This was... Lark's voice!
The runes, those crimson strands of text, they didn't just appear before him, they were echoing with the sound of his vile, grating voice.
"Lark, where have you been? What are you talking about? I killed the Knight in your absence, not that I needed your guidance, just your abilities..."
Lark did not respond to him, but he did continue to speak. Hollowly, almost as if he was speaking to him, but not directly towards him.
"If you're reading this, congratulations, boy. You've learned how to use the ability more effectively. It's called [Eyes of Discernment]. Although, it's really just as you say, an ability for lore-seeking historians. There's nothing particularly useful about it, which is all my life and death really amounted to before becoming a Spirit.
And because you've finally made this Contract with me— for real this time— I'm truly dead. It's better for the both of us if you don't know why I am. At least, I hope you'll never find out why.
Artemis's eyes widened. Is this... a letter? Lark, where have you really gone? You've died? But you were just here, weren't you?
But fear not, grieve not. I know my absence is concerning and terrible. I will return.
Just worry about the Hunt.
You have the qualities of a Daemon now. A Lesser Daemon, surely. But if you train your body well, you might be able to eclipse the barest threshold separating a Lesser Daemon from a Lower Daemon. Well, this is all to say that you are stronger than a normal person now. You will move faster, heal faster, think faster…
…and kill faster.
All I mean to say is that the Hunt won't be extremely difficult, just daunting, terrifying, and ruthless.
So the only things you need to be cautious and wary of are your dreams, and the Signs.
The thing that will haunt you in your dreams, the Thing that Sleeps, is partially superficial, it's the sort of creature that likes to play with its food. It's a Hunter itself, a morbid one. So don't take it too seriously and go for the throat. The only problem is that it Hunts the strong. You were weak before I gave my life for your sake, so being cheated was your ticket to survival. Now strength is your weakness, and you have become a target.
The truth is, I was supposed to be the one that was Hunting. All I had to do was find a suitable vessel, like that Daemon that took over the suit of armour. I just needed you to get me to the City. But… this is a suitable alternative. Actually, maybe it was the only path forward.
There's a final point, boy. Listen to this one most of all.
That Creator of this Shadow that left the Signs had designated the Hunt long ago. If you were meant to take up the Hunt, then this 'choice' I've made wasn't really a choice at all, just his meticulous preparation. For whatever reason as pertains to you, you were meant to come here all along. We were supposed to meet, and you were supposed to Hunt.
The Signs he leaves mark the way forward, but I wouldn't advise staring at them for too long. Those who do so without the proper counteractive measures might find themselves wandering too far from their own sanity.
Never trust that Creator, that Yellow God."
With that final note, Lark's illusory voice trailed off into the air. In the end, all that was left was the distant howl of the wind.
After finishing listening to Lark's letter, Artemis sat in silence and stared at the wall of the ruins ahead, sinking back into the dune of ash.
He wasn't grieving... moreso trying to wrap his head around what Lark had said. He was honestly more annoyed than anything.
Didn't that bastard Daemon know how to draw out his explanations so they would actually make sense?
Had he been in a hurry during the fight, and had to condense everything to save time?
Man, you are one crazy bastard… or, were.
He felt the jolting pain of his severed arm return and grinned through his pained expression.
Then again, maybe I am too…
Lark really reminded him of a figure from the Palace, an Archknight by the name of Lysia. This person was a real trickster, a joker at heart. And he was also entirely dependent on his whims to be considered capable...
It seems many worlds had echoes of another, in some strange forms.
But unlike the Archknights, who had never done much to help him in his endeavours as Captain of the Guard, this was really just equivalent to a gift that had been left behind for him by the Daemon. How hilarious that the one who had no obligation to help him was the only one who ever had.
He suddenly felt somewhat ashamed, he almost regretted calling Lark a bastard so many times, even twice just then.
Then again, that Daemon had first tried to deceive him. Maybe it wasn't a matter of setting themselves on an equal plane of slights towards each other.
It could be said that the only reason Lark chose to do what he did was because it was the most likely option for his continued survival.
That was… as long as he could really return in the future as he had said.
He didn't know what method Lark would try and use to revive himself, but if he had kept it as such a dire backup option, then it was likely either extremely annoying or difficult.
No matter what the case was, it was likely that he hadn't been left Lark's abilities out of kindness, but pragmaticism. Still, he should try and put them to good use, considering the Daemon had died to leave it to him, however that had happened...
Now, all that was left was an incomprehensible amount of questions. And as Lark had said before, there were far too many answers...
Artemis let out a sigh, forcing himself onto his feet. His entire body still felt like it would tip over at any moment, but he couldn't allow himself to rest much more. Each minute he decided to remain idle was an opportunity for another enemy to sneak up on him and kill him while he was still weak.
He took inventory of what he had gained... and lost.
Sheathing his blade, he abandoned his severed arm and the onyx blade. It was far too large for him to wield effectively, especially now that he had only one hand to work with. While he was practiced with both hands, his left was a bit less experienced than his right. It was a shame that it had turned out that way.
Why is this all so troublesome?
This is a great place for me to train, it gives me more than enough time to prepare to duel with August... but it's far too dangerous. However much strength I obtain here does not matter if I don't survive to return home.
This Knight... it wasn't even a named target. It wasn't on that list that Lark gave me.
Using the [Eyes of Discernment] on the corpse of the fallen Daemon's vessel, he could see its title. It was named [Lord's Armour].
Nothing like that was on the Hunting list.
He closed his eyes and tried to recall the list. Although his memory wasn't the best, studying through medical documents and textbooks in recent weeks had helped him immensely.
Innocent Light, the Thing that Sleeps, the Stranger, Vaultracht, the Painter, Lautstarke, and the Grand Widow's Spawn...
'The Thing that Sleeps'... this was something that Lark has seemingly warned me about twice now. When I dream, I will be hunted? What kind of monster can attack you in the realm of your mind, isn't this too out of the ordinary?
He found himself glancing back up at the open sky of beautiful portraiture, splashes of viridian and cerulean paint stretching out endlessly over a canvas of glimmering black stars. In the center of it all, the moon bespeckled with hollow craters looked down at him as if intent on observing him.
None of these things were present in his home, in the continent of the Blackbaast, which floated endlessly on a black sea underneath the ceiling of a cavern.
So if these otherworldly things could exist, then maybe it really was possible that there existed a beast who could attack him in his dreams. He decided to take Lark's warning to heart.
But how was he supposed to defend himself against a creature in his dreams, exactly?
Of course, he didn't exactly feel tired... these were all things he could worry about when the idea of needing to sleep was actually presented before him.
Another concern was his need to eat. He had meant to eat his first meal after patrolling around the Palace, but then he had gotten trapped in the Shadow. Several hours had passed since then, and now he was feeling its effects. The fight, which had sapped all of his strength, simultaneously demanded that he eat something.
So he stood before the strange wooden ruins, contemplating whether or not to enter. Of course, there was a high chance that this place was filled with more hidden dangers like the Knight. But if he ignored it and continued through the Cradle of Ash, which seemed entirely barren of life, then there may not be another opportunity to find food...
But just before he began making a decision, the silence stirred.
The sobs of a girl echoed through the empty air of the Cradle, originating from inside the ruins.