The Blazing Desert was never Darian's favorite place to go. Sure, it beat out the Deep Swamp, but everything beat the Deep Swamp. Even most of the Witches and Swampkin who do live there hate it, with only the stubborn pride of their nature keeping them there. They'd rather suffer the Deep Swamp than be under the rule of the Kingdom of Blair.

Still, that didn't mean that the Blazing Desert was exactly a very fun place to be, as the sand attempting to get into his eyes could attest. It was a miserably dry place, with temperature highs unmatched anywhere else, and lows beaten only by the Great Winter up north.

His thoughts strayed towards the inhabitants of the Great Winter. The Kinsman were arguably the strongest race within the world, and they needed to be in order to survive their frigid home. It was a shame that they were dying out, as they were the only race capable of producing warriors that could stand up to even Paragons when it came down to physical ability.

Though the Sandkin were a close second.

It's been quite some time since the First Tribe of Kin split off and formed the different Kin races. Some went up north, staying in the mountains and becoming the Mountainkin, before later changing their name to the Lotharians. Some went even further north, becoming the great warriors that were the Kinsman. Some went to the west, staying in the Deep Swamp as the females became Witches and the males became the Swampkin. Those that went to the Dark Forest became the Forestkin, with Aralene being the first, others stayed in the Fertile Plains and became the Villagers. And those that went down south, became the Sandkin.

Really, the Sandkin were the closest in attitude to the original Kin Tribes, second only the the Kinsman. Power and personal might mattered greatly to them, and to have neither was to be less than nothing. But the Sandkin held a different mindset than the Kinsman. The Kinsman took their strength seriously, and without much humor. To find a humorous Kinsman was rare, and was often the result of half-breeds. Not only that, but they saw bloodshed and conquest as the best way to prove their strength, which would end up leading to what could tentatively be called this era's first World War, and the near extinction of the Kinsman.

The Sandkin were a lot more fun, in his opinion. They took strength and power very seriously, but they made sure that they enjoyed themselves while doing so. They were competitive, and often ended up forming rivalries with what would later become their significant other. Or others, depending on the group.

Not only were they more fun to be around, but they also understood the value of skills outside of combat. It didn't matter what you did, as long as it was useful to the tribe and you were good at it, you would be considered a true Sandkin. Really, it's no wonder that some of the best craftsmen to ever live were Sandkin or trained within one of the Sandkin tribes. The naturally abundant stone, clay, mundane metals, and sand made the Blazing Desert a place where craftsmanship thrived.

Though he was mildly biased. After all, most Aspects of Destruction are first "born" here. Probably because most of their physical traits matched up with those of the Sandkin. The beaming sun often led to darker skin tones, matching well with the naturally tanned skin of the Aspects of Destruction. Darker hair also prevailed here, as well as a variety of odd eye colors. Though that last bit wasn't exactly unique to the Sandkin, they were more abundant amongst their kind than any other.

Patting Cringer on his side, Darian stopped the battle mount and surveyed the area from a large hill of sand. He had followed the beacon Daria was letting out all the way to here, but the closer he got the harder it was to pinpoint where she was. The most he could gather was that she was still on this part of the continent, but not much else.

Frowning, he closed his eyes and tried to sense for her Mana signature, before cursing as a sudden barrage of contradictions hit him. He couldn't get a decent lock onto her. It was as if she was in two places at once, with one of those bouncing everywhere across the continent, and the other hiding her signature to the point where he could only feel traces of it.

Daria always did have a habit of making things unnecessarily difficult.

Letting out a sigh, he gave Cringer another pat. Taking off down the sand hill, Darian pulled out the map he had brought with him. It's been quite some time since he's navigated the Blazing Desert, so he couldn't be sure if everything was the same as it was a century ago. Still, there was one place he knew should still be the same.

While the majority of the Blazing Desert was, well, a desert, there was one area which could only be described as an oasis. Cutting through the heart of the Blazing Desert was the Vein River, which was known as the Life-Giving Vein of the Sandkin. Without it, any attempts at agriculture and horticulture would be impossible. The river brought forth not only water, but also silt, which was able to fertilize the land near the river.

Really, it was basically the Nile of the Blazing Desert, and is responsible for the rich culture of craftsmanship that the Sandkin have now. And it most certainly was a culture that he-

Prometheus materialized in his hands, slashing to his left as he hit a black ebony falchion out of the air. Watching as the blade began to spin around him, Darian's eyes narrowed as a figure in a black feather cloak dropped onto the sand softly. As the individual's shoes touched the ground, the cloak shimmered out of existence, revealing a well-dressed young man with a pale blue stalhrim falchion in his right hand.

Catching the ebony falchion in his other hand, he turned around, revealing his narrowed navy eyes.

Seven.

…

"So, where exactly are we headed now?"

Feeling the tightness of Rana's grip on my shoulders, I chuckled as I looked down at the large expanse of sand and cacti. "Currently? I've no fucking clue. I'm just kind of winging it. Daria's Mana signature is fucking wild right now, so there's no way I can track it. You have any ideas?"

The squeezing of her hands on my shoulders was enough for me to understand her sudden frustration, even before it was clearly evident in her voice. "Any proper traveler would have packed a map, at the very least. Thankfully, I did. It is just in my back pocket, s-so hold on as I let go of you to grab it."

Tentatively, she let go of my shoulder with one hand, her other one manifesting a death grip as she tried to grab the map in her back pocket. Keeping a steady hold of Champ's reins, I slowed us down enough so that the wind blowing in our faces was less forceful. Rana didn't say anything, but the relieved sigh she let out was enough for me.

"Right, here it is. Try not to lose it."

Taking the map from her outstretched hand, I opened it up and gave it a quick once over. It was a simple map of the continent, showing all six kingdoms, or their equivalent, as well as a large jungle island that I've never actually really seen or heard of before. "Hey Rana, what's with this jungle island? It's like half the size of the Blazing Desert, and yet I've never even heard of it."

Feeling Rana shift behind me, her head popped up out of the corner of my eye. She squinted at the map, before humming once she saw what I was talking about. "That jungle island is one of the last and most lethal Consecrated Grounds left in the world. It's so dangerous, was deemed to be not worth the hassle to colonize and a waste of resources. Not only that, but the island's position makes it difficult to decide who would have a proper claim to it, so there's also the whole political issue with it as well."

Huh, an entire island sized Consecrated Ground. I'm not too familiar with the specifics, but those generally only form where there are high concentrations of Magical energy, or more accurately, Mana. Something to do with Mana Veins or something like that, but that's getting into the ancient history of it all, which is still mostly unconfirmed.

Making a mental note to check that place out another time, I equipped one of my catalyst gauntlets on my right hand, holding the map in my left. Let's see, a combination of the collecting enchant and analysis enchant should work, and adding in infinity should keep the process going for as long as it has Mana. Of course, all that on its own won't be enough. It needs a focus, so perhaps the use of an Ilem sigil as a focus could work. Though just in case, I'll add a bit of mind Mana to it as well.

Placing the palm of my catalyst gauntlet on the map, I began to actualize the gauntlet. The three enchantments began to circle around my arm, with the sigil forming on the center of my palm. The Mana began to glow a skirt of light purple, before the sigil was imprinted onto the map. The enchantments began to fly off my arm, melding themselves around the sigil as they too imprinted onto the map. Once all of the enchantments were on the map, I finished off the enchantment by calling upon the sigil's name. "Ilem."

Ilem was the sigil of eyes, insight, and knowledge. According to Lotharian scholars, it was most commonly used by sorcerers for increasing the speed at which they learned, and for shielding their minds against the strain of conceptualizing and forming a mental image of their sorcery during casting. Something which I didn't need to worry about thanks to my enhanced physiology and natural affinity for Mana and sorcery casting. Besides that, however, the sigil also served as a good focus for channeling enchantments into information gathering pursuits. Such as what I was doing with this map.

The sigil faded into the map, blending in with the colors of the continent as the runes of the enchantments began to fly around the surface. They ran across every inch of the map, memorizing it and scanning for its position. Eventually, the runes began to circle around a small spot a good eighty miles north of the Vein River.

"Right, so we're right where the runes are circling, if this thing is working correctly. We should probably start our search along the Vein River and start questioning some people there. With any luck, we'll be able to get a lead and find her quickly. From there, we do whatever we need to do to get out of this shithole desert and go home. That sound good?"

She tapped my shoulder once, giving me her approval of the plan. Dismissing the catalyst gauntlet, I held the map in my right hand and Champ's reigns in my left. Turning my gaze over towards the south, i readied myself as-

Darian.

My eyes locked onto him, hands tightening as I pushed my Mana sense outwards and towards him. I've never felt his signature before, but once I felt it brush against my senses, it felt as if I had known it all my life. It was frighteningly similar to Daria's and my own, with only the slight tinge of what must've been his Influence differentiating it from them.

It was so familiar, that I didn't even sense him at first. My passive Mana sensing must have deemed it friendly automatically, and suppressed its presence. It was only because I saw him on the hill that I was able to recognize him. Him.

Objectively speaking, it would be safest to just either fly away or carpet bomb him from the sky and hope that does him in. After all, I've no proper reference for his power, since the last time I saw him was…

The village was up in flames, the people were dead, and all that was left was a fuck ton of illagers and me.

"Darius!? What are you doing!?"

I was falling through the air before I could even really understand what I was doing, Pupil materializing in my hand as I threw it towards Darian. Master formed in my other hand, and as the ground began to come closer with alarming speed, I grabbed a special cloak I had prepared for something like this.

Crowfeather Garb

Rare

A cloak made from the feathers of Nevermore Crows, which are notorious for their affinity towards air Mana. The cloak has been enchanted using the Ayem sigil, as well as other weight reduction and slow fall enchantments.

My descent began to slow, the cloak spreading as air caught beneath its feathers. Leaning forward, I began to glide through the air. Gripping the edges of the cloak with my Mana, I forced them shut and began to plunge through the air and towards the ground.

Once I was only a dozen or so feet away from the ground, I let the cloak go, stopping my sudden fall. My shoes hit the ground softly, the cloak relaxing around my body. With its job done, I vanished it to my inventory and reached up into the air, catching Pupil and turning around, eyes narrowed. "Darian."

His helmet didn't give away much, but I could see the navy glow of his eyes brighten dangerously as he slid off his giant albino warg. "Seven. I didn't expect to see you here so quickly."

Damn, so he was expecting to see me. Mentally chastising myself for not thinking that he would be here, I held my blades to my sides and readied myself. "This wasn't exactly in my plans, but you know what they say. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that."

He tilted his head, holding his sword over his shoulder as eyed me cautiously. "So, I'm a gift now? You'll have to forgive me if I don't see how that applies."

That was fair. Truth be told, even I wasn't exactly sure what I meant by it. But that wasn't going to stop me from taking what I can from this situation. "Well, I just have a lot of questions, you see. After all, last time we met, you were burning down a village and slaughtering innocent people for no apparent reason whatsoever."

He hummed slightly, tapping his fingers against the handle of his sword. "Ah, right. I can see how that'd be confusing for you. I was simply after you, of course. I was hoping to put you down before you got too powerful."

Yeah yeah, that much I could kind of figure out. But there were still a few pieces missing there. "That doesn't make things any clearer. Why were you trying to kill me? I can understand Daria trying to, she's really not a very complicated woman. But I don't know anything about you, and why you do what you do."

His armored fingers stopped tapping, and for a moment he stood perfectly still. The glow of his eyes through his helmet began to dim slightly, almost as if they were softening. However, that was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and he just shrugged. "Unfortunately, our kind have a rather nasty habit of being incredibly dangerous individuals with little to no morals or empathy when it comes to others. As such, they have a habit of destroying entire towns, cities, and even minor kingdoms simply because they can. After putting down the last three of our kind, I simply wanted to nip your life in the bud before anything disastrous could happen. Simple, really."

That… made sense, begrudgingly. If I knew of someone who was capable and willing to slaughter hundreds for their own amusement, I'd also try to kill them before they could. But there were still other variables that I couldn't quite place. "And yet you have an entire band of Illagers and bandits that deal with enslavement, murder, and rape on a regular basis."

The grip he held on his sword tightened for a moment, and the glowing navy of his gaze burned with an intensity I hadn't seen from him until now. "Having bodies willing to die for you was useful whenever I needed to kill one of our own. If it could mitigate the damage of those wayward Aspects, then I can turn a blind eye to some of their more… despicable practices. So long as they remembered to never do so in my presence. Though you do make one mistake. I do not have said Illagers anymore. I disposed of them, seeing as I no longer felt the need for their continued existence."

There was a steel to his voice as he spoke, a barely hidden edge that betrayed his otherwise apathetic tone. He disliked the Illagers almost as much as I do. "Right. Then all I have is one question. Why didn't you chase after me? Why did you leave me be?"

At that, he seemed to shift slightly. I couldn't read what the movement meant, but it was enough to give me pause, even as he spoke. "Daria begged me not to. She said you'd be different from the others, that she had watched you and deemed your character to be… good. And, to her credit, you were. I never saw any need to go after you again. Unfortunately, then you made one fatal mistake."

Finally, he lifted his blade off of his shoulder. Holding it with a single hand, he pointed it directly at me. "You helped Ainzool die, and damned the world."

And then, he lunged.

…

The boy jumped back at Darian's initial swing, legs tense as his vest and slacks shimmered out of existence. In their place, was a pair of armored pants and shirt covered by a thick leather coat that ended at the middle of his calves. The fur collar went up to his cheeks, obscuring part of his face as gauntlets materialized on his hands.

A useful skill.

Holding his ground, Darian raised an eyebrow as Seven dashed forward. The boy slashed at him, overextending and leaving himself wide open as Darian stepped to the side. Lifting Prometheus with two hands, he went to punish the boy's foolishness and-

Seven spun around suddenly, removing himself from immediate danger and seining his other blade at the older Aspect. Darian barely had time to lift his sword up and block, the black falchion slamming against Prometheus with surprising strength.

Pushing against the falchion, he forced the boy away and jumped back. There was no way anyone would have been able to react fast enough to pull a maneuver like that. Even Aspects of Destruction had their limits. Perhaps he was rustier than he thought.

Pushing that train of thought aside, he stopped holding his blade with his right hand, lifting it up with his left. Dashing forward, he rested his arm back, waiting until he was only a few feet away from Seven's stunned form before thrusting Prometheus forward. The blade stabbed through the air, whistling as it closed the distance between it and the boy's chest with-

The black falchion stopped it this time, the sword held in a reverse grip as Seven twisted Prometheus out of the way. Stepping forward, he thrust his other falchion towards Darian. Acting quickly, he vanished Prometheus in order to free himself from the boy's ebony falchion. Taking a step back, he barely managed to avoid any major damage, the stalhrim blade only scratching the edge of his armor.

Countering an attack with such a fraction of a second precision once could be considered luck. Twice, however? There was more than luck at play here. And he intended to find out what was really going on.

Summoning Prometheus to his hands yet again, Darian swung the sword upwards, the blade cutting through the sand before arcing upwards. With the attack's current trajectory, it would make contact with Seven's wrist within less than half a second, severing the hand from-

The stalhrim falchion vanished for a brief moment, before reappearing in the reverse grip, protecting its owner's wrist. Seven pushed down on Prometheus, forcing the blade down slightly as he lifted himself up. Following through on the momentum he just gave himself, Seven slammed the bottom of his armored boot into Darian's helmet, sending the old king flying back.

Darian's armored body hit the ground, sending sand everywhere as he began to skid across the ground. Stabbing his hand into the sand, he slowed himself down and began to climb back up.

Those openings weren't a coincidence. Seven was purposefully putting himself into near death situations, and countering the attack at the last second. It wasn't the first time he had seen the tactic, not in the slightest. After all, many swordsmen have found their skills lackluster against his own, and have had to resort toward such methods.

But it wasn't the countering that shocked him. No, it was the borderline suicidal method at which Seven was doing it. The window of success he was giving himself with each counter was but a fraction of a second, and if he messed up even once then it would be a sure hit, possibly even death. There is no possible way he was merely reacting that quickly. Not against someone who mostly likely easily surpassed him in speed and strength.

No, he was anticipating his opponent's attacks. By leaving himself open in such a way, he was creating optimal attack opportunities that he knew his opponent would take. With that taken into consideration, the almost passive nature of his counterattacking suddenly became aggressive in every sense of the word.

It was almost Kinsman-like in philosophy. Every option during a battle was a form of offense for them. Even blocking became an active attack when done by a Kinsman. They were relentless in their aggression, putting their bodies and lives on the line for each attack over and over again. It was what made them such dangerous foes.

And what gave Seven the lead in this battle.

He could see it in the way the boy stalked forward, in how he held his blades at his sides as he studied and waited. In truth, he was most likely only a swordsman of middling skill. Against any semi-decent knight, he would find his swordsmanship lacking.

But he would still come out victorious, no matter what.

For someone as experienced as Darian, it was painfully obvious what type of fighter Seven was, even from only three exchanges. The boy didn't hide his lack of skill in the slightest. No, he flaunted it. He dared anyone unfortunate enough to underestimate him into attacking first, before showing the fool just why he was a warrior of some of the highest class.

Darian couldn't help but chuckle. The boy wasn't a swordsman of any proper renown. He was a killer, who could take his knowledge of proper swordsmanship and turn it against his opponents with almost frightening results.

With that revelation under his belt, Darian opted to wait for his opponent to attack first. He held his blade low, the tip of it almost touching the sand as he waited.

And his patience was rewarded, as the boy narrowed his eyes and sprinted forward. He held his blades at his sides, arms tense as he readied himself for a strike. And Darian let him, continuing to wait as the boy came closer. Thirty feet. Twenty feet. Ten feet.

Now.

Digging the flat end of his blade into the ground, Darian swung upwards, sending a cloud of sand into the boy's eyes.

The effect was instant, as Seven stumbled forward with his eyes closed shut. Seizing the opportunity in front of him, Darian swung his blade down, following through with his momentum and cutting through the boy's armor. Blood splattered outwards, a large diagonal wound oozing blood as Seven jumped back.

Knowing an opportunity when he saw it, Darian followed the boy's retreat, lifting Prometheus up to his side. Holding it tightly with both hands, he took one last step forward and thrust the blade into-

"Aegis, Universal Protection."

A buckler shield materialized from thin air, before spreading open and covering Seven with a dome of Mana. Prometheus struggled against the shield, but even its edge proved to be too little to damage it. Darian scowled, stepping back as he watched the boy stab some kind of injector into his chest, the large wound knitting itself together alongside his armor.

Fascinating. That boy managed to create a fully fledged Soul Artifact.

Aralene?

Of course! I told you I could communicate to you through this thing. And what better way to do that, then through connecting our minds and talking telepathically? You might wanna step to the side by the way.

Confused, but trusting her judgment, Darian stepped to the side just in time to dodge a fireball, the shield coming down just before the attack left.

Look at the ebony falchion.

Readying himself for a strike, Darian did as she asked and glanced down at the weapon. On the flat side of it, was some fiery orange sigil, with three rings of runes circling around the blade.

Interesting. The boy is using Hefhed, the sigil of heat, burning, and fire, alongside some enchantments to empower the fire of the ebony falchion. It's sorcery, no doubt about it, but it's a manner of sorcery I've never seen before. He's using the runes of enchantments alongside the sigils in order to gain more control over the sorcery without using too much Mana. Not an issue I've ever had, but it's certainly something to take into consideration for future use. Duck.

Crouching low, Darian just managed to dodge another wave of flames. Letting out a quiet growl, he sprinted forward as fast as his base form body could. Staring with his blade low, Darian swung it upwards before following through, turning on his heel and dodging another fireball. Pushing off the ground with his legs, he kept up his momentum with a swing upwards-

Only for Prometheus to be stopped by a blade of ice.

Ah, he's using Hekem for the stalhrim blade. The polar opposite of Hefhed in every way.

Annoyance spiking, Darian dug his heels into the ground and pushed into the ice blade, shattering it. Not willing to give Seven the chance to recover, he stepped forward and slammed his shoulder into the boy's chest. Lifting Seven off the ground, Darian sprinted down the sand hill, approaching another one nearby. Letting Prometheus vanish, he gripped the boy by the legs and threw him into the hill.

Seven's body punched a hole in the side of the sand hill. A hole which was soon filled by more sand, burying him inside the hill. Knowing not to expect someone to be dead until there was a body, Darian summoned Prometheus to his hands and slowly walked towards the hill. Though before he could stab his blade through the hill, he paused and swore at his sour luck. "Mother's nonexistent ass."

Turning around slightly, he swung his sword downwards and slammed it into a long sword, one with strikingly beautiful craftsmanship. Holding the magnificent blade, was a young woman with blonde hair tied up in a braid bun. Her bright blue eyes were narrowed in an ugly hatred, before pushing off his sword and landing on the ground ten feet away from him.

Holding her blade with two gauntleted hands, she snarled at him. "I'd recognize that blade anywhere. You are the leader of those damned Illagers."

Oh great, another person those beasts pissed off. Maybe keeping them around as a meat shield wasn't the best option. "Was. I decided that their continued existence was unnecessary, and had them all killed. And you are?"

Her blue combat dress swayed slightly in the wind, the silver armored plates attached to it keeping the dress mostly still. "I am Dame Rana, knight of House Artifice and Head General of Illimité."

Of course she was. Well, seeing as she introduced herself properly, he may as well do the same. "Well met. I am The Old King Darian, once ruler of Blair and now simply an old man doing what he can for the future. Must we fight, Dame Rana? My quarrel is only with the man you call Sir Lord Artifice."

He already knew the answer to that question, even before her frown deepened. "If your quarrel is with Darius, then your quarrel is with me as well."

Ah well, at least he tried.

Charging forward, he began his assault on Dame Rana's defense. Unlike with Seven, this exchange of blades was far more like a customary duel between swordsman than a battle to the death. With every clash of their blades, he gained a little bit more insight into her skill and technique, and grew just as impressed with her. Clearly, she was a skilled combatant.

But now was not the time for compliments.

He began to hit harder than ever, his every strike coming at the young woman faster and stronger than the last. And yet, frustratingly, she managed to keep up. Her body glowed with a golden energy, starting from her sword and going through to her. If it weren't for the armor Aralene had made for him, he might have been forced to use his powers rather than rely on solely his physical might.

Told you it was awesome! Though I didn't think you'd run into someone capable of using reinforcement sorcery. Even if her power is all kinds of stiff and unwieldy.

Taking Aralene's words into consideration, he swung down onto the girl with all his strength, finally managing to throw her back and onto the ground. With a practiced ease, Darian reversed his grip on Prometheus and began to stab down-

"Rana!"

Something stuck to his blade, a sort of Mana string that wrapped around his sword, pulling it out of his hands. From the sand hill he had last seen him, came Seven. His body and armor were covered in sand, an annoyed frown on his face as he leapt to his companion's side.

This was starting to look quite bad. Not only that, but his trusty battle mount was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell was-

A crash to his left alerted him to Cringer's location. Being held against the ground was the albino warg, on top of him was a… robot skeleton horse? Where did Seven get a robot skeleton horse from? And why was it so damn cool!?

I'd recommend a retreat, but to be honest I'm not sure how you'd do that. Remember, you can always use the capture pearl I gave you to escape back to here if you really-

No, he would not be doing that.

Stretching an arm out, he recalled Prometheus back to his hands, holding it in front of him. The Rana girl and Seven were in front of him, both of them defaulting into a combat stance as they faced off against him. Perhaps he should start tapping into his power right about-

"ENOUGH!"

The ground between him and the duo exploded, maroon and near black Mana erupting from the ground. The mastered destruction Mana began to form several hundred beastly claws, keeping him from reaching the other group and vice versa.

And that was when the culprit of the attack stepped forward.

"I could sense you two all the way from Grania! So why don't you both put your weapons away and stop making a mess so that we can talk like civilized adults!"

…Ria?

…

I finished this chapter like a week and a half ago, but I kept forgetting to upload it because I got distracted with ULTRAKILL. It's a fun fucking game.

Right, let's see what happened here because I can barely fucking remember. Ah, right, Darian and Darius meet for the first time since ACH Chapter 5 (So it's been the better part of a year in-universe), we get some more sigil knowledge because those are always fun, and we get a surprise reveal by Daria, who can use her powers in the sun? I truly wonder how and why that could have happened, I really do.

But ignoring that, why don't we get to the highlight of these endslates, the Review of the Chapter:

"Much like in disgaea shit starts getting real when a horse Weiner gets involved."

I'm not gonna lie, I had no idea what disgaea was until I was forced to google it. And after a quick search, I can safely say that I still have no idea what it is. Oh sure, it's a "Tactical role-playing" game, but that means about as much as when Metal Gear Solid called itself a "Tactical Espionage Action" game. The point is, that I have no idea why horse cock is so integral to this disgaea game, and I'm afraid to find out.

This has been A Decent Hoonter, and boy oh boy 2020 Two is almost here!