Shattered Bastions

[passislisk]

This has shown some cool concepts and world building so far, but the teen clique drama from the pov of a good but socially incompetent guy is getting a little stale. Maybe because I also read the Jaune leecifer story that's been on a super long similar arc and the Mc feels sameish.

 

[Leecifer]

Chapter Eleven: Night Crash

​

Dylan groaned as he got up, his everything aching.

Because Thrain had gotten them fighting instructors and they'd all learned how absolutely terrible they were at fighting, even with their [Job]s.

That said, not all combat [Job]s were created equal, and they'd broken out into effectively three tiers.

At the top were those of them with direct frontline specializations.

This was where Dylan sat, though he was at the very bottom of that tier, with the instructor finally giving him a little rubber-band revolver, because he kept summoning the actual one, but, since they were using practice weapons, he wasn't bleeding, so it never loaded, not that he'd actually use it on anyone in the Caravan.

Right above him, surprisingly, was Amy, whose [Shieldmaiden] [Job] kinda turned her into Captain America a little, though her innate style was mostly defensive, with the occasional shield bash or throw in there, and, when they sparred, she couldn't really hit him, not hard enough to really matter, but he definitely couldn't hit her. Honestly, if they actually fought, it'd turn into an endurance match, though, realistically, he'd likely just cut himself to bleed enough to load his gun, and shoot her in the leg or something.

Then? Val. She was good with most weapons that you could swing hard, which, while useful, meant she wasn't great with any of them. She instead psyched herself up, like he'd heard in her [Job] the first time she'd said it, and then the [Furyborn] hit like a freight train, though their instructors had gone 'that's cute', blocked her casually, and got her to start using more skill.

And at the top?

Malik.

It wasn't even close.

Even purely using his [Moonblade], though, if he was allowed to, he never just used his [Moonblade], the guy was crazy good. The dark-skinned boy had spent most of his off time working with the [Job] in a way that none of them had, with his biggest problem being the fact that he was still out of shape, but he was working on that. If he was allowed to, though, he'd use his [Systemic Arcanist] to boost himself, his [Iron Cook] to slice with precision in ways that, trying to track how his main job worked, came at weird angles so you got caught off-guard by. Worse, trying to get distance was a pain because his running related job, [Dash Stepper] let him sprint even faster than Anna could, over very short distances.

Talking with him, Dylan's roommate had both mentally broken up all of their running tasks into small bits that the guy 'just needed to get through next,' while also thinking of himself like a character from one of his Manga, this one called BLANCH, all caps apparently, named Yorumichi, the 'Goddess of the Dash'.

Which meant Malik was fast, skilled, unexpected, could suddenly get stronger, or faster, or make a shield, and, when he gassed out, which he did really fast… he just cast his Vigor spell on himself, and got it back.

Even the instructors were impressed, which Malik had been excited by, but didn't really know how to take, and had instead asked if he could try and pick up a different combat [Job], this one using just martial arts, to, again, be like Yorumichi, which technically also put the boy at the bottom of the 'rankings', though no one commented on it, not even Kyle, who'd been…

Not having a good time.

Which finding out he was in the middle 'Tier' hadn't helped with, because his [Champion]-ness, while it gave him some fighting ability, was all about rallying people. And that… didn't do much in a spar. That put him alongside Logan, his [Sentinel] more defensive and perceptive, and Ivy, whose [Huntress] had a stealth and tracking focus as well as just combat, with her fighting ability itself divided between bows, daggers, and short swords.

Then, at the bottom, were all the Wand-ers, who really weren't having a good time. And who were told, no, they needed a personal combat option. Not just because Mana was finite and they would run out of it in a protracted fight, but because all of their martial Rune [Job]s were 'artillery types', of the stand-and-cast while someone else handled the enemy directly variety. Which… was exactly what they'd been doing when they'd gotten them, but that meant they'd gotten none of the combat instincts that everyone else had gotten, and were slowly working the kinks out of. Instead of dealing with someone in your face, they'd instead gotten a much sharper sense of 'battlefield geometry', to drop their effects where they wanted without hitting friendlies.

All [Job]s were of generally equal power within a Rank, according to their instructors, it was where that power was allotted that made them what they were.

That meant the Wanders had the furthest to go, Anna working with wielding a mace in her other hand, while Sam went with a rapier, Bartholomew and Kristen both using daggers, but they were also the ones getting healing spells to speed up their physical development. Except it turned out that only certain types of healing magic were good for that, the kind that made you heal faster, like Anna's, while Malik's magic removed the injury, so the body didn't improve because it had no micro-tears to heal.

It was kind of interesting, because the Caravaners knew that some worked, and some didn't, with a little test to check, but it'd been Sam that'd been the one to point out why. They all knew it, they'd all taken Health, but Dylan had been too focused on trying to get his own energies to work through the practice weapons they'd gotten, like it flowed through their Miskonite ones, to make the connection.

Also, Bartholomew, who figured out his spells from scratch with [Tridecagramist], had been able to modify the healing spell he'd made to do it the way they needed, while Kristen and Ivy, who both never shared what their magic [Job]s were, couldn't.

But that left Dylan to heal on his own, as he put his all into it, and his enhanced healing meant he had second day levels of soreness after going to bed. Which still sucked, but by the time he got up, showered, and ate breakfast, he'd be fine.

Stretching in bed, of course that gave him double charlie horses. Gritting his teeth, he swung his legs out of bed, and forced himself to stand, his cramping calves unable to fully writhe under his weight as he waited them out, and he really was looking to getting an Iron rank [Job]. Their trainers informed them that the physical changes, while subtle, that they were going to undergo from getting to that level would stop that from happening.

There were tons of little quality of life changes they'd get as they went up the ranks, because their [Job]s would make them better at doing whatever it was they did, as almost no profession was improved by getting pimples. The fact that it'd change them on a fundamental level, though, was… something he tried not to think about.

They had enough to worry about, really, and were told that, even with what they were, it'd be a while before they hit Iron, so…

He'd worry about it then.

<SB>​

"Can you pass the, uh…" Dylan requested, pointing to the meat skewers on the table. They'd finished their foraging run, and dropped off their hauls, more than a little tired. Thus dinner had been set up for them by the others in the caravan, meaning it was waiting for them in their own room of the dining cart.

"They're Stabbykeet," Bartholomew informed him, passing it down.

The Raider blinked, "Really? It looks like beef. Just… tastes a little funky?"

Malik, to his left, nodded. "Yeah, isn't it cool! Also, like, some kinda birds have red meat, it's just chicken, and turkey, and stuff like that that are like that."

In retrospect, having cut them open to harvest parts, they had been almost off-puttingly dark red inside, but, Dylan realized, some part of him had labelled the Monsters as, well, monsters. Good for 'loot drops', most of what they grabbed turned into either exotic trade materials or potions, which rendered a lot of material down to a single vial, so the Caravan didn't have to haul it all raw, and forgot that they were, you know, edible.

And, while Dylan and the others didn't fully field-dress the monsters the scouts killed, they had learned how to do so for normal animals in Home Ec, so, of course, the foragers who actually had [Job]s for it would strip them down for everything. He was just glad that they didn't have to, because, as needed as it was, he kinda hated ringing it.

Taking another two skewers of roasted Stabbykeet that had a kinda sweet, kinda spicey glaze, he looked around at the others, Kyle at the opposite end of the table, next to Amy and Kristen, the same way he was sitting next to Malik and Anna. Dylan asked everyone, "So, anything good happen?"

"Oh, I finally got a new [Job]!" Sam perked up. "I am now a Clay ranked [Seamstress]!"

Dylan joined the others in congratulating her, even as she grimaced a bit, looking to the Asian girl seated across from her, going, "Sorry, Ivy, I know you haven't gotten yours yet."

"Don't worry about it," the other girl, who also worked in the Caravan's clothing shop, deferred. "I'm still trying to figure out what I want to specialize in. I'm thinking maybe leatherworking? You knew what you wanted right away, so yeah you'd get yours first."

"Yeah, I mean, god knows I made enough costumes for theater," the drama-club member smiled. "This is just that, but, like even better!"

Thinking about it, "Wait, Sam, your combat [Job], it's some kind of weaving, right?" Dylan questioned.

"[Arcing Runeweaver], yeah," the girl nodded, before she froze. "Wait, you don't think…" she trailed off, entering a state that he was very familiar with, as she realized the cross-applicability of her [Job]s, lifting her hand, and, after a moment, she waved her fingers, drawing with a few lines of electricity that made everyone else lean away, before she realized what she was doing and let it fade. "Sorry! But, Dylan, you're a genius!"

"That he is," Anna agreed.

"Actually, it was Malik's idea," he disagreed, jerking a thumb towards the guy next to him, who froze. "But, yeah, it was really smart."

"I, uh, um, it's just," his roommate stuttered, as Sam, after a moment's hesitation, smiled at him. "It just made sense?"

Logan, sitting next to Ivy, nodded, "Yeah, but only after you pointed it out, dude. Tried it out myself, after I worked with Mr. Aldric long enough to pick up the [Herbwitch] [Job]. It didn't really help that much with [Sentinel], but [Sentinel] helped with it. It's all about noticin' stuff, so, bein', like, a plant Sentinel helped me spot things I'd missed!" the stoner smiled.

"Herbwitch?" Sam questioned. "You do magic with it?"

"Nah," the laid-back guy replied, "I'm not workin' with shrooms yet."

There was a moment of silence at that, Dylan turning to Malik and asking, "So, is cooking Stabbykeet different, than, like, a steak?"

Listening to him, yeah, it was. As a bird, the Stabbykeet didn't really have 'marbling', and that meant you couldn't just throw it in a pan unless you were quick-searing, and if you overcooked it at all it got tough, fast, but the Caravan mostly cooked it in a kind of hot water bath, with the meat wrapped in a leaf bag, which they'd restocked when they'd been in Gondolin. The kitchen used magic to hit just the right temperature too. The other boy wasn't exactly sure how, but "super cooking senses" apparently came standard with Iron rank cook jobs, so the more experienced chefs handled that part.

Turning to Anna, things were going well with her too. She still hadn't gotten a [Job] for it yet, but, well, talking with the Caravaners, the more you pushed yourself, the faster you got a [Job], or pushed it forward, and he wasn't really sure how you 'pushed yourself' doing accounting. Actually, thinking about their… eventual fates, it was possible to try and slow down one's progress, especially need as one was Wrought-ing, losing [Jobs] as you found your maximum and had run out of free 'slots'.

But… any time you pushed yourself, any time you did something new, any time you learned, you'd move forward, just a little, so it could be slowed, by a lot, but, from what the locals had said, never truly stopped in its development.

Except, for now, they needed to get as good as they could, as fast as they could, so, smiling, he reassured her that he was sure she'd get it soon. Which, from how she smiled, that was the right thing to say, and, hesitating for a moment, she leaned over to kiss him, which surprised him, since he was normally the one that had to kiss her, but he was happy she was.

The sound of something hitting the ground made them both glance over, though, and, oh, Kyle had stood, glaring at Dylan, his chair on the floor behind him, before, with an ugly look, the boy stomped out of the room.

And now everything was awkward again.

Dammit.

"Smooth, Beth," Ivy commented dryly. "Because that isn't an issue we're all not talking about."

"Who asked you?" Anna shot back. "Just because you're jealous I have someone and you don't doesn't mean you need to be a-"

"Let's not fight, please," Dylan interrupted. "Let's just, just have dinner." Neither girl said anything, so he took that as a yes.

Amy, meanwhile, stood up, grabbed her drink, and Kyle's, and left without a word, which just made things awkward all over again.

"Uh, hey, Bartholomew," the Raider said, trying to get things back to normal, "haven't seen you around, when I've been fixing things. What've they got you doing?"

Kristen was the one who answered, smirking, noting, "The haven't got him doing anything."

The nerdy boy shot an annoyed look at the nerdy girl, before, taking a moment, answering, "I've been doing work with Runes. It's not quite the same as my, uh, Arcane magic [Job], though it's close. Runes are what make all the magic items work. Most of them," he corrected. "It's actually quite interesting. It is just… touchy. So I'm not allowed to work on anything until I get Clay rank. I've just been reading manuals, and watching other people work. I haven't been allowed to touch anything, yet, but no one without a [Job] there is," he finished, glaring at the girl next to him.

Logan nodded, "Oh, you're like a magical electrician then! Have an uncle who does that. Dude talked a lot 'bout bein', like, super careful." He artificially roughened his voice, quoting the man, "'Lest ya get bitten by the pixies!' Cause if your doin' framing, ya might get a splinter, but workin' with power's a lot touchier!"

Sam, giving the boy across from her an uncertain look, asked, "Did he work with actual pixies? Because, uh, magic's always been a thing?"

Anna laughed, "I think his uncle was being metaphorical."

Logan nodded, "Yeah, he was just talkin' 'bout being shocked. If I wanted pixie dust, I had to go somewhere else. So, yeah, Bart, that sounds normal."

"It's Bartholomew," the nerdy boy corrected, but seemed to be better off for the reassurance. "You also can't accidentally turn yourself inside out with electricity. But… That makes sense."

"Definitely sounds cool!" Dylan offered with a smile. "And, Kristen, haven't seen you around either, where are you working?"

The girl didn't answer, so, glancing at her, Bartholomew smiled teasingly, "Oh, she isn't."

"Shut up, Bart!" the nerdy girl hissed.

The good humor on the boy's face twisted slightly into something a bit nastier, as he shot back, "What's wrong? I'm not doing anything either too, right? No," he continued, looking to Dylan, "she thought she'd found a way out of having to get a post like the rest of us! Bragged to me how she was gonna talk Mr. Quill into letting her job be writing down all of our 'superior Earth knowledge.'"

"I said shut up!" the girl reiterated, but the bespectacled boy didn't so much as look at her.

Malik, meanwhile, frowned. "Wait, you mean, like, math formulas and stuff?" At Bart's nod, the dark-skinned boy summoned his phone, opened the library app, and selected one of their textbooks, showing everyone the cover-page that'd been loaded up. "Couldn't we just, like, lend them our phone? They speak English here. Can they, like, not see the screen or something?"

"Oh, no, they can," Bartholomew smirked. "And they already have all our textbooks. They're written out, by hand, in the library of Neo-Avalon. Anyone that's part of the Caravan can learn from them, but most don't. Like Thrain."

"Just reading a textbook's kinda weird," Sam agreed.

Malik blinked, "Oh, uh, it is?" Everyone turned to look at him. "I was curious. Like, they're all on the app!"

Even Bartholomew seemed unsure how to respond to that, so, shaking his head, he continued, "Right, yeah, so that didn't work. Also, Mr. Quill's, like, got a doctorate in a dozen different subjects, cause he's almost two hundred years old. So that was a bust, and she's still job-hopping. I think she's the only one of us who still is."

"Jump off a bridge and die," Kristen informed him.

"Sorry, can't, I'm too busy not working at my job," the nerdy boy fired back.

Well, at least they're not trying to kill each other? Dylan thought. And also, right, Vey had warned them that ranking up would slow how they aged, so just because someone looked like a normal adult didn't mean they couldn't be, like, someone's great great grandparent.

Which also meant that he now had an even better reason to not think about that stuff right now.

Though, a different thought did occur. "Wait, if we're spending most of our time doing our normal jobs, and foraging, and now training, how are we supposed to have time to do three different things like they said we're going to?"

Anna perked up, having the answer, because, right, she worked with the people who managed everything. "Once we're Lead Rank in our first niche's [Job] we'll spend half our work-time training on our next one. But even being, uh, us, that's months away, now that we're not using Miskonite gear."

Kristen frowned, "But wouldn't it be better to have us get better faster?"

That… was a good question, but Logan shook his head no. "It's all 'bout the instincts. Like, don't get me wrong, I like the boost from my Lead [Job]s, but I also don't really know how to use 'em. None of us do. Why we're doin' the training, but, like, my cart job [Job] I just kinda got, ya get? Still some cool stuff, but, like, it's bein' on top of a hill, instead of bein' on a mountain."

"Like being on stage, instead of a catwalk," Sam agreed.

Ivy frowned, "You've been on a catwalk?"

"Yeah?" the theater girl responded. "To help move the lights? Sometimes the stage crew needed help."

"That's… nevermind," the Asian girl replied.

That helped settle things, as they finished up and headed to bed, despite it still being bright outside, which was still something Dylan was getting used to. It was only the second 'cycle' of the Day, and they'd been reassured that it wasn't until cycle five that bad things started happening, when the Caravan didn't do any foraging for a lot of reasons.

They hadn't gotten five days, cycles, of Day yet, despite being with the Caravan for two months now, which was unusual, but, asking about, not unheard of.

Malik was already in bed, reading something on his phone, when Dylan dropped the shade, covering the long, thin window completely, plunging the room into darkness, which, since they hadn't turned the light on, meant he had to take his phone out and use its flashlight to navigate to his own bed.

"Night, Malik," he offered, settling in.

"It is?" the other boy questioned. "That was fast."

"No, I… I'm going to sleep," Dylan corrected.

"I will too, just one more chapter," his roommate told him.

Turning over, the Raider told Malik, "Don't worry about it," and drifted off.

<SB>​

As he and Anna jogged through the forest, under the light of the fourth cycle of Day, Dylan understood why all of their backpacks had come with cloaks, because the feeling of Veil Light, the illumination from the multi-sunned sky, had gotten worse the longer the Day had gone.

Right after 'dawn', it wasn't that bad, just a little uncomfortable. Well, it'd been bad compared to actual daylight, but it was a subtly off thing. By day two, it'd become noticeable to everyone, not just Malik, and everyone started to stay in the shade, but subconsciously. Now, it was downright uncomfortable, if he stood in it for more than a few minutes straight, and trying to imagine sleeping in it?

It'd be miserable.

They didn't have them on now, and until night came again this would be the last run they were going to do, but, as there were now wandering monsters, that was fine with him.

There weren't a lot, the Scouts had run through the area, and taken out most, the Ashback parts in Anna's pack proof of their actions, but she was really working as the scout she wanted to be now, as there were lone Monsters that either the Iron and Bronze rank Scouts had missed, or they kept on showing up somehow.

There weren't a lot, they'd only taken out three in the last hour and a half, and quickly harvested what bits they could, but the fact there could be another around the corner had them both on edge. Also, Dylan was getting a sense of how precise the Scouts had been, because when Anna downed them, usually with a blast of cutting wind, half of the things they'd normally grab, like a Stabbykeet's beak or a Rendcat's spinal fluid, were broken, spilled, or otherwise ruined.

Not that he blamed her, he'd broken the teeth of the Hookpaw he'd taken down, the not-a-dog snapping at him to get a mouth-full of axe, as he'd used the butt of his unloaded revolver to smash its skull hard enough to daze it, rip his main weapon free, and take off its head.

Honestly, things were so bad that, when she'd suggested spending some time to… enjoy each other, and he'd asked if she was sure, Anna had, after a moment, agreed they'd do so next time. Or, as he'd suggested, their 'dorm hallway' had extra rooms, which had definitely got her thinking.

Either way, they were focusing on getting their gathering done, moving fast, both hoping to find another downed monster or two, or even willing to take them down themselves, in order to hit their quota and get back to the Caravan.

If only they could find enough materials; an electric feeling of danger in the air that'd never been present when they were doing this at Night.

"There, Dyl!" Anna pointed out, and he looked her way, following her arm, to where there was an oddly dark spot on a tree. Running over to it, the out of place shadow was centered on a deep purple mushroom. The 'Shadeshroom', as his [Forager] [Job] informed him, had a defensive mechanism that wasn't that bad, as long as you didn't breath in it in.

"Take a couple steps back, and keep a lookout," he ordered, Anna nodding, as, with his axe in one hand, a collection bag in another, he took a deep breath, and swung.

Darkness then exploded outwards, blackness expanding to blind him, but he'd prepared and caught the falling fungus in the bag, retreating back into the Veil Light, the cool darkness giving way to harsh brightness, the container in his right hand streaming blackness, as, able to see it, he synched it closed, cutting off the stream of illumination-eating spores.

Shaking himself off, shadows streamed from the creases in his clothing, then taking another step back, he finally breathed, not wanting to get that in his lungs. The Caravan healers could handle it, but the spores made you think 'dark thoughts' according to his [Job]. That didn't make a ton of sense, but it was also a supernatural mushroom that ate light, so, sure.

The deep growl made him freeze though, as, turning, from the cloud of expanding, yet thinning, darkness, shone twin pink lights, and a Boltjaw came running out of the space that it couldn't possibly have been hiding within.

He only had a single second, but that was enough, bringing his axe up and taking the creature in the side of the head, slamming its edge right along its eye, causing it to flinch, running past him, trailing dark spores from its fur, until it ran face first into a tree, causing it to drunkenly stumble about as it readied for another charge.

Then, and only then, a ribbon of green light slammed into it, taking it head on, causing its jaws to split horizontally in addition to vertically, killing it instantly.

"What the hell?" Anna questioned. "Where did it come from? The tree?"

Looking at the tree it'd come from, which was slowly becoming visible through the dispersing black fog of darkness, it looked completely intact. The only way he thought the beast could have come from the timber was if the bark hinged open like a door.

"They said sometimes monsters just come from nowhere at all," he offered. "With the Shadeshroom, it thought it was Night, so it came out, I guess."

"But came out from where, Dyl?" his girlfriend questioned.

"… the darkness?" he shrugged. "It's magic, Anna, we can ask when we get back." Looking at the dead monster, while anything in it head was gone, there were a few things inside that wouldn't've been touched by the spores. Except… it was messy, so, "Let's go for another ten minutes, we're almost done, and if we don't find anything, we'll swing back and harvest it."

The blonde woman looked at the beast with distaste, "You mean I'll keep watch and you'll harvest it?"

"Yes, that's what I mean," he smiled, rolling his eyes.

"Then that sounds great," she smiled back, and they pressed on, finding, over the next ten minutes, two embersprouts, three crystal tulips, and a length of slithering ivy that was almost snake-like, except for, thankfully, the lack of any fangs, and had to almost be cajoled into its bag. With that, they'd absolutely hit their quota, finished packing up, and started to head back, the Veil Light bearing down on them.

"So, when we drop this off," Dylan started to suggest, "maybe-"

But he was cut off, as the world seemed to ripple for a moment, a thick wave of invisible magic dropping down from above, though it didn't seem to do anything.

"Dyl?" Anna questioned, turning back, as he'd stopped jogging, looking around. "What is it?"

"I, I don't know," he stated slowly. "But, but we should definitely head back."

"O-Okay," she agreed, not able to see what he had, but they started to go faster, now moving at a run for a couple minutes, the feeling in the air getting worse, and worse. He glanced up seeing the Suns were moving, and not slowly, like they sometime did, not that he could look at them that much, but quickly, the lines rapidly undulating, the spots of light shifting and darting about, almost like agitated fish.

Then, as one, the Suns disappeared, plunging the world into darkness, Anna, ahead of him, stumbling and falling to the ground in surprise, having tripped over a root, while he was too far back to catch her, though he didn't stop, and, getting to her a few seconds later, as she struggled to get up, he reached down and picked her up, putting her on her feet, as, around them, the howl of Boltjaws and other things rang out, and, from the ground, a long, black, Omukiddy burst up, and headed right for them.

The three foot long venomous centipede was apparently the dwarf version of a much larger, much nastier Copper-tier monster, with no real harvestable parts without the proper jobs, but also the kind of thing that only hunted at nightfall.

Which… it apparently was now.

Without hesitating, Dylan pulled his axe, and, timing it, swung as it leapt for him, burying it in the giant insects face-plate as he stepped aside, like a matador, killing it and letting it fly past him, the poison dripping from its jaws missing him to sizzle slightly as it hit the grass.

"We need to go," he said, more to himself than Anna, and she nodded, before the skies shone with a terrible not-light.

Even at 'night', the Farweald was lit up, the faint glow through the clouds of what he was pretty sure wasn't the moon letting them walk around without the need for a light, once their eyes adjusted, which, he only now realized, they hadn't had time to, the world unusually bright, but that illumination wasn't what was letting them see.

It was something else.

And it was growing.

But it… wasn't light.

Looking up, a bit of faintly back-lit clouds, off in the distance, started to glow black, looking at it not making him nauseous like the Suns of Day, but he almost locked up, every hair on the back of his neck rising, as the light grew, but the colors faded.

The brighter the world became, the more washed out everything else was, the sounds of Monsters quieting down around them, lost as well, until the Farweald was an eye searing monochrome, every shadow razor-edged, as the world itself seemed to hold its breath.

Until the clouds exploded downwards.

Something was coming through the Veil, with a screech that scratched the corners of his mind, so much Mana pouring off it, he could barely breathe, something within the mass of billowing cloud, not spinning like a twister, but touching down all the same, and, through the churning mass of grey, he thought he saw a wing, covered in eyes, in a color that he wanted to call black, but it wasn't, it was the color you saw when you closed your eyes, filled with static, and bleeding wistfulness, before a stabbing in the back of his head forced him to look away for a moment, his face warm.

The cry echoed out again, this time angry, offended, the sound tearing into his soul, and, forcing himself to look, trying to focus, to not see the magic, the churning clouds tightened, solidified, around a shape he couldn't define, before, moving as if in reverse, the Veil retracted, taking whatever it was with it, even as it fought the process, a single claw momentarily visible, larger than any cart in their Caravan, covered in swirling serrations and ripping the air itself, leaving squirming wounds in the world, before it was gone.

And, for a moment, it was Day once more, before the veil went utterly still, not a ceiling of obscuring fluffy clouds, but a hard, grey plane, like an unending plate of steel, darkening the world until everything was pitch black.

He stood there, trying to process, as Anna, fumbling, brought out her phone, turning on its flashlight, even as…

Whirr-tik-tik-tik

Dylan blinked, his revolver in his hand, a faint crimson glow coming from it, as his girlfriend, turning, gasped, going, "Your face!"

Reaching up to touch it, he found his cheeks slick with blood, and a little awkwardly, stowing his weapons, he pulled out his own phone, turning it on, selecting the inside camera on the app to look at himself, and…

Oh.

He'd been crying blood, it looked like. As he blinked. His eyes feeling… somehow sore, but… later.

Closing that app, switching on the light, he dropped it in his breast pocket, as he heard the life around him shaking off the same thing that'd stopped him.

And they sounded angry.

Anna looked to him, and he nodded, telling her, "We need to go," as he took off, towards the Caravan, really hoping it'd stopped when all of… that had happened, and she nodded, doing the same with her phone, to light her way, darting past him as they ran, looking back and frowning, but he knew how far they needed to go, and sprinting wouldn't work.

"Same as before," he told her, "we can do this."

She nodded, and started to move, a Rendcat, which hid in a tree she passed under, leaping out with a hateful yowl, causing his girlfriend to flinch, but a shot from his revolver, painting the forest around them momentarily crimson, took it center of mass, punching through it and killing it instantly, as he didn't break stride.

Especially as the flash of light showed them the trio of Stabbykeets coming for them.

"Anna, wind ribbon, eight o'clock!" he ordered, and she hesitated, but did so, the green glow of her attack providing another moment of illumination, as it took out the five Stabbykeets that were running for them, the last two having been hidden before.

That or they were multiplying.

And the Not-Light had been so bright, he realized, that it'd been like its own dawn, which meant everything was waking up, and they were cranky.

Pushing forward, in the far, far distance, there was a flash of light, only seen in how it momentarily lit up the still iron-hard skies, a blue-green radiance that told him that they were going the right way, but also that they weren't the only ones in danger either.

He didn't stop, pushing forward, but the monsters weren't the singles and pairs of before, they were moving in groups, Anna, realizing the danger minimized casting, as the two of them ran, Rendcats quick on the pounce, but couldn't keep up if they missed, and Hookpaw packs melted back into the darkness when Dylan took out the leader, but he very quickly ran out of bullets, forcing one last reload by swiping his weapon over his bloody, but no longer bleeding, face, but only getting two more shots from it.

Two shots that were spent almost immediately, because Anna kept standing still to cast, which left her vulnerable, but he was watching her back, as she cleared the way.

Until he couldn't.

She was ahead of him, always ahead of him, and, as a hissing, clicking swarm of Omukiddies surged towards them, and she turned, letting loose another ribbon, a pair of Boltjaws, pink eyes like beacons in the dark, surged forward towards her, as his own weapon clicked dry.

So he sprinted, putting everything into the run, to reach her in time, shoving her out of the way, as the pair pounced, one dying to his axe, but the other clamped down on his leg, hard, and ground its teeth into his left calf.

He screamed in pain even as his [Job] kept him on task, shoving both weapons down as he fell, his axe slipping inside its mouth, between its now bloody teeth, and twisting to force it open, as his revolver slapped his own wound, another spike of pulling agony throbbing in the limb, as-

Whirr-tik-tik-tik

It reloaded, and he pulled the trigger, blasting the monster's head apart, and freeing himself.

"Dylan!" Annabeth cried, as he pulled himself free, sighting on the pack of Hookpaws that'd retreated, had been waiting for an opportunity, and now surged forward, and which now died in a hail of crimson light, the gun, for better or worse, reloaded a moment later.

He struggled to his feet, his girlfriend helping him, and tried to take a step, leg almost buckling, but, but he could put some weight on it, [Courier] feeding him how to keep going. "On this side," he directed, and, after a moment's hesitation, as he turned and shot something large, and flying, that he'd never seen before, hearing it crashing into the trees behind them, she supported him, and they kept going.

Every other step hurt, a lot, but he shoved it to the back of his mind, and focused on the now, their slower speed meaning they couldn't get away as fast, but also meant they weren't stumbling into monsters quite as fast either. Unfortunately the eyes glowing in the dark around them told him the things hunting them now knew they were vulnerable.

A crimson shot into a Stabbykeet pack sent them running away, though only one was truly moving like a chicken with its head taken off.

Boltjaws rushed them again, and he was brought up short as Anna sent a cutting ribbon at them, almost falling as she stopped abruptly, wishing she would stop doing that, but now wasn't the time to try and fix that, they just needed to keep going.

Rain, nor shine, nor dark of Night, some part of him thought through the pain, an unexpected benefit of [Courier] keeping him centered as he tried to 'deliver' the two of them to the Caravan, the framing helping the [Job] guide him better, as they pressed on, but, as they did so, there were just more and more Monsters.

"Dylan?" Annabeth asked, terrified, and he did his best to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, though he had to whirl about to shoot a leaping Rendcat, not stopping.

"We're gonna make it," he reassured her, hoping he was right. "Just gotta stick together. Like Mr. West said. Just watch each others-Gah," he gasped, a step sending a line of pain from his leg, up through his spine, into his brain, but he pushed through that too, "each other's backs. Three O'clock!"

At his order, she let go of him and turned to look right, saw the Hookpaws, and sent another wave of magic at them, slicing apart half and deterring the others, before quickly moving to his side as they kept going.

Massively slowed, they just had to keep going, had to at least get close enough for Carl or someone to be in range, and the distant sounds of fighting, the noise bouncing off the trees, sounding like it was coming from every direction, told him that they only had to deal with what was right here, not the entire freaking forest.

She took a deep breath, and nodded, as they pushed on, more monsters coming, him shooting some, her taking most, with him refilling from his still bleeding calf when she worked, until, casting, she staggered, out of mana.

But he'd prepared for this, after last time, and pulled the mana potion he'd requisitioned with some of his contributions from foraging, and handed it to her, his girlfriend's relief visible as she drank the faintly glowing liquid, and he covered her back, an Omukiddy trying to burrow up out of the ground behind her, and taken out before it'd fully finished emerging.

Then they were back to moving, the trees blurring together, the monsters blurring together, only his [Job] able to tell him that they were getting closer, that they just needed to keep going, and they'd make it, the sounds of fighting getting louder, of distant crackles of lightning, shatterings of ice, roarings of fire, of gunfire, and battle-cries, and a deep gong whose rippling not-color of magic told him he was going in the right direction as it propagated, even as Anna couldn't see it, as he reassured her that they were getting closer.

But they were getting hurt.

A Rendcat's claws tore up his arm, as two leapt at once, and he prioritized taking out the one jumping for her, as did she. A hookpaw managed to hook his leg, thankfully the already injured one, giving him a deep cut across the outside of his thigh, which let him reload easier, even as he felt a little light-headed from the blood-loss, telling Anna not to heal him, because she needed her magic for her attacks, and he needed the blood-flow for his.

And, despite his best efforts, she was getting hurt too, most glancing blows, a Boltjaw latching onto her arm, but its teeth got caught on her bracelet, allowing him to take its head off as it paused, confused, her skin only torn a little, which she healed as they kept going.

They left a trail of monster-corpses behind them, Dylan feeling a little delirious, when something large charged, and he turned, seeing an Ashback coming, just like before, but this one was enraged, a mohawk of flame running along its length, lighting up the forest around them.

Anna froze, starting to cast, but he knew what she could do, and her attacks cut, they didn't stop mass.

He shoved her to the side, yelling, "Come on, you pre-cooked bacon!" catching its attention, and tried to dodge himself, but, of course, his leg was messed up, so barely managed to miss its tusks, which glowed a dull yellow, like iron from a forge, and was still sent flying, like he'd been hit by a furry truck, that was also on fire.

He hit a tree, and nearly dropped his gun as his arm lanced with pain, the limb breaking, or maybe just fracturing, as he hit the ground, trying to roll, managing to get up, only for his leg to give out, as he fell, turning and unloading everything he had on the Ashback, that turned around itself. Thankfully Dylan got a lucky shot, through its eye, dropping it, the flame along its back winking out.

"Anna, you okay?" he called, looking to her, as he tried to get up, his phone having gone flying, now off in the woods a bit, showing a Stabbykeet that stepped over it, which paused, lit from below, confused.

"Y-Yeah," she replied, unsteady, as she got up, as he tried to stand, hissing in pain as he realized his left side was burned, the shock of the sudden pain causing him to lock up, his jacket scorched, because while he hadn't touched the fire directly, he hadn't needed to.

But he couldn't stop here, couldn't stop, if only for Anna, as he furiously thought, trying to find a way to keep going, his [Jobs] unsure, but [Courier] helped him figure out a plan.

Whirr-tik-tik-tik

And, good news, he had more bullets!

Laughing a little, from the pain if anything, he looked up, and spotted a Boltjaw trying to move itself into charging position, the pink eyes not helping it be stealthy, a shot taking it out, but revealing there were a lot of Monsters closing in on them.

"Okay, Anna, I'm gonna need your help," he told her. "Gonna need you to hold onto me, kinda carry me, really, but we can make it work, my Mana's still full, we'll trade weapons, you can reload from me, and I can just blast everything while we go with your wand," Dylan smiled grimly.

The Stabbykeets by his phone took the moment to charge, and, dropping his axe, he concentrated on his phone, which was, of course, right in his hand, so it was, shining the light on them enough to make them stumble, even as he winced, as, yeah, bone was fractured, but two more shots took out all three birds, since they lined up for him. Turning back, he saw his girlfriend hadn't moved, and was just staring at him.

"Anna?" he asked, unsure, trying to keep an eye out, seeing some more Hookpaws, shooting them, then pressing his gun to his burned side, hissing in pain as it reloaded, as he felt exhausted, but, but if they had the same perimeter as before, it'd only be seventeen minutes to get there at their speed, even with her mostly carrying him, which… sounded like a lot, but, but they could do it. "Anna, kinda need some help here," he tried to prod her gently, trying to struggle to his feet anyways, leg buckling, but he got to one knee, so, progress.

And she just stood there, and, and was crying?

"Anna, what's wrong?" he questioned reflexively, when, duh. "Anna, come on," he urged. "I've only got so much blood, and you've only got so much Mana."

But… But she just stood there.

"Anna?" he asked, trying to focus on her, which meant, of course, he missed the Boltjaw that had set itself up behind him, the small bear only heard by its heavy footfalls, as he tried to turn, and fire, but twisted wrong, and went down, but fired twice, his first shot actually enough, but he panicked, sue him, only for the Monster's corpse to still slam into him, driving him fully to the ground, with it on top of him.

"Anna! Help!" he urged, seeing another freaking Omukiddy emerging, and, shooting past her, making her flinch, he took it out too. And, and she just stood there.

"Anna, please, we need to move," he begged, taking his eyes off her to try and shift the Boltjaw off him, having to grit his teeth as he forced his scorched, fractured arm in place to leverage it off.

"Dyl… I'm sorry."

"What?" he asked, jerking his head around, as Anna…

Anna was running.

Anna was leaving him behind.

For a moment, it didn't compute, didn't make sense, until-

"ANNA, NO!" he yelled, but, while she flinched, as she ran far, far faster than he could, and she didn't look back.

"ANNA! STOP! ANNA!" he cried out, desperately, not thinking, just- "ANNA! THE CARAVAN'S THE OTHER WAY!"

Because… Because even if she did leave him, he, he still wanted her to be safe.

But she didn't respond, didn't come back, maybe didn't even hear him, at the end, and she was gone.

And, looking around, the Monsters started to close.

And, and some part of him, he wanted to let them.

But, but, maybe she'd come back, maybe she'd have second thoughts, and, and he needed to survive for her to have someone to come back to, and then they'd have a talk, but, but he would survive.

For her.

Refilling his gun, he took a deep breath, and fired into the air, once, twice, then three times, the crimson shots like bleeding flares, so she could know which way to go back to, as he forced himself to sit up, muscles aching, his free hand useless for wielding his axe, so he grabbed his phone instead, turned the brightness to full, and, as the next set of Hookpaws ran, so he turned, and fired, the Stabbykeets coming from behind blinded by the light in his other hand long enough for him to turn and shoot them too.

And then he didn't stop.

Monsters came, Monsters died, as his world shrank to that clearing, trying not to move, but having to roll as an Omukiddy tried to burrow up right below him, killing it, another he missed biting him, sinking its poison into his leg before he killed it, though, listening to his [Job], he shoved his revolver into the hissing wound.

Those bullets were a sickly green, and left a trail of foul smelling smoke that made him cough, but the things he shot spasmed as they died, causing others to pull back, and his own wound stopped hurting as much, only getting a few moments before more Monsters came, and he wasted another shot upwards, so Anna could find him, and kept going.

When his wounds closed up, a boltjaw came, so he lashed out with a limp kick, as it latched onto the limb, tearing into it, and he thanked it for its service by using the bloodflow to take its head off, using that blood to keep firing, his only saving grace being that they came at him in small packs, despite there being, just, so many, each set almost waiting their turn, which was polite of them.

His head swam, and his thoughts started to slide, but he kept firing, leg wound closing, but he had a dead Stabbykeet next to him so he rolled over, and, with a jerk, sliced his fractured arm on its serrated beak, getting a new source, sending another bullet skyward, as he kept firing, the corpses making it hard to draw a bead on them, but started to make choke points, which he then filled with more corpses, choking the choke points, which made him laugh, almost manically, wondering what was taking Anna so long?

But he'd wait.

He'd wait as long as he needed to.

As long as he could.

His gun ran dry, it wouldn't load, so he cut himself again, a third time, a fourth?

He wasn't sure, but, but it didn't matter.

Another shot up, and then one in another of those bird things, the ones with six wings, but no eyes on them, which he felt oddly disappointed by, one crashing into the pile of bodies nearby, its blue-green plumage causing the bodies to ice over a bit, the coolness kind of refreshing actually, as a Boltjaw crested a different pile of corpses, and was added to it, and, and his gun wasn't firing, so he cut himself again, as he felt tired.

So tired.

But he had to keep going, even as his eyelids felt heavy, as he, he needed to deliver some more bullets, his [Courier] twitching a bit at that, but it worked? He also found himself watching, not just the monsters, but the bits of Mana in them, which moved a half-second before they did, [Thaumic Scrutineer] shifting slightly in his chest as his unfocused eyes tracked what they'd do, and met them mid-motion with a crimson bullet.

And as for [Handyman]?

He was building one hell of a defensive wall, made with self-delivering materials, for him and Anna to hide out in, until help came.

"Hey, Malik, I think I get it now," he slurred, exhausted, firing, and firing, and firing, and firing.

Until his gun ran dry.

And he tried to cut himself again.

But, but his arm was so heavy, he just kind of rubbed against the… oh, the beak was kinda a mess, so, a roll, as Hookpaws howled and charged, to the dead Rendcat, and, it was hard, but he cut himself on that too, having to lean against a dead Boltjaw to sit upright, the gun heavy from overuse, but he propped it up, to take them out.

Struggled to send another flare up.

For… for Anna.

And then there was a bellow, as a bonfire came over the hill, and, oh, another Ashback.

Struggling to lift his gun, which had gotten so heavy it was hard to even pull the trigger, because, like, magic or something, there was a flash of purple from the side, and it grew an arrow, and died.

"By the Goddess!"

A man in purple was suddenly on top of the hill, and Dylan almost shot him too, out of habit, but it was…

It was…

It was someone from the Caravan, which meant…

A shot of adrenaline, one he didn't know he had left, surged through him, as he sat up, and yelled out, or tried to, his voice too soft, no matter how loud he tried to be, "Anna! She went that way! Go get her!"

The archer leapt down, as a woman with a crackling sword came up to where he was, the man going, "We need to bring you back firs-"

"NO!" Dylan yelled, didn't they understand!? "LEAVE ME! GO GET HER!"

But they weren't listening, so, struggling, he lifted his revolver, and pointed it at them, though it was so heavy, it was hard to keep straight. "SHE NEEDS HELP!"

The archer hesitated, then asked, "Which way?"

Laughing in relief, Dylan pointed, and the armored woman took off, moving so fast she was just a crackling blur, which, which…

Good.

Help was coming.

He…

He could…

Rest.

CLICK

​

 

[Orphiex]

Well, that's one way to write her out of the story. Or at least the relationship. Guess we'll see what happens next.

 

[Skaeling]

Yeah, that wasn't a good look, but he's a young man in love. If she argues that she panicked, then he'd probably take her back.

Assuming she lives after running off in the wrong direction.

 

[vladspellbinder]

Someone needs to explain to Dylan what is going on with Kyle, though with that ending it may not matter. I really hope Anna died from this shit. Yeah she's young and panicked and all that other stuff but that just means she didn't have what it takes and in this world that sort of shit gets you and others killed. Dylan's too nice of a guy to drop her over this and Anna is too much of a self centered bitch to break off the relationship herself so if she survived this Dylan would take her back and she doesn't deserve him.

Fuck.

I just want to see Kyle and Anna both gone already I fucking hate them both so fucking much. So here's hoping they both died from this mess.

Thanks for the chapter.

 

[Rotceh]

Wow...that got out of hand really fast...I wonder if she's dead or just fled.

 

[Arkon]

from one of his Manga, this one called BLANCH, all caps apparently, named Yorumichi, the 'Goddess of the Dash'.

Click to shrink...

What's going on with the references?
A couple sentences ago there was mentioning of Captain America and now YoruMichi from BLANCH.

Why the mix up? In previous chapters too I remember things like this.

 

[ThumperOne]

What's going on with the references?
A couple sentences ago there was mentioning of Captain America and now YoruMichi from BLANCH.

Why the mix up? In previous chapters too I remember things like this.

Click to shrink...

It's common in some media to avoid real trademarks and instead use substitutes to avoid legal issues. Like characters in a superhero setting such as Marvel or DC to have their own comic book series in-universe the similar to but different from real world ones, or TV shows or films not wanting to have real brands on-screen. It's common enough that sometime writers like to play with the concept and use fake trademarks that are clearly representing real things (like Blanch instead of Bleach) even though it's not actually a legal issue in this context. I enjoy it myself - there's always something funny about a fake brand or IP reference where you know exactly what it really is.

Edit: there's a good video from a props guy about an example for TV: https://youtu.be/OA42ZSO8-Yc?is=V6RdymcGkWQY182U

 

[Arkon]

It's common in some media to avoid real trademarks and instead use substitutes to avoid legal issues. Like characters in a superhero setting such as Marvel or DC to have their own comic book series in-universe the similar to but different from real world ones, or TV shows or films not wanting to have real brands on-screen. It's common enough that sometime writers like to play with the concept and use fake trademarks that are clearly representing real things (like Blanch instead of Bleach) even though it's not actually a legal issue in this context. I enjoy it myself - there's always something funny about a fake brand or IP reference where you know exactly what it really is.

Click to shrink...

Yeah I know that, my point is why the switching between real brands and fake ones.

 

[ThumperOne]

Yeah I know that, my point is why the switching between real brands and fake ones.

Click to shrink...

Lee said he was wavering on whether to replace all references or not bother:

Because I was wavering on the 'do I keep the names the same' thing, and, in publication, it might be something else like 'Professor Who' to keep the joke.

Click to shrink...

 

[darkli4n]

Anna can heal basically scratches on herself but Dylan who's really needs it she doesn't heal even just his leg.

 

[Aela]

Great chapter. Good unreliable narrator portrayal here. Looking forward to seeing how you push the drama Dylan learning.

I think the distinct speaking patterns between characters help with keeping them straight in my head. There's a lot of them and it's not easy. Anything you do to aid that is appreciated as a reader.

Also happy with Malik in the past few chapters and the friendship between him and Dylan. Hoping to see a close friendship develop here and I'm curious how you would portray it.

 

[WiseMack]

Am I the only one thinking their relationship is far too dysfunctional to be natural?
I have been waiting for several chapters for someone to point out that Dylan is being brainwashed/mind controlled.

 

[TheManWithoutAPlan]

"It's Bartholomew," the nerdy boy corrected, but seemed to be better off for the reassurance. "You also can't accidentally turn yourself inside out with electricity. But… That makes sense."

Click to shrink...

You kinda can. Not specifically but it can indeed get that bad.

He stood there, trying to process, as Anna, fumbling, brought out her phone, turning on its flashlight, even as…

Click to shrink...

I wonder, is there a skygazer job given the inherent resilience required? Astronomers that can see the nd of the day and night? People who can process that eldritch sky?

 

[vladspellbinder]

Am I the only one thinking their relationship is far too dysfunctional to be natural?
I have been waiting for several chapters for someone to point out that Dylan is being brainwashed/mind controlled.

Click to shrink...

I'm sorry to say but no, this is a very normal male teenager "always forgive the girlfriend on the chance I can get my dick wet" mindset.
Just because I wasn't a normal male teenager didn't mean I wasn't friends with many of them. I just never understood why they'd go so far out of the way for their girlfriends.

I've never found what is going on with Dylan and Anna and Kyle and the rest to be unrealistic just a bit infuriating because people, even more so teenagers, can be infuriating with their lack of proper communication about things.

 

[Slake Mothman]

You know, when @Leecifer mentioned Dylan having serious golden retriever energy, I really didn't think much of it aside from it being a funny little bit of set dressing. But Holy Hank Hill on a Hamburger is it coming out in full force this chapter! (Should've known that was foreshadowing something.) The little moments of Anna being oddly standoffish to Dylan and him just optimistically brushing it off are fully actualized here in just about the most maladaptive way I could think of. It's a nice change of pace from Lee's usual hyper-vigilant self-inserts and I find I'm really enjoying seeing him write a different kind of MC.

This is showing itself to be an excellent jumping-off point for the character and I can't wait to see his slow descent into jaded cynicism! Or even better, how he resists it.
-----

Then, as one, the Suns disappeared, plunging the world into darkness, Anna, ahead of him, stumbling and falling to the ground in surprise, having tripped over a root, while he was too far back to catch her, though he didn't stop, and, getting to her a few seconds later, as she struggled to get up, he reached down and picked her up, putting her on her feet, as, around them, the howl of Boltjaws and other things rang out, and, from the ground, a long, black, Omukiddy burst up, and headed right for them.

The three foot long venomous centipede was apparently the dwarf version of a much larger, much nastier Copper-tier monster, with no real harvestable parts without the proper jobs, but also the kind of thing that only hunted at nightfall.

Which… it apparently was now.

Without hesitating, Dylan pulled his axe, and, timing it, swung as it leapt for him, burying it in the giant insects face-plate as he stepped aside, like a matador, killing it and letting it fly past him, the poison dripping from its jaws missing him to sizzle slightly as it hit the grass.

"We need to go," he said, more to himself than Anna, and she nodded, before the skies shone with a terrible not-light.

Even at 'night', the Farweald was lit up, the faint glow through the clouds of what he was pretty sure wasn't the moon letting them walk around without the need for a light, once their eyes adjusted, which, he only now realized, they hadn't had time to, the world unusually bright, but that illumination wasn't what was letting them see.

It was something else.

And it was growing.

But it… wasn't light.

Looking up, a bit of faintly back-lit clouds, off in the distance, started to glow black, looking at it not making him nauseous like the Suns of Day, but he almost locked up, every hair on the back of his neck rising, as the light grew, but the colors faded.

The brighter the world became, the more washed out everything else was, the sounds of Monsters quieting down around them, lost as well, until the Farweald was an eye searing monochrome, every shadow razor-edged, as the world itself seemed to hold its breath.

Until the clouds exploded downwards.

Something was coming through the Veil, with a screech that scratched the corners of his mind, so much Mana pouring off it, he could barely breathe, something within the mass of billowing cloud, not spinning like a twister, but touching down all the same, and, through the churning mass of grey, he thought he saw a wing, covered in eyes, in a color that he wanted to call black, but it wasn't, it was the color you saw when you closed your eyes, filled with static, and bleeding wistfulness, before a stabbing in the back of his head forced him to look away for a moment, his face warm.

The cry echoed out again, this time angry, offended, the sound tearing into his soul, and, forcing himself to look, trying to focus, to not see the magic, the churning clouds tightened, solidified, around a shape he couldn't define, before, moving as if in reverse, the Veil retracted, taking whatever it was with it, even as it fought the process, a single claw momentarily visible, larger than any cart in their Caravan, covered in swirling serrations and ripping the air itself, leaving squirming wounds in the world, before it was gone.

Click to shrink...

God, this is such great eldritch horror writing, I'm a real sucker for a proper reality-shredding monster. After a couple chapters of seeing what the higher-end of adventurers look like, this thing drops out of nowhere to casually show us that Dylan's an itty bitty minnow swimming in a tank with barracudas while fucking dinosaurs are wandering around outside looking in, ready to devour them all but for a thin pane of glass keeping the fish 'safe'.

 

[Leecifer]

Chapter Twelve: Post Mortem

​

Consciousness slowly returned, limping to him, as weak as Dylan felt.

He thought he was sore before, but now every breath pulled at lines of hot pain in his body, from his face to his legs. Yet, at the same time, despite the discomfort, some small part of him refused to let himself retreat from it, pushing him forward, to open his eyes. Dylan took in the ceiling above him, lying in a cart he didn't know.

"Good, you're awake, I'm sure you have questions."

Dylan looked over, seeing Quill, seated beside his bed, the man with a book open, a pen in his hand, several pieces of paper floating beside him which drifted into the book, that was then snapped shut.

"How," the boy tried to ask, his throat so scratchy it stopped him from continuing as, leaning over, the thin looking man helped him sit up, giving him a glass of water with a straw. Dylan drank that quickly, coughing a little, but feeling better for it, the Calculant then handing him a vial full of faintly glowing red liquid that the young man drank as well, feeling his numerous aches and pains, not disappear entirely, but blunted, and lessened. "How's Anna doing?" he questioned, successfully this time.

Quill looked at him, gaze assessing, before stating, tone uncharacteristically kind, "She died."

Dylan sat there, and felt… nothing. No, not nothing, just a numb… emptiness. "Oh." For a long moment, he was silent, as Quill waited, before asking, "Did, did the others, did anyone…"

"Several of your cohort were hurt quite badly, though none others perished," the older man stated. "Malik lost an arm, but Hark authorized the resources to regrow it."

Taking that in, the Raider questioned, "Was it fast?"

"Not in a meaningful sense," Quill stated, "The regeneration-"

"No," Dylan interrupted. "Anna. Did. Did she… suffer?"

Once more the other man paused, "I cannot state for certain, though the type of Monsters we faced, none are the type known to draw out a kill."

Processing that, the student questioned, "What, what was it? That came down. What was that?"

"We are not sure," Quill informed him, in tones that suggested he found such an answer personally distasteful. "Such events are in our records, and as such we possess policies for a Veil Breach. For failed ones, as you likely perceived, the policy is to immediately fortify the position and defend against the initial overwhelming wave of every hidden monster in the area emerging at once. The anchor is deployed, and emergency measures are enacted, so that any caught out away have a fallback location to return to. Once the initial wave has passed, then, and only then, is support sent to attempt to retrieve any that survive."

Giving Dylan a serious look, the math wizard informed him, "In the event of a successful Veil Breach, we would've run, we would've all run, as fast as we could, as far as we could, and prayed that we might survive, for at that point only luck would determine our fate. After three days, if the Caravan survived, we would not have returned, but we would have sent search parties, in the unlikely event that any had not perished completely. As to what the being was, no one knows, our records distressingly metaphorical, stating only that it is death, disaster, and madness given corporeal form."

Dylan couldn't help himself, he gave out a dry, bitter laugh, stating, "Didn't expect death to have so many eyes."

Rather than laugh, though, Quill went utterly still. "You are stating that you perceived the source of the Veil Breach?"

Unsure, the Raider nodded, "Yeah, a little. It was mostly behind clouds. Just saw a wing, and a claw, and they had eyes, and that was it."

With a sharp flick of his wrist, a spiral of light emerged from the Calculant's hand, lines of radiance running up and down Dylan's body, as he sat there, confused, until the older man was done, seeming like someone who had received good news, and was not happy about it. "By our records, as a Lead Ranker, seeing the source of a Veil Breach, you should be irrevocably insane. Do you have any urges to consume human flesh, split your tongue to better speak the secret names of existence, or tear apart your skin and flesh to reveal your true form?"

"…no?" Dylan replied, now starting to worry.

However Quill sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose above his rune-scribed glasses. "Outlanders." Opening his book once more, his pen appearing out of nowhere, the man continued, "I have been to the site of your, fortuitously, not last stand. The site is more befitting of an Iron, or a particularly incompetent Bronze. For the record, if you could state what occurred?"

The question took the Raider aback, but, he supposed, it was a good enough one. "I, in the middle it all kind of, kind of… ran together."

Lifting a single eyebrow, the older man stated, "Try."

Haltingly he did so, about what they'd seen, about how they'd tried to return, Dylan burned by the Ashback, chewed on by a Boltjaw, and Anna… left. To get to safety. To… go get help. But that she'd, she went the wrong way, and she was gone before he could warn her.

Quill repeatedly slowly, "To get help."

"Yeah!" Dylan responded quickly, even as he felt the words turn sour in his mouth, but, "I held out. I kept holding out. Long enough for Thrain's friends to come. If, if she'd gone the right way, then they would've gotten to me sooner. If she'd, if she'd just gone the right way. If she'd…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes," The Calculant noted dryly, "and she would surely know that you would." Letting the statement sit for a moment, the man then moved on, "You have been in a healing coma for a week, and the Caravan has not moved. We have been quite busy harvesting the unexpected bounty from the monsters who offered themselves up to our defenses, as well as taking what we can from the touch-down zone of the Veil Breacher. It has warped the land to such a degree that only Bronzes such as myself, Vey, and Maude can spend longer than twenty minutes within it without suffering serious damage, however the Silver Grade materials we are gathering are more than making up for what we have lost."

The statement, the uncaringness of it, punched through Dylan's numbness, leaving raw pain, as he looked upon the man, and practically snarled, "What you've lost!?"

However, Quill merely nodded, eyes sharp, but not cold. "Your paramour was not the only mortality, young man. We lost a dozen others, as the Caravan had less than a minute to prepare, before monsters emerged within our midst, and every Iron and Lead Wrought without a combat focus was effectively helpless before the attack, an attack several orders of magnitude far worse than what you suffered. Furthermore, nearly a hundred were injured, like your friends, and not all received the support Malik has, given their Iron Wrought status. The Caravan has lost a great deal, Annabeth merely one of many the improbable disaster has taken from us."

At that, the Raider felt his anger stall, because, because they'd lost people too. Of course they had. And now he was just… tired. "What should I do next?" he questioned, feeling lost.

Closing his book and standing, the Quartermaster stated, "As soon as you are able, rise; gather your gear, it has been repaired and can be found at the foot of your bed; return to the others, who are in similar states as yourself, even if they do not show it; and grow stronger, so that you will not again be left behind while someone… goes to get help." Looking away, the Calculant stated, "In this world of shattered lands, with its bastions of false peace amongst the chaos, it is all one can do."

With that the old man moved to leave, but Dylan called out, asking, "Did I, did I do the right thing?"

Pausing, Quill did not turn around, and replied, "Despite my [Job], I have long ago learned there is never one single 'right' thing. Only the variables that one chooses, and has to live with. The better query is do you believe you did the best you could? Answer that, and you shall either sleep soundly, or know what to improve upon for the next time a crisis arises, I care not which."

And with that the man was gone, leaving Dylan to his thoughts.

<SB>​

Dylan slowly walked through the Caravan, the area full of activity, but there was no sense of excitement, not even energy, just… people doing things, because they needed to, not because they wanted to.

He could relate.

The area had been cleared, but his [Handyman] showed him the damage done, the repairs that'd mostly been completed, and, looking carefully, his [Bloodshot Raider] let him reconstruct the battle, and…

Monsters had come from everywhere. He and Ann- he'd seen it, before, during the Night, creatures stepping out of nothing, but they'd been moving fast, clearing a path, not trying to stand and fight. If they had…

He had, had made his own walls, but, even then, some had gotten close. He hadn't been thinking about it, had barely been thinking at all, but, seeing what was around him, there was no defense against it, no walls, just… fighting, and trying to survive.

Walking towards where he'd been told the others were, he found them gathered together, meeting up for breakfast before their jobs for the cycle. Logan saw him first, offering a tired wave which caught the others' attention, all turning to look at him.

"You!" Kyle spat, stalking towards Dylan, the Raider catching the unhidden aggression, but also how, this time, the other guy was unarmed. The punch wasn't subtle, wasn't even skilled. Compared to the monsters he'd fought, it practically ambled towards him, and Dylan let it hit, reflexively tightening his muscles to absorb the punch to the stomach which picked him up and threw him backwards, not rolling back up when he hit the ground, just looking up at the taller boy as the others yelled.

"If she'd been with me," his attacker sneered, "she would've lived!"

Which… hurt.

Especially because it might've been true.

That's what caused Dylan to stop, and think, because, because Kyle's job as Champion was about rallying. He wasn't as good at fighting as Dylan was, wasn't even close, but, it didn't matter how strong Dylan was, didn't matter how much he'd been able to hold out, when…

When Annabeth hadn't listened.

At least long enough to tell her to, to leave him, and go the right way.

"Well!?" Kyle challenged, the others coming up behind him, Malik looking like he was trying to hype himself up to charge the athlete. "Don't just sit there, say something!"

"You're right," he agreed, nodding, not standing. "If it'd been you, Anna might've stayed long enough to listen, before she ran to, to go get help, while you stayed behind."

The other man stared at him, unsure, jerking forward, as if he was going to kick Dylan, but Dylan didn't move, the pain of the strike, some part of him whispered, what he deserved. Instead Kyle stopped, and instead promised, "I won't forget this."

Looking up, meeting the other man's eyes, Dylan laughed, once, the idea absurd. "You think I will?"

For a moment, Kyle struggled with himself, before he turned away, stalking through the carts, without a look back. Amy followed the Champion, as she always did. Kristen gave Dylan a searching look, as he sat there, on the ground, each breath grinding something deep in his chest, not an injury, at least not a physical one, as he tried to keep himself level, mostly succeeding, before the nerdy girl turned to go after Kyle as well. Bartholomew, looking conflicted, looked at Dylan, and told him, quietly, though loud enough for all to hear, "Sorry for your, uh, loss," before hurrying off after the other three.

Sam took a few steps towards Dylan, before Logan stopped her, because the Raider was… having trouble, but, after a few seconds, he was able to settle himself, standing, dusting himself off.

"How are you guys?" he asked, preemptively. "Malik, I heard you lost an arm?"

The dark skinned boy blinked, seeming a little embarrassed. "Y-Yeah! There was this big lizard thing with impenetrable skin. It, it was kinda bad, but, well, it didn't have any scales in its mouth! So I pulled a Gocu and shot it there, which only kind of worked, and then it went after me, so I shot it again, so then it bit down on my arm, and, well, if my hand was there, might as well shoot it again! And third time was the charm! Bit off my arm as it died though. But my healing magic stopped me from bleeding, so I didn't die…" he trailed off, wincing. "Sorr-"

"It's good you didn't," Dylan interrupted. "And being able to stop bleeding sounds useful. My own magic needs me to, so, yeah."

Sam spoke up, offering, awkwardly, "We're glad you survived!"

"Same," he agreed, even if he didn't really feel like it. "I just wish Anna had too. Or even instead…"

"Sam got a combat job," Val suggested, speaking up, rather than letting his statement sit. "Bout time too."

The theatre girl perked up. "Oh, yeah, I did!" Holding out a hand, a spark formed, before expanding outwards into a faintly crackling dagger. "I was fighting, and needing to fight, but, but I kind of lost my dagger, and I wanted a new one, so I… made it? I'm a [Levinarm]!"

The word washed over him, and gave him something to focus on, which he was grateful for, as he tried to figure it out, made harder by the fact that it sounded like a type of baker, but, "You're… armed with lightning?" he questioned, getting a nod from her.

"Yeah! Takes a bit of magic to make, and some focus, but once it's shaped it works, and," she added excitedly, swinging the dagger forward, the energy crackling as it suddenly extended, just for a moment, becoming a full sword, before snapping back to the six-inch blade. "But it's harder to keep it stretched out."

"Probably will get easier when you rank it up," he offered. "Until then, keep practicing?"

Sam smiled, nodding, as he looked at the others. "Val, Ivy, Logan, how are you?"

"Exploded some cats," the Hispanic girl offered. "They can't claw you if you hit them first."

Which meant reaching into the organic beartrap blender combo that was a Rendcat which… was impressive, and he gave her a nod of respect at that, looking at the others.

"I hid," Ivy admitted, casting her own magic, as the air around her seemed to shift, and she became somewhat translucent. "When everyone was fighting."

"Shot a bunch of Monsters while doing so," Logan added.

The Asian girl frowned, "While they attacked everyone else."

Dylan shook his head, "Helping others fight while not needing their help defending yourself? Sounds like a win. And you Logan?"

Ivy wanted to argue, but didn't, as the stoner mimed taking a hit, breathing out a long plume of purple smoke, which curled around his fingers like a snake, before he flicked it at Dylan, who moved to reflexively block it, feeling the fangs as twin points of pressure before the purple serpent came apart into dispersing smoke. "Had some tricks, some of 'em even worked. Mr. Aldric talks a lot, and it gave me some ideas."

There was a moment of silence, before Malik asked, "So, what do we do now?"

Everyone understood what he really meant, not talking about the cycle's tasks. "Quill told me we needed to get stronger," Dylan replied, "in case, no, so we are ready the next time something happens."

"That's gonna happen again?" the nerdy boy gasped, but the Raider shook his head.

"No, Quill said that was rare, really rare, but there's more out there," he replied.

"What even was that?" Ivy questioned. "We asked, but no one's talking. Most don't know either."

Dylan thought about the question, "Quill called it a Veil Breach which means… which means there's more on the other side. And if that's what's there, we're… we're a long way from being ready to try to get back home."

"You saw it?" Sam questioned, interested.

"You didn't?" he replied, but everyone shook their head. "Oh. It was… weird. Alien. But also kinda like… you know those 'biblically accurate angel' pictures? Like their bigger, stranger cousins."

Ivy gave him annoyed look, "That doesn't tell me anything. That just means it had wings and eyes."

"And serrated claws that cut the air," Dylan agreed. "Not sure how that works, but… Hark and the others were scared of it, we should be glad it didn't make it here."

No one had a response to that, and the gong sounded, for the shift change, everyone grabbing their trays, as well as the ones that Kyle and the others left behind, to drop them off, Dylan just grabbing a hand-pie, this one tasting like it was made with Stabbykeet meat, and headed to work himself.

Mrs. Makaweo told him he could take the day off, but he shook his head, telling the Foreman that he'd really rather work. She studied him, nodded, then informed him that there was still a lot of work to do, several of the carts still with structural damage that needed to be repaired to give a consistent substrate for the Rune-Boys to work their magic on. The compressed spaces of several of the carts were slowly failing, not crushing everything inside, not ejecting it either, but they were slowly shrinking. While the critical ones had been taken care of, others had been partially emptied, and they'd work on those to halt the damage, until they got to the next Bastion and got access to proper workshops.

Part of the 'bounty' the Caravan had been gathering after the attack would go to pay for the repairs, but they were all still going to get a bonus when they made it to safety, which helped keep everyone in okay spirits.

Thankfully, the work was hard, not just physically, but mentally, Dylan straining the limits of his [Job], which meant he had no time to think of anything else, lunch was delivered so they didn't stop. He was okay to keep going beyond his shift, but was told, gently, that doing so wasn't allowed outside of emergencies, because the mistakes people made as they grew tired meant it wasn't worth it.

And, for better or worse, this emergency had passed.

He also saw the damage from more than what he fought, the more powerful Monsters having zeroed in on the caravan by the mass of sound, light, and heat that they made, as well as enticed by the more magical items they carried. Something with claws longer than his arm had torn deep into one of the Smithing carts, as it tried to eat the magical metals inside, while the worst he had to deal with were Ashbacks.

Picking up dinner, sitting with Malik, as Kyle, Amy, Kristen and Bartholomew made a point of sitting apart from him, with the rest of the group in the middle, as they refused to move, the food was tasteless, but he knew he needed it, so made sure to consume it all before heading to bed, but was unable to sleep.

Lying there, in the dark, well, mostly dark, Malik was on his phone, he remembered his thought of asking Anna if she wanted to share a room, and couldn't help it as the tears ran, glad no one could see him.

Trying to center himself, to find anything else to think of, he felt his [Job]s within his chest, or his soul, or whatever. Doing so, they… weren't separate anymore, but hung together, with thin strands of starlight connecting them, each seemingly symbolic of a way they worked together, most of them connected to his [Bloodshot Raider], his [Handyman] allowing him to 'disassemble' enemies, his [Courier] meant to deliver bullets to their destination, his [Thaumic Scrutineer] allowing him to better read and sight in on his foes. [Forager]'s thread ran the other way, indicative of how he used the axe his Raider specialized in wielding to better cut and collect the things he needed.

But now there was a new [Job], one that sat below the rest, thin streamers of starlight connecting it to all the others, and, as he focused on it, he felt… terrible.

As it was the one thing he wished he wasn't.

Quill and Vey hadn't been wrong about [Job]s, about how they were distillations of what you'd done, crystallized and recognized, but that made it worse, because, the one he now possessed?

[Survivor]

 

[Rotceh]

Good work

 

[Slake Mothman]

Quill looked at him, gaze assessing, before stating, tone uncharacteristically kind, "She died."
...
Once more the other man paused, "I cannot state for certain, though the type of Monsters we faced, none are the type known to draw out a kill."

Click to shrink...

Quill is certainly implying Anna was killed by monsters, but was she? Sounds like Anna was witnessed deserting and executed for it. Fair enough, I suppose. With how hostile their environment is, it is necessarily fucking paramount that one be able to rely their allies and trust that their back is covered or at the very least that their orders will be followed.

It's inevitable that Dylan will eventually figure it out (he's naive and optimistic, not dumb) and I'm very curious how he reacts to this fact when he discovers it.

 

[vladspellbinder]

"She died."

Click to shrink...

Well damn. At least Dylan doesn't have to put up with her games anymore. Did Kyle also bite it?

<snip> though none others perished,"

Click to shrink...

Well damn. Now we've still got to deal with his bullshit. I bet he's going to blame Dylan for Anna's death and not listen to what anyone else says about her being the one to abandon him.

"By our records, as a Lead Ranker, seeing the source of a Veil Breach, you should be irrevocably insane.

Click to shrink...

Weak ass bitches. It's just a Biblically Accurate Angel is all.
But text descriptions are one thing, actually seeing something like that is another.

Quill probably was the best person for Dylan to wake up to. No downplaying, just straight facts and numbers.

"If she'd been with me," his attacker sneered, "she would've lived!"

Click to shrink...

Yeah, fuck you Kyle. Go sit on a rusty spike and spin.

As it was the one thing he wished he wasn't.

Quill and Vey hadn't been wrong about [Job]s, about how they were distillations of what you'd done, crystallized and recognized, but that made it worse, because, the one he now possessed?

[Survivor]

Click to shrink...

Survivor's Guilt is one hell of a thing.

And [Survivor] is one hell of a Job. Take it Dylan, fold it all together into something that allows you to live and take that and thrive. This pain is temporary and you will be stronger for it.

Thanks for the chapter.

Quill is certainly implying Anna was killed by monsters, but she wasn't, was she? Sounds like Anna was witnessed deserting and executed for it. Fair enough, I suppose. With how hostile their environment is, it is necessarily fucking paramount that one be able to rely their allies and trust that their back is covered or at the very least that their orders will be followed.

It's inevitable that Dylan will eventually figure it out (he's naive and optimistic, not dumb) and I'm very curious how he reacts to this fact when he discovers it.

Click to shrink...

It has been mentioned a few times that anyone who wishes to leave can do so, but by doing so they forfeit any protection of The Caravan. Anna leaving Dylan behind and running off wouldn't be enough for her to be killed over. At worst she might not have been saved. But I honestly think it is just as it seems: She ran off in the wrong direction and didn't listen to Dylan when he told her so because she was blocking out his words. And since she ran in the wrong direction she got killed by monsters she couldn't escape from. Previous chapters had made it something of a point that Anna always started going the wrong way until Dylan told her which way to go. It was very subtle foreshadowing on her leaving him behind and getting herself killed because of her bad sense of direction.

 

[sperance]

It has been mentioned a few times that anyone who wishes to leave can do so, but by doing so they forfeit any protection of The Caravan. Anna leaving Dylan behind and running off wouldn't be enough for her to be killed over. At worst she might not have been saved. But I honestly think it is just as it seems: She ran off in the wrong direction and didn't listen to Dylan when he told her so because she was blocking out his words. And since she ran in the wrong direction she got killed by monsters she couldn't escape from. Previous chapters had made it something of a point that Anna always started going the wrong way until Dylan told her which way to go. It was very subtle foreshadowing on her leaving him behind and getting herself killed because of her bad sense of direction.

Click to shrink...

Yeah. However, my read on it is that the rescue group also didn't bother doing much to find Anna until the whole mess was over. While Dylan did ask them to go get her, when he pointed the direction she went on, it ws made obvious she'd fled and left Dylan to die. So the armored lady most likely simply waited until Dylan was out cold and doubled back to link with the group, ensuring everyone there would survive, rather than risk her life looking for someone who'd leave their lover in the lurch.

As you said, leaving only means you forfeit any protection of The Caravan. I feel that very much includes its members risking limb and life to rescue you.

 

[Drake]

It has been mentioned a few times that anyone who wishes to leave can do so, but by doing so they forfeit any protection of The Caravan. Anna leaving Dylan behind and running off wouldn't be enough for her to be killed over. At worst she might not have been saved.

Click to shrink...

They can leave the caravan whenever they wish, certainly, but that statement heavily implies that whenever is a time of calm and leaving includes her informing people of her decision to leave. This is considered so obvious to (most) people that it doesn't need to be stated explicitly.
Leaving without informing anyone would be a massive breach of norms as the caravan would be duty bound to search for her.
But leaving while under attack? You are part of the caravan and the caravan is duty bound to protect its members. She had a duty, she abandoned it. That's a major breach to trust punished by exile and informing everyone of the reason for her exile so they know she can't be trusted as an absolute minimum punishment. A minimum punishment that's probably reserved for those that are politically important or have distinguished themselves before, something Anna didn't. So yeah, execution is the most probable punishment.
The real question is if she survived long enough to be caught.

 

[SanityRebuilt]

It has been mentioned a few times that anyone who wishes to leave can do so, but by doing so they forfeit any protection of The Caravan. Anna leaving Dylan behind and running off wouldn't be enough for her to be killed over. At worst she might not have been saved. But I honestly think it is just as it seems: She ran off in the wrong direction and didn't listen to Dylan when he told her so because she was blocking out his words. And since she ran in the wrong direction she got killed by monsters she couldn't escape from. Previous chapters had made it something of a point that Anna always started going the wrong way until Dylan told her which way to go. It was very subtle foreshadowing on her leaving him behind and getting herself killed because of her bad sense of direction.

Click to shrink...

See, that'd be good, expect for that there was no indication that Anna wanted leave The Caravan, not from Anna and not from Dylan. By all accounts, she wanted to get back to it for safety. So the only remaining interpretations are what Dylan is saying, in which she was so eager to get help to Dylan that she ran off in the wrong direction without asking the man she ostensibly wanted to save and she knew he knew which way The Caravan was, and the obvious one of her deciding to leave him behind and running off while not listening to the man she's leaving to die to ease her shriveled conscience. Considering she should have had an inkling of the right direction from sheer dint of following it for more than fifteen minutes, it's kind of obvious which is it.

That said, even if we take the interpretation of Anna wanting to leave The Caravan, leaving while it's relatively safe and informing others is one thing, and leaving in the middle of a once in multiple generations catastrophe while informing only the severly injured lover you're leaving to die is a whole another mess, that'd be under different rules in most circumstances.

 

[gthesob]

It has been mentioned a few times that anyone who wishes to leave can do so, but by doing so they forfeit any protection of The Caravan. Anna leaving Dylan behind and running off wouldn't be enough for her to be killed over.

Click to shrink...

It might be if she ran off with their gear. Also, this wasn't a formal split but running off in combat which likely has different rules.

 

[vladspellbinder]

@sperance @Drake @SanityRebuilt @gthesob
My main point was that I don't think Anna's actions would lead to a summary execution like Slake Mothman was saying. Yes her leaving a comrade behind to die is a serious matter but she's also an inexperienced teenager who hasn't been trained how to deal with this level of shit. She's an Outlander, sheltered and naive and the only reason she's out in the wilds at all is because it's the only way she'll get any experience and it was considered to be somewhat safe as long as nothing outside of normal considerations happened. A Veil Breach is outside of normal considerations.

I'm not saying she'd not have faced serious consequences for leaving Dylan behind, I'm just saying that I don't think anyone from The Caravan killed her. The more likely scenario is what sperance was saying, where no one went looking for her until after things had calmed down and they found her body.

 

[Luke Dragneel]

My main point was that I don't think Anna's actions would lead to a summary execution like Slake Mothman was saying.

Click to shrink...

I agree, especially when you note how often Anna was described by Dylan as doing things that would get her injured or killed in their skirmishes with the monsters of the forest if she was alone. They wouldn't have needed to kill her, as her running off alone was too dangerous for her to handle in normal conditions, let alone in the abnormal one they found themselves in.

Quill just sees it as Anna falling prey to the consequences of her frankly foolish actions. She probably didn't make it that far either, so the Iron ranker that said she'd check probably found her not far from where she ran, but so shredded by the standard monsters that it wasn't easy to tell what actually killed her vs what was eating her after the fact.

As for the [Survivor] job, I can understand how bitter of a pill that would be to obtain, and he probably isn't the only one to have gained such thanks to this(it wouldn't surprise me that Malik, at the very least, would gain this after his sudden amputation) event. But it can probably be upgraded beyond just himself into a method of helping others survive as well. After all, Jobs are about what you do, not what you want, but you can shape them via want by doing something that aligns with said want.

 

[SanityRebuilt]

@sperance @Drake @SanityRebuilt @gthesob
My main point was that I don't think Anna's actions would lead to a summary execution like Slake Mothman was saying. Yes her leaving a comrade behind to die is a serious matter but she's also an inexperienced teenager who hasn't been trained how to deal with this level of shit. She's an Outlander, sheltered and naive and the only reason she's out in the wilds at all is because it's the only way she'll get any experience and it was considered to be somewhat safe as long as nothing outside of normal considerations happened. A Veil Breach is outside of normal considerations.

I'm not saying she'd not have faced serious consequences for leaving Dylan behind, I'm just saying that I don't think anyone from The Caravan killed her. The more likely scenario is what sperance was saying, where no one went looking for her until after things had calmed down and they found her body.

Click to shrink...

You've said a bit more than that, hence me even reacting the first time. My main contention was that your assertion that them being able to leave The Caravan would have any impact on her punishment, or that the worst of the possibilities was her not being saved.

I don't know if it'd have lead to execution necessarily, and I actually don't agree with Slake Mothman with his theory implication being correct, or an implication at all. Anna was incompetent enough that I fully expect her to have been dead long before they found Dylan, and I also think Sperance's take is plausible.

That said, if Anna (somehow) survived, I think Execution and Exile both would have been on the table. Yes, they are being babied, out of a combination of their long term potential and the inexperience that's no fault of their own. Caravans like this need a very high level of internal trust, especially outside normal considerations. The Veil Breach isn't just a mitigating factor, but an aggravating one too, since they being able to train up new people means they mostly need people of good character who keep their good character even under pressure.

They might spare her because of it, but her abandoning Dylan would be a black mark enough that I think her best bet would be either leaving right there or her being taken off of any important duties, and being let go at the next bastion, since it shows that when things go tits up, she can't be relied on. Even if they decided to keep her on on account of being an Outlander, no member of the caravan would ever really trust her, which is a really bad situation to be in when you live in a wandering village.