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Wyatt Graves

I awake to someone slapping my face, the pain a stinging reminder I am still kicking. However, I don't have to open my eyelids like most people, as they have already melted away from the Ether rampaging uncontrolled within my body.

But the rampage isn't as destructive as just a few minutes ago. I can immediately feel a difference now compared to before I evolved my Sigil. Before, I couldn't even feel the pain of my body dissolving. That is just how far gone I was from the Edge. But now, I can actually sense the fiery pain that encompasses my whole body, the evolution into a Struggler pulling me a bit closer to the Edge from the abyss. However, it feels less like me getting pulled and more like the goalpost moving closer to me.

The second thing I notice is a face that stares down at me with tears in his eyes. It is Earl, the man is screaming at me, but my ears no longer work, so I cannot hear him. I try to speak to him, but I cannot tell if anything even comes from my voice. The pain is so overwhelming I cannot focus on much. I think I prefer the numbness.

While I lay here for a few moments, I feel several harsh vibrations beneath me, originating from the center of the square. This makes me look in the direction the vibrations come from, and what I see amazes me.

No longer are there two merely sides fighting; now there are three. A team of six versus a team of two versus a lone man. The group of six is led by a 6th Sigil who is speeding around with incredible swiftness shifting the sands with every step, unable to be locked down or hurt as he deals gradual damage and wears out his enemy.

The duo consists of Primrose and Johnny, fighting almost back to back against the whole team of six and the solo. The two are heavily wounded yet fight as if they have never been hurt once. They move back and forth, covering each other as if they have combated hundreds of times together. It is a level of coordination I could only dream of.

The lone man is a familiar face, or I should say a familiar silhouette, as, at this point, Virgil never shows his face during the day. The Darkstalker uses his unique abilities to Flicker in and out of combat, disappearing and reappearing from the gaze of every to land a deadly strike here or there. I notice him go after Johnny a few times, but he is quickly repelled, the Gunfighter's instincts too strong even for the Darkstalker's stealth.

In just the single minute I spend watching, mesmerized by the battle before me, I see him trade blows with Primrose before landing a Necrosis-covered strike on two of the Hunters, who I don't know, and Rebecca. His stealth makes him uniquely suited for killing other people, something I don't think I've ever noticed.

So far, he's even better at dropping the Hunters than Johnny, but I guess he has been dealing with Frederick, the Hunter's 6th Sigiled, the whole time. I just don't understand why he's also attacking Primrose and Johnny. Did they do something to him? I don't know, but I would be so torn if they did. I push these thoughts to the side as I zone out and watch the battle with Earl yelling beside me, ears full of cotton and constantly ringing as if a gunshot went off beside me.

After some time of watching the fight, I look back at my body as a sense of urgency fills me. I watch as Johnny, Primrose, and Virgil slow their attacks, the numerical advantage simply overpowering.

I can see my body breaking down and melting into a pile of flesh, but it's much slower than before. I don't know what I can do to fix it, though. I figured advancing my Sigil would fix the problem, but it only reduced the severity. I guess I indeed went far, far beyond the limit of a 2nd Sigil.

I can't use Ether to fix the problem because that started it. Virgil's here fighting, but Vernon is nowhere to be seen, so I assume the younger brother is still looking for a Concoction to buy or steal.

Earl is beside me, and he obviously has no idea what to do either, as he's just frantic and unintelligible. I can't imagine he'll be much help, especially considering he is also wounded, just not as bad as me. He has a bullet wound in his shoulder and a massive bruise on his collarbone. I imagine those came from the Hunters.

There is only one thing I can think of if I cannot use Ether. Virgil has told me many times that the human spirit is capable of incredible things, and I agree. After all, I used it as an answer to a question from The Cabin. But The Cabin, in turn, gave my very will the weight of Ether behind every action.

Now, what that means exactly, I'm unsure, but I figure it means that my will is capable of affecting the world. That was another part of the explanation of my new Sigil as well, but I figure that would require Ether to do it, but maybe not. If my will is made of Ether or powered by Ether, why must I consume the substance to bend the world with my will?

Without any other possible avenue of survival, I focus my mind on my body. The withered, melting, flesh-rotting thing that is still me. The only part that remains unchanged is the Bloody Palm, the hand outwardly unphased by my condition despite the odd noises that come from it. There is another thing I also notice after my advancement: the murmurs from the Bloody Palm are hushed despite me not using Daydream.

The whispers aren't entirely gone, but their shallowness is a promising sign. I use this great sign as further motivation while I push my "will weighted by Ether" onto my body, trying to force it to stay in one piece. I'm unsure how to get the new ability to work, or is it a skill? I don't know. Something as passive as this must exist in some other Sigils. I'll have to figure it out somehow if I survive. No, when I survive.

My dubious intent with the skill is quickly brushed away as I feel fast improvement in my falling apart body, pieces of skin and flesh holding onto my body instead of just rapidly falling off. After about a minute of intense focus, I feel better. Not good, but my body is no longer collapsing before my very eyes, the rate decreasing to a speed more similar to my first time going beyond the Edge. The pain also reduces significantly, from a debilitating paralysis to a whole-body throb.

While doing this, I feel the Bloody Palm's Ether again. The artifact's core beats like a faux heart and sends dark, rejuvenating Ether into my body, reconnecting the broken tissues and missing tendons.

Then, the pieces of myself, like skin, flesh, and muscle that were just barely hanging on, begin to reconnect as I push even more of my will into keeping me whole. While my will compels my body together, the Bloody Palm reconnects the lost parts. As I do, so though, I feel the world's contortion.

It is similar to when Mother Below puts her bet against you but without the knee-buckling pressure. I can just feel every part of me being twisted, pulled, and crushed just a little bit. It feels like the acts that I perform with my will are rebounded to my body. Like every action I take has a reaction. In order to reinforce my body, I am putting permanent strain on it. Any damage is worth living, however.

The final piece of me that moves with the aid of the Bloody Palm is my heart, the organ beating rapidly, sending blood and energy all throughout my body.

After another minute of this, I feel confident enough to move, and so I do. Glancing at Earl, who is looking at me filled with confusion, I roll over onto my stomach. Then, I push my arms beneath me. One arm is missing all the skin and most of the flesh, while the other is only bones and tendons. Even I can comprehend just how unnatural this all is. I almost gag at the sight of what I am, but I cannot. The internal parts of me that can gag are not yet repaired.

No man should still be alive if they were in my place, but I'm no ordinary man, and neither is the thing attached to me. We both strive for survival with our whole beings and as such, the world bends to our will.

I stand slowly, shakily, and dripping bits of flesh that weren't appropriately reconnected via the Bloody Palm. Then I look at the battle occurring nearby; by this time, multiple people have already dropped.

Three of the Hunters have either been killed or knocked down for the count, two by Johnny and one by Virgil. It is hard to tell who has died and who hasn't. I'm not one to assume. But I see that Rebecca is unmoving on the dirt, surrounded by a pool of blood.

Primrose is speared onto one a bulletin board nearby, the news on it stained by her blood. Frederick put her onto it, the man pulling out a javelin and skewering her in a trade for two of his companions as his distraction cost their lives. From here, I cannot tell if the poisonous woman is alive. Not sure which I prefer to be honest, but I do notice that her skirt is torn, and the things within are scattered all over the floor. I do not see the detonator that she should have... A short burst of worry goes through me, but I don't have time to focus on a detonator that might be under her or in the dirt. Threats yet remain.

Only five people in the entire town square remain standing, six if you count me.

Frederick and two of his Hunters take a short pause from fighting to look at me as I shamble, all their faces contorting and eyebrows rising at the sight of me. The three of them range from moderately to severely wounded.

Johnny moves with a cane of broken wood in one hand and a gun in the other. He stands opposite Frederick and his squad, only glancing at me briefly with a snort. The veteran is covered in wounds from head to toe and bleeding non-stop, but as they always say, never underestimate an old man in a game of bravery.

I only catch a short glimpse of Virgil, the man disappearing and reappearing at random intervals, but when I see him this time, I see a badly injured man. Bloody holes are all over his outfit that protects him from the sun, and because of that, burns are etched all over his skin where they meet the open air. Virgil spends the lengthiest amount of time looking at me despite the short period in which I spot him. We lock eyes, and I nod at him.

After this short glimpse of Virgil, I start walking toward the group of three Hunters, and I see one of them step back as I shamble toward them. Frederick, the man with inhuman speed, shakes his head and points at me before returning to Johnny.

I hear the man with auburn hair and streaks of white that oddly matches his insane swiftness and speed at the gunslinger. His words inspire anger in me.

"So, this is how it's gonna be? Yur' teaming up with Hollows? I mean, look at him, Johnny. The poor kid looks like a zombie. Is that really a way to fix the world? Where did you even find one? Never mind, I'm sure they will take you back if you surrender, even now."

From his words, I start moving in his direction faster, shuffling my feet more quickly and quicker as the muscles on me heal. But before I can even get close, Johnny speaks up with a cough that ends with a wipe across his mouth and a palm covered in blood.

"He's not a hollow, just a tough kid. He'll make it through this; I'm confident of that. More confident than I am in even my own survival today. But yes, even if I had to ally with Hollows, I would. The Prime and the rot that festers is a dozen times worse than any Hollow. How about you join me, Frederick? I know you don't want to lead this team half psychos and half estate children."

The conversation between the two takes a turn as the whole area stops fighting for the first time to listen. Even Virgil doesn't strike and instead lets the two speak as he steps back with great heaves of air. I take the time to heal a little bit and learn how my new ability works from my Sigil. I'm unsure what to name it yet, or if it even needs one, as it's just my will.

But without knowing what it truly does, I use it to increase my heart rate; the Ether-infused will seems to grant me delicate control over my body. This delicate and precise control that it gives me over my body makes me think that maybe that's where my Sigil is evolving toward.

It started with a slight increase in physical precision and the ability to see my target, the target being my chains. The second Sigil allowed me to sacrifice parts of myself in favor of others, allowing me to be precise in what part of me is acting at its peak and what is not. The third gave me a will that can affect me significantly, allowing me to bolster, manipulate, or control parts of my body that are typically impossible. It's different from Daydream as that skill has a negative as well; this one doesn't seem to at all. I can only assume that they work in conjunction as well.

I'm unsure where the Absolution fits in with it all, however, but my thought process that seeks to figure it out is interrupted by frustrated words from Frederick that attempt to convince Johnny to join him once more.

"You know I can't join you, Johnny. Too many things tie me down. Family, friends, and laws. I leave, and everything I care for shatters. Not everyone is like you, willing to lose it all. Johnny. Stop this farce. Please. We need everyone right now; the Borderlands are simmering. War is coming, not just this single break, but more. The Chiksika saw what was to come in the future. Your little rebellion will only hurt humanity more. I can plead for you to only be minorly punished. A year or so at the frontlines. I have a supporter who will guarantee it."

The Gunfighter shakes his head as he slowly loads platinum-looking rounds into his revolver. His long and detailed response visibly shakes me and Frederick, who literally takes a step back from the silver-haired gunslinger by the end.

"You just do not have the guts required to do what needs to be done. None of you do. Only one other man I've ever met does, but he's long gone, and no one knows where he is. A few others have the potential, and I have seen fit to surround myself with them, preening them to aid me for what is to come."

Johnny's eyes harden, his gaze rooting the others down as he tries to explain himself and end the fight without any more deaths.

"This world is rotten to the very core. The Gods that live above and below in their divine kingdoms care either not at all or actively hate us, their own selves rotten and long forgetful of their gracious days. The demons beyond seek only our destruction, our presence an act of defiance to them and their creator. The monsters, ghosts, and other creatures that exist also seek our demise, either to sate their hunger or their pleasure."

The Gunfighter shakes his head in disgust as he continues, gaining a moment to breathe, at least if nothing else.

"Even our so-called keepers, protectors, the Hunters exploit and take advantage of the common man. Gone are the days when any Tom, Dick, or Harry born had a chance for greatness. The laws the First put into place before his fall are gone and forgotten."

Johnny points at Frederick with an outstretched and bloody finger, directing his words directly to him.

"Humanity is divided to the very core. We fight each other constantly, Frederick. Even now, with a break and a powerful demon breathing down our necks, we are fighting. And I don't care if you came of your own volition or were forced. It matters not. What matters is that there is only one way to solve the problem. There is only one situation in which humans will be wholly united."

A short pause hangs before Johnny finishes his own hypothetical.

"When our very species is on the brink of extinction--- but, Frederick, that is not what I seek despite that being the solution. I do not attempt to reach for that scenario to make it happen. No, I merely prepare for it as it is destined. I can see it. I may not have the psychic foresight of Chiksika, but I do have a mind. A mind that has seen much and weathered more."

Johnny's eye glances at me for a second before converting its attention back to his threats.

"A storm is coming, Frederick and there are no Graves to bear the weight as we usually force them to, no noble Estates remaining to fight for the weak, and not nearly enough Pillars to keep the building upright. None of which usually maintains our lands stable exist. Even now, monsters, ghosts, and other beings creep around the fringes of humanity, eating towns just a bit too far away."

Johnny coughs, spitting up a chunk of congealed blood as he begins his warning.

"This storm will overshadow any other. And I'm not talking about the break nearby; no, I can handle that just fine. The demon within will fall like all the others I've met. It might be the strongest I'll ever face, but I will prevail.

But what I speak of is the inevitable realization the monsters, demons, and all the other creatures that exist within and without the wild have when they notice that not only is humanity not united, but instead we have never been more divided. They can crush and devour us at any time, leaving few of us alive.

The Prime may still be alive, but it is obvious to any who reaches our heights that the man no longer cares about us. His old age has made him uncaring, apathetic, and narcissistic. His shadow no longer guards us, no, his shadow merely restrains us with a false sense of security.

Sectioned off into hundreds of towns ruled by one or two strong Sigiled, the only thing giving them the authority to rule is the title of "Hunter". So easily can one or two denizens of darkness take over a town with us none the wiser despite everyone thinking the Prime holds off the significant threats. At this point, I don't think he'd even raise a finger against either of the Binary Lords."

The gunslinger's eyes fall in sadness as he emits the harsh truths of the world, each word sinking heavily into my mind.

"We might have the most Sigiled compared to any other time in known history, but we certainly have the smallest number willing to die for one another. These years of relative happiness and peace have corrupted us. Broken us into sharp but fragile pieces of glass scattered too far apart to be put back together without losing most of us.

What is required for us to no longer stab each other in the back is for our backs to be against the wall. And when that happens, I and mine will be ready. Not because we caused it but because we knew it was coming."

Johnny pauses one last time, sucking in a deep gasp of air before asking his question while extending his hand for peace.

"So, I, the Unalloyed Deadeye, ask you one final time, Frederick Alfonse. Do you wish to join me and my Survivors, or would you prefer to die when the Hunter becomes the Hunted?"