The next day finally arrived, like a fated sentence striking true, and the group was busy finishing their preparations. The sky was still dark, and the Dark Sea had yet to retreat before the artificial sun of the Forgotten Shore.
After sorting everything out, they shared a light breakfast in silence. Zachary took a moment to study his companions. They looked calm and composed, just as they did on any other day, but beneath that calm their expressions carried a faint trace of tension that refused to fade. Even so, they remained focused—after all, it was Zachary who bore the heaviest role in their plan.
'And what a plan. I must say, I've really outdone myself,' Zachary thought with dry humor as he bit into a strip of dried meat. He had never been much of a fan of RTS games, so the fact that he had managed to come up with this strategy sincerely surprised him. Then, suddenly, a realization struck him.
Maybe this was what Eddard had been trying to teach him with his last riddle.
From the very beginning, "What's in my pocket?" was never a riddle meant to be answered. The very act of searching for an answer had been the answer itself. Perhaps the question could also be: "What can I do with what's in my pocket?" It was a lesson meant to show that there is always a way forward.
Eddard had wanted to teach him that while a sharp body was good, a sharp mind was better. To wield the first, he needed the second. He had to never stop thinking, no matter the situation. As long as he kept searching for answers, he could stay alive—or even emerge victorious. Humanity's greatest strength had always been its intellect, its curiosity, its innovation, and its ability to learn. There had always been creatures stronger than us—beasts so terrifying that survival demanded we band together in desperate communities.
And yet, despite all that, humanity still conquered the vastness of the earth.
But here, in this new world—this new reality—where humans could grow strong enough to clash with tyrannical monsters, that humble truth had been forgotten. Perhaps only Eddard, a mundane man among powerhouses, had managed to remember it. And perhaps that was why he had tried to pass it down to his only disciple, hidden in a simple riddle.
A person who thinks, a person who plans, is a person who stands better prepared against the unexpected… and maybe, just maybe, someone who can resist Fate.
'Let's see if it holds true,' Zachary thought as he rose to his feet.
The sea was beginning to stir, preparing for its retreat. The girls followed him to the edge of the Bone Ridge, descending in pace with the receding waters. They couldn't afford to wait for the sea to fully retreat—they needed every precious minute of sunlight they could claim. It was a risk, as they might stumble across a stray Deep Creature, but fortune favored them: they reached the muddy ground safely.
As they began moving through the dead labyrinth in tense silence, Zachary's mind returned to his earlier discovery — or more importantly, to the author of that idea: Eddard.
'What would Nedd be doing right now?' Zachary wondered with genuine curiosity. It had been about a month since he arrived in the Dream Realm. He had made sure to warn the old man that he might take a while to return, and after spending a month with the mundane veteran, he had discovered that — despite acting like a steeled and stoic man — Eddard was actually quite warm deep down.
Zachary mused with an honest smile. 'He must be visiting my sleeping pod from time to time with the excuse that he's making sure I hopefully won't come back. That cynical old geezer.'
With these thoughts in mind, and wearing a calmer expression, he continued leading the group across the Ashen Labyrinth. There was no real danger here, but still they advanced with caution. After a couple of hours, they finally reached the Ashen Sea. Quietly instructing the girls to wait, Zachary went ahead to double-check their planned route.
Focusing on the horizon, he barely managed to make out the Ashen Barrow. At its crown stood a small shadow—still and watchful. The Carapace Demon loomed there, guarding the tree.
Confirming their target, Zachary returned to the girls. Nephis was just finishing her task with the Scavenger Echo, tying makeshift bags with seaweed rope to its shell. Noticing his return, she approached with the crude bow strapped to her back.
"It's ready," she said flatly. But her usual impassive face now carried a disapproving frown—the strongest expression she had shown since they first met.
"Perfect," Zachary replied.
He wanted to ask about that frown, but he already had a suspicion. And knowing this wasn't the right moment, he let it pass.
"You know the drill, Neph," he said instead, handing her a bone-carved whistle.
She took it, opening her mouth as if to argue. But after a moment's hesitation, Nephis simply shook her head and said calmly, "Be careful."
With that, she turned toward Cassie. Taking the blind girl's hand, the two began running parallel to the Ashen Barrow. Watching them go, Zachary sighed deeply. Turning back, his eyes fell on the Echo. It looked absurdly awkward with all the bundles strapped to its body—bags slung across its back and even packages tied around its sturdy legs.
The sight made him laugh. "Are you ready, my Al-Qaedan friend?" he asked in a mocking tone.
The Echo turned its carapaced head toward him but didn't bother to make a sound.
Shaking his head in defeat, Zachary muttered, "That's what I thought."
The plan began.
***
Traveling west through the Forgotten Shore, they finally reached the eastern side of the Ashen Barrow. With the plan now in motion, the group split in two—Nephis and Cassie moved toward the southern side of the cursed tree, while Zachary and the Scavenger Echo advanced toward the north.
Zachary sprinted at full speed, the Echo following close behind. He couldn't help but be surprised that, even with all the extra weight strapped to its body, the creature managed to keep up. Glancing at the overworked Scavenger, he shouted with a grin, "Run like the wind, Bullseye!"
The Echo, as always, gave no reply. What it had in beauty, it lacked in personality. Just as Zachary was lampooning, a sharp whistle cut through the air. Nephis was in position.
Sharpening his focus, he pushed harder, accelerating. The jokes could wait. Now it was time to be serious.
The first part of the plan was straightforward. Using what they had learned the previous day, Nephis would fire arrows from a safe distance, forcing the Carapace Demon to remain on the southern side of the Barrow. That would give Zachary and the Echo a chance to infiltrate from the north.
Zachary dashed up the slope of the Barrow. Once they reached the top, he raised the bone whistle and blew with all his strength. A piercing note rang across the Ashen Barrow, muffled by distance by the time it reached the girls—but the blind seer caught it immediately.
"Let's go, Neph," Cassie urged.
Strapping the crude bow to her back, Nephis grabbed Cassie's hand and the two sprinted toward the eastern side of the tree. The second part of the plan was beginning.
Zachary never slowed. Stashing the whistle, he directed the Echo to continue straight toward the tree. Meanwhile, he veered right, circling around the western side of the Barrow. He had to be fast—his signal hadn't only been heard by the girls.
The Carapace Demon had noticed. Someone had infiltrated its domain.
Zachary kept running south, desperate to cover as much ground as possible before the Carapace Demon noticed him—or worse, noticed his Attribute. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he saw it: a growing figure in the distance, the towering Demon charging toward him at full speed.
The sight was crushing. His steps faltered for a moment, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself onward.
'If it doesn't work?' The wild thought flashed in his mind, only to be purged instantly. The time for doubts was long gone. Now there was only action.
Twenty meters. That was the distance. The exact range at which the Demon reacted to the [Blasphemer] Attribute. Zachary had reached the point of no return. Shifting his trajectory slightly, he angled closer to the tree, hoping it might give him the tiniest chance of dodging an attack.
'A foolish idea,' He thought bitterly as the Demon loomed over him, its massive scythes and pincers already poised to strike. At this range, dodging was impossible.
Zachary tensed to dive sideways—attempting to dodge. A muffled crash echoed through the Barrow, followed by the rustle of countless leaves. Everything stopped.
The Echo had reached the Soul Devouring Tree. It was hacking into the trunk with its pincers!
The Carapace Demon snapped its head north, instincts screaming at it to punish the insolent creature that dared lay claw upon the sacred tree. But as the command to move pulsed through its mind, something else stirred beneath it: the presence of a Blasphemous being, an insult to reality itself. It was the Demon's right—its obligation—to purge such an existence.
Another crash rang out. Leaves shuddered. The Demon halted, trembling violently.
Zachary watched, breath caught in his chest, as delight spread across his face. The plan had worked. The Demon was trapped in conflict, torn between its instinct to destroy the Blasphemer—him—and its brainwashed mission to defend the Soul Devouring Tree.
A pincer Aggro attack!
Using the opening, Zachary darted farther south, circling wide so that the Echo attacked from the north while he pressed from the south, leaving the Carapace Demon caught between them on the western flank.
Relief surged through him at the sight of the paralyzed monstrosity, but he quickly forced it down. This hadn't been a gamble. Not entirely. He had spent every spare moment in the Forgotten Shore experimenting with his Attribute, testing how Awakened beasts and monsters reacted to it. He knew the way they abandoned safety and instinct, driven to annihilate him no matter the cost.
So how would an Awakened Demon—enslaved by the will of an Awakened Terror—respond? That was the question.
The only difference Zachary had ever observed with stronger creatures was range. The pull of his Attribute expanded the higher the rank of his foes. Even Awakened beasts had thrown themselves into a raging tide for the chance to end him.
But could that primal compulsion truly clash with the control of an Awakened Terror?
Zachary doubted it. He was only a Sleeper—an entire rank, and many classes, beneath the tree. He simply didn't have the presence to become a priority target for both.
And even if, for some reason, the Demon did prioritize him, Zachary had a plan B. The Echo's first strike had already bought him enough time to dive clear of the Demon's attack range. From there, he could simply retreat east, drawing the monster behind him.
With six hundred Soul Fragments in his Core and his body tempered by digested Soul Essence, his speed was more than considerable. All he had to do was outrun the Demon, play hide-and-seek in the coral labyrinth, and wait for nightfall. When the Dark Sea returned, its furious tide would swallow even an Awakened Terror. Not even such a creature could defy a Great Titan.
It was a far more dangerous fallback, so Zachary was profoundly grateful that the first plan had worked.
"What's the matter, little guy? I swear I taste better than any fruit that lump of wood gives you." Zachary taunted, maintaining the delicate balance—close enough for his [Blasphemer] Attribute to keep pulling, but far enough to avoid becoming the Demon's sole priority.
"Or is it that you can't eat without your master's permission? My, oh my, what a sad little existence. Don't you think?" He doubted the Demon understood his words, but they clearly had an effect.
The monstrosity spasmed grotesquely, torn between urges. It strained to lunge at the Echo, yet deep inside its instincts screamed for it to destroy the Blasphemous abomination before it. At the same time, it was compelled to protect the Soul Devouring Tree, that magnanimous tree whose fruits were so precious.
Zachary was just beginning to wonder if Nightmare Creatures could suffer aneurysms when he heard a second whistle coming from above. The girls had climbed the tree safely.
Now the rest was up to Nephis.
Zachary continued circling the Carapace Demon, reacting to every twitch and shift of its colossal body. If it drifted toward the Echo, he moved closer to pull it back. If it veered toward him, he signaled the Echo to strike the tree harder. And through it all, he noticed something: the Demon was growing restless.
It flailed its scythes erratically, slashing both toward Zachary and the Echo, only for its own pincers to intercept them with unnatural crunches. The sound was hideous—like bone splintering against bone. The Demon shrieked and whimpered, raking its gleaming armor with its own blades in a frenzy. Zachary couldn't help but compare it to a junkie suffering through withdrawal. But this time, the thought carried no trace of mockery. Instead, it came with a heavy wariness—and a faint, creeping anxiety.
The Demon was buckling under overwhelming pressure, torn between instinct and forced duty. But if this tension continued to mount, Zachary feared it would explode in his face.
Just as that dread was beginning to swell, he heard it—a third whistle from above. Relief washed over him, and with a wide, satisfied grin, Zachary whispered:
"Go full Michael Bay, Neph."
***
North of his position, Nephis darted across the branches, leaping lightly from one to the next. The crude bow was strapped to her back, and a makeshift bag of bone arrows thudded against her side. The frown that had weighed on her face for so long had vanished, replaced by something else entirely. She wasn't scowling anymore—she was thinking, deeply and deliberately, about Zachary's plan.
'I don't like it,' Nephis thought as she landed on another branch with nimble steps.
From their very first meeting, she had opposed Zachary taking the lead and putting himself at risk. Not because of goodwill, or because she feared for his safety. She was perfectly aware that she would sacrifice and burn anything if it meant reaching her goal.
Her resistance came from something else—from the unease of letting someone else shoulder the duty of her survival. Ever since her father's death, she had grown used to taking care of herself, wary of relying on others. Yet Zachary's Attribute gave him a convenient excuse to stand at the front. Even so, she could think of a dozen ways to maneuver herself back into that role.
'I know no one can survive in the Dream Realm alone, but that doesn't mean I should entrust my safety to anyone... And yet, here I am, following his plan.'
She landed on the northern side of the tree and glanced down. The Carapace Echo hammered its pincers against the bark, but the tree stood unharmed. She raised the bone whistle to her lips, sending out a sharp note to alert Zachary of her next move.
Still, her thoughts lingered.
'The truth is... if I can bear the weight of my goals, I'd rather carry it alone. I don't want to be like those ghouls, dragging others into my path.'
She tried to reassure herself, but an image intruded: Zachary's trembling hand gripping his sword on the cliffside, just before he drew the monster's attention. Even now, he stood below them, facing a Demon for their sake.
Maybe, just maybe... it wouldn't be so terrible to let someone else carry part of the burden.
Shaking her head, she ignited one of the bone arrows with her Dormant Ability and pulled the bowstring tight, aiming down at the Echo.
"Zachary would probably say something clever right now," Nephis murmured, searching her mind for a quip. Nothing came. With a defeated sigh, she released the arrow.
The burning arrow arced downward, a streak of fire against the gray sky, before slamming into the Echo. For days, they had hunted the centipede creatures, harvesting their flammable oil. Now, all of it was packed into the Echo's crude bombing vest!
Zachary felt it before he heard it—the surge of hot air that bent the salty breeze of the Ashen Barrow. Then came the blast. The oil ignited in an instant, air expanding violently into a thunderous explosion that rocked the northern side of the colossal tree.
The Demon snapped its head toward the smoke and fire, its carapace glinting under the shower of embers. For a moment, its instincts pushed it to turn toward Zachary. But with a low, guttural growl, it wheeled back toward the blast. The Terror's control had finally overpowered instinct.
Zachary wasted no time. No snark, no pause—just a sprint southward along the branch. He had no idea how long the distraction would last. His heart leapt when he finally spotted it: the rope, glowing faintly gold. With a smile tugging at his lips, he gave two sharp tugs. The rope tightened, pulling him rapidly upward.
He kept glancing down, expecting at any second to see the Demon charging back. But the seconds stretched, and still no sign. Relief hit him as he crested the branch at last.
"Fuu… that was easier than I thought," he said, landing before the girls. Their smiles were light, joking, warm.
Cassie steadied him, her expression lit with pure relief. Gratitude softened every line of her face. Nephis, however, wore no frown. Instead, a thoughtful silence lingered in her eyes. There would be a conversation later—once the Demon was dealt with.
'For that, we'll have to wait until nightfall,' Zachary thought, eyeing the remaining oil bags slung at their sides. 'The hardest part is done. Finally… we can follow the canon.'
Delight bubbled in his chest—until it froze. His gaze dropped to the base of the tree.
The Carapace Demon had stamped out the flames. Satisfied that the trunk was unharmed, it now prowled in their direction.
But up here, they had height. Safety. Distance enough to last until nightfall.
So then why?
{_^_}
Why was Danger Sense still screaming at him?
{_^_^_}
{_^_^_}