In the dim, bluish hours before dawn, a Sancta convoy piled along a jagged mountain road with armored transports rumbling through in a single line. The Ionis 9 "D" insignia was recognizable from Qliphos from both flanks of each vehicle.
Escorting the convoy were the mech droids of Qliphos. Once decayed and rotten, the rebuilt machines were now supercharged with aether and dark matter. Their redesigned frames pulsed with a sickly glow, which was the same corrupted energy that fed the Rot and brought them to a horrendous life. Each droid was now supported with dense plating and a tinted visor sealed each pilot inside, turning them into faceless predators that oversaw the most dangerous skirmishes with their supercharged laser rifles.
Inside the vehicles, captured refugees and prisoners sat in silence, unaware of their inevitable salvation from the Savior of Curse.
Rumors spread like wildfire on the existence and validity of the Savior's identity and purpose. Some say that her wisdom touches the heart, granting guidance and cleansing those afflicted with sin to purge their future evil desires. However, it was also rumored that those spurned from her majestic grace was only met with an untimely death, for their touch could deliver a death so immediate that the memories of those touched vanished along with their lives. Such rumors were so mismanaged and tainted that by the time the Huntress's death came through, the Savior of Curse was considered the biggest mystery of them all.
Above the prisoners would be more Curse personnel riding atop the vehicles, with even some riding the mech droids' shoulders like carrion birds. Some crouched low with rifles slung lazily across their knees with their armor stitched together from scavenged plates and Rot bones and corpses. Others stood tall and unbothered, loyal and dedicated to the name and reputation of Curse where survival meant knowing your enemy, and seeking to weaponize the already dangerous.
Their eyes gleamed with a feral amusement, anticipating something going wrong during the exchange of prisoners. Despite their secret alliance, nothing could stop them from turning against each other from how much they despised one another.
The convoy made its way up cascades of rocky terrain swarmed by roaming mottled Rot parasites scavenging the dirt for food. Curse handlers, specialized warriors trained with controlling and taming Rot skirmishes with food and bait, established iron fences dedicated to protecting themselves from chaining and capturing the Rot for military purposes. Safety protocols were met. On stand by, an armed mech droid could annihilate a single one of them by crushing it beneath its heel.
Joined as one, the Curse were poised to dominate, and their loyalists despised the idea of Sancta joining in the powerhouse without much cause.
Once the convoy finally halted, the groan of metal doors swinging open jolted several prisoners awake. Bound so tightly they could barely breathe, they squinted as the first red light of dawn stabbed into their eyes after hours trapped in never-ending darkness.
"We're going to be saved, Sere," An old woman within whispered to her granddaughter, with both of them bound so tightly they could barely move. As Sancta's armored guards approached the convoy and began dragging prisoners out, the woman never once looked away from her granddaughter. "The Savior of Curse has come for us. I can feel it." She said.
Sere knew her grandmother had long since slipped into madness.
The eight prisoners were lined up and marched onward with Sancta's guards toward a small encampment where others were being held. At its center of the encampment was an odd sight; their eyes trailed toward a large wooden stage dominating the space. There was no furniture on it, and no figures waiting. Not even the tools needed to carry out a timely execution.
As Sancta's guards arranged the prisoners in a horizontal line, they ordered each one to kneel. Once the captives obeyed, the guards stepped back, spreading out along the sides of the stage to wait for whatever came next. Outside the encampment, Curse mercenaries and personnel gathered in silence. Even the wind had stopped.
Sere lifted her eyes to the sky and silently mouthed a prayer.
An iron studded door groaned open in the distance, causing the prisoners to turn their heads toward it. A Sancta commander stepped toward the stage, distinguished by the engraved steel of their armor and the regal helmet masking their features. From its crest hung a lone white feather, drifting with each step. The prisoners recognized the symbol at once, though they kept their reactions hidden. But they knew what was to come.
"Tonight, the Savior of Curse will decide whether any of you are worthy for ascension to the motherland," The commander declared, their voice hollow behind the helmet. "But before that, the useless must be carved away. Those spurned from the grace of our Savior shall all meet an untimely death. There is no purpose here besides survival of the fittest. Only one truth governs the alliance between Sancta and Curse."
Several Curse soldiers, dressed in light armored clothing, chuckled in secrecy as they approached the sides of the stage. Many of them carried nourishment in preparation for the event to be held. Others stood by idle, impatiently waiting.
"We select. We hold. And we fight. That is the true nature of who we are. And you all shall do the same to prove your worth." The commander finished, stepping away.
Two Curse soldiers advanced and wrenched the men from both ends of the line, dragging them forward without prior warning. Sere stared at the sand beneath her. Her breath was thin and hollow. Her heart shook at the inevitability of it all. Her grandmother's gaze stayed locked on Sere, unaware of the ritual ascension.
"Let go! Get off me!" One of the men cried with desperation shredding through his voice. "Get the fuck off me!"
Sere trembled as the soldiers deposited the men at the edges of the stage, forcing them down on their knees once more. The commander approached the center and dropped a steel short sword at his feet, the sound echoing like a verdict. The men met each other's eyes, tension coiling through their bodies with nowhere to go.
"Prove your worth."
Sere gasped and snapped her gaze back to the sand, joining the others who dared not look. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to shut out the sounds. But they forced their way in regardless. She heard nothing but the clash of limbs along with their strained grunts fighting for the dominance over their frantic struggle. Their bodies slammed against the wooden stage, each impact rattling through the prisoners' bones. The brutal cries only voiced dire regret.
Then came the sudden stillness that Sere anticipated, broken only by the unmistakable sound of a blade plunging through a body, followed by the fading breath of an innocent man. The prisoners behind Sere sobbed quietly, knowing that their inevitable participation and responsibility would come in mere minutes. Their cries were drowned out by the cheering of the Curse savages, celebrating the entertainment with food and drink in hand.
The surviving man, streaked in blood, let the short sword fall from his hand. It clattered across the stage as the commander stepped forward to claim him.
"Pass." The commander said with a flat voice. He was untouched by the death that had just occurred.
Without warning, the next prisoner next for the ritual ascendant broke free out of her restraints, stumbling backward before sprinting toward the encampment's exit. She barely made it a few steps before a patrolling mech droid fired a searing blast that cut her down mid‑stride. Sere's eyes flew wide as her breath fractured into panicked gasps. Not only did the brutality stun the line into silence; with one more life erased, it meant that the ritual would only move faster, stealing what little time any of them had left.
"Damn it all to hell," A Curse guard reprimanded, moving forward to lightly shove the mech. "Are you fucking daft or something? The prisoners are goes to the Savior and Ramsey!"
"Deserters do not deserve to meddle in their presence," The filtered voice through the mech droid retaliated. "She was a heretic. I've done my part."
"No, what you've done is rob us," The Curse guard continued to pressure him. "We paid top coin to smuggle these people into the city, and you've done and killed one of them without our permission. Ramsey will have your head by the time we return!"
Several Sancta guards began to surround the lone Curse, armed with their blades stowed within their sheaths. "You step out of line, and you won't be able to return," One of them threatened. "The primearch holds more power than your precious Ramsey. The ritual must continue."
Drowning out the shouting between the guards and the mech, Sere heard the Sancta soldiers returning to the ends of the line. Their boots stopped beside her, then moved past. Hands seized another prisoner. Little did she know it was her grandmother next, staring at her as she was lifted away. Sere gasped and collapsed to the sand, attempting to reach out with her bound hands. She saw her opponent for the ritual; a taller and more fit man who would no doubt snap her grandmother's neck in a second when he would have the chance.
"Please! N-No! Take me instead," She begged with a cracking voice. "Not her! Please, I'll go. I'll go! I'll do anything!"
But the guards didn't even look at her. The other prisoners continued to sob as their numbers began to dwindle.
"Nana..." Sere moaned as her dry lips touched the sand, salivating uncontrollably as she spit out in defiance and denial for what was to come. She inadvertently witnessed her grandmother being lined up on the edge, but it was all just a blur to her. "Please..."
"You want to fuck with us now?" The angered Curse guard snarled, stepping forward and shoving the mech after the prisoner's death. At once, several of the Curse spectators surged in behind him, dropping their nourishment to the ground and crowding together as they forced the mech backward until its footing slipped. "How's it feel to stand without a leg to hold you up, you metal junk rat?"
"Back off!" Sancta soldiers shouted at once, blades drawn as the mech droids beside them powered up their weapons.
"You gonna shoot me?"
"I said, back off!"
"My leg..." The Sancta soldier inside the mech droid cried in agony. "You broke my fucking leg..."
"Fuck your leg. You should have followed orders, like Ramsey told us to."
"Back the fuck up!" A Sancta soldier threatened, jabbing their sword toward the angered Curse guard.
The commander returned to the stage and let another short sword fall to the center. Sere's grandmother closed her eyes, accepting what was coming, while Sere's scream tore out of her spine.
"Prove your-"
The commander's voice cut off as a strange oddity stopped him. Near the encampment entrance, the skirmish between Sancta and Curse forces raged on with none of them noticing a lone mech droid staggering in from the rocks. Its body frame tilted unnaturally as it walked like a zombie on the verge of collapse.
When it finally entered the encampment, no one had time to react to what was to come next. The mech droid detonated an explosion of raw gasoline and flame that erupted outward, swallowing both factions in a single violent bloom. All of the surrounding mech droids were hurled backward and powered down where they landed, while the infantry soldiers screamed as the flames overtook them, their cries swallowed by the roar of the flame.
As the blast began to fade, Nocten rushed in through the smoke with keys pocketed from the fallen soldiers. He unlocked the bindings of the prisoners, who sprinted across the burning entrance to escape. Sere ran for her grandmother only to be yanked down by a Sancta guard who had survived the blast. He seized her leg and dragged her toward the sand.
Sere fought wildly by kicking him. He had a dagger clenched in his hand, ready to kill in a matter of vengeance. Before he could strike, a sharp impact cracked against the guard's skull, sending him falling back. A spray of blood splattered across Sere's face and she froze, stunned by the sudden rescue. A shadow stepped over her, offering a hand.
"Don't worry about this," Scarlet's voice came through, with her rifle slung over her shoulder as more Sancta and Curse soldiers swarmed the ruins of the encampment. She smirked at them as she primed her weapon. "Grab your granny and get to the convoy truck outside. It's got the one with the red mark. Can't miss it!"
"Thank you…" Sere breathed as Nocten freed her binds.
"She's not going anywhere," The commander snarled from behind them, gripping Sere's grandmother by the throat with a dagger's tip drawing a thin line of blood trickling down her neck. "Well, well, what do we have here? I'd recognize that face anywhere. You were supposed to report back to the primearch days ago, and now you've betrayed us."
"You betrayed us first!" Nocten cried, using his hatred for Freyd to fuel his rage. "You were about to sell us out, just like you were about to for these prisoners."
"We do not recognize it as an act of betrayal. It's liberation. Our Savior shall guide us to the motherland-"
"Yap central, just shut up already!" Scarlet shouted, firing a clean shot that struck the commander square in the helmet. His body toppled off the stage, disappearing into the smoke and debris below.
The moment he fell was the signal for all Sancta and Curse's opposing forces to spring toward their ambush. As Sere rushed for her grandmother, Scarlet blasted two opposing Curse soldiers in the head, flipping toward the stage to defend her from ongoing attacks.
Nocten dodged an overhead swing from a Sancta soldier rampaging toward him. He tackled the Sancta soldier backward, letting the man's own armor drag him down. Claiming his own blade, Nocten struck the exposed gap at the soldier's neck, only to be interrupted by another soldier lunging in. A quick, instinctive block sent the attacker stumbling back.
They circled around each other until the Sancta soldier rushed Nocten again with his sword raised for another crushing blow. Nocten weightlessly slipped past it and swept his blade toward the man's throat. The soldier barely managed to wrench his weapon back in time to catch the strike. A swing from the soldier's fist nearly struck Nocten until a quick timed dodge sent them circling around once more.
From the corner of his eye, Nocten caught the flicker of a mech droid emerging from the flaming entrance with its rifle charging. He darted behind the Sancta soldier he was fighting and dropped low just as the mech fired. The blast struck the soldier instead, punching a smoking hole straight through his armor and dropping him instantly.
Before the mech droid could recharge its rifle once more, Vayne leaped from a heap of smoke and latched onto the frame of its visor, striking its rear with his palm. An electrical current surged throughout the droid's frame before the soldier within was sliced to pieces. Nocten watched as blood clouded through the glass visor, still piqued about the mystery of Vayne's abilities.
"Keep running, you fuckers!" Scarlet shouted maniacally as she unloaded her rifle at the Curse mercenaries perched along the high walls of the encampment. Her barrage sent them scrambling for cover, with a few dropping where they stood as the rest fled in panic.
As soon as the dust settled, Vayne reunited with both Nocten and Scarlet, watching as Sere and her grandmother descending the stage. He pulled his leather gloves back and swiped dirt off of the creases of his chest before heading toward Nocten's flank.
"Turns out you really can hold you own," Vayne's deep voice complimented, smacking Nocten's shoulder with the back of his hand in a playful manner. "You trained well in Sancta, especially for a man whose sucked up to the primearch for God knows how long. I wonder... was it all just a front?"
Nocten dropped to one knee beside the fallen soldier, quickly checking the body before stripping both swords from their harness. "You think I'm lying." He commented.
"I've always been quite skeptical, lad. You're not easy to read, that's for sure. 'And so did the conflict between Envie and Desir transpire into a chaotic mess, filled with deception and regret.'"
"From the manuscript?" Nocten asked.
"Aye. Suits you perfectly, doesn't it? Thanks to Lucy's efforts, I've managed to decipher most of that incomplete manuscript, and I've noticed one thing. Some of the characteristics within those pages align with some of the people I know. Hard to tell if it's a coincidence or not, but you're on the forefront."
"I still can't believe any of this," Scarlet denied, turning her back against the two of them. "But, you've never been wrong before..."
Vayne stepped up beside Nocten and set a steady hand on his shoulder. "You keep this up, and we'll have our answers soon enough," He said, eyes lifting toward the stairway leading up the encampment's tower. "For now, stay sharp. There's still one more head to deal with."
Above them, the Sancta commander responsible for the ritual was already fleeing, his armored boots clattering up the steps. Lucy appeared and braced Sere and her grandmother on both sides, helping them down from the stage as she hurried them toward safety.
"Thank you... thank you so much for saving us," Sere said directly to Scarlet. "We were so scared..."
"You were more scared than me, girlie." Sere's grandmother jested.
"Do you have a place to stay?" Lucy asked.
"No. The alliance burned down our homes. We lost everything."
Scarlet stepped forward and placed her hand on Sere's grandmother's shoulder. "I got this," She said. "Already did my part in tracking the convoy. Now's a matter of getting these two to safety. We've got a slick hideout and some warm beds ready for the both of you."
"Take my grandmother," Sere insisted. "I'm staying with all of you."
"It's not safe," Nocten said. "It would be better if-"
"No," Sere interrupted, looking atop the tower. "I want to see that man burn for what he did."
Vayne shrugged, gesturing toward Scarlet to take the next step. "Looks like her mind is all made up," He said. "Onward, then. We've got a stray to catch. Hold down the fort, Scarlet. We'll be back in no time."
As Scarlet escorted Sere's grandmother to the convoy vehicle, Lucy approached Vayne and gave him a grimace, a tense hint that bled a responsibility that needed to be done. Unknown to Vayne, they wasted no time ascending the encampment, giving chase to the commander.
Once the others had reached the top, they trapped the commander with only the ledge behind him offering an escape - an escape to death had it ever gone south. Yet it was four against one, implying that the latter would have been the best option for him.
"End of the line," Vayne said as he closed in with a casual tone. The others followed suit after, ready for combat. "Spare us the theatrics. Tell us who and where the Savior of Curse is and why they matter."
"Well, I'll be damned," The Sancta commander chuckled, whimsical even with his back to the edge at the top. "If it isn't, Lord Vayne, protector of the vale. In the flesh, hmm? You're a long way from home."
Lucy and Nocten traded bewildered looks, blindsided by the title and the weight behind it.
"Oh, yeah?" Vayne shot back. "Since you already know my name, then you know talking is your only good option. You understand exactly what I'm capable of."
"I've heard the stories," The commander said. "Lord Vayne, the esteemed bodyguard to our most exalted lord of Curse… Balen Ramsey."
"What…?" Lucy breathed. Nocten stiffened beside her. The name drop alone rattled them, and the idea that Vayne was tied to it made their trust in him feel dangerously thin.
Vayne chuckled in response to the name. "Word travels fast, then," He said. "I didn't expect Sancta to have such high intel. Trust me, I've given the lord plenty of chances to redeem himself. But it seems like whenever I do, fate seems to thrust me in a different direction."
"Who is he?" Lucy demanded, planting herself in front of Vayne as she spoke to the commander. Nocten noticed Vayne make no move to intervene. A hint of amusement tugged at his expression instead.
"And to make yourself well known as well, traitor," The commander insulted. "You're also a long way from home, soldier. We've got an entire band of traitors in league with each other!"
"Answer my question," Lucy forced, drawing her dagger and holding it securely by her side. "Right now, I don't know who to believe."
"Hey. Take it easy." Nocten warned.
Lucy shrugged off his warning comment, flipping the dagger into her offhand. "Tell me!" She shouted.
The commander cast his blades aside, making the sound of steel clattering across the ground. He took several steps forward. Lucy held her position while Nocten joined her, bracing for any trick. Although the discarded weapons suggested nothing would come.
"Very well," The commander began. "Allow me to tell you in my own way, using the power of our SAVIOR!"
Before Lucy or Nocten could react, the commander's left hand flared with a radiant gold light, emitting fractured energies crackling off his armored glove. He leaned forward and launched himself in an impossibly far leap with his palms outstretched toward them. Vayne swung to intercept the attack, but the three of them vanished in violent clap of lightning, hurling toward a distant mountaintop in the blink of an eye. Residual energies fell from the sky from their previous position, trickling onto Vayne's forehead as they floated beside him.
"Where did they go!?" Sere shouted from behind him.
"Interesting," Vayne commented, eyeing the distant mountaintop. It crashed with unbelievable force, sending a thunderous quake throughout the rocky-brimmed valley. He swept off the residual energy and glanced at it further. An epiphany struck him, widening his resolve. "There's our clue."
"Clue?"
"Come on, then. Best before they take off again." Vayne said, already sprinting down the encampment stairs with Sere behind. As he ran, a flicker of frustration crossed his face, and he muttered something under his breath to verbalize his misfortune.
"Oh, brother... what have you meddled yourself into now?"