August woke to the sound of someone whistling an aggressively cheerful tune that definitely didn't belong in a dimensional disaster zone.
He sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes, and found Lyka perched on a boulder twenty feet away. She was sharpening her sonic daggers and humming along with her own whistling, creating a bizarre harmony that somehow made the fractures in reality feel less threatening.
"Morning, Sparkles!" she called. "Sleep well? I've been waiting for you to wake up for like an hour. You snore, by the way. Very undignified for a protagonist."
"Lyka?" August rubbed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Following the same trail you are, obviously." She gestured toward Arthur's dimensional markers. "Though I have to say, your boy Arthur really knows how to make an exit. Half the countryside is leaking into other dimensions."
August packed his gear while Lyka continued her aggressive cheerfulness.
"Seriously though," she said, testing the edge of a dagger, "you looked like you could use some company. Walking alone through dimensional chaos is bad for your mental health. Trust me, I've tried it."
"Don't you have your own zones to hunt?" August asked.
Lyka's expression went briefly complicated. "Yeah, well, turns out most of the zones I hunt are now leaking nightmare creatures from other dimensions. Makes the job significantly more complicated."
She stood up and shouldered her pack, which August noticed was significantly more substantial than his.
"Besides," she added, "I'm curious about this Solvain Protocol thing. Arthur implementing a suicide mission without backup? That's either really stupid or really necessary, and I want to know which."
They started walking together through the unstable landscape. Lyka chattered constantly, filling the air with observations, complaints, and random theories about zone behavior. It was oddly comforting after days of traveling alone through increasingly hostile territory.
"So the thing about dimensional fractures," Lyka said, hopping over a crack that showed glimpses of what looked like an ocean made of mathematics, "is that they're not random. See how this one connects to that one over there? They're following some kind of pattern."
August looked. She was right. The fractures formed rough geometric shapes when viewed from the right angle.
"Summoning circle," August muttered. "The Zone Kings aren't just breaking reality randomly. They're preparing for something."
"Bingo." Lyka grinned. "Something big is coming through those fractures. Something that needs a really large doorway."
August's Foundation monitor flickered green as they encountered pockets of dimensional contamination.
"You know," Lyka said, watching his immunity system adapt, "that's a really interesting Foundation type. Adaptive Immunity is rare. Most people get one or two specific protections and that's it."
"It has… limitations," August said, checking his list. Still specialized for dimensional threats. Still vulnerable to most physical ones.
"Everything has limitations," Lyka said philosophically. "My sonic daggers work great on Forsaken, but they're useless against anything with proper harmonic dampening. Trade-offs everywhere."
She pulled one out to show him. Up close, it was clearly improvised — a resonance core from zone equipment welded to a knife handle with obvious care, but questionable technique.
"I built these from salvage," Lyka explained. "After my first encounter with Arthur, actually. Figured if I was going to survive in this business, I needed better equipment."
"Your first encounter with Arthur," August said carefully. "What was that like?"
Lyka went quiet, her usual chatter fading.
"It was… educational," she said at last. "I was trapped in a collapsing zone with thirty other people. Standard evacuation gone wrong — Zone King went berserk, reality started falling apart, emergency protocols failed."
She kicked a small rock into a fracture and watched it disappear.
"Arthur showed up when things were really bad. Pulled everyone he could out of the collapse. Saved maybe twenty people."
"That's good, right?"
"Yeah. Except he looked me in the eye when deciding who to save and who to leave behind." Her voice went flat. "I was on the 'leave behind' list. Too injured. Too likely to slow him down."
August stopped walking. "But you survived."
"I did." Her grin came back, but it was sharper now. "Turns out spite is an excellent survival motivator. I dragged myself out of that collapse through sheer determination to prove Arthur wrong."
"And now you're following his trail."
"Now I'm following his trail," she confirmed. "Because despite everything, he was right. Saving twenty was better than losing all thirty trying to save everyone. But I still want to punch him in the face for how coldly he made that call."
She started walking again, her stride aggressive.
"That's the thing about Arthur. He makes the right choices for all the wrong reasons. Or maybe the wrong reasons for all the right choices. I haven't decided which."
They traveled through increasingly unstable terrain, Lyka providing a steady stream of commentary.
"See that fracture? Bleeding temporal energy. Don't look at it too long or you'll start aging backwards. And that one's leaking conceptual parasites — they'll try to convince you you don't actually exist."
August's Foundation adapted to each new hazard, building an impressive collection of dimensional immunities while losing everything else.
"You're becoming really specialized," Lyka observed. "Pretty soon you'll be immune to everything dimensional and vulnerable to everything normal."
"Is that bad?"
"Depends on what we run into next." She pointed to a cluster of crystalline structures ahead. "But I'm guessing we're about to find out."
The structures formed a Forsaken settlement unlike anything August had seen. These Forsaken weren't biologically modified or geometrically perfect — they flickered between multiple versions of themselves, existing in several realities at once.
"Multi-dimensional Forsaken," Lyka said, checking her weapons. "These are the dangerous ones. They can attack from realities where your defenses don't exist."
August watched the flickering figures. From some angles, they looked almost normal. From others, completely alien.
"They don't look hostile," he said.
"They're not. Yet. Multi-dimensional Forsaken start peaceful. It's when they coordinate their multiple selves that they become a problem."
One approached them, its form shifting across variants of itself.
"Travelers," it said in a harmonized voice. "You seek the Silence-Bringer."
"We're following Arthur's trail," August said.
"Arthur Solvain passed this way. He spoke with our Collective about the Protocol."
The Forsaken's selves conferred silently before it continued.
"We offered assistance. The Protocol requires dimensional expertise. We have such expertise."
"And?" Lyka asked.
"He declined. Said the Protocol was designed for one person. Said additional participants would compromise the outcome."
The Forsaken's selves looked sad across multiple versions.
"We believe he is wrong. The Protocol will fail without support. But he would not listen."
August and Lyka exchanged glances.
"What exactly is the Solvain Protocol?" August asked.
The Forsaken conferred again.
"It is a method for severing dimensional connections between zone networks. A way to prevent cascade failures across infinite realities by collapsing the entire multiversal framework."
"That sounds…" August started.
"Wait," Lyka cut in. "Hold on. Severing connections to stop cascade failure? That's like burning down the house to kill a spider."
She turned to the Forsaken, her cheer gone.
"The fractures aren't infinite. I see the pattern. They're localized — a dozen connected realities at most. You could stabilize the anchor points instead of destroying everything."
The Forsaken didn't reply.
"You could stabilize them, couldn't you?" she pressed. "That's basic dimensional maintenance. Why would Arthur choose destruction over something that simple?"
Still no answer. Their forms flickered with discomfort.
"They're not talking," Lyka said, voice sharp. "Why aren't they talking?"
She pulled August aside.
"Okay. So Arthur's planning multiversal suicide to 'save everyone,'" she said, air-quoting. "But that's not a solution. That's overkill to the point of insanity."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean these fractures can be fixed. Even I know how to anchor dimensional breakpoints, and I'm a scavenger with scrap-tech."
She glanced back at the silent Forsaken.
"Arthur's not trying to save the multiverse. He's trying to destroy it. The question is why — and what he's covering up."
"You think Arthur is lying?"
"I think he's hiding something. Big enough that he'd rather erase infinite realities than let it get out."
They thanked the Forsaken and continued on Arthur's trail.
"You know," Lyka said as they walked, "this is why traveling companions matter. Two people can figure out what one person alone never could."
"Is that why you're traveling with me?"
"Partly." She grinned. "Also because you're entertaining. Not many people can stay optimistic while hiking through fractured dimensions."
"I'm not sure how optimistic I am anymore."
"Trust me. Compared to most zone hunters, you're practically a ray of sunshine." She gestured at the cracked landscape. "Most of us get bitter within a year. You're still trying to help people."
"Arthur's trying to help too."
"Yeah. But Arthur helps by dying for people. That's different."
That night, they camped in a pocket of stable reality. Lyka proved to be an excellent companion — better supplies, more hazard experience, and endless stories.
"So there I was," she said, cooking something that smelled surprisingly good, "trapped in a zone made of aggressive music, and my sonic daggers were just making it worse…"
August laughed. For the first time in days, something felt normal. Firelight. Campfire stories. A companion who didn't think he was crazy for trying.
"You know what the weirdest part is?" Lyka said, leaning back.
"What?"
"I think we might actually be able to help Arthur. Two people with complementary skills, tracking him, learning about the Protocol before we catch up?" She grinned. "That's either a great rescue mission or a spectacular failure."
"I'm hoping rescue."
"Me too, Sparkles. Me too."
That night, August fell asleep to the sound of Lyka's quiet humming and the soft crackle of reality warping in the distance.
For the first time since arriving, he didn't feel alone.
Maybe Lyka was right. Two people could come up with answers one person couldn't. Maybe it would be enough to stop Arthur from dying for the world again.
"Maybe that's what friends are for," August whispered. "Not creating each other. Just… refusing to let each other face the impossible alone."
In the morning, they would continue.
But tonight, he slept peacefully.