Far from Eleithiya, in a city swallowed in ruin and devoid of any life. A lone figure was engaged in an intense battle against a defiled being. The monstrosity resembled a giant undead wolf, its limbs had already been severed, dark blood streaming down them, yet the creature didn't seem to be in pain. Its eyes were filled with malice for the man standing in front of it, unfazed. Wielding a bloodied katana in his hand, his cold gaze met the creature's.
Without uttering another word, Asher lunged forward, runes igniting on his arms, and a fury of strikes launched at the monster. Instead of evading them, the monster lunged forward. His blade clashed with the fangs of the monster, creating a shockwave. A moment later, Asher vanished from its sight. The beast turned around, seemingly caught off guard, but it was too late. In the next moment, its head was severed as it fell to the ground.
"This was the last one," he whispered, sitting on a rock nearby. His gaze turned toward the towering skyscraper in the distance, covered in black vines and moss.
"They are growing stronger," He murmured. The profane beings grew stronger over time, the more their blood was infected, the stronger they grew. An ancient Vilesworn could be as much as three times stronger than a newly born one, possessing the power to obliterate an entire region on their own.
A faint unease rippled through his mind. "Looks like the war is inevitable," he murmured silently as he heard footsteps echoing behind him. It was Gerald.
Asher glanced at Gerald. Both of them were sent to retrieve something of great importance in the depths of this fallen city.
He was meant to follow Asher's command, but he wasn't given much information about it.
"Is that where we're headed?" He asked, his eyes gazing at the top of the skyscraper. Up there, a pillar of ominous red light tore through the sky—a monolith of profanity. If an ordinary person stayed near it, he would succumb to the profanity and become like one of the walking, bloodthirsty, mindless ghouls, or be consumed by one.
"No," Asher denied, "This place is infested with profane entities. Destroying the monolith will only enrage them further. We don't have time to deal with them"
"Then what are we doing here?" He asked, seemingly frustrated and exhausted after fighting numerous profane beings.
"Follow me," Asher simply replied.
Soon, they reached the ruined skyscraper, its lower floor completely obliterated and taken over by nature. Asher looked around for a few moments before heading in a certain direction. It was the gateway to the lower basement of the building. They began descending into the basement.
"Why are we heading towards the basement?" Gerald asked, confusion etched on his face.
"They must have hidden it somewhere around here." He whispered.
"What exactly is hidden here? I understand the mission is supposed to be confidential, but at least I should know what we are dealing with to be prepared, you know."
Silence
"... you're enjoying this, aren't you?"
No response
They descended into the basement, reaching a long, dark tunnel, its thick walls carved with numerous runic spells. The air here felt different, heavier. Like something ominous was hiding at the end of the darkness.
"That's not ominous at all," Gerald muttered.
At the far end of the tunnel stood a weathered wooden gate marked with a symbol. A bloodied eye.
"...The Exiled," Gerald's expression grew dark.
"The higher-ups have been tracking their movements closely," Asher replied calmly. "Not much is known about this mysterious faction, and their objective remains obscure and unclear."
"So this is their hideout? What madman would establish their base below a Monolith of profanity?"
"It's not a hideout," Asher interrupted. "It was a sanctum, where they worshipped, held gatherings, and performed rituals. Their kind has long abandoned this place."
He moved forward, raised his blade, and broke through the door.
On the other side of the door stood an enormous hall. Gerald used a scroll to illuminate the dark hall.
"Be careful, they might still leave traps behind," Asher muttered as they carefully entered the temple of the exiled.
Inside the hall, the broken stone walls were covered from floor to ceiling in murals, vast and intricate, depicting deities and profanes locked in war and chaos. There was Yggdrasil, ancient and enormous, her leaves painted in gold. The Aerith deities, their armour and wings intricately painted in silver and gold, and the profane beings painted in red and black.
And beside them was a third figure, the Absolute One. A being whom the Exiled worshipped, its face deliberately left faceless.
Asher stopped at the last mural in the center. A blood-red moon painted at the horizon, three pillars beneath it depicting the pillars of profanity. Only one word was carved on the bottom of the cracked and broken mural 'Salvation.'
"A bunch of fanatics," He muttered under his breath before turning away.
In the center of the hall stood a broken, faceless statue of a six-winged angel, blood pouring down its eyes and hands, forming a bubbling pool around it.
However, they were not there to inspect the sculpture or study the murals, they were here to retrieve something far more important—a mythical artifact used in the war against Profane by the Aerith deities centuries ago.
A weapon rumored to be capable of turning cities to ashes. Ever since the rumour surfaced of the Exiled possibly possessing it, the higher-ups have been anxious. If such a weapon really did exist, they needed it now more than ever, and perhaps this place might contain some clues about its whereabouts.
"Gerald, use your Eye of Judgment," he ordered.
The Eye of Judgment was a runic artifact that enhanced the wielders' vision and gave them the ability to see through every illusion conjured in front of them. It was a valuable artifact he had inherited from his family after his father perished in the war against Aeriths.
Gerald activated his Eye of Judgment, his iris glowing faintly in green radiance. "I see…nothing," He replied. "It looks like there is some sort of hidden enchantment in this place that nullifies runic artifacts and spells, its obstructing my vision."
"As I thought, I won't be that easy." Asher's gaze traced the entire hall, supposedly trying to find something.
"There must be something." He looked around for clues, starting with the murals, running his hand along their cracked walls, looking for hidden enchantments. Nothing. He moved to the statue next. Circling it, examining the blood pouring down its face, forming a crimson puddle.
"It's too little blood."
If the blood had been pouring down the statue for a long time, the room should have been flooded by now. It's as if all that blood is being drained somewhere. He crouched, dragging his fingers beneath the surface of the pool. Under the pool of blood, Countless runes were carved onto the floor, forming a runic enchantment.
"Quite devious." He whispered, unsheathing his blade.
Stepping forward, he walked in the center of the hall, where the core of the enchantment was hidden, and plunged his blade into the ground. For a moment, nothing occurred. However, a moment later, the floor gleamed in golden light, illuminating the entire hall as it started to tremble, revealing a glass ceiling above. Sunlight permeated the hall after several years of being hidden in darkness. At the same time, a passage opened up beneath the pool of blood, leading into a room devoid of any light. Something was in that room, Asher could sense it.
"At least warn me before doing shit like that," Gerald yelled from behind.
"We don't have time, the noise must have alerted the entities nearby. Hurry up, activate your artifact, and tell me what you see ahead in the hidden room."
"...Fine," Gerald grumbled.
His eyes gleamed with green radiance, his eyes widening as he looked into the dark room.
"Tell me, what do you see?"
"It's a prison."
It was a room with numerous cells. Most of them were filled with human skeletons chained up in iron shackles, their walls covered in dried blood. The vile smell of blood and rotting corpses covered the entire room.
"Just what the hell were they doing here?" Gerald mumbled, inspecting each cell.
In the cell farthest away, a corpse was lying on the floor with multiple black chains holding it. Maggots were eating away at its body, as dark blood streamed down its body, or what was left of it. Its skin was pitch black with strange blue patterns covering its entire body.
"There is another room," Gerald said as Asher and he stood before a metallic door. Inside, a withered corpse was lying in one corner of the room, with numerous old files, covered in dirt and dried blood, lying on the floor all around him.
Asher reached out to take one of the files and flipped through its pages, his expression growing worse with each page. Inside the file, there was detailed information about some human experiment the Exiled were running down here in the cellar.
Subject 44–status: Deceased.
"This was the most promising candidate we've encountered so far"
"Unlike others, Subject 44 was able to resist the transfusion and managed to stay alive for a whole week before finally perishing. This marked a remarkable step in our research compared to others who perished within hours."
"As days passed, Subject 44 showed signs of weakness, experiencing nausea, high fever, and bleeding. We believed his death was imminent."
"However, on the last day, something unexpected occurred. The subject underwent a strange transformation under unknown circumstances. His skin grew dark, and his pupils became pitch-black, with strange blue patterns etched into his skin. He showed immense strength, even managing to kill a Vilesworn with his bare hands. However, the subject soon went berserk, killing many of the subjects in the process."
"The subject then collapsed and did not regain consciousness."
"Cause of death: unknown."
"Project Salvation has made remarkable progress with subject 44. We can now commence the next phase."