When Eldridge Tsukimono opened his eyes again, he was to find himself no longer in the comfort of his own bed. But not surprisingly so. He hadn't been there for some time. He'd been in Galaens for awhile. He'd been with his friends. But then something happened. There was darkness and confusion. There was the feeling of weight and heaviness. There was a familiar feeling of shadows and death. But it was nothing.

Everyone was okay.

Right?

They only knew of the safety of Galaens. They'd not a clue if Hillcrest was safe. There was no choice but to walk there. In the confusion of Galaens, there was no obtaining a horse; they had to go on foot. There was only two of them, Eld and one other. Etsu. She walked by his side. They'd been walking for awhile. It felt like hours. The trip from Galaens to Hillcrest was a daunting task. But they had to make sure everything was fine.

Despite the necessity of weaponry, only Etsu was armed. Her naginata was set within a makeshift sheath behind her back, leaving the blade several feet above her head. As the weapon itself was taller than she was, it was the only way to effectively carry it. But Eld didn't have a weapon. He'd never had a weapon. Beyond his own physical talents, his strength and his speed, his tact and his tactics, he was ordinary. Capable of defending himself, capable of fighting the extraordinary, but scarcely had he held a weapon in his life.

There was talk between them. Strange dialogue. Not at all familiar. Not at all remembered. Not at all experienced. Not at all of value.

Their lips may as well have moved without sound escaping them. Their expression may as well have told the stories themselves. But it was all to stop when they found the scythe. The simple farming scythe, larger than most farming scythes, set upon the ground, off to the side of the road between Galaens and Hillcrest.

Calling to them.

He was distracted; he knew it, and it bothered him as much as what was bothering him bothered him. He and Etsu talked but he paid no mind to what was said, instead constantly watching his surroundings. Was Hillcrest safe? He hoped so, and he intended to find out. But if it wasn't he didn't want to realize it too late.

A mystery appeared in the road before them; a lone scythe, laying in the dirt. Where did it come from? He saw no body or sign of struggle if it was used as a weapon. It was well maintained; if it wasn't a weapon, it's owner was unusually diligent in caring for the tool.

"Where did this come from?" he muttered, motioning Etsu to keep an eye out while he examined it. It was possible it was bait, some simple object to draw attention while a marauder moved into position. But Etsu was as observant as he was, perhaps more so--if someone were laying a trap, he had little doubt she'd spot them.

And so he bent down and grabbed the scythe...

They'd been in Galaens for some time. This was the first time going to Hillcrest in at least a week. Etsu hadn't gone back with Eld when he went to support the village after their bandit crisis, making this her first time there . . . ever, actually. She was unsure why it was so important to Eld, but decided to go with him nonetheless, if only so he wasn't trudging there all by himself. Maybe it was the mutual friend they had, visiting Hillcrest at the time--

But Etsu was certain he'd be fine on his own.

She didn't see anything wrong with the scythe. Didn't find any reason to doubt it. Yes, it could have been a ploy. What if the bandits that attacked Hillcrest and Galaens a few weeks ago were still around? What if they wanted revenge? They'd certainly every reason to look for revenge against Etsu, Eld, and their companions, but leaving a farming scythe out in the middle of nowhere as a ploy was just working too hard. It would've been strangely effective, but still working far too hard to get the jump on someone.

The azure haired girl almost instantly disregarded any chance of it. She kept watch; she always kept watch. She was the most observant of their whole lot. But she doubted any harm would come from this.

Yet . . . when Eld lifted it, something happened. Nothing for Etsu to see; no, she witnessed absolutely nothing on her end. Nothing out of the ordinary. Eld simply lifted the scythe up curiously--and then he stopped. He stopped moving. He frozen entirely. It was as if he'd completely stopped breathing. Initially, everything seemed fine. There was no reason for concern, but . . .

To Eld, nothing would seem fine. Nothing would seem ordinary. In a vague sense, he was aware of his surroundings, but in an equally as vague sense, he was paralyzed. Stopped entirely. Locked somewhere in his own mind. Locked behind a camera lens, a lens that was yet to take its glance . . .

Eld weighed the scythe in his hands. Perhaps it was a weapon, perhaps not--but holding it felt natural to him. He pounded the ground with the butt of it; it was sturdy too.

And then, before he even had time to gasp, he was somewhere far away. And endless expanse of white surrounded him, with no detail to be had. Were he not able to feel something solid under his feet, he wouldn't even be sure there was a floor.

Was it a trap after all? he wondered.

Sight was doing nothing for him, so he reached out with his other senses, attempting to hear or even smell anything unusual in the area. He was on the balls of his feet, ready to react in case danger presented itself.

A flash. A flash of white. That was all--and yet, it lasted for what may have seemed hours, but in a pause, a drawn out pause, it stuck.

But then, there was light. A different kind of light. Different kinds of light. Reds, oranges, blues--warms and cools, filling the expanse of the mind as if they'd all been experienced first hand. As if they were Eld's life. Eld's life on a path. Memories of that which never happened; of something beyond the here and the now.


The day was pleasant. The sun stood high. It was noon. Shadows cast were menial; minor, barely noticeable. Not a cloud hung in the sky. A bluebird chirped contently near a brick, loose from its home and laying still. Forever still. The bluebird sang in an uneven pitch. It could not hear the rustle of leaves, the calls of other birds, or even the sound of its--her--own song. She hopped up upon the rock. It once belonged to a hill borne structure, not quite on the highest hill, but close enough. It was a cache of sorts.

It'd been years. Years since anyone had lived in the village of Hillcrest. Dust coated every wall. Every roof. Every table, chair. Every skeleton.

The village was by no means in tact. Homes were in ruins, burned to the ground years ago. Skeletons clung to one another, holding each other close, many still locked in embrace, some still cowering. The dusty old village bore no life. Overgrowth tangled through every ruined structure; trees sprouted from homes, and the last structure still standing complete was ready to collapse.

The words outside of the house read "Hillcrest Clinic," owned and operated by "Rebbecca and Urikuse Tsukimono." It was there where the bluebird earlier found the most collection of skeletons, all holed up in one room, all clammered together, all groping for a safety that never came to them.

A flutter of wings lifted the bluebird from her stone. She drifted away from Hillcrest, away from the ruin; she turned around, following the path to a much denser populated town. A town where she might have a keeper, an owner, a human to feed and keep her safe. Warm. Comforted.

But the township of Galaens was no better. Passing glances through shattered windows left her with images of little more than skeletons. Some still clinging to weapons, to other skeletons, to money, to posts. To anything at all. Anything they once had to call their own. Anything that was important. It was the lonely ones that were the saddest. The ones huddled in the corner or under their beds. The skeletons, barely in tact, torn to pieces at times, alone. Some young. Some old. It simply didn't matter.

Days passed.

The bluebird continued her search. She sang brightly in every town she visited, down the roads, down the borders. She sought human contact. And yet, there was nothing. No man, woman, or child listened to her uneven song. She made through Algeroth with haste. She visited its cities, its towns, its villages. She witnessed only desolation. Old desolation. Desolation from years past. The fires were all gone. The blood was all dried up. All flaked away. Not a single body remained in tact. Only skeletons littered these cities.

She cycled through. South, into the jungles and forests of Cizok. They were overgrown. Every city she found. Overgrown. Burned. Cut down.

Juno. Corania. Sythinia. Prompt. All gone; all lost. Decayed. Destroyed. Even Darokin housed no life, only ancient bones.

The bluebird found nothing. This continent was the same as the last. Empty. Devoid of life--or so she thought with a sad song, until she flew what she once knew as a desert, years ago. It was all she'd left to check.

But there was no desert to be found. No sand, no heat. Grass. Fields. Flora. Fauna. Splendid moderation of warmth. Never an overgrowth; an environment so natural, yet so clean that it could be of no natural make. The bluebird oversaw it with a frightened song. And then, she found it.

The city in the midst of the plains. The only structures left within the former desert. They were home to no desolation, but the first life the bluebird had seen since the beginning of her journey.

She witnessed it all. The society. The commerce. How happy they all looked, in this vast and Edenic garden, so isolated within a world of desolation. They laughed. Children played in the streets. Strangers watched them, but with no evil eye; theirs were stares of guardianship. She witnessed so scarcely the thieves, murderers, rapists, and cheats; men and women that were all one in a thousand, it seemed. Notorious men and women. People who couldn't leave their safe place without being hunted. The bluebird witnessed the architects and the workers, the fair trades and the people who knew how to use only what they had available to them. And she witnessed the armored king. And she witnessed the weapon in his hands, as he looked over his city. A scythe. A wooden farming scythe.

The bluebird passed by the city with no further consideration. She continued her search.


Colors dissolved.

And yet, there could be more. A flash of light, a second flash, was so brief, but just as the first, was to feel so long--so drawn out. Until color formed again.


A bluebird stood calm in the midst of a dead world; a gray world; an uncaring world. Fog cycled through every arch and plain and mountain. Endless plains. No trees--no flora, no fauna. She was the only one of them to stand within its nigh ending confines. The fog touched the sky as well. It littered the world with it; not so thick to block out the existence of light, not so dark to blacken the world, but so present that a source of light was a myth. It could not be proven. Shadows were so menial that they could barely be traced. It was only in the presence of artificial light that they could see their shadows.

Their artificial shadows.

She'd seen a world beyond once before. That world as it stood now, in the week since her visit, was a populous one. Humanity, it was called. They listened to her song. Some appreciated it, some did not. Many ignored it. Continents and countries filled to the brim with people; villages, towns, and cities were so well established in some regions that they'd nothing but prosperity to boast.

Yet in the presence of prosperity, there was, too, corruption. In the presence of happiness, there was sadness. In love, there was hate.

Humanity confused her. It contradicted itself in every way. While one human being sought forgiveness, another sought revenge. They could agree on nothing. Wars were fought over the smallest transgressions. Political values, women, land, greed, and dominance. They fought over whims and conquered without whimsy. So many were in despair, yet so many were also content. They were a pitiable lot.

But for all those that thought they'd the worst to behold, those that looked death in the face and cowered in his presence, there was no true definition of despair and depravity.

It was only they, the unreal, that could claim such hopelessness.

The bluebird looked back on it all. The battles, the victories, the losses. The ever amounting losses. The ever growing death toll. The display of names appearing each day in the Hall, the great hall meant solely for the remembrance of their fallen comrades.

She thought back upon it all, and as she began her sad song, she watched forward-- ever forward, as the red haired man, trembling, stood at the gates of their unreal city. She, too, stood at the gate; upon the gate, singing her soft and sad song as the red haired man weakly thrust his shoulder in the tall wooden gates. They opened despite themselves, and he fell in, a mess of a man. But he continued forth. He breathed heavily, taking in gasps of air, choking on half of them, but refused to let this be his end.

He fought to stand, the man in the torn and tattered and bloodied white suit, using the only utility on his person to push himself up:

A scythe. A wooden farming scythe.


When Eld blinked again, for the first time in an insurmountable period of time, he'd behold something beyond a vivid daydream: Etsu Hikane standing before him, but not facing him. She faced away from him, naginata drawn, blade clashed against a set of claws bent upon sinking into her flesh. She strained, hesitated, and backed away--but never once allowed her back to show to the enemy or for the blade to draw away from its form.

The creature was one of an inky blackness; an oily form of impossible measures. Skin wrapped about its form like stretched leather, across every bone of a body seemingly devoid of fat or organs, only a vague hint of muscle. It was tall; frighteningly tall, but hunched over. Its arms were long enough to reach the ground. Its skull was long and its beady red eyes were focused upon Etsu. Jagged teeth lined its wide jaw, opening and shutting as if to make noise, but in lack of a voice box, released only a hollow hiss.

But it wasn't the only one. A second was closing in on Eld just as well . . .

As much as he might like to recant and rethink the daydream, there was little time for it. If he did not act quickly, he would find himself on the crushing end of the beast's claws.

A dream? A vision? It seemed so long, and yet is also seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. There was so much there, too much, it didn't make any sense; he needed time, time to think on it, figure out what it was...

...but time was something he did not have. He felt like he just woke from a dream, no, a nightmare. He gasped as air finally filled his lungs again, feeling the cold sweat which drenched his body.

And her saw her, naginata drawn, and saw it. It was huge, bigger than either of them, dark and foreboding, like a shadow some to life. He had no time to think, only react; Etsu was fighting one, and that was all he needed to know to strike.

From frozen in place to a blur of motion. He turned and lashed out with the scythe, which felt comfortable in his hands--a natural extension of himself. A quick step forward, lashing down with an overhead strike to the creature's skull, then a backstep, pulling the blade out the front of its face, a step which also put him back to back with Etsu.

"What's going on?" he asked breathlessly. The vision, hallucination, dream, whatever it was would have to wait for now.

Eld nicked the beast in the skull, cut down its face and left a huge gash down its oily carapace. It stumbled several steps, but was not defeated--nor did it seem at all hurt by the blow. A much more lethal strike would be required to cut it down, as the creature likely could not feel pain.

Their carapaces, almost exact copies of the other, had all the looks of frail brutality, but when Etsu took a stab at her foe's spine, she learned the difficult way that they had their strengths beyond reach: their backs were hard as metal. Slicing them in two was out of the question, though just by the looks of them, it should have been the easiest and most obvious solution. It seemed evolution was playing its hand against Etsu and Eld.

"I do not know," replied Etsu, strained as she was.

She stepped forward to thrust and push the beast as far from her as she could, a successful venture in some rights. It stumbled back several steps, giving her room to breath, but she was back to back with Eld again in less than a second. They hadn't much room to work with at all.

"Are there more?" she asked abruptly. Though the most observant of their group, she was far from perfect; focusing on one very particular thing at a time cut her broad observations down significantly. Fearing a worst possible scenario, she felt it necessary to discern if the end was nigh or not.

Unfortunately, Eld was facing the same problem Etsu was; concentrating as he was on his own foe, he couldn't spare more than a cursory glance around them. No other enemies immediately caught his eye, but it was possible more remained hidden. Creatures like these could easily hide in the shadows of the forest, just off the road.

"At least one," he replied wryly. And that would have to do until one of them could get enough breathing room to really look.

Slashing them wasn't working terribly well; their skin was too thick. But slashing wasn't something he was used to doing anyway. He stepped forward, aiming for what would appear to be a high horizontal strike, right at head level--easily ducked under of the creature had even the barest amount of agility.

And that was exactly what he was hoping for; rather than strike, he'd twirl the scythe and suddenly plant it pole-first into the ground, vaulting himself into the air for a snap kick at the creature's (hopefully) lowered chin. If he couldn't cut it open easily, perhaps he could break its neck.

So that made two, then . . .

Two on two. It seemed fair enough. Etsu took a step forward to bash the creature before her once more, using the range she had over on it to stab at its chest and throw it back once more. She was beginning to see their lack of tactical intelligence. This one--it got up, it started for her, she knocked it down, and it repeated. It didn't learn from the attack. It didn't try to dodge or block. It simply got back up, and started for her in the same way that it had before. This could easily be used to their advantage.

It seemed both Eld and Etsu used this advantage simultaneously. Eld sunk his newfound weapon into the side of the creature's skull, whilst Etsu took a strong step forward and stabbed with her quarter staff, embedding the blade into the creature's face.

(Of course, in Eld's case, he was lucky: his original goal would not have worked. Their necks, as part of their spines, were nearly unbreakable.)

The creatures let out a disappointed his almost simultaneously, as their bodies quickly evaporated: skin, muscle, organs, and bones, all turning into a black mist at once, lingering for only a second, and lifting up for the already blackened sky.

Eld was slightly surprised that the creature didn't duck under his swing like he intended--he figured even if it was of animal intelligence it would avoid something like that. But instead of kicking it he simply ended up stabbing it in the head, causing the creature to fade into black mist and evaporate into the sky. Presumably, it was dead.

Guess I overestimated it, he conceded as he turned to see Etsu had finished hers off as well. "Are you alright?" he asked with concern, at the same time keeping an eye out in case more enemies appeared. She hadn't heard her get hit, but it was possible she got injured while he was...whatever it was that happened. Which would have made him feel a bit guilty.

Etsu released a deep sigh. She was fine, but she didn't expect to be doing so much so quick. It was like she'd just gone from sleeping to running a marathon. Part of her wanted to just die. The other part was far too stubborn to do anything like that. The whole time so far, she'd been off her guard--and then this. She hoped to all she knew was holy and right that these were just Algerothian predators, and they'd seen the last of them--though this was the first time she'd seen them before in general.

But not Eld. He'd seen these all before. But they were different than what he knew. Vaguely similar, but his experiences with them were vastly out of date.

She couldn't hope to the gods, though. They were too cruel to allow anything good to happen to them. They'd have just sent more of these things their way.

She nodded to Eld. She was fine. Just . . . out of breath. She was fairly nervous, and already feeling paranoid about this journey. "Hai. But--we need hurry. Get Remmy-kun and go home . . ."

Certainly Eld was thinking the same thing, though . . .

There was a brief moment where Eld was struck by the notion that there was something off about these creatures, that they weren't how they were supposed to be. But the fact of the matter was that he'd never seen anything like them, and had no idea if they were supposed to be like that or not. If they were native to Algeroth, however, he had to give the locals credit for they must have been tougher than they looked.

"Yeah. Though, I'm not too worried about him." It was difficult to imagine even those shadow creatures being more than a nuisance for Remmy; he was easily the strongest of their group.

He waited a few moments for Etsu to catch her breath before continuing down the road, bringing the scythe with him without even thinking about it.

Etsu started walking as soon as she was ready. It didn't take long. She just needed to catch her breath. Unfortunately, she wasn't feeling very energized; Etsu and Eld had been walking over half the journey from Galaens to Hillcrest. It wasn't too much further now, but the walk itself had taken its toll on her. Especially considering how worn out she'd been before, when they woke up in the streets of Galaens, physically fine, but worn to the bone. Eld seemed to be the only one that was feeling energetic at all.

They were stalled shortly after they made several feet of progress. Etsu stopped first, glanced to her right, glanced to her left, and grabbed Eld by the shoulder to stop him from going any further. She caught the figures first. Dark figures. They were like blights upon reality; deep shadows in the trees, impossible to see at this time of night, but there. Waiting. Stalking.

Etsu, however, could see them. Not their literal forms, but the very fact that they existed. She could see the deep shadows in the trees.

The creatures bounded from the confines of the forest in a dozen: twelve small shadow beasts, surrounding the two on each side. These ones were much shorter than the previous two encountered by Eld and Etsu. They came up roughly to Etsu's waist, but made themselves appear shorter by hunching over, to stand and run on threes: one arm and two legs. Their other arm seemed to be their primary means of attack. They'd long, hard spines, likely as difficult to break as the last enemies', longer skulls, and smaller teeth. One by itself would have been laughable, but the danger of their existence came from sheer numbers.

They didn't attack at first, just watched and waited . . .

Etsu, naturally, noticed the presences before he did, but it wasn't long after she saw them that he caught on even without her help. She rarely made any pointless movements or gestures--for her to even stop in the first place meant she noticed something.

They were similar to the creatures from before, but smaller--and unfortunately more numerous. This was going to be much more difficult to deal with if they attacked.

Eld frowned. The problem was that if; attacking first would give them the distinct advantage, but if they didn't attack him at all that would be better yet. They were like the earlier creatures, but different enough that they could have different instincts, different priorities.

For the time being he merely moved slightly so he was back to back with Etsu again; there they could cover each other a little bit with minimal risk of hurting each other. If he attacked there was a good chance the remaining would immediately jump them before they recovered, so ultimately he decided it was a better idea to wait and react in this case.

Etsu didn't wait like Eld did. Once they were back to back and she'd watched the creatures for a moment, long enough to figure that they weren't going to attack just yet, Etsu took the initiative. She took a sharp step forward, naginata out. She stabbed forward into the creature closest to her front; thrusting the blade of her weapon into the creature's skull and sending the others reeling. They leaped back in unison--as did the three before Eld.

They seemed to recognize the loss of their fellow, and instantly switched to a particular tactic: they cautiously spread to fill the gap lost by their fellow, and began to all walk to the right and forward--circling, spiraling towards them, but at a slow, cautious, and thoughtful pace.

There was a chance that these creatures had a higher level of thought of some sort. Of some degree. Of some number. Or perhaps it was instinct.

The instincts of pack hunters.

Etsu stepped back, pressing her back to Eld's again. She might have made a mistake, not trying to take them all out at once, but no matter. They'd just have to make do . . .