The moment Guard yells it out, I see it. I almost curse myself for not seeing it before—it's not like I didn't see the Firmament flowing between them. But it looked entirely random. I'd assumed they were automatic exchanges of Firmament that occured because the ghosts were too close to one another, not that they were intentionally recreating a circuit. By the time he warns me, though, it's too late for me to stop it. I pour on every defensive skill I can. This is the fourth wave—their power has been doubled four times over. Each rank is a doubling in power. They started at Rank E, and now they're at Rank B. That wouldn't be a problem if there weren't so many of them, and if the skill they were using wasn't... I hiss at the feeling of it. This is a group cast. It's a skill generated by at least a hundred Rank B monsters working in concert. The skill they're using isn't Rank B; it doesn't match their rank at all. My mind reaches out, touches on whatever I used before, whatever a Thread is. This time, it's a little more exhausting to force—I'm straining something within me to do it, reaching out with a part of myself I haven't had any practice with. But I manage it. A split second of that trance, a split second of it interacting with my skills. [You have touched a Thread.] And Inspect burns in the forefront, growing brighter. Inspect supplies to me exactly what he's doing. Rank S. Breath of Life. A skill he'd... created? Inspect tells me that this skill is new, that He-Who-Guards has just now fabricated a new skill entirely unknown to the Interface. There's a pure, white-green aura around Guard, flowing like a sphere around him, and any hint of Death Firmament just wisps into nothing when it touches it. Perfectly canceled. Perfectly negated. I don't even know how he managed— "Ethan, get in here!" Guard calls again, sounding exasperated. Oh. Right. I push my astonishment to the side and Warpstep, feeling the aura flood into me. Then I take a deep breath, my eyes widening. It's like an instinctive response. The aura feels good. It's a warmth that spreads into my bones, giving me a sense of relaxation I don't think I've been able to have since the start of the damn Trial. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. A bit dangerous, really, to relax in the middle of a fight, but it's not like the Regrets are actively attacking while they're channeling the skill. "...Ethan?" Guard asks, looking at me with concern. I realize I'm smiling a little loopily and cough. Probably a strange expression to wear when surrounded by a deadly skill. "Sorry, wasn't expecting... whatever this is." I wrap my hand in a bit of Phaseshift, then reach out toward the aura Guard is projecting; Life Firmament loops around my fingers like a purring cat. A very tiny purring cat. "It feels good. Like I'm taking a hot shower. Haven't had the chance to take many of those since coming here." He-Who-Guards makes a curious sort of noise from his vocalizer. "You should have asked. There are facilities in Isthanok." A pause. "I didn't think about that," I admit after a moment. I don't think I've spared much thought toward taking a break, but this aura is rapidly convincing me I might need one. I mean, I took showers. I just forgot that hot water... existed. Most of my baths have been in one of the many rivers winding through Hestia. "The next time we are close," He-Who-Guards says, "I will make sure to get you access to Whisper's facilities." "I appreciate it," I say dryly. It does sound pretty good. Novi is staring between the two of us, clearly not understanding the conversation, but apparently happy to just listen for now. She looks like she's bursting with questions, though. "How did you even do this? Guard, this is... It's the equivalent of a Rank S skill. That you just created. Out of thin air." I whistle. That's not long ago at all. "Well, good work," I say. "I didn't really have a counter for gaseous attacks ." He-Who-Guards hesitates, then eventually gives me an oddly stiff nod. "I am glad I could help." I can't help but eye him for a moment. "You know I admire you too, right? I mean, considering what you've been through..." Guard says nothing, but his fans whirr a little faster. I have no idea what to make of it, so I turn my gaze back onto the horde of incoming Regrets. That Death Fog skill isn't likely to be the last trick they have up their sleeves. Far into the distance, deeper into that tunnel, I can feel something else coming. I just hope we're ready for it. Rhoran was infuriated. He'd made changes, and Ethan hadn't even run into them. And what he hadn't anticipated was that his changes had created Threads. Those weren't supposed to show up on Trialgoer planets! They were reserved for fourth-layer practitioners and above, even among Trialgoers. Part of that was because they were dangerous for anyone below the fourth to access them—their Firmament wouldn't hold steady. The other part was that Threads allowed practitioners to grow way too fast. Almost fast enough to escape the bounds of the Interface. Bah. It wouldn't be a problem, Rhoran told himself. Ethan would have to not only be able to feel a Thread and access it, he'd have to do it without hurting himself. He doubted that would happen. It would be fine, he told himself. The changes he'd made would still matter. It would affect the end of this stage, the start of the next, and the effect would cascade. His trap would still work. Even if Ethan didn't encounter anything else, the thing he'd need to fight next... no Trialgoer could survive something like that. Not even a fourth-layer Trialgoer. After all, no Trialgoer had ever managed to gain access to a Talent. "I'm surprised you're willing to just have a conversation about this," Ahkelios remarked. They were sitting in Novi's apartment. It was a pleasant place, all things considered—it had been a long time since Ahkelios had been anywhere he thought he could remotely consider a home. Even back in Isthanok, he and Ethan had mostly slept in cramped spaces near the rebel workshops. In the Cliffside Crows, they'd slept in the huts the crows lived in, made of twigs and branches. This was more... well, it wasn't familiar, exactly. It was pretty different from what he remembered of his home. But it was still nice—well lit, cushions, paintings on the walls. Ahkelios couldn't remember the last time he'd been somewhere properly comfortable that wasn't also ostentatious. Honorable mention to Whisper, who was most of the ostentatiousness he'd encountered. "Well," Zhir said. "My threats would hardly be effective if I made them miles away from the children I'm threatening." He poured out a steaming cup of what Ahkelios thought looked like tea, then offered one to him. "You brought me to them," Ahkelios pointed out, accepting the tea. "I could stop you." "Could you?" Zhir asked. "How powerful are you, exactly?" Ahkelios could sense this was genuine curiosity—it was part of the bond they shared. There was another side to it, though; Zhir wanted to see exactly how much power he would hold once he'd integrated Ahkelios as his Remnant. That was kind of the rub of it. They were both Remnants, really. Ahkelios was bound to Ethan. Zhir was bound to the Empty City. They'd had very different experiences, and held very different beliefs, in large part because of how much Ahkelios's experiences were now shaped by what he'd been through with Ethan. Zhir hadn't experienced any of that. He'd been stuck in a decaying city for what felt like centuries. "Don't know," Ahkelios answered with a shrug. "I'm pretty sure I'm stronger than when we were alive, but only if I'm borrowing Ethan's skills." That part was pointed. Sever the connection—take over Ahkelios—and Zhir would gain not even a fraction of what Ahkelios held. Zhir hummed in thought for a moment. "I don't think that'll be a problem," he said eventually. "I can always just take his core." "What?" Ahkelios asked, wondering if he'd misheard. Zhir glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Take his core. You don't know about—" Zhir laughed. "Of course you don't. I only ever saw it when other people ran this dungeon. When you kill a Trialgoer, you get to take their core. It's all the Firmament they've gathered, all the skills they've gained." "Naru didn't mention this," Ahkelios said numbly. That meant—that meant the Hestian Trialgoers would really want Ethan, didn't it? Why hadn't they come for Ethan already? "Naru?" Zhir cocked his head, and Ahkelios felt him forcing his way into their shared bond for information; he winced, trying to keep him out, but to no avail. The Remnant was strong, and his distance from Ethan meant he couldn't quite muster up all the Firmament he normally had available. Ethan was in the middle of a fight, he could tell that much. If he just held on long enough—delayed long enough—there was the possibility that he'd end this stage of the Trial before Zhir ever got the chance to affect it. "Oh, the bird." Zhir rolled his eyes. "No, I doubt most of Hestia's Trialgoers would know about it. Not the lower five, anyway. They're still only at the second layer. You gotta hit fourth layer at minimum to drop your core. I doubt many of Hestia's Trialgoers have achieved that. They're kind of weak in the wider galaxy." "They're what?" Ahkelios frowned. That wasn't how he'd heard things. But then he processed what Zhir said— "You aren't going to be able to get Ethan's skills from him, if that's the case," Ahkelios mumbled. Zhir raised an eyebrow at him. "Why? Because he's a third layer?" he laughed. "I can mimic the bond you have with him and just play your role—I'll have your memories. I can help him get to the fourth layer before I take his core." "What makes you think you'd be strong enough to beat him?" Ahkelios asked. Ethan was strong. Third was farther than most Trialgoers ever got. "No, you're right, it is," Zhir said, amused. "We never got past... what, second, I think? As far as I remember. Not that I have all my memories." "Second," Ahkelios agreed. He was pretty sure that was the farthest they'd gotten. "But you're uniquely placed," Zhir continued. "You have a link right inside his core. No one develops defenses to Firmament attacks from within. It just doesn't happen." Ahkelios was really starting to hate this guy. Which said a lot, because this guy was himself. "And you want me to just let you do that?" he demanded. "I'm not serving him," Ahkelios growled. "Even better," Zhir said. "Then this shouldn't be a problem for you, should it? Just let me kill you and take over your Remnant." Ahkelios stared at him in disbelief. "I can see this will take you more time to process," Zhir said. "Want some more tea?"