Page 3236

Hector paused. Truthfully, he'd been about to ask the same thing. Either that, or the Vanguard. He wasn't sure which one he would've asked after first. "...No, I'm not. Are you?"

'No. But are you being truthful? It is okay if you are a member. It will not prompt me to attack you, if that is what you are thinking. I promise.'

"Yes, I'm being truthful. Are you?"

'Heh. Yes. In fact, I am quite the opposite of Abolish.'

Hector had a feeling. "So you're with the Vanguard, then?"

'I am. Is that a problem for you?'

That was a loaded question with many ways of being answered. Hector decided to keep things simple, though. Much like this guy here, he wasn't trying to make enemies for no reason. "Not at all. Do you know Harper Norez?"

'As a matter of fact, I do. Charming fellow. With a good heart.'

"I can only agree. I consider him a friend."

'That is heartening to hear. Might you be willing to tell me your name, now?'

Agh. That was a tough one. All things considered, it would probably be fine to say that much. It was only his name. But still, Hector was hesitant. He knew only too well that the Vanguard was not wholly good and trustworthy.

He decided to risk it. "I'll tell you my name first, if you promise to tell me yours after."

'A fair exchange. Very well.'

Hector didn't mind going first, because this way, if the guy reneged on his promise, then he would still learn something about the man's character. Namely, that he couldn't be trusted to keep his word. And that would be a much more valuable piece of information to have. "My name is Hector."

'Mine is Xander. Nice to meet you.'

"Same." The gears in Hector's brain started turning as soon as he heard that. Xander? Xander... A Vanguardian named Xander.

It was familiar, though he wasn't sure where he'd heard it from. He recalled Garovel telling him about some of the Vanguard higher-ups. The most famous among them. Maybe it had been then. Because now he was recalling.

"...You're the Magician of Light," said Hector. "The keeper of the Golden Hour."

The Golden Hour was a Fusion Forge, one of the most coveted objects on the planet, just like Cocora's Candle. On second thought, maybe it was Abbas who'd told him about the Magician.

Or... maybe this was knowledge that the Candle itself had imparted to him. Somehow, his uncertainty made Hector feel like that might actually be the most likely explanation. Which was a little worrying, in its own way.

Page 3235

'I speak, by the way, in terms relative to the normal world. If you were to visit a Higher Realm, you would not suddenly age fifty years in a day. I mean to say that after having spent a day in a Higher Realm, many months or even years might pass by the time you return home.'

"How do you know that if you've never visited one yourself?" said Hector.

'Because I've known some who have. And also, as I said before, I have my tricks.'

Right. Sounded like this guy wasn't going to give him any more details, but it was at least nice to know that he wasn't losing tons of time while stuck in this place. He supposed in the back of his mind, he'd had a feeling that was the case. His first encounter with Rasalased had worked the same way, so it made sense.

'Now allow me to ask another question of you.'

"It's only fair, I guess. Go ahead. But since you're being a little cagey, then I reserve the right to be the same way."

'Fair, indeed. I want to know if you have met a man with a big scar over his right eye.'

Hector had to think about that. He'd met a lot of different people, especially recently. Ravi Zaman came to mind, though he didn't quite fit the description. "I've only met a man with a scar on the right side of his face. It's not over the eye."

'I see.'

"Who is he? What's his name?" Hector fully expected for these questions not to get answered, but the voice surprised him.

'Some call him the Godslayer.'

"Wow," said Hector. "Now that's a nickname. I've never heard it before, though. Sorry."

'That's alright. It was a shot in the dark. I would've been shocked if you knew him.'

"This Godslayer guy is an important friend of yours, I take it?"

'Yes.'

"With a name like that, he sounds pretty strong."

'Quite.'

Hmm. Hector still had other questions he wanted to ask, but his curiosity about the current topic had been piqued. "Is this guy lost or something?"

'That is debatable.'

Seemed like the voice was being stingy with the details again. Hector decided to push a bit more. "How would it be debatable? Either he's lost or he's not."

'It doesn't matter. Allow me to ask a different question.'

"Okay...?"

'Are you a member of Abolish?'

Page 3234

"Anything you could tell me about them would be appreciated," said Hector. "I have a feeling that I'll be encountering them again, relatively soon." Assuming he ever made it out of this place, that was. But he could ask about that next, he figured.

The voice took a moment to answer him, perhaps debating how much he wanted to say. 'I have heard talk of a recent... breakthrough among a certain group of transfigurers. Supposedly, they have been able to achieve some truly monstrous forms, akin to, as you mentioned, dinosaurs.'

He'd heard talk, huh? Hector doubted that the guy would tell him where from, but decided to ask, anyway. "Where'd you hear that?"

'I'm afraid that might be revealing too much about myself.'

Well, at least he was straightforward about his refusal to answer. "Do you know if they have any weaknesses?"

'I do not. If I did, you can be assured that I would tell you.'

Oh? "So you're not on their side, then?"

And the voice paused again, probably thinking. '...No, I am not. Nor would it seem are you. We might have more in common than we realized.'

"Maybe so." Hector was still wary of growing too trustful, though. And before he started asking riskier questions, he wanted to get some fundamental stuff out of the way. "But first, can you tell me what this place actually is? You called it a Lower Realm?"

'Yes. Or a Foundational World, as some call it. A place where only a single element resides. A building block of the world of the living. The world that, I suspect, you and I both come from.'

Hmm. "Does that mean there are Higher Realms, too?"

'I believe so, though I have yet to visit any of them personally. And I pray I never do, as should you.'

"Why?"

'Hyper time dilation,' said the voice. 'In the Lower Realms, time passes more slowly. MUCH more slowly. This factor alone can be of great benefit, though as I expect you've already realized, merely existing in these places puts a great strain on you. I would advise you to leave as soon as you are able.'

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that next, but go on. Are you about to tell me that the Higher Realms are the opposite?"

'Indeed. Time passes far more quickly. So if you are ever unlucky enough to find yourself there, it may well be the end of everything you currently know and love by the time you return. Hence why I have never had a strong desire to visit, though I admit they do intrigue me greatly.'

Holy shit.

Page 3233

'You are welcome. But you did not answer my first question. This atmosphere is helpful to you, no?'

What a strange thing to ask. "Why are you so curious about that? Are you not human?"

'Yes, I'm human, but I wasn't sure that YOU were. And I didn't want to assume. Some traversers of these realms actually quite dislike atmosphere. And if that were the case, I wanted you to know that it was not an act of hostility on my part but an attempt to provide aid.'

What the hell? He was gaining new questions to ask by the second. "How did you make this atmosphere, by the way?"

'Oh, I have my tricks. I'm afraid that's all I'm comfortable saying on that particular subject.'

Uh-huh. "Okay, then who's the last person or... entity that you've met here?"

'You're being quite pushy, now. I have questions of my own that I would have you answer, first.'

Maybe that was a fair point. Hector felt like he should relax a little. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to be mean. I'm just... kinda confused about what's happening, right now."

'So it really IS your first time here, then.'

He supposed he could admit that much, at least. "Yeah." He paused, rethinking. "Well, actually. Maybe not. But probably."

'Now I am the confused one.'

"I guess what I'm saying is... I've had similar experiences to this before. But not the same, I think."

'Interesting. Might I ask how you came to find yourself here?'

Hector had to think about that for a moment. The answer that came to mind was going to sound stupid, but. Eh. Whatever. "...I got eaten by a dinosaur."

'P-pardon me?'

"Well, technically, I guess it was only half-dinosaur."

'That doesn't make your explanation any more sensible to me.'

Hector bobbed his head. "I'm just telling you what happened. If I had a more sensible explanation, I would've given it."

'Are dinosaurs... or half-dinosaurs common where you come from?'

"Not at all," said Hector. "They're supposed to be extinct."

'Ah. A shame. I would've liked to learn of a new realm in which dinosaurs still existed.'

"Well, the one I met was a real asshole. But like I said, he was only half-dinosaur."

'And so, after being eaten by this creature, you found yourself here?'

"That's right."

'...Now that I am thinking about it, I find that quite believable. And very worrying.'

"Oh? You know something about the dinosaur men?"

'Perhaps. I've not heard them described with such... curt terminology before, nor have I encountered them myself yet, but yes, I think I might know something of them.'

Page 3232 -- CCLXXIV.

Chapter Two Hundred Seventy-Four: 'O, twinkling Visitor...'
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)

With breath in his lungs and air all around him for his voice to carry, Hector spoke his first question. "Who are you?"

'A reasonable thing to ask, but perhaps we should both avoid answering that.'

What the--? Impulsively, Hector wanted to ask why, but then he took a moment to mull it over. This voice didn't wish to identify itself? Why might that be? One reason came immediately to mind.

Perhaps the voice belonged to someone with a lot of enemies, and they feared that Hector might unknowingly be one. So they were trying to be cautious in their approach.

Maybe.

He could still press a little more before just assuming that, he supposed. "Why? It's impolite not to introduce yourself, you know."

'Rudeness is the least of your concerns, I should think. Unless I am mistaken and you came to be in this place intentionally?'

"Well, let's just say I'm wary of strangers no matter where I go." It didn't help that he still couldn't see. As far as the Scarf was telling him, there were no physical bodies other than himself within this air bubble, so where exactly was this voice coming from? It felt very familiar to a reaper's voice in the way that it spoke directly into his mind, but it wasn't quite the same, either.

It felt more like a Sparrow's telepathic voice, though he wasn't sure.

'Fair. Then can we at least agree that neither of us here is looking for a fight?'

"I never do look for fights," said Hector, "but they always seem to look for me."

'Hah. A problem I know well. Tell me, is this your first time in a Lower Realm?'

Is that what these things were called? Hmm. Hector didn't see any benefit in answering his question, though.

Wait, his? Yeah. The voice seemed masculine, somehow.

At his persistent silence, the voice continued on, 'Well, if it IS your first time, then allow me to proffer advice. As a general rule, anyone you meet in these places is not to be trifled with. I do not know your heart, but if it is that of a prankster or wicked man, then you should first be aware that any enemy you decide to make here will be no minor adversary.'

Huh. Sounded like Hector's guess had been right on the money. "Thanks for the warning."

Page 3231

So he spent even more time touching it up. And when he was finally satisfied with all of his practical concerns, he was left to consider his aesthetic ones. Should he add some embossed flourishes? Some tracing lines around the edges, maybe? A filigree ornamentation for the breastplate?

None of that felt particularly important, and given how goddamn stubborn the material had now become, even a simple flourish would likely take several extra passes in order to get right.

Ultimately, he decided against it. If he wanted to add fancy shit, he could try some other time. And if he couldn't work with it anymore once he got back to the real world, then so be it. He could always just add an extra layer of iron on top for that kind of thing.

So he finally allowed himself to relax. That was certainly tiring.

But he was wearing a full suit of armor now, and it sure was nice. It definitely wasn't vacuum sealed or anything like that, but when he sank to the ground and lay down on his back, Hector just started to feel... better.

Thus far, this place had felt like it was slowly sapping his strength, probably due to the combination of no oxygen and a deteriorating physical body. But now, in this armor, things were different. It would've been a stretch to say that he was recovering, but he at least felt stable. Comfortable.

Protected.

Then again, maybe that was just the afterglow of finishing a difficult project. The feeling of accomplishment sure was pleasant. He wanted to bask in it for a while longer.

He took a long, deep breath as he tried to regather his thoughts. He needed to get back to--

Wait a minute, what?

His eyes opened, but there was nothing to see. Only blackness. He took another breath, now even more confused.

The Scarf of Armordiin. He'd been wearing it the whole time he'd been here, but he'd nearly forgotten about it, since it wasn't giving him any information.

Until now.

He could sense it. A pocket of air enveloped him, a bubble no bigger than a closet. When had that happened? His ears popped, too, intensely though not painfully.

This wasn't the work of his armor, right? That would make no sense. And the bubble went beyond the suit, so--

'Pardon me,' arrived an unfamiliar voice. 'This atmosphere is helpful to you, no? If not, I can take it back.'

Page 3230

As he worked, he lost track of time. His focus was exclusively on the task. Helmet. Gorget. Pauldrons. Breastplate. Each piece needed refinement upon refinement. Rerebraces. Couters. Gauntlets. Faulds. Tasset. It was a good thing he had already spent so much time working on his normal iron armor and all its variants. Culet. Cuisses. Poleyns. Greaves. Lames. He had a perfect image of every piece in his mind.

It was just a matter of passing over each one, again and again and again. Until they were all done.

And it needed to be perfect, Hector felt. He didn't know if he would get the opportunity to do this again. If he made a mistake now, it might just last forever.

No pressure, though, right?

At length, he finally began to feel like it was almost done. The shapes were all correct, at least. So with his eyes still closed, he set about trying to link them all together. And the best way to do that was put them on.

But after all that work, he was a bit worried that annihilating and rematerializing them onto his body would somehow go awry. What if they resisted even being dematerialized. Or what if they wouldn't rematerialize correctly?

Shit. No helping it, though. The entire goal was to be able to materialize the armor as needed. If that didn't work, then it was better to know now, he supposed.

He would've taken a nervous breath if he could.

He annihilated the gorget. That was the best place to start, he felt. Then he tried to rematerialize it around his neck.

It appeared. He felt it there. Exactly as intended.

Oh, thank fuck. That was one worry down.

He annihilated all the rest and began donning them, making to test all the links. And it was a good thing he did, because they needed fixing. At this point, his iron had become quite comfortable to wear and even quite easy to move in, and he intended for the same to be true with this stuff.

Every link, every connector, every interlocking piece was refined further. Until they were all perfect. They had to be. If they weren't, then both mobility and resilience would be compromised. Maybe in only minor ways, but if this suit was going to be the difference between life and death, then Hector didn't think anything about it right now could be considered minor.

Page 3229

Even now, however, the metal was reluctant to listen to him. It melted back down, but only very slowly. Painfully slowly.

It was as if it had gotten too comfortable with its solid form and resented being made gooey again.

How weird. He had a sneaking suspicion that in the real world, it wouldn't listen to him at all. Maybe it was only malleable in this place.

Hmm. If that was the case, then he needed to make his time here count.

Which was a strange thing to think, he knew. He still had no real plan for escaping, other than causing a big ruckus.

But that was beside the point. He focused.

If he wanted it to become armor, then he needed to reshape it.

To reforge it.

Because that was what this process was starting to feel like. Difficult and slow, requiring full concentration. Thankfully, he could sense the full shape and volume of the goo in his mind now, giving him a clear, three-dimensional picture of it to work with. But actually making it do what he wanted was still so hard.

After a while, he managed to find a kind of rhythm. A grinding rhythm, but a rhythm, nonetheless.

He had to strain his mind, at max intensity, in short and sharp bursts. Not unlike hitting it with a hammer. With each pass, the goop barely budged at all, but that was enough. Because each time, it stayed. It didn't settle back into itself.

It seemed to be growing even more difficult over time, though. More rigid and unwilling to bend. Hector couldn't tell if that was because the metal itself was becoming more resistant to him or if he was just getting tired.

Ugh. This wasn't a normal exhaustion, either. He'd felt it before, many times. This was an almost purely mental exhaustion. His numb body still felt fine, even though it most certainly wasn't.

But he couldn't stop. Not yet. If he allowed himself to fall asleep in this realm, he had no idea if he would be able to wake up again. There was a better-than-fair chance that his body would just dissolve into nothingness, he felt.

And now he was being reminded of all the shit he'd been through before arriving here, too. That fight with Banda hadn't exactly been a relaxing experience, either.

He stayed determined. He had to finish this armor, no matter how difficult it became. He knew beyond doubt that he would have great need of it if he ever managed to get out of here.

Page 3228

Agh, he never felt very good at naming things. He supposed it didn't matter too much, though. This was just for himself, for his own ease of use when materializing. It wasn't like with the Candle, where picking a bad name might have negative consequences later.

...Or was it like that?

Oh fuck, now he was starting to worry. This place wasn't normal. This black metal wasn't normal. While he might've had a better sense of its nature, thanks to whatever the hell he was doing with his meditation right now, he still couldn't be entirely sure that something weird like that was out of the question.

Maybe he was overthinking. In fact, that was probably the case. He just needed to pick something that was fitting. And easy to remember. And short. It wouldn't do if he had to rattle off some long ass name in the middle of a fight.

Something like... Chaos? That was nice and short. Maybe not too fitting, though. The reason he'd thought of it was because the black stuff kinda seemed like it might be born from Chaos, like the Beast of Lorent supposedly had. So in that sense, it might've been fitting, but now that he was evaluating the name more... it seemed inappropriate for something that was supposed to protect him.

Hmm.

Well, maybe he could nail down the name later. There was still more to learn about the material itself, he felt. More to its nature.

It needed to be close to him. And it was strong. Difficult to move. Difficult to be moved. Stubborn, even.

Yeah. That was the word for it. Stubborn. It didn't want to give in to anyone or anything, even him. The only reason it made an exception for him at all was because...

Because it was him. Part of him.

Right.

He decided to make it move. To reshape both the pyramid and the cube.

He wanted to see if they could become goop again and "infect" more of the iron beneath them. It seemed as though, once they'd become solid, the infection had stopped spreading.

Maybe infection was the wrong term for it, though. That made it sound like a bad thing, and he was fairly sure that it wasn't. If it was increasing his volume limit with the Amir-9 metal like he hoped it was, then it would, in fact, be quite a good thing.

Page 3227

Ah... this was a matter of Domain, wasn't it? It had to be.

He'd been struggling for what felt like ages trying to figure out what the power of Domain truly entailed. He'd already come to the conclusion that aura was a major factor in it, if not THE factor, but considering everything he'd learned about aura from Pauline Gaolanet, it seemed to him that there had to be more to it. She told him that everyone had an aura, so if Domain was supposed to be some kind of super special blessing from Malast, then it stood to reason that aura wasn't the only thing involved. Otherwise, Malast would've just called it aura.

Right?

Well, maybe not. Malast had been quite the cryptic asshole, not entirely unlike Rasalased in that regard, though he might've differed greatly in execution.

Whatever the case, it struck Hector as logical now that Domain might also have to do with proximity. With the area immediately around him. Perhaps that, too, was just another component or incarnation of aura, but he felt it would make sense if they were independent of one another, too.

Maybe he was splitting hairs here.

What mattered was this metal. He felt deeply within himself that he needed to give it a distinguishing name, now.

Zeff had mentioned this to him once or twice. The naming of techniques helped to codify them in one's mind, making them even easier to perform.

Could this darker metal be considered a technique? Debatable. Would giving it a name help, anyway? Probably, Hector felt.

Calling it "darksteel" was certainly a temptation. It would've been both fitting and pretty cool, he thought.

But it would also be confusing, too. He was Darksteel. Increasingly, that was what people were calling him. Whether it was because Darksteel Soldier was too much of a mouthful or because Darksteel just sounded a bit cooler, that was the name that appeared to be sticking to him.

So calling himself Darksteel and the metal darksteel wouldn't be a good idea.

Plus, it wasn't steel. Or at least, not only steel. It was, as he recalled, a complex blend of steel, titanium, and tungsten carbide.

Though, it may not have even been those things, anymore. It had appeared here as goop, after all. And it felt so similar to his normal iron, now. He couldn't be sure that this place hadn't altered it dramatically.

So rather than naming the material, maybe it would indeed be better to name the techniques that he created with it.

The armor that he created with it.

For that was what this stuff was most suited to, Hector felt.

Page 3226

It was almost like the world itself was speaking to him. Trying to tell him all about itself.

And he wanted to listen. Despite everything else going through his head, all the concerns about what was happening back in the real world or how he was ever going to get out of this place, his foremost thought right now was to listen.

If the iron wanted to talk, then he needed to let it.

It was just so difficult, though. Like a whisper that he couldn't quite make out or a picture that he couldn't quite comprehend, Hector kept struggling there in his mind.

Man, he sure wished he could breathe. Controlling his breath was one of the best ways of controlling his focus, so without it, he felt like a key ingredient was missing.

Nothing for it, though. He had to push through. Learn something new, perhaps. A previously untried method of training. Of meditation.

Yes. That was the correct mindset. This wasn't a problem. It was an opportunity. For growth.

And besides, he'd experienced similar things before. Disembodied forms where breathing wasn't a factor, either. The only thing that made this different was that he wasn't technically disembodied, this time.

In fact, that may have been the difficulty here. The bodily senses were a distraction, in their own way. Meditating in Rasalased's pocket dimension had actually been quite easy, compared to this.

Agh, he was getting distracted.

A clear mind would help him listen. Meditation wasn't always about having a clear mind, but in this instance, it most certainly was.

He felt himself sit down. A smooth and easy motion. Right next to the cube and pyramid. They were both there. He could feel their presence.

Waiting for attention from him.

But they were formless. They didn't really have minds of their own, desires of their own. He could tell that much for certain, now. It was more like... they were a detached part of himself.

He was beginning to understand. They didn't need commands. They just were. If he tried to treat them like his normal iron, it wouldn't work very well. Ever. It would be a slow, difficult process, not unlike how his own body required consistent effort and exercise in order to slowly and difficultly change.

And they needed to be close to him. He could tell that, too. It was imprinted into their very nature. The farther away they were, the weaker his connection to them would become.

Page 3225

Disappointed, Hector decided to try other things. Temperature manipulation was the first on his list.

That proved flatly impossible. With the iron, he could make it glow white hot without even remaking it. But this goop just stayed pitch black. He supposed that made sense, though. He'd had a lot more trouble learning temperature manipulation back in the real world than he had with velocity states.

What about something easier, then?

Simple shapes.

He wanted it to become a box. He concentrated hard, envisioning the exact form in his mind.

And it took a little while, but it did it. The goop gathered itself up and turned itself into a box with sharp, pristine edges. The sheen was even more pronounced now with its perfectly flat sides.

Heh. Cool. Hector couldn't help feeling pleased with himself.

Then he noticed the ground again. The goop had compacted itself so much that the ground that had previously been beneath it was now much more visible.

And it was changed. Darker like the goop. At first, he'd thought it was just a shadow, but no, upon a more thorough inspection, the iron itself had indeed gotten darker.

Had the Amir-9's goop... infected it? Transformed it?

Hector wasn't sure what to think.

Could this be... a good thing?

He tried to move the darker iron and found it similarly difficult.

Equally difficult, in fact.

Just as with the goop, he could manipulate its shape, but not without effort. He made this one a pyramid.

Then his vision flickered.

Uh-oh.

His eyes still didn't hurt at all, but they were probably not going to last much longer. And without any idea of how to get out of here or to help them, he wanted to start panicking.

But he didn't.

This place, it had a weirdly comforting presence to it. All this iron, all his iron--it felt too warm and welcoming. And besides, he'd already panicked earlier. It hadn't achieved anything before, and it wouldn't do so now.

So instead, he just closed his eyes, as if to ready himself for the darkness. Maybe that would protect them. Maybe it wouldn't. Either way was fine.

He was calm.

He was concentrating.

He was reaching out, trying to listen to all of his senses. No air for sound. No tactile feeling for touch. No eyes for vision.

And yet he was not without faculty. He could still sense the iron all around him. And the black stuff, too, actually. It was similar, yet distinct.

Page 3224

Something did indeed materialize. However, it was not a shield.

Instead, a blob appeared, dark and metallic in its sheen. It glooped onto the ground and began to slowly spread out like spilled pudding.

Very thick, black pudding.

...Huh.

That didn't seem right.

For a while, he just kind of stared at it, scratching his head and trying to understand what was happening. He crouched down for a closer look.

He was momentarily fearful that this black goop was not even his own material, that it was something else. It reminded him of not just the giant worms in the Undercrust but also those weird things he'd seen in his vision within the Candle. And maybe the Beast of Lorent, too.

But no. This wasn't any of those things, thankfully. The metallic shimmer was a very noticeable difference, for one thing.

And for another, he could just tell. He could sense it. As with his iron, it felt like it belonged to him. It had a familiarity to it.

Something was obviously wrong, though, if it was showing up like this. Why hadn't it materialized into its normal form?

In fact, this was doubly strange because he'd never even been able to make the metal of the Amir-9 into any other shape. But now he did it unintentionally?

Certainly, this place must have been the cause. How weird.

After a moment of deliberation, Hector wondered if perhaps his concentration was the issue. When it came to the Amir-9, he never had to think about it. At this point, the thing was so easy and immutable in his mind that it almost made itself, sometimes. Perhaps he'd just gotten it into his head that, because it couldn't even be changed, there was nothing even to think about.

In a way, he supposed the shield had come to feel more like an extension of his own body than an actual skill within materialization.

Hmm.

As he was about to annihilate the flattening blob and try again, however, he noticed something else.

The iron ground beneath the blob looked a little different. Maybe it was weird lighting or his own dissolving eyeballs, but it looked different.

Instead of annihilating the blob, he tried instead to move it around like he could with the iron here.

The blob just sloshed a little to the left and right, sluggish and not quite as he had imagined it to in his mind. But it had moved, at least.

Strange.

He tried again, more forceful this time, trying to push it far away from himself, to send it flying, even.

It hardly budged.

Page 3223

An earthquake arrived. An ironquake. And he felt everything shift, more violently than expected, as if the iron was eager to listen.

A mountain shot up in the distance, cracking the world apart and sending visible chunks of iron spiraling into the black sky like a volcanic eruption.

At the sight of all that, he fell on his ass and lost his concentration. He hadn't expected it to be so easy, and even the ground beneath him was still trembling for a long while after being allowed to set itself back down.

Hector was in awe.

Was his power really unlimited in this place? It sure felt like it.

He'd been so determined to create chaos only a moment ago, but now, as he lay there, feeling the lingering vibrations in the ground, he found himself questioning many things about his ability again.

If he wasn't more careful, he might accidentally kill himself.

Wait a minute.

...There was no way that would send him back to reality, right?

Agh. It might. But could he risk it? If it didn't work, then he'd really be fucked.

Yeah. That had to be reserved for his last resort, once he was all out of other ideas. For the moment, at least, he still had plenty more he wanted to try.

The main thing that was coming to his mind now was a result of his gaze falling upon his left hand.

His melting left hand.

That didn't seem good. All in all, he still felt perfectly fine and numb. But he wondered for how much longer. Would he eventually just dissolve into nothingness if he stayed here? He rubbed his chin and found it just as bad, able to feel his bare chin bone there. Kind of. The numbness made him slightly unsure, but it definitely didn't feel right.

He erected a quick iron barricade for protection against the still-setting sun's punishing rays. He doubted it would do very much, but it was better than nothing, he supposed.

There was another reason he'd looked at his left hand, though. A reason related to his ability.

With his left hand, he could materialize Haqq's shield, the Amir-9.

Up to now, he'd only been thinking about his iron, but he was suddenly very curious. How did the shield work in this place? Could he even summon it, still?

He tested it at once.

Page 3222

He needed to gather his thoughts. What was his priority, right now?

Getting back to the real world? That did seem like the most important thing, but without having any idea of where to start working that problem, it did not strike him as a solvable one.

But hmm. How did he get here to begin with? By getting eaten? Did that even explain anything?

Well. Actually. Hmm.

Banda had obviously been able to eat way more than his own body weight. And as he recalled, Bloodeye was the same way. The guy had literally pulled missiles out of his stomach.

So... was this how they were doing it? Was this place their own, personal storage dimension or something?

That would explain things, but for one snag.

There was nothing here but iron. No missiles or acid or anything else.

Then, maybe... maybe instead, this was just one of many elemental worlds. And all the things they ate were broken down to said elements for the purpose of storage? Which would mean... that when they pulled things out of their stomach, those things were being reassembled from their base elements?

Huh. If that was the case, then maybe Banda could still yack him back up. In fact, that last part was almost certain to be true, Hector felt. He could've been mistaken about everything else, but Banda had to be able to retrieve him, just like those missiles from Bloodeye.

Problem was, Banda had control. If and when Hector ever returned, it would be at Banda's whim.

...Right?

Hmm. Could it be possible to force Banda to return him?

Looking around at the empty landscape one more time, he supposed there was no harm in trying. He just wished he could think up a better plan of action than trying to get himself puked back into reality.

So he set to work.

It was time to really test the limits of power in this place. If the goal was to make Banda barf, then the only thing to do was to start creating havoc here. He had no real reason to believe that Banda would actually be impacted by anything he did in this world of iron, but at this point, it felt like his only hope.

Hector brought all of his concentration to bear, wanting everything this world could give him. He aimed to lift the entire horizon. If it truly was iron all the way out there, then he intended to see it move.

And it did.

Page 3221

He ended up sitting down and mulling things over for a while. There were about a million things that he could concentrate on or worry about, right now, but he wanted to focus on only one or two at a time. Maybe if he could come to a better understanding of his iron, then he would also come to a better understanding of whatever the hell this place was. And how to get out of here, hopefully.

Yes. He was sure that the emergent response came from his iron. The more he thought back on those moments, the more certain he became. He remembered the feeling so vividly each time. Coursing through his whole body for a brilliant instant. A flash of realization amid an electric surge.

He’d always kind of assumed that, ultimately, the response came from within himself. That the emergent power had always been there and just needed to be brought forth. Or something along those lines.

But perhaps that was a wrong assumption. Or an oversimplification, at least. If this place was the true home of his iron, then maybe the response wasn’t coming from within. Maybe it was coming from here.

From this world of iron.

Or maybe this world was within him? Now there was a confusing idea. Did this world of iron exist within his own mind? Or his soul? And if that was the case, then how had he ended up here? Trapped in his own head? What sense did that make?

Hmm. Well, if he was in a realm of his own making, then it would logically follow that he wasn’t actually trapped here. He just had to figure out how to free himself.

Unless... this wasn't a world of his own making at all.

Perhaps, instead, this place had always existed, and materialization merely allowed him to tap into it. To borrow its strength.

That... was more believable to him, somehow. Moreso than being trapped in a pocket dimension of his own unconscious creation, at least.

He wanted to reach out to Rasalased, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. Because there was no air, he remembered. Right. The sound of his voice had no medium through which to be carried.

It was weirdly easy to forget that.

He tried reaching out telepathically, instead. Still no luck, though.

Eh, maybe it was for the best. He had a feeling that Rasalased either wouldn't know much or would be his typically cryptic self. Though, in fairness, the Dry God did seem to be getting a bit better about that, recently.

Page 3220

He wasn’t just moving the iron around, either. He was breaking it away from the otherwise solid ground. Changing its shape. Its structure.

Could he still affect its temperature, too?

He gave the iron cube an emotional command, demanding it to become hot, and sure enough, it soon came alive with a fiery glow.

Wow.

Not only could he affect the temperature, he could do it in real time. He didn’t have to pick a new chunk of iron to “materialize,” first.

He continued messing around with the iron for a time, wanting to test various things.

This was just straight up manipulation, Hector decided after a while. Not iron materialization. Iron manipulation. He could move it all about as he pleased, change its shape or state of matter. He could even connect two separate chunks and have them blend seamlessly into one solid piece. That feat in particular was something that he’d only wished he could do with materialization.

He eventually started to wonder if there was anything he couldn’t do to it here.

This was utterly ridiculous to him. The kind of power that he could wield in this place... it boggled his mind, quite frankly. So many options. So much potential. Overwhelmingly so.

In a weird way, perhaps the limitations of the real world were kind of helpful. The restriction allowed him to problem solve more easily. With this, it was like... he didn't even know where to begin. 'Paralyzed with choice,' was what they called this type of thing, wasn't it?

Crazy.

The thought also crossed his mind that this might be some type of super emergence, but he just couldn’t convince himself of that. Emergence was only supposed to increase his volume limit and make difficult tasks easier. It wasn’t supposed to add completely new features like this. Plus, he hadn’t felt any kind of noticeable “response” from his iron like he usually did. And if this had been a “super” emergence, then surely the response should have been more pronounced than ever, no?

He stuck on those thoughts and questions for a while. Something in that line of reasoning was bothering him. Something that he felt like he was taking for granted.

The response. The emergent response.

He felt like he understood it, but... actually, that wasn’t true at all, was it?

What really was “the response” that he felt during emergence, anyway? It came from his iron? Did he know that for sure? How? And if so, why? Why did it come from his iron?

Page 3219

The cube had removed itself from the ground. It hadn’t materialized. It had already been there.

His brain needed time to process that. His materialized iron hadn’t materialized.

What in the world did that mean? If he wasn’t materializing, then what was he doing?

Wait, was this a dream? He did feel pretty numb, though that was probably because he was already dead.

And wait a second. He'd been horrifically wounded in that fight with Banda, hadn't he? Entire limbs missing, as he recalled. But he was looking at them now, and here they were, already having regenerated. When had that happened, exactly?

So many questions.

And before he got too much further into dwelling on them, he figured that he should probably try to contact Garovel again. He was fairly certain that he tried earlier when he was freaking out, but he decided to try again anyway, now that he was calmer.

'Garovel? You there?'

He waited. And kept waiting.

'Garovel?'

No response arrived.

That wasn't good. It wasn't entirely unprecedented for him, however. He'd bumbled his way into pocket dimensions before.

With surprising frequency, now that he was thinking about it.

There was the Shards, the Candle, and then whatever that weird dream state was where he'd been able to talk to Rasalased. Either way, he was pretty sure that he hadn't been able to talk to Garovel in any of those, either.

Though, maybe he just hadn't tried? He couldn't remember.

Whatever this place was, it was definitely different from those other ones. For one thing, he could actually see stuff. With his actual eyeballs. Which felt dry as hell and like they might have been slowly boiling out of his head, but for the moment, at least, they were still working. He was again thankful for his numbness.

Regardless, the rules here were clearly quite strange. Materialization was strange. So strange, in fact, that he felt like he couldn’t even call it materialization, anymore.

This felt more like telekinesis, Hector thought. Which was a peculiar thing to think, perhaps, because he wasn’t even sure that he understood how telekinesis even worked, really. He’d only glimpsed it in action because of the wrobels.

Hmm. If he had to articulate his thoughts more fully to himself, then telekinesis was simply the ability to make objects move with psychic force. Like levitating a book or turning its pages, as he’d seen Hanton do.

But as he kept thinking about it, Hector wondered if that was really what was going on here. It seemed more than a little weird that he would’ve suddenly developed psychic powers for no apparent reason.

Page 3218

He recalled being eaten. Devoured whole by the monstrous form of Banda Toro.

The sudden recollection hit him like a ton of bricks, and he became frantic. He had to get back. Warrenhold was unprotected. Banda was going to rip through it and kill everyone. He had to go back. Wherever the fuck this was didn't matter, right now. He just had to return.

It took him a while to settle down again. And when he finally did, it was mainly because he just didn't know what the hell to do.

No amount of freaking out about it was going to help his situation, it seemed. He was stuck.

He needed to think. Reassess.

So he'd been eaten. But this didn’t exactly look like the inside of a stomach, now did it? And why was there no air, either?

He stood up and looked across the landscape another time, inspecting it more carefully this time, searching for signs of something or someone or… anything at all. Anything for his eyes to latch onto.

But there really was nothing, he soon realized.

It was just flat ground out there, all the way to the horizon.

Well.

Flat iron.

The ground was iron.

Why was the ground iron? And why did it feel like materialized iron? Like his iron?

It was a supremely odd sensation. The familiarity was at once comforting and unsettling. There was SO much iron. Far more than his volume limit would ever allow him to materialize, surely. Even if he achieved emergence a dozen more times, he doubted he would ever be able to create this amount.

Did that mean he couldn’t materialize any more of it in this place? Because he was already capped out?

No harm in trying, he figured. Wasn't like he had any other leads to go on. He raised a hand and tried to summon a cube into it.

And for the second time, he was not prepared for what he saw. Not at all.

A cube did indeed appear, but not by materializing in his hand. Instead, a cube broke itself out of the flat ground in front of him and hovered over at a leisurely pace. As soon as his eyes locked onto it, though, it stopped dead in midair--or mid-space, rather.

It just floated there, suspended above the ground. Waiting.

On him?

For a while, Hector just kept staring at it, too confused to do or think anything else.

Page 3217 -- CCLXXIII.

Chapter Two Hudred Seventy-Three: 'When thy Domain holds true...'
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)

Hector hit the ground with a rolling thunk and then slid for a long while. He didn't have the presence of mind for much of anything. His thoughts were too clouded, too amorphous, like he was half-asleep and just on the verge of waking up.

Man, he was tired. A bed sure would've been nice, right about now. Yeah. A bed. Not whatever this was beneath him.

Whatever this was? Mm. Didn't feel like dirt. Not rock, either.

No, it felt metallic, actually. Hard and flat and instantly familiar. Extremely familiar, in fact.

Ugh.

He tried to find his hands and feet, and while he was reasonably sure that they were there, everything felt off. He reached out with the Scarf for some semblance of awareness, balance, or anything, really--but no. It told him nothing.

Which was beyond strange.

He couldn't breathe, either. His lungs were not pleased with him. Panicking within his chest, they were struggling to make the rest of his body do the same. If he wasn't undead, he surely would've been freaking out already. It didn't take long for those same lungs to settle down, though.

As he suffocated to death, that was.

Hmm. His thoughts could settle on the peculiarity of that, at least.

At length, his palms found the ground and pressed flatly thereupon as he prepared to push himself up. Yeah. That was definitely metal under him. Moreover, it wasn’t just any metal.

It was iron. Somehow, he could just tell. The feel of it. The presence of it. As if it belonged to him. But he didn’t remember materializing it.

He sat up into a cross-legged position and looked around. He was not prepared for what he saw.

A vast, barren landscape lay before him in all directions, flat and shiny as far as the eye could see, beneath a pitch black sky, save for one blazingly bright source. So bright, in fact, that it had to be the sun. But how could the sun be up while the rest of the sky was so dark? What’s more, the sun even appeared to be in the middle of setting, as well. How could it still be that bright when half or more of it was already below the horizon? He had to turn his back to it before his eyes could fully cease squinting.

Hector could see his skin cooking under its brutal rays, too. Good thing he was already dead and hadn't noticed that pain while he was suffocating. That was really going to sting later, though, no doubt.

He tried to focus, though it was difficult. What in the hell was going on, right now?

Page 3216

At length, Vanderberk seemed to be growing impatient. "Well? This silent treatment isn't my favorite thing in the world. Are you passing my message along or what?"

But even that, Raul did not wish to concede. In the quite likely event that this was all some kind of twisted bullshittery on Vanderberk's part, Raul didn't want to admit to anything. So instead, he decided to take a bit of initiative and ask, "Why do you want to negotiate? That's quite atypical for Abolish."

Vanderberk was sounding less jovial and more annoyed, however. "Are you asking just to stall for time, or is that an actual question on behalf of your elders?"

"Maybe a little of both?"

The man returned a flat look.

Perhaps now was not the time for cheek. Raul couldn't entirely help himself, though. Not when he was already pretty much screwed here. Might as well try and have some fun with it, he thought. "Look, dude, you're not exactly known for your sterling reputation. You really expect anyone to take you at your word when you say stuff like that?"

Vanderberk's gaze drifted over to a crowd of guardsmen who were beginning to gather, despite still looking quite confused. "So you're refusing to negotiate, then?"

"I didn't say that," said Raul. "But without some sort of logical explanation behind this sudden, uncharacteristic behavior from you, it'll be pretty difficult to negotiate in good faith, ya feel me?"

"Uncharacteristic?" said Vanderberk. "You don't know the first goddamn thing about me. All you know is what you've been told. You have no idea what's characteristic of me and what's not."

"I s'pose there's truth to that, but I've heard some pretty horrible things about you. You tryin' to tell me they're not true?"

At that, Vanderberk paused and looked over Raul's invisible form again, perhaps searching for his eyes. "Well. Who can say what's true, really? I mean, what even is truth, when you get down to it?"

Yeah, this guy was definitely full of shit.

Thankfully, Arumoro's silent instruction finally arrived. 'Ask him his terms.'

'There's no way we can trust anything this dude promises us.'

'We know. Just ask him. And try to be careful with your wording. You're speaking as the voice of all Rainlords, right now.'

Arumoro sure knew how to pile on the pressure. 'Okay...'

'If you're uncertain of anything, ask me first.'

'Right.' Somehow, Raul felt like he'd just been given the worst promotion in the world.

Page 3215

"That doesn't make much sense to me," Raul tried. "Guy like you? Don't you have more important things to do than worrying over a bunch of prisoners?"

Vanderberk's gaze turned away for a moment, looking all the way behind him at the cell block's exit before coming back to Raul. "Must be a real tough situation for you all, huh? Believe it or not, I actually sympathize. Getting betrayed by the Vanguard like that? Hehe. First time? That's always the roughest, isn't it?"

Raul didn't know what he was listening to, but it wasn't quite as horrible as he'd been expecting. Yet. And that was somehow more worrying, in its own way.

"You wouldn't happen to be an authority figure among your kin, would you?"

Raul made no response.

Vanderberk gave a nod as if the silence was answer enough. "I suppose if you were, you'd be putting up more of a fight already." He snapped his fingers again. "Maybe this is for the best. Do you think you could pass along a message for me?"

Oh god. Still, Raul was unsure and chose to say nothing.

"I'll take that as a yes. Tell whoever's in charge that I'd like to negotiate. That I'm open to a ceasefire. And maybe even the release of your prisoners, if you play your cards right. No fighting necessary. You go ahead and tell them that."

Raul couldn't believe what he was hearing. This guy, Vanderberk of Abolish, was infamously known for his cruelty, malice, and just generally for being the biggest asshole on the face of Eleg. Arguably, even Morgunov himself was not as widely reviled as this man right here.

And yet, he wanted to talk about a ceasefire? When he already seemed to have so much of an advantage with all these prisoners at his disposal?

It made no sense.

But then, it was also not Raul's role to dwell on or decide these things.

'Um, Arumoro?'

'Yes?'

'I'm speaking with Vanderberk, right now, and he's saying that he wants to negotiate for a peaceful resolution.'

'I'm sorry, what?'

He had to reiterate. Even after the second time, the reaper still didn't seem like he quite understood, and Raul didn't blame him.

'...Okay, just, uh, give me a minute,' said Arumoro. 'I have to bring this to the others.'

'Take your time,' said Raul, sighing quietly through his nose.

Page 3214

"Well, at least you're in good spirits about it," said Raul.

"What, you think I'd be some kind of sourpuss? Some kind of Negative Nancy? Never. Now why don't you go ahead and identify yourself for me, hmm? Undo your Invisibility and lemme get a good look at ya. Pretty please?"

Huh. So this guy couldn't actually see through the Invisibility? How had he been able to catch him, then? "I would, but you see, I'm terribly shy. And ugly, besides. I'd hate to scar you with the shocking ghastliness of my visage."

Vanderberk chuckled. "What if I promise not to make fun of you, no matter how hideous you are?"

"Ah. A kind offer, but I don't think so."

"Hehe. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I really must insist."

"And I'm afraid I must insist right back. Counter-insist, if you will."

"You're pretty funny for a Rainlord."

At that remark, Raul had no words. His mind froze up. So the bastard already knew.

"I didn't think you people had a sense of humor. Every time I've encountered one of you in the past, you always came across as such wet blankets. Which maybe was appropriate, given your namesake, eh?"

Still, Raul didn't know what to say. Did Vanderberk really know who they were? Or was he just guessing? Either way, Raul didn't want to confirm or deny anything.

"Why so quiet all of a sudden, friend? You were so chatty a moment ago. Could it be that you didn't realize how much I knew about you? Hope I didn't say anything too off-putting."

He had to respond, Raul knew. "...You sure sound confident about your information."

"I do, don't I? But then, I'm a confident guy. One of my better qualities, I'd say. Which is saying a lot, because I have many good ones."

Damn. Raul wanted to at least learn something useful from this situation, but Vanderberk wasn't giving much away. "What makes you think I'm a Rainlord?"

"Multiple things, not the least of which is the fact that my boys have been duking it out with you guys for weeks, now. You didn't think your skirmishes with Croll would go unreported, did you? You woulda needed to kill him during your first encounter for that to be the case. Oh, and there's also the small detail of a whole buncha Rainlords being held here as prisoners. Doesn't take a genius like me to connect those particular dots, though it does help."

So he already knew about the prisoners, too.

Fuck.

Page 3213

He scaled another wall up to row five, then six, had to pause in between some more befuddled guards, then kept pressing. Seven, eight.

And then he found himself stuck. Completely.

No matter how hard he flexed his muscles or tried to move, he couldn't. He just trembled ever so slightly in place.

"Tsk, tsk, so close." It was Vanderberk's voice, only a meter or so away by the sound of it. Raul couldn't even turn his head to be sure. Not that it would've mattered much, because a few moments later, Vanderberk melted into view right in front of him. "Neat little trick back there. Quite the annoying power you've got. Mind telling me your name?"

Even if he could have, Raul had no intention of answering that.

And at this point, he knew he should inform Arumoro that he'd been caught. Operationally speaking, it was the standard procedure.

But if he did that, he knew that his kin would come storming in here like a whirlwind, and utter chaos would ensure. He didn't know if they could take down Vanderberk. A part of him thought, yeah, maybe they could.

However, he wasn't worth taking that risk. He wasn't worth much of anything, really. Just a nameless fool who could barely ever do anything right.

Vanderberk blinked and snapped his fingers. "Ah, right, sorry. Here."

And Raul felt the pressure surrounding his jaw slacken. The rest of his body was still stuck fast, though.

He elected not to make use of his newfound freedom.

"Mm, the silent treatment, eh? That won't do. I like to play with my food, you know. I'm a bit famous for it, in fact. So come on. Play with me, and maybe you'll get to live a little longer. Not a bad trade, right?"

Well. Raul did like to talk. "Shouldn't you be over in Ridgemark or Czacoa, right now?"

The man smiled. "Oh? What makes you say that? Been listening to some misinformed little birdies, have we? Good to know my efforts weren't wasted, then."

Hmm. Maybe a bit of goading would prove useful here. "The Jailer of Ridgemark is going to tear your forces apart without you there to help them."

"Tsk. Y'know, I was kinda hoping he would be HERE, actually. Would only make sense, right? The Jailer? In a jail? Guess that would've been TOO fitting, huh? Hehe. Unless you're just trying to trick me, and he actually IS here. That'd be a real treat."

Page 3212

Raul didn't stop to take stock of the damage. Instead, he scrambled faster and then did something drastic in order to conceal his mistake.

He slapped his hand down on the floor and turned it into an almost frictionless plane. Everywhere within the bottom layer of the cell block--save right beneath himself--became more slippery than an ice rink.

Immediately, guards started toppling all around him, falling over themselves and each other, creating utter chaos out of an already hectic circumstance.

It definitely got the job done, though. Everyone was sufficiently distracted.

He took the opportunity find an isolated corner and, again using his ability, skitter straight up the wall.

This trick was always hell on his palms. The increased friction may have provided sticking power, but it did nothing to counterbalance the weight of his entire body yanking against his skin. Plus, he had to alternate the friction on and off quickly, else he'd either get stuck in place or start to fall.

Thankfully, he'd thought to wear gloves, which made the trick slightly more difficult but also painless. An entirely worthwhile trade off.

He scurried up on to the row of reaper cells and then perched there. The view was quite good of the mayhem he'd just created. It was like a scene out of a silent comedy, dozens of men bumbling into one another, struggling to find their footing and repeatedly being unable to.

The guards who were higher up in the block quickly took notice, but they didn't seem to know what was happening or what to do about it.

Raul couldn't help feeling quite pleased with his work, but he needed to keep moving while the distraction was still working. He saw a line up to the next row and decided to go for it.

'Status, Raul,' came Arumoro's voice.

'Still fine,' he said.

The reaper probably wanted to say more but didn't.

The distraction below was working wonders now. He considered doing it again on the second and third rows as he passed them, but his instinct was telling him that it would give his position away. He couldn't tell where Vanderberk was, but he had a feeling that the man had gone invisible again.

He reached the fourth row, and it seemed like his head was finally working right. He could see an exit. It wasn't far. He could reach it. And he was actually heading toward it, this time, instead of going in the wrong direction. That was certainly an improvement.

Page 3211

He stopped in front of the nearest cell. He craned his neck as a guard's hand hovered past his face. Raul could see some of the others resorting to using their powers, materializing clouds of smoke and dust. Fortunately, it seemed to be making matters worse for them, not better. All the extra crap in the air was conflicting with each other and confusing things further.

For now, at least.

Frankly, considering how many of them there were, the situation already seemed quite hopeless to Raul. He had a rather strong feeling that they were going to find him sooner or later. Probably sooner.

The reaper cells were an option. The only problem was how small they were. And how much attention it might draw if a cell door opened by itself.

But maybe he could use them to trick the guards. That was why he was already setting to work, loosening the hinges of this new cell door in front of him.

He didn't pull the bolts all the way free, though. He just wanted them primed for a sudden release. First, he stepped carefully away from the door and went to work on the next one over, still needing to dodge grasping hands.

Soon enough, the second door was primed, too, and he moved onto the third.

He had no idea how many he should go for. Planning at this stage wasn't really an option for him. He was just going. When the time felt right, he'd make all the bolts fall out at once.

He heard a commotion on the other side of the block, but the dust and clouds were so thick over there that they he couldn't tell what was going on. From the sound of the yelling, it seemed like a fight might've broken out.

For a moment, he thought it might've been his kin. But no, the dust soon dissipated, he saw instead that it was just a couple of arguing guards.

More dust arrived, this time right on top of him.

Not good. It was still pretty disorienting with so many others around, but still. They might actually be able to see him now.

He went prone. Flat on his belly, he resorted to crawling. Most of the guards were looking around at eye level or even above the cells, perhaps thinking he might be perched on top of one.

This position wasn't bad but still far from ideal. Spidering his way across the stony floor didn't make it any easier to avoid bumping into these damn guards. So many moving legs. It was just matter of time until--

He bumpbed into someone.

"Hey, what was that?!"

Page 3210

It took Raul a bit longer of wide-eyed gawking to come to his senses. 'Vanderberk is in the prison,' he told his reaper, trying not to sound like he was shitting his pants. 'I have eyes on him, right now.'

'Get the hell out of there,' came Arumoro's response.

Raul couldn't think of a proper reply. He couldn't even will his legs to move. Hell, it was hard to even form a complete thought in his head. He just stood there with the fourth bolt in his invisible hand, listening like everyone else.

"Now that I have your attention," Vanderberk went on, "I'd like you all to spread out and search the room very carefully for me. I believe there is a little rat scurrying around here. Invisible to the naked eye, like I was just now."

Oh no.

"The first one to find this rat for me will be rewarded. Generously."

'--listening to me?!' Arumoro was saying. 'Raul! Answer me! Are you still--?!'

'I'm okay,' he managed to say. He was still holding the bolt in his hand. Thankfully, it was also made invisible while in his grip. He decided to just pocket it. 'But he knows I'm here. He's having all the guards start searching for an invisible intruder.'

'Get out!'

'Not that simple. They're everywhere.' Quite literally, there was a man standing right behind him.

'Everyone is converging on your location. Cell Block Y, right?'

'No!' said Raul. His feet were finally moving again, though he wasn't sure where they were carrying him other than away from Vanderberk. 'That'll turn into a fight, and it's still too soon!'

'Just try to stay hidden until the others get there.'

He grit his teeth. He couldn't let Arumoro ignore him. 'Tell everyone to wait! I'm fine for now! I'll let you know if and when I need help!'

'Raul, don't be--'

'Everyone is riding on this! Don't screw it up just because you're worried about me! We both know I'm not that important! And stop distracting me, too! I have to focus!'

And thankfully, the reaper said nothing more. Raul had no idea if he would actually listen to him about the backup, though.

For some godforsaken reason, he found himself heading down the nearest staircase instead of up it, where the exit was. He was going to row one.

He didn't know why. He was just moving. Barely thinking. Which probably wasn't a good thing, but it was helping him stay calm, at least. Kind of.

He could see all the guards searching around now. Spreading out. Feeling around at the empty air. Hoping to just randomly bump into him, he supposed.

Page 3209

Raul looked around again. This timing sure was convenient. Could the other Invisibility user be an ally?

Not likely, he decided. Even if it was, how could they have known to cause a distraction at just this moment?

He decided not to waste it, regardless. The cell right in front of him was the quickest and easiest candidate, so he went for it. There were four enormous hinges that he had to take are of. He gripped the topmost one with two fingers and concentrated. Just as he'd hoped, the bolt slid free with barely any effort, then he moved onto the second.

"This isn't funny! Reveal yourself! Whoever you are, touch me again, and I'll kill you!"

Man, that guy sure was sensitive about being touched. Raul did his best to stay on task, though. The third hinge came free.

"It was me."

The new voice made Raul hesitate, because this time, it wasn't just a voice. It was a feeling, too.

A sudden, overwhelmingly oppressive presence.

And he turned in time to see a man melt into existence out of thin air. He wore sunglasses, flip fops, shorts, and a tropical shirt with barely any sleeves to cover his toned, tanned arms.

Everyone else was staring at him, too.

"Well?" the man said, taking a step toward the guy who'd been yelling a moment ago. He poked him in the shoulder with one finger. "You said you'd kill me, didn't you? Sounds like fun. Why don't you go ahead and try?"

From this angle, Raul could only see the profile of the newcomer's face, but combined with that notorious attire, this sinking feeling in his gut, and the images he'd seen of Abolish's top threats, it was enough. Raul knew exactly who that was over there.

That was Vanderberk. One of the most powerful and dangerous servants in the entire world.

Instantly, this situation was changed. The Rainlords had of course already known that Vanderberk was in Vantalay, but he wasn't supposed to be here, at Logden. According to their most recent intel, he was supposed to be on the eastern front, pressing the assault on Czacoa. Raul had heard that information only a day ago.

All of Cell Block Y had fallen dead silent. These guardsmen seemed to know who they were looking at, too.

The guy who'd just been yelling didn't say another word, choosing instead to shrink away from Vanderberk.

Vanderberk smiled. "Heh. Smart man."

Yo

The next page will go up at noon PST tomorrow. I just want some more time with it, is all. Oh, and I'll probably delete this post once the page goes up, so if you decide to leave a comment here, don't get too attached to it.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

EDIT: I've changed my mind. I'm not deleting this post. Now all your meta jokes in the comments are going to look foolish. Ha. Still pretty funny, though. Good job.