The Nightmare horde was dwindling. Not long ago, Changing Star had joined the fray. Her white flames served as a beacon of light that incinerated anything nearby, and their victory was assured.
Her healing had restored Effie, Caster, Gemma, Seishan, and Tessai, and she was heading for Nico last.
Shaman was still rampaging in the very center. The Fallen Monster it possessed earlier had tragically passed away, overwhelmed by the sheer number of abominations lunging at it, but it had taken the five looming Spire Messengers to accomplish that feat, and there were no longer any Fallen left. Now, it was merely hopping from abomination to abomination, wreaking havoc briefly until it was slayed and took over another host.
In the third line, the archers and Artisans that had depleted their ranged ammo joined the melee.
Everything was going right.
Then, as Nico spun his glaive to decapitate a lunging abomination, he noticed something in the corner of his vision.
It was dark.
Retreating ever so slightly to study the anomaly, he turned his head toward the obelisk where he saw it and almost felt the color drain from his face.
A wall of pure darkness was rolling in from the west, its depths illuminated by furious bolts of lightning.
'A storm…'
He tilted his head to the side, avoiding the claws of a mad beast. Spinning around in one motion, he let his glaive fly upwards and carved a diagonal gash along its torso. The beast split, spine broken as its upper half dangled by loose skin his blade hadn't quite reached.
[You have...]
His thoughts returned to the approaching calamity.
'Not good. Sunless is sealing the dark sea, but how long will that take? Who even knows where the seal is?'
Ducking under the lunge of an Awakened Monster, Nico cycled his blood, exhaled, and thrust directly upwards, tossing the screeching creature back to its kind. Drops of blood rolled down the [Wrathful Crescent's] shaft.
[You have slain an Awakened...]
[You have received...]
A pang of uncertainty made its presence briefly in his mind. It was almost as if his Spirit was asking if it should go.
Focusing on the wide battlefield, Nico considered it, then thought:
'Take something aerial. We'll need it to ascend the spire if there is no clear pathway.'
Perhaps Sunless had encountered something too strong to handle alone and now needed backup, or perhaps it would just be a matter of time. Either way, Shaman would be able to destroy any of his enemies should that be necessary. The Dreamer army wouldn't fall in the time it took. All that mattered was that either the storm was sealed, or the Sleepers beat back the horde in time to hide from it.
Not a couple second later a drop of rain fell upon his helm. Then another. Then hundreds as the storm blotted out the sun and the dark whirlpool beneath began to rise.
Lack of sight was a difficult opponent for most to overcome, but Nico was well adapted. He summoned the [Sacrificial Sight] and leaned into his soul sense, every inch of the battle becoming a vast, moving tapestry in his mind.
Which was why he saw a Carapace Demon barreling straight towards him. Tossing the bodies of its brethren out of the way, it broke into the small circle of enemies that ever-surrounded Nico, only to be met by an explosion.
Unfortunately, the small charge in his mace wasn't nearly enough to deal actual damage to the Demon, but he empowered it with two roots — enough to open a small crack on its armor — then replanted them back into his body after dismissing the weapon and allowing another to take its place.
Dodging backwards, multiple seconds passed, and two more creatures fell as he evaded the Demon's barrage.
A dark arrow settled in his open palm. Carved from a single, gnarled piece of wood that twisted into an arrowhead, it appeared vile and invasive. It was the [Infection Root].
Using his own hand and arm as a slingshot, he launched the rotten arrow into the open crevice, slipping two roots into its soul just before releasing it.
The arrow streaked through the darkness, embedding deep into the Demon's organs.
Then, it spread. Like a disease, roots exploded from the impact, skewering the once proud being until it was no more than a used pincushion.
[You have slain an Awakened Demon…]
Nico beathed heavily.
Focusing on one particular figure, he grimaced.
'Seems she understood what was happening, too.'
Changing Star had opted to focus on clearing as many abominations as possible instead of trying to heal him, and he supported that decision. The black water was rising, now splashing every time Nico took a step.
And it wasn't stopping anytime soon.
The tide was fast.
Too fast.
'How… how is it…'
Gritting his teeth, Nico focused back on the battle. His glaive arced dangerous through the air. Each swing beheaded, dismembered, and mauled. An Awakened Beast and Monster fell before a dozen seconds passed.
'Not enough.'
He focused on the intangible purification of his essence, forcing it to move faster, cycle purer, swirl denser.
Three more fell.
The refining process wasn't working.
The water rose to his knees. Nodes so vile, so corrupted he couldn't fathom looking into their depths without losing himself were rising from the black whirlpool. Once they reached their heads… once the sea fully devoured them…
He lunged forward, only realizing the murky water had reached his waist after trying to swing his weapon through it.
Too slow.
His target retaliated, carving a deep gash into his side. Crystaline blue blood mixed with the water as it spilled from his wound.
Holding back a strained cry, Nico expertly evaded the follow up attacks from three others and mercilessly slaughtered them in quick succession.
A cold gust blew across the bridge, and the water reached up to his mid-abdomen. Other, shorter people must've been drowning by now.
But then the entire world shook.
Far in the distance, the Crimson Spire released a deafening, solemn groan, and the water started retreating.
The storm, swift as it came, parted. The lightning died in the sky. The clouds drained. The sky was clear once again, and furious white sunlight basked the wounded Sleeper and Nightmare armies.
The black whirlpool, once indominable even during the day, was sucked into the spire's depths, gone without a trace of moisture lingering in the empty moat.
'They did it…'
Sighing, he dove back into the battle, only to reel in enormous pain. Pain so overwhelming, so ever-present that it threatened to drown every thought he'd conjured to keep himself steady.
The menacing sun at the top of spire was burning… burning away the souls of all who stood in its light. The conjecture formed instantly.
His scream was echoed by the wails of Nightmare creatures around him, their eyes bloodshot and wide. Shaman, some distance away, had hid itself within the spire's gates, its soul safe but mind attempting to break through the storm of violent thoughts overwhelming Nico.
Nico gasped, his body buckling onto the ground. The [Wrathful Crescent] clattered noisily beside him.
'Wha — how… I can't… can't…'
His body violently twitched, all three cores and his own blood eroding at a speed much slower than the others, but enough to make him breathless. There were too many feelings.
A clear ring echoed across the coral plain.
It did nothing to still his suffering.
Then, sometime later, he felt his body being lifted.
Instinctively, he tried to fight back, but recognized the figure through his wounded senses.
"Do me a favor and dismiss that armor! It's damn heavy, and I'm tired!"
Gemma.
Nico managed to pull enough of his mind together to follow his order, allowing all but the tunic, pants, and boots to dissolve into his injured soul.
"What… are you wearing a blindfold?"
Nico bit back an anguished scream.
"The hell does it matter for, fool?!"
The veteran Hunter grinned slightly, and Nico rasped out a series of coughs.
Eventually, they had crested more than halfway across the bridge, and Nico managed to pull himself back together, the sudden spike of Sleeper's emotions dulling as Shaman restrained his Attribute.
He ran next to Gemma, resummoning his armor, and reached the gargantuan gates of the spire.
Diving into the cool shade, the Dreamer army, numbered six hundred strong, completely collapsed. Just less than a third of them had been culled during the bloody massacre. Each were covered in torn armor, dried blood, sweat, and rainwater. Their bodies were bruised, beaten, mauled, and torn. Even their souls were ripped apart by the sun itself.
But, they had not submitted, and until they escaped through the gateway or perished, they never would.