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“You there?” I asked, approaching the man.
He turned to me, clearly on edge, before exhaling in relief.
“Yeah.”
“Why did you stand there, turned like that?”
“Just… I think I saw something in the forest.” He looked over my shoulder with a scrunched face before shaking his head. “Never mind.”
Clementus and I looked at one another.
“You look terrible,” he said with raised eyebrows.
“You’re one to speak,” I replied.
I didn’t know what happened, but he had clearly been in a fight recently, judging by the healed deep gash on his side. He was still holding onto the crosier, but he now carried two more items. By his side, a horn was secured to his belt—not the kind to blow for battle, but rather a container, polished smooth and coming to a narrow point. The second object was much more obvious and lay next to him on the ground. It was a massive, wrapped object that was pretty obviously a sword—gigantic, beyond just a two-handed claymore.
“Fruitful?” he asked, looking at the box hastily secured to my belt.
“Very. Same as yours, I imagine.”
“Just humble family antiques.”
“Would you look at that—same as mine. A box and a dog.”
“A dog?”
I nodded slowly as he looked me over, but instead of asking any more questions, he simply tilted his head to the side.
With the short conversation over, we both made our way back. The walk between mansions was the same as before, with many eyes tracking our movement, observing everything we did. But nothing came out to attack us.
I looked to the side and saw the pope struggling with the massive sword.
“Need help?” I whispered as we slowly approached the area near the stairs going down to the city.
The man looked at me with half-closed eyes as if I’d told an unfunny joke.
“Aren’t you a wizard? No offense, but you don’t look exactly that much stronger than I am.”
“I could carry that horn for you.”
That surprisingly earned me a chuckle.
“I guess noblesse oblige after—”
He didn’t finish as we felt a change in the mana. It was a reverberation we could feel in our very souls, followed by the descent of a crushing weight. It was strong enough to push my emotions beyond control, stirring a storm within that paralyzed me. From the mansions came a wail of thousands of voices crying out in unison.
The pressure lasted only a moment, but it was long enough for both of us to freeze in place, unable to do anything. Once it lifted, I saw the pope’s face twisted into an expression of deep sadness as tears streamed down his face—the same tears that were falling down my face as well, I realized. The shock that had assaulted our senses was so great that I had to bring my hand to my face to realize I wore the same expression of sadness, etched into my features.
Then the fires erupted.
I looked to the city again, this time not having to open my irises. There was nothing around the central spire—or above it. For the first time, the cavern’s high ceiling became visible, lit by the orange glow below it. There were runes etched over our heads—an arcane circle of a size I did not think possible. The magic was dormant now, but the scale was unbelievable.
The ceiling was barely visible in the light of the many fires that had started in the second circle of the city. Many bigger buildings—ones that looked, from a distance, to be for storage—were now set ablaze, and in the ever-present silence of the cave, a faint sound of screaming could be heard. We watched in shock as the burning buildings burst apart and creatures poured from their insides. The battle above the city didn’t pick up. The air was still, with none of the powerhouses visible.
We both stood there watching in stunned silence.
“By God’s grace,” Clementus whispered after a few moments. “The people we sent to the second safe spot…”
“I sent,” I corrected, not dragging my eyes from the scene. “It was my plan.”
“I agreed to the plan. I benefited from it. The fault is not yours alone.”
“Not like we knew this would happen,” I said.
My feelings were strange. Usually, I had trouble finding my human part, needing a pause to make the effort. But here in the singularity, it felt the other way around. I felt very much human—pride, guilt, caring for a friend, and even a willingness to sacrifice for her. They all came easily, their source far enough from fear to be felt in almost full force. They muddled my mind.
“Even if unknowingly, actions that cause suffering should be surmounted by guilt,” he said, eyes glued to the horrifying scene. “It’s human.”
“Yeah.” I only looked at him in silence. “It makes my skin crawl.”
There was no point in running now. We still needed to reach the stairs and go down them. The new aberrations would be all over the city by then.
We could see the procession of burning creatures make their way through the streets. I noticed the storage buildings that burst into flames were spread evenly apart. I could draw a ring going through all of them, the same way one would draw nodes of a ritual circle. The city was getting filled with small dots of light wandering the streets, as if looking over a colony of fireflies erratically flying over a jar they were trapped in.
The sight was intensified by the emptiness that accompanied it, the sensation of helplessness in the face of tragedy actually materialized through the ever-present mana. It filled the air like the smell of ozone after a storm, causing a bitter taste in my mouth.
“How do you reconcile that?” the pope finally asked, making an effort to move his eyes away from the scene and to me. “How do you reconcile tragedies like that with whatever strange gods you believe in?” he asked, a pained note in his voice, almost desperate.
The air between us was still and silent, aside from the screams and cries—barely a whisper from the distance. I let the stillness hang until I was sure he wouldn’t continue, then gave him the answer.
“You know, my father used to say that the only difference between our gods and the rest is that they don’t hide their greed behind a veil of reason. That’s the great thing about serving the abyssal god of entropy and madness—I don’t expect anything good from it.” I flicked my gaze toward the cityscape before continuing. “I don’t have to reconcile any tragedy, because it’s just par for the course. It’s when tragedy doesn’t happen that I get to celebrate.”
The pope frowned at my words.
“The fact that I’m here in human form, the fact that I’m not looking at this city with eyes socketed in tentacles is a win in my book.”
I fully turned to him, letting a wide smile split my features as I repeated my father’s favorite point.
“And that’s another thing. My existence means the score is one–null for me, and if I ever get killed and join the procession of pipers, then it’s one–one. Meaning the best the gods can do is force a tie.”
The pope looked at me in stunned silence before giving me a short but genuine laugh.
“The best the gods can do against you is a tie. Lord Almighty, you are arrogant,” he said with a smile, our conversation finally breaking us out of our stupor as we made our way to the stairs.
“Then why bring only me here?” I asked as we walked. “Considering my reputation?”
“Had I taken Helga or Nathan, they would have tried to knock me out and take me back. They are loyal and honest, but they are my followers. My survival is more important than their own lives. There is no way they would let me go there, not alone into that mansion—and had they joined me, they would be dead.” He turned his head to me with a half smile. “To them, I’m the leader of the church and God’s favored son. To you, I’m just an asshole with a crosier. It’s almost refreshing.”
I nodded lightly. “Well, if you need refreshments, I have an entire list of names alongside ‘asshole with a crosier.’ Want to hear it?”
“If you could be yourself, but silent, it would make this situation slightly better.”
“I know a cat you would really get along with.”
Clementus was about to retort, but then froze with his mouth half open. I followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at. An orange glow could be seen by the gate we were approaching. It was similar to the one from the same strange procession we saw earlier, but smaller.
“How are you for a fight?” I asked.
“Not good,” he said. “I have some healing and buffing spells, but my magic isn’t that good against the aberrations.”
“I’m good on attack, but took a hit to my spirit earlier. I won’t be casting that fast.”
“We lack a frontline,” Clementus said, and I agreed.
“I…” I started, but hesitated. A familiar was a good trump card to keep, but it looked more and more like we didn’t have a choice in the matter. “I might have something for a frontline, but as a last resort.”
“We don’t know what reaction the aberrations might have to your magic,” Clementus said with a frown.
“I know,” I agreed, especially seeing how strange my family’s memory in the singularity was. “But it’s something different.”
He nodded after a second of hesitation. We got ready for a fight before approaching the gate. We could hear scratching from behind it, as well as shouts and some words spoken in hoarse, ruined voices.
“Ready?” Clementus asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” I said.
And with that, I activated the gate.
The metal door jumped to the side, revealing a group of burned, barely standing bodies. If they were civilians, we should be good, but memories of fighters seemed to keep their battle skills.
Before they could react, I fired Cutting Storm into the middle of the crowd to cut us a path forward. The spell shredded through them easily, not meeting any resistance from the burned bodies.
But before I could celebrate, all the hit creatures exploded into a ball of flame, followed by a loud screech that almost knocked us out by sheer power.
I put up a Shield stored in the staff in time before the flame reached us. In the corner of my eye, I noticed a Shield of light materialize in front of the pope, and then the flame hit us. I could feel my skin about to boil in the split second the fire engulfed the spot where we stood. Thankfully, it lasted only a moment.
“Immobilize, don’t kill!” the pope shouted before running into the path cut through the spell.
I followed him. The few remaining creatures turned to us slowly and swung their clawed hands. Thankfully, they must have been residents, as the attacks were easy to weave in and out of.
Bolting away from them, we ran into the labyrinth of tight alleys, dodging and weaving back and forth, trying to pick the passages with the fewest creatures. The journey through the back roads took us over an hour and was exhausting both mentally and physically.
But we were finally approaching the gate. It was then that we ran into another creature. Its back bent, the flesh replaced with ash clumped together into the shape of a person. The creature was cradling a bright ember in its arms, no bigger than a child.
We were almost face-to-face, too late to turn. Before we could do anything, the ember in its arms let out a clear cry, sounding like that of a newborn. The sound wave hit the pope and me, throwing us back.
What saved me was the robe. I saw the runes flash, taking the brunt of the temperature, leaving me with only lightly scorched eyebrows. The pope was in much worse shape, with burns showing on his skin, but alive.
“Shield!” I shouted at him and fired at the enemy as it was turning in our direction.
Much like those before, it didn’t dodge, taking the simple spell in the chest. The creature collapsed into ash, but the moment the ember it was holding hit the ground, it exploded—much worse than the group before.
I saw the gems in the pope’s crosier go pale, and in front of us, a statue of an angel made out of light appeared, kneeling in prayer. Its wings were wide, split to the sides, and as the wave of flame hit it, it followed the wings and was redirected around us.
We survived, but there was another problem. The city was burning down, and the heat and smoke were getting worse.
“Move,” I shouted, dragging the man up and helping him grab the sword and run.
We were so close. We would see the gate soon—just two more streets. We took a corner and, to our relief, the alley was empty. Crossing it took only seconds, and we could already see the gate.
And not only the gate. There were creatures there.
The long street leading from the gate into the city was wider, and on it, aberrations fought. The remaining patrols, as well as the old church forces, were being put down right in front of our eyes by the burning enemies.
While the previous creatures resembled burned corpses—fragile and emaciated—these were different. They were also corpses, but wreathed in flame. The fire danced on their arched frames, lighting everything around them except their faces, where constant shadows twisted into expressions of hatred and despair.
The moment we stepped into the alley, their heads turned in our direction. Not in our direction, I realized—toward the pope.
“I think we should move,” I said. “You get started on the seal, I’ll try to stop them.”
“Good idea,” he replied.
The aberrations wailed.
I used a stored Death’s Grasp to lock one of them, and cast another for the second, pinning two enemies that would be on the pope’s path. I then fired Pierce into the closest one.
The good news was that it got their attention. The bad news was that they now had a new target, and without hesitation, they charged.
They thankfully seemed to be civilians, because the charge wasn’t orchestrated—but as I dodged and saw the first one tear through rock, leaving molten stone in its place, it quickly became obvious it wouldn’t be easy.
Using Force Control, I flung myself over the three as they grouped for another charge. I moved to the main street for some space. I couldn’t lead them on forever, but I was hoping a minute might be possible—if I could just get them trapped somehow. And as I looked over the street searching for something, I noticed it.
A procession coming in our direction—a procession of ashen bodies wreathed in fire. And in the middle, the biggest abomination I’d seen came crawling—an amalgamation of rubble, bodies, and fire. The flesh mixed with ash and pieces of wood was shaped into a humanoid torso with two long, spider-like hands, which it used to crawl forward. The torso had no neck, just a massive head, maw opened wide in a silent scream.
Around it, many aberrations walked, screaming, wailing, and hitting their hands against pieces of burned wood. And I could see a few more walking in front of the procession, like heralds of the thing crawling on. The moment I met their eyes, they charged.
Turning around, I saw the pope had begun opening the gate—but they would be here before it opened. I walked back as the new enemies made their way closer, joining the three in the alley. Five in total now, with one of them visibly bigger and stronger.
Clementus walked closer to me, an expression of grim determination on his face. The enemy tilted its head, then, after giving a roar of rage, attacked.
I tried using Death’s Grasp, but the biggest one tore through the hands as the bone almost melted against the flame.
One more trick up my sleeve.
I saw the nails start orbiting the pope, but before he could fire, a tar-like substance flew out of me and materialized into a creature.
The previous dog disguise was gone.
What stood in front of us was a strange being. It had four large goat horns, one pair twisted back, and one pair went down along its head. The face was between a dog and a goat, with a clearly canine snout but ending with a small beard.
Its body was something between a tiger and something bigger, like a bull. It had three pairs of legs, two in the front and one in the back—all ending with long, sharp claws. It also had a long tail ending in a stinger reminiscent of a stingray’s.
It looked around briefly with two pairs of feline eyes, but the strangest thing was the multiple appendages—tentacles, to be exact—growing from its back upwards and drifting over it as if suspended in water rather than air, with light hypnotic movements from side to side.
The whole creature was pitch black aside from the yellow eyes.
Before I could give a command, I saw—and strangely enough felt—its muscles in the legs flex, and it shot like a torpedo forward, ramming into the chest of the charging creature.
The flames burned around its head, but it was clearly made for ramming and easily survived the attack. The same couldn’t be said about the enemy, who was shot away like a cannonball.
“What the fuck is that?” Clementus asked, his eyes glued to the new arrival.
I looked at the distressed man before giving a short explanation.
“That’s my dog.”