Pulling a blank is the worst, something Sky once said, because it often occurs at the worst possible timing. Empty eye sockets, which eerily glowed red, and a face like dried leather despite the fake rain, zoomed next to his beating soul.

Again, he drew the revolver and shot once, twice, and thrice—its arm curved inches away from his face—the flames only licked them. He thought he could aim at its neck where the sword had cut through it earlier, but for some reason, the gash around its neck closed. Dammit, once more! One, two—a disarming clap made his vision freeze and a black notice went up to the side of his head—the gun’s durability reached zero, furthermore, it shattered apart before delivering the second round.

SIM wouldn’t allow him to print another one. A big red ‘x’ blanketed both Lark’s mind and heart, so much so that he lost his balance. His knees spun on the ground once they passed the doors. This was the opposite of a touchdown.

The narrow, marble lane in front of the book returns and library counters flooded. Luckily, the Cursed Human hadn’t grasped the true nature of a slip and slide yet and crashed into a glass stand. Minor burns and cuts covered its arms. Still, it was only one or a half-bound away. Unable to breathe at his sheer luck, Lark’s legs and arms grew numb. All he could think was how stupid of him it was to test out the gun like that and why’d he even do that. Not even the sound of grinding glass could snap him out of it.

Gushi jumped out from under his arm. The bubble of its antenna glowed red, swinging over his shirt pocket. Then the slime bounced out of sight, steam rising off its coat.

Only then, did Lark remember how to breathe. He fanned his arms to no avail. “No!”

His voice came out neither strong nor confident, a failure of a beast tamer for sure, but desperation called for a second chance.

About the same size as a home refrigerator, Gushi’s stature came up short against the freakishly tall abomination. Faced off with the wiggling slime, the abomination growled, knees bent low and back hunched. Cautiously, it lunged forward, striking an arm out. Gushi moved to the side and spat a brigade of various paperback books and magazines. They rifled into the air with furious ‘vooms,’ yet bounced off the monster’s skin like ping-pong balls. The cracked spines and ripped pages splayed out across the floor. Annoyed, the abomination crouched, then sprung up high above the flying textbooks, back-flipped off of the countertops and delivered a crushing blow. The effect of the high-powered kick swept the fallen books into the air.

Something like a smug grin showed on the monster’s twisted mouth until it grunted looking at its stuck leg inside the library wall. A small Gushi hopped on its tiny four appendages and bopped the abomination’s out-smarted face with its antenna before scurrying upstairs.

Anger seized it as the abomination roughly pulled itself out of the wall. Loud-curling screams, each possibly angrier than the last, followed after Gushi.

Hair wet, clothes drenched, and refraining from shitting himself, Lark finally gathered enough courage to stand up. Sprinklers had stopped, and for a while, he thought it meant it was almost over until COSMO reminded him there was still twelve minutes left. “Dammit,” Lark hissed, balling his fists. He thought he’d changed, but still Sphinx was right. Weak. Clumsy. Stupid. He was all those things.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted where he’d dropped the broadsword. He stepped towards it, but then halted, seeing as Master Nympha appeared in front of the sword.

“You, where’d you go?” Without realizing it, tears had stung his eyes as he hurriedly swiped them.

The purple mouse answered, “I was with Sphinx, looking for an explanation. Now, you, I’ve been watching you…what were you hoping to accomplish by hesitating?”

Lark lowered his head. “W-what are you talking about—”

“No!” Master Nympha’s voice rose sharply. “If I weren’t here, you would’ve walked even slower to pick up this sword. Where did that boldness I witnessed from the dungeons go?”

“You’re wrong!” His fingers curled, snapping each knuckle. “I was never like this, looking for fights to kill myself or anyone. I’m only like this right now to get stronger for Wangshi’s sake. To get him home. I didn’t want to learn how to shoot guns or do these try not to die challenges. Sphinx…Sphinx, he’s trying to turn me into someone I’m not! ”

“And your friends? Gushi?”

“Huh.” Breathless, he ran a hand through his hair. “I—”

“That’s right. Your goal is too large, too abstract. Save friends, return father-figure, protect slime—but exactly how will you accomplish that? You cannot compete, you cannot even finish what you started.”

Lark could only grind on his teeth in response.

“Although I don’t agree with Sphinx’s methods, I agree with him on one thing,” Nympha continued. “Recklessness. Carelessness. And hesitation. These mistakes can kill you.”

A silent moment passed. Nympha gave a dejected sigh, displeased by his lack of a response.

“A familiar’s job is to ensure both parties don’t die, otherwise it’ll hurt their collective soul growth.” Her cold eyes pierced through him. “So, just sit back for the next ten minutes. I’ll make sure your slime doesn’t die too.” She disappeared in a flash.

Lark looked up into the darkening sky, wishing all his burdens would go up in smoke. How many times did he have to beg for it to come true? Everything just stopping for the sake of just stopping. Even if it was just a fluke earlier, he shouldn’t have hesitated, chopping that thing’s neck off when he had the chance. Nympha was right. Sphinx was right too. Wasted opportunities were mistakes.

He rolled his shoulders, but the tension never left completely. All his pent-up frustration lingered inside his chest like a thousand ants biting their way into his heart. What would Sky do in this situation? He couldn’t help but wonder. Sky was the smart one, the one who wasn’t afraid of anything, and the one who got the girl… He should have disappeared instead.

“Excuses.” The voice he least wanted to hear was back. “Shouldn’t you know the answer by now? Why do you keep running away from it—responsibility I mean—and by running I mean, standing in place like you’re lost still.”

Lark’s brows knitted together. “Sphinx.”

“Careful, we’ve only got about seven minutes left in heaven.” A row of white teeth gleamed in the pale gloom of dusk. Sphinx used the same movement when Lark first saw him; quiet, soundless footfalls walked across the cement. “Wanna try to kill me again? It might make you feel better,” he offered, lifting the broadsword naturally.

“Or are you still too scared?” His smile froze, and his pale eyes moved ever so slightly following Lark’s movements.

Lark rocked back on his feet, noticing Sphinx’s presence coming closer to him, although it appeared he wasn’t moving at all. The curved blade had a likened smile to Sphinx. Sharp, crazed, and a little bit scary. “If you’re not going to run, try dodging.”

Actually, a whole lot scary.

Lark heard the strange chuckle first, then saw the blade charge with a fearsome thrust. A fistful of thunder roared inside his chest as he took several steps back. His left arm tucked to his side as the spatial ring activated. Both hands quaked while pulling out the twin short swords.

“That’s right, other than pain, your body should react to fear,” Sphinx said while diving down with a swing and another laugh. “Oh, a beginner trying to parry?”

The heat and clangs of metals rang next to Lark’s head. He’d used both swords to block. It took both hands to block. Not realizing how long Sphinx’s reach was the broadsword had grazed his cheek.

The wound wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t light either.

Heavy. Lark cringed. He tried to push the sword away, but Sphinx was intent on pushing the blade down without much effort at all. No time to breathe. Lark lunged forward with all his might. Screeching metal and the sound of his heart pounded in his ears.

“Rule one…” Sphinx seemed to relent as Lark forged forward. “Don’t mess with a magic sword unless you know magic.” Then he smiled. A sign, which immediately told Lark to get the hell away from Dodge.

When Lark moved, so did Sphinx. Blood-red sparks erupted from the broadsword’s tip, hot and sizzling like firecrackers. The rest of the blade did not immediately have that red aura like Silvina’s Flame Tunnel, but Lark wasn’t going to wait to find out. He held steadfast to the sword closest to Sphinx, and angled the other to redirect the pressure, slicing apart the small burst of flames. Doing so, cracked the sword’s blade, but enabled Lark to counter the heat and forced Sphinx to stop pressing him. After the sparks died down, Lark risked pivoting his body to use the same sword to aim towards Sphinx’s chest. He spun with such a speed, it outmaneuvered his special tail-spin kick.

“Hmph.” His so-called protector pulled back in time, adjusting his stance so that blade sailed above his head. He retracted the broadsword behind his back, turning away from Lark’s follow up strike. “That’s right. Create space between yourself and your enemy.”

Lark stilled, holding himself back from striking again. Every time Sphinx spoke, he was always calm, never showing a shocked expression, other than the time Nympha revealed herself. Lark used to think it was arrogance that Sphinx carried himself with, however, it was becoming more like… how Samuel, his soccer mentor, used to talk to him. Sometimes joking, and sometimes serious. Close, but never close enough to get the real him.

“At least your instincts are still working.” Though Sphinx said that in his usual sarcasm, his grin disappeared. An almost forceful, bored tone followed. “When are you going to finally be who you’re meant to be?”

Sphinx withdrew the broadsword to his side, pointing it downward.

Forfeiting? Lark wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, except a second later, the sword crackled with a different type of energy than before. A cold, blue hue rose from the chunk of metal, resonating a dizzying and ominous vibe.

“I don’t know what you mean,”—just stop with the riddles for once— “this is just your twisted method of training.” Lark raised his sword, accepting the challenge. “I’m going to win this round.”

“And I’m going to remind you—” Sphinx blinked and was gone from Lark’s line of sight. Lark bit down hard on his bottom lip, drawing out blood, to keep himself calm.

A cold wind flicked behind his ear. Lark twisted his body, at the same time brandishing Wangshi’s jian out of storage.

“—why you’re here.”

Clang!