"I curse you forever in name. I bless you forever in death."
Those words had anchored themselves in Gunlaug's mind since the moment he unearthed the first tablet.
It felt as though a lifetime had passed since that discovery, and even longer since he had challenged the Dark Sea a second time in a desperate search for answers.
In the beginning, Gunlaug had been driven by a fervor that far surpassed his peers. His desire to escape the Forgotten Shore was absolute, and his will was an unyielding blade. That hunger for freedom had only intensified when he stumbled upon the remains of the dying golden Corrupted Devil.
He was invincible then. Yet, as the years marched on, he reached the bitter realization that he could never hope to challenge the Crimson Spire.
And the Dark Sea by then was not merely a barrier; it was a grave. Too many Corrupted Leviathans patrolled its depths, and too many hidden threats lurked beneath the surface, waiting for a reason to rise.
There was a time when Gunlaug, draped in his golden armor, was nearly fearless. But the tablets — the secret, jagged messages scattered across the shores and buried deep within the waters surrounding the Bright Castle — had taught him a different lesson.
They did not teach him to fear the monsters of the present. They taught him to fear the ghosts of the past.
He had read the history of Constellia. He had mapped the fragmented tales of a certain fallen star.
Now, sitting before a small, hollowed-out gathering, he spoke with an uncharacteristic earnestness.
His golden hair had been trimmed to shoulder length and pulled back into a severe, functional style.
Beside him sat Gemma. The man's short brown hair was a wild mess, and his eyes were sunken, framed by deep circles of exhaustion.
As the possessor of an Aspect focused on self-regeneration, Gemma was always the first into the fray. He was a master of both the bow and the blade — the "Herald of Death" — but the toll was visible. He was the only one among them who felt truly whole.
Gunlaug looked toward the one who provided the essence of recovery, then back at his own hands.
Nephis, Changing Star, sat at the head of what remained of the Bright Castle. She was no longer just a prominent Sleeper; she was the commander of every living soul left on the Forgotten Shore.
She looked a ruin. Everyone in the room knew why, though no one dared to speak the name of the girl who had been lost.
But there was a more visceral reason for their shared misery. Despite the blessing of the white flames Nephis provided, that odious crimson energy from the Disaster still festered within Gunlaug's body. It was a lingering, parasitic presence that made every breath a labor and every movement a struggle.
He was not alone in this torment. Nephis herself moved with a sluggishness that spoke of the inner rot, and even Caster's usually liquid movements were jagged and forced.
The crimson light of the Disaster did not merely wound; it stayed, refusing to let the healing fire of the Changing Star close the gap between fading life and recovery.
Beside Nephis sat Effie, Kai, and Caster. Gunlaug had specifically requested the presence of the archer.
He and Kai had fought side by side during the desperate defense of the Castle many times. The man was the most skilled archer Gunlaug had ever seen, and he possessed a heart that remained untainted by the cruelty of this land.
In that regard, Kai was a far better man than Gunlaug could ever hope to be.
They were safe for the moment, tucked away in the catacombs. The skeletons had been cleared out, dumped into a cavern to rot until the Fallen Tyrant returned to claim them.
Then there was Effie — now known as Athena — the primary muscle of the survivors, and Caster…
Caster was undeniably among the five strongest Sleepers remaining. His blade was lethal, though his Flaw remained a heavy burden. He was forced to rely on the charm around his neck to reverse the acceleration of his existence, a process that was far from swift. This forced him to remain on the periphery whenever Nightmare Creatures breached their temporary sanctuary, his body still battling the crimson pulse that made his high-speed maneuvers an agonizing trial.
But the most pressing concern was the girl with the grey eyes.
Nephis's hair was unkempt, stained with the black ichor of an abomination. Her eyes, once lit with the white sparks of her conviction, were now two windows into a dark, empty void. They held no vibrant life any longer.
She wore a new Memory. It was a structured white jacket and trousers, sharp and asymmetrical. One sleeve was smooth, while the other was threaded with a web of hairline cracks in red, as if her very skin were fracturing under the surface.
It was a stunning, regal garment, and under any other circumstance, Gunlaug would have made a charismatic joke about her beauty.
But something inside Nephis had died with the late Lady Cassia. Gunlaug did not know how to revive that spark.
It was not his responsibility, nor did he truly care to play the part of a savior, but it was a tragedy to see such a warrior reduced to such a hollow state.
She ate only when Kai or Effie forced her.
She had not spoken a word that wasn't a tactical command.
She was a wayfarer with no destination remaining but her own death.
However, the time for silence had reached its limit. They had to speak, even if it must interrupt her grief.
Gunlaug leaned forward, the casual ease of a warlord replaced by a grim, focused energy.
Today was a day of particular significance to him, though none of the others could know why. It was the anniversary of the day he had unearthed the first tablet — the day his understanding of the Forgotten Shore had begun to distort.
He reached into his mental archives, pulling forth the contents of the five tablets he had discovered over his years of rule. Most were broken, the stone scarred by the passage of centuries, but he had pieced them together into a fragile, haunting narrative.
He had once intended to keep the history of Constellia to himself, but the arrival of the four Disasters had stripped him of that luxury.
If they were to survive, they had to understand the nature of the beings that now walked the halls of the past. The Disasters predated the seven heroes of their own age by centuries. They were echoes of a time when the world was both more beautiful and far more terrible.
Gunlaug cleared his throat, his voice carrying through the damp air of the catacombs.
He did not read from stone, for the tablets were long destroyed; he spoke from the notes he had recorded in his own memory.
"The writer of these words left no name," Gunlaug began, his gaze sweeping over the group.
"He was a brother of the congregation, a member of the Church of the Mother of Mothers before the rot of madness claimed their leader and every soul within Constellia. You must listen with caution. The author himself had succumbed to the whims of what he called the 'Miracle.' His heart was heavy with the sins of his forebearers. He wrote of walking in the echoes of dawn, praying for the light to carry his people toward a dream that had already become a nightmare."
He paused, his voice lowering as he recited the first fragment.
"'It wasn't long before the suffering became a black tide. Families, the elderly, even the newborns — they flooded the church walls, their skin marked by a sorrow we could not name. 'We brothers of the congregation were helpless. Our ointments were water; our prayers were silence. We were submerged in the darkness of uncertainty.'"
Gunlaug shifted his weight, his eyes darkening as he moved to the second part of the tale.
"'O King, O King… where have you gone? Does your son not need you, lest he be set astray? What of your wife and daughter? The King of Constellia had vanished, leaving his people to a fate without a shepherd. The illness reached the Shore without warning — it was the outbreak and the punishment of the Miracle. A young man arrived at our doors, trembling with a fear so deep it could not be measured. He wondered what unforgivable sin he had committed to receive such a condemnation.'"
He looked at Nephis, but her gaze remained fixed on the dust at her feet. He continued anyway, reciting the final, desperate plea of a dying civilization.
"'What could we do? We were a crowd of plain, profane healers, blind to the vague wills of the Miracle. O King, Regulus, O little king, we needed you still. We asked what sacrifice would be required for our prayers to be heard. We were all at the mercy of the Miracle — the young man, the healers, and every soul left within the walls.'"
The hall fell into a heavy silence as Gunlaug finished.
Effie's brow was furrowed in confusion at the abrupt end of the tale, while Kai remained deep in thought, his fingers tracing the string of his bow.
Nephis… Nephis remained a statue.
Gunlaug wished Seishan were present; her insight was often the whetstone to his blade.
But she was occupied with the Handmaidens, maintaining the order of the survivors.
It was Caster who finally broke the tension. His green eyes were sharp as they locked onto Gunlaug's.
"So, to summarize the most critical parts of the information you gathered over the years, something of great origin caused the people of Constellia to go mad."
Caster's voice remained clinical, devoid of the dread that had permeated the earlier story.
"More than once, the writer referred to the presence as the 'Miracle.' Some higher instrument or god-like figure that blessed and cursed according to its own whims. If we assume this figure had its own motives, then we have two choices. Either the Miracle punished the citizens for a sin against it..."
He paused, glancing at Gemma.
"No, I'm probably wrong. Although, it also seems as if this Miracle possessed a will of its own, based on the vocabulary the writer chose. The term 'whims' implies a specific kind of volatility. And yet, the writer never referred to the Miracle directly as a person. It is curious. Was it a form of some grand unconscious? Perhaps even a creation that only possessed a number of..."
Caster trailed off, the conclusion escaping him. Kai joined the conversation, his voice carrying a nervous, forced lightness.
"Do you have anything else? I am sorry, but I do not really know what to make of this."
Kai chuckled, the sound brittle in the damp air of the catacombs.
Gemma reached into a satchel and produced a wrapped bundle of treated hide — a necessary substitute for paper. He unfurled it, reading the notes he had recorded years prior.
"Well, there is little else beyond the murals we managed to uncover. I must emphasize that what I am about to describe is a mere interpretation of what Gunlaug and I witnessed. It was odd. The Nightmare Spell is typically reliable in translating foreign scripts within the Dream Realm. However, when we found that, the text remained untranslated. We were forced to rely solely on the images."
Gemma passed the hide to Kai. Caster and Effie moved closer, looming over his shoulder to see. Gunlaug noticed Nephis's reaction rather quickly; her eyes snapped to the page, analyzed the ink of the sketch in a heartbeat, and then returned to the dust on the floor.
A flicker of relief touched Gunlaug. She was not entirely lost yet.
The expressions of Kai, Caster, and Effie shifted in unison as they processed the depiction on the hide.
The sketch showed the face of a beautiful young woman. She was mid-gesture, pouring a stream of dense, liquid substance over her own face. Figures stood in a circle around her, their faces etched in a fervor that looked like madness. The woman herself appeared to be crying in agony, yet the lines Gemma had drawn made it clear she was in a state of deep repentance.
Kai read the description aloud, his voice steady.
"It is unknown how vital this woman was to the kingdom of Constellia. However, she was clearly recognized as a Saint — not a Transcendent, but a high-ranking figure within the Church of the Mother of Mothers. She possessed a beautiful face and chose to pour boiling oil upon herself as a response to those who worshiped her as a living image of divinity. The woman did not wish to be worshiped, yet the people persisted regardless."
Effie squinted, her eyes tracing the lower half of the notes.
"However, despite her desire to be ignored, the 'Miracle' intervened. As the years passed and she began to show the natural signs of aging, the burn remained as fresh as the moment the liquid first touched her skin. The wound was... on fire? Smoking? The writer noted it was difficult to discern. The one certainty is that this was understood to be a Miracle. She was worshiped even more fervently after the scarring. Her actions did nothing to stop the people. They only amplified the fervor."
The three of them looked up, their faces reflecting a shared confusion.
"I do not understand. Is this just another story depicting the Miracle's influence on the people of Constellia?"
Gunlaug let out a short, hollow chuckle.
"Well... yes, in a sense. But look at the image Gemma painted once more. Does the liquid not remind you of anything?"
They squinted at the drawing again. Seconds stretched into a long, heavy silence. Eventually, all three shook their heads and looked back at him.
…Then they froze.
Nephis was no longer sitting. She had risen with a quick, fluid motion and was now peering under Effie's shoulder. She took the hide from Kai's hand; he relinquished it without a word. Nephis looked at the drawing for a moment, then turned her grey gaze toward Gunlaug.
"The liquid depicted by Gemma is flowing unnaturally. The description reminds me of a tale I read with my… my sister. This burning liquid is clearly gold, though. It is the same substance, or something remarkably similar, to the gold transcendent Echo you obtained years ago. Isn't it?"
The trio's eyes widened as the realization struck. Gunlaug snapped his fingers in delight and smiled.
"Indeed! It appears you still possess your wits. The murals depicted boiling gold. The woman spilled it on her face to become ugly and horrific, but the Miracle fixed the golden mask upon her forever. I still do not know if the people went mad because of the Miracle, or if the Miracle was born of their madness."
Gunlaug paused, his gaze growing distant.
"The Nightmare Spell gave my Echo a name: 'Dreamlike Charred Visage.' The description spoke of a villager named Áurea. Her face was so beautiful that sculptors used her as a model for every divine statue. Little by little, the people replaced the images of their gods with her likeness. She could not bear the blasphemy. She burned her face with boiling oil to gift her beauty to God and took up the habit of a convent."
Gunlaug's voice carried a rasping quality. He adjusted his focus, drawing from the depths of his memory.
"The girl Áurea aged as any mortal woman would, but the golden fire of her wound remained eternally fresh. The soot and the searing heat never departed from her skin. Within the Church, they witnessed that smoking, blackened ruin and proclaimed it a sign of divine favor. They canonized her while she still drew breath, naming her 'Our Lady of the Charred Visage'! In her name, an order was founded. Every seeker of the habit was compelled to gift their own beauty to the Miracle, pouring boiling gold over their features just as Áurea had. Now, she conceals that eternal torment beneath gauze and a golden mask. It is a striking tale of devotion, isn't it?"
Nephis stood in the gloom, her frame vibrating with a subtle, rhythmic shudder. The crimson energy of the Silver Wing acted as a persistent fever within her soul. Each time she utilized her white flames to stall the rot in Gunlaug or Caster, the infection within her flared with a jagged, spiteful intensity.
She looked toward the golden haired man, her grey eyes hollow.
"Is this the entirety of what was recovered?"
Gunlaug placed a hand to his chin, his brow furrowing as he weighed the fragmented records against the presence of the Disasters.
"No, not entirely. If you possess an interest in my own contemplations on the matter, I could share them."
Nephis gave a stiff, pained nod. The others sat back upon the cold dirt of the catacombs, their shadows stretching like long, distorted limbs against the uneven walls.
The crimson essence within Nephis made every inhalation a labor. This was not a simple sickness of the flesh, but a spiritual corruption that defied the healing nature of her flame.
Gunlaug cleared his throat and continued.
"I do not believe that Fallen Star simply brought the curse of darkness. My theory is that it struck Constellia and manifested as the very thing they termed the 'Miracle.' It was a higher existence, something far beyond the comprehension of a Sleeper. Struck down in its prime, it birthed the Miracle as a final, desperate act of will."
Nephis tilted her head slightly, her gaze appearing dull and far away.
"But why would a Divine existence choose a manifestation that both blessed and cursed its subjects? If a god were to perish, would it not simply curse the world in a fit of revenge?"
Effie and Kai shifted, their expressions reflecting the weight of her logic. However, Caster remained composed, his green eyes reflecting a cold, analytical light.
"It is a mistake to project human spite onto a God. Perhaps the blessings and the curses were one and the same in the eyes of the Miracle. Or perhaps the people became so lost in their fervor that they could no longer distinguish between the two. One thing is certain, though: this 'Miracle' was a tangible force. It could be touched. And since it had a consciousness, it could be manipulated.. I think."
"'Manipulated'? On what basis do you make such a claim?"
Caster gestured vaguely toward the images Gemma had recorded, his movements fluid despite the lingering rot in his system.
"Consider the tablets and murals Gunlaug and Gemma recovered. They spoke of the four Disasters being born when the city fell, yet those figures likely took shape while the Miracle was still active. Recall the vision Cassia shared with you. She witnessed two crowned figures. One held a blade wrapped in crimson, prepared to strike, only to be cut down by the very 'Crimson Light' we faced at the Castle."
He lifted a second finger, his voice remaining smooth.
"The second crowned figure held no steel. He was kneeling, muttering words that escaped Cassia's ears. Then, he devoured the wing and transformed into an abomination. It is not difficult to infer which being that is now—"
Nephis closed her eyes for a long moment, her breath hitching as the fever within her surged. She cut Caster off without any warning.
"None of this information provides a path forward. Not unless more is uncovered. The meeting was useful, but I must take my leave."
She suddenly rose and began to depart, her steps uneven as she stumbled once before finding her balance. The group watched her retreat into the tunnels in a somber, heavy silence.
Gunlaug let out a frustrated hiss and ran a hand through his hair. Gemma merely shrugged, his expression one of helpless pity.
"Everyone processes grief in their own manner, Gunlaug. Give her time."
Gunlaug shook his head, staring at the dark tunnel where the Changing Star had vanished.
"She is going to find her death if she continues in this state. So I'm sorry, but fuck giving her 'time.'"
—
Nephis navigated the dark, winding tunnels of the catacombs, her movements almost mechanical. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the unwashed press of humanity.
Two-thirds of the survivors from across the Forgotten Shore were now crammed into these subterranean passages, their lives reduced to a desperate struggle for breath and bread.
As she passed the clusters of huddling Sleepers, a wave of voices rose to meet her.
"Changing Star!"
"Blessings to you, my lady!"
They waved with desperate, reaching smiles, their eyes shimmering with a hope that felt far too heavy upon her. Nephis looked at them, and a bitter, hollow sensation settled in her gut.
During her brief time among them, she had moved like a whirlwind, elevating their standards of living and standing as a bulwark against the relentless influx of Nightmare Creatures. She had suffered the agonizing white fire of her aspect to keep their hearts beating.
In their eyes, she was a savior.
In her own, she was a ruin.
She had fought beside Gunlaug at the Bright Castle because it was the most efficient choice for survival.
Now that Gunlaug's golden Echo was nothing but scattered light and broken shards, she stood as the most formidable Sleeper on the shore.
She had stopped concealing the Transcendent Memories she had brought from the waking world — gifts intended for the daughters of Ki Song. She had even handed Seishan the Memories that were rightfully hers.
Now, she utilized a Transcendent weapon of the Seventh Tier, a charm that boosted her combat prowess, and a talent for leadership that drove the others toward a future they could not see.
Yet, as they looked at her with such adoration, a dark impulse flickered in her mind.
She wanted to rip those smiles off their faces. She wanted to wipe the painted image of the "Changing Star" from their thoughts until they saw the horror beneath.
After all, was she not the Star of Ruin?
The thought of their collective sacrifice rarely left her. She had told Sunny once that she would spend every one of them to reach her goal.
That conviction had never felt more visceral. She felt she deserved the loss of Sunny. She felt she deserved the blood of Cassie on her hands. Her ruinous change had brought nothing but death and loss.
She moved past them without a word. She caught Seishan's gaze for a fleeting second, receiving a weary, bitter smile in return.
Seishan was family, bound by the same tragic lineage of the Great Clans, yet even that connection felt distant.
Near the center of the camp, she passed the vendor stall managed by Stev and Aiko. They were busy organizing the memories they used to have on sale by at the Bright Castle.
Stev, a man whose physical presence was as large as his voice, was currently grumbling to Aiko about a peculiar incident in his Soul Sea. A single memory — a set of broken armor covered in illegible runes — had vanished entirely. The Spell had offered a cryptic explanation that none of them could parse.
[Your Memory has been overwritten.]
Stev shook his head, dismissing the loss of a broken item, unaware of the structural shift it implied.
Nephis reached the edge of the catacombs where the tunnels opened into the harsh brilliance of the nameless sun. She summoned her weapon and charm just as Tessai approached, his laughter echoing against the stone walls.
"It is good to see you, Changing Star! Are you joining the hunt today?"
Nephis offered a solitary, sharp nod. Tessai did not seem to mind her silence; he simply summoned his twin Ascended axes and signaled the twelve Sleepers under his command. They were going out for blood, memories, and meat.
Nephis felt the familiar weight of her gear manifest.
Memory: [Sanguine Verse]
Memory Rank: Transcendent.
Memory Tier: VII.
Memory Type: Weapon.
Memory Description: [The Sixth War left the fields barren and the air thick with the smell of blood. Ravensong strode through the silent ruins, gathering the broken dreams of those who perished. She wove a weapon from the echoes of their longing. It was a blade of wishes born under the silent moonlight.]
Memory: [Moonlit Hunt]
Memory Rank: Transcendent
Memory Tier: VI
Memory Type: Charm
Memory Description:[An ancient gem was once submerged in a well of primal essence until it turned the color of crimson. Every drop of blood spilled in its presence is absorbed into the pores of the rock, turning the stone into a heavy, warm anchor of life.]
The charm pulsed against her chest, providing a formidable defense against elemental afflictions while augmenting her strength based on the blood she shed. It was a perfect, gruesome fit for her Aspect.
The blade was a darker mystery; it inflicted deep, weeping wounds and virulent poisons, yet its deeper enchantments remained obscured, even from the Spell itself.
Nephis looked up at Tessai, her eyes betraying a heavy, lingering fatigue as she offered a solitary nod.
"Very well then. How long will we be out of the catacombs for this hunt?"
Before Tessai could voice a response, both he and Nephis turned toward the sound of hurried footsteps echoing against the stone. Kai and Gemma emerged from the dimness of the tunnel, their expressions somber.
It did not take long for Nephis to deduce why the others had remained behind.
Seishan presided as the leader of the handmaidens, her presence vital for the logistics of the camp. Between herself and Gunlaug, she served as the primary defense against any Fallen Nightmare Creatures that dared approach the threshold.
Gunlaug himself remained afflicted by the crimson blight. The corrupted essence interfered with the efficacy of the white flames and had rendered his natural dormant regeneration nearly stagnant. He had not joined a hunt in a significant amount of time, his body still laboring from the blow he took to shield Caster and Nephis from the Disaster.
Caster occupied a similar state of jagged recovery. His wounds mended with an agonizing sluggishness, though he faced a separate dilemma in his Aspect's flaw. The charm he wore was slowly reversing the unnatural acceleration of his years, but he still possessed the appearance of a man in his late thirties.
He believes that once he returns to his true age, the blight would finally be purged, and his peak condition would be restored.
Effie, the most formidable muscle of the remaining Sleepers, was forced to remain within the catacombs as their final shield. Most defenses would have crumbled into ruin without her standing at the center of the fray.
Kai and Gemma were a different matter.
Gemma's dormant ability for self-regeneration allowed him to take risks that would kill others, making him an invaluable leader for the hunting parties.
Kai, meanwhile, found the cramped tunnels of the catacombs ill-suited for his ability to fly. His mobility was useless underground, so he participated in these sorties frequently. He had recently even obtained an Ascended bow after felling a Fallen Demon at Nephis's side, a victory only secured because Seishan had intervened in the final moment.
The battle had nearly claimed both women, but they had lived.
Nephis let out a soft sigh, forcing a pale, diplomatic smile onto her face for the new arrivals.
"It is a welcome sight to see you two. This hunt will be easier with your presence."
Kai looked at her, his voice dropping into a low, concerned register.
"…Yes. It will."
Gemma remained silent. The gloomy aura radiating from Nephis was a heavy thing that made positive emotion feel so very shallow.
Tessai clanged his two Ascended axes together, the sound ringing sharply through the air.
"Alright then! If everyone is prepared, let us head out! We are tracking a Fallen Monster and a cluster of mid-ranked Awakened. Two of the Demon class, one Devil, and four Monsters. A fine haul if we manage it."
Tessai pointed one of his axes toward Nephis.
"I take it you wish to face the Fallen? Who will stand with you?"
Nephis paused for a moment, her voice gaining a sharp, confident edge.
"Kai will be in the air, providing support for both fronts. I will take Gemma and three of your men. You will not require all twelve for the Awakened, will you?"
Tessai shrugged, a nonchalant expression crossing his weathered face.
"That depends on how the blood is spilled. If we find the Fallen first, you will take charge of that engagement. However, if we stumble into the Awakened first, we will rely on your flames and Kai's bow to finish them quickly. Otherwise, we will not last long! Hahaha!"
Kai did not look pleased at the casual mention of their mortality, while Gemma had long since become accustomed to Tessai's crude antics. The man let out a tired, long-suffering sigh.
"Let's just move out, okay? I have no desire to be under that nameless sun longer than necessary. Kido is waiting for me, you know!?"
Tessai raised a brow as the group turned toward the exit, their boots crunching on the dry earth.
"Oh yes, because getting some play is—"
"Choose your next words extremely carefully, bastard. They just might be your last."
"Hey now, I was merely joking!"
Kai suppressed the urge to laugh at their bickering, while the twelve Sleepers looked away, hiding their own amusement to avoid catching Gemma's ire.
However, before they crossed the threshold into the light, Nephis felt a firm hand settle on her shoulder. She stopped and looked at Kai, whose eyes were wide with a concern he could not hide.
"Nephis… I know I ask this quite often, but do you need someone to talk to?"
Kai spoke knowing the question would likely be dismissed. It was simply his nature; he could not bear to see a friend in such a sorrowful state without offering a hand.
Nephis shook her head, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she offered a response that had become a script.
"Of course not. I am fine, am I not? Why would I need to talk to anyone?"
A heavy, sudden silence fell over the group at her words. Tessai, Gemma, and the Sleepers stopped their bickering in an instant.
Every person present shared a singular, dark thought.
'You haven't been alright in a long while.'
—
Twenty minutes had elapsed since the group departed from the safety of the catacombs. They traversed the shattered ruins of the city at a steady jog, their breathing synchronized.
Tessai's intention was clear. He sought to locate either the solitary Fallen or the cluster of Awakened quickly. Confronting them as a unified force was the only logical strategy; they could focus their collective strength on one objective before moving to the next.
However, after twenty minutes of searching, the ruins remained disturbingly quiet. Tessai signaled for the group to slow their pace. They began to walk, maintaining a strict watch on the jagged silhouettes of the surrounding buildings while engaging in low, hushed conversation.
Kai descended from the air and hurried his steps to catch up with Nephis. He glanced at Gemma, who was occupied with one of the Sleepers, and offered Nephis a small smile.
"How are you holding up?"
The white-haired girl looked toward him, her expression shifting into a mask of friendly composure.
"I am fine, for the most part. We have not encountered a single creature of note. Does that not strike you as peculiar?"
Kai frowned for a fleeting second. He recognized the deflection. He was acutely aware that he was not the most capable source of emotional support. That particular duty usually fell to Seishan, who possessed a rare talent for piercing Nephis's emotional wall.
In the beginning, Nephis had been submerged in a depression so deep it bordered on catatonia. She had refused sustenance and spent hours in solitary silence. Kai had even witnessed her scratching at her own skin until it bled, only to heal the wounds with her white flames and endure the subsequent agony for no discernible reason.
Distraught, Kai had sought out Seishan. He wasn't certain what the woman had whispered to Nephis behind closed doors, and he did not care to ask. It was enough that a small, fractured spark of life had returned to his friend's eyes.
Still, unable to address the grief she guarded so fiercely, he directed his attention back to the hunt.
"You're right. We have encountered no abominations despite the reports from the scouts. Do you believe they have already abandoned this territory?"
Nephis shook her head, her gaze sweeping the rubble.
"They would not. Nightmare Creatures do not pass up the opportunity to assault such a concentrated group of humans. I feel an increasing unease at the lack of a trail. Just what is happening?"
She fell into a deep, brooding silence. It appeared that the only time she wasn't burdened by her own thoughts was when she was anticipating a battle.
Kai looked toward the front of the line and raised his voice, calling out to Tessai and Gemma.
"Tessai! Gemma! A moment of your time!"
Tessai's rough voice barked back from the head of the group.
"Come to us! You are the one lagging behind! Catch up!"
Kai grumbled under his breath but quickened his stride, Nephis following close behind. As they reached the front, Tessai tilted his head toward them, a grin visible through his thick beard.
"What is it, Kai? Has the silence finally made you jumpy?"
Kai gave a somber nod.
"Does it not seem odd? In any previous hunt, we would have fought at least a few monsters by now. I do not like the feel of this air."
Nephis voiced her own conclusion.
"There is no possibility that we have traveled this far without a confrontation. Either a more powerful Nightmare Creature has slaughtered the Awakened cluster, or they have fled from a presence far more harrowing than themselves."
Gemma placed a hand to his chin, his expression turning grim.
"You both make a fair point. I suspect we are all entertaining the same suspicion. Our luck is rarely favorable, so let us assume a stronger abomination is prowling the ruins. Everyone! Maintain a total vigil!"
The hushed talk died instantly. The Sleepers focused entirely on the environment, weapons held in tight, ready grips.
Nephis considered the variables. What manner of creature would be powerful enough to displace a Fallen Monster and a group of Awakened? A Fallen Devil? Perhaps a Tyrant or even a Terror? Lower-class creatures possessed little intelligence, yet even they knew when to flee a superior predator.
The group marched on. Time stretched, the sun beating down on the vined stone of the ruins.
Eventually, they stumbled upon a… scene of devastation.
—
Seventeen minutes later, Kai was gliding above, his eyes scanning for abnormalities. He spotted something in the far distance — a flicker of motion against the glare of the sun. He narrowed his eyes, shielding them with a hand.
He saw the conclusion before the cause was clear.
In one heart-stopping moment, he witnessed a large Nightmare Creature being hurled through the sky as if it were a mere stone.
In the next, a figure — incredibly small from this distance — leapt into the air twice as high to reach the beast.
The figure swung a weapon with a speed that defied the eye. A fountain of blackened ichor erupted against the blue sky, followed instantly by a massive, thundering shockwave.
The force of the blast hit Kai like a physical wall, knocking him out of the air.
On the ground, Tessai, Gemma, and Nephis braced themselves as the rumble reached them, the air vibrating with a violent pressure. The Sleepers stumbled as the earth beneath their boots groaned and shook.
"What the hell was that?!"
"Is something finally attacking?!"
"Hold steady!"
They moved quickly from their exposed position, shifting into the surrounding rubble. In the air, Kai regained his bearing, spiraling upward to reclaim his vantage point.
His voice carried a raw, frantic edge as he shouted down.
"It's to the north and closing in — prepare yourselves!"
Gemma let out a tired, jagged breath, his face drained of color.
"Why! Why am I always right?! Why did I have to open my mouth?! We are facing something far beyond a Fallen Monster now! Dammit, Tessai! Why do your sorties never go according to plan?!"
Tessai merely laughed, his rough voice booming with a dark, thrill-seeking energy.
"Would that not be boring? Come now! We are in for a bit of entertainment!"
He clanged his two Ascended axes together, turning his lethal focus toward the north. The Sleepers drew their steel, the presence of the Changing Star serving as an anchor for their fragile spirits.
Yet, Gemma looked at Nephis and felt a cold lump of dread settle in his stomach.
She was… trembling.
Her grip on her Sanguine Verse faltered for a heartbeat before she tightened it with a white-knuckled intensity. She assumed a proper stance, pointing her blade toward the approaching threat, but her breathing had accelerated into a ragged, shallow rhythm.
Gemma moved to her side, his voice low.
"Nephis? What is it? What are you sensing?"
It took a moment for her to regulate her voice. When she spoke, it was with a tone he had never heard from her — a sound of genuine, visceral fear.
"It is... the presence. This aura is far too immense. It is too piercing, too suffocatingly dark. I have only felt this specific sensation once before."
Gemma let out a sharp, whispered curse. The only time Nephis had encountered such profound terror was in the presence of the Southern Disaster.
Tessai's smile vanished, replaced by a hard, tactical grimace.
"Should we retreat? I came prepared for a Fallen Monster. If this is a Devil or a Tyrant, we require the full force to stand a chance."
Nephis shook her head with a slowly.
"At this pace, it would be futile. We don't know its proximity, nor—"
Kai's voice shattered the discussion.
"It is a single human-sized creature! It is moving with incredible speed! Get ready!"
The dialogue ceased instantly. A violent shockwave erupted from the ruins just meters ahead, the air pressure spiking until it hurt their ears. Large fragments of stone were hurled toward them, the debris acting as a lethal curtain.
Nephis and Gemma moved in a blur, their blades humming as they reduced the incoming rocks to dust.
The Sleepers shielded their eyes, their hearts hammering against their ribs.
Then, there were footsteps.
The sound was deliberate, heavy, and calm. Because the surrounding ruins had been pulverized by the initial shockwave, nothing remained to conceal the approaching entity except for thick, tangled vines.
As the creature stepped through the greenery, Gemma's sword nearly slipped from his grasp. He stumbled, his skin turning a sickly, ashen pale.
"Fuck…"
Nephis remained rooted, her grey eyes locked onto the figure.
The being was undeniably human in shape. It was a soldier outfitted in tarnished silver armor. Its body, the plate, and the weapon it carried were all wrapped in tattered crimson bandages that fluttered in the wind. The weapon itself was a massive aspergillum — a heavy, brutal mace that looked capable of shattering mountains.
A thick, ceramic-like metal helm concealed its face, leaving only a cold, impassive visor. It radiated the undeniable authority of a commander on a slaughter-field.
Nephis spoke, her voice carrying a thin, desperate edge of curiosity.
"A human turned Nightmare Creature? The fact that it retained its shape implies a soul strong enough to resist total distortion. This will not be a simple fight at all."
Gemma let out a hollow, hysterical laugh, his weapon shaking in his hands.
"Not simple? Lady Nephis, we're all done for."
The statement sent a wave of cold through the Sleepers. Kai, high above, could not hear the words, centered instead on tracking the creature's trajectory.
Nephis did not shift her gaze.
"Gemma? What is this thing? What are we standing against?"
Gemma's voice was a shaking whisper.
"…D-Do you not recall the records of the great abominations we could not accurately? Standing before us is a member of The Anointed Legion. A relic of Constellia…"
The soldier shifted, lifting its aspergillum as it entered a battle stance.
"It is a Disaster. The Disaster of the North… We are fighting a Disaster!"
In the next heartbeat, the creature vanished.
Nephis reacted with a feral speed, shoving Gemma aside as a great shadow eclipsed the sun. The Disaster reappeared in mid-air, its great mace sweeping down in a vivid, lethal arc. Nephis raised her dark red blade to intercept the strike.
The impact was cataclysmic. Her bone arm shattered, the sound of breaking ivory lost in the roar of the collision. She had not activated her Aspect in time to buffer the force.
As the earth cracked beneath her, Nephis understood a single thing.
Today, perhaps, was the day she died.