Rod opened his Soul Eye. Ink-dark hues bled out of the material world; motes of light pricked the air. Reslin and the other two turned into bright, misty silhouettes, shot through with nerve-like filaments—a blazing tangle of spirit lines.
Right ahead, a black wraith was evaporating—must've been the thing Reslin smashed a heartbeat ago. Farther out, more of the same: shadow-hounds drifting through the thin haze. Now and then one sidled toward a housefront, only to flinch off the ward-lantern like a dog shocked by a fence.
"More up ahead!" Rod called.
"Good!" Reslin barked. Shield in one hand, blade in the other, he flicked his wrist—clack—and the folded steel snapped open. Spirit light flared around him, rippling in layered afterimages. He stomped once and charged straight into the pack.
The sudden glare tore what little mist there was to shreds. The wraith-hounds scattered—then their eyes went blood-red. Jaws unhinged, grotesque fangs punching down from muzzles far too small to hold them. In a blink they weren't odd black dogs anymore—they were nightmares.
Maws lunged from every side. Reslin slashed—three gaping mouths fell apart in neat halves—then shouldered another aside so hard the thing did an involuntary split. But four more jaws clamped onto his back from behind.
"Watch it!"
Spikes erupted from Reslin's back with a shrip, skewering the four hounds like hedgehogs on a spit. He pivoted, deliberately turning his armored back toward the thickest cluster.
Shnk shnk shnk!A rain of steel quills burst out, pinning swathes of shadow-hounds to the stones.
The dead ones hit the ground and crumbled—tiny black motes steamed off the remains and bled into the air. The spikes on Reslin's back thinned, went translucent, and winked out.
Aiger and Calamon still hadn't moved up.
Calamon cupped his hands and heckled, "Push harder! You swing that thing or just pose with it?"
"Dona ask you that too?" Reslin snapped back, splitting another hound in two—only for more to surge in, swallowing him in a churn of shadow.
"You two aren't… going to help?" Rod asked, unsure.
Aiger snorted. "These are gray-tier mutts. He can handle it."
Calamon huffed, cheeks pink. "He's the best. Let him prove it."
Rod's eyes lit. Perfect chance. He slid his spirit-gun from his coat. "Mind if I pick them off from here?"
Aiger eyed the weapon. "No need. True-silver rounds aren't cheap."
Rod knew. He still owed for that fifty-round loan. But compared to a tombstone, bullets were a bargain.
"I need the practice. Better to be steady now than freeze later."
Aiger shrugged. "Your money."
Rod settled his aim. These days the motions were smooth: a one-second pour of spirit and a one-second sight picture, the pressure gauge peaking just as the muzzle steadied.
The report cracked the street. The true-silver slug punched through one hound and detonated on the far side—silver light blossomed, shredding four others nearby.
Shards flew; the wreckage hit stone and started to steam. Maybe because it was "explosive" damage, the bodies dissolved faster—black dust billowed up, thinning into the dark like smoke.
This time Rod saw them clearly: four hair-thin black threads, spun from dust, lancing through the void and straight into his heart. Four faint lines of text flickered at the edge of his vision—Dust-Like Soul—so pale they were easy to miss.
He glanced at Aiger and Calamon. Neither had noticed a thing.
"Clean shot," Aiger said, impressed."Hits harder than Reslin's garbage 'counter-bulwark' anyway," Calamon added.
They really couldn't see it. Rod eased a breath out and fired again. Another crack, another core-shot—five hounds gone.
The pack wavered, a few turning toward Rod—until Reslin vaulted in and yo-yoed their hate back with a storm of spikes, chops, and shield-bashes.
So that's "aggro control." Rod finally felt what "roles" meant. He settled into a rhythm, each round threading into the densest knot of shadows. Thin black filaments kept stitching into his chest; Dust-Like Soul blinked again and again at the corner of his sight.
Even Aiger and Calamon couldn't just spectate anymore. Aiger's white-smoke bolts lanced through hounds, pinning them in place; Calamon's long whip cracked from the back line, cutting down strays.
The pack never once broke for the rear. Reslin held them like they were on a chain. In short order, the street went still.
Reslin jogged back and traded high fives. "A tidy little win."
He looked at Rod and grinned. "You fired ten rounds. That's seventy silver. How about treating us to a soul-therapy session at the Healing Order?"
"Seventy's enough?" Rod blurted.
"Huh? Isn't it?"
Rod hesitated. Based on his… experience, tack a zero on that and it still might not cover just his tab. He swallowed the thought.
Reslin didn't press. He unclipped his ward-lantern, lifted it high. Rod saw the spirit lines in his forearms brighten—power flowing into the lamp.
The lantern flared—clean, solid light washing the entire block. Reslin stutter-flashed it ten times, then hung it back on his belt.
"Standard signal. Tells folks the fight's over and they can breathe."
Only then did Rod notice faces at the windows. Silhouettes lingered until the last flash, then thinned away. Blessings, prayers, and soft thanks drifted from both sides of the street.
"Move out."
They set off again, chatter easy as if nothing had happened.
Only Rod's heartbeat was not. He'd banked a small mountain of souls just then, but he couldn't duck into the dream now. If the blue star went out—
Screw it. If I'm quick enough, I can do this.
He tucked both hands in his sleeves, thumbs crossing to form the lightning sign. Sight blurred; his spirit lifted free.
One heartbeat—he was back.
Gray, dim fog flowed in a boundless hush. The solitary obelisk speared the center; the black altar stood at its rear right.
Above the altar, more than sixty dust-motes of fire drifted.
Rod didn't waste a glance. He sprinted to the obelisk, pressed his palm to the stone. Night sky spilled open—two stars flared into view, one red, one blue.
His eyes flicked over them.
The dark-red star burned as steadily as ever:
Devourer of DarknessState: Constant FlameStar-power: Soul ErosionInfusion: UnavailableQuantifiable: Abyssal Night • Eternal Fog • Blood of Old RossTier: Eternal FireStrength: 30Note: (omitted)
The blue star, by contrast, was so dim it was barely different from the phantom specks around it:
Wintry AzureState: On the Verge of ExtinguishingStar-power: Revival of SpiritInfusion: Soulless ShadesQuantifiable: UnavailableTier: Dimming FlameStrength: 1Note:We must still love with our lives, even when the world repays us with spite.
No time to brood. Rod fixed on the blue star. With a thought, he hurled all sixty-odd sparks from the altar into the sky; a flock of tiny meteors arced into the azure point.
It brightened, flames quickening like a campfire catching. On the Verge of Extinguishing ticked up to Weak Flame. Strength crept from 1 to 2, inching higher.
The other lines didn't change.
Rod frowned. Needs more souls, then.
Devourer was clearly unusual—one feeding and it locked into Constant Flame, barred from further infusions, and even sprouted those "Quantifiable" tags. What did "Quantifiable" mean? Why were the two so different—innately, or because of what they'd eaten?
No time. He keyed the sign again. The world pitched—then snapped back.
The street swam into focus. The three were staring at him with a look he didn't love.
"You good?" Aiger asked.
Rod dropped his hands and forced a sheepish grin. "Sorry—too tired. Nodded off on my feet."
A soft glow pulsed from Calamon's palm; an unseen ripple brushed Rod's face. His mind cleared like someone had opened a window.
They relaxed, slung arms around his neck, and hauled him along.
"No sleeping on the job," Reslin said."Maybe that mutt was 'routine' to us," Aiger added, "but for a family, that's their worst nightmare.""We're the city's watch tonight," Calamon said. "Iron Cross Ward: 3,400 households, 21,000 lives. On our shoulders."
Aiger waggled his eyebrows. "Now then—something spicier. The Royal City's Top Ten Beauties: the eldest Miss of House Mipor and that spring dream she had—what's your take?"