reason. Lady Nephis invited me to join their expedition."
"Now, has she?" Zachary feigned surprise, casting a glance toward Nephis. "I hope you're getting paid, at least. Or what? Is she going to tell you she's just throwing a pizza party once we get back?"
Seeing Kai's smile turn awkward, Zachary threw his arms up in mock outrage. "Preposterous! We really should form a union, Kai! You and me! How can we accept such blatant abuse from those in power? I say we—"
"That's enough, Zach," Nephis interrupted, her voice a tired, rhythmic sigh. She studied him in silence for a few seconds, her pale eyes as unreadable as ever. "Since you're mentioning payment... I think it's time you tell me what you want in exchange for your help. I'll feel more comfortable knowing our terms before we depart."
Zachary's face shifted instantly. The playful union leader vanished, replaced by the grim, focused mask of the fighter who had lived in the ruins for months. He looked toward the Cathedral behind him, his single eye seeming to pierce the stone walls.
"Fine," he said, his voice dropping into a measured, serious tone. "Behind me, inside the bowels of this ruined cathedral, lies my neighbor. It's a Fallen Devil. Once we return from this trip, I want the cohort's help in killing it."
The reaction was exactly as he'd expected. The heavy silence that followed was thick with shock. Zachary sighed inwardly; he had debated the fate of the Forsaken Knight for a long time. The Stone Saint was an Echo, meaning she gained nothing from the kill, and he personally held no grudge against the Devil.
But he needed what lay beneath the Cathedral.
Weaver's Mask.
In all honesty, he was conflicted. Just as with Blood Weave, Zachary would have preferred to leave anything related to the nebulous Daemon to rot in the dark. Nothing good ever came from their touch. And yet, he couldn't deny that the benefits of a Divine Memory outweighed his dread. Specifically, the [Mantle of Lies] enchantment. The ability to hide the wearer and cloak their presence from prying eyes was the only reliable way he had found to mitigate the effects of his [Blasphemer] Attribute.
'I'll just need to be careful about the reversal of the Flaw...' he thought, a cold shiver running down his spine as he considered the implications of Mara's Whisper being inverted.
Kai's reluctant voice broke through his brooding. "Zach... my friend... why would you even want to kill a Fallen Devil? Has it wronged you in some way?"
The archer sounded more concerned for Zachary's mental health than the fact that his friend was currently living directly above such a creature.
"Wronged me..." Zachary mused for a long second, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grim shadow of a smile. "Not really. As a matter of fact, I'm quite fond of the big guy. He's my sparring partner, after all... but if you want a reason, let's just say he gutted a friend of mine."
"Sparring partner..." Kai repeated, his face turning several shades paler.
Just as Caster looked ready to protest the absurdity of the price, Nephis spoke up. Her voice was steady, cutting through the rising disbelief of the group.
"The terms are acceptable. There is precedent for a Sleeper slaying a Fallen creature... and if Zachary is as thorough as I know him to be, then once we return stronger than we are now, it is possible." She gave him a sharp, determined nod, her expression as calm as a frozen lake. "If there is nothing more—"
"There's one more thing, Neph," Zachary interrupted. "And it's better to make it clear before we take another step."
Sensing the shift in his aura, Nephis turned to face him fully. Zachary stepped forward until they were barely a pace apart, his single eye locked onto her grey, unreadable gaze.
"I'm going to help you on this expedition... but that doesn't mean I'm part of your cohort again. That ship sailed a long time ago," Zachary said, his voice dropping into a resonant, gravelly bass. "My job is to get you to the edge of the labyrinth and back safely. To do that, I'll be acting on my own discretion. I won't follow orders that conflict with that."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken history.
"Don't worry," Zachary continued, "none of my actions will put you at risk. But if you have an issue with these conditions, speak now."
Nephis didn't blink. She studied his scarred face, and despite her impassive mask, Zachary could see the white-hot intensity burning in the depths of her eyes. The rest of the cohort stood frozen, none of them daring to break the silence between the two.
'I'm not doing this for pride,' Zachary thought as he maintained the stare-down.
He had calculated every move of the upcoming journey, he still lacked an answer for the Dark Sea problem, but besides that things were pretty clear. Zachary remembered how Nephis had acted from the very beginning back at the labyrinth, she had been quite opposed to let him face danger.
He still ignored what made her act that way, but for his plan to work—for him to change the ending—he needed the freedom to move outside her shadow. He needed her to accept his autonomy with her own mouth.
After a long beat, Nephis finally asked in an emotionless voice, "Won't you regret it?"
He could imagine what she was referring to. Zachary merely scoffed. "You should already know the answer to that."
"...Then it's decided. Let's go." She turned on her heel and began walking across the plaza. The cohort followed immediately, their heading set.
South.
Shaking his head with a mirthless laugh, Zachary fell into step beside them, positioned near Effie to augment her huntress instincts with his own sharpened senses.
He closed his eye for a moment, focusing on the rhythmic sounds of their movement. He noted Nephis's confident, tense gait; Caster's light, spring-loaded steps; Effie's powerful, grounding stride; Cassie's elegant, refined footwork—she was no longer the girl tripping over shadows, but a warrior who moved with eerie certainty. Finally, there was Kai, whose footsteps were wary yet professional.
Seeing them move with such collective competence made Zachary realize a harsh truth.
'I had no shards to give them...' he thought with a grim internal sigh.
Unlike the novel, where Sunny had traded Memories for Shards to bolster the group, Zachary had arrived to the meeting empty-handed. Every resource he'd managed to scrape together had gone toward his preparations with Harper. The cohort was technically slightly weaker than their original timeline counterparts.
'It won't matter,' he told himself, his resolve hardening. 'I'll just have to pull enough weight to make up the difference.'
The thought made him lampoon inwardly. 'I'll be carrying the legends... my, how benevolent of me.'
They crossed into a district of tall, blackened buildings that looked like charred ribs against the sky. As they stepped into the first narrow street, a faint chill brushed against the back of Zachary's neck. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.
It wasn't a warning from Danger Sense—that instinct remained silent. Nor was it a ping from his spatial awareness, which he currently kept focused in a tight, twenty-meter radius to conserve his mental energy.
This was something different. It was the instinctive prickle of a predator recognizing another of its kind lurking in the tall grass. Despite the silence of Danger Sense, Zachary recognized the feeling instantly.
'He's here...'
Zachary turned back toward the path they had just traveled. Beside him, Cassie did the same. The blind girl's senses had sharpened remarkably since she lost her sight, but they couldn't compare to Cinder Eyes—an Innate Ability specifically forged to tear through the veils of the world.
"You felt it too?" Zachary asked. His voice made her flinch, but after a second, she nodded slowly, her expression pale.
Noticing the shift in both of them, Nephis turned back. "What is it?"
Instead of answering, Zachary vaulted onto a broken wall, agilely reaching the remains of a ruined Gothic spire. He curled his hand into a circle over his eye, forcing his vision into a narrow, focused tunnel.
There, several blocks away in a street they had crossed minutes ago, a twisted shadow moved with a casual, predatory confidence. The figure didn't bother to hide its hunched presence.
"...They're finally on the move," Zachary whispered before dropping back down to the cohort without making a sound. The air between them had turned brittle and tense.
"Okay, I've got good news and bad news," he said, a weak, mocking smile playing on his lips. "Which one do you want first?"
Nephis's expression twisted comically. She knew exactly where this was going, but before she could voice a complaint, Caster spoke up.
"The good news first."
"Well... the good news is that today's weather is fantastic for a sunbath, if anyone's interested." Zachary let out a vague, dry cough.
The cohort's expressions shifted into various states of bewilderment. Cassie reached up to cover her blindfold, shaking her head in weary disappointment. Finally, Caster asked again, his voice tight with poorly contained contempt.
"And the bad news?"
"Harus is following us."
The mirth vanished from Zachary's voice like a mirage in the heat. The weight of that single name was enough to bury the terrible joke. A deep, harrowing tension descended over the group. Zachary knew the hunchback's secrets from the novel, but the cohort only knew the legend—the mad butcher of the Bright Lord, a creature of mindless violence and terrifying strength. No one survived his sentence.
Zachary let the silence hang for a moment, letting the dread settle, before turning to Effie.
"Take them to the Lighthouse," he commanded. "We can lose him there."
Effie looked at him, startled. It took a beat for the realization to sink in. "How do you—no, wait. What about you, Blabbermouth?"
"Well... I'll be the distraction, of course," he said nonchalantly, cracking his neck until it popped.
Their faces transformed again. Through Cinder Eyes, Zachary watched the kaleidoscope of their emotions: Caster looked at him with calculated interest; Effie showed a mix of doubt and wariness; Kai looked genuinely terrified for him. Cassie and Nephis both showed a flicker of deep worry. Nephis took a step toward him, her mouth opening to argue, but she stopped herself. She remembered the deal they had made minutes ago. Independence meant he got to choose his own battles.
But what everyone shared was a trace of uncertainity. That was how deeply rooted the name of Harus had been carved into the collective subcioncious of the Outer Settlement. It was almost a Law: No one survived an encounted with Harus.
And yet, the same Harus was closing in. They had seconds to decide. Finally, Nephis looked him in the eye. "Are you sure?"
"I am," Zachary said with a firm nod. He looked at Effie again. "Go. It shouldn't take me long."
Without waiting for a goodbye, he dashed back toward the district they had just left, veering slightly onto a side path he had scouted during his week of preparation.
As he ran, Zachary reached for the longsword at his waist and began unfastening the bandages. His plans. The past week. Everything. It was for this moment. The second and most important move of his plan.
This encounter would determine how the Bright Castle moved in his absence.
The final layer of cloth fell to the pavement. The shining blade of the Flame of the West greeted the Nameless Sun, the metal humming with a poorly contained, white-hot intensity.
Zachary took a final, heavy step onto the main road, the stone cracking slightly under his weight. And with a sigh and an excited smile he finally said.
"Time to deal with a hunchback..."