The wooden elevator rattled and shook as it descended at high-speed, Mira gripping the lever inside to force it to a halt. The thought of Kuger betraying them had crossed her mind, but she had let her guard down too much.
Perhaps it was when Guthethya had urged them to trust Kuger and the Crimson Sun, and Mira had seen in her eyes that she truly meant it.
I hope Master's safe. If they do anything to him, then I'll be a failure as his slave-… no, servant.
The elevator slammed into the ground with such force that Mira almost fell face-first. She caught herself and lifted her gaze, only to find herself staring into a giant chamber.
Obsidian walls stretched around her, etched with glowing crimson sigils. Steam pipes ran along the edges, hissing steadily. At the far end stood a massive statue of a woman cradling an orb encircled by a carved orbit.
Two hallways extended on either side of the statue, lit up in a way that made them seem to shimmer faintly in the glow. The low, mechanical hum of unseen engines thrummed through the floor, vibrating in Mira's chest as she stepped out onto the polished tiles.
A circle of robed figures shifted as she approached, their identical metal-snouted masks turning to face her in unison. One stepped out from the ring, his staff tapping against the glass-smooth tiles in steady rhythm.
He halted before her and raised his mask just enough to reveal sharp, dark eyes, before lowering in a curt and practiced bow.
"I am Kurr, Fifth Grand Priest of the Crimson Sun Order," he said, his words slow and deliberate.
"You…" Mira's eyes narrowed. "So you're a friend of that mellet who betrayed us?"
Kurr tilted his head slightly. "Are you talking about Kuger? I wouldn't go as far as too call him a friend, but we are accomplices in the grand scheme of things. Now, you walked into our hands the moment you placed your trust in him. Do you not see? You were never welcomed here. You were bait, nothing more. Through you, the hero and his wretched companions will come willingly into the jaws of the Crimson Sun."
Her brow arched in confusion. "Bait? What are you talking about?"
"For the birth of a new age." His staff tapped once against the polished floor. "Your precious hero is not merely a champion. He is the foundation of what is to come. His blood carries gifts no mortal line can ever touch. Heroes alone possess Skills that reshape the world. And when those gifts pass to their offspring…"
He let the thought hang, eyes gleaming. "The next generation will eclipse all who came before. Stronger. Greater. Beyond the reach of gods or kings."
Kurr tilted his head, mock sympathy in his gaze. "If you thought to stand beside him, to share in his path… I fear your luck has run dry. The Order will see to it that his seed is not squandered on sentiment."
"Is that so?" she replied coolly, her voice even, "so you want to make humans stronger by using Master? Can you not do that without all of the scheming? It would save you a lot of trouble, wouldn't it?"
"Your kind would never understand our ambition," Kurr said flatly, the softness vanishing from his tone. "Your presence here is proof enough of your allegiance, and I cannot allow you to crawl back to the light with what you've learned. You will not leave this sanctum alive."
With a flick of his staff, his voice rang loud through the chamber like a whip:
"Execute her in the name of Ucliat!"
The masked acolytes lunged at once, their synchronized movements almost unnatural. Mira's muscles coiled instantly. She dropped into a low stance and moved, fast and precise.
Her strikes landed with brutal force, each blow driving into bone and muscle, sending bodies crashing to the ground, their weapons clattering across the polished floor.
However, Kurr didn't flinch. He just signaled again, and a second wave stepped up, dozens of steam-powered rifles clicking into place before spitting magic-laced bolts at her.
Mira stomped down hard, cracking the stone beneath her feet, causing the volley to slam into the upthrust rubble instead. In the same motion she kicked the airborne debris back at them, scattering masked attackers like bowling pins while Kurr's unblinking eyes followed her every move.
Kurr's lips curled into a faint, cold smile. "Impressive," he said, voice echoing across the room. "But don't think you can end it so easily. You are one person against all of us. Not only do we outnumber you, but each of us wields the Tools of Heroes; the instruments, devices, and Skills the champions of old brought into this world. Secrets never meant for you."
He tapped his staff against the floor, the tiles trembling beneath her feet. Mira felt it before it hit, the tiny flashes of stray thoughts brushing her mind. The rhythm of the attacks, the timing in the masked acolytes' movements.
It wasn't clear, but it was enough. She adjusted accordingly, ducking and weaving without thinking, letting the subtle cues guide her.
Mira grit her teeth, ears ringing from the warning shots. She planted her feet, forcing herself to charge forward towards him with clenched fists. But before she could reach him, a sudden pang of dizziness hit her mid-step, stumbling and nearly losing her balance.
Kurr seized the moment, his staff slamming into her abdomen, the force sending her crashing backward across the room. Pain shot through her body, knocking the air out of her lungs.
"You thought…" Kurr's voice cut over the ringing in her ears, calm and sharp at the same time, "you could penetrate my Divine Skill: No Man's Boundary?"
Mira gasped for air, staggering to her hands and knees, her vision tilting. She had felt it, the invisible walls of his skill pressing in, constraining her.
But she could read it. She could see the next step, the next though, if only for tiny flashes. They weren't trying to kill her yet. They were testing, looking for the crack that would make her break. She wasn't going to give them that.
She slammed her hand against the side of her head to clear the fog, the impact sending a small tremor through her skull. If they were underestimating her, she'd make them regret it. As the hero's servant, she couldn't let herself be the weak link.
She planted one foot behind her, crouching low, ready to sprint. Kurr raised his hand, calm and deliberate, and the masked men began to scatter, some darting down the glowing hallways, others spreading wide around her.
"Wasting manpower on you is less than ideal," he said, gripping his staff with both hands and lowering his gaze. His lips moved silently in a quiet chant. "Tanva kirsten balanda. Tanva kirsten matanda. Tarvna kirsten tandanta…"
Blue light crept along the floor like veins of fire, crawling out in rings that twisted and overlapped until they filled almost the whole chamber. The air grew heavy, humming with pressure.
Kurr's eyes snapped opened, cold and sharp. "Tro-ko Surman!"
A burst of blue flame shot up from the center, heat slamming against her face. When the fire died down, something massive stood in its place.
A towering creature of bark-like hide and corded muscle, its head and back crowned with horned tendrils. Eyes like molten gold cut through the haze, and its wide, jagged maw twisted into a silent snarl. Long, curved claws scraped against the tiles with a shriek, a warning for what's to come.
Mira froze, recognizing the beast in front of her. A Feaster, known as a Five-Star monster. Even she couldn't help but admit it was impressive, realizing that perhaps she needed to take this more seriously.
A split second later, one of its tendrils shot out like a whip. She threw herself to the side, the strike missing by a hair and leaving a deep crater in the floor. Another came, then another, smashing through pillars and tearing the air apart with each blow.
She ducked low, dodging between the strikes in a blur, but it wasn't working. Those brief flashes, the glimpses into her opponent's intent, didn't work on things without thoughts. A mindless beast had nothing to read.
Her gaze flicked to Kurr, who stood perfectly still behind the creature, his staff glowing faintly as his eyes tracked her every move.
Unless… it wasn't mindless.
If he was the one controlling it, then she wasn't fighting the Feaster at all. She was fighting him. That meant she had a chance. One she would not waste.
The beast roared, a deep, guttural sound that rattled her chest as sharper tendrils shot toward her like arrows. She didn't move, waiting until the very last second, eyes darting for that tiny opening she could slip through.
But then another tendril came in from the side, one she hadn't accounted for. Pain exploded through her ribs as it slammed into her, sending her stumbling straight into the path of another strike.
The next tendril was already coming, its tip aimed for her skull. She barely had time to cross her arms, bracing for impact. It grazed her shoulder, leaving a deep gash. Another tendril lashed out towards her in a downward arc. This time, she managed to dodge it and jump a few steps back, keeping her distance and on guard.
The pain is white-hot, but the sight of her dark blood spraying on the ground does something to her.
A flash of memory, of the smell of smoke and blood. The clash of steel on chitin. A human gleaming in armor, cruel and sharp, standing over a bloodied tenebrim with similar markings. The sound of a horn snapping. A feeling of shame that she did not quite recognize as her own.
The memory is gone as fast as it came, leaving only phantom pain in the stub of her horn and a roaring in her ears.
Kurr smiled, a cold and calculative one. "You're quite resilient, servant of the Hero. A testament to your breed. But can you predict my Feaster when it fights not on it's own instincts?"
Mira staggered to her feet, clutching her shoulder. He's right. Reading his thoughts gives her half a second of warning, but the Feaster's movements are pure violence with no mental process. She can't out-predict a puppet.
But if the puppet could perform actions without it's own will, then it would need to take orders from someone. From its Master. From him. She would not try to read the Feaster's mind, but Kurr's instead.
She watches his eyes, the subtle tension in his hands on the staff, the micro-shifts in his stance. Now she knows that the Feaster is an extension of his will. She sees his gaze flick to her left leg, and a millisecond later, a tendril sweeps low. She was already leaping, now possessing the strategy to avoid his attacks. She wasn't faster than his monster, but she was faster than his commands.
As the beast retracts its tendrils to attack, Mira takes advantage and charges forward. She aims not for the Feaster, but for Kurr, weaving through the beast's attacks like waddling through thick water.
Annoyed at how things have progressed, Kurr changed tactics barks a new command. The effect is immediate, and the Feaster stomps down on the ground, causing a shockwave of force and debris that knock Mira off her feet. As she stumbles, the Feaster opens its mouth not to bite, but to vomit a stream of acidic sludge. It was a wide-area attack that she couldn't dodge in her position.
Far above in the high, pipe-crossed ceiling, a shadow detached itself and dropped down between Mira and the acidic spray, forming into a lithe humanoid shrouded in darkness, with eyes that glowed like embers. With a raise of its hand, the shadows around it merged together and swallowed the acid stream with a hiss, dropping it harmlessly to the ground like mud.
The figure, now in a form resembling a young man with ash-grey skin and wild black hair, glances back at Mira. His voice is a low, rough growl, unfamiliar with speech. "Master... worried. Smell... your blood."
Mira looked at him in suspicion and a hint of surprise. Who was this unknown savior, and what did he mean by that? Still, it didn't change the fact that the threat was not yet neutralized, and she didn't have time to think about who was friend and foe.
"Can you handle the Feaster?" she said,
The man nodded in response, turning to face the now growling beast. Without another word, he seemed to melt into the shadows at his feet, reappearing in a blink behind the Feaster's flank. Claws of solidified darkness extended from his hands as he slashed at the thick, bark-like hide.
He was buying her time. Time she would not waste. Pushing away the pain on her shoulder, she lunged for Kurr. The Feaster turned to intercept, but a shadowy claw slammed into its side, forcing it to turn its attention away.
The Grand Priest's eyes widened behind his now-tilted mask. He raised his staff, its tip glowing with compressed mana for a point-blank detonation. His calculative smile was gone, replaced by a mask of irritation. "Tro-Ko–"
Mira didn't let him finish, her fist clenched and ready. But instead of trying to punch through his barrier, she changed trajectory and slammed her fist into the polished floor at his feet. With a sound like cracking ice, her superhuman strength shattered the polished tile, sending a shockwave of rubble and dust upwards, wavering his stance and his incantation.
The barrier [No Man's Boundary] flickered visibly where the debris struck it, revealing its dome-like shape for a moment. Kurr stumbled a step back, and in that moment of distraction, she closed the distance as he recovered. Reading the sharp spike of alarm in his mind, she knew his next move. A quick, brutal jab with the butt of his staff, enhanced by a Wind Spell. She leaned into it, letting the blow glance off her already-injured shoulder. Pain flared, but it gave her an opening inside his guard.
Her hand shot out, clamping down on the wrist that held the staff. Her grip was like iron, tightening and twisting it with a brutal wrench. The crack of bone was sickeningly loud, but Kurr's scream was cut short as she drove her forehead into his masked nose. The force of it made the cage-mask bend inwards with a crunch.
He collapsed down onto the ruined floor, gasping, his staff clattering and rolling away, its light dying.
Mira stood over him, breathing raggedly, blood dripping down her. The sound of the fight behind her, with the Feaster's roars and the wet tearing sounds of the shadow claws, seemed distant. The acolytes froze, uncertain and hesitant to keep fighting at the brutal display of power.
Then, in the stunned silence of the acolytes, a wet laughter bubbled up.
"You… you fight well for a broken thing." He spat, blood trickling from underneath his mask. "But you're just the Hero's pet. Do you even know what you are? What he is?"
Mira said nothing, her expression flat as ever. She was a servant to her Master, simple as that. To question it further was futile.
His head slumped towards her, one eye visible through the crumpled metal, blazing with a hatred that felt decades old. "Yosuke Minato found you interesting, didn't he? A tenebrim who didn't fight. Who just... watched. He broke your horn and your mind to make you pliable. A curious pet for the great hero."
Each word was a key on the fragile lock of her memories. She saw flashes: the gleaming armor, the condescending smile, a spell washing over her, a comforting numbness that felt like drowning...
"But he was a fool," Kurr hissed, pushing himself up on an elbow. "He didn't know what your clan was. What they served. The Grand Monarch's blood ran in your chieftain's veins. Tainted, warlord blood. And you... you carry it too. The blood of the enemy that nearly drowned this continent in war and monsters."
Grand Monarch. The title meant nothing to her conscious mind, but something inside her recoiled, as if it struck something in her very soul.
"You're lying, " she said, her words coming out hollow.
"Am I?" Kurr coughed. "Ask the tenebrim who runs with the four-armed brute, Guthethya. Ask her what happened to the Intican Clan when they refused to submit to 'civilized' kingdoms. Ask her who provided the fire-lances and barrier-piercing bolts to the mercenaries who did the work. We in the Crimson Sun understand... some bloodlines are too dangerous to leave to their own devices. Better to control them. Break them. Use them."
He looked past her, towards the hall where Erdan had been taken. "Your new master... he's kinder, isn't he? Pathetic. But it doesn't matter. When he learns what you are… what your ancestors did, what your clan was born from, he'll see you as we do. A monster, bound by a leash. And he'll either tighten the collar... or put you down."
The words hung in the air. Behind her, with a final, gurgling roar, the Feaster dissolved into motes of blue light as Kurr's concentration shattered completely. The shadowy man stood panting over its fading form, then turned his glowing eyes to Mira, awaiting her next move.
A sigh left her mouth, one of profound uninterest. "So what? It is my duty to serve him well, so that he won't find me useless."
Kurr snorted, but a stomp on his hand wiped off the smug look off his face. "Remember this: An insult to my Master is an insult to me, and I won't let you get off easily."
He gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with contempt and fury, but his words were cut short once again with a kick so strong it knocked him unconscious, his body hitting the base of the giant statue before falling limp.
The acolytes flinched at the blow, some already backing away while others considered avenging their superior. But a sharp look from Mira was all it took for their resolve to crumble and join their fleeing comrades.
The shadowy man dissolved into a black goo on the ground, but what emerged from it surprised even Mira. Turning around, she saw the small, fluffy and familiar figure of Night, shaking the remaining liquid off his fur, then turning to her with a happy yip.
Mira stared at the spot where the shadow-man had been, then down at the wagging black wolf. Her shoulder ached, her mind buzzed with Kurr's words, and now the hero's familiar was dripping shadow-slime on the floor after apparently turning into a person.
She knelt down, reaching out to pat him with her good hand. "I thought it was weird that I couldn't read you. You didn't have any thoughts to read."
Night just yipped again, nuzzling his cheek into her hand, leaving a faint, cool dampness on her skin. Her duty snapped back into focus, clearer than any ancestral bloodline.
"Do you know where he is?" she said, her voice flat again. Night gave an eager little bounce, turning to face one of the dark hallways leading away from the chamber, his nose twitching.
"Lead the way."