A couple of hours passed, and Yanson got no response from the slave.

  So Ferzan didn’t show up at Brandon’s Reverence? How odd. Yanson wondered what had stopped him.

  He had thrown a corpse on the man’s family estate. It made no sense for Ferzan not to react.

  Could Abella be the one coming after him? It couldn’t be. Yanson couldn’t get information on her, but from what he knew, that woman was incredibly sick.

  Still, a sick [Hero] was still a [Hero].

  Yanson tapped his biceps, lost in thought. Katie—he knew little of her. But she was most definitely a Vlandos.

  Either way, if they didn’t show up, it was best he did what he had to do, and fast.

  He leaned off the tree and gestured to the man he’d hired from Velun.

  When the man saw him, he pushed himself off the wet green grass and dusted the ants from the massive purple sleeves of his robe.

  Yanson rarely saw such robes, but they seemed inspired by Julioes culture.

  The man asked, “How has the operation in Sundawn gone?”

  “The boy didn’t show up.”

  He sighed in disappointment. For a moment, the wrinkles on his face deepened.

  Yanson spoke as he followed the scent his lizard monster had locked on. He’d made it split and burrow underground to track the girl’s scent.

  It had only lingered in the estate before slowly fading. Like she’d teleported away.

  But after a while, it picked up again—near a source of water.

  The man followed. “We should ask the Local Spirits to confirm if such things are true.”

  Of course. He doesn’t just dress like them. He believes like them too, Yanson thought.

  “I don’t trust in such things,” he replied. “Nor do we have the time.”

  The man frowned but said, “I see.”

  He was hired for this. There was no room for debate.

  They climbed hills for over an hour. To maintain his monster for that long, Yanson had to take small doses of healing potions consistently.

  Fortunately, he’d built his tolerance. It would take a lot for him to overdose.

  Still, once this was done, he’d need a Vlandos doctor to get him a new pair of kidneys.

  Eventually, they heard the sound of water, and when Yanson turned, he saw a wide river.

  Above it, a hill. At the top, a waterfall.

  His monster stood on all fours, its snout pointing toward the cave behind the falls.

  Inside, Yanson could hear the faint beat of someone’s heart. He moved toward the cave, and the man followed behind.

  It must have rained heavily in the mountains. The force of the water surprised him.

  Yanson trudged through, knee-deep. Then he approached the waterfall and stepped through it.

  As he did, he slid a paralysis gas bomb from his [Personal Space].

  The white, metallic, fist-sized bomb felt light in his hand.

  Inside the cave sat a... metal person? A rock person coated in metal? Something like that. There were small holes in the face so she could see, breathe, and talk.

  She didn’t move. A statue, frozen with both hands pressed to her head.

  Yanson’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked at him, eyes red, nose bleeding.

  Blood streamed from her nose and slowly trickled from her mouth.

  What the hell is going—

  She smiled.

  Suddenly, the water surged around Yanson’s legs. Thick snakes of water wrapped around his body.

  Shit.

  He tried to jump back, but the snakes overpowered him, pulling him into the depths.

  The bomb dropped into the water as Falto leapt out and landed inside the cave.

  Before Falto could act, a very buff red bull ripped out of the ground and struck him—just as a bolt of white light escaped his ear loop.

  She frowned when she saw her monster’s horns hadn’t pierced him. They’d hit something solid.

  Falto flew high, crashing into the rocks before slamming into the ground. But just before he landed, bolts of lightning flashed through the room, forming a massive yellow and blue hand that caught him.

  He stood, shook his head, and shed the robe, revealing hard metal armor.

  The lightning twisted into a humanoid shape, unstable and twitching.

  Only Yanson’s neck remained above the water. He struggled against the pull.

  Then came a flash of yellow and blue lightning, followed by a gasp from her.

  Despite being coated in metal, she wasn’t seriously harmed. She must have had insulation beneath the shell, Yanson deduced.

  Plizar.

  Its paw doubled in size and slammed down, scattering the water.

  The water snakes dispersed immediately, and the ground rose beneath Yanson.

  But it wasn’t over. A pulse of water struck him from behind, sending him flying and tumbling across the ground.

  She could control two monsters at once? Was she using a low-and-high strategy?

  Yanson checked the Crusbull’s level. 20. The other monster was hiding, but based on its strength—

  It wasn’t the weak one. She was using monsters relative to her level.

  …She didn’t have the Personal Space Life Buff.

  The Bodning monster darted around like a bolt of lightning.

  Yanson assumed it was a distraction, meant to ease pressure off Falto, who barely dodged the Crusbull’s charges.

  Whenever it got close to hitting him, Bodning would suddenly strike her, stunning both her and her monster.

  Yanson shouted, “Don’t forget what we have to do first!”

  “I know what I was paid for—”

  A piercing screech tore through the cave. Yanson clasped his ears in pain. Without his armor, he’d be deaf.

  But he didn’t understand. Wasn’t she using a Crusbull and—

  Could that sound have come from the water monster?

  But it used water snakes. That pointed to an Aquaren. And Aquaren couldn’t use [Sonic Screech].

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  Something didn’t add up.

  As Yanson thought this, her hands began glowing a deeper red.

  A red almost hidden beneath the metal layers.

  Just what the hell is she? Bleeding like that, and still holding command? Three monsters at once?

  Through Plizar’s eyes, Yanson saw a beak shoot at him like a bullet.

  He rolled to the ground. The beak chipped the earth where he’d just been.

  Then a cascade of feathers fell.

  Yanson tried calling Plizar, but the creature was wrestling the Aquaren that had just revealed itself.

  Plizar was stronger, but the Aquaren had home advantage. Turning his back would be suicide.

  Yanson didn’t know how she was doing this—how her mind could remain so focused.

  Was it willpower?

  

  POV: Yanson

  Ah... it didn’t even matter. All Yanson saw were the lightning flashes from Bodning.

  Okay, enough of this bullshit.

  “We’re going to die!” he shouted in mock panic.

  The flashes from Bodning vanished. Falto got the message.

  “[Pure Fear].”

  Plizar opened his mouth and released a sound that shook the soul.

  It was an old phrase—the fear of God. Yanson didn’t know where he had heard it, but it always echoed in his mind.

  He covered his ears, avoiding the effect. So did Falto. Even if the girl’s ears were sealed, her monsters’ weren’t.

  After a while, Falto muttered, “Not a bad skill.”

  “I know.” If it weren’t so risky and ether-heavy, Yanson would use it more often. But he had no interest in gambling his ether.

  With her fragile mental state, success was guaranteed.

  How did I know her mind was fragile? Yanson had fucking common sense—and he knew the rules of the System.

  Using Plizar’s hearing, Yanson moved toward the golem girl.

  He didn’t know how long the feathers would last. He could use the Network, but his mind was strained.

  Too much risk of becoming Broken.

  A strong gust of wind lifted the feathers and hurled them out the waterfall.

  The thing floating above him looked ghostlike. The grey, rotating wind shaped it into a humanoid—if one ignored the stretched torso and arms as long as its body.

  Yanson wondered if Falto could see through it since it lacked a head.

  But a black mask spun across its body, scowling at him. So it did have a face.

  “Nice monster. Always wanted one like that,” Yanson said.

  Falto chuckled. “Got it from Hidden Sands.”

  Hidden Sands... Yanson didn’t know he had black market connections.

  But it made sense. That monster was only found in Holvious.

  Yanson walked up to the girl. Her eyes were wide with terror, blood-red.

  Her eye vessels had burst. He absorbed Plizar and released a Catereatter.

  A red, man-sized bug appeared. Underneath its body were warped, humanlike faces.

  It coiled around her and squeezed. Its black cone-shaped head pulsed as it strained—but the armor wouldn’t crack.

  She must’ve used almost all of her metal monster’s ether for that shell.

  Smart. But you’re stuck now.

  Then he noticed the ground shifting beneath her. A trap?

  “Falto. Move her off the ground.”

  Falto’s eyes flicked to him. The wind monster raised its hand.

  A whirlwind swirled around her like a mini tornado.

  The ground beneath cracked, revealing a deep hole. Her rigid body rose with the wind.

  She hit the ground hard. Yanson smiled.

  “You underestimated me.”

  His bug began glowing white. Yanson grimaced as the mental strain doubled.

  He nearly stumbled. The wall in his mind cracked.

  Falto muttered, “Risky game you’re playing.”

  “I know, I know!” Yanson yanked a healing elixir from his [Personal Space].

  He drank the whole vial and tossed it.

  This was an overdose. But he had time before the seizures hit.

  I’ll survive.

  Yanson took a deep breath. The monster had entered its second form. More than strong enough.

  “Break the armor.”

  Now tripled in length and size, it spun around her.

  Yanson looked away, not fond of the yellow skulls lining its back.

  He was used to pain, so the loud, disgusting screams from the skulls didn’t bother him—at least he tried not to seem bothered. It was hard to ignore when the volume and pitch fluctuated so much.

  Soon, there was a crack on the metal armor.

  Then another.

  A long diagonal one.

  Then more.

  The monster’s cone-shaped head, now crowned with black horns that extended two meters past its skull, shimmered with excitement.

  Finally, pieces of metal-coated rock began to crumble. The sounds of each thud mixed with the smacking of the monster’s rows of teeth lining its entire throat.

  The brown-haired girl crumbled to the ground, face bloodied.

  Yanson turned to Falto. “You might want to get ready.”

  He nodded, and his monster flew to him. Immediately, he tossed out another creature.

  It rolled across the ground, staining the clean rocks with its green and blue slimy skin.

  Then it pushed itself up with its chubby hands and wobbled on stumpy legs.

  Yanson had heard stories of women mistaking such things for babies at night. In the absence of light, it was the only time one could possibly miss the creature’s massive head, which hovered above its collarbone.

  It looked at Vernisha with eyeless sockets, then stumbled toward her.

  Yanson asked the man, “You have its second form?”

  “Yes. But that won’t be needed.” There was a faint trace of worry in his voice.

  “It’s heinous, isn’t it?”

  “Scary is the proper word.”

  Finally, it reached the little girl. Standing near her head, it tilted its own.

  Yanson asked again, “Why does it have so much control?”

  “This is its instinct. I’m in control. Don’t be concerned, young man.”

  Next he’ll tell me not to worry about a live grenade lodged in my throat.

  It fell back onto its rear and began heaving. Suddenly, an explosion of light burst from its eyes and mouth.

  The blue glow seemed to become solid mass, stretching from its orifices and creeping toward her head in the shape of vines.

  “I can’t help but think this monster would be easy to kill,” Yanson said.

  “Don’t be naive. It just acts that way. Damn thing is ridiculously intelligent.”

  “I see.” Yanson wanted to kill it just for existing.

  Falto said, “I’m in her mind. What are the orders?”

  Yanson grinned. “Everything she holds secret. Everything she fears others knowing.”

  When Vernisha heard that shrill cry from one of their monsters, she completely blacked out.

  But she was already close to losing consciousness. She must’ve overdone it, trying to control three monsters.

  She floated in the dark fog, aware she had lost. Aware she was going to die.

  She shouldn’t have used herself as bait. But she had thought if she hid in a tunnel, he would immediately recognize it was a trap.

  Damn it—

  Suddenly, her head exploded in pain. It felt like needles had been driven into it and twisted in all directions.

  She clutched her head. It wasn’t just pain… random memories were rising against her will.

  That time she stole a banana from a stall, but felt so guilty she forced herself to forget—so she could forget the guilt.

  She used to hate Ulah. She used to wish he had never been born because they were poor. She didn’t want to share—not when they barely had anything to share.

  Stop. Stop. Stop.

  Above the darkness stood an old man, confused for a second. “Give up, child...”

  Her head pounded harder. Her eyes began to water.

  Memories that were never meant to resurface surged forward like a tidal wave. Fighting back only made it worse.

  Back at Vaera, a group of kids gathered during noon. Curious. She had been there too, but without fear.

  They chanted. Drew with chalk on stone. Nothing happened during the ritual.

  But every week afterward, one of them died in a strange way.

  She was never affected. She had just watched silently as the parents grieved and wondered what happened to their children.

  That memory was never supposed to be revealed. She had sworn it would die with her.

  Her breathing quickened—not just from pain, but from the shame of being reminded of how selfish she had been—

  Ugh.

  She had killed someone a long time ago.

  A memory she had buried rushed forth.

  She was probably six. Her brain hadn’t worked right yet. Natasha had gone out. Her friend, Palia’s brother, was supposed to watch her.

  She had wanted to look at the red sky. It fascinated her. He kept pushing her back inside, saying a Sharkcrow would snatch her.

  He was annoying. She got mad. She wanted him to feel what it was like—to be denied something you loved—

  Then something interrupted the thought. Like someone had yanked the hook from that memory.

  But she had remembered all of it.

  She truly was a hypocrite.

  No—she was a bad person. And that part of her couldn’t change.

  Her hands trembled. She felt hot. Really hot.

  She gasped, trying to cool herself. It felt like she was under thick blankets. Like she was back on Earth, in Roseau.

  A strange heat she hadn’t felt in years burned her alive.

  Then the man above the fog said with a confused look, “What the hell...?”

  His brows furrowed. He shook his head, as if dismissing her memories. Like they were fake. Fabricated.

  “Give me something else. Something about Sundawn.”

  Again, he hooked into a recent memory. The pain returned, building like pressure in her skull.

  “Why resist? Aren’t you the reason so many people died?”

  She gasped and looked up. The hook twisted through the field of memories, latching onto Ulah... and Caren.

  “Give up, child. Do what’s right. For once in your selfish life, do a good deed.”

  Suddenly she was at Vaera’s Balash Temple—the white and gold building.

  No... no, no, no.

  “Yes. Give in.”

  She grabbed many bread rolls and ran away.

  No.

  “Yes...”

  Caren was given one. Then Ulah. They both became sick and—

  “Why resist? You think it’ll change the past? Say it. Say what you’ve never told anyone. Not half-truths. The whole truth. After all, aren’t you a bad person?”

  They… became…

  Stop it. If you talk, you’ll die.

  She was already going to die.

  “You’re not normal. Not right. You’re a demon, aren’t you? Why defend yourself? Why not accept that no one will love you—not the real you. Once they find out your secrets, they’ll try to cut off your head. And you know it’s true.”

  It… (Stop it. Don’t let him get into your head!) was… (It’s… it’s not…) It was true.

  Everything was ripped out of her and dragged into the light.

  “We entered Sundawn. Lo’jul brought us to a doctor’s office. I tried to heal them, and for a while, it worked. But they mutated. They turned into Man-Eating Creatures.”

  It was her. All the deaths and destruction—her fault. She had turned them into monsters.

  Silence. The ocean of thought went calm.

  Too calm.

  Then he spoke. His voice had changed. It was filled with emotion now.

  “You’re truly a demon... You should just die.”

  Vernisha’s eyes drifted down to the fog at her feet.

  “Yeah,” she answered hollowly.

  “Let me help with that.” He extended his hand. “When you’re dead, there’s no pain. No anxiety. No more worry.”

  She stared at it. Without thinking, she reached out.

  No more pain. No more worry. That sounded wonderful.

  He continued, “This world hates you as much as you hate yourself.”

  As she floated toward the hand, a voice stopped her.

  “Do you believe that, Vernisha?”

  A voice she knew.

  One that shouldn’t be there.

  She turned and saw a pair of cat-like eyes.

  As the fog shifted, she could barely make out the figure behind them.

  It was… a black cat.

  But it had the voice of—

  “I find it hard to believe you think that.” The cat’s eyes didn’t blink. “You seemed so happy around Ferzan and Katie. When talking to Lo’jul. When you were with Tarnisha. Even that silly woman, Abella.”

  “Was I wrong?”

  It was Natasha’s voice.