Vex still couldn't access his system, and it was starting to frustrate him.

The system had been the cause of a lot of problems. He'd never really liked it because of that. Half of Elyra's problems existed because of the system, and though one could argue that it was more the fault of the people who used the system, well... it didn't change the fact that the system itself did very little to discourage the problems it caused.

He didn't really blame Sev for it. It wasn't like he'd been part of creating the thing in the first place—it sounded like he'd only really had to learn how it worked and begin to modify it after everything began to fall apart. And he doubted the people that created it would have predicted Elyra's abuses, either.

The point of all this was that he was starting to miss being able to access his system. Not because of the spells it granted him, or even because of his stats, which he still mostly had access to anyway. He felt... a little slower than he would have if he'd had full access to the system, maybe, but even then that was more likely the result of the ever-persistent ache in his soul than a lack of access to the system.

No, the aspect of it that he missed was being able to contact his friends. Being able to talk to Derivan or Sev or Misa no matter where he was, even if he was separated from them by a dungeon, or if he'd gone off on his own somewhere. That function of the system was part of how he knew he was never alone.

Now... Well, now he felt more alone than ever.

It didn't help that whatever iteration of Enkiros he'd found himself in was completely empty. More and more he was starting to suspect that this fragment wasn't even one of the possibilities that had been detailed in the semerit. It seemed more likely that this was a reality that had emerged... deformed, somehow. Like something had been cut away from what was supposed to be here at the last second, or like someone had tried to modify it.

"Wish I didn't hurt so much," Vex muttered. He said the words mostly to hear himself speak, but even saying them made his eyes sting. The sound echoed in the empty streets, and his voice sounded so weak, so frail...

It reminded him of the painful reality that he might die. The pain wasn't decreasing. The ache in his chest only grew, and Vex couldn't tell how much of it was due to injury and how much of it was because his heart struggled desperately with the thought of leaving his friends—his family, now—behind.

Not to mention his actual family. He liked Helix now. He'd never get to see what Riss would be like when he grew up. He hadn't even gotten the chance to talk to any of his other siblings again after Elyra's evacuation, and he felt a little guilty about that—but he'd just been so busy, and a part of him hadn't forgiven them for the part they had to play in his childhood.

Helix had earned his forgiveness, at least. Vex didn't know where he stood with anyone else in the family, but Helix had changed his mind all by himself, and he'd worked to change things in Vex's absence. It was more than Vex could say he had done. He'd never gotten involved in Elyra's rebellion. He hadn't even known it existed.

"Fuck," Vex said numbly. He stared at his reflection in a nearby shop. Was it just him, or were his scales paler than they normally were? "I feel like I messed up."

The worst part was that he didn't even know if he'd change anything, given the chance. They needed Enkiros back—that much hadn't changed. If he succeeded, then this would be worth it.

That if felt like it was a lot more uncertain than it should've been.

With a sigh—and lacking any other options, really—Vex walked up to the door of the shop and pushed open the door, letting the sound of the bell wash over him. Warm scents met him almost immediately. He was momentarily struck by the smell of freshly-baked bread and freshly-brewed coffee, of toast and butter and just the slightest hint of cinnamon.

He'd walked into some sort of bakery, it seemed. Or a cafe of some kind. It seemed comfortable. Cozy. The seats were plush, and they even had a little gap near the back for lizardkin to slot their tails into; too many establishments didn't bother to provide for them that way.

It was also clean, which was a plus. Vex had lost count of the number of times he'd had to slide his tail into a gap ostensibly made for lizardkin and then realized it hadn't been cleaned for months. Cue at least an hour of scrubbing to make sure it was clean.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

These days, at least, he had Derivan to help.

Tears pricked at his eyes again, and he did his best to ignore them. What good did crying do? He wanted—he needed a break, and this place seemed ideal for one. He'd take that break, and he'd enjoy warm toast and a buttery croissant.

Vex wandered over to the counter. He picked for himself a fresh loaf of bread, cut himself a few slices, then slid those slices into the nearby toaster.

A small flicker of realization. Without access to his system, he couldn't see the mana racing into the internal runes to heat up the bread. He could still feel the mana. His connection with magic was a part of him, now. But he couldn't see it.

He didn't realize he'd miss the little things this much.

A lot of the food was still warm, so that was nice, at least. He plucked the toast from the toaster once it was done, scarcely noticing the heat that should have burned him, then grabbed some butter and some boilberry jam. He spread them on his toast, grabbed a croissant from behind the glass, and then sat himself down in the comfiest-looking booth.

Boilberry jam was the preferred jam of this bakery, apparently; it was the only one he could find. And once he ate it, he realized why. The damn thing was delicious. Why did all the boilberries he'd had before taste like mush?

...Maybe they were named boilberries for a reason and he should have boiled them.

Vex chuckled to himself, ignoring the wetness still trailing down his cheeks, and ate his toast.

It was good toast. The croissant was good, too. As far as last meals went, that wasn't too bad.

What a morbid thought. A small smile stole across his face—he could already imagine Misa scolding him for it. Telling him off for giving up when he should have been fighting with everything he had to live.

"...You know what?" Vex said. He ignored the ache in his chest, finished off the rest of his toast, scarfed down the croissant, then grabbed a random bottle of juice. "You're right, imaginary-version-of-Misa-that-exists-only-in-my-head. I'm not just gonna lie down and die. I'm going to figure this out."

He was still crying when he walked out of the bakery, but he didn't mind. The tears reminded him he still had something to live for. They reminded him he was still alive to cry.

"Now let's figure out where to begin," he muttered. He glanced up at the sky, trying to gauge how much time had passed. It didn't really help—the sun was nowhere in sight, and it hadn't been when he'd first shown up here, either.

But there was something there, now that he looked at it. A bright spot he'd initially dismissed as a cloud reflecting sunlight, but was holding too steadily to actually be a cloud. For that matter, it wasn't shaped like one.

"Mana," he said to himself. A small fragment of the Primordial Glyph, if he wasn't mistaken, powerful enough to be seen with the naked eye. For a moment, he was a little stunned that that amount of power had come out of him—and then he remembered the price he'd paid for it.

He supposed it made sense, now.

"Well, if all else fails..." Vex muttered. "Let's go where the mana leads me—one last time."

Misa was halfway through smashing a wall when Derivan suddenly spoke up.

"He is headed toward us," Derivan said. Misa glanced at him sharply. The armor sounded surprised, but more than that, he sounded hopeful; Derivan had been mostly despondent up until now.

"That's more like it." Misa couldn't help but grin at the news—that sounded a lot more like the Vex she'd grown to love in all their time together. A spunky little lizard that refused to give up no matter how much the odds were stacked against him. Truth was, the news that had made her heart drop the most was when Derivan told her Vex wasn't moving. That he was curled up somewhere, just... sitting.

"If he is also moving toward us," Derivan said. The armor closed his eyes briefly like he was trying to map out the hugely complicated space they were in—and then he nodded to himself. "Then I believe I know where he is likely to go. It will be faster if we change routes."

"...So I don't have to smash this wall?" Misa glanced at said half-smashed wall and sighed. "Pity. The shopkeeper was kind of an asshole."

"We will use a different exit," Derivan said. Misa could see him focusing on finding it, like he was scanning through the entire kingdom with a sense that only he had. She might have been able to pull off something similar with Endless Echoes, but she couldn't imagine how many iterations that would've taken. "This way."

"Any weird conditions we need to fulfill to get through this particular exit?"

A slight pause, and then Derivan sighed; his response sounded slightly embarrassed. "Apparently," he said, "Enkiros holds a dance festival every year as a celebration of a past victory. We will have to reenact this in order to proceed into the next fragment, as it is a fragment based on that victory."

Misa blinked once. "...How do you even know all this stuff?" she eventually asked. "There's no way Shift alone is enough."

Derivan shrugged. "One of my Remembrances belonged to the former King of Enkiros," he answered simply.

Misa sighed. That... made sense, she supposed.

"Let's just get this over with," she said, her tone begrudging.

"I suspect you will be surprised—there is much to learn from this festival." Derivan paused, looking a little stricken. "If we had the time..."

"We'll have the time later," Misa said, her tone softening into something more gentle. "Come on, Der. Vex is waiting for us."