Die. Respawn. Repeat.

It takes a while, but we settle into a pattern.

It turns out that the Regrets in the second stage only know one skill—Death Fog—and as difficult as it is for me to counter, He-Who-Guards and his Breath of Life keeps us perfectly safe while the skill is running. It helps that the Regrets don't seem to be able to move while they're channeling the skill; the fight would be a lot more complicated if they tried to attack us at the same time.

Though given the way they're escalating, they might not be far off from trying exactly that. I grimace a little at the thought. I can fight at range, but not nearly as effectively as I should be able to.

For now, I take point. While Death Fog isn't in effect, I rush forward, tanking hits and punching back; even when they escalate to Rank A, they fold easily with the combined impact of Firmament Control and Phaseslip. When they hit Rank S, I fold in a little power from Amplified Gauntlet and the Knight, and they break apart beneath my fists.

All the while, I gather credits.

[You have defeated a Lasting Regret (Rank S)! +30 Strength credits. +16 Durability credits. +20 Reflex credits. +31 Speed credits. +16 Firmament credits.]

Different names now, I notice. And those credits are more than enough now to trigger another skill collection if I really need it, although I save it for now. I suspect if I tried to collect a skill now it'd offer me something akin to Death Fog, and as powerful as that skill is, it doesn't really fit in with the rest of my kit.

Something for range would be nice, though. Something that lets me deal hits from afar. Maybe if I practice a few long-distance shots, do something with Firmament Control to mimic the effect of a fireball or something similar—

"They're casting!" Guard calls out, and I immediately retreat back into the bubble of safety provided by his Breath of Life.

"They are getting stronger," Novi observes nervously. The silence of the bubble and the immutable darkness of Death Fog around us is probably getting to her. "You are hurt."

I blink. "What? No, I'm not," I say—but she reaches out, and her fingers graze over a long, jagged cut running from my elbow to my shoulder. I hiss, jerking back, and she bows her head in apology.

"You must be more careful," she says. "I suspect injuries inflicted by these wisps are harder to notice."

I guess I can't argue with that. Now that she isn't touching it, the pain's once more faded into a dull throb, barely noticeable under the rush of adrenaline. Without the protection of Premonition, I might have been hit far more and not even noticed; even with it this escaped my attention.

He-Who-Guards reaches out, his attention focused on the wound. "Allow me," he says quietly.

Some of the Life Firmament around us flows into the cut, and we watch as flesh stitches itself together. Once his attention is focused on it, it happens in seconds, though the bubble we're in is noticeably smaller. Right—now that I think about it, Breath of Life is probably a healing skill. It's just that most of its power is focused on defending us from Death Fog.

"That's going to be useful," I say. "Thanks, Guard."

He blinks at me, optic shuttering shut for a moment. For some reason, I feel like he took what I just said very seriously. "You are welcome."

And just like that, the fight continues. The Regrets aren't escalating quite as quickly anymore—the next wave is the same set of Rank S monsters, marginally more powerful but not quite outside the realm of what I can handle yet. Weaker than the Seedmother by far, thankfully, despite the rank; part of it is probably the skill they're able to cast.

We get farther into the tunnel. It begins to narrow, and I sense glimpses of Firmament around us—the bustling of First Sky right above. I frown.

"Aren't we supposed to be sealed off from the city?" I ask, turning my gaze to Novi.

"We are," she says. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I can sense it," I say. "The Firmament above us."

Novi frowns herself. "That should not be possible," she says slowly. "The tunnels are fully shielded."

"Maybe this area is damaged?" I ask. I look up, but it's hard to see in the dimness of the tunnel—barely any lights are working now. Novi shakes her head. �

"I will send in a report," she says, sounding troubled. "The shielding should not fail at any point. Such a failure could spell disaster for the city."

"Disaster?" I raise an eyebrow. "What kind of experiments are there in this Shadowed Laboratory?"

"We work with many artifacts, some excavated and others presented by the gods," Novi answers. "They are not built to cause harm, but on occasion..."

"Right. I get the picture," I say, though I'm well aware I don't sound entirely convinced. More and more I'm beginning to question exactly what Novi means by these gods—though this is perhaps not the best time to question her.

Especially since the waves are starting to change.

There are fewer and fewer Regrets each time, and while they're individually stronger, they aren't strong enough to make up for the loss in numbers. Soon, each wave is coming in sets of five, then four, then three...

Firmament stops dripping from the ceiling. I glance at the Interface, a thought occuring to me.

These waves are almost like a countdown.

[Charge the Seed: 99/100]

Exactly like a countdown.

I come to a stop, suddenly wary. There's something in the tunnel ahead. Something so powerful it's setting my skills ablaze. Premonition is screaming a warning with more intensity than I've ever felt.

Direction and intensity. That's all the skill is supposed to tell me. The worst it's ever been is with the asteroid from Isthanok, and even then it felt like standing in front of an oncoming train.

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This is...

It feels like I'm standing in front of something that could end me in an instant. In front of death. In front of extinction. Premonition screams at me with the clearest warning it's ever given me.

In front of you lies the end of all things.

Novi whimpers. I hear the clunk of metal on concrete, and I turn just enough to see that Guard has fallen to a knee—his Firmament is flickering wildly, and the Breath of Life he's trying to hold up is wicking away nearly as fast as he can conjure it.

What the hell is this?

I'm still standing, but only barely. Whatever this is, it feels like my entire body is caught in the grasp of a river. I have to lock every muscle to stay in place, and even then, it burns. It burns like I'm standing next to a miniature sun, the force of it transformed into hammers that try to force me back.

All this, and I can't even see what we're fighting yet. It's hiding in the darkness, too far away to see. This much of an escalation doesn't feel right, even for the Interface.

It feels like something's gone very, very wrong.

"Abstraction." The Knight within me is suddenly alert, hissing with anger. I feel it reaching out to me, and I accept the help without hesitation; I feel the Knight's strength flood into my limbs. The pain of the transformation this time is nothing in comparison to what I'm facing.

"You know what this is?" I ask quietly.

"It is an Abstraction." The Knight's response is a low growl. "It is an abomination."

"I might need more of an explanation than that if we're going to fight it," I mutter. The presence in front of me increases, and I grit my teeth as I'm forced to take a step back in turn. Not voluntarily. It just feels like... the universe bends, and suddenly I'm one step back from where I'm supposed to be.

"We cannot fight it." The Knight is so certain about this that it makes my heart drop—it's never backed down from a challenge before. "It is a concept made real. A hole in the universe. You cannot defeat it any more than you can defeat the rising of the sun or the coming of the tide."

And yet something about the way it says that...

"You want to try anyway?" I ask. I feel the Knight pause for a second, and then I get the sharp impression of a grin, wild and ferocious.

"You," it says, "are a good host."

I stare down the tunnel. Whatever's down there is taking its sweet time in coming to meet us, and if it's going to give us that time, then I'm going to make use of it. I glance behind me.

Novi is shaking. She's curled in on herself, her eyes wide and blank; if I can barely handle this, then I'm not surprised that a civilian can't think straight. He-Who-Guards is doing his best to hold it together, but even he can't quite hide the way his optic flickers in fear. In spite of this, he's doing what he can to reassure Novi and calm her down.

I don't want to let them down.

"Alright," I say. I feel the Knight's attention on me—it's waiting for a plan. "Tell me everything you know about these Abstractions."

Ahkelios watched as Novi's children played.

They were good children, he thought. Young as they were—though he had no idea how young they actually were, considering he had no idea how scirix ages worked in general—they were kind to one another. The older one would play any game the younger one asked him to, even when the games were a little silly.

Sometimes the games weren't silly. Sometimes they would engage in a deeply philosophical conversation for all of five minutes and give Ahkelios a severe form of whiplash. He didn't know if that was normal for children or if it was just these two in particular; maybe they were older than he thought.

Neither of them seemed bothered by Ahkelios or Zhir. Ahkelios thought he caught the older of the two listening in on them every so often, but they didn't react to anything Zhir said, so he figured they probably weren't paying that much attention.

"You don't miss home?" Zhir asked.

"Of course I do," Ahkelios hissed. He just needed to delay a little longer, he told himself. He didn't know what was going on, but he could tell Ethan was about to get into something big. "I don't miss it so much that I'd betray my closest friend."

"Closest?" Zhir raised an eyebrow. "Are we including friends from back home?"

"Yes," Ahkelios responded immediately. He didn't even need to think about it.

"Even Rhiitara?" Zhir asked, and Ahkelios froze.

He hadn't remembered the name until now. It confirmed that Zhir had memories he didn't. But Rhii—

He closed his eyes. Remembered the moment he'd failed a Ritual objective. Remembered the way reality had just torn open. He caught a glimpse of a half-dozen different worlds, then, a half-dozen different Trials. The blowback from his failure...

It burned right through them all. Including Rhii.

"That isn't a fair question," Ahkelios growled out.

"I'd say it's perfectly fair," Zhir countered. "I want you to give up your life. You want me to give up mine. Are we really so different?"

"I could leave you alone," Ahkelios said. "I don't have to take your Remnant."

Zhir snorted. "And leave me to rot in the Empty City," he said. "One way or another, only one of us is leaving. I'm being polite—" A trickle of deadly Firmament sharpened to a point flowed into his arm. "But I don't have to be."

Ahkelios froze. He could fight him. But to do it here? With the children?

"Besides," Zhir said. The power vanished, and Ahkelios forced himself to relax again, though he remained on his guard. "Your Ethan..."

Zhir glanced away, frowning. "Now that's unusual," he muttered. "Oh, now he's really gonna die. Unless you let me help him."

"What are you talking about?" Ahkelios asked. Dread rose in his throat—he was connected enough with Zhir that he could tell he wasn't lying.

"Abstractions are terrible enemies," Zhir said casually. "Not something you can fight without some very specific knowledge. But, you know, I already told you I have to help Ethan get to at least the fourth layer, so you know I'll help him this much. What do you say?"

Ahkelios tried to find the lie. He couldn't. He opened his mouth to speak—

A small, clear voice interrupted them.

"Our household doesn't take kindly to threats," the older child said. Juri. There was a steady look on his face, and he pointed what looked like a wooden sword at Zhir—except, Ahkelios realized, it wasn't a wooden sword at all. That thing was full to bursting with Firmament.

Zhir didn't have Ethan's senses, but Ahkelios did. Or rather, he could channel them to a limited extent. He looked around. The two of them had been playing random board games, fiddling with devices.

Every single one of them was full of intense, blazing Firmament.

Yarun, the younger child, pressed a switch—and thick ropes suddenly shot out from each of the 'games', wrapping around Zhir in a tight, steady lock.

Ahkelios stared. These were children? They'd been listening. They'd planned a trap. He supposed it wasn't all that surprising that Novi would keep some defensive tools in her home, but this?

He glanced at the older of the two children again. Juri, his name was. He didn't look away from Zhir for even a moment, and the tip of his sword—which was really more of a Firmament blaster—blazed bright.

"Who are you," Juri said. "And what did you do with Uncle Zhir?"

"And tell us about these Abstraction things!" Yarun added, tugging on his older brother's elbow. Juri considered this for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. And tell us about those."

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