"Hmm," Layna Kasio nodded as her darling son spoke aloud his attempts to rationalize this apparent 'paradox' standing in front of him.

She decided to match him, point by point. Perhaps by doing that, she felt it would help connect her to him better for understanding her situation. But since time was of the essence, proper word choice would be paramount to keeping her explanation precise.

"No, it was me. I was just... in a deep demonic sleep, nearly identical to death," Layna explained carefully, trying to take his hands into hers.

"And I've been away on a... different world, with the one who saved me," she continued, her voice straining to remain uncracked, "and as much as I regret it, my son, I was unable to leave until the proper time... time..."

She dwelled on the word. "So many years have passed, yet I don't feel a day older than my 'funeral'..."

Layna looked up at Mairyell, pushing up her brow, "Please forgive me for my weakness, Mai... and we will deal with 'him.' I promise."

She leaned up on him, standing on her tippy toes, and attempted to kiss him on his cheek. Although she knew that something had happened to her daughter, she felt that now was not to time to ask him about it. In fact, she would let him tell her on his own terms when he was ready. They needed to leave Loom soon. She just hoped Poe was nearly finished up there, convincing Julian and Mary to trust him for their exit; the latter whom her lord said especially needed to survive.

---

Aulder was fucked, as an unknown but derpingly gorgeous seeress recently opinionated. And he knew it. Still, this was not supposed to end in victory anyway, but just stall his lord's enemies until the sword could find a worthy user. Through his Iotan link, he could tell that it was now in some Lucien's hands and his lord had just left, leaving a strong impression upon him to do the same.

Not that he had much choice. This 'Old One' was a tough cookie, Aulder knew. His very essence had been warped, temporarily, but was certainly effective. His liquid fire, no longer able to consume shadow and darkness, vanished into his tea cup. With now nothing holding him up, Aulder closed his eyes, putting trust in the one his lord advised him to.

The old man fell, soon to impact the ground perhaps. But his faith was well placed, and in less than a few seconds, the Reclaimer had 'come out of his body' and caught him, holding him up by her arms. Strangely enough, she appeared to be in two areas at once: where Aulder had fallen just now, still several yards in the air in front of Szayeis, and then back where she was hovering several yards above Lucien and Ilana. A moment later, Aulder vanished into a dividing blue rectangle of tiny cubes, and so did the 'Reclaimer' duplicate who had caught him.

It was in that moment, however, that an event occurred in a special place exclusive to all Iotans: The Enigmatic Elsewhere.

Whilst all thoughts and emotions were, more or less, shared between Iotans wherever they may be, it was here that prominent meetings were initiated by the Empty Lord himself. It made for a more powerful experience shared between him and his followers, which was sometimes necessary to foster greater resonance between them and himself, but also strengthen their minds and Iotan growth. And as always, questions and concerns flooded the 'waves', but the Empty Lord quieted them, firmly and gently... and all listened.

"It appears to be a predicament," Ioi stated calmly, referring to the brief conflict between Aulder, Szayeis, and Him.

"But while the lodestars will not divine this fully, I know He is not in disharmony with my designs. For I have bent the lights and delved the shadows in between the information within our reality's foundation. He is only a large rock in the river that we swim in.

"He is not a foe that we wrestle against, but fate it·self, and we will not despair. For fate can be carved with our will a·lone, but our flesh and spirit will fall against it.

"We will focus on the carrier. Szayeis requires aid with keeping his priorities in order... so I am going to strengthen his resolve to subdue Him. He will remember that what he does have is worth more than what he wishes to obtain."

Ioi paused, letting his speech sink deeply into his followers' minds. As it did so, images of the coming conflict flooded before them.

"Thank you, Naerisidia," Ioi said, to which the newly converted clairvoyant nodded and smiled sadly in her mind.

"I will send the Reclaimer to subdue his kingdom and divert his attention from Lucien," Ioi declared, to which Ilana, even as she stood by Lucien's side, mentally confirmed.

In the middle of the Enigmatic Elsewhere, their collective minds interlinked, stood the Reclaimer. She waited for the order - the very precise order. Ioi had said he will... but now? She was eager to act, to please, to obey. The Reclaimer, as a person, was perpetually bored. So much action needed to be done, but she lacked the foresight of her lord and father. She knew this very well.

"Take them," Ioi ordered her, "all of them; Spare nobody and nothing; Leave not an iota of anything behind."

The Empty Lord had declared war on the Lord of Chaos.

---

Ilana met Lucien's little smile with one of her own, albeit it was her heart that probably skipped a beat and excited her nerves. She pulled a strand of blond out of her face and cleared her throat.

"Her," she said simply, pointing at the Reclaimer (the gray girl) above them.

Subtle admiration spread across Ilana's face, clearly visible to Lucien. But then it changed to surprise as the Reclaimer descended to the ground extremely fast, but then lightly stepped onto the ground, barely disturbing the dirt. She glanced between Ilana and Lucien, her face besmirched by boredom fading to a strange excitement. Her gray composition also seemed to be producing its own light, for neither darkness or light could conceal her. Yet strangely, if she did produce her own light, it did not illuminate the area around her. That was something Ilana was still trying to understand, but her lord's assurance of this creation of his (a daughter, oddly) was good enough for her.

And of course, she never spoke a word.

"She doesn't... talk," Ilana whispered to Lucien, her eyes still on the motionless Reclaimer, "but my lord has assured me that she will protect you without question... I mean, don't even worry about how--she's very precise, and will sync with your actions."

She was about to continue, but then the Reclaimer surface-pinned to the ground beneath them. It basically anchored her to the spot a few yards from the original angels. It also produced a very loud, but reversed sonic boom. Staring into space, she then proceeded to take off her right middle finger and then dropped it to the ground. It vanished before even touching the ground. She then glanced up at Lucien and Ilana for a moment, before turning her vigil towards Szayeis's general direction.

"She's... she's attacking Szayeis's kingdom, Lucien," Ilana whispered, looking at him wide-eyed, but trying to remain calm, "it's a ploy to force his attention away from you and..."

Her eyes fell to the sword that had once been his daughter...

Meanwhile... in Hell.

The part of the Reclaimer that was sent to Hell had arrived, specifically in an arid wasteland's edge a few miles from the Western region. The finger stood upright, moving in place as it expanded its many gray chain links to a larger size. In mere seconds, a second instance of the Reclaimer emerged, but no less potent than her full entirety. Her stoic gaze turned toward the kingdom... and she began walking in lieu of flying, counting down the time to her first attack wave that would be the herald of many to come.

It was not a good day to be a nightwalker in service of Szayeis.

Luciana

One moment, she was walking the streets of Loom, idly looking for something to end her boredom. Supernatural Keeper of the Balance she may be, but she also sometimes found herself needing something to do. And boy, did she find it. She had just exited a Mall after a long hour or so of window shopping(no money. And she couldn't very well take it from them without annoying repercussions, could she?), when three powerful Hellions entered the world. The Fleshshaper. The Lord of Chaos. Another whose personal Essence she was unfamiliar with, but whose overall type she was. Those Demons were supposed to have been wiped out by their fellows. Made extinct. They had threatened and challenged too many with their schemes and experiments, including her. The war had been short but very, very destructive and bloody. Regardless of the past, there was a large amount of Demons attacking Loom, two of her most hated enemies had arisen, and the Angels were retaliating. After firing a few bullets into a Demon that had leapt at her, Luciana grinned. I certainly won't be bored anymore!

With that, her form glowed a bright white and changed. In her human form's place stood the hulking form of her third one. Rather than causing all local Demons to flee in terror and fear, as she had hoped, it made her a beacon. The traitor was free. And challenging them. To kill her and consume her essence would not only grant them enough power to evolve substantially, but would certainly raise them in Szayeis's standards! And so, Demons from all around flocked to her location. And she met them, eagerly. With fire and sword. And every magical weapon at her disposal. For a while, things were fine. Demons were killed in a variety of painful ways. Yet still they came. Slowly but surely, she was being worn down. She couldn't keep this up forever. The Demons seemed to not heed the fact that they were being slain in droves, foolish for attacking her, yet they continued, each determined to be the one to slay her and consume her essence.

That's when it happened. A Gatekeeper reborn, The Essence entering the land. A semblance of balance was formed. Of course, just as this happened she heard the thrumming of a harp. With a cry of inarticulate rage at the timing, she threw herself upwards to the top of the nearest building. It was high enough to by her time. Enough to at least recover from what was to come. Even before her feet hit the roof the pain struck her and she instinctively switched back to her human form, curling in a ball and wrapping her arms around her head. It was different this time, though. With the pain of her migraine(to put it mildly), there were memories. Flashes of things that had happened before the Gate was destroyed, the Balance ruined.

She was walking through Heaven, unchallenged. There weren't even looks for being out of place. Why was that..? Wings. Angel Wings. Floating on her back. Where had those come from? She didn't possess any forms with Angel wings. She was going to meet her sister. Sister? She didn't have any sisters. The Old Gatekeeper of Heaven, smiling benignly at her. Wait. That was her sister? Impossible. She was a Demon. A warning given. War was coming. The Demons were restless and hostile. That rang a bell. She had warned the Gatekeeper of Heaven about the War. But she could have sworn it was in her human form. The Gatekeeper was still smiling at her. "There must always be balance, Sister. Remember that." What? Sister? These weren't her memories. Couldn't be. Two sisters being formed by the Gods, to guard the two Gates, to keep the races separate. Humans were formed. A third sister was needed, to bear the weight of the third world. Blood and tears from Heaven's Gatekeeper. Flesh and bone from Hell's. She was formed, made of two forms from Heaven. Two from Hell. And one in the middle. Where her sister's were stuck motionless, and could not move, she could. She could ensure the balance was kept. That they survived. She was Luciana, the Keeper of the Balance, Gatekeeper of the Human world and she would not fail.

And like that, the pain was gone. She rose, shakily to her feet. She wasn't a Demon. Nor was she an Angel. She was a far weaker version of the Gatekeepers. And Demons were coming for her. She could ponder the revelations her mind had hidden from her when the Imbalance struck later. Right now...she had the small matter of surviving to deal with. Two new forms had been given to her. Or, remembered by her. First she became a Battle Angel. Armored, proud and sword wielding. Then she became an Original. Her skills as a battle faded to essentially nothing but her skill other three rose. She was weaker than a true Original. But who wouldn't be, after not having used their powers in hundreds of thousands of years? Still, a small compartmentalized lightning storm rose above the building she was atop of. Luciana rose into the air, eyes shimmering with darkness and lightning white.

She didn't mean to, really. She only meant to get rid of her attackers then head to the storm as quickly as possible. But..she had misjudged the capacity of the storm to use her as much as she used it, and soon lost herself in it. Above the building, the storm raged and grew, lightning striking indiscriminately, thunder booming, and rain pouring down.

“DID YOU THINK I WOULD NOT NOTICE MELODY!”

“YOU RANCID WHORE!”

a charred corpse runs and prances naked throughout his domain. Screaming and chanting something unintelligible as flakes of his black and red skin fall to the ground. The screaming flame high above in the sky and subsided for a short while as Judas watched these events unfold before his glowing red eyes. He didn't care about the skirmish between the scum. Soon, he would start a war. And what he needed was on the surface.

He falls on his knees and between his ultimate shrieks of rage, bashes his head against the ground, over and over again. His scalp and forehead beginning to collapse and cave in on itself. He reaches his charred fingers into the wound and presses it against his now concave forehead until the disgusting sounds of his skull cracking gives out and his hand plunges deeper into his own horrid head wound.

He smiles and cries tears of blood and he slams his broken head against the ground one final time. This time, opening his mouth and grinding his few remaining teeth along the floor; flinching and convulsing as the teeth shattered and broke along the ground.

He stands up wearily as his skull pumps out a thick, poisonous bile from the wound and his mouth leaks blood. This awful substance, this never-ending essence floats up into the air and with the wave of his gnarled and broken hands, begins to rise higher and higher.

Then a glow begins to emit in the sky. The screams must begin once again. But this time, it will draw out the essence of the Damned, the essence that is infinite. A red malicious fog rises from the ground and wraps itself around Judas, loving him, nurturing him, feeding him. He whispers his honeyed words to his own essence. A sick perversion.

“I will bring dominance”

“I will bring truth”

“I will bring purity”

“I will bring Godliness”

His essence tickles his cheek lovingly as it begins to move rapidly to the Gate, a never ending stream of this hateful and ugly essence raises forth from the ground and heads to the Gate, where it will head to Loom. To end this once and for all. Judas lets out one final roar, this time one that is not wretched, lowly and secretive. But one that is curdled with a fury that no one shall ignore nor stand against

“AND I WILL BRING RIGHTEOUSNESS!”

And soon after those words. A screaming Flame emerges once again.

*

Three figures, three major players out in Loom. All waiting, vying for control.

And soon there would be a forth, and it's sickness, its rage, its sadness and it's monstrous intent could not be ignored. For in the midst of the chaos, the Angels and Demons battling it out and the remaining humans fleeing in terror, in the middle of all the carnage. It suddenly stopped, and they all felt it. This cancerous feeling of malice and murder drilling into their very minds. Invading the once place that should have been safe from everything.

And then the red pours out through the shadows and cracks of sidewalks and the crumbling buildings. The red, stringy fog rises out of the city and begins the process of taking it hostage. It's weight, it's presence almost crushing to all it would cross. Men and Women became prisoner to its power, and the Angels and Demons would soon follow. Battles stopped in mid swing as they simply stood, staring at each other as they attempted in vain to fight off the mental brainwashing that was taking place. The heathen scum belonged to him now, where they would serve as meat-shields. Their only true purpose.
But it was not satisfied with its accumulating army, it sped throughout the entire City which had now become a battlefield. It was looking for something, he was looking for something.

And within the battered city. A chilled echo was heard in the minds of its inhabitants.

“A Heretic shall bring forth Salvation on a Mountain of the purged”

Julian

Julian eyed the situation carefully. Too much was happening that he didn't really understand. Mairyell's mum or some other nonsense that was rather touching. And maybe he could have shed a happy tear or two if his forehead wasn't caked with sweat. His eyes hollow and his cheeks surprisingly gaunt. His hand was gripped around the sword handle tightly, and steam was beginning to roll off it. As if he heard something that for once, actually frightened him.

His shadow begins to flicker and attempt to morph into something else. But a flinch of Julian's shoulder keeps it at bay. His mind and that sword a portal to something truly horrible. A violent mental intrusion rams into his skull which causes him to gasp out and go down to the ground on one knee. His hand still grasping the sheathed sword.

He looks up at Poe and Mary, he knew something they didn't. For his eyes had a wildness and confusion in them that hadn't been seen in a very long time.

“W-we have to leave, right now.”

A red, volatile essence slowly seeped out of the sheathe. Before Julian's knuckles tightened and it retreated back into the blade. No If it wanted to play that way, it would have to take the traditional route.

Mary

Death. Death everywhere. She could feel it happening. Feel people dying all around her, Demons, and Angels. She could feel them at the exact moment of their deaths, and she could feel them being drawn to her. To the Abyss. There was one moment of sheer panic from each of them, and then they were gone. Silenced. Consumed. She didn't notice Poe's return, or the reunion around her. Her eyes were tightly shut, her hands clapsed around her knees, pressing them against her chest as if making herself a smaller target would stop them from coming to her. It didn't, of course, and they seemed to be never ending. She would have been rocking back and forth if she wasn't shaking so hard. Upon hearing Poe's voice, however, she opened her eyes to look at him through a sheen of tears. Before she could muster the will to speak, Julian spoke first. If she hadn't been already on the edge and slowly going over it, she would have been worried by his tone and the light seeping out of the sheathe. As it was, she only gave a small whimper and curled tighter against herself. "Yes. Please, get us away from here." She begged Poe in a miserable, pained voice. She could still hear them, feel them as they died and then were consumed. Their panic and their last words, or sounds in some cases, echoed in her head. She just wanted to be gone. Away. Free from this hell.

She squeezed her eyes shut once more and tried to block them out.

Poe

Poe listened carefully as Julian spoke, noting the strange twist of essence from his scabbard. Curious. But he had a mission to do from his lord and was not about to be distracted by ominous foreshadowing. Be that as it may, he focused on their emotions instead, espeically Mary. Poor lass. Sweatdrops beaded his forehead as he heard her pitiful cry, his heart rippling in place. He sighed, donning his hat.

"That is why I am here, my dear," he replied solemnly, "you see, my lord Ioi has returned just now, and he is quite a bit rattled by the chaos taking place here. He's done what he can to prevent certain demon lords from taking the Essence of the World..."

He trailed off... realizing he shouldn't be wasting time like that. "Apologies, let us go," he stated, bowing as he then turned to walk down the stairs.

At the end, however, he stopped and politely waited for Layna and Mairyell Kasio to finish their reunion. As hasty as things were going, he was still one to not interrupt a lady's business, especially hers.

Mairyell

The kiss landing safely, Mairyell's body twitched slightly at the contact, but he didn't react beyond a frown that had screwed itself on his face. How could so much happen in so little time? Shaking his head and glancing down at his mother, realizing just how much he had grown since he had last seen her, he hugged her, warmly and fully, letting for once his barriers fall. His eyes closed as he squeezed her gently, unsure if his strength might crush her if he wasn't careful. Finally after several seconds he withdrew, stepping away and glancing up the stairs as Poe appeared at the bottom. "So, you two are allied it seems..." he said, the seriousness in his tone filtering to his expression as the barriers quickly erected themselves once more around his hardened heart.

"Oh, yes mate. We serve the same lord. I'll say, funny how that turned out," Poe began, taking another step and getting out of Julian and Mary's way if they had followed him.

"Of course, I am not as pr--" he continued, then catching Layna's embarrassed gaze, and then her telepathic prompt to shush.

"Mr. Kasteny likes to remark on how things are," Layna said, squeezing her son's hand, but not trying to hide the flush in her cheeks.

Nodding in response he glanced at her, his eyes a calm violet, he exhaled slowly and spoke. "So he can take us anywhere then? Hmmm, if only I knew where was safest," a small frown crossed his face as he glanced back at Poe. He was sure the other two wished to be rid of this place as well, and he did too, if only for the moment. After all, his only leads on Aeris were in this city, as far as he was concerned, so he'd have to come back sometime.

"Yes, dear, anywhere that... has a door, correct?" Layna answered, then looking at Poe for confirmation.

"Spot on, madam," Poe replied, then turned his gaze to Mairyell, "Indeed, any structure in all the three worlds... Heaven, Hell, ... and all in between, yes. As long as it has a door, I will find it."

"It's just a matter of where we would like to find safety. Therein lies the gritty rub, now doesn't it?" Poe asked rhetorically, looking thoughtful as he stroked his chin.

Layna shifted her weight, thinking as well, but still held onto her son's hand. She then looked up at him, smiling faintly, but wondering if she should mention it... would he even remember that place? She was so keen on her emotions and memories, she could barely contain herself. But as excited as she was inside, she was not about to accidentally upset her son with sadness from his past.

"Any place with a door..." Mairyell's eyes closed as he pondered that statement deeply, even with the battle that clearly raged outside of the apartment's walls. "Doors," his eyes opened slowly and he looked down and to the side, meeting his mother's eyes and returning her smile. The warmth of her hand reminding him of somewhere, "I think I have a place...but its name eludes me. Mother do you remember where we used to go together? You'd take me there..." his eyes closed again as if he were trying to remember. He half expected her to finish his sentence.

Layna nodded, feeling the image of the place in her mind. "I do, sweetie... I'd take you there and help you build sand castles... and it's elude, not allude..." she corrected him, looking half scared that she had just done so.

"By Jove. Mothers, eh?" Poe quipped to Mairyell, to which Layna gave him another bemused glance to shush him up.

"Just take it, please, Mr. Kasteny, we need to hurry," she then asked him, holding out her hand.

"I'm on it, will just be a moment," the tophatter replied, briefly touching her hand by which an exchange of information from Mairyell's mind was transferred.

Poe then went over to a closet door and grasped the handle, turning it left and right slowly as though figuring something out. He hummed a little bit as he mumbled about length and depth, and other sorts of nonsense. Layna turned to Mairyell, but then also Julian and Mary if they had come down already. She gestured with a finger, her eyebrows high.

"Do you all have your things?" she asked the three of them gently, feeling a deep pain in her heart as she looked at Mary and was reminded of her daughter.

She suddenly gasped as something clattered through the window, smashing glass harmlessly onto the carpet. A half-dead demon, impaled on shards of glass, looked at Mairyell and Julian, the only two who looked dangerous, with an evil glare... but made no effort to get out of its predicament. Layna immediately rushed over to Mary and hugged her, attempting to shelter the poor girl's vacant gaze from the carnage. Not that it would probably do much good anyway, given what Mary had already gone through, but all mothers mother poor dears in deep need of mothering.

Such was Layna's logic.

Watching Poe for a moment and letting mom brief the other two, he noticed the sound of something flying through the air only a moment before the demon crashed through the window and slid slightly across the carpet. As Layna moved to Mary, Maiyell's head turned and his arm thrust out, blood exiting from the center of his palm and lengthening into a blade that stopped right before the creature's throat. Eyes narrowed as he glared down at the half defeated creature, the vampire briefly forgot his mother's presence and let his hardene blood push slowly into the hide of the demon's neck. "Cursed thing," he uttered with a growl before he realized what he was doing. Immediately changing tactics, Mairyell's blood liquified and writhed until it formed a cage around the beast, which was then forced upright into a rather tight and uncomfortable position and push against a wall where the blood hardened.

Shivering lightly he disconnected the blood, absorbing the small amount that he did not require for the blood prison. He had lost some of his stores so he felt a slight hunger tug at him as he glanced over to Julian, who appeared as if straining against something, and to Mary who was likely wrapped tightly in his mother's arms. Smiling sheepishly he turned away and then promptly walked over to the beast, picking it up with one arm at which point he flung it out the window, his blood piercing it as it exited their sight, and draining it of its life before flowing back to Mairyell and into him through the pores of his hand.

"Pesky creatures," he said a bit less aggressively than normal, after which point he turned to Poe, "nearly ready? It's getting more dangerous 'round here by the second."

Julian staggers forward to Poe. His sword had been clenched tightly around hilt and now small droplets of blood appeared off the tip of his index finger. Yet there was no cut. And his eyes were wild and crazed, with his right eye only being incredibly bloodshot, to the point that it looked like an infection. But Julian knew better. He felt what was about to happen to the City of Loom and the people in this room if they didn't leave right now. He ignored the Demon crashing through the Window. He just needed to get out of here.

And then he heard its voice enter his mind, but not through the sword as normal. But throughout the City. Spreading and lingering like an infestation

“A Heretic shall bring forth Salvation on a Mountain of the purged”

Julian backs away with fright. His own shadow looking less and less like his figure and the sheathed blade radiating with murder and hate. He turns to Poe.

“We are leaving right now, we aren't safe!” He said exasperatingly.

“Take me to Aberrose, Scotland!” He demanded. Much to his own surprise. It had been his childhood Summer home, and return home was quite honestly the last place he wanted to be. But in his moment of panic and desperation, it was the first safe place he could think of. For his summer home had been abandoned years ago.

“Mary will be safe there, for a while.”

Poe nodded at Mairyell, but then turned to the demanding Julian. "You two first then," the tophatter decided, pointing at Julian and Mary. Opening the door, a brilliant flash of white light illuminated the room before fading to a glow around the doorframe. Even though this was a closet door in this appartment somewhere in Loom, it looked as though an ocean and beach, with a wooden deck was inside.

"We'll keep in touch, so take this," Poe said, handing Julian a sophisicated cellphone, "and best of luck to you lot. Truly."

Layna guided Mary to the door, whispering that she will be alright. The former king and his girly subject then exited, and Poe closed the door, causing the white glow to fade. Layna then turned to Mairyell and smiling softly, took his hand as Poe opened the closet door again. Beyond the doorway, this time it showed a beach as well, but with more rocks and trees. The ocean could be heard in the distance.

"Let's go, my son," Layna whispered, gently guiding him through the door, after which Poe closed the door.

He sighed. "I'm ready, dear," he whispered, and an instance of the Reclaimer appeared and took him away.

Collab: Mikael and yoshua171
Chainborn and the Prison

In a few minutes from her initial walk, the Reclaimer had broken into a light jog, her feet literally fusing with the ground before breaking apart with each confident step. It surprisingly left no trail, nor foot prints as the dirt and rocks scattered randomly. As she progressed towards the Western Realm, the various toxic effects of Hell phased through her bodily links harmlessly, having no hold over her as she was no angel of Heaven, but a chainborn of Iota. But then she changed that interrelation, allowing the effects to actually damage her, thus turning areas of her body links vermilion in appearance. The damage shifted, concentrating into a spot on the back of her right hand, which slowly caused the color to progress into brighter shades of red. Additionally, her momentum remained stored within her body, even as she came to a slowing halt before what appeared to be an incredibly dark and heavy energy wall about 100 yards away.

It seemed rather potent too, for it surrounded the entire Western realm on all sides, including up into the sky above and down into the ground below; much like a massive orb. It was what caused the kingdom to be permanently locked into 'pseudo-night,' which of course nightwalkers probably loved. Given their racial proneness towards invincibility in such an environment, the orb-barrier was an effective barrier, even a security measure if anyone ever managed to break in. It had also been there for a very long time, and no lore, nor historian could accurately describe when it was made or what created it.

Undaunted by the first obstacle in her task, the Reclaimer stood there, her back straight and arms dangling at her side. Despite her eye-catching gray appearance, her body was outlined by dark lines, even the folds of her clothing, which all seemed to consist of a simple body suit and armored boots. But it was, after all, just an appearance, for her chain links were manipulated to make her look like whatever she wanted her body to appear as. Not that she cared at this point. It was a trivial matter for superficial teenage girls if humans were any measure to rule by.

Her wide, unblinking eyes stared into space, before closing as she gently imitated the act of exhalation. She began focusing on a single idea: an outsider and an entrance-barring wall. What did it mean to be an outsider, here? What did the wall do, here? Why? From every corner and every angle, she could envision herself around the orb. Then, her thought developed from there, her father's abstract-warping power flowing through her body links without any visual cues or supernatural beacon to be sensed. She reached for the interrelations, the conscious minds benefiting from this elaborate design. The wardens, and the nine smaller spheres engrafting each of their domains within the larger orb-wall. The truth continued to assume her mind and reached for the sensory interrelation. Szayeis would know who crossed this realm and when, and depending on one's entry point, it seemed several wardens would detect them, especially the ones watching over the sky and ground within. She mused further, feeling the magical atmosphere inside. It was fairly noxious, gloomy... eerie, and dark of course. But even other creatures used to the dark would find this place just a wee bit... peculiar.

She made a decision: she would not enter at all. In fact, she felt that for now, she would just lock everything and everyone inside completely.

Her body unceremoniously lifed straight up into the air a few yards, her eyes snapping open as her lips tightened into an anticipating sneer. Her arms and legs stretched out as she hovered motionlessly, her body resembling a 5-pointed star. Then she began to unravel.

Through the palm of her hands, the soles of her boots, and the top of her spiky hair, 5 singular gray chains, thin and small, ripped out soundlessly. Two of them below her feet ripped into the ground, while her arms' chains began to travel along the girth of the orb-wall. Only the one above her head raked up the sky by its lonesone. However, all the chains, as they zipped along just shy of the speed of light about 100 yards from contacting the orb-wall, were precisely equidistant from each other and the space within each line of chain contained a semi-transparent blueish light that spread as they did. At the end of each chain, the last link glowed, then transformed into a pointed, spear-like energy wisp.

The 5 chains instantly secured on the opposing side. The Reclaimer then started to pull herself out of the 5-chain wrap that she'd constructed, leaving in place single link interlocking each of the perimeter chains. Still in the air behind the large link, she clenched her hands into fists and, slowly narrowing her eyes, began focusing on tightening the perimeter at a rate of 2 yards per second. The bluish light's intensity in between all of the perimeter chains began to gradually increase.

No words. No fanfare. Just pure, unbridled action as the Reclaimer began her invasion of the Western Realm ruled by the Chimeric Lord of Chaos.

---

The shadows suddenly writhed and began to dissipate, being drawn inwards as something within, someone within, pulled with all their collective might to make the being's power falter and recede. "I..." the lord of chaos began, his voice barely notable in its pitch, "...will..." more of the demon's voice had risen, seeming to define itself, "...not..." the volume rose and his white eyes opened, "...be like..." his very essence flared to life, becoming almost like the fire Aulder had released.

"...the rest!" A pure white, but still unholy, power extended itself from Szayeis' eyes, spreading until it had encapsulated the lord's body at which point it spread through his shadows, turning them white. However, despite their color, they reflected only the base amount of light necessary to be seen...until they ceased even to do that. Yet...the lord's eyes turned and shifted through the air, seeming to gaze right through all that might impede them, until they stopped. There it was, the source of his external problems, or so he believed. "There is no hiding from the boundless shadows of existence, unnamed blasphemer, and let me tell you this. You will pay for your actions against me." The Reclaimer, and all who held connection to her, would receive the message, unbidden and unwanted.

Then, as his words were uttered and his body nearly finished dissolving into ethereal ash his eyes shifted, and blue Praestrigia ruled once more.

Then, like illusion, he turned to ash and blew in the wind, the chaos following him.

Many demons, though most would be swept up in Judas' call, would briefly appear confused and lost. However, his avatars would all drop to their knees, with only six out of the twelve remaining, the rest would keel over and die.

The Chimeric Lord of Chaos had departed and in the small building miles from the gates of Loom and concealed in the darkest corner of Jiggerbark forest, the second to last demonic rift...would snap shut, a wisp of darkness vanishing into its maw.

---

The Western realm shook as a tremendous rage entered its bounds. The fortress of chaos, a living chaotic construct shuddered and twisted its shape as a demonic rift opened and the lord of the realm exited, returning to his home. The Nameless Aide moved towards the lord's still white-shadowless body, its visage strangely humanoid even as darkness crept slowly over it, seeming to bleed both from the blue orbs and from the world that surrounded to fill him with color once more. However, as the Aide moved, a wave hit the demon, sending him flying through the door of the room and into the wall of the hallway that was outside it. "No one is to impede me, and no one is to speak a single word. My name is not to be mentioned, and my titles silenced from the lips of all my lessers. This day has taxed me and I intend to deliver that back upon my enemies tenfold, then twelve fold, exponentially, until their hearts shudder, their minds begin to crack, and their souls turn to dust."

The Nameless Aide, who had served Szayeis for the entirety of his 5,000+ years had nothing to say. His eyes held only terror, and his body could not move. For after witnessing the lord, even in war, never once lose his temper completely...he was shocked.

He wasn't the only one for even the two realms adjacent to that of the west would feel the lord's pure rage emanating through the mire of chaos that enclosed the Western realm unable to contain it. Then the lord walked past the Aide, not so much as acknowledging his existence, and turned down the hall. The castle writhed in response to its lord's call and so, in seconds, Szayeis had entered his throne room.

He did not sit upon the Western Throne. He did not call to receive his favorite beverage, blood wine, and he did not make any move to enjoy the wonderfully chimeric architecture of the place.

No, instead he glared at the throne, his eyes shifting between blue and white until he had reached it at which point he croached before it and slammed a single fist into its form. "I WILL BE THE DEATH OF YOU," Szayeis roared in fury before he rose to his feet, turned, took a step, and evaporated into pure formless shadow. The castle writhed inwards and outwards, expanding and contracting like some kind of diseased green, black, and red lung. It appeared as if undecided before its entire form shifted and it became black...and then became nothing.

It was gone.

Where the realm had before been covered only in the shadow of the orb, now it was utterly abyssal with shadow. The Nightwalkers had been sent into confusion, they could not understand what had happened...and they could not take even the most rudimentary of forms. Their minds frantic, the demons began to lose consciousness and even before panic could set in, the entirety of the West had been converted into a maelstrom of swirling essence and unguided thoughts.

"Those who dare stir me..."

Eyes began to open, but not one pair...

...thousands....

However among them all there were only several dozen that stood out. These eyes all shone with dual colors, though none were heterochromic, and all possessed the same chimeric blue of Praestrigia.

Among them two others were dominant, one buried, and one whose eyes were pure white, mixed with the stirring blue: Szayeis.

"...will know the true form of my kind."

Then the chaos orb shattered, unable to contain the essence that pressed upon it from within. "For chaos..." the black mass said as the eyes opened upon its outer surface, "...cannot be contained..."

Two pairs of eyes remained within the center of the mass, though they were still visible to the mind and the soul, "...nor controlled."

The mass shifted form, moving from an orb to the shape of a body with eyes covering its skin 'cept its face.

Only the closed lids of the restricted Old One, and the open embers of Szayeis fury shone upon the body's visage.

Those eyes stared directly into those of the Reclaimer before the body warped again and moved in its entirety out of the chains' grasp, slipping through the cracks and tearing any barrier that was cast before them. The body did not move far, stepping only into the Southern realm, and carefully avoiding the subjects of Daiyrisa. It shifted again, becoming body once more, rather than a black shifting mass. The visage turned to the Reclaimer and its voice rang out. "Retreat or be devoured. I am in no mood for children," there was rage in the voice that had the layers of hundreds of thousands of others. The entire populace of the West resided in that form...and their opinions were weaved throughout. "If you take actions against us the One will awake and worlds will become Empty...for we are the prison of souls."

As Szayeis and his kin merged and slipped through the horus-shaped holes in the Reclaimer's 5-chain snare, the snare itself kept shrinking and all the air, ground, and anything left behind was taken to Iota through the blue light in between the chains. Even as they spoke to her with pride and warning, the Reclaimer did not respond and simply concluded the ensnaring with haste until it was simply a ball of chain with two large round links on each side. It fell to the ground, shrinking even more until she stepped forward, drawing it to merge into her boot.

She then lifted her gaze up, resting it upon the great spectacle of darkness hovering miles away from her like some great titan. Below it and next to the Southern kingdom was the vast bowl-like 'hole' in the ground. The Reclaimer's attention then fell away, her eyes discerning some odd critter that had barely escaped from the conflict as it skittered along the ground.

'Your task is complete,' Ioi confirmed in her core, sending waves of assurance of a job well done through her body links.

But the Reclaimer did not want to go. She was bored, and had just now adjusted to Hell and one of its little kingdoms. Her emotions conflicted with Ioi's order, which he sensed--and lovingly adored--and thought for a moment. If any action woke up the One...

'Perhaps you should stay for a while,' he stated, a spark of joy rippling through her.

On the surface of her body, though, she appeared as bored and apathetic as ever. Until her eyes slithered up to meet Sazyeis's amongst all those other eyes that should not be there, and smiled.

For the first time. This was surely a precious moment in history. The Reclaimer, virgin of thoughts, words, and deeds, had experienced her first grin. She even lifted her hands up, whereupon manacles clasped her wrists and chained them together.

In other words, the Reclaimer had just surrendered to Szayeis and was now his to do with whatever he'd please.

Then Ioi spoke through the Reclaimer, albeit her lips did not stir, but Szayeis would surely recognize the voice. "You win, Master of the Game... and here is your pound of flesh for our actions against you," Ioi simply stated and nudged her mentally to walk toward the dark titan.

The Behemoth, Lautumiae the living, narrowed its many eyes, Szayeis' included, as surrender was proclaimed. The mass of chaotic essence and shadow-flesh briefly writhed and within it the lord shuddered mentally. He could only maintain this state for so long when there was nothing with which to focus the collective mind of Lautumiae. Shuddering even more, the behemoth took several steps forwards, all eyes trained upon the tiny female, before it walked directly over her, eyes still trained on her form, and entered the space of the west where it belonged. "Contritio, aut in Lautumiae cruciatus, et nos condemnet et qui illam regit" the mass uttered thunderously in unknown tongues, before it lost form, dematerializing partially to fill the pit that the Reclaimer had made.

In the single blinking of an eye the realm had returned, the orb was present, and it was as if nothing had changed.

Yet there was one strange aspect to the situation.

It was silent.

The Western realm had never been silent and it would have been maddening if it were not for its cause. All those who lived within its bounds now slept, except one, if you could refer to a chimera as such.

Szayeis' form, enthralled by darkness and sporting the eyes of Praestrigia once more, drifted through the air as a mist-like shroud.

"Bearer of chains," the game's master whispered with a hoarse voice, "what be your master's name..." as the wispy shadow spoke it became more and more solid as if every word validated its existence.

"Do not lie or omit," the lord said as his body took shape before the grey girl. "Silence will do you no better, for there is illusion in that action, just as there is in the movement of all things," while it was certainly not the voice of the ancient that spoke, it appeared as if Szayeis' own consciousness had taken a great toll in its defense of both people and domain.

Lowering her arms, the Reclaimer watched with wonder as Szayeis appeared before her, his kingdom restored to its original state. She ignored the temptation to grasp the interrelations between all of them and their lord. She mimicked what she saw a human girl do once, as Szayeis questioned her.

She bit her lip, then let it fall back into place.

Her eyes darted to the left. Was it nervousness? She did not know. That was a popular opinion, it seemed. They darted to the right. Her father was busy... his mind working on the lodestars. She was on her own for now, left here by her father to be a good little girl. Yet the words to speak did not come to her, especially since her vow of silence was her own choice.

Like sex, she wanted her virgin words to be special when shared: she looked at Szayeis's drained form, and a new emotion cropped up. Pity.

A single chain extended from her chest, making its way to communicate with Szayeis. But how? Would she communicate by emotions? Images? She'd already shared that with her brethren. It had been special, despite their initial fear of her. That was puzzling. She focused on Szayeis's understanding of his own language, and just language in general... nothing intrusive, simply just abstracts on the plane.

Continuing to smile, her eyes then drifted on the ground before them, and so did the chain. Its end link transformed into a manacle and it began quickly picking up various sized pebbles and rocks, and placing them down. It spelled out a name in a language the Chimeric Lord would understand:

I O I

The eyes grazed over the letters till they formed a name. "Three," the lord muttered before turning his back to her and walking towards the fortress of Lautumiae, the center of his realm. Without looking back he would speak, too tired to waste even the smallest of actions, "Come and obey," he did not bother to attempt forcing his will on her. If she followed, she did so willingly, and if she left...it was all the same. "...and never show me that emotion again." His barely solid body would gesture to the great fortress, which now slept and was still in its shape. "Go there, take time, do not rush. When you arrive you will be attended to...I must rest." He no longer cared if her master attacked again. If he did he was a fool, for the words of his realm were not to be ignored.

After all, while the Empty Lord had only three, Lautumiae possessed nine, triple his own amount.

It was however the meaning of his realm's name that mattered.

Its meaning held three as well, though only two were ever read.

Lautumiae...

...meant...

...Prison....

With this in mind, the lord's form faded into the earth, leaving her to choose between his rough suggestions, or the soft guidance of her father.

It was time to sleep...though only his body would regain vitality. His mind...his soul, was another matter completely.

He seemed tired. Exhausted. The harmony of his strength and vigor was out of place as it had not been before. She followed after him, not rushing as he'd advised. This must be what Nightwalkers do. They don't rush, they take their time, and do things the right way. It made sense. But the warning to not show him an emotion again, it puzzled her. Focusing on the interrelation between his knowledge and sense regarding how she'd expressed it to him, she realized he was talking about the pity thing. So she turned it off, her smile even brighter. Nightwalkers did not need pity. That was what she thought.

She was obeying someone. It felt good. In fact, she obeying two people now. The Reclaimer could barely contain herself, but she managed anyway. She remembered Naerisidia's words to her father... and upon hearing them again, she had to agree now. It made so much sense.

This was going to be an interesting year.

Mary

She didn't react to the demon shattering through the window, preoccupied as she was with trying to block out the deaths the Abyss was consuming. As far as she was concerned, if whatever had broken the glass was something that would try to kill her, death would be a blessing, a blissful silence. She wouldn't have to hear the howls from the Demons, the cries of the Angels, all sounding completely of terror and despair abruptly silenced before another took their place in an unending cycle. What she did react to, however, was the feeling someone feminine hugging her. Mary stiffened in surprise, the hug bringing memories of her, now dead,mother. How long had ago had it been since she last hugged and was hugged by her mother? Weeks, certainly. If not months. For a moment, Mary remained tense. Then she relaxed into the familiar feeling, before abruptly tightening herself into a ball again as a fresh wave of deaths hit her, from the war zone that had once been her city. A large swath of Demons had all died at once, and their howling was lasting far longer than the rest before the Abyss silenced them. She was only dimly aware of Julian demanding that they be taken to Scotland, that she would be safe there.

The next thing she was aware of was the same woman(presumably) that had hugged her, guiding her somewhere, whispering in her ear that she would be alright. The sounds of terror, panic, and then death disagreed. And then, suddenly, silence. There was no sounds of creatures lives being extinguished in her skull, no sounds of chaos and anarchy outside of a ruined apartment in Loom. Just the gentle sounds of the sea upon the beach. Warily, she opened her eyes to confirm what her ears told her. Nothing but a quiet, empty, beach. Mary sank to the ground, sobbing in relief. It was over, for now at least. When she finally regained control of herself, she took a ragged deep breath, and then let it out. Questions would come later. Right now, she just wanted to sleep.

An Old Enemy: Part 2

The black armored men stoically stared at the Chimera though the ACOG scopes of their rifles, waiting for their target to make a sudden move. Solus stared back at them, a little pissed off at this unfortunate turn of events, gradually placing his right hand by the handles of his swords. This stare down lasted for a few moments until one of the men put a hand to his covered up ear. “Two Q Actual. This is 13X13, over.” He said, still pointing his rifle at the Necromaster with one hand. Solus heard some muffled static through the silence, they were responding. “Code 02 in Sector 5Q7.” The soldier spoke again. And then more muffled static. “Understood.” With his final response to HQ, he pulled back the bolt on his rifle and repositioned his feet into a firing stance. This wasn’t good.

“Engage!” Ordered the commanding officer and all of his men opened fire at once. They emptied their entire magazines of strange blue glowing ammunition in Solus’ direction. The gunfire was deafening, and the falling shell casings sounded like a thousand brass oil drums slamming on the ground. The firing stopped in mere moments, the soldiers’ guns dry.

But what they looked upon was not a bullet ridden corpse, but a semi-circular wall of floating bullets. The commander immediately identified the phenomenon and what was to come afterwards. “BLAST WAVE!” Instinctively, all of his men either divided into cover, or put up wards of their own just as the very bullets they fired had been turned against them, and blasted in their direction. Everything around them was immediately shredded. Desks and office chairs where turned to atoms, windows shattered, and the walls expunged masses of concrete and plaster dust as molten metal slammed into them all.

The soldiers quickly emerged from their cover, weapons ready and loaded, but the smoke and dust obscured their vision. “Infrared.” Ordered the leader as he pushed a button on the side of his mask, and the glowing blue energy of its visor turned red. Now able to see the thick fog that was gradually settling, the officer and his men scanned the room with both their guns, and their eyes. Although they saw nothing. Not even a trace of Essence. The Chimera had simply vanished.

The squad leader put his hand to his ear again, and spoke. “Two Q Actual. This is 13X13. Code 02 has escaped. Requesting permission to pursue.” More static flowed into his ear. “Acknowledged.” He confirmed, having now received his new orders. The squad leader then turned to address his men “Cataphracts, we have new orders.”

---

Solus let out a sigh of relief. He had lost them, for now. He had weaved his way through the offices and took temporary shelter in lowly cubical. It wouldn’t be long before they’d find him, but if this forced them to split up just to cover more ground, then there would be less of them for him to deal with at a time. This isn’t really how he fought though. Normally, he would attack hordes of enemies at once, and succeed. But this was a much more organized horde. A horde toting state-of-the-art weaponry, and wielding magic to boot. He couldn’t recall any Tirmainian military units of ever even using any form of magic. Humanity needs angelic or demonic influence for something like that. Unless…

His thoughts were interrupted by the thumping of several pairs of combat boots hitting the ground in unison. They were nearby. Solus took a quick peek around the corner of the cubical, seeing two of them in a back-to-back formation. But where were the other 10 that he counted? That was a question that would be answered later. But right now, he had those two individuals to deal with.

He waited as the two soldiers got closer, patiently listening to their footsteps. It was when Solus got a glimpse of a boot around the corner of the cubicle, he burst around and grabbed the first soldier’s assault rifle, forcing the barrel to point at the ceiling as the soldier pulled the trigger, letting off a burst of bullets into the plaster above. Solus kept his right hand on the rifle while quickly placing the other hand on the trooper’s torso and saying, “ZCH PIR”. The second soldier who only just managed to turn around was slammed into by his brother in arms. Both of them smashing through a set of flimsy cubicles and flying out of an open window frame, falling to their deaths from the 12th floor.

Satisfied with the results of his little surprise attack, he inspected the rifle that was still in his hand, then pulled out the magazine, and saw blue glowing bullets within it. “The hell are these?” The Chimera asked himself as he looked upon the strange ammunition. He placed his fingers on them, risking his hand’s wellbeing just to see if there were any odd effects. Nothing. “Hmm…”

“We lost fireteam Gamma!” Shouted one of the soldiers somewhere from further down the office floor. Solus quickly loaded the rifle again, he only had one mag. Well, now he had some targets to borrow some of this new ammo from. He placed the stock on his shoulder, and in a crouched position, he quickly shuffled along towards the sounds, his ACOG Scope from his newly acquired assault rifle following his eyesight.

He turned the corner, and spotted another two of those mysterious soldiers. The Chimera raised his rifle and let rip, completely taking them by surprise and filling them with those fancy bullets. The two thumped to the ground, dead. Instinctively he began to hurriedly search their bodies. He grabbed 6 assault rifle magazines, and then laid a hand on one of the gas masks, but as he did so, he noticed a symbol on one of soldiers, the right shoulder.



“Oh… Fuck…” Mumbled Solus as the realization hit him. The Illuminati. They were here…

If they were here, that meant that Loom was really in the shit.

It was then when Solus’ face became puzzled as a red gas began emerging from the cracks in the floor and the walls. Not willing to risk it, he instantly grabbed the gas mask he had his hands on, and strapped it on over his face. It was time to leave.

Collab: Slade, Rtron, Mikael

Lucien glanced up at Ilana's words, to see what appeared to be a human girl coming down from the sky to land in front of them. Aside from the flying bit, his senses told him that she wasn't human. At least, not fully human. At Ilana's words, he only raised an eyebrow and was about to ask exactly how she was going to sync with his movements when she had never met him, when a very loud boom brought his attention back to the girl in front of him. As the Reclaimer pulled off her middle finger, without flinching, Lucien blinked in surprise and felt a grudging impression. The girl was certainly tough, if nothing else. He hoped she would be useful in the coming battle as everything in the city that could answer the call of the sword descended upon their location. Hope turned into certainty and impression turned into respect as Ilana informed him that the Reclaimer was invading Szayeis's kingdom.

Rather than stare at his 'protector' Lucien turned to Ilana. "And exactly how is she going to sync with my movements if this is the first time she has ever seen me, let alone actually fought with me. I've met some fast learners in my time, but none quite that fast." He would inquire how she was invading a Demon Lord's land in hell later. Right now, he had more pressing matters.

He felt it a split second before it actually arrived. Malice and hate, and something that felt more human than Angelic or Demonic. And then red smoke was pouring up through the cracks in the ground. Lucien's first reaction when something he wasn't expecting appeared on a battlefield was to get the hell away from it as fast as possible. That was the idea, anyway, as he opened his wings saying, "Time to go!" To Ilana. But the smoke reached them before he could do much more than just begin to flap down, and he was just...slowed. What should have been a simple manevour became a clumsy effort, and he very nearly fell to the ground.

Ilana looked back up at Lucien's questioning, but it was one that she knew only Ioi could answer satisfactorily; anything less would be woesome ignorance. Glancing between him and the Reclaimer, she shrugged her wings and shoulders, and sighed lightly.

"I really couldn't explain it to you, Lucien," she stated meekly, looking away... but then her gaze came back, eyes wide and her mouth hung ajar at the force of hatred that was coming after them.

The very same fight-or-flight instinct ripped through her as well. "I know!" she cried as he did, both of their wings flapping quickly. Unfortunately, Lucien didn't follow after her, which she instantly noticed with a strong impression from the Reclaimer that observed the spectacle before them. Groaning loudly, Ilana made a half-spin dive and swooped underneath Lucien. Whilst she caught him carefully, she was not used to flying so dynamically and slid back on her heels. They both collapsed in a heap as the red, hateful essence flowed over them, nearly covering their faces.

'I can't... I can barely move,' Ilana mentally cried, her plea spreading down the chain connection to her brethren in Iota, including Ioi.

Nobody replied and it frightened Ilana to her very core.

The Reclaimer moved over them, no longer pinned to the surface of the Red Square's lot. She did not know what this red essence was, even as she sensed the interrelation between it and its victims. It was some sort of mind numbing effect, making people completely docile. She noticed all around her that angels were falling, demons were keeling over. All rendered completely docile. Ilana, given her former original angel nature, seemed semi-vulnerable to it. The Reclaimer eyed her trying to pull Lucien and crawl away, but her strength was so feeble. She could have escaped, but she had used it up on preventing Lucien from cracking his head on the ground.

As a chainborn, it would seem that she was not affected by this red essence at all. It actually infuriated her: this was new and she could not sync with it to make it affect her. As damaging as it would be to her, it was in her nature to unleash the same kind of onslaught back to the perpetrator that unleashed this foul crimson force. Regardless, she had one order to obey from her father: Protect Lucien and the Sword. So she waited, all of Loom silenced. Nothing stirred and save for the sound of labored breathing across the cityscape, the Reclaimer reached out for additional stimuli that might indicate an enemy's approach.

As the essence continued to infect the city, it made sure to engorge itself around Lucien and llana, bombarding their minds, making them slow and clumsy. It gently brushed against their ears where it whispered its poison.

"So smug, so confident, and yet here you are, dirty heathens under my heel. Every single winged rat and disgusting Demon is under my control in this city. And now I have added two more to my collection.”

Then his attack went full force, their skulls, minds becoming more of a burden with each thought seeming to literally become a heavy weight inside their brain. They could sense the disturbing pleasure he got out of trying to break their minds into pieces.

“How does it feel to realize you are worthless trash? To be suppressed and stripped of your imaginary dignity? Implying you filth can even understand such a concept.”

The Essence, now shifted its attention on this other one, who seemed to not be affected by it. Not Angel or Demon. It chuckles as it curiously swirls around her. The entire block now swallowed up in the Heretic's dream.

“Now this is interesting. I never expected worthless scum to be able to res-

It stops speaking as a shrill animal-like yell descends upon them. Deafening to the point of severe pain. It had found something. It had brushed up against Lucien's sword. Suddenly, the weightless red essence became heavy and thick as wrapped itself around Lucien, its voice harsh and unkind.

“SO THIS IS YOUR LITTLE SCHEME MELODY! YOU EXPECT THE ANGELS TO SAVE YOUR SKIN! THE HEATHENS CANNOT EVEN SAVE THEMSELVES!”

Then a small portion of the Essence faces Lucien, touching his nose it became so close. Where it slow morphs into a face... and horrifying smoldering face with glowing red eyes.

“And this is because you are of no use. You are imperfect relics before the Gods created Man. And you will not steal our birthright!”

This happened nowhere else in the City, just this one block. But the walls began leaking a thick black bile of a fluid. At first glance, it almost looked like a shadow crawling down the sides of the buildings. But upon close inspection, it was something else, something foul and unclean.

And it was hungry.

"You...should....have gone." Lucien managed to get out, with effort. She had come back for him. Come back for him when she should have fled. Something was coming, if it wasn't already there. They had to get up, they had to get moving. Before he could help Ilana, however, he had to help himself. Slowly, agonizingly so, he disentangled himself from the other Angel and got his hands underneath himself. It was a start. The red mist around them was growing thicker by the second, and so was the feeling of hate and malice, unchecked. A voice began to whisper, seeming to come from the mist around them. Apparently, whatever or whoever had sent this mist had a grudge against both Angels and Demons. Ignoring it, and concentrating on moving his limbs, Lucien managed to get on his knees. He was trying to get at least one foot beneath him, using his sword (with the sword Hazumi had become still safely sheathed) as leverage. That is, until the thing started attacking him. His knee came smacking back to the earth with a clang, and the only thing that kept him from falling back to the ground was his sword, his face set in a snarl of pain. How long it lasted, he didn't know, too busy trying to prevent this new enemy from breaking his mind to count the passage of time.

And then it was done, distracted by the Reclaimer. Lucien took this brief opportunity to get one foot underneath him. He would be standing before this thing actually made its appearance. He would not just lay down and let it kill him. Sadly, he didn't get any farther as a painful shriek echoed around them, the mist becoming heavier and thicker. Once again, the only thing that kept Lucien from crashing back to the ground was his sword embedded in the ground. He didn't even hear the mist's creator yelling, still deafened and in pain from the shriek. When he next opened his eyes, there was a rather ugly face with glowing red eyes touching his nose.

"T-Th-Then....w-w-why....are....y-you....h-hi-hiding....from....u-us?" Lucien managed to get out, barely.

Nothing was making sense to her. The Reclaimer could feel Ilana's torment, and yet she did not diffuse upon her brethren as an Iotan should. Even when she was about to put an impression upon her to do so, her father lightly told her no. That especially did not make sense: why would her father let a fellow Iotan suffer so? It was wrong! Yet she obeyed, feeling that Lucien was going through the very same trial. She watched as he struggled to his feet, whilst Ilana laid there comatose underneath him. Turning towards them, the Reclaimer didn't even flinch as the his regular sword impaled the ground; she focused entirely on her fellow Iotan. Torn between sending her home and leaving her there, the Reclaimer let out a subtle, but audible growl as she grew frustrated. 'Let him take you,' Ioi told her daughter.

At the same time, the Empty Lord whispered something else in Ilana's mind. Whatever it was, it seemed to give her a second wind. Ilana immediately drew to her knees and half-crawled over to Lucien, her eyes at that moment seeing the hideous face before them. That stimuli correlated over to the Reclaimer, who immediately turned to it as Ilana struggled to help Lucien to his feet.

"Lucien, we will not win today," she whispered in his ears as tears streamed down her cheeks.

The Reclaimer then noticed the black sludge all around them, oozing closer and closer. Her father's command proved to be bitterly obeyed... but obey she would, in the manner she decided was best. Inspired by Lucien's stance against this force, the Reclaimer maneuvered around behind him and Ilana and seized them by their waists. Her strength and density was so immense, they would not help but feel how great her grasp was on them. Holding them off the ground, almost in an odd group-hug, thousands upon thousands of chains began wrapping around the Reclaimer, Lucien, and Ilana.

"Wait, what are you doing?!" Ilana squirmed uneasily, grabbing onto Lucien's torso.

No response came as the Reclaimer continued wrapping them in some sort of protective cocoon made of hundreds of thousands tiny gray metal links. It was not, however, the same as being wrapped in chains made by humans (or angels and demons). In fact, the more chains that wrapped around them, the more comfortable it became; almost as if the links were squishy, instead of cold and hard. Just when their air supply would start to run out, two links went under Lucien and Ilana's noses. Through the horus-shaped hole in those links came actual air from Iota, unshrinking and entering their lungs. All the while, Ilana, somehow through the chains, gently stroked Lucien's cheek in attempt to calm him. It was all unfamiliar to her, even as an Iotan, but her faith kept her grounded.

Lastly, the Reclaimer surface-pinned them all to the ground in case their opposer tried to remove them: Judas would find his prey immobile and heavily armored, but if he wanted that sword, he was going to have to find a way to take it and it alone, because the Reclaimer was not going to suffer another moment of Lucien or Ilana's prolonged turmoil. For the longer she stayed in sync with them in this cocoon, the more and more this crazed foe would lose his mental grip on them.

"I'm sorry, Lucien," Ilana whispered through the chains, "Seems we will have to live to fight another day..."

Right after llana spoke, another animal-like sound came from outside the cocoon. But this time it was a deep roar of a hungry beast. What felt like a giant club to the three inside smashed against their barrier, only to hear an immediate low snarl of annoyance. Seemed that every attack rebounded against its attacker. The voice, now a low crazed voice seethed and mocked the three inside.

“That's right! Hide like the plague ridden rats you are. How does it feel to live in fear? To live like a slave? Oppressed and stripped of your heritage.”

The red essence attempted in vain to crawl through the chains, but midway through the barrier the chains tightened and it retreated away, but not before let more of its lingering words reach them and tickle their ears with its viciousness.

“That will be your punishment: Your wings shall be torn, your bodies burned, your childrens heads shall be bashed against a tree. Your very existence will be forgotten.”

The roaring and the snarling subsided and even the gentle rocking of the cocoon by the red essence brushing against it stopped. And all became quiet and still as those last biting words lingered on in the minds of all three, who couldn't see what was happening outside their safe zone.

It started slowly, but the faint sound of footsteps could be heard. But as they came closer, the three began to realize how many footsteps there were: too many to count. No voices were heard, just the sounds the footsteps and the rocking of the cocoon. But then they heard something else; the slow trickle of a fluid coming closer and closer to them.

A large force smashed into the barrier and a yelp was heard as the barrier counterattacked. But this was the sound of a Demon. Then another attack followed by a scream.... of an Angel. Then magic began hitting it and the intense heat was felt by all three when a giant flame hit the barrier and it rocked violently. A variety of attacks began targeting the cocoon and despite the screams and pained yells. They just kept come back. Attacking mindlessly.

It stops just for a moment, the three thinking that they finally gave up. Until they all attacked at once. All three bounce back as the barrier tries its best to take the majority of the force. But on the outside it was deteriorating quickly. The chains dissolving under the pressure of the combined attacks of an enormous number of Angels and Demons, with the chains turning into harmless wisps and flying into the sky.

Soon enough, the three could see the forms of their attacks as they clawed closer and closer to them. Before the black bile crawls into the cracks and begins to infiltrate the barrier, that was now too weak and distracted by its other attackers to resist it. And a slow mental bombardment would begin again.

“Welcome to your Apocalypse.”

"I-I...noticed." Lucien grated out in response to Ilana, smirking, before his eyes widened in surprise as the Reclaimer grabbed him around the waist from behind, and chains began to surround them. He couldn't do much more than wait as the mental assault was still going and it required all of his energy to not be driven insane by this hate filled creature. The more chains that wrapped around him, the more control he found that he had. And the more concerned he grew with what exactly the Reclaimer was doing, aside from immobilizing them. The only thing that prevented him from lashing out was the fact that Ilana wasn't panicking. Quite the contrary, in fact. She was actually stroking his cheek. Turning as best he could towards her in the rapidly thickening chains, he chuckled softly, despite the situation they found themselves in. Here he was, mighty warrior, getting ready to panic when an ally seemed to be helping them, and she was as calm as can be. It was amusing, if slightly dampened by the chance of horrific death outside and the promise of it from the mist creator.

At her final words, he laughed outright. "Sorry? Dying tends to be a rather final solution. I'd much rather have lived and ran than fought and died for nothing." And then there wasn't any time for words as their shelter was assaulted by one creature...and then many creatures. He couldn't tell what the first thing was, but those that came after he identified quite easily. Their shelter was slowly being torn down. For a moment, he could see the shapes and forms and faces of the mob outside trying to break through. And on the inside...Ilana was far closer than he had originally anticipated, and was still stroking his cheek. Even as the strange black liquid began to break through, he smiled. And then it turned into a grimace of pain as the red mist began to renew its mental assault. The cocoon of chains continued to be broken down, and Lucien found he could move his arms. Slowly, he began to reach for the sword Hazumi had become. Inch by embattled inch, he reached for it. And just as he touched it...the black liquid wrapped around his wrist and broke it as easily as he would a human child's. And then, while his hand was incapacitated, it took the sword.

Ilana smiled as he laughed. It was true, and there was no need for her to be sorry. She kept her mind solely on Lucien, letting the Reclaimer handle Judas and his black ilk and mobs. The temptation to cry was great, but she was finally diffusing her fear and emotions through to her brethren. Feeling his squirming towards her, the originally angelic Iotan's eyes lit up as Lucien's face appeared so close. Her caress formed into cupping his cheek, her eyes searching his eyes and seeing the witness he was bearing: what it meant to be Iotan...

Calm in the face of threats,
Silence at the shouts of adversaries,
Love in the fire of hatred,
Life as death whispered fates.

Ignoring the chaos outside, she memorized his smile to memory, knowing her time to leave was nigh...

Outside the cocoon, the Reclaimer fought back waves upon waves of angels and demons. Dozens of them were knocked back with a single chain that came lashing out of the cocoon whenever one of them touched it. The black sludge continued pounding on her, the damage shifting into her and leaving red chains prepared to rebound the damage. Several times the black sludge was knocked back by its own power, but it still kept coming. It was as relentless as she was, and she had a strange admiration for such a foe. If it wasn't for her orders and Lucien and Ilana being in her defensive cocoon, Judas would feel the full wrath of her assault. But it would seem that would have to wait for another time, another day...

She then felt Lucien's actions, moving with purpose and determination: her body links synced with his, she did not resist him as he moved, reaching for the Sword. As he reached, several chains knocked away demons and angels trying to rip his arms. But then, right before Judas's blackness broke the original angel's wrist, it attacked the chains protecting Lucien's arms. It absorbed the damage, as was routine, but just as it was about to rebound on the attacking sludge, another one of her chains came forward to attack it. It resulted in the Reclaimer assaulting herself, metaphorically knocking the wind right out of her. And the sword was stolen.

'Let him have it...' Ioi guided his daughter, her desire to reclaim it stronger than ever. 'No... it is not ours to reclaim; his lodestar will come in time.'

Obeying the Empty Lord, the Reclaimer suddenly shifted strategies: she would protect Lucien and Ilana by retreating. The Sword was in Judas's hands now and it was clear to the Reclaimer that her father was not disturbed by that fact. She unleashed the surface-pinion that kept her anchored, and the mobs would find the formerly rocking half-cocoon falling onto some of them. None of them were crushed, but the Reclaimer had other plans. Several black chains wrapped around many, many angels and demons, shrinking them down into world of Iota, the film between matter and abstracts. A moment after that, in a brilliant flash of bluish light and semi-transparent, dividing cubes, she did the same for herself, Lucien, and Ilana--some of the black sludge was taken along as well... much to the Empty Lord's anticipation.

Judas had certainly won the battle, but only time would tell if he would be the victor in the Great War that was to come.

Rina woke up with a start, the dusty blankets having fallen to the side of an old bed. She'd spent the last two hours just wondering around, bored the fuck out of her mind, when she'd come upon this old bedroom. It was quite barren except for a oaken bed, chair, and desk. Despite her efforts to clear the place out in a jiffy, it was still fairly dirty and quite an assault on her poor nose.

Sitting up, she swung her feet over the side, unable to touch the ground as her feet dangled. Sighing, she could not believe how hot and stuffy it was in here. In the darkness, she eyed her clothes on the floor board and then fished her white blouse and putting it on. She was dismayed to see a large cut was over its stomach. When did that...happen? Groaning, she rose to her feet and groggily approached a window. No luck. It was boarded.

Her shoulders slumped, but then her stomach growled. Groaning again, she raked her hand over her hair, pushing it aside as she left the bedroom to return to the back entrance foyer. Upon arriving, she adjusted her pink panties and found a nice dry spot next to a supply crate. Cracking it open, she squinted in the darkness, fishing around for something to eat. Wonder where Uncle is... and Solus... he hasn't contacted me again since earlier...'

Leaning against the wall, the young girl crunched the peanut butter crackers slowly, methodically. Not even sure what she was going to do next, but it didn't matter in the moment. She had food and she was eating it.

---

Solus could barely hold the steering wheel with his bloody left hand as he drove the car up the mountain trail. "God damn." He winced as he grasped a wound on his left side. That Puritan almost tore him to pieces, and worst part of it all is he never did find out what it was that was calling for him, or figured out what is happening. All this, a wasted effort. "Shouldn't have gotten out of that Bath..."

The house was finally in his sights, and Solus had never been so glad to see it, or maybe he has. He couldn't remember. He drove the car around to the back door, it was the closest entrance to the Life Pool and it was open anyway, broken by a certain somebody that has been staying in his house for the past several hours.

He stopped the car, and stepped out, not even closing the door behind him as he walked towards the broken door, hobbling on his shreaded right leg. He tore the ballistic mask off his face and tossed the assault rifle hanging on his shoulder on to the dry mountain dirt. Then walking in and stepping into the old sauna, where the Life Pool was, only to stop and see Rina sitting there, eating. In her underwear. Despite his wounds, his attitude still remained the same. "For the love of god, put some clothes on!"

Rina's eyes went wide as she heard a vehicle pull to a stop, her ears perking as footsteps indicated someone was coming in. Given that the door hadn't been fixed yet, it could have been anyone. And here she was, almost in her birthday suit, defenceless. Her mouth still half full, she couldn't even swallow as a shadow slipped through the door way. Solus!

Before she could even smile, let alone stand up, he had already derided her for being 'comfortable.' Standing up with a crunching growl, then a swallow, her glare earned no reaction, of course. She threw what peanut butter crackers that she had left at him as she stomped out of the room to obey him. The wasted food impacted his face, breaking into little bits that littered the floor at his feet.

"Asshole," she mumbled in the hallway, walking faster.

Solus cleaned off the remaining crumbs off his face. He didn't really deserve that. He let her stay in this the house, the least she can do was wear clothes instead of putting her groin on display. And then he realized, this was probably worse than what was going on in Loom. He sighed and started to strip, where just then the little brat returned fully clothed. She simply stood to the side, watching him quietly. Solus turned to her after just removing his weapons and trench coat. "You gonna give a man a little privacy or are gonna watch me get naked?"

She blanched, her cheeks burning to the bone. "I-I-I, I'm sorry. Just ... you, your wound," she stammered, half-turning and putting her head against the door.

"And sorry for, for throwing things at you. I just miss you and then get yelled at," she explained, sighing, "... but it's okay."

"You didn't answer my question..." Solus reminded her as he took his shirt off and tossed it aside, revealing his scarred torso.

She sighed. Lifting her forehead off the door, she exited the room, closing it behind her. Her footsteps sounded off into the distance, indicating she had headed to the bedroom again. Then another door slammed.

Now with some privacy, Solus removed the rest of his clothing, and with a lot of pain, climbed into the pool. The red water bubbled and steamed up for a few moments before settling down and beginning its healing process. "You can come in now." the Necromaster called out.

The door cracked open, the girl having returned. But she remained outside the room, just sitting there with her face barely visible.

"So what happened in Loom?" she asked quietly.

"I did say you could come in..." Solus said. "Are you always this difficult?" He shook his head and sighed. "I don't know what happened... I never got to find out."

She crawled in on all fours, closing the door before sitting legs crossed with her hands down in her lap. "No," she said simply, sticking her chin out.

"Hmm," she mused, blinking, "Well, who attacked you, I mean?

"People you wouldn't know. So names don't matter." He said quietly as he relaxed and slid deeper into the pool. "Loom's gone to shit..."

Rina rolled her eyes, leaning forward to put her mouth in her palm and hold her up. Sighing lightly through her nose, her mouth opened slightly so her teeth could scrape her skin a little. Then he mentioned Loom. Immediately her mind thought of her uncle and his whereabouts.

"... how?" she asked, her voice muffled as she narrowed her eyebrows.

"The commercial district has been flattened. And Angel HQ is literally floating somewhere in the sewers." Solus closed his eyes. Extinguishing their green flames. "Central has been quarantined, with enough military around to make a demon think twice. And there's a lot of bodies lying around." He opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling. "Ever heard of The Lord of Chaos?"

Putting her hands down, Rina rolled back her shoulders as she leaned against the wall again and listened. She had no idea what to make of all of that, except that it sounded just awful. And perhaps somewhere in middle of all that was her uncle. She pulled out her smartphone and typed 'Lord of Chaos' in a search engine. Several million results showed up.

"Can't say I have," she replied, "Oh... he has a website. Hum... pimple-faced douche..."

She looked up at Solus, bemused.

Solus chuckled at her vain attempt. But really, it was a dumb question to ask, of course she wouldn't know. "The Lord of Chaos is a Demon Lord of Hell, in a continent to the West. He's a type of demon called a Nightwalker. Powerful enough to flatten this city ten times over, in five minutes." Solus breathed out as the healing liquid numbed the pain. "He decided to come out of hell and take a stroll around town, killing hundreds of people... I didn't see it all. But I sensed his presence, and saw the aftermath later."

Tongue in cheek, Rina cocked an eyebrow as the Lord of Chaos's latest activities were described by Solus. Again, she didn't know what to think. Sure, she'd heard of hell and demon rulers and such. Never thought they'd come to the Surface so whimsically, though. She blinked, looking away for a moment as she checked her inbox. Nothing. Then her gaze returned to Solus.

"I see," she replied dryly, "well, just thinking we need to go and kill him sometime, huh?"

Damn that girl was ignorant, but Solus couldn't really judge her, he didn't know her life. "Oh and I almost forgot... Hi."

She couldn't help but smirk. That was... odd, wasn't it? Butterflies gathered up in her stomach. "Um, hey there," she greeted him, feeling silly.

Getting to her feet, she walked confidently closer and got down on the floor, stomach first, with her elbows propping her up. She stared at the life pool, not that she could see anything of Solus swimming around down there. She pursed her lips, thinking of something she wanted to say, but then lost it and remained quiet, pondering.

Her face was heavily concentrated, her eyes darting left and right, blinking. Thinking.

"By the way..." Solus continued while glaring into empty space. "You remember that demon woman with the collar? Back in Thorpe?"

She looked at him, trying to remember. "Um... same one who gave me this?" she asked, pulling something out of her backpocket.

It was that strange heart amulet, which was still beating. Clearly, Rina had long come to terms with the damn creepy thing...

Solus sat up so that he could see the amulet. He inspected it for a few moments with his eyes before coming to a conclusion. "Yes, the very same..." He searched for words and trying to form sentences, thinking of how he was going to tell her about the message that was passed down to him. "I saw her during this whole mess. She came and told me that Peskay was one of 'them' now, and that he had a message for you... It's in my trench, left inner pocket. The message is a set of coordinates."

"O-O-One of th-them..?" Rina asked incredulously, blinking rapidly.

Even as she had asked that, she moved over to his trench coat and retrieved the paper that Garnette had given to Solus. Resting on his jacket, she squinted in the darkness at the coordinates as she crossed her bent legs.

"All I know is this is on a different continent..." Rina stated, sighing, "But no idea why Uncle would have coords to ... that. So weird."

Turning her head toward him, "What did she mean, though, Solus? One of them?" she asked, a growing fear in her tone.

"Maybe has one of those collars around his neck, joined their side... I don't know... Wish I had the answer, kid." He replied.

She hummed, stuffing the paper in her blouse front pocket. Rina then lowered her legs, stretching them out along with her arms and twisting her body. A subtle moan escaped her throat as she collapsed lightly, her limbs sprawled out lazily and her hair covering her face. Sighing, she puffed a bit of air, causing her hair to flop up, but it still came down to cover her face.

"How's it feeling?" she asked him.

"Better." Solus replied. His eyes closed as he pondered on the meaning of those coordinates. Another continent, huh? He doubt he would even bother traveling that far. If the girl wanted to follow them, she would be on her own.

"Good," she said, sighing again.

"You want me to do anything?" she asked him.

"You're not my slave. You don't have to do anything..." He commented. "Just give me some room to get dressed."

"Sure..." she replied, sitting up as her back cracked a little.

Rubbing it, Rina shuffled to her feet, but then asked, "But... what if I want to be your slave?"

She adverted her gaze as she asked that, but continued toward the door to give Solus some privacy.

The Chimera raised his eyebrows at her last comment. What's that supposed to mean? He climbed of the bath, and got geared up again in mere moments. He then walked towards the door that lead to the hallway beyond, and opened it, finding Rina standing there.

Her sobs quieted as soon as she heard the door open behind her, but there would be no way to hide the wet mess dripping down her face. Her arms hugging her sides as she leaned against the wall, she let them fall down as she regained her balance and stared down the hallway. She wouldn't dare to glance back at him now. Not if she wanted to keep up her 'tough fascade', though really she was one more negative emotion from breaking down entirely. The chink in her armor had been broken apart now that she knew her uncle was gone, so to speak. She was just getting used to having a normal relationship with him and working out problems in Thorpe... and now this... change. This 'he's one of us now' horseshit.

Feeling she was in Solus's way, she started lifting her foot to move, but felt exasperated by how heavy it was. So impossibly heavy...

The man just stood there, watching her. He never truly felt loss before, having never had anyone close to him. Being born homeless forced him to only ever care about himself at a young age. And when there were people that he cared about on some level, they died. And that only reinforced the solid steel wall that surrounded his emotions and rarely let them out.

Solus took a step towards the girl and asked. "What's wrong?"

She felt that coming. The inevitable question. She clenched her teeth, her eyes low as she turned her head toward Solus. Her hands trembled, so she put them in her pockets.

"Just... well, just when my uncle and I could get back to a normal relationship... and work together for Tho, Thorpe's recovery and shit," she started, her breathing irregular.

"He just goes ... abandons me. Like my father," she finished, shaking her head.

"I'm tempted to go hunt him down... rescue him from those weird fucks," Rina continued, but then sighed.

"I don't know, I'm just tired of being used and dumped, dumped like, like trash when most convenient," she said, bitterness in every syllable.

"Dumped and used..." Solus repeated the words, tasting them. Those were words he hadn't thought about in a long time, two whole decades in fact. "Humph, turns out I have a PhD in 'Dumped and Used'. But that's a story for another time..." He turned his head towards Rina.

"And how are you going to rescue your uncle?"

She nodded, but then looked up as she turned to him, finding his green flamed eyes upon her. She stared into them without a hint of joke or doubt.

"Gather information," she answered coolly.

"Information..." Solus repeated, his doubt was clear, she had no idea what she was really going to do. "You have no clue, do you?"

She blinked. Solus was clearly losing his touch. "Didn't I just admit that, dumbass? Wouldn't be needing to gather information if I knew what needed be done."

She rolled her eyes then, letting out a slight hiss as she crossed her arms and looked away.

"Information is useless if you don't have any skills to be able to apply that knowledge..." Solus said shaking his head. "Ok... Count off your fingers the skills that you are moderate at. And then I'll tell you if you succeed."

She sighed, shaking her head lightly. Turning her gaze to him, her glare clearly indicated her growing ire. "Look, not gunna play your lil' game. I know I'm 'unskilled', mmk?" she stated, quoting the air.

"Big fat elephant in the room, you wanting to train me, which I'd love? So why don't we get down to it?" she asked, before smirking. "Wait.. wait, is that what this is all about? You need a little motivation, master?"

Assuming that was the case, Rina dropped to her knees, her mouth perfectly lined up for the task. She then began tugging at Solus's pants and actually unzipping things.

Solus drew his gun and placed the barrel on the top of her crainium. "Get the fuck up." His voice was calm, calm enough to prove that if she didn't, he'd pull the trigger and throw her body out for his guards to feast on. As she did get back to her feet he holstered his weapon and continued. "I don't train anyone, ever. I was just asking about this grand plan of yours, since you have clearly thought it through all the way up to the point where you get your ass killed." He kept his hand on his gun jist in case she tried that shit again. "Get your head in gear, kid. What you're planning is suicide..."

She sighed again, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall behind her and listened to him. He was putting words in her mouth, but God forbid she even try to correct him about that. Swallowing her pride, she nodded, playing along. Her heart shelled up a little, which was the least she could do without penetrated by a bullet.

"Okay," she droned emotionlessly, feeling she will just go through the motions. Like with anything else that she'd done or put up with.

After a moment of silence, she decided not to. "C'mon Solus... what's it gunna take t'get through your damn skull that I'm here, for you. Dedicating my life, to you..."

She threw up her hands, continuing, "I mean, I'm not perfect. What you expect me to do? Every time I try to please you or something, it's always wrong. Every time I try to understand you, you change gears on me."

She put her hands down, balling into little fists. Her face was even scrunched up, her eyes welling as well.

"We met merely two days ago, and you are willing to dedicated your 'life' to a random stranger? What kind of fucked up life have you been living to become so desperate?" Solus wasn't really sure what to think of this girl. The more she opened her mouth the more delusional she sounded. Maybe she was in shock. Everything was falling apart around her after all. He sighed. Thinking for a moment.

"Solus Grim. Slayer of Demon Lords. Training random kids off the damn street..." He mumbled as he started to pace back and forth. "Alright." He said. "You want to be trained? Fine. But on two conditions..."

She blinked, the wells breaking and tears now flowing down her cheeks. Immediately wiping it, she squinted up at him, her heart in her throat. She was starting to feel hot, dizzy even. This house definitely needed to be aired out and cleaned.

"What," she prompted him.

"Number one." He began. "You will follow my orders during training sessions without hesitation. And two. You will not cry and you will not complain. If you break any of those two conditions, you're done. Out on your own. I want to see 100% dedication. You do that, and we'll be good. Alright?"

"Sounds good to me," she replied, not realizing that there was blood dripping out of her nose a little.

"I have one condition of my own though, if I may," she said, waiting for him to reply.

"You may..."

"I- ... I want your love... whatever I'm allowed of it, whatever's left of it, but I do want it, and all of it," she stated slowly, her voice nearly fudging the words.

It was a crystal clear moment of clarity in Rina's mind about what she wanted from him, and she just felt she needed to explain how she felt, for once, without being demonically perverted, or losing the courage to ever speak of it again.

"Oh shit," she gasped, wiping her nose's blood.

Solus wasn't sure what to say. Unsure of what to think or even how to respond. He just stood there with his mouth open, speechless. "Um... I-... I'll try and- um..." He stuttered out. "There are paper towels in the kitchen. Just go down the hallway and head left at the end..." Did he just really change the subject? Even he knew that that wasn't him at all.

"Ah... o-okay," she stammered, her voice extremely nasally as her fingers held her nose close.

She darted off, suddenly losing her footing and nearly slammed down face first. Fortunately she caught herself with her free hand and recovered fast. And then she took a right at the end, and entered the wrong room. A mild curse could be heard as she zipped back out and stomped out to the right way.

"OH MY GAWD THERE FUCKING RATS IN HERE!" she screamed from the kitchen a moment later.

The Flashback: Removal of the Apostate and the Glorious uprising: Part three

At first there was the sound of a spear pulling out of flesh, and finally, the pained scream of man. There was no red, it had retreated back into its depths and the darkness that had enshrouded the throne room lifted and all that there was to be see was a broken man on his knees. His eyes blurry with newly forming tears as he watched everything he fought for bleed and be put down like a dying pathetic animal. He felt his chest, where was the giant spear wound that had defiled him just moments ago? He looked up at the victor, standing there solemnly, waiting patiently for the fallen King to come to terms with his defeat.

“Have I... been bested?” he asked with a whimper.

The Champion looked down on the man with pity and sadness, he dropped his spear and before it even reached the ground it had turned to dust. He wouldn't be needing it any longer. He slowly walked over to the King and towered over the man. In comparison, the King seemed to grow smaller and smaller.

“Yes, you have been bested. Your armies have been routed, your country lays in ruin and your people revile you. You are King Blackhawke no longer.”

The man blinked, seemingly having trouble processing what had just been said to him. Instead he looks around the ruins of his throne room. He does not get up, but crawls towards a rubble pile and inspects it and then looks out the window, where foxholes, trenches and bodies lay strewn about. He shirks away from the sight of the carnage quickly and turns away, facing a wall and staring at the Champion, though to the Champion it seemed as if the King was simply looking through him to some other horrifying revelation that seemed all too real and physical.

“This-This isn't what I wanted” he pleaded desperately. The Champion listening with pain in his heart.

“No no, this wasn't supposed to happen. Why is no one smiling? Why is no one smiling in my mind?”
He scampers over to the torn down doorway entrance to the throne room. Clutching his forehead in aggravation.

“I remember once, I was surrounded by people with smiles. And now I can't remember what they look like? I need to find them. I need to find those people.”
He points an accusatory figure towards the Champion, as if he would repudiate the King's thoughts.

“I need to find those people and ask them to smile. So that I can capture it in my head”
He collapses on his hands and knees and shivers all over, and with a choked up and shaky voice, says;

“Because I've forgotten what they look like! And it's so scary, because a world without smiles is such a terrifying place. Where are they! Where are they!”

“WHERE ARE MY SMILES!”

The Champion runs over to the man on the brink of an emotional breakdown and lowers himself to the King's level and wraps his arms around him in comfort.

“sshhhh” He said to the man, who proceeded to cling and begin gasping for air.

“Where did they go!”

“sshhhh,”

“Oh Gods..”

“Oh Gods!”

“I did it didn't I? I killed all the smiles. They're all gone!”

“I butchered them! Why? Why did I do that!?

He clings tighter to the Champion, his eyes filled with an insane terror as the first pangs of guilt took hold.

“I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. Please forgive me”

Please...

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Julian entered through the White door and out the other end he enters of a closet, stumbling over the garbage that had been strewn about the dusty floorboards. He looks around the two story building. It was his summer home as a young boy, where he spent his days playing in the sand and swimming in the ocean. He remembered he would lick his lips and taste the salt when his parents called him back for Dinner. Happy memories he thought.

Now the house was decrepit, it had been abandoned for years. Luckily, the house had run on its own generator which was down in the basement. He would have to hook all that up again and probably fix the generator if he could. But right now, he didn't care about any of that, he just wanted to see the ocean one more time, and get out of this house. It was too depressing to look at in its current state.

He opened the front door, it made an annoying creaking sound and the wood had been rotting. Amazing, just another thing he would have to fix. He walked over to Mary, who was sleeping on the beach. He decided to let her be and continued walking towards the ocean, the sound of its waves crashing onto the beach had a hypnotic drawing power to it. He took off his boots and socks and threw them to the side. He grabbed his sword and unbuckled the sheathe around his waist and with as much strength as he could muster, chucked the cursed thing; wanting to be away from it for at least a little while. He then shook off his peacoat and threw off his shirt. He unbuckled his pants and finally threw aside his underwear as he walked into the ocean.

It was cold, very cold. The water merely touching his feet sent a painful chill throughout his entire body. But he kept walking into it, he could taste the salt in the air and feeling the tiny droplets catch onto his thick black beard. He shivered horribly as the water reached his genitals and finally his belly button, where he simply stood and waited form the waves to crash into him. And they did. He buried his feet into the soft dirt below him and embraced the cold pain that came as each breath stealing wave thrashed itself onto his scarred and built body.

His matted hair on his head and chest became wet and heavy as the salt water began to untangle themselves with the force of each wave, and soon his hair and beard hung low and somewhat cumbersome as it became sculpted by the ocean.
He stretched out his arms and lifted his head up to look up at the sky. Embracing the unbearable numbness he now felt from the cold.

“...Welcome home” he mumbled tiredly to himself
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Thats right! Skitter away like the rats you are!” He sneered mockingly before the black bile began to wrap itself around the sword and the air became heavy, almost impossible to breathe indicated by the remaining Angels and Demons panting and wheezing horribly.

“I can feel it... the Essence in this blade. With this salvation is at hand! Mankind... will have a future.”

A crazed high pitch laugh began to emit throughout the city, almost orgasmic in its sound, disturbing and frightening. With the very buildings vibrating and rumbling with this sick chuckle. To the remaining citizens of Loom, it looked like the Apocalypse; red fog ascending from Hell, crazed laughter and the buildings falling apart. Who would have thought that this was no Demon that caused this chaos, but a Human. Different from all the rest sure, but still a Human.

The black sludge rose to the heights of several stories to overlook the city, and with one mighty swing an entire building practically disintegrated due to its force. It looked down on the remaining Angels and Demons who had assaulted the three Angels, and with one final mental bombardment, their minds snapped and they all fell over, dead. The sludge roared:

“This is your only purpose. To be used as meat shields and thrown away. Your corpses are stepping stones to the Gods, and it is humanity's birthright to climb those stones and attain divinity with our creators! We are not merely masters of the Surface. We are Masters of the world!

Suddenly down below, a voice countered back, loud and strong.

“A little cocky today aren't we?”

The behemoth of bile looked below to see a single man, carrying a spear. With one swift motion, Judas slammed down his entire mass on the tiny spec of a man. Only to shrink back and yelp in pain as is gargantuan size crumbled back unto its normal size.

The man had not moved a foot. He had just simply stuck out his spear which apparently had been enough to drive back the bile's attack and weaken it. His hairline was receding, but still refined, his face was clean-shaven and his facial structure was strong, with a powerful jaw and cheekbone. His body was wrapped around in a simple gray robe. Though the one thing that Judas noticed was his essence, even to one such as himself. It was almost overpowering... and very familiar he knew this man-

“JESU!” he cried out in a voice that was a combination of joy, fear and rage. The man simply nodded;

“Indeed my old friend" the ancient king responded taciturnly. Twice now, twice now had Judas wrecked the world of the surface for his own demented vision of the future. And now twice he had to stop him.

Which was when Judas noticed the spear in his hand and yelped in shock.

“IT WAS YOU!? You defeated Blackhawke. But... I killed you!” it screamed in vain.

“And you killed yourself, that didn't seem to stop you.”

“Thats because the Angels stopped me from... oh they didn't”

“Indeed they did. The Council at the time made a special exception for me and prevented my soul from entering the void. Staying in Heaven”

“So the great King of Kings gets to party in heaven while the dirty Heretic and traitor gets to rot in Hell for all eternity. A nice feel good story for everybody right?”

“Judas...” Jesu said, regret and pain filled his voice and made it hollow.

“THEY HAVE GROWN SO CORRUPT THAT THEY CAN NOW DECIDE WHEN A MAN SHOULD DIE OR NOT! And you lived with these arrogant cretins for how long? You watched as our kin were crushed and oppressed by that Council and their heathen Angels! You watched as Humanity's life was sucked away by these parasites and you did nothing. They've brainwashed you into thinking they deserve to live.”

Jesu sighed “I find it ironic how you accuse me of being manipulated. Despite what you've been up to these past few years.”

Judas snickered and made a low gurgling noise from the bile that was now swirling itself around Jesu, no use trying to mentally break him. He knew It wouldn't work.

“I revealed the truth, that is all. I came to Blackhawke and gave him an epiphany. I told him how his country was nothing more than a puppet to the Council. How his grand little Kingdom wasn't as grand as it seemed. And I was right!”

Jesu in a sudden anger, swung his spear and the swirling bile jumped back in fright and reflex as Jesu's blue eyes became hard and unforgiving.

“You threw a country into war in an attempt to affirm your own sick paranoia! You broke a Man who was nothing short of honorable-

“AHAHA! Blackhawke? He broke himself when he couldn't defeat you with the power I gave him.”

“You seem to be having trouble yourself” Jesu said with a shit-eating grin.

The infuriating roar that came forth from the bile was deafening. Heard loud and clear for miles around the City of Loom, all the remaining survivors of the City suddenly had blood slowly dripping out of their ears as they winced and tried their best to block out the noise. Only Jesu Cristo seemed unaffected and unimpressed by it.

“Is this what you've become? Throwing temper tantrums like a child? You were so much better than this. Even at the final moments of my life, I saw you as an articulate and wise man. It's a shame you've degenerated to this.”

The Bile roared as it charged towards Jesu. He readied his spear and mumbled a little saying to himself.

“Even now though. You are still my friend.”

The bile hit the spear directly, but instead of shirking back as before. It kept pressing and pushing Jesu back until he found himself slammed into a wall, which for a moment left him stunned, just enough time for the Bile to slam itself into Jesu right through the brick wall.

Jesu emerged from the rubble with a stagger and looked up as the entire building was ripped away under the grasp of the bile. Now ginormous once again, it towered over Jesu as it glared down at him as the red essence begin to swirl and fuse itself into the fluid. Forming a red sticky mass that seemed to leek a pinkish pus. Sliding and crawling through it gelatinous innards, the sword pierces the mass at the very top and is taken hold of and swung in the air. Producing a powerful wind that pushed Jesu back slightly.

“WITH THIS BLADE I WILL BLOT OUR YOUR EXISTENCE! AND THEN SALVATION FOR ALL MANKIND!”

Jesu readied his spear in a defensive stance. Just before the final swing was made, Judas made one last statement:

“and I'm sorry you will not live to see mankind prosper...”

*

Throughout the world outside of Loom, all seemed rather quiet. Especially when compared to the chaos that had taken hold of the city and was bleeding it dry. The peaceful nature of a small house on Mount Jigger overlooking Loom. All seemed serene and peaceful. But in one sword swing, that chaos would spill out and spread throughout the land.

All could see it, the sudden, blinding white light and the ear shredding explosion that followed right in the center of the City. Even on the highest peak of Mount Jigger, the sheer sound it made was an incredible display of power and violence. Then as the explosion plumed into a giant smoke cloud that covered the entire city. The shockwave came and the force behind it was incredible: trees were ripped from their roots. Doors in nearby towns were torn from their hinges and cars were thrown about in the streets.

From far away, the City of Loom looked like Dominoes with building after building collapsing without stop. With only a few in the entire city located on its outskirts managing to stay at least partly intact. The Urban center of the City however, was just rubble now, rubble and cracked pavement. Twisted metal that were once cars laid scattered and there were no bodies. They had all disintegrated without a trace of their existence. Angel, Demon, Human, it didn't matter.

All that was left was a red haze and a black bile that had returned to normal. Whatever its definition of normal was.

“Thats right! Run away like those Angels taught you! Some King you turned out to be.”

With those last, curt, unimpressive words spoken. The Red fog retreated and the bile merely evaporated, leaving no trace that it was even there in the first place. And any mental hold Judas had on any survivors was now broken. And the residents could look at in stunned silence at what their city had become.

*

Hell was in a panic. The Lords were trying to assess what had happen in the last few hours and their subjects were running amok; panicking and thinking deranged thoughts like the end times were here. Though in Judas's mind, they were perfectly right. It was here, but only for them. For Humanity, the construction of the eternal Golden age would begin implementation. The sword now laid in his hand. With a distasteful smirk, he licks his lips and begins to slowly slide the blade down his throat, feeling the steel slice the innards of his throat but become submissive to his own essence, adjusting to its new master and his will. He detected some other Essences as well. Archangels. Looks like this blade had captured a few of them... as well as... The FleshShaper. They would come in handy. And would be slaves to the dominant race. For a Human was a God in comparison to an Angel or a Demon.

Once the blade had been completely engorged inside him. With a hobbled walk he began to walk towards the Gate. It was a long walk sure, but he wanted time to enjoy this moment of victory. And to plan ahead for the future, to plan for Mankind to rise above the Heathens. And most important of all, he wanted to understand this sword, and as it laid imprisoned inside him, he would become adjusted to its power, its potential. And then, he would crush that gate once and for all.

“Oh Melody” he cackled in a wheezed and pain voice as he hobbled along in Hell like an Old man

“Lets Get to work on that Mountain shall we.”

The End?