Ethan Hawke

Current Spirit Cores: 17505

Current Host: Ranok, Blade of Kaedmon (Deceased)

HP: 0

At the apex of his first victory over the armies of men, Ethan commanded Revok to set him down upon the broken body of the Greycloak who had stood against him.

In the short interlude between the old man's defeat and his triumphant march onto the beach, leaving the decimated Lucent navy sunk behind him, he had invested the Spirit Cores he'd gained from the Grey's pitiful army into his latest Possession upgrade:

Possession (Grade A)

Unlocks Possession of deceased beings.

[The H-Bomb] Cancel your hold on the mind of a Host to cause an explosion that deals up to 4000 Spirit Damage in a 50 ft radius.

Spirit Core Cost to Upgrade: 50000

And now, he freely peered into Ranok's mind as the soft fabric of his hem touched the withered old man's skull.

Revok, meanwhile, stayed by his side, wrapping his tail and wings around his master like a dutiful hound, while the remains of the Lucent navy looked on, in abject horror.

Ethan saw who this man had once been – he'd been the man who managed to capture Jun'Ei. The man who had brought her to Haylock, and allowed all of that fiend's madness to take place.

Like we've seen, Sys commented. Ain't no good Greycloaks out there, Ethan. Even this drunken old goat was a bastard in life.

But Ethan could only barely hear Sys. Instead, he rooted around in Ranok's mind, probing in places beyond hate, beyond bias.

He saw a young man who'd had no purpose in his life. He saw a man who thought that the answers to all of his problems could be found at the bottom of a bottle in a random, shit-filled bar in a forgotten township.

Then he saw the shining hand of a Greycloak offer itself to him. And he saw then how they did it.

They take people who feel hopeless, Ethan thought. People who are angry. Upset. Or just…drained. They take them and direct all their self-hate towards the Hybrids of this world.

A fair observation, Sys admitted. But does that really change anything? Surely that just tells you it's their leaders who have to die.

It tells me a little more than that, Sys.

Ethan felt Sys' confusion at this, but he didn't say more. For some reason, he didn't feel like pushing the subject.

In the moment before he pulled away from the Grey's memories, something else struck him: the image of a young, bright-eyed boy looking up at him, holding a sword in both hands and never giving up even as Ranok beat him back time and time again.

And this boy was a familiar face he'd never expected to see again – the same boy whose father he'd slain in the Hybrid Plantation in the Ashfalls.

Well, well, he thought. Looks like they got their next victim. Except the reason for this one's anger was…me.

He was already a messed-up kid before you came along, Ethan, Sys told him. Living in a den of slavers like that, he'd already been taught to hate your kind.

Ethan appreciated the attempt at consolation, but the thought still unnerved him, even though he knew it shouldn't. He'd promised himself he'd never have any doubts again.

So, instead, he quickly re-focused his mind - taking what he wanted from Ranok's mind and had Revok pluck him up again to rest on his great lion-head. He'd never been in the mind of a Greycloak before. Truth be told, he'd have thought rustling through their memories – the people who had drank the blood of angels – would be too disgusting for him to bear.

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But he'd seen his fair share of horrors, now. And besides, the skills were worth it:

Skills Transferred:

Blink (Grade A)

You teleport up to 100 meters in any direction.

This teleport can be used to pass through solid matter.

Spirit Core Cost to upgrade further: 7000

Blade of the Sword Saint (Grade A)

For the duration of this Skill, one [Melee] weapon you wield functions as a ranged weapon and has the [Returnal] property.

Weapons with the [Returnal] property always return to the bearer's hands at the conclusion of any attack.

Grade A: [Homing] Property unlocked.

Blade of the Sword Saint will now track an enemy until it makes contact with them.

Spirit Core Cost to upgrade further: 6000

I know what you're thinking, Sys interjected. But need I remind you that you're saving up for your most important skill?

There's a whole world of Cores out there for me, Sys, Ethan replied. I'm not leaving Westerweald until I've milked it for every last drop of strength I can.

You're the boss, Chief:

Upgrade Cost…complete!

Blade of the Sword Saint (Grade S)

Blade of the Sword Saint now works on up to 5 melee weapons at once.

MAXIMUM UPGRADES REACHED

He felt the surge of power run through him, strengthening the already bulging limbs of Ranok and forcing a roar of triumph from all three of his throats.

With a sudden glint in his eyes, he activated Blade of the Sword Saint and watched his Onixian claws begin to levitate in front of him. He turned, seeing that some of the ships were still floating, derelict, on the shore, and sent the vicious weapon fragments flying at them. Each one rammed into the side of a different ships hull, splintering it from within and sinking them completely.

The washed-up humans on the beach cowered, trying to avoid his gazes, as they realized that their world truly was doomed.

No, Ethan corrected. Not doomed. On the verge of a new dawn.

He raised his right paw for the Onixian blades to fly back and reattach themselves, then flexed the claw, feeling the sheer might that now flowed through him. He wasn't even thinking about the pathetic little men groveling before him now. Now, his mind was on the only thing that mattered: the future.

And so he looked to the source of the fleet – the sparkling gem of Westerweald that rose across the flame-filled ocean bed.

You know what comes next, Sys said, barely able to contain his excitement. You know he'll be waiting for you.

Ethan nodded. His crimson eye glared at the highest, silvery tower in the distance. The place where Lysandus had once held his court. The place where, he was sure, Artorious would probably be waiting for him.

Why he hasn't come out yet is beyond me, Ethan thought.

Think it's a trap?

Ethan smiled with all three of his serrated rows of teeth.

I hope so. What would be the fun in finishing him off like this sorry bunch?

There was no need to say anything else.

He stretched his wings, summoned up a [Wing Buffet], and took to the skies, bound for the capital city and the horde of Spirit Cores contained within.

And the mortals of Westerweald watched him go with not a drop of relief in their hearts. For all those who had laid eyes on the Archon of Westerweald, there was no hope of rescue now no matter where they ran.

But Ethan wasn't thinking about them as he broke through the clouds and let out another roar that heralded his coming.

He had one enemy. He'd always had one enemy.

And it was time to finish this.

"Who?"

Fauna stood before Lamphrey at the edge of the Triant woods, the question on her quivering lips almost too much for her.

Lamphrey had told her that Kaedmon was not their true foe. She'd said it with such absolute conviction that it almost seemed like she was counseling a schoolgirl in this moment. It was as though this fact were mere common sense.

Yet in her eyes Fauna could see fear. The name she wanted to pronounce would not leave her lips. Possibly because she knew the consequences of revealing the truth right here, right now.

"Please, Fauna," she hissed. "Think on this: who stands to gain if this world is thrown into chaos? Who stands to gain as the Archon rises in power while this earth falls all around him?"

She asked these questions and sent out a scaled hand to grab Fauna as the Hopla attempted to turn away. But at Lamphrey's touch, Fauna could feel that the lizardwoman was…shaking.

"Lamphrey, what are you -?"

"I beg you, Fauna," she hissed again, more emphatically, as though she knew they didn't have much time left. As though her own time on this earth was growing shorter and shorter by the second. "Try to see, try to understand. It is the only chance we may have. I see it in you. I saw it back in the lair of the mad doctor. You care for him – for the Archon – don't you?"

Fauna stepped back, wrestling against Lamphrey's chill touch.

"Then you must see!" the Lizardwoman practically shrieked in her face. "After what you have seen here – do you not see that it is not Kaedmon and his Lightborn and his people who shall be victorious. But neither shall our kind!"

"Get – get off me!"

She began to cast a burning claw spell on her hands, roasting the Tialax's scaled fingers as she still grappled with her. But the lizardwoman simply wouldn't let up. She pushed through the pain as the fell against each other on the forest floor.

"There is only one being that benefits from all this suffering," Lamphrey hissed in desperation. "The one who has always benefitted from all of this. The one constant. The locus. Fauna the Hopla, you must see that –"

Miss Fauna!

Everything stopped. The shrill, piercing voice that ripped through Fauna's consciousness in that moment was like a knife scraping the inside of her brain. At first, she couldn't be sure she'd heard anything at all.

Then, it came again.

Miss…Fauna!

And she knew who it was who had called out, as impossible as it seemed.

…Mara.

The voice then came only one more time, shrill and terrified, like the moments before a burning cottage crumbles:

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