Cainan dove into the fray beside her, he drove the sword through torsos and necks, dragging it through bone until sparks leapt from stone. He was fighting in a wild style, dropping low on all fours, his weapon dragging furrows in the ground as he surged forward and ripped through legs, then leapt, heel striking a creature's temple so hard its skull exploded in a mist of blood.
He pivoted under a claw swipe, gripped another creature by the jaw, and crushed it against his knee. Every muscle moved with violence barely contained, a beast dressed in human shape. But they came in waves. One of the warped leapt and raked his chest, another slammed its body into his shoulder as he tore them apart, yet his own blood marked the dirt. He said nothing, thought nothing at all, all he knew is that he needed to win.
He moved quick-like, his feet shuffling to keep balance as the horde came, parrying with the blade's spine, driving his elbow through skulls, ripping claws free from his arm just to jam them into another enemy's throat.
Park stood a few paces back, hands raised, his voice a whisper of prayer drowned in chaos.
"Devour thy enemies, stars. Let your constellations lead us to victory."
Between his palms, a trembling orb of darkness was born, a swirling black and deep violet light bending the world inward. It pulled the warped humans by their limbs, dragging them screaming into its center.
The moment they reached it, the air itself rippled and convulsed, and an abyssal wave shredded them from within, flinging blood and broken limbs across the ruins. Park's armor shone under that dim energy, each motion deliberate, sacred. Another sphere appeared, smaller, denser; he hurled it forward with calm precision, pulling another dozen of the abominations into nothingness.
Above, Yübeel's scythe traced lightless crescents through the air as she danced between the monsters. Every swing carved through flesh and left behind a faint mark of cursed magic, and from those marks, she would vanish—only to erupt out of a wound she had inflicted moments before, driving the blade into new prey. Her wings cut through wind and blood alike; she was a ghost of motion, an executioner of impossible rhythm. When she buried the scythe's end into a creature's spine, the body convulsed, twisted, and rose again—a warped mockery of itself now armed with a mirrored scythe, fighting its own kind in obedience to her will. Those summoned doubles tore through the horde, a legion of death conjured from the fallen.
The griffon fought like a demon of three minds, its talons wreathed in black energy as it swept entire groups of warped humans aside. One head caught a body between its beak and ripped it in half; another head clamped down on a torso and threw it into the distance, while the third spat dark fire over the field. The creature's wings shattered pillars, its talons raked trenches through the stone, every beat of its wings turning the battlefield into a storm of ash and gore.
Cainan was drenched in blood and dust. He tore the blade through another foe's ribcage, pivoted on his heel, and backhanded a skull into fragments. One warped human leapt behind him—he ducked, slammed his elbow into its abdomen, seized its leg mid-air, and crushed it against the ground hard enough to split its spine. Two more lunged; he kicked one's knee backward, used its body as leverage to vault and drive his sword downward into the other's chest.
The creatures merged in front of him, twisting together into a towering mass of sinew and brain-matter that roared like a choir of corpses. He didn't flinch. He ran straight into its reach, shoulder-checking it off balance, then tore his blade upward, splitting it from abdomen to jaw. The wound detonated in a rush of gas; he rolled aside, coughing, vision stinging, but still fighting.
Vert's shotgun flared beside him again—two booming blasts tore a path open, the thunder of her weapon echoing through the ruins. She tossed it into her left hand mid-motion, it reformed into the hammer, and she drove it into a creature's skull so hard that bone cracked under her boots. She swung it up again, connecting with another body's jaw, electricity arcing from corpse to corpse. "Stay down!" she roared, grief hidden behind grit. Her eyes darted through the sea of warped faces—none were him. Relief hurt worse than fear.
Cainan staggered forward, chest heaving. Fifty corpses lay shattered in his wake, some still twitching, others melting into the earth. He had never fought things like these; every motion was instinct, every breath survival. Blood streaked down his arm, his ribs throbbed, but he still smirked through the pain.
His blade was heavy and uncooperative, yet alive in his grip, and though it refused to show its true strength, his will made it lethal.
'Kill…'
Around him, Park's dark orbs consumed, Yübeel's scythe danced, Vert's gun and hammer burned, Noov tore at throats with claws, and Chess, trembling, stood with the sword gripped tight, unable to move.
'I'm scared. Really fucking scared. Cainan was right, wasn't he?'
His eyes widened as he saw something rush behind him, a warped human with teeth like broken glass lunging to tear his neck open. He turned, heart hammering—
The black hole ignited with a deep, thunderous hum, sucking the warped human clean off its feet before it could cleave Chess's spine. The creature stretched grotesquely, limbs snapping mid-pull, its body warping like taffy before it burst into a red storm with chunks and blood spattering violently across Chess's chest and face.
The shock froze him; he collapsed to his knees, the golden-white sword clattering beside him, his breath rasping short and wild.
'Cainan was right…'
Warm blood rolled down his cheek. His vision shook from memory a small boy crouched in the dirt, that same posture, trembling in front of men who laughed as they beat him senseless. Always saved and never saving. The thought roared inside him like a lion.
A sharp crack broke the silence. Noov stepped into the chaos, blnes jutting from his shoulders, ribs, elbows, and thighs, each one razor-edged, slick with his own blood.
He tore one from his forearm and hurled it into the swarm, impaling two warped humans through the chest before slamming his foot into the ground, releasing a shock of bone shards that skewered those behind. "Evil!" he bellowed, his voice guttural, almost gleeful, as new bone spikes erupted along his arms.
He ripped one out and swung it like a club, shattering skulls, then spun low, dragging another spike across the knees of a charging warped brute before impaling its throat with a jagged rib he'd just torn free. The air around him vibrated with the intensity of it, bone cracking, blood spraying, his own flesh ripping as fast as it healed.
"Monster!" he roared again, slamming both hands to his sides as thick bone blades sprouted from his wrists, punching through the next creature's torso in a single thrust. He used the corpse as a shield, then flung it into a crowd, bones extending from the dead body mid-flight, shredding others on impact.
Noov dashed forward, his body a living weapon, jabbing and skewering with frenzied precision, spines, ribs, even finger bones becoming projectiles. Every motion screamed pain and purpose. Then he clasped his hands together, and the bones along his back lengthened into a fan of jagged spears. He jumped, twisted once, and unleashed them all outward, tearing through a dozen warped humans at once as he shouted, "Kill!"
But the battlefield began to shift, getting everyone's attention besides Cainan's.
The warped humans began fusing skin liquefying, bones grinding together, brain matter swelling into grotesque veins that wrapped around other corpses. A single arm split into four, a spine doubled, mouths merged into new ones that screamed in eerie unison.
They weren't mindless though, but seemingly calculating. Some circled wide, others used fallen bodies to form barricades, their eyes flicking to the strongest fighters.
Park's empty voice grew uneven inside his cracked helmet as he saw the giants forming. He summoned a black orb, dark energy swirling violently within. "By the stars…forgive me," he murmured. "I have forgotten how ruthless the fiends are."
He pressed his gloved palms together, and four more black holes tore open above him, their pull howling as they dragged warped humans skyward. Bodies twisted and burst mid-air, raining blood and gray matter, but the larger fusions resisted, straining, their skin tearing but holding.
Park dropped to one knee, his empty voice shaking through the static of his comms, "Forgive me, for I must smite them still."
The orbs brightened, drawing hundreds more into their gravity wells before detonating outward in abyssal blasts, obliterating lesser warped humans instantly. Yet when the smoke cleared, the titans still stood, gashes across their chests hissing with toxic gas. The air turned heavy and lethal. Yübeel's voice cut through the chaos: "Hold your breath!"
Cainan and Vert dove through the haze, flanking two massive warped abominations. They fought in the ruins before the temple gates, each swing tearing through the stone ground. Vert switched fluidly between her red-electrified shotgun and hammer, praying under her breath between reloads.
'Don't see him here…don't let him be one of them. Please my husband, don't be in here.'
She fired point-blank, then spun the weapon into hammer form, smashing through skulls in rhythmic fury, lightning sparking through wet brain tissue. Her lungs burned from holding in the gas, but she kept fighting, eyes locked on Cainan.
He was swinging his barbed greatsword with primal violence, cutting, punching, even biting once when his grip slipped.
'His mind is completely blanked out. What's up with him?' Vert thought.
Vert's mind raced more; Warped humans only swing, leap, and gas when wounded. Dumb giants. She wanted to coordinate, to merge her pattern with Cainan's, and shouted, "Cainan! We—!"
But he didn't hear. He broke into another chaotic sprint, ducking under the giant's claw, ramming his blade into the creature's side, twisting his body in impossible angles as he fought on all fours.
Every strike carved a trench of gore, his muscles tens; He took a direct hit that flung him back, but he rolled, sprang up, and attacked again. Vert watched him, her hammer crackling.
'He's just like him… reckless, fearless, and fucking doomed. He won't last long.'
Park's black holes flickered as smaller warped humans tried to swarm him. They erupted from the earth beneath him, screeching. But before they could touch him, Yübeel streaked through like a comet, her white scythe glowing with cursed energy.
She carved through them, and from every corpse she felled, a new scythe-like phantom burst forth, slicing beside her as she danced. Her wings carried her in a deadly rhythm: one cut, vanish, reappear behind another, the battlefield becoming her ring of death. The air filled with her chant, each verse spawning more spectral blades that tore through the horde like a massacre in motion.
"Keep slaughtering. They are almost gone."
Chess still knelt in the mud, trembling. Blood matted his hair, and his thoughts spiraled into despair. A fraud for not picking it up. A fraud for dropping it.
'Is that all I am?'
He looked around at the group, seeing their fury and felt smaller than ever.
'What can I even do? I'm not a fighter. I hate that I'm not. Fucking helpless. A damsel, really. Courage would be heresy in my own thoughts.'
Cainan roared as the massive warped human pounced towards him again. It rolled its body violently, blades of bone and twisted flesh grinding the ground apart. He dodged, jumped, and rammed his sword deep into its chest then forced himself inside.
Vert screamed his name as the monster convulsed, its insides tearing open. "Cainan! You fool!"
The creature shrieked, its limbs flailing, before its entire torso burst open in a rain of gore.
Cainan stood in the center of the carnage, drenched, steam rising off him. His chest heaved once. Silence fell over the ruins. The temple loomed behind him, massive and sealed. He exhaled, lifted his sword, and muttered with a crooked grin, "Too fucking easy… let's go."
Park stared, saying, "It's like an on/off switch. His style."
Vert replied, "He can fight, yeah. But we gotta be careful around him."
The rain had not come, but it felt like it had.
Blood painted the stones like old murals, thick, warm, and blackening fast under the cold grey sky. The air reeked of burnt marrow and iron.
Cainan stood among the carcasses, one boot pressed into a severed torso, breathing hard, his shoulders rising and falling with a grin that looked carved on. Vert's hammer dripped. Noov crouched and gnawed idly at a warped skull, fascinated. Park wiped at his visor, a quiet silhouette in prayer.
Chess stood apart, cleaner than the rest, shaking, face pale as dust. He hadn't swung a weapon once. He had just stood there watching the others carve through the tide of warped humans like storm gods, while he shook so hard his teeth clattered.
Yübeel's wings folded as she stepped forward, her scythe tip resting lightly against the stones. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft, softer than anyone expected, almost tender. "You all… are formidable," she said. "Most people don't survive encounters with warped humans, especially not in these numbers. Even Stroheim's knights… struggle against them."
Her tone carried something human in it, a tiny fracture of awe or nostalgia, maybe both. It made Vert glance up, caught off guard. It made Cainan narrow his eyes in suspicion. Chess took another step away, head low, shoulders curling inward. He didn't feel like he deserved to be near them, not after watching and trembling while they did all the killing.
Cainan's voice snapped the stillness in half. "Yeah yeah but they still aren't a match against Primarchs, are they?" he said, flicking blood off his blade. "Cut the soft talk, devil. What are you trying to say? Aren't we here to kill a Witch Mother?"
Noov grunted, claws digging into a warped corpse. "Witch!" he barked, pulling at strands of brain matter as if trying to understand it.
Vert exhaled slowly. "What's going on?" she asked, though her words trembled. She tried to stand tall, but her hands shook faintly around her weapon. The sight of those warped humans had rattled her down to bone. All she could think, through the entire fight, was that she might see him, her husband's face, twisted, screaming, clawing at her. Every time she swung her hammer she prayed she wouldn't. She hadn't seen him…so thoughts of her husband being dead always crept, he did get brought to this world with hurt, but that didn't soothe her nerves. It only left her hollow.
Yübeel turned, the wind catching the edges of her wings. "My husband, Primarch Valor," she began quietly, "truly cares for our family, for me, and our son, Ares. The one we seek to save." Her voice thinned, softer still. "He has been cursed by the Witch Mother, a servant of the god of darkness. Valor wanted to prove himself to the king of Stroheim, that our family could ascend, gain power enough to gaze upon the Brain without perishing. Because with power like the Brain's, every race in this world knows the same truth: one day, we may all be destroyed. Or worse. The brain has a purpose, and we wish not to die with the rest. We are the only ones brave enough to stand on the brain's side, no matter the control it has over life and death right now."
Her fingers tightened around the scythe as her composure faltered. "Valor begged the king to save our son. But the king demanded loyalty to the Brain, not compassion. So he refused. And Valor…" She looked down. For the first time, her voice cracked. "He wept. I had never seen him do that. It really…it really broke me."
Even Cainan, impatient as he was, stayed silent.
Yübeel drew a long, heavy breath. "We were nobles once. From Yune—the kingdom where the rich live like gods. To be noble there was to hold power, influence. And to keep it, one had to ascend. We worshipped Balhali, goddess of wealth and currency. Her doctrine was simple: place money and power above all, even blood, even love, and she would bless you with luck beyond reason." Her lips trembled faintly. "We followed her doctrine for years. And with power, came enemies."
She paused. "They came at night. Filthy underclass thieves, rotten but skilled bandits who envied what we had. They broke into our estate, butchered our vagabonds, looted everything, and burned our home to ash. Most nobles aren't fighters. That's why we hire them. And so, we ran. Valor, myself, and our infant son Ares. We lost everything. Faith in Balhali, faith in power. Everything we worked for, gone."
Her eyes under her bangs, faintly glowing, flickered with something that looked like memory. "Valor hunted beasts for coin. Sold pelts. Begged at markets. People spat at him, they remembered his arrogance, his cruelty when he had riches. He changed. He had to. Then, one day, the King of Stroheim found us sleeping in an abandoned cart."
Cainan and the others stared, though only half-listening. He didn't care about the sentimental tone; he wanted the point, the purpose of this confession. Still, there was something raw about the way she spoke, it was no shitty grandeur, no holy rhetoric, just the story of someone who lost everything and learned how to kneel to the strong to make it again.
"When the king offered us power, we accepted without hesitation," Yübeel continued. "Cursed relics that fused with our flesh. We used them to track down the bandits who had ruined us. We killed them, slowly. It felt good. Too good. But at night… we began to hear screaming." She looked away. "Someone else's voice, trapped in our heads. Every night. We don't know whose. But we figure it's the god of darkness' voice, for we have his power without permission, by false decree and forbidden gains. It's only natural, and common sense it would be his voice."
The wind carried her words across the bloody field.
"Now that the gods have vanished since the Brain arrived, there are no more clerics, no more priests, and people are desperate. I do not regret what we did. I would still gaze upon the Brain if I could. I would follow the king into its power, ascend as the Seraphs did. But Ares…" Her voice broke then. "Our son… will not. He's been cursed too long. When his connection with the Witch Mother is finally severed, he will die. He has never taken power from the king, as those who he gives power must have done things worthy of it. Ares has not." Her words hung in the air like smoke. "And those who have taken dark magic can withstand certain amounts of it that try to oppose them."
Cainan stared at her, blood drying on his knuckles. "So that's what all this was leading to," he muttered.
But even as he said it, the weight of her words settled in the air, something tragic and twisted in its sincerity.
Cainan sat there, his eyes empty but burning. "That was a load of nothing. You think I care? How does this help me finish what we came here to do? You guys are my enemies, you want to feed me to the brain, you kill people for fun, trap them in fucking cages, making them fight for some power-hungry king; it makes me sick. And you and your husband, I don't pity you. Maybe you deserved what happened to you. You even said yourself that cursed magic, dark power felt good. You're sitting here staring into my eyes saying all of this like it's normal. I want to be king…I want all of what it has to offer me. And it pisses me off that I don't know if I'm dreaming or if this is really real. But I know it's real…but everything is so hard to get for me, why can't it be fucking easy?! Why can't I just walk into Kalhalla and sit on the throne?! Tell people to give me all of their coin, host banquets and shit all day, why?! Why are there always obstacles in my way? Why can't I be happy?"
Yübeel didn't respond, but her fingers coiled tighter around the scythe's black handle, veins pulsing faintly beneath her pale skin.
Cainan took a breath through his teeth, staring at her. "See how you don't care? That's what I feel like right now. Either fate or people always want to ruin me but hate that I keep going. Hell, I hate that I keep going. Why the hell can't I stop running? Nevermind, you wouldn't know. I just know, no one is helping me with my shit, so why should I help you? Why should I give you what you want?"
Chess's throat tightened, he could feel every word like it was thrown straight through him. Even Park looked up from his prayer stance, his usual composure faltering. Noov sniffed the air lightly, the stench of rage thick enough to taste. The silence weighed like iron around them.
Vert said, "Cainan…"
Yübeel finally spoke, voice soft but controlled. "I'm not asking for pity, the king has done that enough. That's why he gave us power and bonded us with it."
Vert narrowed her eyes. "So why…did you say all of that for?"
"I want you to kill me after this is over," Yübeel said quietly. The words were so calm that they chilled the blood. "I don't want to see Ares die. I can feel the death in him, the poison that seeps from his eyes when he looks at me. It never fades. His eyes cry ink, mine cry blood. I know he will not forgive us for what happened, for Valor sending him out to try and hunt that damned witch, nor should he forgive us for it. I know the brain will save us, it will bring us together again, but in this state, I don't want to see him dead, or a warped human. So, I ask for a swift death."
Cainan raised his greatsword, its barbed wire glinting red. Vert lifted her gun. Park pressed his palms together, whispering under his breath, and Noov's back began to split with sharp bones, his silhouette jagged and monstrous. Cainan's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Good fucking riddance, then."
Yübeel didn't flinch. "But, the severing comes first. I'm allowing you the opportunity to kill the Witch Mother first. You are only allowed to kill me when this is all over. Cainan, you may have taken down a Primarch before, but he was a newborn fresh from the prison, still frail. The one inside this temple, Primarch Aphollo, is stronger than even I am. So there's no doing anything to break our deal if he's around. And If I wanted to plunge my scythe into all of you and fill your minds with endless visions of your own deaths, I would've done it by now."
Cainan frowned, his tone quieter but no less venomous. "But why? Why let us save your messed up son and make him able to fully comprehend that you both ruined his life? Just for him to die? You killed him. And now you want to leave your husband to suffer and watch his son die. I don't care really, but you're even more shitty than he is."
"For all I did for the name of the brain," Yübeel said, her voice steady again, "I know I'll be accepted in death. The brain will acquire my soul and body, like the warped humans. When we die, our souls are sent somewhere beyond even its reach, yet the king says the brain notices those who die in its name. He told us dying for it shows complete loyalty, and it will reward us. We are the only ones willing to kill and die for it. To deliver the rune of death to its beauty. As for your question, when our son awakens, he will comprehend everything and die slowly after awakening. It won't take long, it won't be instant. I can't watch him suffer."
Cainan kept his blade up. "It doesn't make sense. You want to deliver me to the brain but allow me to kill you and run free. I should just end it here. I'm strong, ya know."
Yübeel looked at him, her eyes void of mercy. "You have no mastery of your rune, Cainan. And if you've been here and fought with it and still have not unlocked even a fragment of it's power, you are no threat, not even a threat for the future. Once you finish your mission, Aphollo will kill you after. And deliver your body to the glory of the brain!"
Before anyone could breathe, the air cracked. Yübeel slammed her scythe down, the sound splitting the air like thunder. A pulse of black energy blasted outward, smashing through their bodies, flinging them through the cracked temple doors. They hit the ground inside hard, coughing blood and dust.
Cainan groaned, forcing himself to sit up—just in time to see the temple entrance writhe shut under a mass of living bramble, sealing them in with a groaning sound like bones twisting.
…
The inside of the temple was serene, but eerily so. Gold-trimmed marble stretched across the floor like frozen sunlight, and tall white pillars vanished into the shadowed ceiling where broken chandeliers dangled by thin, cursed veins of bramble.
Gray dust glimmered faintly in the air, settling across bodies that once wore the robes of priests and clerics. Many of them were pinned to the walls by twisted weapons, some nailed upright through the heart or skull by cursed spears, others wrapped in coils of thorned bramble that pulsed faintly, feeding on what remained of their souls.
Their faces were frozen in prayer, lips cracked open as if still begging for light that would never return.
Noov growled low, a sound that barely resembled speech, while Park whispered, "Stars guide your faithful warriors…" His voice trembled in the stillness.
Chess swallowed hard, staring at the ruin, his voice breaking. "S-surely the stars will protect us, r-right?"
Park didn't look at him. "The stars have been silent to me ever since I was summoned. They do not hear me, yet I still share their power. I am in an endless pursuit of hope, but every day I lose more of it. Since I no longer hear them, no longer see them in my dreams. If I stop seeking, I'll fall into despair, and look pathetic beneath the clouds. But I keep hanging onto whatever hope I have left."
Cainan was already swinging his flaming greatsword at the bramble sealing the door shut, each strike echoing like thunder against metal bones. Every time he carved into it, the black vines simply regrew thicker, sealing tighter. Through one small gap, he caught a glimpse of Yübeel's eye staring at him from the other side, which was calm and unbothered. The hole sealed before he could swing again.
"That cwoman…" he snarled, shoulders shaking. "I'll kill her!" His breathing came ragged, and for a second, he looked like he might break. But he steadied himself, exhaling through his nose, the fire in his sword dimming slightly. "She thinks I'm not capable of anything because I just swing this big-ass sword around without using its true skill or whatever. Everything…everything is trying to make me break down right now, and I won't let it. Not in front of a bunch of people, that's embarrassing. But the way she talked seemed like we had no choice in the matter. She talked like we were just gonna go along with everything like puppets. She underestimated me…"
Vert stepped forward, brushing blood off her cheek. "Then we have no choice but to keep going, right? You kill the Witch Mother, then we get escorted out by Aphollo, then you get rid of Yübeel, and then…" Her voice trembled, her tone soft but worn. She was usually the loudest among them, the one who never flinched.
Seeing her reduced to quiet calculation made Chess's stomach twist. If even Vert was shaken, then maybe they truly weren't ready for what waited inside.
"Aphollo kills Cainan…" Chess muttered.
Park made the sign of the stars across his chest. "And maybe even the rest of us. Stars, guide our hearts and minds."
Cainan huffed, shaking his head. "Yeah right, like that's gonna happen. I don't care if I'm still new to all this magic stuff, but I always make it out. I always survive when fate tries to shred me up. Maybe that's why I'm reckless, it's the only thing that keeps me alive. But screw it." He turned, eyes flashing with defiance. "We'll find this Aphollo guy, and… yeah. She spoke to us like we were just gonna go along with everything, right? Then we have no choice but to keep going. No real plans as of right now."
Vert tilted her head. "No plans?"
"I don't know what to really expect besides a bound Witch, a strong Primarch of Stroheim who most likely uses cursed magic, and he's got a few Primarchs in the making hanging around him."
Chess spoke up, trembling slightly. "T-that's gotta be why Yübeel didn't tell us too much about Aphollo…"
"Damn right," Cainan said, smirking faintly. "She wanted us to go in blind. We might be walking into a hundred things we don't expect, but that's every day, isn't it?"
"I'm with all of you," Vert said, her voice regaining a spark of strength. "As summons, we were picked from our own worlds as the best they had to offer. We'll get through this."
"Evil…" Noov growled, bones creaking beneath his skin.
"Indeed," Park murmured, palms pressed together again. "Bramble is all over the temple, defiling the light it once stood for. The Witch Mother or Aphollo must've ravaged these clerics of Lancelotis who tried to stop them."
Cainan's gaze shifted across the hall. "What do you think that Witch Mother came here for?"
Vert shrugged slightly, her expression dark. "Who knows? When I got to this world, witches were rare almost never seen, like elves. But I know they live for some purpose. Always have a reason. They hate injustice, and they will plague or curse an entire kingdom if they hint even a shred of unfairness in its land."
A scream tore through the air, echoing from deep within the temple. The group turned instantly, weapons raised, hearts pounding.
The long hall ahead glowed faintly gold beneath cracked stained glass, lined with towering statues of Lancelotis, the god of light, his wings sculpted from white stone, his eyes inlaid with amber. But many of the statues were broken, their arms torn off, their halos cracked in half.
As they walked through the sanctuary, the air seemed to hum. The statues began to speak, though their mouths did not move.
"Lancelotis declares his heart of paradise to be pure! Its light from the divinity of harmony and beauty!"
"On this day, we defend the temple with Lancelotis' light! The rune of heaven bestowed in our magic!"
"The darkness of Nacht shall not reign from this day forward!"
Cainan frowned. "The statues talk?"
Chess nodded weakly. "Unfortunately. I've been in a few temples before—f-for guidance and strength seeking. They usually talk when someone new comes in."
Vert looked around at the cracked holy figures. "Lancelotis, the god of light… and his brother Nacht, god of darkness. I'm pretty sure these clerics were reminded every day how evil Nacht was, just to keep their faith in Lancelotis burning."
"What's their deal?" Cainan muttered, eyes narrowing as he studied one statue's expression, almost expecting it to turn its head.
'I can't go into everything blind anymore,' he thought. 'I gotta ask questions if I'm gonna survive long enough to be king. I hate it, it makes me feel like prey. Like the longer I linger, the easier it'll be for something to get the jump on me.'
Vert opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak, Cainan pushed open a pair of white and gold double doors, light spilling through in a divine shimmer.
"Cainan!"
Vert said.
What they saw inside stopped them cold.
It was some sanctuary, the sanctuary was immense, with marble ribs glowing gold beneath drifting light, every surface etched with prayers to Lancelotis, half-cracked from years of decay.
Incense smoldered in braziers shaped like hands, and ancient banners hung in quiet surrender, depicting gods haloed in flame. But at the center, floating in tranquil ruin, was her.
A woman of porcelain flesh, stitched with molten gold that traced her veins like divine circuitry. Her robe, once white, was soaked crimson; threads hung torn, fluttering in unseen wind. Four arms moved in fluid grace upon a harp of bone and crystal.
Each pluck summoned faint, spiraling light that danced across the shattered altar floor. Dead prisoners, bodies of Stroheim warriors freshly escaped from Valor's cages, lay beneath her, their eyes half-open as if dreaming to the melody. Her wings were sculpted from blooming roses, their petals alive, trembling with each string she struck.
The sound was intoxicating and peaceful; As her fingers slid across the strings, warmth filled the room like sunrise spilling through an open wound. Cainan's grip softened; Noov's feral breath steadied; Vert's eyes flickered like she was watching her own childhood play out before her.
Even Park's mechanical suit let out a sigh, and Chess, his face slack with serenity, whispered, "Beautiful…" The song wasn't music. It was surrender, memory, the echo of something the world forgot.
Cainan blinked. His mouth opened slowly. "Why… does she have four arms? What is she?"
Vert clenched her teeth until her jaw trembled. "She's… a djinn." Her voice was tight, reverent. "They're the gods' old puppets. Their hearts are made of light and blood, their purpose eternal obedience. The stronger deities always had a djinn to walk and talk in the world for them, as the gods' true form would decimate everything around them if they even touched the mortal plane. Djinn's…were the safer route."
Noov murmured, barely audible, "Peace…"
Park whispered, "Cainan. Djinns are dangerous in this world."
Chess trembled where he stood, tears streaming down his cheek, the melody hollowing him out. That was when Cainan finally snapped. "Fuck—this!" His sword slammed into the marble floor, cracking it like thunder. The sound echoed, and the music stopped. The spell shattered.
The djinn's pale eyes turned toward him. They gleamed like glass catching distant lightning. "I am the messenger of Lancelotis," she said, voice neither human nor divine, but a calm, melodic tremor. "Before the day the Brain came, I shaped the image of the god of light. I wore his form, so mortals would not lose faith. I governed this temple… with my high priests and clerics beneath me. But now, I am all that remains."
Her tone darkened but was still soft, yet threaded with grief. "I play his favorite song for the dying. It brings them courage, peace… before the dark magic heretics consume this place." Her four hands lingered mid-air, trembling faintly. "Nacht's children have torn down what once was paradise. They slaughtered us… I slaughtered them. My body bleeds, my wings wilt, for a man in an owl mask and red wings took my light away."
Cainan's face hardened. "Aphollo…"
Vert nodded grimly. "Place is a maze. Let's ask her to take us—"
The djinn's head tilted. "You know the heretic's name?"
Cainan stepped forward. "Yeah. Lead us to him. To the First Sanctuary. I'll take his head, and the Witch's head myself."
The djinn's voice chilled, carrying through the marble like the echo of a hymn. "You speak his name… in reverence." Her wings unfolded, petals shaking loose like blood rain. "My eyes see all who enter this place. You came with one of the fanatics of Stroheim. You fought beside the warped ones. We used to try and save the warped humans before, and you maim them without hesitation. You are the defilers."
"No!" Chess cried, stumbling forward, hands raised. "We're here to kill Aphollo! We're—"
A single note rang. Blinding. Divine. It split the air like judgment.
SLASH!
Chess's body fell apart mid-step, cleaved perfectly in two. From his open chest bloomed roses, red and wet, their roots coiling through his insides.
"Chess!" Noov snarled.
Vert screamed, "No!"
Park only bowed his head. "Oh…."
Cainan stood still. His eyes traced the petals blossoming from what was once his companion. His thoughts fractured.
'I don't care. I shouldn't. Why should I? I barely knew him. I don't care. I don't. But why—why do I feel pity? He gritted his teeth. Block it out. Block it the hell out.'
Vert raised her sawed-off, saying, "She'll do us in next. We have no choice but to fight. She won't believe us if we tell her we weren't friends with Yübeel."
She thought, 'Dear husband… I don't wanna die here. I want to see you. I can't die here, not to a djinn stronger than me…I won't lose.'
The djinn rose higher, her wings unfurling in full bloom, her voice echoing like a dirge. "Lancelotis called me his fortune. His heart, closest to the Rune of Heaven. I will not allow more filth to profane his home." Roses began crawling from her eyes, roots spilling from her mouth, her ears, weaving into her skin. "The temple does not welcome witches. Nor soldiers of Nacht. Those who breathe his darkness are sentenced to death. The warped ones we spared, partially healed, even by the Rune of Heaven's mercy. But it's location….the witch and the fanatic guard what's left of it. You who walk with sin… you are not welcome."
A red wind rose from nowhere, bleeding across the floor. Cainan gripped his blade; Vert's fingers tightened on the trigger; Noov hunched low, bones razoring through his flesh; Park's palms pressed together, whispering prayers.
Cainan's eyes drifted once more to Chess's lifeless half. He looked away.
'I'm not avenging him. This djinn's in the way. That's all. Am I really showing pity?! I don't feel bad for him at all, I barely knew him.'
He said aloud, low and cold, "There's no convincing her. She's gone. We get through her or die here."
Vert glanced at him, heart pounding, thinking, 'Cainan… why do you fight so hard?'
The djinn reached to her chest. Her fingers plunged through flesh and pulled free a white-gold sword glowing like sunlight through blood. The harp fell silent.
Her head burst apart into red fire, it's shape reforming into a vast literal burning rose, petals aflame with red fire, spreading light and ash through the air.
Her voice came through the roar: "I am the Djinn Armu. And I will blot the sins of darkness as my final praise to you, Lancelotis!"
Flames rose. Petals rained. And as the sanctuary trembled, Cainan and his group stood ready, with howling red around them.