If you've ever sought one of these Objects, I'm sure you've heard of Jack Empty. You know Jack, the guy who is kept alive by deals too profane to put into words? Smiles a bit too wide? Every movement he makes is a fucking red flag that tells you to get the hell out of dodge. Well, Seeker, let me tell you about a man you know nothing about, hell, I don't know much about him, other than he saved my life just by looking at me. I'll tell you about him, the man who seeks but is not a Seeker, he holds but is not a Holder, he is more full than you or I could ever hope to be, his smile is perfect and holds all of the good in this world, he is the one who weeps when a Seeker dies or a new Holder is born. He calls himself the Hunter.

If you've met Jack and survived, he might have told you about a man named Slayer. This is that man, this is the one who is called killer of Holders. I guess I'm not making much sense right now. I'll start from the beginning.

It was a long time ago, in a place that I can no longer recall the name of. I was seeking an Object that I won't expand upon for fear that you may seek it and undo his work. I requested to see the Holder but was simply told this: "It's useless, so useless, he's already been here." Confused, I insisted upon seeing the Holder, but the attendant refused to lead me, they instead gave me a bloodstained key and found that it fit into an equally bloodstained door which seemed to have been beaten on from the other side, as if something were trying to escape in the throes of death. With some hesitation I finally willed myself to open the door and entered.

You've sought these things before, you know the trials, you know the horrors. Imagine my surprise as I saw blood-covered wall littered, not with humans, but the horrors I dare not describe to you. As I walked down the path I found myself on, I felt a strange calmness, as if gratitude emanated from every corner. I walked further, wary, listening for a sound that would mark my demise, waiting for the light to dim to nothingness, but it never happened. I reached the end of the tunnel without being disturbed, in fact... I felt... calm.

At the end of the hall... no, I should say at the end of what had BECOME a hall, for the intervening walls and rooms had been decimated by a force I dare not comprehend, I saw him. Sitting atop a pile of inhuman bones, his gray eyes hidden behind orange-tinted glasses, reading an ancient volume tiled in a language I couldn't read, I saw him... and he saw me. The Hunter looked up from his book, his glasses slipped down his nose to reveal the most peaceful eyes I had ever beheld, and he smiled at me. "Congratulations, Seeker, you've witnessed what could be." Naturally, I was hesitant to say anything to him at the time, fearing him to be the Holder. This was before I noticed the being shackled at his feet, its skin ripped off and eyes torn out. He saw me looking at the creature, yet he still smiled. "Does it disturb you? To see a Holder subjugated by a human, that is?" he asked me in the most serene voice I'd ever heard.

I spoke with him for what seemed like hours, maybe even days, about any little thing that came to mind, all while being completely at ease. He told me that he had effectively killed the Holder I'd sought, as he had several others before discovering how easily they could be replaced. He hadn't meant to kill this one though, so he waited on that pile of bones, having taken its place but still able to move freely. He told me that the Object it once guarded had been taken long before I arrived, by a man who many have come to call Legion, however that item was lost and the Holder remained. He smiled at the end of my questions and stood, offered me his hand, and spoke one last time. "My name is Slayer, The Hunter. I am one who seeks but is not a Seeker, I am one who holds but is not a Holder. Will you now take my place?"

I still remember him clearly, no matter how many eons have passed between then and now. I tell every Seeker that comes down this hall, I always tell them that the Hunter was here and loved them, even though he never met them. They tell me stories of the outside world, they tell me of a man with orange sunglasses who is always reading a book written in a language no one can read, who is kept alive by deals made out of love for the human race. He seeks but is not a Seeker, he holds but is not a Holder, he chose but is not the Chosen.

Tell me, Seeker, have you met the man with orange glasses?