April 15, 2021.

Dust spent the rest of the morning mulling over the problem.

Should he stay closeby to keep watch on the bratty flower and his antics?

Or should he leave the area to get what he needs for his goals?

“Save those who could still be saved, huh…?”

At noon, he began writing two letters to fax to the Willowherb R&D. The first one was a detailed report of his experiments, including his method, results, and conclusion. In the second letter, he wrote: ‘For Anya Willowherb’s eyes only’. Anything beyond that was left in shorthand, so regular people wouldn’t be able to understand it.

And yet, The Phantom circled overhead in glee. “I know! I know what you’re thinking! Yes, you’re embracing what you truly are! Isn’t it wonderful, Sans? This feeling of being honest with yourself?”

Dust asked, “You think so?”

“Why yes! It is certainly miles better than being a bumming hotdog seller at a sentry station. Or a dumb punny comedian! Those two jobs were a total waste of time. No hard feelings about your science gig, though. That one’s nice and complementary to our current job. Even though I doubted it at first, last night really changed my mind.”

Clasping his red floating gloves in hope, The Phantom wished out loud: “One day, we will travel the world as our true selves, reaping the harvest together.”

The elder brother finished the last stroke of his pen. “Baby steps, bro, baby steps. Let’s not push our luck too far.”

Were he to commit to this letter, he will have to face the outside world soon. The legendary Surface. Or what’s left of it at least.

Dust vividly remembered those ‘legends’ held dear by his people: traditional stories that were seen as historical, but never could be authenticated.

Some turned out to be true, like the immense power of a merged human and monster.

Others were proven to be false, such as the proposed unstoppable might of humankind.

Then there was the Celestial Calamity, once considered mere fiction, yet so, so real in retrospect.

In truth, Dust knew nothing about The Surface with any degree of certainty. A daunting unknown lay beyond Ebott's borders, absolute and unforgiving.

Was he ready? Would he ever be?

That too, he did not know. Whatever may be, it was now or never.

Dust’s shorthand message read the following: ‘Does the military or The Hero’s Guild need another weapon? You know what I’m capable of. Come tomorrow to discuss the terms.’

And so, after much deliberation, the letters were sent. There was no turning back anymore.

* * *

April 18, 2021.

About 7 in the morning, Dust received the notice for an urgent mission. It’s possible that they already had him in mind. Jobs don’t pop up that quickly otherwise.

He waited for the pickup ride at the front of the house. In his grip was a length of magic-dampening cloth, cut from the cloak that he was provided.

As per agreement, Anya Willowherb arrived with her jeep as the mission coordinator. It must be her and no one else, Dust had demanded. He was not going to start trusting random strangers just because they wore a uniform.

He rode shotgun, buckled his seatbelt, closed his eyes, then blindfolded himself.

“Huh?” Confused, Anya asked, “Why do you need to do that?”

“Photosensitivity,” Dust replied. “Sunlight’s been stinging my eyes ever since I used the machine. So without sunglasses I’ll have to settle for this.”

Not having to face the ruins of the outside world was a nice, added bonus. He had already seen enough.

The woman pondered out loud. “Hmm. If that’s the case, then I have a practical solution for you.”

He felt Anya pull back his hood. Then, she fitted something on his head.

Tracing the shape with his fingers, Dust noted, “It’s a baseball cap lined with magic-suppressing fabric.”

“Correct. It will help stave off the bloodlust, especially during our current mission. And, as per design, it should cut down some glare. I took the measurements from one of your mementos.”

A slight chuckle breathed from his teeth. “Sneaky.”

Anya started to drive. Along the way, she asked: “Can you hear me?”

Dust nodded. “Yup, loud and clear.”

“Affirmative. I will brief the mission right now. In short, we have a hostage situation at a hospital in a nearby town.”

An oddly mundane request, thought Dust. He asked, “Can’t The Hero’s Guild handle them on their own? What about the local police force?”

“The enemy didn’t attempt any negotiations. What’s worse, tools from our R&D have detected signs of magic. It’s likely we’re dealing with mages. Perhaps necromancers.”

“Ah, I see. If they’re not after money or leverage, then they’re there for the souls. Those chumps are gonna turn a whole building’s worth of the sick and helpless into magical fuel, aren’t they?”

“Correct, Mister Dust,” she confirmed. “Your objective is twofold. One, to destabilise their defences with a solo ambush. Two, to destroy any existing ritual sites. Meanwhile The Hero’s Guild will focus on rescue efforts. Any enemy lives you claim shall be yours to keep.”

“What about the bounty money?”

“It will be used to treat the Conroys, as you have requested.”

“Good.”

He made himself comfortable and relaxed in his seat, getting as much rest as he could before the big job.

But then… he heard a high-pitched screech overhead. It didn’t sound like a native bird of prey, or any other wildlife.

He received only one brief warning from the driver: “Hold on tight.”

The jeep accelerated. Yet, despite pushing the engine to its limits, Dust could hear the ear-piercing shrieks approach the vehicle at a rapid pace.

Something slammed against his door, trying to get inside. He could sense an overwhelming aura of malice permeating through the steel chassis.

Ethereal lights took down whatever creature tried to attack the jeep. They shone so bright they pierced his blindfolds, stinging his eyes. Anya had apparently summoned her ghostly squad to protect their ride.

The Phantom whispered into his ear. “Wowie, brother! Take off your silly blindfold already. Behold the magnificence of a real fight!”

Maybe a peek was enough to get a grasp of the situation? However, by the time he reached for his blindfolds, the ride became silent again.

Dust asked, “Huh? It’s over already?”

Anya replied with a tinge of proud confidence. “They’re just standard Medusae. Nothing that I can’t handle.”

“Medusa-wha?” He raised his brow.

“Screaming heads with snakes for hair. They have a tendency to float aimlessly like jellyfish. That is, until they spot a potential victim.”

Hearing that left Dust speechless.

Anya must have expected it, since she followed up with an explanation. “You’ve read about ‘The Hollow’, correct? That’s one of them. They’re solidified curses, morphing into baneful creatures of imagination through the accumulation of physical matter. The demon castle was full of them.”

“Huh. Weird.” Rubbing his chin, he commented, “Other than at a demon castle that I no longer remember, I’ve never met a Hollow.”

The conversation was cut short by the unison of gunfire in the distance. It was far too coordinated for hunting activities.

“What was that?” he asked.

She replied, “An execution squad.”

“Aren’t gallows cheaper? Bullets ain’t free.”

“It’s for safety reasons. You never know what’s going to erupt from Hollow corpses.”

Just when she mentioned that, he heard the ground rumble, followed by panicked screams as well as rapid gunfire.

“Ah,” said Anya, “Looks like they’ve found another parasitical Hollow. It’s a white lily. A pretty big one too.”

Killer flowers? Hollow parasites? And he still needed a moment to let the fact sink in that Anya talked about all sorts of fantastical horrors as though they were regular facts of life.

“Please hold tight again. We have Flesh Abominations blocking the road.”

“And you’re not slowing down?”

“We don’t have time to slow down.”

And so the necromancer and her jeep blazed through whatever the hell blocked the road.

Dust peeked through his blindfold. The jeep’s windshield got absolutely splattered. Pieces of bloody flesh and bone gradually slid off from the wind pressure.

What did the driver do? Switched on the wipers, as though she had just driven through a puddle of annoyance.

He put the blindfold back on. “Okay. Yeah. I’ve seen enough. Can you even drive with all that muck?”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Anya. “The physical remains of Hollows quickly liquidise once their magical adhesives turn to dust. The mess should scatter soon.”

“...That reminds me of monsters.”

Could it be said that Hollows were distant, soulless relatives of monsters? Dust recalled that he couldn’t read a single page about them in The Book of Curses. So much information, locked away. What prevented him?

While he pondered, a click sounded from the dashboard. Radio static filled the air.

“Captain Anya Willowherb reporting. Connect me to Line 101.”

The jeep seemed to have a radio of sorts for communication. He expected her to handle the talking business, but then…

“Hellooooo!” A deep but jolly voice rolled out from the speakers. “It’s good to finally speak to The Lone Defender himself! How are you?”

Dust realised that the caller just addressed him directly in person. Grunting towards Anya, he grumbled: “What the hell? I’ve told ya that I don’t want to meet anyone new.”

What’s worse, it was another hopelessly jolly soul like Stephan and Papyrus, waiting to be crushed by some harsh reality. Dust would rather not suffer yet another heartbreak.

Anya replied, “Like it or not, that’s your new boss. Meet James Pashowar, the current leader of The Hero’s Guild.”

“Pashowar…?” A rather unusual surname, even by monster standards. “I’ll stick to ‘James’, if you don’t mind.”

The man on the radio laughed. “A casual guy, I see. That’s fine. Feel free to address me by my first name if that’s more comfortable to you. I’m no stick in the mud. I hope Captain Willowherb and her acolyte Stephan have been treating you well.”

How awkward. Dust lowered his head and touched the edge of his cap, muttering: “Too kind, to be honest.”

“Excuse me?”

It seemed that the microphone didn’t pick up those words. Dust quickly switched to more blunt mannerisms. “Nevermind. So. What does the big boss want from me? I don’t think you’re taking precious time off just to strike some idle chat.”

James replied: “You’re as sharp as the rumours claim. Let’s cut to the chase then: have you ever met a human being that just seemed… unstoppable?”

The skeleton noticed a subtle shift of tone. Less friendly and more serious business. “Elaborate.”

“Someone who dodged far too well, as though they knew every trick in the book. The kind who seems to know the perfect words to pull the right strings. One could say they always know how to act for the best outcome. And, whenever you meet them, there’s a sense of unusual familiarity in the air. You might call it a ‘deja vu’.”

Hearing that sent a chill up his spine. Many years ago, there once was a child who eerily matched those descriptions.

Suspicious, Dust questioned: “Why do you want to know? Frankly speaking, I don’t trust you enough to answer.”

“Understandable. Trust is a two-way street, after all. Then, allow me to extend my hand to you in the name of future cooperation. You see, I was once that unstoppable human.”

“…Once?”

And James answered: “Once. But not any more.”

Dust frowned. “I already know that the monster myth about humans is false. No matter how strong, swift, or cunning, no human could survive without their head. Or heart. Or blood. Or other assorted vital organs. That’s not counting infectious diseases.”

“Yet,” James countered, “That myth contains a grain of truth. Except, it has nothing to do with humanity as a whole. It’s reserved for the strongest of the strong. This special gift is bestowed to the most worthy: the King of Mankind. Unfortunately, I was dethroned six years ago. And the world has been plunged into chaos ever since.”

“Okay,” Dust nodded. “But if you lost the crown, who’s sitting in your seat?”

“Nobody knows. It could even be empty. Still, not all is lost. Reclamation begins with ending The Celestial Calamity. That is where you come in, Mister Dust. Complete this mission and I guarantee you’ll get a helpful tool for your research.”

“Heh. Fine. That’s what I signed up for anyway.”

The jeep then came to a stop. Anya announced, “We’ve arrived at our destination. Willowherb signing out.”

“Hold on, Captain Willowherb! I’m not done yet--”

She switched the radio off despite her boss’ protest. “Please take off your blindfolds now, Mister Dust.”

“Alright.” With his sight restored, he got out of the jeep. They stood on top of a hill, overlooking a living, breathing human town.

The town had more intact buildings than broken ones. Also, it was the first time in many years that Dust had seen scaffolding: a sign of reconstruction, however slow and laborious it may be.

Despite the apparent peace, his attention shifted to a large building surrounded by military personnel.

“Am I looking at the right place?” Dust asked, pointing at the rain-stained ‘EMERGENCY’ sign, “No other hospitals in town?”

Anya confirmed: “Indeed, you are. That is the only one. Can you make the jump from here?”

Dust pulled up his hood and mapped the route in his mind. “Yup. I think I see an opening. See ya later.”

And thus – grinding his soles into the ground in preparation for the teleport – The Lone Defender sprung into action.

* * *

Guns and knives crumbled into broken pieces. Blood spilled and splattered. Bodies fell one after another, drained of their lifeforce.

Anyone who exhibited killing intent was exterminated with great prejudice.

His precision was almost surgical, his cuts ever-so clean. Blasters were too big and noisy for this scenario, so he kept to his bone lances to finish the job.

Another area, secured. Dust ignored the bewildered stares of the rescued hostages, moving on to his next objective.

He couldn’t stay around for long even if he wanted to. The urge to take their lives rose with every bit of EXP. Twisted reasonings crept into the edges of his thoughts, trying to justify the murder of innocents.

‘End their suffering’.
‘End their toil’.

Closer and closer his logic began aligning with the Book of Curses. As a result, The Phantom had the time of his life, cackling in euphoric joy. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! This is how you should be! Look at all those slow, pathetic humans flopping in futility. Complete and utter folly!”

Until now, the remaining enemies still hadn’t realised they were under attack. No messenger had escaped his grasp to relay the news.

It was then that Dust sensed a growing intensity of magic coming from the lower floors. He was certain a ritual was being activated there.

“Faster”, he muttered to himself. “I need to move faster.”

He followed a trail of red misty ribbons, flowing like Papyrus’ scarf, yet growing more opaque by the second. It was the first time he witnessed this phenomenon, and he wasn’t sure if it was visible to humans. Scanning them with his magic eye revealed that they’re made out of Determination.

The biggest cluster of ribbons led him to the emergency stairway. His eye’s flames burned in anticipation. Streaks of cyan and red trailed behind him as he teleported down the airwell.

Before long, he arrived at the basement parking lot. There, he found seven hooded humans, standing around a dark red orb.

A crimson vortex bloomed at the edges. The image reminded Dust of the cursed eclipse.

Swift judgement fell upon those condemned souls that day. The heretics met their ends without so much as a shred of mercy. No longer did they have the opportunity to plead, beg, or reason.

Once the final caster had been felled, Dust summoned his Blaster. He aimed it square at the magic circle and used the beam to scrape off the concrete surface.

Bereft of its power, the vortex collapsed into the orb and fizzled out. The ribbons of Determination dissipated, returning stillness to the air.

“…Mission accomplished.” He wiped the bloodstains off his face with his thumb. “I should go and report.”

Just when he was about to leave, he spotted a red gleam on the ground.

“Huh? What’s that?”

He walked over to it and crouched. A tiny crystalized heart lay on the scoured concrete, glowing ever so faintly.

The first thing he did was try to read its details. What came back was nothing more than gibberish data.

“Pick it up,” The Phantom urged from the back of his mind. “Hurry!”

Dust reached out and plucked the object from the ground. Upon contact, boundless voices whispered in his ears.

They filled his mind.
They filled his heart.
They filled his soul.

Startled, he released his grip on the crystal.

“God…” he said, disturbed. “That thing is made of human souls. Extracted, condensed, and compressed into a jewel.”

Seeing his reluctance, The Phantom whined, “Aren’t you gonna keep the spoils? C’mon, you always used to do that. Add this to our trophy collection!”

“Taking this back without telling anyone will paint a bullseye on my skull. No thanks. I intend to submit this gem into custody of The Hero’s Guild. They’ll know what to do with it.”

It’s a good thing he brought the blindfold along. He wrapped it up and pocketed it. Then, up to the rooftops he went. And from there he zipped back to the jeep where Anya waited.

The woman had a tiny box in hand, emblazoned with spellcraft. Seemed like she came prepared to contain whatever hazardous magical object he’d find in enemy possession.

Handing over the bundle, he said: “Take it and do whatever.”

She unwrapped the crystal from the cloth. Touching it made her flinch, meaning that she must have felt its effects too. Nonetheless, she held out long enough to place it in the box.

However, instead of tucking the container away safely… she offered to give it to the skeleton. Blindfold included.

Confused, Dust asked: “Lady? Is something the matter?”

Without saying anything else, she opened the jeep door and switched on the radio.

The boss of the Hero’s Guild came back online: “Aha! I see you’ve returned victorious, Mister Dust. Congratulations! About the item you’ve found at the ritual site… That’s the tool I had promised you. A Red Soulstone, also known as a ‘Bloodstone’. It should expedite your research.”

The Lone Defender narrowed his gaze. Now, it made sense why Anya drove here at top speeds. “You knew what was going down in that hospital. They would have summoned another Celestial Calamity if I hadn’t made it in time.”

“I suspected as much. The probability was high enough to consider your involvement even without confirmation.” James noted, “While you curbed the spread of Ebott’s Calamity, others have sought to hijack its power. They do so by hunting down humans with magical potential, absorbing their psychia into these Soulstones.”

“That’s logical,” said Dust. “Boss Monsters have gone extinct. They need a replacement for a great source of power, somehow. I’m guessing Reds make the best stones?”

James let out a short ‘hmm’. Then, he replied: “Reds just happen to be the most flexible. Their Determination can be used to augment other traits, regardless of origin. Hopefully, this means you can lessen the strain on your body during your next experiment. Making yourself both operator and battery is tantamount to suicide.”

“Welp. It was a wild ride for sure.”

The mission turned out more fruitful than he had expected. With the ability to split the load, he could tweak the machine to spare his questionable constitution.

Dust accepted the reward with a slight sigh. “Alright. It’s mine now. No regrets, okay?”

James chuckled on the other side. “Rest easy. I’m a man of my word.”