“…will he be okay…?”

“…wounds not too shallow…”

“…everyone, keep silent about…”

Voices circled high up around Adam, like distant birds in the night sky. He found himself immersed in the worst form of unconsciousness: the type where he could half-think, but could not move. A shudder ran through a foggy mind. Numbness coated his senses, restraining dull aches. He was either sick or beaten up and at the mercy of whoever was surrounding him.

A person stared down at him amongst darkness lit my torches, their hands on his pulse. Adam tried to get his mouth to open, to tell them to piss off. By the time the thought finished connecting through his brain, the scenery had shifted. Cold wind blew on his face. His nose bristled at the scent of fresh grass and pollen. His head lolled to the side with nothing by it. Someone must be cradling him.

A metallic screech. Crunching footsteps fading into gentle thuds upon concrete. More voices.

“…we’re home…”

“…both injured!”

“…take him to the clinic…”

Oh? That last voice…he knew it, yes? That girl with the fluffy black hair and posh accent. Lucy. Right. Her and that hot-headed blondie, Saria. They had fought off the vagrants, as promised. And they had mentioned a home of theirs.

He supposed he needed to thank them. It’s what Mary would’ve wanted. She always made a point to thank those who helped her family out. Even when she had been part of the help, too.

He fell asleep before his brain could ask why Mary was connected to this whole ordeal in the first place.

He found himself waking up in an unfamiliar place at an unknown time, yet again. It was happening a little too frequently for his tastes. At least he was prepared for this time.

A beige ceiling, blank save for a single source of light. The lightbulb had been torn off and replaced with a bulky, brick-shaped lamp. A window was positioned on the wall to his right, its shutters were drawn shut. Adam sat up and promptly winced. It was the acidic, tearing pain that came from muscle damage, originating from his front temple. He looked down and saw his torso wrapped in bandages. A dull brown spot was in the middle of it.

How did I get this? He brushed his hand over the spot. There was a puncture there. Did I get stabbed? No, it’s too wide.

He wouldn’t be brawling anytime soon, regardless.

He slumped back down again the pillow. It threatened to swallow him back up into the land of dreams. He was tired. Not unfamiliar. Not unexpected.

“You’re awake.”

He turned his head to the side. “Hey.” He said. His throat ached. Sandpaper came to mind. “It’s you two.”

Lucy at in a chair next to his bed, while Saria stood at the doorway, her arms crossed. Both were still in those same black uniforms Adam had seen them in. A bedside table stood next to Lucy, stocked with small bottles and a roll of bandages.

“Hello, Adam,” Lucy said. Her cheeks were puffed with bruising. The front of her forehead was wrapped with a bandage. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Absolute garbage,” Adam said. “My chest hurts. My head is also fuzzy.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

“What are our names?”

“Lucy and Saria.”

“Well, he’s not brain-damaged, at the very least,” Saria remarked.

“Here, have some water.” Lucy passed over a mug. Adam sipped from it, letting the cool liquid revitalize his parched mouth. His stomach accepted it and then grumbled. The sound bounced around the room.

“Saria, go and fetch his meal, quick,” Lucy said.

The other girl left without looking back. A minute later and she returned with a bowl and plate on a tray. Adam sat up and allowed Saria to place the tray on his knees. She avoided eye contact with him the entire time.

The meal consisted of a bowl of sticky porridge topped with slice vegetables, slices of dried meat, and a handful of blue berries. Adam shoved a mouthful of the porridge into his mouth. It was salty, textured like oatmeal, and thick as mud. It was also food and Adam devoured, pausing in between to feast on the meat and berries. He ended the meal with the light burp, uncaring of the two girls in the room.

“How are you feeling, now?” Lucy asked.

“Better. Are we in West Junction now?”

“Yes, we’re in one of our clinic rooms. It’s not a very impressive looking place, I know, but it gets the job done.” Lucy said.

“Man, I’ve spent my life in shitty-looking places,” Adam said. “Don’t worry about it. And, uh, thanks for bringing me here.”

Lucy did not respond. The relieved look upon seeing him wake up morphed into one of seriousness.

“If I had tried to make my way through the city I’d probably gotten eaten by a vagrant or something.” Adam continued. Might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible. “It was terrifying getting chased by the horde, yet you both protected my sorry ass like you said you would. So, again, thanks. Sorry for doubting you both. It must’ve been tough.”

Instead of hearing a ‘no problem’, Lucy let out a small sigh. Saria’s teeth clenched. She affixed him with a glare.

“Yeah, it was tough.” She grunted out.

“I owe you both one.”

“You do,” Saria said. “In fact, you owe the whole of West Junction.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Adam demanded. He was apologizing and Saria was getting wound up, instead of being thankful like a normal person. What was with her? He examined her and she affixed him with a glare right back.

He almost snarled at her, then he studied that glare closer. She was pissed at him, but her heart wasn’t fully in it. Her glare lacked the force behind her previous ones. Part of her wanted to beat the snot out of him, while the other seemed appreciative, perhaps even thankful.

There had been times where Adam’s brawls resulted in him unwittingly protecting one of his rivals. It was never his intention; he could have easily walked past, had he not had a stake in the fight. Those rivals whom he protected knew it, but they made sure to say their thanks in that same, conflicted, half-frightened half-grateful attitude. It was just good street manners.

“If you’ve got a problem, just say it.” He said.

“Adam, do you recall what happened after we got ambushed?” Lucy asked.

“You girls shot and threw bombs at the horde, then we ran into a mall.” Adam recited. “We went up to the second floor. You told me to stay in a kitchen while the two of you fought off the horde.”

“And then?” Saria prompted.

He tried to think. “I don’t know. You two won, right?”

“Yes, we did,” Lucy said. “But after that, we had a bit of a problem.”

“A problem involving you, Adam,” Saria added. “Think harder. Go back to what you did in the fight.”

He racked his brains again. He was sitting in the kitchen, listening to the fight. The door back creaked open and a vagrant rushed out. He couldn’t fight it off, so he tried to find something to defend himself with. His bag had a…

“…the bottle,” Adam whispered. “I took the bottle and drank from it.”

Himself chugging a bottle of red as if it were wine. His muscles convulsing, a bursting sensation enveloping his chest, his threat threatening to explode and…

…oh, that was him. It was happening again in real-time.

“Breathe. Breathe.” Lucy repeated, clutching his hand. He snatched it away, reeling back in his seat on the bed.

“What the hell happened to me?” Adam asked. He suddenly felt hot all over. His head stung again. “What did I do?”

“Yeah, you went berserk, Adam! It’s what happens when a human consumes too much red.” Saria exclaimed, marching over next to Lucy. “You mutated into a monster and tried to kill us!”

“What? No way.”

“Yes, way! You see those bruises on Lucy’s cheek? It’s because you grabbed her by the hair and bashed her against the wall!”

Adam stared at Lucy in horror. Now that he looked closely, those were indeed wounds from getting punched.

"We told you weren’t allowed to without our permission, so why did you ignore it?”

The words left his mouth without thinking. “What was I supposed to do, just let the vagrants eat me? I needed the strength.”

“You could have called us, dumbass!” Saria shouted. “We would’ve rushed right over to help!”

“I thought you and Lucy were busy fighting out there!”

“So you didn’t think we could win?” Saria said. “Is that what it is?”

“You expect me to trust two girls I’ve barely met?”

“Both of you, calm down, now!” Lucy shouted, slamming her foot against the floor. Saria tensed up, her hand clenched in a fist, then backed off. Adam folded his arms and turned his head the other way. Once the tension eased off, Lucy continued, “Neither of us is blameless in this. Adam, it’s true that you ignored our instructions about consuming the red. It’s also true you almost killed both of us in your berserk state. However, that is also due to our failings.”

Lucy then stood up. The chair slid back with a faint squeak. Saria’s mouth opened in disbelief. “We did not inform you about the red, as we wished to stay silent throughout the escort back. Later on, we failed to properly check the kitchen for potential entry points, due to the incoming horde. These are our reasons, yet they are not excuses, and we are both truly sorry for our mistakes.”

Lucy bowed, causing Adam to choke on air. Saria glanced back and forth between her friend and Adam, then dropped into the same bow.

“The hell you two doing?”

“This is a demonstration of remorse,” Lucy answered. “It is how we apologized back in Astraea.”

Adam recoiled as if the act of repenting physically assaulted him in the face. It was the ray of run and he was the vampire shrieking with pain at its goodness. “Stop. Just stop, both of you, you’re going too far. Look, I fucked up too.” He pointed at himself. “I didn’t listen and I turned into some freaky asshole that almost killed you both. I’m the one who should be apologizing, damn it.”

God, if this ended up as some reverse psychologic tactic for him to own up…well, he’d be impressed. As well as wanting to deck them in the faces, too.

“We good now? Everything all clear?”

“…at least you admit it,” Saria said. She and Lucy exited her bows. The latter seemed relieved. The former was not.

“Anyway, about the red.” Adam said, “Tell me more about it since you didn’t get the chance to.”

The proper term was soul energy, coined by academics who combed through the transported civilizations. The rest of the populace called it red, due to its color. The nature of this world allowed it to seep out of the soul and become malleable by the soul’s owner. It allowed humans to achieve superhuman prowess, such as increased physical strength, agility, and durability. They could even perform otherwise supernatural feats, such as short-range teleportation or the conjuring of fire. If imbued in an object, its quality would increase.

“Only briefly,” Lucy said, holding up Adam’s gloves. They had been removed to check for wounds. “See how these have run out of power?”

She held out her palm. A red aura pulsed from the center, congealing into a small, translucent ball. “This is how we manipulate it.”

Adam flexed his fingers, but nothing happened.

“You need the sense to use it,” Saria said. “We came from a world of magic, but since you did it’s gonna take a bit of work.”

For those who came from magicless worlds, its presence was almost a gift, granting them superhuman prowess and feats. To the maidens of Astraea, it was a disease that mutated the blessed mana inside their systems, yet were forced to rely upon nonetheless.

As for the catch…Adam already experienced it firsthand.

“The monsters too. Vagrants, tumor beasts, and stuff.” Saria explained. “Leftover red make them from leftover corpses. It’s because the red feeds of human emotion and that doesn’t completely go away when they die. We have to cremate the dead now.”

Adam asked what a tumor beast was. Saria told him. He stuck his tongue out in disgust. The girl seemed strangely satisfied at that.

“Do you understand the red now?” Lucy asked, upon finishing the explanation. “Yes? Good. Now for the second part.”

“There’s more?” Adam said.

“Think back to the trial, where you climbed up the pyramid,” Lucy said. “What did the voice tell you?”

“It said called me a Pactbearer,” Adam said. “The light was golden though, not red. Is it important?”

“Very damn important,” Saria muttered. The awkwardness was back, hanging in the air like a bad smell.

“Was I supposed to mention that earlier?” Adam asked.

“It would’ve been nice, but considering the circumstances, not really,” Lucy said. “Saria and I and many others weren’t granted that title. Instead, we are Exiles.”

“Exiled from what?”

“Our worlds, duh,” Saria said. Adam raised an eyebrow. “Okay, we don’t know. It’s what the voice called us. Don’t expect to hear back from it, ‘cause we haven’t heard it in a year and a half.”

“Pactbearers are exceedingly rare. For every fifty thousand Exiles, there exists one Pactbearer. And they are powerful, due to the pacts they forge with Exiles. They share their strength, gives them mutual benefits, and most importantly, calms the volatility of the red inside of them.” Lucy said. “Exiles who involve themselves in Pact run less risk of going berserk. It’s a huge reason why they are all sought after.”

“When we defeated you, golden light streamed out of your palms. That’s how we know you are one.” Saria said.

“Let me guess, I made a pact with you and I can’t remember it.”

“Close,” Lucy said, with a half-smile. “You made one with Saria.”

“What!” Adam cried. “Why her?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” Saria protested. “Lucy was too banged up. Also, you were about to die.”

“Wait a minute…this wound on my chest. Did you shoot me?”

“Yes, she did. Yes, it happened.” Lucy said. “Can you talk about something else, please?”

“So, what’s going to happen to me?”

“That’s up for debate,” Lucy said. “We hope that you co-operate with West Junction.”

“Since you don’t have a home anymore.”

Haven’t had one for seven years. Adam thought. This Pactbearer business sounded important. Valuable. Oh shit, I have a real bargaining chip here. Might not be a full house, but it’s at least a three of a kind.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Lucy said, standing up. “Get some rest, Adam. Once you’re healed we’ll take you to Brigid—our former commander.”

“She’s in charge of our defenses in the town,” Saria said. “You better curb that potty mouth of yours, or we’ll be forced to rinse it out with soap!”