Ash drove himself to an abandoned house near where Lucien first attacked him. The place was deserted after the owners died due to a Kraegan incident with the HVA. One of the many reasons the public dislikes them is their excessive collateral damage. He sat in an empty bedroom with nothing but the cobwebs and moldy walls to keep him company.
Hearing the story from the Priest rattled his cage greatly. In a way, deep in his subconscious, he knew that the system had to have had an evil figure famous for housing it. The name of it was a fat common-sense warning if there ever was one. Maybe it was because he didn't want to accept it or didn't try to understand its origins, but now he realized who he was. He was the new Headless Horseman.
He banged the back of his head on the wall he was sitting up against, frustrated and hurting at his rotten fate and terrible luck. He finally gained the power to kill the Kraegans like he always wanted, but not this kind of power. It was too much, almost suffocating for him to accept.
"I'm him. I'm him now. I'm the Headless Fucken Horseman. Of all the cruelest jokes, this is the crappiest comedy that I can be written in."
The system popped up, now delivering the message the little girl mentioned to the Priest before about Ash learning of the Hessian legend.
{Congratulations. The host has learned more about the system and the original Horseman—reward: Hessian Robes. The user is granted the armor of Predecessors before the current host. Armor can be equipped at will and grants the user special attributes. User will gain immunity to fire, including User's own flames, Master level Skill for military tactics, swordsmanship, marksmanship, horseback riding, intimidation tactics, hunting prowess, and adaptability against elemental abilities User has not yet gained immunity to. Does the User wish to equip Hessian Robes now or later?}
Ash was ready to tell the system to 'piss off' for the moment because he wasn't in the mood for some fancy clothes worn by one of the most notorious killers in history. More so, he didn't want to look more the part of the Horseman than he already felt.
"How dare you ask me that. I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't want to be a monster. I just wanted to avenge my family and stop others from ending up like me. I don't want this burden, I don't want this suffering, I don't want this responsibility. It's too much, it's all too much!"
He rocked back and forth, his face buried in his arms, clenching at his knees. He tried to sing Amelia's song to calm down before he had another emotional breakdown. He couldn't carry the tune or even keep up with a few of the words. It kept breaking after one or two lines.
He tried to keep up. The memories of her comforting him were a nice start. But then they shifted to the ones after Isaac died. Seeing Amelia work herself to the point of sickness, not getting any benefits because of the dishonorable discharge mark Isaac got. The hard work to pay for the funeral and losing their old home, to the nights she cried herself to sleep holding a pillow, begging for Isaac to come back in her dreams.
Ash hated how the universe used these memories like emotional blackmail to get him to move forward. But he knew he had to; the Priest was right about one thing. He couldn't run away from this; this was his responsibility now. Who knows what would happen if he gave up and someone else got the Darkmold? Would they be stronger than him to hold it back, or just a psychopath who got a free murder tool to have fun with? Ash left his self-pitying position, stood up, took a couple of breaths, and focused on the system screen.
"Yes, I accept the reward. Equip it now, I want to see what my cross is to bear going forward."
The system acknowledged, and in a flash of light, it put on the clothing of the Horseman upon him.
The outfit was a mix of colonial soldier garb and a bit of a naval uniform from their respective era. The system customized it,
It was all black, with chalk-colored trim on the sleeve cuffs, the inner linings of the coat, and even inside the hood. The jacket had multiple pockets and a bandolier with ammo pouches across the chest. The shoulder pads were covered in rounded iron armor, the left sleeve a leather arm guard for Quothe to sit upon. Chain mail armor underneath a black Henley shirt. A hood that could cover Ash's face and a mask to cover his mouth inside the hood, carrying straps on the back of the coat to hold the axe, and a long gun. Large black gloves with iron knuckle dusters attached to them, black pants, black boots with spurs, and a boot knife on the left boot.
Ash looked around the room; he saw a broken, dirty mirror staring back at him. Gripping the collar of his shirt, taking in the moment, wearing the clothes felt all too natural to him, which worried him that he was embracing the Hessian legacy as if it were meant for him.
{Success. Hessian Robes have been bonded to the User. Notice: advanced selection of shop items has been unlocked. Does the user wish to use the shop at this time?}
Ash didn't say a word; he just nodded, keeping his eyes closed and head down. The shop reopened; the fourth block that had been locked before was now open, and it read 'Legacy'. Ash opened his eyes to see the option, clicked it, and the system explained it was a list of items used by previous hosts, now available to gain. They were a special prize for further increased knowledge gain of the Horseman system, to further strengthen the Darkmold.
Ash reviewed his first reward; the system awarded him a rifle held by the second host. The rifle was a Jaeger Rifle, a flintlock rifle that was a signature firearm for Hessian mercenaries. It was shorter than the ones used by the American soldiers, measuring about 25 inches. The system had adapted the rifle, upgrading it with greater power, making the shots fired from it devastating, explosive-caliber rounds, and even changing its firing capabilities from the normal one-shot, then reload procedures flintlocks were known for to automatic reloading on its own with a 10-second reload delay. The rifle's wood, like the clothes he obtained, was black, the metal was silver, with the buttstock having a crucifix design. Ash accepted the rifle; the rifle materialized in his hands, his hands squeezing it tight in frustration at his reluctance to accept another Horseman killing tool. Ash placed it on his back without a fight; he knew there was no way to avoid it now.
The Legacy list grayed out; Ash could not select it again till the system deemed him ready for the next one.
{Does User wish to continue? User has 81 skulls in waiting and one soul.}
Ash didn't answer; he was already going through the list. For now, he was on autopilot, just going through the motions to avoid his emotions flowing out again.
Ash saw some weapons and attachments. He didn't need attachments for the moment, but he used thirty of the skulls to buy two revolvers. He figured he would stay in the era close to the Revolutionary War, picking up guns from the Civil War. He figured staying closer to the classics from those two events would not only stay in character but throw off the higher-ups of the Revhounds and HVA from suspecting weapons and gear in the modern era.
Ash picked Colt 1861 Navy revolvers, only spending one more skull to darken the blue steel of the guns with engravings, a swing-out cylinder for the cartridges, and darkened lacquered wood, staying with the dark color theme. The guns manifested on Ash's hips, signifying the gun belt he bought for ten stamina points.
Fifty skulls left, he bought a linguistics skill book with fifteen skulls so he could understand every language, including animal languages and dead languages as a bonus.
With the remaining skulls, he left them alone for now. He didn't need to buy anything anymore for the moment.
Ash then grabbed his head, yanking it off, transforming into its pumpkin form. He looked at himself in the mirror for the first time as the Headless Horseman.
The outfit, weapons, and the black smoke with glowing eyes for his face. Reality had, in the best words bitch slapped him to realize who he was now.
The Headless Horseman of his time.
*****
Lita was at her house, packing a suitcase with clothes for a week and essentials. Packing her small kit with a beginner's tattoo gun set as well. She was going to stay with Ash for the meantime, till things cooled down, more for Ash's sake, so that he wouldn't worry as much about her. Lita looked around her room, clean, almost barely touched since she worked so much. The only thing she grabbed was the photo frame of her and Ash as kids, Isaac pretending to squeeze Ash with a bear hug, and Amelia hugging Lita affectionately, something she missed with her mom since she left.
Just like for Ash, they were surrogate parents to her growing up, even though her dad was still her dad. She hated the person he was now, but still didn't give up on him. She always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, even if others lost hope.
Lita went for the door to leave, trying to avoid seeing her dad. It was poor wishing on her part; he walked into the room in his haggard slacks, a dirty white shirt, and no socks—just a bottle of Tennessee Whiskey in hand.
"Where are you going now?"
Lita didn't say; she just wanted to leave without drama.
"I asked you just where you're going, you're supposed to be at work. So were you going?"
Lita trembled to touch the doorknob; her fingers barely touched the knob before the bottle smashed next to her.
Her dad grabbed her wrist, his bloodshot eyes with the strong smell of alcohol on his breath, close to her face.
"You think you're old enough not to tell me where you're heading off to now? What, are you going to stay with that orphan boy again? No matter what you do, he ain't getting in your pants cause he cares for you, ya know."
Lita furled her lips, her free hand smacking across his face in a loud pop. Her dad, furious, grabbed her shoulders and shoved her to the ground, her head barely hitting the table to scrape her skin.
She tried to stay conscious from that; her head throbbed in pain, and the sight of blood on her hand from checking her injury in front of her panicked her slightly.
"What, not so brave now. Go on, hit me again, c'mon, here, take a shot." He mockingly gestured, tapping his red cheek. Lita wouldn't do it; despite what he became, it was still her father in front of her. Even before the booze and downfall, he was a jackass, but he did care for her and her mom. She didn't forget that.
She shook her head, not wanting to hit back. This only aggravated him more. Now, he was kicking her with his bare feet, not caring if his toes broke or her body was in pain; he just wanted to kick her.
He continued, then stopped, hearing a loud noise outside his house, only upsetting him more.
"Now what?" He yelled.
The door to the house exploded, and he fell to the ground, his face being hit with the pieces of scrap from the door and glass from the windows.
"What the hell? Who are you?" He asked in an exasperated tone.
Lita had passed out from the beating, so she didn't see who it was.
Standing at the door with the smoke dissipating to reveal the intruder with an intense, murderous aura, Ash was there, his glowing eyes from his smoke-formed head staring down at Lita's father.
"Hey now, what do you want? Are you a monster or something? What you want."
Ash continued gazing at him; he had no intention of letting this go anymore. If he was going to be the Horseman, then this was the one time he was willingly going to embrace it, for Lita's sake.
"I'm gonna tear your FUCKING SOUL APART!!!"