And now, the start of a new arc. I never thought I would get this far. -claps happily-

Enjoy!

The three silently walked through a long, wide tunnel, the Horseman and Angel trailing behind the Maker as he lead the way. The silence is heavy, noticeable even to a dimwit. The Maker isn't certain what exactly he could say to lighten the mood. If it could be eased at all, from what he could tell.

The moment he returned from examining the tunnel and clearing it out, he knew something had happened. The Horseman's fake hand going limp (with small sparks) and the angel mostly non-responsive and looked as if the life was sucked out of her. Honestly, he didn't want to leave the young human around the angel, as they can be pretentious, self-righteous pricks at the best of times. And he was somewhat worried about the Horseman doing something or anything to the young human, but so far he was surprised at how the Red Rider didn't do anything to the young human at all.

If he didn't know better, the Maker would say that the Horseman is…protective of the human.

Finally, the silence had started to get to him, and anything to alleviate the gloomy atmosphere, the Maker spoke up. "So, anything to share, Horseman?" There's no point in feigning ignorance at this point; the Red Rider had proven that he is a Horseman more times over during all of this.

There was silence, and the Maker didn't expect to get an answer, so he was caught off guard when the Horseman himself answered, "The boy is a Mystic."

At that, the Maker couldn't help but to look at the Horseman in surprise, his blue eyes shifting to the young child slung over the Red Rider's shoulder (and he could see that the angel was also staring at the Horseman in surprise). After what he had heard sank in, suddenly, it all made sense now. He hadn't heard of the term the first set of humans created since the culling of the Nephilim. But he knew the term and what they could do. And why they went into hiding in the first place, to keep themselves away from demons and Nephilim alike. The pieces from hours before filled in within the Maker's head. The sudden urgency to find the human after talking with Dis, why the Horseman was protective. The boy is a Mystic, and if any demon, and especially the Griever, were to get at LEAST a taste…

"Huh," he breathed out in surprise. "You don't say…"

"…Why did that demon not say so?" he heard the angel mutter to herself.

"She did not know until she saw the Keyblade," the Horseman explained. "You could not tell until they exhibit a power or if the relics associated with them are active. She had her suspicions but, as I said, she did not know until she saw the weapon herself and pieced it together."

Ulthane grunted before he turned his head to face forward. "That explains a lot."

Even though it explained why the Horseman was in a hurry to get to the young human, a few things didn't add up. A lot of people in Creation had assumed the Mystics had gone extinct themselves, a decade before the pact was forged. No one had seen hide nor hair of them, nor of the relics they had. They were half-advanced due to the powers they have but are still rather fragile despite it all. And as the Horseman pointed out, it's hard to tell among humans who is a Mystic sub-class and who is a regular human – at least, it was somewhat easy at first, because the Mystics look like modern humans after going through thousands of years of evolution, losing their follicles in their skin, and their jaws not being robust like the first set, the latter being more ape-like than the homo sapiens they are now. There were many of them, in different shapes and sizes, the second set of humans. Yet, no one had seen the Mystics to know what they looked like. As the second set evolved, however, it would have been easy for the Mystics to blend in perfectly. Again, they had not been seen since most of the Nephilim were wiped out.

On the other hand, with the appearance of the boy, who has unique powers and apparently a relic on him – he was certain he hadn't seen it before he went off to confront the intruders to his home – and is from outside of the world…does this imply that the Mystics simply left the world and lived among other worlds beyond? That's one possible theory, but…if that were the case, how did the boy slip through the barrier? It would have been thousands of years, and the Mystic bloodline would have dwindled. Then again, he did hear that they go into a type of sleep where they freeze their bodies and wake up far into the future…

The Maker grimaced. Gah, the more he thinks about it, the more it gives him a headache. For now, it has been a VERY long day. While Makers don't need sleep often, he is mentally and physically fatigued. And from the looks of it, so are the Horseman and the angel, despite the Horseman's infamous stamina. Though, physical stamina is different from mental stamina.

And the human would need a good rest to recover his own strength and break through the magic overdose induced fever, as the Horseman had said the human is suffering from. He had heard of it being a thing but didn't think to see it himself. Especially on a face so young.

After a good while, with their footsteps echoing around them, they finally reached the exit. "All right, here we are," the Maker announced. He approached the door and with a grunt, wretched it open to the side, the circular doors rolling away. Soft rays of the sun peered down, the Maker's eyes squinting through the sudden light as he stepped out.

The rolls of he waves is what he heard as he stepped out further. He inhaled deeply through his nose and then exhaled through his mouth. Finally, some fresh air. Been in the caves and the subway for so damn long, the fresh air is a welcoming thing. Looking up though, he grimaced. They had been in the place for several hours and even through the night. It's daybreak now.

Once he was certain that the other two had exited themselves, Ulthane closed the doors behind them. No need for any 'surprises' hitting his backyard, now does he?

"O'right," he announced, "Horseman, take the lad with you. We're heading to my place."

It's the safest place for the young human to rest for the time being. Not only that…he casted a glance at the lame arm of the Horseman's. "…You also look like you need that repaired too."

The Horseman, after staring out towards the horizon for a while, turned his head to cast a suspicious glance to him. "Why are you offering?" He questioned, and if he were a dog, his hackles would be raised.

Ulthane shrugged, not threatened in the slightest. "A'right, if you want to go out with a lame arm, I ain't stoppin' you," he said. "But the human needs rest, and my abode is safe at least."

The Horseman gave a disgruntled grunt. And, as if it greatly pained him, the Nephilim turned to head towards the Maker. "Fine," he grunted.

The Maker nodded before turning his gaze to the angel. "So, how about you, lass?" He called out.

She only turned her head slightly to him. "…I will return to the Hellguard," she said loudly. "I had been away for too long." The pack on her back glowed a soft blue, before in a burst of energy, her wings materialized. With a strong beat of her wings, she raised her head to look up. "…You live this time, Horseman." She crouched and with a strong burst of speed from the pack, she flew high into the air and then shot off into a direction.

Ulthane watched her grow, grunting boredly. "Ya think she would get a sense of humor," he stated. He shook his head. As the humans say, not his monkeys, not his circus (though he was certain he got the phrase wrong, but he got the general term). He made a beckoning motion towards the Horseman to follow. "Let's go, Horseman."

The two carefully made their way through the path, hearing the calls of the gulls overhead. This is nearest to the now created sea that now engulfs most of the city the humans had lived in. A lot of fish had migrated due to the changes, and demon fish couldn't live in salt water. While the view is fantastic, it does have a good vantage point to make sure no demons would attempt to scale the cliff to sneak in. Not that he would let them.

It wasn't long until Ulthane led the Horseman towards the door. He opened the door to let the Horseman through before he followed after, closing it behind him. The Maker soon led the Horseman towards a certain room he had previously placed the boy within, opening the door to examine the room a little. He did some renovations to the room, adding a glass ceiling overhead to let in natural light, compared to the lanterns he had placed in there previously. He had planned to make the room into a plant nursery but never got around to it until a while back.

Ulthane went ahead to make the bedding for the human as he did previously, the Horseman – as much as he could with one arm – placing the human down gently while Ulthane removed the shoes and jacket, placing the Keyblade against the wall and the bag near it. The Maker furrowed his brows before resting the back of his large finger over the boy's forehead. He grimaced when he felt the heat. "Stay here," he told the Horseman and left the room without hearing the Nephilim's answer.

He got a few things, like a cup, a rag and filled the cup and a bucket with cool water. With those collected, the Maker returned to the room. The Horseman had not left the young lad, though the Maker isn't all that surprised.

He damped the rag to place it over the human's forehead. He felt the Horseman's eyes on him as he tended to the human, helping the boy drink some water in his state, before pulling the sheet he had gotten over him. "All right," the Maker said in a lowered voice, "We just need to keep an eye on him for a while until he wakes up. Humans could get sick for a while, so it's all on him."

He only heard the Horseman grunt lowly at that.

Ulthane's eyes shifted between the Horseman and the human before he rose to his feet. "C'mon. Let's let him rest a bit," he suggested before he headed towards the door.

Entering the kitchen, Ulthane groaned as he sank into the chair, the tension leaving his body. He honestly did not expect the events of yesterday to go as they did, but…thank the Stonemaker that it's over. For now, at least.

His pointed ears picked up on heavy footsteps, Ulthane opening his eye to see the Horseman entering the room himself. His other eye opened as he stared at the Horseman in surprise. The Horseman looked around a little, as if uncertain on what to do now, or he is letting his curiosity show. Ulthane opts for the former, waving his hand to gesture at another chair. The Horseman takes it, having received permission. At least for now the Horseman is acting like a good house guest.

Though, now as it's just the two of them, the Maker is certain that the Horseman has a lot of questions for him. After all, he didn't miss the way the Horseman gave him looks when they had met hours before, and of the silent gaze at him as they went through the caverns to find the human. Yet, the Horseman didn't bother to interrogate him now. He has the opportunity. Unless…

Ulthane placed his elbow onto the table, resting his cheek onto his knuckles. "So…a Mystic of all things," he began. "I dunno if it's bad luck or something that the lad ended up here."

Observing the Horseman, the latter gave a grunt. "Indeed," He agreed, knowing exactly who Ulthane was talking about. "It would be a matter of 'when', not 'if' the demons catch on to what he is."

The Maker nodded wordlessly. "…The boy shouldn't stay here for too long. Him being an Outsider would give nasty ideas to both kingdoms, if more found out about it."

The more 'righteous' of angels would have the boy executed to prevent the demons from getting their hands on the boy, regardless of if he is innocent or not, while the more arrogant ones would try to take the chance to get more materials and such to settle their hatred of demonkind.

Most demons would want to feast on the boy's innards and drink his blood, but he could name a couple of power-hungry ones that would want the human alive to get through, while also having a taste of his blood to get an advantage in Hell. The most powerful ones would use him as an energy source if they so desire.

Both sides would be a danger to the young human, and only a select handful now knows the boy is a Mystic. If both sides found out…

Ulthane's face pulled back into a grimace at the thoughts. "I mean," he continued, "at the end o' the day…the lad's innocent."

"Yes," the Horseman silently agreed, "he is."

Ulthane sighed heavily. "We'll have to keep him safe for a while, until we figure out how to get him home," he said. "That'll take a while though. It's better to make sure he CAN get home than to leave him stuck here." The Horseman grunted. 'Well, ain't he a pleasant conversationalist,' Ulthane thought sarcastically. He sighed heavily through his nose. "Well, the offer still stands." When the Horseman raised his head to give him a dubious look, Ulthane gestured to him. "I know that you are a fierce warrior, but surely you can't think to take on Hell's army on Earth with one arm. Besides…think of it as payment for keeping the lad safe." He gave a one arm shrug, finishing with, "It's the least I could do."

He could make out a frown under the hood, the Horseman sitting there in silence. He just stared back, unafraid.

After a good stretch of silence, the Horseman's shoulders sagged as he sighed. He twists his body to his left arm, managing to put it onto the table. Lifting his right arm, he hits the skull on the back of the hand. And spawning out is…Ulthane stared in surprise as a smaller prosthetic formed. The Horseman takes it out of the air- and the left arm had finally gave up the ghost as it ceased sparking.

"Uh…" Ulthane started before he stood up. "Hang on." He approached the Horseman's side and pausing a moment. The Horseman nodded, giving the Maker permission, so Ulthane grabs the arm at the starting point. He felt around for the release mechanism before he pressed it. He detached it from the mechanical stump it was attached to, cradling it in his hands before he watched the Horseman attach the other arm. Eyes trailing over it, Ulthane noted that it seems to be an older model. Not as thick as the current one, with parts of it a faded gold. Rather, it was slimmer, and looked more like an arm than the one in the Maker's hands now.

A part of the Maker is curious with why the Horseman kept the older model for a long while. Though, as much as he wanted to ask, it isn't (and wasn't) his place. The Horsemen's lives are as private as anyone else's. And whatever issues the Red Rider has, he didn't want to get involved.

The Horseman soon turned and got off the chair. Rolling his shoulders, the Horseman turned but paused. "Thank you," the Horseman began suddenly. "For allowing the two of us to remain here."

Ulthane didn't respond, surprised at what he just heard, but the Horseman wasn't expecting an answer, proceeding to leave the room.

He raised a red eyebrow at that. "Well," he began lowly. "That went well." He regarded the large arm in his hands.

Well, his other project is almost finished. By estimation, it might take him a couple of weeks to have it fully repaired.

Plus, it would hold off on the inevitable interrogation he knew would be coming. For a while.

The Maker sighed.

First though, a break. Then he'll get to work.

~o~

The Horseman went through the hall, towards the room the human is occupying. Arriving at the door, he raised his right hand slightly, pausing a little before he lightly pushed the door open. It softly squeaked as it opened, but thankfully, it didn't disturb the human as he rested in the small bed.

He watched the boy for a while, letting himself mull over what happened. He sighed through his nose at the unfortunate news. Samael will have to wait until he returns with the Griever's heart. It's stored in his other arm. Fortunately, it would be intact, with a variety of other things he carries with him. And it would not rot while within his gauntlet, nor stop beating. And if he knew the demon well, Samael is a rather patient one. In the meantime, however…

Slowly, War approached the young human, regarding him for a moment before he gave a sigh. Letting his guard down now, he started to slowly take apart his armor, starting with his pauldrons. As silently as he could, he laid them on the floor and near each other. He took his cloak off, feeling his long hair flow freely over his back before he folded it. Having placed it among the others, he finally leans Chaoseater against the wall before he turned to glance at the human. Silently, he approached the boy's side, kneeling down on one knee to examine him.

Faintly recalling something from long ago, he placed the back of his right hand onto his forehead, nudging the cloth aside to check his temperature. He frowned as the boy was still burning with a fever. The boy isn't panting as much, but it could change later. He removed his hand, moving the cloth back in place before noting that it had gone dry.

He damps the cloth again before replacing the cool rag on the boy's forehead. His fingers slowly moved away from the boy.

("Aw, geez," she muttered after removing her forehead from his own. "You were with a fever for HOW long?"

His eyes narrowed at her, bristling at her being that close to him. Yet, he was angry at himself for letting himself fall ill with a fever. "I did not ask you for your input," he muttered.

"Well, too bad," she retorted with a huff. She grabbed him by the finger. "Okay, that's it, into the bed you go, buster."

"Wha-" caught off guard by her forcefulness, he found himself surprised by her strength (or the fever had made his body weak). He tried to regain his composure as she practically dragged him to her room, shaking his head, "You do not need to-"

"I ain't hearing that," she cut him off, leading him to the human sized bed. She points at it. "In bed. Now."

He felt himself bristle at the order. "Why would I listen to you?" He felt offended by her audacity. "I do not need rest."

"I don't care. You're sick! I didn't know you guys COULD get sick, but here you are! So," she moved to the side and tried to push him to the bed, grunting, "Get. In. Bed!"

He narrowed his eyes and frowned in disdain. "You cannot be serious," he uttered. "I could not fit in your bed. And I do not need rest or anything. So just-" she raised her head and he cut himself off, surprised at the expression she was making at him. He isn't sure if she was…mad? She looked mad, but her eyes seemed determined. It was her eyes that caught him off guard the most.

She pushed herself away and off of him, before pointing at the bed. "Sit," she commanded. And he couldn't help but obey, as he slowly sat down onto the bed. It creaked in protest to his weight, but it was a mattress surrounded by frames, not being supported by the beams. The woman crossed her arms, regarding him. "All right. Take off your armor and lay down. I'll be right back." She didn't give him time to answer before she turned to leave the room. He just watched her go, and when she disappeared behind the door frame, his stare lingered on the floor.

What…what just happened? He questioned himself.

Why was she…earnest? In helping him? Are the first set like this? Or just her?

A lot of questions flowed through his mind, trying to rationalize what happened. His eyes lowered to his legs; at the armor he had. And…just sighed. He had to concede defeat. His body felt sore, and this is a different type of heat he felt. He barely remembered ever being sick, other than trying to overpower the poison he let himself have to build up an immunity (to his caretaker's stress and terror). Yet, he figured he knew why he felt this way. The stress of worrying about the group he had deserted finding him had plagued him. It ate at him day by day, until it all caught up to him at this very day. And it had to happen around that strange woman of all people.

Before he could drown in his thoughts, his mind almost wandering away, he refocused before he slowly took his armor off. Once those were off, he looked to the bed before he slowly eased himself down to lay across it. A soft sigh left his lips. He didn't realize how much his body needed it. He turned to the side and curled up slightly, feeling his energy leave him. Maybe…it'll be all right if he let his eyes rest. That sounds enticing. He let his eyes close.

And in the next moment, he blinked as she was suddenly by his side, and the room was a little darker. "Hey, sleeping beauty," she joked lightly. "Your fever isn't all that bad, but you'll have to rest a bit more."

He lay there, befuddled. He didn't realize he had gone to sleep. He didn't register something presented to him for a moment until he realized it was a cup. "Think you can drink?" She asked him. "Just some soup."

The Nephilim stared at it blankly. His eyes shifted up to her face, and back at it. Slowly, he pushed himself up. He isn't weak, but he still felt awful. Slowly, he takes the cup from her, staring at the contents. The broth is a soft yellow with some bits in it, some steam emitting from the top. He took a tentative sip, but slightly jerked at the scalding liquid. Ugh! Stupid!

The woman snorted, and he fixed her with a glare before he tried again, this time gently blowing on it before he sips again. The soup pleasantly went down his throat. And though it's bland, it isn't so bad. He lowered the cup, where the woman gently takes it from him.

"Okay. Don't know if chicken noodle soup can help, but it's a start," the woman determined. "Your fever broke a few hours ago, but you'll stay in the bed until you get a clean bill of health."

He grunted. He isn't happy about this, but…better to be healthy than to be sick. He felt ashamed of himself to let himself get sick like this. The corner of his lip turned downward, before he gazed at the woman. "Why?"

"Huh?" She responded intelligently, blinking.

He grimaced. He isn't the best at voicing out his thoughts. Never had. Yet…he just had to know. "Just…why are you going out of your way to take care of me?" he questioned. "Even if it had been months, we are still strangers. What do you hope to gain from this?"

She stared at him, blinking a couple of times. She tilted her head. "Uh…because I want to?" She answered.

Now he's the one staring at her in confusion. "What?"

"I mean…" she shrugged helplessly, "Yeah. You're right that we didn't know each other long. But I can't just ignore someone and let them suffer. Besides, when was the last time you took care of yourself, hm?" She picked up the cloth that fell off him, placing the mug onto a table near them before she dipped it into a small basin. She wrings it out a few times. "Here." She placed it behind the back of his neck, and he felt his spine shiver at the cold. "Placing it there also helps cool you down." She lightly nudged his body, not as an order but a suggestion to lay down. "I don't know how sickness works with the Nephilim, and I don't know if this can help but…better than nothing." The woman's blue eyes gazed at him. "I mean, even if you and I aren't of the same race, you deserve to have at least this much." She gave a warm smile at him.

He could only stare at her in stunned surprise.

(For some reason, his heart fluttered strangely.)

He felt his cheeks heat up. "…I may be sicker than I thought," he announced, before easing himself down. "I'll rest a little longer."

"Well, all right," she accepted his bluff easily. "Night, big guy.")

His hand curled away from the boy's face, frozen. The Horseman leans away from the boy, staring down at his right hand. His eyes shifted between his hand and the boy. After a moment, he exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why…" he began softly to the still snoozing boy, "why do you remind me so much of her…?"

~o~

The area around him is pitch black. He couldn't even see his own nose. The boy looked around warily. Where…where is everything? Why is it so dark?

The first instinct is to call out, hoping to at least hear someone. Yet he thought it was better not to do that. He wanted to move, yet his legs felt like lead. His chest burns as his heart thrums at a fast rate, trying desperately to control his breathing. Finally, he managed to take a step. And then another. His breath felt shaky, trying to see anything.

What is going on? Why is he just in a dark place?

He soon felt his body brush against something, making him jump. His hands reached out, feeling a wall. But it was curved a little. Backing away, he moved towards a different direction. Only to brush against another wall. Feeling his blood freeze, he used is hands to feel around the wall, following it around. Doing so only confirmed what he feared after a short while. He's trapped in a circular room. There is no light. And no way out.

But…why?

Suddenly, he saw a variety of 'eyes' appearing. Very familiar looking eyes. "Liar."

Sora took a step back. "What?" He accidentally let out.

"You are as worst as the others. Lying to a lot of people," a voice hissed.

Sora tensed. "I…! I just… I can't just tell them that there are other worlds out there!" He tried to defend himself.

"No excuse!" A voice barked. "You have no right to be here! A tainted blood like yours!"

Sora's hand curled around his forearm. What…are they talking about? Tainted blood? Why do they always mention it? "I…don't know what you're talking about."

"Your birth is a sin!"

"GET OUT!"

"LEAVE!"

Sora covered his ears as more and more vile words were thrown at him, trying to block them out. His legs felt weak. Even if he shut his eyes, it won't do him any good. "Leave me alone!" He exclaimed in anguish. "Please…!"

Yet his pleas were unanswered, as the voices somehow got louder, slinging derogatory words and verbal abuse at him. The guilt trying to bury him. He so badly wanted to say 'sorry', to apologize, yet he couldn't get his mouth to work. He just wanted them to stop!

Suddenly, as if the eyes gave some light, a pitch-black pool appeared under his feet. His hands moved from his ears, looking around in shock. "Wha…? What's going on?"

He felt something grab him by the legs, and started to pull him into it, hearing himself cry out! (This feels familiar.) He felt what felt like a lot of hands trying to pull him under, bounding his arms. He struggled out of the hold in desperation, his waist under the pool. By the time he freed his right arm, he was already up to his chest. He could only scream as he reached out in vain.

(Someone, save him! Please!)

…And then, just before his hand was submerged, he felt someone grasp his hand. He felt himself gently pulled out, his eyes squinting against a bright light suddenly. The area around him brightened up, with the 'eyes' and the pool fading away. In the light, he saw his savior. Yet the intense light they radiated made it hard for him to identify; but he could make out long robes, long feathered wings and an ornament behind the head. Yet the wings are a dead giveaway – it was an angel that saved him.

Sora stared up in surprise. "Who are you…?" He questioned.

"…all right, child?" He could barely hear the angel speak, but some words did slip through.

Sora just nodded. "Y-Yeah, I am."

The angel regarded him. "Are you…Outsider?"

The boy froze at the question…yet his body slumped. How many times could he lie? And…he didn't want to lie to another person. He's scared of how they'll react, though. "Y...Yeah. I am. I'm an Outsider."

The human could barely make out a surprised expression before the angel composed himself. "Come…Black Tower," the angel urged, having Sora's head look up at him in shock. "That is…where I am. I can send you home."

Sora stared in surprise. He jumped to his feet. "Wait! You can do what?" Yet the angel's body began to fade away. "H-Hey!" He reached out. "Uh- you said Black Tower, right? That's where you are? Okay! I'll meet you there! I promise!"

The angel faded away completely, and as he did, the dream also began to fade…

~o~

Everything is mostly silent within the Black Tower. Always has been since he was placed within the walls nearly ninety years ago. Taken against his will to channel the power of the Well of Souls into the tower, empowering the Destroyer. The seal had kept him bound within its circle. He could not leave, nor use his powers to liberate himself. Yet, there are SOME powers he could utilize.

He was able to 'sense' something and utilized astral projection to the source. Imagine his surprise that it was something so young he had sensed some days ago near the base of the tower. Once he felt his soul returning to his body, the angel opened his eyes, before sighing heavily. He had managed to help the young child from his own nightmare. Though…he didn't want to give the boy false hope…not as he is. He did not want to use the young human to free him, nor risk their life to reach the tower itself. It was a selfish request at the end of the day.

And yet, no matter what the child is, he is an innocent. He could only hope that the boy survives long enough so that he could at least save the life of one person – at least, ONE person, before he faces his judgement. It would not erase the grave sin he had committed. He knew it would not.

After all that happened, he deserves what will befall him.

Sighing silently to himself, Azrael closed his eyes again.

~o~

…When Sora came to, he felt he was on something soft. He felt something on his forehead that felt a little crusty. There was a little light against his eyelids. He peeled his eyes open, fluttering them open. A stone ceiling greeted him, with the area a little brighter. The ceiling seems familiar to him for some reason, yet for the life of him, he couldn't remember 'why'. He didn't remember when he had fallen asleep, or even found a bed. Not to mention, he felt clammy. What on earth had happened? He asked himself, removing the cloth from his forehead. He let out a muffled groan, feeling yucky. Did he get sick? He felt terrible, his body sore, he had a headache… When did he get sick?

"So you have awakened," a man's voice spoke up, loudly and yet not. He made a face as it did not help his headache. Who exactly was that? It was familiar, but why? He couldn't think straight. He turned his head to the source. He saw, leaning against the wall, a man with a black leather top with black sleeves, black pants and furred boots. He is heavily muscled, with long silver hair and very, very pale blue eyes. Sora stared at him for a while. He seemed familiar. The boy pushed himself up, squinting his eyes at the man, trying to make his mind work. The man soon moved from the wall, pushing himself up before approaching him. Sora was startled at how he towered over himself, before the man knelt, using the back of his right hand to feel his forehead. After a moment, the man grunted. "It has gone down, but you are still warm."

Sora made a confused noise, his eyes searching…until they landed on the man's left arm. It looked metallic, with bits of bronze on it, having a skull on the back of the hand. Yet it was odd. Shouldn't it be bigger…?

No sooner did he think it, did he fully recognize the man. The boy stared at the man in surprise. "Wait…War?" He asked in surprise. The man removed his hand, nodding with a grunt. "This…this is you? Huh." He did not expect that this is what the Horseman would look like without the hood and the armor. Not to mention, the Horseman's eyes did not glow at all, and was able to see his eyes plainly. This was…an unexpected surprise to the boy.

The man got onto his knees fully. "I suppose you are recovering from the effects of magic overdose," he took note. "You'll need to rest a little more until you are back to full strength."

Sora blinked. "Magic…overdose?"

"Magic users not used to using high powered magic often get 'overdosed' with magic power," War calmly explained, snatching the rag from the boy to toss into the bucket nearby. "In most cases, they fall into a coma if used too much and too soon. Very rarely would they recover and wake up from it." He pushed his finger into the bucket before grabbing the rag to squeeze the water out with his hand. "You were lucky it didn't come to that, and your body is already used to SOME type of magic. It would, however, cause a little internal injury and sickness, like a fever."

Sora blinked. That…could happen? And it makes you sick? But…how did…?

That was when disjointed memory slithered out of the mental fog. Almost everything hit him.

The Hollows. The Griever. The deadly fight. And everything else that lead up to…

Sora jumped in shock. "Uriel!" he cried out. He tried to look around for the female angel, quickly asking, "Where is she? Is she-" Before he could panic further and try to get up, he was suddenly slapped with something wet behind his neck, stopping him cold in his tracks as his back shivered, making a face at the unpleasant feeling.

"At ease," War's tone sounded as if he was scolding the boy. "She is fine. She returned to the Hellguard."

Once the shock and the unexpected cold had worn off, Sora stared at him in surprise. "Wait, really?"

"Yes. You saved her in time. Yet doing that caused you to end up in this state."

Oh, so that made a lot of sense, the boy thought. "Oh," Sora let out. "Right." He exhaled, relief flooding his system. "That's good. She's okay at least."

The Horseman grunted. But Sora didn't mind one bit. He's gotten used to how the Horseman responds at this point.

Sora soon looked around the room, recognizing it as the room he had stayed in when he first met Ulthane before he left. Though he noticed that there was a glass ceiling overhead, letting sunlight through. Which is a welcome change, compared to the dimly lit room he had gotten used to. "So…how long was I out?"

"It is the afternoon," War answered. "We did not leave the Hollows until it was daybreak."

Sora gawked in shock. He was out for several hours!? And they were in that place for the whole day, through the night? ? At that, his stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. He felt his cheeks warm. He remembered that he hadn't eaten anything in a while. But he's sick of apples…

The boy blinked as he noticed a wooden bowl presented to him. Steam wafts off from it, with a spoon sticking out. The contents look to have some meat and vegetables. He rose his head to see that the Horseman held out the bowl to the boy. Sora stared down at it, before realizing that the Red Rider had gotten him food. "Oh." He takes the bowl, "Thank you." He sniffs it a little before he takes the spoon to scope the contents. After a he took a bite, his eyes lit up. It's beef stew that Ulthane made once!

He made a happy noise, wiggling a little before he took another bite. He yelped, slurping and trying to blow in his mouth to cool the food. He resumed eating, going at his own pace now, blowing at his food before eating it. Sora soon sat up straight. "So whe are, phwat, staying hhere?" he asked with his mouth full

He noticed the wince the Horseman made, swallowing his food. He took another bite, the Horseman making an exasperated sigh. "For the time being, yes," War answered. He raised his left arm to examine it. "I need my other arm to be repaired until then."

Sora sputtered and coughed a little. "Other arm?" he repeated in a rasp before he coughed. He noticed a cup presented to him, which he snatched and guzzled about half of it. He panted. "What other arm?" He asked.

The man's left white eyebrow rose a little. "So you did not notice?"

"Uh…" Sora droned out.

The man rolled his eyes a little. He lifted his left arm. "This is a prosthetic. I had lost my arm a long time ago and had been using a prosthetic. This is the first model. The one I had when we first met is the current one."

At that, Sora stared in surprise. His left arm is fake? Yet, thinking more about it, Dis had mentioned it. He had thought it was his actual arm that was heavily armored. "Really?" he asked in surprise. He stuttered a little. "I thought it was just heavily armored! I'm sorry."

The Horseman merely waved it off. "I never told you, and I should not have assumed you would notice. We did not know each other long."

Sora was a little apprehensive about it, feeling a little guilty. Yet, he had no choice but to take the Horseman for his word, nodding slowly. "If you say so…"

"As I said," War began, "we are not in a hurry. Ulthane is repairing my main arm. So we will be staying here for the time being."

Sora's shoulders droop a little. "Oh." That's…well, that's fine he supposes. He hadn't fully rested in a good while, on the road and constantly being on his guard. He could appreciate the break he is given. Still though…there is War's goal. His eyes shifted a little, before he willed up the courage to ask, "Though, what about your goal? Aren't you supposed to take care of the Destroyer?"

War rolled his left shoulder. "My other arm has…let us say 'key' to get me to where I need to be. It's a source of the Destroyer's power. Once I dealt with that, he will be weak enough to deal with."

"Oh, really?" Sora tilted his head. "What's the source?"

"You saw it, haven't you? The black, floating tower. It's known as the Black Throne." At the two words, Sora's attention is immediately struck.

The Black Tower…that is the place the angel said is where he's at. And where the angel could help him leave the world. His main ticket to leaving this world is the building he was told to stay away from in the beginning. Honestly, it felt too good to be true. Yet, it felt like the only lead he had.

To think it's the same place the Horseman himself needed to go. Is this what irony is?

Sora hummed. "I see…" He nodded a little. Even if it IS ironic…he has a vital clue. And a new objective. Though, convincing the Horseman to let him travel with him to reach the tower will not be easy. The boy is certain the Council's Enforcer would refuse to let him travel together; on the other hand, he could not remain on the world forever. He has his own objective, his own goal. He has to return to his friends and deal with the Organization.

Until then, though, he would need to rest and recover.

Sora wiped his face. "Ugh, my face feels flaky." He pulled his left hand back to see small red flakes on them. "What IS this?

"The Maker mentioned that you were bleeding from your eyes and nose," the Horseman answered nonchalantly.

Sora stared in shock. "Wait, WHAT?!"

Okay, I had made an outline, so this arc would have at least eight chapters. That's the planned number of chapters and I got the initial ideas down, so I wouldn't go and try to add more stuff (though I kind of did with the War segment. It was entirely unplanned but…it fits a little). I'm in the process of making an outline of the Iron Canopy Arc. Not sure how many chapters I want for that arc, but it looks to be less than the others, but more than the Prologue Arc. Again, we'll have to wait and see. I spent days working on that outline, so I'm proud to say that I managed to get in what I initially wanted. After I get done with this set, I will work on the rest of that outline to get it done and over with. So…yay!

As for the magic overdose bit, I kind of wonder what would happen if a beginner magic user tried to use high powered magic the first chance they get. Trying to force it to work will NOT be pleasant, and at best, those mages end up in a coma before they can start their training properly, or some reckless, bullheaded user have that happen to them. In Sora's case, since he isn't used to his powers as a Mystic yet, with his saving grace that he has experience with magic, he ended up bleeding out of his eyes and nose. It'll put a mental strain on you, and it CAN make you bleed from the frontal area. Though don't worry, with time he will get a hang of it.

With that, Sora has his own goal now, and a reason to head to the Black Tower with War. He just needs to convince the Horseman to do so, however. But for now, he needs to rest and recover and to wait for War's other arm to be repaired. So look forward to the next chapter. I had it planned to be unique, so I will see you later. Leave a review if you can!