1

The boy laid curled up on his side, in the grass as far as he knew, his fatigue tied him to the ground but the relief was loosening his chest. Every time he was turned loose he'd have some sort of new injury, as of yet, he didn't know what that was. Drawing in a long breath and feeling finally rested, he opened his eyes and sat up slowly. What a night it had been! What a flight it had been! Why was it, exactly that there were replicas they sent out to survive by means of the earth? Why was he one of them?

He hugged his knees and cried, he needed it, just a few tears from the shock. The last he could remember before they had sent him out to run for his life was a sharp, pulsing pain in his neck and arms from some poison they had put in his body to slowly make him immune to it. It had happened like that several times, they'd find him, catch him, bring him back, poison him, then send him out as if he were escaping but they could always find him again. He always had a feeling that when they had first collected him, they put some sort of chip in his body to track him where ever he went. Experimental, that's what he was.

Drying his tears he reached to his few belongings to continue on his flight to get as far away from them as he could. The arm he reached with was his left, and on that arm there was tattooed in his forearm a long number and his name, Khaloezuram. He couldn't read but was recognized it as his name and would never forget the number written there. They called him Khalo, but he didn't care much for the name. Also on his left arm he kept tied a leather band above his elbow, it represented something to him, he knew that much but several collections ago he had forgotten what it was for due to one of the various experiments, nevertheless he kept it on his arm at all times. Both traits the tattoo and the band were not what he suddenly found strange about his arm but gazing there stunned for a few moments he saw that several veins down his elbow to mid forearm were swollen and dark. He grimaced to himself knowing it was a reaction to some poison put in his body that he hadn't noticed on his flight.

Continuing to take what he had reached for, nevertheless, he did so and placed the two arm guards over his forearms hiding the tattoo on his left arm. Proceeding to stand up he took to his weapons which he had laid close to him the last night so he could sleep in readiness. Setting them over his back in a holster strap accompanying his belt, he continued walking, he had with him all his belonging, the clothes on his back, the guards on his arms, his two weapons a sword and a staff, and the leather band. He sighed, trying to remember how many times he had come out like this, every few weeks at the least, years went by too slowly to him.

The wind was strong as he walked out in the open, he could see where they were miles behind him but he was both too fast and too strong for them to catch him now, in oncoming light of morning. In addition he had just come out, so he had several weeks before they'd come after him again, he was sure right now there were just watching him to see what he would do. The wind blew his gray hair around him, of what he could remember it had been one of the experiments from earlier in his life that had turned it gray and the tips of his bangs were cyan, though no matter how hard he tried to remember he could see why they were so. Likewise were his eyes lacking in color and he often over heard them referring to his eyes as macro blue but he didn't know what that meant.

Khalo often remembered seeing others who never left with their heads shaved and in clean well covering clothes, but why was he different, his gray hair was to his shoulders and they rarely cut it when he was collected, while he was there he was dressed into the clean clothes but when he was put to flight he'd be forced to take up his make-shift clothing again. During the collections he'd be surrounded in a flash by strange machines and vehicles never found out in this world, he'd try to get away but they'd seize him violently and put him into the vehicles with hundreds of others crammed tightly. He'd follow into a large room where the air was filled with a drug to make him passive as they were divided into lines, divided by traits like gender, physical appearance, and previous experiments that he had endured. He'd quickly and torturously be cleaned and dressed plainly then sent to the ones who he defined as very "needle savvy". Once he was put out he'd never know what exactly happened and he'd find himself a few moments to collect his belongings and run from there with all his might, they'd chase him but never catch him, though he had a feeling it was set up to be like that.

Sometimes Khalo thought that if he got too far from them they'd come to collect him sometimes he thought it was scheduled and that he could count out the days, but he never could. He couldn't read but he could count, that much was necessary for his skill in this world. He didn't know why he always found his weapons with his belongings before he'd run, it was like they were returning them after having taken them, like everything was a test. He knew that the further he went the longer it took for them to collect him so he was determined to get further from them each time. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get away, and this time he didn't want to go back.

He felt at his waist where his make-shift tunic folded over itself and was held back by his belt and was relieved to feel that the small, hand sewn pocket still held the six disks of copper. They weren't pennies, they weren't even stamped to be coins they were just metal hammered flat by another replica in one of the colonies dotting the landscape. For now that was where he was going, to one of the colonies in order to get some food and earn more of the copper disks.

Suddenly he felt a pang approximately over his left lung and stumbled, it was definitely the poison taking some effect on him. Replicas didn't have medicine only their creators had it and treated them where needed at each collection. His left side felt pressed in and his neck felt closed up restricting his breathing. Instinctively he raised his hand to his neck fighting to breathe when he felt another swollen vein on his neck to left side seemingly over his heart, it was a jugular vein so he knew it might cause many complications. What were they trying to do this time? They certainly wouldn't let him die that much he was sure of from past experiences.

Shaking of the pain he was feeling he continued and broke into a swift run across the hills. Running felt good to him, since he so often found himself doing it, and the faster he went the more secure he felt. As his left arm flew in front of him again seeing the bands tied on it he remember why he had them, not who had given them to him just why, so that he would know how to find that person. He had a very bad memory, he knew that for sure, there were so many dark areas in his life that he simply could not remember the band was a forget-me-not to make sure he could find his way. After traveling like this for about a mile and still not breathing too terribly hard besides the poisoned pain which was prevalent, he stopped abruptly and stared pensively at his surroundings.
The sun had barely risen so things around him were still vague but he knew it when he saw it, he was surrounded by Alters. He himself was an Alter but his body was small from all the experiments endured, these Alters were much larger than him and instinctively he took his staff from its placement on his back, "What's this then? A gathering," he said spitefully.

The light was so dim he could see the Alters well but he could tell they glared at him for how he had inquired, "What you doing here this early? The collection doesn't let out until the sun's on your head,"

Khalo brandished his staff pointing it so the blade was low and facing up, "you've got no business knowing!" he insisted and tried to continue past them.

Finally the tallest of what he could now make out was five Alters stood in front of him. The tall Alter took hold of his tunic and yanked him closer, "how did you get out!?" being now close to the Alter, Khalo was able to see that the Alter was female.

Khalo violently raised the staff bashing the Alter in the jaw and hurrying out of her grip. The Alter groaned and growled as her effects from the experimentation were revealed as the dawn met the horizon, "oh, you're gonna pay for that!" she said as the long cut across his face from the blade healed itself in a few seconds. The skin flustered and lapped over itself forming a hideous crease across her face added to others.

Khalo shuddered at the sight but held his staff firmer, "I don't want to fight you I just was to get to 9-A colony!" he demanded as one of the replicas came upon him and he bashed his shoulder firmly knocking out his breath. Khalo tensed, this replica was also female. He didn't want to fight but his actions said otherwise.

The Alter laughed a bit as the replica fell, "you hear that!" she addressed the rest of them, "he works with metals! And he's got friends in 9-A. Us!" she laughed as if it all made sense to her and Khalo was left in the dark.

Growling deep in his throat, Khalo became aware that the large sword on his back explained much of that, he had made it himself and it took him quite a long time to, that skill was valuable out here, more so than copper disks. The light was becoming more bright now and he was able to see more clearly but he did not falter in any way.

"Khalo?" someone from behind him said and he whirled around to meet eyes with the other Alter. He also had gray hair and pale blue eyes, he appeared much younger and healthier, but in the whole incredibly similar to Khalo. Readying the staff, Khalo gazed coldly at the Alter who knew his name. The Alter came closer to him very slowly, "Khalo, it's me, don't you remember, Dmitri,"

Khalo narrowed his eyes, "I've never seen you before in my life!" he insisted harshly.
The Alter claiming to be Dmitri gestured to Khalo's left arm, "but those bands, that's how I recognized you, the bands on your left arm, you were right, they would work to help you remember!" he continued hopefully.

Sighing deeply Khalo was hesitant to let go of his guard, "my memory never works properly for me," he said softly, "so you're the one these bands are supposed to point me to," he pulled on them a little, brandishing them as his own. "Are these your friends?" he asked raising his voice. Dmitri nodded hesitantly. Khalo didn't actually believe Dmitri had been the one who gave him the bands but he allowed himself a small level of trust and lowered his staff before swinging it up abruptly into the holster on his back.

The flame encrusted sunrise lit the world at their left sides as Khalo was looked over my Dmitri, who gazed oddly for several moments longer at the enlarged veins on his arm and neck. He made sure the bands were tied properly as if there was a proper way to do it, and with slightly hesitant permission he took off the left arm guard to both see the extent of the swollen vein and the tattoo on his arm as if to make sure it was him. Khalo noticed similarly that Dmitri also had the tattoo on his arm, now Khalo never forgot the number written in his arm nor any other numbers he read on others but Dmitri's number was indeed familiar but he hid his remembrance of it.

There was another pulsing pang mostly in his head making him suddenly dizzy and kneeling down on the ground but he tried to hide that too. If he knew one thing, it was that the poison in his body as not being taken very well this time like it had in the past. He breathed heavily containing himself with care in his movements the standing up and looking Dmitri deeply into his eyes he demanded, "I'm going to 9-A, and you!" and continued walking to the south.

The tall Alter stood in front of him, "you talk pretty highly for an Alter with no memory," she threatened as everything became seeming familiar now.

Sighing almost accepting of the threat, Khalo drew out his staff again, "at some point all of us lose a part of ourselves," he whispered, "Now tell me who are you?" he demanded seeing how incredibly strong this Alter was even being female.

"Khalo!" Dmitri pleaded.

The tall female Alter smirked, "Hawthorne," she muttered with pride and distain. She had weapon holsters all over her body, on her back, within the flaps of her vest, on her belt, on her thighs, and in her boots. She wore her long gray hair tied up—Khalo noted that like him she also had gray hair—in a flawless pony tail high on her head like a crown swinging around as she walked. On her right eye she wore an eye patch while the left was also scarred and lacked beauty in its sad black color. She had a tight, black, body suit, it was seamless so Khalo knew she must've worked very hard to get it. Over her body suit she wore her vest with many holsters and pockets sewn into it, it wasn't much but it was sturdy. At her waist she wore a tick leather belt, unlike Khalo's which was rope and burlap, to it was strung more holsters and a fine fabric, white cape, stained to the weathered condition. Her legs were girded with two holsters armor from her thighs to her knees, and heavy leather boots, thick and armor-like protecting her shins and feet. Khalo envied those boots, his were thin leather and were not strong enough to be like armor.

Khalo couldn't help but note how well girded she was and how feminine her figure was, despite what scars she had. She was thin and nimble in the waist, and her arms and legs were strong, but her chest was tightened by her body suit making Khalo's thoughts stray to what she must look like when she was relaxed. She was very beautiful to him, strong, levelheaded, and elegant in all her ways. Quickly Khalo dismissed it, "you said 'us' does that mean you're also from 9-A?"

Hawthorne grimaced a little as they walked, in one swift movement she drew a dagger from her boot and slashed it at Khalo, in the same moment Khalo drew his sword to meet it. Hawthorne grinned falsely, brandishing the knife she pressed harder, "does it look like it?" she asked in return.

Khalo knew this statement it meant she wanted him to see for himself, his eyes drifted to the dagger. The blade was folded he could tell by looking at it, it was curved and sharp, "you made it?" he asked, Hawthorne affirmed. Khalo grimaced it must've taken her forever to fold it even if it was only a dagger, what she had attempted was a dagger as strong as a katana. "How many folds?" he asked again proving his knowledge of it since it was among the few things he never forgot.

Hawthorne recoiled and broke away sheathing the blade, "eight hundred," she said softly.

Khalo smirked a little, "so few?" he set his sword back in its holster, he had felt her strength and he now knew she had little to hold up against him especially with the weight of his sword. Khalo reached up and took out his staff again, the small blade on the side was no more than five inches long, "See this," he held up the blade to her, "two thousand folds, and even that is very few! It takes four thousands to make a good katana, and eight thousand to make a incomparable one,"

"Khalo," Dmitri said again. Khalo turned to him, "look around you. The sun has risen so you can see, we're all from 9-A," Dmitri kicked a rock off a boulder then jumped off it followed by the others. As Dmitri recovered from the short fall they began working their way up a long hill, "what happened to you, Khalo?" Dmitri asked receiving no answer. "Khalo!" Dmitri pleaded again now in desperation, "what about those things you said? All the things about leaving this place and finding our originals in the real world, all your ideas about the real world, those things you said you had seen, they all meant nothing? What has changed in you?" he begged as tears suddenly streamed down his face.

Tensing Khalo stared painfully at Dmitri's tears, seeing the tears pained Khalo in his heart, "I don't know!" Khalo whispered in a firm voice to hide his trembling, "I can't remember…"

Dmitri gazed deeply into his eyes, "what about that we were somehow tied as one person like you said about your visions! We are one person!" to prove himself Dmitri then rushed forward to a spring on the ground in the hill, the water was what he was heading for. Touching his hand to the water as it trickled down the hillside he manipulated it raising the stream into the air and around them, "We can both do this, you taught it to me," he brought the water into a ball and stretched it around in the air before he absorbed it into his own hands.

Khalo seemed a bit stunned by the inhumanity of Dmitri's actions but even more so by the stance Dmitri then took up. Dmitri bent his knees lowering himself to the ground, his arms were arched and his form seemed to waver like ripples in water. His arms flailed in circular movement then abruptly they flowed forth with water reacting a lens before him which Khalo could see through. For a moment Khalo thought it was a mirror as the person he saw through the water was not Dmitri but himself then as he looked closer he saw that it was negated.

Khalo knew he had gray hair with cyan blue stands but the person he saw staring back at him was not himself but his complete negation. Black hair, dark red strands and eyes like crimson coals. The vision vanished abruptly and Dmitri collapsed, Khalo stood absolutely stunned, what he had seen scared him, this meant that Dmitri had some sort of connection to someone else who was their exact negation. Before he could react to what he had seen he reacted to Dmitri as his small form rolled down the hill those several paces back where he came.

Stopping his fall Khalo saw that Dmitri was breathing hard, "it takes a lot of energy to do that, but you're stronger than my I know you can do it better than I can," Dmitri breathed, slowly he tried to stand up but quickly fell again to be stopped by Khalo. It took a while, but Dmitri's strength eventually did return and they continued up the steep hill. As they did Khalo began to become aware of the other four travelers with them. Hawthorne was seemingly the head of the group and Dmitri was only a tag-a-long, as was Khalo at this point, but the others all seemed to have a story of their own by their appearance.

It seemed odd to Khalo, besides Dmitri and himself, all Alters in the group were girls. Strange looking girls at that. The one closest behind Hawthorne was a blond girl whose name—as he eventually found out—was Enimsaj, he silently noted what a strange name it was but he noted his own name was a bit strange as it was. Her eyes were like Khalo's lacking in color except a faint blue but she seemed very uneasy and her eyes were dark as if from lack of sleep or a lot of recent crying. She wasn't that much different from Khalo himself, needing a few tears once in a while. Enimsaj wore a light blue head band, likely another forget-me-not, it looked as if it was three pieces of quality woven fabric sewn together into a strap tied across her forehead. Her blond hair was not as well kept as Hawthorne. She was dressed in a make shift dress, with wrapped black sleeves on her arms, legs, and high on her neck, this black under clothing also had a hood which she currently wore over her head hiding all her skin except on her face and hands. Her feet her shod in worn boots and the only weapon visible was around her waist on a rope belt in a small, well decorated sheath. Her dagger had also been forged by Hawthorne but it was meager and did poorly to defend herself, it was probably why she had Hawthorne were so close.

The next one that caught Khalo's eyes was who he later found out to be Rynthkhyaliem. Rynth, as was her nickname, or Runt, wore a light, white dress, showing much skin on her arms, legs, and neck, but that only locked Khalo's eyes on her more fastidiously. She didn't seem to have any weapons but to find out for sure Khalo struck at her with a weapon of his own and she abruptly used something to send him away. Rynth was energetic, and for more reasons than apt, she had some ability to store energy reserves in her body then summon them and fire them at will, this had been what she used to deflect Khalo's blow so effortlessly. Her eyes were sapphire blue and her hair, held back by flowers behind her ears and several decorative barrettes, was black, unlike all the others with light nearly colorless hair, it was strange to Khalo, most replicas had light or gray hair but this one had black hair, it didn't bother him but it struck him as strange.

Finally the last two in the group, Khalo had to overlook the two of them at the same time because of how alike they looked. The twins, Posman and Negara, Khalo laughed a bit by their names, Positive and Negative, they both had pink hair and eyes, their ragged and short hair wasn't tied back in the slightest way unlike to all the other's even Khalo. Dmitri tight his hair back in a ponytail not unlike to Hawthorne's, but it was shorter and barely stayed. Both were clad in the black body suits, but Neg wore a short, frilly punk-goth-looking dress involving netting and expensive fabrics that were incredibly hard to make from what he knew. Pos—and Khalo quickly found he was mistaken by the pink hair—was male, and wore little more than the black body suit other than clad boots—again Khalo envied—a tie, and a sharp, personally crafted scimitar, holstered in a sheath on the back of his belt. It was a flexible attire though it confused Khalo. Neg also carried a weapon but the face she carried with it was what made it potent; evil, cringed, pleasurable, these were her faces as she brandished the blade of a death scythe.

Khalo breathed in deeply, his breath had quickened from climbing this hill, he found himself looking over his own appearance after having looked over everyone else. His boots were worn and falling apart but they had served him this long they could survive a bit longer, if he could get some more copper he could pay for new ones but not here in the middle of nowhere. He wore black, wrapped leggings, warm cotton breaches, a dark brown make-shift tunic secured by a belt and a shoulder belt for his one weapon holster containing his two weapons a large, sharp, weighty, two-edged sword, and a sturdy staff with the small folded blade on the end. For some reason his bangs always fell to one side so he had them ties back with two hair bands but he didn't mind having the rest of his hair on his neck. His two arm guards were the only things he had to protect him, those and his two weapons.

Things must have been changing for the others as well, Khalo felt a lot of significance as they reached the top of the hill. "Khalo, look," Dmitri urged, taking Khalo by the wrist. They ran over the peak of the long trek up and stopped at the top while the other's followed at a slower pace. Before them laid a widely stretched camp, without buildings, and little structures of tents, smoke rose from every one of the few tents and many small forms wandered the dusty paths between tents. This was the ninth colony in this world, there were two sections of this colony simply called A and B. The residents of A were metal workers who were all skilled in making weapons and utensils over various kinds. The residents of B on the other hand, worked with cotton, leather, straw, and anything that could be used for fabric or rope. Both were very prestigious colonies because of their produce for the world lacking in everything.

Dmitri smiled brightly but Khalo could only stare forward over the colony, "We're here," he whispered. Picking up his feet he began walking down into the valley where the colony lied, "9-A," he whispered. The others began to follow him now, he had nowhere in this world, everything he had was on his back, but somehow his heart felt drawn, his purpose was being revealed. He was an Alter, he had a purpose, and this journey, a journey past 9-A was his goal, to leave this world and find his original. 9-A was the first step, 9-A was special to him, 9-A is—"My home!"1

The boy laid curled up on his side, in the grass as far as he knew, his fatigue tied him to the ground but the relief was loosening his chest. Every time he was turned loose he'd have some sort of new injury, as of yet, he didn't know what that was. Drawing in a long breath and feeling finally rested, he opened his eyes and sat up slowly. What a night it had been! What a flight it had been! Why was it, exactly that there were replicas they sent out to survive by means of the earth? Why was he one of them?

He hugged his knees and cried, he needed it, just a few tears from the shock. The last he could remember before they had sent him out to run for his life was a sharp, pulsing pain in his neck and arms from some poison they had put in his body to slowly make him immune to it. It had happened like that several times, they'd find him, catch him, bring him back, poison him, then send him out as if he were escaping but they could always find him again. He always had a feeling that when they had first collected him, they put some sort of chip in his body to track him where ever he went. Experimental, that's what he was.

Drying his tears he reached to his few belongings to continue on his flight to get as far away from them as he could. The arm he reached with was his left, and on that arm there was tattooed in his forearm a long number and his name, Khaloezuram. He couldn't read but was recognized it as his name and would never forget the number written there. They called him Khalo, but he didn't care much for the name. Also on his left arm he kept tied a leather band above his elbow, it represented something to him, he knew that much but several collections ago he had forgotten what it was for due to one of the various experiments, nevertheless he kept it on his arm at all times. Both traits the tattoo and the band were not what he suddenly found strange about his arm but gazing there stunned for a few moments he saw that several veins down his elbow to mid forearm were swollen and dark. He grimaced to himself knowing it was a reaction to some poison put in his body that he hadn't noticed on his flight.

Continuing to take what he had reached for, nevertheless, he did so and placed the two arm guards over his forearms hiding the tattoo on his left arm. Proceeding to stand up he took to his weapons which he had laid close to him the last night so he could sleep in readiness. Setting them over his back in a holster strap accompanying his belt, he continued walking, he had with him all his belonging, the clothes on his back, the guards on his arms, his two weapons a sword and a staff, and the leather band. He sighed, trying to remember how many times he had come out like this, every few weeks at the least, years went by too slowly to him.

The wind was strong as he walked out in the open, he could see where they were miles behind him but he was both too fast and too strong for them to catch him now, in oncoming light of morning. In addition he had just come out, so he had several weeks before they'd come after him again, he was sure right now there were just watching him to see what he would do. The wind blew his gray hair around him, of what he could remember it had been one of the experiments from earlier in his life that had turned it gray and the tips of his bangs were cyan, though no matter how hard he tried to remember he could see why they were so. Likewise were his eyes lacking in color and he often over heard them referring to his eyes as macro blue but he didn't know what that meant.

Khalo often remembered seeing others who never left with their heads shaved and in clean well covering clothes, but why was he different, his gray hair was to his shoulders and they rarely cut it when he was collected, while he was there he was dressed into the clean clothes but when he was put to flight he'd be forced to take up his make-shift clothing again. During the collections he'd be surrounded in a flash by strange machines and vehicles never found out in this world, he'd try to get away but they'd seize him violently and put him into the vehicles with hundreds of others crammed tightly. He'd follow into a large room where the air was filled with a drug to make him passive as they were divided into lines, divided by traits like gender, physical appearance, and previous experiments that he had endured. He'd quickly and torturously be cleaned and dressed plainly then sent to the ones who he defined as very "needle savvy". Once he was put out he'd never know what exactly happened and he'd find himself a few moments to collect his belongings and run from there with all his might, they'd chase him but never catch him, though he had a feeling it was set up to be like that.

Sometimes Khalo thought that if he got too far from them they'd come to collect him sometimes he thought it was scheduled and that he could count out the days, but he never could. He couldn't read but he could count, that much was necessary for his skill in this world. He didn't know why he always found his weapons with his belongings before he'd run, it was like they were returning them after having taken them, like everything was a test. He knew that the further he went the longer it took for them to collect him so he was determined to get further from them each time. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get away, and this time he didn't want to go back.

He felt at his waist where his make-shift tunic folded over itself and was held back by his belt and was relieved to feel that the small, hand sewn pocket still held the six disks of copper. They weren't pennies, they weren't even stamped to be coins they were just metal hammered flat by another replica in one of the colonies dotting the landscape. For now that was where he was going, to one of the colonies in order to get some food and earn more of the copper disks.

Suddenly he felt a pang approximately over his left lung and stumbled, it was definitely the poison taking some effect on him. Replicas didn't have medicine only their creators had it and treated them where needed at each collection. His left side felt pressed in and his neck felt closed up restricting his breathing. Instinctively he raised his hand to his neck fighting to breathe when he felt another swollen vein on his neck to left side seemingly over his heart, it was a jugular vein so he knew it might cause many complications. What were they trying to do this time? They certainly wouldn't let him die that much he was sure of from past experiences.

Shaking of the pain he was feeling he continued and broke into a swift run across the hills. Running felt good to him, since he so often found himself doing it, and the faster he went the more secure he felt. As his left arm flew in front of him again seeing the bands tied on it he remember why he had them, not who had given them to him just why, so that he would know how to find that person. He had a very bad memory, he knew that for sure, there were so many dark areas in his life that he simply could not remember the band was a forget-me-not to make sure he could find his way. After traveling like this for about a mile and still not breathing too terribly hard besides the poisoned pain which was prevalent, he stopped abruptly and stared pensively at his surroundings.
The sun had barely risen so things around him were still vague but he knew it when he saw it, he was surrounded by Alters. He himself was an Alter but his body was small from all the experiments endured, these Alters were much larger than him and instinctively he took his staff from its placement on his back, "What's this then? A gathering," he said spitefully.

The light was so dim he could see the Alters well but he could tell they glared at him for how he had inquired, "What you doing here this early? The collection doesn't let out until the sun's on your head,"

Khalo brandished his staff pointing it so the blade was low and facing up, "you've got no business knowing!" he insisted and tried to continue past them.

Finally the tallest of what he could now make out was five Alters stood in front of him. The tall Alter took hold of his tunic and yanked him closer, "how did you get out!?" being now close to the Alter, Khalo was able to see that the Alter was female.

Khalo violently raised the staff bashing the Alter in the jaw and hurrying out of her grip. The Alter groaned and growled as her effects from the experimentation were revealed as the dawn met the horizon, "oh, you're gonna pay for that!" she said as the long cut across his face from the blade healed itself in a few seconds. The skin flustered and lapped over itself forming a hideous crease across her face added to others.

Khalo shuddered at the sight but held his staff firmer, "I don't want to fight you I just was to get to 9-A colony!" he demanded as one of the replicas came upon him and he bashed his shoulder firmly knocking out his breath. Khalo tensed, this replica was also female. He didn't want to fight but his actions said otherwise.

The Alter laughed a bit as the replica fell, "you hear that!" she addressed the rest of them, "he works with metals! And he's got friends in 9-A. Us!" she laughed as if it all made sense to her and Khalo was left in the dark.

Growling deep in his throat, Khalo became aware that the large sword on his back explained much of that, he had made it himself and it took him quite a long time to, that skill was valuable out here, more so than copper disks. The light was becoming more bright now and he was able to see more clearly but he did not falter in any way.

"Khalo?" someone from behind him said and he whirled around to meet eyes with the other Alter. He also had gray hair and pale blue eyes, he appeared much younger and healthier, but in the whole incredibly similar to Khalo. Readying the staff, Khalo gazed coldly at the Alter who knew his name. The Alter came closer to him very slowly, "Khalo, it's me, don't you remember, Dmitri,"

Khalo narrowed his eyes, "I've never seen you before in my life!" he insisted harshly.
The Alter claiming to be Dmitri gestured to Khalo's left arm, "but those bands, that's how I recognized you, the bands on your left arm, you were right, they would work to help you remember!" he continued hopefully.

Sighing deeply Khalo was hesitant to let go of his guard, "my memory never works properly for me," he said softly, "so you're the one these bands are supposed to point me to," he pulled on them a little, brandishing them as his own. "Are these your friends?" he asked raising his voice. Dmitri nodded hesitantly. Khalo didn't actually believe Dmitri had been the one who gave him the bands but he allowed himself a small level of trust and lowered his staff before swinging it up abruptly into the holster on his back.

The flame encrusted sunrise lit the world at their left sides as Khalo was looked over my Dmitri, who gazed oddly for several moments longer at the enlarged veins on his arm and neck. He made sure the bands were tied properly as if there was a proper way to do it, and with slightly hesitant permission he took off the left arm guard to both see the extent of the swollen vein and the tattoo on his arm as if to make sure it was him. Khalo noticed similarly that Dmitri also had the tattoo on his arm, now Khalo never forgot the number written in his arm nor any other numbers he read on others but Dmitri's number was indeed familiar but he hid his remembrance of it.

There was another pulsing pang mostly in his head making him suddenly dizzy and kneeling down on the ground but he tried to hide that too. If he knew one thing, it was that the poison in his body as not being taken very well this time like it had in the past. He breathed heavily containing himself with care in his movements the standing up and looking Dmitri deeply into his eyes he demanded, "I'm going to 9-A, and you!" and continued walking to the south.

The tall Alter stood in front of him, "you talk pretty highly for an Alter with no memory," she threatened as everything became seeming familiar now.

Sighing almost accepting of the threat, Khalo drew out his staff again, "at some point all of us lose a part of ourselves," he whispered, "Now tell me who are you?" he demanded seeing how incredibly strong this Alter was even being female.

"Khalo!" Dmitri pleaded.

The tall female Alter smirked, "Hawthorne," she muttered with pride and distain. She had weapon holsters all over her body, on her back, within the flaps of her vest, on her belt, on her thighs, and in her boots. She wore her long gray hair tied up—Khalo noted that like him she also had gray hair—in a flawless pony tail high on her head like a crown swinging around as she walked. On her right eye she wore an eye patch while the left was also scarred and lacked beauty in its sad black color. She had a tight, black, body suit, it was seamless so Khalo knew she must've worked very hard to get it. Over her body suit she wore her vest with many holsters and pockets sewn into it, it wasn't much but it was sturdy. At her waist she wore a tick leather belt, unlike Khalo's which was rope and burlap, to it was strung more holsters and a fine fabric, white cape, stained to the weathered condition. Her legs were girded with two holsters armor from her thighs to her knees, and heavy leather boots, thick and armor-like protecting her shins and feet. Khalo envied those boots, his were thin leather and were not strong enough to be like armor.

Khalo couldn't help but note how well girded she was and how feminine her figure was, despite what scars she had. She was thin and nimble in the waist, and her arms and legs were strong, but her chest was tightened by her body suit making Khalo's thoughts stray to what she must look like when she was relaxed. She was very beautiful to him, strong, levelheaded, and elegant in all her ways. Quickly Khalo dismissed it, "you said 'us' does that mean you're also from 9-A?"

Hawthorne grimaced a little as they walked, in one swift movement she drew a dagger from her boot and slashed it at Khalo, in the same moment Khalo drew his sword to meet it. Hawthorne grinned falsely, brandishing the knife she pressed harder, "does it look like it?" she asked in return.

Khalo knew this statement it meant she wanted him to see for himself, his eyes drifted to the dagger. The blade was folded he could tell by looking at it, it was curved and sharp, "you made it?" he asked, Hawthorne affirmed. Khalo grimaced it must've taken her forever to fold it even if it was only a dagger, what she had attempted was a dagger as strong as a katana. "How many folds?" he asked again proving his knowledge of it since it was among the few things he never forgot.

Hawthorne recoiled and broke away sheathing the blade, "eight hundred," she said softly.

Khalo smirked a little, "so few?" he set his sword back in its holster, he had felt her strength and he now knew she had little to hold up against him especially with the weight of his sword. Khalo reached up and took out his staff again, the small blade on the side was no more than five inches long, "See this," he held up the blade to her, "two thousand folds, and even that is very few! It takes four thousands to make a good katana, and eight thousand to make a incomparable one,"

"Khalo," Dmitri said again. Khalo turned to him, "look around you. The sun has risen so you can see, we're all from 9-A," Dmitri kicked a rock off a boulder then jumped off it followed by the others. As Dmitri recovered from the short fall they began working their way up a long hill, "what happened to you, Khalo?" Dmitri asked receiving no answer. "Khalo!" Dmitri pleaded again now in desperation, "what about those things you said? All the things about leaving this place and finding our originals in the real world, all your ideas about the real world, those things you said you had seen, they all meant nothing? What has changed in you?" he begged as tears suddenly streamed down his face.

Tensing Khalo stared painfully at Dmitri's tears, seeing the tears pained Khalo in his heart, "I don't know!" Khalo whispered in a firm voice to hide his trembling, "I can't remember…"

Dmitri gazed deeply into his eyes, "what about that we were somehow tied as one person like you said about your visions! We are one person!" to prove himself Dmitri then rushed forward to a spring on the ground in the hill, the water was what he was heading for. Touching his hand to the water as it trickled down the hillside he manipulated it raising the stream into the air and around them, "We can both do this, you taught it to me," he brought the water into a ball and stretched it around in the air before he absorbed it into his own hands.

Khalo seemed a bit stunned by the inhumanity of Dmitri's actions but even more so by the stance Dmitri then took up. Dmitri bent his knees lowering himself to the ground, his arms were arched and his form seemed to waver like ripples in water. His arms flailed in circular movement then abruptly they flowed forth with water reacting a lens before him which Khalo could see through. For a moment Khalo thought it was a mirror as the person he saw through the water was not Dmitri but himself then as he looked closer he saw that it was negated.

Khalo knew he had gray hair with cyan blue stands but the person he saw staring back at him was not himself but his complete negation. Black hair, dark red strands and eyes like crimson coals. The vision vanished abruptly and Dmitri collapsed, Khalo stood absolutely stunned, what he had seen scared him, this meant that Dmitri had some sort of connection to someone else who was their exact negation. Before he could react to what he had seen he reacted to Dmitri as his small form rolled down the hill those several paces back where he came.

Stopping his fall Khalo saw that Dmitri was breathing hard, "it takes a lot of energy to do that, but you're stronger than my I know you can do it better than I can," Dmitri breathed, slowly he tried to stand up but quickly fell again to be stopped by Khalo. It took a while, but Dmitri's strength eventually did return and they continued up the steep hill. As they did Khalo began to become aware of the other four travelers with them. Hawthorne was seemingly the head of the group and Dmitri was only a tag-a-long, as was Khalo at this point, but the others all seemed to have a story of their own by their appearance.

It seemed odd to Khalo, besides Dmitri and himself, all Alters in the group were girls. Strange looking girls at that. The one closest behind Hawthorne was a blond girl whose name—as he eventually found out—was Enimsaj, he silently noted what a strange name it was but he noted his own name was a bit strange as it was. Her eyes were like Khalo's lacking in color except a faint blue but she seemed very uneasy and her eyes were dark as if from lack of sleep or a lot of recent crying. She wasn't that much different from Khalo himself, needing a few tears once in a while. Enimsaj wore a light blue head band, likely another forget-me-not, it looked as if it was three pieces of quality woven fabric sewn together into a strap tied across her forehead. Her blond hair was not as well kept as Hawthorne. She was dressed in a make shift dress, with wrapped black sleeves on her arms, legs, and high on her neck, this black under clothing also had a hood which she currently wore over her head hiding all her skin except on her face and hands. Her feet her shod in worn boots and the only weapon visible was around her waist on a rope belt in a small, well decorated sheath. Her dagger had also been forged by Hawthorne but it was meager and did poorly to defend herself, it was probably why she had Hawthorne were so close.

The next one that caught Khalo's eyes was who he later found out to be Rynthkhyaliem. Rynth, as was her nickname, or Runt, wore a light, white dress, showing much skin on her arms, legs, and neck, but that only locked Khalo's eyes on her more fastidiously. She didn't seem to have any weapons but to find out for sure Khalo struck at her with a weapon of his own and she abruptly used something to send him away. Rynth was energetic, and for more reasons than apt, she had some ability to store energy reserves in her body then summon them and fire them at will, this had been what she used to deflect Khalo's blow so effortlessly. Her eyes were sapphire blue and her hair, held back by flowers behind her ears and several decorative barrettes, was black, unlike all the others with light nearly colorless hair, it was strange to Khalo, most replicas had light or gray hair but this one had black hair, it didn't bother him but it struck him as strange.

Finally the last two in the group, Khalo had to overlook the two of them at the same time because of how alike they looked. The twins, Posman and Negara, Khalo laughed a bit by their names, Positive and Negative, they both had pink hair and eyes, their ragged and short hair wasn't tied back in the slightest way unlike to all the other's even Khalo. Dmitri tight his hair back in a ponytail not unlike to Hawthorne's, but it was shorter and barely stayed. Both were clad in the black body suits, but Neg wore a short, frilly punk-goth-looking dress involving netting and expensive fabrics that were incredibly hard to make from what he knew. Pos—and Khalo quickly found he was mistaken by the pink hair—was male, and wore little more than the black body suit other than clad boots—again Khalo envied—a tie, and a sharp, personally crafted scimitar, holstered in a sheath on the back of his belt. It was a flexible attire though it confused Khalo. Neg also carried a weapon but the face she carried with it was what made it potent; evil, cringed, pleasurable, these were her faces as she brandished the blade of a death scythe.

Khalo breathed in deeply, his breath had quickened from climbing this hill, he found himself looking over his own appearance after having looked over everyone else. His boots were worn and falling apart but they had served him this long they could survive a bit longer, if he could get some more copper he could pay for new ones but not here in the middle of nowhere. He wore black, wrapped leggings, warm cotton breaches, a dark brown make-shift tunic secured by a belt and a shoulder belt for his one weapon holster containing his two weapons a large, sharp, weighty, two-edged sword, and a sturdy staff with the small folded blade on the end. For some reason his bangs always fell to one side so he had them ties back with two hair bands but he didn't mind having the rest of his hair on his neck. His two arm guards were the only things he had to protect him, those and his two weapons.

Things must have been changing for the others as well, Khalo felt a lot of significance as they reached the top of the hill. "Khalo, look," Dmitri urged, taking Khalo by the wrist. They ran over the peak of the long trek up and stopped at the top while the other's followed at a slower pace. Before them laid a widely stretched camp, without buildings, and little structures of tents, smoke rose from every one of the few tents and many small forms wandered the dusty paths between tents. This was the ninth colony in this world, there were two sections of this colony simply called A and B. The residents of A were metal workers who were all skilled in making weapons and utensils over various kinds. The residents of B on the other hand, worked with cotton, leather, straw, and anything that could be used for fabric or rope. Both were very prestigious colonies because of their produce for the world lacking in everything.

Dmitri smiled brightly but Khalo could only stare forward over the colony, "We're here," he whispered. Picking up his feet he began walking down into the valley where the colony lied, "9-A," he whispered. The others began to follow him now, he had nowhere in this world, everything he had was on his back, but somehow his heart felt drawn, his purpose was being revealed. He was an Alter, he had a purpose, and this journey, a journey past 9-A was his goal, to leave this world and find his original. 9-A was the first step, 9-A was special to him, 9-A is—"My home!"