Zoemie snarled as she found herself into yet another dream. She looked behind herself as two women were preparing to duke it out, sitting across each other on a sea of ruins, wrecked stone and crushed bricks. She vaguely recognized the road at being the one from the capital she fled from, but the once-busy street was deserted, and the pungent, metallic smell of blood filled the air.

One was human-sized, and Zoemie recognized her, a girl from her class with brown hair. I think I sucker punched that one after she was racketing some kid for money. She remembered her name being Caelicia ? Something like that. The only notable difference about her now was the baseball bat across her shoulders, and a general feeling of power and menace coming off her like an aura. Zoemie wasn't sure she could've taken her on, even with her revival ability.

The other was much taller, a strange humanoid the size of a kaiju. Her skin, somewhat grey-purple, glowed with an unpleasant shine, pitch black eyes covered by a partial mask and hair, yet glowing, staring down her foe. A black and dark green garment covered her body from the waist down, her neck, ankles and wrists adorned by floating serrated gears, floating above the ground.

Her hair was thick, it reminded Zoemie of those Japanese ghost women Neth told her about once. Wasn't it onryo or something ? That said, it was much shorter, reaching to the woman's shoulders and covering her eyes. It had grey, red and purple streaks among its primary color of jet-black.

Strange grey tablets spiralled across her limbs, carved with words in a language Zoemie did not read. They glowed with a ethereal purple-blue shine, and while Zoemie couldn't read the tablets, she could feel their aura. The curse. The grudges that were written across kilometers of material, so powerful that if those curses were real, Zoemie couldn't try to control or deflect them despite her own power and mastery of the domain.

Are curse and grudges related ? It made intuitive sense to Zoemie, but she didn't want to speculate. Plus, it didn't seem like the best situation to think about this kind of information. "Hrmph.", Zoemie's classmate snorted as she swung the bat across her shoulder, moving into a combat stance and snapping Zoemie out of her reverie. "Guess it's only me left, huh ? I never was much of a hero, but... alright." She took a breath, absentmindedly throwing up the bat a bit and recovering it.

"Get over here, you piece of shit !", she screamed, charging, to which the horror screamed in answer, more gears coming up and floating behind her, the inside part gaining a purple color, before the dream greyed out. But unlike before, there wasn't a voice, so Zoemie started looking around a bit more.

As she looked towards the sky, she found something, like a clock formed of melting clouds. At this precise moment Zoemie was overwhelmed with a strange, unpleasant feeling, like she was staring at something she really shouldn't be looking at. The voice started speaking just as the feeling faded.

"we were at caroll street station

when the clock ticked over and c y c l e d"

And Zoemie realized she could do something she couldn't do before. Speak. Okay you fucker, Zoemie thought. She had a lot of questions, but the first one came out of her mouth before she even finished thinking about it. "Who the fuck are you and what is the point of these dreams ?"

"our identity does not matter

a pointless thing to answer

 

the way is d a r k

sidepaths crumble all around

 

the key and the gate

shape of a h e l m e t

 

we were once fools

 

we know better"

Zoemie snarled internally. She sucked at interpretation, and it seemed like a terrible decision to do that while... whatever that was was actually talking to her. The dream might end at any time, so Zoemie needed to get as much information as quickly as she could. "...Can't you just speak straight ? I suck at cryptic shit like this !", she asked instead, explaining her reasons.

"we hold onto with utmost care

break easily in our colossal hands"

Zoemie snarled. Well, shit. It didn't surprise her exactly, but the problem was a bit different. This doesn't help me. "But, like, what is this all about ?" There was a short lull, and then the voice talked again, with an confused, almost lamenting echo that wasn't here before. Zoemie found it even more unsettling than usual.

"it's not a wonderful tale

 

yesterday is history

but tomorrow a mystery

 

the weave guides us

light after the dark

 

...

 

i don't know."

Zoemie grumbled. She didn't know how she felt about that. At least it was being honest ? Better than nothing. "Alright then.". She took a deep breath, her limbs shaking like jelly as she started to ask another very important thing she wanted to know about. "What do you want from me ?"

There was silence for a short bit.

"stay the course the path

 

as the sun scorches down

keep dreaming playing hiding"

---

Xajymzia gritted her teeth and focused her eyes on her sleeping charge. Wards : Pointless. Expected result. It had been worth an attempt, but Xajymzia had changed her approach, and decided to focus hard on knowing her enemy instead. Massive amounts of info were being funneled, crunched through and analyzed by the magical setup on the blanket.

Too much data. She lacked the power to handle the absurd amount as of yet, but it was actively welcome. She could store it and wait to analyze it later, and she decided to do that, instead returning to the slates she was looking at. There was no point attempting to break Zoemie away from her dream, she tried it before, so instead Xajymzia would use her time in another, equally productive fashion.

As far as she could tell, these were enchanted slates lootedfrom the adventurers – Zoemie had missed or overlooked these.They kept one informed of someone else's current state of "alive" or "dead". It was, for Xajymzia, pretty useless on its face, but the enchantment interestedher. She might be able to turn these something interesting or useful.

At least, she would key one to Zoemie. Speaking of whom, her charge was waking up. Xajymzia used a spell to set up her breakfast, which was a cantrip by now, and turned to the spreadsheet to her left. Formal analysis of the metals conjured by Zoemie for her experiments had given Xajymzia a pretty good idea on how to proceed.

Although her plans would likely involve asking Zoemie to make use of her fusion ability more, so Xajymzia was thinking about some method to use said fusion ability without requiring her to actively do it, preferably at range. For the rest, it was mostly about filling the two-dimensional table the maid was looking at. One axis was the base metal, the other the specific type of mana used in the fusion.

That said, she did want to deal with Zoemie first, make sure she was alright. Oh, and mention she took the scanning device. While it was currently too slow to be any use in heated situations, if she could speed the scanning up, increase its range and make it automatically activate on intruders, it could prove a crucial advantage in future battles.

The maid shook her head and walked up to Zoemie, who was done with her post-breakfast routine, and stared at Xajymzia with big, exhausted eyes. It was the maid who talked first. "You look unwell.", she said, to which Zoemie nodded tiredly.

"Fucking dreams, fucking nightmares, and fucking nonsensical bullshit.", was the otherworlder's answer, before she took in a breath and focused herself. "The thing actually talked to me for once, but all it said was mostly cryptic nonsense, but like, some of it, it felt like it was trying to talk to me in a language I understood, if that makes sense ?"

Xajymzia had gently guided her charge and herself to the living area, and sat Zoemie on the couch while she rambled. "But I suck at interpretation something fierce." Zoemie shook her head wildly before she calmed down, stretching her jaw in a massive yawn. "I should probs go take a nap or somethin'.", she said, to which Xajymzia nodded in assent.

"I would like to mention beforehand that I took the scanning device.", Xajymzia mentioned. "It might come in handy for later, but for now I need to see what I can do with it.". Zoemie nodded tiredly, and teleported back to her room.

---

Zoemie woke up from her nap feeling almost refreshed, and, after drinking some water, checked the time. "Sixteen thirty. Fucking bullshit." She sighed, and considered what to do. "I'll probably go on the computer." Still haven't opened it yet. Which was unusual, as Zoemie was usually on her computer much earlier than that.

The mess with the nightmares had slowed her down, but Zoemie remained mostly confused at it all. Still, she had gotten the most important point about it correct. Whatever these fuckers want from me start with me being alive. She didn't know for sure how she felt about it, but it was what it was. She still didn't get the precise point of the nightmares, and a part of her frankly didn't want to bother thinking about it. She just wanted the nightmares to stop.

But for now, all Zoemie had to do was game game game, and she intended to do just that. She had taken off her top for sleeping, as she once read this involved the body cooling down and was very much starting to feel the incoming summer, and didn't bother putting it back on for playing. Computers were known to heat up, after all, so she simply didn't see any point to it.

Even disregarding the fact that the only other being in the dungeon was Xajymzia, who seemed to have as far as Zoemie could tell zero libido or interest in people's bodies, Zoemie simply didn't see herself as attractive or pretty. Zoemie never understood why people where so retentive about summer bodies either, so she mostly just didn't really care.

She and Xajymzia might have to discuss it at some point anyway, just in case but Zoemie saw no point in doing it right now. She shook her head, and refocused on her gaming. She had strategies and compositions to try out, it seemed like a much better use of her time.

Zoemie often was satisfied with her understanding of a game when she had a basic strategy for any situation one could find themselves in within the game, whether it meant handling a boss, dealing with randoms swiftly and / or general progression throughout the game. Zoemie's favorite type of fights where those that required mixing things up, using tools and techs not used in any other fights.

Whether it was due to extremely high enemy evade, dual or even wolfpack boss fights, to the more unusual like killing only being possible by MP drain or using a boss' self-buffing against it, the most memorable fights for Zoemie where those that allowed room to play around while still having a gimmick that had to be engaged with and couldn't simply be ignored.

Although, cheese wasn't necessarily off the board against certain bosses. "Just remove the stance to mostly make this fight a joke. Between the fear amp and 90% damage boosts to chasers from that other skill, this should be nice and easy." Might need to pull out the save editor. Zoemie smiled as she booted up the emulator.

Zoemie often found herself wondering how to make a game better, as well. Finishing a game completely often taught you a lot about its qualities, but also its flaws, janky parts and questionable design decisions. Zoemie wasn't the best at hacking, but she had enough pattern recognition ability to do a few modifications here and there, although nothing more complex than fiddling around with numbers and sometimes sprites.

Even that's sufficient to do interesting things, though, she considered. Zoemie was not that big into hacking and modding overall – she mostly used these as tools to allow 100% in games that otherwise made it impossible, including not just from normal gameplay, but also glitches. The only games in which she played a lot of hacked content, however, had been Mokepons games.

"Then again, what game wouldn't be improved by frame skipping or speedhacks ?", Zoemie asked herself, pretty confident that the answer was "not a single one.". Zoemie didn't like very slow games. She got bored and just slid off. Very hard puzzles tended to cause a similar reaction, particularly when they're mandatory.

She shook her head, and started playing and optimizing the fight. This is the life. Much better than dealing with weird, annoying dreams and creepy mechanical voices. "Alright, this is going... yep, basically got it. Nice."

---

Far to the northeast, in one of many large plateaux, deep in a quiet, unknown place, closerto a sealed bunker than a treasure chamber, there was stirring. A long-gone fire that ran a forge, and there, there was movement. Metal chafed and stirred with unpleasant noise, as a glove landed on a kneepad, and an armor lying against the wall came into full motion.

Model 15. It had been a smart idea, the figure thought, to bring a relatively weaker armor for this mission. Not that it had helped, in the end. It looked around, and found what is was looking for. The slabs didn't react anymore, confirming the armor's suspicions with a dour silence.

They shook their head, a deep, hollow rattling echoing through the dusty forge. Loss was an unpleasant feeling, one the armor was all too familiar with. The other two had been people they had grown to care about despite their flaws, but now they were gone. They clenched a fist, unable to take deep breaths to calm like a human would.

They lingered here for a bit, staying against the wall. If an intruder was to enter they wouldn't even realize there was a sentient being in the forge, for there was no movement. The armor was lost in memories for a while still, thinking about various happier memories, before stirring again after an unspecified amount of time.

They looked around some more, and found what they were looking for. The weapon was heavy, but poorly made and balanced. Model 8. Not my best. The figure considered what to do. I need a better weapon, must check in another stash. They had accumulated plenty of these throughout the two-digit decades of their existence

They had nothing but time, after all, and while their goal had changed, it was still in a sense the same it had been for most of their existence. Revenge. They knew for sure the other two were gone, and with that loss came a dour confirmation of something the armor expected all these long, long decades of existence. It is time to return to the warpath.

It would have to come prepared, however. The line of defences were very heavy. Dark magic ? They would have to find some darkness-blocking compounds. Assuming anyone still made these. Also, improved wall breaker. That it didn't work made no sense, but the figure might be able to tinker something up to break in anyway. It would be one of a kind, however.

Their existence had been naught but tinkering for a very long time. They had gotten very skilled at it. But the armor decided to linger a bit first, remembering the mission that led to the current situation. They couldn't say they expected this outcome, but... Some critical miscalculations had been made. It shan't happen twice.

There were strategic considerations made, as well. Wardens were nigh-immortal, after all. And so am I. Trying to rush ahead was likely to end poorly. It was best to take it slow, to come fully prepared and if not bring alongside, at least gather allies who shared their objective and values, even if for different reasons. Just because you hate someone doesn't mean you can't work with them for yout benefit, after all.

The armor decided to focus on their primary goal for now. Find the other stashes and recover everything I can, starting by armor model 23 and as many weapons as possible. Their best armor model so far, and by a long shot, combining Model 19's metal rings over the joints, Model 22's heavy defences and some metalsmithing tricks to make the metal lighter and increase agility. The stash was in a forest somewhere to the west, it remembered.

---

"Well, fuck.", Rickard snarled as he considered the situation. This was... pretty bad, he could get in trouble... if he got caught that is. "I am a hero, dammit ! I deserve that shit for free !", he whispered to himself, entitlement clouding his judgment. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rage. Really got carried away here. He considered his next course of action. Gonna have to be smart about this.

Still, Rickard wasn't anxious. I'm a hero of the country. Gonna get away with it either way. He looked at the worthless cunt, his breathing steadying. It's all your fucking fault, you greedy bitch. It was best if she disappeared. Nobody's gonna care anyway. He might have to get a bit tricky about it, but nothing excessive.

He never got into trouble for anything back on Earth. No reason for it to change !