Pathfinder Ritual?

You always fall for the same trick, Anchor... At least it wasn't the other guy. I haven't found its weak point.

The Plaguewalker lampooned,with fatigue he adjusted the broken mask, ensuring it still covered his face.

Faust stood frozen for a moment, watching the strange man's movements. I wonder what my Echo would look like.

The Plaguewalker glanced back at the stunned group.

The carriage driver seemed to shake himself out of a daze and quickly tapped Faust on the shoulder.

"Go help the Plaguewalker," he said firmly.

Without hesitation or a word, Faust hurried toward the Plaguewalker, his mind racing. When he reached the Plaguewalker, he saw the deep gashes on his arms and the blood staining his clothes.How is he still standing with wounds like that?

"Sir, what am I helping with?" Faust asked, his voice unsure as he tried not to stare at the wounds.

The Plaguewalker raised a hand and pointed at the corpse of the Greater Spirit lying nearby.

Faust blinked and took a step back. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

The Plaguewalker slowly turned his head toward Faust. The mask hid his expression, but the weight of his stare pierced through. Faust felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

"Take it there," the Plaguewalker said simply, gesturing toward the glowing rift in the distance.

Faust frowned but nodded reluctantly. He moved to grab the corpse by the legs, while the Plaguewalker took hold of its arms. The two lifted the body, its weight forcing Faust to stumble slightly before finding his footing.

As they carried the corpse, the carriage driver turned to Claire and Gelatea. "Let's follow them. It's time for the ritual."

Gelatea hesitated, her face pale. She swallowed hard and whispered to Claire, "I've never gone past the rift before".

Gelatea's family's Spirit sanctum - The Obscura Beads allowed for a controlled instant teleportation so she never really used public transports.

Claire nodded calmly. " Don't worry,the ritual makes it safe."

Ahead, Faust and the Plaguewalker reached the rift and dropped the corpse onto the ground. The Plaguewalker crouched down and began tracing a large circle around the body with his finger, his movements precise and deliberate.

Faust squinted at the markings, his curiosity growing. "What's he doing?"

Claire stayed quiet, but the carriage driver leaned toward them and whispered, "This is the Pathfinder Ritual. It's a major requirement for crossing a rift safely."

Raising his head as if confirming if the plaguewalker was done with his recitation and preparation he continued, "The remains of a creature from the rift are the main requirement. That's why some of us carriage owners buy them from the black market—to avoid battles like this."

Faust felt a chill creep up his spine. Remains of a being from the rift… what about a person? He shook the thought away, shivering at the implication.

Gelatea cleared her throat nervously, breaking the silence.

"Let's begin," the Plaguewalker interrupted, his voice cutting through the tension.

The carriage driver quickly moved to the edge of the circle, standing opposite the Plaguewalker. The masked figure adjusted his headgear again, his fingers brushing the cracked side of the mask. For a brief moment, part of his face was visible before he reached into a hidden compartment in the lower part of the beak.

He pulled out a small pouch, its contents wrapped in a thin nylon sheet. Squatting down, he carefully emptied the powder onto the ground, forming a small pile. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a spark ignited the powder. A calming scent of lavender wafted through the air, masking the metallic tang of blood.

The Plaguewalker summoned his Spirit Gear with an effortless motion. A faint glow surrounded him as the ethereal pendulum materialized. He stepped into the circle,channeling energy from his spirit gear, the air around him humming with energy.

Understanding his role, the carriage driver extended a hand. Ethereal particles gathered in the space beside him, forming into a full-sized carriage hitched to two spectral yet corporeal horses.

Faust's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's his Spirit Gear? The carriage?"

Claire leaned closer, her voice low. ""That's his spirit gear, just his. It's not like every carriage driver has a carriage for a spirit gear".

The horses neighed softly, their glowing forms shifting as the driver calmed them with a steady hand. Channeling, he guided them into the circle and took his position beside the Plaguewalker. The rift pulsed with light, as if acknowledging their presence.

The Plaguewalker stepped to the corpse and dipped a finger into the ichor pooling from one of its wounds. With precise strokes, he walked to the carriage and drew a symbol on its side. The glow from the rift dimmed as the corpse's spiritual essence was slowly absorbed.

Faust watched,observing the plaguewalker who was reciting some strange words, his chest tightening with a mix of awe and unease. Is this the Spirit Tongue I read about in the library?

The carriage driver, as if sensing Faust's thoughts, glanced at him and whispered, "That's the Pathfinder mark. The rift won't let you through otherwise."

The Plaguewalker straightened, his tone flat but final. "It's done."

The circle, now void of power, was scattered with a few kicks. The Plaguewalker walked toward the carriage without looking back.

The driver, visibly drained from channeling energy into his Spirit Gear, turned to Claire. "We can go now."

Twilight had fallen, casting a dim light over the scene. Faust lingered for a moment, staring at the rift.

The group fell silent as the carriage passed through the rift, leaving the familiar behind.

Daylight greeted them on the other side, stark and sudden, as if they'd stepped into another world.

Before them loomed a massive gateway, its towering arches carved with intricate designs that seemed to shift under the twin suns' light. The rays pierced the scattered clouds, leaving golden trails in their wake.

Two women stood by the gate, their dresses perfectly fitted with structured bodices and long sleeves that puffed subtly at the shoulders. Their poised movements and calm smiles betrayed the practiced elegance of those long accustomed to ceremony.

Nearby, a man in an overcoat clutched his cane and hat, gesturing with quiet authority as families bid emotional farewells to the new arrivals.

Faust leaned closer to the carriage window. The sight of the twin suns caught his attention—their glowing orbs hung in a sky so vast it seemed to stretch endlessly. For a moment, the scene felt surreal, as though he'd stumbled into the pages of an old fable.

The carriage came to a halt, and they stepped out. Gelatea's gaze lingered on the horizon, her lips curling into a faint smile. "The twin suns are even more beautiful than the stories give them credit for," she said, her voice filled with awe.

When Faust didn't respond, she turned to him and tapped his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly.

He blinked, as if startled awake. "What?"

She followed his gaze to see what had held him so transfixed.

A girl stood a short distance away, her figure draped in black. She wore a high-necked top with dramatic, voluminous sleeves that tapered sharply at the wrists.

Her hair was cut into a sleek, angular bob that framed her pale face—an expression both haunting and captivating etched upon her features. There was a peculiar stillness about her, as though she were caught between the present and a shadowed past. Alone, she held her luggage close, seemingly untethered to the crowd around her.

Gelatea glanced at Faust and chuckled softly. "Already?"

Faust rolled his eyes and gave her a playful shove. "Shut up."

They approached the man directing the new arrivals, but Faust's thoughts remained elsewhere. He couldn't help but glance back at the girl. Her presence seemed to weigh on the air itself, drawing his focus despite his best efforts.

As he watched, their eyes met. Hers were deep and unblinking, a gaze that seemed to strip away pretenses. For a brief moment, Faust felt a sharp pain lance through his temples, a discomfort he couldn't explain. He quickly turned away, rubbing at his eyes as if to shake the sensation.

"Welcome," the man said, his voice calm but firm, commanding attention. "Welcome to the Spirit Academia."

The gateway loomed ahead, and with it, the promise of change.

Faust couldn't help but glance back one more time, but the girl had already disappeared into the crowd.