He was in a rather terrible dilemma.

At the moment, he was barely keeping the dark side away.

He needed to feast on the flesh of Abominations or else, he would reveal himself.

And since he had no idea if Lyon's gaze was still upon him, he absolutely had to figure out a way to get his Ein Sof without turning into a monster, sinking his teeth into corrupted flesh.

He sighed and shook his head,

'I'll think about it later. There's still some time.'

He couldn't help but think about the mission.

He had until dusk tomorrow, which gave him a little less than a full day to complete the hunt and return to Liedenstorm.

It would be difficult.

However, he didn't believe it was impossible.

Nero pulled the crumpled parchment from his shirt and studied the sketch in the dim light filtering in from outside. The creature's anatomy was strange, with the four arms arranged in a way that suggested it could move on all limbs or stand upright depending on need. The single bulbous eye dominated its head, and the description noted that it could see in complete darkness. The fangs jutting from its limbs and spine were described as hollow, possibly for injecting venom or digestive fluids.

He committed the details to memory, then carefully folded the parchment and tucked it back into his shirt.

Sleep would not come easily, but he needed rest. Tomorrow would bring enough challenges that exhaustion could not be one of them. Nero shifted position, finding a spot where the stone did not dig into his back quite as sharply, and then he closed his eyes.

The darkness outside remained absolute and silent. The forest waited with the patience of something that had devoured thousands before him and would devour thousands after. But for now, in this small hollow beneath cold stone, Nero was safe enough.

He drifted into a light sleep, one hand resting on the spear shaft, ready to wake at the slightest sound.

***

Nero woke to darkness.

Slowly, he rose.

He had only slept about an hour. And yet, he felt completely refreshed, even with the less than ideal sleeping conditions.

He looked out the hollow entrance. Frost had formed on the moss outside, creating delicate crystalline patterns that caught the dawn light.

He ate another strip of dried meat and drank sparingly from the waterskin.

The forest outside still showed no signs of movement. The absolute silence continued, broken only by the occasional creak of branches settling in the cold. Nero waited, watching the entrance a little longer with narrowed eyes.

In the end, he decided to wait a bit more before continuing his journey. There was something he needed to do first, something he had been putting off for too long.

He settled into a seated position with his back against stone and his spear across his lap. He closed his eyes and reached inward, finding that familiar void space where the Oracle existed.

The cold forest vanished, replaced by absolute emptiness. Absolute nothingness everywhere and nowhere still.

The Oracle's presence pressed against his consciousness, vast, cold and utterly inhuman.

Nero huffed deeply. He took a moment to compile his thoughts. After all, he only had one chance to ask his questions.

Then he spoke into the emptiness,

"Should I become a Templar?"

The question hung in the void for a long moment. Then the Oracle's response came, filling the space with words that were not quite sound.

{The Heretic's decisions cannot be influenced by the Oracle. The light that guides his path is fate and destiny. Whatever will be, already is}.

Nero frowned.

That answer... was not what he expected. Granted, he knew better than to expect a straightforward answer. Still, he felt a flash of annoyance but pushed it aside.

He moved to his second question, the one that had been weighing on him for weeks.

He hesitated for a moment then decided to come out with it,

"What has become of Aisha, Geor, and Lucy?"

{Your old companions live}.

Relief flooded through Nero with such intensity that it made his chest tighten. He had suspected as much, but confirmation brought something he had not felt in weeks.

Was it joy? Peace? Perhaps, it was...

Although he didn't know how it was possible, the fact was they were alive. He had not asked sooner because of a nagging suspicion that making that inquiry specifically within the Red House itself was dangerous. It was probably just paranoia, but paranoia had kept him alive this long.

He allowed himself a moment to savor the knowledge before moving to his third and final question.

"Tell me about the Abomination I am hunting. Everything you can."

The Oracle was silent for several seconds. Then it spoke,

{The Abomination the Heretic is to hunt is titled the Vile Eye of the Wicked King}.

Nero's eyes snapped open in the void. That was not the name Lyon had given him.

"Why do you call it that? The description I have says it is a Brybernos Taintbrute."

{The beast is indeed a Brybernos Taintbrute. However, it has recently undergone a change. The old Taintbrute was killed in a battle recently. But its body has been possessed by an ancient soul whose nature cannot be discerned. It is paramount that the Heretic proceeds with caution, as the Taintbrute may now possess new abilities and a corrupted nature much different from the old}.

The void seemed to grow colder. Nero felt his heartbeat accelerate despite there being no physical body in this space to experience such things.

Lyon had sent him after something that was no longer what the intelligence described. The doctor either did not know about the possession, or he had deliberately withheld the information.

Neither possibility was comforting.

"What abilities does it have now?" Nero asked quickly, trying to extract more information.

{The third question has been answered, Heretic}.

Nero clicked his tongue and cursed,

"Damn it! I should have just—!"

The void collapsed. Nero gasped as his consciousness snapped back into his body.

He sat there for a moment, processing what he had learned. An ancient soul possessing the corpse of a Grade C Abomination? New abilities? Unknown nature?

All that smelled of ruin and dark omens...

Nero reached into his shirt and pulled out the Wandering Spirit's Journal. He opened it carefully, the pages crackling slightly in the cold air.

The journal was a prophetic relic, capable of revealing information about threats and dangers. It had warned him before about the purge and everyone dying. Perhaps it would provide insight into what he was actually facing now.

He held the book open and waited. The pages remained blank for several seconds. Then, slowly, words began to appear, written in flowing script that seemed to bleed up from the paper itself.

"The Vile Eye sees all lies and devours all truth. What once was is now none. What was beast is now kingdom. The Wicked King sits upon his throne of flesh and waits in the silence."

"Beware the gaze that strips away pretense, woe to he that sees..."

"Beware the arms that once served a greater master, woe to the burdened..."

"Beware the hunger that cannot be satiated by flesh, woe to the spirit..."

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