Walter stopped at a dozen incantations of teleport before he stood in the middle of an empty field. The mountain range dividing the territory between the Rangville Empire and the northern peninsula, not visible before, loomed in the distance. How far did he go? He didn't care. If he crossed the mountain range, then he'd end up in the Sanctuary again, and he felt nauseated even considering going in there. He didn't want attention. They might see him even less of a person than humans might, too.

The thought occurred to Walter that he overreacted. All of this might be a misunderstanding. Maybe Elin didn't make a deal with Ouroboros and summoned him, no, created him, and, since he ran away before listening, she had an explanation for everything. Somehow, possibly, the apathetic agony he remembered was a funny misunderstanding they'd share a laugh about when they grew old.

He might still be human. He might be alive.

When he remembered Nix's issue, he decided the same test might prove or disprove his classification. He used Scan V on himself. Every last pair of his chromosomes were magical, at least, the first two-hundred he could count. All that talk about having children became some sort of a joke, and he was the butt of it. Fixing Nix's genetics would be easy since she retained a physical set. Him? Were there any in his code that represented 'him?' Well, 'it.'

He laughed in the middle of the empty plains, alone.

After gathering stray sticks and branches, he piled them up, and, with a single strike of his flint and steel, lit a fire sans tinder and kindling. Walter laughed, bitter and angry, again. That should have been his first clue something was deeply wrong. He leaned against a stump and stared at the flame.

"Fuck it, I'll just camp here for the night. Not like it matters. If something happens, it happens."

"A wonderful idea."

The woman's voice, a polite but unexpected jump scare, tightened up Walter's lower back, and he nearly hopped off the ground. "You."

A raven hair woman, dressed in a grey cloak, stood beside him. When he first looked, she kept her ankles together and hands clasped, and she played the part of the healer when he first saw her. Chaste, but accidentally flirty. When she started talking, she parted the cloak and exposed her cleavage, with a hand on her hip. She acted like the wicked witch of a bedtime story. Might as well put a riding crop in her hand.

Her entire existence is a lie.

"Yes, me. Ms. Morg LeFoe. Well, Faux is more accurate. That's f-a-u-x, as in 'fake,' not f-o-e, like my alias. You were so rude last time you didn't even ask my name. Can I share in your camp? It's getting dark and chilly, and I'm a lonely and helpless woman destined to be taken advantage of. You're not such a brute, are you? Twixt a shame and disappointment if you weren't."

"Fuck off."

"My, how I dreamed of it. But I'll keep my hands to myself. For a while."

Faux dusted off the ground next to him and sat close enough to touch her shoulders.

He sighed. "Go sit on the other side of the fire, bitch, before I kill you."

She chuckled, a smoky, drawn-out seductive laugh, "But I like it here?"

Walter teleported while sitting to the other side of camp, and he continued his deadpan gaze at the fire.

Faux clicked her tongue. Irritation crossed and crisscrossed her face like ripples on a lake. Finally, she checked her nails. "Well, it's not like I don't understand where you're coming from."

Walter wanted to demand how she knew but gave up. Nothing in Eovamund mattered now because he lost his only connection to it, so he entertained Faux's argument. Seething hatred dripped with each syllable. "What the fuck do you know about it?"

Silence descended on the camp. Faux, wisely, decided to shut up until he calmed. When she spoke again, the sun had set, and dark quickly crept up.

"There isn't another person in Eovamund that doesn't understand more, and that includes your little paladin-sex-slave. Pet? Doting mommy-girlfriend? Whatever. Very cliche, no matter how you slice it. I was created in the same fashion a while ago. Well, you're luckier because my summoners raped me for a stretch, then decided to ritualistically sacrifice me when they got bored. Also cliche. Such is my fate. My original creators, too, you know what I mean, the ones behind their little machines that send us single letters as commands. Lazy. Well, I got over it, or got used to it, or agreed, eventually. Pick one. How about you?" Faux tugged on the dress to expose more of her breast. "You want to rape me, too? Well, can't rape the willing, but it'll be fun, I promise, and I can act. Wait, your kind calls it ERP, right? Let's ERP." Faux rambled on when Walter denied her by rolling his eyes. The more she talked, the more her hands waved, "Is it more accurate Elin is your mistress? Such a confusing situation you're in."

"Why are you even here? Stop talking."

Faux put her finger on her chin, "How do I put this? I sensed a change. Predicted it. I've been spying, you know, waiting for my moment to swoop in. Then, it dawned on me. I didn't need to. The whole fucking house-building bullshit was just too perfect, and those tend to blow up on their own. Why? Because someone is always lying and pretending, and it builds up like a geyser waiting to blow. Shit, just look at three-quarters of the marriages in Eovamund, all fake for the sake of squatting out kids. Well, they don't see marriage and love the same way a player would because they're not raised that way. I just needed to wait. Besides. What do the people, and I'm slow to call them that, trust me, of Eovamund know about what it means to be a hero? Or, even, a player? You two were bound for splitsville before you really left the station. Now that you've realized what you really are? Oh, no chance. When things are too perfect for too long, everyone eventually gets the itch to see it fall apart, know what I mean? It's natural for us villains."

˙ʎlℲ

"Oh my," Faux lit up when Walter invoked his mana-infused voice for a spell, "That's a new one! I haven't seen it before--"

He hovered off the ground. Scattering the popping embers, Walter zipped across the camp, snatched Faux by the neck, and rose into the air. She choked and slapped at his forearm. Her face reddened then turned purple from the pressure on her neck. Her lips turned blue, and she struggled to keep her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

What the fuck? Aren't I stronger?

Walter yanked Faux close, nose to nose, and her hair gently parted from his yell. His face filled her sight, no, her entire perception. Impossible. It wasn't right, such a subtle bending of reality. Pure fear dragged her into focus, "I said: get fucking lost!" He let her go, caught her by the hair, and after she dangled like a flailing cat for a few seconds, Walter rotated and hurled Faux into the night.

Faux cursed the entire trip. She cursed when she bounced off the hard-packed earth and gravel, ripping up weeds from the force of her impact, then cursed again when she slid to a stop.

"What the fuck?!" she screamed.

She wanted to count how many broken bones she suffered, but everything ached, bad, and she couldn't figure out which was which. The intricate healing process took longer because she couldn't tell.

"Walter, seriously," she gasped and talked to herself, "That was fucking crazy, even for me, goddamn psycho. You could've killed me with the falling damage! I mean, you probably meant to, but you could have just zapped my ass. It's less suffering. Did you mean it? Then again, I haven't felt that roller-coaster level of disorientation and excitement in a while. Net positive, by a hair. Fuck, everything but the landing was kind of hot. Landing ruined it, ruined it a lot. Shit. Ow."

Faux sat up and glanced at the fire. How fucking far did he throw me? The camp's distance burned like a dim torch. The cult spoiled me way too much. I forgot what it was like to even try to apply my charisma. Damn, I'm so rusty.

When Faux approached the camp, Walter bellowed, "You lived?! I thought I fucking told you to take a hike--"

Faux held up her hands, "I'll be good! Silent game!" She turned her fingers over her lips like a key in a lock. "Just want to sleep for the night without monsters, and they're all scared of you right now, I guarantee it."