Falcon Scott was the strongest Siege Capital in Antarctica. Situated almost exactly at the South Pole, the sprawling metropolis had everything humanity needed to remain self-sufficient and more.
However, that was only the case before the Chain of Nightmares had started. Now that there were hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people entering the city, their seemingly endless resources suddenly became very finite.
Still, they could likely last a year or so on their own with no real issues. And since people were being migrated out to the East every day it was not the worst state of affairs.
Still, the mood was dire.
Ensconced in a looming twilight, the truth of impending and ceaseless danger could clearly be felt.
Gates were not constrained in where they could appear. Which meant that numerous ones spawned right in the middle of the city. Still, since several Masters were stationed here and the Vassal Saint of Valor was also nearby, there was almost certainly no threat that could wipe out more than a small chunk of the city.
Still, combined with the influx of people, damage to Falcon Scott was drastically more impactful than it would be otherwise. Losing gardens, food stocks, or even storage could spell serious trouble for the people.
That being said, measures were of course being taken by the Government. If a Gate looked dire to face in the city, or if it was in a place that could not effectively be evacuated, they would send a cohort of Awakened to it, and have them challenge the Nightmare Seed the Gate had sprouted from.
It was something Gehrman didn't think about often, but in truth each and every Nightmare Seed had the potential to blossom into a Gate of the same Rank. Now that a Rank 3 Seed was growing inside his Soul, he wondered what would happen if it turned into Gate, would the beasts of Yharnam be released onto this world as well?
Though they would certainly not be as big of a calamity as they were for Yharnam (since those who fought them would not have to rely on The Old Blood – the very source of beasthood), it still wouldn't be pretty.
The reason this thought came to his mind was because 6 such Awakened had done exactly as the Government requested and had entered the 2nd Nightmare in order to stop the gate from forming further.
Naturally, these were Caster and the Ex-Mercinaries. Sound asleep and placed in comfortable pods. They were now taking their shot at becoming Masters.
"It's unnerving to see him do this," a grumpy voice muttered.
Gehrman turned to see Sunny glowering at the sleeping form of Caster.
"...You haven't been around him as much lately. To me, this seems to make perfect sense." Gehrman straightened his back, hearing a satisfying crack he let out a sigh. "He's still a piece of shit, but he's grown. Just like you have."
Sunny's brow furrowed more.
"Really? Because I don't think I've grown at all. Even after the Chained Isles, my 2nd Nightmare, all the hell in between…I'm still...I'm missing something."
This caught Gehrman off guard. He hadn't expected Sunny to turn introspective all of a sudden. He also didn't know where such thoughts came from.
"I don't follow," Gehrman cocked his head. "As a Hunter, you are about as complete as one could get. You have all the necessary skills, all that's left now is to train them to perfection."
Sunny did not talk for a few seconds, then turned to look at Caster again, contemplative.
"What do you think it is to have conviction?" he asked.
Now Gehrman was even more lost. He tried to think back to all the things he had heard and seen from Sunny since coming back.
The young man had grown at an incredible rate, becoming a Devil despite not sticking to the same rigorous Gate hunting as Gehrman. He had also mastered a lost Sorcery: Weaving. All of this pointed to a desire to grow stronger.
But as natural as that felt to Gehrman, it did not seem like something that was inherent to Sunny. Back on the Forgotten Shore, he had expressed the desire to live a comfy life, becoming a shop keeper, and generally languishing around.
But his actions did not reflect that at all. He trained and hunted like a man possessed.
"To me, conviction is having a goal and accomplishing it no matter what. Though I imagine some may use different words, I think the idea is fairly simple. Why are you asking?"
Sunny took a few seconds to respond once more, but then it appeared it was getting painful for him not to respond.
"I…don't have it. No big dreams or grand aspirations. Not like Neph, not like you. And I think that as long as that's true, I'll never get any stronger than…"
He trailed off, but Gehrman was sure of something then. Even though Sunny had compared himself to him, his main concern was with Neph.
He wanted to be stronger than her.
Pieces started to click into place. This wasn't just a recent thing, that desire to be stronger than Changing Star was what drove him ever since that event at the end of the Forgotten Shore.
Nephis forced him to leave her there. But it wasn't with force, she used some kind of Arcane ability. But she never once used anything like that during any of the fights in the Forgotten Shore.
Then his thoughts shifted, and he tried to reframe the situation.
Sunny started obsessing over strength after the Forgotten Shore. It could be that he simply wanted to never be forced out like that again, but when Neph came back he wasn't really hostile with her. It's complicated. But the fact that he fled the Valor ball after having a conversation with her and is now on the literal opposite side of the planet…it's like he's afraid of her.
Or rather, afraid she would do something to him specifically. Probably whatever it was that forced him out of the Forgotten Shore in the first place.
…Cassie. He was also mad at Cassie. He doesn't trust her, and has grown wary of her. That's also a change since the Forgotten Shore.
But if Nephis has this power to control him, why would Cassie be involved in this fear?
…Unless it isn't Nephis's power, it's Sunny's weakness. If that's the case, then Cassie was likely the one to find out about it. Given her powers as a seer it wouldn't be difficult. Cassie told Nephis about this weakness and she used it against Sunny at the end of the Forgotten Shore.
Gehrman's brow furrowed as he came to an unsettling conclusion.
Nephis "forced" him to leave. But the way she explained it, there was no violence involved. In fact, it sounded more like she had simply ordered him to leave, and he was forced to. So is that it? Nephis has the power to control Sunny?
This would explain a lot. The odd behavior of those three along with Sunny's odd action of coming to Antarctica.
He wanted, maybe even needed strength in order to at least remain Neph's equal, and thus less likely to fall under his control.
Gehrman shivered, and Sunny gave him a foreboding look.
They had been quiet for a while, and though Sunny said nothing, he appeared to have guessed that Gehrman now had an inkling of his situation.
"I don't think big dreams are necessary for conviction," Gehrman said slowly. "In terms of drive and motivation, you are not lesser than anyone else. All that's left is gaining raw power and improving your skills."
Sunny's jaw slackened, eased by the fact Gehrman did not bring up whatever it was he clearly wanted to keep hidden.
Then he turned away. "My cohort will be moving out in an hour. I just wanted to stop by and say good luck. This place is gonna be rough, so don't go turning into a raving lunatic."
Gehrman chuckled.
"No promises."
…
Saint Cor had been wrong. Master's Skif and Sean were not the leaders of the convoy to South America.
Though the Government Saint hadn't been misinformed, his information was simply outdated. For whatever reason, there was now an additional individual in the center meeting room of the Flag Ship of the South America convoy.
Instead, Gehrman was met with an intimidating dark-skinned man with sharp white hair.
"Saint Bloodwave," Gehrman reached out his hand, and the man shook it. His face was emotionless, and it was hard to get a read on him.
"Ascended Gehrman," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I understand you are the one who developed those new odd weapons we have been getting an influx of."
The way he said it left nothing for Gehrman to interpret. He wasn't sure if Bloodwave was pleased or unhappy with them, but Gehrman wasn't one to give someone else credit. Those Trick Weapons were actually his own design, the first truly unique Trick Weapons of this world. Since beasts did not exist in the waters, he had to come up with something new for the House of Night.
Much of it incorporated the new physics he had learned since coming to this world, utilizing water pressure, momentum, and weight in every design to make it more fitting for water. Weapons that would be too heavy or unwieldy on land could be tuned to be incredibly balanced underwater.
Some designs incorporated small holes that allowed water to travel through them, and lock mechanisms to halt the flowing or speed it up.
Even Gehrman wasn't exactly sure how best it was to use such things, but after working with ambassadors from the House of Night they appeared exceedingly pleased with the results.
"They are still prototypes. For your Trick Weapons, much finer work is needed, and only my best engineers can be trusted to reliably produce them I'm afraid."
Gehrman offered him a banal smile, trying to keep up as neutral a stance as possible. This was a war against Nightmare Creatures, after all. And though Night had yet to pick a side, it wouldn't suddenly promise an increase in product or manpower for their House (which is what he presumed Bloodwave was wanting to ask).
But instead, the Saint simply nodded and changed subjects.
"You will be using our convoy as a base of operations and rest, but largely will be operating individually. We can only spare so many resources to aid you in any Gates you may come across, so take caution."
Gehrman's smile warmed at his words.
"Your consideration is most appreciated, but I'm afraid it won't be necessary. I'll stop by to drop off the Gate Guardian corpses and Soul Shards I collect to the ship with my Engineers. But besides that I won't be taking any rest. So just focus on keeping your people, as well as mine, safe."
Bloodwave gave him a dubious look while the other two Nightwalkers appeared disgruntled at Gehrman's words.
It was only natural they would find Gehrman's attitude toward his "better" distasteful. No matter who you were or who you worked for, a Master always was to show deference to a Saint.
But Gehrman was the exception.
Perhaps it was Bloodwave keen instincts, honed over decades of battle, that allowed him to take note of that very thing.
The white-haired Saint took Gehrman's hand in his and gave a firm shake.
"May the Storm bless you, and may your wrath burn all in your path."
…
The Engineers of the New Workshop had a quarter of one of the colossal transport ships to themselves. This was not due to some misguided self importance, but simply for the fact they needed the room.
24 hours into their voyage, they had four corpses in their storage.
Two Fallen Devils and two Fallen Tyrants.
The Red Judge had dropped them off unceremoniously. Afterwards, he would personally process the mystical material, skinning the creatures, carving their bones, and maintaining muscle fibers. All of this to create the necessary tools that would allow the Engineers to make Trick Weapons of the Nightmares that even bullets could not pierce.
Many of the smaller tools had been brought with them from the Workshop Proper, but the big things had to be reconstructed inside their new base of operations.
Fortunately, their boss had both the Aspect and the knowledge to finish this task (which should have taken weeks) in a mere 8 hours of work.
Everytime the Engineers tried to congratulate him for this he would only complain and brush them off coldly. In his words:
"These will need to be modified, this garbage won't be able to work with Corrupted Corpses, so I need some Category 3 Gates to start spawning."
Such terrifying words sent chills down everyone's spines. But the Engineers had grown somewhat accustomed to their boss's inhuman personality and perspective.
It was the other ships that contained the Government army and the House of Night guides that were truly unnerved.
Whispers of the Red Judge were quick to spread as the clamour of his flights and returns with corpses in tow were hard to miss.
Rumours of his exploits, madness, and strength spread like wildfire.
…And at the same time, another myth was starting to take hold in Central Antarctica: that of Lord Mongrel…and the Devil.