Man of Hollows

As the expected echo of Hill and Mime's high five failed to reach Hill's eardrums, he felt pride spreading through his chest. It had nothing to do with the relic he was now wearing. Instead, it stemmed from the feeling of accomplishment that washed over him.

He had done something he had never done before—something on a supernatural level.

However, the feeling didn't last long. Looking toward the old man, Hill noticed that Hero's grin had faded. Now, it was replaced with a look of calculation.

"It must be obvious to you that this shirt will not help you in the real world," the old man stated, his voice pulling Hill from his moment of triumph with strange finality. "That shirt is useful for a coward, but hiding is a tactic, not a strategy. It will keep you alive long enough to die tomorrow. What you currently need is something that can answer violence with violence."

The air beside Hero shimmered once more as he stretched out his hand. The distortion was noticeably more intense this time.

From the twisting space and shimmering motes of light, he pulled not a piece of clothing, but something significantly smaller.

He then focused, biting down on his lower lip as he relinquished his claim over it.

As the glimmer of the motes faded away, Hill realized that the relic Hero had produced was a simple string necklace from which hung a single feather. The feather was iridescent, pulsing with a captivating spectrum of colors that seemed to defy the overwhelming redness of his soul realm, which originated from the ominous red disc in the sky.

"Wow," Hill mumbled, mostly to himself. "That looks so cool..."

"This one is different," Hero said, his voice low as he offered it to Hill. "I invite you to try it out and realize the nature of this relic as well."

Hesitantly, Hill reached out, his fingers brushing against the feather. It was cold to the touch, and he felt the sudden urge to pull his hand away from it. Yet he persisted.

Grasping it fully by the string, Hill brought it close to his side before turning his attention back to Hero. "What do I do?"

Hero smirked. "The same thing you did before, boy."

Taking a deep breath, Hill closed his eyes and focused his will. He pictured the relic in his mind and issued the same mental command as before:

You're mine.

He expected the same easy acceptance as the shirt, but this time, he felt strange, unexpected pushback. It felt cold and sharp, as if he was being pricked by frosty thorns. He pushed through the unpleasant sensation, pouring more of his focus into the command until he felt a sudden snap, as if a lock had finally given way.

[You have claimed a relic: ]

The runes flared before him as he opened his eyes, but Hill ignored them, proceeding to close his eyes again. He was bracing himself for the plunge into the relic's memory. He waited for the flash of another's perspective or something of that nature.

But nothing happened.

He saw no memory, and he didn't feel any foreign emotions.

With his expectations thoroughly defied, Hill felt awfully empty.

"There's nothing," Hill said, opening his eyes with a frown. "I didn't see a memory. I can't feel its story."

"There's a reason for that," Hero retorted, gesturing with his chin toward the relic in Hill's hand. "You claimed it, didn't you? The runes will tell you all you need to know."

Raising an eyebrow but not responding, Hill focused his will again and properly summoned the runes of his new relic. They shimmered to life before him, arranging themselves in orderly fashion.

Relic: [Deceitful Feather]

Relic Tier: [V]

Relic Rank: [Dormant]

Relic Category: [Charm]

Relic Description: [On the eve of the Lesser Massacre, a woeful raptor was slain by a wandering derelict. A great lake of blood was left behind, and floating on its surface was this glistening feather, the last remnant of that battle.]

Ah, I see... the relic is of a dormant rank. That probably means it's weaker than the Midnight Promise.

And that also might explain why I wasn't able to see its memory, right?

He noted the other new details with intrigue.

Tier V? That's definitely higher than the shirt... I wonder what that entails...

A charm as well, how ambiguous...

"It says it's dormant," Hill said, looking to Hero for confirmation. "What does that mean?"

Hero scoffed as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "Awakened things are awake. Dormant things are asleep. It's not complicated. The question you should be asking is how one wakes it up. But that," he said, waving a hand dismissively, "is a problem for another day. Are you going to wear it or just stare at it?"

Despite the mystery and its current uselessness tugging at his consciousness, Hill decided to push that all aside and put the new relic called the "Deceitful Feather" around his neck. He lifted the string over his head, letting the necklace settle on his chest just above the Midnight Promise.

The Deceitful Feather rested coolly against the dark fabric of the Midnight Promise, practically illuminating its rustic surface with its iridescent quality.

He now had two relics. He wasn't the same helpless boy who had fallen into this dark realm.

Feeling an uncharacteristic burst of confidence, he puffed his chest out and turned to Mime. He spread his arms wide and leaned to the side, posing for the silent but expressive girl.

Mime's painted smile seemed to widen creepily. Her eyes lit up as she broke into a series of rapid claps, her hands blurring as she did so. It sounded like a woodpecker drilling against a tree.

She gave a little hop as she clapped, which caused a real smile to touch Hill's lips. Her appreciation, if that's what this whole display was, provided a real confidence boost.

However, before he could even turn back toward Hero to ask for his opinion on his looks, he felt a strange sinking feeling.

He had felt this before. It had occurred when he had woken up in the real world.

Whipping toward Hero, he quickly gasped out a warning. "I'm waking up!"

Hero's eyes widened, and he began to wave him goodbye. "Be safe, boy!"

The black sand at his feet seemed to lose its substance, turning into an abyss that began to pull him down. The red disc in the sky warped and stretched as the figures of Hero and Mime dissolved like smoke.

An immense weight pressed in on him from every side, causing him to open his eyes as he let out a ragged gasp.

The air was stale. He felt a rough bedroll beneath him that seemed to be made up of the thick leaves of the towering trees of the underground forest. Despite its thickness, it did little to soften the hard-packed earth below.

He was in the Fourth Company's tent—Soleil's tent.

In the dim light that filtered through the opening of the tent, he could see that in the other bedroll, for there were only two, was the sleeping form of Soleil.

Then, his own state crashed back into his awareness. Sitting up straight, he looked down at himself as his heart began to thump quickly. His breath caught in his throat.

He was wearing the Midnight Promise. Its heavy dark fabric felt real and solid. Its presence was undeniable against his skinny frame. And resting against his chest was the string necklace known as the Deceitful Feather. The iridescent feather shimmered slightly in the purplish-green gloom.

No way, Hill thought to himself, struggling to believe what he was currently seeing and experiencing. I brought the relics with me... into the real world!