"So, you're telling me that you guys have trains?!" Lone said, staring at Stewart with wide eyes.
They had been traveling for a day now. During their time, they hadn't encountered a single Bestial. There were signs they had been there before, from dried blood, scratch marks, and even some bones they left behind. Yet none remained.
Lone felt calm. At the start of the game, he encountered nothing but stress and fear. Stress from figuring out what to do.
"Should I parry?"
"Should I stab?"
"Should I give up my ground?"
"Should I run?"
These were the thoughts that plagued him whenever he fought the Bestials. Every step he took and every breath he took, he had to think and think. He had to because if he made one wrong move. If he allowed them to gain an edge on him. They would not hesitate to clamp their maws onto his head.
Yes, he had fun fighting. Yes, he was thrilled to swing his spear. Yes, he was excited when he felt his spear plunge through their flesh.
Yet, he was still afraid.
He felt fear whenever he fought them.
He was afraid of the pain. He was afraid of the sensation of dodging a spine or even a claw that nearly missed his throat.
"But most of all, I am afraid of dying."
"Well, we call them Section Rails since they can only be found ontop or inside of the walls that separate the sections," Stewart said as he held his blade on his shoulder. His eyes weren't darting around as they did in the past. His body wasn't tightened, and his ears weren't twitching at the smallest of sounds.
For once, he was relaxing.
He did not have to stay on edge. He did not have to hold his blade tight for once. He did not have to keep one eye open while sleeping. He did not have to watch their backs when they walked.
This might be the only time he felt true peace.
Yet, this peace unnerved him. His mind would not stop racing through the possibilities. His body would strain and tighten every so often. A habit he developed while living in the city as a street kid. A habit that helped him live and thrive.
"A habit I sadly made a part of my life."
"And you said that you guys have things called Hoppers?" Lone asked curiously, a smile on his face. A smile he was far too used to making when he was afraid. When did it form? This habit of his.
If he had to think, he would have to say since elementary school. Yes, it happened in elementary school. He had encountered something that forced him to smile that day. His mind had sadly matured then and there. His mind forced him to smile from then on.
"People would think it's an exaggeration, but I stopped caring what they thought."
"Yeah, they are called Hoppers, but in truth, they are just cable cars that help us hop from level to level," Stewart said as he breathed out. His muscles tightened once again before they finally relaxed.
He mustn't forget that he was in the Frozen Plains. He could not relax, not for a second, unless he wanted to die like his comrades.
He could remember them fighting against those Bestials with everything they had. He could have helped them fight. He could have taken as many of those four eye beasts and saved his comrades their energy. Energy they could have used to fight off those beasts. Energy they could have used to last longer.
Judith. A girl who used to bring him snacks after their training. A girl who said she wanted to become a Wielder and save as many people as she could, like the heroes in the tales she read when she was little.
Mark. A kind man who had the appearance of a cold man, but the heart of a teddy bear. He joined because he wanted save enough money for his sister. So she wouldn't have to worry about education and enter SectionD, so she could learn medicine and become a world-class doctor. Or a City class doctor.
Merrow. A kid who stayed by himself, always carried a book with him, and always wore his square glasses. When asked, he would always say it was a journal that held everything he knew. When asked if he would publish his journal, he said no. Talking about how he wanted to be buried with it, as it would allow the person who would dig up his grave to know who he was. To know he wasn't just a skeleton buried in the dirt.
Tom. A sneaky man who would gamble his check one day and the next act like an honest role model. If not for his supreme mastery of the pike, he would have been kicked and maybe even imprisoned for the amount of gambling he did while at boot camp. He would talk about how life was short and that you needed to spend your check before you couldn't anymore.
"How I miss you guys."
"Why are the Sections named after a letter in the alphabet?" Lone asked, recalling something Stewart had told him.
Gods, he wished he could change. Gods, he wished he didn't have to say one thing but meant another. Gods, he wished he could stop repeating himself!
He hated it when someone made him repeat himself over and over again. He didn't hate them if they couldn't hear him or if they forgot something he told them.
No, what he hated was when someone would say something that he had told them many times he couldn't do or even enjoy. Yet, it would persist day after day. Night after night, they would speak to him, repeating themselves like a broken record.
"I can't taste anything. I can't smell anything. So please stop asking me to taste a soup or smell a perfume!!!"
"I guess your town's education wasn't really up to code. The reason they are named after letters is that they are, in truth, named after the first letter of our Gods," Stewart said as he raised one finger up as though he was a teacher giving a lesson.
Yet, when he fought those Bestials, he couldn't stop the surge of excitement. He couldn't stop the pull in his spine and the yearning in his heart. The sight of seeing something challenging, something that could quench the call in his mind.
He would say he hated fighting. He would always say he hated raising his blade against someone and hurting them. He would always say that. He would always act like a coward and try to run.
But in truth, he enjoyed the feeling of slicing something. No, of slicing someone. He always enjoyed it.
When he was in the streets, he would always run when it appeared. But when he was cornered with nowhere to run, the rush that hit his head was top-notch. He would always grab a rusty pipe, a broken plank, or even a loose nail and fight. He would always fight if there was no option left.
Always praying in his heart that there was no other option.
Maybe that was why that man took him in. Maybe that was why that man taught him how to use a blade when that man used a spear. Maybe that was why that man enrolled in the academy and became his leader in boot camp.
The man knew his lust for blood. He knew his desire to harm others and his wish to cut.
"Is that why you gave me a blade that gets stronger the more blood it spills?"
"Right! You did say the names of the Gods. What were they? There was Alpha, the God of the World. Then Beta, the Goddess of the Skies. Gamma, the God of Tricks. Delta, the God of Miracles. Epsilon, the God of Travels. Zeta, the Goddess of Adventure. Eta, the Goddess of the Night. Theta, the God of the Sun. And finally, there is Iota, the God of Advancement," Lone said as he smiled, his face turned to Stewart as both of his spears rested against his shoulder. Mimicking Stewart.
Why did I smile that day? Why did I continue smiling?
Was I looking for attention?
No, I avoided that as if it were a plague.
"Why did I smile that day?"
"Actually, Iota is both a God and a Goddess. You see, they never chose a gender to appear as and instead appeared as a being of both genders. The scriptures said that Iota-" Stewart explained as he breathed out again. His muscles were twitching, and his eyes were once again darting.
Why do I like fighting?
Was it to prove myself?
No, I won't make an excuse for myself.
"Why do I like killing?"
"So what Section are you from?" Lone asked.
"I am from Section T. The Section dedicated to Theta, the God of the sun. It's well known that the best warriors who joined the association could be traced back to Section T," Stewart said with pride in his voice and his chest puffed out.
"That reminds me, what is the Association?" Lone asked once again.
"The Association is sort of like a government while at the same time a orginization. You see, all Sections have their own form of government and laws, but the Association is the city-wide government set up to act against those who try to abuse their power. But, they are also an armed force that moves against threats such as Bestials and the Deadlocks," Stewart said as he looked at the nearby trees. Unease was creeping up his spine as his mind slowly became clear.
Lone was about to speak, but stopped a breath short when a familiar black screen appeared. This was odd. But what was more odd were the white words written on its surface.
[Warning! Warning! Warning!]
A warning? Did it ever give warnings? It did once, but that was when it believed that he was going to die.
[A Twisted has been detected! The Player's current level is not yet at the Twisted's level! The Player is advised to run!]
[RUN]
"Run?" Was the only word Lone got out before a hand grabbed the back of his head and pushed him down. Lone looked and saw that the hand belonged to Stewart.
When both of them hit the hard, dirty ground, Lone was about to shout at him. Question him why he shoved him down. But the next second, a shiver ran up his spine.
A gust of wind hit his back, followed by a bright light shining from above.
[Memories. Precious Memories. I sense them.]
A distorted voice range in their minds. Yet at the same time, it sounded as though it was above them.
Both of them looked up and could only shiver in fear.
A golden goblet floated above them. Blue liquid poured out of its top, yet it never touched the ground. Instead, the liquid swirled around the surface, making it seem as though it were actually engraved there. The light shining off of it only made the golden goblet seem Divine.
The Goblet slowly tipped over. Its movement slow and deliberate. Once its top was finally facing both of them, a shiver ran up both of their spines.
At the top of this Goblet were teeth forming around the rim, making it seem as though it were a mouth. Inside this mouth was a single eye looking down at them with its green iris. Excited was the only thing to describe this eyeball.
[Memories. Precious Memories. Hungry. Salivating just at the thought.]
The distorted voice said as the blue liquid pouring from the sides of the mouth increased in size.