Adendé's eyes carefully studied Mikey from beneath his mask. Much like Lady Blackjack, Adendé shared her innate ability to peel away the physical layers of a person and view their spiritual presence.

With Mikey, he'd notice that the violet coursing energy through his body had all converged in his right eye. The once volatile energy, from Adendé's point of view, had become dormant.

 

"You're finally awake," Adendé pulled his fist back, the metallic coat over his skin draining, funnelling through every pore, and returning his body to a dark, almond tone.

"Yeah, awake. I guess I am," Mikey replied, his back splashing into the puddle behind him. The pellet rain had calmed to a light shower, the storm clouds gradually clearing above. "I think he'll be gone - for a little while at least."

"You've made a contract with him?" Adendé asked, squatting as he looked more closely at Mikey's right eye. He had them closed, but that didn't inhibit his study.

"I'm not sure what it was, it was different from Lady's… Cassius, he's got so much hate," Mikey replied, exhaling with a catch of his breath. The battering he'd received earlier had begun to weigh on his muscles, prompting a painful series of pulses and aches. "There was no exchange between the two of us, no deal. It's more like I just ate him."

 

The fire around the hut was unmoving, frozen in time, as each ray of crimson light that pierced through changed to a violet hue when it neared their bodies. They’d returned to a warped scape of Cassius’ memories.

Kneeling on opposite sides of the dirt floor, with their foreheads leaning against each other, Mikey and the old spirit, Cassius, silently held their eyes closed. Cassius gripped the back of Mikey's head, embracing him as they kneeled.

"Don't forget," he heard Liam whisper in his ear, sending a jolt of energy that woke him up and prompted him to flinch away from the embrace.

Mikey, back on his feet, slapped Cassius' hand away.

"You're fucking disgusting - how are you enjoying all of that? What the fuck is going through your mind?!" Mikey roared, his hazel eyes glaring at the increasingly agitated spirit.

"Son, please. You will come to understand. We can turn these plains into something truly beautiful - something fair!" the spirit replied, remaining on his pleading knees but with an irremovable grin planted on his face.

"I'm not your son!" he swiped his hands away, disgusted. "Your son is dead! Gone! You've had a shit life - so what?! You think everyone deserves to die because of it?"

"I am trying to make an improvement! But they all need to sacrifice first. I have, they should too - they WILL too," the spirit replied, shaking his head as Mikey stood over him.

"You're… you're weak," Mikey looked down at the broken spirit, taking a step back from him. "You're too lost in your vengeance."

"No! No, I'm the only one that sees clearly! You're all blinded by your freedoms - they need to be taken!" the spirit erupted as it sprung off the floor toward Mikey. However, holding out his palm, Cassius froze in place. The Underworld Token on the back of Mikey’s hand shifted from the toxic violet to its original white.

"I'm here to find myself, but you threaten to take that away," Mikey uttered, his open hand turning more into a claw as his hold on Cassius constricted.

 

The crimson rays began to darken - shadows enveloping every corner of the hunt. Wind, chilling to the touch, brushed over Mikey’s neck and shoulder.

"Consume him," a dark echo reverberated through the air. It was the unknown voice from his many dreams, sparking a more sinister urge within Mikey. "Devour his every being."

 

"You're not needed here, Cassius," Mikey closed his fist, the constriction tearing the spirit's spectral form apart and condensing it into a small orb. Its screams could be heard faintly echoing from the spiritual object as it floated towards his face.

Upon touching his right eye, a blinding pink flash was released and the screams stopped.

Mikey was then pulled from the internal plane.

 

"We'd best find Lazarus and leave. La'Qashur will want your head," Adendé suggested, looking away from his muddied captain and into the wisteria forest. The war cries and screams had gone quiet for some time, leaving an eerie silence.

"My head? Didn't we make a deal for information with him?" Mikey asked, sitting up out of the mud once the rain had slowed.

"That was before you indoctrinated his son and killed half of the Ironheadz tribe. He'll want your head," Adendé replied, beginning his way into the entanglement of roots.

"But that wasn't me, that was Cassius! I even heard him say his name, the war chief called it out!" Mikey pushed himself to his feet. He was in pain, but the fear of facing another fight was more frightening.

“We’ll discuss Jorgansol politics later, but it’s a matter of respect. Now hurry,” Adendé responded with a vault into the forest, prompting Mikey to hasten. However, as he was taking his leave, Mikey noticed a curious shape sticking in the mud: the two halves of Cassius’ staff. Before heading into the forest, he outreached his hands and pulled the halves towards him, the glowing light emitted from his telekinetic hold bringing him and the staff together once more.

 

As the pair of them continued to hike through the undergrowth, the distinct smell of iron drew into Mikey’s nose. His gaze swayed around the roots in search of an origin, before it fell under his feet. Half buried in the mud were the bodies of countless savages, in a mangled mess serving as no more than footing for Mikey to continue.

 

Thud-creak-crash!

 

An impatient uproar could be heard from over the forest - something of magnificent size was forcing its way through the roots.

"The ogre's making his move," Adendé announced, picking up the pace through the forest. Mikey tried to keep up but struggled.

 

Bark bark bark!

 

Eventually, Adendé broke through the edge of a clearing. At one end, Mud stood with Lazarus laying over his back, injured and unconscious, practically dripping with blood. On the other side, laid Ribs, dead and stained with brown and red. Not far from him, Buggro was sprawled out into multiple pieces - chunks of meat and bone spread in a circle marking his grave.

“Wha-” Mikey spoke out, breaking through the roots not long after Adendé. However, simultaneously, a giant mass burst through the roots from behind the corpse of Buggro.

“What’ve we got here? Eh?!” the ogre war chief roared out, his eyes studying the body of his fallen son.

"Take Lazarus and the hound," Adendé whispered back to Mikey, though kept his attention on La'Qashur. "Don't do anything reckless, get back to the ship."

"What're you- you're using yourself as bait?!" Mikey asked, looking at the ogre who'd moved his attention from the body to the pair of them.

"You pulled yourself out of that state and, controlled or not, you hit me hard - real hard," Adendé spoke out, cladding his skin in the metallic armour he had previously, his body slightly sinking into the mud. "Keep it up. You might be worth calling Captain. Now go!"

 

With a deep inhale, preparing himself for the pain, Mikey launched into a sprint for Mud and Lazarus - whistling for the warg's attention.

Prompted by the sprint, the war chief plunged his hand into the mud before him. A skyward eruption of spiked bones burst from the ground in a path towards Mikey. Each bone was jaggedly snapped, on its way to cutting him off and impaling him before reaching the warg.

As the outbreak of bone from the ground approached Mikey, his eyes nervously glanced back and forth between the bones and Lazarus.

"I'm not gonna make it!" he yelled out, the memory of Adendé's orders not to be reckless remained at the forefront of his mind. "Adendé!"

Landing in the mud path of the bone assault, Adendé balled his fists and cocked them back over his head. Pulling them down for a sudden strike, he buried them into the mud before the bones could reach Mikey.

 

Krackoom!

 

A thunderous shockwave burst from his charcoal fists, sending the mud rolling through the forest. The dispersal of the mud revealed an elongated, skeletal hand slithering under the mud towards Mikey - the bone spikes protruding upwards from it.

Bringing his knee up to his chest, when the hand got close enough Adendé slammed his foot down, crushing it beneath his boot. The force of his stomp shattered not only the hand, but all the bones that had protruded up from it - reducing the ogre's attack to dust.

 

Mikey had only just managed to keep his balance from the mud wave, continuing to push through towards Lazarus and the warg. He carelessly splashed his feet on his way, forgetting the fearsome nature of the warg brothers.

Sensing Mikey's approach, Mud began a low growl, backing away from him - when a hand slowly slid up his neck and scratched.

"Calm down, boy…" Lazarus mumbled, barely able to push the words out.

Once arriving, Mikey leapt to the warg and folded over its back like a wet shirt, landing right next to Lazarus.

“You doing alright there Laz?” Mikey jested with the wheezing of his breath, accidentally winding himself in the leap.

“Go boy, come on…” Lazarus uttered with no energy for humour, however, Mud seemed to be waiting for something - his ears twitching nervously.

“What’s your stupid dog waiting for?!” Mikey roared, taking the time to turn around to a more stable position.

 

Aroooo!

 

From the forest behind the trio, a black warg emerged in stride. Zooming past, it howled in summoning, glancing back at Mud briefly. Bat’s eyes were clear of the violet glow that had plagued Ribs’. Mud echoed the howl, before taking off behind the warg following its lead as they returned for the wisteria forest.

Before leaving, Mikey took one last glance at Adendé. Sliding under a heaving swing of the ogre’s staff, he was too preoccupied to return the attention. A surging electrical aura began to emit from the masked man

“Thanks, Adendé,” Mikey finished before they disappeared.

 

As the two wargs entered the forest, Bat swiftly maneuvered through the undergrowth. Despite his injuries, the resilience of the warg seemed to help to retain its wit through the wisteria. Corpses, mangled and messed, littered the grounds - their armour and weapons amalgamated into the wisteria roots.

"Hang in there, Laz," Mikey said over his shoulder as he clung to the warg's fur.

"I'm alright kid… jus…" Lazarus' tried to reply, though his voice swiftly faded into unconsciousness once more.

The wargs soon emerged from the forest line and out towards the colossal bone barrier that had been erected earlier. Lines of savage tribesmen blocked the way, all of them in chaotic disarray. Most were carrying bodies, others hauling armour and weapons. Those that were fit to fight streamed out towards the forest, funneling through the deforestation that La'Qashur had left on his path to Buggro.

A few of the warriors directed suspicious looks to the wargs and their riders, however, most were too disoriented by the chaos to pursue them. This allowed a smooth entrance through the tunnel, as Bat bowled over any wandering tribesmen in their path - Mud following swiftly on his trail.

 

Emerging into the camp, the Ironheadz tribe was almost empty. The whole lot of them seemed to be either past the wall, dead or alive, allowing the warg’s an empty path to the water. On their way there, Mikey spotted the Blackjack in the distance - but there was an ocean of water between them.

“Fuck - fuck! We can’t cross on the rowboat, by then he’ll…” Mikey cringed in frustration, his blank mind struggling to find an escape where they’d all make it. However, the wargs didn’t slow down, Bat showing the intent to swim across the length of the water to the Blackjack.

“I can, I can…” Mikey’s eyes lit up in realisation. Taking a deep breath, he rolled off the side of the warg. Slamming into the ground and forced into a controlled tumble, he was left in a winded daze.

When he finally came to, Bat and Mud were about to reach the bank - preparing to leap forth into the water.

“Work, work, work. You can do it,” Mikey wheezed, sitting up as he pulled the broken staff from his belt. Holding each piece like a baton, he stabbed them into the soil before him - plunging them deep under the ground.

“Go! Grow!” Mikey commanded as a snake-den of wisteria roots burst from the ground beneath the stave halves, tearing through the soil and making their way for the bank. As the wargs looked back behind them, each of them leapt opposite ways from the roots' path.

Continuing in a straight line, the roots launched out of the bank's face and formed a weaving bridge over the water - off towards the Blackjack at sea.

The wargs kept the pace, pouncing onto the wisteria bridge and sprinting nearly as fast as the roots flew over the water.

"This doesn't count as reckless, right?!" Mikey asked on an adrenaline rush, too high to feel the invasive pain working around his right eye.

 

"Tha pink skin! 'Ere he is!" Mikey heard over his shoulder as a small assault party of savages stampeded towards him. They ushered war cries and clattered their weapons, all of them thirsting for a piece of Mikey.

Looking back to the edge of the wisteria, he noticed the Blackjack drop its sails and turn course, soon moving alongside the roots.

Mikey burst up from the ground, shredding his hands as he tried to pull the stave halves up with him, but they were stuck firmly into the ground. With no time to turn back, he pressed on.

 

"Fuuuuuck! Fuck!" Mikey gasped for air, already exhausted and beaten from the events earlier. Though he approached the Blackjack, the savages would sooner reach him before he was safe.

"Mikey!" he heard from a voice up ahead. It was Gisla's. Leaning over the railing, she was hysterically waving for his attention. "Hurry, Mikey! Hurry!"

"You don't think I know that?!" he snapped, his legs getting heavier and becoming too difficult to safely step on each hastily woven root on the bridge.

"Fire the cannons! Fire!" Mikey ordered, repeatedly looking back in fear of the fast-approaching savages.

"Wha-" Gisla went to reply, intent on confirming whether he was serious, but the spirit of the ship didn't hesitate for a second.

 

Blam! Boom! Blam! Boom! Boom! Blam!

 

The cannonballs tore into the wisteria roots, splintering the solid bridge that held Mikey's freedom. Along with the savages, he plunged helplessly into the water before the Blackjack managed to reach him.

Though he initially squirmed to swim to the surface, he soon found his arms and legs became dead weight. With his strength fading, Mikey began to sink.

'Ah… they're too heavy.'