If the megastructure was alive, it was fast asleep. Windows of black glass stared down like a million lidless inattentive eyes. The ground itself hummed deeply with the breath of machines Hazahnahkah did not understand. More of those triangles with plasma hung suspended under the firmament, like wingless phantoms sleepwalking. Not a single person commanded anything in this place. Its doors passively obeyed every step Yurreth took. They even obeyed hooves. Yurreth’s horses shuffled and snorted uncomfortably, ears twitching as the coachmen urged them onward.

  Zalaster frowned at them. “Yurreth, what was the point of bringing carriages all this way up? Do we still need remnants from the Orphanspawn’s Tower?”

  “Maybe,” Yurreth said. “But what we really need now is the stock.”

  “The… horses?”

  “Yes. These carry dormant equine herpesvirus. So long as we are with them we’re considered a biohazard scheduled for quarantine.”

  “And… this is a good thing?” Hazahnahkah asked.

  “Yes, because they let us in.”

  It was true, most gates opened for them without trouble. Usually when the word “quarantine” was used it was to isolate the sick from the healthy, the sword wasn’t quite sure how letting “patients” run amok was any kind of isolation. But Yurreth’s plan worked. As long as no one antagonized the strange forces which possessed the realm, they were free to explore. At last they reached a large circular plate surrounded by circular plates. It reminded Hazahnahkah of the crop circles they had seen earlier in Black Garden, as well as the entrance that he had been the “key” too. It didn’t strike him as odd that Yurreth would place him in it. She jiggled him a bit, grunted, then withdrew him and impaled him once more into the ground. She cursed.

  “No, this isn’t right.” Yurreth muttered. She stood tall, scanning amongst the carriages before shouting. “Galfarys! Where are you?”

  Galfarys was gone.

  A servant rushed to her feet. “What’s happened?”

  “Galfarys has betrayed us. I believe he has overlaid the sword’s holes with runes.”

  “My holes?” Hazahnahkah asked. “Why?”

  “You have data imprinted within you. Covering the holes obfuscates that data. Without it, this entire station isn’t going to be able to help us—or anyone in Serpent’s Ramble. We won’t even be able to leave.”

  Hazahnahkah wasn’t quite sure what data was. He likened Galfarys’ actions to scrambling messages or sunlight. “I can change this with my Third Terror.”

  “I thought your Third Terror cannot manipulate yourself?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “It’s only obvious. Otherwise you would have healed from Vrast. This isn’t something you can “fix” Haz. The data is a part of you. I don’t know how Galfarys knew about it, but we would need to understand what he painted against what was originally there. There’s a strong chance the Swordpriest never stopped dreaming Vrast’s dreams.”

  Wherever Knife was, Hazahnahkah wasn’t going to just allow her to do whatever it was that she wanted. If he needed to use his new Ramble now, then that was what he was going to do. He pooled the dips, holes, and channels of his blade with paint. A brand new hilt grew out from him, and Yurreth’s eyes widened as she pulled it free. It was a brand new Hazahnahkah. A copy. Hazahnahkah called this new Ramble Painter's Palette, which could paint his Three Terrors into reality through automated commands he gave it. The real strength was its delegation. He didn’t need to manipulate it once it was created. The behavior was predetermined beforehand. Hopefully, it worked as intended.

  “It’s a version of myself from over one year ago as I remember it. This should be more than enough.”

  “It is—”

  A spear flashed—Lahahm. Blood burst into the air as Yurrreth’s arm went hurling across the roadside. Then, a spearbird plunged into her eye. She grabbed it reflexively, and its flesh blossomed into a White Tiger twice the size of an elephant. It stomped on her several times, but Hazahnahkah blocked each blow with a layer of carbon created from his Second Terror. Bankanzaku roared with frustration, digging a scorpion tail into the barriers. His poison ate through the carbon like termites through wood, until it didn’t. Hazahnahkah activated his Third Terror. Bankanzaku was teleported back up with faster acceleration. He was now plunging 100 meters a second towards them, flesh frying from the friction of his descent. His regeneration quickened. Even while he burned he managed to transform, twisting into an unnamable leviathan of the sky, spiraling with wings as numerous as its fins. What came next was sudden but unsurprising.

  September 6th gave a hellish roar and grabbed one of Bankanzaku’s fins as he swam low through the air. Her heels ground up the path as he dragged her as far as he could, tilting like a chariot on two wheels. Yurreth carved out a large chunk of Bankanzaku’s flesh: organs spilled into the street, scales flew apart through windows, a deafening cry shook the world. A little shape leapt off his back—it was Nazaki. The boy landed by Lahahm and culled off Yurreth’s other arm, flipping out her shoulder from its socket like crabmeat from a shell. She howled with a sound Hazahnahkah had heard no wounded soldier ever made before; glee. The Woman Painted White whipped around and pinned the boy with the arm that had first been cut. It was already back. She forced his mouth open and then opened her own. A blue fluid began to pour out, poison perhaps. Hazahnahkah could not be a part of this. He made a promise to Hwayoung. Hazahnahkah teleported the boy to another street.

  The next moment, two men flanked Yurreth, completely identical. She cut one down, but the sword went through. He wasn’t an illusion. His baton met Yurreth’s face the next moment. Blood flew. Teeth spilled. The woman cracked her jaw back into place, but by then the other man had knocked out September 6th.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  For a brief moment the Orphanspawn convulsed, keeping her consciousness, but Hazahnahkah sensed constant electricity coursing through her. Her Ramble to share damage amongst her children deactivated. It would have killed them all.

  The two men fused into one. He was blonde haired and grey eyed. A long white suit with two swordcoats at each side covered him. “I won’t let you open it.”

  “Zalahak , Zalahak . I really expected better than this. You should have brought an Aeon.”

  “You won’t be able to control her, or anyone, out there in the deep dark.”

  “Ignoring me… you know how to get on a woman’s nerves.”

  Zalahak raised Lahahm. “Lahahm, maybe you can speak some sense into him.” He quickly took a defensive posture.

  This was all happening so fast. Hazahnahkah barely knew who this man was, or how he had gotten Bankanzaku of all people to assist him. It was doubtful either of them had good intentions, though.

  Hazahnahkah scanned the man, and found he was very unique. He was somehow hiding all of his physical attributes. Only one ability was obvious.

  Misdirecting Projection: Project a false body from a real one. Shroud all other information. This body has half the stats of the real body.

  Well, that's not good, Hazahnahkah thought.

  Yurreth lurched against him with a CLANG! The floor beneath them both webbed with Yurreth’s blood. She was trying to splash it on him. He was doing all he could to avoid it. Lahahm spoke through the clashing, pushing every word out between each spark with Hazahnahkah.

  “If you really believe it’s the right thing I can do, I can try,”

  Hazahnahkah hadn’t realized they were speaking to him. “Lahahm? What’s happening? What are you doing with Zalahak?”

  “Zalahak’s agreed to let us all go free in exchange for keeping Yurreth sealed,” Lahahm said.

  “Even Bankanzaku?”

  “Even Bankanzaku. That’s why he’s fighting.”

  “Then Zalahak is wrong. Even if Yurreth’s crimes are great, so too are Bankanzaku’s.”

  “Haz, do you really think all crimes are the same? Or even all sins?”

  “Lahahm, Zalahak has pulled a veil over your eyes as he has pulled the veil over all of Serpent’s Ramble. If it takes a criminal to liberate the people to a better life and better world, then that is the side I take. I fight for the people.” Hazahnahkah activated his Second and Third Terrors. He reduced Zalahak’s speed to a thousandth of what it was. He duplicated Yurreth’s slashes so that each time she swung him, it struck ten times instead of once.

  Zalahak was quickly overwhelmed. His eyes darted towards Hazahnahkah, but he pointed at Yurreth instead. “Holomatrix: Ramble cancellation.”

  “CANCELLING RAMBLE,” the sphere behind him said.

  Whatever it was, Hazahnahkah wouldn’t let it do anything. He activated his Terrors to destroy it. The Terrors bounced back.

  No, they were parried and overcome, Hazahnahkah realized with disbelief. These weren’t the powers of his Ramble, they were something else. Poor imitations. Molecular patterns and paradigms designed to create the effects he brought about, and they were now placing him on the defensive. Whatever that sphere floating behind Zalahak was, it was strong. It was fighting him. Suppressing him. Hazahnahkah wasn’t done yet. He activated his Terrors to make it as if the sphere had never suppressed him at all. This didn’t work either. It wasn’t like when Knife had pilfered his Ramble. This was different. It was actively resisting him. He was just being met with an equal amount of force. Whatever this technology was, it was on par with him.

  Worst of all, it didn’t have any kind of identity about itself. Hazahnahkah could only estimate its physical attributes, for it had nothing else.

  Health (source of vitality and abilities): 100,000,000

  Energy (source of stamina and abilities): 100,000,000

  Agility (speed of actions): 50,000

  Regeneration (rate of recovery per hour for Health and Energy): 100,000,000

  Tenacity (resistance to unwanted effects): 100,000,000

  Strength (physical or mental reality manipulation potency): 1,000,000,000

  [Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon’s Abilities]

  Reality Manipulation: Can create and control various things.

  “Who are you!?” Hazahnahkah shouted.

  The sphere ignored him. It only replied to Zalahak. “REINSTATING RAMBLE CANCELLATION PROTOCOL. ATTEMPT: SUCCESSFUL.”

  “That— what?!”

  The pacing of Yurreth’s breath changed. They became deeper, weaker, as she struggled to keep up with the man. Her blood cell count was rapidly increasing and it siphoned at her strength. When Hazahnahkah tried to prevent this, he found his Terrors worked. He increased the Rapscallion’s blood cell count, healed her wounds, and heightened the oxygen levels in her body. This all worked. Yurreth grinned, breathing sipping the words in and out of her teeth as she increased her offensive against Zalahak. “Good… Hazahnahkah… very good!”

  A verbal confirmation. Perfect. So it was definitely working. But why? Hazahnahkah tried to use his Terrors on the sphere and Zalahak and they failed again. Nothing had changed. Hazahnahkah had only changed his target, not his intention. It protects itself and its wielder, he realized. Whatever this technology was, it seemed automated. It had no free will. Was it like those cameras? Did it use visuals or something else? Hazahnahkah created clones of Zalahak to see if he could distract it from protecting its target. This only caused Zalahak to grimace.

  “You’re really screwed up, Haz, you know that? Skill and spirit, you’re half the man you used to be. No… I would say you’re less.”

  Hazahnahkah wasn’t going to reply to this provocation. Yurreth had finally managed to impale Zalahak, realizing seconds later it was a fake. Hazahnahkah removed all his clones, then found Zalahak was among none of them. A slash bounced off Yurreth’s arm. Hazahnahkah had instinctively parried it with his Third Terror.

  It didn’t matter. It wasn’t aimed at Yurreth.

  It was aimed at him.

  “I’m sorry Haz,” Lahahm said.

  That was the last thing Hazahnahkah heard before he woke up.