Distantly, Alex knew this couldn't be real. He walked as though in a dream, or perhaps a memory. Through an Earth wasted by war and bloodshed, a planet that no longer looked worth fighting for. Corpses littered his path: The enemy's. His own. Years of wear in his gait, death in his eyes, and emptiness in his soul, he ambled, muttering to himself old names.

Alyssa. Nolan. Julia. Yara. Aashay. Kirin.

"...Laura."

He turned, hearing a dry croak in response to his voice. He was no Priestess of the Seven but he gave what mercy he could, and didn't bother reclaiming his sword from the body. He simply wandered on without purpose or sense of time. Until he found her. A dragon on death's door—Lys.

Her eyes were the colors of an aurora reflected in cloudy ice. He looked into hers, she looked into his, and they knew they were the same. Sadly, he was not equipped to give her mercy, but that wasn't what she asked for. She wanted to fly, so Alex told her a story.

At first it was just words, ramblings, an insipid tale. He'd tried to accommodate her wish but she didn't like his ending and when he was done she asked: What happens next? So instead, he told her a fairytale. Words that didn't mean anything. Things that would never happen. Characters that weren't real. He wove, and soon, the fates stirred at his narrative. The Constellations hung on his every word. And for those few defining seconds where their fairytale reached its end, he understood everything.

Then he blinked and that understanding was gone. She was gone. He was back in a field of endless corpses, but it was dark now. Night. His surroundings had changed. Those corpses leaked, blood seeping in an ocean, pooling up to his shins. They stirred, rising as skeletal undead, gathering, and forming a throne from their collective bones. Chains rattled to a woman's distant cackle. Above was a murky abyss and eyes peered back from the dark—millions.

Panic gripped Alex. He waded through the endless blood searching desperately. He eventually found armor forged from beautiful Oslumnem—Nychta, but when he reached out, she shattered from his touch. Lost Souls whispered in his ear. Fear. Rage. Sorrow. He opened his mouth yet couldn't scream, and just when it became too much, she visited.

A cold breeze touched his soul and Laura descended.

No… it was just a wraith wearing Laura's face. Nychta was in his hands again, but her voice was muted, drowned out by the Lost Souls and the boil of his blood.

He stood frozen as Laura drifted closer, caressing his cheek. Her smile was like the sun, too bright to look at. Her fingers were as cold as he remembered. It wasn't real. It needed to be cleansed. He raised his blade, gripping Nychta tighter as Laura's lips moved—

Then for the barest moment, he listened.

"Alex," She said. "You know when something is wron—"

Suddenly, everything froze. A deep, rhythmic thud emanated throughout his entire world. It was an ominous, pounding sound, like a persistent terror hounding on his—

Alex awoke startled, staring at the ceiling from his bed. Someone pounded on his apartment door.

"Alex! Wake up!" Jordan called. "Damn your beauty sleep! I've got a job for ya!"

* * *

Integration 2nd Year New York, Earth 13 Years, 7 Months Before System Reset

"A job?" Alex asked groggily. He looked past the man standing in his doorway, at the starry night above. "Jesus, Jordan, what time is it?"

"Aww… don't be like that, Alex. Thirty minutes ago, I had someone pounding on my door too. Though, sorry pal. You're lookin' like you may have needed that sleep more than I did."

Alex shook his head. He'd just been woken from a very… strange dream—different from the usual nightmares the evil spirits showed him—and although he couldn't remember a damn thing about it, he reckoned more sleep wasn't what he needed. "Don't worry about it," He said, sighing. "If you're knocking on my door this early, I'm guessing something's gone terribly wrong?"

"For somebody," Jordan said. "For you, this just means we're back in business."

Alex clicked his tongue, ruffling his hair in annoyance. Go figure. No other reason anyone would have to hire someone like him. He opened his door a little wider. "Place is a shithole as usual, but make yourself at home. I'll go pack and tell my landlord not to pull the plug on utilities. Any idea how long I'll be setting off for?"

Jordan strode in, turning on the heater. "Nope."

Alex frowned. Then he looked at the contract the man sent, his frown deepening. He suddenly, very much, didn't want to take this job. Unfortunately, he'd already sent the message to his landlord, and he didn't want to send a follow up immediately after.

"It's… sparse on details, I know," Jordan continued. "I… tried, but they went dark, so it was hard to figure out more. Based on vibe? I'd plan for the worst."

"Great," Alex muttered. "Guess I'll be out all morning resupplying. About that…"

Jordan waved. "I gotcha covered. Your stipend's sent and in processing. You can send a little bit of that to your landlord, too. I won't bring it up to the administration."

The amount appeared on Alex's interface. He grunted, rummaging through his empty fridge. "That's a silver lining, I guess. Would you like cold brew or orange juice?"

"Oh… cold brew."

Just this once, Alex echoed the sentiment.

The early hours passed, with Alex hustling across the city, hitting up all his usual suppliers. At least, the ones that would open their doors to him. It was almost dawn now. Brooklyn was still cast in shadows, but the sun threatened to spill across the mountain peaks like a broken egg yolk, so he quickened his pace. He saw the party waiting for him beneath the overhang of a dockyard warehouse, and when he reached them, he offered his hand in greeting.

"Alex," he said.

Eric "Featherfoot" looked him over with a nonjudgmental gaze. Due to his reputation as a party leader and his high status in the rankings, Alex had mistakenly assumed he was the employer. But it appeared he'd guessed wrong.

"Well, Priestess?" Eric asked.

Alex's tired eyes moved to the hooded figure on his left as she stepped forward. She was a priestess, apparently—made obvious by the deified artifacts decorating her bangs and the…

Alex's gaze drifted to the emblem embroidered on her garb, then back up. He met her eyes, and suddenly that weird feeling he'd had when he'd awoke from his dream returned. He… knew this woman. He didn't know how, why, or where from, but he did—and more than that, he missed her. He wanted to…

He frowned, forcing the thought away. No, he'd never seen her before. And that was the emblem of the Seven Sisters Priesthood. A cultist. He glowered. There was no reason he'd ever be so enamored with one of the Seven's dogs.

The woman in question simply smiled at him, her eyes mirroring none of his discontent.

"Yes, he'll do nicely," she said.

Alex raised his brow at that. He wasn't sure what he'd just been tested on, but apparently, he'd passed. He scowled. "Can anyone tell me what business we have involving a Priestess of the Seven Sisters?"

No one answered his question, but at the priestess's approval, Eric finally stepped up to shake his hand. God knows how long that had been hanging there.

"Alex, I'm Eric, nice to meet 'ya. There's a lot to explain, but we don't have much time for explanations, I'm afraid. I believe Jordan had you look at the contract we drafted. Was everything alright?"

"It was generous—"

Alex's sentence was cut short by the clipped horn of a boat. A man on deck waved frantically to Eric, who smiled back and raised his index finger in the universal gesture of "one sec."

"Good, good—then if there's nothing else, we'll introduce ourselves properly when we've set sail."

* * *

The Atlantic was calm that Sunday—at least, as calm as oceans went—and the fishing vessel Alex had been ushered onto quickly reached Treasure Isles, the mountainous stretch of islands off New York's coast whose dungeons were a pillar of its economy. Regrettably, it then sailed past the isles, past the reefs, past the point where New York was anything more than a blip on the horizon, and into the middle of Atlantic-nowhere—where it promptly abandoned them. Calm waters didn't make boarding an invisible offshore submarine any easier, as Alex had the misfortune of learning.

Now, he sat at a table in the submarine's main cabin, shivering as Eric handed out towels. He snatched his and wrapped it around his shoulders, the ocean's relative calmness having no bearing on his mood.

"...You'll see, you've made an excellent choice in choosing us for your passage," the captain had been saying. "Don't you worry. We'll be swift and untraceable."

He flourished a bow, as though expecting them to clap him on the shoulder for a smuggling well-done. Jesus… just what have you gotten me into Jordan?

"T-Thank you, Donovan," Eric said. "We'd b-best be with it, then."

"Naturally. For an esteemed client like yourself— why, I'll go all out. Time is no relic!"

Alex glared at this party he was supposedly a part of. Clearly, this wasn't the short excursion he'd hoped for. The contract was obnoxiously vague on that front, and there hadn't been time for questions.

He turned his glare on the priestess. He still felt like he was forgetting something important, but he brushed the feeling aside. He'd never associated himself with any of the Seven Sisters zealots. And he'd have preferred to keep it that way, but she was his client, and she owed him some goddamn answers now that they were away from prying ears.

She caught his look. Instead of answers, Alex was handed a banana leaf-wrapped tamale.

"I know it's been an early morning for all of you, so I thought it might be considerate to prepare breakfast," she said.

He looked down at the tamale, then back up. "What—"

And just like that, the table erupted. Eric's eyes gleamed and he quickly unwrapped his tamale, huffing his thanks through steaming bites. "Oh, Laura! You're a lifesaver!"

Before Alex could even get another word in, the ranger woman, Alice, squealed and squeezed her arms around her. "Gosh, Laura. I've been dying to taste your cooking again! I'm sorry we haven't talked yet, but there's so much to catch up on!"

Yeah, perhaps… but Alex hoped he might get caught up on a thing or two first.

"Don't apologize, Alice! You're being silly. I'm the one who's been nothing but business all morning. Though… maybe I can unwind a little now that the coast is clear."

Those words concerned Alex. 'Coast is clear'— what the hell was that supposed to mean? And clearly, there was still some business to address? What was he, invisible?

He opened his mouth. "Uh—"

"Mmh… thanks," Jory interrupted. "These… are good."

The other party member, Dalton, brought out various utensils from his inventory and began methodically devouring his own tamales. As soon as Laura had handed them out, it was like everyone else had forgotten how they were cold, miserable, and trapped in a steel vessel hundreds of meters beneath sea level, heading to god-knew-fucking-where.

And yet, for some reason Alex couldn't quite place, their behavior felt natural. As though he couldn't imagine how these clear delinquents could act in any more respectable a manner and still be the people he'd come to know.

But what the hell was that supposed to mean? I met them thirty minutes ago!

He tapped his foot impatiently. Laura must have taken notice because she flashed him a smile that looked engineered for the part of a kindly Sister of the Seven. "Have some more, Alex. It's hard to think on an empty stomach."

"Right… Thank you. I'll be sure to enjoy it later."

The tamale's warm scent wafted up temptingly and he hadn't had breakfast. However, he chose to abstain and transferred it to his inventory alongside the first one. It was a clear social cue. But Laura didn't take offense.

Alice grabbed her attention, and soon the room was filled with noise. Dalton and Eric had gotten into an argument over which was better—pork or chicken—and Jory asked for a third tamale but received two more from Laura. The smell was comforting in the way only home cooking could be, and it drove Alex mad. What was wrong with these people? He was being carted further away from home by the minute, and he'd been owed a proper explanation the second he stepped onto that fishing vessel. How unprofessional was it that he had to broach the subject first?

But then he calmed his knee's jitter and thought critically. Considering the circumstances, they were acting too relaxed, and these weren't your average greenhorn adventurers. There must be a reason for it. Cautiously, he produced a pen and piece of paper from his inventory and wrote out a message:

Are we being bugged?

"No?" Eric said. He looked at him oddly. "Oh, right! Alex, we haven't had a chance to properly introduce each other! Let's go around the circle with our favorite foods—"

Alex ripped the message apart, his left eye twitching. "Then in that case, please remember that I haven't actually signed this contract you've given me yet!"

Finally, Alex had their attention. They all stared blankly at him, food halfway to their lips. Then, slowly, they turned their heads toward Eric, who made an ah sound as though he'd just remembered something important.

"Eric!" Alice chastised. "How many times did I tell you to confirm before we set off?"

"Alice, please, this isn't Eric's fault," Laura said. "I was hesitant to disrupt your party's hierarchy, but I am responsible for this quest. I… shouldn't have trusted him with this in the first place."

"But Laura, if we coddle him—"

Laura's look brooked no argument, which only lent Alice's more vehemence as she stared back at Eric, who in turn, studied the polished floor.

"Alex, it looks like we've effectively kidnapped you. I'm truly sorry for this," Laura said.

Her sad smile, the slight tilt to her head—if "apologetic" were a painting, Alex was looking at it now. The way she slid her hand across the table to touch his—soft and warm despite the cold…

Alex jerked his hand back. No… she made it all seem genuine, but there was a certain poise to her actions, a perfectness too pristine to be natural. He decided he didn't like this woman—this worshiper of the Seven Sisters.

"I don't buy it," he spat. "Clearly, you're in desperate need of my services. It's too convenient. We're halfway beneath the Atlantic, and I don't even know what for."

Laura gaped in shock, then even she turned on Eric. "You… didn't even outline the job description?"

Eric blanched.

"Gosh! I'm really, really sorry, Alex," She pleaded, "We can't turn back now. We're involved in something big and I'm afraid the harbor—maybe even the entire East Coast—will have entered lockdown. If we're caught trying to return in a vessel of this nature…"

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. He truly hated this way of doing things. She was laying the act on thick, and the worst part was that she was the best damn actor he'd ever seen. Her doe eyes and insistent apologies almost had him believing she actually meant it. That kind of tactic had its drawbacks, of course. He knew this song and dance—raise a fuss, and he'd leverage greater compensation. But the Seven Sisters had deep, dirty pockets. It wouldn't mean a thing to them. Laura had him right where she wanted.

"Well, that's just great!" he fumed. "You've kidnapped me, and now I don't even have the choice to opt out?!"

Admittedly, none of this would've changed his Sunday plans, but he didn't have to pretend to be upset about the lack of communication.

"I hope you know the only reason I've come this far is because of your reputation for honorable practices, Eric. But from what little I have gathered, it's clear this assignment carries more risk than I was led to believe. I'll reserve my judgment until I have the full picture, but you've put me between a rock and a hard place. Since there was an issue with the original contract, it only makes sense that it would need to be redrafted—if I still choose to accept it!"

"Alex, I-I really don't know what to say," Eric said. "I still don't know what went wrong, but I think I must have sent you a different copy from the one I—"

Alice clapped her hand over her party leader's mouth. Alex felt a pang of guilt for using Eric as his scapegoat. He got the sense he wasn't in on this little act. Then again, he'd never have lasted a year in sales if guilt had ever stopped him—much less clawed his way to account executive at so young an age. Maybe if he'd felt even less guilt, he'd have still been there, instead of rotting at some call center.

"Thank you for shushing him, Alice," Laura said. Concern flashed across her expression for a second. "Eric, I really don't want to hear you apologizing for this, because it truly is my fault. I placed so much burden on you when this was already a last-minute request…"

She shook her head in shame. "Please don't be too mad at him, Alex. I'll compensate you for my mistakes. And I'm sorry again if this was a violation of your privacy, but when I was looking into your background, I couldn't help but notice that you're struggling to pay rent for your studio. You don't have to answer, but… is this because of your ill reputation?"

"If you're insinuating that I had no other choice than to accept your quest, you're underestimating me," he said coolly. "Losing my residence is one thing. Losing my head is another. If the terms of your offer aren't satisfactory, I'll gladly have you drop me off anywhere along the Caribbean and report all of you for malpractice to the administration."

Laura flinched, but the timing felt odd—like they weren't on the same wavelength. Had he made a mistake in negotiations?

"Oh… I did not realize how that sounded," she said. "Alex, I wasn't trying to suggest something like that. I just thought it was something I could help you with, really. This quest is near and dear to my heart. You'd be doing me a favor helping with it after all my failings. It's… only natural I'd want to clear your name in return. I-I know how that sounded."

Her face flushed the color of a persimmon. She hid behind her hands, murmuring self-admonishments. Is it… not an act? Is she really this flustered over it?

Alex began to soften. Then tensed. He didn't know this woman. And something told him he should keep his distance. Because if he didn't… if he let her get to him—

If I let her get to me, what?

That strange feeling washed over him again, as though he was missing something important. Was she using some sort of mental magic on him? To make negotiations run smoother? If she was, she was doing a lousy job of it—and his trait gave him no warnings. Only the odd feeling that something had unraveled.

Then he was shaken from his thoughts as Laura slapped her cheeks, pulled her hair back and regained her composure. The sincerity in her expression… She had to be one of the best goddamn actors he'd ever seen. To the point that it was hard to even stay mad about it. Begrudgingly, he admitted—making him hirable again would do him a greater service than any kind payment.

All told, it was a generous offer. So why couldn't he shake the feeling that he was putting one foot in the grave? Alex's blood began to heat, just a little, but he remained calm. Laura took his silence for acceptance. And just like that, the negotiation phase ended.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," she said. "I'll answer them all in time. But first, let me give you a rundown of what this quest entails."

* * *

Alex listened to Laura's explanation, but that strange feeling only intensified. His eyes stung, and when he opened them again, his vision was tainted red. The Blood Mists drenched the air with a thick iron odor. It clung to the roof of his mouth like oil, then—

"Alex! Hey, Alex, you okay?"

Alex clutched his head, shoving off Eric's support. "Yes, I'm fine."

He glared at Laura where she sat across from him, suddenly unable to recall the last several seconds. Vampires. Their quest involved vampires. And as soon as she explained that, he understood why she had gone to such great lengths to secure his services. Nobody sane willingly signed on against them.

Apparently, there was going to be a System Event on an island deep in the Atlantic, but more importantly, rumors were circulating that a powerful clan of vampires—the Blood Lotus Clan—had made camp there. A rumor that the Vampire Hunters had caught wind of. Other factions had taken interest in the event itself, but Laura's task from the Seven Sisters was simple: observe the conflict between the two groups and report back the results. Primarily, this was an escort mission. If it went well, they wouldn't have to fight at all.

"What we'll need from you," Laura explained, "Is maintenance on our gear and weapons, as well as the creation of new specialized equipment if the need arises. Normally, I would not drag a blacksmith into such a hostile environment, but you've marketed yourself as adaptable. And one thing you are not rumored to be is weak, Alex."

Alex stood there quietly, absorbing her words.

Laura continued, "Unfortunately, one of Eric's party members is still in recovery, so we'll need your combat capabilities. Jory will take over backline defense, and you'll be taking his role as a frontline warrior. Occasionally, you'll also serve as a secondary scout to Alice. Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah, a few. Materials—"

"Material costs will be covered, as long as you track your usage. The Seven Sisters have also seen fit to provide you with a wide range of cores and ingredients. Maintenance aside, new creations will warrant additional pay bonuses at or beyond industry standard, depending on the request."

Alex fired off a few more concerns, but his mind was elsewhere. He felt as though he could taste that eerie sea of red. It was devastatingly familiar.

"...and I can understand if you're hesitant due to his disposition, but the service Donovan provides is—"

His headache pulsed, Laura's voice falling away. Somehow, he'd felt like he'd heard all of this before. His skull throbbed harder with each beat of his heart, and he found it hard to look at her. His vision blurred—red crept in at the edges.

"That's enough," he told her. "Just show me the contract."

"Yes… this is our revised offer."

Laura swiped her hand, sending a new contract to Alex's display.

His eyes bulged and he found himself yanked back into the moment.

"This…" he gulped. "Isn't enough."

He'd attempted to say it smoothly.

Laura pursed her lip. "You're right. Maybe it's not enough. I… also missed something crucial in my rush to fix it up. You'll be privy to a lot of sensitive information during this quest. I hate to force this on you, but would you be willing to sign an oath to secrecy?"

Her request raised Alex's hackles. "If you have concerns that I'm a security risk, I could swear on my soul right now that I'm not."

"I'm… sorry, Alex. But swearing on your soul is not the same as forming a binding vow."

Yeah… he'd known that wouldn't fly. Swearing on your soul was momentary, and non-binding. It still required that you speak true from the heart, but what's true in the moment isn't promised to stay true forever.

He looked around as Laura tapped away on her interface, revising the contract once more. The other party member's reactions told him he was the only one subject to this clause, and he knew exactly why. How hypocritical.

"This is a tall ask for the same payment offer," he scowled.

Laura tilted her head. "It's… not the same, though?"

Confused, Alex looked again. She was right, it wasn't the same. A god-damn decimal had been moved over. It still didn't sit right with him. It didn't, but…

"Fine," he spat. "I'll take your hush money. But such a large amount is enough to make me nervous. I want assurances it won't just find itself back in your coffers if I disappear."

A flash of concern crossed Eric's face at the implication. He opened his mouth to speak—but was shushed. Again.

Laura looked taken aback too. "It's not hush money. It's only what your services are worth. And an apology for getting off on the wrong foot. Do you have any loved ones you want to include?"

"I…"

Alex trailed off. His sister came to mind, as she did in moments like this. But something was wrong. The wound felt… old.

"No. If I die, just send it to this account," he said.

Then he bit his lip, bracing himself as he signed the contract. Immediately, a burning sensation tore through him, and he doubled over, spasming in pain. The oath etched its tapestry onto his soul, cementing there like a heavy rock lodged in his throat. Even though the wound was only spiritual, Alex still lurched forward, slamming his hands down on the table to support himself.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Across the table, Laura staggered, bound by a similar pain. Alex was gripped by inexplicable worry—until he saw her eyes. She was still looking at him with that expression of mock concern, pitying him.

Her. Of all people.

As soon as Alex could form words, he let his anger fuel them. "I'll do my job, but don't forget who started all this, Laura. I receive my boons from Orion, and I shut up about them. I don't spread his faith or whatever because I know the Constellations don't give a damn what happens to Earth. And don't act like you're any different! You don't see me dick-sucking the Constellations with every… fucking… breath."

He slumped back in his chair, heaving. His vision grew hazy, and through his left eye—where his scar ran—it was hard to see anything at all. They were all just blurry shapes. Except for one person.

Laura.

She still towered across the table, meeting Alex's gaze. In that second, no one else in the room mattered. Her voice was strained. His ears rang and he couldn't be certain whether she was still bothering with the kindly Sister act or not. She only said, "It'll be a pleasure working with you, Alex", and promptly left the room.

Then all eyes turned to him.

Alice seethed. "How dare you! Laura's not—"

"Alice." Jory's deep voice boomed. He shook his head at the woman, signaling her to drop it.

She glowered but sat back down. Dalton, for his part, looked uninterested in the exchange, while Eric seemed deeply abashed by how the negotiations had gone. He was the one who broke the silence.

"I'm not going to lecture anyone on their worldviews. Alex, I heard you're a survivor from Nightmare. Is that right?"

Alex jolted. A glance around showed he wasn't the only one caught off guard. Everyone but Eric had taken return stones, but they'd all experienced it. There was something new in the way they looked at him—something hard to label. Companionship, perhaps. Understanding. It wouldn't have sat well with Alex if anyone else had asked.

"May I know what section?" Eric pressed.

"Misting Valleys."

Eric let out a shaky breath. "Then I'm definitely not going to question your stance on Mage organizations. That's your own deal, Alex. And… Now that I'm thinking about it, I remember rumors about a… blacksmith…"

Alex shot him a piercing look. Eric shook his head. "No… never mind. Whatever your feelings toward Laura are, all I need is assurance that it won't hinder our teamwork in battle."

"It won't."

A heavy silence hung between them. Then Eric suddenly stood and clapped his hands, all smiles, "Great! Then with that out of the way, let's do proper introductio—"

"But what might," Alex interrupted, "Is whatever she's hiding from us. She wasn't just sent to observe the conflict. There's something she isn't saying."

"Oh. That… might be true. It's a delicate situation, from what I can understand, so it wouldn't surprise me if she has another objective."

"And this doesn't concern you because?"

Eric scratched his head. "Well… I trust her, Alex. We go back a little, and she gave me her assurance that she won't place us in needless harm." He flicked his nose, a sheepish smile playing on his face. "For the record, I think I trust you too, Alex. It's the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. You went too far, but I gotta respect it."

That earned him more of Alice's vehemence. Alex only frowned. Eric trusted him? Now what reason had he given for that? And why did he get the sense he'd heard this before…

No, he'd only just met the man. The fact that Eric already trusted him was proof enough that his trust didn't mean anything.

"Laura's word might be enough for you. But it isn't for me," Alex said.

Eric nodded, seemingly understanding. Then he clapped his hands again, all smiles. "Well, trust comes over time, so how about we make proper introductions now. We'll go in a circle with our pronouns, favorite foods, dreams and aspiratio—"

Alex pushed out his chair. "Forward me your party's status pages and strategies. I'll review them in my own time."

"Oh… okay…"

Alex shivered as he shrugged off his towel. He walked into the submarine's hallway and let the door shut behind him, ignoring the disappointment in Eric's voice. He was dizzy and the world around him warped. He leaned against the wall for support, his mind spiraling.

The evil spirits that usually haunted him were eerily quiet, but something was still off. He'd been feeling strange ever since he'd woken from that dream earlier this morning. It was as though he'd forgotten something important. Fragmented pieces returned to him here and there, only to slip right out his grasp. The Blood Mists…

The Blood Mists!

Alex's breath caught as the name finally registered. They called him the Bloodmist Assassin. No one knew his real name. No one had ever seen his face. But it was said that by the time the Blood Mists rolled in, you could already count yourself among the dead. Even in the Misting Valleys, Alex had heard tales—rumors that the assassin had dispatched many powerful targets. He was the Red Mistress Anne's favorite tool. And one thing was certain: if you crossed her, you'd find yourself in the Blood Mists before long.

He sighed, pushing off the wall, heading toward the bunks. A lightheadedness settled over him. If his time in Nightmare had taught him anything, it was to treat vampires with proper fear. This job was already high-risk, with many influential factions involved. If Laura was hiding another variable in their little quest, that was something he needed to know about.

He opened the bunk door. One way or another, he would find… out…

Alex's mind sputtered to a stop, malfunctioning at what he saw. Laura's thighs were meaty, more muscular than he'd expected. Her hips were full, her waist slender. The shape of her breasts…

"Alex? You do know Priestesses of the Seven take a vow of celibacy, right?"

Oh… shit. Shit!

Alex flushed. It took until he saw her scar to realize what he was doing. His thoughts scattered, and his mind slowed to a stutter. He… I—

"Alex?"

He grasped for a response. His face became a hot-stone, and his eyes were doing that thing where you get so embarrassed you start crying even though you're not sad. He screwed them shut. His movements were rigid as he forced himself to turn around—

And promptly bonked his head against the door in shame.

"Sorry. I… thought we'd be separated by gender."

Laura laughed. "And I thought introductions would last long enough to give me time to change. Are Eric and the others not to your liking?"

Alex had a hard time grasping her words. There was no mirth in her voice, only good-natured humor. She couldn't be real. Alex had just insulted her religion and then spied on her naked. There was no way she—

Wait, 'Spied'? It wasn't as though she'd locked the door. But no, that was just victim-blaming.

Wait, "victim"? But it wasn't like he'd intended to look at her. Hell, why was he even so flustered. He wasn't some premature, hormonal young man—he was twenty-three! He didn't even like her.

"Alex… you can relax, I'm really not that mad that you—"

"How'd you get that scar?" he smoothly deflected.

He cursed himself a moment later. Scars were a sensitive thing, perhaps more of an invasion of privacy than anything else he'd seen. But to his surprise, Laura answered.

"When I was still in training, some senior Sisters and I were dispatched to investigate strange happenings in a village in Panama," she said. Her clothes rustled and Alex listened intently to her words. "Someone had disturbed a spiritual resting site in the nearby woods and unleashed a powerful specter. My senior Sisters did their best to contain it… but it was too hateful. It slipped past their defenses and flew to the village. I got this scar shielding a young child. It's not something I'm unproud of, Alex.

"And you… how did you get yours?"

Alex had heard her steps as she approached, but he still flinched when her fingers brushed the nape of his neck—a wound there that potions couldn't erase.

Abandoning them.

"It doesn't matter," he said instead.

Her smile was strained when he turned around. Her hand fell away. Thankfully, she was fully clothed this time.

"Star Wars?" he asked.

She looked down at her shirt, then tilted her head, "It's not like I go around wearing my habit all day. Even priestesses like Star Wars."

Han Solo, Alex noted. Posing with his finger on the trigger and everything—safety off.

He startled when he realized he'd been staring… and also blocking her exit. Belatedly, he stepped aside, answering her first question. "Eric and the others seem like good people. I've just been up all morning preparing, so I wanted to get some rest."

"We're going to be on this submarine for a while. It wouldn't hurt to let yourself relax a little," she said.

Alex thought about it and watched her go by, his eyes lingering a little too long. He only became aware of it when she suddenly stopped and faced him again.

"Oh, and Alex?"

"Uh… yes?"

Laura pressed her finger to her lip. "Someday, the spirits that linger in your soul will need putting to rest. I hope you know that."

With those final words, she left, leaving Alex gripped by coldness. She could sense them. The Lost Souls.

He frowned. Lost Souls? As in from the Misting Valleys?

No, that couldn't be right. Alex had his troubles with spirits, sure, but those ones were far behind him. He'd been out of Nightmare for nearly a year and hadn't heard a lick about them since. Not a single whisper. Really, why was he letting Laura get to him? She was a Mage—a priestess loyal to the same magicking world that had caused all this. He didn't care about her or what she said.

So why did watching her go feel so…

Nervous, Alex scratched the scar on his eye. But if she'd been trying to get him off his guard, he would've felt ill intent, so he just ignored it and closed the door. With Laura gone from his mind, he took in the room. There were six bunk beds, three against each wall. But no bed was created equal.

A sword could just as easily stab up through a mattress as pierce down from above, so from that perspective, it didn't matter which he claimed—so long as he didn't choose a middle bunk. But the other party members weren't his main concern. He was more wary of the submarine's crew, since there were numerous he hadn't met yet. If an assassin snuck in while they slept, they'd likely target the bottom bunks first. That said, if Alex sensed it in time, he could react quicker down there if a fight broke out, so he was leaning towards that.

Ultimately, he chose the top left bunk because Eric was less likely to talk to him up there. He gave the bedding a cursory inspection before climbing in. Then he removed his leathers, keeping his swords by his side while he slept.

He couldn't sleep, though. Whenever he closed his eyes, Laura was there, and he felt depraved.

Instead, he pulled out a book on metallurgy. He studied as much as he could by dim light until eventually, drowsiness claimed him, and he found himself elsewhere.

He slept and he dreamed.

"Alex.."

A voice in the darkness called out to him.

"Alex…"

He stirred, twisting onto his side.

"Unwanting… pain."

Annoyed, Alex snapped his eyes open—and was shocked at what he saw. Mere feet from his head, where the barrack roof should have been, there was only a dark nothingness. At least, it appeared to be nothingness. At first, he couldn't see them—the slits, the rifts that lay dormant in space. Then they opened.

Countless red eyes in the dark stared back at him, speaking from within.

"Ahh… to think your soul… had such depthsss… Are you… a Lossst Soul too…?"

Alex opened his mouth to scream but found he couldn't. They surged in, filling him with their void. For a fraction of a second, he noticed Nychta's purple light beside him, warding them off.

Then there was nothing. Darkness fell again.

"Alex…" a voice called.

He shielded his eyes from a new brightness. Just five more minutes.

Laura's voice cooed in his ear. "Alex… wake up."

He opened his eyes. He found himself lying on a picnic blanket in a meadow of flowers. Laura lay beside him, her head rested on her palm. Loose hairs twisted from her braids, framing her face as it lit up bronze in the light.

"You were about to miss the sunset, silly."

She was right. Alex was the one who'd brought her up here, and he'd been about to sleep right through it. He'd stayed up all last night planning their date. What was it all for if he fumbled in the end?

He sat up.

They watched the sun fall over blue seas. The meadow was atop sheer cliffs, and he could hear the giggling of children on the beach below. No… not children. Eric and the others were playing tag with the ocean waves, laughing as Dalton was swept away.

"Once this quest is over… I think I'm going to miss them."

Laura's voice was wistful. Strangely, Alex was feeling the same way.

Their time together was far from over, though, and right now, it was just the two of them. The rest of the world didn't seem to matter.

The sun cast long shadows over the golden meadow. Their shadows joined as Laura scooted closer, burrowing her head into the nook of his shoulder. He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Her hand found his, and they watched the sky. Gold gave way to the colors of dusk, and they saw it in the clouds, in the ocean's reflection, in the daisies, and felt it on each other's skin.

Orange. Then pink. Purple. Then crimson.

It was the last one that stuck with Alex. The flowers around him all wilted, reblooming under dusk as crimson lilies. The sight was astounding. It was the simple things in life, wasn't it?

"Laura, you won't want to miss this," he said.

"Hey… Laura?"

He frowned. There was crimson on her skin, a trail of it where their hands linked. Night fell, and he still stared at it, uncomprehending. It formed an ocean of its own in the dark, rising to his knees where he knelt. Her hand was still in his, but it had grown cold. Seeking warmth, he trailed that stream of crimson up her wrist. It thickened to a river. He traced it further, from her biceps to her collar bone. A splash sounded nearby, but Alex couldn't tear his eyes away.

He found a fountain of blood at Laura's neck.

"Oh no… were you two lovers?"

Anne whispered in his ear as her arms draped around him. Alex looked down. Laura's body was already starting to wilt. His voice didn't feel his own.

"Yes. A long time ago," he whispered.

Anne's expression was pitying. "Aw, honey. You should have told me sooner! If I had known that, why, I would have made it so much wors—"

The Red Mistress choked on her words as Alex decapitated her. Blood spurted from her open neck, pluming out as mist. His mouth was thick with the taste of it, but he felt no satisfaction. If it were truly Anne, she wouldn't have gone down so easily.

He wouldn't have let her.

He flicked Nythca clean. Anne's domain fell away, and he was in the mists again. Chaos sounded around him as the vampires hunted the few remaining survivors. Distantly, he heard Eric's voice.

"Alex! We're retreating. The assassin's been dealt a fatal wound, but his mists are—"

Alex ignored him, staring down at Laura's corpse. He dug his nails into his fist. Retreat. The word tasted ugly on his tongue. It was a word meant for the weak, for those who had no grip over their own destiny.

Was he still weak?

His blood boiled. Then he looked again at the corpse.

A slight shimmer caught his eye. The vampire he'd killed hadn't been the Red Mistress, but it hadn't been powerless either. Surely enough, when he knelt before the creature's headless body, he found its hands clasped around a beaded bracelet.

He held it up.

Relic: Ghostbeads

Allows its wearer to become immaterial for a short time.

A Relic?

Right… from the supply drop. So, the vampires had one after all—and with such a useful power, too. He laughed.

Then he screamed, kicking the vampiric bastard's head into a tree. Only then, from the exertion, did he notice the wounds all over his body. They'd scarred him all over. And they'd just been nameless vampires. Fucking nobodies. The blood boiling in his veins searched for an escape. He searched around him too. For a vampire, for some fuck's skull to cave in.

Then he remembered. He'd left one on its knees, whimpering. What did they call her? Ananise? She'd just seemed so helpless, like there'd be no satisfaction in killing her. None of that had changed, but maybe she would have a relic for him too. He'd need more power if he wanted to kill Anne.

He trekked back the way he'd come, slipping the bracelet over his wrist and feeling its power flood through him. He prepared himself for, reminding himself that vengeance started with small steps.

Still, when he found the vampire right where he'd left her, he couldn't help feeling disappointed. She hadn't even tried to run. She just knelt in the dirt, head bowed, eyes vacant, mumbling some incomprehensible nonsense.

"God-dammit. Get it together!" he yelled.

He tossed the vampire's decapitated head onto the ground beside her, but even that didn't make her stir. Alex's blood boiled hotter. The way she avoided his gaze, as if trying to convince herself he wasn't really there. He gripped his sword, looming closer.

Wait. Was she… praying?

"Oh, L-Lady Light. Please guide your faithful servant t-to deliverance in these trying…"

"A vampire praying to Lady Light?" Alex slapped his forehead. "Christ, I've never heard that one before! It's always some Constellation of blood or darkness with you sick fucks. You really think she'd answer?"

"H-hold me steady as darkness c-closes in…"

She still pretended not to see him. He ground his jaw.

"You think you've earned any right to pray?!" he screamed. "You kill without batting an eye, but now that it's your turn, you ask for deliverance? Deliverance to where?! There's no heaven, no afterlife. You really think that's where all your comrades ended up?!"

The vampire quivered, finally meeting the glassy-eyed stare of the head beside her. "L-Let your steadfast light shine w-where all seems lost. Where none dare tread, where only shadows linger…"

Alex scowled, the gag already losing its humor. He hoisted her up by her hair, matting her blonde locks with blood, and forced her to face him. Then he brought Nythca to the vampire's neck. "I don't know where you'll end up, but it won't be heaven. Just count your lucky stars you'll be getting there quickly."

He swung his blade.

Or—he thought he had. But as his gaze fell on the vampire's face, he realized he hadn't. The memory of Laura in her similarly religious garb had stopped him cold. And Nychta trembled.

His face twisted in anger. A defunct blade was nothing more than a tool. He forced his will upon Nychta, drawing a line of red the vampire's flesh, and relishing the fear in the bitch's expression—

No, there was no fear there anymore. The vampire calmly placed her hand on his chest, her expression filled with sorrow and conviction. She prayed.

"...And let Lady Light cleanse your fallen soul."

Raw energy welled up like a storm from her palm, but it was completely harmless to the living.

"Divine energy?" Alex scoffed. "What do I look like, an evil spirit or somethi—"

Then her palm erupted with light, sending him barreling down the mountain.

* * *

Alex stared blankly up at the mists and the gloom of the forest, feeling as though he'd woken from a long dream.

From this angle, he could almost deceive himself into thinking these were normal, living trees. Pines, maybe—the tall sort that grew in the Washington countryside. Thick at their base, with yards of bark before their lustrous green leaves grew. By then, the mists were dense enough that he could almost convince himself they were still green, just concealed.

It was when he stopped to wonder why the sky was sideways that the pain hit him. His ribs, his back, his bones—crushed. His flesh—covered in gashes. He lay wedged sideways into a tree, embedded in its bark like a meteor cratered into Earth. Looking farther up the mountain, he saw many trees blown to splinters in a trajectory that led directly to him.

Then the tree began to regrow. His blood had soaked into its root, and the bark he'd cratered coiled in growth, locking him in place. He summoned his last health potion and fumbled with the cork. His hands trembled. He tipped the bottle back—then heard it shatter on the ground as wood clenched around his wrist.

Greater Health Potion has been consumed.

HP: 33%... 34%

It was too late. The tree was swallowing him whole, crushing and restricting him, narrowing his view of the mists. He stretched out his left hand, grasping for any sort of relief.

Relief found him instead.

His fingers clenched around the familiar wooden-carved hilt, and he stabbed.

[Weapon Mastery] has breached 35% threshold.

New ability unlocked: [Summon Weapon]

The tree was cleansed. Alex pried himself free from its dissipating bark. By the time he managed, he'd recovered just enough health to stand—or teeter. Balance proved too much for his aching body, and he leaned against a nearby tree for support. Then stabbed it when its roots snaked toward him like tendrils, staggering elsewhere.

Undead Tree has been cleansed.

This was not Washington, and he wasn't out for some hike in the woods. His mind was hazy, but he remembered enough to know things weren't good. His health wouldn't recover fast enough to hide his blood scent from the wraith's—or worse, any Mages who might've sensed the power of his… relic?

He faltered for a second, glancing down at his wrist. The beaded bracelet oozed with a powerful aura. He half-expected to hear that voice in his head—the one that whispered that no amount of power would be enough. He hoped it wouldn't come.

But it did. That voice, at least, had been his own. He pushed off the tree, wreathing himself desperately in Stealth. The skill didn't take full hold. He clutched his chest, licks of shadow tapering off him. Channeling mana through the skill's pathways was like blowing air through a cracked tube, trying to light a fire beneath blizzard winds. He might succeed, but it was a forceful maneuver, one that only wore further on the skill's pathways. Cracking was one thing. If they shattered, at best, he would never wield Stealth again.

At worst, he'd be crippled, and considering where he was, even the best case was a death sentence. The wraiths' cries echoed nearby. He pushed himself off, settling into a sort of half-stealth.

The sun was directly overhead.

It was daytime. Maybe midday. Maybe afternoon. He couldn't tell. He couldn't think—every thought was punctuated with pain. It was enough of an approximation to assume North-west—the direction of the city—and to hope he was, in fact, heading South-east. He traveled laterally from the dying smoke trail. He prayed his path cut through the mountains on the slope he'd already fallen down. If his path lay in the complete opposite direction, he wasn't sure he could risk making the journey back in his state.

Yet, he wasn't sure he could gamble on camping in a path that wasn't his either.

Warning! You have Invaded the Path of Twisting Flesh!

Would you like to initiate a kill-quest?

Yes/N—

No, he intoned. But this path's residents would be alerted of his invasion regardless of his intentions. He quickly slipped through the other side, back into the mists. His Stamina potion had worn off and he thanked the gods he was still charged because the electricity coursing through his body was the only thing keeping him going in his condition.

He accidentally smeared a bloody handprint on a tree as he passed by. His last health potion had scabbed his wounds and reset his bones, but the fractures took longer to heal. Blood loss left him lightheaded. His mana pool was faring no better.

Stealth accomplished nothing in its state. It would hide him from no monster. But he kept it alive, feeding it the barest trickle of mana, because if he let the shadows fall now, he knew they wouldn't return. He'd be threading a thin line if he ran into danger. His mana flow would need to be fast, yet gentle enough not to shatter his pathways. And controlled enough to hide any pain from his voice.

When the moment came, he bit down hard on his lip, the shadows hiding him from the only thing that terrified him more than monsters:

Voices.

"You're a slip of a bitch, aren't you?" a man growled.

His voice was husk and throaty. Alex tried to shift for a better view but realized his mistake when he found that he couldn't move his feet. Tendrils of roots from the nearest tree had snaked around his ankles, enticed by the blood on his boots. He knew his Stealth wouldn't hide a Cleansing blow. So he knelt, frantically hacking at the roots with his dagger.

"No, no, no. Don't even try to run."

Cringing at the noise he was making, Alex looked up. Two silhouettes stood a handful of yards away. One, the man, loomed larger as he advanced on someone much smaller—the "bitch", Alex presumed.

It was clearly a hostile situation. But it was impossible to tell if they were standing on a path or not. He might have to travel hundreds of yards to safely circumvent it.

His heart hammered, a million needles stabbing into his chest. Blood dripped from his nose and ears as Stealth's pathways constricted. Slowly, steadily, he rose to his feet. Then he stumbled.

"Who's there?!" the man yelled.

Alex flattened himself against the ground, straining to keep hold of his skill. The man's gaze swept over the mists, pulsing with bloodlust.

A bloodlust Alex recognized. He'd felt it during the heat of battle atop the mountain. It was the trained intent of an assassin, sharpened by the callous indifference of a vampire. It carried the unspoken promise:

If you interfere, I will kill you.

But… it was nothing compared to his. The sensation soon passed.

"Were you trying to deceive me?" The vampire said. "You think I'd jump at a little noise, or some decoy scent? This is your last chance. Hand it over now, and I'll make your death a quick one."

"Never!" a girl's voice spat. "I'll carve your limbs into a pretzel and let you die slowly! Come a little closer—I fucking dare you!"

Alex's eyes widened.

"So, you've made your choi—"

In one final burst of stealth, Alex slid Nythca into the vampire's heart.

A Vampire has been slain

Stealth fled him, and he used her to support himself, his vision bleary as he coughed and hacked. Then he looked at the girl, laughing in relief. "Finally. I finally found you, Gloomy. Listen, we have to talk. I have an offer—"

"Who are you?!" Gloomy snarled. "And who's Gloomy!"

Mana began to stir in her palm. She backed away warily. Alex frowned. In his rush, he'd forgotten this part carried some danger as well. Young girl or not, she could be dangerous. And he was in no state to defend himself if it came to that.

"Sorry, sorry. I've… had a rough day. Ideally, we'd sit down over some peeled oranges and discuss things—ah, and Gloomy is just what I've taken to calling you. Since you refused to share your name and everything. No offense. But more to the point—"

"Wait… Alex?"

"Yeah, who else would I…"

He trailed off, examining himself. His clothes and leathers were caked in wet grime and dust. His hands touched his face—slick and sappy against his skin. He was covered head to toe in blood. He looked up, and for a second, Gloomy looked so much like Alyssa. He remembered Eric's words.

Face her as you are, Alex.

"I— I see," he said, wobbling. "These aren't ideal circumstances—"

"You followed me?!" she yelled. The revelation of who he was had only aggravated her. "You were after me from the start. I knew it!"

"What? What are you—of course not! If I were, I could've slit your throat in the first scenario!"

Gloomy seethed with anger. Alex quickly realized that was the wrong thing to say but his vision still ran red. He gestured frantically at the corpse. "Or what? You really think I was working with this thing?!"

In a panic, he searched desperately for the fangs. He found them. It was a vampire.

Then he spotted the briefest glimpse of a tattoo climbing the back of its neck and froze. It was the mark of the Blood Lotus Clan.

Gloomy's attention, however, had caught on something entirely different. She had spotted the beaded bracelet hanging around his wrist. Their eyes met, and Alex finally understood his position. This… wasn't how he'd wanted to do this, but there was no room for negotiation.

"Look, I'm exhausted," he said. "I need… I just want to sleep right now, and everything else can wait. So, let's calm down and examine our options. There's only two of them, and I think you'll like the second more than the first."

"Keep talking," she said.

"Okay, the first option. You try to kill me, and I try to kill you. Your fears will be eased, and you can pick this artifact you've been ogling off my corpse." Alex straightened slightly, subtly gripping his sword. "On the flipside—and I don't care if you believe me—there's about a forty percent chance I'll take you to the grave with me."

Gloomy's eyes burned red with fury, but she didn't move to attack. He could tell that if he'd told her the odds were actually Seventy percent, negotiations would have broken down.

"Keep talking," she repeated.

He bent his ring finger, leaving only his pinkie extended. "Option two is a lot cleaner. Do you know about soul oaths?"

"If this is some sort of trickery—"

So she doesn't.

"Look at your system," Alex snapped. "It's under miscellaneous tools."

Then, before she could take too close a look, he placed his hand over his heart, his soul stirring. "I swear on my soul to you, the person I tentatively call Gloomy, that I am not out to harm you. That I was never hired, requested, ordered, nor ever desired to bring you bodily harm in any way—aside from that time you shot a projectile at my head. The only reason I would ever take your life is if you left me no choice."

He spoke the words, and the air thrummed. Any awakened would instinctively know his words to be true. Still, he knew it wouldn't have the effect he wanted if he staggered over in pain.

He gritted his teeth and pushed past it. "Likewise… I'd like to arrange a soul-binding agreement with you, Gloomy, that we travel together on this path. This arrangement will last until we reach the city. And as long as it remains in effect, I will protect you from any threats to your well-being that we face—vampires, monsters, or otherwise. I only require that you aid me in fighting them off, and that you won't bring harm to me, either."

There was more he wanted to add, but Gloomy seemed suspicious enough already.

"Furthermore," he continued, "upon accepting this contract, I will give you this."

He slipped off the beaded bracelet—more hesitantly than he would have liked.

Gloomy stared at it. "Why?"

He squeezed his hand around Nychta. "Because I don't need it."

Alex had said that far more fiercely than intended. Her gaze moved between him and the Relic. He could see her weighing it all in her head. There were no costs for her in this deal. It only lowered her risk and increased what she stood to gain. It was the kind of thing that would've sounded too good to be true—if she weren't standing in front of a man one fight away from death's door.

"I… I accept," she said.

Then, as soon as she spoke the words, she collapsed, writhing in pain on the ground as the oath etched itself in her soul. "Agh! You! You fucking—"

Alex staggered past her, grunting a pained, soft chuckle. He dropped the artifact near her head and searched for a rock—not a tree—to settle down by. "I'm going to sleep for ten hours. If you wake me, I'll kill you."

"You idiot—gah! We… made a—"

"Swearing on your soul is not the same as making a binding vow," he said. "The words I spoke are true, but I can kill you if I change my mind. So don't change it for me. Just… just let me sleep."

Gloomy's suffering paused for a second. Then she screamed in wordless outrage.

Alex ignored her. He was suffering from the same pain she was, except he'd long grown used to it. He'd made too many soul oaths over his life, and there was a reason they weren't used often. Right now, at least, it was just one torment on top of all the others he was enduring.

He slid against the rock, sheathing Nythca, and noticed she'd gone quiet again. She'd saved him, but he could tell something was irreparably broken between them. He tried not to dwell on it. He shouldn't dwell on any of it.

Yet, now that the Lost Souls had been driven from his head, his mind felt terribly empty, and it was hard convincing himself not to look. He opened his kill feed.

Sixteen Humans have been Slain.

One Vampire has been Slain.

New Achievement! [Cold Hearted Killer]:

Congratulations, you have earned more than a dozen Death Marks from killing your own kind.

+3,000 Essence Crystals

Alex wiped his face with a towel as he counted the Essence. It was… a lot. It could probably get him… over level thirty-three, even after budgeting for purchases. He reeked of blood. But over the course of his life, he'd killed a lot of people who didn't deserve it. What's a few more on the list?

A silence passed. For a second, Alex hoped the Lost Souls' had returned to whisper that in his ear. But no, the thought had been his own. It had come from a place of weakness.

He chuckled, shuddered, then slid his head into his arms, wondering what Laura would've said to that.

She wouldn't have said anything. She'd have simply looked at him with sadness in her eyes, and undeserved pity. At that moment, he could almost imagine all the people he'd killed today: lingering, watching, reminding him that his fate is inevitable.

He closed his eyes. Mercifully, he didn't dream.

* * *

Charged state has ended.

Essence has Integrated with Strength

Strength +5

Essence has Integrated with Fortitude

Fortitude +3

Essence has Integrated with Dexterity

Dexterity +2

Essence has Integrated with Vitality

Vitality +3

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