"I don't know where the Magnus Blade is."
Halo sighed in disbelief.
"Given that Silent Hill's generation remains intact, it's probably mucus from a Forgotten Sinner. Still… I've never heard of it solidifying into a weapon."
He exchanged a bewildered look with his clone.
Humans had ranks: Awakened, Knight, Assassin, Sovereign, Overking, and Lost Lord. Those were the ones Halo knew, the stages his best friend had reached. If anything existed past that, Halo had no idea.
Sinners had ranks too. Toddler, then Perverted Sinners were mindless wanderers compared to humans and the higher tiers: Beast, Demonic, Forgotten, and Absolute.
And given Forgotten Sinners sat above Demonic Sinners… and Halo had struggled with mere Toddlers… the challenge awaiting him was well beyond anything he was prepared to handle.
"Stick to the path I told you. Mucus or not, it's the only way you make it into the castle alive."
Saint had shared what she could. Trapped or not, she'd explained the safest route into Silent Hill. Her motives were questionable, but her advice aligned with his survival.
Halo's clone had checked the path she described. Even without speech, its frantic gestures said enough, the route was far from secure.
But waiting wasn't an option.
The sun was already directly overhead.
Halo followed his clone through gnarled trees twisted by age and rot.
He'd only been in this world a few days, from the academy to his first Purpose, but the cruelty he'd seen had already reshaped his view of life itself.
Still, his will to survive burned stronger than ever. And he intended to reach the hero.
But that meant playing along with whatever twisted game the gods had created. Complete the Purpose. Stay alive.
Tempus est dominus. Time is the master.
One step at a time.
***
With the clone guiding him, progress was smoother than expected.
Collapsed concrete buildings littered the landscape, decayed under centuries of neglect. Moss-choked walls and broken stone were swallowed by wild brush and twisted roots.
The ruins rekindled Halo's anxiety. Dark Saint had warned him about a Forgotten Sinner and facing something of that tier was practically suicide.
He could barely handle a Perverted Sinner on his best day.
He exhaled slowly, though his expression projected calm confidence.
Then he froze, eyes widening as he took in the sight ahead.
A grim village stretched before them, its crumbling foundations drowning in gray fog and oppressive humidity.
A narrow mud path wound through the ruin, leading toward a colossal castle perched on a distant hill.
Its jagged spires clawed at the sky.
Sinners circled overhead, wings beating in lazy, predatory arcs. More stood guard on the battlements, statuesque and silent.
The clone snapped him out of his trance with a sharp gesture toward cover. Halo reacted immediately, crouching low behind a ruined wall.
"What the fuck am I doing?" he muttered, slapping his cheeks.
He refused to die here. Not like this. He knew too much fear was as lethal as carelessness.
He forced himself still. He was Halo, feared by many. He wasn't going to be rattled by a superior threat.
He inhaled deeply, steadying himself.
They needed to move like shadows. With Sinners circling above and watchful sentinels lining the walls, one careless step would end them.
As he weighed their options, his clone gestured again. The meaning was clear. Halo gave a curt nod.
It was going to scout ahead. It was shadow-born, tireless and emotionless, it had a far better chance than he did.
Halo watched the clone glide from one hiding spot to another, analyzing their tactical choices.
Sure, the clone could move without clothes, but its white hair and glowing eyes would still betray it. And Halo wasn't about to treat his only ally as expendable.
It was his clone. His other self.
That alone forced him to think harder than usual, yet no brilliant solution emerged.
Saint's warning echoed in his mind: Sinners ruled the night. They needed to finish before sunset or find shelter.
That left one option, slowly hopping from ruin to ruin and staying completely concealed. Painfully slow, it was but survivable.
But just as his mind drifted, his heartbeat spiked uncontrollably. His body locked in place.
Warm and heavy breaths pressed against the back of his head, so forceful they rippled his hair.
Halo mentally cursed every god he could name.
A Sinner stood directly behind him. Its rank? Impossible to tell. His body refused to move, and he had seen almost nothing except the weakest tier.
Something wrapped around him. Slowly. Almost gently.
Tentacles.
His eyes shot downward as dread crawled beneath his skin.
One moment, there was a single tendril. The next, dozens, slithering over his body.
He trembled internally, though his exterior remained deceptively calm.
The creature's warm, viscous flesh molded to him like living slime, contouring every inch.
The tenderness of it was grotesque.
Terror drained away, replaced by confusion.
He instinctively tried to pry himself free, but the soft-feeling tentacles were impossibly rigid.
It was acting familiar. Too familiar.
This wasn't a Toddler Sinner.
As the creature's body liquefied further, enveloping him, Halo's strength proved useless.
It wasn't trying to kill him. It was affectionate.
A cold realization hit.
'I get it… This has to be a Perverted Sinner.'
Toddler Sinners attacked from fear, panic, or instinct. But this… this bizarre clinging, this "affection" that was the Perverted tier's hallmark.
Understanding didn't comfort him. Perverted Sinners were vastly stronger, and if it held him long enough, it would crush him by accident.
"Tsk. I need something. Something."
His clone still hadn't returned. And even if it did, this wasn't a threat brute force could solve.
His mind spiraled.
Then his knees buckled, his body shifting downward. In that instant, his eyes widened and a slow smirk formed.
The creature resisted force. But when he relaxed…
He slipped.
Completely.
He let every muscle go slack. No tension. No resistance.
The response was immediate. The Sinner's oobleck-like body softened, and he slid through the tendrils like liquid, collapsing onto the floor before pulling himself free.
At last, he saw the creature clearly.
He swallowed bile.
Its upper half resembled an octopus, bulbous, dripping, lined with pulsing tendrils, while its lower half was ogre-like, thick-skinned and hulking with massive, gnarled toes.
Its expressionless face somehow looked… pleased.
But Halo wasn't staying to find out more.
He couldn't abandon his clone, but staying here was suicide.
He rose quickly.
But before he could leave the ruined structure, he froze. His chest tightened.
A dog-shaped Sinner blocked his path, muscles grotesquely overdeveloped under its slick skin, jaws dripping viscous fluid.
He scowled. "For fuck's sake."
The words barely left his mouth before the Sinner's head flew off, cleanly severed, rolling across the stone.
Halo snapped his gaze to the side.
His clone stood there, waiting, sword arm raised.
Their eyes met. The clone beckoned him forward.
Halo couldn't help but smile.
There was no denying it anymore, his clone was irreplaceable.
***
[ Congratulations! You've slain a Toddler Sinner. ]
[ You've received a Sin Fragment: sloth. 1/10 ]
[ Your raw power has increased. ]
[ Your clone has grown stronger. ]
***
'Really?'
He exhaled as the cozy sensation coursed through his spine.