Why are these brats still following me? I thought I took care of such lingering attachments earlier. The two youngest one’s facial expressions show only the slightest of wariness and are otherwise filled with positive emotions. The oldest one has a strange mix of concern, wariness, and some other emotion which I cannot quite make out. This is perplexing.

“Is Mister going shopping? Temr can lead the way, you know! What’s Mister gonna buy?”

“Noisy…”

Rather than becoming discouraged, the two youngest instead laugh amongst themselves. It seems they are building an immunity to my poison tongue at a terrifying rate. If they will no longer be turned away with such subtle tactics, I will brandish an even more severe display of force.

“Oi, brats…”

“Eh? What is it, Mister?”

Is this little one supposed to be their spokesperson? Neither of the other two has conversed directly to me this whole time. Whatever…

“[Command]. [Task].”

All of the children following me stand at attention. Wait… Even the urchin child is listening attentively for my orders. I suppose it makes no difference whether she stays or leaves. I will just pick her up later.

“R-return to the orphanage at o-once. Remain t-there until I say o-otherwise.”

I believe that is enough information. If I make the [Command] too exact, there might be some discrepancies. For instance, if I had said “Remain seated”, it is quite likely they would have ignored any of their necessary bodily functions until I returned. That is just one example; Any number of things could go wrong. This is why I have to be vague when issuing commands.

“[Release].”

Faithfully fulfilling my orders, the brats all make their way back into the orphanage. Even in this situation, they hold onto their cheery expressions firmly. For a couple of impoverished orphans, they sure are a positive bunch. This likely has to do with the skilled management of that shark woman. Speaking of which, I believe I left her on [Mute], did I not? Well... She will somehow survive.

(Now then…)

There are apparently no casinos in Bronzegate; Information I have gleaned from both those orphans and their Matron. This is rather unfortunate. And even in the case there was some kind of underground gambling house, there is little chance that an outsider like me would be able to locate it. My options are steadily dwindling.

The only resources I currently have to make money are my coach, Tomorrow, the tailoring supplies, and my own knowledge. If I were to include that urchin brat into my assets, I could make money as a pimp or a slave trader... Selling someone who has the same face as my sister somehow makes me feel uncomfortable.

“Urk…”

Suddenly the intensity of the flame on my chest increases exponentially. These accursed flames are dreadfully painful even whilst calm. When they flare up like this it becomes agonizing to the point that I am unable to suppress my voice. I still cannot pinpoint what exactly it is that causes these episodic bursts in intensity. However, it goes without saying that once I have figured it out, I will rid myself of it immediately.

(Enough! I have no time for this…)

Let me think… I suppose I could just use [Hypnosis] to withdraw funds from the bank. This would be untraceable as long as I were to leave no records. There is little chance that this world has any means to capture video, which means I would not have to disguise my appearance. If careful, I could easily pull it off.

I am reminded of that sickening clown’s words. Undoubtedly, [Hypnosis] is a very powerful tool, and it is likely that I will be using it countless more times in the future. That said, is it appropriate in this instance to rely on such a thing? I am conflicted. But in the end, I must push ever forwards.

(No use worrying about hypotheticals when there is a reaper on my tail…)

Even whilst buffeted by doubts beyond measure, I take up the reins of Tomorrow, making my way to the only bank in Bronzegate. The bank is a rectangular building, wider than it is tall. Two expansive bay windows line the mustard-yellow front wall symmetrically, with the entrance lying nestled between them. The ornamentation featured along the borders is pleasant, if not a tad excessive.

A tall brass clock stands next to the entrance, towering over the sidewalk menacingly. All the gears and gadgets lay bare, protected only by a glass screen. I have become accustomed to this type of narcissistic display of craftsmanship, what with all of the exposed mechanisms dotting the street corners. It is a fad that I cannot understand. But I have nonetheless grown inured of its candor.

The bank’s interior is scant any form of accents, unlike its outside counterpart. It has a very businesslike appeal. The walls are made of tall wooden panels, bordered by a neat trim, and a seating area is built into both bay windows. The room is very wide, yet very shallow, and a long band of counters spreads across its wake, separated by dividers to protect the customer’s privacy. There is also an area leading further inside, though I am unable to view its contents at this angle.

Multiple tellers sit behind the counter, so I pick the seemingly most unintelligent one to do business with. The line is negligible, as is this town’s population to begin with. Although it is larger than Fort Wayfield, it is still a small countryside town. I suppose it is better than having to wait in line for a half-an-hour.

“Good Afternoon Sir. What is it that I can help you with today?”

Spare me the drivel, you unremarkable NPC-like fellow. Your entire vapid existence up until this point has been a precursor to this very moment. Every mistake you have made has led you here. You are nothing but a swine, suckling upon your mother’s teat, fattening yourself up for the slaughter. If anything, you should be proud that you have become such an unquestionably substandard individual, for it is this very reason that you have been chosen. Be of enough benefit to me, and you may continue your hideous life for years to come.

(Err… My thoughts seem to have gone off on a tangent. Perhaps stress is a factor? Anyways, I should be quick about this…)

Using a negligible amount of power, I hastily bring the teller under my control. Despite the lack of effort required, a blinding pain surges through my optical stems upon completion. I have clearly reached the limit to this ability, at least for the present time.

Accompanied by the pain, the color around me abruptly fades away. My surroundings have become a monochrome display, void of the presence of any distinguishable majesty. Even the illusory specters have become bland in appearance.

This is quite an unfortunate time to be laden with such an inconvenient side-effect. No matter... I will simply have to differentiate the coinage by size and weight, rather than color. It is not like this fellow will try to cheat me in his current state, but I still feel averse to relying solely on something like trust.

After applying my standard set of [Commands] to this nondescript fellow, I make to withdraw a sizable sum of money.

“[Comman…”

“Put the money in the bags!! This is a good ol’ fashioned stick ‘em up!”

(You have got to be kidding me!)

No sooner have I started my command to rob this bank with utmost discretion, when a group of legitimate bank robbers appears out of nowhere. This is literally the worst time for these idiots to have come here. Could they not have waited for me to be finished my own business before marching right in here like a pack of mental patients? Not that I am one to talk, but do these guys not realize that this will only lead to misfortune on their part? Do all the bandits of this world have balls of steel? I am speechless.

In all, there are six. Three of them have rifles, two have pistols, and one of them has a sword on his belt. The sword carrier possesses multiple burlap sacks, which I assume are to contain the money. Each of them has cloth covering their mouth and nose to keep their identities hidden. They look more like highway bandits, rather than bank robbers.

The obnoxiously loud fellow in the center is one of the pistol wielders. In fact, the scrawny looking man holds two pistols, one in each hand. His appearance is very spaghetti western. I dare say he might be their leader, but he still looks like a fool to me.

“Nobody move!!”

A few of the other customers had been hoping to sneak away in the commotion. Sadly, they were easily caught by these hoodlums before they could get anywhere. But really… This guy is contradicting himself…

“Anyone who doesn’t wanna get shot, get on your knees over by the wall! If you so much as move a muscle, I’ll turn every one of ya into bits and pieces!”

Out of the six robbers, the leader-esque fellow giving the orders points one of his pistols towards the right wall. A mob of terrified looking customers accumulates at the indicated area just like they are told. I join them noncommittally; I am not in any kind of danger, but I would like to avoid drawing any unwanted attention.

“Except for you! You get to fill these bags with money. Aren’t you lucky?”

Mr. Leader decides to get one of the tellers to fill the bags. He chooses the exact same teller that I chose. It must be his destiny to fork over money to bank robbers. I will refrain from doing anything for the moment. Let me just see where things go from here.

Having gained control over the situation, the bank robbers divide into groups as they begin the next stage in their plans. Two of the rifle wielders stand guard over the hostages, while the rest follow the teller deeper into the bank’s interior.

As for the two watchmen, one of them is a muscular brute with not a strand of hair on his head. The other has a musketeer’s hat with mid-lengthed greasy dark hair. His eyes have a despicable glint in them, housing a violent nature no doubt. The way he keeps ogling the female hostages is considerably deviant. Every time they catch his eye, they shudder in utter repugnance.

(I hope this guy manages to hold it together…)

As long as this greasy bastard can keep it in his pants, I can bide my time here disguised as a hostage. There is nothing that says I have to especially stop him in the case that he is unable to though. The only problem is, I want to keep things moving along smoothly. They may be a bunch of trash mobs with toilet water for brains, but as of yet, their plan has gone without a hitch. I could even be out of this mess within the hour. No matter what, I want nothing to do with the Guild of Judgement.

It has been a few minutes since the main group split off and left these two kind gentlemen behind. I am growing weary of this charade. Now that I think about it, the longer I spend waiting here aimlessly, the closer the Guild of Judgement gets to catching me. If I am at a loss either way, I might as well choose the option that prevents any direct interaction with the Guild.

(Even so… Having so many witnesses is a terrible misfortune on my part...)

Not to mention, this lack of colors is severely limiting my depth perception. My brain is having trouble differentiating between things that are shadows, and things that are just dark to start with. ever, this is not to say that I am without depth perception entirely.

Although everything around me has become grey-scale, there are many different shades of grey. These contrasting shades allow me to decipher very basic scale and depth, but they require constant manual calculations since my brain is not designed for solely grey-scale. In other words, I have to actually think about wanting to know the depth of something, instead of my brain simply doing it for me. Even if I had just one eye, as long as I could see colors, I would still be better off than I am at this moment.

To fight with such a large disadvantage would be foolhardy, if not for the fact that I cannot possibly be killed. The only thing I really have to worry about is the other hostages.

There are twelve of us in total, including me. This is a number well beyond what I feel comfortable using [Hypnosis] on after everything I have gone through today. But… That does not concern me. I will decide my own limits; Not the [Black Corona]. There is also a reason I am willing to go through with this.

These bank robbers most likely have a base of operations, safe from the public eye. It is there that they will store the spoils of war. I doubt the Guild will hold it against me should I requisition any of their stolen artifacts in the process of meting out some form of retribution. As long as it goes well, it is of benefit to both parties after all.

For this instance, I have thought of two separate plans of action. Either of them would work, but I shall be going with the first one, prudently labeled [White Fox]. There are quite a few reasons for this, the foremost of which is that it coincides beautifully with many of my previous formulations. Though I believe its true worth will only reveal itself quite some time from now. Let us worry about such things later…

(Now then…)

Reaching into the right pocket of my trousers, I begin crafting a certain something from its contents. The contents being a handful of simple iron nails, and the certain something being five crudely fashioned caltrops. Using three nails each, it is possible to fold them together into an effective weapon. Though this is only true of someone with the physical strength to bend iron using only their fingers. Applying a minute amount of [Corruption], this task is taken care of stealthily, and with finesse.

Next is to wait for the right moment. All the actors are in place, so I am ready to start my lines at the cue. The star of the show is none other than Mr. Greasy Bastard, a newcomer to the acting biz. Some have speculated that this may just be his last performance. We will have to wait and see…

(He sure seems like a method actor…)

This fellow’s smile is becoming rather disturbing to look at, while he unceremoniously flaunts his engorged package. The inside of his head is no doubt filled with crude images of himself devouring these helpless women. It is a wonder he has not acted upon his carnal desires yet. Though I am fairly certain that his patience has worn to the breaking point by now. It is finally time to act.

“Ahhh! I can’t stand it anymore! Macer, you cover fer me; I’m gonna have myself a lil bit ‘a fun until Chief gets back.”

“Yeah yeah… Just don’t make a mess ‘a things.”

“Shut up! I know what I’m doin’!”

Having said that, the greasy bastard starts making his way over to one of the more attractive hostages. He has likely based his decision on the particularly ample size of her bust. Even the overly frilly blouse and long pleated skirt can do nothing to hide the ripeness of her wares. She has splendidly fulfilled her role as bait.

“Gaaah!!”

Paying far too little attention to his surroundings, the greasy bastard zealously treads upon the caltrops I have so expertly placed before him. The nails pierce straight through his boots, embedding themselves into the tender flesh from the underside of his foot. It is the recoil, caused by the sudden painful situation, that I was going for.

The trigger of that greasy bastard’s gun is in my hand faster than he can react. As I point the muzzle towards his freakishly muscular associate, I cock the rifle and fire a round directly into his chest. The abruptness of the action splendidly knocks the muscle-freak off of his feet. Though it is pure chance that I seem to have struck his heart, the outcome would have been the same no matter where the bullet had entered.

Having effectively lowered their fighting power by half, I then draw the hidden knife from my ankle. Whilst ducking to his left side, I twist my body with a circular motion and sink the blade deep into his poorly guarded neck. His final breaths escape as a muffled gurgle; With his spine and trachea being severed cleanly by my skillful administration of swordplay.

The event unfolded in less than eight seconds, and the two bank robbers now brutally display their death throes in front of the astonished crowd of hostages. Unfortunately, I have no time to waste admiring my own handiwork.

Tapping into the [Black Corona] for the umpteenth time today, I once again apply my [Hypnosis]. All of the unwitting hostages are taken care of simultaneously. I am forced to rush during the whole procedure. Nonetheless, I am able to safely bring these fellows under the conclusion that they were unable to get a proper look at my appearance. As such, I will be totally unidentifiable.

“Ahem… F-feel free to escape now... Or w-whatever.”

I murmur these few empty words to the other hostages, as I tactlessly wipe the blood that has dirtied my blade onto the fallen bank robber’s shirt. Honestly, I do not feel it is necessary for me to bother saying anything at all. It is unlikely that these people would be killed even if they should stay where they are. I, on the other hand, must flee the scene immediately, lest I am cornered by the remaining members of this heist. The gunshot will draw their attention to this place at any moment, so I shall definitely be taking my leave.

Watching my rather nonchalant attitude, the rest of the hostages stare in utter bewilderment as I casually walk through the bank’s front doors. As they are now, they are no longer of any consequence to me. Like this, I am cast into the bustle of the street, amongst the oblivious citizens of this busy town. The ear-piercing sound of gunshots seems to have been drowned out by the roaring of engines, and the boisterous chorus of heavy industries.

Regardless of how stoic my facade may be, the inner workings of my mind are beyond irreparable. I can taste blood on my tongue, and my veins feel like they are filled to the brim with battery acid. This has clearly been a grievous misappropriation of power; Far more than my body has the capacity for. Not quite as bad as when I battled the golem but certainly working its way up to it.

Nevertheless, I shall endure. I shall remain staunch and true on my path to victory. Overcoming this trial will bring me that much closer to my goal. Not to mention, as I strive to implement [White Fox], many walls that I previously could not surpass will be brought to ruin. This plan will become a vital asset in future dealings.

In the meantime, I must return to my coach. I require mobility should I hope to properly attend to these rambunctious fellows. No doubt when they emerge they will be in somewhat of a hurry, having just robbed a bank and all. Tailing a group of robbers in a coach sounds like a chore, but I have some unfinished business with them that I must take care of.

------------

I am currently meditating. Since the job of tracking the group of bank robbers back to their base was rather uneventful, to say the least, I am left with quite a bit of free time until darkness falls. Horses are terribly loud creatures, making it is surprisingly easy to follow a horse-drawn vehicle. Even so, I had to park my coach and travel on foot when they entered the slums, as the traffic had become scarce.

The hideout is a ragged-looking two-story building with a large iron gate on the bottom floor leading to an inner courtyard. They stashed the carriage there and took their spoils through a back entrance located in an alley to the rear of the building.

Those fellows look incredibly tense. They may have succeeded in their endeavor, but they lost two colleagues to unforeseen circumstances. I have no doubt that they are racking their poor brains, trying to figure out exactly what happened. Not that it would be of any help.

I am now secretly camped in a secluded location, keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of movement from the robbers. There are plenty of things I need to ruminate about while I wait. For instance, the particulars of this raid, how to spend any loot I should obtain therein, and in moving forwards, laying preparations for operation [White Fox]. To be specific, I need to increase what little control over the [Black Corona] I currently have; A formidable task indeed.

From my experience, this cursed power undoubtedly predisposes its user to various debilitating repercussions. The symptoms are diverse and greatly differ in their inconvenience, but generally, they are negative effects. However, because there are effects, there must also be a cause; It is this induction that leads me to the hypothesis of the power’s toxicity.

In the case of toxins, it is usually abated by simply taking an antidote, anti-venom, or some such. That said, while far less common, a more proactive approach involves administering non-lethal doses of the poison through ingestion, or localized injection. This is repeated until the body builds up the requisite antibodies, eventually becoming tolerant to said poisonous compound.

This tolerance is highly appealing to me, for if it can be translated over to my [Corruption], I could potentially become more adept with it over time. In no way does that mean the risk would disappear. Apart from the obvious physical side-effects, just like the skill’s name implies, drawing from the void that is the [Black Corona] also creates a connection between that disquieting entity and my own consciousness. I feel its vile grip extending into my mind more and more.

Putting that aside, being able to fulfill my goal is all that matters to me. Should this nebulous, ominous power be required to accomplish such a thing, I have decided to embrace it, albeit tentatively and with extreme caution. Therefore, it stands to reason that I should become more acquainted with this awe-inspiring force of exceedingly questionable origin.

The toxicity aside, the current utility value of [Corruption] is a little sparse for my liking. This all boils down to the heavy toll it takes upon my vessel. Put another way, as long as I can get around that unfortunate stipulation, it will vastly increase the economic plasticity of my resources.

Having brought this little tangent full circle, the necessity for such meticulous introspection should now be easily apparent. To put it simply, the meditation is a means of entering the correct mindset to hone my control over the unfathomable emissions that constantly ooze from of the [Black Corona]. I shall call it [Dark Radiation] henceforth.

Why I believe such an absurd thing is even possible can be explained through logical deduction, though with some uncertainty. So far, there have been multiple occasions where this situation has indeed already manifested itself.

The most obvious instance of this happening being when I willfully partake of [Dark Radiation] during [Corruption] or [Hypnosis]. In [Corruption]’s case, I store the power internally. This is why my body is hit with the consequences. Though slightly different for [Hypnosis], the [Dark Radiation] still passes through my vessel whilst I am applying my will to it.

The final example happened the other day. That totally malnourished urchin brat exhibited a dexterity far removed from what is conceivably possible. A minute amount of [Dark Radiation] somehow found its way into that child’s vessel regardless of my intent. Therefore, it stands to reason that the pathway to the [Black Corona] is not necessarily through my own vessel. A shadow that looms beyond; Truly a [Black Corona].

But how do I go about this? This [Dark Radiation] is tangible yet intangible. I can apply a condition to it once it enters my body, but I have yet to digest the alternative. I can feel its presence when I greatly concentrate, but it is like the difference between common air and air with smoke floating in it. Unlike smoke, however, there is no displacement when I wave my hands through it.

As fascinating of a concept as it is, I am having terrible difficulty in untangling this mystery. It is a bit dispiriting. Intuition has never been one of my strong suits. Honestly, it is almost miraculous that I have achieved this much in the first place. [Corruption] was practically handed to me by that clown, and [Hypnosis] was simply the natural conclusion of getting the hang of applying my will to the [Dark Radiation] once it actually entered my vessel.

Perhaps I should just project my will into my surroundings. Sounds a bit manga-esque. I have already practiced an internal form of this mechanism, but exactly what process would I use to make it external? Ahhhh… I am so close, yet the final step is so illogical! How do you think outside of your body!? What does that even mean!?

On another note, how exactly did that brat manage to manipulate the [Dark Radiation]? Hmmm… I seem to have missed something rather important. Is this the true difference between an intuition based lifeform and a logic-based one? Almost like receiving a completely foreign organ and just shrugging it off. That is practically cheating.

(Memo to me: Do unspeakable things to that incorrigible brat to vent the stress caused by her indirect act of abject defiance; Whether deservedly or otherwise. Yes, verily so.)

I should concentrate… Move. Move. Move. Twirl. Spin. Flutter. Wiggle. Move. Do something. Do anything... It all does nothing. I am unable to create a connection with the surrounding energy. I have been trying everything for the past three hours and nothing is working. Is it impossible after all?

Time for a different approach. I next try internally dousing a small portion of [Dark Radiation] with a certain will. Essentially, to “Seek”, “Concentrate”, and “Manipulate”. When I finish composing, it immediately gathers the surrounding energy into clouds and traces my fingers path in front of me. Just like I thought, it is easy to apply will if done internally…

(This totally defeats the purpose of the experiment. Ingesting the poison in hopes of not ingesting the poison? A time paradox!)

‘Sigh’

Even though I barely used any power, my head feels like it is split wide open. This oversaturation is excruciating. The quicker I build a tolerance to this bothersome thing the better. It sure would be nice if it was more useful. Am I not supposed to be a god? I feel like I need to complain to someone. Quality assurance...?

‘Sigh…’

(Oh dear. If I keep sighing like that, my happiness will fly away… Heh.)

Intuition… Intuition… Come to think of it, I received no negative side-effects back then, despite [Falling Owl] using a ridiculous amount of power when he obliterated Fort Wayfield… The heck? What an outrage! Does everyone know how to use the [Dark Radiation] correctly except for me?

(Memo to me: Punch [Falling… Er… Cause unscrupulous misfortune to befall that damn brat to vent the additional stress caused by being slighted by my own subconscious. Needless to say undeservedly… Yes, it is a necessary evil. This is basically the only thing she is good for anyway.)

Ahh, I feel refreshed. Piling up debuff after debuff is causing my mind to become unstable. The world is gruesome and bleak; One all-encompassing hallucination. Fortunately, this makes the variance of my hallucinations decrease. With a larger scope, comes a loss in pressure. Analogous to a garden hose. Not having them at all would also be nice.

Putting that aside, as the sun has finally set, it is about time that I should make my appearance. Guns blazing is not my style. I will momentarily return to my coach to retrieve the artifacts required for the operation. That said, they are only some coarse-fiber bags and my [Raven’s Garb]. More like, is there even a need for anything else…?

The disguise has plenty of room for improvements, but it is still quite nice in its current state. All of my specifications were skillfully manifested. Contrary to his initial untoward behavior, [Hypnotized] clothier was a true professional.

To describe the appearance of the [Raven’s Garb] is to invoke the subtleties that bring about a lingering unease unto those that should view it. It plays upon the primal fears of man; Of the unknown and of malignant, encroaching darkness.

A cloak of black feathers enshrouds the wearer. Beneath this outer layer is a sturdy, tight-fitting, black coat adorned with all manner of pouches and compartments. Finally, there is a thin yet durable set of shirt and pants, also in black. This disguise is grim enough as it is, but coupled with the mask that looks part plague doctor, part raven, it is both menacing and highly efficient.

Wearing this thing is not the most comfortable feeling in the world, but considering this world’s level of technology, I am genuinely impressed by the workmanship. Actually, how did that fellow even complete this work of art with such impossible time constraints? Perhaps he pushed past his limits thanks to the influence of the [Black Corona]? More questions that lack answers…

Outfitted with the malevolent [Raven’s Garb], I now must wittingly take on the moniker of [Falling Owl]. A persona not quite my own; A persona non grata, if you will.

Since coming to this world, I have inwardly berated the nonsensical duress forced upon me as I strive to accomplish my one and only goal. It is now that such impotent tidings will be given an outlet. But freedom is always a heartless mistress. To truly be free inevitably means to steal from another. As it was for those bank robbers, so it shall be for this [Falling Owl].

“{Quite a profound adage, I must say; “The clothes make the man”. Kyish shyi shyi shyi shyi!}”

As if to quench whatever motivation I have painstakingly nurtured, the clown appears before me at a time most foul. The taste of iron on my tongue, the vague ringing sensation in my ears, and most of all, the shattering headache, everything is greatly exacerbated by its presence.

Rather than falling into this clown’s pace, I choose to ignore it entirely. It is of neither mine nor my future endeavors’ best interest to be swayed at such an integral moment. With the added solidarity of anonymity provided by the [Raven’s Garb], I should quickly undo these rowdy fellows.

“{This thorny countenance suits you well, Wade. No matter how gaunt and sallow your face becomes, in the end, it’s still that of a measly human. If you are to embody the true fear, you’ll do well to cast aside such meniality, you see. I, for one, am overjoyed by this new atmosphere to the point of tears. Kyish shyi shyi shyi!}”

This thing seems to be severely misunderstanding my reasonings. Though such a thing is of little concern to me as of the current moment. Beyond what is relevant to my plans, nothing else matters. Though, the clown should also be aware of this disposition of mine, to which I am without even the faintest idea as to the real intentions behind such base harassment.

With the standard creaking movement, the clown replaces the mask of a grinning old man with one similar to my own. It is beyond unpleasant to share even one percent of a likeness with this vile entity. I am greatly tempted to remove my mask at once, but I must resist this urge.

(Your presence is tedious, clown. Speak your piece and be gone whence you came.)

“{Do contain your enthusiasm, Wade. It’s embarrassing when you look so happy to see me. Kyish shyi shyi shyi!}”

(Your humor is depraved, as is your entire existence. My priorities take precedence over playing the fool for one of your damn charades.)

“{Tsk tsk. To look a gift horse in the mouth is uncouth, Wade.}”

The mask is switched out for a clown with a tear beneath its eye. The gesture was far more subdued then is usual, but I know for a fact that this thing is devoid of such charming features. This is an act. Everything this thing does is theater.

(Hmm… I assume this comes laden with the typical baggage that you seem to enjoy burdening me with. If I were any the wiser, I would immediately put down such an ill-bearing gift horse.)

In fact, I have little interest in this conversation as it stands. Thus, I am investing only the faintest of concentration for this ploy. Most of my attention is focused on scouting and assessing the necessary information required for my mission. Entrances, exits, guards, and the like.

“{My, my, you certainly are a tough customer. But as I’m in a terribly good mood, I’ll gladly overlook this minor trifle. Kyish shyi shyi shyi.}”

(Hooo…? This is news to me, clown. To what do I owe the pleasure for such paradoxical chivalry?)

It is without question some deviant matter, to which I am in some way involved. Looking back, I have a few ideas that stand out. This is unpleasant.

“{Yes yes, it is as you surmise, Wade. I’m quite taken with your new form, you see. And while basking in the afterglow of such pleasant prospects, it came upon me to give you something which you’ve been desperately searching for. No doubt your rigid character cleanly prevents you from finding the answer that you seek. Kyish shyi shyi shyi}”

(You do realize this disguise is only for protection I assume. It is just like you to ignore any context not in your favor... No really, do enlighten me as to this supposed gift you feel entitled to dump upon me. I am quivering in anticipation.)

As in, I could not possibly care less…

“{That’s the spirit! Kyish shyi shyi shyi… Well, down to business. As you’ve become mildly acquainted with it already, I shouldn’t have to introduce you. The power that you so limply dabble with… What do you call it…?}”

(The [Black Corona]...)

“{Kyish shyi shyi shyi shyi shyi!! Oh, Wade, you threaten my composure! It’s as if a child were to label that which it has no understanding of… Though I suppose it should suffice in this context. Kyish shyi shyi shyi.}”

Annoying! If you are going to agree with me in the end, do not make a show of it to begin with. This antagonism is heinous. I am severely running low on the patience I have allotted this bastard.

“{The “[Black Corona]”, or however you put it, is far too grand in scale for your paltry vessel as of yet. I believe you may have noticed, but I’m afraid this is true in my case as well. I’ve attempted to contain it behind a myriad of sealing techniques, but it’s proven somewhat uncooperative, you see. Its existence ties to your coordinates, which explains why the leakage permeates your vicinity, but this is beside the point…}”

You have glossed over some rather key points while meandering that I would argue are in need of immediate disambiguation… Not that I should expect any results on this matter. This thing sure likes to talk, considering how tightly his lips are usually sealed. His mask has changed to a chubby jovial-looking one unbeknownst to me.

“{If you’re to ever become fit for accepting this power, there are some points I should clarify; Limitations, if you will. That is to say, this power requires a medium to which it can influence, you see. However, the degree of influence is limitless. It is that kind of power. Kyish shyi shyi shyi.}”

…

“{Oh my, it appears your brain has become alight with formulations. This is a splendid development, Wade. It’s well worth the trouble I faced bringing this information. Ahh, if only I could divulge more knowledge at this point in time. I’d certainly enjoy myself to no end if you display such a heated reaction. Kyish shyi shyi shyi.}”

Ignoring most of what this thing says has become second nature already. Filter out all the harmful byproducts, leaving only the information in its pure crystallized form. This clown seems to have no intention of assisting me concerning my goals, so I will ignore his depressing banter in turn.

Needless to say, the potency of the conferred information this time is a pleasant surprise. Though I must admit, I am disappointed that I could not work out the mechanics on my own. It would have taken quite a few more steps, but I would have eventually produced results on that front. However, the other bits I have gleaned from the conversation certainly would have escaped me.

(I shall refrain from giving you my gratitude, clown. Instead, I shall disclose some information of my own. Whether this is of any interest to one such as yourself, is entirely none of my concern.)

“{I see... Quid pro quo, is it? Though it may not have been my intention this time, your defenses are as tight as ever, Wade. You’ll never make any friends with an attitude like that, now will you? Kyish shyi shyi shyi}”

Friends, huh… What is that? Are such things beneficial to someone who cannot even form attachments in this life? Whatever…

(Irrelevant matters aside, it seems that you are not the only one with foul hobbies who have attached themselves to me. It is of a barely recognizable nature, but there have been some fellows tailing me since long before I arrived at Fort Wayfield. Whether it is related or not, I have also been conveyed a rather vivid precognitive vision.)

…

The clown seems to have found this information most unpalatable. The mask has changed to an expressionless white as if to hide any kind of emotions boiling beneath it. I would be elated if such an emotion was even possible for me.

Severe. This is the only way I can describe the atmosphere surrounding us. The deep rumble which resonates whenever enough [Dark Radiation] accumulates in one place begins to make my ear canals tingle. This clown’s facade is slipping.

(Oi! Hold it together you hair-trigger bastard! Think of the TPO before having a meltdown. Not getting your own way is no reason to wipe a whole town from existence! I sure as hell cannot control this much energy, you know!)

Taking the time I fought the golem as a reference, this is quickly leaving the realm of merely fun and games. This is an absurd amount of energy; Five times more than I can confidently handle as of the moment. Not to mention, it would be highly unlikely anything within tens of kilometers would be making it out alive.

With a rather pronounced cracking sound, a fracture appears on the top left of the clown’s mask. A gut-clenching chill runs down my spine. A terrible, terrible thing begins to seep into the back of my mind. What……… Is this…?

(You…!)

Ahh… This is not good…

“{Oh dear... It appears I have become a bit complacent as things were going so very well. Ah… I see…}”

While in a daze, the clown unsteadily reaches towards the mask to replace it. Almost like a black hole, the pressure that had been so suffocating before is sucked into the mask at a tremendous rate. Silence once again pervades the town’s nightscape. All is as it should be… Or so it should have been.

“{It is most unfortunate, Wade, but I must attend to another matter posthaste, you see. You have my gratitude for the heads-up regarding the uninvited guests. It certainly caught me off guard, I must admit. Kyish shyi shyi…}”

The laugh, which grates on my nerves even on the best of occasions, instead falls eerily flat. The Noh mask expressionlessly quivers with rage. If I had known my words would be as invidious as this, I would have chosen a more appropriate time and place. Practice what you preach…

“{Well then, best of luck in your endeavors, Wade. I’m sure these poor bastards will rue ever having crossed paths for the rest of their miserable little lives. Kyish shyi shyi shyi!}”

With those words, the clown dissipates into a fog and disperses into the darkness of the night. Only this once am I too tired to mention my distaste for our thoughts having coincided. The emptiness and futility of my existence are pouring out like a fountain, staining the tides of fortune black.

Anew, I am reminded of that which lurks beyond the brink. The wound is freshened and raw. The smile, of which I am fully aware is not one of happiness or mirth. It is an uncensorable, disquieting evil, in its purest of forms.

Once, I sold my soul to the devil himself. I am evermore burdened with the consequences of that unholy transaction. My flesh has rotted and my heart has withered until there is nothing left. And yet, in spite of all of these inescapable facts, I would not hesitate to do it all again. I have already taken the poison… I might as well finish my damn plate…

“Let the show begin…”