Damon stepped into the shower-room and looked around. It was a simple thing. A large stone bathtub with a drain at the center and a showerhead hanging above. Light red wood surrounded the room, light blue ceramic covered the floor outside the bathtub, having its own drain. With no windows, the only source of illumination were two white lights housed at either side of the room and contained behind murky pieces of glass.

“Do you want someone to help you wash?” Handrondi offered a pumice stone. “It’s really hard to remove once it dries. You don’t want to miss a spot. Few things drive them angrier than seeing or smelling monster blood.”

Damon stared at the dark rock. “I can handle it.”

“I’ll be at the door if you need help. Water’s that lever.”

“Is there temperature control?”

“Not in a village this far from everything.” Handrondi shook his head. “Warm water takes an hour to get ready. Hot an hour and a half.”

“Thank you.”

Handrondi moved to leave, but paused for a second.

“You might be new, but users stick together.”

Damon wasn’t sure how to take that, so he didn’t respond. The door closed, and only his thoughts remained as company. He took off the fur that was his sole piece of clothing and hopped into the tub. The lever on the wall appeared to work as a simple mechanism to regulate how much flow he’d get out of the water.

And the water was frigid.

Damon cursed several times before he got himself under control. He had to bite the bullet now that he’d asked for this. He shivered as he started rubbing the pumice against his skin. The blue blood had caked in along with dirt and sweat, and exactly as Handrondi had promised, it had proven difficult to remove. His injuries only made it worse. He felt like he was covered from head to toe in bruises, scrapes, cuts, and a couple of burns. Everything was minor, nothing too serious, but there was enough for him to wonder if he wouldn’t turn black and blue by tomorrow.

The cleaning came to a pause when his fingers brushed against the metal nub at the base of his cranium, he felt his whole body go rigid at the contact. Without thought, his nails dug into the skin, a painful stab shooting through him before he pulled his hands away.

The shower sputtered to a halt. Damon glanced upwards. There was a dull throb in the back of his head, one that warned him he’d lost track of time under the shower. A sense of defeat washed over him.

“Handrondi?”

“Need anything?”

“The water stopped.”

“It probably ran out. Oh. I forgot to mention plugging the bath, didn’t I?” A long awkward silence followed. “I’ll get a bucket.”

“…”

For a shower, it wasn't as relaxing as he’d hoped it would be.

Damon waited until the sasin came back with the promised bucket of chilly water. The bearded man had stripped down to a set of white briefs. This time, he didn’t ask whether Damon needed help and just barged in, and it would have been a challenge to stop the man.

Handrondi was built like a brick house, his arms thick with the sort of muscle one didn’t get from just lifting weights. Covering his arms was the crisscrossing straight silver, gold, and copper lines marking the grafts, the lines flowed and converged in the center of his chest like a massive tattoo. One Damon knew had far more utility than looks.

“To use the shower, you need to plug the bath, get some water, scrub, drain, plug again, and get some more water. Repeat until clean, then get a plunge to rinse.” Handrondi explained as he rubbed the pumice down Damon’s spine. There had been blue blood there, too. “We’ll also get you an antidote after this.”

Seated at the edge of the tub, Damon stiffened. “Is this stuff poisonous?”

“Wouldn’t suggest eating it, but it’s only really bad if it gets in your bloodstream. With your scrapes, you probably only have enough in you to slow down your healing and make you feel worse for wear. You’d need a lot more for it to be dangerous.” Handrondi dipped the pumice in the bucket, pausing. “Though you’re a big guy, if two darts from Sybil didn’t put you down, I doubt you'd have anything to worry over monster blood. Just what did they feed you to get you this big?”

“Whatever they had at hand.”

“I believe you.” He let out a slight chuckle. “That bite on your leg looks shallow, but I can help.”

“If you’re sure it’ll work.”

“Then stay still for a moment.”

Leaning over, Handrondi moved his left arm close to Damon’s leg. The palm glowed with a soft light. There was a hissing sound, and a purple mist as he pressed the cold damp skin against his own. There was a numbing sensation and instant relief, the pain gone in a snap.

“That’s another graft?” Damon stared at his leg closely, the bite-mark had lost the angry red edges. The lacerations were even slightly smaller than a moment ago.

“Yes, I can create some medicine that helps heal injuries. But it’ll-.”

He stopped as he glanced at Damon, taking a step back.

“Something wrong?”

“No, just…” Handrondi leaned closer, passing his thumb over Damon’s elbow. “It seems my medicine is a bit more effective on humans than I thought.”

Damon sat up a little, looking himself over. The aches from earlier had numbed, and a couple of the shallow cuts were entirely gone. “That’s… this stuff seems powerful.”

“It usually takes a full dose to cover that much.” Handrondi shook his head. “Well, it’s better this way, I guess.” He noticed Damon’s gaze lingering on his gold-covered palms. “You shouldn’t touch it.”

“What?”

“Your axon.”

Damon’s hand recoiled away from the back of his head, not having noticed it was there.

“Take it from me, it’s not something you want to make a habit out of.”

Handrondi turned away and reached behind his head. Raising his hair revealed a circular bronze colored piece of metal the size of a thumbnail. Small scars littered the skin surrounding the metal, they were scratch-marks from long ago.

“You… did that?”

“Partially.” He tossed the pumice stone back at Damon. “Some enders tried to take my key, knocked me out, I was lucky, came back right as they’d started poking around. Nasty fight, but I made it out. I kind of kept checking if it was still there after it was over, though. Took a while before I stopped.”

“What’s an ender?”

“Users that kill other users.” The expression darkened. “An axon is an expensive thing. Some people are desperate enough to pay the worst kind of people out there to get their hands on one.” There was a quiet fury in his words.

“What happens if…?”

“If they remove your axon? You may survive if they do it right, but those that have had theirs taken often wish they hadn’t. Grafts just don’t work quite how they did, and their role doesn’t come back either.” He shook his head. “That was wrong of me. This must be terrifying for someone new like you.” A slight sigh. “Very few users are attacked for their axon. Guilds are thorough when it comes to hunting enders down. Not that you’d have much to worry about.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If you killed a gaper with your bare hands, I doubt many would pose a serious threat to you.” Handrondi laughed, the darkness in his eyes gone like smoke in the wind.

Damon nodded and turned his focus back to his body, scrubbing away at the gunk with the help of the water from the bucket. The process was tedious, but Handrondi had insisted on the need for thoroughness. So it had taken several more buckets before he was declared fully clean.

“Do you have soap?”

“Never carry any. The last thing you need is making it easier for the monsters to hunt you down.” He twirled the black pumice. “Griff egg is the better option, it gets rid of all the scents.”

“I guess that’s fine. What about the fur?”

He got a laugh out of Handrondi. “You’ll get to clean your stuff after we get some food in you.” The word made Damon’s stomach grumble loudly, and the blond laughed harder. “With how tall you are, I’m afraid to ask how much you’ll eat.”

“There’s no way he’s still hungry.”

Damon put down the now empty wooden plate. “I’ll take more if you can spare it.”

“You’ve eaten ten whole servings. If I ate that much in a single sitting, I’d explode.” Handrondi spoke in awe.

“The plate is small.” It was really the only answer Damon could give. He’d eaten the equivalent of three normal servings. Considering the day he’d had, he definitely could go for one more if they could spare it.

Ideally, he’d also have a cold beer. The first image that came to mind was a bar and trying his luck with some pretty woman, but that consideration would definitely have to wait.

“How are you feeling?” Sybil asked from under her hood.

“I’m ok, all things considered. Do you cover your face all the time?”

“Don’t mind her. She’s more timid than she looks, it’ll take her a while to warm up.”

Damon shot a blank look at the duo that sat across from him. “She tried to stab me.”

“And you broke some ribs. I consider we’re even.” She declared with a frown and crossed her arms. “This is unnerving.”

“What is?”

“It’s like you’re not there.” Her arm gestured at him. “I’ve been trying to listen, but there’s not been so much as a peep. No one can hide their hymn like that without some very special grafts.”

“Well, he doesn’t bleed blue, at least.”

“I still don’t know what a ‘hymn’ is.” Damon pointed out.

The two shared a look. Handrondi grimaced. “I’m not good with this sort of explanation, you’re the expert.” Sybil shot Handrondi a look that made the sasin quickly lean away and raise his hands. “Hey, you know I don’t mean anything by that.”

“Something… wrong?”

“No, just something personal.” Sybil’s shoulders slumped as she sighed. “Imagine that. As I speak to you, I have a second voice. One that makes sounds that are… colorful.”

“Colorful… sounds.”

Damon looked at them blankly, he’d heard of synesthesia, but this didn’t seem like it was that.

“It is a complicated matter to explain a sense using the remaining ones. Could you explain eyesight through your sense of smell?” Sybil shook her head. “The hymn, the… sound and colors of this second voice. It gives intent to the words I say. It’s the first thing anyone notices when talking to someone else. They pay attention to how well the hymn harmonizes with the person’s surroundings, whether someone is screaming when everyone’s whispering, or if they are blueing while the others are red.”

“I was pretty blue just a couple of hours ago.”

“Got you there.” Handrondi chuckled.

“I did not expect colors to become a verb, but I’m curious to see where this goes.”

She huffed at them. “I have never had to explain this to someone else. It is a challenge I never expected to have, I am no wordsmith.” Her hand gestured at the door. “If I walk out and through the village, I’d be able to hear the hymn of each of them. I’d know if any of them need help or want me to go away.”

“So this hymn is like having a billboard telling others what you want out of them?”

“In a sense. My hymn speaks of my emotions, my expectations.” Sybil pressed her hand against her hood. “I can conceal it, to a point, but…”

“To quiet your hymn is akin to putting on a mask to avoid people from reading your expression.” Handrondi nodded. “And it takes skill to fake it.”

“Exactly!” She nodded, pausing as she met Damon’s quietly quirked brow. She stiffened at that, hazel eyes lowering to the table and the hood, hiding her expression.

“Considering things have gotten a bit out of track, I’d like to ask the big question and get it out of the way now that we can.” Stroking his golden beard, Handrondi leaned forward. “Where do you come from, Damon?”

“Planet Earth. United States, Texas, from a place called East Bernard, but everyone will say I’m from Houston. Got a lot of humans, and only humans.” He shook his head. “Anything sound familiar?”

“Everything you said sounded like gibberish. I guess we would have to ask whether the Irsi continent, Demna Kingdom, and Sky Bridge city are names you’ve heard before.”

“Nope.”

“And… you don’t know how you got here.”

“Woke up in the cave, fought the monster, passed out, and you know the rest. I hope the Idina woman might know something. No offense, but as colorful as this place is, I’d rather go back. Lot less monsters there.”

“What about your user guide?” Sybil asked.

“What about it?”

“You dismissed messages when we were approaching the village.” She made a gesture with her hand, as if swiping at the air. “It may have useful information.”

“I asked for it and it just pointed me back to the cave. Called it a Janus entry point.”

It took Damon a moment to realize his answer had caused a reaction out of the two. Or rather, Handrondi had become tense, his focus shifting towards Sybil. The hooded woman had become still, eyes wide. Her hood shifted slightly and her gaze focused on him like a laser. “Could you go into detail?”

“It called it a Janus Entry Point and a number. That’s it. Oh!” Damon perked up. “It also said it was missing information and that it needed a thalaring.”

“The nearest thalaring temple is in Sky Bridge.” Sybil leaned forward, hands flat on the table. “Tell me what you saw in that cave. Exactly. Did you spot any symbols? Drawings? Strange formations?”

“You should calm down.”

“No.” She shot a look at her companion. “This is important.”

“Important how?” Damon asked.

“A place of power of the God Janus.” She spoke with a slight hitch in her voice.

Damon hesitated, remembering the logo and the slogan. Janus was a God now? With a company motto? “What would you be able to do with a place of power? Anything about sending people to other worlds?”

“Places of power for Janus are of spiritual importance. They are where he left his mark on before he ascended.” There was no mistaking the edge of reverence in her words. “We may find some answers to why you are here.”

Damon hid his grimace. He’d already asked the system why he was there, and he hadn’t liked the answer. But he kept his mouth shut, he was missing too much context to speak up. Perhaps there was a different answer to be found.

He hoped there was one, at least.

Deep in space, Emilie was happily enjoying the purified hot water washing over her chitin body protections. Scout vessels did not come with showers, and the installation had come out of her own pocket. Well worth it, it was the kind of amenity that made her work more… amenable. But when the artificial gravity system in the ship shut down, Emilie found herself just about ready to panic.

Now, there are many reasons why artificial gravity systems might shut down while the warp was engaged, but none of them were good reasons.

She reached out to the emergency-dry button. Hot air blasted from above and a strong sucking came from the metal grid under her feet. The sound was deafening, and she had to cover her ear gaps to protect herself from the noise. Thirty seconds later, she floated out and fished for her boots and gloves.

The lights flickered.

Emilie quickly reconsidered, bouncing her way towards her EVA undersuit and clambering into the thing as best she could while having no gravity to assist her. The composite material clung to her still slightly damp chitin and Emilie let out a string of curses. Boots came on after, and she maneuvered her way towards the cockpit. Several lights were flashing in warning, though the fact that the main screen was offline meant it was either something minor, or something really really bad.

Strapping herself to the pilot chair, she began bringing up the alert prompts. The first wave of relief was that they hadn’t suddenly encountered something with enough mass to deform their trajectory. The second was that the warp bubble was still intact, though had it collapsed, she wouldn’t be alive right now.

The issue had come from the generator, the output had dropped, and the initial diagnostics wasn’t pinpointing the cause. The system had decided that the gravity field, which both sustained the warp bubble and the ship’s artificial gravity, would only focus on the warp bubble. The proper choice in case anything happened that might strain the system further.

And it had also turned off the water filters.

“Fuck.”

To fix the issue, Emilie would need to switch to auxiliary power and use advanced diagnostics on the main generator, which would turn off the warp bubble. Which would mean delays, which would mean she’d have a lot less saved up after this trip. Emilie ran the number in her head. She could juggle around the other life-support systems if she spent the rest of the trip fully geared in her EVA suit.

All she’d have to do would be to point the ship in the right direction once she entered the system's heliosphere, give it some inertia, and turn on the auxiliary generator so she could begin the repair work.

“It’s just a little bump, nothing to worry over.”