We've moved into the nearby forest. I'm alone, at least for now—Guard is hovering nearby in case something goes wrong, but that seems unlikely. I can feel how much cleaner my Firmament is, how much more easily it flows through my body. More than that, every skill I own resonates clear in my mind. I'm almost certain I could use those Submerged skills if I wanted to, even. Now's not quite the time to risk that, though. I flex my fingers, watching Amplified Gauntlet shimmer over my skin, nearly invisible. It's bizarre how much more easily my power flows now. It's always felt like using Firmament was something that required effort. Now it responds so quickly that I have to be careful not to overexert the skill by accident. Making the gauntlet invisible is a matter of will. A few rounds of testing have shown that the precision of my control has grown to the point that I can manifest it over one finger at a time if I wanted to. I can even use the skill to manifest rings of metallic Firmament around my wrist, though I can't imagine why I would want to do such a thing. Ahkelios seemed satisfied when I demonstrated it, though. Something about partial, incomplete skill manifestation. All this is a testament to how much more flexible my skills are now, but it's not exactly what we're here to test. Considering what I've just read? I need to see what the difference is up close. I need to see exactly how much has changed, and not just with my skills—that part's self-evident just from a bit of practice. Apparently the changes run deeper than that, and the only way to find out exactly how effective they are is to put them to the test. Right on time, a Guilty Chimera charges toward me, herded by Ahkelios. The first time one of these attacked me, I was barely able to block in time; the only reason I could at all was because of Precognition warning me a split second before it happened. This time, though? I can see it moving. It's not that it's moving in slow motion, exactly; rather, it just feels like I have plenty of time to react. To move, to dodge... I frown, noticing something interesting. I'm a lot more confident now that I have a better idea of what I'm capable of. The next Guilty Chimera that Ahkelios sends at me sees that. It looks a lot more hesitant, circling around me slowly instead of charging blindly, but that's fine. If it won't come to me, I'll just have to go to it. Even just moving feels cleaner, somehow. Like I'm moving the world around me as much as I'm moving myself through the world. I'm not so fast that the chimera can't react to me, but I'm fast enough to catch up to it. The Aspect of Energy speeds me up, and the Aspect of the Mind tells me where it's going to go. Her hand shakes. There's a weapon of some kind in it—I can't quite make it out. The vision from Temporal Link is fuzzy, like the events within it happened many, many loops ago. I can tell that it's a weapon. I can tell that the lizardlike woman holding it is pointing it at someone that looks remarkably like her. Her brother? Why would he be in the Trial with her? "Don't do this," he begs. "Please, we can figure this out together! Haven't we always?" "We can't." There's a pained sort of determination in her voice, but it's not the kind I'm used to. It's not determination born from hope or love or a desire for anything better. It's determination born from pain. The kind you're left with when everything else is broken. The kind that leads you into making mistakes that stay with you forever. I know it all too well. I want to step in, to interrupt, to interfere—but like with all the other temporal visions, nothing happens when I try to grasp her wrist. This is an event that's been repeated across time and space, over and over and over. All I'm witnessing is the scar left behind. "How do you know?!" her brother cries. "Because we already tried." Her grip on her weapon tightens. Her voice becomes a little more manic. "You can't grow. You're weak. You hold me back every time, no matter how we try to get it done. I need to get out, and I can't—I can't do it with you." "And killing me is going to help with that?" he asks. He tries to take a step closer, but flinches when she fires a shot that sears itself into the wood behind him. "Yes. The Interface says it will." She swallows. "I just need to kill you enough times. It's fine. It won't be real. You won't remember." He opens his mouth to protest. It's real for him, no matter how many times she loops. But he doesn't get the chance. A weapon fires, cutting through him too quick for either of them to react or rethink their actions. And I see it happen again and again. I see the echoes of it, all across time. After the thirtieth try, she stops apologizing. Doesn't speak to him before she does it. Doesn't look him in the eye. But the guilt remains. The Chimera is trembling when the link breaks. It lets out a low, keening whine—the closest thing to a cry I've ever heard from one of them. Then it turns to me, fire blazing out of its scales. It's not alive enough to understand what it's feeling, but it does know that I was the cause. There's only one humane option here. What I'm fighting is just an echo. It's not a true Remnant, not something that has a link to the original Trialgoer I might be able to trace. All I can do is end it. [You have defeated a Guilty Chimera (Rank A)! You have gained 4 Physical points. You have gained 25 Astral points. You have gained 20 Firmament credits.] The forest feels a little more quiet than usual. I watch as the chimera's body fades away, the Firmament holding it together dissociating into nothing. "I think that's enough for now," I say, just loud enough for both Ahkelios and He-Who-Guards to hear me. They rejoin me in the small clearing that was created by the first chimera's initial strike; Ahkelios looks like he's about to congratulate me, but he senses something through our link and quickly changes course. "You okay?" he asks, concerned. "I'm fine." I hesitate a moment, trying to decide if I should elaborate. "Just saw another one of the past Trialgoers that went through this Trial. I think she killed her brother." Ahkelios pauses. "And you're sure you're fine?" "I will be." I shrug uncomfortably—it's not that the vision didn't affect me. There's something else about it that's bothering me, though. You can't grow. You're weak. I can't imagine thinking the way she does. Both Guard and Ahkelios have taken strides to grow on their own, even without my help. But it might be time that I become a more active participant in that growth—if they're going to be fighting by my side, then I owe it to them to help them past any roadblocks they might have. Ahkelios has the Interface now. His next shift is just a matter of time. But Guard? He's still struggling with the enormous amount of Firmament he carries. My fix is enough for him to live a relatively normal life. It's not enough for him to push to the next phase shift, to stabilize and anchor himself through the layers. "Guard," I say. "We should figure out if you can phase shift. Are you up for it?" He's startled, I can tell. He looks at me like he isn't quite sure what to make of what I just said. "Now?" he asks. "I have made previous attempts..." "And it hasn't gone well, I know," I say. "But I want to see what happens when you try. I'll keep an eye on your Firmament and be here if anything goes wrong. It'll give me a better idea of what's stopping the phase shift." Oddly enough, Guard looks embarrassed. "I am willing to try," he says. He maneuvers himself so that he's sitting in the middle of the clearing and takes a deep breath, cycling air through his vents. "I do not think anything will go badly wrong, exactly, but... you will not think less of me when I fail?" Ahkelios scoffs. "Come on, who do you think we are?" he asks, nudging Guard. "You did save our asses back in the dungeon, don't forget," I say. The lights on Guard's body dim as he reaches within himself— —and I feel something else react.