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A two-thousand pound bounty, Danitz thinks, half dread and half greed, If we screw this up, that money’s coming out of our own pockets!
Blurs of fire hasten under the cover of the night, their flames resembling the wings of ravens. Leaping over the gap of one building to the next, Danitz sprints along the edge of the roofs while glancing irregularly at the alley below just in time to see Anderson lunge toward the rogue Beyonder.
Crimson-white fire billows from his black blade. With a whistle of wind, it slices through a breath of empty air as the surrounding ground churns into a swamp, swallowing up the Beyonder.
Faced with the sudden escape, the two Hunters pause. Yet, not for long.
The downwind reaches their noses. Danitz leaps down from the roof, casting his Fire Ravens to crash into the ground of another alley’s mouth, launching both dirt and stone into the air. The ground sways, spitting out the Beyonder.
Cursing under their breath, the Beyonder takes off into a different alley. Two pairs of footsteps give chase. Prey runs from predator through the quiet night, twisting and turning, panting and cursing, but, finding no respite nor refuge within the various buildings, the Beyonder rushes out of the village and retreats into the nearby forest.
Following closely, Anderson and Danitz run under the cover of the trees only to pick up the stench of something burning. Their eyes adjust to the crimson-dyed darkness. Blending into the night, plumes of black gas race toward them.
Flames spark at Anderson’s fingertips, but before they can ignite, a voice bellows through the air, “Fire is prohibited here!”
The emerging flames die out.
Tensing at the approaching gas, Anderson takes a deep breath in and leaps up into the trees to escape its pursuit while Danitz activates his cloak, blending into the shadows.
Not far from them, the Beyonder quickly scans over the area as blood drips from their nose. In their hand rests a strange silver brooch. Unwilling to stay a second longer, the Beyonder turns on their heel and runs deeper into the darkness without looking back.
Or, at least, that is what they wanted to do.
Because they have not moved a meter. Even less so. The weight of planets presses down on their every muscle and nerve, dragging both their feet and thoughts through an endless marsh. Their eyes widen ever so slowly. The sense of dread takes its time to swallow their expression.
There… was… a… third… one? What… pathway?
Despair squeezes at their stomach. Clutching the brooch in their hand, the Beyonder’s vocal cords strain as they bite out with revulsion, “Concealment… is… prohibited… here!”
From the brooch, a golden light erupts, dispersing the darkness with the pulse of a heartbeat.
Only a few meters away, the air begins to shimmer.
Having borrowed Leymano’s Travels and some assistance from Ms. Justice, Gehrman Sparrow—or rather, Klein Moretti—senses the Judge’s command wash over him, dispelling the Psychological Invisibility. Yet with it washes away something else.
Klein freezes. His grasp on the Spirit Body Threads falters.
From the sidelines, Anderson and Danitz watch with widening eyes as Gehrman’s face peels away into a stranger's—like a magician pulling away their red cloth to reveal the trick underneath.
In the distance between them, they exchange the surprise within their gazes.
Neither party has enough time to comprehend this change.
That split second of opportunity is all the rogue Beyonder needs to send a flurry of vines at Klein, forcing the latter to leap aside and cast away his control on their Spirit Body Threads.
Gasping, the Beyonder staggers from the release. The tang of iron hangs on their tongue, dizziness shooting through their mind, and it is only through intuition that they manage to evade a lethal blow from a descending black sword. It snags their arm, splashing crimson. With a wave of their hand, another surge of vines shoots up from the earth, wrapping around Anderson’s ankles while Danitz dodges into the shadows once more.
With haste, the Beyonder echoes one single thought: I have to escape before the first prohibition wears off.
The ground beneath them begins to tremble.
Without pause, a dark glove shimmers into existence on Klein’s hand. The black fabric melts to a sickly green. With a sweep of his hand, ice blooms across the floor, spreading over the surface and freezing the freshly-made swamp.
The Beyonder’s expression crumbles. Thoughts spiraling with hopelessness and scorn, they bite through their bottom lip. Left with no other options, dark brown fur begins to sprout from flesh, layering over their skin like a coat. Their torso expands and swells. What follows in tandem are their head and limbs. The structure of their mouth extends into a snout, revealing a row of sharp, white teeth. They tear through their clothing, shredding it to pieces, as four pairs of lethal claws slam into the ground with a—
Bang!
The gunshot reverberates through the forest, ricocheting between the trunks of trees and dispersing into the night's cover.
Without much of a groan, the bear collapses onto its side. The tremor of their body hitting the earth overtakes the sound of a brooch dropping to the forest floor. Slowly, the Beyonder reverts into their human form.
Lowering the barrel of Death Knell, Klein drops his revolver to his side, sighs inwardly, and thinks, Isn't it common courtesy to wait until the opponent finishes their transformation before attacking? Before he takes a step toward the body, he watches for any signs of movement to ensure the Weakness Bullet has taken effect. Finding none, he begins controlling the Beyonder's Spirit Body Threads.
Two pairs of incredulous eyes watch him do so.
Slinking out of the shadows, Danitz leans in toward Anderson and asks under his breath, “That’s… Gehrman, right?”
Their gazes jump to the glove on Klein's hand. Then, to the black revolver in his possession.
“Probably,” Anderson says, narrowing his eyes, “Smells like him.”
“Why are you smelling Gehrman?” Danitz echoes, eyebrows furrowing.
“I'm a Hunter.” Anderson shrugs. He glances over and asks, “You haven’t?”
Danitz's jaw goes slack. “Well…” Shit—not on purpose. If Gehrman ever caught me actively smelling him, I think I'd get shot.
Like birdwatchers, they follow with their eyes as Klein walks toward the fallen Beyonder just as the latter stands up in an eerily smooth manner. Klein casts his gaze to the silver brooch on the floor. Taking a coin from his pocket, he flicks it into the air with a faint metal ring and catches it flat on the back of his hand. Satisfied with the result, Klein bends down to pick up the artifact.
“Arbiter Pathway?”
Glancing at the two approaching Hunters, Klein rises from his feet and nods. “Its abilities correspond to Sequence Six Judge.”
Four owl-like eyes stare at him.
Klein clears his throat. “...The Sealed Artifact is still in effect,” he explains.
I guess some abilities of my pathway—a Faceless’ shape-shifting and a Clown’s facial control—can be classified as a type of concealment. The prohibition was only meant to cancel my Psychological Invisibility, yet, I somehow caught a stray. What kind of bug is this? Klein lampoons. Can it be patched?
“Then…” Danitz begins thinly.
Anderson continues with raised brows and wide eyes, “This is what you really look like?”
Looking at the utter confusion on his companions’ faces, Klein considers continuing the lie but quickly abandons the idea. Both of the Hunters heard the Prohibition. A denial that all parties know is a lie is just room for further humiliation.
Albeit reluctant yet resigned, Klein reaches up, pushes Gehrman’s signature gold-rimmed glasses up atop his head, and smiles. “Yes. This is my original appearance.”
Even hearing it come directly from Klein’s mouth, Anderson and Danitz’s minds short-circuit. Their breaths catch in their throats. Their jaws hang slack. Yet, they are well within their rights and confusion, because the stranger that stands before them has little to no resemblance at all to the cold, crazy, and infamous adventurer Gehrman Sparrow.
From neatly combed hair to loose locks by his face.
From cold eyes to soft browns in the crimson light.
The air of ruthlessness and lunacy to the one of a scholar.
The shape of his face from sharp lines to a gentle curve.
A confident, intimidating stance to a cautious but friendly one.
A solemn, stoic expression to an unfamiliar yet familiar smile.
Looking at the young man with a gentle bookish air, Danitz cannot help but recall his Captain: beautiful, smart, capable, and able to step over him—
…
Danitz's mouth goes dry. He yanks his eyes away from Klein’s face, as if burned by hot iron, looking around in a fumble for anything to focus his attention on instead. His heartbeat roars in his ears.
“So, the whole cold, crazy adventurer persona,” Anderson starts, voice thin with disbelief, “...is a sham?”
Klein's mouth twitches slightly. “To digest my previous Sequence’s potion, I needed to disguise myself as a different person. It worked best if the character I played contrasted my own nature.”
Danitz whirls his head back around. “Your own nature?” he echoes incredulously. “So, when you took me hostage, made me your servant, and forced me to run all your errands… you’re saying that wasn't even your style?!”
Well, it’s partly your fault for being a pushover. Klein lets out a gentle short-lived laugh and says, “I apologize, but it fit the image of a crazy adventurer.”
“What about those times you kept telling me to shut up?” Anderson probes.
Klein smiles politely. “I'm sorry it came off harshly. However, at the time, it was the most efficient way to avoid you saying something to endanger the people around you while still maintaining Gehrman Sparrow’s character.” Though, I really did want you to shut up, he adds as an afterthought.
“Gehrman just apologized. Twice,” Danitz mutters, grabbing at his hair as if to yank it out.
Anderson steps closer. “And that time you lent me five soli? If you weren’t Gehrman Sparrow, you wouldn’t actually be that stingy, right?”
“What about your clash with Vice Admiral Ailment?” Danitz follows up, curiosity overtaking his instincts. “Was that just for acting?”
“You hang out with us not because you have to put up with us—but because you actually like our company?”
“Did you make yourself taller?”
“Why are you hunting pirates when you could make fortunes as an actor?!”
Klein shrinks back under the bombardment of questions and his declining personal space. His jaw tightens, withholding his annoyance. Inwardly, he complains, Where’d they get all this confidence? Does Klein Moretti’s face make it so easy to forget that I’m Gehrman Sparrow?
Catching the twitch of Klein’s mouth, Anderson grins, crosses his arms, and leans his weight back. “Wow. So, it turns out that Gehrman isn't a crazy adventurer. He's just crazy.”
If only Gehrman Sparrow was here to tell you to shut up. Not wanting to linger on the subject anymore, Klein clears his throat, glances at his marionette, and says, “As we agreed, I’ll sell the Beyonder Characteristic and cash in the body. We’ll split the pool.”
Still smiling, Anderson asks, “And the Sealed Artifact?”
Klein falls under quiet contemplation. His bangs brush past the thoughts in his eyes before he turns back to answer, “If you want it, Danitz and I will split your share of cash between us. A Sequence Six Sealed Artifact is quite valuable after all.”
“Fine with me,” Anderson replies.
“Are you alright with this, Danitz?” Klein asks, turning to the man who cannot seem to stop looking at him.
Danitz freezes alongside his heart, blinking wide. “Oh, erm. Yeah, the gold’s fine. I don’t need the artifact.”
Nodding, Klein hands the brooch to Anderson.
“Thought you’d throw it at me,” Anderson comments with amusement, pocketing the artifact.
Give it back to me and I will, Klein snaps back in his mind, yet, in reality, he only turns away and sighs.
“I can’t believe this is real,” Danitz admits, laughing.
“Who knew that Gehrman Sparrow was actually just a pretty scholar?” Anderson quips in reply, only smiling wider when Klein shoots him a heated look, but because it is backed with his softly-curved eyes and gentle face, the glare loses all of its effectiveness. Now, any time in the future when Gehrman scowls at him, Anderson will only recall this pitiful attempt at intimidation and laugh.
Ignoring the question, Klein waits out the silence until his spiritual intuition whispers into his ear. Relieved, he closes his eyes.
Without pause, Klein's loose hair pulls away from his face to smooth neatly over his head while his figure grows a few inches tall. The width of his shoulders broaden. The shape of his eyes and jawline earns a sharp edge. In a single moment, the young man with the affable air and the temperament of a scholar has vanished.
Before them, Gehrman Sparrow opens his eyes.
Anderson lets out a whistle.
If Anderson and Danitz had their memories wiped, never in a million years—and maybe more—could they have guessed what needed to happen to lead up to this very moment.
For Danitz, watching the transformation take place is what drives in the nail. Although he has known about Gehrman’s shape-shifting abilities for a while now, the idea of the latter’s appearance being fabricated did not cross Danitz’s mind. After all, it fits Gehrman’s personality too well! However, now that he thinks about it, said personality is also fabricated. Then, what about…?
Seeing Klein straighten his coat and place his glasses on the bridge of his nose, Danitz pauses before opening his mouth. “So if everything about this identity is fake, then, what's your real name?” he asks curiously.
“Ha.”
Immediately, Danitz realizes he has said something wrong.
Sharp dark eyes flash from behind the gold-rimmed glasses, pinning Anderson and Danitz under their weight. Down their spines crawls a very familiar shudder.
On Gehrman Sparrow’s face, a smile—crazed and charmed—spreads across his lips. “How gullible,” he remarks.
The penny drops.
One takes a step back. The other freezes in their place.
Anderson’s eyes widen, his heart lurching to his throat. No way…
He was actually pulling our leg? Danitz’s pulse drums in his ears with the deafening roar of blood. His first instinct is to bolt, but the one thing holding him back from grabbing his cloak and disappearing into the shadows is knowing that he would not make it far, because, after all that, they are so, so dead—
But Gehrman does not grab his gun. He makes no move to reach toward his holster nor activate the Sealed Artifact over his hand.
Under the crimson moonlight, from beneath Gehrman Sparrow’s naturally-cold demeanor, a semblance of Klein Moretti’s warmth shines through when the latter laughs softly, eyes curled in mischief. It is a strange yet fitting look on him.
