Awakener's Guide to Climbing the Tower

Nyxie bent, one arm behind his knees, and the other around his back. She lifted him completely off the ground.

The Bard went silent. "..."

Misha stared. "..."

The chat did not.

<The Saint Buried Upside Down> Oh! I am witnessing art!

〔 FAVOR +150 → Gravekeeper 〕

<Observer from the Maestro’s Channel> THE BARD HAS BEEN REDUXED TO CARRY-ON LUGGAGE!!!

<The Saint Buried Upside Down> He has been claimed.

Alaric glanced down at himself, then at Misha’s possessed body. "I feel there has been a severe misunderstanding." Then he cleared his throat. "I should mention that I am still fully capable of walking.

Nyxie kept carrying him.

<Observer from the Maestro’s Channel> Statement ignored. This is funny.

Alaric sighed heavily. Maybe she simply hadn’t hear him.

Then his gaze dropped to the corpses scattered around them. And after a brief pause, he held on her.

<The Saint Buried Upside Down> How adorable~ He’s on the final stage.

<Observer from the Maestro’s Channel> Final stage of what?

<The Saint Buried Upside Down> Being a babygirl.

"..." Misha was rather speechless. How the hell did the Saint know that term?

Nyxie grinned down at him. "Hold on!"

His blue eyes widened as she jumped onto a collapsed awning, then launched herself toward the nearest roof.

Misha floated alongside them. "If Elyes were here, he’d never let me forget this. He’s gonna scold me."

Nyxie laughed. "Why? This is efficient!"

"I’m aware."

"Then what’s wrong?"

Misha looked at the grown man currently being carried across the district like a rescued princess. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

The man appeared to recover halfway across the second rooftop. He adjusted the mandolin against his chest.

"Normally," he said carefully, "I prefer to be the one sweeping beautiful women off their feet."

Nyxie jumped over a gap between buildings.

"Today," he added, considerably less smoothly, "I am willing to reconsider tradition."

Misha sighed. ’Of course.’

Below them, Vestiges flooded into the streets they had abandoned. Nyxie kept to the rooftops whenever possible, avoiding denser groups below, especially the ones with the hooks.

The music had stopped. The last thing they needed was a traveling orchestra advertising their position.

Nyxie scanned the streets. Most doors were shut, many bore warning marks, red paints, white lines, black crosses, then she spotted one farther ahead.A narrow stone house tucked between two taller buildings. Its front door stood open.

"That one."

The man followed her gaze. "That one?"

Misha studied it. Open doors in Exodus were not encouraging. "The chance something is inside is high."

Nyxie looked toward the streets behind them. "The chance something isn’t inside after we dragged half the neighborhood to the square is also pretty high."

Misha paused. "...Fair enough."

Nyxie dropped from the roof and landed hard enough to make the Bard grunt.

"Still alive?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. "Very much so."

"Good!"

Nyxie carried him through the open doorway and finally put him down.

He stumbled once, caught himself against the wall, then immediately began fixing his coat.

’Priorities.’

"Shut the door," Nyxie said. "Before anything sees us."

Alaric–no. The nameless Bard, for now, moved faster than Misha had seen him move during the entire battle. He slammed the heavy iron door and began locking it. The final bolt dropped into place.

He stayed pressed against the door for a second, listening. Nothing struck it. Only then did his shoulders sag. "Finally."

Nyxie drew one of Twinfang’s daggers. "Stay here."

His head snapped toward her. "Where are you going?"

"To check the house."

"Alone?"

Nyxie stared at him, making him glanced down at the mandolin, then toward the staircase, then back at her.

"Yes. Right." he straightened. "Excellent. I shall bravely secure this extremely defensible position."

Misha sighed. "He means he’s staying beside the door."

"I know," Nyxie whispered.

The man narrowed his eyes again. There it was again, that small pause and that curiosity. He definitely knew she was speaking to someone.

Nyxie ignored it and moved through the ground floor, making sure every room was empty. Then she checked the staircase before climbing. The second floor held two bedrooms and one narrow washroom. There were no movements, no walking corpses, and no black filaments. She checked the windows last. Most had heavy shutters that could be secured from inside.

’Lucky us.’ Misha followed Nyxie as she returned downstairs.

The Bard was exactly where she had left him, mostly. He had dragged a chair near the door and was sitting with his mandolin across his lap.

The virtual studio had vanished and he looked much less impressive without the battlefield music.

His face was definitely Misha’s type, just overly decorated. He was also still suspiciously composed for someone who had screamed ’save me’ approximately twenty times.

Nyxie sheathed the dagger. "All clear."

The man released a breath. "Wonderful..."

"You’ll be safe here for a while."

Misha smiled softly. "Thanks, Nyx."

Nyxie’s expression warmed beneath the mask. "Obviously."

For all her energy, impulsiveness, and tendency to treat combat like a festival, Nyxie had always been dependable when it mattered.

Nyxie glanced toward the shuttered windows. "Stay here for the night."

Misha nodded in agreement. "Will do."

The guard at the chapel had been nowhere near aggressive like the Vestiges they fought. The change after sunset had been immediate. Whatever the Husk did to its host, darkness, or whatever passed for night in Exodus, clearly intensified its behavior.

Nyxie tapped one finger against Twinfang’s sheath. "We don’t know what else comes out after dark. Better to wait until there’s light again before looking for Lysa."

"And it gives the Possession Limit time to recover."

"Exactly." Nyxie smiled proudly. "See? Responsible."

Misha gave her a look. "You smashed three corpses through a building because the background music excited you."

"Responsible now." She laughed. Then her expression softened. "Get some rest, Mishy."

"Go. I’ve got it."

Nyxie nodded. "Call me if you need me."

"You’ll be in cooldown."

"Call me afterward, then."

Misha smiled. "Thanks."

「 Aries Constellation Soul has relinquished control. 」

Misha dropped back into her body and immediately discovered exactly how tired her legs were. Her knees softened. "Whoa–"

Hands caught her from behind. One arm steadied her around the waist while the other caught her upper arm before she could hit the floor.

Misha stiffened. "..."

"Easy." The Bard’s voice sounded very different without magical accompaniment. Closer and lower.

Misha regained her footing and immediately stepped out of his hold. "T-Thanks."

She straightened the front of her transformed cloak. It did not need fixing. Her hands simply needed something to do. Then she turned. Up close, he looked even more mature than she had first assumed.

His blue eyes studied her carefully, not casually since he had been listening earlier. His gaze flicked briefly toward her eyes then to her empty hand, then back to the mask. Now the loud, energetic woman who had carried him across rooftops had been replaced by someone quieter and visibly guarded. He was smart enough to notice and polite enough not to ask immediately. That earned him one point.

"I should be the one thanking you," he said as he stepped closer. Then he reached for her hand.

Misha looked down, raising a brow beneath her mask.

Before she could decide whether to pull away, his gloved fingers had already taken hers with practiced gentleness. He bowed, then pressed a light kiss to the back of her hand.

She went completely still.

<The Saint Buried Upside Down> OH, I’M STAYING!

〔 FAVOR +200 → Gravekeeper 〕

<Observer from the Maestro’s Channel> HERE IT COMES

<Observer from the Maestro’s Channel> He’s doing the voice

Misha almost looked around. ’The voice?’

He raised his head, the crooked smile returned as his thumb rested lightly against her knuckles. "My name is Alaric Valehart."

Misha’s thoughts stalled. ’Valehart?’

The name was familiar. She had heard it before but where?

Her tired brain refused to retrieve the answer. She slowly pulled her hand back while staring blankly at him. "Gravekeeper."

Alaric’s smile widened. "Gravekeeper." He repeated it as though testing how the name sounded. Then his blue eyes brightened. "A little ominous."

She folded her arms. "You were singing to corpses five minutes ago."

"Yes. But now that we’ve survived, I feel honesty is important." He leaned slightly closer. "I was serious about the drink."

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