Chapter 15, Decisions

Laurent's day had been … convoluted, to say the least. Naught but a scant handful of hours ago, he and his companions were racing up the dying slopes of Mount Prism, the last bastion of Naga's divinity in the Fell Dragon's ruinous world. He'd been forced to bear witness to his Teacher's final stand, as his beloved mentor drew upon an unknown wellspring of power to fell hordes of Risen, all at the expense of his own dwindling health, sacrificing himself so that Laurent and the others could arrive at Naga's ritual portal unmolested.

With the pain of his loss still fresh, Laurent was hurtled into the past and reunited with a younger version of his Teacher. Hope thrived within his breast as he became acquainted with Nah's mother and the fabled tactician of the Shepards, indisputable evidence that the portal connecting their eras functioned as promised, only to be just as swiftly extinguished upon discovering the Divine Dragon's ritual had erred, and he was stranded three years before their strategized destination. Moreover, he arrived alone, forcing him to hypothesize that his companions would be equally scattered across Ylisse. The arrival of the Risen must have contributed an anomalous variable to the Divine Dragon's ritual, thus causing an incongruity in her spell that concluded in the results he now observed.

[Worrywart]

Laurent shook his head to clear it of senseless doubt. He could not encumber himself with the minuses of his circumstances, not when the positives shone bright as well. His mentor was alive; he and his companion's parents were alive; the Fell Dragon had yet to be resurrected.

And the cuisine his Teacher had singlehandedly prepared for them was superb beyond measure as they lounged in luxury within their pavilion. Why, he assembled a veritable feast that would make the Divine Dragon herself waggle her tongue like a common mutt. The pumpkin stew was so rich in texture that warmth surged throughout every crook and bend of his body. The seafood fried rice transported his senses to the vast sea, serenading him with its unending bounty. The gourmet meat curry assaulted his taste buds with an onslaught of immense flavors that left him craving for more.

These were but the tip of the culinary iceberg his Teacher had in store for them.

Laurent could not recall the last time he ate to his satisfaction. Food was strictly rationed in the future, due to its scarcity. What little they did consume was often limited to tasteless jerky, hard bread, a raw vegetables farmed from dying soil. Such a strict diet was particularly difficult on their more voracious eaters, such as Nah and Kjelle. Teacher often tried to smuggle the two more to eat, but they would refuse upon discovering these extra portions came from their mentor's own helpings.

Only now could Laurent appreciate the true depths at which his Manakete companion was enduring her own hunger, as he witnessed her mother, Nowi, guzzle meals by the dozen. Good heavens, her caloric intake could rival a small militia's!

The tactician, Robin, on the other hand was much more subdued. While it was evident she was relishing all the feast had to offer, she was observing Teacher with an incisive eye.

"Guardian, what's wrong?" Robin inquired, referring to Teacher by that odd moniker Laurent had never been privy to.

"Nothing," was Teacher's laconic response.

Oh, Laurent was quite well acquainted with that tone. It was his deflection when Teacher was mired with troubles he declined to share with others. As weak as he was, infirmed physically and magically, Teacher could be more stubborn than the healthiest of oxen. His secrets were more heavily guarded than Owain's collection of notes dedicated to improving his theatrical antics.

"You know I hate it when you clam up like that," the tactician continued, her eyes narrowing into a glare.

Laurent was blessed with the rare experience of witnessing his Teacher cringe.

"Sorry," his Teacher mumbled clumsily. "I've got a lot on my mind."

The tactician's leer lessened. "Who wouldn't after what we learned?" Only for it to instantaneously zero in on Laurent, who found himself quailing beneath her scrutiny.

He was well aware the Shepard's prospective tactician thought ill of his need to reserve vital information pertaining to the future, but remained stalwart in his decision.

It was a verdict he, Lucina, and Gerome reached during their most recent council. They'd compiled what knowledge of the past they could, and devised a stratagem to prevent the Fell Dragon's rebirth with the highest probability of success. To that end, certain facets of history were required to play out as intended for them to best utilize their prescience. Informing his Teacher, the tactician, and Nah's mother of tragedies to come would incite them into taking action, actions that would inevitably alter the timeline Laurent and his companions were familiar with.

It was not optimal, but he very much doubted preserving the world would ever be a simple task.

"I stand by my decision," Laurent declared, hoping his voice did not betray the true depth of his nervousness. Goodness, the tactician possessed a glare that could subdue a wyvern! "The information I possess could cause untold tragedies in the wrong hands."

"Such as ours?" the tactician queried. What a double-edged question!

"You should try sharing," Nah's mother said glibly, licking her plate of curry clean. "Robin's really smart! She could totally help you with whatever you need help with!"

A surprisingly valid proposal. The Shepard's tactician was renown for her insightful command of the battlefield, employing tactics capable of turning the tides of even the most hopeless of conflicts.

Yet he was reminded of Lucina's warnings, how the last Princess of Ylisse harbored doubts towards the tactician. While Laurent believed them to be unfounded, especially after conversing with the Shepard's strategist himself, he could not—in good conscious—turn a deaf ear to his companion's instincts. As unempirical as they were, Lucina's insight had saved Laurent and the rest of their companions time and time again.

"Once again, I ask for your understanding," Laurent said, attempting to drown out the bitter taste proliferating in his mouth with a spoonful of soup. He did not wish to distrust them so, but needs must. "It is a regrettable necessity, but I will not reveal what has taken place within my era."

The tactician persisted with her pinning glare for several prolonged seconds before returning her focus to her skewer of honeyed bear meat.

"Boo!" Nah's mother complained. "Can't you at least tell us about your friends? That shouldn't be a big secret, right?"

"A fair suggestion," the tactician said between bites. "There's a chance they were sent too far into the past, like yourself. Possibly even further. Some might've been here for years, without anyone realizing. Their names and a general description would go a long way to finding them."

What a horrifying prospect, one Laurent failed to consider!

"Don't worry about it too much," his Teacher said from outside the pavilion, maintaining a watchful eye on his sizeable cooking pot. "If all the portals are as showy as yours, with fireworks and a Risen cheerleading squad to boot, we would've heard news of them."

"Unless they took place in Plegia … or Valm."

"Robin, stop freaking the kid out."

"I'm only trying to see if he slips up with a bit of applied panic."

How devious! As expected of the Shepard's strategist! Nevertheless, Laurent foresaw no serious harm in conversing about his close companions, so long as he avoided the subject of their parents.

He started off with a summary of their physical appearances, before moving onto personal quirks. "Lucina is our de facto leader, strong willed and serious, and determined to save as many as her noble blade can reach. Gerome is often considered her unofficial lieutenant, for he is quite involved with ensuring our day to day operations run as smoothly as possible. He was quite the defeatist at first, but a brief sit-down with Teacher corrected his fatalistic mentality." In actuality it devolved into a round of fisticuffs, ending in many tears and expunging deep-seated uncertainties; despite missing an arm, leg, and an eye, Teacher emerged victorious. "Owain is …" Laurent could not withhold a long suffering sigh "… colorful." A most charitable descriptor. "Inigo adopts the guise of a womanizer, though his attempts at wooing the fairer sex are mediocre at best. Contrary to his outward persona, he's easily crestfallen and often requires Teacher's council. Nah—"

"Ooh! My fellow Manakete with the weird name!" Nah's mother laughed.

Laurent wanted to clarify that Nah's appellation was Nowi's own doing, but withheld as it would reveal too much. "Yes, that is her. She does her best to maintain an image of maturity, but is often broken by bouts of childishness … and rampant misunderstandings. However, as she is a Manakete, she believes it is her duty to confront enemies others cannot, claiming it to be her obligation as a dragon."

"She sounds like a stick in the mud. What about games? What kind of games does she like to play?"

"Nah often claims to have no time for jocular activities, electing to commit most of her waking hours to training."

"Training, schmaining! How old is Nah?"

"Same as myself: 16 years of age."

"Then that's no good!" Nah's mother scolded. "She's too young to be overusing her powers like that! She'll end up hurting herself!"

"Your concerns, while justified, are unfounded," Laurent assured the Manakete. "Nah's father, our Teacher, is … was well informed of the issue, and forbad Nah from overextending herself."

"Sounds like a great guy! Who was he?"

Laurent made a concerted effort not to glance his Teacher's younger self's way. "A good man, and that is all I am willing to say on the matter."

"Was he a Manakete?"

"No, he was human."

"Ooh! So Nah's mom was the Manakete! Tell me everything about her!"

Laurent appreciated the irony of the inquiry. "No comment. All I will say is that Nah's parents passed away when she was very young."

"Hold a moment," the tactician interrupted. "I thought you said your teacher was her father."

"He adopted her," Laurent clarified. "Nah's biological father entrusted her care to those he called friends, but they were neglectful at best, offended by the mere notion of sheltering a half-breed. Teacher discovered the dismal circumstances of Nah's home life and promptly took her in as his own."

"Oh thank GOD!" his Teacher suddenly shouted, to the consternation of everyone else. He would not expound on his outburst, yet Laurent observed his Teacher stood less encumbered.

"Any other friends we should know about?" the tactician asked.

"Brady is a priest, and an immensely reliable one at that. One might initially assume him to be a knave from his boorish manner, but the truth is that he is a caring and sensitive soul. Kjelle can best be described as a tomboy, and while she is protective of others she takes a dim view of what she sees as weakness. Yet no matter how feeble our Teacher became, she would always be one of the first to come to his aid. Noire is … easily intimidated, as she was often subjected to her mother's curses as a child."

"That's terrible!" the tactician cried. "What kind of mother would do that to their own daughter?"

"I fear I cannot say as Th—her mother was an oddity at the best of times. Teacher did what he could to shield Noire, but she did not wish to add to our Teacher's burden and often elected to suffer in silence."

"If I could time travel to your future I'd introduce this wretch's face to my fist," the tactician grumbled, unusually engrossed by the matter. Though extrapolating from the rumors surrounding Tharja, Noire's mother, doing so might spark an entirely separate host of issues.

"Cynthia is endlessly enthusiastic," Laurent continued. "Her greatest aspiration is to become a hero, as she adores the valiant fables our Teacher shares when he can. Severa is difficult, choosing to lash out with her barbed tongue at the most inopportune of times. Of all my companions, she and I get along the least. Teacher often told me Severa normally means the opposite of what she says, yet I remain unconvinced. Last, there is Yarne. I will not mince words: he is a coward, living in constant fear of any which might imperil him. I understand he takes his survival quite seriously, as he is the last Taguel, yet it would harm no one if he tempered his trepidation with a bit of courage."

"Taguel? Didn't you mention them to me before?" the tactician asked his Teacher. "They're Beastkin, people who can transform into giant rabbits, right?"

"Nice memory," his Teacher confirmed.

"I thought you said their last survivor's name was Panne?"

"It is, so either I'm wrong, or Laurent's friend Yarne is Panne's future son."

Laurent felt a coldness tighten around him. The depth of his Teacher's perspicacity was frightful! How much could he divine from Laurent with but a glance should he so chose?

"Wow, you've got so many friends! You're so lucky!" Nah's mother cheered.

"It was not always so," Laurent said, smiling faintly in remembrance. "When Teacher first brought us together, we could not be anymore dissimilar. Our only relation with one another were our parents, as they fought together in the same army. Some of us were pleased to be acquainted, while others wished for the peace of seclusion. Teacher changed that, familiarizing us with one another, the seeds of our fledgling bonds enduring the harsh realities of the battlefield until our rapport is what it is today. I would gladly exchange my life for any of my comrades', Severa included. Our Teacher made us more than friends; we are family."

"He sounds like an amazing man," the tactician said.

"Because he is … and the world is lessor for his loss," Laurent lamented. While a younger version of his Teacher existed here, the one who cared for him after the passing of his parents, introduced him to thaumaturgy, regaled him with tales of his mother and father, and gave him the close friends he cherished to this day, died making the greatest sacrifice of all.

Laurent felt a drizzle wet his cheeks. Brushing them, he saw they were tears, held back until this very moment.

His Teacher's younger self walked into the pavilion, his features inscrutable behind his mask. "That's enough questions for today. I think Laurent deserves to have a moment to himself."

The tactician, noticing Laurent's tears, nodded and took her meal outside. Even Nah's mother left without complaint, though not without imparting a gentle embrace. It wasn't a playful grab, as he'd come to expect from the childlike Manakete, but a hug of patient understanding, one befitting her millennium of age.

"It's okay to be sad," she whispered to him before heading outside.

His Teacher departed soon after, closing the spacious tent's flap behind him. Left on his own, Laurent listened to the wretched wails of his heart, and wept for the man who'd done so much for him.

~

We gave Laurent the room he needed to grieve. Following linner, Nowi spent her free time frolicking on the oasis' shore, dragging Robin along with her. I cleaned the used dishes, the mundane and repetitive task giving me much needed time to think.

Honestly, I barely gave a shit about what happened to Future-Me anymore, as all my thoughts were now converging upon a singular purpose: how was I going to protect Robin from future Grima?

There was no way to stop the future Fell Dragon from time traveling, as that ship had sailed. Laurent's arrival was proof the deed was already done.

How did the damn six-eyed lizard attempt to possess Robin, anyways? What was the process involved? Did it require direct contact, or could the Fell Dipshit commence possession the instant it landed in the past through magical shenanigans? I didn't know, as the game never went into details about the process.

At the moment, I could think of two possible solutions: ensure Robin couldn't be possessed in the first place, or find a way to restore her memories after future Grima's failed attempt at body snatching. The only problem: I didn't know how I was supposed to accomplish either of these.

A wooden plate shattered into fragments in my frustrated grip, shooting splinters into my palm and fingers, but I barely paid it any mind. There was a solution, there had to be. I refused to even entertain the notion that Robin's fate was set in stone!

One way or another, I'd find a way to protect my friend!

~

The following morning I whipped up a hearty breakfast for everyone before we broke camp. If Robin noticed the extra bear meat in her omelet, she made no mention of it. Laurent's eyes were still red from yesterday's tears, but was much more mentally centered than before. When Nowi eagerly told him why we were here, searching for the fabled Mirage Village, his curiosity was peaked. He asked to accompany us, if only temporarily, as his mother's old research notes made mention of the elusive settlement as well as her wish to one day unravel its mysteries. As she could no longer achieve this, Laurent hoped to fulfill it in her stead.

No one had any complaints, so after our pavilion was packed and stored away in my Inventory we got on our Master Cycle Zeros and began scouring the desert.

As we drove over dune after dune, I maintained my silence the entire time. I was in no mood for meaningless chitchat. I hadn't slept a wink last night, searching for a solution to my most pressing problem.

I thought [Alteration] would've been my saving grace, but extensive experimentation revealed its stark limitations. Granting an item a "trait" required that I have a basic understanding of the attribute I was bestowing. For example, I could give my Silver Greatbow [True Shot] because I understood wind conditions and other variables could throw off a long distance shot. Giving clothes [Warmth] to protect us from Feroxi cold and [Cool] to stave off desert heat worked because I'd received a standard education on high school science.

The SYSTEM also helped when it came to [Alteration]. Trying to give my Silver Tower Shield [Anti-Magic] failed because I'd no idea how to actually make something totally immune to magic, thus it was reduced to [Resist Magic] by copying my own resistance stat and applying it to my makeshift shield. Continuing on, I could even apply the spell power of an [Arcthunder] to a sword, transforming it into a magic sword that released lightning like a tome, thanks to the intimate knowledge and understanding granted by [Structural Analysis].

Yet this was also why trying to use [Alternation] to create a trait of [Anti-Possession], [Mind Retention], or [Memory Recall] continuously failed: because I'd no idea how to stop someone from getting possessed in the first place, or how to restore an amnesiac's memories.

If I wanted to successfully utilize these traits, I needed to find something—a magical artifact or cursed item (either would do)—with the properties I sought and go from there. But I didn't know if anything so convenient existed. Maybe the Anna Family could help? I'd definitely ask them, but if they came up empty …

Around midday we stumbled across the largest oasis we've seen by far. It was the size of a small lake, surrounded by verdant greenery with fennec foxes, camels, and baby bobcats lapping up the water by its shores to rehydrate. Yet it wasn't the oasis itself that grabbed our attention, but the dozens of different localized mirages—shimmering veils of distorted air—spaced around the font of life in the middle of this arid desert.

Reinforcing my sight, my vision zoomed in on one of the mirages. For an instant, I thought I glimpsed a thriving settlement behind the hazy illusion. One of these could've been the fabled Mirage Village we'd come here for, but I couldn't say for certain.

Too bad I didn't have the Lens of Truth on me.

Robin parked her Projection of the Master Cycle Zero beside mine. "What is it, Guardian?"

"Settlements, I think," I grunted.

Nowi scrambled atop of Robin's surprised shoulders and started sniffing the air.

"Goodness. What manner of frivolity has possessed her now?" Laurent murmured from behind me.

"Baddies. I smell baddies," Nowi said, her head on a constant swivel as she tried to pinpoint the source.

Judging from the direction the wind was gently blowing, Nowi's mysterious "baddies" were approaching us from the west. Turning in that direction, my Reinforced sight easily spotted several disheveled heads peaking over the crest of the faraway dune.

My gut knew exactly what they were: bandits. My hatred for Ylisse's brigands was further poisoned by my foul mood. I didn't know why the murder hobos were here, nor did I care. All I saw were fools too stupid to realize they were already dead.

"I'll take care of them," I announced, my tone brooking no argument.

"Who are they?" Robin asked, her natural eyesight nowhere are keen as mine.

"Bandits," I practically spat.

Laurent was unsettled by my sudden bloodlust, but wisely kept his concerns to himself.

"Then we'll leave them to you," Robin said. "The rest of us will investigate the villages. Meet up with us when you're done."

"Hold. Is this truly the most efficacious stratagem?" Laurent protested. "Our enemy's numbers are untold. Would the … Guardian"—he struggled not to call me Teacher—"not be imperiled should the opposition exceed our expectations?"

Nowi hopped off Robin's back to give the time traveler a pat on the knee. "Don't you worry about a thing! Sparky's way stronger than he looks!"

"I am not doubting his capabilities, merely expressing my concern that we might be underestimating—"

I tuned out whatever else the kid had to say as I stashed my Divine Beast in my Inventory (Laurent yelped when the Sheikah motorcycle abruptly vanished beneath him) and marched towards the soon-to-be cadavers.

Noticing my approach, our voyeurs hastily scrambled down the other side of the sandy dune, vanishing from my line of sight.

They were trying to escape from me.

Reinforcing my legs, I burst into motion. Sand exploded beneath my every step as I shot across the desert, closing in on my targets like an arrow in flight. I scaled the dune in no time flat and stood atop its ridge to see where my prey had fled to.

To my surprise, they hadn't. Instead, they'd been waiting for me at the base. As Laurent feared, there were more bandits than previously anticipated: nearly 100 in total, haphazardly spaced out without much rhyme or reason. Their skin was tanned by years of baking beneath the desert sun, and made coarse from living through relentless sandstorms. Yet enduring such hardships made them hardier, as they no longer looked upon me—their boogieman—with fear, but eager confidence.

"So ya've come, Fiend!" one of the bandits bellowed. From the way he stood at the head of the pack, he was obviously the self-designated leader.

I didn't deign them with a response, choosing to descend down the hill of sand one deliberate step at a time.

"Bet yer wonderin' how there be so many of us!" the uneducated dimwit continued with baseless bravado. "We've got ya to thank fer that! Huntin' down us honest folk like a mangy mutt that's lost their bone! Fleein' to this Naga forsaken corner of Ylisse was the only way fer us to survive, and survive we did! We've spent years preparin' fer this day, Fiend, and at long last we'll be drinkin' from yer skull tonight!"

His fellow pests exploded into meaningless cheers, baring their weapons as if they expected me to quaver at the sight of their poorly maintained armaments.

I kept my pace until I reached the base of the dune, standing mask to face with the boisterous braggart.

His scarred and toothy smile widened as he hefted his rusty steel axe and sneered, "And when we're all done with ya, my boys and I will be havin' great fun with yer pretty lady—"

"Shut up and die."

I ripped Balmung out of my Inventory and slashed it across the fool's chest, the legendary blade passing through flesh and bone like they were nothing but warm butter. The bandit died with his cocky smirk etched on his face as the top half of his body was cleanly separated from the rest.

The incessant cheering died on the spot.

I didn't have time to waste on these worthless heaps of trash. I'd already scanned each and every one of them with [Structural Analysis] and saw they were little more than ants beneath my heel. Even faced down by this army of pissants, my mind never left my best friend's predicament. Damn it all! Why did this crap have to happen to Robin? Because it happened in the game? Because destiny said so? Well fuck them both! My friend's been through enough shit in her life, and she didn't need this wyvern crap messing with her as well!

The braver brigands lunged at me with reckless abandon, but their audacity still amounted to nothing. Balmung tore through them all, rending them into fleshy pieces that scattered and hit the sand around me.

I should tell Robin, tell her what was going to happen. Warn her. Perhaps together we could find a way to prevent it from happening. But doing so would require me to explain my knowledge of the future, my meta knowledge of the game, which would inevitably lead to an entirely different array of uncomfortable questions, like how I knew all this to begin with.

Witnessing the contemptuous ease at which I reaped their vanguard, the bandits' paltry swagger abandoned them on the spot. Their faces were swiftly overrun by that familiar expression of terror I associated with their worthless kind.

Could I tell Robin the truth? How I was dimensionally stranded in a world I previously considered to be nothing more than a video game? No, I was trying to help her, not give her an existential crisis.

Five points of magic fueled my [Reinforcement], lighting up my magic circuits and signaling the onslaught to come. I plunged into the frozen pack of brigands, hacked off heads, plunging Balmung through hearts, and fed the sword as much blood as it desired.

What if the Anna Family couldn't help me? I needed a Plan C, a Plan D, and plan for all the fucking alphabets! What if I grinded my way up to Level 20 to reach the [Fourth Milestone]? Did the Zelda-verse have anything out there for memory loss or its prevention? Breath of the Wild Link suffered from amnesia, but he restored his own memories by traversing to locations in Hyrule that held great personal significance to him. Somehow, I doubted that'd work for Robin.

The bandits finally started screaming as they realized they were rabbits that'd challenged a savage wolf, and immediately turned tail to bolt. I wouldn't let them. 10 points of magic empowered my [Reinforcement], making my circuits burn brighter as I hunted my prey down one life at a time.

What about Plan "Screw It All"? I could ditch the continent all together, throw Robin into a sack and set sail for Valm, or someplace on the other side of the damn world. Maybe overwhelming distance was the key to keeping her from the Fell Dragon's reach.

Full [Reinforcement].

Power roiled off me as bolts of pure energy, and every move I made wrought death to another. I didn't even need Balmung to massacre this rabble. I kicked one of the fleeing bastards in the head so hard it exploded like an overripe melon. When I punched another in the back they folded backwards over my arm before my fist exploded out of their stomach, sending blood and intestines all over the desert sand. I grabbed a third by their foot—pulverizing their ankle into paste in my grip—and swung them like a bat into another with such force they practically burst on contact, becoming an unrecognizable mess of bloody gore.

I no longer moved with a swordsman's finesse, but the primitive rage of a mindless beast, my own howls of desperation and outrage drowning out the dying cries of my victims.

Robin would never run, not out of fear of the Fell Dragon or any iteration of it. She'd discovered her resolve to face her fears head on, and live her life despite the destiny others had planned for her. To force her to flee would be no different from spitting in the face of her resolve.

Nor could I imagine myself abandoning the people I'd met, the friends and bonds I'd made, to Grima's petulant wrath.

"PROJECTION, START!" I screamed, cutting off my [Reinforcement]. "FULL BARRAGE, CONSECUTIVE FIRE!"

The sky was filled with iron, steel, and silver as all manner of weapons, accumulated within the SYSTEM's Catalogue, were brought forth by my magic. Like castle-breaking bolts fired from ballistae, death rained down upon the remaining brigands, ignoring their cries and pleas for mercy.

Decapitation. Dismemberment. Impalement.

Every weapon struck with such deadly force they practically exploded against the sand, rending everything and everyone to meaty pieces. None were spared from my merciless magic, as human beings were either transformed into fleshy pin cushions or scraps of unrecognizable meat.

It was happening again.

Once more, someone close to me was going to die, and I was terrified there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Chelsea, and now Robin; both killed because of my incompetence.

Robin's body might survive, but everything that made her my dearest friend would be wiped away. She'd become a stranger wearing my friend's face.

Chelsea's death sent me spiraling …

… so what would Robin's do to me?

"Goodness gracious."

As the world settled, and I rasped to regain my breath, I turned around to find Laurent. The kid was staring at me with undisguised awe and a hint of fear, his eyes constantly jumping between my blood-soaked form and the grisly remains of the deluded bandit army that thought to challenge me.

"Forgive my presumption, but I thought it best that you have reinforcements when engaging the unknown," Laurent said, adjusting his spectacles. "I see now that my aid was not required."

I didn't reply, merely dismissing the Projections that littered the desert.

The time traveler cast his gaze upon the devastation I singlehandedly wrought. "… astonishing. Were we all truly ignorant of the depths of his capabilities?"

"Who?" I asked.

Laurent frowned, realizing he'd spoken aloud. He opened his mouth, ready to retract his statement, yet thought better of it. "I speak of my Teacher."

"And why're you comparing me to him?"

I knew why, I was just being an ass about it.

"There are … undeniable similarities between the two of you."

Yeah, I'll bet. Though the way he said it made me wonder …

"Have you never seen your Teacher fight before?"

"His true capabilities eluded him due to his debilitating condition. My Teacher was both maimed and cursed when I was but an infant, condemning him to a slow but torturous end. Not only was he encumbered physically, but his ailment likewise prevented him from performing thaumaturgy as well. Many a remedies were attempted to cure him, but none bore fruit. It was our earnest belief that a cure existed in the past, when stores of knowledge and magic were not pillaged and razed by … our foe, yet our hopes were for naught."

Shit, a curse? A part of me was honestly still afraid such a thing was responsible for my SYSTEM's [ERROR].

"Who cursed him?"

Was it Validar? Or Aversa? If so, I'd need to send them a "Thank You" gift: a sword-arrow mailed at mach-velocity.

"He would not say." Damn it, Future-Me, try sharing a little! "I'm ashamed to admit that no one knew very much about our Teacher's past. While he would strive to answer many of our queries, he was tightlipped pertaining to matters about himself."

Crap baskets, that definitely sounded like me. Though it did make me wonder: did Future-Me's abilities differ from my own? Laurent's awe at my Tracing couldn't have been faked, meaning it was the first time he'd ever seen a demonstration of the ability. Cursed or not, if Future-Me knew [Projection, Trace Version] then I saw no reason why he wouldn't have told the future kids. He and I definitely earned different Milestone Rewards from the SYSTEM, so it wasn't hard to imagine he'd received different Personal and regular Skills as well. It made me curious, but not enough to distract me from the matter at hand.

"If I may be so bold," Laurent continued, "may I ask what bothers you?"

"Nothing," I said a bit too quickly.

Laurent sighed; my response was absolutely something he was used to hearing from Future-Me. He also knew pressing the matter would get him nowhere, so he didn't.

"What can you tell me about your teacher?" I asked. More information was better than none.

"He was … a man of a thousand regrets. Not a day went by where they did not haunt him. My companions and I would do everything within our power to alleviate his pain, but the burdens of the heart and mind were those he refused to share. When he sacrificed himself for us, ensuring we could escape … I cannot help but wonder if our Teacher believed death was his only recourse."

Was he trying to tell me something, in a roundabout way?

Nah, nothing ambiguous about it: he was practically saying he didn't want the same fate for me.

I was almost touched.

But right now, my own wellbeing was the last thing on my mind.

"Is there really nothing you'll share about the future?" I asked, pinning Laurent with a glare he could feel despite my mask.

The time traveler tensed, but remained stiff lipped. "I have made my stance on the matter perfectly clear."

He had. Robin grilled Laurent on future events earlier this morning, trying to take advantage of the disorientation wrought by early mornings, only to be sternly rebuffed by the irate mage. It was annoying, but Laurent was keeping his secrets locked up tight.

But I honestly didn't give a damn, not unless he miraculously had a solution to my fucking problems.

"Hey, any chance you know magic that can prevent possessions?" I asked.

Laurent's brow furrowed. "A centre of Ylisse's last mages pooled their intellectualism and our exiguous resources together in a bid to uncover the mechanism behind which the Fell Dragon exercised dominion over the Risen, yet I regret to say their studies were unavailing."

"What about ways to restore a person's lost memories?"

"Allocating what little capital was available to us on such an endeavor would have been viewed as wasteful. In our time of crisis, greater import was placed on means of improving survival and combat effectiveness."

In other words, he didn't have jack shit for me.

My dour mood plummeted even further, going subterranean so it could rant at the planet's core.

Biting down an irritated snarl I turned away from the field of corpses, letting the dry desert have what was left of their bodies, as I marched back to Robin and Nowi. Laurent followed close behind, recognizing my foul mood and wisely choosing to keep his nose where it didn't belong.

Opening my Inventory, I shed my blood-soaked clothes before equipping one of the many spare sets I kept in reserve. Laurent jumped when a fresh outfit literally appeared on me, and I could almost feel the air vibrate with the deluge of questions threatening to spill off the tip of his tongue, but the kid managed to hold it all in. Good, I didn't feel like entertaining his curiosity right now.

Regrouping with the others, we helped Robin and Nowi track down the true Mirage Village. I was barely paying attention, too lost in my own thoughts to contribute. Not that my aid was necessary, as Robin's keen mind was more than enough to crack the mystery behind the fabled desert.

I don't recall how or why, but she proudly returned while holding an ornate ivory staff with a set of artistically fashioned wings embracing an immaculate scarlet gemstone at its head.

[Goddess Staff, Rank: S]

A mythical staff that outshines all other restorative staves. Crafted from the bone of a saintly dragon, and blessed by a long forgotten Goddess of Healing, this staff can restore any and all wounds within a certain radius of its caster. Its range is determined by the wielder's proficiency in the sacred art as well as their magical capacity.

Durability: 1/1

Magic Cost: 5

[<Goddess Staff, Rank: S> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]

A staff that could restore any ailment of the body, but not the mind.

In other words, worthless.

~

We left the desert of Ylisse soon after, with Laurent accompanying us. He was still undecided with what he wanted to do, and we weren't going to leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere. Thus we drove our way to Ylisstol, the capital of Ylisse. If Laurent chose to go his own way, then the least we could do was drop him off at the heart of Ylissean civilization.

I, on the other hand, needed to get in contact with the local Anna (Annabern) to see if she or her family had what I needed.

I parked and stashed my Master Cycle Zero while dismissing its Projected counterpart when we were a mile outside the city, allowing us to walk the rest of the way.

None of us could've accounted for Laurent's reaction.

When the capital came into view, the time traveler became as still as a statue, his eyes more rounded than saucers. Nowi had to pick him up and carry Laurent the rest of the way. Despite looking like a child the Manakete was deceptively strong, and it was almost funny seeing a kid give the bespectacled teenager a piggyback ride into Ylisstol. Although the two of them garnered a whole lot of attention from the locals, Nowi didn't mind one bit while Laurent was too preoccupied drinking in the sight of the capital.

His shock wore off an hour later, and he thanked Nowi for her assistance before standing on his own two feet.

"It's beauteous," Laurent breathed as he marveled at anything and everything, from the people crowding the bustling streets to the intact stores and buildings lining the roads.

Robin deduced the reason behind his reaction before the rest of us. "It's different in the future, isn't it?"

Laurent stiffens his trembling lower lip. "Incontrovertibly. The disparity eclipses that of the sky and earth. We … we suffered onerous defeat after defeat, never once tasting true victory, until Ylisstol became the last bastion of humanity. Our adversaries crashed against its walls in an unending tide, and countless brave souls gave their lives to ensure its preservation. So much was lost … too much. In my time, but a scant fraction of the populace you see now remains, their smiles and felicity naught but a forgotten figment of the past."

"That's horrible," Nowi whimpered, trying to imagine such a world and shuddering at the result.

The mage's gaze paused upon a nondescript shop. Glancing over, I saw it was a teashop called "Agnes' Brews."

"An estaminet," the time traveler whispered, his lips curling.

"What about it? Is it a pivotal place in the future?" Robin asked, likely wondering if she should commit the location to memory.

"Not at all. In my time, this establishment is but one of many foreclosed ventures, its purpose made irrelevant by the forthcoming calamity, and the edifice itself rendered down for parts to aid in our continued survival. Upon returning from many a missions, my companions and I would ambulate this very road and pass that very emporium of beverages. It was a competitive endeavor of ours, a childish means to liven our festering despondency, to speculate the structure's erstwhile function. Owain would proclaim it to be the Exalt's onetime cache of mythological weaponry, while Severa was certain it was a boutique for fashionable apparel. I myself wagered it to be an archive for literary works and thaumaturgy tomes."

"Nobody guessed teahouse?"

"… I do believe said conjecture was Brady's." Laurent took a shuddering breath as he was assailed by several emotions at once.

"I'm so sorry you've had to go through so much," Robin said softly, placing a comforting hand on Laurent's trembling shoulder. Nowi joined in, hugging one of the kid's legs.

"Do not be," Laurent said as he stood straighter. "You are not responsible for the perils of my time."

I barely withheld from wincing. If only he knew.

"Are you sad? Do you need to cry again?" Nowi asked without scorn, but understanding.

"No. That which flutters within my breast is not sorrow, but hope. I see now what has been lost, and am enamored by its splendor. This. This is the reason why my companions and I braved the unbending currents of time: to preserve this sanctity of life, untouched by the perversion of evil." He faced us, and the renewed resolve in his eyes shone like polished steel. I noticed him unconsciously gripping the Red Ring adorning his left thumb. "Misfortune may have transposed me from my targeted destination, but my purpose remains unchanged. Regardless if I must wait three years or 30, I shall reconvene with my companions, and together we will endow Ylisse and her people the future they rightly deserves. Until that moment comes"—he took off his wizard's hat and bowed deeply—"allow me the honor of your company."

"You want to stick with us?" Robin asked for clarity's sake.

Laurent stood straight. "That is indeed my earnest wish."

"Of course you can!" Nowi cheered, almost tackling the time traveler to the ground with a running hug. "I love having more friends!"

Robin stroked her chin, contemplating. "Does this mean you'll tell us about—?"

"No," was Laurent's instantaneous reply.

My friend huffed, but ultimately let Laurent's sleeping dogs lie. "Fine. You'll be with us for the next three years, right? Plenty of time to ferret out your secrets."

The kid squared his shoulders, accepting the challenge.

Then they all looked to me, waiting for my own input.

I didn't give a damn.

"Do whatever you want," I said, walking away to find myself an Anna. I thought I'd spotted a glimpse of hurt behind Laurent's spectacles, but couldn't bring myself to care.

Just as Laurent traveled to the past to change his future, there was a future I wanted to change as well.

Three years, I still had three years to find a solution for Robin.

I would find a way, I still had time.

~

[Three years later …]

I was running out of time!

Where did the years go? I swear, all I did was blink before time slipped between my fingers like water. Now there was no telling how much longer Robin had! It could be a month, a week, a day, or possibly right this instant! All I knew for sure was that future Grima would absolutely make an attempt to possess her soon!

The Annas were of no help, so whenever we heard a stray rumor or over-embellished story pertaining to magical artifacts with great power or healing capabilities, I'd chase them down like a bloodhound in pursuit, with the others barely keeping up with me. Far too often, these leads led us nowhere, making me gnash my teeth at the time wasted.

My friends could tell I was bothered; they'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to see it. I tried to hide my desperation at first, but that became harder and harder as the years passed and the guillotine drew ever closer. They tried to ask what was wrong, but I always rebuffed them. Nowi put in extra effort trying to distract me with games, but these normally ended with me overpowering the dragon with Full [Reinforcement] and returning to my troubled brainstorming.

Robin tried to respect my privacy, but I could tell my tight-lipped attitude was wearing thin on her. It was only a matter of time before she shoved the two of us in a room, locked the door, and demanded answers.

And she deserved to know. These were her memories at jeopardy. Perhaps she would've been more productive with these past three years, making me miserable at the thought of my headless-chicken routine. The longer I went without telling her, the guiltier I felt, until the weight of my failure became almost too heavy to carry. One stray hitch, and it'd all come crashing down.

Laurent fit in rather well with our little band of adventurers. Ordinarily, he would've been stranded in the past all my himself, suffering through crushing loneliness as he feared the possibility of never seeing his allies ever again. This was a much better alternative, as he and Robin would chat and debate for hours on the principles and uses of magic, and I could toss him Nowi's way whenever the Manakete wanted to play and I felt too busy. It was a win-win for everyone.

Except Laurent, who continued to protest that Duck Duck Dragon was not a legitimate pastime activity.

Today, we were visiting Southport, a harbor city on the southern tip of Ylisse. Robin rented us a fishing boat and several rods, and we set sail to the open waters. My companions relished this rare moment of leisure as the sea's salty scent wafted through the air. Laurent was demonstrating a technique meant to significantly raise his chances of catching a bite, but so far had wound up with zilch. Nowi was trying to spear pasting schools of fish with her fishing rod rather than bait them with the line like a proper person, but her lack of success was making her fume. It was only a matter of time before she transformed and started snatching up lunch with her teeth and claws.

Robin's fishing rod remained unmoving, even when her lure dipped and bobbed as fish nibbled away at her bait. Instead, she was watching me intently. I knew she'd suggested this activity because I loved to fish, finding it incredibly relaxing.

Not today. My hands were gripping my fishing pole until the handle was cracking in my grip, while my agitated trembling shook my line so much that no fish dared approach my erratically dancing bait.

This was all an enormous waste of time, when future Grima could swoop in and pounce on Robin at any given moment. I wanted nothing more than to snap my rod over my knee and swim to shore so I could search for something—anything—that would save my friend. But I couldn't, not when Robin was doing this for me.

Even now, she was waiting for me to voluntarily open up to her, no matter how badly my foul mood was fraying her last nerve.

I appreciated her intentions, even though the timing sucked.

Seeing her initial plan wasn't making any headway, Robin chose to make small talk. "Have you heard? The Shepards saved another village from 'bandits'."

Around two years ago, missives were sent to the four corners of Ylisse, detailing Chrom's plan to form his own personal militia that would step in where the regular Ylissean armies could not. The Prince of Ylisse welcomed any and all to try and join, be they commoners or nobles, though only the best of the best would pass their rigorous screening process. Those who did would become Shepards, and traverse the halidom alongside the prince to protect the people and ensure they "weren't lead astray by wolves and snakes."

Reading the message, Laurent became incredibly wistful. His mother and father were Shepards, dying for the sake of the halidom against the Fell Dragon. No doubt the title was provoking memories of old stories he'd heard, likely told by his "Teacher."

Nowi giggled at the name, saying Ylisse must've had way too many sheep if their prince needed to keep them all in line.

Robin kept a copy of the recruitment notice for herself. Although she didn't share her thoughts on it, I saw the interest gleaming in her eyes.

"Plegia's desperation is apparent to all," Laurent scoffed, reeling in his line to see if his bait was still there; it wasn't. "What does the Mad King hope to accomplish by disguising his soldiers as common brigands and commanding them to harass the good people of Ylisse? I cannot help but suspect his judgment."

"Maybe he's bored?" Nowi suggested, whacking the water's surface with her fishing rod. "He must need more friends to play with."

"Would you invite King Gangrel to a friendly session of Duck Duck Dragon?" Laurent asked, skewering another worm on his hook.

"Yeah! Who doesn't love Duck Duck Dragon?"

"The non-dragon participant, I wager."

"Boo! You're just mad you're bad at the game. Sparky wins all the time!"

"Ordinary humans are unable to wrestle an adult dragon into submission with no more than their bare hands."

"They just need practice!"

That was funny to hear from Nowi, seeing how constantly losing to me spurred her into becoming stronger all for the sake of one day beating me at her silly game.

NAME: Nowi, the Lost Dragon

AGE: 1,000+

CLASS: Manakete

LEVEL: 17

EXP: 34 / 100

HIT POINTS: 36 / 36

STRENGTH: 15

MAGIC: 9

SKILL: 12

SPEED: 12

LUCK: 17

DEFENSE: 11

RESISTANCE: 10

STATUS: Happy, Mildly Bored, Hungry

"I'm glad Prince Chrom's doing a wonderful job keeping people safe," Robin said. "It's nice to see the prince of the nation taking an active hand in protecting his people rather than spend all day holed up in his comfy castle."

"Comfy castle," Nowi repeated, dreamily. "Hey, can we get a castle? We can invite all our friends to live with us, and have parties every day!"

"I fear there is a shortage of highly defended châteaus on the market," Laurent replied lightly, casting his line into the sea once more. "And I suspect none were constructed to accommodate a dragon."

"Then we can build one! All together! I want a big place where I can store all my treasure!"

"Did you not recount how you hold little personal value in human currency?"

"Nowi's idea of treasure consists of shiny pebbles, funny looking rocks, and her stash of her own toenail clippings," Robin said.

"Ah." That got a chuckle from Laurent. "I imagine many prospective treasure hunters who intrude upon our hypothetical castle would be quite displeased when they arrive to plunder the dragon's trove."

"If they try to steal my shinnies, I'll burn them all to ashes!" Nowi growled.

Laughter was shared as we all pictured a band of robbers bursting into Nowi's secret den, only to find colored pebbles and someone's toenails before being beset upon by an angry dragon. Even I couldn't resist a small laugh, despite my dour mood.

I was fighting to protect this: this new normality I'd come to treasure more than all the gold in the world. Yet how could I, when I had no way of keeping Robin safe from the damned God of Annihilation?

"Guys?" Robin spoke. "I'm thinking about joining the Shepards."

I head whipped towards her so fast I nearly broke my neck.

"You want to work with sheep?" Nowi asked, still confused on what Chrom's Shepards actually did.

"No, Nowi. I want to help Prince Chrom protect Ylisse," Robin gently chided.

"I confess my surprise," Laurent said, saying what was on my mind in a much more polite way. "Prince Chrom's recruitment pitch was sent out two years ago. Why commit yourself to his cause now?"

"I was interested back then," Robin admitted. "But at the time …" Her gaze flitted my way, however briefly, yet it was all the explanation I needed. She'd been waiting for me, remaining by my side in the hopes I'd finally share my demons with her. Yet her patience could only last her for so long, and it'd ultimately reached the point where she was more willing to move on.

Something in my heart cracked.

"… I guess the timing wasn't right," she continued. "Now that Plegia's blatantly displaying its hostile intentions towards Ylisse, it's only a matter of time before war between the two kingdoms breaks out. Don't deny it, Laurent," she said to our resident time traveler. "One of the first things you asked us about was the Ylisse-Plegia war, so we know it's going to happen."

"The retentiveness of your memory leaves me in awe," was all he could say. "But why the Shepards? You could enlist in the army."

"I could, but serving as common infantry would be a waste of my skill. The quickest and most efficient way to earn merit would be to demonstrate my talents directly to the Prince of Ylisse, which I can do by joining the Shepards."

"But … there's going to be a war," Nowi said sadly. "Like, with lots of people killing each other and everything. Do you really want that?"

"War's inevitable either way, unless we sneak into Plegia again and try to assassinate the Mad King. No, I want to fight."

"Because the enemy is Plegia, kingdom of the Grimleal?" Laurent asked. His time with us helped him understand how much Robin despised the cult.

"Not only that. It's because … I love this kingdom," Robin said sincerely, glancing over at the Ylissean shore and smiling. "The people, the cities, the adventures, the wonders … I love it all. I love this peaceful place Exalt Emmeryn has created, and don't want to see it suffer because of the aspirations of the insane. It's why I'll fight: not to give Plegia the beating it rightfully deserves, but to protect this wonderful land that's given me so much."

We all stared at Robin, each of us moved by her speech in our own ways. I didn't know what was going through Nowi's and Laurent's heads, but my own heart was brimming with an emotion that made my chest light, yet my head heavy.

"Me too!" Nowi suddenly cheered, thrusting her fishing rod into the air as if it were Excalibur. "Ylisse is awesome! There's so many nice people that gave me free food! I want to protect them too!"

"A most noble aspiration," Laurent agreed, readjusting his spectacles. "Allow me to dedicate my expertise to your worthy cause."

"Are you sure?" Robin asked, surprised by his offer. "Don't you have a terrible future to prevent?"

"The singularity of annihilation is near," Laurent confessed. "I know not when, but am certain the time of my companion's arrival draws closer every day. I will be in an opportune position to aid them as a Shepard. Furthermore …"

"Your parents were Shepards," Robin easily deduced, which the time traveler confirmed with a nod. "I get it. Even if it's their younger selves, you've got a chance to see them again. I say go for it."

"I will, thank you."

Then Robin looked over to me, her gaze piercing to the core of my soul. "What about you, Guardian?"

"I … I …" I was tongue-tied. My mind was drawing a blank.

Robin's disappointment was so clear it practically slugged me in the face. "It's okay, I get it. There's something you need to do, something incredibly important to you, and the Guardian of the Halidom isn't known for giving up. You keep at it, and the rest of us will head to Ylisstol."

Nowi and Laurent were shocked by what they heard, even more so when I couldn't muster up a response.

"Are … are you leaving us?" Nowi asked, pleading for me not to. "Are you allergic to sheep? Is that why? I-It'll be okay! I'll eat every furry pest that tries to get near you!"

"Just what have you been searching for with such zeal?" Laurent asked. "Would informing us not aid in your quest?"

"Don't bother, Laurent. You know the Guardian's stubborn in the best and worst ways," Robin said softly. Setting down her fishing rod, she moved forward until she was sitting right next to me. She gently placed a hand over my own white-knuckled fists. "Never take this the wrong way. You're my best friend, Guardian. Always have, always will be. I want to help you, to repay you for everything you've done for me, but I can't if you won't let me."

Her free hand came up to my Keaton Mask, cupping its cheek. She was granting me a final lifeline, reaching out to pull away the shroud of mystery, to let me speak without reservation.

But this mask was one only I could remove.

And my hands refused to budge.

Slowly but surely, Robin's caress fell away, and I felt the resigned dolefulness in her lingering touch, cutting me like a razor's edge.

"Don't be sad," she whispered, leaning into me. I couldn't tell if she was speaking to me her herself. "This isn't goodbye. No matter where we are or what we're doing, there'll always be a bond between us."

Then she kissed me, her lips gently brushing against the surface of my mask.

Getting hit by Anguilla's Mjölnir had been the lesser shock. Everything was going haywire. My palms became sweaty, my heart became a hummingbird, and my chest felt like it'd explode if I breathed any deeper.

"One last adventure!" Robin suddenly declared, forcing her cheerfulness to the forefront as she bound to her feet.

"Adventure?" Nowi repeated.

Laurent was too busy gawking at us, like his mind was trying to process what he'd witnessed. Me too kid, me too.

"I don't want us to part on such a sour note." I don't want us to part at all, were her unsaid words. "So let's celebrate with one last big adventure! I heard from the locals of Southport that there's an island several miles to our south that's home to a strange monolith-like structure no one's been able to identity. Why don't we check it out? Solving mysteries is what we're good at!"

"I-I understand the value of separating on healthy terms," Laurent stammered, trying to straighten his spectacles with his trembling fingers. Instead, it made them vibrate like crazy.

"I don't want to split up," Nowi pouted. "But if we have to, let's have fun with the time we have left!"

With the others casting their vote, there was no way I could say no, so I dumbly nodded my head. I reflexively put my fishing rod into the [Inventory], dragged up our boat's small anchor, and unfurled the sail before taking command of the rudder, steering us southward.

Robin was choosing to take her own path, unable to blindly follow mine anymore. I understood why, and could only appreciate how long she'd already stayed with me. I didn't know if it was fate or destiny at play, but Robin was on the path to meeting Chrom, commencing the game's cannon storyline.

She deserved to know the truth, or at least part of it. It was her memories that were at risk, and keeping her ignorant had been a mistake. She might curse me, hate me, for what I'd chosen to do, and I deserved every bit of obscenity she'd throw my way.

After our last adventure, I'd tell her. Not now, not when the only thing I could think of was her hurt expression as she leaned towards me and kissed my …

I shook my head, my face feeling hot beneath my Keaton Mask.

Desperate for a distraction, I asked, "What's the name of this structure we're investigating?"

"The locals have a lot of different names for it," Robin answered, "but the most common one is the Outrealm Gate."

~Current Stats~

NAME: ???

AGE: 26­ (+3)

CLASS: ???

LEVEL: 19­ (+1)

EXP: 95 / 100

HIT POINTS: 52 / 52­ (+2)

STRENGTH: [25]

MAGIC: 22­ (+1)

SKILL: [24]

SPEED: [24]

LUCK: 0

DEFENSE: 21­ (+1)

RESISTANCE: [24]

~Current Skills~

PERSONAL SĶ̴̈́I̷͚̊L̷̠̍L 1: Projectio̵͎͝n, Trace̵̛̯ Versī̶̜on

PERS̶̹̓Ȏ̸̠N̴̛̩AL SKILL 2: Invento̴̟͝ȑ̸͜y of the Wild H̷̩͕͑̃ệ̷͘r̷̯͎͊̀̕o̵̡̺͐͜

P̷͉̲̍̎͌̀͝E̴̢͔͋R̸̞̬͐̐͘S̵̰̹͙͗̄̈̃O̵̢̧̭̼̙̔̊̽N̸͔̯͕̲̮͒̃͝Ȧ̸̡͕͖͝Ļ̸̢͔͉̖͊̎̐̋̃ ̴̧͇̙̬̬̜͌̈́̏͊̑̐S̴̡̧̘̟̏K̶̢͈̘͐I̸̢̹͙͌̓̆Ĺ̸̢̲͇̂L̴͍̙̠̖̜̞̔̊̽ ̶̢̦̟̿3̴͖́̉̄̀: [̷̧̧̠͇̤̞̫̯͍͙̼͔͐̈́̽͂̒̍̊͗̓͒̿́͊͛͐̽́̇̽̽̌̆͘͝E̵̢̨̨̛͉̻͈̗̞̮͔͉̳͎͎̩̖̗̟͖̝̫͇̭̋̈́̈̆͑̌̈́̀̌̄̈̓̋̔̌̃̂͒̓́̊͑̀̓̔͆̚̕͠R̷̢̘̳͉͙̟͎̥̹͑̏͊͂̾̅̌̋͑̓̐̌̆͒̐́̚̚̕͝Ȓ̴̡̨̧̢̧̡̥̰̤͓͎͉̳̗͇͎̺̻͉̳̩͎͈͕͈̬̜͙̖̺̙̪͠Ǫ̶̛̠͙̥̜͍̦͖̣̪̦̮̫̗͍̰̺̭̲̟̺͇͍͔͖̣͗͗̍̒̔͛͌̑̿̄͒̒̒͐̅́̋̉̑͂͐̽͋̓͘͘̚͜͝͝R̵̩̀̈́̐͂̆́̄͛̎͗̊͋̀̍̾̓̏̈͘̕͠]̶̨̢̢̛͈̻̰̠̠͈̥̑̉͑̈̊͒̊̄̉̂̈́̏̅̉́̃̇̅͋̽͘͘͘͝

S̷͔͕̞͉͒̑̓͒̍̄͜K̸̮̅̀I̴͉̣͚̿Ḷ̴̢͍̱͂Ḷ̶̡̛̗̩̘̤͋̌͘͝ 1: Tö̵̧̱́ỏ̷̻̘̈́͂ Angȓ̶̤̓͌͑̽͝y T̴͉̀o D̸̦̑i̶̫̋e!

SKI̴̲̎LL 2̶̙͑: Reinfo̵͚͠r̴͙͋c̷̐ͅè̴͈ment

SKILL 3: Poison̸̻͐ Imm̶̩͒ǔ̶̙n̵͎̎ity

S̷̢͋K̸͉͂ILL 4: N/A

SKILL 5: N̴̮̈́/̶̛̣Á̴̖