“...well?”

“Well, first of all, those shadow creatures are what I was worried about at the Travelling Arena. A dead's soul is devastated when it returns. The parts that survive linger in the dead or are split even more and are bound to trash. That trash is hidden in mounds of dirt and causes no trouble... until countless years pass. Something happens and perfectly shows the consequences of lazy trash disposal -- those creatures were nothing more than food scraps years ago. And, second of all, Everia is... Everia. You saw it. You felt it. It can control a feeble mind. I made a mistake by not protecting you from that. But I wouldn’t have even needed to do so if you hadn’t forgotten the urn.”

That's... sort of an answer, but you ignored most of what I wanted to know.

I'll ask again and see how you try to wiggle out while keeping silent.

“Why did it need to fool us? Why didn’t you destroy it with the words in your journal?! What was all that you said to that creature?”

Hunter picked a smoke out of his pocket. “I won’t ex--”

“I didn’t mean that as a question.” Jack's blood started to boil.

“I didn’t mean to be interrupted,” he said with a completely different tone. “Why would I explain anything? To you nonetheless!”

Jack took a deep breath. Here it goes -- all or nothing. I'm not playing around anymore.

“You know why? I realize I was a fool, I realize I don’t know who you really are, I can’t trust you,” he spoke, contempt in his voice. “But I’m certain of one thing: this form of you can barely survive without me.”

Hunter chuckled for a moment then, momentarily, his face became straight.

“Alright. Truth.”

***

“The Hall of Ceremony didn’t start as the well-kept secret crypt of the Brunos or as the underground castle of a king vying for power. This place was a phenomenon of the unreal, of myths and of tales,” the old man spoke. “People didn’t put it here: It was discovered and expanded to its full glory by someone greater than human. Those beings lived within it until the creature I like to call Everia came.”

“How do I know this isn’t an elaborate lie all over again?”

“You won’t know. Letting you wouldn’t make sense for me. But I’ll continue telling this story and you can pray that it’s true. See, Everia was strong--but most importantly--different. The most powerful beings on this planet could fight it, but they couldn’t win. It follows different rules.”

“The most powerful beings on this planet,” Jack muttered. The powers that be? “You one of them?”

“Sure, sure… You can say so. Being around them turned me into one.”

“Everia’s too, just different?”

Hunter shook his head. “It is a step above”

How can you be a step above the highest being?

“We were more powerful than anyone and did what we wanted within the rules of the world. We couldn’t alter everything and we couldn’t change the rules. And that’s the difference between us and Everia. That thing can do whatever it wants.”

“So--”

“As long as no one fights to stop it. When we ran from this place and from this plain of existence, we left a lot of power here. What angers me is that when we all whimpered, Everia had a lot less strength. But it claimed the Hall of Ceremony’s power for itself, corrupted the deadmen and ravaged the whole place. It got strong to a point where even breaking the rules wouldn’t kill it.”

Grabbing on to Hunter’s hand, Jack got himself up. Dirty blood covered him and his muscles were sore, but, overall, his state was fine.

I’ll assume Hunter’s not lying though his past tales sound similar to this one. Guess he’s mixing in bits of truth every time he’s telling me a “grand” revelation.

“So,” Jack said. “We’ll be a mercenary and a former god fighting a god’s god?”

“Sure, sure…”

“Now that you’re speaking truth… is the reason why we’re on this journey still the same?”

“You shan’t know. Like I said before, the winding road to the Heart of the Hall of Ceremony will tell you all. Right now the only important things are getting the damn urn back, defeating Everia and reaching the Heart.”

Alright, you don’t want to answer that. “Why didn’t you finish it off with those words in your journal? You only made it disappear--or teleported it away--didn’t you?” What about this?

“Things will become obvious once--”

“I don’t need things to become obvious in a while, I need the truth!”

“You want the truth? Well, we were almost at the Heart, you fool! A few hours following the Pathfinder would’ve led us to a way to the Grandest Chapter! Indeed, the Pathfinder was not necessarily who I thought it was, but following that thing for a while longer and then killing it would’ve been better than this shit! But what did you do?! Exactly the opposite of what I told you -- lost the damn urn!” Hunter snapped. “Sure, sure… You could feel the Gunpowder of the Deal’s power in your finger, how it pulsed and resonated? Well, that constant feeling meant we were close to the finish!”

I… I didn’t feel a constant pulse…

Sometimes, it buzzed and pulled me towards you… or… perhaps… no…

No way, you wouldn’t ever--

I can’t trust you, Jack reminded himself. You might be lying. Perhaps we were never near the end… Perhaps you never wanted to kill Everia...

I really don't like this, but I’m also locked to you so the only way to fix this is by going farther..

Hunter jerked his head and started walking. Jack followed him.

They climbed up a spire of dirt that opened a great view of the Hall of Ceremony and the paths that led through its valleys and mountains.

Jack’s legs trembled from the size of the fall.

“Sure, sure… Forget it. None of that matters, absolutely nothing, until we get that urn. I won’t sleep, I won’t eat and I won’t breathe if it means getting it back.”

Jack stepped away from the edge of the spire. How the hell do we even begin doing that?

“There are two ways I can think of.” Hunter said.

Do you actually read my thoughts?

“I’ve already decided: we’re going to set a trap. Firstly, we get out of here and collect ourselves a few dozen glasses of exacoram. See, it’s one of the only things in this world that also doesn’t follow its rules. And luckily it works like fire against a hound: Everia fears it and cannot get past it,” Hunter explained.

“Exacoram? Greenechemy isn’t my strongest suit, but I do remember that name. Isn’t it blood mixed with every other greenechemy ingredient?”

“Human blood.”

“How much did you say we need?”

“Enough to fill… a small lake, I think. The trap is that we lure Everia, get the urn and throw it in the exacoram. There, it’ll be safe as we finish dealing with the creature and its servants.”

“You want to fill a lake with blood?!”

“Human blood.” Hunter cleared his throat. “And the lake won’t be big. Sure, sure… A pond, you could say.”

“If this is the way you chose.” Jack started rapidly breathing shallow breaths. “How awful must the other one be?”

“The other one… kid… well, we’ll have to make it past the Sea of Gallows and reach the Cups of Eternity -- a place which contains so much power only the Heart compares.”

“And?” Jack waved. “What is at those Cups of Eternity?”

“Well, there we’ll have to conjure the cups’ power by drinking their liquid and facing the three visions.” Hunter’s voice was monotone. “Their power is so strong that it can teleport the urn right into our grips or teleport us to it.”

“And… those visions?”

“We believe them to last five minutes each though no one knows what you can see. No one even tried conjuring their power before. That’s why they’re still there.”

Jack’s hands began shaking in anticipation. “And?”

“That’s it.”

His jaw dropped then his brow furrowed. “That’s it?”

Hunter nodded.

“You’d rather cause a literal bloodbath, kill hundreds of people, gather almost extinct ingredients and put yourself at risk facing a god instead of just… drinking out of a cup?!”

The old man shrugged.

***

“You’re… you’re joking?”

“Damn me if I am.”

“Are you that sick and twisted--”

“I was never human at heart and I don’t care I kill one or one hundred.”

“Though I care--”

“You see, killing is only getting blood on my coat, but you cannot begin to imagine the Cups of Eternity or what surrounds them. That place scares even me and conjuring its power can be a tremendous risk. I’d rather kill than take it.”

Jack shook his head and gritted his teeth. He was getting angry, but he also knew that was futile.

The Gunpowder of the Deal protected him, but also protected Hunter.

“I’ll stop you from killing those people, no matter what way. You simply cannot do that! I’ll throw away the Gunpowder of the Deal or feed it to a deadman if I can stop you.”

Hunter tossed the bloody Gunpowder of the Deal at Jack.

Confused and frustrated, Jack held the relic in front of himself for a moment. Then, he threw it with all his strength, his muscles aching from the sudden movement.

The bullet disappeared in the layers of fog.

Seconds later, an incredible force pulled on Jack’s finger. It was like something tugged from one side while pushed from the other. Unlike the other times when the relic’s power affected Jack, it was unignorable.

He tripped, but held on, trying to keep his balance.

Then, the force became many times stronger.

Jack fell into the dirt, but managed to grab on to it.

The invisible power started pulling him along the ground.

Nearing the ledge, he cried out, his fear of heights dizzying him. His hands managed to slow him down, but not fast enough as his legs left the comfort of the hard surface, making half of his body dangle off the ledge.

Hunter’s foot landed on Jack’s hand. He squealed from the pain.

Something whooshed by Jack’s ear. The old man caught the Gunpowder of the Deal.

“Sure, sure… Do whatever you like,” he said. “Say whatever you want, but remember that you won’t beat my will and will certainly not beat sorcery.”

Hunter stepped off. Jack remained tense and full of fear for a moment before clambering back up.

Powers that be, I’m such a fool, Jack thought, crawling to his feet. Why did I even say something like that?

Everia or the Hall of Ceremony don’t seem to have gotten into my mind.

I’m simply just an idiot.

To persuade him, I really need an ingenious argument--

“First of all, you couldn’t kill Everia now. What makes you think another encounter won’t bring you certain death?” Jack quickly said a dozen ideas that had come to his mind. “It’ll be even more prepared, now that it knows all too well how you fight. It’ll get into my mind again and will certainly make me do something way worse than just running away. Secondly, how will we get out of here? Every door behind us is shut. We even got in here through a one way gate up in the cemetery!”

Hunter mumbled something under his breath.

“Let’s go to the Cups of Eternity then.”

...What? You just… agreed like that?

No, it won't be that easy. It can't.

***

They slumbered down the dirt spire as the tension dwindled. Jack’s pain faded to occasional jolts of burning and the heat within him calmed down. The culmination of everything had almost boiled his blood and broken his mind. There was still a lot of worry inside him, but he didn’t have the energy to tackle it.

They continued in silence, passing valley after valley.

So quiet after that battle… this peace heals like any potion.

Hunter coughed and snapped his fingers. “Sure, sure… Might not seem like it from here, but only a few hundred feet and we’ll be on the shore.”

“A few hundred feet? Looks like dozens of miles.”

“Compared to what Everia did to you, the Hall of Ceremony’s mind altering effects seem weak. They are mild, sometimes you only notice once you look really hard, but you can’t disregard them -- they might make you fall of a cliff making you think it’s a rock.”

Jack nodded along, trying--and failing--to muster up anything in response. He enjoyed the stillness more than anything and… well, he couldn’t listen to the old man without assuming all he said was a lie.

It had taken a lot of time for Jack to realize Hunter was unlike Guardian. That realization also let him presume that meant the old man was good. He made a mistake in thinking that. An incredible mistake.

Yet, after a minute, Jack looked intently at the depressing surroundings. Then he realized why his instincts felt an ambush coming so often.

All along, the surroundings had shifted, plots of ground became different colors and the mist changed shape.

Jack grabbed his satchel, an idea brewing in his mind.

The paper had smudged and wrinkled while the coal was cracked in half. They were far from being in the best shape. Though he didn’t need them to as he started scribbling down his thoughts, observations and a few other things.

***

Hunter pointed at an opaque wall of fog in front.

What? When did that get there? Jack thought, startled.

He pocketed his paper and coal, making sure Hunter couldn’t get a glimpse of the words and got the man’s hand off himself.

“We’ve arrived,” Hunter grumpily said.

The beginning of this journey’s darkest part, Jack thought then spoke, “Sea of Gallows?”

Nodding, Hunter crept into one of the huge blocks of fog that lingered. “Stay behind me and stay quiet,” he whispered.

Jack waited until the fog engulfed the old man and the harsh force pulled on his finger before following.

The black dirt under his feet shifted into wet mud and the footsteps ahead faded.

Jack quickened his pace and raised his arms in a T shape to keep balance.

Hunter stopped, glancing left and right. Then he put the slowest possible step forward.

“Be extra careful here,” he uttered.

Jack walked into the spot where the old man had stood, looked left and right himself, and put his foot forward.

What’s the caution for?

A moment later, Jack ended up answering his own question: his feet couldn’t reach the bottom of the dirt and kept sliding back into the same spot whenever he tried to move.

“Shit, could you give me a hand?”

Hunter responded with nothing. Not a word. Not a murmur. Not even a damn glance.

“Hey!” I’m stuck!

Hunter disappeared in another wall of fog ahead.

Jack grunted, his knees submerging in the mud. The deeper he sank, the more panic came over him. He tried taking careful steps out and plain swimming, but everything brought him down. A few seconds later, half of his torso drowned and his freaked out heart caused a little tremor in the muck.

Calm down -- panicing’s just making it all worse.

What if I try and escape like I escape ice? Jack spread his arms on the surface of the mud and breathed in.

The dirt at the bottom of his toes was becoming hot.

I really need to get out now.

Pulling together all his strength and attention, Jack managed to get an inch forward. He did it again until he reached a solid part of dirt that didn’t sink. With it in his grip, struggling, he neared a big island of solid matter he could get atop.

Don’t want to experience that ever again.

Jack trudged through the fog and reached Hunter. Again, the old man stood still, staring at his feet. This time, there was something more than mud.

Jack furrowed his brow. It unnerved him, but definitely didn’t shock him.

“Those are the bones of a god’s former body.”