Hels Rebellion

Chapter 41: Believer

The town had never seemed further away.

He wasn't sure if it was because of his anxiety, his exhaustion, or the apprehensive tugging in his stomach telling him to go back, but BadTimes was not having a good time.

It had been so long since he had been to the town, a part of him even feared he had turned the wrong direction.

He shook the thought out of his head. He had walked this path a thousand times, he knew this was right. He knew he was right.

The walk had been considerably undisturbed, outside of Bad's mental anguish. He was fearful that a Helsbeast would be lurking on the path but it seemed that wasn't the case. The trail had become overgrown; covered in leaf litter and new plant growth.

Thank Void he was wearing boots.

His anxieties settled just a small amount when he began to recognize the shadow form of the first watch tower in the distance. Its lanterns had long since gone dark, but the dark outline of the build stood out among the trees.

It was a signal he was halfway there.

He didn't stop by the tower - but he did take a moment to pause and look up at its magnificence.

There were five of these towers around their little area of Hels, usually occupied by one of the townsfolk keeping watch for Helsbeasts or potential wanderers.

This one had been empty ever since Xelqua had taken over.

He had heard that Parson's clergy had still been stopping by, leaving food and water for players at the posts - just in case.

He found the Clergy strange, their obsession with players was... a unique one, but he appreciated their kindness, especially if Grian was right; his friends were real players after all. He wasn't a part of their estranged religious group - but he did have a respect for actual players.

They were just as diverse as the Helsians were, from players like Xelqua to GoodTimeWithScar, the player he shared memories with. GoodTime was sweet and gullible, and kind beyond belief. It was weird to look in the mirror and see such a familiar face...

He knew most of the Helsians felt the same, even Grian. It felt like remembering a life from a different world - from a previous existence.

An existence where everyone seemed to be a better person.

He let out a sigh, kicking a couple of stones off the overgrown path as he walked. He was jealous sometimes, wishing that he could live as one with the hermits, like Grian or GoodTime.

They seemed so.. peaceful and amiable. Even their silly little "wars" were based around fun! The only wars in Hels were between the Castle and the Rouges.. and maybe the Clergy if they felt like picking a fight - and they were never peaceful.

The may have ended with shaking hands and declaring friendships and alliances - but the fights themself were brutal; beating other Helsians within the edge of their lives.

They couldn't afford to die, but sometimes in those conflicts, they did. Even Bad had taken a life with his own hands, and had one of his own taken in return.

He glanced down at the red heart on his wrist; he couldn't play risky anymore. Not like he used to.

Not like how players did.

But those were thoughts for another time. It was so hard not to let his mind wander. He thought about Grian.. about the players.. about Evil X and Helsknight. He missed them.

A branch cracked underfoot and Bad flinched at the sound, reaching for his sword. The forest was silent and he looked down, realizing he had simply stepped on the twig himself.