Every stop on the march was a moment of reprieve for Vergil.

Horvath did everything the old ghost could, but this was the end of Vergil's strength. He'd fought at the gates, he'd fought through the courtyard, he'd even faced the monster that had almost killed Tallah. He couldn't remember when was the last time he'd slept, or eaten a meal, or drank anything but brackish canteen water.

He had nothing more to draw on, no matter how brave a face he put on for Arin and the others.

For the first time since being found by Tallah and Sil, Vergil had no more reserves of strength, no more spunk, no more optimism that he would get up if he dropped. Every stop on the march was a moment where he struggled not to fall on his ass and sleep. Likely forever.

Some of the soldiers had had their flasks filled with the awful healer coffee. He greedily accepted Arin's share and drank as much of that as he dared, until his heart hammered his chest so wildly that he couldn't even sit still anymore. Whatever energy he drew from that flowed like acid in his veins and sent his ears ringing.

Without the helmet's enchantment, still powered by Sil, he'd be utterly useless.

• Eyes up, sprig.

• Ye ain't dead, yet.

• Dawn's no' that far off.

• Ye'll be fine if ye just keep walkin'.

Vergil almost laughed. The ghost had found a modicum of affection for him, at least in these final moments.

"Why'd you even bother with me?" he asked as he marched, trying to keep one foot in front of the other and his chin facing forward. "You could've just waited until the helmet passed to someone else."

"Ye were a worthy lad, sprig. Good head on yer shoulders. Good heart in yer chest. Brimmin' wi' courage, ye were."

The dwarf spoke as if he walked by Vergil's side, now flowing easily between messages and speech. If Vergil squinted a bit, he could almost make out the dwarf's outline through the gloom, axe and all.

"How? I wasn't…" Vergil swallowed heavily as they slipped between the trees, the forest engulfing them. "I wasn't myself."

He got the impression of a disappointed head shake from the shade. Somehow Horvath did not agree with that.

"Ye were always yersel', lad. Just... young, is all. Dinnae fash yersel' aboot that. We'll speak o' it on the morrow, aye."

But as tired as he was, Vergil couldn't quiet his mind. Away from the Rock, on the silent march, with nothing but dread and aches to occupy him, Vergil worried over a lot of things.

There was one question that kept squirming through his thoughts, and he had nobody to ask it to. Maybe if they escaped the Cauldron in one piece and then marched to the Goddess of Healing, Vergil could ask it of her.

Who am I?

A day prior he'd known to that quite well: Vergil Vansce, born on the Gloria Nostra, brought to Edana by Panacea, ally to Tallah Amni and Silestra Adana, probably some degree of insane.

His coming to Edana had been a cosmic mistake that had obfuscated an ancient machine spirit. In spite of that, he'd managed to thrive somehow, mostly to deny Tallah's low expectations of him.

That was who he'd been on the morning when he'd walked out onto the training grounds to spar with Arin. Simple Vergil. Eager to prove himself. Happy to have made friends. Ready to lay down his life for anyone that had shown him kindness.

Now… Vergil was an alien skin occupied by three ghosts, out of which only two had a clear idea of who they were. The third couldn't trust any of his memories and now wondered at the purpose of his entire existence.

If he laid down, curled up into a ball, and just died, would he be helping the creatures that had placed him there? Or hinder them? Would his dying make things easier for Tallah and Sil? Would it be for the better?

"Aye, enough o' that, sprig."

Something slammed in the back of his head like a shovel. He staggered, tripped over his feet, and kissed a tree he would've walked into anyway.

"I'm no' spendin' my time coddlin' ye." Horvath sounded disgusted as Vergil struggled to get back to his own feet. "Shape up and get on wi' it. It's a long road tae dawn, an' we've nae time for yer greetin'."

"What's the matter with you?" Arin rushed to his side and offered a hand.

Vergil shook his head to clear the explosions of colours from his sight. None of the soldiers laughed. He took Arin's hand and rose to his feet, shaking off the mud from his trousers, and the shame of somehow disappointing Horvath. It shook him, somewhat, that the old dwarf was this invested in his well being.

"I'm tired," he said, not even bothering to lie. "I don't think I've ever been this tired in my life."

Some of the nearby civilians echoed the sentiment. The march wasn't the issue. It was the whole of the day. Like him, many would not manage to get back up again if they stopped moving.

"I know what you mean," Arin said as they hurried after their squad. "If we survive, I'll sleep for a tenday at least."

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"I think we'll be lucky to get even a day to rest up," Vergil grumbled.

Arin smiled. His face had aged years in mere hours. There was no hint of his easy cheer from the siege, just a concerned weariness. Like everyone else, he also buckled under the pressure of the waiting trap. They all knew the forest would be their next proving ground. There was no other way for their passage to go this smoothly. Somewhere on their path, they would be waylaid and decimated, unless Tallah had some spectacular final moment surprise crammed up her sleeve.

Though she was also running on spite alone, carried forward by her ever-burning anger.

Vergil doubted even dawn would prove of any help at this point. Whatever had happened over the night, it had an air of profound change about it. The dreg in him put up resistance, rabidly convinced that it would be rescued by its comrades at any moment. It whispered of what terrible things the other white-faced daemons would do to Tallah and Sil once they came to exact revenge for this indignity.

He was almost asleep on his feet when the creature calling itself Mol'Ach arrived and began its sermon.

Everything after that happened in a blur. One moment Tallah was grandstanding against the monster, the next Vergil and the others were neck deep in blood dolls and beastmen chunks. People screamed as they were grabbed and pulled upward. Adventurers and soldiers exploded into action, grabbing hold of victims to hack at the monsters gripping them.

Vergil spied Licia being raised into the air as she clung to a child. She stabbed furiously at the spider-like creature until it finally released its grip. Elendine and child crashed back to the ground but were saved by quick reactions from the others.

Uglier things emerged from the dark to be met by Anna's brood.

"Advance!" the old woman next to Tallah yelled over the sudden noise. "Fight only if ye need to. Keep the civilians safe."

One moment he'd been ready to collapse.

The next it was as if he'd shrugged off the entire weight of the world. Vergil raised his weapons, roared in defiance of the night, and leapt into action.

"More t' learn sprig," Horvath laughed. "I ain't done teachin' ye. Trust ol' hammerhead, aye."

Like a switch flipping inside him, Vergil rushed into battle in complete stupor. Thoughts drained from his head. Worries washed away in the flood of adrenaline and undiluted rage. Horvath's roar filled his ears as they waded together into the thick of battle.

A part of him idly wondered at this renewed vigour and what else the dwarf could show him. Was this how the old codger had fought his wars? Was he seeing, for the first time, all that Horvath was capable of now that he was in control?

Would the dwarf allow him his freedom? Or had Vergil been freed of one jailer just to be enslaved by another?

He shook his head free of distractions he couldn't afford. The first daemon to bypass the cordon of Tallah dolls met its end on his blades, guts spilling out all over his trousers. He swung the axe at a descending club. Biter cleaved straight through the wood, passed it entirely, and lopped off the monster's head in a geyser of hot blood. The daemon staggered three more paces but Vergil was already past it, swinging to meet the next victim.

He craved the violence and the blood and the bitter bile rising up from the pit of his stomach. If he could have, he would've licked the blood from his axe. Something in him was breaking apart, and it should've scared him. His desires revolted him even as he revelled in them, feeling himself crossing over a fine, invisible line.

It wasn't enough he had no idea who Vergil Vansce even was anymore, now that boy was turning into a full-blooded berserker. Was it really Horvath's doing? Or something deep within, let loose?

It didn't matter.

All that matter was the next kill. Then the next. And the next.

Vergil fought his way to the fore of the column, right behind Tallah and Liosse. The sorceress wasn't fighting but leading the advance while the dolls were engaged. Sil was near Vilfor, swinging her glowing mace at anything daring her range. Vergil injected himself into the fighting, at Liosse's left and ahead of Tallah, forming the tip of their spear, howling for the fight.

"We're almost out," Tallah called out. "The moment we hit open ground, I want all surviving healers to focus on barriers. I need time to cut over the ravine."

Vergil growled. That wasn't the mission for him. He rammed his shoulder into some semblance of a spider. It missed him when it dropped from the trees. Compared to the Grefe hunters, this was barely a bug. His axe bit deep into the clusters of eyes, ripped them out, stems and all, then shattered the chitin body. A kick sent the dying creature into a roll from which it did not rise.

Another dropped. It died the same.

The next dropped on him and bit down. Fangs got entangled in the thick weave as Vergil slammed his back into a tree, shaking loose the creature.

Sil was next to him, swinging. A boom resounded as the mace hit the creature and blasted it to chunks, showering both of them in steaming ichor. Like him, she was already moving, not waiting, just fighting. Blood stained her face, already drying, making her into an apparition more frightening than any of the monsters. He'd never seen the healer so wild-eyed and angry.

She didn't help him rise. He managed on his own regardless.

An echo of old fear wormed its way through his guts. Sil was not only fighting, but she was also powering him all the while. It seemed he wasn't the only one going through a change.

A glance back showed the column breaking into streams of humanity, flowing by the trees and the ever present fight. Some were taken, grabbed by dropping creatures, yanked away from the crowd. Soldiers grabbed hold of those they could save, pulling them back and skewering the daemons.

Then the dolls caught scent of the tactic and they began climbing the trees. Vergil wanted to follow, aware there was more fighting to be done in the canopy than down in the mud.

He resisted the urge and, instead, howled back for the others to close ranks. Arin saluted with his shield as he bashed a daemon's skull in. Licia and her two friends fought like dervishes through the flood, their violence a match for anything the daemons threw their way.

Monsters fell from the trees, Tallah dolls dragging them to the ground. Some shattered as they fell. Some still lived and were hacked apart by anyone holding a weapon.

The dolls even saved two more children, dropping them from up high to be caught mid-fall by Tallah's magic. People cheered as the two were swallowed back up by the crowd.

And in the background, the mad noise of the dragon waging war on something. Fire lit up the depths of the forest, consuming the high canopy, spreading unchecked. The mighty beast was on their side, but it was not going to spare their safety any thought.

The world shook again. Vergil felt eyes on him, a quiet amusement and cold breath on his neck.

"We will meet again, little one," something whispered in his ear.

He spun in place, weapons up, but there was no one next to him. A daemon swung for his throat but was caught mid-swing by Liosse's axe. It dropped to the ground, gurgling blood.

"You will amuse me, when I find you. Do live through tonight. It would be boring otherwise."

Vergil's skin broke into goose flesh just as Liosse shoved him forward.

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