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Hector shook his head as he started backing up on his motorcycle. ‘Y’know, Garovel... sometimes, you can be a little TOO honest.’

‘Hey, it’s not like you need to win,’ the reaper said. ‘Just try not to die too quickly.’

‘Super helpful, thanks.’ He kept one hand on the iron wall as he moved along, returning down the path he’d come from. The metal floor proved rather slippery against the soles of his shoes and the bike’s tires, but he had to move slowly anyway in order to ensure that Harper followed him, lumbering and eerily silent.

‘You could try talking to him,’ said Garovel. ‘Probably won’t do any good, but it’s worth a shot.’

‘Egh...’ Hector soon reached the end of the tunnel and so had to add on to it. He created an empty room on the other side of the wall, and then annihilated said wall. And repeated the process each time. ‘How far away do I have take him?’

‘Not much farther, I’d imagine. I can barely even sense your soul at this range. Roman will be heading back to help you soon.’

He could see Harper’s pace increasing. “Mr. Harper, sir... heh... y-you don’t wanna attack me, right? Garovel’s just... worried for no reason, yeah? You’ve totally got this battle-trance-thing under control... I’m sure we won’t have to--”

Faster still.

Hector armored up.

It was a lot to keep track of. Growing the tunnel. Maintaining the soul-empowerment. And now armoring himself, too. He had to simplify the metal attire, and much of it was reduced to mere coatings, leaving only space for his joints to bend freely.

As Harper drew too close, Hector raised a wall between them. Darkness enveloped the young man as Harper’s light was cut off.

But only for a moment.

Harper broke through, glowing white, and smashed Hector in the chest. The impact shattered the iron breastplate and sent Hector flying off his bike and through the wall behind him. He bounced through the mud, toppling over himself again and again, still not stopping until he slid up next to a familiar rock formation, the one Garovel had called Rathmore’s Gate.