SHIPPING WAS the primary core of his first Attribute.
Drifting was the principle of his second.
These special abilities were two edges of the same blade, for his third Attribute was the very steel that allowed the first two to be wielded. Simply put, drifting governed the essence of his Existential Drift.
The assessment from the Statue of the Divine Frog had phrased it as:
「[Existential Drift] Trait Attribute Assessment Result: The self loosens its anchor and begins to wander, allowing identity to shift without fully separating. Two states emerge, neither wholly dominant nor entirely distinct, and control drifts between them as consequence and clarity exchange places.」
But what he craved most in this moment was a literal blade.
Scanning the barren expanse as he bolted between the withering trees, he felt the entity looming.
It was too late.
The beast had adapted to his pace.
Maze dodged a claw that nearly claimed his head, counter attacking with a punch to its midsection that forced the creature back. Seizing the momentum, he dropped low and slid a leg toward its feet. The entity, caught off-balance, lost its footing. THUD!
The Father Darkness struck the drought-parched earth, gnarling as it pushed off with its hands to leap into the air. By then, Maze had already decided to resume the chase. He was about to bite his hand to trigger the drift—
Shackle, shackle!
When he looked back, he found the entity bound by white twin chains. A girl and a boy in white uniforms were responsible for the restraint. Each of them wielded twin chains, one extending from each arm, slithering like serpents around the resisting beast.
It was much better that they both carried swords.
Maze remembered the four types of Children in Yonder, those Heirs distinguished by the color of their uniforms and the weight of their Heritage. These were likely the ones who had been steering their vessels toward this land. Though they had taken their time, they arrived at the opportune moment.
He did not care who dispatched the beast, so long as it was done.
Maze retreated behind a tree, watching secretively.
"A Father Darkness!" The girl's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, for the love of the God of Death, let us clear this battlefield."
"Are you not confident?" The boy grinned, unsheathing his steel. "All Dark Entities in this trial are supposed to be defeatable. Why should we be afraid?"
Maze considered leaving, seeing the boy's confidence.
However, he remained in the shadows to ensure the Father Darkness was truly vanquished.
If the tide turned, he might be forced to butt in.
⠀
THE GNARLING entity struggled with a frantic violence to cast off its shackles.
The boy lunged, his sword piercing the dark scales.
Each time the steel bit into flesh, the Father Darkness resisted the cold iron of the chains with utter desperation.
He struck again and again, until Maze ceased his watching, shaking his head at the unjustified spectacle of the torture.
"See! This Father Darkness is but a low tier, aha!" The boy laughed manically, his blade whistling through the air. Slashes opened the beast's hide, smearing bits of black flesh and ichor across the drought-parched earth. "Die, you monster! Die! Die! Die!"
The girl beside him screamed. "Just kill it, you moron! You are a cruel jackass."
But the boy remained deaf to her plea.
"Stop it!"
"Die! Die! Die!" he repeated, lost to his own bloodlust.
She struck him then, the slap echoing through the barren wood. "That was traumatic, Westershire! As a fellow Heirofthe Heritage of the Black Horse, you are ruthless and bring only shame to our sect."
The boy named Westershire glared at her, his boot stomping the ground in a fit of rage. "You have the nerve to strike me? I was having my fun!"
"Cease your childish behavior at once!" On her palm, she attempted to manifest a white scale, but the light began to flicker and vanish into the grey air. "Why is it not—"
"Dammit, it has escaped!"
Looking before her, the girl beheld only the melting remains of flesh upon the soil. Sadly, it was an almost victory. The signs clearly did not indicate the annihilation of the Father Darkness.
The beast had simply vanished.
Westershire spun around, his knees beginning to tremble as he searched for its remain, yet he could not perceive its trail.
Beside him, the girl let out a choked sound, her finger pointing toward a branch meters away.
There, the Father Darkness hung suspended, its body swinging with a predatory cadence as it prepared to lunge. It bore no wounds, nor even a trail of blood. Its form had seemingly regenerated in the time it took for a breath.
Then, creak!
The branch snapped, and the plunging entity twirled its countenance toward them.
Westershire attempted to parry the oncoming claws, but the force was too heavy, sending him flinging into a nearby trunk. He dropped his sword as a crimson mark was left upon the bark. His head was damaged.
On the other hand, the girl turned and ran for her life.
Galloping, the entity clawed her back, and she was sent flying due to an excessive force, ripping a piece of her cloth. Groaning in agony, the girl cried, but her voice seemed not to come out, as if she were tongueless. From that moment, she thought she was about to die.
Slowly, its claws reached for her and meticulously lifted her garments as the Father Darkness ominously stared at her directly in her eyes.
I do not want to die! I do not want to die!
Such thought kept on echoing in her mind.
Its other hand, however, touched her skin delicately, and all she could do was close her eyes.
Praying that her death would be much as quick.
Kraa! Kraa! A crow one after the other watched over from the branches as the Father Darkness which touched her face now touched her arm. It did not take much time before a murder of crows had finally gathered to see such a feast.
Whimpering quietly, the girl had no way of escape. Her poor body was unresponsive, as the chill had devoured her entirety. For a while, the entity kept on observing her, but that might be true for a 'while' merely.
It had begun clasping her arm, and then slowly and slowly, it tightened, until blood appeared from the wound, as the girl could only cry inwardly.
Kill me! You bastard of Darkness, just kill me already! It pains me a lot! It freaking pains me a lot!
Crack! Her thought halted as her arm was amputated from her, a thump in the ground, a part of her spraying blood all over herself and the Father Darkness.
"AH!" She wiggled her body in desperation to remove her agony, and she cried even more until—SCHLICK!
The cry stopped at once, as the body hung without any sign of struggle.
When the Father Darkness tried and wiggled the lifeless corpse, he threw it like an excess baggage.
But it did not happen to sense someone leaping from behind carrying a sword.
Before it could even do so, a man with a blindfold had already slashed its head.
A fountain of blood bursted out from its neck, its body began kneeling.
But it was never enough.
Maze slashed its other half.
After that, its arms.
Its legs.
Then he tore its claws.
He took its head and removed the stitches.
Then ripped it until it became chunks.
He did so these things without remorse.
For he came too late.
He came when a life had already been taken away.
As his frame had crimson liquid tainted, all he could think of was getting away from this place.
Finally, Maze observed the Father Darkness's remains before him, swallowing his breath as he dropped the sword and fell on his knees. Is this the life that my master wants for me to experience? How unfilled with pleasures of a simple living.
Rasping, Maze noticed the chest in half emitting some faint glow. There, something seemed to be stuck. What exactly . . . could it be?
He reached for that object, and soon, he felt something cold and metal. Maze took it and observed its entirety, a ring, which had a symbol of a key, made out of some kind of black flesh. He never would have thought he could obtain one himself.
Eventually, Maze wore it.
He was done in this place.
It was better if he were to open the Door.