A lot of things had happened sense Lowen’s death. A lot of places had been visited, a lot of space and time had been put between them to help cushion the events for the lycanthrope…and yet…it still felt as if she had bled out in his arms not minutes previous. The quest with Raquar and the Hot Springs seemed like storybook blurs, things that had only occurred in his own head. Zan had left the Freedom Fighters to, in the end, go and help this new group - the Eventide Crescendo. There was a lot of blood on his hands, lives that he had taken in the heat of his numb vengeance. For the most part, Zan was overcome with regret, with guilt for his actions. He had murdered, over and over, and deserved to be faced with such emotions. The other portion of him, however small, was sated by his violence. The Beast still licked the blood from its metaphorical lips, memories of severed limbs and popping heads serving to elate it into yowls and howls. It was because of this part that the Heavy Blade knew he couldn’t be with the Freedom Fighters…not for a little while. Despite how much he cared for them, for their protection and their success, in the end it was all done for his own means. In the end, he did it to find a permanent way out of ‘The World.’

The trio of golden rings dropped the lycanthrope off in the midst of a busy city night, or so it always looked to be, with such thoughts still shifting within his mind. The Eventide Crescendo would be a good place for him, if only for a single outing. His actions there would be selfless, would be helping for the sake of helping. Zan hoped that, in doing so, he’d begin to feel the weight on his heart ease a little. Some, the doctors, he refused to feel bad about. Maybe their actions didn’t earn them their executions, but it was enough to allow him some neutral non-concern. The others, the security guards, hadn’t known what they were defending. It was their deaths that he hauled around with him like an iron wrecking ball latched to his ankle. The Lycan inwardly begged for their forgiveness as he made his way across the crowd of players and to the street’s edges where, below, glassy black water moved with subtle waves. Did he deserve such a thing, to be absolved? Not yet. Maybe not ever. Still, Zan had vowed when Sekai told him of the Eventides’ plight to help those who needed it, even if - and especially because - it did nothing to further his own goals of freedom from the game. If nothing else, it’d serve as his memorial for the guards he had struck down. His actions would be their requiem.

How did he spend the rest of his time? It wouldn’t be too long now before the Eventide Crescendo met up and went to the next of the fields on their list. The Heavy Blade knew he could just wait, maybe enjoy the breeze in Dun Loireag or the eternal sunset of Mac Anu, but he didn’t really want to. The Lycan wanted to be strong and, above all else, aptly prepared to take on whatever madness the group did. The way Sekai made it sound, what they faced wasn’t too dissimilar to what the Freedom Fighters did. The unknown factor that rested in the degree of danger had him unable to really stand still, constantly shifting in his stance and his position as his Siberian Husky blues continued to linger over the dark waters. An idle thought passed its way through the werewolf’s head, one that turned his gaze to stare questioningly at the Chaos Gate, before he dismissed it outright. There was no way he had time to go grab a level or two in a field…right? Going for a grind in some random compilation of three keywords seemed far too random, for too normal to be a wise use of his time.

And yet he couldn’t let the thought go.

The possibility of going to a place where he could vent his grief, where he could mourn with violence and not actually kill anything real, was too tempting to simply shove down and forget. Zan shifted to face the swirling gold gate with a new level of consideration. Maybe…maybe he could get it done in time. After all, he wasn’t going to be there to screw around or anything like that. It would be strict training, strict bag n’ tag until he had garnered himself some advancement and was ready to leave. Why not, right?

Sounds like it could be fun to me. You better let me out, asshole. After going through your head, seeing what they did to her…I have a little venting to do myself.

By his tone, Nulus seemed to have stumbled upon the memories only recently. You only see that now? I was wondering why you were so cheery in the Hot Springs.

When you left, I just stopped…being. I don’t know how to explain it. One moment we’re in the Hideout, you thinking about leaving, and the next we’re coming back. I knew that whatever happened was big…and I didn’t feel like facing it right away, alright? I was still recovering from the whole ‘blinking out of existence’ thing.

Zan slid his hands in his pockets, relaxing a little. So that’s what happened.

Yeah, jackass, that’s what happened.

The Lycan paused. So you do care about her. You know, you shifting your element has made quite the drastic change. You’re an asshole, but you aren’t heartless. Not anymore.

Nulus, in his mind, indulged a dry laugh. I used to be a mindless fucking animal, Zan. The transition from that to something human isn’t smooth, especially when the animal was made from wolf and the basest desires humanity has to offer.

Zan blinked. Er…sorry. He felt like he should have said something more, but…you know…fuck it. It’s Nulus.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s just go to this field so we can kick ass and take names. And set those names on fire. A pause. Twice.

The lycanthrope was a few steps towards his destination when a wayward catch of sound paused him. Stray oinks echoed inside of Zan’s head, inclining him towards the Grunty Farm as their source. They weren’t noises anyone from his part of the city would hear, not easily anyway (what with the hustle and bustle of the busy server), but the Heavy Blade’s amplified senses bypassed such an obstacle. At first, he didn’t know why he had stopped, didn’t know what about the grunties had him as stilled as he was. Then, not a second later, and the name ‘Leo’ popped into his head. It wasn’t his best friend he was recalling - was Leo even his friend anymore after all that happened back in the real world? - but the full grown grunty that held his namesake. Before Nulus could even begin to argue what a potential waste of time it was, Zan slid up the long leather sleeve of his coat and gave the glaring, flaming green eyes a look of his own that hinted at a firm ‘don’t even.’ Surprisingly, Nulus kept quiet.

The werewolf had purchased Leo and his army of grunty food after first purging himself of the Plures Vultus Mortis virus and binding with Nulus to do so. It technically hadn’t been that long since he had seen the guy, but the last time had been during the creature’s baby stage. Now the little piglet should have been sporting the armor and weapons Zan had chosen for him via the Grunty Farm NPC’s inquiry when the full-grown sale had been made. Growing tired of the looks he was already being given now that his scarred face was now in the light of the streetlamps, the lycanthrope did everyone a favor and pulled up his hood. The black trenchcoat’s leather creaked a bit in the process, but drowned out the passing whispers in turn. Having his face submerged in shadow offered a sort of peace then, much like it had when the disfigurement was first being dealt with. A small part of him felt like he was defeating himself by giving into their judgments, but it was small enough to ignore as he arrived at, and passed, the Chaos Gate on his way to the Farm.

In the city night’s artificial shine, its arrangement changing with each dull thud of Zan’s black combat boots as he continued to weave through the ignorant masses, the werewolf’s full moon necklace almost seemed to glow. The chain itself was one of tiny sterling spheres leading to the silver circle of the moon at the center, one that hung just below the center of his throat’s hollow. There were times when the Lycan almost forgot it was there. Having had it as long as he had, it had become a part of him. Technically, it acted as his key into the Shadow. On a more sentimental level? It acted as a reminder of what his emotions, what his Beast could bring to ‘The World’ if he didn’t keep it in check. The first time the necklace was used…it was the same day Zan ended up single handedly decimating his pack and leaving himself the soul Garou in all of the game. Well, there were others that were in some sort of prison, but Lowen had put them all away for a reason and the Heavy Blade liked to consider them dead too. He trusted her judgment. Either way, the day was burned into his memory as associated with the discovery of the necklace’s use.

Though Zan’s instincts as a predator and his keen senses usually made him constantly aware of his surroundings, the city’s noise pollution and his own distraction with the necklace (looking down as he was) prevented him from noticing the person he was about to run into before it was too late. Both of them sprawled out at the T-intersection that separated Lambda’s Grunty Farm and the corral where the grunties themselves were kept. The Heavy Blade’s impact noise was something akin to an off while his victim chose something closer to a surprised squeal. Something about her pitch, it was a her that he had run into, and her smell made his eyes flare in disbelief. No…it couldn’t be. Not her. Not now.

“Hey, watch where you’re go-!” Getting to her feet, the woman stopped as soon as she took a second to lay her hardened lavender gaze upon him.

She was clad in an outfit not too dissimilar from Zan’s own, if only in color scheme. Black boots (hers a bit more sleek, more feminine) led up to tight-fitting, black leather pants. They hugged her hips perfectly…seductively. The woman’s shirt, one fashioned of cloth and a dark purple dye, did the same for her moderate, yet shapely chest. The moment Zan realized he was noticing such details, guilt swelled inside of his gut. The rest of his observations occurred in a blink: over her shirt, she still wore the sleeveless, black leather trenchcoat, her hair was still short (an inch or two past her ears) and raven in pitch with a single bundle of dark purple highlights along the right side, black leather (both of them obvious fans of the material) gloves that extended all the way just below her elbow, and the purple flower tattoos along the outer sides of both of her arms. Well…actually…the flowers were different. Rather than the wolfsbane they used to be, they were purple Scabious in visage. The Lycan only recognized them because of what little information on botany he recalled from the constant lectures of his next door neighbor as a kid. She used to insist on rambling on and on about things Zan had never thought he’d be able to use.

Funny how things work out.

“Atra.” The Heavy Blade practically spat the name. “Are you following me?”

Still reminiscent of their last encounter, it seemed, the tough-girl demeanor was hardly placed into position. Though she could not see his face, it was clear she was trying to as she spoke. “No…I was just…” She sighed, obviously annoyed at her own fluster. “No. I wasn’t.”

The werewolf laughed something bitter. “No, of course not. It’s just everyday people who hate each other cross paths in a heavily populated Root Town.”

For a second, she almost seemed hurt. “I don’t hate…” Again, she sighed. This time, however, it served to restore her usual ‘I’m a hardass’ posture. “Forget it. I don’t owe anything to you. Have a nice life.”

Atra had only gotten a step past him when, recalling the company she used to work for and the partner in crime who had disfigured his face, Zan’s hand was suddenly around her arm, the hold used to whip her violently around to face him with a spark of rage that flared within him like a supernova. “You owe me EVERYTHING.” Glacial blue eyes had erupted into the amber glow of the wolf, inhuman irises shining through the darkness and boring down on her like bloodthirsty drills.

The frail composure of her harsh exterior crumbled beneath the force of his anger and the weight of his blazing eyes. “W-What the hell is the matter with you?!” Zan’s grip tightened, the strain of the bone beneath sounding in subtle groans within the sharpness of his hearing. Atra stifled a whimper. “Stop! You’re h-hurting me!”

The werewolf barked out laughter in response, completely oblivious to the halted (and quickly parting, what with the obviously unnatural and hacked hue of his eyes) crowd around him as he tugged the slightly tanned woman within an inch of him. “I’m hurting YOU?! Can you even begin to FATHOM what you have done to me? What PAIN you were a part of?” When she didn’t answer, when her eyes only began to grow wider, the irises shrinking, Zan snarled. “CAN YOU?!”

Atra almost seemed to wither beneath it all. “I-I…I d-don’t…” She fumbled for her words, something that only stoked the flames of the lycanthrope’s rage.

It had come upon him so quickly…too quickly. No matter how well he thought he was, no matter how much he suspected himself to be adjusting, there was a distinct fuse in his brain waiting to be lit; a switch waiting to be flipped. All it took was the smallest physical reminder of Wolfsbane, of the group that had captured and killed the girl he loved…and he was losing it.

“‘I-I, I d-don’t…’ Not such a big girl without CyberConnect backing you anymore, are you Atra? ARE YOU?!” Zan didn’t even notice the claws that had begun to cap the ends of his fingers. “No, you’re just another frightened doe skittering away from the wolf. Did you not think you’d see me again? Did you not think YOU’D HAVE TO FACE YOUR PUNISHMENT?!” Those same claws began to dig into her skin, trickling rivulets of blood down his fingers.

Pain tears stung her eyes as, again, she fought to make logical words. “S-Stop, damn it! Get your fucking hands off of m-”

She never got to finish her sentence, the hand on her arm releasing the limb, only for the back of his other to collide with the side of her face and toss her through the air with his preternatural strength, the impact at which she hit the ground forcing her to roll a bit before she stopped weakly on her stomach.

I never thought I’d be the one saying this, Zanny boy, but you should calm- The Shade attempted to chime in.

SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. And Nulus did.

The blossoming sadist was surprised that her jaw hadn’t broken, hadn’t even dislocated, but her luck was bound to run out. Before he could waltz up and inspect her, however, some chivalrous Wavemaster attempted to step between them.

“Leave her alone, hacker! I’ll kill you if I have to!”

Before the player could blink, Zan’s hand was suddenly enveloping his face in a harsh grip not unlike the one he had held Atra with moments before. “Oh please.” Uninterested, the lycanthrope ended the stranger’s life with a quick jerk of his hand to the side, one that not only broke several vertebrae in the avatar’s neck but tore apart most of the flesh surrounding it. When the corpse grayed and fell to the city ground, its head was only kept on by a thread.

By the time he had made it to Atra, she had roused her dizzied vision and balance enough to lift herself up a bit on one gloved hand. It was just enough to allow her to turn her eyes towards him, one of them half-hidden in the jungle of her tousled black locks. Her lip had split - wide - and was offering a steady drip of crimson that made his inner wolf lick its chops. God help him, Zan did too.

The moment he got beside her, looming over her as a dark figure in the overcast glow of the streetlamps, the anger on her face began to invigorate anew. Something about being manhandled had triggered that pride. “Oh boo-fucking-hoo, Zan! So my lackey scarred your face! So what?! It’s not even your real God damn one!” The Lycan was momentarily stopped by her renewal, giving her the momentum to continue. “And yeah, I killed your AI friend, Gemini. I’d say I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t give a shit.” She turned her head and spit a glob of blood onto the cobblestone. “I lost touch, okay? I was comatose a lot longer than you had been when that happened, comrade. That does things to your head, makes you forget the scope of what you’re involved in. I made mistakes. I fucking admit that.” When she tried to get to her feet, Zan didn’t stop her. He was listening. Brushing herself off and wiping her lip, she continued. “I’ve changed, things have changed. So go grieve about the AI elsewhere, you stupid son of a bitch.”

Whatever reason had begun to filter it’s way back into Zan was lost when he realized she didn’t even know why he was upset. She knew. She was just toying with him. She had to know. Didn’t the whole world feel it? A snap of motion and the werewolf’s clawed hand was wrapped around her throat, digging in, squeezing the life from her body. If he killed her in a Root Town, would she ghost? Would someone be able to save her? Would he just end of giving her a Game Over and, doubting she was in a party, effectively kill her in the real world as well?

All and none of that raced through his mind as he spoke through gritted teeth, teeth that had begun to sharpen into lethal fangs as he slipped ever further. “You think this is about Gemini? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Atra attempted to fight against the hand at her throat and should she have drawn her weapon and struck she would have been fine, but her own logic was escaping as he was hoisted up and dangled by the singular strength of his hand. “S-So it’s about your girlfriend, about Low-”

A sound that wasn’t human, not even remotely, ripped its way from Zan’s throat. “YOU DON’T GET TO SAY THAT NAME!”

For a moment, he cut squeezed hard enough to cut off what little oxygen she was getting, but something in him wanted to hear what she had to say about it. Call it masochism. “I’m s-sorry they have her, okay! Why d-don’t you stop w-wasting your time with…” She had to pause and squirm for more air. “…with me and actually find a w-way to help h-her!”

That same heart-stopping, unnatural noise tore into the air from his altered vocal cords. “BECAUSE SHE’S FUCKING DEAD, YOU DUMB BITCH. YOUR OLD GROUP SHOT HER DOWN AND SHE BLED OUT IN MY FUCKING ARMS.”

As the crowd gawked on, most too wary to simply approach him and others too invested to call an Admin to stop it, Atra’s eyes softened and she stopped struggling…a little. “Oh G-God…Zan, I-I…I didn’t know…”

And just like that, the sympathy in her eyes gave his humanity what it needed to break the surface of his wolf, something that allowed him to reclaim his control and retract the claws and dim his eyes into normality. A second later and he lowered her and let her go, shaking leather gloves placed over the nail wounds in her neck. Zan couldn’t seem to look at her after that, his form almost dragging itself over to the Chaos Gate. Before he spoke the random assortment of words, ones he knew would get him a field near his level, he turned his head towards the downed woman…and almost said something. His mouth opened and closed before silence was chosen as the better option and the three keywords were hastily snapped at the swirl of gold and blue. How close he had gotten to losing himself to the Beast once more…

He was scared. Of himself.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

As the trio of golden rings delivered him onto the field, Zan felt a small amount of the previous event’s weight lift from him. Not having so many eyes on him anymore, not having them judge him when he was busy doing that to himself was something of a relief. The lycanthrope simply couldn’t fool himself any longer. Though he had thought himself grieved to his fullest, that he was now dealing with the acceptance period, Zan was quickly learning that his emotions weren’t so mastered as that. Some part of him, probably a larger part than he was giving credit, was still torn asunder at the loss of the only girl he had ever loved. No human being escaped the events he did - Lowen shot and dying while he held her, the apathetic massacre that had followed at his hands - without real damage to their hearts and their minds. The Lycan wished that he could crawl into the comforting arms of insanity, a world he used to belong to, but knew that his time for such had passed. Like it or not, his trip down psychosis lane had strengthened him and was serving as some sort of mental antibody against a relapse. Rather than fall into that void, he was left dealing with it like the other majority of the populace - sick with despair, with the loss, and breathing his way from second to second.

It took an explosion of anger, fueled by the Beast, for him to realize such feelings still existed within him. What worried him more than that was the fact that, at the present, he felt fine once more. It was hard to fight something he couldn’t see, that he couldn’t even confront. The same portion of his being that kept his continued sadness locked away was doing so again. What happened if he was triggered again while with the Eventides? Would they be able to trust someone so easily nudged towards rage’s cliff? Better yet, should they? The control that Zan had fought so dearly for, that he had paid for in blood, now seemed to be slipping from him. As much as he wanted to rely on Sekai’s ability to calm the Beast, he knew that responsibility demanded he take actions much, much sooner. But what, who could jimmy the lock he had placed over his own heart? What would it take? The inquiry, almost immediately, had his mind flashing on images of Sekai and recollections of the compassion and understanding she had given him in the past. They were supposed to meet up before the meeting with the group…maybe then he’d show her the kind of person he really was.

Giving Raquar a handful of his memories, of his experiences had served to alleviate the sensation of isolation he had been dealing with. Even with his surrogate pack, the Freedom Fighters, Zan found that he felt alone, like no one really knew him. The only person that did, that had at least seen a portion of his trials, was gone. Dien was off fighting something unknown, exploring a mystery that he hadn’t thought prudent to let the werewolf in on. Perhaps it was for the best. Either way, it left the Heavy Blade feeling cut off. Letting the Long Arm in on Lowen, on what had happened and events even further back, had definitely helped. Still, the lycanthrope knew that he had held back, that he hadn’t given his friend everything. Despite his befuddlement on why exactly he couldn’t face his own depression, why it hid from him, he knew that letting go of the last of his inhibitions and allowing someone to see every portion of who he was would finally give him a handle on his own reactions once again.

Though it was possible that this could be accomplished through going back to Raquar, Zan didn’t feel comfortable with that. There were things that he needed to show that he simply couldn’t to his fellow Freedom Fighter…and he didn’t know why. Those same things were, despite the usual anxieties, parts that he knew he could let the Archer see. Sekai was a unique member of humanity in every angle of the concept. Not only did she display kindness, often, but she seemed almost to be tempered from it like some sort of pacifist’s blade (as much of a contradiction such a thing was). Though, through the happenings at the Hot Springs, Zan knew she had faced real darkness…she hadn’t stopped giving back to ‘The World’. Nothing demanded it of her, nothing obligated her to do what she did…she just did it. She was the first to look upon his scars not with shock or dismay, or even pity, but sympathy. Hell, it was empathy. She had equally disfiguring scars, they just weren’t on the outside.

That, the werewolf realized, was another reason he felt so able to show her what he would need to. They could relate to one another, they could understand and level in a way that only those like them could. Raquar couldn’t understand because his trials in the world had existed in a different metaphorical arena. It wasn’t his fault, it didn’t make him less than them, it just made him in a different system altogether.

With that decision made, the plan formulated to use his blood to show Sekai everything, Zan was ready to focus on the original reason he had come to the field. It hadn’t been to escape Atra and his actions, though it had morphed into that, but rather to physically prepare himself to be at the top of his game for the mission he had assigned himself. Protecting the members of the Eventide Crescendo would occupy his time, would be of the utmost importance. Through them, he hoped, he’d win some good cosmic karma. God knew he could use it.

The Heavy Blade’s panic had dropped him into a field type that, usually, he liked to avoid. Unlike a lot of the people he ran into, fire and such weren’t amongst his list of battleground preferences. Through a sheer lack of luck, or the royally fucked karma he was trying to restore, Zan had warped to a magma field. The entire span of the ground was riddled with cracks in-between dark black-red volcanic rock, cracks that pulsed with running lava beneath. The sky was blotted out with smoke and ash, a combination that made it notably difficult to breathe. The player’s lycanthropic stamina would allow him endurance against such, not to mention the sweltering heat, but it wouldn’t allow him even an inch of comfort. Spread out evenly around him, if a bit sparsely, were the dead husks of what used to be trees. Their smoldering remains had them dried and withered, a sight that was almost depressing. Zan’s affinity for Juk, something that had begun to grow as of late, made seeing such things difficult. He wasn’t so silly as to mourn the loss of trees, per se, but it seemed like such a waste…

Still, the Heavy Blade knew there was still more to explore. A surveying glance of the field around him, done with amber eyes so as to garner him an even further range of sight, revealed no waiting Monster Portals, thankfully. It had been why he had come here, sure, but that didn’t mean he wanted to check things out a bit first. Knowing his surroundings was key in keeping his ground. Like he had told Raquar in their quest together: ‘In a fight, if you lose your balance, you lose.’ Though not universally applicable, it always seemed to be in combat situations that really mattered. Any moment he had slipped up with the Elites had damned him for periods long enough to serve as lessons. Before he walked any further, the Lycan allowed Nulus to manifest beside him, the action forcing the glowing green eyes on his metal cuffs slam shut.

The Shade stretched, if a bit overdramatically. “I thought you’d never let me out, douchebag.”

Zan laughed. “Call me a douchebag again and I’ll be sure to change my mind.”

Rather than challenge the threat, Nulus chose instead to proceed mimicking the remark in a blatantly mocking fashion that was both a good impression and oddly entertaining. There had a been a time, Zan recalled, that such snarkiness on the First’s behalf would have earned him a glare and a mounted level of annoyance. It was probably a bad move on his part, but he was starting to get used to Nulus’ sense of humor, was starting to enjoy their back-and-forth. For one reason or another, though the Heavy Blade figured it was the impending monster violence that was more or less unavoidable, the Shade had come out in his actual form instead of disguising himself as a human player. They walked together as the rest of the field’s details were absorbed. Every now and then, they’d come across old Mayan statues crafted of the same stone as the ground or rock formations that sported mini-volcano spouts. Each spout bubbles and threatened to spit magma at the duo, so Zan and Nulus were sure to keep their distance. They were interesting to watch, but not enough to melt away their flesh with.

“Grunt Mint!” The grunty food called out from its rocky perch, but Zan and his companion ignored it.

“You know, this field is-”

“GRUNT mint!”

“-actually kind-”

“Grunt MINT!”
“-of interesting. I didn’t think I’d-”

“GRUNT MINT!”

“ALRIGHT. I GET IT. YOU’RE A FUCKING GRUNT MINT. YOU’RE GRUNTY. YOU’RE MINTY. YOU’RE A FUCKING MUTANT OF BOTH. NOW, PLEASE, GO EAT SHIT AND DIE.”

“…”

“…”

“…grunt mi-”

“ARRRRRRRRRRRG!” Flipping his proverbial shit, the Shade flew over to the creature and proceeded make a Grunt Mint salad out of its quickly-decimated corpse.

When Nulus returned, grumbling within the darkness of his hood, Zan chose not to comment. It was both the funniest and the most horrifying thing he had ever seen between a player (the First was that…ish) and a piece of grunty food. The air between the duo adventurers wasn’t as awkward as it should have been…which is the only reason it was remotely awkward in the first place. It was in contemplating this that the Lycan almost missed the swirling Monster Portal ahead. The Shade stopped their progression with a lofted, knife-finger hand upon his companion’s chest. Puzzled, Zan looked up in time to spot the thing before they actually triggered it. Both teammates exchanged nods that clearly stated, ‘Let’s do this.’ The werewolf was here to level, after all. That wasn’t going to be accomplished if he just waltzed around the field all day and let Nulus silence all the Grunt Mints around. A single step onward was all it took to trigger the spinning masses of golden energy and release their contents.

Four beasts spilled out from the fractured magical prison, four that Zan had never had the opportunity to see before. Their tags labeled them as ‘Mummy Scissors’ with a tolerance for Juk. Well alright then. The monsters themselves looked fairly nimble and humanoid with a trio of long, metal claws extending from the weapons on each of their hands. Smugly, Nulus laughed, obviously unimpressed as he lofted his own weapons - his fingers - into an offensive, preparatory stance. Having grown used to the sword, the Heavy Blade’s pointy stick of choice came in the form of the Ghostdancer. It was nearing its end as a useful tool, having stronger weapons as he did, but the memory of its past uses made him want to give it one last go. The thing resembled a tree of some sort, what with its blade branched out here and there, but that had come in handy several times in the past…about as many times as it had been a hindrance. Whoever had programmed the Heavy Blade class’ weapons was either a genius or a moron…for some of them, anyway.

Cautiously, wanting to get a sense of how the monster’s fought, both Zan and Nulus began to take steps back. The group of fiends spread out to evenly accommodate them, two divided up for each. The lycanthrope had grown to expect a sort of menace from his opponents, something that was usual when you trounced through Elite fields manned by hacked lackeys and code-manipulated beasts. Something about the Mummy Scissors put him at easy in much the same way his combat experiences in the recent duo with Raquar did. They were just there to function in the game, to act out the part of antagonists and earn him experience and loot. They didn’t think for themselves. They didn’t want to turn him inside out or mount him on their wall as yet another of their trophies. They held no hatred for him, no ill will. They did as they did, pursued him as they were currently doing, because that’s all they would ever be meant to do. The simplicity of it was…bliss.

If the Mummy Scissors were nothing else, they were nimble and acrobatic as all hell. The moment they came within striking distance and saw that the Ghostdancer was held at the ready, both summersaulted gracefully through the air, leaving him staring in mild shock and surprise. They may have just been computer programs, not designed to do real damage like the ones he was so used to, but they were good computer programs. What more could he expect from high leveled monsters? Smirking, Zan bolted in, the massive reach of the blade used in a horizontal sweep that attempted to cleave both fiends in half. Again they moved, this time choosing to slip by on ground rolls. They came back to their feet just as the strike came full circle, something that temporarily had the werewolf’s flank exposed. Not hesitating, both charged him with claw-weapons drawn and ready to tear into him like he felt he currently deserved. After all, such a reckless attack on his part had opened him up to such a thing. Just because they were normal monsters didn’t mean they could be fought half-assed.

Beside Zan, Nulus was learning similar lessons. Having chosen to rely on the usual hack-and-slash attacks of his eight-inch claws, the Shade found them too quick and too evasive to land such strategy-lacking blows. He was fairly maneuverable himself, however, and was able to use his Twin-Blade-like stats to keep the enemy at bay while he reconsidered his tactics. Sadly, the Heavy Blade lacked such a luxury and was forced instead to think on his feet - not exactly new for him. Thanks to his strength, Zan was able to wield his weapon as quickly as a Blademaster would a one-handed sword, but the problem resided not in time…but distance. Their rolls had brought the Mummy Scissors within a foot or two of either of his sides. He knew, in a fraction of consideration, that he’d only be able to hit one. Snarling out his conviction, Zan followed through with the rapidly-formulated plan, six feet of jagged metal dragged along the magma floor to fling up and along the open chest of one of them. The force of it, of both Heavy Blade and werewolf might combined, vaulted the fiend awkwardly through the air and left the lycanthrope to deal with his remaining problem.

There was simply no time to turn around, to face what was only a heartbeat away from colliding with him and digging steel into his flesh. Dropping the weighty piece of war, Zan threw all of his muscle, all of his agility backwards into a flip most in his class couldn’t execute; yet another gift from Twilight. The creature scuttled past him in momentum-filled confusion, unable to stop when it originally recognized his absence. Though the Lycan lacked a weapon in his hand, the distance could be covered with little effort. Smirking, a hand was outstretched in his opponent’s direction, the Mummy Scissors’ resumed scuffle ignored as the incantation was spoken, electric energy crackling from his fingertips and into his palm.

“Rai Don!”

Not a moment after the decorative rune etched itself below the monster, a bolt of supercharged electrical power tore its way down to land perfectly upon the thing’s conductive weaponry. It morphed into an entity of spasms and involuntary convulsions that allowed Zan to retrieve his weapon from the magma floor without endangering himself. Sure, a Gan spell would have been more effective against such a foe, but the player simply hadn’t had enough time to swap out the proper equipment. Not mulling over it any longer, Zan casually approached the calming Mummy Scissor, held the weapon in both hands, turned the blade downward, and slammed it through the monster and into the magma floor beneath. A fountain of foul-smelling of blood hit the air once…then stopped. The moment the Ghostdancer was removed, the Lycan’s opponent dissolved into digital memory. Sadly, Zan was halfway through a smile before he remembered there was one more and was subsequently tackled to the floor, dual-clawed fists arched up for an assault. Once again, the werewolf’s blade was gone from his grasp, forcing him to use more unorthodox measures.

He punched it in the face.

An inhuman hiss of pain met the strike, its hands reflexively snapping up to guard its face from another attack, completely forgetting that it was the one with the straddled advantage. Unfortunately, being on the end of disadvantage, Zan couldn’t hit it anywhere that would dislodge it from atop him. Sure, he could just use brute force to wittle its hit points down to desolation if he wanted to, but that opened up the chance for it to break out of defensive mode and proceed to disfigure his face even more than it already was. The lycanthrope needed finesse, needed to make a single, solid hit that would free him of the awkward situation. Then he realized what would do the trick.

“Ap Torv.”

The combating duo’s space on the ground was alight with magic, the invigorating warmth of it coursing through him and finding its way to settle on his already-advanced senses…and he saw it; a single, minute gap below the panicked ‘X’ the Mummy Scissors’ claws were making. Zan’s own lycanthropic sensory abilities would have given him what he needed to make the attack successful, but the spell had given him the previously lacking knowledge of just where he needed to focus. Without hesitation, the werewolf’s funneled fingers shot through the weak spot, the unguarded fraction and grabbed hold of the monster’s clothes (were they…bandages or something?) and actually yanked him closer. Startled, the Mummy Scissors dropped its claws, tilting its head a moment before Zan simply shoved it off to fling away on the ground a little ways away. The lust for battle that he had tasted when first planning out the trip into the field had been spoiled by his meeting with Atra. It was because of this that he swapped the Wyrm Hide into his equipment, granting him an ability, a spell that would allow the fight to end without further adieu.

“Gan Don!”

The incantation was shouted as he rose to his feet, seeming to move with muscles that no human had. The Mummy Scissors had no chance, the monster only beginning its recovery when the rain of rocks began to strike its form over and over again. The ELEMENTAL CRITICAL that appeared above it as one boulder cracked its skull was enough to finish it off. Digital glyphs and flowing binary signaled its dissipation, something that left Zan with a vague sense that he was forgetting something all of a sudden. It hadn’t been recent, no. It felt like an old obligation, an old thought. The Lycan vaguely remembered something about Angel’s mansion, about something he had discovered while they traversed it. God damn it…what was it?

“The book.” Nulus replied flatly, unbothered by his intrusion into Zan’s thoughts as he wiped his dirtied claws onto his cloak.

The lycanthrope turned around, Ghostdancer taken in hand as he noted his companion’s mutual victory. “The book? What book?”

Though Zan couldn’t see beneath the Shade’s hood, he could feel him giving a ‘are you kidding me?’ look. “Oh, I don’t know. Only the one that’s written about the deleted server that housed my creation, the same server that was home to the programming of your hack and the masterpiece of a man who…if the memories you consumed from the blood are correct…murdered your namesake and played mad scientist with you and Lowen as kids.”

The Heavy Blade had gotten the point about halfway through and had, more or less, drowned out the rest. The book…the fucking book, that’s right. Was it really about the same thing? It’s title, ‘The Shadow of The World’, could have easily been some pseudo-poetic reference or otherwise equally intellectual bullshit. There was only one way to find out. Approaching a sizeable rock formation, punting the occupying Grunt Mint away before Nulus could flip out again, Zan sat down and withdrew the item from his inventory. On the outside, it was nothing special. It was the typical leather exterior with a semi-fancy font scribbling out its title on the cover and the spine. Running a calloused hand down the tome, the Lycan found himself hesitating. A questioning look was lofted to his partner, one that only earned him a nonchalant shrug. No matter what front the Shade put on, the player’s connection to him granted him the lingering insight that Nulus would have much preferred to drop the subject altogether. The First’s memories of the Shadow were not pleasant, let alone entirely coherent. Now that Nulus had the human intellect to reflect on the horror of his situation, of the mindlessness he had once possessed, it was something that would given him nightmares…if he ever slept.

“Maybe…maybe this is unnecessary. I mean, if it’s a book, it’s probably some stupid, overdramatic tale that houses the Shadow as its setting, right? Doesn’t seem like it’d be worth the time, not time I could use training some more.”

Again, Nulus shrugged. “It’s up to you. This is the last free time you’ll have before the Eventide Crescendo gathers and we have to bail. How you want to spend it is your deal.” A note of finality ended the discussion.

A last mumble of ‘fuck it’ from Zan and the cover was cracked open to reveal a table of contents the Heavy Blade was too impatient to read over. Flipping another page, he found himself staring down at an introduction to a journal by a player named ‘Weil’…not a novel.

For a while, Zan could only…blink. It was almost as if he did so in fear that, should he stop motion forever, his brain might melt out of his ears. Some kid had, through some act or another, gotten comatose and his Twilight ability (or some other bizarre anomaly) had yanked him into the Shadow? Of all the unfortunate places to be trapped…the Heavy Blade couldn’t help but pity him a little. The place was so fractured, so broken in portions that it’d be like a prison within a prison; redundant and awful. Still…the Lycan couldn’t help but feel like he now had some well of information in his hands. Rather than an overdone, fictional rendition of the server, the book contained what he believed might lead him to…something. It was hard to point out, hard to describe. It was almost as if, with the promise of enlightenment about the Shadow, some withered part of his Twilight had perked its ears. Something within him, the same something that contained knowledge about his condition that he’d never know, was urging him to read further. Why not?

Again, Zan found himself paused. Just from those few paragraphs, he had been confronted with new information and one familiar memory. The fact that the Shadow was the intended ‘Zeta’ server and had multiple Root Towns present throughout were just a few of the newly-gleamed facts that had him wondering. The fact that the server now had yet another Greek representation made it seem more…real. The small part of him that always related to visiting the Shadow to a dream now felt a little at ease. As he read over the portion about Gateways, he couldn’t help but recall the Blights, the place he had been forced to trudge through in order to meet Lowen for the first time. Good memories mingled with the bad…and he turned the page to the next portion. Headed with the word ‘Key Places’, it induced another ping of eager anxiety in the bottom of the Heavy Blade’s gut, made him feel a hunger for more.

There were more, but the lycanthrope found his eyes lingering around the reference to the 'Wylds' and the 'Warden Wolf.' Both seemed familiar to him in a way that he couldn't quite comprehend. The Warden Wolf...its origins felt like they were on the tip of his tongue, like the figure’s identification was right there, right there and he couldn’t quite grasp it. If nothing else, he knew it was important. That dormant part of him, the one his struggle with the Beast had subdued, was starting to stir. It acknowledged the Den, as Zan himself did. Weil had apparently seen Lowen and the rest of the Four back in the day, back before Zan’s self-loathing had resulted in the death of the entire pack. Such a thing gave the werewolf a sense of time, of when the journal was written. If it was before Zan’s first visit, Weil had completed it quite a while ago. Its mention of the Blights again brought up memories best ignored, flashes of his mother’s suicide and his ‘Big Truth’, that he did his best to shrug off.

Malfaes, though he had never been there, had left its blessing upon him. The thought brought hesitant fingers to the scarred, left side of his face. Despite that, Zan wanted to visit there should he ever free up some more time. Why? Who knew? Maybe it was some sort of pointless bravado, something he hoped would allow him to face one of the most hated events he had experienced in his time within The World.

Pings of obligation, like he owed it to the Shadow to read on, began to fill him up until his fingers seemed to work of their own accord. There had to be more than bad reminders in the journal. Flipping past more of the key places, he eventually rested on the next section: Inhabitants.

An unidentifiable hostility filled him as he read over the entries of the Fahmor and the Quorum. The fact that his Twilight was responding to the words when he himself was still in the dark about why was beginning to bother him. More importantly, Zan couldn’t help but wonder why Lowen never explained any of it to him. Sure, he had met the Fahmor in what he now knew was called the ‘Judus Maw’, but the Quorum…they made his Beast uneasy, made it want to lash out. A protective flare for the Shadow imbued him…and he moved on. The rest of the general inhabitants entries were ignored, for right then, and the next section was read.

Now Zan was filled with a rage he understood, one that didn’t lie in some unrealized portion of his psyche. The inhabitants of the Shadow, the Vagrants thought Michael was some sort of god? He was no god, no anything but an evil son of a bitch. Hell, even humanity was too high above him, too righteous for the kind of things he was capable of. The fact that millions more were like him, were able to do the kinds of things he did, was a fact that the Heavy Blade didn’t give heed to right then. It was easier to see Michael as some sort of devil, some kind of hellspawn that lived to be hated and destroyed. After all, whenever Michael Grahm’s name was brought up, all Zan could think were two words: hunt and kill. The pain he had caused him, had caused Lowen and who knows how many others…his victims cried out for vindication. The Lycan knew then, more than ever, that he would be the tool of retribution that would eventually bring wipe Michael from existence. A god? Please. More like a blood stain on Zan’s blade.

“Heyyyy, I’m famous!” Nulus exclaimed, clawed hands tossed above his massive, seven-foot stature.

Zan mumbled something incoherent and continued to read.

While the entry on the Four made him feel nostalgic, and simultaneously guilty, it was the previous one that captured the real extent of his focus. Who was it? Was it someone Zan had faced before…is that why he or she seemed so familiar? Had it been Lowen? If so…why had she allowed the Fahmor and the Quorum to grow as rampant as they were? It seemed too irresponsible to be her doing. If such creatures managed to fight the gap between the Shadow and the rest of The World? The results could be catastrophic…and that’d only be the beginning. Reluctantly, Zan knew he’d have to make a return trip to the Zeta server soon. He didn’t know how, in the least, but it seemed like it could use some real help. If he had known sooner, if he had realized that the Shadow was more than some ghost server and sentient life was in actual peril, it wouldn’t have persisted. His contribution to the cosmic good, his repentance to God and the world in whole for lives he had snuffed didn’t have to stop at players. Maybe the Vagrants weren’t actual people…but the world he occupied now was theirs. What kind of person would he be if he ignored their plight because they were ‘just data’? As ridiculous as it was, Zan needed to save them. Maybe it was just to feel better about himself, but it grew beyond that. Maybe…to save the Shadow was to save himself in some twisted, convoluted way.

Or, perhaps, he just thought the people of the Shadow finally deserved a little hope.

“Touching.”

“Bite me.”

Flipping past the rest of the key inhabitants, certain he’d look to the section again in the future, Zan came upon the next portion of the journal.

And there it was, a means to his end; nexus. The key to the Quorum’s demise could lay in the very things they harvested. If he could use nexus to repair the Shadow, maybe it could lead to the cure to their metaphorical infection. If nothing else, it’d give him a way to stabilize the ever-eroding world that was Zeta. Sure, the Warden Wolf, their intended savior wasn’t doing jack shit to help the Vagrants, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t. Even small things like fixing up a city could inspire real comfort. Guh. Why did Zan suddenly feel so invested in that cause? Why was his Twilight, his wolf so insistent that he follow a simple train of thought with such zeal and vigor? Attempting to reclaim his composure, his sense of self, the Heavy Blade flipped past the rest of the general objects and focused more on the key portion.

Six pieces? The Umbral Tear was broken up into six pieces? That couldn’t be. He had held it in his hand in the Den, had used its powers to vanquish a whole army of Fahmor. If that hadn’t been the Umbral Tear as Elaina had said it was, then what? Had she been misinformed or misled? Too many possibilities and, with Nulus beginning to grow uneasy beside him, Zan knew he didn’t have the time to contemplate them. Even the continued reading of the book would have to wait for another time. With a final thought on all he had read, still not having completely digested it all, Zan closed it and called it back into his inventory as he rose to his feet. It was like the Heavy Blade had suddenly been told that the world had nine continents, not seven. The sensation that he had been so blindly ignorant to a large portion of ‘The World’, especially one that was so connected to him, waned on embarrassing. The knowledgeable part of him that resided in his Twilight seemed almost to sigh out in relief, like it had been waving its arms at him with the information ready to see and Zan had only then shifted his eyes to look.

“Midgits.”

The word pulled the lycanthrope from his daze. “Uh…what?”

“MIDGITS DAMN YOU.”

The werewolf, too oblivious to heed his senses beforehand, turned around just in time to see the rapid approach of three Voodoo Goblins. They greeted his appraisal with a well-cast OrVak Rom, one that swept both him and Nulus up in a great tornado of flame and fury. Though the damage to his hit points were present, not to mention his form, burn pains no longer seemed to have the same psychological effects as they used to. After having the left side of your face immersed in liquid pain, anything else seems like child’s play. By the time the spell had come to an end and dropped Zan back to his feet, if a fit precariously, the Shade was already launching off into the air. A peek into Nulus’ mind and Zan was aware he was making a U-turn to back-attack the things. Alright, then. Time to stall. Wincing away the blisters and crackled skin, the Lycan began to backstep their advances, making them chase him, making them ignore the rapidly-approaching target behind them as their wands lofted up for a second spell.

For a moment, Zan was worried. The timing seemed to be off between his companion’s assault and the magic’s incantation. He braced himself, awaiting yet another twister of fire, but the attack never came. The next breath and both of the beasts’ heads were clasped in Nulus’ mighty hands. The three of them flew at fairly daunting speeds towards the werewolf, but he wasn’t frightened. Instead, he ducked himself down just enough to avoid contact, right arm shooting out to catch a Voodoo Goblin in the gut. A wheezed squeal signaled his success, the Shade having let go just in time to avoid his flight pattern being deterred by the force of the impact. The monster that had fallen prey to Zan’s makeshift clothesline found itself struggling to get up, to make sense of the spinning field around it. With the staff it used to toss around the vicious Vak magics knocked away from it, the creature could do little but glance up at the Heavy Blade as he moved to loom over it. Leg suddenly in the air, Zan ended the goblin’s life with the plunge of his heel into its skull in a shattering axe kick that flattened its head and ended its life. With Nulus, a minute or two of claw flurries and careful OrVak Rom avoidances earned his opponent the same end result.

The duo came together in the aftermath, surveying the barren firescape with new eyes. Zan’s original intentions, to simply fight and train, now seemed a bit hollow. There was an entire world out there being ignored by a figure who was supposed to save it and Zan had the power to intervene. A part of him just wanted to gate out and head to the Shadow, completely abandoning previous plans with the Eventide Crescendo to help out a place that now seemed more in need of his presence. The Eventides, after all, had plenty of people helping to fight their battle. Sure, they had requested more, but the Zeta server had no one. Period. Didn’t that make it a place that deserved his focus more? Maybe, but the lycanthrope still knew that he wouldn’t just drop Sekai to do it on her own. If the field they were headed to would be as dangerous as he predicted, as he felt it would…he couldn’t allow her to be there without him. She was his calm, the tranquil eye of the storm that kept him grounded in even the fiercest situations. Had she been there when he and Atra had run into one another, the outcome would have been different. Zan was certain of it.

There was so much constant anger inside of him, so much new hate and self-pity that found itself chewing him up. Sekai was the one person, the one person that could dull that pain for him. It wasn’t love, not in the romantic sense, but something he considered just as important: faith. She, for a reason he couldn’t even begin to fathom, had faith in him. That kind of thing, in combination with her enduring innocence and compassion, made it nigh-impossible to flip his proverbial shit around her. In some cases it even served to hinder him, to distract him in battle. There had been times, especially in the first match against Angel, that he hadn’t been at his best because he was too worried for her safety. It was a small hindrance, really, something that he could fight his way past if he needed to. All in all, she was a shelter for his wolf to take comfort in, a domestic house that allowed it to temporarily escape the harsh realities of the wild and the world abound. The whole of it almost seemed silly to Zan. He had known the girl for only a small while, only a sliver of time. Yet…already she had had an impact so weighty and towering. It took a special kind of person to hit him like that, and she was just such an individual.

Nulus had begun to walk away, to leave Zan alone with his contemplations, and the werewolf finally moved off along the magma-cracked ground to join him. There was a swirling Monster Portal off in the distance and the Lycan was oddly eager to see what the rest of the field had in store for them. The field’s minor threat level, in terms of Twilight-toting psychopaths, allowed the Heavy Blade to enjoy the mysteries within, even if they were something as simple as ‘which monster is popping out?’ Along the way, one of the rock formations that sported a few mini-volcanoes caught his eye. This time, it wasn’t because of the bubbling lava but the floating flames above it; a Symbol. Wow. It had been ages since Zan had seen one of them. The Elites, for obvious reasons, didn’t see fit to add them to any of their areas. A curious hand lofted up and activated it, his veins suddenly pulsing with a deep, passionate red for the initial seconds the Ap Vakz took to activate completely. If what was contained in the Monster Portal were more Voodoo Goblins, the spell would be all but useless (higher protection against the OrVak Roms aside), but the lycanthrope approached it with renewed eagerness just the same.

What manifested from the portal upon their presence was definitely no Voodoo Goblin. No, it was something much, muchhh larger. The Sand Hill groaned out its objection to their proximity and its impending threat upon their bodily health. Zan ignored it. He was too busy being excited at the possibilities of a good fight such a monster held. Unlike the ones that came before it, the Sand Hill was obviously of a higher level than the lycanthrope. That, combined with its size, made it a notably formidable foe. As they always did for the more difficult battles, Zan and Nulus’ minds began to synchronize, their connection to one another allowing their thoughts to blend and their emotions to unite. Such a bond allowed them not to think in agonizingly slow words, but strategize and formulate plans at the speed of thought with flashes of concepts and the feelings tied to them. The Time Headband found itself momentarily equipped as the battle began, its valuable Ap Do called upon as Nulus made the first move and launched himself at the head of the beast. The spell’s effects filled Zan with unthinkable energy, the sudden need to just move filling every fiber of his muscles until he granted that desire. With sand continuously rolling off of their opponent as the Lycan bolted around to its flank, avoiding its massive paw (hand?) as it attempted to swipe him down in the process, the player couldn’t help but wonder if the thing could even be physically harmed. It looked too insubstantial, too…mushy.

Zan’s fears were quickly alleviated, however, when a carefully aimed strike from Nulus at the creature’s eyes made it rear back in pain and its hit points drop. That’s when the werewolf noticed just how much hit points the thing fucking had. Not only had his partner’s blow done little to effect it, so its defenses were impressive, but the numbers above the bar were just this side of frightening. The challenge level grew, but once more, it only made Zan more amped for the combat itself. What fun was beating around goblins and Mummy Scissors when you could take on something that really tested you? With the Time Headband still equipped, it’s spell was again used, this time aimed at the already-speedy Shade that was zipping around the Sand Hill’s head, offering both distraction and a ping to its health every now and then. Thank God for stupid, easily distracted, pre-programmed monsters. Zan didn’t waste time admiring this, of course, and used the opportunity to quickly reset his armor to its strongest followed by the rapid exchange of body armor to the Firedrake Mail. He had to take advantage of the Ap Vakz he had received, after all. A Juk spell would have been more efficient, no doubt, and may have even earned the Lycan an Elemental Critical, but he - for some bizarre reason - didn’t want the Symbol to go to waste.

“Vak Kruz!”

Orbs of billowing flame, invigorated to higher power by the Ap spell, circled the Sand Hill like hungry vultures waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Before they could, Nulus flew back and away from the monster, sure to be out of the blast radius when they hit. The explosion that resulted from the spell was enough to shake up the creature, its head hung in a pained lull. The Shade, seeing this, paused mid-flight and lofted a clawed hand in the Sand Hill’s direction, the idea of magic appealing as a good way to knock down the gargantuan amount of hit points contained with the monster’s data. At Nulus’ command, Wryneck began to manifest on the magma floor below, the summon appearing as an emerald-eyed panther cloaked in inky tendrils and a fine green mist. Despite the color scheme, the energy that collided with the monster as the panther pounced was purely Ani and purely powerful. Despite this, despite the bite it took out of the Sand Hill’s bar, it seemed to shake it out of its Vak Kruz-inspired daze. Link-casted GiGan Zots shot up from the ground to skewer both Nulus and Zan, the pair hurled away from their positions with rather sizable, gaping wounds on their persons.

Though the werewolf’s health wasn’t in the critical, the amount of damage taken was close enough that the Sand Hill was viewed with an entirely different eye. Cast by an Elite lackey or no, a level 2 spell from a monster that powerful was enough to make the Heavy Blade approach with renewed caution. His own metabolism wasn’t working quick enough to repair the damage, the regeneration hindered by the size of the injury. The Life Sword was summoned into being in his right hand for only a moment as the Sand Hill turned its massive body and began to thump towards Zan, its Ol Repth casted to sooth and fill and his body until almost all of his health had been restored. Nulus received the spell as well and, with both of them recovered and on the momentary run, Zan replaced the Life Sword with his Blessed Blade and was quick to set his armor back to its full capacity as well. There was going to be no more fucking around with this thing. Yet more GiGan Zots were cast their way, but the lycanthrope was ready for it this time, his Ap Do and his Twilight giving him all the speed he needed to avoid it. Nulus, darting around his spikes as well, zipped himself before the beast’s head to serve as the shoo-fly in him and Zan’s reinstated strategy.

A blurred sprint brought the werewolf to the Sand Hill’s side, a place he had occupied before the spell had heaved him up into the air like a rag doll. Anxious to end the fight, to down the son of a bitch, Zan scrambled his way up the monster’s body until he was firmly (as firm as one could stand on semi-solid sand, anyway) on its back and activated the blade’s Juk Smash skill. The sword lit up with a fine green glow and the accompanying emerald mist, something that seemed to almost follow the Lycan nowadays. Turned downward, the Blessed Blade plunged harshly into fiend’s ‘flesh’, the stuck weapon used as an anchor as Zan hoisted himself onto the handle in a handstand. Staying on was fairly difficult, what with Nulus’ fly-byes and raking claws making the Sand Hill yank its head this way and that, but he was able to for the time necessary to complete the skill. A heartbeat later and he was falling forward, a strong jerk of his muscles slamming the weapon down for a second strike and lighting up an ELEMENTAL CRITICAL above its head. As much damage was done, the monster still persisted.

“Ug, fucking die already.”

Alive as it was, the remaining hit points were laughable and, even as the Rig Saem was casted upon itself to attempt to liberate it from defeat, all it took were a few firmly placed attacks by the duo and the Sand Hill was dead. Zan was forced to semi-plummet to the cracked ground beneath when his own footholds dissipated into numbers and game glyphs. That said, the Lycan still landed with an unearthly grace, Twilight’s prowess in his physical form granting such a thing.

It was at that point that the field seemed to go downhill in terms of excitement. The thrill of not fighting for his life in any real way gave way to the dull drag of grinding. That was an aspect of ‘The World’ that he certainly didn’t miss in terms of being a normal player again. Field portions gave way to the dungeon and, from there, basement floor after repetitive basement floor until reaching the Gott Statue was like drinking water after years of thirst. Finally, as if sensing his plight, the lycanthrope was called to Mac Anu via a Flashmail from a very special Archer.

A quick response was gathered.

True to his word, the lycanthrope was back in Carmina Gadelica with Nul for only a moment before, with a quick browse through the menu, another trio of golden rings consumed the duo. This time they deposited them in the Water Capital, its eternal sunset giving off a soothing golden-pink glow along the horizon and what few dispersed clouds remained. Zan wasn't entirely fond of the idea of getting shot stares as he made his way towards the main bridge so, if a bit reluctantly, his hood was pulled prudently up at just the right angle to cover the marred portion of his facial features. It was almost scary how good he was getting at playing with light and shadow to hide something as vain as an avatar's apperance. Nul was quiet behind him, almost oddly so, but the Heavy Blade knew why. His partner was aware of his plans for Sekai, for the images and emotions he was going to impart on her, and he didn't want to ruin the serious air that had begun to build itself up around Zan. Nul...being polite? The player had to hold back a shudder.

It was in the middle of the bridge, leaned comfortably over the railing as usual with his companion acting as sentinel, that he waited for Sekai to arrive.

Sekai couldn't entirely blame Kira for being grumpy about her decision to return to the Eventide Crescendo but, chose to ignore the muttering and highly broadcasted disapproval in one shot anyway in favor of preparing herself for whatever the field had to offer. Gold rings chimed softly as they made their arrival in the eternal sunset city and began heading down the stairs. Kira was only a scant half footstep behind Sekai, already on the lookout for anything remotely threatening as they approached their intended destination. Sekai's heart sank slightly in her chest, she didn't know how much he knew or didn't know about what had happened or even if Zan knew anything that had happened in the first place. Discomfort from her link with Kira was clear; the AI ashamed of her behavior at the last interaction but still too full of her own stubborn pride to be able to apologize properly.

Hopefully there wouldn't be any hard feelings left between the two before Juk began; she really wouldn't want to have to choose between the two of them since she'd need all the help she could get... and cooperation would give them a better chance of surviving whatever the Highers threw at them this time. Someone with a hood up and with another male residing nearby caught her eye as she sighed with relief and picked up her stride to get over to where he was faster.

"I'm sorry, have you been waiting long?"

Zan could smell the both of them the moment they arrived in the Root Town, but his body language showed no signs of such a recognition. He found it tended to put people off if they began to realize that, in the game, he wasn't entirely human. Even if it was already obvious. In regards to their scent...he didn't just smell the both of them. He smelled the both of them on one another. That, combined with more sensuous things, gave him all the confirming information he needed. When the Archer arrived, his eased pose lost its grace, the suddenly uneasy Heavy Blade not immediately answering her question. Rather, his glacial eyes shifted between them, again...and again...and again. Had they...really? It was only when Nul cleared his throat, much more apt at hiding his own disbelieving reaction, that the lycanthrope broke out of his defiant trance.

"I...yeah. I mean, no. I just got here a few seconds ago, as a matter of fact."

Zan could only pray that they took the pause wrong, that they took it for his akwardness in regards to his and Kira's earlier confrontation. To tell the truth, however, Lowen's loss and the certain oblivion of his friendship with Leo had served to give him perspective. He held no grudge for the Long Arm. He did, however, hope she didn't think less of him because of the whole thing. They both had overreacted and he was eager to believe they could just leave it at that.

"Do you know where we're supposed to be going?" Seemed as good a question to ask as any.

Uneasy tension rose in the air, Kira noticing subtle signs and lifted her chin a little higher in the air in defiance, as if daring either of them to make something of what they'd either smelled or discovered. Should've known that their... ability and what they were would have given them a world of too much information when it came to people and.... certain things people did. Part of her wanted to roll her eyes and kiss the girl right there to just stake her claim and be done with it, not that she hadn't already, while the other part of her would be patient and hope they'd either quit being obvious about it or just say something so the cat was out of the proverbial bag. Something flashed momentarily in her eyes before she politely but definitely uncomfortably turned her eyes away to look at something over the bridge and let Sekai do all the talking for the time being.

"Thank goodness,"

She smiled shyly after the relieved expression slipped out before she could stop it.

"We're going to a particular alleyway... I think it's safest for them to meet in discreet areas because of who they're up against... and who we will be once we enter the field."

Nerves were eating at her and she played with the black and white clasp that held the hip armor closed, tracing the familiar ying-yang symbol lightly before fidgeting in place.

"Is...um,"

Concerned tawny eyes looked up, height difference allowing her to see some of the face within the shadows as anxiety showed itself openly on her face and in her voice.

"Is everything alright? Something, um, it just seems..."

Kira supplied the response, tone soft but slightly edged, as if the nerves were getting to her too.

"Off. Something's off."

Zan was only just beginning to note the changes in the two of them, something he had subconciously ignored before. Sekai's were more obvious, more cosmetic (at least the immediate ones, anyway). Her hair was shorter, to name one, and the smell of fresh blood had collected on her back. Mingled with that blood was...well, what the lycanthrope had begun to identify as the scent of power. Something strong, something magical had happened there. Instinct, something cradled by the wolf within, told him it was a sacred thing; a thing to be respected. So, with no reason not to, that's exactly what the Lycan did. The pair's comments had Nul snickering behind him, quickly following the Long Arm's lead and looking elsewhere to relieve the sudden focus on him. Not seeing it necessary to embarass Sekai, the werewolf lied.

"Oh, no. Really, uh, just the fight between Kira and I. It shouldn't have happened." Like the Archer's guardian, he wasn't one to say sorry much. He certainly wasn't going to start then, especially with a fib. "I'm sure we can be adults about it and just move on, though. Am I right?"

Despite whatever the response would be, the Lycan was going to drop the subject either way. Curious blues had begun to scope Mac Anu for known alleyways, interested in which one they'd be traveling down soon. "All that said...lead the way, mei lumen."

A flash of relief, even something that looked like gratitude flickered over Kira's face for a scant moment, her own way of thanking the lycan for not pressing either issue before she looked towards the alleyways herself. Sekai on the other hand, frowned and took a hesitant step forward, ducking her head and tilting it a little to try and see more of the taller Heavyblade's expression. It was partially the fight with Kira, though the relief she could feel was probably stemming from the mutual agreement to drop the subject entirely and let it be in the past. After a moment, she nodded in response and tugged on his jacket sleeve, gesturing very slightly with her head and starting to walk as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Being inconspicuous was a pain in the butt to fake; especially when she had a purpose that she felt strongly about.

Kira was a master of it, looking bored and noticing little things here and there as her footsteps echoed solidly against the wood and stone behind Sekai, forming one end of a small triangle as she smiled ever so slightly at the way Sekai's eyes would dart around, looking for a sign of the black armor of a certain panties in a bunch Heavyblade around the area.

"It's this way."

She responded, ducking around a corner and feeling the nerves return in full force, heart speeding up and her blood beginning to pound in her ears. What... what if someone else wound up having to sacrifice themselves to progress their war against the Highers? Sekai stopped in mid-step, whirled around and looked over at her friend who'd been so kind to her. If she were a good person... she'd have to warn him ahead of time, ask him if he were sure and had all the information she had to give.

"Um, are you sure you want to go through with this? I... I don't want you going into something without knowing what could happen."

Zan noticed Kira's nonverbal thanks, but chose not to acknowledge it. Hell, he was pretty certain she would be happier than he had. With a tug of his sleeve and a leading step, the lycanthrope was again on the move through the beautiful Root Town, the three of them collected in some loose triangle while Nul happily took up the back. Despite the humor that had been filling him a few moments before, the look on his face and the thoughts going through his head were dead serious. The Shade-miming-human was a fierce sentinel. That very skill, that very programming was enginned through his code, Nul the first of a line of Twilight that was made to guard those under their wings (or, in this case, claws). The intensity of his sweeping gaze made some look away and others only stare that much harder. Between Nul and the cute but inadequate actress that was Sekai, the group may as well have been trumping across the wood and stone with a marching band and flashing neon signs that screamed 'SECRET MEETING THIS WAY.' The party had only just entered the designated alleyway when the ever-concerned Archer stopped them and spoke.

The Lycan couldn't help it...he smiled. "I appreciate your concern, lumen, but I'm positive. I need to do this. I have things to make up for." And, on accident, he had said a little too much.

Sure, it was true that he was going to tell her soon, but the suddenness of probably having to do it right then made his heart race. Zan was suddenly a little boy again afraid and embarassed to stand up in front of his class. If he was going to go through with it, if he was going to show her everything, there was so much to be ashamed about...so much she could experience and think less of him for. Or, and God was it worse to him, she'd end up fearing him. The Heavy Blade wasn't sure if he could stand Sekai giving him the same look he gave himself in the mirrors at the Hideout whenever he had the chance. It was a look that said 'what are you?' and dripped with disgust and anxiety. If those tawny eyes ever stared up at him with even so much as a hint of such a thing...it'd do damage. Real damage.

Interest flashed in Kira's eyes, though she dropped subtly back to converse with Nulus on the subject to see what he'd be able to offer her while Sekai, well, her little one would have to deal with this on her own. Couldn't protect her from everything like she'd been told several times now, so... this was all on her shoulders.

Her eyes darkened in distressed concern, taking another bold, well, bold for her anyways, step forward into a part of the shadowed area they'd walked into and another closer to where the man she trusted stood. This was something that was off, what she kept feeling briefly in the way his body language spoke and the way he carried himself, as if something too heavy even for him to carry was on his back and shoulders.

On his heart.

"You're in pain."

Sekai whispered softly, eyes looking for any sign of physical injury and, when finding none on his person, looked back up and took a small handful of his jacket in her hand to keep him from running... though he was stronger and could probably toss her across the root city without much effort. It was still the sentiment behind the action that counted, at least in her eyes anyways. From what she could see of him due to her short statue, his hood and the shadows around them, she could just... it almost radiated it now that she cast aside her own nervous behavior and kicked herself for not noticing sooner.

"Who... who hurt you like this?"

There was something about the sudden intensity in her eyes, the weight of her eerie knowing that began to build up his emotional walls even further. Before she did anything beyond take a step towards him, Zan already knew she was about to deliver a blow more effective than any blade or fist ever could. It wasn't an attack of malice he found himself confronted with as she spoke those three impacting words, but one of genuine compassion. The fact that he knew, just knew, that she sincerely hurt for him...it made everything crash down as easily as a castle of sand. The grip on his black trenchcoat made him tense up, made him want to flee and abandon something he knew he needed to do, but he couldn't bear to do that to the Archer. She was already so invested in the situation...to do so would be akin to spitting in her face.

Her question had no simple answer. "Wolfsbane...them...and myself." What she could see of his softened expression suddenly hardened, got angry. "I deserve this, lumen. God, believe me...I deserve every second of it." Nul, despite his location off to the side with Kira, was still using their bond to urge him onward. Clamming up now would make the whole thing for nought. Zan laughed, but it was bitter. "Listen to me, I sound like such a moping child."

Deep breaths. He had to slow his heart down. He had to do it.

"There was...there was something I wanted to ask of you. It's going to sound ridiculous, but ever since Dien left I've felt kind of isolated. Alone, I guess. With Hac and Phoenix shooting me the acusatory eye, with everyone scowling at me because I lecture a little too much...the human in me, not to mention the wolf, has been longing for some kind of companionship again. A friend." There was a pause, and he continued on. "I was able to find that in Raquar recently, but even him...I wasn't really able to give myself completely. There are always things, even with Dien, that I have to hide from people. Because of that, as I'm sure you can imagine, I even feel a little distanced from those I'm close to." Another pause, but this one was longer. This was where the big question was asked. "I have the minor ability, through my blood, to transfer memories to people. I did it to Raquar, but I held back. I think, to make this fucking..." He stopped. For cursing. The effect she had... "...this freaking bottomless pit in my chest go away, I have to give away everything that I am, I have to let someone in without a single ounce of inhibition."

A stare, one that tried not to be too aggressive, too demanding, was shifted down to her. "You're the only one I trust to take it all without thinking too much less of me. I'm telling you now, Sekai; most of it is stuff I still have nightmares about. I don't want to do this to you...I know you probably have enough on your plate already. You don't need my baggage too. But...I don't know, I guess I had to ask." Hopeful, yet pecimisstic, eyes searched her own.

How had she managed to scare him, someone so small and weak such as herself shouldn't have been able to make him flinch, to make him get that panicked air of needing to escape that she knew all too well near the surface of her own heart. This was no physical wound, perhaps... perhaps those scars that permanently lingered on his face were memories in that form but, there was something more that was there as he spoke with her. There was anger there that took the fear over but didn't destroy it, the honest in his words, as he told her that he deserved every bit of what he was talking about struck a chord within her that echoed agony through her very soul. Even through the rapid change from shock to fear to anger, she tried not to flinch away, tightening her grip instead to comfort herself and, hopefully, to provide some to him as well in this harsh assault on himself.

A friend, her eyes closed and the bitter sting of tears hit her hard, tearing her apart inside as she remembered how that felt; to be so alone that it turned into desperation, a search for someone, anyone to fill that hole within. It wasn't fair for him to be forced aside, to be treated as less because of who he was and what he had the ability to do. That wasn't fair. No one should have to hide themselves, to feel distanced from one another because of differences in ability, of opinion and of ways of protection. It was wrong. The admission to an ability she didn't know about was surprising and she'd nearly yelled the answer before he could finish, upbringing dictating that she would wait until he was finished speaking before saying a word.

It didn't stop her from responding with her eyes and expression. Trembling with the need to deny all of it, to try and make him see that he was such a good person, that he didn't deserve any of what had happened to him, Sekai stared unlblinkingly back up into the hood once she raised her head, the sheen of tears in her eyes as she managed to keep her voice from trembling while she responded.

"Two questions,"

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

"Is this a safe place for you to be this vulnerable when you... give me the memories?"

Sekai's hand sought his beneat the sleeve of his trenchcoat, hesitantly and gently touching his hand and covering as much of it with her tiny one as she could.

"And, is there a way I can pass the same to you? It... doesn't seem fair for you to take such a risk without gaining something in return."

Zan felt himself beginning to instantly regret telling the little Archer anything. The tears that burned in her eyes, that steadily slid down her youthful cheeks, made him wonder if he was doing the right thing. If it hurt her so much to hear mere words for him, and he to watch its effect on her, what would the memory transfer to do the both of them? It almost seemed unwise right before such a critical quest for him, one that would mark the first of his acts that were for the desperation of others and not himself. Yet, like before, simply abandoning it right then would have seemed like he was slapping her in the face. There she was, her heart unashamed and open to what he was offering. To turn her away would be unforgivable, if only upon himself. Still...the temptation was there to hold back like he had done with Raquar. She, after all, wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Memories were memories. Perhaps he could shield her from the worst of it. Perhaps...no. No, she deserved faith and, God help him, he just needed someone to know it all; finally.

To her first question... "It's as safe a place as any. I don't think Kira and Nul will let anything happen to us." To the second... "As for your memories, it only works one way. It would work both if you were Garou, as 'the Maker'-" The two words were spat. "-intended the ability to work, but it won't with a anything else. Believe me...everything here is fair. Hell, if anything, I'm the one giving you the raw deal. By doing this, you realize, you give me real sanctuary for the first time since I feel into a coma. There's no price on that."

Taking a deep breath, the werewolf's thumbnail began to grow and sharpen, curving to a lethal point that was dragged along the inside of his left palm. In that second, as the slight line of crimson began to blossom, Zan let every fiber of his mind, body and soul manifest as liquid life. Smearing the blood along that same thumb, the claw shifting back to normality, the small cut was already gone. The digit was lofted up towards her, aimed in the general direction of her forehead, but he made no move to continue it.

"I want you to think about this, Sekai. Really think about it. In this blood is a shard of me. No matter who it is, you shouldn't take something like that unto yourself lightly." He gave it a second. "If you still decide to do it...just step forward. And, ahead a time, I'm sorry again for asking you to do this. You'll understand afterward..."

She wouldn't argue the fairness of it with him, not right now anyway, and would ask him in a few moments to allow her to be selfish enough to tell him of her own burden as fair and equal trade. That price, what this was going to cost him, cost her, it wasn't something tangible, of that she could be certain and she wouldn't turn it down when he so desperately needed someone to understand, to see without a judging eye. He needed a friend, not just a casual, day to day aquaintence who would turn as soon as the air turned stagnant, turned foul with misunderstanding and distrust with one action but a friend. Sekai blinked once, watching the thumbnail sharpen and furrow into the skin of his palm opening the wound enough to allow a smear of scarlet to stand starkly out against the color of his skin. His palm was there, ready for her to step into, to accept what he was offering, risking.

What he was sacrificing.

Only once did she look over her shoulder, a silent question not asking for permission, for approval from the AI who stood eerily calm next to the intimidating human form of the one who accompanied someone dear to her. Amber eyes met hers and held, a swift exchange between the two of them, her question answered in the way only Kira could manage to tell her, the words echoing softly in Sekai's mind as she turned around and softly spoke her response, to give him the mental reassurance that she was doing this of her own free will and not of obligation or sense of duty and honor.

There is more than one kind of protection people can offer.

Sekai inhaled once, slow but shaky, and released to attempt to calm her own heart down. If it pained him this much, the pain for her would hurt as well even worse than what she was feeling now just by watching him stand there, seconds ticking by and with each a seed of doubt insinuating itself, digging roots into his mind. Pain called to pain and misery called for company, maybe this was some kind of sign from God that there was something that she could do, something even as small as taking on some of what pained him in his waking and unwoken moments in this life. In return, she would ask of him the same, perhaps some kind of damage could be healed... even if there was more damage done before the healing could even begin in the first place.

"I'm doing this because I want to,"

She clarified, a little hesitantly because she didn't want to hear the scoff of disbelief... didn't want him to think she was lying to him.

"Please believe me."

Her voice whispered those last three words as she stepped forward and rested her palm against the smear in his palm.

Zan watched that strong ensue over her features, the roots of doubt indeed beginning to burrow within his mind. Maybe she was going to say no. Maybe all of his caution and all of his 'rethink this' bullshit had actually hit home. Maybe it should have. The Lycan was prepared to drop the hand, blood smeared on both his thumb and his palm, should she give any vocal assurance that that was what the situation called for it. The possibility that he'd be denied after the war he had waged with himself to do it in the first place...it was terrifying. Not to mention the fact that, should she say no, his search for someone who begin a new and he wasn't entirely sure it was a quest that'd ever find completion. Because of who he was, because of what he was, the lycanthrope couldn't just travel in any old circle of people.

The Heavy Blade watched as Sekai asked for an ocular okay from the distant Long Arm, Zan only the noting that she actually seemed to be solid. That was something to investigate, when the situation lightened...if it could ever be light between them again after what she was about to see. Whatever happened, Zan chalked it up to mental banter that he couldn't hear, the kind of back-and-forth him and Nul were able to do due to their connection. It seemed reasonable that Sekai and her guardian be allowed the same kind of communication. In the end, she turned back to him, seeming to prepare herself for what was about to happen. A part of the werewolf wanted to use that alone as an excuse to call it off, but yet again he denied the rash impulse. They were going to do this.

Her words were acknowledged and, as requested, believed. It was hard not to believe anything Sekai said, really. "I do. I believe you." And then it started.

Flesh to flesh, blood to blood, she was swallowed into the vortex of his mind.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Zan’s View

Sekai was a young boy in New York, daddy tickling her at the age of five into submission. She could feel joy, could feel innocense and the brand of bliss only ignorant youth could offer. There was a smell that hit her nose, something delicious, something her mother always made for her - spaghetti and one giant meatball. She had fought with mommy for so long, meal after meal, until the tall lady had promised to pack all of them together. The process always looked so tiring and the meatball always took so long to cook, but she did it...for her. She did it for her because mommy loved her more than anything in the world and she knew it.

FLASH

Sekai and mommy were dancing, the beautiful woman with long, dark brown hair flowing in perfect circles spinning this way and that. She couldn't remember the occasion, but she could remember being so uncomfortable in the miniature tux at the wedding. None of it mattered, of course, when she had been hauled away laughing and simulataneously nervous onto the dance floor. They weren't the only parent-child dance couple - there seemed to be quite a bit - but the rest of them didn't matter. All that did was the angel before her, lofting her up and spoiling her cheek with purposefully sloppy kisses. The love was boundless. Sekai was lost in a sea of it that she hoped never to be rescued from.

FLASH

Mommy was going to have another baby! Sekai was going to have a little brother! Though mommy talked about him day after day, Sekai was never jealous. Not too much, anyway. The excitement was a boil, was a net of butterflies in her tummy that never seemed to go away. If mommy was so happy about it, it had to be a wonderful thing. Had to! The look on daddy's face, the way he'd tuck her in and whisper about all the things he'd be able to help his little brother out with when they grew up. Oh, it was almost too much! She was going to be a big brother!

FLASH

Sekai was so tired...they had been in the hospital for days. Daddy said that her little brother had gone to heaven, that God had decided he needed him up there more. Mommy couldn't stop staring at the window where brother used to be in a great big plastic machine. Wires and tubes...and he had been much, much tinier than she imagined. She made a joke about it days before, but daddy didn't seem to think it was funny. Day after day mommy, slumped slightly in her wheelchair, stared dead into the window of sick babies. It didn't seem to matter that brother wasn't there anymore. Sekai was sad, but she was even more so for mommy. Why wouldn't mommy look at her anymore?

FLASH

The little boy stood inside of the kitchen, unable to move a muscle in her body. Mommy was curled up on the tile, deep red scratches raked down her own face as she sobbed, as she cried out every drop of water in her body. Had she accidently gotten hurt? Was that why she was crying? Skin and blood were under her fingertips, but Sekai only recognized the visual, despite what her actual mind was identifying. Mommy wouldn't let her come near, would only cry harder if she tried. Daddy came in a little while after, hearing everything, and Sekai felt the first pings of panic. What was going on? Why was everything so sad all the time? Why didn't mommy dance with her anymore? Had she done something wrong?

FLASH

Daddy was sitting down with Sekai, explaining to her that mommy had gone to get some good care at a very special hospital. She would be gone for a while until she got better. It had been a few days before daddy would finally explain why mommy didn't wasn't home anymore, and he had begun to stop tickling and wrestling with her. There were no more kisses good night. There were no more stories. Her friends would have laughed at her, especially Leo, but it was okay to hear stories still when you were eight. Like mommy used to say, you only get to be a kid once. Still...Sekai wished she knew why daddy's breath always smelled so funny nowadays. It made her want to cough, but she never did. Daddy also seemed to get angry a little too easy then...

FLASH

The little boy was standing in the doorway of the half-painted room, squeezing in from the block daddy tried to make. Mommy was home from the hospital, but had left for a little while to get some air, daddy had said. She had come back, but gone to the room they were all now collected in. Beside her, she was humming a lullaby to an empty cradle, a long gun pointed to the bottom of her chin as she watched Sekai finally enter. The humming stopped, and she said three words to her boy: "Don't cry, plum." Then the sound, that aweful sound, ripped through the air like a lion's roar and popped the back of mommy's head onto the wall. What...why...?

FLASH

Sekai, the player, knew then that Conner - Zan's real name she understood - had convinced himself, when he was of age to craft such a thing, that his mother had died of cancer. The elaborate lie was all his fractured mind needed to make sense of things. It wouldn't be until the Knights of the Four (Truth, Salvation and Decadence) showed him his Big Lie that the truth about his premature brother's death would come out.

FLASH

Sekai was an enforcer, a bully for one of New York's most problematic gangs. She had been recruited to escape the beatings from her father, from Darren Sunderland. Though she refused to touch the drugs, her nights were filled with plenty of violence that had nothing to do with the money the people owed her. They were all vents, were all targets that could steal away just a little bit of the burning fire of rage within. She'd eventually, with the help of Leo, help the police take down the leaders. It wasn't long until the rest fell and dispersed into other, smaller gangs. But it didn't matter. She had felt how good it was to do...well, good.

FLASH

Sekai couldn't believe the pain, couldn't believe the physical confusion as Melzas - the Elite of Ice - hit her with one of his most devistating attacks. She could feel her real world body slip away, go into a coma, and trap her there within The World. Memories of what it was like to first experience hightened, uncontrollable senses...and then the Beast. God, the hunger...the anger...the darkness it brought out within her. Everyone smelled like and looked like food. She wanted to hurt everything...wanted to hunt and kill it all. To this day, that urge hasn't gone away. Like a gnarled knot in her stomach, like a whisper on the back of her neck, the Beast seems eternal.

FLASH

How happy she had been to meet Lowen, to meet the rest of the pack. Despite Elaina's prophecy that she would kill them all, Lowen had faith in her. Lowen...a woman with, but a few hours between their first meeting, a piece of her heart already stolen. They slept together in the outpost that night, Lowen knocking on the door in the rain, tears of a desperate leader streaming down her face. And they did only that: sleep. She made Sekai promise that, should the manifested Beast defeat her, that she would kill Lowen and not force her to live the rest of her time in the game as a mindless nothing. And, of course, Elaina's prediction came true. The Code Sight she had had rang correctly. Lowen lost and, through her promise, Sekai slew her. Lowen's connection, her bond to Elaina killed Elaina as well. Jang, Elaina's love, attacked Sekai out of blind vengeance. In self-loathing, she fought back...and won. Boros was last (or previous? the memories were so traumatically blurred) and he too fell to her...but with an unnatural attack that ripped a wound in her very data.

FLASH

The Knights of the Four told her that, because Lowen was linked to her through their mutual contact with the Plures Vultus Mortis, that her mind was in limbo. Through Sekai's data scar, the Knights could wake her from her coma for a short time. Sekai did just that. Awakening Lowen, real name Marilyn Logan, resulting in the death of her three friends, the three who had been trapped with her and kept her company in the horrible, deleted server of the Shadow. Though they mourned, flunkies of the Wolfsbane group - a taskforce within CyberConnect charged with both studying lycanthropic 'anomalies' and other special projects - were after them and they fled. They escaped.

They made love.

Rich, if a bit alien, sensations and details eclipsed Sekai's rational thought. She was tangled in arms and legs, in carnal action that was altered...hallucinagenic because of her and Lowen's altered brain chemistry. They loved eachother and that action had cemented it, had taken away the worry in the world for one desperate night. The player Sekai suddenly knew then that Zan knew she and Kira had had sex as well, that he was able to catch the scent. That detail was soon stolen away by another, by the rude awakening her and Lowen recieved the next morning. Sekai tried to fight, but was knocked out and returned to a coma, only to watch Lowen injected...and lost to her.

FLASH

Other memories flooded, things not entirely chronological. She knew who Atra was, knew that Atra was a part of Wolfsbane's comatose division...that had left. There were images of her and Xael interrogating him, torturing him for information about the location of the Umbral Tear, but Sekai wouldn't cave. It was only when the left side of her face was dipped in Malfaes silver that she called out for help. The pain was simply...beyond. A cold burning, a bizzare confliction of agony and pain beyond simple words. Malfeas...Sekai suddenly knew about 'The Shadow of The World', the book Zan had taken from Angel and everything that had been written within. She knew of the Fahmor, of the Quorum and the nexus...and the Wylds. Everything. She knew of his time with Reinier in battle, with Dien and Nighthand and the fight with Jett. Every moment of his time with the Freedom Fighters filled her to the brim and she lived every moment of it. She knew how good it felt, how good it tasted to feast on the only corpse she would ever devour to date. She could feel the dark nod of the Beast as she gave herself completely to the hunger. She knew the primal madness of her Garou form, of how good it felt to rip into flesh with the power it contained and the claws at her disposal. Nulus' liberation, of his deletion and murder of Xael and even what he used to be - that pure Twilight wolf - was hers to know; to feel and witness as Zan. She reveled in the sheer strength of wielding a Heavy Blade, of his secret love for magic just the same. She knew he loved her like a sister, Raquar like a brother, and Dien and Reinier in similar fashion...if a bit lesser then. Sekai could feel the kind of relief being near her was for him, how it sated his Beast. She was pressed in by the weight of his appreciation for her and her compassion...for everything she was.

Sekai was met with the storm of his hate for her father, for her - the player's - actual father. Hate for his own....for a time. She knew of his respect for Kira, of how impressed he was with her mental and physical capabilities. There was no hiding his appreciation for what she did for Sekai...it was laid to bare.

FLASH

And the next she knew would be what he really wanted to show, what he wanted above all else for her to see and understand. She was moving her way through Wolfbane's underground, knowing it was the place her father - Zahn - had been murdered by Michael Grahm. Michael...the man who made the Shadow, who tested and tested her and Lowen with methods not even remotely safe. Sekai moved from room to room, remembering each of the tortures the older Lowen had been put through while she was busy with the Freedom Fighters. The guilt...it was an unshakable nausea, an undeniable vertigo. Then the relief of finding Lowen...the flood of love despite her withered form and stitched stomach. Their kiss, despite weakness and time, still a thing of dangerously wonderous fire. Sekai dragging her out around the corner...the shots that killed the only girl she had ever loved. Sekai pleading over Lowen's body as the woman whispered that there had not been enough time. Then...Sekai stopped feeling altogether. No matter how much the actual player tried, she was blank. She watched herself, watched Zan, as he systematically went guard to guard, scientist to scientist...and killed them. Some shot in the head, in the heart, while most the others were decapitated. The blood that splattered her...and still nothing but the cold vacuum.

The funeral came next...and she new Leo hated her for making him kill. She knew their friendship, what was once thought solid as anything, was over. The reunion with her father, their silent acceptance - finally - of Lilith Sunderland's suicide...and Sekai could feel how good it was to be able to cry with her father holding her. The last word he spoke, caling out for Darren as 'dad' before the coma struck once more. And, God, the guilt...it was back, and it was everything she had ever known. It's what she lived right then, what the man touching hand-to-hand with her was choking on. That, the despair and the lonliness were her only friends before Raq and her had bonded. And still the trio of emotions did not leave her. As if made to be the most important, it was those memories that stretched. The rest...they came flooding in, felt and understood just the same, but not to the same degree. She could feel his slipping control, how he almost killed Atra in Carmina Gadelica. There were others mixmatched, others that filled in the rest of who Zan was and had ever been...


---------------------------------------------------------------

...and she was back in Mac Anu, in the present.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Sekai’s View

It was cold and then there was nothingness.

Black stared out before her, slowly and suddenly all at the same time thrusting her into a mind where she simply just was the child and wasn't all at the same time. The squeals of laughter were her own, shrieking helplessly as she thrashed around and attempted to escape the wriggling fingers against her ribs and stomach. Simple, pure joy that revealed a happy, carefree soul that loved a tangy scented pasta with a large sphere of meat on top of it. Her mother made it because her mother loved her. She was beautiful and it made her forget the uncomfortably restrictive clothing, made her forget because her idol had to be an angel and special above all else. The adoration fierce and possessive but undevoted without a doubt.

The word of that woman, the one that gave her a name, a title so to speak, was Mother.

A sibling, she was going to be an older brother in this one, happiness surrounded everyone, including the new Papa she'd gained from the ceremony with uncomfortable clothing. She wasn't jealous at all somehow, not when there was so much joy to be had and shared by everyone around. Well, sometimes but the mother would always come back and soothe any doubts she may have had in such a young state. Nothing could possibly take this away from them.

Tears wouldn't even come anymore, acceptance for someone so young that there would no longer be a chance to be an older brother, to show him how to do things the right way and not to get into trouble. Her idol was silent, sad and didn't talk anymore. Hope had returned when she'd tried to joke about it and then her father just stared, quietly disapproving and immediately said the joke wasn't funny. Mother went into herself then and wouldn't come back.

Wouldn't even look in her direction anymore.

FLASH

She was hurting, curled up like she had a stomach ache and wouldn't anything, just cried and cried and cried and cried. Like she would try and melt into the floor itself. No matter what, she just made things worse when she got closer, panic stricken as her father came in and left just as quietly again. Fear held her, what had she done wrong? What happened to make her mother so unhappy and sad?

What did she do that made her mother like this?

She was in a safe place is what her father told her. They would take care of her until she was able to come home smiling and everything would be okay. Only, the lack of hugs, affection, of stories and fun times wrestling and laughing said something completely different. Her friends, especially Leo, would laugh at her and call her stupid and a crybaby for all of this. But, it was okay to like bed time stories, because those were the ones that made her feel safe and loved. Something funny was on her father's breath and he got angry easier when she did something even so much as cough nowadays. Was he sick too?

FLASH

Squirming into the room her father had blocked was hard but, she managed anyway through sheer determination to get to her idol; humming and singing at the half finished room in front of the cradle her baby brother was supposed to be in but was in heaven instead. Something under her chin, a gun, she realized too late as she noticed her little self watching, smiled and asked her not to be sad and don't cry before a loud sound echoed and something splattered against the wall and all over the room. Frozen, mouth open and with a sense of fear, of loss and panic as she didn't move, she didn't move reached her and the denial began to set in.

The denial turned into a lie she kept spun around herself, until those bastards released it from her frantic hold on it. Her mother had died of cancer, that was all, there hadn't been anything else, just a stupid virus mutation that had completely stolen her away before she'd been ready to say goodbye.

FLASH

She fought every single night, regardless of what injuries she sustained. Blood heated to keep her warm in the chill of the unholy hours of the night and morning and the red and blue lights flashing after each and every bust that took place. Better to beat some cock high off his ass son of a bitch than feel the hand of her father cracking against her skin again. At least this way a lesson would be driven across and as a physical reminder for them to quit fucking their lives up. Not that hitting them made her feel better, but the sense she got that she was actually doing some good in the shitty world was more than enough of a compensation in the long run.

FLASH

Agony like nothing she'd felt lanced through her, a foe so formidable that there'd been no fucking warning against what had hit her had been registered in her brain. The hold on her physical form vanished, trickling like sand, like blood from between her fingers as she was bound and wrapped in the body she'd been using to play a stupid game in. Senses gone made, heightened to a painful degree that panicked her and then the hunger. Anger, hunger and everything; it brought everything primal out from within her. Food was everywhere, even when she looked into the eyes of those she called friends; they were food too and smelled like it. It was still there, whispering in her mind constantly, telling her to give in, to feast and gorge until she couldn't any longer.

And then there was her. The pack. All of them but especially Lowen. A promise made in a storm raging outside of the little shelter they'd shared that night, nestled for warmth and understanding beside each other in case the worst should happen. Mindless nothingness wouldn't be allowed, not for such a woman. That prediction came true and she had to kill her with mercy in her mind but regret in her heart and hand. Death came to her hands, jumped and tore at her until she destroyed it, a wound, open, raw and bleeding in her data remained after that last blow, one she didn't remember clearly in the least.

FLASH

Lowen wasn't dead and a virus caused her mind in limbo; one that no matter what, that sense of honor within the blade she carried on her back and in battle swore her to, that she would release Lowen from that damn place. The scar in her data could help her, could help her snap out of the coma for a short period of time and she took the chance to save Lowen- Marilyn Logan, from a lightless hell and damned the other three in her place. Wolfsbane was after them and they fled, on the run until they could be strong enough to fight back... if they could find others to help them fight back. And they did it; they escaped.

Passion was the name and love was its ruler.

They spent that night together, one in a flurry of carnal impulse, of the desperate need for comfort, for protection and physical affection. Too real to be an illusion and too hallucinogenic to be tangible at the moment, they were together and cherished each other. Pledged and whispered things that only they would know. That only that night would ever bear witness and would remain solid in their hearts from that day forward.

And then they came. Tearing each other apart and she was suddenly back in her body, seperated and lost, alone and frightened as they injected her beloved with something that stole her, sent their link into blackness, into cold that never went away.

FLASH

Burning cold, it was agony and pain all at once, the book that whispered written secrets found in Angel's library, the Umbral Tear's location being grilled Atra's doing as well as Xael's greed to rule, to gain that sacred power. Her battles each and every one of them, the rage and glee taken from slaughtering all at once in a pure, thrilled state that only barely distinguished pack from non-pack. Of Nulis' execution of those who opposed them both, of her feelings for the Freedom Fighters both old and new. His feelings for her, for what she was and how she was... and then for the hatred that came with the knowledge what her father had done. Her father outside the game and her once hatred for the father who's memories he lingered in. Of respect for Kira and what Kira's abilities were capable of; and how much appreciation she had for what Kira did for her actual self; for the Archer hovering in the corner and experiencing all of this.

FLASH

The underground laboratory; tortured forms and the man who'd murdered her actual father, who'd made Shadow and tormented Lowen mercilessly all in the name of 'science'. Every torture Lowen had been through ripped through her as she traveled through the rooms, intent on breaking her out of there, nausea, guilt and vertigo raping her stomach and nerves to fragmented pieces until the flood of relief was almost enough to oversee the starved, concentration camp victim that her beloved Lowen had become. Love flooded her heart and through the link, the kiss they shared still desperate and loving regardless of her appearance. Dragging her out of there and into the freedom's safety until they could escape, it'd be just a little more.

And she died. Gunshots meant for her were bravely taken, pleading with her beloved not to leave as blood seeped to concrete, into her eyes, nose and everywhere until she lie still, light and fragile beneath her pleading, sobbing form. Cold, deadly, deadly cold filled every pore of her body as she unleashed revenge upon them all. They'd wanted a monster and she'd given it to them, nothing but the sound of blood splattering, bones crunching and bullets ringing pierced that haze until there was nothing left.

Her funeral, hatred from Leo and his father for forever destroying their lives, a friendship she'd thought would last through the end failed to uphold over this. Accepting his mother's death, of letting Darren Sunderland become her father once again, forgiving him by pitching back into the void, calling out for her 'dad' and then nothing but the coma rushing up to return her, to claim her for its own.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Despair, guilt, anger, three emotions filtered in with an eternal, unshakable loneliness that tore her apart worse than any blade may have. Sekai was back in herself, the concern in Kira's end of the link flooding her as she found herself looking blankly into the darkness of the palm almost covering her face. Her hand clung tightly to his, her other hand moving over and holding both of them together as her knees went out from beneath her. Grief took her so swiftly that she didn't know what to say, what to do except express it in the only way she could manage to coherently do so. Shoulders shaking already with sobs she'd tried to keep in from the beginning, she revealed the depth of it..

A high, keening wail rang shrilly in the alleyway and rose sharply into the air from the lungs of a very small, very grief stricken young girl who'd experienced a lifetime of pain in the span of a few minutes.

Out of breath and the sound trailing off, Sekai broke into loud, gasping sobs that had her choking, gagging at some points and struggling to breathe at all at others. So much pain strangling her, how... how could he possibly take such a thing everyday and still be able to keep walking, to keep fighting with his head held high?

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

As the connection ended, as Zan himself stopped reliving all of those memories, he suddenly wished he hadn't...for a second. The way she simply shattered in front of him, the way she seemed to crack and crumble in his arms made the lycanthrope's heart ache. How could he have asked someone who's already been through so much to take on yet more weight? Was he really so selfish? However, as the tears continued to flow and the sobs continued to wrack every inch of her tiny form, the Heavy Blade knew his decision was well-made. Not just because he suddenly felt renewed and invigorated by what he felt was now an unshakeable friendship, but because of the way she cried. The sound didn't belong to a girl who no longer knew how to function, but one who had faced something and not denied a second of what she had seen. The Archer was strong beyond words and, even as he held her up, he knew the experience would only make her stronger.

Still, the fact that he had just reviewed some of the hardest - no, the hardest - parts of his life did take its toll. Though he did not shake, did not make even a sound, the occasion, salty tear that slid down his face and fall atop her head was all the proof anyone would need to know he was crying with her. Any, especially Nul, who tried to mock the fact or even point it out would have had their faces removed, but the it still could not be denied. To her words, Zan could say but two of his own.

"Thank you."

How had he managed to survive all that time alone, so isolated that it killed something within him every step he took? No beating she'd taken before, in this world and in the other one had ever left her feeling something so raw, as if someone had flayed her from the inside out and left her exposed to the salt filled air. She could feel something fall gently against her head, soaking in to reach her scalp as she held on with all the strength she could find in her small body.

All that pain, all that loneliness; why hadn't any of them seen it before? It couldn't have been hidden unless they were purposefully choosing to ignore it themselves.

"I'm sorry,"

Somehow, it was all Sekai could manage to say, repeating those two words over and over again until she managed to calm herself down in the littlest bit. Shakily pulling herself up, thankful he was more solid and grounded thann she ever was, the little Archer scrubbed at her sore eyes with the back of one hand, the other still holding tightly to his as she tugged on the front of his trenchcoat and spoke.

"No more,"

Her voice was still tear thickened and slightly hoarse as she tried to clear her throat and continue.

"No more being alone."

Zan did nothing to stop her from saying she was sorry over and over again, too aware of how much she felt they needed to be said. To say something like 'don't be sorry' or anything of the sort would have seemed disingenuous anyway. As she got the last of it out, as she wiped her tears away the best she could, the statement that came next made Zan smile. When she'd look up to him, a quick movement of his own hand made it nearly impossible to see he had been crying at all. Stupid Twilight didn't even allow swollen eyes to last very long on him. Though, in a matter of seconds, he was the same quiet but stong-presenced player she had come to know, there was a new softness around the edge of his expression.

"Deal." Two powerful hands were lofted to her face, cradling her head as he continued. "Now was there anything you needed to get off your chest? I'm always here for you, Sekai. Now that you've seen all you have, now that you've taken up that burden, no one will ever lay painful hands upon you again without me ripping the arms they're attached to out of their fucking sockets." No apology for the language that time; he was dead serious.

Something uneasy flashed across her eyes as the harsh language coupled with the promise of someone getting their arms ripped out of their sockets clicked in with the knowledge that he knew of what her father had done to her, shame heating her cheeks as she swallowed hard and dropped her gaze. He had been open, had been more than willing to share what had plagued him for her but... how could she do the same thing using only her words when memories were more suitable if shown? Kira knew them, had access to them due to the circumstances but.. she didn't think Kira could transfer them either. A light tap within their bond of confirmation, of Kira reminding her that she could hear the thoughts let her know her guess was indeed correct; and that she'd have to do this the hard way.

"It... it isn't going to be easy to explain and,"

She shook her head a little, looking back up at him with a bit of visible frustration on her face.

"I... I won't expect you to believe all of it, it isn't anything against you, I just..."

The unspoken rest of the sentence hung in the air; 'am used to not being believed.' and stung at her every time she wanted to speak even a little bit.

"It... it does hurt but, it really isn't a burden... because a burden is something unwanted and undesired in my experience. I... I wanted to understand."

The Heavy Blade nodded at her words, understanding both the difficult of her side of the exchange and her opinion on what he had shown her. Zan knew that, in comparison, he had had it easy. Just being able to transfer the moments onto another person was so much easier than trying to talk it all out. Still, if him doing that had made him feel so much better, it could only be reasoned that her getting a few things out in the open would have a similar effect. For a girl sexually abused by her father and his 'friends' for a good portion of her life, she deserved a little relief, a little happiness.

"It's fine, mei lumen. I'm here to listen. I have no reason not to believe you, to boot. If there's anyone I know who's honest, it's you." All of his words, down to every single syllable, were filled with sincerity.

Her head whirled, where to begin and what the most important things needed to be said were hard to decide on, almost impossible to do actually. She'd have to try though, would have to make an effort at it at least a little to see how much she could say and how much she couldn't manage to speak even if she wanted to.

"I think... I think I should do this from the beginning."

Biting her lip for a moment and steeling herself for whatever little bit of courage she'd managed to build up to be used up, Sekai began to speak carefully, as if trying to keep personal feelings out of it and say it as if it were someone else's life other than her own.

"I'm sixteen years old outside this world, in my final year of senior high school. Home-schooling from... a young age made me more prepared somehow for entry exams and I was skipped ahead so, I'm the youngest in my class. My mother insisted I be tutored at home for the majority of the years... because the others in a public and private system.... they were bad influences and wouldn't be suitable for, um, making the right social connections is what I think she said."

She frowned, social standing was important from what her mother told her, though things like that seemed to work very differently here in The World than anywhere else.

"I would get more than three problems wrong... and I would be punished strictly for bringing shame to the family for being less than was expected of me. I was the only child they would have, my mother is, um, a very appearance conscious woman."

"She's a self-absorbed and vain bitch, that's what she means by appearance conscious."

Kira tossed in with a biting edge to her voice, scowling bitterly at something on the stone wall next to her when Sekai shot her a repremanding look.

"Social standing... it's important in the business world. The company my father owns... it's still fairly small in comparison to a lot of them out there but, it's done well enough to attract some attention every so often in the stocks and to business owners around the area. My mother tries to elevate her status when she can, to secure a more... um, lavish and showy life as she expected to have before she was pregnant."

She squirmed a little, memories of the parties, all of them no expenses spared and all of them used in some elaborate game and power struggle that could make or break the foundation of glass beneath their feet.

"As the heiress, and as unexpected as I was, my mother believes she knows exactly what's acceptable for someone of my standing and wanted to show me the best she could... even if I didn't agree. I think... before everything happened, she was looking to arrange a marriage for me to a bigger corporate head's son in hopes of aquiring it and merging the two."

That was clearly something new even to Kira by the look on the AI's face... and a subject that looked like it caused Sekai a lot of grief by turning it over in her mind so much.

"I-I could be wrong though, it may just be she wanted me to mingle in with, um, those who have families in higher places. It's... a world in which I was born into but, um, I don't really... belong there. I'm more satisfied with the quiet and having what the average human being needs to survive and communicate these days. But once... once I was given The World to try out, a copy of my own anyway... things only progressively began getting better... and then worse."

Kira raised an eyebrow at the statement, completely shameless that she'd caused some of the progress to get worse and not at all regretting any of it.

"In The World, I was able to be a little bit different, someone other than who I was supposed to be and a person I could feel free to be without worrying about my mother finding out and becoming angry or making an unfixable mistake. In... a way I was free from any kind of responsibilty for such a small amount of time. I didn't realize how much more was behind this place... I thought it was all just a game people got really really into, like that one a long long time ago that came out when I was little."

Sekai found herself smiling at some of the memories.

"A person named Ashura-san led me around my first dungeon... never did hear from him again and became friends with another person named Sesshomaru. It... was through him that I met Ko_Inuyasha, he's, um, like an older brother now."

She said sheepishly, embarrassed to admit it for some reason or another. Though she violently repressed that part of their meeting and sent it to the back of her mind. There was no way she was going to bring him up right now, not now and not if she didn't have to.

"I went to a lot of fields with those two and we... had fun until Sesshomaru decided to disappear, I haven't seen him for a long time and neither has Ko... as sfar as I know anyway. Raquar and I, we met in the recruitment for the Army of Darkness, same with Sasuke-taisho. That's... the reason he and I don't like bricks, especially the red ones because of how many levels it was filled with nothing but that, torches and monsters. Um... Kira and I finally became aware of each other's existence in that same recruitment too, same with Raquar and Torvald-san."

Said AI smirked as if she had her own opinions on how that whole piece went but kept herself quiet.

"After all of that ended... that's where things began to decline rapidly,"

She touched the place her temple would be, a typical sign of someone who suffred memory loss or a headache that particularly pained.

"I was... sleeping more, would get sick more often and didn't remember when things would happen or if I'd even attended a function my mother asked me to. Things in The World began changing, at some point the lines blurred and Kira was suddenly there, or at least, I think she was and wound up hurting someone at school. The only other option... was I did it, I'd like to think I'm not capable of that kind of violence but..."

The Eventide Crescendo had showed her what she'd been capable of if pushed too far; absolute madness and insanity.

"Then my mother and father got into the worst fight they'd had yet... and the secret was let out of the bag. I couldn't... I couldn't believe it. Not until I saw the bottle itself in the hallway and it sank in. I wanted nothing more than... than to disappear."

"All... all I could do was lie there, no idea what happened and then the next thing I knew, I was in the cathedral and Kira was there... and then I slept. Things happened and I don't know, she'll know and b able to tell you. I woke later and Kira tried to help me adjust as best she could but, there were incidents that I couldn't ignore and couldn't be kept secret from me."

Something visibly changed, a haunted look returning to her eyes, one that looked similiar to one if the subject of Tiral or the Eventide Crescendo had been brought up in front of Raquar.

"Ko and I, we were in Mac Anu and saw Raquar following behind this group of people, all of them with this purposeful expression on their faces as they went for the Chaos Gate. I didn't.... he and I didn't know any of them but something about them combined with Kira's reaction to an item they had in their possession had us all on edge. I'm... the second in command, the Operations Officer of the Army of Darkness... I have to be there if one of my clan members are in trouble, it's my responsiblity to protect them when Sasuke-taisho can't be there."

Her shoulders slumped in a sign of defeat.

"It... became hell very, very quickly. I didn't know what was going on...it hadn't been long after I'd just woken up... in a sense, that this happened and we got seperated, divided by these statues into different fields."

A whisper of dread, of dull memory that came with those who'd witnessed something they still couldn't get to leave their minds.

"The Ponderer, The Keeper, and The Devourer; mind, soul and body... we didn't see it coming, see what the reprucussions would be when we made our choices. Ko and I, we were in The Keeper's field and it,"

Sekai broke off, shuddering and feeling the bite of memory, of small hands pulling at her, trying to dig and tear her apart with blood in her eyes and mouth. The moon laughing cruelly at her as she fled, branches of living trees of bone snapping at her as the hoard of children chased after her as a hound would a rabbit.

"it caused me to go insane.I saw him everywhere, the blood and the laughter... and I attacked him, I attacked Ko because I saw the one I feared instead. Kira had to, had to come out to protect my mind, to defend what was left of my sanity until we met Mother. Even... even the Devil-san in the Hub before Angel-san's hadn't done as cruel as what Mother had done. Her... her children, she drowned them all and was sent into a coma promised to her by someone who spoke to her on the phone."

She closed her eyes, it was almost over, almost. Just a little further and she could stop.

"We managed to get out, to defeat her because her children's vengeful spirits assaulted her, leaving her mind as fragmented and insane as my own.... and we had to kill her to get out of there, to get the shard of the Vak Crystal around her neck to help fight the Highers and prevent them from getting the Crystal first. The tower was empty and then a riddle came forth when we stood at the top."

Tears threatened in her voice as she recounted the last moments, the ones he didn't know about that had brought her to where she was with them, with the Freedom Fighters.

"We didn't know what would happen and then... then Tiral made the choice. His soul, oh god, his soul was ripped from him, it's in the crystal and he's still burning alive in there. He's still screaming, still asking why we hadn't stopped him, hadn't found another way and he's still suffering. We... we lost him, the Rue Crystal and the Vak Crystal began, I don't know if they were warring or if they were trying to merge into each other but, orange code began to burst out of it and devoured everything in sight."

Her face was pale, voice shaking as the memories flooded out of her.

"I didn't see Raquar attack Raven, to get him out of the way and take the hit. It happened so fast and all I saw was that line of it go for Ko. I didn't... I couldn't think anymore. He'd... he'd been there the whole time, always came in and saved me, protected me when that thing had showed up and attacked, like Kira always was too and... I had to get him out. He, he has a family, people waiting at home for him to show up for dinner, who care that he's there and need him to survive. I decided to protect him, the one and only time I've ever been able to protect someone, it was the one that ended up counting the most."

She swallowed hard and opened her eyes, looking right up at Zan with a small sign of fierce defense in her expression.

"He didn't go into a coma and he's still with his family. I didn't know the way it all would end but I did it anyway. He's... still mad at me for it I think, but more because he thinks he was supposed to protect me and Raquar. I had to do it, there wasn't another option."

A long, heavy sigh escaped.

"That's... the short version, I think, of why I'm here as I am now."

The werewolf did his best to take in everything she said, to not only listen to it but give it the weight and serious consideration that it deserved. Her mother...God, what a royal, conceded, vain bitch. Kira and Zan were on the same page with that opinion. Then there was talk of her father and it took that hard-won control, something the lycanthrope had feared lossed recently but now felt renewed with their bond, not to let the Beast rise to the surface at his mention. How someone could defile their own daughter like that...how they could let others do it in turn...it made his already-hot blood boil that much further. If the Lycan ever saw the man some day, he'd kick his motherfucking ass in a heartbeat. It was just that simple.

Still...it all, bless her little heart, made him actually thankful for the childhood he had had. Abusive father, suicidal mother? So? At least, once upon a time, they had loved him as much as any parent had ever been capable of loving their child. Even now, Zan's dad was getting better. He was sober. They had, for one moment, reconnected at the foot of Lowen's grave. When he got out, he had a future with his family. Sekai didn't seem so lucky.

When the Eventide Crescendo's adventures got their turn, a unique contemplation was given. It wasn't only that of a caring ear, but a strategic mind. If he was going to be fighting with them soon, he wanted to know as much as he could. The player found himself actually growing momentarily - and it was just that, for a moment - afraid of the Highers. The Elites were scary and powerful and evil, there was no doubt, but they had never hit him as soul sick as the bastards the Eventides had come up with. Ordering someone to kill their children so you could comatose yourself and act as some monster guardian of a stupid crystal? God damn. At the same time, it made a part of Zan happy. It seemed he really was going to be helping the helpless with the Eventides. The Highers were a group that needed to be shut down and soon.

"I can't even begin to say how sorry I am that you had to endure the things you did from your mother and your father - both terms I feel obligated to use loosely in reference to them. I know you don't have family you say are close...but that's just in blood. From where I'm standing? You and I? Now, we are family. Blood is science, family is soul. I don't need genetics to tell me who my brothers and sisters are. I have one standing here, right in front of me, and she's the bravest, strongest girl I've ever met in my life. I mean that." Giving her a playful, slightly humored rub on the top of her head, he continued. "And now I know the Eventides really are doing something that needs to be done. I'm proud to be with people that fight, day by day, to take down a group as sadistic as the Highers. The Elites are bad, sure, and their whole 'let's comatose millions' thing is aweful...but I don't know. They seem kind of tame, for some reason, next to those sick sons of a bitch." Zan turned his eye down the alleyway, staring into the direction they had been heading. "What do you say? Shall we go do some good, mei lumen?" The smile on the werewolf's face as he looked back to her was...new. It was good. It felt good.

Sekai's face reddened, making a face at the ruffling of her hair as an only sign of playful protest and in turn, once the conversation turned serious, looked down the alley as well where Nemera-san would be waiting, along with Takua-san and whoever else remained left within that small group. Mind, body and soul, the Highers didn't pull punches, the Elites were bad news, very very powerful but, were almost like bored people who schemed to, well, amuse themselves for some supposed higher purpose.

"The Elites... I don't have any experience with as far as I know other than the Flashmail communications between Marionette-san and the two of us. They seem, I don't know, bored somehow, like they do it only because there's nothing else to do... I'm... I'm very likely wrong about that but,"

She swallowed hard and forced the words past her lips.

"The Highers... they're still human enough to want that same kind of power by any means... no matter who or what they have to cut down to get it."

She tried to give him a smile, one that would be somewhat reassuring that she was ready for whatever would come her way in the field, that it would be easier with him there. But even Sekai didn't believe that small lie she told herself and absently said the same thing she'd heard Kira say on a few occasions.

"Humans are the cruelest beings in existence, even a program or anomaly can't compare to what we're capable of doing to each other and others if it suits us."

Sekai thought on it for a moment.

"I... certainly know where she's coming from when she said that but, I think we're also capable of being the kindest and the most gentle with each other too, there has to be an opposite, balancing side to things, doesn't there?"

Zan nodded his agreement to her words, her summary of the Elites oddly fitting for someone who had never actually met them. The comment on humanity, on both sides of the coin made the Lycan smirk a little...if only how completely true it was. "I think you're right, lumen. If they're the cruel ones, it's up to us to be noble and champions, yeah?" Though it was said with a bit of a chuckle, there was truth to it just the same.

A hand was offered to her while the two others, Nul and Kira, were lightly beckoned to them. "It's time to show the Highers why you don't mess with 'The World' and those within it."

Sekai studied him a little, only slightly unsure that he'd taken full stock of just what the Highers were capable of doing, though she supposed the bit about the soul being taken, thrown into a crystal and sealed were about as bad as one could possibly get when someone added in a burning in hell for eternity twist to it. She reached and accepted his hand, looking behind her to make sure Nulus and Kira were following along and noted the rather intense 'I see what you did' stare Kira was giving her and gave her a look in return.

"It's... okay to be a little scared of what we don't know, right?"

It was a stupid question, one that she wasn't wanting to clarify if asked but, that was okay, she could get an answer nonetheless and feel a little better about the sinking feeling in her gut, of knowledge that, somehow, something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong in this field.

"Even the bravest fighters feel a little afraid of what they're going to face on the way there, we'll show them that even that little bit isn't going to stop us."

Zan had taken as much stock in the situation, in what she had told him as any person who hadn't actually witnessed it could. With her hand in his own, he began the walk down the alley, the pace just slow enough to allow the Archer at his side to take lead. She did, after all, know the exacts of the meeting place more than he did. As to her question...

"It'd be stupid if we weren't. I know I am." That was something, had it been anybody else, the Lycan would have never admitted. "And you're right on that last part as well. Fear is a respect for the situation. When you stop respecting something as serious as the Highers...that's when you die. That's when you get everyone around you killed too."

It was walking down the alley, his and Sekai’s hands eventually parting, that Zan held himself with a new purpose. Choosing the Archer to trust, to give a piece of himself to, had been the right decision. Control over the Beast was his again and now his mourning of Lowen finally felt…healthy. The guilt of his murders would never pass, and they never should. They would still, however, provide him with all the motivation he needed to start really making a difference in ‘The World.’ Zan, Sekai and the Eventide Crescendo…together they’d show the Highers that they didn’t own them…

…and they never would.

Zan: + 3 levels, + Linen Cuirass, + Forest Sword, + Plasma Blade, x2 Green Gale

...the grunt mints. THEY LIKE YOU!

I'm barely coherant so I'll reread this when I wake up to really give you the good commentary and feedback.

Excellant work as usual~!