Tread Lightly – Among Monsters And Men

Together, we head west for a few more hours until the sun is bright overhead. The time when Vernon’s Sigil is most powerful. It is at that time we take a break, and Virgil does as he said he would. We found a clear part of the dunes where you can see in every direction and he just lied down in the middle of our small camp. Shortly after pulling a piece of black cloth over his eyes, snores emerge from him.

Vernon laughs at his older brother before playing with the artifact from the Short Horned Snake in his hand. Curious as to why he’s so insistent on using it, I ask him.

“Why are you so persistent when it comes to artifacts? Like you almost risked our lives just to try it out?”

The younger brother of the two looks at me then raises the horn a bit to give me a good look at it while he speaks.

“It’s because they’re so interesting. The ways that a Sigil can become something different despite having the same foundation. It’s easiest to see within artifacts as they distort the Sigil, but that type of thing can be found in other ways and I’d be just as insistent to see them. I don’t know why, but they just make me excited to use and find. And because of how hard they are to destroy, naming one is like leaving your mark on the world. One that will outlive you.”

Huh. I didn’t think of it like that. So it’s passion and discovery that fuels him. Another thought strikes me though on leaving your mark on the world.

“Wouldn’t leaving behind an artifact be a bigger way to put something on the earth that will outlive you?”

Vernon nods but cringes as if he dislikes the idea.

“You’re right, but I don’t ever want to die in such a way that I make an artifact. Most are painful and slow, or terribly depressing. Like that snake’s death. I mean we just slowly killed it once Law’s Light had it frozen.”

“Yeah, that sounds quite horrific. On a brighter note, though, how close do you think we are to the break? I’m not too good with geography.”

Vernon thinks for a second while he looks out westward. Then, he just shrugs his shoulders.

“I dunno. I’ve only ever experienced one break and it was magnitudes smaller than this one, so I have no clue how fast it will be moving. Virgil would be a better person to ask, but who knows for sure until we find it, right? I mean that’s why you were sent out here.”

I nod in agreement. We’ll just have to see where it is ourselves. No point in random guessing. Vernon and I talk for a few more minutes until a hat is thrown and hits Vernon in the face with blazing speed. The man falls backward and into the dust. I quickly glance to my right and see Virgil with an outstretched hand when he should instead be sleeping. He only says two words before dropping his arm.

“Shut up.”

We both listen and from then on just play rock paper scissors or draw in the sand. This silence lasts for about two hours, ending only when Virgil sits up from his noon rest. The second he does, Vernon stands with the horn and prepares to blow it. I just sit back and let him while Virgil puts his head in his hands.

“Go ahead, dumbass.”

Vernon immediately goes ahead with permission and releases a long bellow from the horn aiming it upwards. The roar from the horn is loud and vibrative. It enters my body and makes me shake a tad as a bit of energy fills me. I feel a small boost of motivation and drive permeate through me.

Vernon shakes his hands into the air happily after he finishes blowing it completely. Then he looks at us and opens his mouth to talk, but no sound exits his wide-open and moving lips. I can even see his chest move as he tries to yell and air leaves him in huge quantities. Virgil clears the confusion by clearing his throat and taking the horn from Vernon.

“It seems as though the horn gives courage, motivation, and a little bit of energy to those who hear it, but mutes whoever blows it, likely temporarily. Not a bad negative for how useful it could be for an army or large group.”

Vernon shakes his hands at us emphatically while trying to speak, but Virgil basically just ignores him and talks to me.

“He should know I can’t understand anything he’s trying to communicate, Cutting Words makes it so I can only understand spoken words while I hold it. But anyway, do you hear that, Wyatt?”

I raise my ears and try to listen because of his question, but I hear nothing except for the wind, swirling dust, and Vernon’s boots kicking the ground. Looking around for danger, I still see nothing, but Virgil chuckles and grabs his stuff off the ground. What he says next, though, makes me lower my vigil with a laugh.

“I haven’t had a moment so peaceful in quite a while. Maybe it would be better if the mute was permanent. You can name the horn once your voice returns, Vernon.”

Vernon throws a rock at Virgil that he dodges swiftly. It’s hard to hit a Rogue, I imagine swiftness comes with their Sigils. Then, we together begin our journey west toward the break as Virgil stops poking fun at Vernon.

An hour or so after we depart our short camp, we begin to move much faster as Vernon uses a skill made from Ether to cover our bodies with a thin film of light. He leaves a simple explanation of its usage while we run.

“I can only use this during the day, but it increases speed, endurance, and physical toughness. I call it Sunscreen. And I’m naming the horn Boa Bugle. It has a passive drain on the air in your lungs as well, making you breathe much more often, kinda feels like a boa constrictor.”

A sigh emanates from Virgil as we run. I don’t join him though, that name for his skill isn’t bad at all and neither is the horn’s. I think it fits quite well. We quickly cease further discussion after this to focus on movement and speed despite Vernon’s attempts to keep using the horn to test it.

We travel a great distance before taking a break after sundown. During the sprint westward, we only came across a few monsters of the 1st Sigil or lower. They were easy work to kill and left Virgil and Vernon some more resources to sell when they make it back. No new artifacts were created from the dead monsters, though.

It is at this point that we enter the namesake for the Bondunes. That I return to the giant graveyard of death Goliaths. Just now reaching it now makes me realize just how far I ran in a single day. Really far. It leaves me impressed as I sit and watch Vernon lie down to go to rest. Virgil does the opposite, the Nightowl he once was. He climbs atop a giant bone rock to watch out for us.

Tiredness fills my eyes now that the dark envelopes the land once more. A long time has passed since I last slept and I feel the need for it grinding me down. Just before I relent and lay down, though, a voice emerges from behind me and a trail of smoke enters my vision. I twist around so fast I can feel my body pop and crack from the strain.

“I see you made it out alive. Quite impressive even for a cockroach like yourself.”

My eyes go wide and my hands go up in defense as I see the figure that sits on a rock smoking a cigar. A dark bandana with clouds covers his neck like the last time I saw him and his face looks slightly different than before like an illusion is clouding it, or perhaps the first time I saw him was one, but the voice and mocking demeanor are unforgettable.

Alexos is before me once more.

I try not to immediately attack, careful not to antagonize the walking calamity, but I cannot help myself as I whisper-shout at him.

“What are you doing here?!”

The second I do, though, I regret it as I hear Virgil yell down from the rock he’s on in worry.

“You good, Wyatt?”

I take a second to answer as I look Alexos dead in the eyes and I see his lips creep into that hateful smile he always wears. Then, a straight and already bloody dagger appears in his right hand, the one not holding the cigar. He threatens me with the dagger.

“Best you be on good behavior. Or, I’ll make you kill your new friends. Tell him it’s fine.”

As I go to yell up to Virgil, the words of Alexos catch in my mind. Why isn’t he just making Virgil see his own phantoms to control him? He Alexos tired or something? I look closer at the Phantom Pain and see some dark circles around his eyes. He is tired! But how? Who could exhaust this man?

Worryingly closer this time, Virgil yells again and breaks my investigation into Alexos midway.

“Wyatt!?”

I answer as if everything is okay. I can’t risk his life just on a hunch of Alexos being weaker. The man killed Edmund without breaking a sweat. I loathe imagining what he’d do to Virgil or Vernon.

“It’s fine, Virgil. I’m just talking to myself!”

Virgil replies with relief in his voice, then I hear his footsteps atop the rock slowly grow quiet as he moves around again.

“See how hard was that? We can just have a nice talk. I’ll answer your question if you answer mine. Who put that Deadman’s Switch on you?”

I grind my teeth just listening to the man talk, but I don’t have much choice. People will die if I don’t keep his interest until he decides to leave. This is ten times harder than fighting the Short Horned Serpent. While looking at him full of hate, I explain my situation while being careful to be quiet enough so Virgil doesn’t hear. How I’ve been sent here to find the break and report back.

“Little Johnny, aye? I remember meeting him back when he was a 3rd or 4th. I don’t quite remember which. It’s been quite a while. I’ve been meaning to catch up with him. Some advice for you, though, free of charge, best for you if you get away from here any way you can. If it was a miracle you survived through your Ether situation, an angel would have to fall to save you this time.”

The way he mentions Johnny makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable like he’s talking about a man who’s already dead. And his advice is even more worrisome than his comment on Johnny. He says I was lucky to survive, but was it not his fault? And how does he know that the break is so dangerous? I ask him my question once more while he pauses his talking and takes a puff from his cigar.

“Why are you here Alexos?”

He takes a long drag when my voice softly reaches him and responds while smoke exits him. The smoke that exits him shifts and shimmers in shape and volume until it resembles a scene. A depiction of cloud that shows a horde of monsters that is miles long, the dunes beneath them so covered that sand flies in the air near their feet.

Is that the break? Is Alexos moving with it? Oh fuck, we’re so dead. No, maybe not. He’s here with me right now after all. After all the smoke exits him, Alexos explains what he created.

“I’m just following along with an interesting forecast. I can’t tell you anymore, but I’m here now because I’m bored. And you’re interesting. Like that palm that’s been Artificed onto you. How’d that one happen?”

I answer his question while ignoring the feelings of loss.

“A friend did it to save my life.”

Alexos nods sagely as if he expected that answer.

“Sounds about right. Artifiction only happens for three reasons, a mad reach for power, a sick method of torture or experimentation, or a desperate gamble for life. How long ago was it?”

I don’t answer his question but respond with my own.

“I thought it was my turn to ask?”

He smiles wide and nods. His response makes me hate him even more than I already did, which I thought was impossible.

“It was. Now it’s not. So how long ago did you get that thing on your wrist? A few hours? A day? I want to know the timeframe of you losing your mind.”

“It’s been about four or five days, I think.”

The face he makes when I tell him that dissipates for just a little bit of the anger he’s building up within me. He looks astonished and looks me up and down.

“I’ll be damned, cockroach. You really know how to survive. You might actually stand a chance to survive the next week or so.”

The words from him only continue to grow more ominous. I use the question that he is granting me for some reason to ask for clarification.

“What do you mean? What’s going to happen in a week?”

Alexos spreads his arms out slightly and gives me a cryptic reply. One that is still clear despite his attempt to not explicitly say it.

“A storm is coming. I’m sure you can smell the rain.”

His unwillingness to answer questions and the vague feeling of exhaustion emanating from him build suspicion within me. What is going on with Alexos? Why is he truly here? Surely he’s not here just to talk. But there has been one thing from this, I know that the break is close. Very close. Close enough for me to “smell the rain” as he put it.

I wait for a little bit for him to ask another question, but he doesn’t. So, for several minutes we just sit in silence as he finishes his cigar. I don’t end the silence myself, as I am careful not to provoke him. Once of him killing someone I care about is enough. But when he is done with his smoke, he stands off of the rock he was sitting on and stretches out his arms.

“Thanks, Wyatt. I needed this. Just a little bit of calm before the rainfall.”

Then, the only man alive who truly knows who I am stands and begins to walk away westward. He does leave me with some more cryptic words with a backward wave as he begins to fade, his illusions appearing for the first time.

“We all have leashes, Wyatt. No matter how many we remove, there is always more. But I do recommend you get rid of the one on you as soon as possible. Deadmen don’t live very long. Oh, and this goes without saying, leave our meeting to yourself. You remember what happened the last time, no?”

The second he fades, a rush of questions enters my mind as my heartbeat slows back to a normal pace. Why is he talking about leashes? Does he know about my Sigil? No, he’s talking about the Deadman Switch. But why was he even here? Surely not for relaxation despite his claim. It’s something else.

It feels like he was here to warn me. He tried to do so multiple times but cryptically. As if he couldn’t say the exact reason. But why couldn’t he? And why would he even want to? He’s an odd and unpredictable man, but even this is way out of expectations for him. I thought he’d show up just to remove me from my companions.

But no, he came here with an odd attempt to help. I think? The whole interaction was so weird, though. He kept speaking of rain, forecast, and storms. Is that a hint? Why would he even give a hint and not just say his thoughts?

Maybe… Maybe he can’t say his thoughts. He mentioned leashes. What if he also meant his own leash? He used to be an academic, right? So, this cryptic double layer fits him, even disregarding his usual facade of illusions.

But what could put him, a deadly Outlaw on a leash? He also looked a little tired as if he’s been using a lot of Ether lately. A man capable of killing Edmund and setting me on a path against the Hunters by framing me is not someone easily controlled. So, who is doing it?

Another Outlaw? No. Probably not. I’d be hard-pressed to believe another Outlaw put him under his boot. And it’s definitely not a monster. They’re too dumb to outsmart and catch a man like Alexos. So what could it be?

I ponder for a few more minutes before a recent conversation comes to mind.

“We almost always are weaker than a beast of a similar Sigil. The only way to overcome it is with caution, planning, and teamwork. Few exceptions exist to this rule. And even fewer that can stand up to demons.”

A demon. That’s got to be what put the Phantom Pain on a leash. Only a creature of inhuman power and otherworldly cunning could put that madman on a leash. But how? And why? So many questions remain. But one is answered with the hints he gave me.

He was here to tell me a demon is coming with the break.

And Alexos is right, I can smell the “rain”. Not just that, but I can see signs of it far, far in the distance. Thunderclouds. Dark, ominous things that shift and undulate miles and miles away, but are still present. I stare at the clouds for quite a while in grim silence.

 

The coming storm…