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Tread Lightly: Among Monsters And Men

In a twisted version of the Old West, where Native American fables come to life, the land is teeming with blight and cessation. Skinwalkers, Bakwas, Urayuli, and even the dreaded Wendigo roam freely, constantly terrorizing humanity. In this unforgiving landscape, survival becomes the supreme dream, luxury an impossibility. But hope lies in Ether, an eccentric substance that defies reason, and Sigils, granting individuals extraordinary abilities. So, as men and women from the burgeoning East venture into the treacherous West, they must navigate the nightmares that lurk within the wilderness and the horrors from above, below, and within. Survival becomes a battle for the mind, body, and soul. Each step must be taken lightly, lest they fall prey to a grim fate—a forgotten corpse, a demon's feast, or the plaything of ancient and incomprehensible beings. Fools tread where angels fear to gaze, yet not all fools let themselves wilt. Some are simply too stubborn to break.

Broken_Saint · Action
Not enough ratings
484 Chs

Afterclaps

I wake up after an unknown amount of time in a strange place. An unknown location that, on the surface, I recognize is this particular section of the woods. However, still, I have no idea where it is. My body is incredibly sore. All over, I feel pain, and it hurts just to sit up. But I do after mustering up the strength to think about Edmund's corpse just sitting in the woods. To be eaten by scavengers.

Once I sit up, I notice two packs lying on a tree roughly fifteen feet away. They are Edmund's and mine. Then, before I go over to them, I try to assess my body's current situation, and it gives me an instant wake-up, removing all the sleepiness from my eyes.

I look down, and my shirt is absolutely torn, so bad that I just pull it off of me with little effort. And underneath the torn shirt, I see something that makes me gulp alongside an item that falls to the ground from my movement.

All across my torso are thin red pulsing panes of flesh. Like a piece of bloody skin was stretched over to fill a hole. There are at least twenty of these panes. And one is so thin on my chest that I can see my beating heart. And there are more than just those on my torso. I look carefully and find them all over my body, covering every wound I've sustained that wasn't already healed. I am momentarily confused about how this happened until my eyes glance over at the object that fell off me.

A pale, wrinkled, bloodless wrist connected to a palm and five fingers. It reminds me of the hand of a zombie. I touch it slowly, careful not to disturb or break the pieces of flesh that are literally keeping me in one piece. I feel something exit me, a strand of cold sensation entering my body. And now that I'm more used to Ether, I recognize it.

It's Ether leaving my body. The sensation is similar to how whenever I touched the Lily, it would make my hand cold. So maybe the Lily was taking Ether from me all along. But I had it before I got a Sigil, so what did it take before that? Unable to answer my own question, I think of another one.

If this is the Bloody Palm the woman spoke about and probably the healing artifact Alexos mentioned, how do I use it? I don't think now is the time to test it out, seeing how weak I am, but I should definitely do so in the future.

I push aside these thoughts and use the scraps of my old shirt to wrap up the palm before my attention returns to the bags.

I attempt to stand up and immediately feel woozy, starving, thirsty, and another thirty negative signs from the body that screams of emergency. So, instead, I settle for crawling over to the packs. And when I make it to them, I break open Edmunds to look for food to ease my starving stomach and water to satiate my mouth full of crusty iron-tanged blood.

Inside is jerky and several containers of water. I eat for quite a while, just enjoying being alive. Nothing has ever tasted better than this hard jerky and stale water. Then, I just watch my surroundings and the peaceful forest around me. Small glimpses of the previous fight for my life come to mind, but I force them aside in favor of the peaceful one. I do notice, however, that there is a blood-red circle roughly ten feet in diameter where I slept. All the plants have died from being soaked in the blood that the Bloody Palm produced for me.

After resting for about an hour during my meal, I rummage through my pack and grab what little I need. Just my old pocket watch and a firestarter. I pause for a second before remembering another thing and capturing them. The notes that Edmund gave me what feels like forever ago. I pull them out of the pack. A large stack of paper, unorganized but helpful, with little specks of blood here or there on the side. The cost of some battles where I fought with the pack on.

Then I put the items into Edmund's pack. Unfortunately, neither of our packs has a spare shirt, so I am forced to go shirtless with my pants torn up because of arrows and daggers, but still partially intact.

With the old man no longer here to teach me, I will need every scrap of information I can get, no matter how much I hate reading. Like, I need to know what the acute Ether saturation Alexos spoke about is. But there are more pressing matters, at least emotionally.

Then, I pick up Edmund's pack and unsteadily stand. With my head shaking and my legs wobbling, I walk to where his body last lay. While walking a few hundred feet, I feel a fever come over me. I begin sweating heavily, and my head pulses in pain, like when I use too much Ether. Then just as fast as it comes, it leaves, and a chill descends upon me. And the opposite happens; my body hurts instead of my head. The pain is so great I have to pause several times before walking just this few hundred feet.

And when I near it, I see a wooden cross above a mound of disturbed dirt. And atop the cross is a hat. Edmund's hat. The grave is much better constructed than when I made the grave for Ma. I scramble closer, hobbling the whole way but desperate to read the words that lie on its frame.

I fall to my knees once I get close enough to read the words drawn onto the cross with what was some knife, the alternating fever and hypothermia too much for me to handle at the moment. I read the words faster than anything I've ever read. Still, also the most carefully and attentively I have ever read.

"Here lies Edmund Dudley, The Bloodhound. Father of the Bloodbeast. Teacher of greats. Slayer of the Nocturne Tribe"

Then, underneath is the traditional phrase for those who die in combat. Ma told me of this long ago. Only Hunters who die fighting can be blessed with this phrase.

"May the Devil weigh in your favor."

The last sane god, The Devil, The Red Judge, The Arbiter of Chaos. The only time he will ever possibly skew his decision is if you gave your life in pursuing something more extraordinary than yourself. He is the one who chooses how your afterlife will be. Death only claims and drags you down to the Underworld to keep you. Or at least that's what the legends say. Who knows if that's all still true with Ether and whatnot?

Hell, it probably is.

I take a moment and repeat the phrase with total sincerity and thankfulness to the man who saved me. Saved me multiple times. Taught me so much. A kind old man to the end, he was. Giving me the Bloody Palm instead of using it for himself. I'm sure he knew what it did. He knew everything. I have to carry on for him. Take a little piece of him with me like I did the Loperd.

Before anything else, though, I do what Edmund would want me to. I sit beside the young grave under the cool sun of autumn and pull out the notes on Sigils and Ether that he had given me, hoping to find something about acute Ether saturation or what happens when a human dies with a sigil.

I glance through the pages, trying to find something helpful. There are probably close to thirty pages, with many becoming wrinkled from being in the pack for so long. They are still readable, though.

And of the first of the two questions plaguing my mind, I find the answer to the second. What happens when a person dies with a Sigil? It lies on the twenty-second page.

Upon the death of a Sigiled, like any other creature, their Sigil will be available for others to take and use for their promotion to a more powerful Sigil. But there is a difference between unintelligent beasts and men. Over time, the latent will and desire in an intelligent creature can twist the Sigil if left unchecked. As a result, this twisted Sigil will slowly form into what is called an artifact.

Commonly, and unfortunately, they resemble the limbs of those who lost them while at the same time having disastrous side effects. Fortunately, however, artifacts' powers are unique, obscure, and often more potent than the previous possessor of the Sigil's abilities.

The power of artifacts is why many seek them out and a primary reason for the existence of Outlaws. Many hunt others to see if their corpse creates a tool for them to sell or a weapon for them to use.

One can guess the artifact's power and how far it has strayed from the predecessor's power and intent by what the artifact looks like. Extremities, fingers, hands, toes, and feet, are the weakest artifact form. Next are limbs, arms, and legs. Then there are non-vital organs like the appendix or a single kidney or lung. Next are the vital organs that are not the heart or brain. Finally, the most potent organs to become artifacts and the ones to be most wary of are hearts, brains, and eyes. These have side effects that correspond to the increased power.

Very rarely, however, the predecessor's will is so powerful that it can overtake and possess an item on their body. These are the most powerful artifacts, as they can take on actual weapons or armor. They are also the hardest to find out if they are an artifact or not due to their similarity to crafted items imbued with Sigils. Many would think they are just an exceptionally powerful Colt, Claymore, or another piece of gear. One can only learn whether it is by experiencing the side effects and power of said item with the power of artifacts outclassing similarly ranked crafted gear.

And the rarest incidence after the death of a Sigiled, the nigh impossible, is that their Sigil itself becomes sentient. Deformed and grotesque things are born of these abominations. The only warning when one comes across these is that you must tread very, very lightly. Their minds and personalities from when they were alive are there but twisted beyond recognition. Rumors exist of things more singular, but none are confirmed to exist.

I pull out the Bloody Palm wrapped in my old ripped-up shirt. So this creepy wrinkled hand used to be someone's hand? Damn, that is disturbing. I can't believe that Sigils can work like that. Does that mean that Edmund's Sigil will create an artifact, or is there a chance for his Sigil to take him over?

I feel like I have more questions than answers, as initially, I was just curious as to what may happen if no one takes the Sigil from the deceased. I guess I have my answer now, in an unsettling way.

For a moment, I consider seeing if an artifact was born of Edmund's Sigil. I quickly shake my head, though, and continue rifling through the papers looking for something helpful to the obvious affliction upon me.

After flipping through the pages, I find it on the last page. A segment on the side effects of the overuse of Ether. And this one is tagged by a doctor at the front, which probably explains why there are so many medical terms within it.

Tested, discovered, and written by Dr. J. H. Jewles, Head of Medicine at the Hunter Academy.

One should always be wary of using Ether. It is both our most excellent tool alongside our minds, but it is also a deadly poison. To drink the well of Ether is only a temporary stopgap for a problem. Hunters are taught to find the most efficient use of Ether possible instead of blindingly infusing it into their bodies.

The average human body is unfit to imbibe even tiny amounts of Ether as it will likely just lay within the muscles and tissues after use, causing many future issues. Only through slow, careful, and continuous experience can one's resistance to Ether grow. It also will naturally grow as one's Sigil does but at a much slower rate. Sometimes, this can even cause those who rise rapidly in ranks to die of the Ether output from their own Sigil.

For most, however, the small amounts of Ether that surpass our body's tolerances will slowly be expelled through rest and recuperation. This is simply Ether oversaturation. Common side effects include headaches, nausea, pain in the extremities, and dizziness. Suppose you are experiencing any of these symptoms. In that case, it is recommended you escape from whatever is forcing you to use Ether.

When one experiences too much Ether such that their body can no longer expel it on its own because the natural release of Ether from their own Sigil either equals or outdoes the amount that can be discharged by their body, it is called acute Ether saturation or AES. This is more common in Sigiled than in Unsigiled, as Unsigiled will just die abruptly from Ether being stagnant in their body. This is highly fatal. Nearly 99% of patients suffering from acute Ether saturation die without treatment within one month. Symptoms of AES include pain in the head, pain in the limbs, pain in the mind, severe all-encompassing pain, headaches, migraines, blindness in one or both eyes, deafness, numbness in arms, legs, and eyes, hyperthermia hypothermia that rapidly switch, weakness in muscles and tendons, partial organ failure, total organ failure, multiple organ failure, memory loss, stroke, and death.

Holy shit, that's a lot of symptoms. Am I fucked? Severe all-encompassing pain??? What the hell does that even entail? How is pain all-encompassing? And how can your eyes be numb? What kind of list is that?

I am definitely under AES or whatever it was called. Like half of those symptoms, I can feel even while sitting down. Hyperthermia and hypothermia, especially as they are tied with their corresponding headache and bodily pain, respectively.

And the bit about not just blindingly infusing Ether, hoping it will fix the issue, Edmund never told me that did he? Oh, maybe he did. I can't entirely remember. Wait, was memory loss one of the symptoms? Oh shit, it was. Better read the rest before I die from "partial, total, and multiple organ failure".

There are only two ways to treat AES. The first is to be administered a detoxification concoction by another person with ingredients to expel the Ether in one's body through their pores. All Hunter squads of eight or more are equipped with a detoxification concoction brewed by certified doctors. And those of ranks higher than 3rd Sigil who experience AES must immediately seek medical attention at the nearest forward base or headquarters.

The other way, which is significantly more dangerous but is sometimes required when in the wilds, is to expel the Ether from one's system and acclimate to it. Attempting this method only reduces fatality to 95%; however, despite the best-discovered instructions, few wish to subject themselves to Ether Baptisms for testing. The old custom of finding out who was sensitive to Ether had a high mortality rate and, as such, was discontinued by my predecessor. And the instructions are as follows,

Sit still. Very still. A single movement in your surroundings may break your concentration.

Focus inward on your Sigil. Imagine its shape, look, feel, and name.

Create a tiny, almost nonexistent piece of Ether using your way of forming Ether.

You will feel immense pain at even touching Ether with your mind during this part and all that follows. DO NOT LOSE FOCUS.

Coax the Ether to gently exit the core surrounding your Sigil towards your body.

Pain will erupt.

Repeat steps 1-6 as often as possible until you can move a piece of Ether from your core to your feet, head, fingers, and back again. The typical length for recovery in this way is between 2-6 weeks. The higher your resonance, the more excruciating an experience because of its want to output more Ether into your already damaged body.

There is one silver lining about the likely death of one who performs this type of treatment, also dubbed as Self Immolation. By forcing one's body to acclimate to higher levels of Ether, one's natural affinity to sense Ether and ability to withstand large amounts of foreign and internal Ether will rise drastically. This will not allow one to create larger displays of Ether, but instead, do it for longer and more consistently while at the same time being more durable and perceptive to the use of others' abilities that use Ether.

The long-said phrase stands true for us of the Territories, and us only.

"What doesn't kill you only makes you harder to kill."

I, Dr. J. H. Jewles, ask that any who survive this treatment please come to me for testing in Brightford, Blackreach! With your help, I can help create better treatments to help future AES patients become survivors like you!

After reading only negative things about how likely I was to die from this condition, the last little bit made me smile. I hope one day I can meet this man. He sounds impressive, creating treatments and medicine for future Hunters.

I quickly turn my attention to the actual information despite my interest in Dr. J. H. Jewles. The first three steps in the instructions don't seem very hard, but the fourth and especially the sixth are pretty ominous.

Why is "do not lose focus" written in all capital letters? What does "Pain will erupt" actually mean? I have no idea about the two new questions I created for myself.

And when I'm confused, I just do. So, I sit still as the sun begins to set. I've spent a considerable portion of the day just reading and resting. I always have issues sitting still. My energy and curiosity are too much to not move and do something. Ma used to say Lagertha, the God of Lethargy, would hate me if he ever saw me. But of course, that's if he was still alive.

But sit, I do. This is important to my very own life. I have too many things to do before I let my skill kill me. And I finally figured out why I am under AES. It had to have been Strugglers Gasp. Well, probably that. I doubt it was the other ten or so times I ignorantly went beyond the safe threshold for Ether in a desperate gamble to survive. Definitely that one skill. Yup. Blame it on the executioner's block I was placed on.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. A pretty hard thing to do. Focus when your life isn't on the line. Maybe that's why I don't dislike fighting, just what it feels like after. The feeling of getting punched in the face a hundred times.

I try to clear my thoughts again, but it doesn't work at first. So, I just go into myself mentally and look at where my core is for the first time since the recent trip to the cabin. And I see something new behind the back of my skull.