“This has been… quite unfortunate then,” Sera nodded after hearing about the party crushed under the weight of the mines. “What do you intend to do?”

  “Leave as soon as we can. They probably have someone coming back to pick them up, and if they tracked us here, more people who know about it.” Nikolas analyzed the situation, sitting opposite to Clarisse around the fire they had set up. “We continue towards the east, hopping from city to city.”

  “What about Mernilk? We told Cezarius and Ashford that we would return with the Atrus ore.” Clarisse asked while snacking on slightly squished bread, more concerned about them still expecting the pair.

  Nikolas let out a frustrated sigh. “If we had found any ore before we were attacked, we could’ve brought it out. Right now, I think going back is a mistake.”

  “Okay… so we just continue what we’ve been doing? Hitch rides on caravans all the way across the desert?”

  “We wouldn’t have to if I had just stolen some of Kaara’s gemstones before he blew himself up.”

  “. . .” Clarisse let out an audibly wavy exhale, unsure of how she would feel wielding a gem from someone they killed. “Wouldn’t it become evidence then? What if someone recognized it?”

  “Right on…” Nikolas acknowledged, glancing towards Sera, who had remained neutral, for her opinion.

  “You’ve been wanting to head out on a grand adventure,” She first gestured at Clarisse, and then shifted back to Nikolas. “ and at least one of your objectives already need you to be on one. Even if you didn’t need a custom gemstone, I would still suggest that you cross the desert and head east.”

  “What are you trying to do up here anyway, Nik?” Clarisse added with a hint of hesitation. If he posed the same question back to her, there was no genuine answer she was ready to return.

  Nikolas blinked a few times, not quite used to Clarisse being a confidant. His eyes darted to Sera for confirmation, only beginning once he saw a nod from the doll. “I’ll begin from the blade…”

  Nikolas unlatched the sheath from his waist, laying the accursed weapon on his lap. “It’s not just some magical sword… it’s a vessel, just like me. It has souls trapped within it via a contract, one which must be fulfilled each time the blade is unsheathed. The price to be paid is in blood or flesh. The longer it is used, the more it needs to feast.”

  Clarisse recalled how he had stabbed himself right as he began to lose control over it, and it had sated the blade’s energy, at least for the moment. “Is that why you uhm… cut yourself?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t entirely my choice either. Should the user fail to harvest enough blood, the souls will demand compensation from the user, no matter how lethal it becomes.”

  Clarisse shuddered, both from the idea that the Fel blade had claimed many in the past, and that Nikolas would not have survived if he hadn’t already been a hollow. “So you’re trying to lift that curse and free those souls…”

  “Actually, no,” Nikolas shook his head blankly. “The souls trapped within are tainted, far too broken to be judged. They will never make it past Atraxia to receive judgement for their lives.”

  “Wait, what?” Clarisse asked again, unfamiliar with what he meant. “Don’t people go to either Atheria or Atraxia when they die?”

  “That’s not how it works, dear…” Sera interjected softly. “All souls go through Atraxia when they die. It is judgement that decides their fate afterwards.”

  “So, these souls would just be trapped in Atraxia anyway?”

  “They would,” Nikolas resumed. “They belong to my predecessors, past avatars of Shakuni. The contract which allowed them to live on without losing their minds also tainted their souls beyond judgement.”

  “How many souls are in your sword?” Clarisse asked with furrowed brows and a frown.

  “I am the eighth avatar of Shakuni. Of the seven before me, six of their souls are now trapped in this blade.”

  “And the seventh?”

  “That would be me.” Sera introduced herself again with a courtesy bow. “Shakuni’s first avatar.”

  Clarisse recalled her conversation with Sera, how she had described herself and Nikolas to be on the same level of hierarchy. It all made much more sense now, how he was her right-hand man.

  “It is the fate of every avatar to add their soul to this sword when they perish.” Nikolas continued. “Their bodies and souls are signed away from the very moment they strike that contract with Shakuni.”

  “But aren’t you a hollow? I thought they weren’t supposed to die over time like the living do?” Clarisse asked, equal parts curiosity and dread forming a viscous blend of regretful questions.

  “We don’t die, not in the same way as you do. Hollow avatars can be exterminated by magic, or slowly degrade and wither away over the years,” Nikolas glanced at Sera for confirmation. “At least, that’s what I know. I’ve survived many lethal wounds, but I have no clue about the withering part. All the others were killed.”

  “It’s a painfully slow process,” Seraphim nodded solemnly. “Like fading into obscurity while you go mad with insanity. It’s much better that they were put down before that.”

  “Even in death, their bodies are not at rest. It’s cruel either way if you ask me,” Nikolas griped, pinching the fabric of his gloves and tearing a sliver off the material. “What kind of silk would I make, any guesses?”

  The sight of Nik’s outfit stitching itself back was something Clarisse had seen before, but never questioned in the heat of battle. Every time in the past, she had assumed he had simply changed into another set. A harrowing realization rose like bile up the girl’s throat as her imagination filled in the gaps. “Is that… are they all made of..?”

  “They are. I wear their flesh and wield their souls,” Nikolas nodded, “Such is the fate of every avatar.”

  “So… what are you trying to do with them?” Clarisse asked again, unsure how it all connected to his motivations.

  “I’m trying to find a way to fix them,” Nikolas replied, clutching the sheath with a sense of reverence. “Un-break them, make them judgeable again, talk to them, whatever I can do. There has to be a way to make them return to their senses. I can hear them, and they respond to my commands, so there’s at least some basis for it… I just have to figure out the rest to save them.”

  A moment of clarity passed over Clarisse. “Whenever you… you’re going to end up like them someday, right?”

  “I would like to not become a broken soul in perpetual agony, yes.” Nikolas affirmed the obvious with an ever so slight sarcasm in his voice, holding up the sheathed blade as if he was talking to it directly. “And the only way I have to solve that is to figure out a way to communicate with… this.”

  “And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve also taken on the other soul.” Sera commented, her expression giving away subtle annoyance at the topic.

  “What, another?” Clarisse questioned, “How many of these souls do you have, Nik?”

  “Technically… 7 if I’m not counting the shell of my own,” Nikolas replied after a pause to count. “Six are trapped within the blade, and the seventh belongs to a dragon.”

  It was the nonchalance with which he said it that caught Clarisse off guard. She stared blankly at Nikolas for a few seconds, expecting him to correct himself. She even glanced at Sera once to confirm he wasn’t joking before letting her lips part and remain open in disbelief. “A dragon’s. . . soul? Within you?”

  “Yeah,” Nikolas nodded as if that was the most normal question he had been asked that day. “You know the three dragons–”

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  “Yes I know the three dragons. Everybody knows who they were!” Clarisse exclaimed. “Tegor, Zhevana, Qordia. They used to rule the entire archipelago before they just… disappeared a few centuries ago, which led to the formation of the kingdoms. There’s been no news on where they went or what happened to them...” She spoke like an overexcited historian getting to talk about their personal project.

  “Yeah, those dragons. I have a small part – like just around a third – of Tegor’s soul.” The false kitsune shrugged, not professing the same enthusiasm as the redhead.

  “T-Tegor. The Terrible Vengeance, Tegor,” Clarisse gasped in awe, this was any adventurer's dream. “Being acknowledged by the three headed dragon used to be the goal for all adventurers in olden days! H-h-how do you even have a part of their soul?”

  Nikolas glanced towards Sera to fill in that explanation, who floated down to Clarisse’s lap and held one of her hands to temper her expectations. “Shakuni was involved in the great disappearance… he decided to bestow Tegor’s soul to Nik as a challenge. He split the soul into three parts, and hid two parts across Ignisvell.”

  “-And that’s why I’m out here,” Nikolas sighed with a vaguely disdainful gesture at the world in the general, hoping it had all made a modicum of sense to the fiery lass.

  “That’s… that’s really cool,” Clarisse nodded, her eyes filled with wonder. “It’s a little scary, but just so cool! What are you going to do with the soul once you collect all three parts? How are you able to collect souls?”

  “It’s part and parcel of being Shakuni’s avatar,” Nikolas replied, taking off one of his gloves and flexing his digits for her to see. His hand gradually turned translucent, only existing as a subliminal blue-ish sheen in the air. Resting the arm on his leg made it phase through seamlessly, moving back and forth with only slight resistance. “We can see and interact with souls.”

  “And command souls to use their magic, but you don’t train in that at all.” Sera couldn’t help but sprinkle her own grievances in his demonstration.

  “I have my reasons.” Nikolas defended himself, “Mostly, that I refuse to use that skill.”

  “Wait, so you’re not going to use Tegor’s soul?” Clarisse raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

  “Finally, someone who gets what I’m saying!” Sera chimed in, both of them looking at Nikolas for the same reason but with entirely different expressions. “The dragons were no joke, Nik. The strongest beings in the overworld by a landslide! Even when I was alive–”

  “Wait, I think I get it,” Clarisse interrupted, catching the way Nikolas’s nails scraped against his attire to suppress latent frustration, and sensing the subtle anger of a child told off one too many times by their parent. “I wouldn’t want my soul used for something I never had a say in…”

  Nikolas’s entire demeanor shifted in a slightly confused yet optimistic way. “Yeah, that’s it. I don’t ever want to force a soul to act. The broken blade is part of a contract they already signed up for, and it still doesn’t rely on the magic of their souls. I want to talk to them, form my own contract if I can, and if they are willing, they can join me.” The glow of his eyes and tilt of his head betrayed a genuine smile when their sights met.

  “I think I can see both of your views, but I’ll have to go with Nikolas on this one. Sorry Sera.” Clarisse let out a soft laugh. It was a quiet celebration of being able to read Nikolas better through their soul bond.

  “Maybe you can finally get off my back about that now, hmm~” Nikolas hummed in smug satisfaction, much to Sera’s annoyance.

  “You’ll need it someday, and you’ll regret not training it before. That’s all I can say.” The royal doll crossed her arms, taking a seat in Clarisse’s lap.

  “Don’t you have any souls you can practice on?” The redhead asked, seeing some merit in Sera’s warning.

  “He doesn’t,” Sera replied for him, knowing the rogue far too well. “Because he refuses to take a single being’s soul.”

  “Ahh… I suppose that makes sense.” Clarisse acknowledged, at least she didn’t need to worry about having to see someone die like that.

  “Too principled for soul-stealing, yet vulgar enough to mutilate yourself and slaughter ignorant adventurers with your bare hands.” Sera grumbled, turning the doll inanimate as she took her leave.

  There was a moment of pause between both adventurers before they broke into shared laughter.

  “She’s always been like that,” Nikolas chuckled, throwing his head back against the tunnel wall. “Can’t blame her though. Managing Atraxia is exhausting work… and all she has to escape to is… this.” He gestured vaguely to himself, losing the humorous tone.

  “She really feels like a mother managing too many children…” Clarisse quipped, but her tone turned somber soon after. “It’s hard to believe she’s really THE Seraphim.”

  “Yeah? She can come off as a completely different person sometimes.” Nikolas remarked, recalling his time in Atraxia. “Believe me, she can make the kingdom quake in terror when she wants to. She’s just a softy to people she doesn’t have authority over.”

  “Oh I do. In the stories I read as a kid…” a shudder ran through Clarisse. “They described her as a looming, terrifying monster with a golden-black hair, towering over her legions of bloodthirsty monsters from atop her giant avian steed, with pitch black wings that covered the sky and eyes so fearsome they froze anyone it looked at in place.”

  Nikolas thought about it for a few seconds, tilting his head as he pieced together a rough image. “Yeah, that’s still pretty much true. She doesn’t flaunt all of them all the time, but she has contracts with many demons whose forms get incorporated within hers.”

  “So all the stories… are they true?” Clarisse asked, though she was unsure if she really wanted the answer to that.

  “She’s not that horrible of a person,” Nikolas waved it off. “Ruthless to her enemies? Yes. Powerful? Very, but never unreasonable. Her contracts are ironclad, though anything not written in them is fair game. The demons in her employ are usually far more of a hassle than she wants them to be.”

  “That’s… reassuring, I guess,” Clarisse sighed. “I’m still upset about the war she’s waging in the east… I heard a lot of people are suffering because of that. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Little more than you do. I’ve been stuck here the entire time. One of her captains died recently, that was the last news I heard.”

  “Captains… you mean Demon Lords? I heard some news in passing that the Demon Lord Der’kravicus was taken down by a hero.” Clarisse asked, a sliver of joy in her voice when she mentioned the hero.

  “Demon lor– Pshh-!” Nikolas snickered. “Derek wasn’t close to any rank like that. He was rising up the hierarchy the last I saw of him, but that was just because he had good rapport with his platoon.”

  “W-wait, you knew him?”

  “Not well, but yes, we were acquainted. It all kind of just happened while I was in her court.”

  “What do you think of Atraxia, Nik?”

  “What, like, do I think they’re right to wage this war?”

  “. . . Maybe?”

  “I’m no general or higher up noble. War is… an unfortunate business. Sera has her reasons, just like I have mine. She doesn’t want bloodshed. It’s why she’s sending middling captains to the front instead of the real heavy hitters.”

  “Heavy hitters… like you?”

  “She can’t command me to fight for her. She has no right. She does have others, though, The Eyes of Envy and Yaksha of Crossroads among others…”

  Clarisse exhaled in relief that Nikolas wouldn’t be joining in that effort, and despite how upset she was at Sera for the war, she couldn’t discount her kindness. It didn’t seem two-faced, at the very least. “So, what are we going to do now?”

  “Right now? You should sleep. Perhaps I will too,” Nikolas replied in quite the turn of events, gazing out at the unceasing rain. “I haven’t slept in a long time… who knows? maybe I’ll start seeing dreams of your life. You’ll know if I wake up with a sweat.”

  “Nothing nearly as bad happened to me, silly,” Clarisse joked, untying the bedding tied to her backpack.

  “You say that now, but I might end up learning some secrets by tomorrow.” Nikolas chuckled to suppress the underlying truth of his past as he stuffed Sera within his bag and propped it up beside himself. There was no bedding for the hollow besides the bag itself, which went under his arm. “Now’s your chance to spill any embarrassing nicknames!”

  “You wouldn’t dare–!” Clarisse called out, before picking up her sheets and switching to Nikolas’s side of the campfire. “You don’t have anything to rest against, do you?”

  “I… don’t need anything. You saw me stab myself not too long ago, I’ll be fine sleeping with my head on the bag.” Nikolas rebuffed her attempt with some well-earned confidence.

  “We can share. It’ll be warmer that way,” Clarisse made an excuse to disguise what she really wanted, and what he really needed. “This soul bond thing works better when we’re closer, right? Lend me your arm.”

  Nikolas raised an eyebrow under the mask, but decided to save his explanations for another day. With a part of the blanket wrapped around his legs rather uselessly, he left his right arm for Clarisse, who claimed it almost immediately.

  Wrapping her arm around Nik’s for support, Clarisse pulled the blanket over herself and rested her head on his shoulder. “Hey Nik…?” she spoke in a whisper after leaning into him.

  It was a rather unusual experience for Nik, an unfamiliar warmth of having another person so close, when usually his unapproachable nature would keep them away. “Clarisse?”

  “I like you better with the mask on. Saving those souls… I know you’ll find a way to do it.”

  The way she said it, it was meant to be a compliment, an affirmation. But that wasn’t what Nikolas heard. A twitch rushed through his body as he kept himself from reacting. The helmet was a muzzle, a self-imposed leash to keep him in check. Both he and PH:OV knew that. It was the only way they would be accepted by the overworld. A faceless mercenary acting under a false name. For months, he had been tempted to take it off, to let PH:OV’s confidence, charisma and ambitions shine through. He hadn’t, of course, on a hunch that a hollow could never live amongst the people.

  Nikolas rested his head on hers, gradually letting more weight shift between them. “Thank you… You’re the first person who has said that to me.” He spoke, a two-faced lie congratulating her for confirming his insecurities, for telling him he deserved to remain on that tight leash…

  Thank you for reading!

  This is the end of Arc 1 of TAoP!

  Arc 2 will continue with the same post schedule from next week.

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