Beyond the Horizon, a Scry for Help.

If this Skill didn’t originate from Theora herself, then this left essentially two options. Either something, or someone, was calling out to her, asking to be saved — or this was some kind of trap.

This was especially suspicious because she had received that Skill right at the time when she’d wanted to give up on the quest. This was giving her a reason to care. Hinting that the quest would actually somehow be of help would easily coax her into compliance.

If this was a trick, it was working. Theora couldn’t well refuse now.

On the other hand, she still had two hundred years left on the timer, and receiving some weird unsigned Cuckoo-Skill wasn’t going to make her hurry up, even if it caused her to consider doing it at all. And thus, she filed it all away for future Theora to deal with.

The Theora of the present needed to protect Isobel from whatever lurked in the dark.

And so, they continued walking ahead.

And dark, it was. A world shaded in the absence of light, rendered impenetrable to the eye beyond a small sphere of daylight. The gravel of the main path crunched beneath Theora’s boots and Iso’s rocky feet, small hints of a midday meadow grazed Theora’s field of view at their sides every now and then.

Theora wondered what it would be like to run off onto the grass and lie down for a few hours, to look up at pitch black as the ground beneath her would still beam in lush delight, to close her eyes and maybe sleep for a while. To rest her eyes, never to be bothered by a rising sun. Protected by the unlight, safe from sight.

What would it be like if rain fell? Would she see the little drops fall around her in that little bubble of vision?

It sounded like the cosiest thing in the world. Theora really wanted to have a part of that darkness all to herself, to carry with her, or to maybe put it in a place and call it home.

It was those Darkness Daffodils that turned the place like this, wasn’t it?

“So, did they tell you how to find those flowers?” Theora asked. They sounded like amazing plants, but unfortunately, every single specimen they were to find today would be needed by the guards, so she wouldn’t get to keep any.

“Yeah, well, since it’s dark, we are in the right space,” Iso murmured. “It’s their pollen that creates this illusion. Which is what attracts the prowlers, because it helps them hunt. Like symbiosis. I think we can’t really do much. Just have to wait until I hit one with [Identify]. So, lots of time to talk!”

“I’m a bit surprised your voice hasn’t attracted any of them yet,” Theora whispered.

“Oh!” Iso yelped out. “Oops, right! I need to be quiet.” She walked for a few steps, trying her best not to speak, but soon started humming a soft melody absent-mindedly.

Theora listened to her bright singing voice for a while. It made her really nostalgic. Nostalgic, and a little embarrassed.

In all the time Theora and Dema had travelled together, there had only been a single instance of singing between the two of them. The day after Dema had gotten injured fighting the Devil of Truth. Back then, she’d been so demanding and courageous in her requests. Since Theora had wanted her to feel better soon, she’d complied with about every single one of them. Nowadays, Dema was much more reluctant to just ask for things, except when it came to hugs. And Theora had grown more reluctant to comply.

So, that one night decades ago, Dema asked Theora to sing, so Theora had sung.

She wasn’t very good at it. Not that Dema minded.

Perhaps the two of them would go back to being close that way again, at some point. Dema would ask for a song, and Theora would be ready to fulfil the request.

Hearing Isobel hum in that bright voice of hers, Theora couldn’t help but wonder what it would sound like if Dema did the same, in her smokey mid-tones, ringing like the most beautiful bowed instrument.

Maybe one day, Theora and Dema could sing together.

And… just perhaps, Bell and Iso would join in. Did Bell sing? Her voice sounded fit for it, despite its unusual wet and squelching quality. Iso could clack her body in rhythm, and—

Theora felt the blood rise to her head again, and broke off the thought. She was getting way too ahead of herself.

She didn’t think she could muster the strength to sing without Dema explicitly making such a request. Otherwise, it would be embarrassing, and, more importantly, open her up to shenanigans and teasing.

But, maybe she could get Dema to ask for it.

Yes, perhaps Theora could try running a little scheme of her own for once too. Beat Dema at her own game. As the idea materialised in her head, she almost felt dizzy from how much of a wicked person she could be.

It was time to put the plan in motion.

“Isobel, do you like singing?” she asked.

“Of course!” she cheered. “Bell sometimes sings me lullabies at night.”

That hit Theora from left-field. “She does?”

“Yep! God, she’s such a cutie.”

Theora cleared her throat, trying to gather her thoughts back up. Suddenly, they all lay in front of her, scattered like chestnuts from a torn bag.

“Why’d you ask?” Isobel went on. “Want me to sing for you?”

No, that… that wasn’t going according to plan at all. Theora’s idea was foiled within five seconds. Apparently, there was a lot more to scheming than she had imagined. A new kind of appreciation towards Dema bloomed within her chest, as if she didn’t already have decidedly enough of those.

“Maybe not now,” Theora murmured. “Since we need to be quiet. But, on our way back?”

“Aw!” Iso sighed. “Sure! But, in this darkness here, a little song to lighten the mood would be pretty nice. Or we’ll just end up brooding!”

Theora felt called out. “I’m sure I can go for a while without brooding, even in darkness,” she said, mostly because she knew she desperately needed the practice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Iso said, waving off. “You know, just now I was lost in thoughts about System stuff, since we talked about the Cuckoo-Skill earlier.”

“Have you made any progress yet?”

Iso clicked a nod. “Mostly been spending my time going through those error dumps you sent me,” she said. “Trying to commit as much of it to memory as possible. Say, you wouldn’t be able to get more of those, would you? They are very old, and comparing it to newer dumps would help determine whether the System is actively being maintained in some way. How’d you get them?”

More of those.

Oh, god. Theora really didn’t want to get more of those. Though, technically, it was possible.

“I received them by breaking part of the System,” Theora said. “I used [Obliterate] on a few of its subcomponents, and it leaked out.”

Iso beheld Theora with her wide-open, curious eyes. She didn’t say much for a while, and then settled on saying, “I suppose you’re reluctant to do that again?”

“I don’t want to cause irreparable damage,” Theora confirmed.

“Yeah, that makes sense, I guess,” she murmured. “Bummer,” she added in the exact same sad cadence Dema usually said the word. “Not that you don’t want to cause harm, to be clear,” she added quickly, and twirled her antennae. “Just a bummer that that’s how the Skill operates. Truly nefarious. I’m really glad it’s you who has it.”

“What?” Theora blurted out. How was that a good thing?

“Oh!” Iso yelped. “No, I—” She raised her arms. “Didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just, the Skill is terrifying, isn’t it? Skills are typically limited. They have cooldowns, or charges, or cost mana or special resources, or require sacrifice in some way. [Obliterate] has none of that. If a person were to acquire that Skill who’s not… Well. It’s scary. You should have seen Dema when I introduced her to all the party and Interface stuff, she almost lost it when she saw the Skill.”

Theora frowned. “That doesn’t sound like her. What happened?”

Iso shrugged. “She’s pretty old, right? And she has [Appraise]. Really high Level, doesn’t really ever fail on anyone. So, she panicked when she saw the Skill.”

“I don’t understand,” Theora said. “Because of the description?”

“Not that. Because of its Level.”

Theora pulled up her sheet, and stared at it.

[Obliterate] Lv. MAX

“Level maxed out,” Iso said. “Dema hasn’t seen that before, ever. As in, ever. Her entire, very long life. She wasn’t aware that Skills could max out at all. She was like, ‘Damn, how many times did little rabbit use it?’” Iso did a very good job at imitating Dema. “Like. I think she was wondering how any of the world was left.”

Theora swallowed.

She’d used the Skill a lot, and there was no denying that. However, the reason why it was maxed out was a little more sinister than that.

“I don’t like the Skill,” Theora then went on to say.

“Why, obviously you don’t.”

“It swallowed up all my other Skills. Sure, they too were meant to cause damage in some way, but… They could be used for good. [Obliterate] is…” She sighed. “When I first received it, I was very excited, and I tried it out on many things.”

Her stomach clenched at the thought, and she tried her best to keep her food down. Oh, why was she even saying this, out loud? And yet, she couldn’t stop herself. “I had a place I called my ‘training grounds’, and now it can hardly be called a ‘place’ anymore.” Theora’s eyes welled up. “Eventually, I wanted to get rid of it.”

“Rid of what?”

“Rid of [Obliterate].”

Iso blinked. “Wait. Wait. You didn’t…”

Theora shrugged, and looked at the ground defeated. “I thought it might work. I thought if I obliterated [Obliterate], it would be gone, and I’d be free.”

She bit on her tongue, trying to calm herself.

“Instead, I blew up and it maxed out.”