Chapter 18: Chapter 18 - The Hunger

The next day, Daniel woke to the DS alcove blinking its gentle green light across the room. Theo’s weapon delivered by dawn, he assumed, as the workaholic had promised.

But he didn’t have time to appreciate that. Svel was sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I’ve considered your words. I can’t change the past — what would you have me do now?” she asked, a plainness to her words that was unlike what he’d seen in her before.

He examined her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her fingers wound themselves around each other, itching in agitation, or anxiety. “The… bloodlust needs to stop. I don’t want to kill people, and I don’t want you to take that away from me.”

She turned towards him, pulled her legs up, and crossed one over the other. “Every Reborn has the Hunger. It’s part of our nature. A consequence of how we exist.”

”The others I’ve met don’t seem like bloodthirsty maniacs.”

She dipped her head in solemn acknowledgment of the point. “The process has been expedited in you, worse than I thought. My previous Chosen were more keen to fight, their natural bloodletting staved off the effects until… later. But you’re starting behind, you’ve no combat abilities, and you’re afraid to kill even that which would harm you. The Hunger is unfed.”

“So if I get a new patron, it’ll be the same?” he pressed, seeking out her eyes, looking for signs of lies. He wasn’t sure he’d recognize them, but he had to try.

“No,” she admitted. “You might make it a lifetime before it sets in again. It’s a slower process for most. But it will come back, it always does, for all Reborn.”

Daniel sat up, pulling his legs up and resting his forearms on his knees. He considered her words, as she had done for him.

”I didn’t expect you to be so hesitant to kill,” she added. “I thought this would go smoother.”

Daniel laughed, short and harsh. “Why would you expect that?”

Svel shrugged, a helpless and deflated quake to shoulders that seemed narrower and smaller than her previous appearances. “All the others did, when they needed to. When they understood the benefits.”

He flinched at the word ‘benefits’. “Then choose someone else, Svel, I’m not the Chosen you’re looking for.”

”But you are, you’ve the trait I need most. You understand, at your core, how cruel this system is. The evil of stripping away a creature’s right to die,” she exhaled, letting out a shuddering breath. “None of the other’s could see that, they saw only power and glory and immortality, not the inevitability of eternity.”

”I’m sorry I’ve stolen your freedom to earn my own,” she continued, a strength returning to her voice, her spine straightening her torso out. She leaned forward, grasping his scarred hand with her own and holding it tight. “But I swear to you, I only ever meant to borrow it. We will take our freedom back in the same breath, should you keep me as your patron.”

Daniel swallowed, the scars on his hand aching and twisting in a pain he thought she might be feeling too. “And if I choose not to help you?”

”I can’t free you from the machine. But I can free you from me, and you can try again with a new patron.”

He wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted. Her warnings had seeped into him, a fear for the unknown making the devil in front of him appealing. But it couldn’t continue on as it had.

”If I stay with you, I need the Hunger to stop. That’s my wish,” Daniel said, searching her eyes hopefully, but she was already shaking her head.

”Daniel,” she said, her grip on his hand tightening, skin warming, nails tight against his knuckles. “There is an ocean of bodies between us and our goal. You will have to kill, not just because of the Hunger, but because there is no other path forward.”

“And I can’t get rid of it,” she conceded with a sigh. “The less you use my gifts, however, the longer it’ll take to find you. I won’t try and persuade you any more — you can choose when and if you want to use them. Your senses will be yours, each kill chosen with a clear head.”

To call the sensation he felt ‘persuasion’ was a joke, the idea of choosing a kill sickening, but it all was far preferable to the bloodlust that had seeped into him and made the taking of a life seem inconsequential.

“Ok, I agree. For real, this time. I’ll hunt the Primordial Beast with you.”

Svel smiled and vanished.

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Daniel awoke properly this time, sitting up to find Svel gone but the DS alcove still flashing. The peculiar dream state she occupied in his mind was accurate to reality. He wondered if that’d ever come in handy as he sat up and stretched.

The process of getting dressed had taken on a new difficulty, but changing into the clean under clothes and strapping on the thick leather armor felt good, a skill to be practiced. He took Theo’s words to heart, determined to give the gear its first proper stretch today.

Once dressed he stepped to the alcove, the humming green glyphs flashing their acceptance of his presence, of his blood, he recalled from the first night in the room. The sleek weapon appeared, a shiny metal hand scythe, its handle bound and reinforced in leather that matched his armor. Attached to the bottom of the handle was one end of Svel’s chain, the rest piled in a tidy wrap. At the center of the bundle was a dark gray metal ball with two sharp points attached on opposite sides — one was the rib, the other a counterbalancing construction that mirrored the bone.

Beside the weapon was a small pouch and a note folded then stacked on top. He read the note first.

D,

Take good care of her, dry, sharpen, and oil frequently, oil given with armor will be fine. See me if you want adjustments. Ghost-friend might have ideas for adjustment and sheath.

— Theo

Inside the pouch was a pale yellow lump, the scent warm and, more importantly, soapy. It was a nice way of saying he needed a proper bath. Tonight’s shower would be glorious, as would the scrubbing of his clothes.

He set the soap on his desk then fetched the weapon. Its grip was comfortable, the small scythe easy to swipe, a clean cut through the air. He grabbed the chain end, holding it in a tight choke to avoid hitting anything when he gave it an experimental swing.

The weighted end rotated smoothly, an instinctual application of physics that reminded Daniel of a yo-yo. The chain felt natural in his hand, comfortable against his gloved palm, an almost reassuring texture — like an object he’d held everyday and could identify in the dead of night based on feel alone.

Theo provided no sheath or means to carry the weapon, so he slid it carefully into his bag then slipped the straps over his shoulders. He hoped finding Specter would prove easier than finding Ghost.

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Daniel checked the mess hall first, taking the opportunity to enjoy a large breakfast of familiar curry, its meat a recognizable tenderness, the leftovers of yesterday's meal. He smuggled more than his fair share of dried fruit into his backpack before leaving to check the courtyard, irritated eyes of the single cook burning holes in his back as he left.

The courtyard was more active than the last week, and Daniel was relieved to see Specter was part of the activity. The silent man was standing in the armory, listening to a young Crawler speak with animated gestures, offering intermittent nods.

Daniel approached the pair, navigating around a fairly populated room, small groups of Crawlers discussing training plans, selecting weapons, and organizing for their next mission.

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When he was a step from Specter and the fresh-faced Crawler, the hunter turned to eye him, giving an approving nod at Theo’s armor. The Crawler paused her words, arms mid exaggerated wiggle.

“Can we help you?” The Crawler asked, her freckled nose scrunching in mild annoyance at the interruption.

“I was hoping to train with Specter today. Theo said he was familiar with the weapon,” Daniel explained, itching the back of his neck and smiling his hope.

“Uh, well I asked and paid first,” the Crawler huffed, throwing hands to her hips with the same flair she’d been talking with.

But Specter cocked his head to the side, the inquisitive gesture clear. Daniel swung his bag off his back and opened the top flap, revealing the kusarigama within. The hunter’s eyes widened, shifting quickly between the bag and Daniel’s face.

Specter’s face was near glowing, an excitement expressed through the rapid twitches and changes in cheeks and forehead lines. It was the first time he had seemed eager to talk, and thus limited by his patron’s curse. He jammed a hand into his cloak, fetching a coin that he shoved back at the Crawler without a second glance.

She huffed, taking her money back with a glare at Daniel, who didn’t get the chance to apologize before Specter looped a thumb through one of the straps of his armor and dragged him deeper into the armory.

In a far corner, a location he had missed the other times he was in there, was a row of hand scythes. Below those were a few proper kusarigama, though they all had various tweaks and alterations. Some were two scythes, connected by the same chain, one latched at the top, the other at the bottom. Some were a single scythe, the chain attached at the top. Most of the chains had perfect spheres as their weights, but a few were cylinders, or trapezoid-esque prisms.

On the wall one of the unique weapons was hung as decor, and Daniel realized he was looking at a shrine.

Specter hurriedly snatched a few iterations of the weapon up, beckoning with full arms for Daniel to continue following him as he stormed out of the armory, brushing past the Crawlers with a fevered pace. Daniel hadn’t even gotten the chance to pay.

His teacher waited impatiently on the second ring of glyphs, tapping a toe like an exasperated father. He quickened his jog, and the moment his new boots touched the runes they were teleported up to the middle platform.

Specter set the weapons he was carrying down, glee flowing through every excited movement. He pulled his hood down, then the clasp around his lower face, parting the cloak and allowing his mouth to be seen. His smile was radiant, his face a subtle sort of handsome that was hidden beneath wear and tear. Most curiously, he had the same black circles on his neck that Theo and Ghost had, but where they each had one, he had several, more than Daniel could see on the slim portion of exposed neck, and at least two of them were filled in.

He stretched out each weapon and its chains to be viewed, then pointed at Daniel’s bag, who obediently retrieved his new weapon and laid it out in front of the others.

Specter traced the new kusarigama with delicate fingers, a reverent show of love. He tapped the hand scythe, wrapping his knuckles against the sturdy handle with approving nods, then moved to the end of the chain, settling on the unique weight with a curious head tilt.

He ran his thumb along the surface of the sphere, then down the length of the rib and its counterweight. If he understood what the rib was there was no way to tell, but he didn’t linger on the alteration long.

Once the examination was over, Specter selected his own kusarigama from the lineup, choosing the one most similar to Daniel’s and rising to his feet. He held the scythe in his right hand, a single loop of chain pinned under that hand while his left held the excess length.

He waited for Daniel to mimic the position then skipped to the center of the platform, approaching the stationary training dummies.

The first section of their training was focused just on swinging the chain around their bodies. Specter demonstrated various motions, moving the momentum side to side, then overhead, loosening more of the chain to extend the wide arcs then tightening his grip to pull it back in for a more rapid swing.

After the short demonstration, he took a sudden step towards Daniel, the swinging weight setting off a primal fear that made him flinch away. Specter shifted the swinging chain to his other side, the threat of momentum sending Daniel dancing to the left. Specter nodded eagerly, stopping the swings to point directly at him.

The hunter’s silence was infectious, but Daniel realized he was waiting for a response, confirmation the lesson was grasped. “The swinging is defensive?” he suggested, earning a nod but focused eyes seeking more. “A zoning tool, something to keep attackers at bay, or to move them where you want.”

The elaboration earned silent applause and Specter continued. He swapped his stance a few times, changing which hand held the loose chain and which held the scythe, ending with the chain in his right. He looked at Daniel.

“I can change my stance so my dominant arm is holding what I intend to attack with.”

Satisfied, Specter went through a few swings at the stationary dummies, showcasing overhead strikes, side strikes, and tight arcs that caught the dummy around the neck and bound it in the chain, allowing it to be pulled. He paused, waiting for the movements to be repeated.

Daniel stepped up to the dummy, keeping the same distance Specter had, trying the weight of the chain in both hands. He was right handed, but the unnatural familiarity of the chain urged him to keep it in his left hand. He tried to swap, but settled with it back in his left, a soft tingle to the scars he couldn’t see beneath his glove.

Specter’s eyebrows lifted at the decision, but he made no move to stop it as Daniel took a few swings at the cloth-covered dummies.

As comfortable as the chain felt in his hand, Daniel was not a naturally skilled man. It took several tries before he could even get the swings making contact, the first strike to land an overhead, downward arc that sliced straight down the dummy’s head, cutting as deep as momentum would let it.

Inside the cloth object were glowing blue patchwork rings, glyphs of a new variety. The material of the dummy mended quickly after being severed, as if time were being undone. Daniel pulled the chain back, Specter’s eyes following the rib with intense fascination, whites showing in his surprised expression. For all the strikes Specter had landed, the dummy never took any obvious damage, though his weight had no blade to cut with.

But the dummy was restored and the training continued. Specter lifted his hand to stop Daniel’s practice throws and swapped the chain and scythe, holding the short weapon in his dominant hand.

He lifted the weapon, miming a strike at Daniel, then pointing at himself. Then he braced himself, looped chain clutched in one hand, scythe lifted with the other.

Daniel’s first strike at Specter was slow and obvious, so clumsy that the hunter gave him a swift kick in the shin to stop the motion. They shared a pointed look and Daniel approached again, taking a proper swing at his teacher.

Specter swiped at the oncoming attack. Rather than catching it and blocking it, as Daniel had seen Axen do with his sword, Specter pulled the attack to his side, redirecting the momentum with a tug of the scythes curved blade. They repeated the exercise a few times, Daniel gaining confidence in his strikes and Specter picking up the speed at which he shrugged them off, before they swapped off and Daniel practiced pulling attacks away from his body.

Part way through that exercise, Specter stopped the deflects to demonstrate a proper block, showing how the hand scythe could catch a weapon, if it needed to, but pointing at his own arm, at the flexed muscles.

“It’s harder to block than redirect,” Daniel said, repeating the lesson aloud to earn Specter’s nod.

The training stretched on long past the setting sun, hours of throws, form corrections, and techniques bleeding together, taking their toll in bruises and sweat. Neither man would call it quits, both thrilled to have the opportunity for different reasons.

It took Ghost entering the ring, presence made known by the hum of green code-like glyphs, for their concentration to break.

“Oh gods, do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? Have you lost your mind Specter?” she huffed, irritation a harsh addition to her voice. Daniel could imagine the folded arms and glare that accompanied her words.

Specter held up his hands in false meekness, surrendering to her frustration and moving to collect the weapons he’d brought to the platform. The bright light of the moon glinted off their blades.

“I-I,” she started, so annoyed she couldn’t find her usual stream of words. Her voice moved a few feet as she did with unseen, aggravated pacing. “This is completely unbecoming of you, terribly unprofessional, and horribly rude! I’ve been waiting for hours, have you any idea how late we’re going to be now? We gave them a time, Specter, a time. Unbelievable. Unbelievable.”

Specter approached her general location, piled kusarigama tangled in his arms, a kid holding too many toys that simply couldn’t be chided.

“We’re going to be traveling all night, won’t even have time to eat before we meet the client, you shortsighted buffoon. You’ll be shooting with sleep in your eyes, likely to get snapped up by one of the Diles, and I’d be well within my right mind to leave you there, more useful as a chew toy than a partner,” Ghost grumbled, her anger losing some steam as Specter just stood by her, smiling. “Well, get down there, our carriage is out front, I’ve already loaded up my gear in a timely fashion.”

Specter left, leaving Daniel to pack up his weapon with aching arms.

“What is that?” Ghost asked, voice lingering by the exit glyphs.

He couldn’t see what she may be looking or pointing at, so he took a best-guess, surprised by the notion that she didn’t know what Specter was so clearly passionate about. “A kusarigama.”

“Ah, right, of course,” she said, voice moving to stand on the outer ring. “Well, frustrating as it is, I’m sure Specter enjoyed his time with you today. We’ll be back in three days time, if you keep up with the practice we’d love to have you on our next journey. Specter surely has more he’d like to teach you about the weapon.”

He’d misunderstood her, he realized, she was asking about something else. But before he could question her, she departed from the platform with the glow of the runes, leaving Daniel alone to consider the invitation.