Volkar

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Wyatt Graves

My eyes burst open at the sound of gunfire and crackling flames. I sit up, feeling ten times better than when I fell asleep. And as I look at my arm quickly, I realize quite a bit of my wounds have faded. The large bruises, cuts, and scrapes are still there, but more scars now exist, overlapped on top of each other in the grayish skin that is a part of my arm from the Bloody Palm.

I then feel a surge of something in the back of my mind that I shut down with a moment of focus before letting it grow. I don't know what it is, but it felt wrong. It felt violent. Did the Bloody Palm reach deeper into me during that chaos? Maybe. I need to be more careful about that. I'll have to ask Johnny what to do about that. I've felt quite... wrong since I fell asleep.

This quick inspection of my own body and mind only lasts a short second as I hear yelling from outside with muffled voices. Wait, outside? Where am I? I scan my surroundings, and it appears to be a small armory. Dull and chipped weapons, alongside some more well-maintained ones, adorn the walls and tables all around me like an orchestra of death, welcoming me back to wakefulness.

Did someone just dump me on the floor to sleep in here with no one to guard me? No, I see Dakota at the doorway, so focused that he hasn't even noticed my awakening.

But he seems a bit larger… Did he? No way! In a single night's sleep!? I move my Ether to activate Chain Eyes and notice just how smooth it all feels. It usually takes less than a second to put the Ether into my eyes, but this time it is so smooth it's almost instant. The shock of it rides alongside the view of Dakota in my eyes.

Clad in yellow chains, just as I am, sits a sizeable orange fox, only that now the tip of his tail is dyed with a stripe of gray.

I call out to him, just wanting his comfort after what happened to me.

"Dakota!"

The fox twists so fast that for a split second, I worry he will pounce on me, but the expression on his face turns from furrowed brow focus to giddy excitement. His tail wags as the fox, now the size of a large dog like a bloodhound, jumps on me. I cough out a gasp of air as he lands on me and shoves his face into mine.

"I'm fine! I'm fine! Hahaha, glad to see you too, buddy. What the hell happened while I was gone?"

I notice the difference in his intelligence instantly. I know foxes are clever, but damn, is Dakota smart. He turns and growls toward the closed stone door of this armory. I understand that he's telling me to go out and see for myself. So, I push Dakota off of me a bit as I start to stand up. The muffled sounds are pretty severe and make it seem like a battle is occurring outside.

As I stand, I notice the lack of something, not pain or weariness, no those will take much longer to fade, but instead a lack of hunger. Not entirely, but the constant gnawing that I've grown used to is now but a subtle pleading. I look down at my stomach through my ripped-up shirt as I pull my tattered jacket to the side. My stomach is less starved. I must have been fed while I was unconscious. And a lot at that. Can you be fed enough in one night to reverse starvation? Maybe with Ether? I'm sure that there are a whole bunch of wacky abilities. I mean, Silas can literally wish for something with his Absolution as long as he has enough money.

I check my weapons first before I pull open the stone door that looks to be a sliding door. Intervention? Check. Daggers? Check. Spare revolver? Check. I also do one last thing before I open that door. I test out what I learned in the never-ending dream.

I spend a short moment of focus creating Web. An intricate and dense interweaving web of Ether forms on my palm as I look at it with awe. The time to make it is a tenth outside of the dream, from a full minute to six seconds. I move my hand around as I see it is still challenging to close the fist with it on my palm, but I leave it. I want to see what it can do if I'm about to enter a fight, and six seconds is a long time.

So, I reach toward the handle to slide the door to the left, but as I do so, the repulsion force of the Web on my hand pushes the door without even letting me touch it as I follow through with it. The interaction is foreign but not unwelcome. The weirder it is, the better. No one will expect something like this.

My eyes then go from the door to what lies outside as the sounds overwhelm me. Screams, gunshots, and blades clashing alongside innumerable and unguessable Ether skills slam into my ears. The surprise almost makes me reach to my ears to close off the sound, but in front of me, only a dozen feet or so, is Johnny with his Colt shooting non-stop at beings in front of him.

Things that I can only assume to be demons, as their appearances are very different from anything I've ever seen. Four creatures with green chains, light blue skin that fades to white on their arms, giant horns like a buck that gnarl around in mysterious agony down to cover their faces like masks, and long machetes press onto the Gunfighter.

In the corner of my eye, I see a rope dart stabbing into a demon's face before promptly exploding. It must be Otto. I don't look further for any more detail as I see Johnny get pushed back by the demons. They are fast and durable, as his bullets don't seem to put them down very quickly. I am surprised by his rate of fire, however, as I would assume he would have to slow down when blinded.

I hesitate in fighting for a moment, remembering Johnny's words, but I'm suddenly overcome with a need to fight. For some reason, I just want to fight. To blow off some steam. A need that I rationalize with a look at my body. I'm quite healed up. Surely I can handle a fight. And they need some help, right?

I run toward him to help, drawing Intervention with a bit of difficulty from Web fighting the closed hand. Another thing is unexpected as the flowing Ether through me is so smooth and practiced that I move with the grace of Strugglers Defiance before I even expected to. My foot slams into the ground as I burst forward with speed, and I have to quickly raise the shotgun to blast one of the demons away.

It turns to me as I point the Intervention at it, and I see it bend down a bit before charging at me with odd shifting movements, completely silent. I find its actions odd, but I just pull the trigger with the gun facing it. Nothing but Hura has survived the blaze of Intervention to the face.

And as I hold back nothing, unloading all six as the demon continues to get closer despite the first few stunning it, the last one puts it down with a tornado of fire. I see it spasm oddly on the ground with complete silence as another peels away from Johnny toward me. I briefly smile at my hand as I realize Web reduced the kick from the shotgun, making it easy to shoot one-handed without any risk of injury. Then, I turn my attention to the approaching demon.

It gets low to the ground and holds its machete with one hand as it runs at me on three limbs. I glance at Intervention as I realize that I can't reload it in time, and I disregard my spare revolver. This demon is unlikely to die from a meager pistol.

So, latch the shotgun onto my hip and go to grab my dagger, but I pause. I wanted to try out Web, right? Is now not a perfect time? No, it's not you, idiot. Demons are all over; can't you hear them? Grab your damn knife!

A short internal consideration occurs before I grab my serpentine dagger and swipe it at the demon that is now very close. The demon leans back and dodges the swing, but I press forward as Dakota darts in and takes advantage of the demon's movement.

A chunk of skin is ripped away from the demon's heel and ankle by the fox as the skin on the demon starts to grow black and festered like the flesh of a long-dead corpse. My mind instantly realizes what Sigil Dakota took. Of course, it's Sexton. What else would be more prominent in the Underworld? My only surprise is that the fox resonated with it.

It's not completely out of nowhere, though. He did have his parents die just in front of him when he was a kit. Maybe that attuned him to the Sigil about death? Who knows. I'm not against it, though, and instead of thinking, I follow up on his attack.

The demon stumbles a bit, and I tackle him, removing the range advantage it has with his machete and bringing him to the ground. From there, I stab him quickly again and again with my dagger as Dakota mauls his arm wielding the machete. This demon doesn't just up and die, though; I can see the bony antlered face of its twist further with its gnarled bone as it punches me in my left side with its free hand.

I cough and sputter as it knocks the air out of my lungs and certainly breaks a rib or two with its strength, but I keep stabbing. It needs to just die! The demon punches me twice more in this same way, again causing internal cracks and breaks, but I just keep shanking it like an Outlaw in a back alley.

The demon quickly realizes how pointless punching me is and reaches up, breaking off an antler from its head. Then, it spins it around before stabbing it toward my eye.

The threat awakens me from my sudden bloodlust, and I fling my hand up to catch the sharp antler purely out of reflex. But as I notice it coming at my palm with Web, I let go of the dagger in my hand and open my palm to catch the antler.

While I was in the dream, constantly practicing my Ether, I did plenty of experiments with the skill. And while they were in the dream, I figured they would be fairly accurate as the dream world that was created was realistic, from the grass to the pain I felt. One time, I was able to hold myself up just using the repulsion from the intricate Ether wove in my palm, and the little bit of push that my Sigil gave to make the skill have its own flavor and not just be a weak construction of Ether. The dream wasn't reality, but it was very life-like. I figure the strength may be similar.

So I have a bit of confidence to slow down and reduce the force of this demon's stab, but my eyes go wide as the demon's arm rapidly slows and just barely pierces the skin on my palm with its incredible strength. I can see the demon's arm shake with effort as the muscles on its blue-white gradient arm clench with the force of a bear.

I feel very little of this force, however, as Web, no, that's a ridiculous name for something like this, as Ironbound binds this demon's pointed antler from going straight through my hand and into me.

After this short moment of surprise finishes, I twist my palm and push his antler to the side with the repulsion of Ironbound as I notice the Ether begin to fray on my hand. I realize that there must be a limit to how much force this weave of Ether can create, and I take whatever might be left by slamming my palm straight into the demon's antler-covered face.

I hear loud cracks like a dozen bones breaking after the first strike. Shrapnel of bones goes everywhere as I hear a slight wheeze come from the nose of the demon. But I don't stop at this as a wave of satisfaction flows through me, making me want to hit it again in this gruesome way. I strike it again, and then finally third time in the face before it stops resisting. Then again and again until my hand starts to hurt. I only stop as the satisfaction stops and the smile comes off my face. The only thing that is disappointing about its death is that Ironbound broke after that second hit. The limit is quite short, it would seem.

I wipe off my hand on my pants before standing up and looking over at Johnny while retrieving my dagger. He's standing over the remaining demons, looking at me with a bit of worry in his eyes. I can only raise an eyebrow at him as more fighting goes around us. He notices my lack of understanding and briefly explains before calmly firing a bullet over my shoulder.

"Volkar, tough, silent demons with preternatural senses. Everything within fifty feet they can sense. They use machetes created from the antlers on their heads as weapons. We've been fighting for almost a week now without you. Hope you're doing better. Oh, behind you."

I twist around reflexively to fight whatever is behind me and miss the part before that, but the bullet from Johnny seems to be supercharged or something as it pierces straight through the antler mask of the Volkar, dropping the demon in a single shot as smoke comes from Downpour. I do, however, see Otto and Blake fighting two Volkars, with Silas a bit away from them dealing with two of his own.

Silas seems to be in a bit more danger, but I don't know the man very well. That and Undead have extra lives. So, instead of helping him first, I sprint toward Otto and Blake while trying to weave Ironbound on my hand again, but it is far too difficult to do so while moving. I toss away that thought as I take my dagger and jump toward the Volkar closest to me.

The demon reacts quickly, and it twists around with a slash of its bone machete toward me as if it knew I was already coming. And it likely did. I take this in stride and jump backward away from the blade as a trio of bullets slams into its head, creating a shower of bone. The Volkar steps back, stunned, as Blake steps behind it and wraps her arm around its neck.

A spirit emerges from her as well and goes straight into the eyes, ears, and nose of the Volkar, which makes the demon spasm as it struggles to remove the ghost from it. But it can't get out as it is hurt from the shots to the face, and I help her finish the job by taking its machete from its hand during its panicked struggle. I then stab the machete into the panicked and struggling Volkar. It feels... great to do so. A rush of happiness to the brain. Maybe a bit too much. No. These are demons. It's no big deal to enjoy killing them.

The demon starts to liquefy as I do so, the skin, flesh, and bone starting to turn to liquid. It rapidly dies under our attacks, with Dakota also helping with its diseased bite as the other also falls by Johnny helping Otto with some extra firepower. He's the only one with unlimited ammo, so he has quite the advantage here. I'd much rather have a powerful Colt with unlimited ammo than a Claymore. Though on the one hand, this machete's ability is quite strong. It doesn't have a Sigil within it under my Chain Eyes, but it does glow with a dim green light.

Perhaps, the Ether in the bones that create the machete persists after the death of the Volkar? I doubt it lasts that long, though, so I quickly collect the other Volkar's machete as well. And by the time I grab the second, Silas kills his Volkar and limps over to us. He seems to be missing a few of his glittering jewelry. I guess he had to use some of it to fight. The one dead over where he was fighting has a crack that runs along its face, the perfect size for a coin.

The fight here seems to end as we all gather around; although far away, I still hear yells, screams, and the occasional explosion or a powerful enough demonstration of Ether to reach my ears. Breaths slowly stabilize as Otto curses at me with a tinge of laughter and scorn mixed together.

"He tells you to rest, and you sleep for a week?! What kind of nonsense is that!? You know that we've been stuck here fighting for a week?!"

I look at him, surprised as the information reaches me. A week!? How!? How was I asleep for that long?! I know that Ewaki did something to me, but a whole fucking week! Wait, maybe it's not that bad. I guess it is better than eternity, though, so I shouldn't complain too much. It also makes sense why I feel so much better. However, a whole week of rest only served to recover a portion of my wounds.

I'm not looking forward to the break needed to get fully rested up. I do try to explain myself to the group, however, as they start to look at me oddly. Even Johnny mentions how ridiculous it was.

"I tried to wake you up dozens of times. Every time we had to fight, I'd try, but you never woke up. Only small pieces of Ether moved here or there on your hands, but we couldn't figure out what they were. Figured to just let you sleep. A week is an unnatural time, but I wasn't sure if, y'know, it was a part of your family."

I shake my head as I put my arms up to defend myself.

"I wasn't asleep the whole time; well, I was, but not in the way you think. Ewaki, the Angel that Aniwye, the Ogre, wanted to kill, made it into my mind when I was in the mist. I was able to stave it off by not sleeping, but I passed out in front of that door, and Aniwye entered my mind to wake me up from Ewaki's meddling. From there, I stayed awake without knowing the threat. Then, when I went to sleep, Ewaki was there, waiting."

Silas talks up at this point, asking a question and interrupting my story. He seems unwilling to believe the events that occurred.

"How'd you survive if an Angel came after you? I can't imagine you surviving any Chief after your life, let alone an Angelic one."

I wave my hand at him.

"Hold on, will you? Aniwye never left my mind; she put a persona or something within it in case Ewaki decided to want to kill me. Which it did; it wanted to have me join its eternal slumber or whatever. From there, the two Angels fought and defeated each other's personas in my mind. Aniwye grafted a memory of her own to fight in so that I was left uninjured. Then, I was stuck in the dream until I could manage to unconsciously use a skill powerful enough to wake me up."

Everyone, except for Johnny, seems even more suspicious and unbelieving of my story now. He only asks me a single question as the other three batter me with multiple confused ones.

"How did she know who you were, Wyatt?"

His question is straight to the point and stabs the main worry. To him, only he, Virgil, Primrose, Heath, and I know about who I am or even of my existence. Well, besides my father, of course. The other people who know are all dead. Oh, and Alexos too, but that man will soon be dead and unlikely to snitch, as I'm sure he feels the same about wanting to kill me.

I answer him with as much as I can say. I am still unconfident in any more than this. An uncomfortable feeling rises in my chest as I begin to speak, but I clamp down on it with Ironheart, and it dissipates like the need to sneeze.

"She played a role in raising me. I don't know exactly, but she manipulated my memories while I was a child and left me with a persona of her eventually, who I thought was my mother."

His face goes slack-jawed for a short moment before recovering. The others are stunned, silent by my answer, however, while Johnny asks a familiar yet unknown question. Only his is a bit longer.

"Why? What purpose does that have? What about your true mother?"