Eryk snapped back to reality, and the first thing he did was the most rational thing he could think of—"Holy fuck!" he shouted. "Jesus Christ! Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew—"
So that's what the book meant by "therapy." Crap like that existed everywhere? And how was he supposed to sleep at night knowing things like that were hiding behind his trash can?
And the whispering under the bed…
Oh God, was that another abomination?
He swung his legs off the bed and jabbed at the air, afraid of touching something invisible. After confirming—through sheer panic—that he couldn't actually feel anything lurking in the Netherecho, he finally managed to calm down.
There wasn't really a need to enter the Netherecho in his apartment anyway. Low-level wild vestiges appeared all over the place; he could just go to the park when he wanted some.
But… why? Couldn't they be, I don't know, cute kittens? Did it have to be a bloody skeleton?
He groaned, flopping back onto the bed. Screw therapy. He should call an exterminator—or—
"Please," something whispered into his ear. "Come back."
"Oh, fuck—" He jumped up, heart hammering. Did he just imagine that? He must have.
"Oh please, tell me I imagined that… Please…" he begged, frozen. "Oh, thank God—"
"Please… Master."
"Oh fuckity fuck! It's climbing on me!" he yelled, waving his hands at thin air, trying to swat an invisible skeleton away.
Eryk ripped his shirt off and hurled it to the corner, then dove behind the trash can, using it as a shield.
Standing there, frozen, he realized he couldn't see anything. The best plan would be to run for help—but what if it was still on him?
He didn't know for sure, but there was clearly something abnormal about this thing. Somehow, it could affect reality outside the Netherecho.
If it attacked him, who knew if it could hurt him? But maybe, if he could locate it, he could fight back. In and out. In and out. Just enter, check, and leave. Got it.
Since he'd done it twice before, appearing in his ethercosm was easier now. He didn't even need to imagine a door. Standing upright, he concentrated on appearing atop his head, probably the safest spot. Hopefully.
In and out. Focused on the door. With a thought, he entered—and immediately, numbness hit his side. His world spun, a jet of water slammed into his projection, sending him crashing against the wall. He landed wet behind the trash can.
What… just happened?
He couldn't move. Reality felt distant, flashing with cold and terror. Shifting his head, he glimpsed his projection: a massive hole in his torso, streams of color leaking out.
"Waaah!" the glass ball vestige atop the fridge wailed, water sloshing inside. "You brought it back here! You stupid stupid stupid! Waaah!"
Ah… right.
He barely lifted his head to see the garbage can. A bloody, dripping skull peeked out. Was this the end?
"No… please," he whispered, fragile and buzzing, "I haven't done anything yet… Please. Please don't kill me."
The crimson skeleton stared, towering over his flickering form. Its empty eye sockets glowed red. Its jaw clicked as fury flared—but it didn't look at him. Instead, it turned to the glass orb on the fridge.
"What are you looking at!?" the orb spat, sending water at the skeleton. "Waaaaah! You're scary! I don't like you!"
The skeleton climbed the fridge, grabbed the orb, and slammed it repeatedly. It shattered into motes of blue light, which the skeleton scooped up and shoved at Eryk' projection. He absorbed the motes, repairing his projection. Its core color shifted from pure white to a splotchy blue.
Instantly, he rushed past the skeleton, touched his real body, jumped over the trash can, and bolted toward the door.
But the doorknob shook. His heart pounded. Sweat poured. He forced himself to open it—but—
"Shit!" he yelled, returning again to the Netherecho, now standing on his left shoulder for protection.
The skeleton below reached for his legs. Eryk waved and screamed: "No! Bad skeleton! Get off me!"
The skeleton obeyed, retreating. Eryk whispered, dumbfounded: "This can't be happening…"
Vestiges weren't supposed to have free will—they followed ideas obsessively. But this skeleton had latched onto him. Judging by its size, it wasn't a vestige—it was a remnant. Those were rare, appearing only in ether-dense areas. So… why here?
His mind clicked. "The clothes!" Monster blood had pooled in his trash a day ago. That explained it.
Personified ether constructs always told the truth if asked. Eryk decided to start with the obvious: "You… do you intend to kill me?"
"No. Absolutely not, my lord."
"Did that thing just call me 'my lord'?"
He pressed on: "Why are you following me?"
"I am bloodshed," it said. "You are the one who sheds blood. You are fated to bathe the universe in red."
"Huh?" Eryk gawked.
"Through bloodshed, you rejected death," it explained. "You traded peaceful prosperity for uncertainty. Fortune, fate, power—nothing can stop you from this path."
Well… given recent events, even he could see why it thought that. But the skeleton seemed… devoted, not malicious.
He decided to test it. "My… uh… minion! I give you a command!"
"It shall be done, Your Grace."
"Get rid of all the other vestiges in this room."
The skeleton methodically smashed them: the chubby one, the glass, the clock vestige, and even the tiny boogeyman under the bed. Efficient and terrifying.
"That is all of them, my liege," it said.
Eryk coughed nervously. "Good job… uh…"
The skeleton turned. "I am Bloodshed. Unless you wish another name?"
"No… Bloodshed's fine," he muttered. Nervously. "Charming, actually."
He decided the skeleton couldn't stay in his apartment. Hallway or chest wouldn't work—objects only temporarily blocked constructs. He settled on the storage room downstairs.
"Bloodshed," he said. "It's cramped here. Want somewhere else?"
"My liege, I obey."
Eryk led it out. A neighbor passed, shooting him a half-terrified glance, as he awkwardly held the door. Shirtless. Probably traumatizing.
He returned the skeleton to the Netherecho, put it in a box, taped it, and labeled it fragile.
Back in his apartment, Eryk collapsed on the bed, laughing. What was his life anymore? A few days ago, he was a cashier. Now he was an arch with a remnant.
Unable to resist, he returned to the Netherecho. His room was filled with specks of floating color. He absorbed a few wisps manually, feeling the faint satisfaction of tiny victories.
A force yanked him back to reality. Knocking sounded at the door.
He got up, shaking. The door opened to reveal a young man with onyx hair, gray hoodie, and black sweatpants. "Hey there, kid! Are you perhaps Eryk Stern?"