A scream. Villagers scattered. Doors slammed shut. Quietude. Even the guards sauntered off, pretending they had somewhere else to protect, anywhere but here. No one wanted trouble, and there was trouble on the barren dirt path of the settlement.

  Hwayoung stepped forward. She drew Hazahnahkah, whispering to him. “Don’t give me help I don’t need.”

  Hazahnahkah didn’t think Hwayoung needed to even say that. Dalagun’s attributes were impressive, but they weren’t even close to Galfarys’. He didn’t bother checking anything beyond his most obvious qualities. He was no threat:

  Health (source of vitality and abilities): 27,600

  Energy (source of stamina and abilities): 3,700

  Agility (speed of actions): 5100

  Regeneration (rate of recovery per hour for Health and Energy): 20

  Tenacity (resistance to unwanted effects): 10,000

  Strength (physical or mental reality manipulation potency): 5,100

  The only reservation Hazahnahkah had about this fight was that it needed to end quickly. Hazahnahkah could return people back to life, but only for that brief and indescribable period the soul still remained in the corpse. This could be anywhere from a week to mere seconds. The cause of death mattered too.

  Sir Dalagun turned, thinking Hwayoung had been whispering to him. His hammer rested against his shoulder. He adjusted his grip. “What?”

  “You’re just going to pretend that you didn’t do that?” Hwayoung glanced at Zaz’s contorted body. “I didn’t know the “One True Hazahnahkah” employed murderers.”

  “Zaz isn’t who he says he is. Besides, all these dreams have ever done is lie to us. No more,” Sir Dalagun said. “The only thing we do is focus on getting off this hellhole of a paradise.”

  “Perhaps the dreams they have are lies, but that gives you no right to take their belief in them by force.”

  “That’s the kind of hell continent we’ve washed up on. You are welcome to do the same to me.”

  The man didn’t even address the murder at all. Nor did he look guilty or regretful. Hazahnahkah felt Hwayoung’s rage boil within his own—or maybe it was his own. It was difficult to tell in times like these, the moment before bloodthirst and bloodbath. Hwayoung thrust Hazahnahkah towards Dalagun’s head. He was fast, sidestepping and swinging whilst he did so. Hwayoung hopped over the blow, slashing as she passed. Her blade cut shallow across his thigh. He grunted. Turned. Swung again. She ducked. The hammer hit a fence post and snapped it in two.

  She moved low. Fast. The man tried to reposition but was off balance. She stepped in close, blade rising.

  She cut across his forearm. He dropped the hammer.

  She kept moving. One step. Then another.

  She stabbed once, low in the ribs. The blade sank in deep. He choked. His knees buckled. It ended as fast as he began it, without him even aware how much he bled out. The land soaked it all up, and as he walked backward, confident and victorious, he collapsed with an anticlimactic thud. The hammer hit the ground a second time, slower now. Hwayoung stepped back. Her sword hung by her side. Her breathing was steady.

  “Serpent’s shit,” she mumbled, wiping her mouth.

  The woman wrapped with her snake cried with an ecstatic leap. “Food for mommy!”

  Just before she could feed both Zaz and Dalagun to the snake, Galfarys leapt in the way. “Stop! Are you mad?!”

  “Mother is mad. Mother angry hungry.”

  Hazahnahkah had crossed many people in his life, but never a woman who called a snake “mother”. The people Knife had given dreams only seemed more and more bizarre. They dressed strangely, behaved strangely, and lived strangely. They didn’t care about other people at all. Not their feelings, thoughts, or lives. Hwayoung thrust Hazahnahkah into Zaz. She whispered.

  “Haz, can you wake them?”

  Hazahnahkah’s Terrors did not require physical touch, but he did need to understand the exact nature of the injured body to conduct his work. He currently did not see a way to communicate this to her without speaking to everyone else, but he supposed like most things he’d inform her before bed. For now, he revived Zaz instantly with his Second and Third Terrors.

  Galfarys and Lamina gasped. Hwayoung stuck Hazahnahkah into Dalagun next. Hazahnahkah revived him too, hoping the man learned his lesson.

  -Reviving friends and foes alike, Hwayoung is quite the girl.

  Hazahnahkah: Friendly 50/100 → Impressed 60/100

  Hwayoung: Wonderstruck 0/100 → Friends 110/100

  Ysan: Lamented 100/100

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Zaz awoke not even realizing he had died. He went right back to talking as if he’d simply wiped away a bad sneeze. “Serpent’s Breath,” he cursed. “Let us continue after Nazaki tomorrow, I’m afraid I’m a bit sore...” He cracked his back, groaning.

  Hazahnahkah perused the boy to make sure he was alright. It seemed “Zaz” was his nickname, as his brainwaves did not reflect the same name for himself. His stats were even lower than an average human’s, and not worth examining in detail. Though his talents were rather useful for safe traveling:

  Rear Fighter: Zalaster gains +10% Agility for every ally traveling with him.

  Quiet Redirection: Zalaster may afflict [Quiet Redirection] on a 3x3x3 square of space of up to 150 feet away from him. The affected area produces no sound. Up to 20 squares of separate space can be affected at any given time, with each square using 1 Energy per second.

  Imperfect Swordpriest Novice: Zalaster can redirect projectiles already in motion within a limited radius. Only projectiles moving faster than a minimum threshold may be affected. Control weakens rapidly beyond a short distance. This ability can be activated through areas affected by [Quiet Redirection].

  [Zalaster’s Equipment]

  Exceptional Crossbow: This crossbow was made so well it can essentially fire any projectile loosely shaped like a stick.

  Exceptional Crossbow Quiver: A finely crafted quiver that enhances the performance of any crossbow bolts stored within it. Holds up to 50 Fawn City standard bolts at a time.

  Royal Ranged Swordcoat: Grants the wearer guaranteed avoidance of one perceivable melee attack every five minutes.

  Worn Vestments: +10 to Health and Tenacity.

  It was no wonder Vrast had gathered people like this together. Zalaster’s abilities combined with anyone else’s seemed quite powerful.

  Dalagun sat up, wiping away the drool and dirt from his face. He gasped a bit, red in the face, aware of what had happened. He then rubbed his nose, reverting to his callous self. “Because I killed you, you dumbass.”

  There was a flash of disbelief, terror, then pure rage on Zaz’s face as he processed the information, and that it was quite true. “What?”

  Hwayoung was clearly growing weary of this. “And I brought you back, as well as you—Sir Dalagun. I will not be doing so again.”

  Zaz clenched his jaws a bit tighter. He lifted his crossbow towards the knight’s face, as if envisioning what it would look like with a bolt through it. He sat back down, apparently not able to stomach whatever he saw. Hwayoung kept Hazahnahkah aimed on Dalagun. He twisted to them, his whole face sagged with a scowl.

  “Vrast brought me back, not you,” Dalagun argued. “The Sword is the only reason you beat me. I confess I did not believe Hazahnahkah’s sister chose you.”

  “This is not Hazahnahkah’s sister, this is Hazahnahkah himself.” Hwayoung held Hazahnahkah out, and pointed to where their wounds once were. “What else could rectify death but the Sword’s Second Terror, the creation of phenomena?”

  Dalagun scoffed. “Yeah, right.” He crossed his arms, and took a subtle step back. It did not seem conscious. He seemed discreetly bothered by the possibility that his dreams were not what they thought they were.

  “And you were wrong about one other thing.”

  “Pray tell.”

  “The reason I beat you, of course.”

  The frown on Dalagun’s face deepened. Soldiers were surrounding them. And so were angsty residents. A well dressed up fellow parted his way through, proclaimed by the badge on his breast to be the town’s marshal.

  “I understand you are not normal folk, but even the abnormal must obey the law. You cannot go bathing the streets in corpses even if you are to resurrect them later. This is a path for horses, not for magicians and clowns.”

  Hwayoung raised a brow. Hazahnahkah was also not expecting this reaction to their display, however they did not argue. The marshal, surprisingly, did his job. He split up the group and cleaned up the mess, taking in each and every person for quick questioning before letting them go even quicker. The marshal did not care or want to get involved with Hazahnahkah. It seemed the illusion of control was more important than actual control—and this was nothing new to the sword.

  Zaz waited outside the marshal’s dilapidated shack of an office, perched against the fence outside, rolling a rock back and forth with his foot. He waved energetically, but it was clear what had happened fatigued him mentally, if not physically.

  Hwayoung was still on her guard, and for good reason. Knife had clearly only united the most unstable and violent people under “Nazaki’s” dream. She did not wave back. She nodded curtly, then bowed.

  “How long were you waiting for me?” she asked.

  “Two hours. Dalagun is at the night house here, and Lamina is “bathing” her mother. I don’t really want any part in either of those events.”

  “Lamina is the woman with the snake?”

  “Yes. And don’t ask about it. She is sick. A wild animal. I kept my eyes on her more than Dalagun, at least until he killed me.”

  “You all get along great. Why do you put up with them just because your dreams told you to?”

  Zaz’s eyes darkened. “It was a dream worth putting up with them, that’s why. They are also more traveled and experienced than I. And I have things I must do, regardless of who I do them with.” He then quickly changed directions—and topics, clearly not wanting to discuss the dreams any longer. He pointed towards the mountains north. “Lamina takes two days for the “bathing” process. After which, we depart towards the northern regions where Nazaki has gone. They are extremely treacherous, and we have been unable to cross them. If you really carry Hazahnahkah, you may prove it to us through there. We aim to capture Bankanzaku, and your ability to… rectify death would be most fruitful.”

  Bankanzaku. Hazahnahkah couldn’t believe he was hearing that name so soon again. He wanted to shout at Hwayoung to stay away, but for now kept silent.

  “Why would Nazaki want Bankanzaku? He’s a Rapscallion.”

  Hwayoung’s exclamation caught Hazahnahkah off guard. Bankanzaku was a Rapscallion as well? Hazahnahkah recoiled at the thought—the idea that he and Bankanzaku were both in the same group had a terrible taste. This was the man who had ruined December 11th, Ysan, and so many others’ livelihoods. What had Hazahnahkah done with his previous wielders to warrant such infamy?

  Zaz had only frowned. “Do you know of the stories of the Orphanspawn?”

  Hwayoung tightened her grip around Hazahnahkah. Her palm was clammy and burning. “Yes.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be hard to guess they can be found… hunting their father.”

  Hwayoung’s tongue clicked, her jaw set, suppressing most of what came out. “You’re hunting for December 11th in my place. You’ll trade their father for their services.”

  “That’s a start,” Zaz said.

  Hazahnahkah kept his silence as Hwayoung’s stare burrowed into him. It was clear that Nazaki was chasing December 11th, that he had taken up the mission to find the Orphanspawn and get them to protect Osayn from Yurreth in Hwayoung’s place. Of course, this would never work. This must have been some trick by Knife, something related to this false “One True Hazahnahkah” dream she was giving everyone.

  Hwayoung and Hazahnahkah both knew the truth.

  Nazaki was chasing a ghost.