Page 4120

He remained steady. And aware. Dividing his attention between these two starkly different worlds. That was very much necessary, at the moment. The world of darkness that he'd stepped into. And the normal world--which also wasn't looking terribly normal at the moment, what with these giant black monoliths everywhere and the floating man in gleaming armor right in front of him.

A man who was still speaking to him so casually, too, even though Hector could tell that his attention was also split, right now. What a supremely odd feeling.

"Apologies if I'm coming across a bit mopey," Sermung was saying. "Nostalgia is sometimes a double-edged sword, I feel."

"...Is this armor reminding you of someone in particular?" said Hector.

The man paused at that. The distracted aspect of his aura shifted. More of his attention was turning toward Hector now. "Not just your armor," he said slowly. "You carry yourself in a similar manner, as well. I find it... hmm..."

Hector didn't push. He understood where that sentence had been going and didn't need the man to articulate it aloud. "It's okay," he said. "I'd like to help you, if I can."

And beneath, in the other world, so many things were still being revealed to him. Too many, quite frankly. So much information at once.

This guy was suddenly an open book.

Or seemed to be, at least. This was an emperor, after all. There had to be all sorts of operational secrets that the guy didn't wish to share, of course, but Hector wasn't interested in any of that. And perhaps he could tell. Perhaps that was why he was willing to share so much.

"Sorry again," said Sermung. "I don't mean to bombard you. It's the strangest thing, I--"

"It's alright," said Hector, even as he sifted through it all. So much suffering. Holy fucking shit. It reminded him of the Candle's memories but so much more potent. So much more personal. Truly, deeply felt.

The Candle's memories had felt more like observations. Largely neutral in terms of emotions, even if when they were revealing utterly horrific events.

But these were soaked with emotion. Like bleeding wounds. Hector very nearly confused them with his own emotions. If he didn't catch himself--guard himself--he might've very well gotten swept away in the tide.

He had to concentrate. Bring everything to bear. No distraction. Sort through as much as he could with as many different thought processes as he could. While still remaining awake and cogent in the real world, too.

Wow.

Next page on June 2nd

Thanks for reading, everybody.

EDIT: Yeah, okay, I meant July. But of 2027. Hah. I'm kidding. Or am I? Hmm.

Page 4119

The world had shifted all around him. Darkened and stretched, molded and compressed, swirling and sinking. Pulling on him. Mentally. Physically. Every which way. Even his aura senses were smothered. Hell, even the Scarf was blinded.

But still, Hector did not budge.

There was no reason to panic.

Garovel wanted to. Hector could sense that.

But it was okay, Garovel. Everything was fine.

Sermung didn't harbor any malice or ill will. The man hadn't even wanted to let Hector in like this. In fact, he still didn't, even now. Hector could sense reservation still in here. A contrarian desire to be left alone, despite all this misery and mayhem.

Ah, wait a minute. There was a second aura at work. Was that Sermung's reaper? Inviting Hector in despite Sermung's reluctance. Or perhaps it was the other way around? Difficult to tell when the two auras were so deeply intertwined.

Time seemed to be losing meaning now, too. With everything around him distorted like this--darkened and concealed--Hector couldn't even feel the outside world anymore.

But that wasn't such an abnormal occurrence for him, at this point.

Still no reason to panic.

Him and Sermung in an ocean of darkness.

And Sermung wasn't even entirely here, Hector realized. The aura was distracted. Perhaps the man's mind was elsewhere. Still talking to him out in the real world? Or perhaps it was gone even further afield? Thinking of greater problems, far away?

Anything to get away from the boredom. The dwelling. The endless death and suffering.

Wow.

Familiar, yet not.

Obviously, all this stuff was far older and deeper than anything Hector had experienced. Shit. So this was how bad it could get, huh? This was his future if Garovel hadn't saved him, wasn't it? Or perhaps it still was, and Garovel had merely delayed it.

Goddamn.

Emotions swirling. Making their silent arguments. Trying to sway him. Convince him of their dark truths. Their morbid pragmatisms. Their tragic inevitabilities.

And yet, still, Hector did not budge.

He was a fortress, and they were not welcome inside. It didn't matter how powerful they were in Sermung's mind or anyone else's. His own will was the arbiter of his emotions. No one else.

But he did sympathize. He allowed that much, at least. The familiarity of it all was impossible to ignore. The unspeakable desperation.

It wanted answers. Solutions.

Hector didn't know if he could provide those. But also didn't know that he couldn't. Not for certain, anyway. Not without trying, at least.