Fog had swallowed up the sky like the days before when Hope first arrived in Mirror City. The morning grayed into its mouth of mist as Hope walked carefully down a few city blocks. Further and further left behind was the glass dome tower of Sector Two. And up ahead, the buildings gradually began to tower like little giants.
Windows shattered or clouded with years of dust offered no reflection, vines slithered up their facades of once-grand buildings.
Long burnt-out streetlights were barely visible as looming shapes in the mist.
Step. Step. Step.
Hope's feet brushed through thick patches of grass.
Kraaar–
The sound of Nightmare Creatures could be heard in the distance.
A spark of gunfire as well.
'Not close though.' Hope nonchalantly thought. So he was fine. For now.
No need to be on edge for nothing.
Step. Step. Step.
He picked his way along the street, moving around the bumpy cars shelling decayed bodies. In the front were, of course, adults. And a few cars had smaller figures in the backseat.
Woosh– Woosh–
Straight from his right hand and curved at its end, Hope casually spun the long spine.
Mixed with blood and bone and claw, the ghastly sword was studded with several pitched claws for teeth. It had a duct tape handle, but what tied the items together was a meticulous knot from the hound's sinew. The tough fibrous tissue that binded the claws to the jagged bone now served as instruments of death.
Although he still preferred a ranged weapon—greater distance from the enemy was better he thought—he had to admit that the bullets would alert his surroundings. Consequently, luring more damn Nightmare Creatures. At least now he had a 'sword' to accompany his Ashen Shield. No longer needing to be in close close combat.
And speaking of close close combat…
As Hope continued walking, he looked at his left hand stained with the hound's blood. Of course, he wasn't keen on its appearance. But he imagined again of the power he emitted to induce sleep on the Awakened…
Prince…or whatever he was truly named.
How unusual of a name.
But–
'How long do Awakened need to sleep for anyway?' Hope thought.
He didn't know the specific number. But Hope knew it was hours. Therefore, they couldn't just hop in and out whenever they wanted to. So. Hope was capable of sending them to the Dream Realm without worries of waking them by accident in this world.
"..."
His Aspect was proving to be…more dangerous than he had credited it for.
'Huh. Is that why it's ranked Supreme?'
Did that mean he could dare to go up against the higher-ups? To go to battle against the Awakened?
That didn't pique any of his interest…
To hell with being strong or the 'top dog' as they would say.
Hope preferred to be cast as nothing. Unusual to admit? Probably.
Sure he had been called that here and there throughout his life. Well, it seemed normal to in his case. It was strange to be called 'special.' Whatever encouraging twisting words they would spit into his ear, neither of those words pushed him to achieve something greater for himself.
So in a sense, he just existed.
And he was fine with that.
Desiring for more strength eventually draws in the eyes. Sure now it was...slightly demanded of him to seek more strength to survive in this damn city. And he may have to go to some lengths to achieve it. But in general, whether one was seen as a potential enemy in the far future or a toy to play with. In the end. More strength invited stronger enemies.
'I should be more careful then.'
Hope did kill the Dreamer Kurt guy.
Without obtaining his essence, maybe it wouldn't have been as timely to subdue the Awakened.
But what if others could sense some strength inside Hope as he could sense their unmistakable aura? Even with his Flaw, if he stepped into a room, how would they react?
Well, if he'd ever become an Awakened. Or that strong for that matter.
'I'm a Dreamer…that's still far into the future.' Hope thought as he continued spinning the sword in his hand.
He shouldn't get too ahead of himself. It wasn't like a Dreamer could cause trouble anyways. That type of rank wouldn't concern him as an enemy to anyone.
Step. Step. Step.
Hope blinked as a tangent thought crossed his mind.
"..."
What were the greatest enemies of the gods?
'Are they technically…our gods since we're connected to the Dream Realm?'
Was that how it all worked?
Beast God.
Sun God.
War God.
Heart God…
Huh. Why did he feel like there were more? How unfortunate if there really was… That cursed Heart God was enough to shake his life.
Hope frowned and then looked up at the sky. All he saw instead were the walls of mist, its damp breath hugging around him. But was IT watching?
'The hell's your enemy?'
"..."
Of course. No answer came from the Spell. Not that he particularly believed it would.
But…
'What did you choose me for?'
Hope shook his head as he continued forward.
As Hope had thought before, the Spell chooses its victims with its own measured degree of despair that cancers in people's hearts. An infection that festered inside from a supernatural seed. Or however else they described it. With that information people had learned years before, some settlements throughout Quadrant I started to act differently.
And...that was all he was told.
Hope could probably piece some things out from glimpsing more into his memories. But that wasn't going to benefit him now. Sure he could remember his past. But that didn't necessarily mean he had the answers to everything from it. Just as how one would need to rewatch a recording to understand the full context, despite the number of times they replay it. It was the same for Hope as well. He wouldn't consider himself particularly smart anyway.
But most importantly.
There was no feeling of despair that he remembered.
Such a poignant memory would have stood out from the rest. Sometimes the bitterness he felt toward the cultists would flicker, or the feeling of dying when he nearly drowned could be easily pinpointed. But despair?
Step. Step. Step.
Mother was dead. Father most likely as well or whatever became of him. But that was normal in this day and age. Nothing special for children to lose their parents.
That was life.
That was the kind of world he was born into.
There was no stark feeling of swollen eyes or salty tears. No trace of wailing in his throat. There weren't peak moments that would keep him awake at night. No memory of sorrow plaguing his mind.
Surely.
A time like that would strike an unforgettable chord.
Cursed or non-cursed.
Step. Step. Step.
But aside from that, the bigger question was: where the hell was this other outcast Awakened? It was unhelpful the Dreamer Kurt guy said that this paranoid Awakened dwelled on higher ground. The 'he sets up traps' part was informative enough. But higher ground?
"..."
Hope pinched the bridge of his nose.
'It's a fucking city. There are tall buildings everywhere…'
Hope thought that he should have killed someone else instead.
Of course, that was a fleeting thought.
There was the benefit of obtaining that Dreamer's essence afterall.
Step. Step. Step–
Crunch.
Hope paused in his tracks as a crunching sound cracked beneath his boot. He looked down, lifting his leg to see through the patch of grass.
And there he saw a crumble of bones. So old and ruined that it barely held onto any white. Nearby, a fragmented skull could also be seen, gazing at him with those empty sockets.
Hope walked over the fragments, not paying much mind to coming across the decay here. But because of that realization, other shapes he had mistaken as part of the motors and buildings were revealed as bodies as well. Skins that grayed matched the ruins, bloated and grotesque ones slumped over cars.
Hope paused as he found several of them wearing Brave Arm uniforms. Tattered and stained–
'Whole damn city went loose. All the guards were called to the city's center…'
Hope blinked from the voice's sudden spring from the whispers. Right. One of the men he interrogated after coming across that Adam boy said that.
Hope turned away and continued through the fog, his hand gripping tighter onto the bone sword.
In this thick shrouded street, the sun's yellow rays couldn't pierce this deep. Not when the fog's wisps for fingers grappled between the skeletal remains of the buildings. Like the vines, they invaded everywhere, sneaking through the gaps and crevices like a pervasive spirit.
'Mm…'
The noise in his mind began to hush as his eyes scanned the environment, bouncing between each waste.
And the fog closed in more as time passed.
But in the blurred distance, Hope noticed a figure of a person.
Before Hope could lash out, he realized that…he couldn't see the outline of the figure's legs. At least not where they should be.
Instead, the figure appeared like a floating ghost in the fog, suspended in air. Hope paused and tried to innately feel the danger around. No threatening aura emitted from it… But his fingers twitched on the hilt, ready to respond to any attack hidden in the shrubs before continuing forward.
And another floating figure bled through the fog.
Then two more.
Then six.
Strung up like decorations, rows from jutted poles and streetlights, cords pulled on their necks as their bodies swayed in the breeze. Hope blinked as he saw one's face was all but sunken to bones and empty sockets. Some of them were years old, others were eerily fresh, barely recognized as human with layers of tattered clothes like a monster's furry hide or faces distorted from injuries they'd suffered last.
Each of this space called out as a graveyard.
Hope frowned.
'Lawless city…' He thought.
Just how far did these people stretch that line of freedom?
Hope looked behind. Of course, he was met with the mist wall again, but from this distance to the glass dome tower, the environment had already shifted drastically. Was this another example of 'survival of the fittest'?
"Help. Me."
Swiiish–
Mist swirled in the air.
Instantly, Hope raised his sword.
The jagged blade aimed at the possible source of threat.
But angled from its point was a man hanging. The wet words he had managed to slur squeezed through a throat clogged with blood. The cord around the pole seemed to have loosened, lowering him enough for his toes to reach a crashed car's roof for support. And another cord tied around his wrists and ankles.
"Help…me…" He slurred again. His voice losing itself in the fog.
Hope blinked.
"Why should I?" Hope nonchalantly said as he lowered his sword.
The man's bruised eyelids pulled back, his pupils directed at Hope. Begging him. Pleading him.
This man must be a stray. No affiliation to the main settlements. Far from Sector Two. A rogue. And what possible 'crime' could this rogue commit for him to be strung up in this situation?
Hope scanned the shadows in the buildings.
Where were the other people responsible for this?
As Hope showed no sign of further action, the man's eyes trembled. It was the pitiful expression of having nothing else to give but his beggar words.
Words…
That tangent thought kindled an idea.
"Nothing huh."
Hope said, tilting his head.
"Well, you still have that tongue of yours."
Hope raised his foot and walked onto the car the man was barely standing on, the metal groaning as he reached his side.
Hope then hesitated.
Reluctant of the next coming words before speaking.
"Depending on your answer…I'll grant your wish."
The man's eyes trembled again.
Hope restrained a deep frown. A deal was the same as making a promise…But it wasn't like this man could betray him if he tried.
"Do you know of an Awakened around here?" Hope waved his sword casually at the fog. "The one who sets up traps."
"...!" His mouth opened and closed. The sound of gurgling followed as he struggled to speak. "Yes–"
"Where."
"..."
Hope sighed. "Even a vague answer could be helpful."
"...!" The man coughed, blood leaking from his neck. "N-near…near…"
And as if suddenly cursed with muteness, his voice completely faltered. That scared the man. His eyes widened. Panicked as if he could see his wishful request slipping from his grasp. His body rattled against the pole as he tried to speak again but to no avail.
'Well, I guess he does have nothing to give.'
He supposed the man didn't prove any use to him. Hope was about to turn away.
But before he turned completely, the man started to mouth the words instead. A last desperate act. Hope paused as he watched the lips slowly forming out the words. What the man could form anyway with those swollen lips.
Hope blinked.
'Ah.'
"Is that it?"
The man's head trembled into a nod.
'Alright then.'
A deal was a deal.
Hope raised the sword to the man's neck and a dumb gratitude flickered across the man's face at that moment which Hope ignored.
'Right…' An instinctive voice whispered.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Shing–
The blade's teeth barely scratched the man's neck as Hope turned and aimed his sword at the other sound.
A ragged woman stood at a building's broken entrance. Her skin was stained and smudged and hair was in thick, messy locks as she held a measly knife.
Hope blinked at it.
Not much of a threat.
The woman's eyes narrowed as she met Hope's gaze. "He deserves it."
"You could waste one life." Hope said.
Rustle. Rustle.
But now it was Hope's turn to narrow his eyes.
Rustle. Rustle...
Around him, he could hear steps shuffling out into the street. Shadows loomed in the fog as they broke through the grass and crunched on the bones surrounding him.
Hope side-glanced at them.
Six men. Mundane humans.
No guns.
Crafted weapons. Pipes. And crowbars instead.
"Step down." One man said.
"…"
At that moment, Hope debated acting on an impulsive thought. But then decided against it.
It would be unnecessary energy to fight against these people.
Hope lowered his sword and then stepped off the car nonchalantly. "I'll be on my way then."
"...!" The hanging man's throat gurgled with blood again. The sound of his fidgeting increased as Hope walked further away.
"I heard what you've asked the man."
Hope blinked at the woman's words. "And?"
She sneered and spoke in a harsh whisper. "You government and Sector people are all the same. We told you guys already, we want nothing from your recruitment!"
"…"
'What?'
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