The silence in the camp broke all at once.
"He—he's a monster!" one of Rook's lackeys yelled, his voice cracking with terror. Suddenly, the world that had seemed frozen in time began to move again. A few men scrambled toward the fallen Rook, but others, fueled by a mix of fear and desperate bravado, dared to step closer to Guy.
Guy was bleeding heavily. His shirt was in shreds, and his skin was a map of jagged, raw cuts. He stood rooted to the spot, his head bowed, eyes fixed on the blood-soaked dirt at his feet. He looked like a man on the verge of collapse.
"He's out of it!" one of the men shouted, seizing the moment. He charged, his blade held high in a panicked arc. "Die, you bastard!"
The man screamed as he swung, the steel whistling toward Guy's exposed neck. But the moment the blade reached Guy's skin, there was no spray of blood. There was only the high-pitched, bone-jarring crack of failing metal.
The lackey stared at the useless, jagged hilt in his hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at the edge of his broken blade, then at Guy's neck; not a single scratch. Not even a bruise.
"What… what are you?" the man whispered, his knees buckling.
Guy finally looked up. His eyes weren't filled with the rage of a warrio, They were hollow, dark, and tired. He didn't say a word. He just shifted the weight of his iron bar.
That was enough.
"Demon! He's a demon!" the lackey screamed, stumbling backward. The rest of the crew didn't wait to see more. They grabbed the unconscious, broken body of Rook and scrambled into the darkness of the camp, leaving their pride and their gear in the dirt. They ran not just from Guy's strength, but from the wrongness of it.
Guy stood alone by the dying embers of the fire. The adrenaline was fading, and the "Weight" that had protected his neck began to lift, replaced by the agonizing sting of his actual wounds. He slumped back onto the log, his breath hitching as he clutched his side.
[1]
The crimson number pulsed in the air, casting a sickly red glow over his blood-stained hands.
"They are gone, Guy," the voice whispered, sounding closer than before, almost as if she were leaning over his shoulder. "Their Gods have turned their eyes away in shame. They don't like to watch their 'Stars' break."
Guy closed his eyes, his head leaning back. "Who are you?"
"A prisoner. Just like you," she replied "But while you are a prisoner of the eyes of gods, I am a prisoner of the void. I have no voice. I have no hands. I have nothing… unless you give it to me."
Guy looked up at the crimson [1]. "You did this? The blade?"
"I lent you my weight. It is all I can offer from behind these bars. For now." The voice sharpened, a hint of hunger creeping in. "But if you fight… if you make them look at you until they can't look away… I can do so much more. I can give you the strength to crush the heavens that treat you like a dog."
Guy's instincts screamed at him not to trust the presence, but the fight against Rook had laid the truth bare, his raw strength was nothing against those favored by the Heavens. Even a small-fry like Rook a bottom-feeder who barely mattered to the great, had nearly torn him apart with a single borrowed blessing. If he truly wanted to escape the "Eyes" forever, this entity was his only hope.
"I wish you no harm, Guy," the voice purred, a melodic chill that seemed to wrap around his heart. "You are my only hope, just as I am yours. I have waited for so long... so very long... for someone like you to finally look back."
"Perhaps I can help you uncover your past," the voice whispered, sounding almost maternal yet cold. "That is why you are hiding in this filth, is it not?"
The words hit Guy like a physical blow. His interest piqued, he felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in years: hope mixed with a sharp, defensive edge.
"How do you know about that?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the empty air.
"When we connected, I saw fragments," she replied, her voice drifting around him like smoke. "I saw flashes of a life before the mines. I saw your mother and your father... I saw their eyes, filled with sadness."
"Alright," Guy said, the words feeling like a heavy stone in his throat. "I accept your offer. What do you suggest?"
"I am glad you agree," the Goddess replied, her voice thinning as if she were retreating back into the cold shadows of his mind. "But I used a great deal of power to stay that blade, and I am weak. You must heal your body if we are to move forward."
Guy looked toward the darkness where his friend had vanished. "Hobs can help me with that."