Daniel awoke in the library, the scene unchanged except the absence of Svel. He shoved his belongings into his bag, including the rib he didnât dare to put around his neck anymore, suddenly unable to tolerate a further minute in the depths of the basement.
His scars were silent, Svelâs absence clear not just in physicality, but in mental presence. Wherever she was, she had ceased the tugging of his strings.
That was a relief, until he stood in front of the hallway needed to exit the library. He closed his fist around the scars, determined to not need her, determined to get through his fears himself.
He shut his eyes and made a mad dash down the hall, running like a child from the monster under his bed. He crashed into the stairs, his leading shin cracking against a step and promising a bruise tomorrow. But he had made it, and his reward was a shaky ascent up the spiral staircase to his room.
An aching body from Specter's training made the climb take longer than it should, but the cost of removing the pain had become clear, if he was even able to activate her healing flesh anymore. He clung to the railing more than he had in the past, and was relieved when he finally made it back to his tiny room.
He paid for another day of the room, grinding the token into a machine he couldnât see or understand, then fell on to the bed.
There were more hours in the day to use, he knew that. The sun had vanished from the sky, but evening hours could be put to use. He needed to learn the area, learn the languages, learn everything. He didnât even know where Kire and Theo were, and they were the best resource he had thus far.
But the idea of pushing forward exhausted him further. If he wasnât fulfilling Svelâs goal, then what was the point of being here? Just to live a good life? Heâd failed that his first time on Earth.
Daniel looked down at his hand, lifted it up and twisted it about to examine the rune-shaped scars.
He could wish for wealth, unlimited tokens maybe, and wait out his days here. But then he would be killed, eventually, by something, and where would that leave him?
With a new patron, a new mission, and a new glue trap. A new wheel to run on like a hamster. An infinite treadmill, as Svel had put it. He didnât even know if the next patron would grant a wish â it seemed most did, but Kire had warned pissing off patrons meant they retracted gifts. There was no guarantee of anything. Reborns were at the mercy of their patrons.
But working with Svel meant that hunger and bloodlust seeped into him, wiping away parts of himself. How could he cooperate with a creature that would push him to kill? A demon that would strip away his morals for her own mission? A beast whoâs gifts were fueled by blood?
He shifted on the bed, pulling the scratchy blanket over himself. He didnât know what to do, and like a depressed teenager, sleep was the easiest option.
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Beams of light poked through the roomâs only window and on to Danielâs face, pulling him from sleep. The sun was higher in the sky, no forced wakeup from his quiet patron. The room was still, the slouch of his bag a presence he chose to ignore.
He sat up and rubbed his face. The idea of going for another round of training felt both painful and pointless. His head swam with uncertainty and indecisiveness, the paralyzing nature of possibility digging its teeth in.
He stood, shaking off the last of sleep. Heâd go for a run. A practical choice. He may not be hunting a primordial beast, but physical fitness was important, and the exercise would help clear his mind. Itâd serve a secondary benefit of helping him learn the area.
His stomach growled, thankfully a normal hunger he was used to, but he didnât want to waste his meal of the day yet. Heâd need to figure out a better system to not burn through tokens, but for now he settled for the leftover fruit from yesterdayâs meal, ignoring the slices of orange he had stashed in his bag.
Stomach placated, he ducked out of his room, stretching stiff and sore muscles as he navigated down to the entrance of the Crawlerâs building. He hadnât had anything resembling a consistent running schedule since his college days, but the old routine brought some comfort.
The first thing he discovered when he left the building and started his jog, sneakers padding along hearty stone paths, was the people in Mast did not casually run. He got more than his fair share of looks from the people going about their day-to-day life, looks that could generously be interpreted as odd, but more accurately were down right nasty.
The street the DCT headquarters dominated was shared with a few tight buildings that couldnât match its size. They were pressed in on each other, multiple doors sharing the same building, like townhouses. But these seemed to be primarily stores, evidenced by the people shuffling in and out, frequently carrying bags or baskets that were to be filled or already had been, though he noticed a few who left the shops with empty baskets.
When he rounded his first corner he found himself in an open marketplace, stalls set up in neat rows with little slanted roofs and torches pinned to supporting beams, unlit in the day. Various goods were displayed, fresh foods, furs and leathers, dried and fresh herbs, but many stalls were vacant and there were few shoppers. The few sales taking place seemed tense, stiff lips and furrowed brows leading to people walking away empty handed. Much like the headquarters, Daniel got the impression most of the city was simply gone. He wondered if the Crawlers were the source, their absence marking a downturn in trade.
He continued on, sneakers thumping rhythmically, in a loop around to the neighboring block. His next turn revealed more storefronts, the most notable of which was an entirely brick cylinder with a dome top. The sign dangling outside was written in Proper, but the image of a book made the intent clear.
As he passed by the bookstore he peered inside but didnât enter. If the sign wasnât in Common, he doubted the owner would speak it, but the building was alluring.
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Still, his feet led him forward and the rest of him followed, moving up the street into a section of Mast that appeared more residential. Small yards and stacked townhouses lined the cobble road, stretches of dangling clothes, crossed rope with hanging lanterns, and periodic flags waving a simplistic representation of the sun decorated the land.
Daniel rounded the next corner, circling back towards the DCT headquarters with a pinch in his side and sweat dripping down his forehead. The day was picking up in heat as the sun lifted further into the sky, and he wondered where in their seasonal cycle this heat was falling.
Back at his newfound home, he entered the building with a few Crawlers he didnât recognize, receiving curt nods from the busy folk who seemed to be racing to turn around the hale of jobs Kali relentlessly pinned to the mission board.
Unable to help, his cheeks warmed in embarrassment as crept up the stairs to bathe and fetch tokens for breakfast.
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He sought the cafeteria with the pouch of money in his pocket, hoping Ghost caught him on the way in. She didnât, and he realized why when he entered the mess hall and Specter was sitting at an empty table with two trays of food.
Specter nodded as he entered and poked his utensil at the bench opposite of himself. An invitation. Daniel was a little relieved he didnât have to eat alone.
He fetched a tray of food, todayâs meal featuring slabs of mystery meat alongside sheet pans of roasted vegetables. The care put into individual meat cuts seemed to be a reward for returning Crawler groups, the mess hall more populated than he had seen it, but still only a quarter full.
Daniel took as much of the meat as he could under the cookâs watchful eye, then grabbed a generous portion of fruit, both dried and fresh, and joined Specterâs table.
âDaniel! So nice of you to join us this morning, I was hoping to catch you in the rings earlier, but afraid we must have missed each other,â Ghost said cheerily, her voice coming from the empty spot next to Specter. The utensil she held was invisible just as she was, but as it pierced pieces of food, they maintained their visibility, resulting in the peculiar display of food floating and vanishing as she ate.
Specter tapped his chest and waved. Daniel returned the gesture then spoke. âThanks for having me, was worried Iâd be dining alone,â he said, a weary note in his voice that raised Specterâs eyebrows. He was struggling to maintain a pleasant facade, heavy thoughts burdening his social skills.
âAh, a terrifying prospect, I can certainly agree. With so many people out, Iâve been facing the same dilemma myself. A terrible thing to enjoy a meal without company to chat over it with. Unfortunately, Specter and I will be leaving tomorrow, but Iâm sure youâll find a meal companion to warm your tableâs seats. Youâre certainly the friendly sort.â
âBefore you go then,â Daniel said, fishing a token from his pocket and sliding it across the table. âTo pay you back for the other day.â
The token vanished as she took it. âA friendly gentleman! Thank you very much, I can appreciate a man who tracks his debts and pays them fairly.â
âSo, where are you two heading?â he asked around mouthfuls of food. The mystery meat was tender, red in the middle, and his hunger directed him to it with feverous intent. The enjoyment was reflected on the other Rebornsâ trays, their cuts of meat gone or close to.
âOh, just a small hunting mission south of Mast, weâve got â what is it, three now? I think three, with a possible fourth, lined up in the next two weeks. Very busy schedule, quite an unnatural uptick in dungeon activity lately, and with that comes some bleed out, which is where we shine. You see dungeons, weâre not always the best fit for those, they tend to be cramped and we need space to stretch â or shoot, as it were. But when the dungeons start rolling and churning, thereâs inevitably some that spit their monsters out into the above lands, and weâre positively excellent at putting a stop to that nonsense,â Ghost explained, then over-explained. Daniel could imagine the beam of a smile on her face, though, and he couldnât resist returning what he imagined.
âIf you keep at your training, perhaps you can join us on a later date? No better practice than the real thing, and Specterâs a marvel to see in action, if only for the show.â
The silent hunter looked annoyed, but whether it was for the praise or Ghostâs invitation, Daniel couldnât tell.
He shrugged his lack of commitment. âI appreciate the offer, thanks.â
They finished their meal with idle chit chat, Daniel wanting to ask more severe questions, wanting to know if the pair really thought themselves capable of killing the Primordial Beast, how they were capable of killing at all. But he didnât, feeling the futility of it, as well as the absurdity of seeking support from people he hardly knew.
They were hunters, Crawlers, killers, Reborn. Friendly to him, sure, but equipped and ready to hurt as they saw necessary. He imagined if they were given a patron as he had, theyâd feed the rib as much as they needed to, without a second thought. Theyâd feed it naturally, a byproduct of how they lived.
Daniel wanted to see it so plainly, but the Hunger that came with Svel scared him. The way it took over his mind and stripped him of his morals made it feel as if there was no real choice in the matter.
But soon their meal was over and the pair departed, leaving Daniel to pocket his spare fruit and sort out the next course of action.
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Physical training had lost appeal without Svelâs mission and with his sore muscles, so Daniel chose to study instead. He fetched two books from the library, identical ones if he was understanding labels correctly, the only difference being that one was written in Common, the other in Proper.
He settled in the main entrance hall at one of the small chairs and tables, Kali sparing him only a brief glance before ignoring him with expert skill.
He hoped to absorb some passive language from hearing Crawlers talk as they passed through, but there were few in number and they spoke in combinations of tongues, so his focus fell to the books.
It was a crude method, going line by line to learn words, made even more inefficient by an apparent deviation in sentence structure.
But it was better than nothing, and by the end of the day he had learned about a variety of needle-baring trees native to Etheril, as well as what they were called in Proper. He also learned Proper led with its nouns before adjectives and had a tense system he didnât understand in the slightest.
Kire spoke it, though, and Daniel had started a list of questions to ask him whenever they saw each other next.
He was thinking about that list, and how to get in touch with his prior companions, when he returned to his room and discovered the alcove for the Dust System was blinking. He set the books he borrowed on his desk and approached the DS, the system materializing a folded note.
The bottom half was a crude map explaining directions from the DCT to a building several blocks away, in a different and lower subsection of town than he was in now. The top half of the paper was a note.
D,
Too expensive to send full gear through DS, swing by the shop when you want your armor. Bring the rib, have improvement ideas.
â Theo
P.S. Also bring money, I have goodies.