“Stand back, boy.” Diarmuid raised his hand.

Diarmuid stepped through the doors with his hands ready. Inside the hall were rows of chairs on each side, and the altar rested at the end. The stone walls were cold, and so were the floor, the chairs, and the air. The red moon peered through the windows, lighting the eery center altar, covered by fabric and surrounded by mosaics of saints. Specs of dust loomed ominously in the stuffy air. The space was vast for a church but cluttered with obstacles. The smell of blood filled the air while bodies covered the floor with red splattered on the walls, floor, everywhere. It was a massacre. Hundreds of bodies twisted with fear and anguish, betrayed by the building they thought was a sanctuary. Diarmuid did not look away, however morbid display it was. He was more concerned by the age of question of whodunnit.

“Boy, go to the major and tell him to come here immediately.”

“Okay.” Orel left.

Orel ran to James, who was occupied with the telepath. He wrote a message for the telepath to send to the four platoons, including the Duke.

The basic method of using a telepath is either writing or explaining the message you want to deliver and to whom, and once it arrives, the telepath either writes it down or says it out loud if necessary. The rhythm is essential, as you can only send out one message at a time, which means you need to repeat it for every telepath you send it to. When a telepath gets occupied with a message, it is immediately cut off if another message arrives before it has the time to process the previous one. Transmitting a message is instantaneous, but it is versed out in the user’s head as if reading a letter, meaning they need some time to decode it depending on the length of the message. The telepaths are trained to read them faster and only use the ability when necessary to avoid cutting off notes and clogging up the system. For this reason, the army adopted code language to shorten the messages.

“Mister Major, your friend, sent me here that you should come and take a look at the church.”

“Wait a moment.” James put down his pen and paper. “Is something wrong?”

“We opened the church doors, and there was this horrible smell inside. He looked inside and asked you to go there.”

“I am currently in the middle of something. “Let Diarmuid know that I will come as soon as I am done with this.”

Diarmuid closed the doors behind him and looked around, checking all corners. The disturbing silence started to get on his nerves. He knew that if they locked the doors from the inside, whoever did this must still be inside. For what they had done, Diarmuid was sure to avenge the dead.

“Quit hiding. I know you’re here. I may be on duty, but I won’t spare you from what’s coming when I find you.”

Diarmuid walked through the middle between all the chairs with slow and careful steps, monitoring his surroundings. Nothing moved or made a sound. It seemed like whoever was hiding was thinking that they could get the jump on him, which only made Diarmuid more annoyed. As it appeared that no one would come to him, he had to be the one instead. He passed many bodies stuffed between the seats until he ascended to the altar. It was barren, except for the cloth that seemed to cover something. Diarmuid was hesitant about what to do, as it looked like to be in a shape of a person. It was unmoving but seemed to hold an essential role in how someone placed it in the middle. The cloth was clean, almost too perfect compared to the rest of the church. Someone had put it there for a purpose. Again, whodunnit.

His ears picked up the tiniest amount of skittering and turned around to face it. His reaction was on point, but too late. A long arm poked Diarmuid with its razor-sharp nails in hopes of piercing his flesh. The long nails punctured his reinforced suit effortlessly to clear the path to his guts. The gaunt white beast smiled wide as it stared down at Diarmuid’s eyes.

“Stupid human! Scream for Ama-dan!”

That was until the grotesque creature felt something block its way. The hand was crushed like it had hit a brick wall and became stuck like an ax to a tree stump. Unfortunately, Ama-dan used much strength for that blow, which transferred back to his fingertips.

“So you’re that boggart.” Diarmuid trapped its arm.

Unknownst to ama-dan, Diarmuid was most fitted for hand-to-hand combat. The trained soldier moved with machine-grade efficiency. He immediately lifted his arm while gripping Ama-dan’s hand and crushed it with his elbow. Ama-dan hissed and howled as the bone broke to splinters. Ama-dan immediately cut the broken arm off with its claws and backed off. The wound bled with dark, foul-smelling blood that splattered over Diarmuid’s suit. Diarmuid took out the hand and casually threw it on the floor, like how James threw away his used cigarettes.

“What? Did you get scared?” Diarmuid asked.

“Don’t mock me! Ama-dan will gouge out your eyes!” Ama-dan was visibly pissed like a cornered animal. Its fur rose, and it showed its ugly teeth at him.

“Then give me your best shot.” Diarmuid took out his combat knife.

Ama-dan bounced at Diarmuid. It managed to dodge the knife and scratch his arm so that the uniform tore off. Underneath, however, were no scars whatsoever. Instead, Diarmuid had filled his skin with tattoos of red runes that circled the arm, still glowing softly from the impact. Ama-dan could sense that they weren’t merely a decoration. If they were protecting Diarmuid before, he must be hiding many more underneath his clothes.

“Body full of runes! Marks of an erilaz.” Ama-dan said.

“So even a beast like you recognize these marks.”

“Ama-dan is smart. There is always a catch.”

Ama-dan knew that runes always have rules, where their power multiplied the stricter the restrictions. It had already solved the first mystery, which is the effect. Each set of runes correlates to the body part they are written to, reading out like a poem to those who understand them. Instead of activating them manually, the runes would forcefully extract mana from the body to start the spell once they encountered a possibly harmful attack. This was undoubtedly an exhausting enchantment, to the point others would call it a curse. Once the runes are carved into one’s body, the user cannot remove them. The procedure is painful and must be done carefully, or the runes might prove hazardous, like a DIY electrical outlet connecting with the water pipe. This is why only a master erilaz can tattoo runes to themselves.

Diarmuid tried attacking, but Ama-dan could jump out of the way, snatching the chopped-off hand in the progress. The creature’s agility seemed to be its most dangerous perk, while Diarmuid had to try and match his reaction speed for its attacks. He knew that one or two good strikes would be the end of it, but the problem of landing them is a different story. While thinking, Diarmuid noticed how Ama-dan stuck its arm back in place and could see it re-attaching itself. The joints snapped back in place, and soon the arm stretched and gripped like it was never gone.

“What say you now, erilaz? You can’t kill Ama-dan.”

“I was just thinking how well your tongue will polish my shoes after I rip it off.”

“Stupid human."

Diarmuid now knew that a few strikes wouldn’t help. He would have to make one lethal blow the creature wouldn’t recover from. Ama-dan had no trouble evading Diarmuid’s strikes, retreating to the shadows, jumping over the church chairs, or hanging from the ceiling. Diarmuid did not want to waste his stamina, so he switched to defense. The fight was at a stand-still, as either had no clear way of doing mortal damage to another. Diarmuid's best move was to break some of Ama-dans limbs or slash its eyes, but both were hard to accomplish against such an agile creature.

Ama-dan was thinking as well. After some observation, he realized that Diarmuid’s head had no runes, which would mean it had no protection. Without further thought, Ama-dan jumped and slashed with his claws. Diarmuid had to block them with his arm and went in for a stab. The blade sunk deep into Ama-dans chest, yet the beast endured and tried gouging Diarmuid’s eyes out as planned. Its fingers stretched to poke them like balloons, and when they neared the surface, they stopped. The nails broke off, and the joints bent over. Simultaneously, something beneath Diarmuid’s vermillion hair and sideburns lit up. Ama-dan could not have known that Diarmuid had tattooed his face and head, only for his hair to cover up the runes later. Confident in his ability, Diarmuid did not even blink but took hold of his knife and twisted it around. Ama-dan had to jump away as it had misjudged Diarmuid’s ability. While Diarmuid was feeling good having outplayed the creature, his efforts were cut short as the wound on Ama-dan’s chest closed like a self-stitching cloth, and the deadly fingernails grew back like shark’s teeth. The only thing accomplished was further exhaustion.

Suddenly light escaped inside as the doors opened. The squeaks of the hinges echoed throughout the church, interrupting the two. Ama-dan was wary, as it knew the person most likely was not his master. Diarmuid was hopeful that help had come, but instead, it was Orel who had no idea what waited for him inside. In addition to not knowing what was going on, Orel had opened the doors that Diarmuid wanted to keep shut. Now the creature had the means to escape.

“Huh?!” Orel noticed the creature sloughing before him.

Ama-dan saw the opportunity and took it. Before Diarmuid could move, the creature had taken Orel as a hostage, tapping his jugular with its fingertips. Ama-dan thought it would be easier to escape that way without needing to fight its way out. It could very well kill the child now, which Ama-dan contemplated doing sooner or later.

“You scum!” Diarmuid saw the despicable act.

“Don’t move, or the boy dies.” Ama-dan threatened with its sinister smile.

“Humph, fine.” Diarmuid lifted his hands.

Orel held his breath as the creature smelled foul with a pungent odor of rotten eggs. Every breath it puffed between its dark yellow teeth smelled of rot and decay like an old corpse. Orel’s heart pounded rapidly, and a cold sweat flowed on his face. He looked at Diarmuid, who seemed to be going along with Ama-dan’s orders. Orel did not know what to do or if he would survive. The sharp ends of the nails made shallow wounds to his neck, and the cold hands that pressed against him made him shiver. Though he wanted to escape, Orel knew one wrong move would slash his throat open.

Ama-dan shuffled closer to the door, ready to escape the predicament. Diarmuid wouldn’t want it to get away, but he was out of options. Without any opening in sight, Diarmuid could only wait. He was waiting for someone to appear as soon as he was ready with his business. The only question was if he would make it in time. The creature was on full alert, getting scared by minor things like rats eating the corpses. Slowly but steady, Ama-dan closed in on the doors. It still wanted to get a bit further out to escape to the woods and disappear into the fog. With the first step outside, Ama-dan heard someone approaching.

“Stop right there!” A voice shouted from the outside.

Ama-dan turned and saw James pointing at him. It smiled as he had not even drawn his weapon. The situation had not changed at all, it thought.

“Stay there!” Ama-dan yelled as it turned Orel towards James.

“You just broke my warning. Next time you will be fined.” James said.

“Ama-dan does not care about rules.” Ama-dan sneered at James.

“You are not allowed to harm that boy.”

“Not even just a little bit?” A smile crept on Ama-dan’s face as one of its nails scratched Orel’s neck.

“You ignored my second warning.” James took out his cigarette pack.

“What are you going to do?”

James took a good while to light himself a cigarette. He seemed not to be bothered by the hostage situation, infuriating Ama-dan. It was as if James had already won and wanted to smoke one just for the kicks. Diarmuid felt easy now that he heard that James had finally come. The cavalry has arrived.

“You are already fined.” James puffed a cloud of smoke. “And now that you have a fine, I can apprehend you if you choose not to comply.”

Ama-dan noticed red stamps on their hands and legs. It didn’t know when they had appeared. They held the symbol of the ADF, a wide stone tower. A supple sense of dread fell on Ama-dan that what the human said helped power, and now he felt his own had gone away. Ama-dan’s magic had been sapped away, leaving it completely defenseless. While still having a hostage, Ama-dan was no longer in control but at the utter mercy of James. What he would say next could very well make his escape impossible unless Ama-dan followed James’ orders. The white beast anxiously waited as James used up the cigarette and squished it under his shoe.

“Who is your master?”

Ama-dan was ready for anything but that question. It would mean betraying his master, but failing to answer would mean disobeying James and facing the consequences of his spell. Neither option was tempting. Ama-dan was bound by more than loyalty. His master was the owner of the house Ama-dan inhabited as a brownie, and no one cannot sever that connection, not even Ama-dan. His master even named him, granting him power. Ama-dan had fulfilled his duties, but he didn’t want to die yet. The hatred inside his soul would not burn out until he could see the fruits of their work. It was a hard choice, but Ama-dan finally made the decision.

“No, Ama-dan won’t say it.”

“Then I will apprehend you."

The marks on Ama-dan lighted up and got forced together. Its arms twisted around the back and legs locked together. Orel got free from the grip as its hands could no longer hold him. Ama-dan fell to the ground, defeated and humiliated.

“Do not bother resisting. Those binds will not come off unless I want to.”

Ama-dan stayed quiet. It lay on the ground, accepting its fate.

“It’s been a while since I saw your Penalty Court work.” Diarmuid stepped out of the church.

“I do not appreciate how well that name stuck with everyone.” James shook his head. “What happened here?”

“This thing murdered everyone inside the church,”

“It’s the same boggart from the cave,” Orel said.

“I see. So there were no survivors?”

“None and its master wasn’t there.”

“This leaves us with a lot of paperwork.”

“What do we do with this?” Diarmuid kicked the creature.

“You tell me. My spell cannot force anyone to talk.”

“I can try.” Diarmuid proposed.

“I did not know you had that sort of spell.”

Diarmuid bent his knee and looked down at the ugly white beast. He took one of the fingers and broke it off. Ama-dan shivered and screamed like a butchered animal while Diarmuid threw the finger aside.

“What are you doing?” James heard the snap.

“What? It has no rights.”

“That is straight-up animal abuse.”

“Major, this isn’t a natural creature. it serves no purpose.” Diarmuid snapped another joint.

“But it’s suffering,” Orel said.

“So were those people. It didn’t care, and neither should I.” Diarmuid finished one hand.

“Diarmuid, it will not tell anything,” James crouched.

“That’s not the point.” Diarmuid crushed its whole arm.

He gripped his fist and was ready to punch the creature’s head. His face was full of anger, yet his eyes sank to emptiness. He might have felt sadness, yet there was no room for tears. Diarmuid understood the meaningless of his actions, but he could not forgive Ama-dan. However clever or powerful he may be, ill beings like Ama-dan will always slip away and murder innocent people. Diarmuid activated another ring of runes in his hand. These weren’t meant for defense, however.

“Please, no more.” Ama-dan pleaded.

“Diarmuid, stop!”

“Don’t try your spell on me!” Diarmuid glanced angrily at James.

Before James could issue another warning, Diarmuid made a straight right to Ama-dan’s face. Lacking remorse, Diarmuid hit it repeatedly, with a red light following every punch delivered. Each strike quaked the earth with a horrifying beat. He beat the head to a pulp until nothing remained but a red stain and fragments of bone. The ground below shattered to pieces with each punch. The red glow intensified for a moment as the beast’s skull gave in. Its body twitched eerily for a while until falling limb.

Diarmuid stood up and looked at his bloodied hand, feeling as empty as when it was still clean.

“It’s dead.” James noticed his cuffs disappearing.

“You killed it.” Orel stepped back.

Diarmuid said nothing to them. The anger on James’ face grew more and more with each moment passing.

“Is this supposed to be the model people should look up to?” James asked.

“We are not saints, Major. Our work is to keep others safe.” Diarmuid cleaned his hands.

“We do not spill blood to stop it from spilling. That’s not how this works. We need to stand above those who kill, not join them. If we do not follow the rules, we are nothing more than a rampaging militia!”

“Then what are you going to say to the families of the victims? That you successfully incarcerated the perpetrator? Does that provide comfort to them?”

“They will be given appropriate aid to pay for their funeral and grief counseling.”

“Is that we’re for? To give money to those who we couldn’t save because we couldn’t stop the rotten bastard that killed them?”

“Law is justice, fair and equal. It treats all the same.”

“Is that what you believe in or what you’re told?”

“Do not question my morals, captain.”

“The law that you say is fair is but an excuse to give power to people above it. Thanks to the laws you hold above your head, my people had to leave their land, and when we returned, our sacred forest was but an industrial zone, and our great runestones moved to a landfill. And for what? So that Duke of yours could sit on top of a larger pile of money?”

“You and other druids were given proper compensations for the land and even new land to settle in. Gaunnes has forest to spare even if your tribe was ten times the size. It was only a matter of awkward placement on your part.”

“Do you have any idea what that forest meant for us? We buried our ancestors in that ground, and their souls inhabited the trees that grew from it. Now my great grandfather’s spirit is somewhere there as a dinner table.”

“You wouldn’t understand. We needed that spot to grow our industry. The government holds the right to purchase land if needed, giving compensation to the landowners. Your people are still granted annual funds, so what is your problem? Besides, your generation was never born on those lands.”

“Of course, we weren’t. I was born in the ghettos of Morbail, where the air is full of industrial fumes.”

“You are still barking at the wrong tree here. I had nothing to do with it.”

“You government dogs are all the same. Either you turn a blind eye or go along with it.”

“Can’t you see how you contradict yourself? If you detested the government so much, why did you enlist in the first place?”

“I wouldn’t have even thought about doing it if I had any other choice. My family is sick because of those fumes and we already use most of the funds for preventive treatments.”

“That is more of the reason why you would need to suck it up and do as you are told. As long as you are part of the system, you are supposed to follow its rules.”

“Your laws can’t stop injustice, and your spell couldn’t stop me. What are you supposed to prevent with that?”

“Your justice is as flawed as mine. Your preference does not matter in the eyes of the law. If it weren’t for your tribe’s lands, many would have been left jobless, and the economy would have never recovered from the market crash.”

“So even you know it’s flawed.”

“Good point, for once. Yes, it is, but it is the best option, and I will follow it as long as I see it that way. Society does not depend on individual opinions but on the united benefit of all. You need to see the forest for the trees, Diarmuid.”

“If that’s what you think, then there’s nothing more to say.”

“For once, I agree.”

“Major,” Diarmuid took a pause. “After all of this is over; I’m quitting the ADF.”

“Suit yourself.” James tried lighting a cigarette, but his lighter wouldn’t work. “Make sure not to regret it.”

Somber silence fell between the two. James would not take long to walk back to the telepath. Orel was unsure who to follow, but he instinctively chose to walk behind James. The quietness was deafening, drying up their throats and tensing their tongues. James tried over and over to light his cigarette until finally giving up and snapping it in two. He could only sigh, but he would not shake the weights on his shoulders with the breaths.

Down in the cave, Slacume had guided Angus and his platoon to the entrance of the mysterious cavern. He had just informed James that he had arrived there and was ready to head in. Firstly, a figure was sitting in the center of the room with a long polearm in his lap.

“Isao!” Slacume stepped forwards.

“I see you have returned with some company.” Isao stood up.

“Are you alright, sir?” Angus asked.

“I am well, thank you. It is good that you have come. The ritual seems to have begun, and I did not have enough power to stop it.”

“Lieutenant! BMR is going off the charts here!” An officer said.

“Stay focused on the task at hand. You two get out from here, and we will handle the rest.” Angus said.

“Okay.” Slacume started walking.

“I see my assistance is not needed,” Isao said.

Slacume and Isao walked next to the soldiers, seeing their anxious and fearful faces. Neither the soldiers nor Slacume knew what situation they were dealing with. Slacume could recognize the similar feeling he had, though it coming from professionals made him feel a bit uneasy, similarly to how a patient would react when a doctor looks at their lab results with worrying eyes.

The platoon finally reached the ritual site. It had changed from when Orel and others left it. The troops circled it carefully, observing everything they could without direct contact. The blackened blood in the grooves shone with dark red light, creating ominous shadows all around. Noxious black fumes emerged from the hole, like darkness itself was escaping. The troops circled it carefully, observing everything they could without direct contact.

“Is this a seal?” A soldier asked.

“The pattern is different. It seems more like a summoning circle.” Angus said.

“What the hell made this?”

“It’s a little rough, but whoever made this knew what they were doing.”

“How many boggarts could they have sacrificed to this? What are they trying to summon?” Another soldier looked around the bodies.

“We don’t have time to try and answer that. Did we have explosives?” Angus asked.

“Yes, sir!”

“Bring them here. We don’t have much time.”

“Yes, sir!” A soldier ran out of the room.

“Um, sir. Is it just me, or does this look like a piece of a ritual circle?” A soldier inspected the symbols.

Rituals are enchantments where a mage either carves or draws a pattern that activates the described effect once applied with mana. Ritual circles vary in size and power, dictated by the number of rings the spell needs. Ritual circles have no limitation on distance as long as they are symmetrical. The grander the spell, the more there are. Rituals can often need specific ingredients to function, but they can operate on pure mana alone. Due to the connection to paganism and its sacrificial nature, ritual circles are banned without a license or official approval.

“Not only that but doesn’t this part indicate this circle is the receiving end?”

“Wait, does this mean that all of the reports we have are connected?”

“What the hell are they trying to summon here?” Angus stood up.

A robed man shuffled to the edge of a cliff among the fog. He looked at the town below, quiet as a mouse while the storm winds blew on the streets. He took out a dagger with his withered hands and sliced his hand. He scraped some blood with his finger from the wound and carefully drew first a circle, then four points on the back of his palm. Lastly, he drew three lines from the sigil to his index, middle, and ring fingertips. With those fingers together, the man several points in the village, each lighting up from where he had hidden a ritual circle, from the basements of houses to the waste-filled severs, they all activated. The four points on his hands lit up and drew a hypnotic figure to the center, forming the pact. His final act was to point at the southern forest, where horrible history had been slumbering for hundreds of years. The bloody lines in his hand spun wildly until all of them concentrated on a small dot in the center and disappeared. The man looked up to the sky in relief and sent a far-out message.

“The deed is finally done. Brothers, our long wish shall finally come true. Our lord will re-emerge from the earth and take his rightful place in this kingdom.”

“Yes, our brotherhood will finally serve the true king.” A voice answered soon after. “He will surely defeat the false dragon.”

The night hit its peak. The blood moon stood above all, surrounded by mist and blown by the ravaging storm. The most terrible night beckoned nearer, and those whose fate was not already sealed faced the horrors that would emerge from their flesh. Orel and those who didn’t immediately get caught in it were about to witness what would later be titled in the history books as “The dark ritual disaster.”