Following Cordan’s return to the Twilight King’s domain, he had been greeted by Rovena, Kafkë, and Dorek along with several mindless undead. The rest was a blur. Kafkë had used strange magic, something about souls if it were to be believed, to heal Raina and Alindal though they hadn’t woken up as of yet. The mindless undead carried the two and an exhausted Dorek on the way back. Once they arrived at the castle, the Twilight King had summoned Cordan for a debriefing.

He scowled up at the Twilight King who sat on his dark throne with Kafkë floating over his left shoulder. The throne room was silent as the grave except for Cordan’s breathing. Off to the side, the ominous pile of ancient bones cast a long shadow in the everlasting starlight.

Finally, the Twilight King spoke.

“You failed.”

Suppressing a surge of anger as quickly as it came, Cordan responded, “We brought back one of your people. I’d say that counts as a partial success if anything.”

“Yet the rest of my people are ashes, no doubt.”

“Yes, but your distraction left much to be desired. We retrieved your people and nearly got them past the barrier, but there was a flash of light and we were intercepted by an angel in gold with the ability to wield light. I believe it was a Justiciar.”

“And you survived? I find that hard to believe. Justiciars aren’t in the habit of leaving behind anything but ash,” the Twilight King said. He was leaning with his head resting on one hand as though bored.

“I didn’t ask you to believe anything,” Cordan shot back, keeping his voice level despite his growing irritation.

“Oh?” The Twilight King stared at Cordan with unliving eyes. Although his demeanor remained the same, a palpable aura of death settled over the room like a blanket over a bloody corpse. It was oppressive weighing down Cordan’s mind and body as they struggled to adjust. Cordan kept his eyes level and shoulders square.

Raising his chin in defiance, he said, “Correct. Your belief isn’t required. I hid using my magic so I saw everything. In addition, I have three eye witness reports to the event; one of them, Dorek, is a man from your former village. Each one will corroborate my account.”

“We shall see.” The monarch shifted his position to sit up straight in his throne. “Since he did not return with you, I assume Jack was captured.”

Cordan’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because Bohum has coveted the Twilight Key since he rose to power. Given the similarities between Jack’s blue core and the Twilight Key, he would not have let the opportunity pass him by if he sensed Jack’s presence.”

“So, you sent us out there with a target on our back?” Cordan asked, clenching his fist.

“The risks were known to me,” the Twilight King said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Well, why weren’t we informed?!” Cordan shouted. His anger momentarily blinded him to the fact that he was speaking with an S-rank World Boss— a being capable of wiping out entire cities and facing off against an S-rank raid crew. His words echoed out into the night dying off in the wake of a chilling silence that stretched on for several seconds.

“It would not have mattered.” The undead’s otherworldly eyes remained dull, unmoved by Cordan’s anger.

“What—.”

The Twilight King interrupted him. “It was irrelevant because you would have gone either way.”

Cordan took a calming breath. With his outrage leashed for the moment, he asked a question that he already knew the answer to. “What do you mean?”

“You are a smart man with the eyes of a ruler, Cordan.” Cordan tensed a bit at the Twilight King’s words. He didn’t like reminders of his past and the Twilight King’s words struck at a sore chord. “I am sure you were aware that if your group had proven useless, I would have disposed of you all. I had already planned to send your group to the temple, though, I admit, you and Jack surprised me by showing such proactivity. I was pleased that I did not have to force the matter.”

“So, we were just pawns in your game then?” Cordan’s voice matched the cold air in the room as he spoke.

“I assure you this is no game to me. Whether you succeeded in your mission or died bringing my people back, I ensured that I would have the answer I sought and my next course of action would be clear.”

“And what if we all died in the temple or Jack died somehow? What then?” Cordan asked through clenched teeth.

The Twilight King brushed the question aside. “The threat within the temple was minuscule. I had faith you could handle it, just as I have faith in Bohum’s greed. After the first lantern was destroyed, the group’s survival mattered little in the grand scheme of things since Kafkë could sense the souls in the temple. Their signature changed after the bindings were broken. I knew of Jack’s success as soon as the first lantern was destroyed.”

“For someone who said, ‘I have no interest in restoring this world if my people cannot be saved’, you seem to care little for the people, your people, who died. After talking to Dorek, I was actually starting to believe that you could be trusted.” Cordan said, his diplomatic tone long gone.

In response, the undead king chuckled though Cordan found little amusing about the situation. “Simply because their deaths were irrelevant compared to the hundreds that I will save does not mean that I do not mourn their loss. Kafkë informed me of their deaths and while tragic, it is better than having their soul consumed by the Eternal Light. As it stands, they may be reborn from the Well of Souls once Terras is restored.”

Cordan’s face went blank but his emotions were in turmoil. He wanted to draw his sigil gun and fire a shot into the Twilight King’s face; however, the fact that he had been allowed to keep his weapon in the first place spoke to how much of a threat he posed to the World Boss. How long has it been since I’ve felt this way? I’d nearly forgotten how frustrating it is having to dance to someone else’s tune.

After reaching B-rank, Cordan’s life had gotten significantly easier. The big leagues offered a lot of perks for a relic hunter; wealth, power, and prestige were a given for anyone who leveled up enough without making enemies of the wrong people. He had abandoned his old life in favor staging and overseeing raids for other relic hunters. In six years, he had only gained two levels at the lower end of B-rank, content to simply enjoy his position of safety and comfort.

If I hadn’t retired from raiding, I could’ve been at the cusp of A-rank by now, maybe even further, He thought. His mind grasped at what-ifs in response to his frustration searching for a scenario where he wasn’t so powerless in the current situation. Despite his frustration, another thought sounded off reminding him of a key factor in his decision to leave raiding behind. Or I would be dead like the others.

As frustrating as the situation was, it illustrated a point: raiding in the big leagues was just as deadly as it was profitable. Normal people stopped at C-rank for a reason. High-rank Remnant Gates were death traps for the insane and the foolhardy; a truth that Cordan was all too familiar with.

“So, now that you’ve made your lack of concern for your allies clear, where does that leave us?” Cordan asked flatly.

The Twilight King’s silver-flame eye flared up. “I care for nothing but the survival of my people and Terras. For that, only Jack is necessary which means I have no use for you or the others.”

Cordan refused to look away from the Twilight King’s gaze even as the deathly aura grew more oppressive and a chill ran down his spine. After a brief moment, the aura disappeared entirely.

“However, you did what was asked of you and returned, if barely. For this, you will be rewarded with a choice. Now that I am assured of Jack’s ability to destroy the shackles binding my people, I will take the final step in the dance between myself and Bohum. In two days, I will destroy the Bohum’s barrier, storm his Bastion, and end his miserable existence once and for all.” As he spoke, he looked out to the east. “If you wish, you may join me in rescuing your companion and restoring Terras or I can have you taken you to the eastern outpost. I am told by my scouts that the Celestial know as Ciel is traveling to the portal there and will arrive in three days’ time. I am sure that the immortal can see you to safety once you answer his questions about Jack.”

How does he know… Cordan’s eyes widened as a more important question popped into his mind. He had known Ciel would be back after learning that the man was a Celestial, but he hadn’t expected him to return so soon. Since Ciel had employed the Relic Hunter guild, Cordan assumed that he didn’t have his own raid personnel. According to the guild’s records, the fastest any entity had marshaled enough forces to take on an S-rank Remnant Gate had been the Eidos Corporation several years ago and that effort had taken them almost a week along with an absurd amount of money. It’s barely been two days and Ciel’s on his way? And why will it take him three days? Did he go somewhere other than Asylum?

Realizing the shock showed on his face, Cordan schooled his expression by taking another deep breath. He had many questions for the Twilight King; however, he doubted that he would get any answers. If Cordan were in his place, he wouldn’t answer either. By allowing them to reconnect with Ciel, he had revealed that Ciel’s presence and the information they could give him weren’t of any consequence. Yet, at the same time, the Twilight King’s confidence also meant that he would be unlikely to share any other information with them until he knew they were committed to aiding him, if at all.

Having grown weary over the course of the conversation, Cordan said, “If that’s all, then I’ll be taking my leave.”

“You may go,” The Twilight King responded, still looking to the east.

Cordan walked away pushing the doors open and taking his leave. As he traversed the dark passages to the room, he wrestled with his roiling emotions. While he planned on meeting back up with Ciel, his stomach turned at the notion of getting even mildly involved with a Celestial. The immortal rulers of Fracture had a habit of disregarding their effect on the lives of those they saw as lesser. He’d been burned before by that lot and the scars from the experience still ached.

Maybe this is some kind of punishment for giving up. For the millionth time since his retirement from raiding, Cordan remembered the faces of his past.

***

Kafkë turned to the boss after Cordan left. “You really need to learn how to talk to people, boss. You have a habit of coming across a bit heartless.”

“Kafkë?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I don’t have a heart.”

Kafkë wanted to frown but lacked the muscles or flesh to do so. “While technically true, you know what I meant.”

In response, he waved his hand dismissively. “I care not if I am loved, hated, or feared. My only concern whether or not those who serve me can be useful.”

Kafkë let the boss’s denial stand. It knew better than to argue the point. The silence stretched on for minutes until the Twilight King spoke again.

“Are you sure you will be able to connect with Jack?” he asked.

Kafkë nodded. “It’ll be no problem, a little tiring but eh, that’s life. Or undeath, I suppose.”

“And you’re sure the connection wasn’t there before?”

“Who do you think I am, boss?”

“I think about what you are and what you can do, not who you are. A sentiment you encourage and share, I might add.” The Twilight King said.

“Eh, my point stands. I know souls better than anyone and when I helped Jack awaken his World Core, his soul wasn’t connected to anything. At some point between now and then, he bound his soul to that pointy-eared fellow. I wonder if it has anything to do with his World Core.”

The boss rapped his bony fingers against the arm of his throne. “Hm, unlike Jack’s blue core, the Twilight Key was much more powerful when I found it. It could be connected to the growth process though it could just be an ability he has.”

“Maybe,” Kafkë said. “Either way, I can use the connection to get to Jack so its nature doesn’t matter.”

The boss went silent for a few seconds. “Perhaps, you should wait for the assault. Once the wall is down, I can send you in with Zandur as originally planned. It will be safer that way.”

“Kind of sounds like you’re worried about me going into the belly of the beast.”

The Twilight King turned a baleful glare on Kafkë. “My only concern is the success of your mission.”

“Of course, boss,” Kafkë replied wishing it could roll its eyes. “All the more reason for me to go. Bohum might not kill Jack but we don’t know what he might be doing in the meantime. I can monitor Jack’s condition to make sure nothing serious happens while you prepare for the assault and provide information from the inside. Once everything starts, I bust Jack out and we start the mission. Besides, Bohum will expect an attempt to free your people so he’ll have protections set in place against intrusion from the outside. That said, I doubt he’ll expect something from the inside his precious Bastion. Hell, we might even find your wife.”

Standing up, the boss said, “Very well, I will allow it, but Kafkë—.”

"I know, I know. Failure isn't an option. Don't worry, boss. I'll get them out of there alive."

"Good. I'll leave it to you then."

Kafkë caught several layers of emotion in his voice masked behind a carefully controlled delivery. Despite the many years that Kafkë had known the Twilight King, it always got the feeling that there was more to the grim figure than he ever let on. As the Twilight King started walking toward the doors, Kafkë asked, “You headed to see that lightweaver that they brought back?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know him? Seems a bit young for him to have been around during your time in the village.”

“I’ve never met him though I know of him from letters.”

“Letter? Was he some kind of big-shot?”

“No… I believe he may be my great-nephew.”

The boss stepped out of the room leaving Kafkë to stare off into the night sky. Huh. What’re the odds?