YES, so the old ch85 was a piece of garbage and I sincerely apologize to anyone who read that mess. Please forget everything you read. That is what happens when you try to move the plot foreward too quickly because you want to get to cool stuff. it becomes a shitshow that doesn't flow.

But then again, if you are reading this on chapter 85, then you aren't particularly bothered by stupidly long fics... haha... rip.

Anyways, here's the new ch 85.

*Hug and kiss*

The Kids have different upbringings.

Armour: Titanium

Weapon: None

Acc(10/11): Celestial cuffs, Mana Flower, Sorcerer Emblem, Celestial Emblem, Ankh Shield, Deific Amulet, FrostSpark Boots, Grand Gelatin, Amalgamated Brain, Evasion Scarf.

Health: (425/425)

Armour: Victide Armour (Ranger)

Weapon: [UNUSABLE]Mandible Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis

Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Sailfish Boots, Luxor's Gift, Ocean Crest, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean

Health: (375/400)

The Guide, for a long while, had feared his relationship with The Terrarian was entirely one sided.

There were many instances where he caught himself regarding his inhuman companion with a great deal of unsolicited affection, and needed to sheepishly berate himself for it. He was behaving like an bereaved lover or an estranged parent, and - he told himself - this was entirely inappropriate.

Did The Slayer ever notice this? The Guide wasn't sure. The almost-man wasn't particularly perceptive and scarcely showed emotions. Aside for that one instance many weeks ago where he laid his heart bare, he hadn't made himself vulnerable since. This was to be expected. The Terrarian was a born warrior. He slaughtered almost everything that crossed his path with a cold contempt. Emotions were extraneous. He wasn't supposed to show weakness...

"Shh, shh - It's alright, buddy..."

But it appeared the man didn't care about what he was supposed to do, because after the initial shock (and what a shock it was - The Slayer looked like he'd been struck with lightning) he clung to The Guide and sobbed into the crook of his neck without a single ounce of reservation. He didn't speak. His face was hidden beneath The Guide's collar... but by now, The Guide was a master of reading body language. It was abundantly clear The Slayer meant to say: 'I've missed you terribly'.

And for once, The Guide felt no need to fill the air with mindless ramble. He had wrapped his arms around The Terrarian and folded him against his chest, happily enduring the many sharp bits of armour that poked into him. The Terrarian's remaining arm clutched desperately as his back - as if fearful he'd disappear once more. That would probably leave a bruise later, but for now - The Guide didn't mind.

Because he was happy.

All of his strangely parental impulses were now being validated. It really was a very bizarre thing. When he first laid eyes on The Terrarian- that prone figure splayed out in the center of The Summoning circle - he hated him. The Terrarian had been borne of - benefitted by- the deaths of everyone The Guide knew and in some twisted irrational logic, The Guide had determined to avenge himself upon that unconscious figure.

He had made up his mind to do it. He had drawn his knife. He had placed it against that cold throat. There was hate bubbling in his head. His hands trembled in rage.

But he couldn't plunge his blade in.

He couldn't.

The Guide had tried. He had tried!... but he couldn't manage it. His gentle constitution prevented him from carrying out the revenge he so desperately longed for. He hated The Terrarian. He hated himself for his weakness. He fled. He fled, carrying The Terrarian on his back, deep into the woods until he collapsed in the grass.

And henceforth, The Terrarian didn't leave his side. The almost man, who had once been hated, was now tolerated for his usefulness. It didn't matter that he was rude. It didn't matter if he seemed to hold The Guide in little regard. What mattered was he had built The Compound and provided provision. His nature was that of a monster killer, and so The Guide had determined to use him for his own purposes. Would the offspring of his family's deaths avenge them and free their souls? Such a thing was only right!

And so, The Terrarian remained at his side, and together, they ventured abroad with that vague idea in mind - to defeat The Crimson, to save those souls. The Terrarian likely had no idea why he was doing what he did - but he followed The Guide wherever he led him. Together, they struggled through the deep forests, across great sand dunes and down into the bowels of the earth. Together, they fought the creatures of the night - fending off the undead hoard and the great demon eyes which split the silence with screeching. They battled the monstrosities in the depths, giant antlion termites whose mandibles gnashed like vices, great tunneling worms that split through the earth like spears made of teeth. Together, they journeyed into the bloodthirsty mushroom fields, falling prey to those sinister spores which had effected The Terrarian so strongly, he became delirious in an instant. Then they plunged into the cold waters of the Sunken Sea to crack open the giant clam and find The Sea King within - Amidas, who would visit upon them endless troubles.

"Hey, don't cry... It's all okay now."

How long has it been? Two weeks? Three that they were on expedition? They carried each other from one challenge to the next. They bound each other's wounds. They guarded each other's lives... they squabbled. They argued. They had lied to each other. They had fought. At one point, The Guide was pretty certain The Terrarian wanted to outright kill him... but in the end, both of them persisted. They remained beside each other because they needed each other - and not just physically, but emotionally as well. To imagine the one who was borne of his family's deaths was now his family?

Ridiculous.

Preposterous.

But that was exactly what had happened.

When The Terrarian was torn from him in that great blast, how terrified he was! How his heart ached. What irrational anger filled his head. As he dealt with the intricacies of The Compound's politics, his companion never left his mind. The one he'd raised from birth. The one he'd grown to treasure as his own. He agonized over The Slayer the same way a parent agonized over their lost children. He wondered where he was. He wondered how he was surviving...

Then he was killed.

He saw hell.

Then he was revived.

And now he was here, clasping his dear friend close to his heart. The crown of The Terrarian's helmet was cool against his cheek. The immaculately maintained plume of white feathers was soft against his badly ravaged hand. They'd been injured, badly, both of them. They'd suffered from pain, heartache and exhaustion. He had longed to see The Slayer... and it was now very obvious that that notion was reciprocated. The Slayer indeed cherished him, perhaps even moreso than The Guide could have imagined. He chuckled and murmured aloud.

"...shh, shh. Heh, you're a bit of a baby, aren't you?"

"Guide?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

The Terrarian shifted against him, jabbing the horn of his helmet squarely into The Guide's collarbone.

"Don't... don't die again."

"Don't worry, I won't."

The Terrarian was crying, but The Guide was smiling. He was bursting with happiness and relief. He pressed his lips against the smooth dome of the helmet. He grabbed hold of the armored torso and squeezed as hard as he could, knowing his meagre strength wouldn't do a thing to the monstrously powerful half-terrarian. He chuckled and offered encouragements and patted his head and sighed when there was no sign The Terrarian would let him go.

What a day...

What a ridiculous day.

In the morning he'd nearly been thrown into eternal torment, eaten by The Wall. In the afternoon, he was brought back to life by The Dryad - who cheerfully informed him that her race was at fault for his family's plights! (how insulting!). Now, in the evening - just as he was quite ready to throw an entire infantile tantrum, The Slayer - his infant - had kicked down his front door, ready for battle.

In a single day, he'd been more terrified than he'd ever been in his life. Today, he'd been angrier than he'd ever felt in these twenty-six waking years... and he'd never been happier than he was at this moment.

...

And now...

Now, he was tired.

So tired he wanted to drop.

If The Dryad was to be believed (and he did believe her) tonight would be the first night he'd sleep uninterrupted by The Wall's eldritch ministrations. His body was eager for rest, his mind was eager to slip into unconsciousness.

Even so, The Terrarian had yet to spend his tears, and The Guide was determined to hold him in his arms for as long as he required.

And something in the back of his mind told him he might not sleep tonight.

Cold white tubes, flickering in the darkness.

They cast a pale, deathly light. I shrink and tremble from it. The Cold white light. The cold water around me. The light is cold. Flickering in the darkness. The pale light, deathly. The deathly pale water, flickering in the cold.

...

...

Porcelain, hard beneath me. White porcelain. Beneath my feet. Hard under my feet-...

...

...

What am I doing?

A small voice questions me as I lay there, cringing under the cold white light, the porcelain hard beneath me, cold water surrounding me, enveloping me, seeping into me. Cold. The Cold white... The...

What's wrong with me?

I shrink further, submerging myself up to the bridge of my nose. I'm not sure what's safer, the cold hollow air above, or the cold icy water beneath. I don't know. I have no idea. My brain is a fog. I can't think. I can't concentrate. I shiver uncontrollably. It's cold, so I shiver in the cold. When it's hot, I shiver in the heat. I stare down through the water at my feet. I open my eyes as wide as they go, and I don't even dare to blink...

B-because I see them.

In the corner of my eyes.

Even if My Teacher says its impossible, what can I do? Can I believe him before I believe my eyes? I see them!

The Worms.

They've followed me here. They're always at the edge of my vision. When I look away, I can sense them. Blood red Crimson in my peripheral. Squirming roiling worms that disappear the moment I flinch to look. The cold, hard tiles outside of the porcelain tub... when I turn away, they becomes fleshy land. I'm sure of it.

I stare at my feet, trying to look at all of myself at the same time. The worms don't appear on what I stare at. I... I won't let them touch me again. I won't let them kill me again. I need to stare at myself so the worms don't appear on me. If I don't... if I don't... that makes no sense! What the hell is wrong with me?!

A steady dripping from the faucet.

Cold water hitting cold water. If I look away, the water becomes blood. It becomes ichor. It becomes gastric acids. I tremble. My body remembers. I remember the burning acid which ate through my skin, then my muscle, then bone - turning my limbs to jelly and exposing my innards to the stinking air. I remember the predatory ground which opened it mouth to receive my blood, greedily lapping up my entrails like an ever ravenous beast. I remember the pain of being torn asunder, my limbs twisted from my body. My jaw snapped off my face, my tongue flapping free, my pelvis wrenched loose, the weight hanging only by the thread of spinal cord. I can still feel the sensation of my skull bursting like an overripe melon. I can clearly remember when I watched my lungs being torn from beneath my ribcage. The sound of my own screams... they're all I can hear! Its so clear in my mind, as if I'm still there! I can see it! I-

drip... drip...

I shudder and dare not blink. My eyes are dry, they sting and ache and strain. Tears pool at the corners of my eyes - but I dare not blink. The moment I look away, worms will burst from under my skin. Big ones, little ones. They'll rupture me from within like they've done so many, many times. I know they're under my skin, I know they're waiting for me to look away so they can devour me. I'm sure of it.

What am I thinking!

The fluorescent lamps whine, a low droning buzz which digs into my ears and eats into my brain. I feel the noise festering behind my eyes. The drone, that drone. I must focus I dare not blink, lest the worms burst from within me to devou-

knock... knock*

A sharp rapping at the door! I instinctively turn to look. As I do, my jittery gaze flits across the mirror embedded in the wall opposite. It was only a brief moment, but I know what I saw. I saw it, I saw it. My own face, my face that I look at day in and day out... my left eye socket had been gnawed out. I saw my optic nerve dangling on my cheek, it was spindly and gray. I saw a damned worm, bright red and covered in serrating teeth, flop out and smack against my nose before falling into the bloody water beneath.

I clutch my face and scream. I convulse and am inexplicitly plunged beneath the icy pool of inky red blood. I see them! I hear them! The Worms sliding across the floor towards me, that shadow looming over me as I thrash about underwater. Hand shaped tendrils reach down and seizes me by the wrist, I scream, but no sound comes out. My lungs fill with icy fluid and I begin to drown. I feel it. I know it. I brace myself... because-

Because I'm going to die.

I'm going to die again! I'm going back to The Crimson. I'm going back to be with The Worms. I'm going to die. I'm going to di-

"Hero, He..." *splash* "Hero, what in tarnation has gotten into you!"

I claw at the air. I retch and sputter. I tremble violently. My eyes are crossed and darkness creeps across my vision... My Teacher is holding my by the wrist, lifting me effortlessly out of the water. I can't see his face, but I know he's disappointed... I-I can't disappoint him. If I disappoint him, he'll return me to The Crimson! I-

His voice is hard. It echoes in the cold, hollow air and interrupts my spiraling monologue.

"Hero, you've been in here for four hours. Get up."

I have nothing to say to him. I have no response. Has it been four hours? I have no idea. I can't focus. I can't think. I know he's unhappy, but I'm terribly glad he's here. He says The Worms aren't real... he can't see what I see, but I would rather be with him than alone. The Worms, maybe they will stay away? Perhaps he will keep The Crimson away. He took me out of The Crimson once, He defeated The Worms. Surely he can do so again. Yes, My Teacher can protect me...

I cling to the sides of the tub to cough the liquid out of my lungs. It had turned from blood back to water. At the same time, My Teacher lets go of my wrist and huffs. He turns to leave and I panic immediately. I choke out the words as he steps out the door.

"T-Teacher! Wait, Don't go! Don't leave me alone! Let me come with you!"

I fix my eyes on him, and as I do, I am aware of the landscape in my peripheral vision turning red. I sense a tall figure looming behind me. It's dread incarnate. It's made of Worms. It's made of terror. It fills my chest with ice... but if My Teacher is here, then everything will be okay. I just need to stay with him. I just need him to-

My Teacher turns to look at me. His gaze hasn't softened. His posture is annoyed. He shakes his head sternly and my guts twist around like snakes, like worms they're inside me! I can feel them!

Liquid despair runs hot down my face. The figure looms behind me, my bloody malevolent shadow - always perpetually living behind me. I want to vomit, but there are worms in my throat, clogging the passage and holding me rigid. I stare at My Teacher's back, silently begging him not to leave me. Not to abandon me here to wrestle with my terrors alone.

But he will not stay. He has no pity for me. I have become obnoxious to him. His words cut like daggers.

"Dress yourself. Make yourself presentable. I expect to find you in The Library in half an hour."

Then, the door closed with a click.

And once again, I'm alone with The Worms.

Guide: Come here, hug.

Slayer: Okay *hugs*

G*dodges getting stabbed in the face by the helmet's horns*

Hero: *sobbing in the bathtub and wishing somebody would hug him*

Faze my darling... ,-) poor child. He's got... a lot of trauma. Like, a lot. But then again, me and Story Comrade unofficially determined he had died 1408 times in The Crimson. I don't its unreasonable for him to have that lvl 10 PTSD. Also a note: It was in like a tiny mention, but The Nurse said Slayer has only 10% of he sensory nerves from the eyebrows down (which is why he was absolutely terrified of the concept of brain surgery, but not so much the rest). The Hero doesn't lack anything... although as a Terrarian he deffo is able to fight through the pain in the midst of battle.

You Thought Faze was in such an advantageous position when he first appeared, huh? (ch 72 iirc) but he's been stripped down to nothing... and there is nobody who will stand with him.

F in the chat for Faze

Also Guide in chapter... like 30 or something (I forget where, I just know I wrote it) was getting mad at The Slayer because he was mad at Ammy or something, and says 'What do you want, a hug and a kiss?' Well now here he is, doing the whole hug and kiss XD.

Leave review. tks