207. An All-Day-Nighter

  To fuse with one’s Oathborn wasn’t just an apparent contradiction. It was also a deadly risk: to present oneself as a singular target, both for smiting and for the judgment that followed.

  Serac: [176!]

  Mini-VOIDLINGs: [59!], [59!]

  Gladiolus: [319!], [551!], [1,102!] -> [1,972!]

  Here knelt Gladiolus aft’Branagh. He who took on that risk knowingly and gladly. Drew power from it. Elevated himself beyond the shackles of Night and the rules of the larger Realm. Put all of himself on the line, consequences be damned, because that was the truest and freest way for him to be.

  Did he do it alone? Or did he, as Serac herself had nearly stumbled into earlier, been contacted by a higher power—a god behind the curtain?

  The questions died with Gladiolus, then extinguished into Souldust. Permanently. In the end, he was neither more man nor more tiger. He was, and always had been, equally both.

  [GREATER ABERRANT SMITED]

  [Waystation Privilege awarded. Current charge: 1]

  [61,239 ?]

  The smite, shared between six Wayfarers across two separate dimensions, yielded a predictably diluted haul. Yet ho-hum disappointment soon turned to pleasant surprise, to then settle as burning curiosity.

  [EXALTED FEAT accomplished: Smite a target from both sides of the circadian cycle.]

  [86,400 ?]

  Another [Exalted Feat]! Serac had only learned about them toDay (Or was it yesterDay? So hard to keep track…), yet she’d somehow tripped into her second one already. Evidently, whoever in charge of Tidereign’s portion of Pathsight was a little more conscientious about their work than their Narakite and Pretjordian counterparts.

  As happily as Serac accepted the extra reward, she couldn’t help but wonder at its implications. The fact this [Exalted Feat] even exists means someone at some point expected a Wayfarer to cross the Day-Night divide. Which again flies in the face of what the locals would have me believe. Just what happened with this Realm that its people are forced to live against their nature?

  Yet such grand questions of the cosmos were best saved for another occasion. Preferably one unhurried by a time limit.

  [TIDEWATCH: You now have 30 seconds to rebind your Breachspawn.]

  So, an [Exalted Feat] doesn’t exempt me from the Realm gimmick, huh? Predictable but no less disappointing. Serac rose to her one good foot to give her stump a well-deserved break. She then turned to face her Breachspawn(s).

  VOIDLING remained in its quarter-sized [Split Hair] form. Both mini-LINGs ‘looked up’ to meet Serac’s gaze, though the only features to discernibly shift were the half-Circlets on their foreheads. They each struck a neutral, non-aggressive pose, polemace straightened by their sides. Yet their shared label unambiguously marked them out as an enemy for Serac to smite.

  [Designation: VOIDLING]

  [Aberrant Race: Breachspawn]

  [Aberrant Class: Field Boss]

  “Sorry, fellas,” Serac murmured, and was startled to hear the ‘change’ to her voice. As clear an indication as any that she was no longer one with the two halves of her soul. “It feels wrong, but I guess I kinda have to do this. I’m not ready to give up being a Wayfarer—give up being me.”

  Even as Serac apologized, she weighed her options. The quarter-VOIDLINGs had two separate Health bars, both as flimsy as the squishiest mobs from Naraka. One or two bullets each should do it, but she didn’t expect the job to be easy (or pleasant!). Her grip on REVOLVER tightened, along with the heavy ache in her chest.

  That was when the mini-LINGs exchanged a look between themselves. Simultaneously, they gave exaggerated shrugs of the shoulders, along with dramatic shakes of the head. No words issued, nor did another’s voice echo inside Serac’s mind. But the meaning behind the gesture(s) couldn’t be clearer: what are we going to do about this one?

  Faster than Serac could react, the VOIDLINGs turned and swung their polemaces. At each other. The mirrored strikes met in the middle with a loud, crisp ‘clang!’, emitting white-hot sparks as they did. Then both macemen leaned in and breathed on the sparks. Fanning the flames, as it were.

  [Breachspawn Technique: ASH TO ASH]

  Splash of ink to represent fire. They were the ‘shadow-flames’ used to crowd-control DLEE and ORD in the last encounter. This time, however, they only served to hide the macemen behind a veil of jumping shadows. Then, as the technique resolved—as the flames burned down to ephemeral cinders—both mini-LINGs disappeared without a trace. As if they too had been nothing but the stuff of dreams and nightmares.

  [GREATER ABERRANT SMITED]

  [Waystation Privilege awarded. Current charge: 2]

  [126,128 ?]

  [TIDEWATCH: You have rebound your Breachspawn. Your Oathborn has been restored.]

  [WARNING: Frenzy Imminent]

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  [TIDEWATCH: You now have 3 hours and 27 minutes to affirm your OATH.]

  What… what just happened? Dumbfounded and alone, Serac expected no answer. She got one anyway but couldn’t be sure if she only imagined it. For it came in the form of a fading echo. A maniacal cackle, wordless yet expressing in no uncertain terms: we haven’t seen the last of each other.

  Serac didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In fact, she didn’t know what to feel about any of this.

  [Oaths], breaches, letters, killers, Templars, doctors, shadows, light, deer, cat, Day, Night, worlds, souls. Sooo much had happened, seemingly at once yet also in an endless, painfully drawn-out string. She really needed to find a place to just sit down and sort through everything. Speaking of sitting down…

  Serac suddenly lost her balance, her one intact knee finally giving way under the weight of, well, everything. A 90-hour-plus marathon of Night-Day-Night. And all without a single wink of sleep!! It was a wonder she could stand at all. Welp, time for another faceplant, and no VOIDLING this time to share the dam—

  “Whoa there, Serac!” Oriole ere’Quinlan’s rather childlike voice. The tabbycat interceded just in time to catch her fall. Having finally come into contact with a Tiryaga, Serac was taken aback by just how warm and fluffy they were! “Are you alright? We—we better have someone take a look at your leg. Let’s get you to a doc…”

  Oriole trailed off, looking a little pale in the face himself. Serac thought she understood why, and wanted to say something of comfort. But her jaws had frozen shut, and her head had become a lead weight.

  “No need.”

  A second voice. Raspy. Familiar. The croak of a frog woman!

  Renna! Does that mean Zacko’s here, too? Serac wanted to holler, to scream, to jump for joy. Needless to say, she was in no state to do any of that. All she could do was lean against Oriole’s fluffy warmth and listen with all her fading might, as friends new and old gathered to her aid.

  “Yeah, I’m surprised you don’t know that, Brain Cell.” A sardonic male voice. Invoking the strange nickname for Oriole that had yet to click for Serac. “It’s an acute injury, so reconstitution is the quickest and surest fix. Same for my arm. Isn’t that right, Bubblegum?”

  “Correct,” Renna agreed. “Although, one look at the patient tells me she’s in no state to meditate. Must be an adverse effect of staying awake for three continuous cycles. Oriole, if you could lay her down, I’ll take it from here.”

  Serac’s head buzzed incessantly as her body changed position, now lying flat on a hard floor. She’d lost her ability to speak or think with any degree of coherence. But she could still hear and see, which was how she took in Renna’s familiar pink face. In her mind, she broke into a wide, unfocused grin. In reality, her face remained a catatonic mask.

  The first thing Renna did as she ‘took it from here’ was fiddle with Serac’s belt to unclip [Chef’s Best Friend]. She then handed the shaker off to someone behind Serac, who let out a performative sigh before receiving it.

  [Trinket unequipped: CHEF’S BEST FRIEND]

  [SYNTHESIS disabled]

  [Satiety: 3/143 -> null]

  Oh, Serac mused dully to herself. That was such a close call, and I didn’t even realize.

  The next thing Renna did was fiddle with her own bandolier—OYSTER—to produce a vial of milky-white liquid. In Serac’s mind, her eyes bulged in recognition and alarm. In reality too, her concern must’ve shone through somehow, because Renna hastened to address it.

  “Yes, this is [Pearl of SERENITY]. But don’t worry, I’ve since modified the formula to be less… lethal. Right now, it should ease your pain and force you into sleep. I suppose it’s not dissimilar to how Gladiolus anesthetizes—correction, anesthetized—his patients. Will you accept the treatment?”

  Was that meant to be reassuring?? When (if) Serac woke up, she’d need to give Renna some pointers on bedside manners. For now, however, she could only lie still as the frog woman propped up her head and tipped [Serenity] into her mouth. Which, apparently, was good enough for Pathsight to count as a ‘yes’.

  [TIDEWATCH: Your OATH has been affirmed.]

  “Oh, I nearly forgot,” Renna spoke again, even as she continued to medicate her patient. “This is very important, Serac, so listen to me carefully. With the authority invested in me as the surgeon’s assistant, I hereby invite you to shelter in the Duskpool Infirmary. Rest easy beneath these roofs, moored to the safety of hearth and community.”

  At first, Serac wanted to frown in confusion. But realization quickly dawned, which then prompted her to nod in eager acceptance. In reality, she did neither, reduced as she was to a stationary receptacle for [Serenity].

  The thing had a surprisingly sweet taste to it, but… not in a good way. The tropical kiss of a chilled mai tai this certainly wasn’t. [Serenity] felt more like treacle, spreading and coating Serac’s throat with its cloying sweetness. She wanted very much to be done with it already, and just as soon as she had that thought, she was gone. Lost to both halves of an incomplete world.

  ***

  The tangible. The ever-present. And the unseen spaces in between.

  Serac wasn’t in the Interstitium, even though the—uh, place?—looked and felt a lot like it. Clouds of souls-in-transit—fading memories and ever-churning intents—swept past as she waded through the viscous medium. Like swimming in treacle that had somehow turned milky-white.

  She knew she wasn’t in the Interstitium, not as a matter of fact, but by simple logic. She hadn’t ‘died’, so she couldn’t be transiting between lives. Which meant this had to be a… dream.

  Yup. That sounded right. A funky dream under the effects of anesthesia. If only she could’ve dreamt of something a little more exciting than this placeless place between places.

  She tried to check over herself. See what she might look like in the dream world. Maybe she got her leg back already? But no dice. She herself was merely a cloud of used-to-be-something and may-be-something-again-soon, like everything else around her. Nor did missing a leg mean anything here, when she could simply propel herself forward by force of will.

  Forward… to where? Where exactly was she in such a hurry to get to? She didn’t know, nor did she much care that she didn’t know. For now, she was content to keep moving. A clump of maybe-something that moved against the flow of the universe.

  That was, until she saw him.

  A humanoid figure. Cinnabar skin, ash-gray hair, and onyx horns. The Rakshasa man had his back turned to her as he sat hugging his knees. Something definitely solid amidst clouds of could-be-nothings.

  Was he what Serac had been swimming toward? Somehow, it didn’t seem like the correct answer. Or maybe it was, and it only looked wrong the moment she laid eyes on it. Whatever the case might be, she swam on, aiming toward the back of the lone Rakshasa man. He wasn’t that far. It should take her no time to reach him.

  Only… she couldn’t. No matter how hard she pushed and how far she swam, she couldn’t close the distance between them. If anything, the man’s figure shrank. Farther and farther away. Until, in a desperate bid, Serac reached out with her armless arm and shouted with a voiceless voice.

  A name. A nameless name. A name long forgotten yet etched indelibly into her soul. Hers, hers alone, and belonging to no other.

  The man heard her. He twitched, as if making to turn around. But just as he did, Serac realized. Fully and absolutely.

  No. This is wrong. This isn’t the answer I’m looking for.

  She forced herself awake. Just in time. Mere Ksanas before the answer could forever trap her in its false finality.

  11-chapter-long boss fight done and dusted ??, I'm ready to call this a "break" in the story. As always, I'd much appreciate written reviews, ratings, follows/favorites, word-of-mouth, etc. If you really like what you've read so far, please consider . Also, . Thanks for your support!

  STAT SHEETS: