Ciel consulted his notes on the latest sigiltech experiments being conducted by his team. Before leaving Asylum, he’d stopped by his labs in Arcend. Several years had passed since he had last checked in but his researchers had made significant progress in his absence. Like his fellow Celestials, he entertained his own hobbies; particularly, he passed his long life immersed in research of various subjects from sigiltech to Logos synchronization. He placed his tablet in the drawer of the end table next to the chair he sat in, satisfied with what he had read. With a bit of oversight on his end, his team would perfect a new method of sigil sequencing that would surpass even the Eidos Corporation’s bleeding-edge products.

He gazed out at the Spire Wasteland with a smile on his face. Truly, it has been a good week. I had forgotten how fun it can be interacting with the mortals, perhaps my fellows have the right of it.

“Master Ciel, we are nearing the area affected by the Remnant Gate,” said a woman with a voice that sent shivers down Ciel’s spine.

“Thank you, Zamat,” he said. He turned to face the only female of the three specialists he’d employed to accompany him into the Remnant Gate. In the harsh light of the Spire Wastelands, her smooth orange skin looked to be lit by an inner fire which contrasted with the coarse black braids spilling down her shoulders and back. Her reptilian eyes followed his movements as he got to his feet and made his way over to her. “I think I’ll have a look.”

Zamat glanced at the sleeping figure in the bed pushed against the back wall and asked, “Should we not wake Morrison?”

Ciel waved her off. “No, let him sleep. He was fresh off a job and hadn’t slept in over a week when I made my request for him to join us.”

She nodded stepping to the side to allow him to pass then following behind. He descended to the first level of the bus and glanced out of the wide front window at the landscape ahead.

Directly in front of them, he saw the leading bus which contained the staging crew that would open the rift and maintain a secure escape point while Ciel and his three companions ventured into the Remnant Gate. Staging crews for S-rank Gates usually took time to muster and organize but due to his status as a Celestial and the many contributions he’d made to the advancement of raid technology, the Relic Hunter guild had gone above and beyond to satisfy his needs. It had only taken them three days to gather a serviceable force for staging. A few old debts called due and a bit of luck on Ciel’s part covered the rest.

Beyond the lead bus, the Spire Wasteland had transformed dramatically. Thousands of white and black spires jutted from the ground creating a beautiful yet eerie jungle of crystal. The spires ranged in height from shorter than their double-decker buses to several stories tall. Above the spires, a swirl of dark clouds shrouded miles of terrain in darkness.

“I can’t believe this was just barren wasteland a few days ago,” said the driver.

Ciel placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “This is your first time on a high-rank expedition, isn’t it?”

The man nodded, hiding his nervousness behind a smile. “Yeah… When I got to B-rank a few months ago and signed up as a transporter, I didn’t think I’d ever run transport for an S-rank raid.”

Ciel noted the fear in the man’s voice. He squeezed the driver’s shoulder giving him a reassuring smile. “Worry not, my good man. It’s only been a few days since the Rupture so the Gate is still in the early stages. We’re unlikely to run into anything more dangerous than some perilous terrain and a handful of creatures if any. Besides, we’ve got a living legend on our side. Isn’t that right, Vicigon?”

The legend in question who sat a few feet away opened his eyes and regarded Ciel over steepled fingers. His flint-gray eyes showed little expression or thought but Ciel knew beneath that flat stare lurked a cunning and dangerous mind.

“Your job will get done, Ciel,” Vicigon said. He leaned back in his chair and adjusted his jacket, a fusion of red cloth and living metal. It was an S-grade Relic, of that Ciel was certain, but he didn’t know what it did. Similar items covered the athletic humanoid’s body—high-end Relics, all of them. Their eyes met and the message was clear. Vicigon would finish the mission; nothing more, nothing less. He closed his eyes again.

“I’d expected nothing less from the guild’s top relic hunter,” Ciel said, his tone lighthearted despite Vicigon’s brusque reply. He patted the driver on the shoulder and walked over to sit next to Zamat who had taken a seat opposite Vicigon. “With you, Morrison, and Zamat here, we’ll be in and out of that Remnant Gate in no time at all.”

Zamat frowned turning her eyes on the mass of foreboding crystal spires. “Something cold awaits us. Something hungry.”

Vicigon grunted and his hand brushed against one of the daggers at his hip. For Ciel, Zamat’s words brought to mind Auriel’s warning.

A man in yellow surrounded by darkness… One of his favorite things about Auriel was her clarity. Unlike other seers, she delivered relatively straightforward prognoses. Ciel had considered the possible meaning since leaving Auriel’s sanctum. He’d arrived at the same conclusion each time. I am the man in yellow obviously. The question is whether the darkness surrounding me is literal or metaphorical. Knowing Auriel, it’s probably literal… No matter. Shadows and darkness are at most inconveniences.

He maintained his smile. Even if things became inconvenient or downright disastrous, he would adjust. Being immortal granted him a wonderful amount of optimism for the future, no matter what happened. Having such an elite team didn’t hurt either. They were the best of the best, specially recruited to guarantee the success of this mission.

Given the nature of the World Boss and its minions, the Remnant Gate likely contained a heavy volume of the undead. Zamat was, unquestionably, the best fire mage in all of Asylum with both the Elementalist and Wizard designations. Her magic would make quick work of undead creatures which were typically vulnerable to fire. Ciel had worked with her many times in the past, both in the field and in the lab.

Then, there was Vicigon, the Relic Hunter guild’s top-ranked hunter and one of only four individuals in Asylum to hold the title of Triple Star, someone with three S-rank designations. Rogue and Marksman accounted for two of the three though Ciel wasn’t certain about the third— some kind of hybrid designation if the rumors were to be believed. Any raiding crew would pay a fortune to enlist his membership long-term but fortunately for Ciel, the Triple Star preferred working as an independent agent. On the battlefield, the man became an avatar of death; no came close in terms of efficiency in eliminating priority targets. Thankfully, he owed Ciel a significant debt that had been called due to ensure his cooperation and discretion. Vicigon treasured his reputation above all else so he never broke his word once it was given.

Admittedly, Ciel had nothing but luck to thank for the last member of his crew. Not only was Morrison available but he had agreed to Ciel’s job and the terms therein. The man was an enigma in more ways than one. Few knew much about him aside from his status as a Double Star. Ciel, on the other hand, had privileged information on the nature of Morrison’s abilities. He would be vital in the raid to come.

The mission was simple: retrieve Jack and if he was dead, retrieve the World Core and his corpse in that order of priority. Even with their powerful team, running a true raid of the Gate wasn’t a viable course of action. They simply didn’t have the manpower to handle the full force of an S-rank Remnant Gate.

As their bus passed into the darkness beneath the clouds, he stared into the jungle of crystal spires with a faint bit of worry, not for himself or his companions but for his prize. It was the very same worry that spurred him to assemble a team so quickly as possible. Stay alive, Jack. You’re so much more useful to me alive than dead…

***

Jack’s lungs burned and his leg muscles screamed in protest. He’d been sprinting for what felt like several minutes. The Lightbearer’s Lantern illuminated the gradual curve of the tunnel ahead of him. The Dark One’s form teetered at the edge of the lantern’s light, just beyond the range of Magician’s Manipulation. “Damnit, why is it so fast? I can’t close the distance.”

“In the legends, Dark Ones were untiring, unfeeling, and relentless. It can probably keep running forever,” Kafkë said from inside him. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve been able to maintain this pace for so long.”

“The Ore Father’s Token increase’s my endurance,” Jack explained seeing no reason to hide that truth from Kafkë. “There’s no way I’d be able to run so long without it... I don’t think I can keep this up for much longer though.”

Apprehension twisted inside Jack as the Dark One veered down another branch in the tunnel system. This was the fifth one, each one leading him deeper into the bowels of the Eternal Light’s Bastion. Several times, he nearly abandoned the chase for fear of getting lost but he pressed on trusting his mental map to guide him should he need it. His only options were to return to the Radiant Gardens or find another portal. The tunnel system was massive so one probably existed somewhere in its depths. Moreover, he hadn’t forgotten about the S-rank Relic he’d detected earlier.

He reached the fork in the path and skidded to a halt when he heard a large creature moving about ahead. The Dark One’s silhouette disappeared into the darkness. “Shit, we’ve got trouble ahead.”

“What is it?” Kafkë asked.

“There’s something big further up the tunnel.” He concentrated on the sounds. “Four legs. Heavy, but not lumbering. There’s a careful rhythm to its movements. It’s also got claws; I can hear them tapping against the ground… Definitely some kind of beast. There’s a rumble to its breath, kind of like a low growl. It might be one of those winged lion creatures I spotted when Lilan captured me, but it sounds bigger.” A shiver ran down his spine as he considered an unfortunate possibility. “Kafkë, does that match the description of any of the Justiciars?”

“No, Justiciars are made from people, not animals. There’s a winged knight who you claim is the boss’s wife— I’m still having a hard time processing that, by the way. One’s a hulking brute that I’ve only seen a few times and the last one actually looks like a normal lightweaver but carries his lantern on a spiked chain.”

Jack released a pent-up breath. “Glad to hear we have a chance.”

“I bet. Though speaking of hearing, yours is ridiculous if you can make all that out from here. I can’t even hear whatever it is.”

The corner of his mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smirk. “Thanks, though I’m not sure if it means much coming from a floating skull.”

Kafkë scoffed. “I’ve got perfectly good hearing.”

“Maybe for a dead person,” Jack replied. Following his intuition, he activated his Relic detection and sure enough, he sensed an extremely powerful Relic in the same direction as the creature and the Dark One. It was the same caliber as Kafkë which meant he was dealing with an Artifact, not a normal Relic. “Kafkë do you know if Bohum has any powerful magical items or artifacts?”

“Not as far as I know although to be honest with you, this is the farthest anyone on the boss’s side has ever been in the Eternal Light’s Bastion. The only items of power he’s known to use are lanterns like the one you have. Why do you ask?”

“I’m sensing something powerful like that up ahead. I have a feeling it's not a coincidence our friend led us here.”

“How did you sense it?... You know what, never mind. The more important question is how powerful are we talking?”

“About on par with you in terms of the strength of its signature though I can’t tell what it does from this distance.”

A low whistle sounded through his mind. “Then it must be something important. Not to brag but other than the Twilight Key, I’m the most powerful thing the boss has.” Kafkë paused as though considering something. “Wait, what about the Ore Father’s Token? Are you telling me that a divine gift from the Earth Mother has a weaker signal in whatever sense you’re using than I do?”

“Pretty much. I’d explain the nuances of it to you but we don’t have the time for that,” he answered before checking his Mana. He had had a little over thirty left after expelling the Dark One from the Blue Heart; he’d gained twenty-two since then. Dividing the Mana gained by his regen rate told him roughly how much time had passed.

Wow, I just sprinted for over four minutes straight. Wait, I forgot the damn lantern’s penalty so that means… Almost five and a half minutes. Shit. Well, good to know I can haul ass if needed. He thought to himself, glancing down at the Ore Father’s Token. Setting aside that realization for when he wasn’t in the middle of enemy territory, he ran through his Mana options. So that’s five seconds of Magician’s Manipulation, six if I don’t rush. Then again, there’s Mantle… One glance at the Skill’s timer alleviated his fears of needing to refresh it. Nice, I still have ten minutes until I need to worry about that. Dammit, I wish I had a martial skill to use all the fucking Vigor I have.

“Hey, chief, I know you’ve been through a lot but if you stand around any longer, you might start collecting dust.” Kafkë’s words snapped him out of his thoughts. If you aren’t sure what to do, I recommend retreating. As much as I really want to know Bohum is up to, I also don’t want you to get yourself killed or captured again. You’re important to Terras’s survival and the boss’s plan.”

“No, we keep going.” Jack declared. He started down the tunnel at a light pace. He didn’t bother with stealth because the lantern gave up his position anyway. Unfortunately, he needed it to see in the pitch darkness of Bastion’s underbelly. Before Kafkë could protest he added, “Going back isn’t as safe as you think. I passed Illad, the hulking Justiciar, before you got here. He came from these tunnels so if we double back, we might run into him and then we’ll really be fucked. Besides, he might’ve been guarding whatever is up ahead.”

The Keeper of Souls wasn’t so easily deterred. It argued, “Sure, running into a Justiciar would be bad but being caught down here by Bohum would just as bad if not worse. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but I haven’t seen a single lightweaver since we got down here. There’s got to be a reason for that. If Bohum uses that light detection you talked about and sees you down here, you might have more than a single Justiciar to worry about.”

Jack took a deep breath steeling his resolve. “I know. I’ve suspected as much for a while now. The same sense that let me detect the Artifact ahead of us also lets me detect the lanterns carried by the lightweavers. I haven’t sensed any in these tunnels. There could be lightweavers down here without lanterns but I doubt it. Most likely, these tunnels are restricted for some reason and I’ll be suspiciously out of place if Bohum senses me down here.”

“Exactly, so let’s—"

“Kafkë listen,” he said cutting his companion off. “This isn’t just about Bohum. I’m like you. I woke up in Fracture with no memory of who I am. I’ve been hunted, beaten, and tormented by people like Ciel and those who serve them for years.” His heart constricted at the thought of everything he had lost. He remembered the alcohol, the drugs, the days spent withering away. “I’m done. Something has to change and since I saw that thing, my gut’s been telling me that going forward is the right call. Whatever the Dark Ones are, they’re connected in some way to my past. I have to find out how.”

The skull sighed after a long silence. “Fine, just be careful. There’s still a day and a half until the boss’s attack. I have to keep you alive until then but I didn’t expect such a complicated situation. When I came over here, I thought I’d be keeping you company in a dungeon cell and shielding your soul from Bohum.”

Jack would’ve chuckled if not for his somber mood. “You thought that infiltrating Bohum’s stronghold and preventing him from enslaving my soul would be simple?”

“Of course. When I’m inhabiting someone like I am now, I’m basically undetectable and powerful or not, Bohum is no match for me when it comes to the dominion of souls. Dark Ones though… trying to get that thing out of you earlier was like wrestling smoke.”

Jack arrived at a pronounced bend in the tunnel. The sounds of the beast ahead had quieted as he got closer. He could still hear it’s breathing but it had gone still. Tension drew his corded muscles taut. As quick as possible, he peeked around the corner, wary of being ambushed. Nothing attacked.

The tunnel continued for a short distance before ending in a ledge that overlooked a wide chamber. Faint white light spilled over a ledge from below stretching out until it faded at the mouth of the tunnel. When he withdrew his head, he listened carefully. “It’s just below the ledge. I think it’s waiting for us.”

“Let’s go greet it then. No point in hesitating now. Every second is one Bohum could discover you.”

Kafkë had a point; time wasn’t on his side. He drew his metal club stepping around the bend. He took a step forward then another. The feeling tugging at the edge of his mind strengthened but instead of assurance, he felt fear. There was something final about the path forward, something inevitable.

Drawing a shaky breath, Jack walked toward the light.