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With an answer to the question plaguing me for days, I reach forward to the floating object in the darkness before me. The floating three-sided Sigil. Two sides that possess patterns similar to my Sigil, pupils bound in chains, which means they are both Philosophers.

On the other hand, the third Sigil looks like a balance that has been evenly set. What is odd, though, is that the Sigil is constantly shifting, the balance moving back in forth but always meeting back in the middle for a brief moment. It distracts me for a while and stops me from touching the floating Sigil, but eventually, I gather my focus and brush my fingers against the mysterious structure within myself.

In a single second, I go from being within the void that is my Center of Self to standing within The Cabin once more, its weirdness and darkness even more uncomfortable than the void.

I look around to see if anything has changed within the cabin, but everything appears to be the same. The same table stands before me, and so does the same book. The tome is closed, and I once more see the illegible words on the cover of it in a language I've never seen anywhere but here.

I came here to advance, though, so after just a few moments of pondering and observing, I step up to the table. Then, I reach toward the tome that sits on the wooden table that appears to be made of purple wood.

The instant my finger touches the book, it flips open to a new page, filled with three questions that are inputted to my mind through the tome's weird language. I assume that each of these Sigils corresponds to a question, but oddly all the questions are different. Not even the two identical Sigils have the same question.

Why do people live?

Why are rules so good at keeping people in line?

What is man's most powerful weapon?

All three of the questions on the page of the book throw me for a loop as I understand that it is a choice, but I am unsure of which to actually answer.

I figure the one in the middle is for the Lawman Sigil, and I would instead continue my path as a Philosopher for many reasons, like it's the most likely to keep me alive and that I resonate the most with it. But does it matter which of the other two I answer? Will it somehow change my Sigil? Or is it merely another thing for me to choose? I have no idea, but I know I must choose one.

The excellent thing part about being in The Cabin is that I have all the time in the world. Every time I've ever entered this place, somewhere beyond reality, time had never moved by the time I returned to my body.

So, I take my time to decide which of the two questions to answer between the first and third.

The first seems to be incredibly vague, like how wide can someone's reasons to live be? I feel like that is a question much too hard to answer with confidence. The other question is also bizarre. How do I decide the most powerful weapon of man?

It feels easier to answer, though, so I continue with this train of thought and explore some possibilities.

Is it our intelligence? No, any creature can gain it with enough mentally focused Sigils, and all demons are born with wisdom equal to or higher than most humans.

Is it our Colts and Claymores? No, it's not that either because the natural artifacts born of the dead or dying are more powerful than all but the most masterful artifacts of the same Sigil.

It's definitely not our unity, either. I've seen wild animals from different species work together better than a group of people. Humans only work together when either their backs are against the wall or if they have widespread interests and backgrounds. Our wills are too stubborn to accept more than that in most cases.

Wait, maybe that's it. The human will. Even that story mentioned it. The dying man said it was the most critical tool of man. Are tools and weapons the same? I think they are. Few tools exist that do not somehow aid in our direct survival. Our will seems like a good fit.

I have done some pretty crazy things just by forcing it with my mind. I held off the Bloody Palm from taking me over merely using some Ether and my mind several times. The most prominent examples are the first time in the forest alone and the most recent takeover attempt.

Virgil has also done incredible things by merely using his mind and unwillingness to fail. He fought against the Bakwa's curse despite not having a single ounce of usable Ether for long enough to kill the damn thing. Then, he held on long enough with my help to stabilize and force the curse to meld with his Sigil.

I'm sure in the coming days, I'll see many more examples of our will keeping us alive. The human will is a mighty weapon and might be our most potent. I think that's my answer.

The indomitable spirit of humankind.

I cement that as my answer with a firm look at the book, and the moment I decide it is my final answer, the words shift in an incomprehensible pattern until the information is thrown into my mind from the page.

The reader of this page now plants their feet firmly onto their third step of the stair, you have answered oddly, but in such a way that resonates with you powerfully, and for that, I congratulate you.

Your third Sigil toward Release, toward Freedom, and toward Limitlessness. One final leap remains until your Release.

You have completed a single Act of Absolution, as such, your Sigil will be slightly shifted to fit and mold with your previous.

The Moribound Struggler

The struggler against the world that holds all down. Able to not only perceive what is but also act upon what could be. Able to bend yourself with your very will as the world contorts you in turn. Your mind now moves with the weight of Ether behind it. Your limit of channeled Ether has increased far beyond what it should be, your near-death experiences bolstering your capability with Ether well beyond what is expected as you struggle toward Release.

You have met the Sigil that you Absolved with, and as such, the boon that was granted initially shall be evolved along with you. You can now handle the force of a Struggler's defiance; no longer must the Ether come from without your very will able to supplement the air that would strengthen you. If you wish, however, you may still breathe a gasp of defiance against whatever may send you Moribound. Caution would be advised, however, for a Moribound Struggler's defiance is by no means weak.

May your journey, while certainly filled with death, be glorious, long, and worthy of my aid.

My focus returns after all the information enters my mind, and I process it, but I am overwhelmed even then. The amount of data this time was far beyond any other, but I was right. This 3rd Sigil was the Struggler, but the prefix is a bit worrying. Moribound? That means dying, right?

So I'm a dying struggler? I guess that sounds about right. Quickly my focus is turned away from my new title and instead to the unique abilities granted by the Sigil. It seems as though this new Sigil has three main traits, one of which being the usual, one being an enhancement, and the last being a new, unknown skill.

The first is the standard Ether saturation limit being enhanced; whether this will save me now is unknown. I believe it did the last time I advanced, but back then, I only slightly went past the Edge. This time I dove way past the treacherous Edge into the abyss below. I doubt it will be enough to pull me back up, but it does say that my near-death experiences have increased it even further. I assume that means all my trips beyond the Edge and back lately have increased my limit of Ether, just like the first time I did, although, again, that time was me barely going over it.

The second boon from the Sigil is an enhancement to Strugglers Gasp. It seems as though the old statement about me not being ready for it so long ago in The Cabin's book was right. And that now that I am capable of creating enough Ether to loosen my chains, I can do it without breathing in Ether to aid me. But it also seems as though I can still do the gasp of Ether, only that it is more dangerous now. It's never seemed all that safe before, to be honest, though, so I don't know how to take that. For now, just to aid my thinking, I'll name the version without breathing Strugglers Defiance.

The last and final boon that is entirely new and unknown to me is being "Able to bend yourself with your very will as the world contorts you in turn". I have no clue how that will work, but I suppose having Ether behind the weight of my mind will aid in that somehow as the next thing to be mentioned by The Cabin. I'll have to test that new skill when I return to my body.

Returning to my body is something I should do quickly, but first, I need to read my following Metaphor. To do so, I turn my head to perceive the right side of the open tome and the runic, unknowable words that lie within. The second I do so, the knowledge upon the page bursts into my mind along with the image of my new Sigil.

The Sigil has only slightly changed. From a bizarre eye of defiance wrapped in many chains, it has turned into the same thing, but now the eye has two pupils. The discovery and change are pretty confusing, but before I can linger on it, the tome's information forces its way into my attention.

A Struggler is able to struggle against the grim world before them, searching for a better one. But for a Struggler to grow further and achieve their dreams, they must Release themselves. And to be Released, the Struggler must prove themselves. A Proof of a previous Metaphor. You must prove your answer to one of the questions:

If chains are the medium that restrains us, then how do they act upon the real world?

If dreams and hopes are not real, then what is to be done with them?

To continue, my Moribound Struggler, place your mind within the Sigil and return to whence you came.

I don't have a Metaphor to answer. Instead, it's a Proof. That is quite a surprise, but I think I remember seeing or hearing about that somewhere. And the fact that most find proving a Metaphor ten times harder than answering it.

But I feel like it will be the opposite. Proving requires action, and I am much more confident in my actions than in my thoughts. So, after just a few moments of reflection, I shrug my shoulders and reach toward the Sigil within the page with twin pupils.

As I do so, I clench my jaw, fingers, and mind in preparation for what is to be on the other side. Now that I've had time to think, I think I may know who the man that I saw before grabbing the Sigil is. The man who appeared behind Oliver may have been my friendly Darkstalker.

***********

Virgil Boone

When I left Wyatt, I knew he would do something stupid. Just the look in his eyes told me. He wants to keep me and my brother safe, but we only want the same for him.

And teams do not abandon each other.

So, I went over to Vernon when we were supposed to get the Concoction, and I sent the man to find it alone. Risky, I know, but much less dangerous than letting Wyatt go alone to fight a group of people at least twice his Sigil. The young man is powerful, I'll give him that, but he's not strong enough to do that. No one is. Not to mention that he's on the verge of acute Ether saturation every time he moves his Ether.

While Vernon went to find and buy a Concoction for the young man with his fox that devoured a man's brain matter on the side of the road to advance once more, I followed him silently and Masked. My new Sigil skill makes me almost undetectable, and I love it. I stalked him until he found the Gunfighters right-hand man, or I should say, right-hand woman. I waited in the dark in case he needed me, but Wyatt ambushed the wounded 5th Sigil perfectly, allowing Primrose to finish the job.

As long as the difference in Sigils isn't more than three, I believe that there is always at least a chance for the weaker to win. The only exception is if within that three Sigil difference is a Metamorphosis into the Angelic realm. Because the power each Sigil gives increases almost exponentially upward, and by the time one earns their 7th Sigil, they truly go beyond humanity and most of its physical weakness.

Most Pillars can shrug off lethal wounds; a few missing organs or even a punctured heart isn't a big deal. They are simply no longer human. The Unyielding Wall is known for losing half his skull, heart, and right arm in a battle once. It took him a while to recover and the aid of many medics, including a long-deceased 7th Sigiled doctor, but he did.

So, I could see even a 1st Sigil killing me, a 4th Sigil, if they were clever and prepared enough, but I could never see myself slaying a 7th Sigil legend. Only two men in history are said to have accomplished that feat. The First, and the current Prime, men beyond anything I could ever hope to be.

And so, I merely watched the conversation between Wyatt and Primrose, the lady with the deadly pink scarf; she's quite a well-known woman. I was going to follow them both as they moved, but the woman who had advanced to the 5th Sigil used some Sigil skill and transported them rapidly with a cloud of disappearing smoke.

Panicking and fearful for Wyatt's life, I immediately got out of my hiding place and searched for him. I went straight toward the center of town using roofs, alleys, and still carriages to rush forward, and by the time I arrived, I saw Wyatt on the verge of death.

Rage instantly filled my soul as I saw my companion touch the door of the grim lady herself, but I kept it in check. Anger helps no one, especially not a Darkstalker. I must act as The Cabin advised while explaining my newest advancement.

"Stalk the dark and those that within the light without emotion. The light is your weakness, while the dark gives you strength. Emotions are no different. Within the dark, the future is undecided."

So, I push these dark emotions deep within me as I push Mask to the limit of what I can reliably control, and I start the flow on Necrosis, the dark Ether from my Sigil braiding around my bowie knife.

Then, I rapidly flit toward the man threatening Wyatt's life, but I am too slow. Just as I remove my Mask and strike the man from the dark, he kicks the dying Wyatt in the face, who is reaching for Law's Light.

It is not all failure, though. The man I noticed on my way here who had foresight abilities was vulnerable to the Mask of the Darkstalker. I stab the Necrosis covered blade straight into his heart, instantly ending his life.

Then, I kneel down to Wyatt, who just got kicked in the head, his entire body melting from Ether oversaturation and the kick that sealed the deal by knocking the struggling kid unconscious. I can literally see his body destroying itself. Damn, kid. He's too tough for his own good. If only he were like Vernon, who passed out from the Ether headaches and could not push through them.

But I suppose if that was the case, Wyatt would have died a long time before we even met him. I can do nothing for the kid as I hold him in my arms. It appears he will be another to fall within my arms.

Not the first, and certainly not the last. I ignore the gunfire nearby and the screams of both the Hunters and the rebels who fight amongst each other. I merely focus on the young man who always seems just knocking on the grim lady's door. A young man whose candle is being extinguished long before it turns into a glorious pyre that gives the rest of us warmth and security.

I cradle his head in my hands, taking in the loss of life.

Looking at the young man whose eyelids have turned to liquid flesh, I share one last piece of eye contact before I look up at the group of people that forced him into this situation.

Then, I set him down, careful not to make the situation any worse or any more painful for the lad as I Mask myself once more, fading into obscurity. I may not have been able to save the kid, but by the Devil himself, will I avenge him. Because it was not just the man I had already killed who pushed him to this point.

It was everyone in this square, and as such, they shall all become my prey. Even the Gunfighter will be my prey, for without his orders, the young man would never have fought here. The Flickering Darkstalker has yet to fail in killing its prey. I don't seek to have it start now. Before my orders fell from tyrants, ordering me to slay any they sought.

Now, I have my own targets, people I wish to see dead. And there are few more significant motivations than cold, heartless revenge.

As I stalk away from Wyatt, I see another young man, similar in age to Wyatt, crawl over to him while dodging the odd stray bullet or burst of Ether. Shaking my head in acceptance, I focus on the prey before me.

I hope this battle will be difficult, for I have anger to expunge and darkness to deal with.