Arcturus dragged himself up from where he knelt in the grass, cradling Vivienne’s body, what felt like an eternity later. The life had gone out of the beautiful blonde, and her hair fanned out around her head like a halo upon the ruined earth. He stared at her corpse in silence, processing the fact he had killed her. Someone he had known. Someone he had laughed with, flirted with, joked with, teased.

Someone he had cared about more than he ever realised.

He thought about the way she would surprise him with eggs and bacon after learning how they reminded him of home, walking in with scandalous dresses and scintillating corsets that tortured his male brain with the assets they highlighted. He thought about when he’d talked about preferring cool pillows to warm ones, and having cool pillows every night from that day forward. Even after Elethea had arrived.

He thought about her eyes following him, her covert hip-bumps, and the way she’d always bring him food and keep him company after an especially hard day of training. He thought about the smiles they’d shared, the fears he’d confided, and the support she’d offered; without judgement, or demand, or predicated conditions. She had wanted him, but she had never forced that upon him.

And when she had tried, he knew, she had loathed herself for it.

Arcturus lifted Perdition and walked over to one of the large slabs of stone that had been blown free when he’d smashed Vivienne into the fountain. Time was against him, he knew that, but he couldn’t leave her just… in the grass. Whatever she had done, whatever her sins, he couldn’t let that happen.

His aetherblade blazed to life and Arcturus quickly and meticulously cut a simple message into the block of stone, before placing it on the ground above her head. He bent again and took her limp hands in his, folding them over the wound in her stomach, and slipping her elegant aetherblade hilt between her cold fingers.

Then, with shaking fingers, he closed her eyes.

Arcturus rose and took a final look at the stone.

‘Here lies Vivienne Dubois,

A free woman.’

“I’ll destroy them for you.” He promised the dead woman as he collected his helmet and pulled it on. “I’ll tear every last Church Temple down, brick by brick. I swear it.”

We’ll do it together.

Acturus had long ago accepted his inner voice was a sign of madness. It didn’t matter. He agreed with it.

“Together.”

He had no time to dig a grave, nor any idea if that was what she even would have wanted. Instead he left the marker, and would let others make that decision. Arcturus looked at his minimap and noted his position, realising that during his fight with Vivienne, he had migrated close to the lake. The masked individual, as well, had been in this area. Another one of the ‘Exemplars’, as Vivienne had called them.

A glance at the mangled corpse brought a snort with it. ‘Exemplar’ indeed.

Where remorse and bitterness had marked his slaying of Vivienne, the corpse of the nameless zealot elicited only disgust, and a mild amount of pity. Nothing more. Tylariel had quite astutely trained his more visceral reactions to death out of him in his time in the Simulacrum chamber. Corpses never bothered him anymore.

He glanced back at Vivienne.

Well, almost never.

Arcturus took a moment to assess his position, pondering what to do, until a thought crashed into him with the clarity of a ringing gong — and he bared his teeth in a snarl.

“Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He cursed.

With a bare thought, he focused on the Tethers between himself and his friends — and found them right there, strong and powerful, telling him exactly where they were.

He wanted to scream in frustration at his own stupidity. He must have suppressed them along with all the other notifications and non-critical System feedback information, and in his haste he’d completely forgotten to use the system to identify their locations. Visions of Elethea being struck by Vivienne’s lightning bolt flashed through his mind in a tumult of rage and regret, and he took off immediately towards the Villa as he followed the dots on his minimap.

Anger at Vivienne’s actions, residual grief and guilt at her death, ever-building rage and loathing for the Church; and finally overwhelming concern for Elethea. She very likely should have survived the strike, but if someone had gotten to her before she recovered, she would have likely been vulnerable, even if it was only temporary. A temporary vulnerability could sometimes be all that was needed for a fatal consequence.

Arcturus raced through the smashed open doors at the entrance to the villa, leapfrogging a partially collapsed wall and entering the massive front entrance hall. Notifications and suppressed alerts still pinged urgently in his HUD, but he had no time to sort through them, and so he left them ‘minimized’ while he crossed the abandoned interior of the mansion and emerged on the other side to an open battlefield.

A shot from an aether rifle smashed into the door frame above his hard and detonated a small amount of marble as he stepped outside, startling him. He’d been trained intensely, but he definitely wasn’t a veteran. The chaos of a battlefield was still disorienting. He’d been theoretically prepared for it, but theory and practice were very different.

A sudden proximity told him one of his friends was closing in, and he turned around.

“Arcturus!”

Andy appeared out of the shadows as he called out; a dagger in his left hand and sword in his right, both dripping blood.

“Is Elethea with the others?” Arcturus demanded, waving Perdition’s hilt in his friend’s general direction.

“Yes, but we’ve got issues.”

“Issues?” Arcturus asked as relief suffused him. No mention of injuries, that meant she was at least in fighting shape.

“Adam, Danica, Caeara, and your wife or whatever she is are fighting some freaky dudes in masks, with elemental powers that are a serious pain in the ass.”

“She’s not my—” he started, before stopping with a grunt. “Let’s go.”

“Gladly.” Andy said as they moved a moment later, applying some mixture to his blades with practiced efficiency. “I’ve been managing to pick them off. Even got a level out of it, but…”

“They’re too numerous?” Arcturus enquired as they skirted the edge of the villa, hugging the side of the building and racing past decorative columns making up its outer layer roman-style.

“No, too cowardly. They’re playing the hedgewall and running the moment we properly engage them, then pushing for distance around the perimeter. It’s infuriating.”

“It’s a tactic, Andy.”

“Coward’s tactic.” He grumbled stubbornly.

Normally Arcturus might have smiled, even cracked wise.

Not this night.

Not this night. His subconscious agreed.

“Where are Tylariel and Tiberius?”

“Tylariel told me to leg it when I saw her—” a half-lie, but an innocent one “—and raced off to confront some freaky looking dude in armour. Judging by the aetherblade, I’d say it was another Archon.”

“Or an Inquisitor.” Arcturus said dispassionately. “And Tiberius?”

“Inqui—? Sure, okay.” Andy shook his head. “As for gramps, he’s managing the defenses I think. Those wolves and stuff are his power at play. If he dies, I think the sentinel statues will shut down — and they’re really useful.”

Two white-liveried Church soldiers appeared in their path abruptly, skulking around the corner with their guns raised. Upon spotting the pair, they shouted in a mix of anger and fear and Arcturus acted as Andy instinctively stepped behind his armoured body. His [Telekinesis] was drawn forth and he erected a simple film of force between himself and the men ahead of him, holding it in front of him like a barely-there shield of shimmering transparent energy as he charged. He had confidence his Bulwark could weather their attacks, but the chance he might be wrong compelled him to choose caution.

A glance at his Mana levels updated him sufficiently: 1,037 / 2,307

Blue bolts of energy slammed repeatedly into the shield as Arcturus ran towards the pair of men, fizzling harmlessly with a bare tickle for his mana reserves. It cost more to maintain the shield than it did to disperse the aether rifle fire. He understood, in that moment, the terror regular people must feel at the power of fully-trained Archons.

It was a fear he’d experienced, witnessing Beowulf and Fortunis.

The moment he closed to where he could see the whites of their eyes, the shield was dispersed and Arcturus felt rifle fire score his armour, washing over the Bulwark with fizzling hiss-cracks and doing little to no perceivable damage to the enchanted plate. Perdition blazed to life in his right hand, and both men visibly blanched and turned to flee.

Too late. Too slow.

His blade reaped them as if they were bundles of wheat, separating their heads from their shoulders in two quick arm movements. Arcturus was already deactivating the sword and racing past their corpses before their heads hit the floor, Andy coming out from behind his silhouette with a glance back at the corpses, then to Arcturus.

“I’m fine.” Arcturus said flatly.

“You don’t seem fine.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Arc—…”

“Let it go, Andy.” He growled in warning, and his friend frowned.

Arcturus ignored him as they finally cleared the Villa and emerged into the hedged-off area to the west of the main building, spying their friends through the faintly burning archway into the interior of the hedge-protected private garden Tylariel liked to maintain. It had been her mother’s, she’d told Arcturus. Her pride and joy, and Tylariel’s in turn.

The garden was burning.

A pang of sadness gripped him at the sight, but Arcturus had no time to ruminate on the symbolic nature of such a peaceful thing lit aflame. Instead he advanced to where he could see his companions, and ignited Perdition with an announcing flare of brilliant white energy, tempered by void black that was poignant within the firelight surrounding them.

His companions were hunkered down behind a high garden wall, exchanging magical volleys with an unknown number of enemies beyond it. He could see Adam with his sword in his right hand and his staff in his left, the blackwood focus’ top-mounted ruby shining with mana as he channeled spells through it. Elethea stood beside him, ducking up from behind the wall to fire off crackling balls of solarfire where able before taking cover again.

Caeara was hunkered down with Danica a little to the right, firing off shots from an aether rifle wherever a gap in enemy shots or magical attacks appeared, her face stained with blood from an earlier injury that had likely since been healed.

A bolt of lightning flared out from the other side of the garden and arced towards Arcturus, only to be dispersed against a shield of brilliant white light as Danica pointed her halo-topped staff at him. Her [Celestial Shield] skill at play was a wonderful thing, and on top of that, he knew it refunded up to half the spent Mana based on damage mitigated; a karmic reward for defending others at the expense of her own vulnerability.

Arcturus jogged forwards and joined the others behind the wall, nodding to those that saw him.

“You’re late!” Elethea teased, Adjudication on her hip. “What happened to Vivienne?”

“That can wait.” He said tersely. “What about you, are you—?”

“I was hurt, but my elemental armour absorbed most of the damage. Danica and the others found me and I came with them here after she patched me up. Now, Vivienne?”

“I killed her.” He replied, keeping his voice steady.

Elethea smiled at him sadly. She understood.

He felt his heart swell for her in that moment.

“Wait, you did what?!” Andy demanded as he crouched down behind the wall.

“She was a sleeper agent for the Church, wasn’t she?” Adam asked.

Arcturus just nodded.

“Wait, what?!” Caeara demanded as she came over, ducking behind a gardening wall.

“Later.” Arcturus said as he waved it off. “How many are left?”

“Elethea killed two with [Solarian Swiftness], but her powers aren’t as effective at night. The three over there—”

Another crackling bolt of lightning interrupted Adam, deflected at the last second by the Battlemage’s [Mana Shield].

“—are still being stubborn about things, though.” He finished as if nothing had happened.

“Danica, can you help my mana regeneration?” Arcturus asked as he walked forwards, towards the three remaining Exemplars across the way.

“Not for about five minutes, and I can’t shield anyone or be interrupted while I prepare the—”

“Do it, please.” Arcturus cut her off. “Adam, take over defensive casting. Andy, go dark and flank wide. Elethea, make sure we aren’t flanked. Caeara, the moment one of them is exposed, fill them with rifle shots. You’ll know when.”

“...Arcturus, are you alri—?”

“Yes.” Arcturus said, cutting Danica off.

“Okay.” Adam said before anyone else could say anything. “On your mark, then, Arcturus.”

“Elethea?” Arcturus asked, turning to the Highblade Heiress, who was staring at him with something between pride and naked desire.

“Hm?”

“When this is all over, let’s talk. About the future.”

Her eyes widened a little, and then she smiled with savage joy. “Okay.”

“Ready, Adam?”

“Call it.”

“Now!”

Arcturus vaulted over the wall and held Perdition out to the right and down as he’d been taught, sprinting across the uneven ground towards where the Exemplars were hunkered down. Aether rifle fire and spells flew at him within moments, lighting up the space between them in coruscating radiance. Peals of thunder and hiss-cracks of firing aether rifles filled his ears, but Arcturus ignored it all and put faith in his companions.

They did not disappoint.

He only hesitated for a second as the lightning smashed into Adam’s [Mana Barrier] spell, dissipating across it in pulses of light as the aether rifle shots came next: Punching against the faintly shimmering projection and rippling it, but doing no more than that. The spell grew more taxing the longer Adam had to hold it, he knew, and grew even worse with distance. His friend had a ludicrously large mana pool, but even the hundred metres to the Exemplars would be a massive strain for him.

His Tether to Andy informed him of the Mageslayer’s presence, racing around to flank from the right as instructed, while Caeara covered him with shots from her rifle; forcing the Exemplars to cover as they smashed against the wall they were using as cover. The moment Arcturus drew within ten metres of their cover, he pulled on his [Telekinesis] and extended his left hand out, tightening it into a fist as he forced a set of psychic clamps to latch onto an Exemplar hefting their rifle for another shot.

The zealot shouted something unintelligible as his arms were pulled spread eagle, and then Arcturus snarled and wrenched his left arm up and to the right; draining almost 150 points of his remaining mana to fling the maskateer into the air. True to her word, Caeara’s rifle hissed seconds later and the Exemplar screamed as his body was riddled with superheated bolts of aether.

Arcturus had already dismissed the soldier at the moment of the toss, and the sound of their body smashing into pottery and grass registered only distantly to his focused mind. The other two Exemplars had drawn swords and activated some sort of coating on them as he closed, encasing the weapons in localised barriers of raw aether. Most likely, it was to allow them to duel with Perdition.

“Die, Heretic!” One of them shouted.

“You first.” Andy snarled from behind them, appearing at the same moment and slamming two serrated daggers into the zealot’s sides, in the same instance as Arcturus vaulted over the damaged garden wall and slammed blade-to-blade into the remaining Exemplar.

From there it devolved into a messy melee between Arcturus and his target, while Andy danced around the wounded Exemplar and worked to finish them off.

A wide and wild slash from the ather-wrapped sword sparked off of Arcturus’ left gauntlet and he dropped low, coming up with an elbow strike that caused his opponent to stumble and wheeze. Not wasting time, Arcturus held Perdition aside and gripped the man with his left gauntlet, lifting him off the ground by the throat. When they swung their blade, Arcturus casually deflected it and then cut their hand off with a reversal of the aetherblade’s direction.

The Exemplar screamed.

“If you want to live,” Arcturus said coldly, “you’re going to answer my questions. I know how you zealots are, so if you try to preach at me, I’m going to curse you. Not even your gods will be able to save you from me.” He threw the soldier to the ground and slammed him down with a boot as they tried to rise, holding Perdition where they could see it; eyes wide behind their white mask. “This sword is named Perdition. Those reaped on its edge are added to its power. See the white light? Those are the Souls of the Damned. Do you want to join them?”

The harsh tang of urine filled the air, as he felt his Charisma warp his words.

Doubt and self-recrimination surged up within, and he forced them back down angrily. His innocence and naivety were an impediment, and he was not about to let his own moral centre betray him to the machinations of the Church. He couldn’t fight them, truly fight them, if he retained any sense of compassion for those in its service. Geas or no Geas, Vivienne would have killed him if he hadn’t killed her. He would set the rest of the Inquisitors free, as well, in memory of who Vivienne should have been allowed to be. Of the life that had been torn from her at infancy.

He’d give justice to them all. Every. Last. One.

We can’t let any of them live.

“Who is leading this attack?” He asked, wrapping himself in his cold rage.

“I can’t—!”

Arcturus casually stabbed Perdition into the Exemplar’s right shin, eliciting a blood-curdling scream of pain.

“Who is leading this attack?” He asked again. The Tethers told him his friends were converging, but he focused on the Exemplar as Andy watched nervously.

“L-Lord Inquisitor Saemund. His faith is pure! You’ll never be able to—!”

Perdition slowly slid through the flesh connecting the Exemplar’s foot to their mutilated shin. “I said no preaching.” Arcturus replied levelly, suppressing his pang of guilt and horror at his own actions.

The Exemplar whimpered as Arcturus felt a hand slap against his armour, and his Mana Reserves’ recharge rate kick into overdrive. The hand remained, telling him Danica was focusing on channelling as the others grouped loosely around the scene.

“Why is Leon Fortunis here?”

“W-We heard about the Heretic Rubastra’s plans!”

“What plans?”

“The Titus Simulacrum! The Abomination!”

Adam stepped forwards. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend, Heretic! We knew Rubastra had descended into near-Apostasy, but the Cardinal Sin was unforgivable!” The Exemplar’s head twisted towards where Perdition hovered, and he adjusted his tone. “The evidence was damning. The Seer confirmed it!”

“Seer—?”

A scream of terror sounded from nearby, and Arcturus whipped his head around in confusion, until Caeara gasped. “Look!” She cried, pointing to the sky.

He looked, and was momentarily baffled by what he was seeing.

Three people in hooded scarves and thick full-wrapped cloaks were descending towards the ground via what looked to be parachutes, except they were made of clouds. He took in the sight with sheer, unbridled shock until the trio landed, one of them — staggering as they made landfall — face planting immediately and all but hugging the ground as the clouds seemed to just… disperse.

A moment of silence followed as the three new arrivals exchanged tense looks with Arcturus’ group, and then the tallest of them abruptly stepped forwards. “Voltaire!”

The familiarity of the voice stunned Arcturus for a moment, and the Exemplar noticed the slackening of his boot, trying desperately to wriggle free. In response, Arcturus slammed Perdition through their shoulder to pin them in place, drawing another blood-curdling shriek from their throat which he ignored. The action was horrifying, in a way, but he had reached a level of focus that forbade any merciful weakness. He couldn’t punish the Church if he allowed himself to be prey to his old empathic weaknesses.

Brick by accursed brick.

“I knew it was you, Voltaire!” Leon Valoris said, tearing off his hood and scarf. “Your plot ends here!”

“Wow, that was dramatic.” Andy said derisively. “Did you practice that in front of your mirror, Simba?”

“In front of my—? I am not speaking to you!”

“So get a room with your cousin and figure it out together.”

Behind Leon, the second person — wrapped tightly in an identical cloak — helped the third of their number back to their feet.

“What does Jeseria have to do with this?” Leon demanded. “If you hurt her—!”

“He’s talking about me.” Arcturus said with another flare of anger, unconsciously pressing down harder on the Exemplar’s chest. “He’s talking about me, Leon.”

Both of Leon’s companions seemed to freeze as he spoke.

“You? You’re nothing! You’re a monster who—!”

“He is your rightful King!” Elethea said, stepping forwards and pointing her now-ignited Aetherblade at the Honorum Heir angrily. “You will speak to him with respect, Leon Valoris!”

“Elethea…” Leon said with a stunned expression. “Elethea, you need to come with us quickly, before my Father and the Church—!”

“I am exactly where I belong!” She shot back. “At my Prince’s side!”

Leon’s expression twisted with a level of pain that surprised Arcturus.

“She’s not going anywhere with you, usurper!” Caeara shouted.

“Usurper?!” Leon demanded as he turned to Caeara. “I am the true heir to the Val—!”

“You are the legal heir.” Adam corrected firmly. “By circumstance, and not by right.”

“You must be Adam.” Leon said skeptically. “Perhaps you are not as intelligent as I was led—”

“Excuse you—?!” Danica started, before falling silent as Arcturus snapped up Perdition.

Leon tensed.

“Leon Valoris Honorum, by right of Blood and weight of lineage, I challenge you to single combat for the mantle of Crown-Prince of the Valarian Dominion. Yours are unfit shoulders to carry the weight of your position, and I claim it by my right of birth and station.”

Behind Leon, the member of his party that had face planted was tugging on the sleeves of the second urgently, drawing them closer and gesturing frantically towards Arcturus. The pair almost seemed to be arguing.

Leon’s head retracted in surprise, and he truly looked confused, opening his mouth to retort. “By what right do you make that claim? You aren’t even a real person!”

“That’s right, your Highness!” The Exemplar shrieked. “This creature, this son of a feckless apostate and diseased whore is—!”

The Exemplar cut off as he started to scream.

Arcturus let [Voidfire] ripple down his boots and spread across the Exemplar’s chest, bubbling and consuming their clothes and flesh like acid and spreading up to eat at their neck and mask. Leon watched in horror, and Arcturus’ friends — all except Elethea and Adam — stepped away quickly to avoid the flames as the Exemplar was eaten alive by the corrosive, unyielding incarnation of True Oblivion.

“V-Voltaire!” Leon said, looking like he might be ill. “What manner of heretical mag—?!”

“My name—” Arcturus seethed, reaching up to tear off his helmet “—is Arcturus Regis Valoura!”

“NO!” A woman’s voice cried in denial, the taller of Leon’s two companions ripping off their robes to reveal a set of stunning silver plate armour, and hood and scarf discarded to let a mane of onyx hair fly free. Arcturus’ eyes widened.

“Amélie.” He said, red eyes meeting the Valkyrie’s blue ones. A dozen different thoughts passed through his mind in that moment, each of them cascading over the other as he felt an upsurge in emotional chaos, driven forward by the face of the girl he’d adored since his last years in elementary school.

In the depths of her gaze, however, he found no reflection of his relief.

He found only rage.

“HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS FACE!”

“Amélie, wait—!” Danica shouted as she stepped forward.

It didn’t matter.

The Valkyrie summoned her spear, and as wings of brilliant gold unfolded from her armoured back, she charged.